#but this way y’all can experience the glow up with me over the next 4 months

[yakultii]

28 October / I think it’s gonna be okay guys !

[sweetchup]

A Helping Hand 4: Ghosts of Past // Day 3 🌙

Type: Shalnark x reader

Au?: Savior Au

Word Count: 2,000+

Warning: Past Character death, Bribing, Drinking, Trauma

Author Note: Sorry this came out a little later in the day than expected. I hope people like it and let me know in the comments who you think the ghosts are. Sorry for making y’all cry

<—(Pt.4.3☀️) / (Pt.5)—>

A Helping Hand Masterlist

“All right.” You mutter to yourself, quickly centering the fluffy cat plush on the grave before taking a step back to take a look.

You and Shalnark had done a lot for Pakunoda’s grave, from cleaning up all the dirt and cobwebs surrounding it to getting some of her favorite things to place on her grave. You just hoped, somehow and somewhere, she would be satisfied…

As you wipe the sweat off your brow, you look out the window towards the already night sky. Time had passed by so quickly while you were working. So much so, you had nearly forgotten about Chloe. Thankfully, Shalnark had offered to go grab Chloe for you at the last minute while you finished things up.

“Hey nice job. You even lit the candles.”

Speaking of the devil, you turn around to see Shalnark entering the room, Chloe trotting close right behind him. As the cat comes running up to you, you notice Shalnark holding two bags in his hand.

“What did you get?” You questioned out loud as you lean down to pick Chloe up. Shalnark gives you a confused look before looking at his hand and realizing what you were asking.

“Oh.” Shalnark fumbles with the bag before handing you a can, “I got us a couple of beers to drink.”

“Beers? Shal I don’t think…” You watched appalled as Shalnark proceeded to chug a whole can down in front of you. “...you should be drinking…”

“Oh come on, Doc. A couple of drinks won’t hurt anybody.” Shalnark chuckles out, jumping back onto the rock behind him to sit before pulling out another can. Suddenly as he takes a sip of his next one, a mischievous look flashes on his face. “Hey (Y/n). I say we have a little drinking contest to see who has a bigger toleran—.”

“Nope” You deadpanned, not even leaving room for Shalnark to argue back. As a gust of wind passes through the old building, causing it to moan lightly under the wind’s strength, you feel a shiver run up and down your spine. Damn, even though you were wearing a ski jacket and scarf it was still cold.

Shalnark lets out a small sigh to himself before shrugging his shoulders, “Fine, Fine. Guess I’ll have to drink this all by myself then.”

“Shal no—.”

Quickly, you attempt to take the can from Shalnark’s hand but the male caught onto your intentions and was much faster than you. Holding the can far away from your reach, you glare up at him in annoyance.

Unfazed by your threats, Shalnark leans forward to you and whispers, “Then, Drink with me (y/n).”

After a couple of minutes of staring each other down, and an attempt from Shalnark to chug down another beer, you realize you have to give in. Sucking your teeth in, you, begrudgingly, open a can and take a sip. Instantly, you feel yourself cringe at the bitter taste the beer held. It definitely wasn’t your type of drink to have.

“Am I sensing a chicken?” Shalnark teases out, already in the process of crushing his second can in his fist. You send him a quick glare, already wanting to just strangle him right then and there, as you bring the can up to drink from again.

You can feel the alcohol flow through your body almost instantly as Shalnark makes you drink more. It was just like what those textbooks you were forced to read in college said. You felt it in your brain first, euphoric and relaxed as if you had no worries in the world. Like a false haze fell over your eyes, blinding you from the rough truths of the world. Then, you felt it in your muscles. Your speech was getting more and more incoherent, your hands were shaky and, eventually, it got to be such a struggle to even stand that Shalnark had to help you sit down next to him…

To him…

You let out a small giggle to yourself as you stare at Shalnark. His blonde locks shimmering under the light blue glow of the moonlight as he tipped his head back once more to take a gulp from his can. His Adam’s apple bobbing back and forth a couple of times as he swallows before he pulls the can down to rest against his thighs. You watch as his aquamarine eyes, that seem weirdly more blue now, turn to look over towards you.

“What?” He questions out, his words coming out as a whisper, “Why are you staring at me?”

Because your Handsome, obviously?

Perplexed, you watch as Shalnark suddenly throws his head back in a fit of laughs. What… What was wrong with him?

It takes a couple of minutes but eventually Shalnark calms down and looks at you; his face covered in a wide grin.

“Handsome, Huh?” He teasingly questions out, giggling slightly as you choke on your drink. As you hack your lungs out, you can hardly let out anything, only able to muster a small murmur of a word after a couple of minutes.

“W-whAt…”

Shalnark gives you a moment to compose yourself, handing you a water bottle after your coughing calms down before proceeding to explain.

“I think you might have drinked a little bit too much if you can’t distinguish between your thoughts and what you say, Sweetie.” You flash Shalnark a quick glare at his statement. He seemed to be having a playdate with the amount of teasing and reactions he has been able to wring out of you. You will admit it was funny at first but now it was just getting plain annoying.

Just give him a good smooch. It’ll shut him up real good.

You nearly choked on your water as you proceeded to quickly spin around. What in the world was that. There wasn’t anyone else around from what you could see and sense but you could have swore you heard another’s male’s voice. It couldn’t be Shalnark either. The one you heard was ruff and rumbly, nothing like Shalnark’s. So—

“You okay?” Shalnark calls out, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You feel yourself pause for a minute, your thoughts needing a minute a couple of minutes to catch up to you before answering, “Ah… Yeah. I just thought I heard something…”

Shalnark thinks for a second before letting a light hum in response.

“I don’t hear anything. Well… Unless you count Chloe rolling around in the petals—“

You cut Shalnark off with a loud gasp, “Chloe No. No. No!”

Quickly, you scamper over to Chloe, picking up the cat before she could possibly roll and knock over anything on the grave. She was usually quite the respectful cat, not much to cause trouble, so it surprised you that she was acting like this. You hoped the gods, or whatever supernatural force that existed out there, won’t strike you down for your cat rolling around on Pakunoda’s grave like that.

“What’s with you Chloe… you never roll around like this unless someone is giving you belly rubs—” You end up cutting yourself off as a loud yawn forces its way out of your mouth. Oddly, the tiredness of today’s events suddenly hit you like a truck making you feel absolutely drained.

“Eh? Tired already?” Shalnark chuckles out as you practically collapse next to him. “You do know our hotel is on the other side of the city right?”

“Please tell me you’re joking…” You pleaded out. You knew, from experience, how hard it could be to grab a cab this late at night especially if your hotel is on the other side of the city.

“Sadly not Princess.”

You let out a small whine as you defeatedly fall backwards to lay on the rocks.

“Well, didn’t you stay here with the troupe for a while? Do you possibly have a place to sleep here, just for tonight?”

“Well, we do. But, when we stayed here in York New it was during the summer, not the winter. So we don’t have anything that could possibly keep us warm except for the candl— what…” You sit up a little as you hear Shalnark pause and suddenly rummage through his plastic bag, “A Blanket…”

After hearing what he found, you fully sit up and lean over his shoulder to take a look.

“That’s actually perfect.” You murmur out, reaching down to touch the fabric, “It’s big enough for both of us and the fabric is extremely thick to keep us warm. We will be perfectly fine if we have this and our jackets on.”

“I-it’s not that. It’s just I didn’t— this wasn’t… in the bag before. I didn’t buy this.” Shalnark mumbles out confused as moves around the blanket. Testing to see if he was really seeing what was in front of you two.

“Perhaps… you accidentally grabbed it or switched up with someone else’s bag?”

“W-well no. I didn’t see the blanket when I took out the drinks earlier—“ Shalnark is cut off as you take the blanket from him. As you unfold the fabric, Shalnark sighs to himself. What was he thinking? Getting all worked up over a blanket. You were likely correct, he or the cashier likely misplaced a blanket in his bag. Shalnark huffs out a laugh as a sudden thought comes across his mind. Uvogin would surely beat his ass if he saw Shalnark suspicious of a mere blanket.

A frown slowly makes its way on Shalnark’s face as his thoughts escalate. What was he doing? Sitting here like a school boy with a crush, falling hopelessly in love with you. He wasn’t dead, he still had his nen, the rest of the troupe is very much still alive… and Hisoka was still on the loose. Plus, if…

“What's important is the survival of the whole, not the individual."

"The worst case is all of us dying. The end of the Spiders."

… Hisoka actually succeeds in killing the other spiders then he would have to rebuild the spider… Right? And, you… you couldn’t come along with him if that's the case. You live in a different world than him. You were a caring doctor and he a cold blooded kill—

Shalnark winces as a firm smack hits the back of his head, nearly sending him flying forward.

“Ow. (Y/n)... what in the world was that for?” Shalnark grumbles out annoyed as he massages the back of his head. He’s not sure why you’re mad but you didn’t have to hit him that hard.

“Huh? What are you talking about?” You questioned out. As Shalnark spins around to give you a piece of his mind, he pauses. You… you were on the total opposite side of the giant flat rock in the process of setting up the sleeping area. “Ah. Do you mean these pillows? I found them in the corner. It’s so weird, they are practically brand new.”

“Oh yeah… that's it…”

If you were over there, then who smacked him. Was it…

… A Ghost?...

… No, no. That’s totally absurd. That’s the type of stories the boss would believe in, not him. He just… drank too much. Yeah, That’s it.

As Shalnark finally calms himself down, he decides to make his way over to you. Slowly, as you two settle down to sleep onto the cold surface, Shalnark can already feel you begin to drift to sleep off in his arms. He, very carefully, pulls you closer to him.

As he does so, he can hear the faintest whisper off in the distance. He almost mistakens it as the wind if it weren’t for the distinct familiarity in the voice.

Be selfish, Kid…

.

..

…

“Uvo…?”

Shalnark decided that night…. that you two were going to leave York New the very next morning.

Taglist: @meromelodi, @quartetstarheaven , @yumezai , @lvndrhwis, @writtenappreciation , @jojo-sinner, @pastelbear12 , @aly-kurta , @bbunnycore , @feifood , @akobere7u7 , @aleksa784

[englandamericaitaly]

8 Favorite Works of the Year

I was tagged by @novantinuum and @cynthi-universe so I finally got around to doing this! 

https://cynthi-universe.tumblr.com/post/637995134496178176/8-favorite-works-of-the-year  https://novantinuum.tumblr.com/post/637820144906813440/8-favorite-works-of-the-year

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 8 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome work. 

These definitely won’t be in any particular order- just the order I find them in. 

1. Healing: I absolutely adore how this came out to this day, and that’s hard for me to manage because I’m so hyper-critical of myself. The colors are just so lovely, and it gave the exact mood I was hoping for. 

2. And Aren’t I A Fool?: This. Flippin. Painting. I am so utterly proud of it and myself for making it. It’s just *chef’s kiss* and the rarity of me saying that about my own work is ridiculous. From her gem to her eyes to her hair to even the little details in the background, I love everything about this piece. 

3. If I told you what I was-: I actually tried out a lot of new things on this, and every single new thing that I tried ended up working out for me in it. Try new things. Usually it doesn’t work, but sometimes it does. 

4. Not Enough Stars in the Sky: Okay, this is the first real fluff I have ever written, and this shit is adorable. I’m still so proud of myself for it. It’s too cute at the end, and I really like the writing I managed for it. 

Stars were always everywhere in Steven’s life. From the designs on his dad's van (his first childhood home) to the open night's sky in summertime where he could gaze at the cosmos before he ever knew what was out there to almost every single shirt he'd ever owned. From the stars plastered across the clothes of every member of his family to the small glowing stickers on the wall of his bedroom once he actually had a room and house.

5. Isn’t It Over?: More angst. This year was a hard one for me (along with basically everyone else, of course), so I drew a lot of angst honestly. A lot of people crying and a lot of emotion into every piece. But I like how they turned out because of it. And then they end up with pretty colors and Much Relatable Gay, I can’t help love it. 

6. What Went Untold: Once again, I’m still so happy with the writing of this one. My style was on point, and I put a lot of personal experience into it which I think really helped to build it up. 

He’d never told them.

How could he tell them?

It was, without a doubt and with no exaggeration, the most traumatic experience of his entire life. More than the multiple times he’d been kidnapped, more than the countless times he’d almost died, more than all the times he’d saved the world, more than shattering someone, more than corrupting from his own horrible mental health. It didn’t help that he couldn’t even remember it all clearly which gave it an aspect of being unknown and unknowable—of not even being sure it was real at times despite how horribly vivid the memories were at the same time as being all muddled.

7. I never asked...: More vent art, more crying, but more progress with my painting!! Especially in combining SU’s style with my own. 

8. Fallen Stars AU: I may not have the most work done on this AU yet and have a lot more to plan out for it, but I honestly really love it. I haven’t gotten to work on it nearly as much as I want to yet, and I sincerely hope I can do better this next semester. 

This year has been so awful in so many ways, but I honestly have not ever had a year where I’ve been more proud of myself when it comes to art. I’m not even close to where I want to be with it, but I’ve progressed so much and think I can actually pat myself on the back for this one for once. And thank you to everyone who has been a support for me throughout this year, especially when it comes to my art. Love y’all!! 

P.S.: I don’t really like tagging folks and the two people I would’ve tagged are the ones who tagged me, so if you want to do one of these, feel free to say I tagged you and have at it!! 

[spookyvalentine]

1 4 5 7 13 17 25 33 48 57 85 for mercy!

1. What is their gender?

mercy is nonbinary--specifically, agender! they are a genderless ungendered 6’ 2” void of gender. 

the shelter that took mercy in as a baby--and the fosters they’d been bounced around in as a child--never referred to mercy as anything other than they/them, maybe from some sort of ‘let the kid self-determine’ thing that’s way more common in the future (and, also, it’s a little easier for the adults to be impersonal? There’s just. A lot of kids)

4. Do they have any siblings? How many? Are they older or younger?  Which sibling are they the closest with?

no siblings. at least, none by blood that they know about. once, mercy thought that maybe, maybe, they might have... but it's too late now.

mercy and kasumi are practically siblings

5. What’s their relationship with their parents like? What about other relatives?

no parents or relatives to speak of, either. their most stable part of their childhood was brief, nearly two years. they were fostered by the henry's (royann and jo ellen). unbeknownst to mercy, the henry's had an adoption appeal that was denied after mercy is sent to juvie for the second time--and never sees them again. 

anderson is eventually, basically, dad-adjacent 

7. Are they in a romantic relationship? With who? How did they meet?

thane :’)

the only thing really tali remembers about being there meeting thane was the face mercy made after he dropped out of the ceiling, because she’d never seen them react like that to a person before

some of the crew are in frustrated tears about it like oh god make out already please shepard you know you’re flirting with him right you’re just beaming at the man while in his space and staring at his mouth, get a grip, and he’s just as bad,

kasumi just starts banging her head on the counter bc when the fuck are they going to get it and also mercy show some self-control you just can’t eyefuck like that in public

it... takes a while for things to click for mercy

13. What do they do for fun?

exploring as a tourist, not as a soldier. 

produce markets, botanical gardens, natural wonders, museums, street food vendors... there’s just so much life and mercy wants to soak it all in. they like popping into secondhand stores and combing through all the little trinkets and finding things for the people they love (anderson has a curio cabinet of glass figurines that mercy’s sent him over the years on assignments. he likes to think most of them were purchased)

one of their favorite things, though, is to go through music collections--the way it feels to thumb the old physical copies in decorated sleeves and flick through the orange glow of vid files, sit in a really good chair, and just listen. recently, on sleepless nights, they’ve been going through their own library with edi--an experiment in forming opinion. they don’t go to big concerts, but they really delight in live music performances 

also hack into collection agencies and erase medical debts 

17. Where were they born?

really cant be said for certain, but they were found and raised alongside the bayous and coastlines of the mississippi river. at fourteen, they were sent to a secured juvenile facility in new orleans, which started their new life in a metropolis

25. What is their biggest flaw?

it’s not their biggest flaw, but A flaw (the only one that is readily coming to mind) is that they only use One Pistol and it drives everyone insane even though they’ve always had the right amount of bullets in the end, chill y’all 

i’ll need to think on what their Big Flaw is some more, but i dont to hold up the rest of my answers as i ponder it

33. What is their biggest fear? How would they react to having to face it?

going for another simple answer here for now. i wanna say they watched some zombie movies too young. so seeing the husks, and how that mindless, awful, not-even-allowed-to-be-dead type of continued violence can happen to them and anyone else they know? not a fan. flinging that shit as far away as possible, thank you

48. Do they have any tattoos? What are the stories behind those tattoos?

they had tattoos, before cerberus rebuilt them. 

mercy got a couple pieces for their sixteenth and seventeeth birthdays. sorry for being vague! this is something that's gonna be talked about in the next chapter i'm gonna post, and it’ll have pictures :)

lil spoiler: larger than you're thinkin

57. How do they feel about sex? Are they a virgin?

for nearly all of their life, their sexuality has been I AM BUSY 

therefore, romantic and physical liaisons... haven't happened. once, mercy asked garrus if he thought liara and kaidan were into each other because they were constantly asking them about the other, and didn’t understand why he spat up his beer. mercy’s experienced aesthetic attraction to people before, sure, plenty of times, but neither sexual desire nor romantic feelings was a formula their brain needed to compute til now, here, in their thirties.

they’re not like, weirdly naive or anything. they grew up on the streets and was in the marines--it was just something other people did.

but fuck. fuck!!! things, HA, well, they change (i have written a porn(s) lord if you were kind strike me down)

85. Do they believe in ghosts?

when you’re grown alongside the wild in old, slow places, how can you not?

[someone-somewheresomehow]

Delayed Flight

After 5 months, I’ve finally posted another fic. Are y’all proud of me yet?

Characters: Roman Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Logan Sanders, Remus Sanders

Ships: Intrulogical

Content: Christmas fic bois, also Creativitwins (not ship!!)

Word Count: 3540 (exactly)

AO3

“4 hours?” Virgil groaned. “How can a flight be delayed that long?”

The flight attendant shook her head. “I’m sorry, sir. We could transfer you onto a different flight, if you want?” She offered.

 “No, it’s okay.” Virgil said. He scanned the airport lounge. “I’ll wait.”

 Spotting an empty corner, he walked over and sat down, slipping his backpack off of his shoulders and placing it beside the couch. The rest of the lounge was nearly empty - everyone else had obviously taken the transfer offer. That was fine with Virgil - it meant that it was quieter. Leaning over to his backpack, he pulled out his headphones, connecting them and putting them on. He slipped into the music, the rest of the world fading out around him, pulling out his sketchbook and starting to draw.

 Only a few minutes later, someone came rushing in, disturbing the peace with the huge racket that they were making. Virgil looked up, annoyed, and watched as the person ran over to the desk. “Am I late?” He asked the attendant. She shook her head.

 “No, the flight has been delayed for 4 hours. You’re actually early!”

 The man looked startled, before he composed himself and grinned. “Nice! I’ll find a seat, then.”

 He turned around and surveyed the room. Virgil took this opportunity to look at him properly. The man had tanned skin and light brown hair. He seemed to hold himself as if he believed that he was better than everyone else, and he looked very confident, even if he didn’t mean to.

 The man looked in Virgil’s direction, and Virgil quickly turned back to his sketchbook. But it was too late - the man had spotted him watching and started heading in his direction.

 The man sat down next to Virgil. “I’m Roman.” He said. Virgil stared at it for a moment before shaking it. He looked up at Roman and noticed that his eyes were a bright bottle green that sparkled with excitement and humour.

 “I’m Virgil.” He replied. "Uh, why are you going to New York?"

 Roman’s eyes lit up. “I’m going to Broadway! I’m gonna see Hamilton! They’ve reunited for a tour!” Virgil smiled faintly at the other man’s excitement. “Oh, I’m also visiting a couple of friends. Why are you going to New York?”

 “I’ve also got a friend that lives there. I’m visiting him for a couple of weeks.”

 “Oh, neat! Do you like Hamilton as well?”

 “It’s okay, I guess. It’s kinda overrated.”

 Roman gave a dramatic gasp, placing one hand over his chest. “Overrated?! Virgil, I can’t believe you! Hamilton is an excellent musical, with beautiful songs performed by the wonderful Lin Manuel Miranda, Leslie Odom Jr., Phillipa Soo, and everyone else in the cast!”

 He continued ranting for a few minutes, while Virgil sat in silence. When he finished, he sat, panting from the passion that had taken over him. Virgil stayed silent for a couple more seconds, before smirking. “I never said it was bad. I just said it was overrated.”

 Roman gaped at Virgil. Virgil looked at him for a moment, soaking in the satisfaction that he gained from the flabbergasted look on Roman’s face, before slipping his headphones back on and returning to his drawing.

 Roman waved one hand in front of Virgil’s face, but after Virgil responded with a glare, he moved away, taking his stuff and sitting somewhere else. And for the next few hours, Virgil sat in blissful peace.

 After the flight, Virgil arrived at the airport. He got his luggage from the baggage area and made his way to the exit.

 Outside the airport, he checked his watch. Logan had been prepared to pick him up, but because of the delay Remus, Logan’s boyfriend who Virgil had never met before, was picking him up instead. He was supposed to be here in a minute or two.

 The sky was a cloudy grey, and looked at if it might start to snow. It certainly felt cold enough. Virgil shivered, glad that he had put his coat on before coming outside.

 “Virgil!” Someone called out. Virgil turned, and saw Roman walking towards him, his own luggage in tow.

 “I’m sorry about what I said earlier.” Roman said when he reached Virgil.

 “It’s fine, man. It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

 “I feel so bad, though! Can we meet up sometime so that I can make it up to you?”

 “You really don’t have to-”

 “I insist! We can go out and see the sights together, or maybe see a movie or something?”

 “Fine, sure, whatever.”

 Roman perked up. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, and after a few swift taps, he handed it to Virgil. “Can you put your number in for me? That way I can call you about our plans!”

 Virgil took the phone and entered his number before handing it back to Roman. “Who are you waiting for?” He asked, changing the subject.

 “A friend of mine. His boyfriend was originally meant to be coming, but he couldn’t make it because of the delay of our flight. Annoying, am I right? Anyways, what about you?”

 “Oh, same here! I don’t know his boyfriend, though, so that will be a new experience. I think his name is Remus?”

 Roman gave a start. “Remus? Is his boyfriend called Logan?”

 “Uh, yeah?” Virgil replied, confused. Then it dawned on him. “Are you being picked up by them as well?”

 “Yeah, I am! This is awesome! We can get to know each other properly!” Roman was practically vibrating in excitement.

 Suddenly, a voice called out their names. “Roman! Virgil!”

 They both turned, to see a man running towards them. He had light brown hair, with one grey streak running through it, and had the wisps of a mustache that was just starting to grow. He was wearing a green tank top, along with a pair of black shorts, as if he were immune to the cold. He jogged towards them, one hand waving in the air.

 “Virgil,” Roman sighed. “Meet my brother, Remus, Logan’s boyfriend.”

 “It’s nice to meet you, Virgil!” Remus greeted. “Good that you two have already met! That way we can get the boring ‘making acquaintances’ stuff out of the way!”

 He turned back towards the way he had come, and gestured for them to come with him as he started heading off. “This way!” He called.

 Virgil and Roman set off after him, heading into the carpark. When they reached the car, Roman called shotgun, leaving Virgil to sit in the back. They drove to Logan and Remus’ shared apartment, the way mostly filled by Remus’ constant chatter.

 When they reached the apartment, Roman and Remus led the way while Virgil followed behind. They had started bickering over which musical was the best, Roman going for the obvious choice, which was Hamilton, while Remus went for Beetlejuice.

 Just as they got to the door, Roman turned around. “Which one do you think is better, Virgil? Beetlejuice or Hamilton?”

 “Hmm…” Virgil thought for a moment. “Personally, I think that Beetlejuice is better than Hamilton.”

 “Ha!” Remus crowed triumphantly. He opened the door and turned back to Roman. “I told you so!”

 “But!” Virgil interrupted. “Starkid musicals are better than both of them.”

 “No way!” Remus and Roman both said at the same time.

 “What are you lot yelling about? Hurry up and come inside!” A familiar voice called out from inside the apartment.

 They went inside and were greeted by Logan, who was wearing his usual black shirt and pants. The room was dimly lit, a few overhead lights having been turned on and the rest of the light coming from the soft glow of fairy lights on a Christmas tree in one corner.

 “Hey Logan!” Roman greeted.

 “Hi.” Virgil greeted Logan as well.

 “I’m glad to see that you two are acquainted. I apologise for not being able to pick you up, but the delay put me in a difficult position, as I was unfortunately busy during the time when I would have needed to get you. I also apologise for not telling either of you that the other was visiting.”

 “It’s fine, man. We’re practically best friends now!” Roman threw one arm around Virgil’s shoulders.

 “So you’re dating Remus?” Virgil asked, shrugging off Roman’s arm.

 “Yes.” Logan confirmed. Remus walked over to him and they shared a kiss. Roman and Virgil stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do until they broke apart. Logan’s face was flushed, and he had a lovesick smile on.

 “Did you wear a shirt and shorts in the freezing weather again? One of these days you’ll get sick, and when you do you better not claim that I didn’t warn you.” Logan told Remus quietly before turning back to Virgil and Roman.

 “Let me show you where you’re sleeping.” He flapped one hand aimlessly and led them away.

 The rest of the week was filled with fun - they went shopping together, saw Hamilton on Broadway (which was wonderful - Roman was talking about it for two days afterwards), and even went ice-skating together at a local ice-rink, making sure that they all bundled up to protect themselves from the cold winter’s air. Remus was an excellent ice-skater, and Logan and Virgil weren’t too bad either, but Roman was absolutely terrible, holding on to the wall most of the time. When he mustered the courage to let go, he had to cling on to one of the others to stay upright, often making both of them fall. There was lots of laughter that day, and Roman’s nose turned red from the cold (definitely not from embarrassment, Roman told them), but he restored his dignity when they bought hot chocolate to get warm and Remus tripped over, spilling it all over himself.

