#come on I am so stoked and geared up and ready to go

[failedhero-archive]

[missymurphy1985]

The Medic (part one)

Warning - accident / injury

A/N - I've taken a little liberty on the plot of Peaky... This scene totally didn't happen in real life but I needed it for this so... Forgive me?

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni @heidimoreton

"Y/n, it's a few days helping at a film shoot, not open heart surgery!!" Your friend Kate laughed from the bottom of the stairs as you lugged a suitcase down them.

"You know, you could be helping me instead of standing there mocking me..." You groaned. Yes the suitcase might have been a slight over exaggeration, but your years as an A&E doctor had taught you to always be prepared, and expect the unexpected.

You and Kate jumped in her car and headed up the M6 to Liverpool from your hometown of Stoke on Trent. Kate was the onset medic for series 4 of Peaky Blinders, and she'd asked you to come help while her colleague was on leave. You had booked the week off work, and with no other plans you decided to go for it. A few hours a day dealing with the odd graze or cut, as oppose to heart attacks and broken bones? Still sounded like a holiday in your book!

After a doze in the car, she nudged you as you pulled into the hotel car park. The Titanic Hotel - Five Star luxury, indoor pool and gym.. and all paid for by the Peaky producers? You were in for a fun week!

"Oh and don't forget a week with Cillian Murphy..." Kate grinned.

"Oh behave, he's not even that good looking!"

"Wait til you see him in person. My GOD those eyes are intense."

"Sounds like someone's got a crush themselves!"

"Babe if I wasn't married I'd be riding that man like a fucking horse. Come on - we need to check in and unpack. Anto called me earlier, dinner's in an hour."

After unpacking your ridiculously heavy suitcase full of medical equipment, you quickly showered and changed into your black jeans and dark purple blouse. Putting the finishing touches to your makeup, Kate rushing you again.

"Okay, okay I'm ready!!" You laughed, grabbing your handbag and following her down the stairs to the restaurant.

The restaurant was huge.. you were led by the waiter to a back room sealed off from the other guests. As you walked inside you couldn't help but gasp at the people in front of you. The full cast were there - Paul, Sophie, Finn, Natasha... You felt so starstruck you didn't even notice Harry walk over to Kate and hug her in front of you.

"Y/n? You in there?" She asked, laughing at your gormless face.

"What? Oh sorry! Yes, I'm fine, just... No I'm fine. Totally fine."

Harry held out his hand and introduced himself, you took it and smiled.

"He's not here yet." Kate whispered as Harry headed to the bar. You rolled your eyes - where she'd got this fixation about you being attracted to a man you had barely heard of before Peaky Blinders, you'd never know.

The bell in the corner of the room suddenly rang, calling everyone to their seats for dinner. You checked the table plan and sat down on the table marked 'The Garrison', Kate heading to the one marked 'Charlies Yard'. Taking your seat before everyone else, you felt extremely nervous, until the seat next to you was pulled out and they sat beside you.

"You're new?" He asked, sitting down. You glanced to your right into a pair of ocean blue eyes. Cillian Murphy himself had just sat himself down at your table, right next to you.

"I am indeed - the new medic. Covering Louise while she's on leave. I'm Y/n."

"Cillian. Good to meet you. Hopefully, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, I won't see too much of you. Can't say the same for my costars..."

"Oh god, why?" You chuckled.

"I broke someone's nose in series one, stomped on a foot in series two, and last series I think I punched Tom Hardy..."

"Right, so I need to be onset at the same time you are then?"

"Highly recommended!" He laughed. Well you'd never admit it, but Kate was right. Those eyes in person certainly were mesmerising...

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

The following morning you were geared up and ready to go. The set was ready, actors in place. The scene was to be quite the spectacle. Tommy and Arthur in the Garrison, with one of the Peaky Boys who'd betrayed them. The shot would be fired into the ceiling via the man's head. Easy. That easy, you were certain you wouldn't be needed, but your contract stated you or Kate needed to be present at all times, so here you were. Kate was on a different set.

You watched it play out in front of you - it was fascinating seeing it live. Cillian's acting truly was out of this world, you were awestruck. The gun was fired into the ceiling - a warning shot before the man was actually hit. What surprised you was the live round that had been used - you weren't sure if that was planned or someone had loaded it wrong, but it was definitely real. No one batted an eyelid though, so must've been planned... what happened next was certainly not planned.

Dust trickled from above Cillian, light enough for him not to notice, but under the lighting you could see it. You looked up and saw it - the ceiling was crumbling. You knew a set like this used serious rigging to hold it up, but that rigging looked severely unstable right now trying to hold a ceiling up that was on a mission to come down... Right over the boys heads...

"Stop filming, get out of the way!!!" You screamed but it was too late. Within seconds, the rigging, the ceiling, the light fixtures... All of it fell to the floor. Anto held you back, powerless to stop it. As the dust settled you looked at the set, hoping against hope no one had been hit. Paul was at the bar, most of it missing him apart from what looked like a graze on his arm. The traitor boy had quickly fled out of the way and was unharmed.

Where was Cillian?

[wolf-and-bard]

So, I wrote a Lambert x Aiden thing because of a conversation I had with @littoraly-art, so here we go. It’s hurt/comfort, but very much on the angsty side.

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: explicit language, (brief) mentions of self-harming behaviour

You can also read it on AO3 if you want to

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The hunt didn’t go according to plan. Lambert underestimated the amount of ghouls that would crawl out of that shithole and fought them well into the night, dodging and striking, dodging and striking for hours on end. They chased him through the forest and branches whipped at him. More than once, did he narrowly escape their bites and when they were dealt with and he stumbled back to light a bomb in the nest, he wasn’t fast enough on the retreat. His ears still ring and white spots dance at the margins of his vision. Lambert only notices that he’s overdosed on Thunderbolt when he’s already back at the inn he booked for the night, two ales down, and his muscles are still taut, ready to strike, while his sense of self-preservation has plummeted. Fuck. His fingers shake as he gestures for another drink. Sweat gathers at his collar, at the small of his back. He wants to sleep and rest, but he won’t be able to, not with the residue adrenaline.

“Lambert?” someone says and Lambert hunches his shoulders. Maybe if he hides his face, he won’t be recognized. But Aiden’s already emerged from the crowd and, anyway, he would have smelled Lambert the moment he set foot into the building.

“It is you!” Aiden saunters over, all neat bun and scandalously tight gear, his brown hair looking almost black in the downcast light of the inn. His smile is brilliant as he takes the chair opposite Lambert. Takes Lambert’s hands and inspects them for wounds before bringing them to his lips. “Hey, there, pup,” he murmurs against Lambert’s knuckles. Lambert’s heart does skip a beat, but with that comes a flare of anger. Aiden doesn’t get to be lovey and cheerful when Lambert wants to crawl out of his own skin. He hums something indiscernible.

“What is it? Talk to me.”

“Nothing.”

“Oh, really? Alright, if that’s how you want to play it,” Aiden says mockingly, letting Lambert’s hands go. “What? Oh, yes, it is good to see me, isn’t it? How I am? I’m so glad you asked. I managed to haggle a big fat fee on a rock troll couple that were mating up in the mountains and causing avalanches and now I’m drowning in coin. Pretty crazy, right? If I made it okay? Aww, sweetie, there’s no need to worry. Haven’t got a scratch on me. You wanna hear more about it? No, of course it isn’t too much to ask, I will happily oblige.” 

"Just... leave me alone," Lambert cuts in, and lifts his tankard to veil his face. He's good at hiding his emotion, but in the face of whatever this is and with the day he's had... well, his boundaries are more than probed.

“What? So, you can give yourself a sorry hand-job and cry yourself to sleep? No, sir, that would be incredibly pathetic and a crime against humanity.” Aiden smiles and before Lambert can keep drinking, he’s snatched the tankard away and emptied it himself. Great. Now there isn’t even that to hide behind. Lambert likes Aiden, he really does. On most occasions, he’s so overjoyed to see him that he doesn’t recognize himself. Aiden makes him feel… too many things to think about right now. Today though, Lambert’d rather be alone.

“None of your business.”

"Fine, have it your way" Aiden says with a good-natured shrug and, humming, stands. He makes a beeline for the nearest table full of average-to-handsome soldiers with the Temerian blazon on their chests, and slams a hand down on the table. His hips are cocked out, his smile sly, exposing overly sharp canines. They all look up at him with varying degrees of surprise, realisation. “Any of you boys down to fuck a mutant?” Lambert's blood runs cold, he’s had enough of this. He hurls his empty tankard across the room, angling just so he doesn't hit anyone - though no guarantee on the rebound – and leaves.

His armour, clothes and swords are scattered across the small room he rented by the time he makes it into bed, wearing only thin cotton smallclothes. He sits not two minutes, contemplating whether to go asleep or order himself more alcohol to dull the edge of his frustration even further, when Aiden comes into the room, no knock, no courtesy.

“Aren’t you off sucking flaccid cock? Or are you already done the whole lot of them?” Lambert spits, and crosses his arms over his bare chest. Aiden’s eyes darken and he shuts the door behind himself, forceful enough that it rattles, then slips out of his own armour and boots without much ceremony. “Go get your own room, asshole.”

“You know what? Go fuck yourself,” Aiden replies in a measured manner. All his earlier aloofness is gone, replaced by a gravity Lambert has a hard time looking at. Aiden sorts both their stuff into neat piles, then takes Lambert’s swords to the corner chair. Lambert stares at his own knees, but he can hear every tiny movement of Aiden’s hands as he cleans Lambert’s swords, inspects them for chips, pulls out a whetstone to restore their edge. The amount of care this alone conveys almost brings tears to Lambert’s eyes. Aiden could be deep-throating handsome soldiers right now, but instead he’s here, doing for Lambert what he doesn’t have the energy left to do for himself.

When he’s done the swords, Aiden does the same to his own pair, then examines the two sets of armour plating for tears or gashes that need mending. He lines up both chests of potions and counts out what’s missing, takes notes for ingredients. It’s a normal routine, only that usually, each witcher does it for himself. Lambert feels a mixture of embarrassment and affection heat his cheeks, but he doesn’t look up, not yet. Only when Aiden finishes with a soft exhale and wanders over to the bed which dips under his weight, does Lambert uncross his arms. Dares to take a peek. Fuck. He shouldn’t have. Aiden’s pupils are wide in the starlight that falls through the single window, the moon painting him in blues and silvers. Some of his hair has escaped his bun and his lips part on a sigh that expose his teeth. He’s a fucking vision, too gorgeous to be sitting here.

For once, there is quiet, so rare with the two of them. If Lambert lets go of consciousness a little more, it almost feels like a dream. If it were, he would reach out, draw Aiden onto his lap, lose himself in the familiar glide of their bodies against one another. As it is, the silence hangs by a thread and Lambert cuts it, edges fraying into dust between them.

“What,” he barks and Aiden sighs again.

“The only cock I want to suck is yours, idiot. Flaccid or not.

“Is that so?”

“Yes? I thought I had made that abundantly clear.” Aiden has. There have probably been more blowjobs than nights they shared a bed, altogether. And maybe that’s the problem. Aiden might not seem it now, but one day Lambert’s cock will not be enough to make up for his mouth.

"Why were you so obnoxious then?" he asks.

"Because you need to learn not to push me away, Lamb. I'm here, I understand, I'm yours." Three quick sentences that puncture Lambert like barbed arrows. I'm here feels like sparks of an off-kilter Igni that eat at his fingertips. I understand goes right to his gut and makes him feel like he is out on the rocky sea, in a rickety boat all by himself, at the storm's mercy. I'm yours is the lightning that strikes then and short-circuits his nervous system into small spams. He takes a deep breath and the soft kiss Aiden places on the corner of his mouth when he leans over helps quell the panic. "I can't change how I am," he says. Prickly, loud-mouthed, mean.

"You really aren't... no, that's not gonna work, is it? C’mere." Aiden crawls over the bed and settles next to Lambert, draws him against him, his strong arms wrapped firmly around Lambert's bare chest. Lambert's head is throbbing lightly, heartrate kept accelerated from the alcohol, but he deflates a little. Notices the small vial with almost clear liquid Aiden is holding between his index and middle finger. “You didn’t drink it, did you?”

Lambert shrugs. So, maybe he forgot to take the White Honey, fucked-up as he was. So, maybe he didn’t want to take it, stay fucked-up a little longer. He has days like this, where the lingering toxicity of the potions stokes some dark flame deep inside of him, kindled by his hatred for what he is, what he has become. Lambert isn’t prone to self-harm, but this, well. This he is prone to and Aiden is seeing right through him. Fucking cat, fucking.... is this love yet?

“I didn’t.”

“So, do it now.” Aiden uncorks the bottle with one hand and his grip on Lambert tightens so that he would have to struggle to escape it. For a moment, Lambert thinks about refusing. He wants to wallow, dammit, he wants to pity himself and maybe have Aiden pity him too. “Don’t think about it, pup. You can bullshit your way around other people, but not around me,” Aiden continues and holds the vial to Lambert’s lips. Lambert snatches it away and empties it in two long drags. Immediately, his vision sharpens and his lungs clear. His muscles stop trembling and his heartrate settles into its normal, mutated rhythm. “Better?”

“Better,” Lambert agrees sulkily. He tosses the vial aside and sinks back against Aiden.

“You’re really stupid sometimes, you know that?” Aiden says with a sharp edge to his voice, but he noses at Lambert’s ear, under it, breath hot over the skin of Lambert’s throat.

“You’re the one that’s stupid…” Stupid for caring for me. Stupid for still being here.

“Will you stop it already? I’m trying so hard to be patient and you keep pushing me away. Did you forget who I am? What we share?”

“I didn’t,” Lambert says. He is weak and tired. He lets Aiden tug at his chin and half-turn him for a kiss that lingers even after their lips part for breath.

“Then drop the farce. Fuck, I don’t know what to say to you,” Aiden whispers against his mouth, chasing each word with a kiss to Lambert’s lips, the corners of his mouth, his nose. “I love you, Lambert, I love you so fucking much, but I can’t keep prying you out of your shell. Don’t you trust me?”

I want to love you too, Lambert thinks.

With my life, Lambert thinks.

