#but no mature-rated crap of course

[artist-issues]

I don’t have a lot of time to read fanfiction but I’d make time if there was a Cinderella 2015 sequel fic. About like, Ella having to learn to be a Queen who is kind and disarms everybody’s courtly politics with her simple honest goodness. Or maybe a neighboring kingdom asks for aid, and Ella and the Prince decide to face the risks to go and help them personally, and SURPRISE, Lady Tremaine is there and up to her old manipulative schemes only this time Ella and Kit can try and stand up to her through courtly maneuvers. 

It’s just that Cinderella 2015 was so sweet and simple and perfect that even though I don’t need a sequel I want to spend more time hearing about how to have courage and be kind. 

[sarahowritesostucky]

Manip GIF by @odetolove95

📖"I Prefer Girls Who're Not Afraid to Cry"

That’s what Chris does - he worries. He worries that someday someone will catch on to what they do, what they’ve been doing for years. That someday, someone will be in the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong intentions, and snap a picture of something that can’t be explained away as an interaction between friends and costars.

Rated: Mature

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Chris Evans (Sebastian x ofc)

Word Count: 4439

Tags: light dom/sub, dom Sebastian Stan, Sub Chris Evans, slight internalized homophobia, secret relationship, discussions of threesomes and polyamory, flirting, touching through clothes, teasing

Summary: Sebastian and Chris reconnect to discuss the possibility of sharing a woman and living their life in the open.

A.N.: this isn't shading Alba at all. It was written when Chris had just barely started to date her.

📖"I Prefer Girls Who're Not Afraid to Cry"

Part one highly recommended to be read first!

Sebastian’s in the middle of taking a dump when he hears his phone out in the kitchen. “Ah, crap.”

(Literally.)

But then the familiar ringtone registers, and he calms down, knowing that he’s not missing an important business call from his agent or some director. He craps in peace.

He brews himself another coffee and takes it into the livingroom, sinking down on his couch with a happy sigh. He checks his phone. There’s a text from Bo already. He’d stuck her in a town car not thirty minutes ago, with a kiss and a murmured command of, “Let me know when you’re home safe.” 

Given her proclivity for being a good girl, Sebastian is unsurprised to find her sweet and adorably obedient: “Safe and sound. Last night was amazing 😘😊,” waiting in their text thread.

"Good girl," he murmurs. He's still smiling over her, as he pulls up the last call received and taps the screen to call him back.

He picks up on the second ring. “Hey.” He sounds breathless over the line, must be working out. There’s some new project he’s signed on for, some historical drama with shirtless scenes.

“Hey,” Sebastian says. “You busy? I can call back.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Hang on.” There’s movement on the other end of the line, and a few seconds later it sounds like his face is pressed more firmly to the receiver. He’s settled somewhere, and his breath isn’t labored anymore.

“Are you still in the city?”

“Yeah. They’ve got three still in the running for the female lead, want me to do chemistry reads to narrow it down. Casting needs me for another few days." There's a pause. "... I thought I might stay a bit longer, though. See the sights.”

Sebastian hums, pleased. “You should.” In the distant background, he thinks he can hear weight plates being moved around. “Are you ... are you actually at a gym?”

His sigh crackles over the line, displeased. “The fifty-third street Equinox.”

“Wow.” Sebastian snickers. “And look: you’ve survived!”

“Don’t jinx it. Nobody’s bothered me. Yet.”

Sebastian still laughs about it. He doesn’t mind public gyms himself, but then again, he’s much more of a showoff (and not nearly as famous). “Do you want to go to lunch?” he asks, eyes slipping closed, digging his skull back into the couch cushion. “I’ve got something I want to talk to you about.”

“Sorry, can’t. I’ve got meetings all afternoon.”

“Pfff. 'Course.” There goes Sebastian's excuse for skipping his own workout. He pokes at his abs. “I need to go for a run.”

Over the line, there’s the sound of water being gulped, and then a hopeful, “Dinner though?”

“Sure. Where?”

“Well, I was thinking that dark place. Georgie’s?”

Sebastian bites his lip, tickled at what he knows that means. Georgia’s is an obscenely expensive and very private Italian joint. It’s got dark corners, discreet staff, and cozy leather booths. … And it’s less than two blocks from Sebastian’s building. Still, he pretends to complain, teasing, “You don’t ask for much, do ya, Evans?”

Chris chuckles lowly, and the sound goes straight to Sebastian’s cock. “What, you think I’m easy, Stan?”

“I know you are.”

“Gotta make you work for it. I want you to wine and dine me.”

That’s not all you want me to do, Sebastian thinks. “I think I can manage that. Dessert after?"

"Always."

That low voice, purred into the receiver, is enough to have Sebastian's cock pulsing in interest. He sinks lower on the couch, right hand roaming over his leg, up to the crease of his inner thigh. “Eight o’clock?” he asks, cupping himself. Maybe he’ll jerk off before he runs.

“You damn Europeans and your middle of the night dinner times.”

“Shut up and come get cultured,” he says, throwing on an accent thicker than any he’s naturally spoken with in decades. It makes Chris giggle, which lights Sebastian up. “Seven,” he concedes, and Chris agrees. Neither one of them mentions the fact that they're going to wind up back at Sebastian’s place, after; that 'dessert' is just a euphemism for what they get up to together once they're alone. Sebastian all but confirms it when he says, “You can stay?”

“Yeah. The night.”

“The week,” he corrects.

Chris stays silent, and Sebastian can practically hear him worrying. “Well … I’ve got all my luggage, though.”

“So? Bring it.”

“Production’s put me up at the Conrad …”

Sebastian rolls his eyes. “You gonna turn me down for the friggin' Conrad? Naw. Check out of your hotel, bring your luggage here. I don’t get to see you enough. I miss you.”

“Seb,” Chris says, sounding tempted, but wary. “What if somebody—”

“You haven’t been doing press, so nobody knows you’re in town. Come on. Have you even seen cameras?”

“... No,” he admits, still sounding worried. But that’s what Chris does: he worries. He worries that someday someone will catch on to what they do, what they’ve been doing, off and on, for years. That someday, someone will be in the wrong place at the wrong time, with the wrong intentions, and snap a picture of something that can’t be explained away as an interaction between friends and costars. Last year, Chris' agent had sat him down and said something to him about it.

But Sebastian just calmly commands him again, “Come stay with me. It’ll be fine.”

“... Okay.”

His heart melts at the give in Chris’ voice, the trust. He’s a bit like Bohdana, in that regard. Sometimes Chris just needs to let it all go and let somebody else be in charge for a little while. And Sebastian knows how hard it is for him to do that, knows what it means, that Chris lets him be the one he surrenders to. “Hey,” he says fondly. “Be brave, little toaster. I’ll see you tonight.”

Chris snorts, Sebastian hums, and they end the call that way. Sebastian closes his eyes and sips the rest of his coffee with his hand still on his dick, feeling peaceful, considering jacking off. It’s probably nearing noon by now. He should go get his workout over with, but he isn’t in the mood to rush, too wrapped up in his thoughts about Chris. And Bo.

He’d bid her farewell slowly and lazily. She’d been so sweet in his bed that morning, all mussed hair and shy smiles and soft curves. Sebastian had thoroughly enjoyed the gentle, intimate process of kissing her awake and cuddling her between the sheets, speaking in decibels only used by lovers, reassuring her that she was perfect and that what they’d done was good, and right, that he wasn’t going to discard her now that he'd had her—all things that he'd known she needed to hear.

It’s been a long time since Sebastian’s been with a woman so beautifully needy. Bo’s no virgin. He can see that she clearly knows what she likes. But there’s a virginal quality to her that tells Sebastian she’s obviously never been treated right by a man, and she’s never been handled by one at all. That doesn’t make him mad or indignant on her behalf. Rather, it excites him.

Excites him, because that means he gets to be her first in more ways than one. He’s thinking about the sight of her laid out on his bed and whimpering so sweetly, as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajama pants. He plays with his dick lightly, getting harder, remembering his time with Bohdana last night and imagining how it would’ve been if Chris had been there with them.

Would he just want to watch, that first time? Sebastian thinks maybe he would. Chris is hesitant sometimes. He’s careful, mindful of other people’s judgements and expectations, mindful of himself. If Bo wasn’t overtly, aggressively sexual with him right out of the gate (which she likely wouldn’t be), then Sebastian knows Chris would move to the side, sit in a chair and watch, eventually touching himself while Sebastian took Bo apart on the bed.

He jerks off to the fantasy, picturing something very close to what really happened last night. Only in this version, some of his attention would be on Chris, too; glancing over at him while his hand is between Bo’s legs, smirking and tossing her panties his way, looking straight at him as he fingers her to climax. Maybe he'd decide to eat her out and make her come that way, too. He knows he'd go over to Chris, then; kiss him with his face still messy, give him a taste of her. Oh, and he can just imagine the look Chris would get on his face, if Seb could make her squirt in front of him. Fuck, he thinks, he could even drag Chris over and make him watch up close. He could teach him.

He comes with a low grunt, most of the mess contained inside his pajama pants. He pulls them off and wipes himself with a sated sigh, then goes to chuck them in the hamper. He starts the shower water running and shoots off a quick text to Don to see if he’s free for a run. Sebastian always pushes a little harder than he does when jogging alone. He hops in the shower, already in an excellent mood.

This thing with Chris, this “thing” that they don’t put a name to, has been going on for a long time. Sometimes Sebastian forgets just how long. (How many years ago were they shooting Winter Soldier? Ten? Jesus, they’re getting old.)

Ten years since that first kiss: middle of August in a trailer in Atlanta, boiling temperatures, boiling tensions, and Chris shoving him away with a “What the fuck man? I’m not gay!” 

Eight years since that second kiss: another trailer, a better kiss, this time with Sebastian so bulked up that he could easily wrestle Chris’ anger away.

Seven years since that first night: Salt Lake Comic Con, Chris busting into his hotel room, drunk and belligerent and falling to his knees to suck him off.

Yeah, Sebastian thinks, it’d turned into a regular thing after Salt Lake. So, seven. Seven years of fitting in moments together. Between cities, movies, relationships, the demands of friends and fans and family. Using their phones when the months upon months of separation pile up—texting the safe stuff and snapchatting the not so safe stuff. Missing each other but never admitting it, and certainly never saying I Love You. They live two separate lives, lives that don’t have space for them to make their “thing” any more than it is. Certainly not a relationship.

Sexuality’s a spectrum, and he and Chris each have their place somewhere on it. Sebastian knows they both fall way closer to the straight end of that spectrum than most men who’re sleeping with other men do, but not far enough to not warrant caution. Because being gay isn’t conducive to what they do for a living.

Oh, Hollywood is very accepting of those things socially, but the fastest way to kill a career as a leading man in film is to announce that you’re into dick. Roles dry up fast once you’re openly gay. It’s not homophobia, it’s marketing. No director is going to cast a guy for a blockbuster role if the audience can’t buy him as straight. Action, romance, and even in most drama films; sex is what’s being sold. Straight sex, to straight people, and a leading man is the main product. Women need to be able to picture themselves with him, men need to be able to picture themselves as him. That’s the business.

It’s something both Sebastian and Chris have had to come to grips with. Girlfriends but not wives are always encouraged. Hell, Chris’ agent even sets him up on the occasional date. Emily is a little more hands off with Sebastian, thank goodness. But she's made comments in the past about all the gay roles he’s taken on in his work— “One is fine, two starts to look suspicious, three’s a pattern," has been sure to let him know that he’d better be visibly pursuing women in the meanwhile. So he’s gotten into the habit of dating models. It’s helped to increase his sex appeal and cement him as a desirable lead for films, or so says Emily. Sebastian gets it, but it’s still annoying to hear his manager talk it up with such importance. He likes to think he gets roles because he’s a good actor. Imagine that.

He can’t even remember how many times Chris used to call him, back in the early days, upset and saying that they needed to stop doing what they were doing. An … interpretable picture had come out that showed the two of them embracing at a party. Now they’re careful. They’ve crafted a narrative and fed the media enough to ensure that they’re depicted as best friends, born from over a decade spent making movies together. Magazines print it, YouTube has compilation videos of it. No other pictures have ever come out.

Sebastian stands outside the restaurant and waits. He spots Chris coming down the sidewalk and smiles widely. They haven’t seen each other in months. Chris’ beard is gone.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

He can’t pull him in and kiss him like he wants to. He keeps his hands shoved in his pockets as they greet each other warmly. “Should we go in?” Chris asks, eyes roving up and down Sebastian, taking him in. “You look good.”

“Look who’s talking, Mr. Sexiest Man Alive,” Sebastian says, because he knows it’ll make him blush. It does.

Chris’ cheeks get gloriously pink and he shoves Sebastian’s shoulder as they go through the restaurant’s doors, laughing and telling him to shut the fuck up. The hostess gets a little wide-eyed when she realizes who’s standing in front of her. Sebastian’s not sure she knows who he is, but she definitely recognizes Mr. 2022. She can’t peel her eyes from Chris, and she gets real smiley, real fast, leading them back to the darkest, most tucked away booth in the house when Chris winks at her and requests 'someplace private'. “Your server will be right with you,” she gushes, seeming almost hesitant to go back to her hostessing duties. It’s cute, and it gives Sebastian more fodder for teasing once she finally does retreat.

“Gonna miss the beard though,” he muses, looking Chris over. He looks younger without it, always does. They settle in and ask the server for their usual; a bottle of wine and every appetizer on the menu. Sebastian was on chicken breast protocol not too long ago, so it’s a relief to be ordering calamari and bread and snails soaked in butter. He talks about the muscle he’s been able to put back on since his last role, how he thinks the weight loss aged him and he’s considering Botox. Chris talks about the table reads he’s in town for and the film he’s been forcing himself into public gyms for. He votes No for Botox.

“Seventeen-seventies,” Sebastian muses, once their food has come and he’s fishing out an escargot from its shell. “So like, breeches and wigs? Big puffy shirts?” He smirks across the table. “I can just picture it.”

Chris shakes his head at him, but he’s smiling. He likes being teased by Sebastian, and Sebastian knows this. “I’m getting nervous about it,” he confides. “I have to do an accent, which you know is not my forte. Then there’s the sex scenes.”

Sebastian can sympathize. He’s also shit at accents (other than those from Soviet bloc countries), and he’s done plenty of nudity. Full frontal, even. There’s really no way to make it not awful. And sex scenes are even worse: A film crew staring at your asscheeks and a bandaid taped over your junk while you pretend to give it to some chick. Sebastian would rather scoot around Athens naked a dozen times before having to do imitation thrusts. “There’ll be an intimacy coordinator,” he tries to console. “Talk to them.”

“Eh, they’re for the women.”

“They’re for everybody,” Sebastian corrects. “I’ve had my dick out enough to know.”

“Yeah you have.”

He points his teeny escargot fork across the table, stern. “They’re not just for the women.”

Chris reaches for his wine. “Speaking of women,” he segues. Their table is very secluded and the surrounding area dark, so much so that personal conversation feels safe, tucked away as they are in their little corner. “I ah, I broke it off with Alba.”

Sebastian’s eyebrows raise. “Oh?” He’d forgotten her name, but knows who Chris is talking about. “Why?” he asks, trying not to let his enthusiasm show. “I thought you liked her.”

Chris shrugs, looking down about it. “I did. I do. She’s sweet, but she’s borderline Gen Z, you know? She made some comment about Titanic being a “vintage” movie. It was too much.”

Sebastian nods. He gets it. And even though he’s happy to hear he has Chris all to himself again, he’s also sorry for him, because he knows how much the other man wants love, wants a family. They’ve never talked about their futures with other people. It’s just been an unspoken assumption on both their parts that eventually they’ll end up married with kids, no longer able to accommodate their “thing.”

But that’s part of this new idea that’s been percolating in the back of Sebastian’s brain. It’s not concrete, just a possibility, but being with Bo has put the idea into his head that maybe he could have his cake and eat it too, and maybe so could Chris. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” he says, forcing himself to be bold. He meets Chris’ eyes. “Women, that is.”

“Oh yeah, how’d it go with that ah, that model you were seeing?” he asks, forced levity in his tone.

It makes Sebastian want to reach over and take his hand. Instead, he nudges their feet together under the table. “Hey.” He waits for Chris to meet his eyes again. “Bohdana,” he reminds gently. He hasn’t given Chris many details, but they have a policy of always telling each other about who they’re sleeping with. “She’s good. I really like her. She stayed over last night.”

Chris smiles. He’s trying. “That’s great, man.” He looks down again, sips his wine.

“Chris, look at me.”

He keeps his gaze on the table, focuses on choosing another few pieces from their various appetizers. “So, it’s getting serious?”

“Hey,” Sebastian says quietly, stern. “I told you to look at me.” Chris’ eyes snap up. Sebastian shakes his head. “It’s not serious. Not yet.”

“Oh?”

“Yet.” Beneath the table he slides his foot up, rubbing his ankle against Chris’. “She’s sweet,” he murmurs, holding his gaze. “Funny, gorgeous. Just wants a man to take care of her, though she tries not to let it show. And the way she responds to me is …” he trails off, letting the lack of words and his expression do the talking. He can see that Chris gets it. “And I think she wants kids. She’s said a few things in general conversation.”

Chris’ lips tick up. “Sounds like the whole package,” he says, thinking he’s hiding it well. But he’s as see-through as cellophane to Sebastian.

“Not quite. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He waits, takes a sip or two of his wine before he delves into the idea that’s been taking shape in his mind. He tells him delicately, “I think you should meet her.”

Chris immediately makes a face. “Why?”

“Hear me out.” He knows this has the potential to be a hard sell. “I think you’ll like her. She’s very pretty, you know. Nice skin, brown hair and dark eyes, cute face, petite. Just like you like ‘em.”

Chris is chewing something in his mouth. He chews it round and round, staring, thinking. He swallows and guesses, “... You want a threesome?”

“No. More than that.” Beneath the table, Sebastian slips his loafer off. “I want you to meet her. I think you’ll really like her.”

A shiver visibly runs through Chris’ body when Sebastian’s foot has made it all the way up his thigh, to the apex of his legs. “I don’t know what secret code you think you’re speaking in here, Seb,”

“I want us to share her.”

“Jesus—That’s what I just said."

“Need me to help you with that attitude?” Sebastian purrs. Chris’s eyes widen minutely at the threat, then go heavy-lidded. Sebastian smiles. “Hm?”

“I don’t think, it’d be a good idea,” he says, every word clipped and measured, controlling himself. “I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off. And the way we look at each other? She’d know.”

“That’s the idea,” Sebastian counters, sly. “Chris: we both like women, we both want that life—a family, home, kids. And we want each other. We’ve been separating ourselves into these different pieces, but maybe we don’t have to. Why not do it together? All of it?” Understanding starts to dawn on Chris’ face, and Sebastian nods. “Yes. You and me, and her.”

Chris' lips work a few times, speechless. “You want—”

“I want us to share her. Sexually, romantically, domestically. A life. Together.”

It takes a long few moments. First Chris just blinks at him, and then he scoffs out a mean little laugh, masking his nerves. Sebastian waits. Chris lifts his wine glass and gulps half of it down. He sets it down a little too roughly on the table. “You’ve been on what, two dates with this girl? Have you floated this little plan by her?”

“Six dates. And no I haven’t, but I will. And I think she’ll say yes.”

He scoffs and drinks more wine. He’s acting angry, but Sebastian can see him thinking it over, afraid to get his hopes up. “What about you and me?” he says. “People would know that we’re together. It’s still the same problem.”

Sebastian holds up a finger. “Ah, not quite.”

“How do you figure?”

“First of all, we wouldn’t have to come out about it right away. One of us could go public with her as his girlfriend, and since you and I are best hetero buds, it still wouldn’t be anything unusual for the three of us to be seen together.” Underneath the table, he lifts his leg, using his socked foot to massage Chris’ thigh. “Nothing scandalous. Then, one day—maybe not for years and years, who knows?—but one day, we come out as a throuple.”

Chris’ eyebrows go sky high. “A ‘throuple’?” he repeats.

“That’s what the kids are calling it these days. Polyamory, it’s all the rage.”

The eyebrows come down, replaced by a scowl. “Oh Seb, come on. Be serious,” he groans. The sound cuts off, however, when Sebastian’s foot presses up warningly against his balls.

“I am being serious,” he coos, voice like velvet. “What about that plan doesn’t sound perfect to you?”

Chris licks his lips. “Well she’d have to agree to it.”

“She will.”

“You don't know that. And I haven’t even met her.”

“Actually, you have.” Sebastian grins, excited to reveal this last bit. “She told me about it: how you two ran into each other at the gym.” When he sees that Chris is still confused, he elaborates, “She stumbled into you while you were lifting? You sat her down and force fed her juice and crackers?”

Chris’ lips part as he puts two and two together. “It was a granola bar,” he says weakly, and Sebastian’s heart flares with fondness for him.

“I talked about you with her. Briefly. Told her how you were my best friend, how we're very close." Chris snorts. "And she told me about how she thought you were cute, flirted with you, even gave you her number. I think she felt guilty for the flirting. It was like she was confessing it to me: her lust for another man.” With lighter pressure, he slowly rubs his foot against the crotch of Chris’ pants. His eyes bore into him while he does it, smirking, holding him with his gaze. “You’re getting hard,” he whispers.

“Y-yeah.” Chris looks like he’s really considering Sebastian’s proposal now, the anxiety in his face slowly being replaced by interest, disbelief … and maybe hope. “This is crazy,” he breathes. “Seb ...”

“I know,” Sebastian soothes. “I know it is. But we could do it—have each other, and our woman, and a family. Everything. A certain amount of privacy can be bought, and you have the money for it. Nobody would know until we want them to know. And even then, there’d be no reason for people not to assume it’s a M/F/M arrangement, with that F firmly in between the M’s. He tilts his head and watches as Chris absorbs everything he's saying. Gently, he massages his foot over his dick. Chris shivers. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“... You really think we can pull that off?”

“We’ve crafted a narrative before,” he offers. It’s not like it’s hard. All they’d have to do is act the part when they’re in public, call the paps on themselves when it’s convenient—both things they’ve already been doing for years. “So what do you say? You want to give it a try, come over and meet her one night? Feel her out?”

Chris has a brightness in his eyes as he thinks it through, and soon a smile sparks—hesitant at first, but growing. Under the table, his hand curls over the top of Sebastian’s foot and gives a squeeze, pressing it firmer against his erection. Sebastian moans quietly. Then, to his utter joy, Chris nods and says, “Let’s do it.”

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[4getfulimaginator2022]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

I haven't been tagged, but I saw @fandomsbyladymelodrama do one of these a few months back - so of course, I wanted to give it a try. 🙃 Also, I haven't done any personal posts on here in forever. Time for a change!

How many works do you have on AO3? I have 18 works so far. And when it comes to ships, it looks like I have a "type." 😉

What's your total AO3 word count? Oh boy. 660K+ right now and growing all the time because when stories speak, I write.

What fandoms do you write for? Mainly Once Upon a Time (starting in 2013), followed by Game of Thrones (2024, baby!) and then that 1 Greek myth collection thingy. I was a die-hard Once fan back in the day and watched episodes religiously, so all the canon lore was seared into my brain until season 6 (when I dropped the show because the writing was so off the rails). Surprise, surprise - I haven't watched GoT in its entirety. Everything I know is through my own research, watching videos, reading, reading, reading, and the contributions of the wonderful Jorleesi fandom.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? All Captain Swan fics, in order from the most to the least: 1) Heart Bound 2) Only the Beginning 3) A Cobbler's Life For Me 4) Be My Angel, Be My Demon 5) Nevermore

Do you respond to comments? I try! I used to be less strict about replying to comments, but with my resurgence in fanfic after years of absence, I have replied to each and every one. Currently, I am behind on replies, but I will get around to it again. Soon.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Oof. I don't do angsty endings because I will die on the hill that is Jane Austen: “My characters shall have, after a little trouble, all that they desire.” Probably my angstiest ending is in Trader of Hearts, which is a really dark fic. I do have a one-shot that is semi-angsty, though: Thinking of You.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? *deer in headlights look* I make it my business to give my beloved characters the happiest endings I can. Seriously. I don't know how to rank endings against each other, since the characters always end up together. I currently think my happiest ending is for The Old Curiosity Shop, my Jorleesi fic.

Do you get hate on fics? I have, but these were readers telling me how I should write my stories "the right way." I also have gotten spam comments. Overall, people are pretty nice.

Do you write smut? Hoo-hah! 😏 Let's count: I have 3 fics rated Mature and 5 fics rated Explicit. That's half of my fic repertoire. And when I do Explicit, it's ❤️‍🔥. Enough said.

Do you write crossovers? No. Not happening, cannot do, end of discussion.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Well... There was a scandal back on FF.net in 2014 or 2015? Websites were copying all fanfics to scammy websites or selling fanfics as ebooks. Not cool. I used to have all my content on FF.net, but now only my in-progress fics are there. All my fics are up on AO3.

Have you ever had a fic translated? No, not that I know of.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Hey, if someone is offering... But again, no. No one ever wanted to co-write with me. 🥺 But maybe it's because I'm sooooooooo bossy!

