#but on the flip side a physical career would be so much more satisfying

[witchothewest]

What if I quit my office job got in shape and started a carpentry apprenticeship. haha just kidding :) unless

[trickphotography2]

'tis the damn season | Chapter 1

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Julie/Cece (OC, no physical description)

Word count: 3.8K

Synopsis: After six years away from home, Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin was finally going to make his parents happy and surprise his family by spending Christmas in Magnolia, Texas. Introducing his pregnant fiancee to his family is a culture clash, with rural Texas meeting California influencer. Though unhappy in his relationship, Jake knows he has to buckle down and do the right thing with a baby on the way.

The last person he expected to run into was his high school sweetheart and the one that got away, Julie.

The holidays are already going to be hard enough for Julie. Her home baking business, which had started as a fun side project, exploded after a few TikToks went viral. Just when she was getting the hang of juggling her job and business, tragedy struck. Facing her first Christmas as an orphan, the last thing Julie expected was to hear that once familiar nickname - Cece.

After almost a decade apart, Jake and Julie can't help but feel that old familiar spark. Even with the realities of their lives pressing in, they can't help but wonder what might have happened if just one of them had fought for their relationship all those years ago.

Master List | Ao3

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Chapter 1

“It’s so…flat,” Shayla frowned. 

“It’s Texas,” Jake shrugged, not taking his eyes off the road. A winter storm had blown through, delaying their flight and making the roads icy in the weak early morning sun. As usual, the streets further away from the city hadn’t been treated, and he’d already hit a couple of patches of ice. He only hoped that it would be better closer to home, but then again, rural Texas wasn’t exactly a priority for road treatment.

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t have gone to the Bahamas or somewhere warm,” she pouted. His grip tightened on the steering wheel, unwilling to engage in the argument that they’d had for the last few weeks. 

The engagement ring he’d bought sat on her left hand. It hadn’t been the one she wanted - he couldn’t justify spending $10K on a piece of jewelry, especially since they had a baby on the way - but still took a chunk out of his savings. Apparently, her followers had approved, even though Shayla had commented about it being the ‘starter ring.’

With a sigh, Shayla flipped down the visor and fixed her bangs before taking out her phone and checking the lighting. Apparently satisfied, she turned on the camera, starting to pose and make faces as she filmed before holding it higher and placing a hand on her stomach, ensuring her engagement ring was in the frame. “Say hi, babe,” she finally said, flipping the camera toward him. He glanced over, unable to muster a fake smile for her video. “Jake.”

“I’m concentrating,” he snapped. 

Her constant filming had been a novelty when they'd first started dating. She’d been trying to launch a career as an influencer, sharing dating experiences while doing her makeup or documenting her daily life. He didn’t exactly get the appeal, but whatever. As they got more serious, she roped him into more of the videos - at first, just glimpses of them working out together or in the car, then making dinner and going out. After he set the firm boundary that she couldn’t film nights out at the Hard Deck with the Daggers, which was an argument in itself, she refused to go. Instead, she tried to drag him to other spots. Eventually, Shayla caught the attention she was craving, and her follower list grew. With it came products that cluttered up her apartment and offers to appear at restaurants around California. 

The more her internet fame grew, the more Shayla pulled him into her videos. While drunk one night, she’d let it slip that her view rates skyrocketed when he made an appearance, and he tried not to read too much into it that she usually tried to have him half naked. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin wasn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination and worked hard to keep his body in top physical shape. He knew he looked good, but the muscles were born from long hours working on the ranch and later maintained for his job. 

For ten months, Jake had put up with it. A two-month deployment had prolonged the inevitable, but the final nail in the coffin had been the fact that Shayla barely seemed to care that he was gone until he was back and shoved a camera in his face while sobbing about how much she missed him. Back on land, he quickly scrolled through the videos she’d posted while he was at sea only to see that she’d screen-recorded their few calls and talked about how hard it was to be a military dependent. It was satisfying to see the military spouses in the comments tearing her apart about the fact that she wasn’t a dependent until she had a marriage license. 

He’d already planned on breaking up with her as soon as he got home but felt bad about doing it when she’d already planned a couples’ costume and lined up sponsors for her video. Finding her making out with someone else in the bathroom at a Halloween party after they’d had a quickie in the truck helped bolster his case for ending the relationship.  

Jake had thought that was the end until she showed up at the Hard Deck looking for him. When he’d brushed her off, she ambushed him at his apartment the next day and demanded to speak to him, throwing a positive pregnancy test in his face when he tried to close the door.

And with that, Jake knew he had to do the right thing. He would never abandon his kid, even if it meant trying to figure out how to fall in love with his now-fiancee. 

Snow covered the fields as Jake drove under the arch, announcing they’d reached the Seresin ranch. Cows meandered, and he couldn’t help but smile at the sight of the calves with knitted ear muffs courtesy of his mother. As a kid, it had been his job to check that the calves hadn’t managed to knock them off overnight before going to school. 

Since joining the Navy, Jake hadn’t spent as much time home as he should, according to his mother. Instead of returning to Texas, he took advantage of being able to travel cheaply on the military’s dime. So far, he’d made it to England, Italy, Spain, Morocco, Japan, and Korea. He sent souvenirs home to his parents, who weren’t quite sure what to make of their youngest. 

Bill and Kerry, proud owners of the Seresin Dairy and Horse Ranch and prouder parents to Bill Junior - who constantly reminded the family that he went by Will now - and Jake, had done what they could to support their sons. Will took after his father and wanted nothing more than to take over the ranch when the time came. Jake had fallen in love with flying after going up in the neighbor’s crop duster when he was eight, and his head had never left the clouds. Whenever they went into town, Jake would beg to stop at Magnolia’s little library to get books on aviation. As he got older, he devoured the biographies of the Wright Brothers, Charles Lindberg, Amelia Earhart, and military aviators turned astronauts. 

When the time came to apply for college, he drove his beat-up truck down to Lubbock, dressed in his Sunday best to meet with his congressional representative to request a nomination to the Naval Academy. 

Two months after graduating high school, Jake’s family drove him to the airport and wished him good luck. Plebe summer took all of his attention, and he could barely think about life outside the Annapolis campus, let alone what was happening at home. Days were spent learning the proud Naval traditions, military terminology, and expectations between physical training. Nights were spent with the other plebes, trying to keep their eyes open long enough to study. His two-week break at home was spent catching up on sleep and answering questions the few times he ventured into town. 

After his Third Class summer, it was harder to come home. Summers were spent at sea or sent to different bases. His Mama pushed for him to come home for the holidays, but between the flights and drive, it wasn’t always worth it. He started to spend time with his classmates whose families lived closer. Spring Break was spent at Myrtle Beach, relaxing in the freedom away from early morning classes and strict behavioral regulations.  

Christmas was when his father put his foot down - that was for the family. Come hell or high water, he expected his sons to be home. Will had no problem with it. He’d met his wife, Allison, while studying animal science at Texas A&M. Once she finished training as a large animal veterinarian, he moved back to Magnolia. After graduating from the Academy, Jake found it harder. As a single guy, he felt terrible about taking time off from aviators with kids who wanted to spend the holiday with them. So he didn’t ask for leave and spent the holiday getting dinner at the mess and calling his family, trying to ignore the sadness and resignation in his mother’s voice. 

Which is why this trip needed to be perfect. After six years away from home, Jake Seresin would finally make his parents happy and spend Christmas in Magnolia with a pregnant fiancee by his side. He owed it to his mother after putting her through so much disappointment. 

A beat-up red truck was out in the field, moving slowly as the herd followed, and Will pitched hay off the bed. His hand curled on the steering wheel, the phantom feeling of a pitchfork and a hand on his shoulder sneaking over him. “Steady, son.” His Pop’s voice echoed the words he’d said the first time Jake had taken over the job, nearly falling backward into the hay bales when Will hit a divot. 

“So you actually, like, grew up on a farm?” Shayla asked, nose scrunching the the loud mooing. 

“I told you I grew up on a ranch.”

“I thought it was horses or something.”

“We have those too.” An SUV was parked next to his Mama’s ancient truck in front of the house. Parking behind the truck, Jake took a moment to glance at himself in the rearview mirror. For all the reasons he imagined coming back to Magnolia, this hadn’t been one of them. Scrubbing a hand through his hair, he glanced over at Shayla, who studied the house. 

From an outsider's perspective, it looked pretty impressive. His grandfather - whom Jake was named after - had built it for his grandmother after they inherited the ranch. He could remember sitting on the wrap-around porch with his grandmother, snapping green beans and shucking corn for supper, listening to stories about the cowboys that used to work on the ranch. Every other summer would find all the Seresin boys, regardless of their age, painting Granny’s house a new coat of white. The upper floor had a breezeway connecting two of the six bedrooms, which Jake had used pretty often when sneaking out of the house once they moved from the foreman quarters into the main house when Pops inherited. 

Mama had decorated for Christmas. Garland was draped over the porch banisters, and lights and red ribbon wrapped around the posts. A wreath hung on the door, and lights hung from the roof. In every window, he could see the electric candles she would go room by room lighting. Of everyone in the family, she was the biggest fan of the holiday, lovingly bullying the men in her family to embrace the cheer. 

“Damn,” Shayla said. “I’ll get some awesome Christmas footage here.” Pressing his lips into a thin line to keep any unkind words from escaping, Jake flung open his door and quickly circled the rental to help her out. 

“Watch for ice,” he cautioned. A glimpse at her phone screen showed that she was already recording. “Could you put that away?” 

“I want to catch the first time I meet your parents.”

“Shay.” Scoffing, she rolled her eyes and reluctantly stopped. “Thank you.”

“Whatever.” Gritting his teeth, he turned on his heel and walked towards the house, automatically jumping over the creaky second step. Jake hesitated a moment at the door before raising his fist and knocking twice, then twisting the knob. It turned easily in his hand, and he pushed it open. “You’re just walking in? What if they shoot you?” Choosing to ignore her, he stepped inside his childhood home.

The smell of coffee and cinnamon washed over him, and he knew the family would already be on the second pot at this time of the morning. Pops and Will would have taken most of the first with them into the barn and fields, with Mama finishing it and starting the next before her chores. After kicking off his shoes and glancing at Shay to ensure she did the same, he walked the familiar path to the kitchen. 

Family pictures decorated the walls, and he let himself really look at them for the first time in ages. His grandparents stood proudly in front of the house, his parents' wedding photo. The first time he and Will were on a horse. Will and Ally’s wedding and his graduation from the Academy. 

“Where is everyone?” Shay asked as they stepped into the large kitchen. Like much of the house, it was clearly older but lovingly maintained. The coffee pot gurgled on the counter, and Jake made a beeline for it, retrieving a mug from the cabinet above. 

“Working somewhere. You want some?”

“No. Coffee’s not good for the baby.” Nodding, he poured himself a cup and tried not to think too hard about the coffee she’d demanded before getting on the plane in California. Spotting a tray of cinnamon rolls on the stove, he quickly retrieved a plate and cut one for himself. At his raised eyebrow, Shayla scrunched her nose and shook her head. 

The roll was fluffy and soft as he bit into it, quickly followed by the rich caramel icing. He moaned, not remembering his Mama’s cinnamon rolls being this good. After polishing off his first, Jake was halfway through his second when he heard voices from the back patio. Quickly, he set the plate down and stood beside Shayla, who looked up from her phone and smirked as he ran a nervous hand through his hair.

“You’ve got some icing,” she said, brushing the corner of his mouth as the back door opened. After licking the sugar from her thumb, her hand rested on his chest before he could step back.  

“Holy Mary, Mother of God - look what the cat dragged in!” his mother exclaimed. Jake turned to greet her but froze when his gaze landed on the woman standing behind her, a basket of eggs hanging limply from her hand. Her red-rimmed eyes widened as they darted between him and Shayla.

“Mama. Cece.” 

Nine Years Ago 

When Jake pictured his life imploding, he hadn’t imagined it so… quiet. 

Cece sat beside him on the couch, gaze lowered as she fiddled with the engagement ring he’d slid onto her finger at his Academy graduation, dropping to one knee on the field and asking to be her husband before disappearing into flight school. The replacement for the class ring he’d put on her finger before he left her in Texas at 18 with a promise of forever. 

He’d naively hoped that they could push off this conversation, give it some more time to figure out how to be with one another again. To set up their home in Virginia as he navigated being a Naval Aviator and she tried to find her footing in a new town. That they could go back to how easy it was before spending the last five years apart. “Jake,” she sighed.

“Don’t.” Resignation was etched in her features when her eyes met his, and he hated it. 

“We - ”

“Please, Cece.” Her eyes closed, and she took a deep breath, lips pressing into a thin line as her chin wobbled. 

“Are you happy?” she asked after a long time. “Be honest.”

“Yeah. I’m happy you’re here. That we’re finally together. Are you?”

“I… I don’t know.” Those three little words felt like a blow to the chest, and Jake inhaled sharply. “I just… this doesn’t feel…”

“Like before.” She nodded, and he deflated. “I know.” Relief flooded her face, and her shoulders sagged as though a huge weight had been lifted. 

“I thought it was just me.” 

“No, Cupcake. Not just you.” Tears flooded her eyes, and she gave him a watery smile. “It’s only been two months. We just need some time to figure out our new normal.” 

“How much time are we supposed to give it?”

“I dunno. More than two months.” 

“Three years?” Unable to meet her gaze, his eyes dropped to watch her twist the ring. “I think we can both admit that things have been hard for a while. And that we got used to being apart from each other.” 

“We can get used to being together again.” At her silence, he reached out and caught her hand, gently tugging her across the couch. Reluctantly, Cece let herself be drawn closer and settled in his lap, knees digging into the cushions at his hips. His hands slid up her thighs to wrap around her waist. “I love you, Julie.” 

Her name on his lips sounded so foreign. To everyone else, she was Julie. She’d only been Cupcake or Cece after making Jake a birthday treat in eighth grade, carefully packaging it in her lunch box to present him at school. Always seated next to each other in class, it had been hard to avoid the Seresin boy. 

If she looked closely, Julie could still see traces of that farm boy she’d grown up with in the man she loved. There was still a mischievous glint in his green eyes and dimples that she took pride in making appear when he smiled. He was still awake at first light and a wicked tease.

But those glimpses were rare. Jake had told her that his first few years as a junior officer would be busy, but she hadn’t expected to see so little of him. She made an effort to get up with him before work and then settled in to job hunt or wedding plan while he was gone. After work, he either wanted to go to the bar with the other young pilots, or he was too tired to do more than shower, eat, and collapse into bed. Simply put, this hadn’t been the life Julie imagined while living alone in Austin for a year after graduating from the University of Texas, waiting for him to finish flight school. While her friends had moved on to careers, marriages, and grad school, she waited.

Just like she always had. 

When Jake got into the Naval Academy, he’d explained that cadets couldn’t be married. And at 18, she wasn’t ready for that commitment. So instead, he’d put his class ring on her finger and promised they would get married as soon as he graduated. For four years, she’d worn the ring on a chain around her neck and tried to push away her jealousy, watching her friends spend time with boys and having fun in the clubs. A small part of her had always felt guilty when a man had pressed against her while dancing, his hands holding her tightly and asking her to come home. Every night she went home alone, she reminded herself that four years was nothing in the face of forever. 

Their weeks together felt like stolen time - spring breaks in South Carolina, a few weeks during the summer, and Christmas in Magnolia. And just when the end was in sight, Jake came home for Christmas his last year of school and told her he’d been accepted into the pilot program. “It’s just another year and a half after graduation,” he’d explained. And when she asked where he’d be living, he couldn’t meet her eyes while explaining that he would be moving to different bases every few months, so it didn’t make sense for her to come with him. 

“Cupcake?” Jake said softly, pulling her from her thoughts. He gently ran a knuckle along her jaw, paying particular attention to the scar on her chin, earned when she slipped on a patch of black ice and fell face-first into his truck junior year of high school. They’d spent a few hours in the emergency room, his bloody shirt pressed to her face until she got stitched up. 

“If I said I wanted to get married today, what would you say?” Julie asked. Try as he might to hide it, she caught it - that brief flicker of panic in his eyes before it disappeared.

“What about the wedding?” It was his turn to catch the flash of irritation before her expression smoothed. The wedding had been a point of contention for a while - Jake knew that she wanted his input, but he’d never been interested in party planning before. 

“I said married, not the wedding. Would you marry me today?” There was a moment’s hesitation before he nodded. 

“Of course. I love you.” A sad look crossed her face before Julie cupped his cheek and gently kissed him. 

“I love you too. And I always will. But I-I don’t know if that’s enough.” Jake pulled back.

“What?” he demanded, fingers digging into her hips, hit with the irrational fear that she would run if he let her go. Her glistening eyes met his for a moment before darting away.

“I love you so much,” she said softly. “And I have since you kissed me under the mistletoe at the winter formal. But I am so, so lonely.” Tears slipped down her cheeks as her voice broke, and he felt his heart fracture. “I moved here for you, to a place where I don’t know anyone and barely see you. And I sit in this house all day and think about my life in Texas, where I missed you, but I was happy. I had a life and friends, and I could see my daddy whenever I wanted. And I missed you, but missing you has been my normal since high school. I love you, and I have put my life on hold for almost six years because I love you. And I was happy to do that so you could chase your dream. B-but…I didn’t realize that I was giving up my life and my dreams because of a promise we made when we were 18.” 

“Cece,” Jake breathed, tugging her closer as she started to sob, tears soaking his uniform's shoulder. “Tell me how to fix this.” At that, she cried harder, and he felt the numbing realization that there was nothing he could do. 

Cece lifted her head from his shoulder when her tears faded into hiccups. His green eyes were reddened when she cupped his damp cheeks. The taste of salt and sadness merged when their lips brushed. “I’m sorry,” she breathed. 

“Me too. I-I want you to be happy, baby.” 

Which was why he didn’t fight her. He helped her pack up the car a week later, forced the engagement ring she tried to return back into her hand, and kissed her one last time. And then watched as she drove out of his life. 

Then, Jake realized how hard it was to be the one left behind while the person you loved chased their dreams. 

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Author's note: Welcome to my angsty holiday fic! A major thank you to @mamachasesmayhem for letting me bounce ideas off of her for this story, and being such a lovely cheerleader ❤️

Read Chapter 2

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Taglist: @mamachasesmayhem; @buckysteveloki-me; @fanficfandomlove; @maeleeme; @djs8891; @kmc1989; @justenoughmadness

[carnivorousyandeere]

Astrology and Palm-Reading With the Werewolf Pack

CW: drug mention, fighting mention

Gift for my beloved Mazzy dear~💕 Mwah mwah 😘

(Also I didn’t realize that hand shapes are considered to be connected to astrology! Hence why some ideas for their charts are included 💜)

Mateo

I think Mateo would have prominent placements in Gemini and Leo~

Mateo smiles when you take his hands in yours to examine them. They’re moisturized and soft from perfumed lotion. His hands are proportionate with the rest of him, being on the smaller side, but more masculine in shape than you’d first realized.

His nails are short, but painted in spring pastels with little butterflies— obviously Hana’s work. You can’t help but smile at that as you flip his hands over. His palms are a bit shorter compared to his fingers, very airy in shape.

The lines on both palms are as close to symmetrical as it gets. You trace the shapes of the lines, explaining the meanings of each. Life lines not too close or far from the thumbs, and not too round or straight— an indication of fairly steady, decent health. You trace the life line down to his wrist, where the money line connects; this connection is an indication of Mateo’s confidence and ambition.

Running across the money line is the head line, long and rounded— it seems Mateo’s got some creative instincts. You can feel Mateo’s hand shift in yours at that, excitement making it hard for him to sit still. Above that, closest to the fingers, are his love lines.

They’re a bit wiggly, up and down rather than smooth arcs, with some small lines through them in places. He’s not quiiiiite satisfied with his love life just yet, and has a tendency towards nonmonogamy. Mateo smirks at that, looking up at you from under his lashes and flipping your hands, running his fingertips up your wrist and forearm.

“How could I be dissatisfied with my love life when I’ve got you, precious~?”

Hana

I think Hana also has prominent Leo placements, although “bashful,” isn’t a word you hear very often in association with the sign~ the rest of her chart might mitigate the sun’s intensity?

Hana stares at her hands in yours, expression caught between flustered and genuinely curious as you examine them. Her hands are warm in yours, and you spot Mateo’s handiwork in her painted nails.

Hana sheepishly explains that he talked her into growing them out long enough to make tapered oval shapes, and that they’re painted in Mateo’s favorite blood-orange shade. They look nice.

Her hands are classic fire-sign hands, with longer palms and shorter fingers. You can’t help but poke at her palms, though— they’re so much softer and squishier than you expected! She pouts at that a little bit.

You decide to move on, pointing out the way her life lines are shorter and more horizontal, with some circles and breaks, paralleling the head lines. She’s brave and outgoing, but also injury-prone…

“Whaaat! Come oooon, I’m not that clumsy.” The array of various joint braces in the back of her closet would beg to differ, but you decide not to say so.

Her heart lines aren’t too round or straight, and are fairly long, indicating a steady kind of love. Hana’s expression softens a little at that.

Her money line isn’t connected to her life line, and it’s broken into segments— looks like she’s got a lot of different talents, and could switch careers a few times~!

Lastly, are her head lines. More wiggly than round, and a little on the shorter side, Hana’s got both creativity and physical prowess, but perhaps her attention and memory aren’t the best?

Hana pouts again at that, pulling her hands back and crossing her arms over her chest. “I can remember anything! As long as it comes to you…”

“Huh?”

“Nothing…”

Cyrus

Cyrus is the most water sign person I’ve ever seen, I would bet money on him having stelliums in both Pisces and Cancer, if not a few planets or asteroids in Scorpio too 💀 (maybe a few planets in air signs as well)

Cyrus places his hands in yours hesitantly. He’s not entirely convinced about the validity of palm-reading, but then again, he didn’t think werewolves were real just a year ago…

Your touch is gentle, but the way you drag your fingertips over his skin makes him shiver ever so slightly. His hands are beautiful, albeit bony and… a little clammy.

His hands have “water sign,” written all over them— long palms, long fingers, and delicate wrists. You trace over his life line, long and broken up into many smaller lines as it nears the small web between thumb and forefinger.

“So… I’ll have a long life?” He asks, voice carefully neutral.

“Ah, well, I sure hope so~” you reply. “But the length of the life line doesn’t actually mean anything about how long you’ll live, it’s more about health. See here?” You point at the scattered side of the line. “This says you were sickly as a child,” you trace the line down further towards his wrist where it’s singular and clear, “but now your health is more stable, right?”

He hums in acknowledgment. You’re not entirely wrong, although privately he wonders if this line is supposed to account for mental health as well.

His love lines are short and straight, but start between the middle and ring fingers— he falls in love faster than he lets on, and has a tough time expressing it.

“And here,” you trace his head lines— long and unbroken, they betray a deep creativity.

It’s easy to miss the way his cheeks darken ever so slightly, avoiding your gaze when you look up at him.

Ace

Ace definitely has both Aries and Scorpio placements.

Ace grins when you ask to read his palm. “If you wanted to compare hand sizes, you coulda just said so.”

He laughs when you get flustered, protesting that you weren’t trying to flirt.

“Okay, okay,” he holds his hands out to you, laugh catching in the back of his throat as you take his hands in yours.

You pretend not to notice the way he swallows when you look closer at his hands, your breath fanning over them slightly. Hah. Payback.

You do try to be gentle in your examination— he’s got some still-raw scratches and bruises on his knuckles from his last scrap after all. The veins on the backs of his hands are prominent, and his palms are a little longer compared to his fingers. His fingers are scarred, probably from fights again, and his nails are short with chipped black nail polish.

Fairly fire-sign shaped, but not completely. You start near his wrist, where his life line and money line happen to connect. Confident, ambitious, rambunctious.

“Maybe a little too confident~?” You tease. He rolls his eyes, but can’t help smiling.

His life lines are strong, deeper— an indication of good health. You shake your head at that. It is a wonder how he’s pretty much always healthy and energetic, no matter how many fights and drugs he gets into.