 On Friday, they were sitting on the couch, watching TV, just lazing around doing nothing. They had spent the day exploring whichever parts of the city they hadn’t already seen, and were happily resting.

 “Oh!” Roman suddenly cried out. “I just realized! Virgil, I need to make it up for you!”

 “Wha- oh.” Virgil said, realizing what he meant. “No, it’s really fine, Roman, we’ve spent the entire week having fun together, you don’t have to-”

 “I insist! Really!”

 “What happened?” Remus asked. “What did you do, dear brother of mine?”

 “I- in the airport, I kind of maybe accidentally took something he said wrong and went off on a rant about it?” Roman looked down guiltily.

 Virgil sighed. “The dumbass that he is went off on a rant about how I was wrong for saying Hamilton was bad when all I said was that it was overrated. Which is not the same thing.”

 “And now you have to make it up to him?” Remus looked at Roman, a huge grin on his face. Roman nodded slightly sheepishly, and Remus’ grin widened. “Well, there’s a nice cafe around the corner. You two could go there together. It’s new - I’ve been meaning to take Logan there.” Logan and Remus shared a love-filled smile.

 “Wow.” Roman looked back at Remus. “For once you’ve actually had a good idea.”

 “I- for once?!” Remus spluttered. He looked at Logan. “Can you believe what this man is saying?!”

 “Virgil, unless you have other plans, tomorrow I invite you to come to the cafe with me in order for me to make it up to you!” Roman said triumphantly before Logan could reply.

 “Um, sure, I guess.”

 “Fantastic! It’s a date!”

 The next morning Roman and Virgil set off for the cafe. They left Remus and Logan at the apartment, as they were doing… other things.

 The walk to the cafe was a short one, and was filled with talking. For a man that short, Roman sure had a lot to say.

 The bell above the door rang as they entered the cafe. The air immediately warmed up, a stark contrast to the cool Christmasy air outside. The smell of hot chocolate filled the air, and they breathed in deeply.

 The cafe was loud with chatter as Roman and Virgil approached the wooden counter. They waited in line for a minute or two before they were at the front.

 “Hi, what can I get for you today?” The employee asked cheerily, even though they were probably dead inside like most retail employees are.

 “One caramel frappuccino for me, a small black coffee for him, and one slice of apple crumble to share please!”

 They paid and went to their table to wait, chatting a bit more. Their names were called out, and they got their items, before returning to the table.

 “So, do you live in Gainesville?” Roman asked, downing half of his drink in one sip.

 “Yeah, why?”

 “I live there as well! We can meet up sometime after we go back!”

 “Neat! When are you leaving here?”

 “I’m here over Christmas, so about 2 more weeks. You?”

 “I leave tomorrow.”

 “Noo!” Roman cried dramatically, attracting the attention of a few people nearby before they quickly turned back to their own conversations. “So soon?”

 “Yep. I’m celebrating Christmas with my roommate, Patton. He’s a good guy, I don’t want him to spend Christmas alone.”

 “Oh, dang. I get it. Spending Christmas alone isn’t great.” He sighed. There was a short, awkward silence before the topic quickly changed.

 They ate the cake and drank their drinks - Roman finishing his quickly and trying to steal some of Virgil’s, with Virgil having to hide it away from him to be able to keep it for himself - before going back to the apartment. They had decorated it during the week, as the only decoration that they had arrived to was the Christmas tree. Now holly was strung up on the edges of the ceiling and fairy lights hung over doorways. Remus had tried to put up mistletoe everywhere but was stopped by a loudly protesting Virgil. Of course, he would still put it up occasionally, but it was dutifully ignored.

 Virgil knocked on the door, and was greeted by Remus.

 “You guys can’t come in yet! Go away!” He told them, grinning, before shutting the door in their faces.

 Virgil and Roman stared at the plain wood in front of them, as if that would make it magically open, but it didn’t, because doors don’t work that way.

 They exchanged glances. “What was that about?” Roman asked. Virgil shook his head - how would he know?

 The door creaked open a crack, and Remus poked his head out, this time looking disappointed. “Logan said I have to let you in. You just have to wait a moment.”

 “Sure, I guess.” Roman replied as Remus closed the door again.

 There was a short pause while quiet shuffles could be heard from behind the door. “Move it to the bedroom.” They could hear Logan whispering. Loud crumpling pursued, fading off.

 Logan opened the door and Virgil and Roman jumped slightly backwards from where they definitely weren’t listening with their ears to the door. There was an awkward pause, before Logan said, “Come on in.”

 Virgil and Roman shuffled in sheepishly, not bothering to wipe their boots on the mat before pulling them off their feet along with taking off their hats, scarves and jackets.

 “What-” Roman started before Virgil whacked him with a glove, shutting him up.

 “It’s pretty obvious, just use your head and don’t spoil it!” Virgil hissed. Roman turned bright red but didn’t say anything. They both entered the apartment and spoke no more about it.

 The next day, Virgil was standing in the living room, saying his final goodbyes to Remus and Roman before he left for the airport. They had had a wonderful time together, and would certainly be missing each other.

 Remus and Logan stood together. Logan whispered to Remus and Remus nodded before running to the bedroom and coming back, carrying something behind his back.

 “Since you can’t stay for Christmas, we bought something for you slightly earlier!”

 He pulled out a present, neatly wrapped in red with a green bow tying it all together. Virgil took it from him and held it, trying to guess what it was. It was flat, and not too thick - maybe a big book?

 “You can open it now or when you get home, we don’t mind!”

 “I’ll open it now.” Virgil smiled and unwrapped the present, revealing a sketchbook with a plain, cardboard.

 He looked at it for a moment, before flipping through the pages, admiring the plain white pages, ready for him to start drawing.

  “Do you like it?” Logan asked. “We thought you would like it, but if you don’t we can give you the receipt. It is a bit plain.”

 “No, it’s great! Thank you!” Virgil drew both Remus and Logan into a hug, and after a moment where they were overcome with surprise, they hugged back.

 After they broke apart, Roman stepped forward. “I also got you a present, but I’m not sure if you’ll like it as much.” He held out another present for Virgil, this one wrapped in white wrapping paper that had golden swirls all around it with a red bow slapped on top of it. Virgil slung off his backpack and carefully put the sketchbook inside, ready for use for whenever he mustered up the courage to ruin its perfectly white pages with his drawings, which like with every notebook will immediately make him feel bad before he goes on a drawing spree, filling it up with wonderful art.

 Virgil took the present from Roman and unwrapped it, struggling for a minute with the layer of tape that was wrapped around the entire thing before finally tearing it off, along with the wrapping paper. Virgil felt a bit guilty about doing it so crudely, but ignored the guilt and focused instead on the present. In his hands was a pack of pens - a giant packet, with every colour imaginable.

 “I- you bought this for me?” Virgil stammered, shocked.

 “Yeah.” Roman rubbed his neck awkwardly, looking slightly embarrassed. “Do you like it?”

 “Like it?” Virgil carefully put the pens on the couch, making sure that no one would sit on it before launching himself at Roman. Roman nearly fell over, and if Virgil could see his face he would have noticed how red Roman had become.

 “I love it. Thank you so much!”

 Roman stood awkwardly for a moment before embracing the hug, hugging back. They held the hug for a moment more before Virgil stepped back, picking the pens back up and holding them close to his chest for a second before placing it into his backpack, even more carefully than he had put the sketchbook inside. When he straightened back up (though he was still as gay as ever), the room was practically lit by his smile.

 “I have presents for you guys as well!” He handed each of them a package, each one badly wrapped in the same wrapping with the words Merry Christmas printed over and over on it in red and green writing. Logan, Roman and Remus took each of theirs and began opening it, Roman and Remus ripping the wrapping to pieces while Logan completed the procedure more carefully.

 Remus revealed his first - soap and deodorant. He bit into the soap, as he usually did, and was delighted to find that it was made out of chocolate!

 Roman came next - he got a packet of paints. There weren’t as many colours as the pack of pencils, but he was still super happy and excited to use them.

  Logan finished opening his last, the wrapping paper falling away to reveal the dvds of the bbc series Sherlock. Logan was practically vibrating with excitement to watch all of them.

 There were a few minutes of hugs and thank-yous before Logan stepped forward. “Though I hate to be the one to do this, I’m afraid that we have to depart now if you wish to make the flight. Have you got all of your things?” He asked Virgil.

 “I do.” Virgil replied, picking up his backpack and pulling it onto his shoulders.

 “Right, well then.” Logan started heading towards the door.

 “It was great to meet you guys!” Virgil told Remus and Roman, waving before he turned and walked towards where Logan was holding the door open, pulling his suitcase behind him.

 He exited the apartment and waved one final time before Logan closed the door and they headed down to the car.

 They drove together, chatting with each other as music played on the radio, until they reached the airport. Logan walked with Virgil as far as he could, until they had to part.

 “It was great seeing you!” Virgil said.

 “It was! I’m glad you could make it.”

 After a moment they hugged, holding on for as long as they could before letting go. Virgil waved, and started heading off.

 He went through the rest of the process and finally settled onto his seat on the plane (fortunately the flight wasn't delayed this time).

 As the plane started lifting into the air, he looked out the window, headphones placed comfortably on his head, and headed back home.

[darlingpetao3]

Seducing the Gem (Nash Wells x Reader, Chapter 6/9)

Rating: M (Smut in Chapter 6 only)

Summary: When a mysterious package shows up at your front door, you (a famous Romance novelist) are hurtled from your virtually uneventful life and into one of danger and adventure. In a quest to save your captured friend Caitlin from impending harm, you run into a suave adventurer named Nash who helps you along the way. Or is the charming Nash simply after something in your possession…?

Tag List: @tardis-23​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​ @the-marvelatic​ @itsprongs​

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

A/N: This is the smut chapter, y’all!

The wedding ceremony was gorgeous. You and Nash sat with John and Mary on the bride’s side of the aisle. And of course, the bride and groom looked so beautiful and in love that it all just made your heart swell.

During the ceremony, you thought that maybe Nash would make fun of you and your enthusiastic reactions to the event, but he said and did nothing whatsoever. He just sat there, next to you, looking dapper in that suit, and even looked like he was enjoying the change of pace.

There was a moment while everyone sat and waited for the bride to arrive to walk down the aisle when you caught Nash looking at you.

“What?” you had asked him. He shook his head.

“Nothing.”

So you let it go.

But now, as you sit with him at an extra table brought in for you both (as the last minute, but very welcome guests), he’s staring at you again while you eat some of the snacks at the reception.

“Okay,” you say, “this is the second time you won’t stop watching me. What gives?”

Nash adjusts in his chair. “I think your writing’s hot.” he confesses.

“Oh, come on.”

“I mean it!” he insists. “I read a bit from Mary’s copy while you were getting ready today. You’re very talented. Your boyfriend should be proud of you.”

Yeah, okay, you see what he not so subtly tried to sneak into that compliment.

“I don’t believe you actually read it,” you tell him, “and don’t think I don’t know what you just did there.”

“You got me,” Nash laughs, holding his hands up in a surrender gesture and throws in a wink. “But you don’t think I’d be into what you write? That’s a little judgemental, don’t you agree?”

“Okay fine, I believe you, Nash Wells. Your girlfriend is lucky to have such a well-rounded man.”

Nash grins, knowing exactly what you just did there. He makes direct eye contact with you, shaking his head slowly, deliberately, and raises playful brows. That alone gives you your answer to that.

“How do you come up with stuff like that?” he leans forward, voice notably softer.

“I don’t know… I guess it just comes to me. It’s like I’m living in another world.”

“Well, I’m glad you don’t, or I would never have met you.” You’re somewhat glad you weren’t hooked up to a heart monitor because it undoubtedly would have shown a momentary flatline, only to kickstart again. You give a little awkward laugh in response.

“I got you something,” Nash adds, pulling something out of the inner pocket of his jacket. In his hand, he reveals a beautiful yet simple star necklace. He must have gone back to the little market area while you were preparing for today. You hadn’t realized you’d taken so long.

“Nash, it’s beautiful. I love it. Can I…?”

“Here, let me.”

He moves around the table as you stand. You sweep your hair away and over your shoulder so that Nash can put the necklace on you easily. You look down, touching and playing with the little silver star that cools your skin.

You can’t stop smiling for some reason.

And when you turn around to face Nash again, it looks like neither can he.

The soft instrumental sounds of a song begins to play, but you hardly register it because the sound of your heartbeat in your ears seems to drown out the music.

“Let’s dance,” Nash suggests suddenly. Panic in the visible form of a hot flush runs down your body.

“Oh no, I’m not a dancer,” you explain.

“Well come on, I’ll teach you.”

“You dance?”

“I do a whole lot more than just dance.” Nash sends yet another wink your way. “Now, come on, Princess!”

The dashing man leads you out onto the dancefloor with the rest of the wedding guests. Evening has fallen, which gives off a beautiful purplish-blue light along with the yellow glow of the lantern decorations. His hand is on your waist, while yours rests on his shoulder. You’ve written a few dance scenes in your career as a writer, so why aren’t you able to apply what you’ve written into real life? It’s awkward at first, but his quiet encouragements makes it all the more natural and fun. At one point, Nash even does a little solo dance, leaving you laughing at the sight.

Perhaps it’s the music. Maybe it’s the adrenaline of the dance. Or maybe it’s Nash himself, but you feel loosened up. Your hips find it easier to sway, and you let your hands move in the air as you dance. Nash finds the perfect moments during your dances to spin and twirl you, rendering you happily dizzy. After he spins you back towards him, he dips you, and you feel suspended in time, with him gazing down at you from above.

Nash brings you upright again, hand pressed against your back, and draws you in close. Your hands wrap around his neck, and your faces are dangerously close. His lips part, and you watch as his tongue darts out to wet his lips. Your heart races - more so than when those men with guns were after you. This feels so much more intense.

You glance up to meet his eyes, then back down to his mouth. Leaning in ever so slowly to close the gap between you both, Nash’s lips welcome yours with a soft but wanting reception. Needless to say, you’ve both remained in one spot on the dancefloor while the other guests dance and carry on around you.

Truthfully, it feels like there’s no one else around.

The kiss is initially one of innocence, of exploration of each other. But it only takes mere seconds for the kiss to take a turn for the passionate. Much more needy from both parties.

You pull away from Nash, and you can tell that he’s confused for a second, but when you take his hand and lead him back towards John and Mary’s home, you’re certain he clues in. At the rate this wedding is progressing, no one in the village will be heading home for a very, very long time.

You’ll have the place all to yourselves.

The pair of you stumble around once you make it back inside the house. It’s almost dark, but you both somehow make it into your spare room. The click of the door when it closes makes everything hanging in the air seem so much more real.

You step up onto your toes to continue this fantastic kiss-fest, all the while letting your hands begin to undo his suit jacket and peel it down his arms.

For once in your life, you aren’t taking notes on this situation - what it’s like to undress Nash, what it’s like for him to agonizingly slowly pull the straps of your dress down your skin. Though once you’re finally baring all to him, you are hyper-aware of your body and that this man - practically a stranger - is seeing all of you right now.

He must notice you start to feel insecure, but he tips your chin up so that you can see him when he has this to say.

“Stop, you know you’re beautiful.”

In one exhale, you let your insecurities out and inhale the confidence given by his words. Nash leans down to kiss you again, and you continue to lower yourself onto the bed. It’s like he’s breathing life - adventure, comfort, intimacy, everything you write about but never experience - into you with each kiss. It’s unstoppable, but oh so very welcome.

You settle up by the pillows, and Nash moves to hover over top of you. He looks at you with such seriousness, but with the hint of a smile. One hand cups your face while the other runs up your leg, helping it to bend and hold against his naked side.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks you, possibly waiting for any sign for you to end this.

You nod. “Just kiss me, Nash.”

“Yes, Princess.”

He does as he’s told, meeting your lips again while giving into the lust in the atmosphere by rutting down against you. You whine into his mouth and arch your back, letting your chest press to his. His excitement grows stiffer and you want nothing more than him in this moment.

When Nash starts to play between your legs with two fingers, you let out a moan. You feel like you’re running a mile a minute, the exhilaration of this man touching you is unreal. Don’t ever stop, you think, but keep it to yourself. With his now excessively slick fingers, Nash pushes them deeper inside you, letting his thumb play with your clit. You writhe under him and let your head fall back harder into the pillow.

“You like that?” he asks in a sexy, low tone by your ear. You make a high pitched sound in response, but that doesn’t satisfy him. “Use your words, Princess. I know you know how to use them.” His mouth attacks your neck. It’s funny because when you write, the words are right there, ready for you to use, but right now, it’s nearly impossible to speak when Nash is fuelling you with fire.

He swirls his thumb around your clit again and again to see what you would eventually say. “Yes, yes, I like that, please keep doing what you’re doing.”

Nash hums in laughter in the crook of your neck, grazing his other hand up to cup your breast. Oh God, and when he adds a third finger inside you, you make a noise verging on animalistic. The sound brings Nash to snap his head to look upon you.

Use your words.

“I need more.”

“As you wish.” This suave adventurer takes hold of himself in his hand and first slicks up his length between your legs. Each stroke across your centre drives you even wilder, making you feel like you want to scream with impatience.

“Fuck, Nash, please,” you beg.

“Hold on, baby,” he says, and you take his words literally - throwing your arms around him.

At long last, he presses slowly inside, and you gasp at the sensation of him stretching you, accommodating the sheer size of him. The both of you give pleasurable moans at the feeling - him so big, you so tight. It takes forever for Nash to start to move again, but with a gentle roll of his hips, it sends him slowly deeper inside. You bite your lip and let out a shaky breath.

“How do you feel?” he checks. The lust and bliss in his voice are palpable. “Do you want me to-?”

“You can go faster.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod quickly and prepare yourself. Nash doesn’t hesitate at your word, and grunts a bit when your body squeezes around him with each progressively faster thrust. You move along with him, meeting each movement as you chase this feeling with him. You’re on this ride together. You have been from the start.

And now his thumb is back at work again between you. The pads of your fingers dig into his muscular back muscles. It’s like every ounce of the sexual tension since meeting and leading up until this moment has broken through the dam. It’s when your body starts to constrict around him and his stuttered thrusts that you feel your swiftly approaching climax.

“Don’tstopdon’tstop,” you cry repeatedly, unable to see straight.

“Fuck, (Y/N), I’m-”

Your mouth widens into an ‘O’ as you lift off the bed and cry out more affirmations. Nash’s head tips back, and in much the same fashion, opening his perfect pink mouth wide. His eyes shut, and if it’s anything like your experience, he sees the fireworks behind them, too.

In the aftermath of it all, you feel warm and jelly-like, tired and worn, but entirely satisfied by what just happened. Nash pulls out, only to lie down on top of you, surely not his whole weight. Nonetheless, you relish the weight of his body on top of yours. It feels delicious. Your arms wrap around each other. You never want to let go.

In the moments afterwards - after catching your breaths, after returning to Earth - Nash moves a strand of your hair out of the way from your face.

“When I finally have the means to cross dimensions, other earths, I’ll take you with me,” he vows, and you can feel the rumble of his voice inside you. “Just the two of us.”

Then a thought decides to break every fantasy you were having.

“Why haven’t you taken the GPS away from me?” you ask.

Nash just looks at you. “What are you talking about?”

“I’ve seen you playing with it. In the van and on the journey,” you tell him. “I know it’s messed with your gauntlet’s tracking, and if you just took it, you’d find what you were looking for.”

His thumb strokes your cheek once, then twice.

“I have found what I’m looking for…”

“Careful Nash,” you warn, “you’re starting to sound like a romance writer.”

He watches you, and with every part of you, you couldn't tell whether he was playing you.

“I thought about what you said before,” you say, “about having more to bargain with for Caitlin? I think we should go for it.”

“You do?” Nash pulls back to see your face better. “Because seriously, you could walk into Kinshasa with the treasure effectively holding all the cards-”

“-I know. But Nash, if we have to give it up to save Caitlin…”

“I know. We let them have it. It’s the only way to save your friend.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

His lips meet yours again to seal the deal, and you feel yourself quickly slipping away into what you believe to be one of life’s most dangerous emotions. One on which you base your entire writing career. Soon enough, with each kiss, the question of whether to actually trust Nash Wells vanishes from your mind and is replaced with how many more of them you need.

[thethoughtsfromthreeam]

California

Pairing: Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels x OC

Warnings: PTSD

A/N:  We’re coming out of the angst mood and this will be the last wholly flashback chapter.  We return to present day in Part 8.  Doesn’t mean there won’t be flashbacks, but the action is now moving forward!

And I can’t believe the number of people who have followed this blog in the last week or so (has it only been that long?) and the people who are liking the posts.  Y’all know how to make a girl feel good. :)

Reminder: I haven’t seen Kingsman: The Golden Circle, so I’m just using the Wikia, IMDB.com, some gifs, and my own weird ass brain to make up this whole ass story.

Tag List:  @zeldasayer , @romanticgumchewer, @tarrevizslas , @coolmaybelateruniverse , @the-feckless-wonder, @lavenderl3mons , @pascalisthepunkest , @mandoandyodito​ , @randomness501 [please message me to be added or subtracted]

[PART 1]  [PART 2]  [PART 3]  [PART 4]  [PART 5] [PART 6]

Part 7 

Road to Recovery

It was the sharp yelp and half sob that startled nurse Cider at her desk. Looking up she realized the sound came from her only occupied bay.  She got up and walked into the room to find Sirah laying awkwardly in the bed, tears trickling down her face.

“You tried to move again, didn’t you?” the nurse asked.  She didn’t need an answer, she already knew it.  She was just being polite.  Sirah gave a slight nod.  She’d been fully conscious for only forty-eight hours, but every moment of it was a cycle of pain and then calmness as the drugs kicked in.  She was in the pain portion of the cycle.

“It’s so hard to breathe, Cider.  I just can’t seem to breathe.”

“I know, honey. Let me get you more comfortable and see if that helps a bit.” Cider stepped out and waved over another nurse.  They came into the room and each grabbed Sirah under her arms to pull her gently up. But something about the way they held her made their patient go rigid with fear.

“NO!” She cried out.  “NO, don’t take me!”

For a moment, she wasn’t in the med bay, instead her mind was suddenly back in California and trapped in the fear she felt while captured.  She started shaking violently and both nurses dropped their hands.  Cider reached out and touched Sirah’s forehead gently, calling to her.

“Sirah, honey, it’s okay.  It’s okay. It’s just me and Tea.  We’re here to help you, it’s okay.”  Cider rubbed her palm on the woman’s forehead while grasping her hand with the other.  After a moment, Sirah’s eyes looked over at the nurse and seemed to refocus.

“Good, honey.  Good.” She kept her voice calm and even. “Tea and I are going to help you move, remember?  We’re going to put our hands back under your arms and under your legs.  And you’re going to be more comfortable.  Yeah?”

Sirah nodded and this time, while keeping her eyes focused on Cider, she let the nurses move her.  Soon she was shifted higher and suddenly she felt as if she could breathe again.  The nurses tucked her back in, took a few vitals, and patted her hand before they left.  While they worked, in the shadows outside the room stood Champ.  As the nurses passed him, he paused before entering the room.  Looking at the ceiling, he took a deep breath and willed the tears from his eyes before walking in.

Normally, the man was larger than life, standing taller than most of his agents physically and bigger than everyone else through his personality. But when Sirah laid eyes on him, she noted he looked smaller, older even.  He sat down next to her bed and took her hand, cradling it to his cheek.  She let the tears stream down her own as his warmth seeped into her hand and then into her heart.  She was home again.

---***---

She had been in a coma for several weeks as the med team worked to fix what they could, but once she woke up, the reality of what happened to her began to set in for the team.  The trauma of her experience wasn’t something she had been trained to handle and she spiraled deeply into this scary new world as the days passed.  Soon the personality that inspired Tequila’s Shirley Temple nickname was gone and in its place was a woman full of fear.

One day after Ginger had visited for some time, Sirah cried pitifully when her friend left.  She curled into herself the best she could, thinking her friend was never coming back.  The abandonment compounded everything.  

Champ and Dr. Licuados consulted daily with the in-house therapy center about the situation.  A therapist was assigned to her, code named Orange, but in the early days there wasn’t much either doctor could do to ease the pain and fear.  The three watch as Sirah nearly become a ghost of herself.

Her friends were sick to their stomachs at the change and tried to do whatever they could within their power to help her through it.  After the event with Ginger, the four of them agreed to take turns being with her.  Just being in the same room was often enough for Sirah most days, so they’d bring work or field reports or even just books to pass the time.  

Ginger took the mornings, Tequila took the afternoon shift, and Champ stayed by her side in the early evenings.  But Jack was the one to stay with her at night.  Seeing his sleeping form on the couch next to her brought her immense comfort and often, she would reach out and touch his hand with hers.  Every time, even dead asleep, he grasped hers in return and never let go.

---***---

A month after she woke from the coma, the doctors agreed to move her to a private therapy bay to continue her recovery.  Her cuts had scarred over, her burns were stable, and the breaks and fractures were just about healed.  She was able to begin the next phase of her healing and the days took on more structure. 

Physical therapy in the morning with Tequila there as her own personal cheerleader and sometimes Ginger when he was out on assignment. Regular therapy with Dr. Orange in the afternoons, and in the evenings, Jack came “home” to stay with her.  Champ made it a special order to have lunch with her daily and sometimes his wife would join them.

Her recovery probably wouldn’t had gone as well as it had were it not for her friends.  The love and support they provided guided her through the dark moments.  One night, after she had been cleared to take a shower, Sirah stood beneath the water, relishing the feeling of being clean. Without thinking, she turned her face upwards into the spray and immediately her brain was flooded with the memory of her water boarding.  

She pulled back, gasping and cried out before she fell against the shower wall in terror.  Immediately, Jack rushed into the bathroom, calling her name.  He pulled back the shower curtain and found her sitting on the floor, crying and shaking with the memory.  He turned off the water and dropped to his knees.  He wrapped her in his arms and held her against him. Nothing he could say could reach through to her, so instead he rocked her body as she cried.  It cut him to the core and broke his heart into a million pieces. Soon she quieted down, and her arms snaked around his waist.