What's your all-time favorite ship? Oh crap. All-time favorite?! WHAT. I have to cheat here and say there's a tie: Captain Swan and Jorleesi. Emma Swan and Killian Jones had a long journey to love and happiness, both in terms of their individual character growth and their relationship as a couple. The more I learned about them, the harder I fell in love with them. It helped that the CS fandom was HUGE as the ship became canon, and Tumblr was so active then that #captainswan was all over the place. We were one of the largest canon ships for that show. Now, as for Jorleesi... Jorah Mormont's loyalty and devotion earned my attention and respect from the first, and then when I found out about his love for Daenerys and her repressed love affection for him, I was a goner. My 2 OTPs: both women are BAMFs who are survivors and warriors, while their guys value love above all and are willing to die to protect them (*sobbing for Jorah because noooooooo* 😭)

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Heart Bound. This fic... I love this fic. This is my Jane Eyre/Jane Austen fix. It's my 2nd period piece and I adore some of my prose in this one. It. Needs. 4. Chapters. To. Be. Complete. Can I do it? Yes. Do I want to do it? *cries* Of course I do but it's hard...

What are your writing strengths? Hmm. Some would say it's my prose, while others would say that I know how to channel emotion into my writing. I like to incorporate literature and historical references into my fics (historical AUs or not), so I think I've done well with that. I've also been told that my characterizations are fantastic and unique. You do notice that I'm not claiming credit for any of these observations, right? Usually, I believe my writing is awful and I could have done so much better. I have a hard time acknowledging my strengths. You could hand me an Olympic gold medal for Writing and I would still insist that it's all lies. My self-belief and confidence have not improved over the years.

What are your writing weaknesses? Dialogue. It's always dialogue. I want it to be realistic but my vocab gets in the way and it starts sounding like prose. Not good. But I am getting better! No way to go but up.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Maybe I'd do it, but it would have to be necessary for me to put in the effort. I don't purposely bamboozle my readers. 🤣

First fandom you wrote for? Once Upon a Time (of course *rolls eyes*). One Against the Wind is my ultimate period fic - pirates, the Caribbean, my tribute to PotC and pirate novels I've read. I created character backstory when there was no canon backstory. It's also my longest fic at 147K words. So proud of it and it still holds a special place in my heart. 😍

Favorite fic you've written? Ugh, no no no! I always, always say I cannot have one favorite because that is BORING. But okay, I will say that at the moment, it's The Old Curiosity Shop. I just did a full read of the entire fic and my heart absolutely melted. Adorable, heartbreaking, angsty, and so romantic. Jorleesi, I love you and I will die for you. You own my heart a thousand times over. ❤️

Fineeeee, I'll tag 5 people (no worries if you don't want to do this - completely voluntary fun and games here 💕): @ser-jorah-the-andal, @rileypotter17, @houseofthebear, @clarasimone, @thank-god-and-you

[sirowsky]

--Meeting Expectations--

Alright, we're off! Today's the big day and this is the first of the six stories that I'll be posting. I won't beg and plead for people to reblog or comment, but I really would appreciate it, as this is my attempt to celebrate myself, on this one crappy day of the year.

This is the one story that's based on a prompt, by the fabulous @bilibiche You asked for Whiskey, and that's what you got!

Rating: Mature Warnings: Not much, but perhaps a little self-doubt and self-image issues? Jack "Whiskey" Daniels x female reader, established relationship. Word Count: 580 Author’s Masterlist

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   “Oh, come on now, doll. You look positively scrumptious,” Jack drawls as his eyes shamelessly roam over your features.

   He looks hungry enough to mean it, but you’re still unsure about the dress. It’s a damned celebrity wedding, there’s gonna be paparazzi in every bush, and professional photographers inside both the church and the venue.    Looking good to the man who still thinks you’re gorgeous even when you’re wearing worn old sweats and you’re covered in dirt from tending to the horses and haven’t brushed your hair in a week, isn’t filling you with confidence at all.

   “I don’t wanna look edible, I wanna look respectable and elegant,” you shoot back, but that just prompts him to rise to his feet, approaching you with pure honey diluting the already smooth chocolate of his eyes.

   “Sweetheart, if looking only the way that the rest of the world expects you to look is what matters to you, then by all means, go change.    But I, for one, would much rather see you look like you, and be comfortable all night, than torture yourself in clothes that’ll make you feel disconnected and shallow.”

   Crap. He always knows exactly what to say to break down your defences.    And of course, he’s right as well. You are thinking only of not embarrassing yourself in front of the world press and hundreds of influential rich people, not about what you actually want or feel good about.

   The dress that you’re wearing is quite tough. Deep green with sections of creamy white and green leather, discreet contrast stitching in bright yellow and small lace detailing here and there, also in green.    When you’d tried it on at the store, it had felt so right on you, perfect for your figure and your personality, and when you’d taken it out earlier that morning while you were trying to decide what to wear, it had instantly spoken to you.

   You have other dresses, simpler and with cleaner lines, almost business-like in their restraint, as well as real red-carpet pieces that would certainly not be sneered at even by the most high-browed snob.    But those aren’t appropriate for a wedding, and they’re also just… not you.    You sigh heavily and step over to the far side of the closet where your shoes are stacked.

   “Don’t you dare pick heels, now, sugar,” he warns, knowing how much you hate wearing high heels, since you spend your days in boots or sneakers while working outside.

   You pick a pair of flat white ballerina style shoes, slip them on and then stare poignantly at your husband for a verdict, to which he simply smiles and nods his agreement from where he’s standing at the foot-end of the king-sized bed.

   “Perfect. We’re gonna be the hottest couple at the wedding,” he purrs, and you can’t help but smile.

   “Well, you’re certainly hot enough,” you hum, eyeing him up and down appreciatively, to which he proudly puffs up his chest.

   “Only next to you, darlin’. Only ever next to you.”

   “Oh, aren’t you full of praise today,” you say while playfully bumping your hip against his as you pass him on your way to the bedroom door.

   It makes him huff a laugh and before you know it, he’s caught up to you and has his hands on your waist, whispering in your ear, now with honey in his voice too.

   “What else is there to say? I just love you that much.”

THE END

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Thank you for reading and helping me celebrate! I wish you a wonderful day <3

Tagging a few people who I think might wanna read these stories: @startrekkingaroundasgard @deadhumourist @tintinn16 @suttonspuds @tanzthompson @shsoba05 @f0rever15elf @justnat15 @lowlights @dornish-queen @radiowallet @spishsstuff @harriedandharassed @i-love-movies @tiffanypooh @chaoticfestninja @insomniamamma

[saiilorstars]

Ch. 57: Just a Thought

Previous chapters // Montserrat’s masterlist

Fandom: SVU // Pairing: Rafael Barba x OC

Warnings: Due to the nature of the series’ plots, I do have to rate this as ‘mature’ for constant mentions of rape.

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @arrthurpendragon​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @anotherunreadblog​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @averyhotchner​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @abzidabzy​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @hellofutur​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @foxesandmagic​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xovalliegirlxo @sam-i–am @kmc1989​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

[If you’d like to be added to this specific OC’s stories/edits, send me a message

Montserrat could lie and say she had no idea how they ended up forgetting about their couch date with a movie and take-out dinner, but she had no desire to do so. Right now, her desires and senses were inflamed with Rafael's kisses. He hovered over her, lips working hard against hers until he decided to grace her with a trail of kisses down and around her neck.

"We should at least" — Montserrat giggled — "turn the television off. Save yourself a little something on the cable bill."

Rafael stopped altogether and looked deep into her eyes. "If that's what you're thinking of right now, then I have seriously failed."

Montserrat slid her hands over his face, fingers gently stroking his cheeks. "You never fail me," she said. "I'm in heaven right now."

"Really?" Rafael couldn't help the doubt that filled his tone. He couldn't help feeling slightly unconvinced each time they were together like this that perhaps he would end up pushing Montserrat too far and make her close off again. Yes, she was always reciprocating his advances. He kissed her, she kissed him back. He hugged her, she hugged him. And yes, when he touched her, she touched him. But when those advances became stronger—even if they were considered as simple as fooling around on the couch—Rafael always had doubt in the back of his mind. That doubt scared him. He didn't ever want to do anything that would push her over the edge; anything that would make him lose her. He was in too deep to lose her.

"Course I am," Montserrat said, lifting her head to kiss him. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Rafael didn't want to say it so...clearly. Why sour her mood?

"If you're overthinking things, then I'm failing here," Montserrat said, letting go of Rafael's face. "How to fix things, hmm…"

Rafael rolled his eyes at her. She really couldn't help being so sarcastic, could she? He silenced her hums with another kiss. He heard her giggles every now and then but they would lose their strength as well. He took that as a win. She'd forget about giggling and everything else when he kissed her.

She leaned into his touch, wherever his hands and lips were. When his fingers danced over her chest, she pressed her hand over them. She dragged his hand until the top button of her shirt got in the way. Whether it had been for the rush of feelings or maybe for something of the past, Rafael felt when Montserrat flinched. He stopped altogether, pulling himself off her even when he heard her soft 'no'.

"I'm sorry," she apologized fast and sat upright.

"It's fine," he assured her but she wasn't convinced. She helped initiate things and she was the one who stopped it. "Montserrat."

She sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm not being fair."

Rafael couldn't help the soft laugh that came out of him. "Fair? For what?" Montserrat couldn't put her words together but even then, he understood her perfectly. He straightened himself up then tugged Montserrat up to him until she was sitting on his lap. "I'm feeling pretty good right now."

Montserrat wanted to believe him. She knew that he wouldn't lie about these things with her. It was just frustrating that she kept pulling this crap on him. "I was too," she said, promising him. "I-I don't know what that was…"

"Involuntary reaction," Rafael helped her out. "It's perfectly normal for…" Even if he meant to avoid using the word for Montserrat's sake, she went ahead and said it.

"Victims," she whispered. "I'm over that term, you know. I feel like I'm too far gone to use that."

"Montserrat…"

"It's been almost 2 years!"

"So what? That doesn't mean you have to automatically stop having lingering feelings about it. Montserrat, c'mon, you're allowed to feel whatever it is that you feel." Rafael ran his fingers through one of Montserrat's curls. They were a little more out of place because of his constant interventions but in his mind, it made her look even more radiant. She just had that pesky pout on her face.

"I just feel like I'm not being fair to you," she insisted. "I love the way we were but I always have to go and do something to ruin it."

"You're fine," Rafael reiterated sternly. He didn't want to keep entertaining this conversation when all Montserrat felt was senseless guilt.

Montserrat thought he was too good to her. On some level, he had to be at least a little frustrated with things...but of course he would never admit to it. He always made it about her and her health. "You're so good to me," she sighed. "And honestly I don't deserve it all the time."

Rafael thought that was nonsense. It was just her guilt talking. "I just do what makes you happy, dear. I always want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy."

"And you deserve to be happy too," Montserrat said, "You've been with me for half a year now—you've known me for a whole year. You've handled my stuff way before we got together and you never once got angry with me when I lashed out."

"I do recall being slightly snappy," Rafael said, holding up his thumb and index finger for her to see how "slightly" he was talking about.

Montserrat rolled her eyes and pushed his hand down. "Snaps is all I got when I yelled at you. And you always forgave me."

"Hey, I'll always forgive you," Rafael said on instinct, smiling brightly. In his mind, there wasn't anything Montserrat could possibly do to make him think twice about his statement.

There were a couple things Montserrat could think of that would put his faith in her into question. "Would you forgive me for anything?" she asked him.

Rafael didn't even think for a second before he nodded. "Anything."

"No you wouldn't," Montserrat said with a shake of her head and a slight smile.

"I would!"

"No, because there are just some things that are unforgivable."

"Yeah, but I doubt that you would be capable of doing something considered 'unforgivable'."

"I lie," Montserrat offered up that reason a bit too fast.

Rafael stared at her for a better explanation, at the very least a 'kidding' would've deflated the terse air that'd fallen over them. But she never said anything else. Suddenly, Rafael was transported back to the very moment he deduced that Montserrat had gone through something similar to the victims he often worked with. Just like that evening where Montserrat didn't explicitly say it, she implied that something happened to her and she didn't—or couldn't—say it.

And tonight, she was doing it again.

Rafael thought as quickly as his skills allowed him to—he wanted to try and figure out wha was left for her to tell him—but then a little voice in his head cautioned him not to cross that line because once upon a time, Montserrat had said that to him directly. Don't cross where you're not welcomed, she had told him. If Montserrat wasn't talking now, it was for a reason.

Drawing in a breath, he slid his hands over her face. He leaned close to her; he was able to see those light sprinkle of freckles over her face. "There are just some things that you can't say. Nobody is owed your secrets, remember that?"

How could Montserrat forget? He only told her that a thousand times before they were together. "But you'd be mad with me for sure," she said with noticeable fear in her tone. "And Raf, if you were ever that mad with me...I don't know what I'd do. I don't want to lose you." It genuinely terrified her to even think about that moment happening. She loved him. She'd actually gone and fallen in love with him. She couldn't lose him.

"Montserrat Irene," Rafael gripped her face just slightly enough to keep her still, "You'll never lose me."

"But—"

"Shh," Rafael dragged his thumb over Montserrat's lips, "You want me to go all courthouse on you? Because I'm ready to deliver several pieces of evidence to back my case." Montserrat smiled lightly. "I'm here hasta el final."

Montserrat's smile had widened, her entire face nearly brightening up. It was exactly what Rafael wanted to see. "You're willing to go that big for me?" she asked. "Hasta...final?" She tried her best to mimic his perfect Spanish but of course her lack of knowledge gave her a sharp accent.

Rafael adored her attempt nonetheless. "Hasta el final," he said for her again. "Until the end."

Montserrat's stomach fluttered with nervous butterflies. 'I love you' wanted to spill out of her but a tiny part of her knew this wasn't the right moment. She wanted it to be the perfect moment, not soured by her problems. "You're prepared to stay with me that long, then?"

Rafael nodded. "Are you?"

"Of course! Hasta el final!"

"We're going to work on that," Rafael said with a light laugh. Montserrat tried saying it again but her accent was too heavy to get it right that time. Rafael was more than happy to keep repeating it for her. "Hasta el final," he pressed a kiss on her lips.

"Hasta el final," Montserrat dutifully repeated after him. She got another kiss. "Was that better?"

"Sort of. We can keep practicing." The more they practiced, the more kisses he could give her.

~ 0 ~

Montserrat barely stifled a yawn behind her hand. She fixed her gaze on her laptop screen, intending on finishing up her paperwork before lunch.

"Here," Amanda stopped by with a cup of coffee to put on the desk. Montserrat was eternally grateful for it and drank a good amount in her first go.

Amanda laughed teasingly. "Why are you so tired?"

Montserrat's shoulders slumped. She felt like a child being questioned.

"I don't want to be a snitch…" Sonny started, tapping his pen against the edge of his desk and completely ignoring Montserrat's warning look, "But last time I heard from Kara, you and Barba were out on a date…"

"Watch your words very carefully, Carisi," Montserrat glared. All Sonny did was smirk.

Already, Amanda and Fin were cackling with the new piece of information. It was as if Sonny didn't already know how childish and teasing their squad could be!

Montserrat let out an exasperated groan. "You guys are worse than my four year old niece!"

"Isn't she five now?" Sonny asked and received a very sharp 'shut up' in return that had Amanda and Fin laughing even harder.

Montserrat had some pretty good words prepared for all her lovely coworkers but a stranger walked into the bullpen asking for help. At best, she was better off tending to the man instead of getting pink slips. She got up from her desk and headed towards the man, sneaking in a smack against Sonny's arm on the way. "Hello," she greeted the man, "Can I help you?"

The man seemed to be looking around for someone, and confirmed it. "Yeah. Where's Nicky?"

"Who?"

"Nicky Amaro."

"Oh, Nick?" Montserrat blinked. The man nodded. "Um, he's sort of in the middle of an interrogation right now. May I ask who you are? Just so I know what to tell him?"

"I'm his father," the man said with a big grin.

Montserrat's eyes widened. Her head flipped over her shoulder. The others had stopped laughing instantaneously. Suddenly, Montserrat felt like the pink slip would've been ten times easier to deal with instead of what she now had to do. Because of course as soon as the others knew, they offered to stay with the man until Montserrat came back with Nick.

Montserrat mouthed an 'I hate you all' to the group before leaving.

Since both Nick and Olivia were inside the interrogation room, Montserrat couldn't come out with it. She figured Nick would have enough trouble dealing with the fact his father was there — no criminal needed to know that too.

"I just need Nick for a moment," Montserrat said to Olivia, ignoring the interested way their current suspect was gazing at her. It was disgusting but unfortunately part of the job. "It might be two, actually," Montserrat added, thinking about how long it would take for Nick to come back from all this.

As far as anyone knew, his father was no good man.

"Really? Now?" Nick asked, failing to see the urgency behind Montserrat's quiet tone. She nodded at him, making eyes with Olivia for help.

"It's okay, I got it," Olivia told Nick, gesturing to him to leave with Montserrat. He didn't have much choice after that.

"What's so important that you had to take me out of an interrogation?" Nick didn't fail to ask as soon as the door shut behind them. "In the middle of it too!"

"Don't shoot the messenger, please," Montserrat said, beginning their walk back to the bullpen. She made sure to take slow steps too. "Someone's here to see you."

"What, who?" Nick asked.

Montserrat's shoulders rose in anxious anticipation for her answer. "Your father…" She had said it so low that Nick didn't hear the first time.

"What?"

"...your father…"

"Montserrat, I can't hear you!"

"Your father!" Montserrat finally exclaimed, immediately taking a step back from Nick. He would need ample space.

"My fa— he's here!?" Nick scowled. "You let him in!?"

Montserrat's entire posture changed at the stupid accusation. "What!? It's not like I have the keys to this place!? We don't exactly keep people out!"

"That's my — you couldn't have said I wasn't here!?"

"He wasn't going to leave if I had said something!"

"I don't want to see him!"

"Then go tell him that!"

Nick stared long at Montserrat, and for a second she wondered if he was coming up with more things to blame her for. How bad was his relationship to his father? Montserrat wished that she knew and yet at the same time she wished she never learned.

"He's in here?" Nick asked again, his tone much calmer although Montserrat suspected it would take very little to push him again.

She nodded. "He's asking to see you."

"Did he tell you why?"

"No."

Nick shook his head, heaving a heavy sigh. It was clear as day that he would rather be anywhere but here right now.

"Look, if you don't want to see him, go tell him that," Montserrat suggested again. "Because if you don't go out, he won't get that message. You have to leave sometime."

Nick hated that she made sense. His muttered 'fine' came out like a child but given the situation, Montserrat wouldn't point it out.

The two returned to the bullpen to find that Nicolas had somehow enraptured the whole bullpen with a story. It marked an even deeper scowl on Nick's face. It didn't help when he was forced to go have lunch with his father, albeit a really short one at that.

"It was his father?" Olivia couldn't hide her surprise when the others told her. She had finished their interrogation on her own and was only just now understanding what happened.

"It was his father," Montserrat confirmed and nodded. "Kinda felt guilty for going to grab him knowing he wouldn't want to come."

"Yeah, but it's not like we were going to be able to let the man stay here all day," Fin said, shrugging, "Amaro was going to have to come out anyways."

"Well, how bad do you think it's going to be when he comes back?" Sonny asked, genuinely curious.

Nobody was sure how bad it would be but that it was just going to be bad. And sure enough, twenty minutes later as Nick had promised earlier, he was coming back full of rage.

"Nicolas Fiorello Amaro is getting married!" He dropped his coat on the back of his chair haphazardly. "Again!"

Everyone else at their desks exchanged looks. Their silence didn't deter Nick at all.

"To a child bride, and he wants me to come!"

It was obvious what his answer had been.

"And since going would require pretending that he and I have a relationship, or that what happened in our home didn't actually happen—"

"Nick," Olivia was the brave soul who dared to intervene, "You have every right to be upset, okay?"

Nick didn't hear quite right. He wasn't hearing anything at times. "He doesn't get to wipe the slate!"

"We know—"

"It's not fair—"

"We understand, but—"

"Nick, it's not about him," Olviia finally managed to speak over Nick, at least for a moment. "This is about you holding on to your anger. Okay? I've learned that in order to heal, we have to let go."

"Oh, so, what, you've forgiven your father? Or William Lewis?" Nick snapped before the words he spoke even registered in his head. Before Olivia could react to the thrown questions, Montserrat stepped in to help both of them out.

"Letting go and forgiving are two very different concepts," she said, eyes directly on Nick. He turned to her and she half expected him to throw something at her as well. "I don't know which one Olivia picked but I can tell you what I chose."

Nick seemed to contemplate but at the same time he was willing to listen.

"My mom? Regina?" Montserrat reminded him. "She skipped out on our family. I was four and I really needed a mom. Hell, half the times I'm pretty sure I could still use one. I have not forgiven her for abandoning us like that and I probably never will. But at the same time, I'm not going to spend every day of my life being angry at her because she's not worth my time. I let it go, Nick. I know what she did, I hate her for it, but I'm not spending my energy on it and her."

Nick nodded slightly, perhaps to acknowledge that Montserrat had tried helping him out, but whether or not it worked was still unclear. Montserrat leaned back in her chair, waiting to hear the verdict. In the end, however, Nick stormed away from the group.

~0~

"I don't think he liked my words very much," Montserrat later relayed the story to Rafael over dinner.

It was one of those nights where he couldn't get away from the office so they had dinner right there.

"Well, how'd you say it?" Rafael half laughed at his joke, much to Montserrat's annoyance. "You tend to speak loudly sometimes," he added but that didn't make it better either.

Montserrat promptly reached across the couch and took the last piece of chicken she had so graciously given to him because it was his favorite. She made a show of dropping it into her mouth.

Rafaep nodded at her. "Very mature."

"You're one to talk! Did you even listen to me!?"

Rafael pointed at Montserrat. "See? There you go!"

"This date is about to end a lot sooner than you think."

Rafael set his plate on the coffee table and raised his hands in front of him. "Okay, okay, I'm done."

Montserrat scooted closer to him, showing her grand pout. "Seriously, do you think I overstepped with Nick?"

"Nick's got a hard attitude anyways. Don't worry so much about it." Rafael knew he sure wouldn't.

"The only reason you say that is because you and Nick have similar attitudes," Montserrat said. "It's why you clash so much."

"Even then, I don't think you said anything wrong," Rafael shrugged. "You offered a different perspective. A good one, I'll say." He smiled at Montserrat, reaching up to stroke her cheek. "Noble of you." She smiled at him. "And if Nick has anything to say about that, he's going to have a word with me."

Montserrat chuckled. As much as she liked to believe he was joking, she knew it took very little to get him and Nick started. She was just an excuse but even then, she felt a tad special.

"Now about my chicken…"

Montserrat's eyes widened.

"That was my favorite part of the plate," Rafael said, pointing at Montserrat. She raised her hands in defense and yet her growing smile gave very few implications that she was not sorry at all.

"I needed to make a point," she said, trying to back away as he scooted closer to her.

"Mhm, and that meant eating my dinner?"

"It was mine first!"

"Mhm, you're such a thief," Rafael reached for Montserrat's waist to keep her from backing away.

"Am not!"

"I should prosecute you!"

"Fine but I'll get Rita as my defense attorney!"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Or Buchanan!"

"Don't you dare!" Rafael yanked Montserrat up to him. Her head fell on his shoulder, laughing.

~0~

As it turned out, Nick's meetings with his father did not end after their first lunch together. One week later at half past midnight, Nick got a call. The following day, SVU was taking over the case.

"You mean Nick's father did this?" Sonny did very little to keep his voice down, although Montserrat chucking a balled-up paper at his face served to remind him for future references.

"Rollins is over at the hospital talking to the fiancee right now," Fin told the two detectives. They were the only ones in the bullpen for the moment. "But listen, Liv just got a heads up that the parademics think Nick forced the fiancee to change her story."

"What? He wouldn't do that," Montserrat made a face, "It is literally the last thing he would ever do."

"Why do they think that anyways?" Sonny asked.

"He was the outcry the victim spoke to and apparently Nick and her talked in spanish for a bit. They misinterpreted it."

"Big time," Montserrat nodded. "How's Nick doing right now? Is he coming in at all?" It was no rocket science that Nick would have to sit this case out given his extremely close ties to it, but it didn't mean that he would go quietly..

Sure enough, a few hours later, Rollins returned with the details of the victim's - Gabriella - story, Olivia and Nick walked in together with the latter looking none too pleased. He was back on desk duty until further notice.

"Look, if my father did something, I don't want anyone here risking anything on his behalf," Nick made the announcement as he begrudgingly sat down at his desk.

"No one said you were…" Sonny mumbled only to get another paper ball thrown at his face. At his questioning gesture, Montserrat mouthed 'stop talking' at him.

Men could really be an extra type of clueless when they wanted to be.

"Well now she's claiming that another guy sexually assaulted her," Amanda said, "So we need to follow that lead as well."

Olivia agreed and started passing out assignments. "We need a timeline, witness statements, cell phone pics, any video footage from that party!"

"And so who's the guy she's accusing now?" Sonny looked over at Amanda as the blonde had already began working at her desk.

"Hm," Amanda smiled sourly, "Javier Arenas. And look at this. Up until a year ago, he was on the registry. Statutory rape."

"Start there," Olivia gave the order.

Soon enough, they would be interviewing Javier to discuss the matter of his trouble with the law. He didn't take it so seriously.

"Statutory rape?" He scoffed at the pair of detectives. "I was 19, she was 16. Her father was a cop. Took me ten years to clear my name!"

"And yet it took only one night to mess it up," Montserrat said wryly, "Gabriella Nuñez claims you assaulted her."

Javier scoffed again. "Come on. We did some dirty dancing. I had my hands on her, but she was backing up that bus on me pretty good first."

"That's it?" Sonny raised a brow at the man.

"I whispered to her that I could do things without needing a blue pill. She caught Nicolas looking at her. She freaked out, took off."

"Downstairs, where you followed her?"

