#but recently they seem to have found a balance between privacy and sharing what they want to share

[dykephan]

i've never expected a hard launch but the shuffleboard video has fully changed my mind. btw

[sacredsorceress]

Paint || Peter Parker

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: peter sees a figure walking through the trees during his run and investigates only to meet a girl named y/n painting in the woods.

a/n: requested by anon! a short and sweet meeting story.

word count: 2.1k

warnings: none, fluff

masterlist || request

Peter was almost regretting his decision to join the Avengers at the moment. Nearly getting himself killed dozens of times by adversaries was nothing compared to the run Cap had him and the other Avengers going on in what he considered to be the middle of nowhere. Although he had superhuman abilities that had definitely aided in his run at the beginning, he could feel himself struggling for air and his legs beginning to ache.

A few of the others had already fallen behind a while back and Peter felt himself about to trip over his own feet as he began to run slower.

“Getting tired?” None other than Steve himself asked, running up behind him.

Peter jumped, but then began to push himself to run faster. “N-no. No sir.” Peter huffed. “This... is... easy.”

Cap eyed Peter. “You should take a breather, kid. There’s no harm in that.”

Although Peter was always one to go out of his way to impress the Avengers- especially Captain America- he could barely breathe and his whole body felt like it was just begging for him to take a break.

“A- are you... sure?” Peter asked in between breaths.

“You know your way back?” Steve asked, matching Peter’s pace.

Peter, running out of breath, no longer able to speak just nodded.

“Alright kid. I’ll see you back at the Compound.”

And with that, he picked up his pace, leaving Peter behind. Peter slowed to a stop and doubled over with his hands on his knees, heaving and struggling for breath. He attempted to salute in Cap’s direction, but he had already run past Peter’s point of view.

Still breathing heavy and exhausted, Peter stumbled over to the side of the road and flopped down on his back onto the grass. He turned his head to the side and as he did he saw a figure making their way through the trees.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “H- hey!” He called, but no one answered.

Peter pulled himself up, balancing himself on his elbows to get a better look before calling again. “Hello?”

After he once again did not receive an answer, he pulled himself onto his feet. He questioned whether he really did see someone or if the figure was just a figment of his imagination. He was unable to ask any of the others for reassurance since they either fell behind a while ago or they were ahead with Steve. Deciding to trust this own instincts, Peter began walking through the woods, using his “Peter tingle” as Aunt May liked to call it, to know where to go.

He stopped when he heard the snap of a twig and the rustling of leaves. Following the noise, he carefully walked over the branches scattered across the ground, not trying to alarm whoever he had just followed into the woods. As he approached where the noise had come from, he stopped and attempted to hide himself behind a tree.

In front of him he saw a girl pulling a chair up and off from the top of a table, onto the ground. He watched as she sat down in the chair, opening the bag at her side and pulling out a pad of paper, along with a tray of what he assumed to be paint and brushes. 

He knew he probably should have turned around and that this was an invasion of privacy, but he couldn’t help but watch as she painted. He was lured in by how peaceful she seemed. Around them was a peaceful quiet, with only the sounds of birds and the breeze flowing through the trees able to be heard. 

It was so much different than what he had been used to. Even before he discovered that he had superpowers, he had lived in the city and there seemed to never be a moment of complete silence- from sirens at all hours of the day to groups of people chatting outside his window at all hours of the night. He thought he had found peace in the noise, but he had barely known the peacefulness of quiet.

Now that he was Spider-Man, it was even harder to find peace whether he was in the city protecting locals or tagging along with the Avengers to save humanity. He was so busy all of the time, it was difficult for him to find peace and quiet, never mind the serenity he felt around him in this exact moment.

Just as he was becoming lost in his own thoughts, he was pulled out of them by the snapping of a twig beneath his feet. As he did, his eyes went wide and he watched as the unnamed girl, jumped from her seat to her feet, scattering brushes and papers along the ground.

He threw his hands up in the air. “I’m sorry!” He spoke.

“Who are you?” She asked. “Did you... did you follow me?”

He could tell her heart rate was speeding up, worried that some random boy had followed her into the woods. That’s fair, he thought.

“No!” He said, quickly. “I mean yeah- yes. But not in a creepy way! I just saw someone walk into the woods and I called and no one said anything so I- I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay.”

She just stared at him.

“You know what? I should go. Yeah. I’m gonna leave you alone.” He said, about to turn around.

“Wait.” She called, finally speaking up and stopping him. “Are you... an Avenger?” 

Now his heart was the one racing. “What? No!” He chuckled nervously. “Why... what would make you think that?”

She smiled, pointing at his t-shirt. “Because you have their logo on your shirt and it’s the only place out here for like a mile.”

Peter glanced down at the gray t-shirt he was wearing with the Avengers logo printed across his chest. Quickly, he attempted to spin a lie. “Oh this? No. Nope.” He shook his head. “I just... work... at the Avengers Compound. I... hand out waters and stuff to um Thor and ya know... other... people.”

There was a pause as the they stared at each other.

“I’m Y/n.” You told him, moving your hand out to shake his.

He calmed down as you introduced yourself and your own heart settled, knowing now that you weren’t scared of him- meaning you either believed what he said or just simply accepted his lie about working at the Avengers Compound. It wasn’t a whole lie, he told himself though. He did “work” there and occasionally, as the youngest person there, was asked to fetch water from time to time.

“Peter.” He said, taking your hand. “So... what are you doing out here?”

You then remembered what you had come out here for in the first place. You spun around turning back to look at your set up. “Oh!” You exclaimed. “I come out here sometimes to paint. It's really peaceful, you know?”

Peter nodded. He had just been thinking the same thing before he first saw you. It had been difficult for him to know peace for a long time, but here he felt as though he could breath even if it was for a short time.

“I know what you mean.” He told you, then glancing at the mess he had caused when he first spooked you. “Let me help.” He smiled, gesturing to the paint brushes and loose papers scattered along the floor.

You turned around, looking at the mess behind you. “You don’t have to. It’s okay!” You told him, striding over to your workspace and beginning to haphazardly organize the area.

Despite your assurances that you could clean up yourself, Peter followed behind you and began picking up your scattered paintings on the ground.

“You did all of these yourself?” He asked.

You watched as Peter stared at each of your quick paintings in his hand. He, admittedly, did not understand much about art, but he was in awe at the work he saw in front of him. The paintings he held in his hands depicted what he believed to be fairies sitting light as a feather on flowers and hidden in the trees. The design itself was soft and gentle and he was afraid to ruin something so precious in his hands. 

“Yeah,” You chuckled.

“They’re really good.” He told you, impressed. “I wish I could do stuff like this. How do you even do this?”

You smiled. A part of you was always nervous showing your paintings to someone else, especially a stranger, but it made you feel warm inside to have this cute, sweaty boy complimenting you on your art and impressed with your skill.

“Everyone has their thing.” You told him. “What about you?”

Peter then thought about his abilities, but for obvious reasons he couldn’t divulge on his strengths without the risk of exposing his identity. Although he couldn’t share that part of himself with you- someone he just met- it made him remember who he was without his abilities- the skills and talents he possessed without the assistance of an accidental spider bite.

“My friend and I build lego sets.” He shrugged.

“That can’t be it.” You laughed. “Come on! What are things you’re good at?”

Peter hadn’t been asked that question in regards to just himself in a while. He felt that people only cared about him recently because he was Spider-Man, not because he was Peter Parker. It felt good for someone to care about him for more than the things he couldn’t control.

“Sciency stuff I guess.” He told you as the two of you stood up and he handed you back your paintings.

You smiled, accepting the pages back and placing them on the table. “See! And you thought you weren’t good at anything.”

Peter smiled before scratching the back of his neck. “So... do you always hang out here in your free time?”

You sat back in your chair, this time organizing your desk space again. You placed your current work-in-progress in front of you and set out your paints. Taking a brush from one of those scattered across the table and dipping it in your desired color you laughed. “Not all the time. Why do you ask?”

Peter felt himself stiffen up. He knew why, but he didn’t want to say it out loud. It wasn’t often he met new people and felt comfortable enough around them, but around you, there was a carefree air. Although he had barely learnt anything about you besides your name and your inclination for painting in the wilderness, he wanted to learn more about you.

“Oh... well... you know...” He began. “Maybe we could hang out sometime? Not in the woods I mean. Not that there’s anything wrong with it! I just- you know-”

At that he heard the strokes of your brush halt on the page as you lifted it and set it down in the glass of water in front of you. You turned back in your chair to look at him, leaning your arm over the back of it. “Like a date?” You asked, cutting him off.

Even though Peter had been through a lot that most teenagers his age had never experienced- that some would even claim required an excessive amount of bravery- he still got flustered when you asked him whether it was a date or not. He thought you were interesting and wanted to get to know you regardless. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in going on a date with you, but he also didn’t want to risk facing rejection and embarrassment.

What do you have to lose? He asked himself.

“I’m sorry if that was forward-” You began as he took a bit longer than you had anticipated for him to answer.

“Yeah. Like a date.” He cut you off. “If you want to anyway... you don’t have to.”

For what felt like the hundredth time since you first met him a few minutes ago, you smiled. “I’d like that.”

And with that you and Peter exchanged numbers before he insisted you go back to painting and that people would begin looking for him soon if he didn’t get back to his run. When his feet hit the road to start running again, he felt a new bolt of energy and pride rush through him as he thought about the cool painter girl’s number he had just gotten in the woods and the date he would share with you that upcoming weekend.

[nevertheless-moving]

Pop Star Wars AU: Waking

Drabble set in this au which I wrote way back a few weeks ago.

Back then, I had only recently decided to look up my tumblr password for a third attempt at being an appreciative fandom community member instead of just trying to think really hard at internet strangers, and maybe shout into the void a little. (But there’s like, several people here now??? How did you even find me on the internet? )

Anyway I have since learned how to spell Anakin’s name and insert links. Also that if you resize your window while typing directly into tumblr everything disappears.

Self Indulgent Crack Pop Star Wars Time Travel Fixit (star wars au no 3):

After several years of exile in the Jundland Wastes, Ben Kenobi had not quite finished mentally unpacking the decades of mistakes, grief, and failure that had led him to the desert. It was the work of a lifetime, and some days were harder than others. But after several forays in and out of alcoholism, spice addiction, and every other form of geographically-accessible self-destruction, he could at least say that some days were easier. 

The process was no doubt made more difficult by the abject solitude. Unlike the chaotic years that constituted the fall of the Republic, he had all too much time to think, and no one around to share his thoughts with. He closed his eyes in the dark of his hut, thoughts drifting between past and future. 

The past was as ugly and lovely as ever. The larger future didn’t look much better, but he could find some joy in the thought of tomorrow and fresh bantha milk when the herd roamed near. Owen was always much less begrudging of his presence when he came with an offering, and Beru would likely invite him to stay for noon meal where he would share in fresh cheese as Luke rambled about his plans to fix-up a junked speeder bike.

The thought of Luke’s happiness at the treat allowed him enough peace of mind to meditate more deeply.

He carefully broke off a piece of unfair-bitterness from his larger loving-grief. The bitterness he released into the force. The grief he turned over and soothed until its edges dissolved. He accepted it, now smoother if not smaller, laying it to rest alongside his hard-earned wisdom and unfinished poetry.

Tired, but fractionally lighter, Ben Kenobi drifted to sleep.

He opened his eyes to the first rays of daylight peeking in his temple chambers.

The room was intimately familiar. For a few years they were Ashoka’s, on the rare occasion she found herself temple-side and in want of privacy but not complete solitude. For a solid decade before her, the chambers were Anakin’s, though he was quick enough to accept the common room couch when Ashoka entered their life. And before that...they were his. That was his model rocket on the shelf, and his astronomical mobile hanging from the ceiling, and his robes scattered on the floor, though they hadn’t been arranged as such in this room since his apprenticeship with Qui-Gon. He sat up. 

Glad he had put energy into meditation last night, he used the lingering clarity of mind to try and work through possible explanations. 

Vivid Dream? No a quick pinch to his inner elbow debunked that, as well as the fact that the morning taste in his mouth was more the minty tang of denti-cleaner, rather than the saltiness of dried meat which he had grown accustomed to.

Hallucinogenic mushroom flashback? Possible, though it still wouldn’t explain the detail of physical sensations he felt, running his hand from the temple-spun linens on his bed to the warm-carved wood of his bedside table. He stood and did a perfect forward flip in place. Shockingly his knees didn’t ache at impact, but a drug induced hallucination of this intensity would have some sort of impact on his equilibrium, and he felt perfectly balanced, at least physically.

Force vision seemed most likely. Sinking into cross-legged meditation, he gradually lowered his mental shields. There was no whisper of Vader or Palpatine anywhere near Hutt space at this time, so the risk of reaching out was both manageable and necessary. Rather than the pure energy he personally associated with intense visions, he felt gradients of light, echoing ripples of emotions, and the unique solidity of force-imbued stone walls.

Heart beginning to race as reality set in, Ben concluded that he was, indeed, in the Jedi temple on Courascant. Even if he had suffered a complete psychotic break, his force sense couldn’t lie with such crystal clear detail. Confused unreality mixed with images of the past and future, sure. But this was the temple. It just was. 

He couldn’t make sense of it. Even if he had somehow been found, drugged, and transported to the heart of the empire, the rooms as he sensed them didn’t exist anymore. The contents were lost or burnt, the stone walls destroyed and rebuilt into a wing of the Imperial Palace.

Obi-Wan sank deeper into the force and reached out further, searching for he answers. In general, the force felt light, the shroud of the darkside was a hazy irritation in the distance, not a smothering blanket. The manifold wounds in the force formed by senseless war and destruction were absent. Also gone were the tang of grief and loss that he had begun to associate with the temple’s signature even before- even before the purge.

The temple was also full to the brim with tens of thousands of lights in the living force. He reached out to them incredulously, nudging many just to feel a living, sentient response. The last time he remembered feeling so many Jedi all in the temple at the same time was...well, when he still lived in this room. The nearest living force sensitive presence was achingly familiar, though notably and unquestioningly living. He could feel the presence moving nearer and retreated, pulling himself fully back into his body.

The only explanation that fit was that he had suddenly, miraculously, inexplicably traveled back in time. 

He half ran to his closet, opening the door with a yank to reveal a full length mirror. A once-familiar, 25-year old padawan stared back with visible shock. Of course his knees didn’t hurt, this body hadn’t yet been broken and abused by knighthood, war, and Tatooine. His hands examined the smooth chin, the unwrinkled forehead, and even the terrible, terrible haircut.

Obi-wan startled at a knock at his door, freezing in place. 

“Padawan?” Came Qui-Gon Jinn’s voice softly, “I don’t intend to pull you out of meditation prematurely, but is there a particular reason you were sprawling over the temple this morning? You startled me somewhat. To be perfectly honest, I think you might have alarmed a few people around the temple, I’ve already received messages from council telling me to reign in my padawan before he hurts himself.” 

Qui-Gon sounded more amused than reprimanding, and he paused, clearly waiting for an answer. 

Obi-Wan’s jaw locked up. What could he say? How could he even to begin to explain what had happened? He sank to floor, head pressed to the ground and tears silent streaming down his face. All he could do was offer to the force were words, the feelings could come later Thank you. Thank youThankyouthankyouTHANKYOU. 

For whatever reason, the force had granted him a second chance. Regardless if it was intended as punishment, gift, or inexplicable chance, he would build a better future than the one he left behind. 

“Padawan?” Qui-Gon knocked again, sounding concerned, “Are you alright? If you don’t answer I’m going to have to come in there.”

And all at once he had flipped back to not enough time to think and too many people needing his attention.

Obi-Wan managed to open his mouth to call out some meaningless assurance, intent on gaining more time to process the fantastical situation. Much to his surprise, what came out was a strangled, keening sob. Qui-Gon burst through the door. 

Obi-Wan realized, with a little embarrassment, that he was curled up practically into a ball on the floor, tears streaming in a shocking waste of water. It was probably not the most dignified, nor the most reassuring position for Qui-Gon to walk in on. 

Qui-Gon rushed to his side, pulling him up by the shoulders to frantically look him over. “What happened?” he demanded, “Are you hurt? Did something go wrong while you were meditating and you were trying to reach out for help?”

Obi-Wan smiled at the barrage of questions. He had almost forgotten that on the rare occasions when Qui-Gon’s perfect Jedi serenity broke, he became somewhat counterproductively intense. 

“I’m alright, Master,” he tried to say, but what came out was more of a croaking, “MNNrlerR.” 

This predictably, only increased Qui-Gon’s concern.

To Obi-Wan’s deep consternation, he was dragged by Qui-Gon to the healer’s wing. He remained quiet during the examination, not wanting to risk whatever was compromising his ability to speak. It could be readjusting to his younger body, or a manifestation of the admittedly great emotional shock he was still experiancing. Or simple lack of practice- it had been several weeks since he had last heard the sound of his own voice, from a certain point of view.

After finding no physical cause for concern, Master Vyr asked Qui-Gon to wait outside.

“Padawan Kenobi?” The Tortugan healer asked gently. “Your Master seems quite insistent that something is wrong. Would you like to discuss what the problem seems to be?”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and was relieved when his voice came out smooth and under his control, “I’m alight, Master. I apologize for disruption. I experienced a... particularly strong vision when I woke up this morning, and temporarily lost control over myself. I’m already feeling more stable. I believe I simply need to meditate on what I’ve seen. My master unfortunately came in while I was dealing with some of the emotional aftermath.

“I see,” Vyr responded. “Did you experience this vision before or after your expansive foray into the force? I understand a surprising swath of the temple felt your presence press against them this morning.”

“I reached out after,” Obi-Wan admitted. “My vision was...particularly dark. I felt the need to ground myself with the presence of other Jedi. I’ll make certain to apologize to anyone I may have startled.”

Eventually he was cleared with the strict instruction to stick with shallow meditation for the next few days as well as a strong recommendation to seek out Master Yoda, Sifo-Dryfas, or one of the other Master known to experience visions. 

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan walked back to their quarters together in a peaceful quiet. It wasn’t until the door clicked behind them that Qui-Gon rounded on his padawan.

“What vision could possibly have left you in such distress?”

Obi-Wan walked to the kitchenette to make tea, stalling before answering. “You have always told me to stay focused on the present, Master”

Qui-Gon frowned. “Yes, however this...vision seems to have altered you somehow. You are grieved by it.”

“Yes. But what I grieve may never come to pass.” 

It won’t come to pass. I might not know his every tool, but I do know Sideous’s biggest secret, and I WILL stop him.

“Will you not tell me what you saw?” Qui-Gon asked, sounding somewhat hurt.

Obi-Wan poured the hot water carefully, feeling torn. If he told Qui-Gon everything... would he believe him? Perhaps, eventually but...what would become of Anakin, still just a boy? And the moment he knew of Palpatine’s evil...he knew Qui-Gon. He would favor the direct approach, underestimating the sheer breadth of the trap the sith had laid (Obi-Wan himself lived through it and only began to understand long after it had closed).

“I saw...a great shadow fall over the republic.”

He sat at the table, relishing in the simple pleasure of pouring a cup for Qui-Gon and himself from a shared pot.

Qui-Gon cradled his mug in his hands. “I see. Nothing specific?”

“Your death. At the hands of a tool of darkness. You ran ahead...” Obi-Wan took a scorching sip to stop himself. “It was foolish. Unnecessary. And I was forced to fight alone without you.

Qui-Gon set the tea down to stroke his beard in thought. “Well. I have no great desire to die. While I make no promises, I will endeavor to avoid leaving you behind ‘unnecessarily.’”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan replied, over sincere. 

They drank in peaceful silence. It was interrupted by a shrill noise from Qui-Gon’s comm.

“I’ve just received a personal request from the Chancellor to immediately assist in negotiations with a Trade Federation blockade around Naboo. Are you feeling up to it?”

“You know, I think I am”

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Richard, man of contradictions..

In the past i did some rammblings on

Olli the balanced

My take on Till

Paul - the chameleon - Landers

(and for some reason i think i did Flake as well, but i can't seem to find it) (i blame tumblr.. 😁)..and i always wanted to do one on Richard, but for some reason that appeared a lot more difficult.. i think it's because he seems to be a man of contradictions..

'the only rockstar in the band' 《》 not nearly as much in the public eye as other musicians (or some bandmates)

needs 'drama' (even sometimes creates it) 《》 would like it best if the others just went along with him

very much into sex and drugs and rock&roll 《》 seemingly quite happy to just hang out at home and work

very fickle in relationships (work, but i think also privatly) 《》 absolutely devoted to his family and (very close) friends

very much aware of appearance&looks 《》 happy to go out (and publish photos of himself on IG) in the same casual outfit he has been wearing for ages (and even a reasonbly priced one at that)

confident in defending his work against the others' criticism 《》 a worrier, always thinking it isn't good enough, wanting to do more..to do better..

wanting his privacy 《》 oversharing in many an interview about what he thinks and how he feels at that moment (and having several indiscreet girlfriends and relatives sharing bits of his private bubble on social media)

not being a teamplayer 《》 wanting to work in a team (otherwise he'd have quit Rammstein a long time ago)

..and i think these contradictions also echo in his relationships with his bandmates..

Till

imo Richard simultanously looks out for and looks up to Till, getting him with the band as a singer, seeing his potential, and also very much wanting Till's input and opinion on his work, playing it for him before he shares it with the other 4. There have been many years where in every random Richard interview you can find, he gushes about Till in some way or other.

But also: Till imo is not a fan of the drama and Richard not necessarily understands and/or agrees with Till's work (imo Till's 'love of pain' is not Richard's cup of tea) and while he very much likes for Till to pursue his own music too (like Richard does), he would also like to just hang out with him more, just the two of them..

Flake

In a way seemingly two polar opposites; two people you'd never expect in one band together (not even in one musical genre), imagewise: Richard the 'slick diva/rockstar', Flake the 'mock-grumpy local pubdweller/storyteller', you can't get more down to earth than Flake (or you'd be underground), while 'down to earth' is probably the one thing you'd never associate with Richard.

In reality though, and certainly in more recent years, they do appreciate eachother, Flake saying nice things about Richard in his podcast (that he's such a prolific creator, touching on one of the things that are actually important to Richard), Richard (and his family) actually listening to Flake's podcast (no not just that one 😊) and imo liking the fact that with Flake you always know what you can expect.

Olli

I have a feeling that Olli's quiet confidence works very well with Richard, it balances things out, steadies him a bit, and though Olli likes his privacy a lot as well (but different from Richard actually manages to achieve that) and we know very little about their actual relationship, when they interact it always seems 'real' and never forced or played-for-the-fans.

But Olli is not a pushover, and will speak his mind if he doesn't agree with Richard, and if Richard gets too muddled in his own importance, imo he'd just ignore him until Richard tones things down again.

Schneider

Schneider filled in many roles in the band-to-Richard dealings: joining in wanting to do new stuff, putting Richard in his place when he takes it too far, mediator between the others (and sometimes plain 'parenting' if needed), being one of the most adamant in putting the blame in the Mutter-era-drama, goofing around as one of the boys...

But also.. they do see eachother privately on occassion (maybe Richard sees the others too, but from Richard/Schneider there's actually evidence of it 😉). They do yoga together before a show (and have for some years), and on stage they clearly have the drummer-guitarist relationship that you have in a rockband and which (imo) with the rest of the strings-section keeps Rammstein to still be a rockband (aside from the show, the theater, the performance).

Paul

(as you might already have guessed from some other posts on this blog, for me the most inspiring of the inter-Rammstein-relationships 🍀)

Often a difficult relationship, explosive, aggravating, in a way it wasn't always obvious they would manage to remain bandmates for over 25 years, I'm sure both have on occassion wondered if it was still worth it. Paul's skill in spotting a weak spot in another person probably often triggered Richard's fighting spirit and the feeling to defend his work. And just like in his wrestlingmatches, Richard was never one to sit back and let a fight develop, calculating his next move, but quickly chose the attack; often resulting in leaving his defense open for his opponent to counterattack... thus creating a weak spot, for Paul to dig in to, and so it continued..

At the very beginning though Richard mentioned Paul as (paraphrasing) 'he completes me', their work in the early days (before and at the start of Rammstein) was very much an addition to the other's, and they have the same hunger for new stuff, creating something and performing.. and after many years of quarrelling learned (with some therapy i think) to listen to eachother again and even have new found appreciation. And while on stage i'm sure Paul often thinks Richard is too serious, and Richard is annoyed when Paul misses cues when he goofs around too much, imo Richard loosening up a bit is actually under the influence of Paul's interactions.

That, and that they are both the more natural huggers of the band, which the others i'm sure don't mind, they take out on eachother rather than on them 🤗

[theworldofotps]

Silent Stranger (Part 1)

Pairing: Dexter Lumis x Reader Word Count: 2,377 Description: New to NXT, Y/n makes some new friends who warn her to stay away from one of their coworkers. Misunderstood and silent Dexter can’t help but admire the new woman at work.

Part 2

Part 3

Dedicated to the sweet anon who said they would like to read some Dexter fics in the future. And I had been planning to but never had an idea, my sweet friend Rachael gave me this idea which I love. Anon I really hope you like this, and thank you so much @new-zealand-chic for all your help. Xx

Warning: Povs switch between first and third person throughout the fic. They are separated by ~~~ so hopefully you don’t get confused. ____________ Tag list:

@hungmanhorsecarriage @writtingrose @sjwrites22 @sassymox @the-beastslayers-queen @thewrestlingwarehouse @new-zealand-chic @mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk @xladyxfatex @biforrollynch @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @demonqueen29 @itsicantbelievethis666  @lilred91 @xbreezymeadowsx @rebellious-desires @youcantreignonmyparade @melblacc @undiscovereddisneyroyalty

If you wanna be added to the list lemme know. _____________

“Glad you could finally join us Y/n we’ve heard some amazing things from the PC about you, I truly hope you enjoy working here with us at NXT.”

“Thank you so much Hunter I really appreciate it, I’m sure I’ll love it.”

I smile shaking his hand, standing I pull my bag over my shoulder following behind him as he leads the way from his office.

“I’ve already gone ahead and asked Shotzi to show you around just until you learn the ropes and know where everything this. She was thrilled to be the welcome committee, any questions you have just go ahead and ask her.”

“Thank you that takes away some of the nervousness I had.”

Following Hunter, down a few halls, we come to the back area where a few superstars were sat at tables doing their own thing or eating.

“Hey Shotzi come here for a moment please.”

I watch as an energetic woman comes over quickly her green hair standing out brightly, at least I wouldn’t lose or mistake her for someone else.

“What’s up boss?”

“This is Y/n, she’s the new superstar I was talking to you about the other day.”

“Of course the one I’m showing the ropes to, it’s so nice to meet you I hope that you enjoy working with us here.”

“Thank you, it’s nice to met you too I really appreciate you helping me.”

“You’re welcome, it’s no trouble at all I know how hard it can be when you first get here and who better to befriend on your first day than me?”