You’re the best person I’ve ever met, Lambert thinks.

But he isn’t ready for that yet and so he settles for the next best thing: “I’m sorry.” The rest of it he pours into their next kiss, one that feels frozen in time for how slow and indulgent it is, the world reduced to the drag of their lips and the scratch of Aiden’s canines, the stuttering of his breath. Lambert wriggles around until he straddles Aiden’s lap with his thighs and frames Aiden’s tanned face with his scarred, pale fingers. Even paler next to his lover. Aiden fucking glows and Lambert is less a man, more a phantom next to him.

“Fuck, puppy, you’re so beautiful, do you know that?” Aiden gasps when they part once more. His hands are splayed over Lambert’s upper back and they are both half-hard against one another, but Lambert doesn’t feel like sex. He feels like curling up and having a good cry. He feels like kissing Aiden again, and so he does.

“And here I am, trying so hard to hide it so you peasants don’t feel bad about yourselves,” Lambert says, on instinct more than anything else. He wants to slap himself, this is exactly what Aiden meant, isn’t it? But Aiden laughs, the fucker, a clear sound that sets loose something fluttery inside of Lambert. Shit. It is love. “I thought the scar would have done the job.”

“Joke’s on you, I adore the scar.” Aiden presses his lips to the bottom of it and drags them along, skipping Lambert’s eye in favour of nuzzling his forehead. It’s ridiculous. It tickles. Lambert laughs and hides his face in Aiden’s neck. Aiden sighs and his hands wander up to Lambert’s head, cradling it. “Promise me something, pup?”

Anything, Lambert thinks. He grunts.

“Allow yourself this. I don’t need you to fall onto your knees and profess your love in some grand gesture, but… don’t shut me out. Okay?”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Thank you.”

Lambert falls asleep like that, tucked against Aiden’s chest and he wakes in the morning facing the sunrise with an arm slung around his bare torso and Aiden’s nose pressed against the nape of his neck. He allows it to last.

[marquez-junky8920]

"You know I'm not like that." with Alex please? 🥰😘

Insecurity

Race weekend was upon you once again, and it was Alex's home GP. You had never traveled to Spain before, so he was absolutely stoked to show you around and show you where he grew up and where he came from. He flew you in to Cervera for the week before the race and the entire week was filled with visiting old spot he used to go after school to clear his mind, an ice cream parlor, and as he was walking with you to the highest point that overlooks the city, he found a beautiful white daisy and gifted it to you. Alex was always one for sweet and small gestures like that, but as small as they were, they always managed to make your heart melt.

'Ready to go baby?' he asked, grabbing his water bottle and putting on his sunglasses at the door of the mobile home. Putting on your shoes, you jumped up and walked to the door. As your hand went to grab the handle, he grabbed your wrist and held your hand.

'You look beautiful today.' he smiled at the blush that spread across your cheeks and kissed your forehead.

'I could say the same to you. You're like a walking leather god right now.' your eyes scrapped down his body and back up again. He always looked so ravishing in those leathers...

'Oohhh kinky...' he winked and bit his lip before swatting at your ass as you opened the door.

'You are unbelievable.' you snorted out a laugh and walked hand in hand with him to his garage. Greeting his crew was always a fun time. You had come up with a hand shake with his crew chief and before every race, you did it with him as kind of a way to break the tension and for good luck as well.

Seeing Alex in his element around these bikes, the mechanics, the crew, and all the managers was a treat to see every weekend. As much as his mind was geared to business on a race weekend, he never forgot that his team is like family to him and they are always treated as such. Alex is an incredibly humble human being and that is one of the many reasons that you are attracted to him. No matter what happens, he isn't afraid to go back to his roots to ground himself and stay humble minded.

'Are we going with soft or medium today?' Alex asked his crew chief.

As the man began to give his answer, a woman about your age walked in to pit lane with a VIP pass around her neck.

'Hi Alex.' she lilted as best she could. She really made sure that her breasts were pushed up in her shirt and her ass was hanging out of her shorts before she got here...

Alex's head turned to look where the voice came from and his expression changed completely. You couldn't read what it was, but it looked somewhere in between shock and annoyance.

'Hi.' he said shortly, giving her a half assed hug when she walked up and demanded one.

'You always did look hot in these leathers.' she bit her lip. Was this woman really this brave?

You got up and walked up behind Alex and offered her a sarcastic smile.

'Hi there.' you offered her a hand shake and she looked like you had offered her a plate of dog shit.

'Who are you?'

'I'm Alex's girlfriend. And you are?'

'Oh I'm his ex-girlfriend, Alina. Looks like he didn't really find any better after me.' she looked disgusted as her eyes went up and down your body.

'Clearly he did, otherwise you wouldn't be his ex-girlfriend sweetheart.' you smiled at her and tilted your head slightly.

'Alex are you going to let her talk to me like that?' Alina looked up at Alex who was trying not to laugh.

'Of course I am. You need to leave.' he told her sternly, the depth in his voice making your insides shiver a little bit.

'Have a nice race, asshole.' Alina turned and walked away, attempting to sway her hips that were nonexistent.

'Hey Satan, do me a favor and try not to catch the bleachers on fire!' you shouted after her, not even caring if she heard you.

'How did she even know that you were going to be here today?' you asked him as he sat in his chair.

'I think she still follows me on Instagram. She must've seen the pictures I posted of biking the track with Marc yesterday.' he explained. You felt a small pang of anger rise in the pit of your stomach when he said that she still follows him on Instagram.

'Do you still follow her?'

'No I don't. As soon as we broke up, I removed every picture we'd taken together on my phonr and I unfollowed her everywhere.' he said.

'Okay.' you said, sitting next to him and crossing your legs.

'Are you alright?' he asked, knowing that in a situation like this, 'okay' was never a good answer. He didn't want you to shut down and just pack away your feelings.

'I just don't understand why you don't block her so she can't see your page. She's your ex-girlfriend Alex. She doesn't deserve to be a part of your life anymore and by the looks of what happened today, it doesn't look like it would be a bad idea to remove her from your life altogether.' you rambled.

'Hey, hey, it's alright. I don't know why I didn't block her. I just never thought that she'd be this crazy, but I guess that was my first mistake.' he chuckled lightly and kneeled in front of you.

'Do you still like her?' you asked, feeling insecurity wash over you at the question.

'God no. I despise that woman.' he cupped your cheek in his hand and ran his thumb along your skin. His eyes held such love for you and also remorse for not thinking of this sooner. One thing about Alex was that he had mastered the art of seeing where another person was coming from in an argument or a debate. In this case, he knew what he had to do.

'Honey, I would never choose someone from my past over you. You know I'm not like that. You are my present and my future and I would never do anything to purposely sabotage that. Here,' he said, handing you his phone, 'You know what her Instagram is. Find her on my page and block her. Block anyone else who makes you feel uncomfortable or upset.' he put his thumb under your chin and you looked up at him. 'I will always put you and your happiness first. I love you and I want to build a life with you. Travel the world together.'

He placed a kiss on your forehead and held your hand. You smiled into the kiss on your forehead and you felt your insecure thoughts begin to melt away slowly.

'Can this wait until after you finish the race? I want to do this with you and not behind your back.' you said, handing his phone back to him.

'Of course we can. We can shit talk together.' he smiled and kissed your lips before putting on his helmet.

'I love you.' he said, just his chocolate brown eyes visible through his open visor. They held all the emotion you needed to feel from him right now.

'I love you too Alex.' you kissed his nose protector and smacked his ass as he walked to get on his bike. He whipped his head around to you and made a cheeky face that made you laugh as he drove out of pit lane.

After the race, Alex took you back to his mobile home and changed out of his leathers before sitting down with you and going through all of his Instagram followers. His actions held no hesitation whatsoever about blocking Alina and that was a very comforting feeling.

'Bye bye bitchy Barbie.' you said, more to yourself than to anyone but Alex snorted out a laugh and looked over at you.

'My god I love you.' he tangled his hand through your hair and placed a searing kiss against your lips.

'Mm... Should we celebrate your win today?' you bit your lips and ran your hands underneath his shirt.

'Gee, let me think...' he said sarcastically before rolling you on your back and chuckling into your neck as you laughed at his response. Nothing like Alex showing you that he only wanted you by fucking you into the mattress. Who were you to ask questions...

END

[journalxxx]

By Hook or by Crook (7)

“So! How does it look?” Toshinori asked, with a booming voice and his best hands-on-hips pose to kickstart the endeavor with a healthy dose of enthusiasm.

He wasn’t particularly successful. 

“Daunting. Impossible. Like I’m gonna die of old age before I’m anywhere close to making a change.”

“A little optimism goes a long way, you know?”

“...I may not die before I’ve lugged away some of this.” Midoriya amended tentatively, scanning the extensive length of garbage-filled beach stretching before them. “And… what doesn’t kill me will make me stronger?”

“That’s the spirit!” Toshinori gave him a pat on the back, strong enough to make the boy stammer forwards. He walked around the back of the truck and started unloading the few supplies he’d brought.

“Wear these.” Toshinori threw him a pair of work gloves. He hoped he’d eyeballed the size right. “I trust you’re up to date with all your vaccines.”

“Uhm.”

“Hopefully no one’s dumping organic waste in here, but I’ll bring some traps if you see any rats. They won’t solve the problem, but it’s better than letting them scurry around freely.”

Midoriya’s eyes darted between the gloves and the beach with muted horror. “R-Rats?”

“Scared of rats?” Toshinori couldn’t help but tease. “Did I mention that I had to wade through the sewers for half an hour before finding you and the sludge villain the other day?”

Midoriya instantly looked mortified. “I-I’m sorry-”

“Not your fault! Don’t apologize!” Toshinori tossed his hands in the air. This kid desperately needed to learn the basic mechanics of humor. “I’m just saying that heroes can’t be squeamish! Rats come with the job, as well as a variety of nasty stuff and filth.”

“Right.” Midoriya followed him as Toshinori, cooler in one hand and bag of papers in the other, sat down on the last steps of the stairs. He picked an egg sandwich for himself and fished a folder out of the bag, opening it on his thighs and starting to read it.

It took him a few seconds to realize that Midoriya was still staring at him, as if awaiting further instructions.

“Well? Have at it!” Toshinori gestured widely at his new playground.

“Oh, uhm, okay.” The kid donned the gloves and took a single step towards the piles before pausing to look at Toshinori again. “I thought you wanted to ask me… stuff.”

“Yes, but I’m not sure you can handle working and talking at the same time without building up some stamina first.” Toshinori answered, eyeing the boy’s scrawny frame critically. “We’ll talk while you’ll be taking a break to catch a breather, which is probably going to happen sooner rather than later.”

“Oh… All right.” Midoriya turned away, his arms hanging limply from hunched shoulders as he muttered to himself.  “...Where do I even start...?”

“From the small things. Working your way up to the heavier objects.” Toshinori explained patiently, then gave him a pointed look. “I get the feeling you’re procrastinating.”

The boy approached the closest stack… and did nothing. Was he ever going to stop waffling and get cracking? “Meanwhile, you’ll just, uh… do your own thing?”

“Surely you don’t need me to guide you through the elaborate process of moving objects from point A to point B, do you?” Maybe the kid detected the hint of annoyance in Toshinori’s voice, because he finally, finally set to grab the closest piece of junk- “...Oh. Okay, that’s not a great start.”

“What?” Midoriya stopped halfway through picking up what was probably the first electric fan ever invented, all the way back in the Iron Age. “I haven’t even done anything yet!”

“Bend your knees, not your back. Otherwise you’re going to- do you really not know this? Isn’t the correct way to lift weights Household Chores 101?”

“Oh, right, I know.” Midoriya rearranged his stance in a way that was less likely to earn him a slipped disk within the next two hours. “Do people really lift things like this though? It’s… a lot harder than the normal way.”

“For your legs, yes. For your back, no. You’ll thank me when you’ll be old enough to realize you aren’t made out of rubber.”

Toshinori munched slowly while he watched the kid carry his first loads to the truck. That act alone seemed to distract Midoriya to an amusing degree, his gaze often flicking to meet Toshinori’s eyes for just a moment before shooting back in front of him with blatant self-consciousness. Toshinori allowed the boy a few minutes of warm-up, just the time for him to finish his sandwich and sip a small cup of apple juice, before deciding to kick things into proper gear.

“Running from the truck to the heaps and vice versa would help you gain some endurance too, rather than leisurely strolling back and forth.” Toshinori commented as Midoriya walked past him. 

The kid stopped in his tracks and regarded him with a mix of horror and aversion that vaguely reminded him of death-row inmates when faced with their executioners.

“What?” Toshinori went on, unperturbed. “Are you expecting to get fit without getting tired?”

“No, of course not-”

“Besides, you’ll need to keep a swift pace if you want to clear the whole beach before the admission exam.”

“Wha- All of it?! Before the…” Midoriya sputtered, arms wrapping more tightly around the broken chair he was holding as if that was supporting him instead of the other way around. “Y-You never said…”

“But of course! They don’t do things by half measures in U.A., so why should you?” Toshinori grinned. “Plus Ultra, am I right?” 

Midoriya let out an incredulous chuckle. “You’re kidding, right? There’s no way I can do something like that...”

“Depends on how much elbow grease you’re willing to put into it.”

Midoriya’s expression shifted minutely as he caught onto Toshinori’s seriousness. “But… but that’s impossible! No matter how hard I work, I can’t- I can’t move stuff like that!” He griped, pointing at the wrecked husk of a van half-buried under a mound of assorted refuse. “Even if I do my best-”

“And pray tell, what’s your best?” Toshinori stood up and walked to the kid, ditching the whimsical demeanor. If playful cajoling wasn’t enough to stir him, maybe it was time to bust out the big guns. “What’s the heaviest you can lift? The fastest you can run? The hardest you can push yourself? When’s the last time you actually tried your very best, and how did it fall short?”

Toshinori was already well and truly spent for the day, but he let the provocation and drive in his words stoke the fire within him, and it flared. The Symbol of Peace broke out of his diminutive shell among dramatic wisps of steam, ready to bestow his wisdom more effectively than his rickety counterpart ever could.