"No. I'm a lover, not a fighter—"

Montserrat made no attempt to hold her scoff in.

"I stayed on the dance floor... ask anyone."

"And Nicolas' daughter...Sonya?"

Javier nodded. "Yeah, whatever. I danced with her next. She didn't just back up the bus. She parked it. Better yet, ask Gabriella's father, Luis. He saw the whole thing."

"I think we're done," Montserrat couldn't have said any quicker. She did not like the man in across her and if she stayed there, she might lose her job.

Sonny led the way out of the interrogation room, leaving Javier inside to dwell on his misfortune. "What do you think?" He asked Montserrat and Olivia, the latter having watched everything from her side of the office.

"I think he's just about every jock in high school," Montserrat answered before Olivia's mouth even opened.

Olivia hummed at the image. She could very well agree with Montserrat's claim. "Rollins and Fin just came back from talking to the vic's father right now."

"What he say?" asked Sonny.

Olivia looked like she struggled to answer. They were all struggling with the case knowing who was being tormented every minute until it came to a close. "Mr. Nuñez claims that Nicolas hurt his daughter."

"Did he see it?" Montserrat asked, unsure if she even wanted to hear the answer. On the one hand, if they had a witness who could place Nicolas at the scene it meant the victim would have an easier trial but it also meant that poor Nick would be dragged under it too.

Olivia shook her head. "He didn't but he says he saw the looks that Nicolas gave Gabriella. He also saw Nicolas go downstairs after Gabriella. He saw Nicolas coming back and rubbing ice on his knuckles."

"Ah, so he saw but he didn't see," Sonny finally got it.

~ 0 ~

When it was time to bring in Nicolas at the station to talk, the squad decided it was best for Nick not to be in. Olivia gave him the day off — he wasn't happy about it one bit.

"Do I have to be one of them in there?" Montserrat asked Olivia once Nicolas was inside the interrogation room waiting for a pair of detectives to go in and talk to him. Montserrat didn't feel like she should be one of them. "It's weird."

Olivia guffawed slightly. "This is the job, Novak. Did you forget that?"

"Course not but he's just so...not Nick." Montserrat shuddered. "Nick's actually genuinely sweet? And a gentleman?"

Olivia seemed like she was ready to say something but ended up closing her mouth and smiling rather strangely. "You know what, I'll send Rollins and Fin instead. I've got another job for you."

Montserrat blinked. She didn't think that would actually work. "Um, okay! What is it?"

Olivia's strange smile widened. "I'll tell you in a bit. Barba, just in time."

Montserrat turned in time to see Rafael coming up to them. "Hey, you."

"Where's the fire?" Rafael went straight to the point.

Olivia gestured the way to her office, making a point for Montserrat to follow as well. They watched Rollins and Fin go back and forth with Nicolas, the latter keeping up his charade of a good guy. He even seemed to believe it.

"He's contradicting himself," Montserrat said in the middle of the interrogation. "If he hit a wall because he was trying to hit Javier, then Javier would have defensive wounds."

"And does he?" asked Rafael.

"Nope," went both Montserrat and Olivia simultaneously.

Rafael figured he shouldn't even have asked. He resigned to watch the rest of the interrogation before it got too unbearable and he called it quits. "You know, Cubans come to this country, and within one generation, we're doctors, lawyers, CEOs of major corporations, but the only headline you ever read in the paper is 'Crazy Cubans in wedding brawl'. I hate this."

"Yeah, we can tell," Montserrat remarked, eyeing him with some decent concern. It wasn't often that a case affected him more than it should.

"Look, none of us want to be here, but this guy is guilty," Olivia's reassurance was too...urgent, for Rafael's taste.

"You seem awfully sure…" He said slowly, giving the impression there was a question coming. He offered the Sergeant the chance to tell him before he actually asked but since it appeared like Olivia was stalling, he went ahead and asked. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

Olivia's gaze landed on Montserrat for some reason. The detective in question straightened up and waited for Olivia's sure to be coming instruction.

"Remember that other job I wanted you to do?"

"Um, yeah," nodded Montserrat, "What was it anyways?"

Olivia wore that strange smile she had when Rafael first showed up. "I'll let you fill in the blanks for him." She patted Montserrat's shoulder on her way into the interrogation room.

"Oh, no, no, no," Montserrat shook her head fervently. Doing the interrogation sounded a whole lot better now. "You can't do thi—" Olivia shut the door behind her. "Maybe she can do that," she said with a huff.

Rafael tilted his head at Montserrat. "I'm sorry, are we back to hating each other at work?"

Montserrat playfully rolled her eyes at him. "Look, you're not going to like what I have to tell you about this case."

"Didn't you hear me?" Rafael gestured towards the glass wall beside them. "I already hate this. What more can you tell me that'll make this worse?"

On another day, Montserrat would've loved the opportunity to prove Rafael wrong. But, given the situation and his feelings that he made clear, Montserrat decided to play it nicer. "Okay, um, so...Nicolas—" she gestured at the man in the other room currently trying to sweet talk Olivia, "—is, uh...well….he's Nick's father."

Rafael froze altogether. His eyebrows shot up. Montserrat patiently waited for the information to fully register in his head. She supposed it would take a while.

But Rafael was a prosecutor above all and that meant he was quick to come back on his feet. "Sorry — what? That man is Nick's father!?"

"...yeah…"

"I stand corrected, this is even worse than I thought!" Rafael turned completely to the glass window and watched the interrogation under a whole new light. As tensed as his relationship to Nick was sometimes, Rafael couldn't imagine Nick being related to the man in front of him right now.

"Yeah, I know, I couldn't believe it either," Montserrat sighed, as if she had read Rafael's mind. "They're so different. Although, I'm not going to lie, I can see where Nick gets his headstrong trait. The father's worse."

"Given the situation, yeah, I can see that."

"Sorry."

Rafael could've heard the wince in Montserrat's tone and that was unfair. "No, it's — this is hard." He raised his hands and turned from the window. "Where's Amaro right now?"

"Officially — off the case," Montserrat said, "Olivia thought it was best if he wasn't even in the precinct today."

Rafael nodded. "Yeah. That was a good call. He needs to stay far away from this case."

"He knows—"

"But he needs to actually do it," Rafael reiterated. "I know the track record of this squad and I'm guilty myself of doing the same thing when it was about Alex so I need you all to understand this. If Nick gets too close to this, there is no case."

Montserrat nodded dutifully. "I know, I hear you. We'll talk to Nick."

Talk. Rafael almost sneered at the idea. He knew how it would go. Nick would still try to do something even if it was with good intentions.

[heimdallsbraids]

Blood of Mine | Ch. 2 (Heimdall x fem!reader)

Summary: Life is pretty simple. Survive the harsh conditions of Fimbulwinter in Midgard, trade with your dwarven friends in Svartalfheim and – avoid the shit out of Odin’s most loyal lapdog? If word reaches the All-Father about your blood-bending origins, you’re doomed… (Hints of Avatar: TLA, but not a crossover)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Profanity, mentions of death

Previous chapter | Next chapter

View on AO3

Chapter Two: The Offer

As much as you hated it, shivering underneath layers upon layers of clothing was becoming second nature to you as you slowly plodded your way across the frozen Lake of Nine with two freshly caught rabbits slung over your shoulder. It was a lot less than what you wanted – no, expected – from today’s hunt, but it’s not like you would’ve been able to hike a deer all the way back to camp without your sled.

Thanks to your father, he’d all but given it away to a couple of raiders during your last visit to Svartalfheim, ultimately leaving you with no form of transport around Midgard. No form of transport meant a hell of a lot more work for you to keep the trade afloat.

“Sure, Dad. Just donate the sled. I mean, why the Hel would we need that piece of crap anyway?” You mumbled under your breath. “Should’ve just stayed in Niðavellir and worked for Durlin full-time �� perhaps toss a cup of mead in that stupid Aesir prick’s face the next time he visits.”

Several weeks had gone by since your unfortunate run-in with Heimdall in Svartalfheim, and you hadn’t been back since. Durlin had become mighty antsy that another event like that would happen and had all but forbade you to return so as to let it blow over. You attempted to voice your protest by visiting the realm the very next day, but you only made it a few steps out of the mystic gateway before you were shoved right back in and sent on your merry way. You understood why he was being this way, but it didn’t make it any less frustrating.

He was one of the only souls who knew your mother, Randi, personally before she died. She was a powerful Valkyrie who served under the former queen Freya many years ago before she was killed in the midst of battle - or so you'd been told. You were only young when it happened, but it left a gaping hole in your heart that could never quite be filled.

Frankly, to this day, you have no idea how your father managed to land someone like her, but here you are - and wielding a dangerous power thought to no longer exist, at that: blood-bending. An extremely rare power it was; the ability to control a person or being from within, to tear them down from the inside as if they were nothing but a clump of wet sand. As far as you knew, your mother didn’t harness those same powers but rather passed them down through a long line of descendants – and even that was difficult to get a grasp on.

Unfortunately, this paints a giant red target upon your back for power-hungry people like Odin. If he were to get his hands on you, especially during this fragile window before Ragnarök, you and many others were doomed.

Luckily, no one but a tight-knit group of family and friends – including Durlin and Lúnda – knew of your circumstance, having taken an oath the moment your mother discovered the power flowing within your veins. But that didn’t make it impossible to find out if one dug deep enough. Hence, why you are lying low in Midgard under the guise of being a simple, mortal tradeswoman. With a few dwarven friends, of course. Your Vanir roots were practically non-existent to those who didn’t know you, and that was just the way you liked it.

“Dad?” You called upon making it to the cave where your crew had set up camp. Waving to the few who noticed your arrival, you quickly headed to where your shared tent was. You called out once more, basking in the warm glow of the fire outside, “Hey, you in there?”

A groan of ‘mm in ‘ere,’ was your only confirmation before the retching sounds began.

You grimaced, “Ugh… when is this ever gonna stop?”

As expected, there was no response to your jab, only more retching. The soft part of you considered heading inside and comforting him with some water and a small serving of soup to regain his strength, but that thought was immediately snuffed out the second you laid today’s excuse for a hunt on the makeshift bench near the tent.

Gonna have to go hunting tomorrow, too, you grumbled inwardly.

You set to work skinning and preparing the rabbits for the camp cook. It should suffice for a couple of days’ worth of rations if everyone spaced it out, but they weren’t exactly on the large side, so you weren’t holding your breath. You were in the midst of fixing up a flask of fresh water when a familiar voice floated through the camp.

Shock coloured your features once you spotted the culprit, “Durlin?”

He looked relieved to see you as he marched past a handful of curious locals, ignoring their puzzled expressions. He never visited the camp. Hel, even Midgard was a rare outing for him these days, the dwarf all too happy to stay nice and cosy in his home realm.

“How’s Björn?” He asked, finally reaching your workstation.

“Throwing up.” Your lips formed a thin line. “Now, why are you really here?”

“Straight to the point, eh?” He muttered, looking around before voicing lowly, “Something’s come up. I need you to come back with me.”

You folded your arms across your chest, quirking a brow at him. “I thought I wasn’t permitted.”

“I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t… urgent.” He pressed, glancing around once again. Come to think of it, he did look more rattled than usual.

“It can’t wait?”

He shook his head.

“… Fine,” you conceded. “You’re lucky I like you.”

He anxiously waited as you readied yourself, choosing to poke his head inside the tent to greet your dad. Disgust was written over his face as you finished packing your things and left the meat with the cook. The trek to the mystic gate felt longer than usual, your short friend barely uttering a word as he ushered you in.

“Are you going to tell me what’s happening, or are we playing some sort of guessing game?” You asked, blinking rapidly as your eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight of Svartalfheim.

“There’s someone who wants to meet you.”

“You’re being awfully cryptic, you know?”

His expression remained grim as he led you straight to the southern docks, bypassing his home and the safety office. A tall figure stood with their back to you, all on their lonesome as they observed the calm blue waves lapping at the jetty. A dark brown cape with green and gold accents flowed over their shoulders, granting them a mysterious air of superiority. Upon hearing your footsteps, they turned around. It was an older man you didn’t recognise. With an eyepatch.

You glanced down to Durlin. "The Hel?"

He only shook his head.

The confusion on your face must’ve been clear as day because he regarded you with a light chuckle.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve asked to meet you. The name’s Odin.” It suddenly felt like a stone was lodged inside your throat. He continued, “Your friend here tells me you’re struggling to make a living. Something about your father?”

“Yep.” You responded, narrowed eyes never once leaving Durlin’s, even as he looked anywhere else but at you.

Odin sidled forward, placing a gentle hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. “Now, now, no need for the hostility. Durlin was simply worried for your wellbeing.”

“Sure,” you offered, finally regarding the taller man with a forced smile. “But I’ve managed this long on my own. I’m sure I can hold out a little longer.”

He chuckled once again, “Determined. I like that.”

He placed his hands on his hips, a tiny grin stretched across his lips as he regarded the water once again. You couldn’t help but stare. For some reason, you’d had a grander image of the God painted in your head. Perhaps taller? Less old-looking even though he had centuries upon centuries on you.

“I wanted to offer you a place working with my merchants in Asgard, perhaps expanding the trade when the time is right. I’ve heard you’re pretty nifty in the kitchen, too. Lord knows Gladsheim could use a little shake-up with the food.”

Your mouth fell open. Just how much has Durlin blabbed about you? Here you were, weeks with no communication whatsoever between the two of you, and now all of a sudden Odin himself was inviting you back to Asgard with him? As a chef, no less?

No… this is bad news. I’ve got to stay away from him. You eyed the dwarf beside you once again. I’m gonna have a stern chat with this little shit as soon as-

Your chaotic train of thought was interrupted. “Having doubts? To sweeten the deal, I’m more than happy to discuss a working wage – with enough to send home for your father, of course.”

He had you there. Money was a constant problem over recent years, what with your father draining most of it away on his pick of poison. That, and his lack of assistance with the trade certainly didn’t help either.

You mulled it over carefully. He didn’t seem to know who you were other than the fact that you were a struggling Midgardian with Durlin as a friend. Perhaps it couldn’t hurt to give it a try - if only to get you and your father out of the sticks?

“I’ll give it a shot.” You agreed, but before he could say anything else, you added, “On one condition.”

“You name it.”

“I, uh, I could do with some new clothes. Mine are kind of…” you trailed off, scratching at the back of your neck in embarrassment.

“Consider it done,” he smiled, reaching over to place an arm on your shoulders. “Shall we head off then?”

Durlin’s worried face was the last thing you saw before you were enveloped in a dark flurry of screeching ravens.

[firstprince-ao3feed]

let me love you

let me love you https://ift.tt/ZIEQ2Bj by whateveridk After announcing their relationship to the public, things got crazy and they got so, so much better. The Crown is in a state of thinly veiled contempt, the internet loves them, and the media cares entirely too much about them. Asking for privacy is, at times, a loss cause, but the freedom Henry and Alex gained through that one Instagram post is enough to get drunk on. It is a lot. It always will be a lot. But Henry wouldn’t trade it for anything. Loving Alex publicly is what he has been dreaming of this whole time. He gets to have that now, and everything else is crap as far as he is concerned.   Of course, the honeymoon period cannot last forever. The glow never fades but sometimes, something else creeps in.   Then, the very next day, Alex stops eating and Henry is helpless to do anything but watch.   A continuation of the series. Fully written and updating every Monday :) Words: 2462, Chapters: 1/5, Language: English Series: Part 3 of You deserve my love Fandoms: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston, Red White & Royal Blue (2023) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Alex Claremont-Diaz, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, June Claremont-Diaz, Nora Holleran, Percy "Pez" Okonjo Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, June Claremont-Diaz/Nora Holleran, Alex Claremont-Diaz & June Claremont-Diaz, Alex Claremont-Diaz & Nora Holleran, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor & Percy "Pez" Okonjo Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eating Disorders, Alex Claremont-Diaz Needs a Hug, Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor Loves Alex Claremont-Diaz, POV Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Eventual Smut, but mild, eating disorder tag is the Plot so be warned via AO3 works tagged 'Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor' https://ift.tt/IHMkqW2 January 15, 2024 at 05:50PM

[justali-anne]

Undertale characters - Scale of GOODNESS

Scale:

Bad Boi/Gorl/Smol

Dahk Grey

Mehhhhhh

Somewhat Gud

Gud

A Good Boi/Gorl/Smol!

A Fantastic Boi/Gorl/Smol!!!

Frisk (3) - Depends on the route. This kid is capable of anything, from saving all of monsterkind to assisting with the erasure of the world!

Flowey (2) - He is a bad guy for the most part, but he has some redeemability to him.

Toriel (5/6) - She's in between these. What stops her from a higher rating is her hypocrisy and bitterness towards Asgore (which is totally justified). Otherwise, she's an overly worrying mother figure who's been through a lot of crap, and honestly just wants you to be safe (though she could improve her approach a bit).

Sans (6) - I might be a little biased here (lol), but when I look at Sans, all I get from him is silly supportive big brother vibes. He wants the best for his friends and his brother especially and he proves to be insanely loyal to them. He wants to befriend you but if you drive him to it, he will try to stop you in any way possible from destroying the world. What keeps him from being a 7 is, well, his laziness. Also his hesitation to stop you from killing everyone he cares about until you're LV 19. And his mischievous tendencies, of course. Seriously, edgy much?

Papyrus (7) - Need I say more? Okay, actually, yes I will. Papyrus is goofy, supportive, ambitious, loyal, and tries his best with everything he does, even when he's bad at it. He keeps that beautiful balance of being a mature adult while healthily embracing his inner child. He believes in you, even when you don't. He's just... He truly deserves the name he gives himself.

Undyne (5) - She attacks a human child, sure... But honestly, I think she's just trying her best. When you befriend her, she's actually a really good friend. Loyal, supportive, passionate, fun to be around... And she will immediately step in when she can to help others in need. What keeps her from being higher is... well, other than her meanness, the fact that she thought it would be best to kill a child.

Alphys (3) - Alphys is a toughie. She's not BAD, but she's not entirely good either. She's nice and very passionate once you get to know her, and her anxiety and depression makes it super hard to hate her, at least for me. Especially since she sincerely regrets everything she's done. But... experiments aside (which I don't think she would have anticipated), she still has manipulative tendencies and is a compulsive liar. She lied about Mettaton to get her job in the first place, she used Mettaton to be a part of Frisk's story, and she lied to Undyne about things like anime so Undyne would think she's cool. She can actually be pretty dangerous if she applies herself to the wrong thing. But honestly, I don't think she's entirely bad, and she has the potential to become a much better person. She's already proved this when she evacuated all the monsters in the No Mercy route. She'll get there.

Mettaton (3) - He's selfish, egotistical, a bad boss towards Burgerpants in particular, vain, dangerous, has both selfish and selfless intentions behind trying to kill you, charismatic, helpful, caring, simultaneously loves his fans and humans, and absolutely hilarious. When the time comes, he can be rather selfless, like in the Genocide route when he sacrifices himself so Alphys can save more monsters. But he's also pretty selfish, such as leaving Napstablook alone to their depression in order to achieve fame. He's a bit of a mixed bag, really.

Asgore (4) - Honestly just trying his best. He's been through a LOT of crap, okay?! From the war to losing his family and his best friend, is there any wonder why he did what he did? He felt like he had no other choice because he just wanted everyone to have hope. Give the guy a break... And a real redemption arc because we only get to see him for one or two scenes in every route. I feel like more screen time would suffice.

Okay, that's all the main characters! Now it's time to add some extra ones!

Chara (3) - Is it still controversial to discuss them?

Asriel (4) - What keeps him from being higher is his actions during his Hyperdeath high. This kid is sweet and cute, but he can be really malicious when he feels like it. I'll give him some slack, though. He's been through a lot... OF CRAP.

Napstablook (5) - If they would step up more, then I think they would be higher! They deserve a lot of love and kindness after being alone for so long!

Anyway, I'm losing my motivation for this post, so I might make a Part 2. Who knows?

[musings-of-a-rose]

As a far girl I would absolutely love a smutty part two to that Benny story ! Literally almost teared up reading it because I literally grew up as the Duff or the fat funny friend. The one who never gets the guy or that people hang out with just so they look better.

Also, if you’re up for it could you do one where say, Frankie chooses the chubby girl over her smokin hot friend ? And I don’t want any animosity between em, I want the smoking hot friend to be like “you go girl” or something ? I used to be able to write but I haven’t written in years ! Also can be smutty of course.

How I See You

Pairing: Frankie Morales x plus size f!reader

Word Count: 2600+ (I thought this was going to be short MY BAD)

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Part 2 of I’m Really Into You is COMING! I’m so sorry you had to go through that. It’s not fair on anyone and I hope you find/have found your Benny! 

Thanks to @vanemando15 for being a beta and telling me I’m not losing it 🙃

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

Main Masterlist

Frankie Morales Masterlist

“There! I found a clear table!” Your friend Olivia points to the far corner of the semi-crowded bar, grabbing your hand and pulling you behind her through the crowd, getting a few wolf-whistles as she did. She smirks, knowing how hot she is and and you can’t blame her - if you felt half as hot as her, you’d smirk too.

2 tall barstools are on either side of a small high table. Olivia settles into one while you take the other, setting the drinks you had ordered at the bar down on the table. The night had just started so the bar wasn’t terribly crowded, but it was still busy enough for you. 

“I can’t believe I finally managed to rip you away from work!” Olive chuckles at you as she takes a sip of her drink.

“I had to celebrate that project ending. I feel like I haven’t come up for air in months.” 

“I’ll drink to that!” Olivia raises her glass and you clink yours against hers, the sound of the glasses being absorbed by the sounds of the bar.

Chatting idly for a bit, you start to go into a mini rant about how much crap that work project had dumped on you, when Olivia interrupts.

“We need to get you laid, Pip.”

“Yeah if only. Going to be hard to find someone who wants this-” You gesture towards yourself “-when you-” you gesture towards Olivia “-are sitting within my vicinity.”

“Oh whatever. You’re hot!”

“Yeah that’s why I get asked out all the time.” When was the last time you had gotten laid, let alone gone on an actual date?

Olivia fixes you with a look. “I wish you would see yourself through my eyes, Pip. You’re a great person, hot, smart. You have a lot to offer.”

You nod absentmindedly, glancing towards the table in the corner where 5 men erupt into raucous, loud laughter. Heat rises to your cheeks and you look away quickly when the man in the hat glances over at you as if he felt you looking at him, tears running down his face as laughter continues to pour out of him. 

“Anyway, Pip. I’m glad to at least get you out of the house. I would’ve gone nuts sitting at my computer all day. I don’t know how you did it.”

You shrug. “It’s my job.”

“Yeah that’s true. Still, it’s amazing that you-”

“Excuse me?” The man in the hat that you had locked eyes with a few minutes ago is standing at your table, glancing between you both as if asking for your permission to interrupt your conversation. He’s more handsome up close: a dark blue hat sits on his head, a logo for an oil company embroidered in, dark curls flip out from the bottom of the hat and around his ears, curling up and away from his neck. His eyes are a deep chocolate color, his nose is romanesque and beautiful, with a mustache under it, darker patchy facial hair across his cheeks and jaw. He’s broad, his shoulders look massive in the light denim shirt he wears and you can see that the shirt is stretching at the seams as he shifts under it. He tapers down to a thinner waist and hips, the slight swell of a tummy poking from behind his shirt. This man is hot and there’s no way he’s here for you.

“My name is Frankie and I was wondering-”

You put a hand up. “Say no more, Frankie? I’ll just go sit at the bar.”

“No Pip. Stay.” Your friend looks at you from across the small table.

“It’s alright, Olivia. I’ll just be-”

“Actually-” Frankie inerrupts, blushing slightly when you both turn to look at him, his large hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, an obvious nervous habit “-I was wondering if I could buy you a drink.”

Oh shit, is he looking at me?

“You mean Olivia?” You point to your friend across the table, ignoring the grin that’s spreading across her face as she looks between you and Frankie.

“No. I mean you.” His voice drops an octave on the last word and you can feel a heat growing inside you. 

“M-me?”

He lets out a chuckle, looking down and back up at you as if he was nervous. “Yeah. But only if you w-want to? Have a drink? W-with me?”

“I-” You’re not used to this attention. Olivia is the one who draws people in, not you. You look to her for advice and see, to your horror, that she’s already gathering up her drink. She mouths at you “You go girl!”, gives you a wink, and then speaks.

“I’ll just go sit at the bar.” She shuffles from her seat and makes her way across the room, sitting at a barstool, tossing one more giant smile over at you, silently pointing to Frankie and making lewd gestures.

You feel the heat rising to your cheeks so you look away, finding that Frankie is already looking at you. 

“I- I’m sorry, Frankie. I’m just not used to…this.” You gesture between you both.

Frankie looks shocked. “I find that hard to believe.”

You laugh and Frankie melts. “It’s been so long since I’ve been on a date-” You visibly wince at your confession, Frankie smiling at you. “I shouldn’t have told you that.”

“No, you’re fine. To be honest- may I?” He gestures to Olivia’s empty stool. You nod and gesture to her seat and Frankie sits, resuming his statement. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date too.”

“Really? Someone as handsome as you?”

He blushes, a light pink color dusting across his cheeks. “I don’t know about that but yeah. It’s true…hey did your friend call you Pip?”

You nod, looking down in embarrassment before finding his eyes again. “Yeah it’s short for Pip Squeak. To be honest, I’m not even sure why. We met in kindergarten and she called me that. I think she couldn’t remember my real name so she made it up and it stuck.”

“What’s your real name?”

You tell him and he smiles. “That’s a beautiful name.”