Shotzi laughs and lets out a little howl then hooks her arm with mine quickly leading me away from Hunter who chuckles waving. Walking around Shotzi points out a bunch of different areas and even introduces me to a few of the other wrestlers sitting or walking around. 

“What do you think so far?”

“It’s great better than I ever dreamed it could be I’m honestly so excited that this is going to be my life.”

Smiling as we sit at a table with some bottles of water and a bag of chips to share I look around watching everyone.

“Is this everyone?”

“No way, there are some in other parts of the building working out and some didn’t come in today. But you’ll see most of them on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays.”

“Okay got it.”

I say eating a few of my chips as nervous as I was to be finally here I was more excited and hoped to befriend some of my coworkers.

“Once you’ve finished eating we can head over to one of the practice gyms and do some work to practice for whatever match you end up having first for your debut.”

“Sounds good to me I’m more than ready to get started.”

Shotzi smiles at me patting my back as we make small talk finishing our snack then heading off to find a ring to work out in. ~~~~~~~ Dexter walks quietly down the hallway he had just finished a match and gotten a shower. Since he wasn't needed for anything else tonight he was going home. Adjusting his duffel bag on his shoulder, he gets halfway through the center before feeling a smaller body crash into his from behind. Thinking it was someone doing an unexpected promo he quickly turns around stopping when he sees the new woman that joined NXT a few weeks ago. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to run into you. I'm trying to hide from my friend and wasn’t watching where I was going.”

She says and gives him an apologetic smile, Dexter offers his hand helping the woman up off the floor looking her over to be sure she wasn’t hurt then gives an incline of his head. She was trying to keep her balance as she adjusted her shoe. Hearing someone call her name he turns and leaves continuing on his way to the parking lot. Not noticing the woman left standing behind, staring after him. Getting into his car he starts it pulling out of the lot and driving back home.

That was the first time he had seen her face to face, the last few weeks she was at Full Sail he had taken a genuine interest in her. He had learned a little about her having overheard conversations with their coworkers while he was eating lunch. He honestly was kind of hoping to run into her sooner or later and found himself wanting to befriend the woman. He just wasn't sure how to go about it, maybe it was just best for him to be silent and wait. It was what he did best and he really didn't want to let people know he was curious about her.  

The drive from Full Sail to his house was filled with a little music playing on the radio. Other than that his mind was just wondering, he couldn't help but smile when he moved and the faint scent of your perfume hit his nose. You hadn't even touched him for that long. Parking in the garage once home he goes inside. Dexter was more than ready to sleep; he just needed to brush his teeth and change into pajamas. Stepping into his bedroom Dexter begins stripping crawling into bed once he is changed and settled. He was excited to go back to work to see you. 

~~~~~~~~~ Looking up from my book I smile seeing Finn walk into my room carrying a small vase full of flowers. 

"Y/n delivery." 

"Hey Finn, wow those are beautiful where did they come from?"

"I don't know I was coming to see if you wanted to grab lunch with Shotzi and I. They were sitting on the floor outside your door and there is a card that says. 'Hope you enjoy these flowers, they pale in comparison to you.'"

“Awe that’s so sweet.”

Standing I took the flowers, smelling them then reading the card, it was typed out so I wasn’t able to find out from handwriting who sent them. 

“I wonder why they didn’t sign their name.”

“Well if you ask me I think you have an admirer.”

“Oh come on Finn I haven’t even been here that long how could someone admire me?”

Setting the flowers on my small table I read over the card once more as he sighs dramatically and sits down next to me.”

“Because you’re an awesome person who just seems to draw people in even when you don’t mean to. I know you don’t feel like you’re good at making friends but people just can’t help but want to be around you.”

“If you hadn’t trained me at the PC would you have felt that way when I came here?”

“Probably then again I don’t know, being the champ makes me busy so it’s a probability but I’m sure we would have become friends quickly anyway.”

“Awe that’s sweet of you.”

Pinching his cheek lightly I laugh as he swats my hand away standing back up and stretching. 

“You wanna go get some lunch?”

“Yes I’m hungry.”

Standing I grab my phone pocketing it and following Finn from the room shutting the door behind me, placing my arm through his grinning.

”Lead the way Prinxey.”

~~~~~~~~

Dexter watches from the shadows as Finn picked the flowers up that he had left for y/n, he really hoped that you liked them. Waiting until you left he walked over with a small gift box full of a few things for a self care day. Opening the door a crack he slides the gift in, he didn’t want to invade your privacy by going all the way in. And he was thankful you hadn’t remembered to lock the door before you left. Closing your door gently Dexter quickly leaves just to keep anyone from spotting him. Going back to his room he sits down to start on a drawing he was doing for you.

For the next month Dexter left you small gifts, drawings and notes just something to make you smile. Nobody could tell you who it was doing this all and he couldn’t believe his luck that you hadn’t found out it was him yet. You two still had no communication apart from the night you ran into him. He was good at staying hidden and to be honest he was nervous about how you’d react. It wasn’t any secret that a lot of people thought he was weird and even a bit scary. But the few people he had managed to befriend they all stayed out of each other's intimate relationships. And he wasn't sure if he wanted to go changing that now. ~~~~~~

"I can't for the life of me figure out who's been sending these gifts."

"Have you gotten any new ones lately?" 

Looking across the table at Johnny whose wife I was currently feuding with, I nod my head. Reaching into my bag I pull out the most recent picture. Handing it to him I watch as he looks it over then shows it to the guy beside him. 

"I can almost guarantee you that it's Lumis, he's the only person around here I've seen that draws like this."

Johnny says and hands the picture back with a chuckle.

"Which one is he?" 

I ask as if I didn't already know, I had been paying attention to Lumis since that night I ran into him. There was just something about his presence that made me want to know more about him. 

"He's that really tall guy kind of blonde colored hair, mustache and muscles he wears those leather gloves when he wrestles." 

Johnny says and then points towards the door over my shoulder. 

"That one right there, aye Dexter! Are you the one sending these weird pictures to Y/n?"

"Like you'd actually stand a chance?"

The guy sitting with Johnny laughs loudly, frowning I watch as Dexter stops in his tracks staring at our table. He quickly turned away leaving the catering area.

"Why would you do that?"

"Oh come on y/n don't worry or waste your time on Lumis he's a freak that's why he stays to himself."

Johnny listens to his friend before turning his attention back towards me.

"You'd do your best to stay away from him y/n honestly."

"I think that should be my choice to make and right now I'm going after him. I suggest you two find something else to do then be awful to someone who just doesn't wanna talk to people."

Grabbing my things I quickly leave the catering area looking down the hallways. I had no idea where Dexter had gone or even what room he stayed in. Pulling my phone out I text Finn.

Y/n🎶⭐: Do you know where Dexter's room is?

Hitting send I begin walking around if Finn couldn't help me I may have to find a staff member who could.

Finn😈👑: It's one hall down from mine left turn

Finn😈👑: Why?

Y/n🎶⭐: Cause Johnny thinks he's the one that's been sending me the pictures and gifts and they called him out on it and I think they made him feel bad

Y/n🎶⭐: So I wanna talk to him

Finn😈👑: Dexter doesn't really talk to anyone here except for the few people that he's friends with

Y/n🎶⭐: It's worth a shot

Finn😈👑: Just be careful and if you need anything let me know

Y/n🎶⭐: I know thanks Finn

Pocketing my phone I make my way down the hallways heading for Finn's room. Once past it I go down turning left. I look at the doors, not all the superstars had their own changing rooms but Dexter's was one of the only few back here. Taking a deep breath I knock on the door then step back to wait and see if he opened the door.

"Hi Dexter."

I wave after he opens the door.

"Can I come in please?"

Dexter steps out of the way after a moment of hesitation, stepping inside I walk a little farther in his room and look around. He motions to the couch, smiling at him I sit down fiddling with my fingers in my lap.

"We haven't formally met apart from me running into you, I'm Y/n. I wanted to come and apologize for how Johnny and whatever his friend's name treated you. I didn't think showing him the picture would cause that, I was just hoping he could help me figure who sent it."

Pulling out the picture I place it on the small coffee table between us.

"Did you do this? Are you the one who's been giving me the flowers, little gifts and drawings."

Watching Dexter rub a hand against his neck then nods his head, smiling at his gaze darting around the room I place it back in my bag.

"I want to thank you for everything. It was really sweet of you. You don't have to be embarrassed about it either if you were, I'm actually quite flattered."

I explained looking around the room, he hadn't said anything yet and I wasn't sure what else to really say.

"I know you don't really say much but maybe would you like to exchange numbers? I think we could be really good friends, and it would be easier for you."

Dexter nods and grabs his phone, swapping we put our names in and I hand it back.

"Well I guess that I better go, I have a practice match coming up and I don't wanna miss out. Thank you again."

Standing I walk to the door Dexter holding it open for me, stepping out I turn giving his hand a light squeeze then quickly making my way back towards my room. I felt really good about how it went and I hoped we could be friends. Stopping at my door when my phone goes off I pull it out smiling.

D. Lumis👁️👁️: Would you like to go get coffee or something sometime? Maybe Wednesday morning?

Y/n💮: I would love to😊

[tessisawriter]

Invisible String, Part 1 (Colton Parayko)

Request: Can you write an imagine where the reader is John Krasinski’s [niece] but she’s dating Colton Parayko and like she has to breaks the news and John acts mad or something and scares them but then he says he’s joking and he’s fine with it? Thanks

***NOTE***: I changed some details in the last scene b/c I moved the timeline up from October 7 to September 14.

A/N: I’m back! The protagonist is an OC but I decided to call her Y/N instead of giving her an actual name b/c John Krasinski has nieces and/or nephews irl. I already planned the entire plot but idk whether the series will be 2 or 3 parts—I’ll post an update when I know more. This series takes place from March 2018 to June 2019 and is loosely based on Taylor Swift’s “Invisible String.” Here is the playlist.

Warnings: Six swear words, rough breakup, alcohol, loneliness & homesickness

Word Count: 3.4k

March 21, 2018

You were impervious to the mix of pitying and derisive glances from passersby as you sat on the curb. You knew you looked like a cliché, crying in front of a restaurant because your boyfriend broke up with you on your 22nd birthday, but you didn’t care. One question gnawed at you: how had six words upended your seemingly perfect day and relationship?

Your brain was buzzing with activity, wondering if Max had given you any clues that something was amiss. This morning, you woke up in his Cambridge apartment to him singing “Happy Birthday” while kneeling at the side of the bed. As soon as Max finished singing, he kissed you before grabbing his backpack and hurrying out of the room. That didn’t mean anything, though: Max was one of the only seniors to have the misfortune of taking all morning classes because his major was Theater, Dance, and Media. He was also (as usual) running late.

The rest of the day unfolded like any other Wednesday as you followed your schedule of lounging in bed, studying for an hour, going to the sandwich shop across the street for lunch, and heading to campus at 1PM for your classes. Afterwards, you went back to the apartment to find Max waiting there, already dressed for dinner. You quickly showered, curled your long (Y/HC) hair, and changed into a dark green dress and black booties before taking his hand and going to an Italian restaurant in Boston’s North End.

There were no warning signs at dinner, either. In fact, everything was perfect until you were waiting for the check and Max said with a detached look in his eyes, “I think we should break up.”

You didn’t want to relive what happened next, but the images of you acting like Elle Woods when Warner broke up with her in Legally Blonde popped into your head unbidden. You closed your eyes in humiliation and shame as you remembered Max, the man you dated for three years, abandoning you at the table and fleeing the restaurant. The other customers stared at you, some sympathetic, others scandalized, and the rest in pure shock.

You snapped out of the flashback when you felt a large hand rest on your shoulder. You whipped your head around to find a young man with blonde hair and black rimmed glasses squatting next to you on the curb.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

The panic faded as you took in the man’s features. He was definitely in his 20s, probably a few years older than you, and his blue eyes were filled with concern. Something about that concern, though, made you snap.

“Do I look like I’m okay? I mean, come on, look at me!” you demanded while pointing at your face, which you (correctly) assumed had giant black streaks of mascara on it.

You fully expected the man to walk away and leave you be, but he sat down on the curb instead and said, “My bad, that was a stupid question. I’ve got some tissues if you want them?”

That made your attitude soften. He was only trying to help, so you nodded and he handed you a pack of tissues from his pocket. You smiled at him, took the tissues, and wiped your eyes and face. As soon as you were satisfied that they were clean, you broke the silence. “Thank you…?”

“Colton, and it’s no problem. What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” You held out your hand for him to shake, which he did. After a pause, you asked: “Why did you stop? Surely you have somewhere better to be tonight.”

He chuckled, and the sound of it made your heart flutter. “I was just heading back to my hotel when I saw you, and I figured I’d stop and make sure you get home safe. That is, assuming you live here?”

“Yeah, I live in Cambridge.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you realized they were no longer true, so you amended your statement. “Well, I lived in Cambridge until about 15 minutes ago when my now ex-boyfriend dumped me. On my fucking birthday.”

“Shit, that sucks. I’m really sorry.” He paused before adding, “I’m assuming he isn’t here.”

“Nope. He hightailed it out of the restaurant as soon as he got his credit card back.”

Colton shook his head. “What a jackass.”

“I know, right? I wasted three whole years with someone who not only broke up with me in a very public setting on my birthday, but also couldn’t be bothered to ask where I would go! He probably assumed I’d go to my parents’ house, but still.”

“Your parents live here?” Colton asked as he fished his phone out of his pocket and unlocked it.

“Yeah, right by Boston Common, why?”

“I’ll get an Uber and drop you off before going back to the hotel.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to do that,” you protested while going through your bag for your phone. “We just met! I’ll pay.”

“Nonsense. You’ve been through a lot tonight. Let me take care of it.”

You stared into Colton’s eyes and realized he wasn’t going to back down. It took everything in you to suppress your pride, thank him, and provide the address. Colton typed it into his phone, waited for a moment, and said, “The closest one is around the block.”

“That’s good.” Your burst of energy dissipated as quickly as it came, and you fell silent. From the corner of your eye, you saw Colton open his mouth as if to say something before the headlights of a car momentarily blinded you.

“That’s the Uber.” Colton stood up and offered his hand, and you took it. You couldn’t help but notice how well they fit together as he pulled you up and off the curb, but after regaining your balance, something else grabbed your attention: his height.

“Gee, how tall are you? No one’s ever made me feel like a dwarf before,” you joked as he led you to the car, your hands still intertwined.

He chuckled and opened the door for you. You let go of his hand and slid into the car. After Colton slid in next to you and shut the door, he replied, “I’m 6’6” and no one’s ever made me feel like I’m not a giant before. You’re what, 5’10”?”

“6 feet, actually,” you corrected him. “So, where are you from, Colton?”

“St. Albert; it’s just outside Edmonton in Canada, but I’ve been in the States for a while. I went to the University of Alaska in Fairbanks before moving to, uh, St. Louis.”

You noticed Colton’s hesitancy and the fact that he lowered his voice when saying “St. Louis,” and you were about to ask why when you thought better of it. You were protective of your privacy, too, especially whenever people commented about how funny it was that you shared the same last name as John Krasinski. It wasn’t a coincidence—he was your uncle, and the two of you were extremely close—but you went along with it and never corrected them because it wasn’t their business. So, you let it go. “And what brings you to Boston?”

“Work,” he said before changing the subject. “What do you do? Are you still in school or—”

“I’m a senior at Harvard,” you cut him off. You generally didn’t drop the “H-bomb,” as you and your friends called it, with people you didn’t know well, but this was a special case. Colton just confirmed he was hiding something, and after looking at him in better lighting, his face seemed familiar, which weirded you out. You had to get back on equal footing, and the H-bomb almost always unsettled people.

“Wow, you must be really smart,” Colton said, seeming impressed but unphased. You couldn’t help yourself from raising an eyebrow as he asked, “What’s your major?”

“Government. What was yours?”

“Business administration.”

“Ah.” You fell silent again, this time on purpose, as you racked your brain for where you might have crossed paths with Colton. He wasn’t from Boston, not even close, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d seen him before, and recently.

Colton didn’t let you ruminate for long before reviving the conversation. “What do you want to do when you graduate?”

“I’ll be a lawyer one day, but I have to be a paralegal first. I’m looking for jobs right now.”

Before Colton could reply, the car came to a stop. You looked out the window and saw your parents’ townhouse and your childhood home.Your time in the car had flown by, a sensation you rarely, if ever, experienced. And there was something between you and Colton, a connection you couldn’t quite describe, that made you want to spend more time with him. But your time was up. “This is me. It was nice to meet you, Colton, and thanks again for the ride—I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no problem,” he replied. “I’m glad I found you.”

You were overwhelmed by an intense desire to ask for his number. If only he lived in Boston or somewhere in the Northeast. But he lived in St. Louis, so you moved to open the door, only to feel Colton’s hand wrap around yours and hear him say: “Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You turned around and locked eyes with him. It was like being in a trance, and your heartbeat thundered in your ears.

It felt like years, but it was more like a few moments before Colton let go of your hand. “Good luck with the search. I’m sure you’ll find a good job.”

You wanted to let out a sigh of disappointment, but you just said, “Thanks,” and smiled at him before getting out of the car.

***************

The smell of bacon finally lured you out of your bed at noon the next day.

It had been a rough night. The reality of the breakup hit you like a ton of bricks when you rang the doorbell and all but collapsed in your mom’s arms when she answered the door. She brought you over to the couch, where your dad was waiting anxiously. As soon as you sat down, you grabbed your mom and cried for an hour straight as she held you and stroked your hair. You knew Max wasn’t worth your tears, but it had more to do with you. Despite his major, he wasn’t that good of an actor, and yet, he fooled you into thinking he could be your person. You took immense pride in your instincts, but they failed you with Max. How could you have possibly fallen in love with such a heartless person? More terrifying, would you have ended up marrying him a few years down the road if he hadn’t broken up with you?

You didn’t know the answer to either question, so you stopped crying and began venting about how the breakup went down. Your dad almost hit the ceiling after hearing that Max left you at the restaurant, and you had to talk him out of driving to Cambridge to “give that little shit a piece of my mind!” That wasn’t to say you weren’t thinking about revenge, but your dad potentially getting arrested was not helpful. After that, you started crying again, only this time out of frustration, and didn’t stop until you practically passed out on the couch. The last thing you remembered was your parents guiding you up the stairs to your bed.

Thankfully, you had no classes on Thursdays, so you were able to sleep in and be, if nothing else, well-rested. Your stomach rumbled when you smelled the bacon, so you got out of bed and made your way down the stairs to the kitchen, where your parents were sitting at the table and watching the television.

“Ugh, why are you watching the news?” you said as a way of greeting while making a beeline for the bacon.

“Good morning to you, too, sweetheart,” your dad replied. “I’m waiting for the sports report. I missed the game last night and Uncle John wouldn’t tell me the score. He said he’s sorry about, I quote, ‘the scumbag’ and he’ll call you tonight.”

“God, I miss him. And you,” you addressed your mom as you shoveled a load of bacon onto your plate, “are the best.”

“See, honey? I knew bacon would cheer her up,” she said to your dad.

“I didn’t doubt it. Y/N, we have to figure out a time to get your stuff from that piece of shit’s apartment. I’m not letting you go by yourself, but do you want to let him know ahead of time or just show up?”

“Who did the B’s play?” you sat down at the table and changed the subject immediately. You didn’t care about sports, but your dad and Uncle John were major Bruins fans and the mere mention of Max gave you a headache.

“The Blues.”

“Where do they play again?” you asked as you ate your bacon. It had to be a team from the Western Conference, but the only teams you knew there were the Canucks and Blackhawks because they were on your dad’s shit list.

“St. Louis.”

You almost choked on your food. “What?”

“St. Louis, sweetie. You know, the Gateway Arch—”

“Yeah, I know, Mom,” you recovered. “That’s the team Jenna likes, right, Dad?”

“Yes. Shh, here it is!” He didn’t need to tell you twice; you doubted Colton was a professional hockey player, but your curiosity won out as you intently watched the television.

The score flashed on the screen—an OT loss for the Bruins—and your dad groaned. “Ugh, I’ve got to turn this garbage off.”

And suddenly, a few Blues players, including one that looked awfully similar to Colton (albeit without glasses), flashed onto the screen. You didn’t get a good enough look at him to be sure, though, because your dad changed the channel. You let out a noise of frustration.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” your mom asked, and your dad looked like he had the same question when he turned away from the television.

“I’ll text the scumbag and tell him I’m coming this afternoon, if that’s okay with you, Dad,” you said. “I want to get it over with and besides, I need my laptop and textbooks.”

“That’s perfect, sweetheart. The office doesn’t need me today, anyway.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back; my phone’s upstairs,” you called out behind you as you raced back up the stairs. You did not want to text Max, but it was better than telling your dad that the man he praised for making sure you got home last night was potentially part of the team responsible for his beloved Bruins’ loss.

You locked your bedroom door and grabbed your phone to pull up Google and the St. Louis Blues roster. Part of you thought there was no way a professional hockey player actually cared enough to bring you home, but the Blues being in town and one of its members resembling Colton were too many coincidences for your liking. You tapped your foot impatiently as the phone loaded the roster, and you scrolled through the list until you found a name of interest.

“C. Parayko, 55, R, 6’6’’…”

It cut off after that, so you scrolled sideways to see the other information. It left you without a shadow of doubt, but you clicked on the name anyway to view a picture. Colton’s headshot and full first name stared back at you as if they were looking into your soul.

It really was him. You had to have seen him on the little television at the sandwich shop’s register yesterday.

But what did this information mean for you, really, besides discovering his identity? It was nice to know his full name because it confirmed that he was a real person instead of a delusion your reeling mind made up, but it didn’t change one important fact: you lived in Boston and he lived in St. Louis. Barring a radical change in one of your lives, which you didn’t see happening, that was the reality of the situation. It was time to stop dreaming and confront your immediate future.

You pulled up Max’s number and began composing the text which, after several drafts, read: “I’ll be at the apartment today from 3 to 5. My dad’s coming with me, so make yourself scarce. I want my shit back.”

***************

6 months later: September 14, 2018

You were miserable only two weeks after relocating to St. Louis.

It was funny how one phone call could completely change someone’s life. In your case, said phone call involved an extremely attractive job offer with a clear path for advancement within one year. The offers you had received from legal firms in Boston, New York, D.C., and Philadelphia were underwhelming, to say the least, and you were only a week away from graduation. You had already endured a lot of change this year, so why not one more?

After nearly giving your parents a heart attack but ultimately receiving their blessing, you accepted the offer and moved to St. Louis on September 1st. Uncle John had been especially supportive, enlisting Jenna (known by the rest of the world as Pam from The Office) to fly out from L.A. and show you around the city last week. She made sure you knew the ins and outs of the city, which you really appreciated. You also loved your job. You were doing important work every day, and your boss was already hinting at giving you the promotion you wanted. 

So, why were you unhappy? It was your social life, or rather, lack of one. You didn’t know anyone in St. Louis, and while your coworkers weren’t mean, they didn’t make you feel welcome, either.

That seemed to have changed earlier today when two of your desk neighbors who were around your age, Harper and Ellie, invited you out for drinks after work. You couldn’t have been happier. You went home after work, did your hair and makeup, put on your favorite royal blue mini dress, and met them at the dive bar you recommended. You were so excited on the way over that you could barely sit still; maybe you’d make friends with these girls and finally feel like you fit in in this city.

Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Harper and Ellie abandoned you within less than five minutes after two guys came over and asked them to dance. You were now sitting at the bar alone, nursing a cocktail and despairing over your situation.

It was times like these when you thought about Colton. It had been six months since you’d met him in Boston, and you didn’t want to risk looking like a lunatic by slipping into his DMs on Instagram, but you were getting desperate. It was bad enough that being from the Northeast made you stick out like a sore thumb, but the loneliness was eating you alive, and the combination made you feel unmoored. Maybe a familiar and friendly face could change that.

As if God had answered your prayers, you heard a commotion near the entrance. You swiveled your stool in that direction and saw a group of tall, good-looking men in their 20s entering the bar. The tallest one had blonde hair and black rimmed glasses.

It was Colton.

Your brain screamed at you to look away and approach him after he settled in, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he laughed at something one of his friends said. It was as if he felt your stare because he suddenly looked in your direction and appeared to gasp.

It was only then that you turned away and faced the bar, drinking the rest of your cocktail in a few gulps. You were so embarrassed; he probably thought you were a stalker or something. You were about to flag down the bartender for another drink when you felt that familiar large hand rest on your shoulder.

You turned your head and found Colton staring at you, his blue eyes full of incredulity and…happiness?

“Y/N. It’s really you,” he breathed.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Resol’nare - Part Four

A/N: Making jokes in tense situations is my coping mechanism and it is also Navina’s. And neither of us are funny under pressure. We sure do try though. 

*this story will regularly be using words in Mando’a. for a good list of references click here.*

Summary: With Navina and Firo off to hit an abandoned Imperial base on Nevarro in hopes of scoring a hot new ride that won’t litter bolts all over the galaxy like the Flare will, and Mando responding to Cara’s holo about a beskar sighting, the stage is set for an introduction to remember... and hopefully not a bloody one. 

Warnings: talk of death, violence, weapons, language 

Word Count: 4.8k

Nevarro. 

“You sure about this, Nav?” Firo peered through a pair of binocs, turning a dial on the side to zoom in. He had them pointed at the fenced off facility that they had cased out shortly after landing on the volcanic planet. Abandoned by the Empire twice now, the base, carved into the side of a cliff out past the lava flats, had still not been addressed by the New Republic. Although it was clear from their cursory recon that the place had taken some recent damage, it appeared as though it still housed plenty of small ships and speeders. 

The plan had originally been to fly in on the Flare, Firo’s current ship, and set down on the landing pad. They’d discussed it first in the caves on Yavin, Firo sharing the location of the base and what limited information he had heard from a fellow smuggler over a game of Sabacc. Rumored to have no security detail, not even droids, they had figured that it would be an easy job. Load up the Flare and another small ship with a few speeders that they could sell on the black market, then split up, Firo in his ship and Navina in the one previously owned by the Empire. The goal was to be in and out and off of the planet so quickly that even if there were cameras or sensors on the base, they’d be long gone before anyone could turn up to stop them. And that had seemed completely feasible. Until now. 

Plans have never really been my thing anyway. “I’m sure.” Besides, this might actually work out to my benefit...

Pulling the lenses away from his eyes, he turned to face her. “Even though the Marshal is-” 

“Since when has a Marshal ever stopped us, Firo?” She shot him her cockiest smirk, casually crossing her ankles as she leaned her palm against the Flare’s hull. “Since when has-” Her friend gritted his teeth and tried to stop her, but it was too late. The panel she’d chosen to press her weight into gave under pressure, the metal creaking as it dented inwards sending Navina off balance. “Woah!” Firo sucked air through his teeth as he reached out to help her catch herself, but she brushed him off with a huff that he knew she had to work hard not to allow to turn into a laugh. “Alright, on an unrelated note, you need to have that looked at.” She pointed at the flimsy piece that upon closer inspection she realized had been poorly soldered on in an attempt to reinforce a previous repair. Shaking her head, she looked up at the ship and then back at Firo. “I can’t believe I got on this thing and flew here with you.” 