“Moonshine, let’s get you cleaned up.”  She nodded and was patient while he soaped up a rag and gently cleaned her.  He rinsed and dried her off before helping her dress.  When he got her settled in bed, he texted Tequila to come take his place. When he arrived, Jack outlined what had happened and said he needed to step out.  Tequila clapped a hand on his shoulder before sitting down on the couch. If Jack needed a minute, then dammit, he was getting one.

Jack ran down to the training room and turned on the lights.  He rolled his neck and cracked his knuckles as he walked over to the punching bag.  He took a deep breath and threw out his right arm.  The contact stung but it didn’t stop him.  He took the rest of his anger and grief out on the bag.  He eventually collapsed against it, exhausted, but calmer.

---***---

“Orange. . . can I talk about that night?”  Sirah sounded hesitant, but the therapist gave her a reassuring smile. Half a year had passed since California and Sirah now found herself curled on the end of her couch, wrapped in a blanket. The therapist sat at the other end, leg drawn up and facing her.

“Needles.”  Sirah looked out the window.  “I could smell the needles of the redwoods as I laid there. . .”  Their talk continued and several times, Sirah broke down.  She cried for Malbec and Sherry, the agents who were her friends.  She cried for herself.  She just cried all the tears she couldn’t while captured.  And then she talked some more.  

After nearly three hours, she felt exhausted, but lighter.  Facing California was hard, but each day seemed to get easier.  Dr. Orange told her to sleep a bit and left the apartment.  But for the first time in weeks she didn’t dream of pain or of fire or even of a dead woman’s eyes.  Instead she dreamed of New York City.

“Jack, are we sure this is correct?” Sirah looked at the notes sent from HQ regarding the case.  They sat in his New York office reviewing files and she scribbled notes in the margins.

“I’m sure moonshine, I don’t think Tequila would send us incorrect notes.”  Jack flipped through the file in front of him before turning back to the computer.  He updated a few things and went back to the file. Sirah picked up the notes she made and gathered a few more items.

“I’ll be right back. . . .” her voice faltered as she looked out the window.  He turned to see what captured her attention.  Blocks away from where they were at, fireworks lit up the sky.  She walked over to the window in a sort of trance, mesmerized by the beauty of the scene – the brightly colored fireworks against the dark sky and the surrounding glow of the city.  Jack walked up behind her to watch, too.

Without thinking about it, he laid his hands on her shoulders and his chin on her head.  She sighed and leaned back into him, eyes still on the display.  He dragged his hands down her arms and wrapped her close against him.  She melted into him and they stood in comfortable repose until the display ended. The sky darkened again, and the sounds of the city were no longer muffled.

She turned in his arms and pressed her face against his chest.  Her arms came up around his waist and she clung to him.  He shifted and kissed the top of her head.  She smiled into his chest and sighed again, this one even more contented than before.  She eventually moved out of his arms, dragging her hand across his chest as she walked around him.  He caught the smile on her face, and one grew on his own.

“I’ll be in the library for a bit.  I want to check up on some things.  Can you wait a few hours until I have more information?”  She looked at him.

“Moonshine, I’ll always wait for you.”  She beamed at him and slightly nodded her head before taking her items and walking out the door.

He’d wait a lifetime for her if he needed to.

---***---

She woke up from the dream with a contented smile on her face, an event that hadn’t happened since before California.  As she became more alert, she realized she was alone.  Everyone worked to keep a similar schedule as before even after she moved back into her home and when she looked at the clock, she noticed it was close to dinner time.  She asked Champ to come to dinner and as if her mind conjured him, he walked through the door, knocking as he entered.

She smiled as he sat down and laid out the dinner his wife made.  He also handed her a lumpy package that had her name scrawled across it.  She opened it and while he went to get plates, she pulled out a beautifully thick navy sweater.  It was oversized and the sleeves were longer than normal.  

Once she was cleared to wear regular clothing, Sirah had taken to completely covering herself.  She was self-conscious about the scars all over her body and while the logical part of her brain said no one would care, she still did it anyway.  Champ’s wife was a quiet woman, but she was observant and smart as hell.  Champ wouldn’t have married her if she wasn’t.  The sweater was something that would give Sirah the cover she wanted with much comfort.

“Champ, can we talk for a moment?”  She sounded serious as he returned and sat down next to her.

“Of course, honey.  What do you need?”  The voice was kind and she found herself feeling ever grateful she had such love around her.  It’s why she knew she’d get passed this.

“Don’t call me Sirah anymore.”

[rapperkookz]

ironman!namjoon

a/n wow ok so this is the start of my avengers!bts headcanons and yuh they all have set in stone story lines but im gonna shake it up a lil bit xD

word count: 2.3k

____________________

kim namjoon

you see

the kim namjoon is a smart kid

child genius if i say so myself

and boy he knew it

no eleven year old chooses to write a paper about hubble’s law of cosmic expansion for a science project instead of making a trifold and using liquid cement

no, namjoon writes a 4-page paper in apa style with a magnificent abstract

he got an A on it of course

his brilliance only goes up from there

and with his rich parents, he has the opportunity-

to which yoongi and seokjin would say “privilege”

but let’s just say “opportunity”

to do incredible research and studies and experiments

his dad has a science lab built just for him in their house

by nineteen, namjoon has taken over a good percentage of his parents’ business

kim enterprises

growing up, namjoon had an idea that his parents’ business was pretty expansive and were involved in many areas

but it wasn’t until he was placed in board meetings at eighteen when he absorbed how powerful his family really was

and sure the business aspect of him was aight, but he loved his lab and would rather leave the negotiating to his mom and dad

you grew up with namjoon, you were also from a wealthy family

your fathers were childhood friends and they grew their businesses together

although kim enterprises surpassed your family’s wealth easily, the bond between your families were still tight

namjoon was stubborn and a smartass

but he wasn’t a jerk, just...very selective with his true self

he’s also a bit spoiled, but with his parents who gave into his every wish, it just turned out that way

at 21, namjoon’s parents got into a plane crash on the way to a meeting in london and it unfortunately claimed their lives

namjoon became the sole CEO and heir of kim enterprises

he asked you for help because damn he couldn’t run a whole business by himself??

and you weren’t needed yet to run your own family business

so you didn’t mind helping out your friend

things were running okay with little kinks in the road, but the business was still thriving and so namjoon was okay with that

until one day when you and namjoon were hanging out in his family mansion and it was broken into

in a crazy haze, you were captured and abducted

namjoon knew they were after him and not you and for the first time in his life:

he had absolutely no idea what to do

he had to find you of course but he didn’t know where to start

namjoon couldn’t tell your parents because they would absolutely kill him for not protecting you

and honestly he wanted to beat himself up too for that fact

thanks to his brilliant mind, he managed to track wherever the fuck you were being held captive

he took his private jet out to a nearby place and did the rest by foot

this was basically a suicide mission and he knew it, but to hell with it

namjoon would exchange his life for yours, you’ve been with him since birth

back to you

you were being held in a cell

your captors needed namjoon to build something for them, but since you weren’t him, you were useless to them

you thought they were going to kill you

but instead they just locked you up

you didn’t expect to see namjoon being pushed into your cell with you

“joon what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I uh...I found you.”

you thought he would have told your dad and then like officers would come and find you

not namjoon, alone.

“did you expect to just walk in and sweet talk them into letting me go?”

he scratched the back of his neck

“for a genius, you’re fucking stupid.”

“okay, truthfully, i thought I could turn myself in and that would convince them to let you go, but i guess they just took both of us haha.”

for weeks you two were held prisoner, your captors taking namjoon in the morning and returning with him at night

you were just stuck in there

but whenever joon came back, he had a new injury to him

your heart hurt whenever you saw him come back, pain all over his face

you would do your best into aiding him, but you didn’t really have much options in the small cell

it was one night when he didn’t come back and your mind automatically assumed that he was dead

you started sobbing in the cell, god you were going crazy

you needed to get out of there

and then when you heard some whimpering and cries of pain, your drive only got bigger bc you knew it was namjoon

you started clanging on the cell and screaming for them to let you go

and then from the corner of your eye, you spotted joon crawling to you, all bloodied up

you gasped spotting the large wound on his chest

but before you could start losing your mind about your best friend was going to die, he calmly started instructing you to build a generator for him

you: joon! I’m not as smart as you, this thing is going to fucking blow up

joon: y/n, calm down and listen to me. you can do this, i believe in you

also joon: connect that wire to the plug...black long thing to red square.

as the hours went on into the night, namjoon sounded weaker and weaker, making you urgent into finishing his little generator

you started holding his hand

“joon, it’s done, okay? it’s done.”

“this is going to hurt like a bitch, but put that generator in my wound. and shove my shirt in my mouth, shut me up with it or we’ll get caught.”

“w-what?”

“just do it y/n!”

you shoved the triangle thing you made (with his help) into his chest and shut your eyes as you basically gagged joon quiet

within minutes he started to get better and you felt like a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders

the last thing you remember before crashing was joon saying “thank you, y/n, now go rest.”

you were awaken by a huge bang

lo and behold, namjoon’s in a tin suit and he blasted your cell open

you could barely register namjoon breaking the roof of your cell and grasping you by the waist and flying you out of there

his tin suit failed him within minutes, the thrusters he built at his feet giving in

but the important thing was that you two made it out and crashlanded in a lake

the place where you were held captive burst into flames

you were founded by your father’s men

(he had some great influence in the army)

and fuck you and joon suffered from one hell of a ptsd

for a while, joon became distant

i mean, could you blame him? y’all got kidnapped and almost died

you tried to reach out but his house security kept denying you

cute side note: namjoon’s jarvis is called moni

“god dammit moni, i just wanna talk to him”

“my apologies miss/sir y/n, master kim doesn’t want any visitors at the moment.”

:(

the next time joon talked to you was months after you two were found, he invited you over to his house and his security system led you straight to his lab

you walked in to see your best friend in a golden technological suit, the triangle generator you helped him make glowing on the torso of his suit

“joon, what the fuck are you doing?”

he sat you down and explained how after your whole kidnapping, he realized that he had a gift 

and he could either be sitting around waiting to be kidnapped again for his mind to be used for the worst

or he could be doing something for the greater good

you honestly couldn’t follow, couldn’t he just use his wealth to donate to charities or something?

but no, he wanted to be proactive and idk be some kind of superhero

“why are you telling me all this?”

“well, not only are you my best friend and we have suffered through hell together...if I happen to die out there, I’m leaving you in charge of kim enterprises.”

“huh die out where? joon you’re not going back there.”

he then told you how he was forced to build weapons while you were kidnapped and how his parents dealt with underground business with terrible people and now it’s come to bite him and kim enterprises in the ass

“i’m going back. If you want, you can stay here and monitor me. moni has complete access to my suit, it is my eyes and ears.”

“god, just...come back, don’t die on me, please.”

you end up watching him complete whatever mission he had for himself

but also how he got his ass beat

you almost missed a pair of boys save him from where he was

they were quick to the eye, dressed all in black, you just remember one with a bow and arrow

fast forward another couple months

joon was safe, thank god, and just doing insane upgrades on his suit and what not

you called him golden boy, but he said that name just didn’t suit him

you see that pun i put there ;)

the two of you were discussing the art exhibit he needed to attend when moni alerted him of visitors

surprise surprise it was the same two boys that you remember saving him, except they were dressed casually this time

“you must be y/n, namjoon hyung’s better half.”

namjoon glared at the boy, “shut up, jimin.”

the other one spoke, “we need you both to come to headquarters.”

“omg I’m not being kidnapped again, am i?”

the three of them laughed

you were told that jimin and the other boy, taehyung, were agents under BTS, a protection initiative created by their boss, Mr. Bang

and now, namjoon was being recruited to be part of that initiative

BTS is a specialized sub-unit to the larger Avengers motion

it put your mind at ease knowing that namjoon wasn’t alone in his whole fighting crime and saving lives ordeal

the media deemed namjoon’s golden suit as “iron man”

and although you personally liked your “golden boy” name better

joon had a complete liking to the other name

you witnessed when they recruited more agents to BTS

namjoon began to have a nice bond with the other boys

and it made you happy, of course, knowing that he had others by his side

but sometimes you couldn’t help but feel as if you were being replaced as his best friend

especially when he and the wakandan king, jung hoseok, became rather close

namjoon first realized his feelings for you when kim seokjin, aka the god of thunder, was flirting with you during one of joon’s house parties

he almost had a fist fight with him

but the other boys held them back from beating each other up

a supersuit vs a god with insane powers? that wasn’t going to end well at all

and so namjoon secretly pined for you

you were still doing business together, but it was mostly you because he was busy now with world saving duties

you were the one to convince him to recruit their youngest and final member to BTS

the spider kid, jeon jungkook

namjoon becomes jungkook’s mentor

and it’s quite endearing

but jk’s also the one to spill to you that namjoon has had the hugest crush on you for the longest time

kid just can’t keep his mouth shut sometimes

all the boys knew that namjoon was basically in love with you

they even helped him come up with this elaborate event of confessing to you

...which all went to hell bc yoongi got triggered and smashed everything

yoongi felt so bad afterwards

but all ended well bc of course you loved namjoon back

he was your best friend and your #1 since day 1

namjoon ends up revealing himself as iron man probably a year after the whole BTS unit was solidified

the press was hell for kim enterprises

which you had to mainly contain :/

but you know he’s a charmer in front of the camera

your parents were a bit iffy when they found out you were dating iron man

but if anyone could take care of you, they knew it would be namjoon

aw im emo

dating your best friend/business partner is a rollercoaster

you’ve had your fair share of heart attack moments, waiting for him after a battle or a mission

namjoon has put his life in danger and will continue to put his life in danger and you’re just going to have to deal with that

he hates that he also puts your life in danger just by association, but you have a lot of protection, courtesy of Mr. Bang

you wear his suit sometimes and try to fly it for fun

he finds you cute

builds you a suit, yourself, but you don’t wear it often

mostly bc you know there’s some weapons included for safety and that scares you a bit

you end up merging businesses with kim enterprises

and run the whole rodeo bc he’s too busy saving the world

but you always keep him updated on what’s happening

he’s become less arrogant after being with the boys and after dating you

but he’s still a smartass

uses kim enterprises’ wealth and resources for the improvement of BTS

it’s pretty useful if you ask me

namjoon becomes the spokesperson for BTS ;)

he and his boys save the world on the regular

but he wouldn’t be saving the world if you didn’t save his world first

u fucking wu

that last part was cheesy but am i sorry about it?

nah

7-6-19

[acequisitor]

Obey Me! Review

Gonna get more detailed since it’s not just an app review. If you ever do want to review the game on the App Store: NTT replies in as a character in the game unless it’s a serious issue so keep that in mind. Otherwise, enjoy!

Imma start this off by saying it’s a great game. I personally couldn’t play it when it first released bc I had storage issues but if you have the time and phone storage it’s worth it. I’ll also say if you’re a player who’s looking for only one person’s ‘route’ it’s not for you because it’s a general story, but if you don’t mind that, it’s great to follow along with and just enjoy the moments you get with your fav that they give you.

Characters: Characterisation of these characters are great but at times lackluster. Although every character starts off as one demintional (ie: demon of x) they all get some nice info tagged in by the latest update. There’s literally a character for almost all of your niche needs, wants or desires to just immediately fall for. Trust me. My only qualm of this being with Belphie seeming to get the short end of the stick, especially with his redemption arc kind of being blown over (although he does something VERY questionable, you and him seem buddy buddy the next chapter without it saying how you got there) and practically a bad timeline being forced as your main one? Otherwise, it was nice to get to know them through gameplay and the characters are what drove me to kinda speed run my playthrough to its latest posted stories into the game!

Relationships: On the matter of players who would only want one person’s route, every character kinda gets a chapter devoted to the MCs relationship with them which is nice. Kinda like equal time given to each character, even. My only issue on the relationship issue is if you wanted a nice/fitting ‘ending’ or season ending by the time your character ‘leaves the school’, or you wanted something endgame-ish, you’re gonna feel as fucked as the MC by Lucifer because he’s the only person who’s romance actually escalates in character past a kiss. IMO at least Beel, Asmos (being a legit paragon of lust), or Satan (who specifically says he wants more) could’ve easily been given the same treatment. If you turn Lucifer down and leave it cuts straight to black which is fine but if you choose to kiss him it escalates despite every other sibling having been cockblocked in their attempt to spend more time with the MC after their kiss with her; so, I felt his romance got special treatment in that accord because Lucifer is like ‘the main guy’ or like the guy in a reverse-harem the show is definitely shooting for endgame (he’s like Tamaki) but for an otome game and someone who has Lucifer as last on their sibling tier list it was a slap in the face. There’s confirmed more story coming to the game which is nice, but the way it was left off kinda left a sour taste in my mouth. I’m still 100% into the story, though.

Relationships (mechanic): Each player has an affection level with you. As you choose them to be on your main screen, say something they like in the main story, use the player in battle, or send them to work for your money, you’ll build up a relationship with them. This can unlock phone calls from them or special DM/texts/group texts from them, and honestly that’s about it. It can also help unlock special side stories you get from cards... So yeah. They’re not all too important, but it’s a nice touch. Kinda MM vibes but not quite, you feel me?

My Gameplay Experience: So mechanic wise I grinded 4 1/2 days with the free VIP pass the last 2 and easily got to the end/latest chapters no problem without any purchases - which I note solely for those who feel they don’t want to play bc you can’t experience the main story to the fullest without paying money. If you’re scared you might miss an event, I’ve played almost every free NTT Solmare game to know they always have ‘retuning’ events if they’re focused on another game or have nothing on their schedule. It’s like new events except you start where you left off and can continue to get the other prizes you might’ve missed (besides rank prizes).

Actual Gameplay: Between each episode/book there’s this cute mini game you have to play and win to go onto either the next mini game or story. You get ranked 1-3 and your power in each mini game depends on the cards you put into the battle. A battle which mind you is a dance off! The higher you rank the more points you’ll get to unlock “A, B, C” side stories but they don’t really matter unless you’re a completionist. If you aren’t gonna like the story anywhere, it’ll be with this game and the feeling of needing to grind to rank your cards up. If it’s to any help, I’ve beaten a round with a 10,000 point difference with me at disadvantage but I still won so don’t feel you always need to be at par with the enemy to win. Also glow sticks are your friends. Remember that.

Story progression: Between each lesson or ch (so like a whole ass story line) you need to be a certain level. This either leaves you in a well I’m already at that level nbd or you have to break off and kinda grind for the next level. The break you use to grind to said lv (usually just one level up each time) gave me time to level up my cards so I had no real issue with it. Also gave me time to go do Hard Mode, so no biggie for me personally.

Hard mode: it isn’t something required of you to do, to progress in the story, but it does add side stories to the situation your character is in at that time in the plot that you don’t see otherwise in the main story. For example, there’s a whole side episode where it’s explained Mammon has pacts with these three witches who boss him around while he pampers his credit card. Not plot important, but it’s cute and they can round out a character if you feel the main story lacks it. It also adds a challenge for players who think normal mode was too easy. It can also be hella easy for a Hard Mode for players who do the main plot first and then decide to do Hard Mode. You can easily whip by when you’re 70k+ power level and ch 3 hard mode is like 40k. So if you’re not doing it along with the main story it’s hella easy to just bypass to get to the stories given you got enough stamina.

VIP pass: There’s a free trial of this that’s available that lasts for 7 days and it doubles your experience points (and other bonuses) which makes getting to new chapters easier. Not neccissary, just helpful if you wanted to speedrun the story like I did. If you plan to stick around and pay for it, no judgement but there is a free chance for those who need/want it. It’s also easy to ‘cancel’ the pass immediately after you purchase it in the App Store if you don’t wanna do it bc you’ll forget to unsubscribe and get charged for it.

Overall experience: I’d honestly give it a solid 4.5/5. Out of all the NTT Solmare games I didn’t have to wait for tickets to progress and it was at my own pace. I didn’t need to grind for a ‘fashion level’ or whatever and some cards I got to progress in the story have actual story tied to it which was great (especially considering I got them for free). There’s no ‘pay-for’ currency you need to experience an extra romantic moment and it really let me feel for once in an NTT Solmare game the playing feild in experience a story was fair/even. For an otome game this is a nice balance of gameplay and good story (not necessarily well written but still nice) with a good amount of comedy for me to enjoy. If y’all got any other questions on the game feel free to ask me.

Those who might be sensitive to it or just not enjoy ‘incest’ in this game bc I saw a review very harmed by just the implication of it: My sense of humour being “Step-bro! What are you doing?!” the subtle incest jokes I found hilarious between a bunch of horny demons who’s job it is to be kings of sinning, and your character isn’t actually their sister at all so don’t worry. There’s a chance the MC is a descendant of the brother’s siblings but to every complaint I’ve seen on that on the App Store or Twitter, NTT always notes and comments the story isn’t complete and there’s more to come so I assume it’s not as it seems for those who are like “??? Is this legal???”

[ladymercytaylor]

All In - Chapter 5 (Joe Mazzello x Reader)

Chapter 5 y’all!!! This one is a thicc bitch that took forever and it aint my best but here it is for ya! Hope you enjoy it :) Summary: You and Joe were in a blissful relationship for 4 years. It seemed as though everything was perfect. You’d moved in together and all of your friends were taking bets on when he’d finally put a ring on your finger. That is until it all fell apart. Now, 1 year on you’re thrown together at a mutual friend’s wedding and it changes everything between you. Previous chapter can be found HERE

Chapter 5 – 9 weeks and 3 days

Getting ready for your night out with the boys was a new experience to say the least. Normally you’d chose the best dress in your wardrobe, but the ever steady swelling of your stomach was gradually reducing your clothing options. You knew that you didn’t have much longer before you’d have to start buying new clothes, but every time you tried you found a cold sweat breaking across your brow and gave up. After staring at your closet for a solid hour you admitted defeat and grabbed the same dress you’d worn to Sebastian’s wedding all those months ago and your trusty Spanx. The waist of the dress hit you right under the bust and would probably provide the best camouflage for your little nugget. “Seriously, spanx?” came Flick’s slightly judgemental voice from over your shoulder. “Shit, Flick!” you exclaimed, clasping your clothes over your racing chest as you rounded on her. “Don’t startle the pregnant chick!” “What, like startling you is going to suddenly eject the baby?” she teased, stepping into your room. She flopped dramatically across your unmade bed, stretching her long arms above her head. “And I re-iterate. Spanx, really? Isn’t that bad for the baby?” “I’ve done extensive Googling. Everyone says it’s fine” you explained, moving to your dresser to pick out your jewellery for the night. “And I don’t really have another option”

“The guys all know now, right? You can be pregnant and proud” she giggled and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.  “It’s not just that, Flick” you murmured, sifting through the delicate gold chains in your wooden jewellery box. “Those boys attract so much attention now. Before the film it was different but now they’re just…something else. The last thing I need is some random paparazzi noticing and then having plastered all over the internet” You continued to search through your accessories. You picked out a pair of white stone drop earrings and set them to the side before staring intensely at your necklaces, waiting for one to jump out at you. You were only really half focussed on the task though as you could feel the question Flick was not asking.   “What would that matter, though? You are pregnant. It’s a fact”  A dejected sigh slipped passed your lips. You knew this conversation was coming. Flick had always been on the peripheral when it came to Joe’s life. She saw him when he was sitting around in his stained track pants with 4 day old stubble shouting at the Yankees game on TV. She was never there when your date night was interrupted by a fan. Or when you were getting screamed at by a wall of photographers at the premier of one of his movies.  “Things are different for Joe” your voice was much quieter and tense than Flick had expected and she suddenly felt a twinge of guilt in her stomach. “His life is public property. No matter how hard he’s tried there’s always things that he can’t keep private. We were together for 2 years before I even made it onto his Instagram and even that was just because a fan sent out a photo of us on a date first” you sighed, abandoning your search for a necklace to plop down next to her on your bed. “If anyone sees us together and notices that I’m pregnant they’re going to immediately assume that Joe and I are back together. And I just don’t think I can handle that right now” you murmured, picking absentmindedly at the chipping nail polish on your fingers.  You didn’t notice Flick get up off the bed and cross to your dresser until she stood in front of you, a gold necklace glimmering between her fingers.  “This one” she offered with a smile, stretching out the chain between her hands. Your breath caught in your throat as you recognised the necklace. A small 4 leaf clover dangled from the delicate gold chain, sending flashes of gold light across your face.  “Joe gave me that” you murmured, “when we went to Ireland” Flick chuckled quietly as she leaned forward to secure the clasp behind your neck. “I know”

Your heart was hammering against your chest as you neared the restaurant. Joe was meant to collect you from your apartment, but a late running audition had you making the trip uptown by yourself. You kept your denim jacket wrapped tightly around your middle for the whole journey. You hadn’t had to worry about photographers in such a long time that you were startled by how quickly the paranoia returned. Any time you saw someone with a phone in their hand your heart began to race all over again. Your face flushed with an embarrassed heat when a grandma pulling her phone out on the subway had sent you into a small panic. Like some random grandma was going to know that you were Joe Mazzello’s ex-girlfriend. You shook your head, mentally scolding your ridiculousness and vainly attempting to chalk it up to pregnancy hormones. Fortunately you didn’t have much time to think about is as you recognised three very familiar faces through the restaurant window as you exited the station. A beaming smile broke out across your face as you raced inside, desperate to see three of your best friends again. “Gwilly!” you squealed, rushing over to their table. “Y/N!” Gwil replied, immediately pushing out of his seat to wrap both of his arms around you in a vice-like hug. “Oh it’s so good to see you!” he murmured into your hair and you held him even tighter, tears prickling the back of your eyes. Oh how you’d missed him. “Careful, careful!” Rami warned softly, hoping out of his seat. “You’re going to squash mini-Mazzello!” Gwil set you down with a soft laugh and you immediately spun to hop into Rami’s waiting embrace. “Mini-Mazzello is perfectly well protected, Rami” you smiled, kissing him softly on the cheek as you parted. “And congratulations!” you beamed, grasping his shoulders tightly “you deserved every single one of those awards. Fucking outstanding” “Oh, stop” he chuckled, waving a hand dismissively but the darkening of his cheeks gave him away. “And what am I, spare parts?” came a rather indignant voice from over your shoulder. “Of course not, Benny” you teased, letting go of Rami to fall into Ben’s arms. “Just saving the best until last” “Hmm, I guess I can live with that” he chuckled, kissing your temple softly. “Look at you! I used to think that ‘pregnancy glow’ thing was bullshit but I find myself proven wrong” he grinned. “Please, that’s called highlighter and hormonal acne” you replied playfully. Everyone took up their seats, the one next to you left vacant for Joe. “So, how’ve you been?” asked Gwil, leaning forward eagerly on the table. “Work good?” “Can’t complain” you smiled, fidgeting with the gold charm resting against your collar bones. “Got promoted. I’m one of the senior dentists which is nice” ��You’re going to have to explain how that’s different from a normal dentist” Rami chuckled and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Dating an actor and socialising with his creative friends had always left a certain amount of disconnect with careers. “Nothing very dramatic, I just get given some more difficult cases and have to take part in their NYU placement program and mentor a dental student. Mine’s called Nadia. She’s cool” you smiled. You were just about to begin telling them one of your more interesting stories that involved Nadia locking herself in the storeroom for 2 hours when a torrent of apologies flooded your ears. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. Director just would not stop talking!” Joe blabbered as he flopped into the seat beside you. “Sure sure, Joe” Gwil teased, flipping open the menu in front of him. Joe, very maturely, poked his tongue out at his friend. “Why do you refuse to see the best in me, Gwil?” Joe pouted, flipping the menu in front of him with over exaggerated vigour. “Past experience” Rami supplied with a cheeky grin. Chuckles erupted all around the table and your ex-boyfriend rolled his eyes playfully. “You’re all just hungry” he muttered grumpily, turning his hazel eyes to the list of dishes in his hands.