You move onto his love lines— they’re different on each hand. His right hand, his non dominant hand, has a long and curved love line; indicative of having been born with a deeply romantic nature. On the left hand, the line is much shorter— somewhere along the way, he started to have a rough time expressing that initial romantic nature.

He pulls a hand away to scratch the back of his neck. “Aww, surely I’m not that bad at it. Right toots?”

“….Toots?”

Hunter

I can’t quite explain why, but I get Libra and Virgo placement vibes from Hunter.

You can’t help but feel a little shy under Hunter’s heavy, adoring gaze as you take his hands in yours. His hands are just as big and handsome as the rest of him, with neatly trimmed nails, square palms and long, strong fingers.

Somehow, you hadn’t quite expected his hands to be air-shaped… But, everything else made sense, with strong, symmetrical lines for both hands.

Long life lines, and good health, save one break; a hospital visit, or other big event?

Hunter nods.

His head lines are short, indicating more interest in physical activities than creative ones. His money line is short and straight; Hunter’s got one career, or one purpose in life to dedicate himself to. Hunter smiles at that, smiles at you, like you’ve hung the stars in the sky. You clear your throat, trying to stay focused.

His love lines are deep and strong, long and unbroken. “And, um… this means you’re a very steady and…. passionate lover…”

“Of course.” Hunter’s smile widens, gently grabbing your hand to cup his cheek and nuzzling into it.

Mason

The most Taurus and Capricorn person alive, probably 😂

Mason’s hands are what you expected— classic earth sign hands, strong, stout, and thick. His palms and fingers are both square-ish and on the shorter side compared to his body, but still big compared to yours.

Mason’s eyes crinkle at the corners, seeing how pretty your hands look holding his, tracing the callouses from years of work.

Your voice breaks his reverie, and his brow furrows, working to focus on what you’re saying rather than just the soothing lilt of your voice.

He’s got multiple money lines— many responsibilities, a lot of irons in a lot of fires. He hums. Sometimes it does feel like his work is never-ending.

His life lines are deep and round, though not super long, indicating moderate health.

His heart lines are very long, and deep, gently curved— he’s happy and consistent in his love life. His heart stutters in his chest as you trace those lines thoughtfully, looking up at him through your lashes.

He takes a deep breath, willing his heart to calm down, and asks you to tell him more about palm reading— and to let him read yours, too.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Fever Dream

(Written for @sicktember prompt #1 - Fever! I finished it in time for the first but didn't have the energy to edit.)

--

Angels didn’t get sick, precisely

They didn’t have bodies that were, strictly speaking, physical, and therefore couldn’t harbor any of the illnesses that plagued mankind and other earthly creatures.

An angel could, however, burn through enough of his own grace that his corporation began to malfunction.

He would then, as it were, fall ill.

This happened to Aziraphale far more often than to other angels.

A weak constitution was the general explanation; too much time mucking about on the strange old planet, not enough time bathing in the glorious healing light of the celestial sphere.

When he was down on Earth, he was always prying, poking, trying new things, many of which had never been approved, could have any manner of ill effects. He knew he should show some proper restraint, withdraw a bit more from the world, but he couldn’t help himself.

And when he did return to huddle miserably in a recovery ward, waiting for the chills to pass and his temperature to stabilize, Gabriel would always visit, dropping broad hints about the pressures of fieldwork and the under appreciated glory of a solid administrative career. Offering all kinds of advice as to what, exactly, a proper angel would cut out of his life if he wished to better focus on his ordained duties.

And so, when the symptoms next came upon him—muscle aches, irritability, sweat and chills until he didn’t know if he was hot or cold—Aziraphale decided to wait it out on Earth. It would only take a few days to recover and, anyway, he had business to attend to. Important business that could not wait.

“Angel, are you sure you’re alright?” Crowley demanded, a glint of gold just visible between black lenses and furrowed brow.

“Yes, I’m perf—” he turned his head to cough lightly, but an odd spasm came over his throat, transforming it into something deep and hacking that left his ribs aching and his brow dripping with sweat. “…tickety-boo,” he muttered, turning back to his mug.

“Keep it down,” hissed the demon, glancing around the common room of the inn. Perhaps one or two people had glanced over, but nothing out of the ordinary. “People will think you have the plague.” The last two words he barely mouthed.

“My dear fellow, do be serious. I have hardly any symptoms of the plague.” Only the last part sounded more like sybtobs otha blayyyg.

He cleared his throat and tried to sniff, which started a complicated chain reaction that ended with a mouthful of what he hoped was spit.

As Aziraphale’s eyes went wide with alarm, Crowley quickly pulled out a deep red handkerchief, which the angel gratefully spat into. Unsure what to do next, Aziraphale folded it over and offered it back, but Crowley leaned away, face contorted in horror.

“Oh, ah… thank you, then?” He took a quick glance inside and immediately wished he hadn’t, grimacing at the color of what his body had produced.

“Just… just eat your soup,” Crowley muttered, waving a hand at the bowl he’d been toying with until it was hardly above room temperature.

Aziraphale had ordered it thinking a bit of warmth would be lovely, as he’d been shivering fit for midwinter morning. But after one mouthful, he’d found himself sweating, tugging at his collar to relieve some of the heat. Now he could feel the shivers coming on again, but he couldn’t warm it back up. Until the illness passed, any miracles would just make it worse.

“Right,” Crowley said as Aziraphale poked at something that might have been a parsnip. “I’m going to be out of town for the next few weeks. Temptations all up and down the continent. Might take the rest of the season. Unless…” Using that lilting voice that suggested a coin flip might be imminent.

“Mmmh.” Aziraphale looked mournfully into his beer, finally hazarding another sip. The taste of hops struck him at the back of the throat and he quickly expelled the rest back into the mug. “Sorry, m’dear. Not this time. I got…” he waved his hand, waiting for the rest of the words. They didn’t appear to be forthcoming. “Things,” he finally said. “In the city. Until at least…” He rubbed his forehead, but it was hard to think when it was so cold. He pulled his heavy coat back on, bundling up.

“Oh, well. Things. Obviously can’t take you away from things.” Aziraphale nodded miserably, trying to focus on his bowl. “Angel, look,” and as Crowley leaned close, there was something new in his voice, something that sounded rather like concern. “You sure you’re alright? I mean, there’s nothing… nobody…”

Aziraphale blinked, his eyes feeling… sticky. What was Crowley getting at? He should really be more direct, clever Serpent, it was hard enough to think in all this heat. He struggled out of his coat, dabbing uselessly at the sweat on his forehead.

“Oh for Satan’s—are you cursed?” He hissed the last word even softer than he’d said plague.

“No,” the angel said, resting his head on his hand until his neck recovered enough strength to hold it up again. “M’not. S’just… things!”

In his attempt to gesture with both hands, Aziraphale forgot one was already occupied and very nearly wound up face-first in the soup.

“Azir—!” Crowley rounded the table in an instant, tugging him upright again. “What has come over you?”

“S’rry. People staring? S’not… not… proper.”

“Angel, you’re—you’re burning up!”

“Not. S’cold.” Then an icy hand touched his forehead and cheek, and Aziraphale groaned, trying to pull away.

“What the Heaven is going on?”

“Toldya. Things. Illness. From… from…” he tried to gesture with one arm, but it weighed too much to lift. “Being a… bad angel…”

A heavy sigh. “C’mere, you.” Crowley hauled him to his feet.

Aziraphale was pleased to find he could stand, just that his spinning head and aching limbs made it unpleasant. He couldn’t remember where he was supposed to go, but there was something solid nearby to lean on and a hand on his waist, guiding him forward.

It wasn’t until they reached the stairs that he realized something wasn’t right. “Crowley! This is—we—we can’t—where—what are you—”

“I’ve got a room upstairs.”

Aziraphale squinted dimly towards the upper floor. “Yes…?”

“Yes. And you, Angel, are in need of a bed.”

But.

But it was improper! Scandalous, even, talking of rooms, and beds, or rooms andbeds, or any combination thereof, particularly in the singular form. What if someone saw? An angel and a demon, bad enough, but two allegedly respectable gentlemen?

Or, wait, was one of them currently presenting as a woman? Likely not Aziraphale, though he sometimes lost track, but Crowley, well, that could also be hard to tell, but he seemed to have a good amount of jewelry and no facial hair, so there was a chance.

Still, male or female, angel or human, there would be rumor, gossip, talk about the town! It would get back to Heaven! This was worse than being thought weak and improper, Gabriel would think him some sort of reprobate!

Crowley paused, one hand on a door. “This is me. Um. I’ll go back down if it makes you feel better.”

What? And have all the rumor with none of the satisfaction? The shame of spending a night in a demon’s bed without the pleasures—oh, he knew what Crowley got up to. One of the Seven Sins that was, and Aziraphale would not be tempted into joining. No, not he!

“Right. Nh. Going to help you out of some of these layers, then I’ll go.”

Go? Go?After Aziraphale had come all this way, come so very close? No, he’d spent centuries imagining how it would be, and he’d never be truly satisfied until he had a reality to compare it to. Aziraphale very much wanted to know what Crowley looked like while he slept.

Yes, Crowley, Sloth is one of the Seven Sins, a demon should know these things.

And while Aziraphale had the general idea clear enough, he still had questions. Did Crowley snore, or did he breathe softly? He certainly would sleep on his side, curled up, but how heavy would his head be, pillowed on Aziraphale’s chest? If they talked, would his words become slurred as he drifted off, or would he listen quietly while Aziraphale spoke, running his fingers through bright red hair?

Come to that, how did his hair feel, or his cheek, or his lips? Aziraphale hadn’t thought much about lips, generally, but now that Crowley was always hiding his eyes, well, they had become the focus of his face, and that presented fascinating possibilities, ones that Gabriel certainly wouldn’t approve of, but he’d always been too curious for his own good. And really, what was a harmless little experiment between—

Oh, good Lord, was Aziraphale talking out loud?

He clapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide with horror.

But Crowley chuckled, resting a hand on his shoulder; in only his undershirt, he could feel it so clearly—ice cold, but not unpleasantly so. “Your secrets are safe, Angel. Lay down.”

Too embarrassed to object, Aziraphale crawled into the bed and let Crowley pull a blanket over him. “Keep that on, yeah?”

“S’hot,” the angel whined. His voice sounded very odd, slurred, weak. Perhaps that meant Crowley hadn’t understood his rambling before.

“I know. Just try.” Something cool and damp wiped his face and Aziraphale sighed with relief. “Has this happened before?”

“Mmmh. Over an’over an’over.” In Heaven, they would assign him a recovery room, to sit alone and reflect on what he’d done to earn himself the illness, on what he could do to better serve in the future. Gabriel always had good suggestions.

The being alone. That was the worst part. Hated that.

Crowley was talking. Something would be right there, beside the bed. That was probably important, but the angel was already asleep.

In Aziraphale’s dream, Gabriel told him over and over that he’d failed again, that this was his own fault, that he was a terrible angel who didn’t deserve… something.

Possibly anything.Again and again, the Archangel took everything he valued—his books, his sweets, his day at the theater, the beauty of the sunrise, the way humans smiled at each other after many days apart, and something else, something far more important, but the name was forbidden—

Again, something cool pressed to his forehead, his chest. Fingers raked through his hair, helping the sweat to evaporate. “See?” A voice murmured. “Better already.” But everything was getting grey and distant again.

Now Aziraphale was in a room, an enormous room, empty but somehow still cluttered. All the things he loved were here, hidden, and Gabriel ordered him to find them all or they’d be destroyed. He searched frantically, among endless piles of brown packages, and found most of them—books and smiles and sunrises—mixed in with kettles, mittens and (for some reason) cat whiskers. But the last thing, the final thing, the important thing was still missing, and the room grew hotter and hotter—

“Try this now.” Something supported Aziraphale’s back as he sat up, leaning against… a thing… a thing that meant warmth and safety. A mug pressed to his lips. He wasn’t sure what he drank, but it felt good. “Now let’s get you settled again.”

He didn’t go down easily, though, reaching and writhing, somehow grasping the safe thing, pulling it close. If he let it get away, Gabriel would destroy it.

“I see. Alright. You stay there.” Fingers through his hair again, more resting lightly on his shoulder. “I got you. Nothing’s going to—”

Reality tumbled away and he was falling, possibly Falling, the voices of Gabriel and Michael and Uriel all around him, insulting him, taunting him, asking him why he hadn’t filed form HX-3 in triplicate. He clung desperately to the thing he needed as the temperature rose, more voices joining in, every voice. The Hellfire licked at him, even as he trembled and shook uncontrollably. This was the end, he would die here, he’d never said—

“Crowley!” He called, desperate. “Crowley don’t—don’t leave me!”

The thing he held shifted, and now there were arms wrapped around him, protecting him. “There we are. Not going to leave.”

It was too hot to bear, but still he burrowed closer. “Crowley, please. I can’t—I—I need you!”

“Not going anywhere, Angel. Not ever.”

“Crowley!” The Hellfire burst within him, a flash of heat up and down his body, his limbs, his soul—

And then he was… exhausted.

The shaking faded, the heat and cold gone, though he still found himself covered in sweat. Nothing remained but a strange sense of calm.

Still clinging to his lifeline, Aziraphale drifted off into a proper restful sleep.

He opened his eyes to find the late evening sun slanting through an open window. The blanket was largely twisted around his legs and the bed below him was oddly hard and lumpy, even if it was nice—

“You’re looking better.”

Aziraphale scrambled up in horror to find that the thing he’d been laying on—clinging to for dear life—was six feet of rumpled, uncomfortable-looking demon. A demon he vaguely recalled saying some very revealing things to…

“Oh, good Lord.” Aziraphale’s face burned again, but not from fever. He covered, his eyes turning away. “Crowley—you—you—how—”

“Gah! M’sorry!” He heard Crowley push himself upright, sliding away. “I—I—I shouldn’t have—didn’t mean—”

No of course not. It wasn’t as though Crowley shared his strange desires, his secret obsessions, his awful curiosity. Crowley was a—a perfectly normal demon who would have no interest in prolonged contact, particularly with a most clingy, damaged angel…

“What must you think of me?” he moaned.

“Stupid, stupid demon,” Crowley grumbled. “I saw you panicking but I didn’t know—shouldn’t have assumed—”

“What is wrong with me?”

“Crossed a line, and—and now look—”

“I’m a terrible, foolish, needy…”

“Didn’t want to take advantage—I’m sorry!”

“I’m sorry! Wait…” That wasn’t right. Aziraphale cautiously lowered his hands to see Crowley sitting frozen with the glasses halfway to his face. “You’re sorry?”

“Mnh. Yeah. Cuz… cuz I’m the one who…” his eyes dropped. “You seemed upset. Scared. I just… I made it worse, didn’t I? Shoulda known you wouldn’t want…”

“But…” Aziraphale swallowed, trying to recall anything clearly. “I… I seem to remember… propositioning you. Repeatedly.”

Crowley’s face turned red, but he smiled. Not his confident swaggering smirk, but something awkward and genuine that Aziraphale hadn’t seen since Eden. “Not… repeatedly. N’I’d hardly call it… besides it was… you know. But!” His fingers twisted on the metal frames of his glasses. “But, look—I don’t—you aren’t responsible for—for the things you say when you’re sick, ‘specially things you don’t mean—and I—s’my responsibility not to—” He ducked his head even further. “Just wanted to help. Shouldn’t have assumed… that you meant… what I wanted…”

“What…” Aziraphale reached out but couldn’t quite touch him. “What you want?”

“Um.” Golden eyes flicked up. “You’re… not the only one who wondered about… the sleeping stuff. Who doesn’t like to be… alone.” He cleared his throat. “Or, at least, I thought—”

“I believe I told you I needed you.” His hand hovered over Crowley’s shoulder. “I meant that. Precisely the way you took it. I—I meant most of it.”

Crowley’s eyes blinked, very slowly.

And the next moment, they were swept into each other’s arms, Aziraphale once again clinging to his friend like a lifeline. “I don’t think you’re stupid,” he managed.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale pressed closer. “Thank you for staying.”

When they broke apart, Crowley was as bright red as Aziraphale had felt at the height of his fever, glasses back in place, staring fixedly at his own legs. “So. Mmmmh. Now what?”

Aziraphale considered that question more carefully than he’d ever considered anything.

“I think… I’m recovering…”

“S’good.” Crowley shifted as if to stand.

“…but still very tired. I should probably rest another night?”

“Yeah. Um. Yeah. Do you—I can go?”

“Do you have somewhere to be?” His heart started to fall, until Crowley shrugged.

“I do, but… not urgently.”

“If you have the time there’s… there’s something I’m curious about.”

“Well. Big fan of knowledge, me.”

Aziraphale carefully lay down again, keeping his arms wide. A moment later, Crowley took a deep breath, set aside his glasses and joined him.

It turned out that Crowley’s head on his chest was the perfect weight. That he did indeed curl up, though in the most convoluted ways. That in his sleep, Crowley’s breaths were gentle and soft, much like his hair, and he tried very much to keep talking on the edge of consciousness even when he didn’t have much to say.

As for the kissing, well—certain observations did not need to be made public.

(AO3 link later today...)

[rocorambles]

Timeout - Part 2

Pairing: Kageyama x Reader

Genre/Warning: Yandere, Unhealthily controlling behavior, Toxic Relationships, Isolation

Summary: Kageyama just wants to take care of you, so why won’t you just behave?

Requested by Anon

Part 1

You don’t see the basement ever again and your night there fades from your mind like a bad dream as Kageyama and you fall back into a comfortable cadence together. You love him with all your heart, you truly do. You love going on jogs with him even as your legs tremble from exertion and sweat glistens your brows. You love watching his eyes light up in excitement as he sets perfectly to Ushijima and turns to you with a wide grin on his face after his team scores a point. You love watching his brows wrinkle in concentration as he takes painstaking care to cook both of you a healthy meal. But even as you smile fondly at the sleeping figure next to you and trace random designs on his rising and falling chest at night when the two of you lay in bed, there’s a slight pang in your heart as your thighs clench and you wistfully think of the last time the two of you had made love. It seems so long ago and you can’t even clearly remember the last time the two of you had even kissed. Sure, he lets you hold his calloused hands as much as you want and allows himself to be drawn into your embrace, but it’s not enough. Surely there’s nothing wrong, nothing disgusting about you wanting more physical intimacy with your long-term boyfriend that you share a home with, right? But Kageyama’s always been strict and restrained when it comes to all types of pleasure and in turn, he holds you to the same restrictions, making sure neither of you become too self-indulgent. 

You try to push it to the back of your mind, successfully laying it to rest as you enjoy the time you spend with your lover. You don’t necessarily agree with Kageyama on everything, but you know everything he says and does comes out of love and care for you and if the only penalty is less sex and a little less freedom, so be it. Every day feels like a routine and at first you fidget and itch for more, but you quickly settle into the comfortable monotony of your shared life, finding tranquility in the steady and constant flow. Which is why you’re startled to say the least when you’ve already got your bags packed, ready to tag along with Kageyama as his team travels for an away game this weekend, but Kageyama just smiles at you and tells you to put away your things. 

“You’ve been so good recently that I figured you might like some alone time to catch up and hang out with your girlfriends. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen them, right?”

Confused, but excited, you eagerly nod and Kageyama’s heart warms at the way your eyes sparkle. He’d have to thank Hinata for the idea later. Unknown to you, the two had briefly ran into each other and caught up, sharing about their relationships and he’d been surprised when Hinata had casually mentioned that his girlfriend was out of town, spending the week away with some friends and having a “girl’s trip”. He found the idea of you being away from him for so long with people he didn’t know very well unsettling, but as Hinata continued to rave about how healthy it was to have some time apart and how nice it was to have your own same gender friends to chat with, he pondered the idea more. Hinata certainly seemed happy and content with his relationship. Maybe there’s something to be said about this crazy idea after all.

But Kageyama’s not nearly as lax as Hinata and there are some rules and agreements set in place before he heads out. Be home by 10pm. Call him when you wake up and before you go to sleep. And the hard rules both of you live by still stand. No drugs. No alcohol. You can’t help but think he sounds even more strict than the summer camps you’d been to as a child and that it seems silly for a woman in her 20s to have a curfew, but your excitement at being able to hang out with all your girlfriends helps you fling those thoughts to the side as you hurriedly rush to your phone and message your friends. 

Kageyama didn’t have anything against your friends, but he was insistent on the two of you always being together in your free time, leaving little room for you see you friends in person, so your phone explodes with messages as your friends quickly eat up the opportunity to have a long overdue girls weekend with you. That Friday night, despite the fact that the bed is colder than usual and overwhelmingly large without Kageyama’s presence beside you, you fall asleep with a smile on your face, your heart warm and aflutter at the prospect of seeing your dearest friends for the first time in ages. 

The sun has barely risen, but you’re already wide awake and scouring your closet for the perfect outfit to wear, finally settling on a sweater and jeans paired with a strappy set of heels you know Kageyama disapproves of, always worried that you might twist your ankle. But today’s a special day and you know for a fact that these heels make your ass and legs look amazing. The morning flies by as you prance around the empty house to an upbeat playlist, going through your skincare routine and applying makeup for the first time in months. You usually save it for special occasions and date nights, but when Kageyama had realized how unhealthy restaurant food was, eating out became a thing of the past and the two of you mostly stayed at home becoming homebodies. Satisfied with your appearance you make your way to the restaurant your friends had chosen for brunch and after a flurry of warm hugs and giddy greetings, all of you sit down and peruse the menu. 

Your friends gleefully look over the brunch cocktails and look at you in surprise when you order a cup of coffee instead. It’s such a different choice than the college senior partier in you would have made all those years ago, but when they question you about it, you just laugh it off and tell them Kageyama doesn’t approve of drinking, so you’d cut it out of your life after the two of you started dating. A knot forms in your stomach at the concerned looks they send your way and share among each other and you try to assure them that it’s fine, completely normal couple behavior, but they aren’t having any of your excuses and the knot tightens as their interrogation continues. 

“He doesn’t let you drink at all?”

“He monitors and controls everything you eat?” 

“He times how long you sleep for every night?” 

“You guys haven’t had sex in months?” 

You slap a hand over your friend’s mouth as that scandalous question comes out louder than intended, but you bite your bottom lip as you slowly nod in response and you can feel warmth rising to your face as tears threaten to overflow from the looks of pity being directed at you. The friend whose mouth you’re still covering gently holds your hand on her face and brings it into her lap before quietly asking, “Is Kageyama also the reason we never see you anymore?” and that’s all it takes for you to quietly sob when realization hits you and you see Kageyama’s toxic control for what it is. And yet, a small part of you can’t help but defend him, and you try to reason with your friends, telling them that he doesn’t mean for any of it to be toxic, he doesn’t mean to be a control freak. He just does these things because he cares, but your words fall flat even to your own ears as you suddenly vividly remember the cold, lonely night in that basement. Your eyes narrow and you sharply wave to a nearby waiter.

“Let’s change that coffee to a mimosa.” 

You’re all successful career-oriented women and yet, all it takes is a few, okay maybe more than just a few, rounds of drinks for all of you to feel like you’re back to your senior college days and you’re having the time of your life. Your belly is aching from how hard you’re laughing and there’s a constant buzz in your body, in your soul as the alcohol takes effect and you can’t stop the loopy smile on your face. You don’t remember who was the ringleader, but all of you somehow find yourselves shopping for clubbing outfits as you get roped into a girl’s night out and as you stare at your reflection in a changing room mirror, pleased by the way the strappy number highlights your curves and barely covers your chest and ass, you briefly worry about Kageyama’s reaction to you being out so late and drinking, but you scoff, empowered by the liquid courage running within you and your re-found confidence. 

The night is a blur of shots and dancing. Your tolerance for alcohol is barely existent and you don’t remember much other than your feet aching from standing on your heels all night, being sandwiched between your girlfriends on the dance floor, and a jolt of irritation at feeling your phone continuously vibrate as Kageyama tried to reach you. Yet somehow you make it safely back home and you promptly collapse on the soft sheets, not bothering to remove your makeup, clothes, or shoes as you fall into a deep slumber.     