“Do you know what’s the only way to gauge your limits? Reaching them. And the only way to get stronger?“ Toshinori held out his arm between them, and clenched his fist resolutely. He relished the sensation of unyielding muscles tensing and bulging under his skin, tangible proof of the truth of his assertions. “Gritting your teeth and smashing past them! Little by little, but constantly!”

Midoriya had only witnessed that transformation once, poorly and by accident, and it showed. The chair had slipped from his hands without him even noticing, and now lay forgotten at his feet on the bare sand. The kid was gawking at him with wide eyes and mouth agape, the very picture of spellbound rapture. It was far from an unfamiliar reaction from whoever was graced by the Symbol of Peace’s presence, and yet it was still flattering, every time.

“You’ll never improve if you keep dwelling on what you think you can do now. Focus on what you want to do next. Visualize it as a clear goal. Build an image out of it, and then carve it in reality. If you really want that van to move, then it will move. If you really want this beach to be clear, then it will be. But you have to put your back, sweat and heart into making it happen!”

All Might captivated his one-man audience with the usual effortlessness, boisterous showmanship and honest positivity deeply intertwined in a way that boggled his detractors’ minds, but that felt so natural and appropriate to Toshinori. He’d made an art out of it, down to the rumble of his voice and the firmness of his gestures and the levity of his attitude, the art of highlighting and displaying the very best parts of himself so that they could resonate louder, better, brighter.

“So what will it be, young Midoriya? Will you clean up this place within the next ten months or not?”

“Y-Yes. I will.” That had done the trick. It was obvious from the way Midoriya’s back straightened and his expression toughened. It was obvious from the spark kindled in his eyes, a reflection of Toshinori’s own passion, still lacking in heat but full of potential.

“Then you’d better get down to it!” The hero sealed the deal with a radiant smile and a thumbs up. “Time’s a-wastin’!”

“Yes, sir!” Midoriya picked up the chair and dashed towards the truck to unload it there, then he immediately bounced back down the stairs and towards the nearest heap of waste. Toshinori observed the boy’s next rounds with his unwavering smile and few approving nods that kept the kid a bit lighter on his feet.

How much easier it was for All Might to touch people’s hearts. How much easier to inspire, to reassure, to nurture. How much easier everything was for All Might, really. If only that shining beacon of hope wasn’t shackled by the whims of a withering body, how much richer society at large would be for it. 

Toshinori let out a deep exhale that took more than just air out of him, and the flame settled down to a low glow. He couldn’t hold back a few wet coughs, and he promptly turned his shrunken back on Midoriya’s concerned glance to sit back on the cool steps.

Unfortunately, there was a lot more than motivation to strength training. Right off the bat, Toshinori could tell that Midoriya wasn’t going to last twenty full minutes of workout. He honestly didn’t know that an ostensibly healthy individual could reach the ripe age of fourteen with such poor body awareness. The boy had coordination and balance on par with a toddler’s: he stumbled on his feet, he tripped on sand, he nearly fell off the stairs twice before realizing that trying to climb them while his view was obstructed by the very items he was carrying might be a less than optimal solution. He seemed to be unaware of the existence of entire muscle groups, and Toshinori had to physically get up and mime movements for him to understand how to exert force more efficiently. Not to mention that he needed incessant needling lest his sprints quickly devolved into lax jogs. 

This whole training thing was going to be… an interesting experience, Toshinori could already tell.

Exactly sixteen and a half minutes later, the boy all but collapsed on the stairs beside Toshinori, gasping for air and wiping his forehead on his sleeve.

“B-Break?” He pleaded, quite redundantly. 

Toshinori took pity on his plight and pushed the cooler in his direction. “Have a drink.”

“Oh, thank you…” The lack of polite refusal made Toshinori suspect that Midoriya had forgotten to bring his own water. 

“There’s sports drinks and fruit juice in there too. Save the snacks for after you’re finished, food and heavy workouts don’t always agree with each other.” Toshinori had packed food primarily for himself, expecting their after-school meeting to last long enough for him to slot in one or two meals in the meantime, but he had taken care of adding a few extras for the kid. A good idea, because the possibility of Midoriya face planting on the ground halfway through out of sheer exhaustion seemed more and more likely by the minute.

“Thank you, you didn’t have to…”

“I promised bribes, didn’t I?” 

Midoriya flashed him the tiniest smile, and eagerly drank some water while Toshinori retrieved a small journal and a pen from the other bag. He skimmed through the list of preliminary topics he’d scribbled on the first page under Tsukauchi’s advice, wondering which one he should tackle first.

“All right.” Deciding to follow his instinct in spite of basic common sense, Toshinori decided to begin from the end. “These phone calls of yours. Give me an idea of what they’re like. The last one you had with your father was on April 1st, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Tell me about it. Everything you talked about, as precisely as you can remember it.”

The good thing was that Midoriya’s memory was very accurate, and he was able to recall the whole conversation basically step by step. The less good thing was that said conversation was largely commonplace and unremarkable, consisting of very ordinary small talk and inquiries about school, grades, news, local events-

“Quirks?”

“Mh-hm.” The boy nodded. “We always end up talking about quirks, in one way or another. Quirks and heroes. It’s always been… a common interest.”

“Always, uh?”

“Yeah, we’ve been doing it since… forever, really. I’ve always found quirks fascinating, and he has lots of great insight to offer.”

“I can imagine...” Toshinori mumbled. Asking who had initiated that habit was probably pointless, it sounded like it had started too early in the boy’s life for him to remember - or even to understand if he had been deliberately led to develop that interest. Some intriguing nature-versus-nurture speculations could be made on the matter, but they weren’t likely to aid Tsukauchi’s case. “And in what way do you talk about them?”

“We… analyze them, discuss them. What is known for sure about a certain quirk, what can be deduced from footage and descriptions of its use, what its unmentioned limitations might be, how it could be further developed… You saw my notebook, right? Basically the kind of stuff that’s in there.”

“Wait.” Toshinori blinked. Could he have already stumbled into a treasure trove of All For One-certified information? “You mean that all that’s written in that notebook was dictated by your father?”

The kid almost choked on his next gulp of water, and shot Toshinori an almost offended look. “No! No, no, it’s all stuff I found out on my own! Well, almost all of it, there are some additions of his here and there, but… Uh, I’d say at least 90% of it is mine, and 10% of it is his… Actually, more like 95% and 5%-”

Well, that sounded less promising, but it was still a lead. “So he’s been basically teaching you how to conduct your own quirk analyses?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say teaching. I wish our school teachers were that engaging...” Midoriya let out a small sigh. “But I guess we do go about it a little like with school essays. Research, deadline, discussion and all that…”

“Pardon?”

“Well, every month we decide which heroes or quirks we’re going to talk about the next time - back in March we chose Hawks, Kido and Snatch for last month’s call, for example. During the rest of the month we gather information and draw our conclusions, and then we compare them during the next chat.”

“You’ve got quite the well-oiled routine going on there, haven’t you?”

“Actually, I think it’s just to give me a chance to make my own deductions with a clear head instead of on the fly.” Midoriya scratched said tousled head in embarrassment. “I bet he doesn’t even need to do any research, he’s always on the top of his game. I’ve never been able to, uh… one-up him, you know? He always knows what I’m driving at, and somehow he always brings my hypotheses two or three steps further than where I stop.”

Toshinori answered with a non-committal hum. No surprise there, the man was a living quirk storeroom complete with its own self-congratulatory, sentient database. “You don’t seem too bothered by it though.”

“Oh, I’m not. It’s not like he’s ever… disappointed or angry or anything, even if I don’t get stuff. He just enjoys chatting, I guess.” That he surely did, Toshinori grimly thought. Way too much. “And I do too. It’s kind of like a game. Or a challenge.”

“A challenge?”

“Yeah, uh… How can I explain…?” The boy drummed his fingers on the bottle as he collected his thoughts. “Okay, for example: one of the first things dad asked me about Hawks was what shape his wings are, and what I could deduce from that about his flight capabilities. Which was a trick question! I knew it as soon as I heard it, because I’d already figured out the real answer during my research.”

“Ah.” Toshinori blinked. “And… how is that a trick question, exactly?”

“Because Hawks doesn’t actually fly! Not like a bird, at least, so his wing shape doesn’t matter!” Midoriya beamed, and suddenly Toshinori realized that that was the first real, genuine, enthusiastic smile the boy had given him since they’d met. And, without exaggeration, not crying, panicking or grimacing made him look almost like an entirely different person. “He simply can’t! Humans can’t fly even if you stick a pair of wings to them, they’re just too heavy! Other heroes who can fly properly are mostly transformers, like Ryukyu - their whole bodies change when they shift, bone structure and all - but Hawks’ body is entirely human if you exclude his wings.”

Midoriya reached for his backpack and drew out the same charred notebook Toshinori had signed days earlier. An item so vital to the kid’s daily life that he always had it with him, apparently, even more essential than beverages during a workout session. A peculiar, if questionable, trait.

“What Hawks actually does isn’t flying, it’s levitating!” The kid held the notebook open before Toshinori’s eyes on a spread page dedicated to the hero in question. “He uses the second facet of his quirk, the telekinesis that allows him to control his feathers singularly! That also explains his incredible speed, which is completely unjustifiable if you only take into account normal bird flight aerodynamics. His propulsion is powered by his feathers - and each of them is quite speedy and powerful on its own, so it stands to reason that he would be lightning-fast when his wings contain so many of them pushing him in unison!”

Toshinori politely elected to wait for the onslaught of words to subside on its own, although he already suspected that it was a little like standing right under a waterfall and waiting for someone higher up to turn off the faucet.

“That said, that doesn’t explain everything about his quirk… For example, a single feather of his is capable of lifting and transporting an adult person, that has been extensively documented. Yet, he loses the ability to levitate relatively soon after dispatching too many of them - he becomes unable to float even when he still has at least several dozens of them attached to his body. We couldn’t figure out why that happens with the information we have. Maybe it’s harder for him to apply his power to himself, that is often the case for emitters. Maybe it messes with his proprioception, and he can’t control the feathers he hasn’t detached as finely as all the others…”

If there was one thing Toshinori was absolutely certain of at this point, it was that the kid wasn’t short on breath any more. “And this is the part you inferred on your own.”

“Yep! And dad agreed with all of it!” Midoriya’s smile grew even wider. It was astonishing how much it didn’t look like dad’s deranged, shark-like, nightmare-inducing sneer, and Toshinori could only send a quiet thanks to the heavens for that. “This is all guesswork though. Do you… by any chance, do you know if we were on the right track? I’d be really curious to know…”

“Ah, I can’t help you there, kid.” Toshinori felt suddenly on the spot. “I’m not acquainted with Hawks, nor do I know more about his quirk than the average person.”

“Oh, I thought… Since you’re both- I mean, I thought All Might may have met him during the billboard chart events, what with them both being in the top ten.”

“We passed by each other, yes, but we were never properly introduced. He wasn’t particularly interested in rubbing elbows with the old guard, I suppose.”

“Oh. Well, that’s his loss, for sure.” Midoriya, funnily enough, pouted. “Pity, I was wondering… Even if he doesn’t fly, he does flap his wings in a way that resembles a bird’s. I wonder if that’s intentional, to mislead opponents and prevent them from figuring out how he actually moves. Or maybe he does it subconsciously…”

“I’m afraid I really don’t know…” Toshinori had never met Hawks on the field either, it wasn’t common for accidents to require more than a single big-name hero to intervene these days. Especially if one of them was the number one, who often showed up first and invariably solved any incident in mere minutes-

Toshinori suddenly came back to himself and almost facepalmed in frustration. Why was he letting himself be interrogated about completely irrelevant hero trivia? He was the one asking questions! God, he was bad at this. “And your father had nothing to contribute about all this?”

“Not about this specifically, but he did raise a point I hadn’t considered.” Midoriya looked up at the sky, once again lost in his very wordy, very deep lucubrations. “Hawks has an astonishing control on his quirk. He can use his telekinesis to move hundreds of feathers at once, to sense his surroundings, he can even harden them and turn them into weapons. He made Fierce Wings into an incredibly versatile ability, and he’s so young too… And yet, there’s no record of him attending any hero school or training facility in Japan, nor abroad. He claims to be self-taught, but… admittedly, it is hard to believe. One would think he must have had some excellent education and tutoring to make it into the top ten when he was only eighteen…”

Toshinori didn’t reply. Midoriya looked back at him when the silence stretched, and whatever he spied on Toshinori’s face made him immediately backpedal. “I-I mean, it’s odd, but, uh… not suspicious per se, nor a sign of anything… weird or bad about him. There are many heroes who, ehr, prefer to keep their personal history private, especially geniuses, and that’s fine! They have all the right to! Same goes for their quirks, it makes total sense-”

Toshinori massaged his left temple slowly. Right, better just nip this topic in the bud before it got irredeemably out of hand. 

He peered again at the notebook in Midoriya’s hands. So All For One had been imparting occasional, amicable quirk analysis lessons to the kid for a good decade, which sounded suspiciously like the kind of knowledge a potential underling or successor might use. On the other hand, Toshinori could think of a million other ways for the Symbol of Fear to instil skills in his son - all of them remarkably more efficient, safe, manageable and ruthless. The whole thing was contradictory in a way that didn’t sit right with Toshinori.

“Mind if I take another look at that?” Toshinori had been in a bit of a rush the first time round, and he’d only taken a cursory glance at the contents of Midoriya’s notes. But if there was a chance of those pages containing words uttered by All For One himself, a more thorough examination was in order.

“Not at all! But, uh…” Midoriya was fast to hand out the item, but his eagerness to assist was even faster to dampen. “Are you going to retain this as evidence too?”

“Mh, I don’t think that will be necessary...” Right, the poor kid’s house had probably been ransacked even further after Toshinori and Tsukauchi’s first pass. No wonder he was worried about losing this prized possession too. “But if it will be, I can make a copy of it for you to keep, so you won’t lose all your, uh, data.”