You scoff, taking a sip of your drink as Frankie groans. “I’m sorry. Was that too cheesy? It’s been so long I don’t even know how to do this. Has it changed?”

“Don’t ask me, Frankie. I’m definitely not an expert.” You smile at him.

“Would…would you like to find out together?”

“Are…are you asking me on a date?”

“I’m trying to be slick about it.”

You chuckle. “That was so slick it’s oil..shit that was lame.” Frankie tilts his head back and laughs, gifting you a view of his neck. 

“No that was perfect! But is that a yes?”

“I..yes. I’d love to.”

You chat for a bit longer, Frankie walking over to the bar to order a couple more drinks and a basket of fries for you both to share. He’s easy to talk to, has a ton of stories, fucking flies helicopters, and listens to every word you say. The fries arrive and you both grab some, taking a bite and then making faces as you chew. Frankie grabs the napkin from under his beer and spits into it.

“Ok, are those the worst fries ever?”

“They might possibly be.”

He looks up at you. “You…you wanna go on that date now? I know a great diner a few blocks away.”

You cock your head to the side studying his face. “Let’s go.”

Frankie heads back to his friends to tell them he’s leaving while you do the same with Olivia, who is now talking to one of the men from Frankie’s table, who introduces himself as Santi. Fuck does this guy have all handsome friends? Olivia smiles and hugs you, whispering in your ear to be safe as she covertly slides a condom in your pocket. You slap her arm and she laughs, watching you walk away. You meet up with Frankie and he offers you his arm and escorts you out of the now crowded bar. 

“You wanna follow me over? They have a lot in the back.”

“Sure. See you in a few.”

You follow Frankie’s truck out of the parking lot and several blocks down the road, parking in the empty, dark parking lot behind the diner. Frankie escorts you in here as well, the one server inside telling you to sit anywhere as it’s empty. You sit in a booth facing each other, the old leather creaking under each of you as you slide in.

“I’m sorry I don’t have flowers for you. But I can offer you better fries?”

“That works for me!”

You spend a few minutes chatting while looking at the menu, placing your order with the server. When she walks away, Frankie asks you about your job and you tell him about it, and about the project that caused you such a headache over the last 2 months, which led you to come out drinking tonight. The server sets your food in front of you and leaves you be.

“I’m sorry the project sucked but I’m glad it did.” He winks and you smile, dropping your eyes down to the table for a moment.

“But uh, Pip. There’s something I need to tell you before we go further.”

You pause, ketchup plopping onto your plate from the glass bottle you had been banging on. “You’re married.”

“What? No. Not uh..not anymore. I’m divorced.”

“Oh. That’s not anything bad.”

“And I have a kid. A daughter.”

Oh.

“Oh? How old is she?”

Frankie watches you for a moment. “She’s 5. Love of my life.”

“As she should be.”

“My ex and I split about a year after she was born. I know kids aren’t for everyone, and if you never want to talk to me again after tonight I get it. I’ll still pay for din-”

“Why wouldn’t I want to talk to you?”

He swallows hard. “Because I’m a dad.”

“That’s fine with me. I bet you’re a great dad.”

His brown eyes go wide, looking exactly like a puppy. “It really doesn’t bother you?”

“Not me. I don’t mind.”

“It means I have to talk to my ex still.”

“I figured. Joint custody?”

He nods. “50/50.”

“Is it weird if I ask about her? Your daughter. I would never pry into your ex.”

“Yeah! Yeah no it’s not weird. My ex and I split because…well she was fucking her boss so.” He shrugs, pulling out his phone and thumbing through it to find his gallery.

“I’m sorry, Frankie.”

“It is what it is. It brought me here with you…where the fuck are my photos?” His thumb swipes across the screen, his eyebrows furrowing deeper and deeper with each swipe.

“Want some help?”

He looks up at you, sighing in defeat. “Yeah. I’m not so good with the tech shit.”

“You fly helicopters.”

“That’s different. It’s not this shit.” He goes to hand you his phone, already trusting you. But you put your hand up, sliding out of the booth and scooting in next to him. He blushes, scooting down a little more to make room for you.

“This way you can control what you show me. And also it may help your muscle memory.”

“R-right. Ok.”

You start to direct him, very much aware that your thigh is flush against his, feeling heat pass between you as you lean in closer. He smells like french fries, but also like pine with a hint of mint. He finds his gallery and thanks you, flipping to an album marked “Marisol”. He flips through the album, showing you pictures and telling you all about her. His entire body lights up as he gushes about his daughter, wearing the proud dad badge on his chest. 

Before you know it, he pays and you’re scooting out of the booth, Frankie escorting you back around to the poorly-lit, deserted parking lot. You walk up to his truck, admiring it. He had explained to you how it was his grandfathers and that his dad and now him had been keeping it up over the years, replacing the engine and taking care of “her”. She had seen a lot of life and love and it was clear how well she had been taken care of. You turn to face Frankie and tell him just that, and how he should be proud of it. Maybe one day Marisol can help-

And then suddenly he’s in front of you, pushing your back gently into the side of his truck, his lips dusting across yours in a gentle kiss. He pulls back just as quick as he started, taking a step back.

“I’m so sorry, Pip. I should’ve asked. You’re just so-”

You grip his shirt and pull him towards you, completely surprising him and yourself. Your lips find his, kissing him deeply. He licks at your bottom lip and you part them with a sigh, Frankie taking advantage and sliding his tongue in your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands. Your hands come up around his neck, winding into the curls sticking out from under the hat and tugging on them. He moans into your mouth and you do it again, feeling him grip you tighter as he pulls back.

“Pip, if you keep that up, I don’t know if I’ll be able to contain myself.”

Fuck.

“What if I don’t care?” He’s so close that you can feel him through his pants.

“I-Idon’t want you to think that that’s why I asked you out.” He kisses you again, his hips slightly grinding against your leg that he was straddling.

“You could’ve hand anyone in there. Even my friend wanted to fuck you. But you chose me. Why? Why did you choose me?”

He pulls back, tracing the side of your face with his finger. “At first, because I thought you were hot as fuck. But then? Your eyes. They’re…kind. And I could use some kind in my life.” 

He dips down and kisses you again and this time you moan into his mouth, your own hips starting to roll against his thigh, a burning fire rising up inside you. His hands roam down your body and you freeze as he reaches your sides. You know you’re not in shape and you’re ok with it but sometimes it makes you feel really insecure. Frankie feels you tense and he breaks the kiss.

“What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“I..no. No you didn’t hurt me. I just..” You try to push his hands away from your sides, but he looks down, watching you struggle and then back up, comprehension dawning on him.

“Pip, you don’t have to be worried about anything. Am I making you feel uncomfortable?” He removes his hands but stays close to you.

Tears start to well up in your eyes. “I- no. You aren’t, I just…I just…”

He pushes your chin up with his finger, his bright eyes meeting yours. “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You chuckle, but he doesn’t let you look away. “I mean it, Pip. You’re an amazing woman and I’ve wanted to touch you all night. But if you don’t want me to, I can wait. It’s completely up to you.”

“I just… I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Do I look disappointed?”

You blink away the tears, feeling his thumbs wipe them off your cheeks. When you meet his eyes you finally see it - his eyes nearly black with lust, his impossibly hard cock smashed against your thigh. Even the guys who pretended to want you just for their buddies to get with Olivia didn’t look like this. No one has ever looked at you with such want, such desire, such desperate need. And it lights you up, begging you to be with him.

“No one has ever looked at me like this before.” 

He leans forward, his lips gently kissing that spot under your ear. When he speaks it’s low, raspy, and lustful. 

“Then let me show you how I see you.”

—----

How I See You Part 2 >>

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[angelasscribbles]

Secrets Chapter 6: Revelations

Series: Secrets

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Riley x Liam, Riley x Drake, Leo x Madeline

Rating: MA

Warnings for this chapter: mature themes

Word Count: 2,057

A/N: This is the last chapter ya'll! I wrote this little miniseries in a week lol! I hope at least a few of you enjoyed it and forgive my little diversion from the main series that have been in progress for months! I promise, I am still working on them!

My other stuff: Master List.

The wedding had been beautiful, and Riley had made a stunning bride. Of course, she was always stunning. Liam felt sure he had married the most stunning woman in the world. She was gorgeous, sexy, hilarious, witty, and brilliant. There was really nothing more he could have asked for out of an arranged, political marriage. If he suspected her of fucking the head of her security detail, well, that was a minor detail. Concessions were always to be expected when negotiating international alliances. She was handing him the alliance with Monterisso, delivering a state of the art spy network as a wedding gift, and carrying the future of Cordonia in her belly. That was his child growing inside her.

He could have ended up with a loveless, sexless marriage to a dull, humorless woman with nothing to offer but her pedigree. Sex with Riley was explosive, and if she wasn’t in love with him, well, they had mutual respect for each other, a close friendship and their political aspirations were perfectly in synch. No, he could not have asked more from an arranged marriage. She understood what was expected of a queen and she had more than lived up to his expectations, exceeded them actually, so he was willing to make some allowances to accommodate her hobbies.

He circulated through the guests at the hastily throw together reception. Only those closest to the crown had scored an invitation.      

“Congratulations, Your Majesty.”

“Lady Madeleine. How are things with you and my brother?”

“Cut the crap, Liam. I did what you asked. I’m here to collect. I was promised a high ranking position in your administration.”

“I don’t know how you got my brother, the playboy prince, to actually fall in love but you more than held up your end of the deal. Name your price.”

“I told you; I want a position in your administration.”

“What position?”

“Royal communications director.”

“Done. Come by my office in the morning, I’ll have the paperwork drawn up before we leave.” He was looking forward to the honeymoon.

“Don’t you want to hear my qualifications?”

Liam smirked at her as he tipped his champagne flute in salute, “No need. You’ve more than proven your usefulness and earned your post.”

He had no idea if Madeleine actually loved his brother. He didn’t think it mattered. It wasn’t the first time Leo had thought he was in love. Leo’s affections were fickle. It had just been good luck for him that Riley hadn’t drawn his attention.

Liam found Riley’s father at the bar when he went to refresh his drink.

“You were smart to put the king provision in the marriage contract.” Liam told his new father in law, “I appreciate a man with foresight.”

“Well, your brother isn’t known for his dedication and stability. I needed to protect my daughter.”

Protect his powerplay was more like it, but Liam didn’t say that. What he said was, “I am grateful for that provision, as it allowed her a way out.”

“Yes,” the duke agreed, “It was brilliant of her to exploit it.”

“Her? No, getting Leo to abdicate was my idea.”

“What do you mean it was your idea?”

“She shared a copy of the contract with me. I had my lawyers look it over, so she would know what was in it.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

The duke shrugged, “You know she studied at Oxford, right?”

“Yes. And?”

“She studied law. Contract law, specifically.”

“Did she?”

“Yes.”

“So, she already knew what was in that contract?”              

Liam’s new father in law guffawed as he slapped him on the back, “Son, she helped draw it up!”

The newly minted crown prince slid a thoughtful gaze over to his new wife who was busy charming his parents. He shook his head with a slight smile upon his lips. She had maneuvered him into stealing the throne out from under his own brother and made him think it was his idea. Brilliant. Further proof she’d make the perfect queen to rule beside him.

Thirty minutes and several networking encounters later, Liam sidled up to Drake and followed his eyes to Riley who was twirling on the dance floor with yet another duke, “She’s magnificent, isn’t she?”

“What?”

“My wife.”

“I guess.” Drake replied stiffly.

“She’s not just breathtakingly beautiful, she’s smart, funny and she’s fucking amazing in bed.”

Drake slid a sidelong glance at Liam, “Why are you telling me this?”

"You’re her guard, and my best friend. I’m entrusting you with her protection, but I need you to understand what that means.”

“I know how to do my job, Li.”

“Hm.” Liam hummed noncommittedly before continuing, “Any man would be lucky to have her on the basis of her physical attributes alone, much less her wit and humor. But something most people don’t seem to be aware of is just how politically valuable she is.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, the alliance with Monterisso is crucial, of course. Cordonia has the riches and Auvernall has the military might, but have you ever heard the phrase knowledge is power?”

Drake nodded.

Liam continued, “Monterisso’s tech isn’t just about drones and military hardware. It’s about spy equipment and networks, state of the art long distance listening systems and experimental cloaking devices. Knowledge is power. I trade in secrets. Riley comes with the means to control and manipulate information.”

That wasn’t the only leverage Riley came with, but Liam wasn’t ready to divulge that information yet.

“I’m aware of the political implications of your marriage, Li. I’m not sure what you’re getting at, but I will uphold the vows I took as a guard and the oath I swore to her, and to you. Your wife is safe under my watch.”

“Oh, I know she is. You’ve more than proven that.” Liam said cryptically. “We all have our secrets, Drake. Me, her….you.”

Drake turned his head at the tone he heard in Liam’s voice. “If you have something to say, say it.”

Liam slid his gaze away from Drake and back to Riley on the dance floor as he casually stated, “It’s a funny thing. Neville hasn’t been seen since the night of the gala for the French delegation.”

“So?”

“So, didn’t you leave the palace that night?”

Drake went rigid, but he gave away no other reaction, “I had the night off.”

“Indeed. An impromptu trip to your cabin no doubt. Lake Kenna is amazing this time of year.” And a perfect place to dispose of a body. He let the unspoken allegation hang in the air between them.

Drake’s jaw clenched as he regarded his oldest friend, “What are you trying to say, Liam?”

Liam shrugged, as his eyes ran across Drake’s body, “I’m saying, she can keep her….secrets, but those secrets can never interfere with her duty to the crown, or to me.”

“Understood. But I didn���t need the reminder.” Or the implied threat. He supposed it was nice to have the husband's permission, even if it came with a very thinly veiled threat about discretion and staying in his own lane.

Liam slapped his friend on the back as he walked away, “Good man.”

He found his new bride, “Enjoying the reception, love?”

“Yes, but I’m going to need to slip away soon.”

Liam took her in his arms and murmured in her ear, “Go. Change clothes before you come back. I’ll tell everyone you wanted out of this elaborate, formal gown. They’ll understand.”

There was one last thing Riley would deliver to him.

“Perfect. Thank you. I’m going to meet with my contact now.” She slipped discreetly from the room, leaving Liam to cover for her.

She entered the abandoned guard tower.

“Riley!” Relief flooded his voice, “I was worried you weren’t coming!”

“As if I’d miss an opportunity to see you!” She told him with a teasing smile.

“Your marriages have really put a crimp in our friendship. I don’t see you nearly often enough!”

She laughed, “We will always be friends, and once I’m crowned queen, I’ll find a place for you at court if you want it. But you were right about Leo. He wasn’t fit to rule.”

“You seem to have found a way around that particular glitch.”

“Well, I still need Cordonia’s coffers for my little venture.”

“So, you moved the pieces around the chess board.” He nodded, “It’s what you’re best at.”

“Liam will be a good king and he’s a far better husband than his brother was.” She replied thoughtfully.

Her companion raised an eyebrow, “Should I be jealous?”

“Maybe a little.” She told him truthfully, “I didn’t expect to enjoy him quite this much. But you know I will always love you. No one can take your place!”

“I hope not.”

“Did you bring the documentation?” She asked.

“Right here.” He held up a manilla folder stuffed with paperwork, “This is everything you’ll need to take the throne from Bradshaw and Isabella.”

She took the folder and flipped through it, “My original birth certificate, check. But it isn’t enough that the former king of Auvernall was my biological father, as you know, a bastard can’t sit the throne, I need more.”

“Keep going.” He told her.

She flipped through more documents, pulling two free, “Yes! My parent’s marriage license and their illegal annulment!” An annulment was only valid in Auvernall if the two parties in question had not consummated their marriage. She was living proof that her parents had, in fact, consummated their marriage. She held everything in her hands that was required to show that she, and not Isabella, who was two years younger than her, was the proper heir to the throne.

With her particular area of expertise, she could take the throne through legal channels, without bloodshed. But the international court battle would be expensive. It was the entire reason she had chosen the crown prince of Cordonia for her marriage alliance. Her mother only thought it had been her idea. Riley had known that she would need the Rys fortune to fund her bloodless coup of Auvernall. Leo hadn’t been up to the challenge; she’d realized that early on. She hadn’t bothered to tell him any of her secrets, setting her sights instead on the more capable brother.

Liam was different. Liam had understood instantly what it would mean for Cordonia to have the military might of Auvernall under its control. Together, they would rule the two largest, most powerful nations in the region, with the third, Monterisso, in their back pocket.

The child she was carrying was heir to not one, but two thrones.

She laughed giddily as she replaced the documents in the folder and sat them on a table so she could wrap her arms around her coconspirator, “Thank you, you’re my hero! You have never failed me!”

“And I never will.” He replied as his arms went around her.

It was the source of his greatest disappointment that he hadn’t been highborn enough to wed her. He wasn’t royalty and he wasn’t even the first born son of his house. But maybe it was for the best, he’d never been the mastermind of their schemes. He was better working in the shadows to support her ambitions. He’d always been happy to be her sidekick, her backup, the Goose to her Maverick. It had been that way since they were children, when he’d spent summers in Monterisso with his mother’s family. That’s where he had first laid eyes on her at the age of six, and he’d been in love with her ever since.

Recruited by her brother, he’d become part of an international spy network, positioning him perfectly to assist her with her now grown up endeavors. No one in his home country had any clue that his party boy antics were just cover for his very real career in espionage.

He pulled her closer as he whispered, “I love you, Riley. I always have and I always will.”

“I love you too, Max.” She melted into his embrace, “Now get me out of this dress, if we hurry, we can have a proper reunion before I’m missed.”

She was showered, changed and back at her wedding reception within the hour, dodging Drake’s questions about where she had been and delivering the news to her husband that all their plans were coming to fruition.

~Fin

[linksthoughtbrambles]

Deficit

Part 11 of Adventure Log+ (Sequel to Link’s Thought Brambles. I highly recommend reading in order!). (Edited 9/30/23 to tighten language). WARNING: This chapter is rated mature for horror/violence.

“Link!”

“Yes?!”

“I see hands!  North by northwest!”

Where where where where where her eyes are better where the where WHERE holy crap Link what would you do if she wasn’t with you?!  My goddess… Hylia preserve… can the horses even tell if they’re there?  Or will one of them reach for Rionee’s legs in the dark and break them with the momentum behind her motion?

“Zelda, WHERE?!”

“Far off!  Just there—near those bushes!”

Bushes.  Link… come on, come ON, eyes, where where where where wh-

THERE.  “Got them!”  No wonder I didn’t see among all those outlines.  Without Zelda I might’ve stumbled right into them myself, never mind the horses.  “We attack!”  GO, Rionee!

“Link?!  What are you doing?!”

“Taking point!”   I am NOT letting her get bitten again.  Don’t let them touch her, Link.  You can-  “Hey!”

“ON, Tass!”

“Princess!”

“Don’t you princess me!”

“LET ME TAKE POINT!”

“We’re both injured, Link!”

“Yeah, and I’m the one with a magic sword and spooky speed in close combat!”

Oh yes, oh yes, logic, logic-

“L… ooh.  Link, I shall be RIGHT behind you!”

…WOW, I won?!

…She wasn’t thinking with her head, was she?  Trying to pull ahead like that?  She just…

She must want to protect me. That does all sorts of things to me. Have to be practical, though. “Dismount far off, Zelda!”

“I just SAID I’d-“

“And you will!  But I don’t want Tass in Rionee’s way when she veers off!”

“What’s your plan?!”

“I’d tell you if I wasn’t worried these things were more than brainless animals!”

“Horrifying thought!  We ought to find out!”

“Not tonight!”

“Indeed, not!”

Good- Tass slowing.  Time to GO, GO, girl.  GO!

“Good girl, Rionee.  Shhhh…’

You can do this, girl.  Shhh.  I know.  You smell them on the wind, don’t you?  I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.  We have to do this and do it fast.  Shhh, listen, listen to my voice, girl.  Good girl.  Good Rionee.  You know this one.  You do.  You feel my feet?  I’m going to jump.  I’ll fly forward, and it’ll be scary for a second but then you’ll veer left.  You’ll veer, girl, won’t you?  Of course, you will.  You’re the smartest horse I know.  You can do this.

Shhhh, shh.  I know you’re scared.  I’m sorry.

Closer.  Closer.  I see them now.  Hunting hidden, rotten things by starlight.  It’s straight out of someone’s nightmares.  Glad they’re not mine.

One.  Two.  Three.  Four.  Five, six.  Seven.

… There are at least two of them.

At least, there are if these have six like the others did…

Nine.  Ten, eleven. …The twelfth must be behind that bush.  Closer.  Closer.

Closer.

If you’re wrong, Link, if there’s one you don’t see, you’ll kill Rionee.

You’ll kill her.

Careful.

…Zelda, quick.  “ZELDAAA?!  ELEVEN?!?!”

“THIRTEEN!”

S@#$ S@#$ S@#$ WHERE?!

“ON YOUR RIGHT, LINK!”

F@#$, she must be able to make some out even behind the brush.  How is she doing that?!  It’s so dark!! We started so far, too…

Damn.  Damn.  At least three, then.

The same plan should work.  Just aim Rionee left and closer closer closer feet up Link near balance near on toes near grip ready nearnearnearNOW

FLYING ROLL IN THE AIR THEY’LL TRY TO GRAB BUT MISS AND YES SLICETHEYSLICEMISSEDSLICEMESLICE SLICE

AH!

Five down and soon SLICESIX COMEON COMEON COME UP WHERE ARE YOU WHERE

Six hands, Link, but maybe not from the same body MORE

THERESLICE- SEVEN!

Zelda running I hearSLICEEIGHT if I SLICENINE kill SLICETEN them SLICEELEVEN fast SLICETWELVE she’s THERE’STHIRTEEN SLICE safe!

Thirteen thirteen that’s thirteen where are the centers where are the other handsOHSTUCK

INTHEBUSHESLINK YOUF@#$ING DINGKEESE NONONONOLETGOLETGO PINNEDNONO ARMARM ITSHAND’SSOBIG AROUNDME MYARM FFFFFFFFFFFSO STRONG!

“AAAAAAH!”

“ZELDA NO-“

Oh!

Never mind Link she’s smart don’t be an ass, she’s cutting the bushes, of course, and SPINNING TOWARD ME WITH THAT SWORD WITH SO MUCH MOMENTUM OH F@#$ PLEASE DON’T HIT ME

CUT- AH! “THE HEAD, ZELDA!”

“RRRRAAAAAAH!”

Her battle cries will live in my soul FOREVER now GET THIS FRICKING HAND OFF YOU, LINK, IT’S SEVERED YOU’D THINK IT WOULD LET GO SHE’S OKAY SHE’S OKAY SHE HAS IT SHE’S WAILING ON IT SHE’S OKAY GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GETTHEF@#$OFF WHY IS IT STILL SO TIGHT?!?!?!  “NGGGGGGGGGGGGGHH!”

“LINK?!”

“DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME, KILL-“

“BEHIND YOU!”

“SH!” LEAP NEVER MIND WHERE!

I heard it hit the dirt behind me whatever it was and A ROCK A ROCK BASH BASH BASH BASH BASH GET OFF ME BASH BASH BASH YES!

SHE HAS THAT HEAD THEY’RE SLOW THEY’RE SLOW, CUT THAT HAND, LINK!

Fourteen.

At least four… four more… where…. Stay away from the- No.  CUT the bushes.  Circle them fast.

Cut cut cut cut cut cut cutAH! Missed me SLICE- and that one’s clenching, too, it’s different—

Fifteen.

“DONE!”

“BUSHES, ZELDA!”

“YES- AH!”

WH- ohhh she’s- okay… she got through that arm, harder with her sword!

Sixteen.

Keep cutting, Link, HAND SLICE- seventeen… the field’ll be less pretty in the morning butFACE. Guess number seventeen was your hand, huh?

Go ahead.  Try and biteOH nopeSTRIKESTRIKESTRIKESTRIKESTRIKESTRIKE

And you’re down.

Yes?

Yes you are.

One more.  “Do you see it?!”

“I do not.”

“Bushes!”  Not here not here not here not here no not here either where the hell is it one more one more one more one more

“AAaaAH!”

”ZELDA!” WHAT?WHAT? WHEREDIDTHESECOMEFROM NONONONONOLETHERGO! SLICE SLICE DODGE THE HEAD’S UP TO BITE HER “NO!” THENECKTHENECKTHENECK YESTHROUGHITSLIDESLIDE YOUCANDOITLINK CUT ITS HEAD OFF “RRRRKH-GHAAA!” YES “HH” YES “HH” YES “HH” YES- “hh” yes?

“Killing the head appears to render the remaining hands still.”

She says with hardly a tremor!  I know her eyes are on me now.  Wish I could see them better.  …Resist, Link.  Resist.  You can look deep into her eyes later.  There may be more hands.  And… “Looks… like the hands grow back, or…”

“Indeed.  Or… there may simply be more of them beneath the earth… waiting to emerge, when needed.”

“It took… what?  How long were we looking for the eighteenth before the others showed up?

“I’m not sure.  Not… not long at all.  Thirty seconds?  I … shall endeavor to pay closer attention next time.”

“Next time, Zelda…. We take them out as fast as possible.”

“Heh.  As though we weren’t trying this time.”

Ohhh, no, don’t put that hand on my arm, I’ll totally lean into it and there I go…

I’m… sensing a smile on her face.

“A brief investigation of the area, I think.”

“…Yeah.  Bushes.”

“Indeed, but—“

…She’s checking the ground?

“…Link… feel the earth.  Just here.”

Alright.

.

“It’s… just grass.  Dirt.”