You wake up hours later with a groan, a raging headache pounding at your temples as the sunlight begins to filter in through the windows. You groggily sit up and attempt to get out of bed to completely shut the window blinds when you freeze as you lock gazes with cold blue eyes. Nauseous, completely sober, and still dazed from exhaustion, you tremble as Kageyama continues furiously scowling at you, unable to muster even an ounce of the courage you had yesterday.

“32 missed calls. 53 unanswered texts. And 1 response from you, finally.” 

Your heart sinks at the photo on his phone and you can only stutter incoherently at the hazy photo your friend had taken of you with a drink in your hand and the middle finger flipped at the camera. You finally try to explain that it was just a joke, that you had too much to drink, but you’re caught off by more harsh words. 

“I try to do something nice for you and what do you do? Go against the few rules I gave you and mock me to my face.”

You scramble towards him, momentarily forgetting about the heels still on your feet and you stumble to the floor as he grabs your phone and clutches it tightly in his grip. 

“Wait, Tobio. I’m sorry! Don’t take away my phone. How would I even message or call you?” 

“You don’t need to message or call me, not when I know where you are 24/7.”

And you flinch. You flinch at the sound of your phone being crushed to pieces, crushed beyond repair as his foot repeatedly stomps on it. You flinch at the look of cold indifference he pins you down with as you scream for him to stop, scream out apology after apology. You flinch at the feeling of his hand roughly grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to the room you’d desperately tried to forget. You flinch at the biting cold of metal encasing your body as he chains you up once more. And finally you bitterly sob as he walks away from your bound body, turns off the light, and closes the door with a resounding bang, leaving you alone in the dark and isolated prison with no intention to release you anytime soon. 

[firebrands]

And not to be greedy, but maybe no. 13 for Stony if you're up for it? Thanks!

THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE, THANK YOU

come into the light, m, 2.2k, steve and tony being porn co-stars (!) and quite a bit of tension between them | “co-stars au” + stony bingo prompt fill “tension” | on ao3

It’s been a while since Steve has done one of these confessional-type videos. After a PA has adjusted his seat and they’d tested the lighting, Steve takes a seat by the window of the cabin.

“Action,” the director says, and Steve takes a deep breath.

“The first time I worked with Tony Stark, I had barely started my career. We were both really young, and well, for me…” Steve pauses and runs a hand through his hair before smiling at the camera. “I wasn’t too experienced yet. But he was so gentle, and sweet, and he really helped with my nerves.”

They do a few more takes, try one where Steve’s wearing a different shirt, and one where Steve is talking to the gaffer, so his gaze is set off camera.

The next shot has Steve lying on the bed, only wearing his briefs. He rolls onto his stomach and looks at the camera from under his lashes. “I’m really excited to work with him again, I’ve always found his style really… sexy.”

He doesn’t need to conjure up anything to make himself flush; the script does the trick well enough, mostly because it’s true. He is excited to work with Tony again, even if he’s seen Tony around fairly often.

It makes Steve feel young, the way he reminisces about the first film they’d shot together, all those years ago.

***

There’s something different about the new guy. Tony has said as much as soon as he’d laid eyes on him, blonde and blue eyed and impossibly shy, even as they made him strip so they could shave him and oil him up. Tony has told them all before, that he didn’t like working with inexperienced boys, boys who would freeze at his touch, worry clear in their eyes and even clearer on camera. But there’s no fear in the new guy’s eyes—quite the opposite. Something about him makes Tony jumpy, but he can’t explain why. So instead, he pesters everyone else until they can give them a satisfying answer.

“You sure he’s in the right place?” Tony asks Jan, again. She tuts in response, just like she did earlier. “He’s too pretty, Jan.”

“Well darling, so are you, and that’s what we pay for,” Jan says, meeting Tony’s eyes in the reflection of the mirror. She tilts her head, assessing him, before she runs a hand through Tony’s hair.

“There,” she murmurs to herself, then she pushes Tony up. “Now it’s his turn, so if you please.”

Tony huffs, then walks onto the set. Nick is already in his seat, going through the boards. “Play nice with this one,” he says, and he doesn’t lift his head as he says it.

“So he is new,” Tony says, sitting down beside Nick. “Something’s different about him.”

Nick rolls his eyes. “Yeah, only been in one or two before this,” he admits. “But he’s good.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Nick snorts.

 The scene has them both in their underwear, pressing against each other, hands roaming up and down each other’s sides, breathy moans and whispered pleas. It’s a standard scene, one Tony’s done too many times to count.

Of course, this Steve guy had to go and be great at this, which is both charming and annoying in equal measure. Tony isn’t ashamed to admit that he’d expected Steve to be a ball of nerves, expected him to fumble around, maybe elbow Tony’s solar plexus by accident, or something.

Except, he’s the opposite of that. He opens his mouth readily when Tony kisses him, knows how to move his body, and seems to share Tony’s preternatural awareness of the camera. They move in sync, shifting their bodies to best show the camera their actions.

It’s barely acting anymore when Tony moans as Steve kisses his way down Tony’s chest. Tony feels alight, feels turned on, in a way that he hasn’t been in a long time—even in encounters that aren’t filmed. Steve keeps looking up at him, checking to see if he’s enjoying, and he’s unbearably gorgeous, and god, Tony could write sonnets about his mouth, his tongue, his eyes, the way his breath felt hot against Tony’s skin.

It’s not in the script, but Tony flips them over so he hovers over Steve, desperate to feel in control after losing himself so much under Steve’s touch.

Under his hands, Steve is pliant, his eyes shine with desire when he looks up at Tony and it makes Tony feel a little wild, makes him grab onto Steve’s hips harder, makes him almost rut against Steve until completion.

Almost.

“You’re really good at this,” Steve says, once Nick had yelled cut. Tony wrenches his eyes away from the flush that had spread down from Steve’s neck to his chest, which was glistening with sweat.

“Well,” Tony looks up at Steve and smirks. “I am an actor.”

Tony doesn’t miss the way Steve’s cheeks redden. “Oh, I know I just—“

Tony laughs. “I was kidding.” He takes a bottle of water from the break table and takes a swig, mostly to have something to do with his hands, which are itching to continue touching Steve. Tony wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and considers Steve before speaking, “You’re not so bad, yourself.”

Tony didn’t think it was possible, but Steve blushes even more.

“Thanks, Tony.”

Tony wants to do a number of unspeakable things to Steve at that moment, overwhelmed with how beautiful Steve looks, has looked over the past few hours. Tony wants to make him blush some more, wants to take Steve’s face in his hands and feel the heat on his cheeks on his fingertips, proof that some physical reactions were caused by him and him alone, no script needed.

Instead, he says, “You’re cute when you blush. Make sure you learn to use it well.”

Steve grins and nods. He opens his mouth to say something else, but they’re called back on set.

***

Steve stops in his tracks when he sees him, doesn’t even think when he shouts across the set: “Tony!”

Tony turns, eyebrows furrowed at first at being shouted at, then his face brightens when his gaze lands on Steve, who is already making his way to him; the smile on his face makes Steve’s traitorous heart swell.

They greet each other with an embrace, and it’s so ingrained in Steve to kiss people on the cheek in greeting that he only realizes he’s done it when Tony raises his eyebrows at Steve, surprised.

But Steve isn’t fooled—there’s a slight pinkness to Tony’s cheeks that wasn’t there before.

“How are you doing?”

“Good,” Tony says. “We just wrapped. Are you shooting today?”

“Yeah, what a coincidence,” Steve says, even if it isn't. They all rotate on sets in the large warehouse, schedules crammed tight as shoots go on almost ‘round the clock. It’s cheaper that way, and it’s not like their audience keeps track or comments on it.

Tony nods.

Steve nods back, and finds himself incapable of saying anything else. Tony’s beautiful in the afternoon light, lips pink from whatever activities they’d gotten him to do earlier, eyes bright from release. Steve drinks it all in, feels suddenly like a man in a desert who has found oasis.

Steve sucks in a breath, trying to steady himself against the desire curling in his belly. He thought he was past it, but seeing Tony again, in person, has awoken the desperate need he thought he’d quenched. He wants to touch Tony, would settle with just touching his wrist, really, which is absurd; he’s touched more of Tony before, and has a video to prove it.

“Steve!” Sam calls, voice echoing from across the warehouse.

Tony blinks, and only then does Steve realize that while he’d been looking—Tony had been looking, too.

***

Tony curses. He’s been chasing sleep for almost an hour, now, but can’t seem to settle. He’s tired, exhausted from his back-to-back shoots, and usually he’d just jack himself off to get to sleep but he’s too tired to even get hard.

Or so he thinks.

He curses again as he flips his laptop open. His desktop is a mess, flooded with icons and random files, but he knows what he’s looking for.

His media player, like an asshole, plays from the moment he’d last exited the video. On screen, in high definition, Tony watches himself hold Steve close, watches as he takes Steve’s jaw in his hand and turns his face up, watches as he kisses Steve, open and lewd.

He’s hard, as if he hadn’t spent the past 12 hours in a shoot, popping a pill to keep him up as he held another anonymous man close and imagined Steve in his place.

He thought that he’d reigned it in, that the attraction to Steve was a passing fancy in something new, as it almost always inevitably was. But a week ago, Steve had shouted his name across the soundstage and kissed his cheek and Tony felt weak—still feels weak as he remembers it, the soft press of lips against his skin and he wants nothing more than to trawl through the company directory and find Steve’s phone number, call him up, make Steve blush again.

Instead, he watches, cock twitching in his pajamas as he watches himself manhandle Steve. He clicks to the start of the video, pushes his pants down and takes his cock in his hand, stroking slowly as he watches the way Steve moves under him, remembering the way Steve felt under his hands, breathing hard, eyes trained on Tony’s as he came. Tony has proof, sees it in the video, and at that moment, he lets out a strangled cry.

***

It’s been a while since Tony has done one of these confessional-type videos. They have him pose, clad only in jeans—not bothering to have him wear anything under—as he speaks to the camera.

“Well,” Tony smirks. “I’ve always loved a nice ass.” He laughs, it’s an affected thing.

“I worked with Steve almost a year ago,” Tony says, smiling to the camera. Steve hasn't arrived yet, but Tony feels a thrum of excitement building in him, zinging around and making his body feel alight. He remembers it all still, clear as the video, he’s all but memorized and branded to memory. Steve’s skin, the strong muscles of his arms under Tony’s hands, coupled with how soft his lips felt, pressed against his.

“I’ve always wanted to work with him again, and I’m glad we’ll have this time together.”

Tony’s in the make-up chair, being fussed over by Jan, when Steve arrives. Tony doesn’t bother hiding how he stares at Steve, who is beautiful and somehow, still looking a bit shy.

“Hey, Tony,” Steve says, sitting down beside him. He meets Tony’s gaze in the mirror and offers up a small, nervous smile. “How have you been?”

Tony turns a little, wanting to really look at Steve, but Jan tugs on his hair and makes him straighten back up. “Good. Excited about today,” he says, knowing he sounds nonchalant in spite of how he feels.

He smiles to himself when he sees, in his periphery, Steve duck his head and blush.

“Me too.”

 Nick is sitting in front of the camera, reviewing the boards. Tony shucks off his robe and drapes himself over the bed, clad only in his briefs.

Once Jan is done with him, Steve takes off his own robe. He folds it up, hangs it over his chair, and moves to stand beside Tony.

“Excited?” Tony asks, smiling up at him.

Steve’s lips quirk into a smile. “Been looking forward to this.”

The line shouldn’t affect Tony the way it does; he’s seen the script, he knows exactly what to expect. Still, as if on cue, Tony flushes.

“Come here.”

“Cut,” Nick shouts, sounding weary. “I need you to sound sweeter.”

Tony lies back down on the bed, and Steve rearranges himself, props his knee on the bed, turns to Tony half-way, so that his body is still on full display for the camera.

“Action.”

“Excited?” Tony asks again. He relaxes onto the bed further, an easy smile on his lips—inviting, with just a hint of lewdness.

“Been looking forward to this,” Steve says. He bites his lip for good measure, looking like he’s been waiting to touch Tony, and the look in his eyes is so sincere that Tony, against all rational thought, hopes he actually means it.

Tony lifts his hand, rests it on Steve’s knee. “Come here.”

It’s as if no time has passed between them. Steve touches him confidently, his hand gripping Tony’s waist hard enough to make Tony gasp. His lips against Tony are sure, and soft, and just as pliant as when Tony had kissed him, all those months ago. It feels infinitely better than Tony had imagined, in all those months in between, and he doesn’t bother hiding how pleased it makes him, moans into Steve’s mouth even if there was no direction to do so.

Tony pushes against his chest, turns him over so he’s on top, and kisses him some more.

Nick calls cut, and they rearrange the lights. Tony and Steve stay in suspended motion.

Tony bites his lip, and Steve smiles up at him, beatific.

“Doing anything, after this?” Tony whispers.

Steve reaches up and tucks Tony’s hair behind his ear. “You, hopefully.”

send me a number and i’ll write you a short fic

[songbookff]

For @nuschapel ... something a little domestic. 

Sarek/Amanda after learning that Spock has chosen to teach at Starfleet Academy. Takes place in the AOS timeline...probably. Not too worried about details in this one. I’ve never really written Amanda before, so please let me know what you think. 

“You’re pouting.”

Sarek looked up from his book to blink blankly at his wife. Amanda was flipping through her own book on the couch across from him in their living room. His wife had a habit of making illogical comments instead of being forthright with him about whatever was bothering her in order to get a reaction from him. It was one of the human traits he did not care for. He also believed that it amused her to accuse him of un-Vulcan-like behaviors.

However, after the many years of their marriage, he had learned he should address her comments before they turned into a disagreement. Statistically, this resulted in the chance his being in the proverbial house of dogs (a terran expression he still did not fully understand) much less likely. Therefore, he closed his book and stated: “I know better than to remind you that Vulcans do not pout.”

“I would disagree, but that isn’t what I want to talk about.” Amanda closed her book as well and straightened her back. Usually, she would have a teasing smile, but today her jaw was pulled tight. This was unusual. “You are unhappy that Spock will remain at Starfleet Academy to be an instructor.”

Sarek carefully thought his response before replying, “I do not agree this course of action will be beneficial for his career.”

“As opposed to what, exactly?” Amanda crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I do not understand your meaning.” Sarek raised his eyebrow at how his wife rolled her eyes at his reply.

He knew his words would elicit a reaction of this sort from her. Amanda, for all of her human habits, did have one Vulcan quality: she liked to get to the point. Sarek found that if he did not answer her directly on occasion, their disputes would last longer; and he enjoyed debating his wife. She was highly intelligent and often found a perspective he had failed to consider. Of course, she was still wrong on occasion, something she would never admit.

“Sarek, why wouldn’t it be beneficial for his career?” Amanda stood and began to pace, listing off her position, “First, our son has a unique perspective on Federation culture and interactions. It is beneficial to Starfleet to have an officer of his intelligence and background teaching new recruits. Secondly, because of his esteemed status upon graduation and his qualifications, many high-ranking Starfleet officers and Federation employees will want to keep him close. He will meet many people who could useful to him in the future. And third, by allowing him to work at the Academy, he can explore future endeavors outside of Starfleet more easily, as the physical location of the Academy is near the Federation Headquarters on Earth.”

“And?” Amanda’s eyebrows knitted together in frustration. Sarek knew his wife was holding back another reason. She often held back information in a discussion to use at what she considered to be a more appropriate time.

“And he will be happy.” Her eyes challenged him to disagree with her last statement. “Do you disagree with my reasoning?”

“Your logic is sound,” he conceded. With a bit more thought, he replied, “I believe Starfleet is using him to further their own benefit without consideration of his future. They see him as a connection to myself and believe they can further control Vulcan’s interest by employing my son.”

“That’s rather self-centered, don’t you think?” Amanda’s voice was tart and Sarek was startled at the turn the conversation had taken.

He had not realized she was upset. He thought over the conversation again, as well as their conference with Spock this morning when he told them of his plans. She had expressed her pride and happiness in Spock’s decision during the call. Since then, she had been unusually quiet, now that he thought about it. And just now, she had brought up the conversation with a specific goal in mind. Perhaps he had misspoken at some point and caused her to be irritated.

Therefore, he cautiously responded, “My concern was for Spock’s career, not my own. I believe that Starfleet’s endeavor to cater my good favor will be unsuccessful. Therefore, they could impede Spock’s future endeavors out of spite.”

“You think Starfleet would punish him if you don’t start agreeing with them?” Apparently, Amanda had not seen this as result of Spock’s employment. It was satisfying to convince her of his point. With a sigh she sat down beside him.

Sarek used the opportunity to take her hand. When debating with another Vulcan, this would obviously not be an appropriate action. However, humans considered touch to be a soothing sentiment. Amanda always responded well to hand holding and although Sarek would never admit it, he didn’t see a negative consequence in the act.

“I believe Spock is wasting time when he could be greatly contributing to Starfleet as a science officer or diplomat.”

Amanda bit her lip, considering his words. Then with the smallest of smiles, one Sarek would have missed had he not been studying her face to make sure he was reading her emotions correctly, she said, “There was a time when you thought him joining Starfleet was a mistake.”

“That is irrelevant to the conversation, my beloved.” Sarek still believed it was a mistake. The Vulcan Science Academy would have proven to everyone once and for all that his son was as much a Vulcan as anyone else. The emotional decision to decline the honor of being accepted into the Academy was a poor choice. But the choice had been made; it was illogical to argue over it now.

“I know you want what’s best for him,” murmured Amanda. “But sometimes as a parent, it is our job to be supportive of what makes them happy, even if it may not be what is best.”

“That is illogical,” Sarek pointed out.

“Is it illogical to support your son?”

“If he-”

Amanda was quick to interrupt him, shifting her hips on the couch to look at him straight on. “Is it illogical to support your son, who is intelligent, driven, and trying to do good in the universe?”

“Perhaps not.”

This made her eyes light up and Sarek knew he had said what she wanted to hear. Throughout Spock’s life, Amanda had often had to remind him that their son was half human, like herself. It was something easily dismissed because Spock had studiously adopted his Vulcan heritage over that of his human side. Perhaps this was another one of those times.

“Then you will call him tonight and tell him that you support his decision!”

“I do not support his decision,” he reminded her. “Vulcans do not lie.”

“Fine, don’t say you support his decision, just tell him you support him.”

Amanda let him mull over this choice of words. She was right, of course, that would not be a lie. Sarek did his best to always support his son. He would not have to be specific about exactly what he was supporting. His wife was watching him carefully, waiting for his response. The logical thing to do would be to do as she asked. After all, it would make her happy.

“I will call him after dinner.”

“Splendid!” exclaimed Amanda and Sarek was rewarded with a kiss, both in the Vulcan and human manner.

After many years of marriage, Sarek had learned many things. The most important of those was that the most logical course was to keep Amanda smiling. If he were human, perhaps he would say it was because he loved to see her happy. If he were human, that is.

[hellreads]

do you have any polyamorous rec’s?

hi there lovey, I’m assuming straight-up any poly? relationships or just threesomes are welcome? btw you could also check this massive BTS POLY FANFICTION RECOMMENDATION by @btsinned, it’s a blessing tbh, anyway here goes my list (under the cut) | 🍒

POLYAMOROUS RELATIONSHIPS/SET-UP 

❥ Equilibrium by @tayegi➴ Poly/Lovers!AU | Jimin x Reader x Jungkook | Series➴ JiKook polyamory based on Woody Allen’s Vicky Christina Barcelona.

❥ Then There Were Two by @eroskook➴ Poly/One-Sided!AU | Jungkook x Reader x Yeri (RV) | Series➴ Jungkook doesn’t know what he’s missing until it’s all gone.

❥ You Need Us by @littlenoona ➴ Poly/Mafia!AU | OT7 x Reader | Series➴ Asking for protection comes at a big price and you’re more than ready to pay it, but betraying the ones that provide it, is a big mistake.

❥ See Both Sides Like Chanel by @minflix➴ FWB/Rich Kids!AU | Hoseok x Reader x Namjoon | One-Shot➴ You, Namjoon, and Hoseok are inseparable. Three best friends that grew up together since you were all in diapers. But lately, Namjoon has been drifting away…So on his birthday, you and Hoseok remind him just how inseparable the three of you really are.

⤷ or alternatively: a little less twenty-one candles, a little more “touch me”

❥ The Doms Next Door by @tatertotthethot ➴ Poly/Tattoo!AU | Taehyung x Reader x Jungkook | Series➴ In which you unknowingly accept the offer to become a tattoo model for the two, sexually-crazed men next door.

❥ Satisfy by @suga-kookiemonster ➴ Escort/CEO!AU | Seokjin x Reader x Taehyung x Namjoon | Series➴ “listen,” Taehyung says, eyes wide and eager as he smiles at you. “I figure we can just help each other out. I scratch your back, you scratch mine.” but when you find yourself suddenly in need of a massive favor, exactly how much scratching are you willing to do?

❥ Physcom by @teawithkpop ➴ Idol/Sexworker!AU | OT7 x Reader | Series➴ AU where live-in Physical Companions are provided to k-pop groups so the members can relieve their sexual related stress and tension - around their busy schedules, of course. You are one such “PhysCom”. However, complications arise when the BTS members start harboring romantic feelings for you. Feelings you’re not sure you can reject with any believable amount of conviction. Such a scandal could result in getting both you and them fired and exposed, ruining any future career options for all parties involved… it turns out the “com” in PhysCom might as well stand for complications.

POLY/THREESOMES

❥ The Hills by @minflix ➴ Ski-Trip/Vacation!AU | Yoongi x Reader x Hoseok | Series➴ A ski trip with old friends sounds like a fun time, right?when your ex-boyfriend (who you hate but somehow always end up in bed with) and your stepbrother (who you are harboring not-so-secret feelings for) tag along at the last minute, you have a feeling it won’t be an uneventful weekend.but fun? debatable. that remains to be seen.

❥ Bad Guy by @sweetbunnykook➴ Mob/Married!AU | Seokjin x Reader x Yoongi x Hoseok | Series➴ After a brutal attack in Hong Kong, your marriage with Kim Seokjin cracks as secrets begin to surface and a series of betrayals find their way into the veins of the Hidden Tigers. Although Jin’s devotion endures, in his own definition, the reality of being a mob wife may be too much for you to bear.

❥ Under the Same Sun by @floralseokjin➴ Lovers!AU | Seokjin x Reader x Hoseok | One-Shot➴ A stranger flips you and your boyfriend’s world upside down for one night.

❥ Number 23 by fringesofsanity➴ FWB!AU | Jimin x Reader x Taehyung x Jungkook | One-Shot➴ Your good friends - Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook - find your bucket list and helps you fulfill the 23rd item.

❥ King Cobra by @joonbird➴ Hybrid!AU | Yoongi x Reader x Taehyung | One-Shot➴ Yoongi, the zodiac snake hybrid, requests an evening with you - and asks dog hybrid Taehyung to join.

❥ Moth to Flame by @bang-to-the-tan➴ Vampire!AU | OT7 x Reader | Series➴ Robbed of your memories and intended as a birthday present for a deadly creature of the night, you unwittingly become the center of a territorial dispute between two covens of vampires. Tensions are rising and the brothers are getting hungry.

❥ Maid for You by @forgottenpasta➴ Idol/Maid!AU | Taehyung x  Reader x Jungkook | One-Shot➴ As Bangtan’s dorm maid you’re expected to be professional, your identity anonymous. Until Jeongguk finds you on your knees beside his bed, with his rolex in your hand.

❥ A Mess by @jeonsweetpea➴ University!AU | Yoongi x Reader x Jungkook | One-Shot➴ Maybe it was a good thing you lost that bet to Yoongi. The punishment was cruel, but it lead you to a threesome with him and your crush so… yay for that.

❥ Sharing is Caring by @littlemisskookie➴ Lovers/Prostitution!AU | Seokjin x Reader x Jimin | Series➴ Jin graciously decides to loan you to handsome Park Jimin for the night.