Dinner buzzed passed in a whirlwind of conversation and you were only just realising exactly how much you’d missed in the last year. Gwil told you all the details about his proposal to Sarah (it was so sweet you found yourself tearing up, but luckily for you it went unnoticed by the rest of your party). Rami told you all about his next project. He was so excited to be co-starring with Lucy again that he was practically vibrating out of his seat. It warmed your heart to see him speak of her with such care and affection. You’d been on set the day Rami had asked Lucy out to dinner and you’d never seen him so excited. Ben didn’t have anything in the way of exciting news ‘Just work, you know’ but his bright green eyes began to sparkle when you asked how Frankie was doing. She was perfect, as always. But he’d recently been fighting the urge to get her a brother or sister. Spending so much time away from home he wasn’t sure he could handle the guilt of leaving two babies behind instead of one. Despite his reservations you were quick to tell him to get another dog. Not being allowed a pet in your apartment you’d made it your mission in life to live vicariously through your friends.

“So, bar?” Ben suggested as your party stepped out of the stifling restaurant into the cool breeze. “Isn’t that a bit pregnancy-unfriendly?” Rami pointed out with a quick glance in your direction. “Maybe we should head off?” Joe suggested to you, the orange streetlights above your heads dying his hair even more ginger. You knew he was just trying to be considerate. You did. But something in his tone had your skin crawling. And you found a frown furrowing your brow. “I’m pregnant, not dying” you scoffed, stepping away from him to link your arm with Ben’s. “To the bar!” “God, I’ve fucking missed you” the blonde chuckled, immediately setting off down the street, leaving the other boys to follow behind you. Ben dragged you into the first bar you came across, desperate to continue the night before anyone mentioned going home again. “What can I get you?” he asked, pausing as he stepped towards the crowded bar. “Uh…” you murmured, options quickly running through your head, “Lemonade with a slice of lime in a short glass. It’ll look like a G&T to the unaware” you explained. “Roger that, captain” he confirmed, giving you a mock salute before braving the throng of people swaying to the thumping music. Joe, Gwil and Rami traipsed in behind you. Gwil and Rami immediately copied Ben’s trajectory to the bar while Joe hung back to stand next to you. “I didn’t mean to imply anything earlier” he murmured. The despondent tone of his voice had guilt settling in your chest. You opened your mouth to tell him that you were sorry for snapping at him but Ben returned with your drink and beers for everyone else and the words died on your tongue.

“Oh that’s so much better!” you sighed in relief, stepping out into the cool night air after hours of dancing. You hadn’t realised how hot you were until the breeze blew against your sweaty skin. “Come, darling, there’s some seats in yonder corner!” Gwil proclaimed dramatically before grabbing your hand and dragging you to an empty table in the corner of the patio. You let him pull you as peals of giggles fell from your lips. Tipsy Gwil was one of the best Gwils. “Ah, perfect!” he announced as he folded his limbs into the green metal chair. “You know Ben wasn’t joking, pregnancy suits you” he smiled warmly, “But let me guess, it’s been hell right? I don’t know why they bothered calling it morning sickness when it literally happens all day” he chuckled.  “Exactly!” you laughed, running your fingers along the cool glass of your drink. “Morning, noon and night. It’s torture”  “Oooh, how did your nine week ultrasound go? Do you have the photos?” he asked eagerly, excitement glittering in his blue eyes. You moved to reach into your bag and produce your phone to show him, but something stopped you.  “Gwil” you murmured measuredly, eyes narrowing playfully, “by any chance is Sarah pregnant?” you asked, a knowing smile growing on your lips. His eyes widened in disbelief. “What? Nooooo” he denied, crossing his arms firmly over his chest. “Don’t know what you’re talking about” however a furious red blush swept across his cheeks.  “Mhhmm sure” you chuckled, withdrawing your phone out of your bag to pull up the ultrasound photos. “You should tell her that Vitamin B6 supplements help with the all-day nausea” you murmured as you scrolled through your camera roll, “She’ll still throw up but she won’t feel so crap in between” “Will do” he beamed, but his smile immediately fell when he realised what he’d done. “Fuck, please don’t tell anyone!” he begged, leaning forward to grasp both your hands in his. “It’s so early and we’re not telling anyone til after the wedding” he pleaded, desperation in his shining eyes.  “Secret’s safe with me, Gwilly” you assured, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. “Just let her know she can talk to me about it all if she wants. It’s….overwhelming to say the least” “You’re a gem” Gwilym sighed gratefully, releasing your hands to pick up his beer bottle and take a swig. “Oh! Photos! Photos!” he demanded, bouncing in his chair so intensely that some other patrons eyed him wearily.  “Alright! Settle petal” you chided, passing him your phone.  “Aww” he cooed as he took in the black and white photo on the screen. “It’s like a grey gummy bear!” he exclaimed and a burst of laughter escaped your lips. “I’m totally telling Joe you said that” you giggled as he handed the phone back to you. “Gwilym Lee – uncle to a gummy bear” “Oh hush” he scolded with a smile before draining the last of his beer. “Now, who has two thumbs and needs a drink? This guy” he grinned, pointing his thumbs at his chest. “Come back inside with me. We probably need to rescue Ben and Joe from themselves at this point” “I don’t think you’re in much of a state to be saving anyone, Sir Gwilly” you chuckled as he attempted to extract himself from the small chair and nearly tumbled to the floor in the process. Over Gwil’s shoulder you could see a burly bouncer in a far too tight black t-shirt eyeing your friend critically.  “I’m fine! I’m fine!” the brunette insisted far too loudly as you pushed him back inside the bar. “I’m perfectly responsible, thank you” he clipped…before tripping over the uneven floor and staggering into the bar.  It didn’t take you long to find the rest of your party. It’s kind of hard to miss 3 grown men doing what appeared to be their best impression of Magic Mike dancing at the bar. Rami was quite happy bopping along, his eyes glazed over as he danced in his own little world while both Ben and Joe were gyrating along to Rihanna’s Jump like their lives depended on it – lips pursed and eyes closed in concentration.  “I need another drink if I’m going to have to watch that” Gwil shouted into your ear over the music before disappearing into the darkness.  “Y/N!” Ben cried out as he opened his eyes, immediately finding you. “Come dance!” he shouted, not even waiting for your response before grabbing your hand and pulling you into the mass of people. A grin stretched your lips as you let him draw you in, immediately falling in step with their moves. Despite the alcohol that was clouding his brain, Joe watched you with perfect clarity. He felt like he’d fallen into one of his dreams – the kind that had plagued him ever since he let you go. Bringing you on nights out with his friends had always been one of his favourite things. You were so carefree, eyes sparkling brightly under the rainbow lights, nothing but laughter leaving your lips as you watched him pull out his most absurd dance moves. You always liked to say that he was by far the worst dancer you’d ever seen but he knew there was no malice in your words. He only did it to make you smile anyway.  Watching you dance with Ben, the blonde spinning you around and pulling you against him set his teeth on edge. Not out of jealousy – never that. But to Joe you almost felt like a mirage – so close and yet still so far away. Just when he thought things were going okay he’d say the wrong thing and feel like he was right back at square one again, needing to have Ben step in and call a truce. It felt unfair. Nothing had changed between you and his friends. Gwil loved you just as much as ever. There was no shred of awkwardness between you and Rami when you chatted about work and Ben had no qualms about placing his hand in yours. But he, the one who loved you the most, was stuck behind a glass wall he didn’t know how to break.

It was around 2am that you felt yourself begin to lag. The droning music was crushing against your skull and the relatively sensible heels you’d chosen were beginning to cut into the backs of your ankles. But determined not to be the first to crack you continued dancing, letting Gwil spin you around the makeshift dancefloor. Joe, however, was not as far gone as the other boys and saw your growing fatigue. He saw the way your shoulders were sagging and that the smile gracing your face whenever Ben pulled out some ridiculous dance move was slowly diminishing. Checking his watch he decided with a soft sigh that he was going to have to be the one to pull the plug. There was no way you were going to tap out first. Pregnant or not. “It’s nearly half passed 2” Joe yelled to Gwil, taking advantage of a slight lull in the music. “Maybe we should think about heading off?” A grumpy pout pursed Gwil’s lips but he nodded. He’d stopped drinking a few hours ago but Ben and Rami had ploughed right ahead and he wasn’t sure quite how much longer the two of them could stay vertical. Or evade security’s watchful eye. Joe and Gwil spent the next 10 minutes trying to corral their rather inebriated friends. You hadn’t been an issue. The relief that washed across your face at the suggestion of leaving didn’t go unnoticed by Joe and he felt a surge of pride warm his chest. Rami wasn’t a difficult target, Gwil just had to gently push him towards you, who grabbed his arm tightly. He didn’t seem bothered by it at all really, continuing to bop gently along to the music by your side. Ben, however, was not so simple. He recognised that parental look on Gwil’s face and immediately made a dash to the bar. “Ben, no! Enough!” Gwil commanded, grabbing him by the back of the shirt. “You’re so boring!” the blonde shouted back, but the older man was quicker. He took full advantage of Ben’s impaired stability and tugged on the navy fabric, bringing Ben into a weird pseudo-bearhug so that he used to steer him towards the door. “Spoil sport” he grumbled as Gwil lead the group out of the bar, a rather smug smile on his face. The cool summer air enveloped you as you stepped out onto the street. Summer in New York was unbearable to some but you’d always loved those playful summer nights. For a long time they had been spent with Joe. Either strolling aimlessly through Central Park or trying to find the best ice cream place in within a 6 block radius of your apartment. You’d been together for 2 years before you found it – a little family run shop tucked in between a dry cleaner and a 24 hour pizza joint. Your whole body practically melted the first time you’d tasted their sinfully delicious salted caramel ice-cream and it had quickly become your favourite Friday night hangout. But you didn’t go there anymore. “Alright, where are my boys staying?” you asked, slinging your denim jacket over your folded arms. “My place. It’s only a 15 minute walk from here” Joe supplied, swaying on the spot so violently that Gwil had to steady him with a strong hand. “Please look after them for me” you chuckled to Gwil, watching Ben and Rami continue to dance along to the music that was pouring out of the bar’s open windows. “Subway’s not too far from here. I’m going catch the train” you explained, gesturing up the dark street. “You can’t catch the train alone” Gwil interjected, concern furrowing his brow. “And before you interrupt - I’d say that even if you weren’t carrying such precious cargo” he added quickly. You huffed gently, crossing your arms over your chest but stayed silent. Joe was nodded rapidly beside him and you knew better than to argue with them. “You can crash at mine. There’s plenty of space” Joe offered immediately, his cheeks flushing slightly pink. “Sleepover!” Rami shouted gleefully, sending Ben into a peal of giggles. “I dunno, guys” you murmured, your eyes flickering to the chipped pavement. The night had gone so well so far. Spending the night with Joe just felt like asking for trouble. “Please? Oh please please please please” Ben begged, abandoning Rami to wrap his arms around you. “Pleeease? We’ve missed you” he moaned and you felt that tinge of guilt twist your insides again. “Alright, but only if you get off me. You’re all sweaty” you chuckled, trying to prize his thick arms off you. “Picky picky picky” he tutted playfully but retracted his arms. “Onwards!” he shouted, raising his arm like a charging warrior and thundering down the street. “Ben!” Joe shouted after him. “Other way!”

Your intrepid quintet managed to make it 10 minutes into your journey to Joe’s place before the night claimed its first victim. “Guys, I don’t feel so good” came Ben’s slurred moan from somewhere behind you. “Come on, Ben. We’re only 5 minutes from home” Joe groaned, still wobbling slightly from side to side as he walked next to Rami. “I’m serious” he moaned, his deep voice echoing down the deserted street. Rami just rolled his eyes at the blonde but you turned to check on him. The colour was slowly draining from his flushed cheeks and a pained look was wrinkling his forehead. Your eyes quickly flickered around the street before they settled on a dumpster just tucked into the alley to your right. Recognising the slackening of his jaw you jumped into action, grabbing the boy around the chest and steering him quickly towards the grey bin. You got him there in the nick of time, immediately retching loudly followed by a loud, hollow splash. “Oh, Benny” Joe sighed sympathetically, slowly stumbling over to his friend. Ben continued to vomit into the dumpster but you had to step away, feeling your stomach lurch uncomfortably. “You alright, love?” Gwil asked, his eyebrows knitting together as he noticed the stricken look on your face. You didn’t dare open your mouth to respond, instead searching desperately for another dumpster. There was no such luck but there was a rubbish bin a few metres away. Running as fast your heels could carry you, you folded over the metal frame and threw up what was left of your delicious dinner. You were vaguely aware of a presence behind you, their strong hand resting on your upper back. As your thundering heartbeat faded from your ears you could finally make out the words being whispered behind you. “Bad chicken nugget” Joe murmured, his hand still rubbing soft circles on your back. “Making mummy sick” “Don’t blame nugget” you muttered, spitting very elegantly into the bin. “s’not their fault” “Still” he shrugged, his hand not leaving your slightly damp back as you straightened up, the rolling nausea slowly fading away. “Bad chicken nugget” he slurred softly. You laughed dryly before turning to the rest of your group. Ben was leaning heavily against the window of a closed shop, his blonde head pressed firmly against the dark glass. His forehead was slightly shining with sweat and a distinct green tinge coloured his cheeks. “Alright, boys. Let’s get this baby to bed” you commanded, stepping away from the bin. Joe’s heart clenched slightly as you also stepped out of his reach. “And by baby I mean this one” you explained, gently grasping Ben’s hand. The rest of the boys sniggered as he opened his slightly bloodshot eyes. “Come on, lovey” you smiled softly. “If I move I might chuck again” he warned, the corners of his pillowy pink lips twitching down. “Well if you do I’ll hold your hair back” you assured him, grabbing onto his arm tightly so you could pull him away from the window. “I’ll hold yours back if you do too” he slurred, letting you peel him away from the glass and back down the street towards Joe’s house. “That’s a good boy” you cooed gently, rubbing his arm comfortingly. “Practicing for motherhood?” Rami chuckled, twisting around to look at the two of you. It turned out to not be his smartest idea as he stumbled over his own feet and crashed into an unsuspecting Gwilym. “Bunch of children” he muttered playfully, wrapping his arm around Rami’s shoulders. “Are we nearly there dad?” Ben shouted at Joe, who rolled his eyes at Gwil’s snigger. “Almost. Now settle down or I won’t let you have the Oreos hidden in the cupboard” he warned. Ben moaned loudly next to you but you couldn’t help but giggle. It was cute of him to try, but you couldn’t help but snort at his attempt to be authoritative. Joe had always had ‘fun dad’ written all over him.

“Here we are. Home sweet home” Joe grinned, digging into the pocket of jeans and withdrawing his set of keys. The orange light of the streetlights bounced off the silver metal as he opened the front door, but you were transfixed in place, jaw slightly ajar. It was the exact brownstone that Joe had shown you the listing for all those years ago. It still had the same green front door with matching window shutters and a rainbow of flowers blooming in planter boxes under the sills. It was the definition of the perfect home - the exact kind of home you’d been hoping to share with him. The realisation that he’d found it for himself left an unsettling feeling in your stomach. “How the hell did you afford this?” you blurted out rather inelegantly. The rest of the group chuckled as Joe’s cheeks flushed scarlet. “There was a nice bonus for each of us after BoRhap did so well” Gwil explained softly. “Damn” you murmured appreciatively. The lock clicked softly and Joe shepherded the group inside, flicking on the lights. A soft golden glow flooded the entry, bouncing back off the dark polished floorboards. The boys all charged deeper into the house towards the kitchen, Ben’s cries of “Oreos!” barely registering in your mind. An uncomfortable lump settled in your throat as you peered around the corner into the living room. Everything in the room screamed of Joe. He’d hung up all of his posters again and you smiled at the addition of a yellow and purple Bohemian Rhapsody print to the line up. The Jurassic Park one would always be your favourite though. “Cookie, milady?” a soft voice interrupted your thoughts. Joe offered you a small stack of biscuits. You were glad to see that he’d stopped swaying so much and happily took the cookies off him. “The house is beautiful, Joe” “Thanks” he murmured, a shy blush colouring his cheeks, “I was hoping you’d like it” “What’s not to like?” you chuckled, gesturing to the airy entry way and living room. “You bought a house. In New York. That’s the dream” “Well, Brooklyn” he corrected teasingly, nibbling the edge of one of his cookies, “But yeah, it’s pretty sweet” he opened his mouth to say something else, but the dull thundering of footsteps swept into the living room. “Bedtime!” Gwil was ordering, shoving Ben and Rami towards the polished staircase. Sharing a knowing smile you and Joe followed them to the second floor.  “Who’s sleeping where?” Rami asked as the five of your staggered up the stairs towards the bedrooms, cookies still clasped in your hands.  “Well I was going to share with Joe but I think that shan’t be the case now” Ben muttered, nodding to you.  “I can sleep on the couch, I don’t mind!” you volunteered quickly, a guilty heat prickling up your neck.  “No!” all 4 men replied immediately. You could tell from the tone that there would be no negotiating so you leant against the wall and watched them fight it out.  “The couch is too small for me!” Gwil argued when Ben suggested he sleep downstairs.  “Please you’re too big for any bed, you big tree” the blonde shot back playfully, swaying slightly on the spot. Gwil rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.  “Well if we’re using the height logic then Joe should sleep on the couch – he’s the smallest!” he argued. Joe’s mouth dropped open. “I’m not sleeping on the couch in my own fucking house!” he exclaimed, shoving another Oreo aggressively into his mouth, “it should be Rami!” “Uh, don’t think you’re going to be able to move him at this point” you interjected, pointing to the spare bedroom. The remaining 3 boys turned to follow your finger and groaned in chorus. Rami had evidently taken advantage of their bickering to step into the spare room, strip off his shoes and pants and hop under the covers. He was snoring soundly, covers tucked up to his neck.  “Well, Benny, looks like you’re on couch duty” Gwil grinned, slapping him firmly on his shoulder. The blonde groaned but seemed to accept defeat, moving to head back down the staircase. “Wait, I’ll do it on one condition” he stated, keeping his green eyes firmly on you. “You make us pancakes in the morning” “Deal” you grinned. Ben beamed triumphantly before descending down the wooden stairs.  “I’ll grab you some blankets” Joe volunteered, following his friend to the lower level. “Just grab anything you want from my dresser, Sweets” he called up, voice reverberating off the wooden floor, “Spare toothbrush under the sink as well” The second you walked into Joe’s bedroom it felt like being kicked in the chest. You were surrounded by every little thing that you’d missed so much for the last year. The abandoned stack of books on his nightstand that he always promised he’d get around to reading. His framed Yankees jersey hanging over the bed. His old baseball bat placed haphazardly against the wall. And the huge collection of framed photos that lived on top of his dresser. When you were pulling an old t-shirt and a pair of shorts out of the wooden drawer, your eye caught on a very familiar photo that made your heart stutter in your chest. It was a photo of you and Joe, taken on the set of Bohemian Rhapsody. You’d come to visit him for the first week – he’d insisted that he’d feel more confident if you were there. You’d thought that he looked so unbelievably adorable in his Live Aid outfit that you’d insisted on taking a photo. Joe, still a bit self-conscious about the perm, had agreed on the condition that you were in the photo too. You were both beaming at the camera, Joe’s arms wrapped firmly around your waist. If you looked close enough you could see Rami and Ben imitating the two of you behind the drum riser.  “It’s not weird that I still have that, is it?” Joe asked softly from the doorway. You shook your head, not daring to take your eyes off the photo.  “It was a good day” you murmured, clenching the clothes in your hand tightly as you willed yourself not to cry, tears prickling behind your eyes.  “Are you feeling a bit better?” he asked softly, padding across the dark carpet. He reached into the open drawer and withdrew a pair of his own pyjamas. “I’m okay” you assured him with a gentle smile. “Can’t wait for this part to be over though” Joe smirked at your chuckle, leaving you in front of the dresser to head into the en suit. While he was getting ready you swapped your slightly damp dress for Joe’s clothes, taking the moment to fold your dress carefully next to your heels, trying desperately to ignore the comforting feeling of the soft fabric against your skin. “All yours” Joe announced as he stepped back into the room, now clad in his matching blue pyjamas. You murmured your thanks as you scurried passed but it didn’t go unnoticed by Joe that your eyes racked down his figure before the door clicked shut. Sleep took you as soon as your head hit the pillow, but Joe refused. He lay awake, battling the drowsiness that was pulling against his eyelids. He knew he should sleep. It was late and he had a whole day of full of plans with the boys, but he just couldn’t tear his hazel eyes off you. Nothing about you had changed in the last year. You were still just as stunning, your hair splayed out on the pillow, lips slightly parted as you took deep steady breaths. And for a moment, just a moment, if he forced himself to forget about the baby - forget about the break up and just imagine that he’d never walked away from you - everything was right in the world. But reality came rushing back a few moments later, disappointment crushing against his chest.

The soft morning light streamed in through the gap in Joe’s curtains, falling across your face to rouse you from sleep. Groaning slightly you reached for your phone, squinting at the bright light, only to sigh in disappointment. Who wakes up at 7.30 on a Sunday? You were only awake and scrolling through Instagram for a few blissful minutes before you felt that all too familiar roll of your stomach, sweat prickling on your brow. As carefully as you could, you threw off the blankets and dashed out of the room. Stumbling down the corridor, you finally made it to the bathroom where you proceeded to fall to your knees in front of the toilet to throw up what was left of your late night Oreos. “You alright there, bub?” came a gentle voice from over your shoulder. You sat back with a grown, flushing away the evidence. “Just peachy” you muttered, standing to rinse your mouth out at the sink while Gwil watched you, nothing but sympathy in his deep blue eyes. “I didn’t wake you, did I?” you moaned, leaning against the marble counter. You watched him shake his head in the mirror, his messy hair falling across his forehead. “Rami kicked me in his sleep. Figured it might not be a bad idea to duck out and get them all some decent coffee. God knows they’re going to need it” he chuckled. “Did you want to come with? Fresh air always makes Sarah feel better” “Definitely” you grinned gratefully, exiting the bathroom. “Just let me get changed. Don’t think the public of New York are quite ready to see this” you chuckled, gesturing to Joe’s old basketball shorts and ripped Yankees shirt. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen Joe wear that exact outfit in public before so I wouldn’t worry” he laughed before heading down the stairs, leaving you to get yourself ready.

“So, how are you really doing?” Gwil asked the second the two of you stepped out onto the sunny street. A few pedestrians passed you but no one gave you a second glance much to both of your relief. “Told you last night, Gwil. I’m good” you replied lightly, keeping your eyes firmly on the concrete path ahead. You could feel his piercing gaze on the side of your face and resolutely ignored it. “Y/N, it’s just me” he said softly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “There isn’t anything you can’t tell me” “What do you want me to say, Gwil?” you asked measuredly as the back of your neck prickled uncomfortably. “I – I just – you’re doing a really good job of acting like everything’s okay. And I almost believe you. But this has to be hard” “Of course it’s hard” you murmured, scuffing your toe against the dark pavement, “You try throwing up 6 times a day. Oh, and pregnancy brain is 100% real by the way. I accidentally put my keys in the fridge and almost threw my phone away the other day” you chuckled. But Gwil could feel the hollowness of your voice. “I didn’t mean that” he replied softly, flapping the sides of his jacket nervously. “I meant spending so much time with Joe” Ice cold panic shot up your veins. For all the support you’d gotten from Flick and your family over the last 9 weeks, no one had articulated that particular issue. “I don’t mean to pry” Gwil murmured, interpreting your silence as offense, “I just can’t imagine it’s easy having him back in your life after so long” “There’s good and bad in it” you whispered after a long silence, letting your gaze drift to the emerald trees hanging over the road. “It’s just a weird reminder, you know?” you murmured, sniffling slightly and the Brit felt an overwhelming wave of sympathy for you. “Having him around just reminds me of how much I loved him and how much he hurt me at the same time. It’s exhausting honestly” “You’re handling it like an absolute champ, love” Gwil murmured as the two of you came to a stop outside the coffeeshop. He noticed the tears glistening in your eyes and pulled you into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around you. “That baby has got the toughest woman I’ve ever met as it’s mum” he whispered into your hair. A few tears dripped down your cheeks as you hugged him back just as tight. “Oh, and I have something to ask you” he added, voice much brighter than a few moments ago and you found yourself desperate for a change of subject. “Would you please come to the wedding? Sarah and I would both love to have you there” “Of course, Gwilly” you beamed into his shirt, giving him a tight squeeze around the middle. “Now, come on. Those hungover boys are relying on us” you chirped, reluctantly pulling out of his embrace. Gwil grasped the metal doorhandle, pulling the door open to let you in first. You smiled happily up at him as he let you pass, scurrying into the cold relief of air conditioning.