“Oh, thanks! That would be great!” The kid perked up instantly. He was so easy to please. “Although… I guess I should make a copy of it myself anyway. It’s already kind of… unrecoverable. I could detach the pages with All Might’s sign and preserve those separately, and just photocopy everything else…”

Toshinori’s imagination mercilessly supplied him with the picture of a new addition to Midoriya’s bedroom decor, his five-second poorly-made signature hung to a wall in an elegant frame. He repressed a groan, deliberately neglected to point out that he could simply provide as many new authentic signs as needed, and directed his attention back to the scorched edges of the notebook. “Right… What happened to this thing, anyway? Did someone put it in a toaster?”

Midoriya let out a totally not nervous chuckle as he wrung his hands in a totally not nervous fashion. “Oh, uhm... You know…” Toshinori didn’t, actually, but the kid didn’t elaborate either. 

Well, he was allowed to have a modicum of privacy, still. Toshinori let the issue drop, and nudged the boy with his foot. “You seem well rested. Back to the trash you go.”

Midoriya shuffled to his feet less than enthusiastically, and resumed toiling away at his task. While still checking on him often, ready to poke and prod at the first hint of sluggishness, Toshinori browsed through the kid’s notebook. While the contents were indeed worthy of attention, they were scarce in quantity. It must be rather new, since less than a quarter of the pages had been filled. However, the promise of more material to be discovered made Toshinori withhold his judgement on the matter for the time being.

Once that was done, he continued his perusal of the few files Tsukauchi had already put together about the Midoriya case. Toshinori had practically begged his friend to let him have an active role, any active role in the case: he simply couldn’t bear to twiddle his thumbs until someone else kindly pointed him to All For One’s hideout for another overdue thrashing. He simply needed to be involved, or he’d probably start crawling up walls within a week.

Questioning the kid was pretty much the only suitable occupation for him, currently… Well, it was either that or questioning Mrs. Midoriya, and Toshinori was fairly sure that his brain would leak out of his ears if he heard any more details about All For One’s romantic escapades. He wasn’t exactly an expert when it came to investigative work, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he was going to spare no effort to earn some results. If that meant poring over reams of police reports in the hopes of spotting some helpful clue, so be it. At least it would keep him busy, and busy was good, especially in trying times.

He’d applied the same logic to Midoriya, in a sense. The boy seemed the kind of person who’d very easily overthink himself into a negative spiral, even in less dire circumstances than the messy family drama he’d found himself into. It would do him good to focus on a better future, rather than on his depressing present. Giving him a goal to set his sights on would keep him going more smoothly. 

At first Toshinori had thought to motivate him towards his dream career, but it turned out that the boy’s strategy about the admission test was… nebulous at best. Not that he could truly blame him for it: fourteen-year-old Toshinori didn’t exactly have a multi-step plan towards becoming the Symbol of Peace either, one couldn’t help being somewhat scatterbrained at that age. 

The illegal dumping site had been a serendipitous discovery, and cleaning it up was the perfect type of goal to incite the boy towards. It was very obvious and straightforward, and required no intricate planning: he simply needed to roll up his sleeves and buckle down. And the muscle he’d build while doing it would serve him well for heroic purposes too, so it was a win-win on all fronts. Not to mention that some good old physical exertion would help him sleep at night, which he was still struggling with, if the persistent bags under his eyes were of any indication. Toshinori dearly missed the times when that trick still worked on him too, when driving himself to the brink of exhaustion was a guaranteed one-way ticket to restful and regenerative dreamland. Nowadays, if he accumulated even a sliver of excessive fatigue, all he got was… well, fatigue. And a metric ton of unrelenting body pains and lasting debilitation.

The rest of the afternoon went by smoothly and unremarkably. Midoriya drudged through many rounds of garbage disposal with decreasing energy and verve, but that was to be expected. Toshinori collected more barely relevant and generally useless information, but that was to be expected too. They were both in for the long haul, there was no point in getting upset about it. Eventually the sun started to set, and Toshinori beckoned the boy back to him with a handwave.

“You have more of these?” Toshinori said, tapping his index on the big 13 on the cover of the notebook still on his lap.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Could you bring them with you next time?”

“All of them?” Midoriya seemed frazzled. 

“If you still have them, yes. Would that be a problem?”

The boy scratched his head as his cheek reddened slightly. “N-No, not a problem, but some of them are really… I finished the first one when I was seven. They aren't just outdated, they’re… ehr, childish. Just doodles and misspelled ramblings.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I’ll be grading them.” Not yet, at least. Toshinori smirked at his own private joke. Maybe he should grade them, as a small practice run. “I just want to give a quick read to a few things here and there.”

“O-Okay…”

“Good. Well, I think we can call it a day.” Toshinori rummaged in his cooler to fetch a chocolate energy bar, and tossed it to the exhausted boy. “Catch.”

Despite the warning, Midoriya did not catch, and the snack bumped against his chest and fell to the ground with a sad clack. Reflexes were MIA too, apparently. What a rare specimen of a prospective hero Toshinori had crossed paths with.

“T-Thank you!” Midoriya immediately picked it up, unwrapped it and shoved it into his mouth as he hopped into the passenger seat of the truck. Whether it was real hunger or fear of passing as rude, Toshinori couldn’t tell.

The drive to Midoriya’s house was brief. The boy was too tired to chat - as if they hadn’t already had their fill for the day. When they arrived and Midoriya climbed out of the vehicle to be on his way, Toshinori finally addressed one last pressing issue.

“Tomorrow your father is going to call you.”

“Yeah.” The kid’s eyes dropped to the ground. Maybe Toshinori should have brought it up sooner. Way to end the meeting on a sour note.

“How are you going to handle that?”

“I’m not.” The boy shrugged. “Mom will tell him I just got my tonsils removed. It's… safer for now. I think.”

Toshinori nodded. “Let’s take a day off then. Even if you can’t speak, he might want to say something to you, and it would be strange for you not to be at home while recovering.”

“Okay.”

He looked so very small, and so very young like that, bathed in the warm hues of sunset, but with no real warmth to his eyes and demeanor. He was too small and too young to be dealing with this shit. No one was old or big enough to deal with any of All For One’s shit, really. Toshinori would have to make sure no one would have to ever again.

“Thank you for your help today. It’s very appreciated, believe me.” Toshinori offered, with his most sincere smile. “Feel free to text me or Tsukauchi if anything comes up, you should be able to reach at least one of us at any hour of day or night.”

“Okay. Thank you. Have a good evening.”

“You too, kid.” Toshinori watched him until the door of his house closed behind his back, then he drove off.

[sinnaminsuga]

Title: Bookkeeper

Summary: How you became a bookkeeper to the city's most infamous crime lord was sort of a “right time right place” situation. You used to work in the cash handling office for the local grocery store and even leaders of organized crime operations need to grocery shop right? Right.

Pairing: Henry x Reader

Word Count: 1,445

Warnings: none (if i missed anything let me know!)

A/N: hello! i had this idea a few days ago and have been struggling with bringing it to life. it's pretty lame and based mostly on my dumb ass job so i'm sorry if it's trash! 😂

*if you'd like to be removed from my tags just let me know!*

Tags: @october505 @infinite-shite @hope-to-hell @inlovewithhisblueeyes @littlefreya @viking-raider @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @foodieforthoughts @raspberrydreamclouds @dancingwendigo @oddsnendsfanfics @its--fandom--darling @the-soot-sprite @connieisland @feralrunaway

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- 8 months ago -

The day you met Henry, he was the next customer in line at register five. The cashier Sarah, a petite shy wisp of a girl, was getting ready to leave for the day and had used the intercom system to page for a drawer count before handing off her register to the next cashier. Henry stood patiently in line just watching the employees scurry around. And that's when you appeared. A door across from the front end flew open and you came rushing out, a separate till braced on your hip and a set of keys dangling off your wrist.

“Good afternoon folks, sorry for the delay. I just have to count down this till real quick and we’ll get right back to scanning your orders alright?” you said to the few people in Sarah's line with a gentle smile. They all seemed to hum or grunt in response as they were absorbed in their phones anyway. Henry however, locked eyes with you and made it a point to say “Take your time sweetheart.”.

You tore your eyes from the hulking man in front of you, fully aware (as was everyone else) of who he was. You pulled the till from the register and popped open all the little spring loaded arms that held the cash down. You set to work pulling each stack of money from their respective slots and began counting. You'd always been good with numbers, especially related to money, so it was easy for you. Your hands flew as you counted and in no more than five minutes you had the drawer counted and reset to its original $200 set up. You were so focused on the task at hand that you didn't notice Henry watching your every move, in awe of your speed and accuracy. The gears in his brain began to turn, coming up with an idea. You patted Sarah on the shoulder and told her she was good to go as you ushered the new cashier up to take her place. Grabbing the till you brought with you from the office, you flitted back to the room and disappeared from Henry’s sight as the door slammed closed.

After making his purchases, Henry stalked over to the door you vanished behind and knocked. He could hear muffled sounds of shuffling paper and rubber bands being snapped, no doubt tying together stacks of money. The tell tale sound of a safe slamming shut was the last sound before the door flung open and you appeared once again with a hand on your hip.

“Can I help you Mr.Cavill?” you asked, your tone a bit stern, to help mask your attraction to the beautiful man. Henry chuckled to himself before offering his hand to you, a business card wedged between his index and middle finger.

“Call me. I think i have a job for you.” was all he said before he turned and walked out the automatic doors at the front of the store. Damn. “I could bounce a quarter off that ass.” you thought to yourself.

You turned the card over in your hands and mumbled “Well, the pay cant be any worse than what I make now.” and the rest was history.

-Present Day -

The room in Henry’s home that you worked in was large with a heavy door that contained a high tech locking mechanism, and a large security guard right outside of said door. The big redwood table you did your work at was covered from end to end with stacks of cash. Henry had stocked the room with everything you'd need to keep his money in order and to balance the books of his “operation”. You didn't know what the operation was and you never cared to ask, as long as your direct deposit hit your account by 8 am every friday morning. His business was none of your business unless there was a money issue. And today, for the first time, there was a money issue.

You ran the numbers in your head over and over and over as you banded the bills together. There was money missing, you were sure of it, but you couldn't figure out where it had gone. You had triple counted every bundle of money that was given to you and it all added up to be about $100,000 short of what it should have been.

You set to counting the money for the fourth time just to be sure when you heard the muffled yet distinct voices of Henry and his two closest “employees” (if you could call them that) coming down the hall towards your room. You paid them no mind as the door opened, and kept working at the task at hand.

“Good afternoon sweetheart! How are we today?” Henry greeted you with a lighthearted tone. You two often playfully bantered, him swearing that if he wasn't such a bad man he’d sweep you off your feet and make you his wife one day, and you responding with “You wouldn't know what to do with me Cavill.” before going about your separate days. But today, you had no time or patience to entertain the bear of man.

“Someone is shorting you.” You said as the money continued to fly through your hands. “E-excuse me?” Henry questioned with a scoff. “You heard what i said. You're $100,000 short.” You continued without looking at him, focused and zeroed in on your task. “You're wrong. You've got to be wrong!” he bellowed at you, hands braced on the other side of the table, his lackies trying and failing to calm him.

You stopped counting. Your eyes snapped up to meet his as you slammed the stack of money you were counting onto the shiny wood of the table. You rose from your seat and matched his stance, palms flat on the surface of the table. Leaning forward you hissed, “I’m wrong? I'M wrong? I’m gonna tell you why i'm NOT wrong. I’m not wrong, because I'm NEVER wrong. I can’t afford to be wrong. More importantly YOU can't afford for me to be wrong. If i had a track record for being wrong, I wouldn't have a fucking job. So maybe have Crabbe and Goyle over there, ” you jabbed your finger in the direction of the two men with him, “look into it.”

Henry cracked a small smile as your chest heaved and your skin burned with anger. How dare he doubt you?! You would never make such a monumental mistake! And now he was smiling?! This bastard really had a penchant for pissing you off today.

“Crabbe and Goyle? Does that make me Draco Malfoy then?” Henry asked lowly, smile spreading across his stupid beautiful face. You couldn't help it and you started to smile too, but you bit your lip to stop yourself. “Tsk tsk tsk, no no no dear. None of that.” He murmured reaching across the rest of the distance between you two to brush the pad of his thumb over your lower lip, tugging it out from between your teeth. The action only stoked the fire building in your belly.

“I'm sorry I doubted you. I should have known better, that you would have been smart enough to double even triple count the money before coming to me about the issue. I'm sorry love. I am.” He apologized, hand over his heart as he came around to your side of the table, leaning against the edge. You crossed your arms over your chest and rolled your eyes as he tutted at you and extended his arms to pull you toward him by your waist.

“Crabbe. Goyle. Out.” Henry snapped without turning to look at the men who were now scurrying out of the room. As he drew you in closer you planted your hand against his chest. The confusion in his eyes evident, assuming he read the energy of the room wrong. You quickly rectified his confusion by leaning in and planting wet open mouthed kisses on his neck, all the way to the shell of his ear.

There was no mistaking the groan and shudder that ran through that dangerous man’s body when you spoke softly into his ear. “Now. Let's talk about your punishment for doubting me. You'll be a good boy for me, won't you darling?”

THE END

[astringofmadhousefloozies]

Hobbies and Holidays, Or The Halloween Fic

Yes, I know it’s June. I just like Halloween, man. Yuu’s quiet dedication to the finest of holidays sours when confronted with assholes who fuck around for clout.

Contains coarse language, attempted violence, sexuality and nerds being nerds. As always, if you enjoyed it or have any questions, let me know! I like talking with people.

~*~*~*~

"What's cooking?" Ace, cheery as could be, walked his way up towards your set up on the Ramshackle front lawn. "Is it curry? I hope it's curry."

"You might not want to stand downwind." You poked at the bubbling mess on the propane stove, sweat rolling down your back. A beautiful August day, perfect for your project. This sure as hell wasn't something you wanted to do indoors.

"Whaddya mean by that?" The breeze shifted towards him, and he turned an impressive shade of green, stumbling back with his nose covered. "What's in there?"

"Mice. I told you to keep upwind." You went in with a hand strainer, and scooped a pile of tiny bones onto a ratty towel.

"Why are you boiling mice?" 

You mirrored his are-you-goddamned-stupid-or-something face back at him. "I wanted the bones. I went to Sam, but he said he's not allowed to order in dermestid beetles after last time, so I gotta do it the old-fashioned way."

