#but they told me my teeth are otherwise healthy so that was nice

[the-meme-monarch]

also it was very nice of the orthodontic surgeons(I'm not sure if it's correct to call them dentists) that they never commented on my yellowed and crooked teeth. however they did put my x ray on the monitor directly in front of me to just look at for the entire time i was there and i do wonder if it was to shame me (/jokey)

anyway hopefully soon i will get my bottom two wisdom teeth taken out

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (37/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The night on the boat comes to an end.

Warnings: 18+ (female masturbation (vaginal fingering), light voyerism (auralism), mentions of: sex, oral, choking, cream pie, free use (if you squint you'll miss it)), fluff

Word Count: 4k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: happy Lando win everyone!!! feedback is appreciated! love ya.

“I think it's fantastic that you want to work with me,” Charles mumbles into the mirror as you brush your teeth in the tiny bathroom of the boat. 

It's now one o'clock in the morning, the cocktail glasses and shot glasses have been rinsed and are halfway tidily stowed away - the alcohol has put a spanner in the works when Charles accidentally dropped a glass. 

“I thought so,” you reply with a grin. “Otherwise you wouldn't have given me the contract for Christmas.” You spit the toothpaste foam into the sink and wash your mouth out with water. “But I'm also glad that you want to work with me. It really means a lot to me.”

Charles smiles at you. “Of course I want to work with you,” he replies and rinses his mouth out too. “Did you really think I'd bring someone else onto my team when my best friend is perfect for the job?” 

You look at him incredulously. “You didn't know if I was perfect for the job.”

Charles' cheeks flush a little. “Okay, you got me,” he admits. “I only knew the pictures you took for the magazine. And the pictures from Kika. But my gut told me it was the right decision.” He smiles lovingly at you. “Just like it was the right decision to share our first apartment.”

Warmth shoots into your face. Touched by his words, you look down. “I agree.” 

When you look at him again, he smiles fondly. “Best deal I've ever made.” He puts his toothbrush in his pocket and doesn't even realize how much his words touch you. “Are you looking forward to spending so much time with me?”

“Of course,” you reply, ”after all, thanks to you, I can travel the world and earn money at the same time.”

Charles rolls his eyes in mock annoyance. “Isn't my company enough for you? Isn't that enough of a reward?” he teases you and leans against the doorframe while you brush your hair. 

“That, my dear, is an incredibly nice perk.”

“Of course,” Charles grins and follows you back into the bedroom. 

You stop in front of the large bed before turning to your roommate. “Who's sleeping where?”

“You can have the big bed. I usually use it when I go out on the boat in the summer, but you're welcome to take it. I'll just take one of the small ones,” he offers. 

You shake your head vehemently, only to regret it for a moment - the alcohol has affected you a little more than you thought. “But it's your boat and your bed. You should have it.” You purse your lips. “Besides, you've had a lot more to drink than I have. You'll definitely need the whole place to sober up.” You can barely suppress the grin on your face. 

“It was maybe two or three shots more. And only because you just poured them without me being able to resist,” he defends himself. “A small bed is enough for me. Take the big one, please.”

You remember the two of you standing in front of the bed in your first apartment after spending the evening at Kika's. How you agreed to share the bed so that he wouldn't get a sore back. And you're only too happy to offer to share the bed in front of you again - but with the ulterior motive that there are still several beds actually free and you want to maintain a healthy distance between you, you can't suggest sharing the bed without it seeming strange. 

“All right,” you finally concede and smile at him. “Thanks.” You rummage through your bag looking for your sleeping clothes until you realize you've left them at home. “Shit.”

“What is it?” your friend asks, pulling a shirt out of his backpack. 

You rub your forehead with your hand. “I forgot my sleeping clothes.”

Charles laughs. “I told you there was a chance we could spend the night here.” He shakes his head with a smile and tosses you the shirt in his hand. “Here. I've got a second one with me.”

Without having to move much, you catch the shirt. The fabric is soft and warm in your hand. “Are you sure? I don't want you to -”

“Don't worry,” he interrupts you before pulling something else out of his pocket and throwing it in your direction. They are short sports shorts. “I don't have any more shorts with me, but I can sleep in a shirt and boxer shorts if you don't mind.”

You're glad that the lights inside the boat are dimmed - at least he can't see you swallowing hard to get rid of the frog in your throat. “All good,” you smile tightly and put your shirt and shorts on the bed behind you, ”thanks.”

“Not an issue,” he returns your smile and his gaze falls briefly to his clothes on your bed before he looks you in the eye again. “I - um - I just need to take a shower. I hope you don't mind.”

“Go on.” You sit down on the edge of the bed. “I don't think I'm going to fall asleep within the next few minutes. Besides, there are still a few things upstairs. I can just go and get them. Then you'll have a little more privacy.”

“Okay,” he says. “See you in a bit.” He disappears around the corner, where he then enters the bathroom. When you hear the door close behind him and the water running, you get up from the bed to change. You take off your sweater, shirt and bra and quickly slip Charles' shirt on. As his scent envelops you, you lift the collar to your nose like a woman possessed and breathe in the scent. 

You miss his closeness, the feel of his skin on yours. You long for his warmth, the pressure of his embrace. But you can't tell him that without making a fool of yourself, so you silently take in his scent and let the soft fabric fall back onto your body. It almost feels like one of his hugs - but only almost. 

You quickly change into his shorts before folding your clothes neatly and placing them next to your bag on the couch. On bare feet, you walk up the stairs and towards the sun bed. You carefully put the bottles of schnapps and wine back in the basket and try to carry them as carefully as possible. As you walk down the stairs - almost staggering from the alcohol - you can't suppress the clinking. You put the basket down in the kitchen before going back upstairs to get the cushions. 

As you step onto the last step with the cushions in your hands, you stand frozen. 

“Oh fuck” - "just like that’"- ”you - fuck - your mouth feels so good”

Shocked, you stand still on the stairs as if you've been superglued there, your fingers digging into the cushions. 

“You can take it” - "I know, mon amour, I know" - “You're so tight, mon amour”

From where you are, you can hear the water from the shower pattering on the floor. The click of a shower gel bottle being closed. And Charles' voice, panting, echoing through the rooms. 

“So good for me” - "My good little girl" - ”All this just for me”

Heat rises to your face and the blood pulses in your ears as Charles - what? Touching himself in the shower? Doesn't he know you're down here? And is the bathroom door so thin that you can hear him?

You should go upstairs, give him his space and not listen to him pleasuring himself and moaning. But you can't move - you stand rooted to the spot on the last step of the stairs and can do nothing but stare towards the bathroom door. You hear him panting, cursing and the water splashing until your heart is pounding so hard you can almost hear it. 

“Want to stay in your pussy forever,” Charles moans. Is he thinking of someone in particular? Or does he just have a piece of porn playing in his head? 

“You take me so well,” you hear the Monegasque sigh - and it's as if your legs are moving on their own. 

It feels wrong as you lie down in the big bed and slip under the covers. And it feels even more wrong as you spread your thighs. You hear a grunt from the bathroom and the sound shoots straight to your pussy.

Without hesitation, you let your finger glide through your folds and gather your arousal, while your free hand slides under your shirt to slightly pinch your nipple. You bite your lip to stop you from moaning.

„Fuck, mon amour – yes, just like that“, you hear Charles from inside the bathroom as you start to slowly circle your clit. You imagine him standing in the shower, his hand gently stroking his cock and eyes closed. 

The touch of your finger is gentle, not too much but not enough as the motion makes you squirm. You can almost feel yourself dripping on the fabric of his shorts just from thinking about him. 

You think about the dream you had of him, the way it felt so real. How he kissed your heated skin, the way his fingers slid inside you and you shamelessly moaned into his mouth. 

Your finger slides lower, playing with your opening and as Charles groans in the bathroom about „how good you feel around him“ you slide your digit in. You bite into the pillow, drowning out the moans as you pump your finger in and out, while your other hand slides down to play with your puffy clit, your chest rising with every stroke of the pad of your finger against that spot inside you that just feels right. 

You think about the way his thigh felt on your pussy, how he rocked you back and forth, his hand on your throat and his glossy eyes. Tears well in your eyes from the pleasure you’re giving yourself, your hands slick with your wetness and the shorts probably ruined. But you don’t care. All you can think about is Charles as you slide another finger inside. 

Charles, who's standing a few feet away from you in the shower. Charles, who probably fists his cock, looking absolutely devine as the water runs down his chiseled body, helping him finish off faster. Charles, who you wish would get out of the fucking shower, so he could see the mess you’re making in his clothes, on his bed, on his boat.

Charles, who you wish would take you apart, splitting you on his dick as he tells you how pretty you look. How tight you are for him. How good you feel. 

Charles, who you would let do anything to you. Whatever he wants, in any way he wants. You belong to him, body and soul. 

„Come for me, mon amour, so I can fill you up“, he moans loudly and with one last pump of you fingers you come undone, not for you, but for him – even though he doesn’t know. 

Your breathing is ragged as you try to come to your senses, your fingers still thrusting in and out of your drenched folds at a leisurely pace, prolonging your orgasm. You twitch from being on the edge of overstimulation, but you don’t care. Your mind is consumed by the moaning Charles in the bathroom.

When you hear the shower turn off, you quickly wipe your hands on your shirt and pull the blanket up to your chest. You grab your phone and scroll through a few videos on TikTok as Charles comes out of the bathroom in his shirt and boxer shorts. He rubs his hair dry with a towel and when he sees you lying in bed, he suddenly stops as if struck by lightning.

“You're already in bed,” he says in amazement and hangs the towel over the edge of the dresser. 

“Yep.” You look from your cell phone to him and try to look as relaxed as possible - and not as if you've just come to his moans. 

Charles nods curtly and swallows. “Have you - is the bed comfortable?” he asks, running a hand through his damp hair. 

“Very comfortable,” you answer curtly and smile. You purse your lips. “We should sleep. After all - um - tomorrow we shouldn't show up at your mother's too late."

“Good idea,” he agrees with your suggestion. “Do you need anything else? Do you need something to drink? Are you thirsty?”

Not in the way you think, Charles. 

“I've got everything,” you smile, ”thank you.”

“Then - uh - good night,” Charles says, scratching the back of his neck before walking over to his bed and turning out the light. 

“Good night,” you reply, before turning onto your side and snuggling tighter into the covers. Your heartbeat is still pounding in your ears and you feel like your shirt is sticking to your sweaty body. You close your eyes and try to think about something other than Charles' moans, about what happened yesterday. How he felt under you. How good he felt. 

You press your face into the pillow and squeeze your eyes shut to finally fall asleep, to not feel bad for listening to him making himself feel good. But all you can think about is Charles in the shower, his cock in his hand and the moans on his lips. 

-

When you wake up in the morning, light is already streaming in through the large windows. The headache is thankfully limited as you sit up and take a look at your cell phone. The screen shows half past ten and you sleepily swing your legs over the edge of the bed. 

On bare feet, you pad in the direction where Charles had slept, but his bed is already empty and not a single sound comes from the bathroom. Which is a good sign, no?

You slowly climb the stairs to the upper deck, where you finally catch sight of Charles. He's sitting on the sun bed with his back to you, two cups next to him on the wood and a thermos flask. He's still wearing the shirt from last night, but he's put on a pair of long jogging pants, because it is winter after all. As you join him and take your first step outside the sheltered interior, you feel the cold wind blowing around you. Long trousers would definitely not have been a bad idea. 

“Good morning,” you greet him, rubbing your eyes as you plop down next to him on the sun bed. 

“Good morning,” he replies, pouring coffee into one of the cups before handing it to you. He looks at you and points at the shirt. “What happened there?”

You look down at yourself, confused. There are dark stains on the shirt he lent you to sleep in. Stains from your orgasm - stains from your cum because you wiped your hands on the shirt. “Toothpaste,” you lie quickly, hoping he'll buy the lie. 

“How do you feel?” he asks, without mentioning the ‘toothpaste stains’.

You gratefully take the cup from him before shrugging your shoulders. “Better than expected.” As you take a sip of the coffee, it fills you with warmth and makes you feel a little more awake. “And you?”

“Like I could drive the boat into the harbor without wrecking it,” he grins. “But definitely too bad to put up with Arthur for half the day.”

You smile into your cup. “If he gets too much for you, just let me know. Then I'll come and rescue you and distract him a bit,” you offer jokingly.

“If you do that,” he says, a broad grin spreading across his face, ”it would be the best Christmas present you could have given me.” He also takes a sip from his cup before looking out at the ocean in front of you. “I don't want to go back yet.”

Confused, you look at him. “Why not? Aren't you looking forward to Christmas with your family?”

“Yes, I am,” he replies without hesitation. “But - I don't know.” He purses his lips and exhales deeply. “I have the feeling that everything is different between us when we're in Monaco. That it's so forced, I mean. And I just don't want that.”

You look at him before also looking towards the sea. “Is that why you didn't want to go back yesterday? Because you just needed some more time?”

Charles nods slightly. "I just needed more time with you before the everyday life catches up with us. Before we get back to my family and pretend everything is fine.” His voice sounds sad. 

You turn to him. “But everything is fine between us,” you reply. 

He shakes his head. “Then why doesn't it feel that way? Why does it feel like there's a whole ocean between us when we're in Monaco, but when we're here, we're best friends?”

You can understand what he means. Since your mistake the day before yesterday, the distance between you when you're together in the apartment is so palpable that you could almost cut it with a knife. It's as if the apartment is cold and deserted, even though you've only just moved in. It doesn't feel like a home, but like a place where a friendship has been broken.

“I know what you mean,” you confirm. “I just don't know how we can change that. That we can feel like we're here at sea every day.”

The brunette takes another sip of his coffee. “I was thinking about maybe me moving back to the other apartment,” he confesses. When you look at him in astonishment, he shrugs. “Maybe we're just too close, you know? Maybe - I don't know - maybe physical distance would do us good. Distance that goes a bit further than from your bedroom to the couch.” 

You can't find the words to tell him how stupid you think this idea is, which is why you just stare at him. 

“But I can't,” he continues his thought. “I can't - I don't know -” He takes a deep breath before looking at you. “I don't know how I can be without you anymore. I have no idea what happened to make me so consumed by your presence. Another reason I wanted you to work for me. So that I never have to be apart from you. And that may sound selfish, and I'm certainly crossing every boundary we've established in the course of our friendship, but - ”

“I can't be without you either,” you interrupt him before you even know what you're saying. But it's the truth, however you want to interpret it. 

Charles smiles at you as if a huge weight has fallen from his shoulders. “It feels like an invisible string that keeps drawing me back to you. I can't explain it any other way.”

You nod slightly. “Me neither.” You purse your lips. “I don't want you to move out, or for this distance in the apartment to drive us apart. I want things to stay the way they are. Like this. That we can - I don't know - get drunk and laugh in the evenings, that we can watch movies and have fun with our friends.” You sigh. “Just a normal friendship.”

Your words sound convincing, even though friendship is the last thing you want. The stains on your shirt are proof enough.

“I want that too,” he agrees. “We can manage, can't we? You and me both.”

You nod. “As long as we stay together.”

“As long as we stay together.”

A short time later, you take the boat back and Charles steers it back to its place without any major problems. He leaves the yacht first and when you step onto the wooden jetty ten minutes later, Thomas gives you a friendly smile. 

“I hope your trip was pleasant, Madame?” he asks. 

“It was wonderful. Thank you very much,” you reply and make your way to where Charles collects you again without drawing attention to yourselves. You spend the drive home in silence, but the silence is pleasant. 

“Go and get yourself ready” Charles smiles as you enter the apartment together. “We'll leave as soon as you're done. And don't forget to pack a full overnight bag this time.”

You put your bag in your bedroom and roll your eyes, playfully annoyed. “Is there a dress code for today? Do I have to dress particularly fancy?” you ask him. 

He shakes his head. “Just wear something you feel comfortable in. Maman doesn't think it's so important that we're all dressed up at the table at Christmas and behave as if we're at the prince's table.” 

“All right. I'll have a quick shower and get ready,” you say before disappearing into the bathroom, where you shower, wash your hair and get ready in no time at all, right down to your outfit. In your room, you're standing in front of your wardrobe, examining your clothes, when a dress catches your eye. It's black and comes down to your mid-thigh, with long sleeves that flatter at the wrist. You slip into a pair of dark tights and matching shoes before packing your overnight bag. When you've finished - and checked your bag several times - you leave your room.

“Charles?”

“I'm in the living room,” he calls across the apartment. When you enter the room, he's sitting on the couch. He's wearing black chinos and a white shirt with the top buttons undone. When he sees you, a smile spreads across his handsome face. “You look wonderful.” He gets up from the couch.

Heat shoots into your cheeks. “You don't look too bad yourself, considering your mom doesn't expect fancy clothes,” you joke, slinging your bag over your shoulder. 

Your friend looks down at himself. “This is my chill outfit. I sit on the couch like this every night,” he laughs and reaches for the car keys and his wallet on the coffee table. “Are you ready?”

You nod. “We're ready to go.”

The rickety Renault takes you to Charles' mom's house pretty quickly, and she's already waiting for you when the both of you pull up. 

She embraces you with a smile as you leave the car. “Cherié! Merry Christmas! You look fabulous!”

You return her hug warmly. “Thank you, Pascale. You look wonderful too.”

She briefly puts her hands on your cheeks and smiles at you before turning her attention to her son. “You both look so beautiful!” She kisses Charles first on his left cheek, then on his right. “Now come on, the others are already here.”

As you follow her, you feel Charles' presence next to you. You smile up at him. “Thank you for taking me with you.”

There's a twinkle in his green eyes that makes your knees go weak. “Thank you for putting up with me here.”

Together you enter the house, where Pascale takes your bag from you. She turns to Charles. “You didn't tell me if you'd both be staying here. But Enzo has brought some good wine, so I've prepared your room. Then you don't have to drive home and can both enjoy the evening,” she smiles. "I've also made the bed."

Confused, you look at Charles, who stares after his mother as she climbs the stairs. “The bed?”

“Yep,” he replies curtly, without the slightest hint of emotion in his voice. 

“Bed - singular?” When he doesn't answer, you stand in front of him so that he has to look at you. “Charles, bed - singular?”

Charles' gaze fixes on you. He nods slightly. “Bed - singular.”

[badlucksav]

Since @orangepanic kindly pointed out I’d forgotten to share her birthday gift here…

No Limits

Rating: E

Pairing: Irosami

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Asami signs up for a military-inspired exercise course when Varrick gives her a discount coupon. What she doesn't expect is for the course to be so hard, nor to fall for the gorgeous intructor.

(Non explicit snippet under the cut)

“Yeah, right,” she said, trying to keep sarcasm from dripping into her tone. “Anyway, it’s been a long day and I’m pretty tired—”

“Right, yeah, I don’t want to keep you,” Iroh said. “But just real quick before I let you go, uh—I wanted to see if you felt like the course was too advanced for you.”

Indignation bristled through her. She’d had one bad session, and only because she was taken by surprise at its intensity. She could handle it.

“If it is, I was wanting to offer you some one-on-one sessions,” Iroh went on. “I want everyone to get their money’s worth with the course, and you did really well, but if you think you’d benefit from some more targeted sessions, I’m happy to help.”

Asami didn’t quite know what to think of that. Her first thought was that the extra lessons would cost her more money, and why would she want to do that when the original course was expensive enough? She wasn’t even a fitness buff; she maintained a healthy weight, but that was about it.

Her second thought was that he might actually genuinely care if she completed his course, and maybe even had a little fun with it. And maybe he actually cared about her, in the sense that he cared about the people who took his course. He had called her at home, on his personal time, both to make sure she was feeling better and to offer private lessons, after all.

“Um, wow, that’s very kind of you,” Asami began. “I’m not sure if I—I don't want to waste your time or my money. To be honest with you, Iroh, I was considering getting a refund and dropping the class.”

Iroh sucked in a breath between his teeth. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that,” he told her. “You did really well—”

“I threw up all over your shoes,” she said drily.

“—yes, but otherwise you did a good job,” Iroh said. “Look, I do these courses because I want people to be their happiest self. A lot of people feel that way when they’re fit. And I don’t just mean muscular or toned, but when they can run a mile and not want to die after—” Asami couldn’t help but snort, and Iroh chuckled before continuing, “—or because they can pull their chin over the bar on a pull-up. Miss Sato, you signed up for my class for a reason. I’d like to help you reach your goals, whatever they are.”

For a moment, Asami wasn’t sure what to say. Iroh didn’t sound like he was trying to peddle shit; he sounded genuine. She thought about how he’d been during the class that morning. He had seemed sincere and enthusiastic. Maybe he wasn’t full of shit. Spirits, when had Asami gotten so jaded?

“That sounds really nice, Iroh,” Asami told him. “Why don’t you text me your rates for one-on-one sessions, and I’ll see what works for me.”

“Oh, Miss Sato, there seems to be a miscommunication—I was offering them for free,” Iroh corrected her. “So just let me know what times work best for you. My schedule is very flexible.”

And so am I, a sultry voice whispered in her hand, and Asami flushed. Where did that come from? Sure, Iroh was attractive, and it was very kind of him to offer private lessons, but come on. She couldn’t sleep with her trainer…could she? No, she shouldn’t. She definitely should not.

“Thank you,” Asami murmured. “I’ll check with my schedule and I’ll let you know.”

“Perfect. I hope to hear from you soon.”

“Yes, you will. Have a good night.”

“You as well, Miss Sato.”

[vanserraseris]

END OF PART VI - Lucien learned how to fish from his brother, idk, no one can convince me otherwise. Just a warning that there are mentions of abuse and it is also implied. The next few parts are a little shorter, so hopefully they’ll be edited a little faster. I hope you enjoy it!!!

ahhhh so excited legoo!

Prince of Ashes. Part VI. 

masterlist.

“I don’t like this,” Lucien mumbled as he stared into the waters of the river.

Rufus kicked water at him. 

“I don’t like you,” Lucien grumbled as he made to splash back, his hand in midair when Eris growled at them. 

Rufus kicked water at Eris. 

Eris closed his eyes, standing straight, droplets of water dripped along his face and back into the river. He let out a long-suffering sigh. Lucien’s laugh could be heard above the sound of the water.

“I’ll remind the both of you that I was not the one that suggested we spend our day doing this.” Eris made a vague hand gesture in front of him. He opened his eyes and raised a wet, auburn brow at Rufus. Rufus waved a hand dismissively, something he seemed to have picked up from Eris. How annoying, Eris thought, and considered that perhaps he should wave people off less often.

“You’ve been holed away in that study of yours for far too long, it can’t be healthy. Touch some grass, Eris, smell some roses. I’m sure it will do you much good.” 

Lucien smiled, his shoulder length hair tied back messily with a strap of leather, “Why don't we make it a game, then, that should make this exciting.” Now that Lucien had grown a bit, he looked a lot like Rufus. Eris supposed that meant Lucien looked like him as well, but there were more similarities to the two youngest brothers.

Both of them had easy grins and playful, russett eyes. The only small differences were their noses and the fact that Lucien’s skin was a light brown in comparison to the pale skin of the rest of his brothers. Eris couldn’t help but think they were all very fucking lucky that Lucien had the blood-red hair they’d all gotten from their mother. Sometimes, Eris wondered where in the fuck the Lady of Autumn had managed to find a secret lover from another court, but he wasn’t too keen on asking her.

“Hope you’re ready to lose, fox,” Rufus bared his teeth at Lucien, “Don’t expect me to go easy on you just because you’re little.” 

Lucien stuck out his tongue. “First one to catch a fish wins,” he said, getting into position. 

Eris smiled, something that was becoming quite rare, bending over with his hands hanging loosely in the water, “Prepare to learn from the best, I’m sure the couple centuries I have on you both should give me an advantage.”

“Doubtful,” Rufus snapped, “You’re shit at this kind of thing.” 

Not true, Eris thought, but didn’t bother responding. Eris had been the one to teach Rufus how to do this in the first place, having learned from Micah and Widge from his time in the war camps. Eris was pretty sure that as princes, he and his brothers were very much above wading around in rivers trying to catch fish, but it was nice to get outside.

“Are you sure there are fish in this river?” Lucien muttered. 

“There are fish in every river,” Rufus replied, moving closer to their youngest brother. 

Eris was no longer paying attention to the water, he merely glanced up to look at Lucien. Lucien was biting his lip, a look of determination on his face as he stared intently into the running water. Eris guessed that Lucien could probably do anything he set his mind to with that kind of perseverance.

Eris had been spending less and less time at the Forest House, not just because of his father’s many orders, but because he felt as though the less attention he gave Lucien, Beron did the same. Lucien didn’t really understand why Eris was avoiding him, but at least he still had Rufus. Eris hated to admit that he missed the little runt, and he couldn’t help feeling like he was missing out on Lucien’s life.

Cato had just been born when Eris was sent to the war camps that bordered the Autumn Court, Owain had been born right before the War, and Maddox right after it. Eris had been busy then. Worst was when Priam was born and Eris had been dutifully kicked out of The Forest House to rule over a territory far away from the capital city of Calchas. Not being there for his brothers was one of the few things he’d regretted when he’d been younger, but he didn’t spend too much time dwelling on that now.

He had been around much more for Rufus. His mother had had a difficult pregnancy and Eris had worried for her. He’d worried even more when Rufus was born such a small and sickly thing, but that had only meant that Beron paid him no mind. It was evident in the way Rufus acted, in his mannerisms and the patterns of his speech, that Eris had been a big part of his brother’s life. Eris supposed they differed a lot in personality, but he didn’t mind.

He’d rather Rufus be wild and playful than whatever the hells had happened to him. 

“Ha,” Rufus said, amusement glittering in his eyes, “Found one.” 

With a small yelp, Lucien crashed into the waters. 

“Cauldron, Rufus,” Eris snarled. Rufus had wrapped a hand around Lucien’s ankle, holding him so that he dangled upside down, water dripping into the river from Lucien’s soaked clothes and hair.

Lucien made a funny gasping sound, his mouth gaping as he sputtered water. Eris didn’t know why he had panicked so irrationally, he knew very well that nothing dangerous lurked in these rivers. Eris stood to his full height and watched as Rufus lifted Lucien so that they were almost facing each other. 

“The rare fox fish, quite the catch, brothers,” Rufus grinned, “I’m sure Old Sae will be thrilled with this remarkable find.”

“Eris,” his youngest brother whined, and Eris sighed, reaching for Lucien. 

“Honestly, Rufus,” he tried to send a reprimanding look to him, but Rufus just shrugged, a smile still gracing his face. Rufus liked this sort of thing - tricks and riddles and jokes. Lucien liked it as well, just when he wasn’t the one the tricks and jokes were directed at. Lucien wrapped his arms around Eris’s neck, leaning his head on Eris’s shoulder like he had done when he was much younger.

Eris could hardly believe that Lucien was already a decade old. Eris held onto Lucien with one hand, fixing the cuff of his pants so that it covered the gold tattoo on his ankle. His father still didn’t know he’d gotten one, probably would have cut off his foot if he ever found out, but it served as a reminder to Eris that Beron didn’t own him. 

“That’s why Eris is my favourite,” Lucien mumbled as Eris straightened.

Eris couldn’t help the triumphant smile he flashed in Rufus’s direction. Rufus scowled, “You hardly ever see Eris! He’s always gone, and you constantly come crying to me when father makes you upset, and Eris is your favourite?” 

“Yes.”

Eris spoke before they started arguing, something they had begun doing a lot. “I think we’re done enough fishing for today.” Eris took the leather strap out of Lucien’s hair and handed it to Rufus, warming his hands with some of his magic and raking his fingers through the wet strands of his brother’s damp hair. “I should be getting back.”

“Mother’s tits, next time you want something, Lucien, I’m going to tell you to bother Eris with it.” Rufus was smiling as he ruffled Lucien’s hair, so Eris guessed Rufus might not have been telling the truth. “If you can find him, that is.” 