Joe slowly blinked awake as the delicious scent of vanilla flooded his bedroom. He sat up to see Gwilym standing in the doorway, a plate piled high with steaming pancakes in one hand while the other wafted the smell into the room. “Breakfast is ready when you are, your highness” the older man teased gently, stepping back out into the corridor. Joe grinned and threw the covers back, tearing out of the bedroom and down the stairs. When he walked into the kitchen he was greeted with a sight that made his heart skip a beat. Two of his best friends in the world were propped up at the kitchen table, both looking a little worse for wear but at least conscious, while his third best friend stood in the kitchen, evidently playing sous chef to you. You had that radiant smile on your face that he’d missed so much while you ladled batter into a sizzling frypan. You were dressed in your own clothes again and he felt his heart pang slightly. Last night he realised how much he’d missed seeing you in his clothes. His heart practically stopped when you pulled on his jersey. “Good morning, sunshines” he beamed at Rami and Ben who only managed grunts of acknowledgement. “Now we’re all assembled – we can eat!” Gwil cried happily, hurrying over to the dining table with three plates of pancakes in his hands. “Not so loud, mate” Ben groaned, slowly sitting up as his breakfast was dropped in front of him. “You young ‘uns. Don’t know when to stop” Gwil tutted mockingly, heading back into the kitchen to grab his plate of pancakes. “I distinctly remember a few nights in Japan that would negate your argument, Lee” Rami chuckled, taking a slow sip of water and wincing slightly. You smiled to yourself as you watched the round disks of batter slowly bubble in the pan. Of all the casts Joe had ever been a part of, there was something undeniably magical about the Bohemian Rhapsody boys. “Sweet mother of mercy, I forgot how good these were” Ben groaned, his lips firmly around his fork. Rami nodded enthusiastically, a droplet of syrup slipping down his chin. You giggled softly, flipping the last of the pancakes out of the steaming pan and onto your plate. “If we come to New York more can we have more pancakes?” Gwil grinned as you sat down opposite him. “I’m deeply offended that you only want me for my food” you pouted, cutting off a small section of your breakfast. “We like you for others reasons too” The laughter bubbling from your lips died as you felt your stomach roll. Oh no, not again. You dropped your cutlery with a clatter on the dining room table before dashing towards the bathroom for the second time that morning, your hand clasped over your mouth. “Shit” Joe whispered, immediately pushing away from the table and hurrying after you. “I’ve missed her” Rami murmured after a few moments, his eyes not leaving the half eaten plate of pancakes in front of him. “He’s missed her too” Ben added quietly, stabbing a square of pancake rather aggressively. A heavy pause passed between the three boys. “You reckon….?” Rami asked, his hand twitching slightly against the metal of his fork. “Guess we’ll have to wait and see” Gwil murmured, his blue eyes still fixed on the hallway his two friends had disappeared down.

THAT’S ALL FOR NOW! Stay tuned for the next chapter! TAG LIST!!

@sunflower-borhap-boys @blushingwueen @briarrose26 @mrsmazzello @escabell @yourealegendroger @sincereleygmg @zvzxs @dramatique-moi @borhapqueen92 @manuosorioh @deakyjohns @rogwhoretaylor

[stevieang]

May I Have This Dance? Chapter 5/?

Chapter 1   Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston RPF x Plus-Size Reader Insert

Word Count: 3600

Warnings: If too much sweet fluffiness isn’t your thing, then keep on going. This is full-on no-holds-barred fluff, though this chapter throws in some EXPLICIT CONTENT - smut, language, situations, etc. DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 years old.

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Summary: Two of your best friends are getting married and you have the honor of singing at their wedding.  At the reception you’re approached by a famous friend of the groom, Tom Hiddleston.  Much polite flirting ensues. Here’s the “more to come.” Enjoy!

A/N: Hey y’all!  Thank you so much for your time, your kind words, and all the good stuff you send my way! I am loving this fic now, and though this chapter took me a long time to start, it flowed once I did.  This chapter had a rough start, but then once I just wrote, no filtering, it came to me.  Of course, that meant a hella lot of editing, but that’s sorta my jam. :)

Now that was different.  A woman he was attracted to and wanted to spend more time with would not accept a gift from him.  He was pissed when she refused, worried when they didn’t talk, and understanding once they had. Guess he’d have to employ one of his weakest skills - patience.  Something - instinct, gut feeling, mojo - told him she was worth waiting for.                      _________________________________ That night, instead of talking, you got to work on a personal project you’d been putting off.  A pile of pictures had been in a box, under your bed, since you moved. When you put them in sequence and tucked the last one into the now-finished album, you felt complete.  As you looked over the pictures of you and John with and without dear friends and family, you felt peaceful. When you put the book away, grabbed your laptop and credit card and began to investigate flights and hotel prices, there was nothing but giddy excitement.  

Giddy morphed into deeply-rooted nervousness as you proceeded through customs at Heathrow.  Within a few days you were able to secure a flight and a place to stay in London that didn’t break the bank and keep all the plans secret - you took that as a sign you were doing the right thing.  You were disappointed that opening night tickets for Tom’s new play, “Betrayal,” were sold out, but you were able to secure good seats to the Saturday evening performance, which gave you a bit of time to get dolled up and obsess about everything.  You were almost certain that Tom would be ecstatic, but a tiny voice poked through your surety and planted insidious seedlings.

The dressing room was filled with flowers and well wishes.  Tom read each one and made sure his assistant knew to whom he should send thanks.  Reading your note was different - he couldn’t pass it on. It filled him with an urge to see you, to nuzzle your neck, holding your luscious body to his.  Goddamnit, this was harder than he thought it’d be. A quick “Thank you, love” text later, and the 5-minute-til-curtain announcement pulled him into the world of the show.

_________________________________

You read the text thanking you for the flowers, and felt ridiculously proud.  You obviously hadn’t given anything away, even remembering to tell him you couldn’t speak on the phone for the day you’d be traveling, as you had “plans.” You were impressed that your description of said plans was sufficiently believable so as not to prompt further inquiries. The day of the premiere you refused to let him think you forgot him, all the while itching to spring your surprise early.

_______________________________

He was supercharged, high off the success of the first night.  There were the usual opening night slip ups, but nothing too major. The chemistry between the three actors was palpable and worked in his favor, as the anchor.  He wasn’t the sexy lothario in this one, he was the wronged husband. He wasn’t the betrayer, but the one who was betrayed, and it felt fucking phenomenal. But….he missed you.  Missed talking and catching up at night. Missed hearing that little gasp when you answered. Missed the way your voice washed over him, soothed him. He was beyond grateful to his friends and family for showing up, and between the show and the after party it was an extremely satisfying and happy night.  Now, at home, alone, when you’d usually be talking, he felt your absence. When his text alert sounded after a brief repose from the lovely congratulations and messages of support, he wasn’t expecting what he read.

You: Congratulations!!! I wanted to let you know I was thinking of you and wishing I was there.

Tom: Thank you darling, that means a lot.

You: Do you want to tell me how it went? I understand if you’re exhausted and can’t, but I am very eager to hear how brilliant you were.

Tom was always surprised how good it felt to receive your compliments.  They were sincere and sweet and sometimes exaggerated, but he never doubted you meant them.

Tom: I am a bit tired, but I’ll say that I was quite pleased.  Zawe and Charlie were brilliant and the audience reacted in all the right places.  I remembered my lines and no one fell off the stage, so a good first night.

You: I’m sure you were all amazing, I’m so happy things went as you’d hoped. I snuck outside to text you, so I’ve got to get back. Just wanted to let you know you were on my mind.

Tom: Thank you, love.  You are often on my mind.  I do wish you were here, but I understand why you can’t be.  Watch for the reviews online, ok?

Tom drifted off after saying goodnight, but you were wound up, thinking about the next day and hoping it would be as well received as his first-night performance.                                          _______________________________

When the nerves hit, they hit hard.  As your hair was coiffed, your makeup applied, and your leather jacket draped over your black-and-silver outfit, you liked what you saw. The opening-night reviews had been glowing, and your ticket was already worth more than what you paid for it. Honestly, seeing the production was a lucky byproduct of traveling to see Tom, but you had a hard time focusing on any of it as you cabbed it to the theatre and were shown to your seat.

A million scenarios ran through your head.  Would he see you from the stage? (You were close but not that close).  Would you text him and give him an obliquely-worded hint? (He didn’t look at his phone during the show).  Would you wait for him to exit the theatre at the stage door? (God, these hypotheticals were making you nauseous. Enough.). As the curtain rose to more-than-polite applause, you felt your smile growing as Tom made his entrance and immediately owned the stage.

He was magnificent.  He used his body, his voice - everything he had to transform into the character, to become a completely believable cuckold who was stripped of loyalty from and to the woman he once loved and the friend he once held dear.  Your nerves were gone as you forgot about Tom and just saw his character, Robert. You’d experienced live theatre before, but never like this. Your heart broke for the characters, you wished they could experience their lives in the moment - with raw, real emotion instead of being so….reserved, so….closed off.  

When the final line was spoken and the audience stood and roared its approval for the cast, you continued to think about Tom’s power, his talent, and how much you wanted to experience it first hand, in every way possible.  The show was an aphrodisiac, filling your mind with possibilities and fantasies and your body with jolts of electricity. As the ushers encouraged people to exit, you took out your phone without hesitation.

You: Tom, you were magnificent tonight.  You were raw and powerful and sexy and commanding.  Thank you for being as good at your job as you are, it was a wonderful evening.

You didn’t expect a response, at least not immediately, so you grabbed a drink and some dinner at a nearby pub, thought about the show, and returned to your hotel, lit up with excitement, enjoyment, and expectation.  The clock was taunting you, keeping you mindful of each minute after the time Tom usually texted. You took an almost-hot shower, washing the beautifying lacquer off your hair and face and body, which helped settle you, and flipped through the TV channels, unable to remember anything you saw.

Then.  Your alert tone.

Tom: ????? Did you see the reviews????

You: Yes, I read them last night as you suggested - congratulations to the entire cast and crew - you were all roundly lauded.  After tonight, I can see why.

Tom: Wait…..

You weren’t surprised when the ringer went off as you started typing.

“Are you saying you were at the show tonight? My show? In London?”  You had to smile at his increasingly specific criterion, ensuring that you and he referred to the same place and event.

“Yes.  Tonight.  Your show.  London. It was unbelievable, Tom.”  Waiting for him to speak felt interminable.  You heard him breathe at the other end of the line, and would’ve missed what he said next if you hadn’t focused intently and shut off every other nearby source of noise.

“Didn’t you want to see me afterwards?” You gasped your answer.

“Of course I did, but it’s not like security would have let me backstage, and this isn’t like a 1920’s opera house where I could send a handwritten note by courier, alerting you to my presence - you told me your phone is off until you leave the theatre.” You heard doors closing, clicks, and street noise.

“Where do I tell the driver to go?”

_________________________________________

She was here, in London.  She saw the show tonight and she loved it.  She said he was sexy and raw and powerful. For the second time tonight, his adrenaline raced.  As soon as he read her text, deliberate thought vanished with just her in its place.

_________________________________________

The nerves were back, but this time with a giddy edge.  You considered changing back into your super cute theatre outfit, but decided real was better, and real was you in your pajamas with wavy hair at your shoulders and no makeup.  Well, maybe a smear of clear lip gloss and deodorant, just to make sure.

_________________________________________

Tom: I’m here

You: Room 607

Your breath caught when he knocked, hard.  His head was down, his hands in pockets as you looked through the peephole and unlocked the deadbolt.

You stared.  He stared back, through you, his eyes predatory, his body tense.  

“May I come in?” you both chuckled at him having to ask.  You looked down as you reached for his hand and followed his movement as he kissed it.  You walked backwards until you were far enough inside to close the door and silently hugged him, feeling his chin find its way to your shoulder as your hand ran through his curls.  His arms encircled your lower back with a strength that made you feel so safe, helped you know you were in the right place. His whispers sent shivers down your spine.

“You’re here. I can’t believe you’re here.” He laid tiny pecks along the top of your shoulder and shifted so they could trail up your neck and behind your ears.  “I missed you so much, darling. I could scarcely admit it to myself, but you knew.”

Your hands laced behind his neck as you smiled into his kiss.  You expected passionate groping, but this was soft, sweet, tender.  

You walked him over to the couch, “I missed you, too.  All the steps to get here just sort of happened, so I went with it.”  He smiled, his long fingers lightly brushing along your forehead, randomly dropping delicate kisses along the way, the whisper giving way to a grumbling rasp.  “I’m glad you went with it.”

You turned around and leaned over the back of the couch, your arm outstretched.  You giggled when his arms remained around your middle; his lips intermittently kissing your neck.  When he spotted what you were holding, the famous Cheshire Cat Tom Hiddleston smize lit up his entire face before pulling you in for a kiss that left you breathless.

“Want an autograph?” Your red face may have darkened another shade as he gently took it the Playbill from your hand.

“Actually, this is for you.”  His forehead reactively scrunched up and his laugh softened as you pulled him to sit with you. His face held questions until he realized what was inside - a sort-of scrapbook of your journey to get to that moment - mini pictures of you holding your ticket on the way from the US, going all touristy in London, and smiling while kissing the cheek of the huge poster of him outside the theatre.  He closed it and, without looking away, found your hand, lacing his fingers between yours. You turned the program over so he could read your words and watched as he read, sighed, and closed his eyes.

After a moment, you bent forward and raised your eyes in a silent question.  When his opened, tears balanced on the lower lids. You quickly placed your hands on his cheek and kissed him.

“Thank you, darling.  This is something my ancestors will swoon over when they find it among my most prized treasures.”  You laughed - at his memory for your conversations, at his sentiment, at his sweetness. You leaned back and encouraged him to put his head on your lap, where you sat peaceably, your fingers running through his curls and his absentmindedly running over your thighs, while you talked and laughed, ate takeout and kissed.

“Darling, wake up, come to bed.”  You were disoriented when Tom gently shook you awake and offered you his hand.  The room was dark and you weren’t yet familiar enough to navigate to the bedroom without a light.  You yelped when your feet and legs were run through with pins and needles, but eventually they subsided and you sank into the king-size bed, Tom pulling the covers over you and kissing your forehead.  That woke you up.

“Tom, please stay.  Please, there’s plenty of room and I think we’re both sufficiently tired to guarantee no funny business.  I give you my word I won’t make any untoward advances.” Even in the dark you could see his grin, and were relieved when he slipped back from the bathroom with his shorts and t-shirt on, keeping at least an arms length between you.  After a whispered “good night,” he was asleep, while you were very much awake with decidedly untoward thoughts running through your head.

You must have fallen asleep, because the streaming sunlight and your bladder were prompting your eyes to open and your body to get out of bed.  Tom slept, his face peaceful, his arm reaching out towards you. Morning business done, you started the electric tea kettle and bundled up in a sweater on the couch, looking out onto London.  

“What a beautiful sight to wake up to.”  You smiled to yourself as Tom made himself a cup of Earl Grey and sat down next to you, placing a kiss on your cheek.  You pulled your feet under you and fell in next to him, reveling in the warmth from his arm holding you close and his kisses on the top of your head.  The silence was easy and companionable, but it masked your jitters and edginess and awkwardness. Welcome back to your usual trifecta of feelings when you were uncomfortable.

You gently extricated yourself and stood close to the window, looking down at the big bustling city and sighed.  You didn’t notice him cross to the same window until he put a hand on your shoulder and gently turned you to face him.  

“It’s a bit early in the day to be sighing, dearest.  You ok?”

You were ok, really, but your small smile didn’t convince him of that.  You tried to sell it in the face of his unbelieving look.

“Yes, just tired I think.  All the traveling, excitement to surprise you, seeing you, the play….I could go on.” You couldn’t say what you were thinking, couldn’t tell him - clingy didn’t look good on anyone, so you tried walking away but he held firm, pulling you in for a languid, dreamy kiss.  Your sigh was different, this time full of satisfaction and pleasure. His eyes found yours as you practically glowed.

“Can I try one more tactic to solve this mystery?”  You face belied your suspicion, but you nodded your consent, irregardless.

He took your face in his hands and kissed you more passionately than he ever had while he walked his hands under the waistband of your pajamas.  His long fingers spread across the expanse of your ass, squeezing, rubbing, and eliciting a long, low moan. Your back arched as your arms circled tighter around his shoulders, unwilling to let him loose.  When you broke apart for oxygen, he walked you backwards towards the bedroom.

You stood at the end of the bed, unable to get each others’ clothes off fast enough - your nightshirt flew across the room, his pants were kicked away, until you were in your undies and he only his boxers.  His eyes raked over you with laser precision, not missing a roll or dimple or bump. All you felt was fire - alive, hot, and burning, through every part of you. You reached out for him, wrapping his arms around your back to unclasp your bra and then standing pressed to each other, skin to skin, unable to stop what was going to happen.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He had to ask twice before your brain registered words, and you were so damn hot from him kissing down your body, before you were both naked, you could barely formulate coherent speech.  You pulled him up and kissed him hard, pushing his boxers down while shimmying out of your boy shorts. In between urgent panting breaths, you gave the abbreviated version, before laying down on the bed and watching him prowl up your body, maximizing how much of his skin touched yours.  It didn’t matter, it wasn’t ever going to be enough.

You threw your head back, lifting your body off the bed, the sight of Tom staring through you increasing your arousal by the second.  He started to move off the bed, your protests making him smile while he pulled a condom out of his pants pocket. Before he could open it, you motioned him to travel back up your body.  When he stopped too early you scooted down so his engorged dick was directly over your mouth. You gently held the base, twisting and applying pressure as you moved up and down, feeling the rhythmic pulse of the vein running from root to tip as it bulged in your hand.

_______________________________________

Tom could not believe he was in her room, on her bed.  She was here with him, in London, because she wanted to be - no coercion, no false pretenses, just her quiet confidence in her feelings.  Whatever those feelings were, they were more than reciprocated. She captivated him, from her glee at the surprise, to the scrapbook, to the inscription - they made his heart practically jump out of his chest; he could not believe his luck.  When she opened the door, he wanted to hold her, wanted to kiss her and tell her sweet things she should hear every day of her life, and wanted to be with her in any way she wanted.

Though he wouldn’t have predicted falling asleep together, fully clothed, on the couch in a hotel room as the way his night would end, it was perfect.  They didn’t hold back, just did what felt right at the moment, and it worked. When he woke and heard her quietly singing in the living area, his heart lit up before he even opened his eyes, and when he saw her watching his city, having a cuppa, he was reminded of what attracted him in the first place.  She was peace. She was light. He hoped she was his.

Right now, though, she was under him giving him what may have been the best blow job he had ever experienced.  He kneeled above her face, clenching every muscle below the waist, but as she grabbed his ass and worked him with her mouth, it became increasingly difficult to stay still.  

“Darling, darling, stop.”  As painful as it was - literally - he sat back on his haunches, popping out of her mouth.  He looked at her swollen lips, lusty eyes, and tore open the condom and rolled it on, no fluffing needed. He felt “it” - the desire for everything about her, everything she was, flood his senses.  He could only do one thing, let her feel him, feel how much he felt for her.

_______________________________________

You scooted back to the head of the bed and couldn’t help but run your hands over your full tear-drop breasts, your torso covered in a landscape of lines you were once ashamed of but now knew were your prizes for living and surviving. Tom’s face was...different. He leaned forward over you, capturing your lips in a kiss so simple, so pure while encouraging you to get ready for him to be inside - the only place you wanted him to be.

As he broke the kiss you warned him how loud you could get.

“Guess I’ll have to think of ways to keep that pretty mouth busy, then.”  He nudged your legs wider apart, and proved what a good man he was.

“Do you want this, my love? Do you want me?” It was unfathomable to you that he might think you didn’t, but you gave your consent faster than you thought possible, kissing him in appreciation.

“Yes, please, I’m so ready, I need you so badly baby.”  With his forehead leaning against yours he used his tremendous strength to hold himself up on his forearms while he slid inside.  He was surprised when he didn’t need to slowly inch in, that you were able to take him in without pain, and ask for more, faster, harder almost immediately.

He started rocking back and forth, holding the headboard while following your every command.  You both knew there was no way you would hold back for long, and neither of you wanted to. Within half a dozen strokes, he was so close he could cry, and your entire body felt like lava, completely molten and unable to cool.  You wanted nothing more than to yell out you could not take another second without coming, and he knew. He leaned in, rasping out all the encouragement you needed to let go and cum furiously all over his cock, immediately pulling him with you over the edge.

If it was possible to feel like lead and air at the same time, you were there.Your body hadn’t been fucked that gloriously in a very long time, and it filled you with an afterglow that anyone would see, but also with the need for sleep.  To sleep, perchance to dream of this wonderful man breathing deeply beside you, watching you adoringly, and wanting nothing more than to stay right where he was for as long as you wanted him.  

Chapter 6

[renegade-skywalker]

Out of the Abyss, Chapter 18

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2  / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18: Hedging Bets

After years in exile, ex-Jedi General, Eden Valen (now going by Vale) continues to clean up after Revan and Malak’s mess of a war, only to find herself forever cursed with their unfinished business. As an ill-fated lead brings her to Tatooine, Eden finds that Revan’s mysterious plans go beyond the Republic, beyond the Outer Rim, and into the utter unknown. (A novelization of The Sith Lords and beyond)

Chapter Summary: Now in transit, Mission and Erebus head towards the next leg of their journeys while Brianna comes to the final chapter on hers... for now.

Also found on AO3 | fanfiction.net

3951 BBY, Hyperspace Mission

“I need you to get to Coruscant as quickly as possible, or anywhere Mid-Rim if you can,” Carth was near manic now, his nerves apparent even on the hologram, “Did you get a good look at the ship?”

“It’s a Star Forge Centurion-class battlecruiser, that’s for sure,” Orex replied, arms crossed and voice gruff as usual, “Though it looked pretty beat up. Not sure how that thing was still in orbit.”

“What’s on Coruscant, Carth?” Mission asked, already impatient, “I don’t even have anything to deliver to Bastila, the Exile still has the… erm, the package, or whatever it is.”

“I realize that, but I need you to get as far away from the Outer Rim as possible, do you hear me?” Carth said, almost reprimanding, concern coloring his face. Mission wanted to make fun of him for it but instead bit her lip and let the amusement wash over her, a pleasant change from the panic that had otherwise taken over.

“Not to butt in here, but we had orders to rendezvous on Dantooine,” Zayne cut in, “I don’t know exactly how this little operation worked before Draay had me take over, but the rest of my crew’s at the old temple, and if these Sith are looking for something specific-”

“They’re looking for something specific alright,” Carth said, “The Exile.”

The room fell silent as Mission, Orex and Zayne all exchanged glances, waiting for Carth to continue but finding that he wasn’t about to award their patience just yet.

“But-” Mission began, looking at both Zayne and Orex before turning to Carth again, “Isn’t she headed for you?”

“I sure as hell hope so,” Carth replied, sighing, shoulders slumping slightly at the admission. The man needed sleep, Mission knew that much, but wasn’t sure if he’d get any. None of them had. “We lost contact with the Harbinger a couple of hours ago. We’ve heard nothing since.”

There was only silence and dread. Mission didn’t want to look at the others, her gaze fixed on Carth as he watched on anxiously, and she knew it killed him to appear too vulnerable. But what with Revan gone and everything going south...

“This is no coincidence,” Zayne assured them suddenly, taking on an air of authority that wasn’t wholly out-of-character but still jarring, as if things weren't dire enough, “But I still say we head to Dantooine. It’s enough out of the way for us to disappear while things blow over. If anything, our heading compared to the Harbinger may confuse them, if they’re still chasing her.”

“The Exile was last seen with us, I’m sure of it,” Mission said, “I’m pretty sure we were followed for at least part of the way in the market, and if anyone thought to keep tabs on us after-”

Carth nodded though not quite in agreement, more like he was thinking things over, considering all possibilities.

“That might work,” he eventually said, a hand stroking his bearded chin, the streaks of grey even visible in his holo-double. “It might be our only option, given how much time has passed.”

They had jumped to hyperspace as soon as they were in range, but even then they had only just jettisoned to the nearest feuling depot. Zayne’s shuttle was already sputtering by the time they’d cleared the Nespis moon, and even now it was rumbling unnervingly beneath them as they talked things over.

“If you do go to Dantooine, make it quick,” Carth conceded after another moment of consideration, “If these Sith are looking for any remaining Jedi, they just might head there first.”

Zayne nodded, understanding, his expression grim. Carth nodded again and without another word signed off, the space where his holo-shadow had been now strangely empty, the room oddly quiet.

“So I guess we’re going to pick up our original shipment after all?” Mission asked, turning to Zayne now, who was running a hand through his hair.

“Looks like it,” Zayne let out an uneasy breath, and turned to Orex, “And if we’re lucky, maybe a little extra. Y’all along for the ride?”

“To the end,” Orex affirmed, hand on his blaster as if the man were swearing an oath. His good eye turned on Mission, and she couldn’t help but nod in return.

“To the end,” she said, wishing she had a drink to toast the sentiment with. A strong one.