❥ Jimin, Please Don’t Take My Man by @countrysundae & @hobiwonder❥➴ E2L/Office!AU | Jimin x Reader x Jungkook | Series➴ And in that moment, you made the most selfish proclamation to yourself in your head, looking at the two men in front of you, one a devil and one an angel. You would make Jeon Jungkook yours - in some way, somehow. You would not let Park Jimin win this round.

❥ In The Dark by @caramelkth​ ➴ Bestfriends/FWB!AU | Jimin x Reader x Jungkook | One-Shot➴ Jungkook and Jimin have a very short attention span, and when you three are lost in the middle of nowhere with a truck that won’t drive, they find you to busy themselves with.

❥ Red Door, Yellow Door by @polaritae​ ➴ Demon!AU | Seokjin x Reader x Hoseok | One-Shot➴ In hindsight, maybe going into a trance to communicate with the spirit world was a bad idea.

❥ Don’t Swallow by @gotmetalkinginmysleep​➴ Idol!AU | Taehyung x Reader x ??? | One-Shot➴ Admitting your inner thoughts with your partner wasn’t a sensible idea.

❥ Hyung, Open the Door by @gotmetalkinginmysleep​➴ Idol/Lovers!AU | Yoongi x Reader x Taehyung x Jungkook | One-Shot➴ You’ve been keeping the boys awake with your moaning for months thanks to Yoongi. Tae and Jungkook want to find out why.

[shameless-writes]

Zen x MC

Prompt: Zen has to learn how to ride horses for a role and MC teaches him.

Warnings: none

Author’s note: Its fluffy? I haven’t actually posted fanfic on this website before. Disclaimer, I own nothing except Del. He actually is mine.

Days like this were the days she lived for. Just before the sunrise, no one else around, nothing but her and the horse in the arena.

MC sat in the saddle, not bothered by how much of a tantrum he wanted to throw. The horse she was working was more buck than anything. He reared, he danced, he spun beneath her. Any time he felt her leg touch his side he kicked out behind and surged forward. She made sure to never catch him in the mouth - a problem he previous owner had that had started this whole mess. After endless dizzying minutes - he stopped. MC patted his neck, shifted in the saddle, and he walked forward. She continued the normal work out before she was satisfied.

“See? You don’t have to get so worked up.” She told him. “Big baby.” When she hoped off she had a moment of starstruck awe and the horse almost stepped on her foot. Standing ring side was a face she was familiar with, but not one that knew her. He leaned against the fence casually, white ponytail falling over his shoulder. The dark t-shirt he wore did nothing to hide the muscles he had and the jeans were anything but loose.

“Hi, you’re MC right? I’m Zen.”

“Nice to meet you! You’re early, I’m sorry I would have tried to cut the ride shorter.”

“I didn’t want to be late. That was amazing!” Zen looked at the horse, who momentarily made him question if riding horses was a good idea at all. But the rider was so pretty…

“Thanks. He’s a bit of a handful.” MC started leading the horse back up to the barn with Zen following her. She tried to hide the blush by focusing on not being stepped on by the horse, who enthusiastically tried to drag her up the hill back towards the barn where he knew breakfast was waiting.

“Thank you for agreeing to this so short notice.” Zen fell into step with her. “Its no problem! I’m thankful for the work. And I enjoy your musicals. Its a pleasure to get to help you.” She smiled. “How much do you know about horses?” She asked him, handing the horse off to a groom when they made it into the large barn.

“I have a motorcycle.” Zen replied, scratching the back of his head. It was a little embarrassing to admit he didn’t know much at all. “I know they’re beautiful, like me.”

“They’re not quiet comparable to you. Horses are kind of like motorcycles, but motorcycles with opinions.” MC laughed. She brought him to the last stall. In the stall was a large, round, thick legged, relatively tall red horse missing an eye. As soon as MC was visible he thrust his head out over the door. “This is Del. He’s seen it all, done it all.”

“Hi Del.” Zen pet his face. The horse tolerated the affection with a soft expression. MC had to quiet the giddy feeling in her gut. This was the best paid job she’d had in her career. She took Del’s halter off the hook and held it out to Zen.

“Lesson one.”

~

“Keep your elbows at your sides.” MC watched Zen walk Del slowly around the arena. “There you go, just relax. Don’t look at him, look ahead where you want him to go.”

“How does he know where I’m looking?” Zen asked with a nervous laugh, the horse following the line of his gaze. Del was a big horse and his walking motion alone was difficult to get used to.

“Your head weighs ten pounds. The horse can feel where that balance is.” MC replied. “Reins help too though. Here,” she walked up to Del’s shoulder and the horse stopped. She took Zen’s hand gently in hers, as she’d down a thousand times with her younger students though when she touched his hand she fumbled with nerves. Her brain melted when she looked up at Zen and he was expectantly looking at her. “Relax your wrists, and keep your fists closed. Hold your hands about…” she moved his hand so it was low in front of the saddle.

“Here.”

“What does that do?”

“Gives you a better connection to the horse. These,” she held the reins, “are your words. You don’t want to yell at him, just whisper. Little movements. He’ll feel them.”

“You’re really passionate.” Zen said after she’d withdrawn her hands. He knew that look, that tone of voice. She smiled and looked down, scratching her cheek sheepishly.

“Yeah… its my life. I like teaching people about it.” She smiled up at him. “Now, press your legs into his sides and ask him forward.”

~

Zen was a fast learner. He worked hard, giving whatever he was learning all he had. MC liked answering his questions. She looked forward to his lessons, the way he smiled at her at 7 am no matter the weather. She woke up at 4:30 to get ready for the day and she had a text that upset the usual morning schedule.

Zen: I broke my leg Zen: I don’t think I can ride for a while Zen: I’m sorry

The knock on the door piqued Zen’s curiosity. He stood up and hobbled over on his crutches. Opening the door, his brows raised in surprise.

“MC? What are you doing here?”

“You can’t just text me that you broke your leg and then not expect me to bring you food. Your release form has your address on it.” She grinned at him, holding up a bag of takeout.

Zen was in shock, stepping out of her way so she could come in. The thought of being alone with her in the apartment made his face red. “You didn’t have to drive all the way into the city for me…”

“I wanted to.” She set the food on his coffee table. “Besides, I live a few blocks from here.”

“You do?” Zen followed her. “Oh would you like something to drink?”

“Sure, I’ll take a beer if you have one.” She answered. “Wait let me get it, you should be resting.” She insisted, faster than he was. He fell back onto the couch and she copied him when she came back, setting down two beers.

“Its not a bad drive. I’ve been doing it for a while.” She shrugged, opening the bag of food. “So how’d you break your leg?”

“Practicing for the role.” Zen sighed, settling back into the couch. “I usually heal really fast…”

“That’s good. You’ll be back to dancing and riding in no time then.” She grinned at him, passing him a container.

“I haven’t even told the director yet…” Zen looked down. “I don’t even know if I can keep the role now.”

“Don’t give up.” MC drew his attention back to her. “You have plenty of time to recover. Just keep practicing your lines, exercise what you can, worry about the heavy physical stuff once you’re better.”

She said it so confidently, so relaxed, Zen could almost believe her. He smiled at her and her stomach started doing flips. MC smiled back.

“You can do this, yeah?”

“With your support, yeah. I can.” Zen agreed. “I really like spending time with you.” Zen surprised himself by saying that out loud.

“I like spending time with you too.” MC agreed, blushing. “Besides you’re the first person Del hasn’t dumped in the dirt in a while so there’s that.”

“What? Seriously?” Zen laughed and she nodded.

“I’ve owned that horse for 13 years, and you’re the first person besides me he hasn’t thrown into the bushes in about 5.”

“I didn’t know he was yours.” Zen chuckled, taking a sit of his beer.

“Yeah. The only family I’ve got.”

Dinner ended up leading well into the night. Around 2 am Zen took her up on the roof. She leaned against the roof’s barrier wall, looking out at the city lights with him.

“Its beautiful up here.” She commented, looking over at him. He was looking at her and she looked back at the skyline.

“Yeah. Beautiful.” He murmured, but he was still looking at her. “MC,” he licked his lips and she looked up at him curiously. “C-can I… can I kiss you?”  

MC found herself nodding, heart beating so hard and fast she could feel it hammering against her ribs. “Yes.”

Zen smiled, leaning down. He kissed her softly, her lips fitting perfectly against his. Zen wrapped one arm around her, the other finding her cheek. Her arms closed around his waist, pressing close to him. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Careful MC,” Zen laughed against her lips. “All men are wolves, that includes me.”

“I handle horses everyday, I think I can handle a wolf.” MC laughed, kissing Zen again. Zen hummed into the kiss.

MC headed home that night with a smile on her face. Zen sent her a good morning text and called her on her way to work. She sent a selfie with Del that resulted in Zen sending a selfie as well. This became a trend over the course of the week.

“Are you sure you’re ok?” Zen asked for the tenth time.

“Not the first time I’ve been bucked off into the dirt. Won’t be the last.” MC laughed. “Just a sore hip for a few days. I’ll be fine!”

“If you’re sure,” Zen smiled at her. The idea of her falling off didn’t sit well with him at all.

“I’m sure. Some ice, bottle of wine, I’ll be good.” MC finished her beer and flopped her head back on the couch. “I have to be up so early tomorrow. Can’t say I’m looking forward to it.”

“Will it be a long weekend for you?” Zen asked.

“Yeah. But the pay is good. Hopefully we’ll get some of the horses sold and I’ll get the trainer fee.” She closed her eyes. “I’ll miss our late night dinners.” “Me too. You’ll have to last three whole days without seeing this face.” Zen posed and MC laughed.

“I’ll never survive. You’ll have to send me selfies to get me through.” MC leaned on her hand, smiling at him. She moved closer to him to steal a kiss. Zen smirked and pushed her hair back out of her face. He drew a breath and kissed her deeper, pulling her closer so she was resting on his chest.

A knock at the door startled both of them.

“I got it.” MC jumped up and opened the door. A short dark haired girl with big blue eyes looked up at her, face immediately twisting into a scowl. “Um, hi?”

“Who are you?” A shorter girl questioned. “This is Zen’s place.”

“Who is it?” Zen pushed himself up and hobbled over on his crutches.

“Zen? Who is this woman?” The girl demanded.

“Oh, Echo Girl.” Zen blinked in surprise. “What are you doing here so late?”

“I came to see you of course!” Echo Girl pronounced loudly, stomping her foot.

“What are you doing with another woman?”

“I’ll let you handle this.” MC headed back into the apartment. She sat out of sight on the couch, listening to Zen repeatedly tell Echo Girl she needed to go, and that he would call her manager to come pick her up. She got upset and stormed off.

“That wasn’t weird.” MC finished off her beer and stood up.

“You don’t have to go,” Zen told her.

“I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t have to be awake in… 4 hours.” She checked the clock and smiled at him. Standing up on her tip toes she kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Be safe and take care of yourself!”

“I will do my best.” She chuckled and Zen tilted her chin up to steal another kiss.

“Good girl.”

~

The next morning MC headed to work to help load a dozen horses into separate trailers. She had to drive, so by the time she got her phone it had blown up with her friends sharing news reports.

“Hana, what is going on? Why does the group chat have 243 messages? I’m at a show, I can’t-”

“Zen sexually harassed Echo Girl! Its all over the forums and twitter!”

“What? Hold on. Look, I’ll talk to you later.” MC hung up and started to scroll. That wasn’t possible… nothing of what Echo girl said was making any sense.

“MC! Come get this horse ready!”

“I’m coming.” MC sent a quick text to Zen.

MC: I’ll call you later.

And then she went to work. By the time she could call Zen she was exhausted and it was dark. It was a shared hotel room but while her roommate was in the shower she called Zen.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Zen sounded down. Way down.

“What is happening?”

“Echo girl is blackmailing me. I promise, I’m not like that. I would never do anything she said I did!”

“I know, I believe you. I was there Zen, I remember what was said.” MC promised him. “This is insane. Just lay low for now. Focus on learning your lines and getting better. Did you eat dinner?”

“I had a beer. Or two. Did you eat yet?”

“We stopped at a convenience store on our way to the hotel.”

“That’s not good, you need a real meal!” Zen argued and MC had to laugh, a warm feeling filling her chest.

“I’ll get a real meal with you when I get back.” She promised him. “Don’t worry about this ok? The truth will win out. Just get some rest. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Dream of me.” Zen told her.

“Always.” MC hummed with a smile. “Goodnight Zen.”

“Goodnight, jagiya.”

The endearing term made MC grin like an idiot as she hung up. Zen sent her a selfie and she sent one back.

~

The first thing MC did when she got back was go see Zen. Infuriating enough, there was a crowd of women with signs shaming Zen. The shouted at her as she walked up to his door and she spun around. “Don’t any of you have anything better to do than harrass someone?”

“He harassed Echo Girl first!”

“And your proof is?” MC snapped, knocking on the door. “Zen? Its me!”

The door opened and she slipped inside, just as someone threw a full cup that exploded against the door.

“Tough crowd.” MC sighed, looking up at him. He looked worn. Tired. Beaten down. MC hugged him and after a moment his arms closed around her. “It’s gonna be ok.” She promised.

“How do you know?” He mumbled, face pressed into her hair.

“Because you have a witness.” She looked up at him. “You never called Echo Girl to your apartment to harass her. I was here. She showed up out of the blue and you told her to go away.”

“Yeah… yeah you’re right.” Zen grabbed his phone.

“Who are you messaging?” She asked.

“The RFA.”

~

In the next few days Zen was able to get his cast off. It was decided that a press conference would be held at the RFA charity party to clear Zen’s name.

“Will you be my date, jagiya?” Zen asked. MC was sitting against his side, his arm around her shoulders on his couch.

“Of course I will! I have to be your witness, don’t I?” She kissed his cheek. “Maybe I should spend the night, help you get ready.” She looked up at him with her big [e/c] eyes.

“MC~ you have to be careful! Don’t unleash the beast!” Zen groaned, tilting his head back.

“I’m not!” She laughed. “It’ll be like a sleepover. Face masks, movies, outfit selection. It’ll be fun!” She begged.

Zen looked over at her, smirking. “You don’t know what you do to me, MC.”

“Good things I hope.” She smiled up at him.

“All good things.”

MC ran home to get some clothes and toothbrush. When she came back she and Zen did what she’d promised - a musical on the TV, face masks, and MC helping Zen pick what to wear. Zen insisted on sleeping on the couch that night but he woke up to MC making breakfast. They almost started getting ready to leave too late.

“Are you ready, jagi?” Zen called from the bedroom. She’d been in the bathroom longer than he had.

“I think so,” MC came out. “How do I look?” She spun a circle.

“Gorgeous! But…”

“Come on, Zen. We’ll be late.” MC laughed.

“Yes, we should, but…” Zen looked her up and down, biting his lip. She was all leg in high heels. “Your short skirt makes me think two things. One, beautiful. So beautiful. Two, other guys will see how sexy you are and that’s not good… This is going to sound really childish but you have to stick right by my side, alright?”

“Alright, lovely Zen.” MC purred and Zen shook his head.

“There you go again, messing with the beast.”

“Come on,” MC laughed, grabbing his hand and tugging. Zen followed without protest.

Zen proudly introduced MC to the rest of the RFA at the party. They made small talk for a bit before Jaehee started off the press conference.

“Don’t be nervous.” MC straightened Zen’s tie and smiled at him. Zen went over to stand by the stage.

“Then I introduce you to the musical actor, Zen!” Jaehee stepped away from the podium for Zen to take his place.

“Question!”

“Me first!”

The journalists jockeyed in front of the stage.

“Its not time for questions yet!” Jaehee’s voice settled the crowd.

“Yes, I will answer questions later on.” Zen’s voice was calm. “First I’d like to deny all accusations against me for ‘sexually harassing’ Echo Girl. Such false accusations have damaged my reputation in an industry where public image is key…”

Zen gave his speech patiently, pointing out all the things that Jaehee and the others had collected from social media to defend himself.

“Before the night she claimed I harassed her she visited my house. There is a witness who was present throughout her visit.” Zen looked at MC. “MC.” She raised her hand, taking a few steps forward so she had the attention she needed.

“Zen had recently injured himself preparing for a role and like any good friend I brought food to him. Echo Girl knocked on the door, claiming she had snuck away from her manager to come see Zen. Zen tried multiple times to get her to leave, even offered to call her manager and have her picked up since it was around midnight when she arrived. When Zen refused to let her stay she stormed off.”

“Thank you, MC.” Zen nodded to her.

The reporters continued to throw questions at Zen, who remained calm throughout. When a reporter pointed out that his comments didn’t have as much validity because Zen was such a sensational bachelor, Zen stopped him.

“I’m not a bachelor.” Zen stopped him. He thought about what he was doing for only a moment, how it would affect his career. And he didn’t stop. “I have someone… that means a lot to me. Someone I love very much.” Zen looked at MC and she felt flutters in her chest. “MC, can you come here please?”

MC walked up to the stage, and took Zen’s outstretched hand.

“This is my girlfriend.” He smiled at her, and held her gaze as he continued to speak. “From now on I refuse to respond to any misunderstandings or scandals about my love life - because this is the woman my heart beats towards.” He turned towards her. “I just wanted to tell the whole world you’re mine… I love you.”

[green-valkyrie]

Untapped Abilities

Untapped Abilities-- Chapter Loki Fic. 

Loki x Reader 

Since your ex left, you’ve given all your attention to your career. The hard work you had put in earned you a major promotion. Your friend and you decide to go out for the night. She has hopes that you will meet someone to at least take you home for the night, maybe more.... you just want to get drunk. After all, being a college professor is a lot of work. 

Chapter 1: New Things

The last month and a half has been busy for you at work. Honestly, your carrier as a theologian has been quite dry. There aren’t many new things to be discovered and many of the new theories that get published are typically discredited. Still, the stories that you’ve read a thousand times still excite you. The tales of love and woe excite you; and to be quite honest set the bar for any men in your life too high for any mortal to meet. You’ve always been enamored with Mythology in every culture from Chinese to Greek, but the one that you hold closest to your heart is Norse. Because of your extensive knowledge on the subject, you were selected to steam-head the curriculum for the new Theology degree course being offered at the college next semester. Of course, you would be teaching and heading the department, hiring professors, writing curriculum, etc. Working late has become the new normal for you; but not tonight. You have some serious plans for tonight. You need to get out. You haven’t been out with your friends since your ex left. 

Setting up your new office takes most of the day. It is nearly four and you were expected to meet your friends at 7. 

“Let’s get some computer work done.” You say to yourself. “Then I am leaving. Definitely.”

You have such a hard time breaking your focus from your work. You are the youngest college professor in the area and the youngest in the world to design a curriculum for any school. That wasn’t what kept you working so late, however. You were writing the curriculum for the Norse classes. 

****

The keys on your computer clack rhythmically to the pace of your writing. Of course you had lost track of time. “Shit.” you mutter quickly gathering your stuff. You did this so often, you wonder why your friends even put up with you in the first place. You rush through the doorway of your office only to be greeted by your closest friend.

“I knew you’d still be here. Don’t worry. I brought you this.” She hands you a short black dress with emerald embellishments across the cleavage area, replacing fabric and a pair of thin black stilettos. “Honestly, I don’t know what I would do without you. You know what, I do. I’d be a loner who reads fantasy all day.” you say as you grab the dress and spin around heading back into your office to change. “You already do that.” Your friend snickers as she follows you into your office. “Promise me something, please.” 

Here it comes again. Meet someone, it’s been too long since you and the giant asshole broke up. It would do you some good. 

You can’t help but mock those words in your head, as you’ve heard them a thousand times. Or, perhaps those words were true. It has been so long since you’ve felt the touch of anything other than your own fingers, or silicone.

“Yeah, I know… meet someone… get out there. Try to find the fire again. Just because you went through a bad breakup doesn’t mean you have to be alone forever.” I sigh, zipping the dress up my side. “If you can introduce me to Loki…. That’d be great.” 

Your friend sighs heavily. “Oh, come on! Loki is a fairy tale and you know it. Besides, why in the whole world would you pin the trickster god as your ideal mate?” 

“Because he is most written about. His accounts range from being a trickster, a helper, a friend, an enemy. He had encounters with every god in Asgard. I’ve read about him so many times, I feel as if I know him.” You pause for a minute, remembering that Loki is just a myth and no mere man could ever be as cunning, mischievous, sinister and honest. “The few accounts on what he looks like might hint to him being the most beautiful god to ever exist, too.” you wink at your friend as she rolls her eyes. “Lets go, you goof.” She takes your hand and rushes out the door. Trailing behind her, you pray to the gods you know aren’t listening. Please, help me find someone to try with again. Someone like you, Loki. 

****

“Brother, this is it! We are long overdue for a trip to Midgard.” Loki says as he pushes the doors to the great hall open. “I’ve been called upon.” 

Thor looks at his brother in disbelief. “Called upon? Brother, no one calls us from Midgard any longer.”

“Ah, needn’t you worry, Brother. It is true. I heard a voice. Calling me to help find love.” Loki extends his arms at his sides and bows slightly, not removing his gaze from his brother. 

“No.” says Thor. “You are not the god of love, brother, you are the god of tricks. You must be mistaken” Loki purses his lips in frustration. “I know that, but this human spoke my name. I heard it just as I hear you now.” Loki’s eyes fixed on Thor’s with burning intensity. He doesn’t know why, but he has to answer the call. Even if it isn’t specifically meant for him. 

“Let us go then, brother.” Thor places his hand on Loki’s shoulder. He worries his brother has actually lost his mind this time. “I could use a night out myself. One with you at my side will be filled with mischief.”

****

The music at the club is radiating in your chest as you dance with your friend in the middle of a crowd, drink in hand and hair flipping to the beat of your movements. You are hot and sweating. Maybe this urge is enough to satisfy the cravings for a different physical activity. As the song ends you and your friend step outside for some much needed fresh air. The crisp air feels good on your flushed cheeks. Your friend lights a cigarette. “Did you see anyone in there who looked like they might be in need of an all night history lesson?” She nudges you, playfully. A smile forms between your lips. “No. I haven’t been looking. I have been focusing on my dance moves. Moving my hips might attract a man worth my time.” 

“You’re so dramatic.” Your friend sighs, looking around her. She stops moving and grabs you by the arm. “Major hotties 12 O’ Clock.” Your eyes wander over to two men approaching the club entrance. The beauty of these men is astounding. Never before have you seen men look the way these two did. One man has shoulder length blonde hair, bright eyes and a chiseled physique. He is dressed in stone washed jeans and a tight fitting shirt. This man is handsome, but the other with him was more your type. 

More like exactly your type. 

His pale skin almost glows in the light and his dark hair matches the night sky. Their swagger is confident and almost regal. He is dressed in tight fitting black slacks and a black button up shirt. Both men are taller than the other men they pass by. Time feels as if it slows. The closer he comes to you the harder it is for you to look away. Soon, his pale blue eyes lock on yours. You can feel the heat in your cheeks return. There was heat building between your legs, too. The man offers you a crooked smirk and he walks by you, never breaking his eyes from yours.

 Holy. Shit. 

Your friend looks at you with a smile. “You showed interest in him. You absolutely cannot hide that.” She throws her half finished cigarette away. “We are going back inside to snag us some hunks.” 

Once inside, you see the men at the bar waiting to be served. Your friend grabs your hand pulling you toward the empty space at the counter next to them. Slipping a hand at your back, she pushes you next to the dark haired man and takes her place next to the blonde. “Hey, there.” Your friend shouts over the music placing a delicate hand on the blonde man’s bicep. “We’ve never seen you here before? Are you from around here?” 

Your friend knows exactly what buttons to push to get a man to crave her. You on the other hand, not so much. You look up at the dark haired man noticing his eyes are fixed on you with Interest. Your cheeks get hotter. “Hi, uh, sorry. My friend is quite bold.” You offer your hand and give your name. The man’s expression fades from attraction to amusement. He takes your hand and touches your fingers to his lips. “Great beauty is bold.” His ice blue eyes peirce yours. Your lips part to talk again, but you quickly retract… not sure how to carry on the conversation. 