"That's absolutely disgusting,” her said, the disgust and disbelief plain on his face.

"Don't we all know. Grimm fucked right off when the ghosts showed me the mouse graveyard."

"And your first thought at a pile of rotten mice was 'ooo, free bones' like some kinda crazy necromancer?"

"Yup." You scooped out another pile of bones. If you left them in there too long, they'd simply dissolve like in a cooked fish. As it was, you'd have to find a way to strengthen them. Maybe dip them in resin?

"Why am I your friend, again?"

"Because you feel responsible for me."

"Yeah. And you're fun when you aren't being weird and doing shit like taking cemetery pictures."

"I'll stop taking the pictures when I stop finding good grave iconography."

"Yeah, weird. I'm going to leave you to be a gross little maggot by yourself today."

"I'm not eating them."

"They're stewing in a pot."

"To get the meat off!"

"Yeah, whatever. See you at supper. I hope you don't stink."

"We'll find out, won't we?" you muttered, sotto voce, but he was already gone.

~*~*~*~

It was a beautiful day in September, and you heard him far before he knew you had. When you turned to look at Idia, floss wound around your fingers, he started. "Is my stealth that bad?"

You gave him the ghost of a smile. "You're not as quiet as you think you are." He hasn't cottoned on that you can hear what's in his headphones, if they aren't set just right on his head, and you aren't about to tell him. The face he makes when you pick him out so easily was too good to lose.

He nodded, fidgeted, looked at the spread on the table. "What are you doing?"

"Well, she's got to dry. So I'm working on this pattern until the top coat goes on."

'She' was a currently eyeless, disembodied head, that you'd picked up along with her body in a second hand store for a pittance. You'd unstrung her, scrubbed her clean, and now were putting on a face to match her sweet if imperious expression, a bratty princess of a girl in miniature. You hadn't realized you'd liked dolls until you'd seen her. But, when you had, your breath fled your throat in the same way it had only once since coming here.

He looked, but knew better than to touch. He did a little bit of craft work himself, mostly model painting, and wasn't about to muss your hard work. "She's... nice?" He didn't quite get the appeal, despite having two vinyl dolls you knew of stowed carefully in their packages under his bed. When you'd asked, he just muttered that they were anime characters and didn't come out except for photos because something something collectibles something resale value. Boys.

"I could do better. But it's enough. Thank you for letting me borrow the painting set up."

"Y... welcome." He squinted at the embroidery, finally noticing something. "Are those bones?"

In the center of each withered, poisonous blossom in your embroidery hoop, you'd stitched a tiny vertebra to serve as the center. "Yeah?"

"Why?"

"Why not?"

He wasn't ready to push it any further. "If you want..." He hesitated, and stumbled, and you waited until he just brought out his tablet to tap it out on a screen instead. "You can come do that in Board Game Club, if you want. There's a window. Azul shouldn't mind."

"I'll join you after I gear up and put the sealant on her. Thank you for inviting me." You gave him your best, most dazzling smile. "You know how much I like when you include me in your stuff. I know it's not always easy for you; how shy you are and all."

He squeaked and looked away, and you continued. "I should be there in about an hour. Make sure Azul doesn't keep up trying to wager me in chess. I can't fucking play worth a damn and he knows it."

He smirked. "He likes easy marks. Maybe try and get goo-"

You flicked a bone at him, and it hit him square on the nose as he yelped.

~*~*~*~

Welcome, October. Coolness and colour, a certain something on the breeze that felt like a home you'd never let go. Even if it hadn't quite hit the dorms the same way as they main area of the school. (Those little fairies that ran the weather machine didn't seem to believe in seasons for the dorms, or perhaps Crowley gave them a chewing out after the spring?) In amongst the Heartslabyul roses, you'd think it was still summer, and you weren't one to let a day of warmth go.

"Oh, in this chapel of ritual, smells of dead human sacrifices from the altar..."

"Stop that."

You looked up at Riddle, who'd found you in your secluded corner. "Why?"

"You can't sing and the lyrics are awful."

"Is there a rule against that?"

He nodded. "The queen gets to approve all music."

"Ah, of course, mine rosen liege. My petaled monarch. Emperor Rosa." A collar appeared on your neck, and you did not slow down. "Cardiac Sovereign. Dauphine De la Coeur. I can do this all day, Riddle; that collar don't do shit cause I ain't magic."

The colour was high on his cheeks. "Is it your job to annoy me?"

"Oh, you got me. I wake up and spend every moment thinking 'How do I best piss off Riddle Roseheart? How about I stand outside his door and blast nightcore from a boombox?' "

He narrowed his eyes at you. "Stop joking."

You laughed. "Yeah. I only do that with Shoenheit."

That managed to get a bit of a smile out of him. "Why are you being a pest over here, and not at your own dorm?"

"I'm just doing crafts, man."

"While sitting on the grass."

"Yeah, man. Won't be any grass to sit on soon enough. Made sure to not be on the croquet grounds or anything."

He looked at the mess of foam and ribbon around you. "What are you even doing?"

You looked down, and back up at him. "Crafts?"

"More specifically, before I kick you out for being awful."

You held up a padded frame, that you were carefully wrapping a satin ribbon around the many bars of it. "What does that look like?"

He just glared instead of admitting he didn't know, so you got to your feet and held the frame over your chest, the shape clarifying by being pressed over what it mimicked. "It's ribs. It'll tie on with more ribbon. Might put beads and stuff on it too."

He looked for a beat before nodding. "For later this month?"

"Indeed."

"... Continue, then. But be quiet!" 

He was nice enough to remove the collar before he left, but not nice enough to leave it off as soon as you resumed singing to yourself once you'd assumed he was out of earshot.

~*~*~*~

"Hey, Lil?”

"Yeah?"

You looked over the riot of cheery pumpkins and Far East aesthetics that had sprung from your lawn. "You should've asked me, first."

Lil smiled at you. "But then you would have said no."

"I wouldn't have. But," you guestured to the papier mache dragon, "Really, my dude? This isn't what I would have picked at all. I'm not going to match."

"You're working on a costume? Already?" He lit up. "What's it going to be?"

"You'll see."

"Do I get a costume?"

You looked down at your not-cat. "Grimm, I didn't think you'd want one."

"I do now!" He scrambled to your shoulder and tugged at your hair, wailing. "Costume! Costume!"

You rolled your eyes. "Stop that, before I sell you to Lil to practice recipes on."

~*~*~*~

Grimm was no help. He changed his mind every few minutes on what he wanted. At least your incorporeal roommates were a sweet help, finally gearing him up with a hat by the beginning of the week.

"Do you still need one, Yuu?" The middling ghost, the one neither plump nor skeletal, seemed concerned.

"No, babe. I've been working on this since..." August, you think. "I'm good. I hope I can get a week out of it. I could at least do a different face each day."

Realization dawned across his face. "That's what that was for? I see. I guess you won't need..."

Oh, he made you a costume. Layers and layers of rotten gauze from the curtains, a spindrift take on the bedsheet ghost. 

"Hey, I can use this, don't worry. Can you stoke the fire? I've got to dye this to match, I'll need some water boiled."

~*~*~*~

There's too many fucking people. You don't know any of them, they're loud, and they cram in wherever you need to go. But their fussing over you, their asking for pictures is nice. If only...

"Hey, are you lost, kid?" You lean down and reach a hand out to a fearful-looking six-year-old. "I can help you find someone who can help?"

He promptly burst into tears and collided into Floyd as he ran away.

"Hey there itty bitty. You need an adult? Hold on." Even with Floyd... being Floyd, he was a hell of a more welcome sight to the kid, and soon had him balanced on a shoulder to yell for his parents. "Who's under all that?"

"Your favourite shrimp, you overgrown string bean."

Floyd make an o of surprise and flicked the veil up. "It is you under all that! See, kid, She's not scary. She's pretty."

The kid simply eyed him dubiously before going back to trying to wave his parents down to get away from these lunatics.

All your hard work paid off beautifully. A mass of bones, beads and decay, a beautifully jeweled skeleton crowned with a fine halo of gold-and-bone spines and dried flowers. You rattled gently with every step, eyes staring out from a painted skull. They only thing you regretted was Riddle catching you earlier. Even if he hadn't intentionally steered it that way himself, everyone would assume you'd intentionally went to match Heartslabyul. Even more, now that you'd turned those curtains into a veil, even if you'd stuck all the bone and garnet drops you could onto the edges.

"Thank you, Floyd." You leaned up towards the kid. "Didn't mean to scare you, little darling."

The kid just stared at you in fear, and fortunately his parents came along to claim him, leaving you and Floyd by yourself.

"Shrimpie~" He'd scooped you up to replace the kid in his arms before you could protest. "You're so cute like this! Let's go to the alchemy room."

"What's in the alchemy room, Floyd." At this point you were used to him just... hauling you wherever. And you’d found that if you went along with the lighter end of it, he took you seriously when you said no. Weirdo he was, he'd at least gathered that you'd hang out willingly if he didn't push it.

"Oh, well you look so nice! You'll look much nicer in the water tube than the dummy we have in there."

"There are several reasons that can't work, Floyd. Least of it is I only breathe air."

"You're a ghost right now, you don't breathe at all."

"This outfit would not survive a dunking. I'm not sure it'll last the week if I don't repair it every night."

He kept smiling at you. "Even better! Wearing nothing at all on Halloween! Everyone would take even more pictures."

"Yeah yeah, and you have nothing at all in your room if I want to speed that up." You flicked his nose. "Put me down and we can walk over and check how it's going."

"Excuse me?" A stranger. "Can I take a picture of you and your boyfriend like that."

"I'm not her boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend. Go ahead though."

~*~*~*~

"What are you working on?"

Idia's voice was slightly muffled under the pumpkin head. "People kept calling my projection 'cute'. Idiots! They don't know the true fear of Pumpkin Hollow. So I'm adjusting the projection mapping so it's less cute, and more accurate."

"Hm. It seems fine to me as it is."

"You would think that. You don't care if there is a cuteness to things that are scary."

"There's beauty and sweetness in even death." You thought for a moment. "This is for that series you sat me down for? You got mad when I played with the toys?"

"Those. Are. Collecta-" he stopped when he whirled on you, faltering into silence. You really wished you could see the face he was making, he made such sweet faces, especially when he looked at you. You craved them, wanted him to look only at you with those expressions.

You smiled at him. "There's no use in leaving a toy in a box! I don't buy anything I don't intend to play with."

"Ah. Errrrrrrrrghhhmmm." He turned back to his work, took a deep breath, and turned back around. "You watched them, would you give me feedback?"

"Sure. Could you lean down a little?"

He did, and you carefully pulled off the pumpkin, revealing - nothing. No head at all.

You laughed. "Turn that off."

"Why?"

"I just opened your box. Time to play."

He made a strangled noise and started back, looking this way and that. "Right now? Anyone could come in!"

"Just for a moment! How can I give you a kiss if I can't see where I'm aiming?"

His head flickered into view, with a face full of mischief. "... Just one?"

~*~*~*~

"What happened to your makeup?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, model boy." You looked Vil up and down. "You're actually pretty hot like that. It's a miracle."

"Of course you would only find me attractive when I look like a corpse." He rolled his eyes hard enough to sprain. "Do I need to go lie down in a glass coffin too? Stay very still while you actually work up the courage to touch me?"

You snorted. "You wish I would touch you, you overblown jackass."

"With you looking like that? I'd die."

"Bite me, asshole."

"You'd like it if I did."

Your tone grew playful. "Is that a promise for later?"

"Ugh." His shudder was too exaggerated to be anything but an act. "Go ask your ugly little playmate for a bite, we all know what gross shit you get up to."

"You're just mad it's not you."

He pointed a perfectly manicured nail at your painted nose. "You're just mad I want nothing to do with you."

"Then why are you even talking to me?"

"I- why am I talking to you. Go away."

You did, but not before pulling on his cape to wrinkle it.

~*~*~*~

You had a dreadful feeling things were about to get worse. Call it intuition, or paranoia. But with any luck, that would change after a good night's sleep.

(It did not.)

~*~*~*~ These fuckers were getting exhausting. What a grand idea, picking unknown flowers to stick in your hair for selfies! That wasn't an excellent way to come down with a hideous case of contact poisoning at all. You had to swat one girl's hand away from a bed of monkshood, reciting symptoms of aconite poisoning at her until she stalked off in a huff. 

And futzing around with the decorations! The only reason you didn't outwardly congratulate Leona on trying to rip apart a bunch of tourists was that murder is supposed to be bad, no matter how irritating and disrespectful the murder victims were. Even you knew better than to go around fondling random ears and tails! 

(That's why you'd made the anatomy books in the library your friends. Far more polite than going up to a fellow student and saying, "May I feel around your skull for a few hours to satisfy my scientific curiosity? No one at home has ears like that and I'm very curious about the underlying muscle structures." )

Better see what's going on everywhere else.

~*~*~*~

You got up in tiptoe and lightly touched his arm. "Hey, Floyd?"

"??? Yes, Shrimpie?" His face instantly brightening, he dropped the absolutely delighted Magicammer he'd had pressed to the shelf and turned to you, leaning in as you crooked your finger.

You whispered in his ear, "Why waste magic on them when you can do so much more with your fists?"

He shone like the sun as he pressed his cheek to yours in lieu of something more intimate. "You always know just what to do."

~*~*~*~

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE."

The crowd of idiots instead turned on you with flash photography. "Another ghost! This'll get so many likes!"

"I MEAN IT!" Blinking away the spots from your eyes and casting all good sense to the wind, you grabbed a fire poker from inside your bedroom door and started swinging. They laughed and clapped - and only stepped back when you got the damned thing stuck in the wall while taking a swing.

"What an excellent show!" And more. Fucking. Pictures. How in the fuck Vil deals with this shit without murdering everyone in a hundred-foot radius, you'd love to know.

"I SAID-" yank "GET THE FUCK-" yank "OUT OF MY HOUSE!" The force of finally pulling the poker from the wall sent you careening onto your ass, and Grimm only stopped long enough to laugh at you before resuming his own ineffective charge. You stumbled to your feet, muttering. "Stupid little mother fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking fucking..."