------------------------------

3951 BBY, Hyperspace Erebus

“May I ask why you’re so keen on Dantooine, Master?” Erebus sneered, uncomfortable with the amount of strangers on his ship and the circumstances under which they were all here. Mical was still looking meek, though more-so by choice than by nature, strategically shrinking himself into the background by remaining quiet and compliant. On the other hand, Master Vash wouldn’t stop examining every corner of Erebus’s ship, but not with any innate curiosity, something more like an insatiable impatience.

“The visions said as much,” she responded, absently examining every surface still, unsatisfied with what she’d found.

“Right, obviously,” he murmured, sighing as he collapsed into his desk chair. “When you’re ready to give me some real answers, just let me know.”

Master Vash shot him a glare.

“Judging by the… items in your possession, I would say you’re not one to judge.”

“Yet here you are doing just that, judging. I don’t answer to you anymore, Lonna, nor do I follow the will of the Council as you may very well guess,” Erebus mocked, waving a hand about at his cargo hold, “And let’s be fair, no matter whose side I’m on, this is still my. ship.”

It all felt surreal. Sleep deprivation and pure exhaustion would have otherwise wrecked him, but now he was running purely on the now-potent fumes of fear and anger, almost egging himself on as Lonna Vash explored his stores without express permission. He could live off his fear for long enough, but it was the anger ran through him like adrenaline. His eyes would glow a molten yellow if he was forced to keep it up, as he knew from experience, fading only when the aggravation faded… or when he let it. Lonna flashed him another glare, and limped toward him.

“This is as much a shock to me as it is to you,” she admitted, setting herself down slowly on one of Erebus’ unopened cargo crates across the room from him, her eyes intent on holding his gaze as she spoke, “I am only here because the Force wills it.”

Erebus rolled his eyes before he began nursing his right temple with a thumb and forefinger, “Why am I not surprised?”

What else did the Force have in store for him? He could scoff at the idea, despite the mounting evidence.

“It’s only going to get worse,” Lonna laughed a hollow laugh, her expression dark, “Trust me.”

Erebus’ hand dropped from his head and into his lap, both hands now forming clenched his fists - attempting to control his anger, temper it, lest Master Vash get another snippet of his thoughts unwillingly - before releasing all tension by spreading his fingers wide again, like a blooming flower. No electricity prickled at his fingertips with the movement. He breathed, relieved, but continued to watch on as Master Vash made herself comfortable with a wary gaze. Lonna closed her eyes, inhaling slowly as she let the weight off of her bad leg. Erebus glanced down but saw nothing other than the cloth of her pants and the edge of her boot, seemingly intact, only extending to just above the ankle. Whatever injury plagued her it was an old one, her appearance otherwise unruffled.

“Let’s start at the beginning shall we?” Erebus smiled sourly, sending a wayward glance at his desk and the onyx pyramid that stood there, its dark energy radiating. He wondered if Lonna Vash could feel it too.

“As you know, I was one of the Jedi that judged your sister some nine years ago,” she began, pulling no punches.

Erebus nodded, remembering the news clear as crystal. He had been both enthralled and horrified when Atris told him. Elated to hear that his sister had been dealt due judgement for her actions, for rebelling, but devastated to hear what had become of her, to hear of the shell of herself that she had become. He could feel the hollowness of her cheeks, could see the dark circles wreathing her eyes, sense the sallowness of her skin, the ache in her heart and in her chest and her bones. And to hear Atris deliver the news with such righteous surety, with a fire in her eyes he was certain could not be sated, it broke him. Even as a nemesis, Eden was more worthy of her attention than Aiden, Atris’ own student. It was no wonder he fell not long after that, letting a bloody brawl in an alley of a backwater metropolis lead him down the path he was still currently headed on… granted Nihilus didn’t kill him for it.

“I had my doubts then, as I’m sure Atris might have told you.” Master Vash said this was absolution, and Erebus nodded again. He remembered Atris’ rant, her angered words as she paced the Jedi Archives in retelling the trial in its entirety before him as he tried to catalogue their latest shipment of ancient scrolls.

“Yet you still voted in favor of her exile,” Erebus mused, “Curious.”

Vash sighed, “This is true. Though I will admit, it was in part due to my trust in Master Kavar. He seemed quick to judge her, his own student.”

Wrong, Erebus thought. Kavar had nearly become Eden’s Master, before he chose a seat on the Council over her. In that regard, Erebus had always been happy that his sister had some inkling of what it felt like for your mentor to favor another protege over you, even though Kavar chose the Jedi as a whole over Eden instead of a single student, as Atris had with her, before realizing Eden would rebel against everything she believed in.

“I doubt it means anything to you, but that single decision haunted me for years,” Vash said, closing her eyes for a moment before saying anything further, “Zez-Kai Ell as well. He believed we should have explored her abilities, allowed her a full trial. I think he was right, and I know I wasn’t the only one, eventually. But none of us did anything about it. We lived with our choices and then moved on. Until Revan came… again.”

“Again?”

“You’ve undoubtedly heard the story, or some version of it,” Lonna continued, a wry smile spiriting over her lips “Revan is betrayed by Malak and suddenly becomes an agent of the Light again? A tool of the Jedi?”

Erebus shook his head. He’d heard of Revan’s change of heart, but among the Sith the nature of her new allegiance was glossed over, likely due to Malak’s attempt at keeping the remaining Sith under his power in line, a haphazard effort of turning those who followed solely for Revan into loyal followers of whoever held the Sith mantle.

“An interesting story at that, and none that would paint the Jedi too kindly.”

Mical appeared in the doorway now, arms crossed as he leaned against the frame, locking eyes with Erebus before he said, “We’re on course for Dantooine, alright. We should arrive within the day.”

“Excellent,” Lonna said, “You should be happy.”

Mical balked, looking at Erebus again before continuing.

“Erm… me?”

Lonna laughed knowingly, but didn’t elaborate.

“You arrived just in time for a history lesson,” Erebus greeted, extending a hand towards another unoccupied cargo container, “I heard you were a fan. Take a seat.”

Heard. More like pried into his mind and extracted, Erebus thought. Though best to assert dominance where he could, especially now with another Force user on board. Mical scowled but did as Erebus said, his wary gaze shifting between Erebus and Lonna, looking the opposite of relaxed once he sat down.

“As you were saying,” Erebus said, directed at Master Vash now, “Revan, the Jedi tool.”

Mical sighed and mouthed a silent ah, as if he knew the story, watching Master Vash with some mild intent despite sensing Erebus’ latent bitterness.

“I won’t go into detail, though perhaps I will later, if you have a mind,” she said, as if silently making fun of Erebus, a Sith, for not knowing the true nature of Revan’s sudden change of allegiance. “But it didn’t sit well with me, nor did it sit well with Zez-Kai Ell. Though I wouldn’t have long to discuss it at length with him. Or anything else for that matter.”

Erebus waited, watching Master Vash, noting the dark coloring of her robe, the streaks of grey in hair, yet the sharpness that never seemed to leave her eyes despite the pain she was in, even while sitting.

“And not long after Revan’s change of heart, Jedi continued to go missing. What I mean to say is that Jedi had been disappearing since the beginning of the civil war, undoubtedly in part to Revan’s influence. But even while Revan was being watched by the Jedi it continued, much as it had before, but this time under Malak. And then once Malak was defeated, things were quiet for a while. Until it started happening again, six months ago. Though, I have a feeling you may know what’s behind that.” Erebus remained silent for a moment, mulling it all over. He had been one of those first missing Jedi, gone rogue once the civil war broke out.  Recruited by Revan, though not personally, just a remnant of a program she had put in place. But he hadn’t turned out of love for Revan. In fact, he still felt the opposite, even all these years later.

“I’m curious as to how you can say that with such surety,” Erebus drawled, narrowing his eyes.

“As much as it may seem the contrary, I am not here to accuse you,” Lonna continued, “Your Master is the key to the missing Jedi, yes, but there is oh, so much more to it than that.”

“This is where the visions come in, I take it?” Erebus asked, almost accusing. He wasn’t sure where Master Vash was going with this, and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

“As a matter of fact yes,” she said, standing again now, “As well as your visions.”

Mical looked between the two of them, unsure of what was unfolding and unsure of whether he wanted any part in it. Erebus’ gaze remained fixed on Lonna, who now stood over him with her arm outstretched.

“Let me see the artifact,” she said quietly, and Erebus knew exactly what artifact she meant. “He might need to see it, too.”

She glanced at Mical, surprised again to be acknowledged.

“Then you might want to show us what you uncovered back at that temple.”

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3951 BBY, Citadel Station Atton

Atton eyed the Pazaak table, still unsure.

Nursing his second drink, he tried his best not to watch the gambling but failed, keeping a keen eye on each player’s hands, looking for even the slightest movement in the eyes, a blink or a twitch, a tap of the knuckles, a twinge in a lekku strung over a shoulder. Instead he feigned to appear nonchalant, bored almost, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t tempted to go at it himself.

You’re a natural, his father would say. A shame you can’t teach me how you do it.

He’d tried, once or twice, but his father’d been slow to read others, too preoccupied with showing off and making a show than anything else. Atton had tried getting him to look at the smaller details, teaching him how to read the other players and how to keep track of the numbers in his head. But Atton was shit at explaining things, and his father was shit at listening. Plus, if Atton couldn’t help his father cheat at cards, there was no reason for him to stick around, no reason for his dad to pity him and let him pocket some of his winnings before being shooed back home to his hovel where his mom would be waiting, with credits if he was lucky.

He hadn’t yet decided if Atton was the type to gamble, the sort of man to place his bets. It was gambling that got him into this mess in the first place, the reason why he decided to saddle up with the Peragus mining outfit to settle his debts. Jaq had been an amazing gambler, gambling often and recklessly with his life and his money. But the aliases that came after had varying luck, and his last one dealt the worst hand of the bunch.

His fingers itched, his brain already busy counting, singling out the victors before the game was even half over. Even if he didn’t play, he could still turn a credit on backing a winner alone. But that was still betting, wasn’t it?

Atton downed his drink, at least certain that this Atton Rand was a drinker. He could play Pazaak games in his head if he wished, but conjuring the effects of juma was something else entirely. Maybe if he could somehow figure out how to more effectively numb himself - his thoughts, his feelings, his regrets, and daresay his fears - then maybe he could manage foregoing it. For now, the alcohol was necessary. Very necessary.

As if reading his mind, or at least craving the credits, the bartender slipped his empty drink out of one hand and slid a full one into his other. Too thankful to be dumbfounded, Atton only nodded and began sipping again, trying not to eye the Pazaak table now, as if were a challenge.

How long can you go before you slip? He thought bitterly, How long does it take for the memories to creep back? For the guilt to set in?

Sneering at no one, Atton turned to the other side of the bar, now in full view of the performing band and the throng of the dancing crowd beyond. Despite a lack of skill, he could lose himself in there. If he downed another drink or three, he could disappear, dissolve until he was nothing but sweat and heavy breathing, the beat thrumming in time with his pulse as if it was all he was born and bred for. It was either that or waste away in his designated apartment, surfing the spice channels until something worse came his way…

But what he really wanted was… sky. Space and sky. And stars.

He’d applied for a delivery rotation with Peragus, not knowing they weren’t the type of outfit to take position requests. They were full up on delivery pilots, booked with ship outfitters and repairmen, no need for a single worker having anything to do with their incoming, outgoing or out-of-commission vehicles or even a position with even a sliver of a view of the wrecked asteroid field and the stretch of space it hung precariously in. But they were in constant need of miners, considering the hazard pay and all - not that the money made up for the mortality rate. Which Atton took as a challenge after considering it. But as much as he might deserve death, he was a survivor, above all else. And he'd yet to change his mind.

The view was shit here on Citadel Station, the window outside the cantina offering little else other than countless finger smudges on the duraglass that separated the station from the inhospitable atmosphere outside, but it sure as hell beat the view from Atton’s room. Maybe he’d meander the station for a while, clear his head, and try to forget about Pazaak, about his debts, about his father, his past…

He downed the rest of his drink and began rummaging through his jacket pocket for credits, only for the bartender to stop him. The bartender held up a hand as the droid beside him tendered credits from a woman across the bar, her pink skin aglow as she winked at him and nodded, biting her lip as she shooed him off, assuring Atton silently that she’d cover his tab.

Atton paused, unsure if he’d ever seen the Zeltronian woman before and if he’d ever made a pass at her, or worse, owed her money, her gesture more of a threat than one of good will in hopes of a future rendezvous. Or perhaps she was just an interested patron, hoping to catch a man drunk enough to dance.

He doubted it, but Atton nodded in return all the same, brows furrowing as he turned to leave, his limbs suddenly leaden with the movement. Atton shot the woman one last glance, her eyes still on him as he retreated from the bar, a strand of crimson hair falling into one of her eyes as she watched him leave, gaze unwavering. Atton froze. Normally, he wouldn’t walk away from an invitation, but this one seemed… strange. He hadn’t been looking to shack up with anyone, but more than that, he felt as if this gesture came with strings attached, though still unseen. So he thought it best to cut ties while he still can, acting as if he’d always meant to leave, regardless if this woman wanted him to stay or not.

He turned back again, eyes fixed on the cantina’s exit, knowing the entire time that he was being watched. Atton scanned the space with his peripheral vision, careful not to linger on any one person for too long, uneasy as he made his way back to his sad excuse for a room. He glanced at the duraglass, hungry for some slice of sky, but the air outside was instead full of a thick, grey smoke, billowing in stacks just beyond the window.

“Ain’t that a metaphor if there ever was one,” Atton murmured, shoving his hands in his pockets, already hungry for the empty black of sleep.

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3951 BBY, Hyperspace The Last Handmaiden

Fire. All she could see was fire. A blue-hot flame at the core of the galaxy, burning, burning… burning bright in the center of a black hole, time warping around it in a way she could not explain only… feel. It echoed within her, the very core of her, somehow, commuting its existence without words, before disappearing entirely. And then… she was in a room, but asleep, suspended in something but not swimming, unaware of what was around her other than the lukewarm liquid that made her skin tingle as if she were drenched in menthol, cool and warm at once. She could feel lights shudder out, one by one by one, before the darkness settled in, like a ship overhead, eclipsing the sun, much as it had back on Nespis VIII, back when-

Brianna woke with a start, fever in full swing. When she opened her eyes, the world was black static, the ship around her slowly coming into focus as the sounds around her grew to a low murmur, then a gentle hum, like an engine running. Only… there was an engine running beneath her. The ship… Her hands grasped at the sheets she was wrapped in, her palms pressed against the thin mattress as if to confirm that she could feel the engine running somewhere beneath her, that she was on a ship, that she was no longer in the Jedi Temple on Nespis VIII…

The last she remembered she was running through a room full of bodies, either dead or about to fall, and a man… a most familiar man…

“You’re finally awake,” Arianna’s voice floated into the room from nearby. Brianna swung to meet the sound but found herself dizzy, her vision swimming. “Sit, sister. Sleep.”

She could hear her sister cross the room and set herself down beside her, the weight of her body shifting the mattress slightly.

“I’m surprised we got you out of there,” Arianna continued bitterly, “If there were any time to lose consciousness, that was not it.”

Brianna was too weak to reply, though her mind knew she was in the right, that she had acted accordingly, though… how did she know? Her memory was fuzzy, though part of her knew something wasn’t right, something hadn’t added up back at the temple. But she was in no state or test her theories, and no state to trust her own judgment or recollections…

Brianna tried to will herself awake, though her vision was fading again. With Arianna at her side, the blue-hot flame from her dreams formed again in her central vision, though her sister’s hand on hers anchored her to the here and now, an image transfixed like a ghost in the room that only Brianna could see.

“Your fever should break, before we arrive,” Arianna said, resting her other hand on Brianna’s burning forehead for a moment before pulling away. “And Mistress says you’ve done well, for now,” Arianna continued, almost cooing, as if Brianna were still a child needing coaxing before bedtime. Brianna wanted to glare at her, but another part of her shrunk away, ashamed as always, wondering what she could have done to do better, to be better, allowing the dream-image of the flame and the pressing dark of sleep close in around her.

Mistress had trusted Brianna with her initial mission after all - her first foray into the galaxy alone, without her sisters, without supervision. It was nice, for a change, but temporary. Only temporary.

And with that, Brianna drifted back into a fitful half-sleep, filled to the brim with dreams and visions, and the unending black at the edges of space.

---------------------------------

3951 BBY, Citadel Station Atton

Atton had never ridden a swoop bike, but now he was betting on one. He’d approached the table with an intention of hitching a ride, of at least bartering with the bookie to let him take one for a spin. But it was a no-go. It was all bets or nothing, and unfortunately, Atton had the credits to spare.

He started small - five credits. Then ten… then fifteen… but he stopped at twenty. Managed to stop at twenty, giving himself hell for it after forking over the last of his pocket money. He’d intended the cash to pay for juma and juma alone, and it was the lack of drink in him that convinced him to stop betting. And it was on his last bet that he actually won.

No. Not again. Not now.

As soon as the cash prize was doled out, Atton strode to the bar, making sure to turn his back to the swoop den tucked in the corner, lest he find himself itching to place another wager.

“Come here often?” a voice cooed in his ear as he finally edged into a seat as its previous owner edged out of it.

Atton glanced sidelong at the voice’s owner - the Zeltronian. Again.

“I take it you know the answer to that,” he replied darkly, taking a sip of his drink, the heat of it slithering down his throat, “And I take it you must come here often enough to notice.”

“I only take notice of those worthy of my attention,” she smiled, the pointed edges of her incisors peering out over the edge of her red-painted bottom lip. Atton doubted that, about to abandon his newfound seat to find a table somewhere, one without unoccupied chairs - but the woman stopped him, a manicured hand caressing his chest until he sat back down again.

“Whatever it is you’re selling, I’m not interested,” Atton said without breaking his gaze, downing his glass and placing it on the bar with purpose.

“Who said I’m selling anything?”

Atton narrowed his eyes and glanced at the swoop bike den, at the pazaak tables in the corner, thinking only of the debt he owed. Shaking his head, he stood back up despite the Zeltronian’s hand still placed gingerly on his chest, though he knew an old version of himself would gladly take her up on her offer - whatever it was.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” was all Atton said before walking off.

He craved another drink, or maybe three, but he didn’t like the feel of this. In another life, Atton would have taken any offer handed to him, and in another, he would only do it if he deemed it worthy of his time, depending on his mood. He might have flirted a bit more back at the bar but still… he knew a swindler when he saw one, and even an afternoon with a plaything wasn’t worth it. Not that Atton had the interest for such a thing anymore, anyway.

Without thinking, he’d walked himself to the shuttle depot, watching as countless ships docked and undocked, and undoubtedly argued with the port authority on landing codes from the comfort of their own cockpits. Maybe soon he’d transfer to a shipping unit, managing cargo to and from the mining facility. Maybe his transfer request would be granted once he returned from his annual leave. One year down, four more to go. He sighed, knowing his luck didn’t run that thick.

With nowhere else but the bar to haunt, Atton considered grabbing a bite before ultimately settling on the idea of sleeping. Like a ghost he wandered the station, wondering how in the ‘verse he landed with this sorry lot this time. Well, at least I’m not dead, he thought, keying in the code for his sorry excuse for a company apartment, eager to toe off his boots and dive head first into the lumpy bed assigned to him for the week being. But when the doors to the module slid open, a woman was waiting for him at the small sitting area, a blaster in her hand.

“I really just wanted to talk, Atton,” she said at the sight of him, running a nail along the white leather of the chair she sat in, and tsked casually before continuing, “Now look what you’ve made me do.”

[coneygoil]

The House We Built Together, part 7

Two young Vikings. An arranged marriage. Hiccup always wanted to win the girl of his dreams, but not like this. Now he and Astrid must learn to live together and maybe one day, learn to love…

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Writer’s note: Wow, this chapter turned out unexpectedly over 2k word count. Thanks to @wolfie-dragon-rider and @bitter-feat-dragons for the little bits of brainstorming I used in this chapter (it’s been so long, y’all probably don’t even remember helping me with getting ideas XD). 

It was strange living with someone you barely knew. Learning their habits and quirks. Etching their facial expressions to memory. Recording their tones of voice and frequently used words.

Astrid was quickly learning more about Hiccup than she ever thought she would.

Hiccup fiddled. A lot. His hands were constantly busy like they were impossible to keep still. His apprenticeship as a blacksmith made a world of sense now. When he first started under Gobber, Astrid wondered how someone so small and clumsy could survive around a searing fire and sharp edges and heavy equipment. But she was slowly figuring out that Hiccup was very adept with his hands.

Hiccup flat out lied. He wasn’t just a little good at cooking. He could cook. Astrid watched him in awe at how he effortlessly worked in the kitchen and over the firepit. How he made such a delicious stew was beyond her and she eagerly jumped up for seconds. He chuckled over her enthusiasm and Astrid noted how she rather liked seeing him laugh.

Hiccup made good on his promise to teach her some cooking skills. He was patient and explained everything in just the right way for her. Astrid was thankful for these moments they’d had in the first few days as newlyweds. She was not only learning a new skill, but it gave her and Hiccup a chance to get to know each other, spend time together without the uncertainty of not knowing how to act around each other.

She was growing to enjoy his company.

There were still times of awkward shyness that lingered in the space around them. The bedroom being the worst.

Hiccup insisted on going to bed at the same time as Astrid, as if that was some sort of rule in marriage. In the back of Astrid’s mind, she wished he’d choose a later time to join her, when she was asleep and didn’t have to be conscious of the accidental touching.

It’d happened a few times. Her foot would brush his foot. She’d freeze, her breathing ridiculously loud in her ears. His elbow would poke her back. Astrid wondered if Hiccup froze the same as she did. The next night, they clung to the edges of the opposite sides of the bed, backs to one another. Sharing a bed was by far the hardest experience yet.

It wasn’t until the fourth night that Astrid found out Hiccup hadn’t been staying in bed. A scratching noise drew her from sleep. Astrid screwed her eyes down tight, drawing her shoulder up against her ear. Then the scratching stopped, replaced by the sound of papers fluttering apart filling the quiet of the room.

Astrid blinked open her eyes. A soft glow from a candle lit the wall. She rolled over to discover the other side of the bed empty. She followed the source of the light to the far side of the room. There, sat Hiccup at his desk, his back hunched over and his left elbow moving. She gritted her teeth as the scratching continued once again.

Pushing herself up to sit, Astrid climbed off the bed. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she padded across the room and stopped just out of Hiccup’s peripheral vision. Several drawings were scattered over the desktop, but Astrid couldn’t make out what they were drawings of.

“Hiccup?” her voice was scratchy, and she cleared her throat.

The boy jumped and snapped his head around to look at her in surprise. In her sleep-muddled mind, Astrid thought she caught the tip of his tongue sticking out from between his lips. After a five second stare down, his tongue slipped back in and Astrid wondered if she’d imagined it.

“Astrid, did I wake you?” Hiccup asked, apologetically.

“Yes,” she replied, bluntly. She thought back to their wedding night and his admission of staying awake most of the night, “You couldn’t sleep again?”

“Not really,” he admitted, sheepishly. His eyes flicked down to where his sketch laid out before him. “It’s taking me a little longer to get used to sharing a bed, I guess.”

“I can sleep somewhere else if that’ll help,” Astrid gave, but the distressed look on Hiccup’s face told her he didn’t agree with the offer.

“No!” He thrusted a hand in the space between them as if to reach out to stop her. “If anyone should go sleep somewhere else, it’s me.” His hand lowered slowly, and Astrid spotted his tongue nervously playing with the inside of his cheek. When he finally raised his gaze to meet hers, there was a longing there that she’d never noticed before. “But- I really don’t want either of us to sleep somewhere else.”

“Okay,” Astrid nodded and grabbed her bottom lip for a moment. “Come to bed when you’re ready.”

“Okay.”

As she retreated to the bed, an invisible heaviness projected on her back. She tried to hide a glance behind her bangs, catching Hiccup watching her over his shoulder. The scratching started up again, but it was quieter and didn’t grate at her.

Sleep began to sink into her bones when Astrid felt the bed dip on the opposite side. She wasn’t sure if it was her sleep-hazed mind playing tricks on her, but Astrid thought she felt a hand hovering a hair from her waist, longing to touch, but not daring to.

***

His father was coming to supper. Stoick the Vast – Chief of Berk – was coming to supper! Astrid held back her trembling hand that needed to punch something, anything! How could he do this to her? Hiccup knew she couldn’t boil water to save her life! How was she supposed to prepare a meal fit for a Chief?

“It wasn’t my idea. He insisted.” Hiccup explained with a shrugged that made her want to slug him.

Astrid found the money purse then nabbed the ties of Hiccup’s shirt. “If we’re doing this then we need better provisions than grain and salted yak meat.”

She was thankful for the experience shopping at the market that she’d received growing up. Her father and mother would bring her. Astrid enjoyed scoping out the goods and wares, along with the various food items available. She knew roughly how much goods cost.

Hiccup picked up a nice rye bread loaf, the golden brown braided top looking enticing delicious. “My dad likes this.” He met the vendor’s eye. “The usual?”

“Yes, sir,” the vendor, Halvard, replied with a cheery smile and holding his hand out eagerly, “One gold coin.”

Alarm shot up Astrid’s spine at the presumed cost. She pivoted, eyes narrowed. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You always charge Hiccup a gold coin for a loaf of bread?”

Halvard nodded, his face questioning his answer. “Well, yes.”

Astrid snatched the bread from Hiccup’s hands and wielded at Halvard as if she were challenging him to a fight. “I know for a fact that you charge everyone else on Berk one silver piece for a loaf.” She advanced a danger step. “You charge the son of the Chief more because you know you can take advantage of him, don’t you?”

She could feel Hiccup’s presence close behind her. “Astrid, there’s no need for-”

“Not now, Hiccup!”

Halvard raised his hands in defense. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll never do it again!”

Astrid leaned into Halvard’s personal space, glaring. If looks could kill or maim or just brings lots of pain. “You better not, because if I catch you taking advantage of my husband again, you’ll have to answer to my axe.”