You peek at your friend, who is naturally chatting up the blonde man. You have to have her teach you how to not be awkward. 

Staring at you still, the dark haired man leans his face close to yours. Your eyes meet again. “Would you like to dance?” 

You? Dancing with him? Grinding your body against his tight black pants? Absolutely. 

You smile and head towards the dance floor, not sure what has come over you, grabbing his arm. He spins around with a smile on his face to follow you. He gives a quick glance to the man who came with him and winks. You and the man reach an empty spot in the sea of people. You realize you left your drink on the bar, but you don’t care. Both of your hands are free and you feel the unstoppable urge to touch this man. Your hands reach out for his hips and you pull yourself closer to him, matching his movements. He is much taller than you, but you feel a slight twinge against your lower abdomen.  

Is that… what I think it is? You think to yourself, still matching his pace. My god he is hot… no… sexy. I wonder what is under there… your thoughts are interrupted by his thin although muscular arm wrapping around your waist, pulling your bottom half closer to his. You bite your lip and grind harder against the man, causing your heartbeat to quicken. 

You have to take this man home. 

Rhythmically, you work your hands up his sides to his chest and then you touch his neck, breathing in his beauty. His gaze moves from the ceiling to you. His eyes look dark and mysterious in the low light of the club, but you can tell he is looking right at you. The arm that is around your waist moves to your ass, and the other soon follows. 

Normally you don’t tolerate this sort of behavior,  but you can’t stop him. You don’t want to stop him. You feel both hands squeeze on your ass.  Biting your lip, you push your backside into his hands, inviting him to continue. He leans close to your face. “Your dress is ravishing. My favorite colors.” Through the darkness you see the man’s white teeth revealed through a devilish grin. Your heart stops for a beat. Fuck. 

The music pumps on and you start grinding against him harder, in sync with the beat. This is so out of character for you. Maybe the cause for your actions is an untapped libido, or perhaps that this is the first man you’ve seen since your ex that you’re attracted to. You’re more than attracted to this man, is almost as if you tapped into your animalistic side. The music ends, but the two of you are still locked in the same position. His lips are incredibly close to your face. You didn’t notice that until now, when he spoke. “You, my dear, are an impeccable dancer. However, would you care to step outside to chat for a moment?” you nod your head and remove your hands from his body. Your hands want to betray your brain and touch him more. Your hands want to rip his clothes off, actually, and feel the skin that lies beneath his clothing. You surprise yourself with the thoughts in your mind. 

His hands slide back on your waist, he drops one to his side as he ushers you from the building. “I need to let my friend know that I am stepping outside. We have this deal. If we can’t see each other we call.” you say to him as you exit the venue. 

“She is enjoying herself, also” He remarks. “ In fact, he seems to be quite pleased with your friend. I’m sure they will both be joining us outside here in a moment or two.” 

The two of you walk farther away from the crowd outside the door and stop to lean against the building. “I never got your name.” you say to the man. A smug grin appears on his face as his eyes scan your body. “Sweet darling, my name is not important right now. I am eager to know about you. You look as if you could use some fun. Tell me.” 

You pause for a moment. Heat fills your cheeks once more. Could this be an answered prayer? No. That isn’t possible. The only thing that heard your prayer is you. The gods aren’t real. They  never were, people used mythology to explain the things they didn’t understand. This is too good to be true though. Just as you start to speak, your friend and the blonde appear. 

“Brother, you were right.” The blonde man exclaims. “We were long overdue for this trip.” Your friend smiles and puts her arm around you. “The two of you seem to have hit it off.” She says pointing her finger and the dark haired man. “Gentlemen, A club is no place for conversation. We have plenty of refreshments back at our place. It's just a couple of blocks from here, we could walk.” She smiles and returns to the blonde man’s side, slipping her arm through his. You feel those cold eyes on you again. As you look up to meet them, the dark haired man leans closer to you, almost touching your ear with his lips “I would be delighted to see your house.”

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me -Chapter 59

Warnings: Profanity

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @alievans007​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @ocfairygodmother​

A hot shower and a three hour nap -aided by a mixture of antidepressants, anxiety meds, and pain killers washed down by three shots of tequila- has done Tyler a world of good.  Waking up feeling energized; still riding the high of the morning’s adrenaline rush and relatively pain free. Nothing more than a dull throb in the deepest part of the shoulder; some discomfort and audible cracking and popping when he stretches and manipulates it. But it’s bearable, unlike the agony that’s been a near constant fixture in his life for the past couple of years. While the initial replacement surgery and rehab had both been complete successes, a full recovery had eluded him. It had been his own fault, of course; the surgeon’s orders  had been to alter his lifestyle and to avoid the very ‘activity’ that had caused so much damage in the first place. That ‘advice’ had lasted all of four months, until Nik had called, desperately needing his help and he’d been unable to resist both the lure of the game and the promise of damn good money.

He’d attempted to walk away several times in as many years, fully intending to commit himself to being a family man with his own little side business. Content with the motions of being the one to stay home with the kids while his wife either went back to school or found a new career she’d be happy with. But sometimes the best laid plans don’t work out. Not long after an early term miscarriage when the twins were two and a half, she’d  gotten pregnant with Declan DESPITE being on birth control and coming to a mutual decision to wait until both Millie and the twins were in school full time before once again trying to add to their family. It had been completely unexpected, and off of their previous plans regarding their home life quickly went by the wayside. The job was easy money; he was confident in his skills and his abilities and Nik had promised to offer only the easiest of gigs.

That changed quickly. What should have been an ‘in and out’ assassination of a key political figure in El Salvador turning  into a four day shit show that had him falling into dangerous enemy territory and almost needing to be extracted himself. After that, he’d said ‘fuck it’ and began taking whatever Nik brought to the table. And his physical health began to pay the price.

He orders a meal from room service and cracks open the bottle of whisky in the mini bar. He’s stuck to his word; staying sober while actually ON the job and not ever indulging during his downtime. Unlike the old days, he’s able to both pace himself AND stop after just a couple. A far cry from the guy who’d polish off an entire bottle and would be either too hung over to get up with his kids in the morning, or already passed out in the early evening; missing school events and extra curricular activities that he’d promised he’d attend. He refuses to be that guy again; the one who’d almost single handedly ruined his marriage because he put the bottle and the pain meds at the top of his priority list; allowing his addictions to take precedence over his family. The one who’d rightfully had his ass kicked out and then spent the next six months in a drunken stupor.

Never again. Never again will he be ‘that guy’. The absolute failure as a husband and a father. He can control it now; no longer needing to silence the inner demons or lessen the emotional suffering by getting. The want not nearly as powerful. Before it had been a way of life; no day complete without at least the smallest buzz. Now it’s a matter of convenience. Even enjoyment. A feeling of satisfaction and relief when the whisky finally hits the tongue and he experiences the initial burn in the back of his throat. After that, one drink doesn’t make him crave more. Instead satisfying his palate with bottle water and Gatorade and terrible coffee made in the hotel provided maker.

He’s lounging in the middle of the bed in a pair of boxer briefs when Koen finally returns. Back resting against the headboard and his legs stretched out; laptop resting on his thighs and a plate of food in his hands. And he only gives a brief glance towards the door when Koen stomps in and allows it to slam shut behind him.  Offering no greeting, calmly and casually eating from the enormous serving of goat curry and naan bread,  eyes never leaving the video playing on the computer; his three oldest on the plane, reading HIM a story and every so often having mispronounced words gently and lovingly corrected by their mother. And the grin that plays on his lips is double fold; pride and love for those beautiful and intelligent little human beings he’d had a hand in creating, and amusement at Koen’s mutters and complaints and strings of profanity.

“Look at you,” his friend grumbles. “All fucking relaxed and shit. Cocky, shit eating  grin on your face.”

Tyler’s attention  never leaves  the laptop. A different video this time; Addie giving a real, genuine smile when she has her chin tickled. That one brings the prick of tears to his eyes. She’s still so tiny and so fragile, but she is...in fact...growing up.

“Why do you swear all the time?” He finally asks. “Makes you sound stupid. Find another fucking adjective.”

Koen smirks. “Well aren’t you just the clever one. Leave it to your brain damaged ass to remember THAT.”

“It’s my short term memory that’s fucked. Although I do remember threatening to throw your ass off the balcony. Keep calling me stupid or brain damaged, and it’ll happen.”

“Don’t be so goddamn sensitive. What’cha watching?”

“Just some videos Esme sent me. Of the kids. I’ve got two five year olds and a six year old that can read better than I can. How’d the fuck that ever happen?”

“Well their momma’s pretty damn smart. Maybe just be thankful their brains at least took after her.”

Tyler frowns, then flips Koen the middle finger.  “I meant that they’re practically babies still and they can read like they’re a lot older. They’re so smart. So fucking smart.”

“Definitely gonna be trouble makers when they’re older. Imagine them as teenagers? Especially Millie? With that mouth of hers?”

“That mouth of hers is going to keep trouble AWAY from her. She says what she wants; fuck anyone’s feelings. Someone gets mouthy with her when she’s older, she’ll put them in their place. And if her own mouth doesn’t do it, her right hook will. She's a savage that kid.”

“Best of both mom and dad if you ask me. And look at you just kicking back. Acting like  you didn’t just butcher two people this morning.”

Tyler shrugs. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for them?”

“Just thought maybe you’d be a little more...I don’t know...grumpy.”

“Why would I? They got what was coming to them. And they deserved a lot worse. You think that was brutal? Wait until I have more time and more space.”

“You’re starting to scare me a bit, mate. You’re enjoying this a little too much, I reckon.”

“Well if it was  your family being threatened, you’d enjoy it too. You know what kind of things they would have done to my wife and kids? What I did is tame compared to what they had planned. I’ve heard the threats; you haven’t. It’s nightmare inducing shit. Let’s leave it at that.”

“That why you been freaking out in your sleep? Waking up barely able to breathe and shit? Scared the crap out of me the first couple of times.”

“It’s fucking with my head a bit,”  Tyler admits. “Kind of hard not to let it mess with you. Trust me when I say that what I read? What was said about Esme? About the kids? I don’t wish any of it on my worst enemy.”   It makes bile rise in his throat just thinking about it and he places the laptop on the bed and reaches for the bottle of Gatorade sitting on the nightstand. Downing half in order to rid himself of the bitterness and the burn.   “Heard you guys had a bit of trouble.”

Koen scowls, pausing in the middle of taking off his gear. “Don’t get all cocky again, young man.”

“Not getting cocky. Just repeating what I heard. Didn’t you guys leave the same time I did?”

“Your point?”

“No point.” A slow, sly grin spreads across his face. “Just making an observation. I mean, I was alone and had to take out two people. By myself. Took me twenty minutes. And that includes me getting there AND back. You know all the shit I’ve done since then?”

“Nope. But I bet you’re gonna tell me, aren’t ya.”

“Took a shower, ate, slept for three hours. Now I’m eating again. And you’re getting back. Just now. It’s almost six. In the evening.”

“You’ve kept yourself busy. You jerk off sometime in there too?”

“Twice, actually.”

“Your lazy ass could have handled some more work. Instead you’ve been here slacking.”

“I’d done my bit for the day. Next time be faster.”

“Easy for you to say,” Koen scoffs. “Mister ‘I have all the experience’.  You now, we could have used your help out there.”

“Oh I’m sorry. I didn’t hear that. Can you repeat it?”

“Don’t be a little prick."

“I swear you just said that you could have used MY help. I swear you just said that.”

“You’re asking for an ass kicking, you know that?”

“Funny how you wanted my help when this morning you were acting I like I didn’t know what the fuck In was doing. It’s almost like...I don’t know...like you’re actually admitting you were wrong.”

“I ain’t admitting shit. Just saying we could have used your help.”

“Why? Apparently I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I am five seconds away from punching you in the face,” Koen growls. “And your wife won’t be too happy if I mess that face up. So…”

“Just swallow your pride and admit you’re wrong, mate. That you shouldn’t have underestimated me. Get it off your chest. It’ll make you feel better.”

“Make you feel better, you mean. I’d rather stroke your cock than your ego.”

“Well you’re definitely never getting anywhere near my cock so it’s my ego or nothing.”

“Fine,” Koen sighs heavily. “I underestimated you. I will never again second guess your skills or your abilities. But I still think you’re a brain damaged fuck.”

“I’ll take it,” Tyler says, then sits the now empty plate and Gatorade bottle on the nightstand and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. “How did it go in the end?” he asks, groaning and grimacing as he stands. Forty starting to feel like it’s closer to death, never mind middle age.

“They’re dead. So it ended on a good note. Put up a hell of a fight. Rata took an elbow to the face and went crazy. Beat the guy to death. You would have been impressed. I think he’s a natural.”

“And you?”

“I prefer the simple things in life. Pull a trigger and it’s done. I’ll leave the more hands on, gruesome shit for you two. Gotta date or something?”

“Going to the airport.” He slips into a pair of jeans and a simple black t-shirt. “Going to see my wife and kids.”

“Think that’s a good idea?”

Tyler sighs in exasperation. “Don’t fucking start this shit again.”

“Just if anyone is following you and you lead them right to your family…”

“Anil gave me the okay. Said he’s got tons of guys keeping their eyes on things. Yaz is sending a couple of people with me. So fuck off with this overprotective bullshit.”

“Now you know how your wife feels.”

“I have a reason to worry about her. A LOT of reasons. Damn good ones too. If you’re going to ride my ass so hard, at least pull my fucking hair.”

Koen smirks. “You’re into that kinda shit, aren’t ya. I knew it. Always knew you were a freak.”

“As much as I’d like to stay here and discuss my sex life with you, I’ve got better things to do.”  He attaches his holster to his right hip, gathers up his wallet and hotel key card and both phones.

“You better not come back here with that ‘’just got fucked’ grin on your face,” Koen warns. “Because I will beat your ass.”

“You’ll be too busy beating something else.” Tyler retorts, right hand mimicking jerking off. Chuckling when Koen throws a shoe at him when he steps out the door.

****

It’s only a fifteen minute drive to the airport and he already knows everything there is to know about the young tech that Yaz has recruited to ‘escort’ him. It’s annoying enough not to be able to something as simple as driving, but to have to stuck with someone that is overly chatty and friendly is nothing short of torture.  He’s never been a social creature; unlike his wife who makes friends easily and never shies away from making conversation with just about anyone, including strangers in the grocery store or out on the street. She’d been the first...and only...chatty person that hasn’t gotten on his nerves.

Her name is Riya and she’s twenty one; last of eight kids, her mother and father both extremely successful and wealthy business people in Dubai. The so-called ‘black sheep’ of the family; all but disowned when she’d decided to attend an American university  -Georgetown- and  make her home there. Even if he HAD have been talker, he wouldn’t have had the chance to offer up much commentary; her mouth running a mile a minute as she nervously and awkwardly spills even the smallest details of her life.

He doesn’t have the heart to tell her to stop her. The old Tyler...the one that existed only six short years ago...would have already snapped and told her to shut the fuck up. But who he is now...the man he is...is different in so many ways. Far more patient. Considerate. Empathetic, even. And the father of a little girl that is the very definition of a chatterbox. Who’s bright eyed and bubbly and talkative from the time she opens her eyes in the morning until the moment she closes them at night. And he wouldn’t want some asshole speaking to his own daughter like that, so why would he?

“How long HAVE you been married for?” Riya asks, and he can hear Esme’s voice in his head; reminding him that not everyone is out to get him. That their curiosity is often just that. They’re genuinely interested in him and want to be his friend.

“Six and a half years.” Sometimes it doesn’t feel nearly that long. Other times, considering all of the bad shit they’ve been through and the time they didn’t think they’d make it. It seems a hell of a lot longer.

“And five kids, right? In only six and a half years?”

“We’ve really been together for seven. Well, almost seven. But yeah. Five kids.”

“They must be really close together.”

“First three are. My daughter is six, the boys are five.”

“Twins? Identical or…?”

“Fraternal. Millie...my daughter...was only two months when we found out they were on their way. They were kind of a surprise, needless to say. We have another boy after them; he’ll be two in a few months. And we have a baby girl. Almost eight weeks.”

“Just a little one.”

Tyler nods. “Very little. Very tiny. My wife is, too, Small. But feisty as hell. And tough. Toughest and strongest person I know.”

“Yaz said you met on the job.”

“Yeah, we got sent out on the same gig, To Bangladesh. Actually had to pretend we were married.”

Riya laughs. “Really?”

“First time I ever got mixed up in something like THAT. It’s a long story, but in the end, my fake wife ended up becoming my real wife.”  He doesn’t feel the need to fill in the gaps between beginning and end; Dhaka and what happened there has never been kept off the radar. Word travels fast in the dame, and every single details has been made available; everything from Mahajan fucking him over to Gaspar’s betrayal to  his near death experience.

“Probably the best ending to a job you’ve ever had,” Riya comments.

“Took me nearly dying and her sticking her fingers in my neck to keep me alive, but yeah, in the end things turned out pretty damn good. What about you? You got a family? Other than the ones that don’t speak to you?”

“Nope. It’s just me. It’s hard finding someone that understands this kind of life. Who won’t judge you for it. And the people you meet through this life aren’t exactly the settling down types. As much as I want to believe I’ll meet someone, I probably should just prepare myself to be alone for the long haul.”

“There’s gotta be someone out there. Either in the game or someone who won’t be bothered by it.”

Fuck. He’s starting to sound like his wife. Years spent listening to her reason with her little sister over the phone that there has to be a guy -or girl- out there that would be into her; a full time student with five cats and a host of mental health issues and an extremely toxic family. Or hearing her talk Ovi through his personal issues; always chasing the wrong girl and left brokenhearted in the end. Normally he just stays out if; offering shrugs of the shoulders or a simple nod or a head shake when Esme attempts to get him involved.

“Maybe there is,” Riya sighs. “Do you have any single friends?”

“My single friends are single for a reason. And I’m a lot older than you and they would be too. So…”

“What about Ovi? He’s your friend. He’s young. Is he single?”

“He’s actually more my son than my friend”

“Son?” Her brow furrows in confusion. “How…?”

“Another long story. We ended up taking in him, giving him a proper home, a family. But yeah. He’s single.”

“Do you think  maybe you could…?”

Tyler laughs. “Yeah...no.  Just no. I’m not trying to be a dick about it, but I don’t get involved with this kind of thing. That, and I’ve got some pretty serious shit I’m dealing with and it’s definitely NOT the time even if  I WAS  the kind that would help. I mean, my wife likes to stick her nose where it doesn’t belong. You could always ask her to talk to him or whatever. I’m not who you want. Trust me.”

“Do you think she would? Put in a good word for me?”

“I guess,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Look, I’m not the sociable type. So I don’t mean to come across as an asshole, but…”

“You’re honest,” she says. “I heard that about you. That you don’t say much, but you mean what you say and don’t pull any punches.”

“I can be a little harsh,” Tyler admits. “So I’ve been told, anyway.  I’ve bet you heard a lot of things about me.”

She nods.

“Probably not a lot of good things.”

“More good than bad. But the bad is pretty...well...bad.  I don’t know; you don’t seem that awful to me. I mean, how awful can someone be when they have a wife and five kids? No woman would stick around long enough to have one kid, never mind that many.”

“Never thought of it that way. I’m not an easy person to live with. I’ve put her through a lot. But maybe I’m not as terrible as I think I am.”

“I don’t think she’d still be around if you were. If she’s as tough and strong as you say she is, she would have hauled ass a long time ago.”

****

He’s still thinking of those words when they arrive at the airport; pulling right onto the tarmac behind the smaller hangar he’d flowed into only two days before. It feels like a lifetime has passed since then. Since he’s stood in front of his home, kissing and hugging his wife and kids goodbye and wondering if he’d ever see them again. With how successful the morning had been, he wants to be more confident in regards to the eventual outcome. But he knows how things work; each kill will get harder and messier and more complicated. Mahajan will clue into his involvement and up the stakes even more. One good day doesn’t mean you can let your guard down. Not in the slightest.

Riya waits in the car, but both drivers and passengers of the three vehicles that had followed them climb out. Staggering themselves along the tarmac, eyes surveying the surroundings; bullet proof vests under their clothing, weapons at the ready.  The jet’s already arrived and the stairs being placed in front of the open door when he crosses the distances between it and the car; less than ten feet away when the first little body appears. Millie with her ever present messy hair and those Spiderman sandals; an Incredible Hulk t-shirt paired with a frilly -and glittery- pink and purple tutu over a pair of camo leggings.  Her head down at first and a slight frown on her face; shrugging a unicorn and sloth themed backpack onto her shoulders and one foot tentatively checking the strength and support of the stairs in front of her. And when she finally does glance up, the look is one of shock at first.  Her brow furrowed and those huge blue eyes wide and disbelieving. Then quickly widening and sparkling when realization sets in; a brilliant smile spreading across her face.

“Daddy!” She shrieks, and immediately forgets about her discomfort on the stairs, rushing down them and leaping from the second last one; not even stumbling or missing a single stride. “Daddy!”

Tyler catches her as she throws herself at him, effortlessly scooping her up into his arms. Feeling those little arms immediately circle his neck, squeezing as tight as they can and how soft her cheeks and her forehead are against his lips and how impossibly light she seems.

“You said we wouldn’t see you  for a few days!” Her tone has a slight scolding quality to it.

“I thought I’d surprise you guys. I got things finished nice and early so I could come and say hi. I missed you,” he lays a hand on the back of her head and presses a kiss to her temple and then her brow. “I missed you so much.”

“I miss you too. This is the best surprise EVER.”

“Even better than getting Saju as a late birthday gift?”

"I love Saju, but I love you more. You’re my daddy. And I was worried about you. About the bad guys getting a hold of you.”

“The bad guys don’t stand against me. You know that.”

“Daddy!” TJ hollers, and soon both he and his brother -and two dogs- are racing towards him. And with Millie still on his hip, he drops down to one knee, laughing when the force of those of those small bodies - and all of the power and excitement and love inside of them- knock him off balance and he finds himself on his ass on the damp, cold tarmac. Gathering all three kids into his arms and pulling them tightly into him.

“I knew you could do it,” Tanner’s face is buried in the side of his neck, tears hot against his skin. “I knew you could beat up the bad guys and still come and see us! I missed you. I missed you so much.”

“I’ve only been gone two days, mate.”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s only two hours. I still missed you.”

“I missed you too. I missed ALL of you.”  

He presses his lips to each forehead, returns each tight, fierce hug. Still sitting on the ground as he listens to all three speak at once’ excited tales about what they’d done on the plane and the movies they’d watched and the naps they’d taken and the food they’d eaten, Millie showing off her matching bracelet.  And she moves out of the way when Delcan arrives; a beaming smile on his face and a ‘miss daddy’ in his tiny voice before throwing his arms around Tyler’s neck. And he runs his fingers through his son’s silky red hair and showers his cheeks with kisses and holds him as tight as Declan will let him. And even now he’s not sure he deserves all of this. The adoration and the unconditional love and their blind faith and trust in him.

“Good to see ya,” Kyle says in greeting, placing Addie -in her car seat carrier- on the ground beside him, then offering a hand to help Tyler to his feet and giving him a one armed hug. “Especially in one piece. Heard today was the day. Must have went okay. You’re standing here.”

“Went better than I thought it would. I’ll take a good start over a bad one any day.”   He drops to a knee once more, smiling at his baby girl as he unfastens the straps of the carrier.  “Hey sweet pea...hey little peanut…” he scoops that tiny body into his arms, settling her against his chest; a forearm under her bum, hand on the back of her head. “Daddy missed you. He missed you so much.”

“What are you even doing here?” Esme inquires as she joins them, a playful scolding tone to her voice and a look of pure relief on her face.

He grins down at her. “I guess crossing your fingers worked.”

“I guess it did,” she says, and he’s able to keep Addie pressed securely against him with one arm as he wraps the other around his wife; pulling her tightly into him, lips meeting her temple. “I know it’s only been two days,” her voice is muffled against his chest, both arms around his waist. “But I have missed you so much.”

“I missed you too. It’s felt longer than two days.”