“You never come home anymore.” Lucien observed, leaning back in Eris’s arms as he gently moved the hair that had fallen into Eris’s face. Eris frowned, thinking how Lucien’s softness was going to get him into a whole lot of trouble in a few years time.

“He’s gotten tired of us,” Rufus flicked water from his wet hands at Lucien. While Eris was pretty sure Rufus had meant that as a joke, he couldn’t help feeling as though perhaps Rufus was hiding some truth in his statement, some complaint he had of his oldest brother. 

Lucien looked to Rufus, scrunching his nose in annoyance, “I’m tired of you.” 

Rufus snorted, “I sincerely doubt that.” 

“I’m not tired of you,” Eris felt like he needed to reassure them both, “I’ve just been busy.”

Rufus seemed to recognize that Eris hadn’t liked what he’d said, so he threw his arm over Eris’s shoulders as they continued to walk along the cobblestone path. “I know, I know, you think we’re great fun.” Rufus grinned, “It’s everyone else you’re tired of.” Just as they walked up the stone steps of The Forest House, Owain threw open the large, carved doors. Eris wondered if he’d been sitting there the whole time, waiting for their return.

The guards stationed there didn’t flinch at the loud bang the doors made as they hit the walls. “Where the hells have you been?” He snarled, his teeth bared. The jewels in the hilt of his large sword glinted in the light of the setting sun. 

“Watch your tone, Owain, I’m not in the mood,” Eris snapped.

Owain stood in front of Eris so that he couldn’t walk any further, his broad hand grabbing Eris’s shoulder roughly. “Father has returned from his trip to Spring a little early and he’s looking for you.” 

“He’s not due back until next week.” Eris thought that he would have been able to spend time with Rufus and Lucien, and Beron wouldn’t have even gotten word that he’d been neglecting some of his duties for it.

“Well, there’s been a change of plans, and now he’s fucking pissed.” Owain ran his fingers through his short, messy hair, “He already beat Cato bloody, said it was for letting you leave the house when you have a million things to do.” Owain shook his head, “I told father I’d send you to him once you’d returned. Head to the throne room - immediately.” 

Eris was debating whether he should ask Owain where their mother was when Lucien was wrenched from his arms.

“Fucking hurry,” Owain spat, holding Lucien a bit awkwardly. 

Lucien shifted in Owain’s arms so that he was facing his oldest brother, “Eris, you said you’d read me a story, you promised.” Eris frowned. He’d gotten very good at breaking his promises lately. 

“I’ll read you a story,” Rufus finally spoke, saving Eris from having to respond, “Maybe we can get Owain to join us, too.”

Eris didn’t think Owain had ever read to a child, but he couldn’t help but feel grateful to Owain as he shot Lucien a small smile before he said, “I suppose I could join you for a bit.” The tone of his voice was much softer than what Eris was used to hearing from him. As captain of the Royal Guard, Owain usually sounded like he was giving an order, snappish and abrupt.

Eris remembered a time when Owain was all smiles, and he often wondered what Owain would have become had Beron not been their father. “I’ll read to you another time.” Eris tugged once on a strand of Lucien’s hair, “Goodnight, fox.” Lucien’s russett eyes were wide as he looked at Eris, tears threatening to fall from them. With one last look at Rufus, who wasn’t doing a very good job of keeping the fear he so obviously felt off his face, Eris jogged down the hall towards the throne room.

He would have to stop spoiling Lucien, Eris thought. He was making things worse than they had to be. By the time Eris finally made it to the doors of the throne room, he’d decided that he’d be spending even less time with Lucien, since that was what it meant to protect him. Eris took a deep breath, running a hand through his unbound hair. Eris regretted that he hadn’t thought to bring his boots when they’d gone fishing, and he muttered a low curse as he stared at his bare feet.

He felt a bit ridiculous, but there was no point in stalling, so Eris took another deep breath before he pushed the doors to the throne room open. Beron was already standing, the Lady of Autumn behind him and off to the side. She was gripping the skirts of her dress so tightly her knuckles had turned white. 

“How many times do I have to tell you, boy,” Beron growled, his voice thick with rage. “How many fucking times?”

The ash-tipped whip in his father’s hand was familiar and Eris nearly flinched just looking at it. Beron shook his head when Eris didn’t respond, “Insolent,” he snarled. “The disrespect you show your High Lord cannot go unpunished, you understand that?” 

Eris watched as his mother took one small step forward. 

Eris widened his eyes in silent warning, but she spoke despite it. “Beron—”

“Be quiet,” his father hissed. “I don’t want to hear your voice.” Addressing Eris, Beron asked, “Where were you?” 

Despite being quite a bit taller than the High Lord of the Autumn Court, Eris usually felt very small in his presence. Eris lifted his chin, “Out.” He often found he sounded very young when his father questioned him - like a defiant child. Beron looked closely at his eldest son, eyes stopping on Eris’s bare feet.

“5 for disobedience and 5 because you should have known better.” It could have been so much worse, and Eris knew he should have been counting his blessings for such a simple punishment, counting his blessings that Rufus and Lucien weren’t there in his place, but he couldn’t help the feeling of hate that swelled in his chest. 

“Beron, please,” his mother begged. Eris didn’t know why she bothered, at this point, Eris’s back was so scarred it hardly mattered.

Beron turned to face her, flames in his eyes as the temperature in the room raised. “Speak again, and I’ll add another five.” 

Since Eris could remember, Beron had always been a High Lord before a father. As Eris undid the laces of his shirt, he vowed that he would be a father before a High Lord if he lived long enough to do both.

[ofendlesswonder]

ah so exciting! would love number 25

25. “I need a place to stay.”

A shadow falls over Kara’s desk, and she pauses her proofread of her latest article to glance up at the person hovering by her shoulder, jaw dropping open when she gets a glimpse of messy blond curls.

“Carter?” It’s been months since she’d thought of him, longer still since she’d seen him, but the face is unmistakable, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “What are you doing here? Is your Mom here?”

She hasn’t seen Cat in months, either, not since she left to ‘dive’ into pastures new. No one has seen her recently, in fact—she’s effectively disappeared off the face of the earth, is only mentioned in gossip columns when they’re speculating her whereabouts.

Not that Kara has a Google alert set up for her name, or anything.

“No, she’s in Washington.”

“D.C.?” What on earth is she doing there? And what on earth is Carter doing here, backpack slung over his shoulder, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks blotchy like he’d been crying.

“Yeah. She took a new job there.”

Kara feels like he’s reading from a script she isn’t privy too, has no idea how any of this has led him to be here, standing by her new desk and scuffing his converse along the floor. “Okay…”

“But I don’t want to live there. I didn’t want to leave here, but she said it would be temporary. That we’d come back. Only now she wants to work in the stupid White House and she’s looking at apartments and a new school and I—I don’t want it. We had a fight.” He sniffs, rubs the back of his sleeve across his cheek like he’s scrubbing away the remnant of his tears. “And I said I wanted to come back. Live with Dad, if that’s what it took.”

Kara can only imagine how Cat would have taken that.

Not well, by any means.

“She sent me back, only I don’t want to live with my Dad, I want to live with her, but here in our old apartment. He wouldn’t even meet me at the airport. He said I was old enough to get a cab.”

Kara’s jaw tightens—she knows Chris is an asshole, but this seems like a new low, even for him.

“So, I got a cab, but not to him.”

“You came here, instead.” Here, to some semblance of stability, of familiarity. The apartment is gone—Kara had helped Cat list it for sale, and it had been snapped up in no time, and she wonders if Cat had ever really considered a move back to National City. The apartment is gone, but CatCo. is not, and Kara remembers countless afternoons where Carter had come by after school, curling up in Cat’s office with his homework. Sometimes, Kara had helped him with a particularly stubborn math problem, or talked to him about his favorite anime, keeping him entertained until his mother was off the clock.

“I need a place to stay,” he says, voice small, eyes glued to his shoes. “Can I come home with you?”

Yes, she wants to say, without hesitation, recognizing the small, scared child he so desperately tried to hide, the one who felt like he had nowhere else to go. Yes, of course you can—but it’s never that simple, is it?

She has a secret identity to protect, and he’s supposed to be with his father, and Cat might kill her, and—

Wait.

Does Cat know where he is?

“No,” he says, when she asks. “I didn’t tell her. And I turned off my phone, so she wouldn’t track me.”

“Carter.” She can’t help the admonishment, because she knows how much Cat cares about him—she’d do anything for him, and she imagines her pacing up and down a hotel room in the capital, already on the phone to the police. “You should call her.”

He makes a noise of discontent.

“At least let her know you’re safe. She’ll be worrying.”

“Can you call her?”

“I…I don’t know about that. I think it would be better coming from you.”

“Please?” He peers down at her with eyes so like his mother’s that Kara aches.

“All right,” she sighs, and makes the mistake of glancing across the bullpen. Snapper is glaring at her, his face red. Great. Someone else who wants to kill me. Could this day get any better?

“Kara?” Cat answers the phone sounding harried, and Kara recognizes the faint note of panic in her voice. She lets herself bask in the familiarity of it for one long moment—months, since she’d heard Cat’s voice, months, since she’d last felt the comfort of it. Months of missing her, in a way she knows she isn’t allowed to. “This isn’t a great time.”

“Uh, I know.” She looks at Carter, who avoids her gaze. “Something about a missing fourteen year old?”

“How…how do you know that?”

“Because he’s standing right in front of me.”

“Carter’s with you?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Why?”

“Good question. Should I let him explain it for himself?”

Carter shoots her a sharp look, but Kara forces the phone into his hand anyway, pointedly turning away like she’s not listening as he lifts it to his ear. She stares at the blinking cursor on her computer screen as he talks, trying to summon the will to finish her work.

No such luck.

“Could you…could you keep an eye on him for me?” Cat asks, when Carter gives her back her phone. “I’m going to fly out as soon as I can, but it’ll be a few hours before I can get there. I know it’s an imposition, and he’s supposed to be with Chris, but he said he’d be more comfortable with you.”

Her gaze flickers to Carter, to the hopeful expression on his face, to the pleading note in Cat’s voice, thinks of the opportunity to see her again, even if for just one more day.

“Okay,” she says, and knows it’s the right decision when Carter lurches forward to wrap his arms around her neck. “I’ll watch him.”

“No runaway trains this time,” Cat says into her ear, and Kara laughs, remembering her last ill-fated babysitting attempt, a lifetime ago.

“I’ll try my best.”

 ***

The knock on her door comes at nine thirty, not quite loud enough to wake the sleeping teenager stretched out on her couch.

She pulls open the door, comes face-to-face with the woman she’s been trying so hard not to think about for the past few months, and Kara thinks, as their eyes meet, her heart thudding painfully in her chest, that she’s been fooling herself, because it all comes rushing back the second their eyes meet.

There was only ever one reason why things would have never worked with James, one reason why Kara hasn’t been able to so much as think about dating since they’d ended things, one reason why her life has felt so empty these past few months.

Only one person who could make her heart pound, set butterflies free in her stomach, make her palms—physically impossible though it may be—feel damp.

And that person is the woman standing in front of her now, her eyes as wild as her hair, mussed from the wind, a faint flush on her cheeks and Kara wonders if she’d raced up the stairs in those three inch heels, desperate to set eyes on her beloved son, to see for herself he was safe and well.

“Come on in,” Kara says, standing aside to let her past. It’s the first time Cat has been inside her home, and the gravity of the moment isn’t lost on her.

She’s glad she had the foresight to tidy up a little, while Carter had been in the shower.

If he’d noticed that the amount of cleaning she’d done shouldn’t have been possibly in such a sort frame of time by human hands, he’d had the grace not to mention it.

“I, uh, didn’t want to wake him up,” Kara says, pitching her voice low, when Cat gravitates toward the couch, gazing down at Carter with such open affection she feels like she has to look away. “Seeing as he’s had a hard day.”

She’d tried to distract him as much as possible, enlisting his help with the fun of filing while she’d been at work, and then with food and games once she’d taken him home. He looked like he’d needed it, lost in his head, spiralling over the choices that had been made for him, bits and pieces of his life over the last few months spilling out over the course of the afternoon.

“Thank you for looking after him.”

Kara shrugs. “It wasn’t any trouble.”

“Still. You don’t owe me anything. Not anymore.”

“On the contrary, Ms. Grant. I owe you a lot.” She’d forgotten how hard it was to think, with Cat’s eyes weighing heavy on her face. “My job, for example. I wouldn’t be a junior reporter without you.”

“Nonsense. You got that job on your own merit. Otherwise you wouldn’t be doing so well.”

“You read my articles?”

“Of course.” Cat looks offended she thought otherwise. “Is Snapper still giving you hell?”

“I think he likes to torture me.” Her nose wrinkles, and Cat laughs, some of her worry ebbing away now Carter is within her sights.

He’s still sound asleep, and Cat doesn’t look like she wants to wake him. Bathed in the glow of the lamp on Kara’s coffee table, she’s breath-taking, and Kara looks away before she’s caught staring.

“Do you, um, want a drink or anything?”

“I wouldn’t want to impose any more than we already have.”

Panic seizes her heart at the thought of Cat leaving so soon, because when would she see her again? Would she leave right away, ushering Carter back to the CatCo. jet and across the country before night truly fell? Or would she linger, perhaps let herself remember all the things she loved about this place?

Not that that would include you, you idiot.

“Please,” she says, trying not to listen to the voice in her head. “I…It would be nice to hear what you’ve been up to these last few months.”

For a moment, she doesn’t think it’s enough. Thinks Cat is going to leave anyway, slip away even though Kara only just got her back.

But then she blinks, and her lips curve into the smallest of smiles, and she says: “Very well. What have you got?”

Good question, Kara thinks, because probably not a lot. Whatever Alex and Maggie had left over last game’s night, which turns out to be a bottle of cheap whiskey Cat turns her nose up at. Kara doesn’t blame her—apparently it left a killer hangover.

“I’m trying to cut down on drinking,” Cat says, and her gaze flickers over to the back of the couch. “I’ve been told it’s not very healthy. Apparently it’s bad for my liver.”

A sentiment she’d never once shared before, but Kara bites her tongue. It’s none of her business, the ways in which Cat has changed. None of her business, to wonder if Cat’s been throwing down scotches to try and chase away the memories of the city she’d left behind.

“How about a tea?” Cat suggests, and Kara blinks at her.

There’s a request she’s never made before.

“Regular, peppermint or camomile?”

“Regular is fine.” Kara brews a pot, wonders why she feels so jittery, but she knows the answer. It’s because Cat is here, in her space, after so many months away. Here, in a place thus far untouched by her, and Kara knows when she’s gone she’ll feel the imprint of her, remember the way she’d stood, leaning against her kitchen counter, looking out of place and like she was exactly where she belonged at the same time.

“So,” she says, once she’s handed Cat a steaming mug. “Washington, huh?”

“Carter told you.”

“Only a little. He didn’t say what you were there for.”

“I was offered a job. White House Press Secretary.”

Kara nearly chokes on a sip of her own tea in shock. But then, she thinks, it makes sense. She could see it—Cat, at the front of a room full of reporters, tearing them apart if they dared ask her the wrong thing. She could certainly think of no better person to have fighting your corner than Cat Grant.

“Is that what you want to do? Get into politics?”

“It’s something I’ve considered.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“My, my,” Cat says, clutching her mug between long fingers and throwing Kara a lazy smile. “Look at you. Am I being interviewed, Ms. Danvers?”

Kara ducks her head, feeling her cheeks warm. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“It’s all right.” Cat’s voice is gentle, her eyes unguarded when Kara dares to look her way. “To be honest, I don’t know what I want. I thought getting away from here would bring me clarity, inspiration for my next big thing, but…instead I found myself wandering without purpose. Less a shark stuck in a tank and more a tiny goldfish, lost at sea.”

“Then why not come back? It...it’s not the same without you.” Too much, probably. Too close to spilling the truth, maybe, but it’s too late to take the words back now.

“Because my reasons for leaving haven’t changed.”

What reasons, Kara wants to ask, because the ones she’d been given had never made any sense. Cat handing over the reins to her beloved company just didn’t seem like something she’d do, especially without so much as a glance back. What reasons, Kara wants to know, but the line they tread is so thin—she thinks of Cat’s razor-sharp voice saying strictly professional and never wants to feel an ache like that again.

“And what about Carter?”

Cat glances toward the couch again and sighs. “I hadn’t realised he was so reticent until today. I know he struggles with change, but…I thought this would be a good one. He could go to a better school, have more opportunities. I didn’t know he was so attached to this place.”

“Of course he’s attached. It’s his home. It’s all he’s ever known, and you—no offence—are yanking it away from him.”

“I suppose you have a point.” Cat’s lips purse. “When did you get so wise?”

“Learned it from the best,” she says, and Cat’s smile is tight. “Are you…are you going back there tonight?”

“No, I don’t think so. I think Carter and I need to have a discussion, first. One where I listen to him instead of making the decision for him. I just…I thought I was doing the best thing for him. For both of us.”

“So you might stay?” She can’t quash the hopeful note in her voice, watches a shadow pass across Cat’s face and wonders what it means.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I can.” Her fingers tremble, the tiniest amount, as she sets down her empty mug, runs them through her hair.

“Why?” Just do it, she thinks, because when she wakes up tomorrow, Cat might be gone, and there are too many unanswered questions for her to be left with. “What’s so bad about being here? What are you so desperate to get away from?”

“Oh, Kara.” Cat’s eyes close, a sigh rattling through her chest. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then help me to.” She knows she’s being obstinate. That there’s a reason Cat doesn’t want to tell her, that she has no right to know.

But she remembers Cat saying goodbye, Cat’s arms wrapped around her, heart beating so loud it was impossible for Kara not to notice, the shimmer of tears in her eyes before she’d blinked them away. Remembers the countless times Kara had reached out, over the past few months, only to be ignored, like she meant nothing when she knew she’d meant at least something.

“Please, Cat. I just want—”

She’s cut off when Cat surges forward, settling one hand on the counter beside Kara’s hip and wrapping the other around the back of Kara’s neck, drawing her down into a kiss. Kara freezes, brain short-circuiting as Cat’s lip brush against her own, soft and warm, but when she feels Cat begin to pull away, her bravado failing, she snaps into action, discarding her mug on the counter and splaying a hand at the small of Cat’s back to keep her close.

It’s been building for years, she thinks, as Cat parts her lips for Kara’s searching tongue, nails digging into the base of her skull. Years of working closely together, a spark igniting but neither of them willing to give it space to grow, too terrified of what might happen, if it grew into a fire they could no longer control.

“That’s why,” Cat breathes, when she pulls away, heart hammering almost as fast as Kara’s.

“Seems like a pretty good reason to stay to me,” Kara says, leaning in to kiss her again, but Cat stops her with a shake of her head.

“It’s not. Kara, you shouldn’t want this. Shouldn’t want me.”

“I know,” she says, and when Cat flinches, she doesn’t let her pull away. “I know there are a dozen reasons why I shouldn’t, why we shouldn’t be together, but I also…don’t really care. I’ve spent the past few months missing you like crazy, and it hasn’t diminished the way I feel about you. Doesn’t that mean something? Doesn’t that mean it’s worth trying?”

“I…” Cat trails off, meets her gaze and traces the pads of her fingers across Kara’s cheek, looks at her like she barely believes she’s real. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to.”

“You start by letting me in. By not running away when—” She hears movement on the couch, hopes to Rao Carter hasn’t heard any of their hushed conversation. “Carter’s waking up.”

Cat is quick to slip from her arms, and Kara feels the loss of her like a physical ache, chilled to the bone in the places she’d just been burning with warmth. “I don’t want this to be the end of it,” she says, knowing Carter’s not yet fully conscious, knowing they have a few more stolen moments. “I don’t want you to go to your hotel room and talk yourself out of it.”

“Kara Danvers, are you asking me to spend the night?”

“No, because I know you’d turn me down.” She can sense it, in the nervous energy radiating from her. Cat isn’t a person who lays her heart on the line, is someone guarded and careful, isn’t reckless the way she had been tonight. She needed time to process, time to think it through, and Kara would give her that—as long as she wasn’t going to slip away without saying goodbye. “But we should talk. Tomorrow.”

“Before five.”

Kara frowns. “Why five?”

“Because that’s how long the Press Secretary job is on the table for.”

“You haven’t accepted it?”

“Not yet,” she says, and Kara feels hope bloom in her chest. “I told them I had some things I need to consider first.”

“And now?”

“Now I have even more things to think about.” She reaches out, catches Kara’s fingers with her own and squeezes, and Kara’s heart thuds in her chest. She wants to lean down, wants to kiss her again, already misses the heat of her mouth, but a head pops over the back of the couch, Carter rubbing at his eyes.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Don’t you ‘Hi Mom’ me,” Cat says, eyes narrowing until Carter gulps. “Do you have any idea how worried I was, young man?"

“I’m sorry,” he says, his head hanging. “But I wanted to stop you doing something stupid, and this was the only way I know how.”

And thank Rao he had. Her day would have shaken out very differently had Carter not arrived in the bullpen, she knows. She’d have finished her article and gone to hang out with Alex and Maggie, probably, tried to ignore the ache seeing the two of them so happy seems to incite, lately, craving something similar for herself.

“Hm. Well, we’ll talk about it later. For now, I think we’ve taken up enough of Kara’s time, don’t you?”

Not enough of it, Kara thinks, but she bites her tongue. Space. Time to process. Not snuggling up together on the couch with a movie.

“Thanks for today, Kara.” Carter looks only a little sheepish as he gathers his things, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“Any time, buddy,” she says, meaning it more than he’ll probably ever know. The urge to kiss Cat goodbye is so strong she can barely stand it, and she balls her hands into fists at her sides so she doesn’t reach for her. “I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow?” She asks, before Cat slips through the door, dizzy with the feeling of being on the cusp of something she’s wanted for so long.

“Tomorrow,” Cat agrees, looking like it pains her to say it, looking like she doesn’t know how she’s possibly going to muster the will to leave, green eyes so heavy on Kara’s face it feels like a caress, feels like the ghost of her kiss, makes her feel like she’s burning from the inside out. “Goodnight, Kara.”

Goodnight, and not goodbye, and Kara hovers in the doorway, watches them go down the hall.

“You are in big trouble,” she hears Cat say as they turn the corner, slipping out of sight. “What were you thinking?”

And she shouldn’t listen, she knows, but she catches her name, as they start down the stairs, and can’t help but tune in to a snippet of conversation.

“I was thinking I missed home, and that I was sick of you moping after Kara for the past eight months, and it was time someone did something about it,” Carter says, then: “Ow!” as Cat must smack him over the head.

“Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again.”

“But did it work?”

“None of your business.”

“It totally worked.”

Kara shakes her head, unable to bite back a smile as she steps back inside and lets the door shut behind her.  

[merryfortune]

Sweet Dreams Under the Sea

Written for 100ships on Dreamwidth

Prompt #40 Ocean

Main Ship: Chongire/Numeri 

Other Notable Relationships: Chongire & Elda, Elda & Numeri

Fandom: Tropical Rouge PreCure

Word Count: 1,634

Rating: G

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Tags: Fluff, Bittersweet Ending, Domestic, Found Family

   “Excuse me, Elda, but it is past your bedtime.” Butler said, peering in closer to the girl, his eyes unnerving but Elda was unrelenting. “Early to bed, early to rise, makes a girl healthy, pretty, and wise.”

   “I don’t wanna.” Elda pouted, her arms flailed as she held tightly onto her dolls.

  Chongire who had been walking past the hallway overheard and decided to, “I don’t see any harm in letting her stay up. Imagination play is good for kids or something like that.” 

   Butler sighed and shook his head.

   Numeri, who had been following along with Chongire, giggled, “I’m sorry, Chongire, but I’m with Butler on this one,” she said, she placed her hands on Chongire’s back, unsettling him as he could feel her snail slime seep in past his clothes and was cold, “it would be better for Elda if she went to bed early.”

   “I don’t want to!” Elda continued to resist.

   Butler looked pleadingly to Numeri, “You are better at handling this child than I am.” he said.

   Numeri slithered into the room and put her hands on her hips. Elda stared her down and Numeri knew if it was going to be a battle of wills, Elda would win. She had more youth and energy, after all. She could throw a tantrum until the Fool’s Casket was full and never tire. Get hungry, perhaps, but not tired.

   “Elda, why don’t Chongire and I take you to your room. We’ll put you to bed with sea cow milk and seashell cookies. We can even tell you a bedtime story. That way, you can still stay up a little bit late but not too late like Butler feels.” Numeri negotiated in a pleasantly sweet and gentle voice.

   Elda paused to consider the offer. She hummed in thought and tapped her chin before shrugging. She set down her dolls and said, “Alright.”

   “That’s a good girl.” Numeri praised her.

   “You spoil her too much.” Chongire whispered to Numeri and she just giggled again.

   Butler shook his head but the bargain worked. Elda popped herself off the top of the table she was so comfortably lying on and swam over to Numeri and Chongire. Numeri gave Butler a wave good night as it was unlikely to see him afterwards as it was his usual bedtime, too but Chongire rolled his eyes. 

   Numeri and Elda began to shuffle off and Chongire gruffly piped up, “Good night, Butler.”

   “Good night Chongire, good night Numeri, and good night Elda. I will see you all in the morning, ready to report for breakfast.” Butler bade them and that was that.

   Chongire huffed and though he had been going one way - leaving the kitchen - it was time to go the other way - back to the kitchen. He was just as bas as spoiling Elda, quite clearly, otherwise he wouldn’t go through the effort of fetching the snacks that Numeri had suggested. One cold, frothy drink of sea cow milk and seashell cookies coming up. It wouldn’t take that long, thankfully.

   So, once Chongire had done that, he scuttled along to catch up to Numeri and Elda and it looked like he had made it back just in time. Elda was throwing a tantrum. She swam swiftly around her room, literally banging off the walls and following the ricochet and all whilst incessantly screaming for her snack. Poor Numeri, shuddering at the shrillness of Elda’s voice, in the middle of it.

   “Good grief…” Chongire muttered to himself and he lifted up his claws slightly, to show off the tray that he had brought out. “Here you go, little girl.”

   Elda stopped mid-paddled and was completely still, she beamed, “Well why didn’t ya say so sooner?” she asked as she very civilly swam over to Chongire, her little tail wagging and her antennae twitching excitedly. “You always make the best snacks, Chongire.”

   “Thanks, kid.” Chongire replied, half a smile on his hard face.

   Elda grinned greedily, reaching for the sea cow milk with one hand and with the other, she was snatching up the seashell cookies that Chongire had made. Elda was munching them down, getting crumbs everywhere but she did it with an earnest excitement that was endearing. Even Numeri slyly sneaked a biscuit or two. It made Chongire smile, even if it was a gruff and somewhat hidden smile. He put a lot of effort into this pain in the neck cooking thing, it was nice to see it appreciated for once. He wasn’t going to get such gusto from the Witch of Delays any time soon so he did savour Elda’s gluttony and even Numeri’s as well.

   “Ah,” Elda exclaimed, smacking her lips together, “that was the good stuff.”

   “Ready to brush your teeth and go to bed then, hm, Elda?” Numeri prompted her.

   “I suppose.” Elda breathily sighed. “I’ll be quick as.”

   “No, you won’t. Two minutes.” Numeri told her.

   “Fiiiine.” Elda sighed loudly again.

   Chongire smiled to himself. Perhaps Numeri could be strict with Elda once in a while.

   Elda swam off to her ensuite and kept the door open. From the doorframe, she showed off how she could brush her teeth like a big girl and to complete Numeri’s order of at least two minutes. It was horrible. It was such an inconvenience, but Elda did it and then returned once she had wiped her mouth.