“It’s time for us to move on!” Hiccup announced, swaying Astrid away from the vendor. He flipped Halvard a coin for the loaf, a glint of gold catching Astrid’s eye as she tried to protest.

She was seething. “Why did you still pay him with a gold coin? That man is ripping you off!”

“Astrid, it’s no big deal.” How could he react casually about this? “You took care of it. Now, Halvard will forever tremble in your presence.”

Astrid huffed as she clinched her fists, the leather lacing her fingers creaking under the pressure. There was no use arguing, especially in the middle of the market for every Viking on Berk to witness.

They continued their shopping for goods and returned home. Astrid couldn’t quite call this new setting home just yet. It felt foreign, as if she were invaded someone else’s property. But this was where she’d live out her days, or until dragon fire burned it to the ground and they had to rebuild.

She had no desire to speak to Hiccup after the incident at the market. They began preparing the supper together in silence. She wondered if Hiccup could feel her anger radiating towards him and that’s why he kept his mouth shut.

He did most of the cooking, only directing her when she stood there clueless as of what to do next. He was excruciatingly patient with her, and that calming feature of his soothed her roiling interior. Her anger slowly simmered as the stew began to boil.

Astrid set the table, pondering how such a massive presence as Stoick the Vast would fit at their little dining table. When she combed over her thoughts from before the wedding, it made Astrid scoff. She assumed there would be certain privileges that followed being the son of the Chief. After seeing their humble abode, the Chief had built as a wedding present, it was clear they weren’t going to live it up in luxury. If Astrid was honest with herself, she was perfectly fine living in their quint hut. Respect was more important to her than fancy things.

Just the thought of that vendor at the market began to boil her blood again. Did Hiccup know all along Halvard was taking advantage of him? How many other vendors were doing the same? They couldn’t afford to spend extra money like that. Not with the allotment Hiccup earned working as Gobber’s second hand. They could always look toward her father-in-law if they ever fell into a bind, but Astrid felt her pride rise at the very idea. No, they were husband and wife. They could make it on their own. Now, all she needed was Hiccup on board the independence ship.

A knock at the door announced the Chief had arrived. The evening whirled by as Stoick made himself at home. Astrid felt out of place as if she were stepping into her mother’s boots as she offered the Chief a drink and served the men (well, one man, one boy, in her mind).

There was one word to describe being the domestic housewife: absurd. She’d never had to worry with such things; her mother taking care of it all with eagerness and pleasant smile. Whenever her and Hiccup ate, he served her (unless she were going back for seconds then she’d get it herself). When Astrid stole a glance at him as she delivered the bowls of stew and rye bread to the table, she noticed Hiccup’s fingers twitching and he had to rub his thumb on a spoon’s scoop to ease the restlessness.

With all the food items and drinks served, Astrid sat opposite her husband with Stoick between them. There was idle talk about how married life was treating them. It wasn’t until Stoick brought up a subject that made both of them nearly choke on their stew.

“Any grandchildren in the making?”

Astrid’s throat burned as the stew ran down her windpipe in the most painful way. Across from her, Hiccup’s face was as red as the beets from Farmer Auck’s vegetable patch.

“Dad,” Hiccup chided after recovering, though his cheeks remained flames, “we just got married a week ago. Don’t rush anything.”

“It was worth a shot,” Stoick chuckled hardily.

The very thought of having a baby cradled in her arms unnerved Astrid. The idea hadn’t even occurred to her over the last two months since this arrangement had been dropped on their heads. A bitter taste ran down her throat. She wasn’t ready to consummate their marriage, much less bear children! She pushed her half-eaten stew away and sat back with arms crossed over her chest.

“That was a delicious supper,” Stoick complimented as he pushed away from the table with a loud screech of the chair. He patted his wide belly. “Thank you, Astrid, for being a good host. I know my son will be well taken care of.” He leaned closer to her with a twinkle in his eye and whispered, “And maybe he’ll gain a few pounds in the coming months.”

Heat flushed her cheeks. She didn’t feel right for taking credit where credit wasn’t due. “But Chief, I didn’t cook-“

“Isn’t she a great cook, Dad?” Hiccup spoke up over her. She snapped her head, eyes boring into him. But Hiccup continued with ease, “I’m a lucky guy to have Astrid for my wife.”

“That you are, son!” Stoick slapped Hiccup on the back, sending the poor boy bumping into the table.

The Chief bid them a goodnight. Finally alone, Astrid could release all her pent up emotions.

“Why did you let Stoick on that I cooked this meal?” She flung an arm out toward the pot still warming over the fire. She wasn’t sure why his little lie made her mad. Maybe it was all her frustration from the day coming to a boiling point.

Hiccup’s green eyes were suddenly hooded by a deep-rooted wound. “Because I don’t want him thinking of you the way he thinks of me. A screw-up. An oddball. Useless.”

Astrid was left standing there, arm half hanging in the air. She’d never witnessed Hiccup’s demeanor change in a snap. His words stabbed into her chest, cutting straight through her anger and leaving an ache she never knew she’d achieve from Hiccup Haddock.

[hennessystevens-udaku]

KING ME

After her night with Charlie, Hennessy was even more intrigued about sexual dominance. She yearned for Erik to look at her the way he looked at Charlie when she was in control. That level of raw passion and reverence being something that she craved the most, partly due to her tumultuous childhood. Though she knew some of what the dynamics were in traditional dom/sub relationships, her eager mind yearned for more knowledge. She began spending more and more time away from the group, researching and educating herself on what it meant to be a proper dom and all of the things that she could do to ensure the safety and satisfaction of her sub. When she wasn’t buried in her MacBook or her iPhone, she was with Charlie, absorbing everything she had to give. Confident that she was ready to experiment on her own, she began planning a scene tailored specifically to showing her appreciation to a certain curvaceous King.

--

The family vacation in Amsterdam was nearing its end. On the second to last day, Hennessy decided to plan a day of bonding with her husband and sister wives. Appeasing to her husband’s art hoe nature, she booked a private tour of the Van Gogh art museum as well as lunch along the UNESCO waterways. After lunch, they enjoyed another private tour of the Rijksmuseum, which houses the works of Rembrandt, Van Dyke, and Vermeer. The tiny genius sure knew how to put a smile on his face. So much so that he’d almost forgotten that he owed her a punishment for the stunt she pulled with Charlie the nights before. Almost.

--

After a day of sightseeing and art hoeing, the ladies decided to venture to the infamous XtraCold Icebar for a night of drinking and letting loose, no Erik in sight.

“A bar? Made of Ice? Who said I wanted to be serving up frosted pussy to my husband?” Bastion complained.

“Not frosted pussy,” Ryley snickered.

The outburst made Hennessy laugh. The icebar had been on her list of places to visit as soon as Erik mentioned Amsterdam. That and the cannabis tour of course.

“Our husband,” Aly’Sha corrected, rolling her eyes in annoyance.

“Hey, chill out Bast,” Angel joked, causing the entire room to erupt with laughter at the horrible pun. “It’ll be fun,” she chimed, already making her way to the bar.

“I wonder if I could break a chunk of this and make an ice dildo,” Josephine joked causing everyone to groan.

“Now that's frosted pussy,” Charlie grinned.

As the night went on and the drinks began to flow, Hennessy couldn’t stop the desire building within her. She watched the way Charlie’s full hips swayed to the music and secretly wished that they’d taken Erik up on his offer to stay in. The night in Erik’s room played on a constant loop in her mind and the more she looked at her wife, the more she wanted to show her just how much she’d learned in their short time together.

--

4 hours and 6 Amsterdamned drinks later, Hennessy was a dangerous combination of intoxicated and horny. Erik had already retired to his room for the evening, Angel and Bast in tow, and although Hennessy loved a good orgy, she wasn’t exactly in a sharing mood. She stumbled down the hallway of the aparthotel until she stopped outside of Charlie’s room. She could hear Kimora’s loud giggle from the other side of the door and almost turned to retire to her own room when she spotted Josephine in the hallway looking suspicious.

“Something wrong, Mama?” Josephine asked, sensing Hennessy’s troubled state.

“You’re a witch, right? Y’all should be able to pick up on this type of shit,” Hennessy snapped.

Josephine tilted her head in confusion. She always knew the first lady could be a bit feisty, but she’d never seen it to this degree.

“Ooh someone’s spicy,” Josephine teased, her eyes glowing her signature purple glow. Her voice was low and seductive as she began working her magic.

“Kitana wants to come out to play, Hennessy. Why don’t you let her?”

With that, Josephine was gone and Hennessy was in the hallway alone yet again. Only this time, something felt different.

--

“Someone's at the door,” Kimora whispered, her eyes on the entrance. Charlie shrugged, wasted off of her two drinks. She hardly ever drank and when she did it made her very talkative. Drunk Charlie had the tendency to say things Sober Charlie usually kept to herself. The liquor also made her hornier than she already was on the daily as a typical stellium scorpio. Her almond eyes roamed Kimora's chocolate curves and her mouth watered at the thought of a sweet pink cotton candy center. Although distracted, she'd heard the noise in the hall too.

“Probably Josephine. What scent is that? You smell good as hell like, honeysuckles,” she flirted unwilling to move her eyes from Kimora's rich and perfect skin. It made no sense to look that good, she needed the skin routine. Just then the door opened and Kimora grinned, her teeth a bright white. Erik obviously had a thing for nice teeth. All his wives had them. Henny's voice sounded causing Charlie to turn.

“Oh damn, Henny from the block. You came to fuck or be fucked lil mama? Or did you wanna talk? Can we talk and fuck?” Charlie had to tell herself to calm down. She was doing way too much. “My bad, Henny, what's up?”

“Hiii Hennessy,” Kimora’s sweet voice called to the tiny woman standing in the doorway.

“Hey ladies,” Hennessy called out, slowly making her way into the space. Thanks to Josephine, her current look was much different from what she wore to the Icebar. Her curly mane had been released from her signature high puff, framing her chubby face and the emerald green bodycon dress hugged her curves in all the right places.

“Ladiesss,” Charlie dragged willing Henny nearer. She was a sweet faced gazelle and Charlie couldn’t help but eye her curves like a hungry predator of the wild. Her sweet tooth was acting up something serious. “Honestly, I think I might be lit right now.. I think, but I still wouldn't mind a shot of Hennessy if you feel me,” she grinned, a quarter joking and ¾ serious.

Hennessy giggled in response. Charlie had the same longing look in her eyes that Erik got after he returned from a mission. She stalked up to Charlie, the confidence of her alter ego guiding her steps. She reached out to grab a fistful of Charlie’s hair, lifting her head so that they were staring into each other’s eyes.

“If Charlie wants a taste of Hennessy, she’s gonna have to work for it,” Henny growled with a smile, her rose gold fronts dancing in the light of Charlie’s bedroom.

“Tell me what to do Miss. Call me cat daddy and watch me go to work like it's my 9 to 5.” Charlie was feeling the dominant energy Hennessy put forth and she wanted more of it. She wanted Henny to own her title and put her in her place. Never had she been dommed by a woman and it was a past due experience.

---

The sexual tension in the room was at an all-time high. Hennessy and Charlie eyed each other hungrily while Kimora sat on the bed watching the show.

“I just want my pussy ate,” she finally spoke up, obviously aroused by the apparent power struggle going on in front of her.

Henny looked over to Charlie, one eyebrow raised challengingly.

“You heard the woman, Charlie. You wanted some cotton candy and there it is being offered to you on a silver platter.”

“Wait, I said that out loud? Dammit Charlie!” Charlie faced Kimora who'd changed positions, her legs wide and inviting anyone to come forth. It was all the instruction Charlie needed before diving into Kimora’s slickness. Like a seasoned veteran, she feasted on the sweet nectar like it was her life source, Kimora’s voice rising in octaves as the waves of pleasure crashed around her. To ease the growing pleasure building in her own hobbit hole, Charlie reached a hand down to stroke her throbbing clit. A sharp smack to her plump ass by a riding crop stopped her ministrations.

“When the fuck did she get that?” she wondered silently.

“Did I tell you to touch my pussy, Charlie Jade?” Hennessy questioned, slowly stripping out of her bodycon dress.

“No.. but I'm a touch it,” Charlie tested, returning her hand to her pulsing clit. She wanted that discipline. For a minute she thought that her husband had entered the room, this level of dominance being something completely foreign coming from the tiny woman. Another sharp smack whipped across her backside causing her to drop her hand.

“I said move ya damn hand. Don’t make me say it again, Jade.”

Charlie gushed at Henny’s words, a slick smile on her face.

--

The sounds of sex pulled Josephine and Ryley from their slumber. A glance at the nearby clock revealed the time, 3:45 am. Kimora had promised to be back from Charlie’s room no later than 1:30 so that Josephine could teach them both how to effectively hide their side niggas from Erik.

The pair made their way down the hall, stopping as the moans seemed to intensify outside of Charlie’s room.

“Damn, I thought Erik would’ve been too busy with Angel and Bast to deal with anyone else,” Ryley stated.

“That moisturized, ashy ass nigga always ready to kill some pussy,” Josephine replied.

“Ahh, fuck! Charliiieeee!”

Ryley and Josephine’s heads snapped up in unison.

“I know damn well..” Ryley’s voice trailed off.

Using her powers, Josephine was able to unlock and open the door ever so slightly, giving her and Ryley front row seats to the show.

--

“Eat that shit Charlie!” Hennessy barked, both hands twisted in Charlie's thick coils. Charlie felt like she’d reached Nirvana. The way Kimora sang her name coupled with the way Hennessy was commanding her had brought her to completion twice already and she hadn’t even been touched. It was all so new.

Josephine and Ryley watched from the door, mouths gaping. They’d never seen Hennessy in such a way and Josephine smugly patted herself on the back at how well her spell was working.

“Charliiieeeee!” Kimora screamed a final time, her orgasm hitting her like a brick. The only other person that had eaten her out that well was her husband. Charlie looked up to Hennessy, eager for her next set of instructions. Hennessy stood at the foot of Charlie’s bed, proudly sporting a 9 in. strap-on that she had made in the image of her husband’s member. Charlie and Kimora both stared at it hungrily.

“Kimora, come ride this dick. Charlie, on my face,” Henny commanded as she lay prostrate on the bed. After both women assumed their respective positions, Hennessy went to work on Charlie’s throbbing bulb. As Kimora bounced on her lap, Charlie’s thick thighs threatened to swallow her whole. She rolled her hips in tune with Henny’s licks to her hobbit hole and brought herself to completion for a third time tonight.

---

“The fuck going on in here?” Aly’Sha asked, sleepily rubbing her eyes. Kimora and Charlie’s loud moans had disturbed her rest and she was all too prepared to give the women a piece of her mind until she saw Ryley and Josephine outside of the door.

“See for yourself,” Josephine encouraged, stepping to the side to give Aly’Sha a view. Her eyes widened as she watched the live action porn scene before her.

“What did you do to her?” Aly’Sha asked as she watched Hennessy dominate her sister wives.

“She may or may not be possessed by De Strength of de Oakland Neega,” Josephine teased.

--

The spell had long since worn off, but Hennessy’s sex drive was still going. Hennessy was high off power as both women turned into moaning messes under her ministrations. Both Kimora and Charlie’s legs shook as their umteenth orgasms crashed over them.

“H-Henny.. Please,” Kimora whined. She was never one to tap out during sex, but her body honestly couldn’t take another second of the assault that was being delivered to her core. Hennessy looked up from her position between her thighs and smiled, rose gold fronts once again catching the light of the room.

“Again,” was the only word she spoke as she lapped at the sweet nectar between her wife’s legs. It was at this moment that Charlie realized that she’d created a monster. King Hennessy indeed.

TAG LIST: @vibranium-soul @imagine-mbaku @mareethequeen @greennightspider @eriknutinthispoosy @hearteyes-for-killmonger @blackpantherismyish @muse-of-mbaku @shesfromwakanda @thehomierobbstark @wifeyofnjadaka @youreadthatright @tgigoldie @killmongersgurl @dameshaemonique @princessstevens @princesskillmonger @thickoreo @amethyst1993 @iamrheaspeaks @laketaj24 @bidibidibombaclaat @allhailnjadaka @whatmoredoyouwantamericaa @forbeautyandlife @yaachtynoboat711 @panthergoddessbast @inlovewithmakeupcomicsanimelove @dacreskars @thadelightfulone @drsunshine97 @wakanda-inspired @wawakanda-btch @hold-me-like-a-heart-beat @ayellepea @awkwardlyabstract @madamslayyy @blowmymbackout @vikkidc

THE HOUSEHOLD: @alyshastevens-udaku @wyldjuan @itsangeludaku @thehomiekillmonger @lovemecharlie @itskimorafireudaku @poosypoosy @bastioncarterstevens-udaku

[airis-paris14]

Kings Trip Ch. 10

A/N So I’m only 36 hours late. But I hope y’all enjoy anyway. I had fun trying to right for Erik. Let me know how I did. This series has been amazing and I hope to continue being apart of collaborations in the future. Love all of you all!

Chapter 1 ( @sisterwifeudaku )| Chapter 2 ( @blackandfair )| Chapter 3 ( @royallyprincesslilly )| Chapter 4 ( @eerythingisshaka)| Chapter 5 ( @katasstrophey )| Chapter 6 ( @blublubleu )| Chapter 7 ( @dramaqueenamby )| Chapter 8 ( @kumkaniudaku ) | Chapter 9 ( @muse-of-mbaku)|

Next writer up is..... @mbakusthrone

Now where both of y’all niggas going?” Erik frowned as the two put the last finish in touches on their outfits. “I thought we could try to hit up the strip club again. Now that Nakia is gone.” He suggested.

“I’m going to see Max.” T’Challa replied,double checking the way his shirt fell open just below his jacket. “I have got a date with Muse.” M'Baku shrugged. “Wait. This nigga just got out of a one sided relationship,” the prince pointed at the king. “And yo barking ass just saw the same woman this morning. And y’all both pussywhipped niggas in less than 24 hours.” The prince slumped onto the couch observing the two men gather in their things to leave.

“Maybe you could go to this strip club, by yourself?” M’Baku shrugged. “Nigga. Y’all forgot why we here? It’s a Kings trip!”

“Well I only see two kings in the room right now,” M’Baku remarked. “If yo gorilla looking ass make one more smart assed remark,” Erik fumed. “Hey,Hey!” T’Challa held his cousin back. “This is why we are on this trip in the first place. We are here to bond. And Erik is right. We should be doing more together. So let’s compromise. Mbaku and I go out tonight. Then, everyone has to choose a group activity. Starting with the strip club.” T’Challa offered.

Erik huffed his assent and shrugged out of his cousins hold. M’Baku also nodded begrudgingly as he rose from the couch. “Good. N’Jadaka, we will be back later. Try to get out of the hotel.” The Wakandan king suggested.

The African prince trudged into the kitchen. Sighing he glanced at the fridge before noticing a small flyer taped to the door with a note, scrawled in T’Challa’s hand. Some of the students from the outreach center are participating in a poetry slam tonight. From what I have heard of this competition, I thought you might like to go. -T.

Erik unfolded the flyer from behind the handwritten note and glanced over the paper in his hand.

Monthly open mic featuring the Oakland Team

Admission is $5 to support the team’s journey to Brave New Voices. 6:30 @ Frenchie’s Bar and Grill.

“So little niggas think they got game? A’ight. I respect that.” Erik chuckled as he slipped the flyer into his pocket. He grabbed his keys and his wallet and jogged out the door.

The small restaurant was packed full of friends in family. Applause drifted out in to the night air as a poet walked off the stage.The young prince took a seat at the back of the small restaurant as you woman walked up to the stage. Thank you, Thank you all for joining us tonight!” the black woman beamed as her ankara print skirt swished around her ankles. “Thank you to the lovely Danielle for opening as our sacrificial poet tonight. Now I know this is not our usual venue, but the school auditorium is finally undergoing some much needed repairs. Thanks to the Wakandan Outreach center. So Tina and her team here at Frenchie’s has graciously opened their doors up to us for the time being and for that we are all grateful.” The M.C. took a moment to pause and begin a round of applause . The slight swell of her lips as she spoke into the microphone drew Erik’s attention as she continued. “Now we have just a few ground rules for tonight’s performances. This is an open space, where youth feel free to share their experiences. So we ask that you respect everyone and their experience. There is no right or wrong way to express oneself, unless it harms others.”

The prince’s eyes were drawn to her hands as the gestured wildly, making every movement she completed capture the full attention of her audience. Her smile almost blinded the prince as his ears fell back into focus. “And our last rule is to have fun and enjoy yourselves and the immense talent that these children have. With that, our first poet of the night is Deshawn. Please give him a warm round of applause as he makes his way to the stage.” The woman’s skirt swished around her as she moved towards the back of the room.

Erik followed her with his eyes before moving to stand next to her. She glanced up once before her eyes returned to the child on the stage. “Erik,” the prince whispered extending a hand. “Ah, the local rags to riches story. Oni, the kids call me Ms.O.” The black woman’s smile gleamed from behind her brown lips.

“You know who I am?” He smirked. “Who in Oakland hasn’t heard of you. Local kid, graduated with honors. Went to MIT, top of your class. When off and became a top military agent. Then more recently, a crown prince of Wakanda. In line for the throne hypothetically. You’re every little Oakland boy’s dream.” The woman shrugged, glancing down at her list as the young poet began to close.

“You don’t seem impressed,” Erik smirked. “As far as I’m concerned. You still just another nigga from the block.” Oni smirked.

Erik’s grin stretched miles wide as she went back on to stage. The young poets came and went as the night went on.

How’s the show? T’Challa’s message buzzed on his wrist. It’s dope. Thanks for letting me know.

No problem. Enjoy.😊T’Challa’s response was instantaneous. Nigga, don’t ever use that emoji again. Erik replied.

Why not? I am just displaying my appreciation.

“This nigga,” Erik muttered as his attention fluttered back to the end of the show. “Thank you all for coming. We host weekly workshops and performance opportunities. So join us every Tuesday at the community center. Get home safely and remember. You. Are. Loved. Goodnight!” Oni’s voice rang out over the studio as people began to filter out.

A few kids hung behind to talk to Oni before heading out themselves. Erik waited patiently as the last of the kids left. He startled the brown skinned woman as he placed a chair on the table beside her. “So you’re a ‘you can take the man out of Oakland, but you can’t take Oakland out of the man’ type of woman?”

“I guess you could say that,” the poet grinned while moving to another table. “What if I said I could show you more than you can imagine?” Erik offered. “I’d say, I don’t walk around alone with strangers.”

“What if I don’t want to be a stranger?” The Wakandan prince stopped moving. Oni took a deep breath, ignoring his suggestions. “I’ve really got to get home your highness.” she joked moving to grab her things. Oni walked around double checking lights as she called out a goodbye to The kitchen crew. “Ok, it’s late. How you gettin’ home?” Erik insisted. “I’m just gonna call an lyft or something. I’ll figure it out” the blackwoman shrugged as she strolled towards the front door.

“Let me figure it out for you. I’ll take you home,” he offered jingling his car keys as the vibranium car glowed. “Just because you got a fancy car, that probably cost more money than i’ll ever see in my lifetime, dont mean im gonna let you drive me home. You still just another nigga from the block.” the woman sassed opening the lyft app. “Look, tell you what. I’ll have my guard ride with us.” he offered.

“Why, so there can be two men in the car?” the woman deadpanned. “Hard pass.”

“Look ma. How much do you actually know about Wakanda?” the prince grabbed the phone from her grasp. “Negro give me my phone!” Oni hissed. “Just answer the question and I’ll give you the phone.” Erik bartered. “Ok, All I know is y’all rich and black.Now give me the phone!” Oni fumed as Erik held the phone above him where she couldn’t reach it.

“Erik!”

“I like the way my name sounds on yo lips ma.” the prince grinned. “Say it again.” Oni bit back a grin as she pouted. “Just give me the phone please.” Erik laughed, “You gotta say my name for it princess.” Oni sighed, “Just give me the phone Erik, please.”

Erik play moaned as he pulled the phone back into reach. Oni punched his shoulder as she closed the app for now. “Let me show you something different ok? Look, I’ll have Ayo come down here and if you still feel uncomfortable with her then I’ll have a car come take you home. Ok?” Oni sighed reluctantly as Erik called for Ayo.

“Your guard is a woman?” The woman questioned as Ayo appeared from around the corner. “Yeah the royal family’s personal guards are all female in Wakanda. Dora Milaje, the most elite group of warriors in Wakanda.” Erik explained. “More elite than the men?” Oni inquired. “Yeah, they can whoop your ass in a heartbeat.” Erik only half joked as Ayo approached. “Sikhulu wam,” Ayo saluted. “ Ayo, Oni here is worried about riding home with me alone in the car. I was wondering if you would ride with us to calm her nerves,’ Erik explained in his overly clear voice. “njengoko kufanele abe,” Ayo nodded. “As you should be,” the woman flawlessly translated.

“She’s kidding,” Erik reassured as he lead the way to the car.

Once everyone was settled into the car, Erik pulled off down the street, in the wrong direction. “Negro, my apartment is the other direction.”

“I know, we’ll make it there,eventually.” Erik grinned. “Eventually?” Oni shot up. “Chill ma. I just wanna get to know you. Since you know so much about me.” Erik clarified. “What’s there to know about me? The kids are my life. Parents died when I was younger. My aunt who raised me was killed in a drive by last year.” Oni shrugged.

“Damn, I’m sorry O.” Erik frowned as he pulled onto another street. “How much money the kids need to raise for that voices thing?” Erik asked once the traffic light hit green. “Huh?” Oni fell out of her day dream. “The flyer? It said yall we charging admission so the kids could compete later this year. “Oh yeah. It’s a national and international poetry slam. We’ve got a really good group of kids this year. But you know, parents trying to make ends meet, doesn’t usually mean they can spare money for a hotel rooms and meals. We like to give the kids some spending money too. It’s not often they get to get out of this community. We like to reward them, for staying out of trouble. It’s hard when trouble stares at you from every corner, ya know?”