“Hey!” He tried to keep a straight face too, but a snicker threatened to turn into a full blown snort if he didn’t let it out. “Alright, yeah, she needs some work.” That’s the understatement of the century. “Still beats taking a commuter shuttle though, Harsa,” he teased, knowing that she had had to put up with a series of shuttle transfers to get to Yavin from Coruscant, and that it was her least favorite way to travel the galaxy. 

“Not if she falls apart the second you make the jump to hyperspace,” she teased back. He couldn’t come up with anything quickly enough, so she steered the conversation back to the task at hand. “But as I was saying, we’ve always been able to get around the Marshals we’ve come across. We’ll just have to... “ She shrugged. “Improvise.” With that, she turned and headed around the back of the ship to climb the ramp. Taking a large step up as the ramp no longer opened all the way, she sighed. This ship is a kriffing disaster. 

“Improvise?” Firo followed her around and hoisted himself up onto the ramp as she started rifling through her bag to gather what she would need. He crossed his arms and tilted his head, watching as she pulled two comm links from an inner compartment. 

Navina blew into one of them, then tapped the receiving end to make sure it was still in working order. “Yeah,” she said, tossing it to him with a grin. He snatched it out of the air and tucked it into the front pocket of his pants. “Improvise.” She checked the second comm link, giving it a shake for good measure before hiding it away under her shawl. 

Firo waited for her to look back up at him to respond. “We are pretty good at that.” 

“Good? Who’s better?” She asked with a wink, turning back to her bag to dig out her armor. “Remember that time on Onderon?” She pulled out a purple painted shoulder pauldron, untwisting the leather straps that were used to keep it in place. “When we-”  

“Nav?” He cut her off then, walking completely through the doorway to stand in front of her, and she knew instantly that he was concerned. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and set the second pauldron on top of the first one, the durasteel clinking softly. With a sigh, he went on, green-gold eyes narrowing briefly and his lips turning down into a slight frown. “I know there’s... something you’re not telling me.” 

She stiffened, a sudden wave of guilt making her wince. He’s right. There was a lot she hadn’t told him, and while she had reasoned that the less he knew about some of her plans the safer he’d be, she also knew better than to think that he wouldn’t be able to tell when she was being withholding. He knows me better than anyone, of course he knows that I’m… that something’s… “Firo, I-” 

“Look,” he placed a hand on her shoulder, gently turning her the rest of the way so that he could look straight at her as he spoke. “I didn’t want to say anything on Yavin, because I know that,” his forehead furrowed and he swallowed as he dropped his arm back to his side. “I know... what time of the year it is. I know that,” he shook his head and dropped his chin. “I know you were hoping that…dank farrik.” 

He knew that she was hoping that this would be the year that she would be reunited with her father and the little one. Navina’s mother was gone, that was a fact, but the rest of her family was a mystery. He knew that she only allowed herself those three days to hope that they were still alive, because the last time that they had seen each other they had agreed on a designated time each year that they would return to Yavin 4, the last place they had called home, if it were safe for them to do so. She and her mother had missed the first few years, the need to stay hidden keeping them from being able to make the trip. At that time her parents were still able to at least transmit the occasional holo, and while she wanted nothing more than to be able to see her father and the child that she affectionately called verd’ika, she understood, even then, that their hiding was necessary. This is the Way. She could remember thinking it even then, could hear her own small voice repeating the words back to her mother, the two of them tucking their hopes away for another year.

Twenty three years later, she was still packing and unpacking that hope, the thing riddled with creases and worn thin along the folds. She knew that the odds weren’t good that her family was still alive, or if they were, that they hadn’t been captured or separated. Regardless, every year she gave herself three days to air that hope, to go home and wait for them to join her there. But this year was no different from the last one. They’re- she squeezed her eyes shut against the word. No. She wouldn’t even think the word until she had confirmation. 

Ni partayli, gar darasuum. I remember you, so you are eternal. As the phrase played in her head, she reached under the cowl of her shawl for the pendant around her neck, squeezing it until she could feel the tusks digging into her palm and then running her finger around the rim of one carved eye, nail scratching against the hard, faceted stone that had been set inside. I remember. 

And she had been remembering so much lately, the flashes from the night they had fled Concordia coming much more clearly than ever before. It made no sense to her that she would suddenly be able to recall clips of dialogue or images of faces with increasing ease as more time passed, but for the last few months that had been the case. And then when Firo had found her father’s kal, it had been too simple to give in to the time-worn hope, too tempting to see it as a sign. But it had obviously been there the whole time, she told herself, despite the fact that it wasn’t obvious at all. 

She hadn’t told Firo about the increased power or frequency with which the amethyst tinted memories were coming to her, but that wasn’t all she was keeping from him, and it was the second omission that she truly felt guilty about. He was extremely gracious in granting her whatever level of secrecy or privacy she wanted or needed when it came to her family and the closure that she longed for there. While he knew she didn’t truly consider herself to be a Mandalorian as she’d never sworn the Creed or been fitted for her own armor, he understood that she still held fast to the traditions and beliefs that she was raised on; that her clan - her aliit, one of the few Mando’a words that Firo had picked up through the years, and one that Navina thought was appropriate for him, always looking at him as a brother of sorts - was bonded together indelibly, and that she’d never turn her back on that bond.  

The guilt she felt was in no way related to her family or Yavin or her memories. It was in regards to what she’d heard in the lower levels of Coruscant, the city under the city at the center of the galaxy. A rumor, but one she’d been chasing for a long time, had caught her attention, and she couldn’t let it go until she’d seen it through, and it was for that reason that she was insistent upon going through with their plan to hit the abandoned base. Yes, she needed a ship. Firo could do with a new one, too, honestly. But she also needed to know if what she’d heard was true- that the Darksaber had changed hands once more… but that it had once more eluded both of the women who sought it most fiercely, herself, so that she could destroy it, and Bo-Katan of House Kryze, the radical who at one point plotted to overthrow her own sister for the Mandalorian throne. And if it is true, if it’s no longer in Imperial hands… I need to know who has it now. 

While she didn’t know the exact location of it, Navina knew that there had been, until recently, a Mandalorian covert here on Nevarro. She had no idea how large their numbers were, only that there had been a very violent standoff with the Imperial remnant who’s base she and Firo were about to loot. But the most interesting part of the rumors that she had collected in her travels from the Core Worlds to the Outer Rim, was that the New Republic’s Marshal stationed there had been linked to a Mandalorian- to the Mandalorian that the Imps had been targeting. So when she saw the woman with the badge pinned to her belt and the heavy blaster rifle she carried with absolute confidence, it had the exact opposite effect that that sort of deterrent would have on anyone else. I need to know. She sighed, binging one hand up to her forehead and pushing it back over her scalp. She grabbed the base of her long, thick braid and followed it down to the end, pulling it as she looked back up at her friend. But he needs to know, too.  

“Firo, it’s…” 

“It’s about that damn saber, isn’t it?” He raised one eyebrow in a high arch, and her stunned silence paired with the stupefied expression she knew she was wearing answered for her. “Yeah,” he nodded. “I know. You get…” he squinted at her, “you act differently when you have a lead on something about your family or that kriffing sword.” 

“Firo,” she reached for his arms, her hands cuffing around his biceps to emphasize how important this was to her. “That kriffing sword is what-” 

Bending his elbows, he grabbed her hands and pulled them down, not angrily but forcefully, holding her wrists as he spoke. “I know. I know what you… how you feel about it and about what it stands for and… and the part it played in…” He clamped his eyes shut then, but before he did she noticed how prominent the golden flecks in them were. He’s nervous. Of the two of them, Firo was absolutely more likely to worry when it came to her safety. She flinched, knowing that she had given him plenty of reasons to throughout the span of their friendship. The scrapes that he typically got himself into were almost always easy enough to weasel him out of with a little careful negotiation or a generous bribe. The spots she found herself in however, usually resulted in drawn blasters and blades. He let out a breath and released his grip on her wrists. “Nav, I just need to know you’re not gonna get yourself killed.” 

She clicked her tongue, trying to lighten the mood. “Come on, Firo, I’m a hard woman to kill. I have the-” 

“The scars to prove it,” he finished the second part of her sentence in unison with her, rolling his eyes. “I know. I’m trying to be serious here, Harsa.” 

“I know.” She said it quietly, blinking up at him as his hard frown softened. “I’m sorry, Firo, I should have told you what I was…” she shook her head, the end of her braid bouncing behind her. “I should have told you that I knew about…” she groaned, leaning forward until her forehead met his chest. 

To her surprise she felt it rumble as he chuckled. Huh? He’s… laughing? She picked her head up, a confused look on her face. “Apologizing is really rough for you, isn’t it?” 

With that she let out a laugh of her own. “Only with you though, isn’t that strange?” She winked at him, swatting at his stomach. 

“Very strange indeed,” he agreed, intercepting her swat and pushing her hand away. “Alright. So we’re improvising. What have you got so far?” 

Her grin climbed her cheeks then, and she laid out her new plot. “Not going to get myself killed, Firo. Just captured.” 

Less than an hour later they were prepped and ready to put their backup plan into action. Navina removed her gray shawl,  strapping her purple chestplate and pauldrons to the black flak vest she wore over her short sleeved black top. Next she wrapped her wrists in padded black fabric and slid the vambraces over them. The left one was utterly useless in terms of weaponry; it appeared as though at one point it was equipped with whistling birds, but the mechanism had been damaged by the previous owner and now its only use was protection. But it’s beskar, so it’s worth wearing. The right one still had a functioning flamethrower, though it was low on fuel, and a grappling line, though it had snared the last time she tried to deploy it so she made a mental note not to count on it cooperating this time either. Holstering her blaster on her thigh, she took her father’s beskar kal from her bag, attaching the sheath she had made for it on the trip to Nevarro to her belt. The last piece of armor she donned was her mother’s helmet, the traditional “T” shaped visor smashed along the eyeline, but the modulator and audio features still in working order. 

“Well look at you, Nav, you look like a real live Mando if I ever saw one.” You haven’t, bantha brain. “I like the,” he grasped his right wrist with his left hand, a quizzical look coming over his face as he tried to search for the right word. “Those things.” 

Firo had armed himself as well, a pair of blasters on his hips, a small knife in his boot, and a handful of different blaster cartridges on his bandolier that he could switch out for different effects if necessary. Navina felt a knot twist in her stomach though as she remarked not for the first time that he wore no armor at all, nothing to protect him but his speed if triggers were pulled down there. We’ve got to change that if this is the type of thing we’re going to be doing.

“Alright,” she let out a breath and locked her eyes with his through her broken visor. “Last chance to back out. This is my thing, you don’t have to be involved if you-” 

“Would you knock it off already?” He tapped the side of her helmet softly, the action causing her to snort as she recalled the first time he’d bopped her on the head while she was wearing the beskar helmet, and how he had nearly broken his hand. “You ready?” She nodded. I am. “Okay. Let’s go get you captured I guess.” Grumbling under his breath about how he had a feeling that he was going to regret this, he walked down the ramp, hopping off the edge where it dangled a foot or two from the ground. She followed on his heels, smiling to herself. 

Since they were changing the plan, they were no longer flying the Flare down to the base’s landing pad, as only one of them- Firo-  would be flying out. Instead they left the dilapidated ship where it was and headed for the entrance furthest from where the Marshal and the man she had with her were stationed. Navina would hold them off, distracting them while Firo made his way up to the landing pad to make off with a ship, and then hopefully, after she found out what she needed to know and got herself out of whatever lockup situation the New Republic’s Marshals instituted on Nevarro, she’d rendezvous with him here where the Flare was waiting, and they would head for some place where they could lay low for a week or two. They had their comm links in case they needed to contact one another after they separated. But Navina had a good feeling about how this was going to go. She kept that to herself though, sure that Firo would have some snarky comment about how her good feelings were almost always bad portents.

As they neared the edge of the cliff face that had been providing them cover, Navina reached out and stopped Firo in his tracks. “Promise me you’ll bail if I tell you to.”

“Uh oh,” he joked. “You have a good feeling, don’t you?” 

“Firo,” she groaned. “I mean it. Promise me if I tell you to leave you will. I-” 

“I promise, Nav.” He acquiesced then, giving the tail of her braid a slight tug where it stuck out from the bottom of her helmet. “Now, let’s go.” 

She nodded, and with that, they split, both heading off in different directions- Firo towards the secondary entrance that they’d found on their initial recon mission a few days back, and Navina straight towards the waiting Marshal. She glanced back over her shoulder as she reached the last of the small boulders she was darting between for cover, and seeing Firo’s boots disappear through the door, she took a deep breath and ran. 

“What’s the town to do with the law this far out on the flats?” Navina projected her voice over the empty space as she rounded the corner, making for where she knew the two temporary sentinels were waiting. 

But the second she got close, a third figure stepped into view, one that halted her in her tracks. Dank. Farrik. She raised her hands, palms facing outwards, as the sharp end of a long beskad stopped just shy of her helmet. Holding it was the most imposing Mandalorian she had ever laid eyes on. The man wasn’t much taller than she was, but the stance he took, the way that he held his body and his weapon would have been enough for her to know that he was a formidable fighter. On top of that, he was covered head to toe in beskar armor more pure and pristine than she knew to exist. The sword in his gloved hand was just the first that she noticed of what she now realized were many weapons- a blaster, spear, and vibroblade all visible, plus whatever devices he had installed on his vambraces. And that’s just what I can see. A Mandalorian like this one was liable to have at least four more weapons concealed. A Mando like this is a weapon.  

The Marshal and the the older man that had been waiting with her- as bait, Navina realized too late- stepped up behind the Mandalorian, the woman speaking. “You got this from here, Mando? I’m gonna go check out what her friend is up to inside.” Navina scowled at the woman who gave her a condescending look before the man answered. 

“Sure. I can take care of her. Take Karga with you.” He hadn’t turned away from Navina, and he hadn’t lowered his weapon. His voice, though modulated through his helmet, sounded calm and even, and she knew that while it likely offered some of his prey a false sense of comfort, she knew better. The Marshal and the other man didn’t hesitate to do as he said, the woman telling him to call for her if she needed him. He won’t, Navina fumed at her retreating figure. 

Neither of them said anything until the other two were out of sight, and all Navina could do was hope that Firo was running through the base at top speed. He just needs to get off of the pad, get out of here and then he’s- 

“Are you a Mandalorian?” He asked the question as he slid the end of his blade up onto the curve of the armor on her left shoulder, the beskar sword scraping a long divot into the top layer of painted durasteel with a sharp shing. 

She let her eyes flick down to where the blade sat without moving her head, hands still in front of her. Stall. Give Firo more time to get out. The blade had only cut through the outer shell of her pauldron, but he had barely used any force at all and she knew she had to answer carefully because one wrong word or uncalculated move would cost her more than the time needed to repair her armor. He’ll chop my arm clean off with that thing. “That depends on who you ask,” she raised her eyes back up to where his would be if she could see them, noticing a sculpted signet in the shape of a mudhorn on his own shoulder piece. 

“I’m asking you,” he answered, tone shedding some of its evenness as with the quick turn of his wrist the blade slipped between her pauldron and flak vest, slicing it off in one fluid motion. “And I want an answer. Are you a Mandalorian? Did you swear the Creed?” 

Loud bangs coming from the landing pad above them told her that Firo was almost home free. Just a few more seconds. “I was never given the chance to. My clan was attacked when I was a child.” Honesty seemed the best course of action at this point. Though she was a skilled fighter, Navina knew when she was outmatched and outgunned. 

“Your armor,” he nodded his head in her direction then, the first move he’d made that hadn’t been to slice her pauldron to pieces. “How did you come by it if it wasn’t made for you?” 

“Took the pauldrons and chest piece from a trooper,” she stated, though she knew that was the least of his cares. “These?” she raised her wrists up higher, “these I stole from a back ally trader. You want ‘em? They’re yours.” He nodded again, and she mirrored the gesture, glancing up to the pad as the rumbling sound of thrusters preparing to take off told her that Firo was going to make it out safely. Good. That’s all that… all that matters. She slowly pulled the vambraces from her wrists, tossing them at the Mandalorian’s feet. “They’re busted and they don’t fit, so by all means.” 

“Your helmet.” He demanded. 

“Now that I will not be parting with,” she told him, trying to muster up all of the evenness that she could. 

“It looks like pure beskar.” It wasn’t a question. 

“It is. It’s the only piece of pure beskar I own, aside from,” she pointed to her belt with one hand, the other still suspended in the air between them. He nodded his approval for her to pull the kal from the sheath. “Aside from this.” Holding the dagger out for him to see, she brought it slowly up to his beskad and clanged them together, the sound ringing out and making it clear to both of them that both blades were entirely pure. “And I won’t be giving you either of them, Mando.” Sheathing her kal again, she brought that same hand up to her chest, digging under the flimsy armor and pulling out her mother’s mythosaur necklace. “They belonged to my parents, and if you want them you’re going to have to kill me.” 

At the sight of the pendant he lowered his weapon and cocked his head to the side. “The Mythosaur… but what is, why is there…” 

Navina looked down at the pendant in her hand then, the stone visible in its eyes seeming to glow a fierce shade of purple. She sucked in a breath as she brought her other hand up to cover it, thinking that it was just the harsh Nevarro sun that was causing it to shine more brightly than it ever had before. But when shaded by her other palm the purple light seemed only to shine brighter. “It’s never… it’s never done that before, never so…” 

Just then a comm link clicked in the Mandalorian’s pocket, and he pulled it out, pressing the button on the side. “Cara,” he spoke the woman’s name. 

“The other one got away with a ship and a few speeders. You good down there?” 

Navina felt a fleeting relief as she heard that Firo was off the base and that he’d even managed to make it profitable for himself. The Mandalorian stared at her for long seconds before answering, holding the communicator in his fist close to his helmet. “I’m taking this one back with me.” With that, he switched off the communicator and put it back in his pocket, unhooking a set of binders from his hip. “I can put these on you and you can follow me,” he offered, “Or,” he looked down at the blaster on his hip. “I can set that to stun and-” 

Navina shoved her wrists in his direction. “Clap ‘em on then,” she sighed and he did, securing them so smoothly she was sure he’d done it hundreds of times at least. “Where uh… where are we going?” 

Sheathing his sword on his belt, he looked straight at her and answered. “No questions.” He bent down and picked up the discarded vambraces, then started walking in the opposite direction. When she didn’t follow right away, he reached for his blaster. “I’m not sure when the last time I used the stun setting was,” he said, hand poised over his weapon. “Not sure if it still works.” Looking back over his shoulder at her, he finished the threat. “Don’t make me test it on you.” 

“This is the Way,” she responded reluctantly. 

With that he started walking again, Navina following closely behind in silence. 

Nope. Plans are not my thing.   

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Thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the tags! :)

tags: @something-tofightfor​​​​ @alraedesigns​​​​ @pheedraws​​​​ @valkblue​​​​ @malionnes​​​​ @gollyderek​

[reeesea]

Something Sweet: Part Three

~sweet beginnings~

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

pairing: minsung, jisung/minho

warning: mild language 

words: 2.5k ish

summary: sweet beginnings and small apartments, also Seungmin baby shows up 

a/n: Im honestly just proud of myself for posting a third chapter woo!! lemme know if you read and enjoyed <3

also the spacing got wack trying to do the text convos, so hope the bold and non bold isn't too gross to look at. Minho and Jisung

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Minho wakes up to the sun streaming in through the thinly veiled curtains over his window. Thankfully he woke up to a minimal headache in spite of having gone out to the bar and an impromptu concert the night before. Rolling over in his small twin sized bed he reached for his phone to check the time and any potentially important notifications. 

9:26 am 

[ 2 new messages from Rich Boy Han Jisung ]

Minho finds himself smiling at the new messages from the boy that had stumbled upon him last night. 

2:25 am

Youre right I do hear it all the time

but it sounds pretty sweet coming from you ;} 

I'll tell J.One you thought he was amazing

9:28 am

Careful Han, your cockiness is showing

Jisungs’s cocky demeanor does nothing but make him more endearing to the older, but something gave Minho the impression that the boy already knew this. Not expecting a reply from the other this early in the morning, Minho stretched out of bed and made his way out of his small bedroom and quietly to the shared bathroom. Not a small feat in the old apartment shared by him and his roommates. Creaky floorboards, squeaky doors, and over all close proximity to each other makes being quietly courteous in the morning a frequent challenge for the boys. 

The living room at the end of the small hallway was turned into a shared bedroom for Minho's two roommates. Felix’s mattress had gotten a bed frame from some trading website a few months back when he moved in. The makeshift wall of hung shower curtains and a fold out screen gave the boys the illusion of privacy between their respective sides of the room. Even though more times than not, Minho has come home to find the lanky brunette curled up in Felix's bed instead of on his designated couch. 

Climbing over the piles of the boys’ clothes, Minho makes it to the bathroom without disturbing the other two. The two were still passed out from working their night shifts, draped over each other on the freckled boy’s bed. Neither showed signs of awakening any time in the morning hours. Minho showered quickly and changed in order to make his way out of the apartment and on his way to the studio to practice his Saturday away

Minho would have thought that the both of them would have remained in their university dorms for the summer, if they weren’t able to find apartments on their own. But, at some point after he had graduated, he had gained himself plus two of his underclassmen as roommates. He really couldn't complain though, it all made sense as all three of them were a part of the same dance studio, barely a block away, and all had reasons to be saving money. Paying a fraction of rent really helped with all that had to be saved in order to pay for school, studio fees, living, breathing, and most importantly audition fees. 

As the summer had set in, so had the wave of audition opportunities for companies and crews. Felix had mentioned needing to prepare a video audition last week for a few entertainment companies in the area. Hyunjin was busy trying to save up his money to pay for the upcoming semesters at school to graduate like Minho had. 

Entering the practice room and being welcomed by the distinctive scent of a dance studio was enough to bring Minho back to reality. Since graduating, he had been stuck in his thoughts about what to do with his future a lot. His childhood dreams of getting into the prestigious Yellow Wood Dance Academy seemed to slip farther away from him with every passing year. His audition tapes each year during university were almost always sent back, along with a ‘We are sorry to inform you…’

 It’s not like Minho couldn't keep applying, but with every year the rejection stung a little bit more, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to take another blow. No matter how confident Minho acted about his looks, when it came to dancing his ego was glass fragile. His passion for dance sometimes felt like the only thing that kept him standing, but it had been a while since he had felt rewarded for his dedication. Even when his practically broken dream haunted him a little too much, focusing back to his craft really gave him a better grasp on reality. Making his way to the front of the room to plug in his phone to pick music, a new notification popped up. 

[Rich Boy Han Jisung]

10:03am 

dw dw its all fake i assure you, all just a ploy to get you to like me

What you up to on this fineee saturday mornin??

Hmmm wouldnt you like to know 

i only tell boys i like so...

Minho smiled in spite of himself. Even over text the sparkly eyed boy was able to pull out and dust off his genuine smile. It had definitely been a while since Minho had found himself freely smiling, but here comes Han Jisung crash landing into his life, running amuck. After spending a moment debating whether or not just to tell the younger of his activities anyway, he came to the conclusion that mentioning dance would only result in more questions, and Minho really wasn't feeling like spilling his passions and dreams with the other already.

Haha i am only even more motivated now >:D

Dont strain yourself too much with that, 

im just enjoying my saturday before my shift later.

Queuing up some music Minho migrated to the middle of the room to casually freestyle and warm up for the day. Allowing the music to flood his ears, movements to take over his limbs, and only his feet to remind him of where he was, Minho’s mind went blank as he began to relax and give up control of his body to the steady beats of the song.

---

By the time Minho wrapped up his practice and was  heading home the sun was already starting to settle on the lower half of the sky. Surprisingly the day had passed him by quickly. Spending the whole day grinding out a routine he had been recently working to perfect was not usually an overall fun time, but Minho found that he was able to keep his practice productive and enjoyable. 

His smile throughout the day certainly had nothing to do with his breaks to text to Jisung. The casual banter between them felt natural, and the light conversation made him feel lighter on his feet as he moved across the floor. Even with the flirty nature of their introduction, their conversation never steered far from how anyone would expect two close friends to interact. Minho found himself smiling more throughout the day as he checked Jisung’s messages throughout the morning and afternoon. 

12:25 pm

Also for the record my capacity to flirt is honestly quite unimpressive 

I hope you aren’t talking to me for my stage charisma and charm 

To sweep you off you feet, i may be a disappointment

Usually i'm just awkward, cant flirt, doesnt leave the house, Jisung

You almost tripped over your feet walking into the bar last night

Dw im not sure id want you to sweep me off my feet with that balance

You wound me ;--;

 By talking to Jisung, he had somehow managed to satisfy all of Minho’s previous curiosities while sparking new ones. Even with Minho generally avoiding giving away his own personal interests and dreams, Jisung didn't hold those same reservations and filled their conversation with “fun facts” and lively stories. Jisung’s lively play by play of the bickering taking place between his group mates, now officially introduced as Chan and Changbin, had Minho giggling on the floor of the practice room. The way Jisung described everything brought it to life in ways that he hadn’t expected from a casual text conversation. The boy was definitely a great storyteller even just over type, and Minho found himself wondering if he would get to hear his endless stories in person.

---

[Rich Boy Han Jisung]

3:36 pm

Youre one interesting man Lee Minho

Han, you know almost nothing about me

On the contrary I feel like I know a good amount

Youre name is Lee Minho

You work at the fancy restaurant Menu 98

You used to work at the bar we were at last night

You have a really beautiful smile

…

Are you quite done

Definitely not but if i start going off about how stunning your eyes are 

you might block me

Which would be a shame please dont

What happened to awkward Jisung who cant flirt huh?

Minho returned to the small apartment to find Felix attempting to cook some ramen in the microscopic kitchen and Hyunjin sprawled across the couch watching some variety show. Felix was probably fueling up in order to spend the night gaming the weekend away before his work overtook his weekdays again. Hyunjin barely looked to be conscious but still managed to wave a greeting to Minho as he walked into the room. 

“How’d practice go?” 

“Pretty well. Finally was able to clean up that middle section I’ve been messing up.” Minho hurried into the other room to shower once again before heading to the restaurant for his evening shift. 

“Oh glad to hear it.” Felix’s voice filtered in from his place by the stove that was shoved in a corner of the room, along with a fridge and a sink that barely classified it as a kitchen unit. None of the three were complaining, the stove heated up their ramen water and the fridge kept their milk cold, what more could they ask for?

“WAIT, did you talk to that guy at the bar last night???” Hyunjin’s loud voice carried from the couch through their thin walls allowing Minho to clearly hear even if his bedroom door was closed. 

“Which one, Jinnie?? You gotta be more clear than that.” Minho had actually stacked up a few numbers from his night and received atleast ten free drinks from other patrons. Not too bad for the first night out, but of course the only phone number he had bothered messaging happened to be the one he had been texting all day.