   Her little, fat tail wagged as she dived on her bed. She had a nice cosy little nest of a four poster bed in the corner. She got under the covers, wriggling down, and yawned, a little bit fakely. She patted her mouth and beckoned her two carers closer.

   Numeri very happily slithered closer, putting an arm around Elda, half in her own bed whilst Chongire hovered, a little distant, a little awkward. He crossed his arms but he sat down. Numeri smiled softly and she played with Elda’s hair, undoing her pigtails and straightening them out.

   “Is that better? Easier to sleep on?” she asked.

   “A little… yeah…” Elda murmured as she settled and then took a big breath. “But I want a bedtime story! You promised me a bedtime story!”

   Numeri giggled, “That I did, that I did…” she murmured. “Hm, let’s see… How about the story of Finderella.”

   “Ooh,” Elda’s eyes shone, “that’s my favourite.”

   “Glad to hear it,” Numeri said and then she glanced at Chongire, “what about you?”

   “It’s not bad.” Chongire replied with a flippant gesture of his gauntlet.

   “Well, you can do the prince’s voice.” Numeri said impishly.

   “I’ll try.” Chongire grumbled, he didn’t think he was going to be very good at it.

   Not like Numeri. She was a natural. Her tone of narration as she reeled off the story of the mermaid named Finderella was beautiful. Elda smiled, her eyes slowly closing, as she listened to Numeri’s fairy tale and by the end of it, Elda was snuggly and cosy in the bed. Numeri smiled gently and kissed Elda’s forehead.

   “And Finderella lived happily ever after…” she murmured, “Good night, Elda, sweet dreams, we’ll see you in the morning.

   “Okay,” Elda yawned, half-asleep, “night, night, Mama… g’night, Papa.”

   Numeri giggled, a scant blush of blue to her purplish face. She glanced at Chongire who was completely embarrassed.

   “Aww,” she whispered, “not yet ready to be a daddy?” she teased him.

   “N-No, it's not like that, argh, darn kids these days… I’m not that old.” Chongire grumbled.

   Numeri slowly edged away from the side of Elda’s bed and slithered towards Chongire. She slipped her arms around his huge, shelled forearms and snuggled in.

   “Speak for yourself,” Numeri murmured, “my biological clock is ticking.”

   Chongire grumbled but nothing coherent.

   “I think it's sweet that Elda considers us parental figures.” Numeri said and Chongire opened the door for them.

   Chongire’s guarded expression softened, “Yeah, it is,” Chongire murmured, “I guess I just wish…”

   “Wish it didn’t have to be so?” Numeri finished Chongire’s sentence for him.

   He nodded gravely as they continued down the halls. It was pretty lonely and very tough to grow up in the bottom of the ocean. Down an abyss where no one wanted them, except to use them like with the Witch of Delays. Cast out from the Grand Ocean, where light did penetrate the layers upon layers of water, where song and dance were commonplace. Where it was vibrant with energy and motivation and for reasons unknown, even to the adults that they were now, they had been forbidden it. Parents had abandoned them, or maybe they just came out of the squishy egg shell alone with only their instincts. Him, Numeri, and even little Elda. That was all the beats of their story - and it wasn’t exactly a fairy tale nor was it to be on the villains’ side.

 “C’mon, let’s go to bed, we’re too old to stay up late, don’t you think, Papa?” Numeri teased him even after that lull of unspoken, melancholic reverie.

   “Whatever you say, marm.” Chongire teased her back.

   “Well, I'm the doctor and doctors always know best.” Numeri said and she stretched herself up, her sea cucumber tail wiggling unsightly, just so she could get a chance at pecking the side of Chongire’s face.

   He smiled back at her, “Thanks and good night, Numeri, don’t sleep in again or we’ll all get in trouble.”

   “You better take your own advice as well then,” Numeri said and there was a bittersweet hesitance to how her hands slowly receded back to herself, the slimy pads of her fingertips skating over Chongire’s exoskeleton, “good night, Chongire.”

   With that, they parted and returned to their own quarters but for some reason, they both had the lingering feeling of not wanting to leave each other’s side. The heart could be very bothersome at times.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Alt Ending, Part 5

Hot take but finals kinda suck

First part

Previous part

Next part

Tag: @solangelo252

You’d think her body would be grateful that she was finally giving it food, but no. She put it in her mouth and instantly felt nauseous. It didn’t even want to go down her throat, and keeping it there felt basically impossible.

But Tim had looked so happy when she had tried, so she forced it down.

(Well, she forced some of it down. If he noticed that a good amount of the food she brought to her mouth actually disappeared into the sleeves and folds of her dress he didn’t say anything.)

Tim started coming by three times a day with food after that. She didn’t complain despite her discomfort, she had really missed him.

Also, he looked stressed out and/or exhausted whenever she saw him. She worried about him. They both had a tendency to overwork themselves when they hit blocks, hell she’d sometimes joined him in his week-long deep dives into cases, but now that she was an outsider looking in… she was kind of shocked she’d ever let it get that far for either of them. When was the last time he’d slept through the night? Taken proper time to clean himself, even? A while, she guessed from the deep bags under his eyes and the way his hair was frayed from running his fingers through it.

“Timmy,” she chirped.

He flashed her a tiny smile. “Hey,” he said, coming over and taking a seat beside her on the bed.

She took the bag from him and set it aside, much to his dismay, but then she reached over and dragged him into some cuddles and he suddenly had new concerns. He groaned into her shoulder.

“Bean, come on, I don’t want to sleep.”

She didn’t let go. “You need to.”

“Don’t have time.”

She rolled her eyes, bringing a hand up to start attempting to smooth out his hair. “You have to sleep eventually.”

“And I do!”

She didn’t answer, which he took to mean she didn’t believe him (a good assumption, she didn’t).

“I do! I get at least a few hours a week.”

“Wow, amazing. I take it back. You totally have a healthy sleep schedule.”

“Worry about yourself, first. You don’t sleep either,” he huffed, but he was starting to relax into her hold nonetheless.

“I’m also literally dead.”

“You used to say you’d sleep when you were dead.”

Marinette scoffed. “Well, to be fair, I thought I’d actually die when I died.”

He gave a short laugh, and she opted not to acknowledge that it was a little forced.

She yawned and laid back with his face in her shoulder. “I’m surprised none of the others have drugged you to get you to sleep yet.”

“They’re too busy drugging B --.” He winced just slightly. “They’ve just got a lot on their plates is all, I’m the least of their worries.”

She didn’t say anything about his tiny slip up, just gave a light hum to say she understood.

She didn’t dare to move until she was completely sure he had nodded off. Even then, she only did so to pick up the food he’d brought for her.

Her nose scrunched a little at the prospect of eating, but when she opened it and saw it was fried rice she perked up a little. She nibbled at her food.

Honestly, she didn’t know if it was working. It seemed to be, but then again most of the things that got better could be attributed to other causes. Her skin was gaining color again, but the bleach may have just started to wear out. She was feeling more energized, but then again she was now getting a total of four cups of coffee a day thanks to Tim and Jason fueling her addiction. Exercise was getting easier and she was packing on muscle again, but she was also working out enough with Dick for it to be explainable that way…

She didn’t know if it was working. She didn’t even know if she WANTED it to work. The plan had been ‘kill Bruce and then quickly off yourself before the others can react’ and not having an instant out was kinda problematic when it came to finishing that plan.

Not that the first part of that plan was working out for her, either. Bruce still hadn’t come to see her. She doubted he ever would at this point.

She didn’t even have a way out, as the door was automated and presumably opened by someone outside.

No. The only way she would ever leave was if she managed to ‘fix’ herself, and that wasn’t happening because there was nothing to fix! She would know. Her entire thing as Ladybug was fixing things.

She looked down at Tim. When he slept all the little wrinkles in his forehead smoothed to make him look much younger. She smiled a little at the sight, pressing a kiss to where she knew the creases usually were.

At least, even if her situation couldn’t be helped, she could still help others.

~

She’d come to expect a routine of sorts, so the moment it was broken even slightly her brain short-circuited.

Duke stood in the doorway as usual, but when she glanced past him…

“Where’s Cass?”

His grin disappeared a little, but he pulled his back to his face with ease. “Wow, I’m really feeling the love here, Mari.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, we both know Cass is the best person to ever exist.”

Duke nodded his agreement and came over to take a seat next to her. She cozied up to him as usual, curled under his arm as he pulled up their newest show on his laptop…

She had a lot of thoughts about Cass being missing.

On the one hand, she just missed her friend’s too-warm body pressed up against her and quiet complaints about how the actors were doing it all wrong.

On the other hand… Marinette was completely aware that they had Cass stopping by as much as she did to check on Marinette, to see if they were making any real progress with her. Cass was a human lie detector, able to detect when someone was going to be dishonest before they’d even realized it themselves, and they’d be stupid not to take advantage that. So, the fact that they were no longer making Cass drop in as often… either they thought she was doing better, or that she never would do better.

Marinette hoped it was the first. She knew it was the second.

She found it harder than usual to enjoy Duke’s snide comments about how dumb and cliche some of the characters were. She turned and pressed her face into his side. The glasses on the bridge of her nose dug into her skin.

Fuck. She was never getting out of there, was she?

She felt his free hand come up to run through her hair and she sighed.

“Duke…”

He pressed pause on the show.

“Tim told me you’re a meta, that you can control light. Can you do it for me?”

There was a beat.

“Why do you ask?”

She laughed a little. “Does it matter? Can’t I just be curious about why my favorite brother didn’t even bother to tell me that he has powers?”

“I thought you already knew. It’s common knowledge.”

She huffed. “Maybe I just prefer to be told things than meticulously look through every piece of information to figure it out.”

“What kind of bat are you?” He joked.

She winced and the hand in his shirt balled it just a fraction tighter. She didn’t respond.

There was a few seconds before he sighed and moved his hand from his hair to her chin, gently pulling her face out of where it was hidden in his side. She refused to meet his eyes.

It was silent again, neither of them sure what to say.

“Here,” he said after a moment, putting his free hand out and making light dance across his palm.

Her face lit up, literally and figuratively, at the sight of the tiny ball of light. She leaned a little closer.

“Aw, it looks like a tiny sun!”

He laughed a little. “Yeah. I can also…”

There was a moment of silence as he concentrated and the tiny ball of light split into the colors of the rainbow. She giggled, reaching out to cup his hand in hers. It was the first non-artificial light she’d seen in months, the first rainbow she’d seen since… Paris, actually.

Well, even if she wouldn’t ever see the outside world again, at least she could still have this little fake sun. It was basically the same, just as good, she told herself. She ignored the tears rolling down her cheeks that were telling her otherwise.

~

She tossed the plastic spoon she’d stolen from one of her meals in the air idly.

The plan had been to turn it into Baby’s First Shank but that probably wasn’t going to work out. Pen to the throat was at about a .01% chance of working, attacking him with a spoon-knife needed a few more zeroes added to that already insanely small number. She gave it a .000000001% chance at best.

Then again, the other option was trying to strangle someone who had an insane height and weight advantage to death before someone else could interfere...

She sighed to herself and put the spoon in her teeth, starting to pull.

She didn’t get very far before she heard the metallic whoosh of the door opening and she barely glanced up to see Dick.

He stared at her from the doorway, his eyebrows slowly raising as he watched her attempt to bite an edge into a spoon of all things.

She pulled it from her mouth with a ‘pop’.

“I think your eyebrows are trying to escape,” she told him.

He blinked at her before rolling his eyes and walking inside fully. “Thanks for the assist. Would have lost them otherwise,” he said sarcastically.

“I’ve seen you lose your phone three minutes after putting it down, Dickie, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

He gasped and rested a hand over her heart. “You think that low of me?”

“Lower. I was being nice.”

Dick pouted and walked over to the bed. She didn’t think much of it until he was diving onto her stomach. She put her hands out in an attempt to soften the blow, but it wasn’t enough to save her. She groaned in pain as his extremely hard head made contact with her not-so-hard stomach.

“FUCK. This is why your parents called you Dick, y’know!”

He only laughed at her.

Despite herself, she gave him a smile.

She rested her head back in the pillows for a moment (mostly just to catch all the breath she’d lost) before pushing him off. “Ready?”

He groaned into her comforter before rolling onto the floor. “‘Kay.”

Marinette grinned as she took a seat beside him, starting her usual stretches. He pushed himself up to sit with minimal groaning and started working on his shoulders.

It was quiet for a while as they stretched.

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek and kept her eyes on her foot when she spoke next: “Dick?”

She could feel his gaze on her.

“I… can I have some more stuff? Everything here is so boring. I just… I want new things to do. Or, at least, new things to look at.”

There was a long silence between them. Anxiety bubbled under her skin. She switched legs so she could gauge his expression through her bangs. His expression was carefully neutral.

She cringed.

“Obviously I’m not ungrateful! You guys have all been really nice and accommodating! I get food and a phone and, honestly, that’s fine --!”

“Mari!”

Her mouth snapped closed.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize. Anyone would be bored here. I can talk to them. It’ll probably depend on what you want.”

She finally looked at him properly, eyes wide. She really hadn’t been expecting that to work.

He slowly pulled his legs to him to sit criss-cross applesauce, head resting on his hand. “I can probably get some baking things, a sketchbook, just blunt objects in general. Deadly, but not before someone could get there.”

Marinette nodded her understanding, a smile making its way across her face.

“You’re the best.”

“You constantly say Duke and Cass are the best.”

She was torn between agreeing with herself and flattering him. Since she wanted something, she decided on flattery: “That was, like, a few hours ago. I’ve grown since then. You’re my favorite now, Dickie.”

“Can I get that as my ringtone?”

“Only if you only use it to mess with Jay.”

“Deal.”

They shook on it.

~

The door whoosed open and she barely moved her head to look at it.

She froze.

Bruce?

No. No way. There was no way in hell.

But was there? Cass HAD stopped coming. Maybe she had somehow convinced them that everything was working out and everything was fine.

Marinette hadn’t done anything differently, though, so that probably wasn’t it…

Oh. Oh shit.

Maybe she was actually going insane. Because there was no way the bats would have made that kind of mistake by letting Bruce in when she was still intent on murdering him. He had to be a hallucination, because nothing else really made sense. Kwami, Tim was going to be SO smug about this one.

Actually, no, he didn’t have to know.

Her gaze slipped away from Fake Bruce and back to the dots on her ceiling. Because, as everyone knows, that if you don’t acknowledge hallucinations they go away…

“Marinette,” Fake Bruce said, trying to trick her into outing herself as losing it.

“Marinette,” he tried again, starting his way over.

She did her best to ignore the footsteps and the way the bed shifted when he sat down. No wonder schizophrenics fell for this shit, this was all so real…

Except... weren’t schizophrenics not supposed to be able to tell what was real and what wasn’t? Wouldn’t her knowing (thinking?) he was fake be an indication that he was actually real? Or was that just her mind trying to justify believing it?

Marinette bit inside of her cheek and let herself look at Fake Bruce again.

He cracked a smile for her. A hand reached over and pushed some hair away from her face. “Hey,” he said.

She hesitated.

It would suck if this all was fake, the others would get confirmation and she really wouldn’t have a way out. But if it was real then this was her only shot. If it was real Cass would be watching the cameras to see what she was thinking and she would know for sure that Marinette was still intent on killing Bruce…

Fuck.

Marinette pushed herself into a sitting position and looked Maybe-Bruce up and down before grabbing him by the front of his suit and pulling him into a hug. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes when he hugged her back.

“Fake.”

The man tensed underneath her and then sighed as he pulled back.

He gave her an awkward smile. “I’m sorry, Marinette.”

She shook her head slightly and fell back. With a flick of her wrists the knife she’d created out of her plastic spoon was in her hands and she absently tossed it at the hallucination. Either it would make him disappear or it would look like it stabbed him and she could pretend that it actually happened.

But then it didn’t do either of those things.

Her eyebrows knit together when the spife shattered upon impact.

He looked unconcerned as he gently swept all the pieces into his hand and then put them in his pockets.

“The fuck?”

“Language,” he chided lightly.

She grinned. “You really need to work on your ‘Bruce’. Accepting a hug that quickly is one thing but chiding someone for language? In OUR family? I’m pretty sure he gave that up by Jason.”

The man chuckled and shook his head. “I’m Superman.”

“Oh.” She blinked a few times before shrugging to herself. “Okay. You look just like Bruce. It’s kinda creepy.”

“Yeah, trust me, we know. It’s pretty helpful, though. One time a person tried to assassinate Bruce and ended up fighting me. It wasn’t their day.”

She smiled a little, but it didn’t last very long. She fell back in her pillows and glared at the ceiling. “This sucks.”

“I’m sorry this all happened to you. You’re just a kid.”

She rolled her eyes. She’d long-since given up on denying that something had happened to her. Not because she no longer believed it, but because it wasn’t worth the effort. No one ever believed her when she said it.

(Could she blame them? No. She almost believed it herself just a few moments before. Still annoying, though.)

Instead of saying any of that, though, she brought a grin to her face.

“You and B should switch houses for April Fools. See if anyone notices anything.”

~

She really should have noticed something was up when her coffee didn’t energize her at all.

It had all been going fine. She was making Jason dispose of all the pieces of food she’d used sleight of hand to get away with not eating (she was still a little bitter about him stealing her pen and this was the most she could really do to get back at him, compromised as she was). They made idle conversation, mostly just about how Damian had got himself a new pet cat that he had named BatCat (though, apparently, they had heard him slip up and call him Charles a few times). They debated over how good that name was and the merit of Jason’s suggestion -- BatPussy, of course -- as she drank her third cup of coffee of the day.

It was about halfway through her drink that she began to notice that something was off. She squinted at Jason suspiciously.

“Decaf?” She asked, her voice worryingly sweet.

He raised his eyebrows and tried to look unimpressed despite stepping back a good half-step. “Please, if it was decaf classical conditioning still would’ve made it work at least a little.”

She opened her mouth to retort, then realized he was right. Or, at least, she was pretty sure. She couldn't seem to think of anything against it.

She frowned, looking down at her drink again and swirling the contents around. She drank the rest of it, trying to figure out why exactly it wasn’t working.

Was she already at the point where caffeine had little effect on her again? She didn’t think she was that bad yet… hell, she probably couldn’t be because she was depending on others to give her her fix…

She shook her head slightly and then quickly realized that was a bad idea. Pain stabbed through her skull and she stumbled into Jason. The plastic thermos slipped from her fingertips and went rolling across the floor. Her head crashed into his chest and arms were quick to wrap around her.

“You got shitty coffee, try a different place next time,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

He laughed a little. “Yeah, okay, kid. I’ll be sure to do that.”

She nodded as much as her headache would allow and felt the arms around her slip down to pick her up. She blinked her eyes open blearily and regretted it when the light attempted to murder her via knife to the head.

Heh. Little light particles with little knives.

Wait.

Did she get a concussion? Somehow? Without getting hit?

She buried her face in his shoulder and it was then, as he set her in bed and tucked her in, that she realized what had happened.

“Bitch,” she murmured above whatever drug they had put in her drink.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and she could do little more than scrunch up her nose and vaguely wave him off. Her eyes fell closed again.

~

Marinette woke up a while later.

The first thing she noticed was that the lights were dimmer, something she didn’t have to open her eyes to see because her head wasn’t pounding as much.

Then she realized a person was with her. They had entwined themselves around her, tangled their limbs with hers. They needn’t have bothered, everything felt like lead. She wouldn’t be moving for quite some time.

… why was she being held down? Oh no. That was probably bad, huh?

Marinette made a sound in the back of her throat and started trying to shift away from the person pressed against her back. She needed to see who they were. They didn’t bother to tighten their hold on her, she wasn’t really getting anywhere.

In fact, a hand stopped holding her down. Instead, it came up to pet her hair.

Oh? This was nice.

A voice by her head told her it was all okay. After a moment she realized she recognized that voice. She smiled sleepily. Cass. She liked Cass. She pressed closer to her and was rewarded with a hand rubbing up and down one of her arms.

She nearly fell asleep again. Cass was safe, Marinette was safe… the warmth against her and the soothing touch… of course, it certainly helped that the drug was still in her system and she was exhausted...

But then her mind wandered back to her first question. Why WAS Cass holding her down? Why did they drug her in the first place?

She moved so her hair could block some of the light and then cautiously cracked her eyes open.

The batboys were all moving things inside almost silently. Jason was carrying an entire fridge on his own. Dick and Damian were arguing over the positioning of the table they had just brought in through angry hand motions. Tim and Duke were working together on… was that a gaming set?

And she was being held down because the door was wide open.

Marinette looked at the doorway for just a moment longer. She allowed herself to imagine getting out and swinging through the city with her lasso, allowed herself to pretend she could lay in the grass, allowed herself to believe that she could see the sun and the stars and just breathe fresh air again…

And then she closed her eyes and sunk into Cass’s grip.

What was the point in trying? Even if she could somehow beat out all six of the people in the room with her and get past whatever security Bruce had to have outside of the room all while drugged… then what? No money or idea where she was… and she’d be running from the bats of all people…

Yeah. Useless. She curled up and allowed sleep to take her again.

~

Quite a while later she woke up and blinked a few times when she realized she wasn’t the only person in bed. At first she thought it was just Cass or Tim, they were the most likely culprits, but then she realized everyone had managed to cram themselves onto the bed with her. Her and Cass had gotten brushed to the side of the bed to make space for Tim, Dick, and Damian. Jason had collapsed across the end of the bed -- presumably for space, but Duke was laying half on top of him so that obviously hadn’t worked out.

Marinette smiled faintly and buried her face back into the crook of Tim’s neck.

~

When she woke up again, most of the drug flushed from her system (somehow…?), she thought she was alone.

This was fine. She was able to stretch out and sit up.

She blinked when she saw Damian, who was sitting on her floor and playing a video game.

Huh? Video game?

She looked around her room confusedly. The bats had basically made her a one-room apartment, complete with kitchenette and a tiny study area. Of course, it was much higher quality than the apartment she’d had, with a high tech gaming system and a little dining area and holy shit that was a MINI LIBRARY?

Wild.

“You’re finally up.”

She hummed lightly as an agreement. She crawled over to the end of the bed and smiled when he handed her a twizzler. It was objectively one of the worst candies, but she liked having something to do. She twirled it in her hand idly.

“Do you think… do you think it’s working?”

She frowned confusedly and dropped off the bed to sit beside him on the second beanbag chair. She chanced a quick glance in his direction to gauge how he was feeling... his expression didn’t let anything on other than that he was thinking hard, though she was pretty sure that was about the game.

“Gonna elaborate on that?”

He clicked his tongue. “Are you going to join the Undead Robins Club?”

She grinned at him. “I wasn’t a Robin.”

“You know what I mean.”

Her smile disappeared a little and she trained her eyes on the game. “I don’t know.”

“You know we never will know for sure, right?”

She blinked. She hadn’t expected anyone to acknowledge it. They were the bats, they were never going to chance taking off her glasses because if they were wrong and she WASN’T better… well, it wasn’t the kind of mistake they could easily come back from.

“Yeah, I know,” she said after a few moments.

“Do you care?”

“Doesn't really matter if I do. It won’t change anything.”

He frowned. “That’s not answering my question.”

She bit her cheek. “I… yes. I care. It still doesn’t matter.”

He looked like he was going to argue, but instead he just went back to playing the game.

“Damiiiiiiiii…” she whined and, when he gave a vague grunt to show he was paying attention, she continued with “... shouldn’t I get to play first? It’s mine.”

“You slept in too long,” he said without looking up.

She huffed. “Only ‘cause I was drugged!”

“Unfortunate.”

She got off the beanbag chair and whacked him over the head with it. He barely acknowledged it outside of an annoyed click of his tongue.

She huffed and pulled the chair back to herself to sit again. “Is it two player?”

“Nope.”

“You’re a bitch.”

He clicked his tongue again.

She pouted for a little while longer before looking back at the screen with a smile. “... heard you got a cat named Charles. Wanna talk about him?”

Damian’s face lit up. “Can I?”

“Only if you let me play.”

He looked pained. If he gave it to her then he’d be giving her something she’d want, which was a sibling no-no, but if he didn’t then she probably wouldn’t listen to him gush about his cat. A few moments went by before he reluctantly handed over the controller.

She beamed and scooted her chair over to rest her head on his shoulder. She could feel him stiffen underneath her but, when she didn’t move again outside of what was necessary to play the game, he relaxed again.

“I thought you were going to listen,” he chided lightly when she didn’t take a break between levels.

“I can listen and play.”

Damian sighed a little and shook his head.

“You don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want --.”

“I’m getting to it! So, he’s a black cat that apparently hadn’t been adopted because everyone thought he was evil so the pet store was going --.”

~

Marinette noticed something was up the minute the door opened.

First of all, it was Duke and Damian. That’s all that really needs to be said. Those two together… it’s never a good thing.

Secondly, they were there as Signal and Robin. Most of the time the others avoided even talking about their lives as vigilantes for fear of setting her off in one way or another, but here they were showing up in their suits? No, something weird was going on.

“Hey, Mari, can we skip a fight and you just put a bag over your head and let us pick you up?” Tried Duke.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “You want to…? Huh?”

“We don’t really have much time to explain. I’ll tell you on the way.”

Damian held up a potato sack and some twine, which really wasn’t all that encouraging.

She hesitated. “... what’s something only you two would know?”

“Really?” Said Damian with more than a little exasperation.

“Hey, we’re all bats here. I’m not moving until you prove you’re who you say you are.”

(Technically, if they were really Duke and Damian, they could fight her and do it anyways. She probably couldn't beat both of them at once. Still, that kind of fight would hurt all of them and she really didn’t want to have to do it at the moment.)

Duke hesitated before shrugging. “Your favorite ice cream flavor is mint. Which I don’t understand. Just brush your teeth if you like that taste so much.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Alright, you’re who you say you are. Robin?”

“… early on I lied and said that Nightwing’s real hero name was actually BatNightwing to mess with you both.”

She frowned. “I forgot about that. You’re a dick.”

“No, Nightwing’s a Dick. He’s a Damian.”

Marinette was THIS CLOSE to fighting them anyways.

But she didn’t. She was kinda curious about where all this was going. So, she allowed them to bind her hands and slip a bag over her head. Arms wrapped around her -- she didn’t really care who it was -- and she was lifted off the ground. Then, they were walking.

Part of her wondered if this was some kind of test. They were checking to see how compliant she was or how likely she would be to run once outside. Maybe they had Superman on call in case she tried to escape.

She really couldn’t tell.

She didn’t think that they had any reason to take her out of the perfectly safe and well-stocked place they had put her in.

Maybe her location had been compromised and they were moving her to a backup? No, that didn’t make sense. Duke made sense for transport, Damian didn’t. Damian was one of the worst fighters in the family (he was in no way BAD at fighting, of course, it was just a byproduct of being in the game the shortest amount of time and not being a meta) and he was the second most likely person to end up fighting her after Jason. What the fuck?

Wait, Duke said he’d explain on the way.

“What’s going on?”

“New idea on how to bring you back,” said Duke simply.

Well, she guessed that was more information than she’d previously had. She’d take it for now.

She heard a quiet whooshing noise and frowned confusedly, only to feel herself get set down… somewhere. She felt carpeting underneath her, which meant she was in… a house? No. A car, she thought as she noticed the quiet hum of an engine. She’d been put in the fucking trunk. She kicked out as much as she could without knowing exactly where they were and gave a cry of protest, but then the lid was clicked over her head and she was thrown into uncomfortably complete silence.

She scowled to herself. She shouldn’t have thrown her spife at Superman, it would have been really useful right then. She tested the bindings against her hands and winced at how tight they were. Did they really use zip ties? Those were notoriously bad for circulation.

… oh. Yeah. She was dead. That actually wasn’t that bad, then.