Erik pulled to a stop in front of Oni’s apartment building. “Let me walk you up,” Erik hopped out of the car and opened the door for the woman. They walked in silence up the stairs together. “Can I see you again soon?” Oni finally broke the silence when they stopped in front of her door.

Erik grinned “Ah, you want to see me again?” Oni let a matching grin slide over her face. “Don’t get cocky nigga.” Oni laughed, “You are different Erik.” she conceded with a smile on her face. “You’ve got no idea ma.” Erik grinned as he pulled the woman into a hug.

“I guess i better go,” Oni gestured to her door. “Yeah. Good night,” Erik pouted. “I’ll see you soon, the woman smiled sadly, pushing open her door. “See you soon,” Erik saluted as he walked backwards down the hall. He waited till he heard her deadbolt click before he walked back out to the car.

He settled into the car, where Ayo was smiling from the back seat. “I like her,” the warrior grinned through the rear view mirror. “I feel like a having a burger, You want one A?” Erik ignored her comment as he pulled off. But his smile said it all.

Tags:

@blackandfair @blublubleu @katasstrophey @mbakusthrone @njadont @k-michaelis @wakandanmoonchild @idilly @texasbama @afraiddreamingandloving @ixan-ity @daytimeheroicsonly @onyour-right @brianabreeze @sisterwifeudaku @ironsquad @killmongerdispussy @90sinspiredgirl @willowtree77785901 @maynardqueen101 @heyauntieeee @halfrican-heat @purple-apricots @lalapalooza718 @blue-ishx @profilia @ljstraightnochaser @girl-wtf-lmao @dramaqueenamby @royallyprincesslilly @melaninmarvel @thiccdaddy-mbaku @lavitabella87 @purplehairgawdess @unholyxcumbucket @uhlxis @oshasimone @maliadestiny @drsunshine97 @cozyshack2 @zxddy-panther @queentearra @skysynclair19 @retro-melanin @mermaidchansons @misspooh @melanisticroyalty @babygirlofwakanda @wakanda-4evr

[dearophelia]

gonna set your flag on fire (chapter 1)

Thirty years after the war, things are as close to normal as they’ll get. Garrus is the turian councilor and Olivia runs Galactic Affairs, helping the galaxy rebuild. They’ve happily settled into the life they’ve built. Their kids are grown, and out living their own lives.But something goes wrong on Nora’s latest mission. Very wrong.

chapter 01: upside down with a perfect view

(read on AO3)

or, guess who’s finally posting norafic, y’all! I’ve only been talking about this for like three years. My eternal gratitude to @nightingaleseeking and @tarysande for cheerleading this project along, you two are angels.

Note that there is a warning for eventual mindfuckery. And, as per usual, a flagrant disregard for canon.

Later, when it’s all over and Nora’s sitting on the back porch of her grandmother’s house watching the sun rise over the lake, she’ll think she should’ve told James she’d take the eezo job.

She’ll sip at her tea, tug the blanket tighter around her shoulders while the cat weaves his way around her legs, and replay that conversation with James a thousand times. The sky will turn from dusky grey to purple to warm oranges and pinks, and she’ll wish she’d accepted his offer – he gave her an out, and she ignored it.

She should’ve taken the eezo job. Instead, she took the Cerberus mission.

Hindsight.

***

7 September 2191 - 23 years earlier

Olivia scrubs a hand over her face as the elevator makes its slow descent to deck three. Eight years since the end of the war, four since they cobbled enough of the relay system back together that the galaxy could begin to function again, and it still feels like they’re fighting: reaper cults keep growing even though they’ve long since found a cure for indoctrination, there’s always an alliance-ending diplomatic crisis somewhere, and they’ve been playing whack-a-mole with stray Cerberus cells for years. It’s nice not to have to dodge banshees and brutes, or worry about the imminent end of the universe, but there are days she would like the galaxy to take care of its own bullshit for an hour so she can take a nap.

This is one of those days. She started out mediating the third day of an argument between Wrex and one of the new dalatrasses about blueprints salarian architects drew up for the Tuchanka rebuilding effort, she ate half her lunch while on a vidcall with Liara listening to intel on banshee worshippers out on the Far Rim (as far as she knows, the other half is still in her office), and spent the next two hours holed up in the AI Core reading a stack of reports while avoiding Cortez and the embedded reporter who won’t leave either of them alone.

She misses Allers.

Their stop at Tereshkova was only long enough to refuel and pick up Abby Williams and whatever recon she found on her latest mission. Olivia loves the Normandy, even more in its third incarnation, but she’s glad she isn’t her captain anymore. Four days back to the Citadel, and then she’s home - at least until the next time the Council decides she’s needed for face-to-face diplomacy. She has three messages from Garrus on her omnitool, and hasn’t had a chance to check them all day.

The elevator doors open and she nods at Ashley, waiting for her.

“It’s a kid,” Ashley says, uncrossing her arms as they fall into step with each other.

“What?”

“The data Abby picked up – it’s a kid. A girl. She was the only one left alive.”

Olivia stops and turns to Ashley. “This is your ship now, but you seriously let a kid from a Cerberus station on board?”

Ashley nods. “It’s not like we didn’t take any precautions.” She points.

The usually-occupied mess area is empty of barely-awake lieutenants and hungry sergeants, replaced instead by a contingent of marines, armed and standing at the ready; four more stand guard inside the medbay. Olivia looks through the medbay windows and sees a small girl sitting inside a sealed glass container set on one of the exam tables. Mass effect field generators clamped to the container’s corners glow faintly blue, and she recognizes the symbol painted on its sides: the container will withstand a ten-ton thermonuclear explosion inside of it. “Fair enough,” she says.

Abby steps out of the medbay. As tall as her older sister, she’s leaner, built for speed instead of Ashley’s muscle. She’s still in her lithe armor, with her sword still strapped to her back. “Captain,” she salutes Olivia, “Commander,” she turns to Ashley.

“At ease, Lieutenant,” Ashley says. “What’s going on?”

Abby exhales heavily. “We got some intel about a Cerberus station orbiting Rayingiri. I went in –”

“Alone?” Ashley asks, ever the older sister.

Silently, Abby points to the N7 on her chest and the two crossed swords beneath it, identifying her Shadow designation. “I went in, just to get recon; Liselle and Rosie were on their way to back me up for the attack. I guess the op was blown somehow: everyone on that station was dead before I got there – suicide. They all had their heads half blown off from that capsule thing in their teeth.”

Olivia grimaces. She’s seen no shortage of grisly scenes, but that’s particularly nasty. “What about the girl?”

“Rosie hacked the station records. Her name’s Nora Milton, three and a half. Father died last year in that raid in the Hades Nexus, mother was an engineer on the station, working on a Cerberus project code named Damocles.”

Olivia’s attention shifts back to the girl in the glass box. She’s tucked herself up into the back corner, as far away from the guards and Doctor Chakwas as she can get, hugging her knees to her chest. “And Damocles is?”

Abby shrugs and shakes her head. “No idea. They wiped most of their servers. All we got was a crew manifest, shipping logs, and some low-security email. Nothing that flagged Alliance intelligence when we ran it past them.”

“Send it to me,” Olivia says. “I know people who may be able to do more with it.” Liara’s had her own troubles getting anything out of the remaining Cerberus cells, but she may have more luck than the Alliance.

Abby nods. “Sure.”

“Thanks, Abby,” Ashley says. She lightly squeezes her sister’s arm before heading toward the medbay doors. She gestures for Olivia to go first.

Doctor Chakwas looks up at the whoosh of the doors and waves the two women over. Olivia pauses to smile at the scared girl, but none of them trust Cerberus not to use a three-year-old girl as a bomb.

“Physically,” Chakwas says as she pulls up a series of scans on her monitor, “she’s mostly normal. Probably dehydrated and a little malnourished, I’ll know more once we get a blood test, but she looks like a perfectly healthy three-year-old human.”

“I hear a but coming,” Ashley says. Olivia nods in agreement.

“And correctly so.” Chakwas taps on the display and it zooms in on the girl’s brain. She points at a tiny square in the middle. “She has a microchip implanted near her cerebrum.”

Olivia’s eyes narrow. “I think we can safely assume that’s not good.” She clenches her jaw as she flashes back to a few uncomfortable conversations with Miranda. Nora’s a toddler. “Can you get it out?”

The doctor shakes her head. “It’s deep in her brain, and she’s very young. Even with the Citadel’s surgical AIs, the risk of brain damage or death are extremely high.”

“How about turning it off?” Ashley suggests.

“EDI’s working on that,” Chakwas says. “She’s also sent the information to Tali.”

Olivia looks over her shoulder. The girl’s still curled up in her corner, but she’s watching the three of them with wide eyes. “Besides the chip,” she turns back to Chakwas, “is there anything else wrong with her? Any indication that she’s going to explode or start some sort of virus...anything?”

“I haven’t been able to check her directly while she’s in the box, but no, not that my scans have shown.”

Olivia looks at Ashley. She’d let Nora out, but the Normandy isn’t her ship anymore, and Doctor Chakwas and the guards outside aren’t her crew. “Your ship, your call.”

Ashley presses her lips together. She looks up at the display screen, to Nora, to Olivia, and back to Nora. “She’s three,” she says, “if the chip does do anything, I think we can take her.” She turns to one of the guards. “Clear the entire deck. In five minutes, we’re opening that box.” He nods and rushes out with the others. She taps her omnitool. “Vega.”

“Yeah, Boss?”

“In five minutes, Shepard and I are opening a container holding a very small child who may or may not be a Cerberus booby trap. I need you to put the ship into lockdown and get ready to quarantine the deck if necessary.”

“Uh, are you sure that’s wise?”

“No,” Ashley says. “But she’s three years old and we can’t keep her in a glass box forever.”

“Lockdown in effect,” he says as a low alarm pulses through the ship, “and Level 4 quarantine on standby.”

A quiet whimper escapes from Nora’s throat and her eyes fill with tears. Olivia taps a command into a nearby medical console, and the alarm silences inside the medbay. Nora sniffles.

“Thanks, Vega.” Ashley ends the call and looks at Olivia. “You want to take this? You’ve actually got kids.”

“They’re eight and ten and turian, Ash. My frame of reference isn’t exactly wider than yours here.” One of the messages from Garrus was a photo. Quentus had his first durak tournament today. She hopes it went well; he was so excited.

“Okay. How about – you’ve actually been a Cerberus experiment before?”

“Does Traynor know you’re this reluctant to be around kids?”

“I’m not,” Ashley says. “Except when they were the only one left alive on a station full of dead people and we’re keeping them in a box built to contain a ten-ton nuke.”

“Wimp.” Olivia grins and steps up to the box. She gives Nora her best reassuring smile.

Ashley checks her watch and, after five minutes have passed, taps her command code into the box’s control panel. It beeps, and the latch unlocks with a hiss. Slowly, and with a low mechanical hum, the top panel retracts.

Nora looks up, eyes even wider. Her lower lip starts to quiver, and she looks straight at Olivia.

“It’s okay,” she tells her, “we’re getting you out of there.”

As soon as the top fully retracts, Ashley and Olivia unlatch the front side, laying it down on the bed, leaving Nora sitting in a three-walled box.

Nora blinks once, twice, and then scrambles to the edge of the bed and wraps her arms around Olivia’s waist. She moves so fast she scrapes her arm on one of the hinges, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“Oh!” Olivia exclaims. She runs her fingers through the ends of Nora’s tangled brown curls and sets her other hand on her back. Nora presses her face into her stomach. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she whispers.

The entire medbay holds its breath.

“So,” Ashley says after ten minutes have passed without incident. “Not a bomb.”

Olivia shakes her head. Nora hasn’t let go, and so neither has she. “Not a bomb.”

“Any sign of contagion?” Ashley asks Chakwas.

“None.”

Ashley exhales. “It’s nice to be wrong sometimes.”

While Ashley calls Vega and tells him to lift the lockdown and take his finger off the quarantine trigger, Olivia looks down at the small girl still hugging her tight. A thin trail of blood trickles down Nora’s arm from the scrape. Olivia gestures for Chakwas to come over and check her out.

“Can I have your arm, please?” Chakwas asks.

Nora shakes her head and hugs even tighter.

“Nora,” Olivia says quietly, “I need you to let go so the doctor can look at you.” Again, Nora shakes her head. “I’ll be right here. You can sit on my lap.”

After a moment, Nora loosens her arms, but doesn’t let go. Olivia shifts and lifts Nora up, settling her on her hip as she carries her over to another exam table – one without the bomb-proof box on it. She sits Nora on the table and then hops up and crosses her legs underneath her. “Come here,” she says, and Nora scrambles into her lap. Nora settles, pressing her back into Olivia’s chest, and Olivia rests her arms around Nora’s waist.

Chakwas scans the scrape, and then runs a dermal regenerator over her arm. “There we go,” she says.

Nora whimpers, but otherwise doesn’t make a sound.

***

By the time she finally gets to call Garrus, it’s well past two in the morning at home on the Citadel. She at least had a chance to read his messages at dinner: a good morning smiley face, an update on the batarian trade agreement discussions (going about as terribly as she anticipated), Nico’s report card was all top marks, Quentus and his team won and will advance to the next round (sent with a picture of her eldest, pointing at the scoreboard and grinning proudly), and a final message asking if she was okay. She sent him a quick response – crazy day, will call, probably late – thankful for autocorrect, as Nora kept trying to grab her arm and put it back around her.

Nora’s sound asleep in the bed. She was quiet – almost happy – throughout the entire day, through a lengthy round of medical tests, through a half bath/half shower that had Olivia, Abby, and most of the women’s bathroom soaked by the end, and quiet even through Olivia combing out her hair. But the minute Olivia tried to settle her in for the night, tucked in amongst a pile of pillows on a bed in the medbay, Nora started crying. Tears turned to screams when Olivia stepped away and turned off the light.

Olivia took some spare blankets and pillows from the crew quarters, settled Nora into her bed, and made a makeshift bed for herself on the couch. She’s left the door unlocked, a concession to everyone’s paranoia, in case anything happens in the middle of the night and the two guards standing outside need to storm in.

“I wonder why she imprinted on you so hard,” Garrus says, after she’s told him everything.

Though she’s exhausted, Olivia manages a smirk for her husband. “Oh, come on. I’m totally lovable.”

“You are,” his mandibles flutter, “but that’s not what I meant, Shepard.”

Olivia sighs and rests her head in her hands. “I know Cerberus isn’t known for their humanitarianism, but she’s so little, Garrus. Who the hell puts a control chip inside a three-year-old?” The why of it gnaws at her even more.

“Olivia,” he says gently, in a similar voice to the one he uses with their boys when they have a nightmare.

She inhales and looks up. “I’m fine,” she says, though by his lifted brow plate she can tell he doesn’t believe her. She pushes her hair out of her face. “EDI and Tali think they have a way to turn off the chip, so we’re going to try that in the morning. How are the boys?” She wanted to talk to them before they went to bed tonight. She misses them.

“Nico made me promise to actually show you his grades,” Garrus taps on his omnitool, and hers lights up with a new message and an image attachment, “and Quentus scored two goals today.”

Her omnitool lights up again, this time with a video attachment. She opens the picture while the video downloads, and smiles. Nico struggles to make friends in school, but he doesn’t struggle with the academics at all; even at eight, he’s so proud of his grades. She presses play on the video, keeping the volume quiet, and watches proudly as Quentus makes two goals in a row.

“I wanted to be there,” she says wistfully.

“He knows,” Garrus assures her. “And he also knows that sometimes Uncle Wrex needs you in the room to keep him from eating someone.”

“Still,” she sighs. She’s missed games before, they both have, but it was his first tournament. Hopefully his team will stay in after the next round, and she’ll get to see him play when she’s back home.

“Are you on schedule to be home next week?”

“Yes,” she nods. “And if Wrex and the dalatrass haven’t sorted out their differences by then, they can bite me.”

“The ship’s still in one piece after three days. You may not have them drinking tea together, but they’ll come to an agreement.”

“Okay, now I’m just thinking about Wrex with a teacup,” she laughs quietly.

His mandibles flick open in a grin. “Good. Get some sleep, Liv.”

“You too. I’ll call you tomorrow, hopefully a little earlier.”

“Alright. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She ends the vidcall and her monitor goes dark, leaving the room lit only by stars outside and faint light coming around the half-shut door of the bathroom.

Nora shifts and makes a quiet sleepy huff as her feet gently kick at the blankets.

“I hope this works tomorrow,” Olivia whispers to herself.

***

“Ah, Shepard?” Chakwas says, as EDI finishes her calculations. “You shouldn’t be standing there when they do this.”

Olivia opens her mouth to ask why, but she follows the doctor’s gaze down to her leg. Oh. It’s not that she forgets her right leg is a cybernetic prosthetic now, it’s that it hasn’t bothered her for a few days and she’s had other things on her mind. “Right.” From what she understands, the EMP will be targeted toward Nora’s brain, but it’s still best not to risk it.

“We’re ready, Shepard,” Tali says from the monitor.

She looks down at Nora sitting on the exam table beside her. Nora’s kept her wide eyes on the EMP minigun since EDI set it up. She doesn’t seem scared of it, just staring at something new.

“You ready?” Olivia doubts Nora fully understands what’s about to happen, but she’s not going to give Tali the go ahead if Nora isn’t sure.

Nora looks up at her and blinks.

It’s not a no.

“I’ll be right here,” she says, and takes a few steps away out of range. She nods to Tali and EDI. “Go ahead.”

Tali taps at her controls, transmitting the code to EDI. “All yours,” she says.

EDI nods, and presses a few buttons on the side of the EMP gun. There’s a series of short beeps, and then EDI turns to Olivia and Chakwas. “It’s completed.”

Olivia raises an eyebrow. She’d expected…more. “That’s it?”

“Yes.”

She looks at Nora, who doesn’t look any different. “Did it work?”

Chakwas runs a handheld scanner over Nora’s head, and peers at the results displaying on the bedside manner. “It’s no longer emitting a signal.” She looks over her shoulder at Tali and EDI, both waiting expectantly. “It looks like it worked.”

Olivia nods slowly. “Send a message to Miranda,” she tells EDI, “have her meet us when we dock at the Citadel. It’s not that I don’t trust your work, guys, it’s –”

“That you don’t trust Cerberus wouldn’t put failsafes into place in case anyone tried what we just did,” Tali says.

“Bingo.”

“We can pretend we’re still working, if you want to avoid the dalatrass a little longer,” Tali teases.

Olivia grimaces. “It’s a miracle I haven’t gotten at least five nasty messages from her yet.” She owes Cortez an entire bar’s worth of drinks for keeping the dalatrass at bay this morning.

“Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Will do. Thanks again, Tali.”

“No problem, Shepard.” Her vidcall blinks out.

Olivia turns back to Nora, only to find Chakwas looking at her with a distinctly pointed look. “What?”

“Nora is welcome to stay. But you cannot avoid the dalatrass all day by hiding in here.”

Aware that she sounds like a petulant child, yet not caring in the least, Olivia huffs. She almost misses Linron and Isheel. Almost. “Fine.” She takes a deep breath and turns to Nora. “I’ll be back at the end of the day, okay?”

Nora just blinks.

Olivia supposes if she watched the heads of everyone she knew explode, she wouldn’t talk either. She gently tucks Nora’s hair behind her ear and smiles. “Call me if she needs anything.”

Chakwas nods. “Of course.”

But as soon as Olivia has one foot out the door, Nora sniffles and starts to cry.

Olivia stops in her tracks and walks back to Nora. She can’t avoid the negotiations – she really does need to resolve things between the dalatrass and Wrex – but it looks like she can’t leave Nora, either. Everyone will just have to deal with a small human child sitting at the negotiating table.

***

"What do you think the Alliance will do with her?" Garrus asks later that night, when she sits back down after getting Nora a glass of water and settling her back to bed.

Olivia shrugs. "Run a thousand tests on her," she surmises. "Keep her in a cage, mess with the chip, see what it does." As if Nora needs more time spent in a science lab with people poking her. Sighing heavily, she rests her head in her hands and looks at him through her fingers. "What she needs is a family, but they'll never let her go for proper adoption."

Garrus tilts his head and looks at her softly. "They might if it was us."

She raises her head, blinking at her husband. Her mind started down that same path earlier, but was blocked by a thousand different arguments: physical space, time, busy schedules, two parents wrangling three kids under ten. Their sons.

"Liv, you know they're never going to let a civilian take her. And she already seems attached to you."

Olivia bites her lip and looks away. "I don't want Quentus and Nico to think – I don't know." She's unsure how to voice that concern to him. Both boys have needed a lot from their parents, which she and Garrus have been so willing and happy to give, and she doesn't want them to feel like suddenly they're going to have less. They lost their birth parents to the war; the last thing she wants is for her sons to worry that they're not important anymore, or that she and Garrus are going to leave them too.

"I'll talk to them," he says gently. "See what they think about maybe having a little sister."

"You haven't even met her," she says, though she knows that’s not even remotely a problem. Garrus has always been kind to those important to him, and he's grown impossibly kinder since becoming a father. He's light years away, and that kindness already extends to Nora.

His mandibles flutter. "She likes you," he says. "She clearly has good judgment."

She laughs quietly, a slight heat rising to her cheeks. Almost ten years, and he can still make her blush with a simple compliment. "Dork."

Before Garrus can respond, there's a noise behind him that sounds suspiciously like two young turian boys racing each other down the stairs.

Garrus looks over his shoulder. "Incoming," he confirms.

"Is that Mom?" Nico asks, off camera still.

"Mom, I made two goals today!" Quentus shouts, followed by the scrape of a kitchen chair urgently pushed out of the way.

Olivia scrambles for her earbuds so the excitement doesn't wake up Nora. Within seconds of getting the buds connected and in her ears, Quentus and Nico have both popped their heads up into the camera in front of Garrus. They're a little too close at first and fill the screen completely, competing to take up the most space, until Garrus pushes the monitor back a bit.

"When are you coming home? I miss you."

"Dad let us have ice cream for dinner."

Garrus clears his throat and looks down at his eldest. "We weren’t going to tell her that."

Laughing softly, Olivia smiles at the three most important people in her life. "I miss you guys too," she says. "I'll be home on Friday," she promises. "How was your day?"

As their sons excitedly tell her about their days, she briefly glances over their heads at Garrus. Her eyes lock with his, and he gives her a little nod. Smiling, she focuses her attention on Quentus retelling, in very animated detail, his game-winning goal.

***

Miranda spends a long time in silence, looking at Nora’s scans.

Just when Olivia almost can’t stand the silence anymore, Miranda turns. “It’s a control chip. It’s a different model than I considered using, but it is definitely a control chip.” She steps to the side, gesturing for them to join her at the monitor. “Do you see those thin lines radiating from it?” She points on the screen and as soon as she sees what Miranda’s pointing at, Olivia wonders how she didn’t see the lines before. They’re light, but clear.

“Those are wires connecting to her memory centers. This design was still experimental when I was with Cerberus, evidently they’ve moved it into production.” Miranda looks at Chakwas. “You were correct not to operate. There hasn’t been time for her brain to grow around the chip, but it’s beginning to,” she points to faint shadows. “Given how young she is, surgery will cause permanent damage, and would likely kill her.”

"Then how did they implant it?" Chakwas asks.

Miranda glances back to the monitor. "The wires are grown post-implantation via nanotechnology. It’s likely you could surgically remove the chip itself, but the wires are the problem. Without knowing how they work, I wouldn’t recommend leaving them in there unconnected."

“Does Project Damocles ring a bell?” Olivia asks, before the two women can begin down a conversational black hole about pediatric neurosurgery neither she nor Ashley has half a hope of understanding.

Miranda shakes her head. “Unfortunately, no. Cerberus cells operated mostly independently. I only knew of a small handful of projects other than Lazarus. I’d imagine they’re even more independent now.”

"Any ideas why Cerberus might implant a control chip into a toddler?" Olivia’s been doing her best to ignore that reality, but the question has to be asked.

"Yes," Miranda says. "All of which you’ve probably thought of already, and none of them good."

Olivia shudders. She’s come up with plenty of theories, and they’re all terrifying.

“Okay, I’m just gonna ask,” Ashley says. “Is she safe? Can we let her off the ship?”

Miranda shrugs. “It’s been deactivated. Control chips work in one of two ways: either orders are transmitted directly to it, or there’s a designated controller whose voice activates the chip. Even if you hadn’t deactivated it, the likelihood of anyone knowing she’s alive to receive orders or encounter the controller are monumentally slim.”

Olivia shares a look with Ashley and Chakwas. “Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better.” She swallows. She’s long made her peace with Miranda’s confession, but that doesn’t mean it sits well.

“Well, it’s off,” Miranda says. “It doesn’t matter either way.”

“Her brain is still very young. Surgery isn’t a viable solution, and the chip and wires are microscopic, but I am concerned about the effects of a foreign object on her development,” Chakwas says, staring again at the scan.

Miranda purses her lips and takes a moment before responding. “I know Cerberus hasn’t always had the most responsible scientific practices, and I doubt they’ve improved in the wake of the Illusive Man’s death. Nora may very well be their first attempt, and she may be facing extreme developmental problems. Or, she could be the end of the experimental line and they got it right. Or, they could have perfected it years ago and she could be one of many. There’s no way to know for sure.”

Ashley stares at Miranda and then scoffs. She crosses her arms. “None of those is a comforting thought.”

“No,” Olivia agrees, and looks out the medbay windows. Nora’s sitting next to James at a table in the mess, playing with empty MRE boxes, the closest non-explosive thing to blocks they could find. Nora looks up from her tower and waves at Olivia. Olivia waves back; Nora started to cry when she left her with James to go speak with Miranda, but settled when she realized she could see Olivia through the window. Olivia dreads what happens when they get off the ship – when Nora has to go the Alliance, and she has to go home.

“I think the next question is: what does the Alliance plan to do with her?” Miranda asks.

Olivia exhales slowly. “That is a great question.”