“You know the one, the rapper one you left to go see perform.” Minho of course knew, but he wasn't gonna admit it to his roommate so easily, and just hummed in response eliciting a groan from the younger. 

“If you haven’t, you so should. 3racha is all everyone from the bar is talking about. Their concert must have been a big deal or something.” 

“WHAT, 3RACHA? You have got to be fucking kidding me.” Felix, apparently a fan, shuffles in with his ramen in hand to accompany the loud outburst.

“Hyung! One of them gave you their number?? They’re literally like the next big thing in the music scene. Which one of them was it?”  

J.One, Han Jisung, the cute pink hoodie guy

“His name is Jisung I’m pretty sure.” Minho was very sure. “I didnt know they were such a big deal” 

“J.One gave you his number? Damn hyung, you don't even know. They’ve been performing locally for years but their fan base has grown a ton in the last year. There’s rumors that they've signed with a company and are going to come out with something soon.” Felix continued spouting off information on the group to them, as Minho continued his routine of preparing for work at Menu 98. 

---

[Rich Boy Han Jisung]

4:35 pm

Looks like my roommate is a fan of you guys

We’re not talking the tall beautiful bartender from last night right

No that was Hyunjin, Felix is the fan

beautiful?

Ah atleast ill be on the good side of one of ur roomies

Yeah tall boy was pretty, but something about him made me think he didnt like me

I think it was his face, and his height

Most tall pretty boys dont take too well to a squirrel boy being in their territory ya know. 

Whats not to like about a cute squirrel boy

Im sure he likes you and youre over thinking

If his two roommates like you, he’ll have to like you by association

:o 

Did Lee Minho just admit to liking me 

Wow the development, less than 24 hours 

We love to see it

Your ridiculous

I said nothing of the sort

Sure sure hyung

Gtg now, dinner shifts starting

Have fun at work!!!!

(wait can i call you hyung???)

Minho left him on read as he walked into the restaurant, already bustling with waiters and the changing of shifts for the dinner crowd. ‘Less than 24 hours’ and Minho was already admitting indirectly that he liked the boy he had only just properly met the night before. Stranger things have happened he supposed. Minho continued to surprise himself with this one though. He was not one to seek out friendships or relationships. Anything more than the very occasional one night stand, was practically void from Minho’s social life. Other than the people he had met through dance and his roommates, there were very few others that Minho had chosen to form any kind of relationship with. Even his co-workers were mostly just faces and names he had to remember in order to do his job well. 

Well, expect Seungmin.

“You look awfully happy today, who spiked your coffee this morning?” Seungmin had been a newly inserted character in Minho’s life but they became fast friends after a few too many late night shifts without proper caffeination. 

Seungmin had been a newly hired host at Menu 98, just the average polite university student with enough experience to get hired. When Minho met him they exchanged the basic pleasantries and thought that would be the end of that, until one fated closing shift. A certain, tipsy, entitled, rich, high class asshole of a customer had held up Minho’s section for much of the night. Minho found himself being bossed around and verbally berated throughout the night, trying to serve the women who appeared to never be satisfied with the food or service Minho was offering. By the end of the night, she was their last customer and Minho saw her to the front to pay. His customer service smile, strained and barely holding up, and the woman’s complaints, even while paying, had him wanting to drop all his pleasantries and curse her out as she waltzed out the door.

    “What an absolute fucking pain in the ass of a woman”

Minho hadn’t thought he had said his thoughts aloud, but looked up to catch Seungmin, who had let the words come out in hushed tones as he held a sickening polite smile on his face. After that point the two had bonded over various pain in the ass customers and a mutual love for sarcastic backhanded insults. Minho's relationship with Seungmin was probably the closest thing to a friendship that the older had experienced in a while. 

“No spiked coffee, sadly” 

“Well something’s making your usual sad bitch face smile, so it's gotta be good. Hmm...Meet someone?” Seungmin’s signature puppy eyes were on full display, but not without the signature  mischievous glint they always held. 

“Well wouldn't you like to know Seungmo~ but me and my usually flawlessly beautiful face got to go charm our way into some extra tips.” Minho gave the boy a gentle pat on his head, that was met with a stubborn pout forming at the younger’s lips.

“You definitely met someone, you usually don't have this much self-confidence so early into the evening.” Minho did nothing but giggle at his comment and made his way to the back room to begin his shift. 

------

one ~ two ~ three ~ four ~ five ~ six ~ seven ~ eight ~ nine

[alchemist-shizun]

5 times Logan saved the day + 1 in which ... well that could’ve gone worse!

General taglist: @whizzie72 @sapphire-knight @burningpersonflapsuitcase @softanxiouspatton @royallyanxious

Word Count: 2,716

Characters: Logan, Roman, Deceit, Virgil, Remus and Patton

Pairing(s): Logicality

Warning(s): Misgendering, crying, implied aphobia

Summary: People could say Logan was excellent at saving people in extremis. When it came to him in particular, though … what could he say. He gay panicked.

A/N: Am I not just great at summaries? I had yet to do one of this type of fics so here goes nothing. I also took the opportunity to expand the lgbtq+ rep I have in my writings, hope you don't mind! Idea originated from this post, then @pistachio-lan inspired me so yeah thank you bud you're cool. Pardon me if some scenes are too short and other much longer I can't control my creative flow anymore-- I hope you all enjoy!

1- In which Logan saves Roman's day

Entering class with the widest smile any human muscle could ever bear, Roman practically bounced towards his seat.

A group of students immediately surrounded him, few were the times where one expressed such profound happiness first thing in the morning.

Logan eyed him from his desk right next to Roman's.

People started gathering and asking what was up with him, pushing the boy, who couldn't stop smiling, to confess the reason of such joy.

« I just had the most wonderful time last night. »

Multiple voices overlapped at that, with classmates asking for details, clarifications … who it was.

Only that, Roman had forgotten for a moment that literally none of them knew the only person he could have had a date with was a boy.

That was Logan's cue to act.

« You guys are aware we had to do a quick research for today, right? »

A chaos of “what?” and similar shocked expressions ensued, driving the attention away from Roman.

« The teacher said he was going to ask what we found out about the most recent discovery on Mars. »

« Oh, you've got to be kidding me. » that one kid that, for some reason, was always ahead of the program, hit their head against the backpack they had laid on the surface of the desk. « I literally spent the whole afternoon yesterday looking stuff up and I left it all at home! »

The situation could only worsen, people frantically ran around the room with some friends, competing at who found information first.

The hint of an amused smile crossed Logan's lips.

« You just made that up. » he heard Roman go, who had noticed his behavior.

« Isn't it lovely to watch the whole class go wild with dismay? »

Roman snorted and absorbed their classmates' despair. « You're a mean one, Lo. » he kept looking ahead of himself. « But thank you. »

Neither of their smiles faltered.

2. In which Logan rescues Deceit from a probably very uncomfortable explanation.

Nights out with friends often meant the weirdest stuff was about to happen. The one time they had started to jokingly call one of their group “Deceit” was definitely one of their top moments.

But, especially, the most delirious ones happened when they threw ridiculous YouTube videos or vines in the lot.

« Look at this. » Logan and Deceit leaned on the table towards their two friends. It was an extract from a song Bo Burnham had released years prior.

And, well, when certain comments come to you naturally … there's no way to stop yourself before the deed is done.

« Oh, that's me. » Deceit had said. Or, actually, Deceit had said right upon hearing the lyric “half-boy”.

Promptly forgetting for a single instant his other two friends had no clue of him being a demi-boy.

Not even the hint of a single trait of confusion could paint their friends' faces when Logan intervened.

« I've actually seen one of his shows in person in the past. »

« Oh my goodness, you have? » wide eyes stared at him with deep interest.

As the three engaged a conversation on the comedy skills of the man, Deceit was able to steady his heartbeat and take some deep breaths to release the anxiety that had taken over his chest.

He caught Logan's eyes when the waiter had arrived with their orders; he raised a hand and pressed his fingers to his chin, then moved them slightly outward in Logan's direction.

Thank you.

Logan gave a small nod and, just like that, everything went back to the regular outing.

3- In which Logan is Virgil's coolest cousin.

To say Virgil despised having guests over for the night was an understatement. He was obliged to tidy up his generally messy but comfortable room when all he ever wanted was to sleep for eternity as soon as he touched his pillow.

And, of course, there was always something out of place that his little cousin pointed out. Not that he had allowed her to follow him when he had excused himself upstairs.

He heard Logan's voice echo « Miranda! » around the steps.

The door to Virgil's room opened and Miranda was already jumping on his bed.

« Viv! Your bed sheets are so fluffy! »

Virgil forced himself to smile. “She doesn't know.” he repeated in his mind. “It's just a nickname.”

« Miranda, didn't you hear your parents telling you to stay down? » Logan's reprimanding tone made the kid giggle.

« Maybe. » the two older cousins shared a playful eye roll.

« Come on. » Logan held his hand out towards her.

« But I want to stay in her room to see what she does! »

She doesn't know.

« Have you ever heard of privacy? »

« Nope. » Miranda laughed.

Then she noticed something and her eyes grew with curiosity.

« What's that? »

Virgil's eys followed her gaze and fell upon his binder. Of course, out of all things, she had to notice that.

He went to open his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. What could he make up this time? Whatever he told her, she would have wanted to try it on at all costs.

Were he to say the truth, though ... she'd have probably gone to their relatives talking about how he had a weird piece of clothing and that could only end badly.

« Oh, that must be part of your future cosplay? »

Virgil snapped his head back up only to be met with Logan's quick wink.

Keep it up.

« Oh, yeah. I have to sew some things on. »

Miranda gasped in amazement and clapped her hands together. « Can I try it? »

Damn.

« I'm afraid you should have your cousin's exact size. If not, that particular material would be damaged in the ending result. » did he keep lying only to protect him?

The kid whined but dropped the disappointment right away. « What's the name of the character? »

« Virgil. »

« Who is he? »

« Well, just ... » Virgil narrowed his eyes, looking for the best explanation. « Just a boy. »

« Why him? » Miranda was in that brilliant age where everything needed to be questioned.

Logan checked with a side glance to see if his cousin needed assistance. Instead, he found him smiling to himself.

« It makes me happy. »

The little girl seemed pleased enough with that answer. « Then can I cosplay with you one day? Carnival is near! »

« Of course, I can make whichever costume you prefer. »

She squealed in joy and threw her arms around him, squeezing him tightly.

Then, she started running off towards the stairs. And she said it.

« Thank you, Virgil! » giggling was heard, but, apart from that, complete nothingness.

Until Virgil dropped on the edge of the bed with his hands covering his face, a slight tremble could be seen shaking his body.

Logan was immediately by his side, offering one of his rare hugs that Virgil gladly accepted.

It felt so nice. Achieving a goal prematurely but ultimately feeling the satisfaction melt away with the knowledge that he was never going to experience that ever again.

What an utopic illusion.

« It's fine. You're okay. » Logan tried, as his cousin's body shook with every sob he failed to repress.

« I'm sorry. »

« Don't be. »

Virgil let go of him as he started wiping his cheeks clear of fresh tears of fear and frustration.

When he looked at the other again, there was a hint of a smile dancing on his lips. « You're the best cousin. »

Logan returned it. « Always glad to be of help. »

4- In which Logan prevents Remus from carving his eyes out out of annoyance.

The blissful rest lunch-break gave after hours of mostly a quiet balance between interest and boredom was the most important reward as noon approached.

That wasn't exactly the case all the time.

Logan and Remus were sitting with two of their classmates who just so happened to have lab afterwards with both of them.

It wasn't like the they were particularly irritating people, on the contrary they radiated a calm energy most of the times.

That one day, though. It seemed something had happened in one of their lives and they needed all the time in the world to get every single detail out. They involved every one of them in the conversation and everything would have been fine if they had stopped at simply asking opinions on the matter.

« C'mon Remus, how about you? »

« What? »

« You never talk about this stuff. » one of the two leaned forward. « Spill the beans. There has to be someone you like. »

Remus smiled falsely. Oh, he was so done. They had gone the last fifteen minutes trying to get out of him information that he didn't have.

« Of course! You if you stuffed your mouth with trash bags and finally stopped talking. »

« Aw, stop being weird and evading the question. »

Logan eyed the one who had just spoken.

« I am not, I just don't care. »  Also, since I'm aromantic, I'd really appreciate if you stopped before I prohibit your breathing.

« Everybody gets crushes! »

And I'm about to crush your face.

Remus's hands started fidgeting out of stress under the table, which Logan noticed.

He was about to snap.

« I do. »

The two lab partners' eyes widened and focused on Logan all at once.

« You what now? »

Remus's face was painted with a confused expression: he knew his friend would never open up about himself to acquaintances, let alone about his feelings.

It was what happened after that made him understand.

The other two completely concentrated their attention on Logan, started asking questions about the boy he had been referring to, trying to guess who his crush was almost as if it was a game or anything of their business.

It … did feel kind of sad.

As Remus was able to catch his glance for a sole moment, he wore the “you didn't have to do that” expression.

All he saw was Logan shrugging in a “it doesn't matter” way and carrying on with subjecting himself to the pain of their classmates.

He made a mental note to remind him how grateful he was for that funky little nerd's existence.

5- In which Logan is the Patton protector.

Having friends living nearby school sometimes meant hang out invitations. Also, it often times meant free food which was everything that was good in the whole planet.

Logan had internally beamed as Patton had come back to the living room asking him to stay for dinner, while he had pretended not to hear a faint “Would you like to stay forever?” coming from his little sister.

He had tried not to agree right on the spot, but it was difficult to hesitate when being asked to spend even more time than intended with one of his favorite people.

That was how the two of them were now sitting with Patton's lovable family, discussing unimportant things and just all around enjoying their time.

Logan loved being around them, it was a delightful break from the coldness in his own home, he could get along with all the components just fine.

There was a television behind Patton's parents; they hadn't been exactly listening to the news, but it seemed a broadcast about the recent Pride parade in town was being held.

« Oh look! » Patton pointed to the screen with a toothy smile as a pan flag flashed across the TV.

He froze while his parents' expression grew perplexed the more they paid attention to the news.

« You really need to get rid of this habit you have of getting excited when you see dogs. » Logan started, adjusting his glasses as Patton and his parents turned to him.

« Why? » Patton's confused tone was half-real.

« You almost startled me simply because there was a dog on television. »

That was when he understood. « It was an adorable husky, Logan! »

Laughter started to fill the room and the previous disorientation was soon forgotten.

As his guest stood up to get more food, Patton heard a whisper being stealthily delivered to his ear.

« Be careful. »

He couldn't help but smile to himself. Logan was always on the lookout for others and it was a quality that almost came natural to him.

And he needed to thank him for that properly.

6- In which Logan forgets to stop himself.

An echo of “thank you”s rained down on Logan yet again as he and Patton stepped out on the garden of Patton's home.

This time, though, there was none to prevent him from potentially ruining his relationship with his interlocutor. And, ultimately, even everyone else around him.

As his cousin was used to believe the worst outcomes to happen, it did actually affect him at times. But, in that moment, he had gone completely blank and forgot to steady his impulse control.

« I'd do anything for you. » was what aimed fire.

He had meant to only think that.

Yet, he didn't find heartbreak and misery.

Instead, he watched as Patton's expression softened even more. Patton got a few steps closer, so that only Logan could hear his murmur.

« I feel the same. »

Logan's eyebrows arched slightly. Happiness quickly gave way to a clenching feeling in his chest.

« No, wait. » he responded, looking down and then back up. « I don't think that's a good idea. »

Patton's eyes narrowed for a moment. « For me to like you? » that was absurd and maybe his tone was a bit hurt.

Why would he say something like that?

« Lo, you're a wonderful person, and- »

« No- I mean, it's not that. » Logan gesticulated, trying to find the best explanation without actually telling anything.

« Logan, you know whatever you'll tell me, all the good things I think of you won't change. »

The boy took a deep breath, some of the weight relieved already.

« I am asexual. » he looked away immediately. « And I know plenty of people despise that and say it's not real, so if you don't- »

« I think that's wonderful. » when Logan met Patton's gaze, he found one of those smiles Patton only dedicated to him. « And I don't see why I shouldn't like that about you, too. »

A smile slipped on Logan's face, the dreadful feeling leaving space for relief. « Now you're just making it too difficult with your unconditional love. »

Patton let out a quiet snicker. « Well then, » his tone grew bolder. « We could talk this over dinner sometimes soon if you'd like? » he had clapped his hands together, looking up at Logan with a twinkle of hope in his eyes.

« That was too sly for me to refuse. »

« As if you weren't happy I just asked you out! »

All Logan could do was, of course, groan at how flustered that line made him. « I'll concede that to you. »

As the time to part drew nearer, Patton took two steps back, thoughtful.

« Are you okay with hugs right now? »

Despite having told his friends years prior of how he had never fancied physical touch that much, he was always grateful whenever they posed that question.

« I am. »

« Alright. » Patton stepped closer again and wrapped his arms around Logan's neck, who returned the hug rather quickly as he heard a quiet “thank you” being whispered to his ear.

Then, the shorter boy stepped away, but kept his hands on Logan's shoulders.

« You're my hero. »

With that, Patton was gone.

And Logan was left astonished in the middle of a summer's night.

[crystalk17]

Understanding Along With Secrets/ Mouse Of a Time

Thomas and Virgil talk about the events that transpired. Virgil practices to control his shifting powers. He also stumbles into a place that was a bit too tempting for him leading to some more mischeif and another secret.

I am open to Prompts and questions for or about the Sides in this story. Please I encourage you to share my post. Gets the story out there.

Master post: Click Here There are two other Chapters! 

Warning: Moments of anxiety, fear, self doubt, falling from a heigh distance.

Thomas and Virgil sat in the hallway together for the longest time, at least they thought so. Neither of them spoke or moved from that spot for what felt like an eternity. In reality it was only about ten minutes. Virgil remained on Thomas’ s shoulder for half of that time, just trying to process the whole scene that just played out between them. Thomas did all he could to make sure he wasn’t staring at his friend while he processed the whole situation. He looked at his hands, he looked up at the ceiling trying to count the lines from cracks or just missed plater. He even started to plan out his next video, until he was brought out of his thoughts by Virgil moving his head from his shoulder. He waited patiently for anything to come from Virgil. A sigh. Anger. Even rambling would have been better than this awkward silence. After looking down at the ground for a time, Thomas decided enough was enough. Virgil had to talk.

“ Sooo you can transform too?” Thomas wanted to hit himself in the head because of the stupid yet obvious question that just emanated from his lips. “ Your and animal too?” how dumb could he be, but it seemed to do the trick. “ In all honesty it only started recently. At the beginning I was human, like the...others. Then one day it just happened.”

Thomas remained sitting down on the ground, but looked over to the dark ego beside him. “ What were you doing?”

“ Well, I was frustrated after talking to Deceit.”

“ Yeah that will do it...but you never answered my question.”

Virgil looked over in confusion, trying to think back to Thomas finding him in his animal form.

“ I asked you why you didn’t tell us.”

In all honesty, he didn’t want to seem stupid in front of his creator. He knew deep down that Thomas would never look down on him, but there was always that fear in the back of his mind. He could only think of replying with a few select and simple words. “ I’m not ready.”

Thomas stood up, using his legs mostly, and the wall to stabilize his body. Once his feet were firmly on the ground he looked behind him, extending a hand. Virgil has always felt the most accepted by Thomas, ( Close behind is Patton), but at this moment all he could do was smile. Thomas found out the one secret he didn’t want anyone to find out because of fear and anxiety ( Big surprise), and when he gave an answer such as “ I’m not ready.” Thomas was still accepting. Thomas understood better than anyone that fear can prevent the obvious and cloud judgment, so he was not going to make it worse by pressuring. He was literally offering a hand to help Virgil along his path and not judge. Virgil grabbed Thomas’ s hand and felt his body being pulled up from his sitting position off the ground. “ Well, if you're not ready, you're not ready. Just no more secrets from me. Alright?”

Virgil looked intently into Thomas’s face to see if there was any ill intent or Deception. But there was none. He genuinely and honestly just wanted to help Virgil out. “ Alright.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The days that followed this event were...complicated...well, more messy, then complicated.

Virgil decided after this day he would have to make sure he was not put in this situation ever again. This was easier, but only in some aspects. Unlike Thomas, the other sides could call upon each other, but they were not forced to appear. For example, if Patton called upon Virgil, Virgil would hear the call in his head as if being played by echo, but it was his choice if he showed up. The problem was, to the other light sides, if you ignored a summon something was either wrong or you were being rude, and in Virgil’s situation it usually meant he was being rude. Then there was the fact of if Thomas called upon him again. He could never ignore Thomas, even if he was an animal.

Thomas promised to lay off on summoning him, but he couldn’t ignore is Anxiety, even if he wanted to. So there was only one solution. He had to work on his transformations.

Virgil brought the problem to Thomas hoping he could help out...to a point. Thomas expressed he hated lying to the other sides just to help Virgil, it made him feel too much like Deceit. Then there was the fact that if Thomas was too uncomfortable, Patton would be able to sense his uncomfortableness and lies. “ No. no. no.” Virgil explained very quickly. “ I don’t want you to lie. I would never want to put you through that. I can sense from here how uncomfortable you are with that. The only thing I want you to do is, if it comes down to it, distract the light sides. While I am practicing my shifting from animal to human you just point them to another direction.” He sighed because he could still sense the uneasiness emanating from Thomas. “ Look, if you have to tell them then go ahead, just give me time. Please.” As soon as he expressed his concern with Thomas and the fact he could pull the plug at any time if it came down to lying to keep his secret, Virgil just felt the anxiety wash over Thomas. The burden was lessened immediately. It was like a spirit exited Thomas and went to Virgil's body.

Thomas looked over at his personal dark side. “ I'll try to help you out as much as I can. Like you I can just feel how stressed and scared you are of telling the others. I don’t want you to have a panic attack just because your scared if I will tell your secret.”

Virgil jumped at Thomas suddenly, giving his body a hug of pure appreciation. Thomas stumbled back from the gesture but embraced his anxious side in a comforting way.

There must have been so much going on because Patton suddenly appeared in the room witnessing the interaction between Virgil and Thomas. His face lit up from seeing such a random interaction, especially since he had no idea why these two were ok with each other now. “ Oh my God. I knew you were able to do this Anxiety!” Patton jumped in on the attention, trying to join in on the heart being shared in the room.

As soon as Patton made contact with Virgil, he released Thomas and proceeded to fix his messed up purple hair. “ Patton. It’s Virgil. I have explained this to you before.”

“ I’m sorry. It’s just this is the first time I have seen you like this Virgil. You usually avoid us and sit alone kiddo.” Patton released Thomas and looked towards Virgil with a smile plastered on his face.

This was the first time he had a good look at Patton. He had that stupid looking cat hoody up, so he had cat ears on his head ( Ironic) and his eyes were gleaming like an Anime character. He was hopping up and down like a child. The emotions between Virgil and Thomas must have spiked Patton’s behavior to act more childish. “ Wait...Did you just call me Kiddo?” Virgil looked at him confused. “ Yah!... Is there a problem with that?” He tilted his head to the side like a dog would do. There it was. The animal attributes were starting to show through. “ No Patton. I’m fine with it.” Virgil knew by the way he was acting he was about to turn into his dog form. He figured if he just plasters a smile on his face and acts kind he would disappear to his mindscape room without problems. Well too late. Right there and then, Patton transformed into a Golden Retriever right in front of Virgil. His instincts kicked in to double time. All he could do was stare at the dog used to be Patton with fear.

Thomas could feel everything. The fear, anxiety, everything. He placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder trying to get his attention. Virgil looked over at his Creator with confusion but looked down at Patton once more. “ It’s still Patton. It’s still Patton. Plus I am a human. Everything is fine.” He carefully and gently placed a hand on the dog’s awaiting head and pat it. Patton stuck his tongue out and was just as surprised by Virgil’s actions. He has never seen Virgil touch any of them. Virgil couldn’t take anymore. He disappeared into his mindscape room for privacy. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Virgil from that day on, when Thomas was busy making videos unless he was needed, would work on his shifting. He figured out a long time ago, the light sides were most occupied when Thomas had a performance coming up or he was creating a video to post to YouTube. During those times Virgil would transform at will to his mouse self and wander around the mindscape and in Thomas’s house. To Virgil, if he got used to his animal form then maybe he could control it better.

The first few times Virgil stuck to wandering around his room. He wanted to make sure he was used to the bodies movements at first. He would practice by climbing up onto his desk then venturing further and further out. He would get from his desk, jump to his bed, then start by practicing his balance on his curtain rods and door frames. If he had to admit, this was an experience he was not used to. The first day he tried jumping from his desk to the bed, the simplest distance, he couldn’ t make his body jump far enough. He would tumble right off the edge. Virgil would back his body up, look around like something was in the room with him, then run. Well more like scurry, right off the edge. He would make a personal joke saying he felt like an airplane. A crashing airplane. The first time he plummeted he was scared to death. He backed his body up a few feet, then ran as fast as he could. Virgil could feel his little feet leave the hard surface and feel only air. He would close his eyes, since he was not prepared to see his own death, but opened them up at the wrong time. Poor Virgil felt his body abruptly stop soaring through the air and turn into a plummet. He had to open his eyes just to make sure he wasn’t tricking himself. He looked down, yelling in his head. If he could, he would cover his face with his hands, but of course you couldn’t really do that with paws while falling through the air. Virgil said a little prayer to himself just waiting for his death. This was it. His first time experimenting and because he was too ignorant to have someone watch him he was going to die. At least Thomas would no longer have anxiety in his life.

Virgil opened his eyes and realized his body collided with the ground...but he was ok. He found out later that day that Mice can fall up to twelve feet, sometimes twenty, and still be unscathed. Thank God for the resilience of mice. From that day on Virgil practiced, but made sure he had some type of surface under his body when he fell from high places.

For weeks Virgil practiced in his room. If one of the light sides started to ask questions, Thomas was nice enough to distract the others with his problems or their animal instincts. He decided while the four were working on the Video for the month he would wander around the Mindscape.

This was a big step for our little mouse. In his room he was safe. All sides knew to never just walk into his room without permission. Out there he could run into any of the other sides, but they were all occupied. Why would it matter? Virgil the mouse approached his door. Since he was still in the mindscape he could easily teleport if needed, and he needed it.

He landed in a hallway that looked exactly like the hallway Thomas found him in, except for one thing. There were four doors present. Each door led to a different Side’s room in the Mindscape. A person could tell who’s room it was by the decoration that was on the outside.