Still annoying. Hard to get out of. Assholes. She wondered if it was worth dislocating her arms…

Yeah. Probably. If she could get out then she would be OUT.

She flipped herself onto her stomach. She pulled her feet up to her arms and then started pushing back. Her body strained in protest and she bit down on the front of the bag over her head to stop herself from making any sounds.

And then she felt a pop in her left shoulder and a flare of pain and the makeshift gag wasn’t enough to hold back her sobs. Her arm throbbed and it was only made worse when they reached the city proper and the roads started getting choppy. Every little bump in the road sent a new wave of pain rolling through her and all she could do was ride it out.

They started hitting smoother roads what felt like hours later... it was kind of concerning because she had no clue where they could be, those were uncommon in Gotham, but at least she no longer felt like she was going to die every few seconds.

She took a few seconds to bring her breathing back to normal before she started slowly wiggling her arms out under her butt and legs and then they were in front of her. Great. She picked herself up as much as she could in the tiny space, checked her angle mentally, relaxed her muscles, and then dropped down on her shoulder to get it back in place.

She breathed out a sigh of relief. It felt weird and still kind of hurt but at least it was mostly better.

She pulled the bag off of her head and relished in the slightly fresher air.

She looked down at the zip ties on her wrists and she sighed a little. Time to do that hack that looked stupid but actually worked if the kidnappers were stupid enough to leave you alone.

She brought her feet up, untied the laces of her shoes, and tied them back around the ties. Then she set to work trying to saw at the zip tie.

She paused when she heard the low rumbling of a plane. Were they near an airport? Oh. That was going to be a problem. She went faster.

Unfortunately, Marinette didn’t get very far before there was a click and the trunk opened.

She cried out in pain at the sudden light and squeezed her eyes shut, turning to press her face into the carpeted interior.

Hands grabbed her and pulled her out of the trunk. Before she could do much to look around so she could get her bearings and make herself a portal, the bag was forced over her head again and a strong grip on her arm (the good one, thankfully) kept her from pulling it off again. Then someone knelt in front of her and fixed her shoelaces.

“Really, NightMare?” Duke said, unimpressed.

“In my defense, I was left unsupervised.”

Damian scoffed.

Someone picked her up again and she sighed as they carried her along. They were definitely at an airport. She could hear people milling about. She was sure it was Gotham, too; she could feel a few stares, but most people seemed comfortable with the vigilantes among them.

Then came the normal airport stuff. Walking. Some arguing over whether she counted as luggage or if she could go through the metal detector with them. Sitting. A little chatting with civilians. More walking. More sitting. Very light chatter, just formalities and asking for drinks (Duke, who she figured out was the person carrying her, slipped a box of orange juice up her bag so she could have something). And then they were in the air.

After some time in the air the bag and zip ties were removed. She kept her eyes closed to let them adjust to light naturally and instead focused on rubbing feeling back into her hands.

One English alphabet later, she opened her eyes.

They were in a private plane (or was it a jet?), which explained why it was as quiet as it was. Damian was drinking a glass of water and reading something on his phone. Duke was nibbling at some complimentary pretzels and working a Rubix Cube. They both glanced in her direction from time to time, but they seemed pretty confident that she couldn’t do anything while they were in the air (which was true, but annoying).

She looked around a little more and found that there were no other bats.

“Um… where’re…?” She trailed off, unsure.

They stopped glancing in her direction, ignoring her and her question. The frown that had been on her face since pretty much when they’d first taken her from the room deepened.

“Do they… do they know what’s going on?”

The silence spoke volumes.

She rested her head in her hand. “I’m going to need something stronger than a juice box for this.”

Duke sighed but called a friendly looking woman inside to get her some wine. Marinette and Duke sipped at a glass each (Damian wasn’t allowed any, something Marinette took a little too much joy in). She scrutinized the two over the rim of her glass.

“Are you going to explain or let me guess? Because letting me guess is going to end up with me assuming you’re doing something way worse than you actually are.”

Damian sighed a little. “It’s hard to explain.”

“We’re in a plane. I’m going to guess we have time. Start talking.”

“We drugged them all -- except Orphan, she’s just out doing patrols and won’t know what’s going on for a good few hours -- and grabbed you.”

Duke gave Damian a pleading look to make him continue for them.

Damian, reluctantly, put down his phone to talk. “Signal and I have an idea on how to bring you back from the dead. The others won’t like it, especially not Red Hood, so we’re making the executive decision to not ask.”

Marinette didn’t know a lot about when Jason had been resurrected, it was a sensitive subject so it was avoided pretty much at all costs. All she’d gathered was that it was a rather messy experience for everyone involved.

She rested her head on her hand and then looked back down at her drink. She snatched the bottle from the table and, when Duke protested, set him a glare and started drinking directly from it. They were actually going to bring her back through probably shady means. She was NOT drunk enough for this shit.

~

She got stuffed in a suitcase when they left, which was extremely insulting (and a little embarrassing, if she were honest).

She rested her head against the side of the suitcase and listened to the dull thrum of people talking on the other side. She vaguely recognized the language, both Nino and Damian both spoke it when frustrated, but the words were all Greek to her.

Well, they were all Arabic, but you get the point.

~

She didn’t even realize she had been asleep until she was awoken. Rather abruptly. The zipper for the suitcase was opened and she tumbled out. Marinette cursed in French as she hit the ground and laid there, her entire body aching from not moving for so long. She hadn’t known her face could get pins and needles, she wished she could go back to her blissful ignorance.

“Are you sure about this? You want to save her?” A woman’s voice said above her, sounding a little skeptical.

Marinette forced herself to roll over so she could glare at whoever it was, she knew when she was being insulted, and then she blinked up at the new person.

A tall woman with dark skin and hair and a body to die for stood above her, hands on her hips.

“Holy shit, Dami. You got terrible genes. She’s gorgeous and you’re… you? What?”

Duke hid laughter behind his hand and Damian scoffed.

Amusement flickered behind Talia’s ‘I could kill you before you could even scream’ expression. “I’ve changed my mind. I like her.”

“Cool,” said Marinette as she quickly pushed herself to her feet. Her body wasn’t ready for that, but that was the least of her concerns. The pretty lady was ushering her along and Marinette wasn’t going to hold her up if she could help it.

“How did you die?” Talia said, which was an interesting choice for conversation.

Marinette shrugged, though, unconcerned. “I don’t know, really, there wasn’t this ‘oh, wow, I’m dead’ moment. My guess is I either drowned in acid or died of dehydration at some point. Does it change anything or…?”

“No. Just curious.”

“Oh. Good.”

“... do you not know why you’re here?” Asked Talia carefully after a moment’s contemplation.

Marinette shook her head. “Nah, they’ve been avoiding telling me. I assume it’s painful.”

“... yes. Very.”

The four lapsed into silence after that.

Marinette felt weirdly on edge as they walked through the facility, her hands rubbing the goosebumps that were prickling along her arms. The further they walked, the more on edge she felt. They were approaching something unnatural, something so undeniably WRONG, and she needed to GO.

But Damian and Duke were behind her, probably sensing her unease, and running ahead would only get her there faster… so she walked.

She bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to ground herself.

But, the moment they stepped into the room, she froze.

Green water. That apparently hurts.

Acid.

“FUCK.”

Duke was ready for her to run, apparently, stood in front of the only exit and ready for a fight before she could even get a full step away from the hell that awaited her.

“No no no no no no wait it’s fine I actually don’t mind being dead it’s fine guys please --.”

Damian grabbed her arms and she choked out a sob,

“Damian god damn it I was kidding about the mom thing you’re perfectly attractive or whatever I promise I really didn’t think it would hurt you that much we don’t need to do this let’s tALK IT OUT --!”

“It’s not about that --!”

Duke managed to get a hold on one of her legs and lifted and all she had to struggle against either of them was a foot and she was SO fucked --.

“PLEASE DUKE PLEASE I DON’T KNOW WHAT I DID BUT I PROMISE I CAN BE BETTER YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THIS PLEASE PLEASE LET ME GO I’LL BE FINE WE CAN FIGURE SOMETHING OUT PLEASE --.”

Talia grabbed her last leg and she sobbed as she thrashed around uselessly. They started dragging her towards the acid. Nothing to do no way to run no help in sight no --.

“PLEASE! I PROMISE I’LL BE BETTER PLEASE JUST LET ME GO!”

And they did. They let her go and she fell into the acid.

[annabethy]

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow day 18: presents

Character A and Character B save Christmas,, percabeth

Percy has never felt as much horror as he does right now. He’s staring at the back of his closet, in complete terror, his heart dropping to the floor. He can’t breathe or hear or see because there’s supposed to be ten presents and he counts nine.

There was a doll missing. An expensive, eating, talking doll that was all his daughter wanted in life. He swears that he had gotten his daughter the present she wanted most, except apparently, he didn’t because it’s not there.

He tries to think about what to do, but the reality of the situation is he really can’t do anything. He’s pretty sure every four-year-old girl on this planet wanted the doll he thought he had sitting in the closet for Christmas. There’s approximately zero chance he’s going to be able to get his hands on it only five days before Christmas, so. He’s screwed.

Percy thinks he has to at least try anyways. He’d nearly ruined Christmas last year because he hadn’t known how to wrap presents, and his neighbor had to help him at three in the morning, which was embarrassing to say the least. He’s determined to not fail that badly this year, and that’s exactly why he’s standing back outside that same neighbor’s door after dropping his daughter off at school.

“I need help,” is the first thing he says when the door swings open.

“Good morning to you too,” Annabeth says.

“I messed up,” he breathes, but he steps forwards to plant a quick kiss on her lips. “I need your help. Desperately.”

“What did you do?”

“You know that doll that my kid’s been talking about for months?”

“The one I have sitting in the back of my car for mine, I’m sure.”

He pauses. “You have one?!”

“You don’t?”

He whines, “I thought I did but turns out I completely forgot to get it.”

She laughs in his face.

“This isn’t funny. This is a Christmas crisis.”

“Yeah. You fucked up.”

“You’re my girlfriend. Aren’t you supposed to help me?”

“Five days before Christmas?” She snorts. “Good luck.”

Percy runs his fingers through his hair, frustrated. “Our girls are at school, so I need you to go shopping with me.”

“What good am I going to be for a doll that you’re going to have to murder someone to get your hands on it?” “Well, you tend to murder people with your eyes. It used to be scary, but now it’s useful.”

“Your master plan is to unleash me in a store so I can commit homicide over a toy?”

“I don’t care what you do as long as we get that doll, so come on.” He waves his keys in her face. “Get in the car.”

She gives him a humored look and opens her door wider. “Come in. I’m going to need a minute.”

Annabeth actually ends up needing twenty minutes, something he helpfully reminds her of as she’s getting dressed. His rush definitely doesn’t stop him from enjoying the view, but the shirt that she throws at his face does.

By the time they’re finally out of the house, they are on a mission. Annabeth’s sitting in the passenger seat of the car, and as Percy rightfully predicted, she is out for blood. Her phone is in her hand as she switches from app to app in search of anyone who has the toy.

Percy’s hand grips the steering wheel tightly. Driving in New York in December is not something he’s ever enjoyed doing with the way people drive like animals, but Christmas is in the line, and he too has turned into an animal.

“Any luck?” he asks hopefully, drifting down the highway.

“A store an hour away says they have it in stock,” she says. “Only one left, so drive fast.”

“Make that twenty minutes,” he says, and then he’s stepping on the gas. It’s a lot of switching in and out of lanes because people don’t understand that he has places to be. Every two seconds, Annabeth screaming out a status update, which has startled him enough to almost crash at least twice.

“It’s still in stock!”

“Yes, thank you babe, because I was sure that it had been sold within the last thirty seconds.”

Annabeth mutters something under his breath, but there’s a faint smile on his face. Despite being as stressed as he is that he’s failed as a father for the second year in a row, he surely loves spending time with her like this. She’s such a cutthroat person, and it warms his heart.

“Oh, someone bought it.”

Percy groans. “Of course they did.”

“Keep driving this way. There’s a store thirty minutes ahead that might have it.” Another beat passes. “Never mind.”

“She’s going to hate me,” he says.

“Probably. Even I know it’s the one thing she wanted more than anything.”

“Way to rub it in.”

“I do it because I love you.”

He feels pretty upset, but the words raise his mood instantly. If his daughter disowns him, at least he has the love of his life to help him through it. “I love you too, even though you like to tease me.” “Just keeping you on your toes.” She shifts in the seat and points further down the road. “Take this exit. We’re going to do this old fashioned.”

He listens. “Old fashioned?”

She grins. “We’re going to a toy store.”

The second they walk in, Percy feels like sneezing. It’s a bit dustier than he would like, and the lightest isn’t the best, but there aren’t many people there, so he thinks he at least has a chance of finding the toy. Annabeth slides her hand into his as they stroll around, and he pulls her closer into his side. He tries to keep his eyes looking for the toy, but he quickly learns that it wasn’t going to help. The toys here didn’t seem to be the most up-to-date, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s come to terms that that toy is just not happening. He’ll probably end up compensating for it with an overload of different toys, so he uses this time instead to enjoy time alone with Annabeth. They’re usually with their kids whenever they’re together, and their girls have quickly become best friends (much to his delight — he thinks he might want to marry Annabeth), so it’s nice to be alone outside of the house.

Not that he minds being inside the house alone either, if you know what he means. He thinks there should be a healthy balance.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly, bumping his shoulder. He shrugs. “Just disappointed. She was so excited for it.”

“Let’s go try another place then,” she says, turning in his arms. He instinctively wraps his arms around her waist, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

“Let’s just go home and snuggle instead,” he says. “I don’t think we’re going to be finding that toy anytime soon.”

“I don’t mind snuggles,” she tells him, smiling. “But let’s try one more place, yeah? Or we can get something to eat?”

It’s not until she mentions food that he realizes how hungry he really is. He doesn’t remember eating at all that day, too in a rush in the morning, and the afternoon being no different. He kisses her softly again. “Let’s go on a Christmas lunch date.”

That Christmas lunch date ends up being in the front seats of his car, but he’s not picky. They’re in the parking lot of wawa, Annabeth with mac n cheese in her hands, and Percy with a cheeseburger. As she eats, Percy keeps his eyes on her. Everything she does is so cute, including eating, and he doesn’t know if it’s normal to feel this way about someone. Her cheeks are still hinted pink from when they’d been outside ten minutes prior, and she’s still wearing a knitted hat. She looks so warm that he desperately wants to pull her onto his lap and just hold her.

“What are you looking at?” she asks, spoon hovering in front of her mouth.

Percy smiles at her fondly. “You.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you,” he says. “And you’re so pretty all the time.”

“All the time?”

“All the time,” he confirms, setting his food aside so he can lean towards her, nuzzling his face in her neck. He kisses the soft skin twice. “When you wake up, and when you fall asleep, you’re always so perfect.”

“You watch me sleep?” she teases.

“Sometimes,” he admits. “You don’t stay over every night. Otherwise, I would cuddle you to sleep every day.”

“Sounds dreamy.”

“It would be.” He pulls his head off of her so he can look her in the eyes. Overwhelming love stares back at him, and for a moment, he cannot think of anything except her. She’s so beautiful and perfect, and it’s taken him this long to find her. She’s there for him, and she loves his daughter, and he loves hers. She drops everything to go on a run to save Christmas with him, and he’s in love with her.

He wants to fall asleep to her and wake up to her. Not just sometimes, but every night and every morning. He wants to wake up on Christmas morning to their kids bouncing on their bed to wake their parents up, to share a look with her that screams ‘tired but in love’ with each other and the life they’ve created.

“Move in with me,” he blurts out.

Annabeth laughs. “What?”

“I’m serious,” he says, sitting up straighter. “Let’s move in together. I love you, and I want to spend the rest of our lives together, and… I want to marry you someday.”

She blinks, and he feels panic take over for a second before she smiles again, teeth sparkling and white. “Percy… are you being serious?” He laughs. “I am.”

“You want to move in with me?”

“I do.”

Annabeth stares at him for a second, unmoving, before she’s rushing forwards, pressing her lips to his. He responds enthusiastically, his heart fluttering, having him feel lightheaded in the best way possible. “Let’s move in together,” she mutters against him, and Percy can’t stop smiling. Teeth clash, but he can’t find it in him to quell the grin.

He’s pretty sure people are walking by outside the car wondering why they’re practically making out in the car, but they stay like that anyways until they can no longer breathe.

“I love you,” he says. “Thank you for trying to help me save Christmas.”

“Help you save Christmas?”

“Mission objective failed. There’s going to be no doll under that tree.”

“Okay, so…” Annabeth’s tongue presses out slightly between her lips as she bites down to smother a smile. “What if I told you that I actually have two of them?”

“I’m sorry. You what?”

“I had a feeling you might forget, so I just got two of them.”

“Oh my god.”

“I know I’m a god.”

“I can’t believe you let me drive around the city for hours for no reason!”

“It wasn’t for no reason! I wanted to spend time with you!”

“We could have spent time together doing something more romantic than panicked Christmas shopping!”

“I didn’t want to do something else,” she says. “This was perfect. More realistic.”

“You’re a little tease, you know that?”

She pokes his cheek, and he nips lightly at her finger. “Yeah, but you still want to move in with me anyways.”

“Now that you’re going to give me the present that saves Christmas? How could I not?”

She leans across the center console so she can kiss him properly. “You could always just marry me instead.”

“The thing is I’m actually considering it,” he says playfully, though he’s telling the truth. “I could get down on one knee right now.”

She grins and kisses him again. “Next Christmas,” she says, sounding a lot like a promise. He doesn’t mind waiting until next Christmas. He has everything he needs right here in front of him. “Next Christmas, I’m going to make you my wife.”

Annabeth’s fingers run through his hair and pull him in closer. “I’ll be waiting,” she says, and Percy just knows they’re going to live an amazing life together.

The person he fell in love with is the person that helped him save Christmas, and he doesn’t mind one bit.

[some-dr-writings]

Kiibo helps Reader with burnt fingers wash their hair

·       You sighed in defeat waking up that morning. It was shower day, the day you’ve been dreading. But it had to be done. You could take care of most of yourself just fine, but your hair… it was rather difficult to care for it with only one hand, so you’d have to use your burnt fingers, not matter how much it hurt.

·       You glanced to the corner of the room, finding Kiibo was still shut off, recharging. Though you appreciated Kiibo helping you get your work done before your deadline, given your work became much more difficult with all the fingers of your right hand being burnt, it… it felt weird having him stay up all night with you, it was your work after all, but Kiibo insisted on helping, stating he’d could stay up for a full week without needing to recharge, which evidently was true. Sometimes you were jealous of him. He could recharge and not need to eat or shower, he could just keep going without needing to stop… or feel the pain of burnt fingers. Though he likely had other things to maintain in place of those you knew.

·       You winced, feeling the water pelt down on your burnt hand. You wondered how it still was so tender. Seeing your hand uncontrollably, lightly tremble you tried keeping it away from the water or walls or door or anything else.

·       On unsteady feet you leaned against the wall, exhaustion threatening to knock you out at any moment. With a yawn you mindlessly reached out for a shampoo bottle, only to yelp out, slipping and falling. You braced for impact, landing on your hands and arms. “Y/N!” You heard more than your name being called, but it was near impossible to make out what the words were amongst the crashing of water. Shakily you sat up, using your uninjured, though slightly stinging hand to shut off the water. “I-I’m okay, Kiibo!” “From that crashing sound to your shaking voice I have reason to believe otherwise!” “J-just tired. Go back to recharging.” “… I realize this may be strange to ask, but can I help in some way?” You clenched your teeth, feeling this pain course through your fingers. “I can handle it. Just have my hair left.” “But won’t that hurt? You told me how bad it was last time.” “Well… I don’t exactly have a choice if I wanna stay clean, now do I.” “…” You were just about to turn the water back on when an unexpected and confusing request was made of you. “Y/N come to the kitchen and bring your hair care supplies!” “… Huh?” “I’ll wash your hair!” Baffled, yet intrigued, you decided to go along with this. Not before quickly drying off and getting dressed that was.

·       Entering the kitchen, you found Kiibo had set up a chair before the kitchen sink. “Ah, so we’re trying this salon style.” “Yes! Just leave everything to me!” “But Kiibo… Do you know how to care for hair?” “… There are instructions on the bottles, right?” You chuckled as you took your seat, seeing Kiibo turn slightly sheepish at your question. “It’s simple, I’ll tell you.”

·       You leaned your head back into the sink. “Well, the first step is wetting the hair, and that’s already taken care of. Though we will have to rinse later and you’ll need some practice so nothing get’s in my eyes.” “What will happen if it gets into your eyes?” “It’ll sting, a lot.” “I see!” Seeing his slightly flustered yet determined expression made you smile. No matter what, Kiibo always tried his best in everything.

·       He first tested the kitchen spray hose away from you, wanting to see how much pressure it had. Then slowly pointed it towards you rewetting your damp hair. “First the shampoo, you massage that into the scalp.” He looked over the bottles, making sure he got the right one. “Oh, about the size of the palm of your hand is enough. It doesn’t take much.” “Alright. Is there anything I should know, any techniques?” “No, no, you just rub it in, nothing complicated.” At first his movements were hesitant and stiff, but he quickly relaxed, and he slowly worked higher and higher to the crown of your head. He kept glancing to your face making sure he didn’t accidentally get any shampoo near your eyes. It was pleasant hearing the soft foaming sound and feeling those metallic fingers massage into you. You’d think it’d hurt, but Kiibo used a light pressure and used the pads of his fingers, not the tips so with more surface the pressure was more spread out. He even occasionally asked if he was hurting you or not.

·       “Next we have the conditioner, that more so goes in the middle and lower part of the hair to help detangle it and make brushing easier.” “Oh! So that’s how you get the tiny knots out!” “Exactly. With a brush alone it just gets caught and tightens them.”

·       As he worked the conditioner in, he seemed to stop at some point. “I never realized how heavy hair could be when wet. Even without the shampoo and conditioner it’s rather hefty.” “Your hair is not the same?” “My hair is made of synthetic fibers and some metals. Thanks to some carefully placed magnets and a few other things, it can be styled and stay in place without need of hair products!” “Is that why your hair can stay in place even in the harshest of wind or never fall in rain, yet still gently move with the breeze?” “Yes! It can move a little but not much unless I want it too when styling.” “Huh… So what does it feel like? Human hair or something else?” “… Y/N that’s robophobic!” “Hey! Excuse me if I forget you can’t feel different textures! Actually… Can’t Iruma or Dr. Idabashi give you a function so you could feel stuff?” Kiibo was silent for a moment. “Let me guess, I’m still being robophobic.” Kiibo kneeled down beside you. “No. Not the last part, but it’s true that I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” You looked to him with sparkling eyes. “I get to pat Kiibo.” You eagerly pet his hair. “It’s so weird… and silky soft.” There was some resistance, you could pet it, but in general it could all stay in place, so any attempts at playfully ruffling his hair would be in vain. “It’s like… it reminds me of that feeling when you hold those really thin chained necklaces, it’s cool, and seems soft despite knowing it’s metal. Feels like that.”

·       “Now all that’s left is rinsing it all out.” “… Huh?” You couldn’t help but laugh seeing how baffled Kiibo was. “H-hey! Don’t laugh at me!” “Sorry, but that expression.” You managed to repress it to a chuckle before continuing to speak. “Just leaving it all in is not healthy. So we gotta wash it out.” “Okay. So… it’s like washing clothes? You put the soap in but also wash it out.” “Yeah, just like that!” “I understand.” Kiibo held the tips of your hair in one hand, the other the sprayer hose but something kept him from pressing the button. “… Uh, tell me if I get soap in your eyes. Those are very delicate, and I don’t want to be responsible for damaging them! You can’t be as easily repaired as me.” “I’ll scream. That should suffice.” He flinched, momentarily turning the hose on, startling himself. He slammed it back into it’s place, fearing accidentally turning it on again. “DON’T SCREAM! You’ll startle me and maybe things will just get worse!” “Alright, fine, I won’t. I’ll just tell you.” Kiibo sighed, crossing his arms. “Thank you. Now, back to washing.”

·       He gently ran his fingers through your hair, making sure he washed out every part. He was careful to avoid any knots, knowing pulling on hair could be especially painful. He was here to make life easier for you, the last thing he wanted was to hurt you, you were getting enough of that from your fingers. Your hair absolutely fascinated him. It had this glossy shine even after washing the conditioner out. It reminded him of a waterfall how it just flowed down so prettily. Never before had he found something similar to it. It was soothing and almost fun going through it, though his anxiety spiked as he worked his way to the crown of your head faster than he had anticipated. He was very careful to not allow the water to get to your face.

·       “Now pat it down so we don’t get water on the floor. Then we just brush, and we’re done!” Kiibo did as told, drying your hair out enough for it to not drip everywhere. You scooched the chair forward so Kiibo could have enough room. “When brushing you need to start from the bottom. If you go from the top, you’ll just tighten the knots.” “That makes sense. I’ll start from the bottom then.” As he brushed, he used one hand to hold a higher part of your hair, hoping that could negate any accidental pulling, but… “Ow!” “Sorry! I’m so sorry!” “Kiibo, it’s alright. I’m fine.” “Are you sure?” “Yes, I am.” “Should I know of anything else?” “Uh… Nothing I can think of.” Hesitantly he went back to work, a part of him fearful of hurting you again. He carefully brushed through it, his nervousness soon subsiding. He found himself getting lost in detangling those knots and the soft sound of your hair getting combed through. When he reached your scalp he opted to brush through with his fingers, thinking the bristles of the brush may hurt you. It… was intriguing seeing his fingers part your hair, getting him to realize just how thin hairs were. It got him to wonder if he truly got all the knots out.

·       “Heh, having fun?” “Uh- Huh?” “You’ve been done for a while now, but you keep brushing.” His whole face flushed a bright pink and his face covering shot up, clamping over his mouth. “I, I, I-I, I’m just being thorough! I don’t want to mess up!” “Kiibo, there no need to be embarrassed.” “I’M NOT EMBARASED!” You could help but burst into laughter only making that blush on Kiibo darken to a bright red. “Well, then you don’t have to stop… it felt nice.” “It felt nice?” His embarrassed tone faded, intrigued by your words. “Yeah, like a kind of scalp massage, but not.” “Then allow me.” You hummed in delight, melting into his touch. You loved this. “Thank you, Kiibo. For everything. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t.” “I’m just glad to help. Now…” You looked to him in confusion feeling he had placed his hand on your shoulders. “I’ve heard shoulder massages are very relaxing. Relax, and let yourself fall asleep. You’ve been up for a week straight. We’ve gotten all your work done, you’ve taken care of yourself so there’s nothing left to tend to except for your energy, so, like everything else, allow me to assist with this.” “Kiibo, you’re too kind.” “… If that is the case, I don’t see what that has to do with this.” “… Well, you didn’t reject the compliment, so I’ll take it.” “Take what, exactly?” “Never mind. I’m just tired.” He smiled, seeing your eyes already starting to droop. “I’ll get started then.”

[bluebellhairpin]

No Feelin’

Fantasy AU!Levi Ackerman X Fem!Reader

Part Two - No More

A/N: I’m so glad to be a part of this. I had a lot of fun, and I have always liked the ‘Enemies to Lovers’ dynamic. I just hope this doesn’t got out of the rules - I didn’t actually read them - so if it does .... ‘oopsie?’ - Nemo

Summary: Service to the king became tiring. Someone rose up and became an enemy to the crown - stealing a cured sword, that gives untamable power to the wielder. The Kings Captain finds himself positioned between her and what she wants. 

Warnings: Violence. Smexual tension. Blood. Alludes to Dom!Reader. 

Listening to: ‘VILLAIN’ by K/DA (slowed) - ‘Am I really that bad if l love to make you mad?’

Discord Event Masterlist

Masterlist 

“Take it off. Slowly.” 