She nods, pulling away slightly to look up at him, tears sparking in her eyes. “I was so worried about you. Everything went okay?”

“Better than I thought it would. I’ll call you later and tell you all about it. Fill you in on all the gory details.”

“Yes, because I just love your stories of mutilation and homicide. You’re okay?” Her hands rub at his sides. “You look okay.”

“I’m fine. Not a scratch on me.”

“Guess you haven’t lost your touch after all. And to think you were worried about that.”  Her face turns serious, the amount of tears in her eyes increasing. “I was so fucking worried about you, Tyler.”

“I know you were.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “It’s okay, baby. Don’t cry. Everything’s fine.”

“I’m just relieved. That I didn’t just have to take your for it and I got to see it...you...with my own eyes. I’m proud of you. I’m so proud of you.”

“Now you’re going to make ME cry.”

“Did you get the videos? Did you watch them?”

“I did. And I’m slightly concerned that my six year and five year olds are already smarter than I am.”

“I don’t think they’re anywhere near being that smart yet, but they are crazy intelligent. Almost scary HOW intelligent. We are going to have our work cut out for us, I think. Having three brainiacs in the house?”

“Four if you count their mom. Where do you think they get it from? My looks, your brain. We’ve been through this.”

“Is that some sneaky, backhanded way of calling me ugly?” she teases.

“Baby, you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, you know that. And I love you,” he places a soft kiss to her lips. “So much.”

“I love you too. And did you see Addie? Her smile? Her REAL smile? She smiles exactly like you.  Her eyes crinkle and everything. So there. She DID get something from you, after all. Are you okay?” She reaches up and lays a hand on the side of her face, running her thumb over his lips. “With what happened? You’re alright?”

“I’m okay. I just missed you guys. It’s been harder than I thought it would.”

“It’s been six months. You had a whole different life for half a year. I’d be worried if going back to this WASN’T hard.”

“It’s not just that. It’s...I don’t know….” Tyler shrugs. “I can’t talk about it right now. Not with the kids around.”

“Is it about what you did?”

He nods. “About what I did. How I felt about it. How I DIDN’T feel. We’ll talk later. I can’t stay long; just in case someone is keeping an eye on me. You guys will be safer at the house than you will be standing out here talking to me.”

“Thank you. For making the effort to get here.  The kids needed that; to see you. I needed that. I really needed to see you. I needed to make sure you were okay.”

“I needed to see you, too. I was worried I’d never get the chance again. And I wish I could stay longer. Or go to the house with you guys. I’d give anything to be able to do that. Anything.”

She gives a small, understanding smile. “I know you would.”

“I gotta go.” He holds Addie out in front of him, kissing her forehead. “I love you, little peanut. Stop growing up so fast. You might be the last one.”

“We’ll talk about that later too,” Esme says, and he leans down to press a kiss to her temple before placing Addie in her arms. “I love you. We’ll see you in a few days, right?”

“Yep.” He attempts a reassuring smile, then kisses her; long and soft and sweet. “I love you. Call me when the kids are asleep. We’ll talk about stuff.”

“Okay,” she agrees, squeezing him tightly and burying her face in her chest once more when he gives her one last hug. Holding onto him longer and tighter than before.  Unable to control the tears that trickle down her face.

****

“You should see this place,” Esme says four hours later, after all the kids have finally settled in their rooms  and have managed to fall asleep. “Remember when we stayed at Mahajan’s? What that place was like? Well this Mahajan’s on steroids. I am serious. Ten bedrooms. TEN! And eleven bathrooms! Who cleans all those bathrooms? We have three and we can’t keep up half the time. And the master ensuite is bigger than our entire bedroom. And our room at home is what I consider huge.”

He can’t hold but smile at the youthful exuberance in her voice. He knows she’s exhausted; physically and emotionally. Not just from a twelve hour flight with five kids, but with everything that’s gone down within the past month and a half.  But he can hear the difference; being in Mumbai and closer to him has lifted some of the stress and worry, replacing it with relief and at least some peace of mind.

“And you should the shit this guy has,” she continues. “I’ve never seen anything like it. An underground garage full of insanely expensive exotic cars. A home theatre, indoor and outdoor pools and jacuzzis, his own tennis and basketball courts. Who needs all this stuff? I thought we had a lot of stuff. This? This is our stuff times a thousand.”

“We have a lot of stuff...normal stuff...because we have five kids. He has a lot of stuff because he doesn't have anyone or anything else to spend his money on.”

“”I mean, we have money too. We’re not exactly poor. Not anymore, anyway.”

“We don’t have  his kind of money, babe. What we have in the bank is like a month’s salary to him.”

“We also don’t buy stuff just to buy and have stuff. This is just insane to me. And the animals. It’s not one or two, Tyler. It’s its own goddamn zoo. He’s got tigers and monkeys and peacocks and a sloth. And snakes. So many snakes. Don’t even get me started in the snakes. All I have to say is thank god they’re far enough away from the house and securely contained. Because you know my fear of snakes.”

“I don’t know where this fear comes from. We’ve only had one snake in the house so far”

“In  my shoe!” She reminds him. “Which I tried to stick my foot into, thank you very much.”

“What was one of the first things I told you when we first moved back to Australia? Especially where we moved TO. Check your shoes before you put them on. If you listened to me more often…”

“What if it bit me?”

“You would have lived because it wasn’t poisonous. And it was a baby. The way you fucking screamed, you would have though it was an anaconda trying to eat one or two of the kids.”

“I don’t like snakes. I told this when we first lived there. That I’m scared of them but I loved you enough to live somewhere where there’s tons of them. And you promised you’d be the one to handle them.  And the spiders.”

“Which I have. And the dingoes. Have I let a dingo get you?”

“You’re probably waiting for the opportunity to feed me to one.”

“Baby, if I wanted to get rid of you, there’s about a hundred different ways I could do it. And feeding you to a dingo is NOT one of them. And I don’t want to get rid of you, so…”  He stretches his legs out in front of him, resting his bare feet on the top railing of the balcony. “...you’re safe.”

“What I don’t understand is our children’s fascination and love of snakes and spiders. If you didn’t encourage them to pick the damn things up and let them crawl all over them…”

“They’re not dangerous. They can’t hurt the kids. Let’s not raise pussies, okay? They have to learn about stuff, yeah? Let them learn. As long as they’re not in danger, what’s the worst that could happen? What are they going to do? Want a Huntsman as a pet?”

“I will refuse to step foot in the house again,” she declares. “I will move out. I will live with Ovi in the guest house. If you EVER let the kids do anything like that, I swear…”

“I’d miss you too much. I know what lines I can’t cross.”

“Speaking of lines you shouldn’t cross. Who’s the girl you were with tonight?”

“Are you serious right now?”

“What? You thought I wouldn’t notice you left with her?”

Tyler grins. “Esme, are you jealous?”

“Do I have a reason to be?”

“I kind of like this. You getting all jealous. You getting all worked up. It’s kinda hot, actually. And no, you don’t have a reason to be jealous. She’s young enough to be my kid.”

“Maybe she likes older men.”

“Good for her. But I like you, so…”

“So who is she?”

“Riya. She works for Nik. She’s from Dubai. Apparently her folks are loaded and basically disowned her for going to school in the States and picking the job she did. Sound familiar?”

“That DOES seem a little too close to home for my liking.”

“She actually wants to talk to you.”

“Oh how cute,” Esme scoffs. “She wants my permission before she bangs my husband. Well at least this is asking before she tries.”

“Only person I want to bang is you. And she wants to talk to you about Ovi.”

“Ovi? What about him?”

“You’re the one who can’t stay out of other peoples’ business, right? You like meddling in relationships.”

“Pardon me? It’s advising. Not meddling. Advising.”

“She wants you to hook her up.”

“With Ovi?”

“Are you following along at all or have I been talking to myself?”

“I mean, it’s Ovi. He’s like my kid. No. Scratch that. He IS my kid. I can’t set him up./”

“Why not?”

“Do you want me setting Millie up? Or TJ? Or Tanner?”

“First off, Millie is six. The boys are five. It’s not the same thing. Just do it. Put in a good word for her.”

“So now you’re encouraging me to meddle? That’s a first for you.”

“I’m encouraging you to help a poor, desperate girl out. And Ovi too. He’s been acting like a little bitch since Chloe took off and I can’t can’t take much more. So do me a solid and save what’s left of my sanity and help Ovi get laid.”

“Okay, wow. THAT’S a little disturbing. Isn’t that supposed to be your thing? Anything sex related? You’re a guy. You find him a piece of ass. Call one of your hoes from your old  little black book.”

“Actually, I didn’t have anyone in India,” Tyler admits.

“You poor baby,” she scoffs. “My heart bleeds for you. And find. I will put in a good word for this girl. But if you want him to get laid, you figure out how to make it happen. And don’t sample the goods, either.”

“Only goods I want to sample are yours. So why don’t you come over here and let me.”

“You’re hurting, aren’t you,” Esme laughs.

“A little. It’s been forever.”

“It’s been two days, Tyler.”

“Feels like it’s been forever. What are you wearing?”

“Are you serious right now? You want to have phone sex?”

“You can’t come here and I can’t go there, so…”

“I’m wearing a lovely combination of premenstrual syndrome, baby puke, and dog hair.”

“Now THAT’S sexy. PMS, huh? So things are going back to normal that way.”

“It was going to happen eventually,” Esme sighs. “After the next one, they can take everything out. I’m done. I won’t need any of it  anymore. They can have it. If I never have a period again, that’s fine by me, I’d say it’s good for you too because you won’t have to put up with my extreme bitchiness once a month, but you have two daughter who will go through this one day.”

He frowns “Can Addie at least get to her first birthday before we talk about this shit?”

“It’s going to happen, Tyler. I mean it could happen to Millie in a few years. I was ten.”

“Esme, for fuck sakes. I don’t…”

“Sorry, honey. I hate to break your heart like this. But one day it’s going to happen. And one day she’s even going to want to have sex and need to go on birth control and…”

“Do you want a divorce? Because bringing this shit up is how you get a divorce.”

“I love you,  Tyler James. You’re my favorite human And I love how you can impale someone with a garden rake but you can’t handle the thought of your daughter maturing. You’re so fucking cute. You’re so cute, I’d have phone sex with you right now if my cramps weren’t so bad. I am telling you, after the next one? My body is done. That’s it. Take it all out. It’s not needed anymore.”

“Next one? I thought we weren’t going to talk about that until I got home.”

“I made the decision. Without you.”

He smirks. “Oh, so you mean like you usually do about everything.”

“Pretty much. If you really want another one…”

“You gotta want it too. Not just me. I don’t want you doing it just because I want it.”

“I do want to. One more. An even number.  And if something happens like it did with the one that should have been between the twins and Declan…”

Tyler sighs. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“We stop if something goes wrong. Because once was bad enough. Well twice, if I count the one with Mark.  I can’t keep having my heart broken like that. And if we can’t successfully carry another one, we just stop. Okay?”

“Okay,” he agrees. “And it wasn’t fun for me, either. Going through that. It was my baby too.”

“I know. But you were amazing and so good with me and it made me love you even more. I’m worried about you, Tyler. There was something in your eyes tonight. When you talked about what you did today. I can’t put my finger on it. I just know what I saw and that I’ve never seen it before. It wasn’t old Tyler OR new Tyler. I don’t know who it was.”

“Before I tell you what’s going on, I need to tell you what  I did. And I know you hate hearing the gory details. But I need to tell you.”

“Okay…” There’s a slight rustle of the phone as she shifts positions in bed. “...I’m not going to sleep for a couple days after this, am I.” While she accepts and supports what he does, she draws the line at hearing the details. She’d seen enough in Dhaka, and once that was over, so was her desire to ever see -or think about- another drop of blood again. “Did you shoot them?”

“No. I didn’t shoot them. I was more...hands on.”

“Like your bare hands, or…?”

“Sort of. I kinda slit a guy’s throat and gutted another one. Literally.”

“Okay…”

“And I liked it. I liked doing it. And I’ve never liked doing it before. I killed because I had to. Because I had to keep myself alive. Now I’m doing it because I WANT to. Because I enjoy it. That’s fucked, yeah? Tell me that’s fucked. That I’M fucked.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s fucked. And I definitely won’t say you’re fucked. And I can’t say I’m totally shocked. Or shocked at all, to be honest.”

“Maybe we’re both fucked,” he says. “And not in the good, fun way either.”

“Well before you question our levels of depravity and insanity, let’s look at this for what it is. This isn’t a normal job. This isn’t what you’re used to. You’re used to not having any emotional ties to what you do. You go in, you do what you have to do, you get out. That’s it. You don’t know these people, you don’t know the people they’re hurting, none of that. You’re not connected to any of them, right?”

“Right.”

“Well this time you DO have a connection. A very personal one. These people threatened your family. And I don’t know exactly what the threats are, but they must be pretty bad if you won’t tell me.  I mean, people are saying horrible, twisted things about people you love. About me and your kids. It doesn’t get more fucked up than that; threatening children. Addie’s one of them and she’s just a baby. What kind of fucked person says shit like that about a baby?”

“Evil people,” Tyler concludes. “Really fucking evil.”

“And you’re pissed. To your very core. I see if in your eyes, Tyler. I hear it in your voice. How angry you actually are. How disgusted you are. And you have every right to feel those things. This is as personal as it gets. And you wonder why you enjoyed it? I’d enjoy it too if someone threatened you and I got to kill them. I’d enjoy every fucking second.”

“It just makes me feel like such a dick,” he admits. “Like I’m a horrible fucking person. I made the one guy look at me. Made him watch me while I slit his throat. And he recognized me. He knew who I was. And I liked that he did. That my face was the last thing he saw.”

“And that doesn’t make you a bad person,” Esme says. “A bad person wouldn’t  be worried that it makes him a bad person. You’re a good person, Tyler. I know you struggle to see that. But I see it. And I know it. I know who you are away from all of this. I know how loving you are. How gentle you are. What you did today...what you felt or didn’t feel...that doesn’t erase who you are or what you’re like away from all of this.”

He blinks back tears “This is fucked. This all so fucked.”

“You’re doing what you have to do. You’re stopping them before they can do the same thing to us. Or worse.”

“Definitely worse. Much, much worse.”

“Do you want to tell me what the threats were or…”

“No. You don’t need to hear that. You don’t need that shit in your head. It’s bad enough it’s in mine. That it’s  probably never going to leave.”

“We’ll work on that,” Esme promises. “Your brain. When we get home. We’ll work on it TOGETHER. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I love you, Tyler. So much. And I wish I could be right there with you. I know this isn’t easy for you. That you’re struggling with so many things. But I love you and I’m so proud of you.”

He swallows around the lump of emotion sitting in this throat and using a forearm to wipe the tears from his face. “I love you. And this sucks. Being away from you. You’re so close but it’s like you’re so fucking far.”

“If you need me there, I can find a way. And I will. You know me. I’m pretty sneaky and tenacious on a good day.”

He gives a small chuckle. “Yeah, you are.”

“And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. So if you need me there….”

“I’m okay. For now anyway. Stay with the kids. They need you.”

“So do you. Even if you won’t admit it.”

“I do. Need you. But they need you more.”

“Promise me you’ll call if it gets worse. If you change your mind. Because I’ll figure it out. How to get to you and stay with you. Promise me.”

“I promise. I’ll call you if I need you.”

“Get some sleep, okay? It’s been a long day. Call  me in the morning. Just so I know how you’re doing.”

“I will.”

“And thank you. For showing up tonight. Seeing you did a world of good for the kids. Especially Tanner. He’s finally smiling again. And he has such a beautiful smile. YOUR smile. And it did me a world of good too. To see you. I miss you, And your arms. It was really nice to be in those arms again,”

“It felt good to have you in them. Hopefully in a few days…”

“It’ll happen. I know it will. You’re doing fine. Just keep doing what you have to do. That’s it. We’ll talk in the morning, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Get some sleep,” she gently orders, and then disconnects the call.

[shutupandshipit]

Live Stream - Oneshot

Summary: Everyone knew that if you wanted to have sex or needed help through you heat/rut, you went to Midoriya.

Or where Midoriya is promiscuous and a cam girl, and Kirishima is an avid viewer who catches part of a live stream that wasn't meant to be live.

Pairing: Bakudeku

Rating: M

Notes: More outside POV for BakuDeku! I told y'all that I wasn't going to stop. I might expand on this one later, just because I love a good shameless slut character (because there's nothing shameless about enjoying sex). Also, I love a good cam girl fic.

Aaaaanyway, I've got Kiri's POV this time for you to partake in. Hope y'all enjoy! See you in my next one!

Everyone knew that if you wanted to have sex or needed help through you heat/rut, you went to Midoriya. He was the unapologetic slut of the school with a never ending stream of lovers to entertain him. Even the teachers knew about his exploits, but never did anything about it simply due to the decrease of rut and heat related attacks. They promised though that if a pregnancy occurred or there was a sudden rash of STIs, there would be repercussions.

Midoriya had taken the warning in stride and shrugged it off. He had told Kirishima time and time again that he had no plans of getting pregnant so early in his life and career.

Everyone also knew that he only took credit for having sex with you. If it ruined any relationship you may have been in, well then that was your problem.

Midoriya had a few simple questions he asked you and rules that you had to follow if you so happened to partake in his services.

1) No touching. For the duration of your session, your hands would be tied to his headboard. That was non-negotiable. The rule was in place for his protection more than yours. This was sometimes relaxed when it came to friends of partners he saw frequently and trusted enough to know what they were allowed to do.

2) No biting. Being tied to the headboard, it was harder to accomplish than normally, but if you made any attempt to do so, you'd be out of his room whether you'd gotten off or not. He expected you to find control even in a heat/rut haze. If you couldn't control yourself, you had no right being in his bed. There were no exceptions.

3) A condom would be used at all times. He didn't take it raw or suck dick without protection. It was simple as that.

4) Do not involve emotions. It wasn't his fault if you caught feelings for him, and he would not take responsibility for them. Sex with him was a no strings attached, purely physical transaction. He was a bunny omega after all with a sexual appetite that couldn't be satisfied by one singular person, so there was no room to get butt hurt about any other partners the frequented his bed.

5) Do not, under any circumstances, ask about his heat or offer your services during his heat. If you did, you were liable to have your ass verbally flayed and all contact with him cut immediately.

6) Rule 6 was probably the most important of all. You would be recorded and posted on his cam channel. Only your lower half would be shown. Your face would never be recorded. If you weren't okay with that or refused to sign his release form, you wouldn't make it passed his threshold.

His questions were simple as well.

1) Were you clean? This included drugs, STIs and any contagious sickness you may have at the time.

2) Were you in your heat/rut?

3) Had you ever had sex before?

He didn't ask if you were in a relationship because he didn't care. It was your choice to meet with him, so you were liable for any consequences caused by your actions. So if something did happen, you weren't allowed to come crying to him.

The last thing everyone knew was that he spent his heat alone. Or at least, if he did have someone he shared them with, no one knew who it was.

Kirishima knew all of this from personal experience. Even though he and Mina were together, it was hard to satisfy his alpha with another alpha, and the same went for her. So, they both employed Midoriya's services pretty often, both alone and together. They were one of the only couples Midoriya featured, and it had shot his popularity through the roof after the first video he did with them.

He offered a kick back of any money he made from his videos, but from what Kirishima knew, people rarely took him up on his offer. All the money he made went to his mother and omega related foundations. He was in it to satisfy his omega, and the money was simply a byproduct.

Kirishima had asked Midoriya once how much his partners would receive if they did take his offer, and the amount had floored him. He hoped all those foundations put his donations to good use.

It always surprised him exactly how popular Midoriya was on the internet.

Then again, sitting in his room with his laptop open on his stomach, nodding off as he waited for Midoriya's Friday live stream to begin, he could see the chat room already filling. 1,000 turned into 2,000 turned into 3,000, and just kept ticking. A countdown ran down on the screen, and people had already begun tittering away in the chat.

Kirishima wondered if the entire school was watching. He knew at least half of his class was. That's why the dorm was always so quiet on Fridays save for the sounds coming from Midoriya's room.

Just like every Friday at exactly 8 o'clock, the stream went live. Midoriya sat on his bed in front of a black back drop and on top of creamy white sheets, knees splayed out to his sides. He wore pure white lace panties and garter belt. Encasing his arms and legs were silvery metallic support sleeves that his garter belt clipped onto. A half face bunny mask covered the upper portion of his face. A white wig to match the white tuft of his tail covered his very recognizable green hair. The green fur of his ears had been sprayed with temporary white dye that would wash out when he showered.

When he was on his channel, he became Snow Bunny, beloved omega of the cam world.

Despite who he filmed with, not everyone who watched his channel knew who he was, and he did what he could to hide his identity.

Granted, if you asked him, he would say that society should normalize sex in relation to heroes. They could be sex icons in their own right, but if they were actually caught having sex or with multiple partners, it was a scandal. He wasn't really that concerned if his channel was discovered later in his career, but right now, it wouldn't do him any favors.

Kirishima commended him on that because he just wasn't that brave or confident.

"Hi, everyone! Oh my gosh, there's so many of you! I feel so lucky and blessed! Oh, no, no. I've got a guest here with me tonight. Not going solo today," Midoriya said in a sweet, high voice that was several octaves above his normal speaking voice, answering one of the flurry of questions in the chat. He peered at the screen intently, smiling widely. "Thank you 'johnfromohio' for the tip! I'm so grateful. How was everyone's week? Wonderful, I hope. I know mine was."

Midoriya was lying, at least Kirishima assumed he was. The class had spent the week getting their asses handed to them during training as was evident by the various stages of bruising across his torso and backs. They extended beneath his support sleeves as well. At some point, Recovery Girl had started to refuse to heal him day after day, hoping to curve his reckless behavior, but it hadn't worked quite yet.

On screen. Midoriya spread his legs, giving the camera a healthy view of his dick straining against the white lace. "Oh, don't worry about the bruises, loves! They're all healing well, and I got them all in good fun." He winked, smiling enough so that his canines poked out over his bottom lip.

Midoriya -or rather, Snow Bunny- was the most popular cam omega on the internet. It seemed unlikely. There were hundreds of other bunny omegas that worked as cam omegas that could have been just as famous, but none of them looked like Midoriya. Where he was toned and muscular, his counterparts had the bodies typical of omegas. Thin and reedy and lacking all muscular definition. Soft where he was deceptively hard.

Not only that, but his dick was more akin to the size of an average betas rather than tiny like most male omegas were. His fangs were not those typical for his second gender either. Sharp and pointy though still small, could cause damage if given the opportunity.

If Midoriya didn't slick and go through heat, he would have been a beta. Or even an alpha. He exuded the presence and confidence of an alpha. A wolf in sheep's clothing, praying on unsuspecting and willing alphas. Satisfying omegas when he shouldn't be able to.

He was a conundrum that Kirishima avidly virtually partook in most nights, sometimes alone, sometimes with Mina, sometimes with the other guys.

Except for Bakugou who never stuck around long enough for a video to load. Kirishima wasn't sure if he even watched porn or had seen any of Midoriya's exploits. Let alone enjoyed his bed. Their relationship was better than it had been before, but they still got into arguments that ended with destruction of property. He wasn't sure what Bakugou did during his ruts, but he thought they must have been lonely.

Even now, Bakugou would have been settling down for the night. Either reading a book or something else to wind down before bed.

Just like Kirishima should have been doing. The day had been long and grueling, and tomorrow promised to be more of the same. Still, he wanted to watch the stream.

He blinked several times, trying to clear the tiredness from his eyes as Midoriya smiled into the camera and turned to show off a crystal white as snow nestled between his cheeks.

"I'm all ready to go, loves, but this is for someone else. I've got to introduce my guest for tonight." He moved aside to flip the blanket off two pale legs. A thin, long tail of coarse yellow fur flicked back and forth across the mattress. "I found this little kitten omega all alone in the rain today and thought I'd be nice enough to bring him home and play for a bit." He trailed his nails over bare thighs that trembled under his touch. The tail swept faster.

Kirishima huffed, grinning. Now he knew why Kaminari had blown him off for the night.