Virgil’s door was pitch dark purple, just like his sweatshirt and hair. All over the door were lightning bolts or storm clouds with lightning. Patton’s door was light blue, but he had hints of bright yellow emanating from the inside one could see through the cracks. There was a cat face drawn on the doorknob. Logan’s was a dark blue. He had a few papers that looked like they were stapled to the wood. If one looked closer the pages had formulas for science and math. Some pages were so full, that the equation had to leave the paper and be written on the door in black marker. Lastly, Roman had a door right beside Logan’s. It was bright red like it was just painted today. On the door was an elaborate painting. It was honestly a bigger version, that took up the whole door, of the patch on Roman’s arm. The outline was in Gold and the picture was of a castle on the water with a banner hanging over it all with the sun gleaming in the middle being the brightest yellow of all the yellow on the picture, and the biggest object on the door. Virgil rolled his eyes the best he could but was still curious. He had honestly never been in Roman’s room. He hasn't been in Logan’s either but figured it might be a typical lab looking bedroom. He was super curious about the Creative side. He was one he never really got close to. He was just too curious and this was a perfect opportunity. Virgil teleported himself into the Creative sides room. Inside honestly looked like a room made to imitate royalty at a hotel. Everything wasn’t exactly right, but the feeling was there.

There were pamphlets that were hanging up from Thomas’s previous performances since he was a kid. There were posters everywhere, basically announcing to the world Roman’s and Thomas’s favorite musicals and Disney movies. Surprisingly, there was a Nightmare Before Christmas blanket hanging up on the wall. “ Great taste.” Virgil thought.

Virgil scurried across the floor to the humongous bed that would contain one human. Virgil grabbed onto the bedsheet the best he could, (Paws) and scurried up to get a better view of his surroundings. There had to be more.

This took him some time since the bed was all tucked in and organized like a military personnel came in and straightened the room. Virgil kicked his back paws to adjust his body up onto the bed. In reality he was out of breath, but all that came out was a few squicks of innocence. The mouse laid his body down on the mattress, curling his tail in on his body and tried to look around, but froze. Behind him he could hear the soft snores of something bigger. A lot bigger than him. He turned his head to only have a cat’s body take up his field of vision. A grey and white cat to bed exact.

“ What is he doing here!? Isn’t he suppose to be helping Thomas?! He’s creativity for crying out loud!” Virgil could only slowly back up to get some distance between himself and the beast that was no longer viewed as his friend. In its sleep the cat stretched it’s legs out and opened it’s mouth to reveal the sharp canine’s present to the world. The last thing Virgil would see if he woke up. The tail was already swishing back and forth alarming the mouse. Virgil stumbled a bit and tried to run, but couldn't take his eyes off the predator. This was it. All this work for nothing.

From all this excitement and emotions running through his mind he didn’t realize one little difference with his body.

The mouse looked down trying to force his feet to move and get running. Wait. Feet. Why were there feet?

Virgil covered his body with his newfound hands. He could feel a head, legs, arms, and no tail.

“ Well this is new.”

[hecohansen31]

Hawthorne Michael is a little fuckboi who already shared the bed of all the warlocks, some teachers, witches... except one, his best friend, his "kitten", who he cuddle and kiss. At a party, when she decide to try to have some fun with a guy to finally lose her virginity and end the mockeries of her sisters, Michael stop the dude and is angry with her. The others are toys, he didn't want her to think she was like them to him, because she is his, body, heart and soul. Seems he need to be clearer

(A/N): Hello lovely!

Again sorry for taking so much time with this ask and I honestly am going to be even more sorry because although my askbox is almost empty it’ll take me a bit of time to finish the last ask, but in the meanwhile please do send requests, I honestly feel like I low key need them because I can’t focus on fics... so...

Also I might be a bit slower with fics and asks in general due to having to go back to university alongside studying for an exam, and trying to get into the next faculty I want to be in, for which I am very excited.

So please excuse my absence, I swear I’ll write more fics to make you forgive me!

Love you, lovelies!

WARNINGS: Sexual Themes, Michael Being A Controlling Fuckboy.

Michael Langdon was a fuckboy.

It was something she had always known since when he had firstly walked into Robinchaux and in her heart.

A new girl or boy would be out of his room each weekend, begging for more and asking to be taken back, but Michael never did.

She prided herself to actually be the only person Michael would be constantly coming back to, his kitten and best friend.

Their friendship was unlikely: she was a witch, shy and innocent, whereas he was a womanizer wizard with a pendant for chaos, but as most said, contrasting forces tended to balance themselves out and this is what had happened between you two.

But what had started as a friendship, had grown for her in a small crush, which she chose to ignore since she was scared of what it might end up meaning for her friendship with Michael.

She knew that if she stepped on the wrong path, she might end up ruining the things behind her and Michael, and although it hurt her not to be able to express her feelings freely, she just couldn’t speak up the truth.

She ended up having to be satisfied with stealing touches, taking advantage of each time Michael would cuddled next to her, coming to her room either in drunken stupor or after he had taken his pleasure from his umpteenth hook up, closing his arm around her, nosing her back and kissing her cheek…

…asking her as a child whether she would be staying with him forever or would abandon him, like everyone else.

She would gently reply that she would never even think about leaving him and that’s when he would move closer around her and call her “his kitten”.

It was her favorite moments spent together, but as soon as Michael left her bed, or she would catch the soft smell of a perfume she knew didn’t belong to her all, her insecurities came crashing down onto her.

She seemed to be the only woman Michael didn’t feel physically attracted to.

At first, she had thought this made her somehow special: he took from other people and never came back, but she was the one person he kept coming back to.

But it didn’t take long till she started feeling used like the other girls.

He would only take also from her, but worst of all, it made her feel extremely insecure about her body.

She had always been teased for her innocence, since she was still a virgin at her age.

Michael hadn’t made much of a problem about it but she had caught pity in his glance and she had started thinking about the fact that he might not be interested in her because of her lack of experience.

Maybe he didn’t like her, her body and her mind, and this broke her heart each time she found herself looking further into the question.

It was truly heartbreaking to see Michael “love” everyone, except her.

That’s why, whenever Michael would be trying his “magic”, she would be found in an angle trying to drink away her sorrows, like that night, when the wizard had suggested a friendly visit to a club he had discovered, recently, and meanwhile he flirted his way through the little jukebox playing in an angle, she was at the bar table, twirling the straw in her drink.

She had been hearing the loud music as if to avoid Michael’s sweet nothings, whispered to the latest of his conquests.

She had once tried to imagine herself as one of them, a little too pretty, her clothes a little too tight and his lips on hers… but it didn’t work, she always found herself waking up from a feverish dream with the nightmare of Michael’s rejecting her because she wasn’t enough.

She was singing along a George Michael’s song when something moved next to her, and she found the sit next to her to be suddenly occupied by a lean figure: a male not older than her was sat down beside her.

His hair was elegantly combed and gelled

He wore more than just a simple shirt, alongside owning a wonderful pair of ocean eyes.

He was definitely attractive, but she couldn’t help but compare him with Michael, her eyes immediately shooting down onto the ground, knowing that men like that weren’t interested into her…

… but maybe… for once… she was wrong.

The boy called the bartender and ordered a whiskey on the rocks and then turned to her, making her blush slightly asking to her if he could offer her a drink.

“Oh…” she was simply capable of utter that word, taking a deep breath and blushing ever more “…I have mine… already”.

And she gestured to the half-touched mojito, and the man just pushed it to the side, getting a dark look from the bartender who still annoyedly took the drink and flushed it down the sink.

She was annoyed for that waste but she thought she might just make the best out of this “suitor”.

… although she didn’t understand what he found in her.

But maybe she had just let Michael define her for too much time.

Maybe just because Michael wasn’t into her, it didn’t mean that others couldn’t be…

“Then… I think I’ll order Moscato” sweet wine would keep her satiated and would avoid her getting immediately drunk, mostly around an unknown man who turned to her, holding out his hand to her.

“… good choice” he smirked, before taking his hand to bring it to his lips “… I am Mark”.

It was all so corny, but she couldn’t help but bath into the interest she saw in his eyes and enjoyed the game for a bit further, offering her name and talking a bit, mostly he did the talking, meanwhile she nodded shyly and sometimes intervened, and soon her glass was empty but another was filling her hand, full this time.

At the third glass it was safe to say that her tongue had loosened, and she had started talking more with Mark, who still had his pretentious air, but somehow she found herself to like him, and be interested into him, mostly because the more alcohol filled her body the more she felt something sparking for the boy.

And then it all came down to when he asked her for a drink at his house.

“I have better wines than these” he uttered, whispering confidently at her and although she felt it was stupid and he was being a bit of a jackass, she accepted knowing where the night would be going and honestly, she wanted it to go like that.

She might have been innocent and inexperienced, but she wasn’t stupid and knew that Mark had just wanted a hook-up, exactly as Michael had chosen to do that night and honestly she had wanted the same thing.

Was it payback to Michael?

Not exactly… some part of her desperately wanted to know what it felt like to be enough… just for one night.

Mark wasn’t a charming man, he was certainly no Michael, but she saw he would have been enough for the night.

She knew it all about the first time being special, but you chose how to make it special, and she was tired of the taunting and not being enough.

She was leaving when Michal caught up to them, Mark was helping her with her coat and although it was a gentlemanly offering, she knew he was staring at her ass, blatantly and with no shame.

She thought that Michael’s dark look was due to him being worried for her, but it strangely shone greener that she had ever seen and before she knew it, she found herself to be roughly yanked away from Mark’s hand into Michael’s chest.

It must have been extremely awkward for Mark, since Michael clearly had no idea of things such as privacy and personal space and she knew they looked more like a couple than anything else.

“… are you going out?” mumbled Michael as if he didn’t know “… without telling me?”.

She couldn’t help but be a bit annoyed by the pretentious note in his voice, but still nodded, trying to distance herself a bit from him, but he tightened his grip, looking at her as if she had just stabbed him.

“… I thought it was supposed to be a night out, between the two of us” he insisted, his eyes pleading although they didn’t dare to beg for what they truly wanted, still too prideful.

“Michael… you basically ditched me!” she tried to make it sound as lighthearted as she could, but she told him what she had meant to tell him for so much: how he didn’t care in the deepest part of his soul for her.

He seemed taken aback by the affirmation and looked around as if he only realized in which situation they were right now, as if he only realized in that moment she had been hurt by his distance.

“… and you are going to get back home with this dick as a payback for me ignoring you?” his voice was halfway through hysterical and she couldn’t help but subtly tell him to lower his voice, since not only Mark was getting squeamish but also people were staring at her.

“I am a free woman, am I not Michael?” she mumbled, trying to get a laughter out of the entire situation to avoid it becoming too wary and dense, but Michael just sent her a look which clearly told her he wouldn’t be backing down, right in that moment.

This mean that Mark had to step up his game if he wanted her in his bed, by the end of the night.

She half expected him to disappear at the first notion of Michael, but instead… he puffed out his chest and approached Michael, gently tugging her by the wrist to make her escape the wizard’s grip, who deemed him worthy of just a simple look of disgust.

“Dude, she clearly said that she isn’t interested, so I suggest you back off, before it gets too bad for you” he threatened Michael and although she couldn’t help but be pissed with Michael’s antics, she didn’t like Mark’s tone, but before she could even chastise him and try to bring peace between the boys, Michael acted up, stepping forward, magic erupting from his body.

The entire place trembled and you weren’t able to stop a little screech from leaving your mouth, meanwhile Mark looked around not knowing what was going on around him but somehow he understood that it wasn’t natural.

And that it was Michael who caused it.

“I suggest that you are the one who back off, in this situation” he chanted quietly, meanwhile screams broke the reality around her, her hands immediately trying to stop them from entering her ears, a bit of blood erupting from her nose, since she was trying to counterbalance Michael’s influence to no avail, since the man was so focused on Mark that you were sure he would have been dead soon.

But then the entire vision broke off and suddenly the floor stopped spinning and trembling.

She let herself go with her knees hitting roughly the ground, her legs giving up under her.

She had gone easily because on Mark’s pants there was a darker stain and she could only guess what it was from its acidic smell, and as soon as the man realized what it was he tried to cover it to no avail, and in the end just fled the scene, embarrassment written all over his face.

“Pathetic” Michael simply whispered, shooting her an evil smirk, before he moved to stutter off to his girls, just to get roughly taken back from her hand onto his wrist, facing a very pissed (Y/N), much scarier than the vision he had evoked in the club.

“What have you done, Michael?” she asked, the fact that her voice was grave but held no raise of strength scared him much more than he might have thought “… I wanted him… I wanted to go back home with him”

“He is just a mortal… not worthy of you, kitten” Michael muttered, acting as if he knew better than her.

And that was the drop that made her release all her anger.

“… he might have been only a mortal, but it was my choice to make… not yours” and she pushed him, the first act of defiance she had acted up on him “… you never listen to me, you always are away and then you come back and expect to find me with open arms for you, never giving me back anything”.

Michael seemed taken aback from her words, and she knew she had hurt him, but in her anger-filled rant she didn’t care, in the slightest.

“… you are so intolerable and self-absorbed, incapable of truly understanding what it means to love others, only able to hurt them”.

She knew she was being harsh and adding some lies to the truth.

“You don’t mean these words, (Y/N)” his tone was wavering, as if something had been broken into him and he wasn’t able to keep a straight face, still he didn’t bed or apologized “… you’ll go to sleep tonight and then tomorrow you’ll realize that I did you a favor”.

She just shook her head, and went to adjust her coat, under Michael’s watchful eyes, turning her back to him, before uttering her last words.

“Of course… I am going to sleep because I can’t stand your stupid mind anymore” you shot back an angered look at him, seeing him being hit by your rage “… leave me alone, from now on”.

She had woken up with a ringing headache, probably caused by the wine and the knowledge that she had fucked up her relationship with her best friend.

She knew that it hadn’t been a normal fight with him, mostly because she knew and remembered what she had told him: those words were meant to hurt.

She remembered perfectly the face he had made after receiving those words.

A kicked puppy would have been less sad.

She had decided to stay in her room, mostly to calm down the anger in her mind.

Although she knew that she had been unfair to Michael, hurling at him some very hurtful things she was still pissed at his sudden show of protection, both because she didn’t need a man telling her what to do, and he couldn’t just decide something for her and then dismiss her as if she wasn’t important.

Tea and sleep helped her through the anger and the headache, but the knowledge of having ruined her relationship still thrummed in her head, and when she had talked about it with Zoe, who had tried to say that they would be soon back as friends, she couldn’t help but shed a few tears, knowing that even if Michael did forgive her and wanted her back as a friend, she didn’t know if everything would have been back as it was before.

“… don’t be overdramatic!” had taunted her Madison, suggesting that she just lifted her shirt and flashed Michael “… that will certainly make him forget why he is angry with you, men are beasts don’t forget it”.

But then she had gotten serious and just cuddled her gently suggesting that she stopped caring about Michael’s opinion.

“He isn’t so cool, and you’ll always have us” she had comforted you, before leaving her alone for a bit so that her and Zoe could go out for the afternoon, for which she was grateful because she could cry alone and try to get some relief by watching her favorite movie in her most comfortable pajamas, which ended up being a flying squirrel onesie, definitely nothing sexy.

And in that attire, she greeted Michael at her door, convinced that it was Queenie checking on her, after Madison’s orders.

She opened, almost screeching about having been interrupted at the best part of the movie, but she soon realized that it wasn’t the voodoo witch who was checking on her.

Michael looked honestly as if he had seen better times: his hair had been quickly brushed but they still seemed messy, not that she minded the messy curls, and his face looked red as his eyes, meanwhile his hands were roughly gripping a little bouquet of flowers.

She looked at it attentively, trying to remember about the botanic lessons she had had with Cordelia and recognizing purple hyancinth, stargazer lily, white orchids, peruvian lilies and finally her favorite flowers: sunflowers.

She couldn’t believe that not only Michael had come to her, making the first move, but he had gone as far as to get flowers.

“I really hope you didn’t get those from Cordelia’s garden” she was only able to utter, making Michael’s smirk lightly, meanwhile he gave her the flowers, attentive at avoiding skin on skin contact for which she was grateful.

“… and did you have any attention on starring into ‘Madagascar 4: Escaping Robinchaux’ with that pajama? he retorted back and she couldn’t help but laugh loudly, meanwhile she moved into the room to set down the flowers, magically creating a vase, meanwhile Michael followed her, used into being let in her room.

She tried to keep herself occupied, meanwhile a dense silence fell between them and she almost thought about trying to make the first move, apologizing as she always did, just to try to mend the relationship, but Michael surprised her again.

“I am sorry for last night” he sat down, looking at his dress pants “…I was jealous of that guy, he didn’t give me good vibes and I don’t’ want you to be hurt, kitten”.

His voice spoke of deep regret and for a moment she considered that he might have gone through the same torment of her the previous night… maybe even worse since he seemed also too fidgety as if he was nervous.

She tried to be active to avoid having to sit down and stare at him in the eyes, filling a kettle with water and putting on the fire, before turning around, watching him behind her lashes.

“…I am thankful for your concern, but I am a big girl and I can handle thing on my own”.

The harshness in her tone, clearly shone, and he gulped down a big load of saliva, but her eyes shone with more gentleness, although he couldn’t see them, since he had his eyes glued to the floor, as it pained him to say he was sorry.

“I know, but…” he raised his head finally and she met his eyes which shone even brighter due to the tears he had shed “… but sometimes you seem so frail and delicate and… innocent… and I am scared that anything might hurt you”.

His words were genuine, and she softened her mouth, although it still didn’t form a smile.

“I seem… you know I am not weak” she reminded him, meanwhile the kettle started whistling loudly and she had to put it out of the fire, gently dipping the tea she had chosen, a green tea to relax and purify her body.

Michael followed her movements and she shyly almost dropped the kettle, Michael helping her with magic to keep it steady.

“I know, you are so strong that sometimes I wonder why you have ended up with me, a coward”.

Although she felt still angry at him, she couldn’t help but rush to him, as soon as she put down the kettle, gently siding next to him, with a strong gaze of stone in her eyes.

“You are not a coward, Michael” she cooed him gently.

But the man refused her words, shaking slightly his head, covering his face with his hands.

“I am… as you said… I am only capable of taking and never giving” his voice was shaky and she hugged him closer, regretting each word she had said, being unable to believe she had caused so much sufferance “… but the void in me, ask for more and more and it is never satisfied”.

She couldn’t understand and grasp the full entity of his words, but just held him, shushing him with sweet words.

“I was pissed Michael, I threw onto you a lot of my insecurities, my innocence and not being enough for you”.

This got to him, finally opening his eyes and looking at her with confusion in his pretty eyes,

“You don’t believe to be enough for me?” and he gently grasped her face, making her gasp at the sudden change of position “… you are much more than I deserve and I don’t know how my Father paired me up with such a divine creature, kitten”.

His lips softly lowered onto her forehead as if he was giving her a blessing and she didn’t know but the fear of being rejected suddenly came back into her and she distanced herself from him.

“… then why am I the only one you don’t…” she felt silly t her own words, knowing they would break her promise not to utter a single word that might break their relationship but she had already said enough to definitely change it, so she took the breaking step “…touch me like others… I have been wanting you for the longest time”

And Michael seemed so surprised by this, gently reaching out again and she let him.

“… I put you on a pedestal, (Y/N), the one girl I can’t have, because that’s what the void ask for” he gently brushed their noses together “… that one thing I am scared to taint is the same I love the most”.

And he finally kissed her, softly, cradling her face completely, meanwhile her hands immediately tangled in his hair, pushing him closer, showing that she wasn’t afraid in the slightest to be tainted.

That if the void did ask of her, she would give herself to him, as she swiftly pushed herself onto his lap, perching on them as a true kitten.

It was his time to be surprised, and she just smiled lightly.

“I told you I am not weak” and she reached out for his hands, linking them with hers “… I am not scared of being tainted, as long as you are the one who’ll do it”.

“It isn’t something you can come back from, kitten” he gently caressed her hair back, to show her full face “… I don’t want it to be a regret, in your life”.

“I don’t think that I can now live with the knowledge of not having you when you want me so much” Michael looked still doubtful, although pleasure was something his eyes searched and she knew he needed just a little push “… or maybe I should ask Mark to do it”,

Before she knew it, she was on the floor, Michael on top of her, his smirk was cruelly evil, but she wasn’t scared, she just smiled back and he just mumbled, before leaning down her neck:

“Other than tainting you, I need to make it clear to everyone that you are indeed mine”.

[theoverlyenthusiasticwriter]

Wondrous Misfortune

Chapter 5

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

When the Bonce Carver’s prediction is not what it seems, Cassian and Nesta are blessed with twins of their own. In the happiness of family, there is struggle too, especially when raising two children who are more wicked than themselves.

Enjoy this Tumblr exclusive chapter that I wrote only recently. Prepare yourself for ultimate fluff, light smut, and all of the twin’s adorableness.

*****

“Why is Mommy crying?” Nesta heard Aralyn whisper to her brother.

Nesta clamped a hand of her mouth, trying to stifle the sob threatening her throat. They shouldn’t have to see her like this. She shouldn’t be like this around them.

Outside the war tent, soldiers returned to their campfires or washed themselves in the stream. Some that had gone out that morning wouldn’t come back and the casualty lists hadn’t been released.

The battle had been long coming, tensions drawn tight between the humans of Prythain and parts of the Autumn Court. It was the eighth day of battle but the first with the Night Court’s armies.

Nesta knew she was being ridiculous. If Cassian was killed, she would feel it down the bond, but that thought didn’t stop the anxiety coursing through her.

She had spent the first half of the day on the battlefield right alongside him but it didn’t take long for her power to deplete itself. Cassian made her leave, nearly hauling her away from the battle. The rest of the day was spent helping the wounded beside Madja, grumbling, and waiting for her mate to return.

Dirty, tired, and angry, Nesta paced before the tent flaps, her imagination running wild.

Cassian had shut her out of his side of the bond.

Titus whispered back to Aralyn, “I think she’s sad.”

Nesta covered her face with her hand, trying to calm herself. They were barely five years old, their birthday only days away. They didn’t need to see this.

The flap flew open and Cassian’s helmet thumped to the floor.

His armor was harsh and covered in blood, face smeared in it. He looked every bit the General Commander, but she didn’t care.

He was okay.

Aralyn and Titus leapt into their father’s arms, unafraid of the blades and the gore. Cassian set them each on a hip, kissing their faces over and over again. They giggled for they didn’t see the tears shining in his eyes.

Nesta held herself steady, meeting her mate’s gaze of the curls of Aralyn’s hair. His lips pressed to their daughter’s forehead, eyes fluttering close.

Together, Nesta and Cassian tucked the twins into a tent they shared with Elain’s daughters and sat in silence as they ate. The stew had grown cold, tasting of undercooked rabbit.

Cassian broke the silence as Nesta moved to wash the bowls, “I’m sorry.”

She set the porcelain in the sink with more aggression than necessary. “I could have stayed.”

“You were more useful here, Nesta, and I couldn’t….”

“Couldn’t what, Cassian?” She whirled on him, eyes like fire.

“Couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt.”

“Well, neither could I! You could have been bleeding out on that battlefield and I wouldn’t have known until it was too late.” The whole camp likely could hear her shouting and she thought they ought to.

He fell silent, staring hard at the dents in the small table. “I’m sorry,” he said at last.

Nesta went back to the dishes.

Cassian came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. He said into her hair, “I know you won’t forgive me, but will you at least try to understand?”

“I do understand. I do. That doesn’t make me any less angry.”

He kissed her cheek. “I am sorry. Really. But I would do it again in a heartbeat. I will not leave my children orphans.”

She let out a sob, turning in his arms. Her nails scratched against the metal of his armor as she clutched him to her.

Seconds, maybe minutes passed until she was able to master herself. She pulled back, sniffling. “You reek.”

His laugh rumbled through her. “Will you bathe with me?”

“No. There’s two tubs for a reason and neither of them can fit the both of us. You’ll just have to keep your hands to yourself.”

He stepped back and she helped him undo the buckles to his armor. He went to his bath before she could see him remove his clothes, stripping while she prepared her own bath. There was a canvas wall between them and she supposed it was probably a good thing.

Once clean, she slipped between the furs of their bed, watching that other tent flap.

Cassian came out naked, showing off that warriors body. Nesta sat up.

He was battered in bruises and cuts but mostly unharmed. He wasn’t grinning for once as he crawled over her in bed, pressing his lips hesitantly against hers. “I love you.” 

She slid her hands over his shoulders, pulling him closer. “I love you too.”

*****

There was something on the edge of the bed.

Nesta’s first instinct was to kick but she heard the quiet flutter of wings and a whisper. She peeked her eyes open, finding Aralyn pulling Titus up the steps to their bed. Cassian’s helmet was covering his face, nearly bumping his shoulders.

Nesta let out a quiet laugh, drawing her children’s attention. Aralyn gave a crooked grin, dropping her brother as she bounded across the bed. Titus landed on the floor with a metallic thump.

Aralyn fell on top of her mother, giggling madly. Nesta sat up, setting her in her lap while holding up the blankets with her arms. She peered over the side of the bed.

Now she understood why he was having such trouble getting into the bed. Not only his helmet, but Titus also wore Cassian’s chest plate like a dress on him and had his wrist gauntlets around his legs.

Nesta laughed louder now, grabbing her son’s arm. She hauled him onto the bed, setting him down beside her and Aralyn. Aralyn was absently fiddling with the curls of her hair, mesmerized by the gold in it.

When Nesta glanced over, she found Cassian awake, smiling at Titus. He spun the helmet on Titus’s head around, blocking his vision. 

“Daddy!” Titus wailed, yanking the helmet off.

Cassian let out a low laugh.

Nesta tickled Aralyn’s side, drawing peals of giggles from her rosebud mouth. “What are you doing here?”

Aralyn gasped, wiggling away. “Aunt Feyre said to wake you.”

Nesta frowned, glancing down at Cassian. He should have left to return to battle already. Right?

Her mate shook his head. “There was a peace treaty last night. That’s why I was out so late.”

“So we go home today?”

“Not quite yet, but hopefully by tomorrow.” 

“Home?” Titus asked, wriggling gleefully. Metal clanked.

Aralyn grinned again, showing off her missing teeth. “We’re going home!”

Nesta kissed her cheek and set her on the floor. “Why don’t you two go see if Feyre and Rhys need help with breakfast?”

Titus scrambled down while Aralyn found the discarded helmet. Together, they ran into the camp.

Nesta rolled onto Cassian’s chest, poking one of his nipples. “You didn’t tell me about the treaty yesterday.”

He caught her hand. “I was too busy trying not to get my cock chopped off.”

“You could have mentioned it after we were fighting.”

“But then I was trying to get my cock sucked.”

“Prick.” Her cheeks were on fire. “We need to get dressed.”

“I kinda just want to stay here all day. Naked. In this bed.”

“In the middle of a camp with no privacy where everyone can hear us and our children can come in at any moment.”

He snorted. “Good point.”

Nesta slipped out of bed, padding around to the box filled with their clothes. She bent at the waist, digging through.

Behind her, Cassian groaned. “Oh, you’re perfect.”

She straightened, glaring at him. His hands were beneath the sheets, moving quickly.

Nesta threw a boot at him. “Stop that.”

“I’m afraid that’s not gonna happen, sweetheart.” He closed his eyes, arching slightly.

She blushed madly. “Cassian, the kids could be back--”

“Nesta.”