"Oh, it's a chase game! Let's go!" And they all fucking scattered into different rooms as you watched them in disbelief.

"I am going to kill everyone in this building and then myself for good measure."

~*~*~*~

"Leave."

"Aren't you going to scare me, Miss Ghost?" This last idiot was joyfully skipping around a bedroom that you'd had the ghosts empty out, nattering into her phone. A livestream, you think.

You're in you goddamned pajamas. "Sure. We don't use this room because the floor's not sound. Get the fuck out and leave before you fall through to the next floor."

The girl instead started to hop in place. "Oooooo, so scary! You'll have to try better than that!"

You rushed her. You probably would have throttled her (and wound up with a new ghostly roommate in the process) but as she backed up, your leg went through the floor where she'd weakened it, which left her cackling. 

"You weren't kidding! Bye now!" And she just fucking left you there like the wretched asshole she was.

~*~*~*~

"I'm so sorry, Yuu."

"Nothing to be sorry about, Mal."

He rested his head on your bare knee and looked up at you. "If I hadn't picked your home as a stamp location, people wouldn't be invading this dorm, and you wouldn't have been injured."

"You fixed me up, didn't you?" He was the one who had pulled you rightways, and shut the scratches on your leg. Of course, he could have left your socks on to do that, but hey, those had been fixed too. You reached down and put your hand on his cheek, rubbing circles by his eye while he stared up at you like an adoring dog.

"This was supposed to be fun for you, so you could have a perfect Halloween."

"That's still a few days away yet. There's still time. And hey."

He blinked up at you as you leaned your face in close, flushing faintly as you did. "Any luck, we'll all make it to November without assault charges."

~*~*~*~

"Yuu?"

You subconsciously growled like a rabid animal as you turned to Lilia with your eye twitching.

"By all the queen's powers." He shrank back. "You alright?"

"Magimons broke the lock on our bedroom and shook her awake last night." Grimm was, by some miracle, in a better mood than you; content to be a comforting weight in your arms and be your anger translator.

"They took," you added, "my groceries."

Lil looked at you in blank shock. "What about the wards on your doors?"

"That's for magic, not fucking morons with no sense of personal space." If you made it through 'til November without actually biting someone's throat out and getting put down like a mad dog, you'd be sincerely surprised. "You of all people should know that."

"Hey, I put them back up after I drop in. You want to go sit with Malleus today? I think you need it."

"Nope. If I snap at him he'll take it to heart. Or just kill everyone who's not staff or student because they upset me."

"No he wouldn't."

"We both know he would."

"He would not because that would be bad press for the kingdom."

"... well, damned if I ever though I'd say this, but thank god for politics."

~*~*~*~

You stare at the empty plinths as everyone started yelling and scrambling. You look to the rubble of the statues, the bases, to Cater, and back to the rubble, nudging what may have once been a staff with you toe.

"And it's not even for a fucking political movement."

~*~*~*~

"Yuu, if we can get rid of the magicam monsters, we can have the party!" Grimm smiled up at you, all sharp teeth and blue eyes. "Aren't you happy?"

You didn't have the heart to tell him that at this point, you'd rather they'd just cancel everything and simply sleep through till All Saint's. Fuck your costume work. Fuck the party. Fuck everything. If you see another jack o lantern you will smash it. Fuck this holiday. You're so tired.

"Yuu, do you have ideas on how to drive the magicam monsters away?"

You stared past Cater's ear because you didn't feel like looking anyone in the face. "Tried to brain a few with a fire poker. Th'just thought it was funny."

This was met with the sound of air sucked through teeth, and a warm hand on your shoulder. "Come with me please!" And Ortho pulled you away with the force of a vaudeville hook.

"You're having a very bad time!" So sweet, so earnest. Right now he was the only person here who could be that chipper and you not want to put their nose out the back of their skull.

You gave him a weary smile. "What was your first clue, honey."

"She keeps kicking in her sleep. When she sleeps. And she's all snappy and horrible!"

You gave Grimm a single light warning shake. "Shut up, Grimm."

"Would you like to stay over so that you can rest properly?" He was hovering directly in front of your face. "Maybe if you're somewhere you won't be woken up, you'll feel better."

You raised an eyebrow and stared over at Idia, who was trying very hard to pay attention to both your conversation and his. "Shouldn't you clear that with someone first?"

Ortho rolled his eyes, the effect on his little boy face frankly hilarious. "Oh, he'd be so upset you have you over. Deeply so. He wouldn't get a wink of sleep with you there." He leaned in. "Except he would, because you wouldn't do anything to keep him up with me there, would you?"

You wheezed. "You think so little of me, Ortho."

"I like you very much even if what you both get up to is gross."

"Of every boy in this school, Yuu. You picked that one."

Ortho glared down at Grimm. "That is my brother you're talking about."

"Stop it. Can we check back in?"

~*~*~*~

"So we're going to run round and scare the piss out of them?"

Jade nodded. "That is the idea, yes."

"... Can I help?"

"Of course, Yuu." Jade smiled his smile that didn't reach more than a millimetre beneath his eyes. "But we've agreed you can't have any blunt objects. For everyone's safety. And the school's reputation, of course.."

"... Yeah, that's for the best."

~*~*~*~

"Can you guys watch Grimm for the evening?"

"Of course." Mal beamed at you from his seat on the Ramshackle steps. "Where will you be that he doesn't want to be?"

"I don't like the horse."

"You ride horses?" Idia was sitting between Mal's legs as Malleus carefully arranged the bright hair into a high ponytail.

"Epel taught me." You paused for a minute. "Do you?"

"Mother made me learn. I haven't in years."

"Makes sense." He didn't like the outdoors, after all. "Mal, how'd you convince him to let you touch his hair? He only lets me do that in private."

"It will look nicer coming out of his pumpkin helmet if arranged higher." Mal crooked his mouth and dragged his lacquered nails along Idia's scalp, making a soft noise when Idia gasped, shivered and abruptly stood up.

"Nope nope nope nope no more of that-"

"May I at least put the elastic in?" Mal held up a black band. "It's fireproof."

He instead snatched it and ran for the library as fast as he could without cracking the armour. You and Mal watched him leave.

"Hm."

"Mal?"

He was still watching the blue light vanish into the distance. "I think I can see the appeal." His dreamy smile gained a sharp edge. "What a delicious sound."

You snickered. "God, I know, right? You should hear some of the other ones I've got out of him."

"You're both disgusting."

~*~*~*~

You hadn't worked out an actual story for this one, just your ghostly roommates and Grimm telling everyone to leave the statues alone. But some asshole, wearing aviator shades and the ugliest piecemeal hoodie you'd ever seen, mounted a plinth to start taking selfies. And once that started, more got the idea, and joined him, trying to nudge the statue away to make room.

So, that's where you came in, pulling into sight at the end of the drive, in tarnished gilt and rotten splendor, jeweled Death on a pale horse.

Sunglasses looked at you and froze, before snapping another picture.

Fucking pictures. You're so sick of pictures.

You snapped the reins and nudged your heels, and who knew anyone on two legs could move that fast? Though potentially being run down by a warhorse was great motivation to move thine arse, as it were. And, thank god, everyone else booked it out the gate after him. 

It only took a little maneuvering to lock the gate while still up on a pale horse named Beans, and now? Time to take him to his stable and go the fuck to sleep. Maybe through past tomorrow. Fuck Halloween.

~*~*~*~

You were riding your merry way when a familiar voice called out to you. "You dropped some loot!"

"What did I lose, Idia?" His little speakers mimicking the clang of armour were working overtime as he jogged up beside you. Once he reached you, he held up... a shoe.

"Huh." You looked down, and you had indeed lost a shoe while charging down a bunch of Magicam-obsessed assholes on a warhorse. "Thank you." That's when you gave Idia a level gaze, and stuck you leg out at him.

He swallowed back his noise of shock, and shaking, took your stockinged foot and slid the shoe back into place. 

"Good boy."

He was turning from shell pink to a deep red that rivaled the roses in Heartslabyul. But that didn't mean he didn't know how to keep playing when emotions were high. Before letting go, he leaned down and kissed the top of your foot.

Now it was your turn to go red; a wonder the painted skull didn't simply melt off of your face.

~*~*~*~

"Shrimpie~"

You took a breath and prepared yourself. Scoopsies was inevitable.

True to form, Floyd had his whole conversation with you in a bridal carry. "We're gonna have the party!~ We chased them all away!~"

"That's..." Honestly, despite all the rage and pain this week had caused, you were rather happy about the news. "Nice."

"Ah - where'd your face go?" He leaned in, and you stopped him from getting too close with a finger pressed to his lips.

"I didn't feel up to wearing everything." Your embroidered gown and painted skull was replaced with a simple back veil and black dress. "I kind of hate this whole holiday right now and I'm ready to kick the next pumpkin I see."

He nodded, kissing your fingertip as he did. "I can help you after. But we need this all for the parade." He brightened. "You should paint up and get on the horse again for it!" He smiled, full of dreamy fondness and not a small amount of hunger. "I heard what you did to the magicam monsters... I wish I could have seen."

"Hey, I heard you didn't do too badly yourself." You leaned in conspiratorially. "Anyone pee themselves?"

He smiled like the sun post-eclipse. "Yup!"

~*~*~*~

Epel had been nice enough to help you kit out Beans in a fancy black harness, so in amongst the crowd of costumed students, you were both equally eye-catching. And hell, pictures weren't so bad right now. People were keeping a distance, murmuring to each other as they aimed their cameras. You thought you were getting a dirty look or two from Vil for stealing his thunder, but he had himself on the prow of a ship! It wasn't comparable.

"So," you said, leaning down a little, "How are you handling this?"

Idia looked up at you, you thought. "The mask makes it easy. They're looking at the costume, not me."

"I'm glad it helps. I wish you'd take it off, but you being comfortable is more important."

"What? You want me to ruin the effect by taking the mask off? Clearly you have no respect for the holiday." His voice had the sweet, bubbling quality that came when he was excited and happy, and it warmed you to hear it.

"Oh, no, of course not. But why would I want to taste a plastic kiss,” you said, reaching a hand down to run the trailing ribbon of his hair through your fingers, “when I could taste you instead?"

You had to give him credit, he only faltered for a moment before continuing. "Right now? In front of everyone?"

"I would if you'd let me, right now." You lowered your voice. "And worse."

He stifled a groan and only walked funny for another ten minutes.

~*~*~*~

"I thought you didn't like horses." The stables were in sight, but Idia had turned up, surprising you.

He rolled his eyes, and held his arms out. "Dismount, fair maiden."

What.

"I mean it. Your Pumpkin Knight awaits."

You shook your head, voice soft. "Baby, no."

"I'm trying to be romantic. Like your novels."

"Idia."

He stared back at you, sour-faced. "What."

"I outweigh you by at least sixty pounds."

"I can do this. I carry Ortho around all the time."

"Ortho's chassis is mostly fibreglass and aluminum. I can carry Ortho. I think Grim could carry Ortho."

He took a step forward. "Do you want me to leave you on the horse or not."

"His name is Beans." But, you managed to dismount into Idia's arms, where he stood stock-still and trembling.

"Kkc."

"Babe? Put me down before your back goes out."

His knees gave out first, and he crumpled beneath you as you both yelped.

"You alright?"

"hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh"

You crawled off his chest and he could actually breathe again.

"Better?"

After a few breaths, he managed a weak smile. "Maybe kiss it better."

Beans beat you to it, snuffling at Idia's face to make sure he wasn't dead.

~*~*~*~

You are not much of a party person. You like them, but the ideal party is a few friends hanging around in the same room, chatting at a reasonable volume and then going home to go the fuck to sleep. This was a little much.

But you know what this party had that you hadn't seen in what felt like years? Cute girls. In cute costumes! You've been flirting your ass off, with decent success; it turns out that the Magicam Live you did with Vil weeks ago had paid off in the form of smiles and fluttered eyelashes as girls crowded around you to hear tales of how fucking obnoxious you could be in this school and get away with it because you had friends in high places.

At least, until you caught something out of the corner of your eye, and you stopped. "Hey, I gotta check on someone - raise your hand if you like boys. Okay, you see -" You stopped and pointed at your poor, unsuspecting target. "With the blue-black hair and the painted spade? That's Deuce, he doesn't know how to talk to girls worth a damn, so give him some slack. But he's a sweetheart, you won't regret it."

"What about the redhead?"

"Ace is a prick but he's delightful. Chat him up too." With that, you went to check on Idia, huddled into a corner after an attempted force-feeding.

"You alright, babe?"

He nodded. "They're too much. But I'm alright now."

You leaned back against a nearby chair, looking him up and down. "You sure you aren't going to eat anything? I don't think anyone's going to care too much if you have your face out."

He remained completely still, and you realized you could hear a faint whirring.  "Idia. Have you been using the robot double all evening."

"... I swapped out ten minutes ago."

You made a noise and he flinched. "I was going to swap back in after it calmed down!"

"... No you weren't."

"Okay, no I wasn't. But I was there for a while. I have proof, I brought plates back with me."

"You could have just told me. It's been a hell of a lot for you, I know what you're like."

Idia - well, his robotic avatar - shrugged. "If you're going to lecture me... come by and do it here."

You stopped. "You really want me to yell at you in person?"

"I want you to come by. If you want. You can stay as long as you want... if you want. I have snacks, and movies, and games that even you could play."

You snorted. "Oh, the siren call of a fucking nerd trying so hard to woo his chosen..."

"I changed my mind actually, you can't come."

"Aww."

"... That's a lie." He paused. "You can even take the Yume Twins out."

Those vinyl dolls he never let you touch. You throw your veil back and kissed the stupid plastic pumpkin head. "It's a date."

~*~*~*~

"Yuu?"

You peered at Malleus from around a stack of Tupperware. "Mal?"

"You.. enjoyed it all, despite everything?"

"Despite everything." You hefted the stack towards him. "Would you like to help? I want to grab stuff from the party that'll keep at room temperature."

He absently flicked a finger, sending the dishes swirling around to settle in a stack in midair, before placing a hand on your shoulder. "I have a... request."

"Anything," you said, and you regretted saying it as his breath hitched.