“What, this little thing?” You took out the long blade, it’s sheath still hanging at your side. It reflected a matching bright red glow into your eyes, a shine he could see from across the room. “I didn’t think it’d worry you that much, Captain of the Guard.” 

Levi could tell you were just playing with him. Your voice was smooth like honey, and richer than the king’s gold hoard. It sent a shiver down his spine - or maybe that was just the cold in the room? - but your voice paired with your eyes told him that it was not the cold. 

You never used to be like that.

“It doesn’t belong to you.” he said, raising his voice as if that would make you do as he says, “So I’ll say it again - take it off, and give it to me. I may be lenient if you comply -”

“- Blah, blah blah. Comply, do as I say.” You cut him off, twirling the sword around your fingers before the hilt fell back into your palm again. “Doesn’t that ever bore you? It sure as hell bored me.” 

He stiffened as you started walking across the room, passing the columns and getting closer and closer. Leaving the doorway behind and cornering him at the throne. The red sword dragged behind you, metal scraping against stone, and he grit his teeth at the sound. 

It left a glowing red streak in its wake. 

“Surely you know the power this holds,” You smiled as you looked up at where he stood, one of your feet resting casually on the first step up to the throne. “That's why you want it back.” 

“It’ll corrupt you.” He hissed, pulling out his own sword in counter. “‘Blood to bone, and bone to stone; The price of the throne, it will leave you alone’, that’s what the sword says. You’ll never come back from where it’s taking you, and you’ll have no pity from anyone.” 

You raised the blade, studying the foreign language, before tapping your elongated fingernails - to him they looked more like metal talons - along each letter with a laugh. Then your eyes flicked up to his, the crimson color only brighter now that you were closer. 

“That’s what everyone thinks it says, yes.” you said, waving the sword around as you gestured, “But that’s just petty human insight. This was carved by gods, made to be wielded by only the strongest of the worthy. No human would understand what that means.” 

Levi looked down at the weapon, eyeing the words.

“Dare I ask what it does it say?” His words made your grin widen, lips pulling back to reveal sharp canines.

“So curious.” You said, walking up a step with each syllable. “So adorable.” 

You raised your sword to him, and he quickly moved his own to block it - otherwise it would’ve been uncomfortably close to his neck. You stepped forward again, pressing closer and adding more pressure. 

If his own sword didn’t have magic in it, he was sure it would’ve been turned to ash. He could feel the heat from your blade already. 

“So tell me Little Captain, which tunnel did your king use to run away?” He sucked in a sharp breath. Only the royals and their most trusted knew about the passages. And yet you did too. “Ohhh, you are just so cute trying to think on your feet.” You laughed. 

“I’ll die first.” he said, pushing you off with a grate of metal against metal and making you stumble back down a few steps. “You want nothing but power. Just like any storybook villain. And storybook villains always lose.” 

You settled yourself again, tutted at him. 

“And yet I’m the one to draw first blood.” you said, mocking eyes catching his as you watched a slither of dull red drip down from the tip of your sword, “All bark and no bite.” 

He rose a hand, touching his cheek. It erupted in pain at the contact, blinding his right eye. He felt it burning, the heat running through his veins to settle a dull ache in his chest. 

“You’re lucky it wasn’t deep,” you said, speaking as if consoling a child with a scuffed knee, “Deeper than that and you could be out of commission.” 

His own sword lit up, the engraving glowing white as it helped to counter the tainted cells you gave him. The sight in his eye returned first, and he lunged down at you. 

“You talk too much.” he grunted, swinging a large arch at you, pushing you further from the throne and back towards the exit.

“What, you want me to put my mouth to better use?” you countered, catching his legs with your foot and held your sword to his throat. He fell on this back, winded, and his own sword was just out of reach. 

As your sword dug into the stonework, and left a dull warmth at his neck, you stood over him, lowering to kneel on one knee above his torso. 

“For you that would be an honor.” You practically purred out the words, eyes lazy, and any half-minded person would be weak at their knees for such an opportunity. But you weren’t exactly the healthy kind of alluring. Not right now, anyway. 

“You’re a temptress.” He said, hand slowly reaching out for his castaway sword. 

“The best kind.” You leaned forward, head level with his, and only inches apart. 

“I’ll kill you.” He only needed to reach a little further then he’d -

“Ah ah,” your hand shot out, voice soft and hushed like you were telling a secret, and grabbed his wrist, pinning it down, “Nobody can kill me.” 

He reared up, kneeing you in the stomach, and used your moment of surprise to grab his sword, roll you both over, and pin you down in turn. He held your arms down, pinning them under his knees, and held his sword at your throat. You smiled.

“A fire? Very nice -”

“Shut up.” his eyes narrowed, and his sword pressed into your skin, “I could kill you right now. Spill your blood all over the stone pavers. I’ll do it. Slit your throat so damn clean that they wouldn’t even see the cut once they’ve got the blood cleaned up!” 

Your smile faltered, but your eyes darkened. 

“So kill me.” You said, challenging him. “Kill me, and don’t regret it.” 

He looked down at you, jaw clenching, his knuckles whitened as he held the blade tighter. But he hesitated too long. Why was he waiting? Was he showing you mercy?

You jolted your legs up behind him, linking your ankles and hooking them around his neck. Then you slammed down - cracking his head back against the stone - and rocked yourself up between his legs to then wrap your hand around his throat, fingers splayed up onto his chin.

“You should know better than to wait that long, Little Captain.” You brushed your nose with his, looking down at him though lidded eyes. He looked delirious. Like he was only half awake. With a knock to the head like that he should be dead.

You looked over to his hands, finding his sword lit up like the night sky, the energy making the veins in his fingers and arm glow. You wondered how interesting that was - his sword could heal, while yours corrupted. The irony.

“You’re crazy.” he slurred, somehow managing to look right at you despite the fog in his eyes, “You’ll never win.”

You turned back to him, almost laughing into his mouth.

“I already have,” you said, “I have you right where I want you.” 

“Tell me what it says.” he said. 

“The sword?” you mused. Lifting the sword up to rest between you, Levi was lost in a daze between the red metal and the blood of your eyes, both reflecting off the other and making him dizzy. Was he seeing double? 

“‘From chaos to healing, is where to gain the sealing; Where they be kneeling, you’ll have no feeling.’ I have an advantage, Levi Ackerman.” You said, and for a sweet moment he had clarity, but like a dream after you wake it was gone. “Find your advantage.” 

You then stood, letting him go as you trailed your sword down his front before just walking away.

“Then find me,” you turned back to him, “If you’re brave enough.”

[negandarylsatisfaction]

[SUMMARY: Freya and Freddy are a married couple who are new to the sanctuary. Negan cant help himself as he becomes obsessed with wanting Freya to be his and makes her become his wife.]

[Obviously not a healthy relationship but it was a requested fan fic, enjoy.]

Negan and Freya.

Today was the day you would meet Negan. A man named Simon found your husband, Freddy and yourself with a few others. You were told you would all be used to help run the sanctuary in return for shelter and food. Not having anywhere else to stay, your husband thought this would be the perfect place. The two of you stood hand in hand as a man entered the room that you figured to be Negan. He held a barbed wired bat as he made his way in. Introducing himself in a very arrogant manner, it wasnt hard to tell why he ran things here. He began expressing what he expected from all of you, his eyes roaming through the seven people before him until he saw you. The sight of you instantly making him stumble over his own words.

"Well excuse me." He slowly made his way towards you, the look in his eye making you nervous. What was going through his mind? Freddy tightened his grip on your hand as Negan was face to face with you.

"I dont think I caught your pretty little name."

"Freya." You responded confidently, his eyes devoured you, it was obvious he liked what he was looking at. Indeed he did, until he noticed you held hands with the man beside you.

"Aw, you must be the boyfriend huh?" You could hear the sarcasm in his tone and did not like it.

"My husband." You corrected him making him look back at you before turning back to Freddy with a smile.

"Mm...I dont blame you one bit. Got yourself a nice piece of ass." He could tell Freddy did not like what was being said and chuckled.

"Would you mind if I borrowed her for just a moment?"

"I actually do-"

"Ah. You must not remember the number one rule I made here. Do not go against me or there will be a price to pay." He looked Freddy straight in the eye in a very serious manner. Freddy knew there was nothing he could really do. You squeezed your husbands hand letting him know it was alright.

"I just want to give your wife a personal tour." He taunted him with a wink before turning to you.

"Shall we?"

Slowly you let go of your husbands hand and walked away with Negan as you continued to look back at Freddy. He knew why you were doing this, he knew you were only trying to prevent this man from becoming angry. You were trying to protect him.

Negan guided you to where he stayed. Entering the room you remained by the door as he walked to his desk. Negan casually sighed placing the bat on his desk before turning back to you.

"Why so far away, sweetheart."

"I'm fine here." You responded as he rubbed his chin slowly. He took off his leather jacket as he proceeded to make his way back to you making you much more anxious. What was his plan?

"Let me ask you something, doll." He stopped right before you, his eyes focused on yours. His voice smooth yet deep, you stood without moving a muscle.

"You love that man?"

"Of course I do." You responded rather quickly.

"You sure about that"? He moved closer as his eyes roamed down your body and back up to your lips. Distracted with the way he was looking at you, you didn't respond.

"What would you do if I just kissed those sweet lips right now?" He whispered, his tongue softly glided over his top lip before you looked away.

"Stop it."

"I wont tell him if you wont." He teased.

"I want to go back to my husband." You insisted making him frown. He leaned his face close to yours, you could feel his warm breath on your skin when he simply smiled.

"Oh I'll take you back to your husband."

Nervously, you swallowed attempting to hold your ground before he led you back outside. The last thing you wanted to show this man was fear.

Instantly rushing into your husband's arms, Negan stood behind and sucked his teeth. Negan was a man that went after what he wanted regardless the obstacle. The man was attracted to you in a way he had never found himself to be attracted to another woman. The next few days at the sanctuary you went about your business helping the women cook. Negan stood aside watching as Freddy walked by you and gave you a quick kiss on the lips. He had seen how gentle you treated your husband, he couldnt keep his eyes off of you. After a long day of Freddy working around the sanctuary, he was ready to come spend time with you. Negan watched as he headed towards you and decided to interfere in the moment.

"Freddy, my boy." He spoke with a touch of humor, you sighed wondering what Negan wanted now. You felt his eyes on you before he turned to your husband and requested a favor.

"I need you to go with Simon on a run-"

"Negan he just finished from working all-"

"Ah ah ah, sweetheart. What did I say about that." Negan turned to you waving his gloved hand as you crossed your arms.

"Negan, I dont like to leave Freya alone at night. Please." Freddy spoke politely not wanting to get on Negans bad side. Negans response was an arrogant smirk.

"Oh she wont be alone."

Freddy looked at you knowing he couldnt get out of this task. You nodded as you understood and wrapped your arms around him for a kiss before he left. Quietly you followed Freddy to the entrance to see him off with Simon, Negan stood right beside you.

"Please becareful, Freddy."

"I will, Freya. I wont be gone long." He smiled at you and got in the car.

"Dont worry, she'll be in good hands." Negan yelled out to him with a slick tone. You knew exactly what he was doing, hell this wasnt the first time Negan sent Freddy off so he could have you to himself. The pattern was quiet obvious with Negan. As soon as they drove off you turned away heading straight to your room.

"Woah woah woah, where are you in rush to go, sweetheart?" You could hear him following right behind you.

"I'm making dinner." You sighed as Negan followed you inside. Placing his bat gently on the table, he sat back, legs open as he took in the sight of you from behind. Feeling his eyes on you, you turned around to him biting his bottom lip. Trying to hold yourself together, you reminded yourself to not upset this man.

"Can I do something for you, Negan?" The tone in your voice showing a bit of irritation.

"Oh, I'm glad you asked." Negan stood up and slowly began to make his way to you.

"Tell me something, Freya." He stopped right before you, towering over you, you could smell his scent close to you.

"What do I have to do to get your mind off that husband of yours?"

"You will never get that chance." You responded confidently making him laugh quietly.

"I dont know about that..." he spoke with sarcasm.

"I think I have my way of making women not able to resist me."

"Well then go find those women. I'm a married woman."

"I bet I could make you forget that with just one touch." Negans tone was provocative, he was making it hard for you to keep your composure. Who did he think he was? He was a persistent man, especially with a woman that caught his eye. He leaned his hands on either side of you on the counter, closing you in against it.

"Go ahead, tell me to stop. If you want me to I will but those eyes....mm those eyes say otherwise."

Before you could respond he suddenly picked you up and sat you right on the counter making you gasp.

"Yeah I bet he never takes you by surprise like this huh?" He teased before you suddenly pushed him away and jumped down.

"Dont ever touch me again!" You yelled not caring if Negan had the power of authority at the Sanctuary. He chuckled as you yelled at him, not being able to help himself but like how you attempted to act superior to him. Not even the men had the balls to ever stand up to him the way you did, he liked your courage. He liked your confidence.

"Easy, darling. I wont touch you." He lifted his hands up as his eyes continued to undress you. Remaining silent you crossed your arms and sighed.

"I'll be waiting for my husband in my room." You walked out quickly not being able to get your mind off the way he touched you, or how him touching you made you feel. The look in his eyes as he spoke to you, you had never seen in Freddy. Shaking your head and laying in bed you waited for your husbands return.

Negan sat at his desk and closed his eyes, slowly licking his lips thinking of how close your body was to him today. The man couldnt get his mind off you no matter what he did. He wished you weren't married, if it wasnt for your husband he was sure he would've had you by now. Slowly rubbing his crotch area he felt himself rock hard. Every encounter with you left his cock craving more of you.

"Shit..." he muttered to himself picturing what he wanted to do to you until a knock on his door interrupted him.

"Fucking shit, what?!" He cleared his throat only to hear Simon had returned and he returned with your husband. Negan walked out and saw Freddy entering where you were. A sting of jealousy hit him knowing this was the man you kept turning him away for.

The next few days went by and you kept your distance from Negan but always knew he was watching. He sent off Freddy once again out of the sanctuary as you helped organize the storage room with two other women. He appeared leaning on the doorway as you organized some supplies in a box. The two women beside you instantly getting nervous with his presence. His boots clicked loudly with the ground as he made his way into the room. Taking a deep breath you ignored him acting like his presence didnt phase you.

"Ladies. You're free to go." Knowing damn well he didnt mean you, you played dumb and began to leave the room with the other two ladies.

"Except for you, Miss Freya." Rolling your eyes with a sigh you turned back into the room and continued packing the boxes. Ignoring his movement around you, you felt him stop right behind you.

"This too close for you, darling?" His voice was seductive and husky, it sent a shiver down your spine.

"Wheres Freddy?" Negan smirked as you felt him breathe close to your ear.

"Afraid I'm going to do something, sweetheart or are you afraid you're going to like it?"

"No." You responded very sure of yourself as you continued to go through the supplies before Negan suddenly put his hand over yours. You froze feeling his skin against yours, he gently moved where your hand moved as you placed the item in the box.

"I wont do anything you dont want me to do." He spoke slowly yet you could hear him begin to lose control of his breathing. The feel of your heart began to speed up, you couldn't understand why. That's when you suddenly felt him slowly press himself against your backside, purposely pressing his erection against you.

"Negan..." you gasped.

"Feel that, darling..." He spoke breathlessly in your ear. What scared you most was you almost felt like you were beginning to enjoy it.

"No!" You suddenly turned pushing him away.

"I am a happily married woman, I love my husband deeply. Respect that." You paced out of the room leaving Negan with an ache he only wished you could fix.

Slamming the door to your bedroom you sighed in disbelief with yourself. You loved Freddy, you truly did. This had gone too far and you knew you couldnt continue living this way. The only solution to this problem was to leave. Freddy returned and right away you expressed to him what had happened earlier in the day. What he wanted to do was put his hands on him, but he knew he couldnt risk your safety. There was too many of his men. What you hadn't been completely honest to Freddy about was how exactly you felt about what he did, you couldn't.

"Tomorrow night we leave." Freddy spoke with eagerness unaware that Simon was outside your door. Simon immediately informed Negan of your plan. Furiously he slammed his bat on his desk, he was not going to allow Freddy to get his way.

"Do you want me to take care of it?" Simon asked as Negan frowned.

"No. Let them think they're going to get away with it. I'll take care of it." Negan remained in his room in silence waiting for the sun to go down. Knowing exaclty when you would both attempt to leave, he picked up his bat and made his way to your room.

Freddy finished packing some of the bags as you took some extra canned foods. Rushing quickly before Negan would awake, you both prepared for the risky journey.

"Ready to go?" Freddy looked over at you as you nodded. Just as he opened the door the two of you were taken by surprise with a gasp at the sight of Negan standing on the other end.

"Going somewhere?" His bat lay comfortably on his shoulder as he grasped it tightly.

"Negan...I-" you began to speak suddenly unable to think, his eyes were dark with a threatening glare. He let himself in making you and Freddy back away.

"You know, I thought we were all great friends." A touch of sarcasm in his tone as he closed the door behind him.

"I have to say, I'm a little disappointed." He placed his hand over his heart. Neither of you could speak, Freddys hand holding on tightly to yours.

"Freddy, I kept your wife safe." He walked towards the both of you, before his eyes turned to you.

"Freya....I thought we had something special going on."

"Negan I can explain." You spoke anxiously as he frowned.

"Explain?" He grabbed the bag out of your hands and emptied it beside you.

"Explain what? How I gave you food and shelter and you wanted to sneaky away with more of it. That's a little fucking ungrateful."

"Negan-"

"Dont speak!" He roared making you jump.

"You think you can get past me?!" Negan stared down at you in fury before he suddenly grabbed Freddy and forced him to fall to his knees.

"Negan wait!" You screamed as he began to wave his bat, you knew what was coming next.

"Please wait-" You ran up to him placing your hands on his arm.

"I'll do whatever you want just dont kill him. Please." Negan smirked, slowly bringing his bat down. Scratching his chin he leaned in closer to you, his eyes falling directly onto your lips.

"You want him alive?" Negan spoke coldly.

"Yes." You whispered, swallowing nervously.

"Tell him you're mine."

His words left you speechless, what was he trying to do?

"What....Negan I-"

"You want him alive dont you? Then tell him you belong to me."

The look in his eyes showed he wasnt playing any games. Taking a deep breath you turned to your husband who didnt utter a word. What could he say? Freddy was aware how dangerous Negan could be.

"Freddy...." you began to speak as you felt Negan hoving over your shoulder staring down at your husband with a grin.

"I....I belong to....Negan now," you could hear Negan laugh low by your ear.

"Matter of fact, tell him you're now my wife." You squeezed your eyes shut knowing this was hard for Freddy to hear. He felt so helpless as he looked up at you before him.

"I am...Negans wife now."

"Atta girl. Now I dont appreciate being lied to or taken for a fool. After all I have given you, you wanted to sneak away with more things. Well now, you can only get what you need as my wife, do you understand?" Negan spoke loudly in your ear, your back still to him.

"From now on whatever you two had is done. You do not speak to each other or see each other and you-" Negan turned you to face him directly.

"You definitely do not cheat on me. Understood?" You nodded your head in silence before he looked over at Freddy.

"It didnt have to be this way but you've left me no choice. Dont try to cross me again."

Freddy remained silent as you kept your head down, you didnt have the heart to look over at your husband.

"Shall we....wife." Negan motioned for you to walk ahead of him and he followed with an arrogant walk.

In disbelief with what had just occured you found yourself being led to Negans room. There was no way out of this but to simply comply with what he wanted. At least Freddy was alive is what you would tell yourself, but at what cost? The cost of him suffering and watching you be with another man. Negan closed the door behind him as you looked around his room and your eyes stopped on his bed. A king size bed with black silk sheets, everything in his room was black.

"Like what you see?" He watched as you observed eveything in the room but focused on his bed with a look of concern.

"Oh you're worried about that huh?" He whispered behind you.

"I tell you what, how about you have the bed to yourself until your comfortable in you know...sharing it with me...your husband." Still, you remained silent.

"Lighten up, sweetheart. Make yourself comfortable." Negan walked past you taking off his leather jacket and throwing it on the couch. Hesitantly you inched up to his bed without looking back at him. Without saying a word, you climbed in and covered yourself with your back to him. This was your new life now, might as well get used to it.

The next few weeks past at the sanctuary. It was hard walking past Freddy and not being able to speak to him. You wondered what was going through his mind, Negan watched as you became distracted many times staring off at your husband. It was something you could not help. Doing as he asked you sat with him and had dinner every right. Tonight, Negan stayed staring at you curiously, you could feel how much he observed you as you stood up and began to wash the dishes.

"Freya...darling." He leaned back as you turned to him. Slowly he stood up and with an intimidating look walked to you. He stopped right before you looking down at you with intensity, Negan had not touched you yet but he wanted to. He yearned to feel you.

"Who do you belong to?" He asked in a seductive manner.

"To you." You responded softly, your voice sending a shiver through his body.

"Then show me." His words made your lips part not knowing exaclty how to respond. He pressed his pelvis against you as he stared down at you. It wasnt hard to tell the man wanted to kiss you. Slowly leaning forward, you closed your eyes and gently placed your lips on his. He groaned feeling your tongue part his lips and unexpectedly pulled you in tightly against him. One arm wrapped around your waist while his other hand slid to the back of your neck. You slowly felt yourself easing into him, liking the way he held you a moan escaped your lips. He felt your body relax against his, something you couldnt deny was you found yourself enjoying this. The two of you were lost in each others touch before being interrupted by a knock at the door. Instantly you pulled away making him sigh before he turned to walk to the door.

"What?" He spoke rudely as he opened to find Simon on the other end with Freddy. Negans lips matched yours, pink from how much you both sucked on each other. Realizing Freddy was at the door you gasped and turned your face, Negan liked the look of pain in Freddys eyes.

"Freddy, my man. I was just here with..my lovely wife." Negan turned to you with a grin.

"Oh wife-" he motioned for you to come stand beside him. Hesitantly you walked to him, Negan placed his hand around your waist pulling you in close.

"Now what is it?" Just as Freddy began to speak, Negan purposely interrupted him.

"Hold that thought." Negan spoke sarcastically before he turned to you and unexpectedly began to slowly kiss your lips. Lifting a finger up to Freddy, Negan taunted the man motioning for him to give him a moment as he kissed you. You could feel your heart slipping a beat, the rush between excitement and guilt, Negan pulled away and looked back at Freddy with a smile.

"You were saying."

Freddy froze for a moment as you looked away, suddenly forgetting anything he had to say.

"Freddy here is accompanying me on a supply run," Simon finished for him.

"Ah, great. Have fun." Negan slammed the door in their face before turning back to you and noticing the expression you had.

"Dont tell me you feel bad now, sweetheart," Negan frowned looking down at you. Truth was, you didnt feel as bad as you thought you would. Negan was making you feel something you were not sure how to explain but it felt good.

"I tell you what, your husband is going to go take care of a few things around the sanctuary then I'll come right back to you."

"Okay." You caught yourself smiling at him and he indeed liked that.

Words couldnt explain the mixed emotions you felt for Negan. Never had you been in a situation like this before. How was he having this much control over you? Hours went by and he had not returned, you began to feel restless. Day turned to night when you finally heard him at the door and ran to greet him.

"Where were you?" You asked making him look up with a puzzled expression.

"I told you I had to take care of a few things, doll."

"I didnt know you were going to take that long. I-I was worried." Negan raised a brow as a smile slowly appeared on his face.

"Oh yeah?" He began to take off his jacket as he closed the distance between the two of you. Once he reached you, he caressed your face with his hands and kissed you. He could feel how much you yearned for him.

"You've been a good girl today?" Negan asked huskily as he parted his lips from yours.

"Yes," you felt him begin to trace over your lips with his thumb before slowly putting his finger in your mouth. Erotically sucking his finger the two of you didnt break eye contact with each other. The feel of your lips closed around his finger aroused him, he could feel his cock wanting to burst out of his pants.

"Tell me what you want, darling." He whispered as he pulled his wet finger out and continued to trace your lips.

"I want you, Negan." He closed his eyes in satisfaction, something he had been wanting to hear for so long. It was true, as time went on you found yourself looking at Negan in ways you never thought you would. Many nights Negan awoke rock hard with you beside him, him unable to do a thing about it but picture what he wanted to do to you.

Suddenly he roughly turned you over pulling you back aggressively by your hair, the sudden pull making you scream. Negan pushed you down face first on the bed and pushed himself up against you. The way he moved you and touched you created a pool of wetness in your underwear. Without letting go of the grip he had on your hair in one hand, he pulled your pants down just enough to stop at your calves. Roughly he unbuckled his pants, you could hear his erratic breathing, you squealed as he continued to pull your hair. Allowing him to do what he wanted to you, you felt him slowly enter you from behind. Negan let out a satisfied moan at the feel of your warmth. The girth of his cock making you feel full inside, you moaned in pleasure. Without wasting any time Negan sped up his movement, slamming into you fast and hard.

"Is this what you wanted?" He asked breathlessly, just when you went to moan he yanked on your hair harder.

"Like this? This how you want it?"

"Yes Negan....like that.." you moaned motivating him to move faster.

"Tell me you're mine. Fucking say it-"

"I'm yours, Negan. I'm yours." You screamed as he bounced you off the bed. The controlling sound in his voice turned you on in a way you could not explain. For some reason you had no problem being submissive to this man. The pain he caused pulling your hair was satisfying and you didnt want him to leg go. Negan grunted as he continued, you could tell he was about to finish. Noticing his reflection in the mirror on the wall, you watched as his eyes never left the sight of your ass. With one last thrust you felt him pull out and felt him release himself all over your ass. He moaned loudly as he jerked off every last drop on you. Releasing your hair, you could hear him panting as he sat back on his chair. Out of breath yourself you stood up and fixed yourself up as you watched Negan light a cigarette. Barely able to speak he smiled at you as he blew out smoke.

"You're something else, Freya."

The feeling was mutual, you smiled at him in return not realizing how much you'd enjoy having sex with Negan. He stood up and began to got dressed before making his way to you. With you sitting on the bed, he stopped before you and made you tilt your head up at him.

"You'll forget about him eventually."

Truth was, you weren't forgetting about him but you were okay with what was happening. Negan sat back on the couch, taking a deep breath feeling relaxed. Closing his eyes he didnt notice as you stood up and quietly walked to him. Without a warning you slowly straddled him making him open his eyes with surprise.

"I'm doing just fine without my ex husband." Negan smiled as he placed his hands on your hips. The words you spoke were true, you found yourself beginning to have deeper feelings for Negan. In your mind the only husband you had was, Negan. There was no question about it, this is not how you expected things to turn out to be but, you were accepting of it.

Negan kept you safe and gave you anything you needed, he was the only man you wanted.

[welllpthisishappening]

falling feels like flying ['til the bone crush]

Someone should revoke her title. 

They’re trying, Emma supposes. Inevitable death probably means people can’t call her savior anymore, but they shouldn’t call her that now and that’s almost entirely because of what an absolute and complete liar she is. Telling Killian she would have done the same after he admitted he didn’t get rid of the shears isn’t her most massive lie, although it might be her most ridiculous. And they both know it’s not true. She wouldn’t do the same thing, she has. More than once. 

AN: That gif has nothing to do with the story! Here is approximately 3.5K where I once again force Emma and Killian to acknowledge their trauma. Not in the Underworld this time, though! So maybe we’re all evolving here. I blame this gif set, which I saw this morning and felt compelled to write something about. Maybe that evolution is also a lie, actually. 

———

“I lied.” Killian hums, exhaustion clinging to the sound, and Emma understands that. Less so why she’s talking right now, but neither one of those words seemed particularly interested in preserving the quiet calm of this particular moment, and she’s never been a lightweight quite like this. In more ways than one, she supposes. Hazy thoughts drift through her brain, muddled as it is by buttered rum and the steady flicker of flames in the fireplace because naturally this is the sort of house that has multiple fireplaces, and she burrows her face closer. 