“I’m serious. There are too many people awake and--”

He cut her off again, but this time with a kiss. Then he pulled her right into bed above him. “Anymore protests?” he asked as his clever fingers slid between her thighs.

Nesta gasped, then clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle herself. She shook her head.

Cassian grinned.

Their joining was hard and fast and Cassian was preparing for a second round, Nesta moaning beneath him, when the tent flap burst open.

A young soldier stood there, eyes wide. “I heard sound of struggle,” he gasped and blushed.

Cassian, not even bothering to cover them up, promised, “There was no struggle, soldier. You may leave.”

The soldier stumbled away.

Nesta sighed, running her hands through her hair. “See? This is why--”

“You consented and don’t act like you didn’t enjoy that.” He stood, reaching for his trousers. “What are you waiting for? Get dressed.”

She punched him in the shoulder, snatching up her clothes. “Go to hell.”

He snatched her ass on her way to the bathing room, hissing in a way that set her on fire. “Mine.”

Breakfast was ready by the time they made it to the large tent where it was served. Aralyn was on the shoulders of a random Illyrian while another tossed Titus in the air. The soldiers loved the children, reveling in their youth. Nesta wondered how many had children waiting for them at home. 

Cassian passed her a plate as they took their seats beside the High Lord and Lady.

“What took you so long?” Feyre asked. “We sent a soldier to check on you and he just said you were busy.”

Nesta choked on her bacon; Cassian just grinned.

“It doesn’t matter,” Nesta said, pinching Cassian’s thigh. She watched two of the soldiers nearly play catch with a joyous Titus as their ball. “Where’s Aralyn?”

At this, Cassian stopped grinning to scan the hall. He rose when she turned up empty. 

Feyre waved a hand in dismissal. “One of the soldiers probably took her outside to play.”

As one, Nesta and Cassian rose. She marched into the middle of the tent, searching the arms of every Illyrian. Cassian was already outside and shouting.

The wind shifted near her ear, whispering, “Up.”

Nesta looked up, finding Aralyn balanced on one of the ceiling rafters, grinning as she wobbled. Her heart dropped.

She was about to shout but Azriel appeared at her side. “We were playing hide-and-seek.”

“Get her down,” she gasped. “She doesn’t know how to fly yet.”

He waved a scarred hand dismissively. “She has excellent balance.”

“How the hell did she get there?” Her voice was rising with each note that came out of her mouth.

He shrugged. “Climbed. Maybe one of the warriors helped her.”

“Get her down!” Nesta shouted at the same Aralyn glanced down. Her arms flailed.

Azriel shot upwards, drawing the crowd’s attention. And just as Aralyn listed too far to one side, he caught her.

Nesta let out a breath. “Go get the General,” she snapped to one of the warriors.

When Aralyn was in her arms again, Nesta allowed herself to hold her tight for only a moment.

Then she growled at her daughter, “You know you’re not a strong flyer. Pull a stunt like that again and you won’t leave your room for a month.”

Aralyn’s lips wobbled. “I’m sorry, Mommy.”

“What were you thinking?”

“I wanted to show Uncle Az.” She wiped at her eyes, hiccoughing. “He does it all the time.”

Nesta shot a dark look around but Azriel was nowhere to be found.

Cassian rushed in, sweeping Aralyn out of her arms. He kissed her nose, eyes wide. “You were all the way up there? I’m so proud of you!”

“Cassian!” Nesta snapped.

He glanced at her, a brow cocked. He knew how against she was of Aralyn flying, even if he encouraged it.

Aralyn’s eyes crinkled. “All the way up there and I wasn’t even scared!”

“Really?” He moved away, continuing to shower her in praises.

Nesta’s lip curled. She shouldn’t yell at him in front of the crowd, but the words boiled in her throat as she stared at his back.

Tonight, she told him through the bond, you and I will talk.

I count on it, sweetheart.

Nesta sat back down, pushing her plate away. 

Feyre glanced at her in concern. “Is something--”

“No.”

She tapped her fork nervously, sighing.

It was then that Nesta noticed Titus in the High Lord’s lap, eyes wide as stars as he watched the shadows in Rhysand’s hands dance.

Her son laughed out loud when one of the shadows flicked his nose. Some of the soldiers smiled their way.

Cassian snatched Titus away a moment later, pressing a slobbering, ticking kiss to his belly.

Titus screamed in delight.

Cassian settled him on his hip as he made his way back to Nesta. “Are you still mad?”

Feyre and Rhys quickly found something else to pay attention to.

Nesta couldn’t be mad with Titus laughing like that. Cassian knew it too. “Where’s Aralyn?”

“Still playing with Azriel.”

Nesta opened her mouth but he held up a hand.

“I told him not to let her above his head.”

She closed her mouth, muttering a quiet, “Thank you.”

He set Titus on her lap. He instantly clung to her, still grinning from ear to ear. “I’m gonna get tattoos, Mommy, all the way up my arms like Daddy.” He pushed up his sleeves, showing off his baby-smooth arms.

Nesta kissed one of his wrists. “You’ll look so handsome, baby.”

He wriggled gleefully, wings fluttering. 

She smiled, pressing a kiss to his brow. “Go see if you can help Uncle Az find your sister.”

*****

They did talk that night.

Negotiations finished early, sending them home by dinner. It was after Nesta shoved Cassian onto the bed and didn’t let up until both of them collapsed.

He said, head pillowed by her breasts, “Aralyn needs to learn.”

“You remember what happened last time.” It had been horrible. They’d practiced above the lake. Aralyn had grown too confident, flying above the trees while Cassian helped Titus.

A strong gust of wind blew her straight into the branches.

Nesta had screamed.

She’d winnowed before she could stop herself, wrapping herself around her daughter.

Nesta broke two ribs before she winnowed back to the ground. 

Cassian shifted, rubbing the stubble of his face over her chest. “It still… haunts me sometimes. But, Nesta, the only way we can stop that from happening again is to teach her.”

She sat up, pulling her nightgown over her head. “What if it happens again? What if neither of us can get to her?”

“That’s why we teach her. Soon, she’ll be too old. The instincts won’t come as naturally. You see how Titus flies, he doesn’t even have to think about it. We have to give her that.”

“I’m scared, Cassian. I’m just so scared.”

“We’ll bring the entire Inner Circle up, make a day of it. None of them will let her get hurt.” He stood, reaching for his boxers. It was the middle of the night and neither of them had gotten a wink of sleep. “I’ll talk to them about it. They’d be willing--”

“I don’t want to.” She sat up, pulling her knees to her chest beneath the blanket. “A million things could go wrong--”

“She has to learn sometime, Nesta!”

Tears slipped down her face. “My baby. My baby girl.”

Cassian wrapped his arms around her shaking shoulders, pulling until she fell into his chest. “I know,” he whispered into her hair. “I know. She won’t get hurt, Nes, I promise. I swear it on my life.”

She cried, face buried in his neck. 

Their door creaked open, a small head peeking in. 

Nesta looked up. Of course it was Aralyn.

“I had a bad dream,” she said shakily, fiddling with the hem of her nightgown. 

Cassian held his hand out to her. She climbed into bed, wiggling her way between them.

Nesta ran her hand over her black curls, settling down. “What was the nightmare about, baby?”

Aralyn sniffled delicately. “There were trees and they kept on trying to keep you guys and Titus away. And, Mommy, you--” She broke down, crying so hard it wracked her little body. “You got to me and the trees--the trees swallowed you up. You were gone, Mommy.”

Nesta pulled her fully into her lap, rocking slightly. “I’m right here, baby. Nothing’s gonna take me away from you. Or Daddy.”

She bobbed her head, more tears slipping out.

Nesta carefully lay her down, on Cassian’s chest, snuggling in beside them. Cassian whispered sweet words into her ear until her crying calm and her mismatched eyes fluttered shut.

One eye for each of them.

Nesta fell asleep.

[illegiblewords]

5 Questions for Writers!

               5 Questions for Writers                                                        

I got tagged by @kunstpause, it looked like fun so figured I’d go for it! THANKS TO KUNST!

Tagging @wouldyouliketoseemymask, @nilim, @azwoodbomb, @peregrineroad, @frostmantle, @autumnslance, @strangefellows, @redbud-tree, @nozomikei​, and @rivenroad​. No obligation to anyone but full permission to steal granted to anyone else who might like to. I’ll literally be delighted if you pick this up spontaneously and blame me as an excuse lmao.

1. Do you have a favorite character to write? Who and why?

2. Do you have a favorite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

3. Share your favorite description you’ve written?

4. Share your favorite dialogue you’ve written?

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

I made long answers so have a cut!

1. Do you have a favorite character to write? Who and why?

It depends heavily on what fandom and where I am mentally, but I’ve figured out I tend to love writing angsty lameass dudes with blonde hair who are prone to doing really silly things despite taking themselves entirely too seriously. Honestly, I have a pretty huge track record at this point. Harvey Dent, Vexen, Dmitri, Lahabrea, probably more besides. Every one of them fits the right balance of lameass to angst. I like seeing them grow and find fulfillment as people and they are very very cute while still having an edge of badassery and cleverness. Also they’re funny.

Lahabrea is my favorite at the moment, and him reaching that position is an accomplishment considering how stiff the competition is in FFXIV. Loser tricked his way to the top while I was busy laughing at him.

2. Do you have a favorite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

I really, really, really love redemption arcs and people recovering from fucked up experiences. Latter case especially I love seeing characters in those situations successfully connect to the people and world around them, especially if they get to grow together with a partner. I also LOVE “hero saves the villain and villain takes it to heart”.

(You may be sensing a theme here haha.)

There are a few reason these concepts resonate with me, the first being I think they’re really hopeful, inspiring, and something I always wanted to see growing up but rarely did.

People fuck up in life. People get hurt in horrible ways that bring out the worst in them. Sometimes when that happens they dig themselves deeper and deeper into ugliness. The more a person’s bad side comes out, the more hopeless it can feel. And for mental illness especially I’ve found this can be a major issue.

Everyone makes mistakes and everyone has flaws, but I think there’s something really significant in seeing someone who has hit rock bottom, who can no longer imagine a way out, get offered a hand for support and take it. While recovery and redemption (not synonymous of course) ultimately need to be carried by the individual struggling, I really can’t understate how important it is to know in those situations that you’re not alone and someone believes in you.

I think a big part of why this theme is important to me is because mental illness, both genetic and due to trauma, is something unbelievably difficult and painful not only for the sufferer but those around them. The most mentally ill characters in fiction tend to be villains, and are disproportionately more likely to be suffering severe trauma. It frustrated me since I was pretty young to see over and over again cases where a mess could have been avoided if there was any support system in place.

Seeing compassion and connection given that kind of power means a lot to me, as does recognizing that villains are people before they are villains. It’s also very reassuring in the sense of “If this person fucked up that badly but still tried to better themself, I can too. And odds are I’m also worthy of love and compassion, even when my issues make things harder for others. I just have to keep working to improve.”

3. Share your favorite description you’ve written?

Eff.

Straight up I think I’ve written too much to have just one favorite description. It’s been a lot of years and I have hundreds of fics and I’m lame. So I’m going to put a few of my favs.

Anytime there’s a gap in block quotes it’s a different section within the same fic.

22 - A Batman Fanfic

He trembles beneath the weight of their expectations but his smile never fades flashes before cameras microphones under his nose crowds screaming questions bleeding together he answers like clockwork the District Attorney who must bring justice to us all paying tribute to false idols with golden hair and silver tongues we the people bow down in worship to this guardian of the law with words and deeds I believe in Harvey Dent so he swears in hallowed halls to bring prosperity to smite the wicked to damn the criminal with authority invested in him by Gotham’s dutiful children and himself.

***

On the precipice of victory we stand united our voice raised like a torch like a spear like a golden arrow against the beast of Lerna we are gods and monsters we are so much more than good and evil we are order in the court cauterizing corruption our head held high and mighty manifest in Harvey of the doubletalk Harvey who writes himself into the fabric of Gotham’s history Harvey who will not bend before the Roman we command you the unworthy we condemn you the unrighteous we will not be merciful and you will fall before our eyes.

***

I am Dionysus divided at the altar of Tyche O Fortuna O Fortuna give me guidance in the light of the moon you dance sacred silver dollar I see and obey the wax and wane your whim Wheel of Fortune the card I am dealt your servant your slave venerated puppet of flesh blessed is your wisdom bestowed upon I am your disciple wine-mad twisted chanting your word becomes law holy splendor against gavels desecrating your name defiant in denial extend your will through me and we shall strike the innocent enlighten the ignorant or spare them all for now.

Doppelganger - A Spider-Man Fanfic

She asks him to tell the story of himself, and like Scheherazade he begins anew each day.

As with many other things, this comparison is imperfect. The Ravencroft Institute is hardly a palace and neither of them could pass for royalty. She sits in a chair across from him over a carpet the color of sawdust. Her walls are lined with insects pinned on display. Not many butterflies, quite a few beetles. On a bookshelf Dmitri sees The Metamorphosis nestled between non-fiction texts more relevant to her profession. He thinks maybe it's an inside joke she has with herself, but doesn't say so.

He's received an invitation to call her Ashley instead of Dr. Kafka and doesn't know whether to accept. It might be to make him more comfortable. It might be something else. In her late fifties Kafka is built from delicate features, and he suspects the lines around her eyes mean they crinkle when she smiles. Short black hair, beige suit, only jewelry a pair of diamond stud earrings. Dmitri thinks she looks like a mother, but not his.

Her weight sinks into leather, darker than the floor. The couch he rests on matches. He finds himself leaning forward with one elbow propped on his thigh, the other locked in a cast suspended by his neck. There is something reassuringly empty in the gray fabric of his uniform, cheap and utilitarian and harmless. Dmitri’s wrists are thin, but then he's lost a lot of weight recently. He probably wouldn't be able to run as fast as he used to, but then circumstances would be the same anywhere he went so that really doesn't matter. His espionage days are over. His free arm is shedding in flakes but at least his skin is dry. Clean.

Dmitri no longer looks like anyone, unrecognizable to himself. A face without much in the way of edges, short nose. Weak chin. Mismatched eyes that shift between green and blue and brown and every other natural hue as moments pass into minutes pass into hours. Dark blotches interrupt his forehead and chin. They will peel in new patterns across a span of days. For the most part though, he is pale enough to trace veins where his body seems on the brink of spilling out.

It's been a while since he shaved his head and the hair that grows back is almost foreign. An unruly mess of black, blond, brunet, and red—strands as unlike in texture as anything else. The mask that made him Chameleon was white plastic embedded with hardware. Left deformed after trying to resemble others in flesh too many times, it allowed him to duplicate any face, any body he could remember. More than holograms, the most complete sensory illusions technology could perform.

Without it, Dmitri feels stripped.

When Kafka looks at him she’s receiving constant signals and missing none of them. The moments he needs to turn away, flat monosyllabic turns of phrase he chooses or resorts to or blankly accepts as his own. It doesn’t have to be this way. It isn’t comfortable and he doesn’t even trust it’s not calculated. But she’s going to notice no matter what he does at this point, and lying about it doesn’t do anyone much good. They both know why he’s here.

***

“We were poor. We worked hard to keep ourselves fed and clothed and less than an embarrassment. I probably could have worked harder. Mother,” he begins before stumbling over himself.

The story he’s telling isn’t hers. Whatever else she was, Sonya Smerdyakov wasn’t Mrs. Bates. He remembers her voice as the beginning of an echo, forever following someone else’s lead.

And so he followed her.

She was bright like a light going out. She was gentle without being kind. Her fingers were short and delicate and she touched him as little as possible. He found her attention in the way she avoided his name.

***

In the privacy of his room, Dmitri began talking to himself.

Celebrities. Teachers. Children. The flat, steady rhythm of his father’s voice. The words and intonations favored by mother. Sergei’s laugh. He lost himself in a fantasy of conversations, strode through space to mimic confidence he didn’t feel, flashed teeth in front of his mirror like other people.

Once, Dmitri raised his voice. And when his older brother came, eyebrows knitting in confusion, he found himself full of stammered explanations, hands fumbling at his elbows, stumbling over his tongue to make sense of it.

Just making stories for himself. A game with no ending. That was all.

***

He would have died in that town under the eyes of speechless parents. Dmitri remembers the confusion that took his peers when he found a job for people who spoke for themselves. They thought he might be growing up.

He could lie. And when he began he understood it would always be a game with no ending.

Dmitri lost himself in a fantasy of conversations with real people and a voice that didn’t belong to him.

They asked a stranger to sign their yearbooks without even realizing it.

And then he was eighteen, and he left to continue elsewhere.

He didn’t announce his departure.

From Umbra - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

It was probably a dream.

Lukewarm water crept down his throat, nearly making him choke. A skin pressed to his lips, insistent. He coughed, and for the first time there was moisture enough for resistance.

The face that obscured his vision was shrouded in white cloth. Cenric found he couldn’t focus on it. Mismatched eyes, one light and the other dark. Impossible to say if blindness caused the inconsistency.

A string of shells dangled from the figure’s neck, rattling gently. The skin pulled back for a moment. Careful. Patient.

It returned only once he'd grown quiet. Cenric drank for as long as he could. Impossibly, a great deal remained by the time he relinquished his hold.

There wasn't enough of him present to say thank you. Cenric barely registered being dragged, being carried onto a cart. Awareness was altogether gone by the time they started to move.

***

…to the blessed traders who enrich our lives we’re bound to pay with our lives in turn aether born fire-walker your will sees us to rest we entrust ourselves to your sight forged of oschon for peace and prosperity and an ending you do not weep for father azeyma lives in the earth with you her fan brings no breeze the air is hot and thick and breathless your domain a silent place that does not stir have you forgotten the sound of your own voice have you known what it is to live and fail have you been alone do you know what it is to die how can a god pass judgment without being judged nald’thal lord of departures of flame and sand whose coin purse overflows who knows not what it means to starve what it means to spoil the legacy of one who loved you nald’thal who holds shells and souls and precious stones as if their worth were equal nald’thal who cannot know mercy without knowing pain who are you to weigh mortal affairs?

***

In darkness he unwinds the black bandana, steps first from his slops and then his kurta. Yuyudana has provided robes, which rest neatly on a small rock nearby. It crosses Cenric’s mind that the bones of his knees, his hips, his wrists, even his face have all started to protrude strangely. He looks less hyuran than before, maybe less than he ever has. Closer to something priests would exorcise than anyone deserving aid.

He wonders if this idea has occurred to them.

The water, when he advances, is cold. Goosebumps raise across his skin as slowly, gingerly, he wades in to his waist.

Cenric ducks under.

His hair is a long and tangled wreck. Being wet only disguises this slightly. It drifts past his neck, comes to float near the surface. Cenric holds himself in silence, eyes open, watching the silver scatter of light over stones and plants and fish. He remains for as long as he can bear.

His vision stings afterward. Gasping, he can’t tell if the cause is exposure or something else. For a time he simply waits, breathing hard through his nose, hunched so that his lips are partially submerged.

He thinks of nothing, pretends that this time instead of no future he has no past.

Only one moon remains. Maybe the sky aches for losing Dalamud, but better that than the blow which scarred Eorzea.

Stalemate - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

He is presented with impressions of a horse, gaunt and fetid and decayed. Spreading ruin wheresoever it goes. Occasionally it sloughs off portions of its own flesh, which collect flies and blacken any land that surrounds. On its back rests a world, and alongside it does the herd struggle under their own burdens. But even beasts of such endurance have limits. Theirs are reached. When the rotten steed lags, its companions cannot afford to falter. Cannot turn. Without its ability to bear loads, this aberration has no place. Falling is inevitable.

Yet a heart still beats and lungs yet swell.

The Ascian shivers in his grasp, but does not attempt escape.

Here, something festers. Something bleeds. An old wound exacerbated over time.

Fevered, coated in a film of self-disgust, the core of Lahabrea convulses.

 Don’t…

 Don’t leave me like this…

***

Teeth and tongue. Lingering, wet, disembodied. Another finds his hip. Another his thigh, slipping beneath what clothes remain.

And another.

And another.

Warm, human, seeking. The Warrior tightens his hold, uses the moan crawling from his own chest as incentive. Barred by naught but fabric, driving close as he can manage. Lahabrea makes a strangled sound, his gasp crushed empty. A new mouth finds the dark knight’s ear in response.

These are parts of him no one dares touch, no one dares acknowledge. Slick now, attended with something like reverence. Supplication.

He resolves to fuck the Ascian senseless for this, presses his intent deep into Lahabrea’s aether. He is going to steal all his fancy words away. Make him squirm.

“I… I…” Tight, airless, like a plucked string. The Warrior feels Lahabrea’s voice reverberate against the roof of his mouth.

The feeling is difficult to describe. Cracked ice. A fraying rope. Such is Lahabrea's response, fumbling and disoriented as it is.

The Warrior lets go.

4. Share your favorite dialogue you’ve written?

Just imagine me weeping over here lmao. Same deal as before, I’VE DONE TOO MUCH SHIT.

Spare Change - A Batman Fanfic

"Stop," he gasps, "I wouldn’t—"

"You would Harvey. You did. It’s what makes you such a damn good instrument. You had to test yourself, prove that you’re not a real person.” He can feel fingers grinding against bone. His knees bend. Harvey kneels, shuddering, gazing up into the destruction of his own visage. Two-Face meets his eyes, blue on blue. “People are weak. People are ruled by what they want and don’t want. You’re capable of anything if the wind blows just right. You can’t even stop yourself.”

"I wouldn’t," he repeats, numbly.

"Did you," demands Two-Face, forcing him down further, "or did you not flip for their lives, Harvey Dent?"

"We…We aren’t the same people anymore."

"Of COURSE we’re the same people!" Another shove and he’s on the ground, Two-Face sitting on his chest, teeth bared, coin clenched tight between them. "Do you really think you can close your eyes and pretend you aren’t capable of these things? They’re alive," and there is something hideous in his expression, something certain, "because they were lucky. No other reason.”

"The coin is gone! Even if I wanted to listen to it—I can’t!”

"If you’re so sure," says Two-Face, "then how about you improvise?”

And with one motion the silver dollar is under his tongue, forced back so hard he feels himself gag and begin to choke before his eyes open.

The Inquisitor’s Letters - A Dragon Age: Inquisition Fanfic

To His Worship Inquisitor Mahanon Lavellan of Skyhold, My name is Isell from Amaranthine and I’m seven. My mum is helping but says I can send you all by myself. Thank you for fixing the hole in the sky and also the one by the dead man’s house. There were demons but they’re mostly gone now and people are going outside now. Da says Amaranthine has been through too much and can survive anything and he says you’re an elf like us and the Hero of Ferelden was an elf too. He says people used to think elves can’t be heroes but now they don’t. Have you met the Hero of Ferelden? Also I heard that even though you’re Dalish Andraste helped you in the Fade and that humans let you be in the Chantry because anyone Andraste likes must be a really good person. What’s Andraste like? The Chant says a lot but it’s different meeting someone I think. Also I think I saw you a little before but Mum wasn’t sure because you had a helmet on and we were far away and there were a lot of people but I bet it was you. Da wasn’t sure I should write because he says the Dalish don’t like city elves like we are but I think you must be nice and Mum agrees with me. I’ve been playing demon hunters with my brother Arrion (he’s just five still) and Da said templars are who fights demons usually and elves can’t be templars. People thought elves couldn’t be heroes and inquisitors though and we are so I bet I could too. Is it hard fighting demons? Da says they’re real scary but I’m not scared. Thank you for helping us and everyone and I hope you kill lots of demons. Sincerely, Isell U’venlan

From Umbra - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

Cenric sits on the floor, draped in a white cotton tunic. It might have been snug on a Roegadyn but anyone else would find ample room. Behind him, Memesu stands on a cot holding shears. Gold earrings dangle on either side of her face.

“I fought at Carteneau, you know,” she mentions casually. There is a soft hsssssshhhh. Click.

Hair hits the floor. Coils.

He starts to shake his head, aborts the gesture partway through. Stills. “…you saw Bahamut?”

Memesu snorts. “I’m sure everyone this side of Hydaelyn saw Bahamut.” Click.

“That’s probably true,” he concedes. The dragon is what everyone knows, everyone remembers. He can't imagine the proximity. “What about the Warriors of Light?”

“Pff.” Gentle tugging at his scalp. Cenric does not open his eyes but leans into the motion. “I wasn’t of rank to see their like. Not that I’d remember. Stop moving.” Click.

Cenric hesitates.

“What do you remember, then?”

For a time, the only sound comes from blades and a thousand strands cut short. This lasts for several minutes. Cenric resigns himself to secrets.

Then, “I used to think I was special too. As a twin. My sister was Memeni. We studied together.”

 Was.

The exhale hits him slowly, quietly.

“She died?”

He can feel the shrug in her hip against his shoulder.

“It was Carteneau,” says Memesu. “Of course she died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” Click. “It had nothing too do with you. If you keep trying to claim responsibility for every misfortune you find, you’re going to get self-important.”

Cenric only grunts, quiet and non-committal.

 Click.

 Click.

 Click.

“Carteneu was so much worse than people remember. Only four years later and already we hurry to dispose of details.” There is a hard undercurrent to Memesu’s voice, but what contact she makes remains light. Careful. “I remember the arcanist from Limsa who didn’t dodge a magitek canon in time. Miqo’te. Spells come faster in that discipline, so there’s less stress on distance than thaumaturgy. Girl got careless.” Click. “The mess smelled like rotten eggs and charcoal. Her face was… melted.” Click. “I try not to look in those situations. They only make casting harder. But she was so close.”

Cenric doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word.

Memesu continues. “One of our own gladiators, an Ala Mhigan, took to mutilating any pureblooded Garleans he could catch. The man had a string of eyes hanging around his neck. I’m pretty sure one enemy officer wet himself before he started to beg. Not that it particularly mattered.”

 Click.

“Memeni… didn’t anticipate what she was getting herself into. She saw magic as a way of being useful to craftsmen. My focus has always been theoretical. Right side.” Startled, Cenric lets her guide his jaw to get a better view of his profile. Click. Click. “Meni used to think I was a priss. She preferred to develop magitek kettles alongside alchemists. See if she could find a way to capture light like the Mhachi did. She still enjoyed fishing when she could, even though it smelled awful. Never outgrew the braids she wore growing up. ” Memesu sighs. “…just understand she died afraid, in pain, and with things left undone. My sister didn’t even resemble herself at the end.”

Cenric is very still. Thinks carefully.

“…I wish it could have gone differently,” he says at last.

Memesu’s mouth slides up in a small, crooked smile. She tousles the neat, ear-length hair before her. “So do I.”

Eclipse - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

It ends at Elidibus’ untimely arrival.

“Lord Zodiark,” he says, so smoothly that were he not searching for it that the anger would be undetectable, “appreciates your attentions.”  His gaze does not waver from Lahabrea as he speaks. “But there is work to be done and I’m afraid there are words I would have with your Speaker.”

They disperse.

Nabriales, careful and curious, folds himself out of sight beyond the chamber then makes his way back to its edge.