“Link, these things were moving here.  Why is nothing disturbed?  It ought to have occurred to me before.”

.

Oh.

OH.

“What the HELL?”

“Indeed.  I… have no explanation for this.  Link, when the main body emerges, oughtn’t it leave a gaping hole in the earth?”

“Wow…. Wooow….. they move, too—the bodies—but there’s no trench.  There’s nothing!”

“This must be some manner of magical effect.”

“Didn’t Fi say… she did.  Fi said I had to rip it apart to break the spell.  Oh, Fi?!”

Cue Zelda getting the slate out.  Trying to shield its glow with her hair…

I’ll help.  Huddle-time.

.

She didn’t answer me.

“Fi.”

I must assume you wish me to pause, master.

“Yes, please.  Do you know-“

I am aware of your conversation, master.  In previous encounters with Dead Hands, they also left ground undisturbed by their passage.  I admit I was unaware they were capable of moving here at the surface.  I’d categorized them as spider-like, waiting for prey to wander into their limited range deep in the darkest places in the earth.  A… previous hero acquired a lens which allowed him to detect them beneath the ground.

“You can’t detect them?  I thought you could sense magic.”

There are limits to my abilities, master.  To me, these creatures are as invisible as they are to you until they emerge above ground.

“Do you know why?”

Not with certainty.  I estimate an 84% probability of repression fields so perfect as to be undetectable even to me.

“Like the Yiga weapons?”

But at a masterful level.  Yes.

“I should’ve asked you this before, and I bet the answer’s no, but… can you do the ‘dowsing’ thing to spot them far off?”

Perhaps I could if I could detect them, master.  I cannot. In most cases, I cannot detect types of creatures regardless.

“What about the hands, Fi?  I can spot them at distance, and I am limited by my Hylian eyesight. Can you see them earlier?”

I have no eyesight, Princess.

Woah.  “What?  I thought- I thought you could-“

I cannot see, Master.  I can detect vibrations… the presence and magnitude of light striking the sword’s surface… but I do not have the benefit of lensed ocular sensory organs.

She makes it sound disgusting.  “How does the dowsing work, then?”

The detection method is magical and entirely different from sight, master.  I can sense direction, yes, but not shape as your eyes would.  Your eyes, in fact, are the only ones I have.

“Wait, what?!”

I see what you see.

“…Why?”

Because you see it.  Just as I feel what you feel.  I see what you see, hear what you hear.

“… And taste, and smell?”

Everything you experience, master.  Yes.

“This hero thing keeps getting weirder.”

“…Thank you, Fi.”

A pleasure to serve, Princess.  May I resume my calculations?

“Link?”

“Yeah—of course.  Thanks.”

Slate away.

Better give my eyes a second.  The screen’s so bright compared to everything else.

“In a moment, let’s move together through the brush—try to ensure nothing else lurks here.”

“Yes, Princess.”

“Eh-hehhh.  Link… you need not speak to me so.  No one else is here.”

“Habit.  You gave me an order.  Heheh.”

“It was merely a suggestion!”

“Kmph.”

“What?!”

“So what would you do if I said no?”

“I would attempt to persuade you otherwise.”

“You’re so reasonable.”

“I endeavor to be.”

“You didn’t used to be.”

“…No.  No, indeed.  I wasn’t.  I’m sorry.”

“W-wait, Zelda, I’m sorry, that wasn’t meant—I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad-“

“Of course not, Link—yet it’s true.  I was most unreasonable when you first entered my service.  I apologize.”

Oh no, oh no if you kiss me even a little I’ll-

Too late.

So soft.

Still can’t see her eye color.

“I’d like to make it up to you.”

“Ohhh, you already have.”

“Not enough.”

“Heh... Well, I’m sure not going to stop you.”

“Good.  Let’s go.”

-----

You’re done, monster.  That’s.  IT!

…Melt into the ground… like all the others… and may all your Goddess-damned hands go down with you…

What… do their remains do to the earth when they sink into it?

Goddess knows…

Seven down.

------

 “Do you see any more?!”

“No, Link.”

Eleven down.  “How’s the hilt wrap holding up?”

“It’s secure.  It’s fortunate Reeb and Laysha had the leather.”

“Even so… you’ll probably have blisters.  I’m sorry, Zelda—you shouldn’t-“

“This is where I’m meant to be, Link.”

“Nooo, it isn’t.”

“I am fighting for my people.”

“In close combat without training.”

“It’s clear I don’t have the practiced ease you do with the longsword, but it’s manageable.”

“You’ve taken out your fair share for sure, but it’s still dangerous.”

“Indeed.”

She’s smiling at me, isn’t she?  It’s in her voice.

“We shall overcome it together.”

-----

“RRRGH- ugh.”  Disgusting.  These things, just… it’s like cutting into a rotting ham.  The body doesn’t even have any bones.  What lets these things move around?

Disintegrating.

Thirteen down.

“I feel rather as though I would prefer some other weapon.”

“A bow?”

“Well, yes, but—for close combat, I think something shorter than this.  And perhaps… one in each hand.”

One weapon in each hand? That's not common. You see it sometimes in stories. “When we get back… we’ll try you on everything—let you find what you’re looking for.”

“I hope it exists, and not that I am merely delusional.”

“Hhhh.  I doubt itOHHH- that you’re delusional, I mean!  Sorry-“

“I understand.  Please don’t fret.”

Ohhhhh her hand on my face is mesmerizing even with how filthy it is.  I’d be neglecting it if I didn’t give it the nuzzle and kiss it deserves.

“Hmhmm.”

Her hair… a dark sail against the stars.  Still beautiful, the way it moves.  “Any new wounds?”  Wrist.  Kiss that, too.

“Hhh-hh.  No.  You?”

“No.  They’re not too difficult to deal with if you know how.”

“And… if one is strong and quick as we are.”

“Yeah.”  The one that pinned my sword-arm to my side… even my strength couldn’t release me from it.  Without Zelda, that one would’ve bitten me for sure. I… have to be more careful.  If I can’t break free, anyone else is utterly screwed.

Including Zelda.  “…We should go.  I do NOT want them to reach that farmhouse with nine kids in it.”

Nine… kids…

No, no Link.  You’ll make it.  They won’t be like… Marc.  And Challa.

You won’t.  You won’t have to kill nine kids.

You won’t.

.

.

If they-

If they ARE-

I

I am not letting her do it.

I’ll do it.

She seems okay now, but I know how she is.

She takes her time thinking about things.

It bothered her that it 'didn't bother' her to kill Carok guy.  It means she was thinking about it.  Spending her energy… picking her own decisions and feelings apart.

I won’t let her kill nine kids.

Can I handle it?

Who knows.

But if it comes down to it, I’ll… I’ll do it-

“Link?”

Crap, Link, wake up!  “Sorry.” One more kiss for that hand.  “Let’s go.”

“…Yes.  Hph-hh.  Tass!”

“Rionee!”

Here- good girl… these two are so smart.  They know what to stay away from.  It’s just so dark tonight…  “There… you still okay?”

That’s not the happiest sound she’s ever made.  Better check that haunch…  Where… no… there it is.  It doesn’t feel hot or swollen.  Good.  No upset-noises at me while I poke it, either.  Double-good.

She’s okay for now.  Up I go.  “You good, Zelda?”

“Ready.  Tass is unharmed.”

“Good.  Go, girl!”

That air feels so good on my face.   I don’t even want to know what I look like.  Spattered with… whatever those things spout when we cut them.

Eyes out, Link.  Scan, scan, scan, scour to the horizon’s edge everywhere you can, anything sticking up, anything at all, keep watch, one good grip on any of Rionee’s legs and she’s down for good.  There’s no coming back from that out here.

For a horse, there’s no coming back from that anywhere unless it’s the mildest fracture ever.

There’s never been something like this.  Something where there’s a good chance of losing Rionee.  I’d have turned away from it until now.  I never put her at real risk if I could help it.

CAN’T help it.  Not this time.  If this was their plan… whoever they are… it’s working.  It’s us.  Alone.  Out here, at speed, vulnerable in the dark.  Zelda’s horse is the most visible thing for miles with his white coat, and even he looks close to black.  We’re putting all our trust in the horses’ instincts.

I hope Reeb and Laysha’s horses are as smart as ours…  “Zelda!”

“Yes!”

“How fast do you think these hand things move?”

“Hooves, too loud!”

“How fast do you think these hand things move?!”

“I’ve little sense for it!  We come upon them so quickly!  We’d need to watch them closely while hidden, while still!  As we approach I see little but the speed of our own horses!”

“Same here!”  Even she can’t tell with that eyesight of hers.  Her sense of timing.  We get through this, we should test it.

Well, look at me.  Scientist-Link.

“It does at least seem unlikely these creatures had passed Reeb and Laysha’s home!”

“It does!“  They’d’ve been better off making camp on a roof if we thought otherwise.

“…It was the right thing to do, Link!”

“I know!  I know… I just- can’t help but think…” we might’ve sent them to their deaths.

And that poor dog could die alone in their barn.

Priorities, Link…

“They wished to aid us!”

“I know!”  Don’t feel bad, don’t feel bad… How else could we tell anyone else what’s happening?

What’ll it be like in Castle Town if we disappear into the darkness out here along with all the inhabitants of Irch farmland?

Total panic?

…It’ll take them all night, minimum… unrealistically insane minimum.  To warn the farmers to the east… then loop around to the logging village.  That’s if they can convince their neighbors to use a fresh horse to do that.  Laysha and Reeb really ought to be the ones to go.  They saw the creatures and us first-hand…

The slate would prove it’s true but no way by all the expanses of sky above us can we allow that.  We’d have to go ourselves, and it’s just not okay to do that. Because there’s no one… NO one… more capable of taking these things out than us.

Than me, really, since arrows aren’t effective.  Damn shame, that.  She’d have to hit one of those arms five or six times in the same spot to sever it completely.

Intentional?

Probably.

Right?  “Zelda!”

“Yes?!”

“Do you think they meant for arrows not to work well?!”

“I suspect so!”

There you go, Link.

We’re in a trap and riding deeper into it every second.  We can’t turn around because we’re not total dicks.  We’re… not dicks at all.  You established, didn’t you, Link, that even Mipha’s more of a dick than you are?  “Ha!”

“Link?!”

“Sorry!”

“What is it?”

Do I tell her?

.

She won't be mad at me, will she? “…Saving foxes?!”

“People aren’t foxes, Link!”

“That’s not what everyone said about Ria!”

“There’s a difference!”

Is there?  “What difference?!”

“You’re not currently at death’s door, Link!  It’s not a one-to-one trade!”

“But it’s a trap!”

“Certainly!”

“…Do you think the hands are the trap?!”

“I doubt that’s the last of it!”

“…Same!”

-----

SLICE- AUGH!  So disgusting…

Fourteen.

-----

CarefulZELDAZELDA- YES!  “You are AWESOME.  I hope you know that.”

“Someone keeps reminding me!”

“Heh-hh.”

Fifteen.

None have managed to bite us since that first one, but I know I’m bruised to s$#@.  She must be, too.

-----

F@#$- “STAY THE F@#$ AWAY FROM MY HORSE, YOU ROT-PILE!”  OH- YOU MISSED ME. YOUR MISTAKE- STRIKESTRIKESTRIKESTRIKESTRIKE

DONE?

DONE??!

Dammit, notHAND SLICE- ANOTHER- ZELDA! ”BEHIND Y- YES!  LAST HAND!” Cut this thing to ribbons, Link, cut it cut it CUT IT CUT CUT CUT

… You’re done, now, monster. Done…

Zelda. “You’re… hh… getting better at this fast.”

“Hmm, so I was already, ah- awesome-“

“Kmph.” How can her smile sparkle when I can’t even see it?

“-but I’m improving?”

“Hph.  Yeah.”

“Are you certain?”

“It’s pure truth.”

“You couldn’t possibly be biased?”

“We’re fighting magically animated rotting meat monsters or whatever in near-darkness and you’re holding your own.  If I’m biased, it’s not much.”

“Hhh.  I see.”

…That… sounded different- “Are you okay?”

…That’s too long, she’s not, she’s not okay- “Zelda-“ Cup her face, Link.  Can’t tell-

“Link, I…“

She’s not crying… “I dragged you out here.  I shouldn’t-“

“You did no such thing.”

“I told you I recommended-“

“And I agreed with you.  I cannot leave these people to die.”

“I’m your knight, Zelda.  You say the word, and we’ll turn around.”

“That word shall most certainly not be said.”

…Hey, self?  You could’ve talked to the slate while she was still south of you.  You could’ve told her specifically to send Beraya or Margil.  You didn’t.  She could’ve stayed with Chee, headed to the lab.

But no, I didn’t do that at all.  I just said I recommended we check the farms.

“I can hear your mind making its predictable spiral into self-recrimination even without the slate, you know”

“Hphh.  I am pretty predictable.”

“Indeed.  Your mother agrees with me.”

“So would my father, if he were here.”

“Well, before your thoughts continue their course, please don’t misunderstand me, Link.  It’s not the monsters themselves which disturb me so, unnatural as they may be.”

“…What is it, then?”

“Rather as dealing with our would-be assassin, Link… this is… a practical matter.”

Ohhh no.  No, don’t do it, this is what I was worried about when she thinks-

“I find myself in a great deficit of shock.”

“…You’re not surprised.  That’s okay-”

“Surprised, certainly, I am that.  I’d never have expected such things to infest this idyllic plain.  I am NOT, however, shocked.  I do not feel this horror, this dread, at their very existence.  They are… as pests to be dealt with, and I shall deal with them.  It seems… uncanny. But- listen to me, wasting precious time.  TASS!”

“…Here, Rionee!  …Zelda, you WERE… SO shocked… so upset, by the child we found-“

“That’s different. That’s one of our people, dead.  A child, dead.  I feel for that child, Link, and I would avenge him.  Yet the monsters themselves—they hold little horror for me.  Do you not find this odd for one such as I, who has spent a lifetime comfortable and sheltered, shielded even from the least threatening of creatures to roam our land?”

“…Not really, no?”

“Truly?  Why?”

“Because… I was the same way.”

“I thought these creatures disturbed you far more than I.”

“The ReDeads… those, yes.  Those…”

“Good boy, Tass.  Let’s check…”

“They’re… th- Goddess.  Goddess, Zelda they’re people.  They’ve… Goddess, Zelda.  They’ve turned me into a murderer.”  No, Link.  No.  No.  Shaking?  Bad time for it.

Rionee.  “Good girl.”

“No they haven’t, Link.  They haven’t.  Those... were no longer people. We oughtn’t- ah-uh-"

"Zelda?!"

"One apparently feels a jammed knee keenly when mounting.”

“Jammed, are you okay?!”

“I’m well enough.  Link?”

“...Okay. Just checking Rionee.”  Very briefly.  And… up.  “Shhh.  There, there, good girl.” On. Let's go.

.

.

“You’re not a murderer, Link.”

.

.

Almost to that farm, I think.  Nineteen Dead Hands so far.  Right?  I don’t think I lost count… “Nineteen, Zelda?”

“…Yes...”

So far.

-----

Twenty-two.

-----

Twenty-four.

----

House.

Please.

Please?

It’s been a while since we saw one of those things…

It’s so late.  It’s unlikely there’d be light, at least not much, at this hour.  They’ll all be asleep… some embers in a fireplace, maybe, and that’s about it.

I don’t see any ‘baby trees.’

Hell.  How do we even approach them?  We’ll scare them half to death in their beds.  “It looks peaceful!”

“Agreed!”

“Do we shout?!”

“…I think so, but not quite yet!”

Not yet, no.  They could probably hear the galloping at this point if they’re awake, but shouting now at best would be hard to make out.

How long has it been?  How much of the night has passed?

The lovers’ constellation would’ve been on the eastern horizon at sunset.  Right?  Right?  Why don’t you pay more attention to these things, Link?  You don’t have to be an astronomer.  Just look up at night more than once or twice a month.

It used to help.  At least a little.  When hunting those f@#$ing bastards who killed-

No.  No, don’t think about that either, Link.  You have enough bad things to not think about.

She can check the slate next time we dismount.  Check its clock.  That works.

I don’t feel tired.  Hunting.  It keeps me focused.

“HELLO!”

She can really project.

“HELLO!  WE BRING NEWS!  HELLO!  WE BRING NEWS!”

.

Come on.  Come on, please.  Anyone?

.

Come on.  Make the sweat and this… fluid-grime… worth it. Come on.

.

.

“WE BRING NEWS!  WE BRING NEWS!  HELLO!”

.

.

.

“NEWS!  WE BRING NEWS!”

.

.

Oh no.

No, come on.  Please.

“HELLO!”

Please.

“WE BRING NEWS!  WE-“

YES!

“HOOOOY!”

“HELLO!!”

“HEEEY!” Guy’s in his jammies which is frankly the best possible sign-

“TAKE IT EASY THERE!  WHO ARE YOU?!  WHAT NEWS?!”

”A MOMENT!  WE’LL DISMOUNT!”

…He’s holding something.  An axe for splitting wood, maybe.

Just… just be careful, Link.  Your presence here is strange to say the least.  They have a right to be cautious.

Big house. Looks like it’s been built in patches.  Probably every time a couple more kids showed up.

“ALRIIIIGHT!  FAR ENOUGH, OFF NOW, OFF!”

“Woah, girl-“ “Easy, Tass.  Good boy.”

“Yes.  Yes, that’s it, boy.  You must be tired.”

Bet he’s frothing.   Bet they both are.

Ground.  So much riding.

Approach first, Link… hands up.  “Sorry to give you a scare.  Are you Cawlin, or-“

“I’m Gorsdadd.  HEY CAWL!”

“WHAT?”

“IT’S JUST TWO!  Sorry, but it’s strange you out here like this.  I know how to use an axe, so don’t get any closer.”

Yeaaaah.  And here’s Cawlin with a bright oil lamp.

And wow, both their eyes just got real wide.  We must look like some absolute s@#$.

“What in blazes is all over you two?  Mud?”

“It’s bloody green, what did you roll around in?!”

“It’s monster blood.  Or… whatever you call what’s been coming out of them.”

Zelda’s grabbing the sla- “Oh!” My GODDESS it’s worse than I thought!

“W-what is it, Li- oh.  Ohh.”

Yeah.  I must… look as bad as she does.  Worse, actually.  We’re covered in spatter.  It’s staining her hair.

Can you-?

Yeah… you can kind of see the designs on our tunics.  It’s not a pretty sight.

Hylia.

Hylia, her wound.

MY wound.

We’ll have to change everything again.  We can’t… just leave that crap to inch its way through bandages.  Reeb’s clearly good at patching things up but once a bandage is dirty it’s useless, no matter how well-dressed the wound is.

“S@#$.  You- come.  Come inside.  You- holy-“

“I’m afraid we can’t stay long.”

I’m glad she’s recovered enough-

“We’re on an errand of mercy.”

-to speak at least…

“We’ve been to two of your neighbors’ homes and hunted creatures between them.  We’re pleased—so pleased—to see you alive and well, and unconcerned, for the things roaming this plain in the dark tonight are deadly.  They’ve taken the lives of Marc and Challa, and their family.”

“What?!”

“M… Cha… the kids, too?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I…”

...And now that axe is loose in his hand.  He believes us.

“I bring… I’m sorry, but I do feel it’s necessary to show you proof of what we’ve seen.  Please… this is a Sheikah Slate.  This image… is what became of… Marc.”

.

.

.

They can’t even close their mouths.

Can’t say I blame them.

Don’t.

Don’t picture it, Link.

There’s no silver lining in that.  Just regret.

Don’t.

Don’t.

Come on, Link.

You can put it out of mind.  Like when they killed-

Nope.

“G-Goddess. Hylia.  They… all like this?  Even Rin?”

…They mean the kid, don’t they.

Zelda?

Oh-

“All of them, yes.”

A shiny streak.  “Hey.”

Her eyes in the oil light.  They still end up looking almost black.

“Ah- ah, miss.  Wh- what can we do for you?”

“Nothing, indeed, I thank you.  We’re here to warn you of this.  Creatures attacked Reeb and Laysha’s home as well- ah- they’re safe.  They’ve ridden east first with a warning, and also intend to warn the loggers near shore.”

“Bloody- that’s not an easy ride this time of night.  Sometimes you get bokos skulking outta those hills.”

“Indeed.  They’d said as much.  But- as you see- whatever is happening is extremely dangerous.  We recommend evacuation.  Temporarily, at least.”

Here we go.  This is going to take a few minutes of talking at least.  Better… better clean my hands-

“Hey!”

“Sorry!  Just-“

“Yeah, I see the alky you pulled out.  Don’t bother.  We have plenty and we’re not dealing with… the horrors you’re obviously meeting.  We’ll help.  Keep your own supplies.  You need clean clothes?”

“No.  Just- eh.  She has a bandage.”

“Yeah, let’s see to that, too.”

“I thank you, sirs.”

“Nah, no sirs here.  But you’re welcome, anyway.”

We’re lucky, really, to have decent people in our path.

“OY, RANA!!!”

It helps a lot.

“HALLEN!! EVERYONE UP!”

Link?  When you… eventually… hopefully… get back to the castle?  You’re going into castle town and buying an absolute cartload of supplies and you’re stuffing this pouch full of them.

I’m an idiot for not doing it sooner.  I have a good amount, but clearly a good amount isn’t enough.  I need to be ready for surprise splinter-trips that might last many days and involve getting sprayed with monster guts a dozen times or more in a night.

“Link.  Come.  We ought to be finished and gone as quickly as possible, on to the next farm.”

“Yeah.” The next one.

That map.  We raced here first because of the kids, and with how many Dead Hands we killed, it was absolutely the right move.  They would have already passed the one further west.

We’re going to find death there, aren’t we?

Probably.

Her hand in mine.

“There is hope, Link.”

“The faster we are, the more there is.”

“Yes.”

“Alright, Hallen’s boiling water, we’ll get those wounds cleaned.  You gotta clean those torsos, too.  We’ll give you privacy.”

“We must be quick-“

“It won’t take long.  You’ll thank us when you don’t get gangrene.  Awww- hell, miss, that hair.  HALLEN!”

“YEAAAH?!”

“THERE’S LONG HAIR INVOLVED!”

“MOOORE WATER, THEN.”

“I… suppose I ought to put it out of the way after this.”

Should’ve braided it like Beraya.

Actually, that’s not good enough for this.  It can still swing and spread stuff to her shoulder.

Nope.  We’re going to put it all up on her head, somehow. Finally, all the times I did my sister’s hair’ll pay off.  Other than it being nice at the time.

Speed, Link.  Speed-braid and speed-twist and speed-pin.  You got this.

Oh.

If… there are pins.  Hair-ties, those I have.

I’ll ask.

Will it be weird?

Nnnnno, it won’t.  Because it’s obvious why she needs them.

Heck, I can use twigs off the ground if I have to.

“Link?”

“You first, Princess.  I’ll keep watch.  Just in case.  Oh- thanks-“ alcohol for hands, definitely a good idea in the meantime-

“Wait, PRINCESS?!”

Ah.  Here we go again…

-----

Read Next: [Fi's] higest-probability extrapolation.

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[waywardnerd67]

ALBC Chap 6 - We Got Tonight Who Needs Tomorrow

Title: A Little Bit Country, A Little Bit Rock & Roll Summary: Halfway through their summer tour, (Y/N) and Dean take their relationship to the next level with the help of a bottle of whiskey. Main Characters: Dean Winchester, Reader Other Characters: Sam Winchester, Cas Novak, Eileen Leahy Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Rating: M - Mature Warnings: Fluff/Implied Smut/Slight Angst Word Count: 2461 A/N: Tequila Dan & Shay / What She Wants Tonight Luke Bryan / Coming In Hot Diamante

Check Out: A Little Bit Country, A Little Bit Rock & Roll Masterlist

Dean could not imagine life being any more perfect than it was at this moment. (Y/N) was curled against him with her arm draped over his waist. The morning sun was shining in through the small bus window and the constant hum of the motor was lulling him back asleep until his phone began to buzz.

I know it's early but can I call you?

“Shit.” He whispered before typing a reply.

It’s okay, I’m awake. You can call me

He pushed himself to sit up as (Y/N) turned away from him. He ran his hand down her bare back as his phone began buzzing.

“Hey Ben, everything okay?”

There was silence on the other end for several seconds before he spoke, “Hey… dad? Do I call you dad?”

Dean’s heart began thumping rapidly hearing Ben call him that. It surprised him how much he liked hearing someone call him that.

“If you feel more comfortable calling me Dean then we’ll go with that. I’m glad your mom finally told you about me and that we can start getting to know each other.”

“For… For now, I think I’ll call you Dean. It feels weird to call you dad. Though as far as dads go, you’re pretty cool. My friends are going to crap their pants when I tell them who you’re touring with.” Ben chuckled.

(Y/N) stirred next to him as she stretched her arms above her head. The sheet drifted down her body distracting him for a moment.

“Dean?” Ben’s voice brought him back to the conversation at hand.

“Yeah buddy, what did you say?”

“It’s okay if I tell my friends, right? I mean… if you don’t want me…” His voice faded off.

Dean smiled, “Of course, you can tell your friends about me. If they don’t believe you then call me and I’ll set them straight.”

A soft giggle came from (Y/N) as she propped herself up on her elbow. She held the sheet up to her chest to make sure she was covered and not distracting him.

“Thanks Dean. I have to go now, but maybe we could talk again later in the week?”

He smiled, “Absolutely. Just texted me before you call. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Dean had barely set his phone down before (Y/N) was straddling his lap, “Kid is right, you are pretty cool for a dad and hot.”