Midoriya continued talking, dipping his fingers between Kaminari's trembling thighs. They came away dripping, and he licked away the slick to a pitiful moan.

Kirishima's eyes were itchy and each time he blinked, it got harder to keep them open. He scrubbed at them, but to no relief.

Even as Midoriya lovingly flipped Kaminari onto his stomach and hiked up his hips, he felt himself dozing off. When he came to with a jolt, the screen of his computer was dark and the dorms were quieter than usual.

Scrambling to log back in, he groaned when he saw the time. 11:54 PM. He'd slept through the entire stream and then three hours after it. He was the only one left logged into the chat. He was about to turn off his computer for the night when the stream loaded again.

It hadn't been shut off like it normally was at the end of a live stream, and Midoriya's moans slipped from his speakers. The shot was only from the waist down, but everything important was visible.

Strong muscled legs were bent in half as long elegant fingers clutched at Midoriya's ass. The pair slowly rocked together, unhurried in their movements. His fluffy white tuft of a tail betrayed his frantic pleasure, twitching each time his partner pushed into him.

This new person certainly wasn't Kaminari, desperate and scrambling for his climax. If that wasn't the biggest indicator, the other red flag was the fluffy blond wolf's tail that curled around the back of Midoriya's trembling thigh. He lay on top of his new partner, the knee that was visible planted firmly in the mattress.

There wasn't a hair's breath between them, and Kirishima felt like he was violating Midoriya's privacy even as he slowly came to full attention in his boxers. He ignored his hard on, more interested in figuring out who was held so intimately beneath everyone's favorite omega. If Midoriya did one thing constantly, it was keep distance between him and his partners, even when having sex.

When the pair finally came, it was together and quiet with long moans of pleasure followed by the gentle sounds of kissing. They didn't part, just lying still with one another.

It was several long moments of Kirishima's heart splitting his store of blood between his face and groin before they finally spoke.

"Mm," Midoriya hummed, shifting on top, but not moving away, "If this dries, we're going to be stuck together forever." His voice was low and slow, barely a whisper. Kirishima only heard him because everything else was absolutely silent, as if the dorm was holding its breath in the face of their intimacy.

A deep chuckle joined his voice, and Kirishima startled. That laugh was all too familiar even distorted and drenched with sex.

"Too late. You're already stuck with me forever," his partner said, and that voice was all Bakugou.

Kirishima sat straight up in bed, catching his laptop before it could tumble off the side. If he hadn't been blushing before, he definitely was now. He was blushing so hard he could feel his pulse in his cheeks. "Bakugou?" he hissed incredulously, still staring at the screen.

"Why don't you ever ask me to be on your stream?" Bakugou asked. Just a question without the usual demand in his voice.

Midoriya hummed again. "I didn't think you would want to be. You don't watch my videos. I thought you'd be too worried about, you know, everything else. Also..." He trailed off, voice considering as he sat up and slowly lifted himself off Bakugou. Cum and slick trickled from Midoriya's entrance and down the inside of his thigh. They both hissed at the sensation of their uncoupling, and Kirishima flinched in sympathy.

They settled back together, Midoriya's back to the camera and Bakugou's leg hooked over his to pull them closer.

"Also?"

"Also, this is... just for me. They get everything else, but you... You're my beautiful, amazing alpha that I get to have all to myself. You're private. Just for me. I like it that way."

Bakugou hummed, the sound slowly becoming a purr. "Yeah, I like it that way too," he agreed gruffly, "When does your heat start? My rut is in a few days."

Midoriya laughed. "I don't know why you keep checking. We've been synced up since we presented."

As Kirishima watched, the number of people viewing ticked up from 1 to 5.

Before he knew what he was doing, he launched himself from his bed and to his door. Sprinting down the hall and stairs to the second floor, he listened closely as the pair made plans just in case they said anything too incriminating. Without knocking, he slammed into Midoriya's dim room lit only by the light from the laptop. He stood there for the briefest moment, confused about whose name to call. "B-Bunny!"

His own voice echoed back to him from his laptop a millisecond later.

"What?" Midoriya shouted in surprise.

Bakugou pulled him close and sat up, pulling a blanket over them. "What the fuck? You ever hear of knocking, asshole?" he shouted, rage and murder clear on his face, "Why do you have you computer? And why are you hard? Get the fuck out!"

"Your- Uh- The, uh, stream is still live. It never got cut," Kirishima stammered, face so hot he could have sworn he'd become another light source, "I was the only one still logged on, but it's filling back up again pretty quickly." The counter was already reached 300 viewers again.

Horror filled Midoriya's face, and he scrambled from Bakugou's hold, skirting around the view of the camera. Bakugou followed his lead, pressing himself back against the headboard as Midoriya shut the computer off from its power button. The whir of its fan slowly died away leaving only Kirishima's humming computer.

"Close the door, Kirishima, please. I, um, need to log on on your computer if you don't mind so I can see what kind of damage there is and properly shut everything down," Midoriya said calmly, but his hands were trembling and it was quickly spreading to the rest of his body.

"Sure thing," Kirishima blurted, turning his back as Bakugou stood from the bed and wrapped Midoriya in a blanket before turning him into his chest.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. I-I swear. I just can't believe I made that mistake. What if someone saw your face? What if I said your name?" Midoriya rambled, and a twinge of pain shot through Kirishima's chest at the worry in his voice, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Bakugou murmured. When Kirishima turned back to them, Bakugou had his arms wrapped around the omega, chin resting on the top of his curly green hair right between his ears. "So what if people saw? They just know that you're mine now. I'm the one who gets the truest version of you."

"But what if-"

"Stop with the what ifs, shitty Deku. Let's find out first if there's anything to be worried about." Bakugou jerked his head to the desk that had been moved earlier into the middle of the room, and Kirishima carefully moved Midoriya's laptop out of the way and set the camera stand off to the side facing the wall. After, he retreated to the far wall.

Midoriya, still bundled tightly in Bakugou's arms as they sat on the edge of his bed, went to work.

A lifetime passed as he combed through the comments from the stream and watched parts of the video before he finally sighed and slumped back against Bakugou's chest. Relief shone clear as a sunny day on his freckled face. "I don't think anyone saw us. And our faces didn't make it on screen, which is a miracle, but if anyone did see and knows our nicknames, well..."

Bakugou shrugged more calmly than Kirishima thought he was capable of. "Then the cat's out of the bag. We're almost graduated. I'm surprised they haven't figured it out yet, but then again, they are all dipshits."

"But-"

"Before you say something that's just going to piss me off, I don't care. We've been faking it for almost two years. I'm tired of having to sneak around and pretend like you're not my mate. So, fuck it. We were going to go public after graduation anyway."

If Kirishima felt like an intruder before, he felt like a proper interloper now as he watched Midoriya stare lovingly up at the alpha, nose twitching wildly as tears filled his eyes.

"Aw, fuck, Deku, don't start crying. You're going to kick start your heat early if you do. I don't think you want Shitty Hair seeing all of that."

Eyes widening and ears standing at attention, Midoriya spun towards Kirishima. "Sorry, Kiri! Thank you though. For letting me use your computer and warning us. I don't know what would have gotten out if you hadn't told us about the stream. I'm really, really grateful. I'll do anything to repay you."

Kirishima's face reddened again at the honest sincerity on Midoriya's face and the way his alpha paced restlessly in his chest. He waved his hands through the air wildly. "You don't have to thank me, I'm just glad everything's alright." He ducked his head in deference as he drew closer to the pair to gather up his computer and Bakugou's warning snarl filled the room. Backing away quickly, he smiled. "I'm going to go back to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

Making a break for the door, he just caught the moment when Bakugou buried his face in the crook of Midoriya's neck and his growl turned into a contented purr. Midoriya giggled as he closed the door.

The next morning without any help from Kirishima, the entire class knew that Bakugou and Midoriya were mates. They were discussing them over breakfast before the pair even appeared, those who had caught the last minutes of the stream speaking the loudest. When they came down, they ignored the others, but didn't pretend like everything was normal. They were completely drenched in each others pheromones and could, for the life of them it seemed, not keep their hands to themselves. Kirishima could of sworn that every time he looked at them, they were pressing close for another kiss.

Spurred on by his friends' show of affection, he nuzzled Mina's neck. She buried his hand in his hair, but continued with her conversation with Momo.

He wondered if the pair were putting on a show, but suspected that this was just how they had always acted behind closed doors. Their affection was as natural as breathing. They were two planets orbiting each other.

He wished that coming out had been on their own terms, but either way, he couldn't have been happier for them.

[fountainpenguin]

Not part of an ask meme, but how do you picture the legal system in your FOP fan fiction? What are punishable crimes? What are common, considered reasonable punishments? Is Abacatraz the only jail? If a Gyne goes to jail what happens to his drones? And if a drone goes to jail what happens to him? Thx

Fairy World is pretty lax. Possessions can be easily replaced, it’s difficult to hurt others, and magic allows for criminals to be traced more easily than with nonmagical forensics.

At the end of “The Same Game” (Season 1), Wanda cheerfully bashed Cosmo in the head with a cinder block, saying it was all in good fun. I’ve based Fairy World’s casual, playful attitudes on that: their species isn’t easily hurt and they take that sort of thing lightly (See also, H.P. literally throwing a baby from one rooftop to another in a recent Origin of the Pixies chapter). Well, Cosmo seemed pretty upset with the cinder block thing, but presumably they made up later. Pushing each other’s limits might be considered play in Fairy culture. Who knows.

The biggest crime in Fairy World is endangering the population: revealing that Fairies exist is a big deal. Changeling children traditions have been banned for a long time. Interfering with love is off limits for anyone besides Cupid’s family, and searching for loopholes around that (or similar rules) might land you in trouble too. Unlicensed dragon rearing is also illegal since dragons are canonically immune to fae magic and are difficult to control. Otherwise the main crimes are, like, tax evasion, bribery, and setting national parks on fire.

Having licenses revoked is always a major threat (whether you’re a doctor, a godparent, or just a licensed magic user). Losing licenses is serious and you shouldn’t expect to reclaim one for thousands of years (if you get it back at all). With a million year lifespan, you guard your reputation carefully. If your record is bad enough, you won’t receive the endorsements you might need for your dream career (and most have new dream careers every few centuries).

Fairies are free-spirited creatures… They probably won’t change their behavior if you take away items or money (Stuff they can regain easily), but they hate hate hate being deprived of their freedom. You don’t see many fines in Fairy World. Most punishments involve community service (i.e. manual labor without a wand), training (either physical exercise or retaking classes), or prison time. Prison time leads to high rates of behavior changes for Fairies… Most don’t enjoy hundreds to thousands of years without magic.

Taking over Fairy World in “Pixies Inc.” resulted in the Pixies getting thrown at a wall target and presumably let go after Jorgen was done messing with them. I suppose jail is saved for top offenders and most crimes just don’t go that far. On the flip side, Foop went to jail for his crimes despite being a baby, so something’s screwy with this system.

Gynes don’t face prison sentences for killing each other, but they are expected to pay wergild (monetary compensation) to the family of the gyne they killed. As long as you can pay the fine, killing another gyne won’t get you sent to jail. Fairy World’s aristocratic families are always uneasy around one another, knowing they can all afford wergild if it comes down to it.

There are lots of different jails, but Abracatraz is definitely the most difficult one to get out of. It’s not technically part of the “cloudlands” (Plane 3 is the lowest level) and is part of the dregs: Plane 1. Leaving the building is relatively tough, but leaving Plane 1 is harder. On any other plane, you can fall out of the sky to a lower level. But this is the bottom, so the only way out is up.

If you’ve escaped Abracatraz, you should have been deprived of magic. No flight, no poofing. At least Alcatraz escapees could swim, but that’s not an option here. The only way out is leaving the tiny island Abracatraz sits on, somehow crossing the gulf of empty space to solid land without flying, traveling to the Bridge that connects Plane 1 to Plane 2 (Earth), and losing your enemies among the crowd. You’re pretty much not getting out unless someone on the outside breaks you out. The very few Abracatraz escapees there are will try to vanish into the human world, knowing they’re much more likely to be caught if they return to the cloudlands.

Foop’s escape plan had an advantage in that there weren’t any of those red, magic-depriving suits to fit his chunky square body, I suppose. Being able to fly gave him a massive advantage: He was able to dig a tunnel to the edge of the island (avoiding watchful guards) and fly across the gulf of empty space that most prisoners can’t.

When a gyne is killed, his drones get taken up by the gyne who killed him. That’s not a legal law- a drone can still theoretically walk away, but under most circumstances, they’ll change hands. Even Sanderson, famous for his loyalty, will switch sides and express that loyalty to whoever his new boss is if the Head Pixie is brought down by another gyne. If you recall the 130 Prompt “Minion,” one of his biggest fears is that he might not actually like H.P. and only hangs out with him because of his pheromones. He lives in fear that someday, he’ll turn his back and walk away with no ability to stop himself.

If a gyne is arrested, that’s different: a gyne is removed, but there isn’t a new one for drones left behind to drift towards. In most situations like this, you’ll see the drones hang out around the property for another several days. As pheromones fade, they’ll become more and more restless. One might head out to buy groceries and never come home, even leaving possessions behind. One drone might pack his things and deliberately head out in search of a new gyne. Another might wait around the property as long as he can. It’s not unusual for a gyne who finds an unattached drone wandering the city to determine where the drone came from and visit the property of the detained gyne, picking up any drones who are still around there.

Recall that for drones, pheromones are what soothes their rapid energy swings and keeps them functioning and happy. It’s possible to live with constant emotional whiplash, but comfort is preferable. They don’t like staying where they’re unhappy, so few drones will wait around a barren property for long. Without pheromones, they’re eternally restless and will seek a new source. 

Some drones might hold out longer than others, either powering through energy swings or using a secondhand source (like bottled donor pheromones) to get by. But if someone is jailed for hundreds or thousands of years, do you want to put yourself in an uncomfortable situation until they get out? Depends on the person. If those donated pheromones came from your own gyne, you’ll eventually run out. If they didn’t, loyalty will switch to a new gyne anyway and a drone might not feel comfortable staying on another’s property (feels like barging into someone else’s house and making yourself at home while the owner is away). Pheromones are individual, not easily interchangeable.

You may recall from “Timmy’s Secret Wish” that the Fairy Council is notoriously fast at moving cases through court. Maybe trying to get falsely accused gynes back home is one reason why.

I feel like drones would do well in jail, though. If they’re out on a distant property where nobody knows they’re there, they’re not likely to find the emotional support they need. In jail, exposing drones to pheromones is easy, especially if you’re not picky about what kind of donor pheromones you give them. Drones like consistency. Consistency means safety and stability. A drone exposed to hundreds of years of the same donor pheromones will prefer those scents and have a harder time switching back to his original gyne’s pheromones when he goes home. He might be more likely to complain and, if he was exposed to certain pheromones excessively, might try to leave. However, varying pheromone exposure in jail makes it more likely he’ll be satisfied with his usual gyne once he’s receiving the same scents consistently.

Drones aren’t brainwashed by pheromones, simply influenced. They can still act out, but overall they’re generally well behaved and satisfied as long as they receive regular pheromone exposure. They probably get let out early for good behavior.

I’m sure the jail system is horribly biased. I feel like the majority of Fairy World sees drones as simpleminded and incapable of being very cruel. Punishments for drones are pretty light. Gynes are often portrayed in Fairy World as slaves to their insect biology (the polite term is “prince of destiny”), so they too probably have some cruelties written off as not wholly their fault (For crying out loud, murder is excused if you’re a gyne).

Those darn kabouters, the least influenced by their animal biology, should know better tho >:(

[tanyavvvvvvf-blog]

Guardian Original Novel- Bonus Chapter Four - Finished on 2018/07/30 by Priest - P1

【Interpreter note: Token of Soul Suppression : Whoever have their names written on the token, will be a servant. They will have connection with the token, and have to follow commands from the master - Zhao Yunlan, God of Mountain KunLun.】

(I)

"... ... Here, click here, and then set up a pin number for payment." Zhao Yunlan handed a cell phone to Shen Wei, but not until Shen Wei took over, he changed his mind, set up a pin himself instead, "Never mind, I'll do it, you are too easy to guess."

Professor Shen is a very persistent person, all of his password were their door number, he has no awareness of security.

Shen Wei is a very detailed and decent man. After the battle, his focus was shifted from worrying about the Triple Realm to the arrangement of clothing, diet, housing, and traveling, these are so easy and effortless for him.

In the past, Shen Wei really didn't care to plan his life style. In troubled times, he would find a spot in the forest or mountain to hide. If the world was in the heyday of peace, he would look for an apartment and live a simple life. He wandered around the world for so long, honest and clear, has no deposit, not to mention of buying a property. So far, he has only a checking account for his salary, he is basically a normal middle-class man.

As for the famous mountains and rivers he inherited from KunLun, are in charged by the National Tourism Development Department, have nothing to do with him. He can't have the share of the fares or tickets.

"Look, I'll show you how to send out a Red-pocket here." Zhao Yunlan reached out and hooked over Shen Wei's shoulders, ruined his dignified sitting position. He took the chance of sharing personal experience, sent a red-pocket to himself, and he was quite satisfied with that. "Congratulations! The last old fogey of this century just stepped into Mobile Pay. ... .... What, again!"

Before he finished, his phone rang, Zhao Yunlan looked at the screen, didn't want to pick up, so he flipped the phone facing down. The phone rang for three times, but whoever was calling not going to stop, his office phone started to ring. Zhao Yunlan stretched his leg, poked Qing over the armchair, "Yo, fatty, pick it up."

Since Shen Wei was still sitting there, Qing held down his tamper. He jumped on the deck, treated the handset as Zhao Yunlan's face, slammed it off, "Hello, Special Inve.... Ah? HAHA, how are you Old Chief Zhao？Oh you're looking for the Chief Director? He just told me he's not here."

Zhao Yunlan:"... ..."

He looked at his phone, all three phone calls were not from the same person, the last two were from his father. He moved towards the phone unwillingly, "What's wrong with these monsters! Are they all right?! Going to my dad to pull a freaking string!"

Special Investigation Department, as is "Soul Suppression Unit", in the very beginning, it was like a "daycare", and a "Labor reformation + social working shelter".

In this department, except for Guo ChangCheng - a real human, and Wang Zheng- Sang Zan and other ghost-form officers that were taken in by Zhao Yunlan, the rest of the crew members could be divided into two types: Type one, for example Zhu Hong and Lin Jing, these were sent in here to accumulate experiences; Type two, Chu Shuzhi, a former prisoner. The Soul Suppression Unit was established to coordinate among the Triple Realms, and to guard the peace of the human world. Their daily life are to wipe behind those criminals who committed crimes, under the condition of complying with protocols, laws and regulations. This job alone was not a easy piece of cake, plus the director was a normal-looking young man, so there was never any talented person volunteered to join.

But the status quo was very different now. Ever since the barrier was devastated, the four Holy Items were re-arranged, the grand reincarnation was established, the Lord of Ghost ascended and became a celestial, and God KunLun returned to his rightful position, these facts might be secrets to mortal human, but not to the other forms of lives. After the battle night, the SID that no one cared, became the hottest issue. Everyone tried to step in to get some celestial blessing. It turned so annoying that Zhao Yunlan had to turn them down by telling them "There are not enough space for too many names on the Token of Soul Suppression (Note: A tree bark from the divine tree grown on top of Mountain KunLun)."

The token doesn't have enough space, but SID does. The SID is an administrative facility, founded by the government.

So, in order to get connection with SID, some smart pants started to lobby for reformation, and eventually they succeeded. SID was upgraded into "Special Investigation Administration Department - SIAD". Now there are agencies in different provinces, quite organized.

The "Section Chief Zhao" who was lying in the loft of 9th University Blvd all day long, thus inexplicably became "Chief Director Zhao".

This was the first year of opening for application after the reformation. Zhao Yunlan who was indulged in gardening and peaceful happy life, was directed by authorities to take over the recruitment. Sure won't have their names engraved on the token, but doesn't mean Zhao Yunlan wants some losers in his agencies, he had enough losers already. The whole department was shorthanded, so public recruiting was not a option. He sent out limited quantities of applications to different species, left the tough qualify selection to their leaders.

To get some extra applications, apparently some "talented people" had figured out shortcuts.

"Yes?" Zhao Yunlan picked up the phone and answered very sluggish, "What. You already retired, can't you just spend more time on dancing with those old ladies. Don't waste your time and energy on my career. Who called you anyway?! Errrrr... ... "

Qing lifted his ears, a rambling monologue boomed out from the other side of the line. At the beginning, Zhao Yunlan was trying to interrupt his father, "No, I did not. No, not at all", that didn't work out. Later, he decided to give up his resistance. He leaned to the desk, relaxed his leg, looked up the ceiling and then all the way down to Shen Wei's clean cuffs. He suddenly started to miss Med-Bowl, as least he never give so much lecture.

His dad, a retired Director, recently had been frequently visited, very angry after he found out why. Year of 2018 already, these people visited him just for a stupid job application form. What a stupid idea! That was why he called in to lecture Zhao Yunlan.

Zhao Yunlan answered very careless:"Yes, I know...... You're absolutely right...... No, I'm not a dictator... No, I didn't attempt to Rent-Seeking, I simply don't have enough employees for giving interviews. There are way too many applicants, I don't have enough people for a primary selection....... I am not corrupted. There's no acid rain in Dragon City lately...... No, I'm not playing with words. I certainly did not do that everyday. I do reflect on myself everyday. For real! As a precaution. Ask Shen Wei!"

Someone knocked on the door three times, Lin Jing craned his neck inside first. He bowed to Shen Wei first, "Thank you Prof Shen —— Chief, It's Dragon Boat Festival tomorrow, on behalf of the whole department, we would like know if we have any physical form of benefits or bonus for the holiday?"

Zhao Yunlan pointed to the door, "Post a notice of "Honest and self-disciplined", spend the holiday with your honesty not your benefits or bonus! Get out!"

So much for the representative Mr. Lin. He left the office with shame.

He just left, Zhu Hong knocked on the door, "Thank you Prof Shen! Hi Chief, I have a word from my Uncle Four, he wants to make an appointment with you for dinner. Some elder leaders from other monster-spirit spices want to meet you. But, I'm just a messenger. I don't like the idea at all. If you don't feel comfortable about it, just refuse. No need to worry about my stance."

Zhu Hong was definitely on his side, no need to doubt that. But the monster-spirit species is KunLun's direct line of disciple, he shouldn't avoid them. Zhao Yunlan was left with no choice, he waved his hand.

Zhu Hong turned away, almost bumped into Chu Shuzhi. He was in a big hurry, nodded to her, "You all right? ... Hey Chief, we have a situation. Some one used sorcery on the applications. "

Shen Wei looked up from the phone he was playing with, "What is it?"

Shen Wei doesn't interfere with the any business in general, unless someone ask his opinions. He started the topic this time, was because he personally impressed those "security seals" on the applications. The Soul Reapers was responsible for guarding the barrier, for 5,000 years he didn't waste his time. He watched all the spices rising and falling, he knew their skills. He is by meaning a living "lost sorcery library". But no one ever come to him to purchase any "patent", so "the library" is still living a mid-class life.

Chu Shuzhi:"Still have ten days before the deadline. But the applications we received have far over-numbered than what we sent out. Oh, by the way. Thank you, Prof Shen."

"Put them together. I want to see." Zhao Yunlan put down the handset, "And, what kind of cue is that? Why you all come in started with Thank You Prof Shen?"

Shen Wei:"Emmmm......."

Chu Shuzhi:"Prof Shen just sent us Red-Pockets. Must be the bonus for the holiday, right?"

Zhao Yunlan took over the phone from Shen Wei. Just a few minutes while he was on the phone, Shen Wei already mastered the skill of Mobile Pay, and he practiced. Using the "Contacts", he sent out red-pockets to all the crew members in the department.

Not one big red-pocket sent inside a chatting group, not the kind that if you're lucky you're get a good number of money, Zhao Yunlan hadn't teach him that. But individual red-pockets, were sent one by one through his contacts list. Already half way through, Shen Wei ran out of balance.