Lahabrea, farthest from the exit, attempts to steal some small dignity. Turns to face Elidibus.

The Emissary makes him wait. Expressionless red masks matched by those who wear them.

Then, with more speed and force than typical for his demeanor, the Emissary closes distance to trap his colleague against the wall.

“It was my error,” hisses Elidibus, leaning in, “to have stayed silent upon rescuing you. A mistake I will remedy now, so we can be on no uncertain terms.”

Lahabrea lowers his eyes. Nabriales notes that despite the dread they all share of such reprimands, the man does not brace.

“You know as well as I that these words offer less succor to our Lord than action,” continues Elidibus, his fury quiet and no less sharp for that, “just as we both know your thoughtless action is the cause of repeated missteps these past centuries. Make no mistake—for all the strides you’ve made, your fixation and your impatience have cost the rest of us considerable time.”

Silence.

“Do you truly think this is your best service to Him?” asks Elidibus. “To us? Compromising your ability to fill the hours? Even Emet-Selch agrees these displays are disgraceful. You have ever borne them poorly, but being a 'paragon among paragons' naturally you continue ignoring your own better judgment with ours to continue this exercise in futility. Idiot.”

A twitch of the head. Almost a flinch.

It is one of few moments Nabriales has seen the Emissary express his anger so openly. Even after the Thirteenth fell to Igeyorhm’s error, Elidibus allowed the Angel of Truth to lead and voiced his own reproach with a more typical icy demeanor. Scathing though it was.

“I can be of use,” says Lahabrea softly. “Only three of us remain, and I—“

“You,” Elidibus snaps, “cannot follow the most simple instructions for the good of us all. Not for Him, not for Amaurot, not even for yourself. Your pride has made you not simply an embarrassment but a liability.”

Neither man speaks for several moments after that.

And then, at length, Elidibus exhales.

Says the Speaker’s name.

Receives his attention.

“What would you have me do?” the Emissary asks. His tone now is almost weary. “Clearly it would be unreasonable to trust you’d simply listen. Must I mind you like a child?” This is what breaks Lahabrea’s composure.

Knowing the man’s temper, Nabriales had expected him to lash out. Even on the back foot their orator is perfectly capable of defending himself from insults.

Instead, he embraces Elidibus fiercely—face just within the bounds of his pauldrons. Jaw locked shut firmly enough to hurt. Expression downcast.

Elidibus remains perfectly still at first. In the absence of conversation it is possible to hear the rush of Lahabrea’s breathing. Only through the nose, withheld briefly between each inhale as if that offers some means to steady himself.

As if that would make it better.

Tentatively, Elidibus holds him back. Lahabrea's fingers contract, and though he remains upright when his knees begin to give it is the Emissary who helps him kneel.

“Easy,” he murmurs, and Lahabrea removes one hand to run it reflexively over his face—coming against the mask.

Nabriales finds himself staring, searching. A puzzle with missing pieces whose image he may yet divine

“It was not,” says Lahabrea roughly, “my intention to…”

Elidibus reaches beneath the other man’s cowl, finds the hair and skin beneath. Draws him in once more.

Naught that would be shared with or among the Sundered. Nothing so personal as that.

Nabriales has worn his own share of flesh. Bedded lovers, adopted companions and families of vessels to fulfill a purpose. Passable enough, perhaps, but never for him. Not in truth.

It’s as if he looks upon two strangers.

Parched - A Final Fantasy XIV Fanfic

The door closes behind them. Lahabrea, projecting his preferred likeness over the host, waits on a couch within.

It’s admittedly a surreal sight. Ishgardian finery with its gilded edges, its elaborate wallpapers and marble floors. A collection of creams and blues and greens, fine furniture with velvet seat cushions. All ostentatious in the extreme… and then Lahabrea. Masked and cowled. Pouring three glasses of La Noscean arrack.

Elidibus freezes, and though none of them can see his eyes the confusion is clear enough.

“What is this?”

“Your turn,” says Emet-Selch, lightly but less flippant than he might have been.

Lahabrea proffers a cup from where he sits.

Elidibus neither moves nor speaks.

Emet-Selch approaches. Takes the drink. Presses it carefully into the other man’s hand.

“Don’t think,” he says smoothly,” that I won’t let you drop it.”

Mercifully, Elidibus has a good grip.

“Sit,” says Lahabrea, gesturing with his own glass to the sofa across from him.

Elidibus sits.

Emet-Selch sits.

Takes his own glass, perhaps a bit pointedly.

Elidibus’ mouth is pressed tight. It opens briefly, as if to speak. Shuts again.

“Explain,” the Emissary manages eventually.

Lahabrea meets his co-conspirator’s eye. Downs his arrack in a single attempt.

It is a long attempt.

It lasts several moments.

The other Ascians watch.

“Elidibus,” says Emet-Selch as Lahabrea endeavors to catch his breath in the aftermath, “Lahabrea and I are concerned that you may be experiencing some difficulties in recent years.”

“I’m fine,” replies Elidibus coldly. Holding his drink. “Why did you think this necessary?”

“Because—“ wheezes Lahabrea.

“Because you’re practically a mammet,” says Emet-Selch, picking up Lahabrea’s glass. Moving it just out of reach. “Truly. It’s been what, two hundred years? Three? Neither of us can remember the last time you so much as spoke of matters unrelated to the Rejoining.”

Lahabrea reaches. Elidibus pours his arrack into the other man’s glass before nudging it back toward him.

Elidibus makes eye contact with Emet-Selch.

“I remain focused,” he says evenly. “Nothing more.”

Emet-Selch gestures to the bottle.

Elidibus sighs.

Refills his own glass.

“There are matters I must attend myself. As is the case with each of you.”

“Undoubtedly,” replies Lahabrea more evenly. “But with few exceptions, you haven’t done so.”

A hard stare from behind the mask.

“What would you have me do? I can’t very well take time off.”

Emet-Selch sips.

“A negligible amount of time,” he says, “taken sparingly, may be forgivable.”

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

Lmao see this is a plus side/minus side deal. Minus side, it’s being asked just before I embark on a MASSIVE ASS FANFIC. And I basically am excited for all of it. Plus side, there are things I refuse to spoil.

So... putting it vaguely, in no particular order:

- Lahabrea and Hydaelyn meet a second time after Praetorium.

- Moonfire Faire

- Thancred

- Conversations over mulled wine

- Silvertear Lake

Some of these are sex scenes. Most aren’t. But I am very hyped.

[gstqaobc]

Hello, royal watchers and all those intrigued by what’s going on inside the House of Windsor. This is your biweekly dose of royal news and analysis.Reading this online?

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Janet Davison

Royal Expert

Was it really another 'annus horribilis' for the Queen?

(Richard Pohle/Getty Images)

As 2019 draws to a close, there has been much chatter about whether the year has been another “annus horribilis” for Queen Elizabeth.

Along with the sordid, ongoing saga around Prince Andrew’s friendship with convicted sex offender Jeffrey Epstein, the House of Windsor was buffeted by talk of potential rifts between Princes William and Harry and their wives.

Controversy also followed Harry and his wife, Meghan, over everything from privacy and secrecy to suggestions of hypocrisy when it comes to how environmentally friendly they might be. The Queen also found herself much closer to politics than usual as Brexit continued to convulse the U.K.

But does all that really rival 1992, when the Queen famously told a gathering marking her 40 years on the throne that it was an "annus horribilis?"

Maybe not.

“This past year has been challenging for the Royal Family, but on balance, its events haven't threatened the monarchy in the same way,” biographer Sally Bedell Smith, author of Elizabeth the Queen: The Life of a Modern Monarch, said via email.

In 1992, there was a litany of troubles. Andrew Morton’s book Diana: Her True Story “was devastating for Prince Charles — and by extension, his fitness as a future king,” said Smith, and Charles's separation from Diana was an “inevitable consequence.”

The marriages of his brother Andrew and sister Anne also imploded. And in November, fire devastated Windsor Castle, for which Elizabeth has a particular fondness.

That’s not to say, however, that 2019 didn’t have its troubles.

“The only parallel between 1992 and 2019 is Prince Andrew as a source of serious concern,” said Smith, with his involvement in the Epstein scandal staining his reputation.

“The Queen, backed by Prince Charles and Prince William, did the right thing by removing him from his public duties. He is now a ‘minor royal,’ well down the line of succession, so his departure from public life won't have as much impact as it would have in 1992, when he was preceded only by Charles, and his two young sons.”

The problems Andrew faces ”are pretty horrendous,” Ingrid Seward, editor-in-chief of Majesty magazine, said via email.

“It is very sad for the Queen to see her favourite son being ridiculed and in such an unsavoury mess. But he is 60 in February and there is not much the Queen can do about it. He has to get himself out of the mess with as little damage to the [institution] of the monarchy as possible.”

And then there is the controversy that swirled throughout the year around Harry and Meghan.

“The bumps in their life as a royal couple — their antagonism toward the press, the resentment of their tendency to act more like celebrities than members of the Royal Family, the accusations of hypocrisy when they failed to practise what they were preaching — will presumably smooth out in 2020,” said Smith.

As much as there was controversy this year, there were also moments of hope and optimism.

Seward sees several “high notes” to 2019, including the arrival of Harry and Meghan’s first child, Archie; the wedding of the Queen’s “favourite great niece” Gabriella Windsor; and several “successful” high-profile royal tours. “William and Kate proved over and over again how suitable they are to lead the monarchy into the future.”

Smith expects that “to the degree that William and Harry have had a rift in their relationship over the past year, it seems likely that, too, will smooth out in 2020.”

Smith said the Queen continues “to be fit mentally and physically and can be expected to carry out her duties as long as she is able.”

Looking further down the road, Smith considers what might come in 2022, when the Queen will have been on the throne for 70 years.

“If she continues as she is now, there could be an unprecedented Platinum Jubilee celebration in the offing.”

Prince Philip in hospital

(Steve Parsons/The Associated Press)

Prince Philip was taken to hospital in London today for treatment of a pre-existing condition.

Buckingham Palace said the Queen’s 98-year-old husband was taken from her Sandringham estate, where he spends much of his time, to King Edward VII Hospital as a “precautionary measure.”

It’s the second time Philip, who retired from public duties in 2017, has been in hospital around Christmas. In 2011, he missed the Royal Family’s festive celebrations as he recovered from a successful coronary stent procedure.

The Telegraph reported today that it was understood Philip had been under the weather

“for some time”

and had developed a cold recently. He was not taken to hospital by ambulance, and the admission Friday had been planned.

Philip has been in hospital a few times in recent years, including in 2018 for hip replacement surgery. In 2013, he had exploratory abdominal surgery. The previous year, he missed portions of the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee celebrations while he was treated for a bladder infection.

Philip was last seen in public in May, at the wedding of Gabriella Windsor.

While Philip was in hospital in London on Friday, the Queen was travelling in the other direction, taking the train to Norfolk to begin her Christmas break at Sandringham.

Keeping an eye on Christmas

(Paul Ellis/AFP via Getty Images)

It’s a simple walk to church, but one that draws significant attention as observers look for who’s there — and who isn’t.

This year, the countryside stroll to St. Mary Magdalene church at the Sandringham estate on Christmas Day won’t feature two of the more high-profile members of the Royal Family.

Harry and Meghan have been taking a break from royal duties, and are celebrating Christmas with Meghan’s mother elsewhere. Last year, amid ongoing reports of potential strife between Kate and Meghan, as well as between William and Harry, their walk together to church drew more attention than other years.

Curiosity will also surround whether Prince Philip will be seen. He was taken to hospital in London on Friday morning, Buckingham Palace said.

There may also be two additions to the Christmas morning stroll. Some reports suggest William and Kate’s two elder children, Prince George, six, and Princess Charlotte, four, will join the annual walk for the first time.

Royally quotable

"Why can’t they go home?"

—  Prince William recounts what George and Charlotte have said when they have seen homeless people. William made the comments

during a BBC Christmas specia

l, where he said he makes a point of discussing the struggles other people face as he drives the children to school.

Royals in Canada

(St. Felix Centre)

Brian Harris readily admits he “wasn’t really aware” of who Meghan Markle was when he met her about four years ago.

In her pre-royal days living in Toronto while working as an actor on the TV drama Suits, Meghan was dropping off turkeys for the Thanksgiving meal at the St. Felix Centre, a charity that offers support for homeless and vulnerable people.

But when Harris, the centre’s executive director, now sees a photo from her time volunteering at the centre, he remembers meeting her and recalls someone who was “very humble about the whole thing.”

“She tried to keep a pretty low profile because she wasn’t really trying to make it about herself.”

Things have gone very high-profile for the centre after Meghan and Harry featured it among 12 charities they highlighted on Instagram this month.

“She was just trying to do a good thing,” Harris said of Meghan’s time at the centre, “and so we were very impressed by that, and very appreciative of the fact that now that she has this much bigger platform, she’s still continuing to do good things.”

Harris said the royal recognition has enabled the organization to “reach a much wider audience” and it is “very flattered” to be included in the group of charities highlighted by Harry and Meghan.

“Their influence can’t be understated,” Harris said.

“They have such an enormous platform and such an enormous reach … depending on how deeply involved they get with a particular charity, it can be immensely life-altering for that organization.”

He said the centre’s next challenge, early in the new year, is seeing if Meghan might consider a return visit in 2020.

“We’ve been trying to plant that seed that if her and Harry, or even just her … happen to be back on this side of the pond any time soon, that we would love to have them pop by for a visit and see the impact of their activities over the last few months.”

Royal reads

1. Emily Maitlis, the BBC journalist who conducted the interview with Prince Andrew over his friendship with Epstein,

shares secrets

regarding that “hour of surreal television.” [The Guardian]

2. Camilla

shared the holiday spirit

with a group of seriously ill children as they helped decorate the Christmas tree at Clarence House. [The Telegraph]  

3. The latest season of The Crown has Queen Elizabeth hearing rumours that the prime minister of the day — Harold Wilson — was secretly a Soviet spy. Did MI5

really think that was the case

? [BBC]

4. Police surveillance files gathered

about a goddaughter of Queen Victoria

will go on display next year as part of a display looking at the history of the fight for women’s rights. [The Guardian]

A festive note: The Royal Fascinator will take a break over Christmas and return to your inboxes on Jan. 10. Have a happy holiday.

Cheers!

I’m always happy to hear from you. Send your ideas, comments, feedback and notes to

royalfascinator@cbc.ca

. Problems with the newsletter? Please let me know about any typos, errors or glitches.

[chelleaslin]

Adrigami Week Day 4- Miraculous (Chapter Four)

@mlshipfleet 

Adrien and Kagami sat across from one another at the restaurant table. Both teenagers in complete and utter shock but for two seperate reasons.

Adrien was panicking as Kagami’s word rang through his head on repeat. “I know you’re Chatnoir.” A million and one questions started to form in his mind. How did she know? How long has she known? Has she told anyone? What would Ladybug think? At the last thought He groaned, slamming his head down onto the table, his salad plate clattering loudly. Ladybug was going to be so disappointed in him.

Kagami, on the other hand was in complete shock over the thought that Adrien thought she was going to kiss him! Not only that but he was more than ready to kiss her back. His face flashed through her mind once again, green eyes cover by his eyelids, long lashes resting delicately against his cheekbones and his soft lips puckered perfectly ready for Kagami to lean forward a tad more and- argh! She was day dreaming again. Why? Why would Adrien do this? They had quite literally just shook hands on their new friendship after he rejected her. She needed answers, she was new to these type of emotions and Adrien had no right to play around with them and confuse her more.

She straighten up and look across the table toward the blonde, ready to be stern and get answer out of him but found herself stunned instead. She had looked up just in time to see the blonde boy smash his face down into the table, his dishes clattering loudly making her jump. She quickly looked around to see if anyone notice, many other customers had started to stare.

“Adrien?” She called out softly, he didn’t even budge. She looked around and noticed more and more people were staring. A light chatter of whispers started to fill the room, Kagami couldn’t make out what they were saying, untill suddenly it seem like everyone was whispering the name Adrien Agreste over and over again.

“Adrien!” She hissed in a panic, not liking the attention they were getting because of the scene he was making. She glanced around again and noticed that people had pulled they’re phones out now and started taking pictures and quite possibly recording the pair. She had to do something.

Standing up sharply, she grabbed Adrien’s wrist and roughly pulled him to his feet.

The blond boy yelped as he stumbled, glaring at her once he regained his balance. He opened his mouth, most likely to complain but Kagami begaim tp ran towards The exist, pulling him along behind her. He stumbled at first before he regain his footing once again and jogged beside her. The pair ran down the road, turning right and running untill they enter a park.

It was late into the evening, the sky starting to get dark. The park was covered in trees that casted dark shadows and the civilians were few, giving them privacy.

“Why did you do that?” Adrien panted out, crossing his arms over his heaving chest.

“You were attracting attention.” Kagami simply explained, out of breath herself. “They started to film us.”

Adrien’s eyes widen briefly before he nodded. “Thanks.”

It was silent between them as they caught their breaths. This was Kagami’s chance to ask him.

“Did you try to kiss me?” She blurted out. The poor boy across from her had only got his breath back but her question made him choke. He stammered a little before avoiding eye contact.

“What?” He yelled, eyes widen in panic. “We have more important things to discuss like the Chatnoir thing.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“No!” He snapped. “Well, yes,but only because I thought you were going to kiss me not go ahead and say something like THAT. Speaking off, can we talk about it?” He repeated.

“But why were you going to kiss me?” She snapped, ignoring his attempts to get information out of her. She refused to even adknowlage her confession about his alter ego until he answered her questions.

He groaned out in frustration, tugging on the ends of his hair a little before violently rubbing his finger through his blonde lock. He threw in arms roughly at his side, finely locking her in the eyes.

“I don’t know why I did that, Okay? I’m sorry but I love someone else!” He yelled a little, the small spark of hope that beatied in her heart suddenly died out. It was her turn to avoid eye contact with the other teenager. “Look, I’m sorry but-“

“I saw you.”She quickly cut him off ”at the ice rink, I saw a light then you were him.” She finally gave him the information he craved, she just wanted the topic to change and quickly.

“Oh.” He numbly said, awkwardly picking at the loose threads. “Ladybug’s going to kill me.” He groaned out, before pooping his bum onto the grass beneath his feet. He looked up at her expectantly before patting the grass next to him as an invitation to sit down. Kagami, blinked in surprise before gracefully sitting down where she stood, a good half a meter away from Adrien. If he noticed the gap between them he was kind enough to to mention it.

“It’s called a transformation.” He started, as he fiddle with his silver sing on his finger. “I transform in to Chatnoir, but I’m still me, Adrien.”

Kagami nodded, all her previous relationship worry gone as she realised Adrien was actually going to explain Chatnoir to her.

“How does it work? The light only lasted a few second, how do you get dressed that fast? And what causes your cataclysm?” She quickly fired question after question.

Adrien’s eyes widen, slightly overwhelmed by her rapid question before a goofy grin over took his facial features. All the previous tension between them seemed to disappear as a lighter mood set in instead.

“It’s Magic!” He laughed, Kagami’s face must have shown her disbelief because he quickly jumped to explain. He held his hand up and pointed to the ring on his finger.

“This is a Miraculous. A Miraculous is a magic piece of jewellery that grants it wielded specific powers. My ring is the black cat Miraculous and it grants me the powers of destruction.” Kagamis eyes widen as she stared at the ring in awe.

“How does it work?”

“Well, I say magic words to transform and Plagg gets kind sucked into my ring and then-“

“Plagg?”

Adrien seemed shocked by her confusion before he slapped himself in the forehead.

“Shit. I didn’t tell you about Plagg.”

Kagami was about to question him when suddenly she noticed something violently crawling under his clothes. She frantically pointed at his jacket as the lump crawled beneath it.

“Adrien!” She yelp as the model smirk, completely unfazed.

Suddenly the lump moved towards the opening of his over shirt untill a black blobbed appear and zoomed straight towards her face. Kagami screamed a little as she fell backwards, landing softly on her back.

“Hi, I’m Plagg!” The blob annouced in a scratchy voice. Kagami went a little cross eyed as she focused in on the blob, right of the bat she noticed the blob was not a blob but rather a creature with a head and body.

“You’re a cat?” She whispered, more to herself than the kitten?

“Kwami actually.” He scoffed crossing his little arms in annoyance. Kagami quickly sat back up and opened her palms for the small feline to sit in.

“What’s a kwami?” She asked curiously.

Plagg sighed over dramatically, rolling his eyes.

“A Kwami is basically a god that grants powers to humans to become superhero’s.” Plagg looked over his shoulder at Adrien.

“So, you give Adrien powers? What about his ring?” She couldn’t wrap her head around this, she hadn’t even known Magic existed until recently.

“Oh, boy.” Plagg whispered under his breath. “Kid, you explain this one. I’m tired.” And with that the tiny cat curled up in Adrien’s front pocket, his tiny purrs soon being heard by the two teenagers.

“Basically, each Magic jewellery come with a small god that grant us powers. We actively our power by saying magic words and our Kwami’s possess the jewllrey and share their powers with us.”

Kagami nodded, finally understanding a little.

“What are the magic words?” Adrien looked uncomfortable as he started to fidget.

“Oh don’t worry, I get it. You can’t reveal too much I understand.” She smiled trying to reassure the boy that she wouldn’t hold a grudge.

“No, it’s not that, I’ve already reveal to much anyway. It’s just that I can’t say the words without physically activation my powers.” He laughed.

“Oh.” She laughed along with him. It went silent for a few minutes, the only sounds heard were Plagg tiny purrs.

“Have you told anyone about me?” Adrien suddenly asks. Kagamis brain went into panic mood untill she realised he meant about being Chatnoir not her feelings.

“Well it’s a secret identity isn’t it?” She jokes but Adrien face was dead serious. “No I haven’t, I won’t.”

He let out a sigh of relief before giving her a small smile that made her stomach flip.

“Does anyone else know?”

“No! Of course not, your the first.”

Kagami smiled at him, “except Ladybug of course.” She smirked as she laid back on the grass, closing he eyes.

“No actually, we don’t know who eachother are.” He sadly said, this shock Kagami to the core. Paris’ superhero due didn’t even know eachother true identities ? “I know shocking right?” He bitterly laughed, a sad smile ghosted his face.

“You love her don’t you?” She whispered in relisation, not intending on him hearing it but it was too late.

The teenage boy started to blush furiously as he laughed nervous and tried to play it off.

“What? No! Ladybug nah uh.”

Kagami just gave him a pointed look, making the young man feel rather sheepish.

“Yeah, I do.” He whispered avoiding eye contact, Kagami couldn’t tell if it was out of embarrassment or guilt.

“So what made you want to become a superhero?” She asked, changed the subject as she looked up at Adrien who was still sitting up.

“I didn’t, I was choosen when Hawkmoths terrorisim started.” He explained as he careful held Plagg sleeping form still as he laid down next to Kagami. The girl squirmed a little at his close approximity.

“Does he have a Miraculous too?”

“Yeah, the Butterfly Miraculous.”

She just hummed as she closed her eyes.

“It’s a big responsibility but at the same time, their is a certain freedom that comes with it that I can’t explain.” He sighed as he stared up at the night sky.

“Freedom?” She frowned. The way he said that, his voice so hallow, it made her stomach wrench.

“I-“ he started, struggle to find a way to explain himself, “I always feel alone, since my Mother Di- left.”

Kagami rolled onto her stomach to look at the boy more clearly.

“She was my best friend and since she left my father hasn’t been the same. I feel alone and miserable all the time. Even when I’m at school surrounded by my friends, I’m just a empty shell of what everyone expects of me...”

Kagamis small hand found his and gave it a tight squeeze, not caring about the feelings it gave her when he squeezed back, but that she was able to be here for him.

“But when I’m Chatnoir, I can leave that all behind! Adrien Agreste? Who’s that, just another civilian. I’m important as Chat, I make a difference and I’m not alone I have Ladybug..” he softly smiled, it was the same kind of fond smile he used when talking about Marinette when they first meet. Kagami had learnt a few new things about Adrien just now.

He was more broken then he’d ever let anyone know

He and Kagami were incredibly alike

He was definitely in love with Ladybug

The last thought was bitter sweet to Kagami, she was relieved that he wasn’t in love with Marinette because Marinette was lovely! She was kindhearted, thoughtful and sweet. Kagami had a bitter scene that constantly haunted her of Marinette being the klutz she is, tripping over only for Adrien to come to her rescue, and them foolishly falling for one another.

Kagami shook her head, this was not the time to think such jealous thoughts. Adrien poor his heart out and he needs a friends right now.

“I think I know how you feel.” She found herself whispering, crossing her legs as Adrien rolled on his side to see her better. “My family, The Tsuguri’s, they are perfect and have been perfect for generations, they do it so effortlessly.” She frowned. Adrien squeezed her hand that she only just realised he was still holding. “I’ve never been up to par for my family, expecially my Mother.” Kagami subconscious rubbed her forearm with her other hand, where she knew cane shaped bruises were.

“Is something wrong with your arm?” Adrien asked, concern written on his face. Kagami gave him a big (fake) smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You’re lucky.” She honestly confessed. “To be able to say some magic words and become someone else, someone no one knows, free to run over the roof tops of the city whenever you want.” She smiled as she laid back down. “To be a hero and make a difference in Paris, Thank you Adrien for being our hero.” She turned her head toward towards Adrien to see a pink blush on his cheeks, their hands still interwined.

“You could too, you know.” He said, he suddenly got up, pulling Kagami with him.

“How?” She asked nervously.

“I’m not supposed to do this so quickly, while Plaggs still asleep.” Kagami’s eyes widen as he slipped his ring off his finger and placed it on one of her fingers, on hand in he was still holding. The ring was a little big for her but after a few seconds it’s glowed bright green before shrinking to her size. She was lost for words at the intimacy of the situation and the blind trust Adrien had in her.

“Now say, Plagg, Claws out.” He squeezed her hands quickly before he let go and took a couple steps back. Kagami looked around her to make sure no one was looking before talking a deep breath.

“Plagg, Claws out!” Plagg screamed awake as he was violently ripped from Adriens pocket and sucked into the ring on her finger that had now turned black. Time seemed to freeze around her as she watched Adrien stand still in front of her, unblinking. A bright green light engulfed her body as she felt a mask form around her eyes. Her clothes formed into a leather suit, a small bell forming on her neck and a tailed belt from her waist. Her normally tamed hair was wildly sticking up in every direction and atop of them the weight of two, small, leather cat ears.

The light faded, leaving her fully transformed as time resumed.

“Wow.” Adrien whispered, a light blush coving his cheeks. “I didn’t expect you to wear my suit.” His eyes roamed over her body in awe of seeing his suit on another person, Kagami felt super awkward and a tad uncomfortable at his gawking, the suit was very tight and she felt over exposed.

“Well, try it out.” He laughed as he geastured to the once dark park around them. Kagami looked around in pure bewilderment, she could see everything clearly.

“I can see, nothing dark anymore.” She whispered in shock. Adrien started to giggle loudly.