To Killian’s chest. 

Takes a deep breath, not quite slow, but maybe a little greedy, and they ordered both things. Pizza and Chinese, half-finished egg rolls and beheaded slices of cheese with extra peppers strewn across the coffee table because Emma always likes that extra bit of crust and Killian’s nothing if not a frustratingly endearing sort of pushover. 

With her, especially. 

She closes her eyes. 

“I lied,” Emma repeats, “in the hospital, I mean. Wrong verb tense.” “You’re not making any sense at all, darling.”

Her nose must be cold — if the way Killian tenses as soon as it brushes his skin is any indication, but Emma knows it’s far more than that and far deeper than that and she might be the world’s biggest idiot. Looming death does that to a person, she supposes. 

Breathing isn’t particularly easy. And that’s not only because she ate four pizza slices worth of crust. Still, using death as an excuse again seems like an emotional crutch and an unreasonable reason, her muddled mind capable of clinging to every single letter in that particular endearment. It might be her favorite. 

She’s not sure she’s ever told him that. 

Stupid, really. 

“I told you that I get it; what you did today, and that part’s definitely true. But, uh, the rest of it. That I would have done the same thing? Total lie, right? I mean, I did it. That’s what happened.” Nothing. Just flickering flames and the quiet hum of a TV, neither one of them has been interested in actually watching all night. Emma doesn’t even know what channel they’re on. For all she knows, the remote’s in the kitchen. 

She counts inhales. Tries to keep her exhales measured, most of her face still pressed into the collar of Killian’s shirt as it is. And it takes about five full seconds before his hand moves, starts tracing a calm line up her spine, following that path until he reaches the base of her neck and the goosebumps that have already exploded on her skin and oxygen is overrated anyway. Holding her breath as soon as his fingers card through the ends of hair is basically instinct at this point. 

“Felt wrong to point that out at the time,” he mutters, “all things considered.” “Been kind of a long day.” “Reuniting with long-lost relatives will do that.” Scoffing is not the best reaction. Nothing about this is funny. Includes far too much death and dismay, and Emma’s gaze flickers up. Of its own accord and something much deeper, like the absolute refusal to accept a world where he does not exist. 

Goddamn Captain Hook. 

She loves him so much sometimes she thinks she’ll simply burst with the force of it all. 

It’s a gross thought, honestly. 

And they’ve already spent far too much time in the hospital today.

“Is he ok? Li—” Cutting herself off, Emma grits her teeth, but one side of Killian’s mouth is already tugging up, and the kiss that lands on her forehead is as soft as anything. Maybe bursting isn’t so bad, actually. So long as she can come up with another word for it. “God, that’s so weird.” Killian hums. “Indeed.” “Thoughts, feelings, et cetera?” “Vast. And none of them particularly pleasant.” “Seems fair. That sort of day, huh?” “Indeed.” They need more blankets. Need more things that are theirs in a collective sort of way, but that’s a dangerous and disingenuous train of thought, and Emma’s fingers twitch towards the fire. To ward off the sudden chill that’s settled between her shoulder blades, and it almost works, but it does absolutely nothing to help the sway of her stomach and the acid lingering in the back of her throat, threatening to burn far more than what these meager flames are able to do. 

“Should have finished high school,” Emma mumbles, “then I could choose more accurate verb tenses from my inevitably vast vocabulary. Did. Have done. Would do again, several thousand times over.”

“That’s the future tense.” None of his words come with any kind of pointed emotion, but Emma hears it all the same. Can see the tightness that lingers in the corners of his mouth and the way he’s holding his shoulders, straight as a line, and some joke about rigging that she no intention of making, and the furrow between his brows makes every muscle in her chest twist. Ache too, for good measure. 

With the promise of everything she wants to say and everything she hasn’t or can’t and—

Fuck magic, quite honestly. And the rules no one’s bothered to mention until now. Seems like poor planning on everybody’s part. 

“You heard me.” “I did,” Killian agrees lightly, and his hand has never actually stopped moving. It’s nice. Steady. Something Emma can almost nearly time her breathing too. “I would also choose that particular tense. If given the choice, that is.” “Do you not think you have that?” “I don’t particularly enjoy the thought. I’m rather partial to the option of whim, you see. Pirate and all that. We don’t much abide by schedules and fated decision.” “Seems like it’d be in the by-laws.” “Well, by-laws by their very nature are rather contradictory to the entire pirate notion, but you’ve got the gist of it at least.” Emma laughs. Doesn’t quite regret the sound, even as out of place as it is — just presses it into the edge of Killian’s shirt and the buttons he never bothers to do, trying to brandh the smell of him and the feel of him into every corner of her memory and she’s not really sure what happens after. Once the prophecy is fulfilled, and all that. 

She’s got too much unfinished business. 

To totally leave this particular plane of reality. 

She doesn’t mention that either. Not when the crux of that business is breathing steadily under her hand, and Emma can’t remember when she moved her hand, only that Killian’s warm under her touch, and he’s always so much warmer. Than just about anything else she’s aware of. 

“I thought you were dead.”

Of all the things Emma expects to happen in the midst of this night and this moment — and it’s really not a very long list, admittedly — that did not even make the cut. Wasn’t a consideration or a fledgling idea in the back of her mind, several different vertebrae almost audibly objecting when she jerks her head up. To find Killian staring straight ahead, lips not much more than a thin line across his face. 

Seriously, the rigging jokes almost write themselves. Which is more than Emma can say about her clearly piece of shit list, as metaphorical as it might be. 

“I don’t—” “—When I saw you,” Killian interrupts, and none of the words shake. Come out like a stream of consciousness and memories neither one of them have able to shake yet. Or talk about. Can’t possibly be healthy. “Chained to that stone, blood dripping into my mouth, and then all of a sudden, there you were. Worried I’d simply dreamt you up, couldn’t imagine how you looked quite that lovely in that hell hole, otherwise.” “Oh, that’s kind of insulting, actually.” “Hair like the bloody sun.” “Better,” Emma murmurs. Reaching up, her fingers tangle with the charms around his neck. Pieces of luck and trinkets she hasn’t learned all the stories to yet. The idea that she won’t makes her nauseous. “You told me ‘you shouldn’t be here.’” “Aye, and I meant it.” “Because you thought…” “Living people don’t often appear in such a God awful place, do they? Not without something tragic happening, and my mind was impressively efficient on that front.” “Which one is that?” “Every threat that’s ever lingered, every person I would have gladly run through if it meant you were safe. Half of goddamn Camelot.” Emma might snicker. Killian’s arm tightens, though. And that’s all she’s really worried about. “I think I could have taken Arthur. Y’know if it had come to that.” “Likely not a very good swordsman,” Killian nods, but that’s only so his lips can trace Emma’s temple and the top of her hair. More than once. Like he’s still making sure. “Pampered prince—” “—He was totally a king, babe. That’s like...the most basic Camelot knowledge.” “Ask me in five minutes if I care at all about anything to do with Camelot.” “Should I time it, or…” He scoffs. Presses another half dozen kisses to any spot he can reach, and he can actually reach a fair amount of places. Emma’s impressed. Swooning too, but also pretty impressed. “I kept thinking about you,” Killian says, softer than the last few words have been, and it sounds like an admission and another promise, and it’s weird that it can be both. At the same time. “This house. What it was and wasn’t. All those possible verb tenses.”

“I’m sorry.” “Ah, that’s not your fault, love. None of this is, really, but—well, it did make it so seeing you, realizing you were there...left all of those thoughts crashing down around my ears, so to speak. Falling apart, like an avalanche of what hadn’t been and what I still wanted so desperately. No matter what Hades did.” “Stupid stubborn.” “I believe there’s something about a pot and a kettle in this realm.” “Don’t have that cliche in the Enchanted Forest, huh?” “Not that I’m aware of, no.” “Maybe you just didn’t go to a good college.” “Tell me every Greek word you know,” Killian challenges, and Emma rolls her eyes. Ignores the first few flutters of a headache brewing at the base of her skull. “It didn’t seem fair.” “Which part?” “All of it is also rather vast, but mostly that if you were there, then it happened again.” Narrowing her eyes, Emma tries to piece together those letters and the syllables they make, only to be marginally annoyed when she can’t make sense of them. Killian kisses the bridge of her nose. 

She might have to go get Tylenol soon. 

“Losing you without fighting, without challenge the goddamn reaper myself, was worse than anything He could have done,” Killian continues, and he doesn’t have to be more specific. “Worse than whatever pain I’ve ever suffered. Cut off twenty more limbs; it wouldn’t even come close.” “Do you have that many?” “Your humor lacks a little something; you know that, Swan?” “It’s a defense mechanism.” He noses at her hair. Drags the soft hum of what could very well be either an agreement or the opposite, or maybe even the sort of deep-rooted understanding that’s allowed him to sneak his way into the center of everything, across her skin. The specifics don’t matter, only that Emma’s magic roars under her skin, an inferno, and a symphony, meeting the challenge that no one has really laid down yet. 

“Do that again,” Killian mutters, a low chuckle as Emma’s scratches at his side. 

“I’m not sure I can, honestly.” “Pity.” “Something like that, yeah. And you’re not totally right, you know?” “Ah, and that’s almost rude.” “I’m serious,” Emma says, “that’s—none of that was your fault either.” Tilting his head only ensures that several strands of hair he still hasn’t bothered to cut fall almost artfully across his forehead, and Emma is grateful to a variety of gods, Greek or otherwise, that Killian doesn’t mention how much her hand shakes. When she tries to brushes them away. His hook finds her wrist instead, cool metal against freezing cold skin, and the state of her tongue is going to be a problem. Large as it is in Emma’s mouth, making it all but impossible to properly swallow while Killian’s lips sweep the bend of her knuckles. 

“Charmer.” “Aye, that’s my endgame.” There’s not enough room between them for him to run his hand across his face like Emma knows he wants to, and part of that isn’t really a bad thing, but the rest just seems like another entirely unfair thing, and Emma knows the rest is coming. Makes tears burn her eyes all the same. “They were just...gone, you understand? No chance to do anything about it. One moment they were living and breathing. Then Liam was dead. Slumped in my arms in the corner of a cabin he was supposed to spend the rest of his career in. He—he would have been a very good captain.” “So are you,” Emma says, fierce and determined, and Killian kisses in the inside of her palm. She’s moved her hand again. To cup his cheek. 

“For a time, maybe. But then she was gone too, and I thought I could feel it, you know. The exact way her heart crumbled in his hand, tiny bits of dust that I never wanted to blow off the deck. Like some of her still managed to stay. Is that—” The muscles in his throat move, jaw clenching, and Emma has to blink. She hopes the moisture on her cheeks isn’t tears. She’s not sure what’s a better option, really. “Must sound daft.” “No. I—I get that too.” “Do you?” “Not the only one who’s watched Rumplestilskin hold the heart of someone you loved.”

He can’t be holding his breath. His chest is moving much too quickly, but the burst of air that all but flies out of Killian is enough to ruffle the ends of Emma’s hair and possibly even dry some of the tears she’s still refusing to acknowledge, and she can’t get closer to him. 

She makes an admirable effort all the same. 

Like occupying the same few inches of space will ensure that she stays there. 

“Did you—” Killian starts, looking almost pained as the words war for his voice on the tip of his tongue. “Did you like her?” That didn’t make the list, either. It’s entirely possible that Emma is just garbage at making lists. She nods. “Anyone who loves you as much as I do is fine with me. Better than, even.”

His expression shifts again. Light lingers in his gaze, cautious hope, and misplaced optimism, gears whirring in his head that Emma can’t almost convince herself she hears. Her verb tense was on purpose that time. 

That’s a confidence boost, all things considered.

“She was something fierce,” Killian says, sounding reminiscent and not as sad as Emma has worried he must be. “Once she got away from him. Could get a grown man to do her bidding with a single look, the kind of glare that’d set you on fire from the inside out. It was—they loved her too. Men on the ship, would have followed her to the ends of the Earth if she’d asked. Probably even if she hadn’t.” 

His next inhale becomes an exhale almost immediately.

“She never would have asked,” Killian adds, almost entirely to himself, but then his eyes are back on Emma, and they’re a little glossy and just as blue and she’s holding her breath now. “She liked you too, I know it.” “I think she thought I was crazy, actually. Gold didn’t really have much tact in the...introductions.” “Ah.” “Right?” “Right,” he echoes, a pale imitation of her voice that makes Emma’s cheeks ache. From smiling. Legitimately smiling. Huh. “But I suppose that’s part of it, though. She was there again, and I—” “—I’m sorry. For...for all of it.” “Still not your fault, love.”

“How did you know?” she asks, and her voice doesn’t sound much like her either. Wobbles and warbles and some other word that fits the alliteration. “About me. And not being…”

“Dead?” Killian’s eyebrows jump. “Strawberries.” “Excuse me?” “That soap you use in your hair. Smells like strawberries, or strawberry adjacent maybe. Manufactured just a bit. I think it’s my favorite smell in the world.” “Backhanded compliment.” “No, no,” Killian shakes his head. His hair moves again. “It’s not. It’s—well, it’s you, love. Smells like everything that you are and—”

“—I’m manufactured?” “If you let me finish,” he chides, and Emma all but yanks her lips behind her teeth, “It smells like home. Smells like falling asleep next to you and a distinct lack of blankets.” He nips at the tip of her nose. She scoffs again; that’s why. “And your distractingly cold feet, and leather jackets, and how the smell clings to the collars, no matter how long it’s been since you’ve worn them. Lingers on your pillow too, and the fronts of my shirt. You fall asleep against me quite often, you know that.” “Can sleep anywhere,” Emma reasons. “Might be my greatest talent.” “I don’t know about that.” “If I call you charmer again, will you hold it against me for lack of synonyms?” “Tell me how charming I am again.” Emma scrunches her nose. “Now it sounds like my dad.” “Let’s leave the prince out of this. He’s only a prince, aye?” “Far as I know, yeah.” “Good, good. Strawberries, love. Touching you helped too, though. If we’re being frank.” “Anything except blunt force honesty seems silly now, doesn’t it?” Killian nods. Slow and measured, like anything else will snap this tenuous peace, and maybe they can just sleep on the couch. Getting up is an impossible prospect right now. Maybe they can make out a little before they fall asleep. 

“It’s a very big house,” Emma whispers, and they should really figure out a schedule for conversations like this. Talking about it all at once is exhausting. 

“It is.” “You don’t want to expand upon that?” “Oh, I want a great number of things I shouldn’t,” Killian admits, “but as much as I appreciate this fresh round of honesty we’re engaging in, the false hope would—” “—There’s no such thing,” Emma interrupts. “False hope. It’s an oxymoron, ask my mother. And I think you should get some sort of crew again.” “How would you suggest I populate such a thing?” She shrugs. Nearly hits Killian in the chin in the process. “Untold stories. Dwarves.” “I will not have dwarves on my ship.” “See, I knew you’d have opinions. And there was a possessive pronoun in there that time.” “Was there not before?” “No,” she says. “Just called it the ship. Like it’s not the most important thing you have.” “Well, it’s not.” Emma’s cheeks warm. “That was very smooth.” “Someone did guarantee I was a very good captain earlier.” Space continues to be relatively minimal between them, but Killian’s nothing if not adaptable, and he works with what he’s got. Swinging Emma’s legs perpendicular over his, she’s nearly sitting on his lap, an arm slung over his shoulders, which makes it even easier to get her fingers into his hair and his head to rest against hers, and he takes another deep breath. “I know you understand, Emma,” he says, soft and serious, and she doesn’t bother doing anything except cling to him. With everything she’s got left. “All of it, from the very start. So I don’t think I’ll apologize, actually. For what I’ve done, or what I’d still be willing to do. I won’t give up on you, do you understand me?” “Didn’t,” Emma says, only a little optimistic that’s the right verb tense. Maybe she can get her GED, or something. Before all of this ends. “In Camelot, or after. Accept or acknowledge, and I probably would have—” 

Announcing that killing Gold for what he’d done to Killian regularly crossed her mind in the twenty-four hours or so before they finally made it to the Underworld doesn’t really have the right sentiment for this conversation. Far too violent, and just as honest. 

She’d consider killing him now, too. 

For everything he’s doing, and everything he hasn’t, and she should have shoved him in that river. 

Killian doesn’t smile. At least not in a way that reaches his eyes, the same ones that are looking at Emma again, all blue and earnest, and his shoulders shift. When her fingers graze his chin, more than stubble there because, she imagines, spending a day or so underwater with a sibling he only sort of wants and kind of knows doesn’t leave much time for facial-type grooming. 

It’s a good look, though. 

Most of them are, in Emma’s experience. 

“This entire time,” she continues, “you haven’t given up on me yet.” “Works both ways, darling.” “That one crosses realms, huh?” “Pick up things spending so much time with you.” There’s nothing extra in the words. No sap-filled sentiment or promises she’s only a little hopeful will become actions. And they haven’t talked about the rest; might not even have time, but Emma will let herself think about all these empty rooms anyway, of the exact shade Killian’s eyes go when he stands at the helm, and she hopes he doesn’t cut his hair. Not yet, at least. Longer strands make it easier to touch him, to leave a lasting mark, and settle into his center the same way he’s taken root in hers. 

They fall asleep on the couch. 

[thevampiresiren]

Helping Yoongi Shave

Word Count: 2.5K

Genre: Fluff, Humor

WARNINGS: Soft!Yoongi, Tooth Aching Fluff, Cursing, Slight Suggestive Themes (nothing major, just some suggestive flirting and a little talk of sex. Yoongi also puts his hands on the reader's butt)

Summary: Yoongi needs to shave, but he's too tired to do it himself. So he teaches you how to shave him.

A/n: So… This is the very first Fanfic that I wrote and I’m not going to lie; I was a very nervous about posting it until one of my friends read it for me and loved it. I’m not sure if I’ll be doing this stuff as a part of my blog ALL the time, but if I can think of anything and if it comes out good; I’ll definitely post it.  Also I just REALLY wanted to do a Yoongi shaving fanfic because I think helping your significant other shave is SO intimate and involves a lot of trust. I hope you guys like it!

I was passed out on the couch in the living room when I woke up to the sound of keys jingling outside the apartment door. As Holly got up from laying next to my feet, I picked up my phone and saw that it was around 1:30 am. As the door opened, I heard the brown toy poodle bark happily while he was spanning around in a circle while footsteps stopped to where he was. "Shhh, Holly. You're gonna wake Mom up." My boyfriend whispered petting the fluffy canine.

"Too late, she's awake." I yawned while stretching with a smile on my face. Yoongi looked up from petting Holly.

"I'm sorry, Jagiya. I thought you were in bed." Yoongi said while taking his shoes off, setting his work bag down, and walking over to me. I smiled as he tilted my chin up to gently peck my lips. When he pulled away, he laughed loudly. "What?" I asked.

"Nice bed head, babe". He said smirking while nodding at me. I ran my my finger through hair and sighed. "Hey, don't be upset. It's cute." He said standing up and kissing my check. I felt a slight roughness on my skin once he made contact. I look at his upper lip and chin, smirking.

"Nice stubble, babe." I copied. He touched his face and groaned. "Don't be upset. Its cute." I mocked. Yoongi smiled.

"I'm gonna go get changed. I'm too tired to shave tonight." He said yawning while walking to our bedroom. Holly and I followed not far behind and he laid down in his little bed starting to doze off again knowing his dad was home. I walked in and saw that Yoongi had put his glasses on and changed into his black sweatpants that hung loosly on his hips and was topless. He was by no means the buffest man in world, nor did he have majorly defined abs; but he was toned enough that you could see his pecs, and when the light hit right at the correct angel; his faint abs from him most recently working out would show up. He was perfect. His arm muscles slightly moved as he threw his clothes into hamper. I was too busy admiring him before he broke me from trance. "You okay over there? If I didn't know any better I'd get the feeling you're checking me out." He said with a cocky smirk. I smiled and pushed myself off the door frame I was leaning on.

"Nah, I think your hideous and by no means attractive. And you do it to me all the time." I said jokingly.

"Your loud noises from me pinning you down two nights ago and those dark marks say otherwise, baby girl". He said smirking. I blushed while trying to cover the "love marks" on my neck and where my shoulders met.

"Shut up and let me enjoy my hot boyfriend's body when we aren't fucking." I said laughing. Yoongi let out chuckle before he went off to the master bathroom to brush his teeth. I changed out of my day clothes into nothing but his white Fear of God shirt that hit my mid thighs and put my hair in a high ponytail.

"Aish! Its so fucking bad" Yoongi groaned loudly. I looked in and saw him examining his facial hair, clearly upset with how fast it was growing. "Yoon, just shave it tomorrow before you go to work. You need sleep." I said walking over to him. I knew he was beyong exhausted by how irritated he sounded and by the slight bags under his eyes. It was comeback season and I knew he was over working himself a bit. He was eating healthy and was taking care of himself like he has been, but I still worried about him. "I can't, we have an interview in the morning and we have dance practice. Plus, I need to finish up a song in the home studio once I wake up." He said leaning his head against the mirror pouting; his raven bangs falling and covering his eyes. I wrapped my arms around his bare torso and leaned my cheek on his broad shoulder making him shiver at the contact. "What if I do it for you?" I said quietly.

"My work?"

"No, dumbass." I said pulling away laughing while he turned around. "I mean shave your face." I said poking his chubby cheeks and kissing his pout.

"You sure you're not to tired to do that for me?"

"I wouldn't be offering if I was."

"Yes you would, because I'd do it too for you."

"I've already gotten at least 4 hours of sleep. You've been up since 6 am. I have more energy and I don't want you stressing out over it. Let me do it, baby. Let me take care of you." I said seriously.

"God, I can't wait to make you my wife." He said sighing. I laughed loudly "Who said I would say yes if your proposed?".

"We've talked about it and you were weak at the knees when I told you I would give you as many kids as you want and I would find a way to make it work for you, the kids, and music. Plus, you let me take your v-card. You've already said yes based on that like I did." Yoongi said laughing.

I blushed. "Just go get your damn razor and everything else." I said crossing my arms over my chest. Yoongi turned around and opened the medicine cabinet to pull out his shaving cream, aftershave, and the black leather case that he kept his razor in. He set everything in front of the sink and scooted out of the way for me to work. I opened up the case and saw exactly what type of razor it was. Anxiety shivered through my body as I pulled the razor out carefully. I just came to the realization that I had never actually SEEN his razor. He usually was using it on tour or even over at the dorm with the rest of the guys. Whenever he did shave here, it was in the shower.

"Yoongs..."

"Yeah?"

"This is a straight razor...". I said quietly.

"I know. It gets closer to my skin and the shave lasts longer. It works better for me than a normal one.". I carefully opened the blade far away from either of us at the risk of us getting cut. I stared at it and my anxiety just continued to grow. These were dangerous and I'd never used one before.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Yoongi said looking at me concerned while reaching out and gently rubbing my shoulder.

"I'm scared I'm going to pull a Thomas Brown Hewitt and slit your throat while I shave you. I can't afford a lawsuit as big as you." I said casually as I carefully set the razor down after I slowly put the blade back. Yoongi busted out laughing loudly at my comment.

"You'll do fine, Kitten." He said calmly after he collected himself. "I'll show you how to use it on yourself first if that'll make you more comfortable.". I thought for a moment and nodded my head agreeing. Yoongi grabbed the shaving cream and turned the water on so it was hot but not scolding. "Fuck." Yoongi said looking down, his deep raspy voice just slightly about a whisper as he just noticed what I was wearing. I smirked at him with a face that said "really?" .

"Sorry, you just look really fucking cute." He said blushing. Yoongi showed me how to put the cream on my legs which was no different than I normally do. He then grabbed the razor, instructing me to put my hand where his was. He lightly wrapped his large hand around my wrist, and started.

"Okay, so the trick is to go with the grain of hair; never against it. It can cause bumps and ingrown hairs. Also keep your hand at a 30-degree angle. Anything more will cut yourself. Make sure the skin is always taught as well. And go slow and gentle. Like this.". Yoongi began helping me shave where my ankle was and guiding me with the right amount of pressure. After a few more strokes of him helping me, I had enough confidence to do it on my own. It wasn't as hard or scary as I thought. After 20 minutes, I had both of my legs shaved and set the blade down on the sink. I ran my hands down my legs and noticed how smoother my legs were. I had no cuts, bumps, or anything like I normally would. "I DID IT YOONGI! I DIDN'T KILL MYSELF!". I yelled extremely happy that I didn't have to go to the ER, wrapping my arms around Yoongi's neck . He laughed at how excited I was.

"I told you that you could do it. Are you ready to try it on me now?" He said picking the blade back up. I smiled and told him to sit down on the counter of the bathroom sink. Once he was sat down and his glasses were off, I put the water on and shaving cream on his face. Just when I had turned to grab the razor; I felt a large warm hand on my wrist. "Um.. wait a second."

While I went to look over at Yoongi; I felt a soft, light, pressure on my left cheek followed by a muffled sound. I looked between my face and part of my hair covered in white, to Yoongi's right hand also covered in white and the right side of his face showing his skin underneath. It took me a second to get over my shock before I began processing what had just happened. "MIN YOONGI." I yelled, waking Holly up, making him barm from the disturbance of his sleep before going back to bed. Yoongi busted out in a full-on laugh attack causing him to almost fall off the sink before catching himself. As I washed the shaving cream off of me, I looked annoyed but also amused at him being playful. "I want a divorce already." I said laughing with him. Once we both settled down and Yoongi had his face covered in shaving cream again; I grabbed the razor and was about to start shaving him when my anxiety started getting the better of my again. Yoongi sensed my anxiety sparking and grabbed my hand that wasn't holding the razor.

"Hey." Yoongi said while he looked up at me lovingly, running his long fingers over mine soothingly. "I trust you okay. I know you won't hurt me." He said before kissing my knuckles, careful not to get the shaving cream on my hand. I nodded smiling and slowly started shaving him. Several minutes in shaving him, while I was concentrating, I felt Yoongi's hands reach behind me to my upper thighs, pulling me closer. He gently started rubbing soothing circles on them and messaging my ass.

"Keep it PG, Min. I have weapon and I'm not afraid to use it." I said jokingly making him chuckle.

"You know what you in my clothes do to me." He said with a tired smirk. His dark lashes hit his cheekbones as he relaxed under my touch. I smiled at a how serene he looked, and it took everything in me not to kiss him. Once I was done, I rubbed my nose against his causing him to open one eye and smile. I grabbed the washcloth and gently cleaned whatever was left of his shaving gel. I grabbed his Invictus aftershave and put some on his face.

"Okay, I'm think done." I said proud of myself. Yoongi put his glasses back on and grabbed the handheld mirror I had held out to him and examined his face closely. A huge smile hit his lips and he wrapped his strong arms around my shoulders and pulled me to his broad chest. "You did amazing Jagi. Thank you." He said as he muzzled his face into my neck.

"You're welcome, Yoons." I said tiredly as I ran my fingers through his soft locks, laying my head on top of his. The faint smell of his aftershave along with the smell of him in general hitting my nose made me feel tired as I gently messaged his head. Yoongi hummed quietly into my neck before placing chaste lazy kissing to my neck, chest, below my ear lobe, cheeks, temple, nose, and finally my lips.

"I love soft, cuddly Yoongi." I said giggling. Yoongi looked at me with a soft smile, our noses touching.

"I thought you loved rough, dominate Yoongi?" He said rubbing our noses together.