Her lips came down to his letting the sheet fall from her grasp. The kiss led to a morning of love making and a nap before heading into rehearsals and soundchecks.

Tonight’s show was important for Sam as they debuted the song he had been working hard on since the beginning of the tour. They rehearsed it three times before Sam felt confident to move on with the rest of their soundcheck. As they were getting ready to start the second half of their set, Dean noticed (Y/N) and Eileen coming to the side stage to watch them.

“How we doing tonight?” Dean asked, swinging his guitar onto his back.

The crowd erupted into applause and cheers. Sweat rolled down the side of his face as the sun began to set. Dean stepped up onto the stage platform yelling out.

“I said, how we doing tonight!” The roar from the crowd shook the ground beneath them, “That’s more like it. This next song goes out to all the beautiful ladies in the crowd.”

Cowboy hats and beers were held up into the air as he continued, “That’s right, I see all you beautiful ladies who are confident and know what they want. On behalf of men everywhere, thank you for choosing some of us as what you want. This is ‘What She Wants Tonight’”

He jumped off the platform as Sam started playing the first notes of the song. Dean stepped up to his microphone looking over to (Y/N).

“She walks up, velvet rope unhooks She snaps her fingers and a drink comes She locks you down with just one look She's got this whole club undone

If she's on the rebound, you ain't gonna know it Coming off a heartbreak, she ain't gonna show it She's eyes caught, red dot, locked on me, yeah”

He looked out over the crowd thrusting his hand out towards as he sang the chorus.

“She wants my hands on her body She wants to burn like she's made of fire”

The pyro flared behind them as he continued to sing.

“Said, she ain't going home till we Drink every drop of Kentucky dry Don't even know what she'll do when she does it Palm of her hand, I'm hers in the blink of an eye She don't take no and I love She gets what she wants And I get to be what she wants tonight And I get to be what she wants tonight”

He grabbed the mic from the stand, walking over to the other side of the stage singing the next verse. As he walked back over to center stage, he noticed Eileen was by herself. When he began to sing the chorus, he felt a back press against his and smiled.

“She wants my hands on her body”

Dean ran his hand down the side of her body. Adrenaline pumping through his veins pushed the panic of being in public with (Y/N) back down into the pit of his stomach. In that moment, the words he sang were never more true. He was hers and he wanted no other way.

“She wants to burn like she's made of fire Said she ain't going home till we Drink every drop of Kentucky dry Don't even know what she'll do when she does it Palm of her hand, I'm hers in the blink of an eye”

(Y/N) stepped to his side playing it up for the cheering crowd. Her hands ran down his body as he tried to focus on playing his guitar.

“She don't take no and I love She gets what she wants And I get to be what she wants tonight And I get to be what she wants tonight”

The song broke into the bridge and Dean took his guitar off tossing it to one of the crew members. He stepped up onto the platform and pulled (Y/N) up with him.

“And I don't know how I got to be the only thing she needs right now”

He pulled her to him, crashing his lips to hers. In a single moment, the world around them stopped. He was telling the whole world that he was hers and vice versa. Pulling away from her, Dean saw the bewildered look in her eyes then a beautiful grin spreading across her face. Mirroring her smile, he began to sing the chorus one last time to her. When the song ended, Dean pulled his mic down as the stage went black and he leaned in saying three words that terrified him.

“I love you.”

He barely heard the gasp escaping her lips as the crowd went wild. The crew was pulling them down to set up for Sam’s song and Dean quickly kissed her on the cheek before running back to the piano waiting for him.

Instead of Cas’s drumset, there sat a beautiful piano. Cas was down on stage next to Sam with a box to drum on. Dean looked down to his little brother who was sitting on a stool with his acoustic guitar. He could see him nervously running his hand over his hair and fiddling with strings of his guitar. Movement from the other side of the stage caught his eye as Eileen stepped as close as she could without coming up on stage to watch Sam’s performance. When Sam saw her standing there, his whole body relaxed.

The spotlight came up on Sam, “We’re going to bring it down a little for this next song. I’ve been working on it for a while with the help of my friends and some encouragement from someone very special to me.”

He glanced off to the side where Eileen was and it seemed both Winchesters were making silent declarations to the ladies in their lives.

“For those who don’t know, before being in Wayward Sons I went to Stanford. I met the woman who I thought I would spend forever with. Life seemed to have different plans when she passed in a tragic accident. So many years later, I am breaching the surface of dealing with my grief and one way was by writing this song.” He began to strum the first few notes on his guitar, “This is Tequila.”

As Sam sang the first verse, (Y/N) snuck up onto the platform where his piano was and sat beside him. Her eyes focused on his fingers dancing along the ivory keys. A small smile spread wider on her face. Then her eyes locked on his eyes when he joined Sam singing the chorus.

“But when I taste tequila, baby I still see ya Cuttin' up the floor in a sorority t-shirt The same one you wore when we were Sky high in Colorado, your lips pressed against the bottle Swearin' on a Bible, baby, I'd never leave ya I remember how bad I need ya, when I taste tequila (when I, when I, when I) When I taste tequila (when I, when I, when I)”

Sam went into the second verse and (Y/N) leaned her back against his side. He could hear her singing along with his brother. Dean was surprised that she knew the lyrics.

“I can kiss somebody brand new and not even think about you I can show up to the same bar Hear the same songs in my car Baby, your memory it only hits me this hard”

Something about the way she looked off in the distance as she sang made his stomach churn. Trying to shake off the feeling, Dean focused on singing the chorus and playing out the rest of the song. He looked down at his brother, who had stood up for his stool that Eileen was now sitting on. The happiness on Sam’s face brought joyful tears to his eyes. As they sang the last few lines, Dean looked over to see (Y/N) was now gone and his heart fell a little.

The rest of their set went without a hitch. As soon as Dean was off stage he looked for (Y/N) unable to find her anywhere. He waited for her near the main stage and she finally appeared mere seconds before she had to go on. She stopped long enough to kiss his cheek and then ran out onto the dark stage. His heart sunk even further in his chest as she began to sing.

“Here I am with my drink in hand Gonna make a little noise It's 3 am Me and my friends are hangin' with the boys Strip away like a hurricane And turn me upside down”

She stepped up on a platform where there was a makeshift cage gripping the bars as she sang.

“Cuz I'm an animal in a cage Won't you come and let me out Feel my body Temperature's rising Whether you're ready or not”

Like the thousands of people watching her, Dean was mesmerized by her performance. (Y/N) was weaving her magic with each word she sang and every move of her body. They were all under her spell as she finished the chorus and went into the second verse.

“No alibi Now you decide Tell me what's it gonna be”

(Y/N) wiggled her finger for Kyren to come over to her. Her fingers threading through his hair bring his face as close to her body as possible without touching her. Dean’s fist clenched at his side seeing his nose graze against her thigh as she sang.

“Can't get enough So fire it up Let's get you down on me Feeling naughty My clothes are falling Whether you're ready or not”

A tap on his shoulder brought his angry gaze onto Eileen and Sam standing next to him. Eileen signed, ‘I’m sorry.’ She looked out towards the stage. Dean followed her line of sight to see (Y/N) stripped down to the equivalent of her bra and panties.  

“I'm coming in hot For the weekend Won't you turn me up Ready or not I'm coming in I'm coming in hot Off the deep end Electrify me up Give me that shock I'm coming in I'm coming in hot”

He had watched every show of Beauty from Pain and never once had she stripped down this much in front of the crowd. When he watched Kyren’s hand snake down her body before giving her ass a firm smack. Dean had enough walking off towards the green room.

“Are you okay?” His brother’s voice pierced through the rage burn throughout his body.

Dean stared at the wall in front of him for a moment before pulling his arm back and smashing his fist through it. The pain radiated up his arm into his shoulder and back. He could feel a couple of his knuckles crack and in an instance knew his hand was broken.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Sam flatly said.

“Fuck!” He yelled before turning around and showing Sam his bloody hand, “I think I need to see the doc.”

They walked back to the med tent and the tour medical staff quickly wrapped his hand up. None of them asked how or why his hand was a mess. The doctor only told him that it would be a couple of weeks for it to heal. Dean walked with Sam in silence back towards the meet and greet area. Before they entered Sam stopped him.

“I like (Y/N). I think she’s good for you and vice versa. But she’s not worth this.”

He looked up at his little brother giving him a small nod. Sam squeezed his shoulder before walking inside. Dean could hear (Y/N)’s voice from the stage luring him to come to her like a moth to the flame. Shaking his head, he followed Sam and finished his night out by focusing on the fans there to meet him.

He made sure that he was back on his bus before (Y/N)’s set had ended. Sam and Cas were also there, neither of them saying anything. For the first time in a long time, the three of them hung out as the bus sped down the highway to their next city. Any thoughts of (Y/N) he pushed out of his mind and tried to enjoy his time with his family.

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[sirowsky]

Christmas Special

A standalone Pero Tovar story, because I'm feeling down and he's my comfort character. I missed my family's Christmas celebration this weekend, the only time in December that everyone was available, and now this year's Christmas spirit has kind of died, for me. So, this is completely self-indulgent romantic crap that somehow isn't sappy. I don't know what happened, it was supposed to be. Anyway - Enjoy!

(I'm copying the DMT taglist for this, cause I love you guys!)

Description: You and Pero both work in the same office, and he's an enigma to absolutely everyone, including you. But when you're having your worst day of the year, he's oddly enough the one that gets you through it.

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Christmas themes, cursing, angst, loneliness, family dispute. Modern!pero, pero tovar x female reader. No use of y/n. Dual perspectives. Word Count: 8060

The Correct Part 2 (the original and horrible Part 2)

Author’s Masterlist

You hated office parties, and Christmas parties most of all, for two primary reasons. Firstly, because you hated spending the holidays without your family. You’d grown up in a small town in a poor family, where good food and loving company was what that day had come to mean to you. Secondly, because office nerds that spent the entire year cooped up in little booths all day, tended to go apeshit crazy whenever they were handed free booze. Now that might only be true of these particular office nerds, but the last four years could attest to it. Regardless, you did not in any conceivable way look forward to the event and had planned no to attend at all. But, as seemed to be your lot in life, everything you didn’t want to do, ended up being crammed down your throat anyway.

And this festive season was no exception, because of course your boss had decided that you would be receiving a special commendation on that very night, effectively forcing you to be there. You’d let out a string of curses that would’ve made your nanna cringe, had she been alive to hear it, when you’d left your boss’s office after she’d told you. You just wanted to sit at home in your pyjamas and eat pizza and watch sappy Christmas movies so you could get a good fucking cry out of your system at the reminder of just how damn lonely you were, and then fall asleep hugging every pillow you owned. Was that too much to ask for a single woman on Christmas Day?? Apparently so!

******

Pero Tovar wasn’t the happiest of men. He didn’t know specifically why that was, beyond the fact that he disliked most every other human being that crossed his path, and that usually his co-workers managed to top that list. He’d had a good career in the military, but black ops weren’t something one did into old age, and it wasn’t exactly something he could put on his resumé. In fact, none of the work he’d done for the military could be specified on anything, ever. Which meant that finding work was… tricky. He’d mostly worked in private security in the five years since he’d left his previous life, but that often meant baby-sitting rich assholes, which he neither had the patience or delicacy of tongue for. Whenever he did speak, which he avoided as much as possible, he wasn’t one to mince words, and it had gotten him fired about half a dozen times by now. Rich assholes were also sensitive assholes, it seemed. So, he’d decided to try to do something different, which was why he was now staring at a surveillance feed of an office, five floors above his head, where technicians were working on developing new software for… something. They had to be monitored at all times, to ensure that no one attempted to copy or steal any data, even though there were other security measures in place for that. Pero considered it a waste of time to try and protect numbers in computers, but no matter how tedious he might find the work, he was not one to shrug off his duties. He’d do the job, no matter how boring, if a contract had been signed. Just as long as no one asked or expected him to smile or be polite while doing so. With fifteen minutes left on his shift, his replacement showed up. They all rotated positions within the building, taking turns to stand guard at the main and secondary entrance, patrol the floors, screen visitors and occasionally escort an analyst or technician to the company headquarters on the other side of the city, when sensitive data was involved. For some reason that was the one task that the other ten guards working there, hated the most. But for Pero it was the exact opposite. He liked getting out of the office and spending a few hours in a quiet car with just a driver and a techie to worry about. Especially now, when he’d been there over six months and everyone had learned that he did not engage in small-talk, and generally let him be. Well, almost everyone.

“Hey, Tovar! What’s cookin’?”

Ben Tyler was one of those people that just hated when it got too quiet and would fill the silence with their own voice if no one else did. The man would whistle and sing, play air-guitar and use his own thighs as drums, just to not have to endure one minute of total silence, and in the beginning it had nearly driven Pero to rip out his colleague’s tongue. But to his own surprise, Tyler had grown on him. Simply because as much as he talked and made noise, it had never once bothered him that Pero didn’t respond, and now that they’d worked together for a time, the kid didn’t seem to expect him to, either. He seemed perfectly fine with carrying on a completely one-sided conversation all day long. And he somehow managed to still do a good job, something that Pero always respected.

“All good.”

It was as much of a response as he ever gave when there was nothing to report, and the kid just smiled and took a seat next to him.

“Hey, you’re coming right? To the x-mas thing!”

Pero just gave him a steely look in return. Tyler knew more than well that he never attended anything that wasn’t contractually forced upon him.

“Aw, come on, man! It’s the one time we get to just hang with everybody else, and be regular people, not ‘those security guys’ that no one ever speaks to.”

He just kept staring at the kid.

“Yeah, yeah, I know – you prefer it that way, but has it ever crossed your mind that maybe I’d like to have a friend there?”

That made him lower his eyebrows in confusion.

“So, bring a friend.”

The kid huffed at him with a somewhat annoyed smile in his face.

“I’m trying to, dim-wit. You’re my friend.”

His eyebrows climbed back up again at that. If Tyler considered the likes of him a friend, then he must not have anyone else. But that wasn’t Pero’s problem. He got up to leave, and the kid turned his swivelling chair to follow his movements.

“An hour? Half an hour? Please…”

He sighed, and turned back, while he opened the door.

“Sorry.”

*****

The thingwas always held between the 20th and the 24th and this year it was going to take place on December the 23rd, a regular Tuesday to most people. You wanted to be most people. That date seemed to come flying at you the more you dreaded it, and suddenly it was Monday, and you hadn’t prepared. You had no dress, no shoes, no fucking speech… Why did you have to give a speech? Wasn’t it enough torture to just make you stand in a spotlight while a stupid plaque was handed to you? As had been your method for the past three weeks, and the reason why you weren’t at all prepared, you refused to think about it and just worked. Your fingers were quick and sure on the keys, and you felt confident when you wrote code. It almost made you forget the stressful crap you’d be forced to deal with tomorrow. You could get completely lost in the virtual world that in some ways made so much more sense to you than reality. Not in terms of games or social media, but the actual code. You felt like there was so much in this world that was just incomprehensible but writing code you understood perfectly. It was your safe place. Which was why you were terribly disappointed when your assistant came to tap you on the shoulder, disrupting your flow.

“Hey, you’re late!”

For a moment you thought that an entire day had already passed, and that you were expected at the party right then.

“The transfer ring any bells?”

“Oh, shit…”

It did. You were scheduled to take important datasets to HQ that day, and while you had prepared the data, you hadn’t unlocked it for transfer yet, which took at least ten minutes, meaning the schedule was going to be interrupted as you only had five minutes until the car was supposed to exit the garage. And that meant calling down to security to make them change the schedule, which they hated doing, especially with short notice. But there was no other way, so you picked up the phone.

“Sec-desk, Gaby speaking.”

“Hey, Gaby, it’s me. Listen I’m so sorry, but I forgot to unlock the transfer, can you push the schedule 10 minutes?”

“Oh, Genie… you just had to, didn’t you?”

“Don’t tell me it’s Tovar’s rotation? I can’t be that unlucky!”

“I’m afraid you are. So, you know… run.”

“Fuck!”

Of all the guards, Pero Tovar was the one guy no one wanted to screw with. He was the newest hire, but even in his first week he’d already made everyone else move out of his way when they met him. They hadn’t even dared to try and prank him, which was the usual rite of passage for new employees. He wasn’t mean exactly, he was just… unreadable. Unaffected by anything and everything. Nobody knew of a single thing he liked, or what he did in his spare time, or even where he lived. But you all knew what he disliked. And anything that jeopardised his ability to fulfil his duties, was met by a scowl so deep that it made him look freaking deadly. He was broad as a doorway and tall enough to tower over most people, and his hands were huge and calloused, and you were mostly convinced that he really could and would kill people, if need be. So, you ran. You couldn’t do anything about the elevator, but you ran every other bit of the way to get to the sub-basement and the servers, where Mr. Tovar himself waited by the door. Security always accompanied you inside, to make sure that everything was done in accordance with all established procedures, and you literally shivered at the thought of being alone in a small space with this man right now. He was not happy, and you didn’t need that on top of your already peaking stress-levels.

“I know, I’m late, and I’m sorry.”

It was somehow so much worse that he never responded. In the six months that he’d been there, you’d never heard him say a single word. Not that it was needed, really, when he was so adept at showing his malcontent in expressions alone. There was a step-by-step procedure that had to be followed to the letter in order to unlock a dataset, and it was a process that simply couldn’t be rushed, no matter how much you cursed at the system in your head. But once you were in the armoured Mercedes sedan, almost exactly seven minutes late, there was nothing else to do for the ninety-minute drive, and that was even worse. He sat next to you in the backseat, rather than in the front passenger seat, like all the other guards did, for reasons you had no clue about. And his eyes continually scanned the surroundings, which meant that he regularly turned his head towards you, but not to speak to you or even acknowledge your presence, which made you feel awkward. You could always speak to the driver, but with where your head was at that day, you couldn’t think of anything to talk about, other than the damn party, and you were not in the mood to talk about that. When you got there, safe and sound as always, the silent wall of a man had to accompany you inside, and even though he’d only set foot in HQ four times prior to that occasion, even the people there knew to step aside when he approached. The transfer consisted of just literally handing the datasets over to another techie, made slightly trickier by the fact that they were in a bulletproof briefcase handcuffed to your wrist, to which only the receiving technician and their security guard, had the correct key. But it went smoothly, and within ten minutes you were back in the car and looking forward to another ninety minutes of awkward silence before you’d finally be free to return to your coding. When you eventually got back, Tovar was meant only to escort you to the elevator, but he broke protocol by stepping inside with you. He pressed the button for the seventh floor, for you, but none for himself, despite not being scheduled for office patrol that afternoon. The transfer guard always returned to the main security desk after the ride-along was complete.

“Uhm… something you need on my floor?”

Why did you expect him to answer? Whatever he was going up there for, it was highly probable that it was none of your business, so why would he indulge your curiosity? Unless he was going up there to complain about your tardiness to your nearest superior, and that thought just brought you down so far that you wanted to fall through the floor.

“Listen, I’m sorry about being late, it wasn’t intentional. I’m having a really crappy day, alright, and tomorrow’s gonna be even worse, so could you just cut me a break this time?”

He turned to actually look at you for once. At you, not past or through you, and you found yourself fighting the urge to take a step away from him. But you felt small and fragile and your response to that was always to try and stand taller, so you refused to turn your eyes away, as you always had the few times he’d looked at you before, just because of the frightening intensity in his dark orbs. However, now that you really met his eyes for the first time, you found an unexpected amount of emotion in there, and suddenly he seemed less of a brute and more like a bear. Tough and stronger than most when needed, but perhaps somewhat cuddly in between, if the circumstances allowed. Or maybe you were just seeing what you wanted to see. Wait, what? Why would you want to see that? The ding just before the doors rolled open startled you, and you turned your head back towards them, staring out onto your floor, but finding yourself hesitant to enter. He hadn’t moved, and it made you uncertain. You stood there, waiting to see what he’d do before you dared to move, which was just stupid, because even if he was going to complain about you, there was fuck all you could about it. But then the doors began to close again, and he reached forwards to hold them open.

“You seem distracted. Just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t accidentally go to the roof and fall off.”

You merely gaped at him for a few seconds. He spoke. Two whole sentences, no less. How did you not know that he was Spanish? And that voice, holy crap! And… was he really saying that he was concerned about you? No. He was a security guard, it was quite literally his job to keep you safe. Although, that didn’t ordinarily mean breaking protocol just to see you safely to your floor.

“Oh… that’s…… that.”

What? The hell kind of answer was that?

“Uh, I mean, tempting.”

Did you just say…?

“THOUGHTFUL! I meant to say thoughtful, that’s very thoughtful of you, thank you so much and good day.”

Suddenly you couldn’t leave the damn elevator fast enough, and you could’ve sworn you heard him chuckle under his breath right after you darted away, which was impossible because everyone knew that Tovar was incapable of laughing. It had to be one of the analysts in the cubicles closest to the elevator, that might’ve overheard your exchange. Had you bothered to go back and check, though, instead of charging through the floor to your office, you’d have seen that they both wore headphones at the time.

*****

The entire office closed over the holidays, starting on the 23rd, and wouldn’t open again until January, so that morning, Pero slept in and had a lazy morning to start off his vacation. He didn’t normally do much on his days off since he wasn’t a man of many interests, but he did like to read. Thrillers and crime-novels mostly, but also good drama, and by good he meant engaging. Not just romance and intrigue but struggles and hardships and that kind of stuff. He liked reading about people who overcame adversity, which was why his rather impressive collection included more than one autobiography as well. Currently, he was working on an old Tom Clancy book that he’d enjoyed as a younger man and was revisiting for the first time since then. He didn’t enjoy it quite as much now, when he had personal experience to compare with, but it was still a good story. The one-bedroom apartment where he lived was relatively large and could probably be made really cosy by someone better at decorating than him. All he had there was a small kitchen table and chairs, a couch with a coffee-table, two giant bookcases and a bed. The closets came with the apartment. There were no cushions or blankets, pictures or paintings, or even curtains anywhere and the few lamps he owned were simple and practical. He had no personal items at all beyond his clothes and books, not even a tv. He did have a cell phone so his employer could reach him, but he would’ve preferred not to have one. Particularly that morning, when it suddenly decided to ring. The office were the only people that had the number, so he knew that it was someone from there calling, and he seriously contemplated just ignoring it. Because the only thing happening at the office that day was the party, which he refused to attend. Still. Something might’ve happened.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Tovar, this is Gregory Peck.”

That was his supervisor, and it was never a good sign when he called.

“Yes?”

”Uh, well, I’m afraid I’m gonna have to order you back in tonight.”

Exactly as he’d expected.

“I’m on vacation.”

“You’ll be well compensated for your troubles, but this really isn’t a request. We’ve received a threat concerning the event, and it’s credible enough that we feel the need to have a full security detail in place.”

That made him shift gears immediately. It was one thing to be called in for regular work, but a threat to the innocent office workers that he and the rest of the building’s security force were specifically charged with protecting, was something else entirely.

“Any details?”

“You’ll be briefed upon arrival. I’ll need you here at 17:00 hours.”

“Yes, sir.”

*****

You were still unprepared, even as you stood in the elevator on your way to the penthouse of the office, which was basically just an empty venue that could be turned into anything from conference rooms to a gaming hub to a nightclub. All it took was the right equipment. Even though the dress and the make-up were on, and some kind of speech was jotted down on a post-it note that now sat at the bottom of your clutch purse, you felt like everything was somehow unfinished. This wasn’t your thing, it really wasn’t. You might be considered a bit of a hotshot within the company, but at heart you were a person that moved best in shadows and was quite happy with that. Fame and glory weren’t things you’d ever craved, and you never would. You weren’t opposed to the odd party, but this was a fucking Ball, and that came with certain expectations. Everyone was meant to dress and act in certain ways, and you just didn’t know the rules, no one had ever taught you about etiquette. Which would be fine if you could hide in your precious shadows, but that wasn’t gonna work tonight. The entirety of the senior staff would be there, so screwing up wasn’t an option. Especially since you were their best senior technician, meaning they held you as a standard for all the junior techies and analysts, something you were normally okay with, but not when it came to situations like these. What you wouldn’t give to get to hold a presentation to two thousand people about how to write encrypted programming, or something, instead. But you were too damn honest to call in sick, and you had too much respect for your boss to disappoint her by just ducking out. So, you checked yourself in the elevator mirror one last time. Red wasn’t your colour, so you’d opted for a white dress with embroidered snowflakes in gold, over the body and lower skirt of the full-length gown. The cut was simple and classic, but still showed off more cleavage than you’d ever wear ordinarily. It was flattering to your figure, but you still knew that you were really gonna hate it by the end of the night, just because of how unaccustomed you were to wear that sort of thing. You hadn’t had the foresight of ordering a cab, so you’d driven yourself there and just hoped that you wouldn’t feel the need to dip into the eggnog. You took off your coat and slung it over your arm just as the doors opened, and what you had to admit was an impressive décor, met your eyes. There were five giant and fully decked out trees, crystal snowflakes and stars hanging from the ceiling, an entire set of Santa’s reindeer, fake of course, but complete with sleigh and Father Christmas himself. In any other setting, you would’ve liked it, but because you knew that you weren’t gonna enjoy this evening, the magic just wasn’t there. It was already too loud and too crowded, even though you’d only just set foot on the floor. You gave your coat to a guy by a tent that stood in as a closet, and he hung it up for you, handing you a keychain with a number on it in return, so that you’d get the correct one back later. Then Alice, your boss, spotted you, and the circus began. As you’d expected, the little ceremony for your commendation was awkward and even though you did your best to smile and try and be appreciative, you were sure that everyone could see how much you hated being there. And of course, you forgot the note in your purse and didn’t wanna start digging for it while you stood there on the stage, so you just fumbled out some mediocre thanks and tried to hurry off the stage. But since the other three people up there with you were closer to the one little staircase, you had to wait until last. So, when you finally got to it, of course you had to misjudge the first step, in your exaggerated hurry, and fall on your face. Or rather, you would have, if Tovar hadn’t appeared out of the blue and caught you as gracefully as if he was just dancing with you, sweeping you off to the side and setting you down on your feet ever so softly. He was the last person you

would’ve expected to even see there, much less save your ass.