"Would you..." His voice faltered, and instead he simply wrapped you in a tight embrace, leaning down to bury his nose in your hair. You could feel him, chest heaving, scenting your greased hair through tulle, murmuring something against your scalp.

"Malleus."

He stopped, but did not move.

"No spells."

"You would not forgive me if I tried." You could feel his smile against your hair.

"I would not." You pulled back enough to look at him, and nearly froze at his besotted gaze before he schooled it into his more usual face. "Mal, you know you only feel this strong because I'm your first friend, right?"

"Does it matter? It is sincere."

And that makes it so much worse. "You know I don't feel about you like that."

"..." The grief that flickered across his face was enough to shatter a stone heart. "To stand with you and hold you is enough."

And they said fairies can't lie. They could, they were just terrible at it.

"You said you were going to ask for something?"

"... Not anymore. I doubt you would give it."

He vanished into thin air in a swirl of wind, and the Tupperware clattered to the steps, the spell holding them gone.

~*~*~*~

The nice thing about Idia's room is that, being a prefect, he had an attached bathroom to scrub the paint off of your face. It was a monochrome murder in the sink, splatters of grey with the occasional pinprick of red where you'd disturbed the new bumper crop of pimples from painting up as a skull for a week. Thank fuck that was over with. Even if the day proper had been lovely, the events of the week had thoroughly soured you on Halloween.

"You alright?" Idia poked his head in, long since divested of armour.

"Yup. How'd you get that shit off so fast? You got a suiting-up machine hidden somewhere?"

"It's less complicated than you'd think. Cosplay magic."

"That's nice. Unbutton me."

"... wha."

You looked at him via the mirror, meeting his wide eyes and shimmying in place. "Unbutton me. I can't reach them all myself."

"How'd you get that on every day?" He hesitantly walked behind, eyeing the row down your back as though it would burn him at the touch.

"I have roommates, remember?"

"Mmh." He finally undid the first three, before flicking his gaze back to yours in the mirror. "A... Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't ask, otherwise." You kept looking, as he took a breath and resumed. "Idia."

He paused.

"Keep going, I'm just going to chat at you for a bit." Two more. "You know I..." How to phrase this. "I don't intend to stay mint on card forever, you know. You can take me out and play."

He twitched, but kept going. "Maybe I don't want to damage you. There's only one of you, after all."

"I'm not so breakable." You had one side of you face completely clear, the other still smeared grey in the creases. "Would you rather stay mint condition, yourself?"

"..." He took a moment to gather himself, staring at the exposed skin of your back. "Maybe I want to... admire a bit. Get to know my- your- Uh."

You waited with a soft smile, until he found the words. "No one said you have to play straight away when you take something out of the package. Right?" He placed an experimental hand on the expanse of flesh between bra band and waistband, and did not draw away.

"Right."

"... Maybe I just want to hold you a bit before we play."

What a sweet boy you had. "Take all the time you need to. Even if we never play like that, I like you. Spending time with you is what I want."

You could see the motes of pink flickering through his hair. "Can I hold you now?"

"Of course."

He slid his hands under your dress, around your waist - then grabbed your soft, flabby tummy in both hands and squeezed. "Soft~"

You squealed with laughter. "What are you doing?"

"It's bare skin that's neutral territory," he huffed, before hugging your back to him and resting his chin on your shoulder. "And it's warm, too."

"Not so much as you. Keep me warm, will you? It's getting so damned cold at night."

He buried his face in your hair. "I can do that."

~*~*~*~

You woke to someone banging at the door.

"Son of a bitch." You managed to free yourself from Idia's sleeping grasp and make it to the door as a familiar voice started up. "Shroud, your tin can brother's already helping with clean-up, if you skip out because of a stupid game I will-"

You opened the door and looked levelly into Vil's face, which twisted in surprise. He gave you a once over (unshaved legs, mussed hair, boxer briefs from the men's section and a blue-black striped shirt that was clearly not yours) and then peeked over your shoulder at Idia (dead asleep, smiling faintly, possibly naked under the blankets). He kept looking between the two of you with increasing disbelief and horror, until he stepped back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Good for you."

"Thanks." Your face still hadn't changed.

"It's twelve thirty. If you're not both out helping clean up by three, I'm telling everyone."

"That's not much of a threat."

"Maybe to you. Shroud!"

Idia shuddered awake, bleariness washed away by terror as he saw Vil in the door and covered himself in the blankets.

"Be out helping cleanup by three or I'm telling everyone exactly why you're late." With that, he stalked off and you shut the door, mirroring his nose pinch.

"Dramatic bastard, ain't he? Even when he's being nice."

"How is that nice?" He only stopped shivering when you sat back down on the bed.

"Two and a half hours, Idia."

He blinked at you.

"How much can we do in two and a half hours?"

Realization dawned, and he started snickering as he dragged you in close.

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

Behind The Fence

-3- The Brunch

Summary: You want to drop Carig off at the Cody's premises, but get drawn in to join the family brunch.

Pairing: female!OFC x Craig Cody

Content warnings: Explicit language, a tiny hint of smut so 18+

You can read Part 2 here!

I pulled up into the well known driveway. Nothing really seemed to have changed here. With the push of my elbow I woke up Craig, who dozed off next the me in to passenger seat.

"C'mon, we're there." I told him, as I expected him to lift his seatbelt. Slowly he rose to conscious, wiped his eyes, but didn't bother to move a finger.

"Are you sure you don't want to say Hi?"

"Yeah...I am." I stated firmly, with my hands around the steering wheel.

Pouting, Craig made his way out of my car.

"Really?" He stressed his question as long as possible.

"Man...get your ass in there!" I snapped back and pulled the car door shut myself.

Eager to get myself out of the surroundings I started the engine. The electric fence in front of Craig and me opened. Apparently his family had been waiting on him. I had the reverse gear at the ready, but something... much rather someone kept me from driving off.

Deran, Craig's younger brother, was waiting behind the fence. I would've expected Janine, but not necessarily him.

Instead of looking at his brother he stared right at me, his expression somewhere between excitement and disbelief.

Obvious excitement to see me, but utter disbelief to the fact that it was Craig who brought me back to the scene. He waved me a "Hey!" and I shut down the car engine. From the corner of my eye I saw Craig shrugging his shoulders just before I noticed Drean walking in my direction.

"Oh...fuck me..." I muttered to myself, swiping the seatbelt aside and stepping out of my car. Deran was practically running at me and I caught him up for an almost bear like hug. He didn't say a thing, but I could feel that he was almost exploding with happiness to see me. After this somewhat unexpected hug lasted for a few seconds, Deran finally opened up his mouth :"Man...Smurf told us you'd come, but I still couldn't believe it."

Oh...she did? How come I even thought to get out of this smoothly?

"Yeah, well....", I stuttered "I'll explain it later, okay?"

"Sure! Baz is really stoked on seeing you again, too!"

Oh...oh really? Great...

Without having a choice I followed Deran and Craig around the premises.

Craig all of a sudden didn't appear to be all that pleased, which I didn't pay too much attention to.

As soon as we arrived at the yard I had everybody staring at me. "Uhm...hey..." I muttered, not really knowing how to behave at all.

"Great to see you, Lilly!" Baz shouted out with his pure McDreamy smile.

"Nice..to...see you too." I stuttered, while Craig and Deran took their seat.

"Don't be shy, sweety." Janine chimed in "Take a seat. Thank you for bringing back the lost son." She threw a stern look towards Craig, who wasn't bothered at all.

So I took the free seat between Baz and Pope. For sure not the ideal choice.

"How's Lena?" I asked towards Baz, just to get myself away from Andrew. Somehow this was the first thing I could come up with.

"Oh, she's growing faster that I can look!" he answered. "I can imagine that." I replied, twitching in my chair.

"Oh, hun, here have something for your nerves." Janine handed me some kind of cocktail, which appeared to be her favourite: vodka-cranberry. Almost thankful I cupped the glass with my hand and let my eyes wander around the table. I just could not fathom any of this.

"Craig!", Janine scoffed at her son "Go get your girlfriend her plate." Rolling his eyes at all of us Craig got out of his chair and stepped into the kitchen behind.

"Listen...uhm..where not... like..."

"So, just back to fucking then, huh?" Pope threw in, nonchalantly as ever. Taking a big sip from the drink I felt myself blushing at that comment. It brought back memories that absolutely weren't meant to be thought of at a family brunch. Just to make it worse Smurf chuckled: "Oh, my boy must be worth the ride!"

For an agonisingly long second I had that picture of me screaming Craig's name while being pounded to oblivion from just hours ago flashing before my eyes.

"Could you all just not be total creeps for a minute?" Deran tried to ease up. With a silent nod I thanked him and turned towards Craig who came back from the kitchen, handing me a packed plate.

*******

The pool water around my feet felt nice and cooling. After the brunch I helped Janine taking care of the dishes and leftovers, before treating myself to a bit of pool time. Craig had taken a seat behind me with his feet dangling next to mine. It was comfortable sitting like this in the afternoon summer sun. I had to admit that I missed it quite a bit. With a soft sigh I leaned my back onto Craig's chest. "How's your shoulder doing?" I asked before he could ramble on about that I should stay the night. "It's okay.", he answered while stroking along my thigh "Not all too bad."

"Ever thought about apologising to Deran?"

"What for?" His hand wandered up, along the side of my body and across my arm to gently caress my collarbones and neck.

"Well..just maybe for doing coke in his bathroom stall?"

"Yeah...whatever...and maybe you should just stay here."

"Craig..." I sighed and looked up to him.

"Yeah...that's my name.", he chuckled and swept the hair away from my neck "Pretty please...don't just leave me with these crazies." He leand his face in an pressed a few delicate kisses just behind my ear. He knew I loved it when he did that.

"I can't...you know that."

"Why?" he pouted, stroking my ear with the tip of his nose.

"It wouldn't be any good and you know that.." I hummed in return.

"Everybody's happy to see you, babe. Deran is thrilled to show you around the bar and Baz is already in to grab Lena for the party tonight. Hell, even Pope smiled for once... I didn't even know he was able to do that."

Craig underlined his statement with a couple more kisses.

"What party?" I asked with closed eyes, enjoying the way how Craig so desperately tried to lull me in.

"Smurfs throwing a party for you...you wouldn't want to miss that, would you?" After being done playing with my hair, his hand went back onto my thigh and slowly slipped underneath the seam of my denim skirt. "And you wouldn't want to miss me burying my face down there after the party either, huh?"

"Given the circumstance that you're not too hammered, right?" I teased, withholding a slight moan as I felt his fingers lining my string.

"I'll make sure of that...gotta keep my baby girl happy and pleased.", Craig murmured into my ear "Oh my..are you that wet already?"

"Still am, sir." I answered, biting my lip at his sneaky touches.

"Seems like we should take care of that beforehand, nuh?"

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

Taglist:

@ysmmsy

@demotalias

[razorblade180]

Twin Snowflakes 27:Hill climbing preparations

Part 26 here!<-

Rehearsals were going well. With Darren out of mind and no further incidents, students had gotten back into a steady blow of progress. The band was a little shaky at first but Summer had learned that Nick had a point about her being a bit strict in the beginning. With that hurdle jumped, Summer felt comfortable enough to take a short break. Her feet swung from over the stage's edge like a kid on a swing while she took a moment to call Oscar. It had been a few days since their last check in date. The fact that he didn’t blow her fun up meant his own hands were full. Fortunately, two rings was all it took before his face popped up on her screen, covered in what was hopefully seawater.

“Hi Oscar! Ummm sea life treating you will? You look a little…”

“Wet? Sigh, I can’t believe I’m saying this but I miss the cold of the tundra. All the storms and aquatic grimm yanking me off the boat is getting annoying. Anyways, Penny told me you had a little scare recently? Everything okay?”

“Yes, I think.” Summer rubbed her face. “Well…as okay as things usually get. I do feel better than usual. I’ve gotten to perform quite a bit the last couple days.”

“Really? Did you take my advice by any chance?”

A guilty smile found its way on Summer’s face. She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Nah. I’ve just been singing a couple of covers and a few originals that anyone with a radio has heard. The lyrics in the journal are just that, in the journal. I actually wanted to talk to you about a trick Nick got me to try. You’ve actually mentioned it once before early on.”

“Is that so- woah!” Oscar yelped, nearly falling from the rock of the ship crashing through a wave. “Hehe. Sorry about that!”

“Everything okay over there? I can call later?”

“No it’s fine; just rough seas. That’s good though. Challenging waves and other harsh weather factors have been swelling for quite some time. You’re too young to remember this but Atlas was actually a bit warmer. Hot places were cooler and sailing wasn’t as wild.”

“I’ve heard about that in class. Don’t scientists think it might have something to do with magic being back?”

“Or the gods roaming through Remnant.” He smirked, confident about the latter theory. “Harsh conditions mean it’s difficult to press forward. As if the world itself is trying to keep things away. With a little luck, passing these hurdles are all the answers we need.”

Answers. Summer couldn’t begin to imagine having those. It was more terrifying than reliving if she had to be honest. She wouldn’t know what to do if the gods themselves didn’t know what to do. The only thing worse is them saying she couldn’t do anything.

“Let’s cross our fingers you aren’t on a boat for nothing. Speaking of Shiva, Nick talked me into entering my headspace willingly. I was even able to manifest a shovel in it!”

“A shovel?” Oscar quirked his head.

“Yeah it wasn’t the usual blue empty space. It waslake; the lake as a matter of fact. I chucked a shovel at Shiva and told her to start digging her grave.”

“Nick told you to do that!?”

“Weeeeeeell… he only told me to confront her with unwavering resolve in a way Veronica would. I’m pretty sure that meant being cut throat but I may have defaulted to cock intimidation. Pretty sure I stoked the flames of war. But it felt good!”

The cheerfulness in her tone was genuine. While manifesting and confrontation was something Oscar had tried to get her to do early on, there are ways to go about it. Headspace or not, poking at a beast was always risky. “I’m glad you’re feeling good, but exercise caution. I wouldn’t try that alone. There’s a lot we don’t know about that space. I doubt you can actually die there but if that really is your mind you're traversing then serious backlash might happen if things go wrong. Remember, Shiva has an edge. Don’t let her play you in your own head.”