“It’s one of the powers Plagg gives you, cat like night vision.” He explained.

Kagami noticed a partically tall tree about 100 metres ahead of them, see had a overwhelming urge to climb it. Without any warning to the other teen she took of towards the tree. A gasp of shock fell from you lips as if on instinct she dropped to all fours and sprinted like an animal. When she reached the tree she jumped in the air, leaping to a low hanging branch and using it to catapult herself further and further up the tree untill she reached the top.

Her chest tightened as she panted, crouch over on the thickest branched closest to the top. Her now catlike eyes wide as a feral smile sat on her lips, she had never felt so alive, so free, as she did in this moment. If you saw her right now you wouldn’t even recognise her.

“Eat your heart out Mother” she laughed under her breath. She was surprised when her new leather cat ears twitched as she picked up sound she shouldn’t be able to hear normally. She heard the sound of an owl as if flew off into the distance, the sound of a women talking on her cell phone as she walked across the street and finally she heard shuffling underneath the tree. Glancing down, Kagami (Katgami?), saw a head of blonde hair running towards the tree. She smirked to her self before diving off the tree and landing on all fours at the bottom of the tree, scaring Adrien successfully. The teen boy yelled a little as he skidded to a stop, jumping back in surprise. His shock soon disappeared when he realised it was just Kagami.

“This is amazing, Adrien!” She cheered as she through her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. “Thank you.” She breathed, her breath warm against his neck. He froze up, his heart beating rapidly as he fought to keep a blush away.

“Why are you Thanking me? You haven’t experienced nothing yet.” He said his arms sliding down her back. She froze up, slightly freaking out about how low his hands would go. He stopped them on her lower back where Chatnoir iconic baton sat, he unclipped it and stood back.

“Trees are fun, but wait till you leap over buildings.” He pressed the cat paw print button, extending the baton as he passed it to her. A wide grin pulled at her lips, the feral catlike smile appearing once again. She snatched the baton from his out stretch hand before she turned away from him and starting to jog towards a block of buildings.

“I’ll be back in a meow-meant” She called out over her shoulder before extending her baton and catapulting herself through the sky.

Adrien covered his heavily blushed face in his hands and his heart and stomach betrayed him.

“Oh no.”

[artificialqueens]

Together We Make Three Part 2 (AAA Girls) - Albatross

AN: Finally got the second part finished! Hope you all like it. Honestly, if it weren’t for hearing you guys say you wanted something with the AAA Girls I’m not sure this second half ever would have gotten written.

The shows went on as planned and while Alaska struggled at first to find a sense of normalcy with the others, she eventually managed to settle back into her familiar, comfortable relationship with them. Neither Courtney or Willam officially confirmed what the exact nature of their relationship was to her, but she felt confident she had a good idea of what was going on behind closed doors with them. Or at least what would be going had they not been on tour. The constant traveling from venue to venue provided little opportunity for true privacy for the girls. Beyond the cramped tour bus during the day, the girls were sharing rooms at night in an effort to cut down on excessive hotel costs. To their credit, Courtney and Willam did keep up appearances by following a rotation of who would share a bed with who when a single room was booked but once inside Alaska still noticed little things that the rest of the crew was unlikely to ever see. Whenever the two were set to share a bed, unfailingly in the morning Alaska would find them curled around each other in such a tight embrace they could have fit into a twin-sized bed without any lack of space. On the nights where she was sleeping with one of them, the two would always face each other on the parallel mattresses and talk until they fell asleep. It was cute, Alaska had to admit, but that did nothing to dull the pain in her chest when she saw them lost in their own world. That’s not to say they actively excluded her from anything but still…she couldn’t help but feel a bit like an outsider looking in on something she would never be a part of.

The most recent leg of their tour had brought the girls overseas for a short European stint before returning them back home for their final two weeks of shows. Tonight was unusual from the rest of their run in that they did not have any gigs scheduled for that day or tomorrow. Sure there had been an interview earlier when they first arrived in the city and a quick meet and greet set up for the next day, but the rest of the time was theirs and they were able to fully enjoy the area for once.

For tonight’s hotel arrangement, Courtney was set to have the queen sized bed all to herself while Willam and Alaska shared the king. Unsurprisingly, Courtney was eating a late night snack in bed and chatting with Willam as he laid on his stomach and lazily flipped through the channels for anything decent to watch. Alaska herself was taking advantage of the short reprieve from traveling and was carefully cleaning her makeup supplies. As each piece appeared clean and ready for a fresh use, she placed it back in its designated spot in her makeup tote. Once everything was reorganized and in its proper location, she set the tote on the ground in front of the bedside nightstand and relaxed back against the headboard. Between the skipping sentences on the TV and the other girls’ rapid conversation, Alaska noticed that one of the phones charging on the nearby outlet was vibrating. Leaning over from her reclined position, she elbowed Willam lightly in the ribs and informed him, “Phone’s buzzing.”

Almost immediately, he sat up and scrambled over to check his phone on their shared nightstand. To Alaska’s utter indignation, that seemed to mean him practically sitting in her lap as he refused to disconnect the phone from the power cord before reviewing the text. He seemed completely unaware of her discomfort as he balanced himself over her leg and scrolled through his cell before finally announcing, “Nothing important,” and placing the phone back in its original position.

“What’s wrong?” he asked when he finally took notice of the younger queen’s expression.

Alaska stared hard at him but when he gave no indication of even registering why his place in her lap should be awkward, she gave an exasperated sigh. “Notice something off with this…position?” she asked sardonically as she motioned between their two bodies with her hand. Blankly, Willam stared down at where he was currently sitting before the realization finally caught up with him. With a smirk, he repositioned his legs to properly straddle her hips on either side and lifted her chin up gently. “Yeah…you should be on top,” was his smooth reply. Her face was burning bright as he lowered his lips down to ghost over hers and said softly, “We can fix that…”

Before Alaska could even muster the brainpower to begin thinking of a response, she found their positions reversed and her body was now precariously leveraged just inches above the sandy blonde’s. As she stared down at the smaller queen beneath her, she felt him press a faint kiss to her lips and guide her hand down to rest on his waist. Her heart was pounding as she tested the waters by slowly slipping her fingers beneath the fabic of his tank top to trace hesitantly over his warm skin. Willam bit his lower lip briefly at the contact and Alaska could hear his breathing getting heavier as she timidly ran her fingertips along the hem of his sweatpants. His reactions to the simplest touch took her breath away and all she wanted to do was draw out every little noise or moan that could possibly be contained in his body. She wanted to hear him pleading for more as he was reduced putty in her hands. She wanted to see him completely lose his composure as she pushes her way inside him, bringing him to edge and back, over and over again until he’s just about ready to go insane…She wants them to have what he and Courtney have…

Oh, fuck…Courtney.

The thought of the other queen had her frozen in place. What was she doing? Was she really making a move on one of her best friends?

An internal war was brewing inside Alaska’s head and clouding her thoughts to everything around her. But like a light shining through the clouds; Willam’s hand on her face drew her attention back to something clear she could focus on. He delicately brushed away her bangs so that he could look her square in the eye and whispered compliantly, “You can do whatever you want…”

A lump quickly formed in her throat at his words and she clumsily scrambled to sit herself upright. This was too much! How did she allow herself to get caught in this fucked up mess? She could feel her eyes starting to sting as she clutched her hands to her chest in a useless effort to slow down her racing heart. The entire situation was quickly becoming an overwhelming sea of emotion that threatened to drown her any second. Then like a perfectly timed life-saver being thrown around her; she felt a comforting hand placed on her upper arm. Alaska’s head guiltly snapped up to see Courtney standing beside her with an affectionate smile. “She means it you know…” Courtney said softly, “…do you want to?”

Alaska stared dumbfounded at the blonde and then down to Willam who seemed to be holding his breath as he awaited her response. Her lip was trembling as she admitted, “Y-Yes…”

Willam quietly released a relieved sigh and Courtney’s smile grew just a tad wider as she asked gently, “What do you want to do first?”

The question hit Alaska like a bucket of cold water. Her immediate thought was ‘Everything! Anything!’ but she found she couldn’t vocalize a single, precise action. She felt like a deer caught in headlights and could barely manage a stuttered, “I-I don’t know…”

“Why don’t you start with a kiss and see where that goes?” Courtney encouraged.

Alaska nodded absently as Willam sat himself upright again and leaned in towards Alaska. He tenderly turned her face back to his and asked, “Is this alright?”

“Yeah,” Alaska said breathlessly as Willam’s thumb ran over her cheek. His smile was the last thing she saw before their lips connected in a delicate dance and her eyes slid shut. It was hard to describe exactly how the kiss felt. On one hand Willam was so careful with her; careful not to push her too fast, careful when cupping her face, careful even when climbing back into her lap. On the other, there was so much passion lurking behind each touch. The same electricity from before was still present in everything Willam did. As Alaska became more relaxed and pulled Willam in closer, he saw that as an approval to lose himself in the kiss. It was only after air became an issue that he allowed himself to be detached from her in any way.

There was just enough time for Alaska to catch her breath before she felt Courtney tilting her chin up to capture her lips herself. The kiss was brief but served its purpose. As Courtney pulled away, Alaska could feel her cheeks heating up once more and stared at her in astonishment. “You too?” she asked in complete shock.

“Look who finally got it,” Courtney laughed.

“About time,” Willam muttered as he placed random kisses up and down Alaska’s neck.

“How long have you…?” It was hard to thinking with Willam’s lips roaming over her skin but she had to ask.

“Quite awhile now…almost as long as Willam honestly…” she admitted with a sheepish grin.

Alaska glanced down at Willam for more information but he was not so subtly avoiding her look and focused instead on leaving a trail of kisses from her jugular up to the sensitive skin just below her ear. “Why don’t we save the Q and A for later, huh?” he offered between rough licks and soft nips over her weak spot. She let out an affirmatory noise as she tightened her grip on his waist and thrust her hips ever so slightly to get just a tiny bit of release. Her lower lip was caught in her teeth to muffle a small whine as she felt her skin being worked into a bitch of a bruise.

“Hey, don’t hide it…I want to hear you…” Courtney chided as she gazed deep into her glazed over eyes.

Her head felt like it was spinning out of control and the best she could manage was a weak nod, not trusting herself to form a proper sentence. She needed more friction, more contact, more anything.

“P-Please Court…” she whispered hoarsely.

Quickly the blonde’s lips covered hers in a passionate, needy kiss. Unlike Willam, who border lined on romantic during their lip lock; Courtney did not hold anything back. She was greedy and possessive in claiming Alaska’s mouth and something about that in contrast to her earlier actions just made the situation so much more intense. Usually Alaska would tower over other girls and almost felt a sort of power in that but tonight Willam and Courtney were the ones in control of her and the submissive position of being trapped between the two queens offered an entirely new level of excitement.

As Courtney kept her mouth occupied, Alaska began slipping her fingers around the waistband of Willam’s pants. He was now freely grinding against her but seemed to have no inclination to assist in removing his clothes. Alaska groaned in frustration and broke the kiss in order to focus on removing the offending fabric. She had barely worked it down an inch before Courtney’s hand on her wrist stopped both of the queens’ movements. “Tonight’s gonna be all about you,” she told Alaska, “I’ll take care of getting her ready, okay?”

Her mouth went dry as she gave a small nod and released the hem of the pants from her grip. She watched with wide eyes as Courtney whispered to Willam to strip while she searched for condoms and lube in his suitcase. To Alaska’s surprise, he immediately slipped off the bed to comply with Courtney’s directions without so much as a sarcastic noise or eye roll. Though he didn’t make any particular show of removing his clothes, for Alaska it still felt like she was watching her own private strip tease. Willam seemed to sense her eyes on him and glanced back at her with a flirty smirk. “See something you like?” he teased as he sauntered back in front of Alaska.

“Y-Yeah,” she choked out. She hated how needy and desperate her voice sounded but it was hard not to feel weak around that near perfect body. His skin was perfectly tanned and his muscles were toned just the right amount. He looked like he was made to be admired in bed.

“You know, this usually works a lot better when everyone loses their clothes,” he reminded her as he hovered over her and gently ran his fingers through her hair. Feeling just a bit more bold, Alaska replied back, “You gonna help me then or are you all talk?”

Sliding her shirt over her head, Willam shot back with a smirk, “Well, I am known for running my mouth…”

“And for offering it…” Courtney muttered with an eye roll as she finally found the supplies she’d been searching for. Her comment was left either unheard or ignored as the other queens reconnected their lips and worked on separating Alaska from her remaining clothing. The task was delayed as Willam insisted on crowding Alaska back into the mattress and climbing over top of her. The two seemed to devolve back into horny teenagers with their frenzied clutching at each other’s bodies trying leave as little space as possible between their bare skin. Alaska’s hand found its way to Willam’s hair and entangled itself tightly in his curls while her other slipped into the small of his back and kept him flush against her. As for Willam, he at least attempted to help work the last few clothes off her body but his fingers kept taking detours to trace over every inch of skin they could reach.

Courtney watched them going at it with an amused smile for a minute or so before she made her way back to the side of the bed and licked a light trail from Willam’s tailbone up to Alaska’s hand. He shuddered at the sensation and drew back from Alaska’s mouth just enough to take in a sharp gasp. “Fuck, Court! A little warning next time!”

“What’s the fun in that? It’s not often I get to catch you by surprise,” she replied back with a smirk. “Besides, I thought we ought to get this show moving along, if that’s alright with the both of you.”

Both Willam and Courtney glanced towards Alaska and waited for her response. Though it was plain to see they both were eager, it was still unexplored territory to include a third person, much less someone they genuinely cared for. The last thing either of them wanted to do was make her of all people feel uncomfortable or forced to participate in something that didn’t feel 100% right. Alaska didn’t need them to verbalize those thoughts; it was written clearly on their faces as they patiently stared down at her. Her heart felt warm and light as she told them firmly, “Yes.”

Courtney leaned past Willam to press a quick kiss to her lips and said, “If you change your mind at any point, just say the word and we’ll stop.”

“No questions asked,” Willam reiterated.

Alaska smiled up brightly at them and gave Courtney another small peck before she drew back. “Can you lift up your hips a little?” she asked as she lightly tapped on Alaska’s outer thigh. Immediately, her hips were in the air and the other girl wasted no time in stripping off her pants and underwear. Courtney let out an appreciative murmur as she ran a finger along Alaska’s exposed length and mused, “Mm…Bill’s gonna love having this inside her…” before beginning to coat her fingers in lube.

Alaska did her best to suppress a shiver at the statement but nothing could be done to hide her flushed cheeks. Willam took notice and pressed his smirk to Alaska’s ear and whispered, “You know I will…I can’t wait to feel every inch of you sliding into me…taking me so hard I’ll be bruised into next week…Bet you’ll make me scream too. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Screaming your name so loud the whole damn city hears…maybe someone’ll even ask during the meet and greet. They’ll beg to know who was topping me so hard I can’t even sit without flinching..and when they hear it’s you? God, they’ll fucking lose their shit…It’ll be on everyone’s lips before the camera’s flash goes off.”

Alaska’s breath hitched and knew she must be as red as a cherry. It certainly didn’t help when Courtney scolded him mildly, “Don’t tease her, you cunt.”

“Why not? She looks so cute with that blush.” To accentuate her point, Willam traced her fingers over Alaska’s cheek, her signature smirk growing wider as the hue darkened. “I’d love to how deep that goes-”

Anything Willam might have followed up with was cut off as Courtney applied a steady pressure of her finger against Willam’s hole and slowly pushed her way in. Knowing her game, Willam glared back at her with a silent command to move faster. Courtney of course ignored the demand and taunted her, “Since you enjoy teasing so much, I thought I’d repay the favor.”

“Bitch,” he quipped back doing his best to hide the waver in his voice as she added a second finger but maintained the snail-like pace.

“Play nice and so will I,” Courtney warned.

“Fine,” Willam muttered through gritted teeth as he rested his head against Alaska’s shoulder. Automatically she found herself running her hand in soothing circles across his lower back as he grew used to the scissoring motion inside of him. She could feel the sweat beading on his forehead as he took in deep, precise breaths to convince his muscles to relax. Slowly his body melted into hers and if she focused hard enough she could hear little whines and mewls catching themselves in his throat.

Courtney caught her eye as she pulled out for another coating of lube and darted her gaze meaningfully towards Willam. “She trying to hide them?” she asked knowingly.

“Mh-mm,” Alaska replied with a smirk.

Rolling her eyes, Courtney told her, “She always does that…but I know how to work them out of her.”

“Shut up!” Willam called out, partially muffled by his lips skimming across Alaska’s skin. “I’m right here, you know!”

“Then you know we want to hear you,” Courtney shot back in a sickeningly sweet voice as she teased Willam’s entrance once more.

“No,” he said firmly.

Joining in on the fun, Alaska told him in the same mocking tone he used earlier, “But you sound so cute…”

He pulled back to glare at her but the instant he opened his mouth all that escaped was a desperate whine as Courtney slid three fingers inside him and went back to work opening him up. As their eyes connected, Alaska saw the fight draining out of him until all that remained was a hazy lust-filled look that was further accentuated by the shallow intakes of air he took. Taking advantage of the momentary silence, Alaska leant close to his ear and taunted him by asking, “No response? I expected more from you…”

Clutching at her shoulders in an effort to retain some control over himself, he gasped, “Fuck…all the way off. Just wait till she’s doing this to you.”

She almost shuddered at the thought but right now the way Willam was trying his damnedest not to lose it held the majority of her attention. For each thrust inside him, his mouth parted just a little wider with every gasp until nothing could be done to muffle his breathy calls of their names. Courtney kept her pace until he was eagerly rocking his hips back into her and sweat dripped across his skin as he struggled to keep himself from coming apart completely under her touch. Taking the cue, Courtney withdrew and tossed the condom wrapper and lube next to Alaska for whenever they felt ready to continue.

Carefully pushing both herself and Willam into a seated position, Alaska placed her hand over the condom and asked if he was ready. Willam nodded his head feverishly and practically snatched the wrapper from beneath her fingers as he crashed his lips back to hers for a minute. She could feel the need emanating from every pore of his body as he took charge of rolling the condom down her length and applied a final layer of lube.

Positioning himself over her member, he slowly slid himself down until their hips were flush against each other. Alaska watched his face contort in pleasure as each inch disappeared inside him and was left a shaky, trembling mess in her lap. It was hard to tell if he was even looking at anything properly as his eyes glazed over and his grip on her shoulder became tight enough she was sure she’d see bruising tomorrow. He buried his head into the crook of her neck and placed a distracted kiss to her skin. Alaska could feel the heat of his breath as he begged, “Please…please, 'Laska. Move.”

She faltered, concerned about hurting him by moving so soon, but complied as Courtney gave her a nod of affirmation. Very carefully, she wrapped her hands around his hips and gave a shallow thrust. When he seemed to be alright with the action, she slowly built momentum and soon found him joining in the motion. It only took a short amount of time before his thighs began shaking and he was gasping her name into her ear. Nothing could persuade him to loosen his grip on Alaska’s shoulders as he overtook the taller queen and set to work creating a faster pace. They were nearly in time with one another but the position made it difficult for them to fully compliment each other’s movements. As Willam whispered out that he was getting closer, Alaska decided to remedy the situation and take back control for herself.

She steadied Willam’s hips, ignoring his confused and resistant behavior as she slipped from inside him and whispered a forceful command to lay on his back. To her mild shock, he quickly got into position without a word, almost in the same manner as a puppy eager to please it’s owner. Making a note to herself to question that aspect later, Alaska recaptured his lips, swallowing back the moans he released as she re-entered him. She wrapped his legs around her and soon set a punishing pace to leave him a writhing mess beneath her. His neck was arching with every graze against his prostate and Alaska took advantage of that as a chance to mark his skin much in the same manner as he had done to her. Her nails dug into his hips but he didn’t seem to notice or care as he wrapped a hand around his cock and pumped in sync with her thrusts.

All too soon he was cumming over his hand and stomach, crying out her name so loud it’d be a wonder if no one else in the hall had heard them. Alaska made sure to draw out his orgasm as much as possible until his moans died out into fading whimpers and slowly withdrew from him, discarding the condom off to the side as he worked to get his breathing under control. His hair looked like a beautiful tangled mess of curls splayed out against the bedding and his eyes held a dazed look as a content grin spread across his face. He was still panting as he pulled Alaska in for a sloppy kiss before shifting his gaze to the other bed where Courtney sat watching with keen interest.

“Quite a show you two put on,” she complimented as she made her way to the edge of the other bed and captured Willam’s lips for brief peck.

“Jealous?” Willam mocked, complete with an over the top Australian accent to match Courtney’s.

Rolling her eyes, Courtney smirked and placed her mouth over Alaska’s for a domineering lip lock that left her almost as breathless as Willam had been. “I think you and I could do better,” she cooed into Alaska’s ear. Running a hand over Alaska’s thigh, she asked, “What do you say?”

Alaska found herself nodding rapidly before a proper thought even formed in her head and begun to move back from Willam. “Stay,” Courtney commanded in a tone Alaska could hardly believe came from the same person.

“Ooh, front row seats,” Willam smirked, send a quick wink to Alaska. Tracing his fingers across her cheek, he murmured, “You’re gonna look so beautiful when you’re wrecked.”

Alaska was at a loss for words, mouth hanging slightly open as she tried to think of anything to say back. Failing to find any sort of response, she simply crashed her lips against Willam’s and waited as she heard Courtney stripping off her clothes beside them. Only a short time passed before she felt the bed shifting with additional weight and Courtney’s hand was tracing across her lower back. “Ready?” she asked softly.

“Please,” she gasped out.

Alaska swore she could almost hear Courtney smiling as she flipped open the tube of lubricant once more and spread a generous coating over her fingers. “Hands and knees,” she whispered.

Quickly complying to the demand, Alaska found herself in almost the same position as the one that had started the whole adventure. Almost hesitantly, she found Courtney pressing the first finger outside her entrance and slowly slipping inside her. Once she had stopped, Alaska released a deep breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in and leant down to kiss Willam as Courtney began moving inside her. It all felt so routine as Courtney added in a second finger that Alaska hardly noticed a difference until the third finger was pressed outside her hole. The moment it was inside and Courtney resumed her stretching motion, Alaska felt like her body was slowly being consumed by a raging bonfire.

Her vision seemed to blur as pleasure overtook her senses and just vaguely she felt Willam’s fingers gliding across her chest. “Knows what she’s doing, huh?” he asked with a slight laugh in his voice.

“Yeah,” she gasped out.

Unlike Willam, she had no problem letting any noise escape past her lips and it certainly had its affect on Courtney. If anything, she encouraged Alaska to be louder with each skillful brush against her walls. She felt like she was barely holding it together when she felt Willam’s mouth over hers once again. Grateful for the distraction, she allowed herself to become lost in the kiss as Courtney seemed intent on drawing out her preparation. By the time the older queen seemed content with her work and pulled her fingers out; Alaska felt like a hot mess, whining audibly at the loss, completely disregarding how desperate she must look.

“Calm down,” the Aussie teased as opened her own condom wrapper, “Gonna take care of you in just a minute.”

Willam turned Alaska’s face back to hers and promised, “Totally worth the wait, trust me.”

Alaska nodded her head absently and took in a short gasp of air as she felt Courtney lining up with her entrance. Her hands gripped at the sheets as Courtney gradually pushed her way in until their hips fully met one another. Running a hand over Alaska’s waist, she waited until she felt the tension leaving her partner’s body before she began moving. Her movements was tentative at first, clearly concerned about hurting the younger queen, but once she heard the whining and felt her thrusts being eagerly matched by Alaska, she swiftly got to work building up a break neck pace.

Sooner than Alaska would ever admit, she was like a rag doll in the Aussie’s hands, taking everything she was willing to give and still begging for more. She loved the feeling of reckless abandon that Courtney exuded, especially when combined with her casually observant nature. Anything that produced a stronger than normal reaction, Courtney made sure to repeat ten-fold. She was both rough and gentle with Alaska as she laid claim to the other’s body. She handled her with care, almost but never using quite enough force to leave any marks. That was a key difference between her and Willam; Courtney would make sure she’d never lose the memory of how she made her feel, while Willam made sure she’d be reminded every time she looked at her body. He loved to leave scratch and bite marks, even if sometimes it was unintentional. He wanted to be sure that every encounter would not be easily forgotten.

And it certainly didn’t seem like he’d be forgetting about this showcase anytime soon. He watched intently as Alaska fell apart under Courtney’s touch, so close she could barely form a warning between her broken moans and cries. Always one to help, Willam pulled Alaska down to reconnect their lips and wrapped her hand around the other queen’s dripping length. Alaska very nearly whimpered at the contact but any noise she might have made was eagerly swallowed by Willam who wasted no time in licking his way into her mouth. The show of dominance from both queens was too much for Alaska and shortly after she found herself exploding over Willam’s hand and stomach to join his own mess from earlier. After just a few more thrusts, Courtney followed suit, releasing into Alaska with a breathy moan of her name. After taking a moment to calm herself down, she carefully slipped out of Alaska and pulled off the used condom. Knowing the others were far more worn out than she was, Courtney took charge of organizing the clean up and climbed out of the bed in search of washcloths.

Nearly the same moment that Courtney’s weight left the mattress, Alaska collapsed onto the bedding next to Willam, panting like a dog in the summer as a lazy smile stretched across her lips. Brushing aside her sweat slicked hair, Willam told her in an uncharacteristically sweet tone, “Knew you’d look beautiful afterwards.”

Rolling her eyes, Alaska pressed a soft kiss to Willam’s lips, breaking away just in time for Courtney to return with the washcloths. While Alaska wasted no time in cleaning herself off, Willam was more than eager to pull Courtney on top of him for their own long overdue kiss. The pair’s bodies melded together so well it was almost as though they were never meant to be separated. Watching them work so fluidly against each other created a little pang of envy in Alaska’s stomach but she pushed it aside as they broke apart in order to ask in a timid voice, “So we…we’re still going to talk about this tomorrow, right?”

Courtney’s attention was immediately on her even as she gave Willam a light tap on the arm when he groaned at the question. “She never was one to talk about her feelings,” Courtney explained apologetically as she gave a short yawn. “Took me forever to get her to admit she even has them. But yes, we are going to talk about it tomorrow….All of us,” she reiterated, sending a pointed stare at Willam.

The dirty blonde shot her dirty look but didn’t make any further comment on the matter. He simply gave himself perfunctory cleaning and wrapped his arms possessively around Courtney’s waist as she laid down between them. “Unless there was something you want to ask about before then?” Courtney inquired cautiously.

Sleepily shaking her head, Alaska let out a tiny yawn and grinned at the two of them. “Tomorrow’s fine,” she reassured them as she nestled close to their reclining bodies. “Too tired now.”

As Courtney pulled her in even closer, Alaska noticed a fond smile stretched across both queen’s lips. For the first time in months, she felt 100% content as she fell into a deep sleep curled into two of the people she cared about the most. She was certain that however the conversation would be started tomorrow, together the three would find perfect harmony with one another.