“Oh… Thank you.”

True to form, he said nothing, and only briefly glanced at you while he offered a short nod, before his eyes went to roam the crowd, and he slowly walked away. He was wearing an ordinary suit rather than his uniform, but you knew that look. He was definitely there on the clock, not to party, although you were fairly certain that the man didn’t even know how to party. Which was a shame, really, because he was seriously attractive. That is, if he’d ever smile. The whole broody seriousness wasn’t for you. You had meant to leave as soon as the ceremony was done, but a junior analyst asked you a work-question and you ended up having a long conversation with her. But after a while another friend of hers came up and asked her to dance, and she darted off, and suddenly you remembered where you were. And how alone you were. You’d had friends at the office before, but one had moved away and the other had left the company to go into the family business instead, and by then you’d already become senior technician. Which, for some reason, seemed to make you very intimidating to everyone else. Or maybe that was down to your reputation. You’d earned your nickname, Genius or Genie, by constantly coming up with solutions that no one else managed, and writing clever programs, some of which were in use in various types of equipment worldwide. Everyone expected you to rise through the ranks like a shooting star, but you were happy where you were, just writing and creating and challenging yourself and your coding- and programming skills. Which was why you’d already turned down further advancement. You were just another techie, and you wished that they could see that and feel comfortable talking to you, like they did with each other. You sat there in a corner, watching the room and wondering if this was what your entire life was always gonna be.

*****

“Look, I’m glad nothing happened, but I’m just saying it would’ve felt less like a waste of time if it had. I couldn’t even try the eggnog! And I’ve been dying for an opportunity to cosy up to Marie, you know, the Costa Rican girl on the second floor? Have you seen her desk, man? It’s like filled with Star Wars stuff, and she knows like all the lore and stuff, and I’ve been trying to send her hints, you know, but I don’t think she gets it. She was here tonight, and not one guy asked her to dance, which means I could’ve had my moment! Damn threats and shit, ruining everything…”

Pero stopped listening somewhere around ‘look’, knowing full well that Tyler was just gonna keep going whether he participated or not. The Ball was over and only the last few stragglers were still there, but as long as they were, security had to stay too. It wasn’t required for both of them to stay when there were less than ten people in the venue, but Tyler obviously wasn’t tired and in no mood to go home yet, even though Pero was technically the only one that needed to be there still. The kid followed him around and assisted, as he helped some severely intoxicated people into the elevator, hoping they’d be able to get themselves home, and preferably without leaving any bodily fluids about the building. Not that he’d have to clean it, but the cleaners shouldn’t have to, either. There were still three people sitting on the stage, playing some card game and apparently having a lot of fun, not looking like they were in any hurry to leave yet, when Pero spotted someone outside on the balcony. There were thin silk curtains covering the full-length glass doors, and it was the draft of the just barely open doors making them sway that caught his attention, or he might not have noticed it. He turned to Tyler, interrupting something about swans.

“Stay here.”

Without waiting for a reply, knowing the kid would do what he said, he went to the doors, pulling them open and stepping outside onto the large balcony, to find you. You had no coat on, and just stood there staring out over the city, even though you were shivering. He was about to tell you to come inside, when he heard you snivel. He’d never before seen you allow yourself to be emotional like that. Even when you were unsure or uncomfortable, like with the speech earlier, you always soldiered on, refusing to be broken down or bested, even by yourself. That was why he’d been so surprised when you’d fumbled over your own words the other day. You had a reputation for being hard-working, honest, generous with expletives and more or less unstoppable where your work was concerned. As far as he knew, no one had ever seen you be anything but driven and determined and very confident. But you were none of those things now. Even from behind, he could see the defeat in your shoulders, and he didn’t find that a very suitable look on you. The dress, on the other hand… He’d had to look away from you quickly after he caught you when you’d fallen off the stage, or he would’ve forgotten why he was really there. In what little time he’d been working at this office, he’d found your appearance to stick out from the rest, and in all the best ways. You dressed well, but not like most businesswomen who effectively wore suits. You kept to jeans and colourful blouses or shirts, and over the summer, you’d appeared in some fifty different dresses and skirts. All lively in some way, either in colours or with interesting cuts, but always just enough to still be tasteful, rather than tip over into ostentatious. You avoided too much make-up and kept your hair out of your face either with a simple braid or a ponytail. You were practical and unassuming, and he liked that about you. In all honesty, there were a great many things he liked about you, not that he had any clue how to tell you that. And as he shrugged off his suit-jacket and stepped closer to you, it wasn’t the dress or the make-up or the elaborate hairstyle that made him look more closely at you. You flinched just a little when the warm jacket fell over your shoulders, but you didn’t turn, probably just to try and hide your tears from him.

“What’s wrong?”

You snivelled again, and then chuckled humourlessly.

“Who cares?”

Your voice was colder than the chill in the air, but after you’d said that you let your head fall forwards as your sorrow seemed to deepen. He didn’t know what he could possibly do for you, but he wasn’t about to leave you out there. There were plexiglass shields in place above the ordinary railing, to prevent anyone from falling or jumping, and he didn’t think that that was why you were there. But you could still die of exposure, even in relatively mild temperatures.

“I realised tonight that… I don’t have anyone. No family, no friends, not even co-workers anymore. I mean, they’re still there, and I still work with them, but we’re not… close. They won’t let me get to know them, no matter how much I try. Am I that terrible to be around?”

He wanted to object, but his skills in conversation were limited and he worried that he’d say something you might misinterpret. It made no difference, though, because you didn’t give him a chance.

“Ugh, why am I pouring my heart out to you, of all people? You couldn’t care less.”

That comment stung somewhere in his chest.

“You don’t know me.”

You huffed entirely without mirth and turned to meet his eyes, and he found himself wanting so dearly to make the hurt and loneliness and pain in your face disappear. You’d never seemed to be a person with any deeper pains to speak of. Unlike him, there always seemed to be happiness within the frame of your body, even when you were annoyed. Not now, though. He couldn’t see a single trace of it and that worried him.

“We spent three hours in a car together yesterday, and you didn’t even look at me. Which is fine, you have a job to do, I get that. But you don’t say hello or goodbye, you never wish anyone a good day, you never even offer a smile. Are you telling me that that’s you caring?”

He turned his gaze to the side, looking out over the city while he tried to think. You were right, of course. No one could possibly know the things that went on inside his head when he was so used to blocking everyone out. A hazard of losing one too many brothers to violence and cruelty. And even though he really did want to look at you, all the time, he always schooled himself not to, to avoid temptation. To stop himself from favouring you above everyone else, or from starting to consider himself as having any kind of claim on you, even if it was just in the name of protecting you. Such things could so easily escalate into possessiveness, and he refused to do something like that to you. However, that also meant that all you ever saw from him was the same stoneface that everyone else did, so how could he suddenly claim to care about you with any hope of you believing him? While he kept trying to think of some way to explain, you seemed to give up, making him realise that you’d been trying to coax a reaction out of him. He couldn’t guess at what you might’ve wanted to get out of that, but he still wanted to give it to you. If only he knew what the hell it was. You sighed heavily and your shoulders fell even further. Your head was once again bowed, and he could only just see the slight glimmer of the tears that spilled down your cheeks.

“You know, I really didn’t wanna be here at all. But of course, they had to decide that this would be the perfect occasion to hand out a special commendation for my ‘excellent work’. As if that even means anything.”

Your voice was low and weak, and he got the feeling that you were continuing to speak even though you didn’t believe that he cared, simply because you needed to say this out loud. He wanted you to keep talking, no matter what you talked about, so he said the first thing that came to mind.

“You don’t think your work is excellent?”

“That’s beside the point. No one cares how many plaques or diplomas I have, it’s all just for show, it’s meaningless. But they make such a big deal out of it. Handing me a piece of wood and metal that they spent a hundred bucks on so they can pretend that it proves how good my work is. All just to entice the others to work harder so that they can get a damn plaque too. It’s all bullshit.”

He knew a little about commendations and the largely meaningless rituals that came with them, so he understood your point, but he also knew that it wasn’t what you were really upset about.

“That’s not why you’re sad.”

You lifted your head and met his eyes, letting a forced smile plant itself in your face, which together with your tear-streaked cheeks made you look even sadder somehow.

“I’m sad because it’s Christmas and I’m alone. I’m always alone, and for the most part it’s fine, I’m used to it. But these few days of the year… to me, they’re about family. About togetherness and making time for one another. About love.”

Your fake smile had faded by the time you finished, and you looked away from him again, pulling his jacket closed over your front as the shivers had started up again.

“Where is your family?”

You closed your eyes tightly, and a deep breath left through your slightly parted lips. Not in a huff or a sigh, but more like a piece of your soul had broken off and flown away.

“There was a fight. A long time ago. I wasn’t even a part of it, but… we never found our way back to each other after that. I haven’t seen them, at all, in more than eight years.”

Suddenly you seemed to decide that this entire situation was ridiculous, and quickly wiped your tears away before shrugging his jacket off to hand it back to him.

“I don’t even know why I’m still here. And I have no idea why I’m still talking to you. I’m sorry for taking up your time with my drama.”

You rattled the few sentences off quickly and stepped past him to the door, heading back inside and over to the closet-tent.

*****

Of course, your coat was gone. Why wouldn’t it be? Everything else had gone to shit. Why the hell hadn’t you gone home when you’d first meant to? And what on earth had possessed you to pour your heart out to fucking Tovar?!

“Hey, Genie! I didn’t think you were still here. Congrats on the prize, or whatever you call it.”

Ben Tyler. The happiest 22-year-old you’d ever met. Nothing ever brought him down.

“Hi. Uh, yeah, thanks. I’m leaving now, but you have a good night.”

“Sure. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’ll see you after the holidays.”

You knew that he could tell that you’d cried, he was a sweet kid, but you hoped that he wouldn’t ask anything else about it. You just wanted to get home and peel off the damn dress and go to bed. The elevator was quick to arrive, and you stepped inside, suddenly grateful to be alone with your emotionally messed up self. But before the doors closed, there he was again. Seriously, was this the national ‘Being stuck with Pero Tovar’ holiday, or something? You watched him step inside, not pressing any button of his own, meaning he’d be heading for the garage too, and you scowled. Was this his idea of solving your loneliness problem? Well, that wasn’t gonna happen. And what did he care about your loneliness, anyway? You scolded yourself for being so self-centred, as it dawned on you that he was probably just leaving too, now that almost everyone had gone, and that the timing was likely just a coincidence. But when the elevator pinged as you reached the garage floor and the doors opened, he waited for you to step out before he followed, and even that was enough to set you off on him again.

“I’m not some helpless damsel, so you can stop with the chivalry, okay. I don’t need you to protect me.”

You walked down the short hall to the garage door, and then flinched when he stopped you from punching in the code that unlocked it, by taking your hand and holding it gently. And as you turned your head to find out what the heck he was up to; he was suddenly so much closer than you’d anticipated.

“I know.”

His voice had dropped, and you were abruptly aware of a very nice smell that wafted off him. Your eyes were trapped in his, that appeared to have turned into liquid brown pools, like a dark scotch or brandy. Suddenly you felt hot and sort of itchy, wondering what his hands might be good at. Not to mention his lips… and hips. Shit. You’d never even contemplated him in any romantic or erotic light, he was way too cold to make you think of him like that. Even now, when your own body was abruptly reacting to him as though he was trying to seduce you, you still had no idea if that was what he was actually doing. He was completely impossible to read. You hadn’t been around him enough to be able to properly judge his behaviour, especially since tonight was the first time you’d ever seen him outside of his professional character, and the first time you’d had a real conversation with him. Not that he’d said much, but it was still 100% more than he normally did. Closing your eyes and taking a slow breath made your mind clear, and you remembered that you weren’t a one-night-stand-person, so even if he was coming on to you, which you were by no means sure of, nothing would happen. You’d been hurt too many times to count, by thinking that guys were genuinely interested in you, only to wake up alone, and you were sick of it. God, why where you even thinking like that? He had literally just said two words to you and suddenly you were thinking about sex? What the fuck… You took another breath. To avoid meeting his intense eyes when you opened yours, you leaned your head back against the wall, and instead opened them to a familiar sight, up under the ceiling. Some joker had put a mistletoe up there, in between a lamp and a warm-air fan that kicked in automatically if cold air came flowing inside at the opening of the door. He had just let go of your hand again, when you started giggling because it was just too ridiculous. Things like this didn’t happen. There was no such thing as a God-wink, and you’d never believed in fate. But… he was incredibly hot, even if you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge that before. So, why not? The entire evening had been a disaster anyway, what difference would it make if you woke up with one more regret tomorrow? You grabbed his shoulders and hugged yourself to him while pressing your lips to his, having to rise onto your toes as you’d picked flat shoes for comfort. His arms came around you and steadied you against his chest, while his lips eagerly followed your lead, and that emboldened you as you really hadn’t expected him to kiss you back at all. You opened your mouth, trailing your tongue along his upper lip, and he opened for you, letting his tongue dance with yours while his hands dropped to your hips, and your back suddenly connected to the cool wall. You moved your hands, as he pressed himself against you, letting one tangle in his hair and the other snake around his waist, tugging him closer. Damn, he felt good. The way he responded, the eager passion that he somehow managed to show without becoming demanding, was something you’d never come across in a guy before, and it made you want him. Badly. But with you, that was always a bad sign. You broke the kiss, and he pulled back, giving you your space even though he clearly wanted to continue claiming it. And now you felt stupid.

“I’m sorry, I… shit.”

He just stood there, only his hands still in contact with you, softly holding your hips, waiting while you tried again.

“I didn’t mean to start something I can’t finish… I just saw the mistletoe, and with the night I’ve had… I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to feel something good.”

He looked up and saw the plant hanging there, and then let go of you completely.

“Okay.”

It wasn’t a ‘that’s okay, I was just playing’ kind of okay. It was way more disappointed than that. He looked… hurt, and that really bothered you. Why did that bother you? You didn’t even like him…

“I don’t mean to say that I didn’t enjoy that, I did! A lot. But I have a terrible track record with men and I’m just not up for another night of being meaninglessly fucked and left. Especially not tonight.”

He seemed frozen for a few seconds, just staring at you, making you feel self-conscious and strangely exposed.

“It wouldn’t be meaningless. Not for me.”

That threw you for a loop which had your stomach churning. He couldn’t mean that. You must be misinterpreting, because why would he care?

“I’ve liked you from the start, Genie. I’m just not very good at… dating. I never have, at least not as an adult. But I’ve wanted to ask you out every time we’ve been trapped in that car together.”

Your mouth had gone dry, and something seemed to be beating the inside of your chest with a sledgehammer, making it hard to breathe. Firstly, he’d just spoken for real. For the first time he’d offered more than a short and emotionally detached reply to a question. He’d given you a real explanation and even… a declaration. And because he’d never spoken that much before, every sentence told you so much more about him. His voice was sure, but his words suggested that he expected rejection. Maybe all the time. He wasn’t shy exactly, nor insecure. But more likely damaged, just like you. With the difference that where you’d tried to use positivity and laughter and enjoyment as a way of keeping yourself grounded and sane and at least moderately happy, he’d chosen to shut the world out.

“Then why haven’t you?”

He took a moment to consider that, and you found yourself hanging on every micro-expression in his features, trying to understand more about him.

“I’m a military man. I respond to orders, commands, I don’t understand small-talk and I don’t really want to. But I also felt like I couldn’t just say ‘will you date me?’ because people don’t do that. They give… hints? And then the other person is just supposed to know, like it’s some kind of magic.”

He shrugged unhappily, and turned his gaze to the floor, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and he suddenly looked so adorable to you. How was that possible? You didn’t even like him…

“There are a lot of things I’m not good at, as you’ve already noticed, but I can fix almost anything, and I rarely complain. I’m loyal, reliable and I try to be kind, and yes, I’m also very protective. And… I really… really like you.”

Wow. Just… wow. Suddenly there was so much to process. Too much. He was offering himself to you, highlighting his strengths so that you’d know what you were getting if you accepted. And you were pretty sure you already knew what his major weaknesses were. But, what about you? You kept telling yourself that you didn’t like him, but… damn it if he wasn’t growing on you by the second. You had to close your eyes again, to try and get that sledgehammer to ease up so that you could answer him. But you still had to clear your throat a few times before your voice came back.

“Tovar… I don’t know you. At all.”

His head came back up and his eyes sought yours again. If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. In fact, he looked mostly mildly confused.

“And still you kissed me like that. With meaning.”

Oh, shit. He was right. Had a hurricane passed over your life in the past few minutes? It sure as hell felt like it and you were getting increasingly frustrated for a lot of reasons.

“I have no idea what I feel right now! Except-…”

Now it was his turn to hang on your every expression, even holding his breath in anticipation. But you took too long, and he got impatient enough to try and hurry your answer a little.

“What?”

And suddenly you hated the distance between you. Suddenly you wanted him to make you forget every other lover you’d ever had, every lonely night when the pain in your gut, the pain of not having a person, someone that was always there for you, had made you wanna scream.

“Except that I really want you to make me feel good. Any kind of good, even if it is just for one night. Even just an hour.”

Something soft filled his eyes at your words, and he stepped closer, putting his hands on your cheeks and you loved how warm he felt.

“All night. I promise.”

This time, he was the one that kissed you, and even though it was a shorter one, it was still full of meaning. Had he told you that he’d take you home, tell you to take a long and warm shower and then crawl under covers with you and just hold you close all night long, you wouldn’t have believed him. But that’s exactly what he did. And it was the best night of your life. Well. Up until then, at least.

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

Link to Part 2 (the correct one)

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[lostinthewiind]

I know it’s been a while since you posted this one but maybe a smutty part 4 for the thick thighs save lives daichi fic…you could age them up of course to maybe living together in college or something 😁

Thick Thighs Save Lives Part 4

A/N: I will honestly NEVER get tired of this series so hell yeah you can have a smutty part 4! Time to put those thighs to good use, Daichi!

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Warnings: thigh-riding, female!reader, female anatomy, male anatomy, aged-up characters, mutual masturbation, fingering, handjob

Stepping into your shared apartment after a long, exhausting day of classes was like you had been transported into the Sahara Desert. The wave of heat hit you like a freight train; an unpleasant contrast to the air-conditioned hallway of the apartment complex.

"Holy crap!" you exclaimed, immediately kicking off your shoes and setting down your things. "It's like a fricken sauna in here!"

Not a second later, your roommate and best friend, Daichi, emerged from his bedroom, shirtless and sweating. "The AC unit stopped working," he said as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "I texted the landlord but he said there is nothing he can do until Monday."

Throwing your head back, you groaned. "And here I was hoping for a relaxing Friday night."

Daichi nodded. "And we can't even open the windows because it's just as hot, if not hotter, outside."

"Just great." You rolled your eyes, the heat already starting to get to you and induce irritation. "Please tell me we at least still have running water. Cold running water."

"That we do have," Daichi assured you as he headed for the bathroom. "Speaking of which, I'm going to take a cold shower."

"Don't be too long," you told him as you started for your bedroom, ready to change into a sports bra and shorts. "I need a shower too."

Approximately an hour later, after both you and Daichi had stood under the cold water until your lips turned blue, the two of you sat in the living room wearing as little clothing as possible, lazily fighting over who would get the shower next.

As expected, it hadn't taken long for the effects of the cold shower to wear off, leaving you both sweating and nearly panting again in no time.

"How about this?" Daichi turned to look at you from his spot on the couch, "I go hop in the shower again and you run out and buy us some fans."

Rolling over onto your back on a spot of cool floor, you scoffed. "How about I shower and you go shopping? Hmm?"

Daichi only grunted, meaning he was no more willing to step out into the humid monstrosity that was waiting outside than you were. "We really need to find a better place to live," he finally spoke. "This place is falling apart around us."

You chuckled lightly. "And how do you suppose we do that? We're a couple of broke college students living from paycheck to paycheck."

"Yeah, you're right . . ." Daichi admitted before smiling. "But hey, at least we have each other."

You snorted before closing your eyes and exhaling slowly. "Yeah . . . at least we have each other."

There was a moment of silence before you heard a thud and the sound of skin slapping against hardwood, indicating that Daichi had decided to join you on the floor, which was much cooler than the couch. Seconds later, you could feel a presence next to you and you opened your eyes to see Daichi lying next to you on his stomach.

"If just the thought of touching you didn't give me heat flashes, I'd suggest cuddling up on the couch and watching a movie together," Daichi's voice was soft as he ghosted his fingers over your stomach, sending chills up your spine that you wholeheartedly welcomed.

You smiled even though the thought of cuddling made you feel like you were seconds away from melting into a human puddle right there on the floor. "We could watch a movie here on the floor," you suggested. "Maybe it will distract us."

"Yeah . . . maybe," Daichi agreed, but he didn't make any effort to stand up or turn on the TV. Instead, he kept ghosting his fingers along your exposed flesh, of which there was an abundance of at the moment. "Actually, scratch my previous idea . . . if we had AC right now, there is something else I'd much rather be doing with you."

You quirked a brow at him, pretending to be puzzled even though you knew exactly where he was going with this. "Hmm?" you hummed.

He grinned. "It involves the same amount of close contact—probably even more—but way less TV watching."

"Ah . . ." you couldn't help but chuckle to yourself, ". . . wrestling."

Daichi chuckled as well. "Yes, you college-educated genius, I totally meant wrestling."

As the chuckling died down, you reached out to him and ran your fingertips along his shoulder blades, eliciting a shudder and content sigh from Daichi. The sweat on his back helped your skin glide smoothly across his and for a second, you pictured how messy and slippery things would be if the two of you were tangled up in each other in bed right then.

The thought brought a new type of warmth to your body—more specifically, to your core. Suddenly, despite how hot you were, you wanted nothing more than to jump your roommate's bones. That was one way to distract yourself from the heat . . .

Daichi, ever the observant one, noticed the change in your body language and scooted closer to you, his lips inches away from your ear. "Do you remember the first time we had sex?" he spoke so nonchalantly that it actually startled you a little. His voice, so deep and soft in your ear, made you shiver. "Hmm?" he provoked, looking for an answer.

You nodded. "Yeah, it was right after we graduated high school."

"That's right." He flicked his tongue over the shell of your ear before blowing on it lightly, the combination of the cooling sensation and the loud noise heightening your anticipation. Then, you felt his fingers finally make actual contact with your skin—the skin right above the waistband of your shorts.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you let your eyes flutter shut. "It had been a long day and we both just wanted to take a quick nap before the graduation party that night," you continued the story; after all, you did know it like the back of your hand since you thought about it a lot when you were alone in your room at night.

"Just a nap." You felt Daichi smirk against your ear as his hand dipped below your waistband and into your underwear, causing you to let out a satisfied moan when his fingertips pressed down on your throbbing clit. "But it wasn't just a nap, was it?"

You shook your head and opened your mouth to say something in response, but before you could get a word out, Daichi pressed his thumb down hard on your clit while his fingers prodded your entrance, causing you to let out a pleasure-induced sigh instead.

"You were always such a tease before then," he continued to recount your first time together while he touched you the way he knew drove you wild. "Hands roaming while we cuddled, thighs squeezing around my own, soft kisses against my chest and neck. If only I had known how badly you had wanted me, I would have made a move sooner."

"Daichi," you moaned out as his fingers slipped inside of you and curled upwards. "Wanted you so badly . . . want you so badly now."

Readjusting your position on the floor, you rolled onto your side and reached out to massage Daichi's growing erection through his shorts. This was when you learned he wasn't wearing any underwear because of the heat; just a pair of loose gym shorts.

Daichi's eyes screwed shut and he hissed slightly when you touched him. "Fuck," he grunted as he rubbed the pad of his thumb against your clit, eliciting the same sort of response out of you seconds later. "I swear to God if it wasn't so fucking hot right now I would rip your clothes off and have my way with you right here on the floor."

You clenched around Daichi's fingers at the thought of having hot, sweaty sex with him on the living room floor.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Daichi felt your muscles contract around his digits and smirked. "Your body is responding so nicely to me."

Stuffing your hand down Daichi's shorts and wrapping your hand around his hard cock, you wasted no time and began to jerk him off. If it was too hot to have actual sex, then the two of you would just have to find another way to get each other off.

"Just like that, baby," Daichi cooed as you ran your thumb over the tip of his cock, collecting the precum there and spreading it along the shaft. "Shit, your hand feels so good around me. Wish it was your pussy though," he gave a rather harsh thrust of his fingers into you and curled them up into your sweet spot, making you clench around him once more, "nothing feels as good around me as your sweet pussy does."

Feeling beads of sweat beginning to drip down your back and forehead, you huffed, trying to catch your breath and cool down a little. "Clothes off," you finally said as you began to push Daichi's shorts down his legs, allowing better access to his cock and helping cool him off a little at the same time.

Following your lead, Daichi quickly pulled your shorts and underwear down as well, leaving himself completely nude and you in only your sports bra.