Money, to Prof Shen must be like online-video game tokens, those tokens you'll get a load once you log in, not those you need to pay.

Zhao Yunlan:"... ..."

Shen Wei:"?"

"A.....all right." Zhao Yunlan gave a twisted smile, "No balance in your account? No problem. I'll transfer some to you. Finish where you left. Don't leave anyone behind. Ah hahaha, You picked up so quick."

This Dragon Boat Festival, everyone received their bonus after all, funded by anonymous Mr. Zhao, really heart touching.

-----Continue W/ P2--------

Fan-art by -LLA- on Weibo.com, authorized for using. 

Go to my wattpad account to check the rest.  https://my.w.tt/mD5iXDc3pP

[me-on-set]

Harrowingly Strange

When was the last time you had to face a moral dilemma? I am still reeling. I actually just got home. I think I invented a new selfie style. I wanted to take a photo of my makeup on and off.

As I currently write this, I am not an actor but instead have been doing background work for the past year. I've occasionally been a featured extra and was a body double once.

It's fascinating, seeing and doing the work that embodies being on set.

A couple of days ago, I received a message from a casting agency that had my headshot asking to submit my photo for a featured non-speaking role with a local production company. It was a one or two day shoot at $200 per day. I said yes and I got the gig.

When you are cast, you get an email the night before with details about the set location, start time, special instructions, and wardrobe. This show I booked was for a reenactment TV series about real world events. The exciting news was that this particular episode revolved around a crisis that occurred in my parents' homeland. I was to play someone at home seeing the news on television, and then in a second scene complain to police of their incompetence. I was asked to bring leisure clothing one would wear at home.

When I first started being an extra, I would bring my clothes in a backpack, trying really hard not to care too much. That behavior did not last. I found my interest stumbling forward into a natural evolution. I started taking luggage to neatly carry my wardrobe options. I found that I would mostly get cast as a mid-30's businessman. This led me to comfortably bring my outfits in a garment bag. It's funny how familiarity can grow your views.

For today, I packed shorts, sweatpants, t-shirts, a hoodie, a pair of runners, and a pair of flip flops. I got these flip flops during my last vacation with my mom overseas in her hometown. I also brought some henley shirts and arrived on set in khakis and a short-sleeved polo because there was also a mention of button-ups being an option.

The majority of work involved as an extra is waiting. It's a good idea to bring a book, although in this day and age, occupying oneself with a smart phone is a much more fulfilling time killer. I didn't end up using any of the clothes I had brought except for my belt and my runners. After my hair and makeup were done I decided to satisfy my curiosity by searching keywords of this specific production. I searched the name of the character I was to reenact. Adding quotations to strict strings of words, I had soon discovered the event I was going to portray. This was when my moral dilemma began.

I was born and raised in North America by immigrant parents who arrived in their early 20's. The typical experiences had by people of color paint a relatively positive mural that represents my upbringing. Having visited my ethnic country many times throughout my life, I felt, and still feel, a deep connection to the motherland. This connection is common for others like myself, powered by identity in a time where life will sometimes present it as a limitation. Conversely, this only strengthens cultural pride.

The role I was to play was an international representing their countrymen against the very country I identify with. Pangs of uneasiness flooded my body. There was another featured role performer who had an earlier call time. We sat together in the holding area. He was cast to play the part of a family member learning the news of the event. What surprised me more was the fact that he was a recent immigrant from my country of ethnicity. Us both, cast in roles of coincidental conflict of interest?

When it comes to acting, the only other time I recall having feelings of apprehension was during a big budget movie filmed in a church. I was a church goer among a sea of church goers seated in church pews. We were instructed to portray the enjoyment of a church service. Some of us were selected to stand and sway to the Christian music. Some had their eyes closed, head tilted to the ceiling, palms facing up to the heavens. As easy a physical task that is, I instead opted to clap along to the band and pretend to really feel the sounds of my favorite music. I know it's just acting but I was driven by the thought of my mom seeing me do anything other than that on camera. So, I coursed the music through my veins. I know the history of the band members, the albums, this music moves me, pretend.

I received my paperwork and read it over a cup of coffee from craft services. It was standard paperwork that I've filled out over a dozen times before. I looked at the inviting exit door. I was parked right outside. This is not that big of a deal, is it? I imagined this TV episode making its way to the news overseas, the citizens all over the world deeming me a traitor for perpetuating a negative image, not merely through action but through representation against them. Against us. Am I selling out? For two hundred bucks?

I thought about getting up and leaving. I thought about all of the hard work that people have put into this specific production. If you haven't been behind the scenes before, it is quite the trip. An assortment of heavy duty cables line the floors, taped in place. Racks of props in designated areas. The backstage crew zip around in sync, bursting with walkie-talkie sounds and hollers of instruction. There is a commonality in the many interactions, their minds tuned into the goal meant to be achieved. This is their career.

This is my hobby. I am a prop. Would leaving this put a blemish on my record in the local film community, or the film industry as a whole, because I wasted everyone's time being sensitive? As I languished, I get a message from my best friend and I tell him I'm on set. I tell him:

For some reason, that makes me feel better. I just might be able to work with that mentality. The other guy has finished. He returns his wardrobe and collects his belongings. I ask him if he knows what this show is about. We speak in our language among the English-speakers. I ask him if he thinks people back home are going to be mad at us. I ask him if he knew we were going to be doing this. He seems ok with it all. He said he was there during the actual event. He's new to the industry. We laugh about how we can pass as different races. This is his first time being on camera. He said he enjoyed the experience. I ask him if he'll continue. He said yes. I hope he does.

Finally, wardrobe is set and I am wearing a navy blue golf shirt and some gray slacks. I want to feel good, like the other times I've worked. How can I get that feeling? They're calling me on set. They adjust the lighting while I sit in front of the camera. A fog machine fills the mock living room belonging to my character. When the camera rolls, there is a fake TV in front of me that I am to watch casually at first and then grow increasingly interested as the live footage I am pretending to watch unfolds. I am supposed to build up into a frustration with the host country. My country. As I understand it, the real guy is being interviewed and I am the reenactment; the illustration of his side of the story. I do the scene. Twice. Filming took less than 5 minutes total. The whole time I was thinking about my mom. I can remember it still, a few hours ago today, the director describing the gradual transpiring of the footage to guide me. To help me see a reason to be frustrated on camera. It wasn't helping. It's not his fault. I don't think it's anyone's fault. I don't think they even knew why I would be uncomfortable. I don't think they knew much about the countries involved in the event. They even spelled the city name wrong. I don't even think the takes were that bad.

I wish it wasn't about my country. If it were different, I feel like I could have given more - like I had done at the church.

It's unsettling to perform make-believe, but for myself I have managed to apply a mental exercise that immerses me into a character; to actually be the person. The trick is to relate. To tie the emotion to a real memory and relive it. If it had only been about another country, I'm sure I would have enjoyed the process a lot more.

I'm writing this and I was hoping it would help me shake away this dread. Thoughts of regret imagining if I had only researched the keywords sooner. Maybe I would have cancelled. But that wouldn't have been better. I would be blacklisted and never cast as another role again. Or maybe I'm being dramatic. Hey, that's good for this line of work, right?

I honestly hope the final cut looks great. This is the biggest role I've ever been in. They gelled my hair funny like a nerd, I had on large framed glasses, just like the portrayed, and they put makeup on my upper lip to hide my dark, clean-shaven stubble.

When I got home, before I washed my makeup off, I took a before and after mirror selfie because my face looked comedically smooth. Taking the pictures reminded me of when I was sipping coffee in the holding area. I had taken pictures of my paperwork. I remember my mind racing. The feeling was like gathering license plates and insurance information after a collision. You know, just in case I have to stand trial, my cultural membership in jeopardy. I can review my situation with a lawyer to see what I can and can not say during a variety show interview that is getting my side of the story after viral, captioned screenshots of me flood the internet with embarrassing memes, stamped into history. Jesus Christ, that would be the worst. Here I go again with extreme maybes. It's an entertaining curse that I will forever be engulfed in my own hypothetical torture.

Anyway, here's that selfie I invented:

Yeah my bathroom mirrors are dirty.

I can't wait for my next job that I can cleanse my palate with. I really hope I can accept today as purely an actor's portrayal, and not a turncoat betrayal. This can't be my last go at acting. I ate some of my country's food for supper. I feel a bit better. I'm wearing a shirt that is emblazoned with our country's sports hero.

I have always been excited to see the final release of a production I am in, except for this one now. Uncontrollably, my perverse curiosity into the film world is only strengthening, so I don't think even the worst thoughts can slow my future participation. The silver lining is that the uncomfortable bar is set to a new level. I could reenact a murderous deviant now without batting a moral eyelash, I like to think. All for the sake of film.

- WSS, February 8, 2019

[talabib]

How To Living An Authentically Happy Life

Why do we strive to achieve certain milestones? Things like finding a romantic partner, moving up the ranks in our company, or getting a raise? It’s because we believe these things will make us happier. And in reality, they might – but not profoundly.

Why are we so anxious to avoid certain traumatic events? Events like divorce, being fired, or receiving a drastic pay cut? That’s because we believe these things will make us unhappy. But that story is more complicated, too.

It turns out that many of us are going about the pursuit of happiness all wrong. But we can still find long-term happiness by making small adjustments to our everyday lives.

There’s no recipe for happiness.

When will you be happy? Will you be happy when you meet and marry the partner of your dreams? When you finally make it to the corner office?

We’re conditioned to pin our hopes for happiness on reaching socially prescribed milestones like these. It’s true that attaining these milestones might bring an initial thrill and even have a net positive effect on our lives. But they rarely bring lasting happiness.

A joint experiment conducted by Harvard University and the University of Virginia concluded that we have a tendency to overestimate the degree of happiness a positive event will bring into our lives. At the same time, we have a tendency to overestimate the negative impact that a misfortune – like illness or financial stress – will have on the trajectory of our lives.

In other words, we arrange our lives around milestones, both positive and negative. We strive toward the positive milestones, believing they will bring us authentic happiness. And we do everything in our power to avoid the negative milestones, believing they will devastate us.

But the reality is, our positive accomplishments can quickly turn anticlimactic when they don’t live up to our expectations. Meanwhile, we avoid taking risks and making changes because we’re desperate to avoid life’s negative events.

In truth, these events are rarely as irrevocably bad as we imagine them to be. In fact, recent studies suggest that people who’ve experienced some degree of trauma and adversity in their lives are, on the whole, happier than those who haven’t.

There are two key explanations for this. The first is that surviving hardship once equips us with the skills to overcome it again. The second explanation is that profoundly negative events, like losing a job, can catalyze beneficial changes in life, like finally pursuing a dream career.

While we could work toward positive events or strain to avoid negative events, neither approach brings true happiness. Instead, we need to abandon the harmful myth that happiness, or unhappiness, hinges on achieving or failing to achieve superficial milestones.

We quickly adapt to the thrill of love and happiness.

Your wedding day is supposed to be the happiest day of your life, right? That seems kind of crazy, given how much stress and social pressure weddings involve!

Even crazier? The expectation that your marriage will bring you a consistently high level of happiness throughout your life. It won’t.

In fact, a 2005 study shows that the average newlywed reports an uplift in happiness in the first two years of their marriage. After that? Their happiness levels return to normal.

This surprisingly brief uptick in newlyweds’ happiness is just one example of hedonic adaptation. This psychological term describes humankind’s capability to adapt to a positive change in circumstances. Simply put, we experience an initial thrill when we get something we want. Soon enough, however, our improved circumstances become our new normal.

The theory of hedonic adaptation applies to all areas of life. But things are a bit more complicated when it comes to romantic relationships. When we first fall in love with someone, we typically experience passionate love. This kind of love is thrilling, all-consuming, and sexually charged. In passionate love, we lose interest in everyone besides our new partner. We find it difficult to concentrate on everyday tasks because we’re always thinking about our partner. We’re also terrified of rejection in this initial stage.

Passionate love has a limited life span – a few months to a few years. And that’s a good thing! Imagine how your work, your other relationships, and your mental well-being would suffer if you thought of nothing but your romantic partner day in and day out!

After passionate love comes companionate love, a love that is rooted in trust and respect for our partner. We’re evolutionarily conditioned to experience passionate love for others. After all, it’s ensured the biological survival of our species. But we’re also evolutionarily conditioned to experience companionate love. This is the grounded, practical type of love that helps us navigate challenges like child-rearing, illness, and financial setbacks.

So, if you’re feeling like the thrill of your relationship has worn off, don’t download Tinder just yet. Celebrate the fact that you’re in a healthy new phase of attachment. And if you still want to keep the spark alive? Well, here are a few tips.

Relationships don’t need to be new to be thrilling.

Let’s say you and your partner have been together for a couple of years. Dinner dates at hot restaurants have given way to takeout and box sets on the couch. Once upon a time, you’d look at your partner and think, I can’t wait to tear their clothes off! Now, you’re just as likely to think, I should remind them to pay the gas bill.

All this is normal. It’s the result of hedonic adaptation and of passionate love metamorphosing into companionate love. Does that mean you should settle down and resign yourself to living a satisfying, yet spark-free, life? Absolutely not!

When hedonic adaptation creeps into a relationship, it doesn’t mean the relationship has stopped being positive. We’ve simply stopped noticing its positives. But there are three simple strategies that will help you perceive all the positives in your relationship with fresh eyes.

First up? Cultivate appreciation for your partner. In the early days of your relationship, appreciation probably came naturally to you. But as you adapt yourself to their good qualities, you face the danger of taking your partner for granted. So, resist the urge to adapt, and focus your awareness on the things you love about your partner. You could try simply writing these down – or, write them a letter outlining all the ways they make your life better.

Second, keep things surprising. Hedonic adaptation isn’t an inevitability. Psychologists have found that people are far less likely to exhibit hedonic adaptation in dynamic situations. Resist the routine, and find simple ways to surprise your partner. Be more adventurous as a couple and as individuals. You can’t expect your relationship to stay surprising if you’re stuck in a rut yourself.

Finally, get physical – and not just in the bedroom. Both sexual and non-sexual physical touch is a hugely significant part of most romantic relationships. Even simple contact, like brushing your partner's arm, can activate your brain’s reward system and reduce stress and anxiety. What’s more, touch has an important role to play in nonverbal communication. It can signal love, gratitude, and sympathy. Deployed correctly, it can de-escalate tension and foster intimacy.

So if you’re feeling physically distanced from your partner, try touching them more. Stroke their forehead, hold their hand, kiss them when they leave for work. These small, simple gestures can help you rekindle your passion for one another.

Remember: happiness and passion are still present in comfortable, long-term relationships. You might just need to work a little harder to find them.

Divorce is tough – but probably not as tough as you imagine.

It’s a myth that marriage leads to happiness. But there’s also a mythical flip side to this belief – that happiness is impossible after divorce or the breakdown of a long-term relationship. This myth is so entrenched in our imaginations that many people persist in broken marriages. They think they’re saving themselves from the unhappiness of a divorce.

Of course, it would be disingenuous to say that divorce doesn’t bring unhappiness. But that unhappiness probably won’t be as debilitating or as permanent as you imagine it will be.

Disentangling your life from your partner’s can be fraught with emotions, legal bureaucracy, and practical problems like splitting finances and custody. But in spite of all these short-term challenges, there’s some hope. Numerous surveys show that happiness levels among divorcées rise substantially in the long term.

How can people be happy after going through such a traumatic, life-shaking event? It’s simple – humans possess an incredible capacity for resilience. We have an almost supernatural ability to cope with trauma, find the positive in the negative, and grow from crises. Yet, in many of us, this potential remains untapped. That’s because we avoid traumatic events like divorce. We believe they’ll leave us permanently broken. They won’t.

Remember hedonic adaptation, our ability to grow accustomed to newly positive circumstances? Well, it works in reverse, too. In the two years after a divorce, respondents to a 1991 study reported feeling increased psychological distress. After that? They rebounded. In fact, they reached a higher happiness level than they’d reported having in their marriage.

When we visualize divorce, all we imagine is the pain. But there’s so much more to everyday life. We don’t visualize the daily uplifts, like a delicious cup of coffee in the morning or a spectacular sunset, that bring happiness to even our worst days. And we don’t visualize the work commitments, social obligations, hobbies, errands, and more that fill our days – even during a divorce.

In fact, in a 2000 study, half of respondents who were considering divorce were asked to list all the commitments and activities that would fill their days post-divorce. The other half weren’t. The participants were then asked to visualize how bad divorce would be. Unsurprisingly, those who had imagined their life in more detail had a more moderate view of the pain of divorce. Divorce won’t make you unhappy forever. But a toxic marriage just might.

There is no perfect job.

You hate the sound of your alarm on weekday mornings. By the time you arrive at your desk at 9:00 a.m., you’re already counting down the minutes until you can leave. You’re disengaged in meetings, your coworkers irritate you, and you perform your tasks with all the enthusiasm of a robot.

It wasn’t always like this. Your first few years in this job were enjoyable and challenging. But that’s definitely not the case these days.

Maybe you need to change jobs. Or maybe you need to admit to yourself that you’ve bought into another widespread happiness myth – that you’ll be happy as soon as you have a better job.

Unless you’re stuck in a toxic workplace or itching for a career change, a new job might not bring you more satisfaction than your old one. A five-year study from 2005 tracked the happiness levels of managers who were promoted or transferred to a new city. After an intense surge in satisfaction in the first year, their happiness levels swiftly returned to baseline. Thanks to hedonic adaptation, the managers quickly became accustomed to the perks of their new positions. So chasing better and better jobs in search of happiness may not be such a good idea.

Then again, maybe the source of your job dissatisfaction isn’t your job, but someone else’s? In the age of social media, it’s never been easier to compare ourselves with others. All too often, instead of asking ourselves, “Does my job bring me satisfaction?” we ask, “Is my job as glamorous, or important, or well-paid as my neighbor’s?”

We are conditioned from an early age to compare ourselves to those around us. We can’t kick the habit completely. But the next time you’re feeling inadequate, it's worth checking in on that self-evaluation. Are you unhappy with yourself because you failed to meet your own internal standards, or are you just comparing yourself against the achievements of others?

Want to be happier at work? Cultivate an appreciation for the things you do enjoy about your job to stave off hedonic adaptation. And don’t base your job satisfaction on superficial comparisons to other people’s careers.

Money can buy happiness – but only up to a point.

Remember that old saying, money can’t buy happiness? Well, psychological study after psychological study has proven it to be false. After all, money can buy comfort and security, take care of fundamental needs, and provide pleasures and luxuries. Generally speaking, the more wealth someone has, the higher levels of happiness they’re likely to report. But there might be a grain of truth in the old saying, too.

People who don’t have much money experience a marked surge in happiness when they acquire more. But this happiness has diminishing returns. When someone has a lot of money, acquiring still more will make them happy – but not by much, and not for very long. The wealthier someone is, the more quickly they adapt to having more money.

So, when it comes to happiness, material comfort does play a role. But it’s not the be-all and end-all we sometimes think it is. And being thrifty might actually be good for your happiness.

Let’s use the example of buying a house. You can derive a lot of positive emotion from making a purchase. And purchases don’t get any bigger than a luxurious house with a sprawling garden. But the mind quickly gets over the pleasure of the purchase. Soon, you’ll even be used to the positive experience of living in a plush house.

While we adapt to positive experiences quickly, negative experiences can take longer to bounce back from. And paying off the high mortgage attached to that luxurious house is a negative experience that will likely cause stress and tension at monthly intervals – years after the pleasure of the house itself has waned.

But there’s a way out. Let’s say you sell your big house, and purchase a more modest home. You’ll face less day-to-day unhappiness and stress, even if you don’t get the short-term rush of making an extravagant purchase. What’s more, you’ve reduced your negative experience overall. A 1997 study shows that diminishing a negative experience can create three to five times as much happiness as simply creating a positive experience. Paying off your credit card, for example, will make you at least three times as happy as charging a new TV to it would.

So yes, money is an important component of happiness. But you can’t completely buy your way to happiness, either.

A difficult diagnosis is life-altering, but happiness is still possible.

Every life is marked by events that come, out of the blue, to disrupt our happiness and comfort. A life-changing event like that can rock us to our very core. A diagnosis of a serious or terminal illness is one such event.

If you or your loved one is dealing with a difficult diagnosis, you may feel you have no capacity for happiness anymore. But you do. And now, more than ever, it’s essential that you tap into it.

When we receive bad news, it’s tempting to focus on that, to the exclusion of all else. But consider the words of the philosopher William James. He said: “My experience is what I agree to attend to.” In other words, our reality is shaped by the things we choose to focus on. Sure, a random negative event can make us feel like reality is spinning out of our control. But if we refocus our attention, we can gain back some of that control.

What we attend to and what we overlook can shape our reality, even during a serious illness. We can try focusing on the pleasure of watching the garden grow, rather than on the pangs of sickness. We can try appreciating the fact that we can still climb the stairs, rather than getting discouraged because we can’t manage our morning jog. When we choose to focus on the positives, we create a more joyful reality.

That’s not to say that this mental work is easy. It requires huge determination and effort. To train your attention, try meditation. This practice revolves around focusing on your breath, on your thoughts, or on a combination of the two. As a 2007 study confirms, meditation markedly improves our capacity for directing and maintaining our focus.

You might wonder, What’s the point of trying to be positive in the face of devastating news? Well, psychologists have identified a phenomenon called the Matthew effect. In the Bible, Matthew says: “For to all those who have, more will be given, and it will be given in abundance.” And, in an emotional context, psychologists have found this to be true. A positive emotional experience generates more positive emotional experiences. This leads to what’s called an upward spiral.

Even in the midst of trying times, any happiness that you can create for yourself will act like a magnet, inviting more happiness into your life.

Regrets are compatible with happiness.

There are dreams that you grow out of, like a childhood wish to be an astronaut or a princess. And then there are dreams you are forced to give up – the dream of making partner at your firm, the dream of professionally pursuing your love of painting, the dream of being married or having a child.

These second kinds of unfulfilled dreams often harden into regret. And regrets, so the myth goes, keep us from being truly happy. But they don’t need to.

In fact, facing up to our regrets is a critical part of living a happy life. It’s healthy to deal with what psychologists term our lost possible selves. Imagine two college athletes – let’s call them Lucy and Alejandro – who both dream of Olympic stardom. These aren’t empty dreams, either. The athletes are incredibly talented, and they get the chance to try out for the Olympic team. But they both narrowly miss out – and are both bitterly disappointed. Over the next decade, the two athletes continue to pursue their dream. Eventually, age and injury force them to give up.

Lucy takes some time to come to terms with the blow. Then, she recalibrates her life. She gets a nine-to-five job and coaches sports on the weekends. She still competes in a local league. She’s proud of her athletic achievements. She’s happy.

Meanwhile, Alejandro hates being reminded of his athletic past. He’s thrown away all his old trophies and never participates in athletics anymore. He’s unhappy.

Lucy faced her regrets and mourned for her lost possible Olympian self. In examining her regret, she asked what she could learn from it. Her takeaway? She has a passion for sports. So she arranged her life to serve that passion.

Alejandro turned away from his regret. He believed that dwelling on it would make him unhappy. But his refusal to acknowledge past regrets has soured his present. It cut him off from what was once a source of joy.

Our regrets can be our teachers. They can reveal the kinds of lives we want and the things that are important to us. More painfully, they can show us where we’ve made mistakes in life. But admitting to these mistakes keeps us from repeating them.

All lives have regrets. To live a happy life, have an honest reckoning with yours.

There’s no recipe for happiness. But the first step to living an authentically happy life is to let go of a couple of myths – like thinking that attaining socially approved milestones will make you happy, or that facing certain events will bring permanent unhappiness. Freeing yourself from your expectations will make room for true happiness in your life.

Action plan: Share the wealth.

Studies show that more money doesn’t really bring happiness to those who are already wealthy. But one thing that can bring happiness to affluent people? Sharing their good fortune with others. A 2008 study found that spending money pro-socially, or for a good cause that we don’t personally benefit from, increases happiness levels more than spending money on ourselves.