"Ehh, I like all sides. I'm an easy woman to please." I said looking at him smiling before telling him it was time for us to go to bed. He yawned while nodding and we headed to our bed, setting his glasses down on the nightstand. He pulled me close, so my head was laying on his chest and placed his hand on the side of my face. Our centimeters away from each other he smiled and looked into my eyes with his full of love, care, warmth, and passion. "I love you so much, Jagi." He said tired while stroking my cheek bone. I leaned it connected my lips to his in a sweet but passionate kiss. We both pulled away with giant smiles on our faces. I responded looking tiredly into his eyes. "I love you too, Yoongi.". I layed my head on my pillow, my face buried in his neck breathing in his scent while he buried his in my hair, arms wrapped tightly around me. "I can't believe you smashed me in the face with shaving cream." I said quietly.

"That's what you get for staring at me and then parading around our bedroom in my shirt and your lace panties you brat.". He responded letting out and airy chuckle. I smiled before closing my eyes and falling asleep to his light breathing.

[celestialblushxoxo]

Hello and Merry Christmas for the fs game - A.M

She/her and straight

Thanks 💖

Hey love, Happy New Year, hope you have a beautiful year ahead💗✨ Enjoy your reading

Your initials remind me of the song A.M. by 1D. Anyways moving forward, woahhh ok your person has been through $hit, like literally. They may have been treated badly before mostly by their ex but man they didn't deserve that all. Gaslighting and jealousy, their ex literally treated them as a pushover and maybe told them that they'd never get anyone better than her(manipulation and blackmailing as well). Their family members warned them to leave her but they were so much in love honestly they couldn't see it. Without Me by Halsey came throughout my mind. They literally did so much for that ungrateful person only to be cheated at in the end. She cheated on them and due to the guilt she felt insecure asking your fs everytime if he cheated on her when she is the real culprit. Your fs may have been treated badly by her as well. But that's not where their thing ends. The moment they decided to end the relationship a whole new person acne out. The way your person transformed is so amazing and inspiring honestly like totally unrecognisable. Like a whole new person. Unstoppable by Sia. Lotta songs coming through maybe they love to listen to songs or maybe songs helped them get through as well. They changed their whole personality now they are fearless, they ain't scared of no one bruh. Like literally unstoppable. They worked hard to get here, so so hard and so well deserved 🙌 they are truly inspiring and this will make you love and respect them so so much than you already do. They will treat you so well and be so careful around you because they know how it feels, they've been through that. Initially they may be guarded, all walls up, guarded but slowly they realise how genuine and caring you are. They have this very sweet and cute look to them. Very youthful look and very charming like they've got such an adorable smile. They may have dragon teeth like their teeth placement may not be in a straight line but it looks super duper cute. Very adorable face, you might wanna squish them all day. You know how we say some people are golden retriever in human form, exactly the same, they are like this sun. May have light brown or blonde hair. Sunkissed skin. Brazillian came up as well. They maybe brazillian or even Australian or mix but somewhere along those lines. Nice booty lmao. When they smile their eyes get so small aww and wide smile. Ughh they are so cute bruh. Curly hair, shoulder length possibly. May know how to surf, love beaches and adventure realated stuff like hiking etc. Have a good built, broad shoulders and medium to tall height. Financially they are doing amazing, very very stable and abundant, they love to travel, come from a very healthy and stable family as well. They are in such a beautiful place right now, literally like an emperor, they know they are the $hit they won't let anyone tell them otherwise. They are in their power, in control and they are their own boss. Wow you fs is really inspiring, they literally are the embodiment of a person with the heart of gold🥺 you will both be so cute together. They love kids and pets as well. Others/their close ones may see them as someone very strong, powerful, inspiring, motivated, ambitious, loving, adorable, handsome, playful, fun to be around, understanding, mature and sensible as well as wise. Right now they are almost reaching their goals, they are almost there to be the bossman you know. They are working super hard and also working on self care and self love as well. They love to surprise you with tiny gifts if they randomly see something and they'd love to take you to places. They have an interest in learning about new cultures and maybe a foodie. They maybe from a different country as well.

Possible placements: Leo, cancer, gemini, Libra , aqua, Sun dom

Possible fashion aesthetic:

Hope you enjoyed your reading and moodboard love. Do let me know if you liked it or not, it helps me improvise! Thanks for being patient and have a lovely day ahead💗✨

[project-rosewood-476]

Every Rose Has It's Thorns Chapter 3

After a long ass time, ERHIT Chapter 3 is finally out! Tabby is about to commit her first direct kill, and the boys will finally see a brief glimpse of Tabby and who she really is. The Pocket, interpretations of the creeps, and some of the ideas belong to @creepypasta-shtick. Please go check out their blog! They're awesome!

Maplehood Creek and Tabby Anderson belong to me.

TW: homicide, violence, blood, and gore

IF YOU DON'T LIKE IT, DON'T READ IT.

otherwise, enjoy~

Toby had gone to bed to get an uneasy sleep after the confrontation with Hoodie. He woke up feeling distinctly unrested. Tabby was still out cold, but she was back to being curled up in her natural protective sleeping position, back to cuddling with Toby's hoody. She had a nice black bruise formed on her left temple when she fell and hit her head when she collapsed. Toby took some time getting ready. He was tired, but coffee made his tics worse, so he woke himself up by taking a cold shower. But he could only waste so much time before they had to go. Toby had a simple, small breakfast, then went to go wake up Tabby.

When you walk into Tabby's room, you just see this small curled-up figure under the teal covers nuzzling the hoody. On the nightstand, you could see two pictures. One is of her family. You could see a short and stout woman who looks like a more tired, older version of Tabby with her arms behind her back and a small, sad smile. A tall, built man with his arms crossed and looking sternly into the camera, which was her stepdad. A boy in his late teens who looked like a more boyish version of her stepfather. He had a mischievous smirk as he looked down at a slightly younger version of Tabby in a headlock, looking like he was about ready to pour the container of gasoline that he was holding over her head. Tabby herself looked like she was fighting to get out of the headlock, keeping one leg down and the other leg slightly up for balance. The blonde little boy that was a thick boy with a hint of baby fat on him had a mischievous grin as his innocent blue eyes screamed for adventure. He was holding onto her slightly elevated leg. The second picture was a school picture with a somewhat younger version of Tabby and co. It was 15 kids all together striking funny dumb poses in their Rosewood school uniforms with Tabby and a taller ginger girl front and center. Tabby was loosely hanging off of her, making a funny face as she was genuinely smiling, And the ginger girl wrapping her arms around Tabby's torso to support her, suggesting that Tabby and this ginger girl were close at one point in time. Other than that, it was immaculate and practically empty.

Tabby was snoring softly, as she often does when she's in a deep sleep. Toby gently reached over to her and tried shaking her.

"Tabby, Tabby, you have to get up."

Tabby startled awake, and she scurried away to another corner of the bed in an attempt to get away from him. She was about to cock her fist back and kick him as she scurried over. Until she realized that she doesn't need to attack him since he wasn't doing anything to hurt her. She lowered her defenses down and gave a sheepish, apologetic look.

"Sorry...instincts..."

She groaned and rubbed her head "my head hurts..and my entire body aches...god, I'm so tired..."

She looked around, confused.

"How...did I get back here?...."

She looked over to see Toby's hoody in her bed. Confused and embarrassed, she crawled over and picked up the hoody and handed it back to him.

"I don't know how I got this...but I think this belongs to you."

"Oh yeah, thanks." Toby took it back from her and smiled.

"Yeah. I went and got you from Jane's place and brought you here. Do you need some ice for your head? You had a nasty fall." He felt terrible for having to wake her up.

"Yeah, that's what happens when your body finally gives out when you already went two weeks with no sleep."

Toby left her to wake up. He was getting everything cleaned up. He wanted her to wake up first before he told her the bad news. Masky and HoodieHoodie were already on their way over.

She flopped onto her face in her bed with how exhausted she was. It looks like she's not going to get any more sleep for a while. Great, just great. Hopefully, she could get some coffee or an energy drink or both, preferably. The caffeine didn't help her anxiety and paranoia any. And it's certainly not healthy for her. It worsened, but it does help keep her up when she needs to for more extended periods. This was helpful for when her insomnia finally wears off for a while, and she can't do her usual routine to catch up On sleep like she usually does sometimes. But first, some water for that headache that she had. Tabby was grumbling as she got her clothes ready. She took out a black my chemical romance tee-shirt since she's still in her emo phase that never left her. And a pair of worn-out jeans and socks. She went to the closet to get new bandages for her hand since she was covered in yesterday's blood. She was going to take a shower first. Hopefully, that will help wake her up, but she highly doubts it. The poor girl looked exhausted and just wanted to go back to sleep.

She put her stuff in the bathroom and came out to get some water since she was thirsty. She took three long gulps of water and tilted her head back, and closed her eyes for a moment.

"God, I fucking hate my insomnia. I'd kill for some coffee or an energy drink or both. It's not good for my anxiety and paranoia, but it does help keep me awake when I need to" she went back to sipping her water. "So why do I have to be up exactly that involves me?"

Toby gave her a slight grimace.

"I'll tell you the news later. But I'll tell you what. You take a shower, and I'll make your coffee; how does that sound? I know you like watching, but I'm just going to use these beans." He opened his upper cabinet and showed her the bag of coffee beans. "I have some of the tester sticks, too, if you want." He wanted her to get tidied up a bit before the other two came over.

Tabby gulped at his grimace. Whatever the news was, it couldn't be good for her. But she needed to clean up to wash off yesterday's blood and take care of her hand. She nodded as he showed her.

"That sounds good as long as you have sugar. I like my coffee diabetes sweet." She went in to take her shower.

Toby nodded and made her coffee. He left the sugar and creamer for Tabby to add herself, so she could inspect it if she needed to and also so she could add as much as she wanted. He switched on the TV. He could watch human channels if he wanted, but he much preferred monster television.

Tabby set the water on warm to soothe her aching body for the day. It took her a couple of minutes to figure out how the shower worked. She undid the bandages on her left hand and threw them away. She got undressed and inspected herself. Scars were always going to be there, but the bruises were healing up nicely. It was amazing to her what happens when she wasn't getting into fights and getting beat almost every day. She estimated about a week for them to heal entirely besides a few major ones on both sides of her ribcage and stomach that would take longer. They never recovered this fast before usually; it took two weeks for the old bruises to heal first. Tabby was giddy about that. She got in and washed herself up with the stuff she brought with her when she ran away. The whole process took like 5 minutes. She turned the water off, dried off, got dressed in her black my chemical romance shirt and worn-out pants and socks, brushed her hair and teeth, and got out.

She came out, putting her wet hair back into a ponytail. The coffee was waiting for her, with the cream and sugar next to it. Toby was sat on the couch, watching the news. A little demon man was on the TV, talking about the weather for that day, which was, as usual, hot. Tabby took the testing stick just in case. No poison. She put some creamer and a shit ton of sugar into her coffee. She stirred it in and gave it a taste test. She gave a blissful sigh as the coffee hit the right spot. She took her coffee into the living room, sipping on it. She sat a few cushions over from Toby. She looked visibly slightly better. Still really exhausted but able to deal with it better now that she had some coffee with her. Still looked malnourished. She had clean bandages on her hand, and her fresh scars were basically healed, and most of her bruises were almost gone or looked slightly better.

"So, what is the bad news that involves me?"

Toby was about to answer when there was a knock on the door. He went and got it. There stood Masky and Hoodie. Masky had his mask strapped to his belt, revealing a cheery, rather nice-looking face. He looked like a normal human being. Hoodie kept his mask on, of course. He hated taking it off.

"Hey guys, come in," Toby said nervously.

They both did so. Masky flashed Tabby a smile.

"Hey, kiddo."

Tabby narrowed her eyes at him, remembering the night when he tried to kill her twice. But she wasn't a rude bitch most of the time.

"Hello," she said in a polite tone as she stopped drinking her coffee for a second to give everyone her full attention.

Hoodie chuckled to himself quietly. It must be weird to see Masky so chill. Toby smiled awkwardly.

"Tabby, you've...uh...met these people before, but anyways. This is Masky, our group leader. And this is Hoodie." Both men wave

"Yeah, I know," she said still politely, but her voice had a harsh undertone to it slightly.

But her stepdad was strict on raising her with respect for her elders and manners in general. She gave a small wave with her left hand in return.

"Why are you guys here?"

"They're here, so we can do a small mission before we go help EJ with his," Toby stated nervously before excusing himself to the bathroom so either Hoodie or Masky could explain it.

"Wait, what?" She started, but Toby was already in the bathroom. She growled in frustration, with her jaw tightening up.

"I don't appreciate it when people try to avoid things with me..." she turned to face the two older males and crossed her arms, still being tense, making it very clear that she doesn't trust either one of the three for one second.

"What is the other mission exactly? And how does it involve me?"

She was sipping on her coffee to keep from attacking the both of them.

"Well, the boss wants you to kill some people." Hoodie put it very bluntly.

Tabby choked on her coffee and began to have a coughing fit.

"Already?... Jesus, I've only been here three days; it just doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me someone with no experience whatsoever and who hasn't been here for long," she said between coughs. She was more awake after that little bit of news.

"Brian, that's unnecessary."

"It's true. And don't call me by my name in front of her. And she will unless she wants to die."

"She's our new teammate now. She has every right to know."

She looked over at Hoodie.

"Jokes on you, I already do. I don't see an issue with that," she said, slowing down with the coughs.

She finally caught her breath. She stood up straight and looked at Masky distrustfully. It was weird to her that he was sticking up for her and being friendly.

"I appreciate you sticking up for me, but please don't do it again. I've already told Toby this, and I'm going to tell both of you. I can take care of myself, don't fight my battles for me."

She didn't mean to sound and be harsh. She was just naturally like that. It was a survival mechanism to her. It either pushed others away and hated her, which was good. She'd instead be left alone by everyone else besides her friend group. Or it showed other people that she took shit from no one and don't fuck with her. Either way, if it got her and her friends to live another day, that's all she cared about.

"It wasn't about protecting you." Hoodie scoffed.

"It was just good ol' Tim keeping me in my place." He sounded bitter.

"And yeah. You're doing it. You get to kill a man and a woman. You get an intimate look at one of the more common ways we get proxies." Hoodie was perched on the armchair.

She then glared at Hoodie, but her expression and tone were spiteful, hateful, and bitter.

"I don't need you to tell me that I'm going to do it when I already said I would. Once I made a choice, I stick by it, and I will go down with the ship to the bitter fucking end".

It was to the point where her darkness was seeping through little by little. Enough to make everyone feel uncomfortable, at least. She was about ready to attack Hoodie if she could get away with it. It just goes to show that the manipulation wasn't going to work on her.

Masky sighed.

"He means that...you will be killing a mother and a father, and we will be taking the children to be trained as proxies. Our boss chooses proxies young. Most proxies start when they're young teenagers, sometimes a little younger. Our boss likes to experiment."

Masky got a cigarette out of a box in his pocket and lit it. At the same time, he reached into the bag at his side, pulling out a picture of the family. The father was tall and handsome, with a medium complexion, dark eyes, and very curly dark hair. The mother was short and a little plump, with friendly green eyes and auburn hair, has done neatly in a bun. They were appropriately dressed. A young boy, around twelve, looked a lot like his parents. He had his father's curly brown hair but his mother's eyes. He was wearing a bright blue suit. There was a girl as well, in a green dress. Her hair was straight but was still the dark color of her father's. She held a book in her hands.

The mother was holding a very tiny baby, fast asleep, and in a little pink bow. They looked like a happy, average family. A family that was about to be shattered: both Masky and Hoodie seemed to regard the fact with indifference. Masky himself had been chosen as a proxy when he was young. Ever since he could remember, he had seen his boss. It used to scare him. His mother eventually gave up custody of him after leaving him in an institution. He left the institution to a foster family. Then another. Then another. Then another. Hoodie, well, he tried not to dwell on what little he remembered.

Tabby's eyes widened.

"P-parents?!"

She dropped her coffee which unfortunately spilled. Her face paled to the point where her skin looked slightly gray. She slowly backed into a couch and tightened her grip on the back of it to the point where her knuckles were white. She had this fearful look to her as she had a flashback of what happened when she first helped taking someone's mother away—but knowing what she knows now. Now she's not so sure if it was just her paranoia that night. Looking back on it now, she was convinced that that specific traumatic incident is 30% of what led her up to be in the position that she's in now. Tabby was just 12 years old at the time.

Both Masky and Hoodie had ruined numerous families and lives. They liked to pretend it didn't bother them, but sometimes, it did. Not in this case, though. The children would live and would be given a new, better life. Masky couldn't tell that Tabby remembered something, but Hoodie could. He said nothing.

"We will be there to supervise." He told her.

Toby soon came back. He sat near Tabby, then saw the picture. He took it and looked at it. He stared at the kids.

She narrowed her eyes at Toby, about ready to call him out on his bullshit. "you know I don't appreciate when people try to avoid stuff with me. It's a cowardly move to me personally, and I don't think you're a coward. If you have something to say to me, good, bad, or otherwise, say to my face, please. Just some advice for next time".

Hoodie continued.

"The older kids will be taken to an institution where they can be transformed and trained. The baby will be taken to the boss." Hoodie spoke with indifference and some amount of coldness

Tabby slowly came back to reality and looked confused. Until what they said processed finally.

"Okay... that's fair enough, I guess....". She started slowly.

The color was returning to her face as she slowly relaxed her grip on the couch. She quickly returned to her usual self. She picked up the coffee cup and cleaned up the spilled coffee. She walked into the kitchen to clean up her dish.

Hoodie angrily turned to Toby.

"See, this is why you need to beat the shit out of new proxies to get them to learn their fucking place! Otherwise, you get mouthy, stupid brats like this one who can't tell the difference between a suggestion and an order! Any other proxy would have just killed her."

Tabby shouted back from the kitchen, "I can fucking hear you! You want to beat the shit out of me? Go right ahead! But I promise you I will fight back! I'm not a little bitch that will take the shit that's handed to her! You think I'm scared of you? Well, you're so wrong!"

Toby sighed and just hung his head.

Hoodie continued, "And if she doesn't learn her fucking place, I WILL kill her."

She heard the next part, "good luck in trying! At least someone else would be competent enough to make a successful attempt, unlike you!"

Hoodie was seething in rage and turned to Masky.

"Are you hearing this bullshit?!"

"Give her a chance to learn, Hoodie." Masky said quietly, "Whether you like it or not, she is our teammate. She might not have that high a standing right now, but it is possible to become very competent in a short time. Toby's living proof of that."

Masky inhaled the smoke and sighed softly.

"There will be no fights. I will not allow it. Hoodie-" his voice became a little commanding. "Go outside and get some fresh air."

Hoodie knew better than to argue. He did as his leader said.

She heard the door slam; she walked back into the living room, still pissed and scratching her ears. And when she's pissed, you could feel the heat radiating off of her, and her ears become rash like so she itches them.

"I don't need to be told what to do a second time. I'm told once. I already agreed fucking agreed to the job. I already said I was going to do the job. Done, set deal."

Masky serenely blew smoke out of his mouth. He seemed utterly unbothered by Tabby's irritation. Toby got up to get some things ready for the little trip. Hoodie was gone. He could kill Tabby if he wanted to. But he was going to calm down. Masky had no desire to argue. He simply sighed.

"You might want to get some stuff ready for the mission. After we do this, we'll be meeting EJ for lunch and anyone else wanting to go on this mission with us."

She took a deep breath.

"Fine"

She was slightly calmer now, at least to the point where she wouldn't take it out on either Masky or Toby. She did what she was told. She just packed up her clothes and products and her two pictures and Autumn's sketches in her black backpack. She put on her shoes and her signature red plaid jacket. She had one strap of her bag slung over her shoulder and waited impatiently to go. Hoodie soon came back, looking a lot calmer. Masky smiled slightly and unhooked his mask from his belt to put it on. Masks were required while on missions. Toby soon came out. He was ready too. Tabby put hers on and just ignored the HoodieHoodie for the time being. Hoodie followed her lead and ignored her as well. Tabby just stuck close to Toby, kept her head down low and her hands in her pockets, and kept silent. She followed the other two out the door.

It was quiet out. Hoodie and Masky were talking among themselves as they walked. Toby walked resolutely with Tabby. They were going to walk to the portal, then steal a car to drive there.

Tabby was calmed down enough. She was lost in her thoughts. She was stuck in between neutralizing her anxiety about her first kill and kind of being excited to go back home in a sense. At least she would be in familiar territory again, and she could go back to her and Autumn's spot to get away from these 3. Tabby kept sneaking glances over at Toby. It was nice having someone by her side. Even if they didn't talk, it was nice to have company. It made her smile a little under her mask.

Toby felt meek and tired. He usually didn't argue with his group. He wasn't all that good at it. But he and HoodieHoodie had some fundamental disagreements on how to train new proxies. It was frustrating. He didn't want Tabby to have to go through the hell he did. Tabby continued not to say anything. She figured at this point it would be best to stick to her fundamental rule of only speaking when spoken to.

Tabby was lost in thought. Killing people who deserved it was one thing. Killing people for survival is another thing that she understands all too well. Killing someone because it's for a job is another thing that she understood. But she didn't know if the parents were what she would deem immoral or not. She was about to take away someone's parents. Just like she did all those years ago. It didn't matter. She already said that she would do the job. That was that. What was eating away at her was that she was about to prove her stepdad right about her. How godawful of a person she was, how she was a monster, how everyone around her would be dead because of her. To her, that was like admitting ultimate defeat. She looked down defeatedly and fidgeted with the bottom of her shirt to keep her anxiety at bay. What would the kids think of her? Well, whatever. Let them figure it out on their own. Let the chips fall where they may.

Toby always hated these missions. Retrieval missions were draining, hard on his psyche, and didn't usually pay well. He tried his best not to think about it. His job was to retrieve the baby, which was the least draining, in his opinion. All he had to do was find the crib and get the child. That baby couldn't be upset with him for destroying her life. The only reason she would cry is if she was hungry or cold or tired. The older kids, however.

Tabby looked like she was about to cry as she felt her demons at her heels as she was reliving that Godawful night. The last thing she wanted to do was to prove her stepdad right. But it looks like she had no other choice. She kept her head down and soldiered on. Thank God her mask covered up her entire face. As she let silent tears stream down her face. She didn't make any noise as she did, so she just stayed deathly silent, not to give herself away. She was so quiet and stealthy that you would forget that she was walking with you.

Toby overheard Masky speaking. The father was someone who was looking into their world. And that couldn't be allowed. That action had made that family their enemy. The way for that family to be redeemed would be through the children. It was cruel. But fair. Tabby understood, unfortunately. The price you pay was very cruel but reasonable if you go looking for shit, you don't know what you're getting into. She learned that from a past babysitter of hers. She paid the price for her babysitter's actions, which was how she got her knowledge on the paranormal. Something that didn't belong in Maplehood but oddly enough somehow belongs here vaguely.

The walk to the portal was thankfully quick. Masky had his bag with him. Hoodie knew what was inside, and so did Toby.

"Okay. Who wants to go through first?" Masky asked

Tabby snapped her head and blinked a couple of times to clear her eyes to make it look like she wasn't crying. She spoke up with an emotionless voice.

"I will"

Tabby stepped through the portal and waited for everyone else. The men soon followed her, arriving nearby. Without a word, Masky began to lead the way. Hoodie was muttering to him.

Tabby followed behind them, following alongside Toby and going back to being silent. She was past crying now. Now she just looked straight ahead, not showing any emotion, but her eyes just look dead on the inside. She continued to fidget with her shirt like she was wringing out someone's neck. Masky led the way.

"The house is 1112 Twelfth St. Keep an eye out."

They were heading towards a neighborhood. It was nice out that day.

Tabby knew that street all too well in her hometown. It was in the downtown area. Three blocks from Rosewood Preparatory school. It was in one of the wealthier neighborhoods. A younger, more childish version of Tabby loved going down that street for trick r treating on Halloween. She deemed it the best place to go because they always gave out big and lots of fancy pieces of candy. Those memories brought back a warming sense of familiarity. It calmed her down enough to the point where she almost forgot that she was about to commit her first kill. The closer they got to the street, the darker the aura felt. But that's because it was close to Rosewood and Rosewood as an unsettling dark, mysterious aura around it with how much bloodshed was wrongfully and violently spilled there. It was the same unsettling darkness that generally surrounded Tabby since she used to go to Rosewood. Everyone who went to Rosewood has it. That's how you can tell they were there. Except hers had a more personal taste and was raw just beneath the surface. It was enough to make anyone feel uncomfortable if you weren't from there or just used to it. Toby and HoodieHoodie didn't seem to care all that much. Masky seemed to notice it but paid it no mind. It was bright out but slowly getting darker. Masky saw parents coming outside to usher their children back inside. Dogs were outside in many of the gated yards. Some barked at the four. Others ignored them.

Tabby kept her head down and mumbled prayers to herself that they wouldn't bring too much attention to themselves. And also that she wouldn't fuck up. Her anxiety and paranoia were sky-high to the point where she was almost jumpy and jittery. Although she desperately tried not to show it. It was to the point where even fidgeting with her shirt wasn't working, and she was slightly squirming uncomfortably. Tabby's mind was racing.

"How does it feel to go into this knowing you're going to prove dad right?"

"How does it feel knowing what you're going commit."

"What would the children say about you? What about Adam? What about Autumn? What would happen if Horatio ever found out?"

"They're going to find out your secrets and what type of a godawful person you are."

"You know dad would be proud of you."

"You're no better than dad and Horatio. If not worse".

Those were the thoughts that intruded in her head. She kept mumbling to herself, "shut up" "that's not true," over and over again like a mantra.

She kept repeatedly and periodically shaking her head to get rid of her thoughts.

Hoodie soon stopped in front of a quaint blue house. The mailbox was painted white. It was cute. The curtains were open. It was easy to look in. Hoodie saw their targets. The mother was holding the baby. The kids were sitting together at the table. The father was serving dinner to the people at the table. Hoodie shook his head.

"Game plan?" Tabby whispered, squeaked out awkwardly. It was evident that Tabby didn't look too good. But her face was emotionless and resolute. It was showing the determination that she would go through with it no matter what.

"Well, I'd hate to ruin their little dinner." Hoodie said sarcastically.

Tabby rolled her eyes at Hoodie.

Masky sighed.

"Let's sneak in."

Tabby nodded at Masky.

"I know these types of houses. These structures are old. And the house is huge. The best way to sneak in would be through the cellar. From there, there's normally an old secret passageway of sorts, what would be a servant's passage. The walls are hollow so we could move through there, and we would end up in the rooms of the house," she explained quietly.

"Alright. Sounds good. Tabby, Toby, you go in through the cellar. Once you get in, open that window-" he pointed to the left one on the upper floor. "To signal for me and Hoodie to come in as well."

"Got it. Toby let's go," she said as she started to sneak to the back of the house towards the cellar.

Even though her stomach plummeted with dread and her footsteps felt heavy. She still kept ongoing. Toby followed her. They passed by the backyard. A little playground was in the back. It was cute. Tabby saw that the cellar doors were locked. But not to worry. Tabby crouched down and began to pick the lock with one of her knives. A few minutes later, the lock came undone. She gently lifts it, not wanting to make too much noise. She slowly went down the cellar stairs. Toby followed her, quiet as a mouse, closing the door behind him. He could see a little in the musty cellar light. Mostly empty shelves. Some old toys. Nothing special. Tabby was scanning for something that resembled a secret door of some sort. Until she found it, it was a bit small. But it was big enough for both of them to fit if they both crawled through until they came into a bigger space, then they should be fine. The door looked like it hadn't been used in years. Tabby could tell that it would open up easily. She used her knife to pry it open. It gently scraped against the floor, blowing a thin layer of dust in their way. Tabby coughed a little bit, silenced it. Toby covered his mouth with his elbow as he sneezed.

"Oh, fuck." He muttered under his breath, then laughed nervously.

He let Tabby go first. Tabby gave him a small smile and a slight chuckle. For some reason, her nerves seemed to calm down around him, which was good for her anxiety. She crawled through the darkened corridor.