For the next five minutes or so, the two of you laid on the floor—which was no longer very cold at this point—and worked each other toward orgasm while panting heavily and staring into each other's eyes. If the whole ordeal hadn't been so hot and slightly uncomfortable, it might have even been a tad romantic.

Faces inches apart, the two of you laid completely still aside from your hand movements and occasional buck of the hips when the need for more friction was too much to handle. Despite how much you wanted to kiss Daichi, and how much he probably wanted to kiss you, the two of you had to stay separate in favour of allowing your mouths to draw in deep breaths.

"Close," you managed to choke out as you felt the familiar tensing sensation in your core from the constant fingering and clit stimulation. "Gonna cum."

"Me too," Daichi breathed out. "Fuck, want you to come around my cock so badly. Need more of you."

You nodded. "I want more."

Without warning, Daichi sat up, pulled you into his lap, and positioned your aching cunt over his toned thigh. "Ride my thigh, baby," he told you, arms wrapping loosely around your waist. Almost instantly, the skin-on-skin contact was too much to handle. You knew you would overheat soon but you did as he instructed anyway, the orgasm you were chasing making your brain fog up and your discomfort from the heat to suddenly not matter nearly as much as it had.

With your hand still pumping Daichi's cock, pushing him closer and closer to his own release, you began to grind your pussy against Daichi's thigh—a thigh you had had between your legs countless times before and still somehow had yet to use it in such a dirty way—the way you were quickly starting to believe it was meant for all along.

Thanks to the juices dripping from your pussy and the sweat that had accumulated on Daichi's legs, you were able to glide back and forth across his hard muscles with ease. When you felt that same sensation return, only this time much stronger than before, you threw every last ounce of energy you had left into your thigh riding and clung to Daichi like your life depended on it, completely ignoring the fact that his skin felt like it was on fire when you touched him.

"That's it," Daichi growled, head thrown back, indicating he was close as well. Tightening his hold around you and squeezing your ass with his hands, he pushed and pulled you against his thigh. "Ride my thigh just like that. Fuck. I'm gonna cum."

You nodded lazily in agreement, unable to form words with just how out of breath you were. As soon as Daichi let out a low grunt and you felt hot liquid spill onto your hand, you pressed your clit down hard onto his thigh and forced your own orgasm to wash over you as well.

Hips stuttering as your walls clenched around nothing, you fell limp in Daichi's arms as your high engulfed you before slowly releasing you seconds later.

As soon as the two of you had stopped shaking and your brain fog had cleared, you were thrown back into the reality of just how fucking hot the apartment was, and how much hotter it was holding each other, and promptly untangled your limbs and pushed away from one another.

"Cold shower," Daichi mumbled as he stared down at the cum he had painted his own stomach with. "I feel like I'm burning."

Reduced to a puddle of sweat and bodily fluids on the ground, you nodded in agreement. "Cold shower," you repeated.

Daichi, who had previously looked miserable in his post-orgasm clarity due to the heat, suddenly chuckled. "Why didn't we just have sex in the shower in the first place?"

You just shrugged. "Round two? This time without the danger of human combustion."

Daichi smiled wide. "I have a feeling we are going to be spending the rest of the night in that shower," he paused and his smile turned into a devilish smirk, "and I'm going to be spending the rest of the night in you."

[knchins]

Kuroshiro - Chapter Seven

Summary: Hayami and Suguru were teenagers in love until the day came when he decided to turn his back on the sorcery world and become a curse user, which left his best friend Satoru to pick up the pieces.

Pairing: Geto x Fem OC x Gojo

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Major manga spoilers, blood, mentions of sexual assault, vomiting, minor character death, kidnapping

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Chapter Seven - Curtain Call

October 31st, 2018 - 10:00 AM

Haya was sitting in Shoko’s office, having not felt well the past few days. There had been a stomach bug going around and it would seem that she was the last one to catch it. As annoying as it was, it did give her an excuse to take a break from all the work she had been doing. Between back-to-back missions, taking care of Miyu, and juggling a tumultuous relationship with Gojo, it was safe to say that she was beyond exhausted. 

Truth be told she probably wouldn’t be very helpful on the field right now, not unless there was an emergency. While cursed activity had gone up since the death of the suspected mole - Kokichi Muta, otherwise known as Mechamaru - most of it seemed like unorganized attacks rather than the works of some higher power. 

“I think you’re right, Kuroishi, it’s just that virus that’s going around. However, I want to take some bloodwork just in case. You’re overdue for a physical anyway.” Shoko said as she motioned for Haya to follow her into the neighboring lab. Because not many people knew the existence of curses, there wasn’t exactly a full team of phlebotomists and nurses. Shoko ended up doing most of the work herself, which led to the dark bags under her eyes. 

Haya sat down in a chair, laying out her arm so that Shoko could tie a tourniquet around her bicep. She uncapped a fresh needle and inserted it into the vein before drawing blood into a few tubes she had nearby, all labeled with Haya’s first and last name. 

Once done she put some gauze on the puncture wound and wrapped a bandage around it. “For now, just get some rest. Maybe make that boyfriend of yours help out with the kid for once.” Shoko joked as she discarded the used needle and set the blood tubes aside. 

“How is Yua doing?” Haya asked as she stood up. She rubbed her clammy forehead, feeling dizzy from standing up suddenly. “She seems better to me for the most part, but then again she never seemed to be dealing with grief in a normal way in the first place.” 

“She’s doing much better now that she and Fushiguro are together,” Shoko said with a tired smile. “I guess they worked through their problems.” 

“Good,” Haya said, putting her hand down. “I guess I’ll go back to bed. You’re right, I should take a break before this gets any worse.” She grabbed her hoodie, the one she only wore when she felt like crap and put it back on. She gave Shoko a small nod and Shoko waved back as she left. 

Haya promptly made it back to her room before collapsing onto the bed dramatically. She managed to grab her phone and shoot a text to Miyu to let her know that she could have the day off since she wasn’t feeling too well. Miyu replied saying she’d make her some soup and told her to rest. 

October 31st, 2018 - 7:00 PM

Of course, on a day she was feeling like she had been hit by a train, there would be a city-wide emergency. Haya had woken up from her phone ringing and was regretting ever answering it. Principal Yaga had informed her that two mysterious curtains had appeared in Tokyo. The outer one was allowing humans and sorcerers to enter, however, humans could not leave. The inner would not let sorcerers inside. Worst of all, everyone trapped inside was crying for Gojo Satoru to help.

It smelled like a trap. She knew Gojo was capable of handling many things. He was the most powerful thing on the planet. He had destroyed most of the cursed tools that could be used against him effectively, but surely there had to be something still out there that could be used.

Currently, she was with Miyu on the sidelines, not far from Nanami and his group. Miyu didn’t bother to hide how worried she was about her mom, though Haya felt better now than she did that morning. Haya was growing more and more impatient at Gojo, taking his time to get there. Though it was likely he was just trying to assess the full situation first before going in. 

It wasn’t until an hour and a half later that he finally arrived. “Good luck kiss?” He asked with a morose smile. He was clearly trying to force himself to be upbeat, but even he could tell that something bad was looming on the horizon. 

Haya forced a smile before kissing him lightly, Miyu turned away in an attempt to not gag. “Be safe,” Haya said. 

“You’re not worried about me, are you?” Gojo teased before kissing her forehead. He made a face at how warm her skin felt. “I’ll be back in no time.” 

He left them both to step into the barrier and deal with whatever it was inside that wanted him so badly. That feeling of unease in the pit of her stomach began to grow exponentially as he disappeared from her sight. She didn’t know if it was from the nausea she was feeling or if something big was about to happen, but either way, there was no way this day was going to end without a few casualties. 

Not long after Gojo had left, Haya was approached by a manager who gave her the rundown of what the plan was. Different teams of sorcerers were going in the first barrier to finding the curse user that was putting up the inner one that kept all other sorcerers out. Haya was reluctant to let Miyu go in but knew that there wasn’t much of a choice. There were a lot of lives at stake and without knowing what the final goal was, they needed to act as swiftly as possible. She also needed backup and while most teams were in groups of three, theirs was only the two of them due to a shortage of sorcerers. She figured members of her family were here somewhere as well and she hoped that she didn’t run into them during the chaos. 

She hadn’t spoken to her brother since that day at the ramen shop. In fact, she hadn’t spoken to any of them. She had cut off all contact as a form of self-preservation. There was no chance in hell that she was even going to attempt to kill Itadori, even if it meant putting her life on the line to protect him. Fortunately, there had yet to be an attempt on her life though she often felt followed when she was away from the high school.

Once inside the outermost barrier, it seemed that curse after curse had appeared inside the once peaceful perimeter. Not just low-level ones either, but those capable of speech that Haya hadn’t actually come across before until now. She’d be lying if she said they didn’t scare the hell out of her. For once in her life, she let her fear fuel her need to destroy them and for the first time, Miyu saw the brutal and violent force that was Kuroishi Hayami. 

Despite her illness, she managed to exorcise curse after curse. Even ones that normally would have given her trouble seemed to not be much of a match. Haya was focused on one thing and one thing only: keeping her daughter safe. 

Miyu had known her mother was strong, she had felt it the day that they first met. Though she had not known she was capable of the technique she had seen Itadori use that night fighting those humanoid curses by the bridge. Black flash was supposed to be incredibly difficult to achieve, yet it was undeniable that that’s what the black slashes she was seeing appear during her mother’s swings at curses that were saying nonsense things to her. 

Miyu had gained her own strength as well. She was taking out lower-level curses and transfigured bodies left and right using her own cursed technique. Eventually, they crossed paths with Nanami and Fushiguro’s team, who seemed to haven’t been fighting quite as long as they had. 

Meanwhile, deep inside the station, Gojo had just canceled his domain expansion, finishing off as many curses as he could without harming any of the humans crowded nearby. It was only for less than a second, but it was enough to clear out all of the weaker opponents that had surrounded him. 

A strange cube landed in front of him and the undeniable voice of someone who should be very much dead could be heard, “Prison realm open.” 

The cube split into four corners all connected by a fleshy center. An eye opened, setting its sights on Gojo, and just as he was about to run he heard that voice again. “Yo! Satoru!!” He turned confused, eyes widening at the sight of Geto Suguru. “It’s been a while.” The man said and Gojo was frozen in place in shock. 

He had to be a fake, right? There was no way Suguru had survived the night parade of a hundred demons. It was impossible, he had made sure he was dead. Was it some kind of transformation technique? No, his eyes were telling him otherwise. The six eyes could see through any transformation technique and this was certainly not one. Suguru’s body was standing before him and memories of them together flooded his brain. 

A minute passed and suddenly he was being absorbed into the contraption before him. He cursed under his breath, struggling to get free though he had an inkling that it was impossible. His thoughts turned to Haya. What would she do when she saw him? Would she run to him? Join him? Kiss him? Gojo’s blood boiled, they had been doing so well lately and this was all it would take to end them for good. 

“C’Mon now, Satoru. Are you letting your mind wander during a fight? Thinking about that pretty girlfriend of ours?” Pseudo-Geto asked with a happy grin. 

“Who are you?” Gojo asked, praying his eyes were betraying him for once. Please just this once let him be wrong. 

“Geto Suguru, of course. Did you forget? How sad.” He replied with a fake frown. 

“Your body…and even your cursed energy…my six eyes tell me you’re Geto Suguru. But my soul knows otherwise. Hurry up and Answer!! Who the hell are you?!” He shouted, his anger raging even more as he struggled to move, sinking further into the trap of the cube. 

Geto popped off the top half of his skull and scalp, “Yeesh! How did you know?” The talking brain inside the skull quipped. He explained his cursed technique of switching bodies and taking on the technique of the person before. 

Gojo instantly realized the mistake he had made of not cremating his best friend’s body after death. Haya had begged and pleaded for it to be done. He even knew that it should be been destroyed but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Now this thing, person, whatever it was, was inside of him. 

“Don’t worry, the seal will be over soon enough. In a hundred…no maybe a thousand years. In the meantime, I’ll make sure to keep Hayami company. The memories of them together, fucking in an abandoned building, oh I can’t wait to have that delicious body back underneath me.” He looked blissful, a cruel smile on his lips. 

“She would never.” He hissed, though he wasn’t entirely sure if that were true or not. “She’ll know. She’ll know you’re not him.” 

“I never said it’d be consensual,” Kenjaku said, his wickedness showing in full force as Gojo struggled once more to get free. If not to save himself then to save the woman he loved from whatever fate this monster had in store for her. 

“Nanamin!” Yuuji’s loud yell suddenly cut through all conversation, they had begun to theorize what was going on but didn’t have time to talk much until they were interrupted. “Nanamin, are you there?” He yelled again. 

Yuuji didn’t wait for a response before calling out again, “Gojo-sensei was sealed!!” 

The words hit Haya like a brick wall. Who had managed to seal the greatest sorcerer in all of Japan? She faltered, panic racing through her that she may have just seen him for the very last time. Dizziness swept over her before she managed to regain her composure. “Kento, watch Miyu.” She said hastily before sprinting in Yuuji’s direction, not giving them time to try and stop her. 

Miyu was also in shock, watching her mother go off on her own had her even more worried and scared. Could she be sealed as well? What would happen to her if something happened to Haya? Would she be taken back to America? She looked up at Nanami with a concerned look. “We must join Itadori at once.” He said in a serious voice, “If this sealing is true it’s all over for all humans in the country.” 

Haya managed to find Itadori before the others, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, despite being shorter than him. “Where?!” She demanded, “Where is he?!” 

“B5F,” Itadori said, a little bewildered, “but, sensei, there’s something you should know first-” 

Haya didn’t give him a chance to finish as she sprinted towards where Gojo might possibly be. She was praying to anyone listening to let him be freed, to give him the ability to get out of it somehow. She had no idea what he had been sealed with, was there really something out there strong enough to contain him? 

Yuuji frowned, knowing something even worse would happen if Haya found out who had sealed Gojo. While it wasn't truly Geto it was still his body. He only knew bits and pieces of what happened last December, but none of what he had heard was good. There was a chance she might not make it out alive either. His thoughts quickly moved to his girlfriend, he needed to get to her before she went after her mother too.

Haya fought curse after curse. There seemed to be a never-ending stream of them. Not only that but she kept getting lost in the large complex of the train station. It was when she came across a special grade in the vague shape of a human woman did she stop. “He’s looking for you.” It said cryptically. 

Who? She wanted to ask, but her fear was caught in her throat. Not fear of the curse but fear of Gojo being lost forever. Fear of never seeing him again. Never touching him again. Never growing old with him. She wanted to cry and scream and cry some more but there wasn’t any time. She had to get to him, she had to save him. There was no time….

“Get out of my way.” She practically growled, aching fists shaking. Her tekko had absorbed so much cursed energy that they were getting harder to hold. They felt heavier in her hands, rough blisters forming on the pads of her palms. She regretted bringing out black flash so early in the game. It had worn her down much faster. Even worse she felt like she may have the beginnings of a fever as well. It was harder to catch her breath and her heart was hammering away without slowing down.

“You’re sick.” The curse said, observing how Haya was swaying in place, her stance increasingly unsteady. It didn’t sound concerned, rather more curious. “He’ll be here soon.” 

Haya let out a scream of frustration before swinging a punch at the curse’s face. Her fist phased through it as if it were made of smoke. She tried again only for the same thing to happen. With frustration, she sent black shadow spikes through it. Nothing seemed to hurt it. As if it wasn’t truly corporal. 

“I’m not supposed to harm you.” It said plainly, “the curses here aren’t a danger to you, Kuroishi Hayami. He wants you unharmed.” 

Haya wavered, having no earthly idea who she could possibly be talking about. What did a curse user want with her? She wasn’t strong enough to take on special grades and she had no doubt that this user was of that level. Especially since he sealed away Gojo. “Who.” She said, aggravated and too tired to waste more energy on fighting something that wasn’t even attacking her. “Who wants me unharmed?” 

“Geto Suguru.” The curse said, though knowing it was truly someone else inhabiting Geto’s body. She simply did as she was instructed to do. “He’s here.” She whispered before finally disappearing. 

The tekko slid from Haya’s hands, clattering on the ground loudly as she heard footsteps behind her. With wide, terrified eyes she turned around to see the towering figure behind her, looking just as she remembered only with a stitched line across his forehead. 

“Hello, Tsubaki.” He said, with a twisted smile before her world went black.

October 31st, 2018 - 10:00 PM

Miyu along with Nanami, Maki, and Naobito were all walking through Shibuya station when they came across two signature knuckle dusters laying on the ground along with a splatter of blood. The younger girl gasped before picking up the tekko she knew to belong to her mother. Tears filled her eyes as she called out for her helplessly. 

The amount of blood left behind wasn’t a deadly one but it was still alarming. “Nanami?” She asked in a panic, though she was quickly feeling herself starting to shut down. Gojo was sealed and her mother was missing in action without her most beloved weapons. “We have to find her.” 

Nanami had a sinking feeling that he already knew where she was or rather who she was with. He placed a heavy hand on Miyu’s shoulder, “We’ll find her…I promise.” 

Miyu knew he was lying. She didn’t know how to explain it. Was it the look on his face or just the gravity of the situation? All she knew for sure was that the one person in the entire world that loved her the most was gone and with that, the world came crashing down around her. 

Notice from Jujutsu Headquarters

1. Geto Suguru’s survival has been confirmed, and he has been sentenced to death again.

2. Gojo Satoru has been deemed an accomplice in the Shibuya Incident and is thus permanently exiled from the Jujutsu world, furthermore, removing his seal will be considered a criminal act.

3. Kuroishi Hayami has also been deemed an accomplice in the Shibuya incident and is thus sentenced to the death penalty. 

4. Yaga Masamichi shall receive the death penalty for inciting Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru and causing the Shibuya Incident. 

5. The suspension of Itadori Yuuji’s death sentence is revoked and the execution is to be carried out immediately. 

6. Special Grade Sorcerer Okkotsu Yuuta is appointed Itadori Yuuji’s executioner.

November 1st, 2018 - Time Unknown

Haya awoke to blindness in a pitch-black room. There was a thin strip of light coming from underneath a door frame, but it was not enough for her to see from. The windowless room smelled like a dank basement, and she figured she must be somewhere underground.

She was upright, her wrists and ankles were chained to an X-cross. Cold air brushed along her bare skin and flashes of that strange smile she had seen on her ex’s face came to mind. 

Everything came rushing back, Gojo being sealed, Shibuya being under attack, and suddenly she was throwing up all over herself. There was nothing on her stomach, the watered-down acid slid down her nude form slowly. It was slimy and putrid and almost made her puke again. 

She could tell her hands were swollen. The blisters had popped and were oozing. She cursed at herself for dropping her weapons, for letting that…that thing attack her. It couldn’t be Suguru. How could it possibly? She had watched him die. It was his cursed energy,  but it was something different, something terrible. 

Haya did her best to mentally prepare herself for whatever was to come. In the darkness, there were no shadows to teleport through. Even if there were, she was much too drained from fighting so much earlier to use it. She also had to know where she was going or else she was liable to end up somewhere even worse off. 

She had to find a way out, she just had to. And after that, she’d do everything in her power to free Gojo from his seal. It had to have been Pseudo-Geto. He had to have caught him off guard somehow, made him falter just long enough to become ensnared. That curse she had seen before he had attacked her had been so strange…

Tears dripped off her chin as she came to the realization that no one would know where she was. No one would be coming to save her. The only person strong enough to take on Geto was Gojo and he was gone. Her thoughts turned to Miyu, was she even okay? Did she make it out alright? Was Nanami taking care of her as he promised her he would? 

Maybe he’d come. He’d somehow track her down. Nanami Kento was her only hope. 

Miyu was empty. She felt like an old discarded seashell that had been washed over by wave after wave of grief and loss. She had watched as the man who promised to get her mother back was half-reduced to ash. She watched as sorcerer after sorcerer fell victim to either curse or curse user. There seemed to be so few people left unharmed. 

Kuroishi Hayami had been branded a traitor and had been sentenced to death. Miyu had no idea what would happen to her. She walked in silence along with Yuuji, Megumi, Yua, Yuuta, and Choso as they made their way back to the high school to try and find Master Tengen for answers. 

The few friends she had were with her, but she still felt a grave sense of abandonment. Yuuji had informed her that Pseudo-Geto had told them that she had changed sides. That her mother was now working for him. However, that just couldn’t be true, could it? Why would her mother leave her after promising countless times that she would never do such a thing? 

Her world was crumbling around her as she wondered who was next to leave her. Would it be Yuuji? Would he dump her and be with someone else? Would Yua find a new best friend? She felt cold as her thoughts turned back to how her mother had been sick the past few days. Was she even still alive? Was it possible that she was already dead by the man that was masquerading as her ex-boyfriend? 

“We have to save her.” She muttered out of nowhere. 

Yuuta, who she had only just met, looked at her with a sorrowful look. “No matter what that guy said, she would have never gone with him. Haya-sensei would never turn her back on us. Master Tengen will help us save Gojo-sensei and get your mom back.” 

Miyu stared at him, unsure of how he knew her mother so well. A small glimmer of hope sprouted in her aching heart. “You’ll help me?” 

“Of course, we’ll help you,” Yua said with a forced smile. “She’s our teacher too.” 

A sigh of relief left Miyu at the thought of not having to do this on her own. She didn’t think she was nearly strong enough to rescue her mother by herself, but maybe with the others helping her she just might be successful. 

“We’ll save them all then.” She murmured, “Tsumiki, Gojo-sensei and Hayami.” The other teens all nodded their heads in agreement, a new wave of strength washing over them. This nightmare wasn’t over yet, but they wouldn’t let the curse users win that easily. 

Soldiers, come quickly I feel the earth beneath my feetI'm feeling badly, it's not an attempt at decencyAnd if you're well off, well, then I'm happy some for youBut I'd rather not celebrate my defeatAnd humiliation here with you

Epilogue may be posted early! It will for sure be posted by Sunday, May 1st.

The conclusion to Kuroshiro I.

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Fan Behaviour

Author: Sheha Sidek

Artist: Scarlett Dixon

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Castiel / Dean Winchester Castiel / April Kelly (Minor) Castiel / Arthur Ketch (Minor) Dean Winchester / Lisa Braeden (Minor) Dean Winchester / Mick Davies (Minor)

Length: 20000

Warnings: Underage, Stalking, Harassment, Obsession,

Tags: Teen!DeanCas, Cas and Dean separated, Lovers to Strangers to Lovers, Pining,

Posting Date: October 26, 2021

Summary: Popular Novelist meets Tabloid Journalist. Dean Winchester loves digging up dirt on the rich and famous. So what if that person was an ex-boyfriend who left him ten years ago without a word? It’s a dog eat dog world out there, and Dean’s willing to do whatever it takes to get Castiel Novak to crack. All he needed to do was to keep his head on his shoulders and not fall for those damn blue eyes again. Castiel Novak has been through some shit in his life. Family drama. Separation from wife. Crazy stalker fans sending crap to his home address for no reason. And now his damn ex-boyfriend has turned up out of the blue in some obnoxious French restaurant at Sunset Boulevard. Cas knows Dean wants some kind of emotional payback for the hurt and humiliation he had to endure. Cas doesn’t mind. All that bluster, snide remarks and dark looks shot his way? That ain’t hate. That’s just fan behaviour.

Excerpt: “Relax. It’s not like I haven’t seen yours before,” Dean said with a dark chuckle. Cas cursed under his breath and tried to finish his business as quickly as humanly possible. Of course Dean had to choose the urinal right next to him, unzipping his jeans then grunting a little as he peed noisily against the white porcelain. “Fuck,” Cas whispered under his breath, shook himself dry, and quickly tucked himself into his pants. “Gotta wash those hands with soap, my friend. Don’t want your girlfriend to think you’re not big on hygiene, do you?” “She’s not my girlfriend,” Cas said in a temper, making a huge show of lathering his hands with soap, scrubbing them vigorously. Their eyes met in the mirror as Dean approached the sink to wash his own hands. “I don’t appreciate you making these insinuations, Dean. You may be used to scraping the bottom of the gossip barrel for your trashy newspaper - but I assure you, if you’re thinking of provoking some kind of reaction from me, you’d fail miserably. Dean snorted as he rinsed the lather off his hands. “Calm the fuck down, sweetheart. You're not as interesting as you think you are. Mick just wants to run a story with your actor bestie out there, so how about we remain civil until then, huh?”  Cas felt himself flush red.  Dammit.  \*\*\* Dean didn’t know why he pushed Cas that hard. Perhaps it’s the long-standing grudge he had against his once-boyfriend, but damn if Cas hadn’t grown some fangs since Dean last saw him. The Castiel Dean knew was soft-spoken, almost shy, and gentle. This… this was something else. To Dean’s dismay, he found that he liked this new part of Cas that doesn’t take shit from anyone - not even from Dean. “I know how to handle myself, Dean, thank you very much,” Cas snarked, “I wish I could say the same for you as well.”  “Hey, it was a surprise to see an old boyfriend popping up out of nowhere. It would have been nice to get a heads up years ago - before he dumped me and just fucked off into the sunset with a wife, but… no biggie right?” Dean said airily as he gazed at his reflection in the mirror, trying to fix his already immaculate hair. Cas looked so angry, running his hands through his hair multiple times till he resembled a very irate hedgehog.  “I did not dump you,” Cas gritted out, his voice dangerously quiet. Dean looked surprised for a few moments, looking over his shoulder to face Cas directly since the night began. “Say whatever you want, Dean, or think whatever you want of me - but you can’t say that I left you. I was forced to return to DC, and when I went back to look for you, you were gone. No one knew where you went. I looked everywhere. Asked everyone. You were just… gone.”

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