"It's small at first, but once we get into the wall structure, it should get bigger, Although it will be a narrow fit for the both of us," she whispered.

Toby chuckled in response.

"I feel a bit like a mouse." He said in a joking manner. He crawled in after her.

"The only time I feel blessed with my small size," she smirked.

Her smirk faded into something more serious.

"To be honest...I have never been more scared in my life than now," she said quietly as she hung her head looking at the ground while crawling forwards and taking a right.

"It'll be okay," Toby muttered to her. "I'll be there to back you up if things go wrong." He promised her. He followed her when she turned.

Tabby stopped dead in her tracks, causing Toby to crash into her. She whipped her head around.

"You know those were the exact last words that my friends ever said to me. Just saying"

She gave a quiet bitter chuckle.

"Who knew that I would spend my entire life trying to prove my step das wrong only today to prove that he was right about me all along. I'm no better than he is" she sounded bitter yet defeated.

Tabby continued straight for a while. They had to take a left and then straight ahead before the corridor expanded into the wall structure.

"Your stepdad is wrong," Toby said. "You are better than he is."

He continued to follow her. "He hurt someone he was supposed to care for. You are hurting our enemies."

"And I hurt his enemy; what's the difference?" she shot back.

He didn't have an answer for her. She sighed

"I don't think you understand," she started.

She paused in her thinking for a minute. She turned left in the corridor. She was debating on how much she should tell him. She didn't want him to think any differently of her. Even though she just met him, she wasn't sure exactly why she cared so much about what he thought. She also remembered her stepdad's threat about if she told anyone what happened, he would find out and either kill them and/her. But Toby was a proxy, and her stepdad was a human; if anything, he could kill him if something weird were to happen.

"I- this-....this isn't my first rodeo...exactly" she hesitated.

"That's okay," Toby said with a shrug.

"You know, killing doesn't make you...bad, right?"

Toby knew she still thought like a human. But once she entirely switched, she would understand.

"I know...that it's necessary. Because I plan to when I get my revenge so my friends can finally crossover and are at peace if they already haven't, that's not my problem," she sighed "it's just that... I've just seen too much death at the hands of the wrong people for the wrong reason...." she referred to her stepdad and Horatio and the teachers at Rosewood.

"And to clear it up, I never killed anyone directly before. Although I've tried countless times with Horatio, I never succeeded."

She hesitated "but that's not to say that I never helped out with the aftermath of it though it wasn't my fault."

They got to the wall structure, so she stood up and walked sideways through the walkways.

"It doesn't matter anyway. The tricky part here is judging when we're on the second floor. Then we can let Masky and Hoodie in," she said

Toby shifted to the side slightly. It was somewhat hot in here.

"I understand. I promise it won't be too bad." He said quietly.

He continued to crawl.

"And we'll just climb as far as we can go, maybe. That should get us upstairs." Toby was a little worried for Tabby.

"Fair enough," she said.

"I don't know if this will help," Toby began," But don't think of it as taking parents away from the kids; think of it more as a way to punish those who have wronged our people and give those kids a purpose. If that's what's bothering you" He was quiet after that, allowing her time to speak if she needed to

"I guess that makes sense...sort of like a second chance....for the kids, I mean" she tilted her head to the side and then nodded.

"After all, my stepdad taught me that if you do something wrong, then you should expect the worse possible outcome, which is usually death. Especially if you go actively looking for shit that you don't understand what you're dealing with. And sometimes, just sometimes, someone else pays for another person's actions. Yet something else I know too well. That was the second life lesson I ever learned" she shrugged.

Toby nodded.

"That's true." He said.

"Both of those things are true." He sighed quietly.

"I know. I experienced them. But that's a story for another day. One, I think you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"I have been through a lot of unbelievable things myself. I can handle it."

Tabby looked over at Toby for a moment. She wasn't sure if he was bluffing and just saying that he could get more information out of her or if he was just trying to keep her talking so her anxiety won't be as bad, to which she was thankful that he was playing into it. On top of that, she was more comfortable telling this story more than the other one that she was going to. She could deal with the fact that he would think that she's crazy afterward than him judging her entire character.

"Alright, I'll tell you. So, to preface this. I've always been able just to see the paranormal. I guess I was just born with it. Although throughout my childhood, I've always been able to see these wispy tall, lanky shadowy figures. I have no idea what they are to this day, and they appeared to be less and less as I got older, but I still made it a point to talk to them when they showed themselves, even though they never talked at all. They were just there. The first ghost that showed itself to me was when I was six. The rest was from birth and on"

She paused for a moment and looked away from him.

"You probably think I'm crazy already."

"N-no, I don't please..continue," he said softly.

She looked into his puppy dog brown eyes for a moment. It was enough to make her melt, but she would rather die than admit it. She gave in.

"Well, I always thought the extent of my supernatural abilities would just be Sight. But I was so wrong."

"I was four at the time. My mom always worked a lot to provide for us my entire life. So I never really saw her. I don't hold that against her though it is what it is" she shrugged. "This was before my stepdad came around permanently, so I was always passed off from one babysitter to another," she smirked "none of them lasted a week with me, but my thing was don't tell me what to do in my own house when I am practically self-sufficient even at that age, and I know the rules and my routine better than some stranger who's in my territory. It started like any other day. But it just felt off like the entire day just felt off. Like, you know how a dog can tell when a thunderstorm will hit, and they act all weird? That was me. I could sense that a storm was brewing, and it wasn't one in nature. I could tell something bad would happen; I didn't know what at the time. I thought it might happen to my mom, and that's why my intuition was screaming at me. So I begged her not to go to work that day, but just like every adult, she brushed me off and didn't listen to or believe me. Idk there was just this ominous feel in the air. This time my babysitter was a stranger that my mom managed to hire—a fifteen-year-old blonde petite girl named Maggie Hemmington. At the time, I thought she was an adult, but then again, anyone older than 10 is an adult to you when you're four years old. She wore stuff that expressed she was into the occult stuff. When she came over that day, the feeling that something bad would happen jumped to 1000. I became more insistent and screaming, crying, and begging my mom not to leave me alone with her. But again, my mom brushed me off and tried to reassure me the best she could. In the end, she left for work and me alone with that bitch. The day was awful, with lots of fights and screaming at each other. She was just an awful person; she didn't even do her job. I still had to go and take care of myself. Eventually, she made me go to bed early, saying that she would have friends over and she didn't want a brat like me to get in the way. Which she wasn't supposed to have friends over, to begin with, but after the day I had, I was more than happy to oblige. The quicker I went to sleep, the quicker I could wake up and have it be the next day. So like the good kid I once was, I went up to my room, and surprisingly, I fell asleep naturally".

Tabby took a deep breath before she continued talking.

"It was around midnight, or so I would like to believe. I honestly don't remember much of what happened that night. I only remember what I remember due to months of pushing through the painful headaches and flashbacks accompanying me ever since. I don't remember the full story, so I'm probably missing a few parts, but I remember enough to piece together a semi-complete story. I remember waking up to Maggie and her friends screaming. I was scared and confused as to what was happening. Hindsight is 20/20. I probably should have just stayed in bed. Although, to be honest, I don't think that this night wouldn't have ended differently, even if I did just stay in bed. And in all actuality, I didn't hate her or any of her friends, for that matter. At least, not enough to leave them to their deaths. What if they were in trouble? I was the only one there that could do anything. If I didn't, that would make me a coward, and I wouldn't be able to live with myself. What if they were dead? Then what? If I did go down there and saw what I saw if they were dead, how would I explain what I saw to the police? To my mom? All these questions and choices ran through my head. However, my pride and what little compassion that I had got in the way. I didn't raise myself to be a coward, and I wasn't going to start then, and they sounded like they were in trouble. They needed me. So I chose to sneak downstairs to see what was up and figure it out from there. The apartment itself was quite old, so the staircase was creaky. However, some spots weren't creaky; I knew where they were. Going down the stairs was like doing an intricate dance to avoid the creaky spots. I crouched down halfway down the staircase. The apartment had dim lighting, so there were lots of shadows all over the place. I was wearing a black nightshirt, and I was tan and small enough to hide in the shadows. I looked through the bars of the stairs, and I saw Maggie and her friends huddled together with the look of absolute fear in their eyes, staring straight ahead and an ouija board in front of them. I couldn't see what they saw at the time. But I could feel a dark and powerful aura that was around. It was uncomfortable and overwhelming. It was almost suffocating. As I called it, the entity didn't know what it was since I couldn't see it, but I could feel it and hear it. All that I knew was that it was a malicious entity. It kept coming closer to where I was hiding. I crouched down more to make myself appear smaller. But the entity snatched me up, and as far as I knew, I was levitating in thin air. The entity had a suffocating grip on me. I don't remember much because Maggie, her friends, and I were too busy screaming, crying, and I was trying to fight my way out. I even tried to bite the entity, but that only resulted in it tightening its grip on me even more. Maggie was trying to negotiate a different price for summoning the entity Since it said that it required a sacrifice as a price for summoning it. And well, I was it. After hours of screaming, crying, and negotiating, they came to a compromise. What that compromise was, I have no idea to this day. But all I remember is a pressure on my forehead and just a flood of painful life truths and knowledge on more paranormal creatures and how to deal with them. I was screaming and crying in pain and agony. It was too much all at once, and I felt like my head was going to explode. The night seemed to go on forever to me. I thought that it would never end. After the entity was done, I blacked out. I can't tell you what happened after even if I tried. This is why I don't mess with horror movies, witchcraft, and ouija boards to this day. I don't go actively looking for stuff that I don't understand what I'm dealing with."

She checked to see if Toby was still listening, which he was. She was already in way too deep. There's no backing out of this story now. She was going to finish it.

"The next morning, I woke up back in my room in my bed. I had a painful headache in the center of my forehead, like the equivalent of a nasty hangover. I was perplexed as to what happened last night. I knew something happened. I didn't know what. That is until the painful knowledge that I received last night came flowing back like a flood. I was crying and screaming in agony until the flashbacks subsided. My mom came running in to see what was wrong. She asked me what was wrong. But I couldn't tell her the truth about what happened last night. She wouldn't have believed me anyway. Instead, I just cuddled up to her and held onto her tight, and just cried until I ran out of tears and was reduced to a sniffling, hiccupping mess. I just suffered in silence while my mom rubbed my back and petted my hair."

Toby looked at her, confused.

"I mean would your parents believe you if you told them this exact story?"

"Absofuckinglutely not," he answered honestly.

"That's what I thought."

She paused for a moment before taking a deep breath before continuing again.

"The next three months was a bitch to deal with. I was a mess. I still did what I needed to do. I went to preschool, although I was more antisocial than usual, and I was jumpier. I was just more of a broken quiet, my wide hazel eyes had a haunted look to them on top of them being slightly sunken back, and I had dark circles under them; I wasn't sleeping much during those three months. It was an awful sight. I was almost sickly skinny; I wasn't eating much for those three months as well. It was evident that I was a shell of my former self. After preschool, I ate the bare minimum to stay alive and shower when I had the energy to do so. I didn't want to be out of my room longer than I had to. I was afraid the entity would come back for me. The rest of the time, I laid in bed with my covers pulled up, staring at the wall or ceiling for hours on end, just empty-headed and crying when the flashbacks and nightmares occurred. The worst part was that I was alone. Mom was either working or sleeping, and she knew that my trauma had to do with Maggie, so my mom stopped with the babysitters and just left me alone. She wasn't supposed to, but she didn't know what else to do. I didn't tell my stepdad about what happened. And I used to tell this man everything and anything. Back then, we didn't have secrets from each other. But I couldn't tell him this. He wouldn't believe me if I told him. The only ones that I told were my friends when they gained enough trust. So I kept it to myself. My stepdad didn't push me back then. He knew when to back off and respect my boundaries. He dropped it when I didn't want to talk about it. He knew something happened to me but didn't know what. He checked up on me when he was there to make sure I was okay and got a little bit of something to eat. He wasn't always like the way he is now. But that's long gone. You think I'm bad now? You should have seen me in that state back then" she gave a bitter quiet laugh.

"A month had passed since then, and my stepdad had enough of me being bedridden. He gave me this piece of advice that I live by to this day. He sat on my bed and rubbed my back. It was an awful day. The flashbacks and headaches were non-stop, and sleep was nonexistent. He said he could tell that I was scared, and he hated seeing me like this every day. He also said that he knew that I wasn't a coward, and he knew a way to help me face any fear that I would have. That caught my attention, so I sat up a little to pay better attention. He told me this: The more you know, the less you have anything to be afraid of. After all, you can't be afraid of something if you know what that thing is. He left me alone after that, and it was something to think about. I gave myself a week to think about it. By Friday, I decided that I had enough. I didn't want to be stuck in bed. I was tired of the constant flashbacks and headaches. I was tired of living in fear. It's not a fun way to live as I would discover that realization again later on in my life, and guess what? That night when I decided to start not being afraid anymore was the first night that sleep overcame me with no flashbacks and headaches the following day. I guess as I started to make peace with what I was about to do, had something to do with that too".

"The next day, before my mom left for work and my stepdad came over to babysit me, I told them my decision and asked if I could go to the library. I figured that the first step to not being afraid is getting everything on that subject. My mom agreed and left her library card for us to use. I didn't get my own until I was six. I think my mom was just relieved that I wouldn't be bedridden anymore and that I was actually going out to get some fresh air. After my mom left, I grabbed the black backpack he gave me, and we went to the library. I got every book I could on the supernatural and how to deal with them. I definitely got some confused and concerned looks from the librarians and my stepdad. I ignored the librarians, and my stepdad didn't push it. I assumed that he picked up on the type of books that I was getting and figured out what I was scared of, but he was more than willing to help conquer my fears. We checked them out, and we had a month with them before we had to return them. My backpack was so filled that it made me look like an oversized turtle. I wasn't a good reader back then to reading comprehension. It wasn't my strong suit back then. But I was one hell of a writer. So even though he was confused about the subjects that I picked, he helped me with reading the books and helped me take down notes. The more I understood, the less I was becoming less and less afraid. The next step to me for not being afraid was getting the full story of what happened that night. To tell you the truth, I honestly didn't really remember what happened exactly. I remember bits and pieces of what happened due to flashbacks and memories but not in order. And I don't remember what happened after I blacked out about my thought process because I can finally understand and not be afraid anymore if I learned the truth of what really happened. Despite me staying out of my room more and more, I still spent an equal amount of time there. I would deliberately sit myself down and go through that day's events, walking myself through step by step. It wasn't until I got to the par I was snatched, and then the flashbacks would come back intensely. But nevertheless, I pushed through. I would always have a bad headache after each and every session. Literally, my diet consisted of whatever I ate and children's T. It wasn't easy, and there were days where I stepped back from the progress that I made, but little by little, I got to piece together as much of a complete story could. Over time the flashbacks and headaches became less and less frequent as I got older. Occasionally, I would get the nightmare of that nevertheless, always be followed by a headache in the center of my forehead. Still, I wMye some ibuprofen and be on my way. They don't happen as much anymore like they used to. Over time I became less and less afraid, and I became well more normal after that. Well, as normal as I could get after an event like that. I was happy more often. I had my dad/best friend. I pushed boundaries; I got time-outs and early bedtimes. I played with my toys and with him, and I went to preschool, and I ate a lot and regularly more often. I was doing fine. I was getting better".

"Anyways, that's my experience with people fucking around with shit that they don't understand, and then someone else had to pay. I'm pretty sure that this was also 30% of what lead up to me being here," she sounded bitter and looked away.

Toby had listened carefully to her story. He somewhat understood. He never had experiences with the paranormal like that when he was a kid. He had so many more questions for Tabby. Her story made him even more curious about her, but he knew better than to bombard her with them here and now. He hasn't known her for very long, but he knew he was the type of person to beat the fuck out of someone if they didn't back off. Or, at the very least, cause a scene. Maybe he'll try a different approach later when they had more time and alone and settled in. I mean, she already told him one of her most traumatic stories. So she was starting to trust him somewhat. Maybe she would say to him more. Perhaps finally, he found someone with the same pains as him, and they can cope together. He wondered, in the pit of his stomach and the back of his brain, if some force that was not his own made him stop his group from killing Tabby. He honestly had no clue whatsoever. Maybe, maybe not. He knew he had to respond to what Tabby had said, so he did.

"Hm. It doesn't sound like the weirdest thing I've heard." Toby said honestly. "Don't tell him I told you, but Ti- I mean, our boss stalked Masky for years before joining. The whole situation is up on Youtube. He's been trying to get it taken down."

Masky had told him about his life before he was a proxy. The hospital. The medications. Tim was screaming at the staff to believe him when he told them about the monster he saw. It was very lonely for him, and Toby assumed that it must've been very lonely for Tabby as well.

"I won't tell. I'm not a snitch. I'm not the one to snoop around in someone's business," she gave a small reassuring smile.

"You're probably right, though; about that probably leading you to here. Experiences with the paranormal usually either bring people to us or get them killed. I think that name sounds familiar. Maybe Maggie was someone my group has killed in the past. I'm not sure, but I think so. I'm sorry you went through that so young, though."

"I appreciate your sympathies...and it's whatever now I learned to cope. That's why I don't have any sympathies towards people who go actively looking for stuff. You knew what you're getting yourself into; you pay the consequences. If your group did kill her, I would thank you for that. The bitch had what was coming to her," she sounded dark and cold.

It took a minute for her to process what he said entirely.

"Wait, hold on. You believe me?"

"Yeah, I do believe you," Toby said.

Tabby just looked at him as she kept crawling. She wasn't exactly sure how to feel about this. All she can say is that she felt a weird rush of relief and adoration for the stranger behind her. It almost like he was the best thing ever.

He suddenly stopped crawling and grabbed Tabby's leg to let her know to stop.

"Do you think this is the place? It feels a little cooler, so I think it's by a window." He placed his hand on one of his hatchets.

"I think so. We should check"

Toby nodded and moved so Tabby could wiggle out first. She probably knew this better than he did. Tabby got out first. It turns out they were in the parents' room. And the window was open. She gave a thumbs up out the window to let Masky and Hoodie know that they could come in. She turned to face Toby.

"Alright, so I thought that I should take out the parents first, so that way all you guys have to do is just get the kids. So we're going to need to create a distraction to lure the parents up here. The least I can do is make sure that the kids don't have to see them being brutally murdered" she looked down.

"That might not be an option," Toby said quietly, "They may see...we have to try to get them not to see. I'll tell Tim and Brian to take the older kids while I get the baby. That should leave you a window of opportunity to do what you need to do."

Toby looked around. The parents' room was tidy and lovely. Pictures hung on the wall. What looked like their wedding photos. A baby photo of a baby in a little blue hat. A photo of the son as a toddler, with food all over his face. A picture of the boy with a newborn baby in a pink hat. Those were all over the walls. Photos of the stages of the family growth. He also saw some exercise equipment that the parents used in the room when they could.

"Well, I'm going to try to make it an option."

She took a deep breath, "you go hide somewhere and then take the baby. I got this"

It was evident that she didn't believe it. She lifted a heavyweight ball that was in the room. She gave it a good bang against the wall.

"Now go!"

Toby and Tabby slipped into the closet as they heard the dining sounds cease, and footsteps came up the stairs. He hoped it was the mother, as she was the one he had seen with the baby. The footsteps paused outside the door. Then he heard it open. Toby and Tabby peeked out from a crack in the closet to see the woman standing there, a look of confusion and shock on her face. She held her baby in her arms. She stood there for what seemed like minutes but was seconds. Then she screamed and turned to run back down the stairs.

"PAUL! TAKE THE KIDS AND GET OUT-"

Toby heard crashing downstairs. Ah. Hoodie and Masky.

Tabby and Toby ran with the speed of light, and she tackled the woman down the stairs. The baby flew from the mother's arms on impact, but luckily Toby caught them. She tumbled down with the woman. That's going to leave a couple of bruises later. She honestly had no idea what she was doing; she had no idea how to kill. So she fell back on the basics of what her stepdad has taught her. "go for the throat," she said in thought. She took out her knife and pulled the women's head back by her hair, and jammed the knife into the back of her neck in the hypothalamus gland causing instant death. The baby was unharmed.

The woman was bleeding out on the stairs. The baby was crying, mainly because the whole situation was probably terrifying for someone so small. Toby gingerly picked the baby up, searching her over for injuries. The woman was dead. Now Tabby just had to get the dad.

Tabby saw the dad standing there in shock with the kids to the side. Tabby gave an apologetic look to the kids that said I'm so sorry. Then she looked at the dad again, and she felt anger boiling in her. Why did he look so shocked? He should have been prepared for the consequences of actively looking for shit that he didn't understand. What did he expect? What made Tabby angrier was that now someone else had to pay the consequences for his actions. Because he brought his children into this mess, and now they have to suffer. She lunged at the dad and just aimed for the throat. She had enough momentum behind her to have enough force to knock down the dad. Blind anger and Rosewood's and her darkness engulfed her. She lived up to her reputation as Karma.

With that, her vision turned red and blacked out.

[digitalstowaway]

Wright! Don't jinx this case any worse than it already is! It's bad for my heart...

Edgeworth didn’t remember ever going to bed. He had a fairly strict ritual he usually followed every night while in the middle of trials. Trudging through the front door, changing out of his suit and folding it on his dresser, plugging in his phone, brushing his teeth with his eyes half-closed, and finally falling into bed for a nice six hours of sleep. 

He was quite confused when he woke up and felt a mattress and pillow under him and blankets tucking him in without any memory of getting there. 

But then he felt a familiar tight ache in his chest and a familiar beeping, and he realized that no, he hadn’t put himself to bed the night before. He had, however, chased a suspect with Wright in the dead of night until he collapsed. He had crashed hard onto his right side. The blossoming pain in his shoulder had done nothing to distract him from the pulsing, squeezing pressure in his chest. 

He opened his eyes. The room spun just a little. Not like the sky had hours before. On his right was an IV drip and a clamp on his finger attached to a machine, letting the world know that his heart rate was higher than it should have been. On his left was Phoenix Wright glaring at him. 

Glaring at him and holding a bag of grapes in his lap. 

“Why do you have grapes?” Edgeworth asked. Talking, he found, left him a bit breathless. 

“I had Maya bring them for you,” Wright said. “I hoped you might choke on the seeds.” 

He threw them on the bed, on top of the sterile-blue blanket. Edgeworth looked at the packaging. There was a painting of a sunny vineyard that stretched for miles and above it, in bold font— 

“Those are seedless.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Why,” Edgeworth coughed and tried disguising it as him clearing his throat, “are you angry?” 

“Because I was just told that you have heart arrhythmia and that you’ve had it for years. And for some reason, despite us being friends, you never thought to tell me until I thought you were dying last night!” 

“It’s not a big deal.” 

“It’s not a big deal? You literally almost had a heart attack. I almost had a heart attack.” 

“And we’re both fine.” 

Wright crossed his arms over his chest. He pointed his glare to a white board across the room which declared Edgeworth as being a fall risk and having last been examined at 5:30 am. Nursing staff really made him feel old. A fall risk. It was just a heart condition. He was an otherwise healthy, young man. 

Who just so happened to collapse every so often when said heart condition took its toll on him after long trials and stressful cases. Or high-speed runs outside abandoned warehouses at night. 

“I don’t think you’re fine, Edgeworth,” Wright said, still giving the white board a look it certainly didn’t deserve. “You look like shit right now.” 

He didn’t exactly want to know what he looked like. He imagined it wouldn’t be surprising. It would be like every time he found himself waking up in a hospital or on the floor of his office or an evidence room. The same pale complexion. The same dark smudges under his eyes. He always looked like a corpse as Gumshoe said. 

“I’m fine.” 

Wright still didn’t look pleased, but at least his eyes had softened. He looked Edgeworth up and down. Probably in search of a tell or some evidence to prove that it was a lie. But he seemed to give up after only a few seconds. Obviously, Edgeworth wasn’t well. But it would be impossible (and pointless) to get him to admit to it. 

“So what do you need to do?” he asked, and it almost sounded like, What do I need to make sure you do? 

“What do you mean?” 

“To, you know, manage it. Do you take medication or something?” 

“I do, but it’s not very effective.” Edgeworth flexed his right hand. He hated the IV catheters. He knew that they would never rip or tear out of his arm, but they were still uncomfortable. With the tape used to keep them in place, he could never forget that the drip was there. “It’s not effective enough, I should say.” 

“Not enough to keep you from keeling over at a crime scene.” Wright rubbed his eyes. “Is there anything else they can do?” 

He looked tired. There was a faint shadow of stubble across his jaw. He was still in his suit, though the tie and collar was loose and his jacket was tossed over the chair he was slumped in. He must have been there the entire night. Probably begging nurses and doctors to let him stay past visiting hours. 

No. Persuading them. Wright was a lawyer. He probably had a neat list of reasons why he should have been allowed to stay that the staff couldn’t argue with. 

But Wright was also Wright. Those lists of reasons definitely came out in a begging tone. 

“There’s an option for surgery,” Edgeworth said. 

“Oh.” 

Edgeworth threw the blankets off of him, disrupting the grapes. Wright jumped up to help him and then to grab his hand when he tried pulling his IV line himself. 

“Let’s call someone to do that.” 

So, Edgeworth waited as patiently as he could while the call button blinked. Wright ran his fingers through his hair. It didn’t have the usual sharpness to it, the gel or pomade or whatever he used worn out by then. 

“What’s the surgery?” 

“It would be to implant a defibrillator.” 

“They can stick that in you?” 

“They can. But it’s not exactly the most practical thing to have done. Not right now.” 

Wright nodded, satisfied with the answer for the moment. Edgeworth wouldn’t tell him that practical timing wasn’t due to risks of the surgery or the severity of the condition but instead his own stubbornness. There wasn’t much time to carve out for recovery. It would mean weeks of light work. His own definition of light work—no long nights at his office, no on-scene investigations. It was too much to give up for the time being. He had told his doctors so for two years. 

Edgeworth scanned the room. He saw his suit, folded somewhat neatly, on a chair against the wall. His jabot sat on top. Mud was caked on the frills. He remembered desperately trying to pull it off after falling to the ground. 

Wright had finally untied it for him. His phone had been wedged between his shoulder and ear. His fingers were slick, Edgeworth could tell, as he fumbled at the knot. 

The rest of his suit was probably covered in mud as well. Wright’s knees had a faint dusting on them. They looked as if they had been haphazardly scrubbed. Probably in the hospital’s bathroom. 

“What time is it?” he asked. 

Wright checked his watch. “Seven.” 

“We still have three hours until court, then. Did you manage to save the evidence we found?” 

“What?” 

“We have trial at 10—”

“I know. But you’re not really planning on going, are you?”

“Of course.” 

“You can’t!” 

“Why not?” 

“We just had this conversation. You almost had a heart attack.” 

“And I’ve told you I’m fine. Besides, there’s no one else that can handle this case. You and I have already worked on it for two days now. No one else in the prosecutor’s office will be able to catch up on what we’ve been doing—not to mention, what we have been doing isn’t exactly looked graciously on by the office.” 

Wright grabbed his jacket. 

A nurse walked in. When she saw Edgeworth sitting up with his legs dangling over the edge of the bed, she frowned and put her hands on her hips. She was an older woman—used to difficult patients, then. Wright passed her on his way to the door. 

“Wright—”

“I’m tired, Edgeworth. I’m going to try to sleep as much as I can before the trial.” The nurse began pushing Edgeworth back down into bed. “By the way, I did ask Maya and Gumshoe to grab the evidence. They’ll be happy to know you’re fine.” 

The nurse pushed on Edgeworth’s shoulder. He leaned back against the pillows. His breathing came a little hard. His chest ached more than it did minutes ago. 

Wright walked out. 

After all, Edgeworth was fine.