“Believe me, that’s the last thing I want. I’ll be careful Oscar. Thanks for worrying about me. Couldn’t ask for a better therapist”

“I wouldn’t go that far. Ruby and your dad give some pretty solid motivational speeches.”

Hehe, don’t sell yourself short. I should probably get going. Good luck! Watch the gods tell you to perform an exorcism or drown me in sacred water.”

Oh if only it was that easy. “If she had any signs of a soul I would’ve tried that already. Take care Summer. Call me when you need me”

“You know I will.” She hung up and looked over at Nick. A few of the girls had taken the opportunity to strike up a conversation with him. In typical fashion, Nick just let them fawn in vain. “Geez, take a hint ladies.” She mumbled.

“Oh my gods! I wasn’t aware you could sing!”

“So talented!”

“Can you sing for my birthday!?”

All the back chatter and compliments made it hard to focus on one person. Nick did his best to calm them all, giving a faux laugh and smile. “Hehe, thanks. I can hold a note, I’m not as good as my sister, and I’m way too sheepish to sing at a birthday. Now we should probably get back to working maybe? Practice is almost-” his eyes caught the door entrance before he finished. Valerie had walked in.

As if by will, her head automatically turned to meet his eyes. Valerie couldn’t help but give some kind of disarming smile, giving a small wave that was quickly rejected when Nick went back talking to the people around him. Not even Valerie could deny that burn. She put her hand down before she felt anymore like an edit, walking over to Eliza to get what she had to do over with.

“Hey soldier.”

“Huh? Well look who finally decided to show! I expect more from a representative of this school.”

“Oh brother…” Val couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “I’m not even gonna pretend that I’m sorry like I usually do. Look, at least I did what was asked of me. Boiler is fixed for now and there should be no problem getting hot water when the big day arrives.”

“Keep a keen eye on it just in case. I don’t have any time to deal with tiny problems during the tournament.”

“Yeah you and everyone else in this room. Now if you excuse me.” Valerie pointed both thumbs back and tried backing up slowly.

“Hold on…”

“Uuugh. Yes? I got plenty of practice to work on. Make this quick.”

Eliza narrowed her eyes. “Wow, someone is more aggressive than usual. If that’s how you’re going to be then I’ll spare you the lecture. Just know you better be careful or I might pull the rug out from under you this year.”

“Hmph, bold words. You gotta make it to the top of the hill before challenging the ruler. Though you’re more than welcome to kick Nick around and take his spot for all I care. See ya. Just text me the meeting information. Got things to do.” Valerie turned around and headed off. On the way out she saw Summer staring at her with a raised eyebrow from afar. To make matters worse, the cheerleaders moved by the exit. Veronica being among them. Valerie was ready for some kind of sly comment but to her surprise Veronica briefly acknowledged her, nodded, and then went back to what she was doing.

Eliza looked at the time and figured everyone made enough progress for one day. “Alright everyone! You can all start wrapping things up. I’m sure all of you have things to-” the sound of everyone packing their belongings overpowered her voice. “Do.” She finished. At least she could trust everyone to clean up on time. “Nicholas, get your butt in gear.”

“Oh thank goodness!” Nick wasted no time squeezing his way through the girls that lingered around him. “Sorry! The VP calls! Let’s go Summer!”

“Right behind you.” She turned towards the band. “It would be a good idea for you all to practice a little longer. Not because you may or may not need it but because I’ll finally give you room to experiment. Just no funny ideas about adding drum solos.” Summer hopped off stage and headed off, quickly catching up to Nick, Eliza, and Veronica. “Well aren’t we an interesting looking bunch?”

“An idol, witch, heir, and fashion designer. This is the beginning of a bad joke I’d say.”

“Bold of you to call someone a witch when they’ve agreed to help you train.”

“Would you prefer magical girl, or maybe sorceress?” Nick nudged her.

“I prefer my name. However…sorceress is endearing, I suppose.”

“I could call you that while you teach me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” She said in a shrill voice. “I’m already regretting this.”

“Well while you two train to death, I’m finally going to get some real shut eye. I can hear my bed calling my name already.”

“Not so fast.” Veronica interjected. “Since we ended up being free at the same time and I have to work a little more diligently…”

Summer didn’t like where this was headed. “Veronica, my hot headed designer, I’m well aware of what it’s like to be a perfectionist. However, please don’t rope me into this.”

All three of them looked at her at once. “It’s your dress!”

“I know that! No need to remind me! I am tired though. It’s Monday, the weekend was crazy, and I just put in a full day of school with extra curricular activities. Allow me two hours at least!?”

“Ugh, ever the whiner. Fine but I don’t want to hear any complaints about design. Most would be thrilled to be heavily involved with their clothing.”

“Well consider this a show of good faith towards your skills.”

The four of them continued to talk all the way to the manor. Eliza tried to stay on important topics while Nick did his best to keep things casual. It never really worked out considering Summer's insistence to not help her dear brother and Veronica’s curiosity about events to come. It was only when the girl’s feline ears twitched by the gate did she begin to quiet down.

“Hmmm?” She stopped immediately.

“Huh? What’s wrong Vee-”

“ACHOO!!!” The girl yelled. The sneeze was so strong Veronica lifted off the ground slightly. “Phew…sorry about that.” She sniffled her loss and continued walking like nothing happened, leaving everyone confused. Veronica was the first to enter with everyone lagging a bit behind. Her eyes looked around until they spotted her mother, Blake, coming down the stairs in casual clothes and wet hair.

“Hey everyone! Finally home I see? And with a friend?”

“Uh classmate. I wouldn’t exac…ummm that’s not important. Hehe, I’m Eliza Marigold.” She stammered. It didn’t really dawn on her that she’d be meeting Mrs. Belladonna herself today. “You look lovely. Though…you look a little red? Are you sick?”

“Oh it’s nothing! Just umm got out of the shower is all.”

Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s ma?”

“Out back with Jaune.”

“Really?”

“One hundred perfect!” Blake said, unusually preppy. “Well I don’t keep you kids held up. I’ll be in the living room. Nick, Summer, I think your mother is in the garden.”

“Cool. She must be setting up the candle test already. Follow me Eliza.” Nick took her hand and guided her.

“Think I’ll get lost or something?”

“No, I just don’t need you judging every inch of this place until you find something to criticize.”

“……It’s too bright in here.” She heard Nick snicker at her attempt. “You suck.”

With those two out of the way it was time for Summer to mosey to her room. “Finally, nap time!”

“Don’t you wanna practice too?”

“What they’re doing is something I already know. Besides, Nick and I do most of our practices separate. He’ll get me when he needs me. Wake me up if you need anything.”

Veronica waited for the girl to get out of sight before giving her mom a look meant to inspire shame and embarrassment. “Really? We’ve been out all day ya know? You had plenty of time.”

Blake put her hand over Veronica’s face. “Shush your face. It happens sometimes. Thank you for the heads up.”

“Y’all are gross but that’s nothing new. I won’t mention it again if you could bring dinner up to my room. I’m gonna be spending quite some time in there.”

“Even across the world I guess some habits don’t change. Deal.”

xxxxx

In the garden, Weiss stood on the balcony with a cup of coffee. The sound of footsteps behind her caught her ear. She was more than a little surprised to learn that they belonged to not just Nick. “Eliza?”

“Mrs. Schnee. Thank you for allowing me in your home.” Eliza gave a curtsy.

“How’s your father?”

“Oh you know him, always up to something.”

Weiss wasn’t sure if that was good or bad considering his track record. “I see. Well make yourself comfortable. Nick, everything is already set up. Never would’ve thought this is how you’d try to get this done. Don’t push yourself.”

“Heh, push myself? Me?”

Weiss playfully rolled her eyes and left the balcony, ruffling Nick’s hair on the way out. Nick looked at Eliza confused. “You know you don’t have to be so formal around her, right?”

“Let’s not focus on my speech and pay attention to why we’re here. Anyways, how does this training work exactly?”

Nick walked to the railing to point at the fifteen candles spread throughout the garden. “The goal is to light all the candles at once without burning anything. It’s harder than it looks. It requires timing, speed, accuracy, and control above all.”

“Never took you for one who cares much for traditional methods of fighting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use your glyphs to manipulate the elements.”

“Yeah, because I suck. Summer on the other hand…” He hunched over in defeat. “Not so much.”

Eliza couldn’t help but scan the area multiple times. This couldn’t be all there was to it. Could it? The five candles in the actual hedge maze looked a little challenging, but Nick was…Nick! Despite her reservations about his attitude, he was smart and knew how to work.

“Do you increase the candle amount as you go?”

He nodded. “That’s the natural progression. Summer can do thirty without thinking much about it.”

“Meanwhile you can’t even do half that amount. You sure you’re the older twin?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.” He pouted. Nick grabbed his sword and got into his low stance.

“So I’m just supposed to observe you?”

“No. I’m going to need help with the fires too.”

That’s not something she wanted to hear. “Tsk, alright. But first, let me see if I’m able to do it. Wouldn’t be that good of a teacher if I couldn’t.”

She climbed on top of the railing to get a better look. She raised her right hand to the sky and took a breath. Five flames ignited her fingertips as she thought of the best approach. Moments later, Eliza launched all five with a downward swing, another five swing left, then the final five to the right. Each flame danced on the winds below them before finding their targets.

Amazed, Nick’s jaw dropped for a second before saying anything. “First try!?”

“Not exactly. You did say all at once so that may have been cheating. Let me try again.” She wrapped both arms around herself then swung them out, causing a gust of wind that blew out the candles.

Nick watched closely. Breathing, posture, line of sight; anything he could to gain knowledge. Eliza cuffed her hands together. A small flame flickered into existence and grew slowly until it was the size of a baseball. Eliza threw it over the garden underhanded. The moment it reached max height she pushed her hands downwards like if she closed a lid. This made the flame split apart into embers that fell quick enough to reach each candle. Nick couldn’t believe she was two for two.

“Seems I got the hang of it.” Eliza blew the candles out and hopped off the railing. “I’d do it while off the railing but I’m positive we know the results.”

“Yeah no kidding. While I’m lucky I picked the right person to help me, doing that so easily kinda stings. Not gonna lie. You really are a sorceress.”

“Tsk, flattery gets you nowhere. Assume your stance.” She ordered. Eliza kept a close eye on Nick. He opted to square his feet with his shoulders, a sturdy stance for sure. “So far so good.” His blade pointed up and outwards. A red glyph began to form at its tip, conjuring a ball of intense flame that was as big as a softball. Eliza’s eyes narrowed. She could not believe what she was watching. “You’ll miss.”

“Huh?” Nick said, trying to focus.

“If you shoot the fireball then you are going to miss.” Eliza channeled a silver orb in her palm that bursted into shimmering light. Nick’s glyph suddenly vanished and took the fireball along with it.

“Hey! Don’t just negate my semblance out of the blue! I didn’t even shoot it yet!”

Eliza wasn’t sure what she had expected from this training. It was clear now why a talented person like Nick was fumbling. Frankly, it was annoying. Down right inexcusable. Eliza folded both her arms. “You’re so idiotic in the strangest ways possible, you know that right? To think you’re stronger than me?”

Nick huffed. This wasn’t constructive at all. “You gonna actually help, or continue to insult me? If I knew how to do this on my own then I wouldn’t ask for help.”

Nick ran his hand through his tangled hair and let out a sigh. Eliza could tell he genuinely had no idea what was wrong. It kinda got to her. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be picking on you like that. You weren’t wrong to ask for help.”

“Normally I have an inkling of how to progress but I’m hitting a wall. All of this is just…”

“Too much?” Eliza leaned over and thumped his head. “Because it is. That’s exactly your problem. You are doing far too much at once. Why are you trying to do so many steps at the exact same time?”

“What do you mean at the exact same time? All I did was make a fireball.”

Eliza could feel her eye try to twitch. “Okay. I should’ve expected that from you. Guess I’ll teach by showing.” She stood beside Nick and made a flame. “See? Now this is as basic as it gets, just straight up fire. A fireball requires controlling the shape of the flame;maintaining its heat as well.” The flame swirled around itself to make just that.

“Okay? I’m following you so far.”

“If a fireball was all you were making then no big deal. However, I just saw you attempt to make a fireball that has to keep its shape, burn hot enough, long enough, and must be aimed at multiple targets at once. No mind can do all that on a dime. It’s simply too much.”

Nick watched Eliza move behind him, putting her arms right on top of his, guiding his movements as if she was holding his blade. Her chin rested on his shoulder to get a clear line of sight. Nick was no stranger to being led through an attack, but man was it weird to have Eliza this close!

“Ummm…”

“Bear with it and focus.” She uttered, trying not to yell in his ear. “Make a flame. Just a flame. Let it heat swell and dissipate in sync with my breathing.”

“Shouldn’t it be with my own?”

“Not when your heart is beating like a drum. To think Nicholas Schnee would lose composure from a girl touching him?”

“Can’t hear you, focusing.” He was trying anyway. Eventually he managed to slow his heartbeat. He could tell Eliza was taking deep breaths on purpose to help. In sync, he made another fire glyph as she ordered.

“Good, now make it as hot as you want, then make it into a ball.” The flame shaped into the size of a baseball this time. Eliza smiled. “See how easy it is to control the size after you’ve completed the previous steps? You’ll save dust this way.”

“What’s next?”

“Aiming. You already know where your targets are but you also aren’t in a rush. If you need time to make a shot then all you have to do is make the time.” Eliza raised Nick’s sword higher in the air. “Launch it into the air, confirm where you need the fire to hit, then guide the flames to it.”

Nick took a deep breath and launched the fireball ball in an arch over the garden. He waited for it to reach the middle and fall briefly before making it burst into smaller flames that hit the candles. Eliza finally let go so he could pump his fist into the air.

“Woohoo!”

“Don’t celebrate yet, but good job. A moving target would be harder but not impossible. Repetition will allow you to eventually group certain steps together without having to think about it. You’ll get used to making fireballs that are a certain size and speed as long as you allow yourself to process each step as you are now. I noticed you let the fireball fall. Why?”

“I always end up not lighting them all because the fire dies too quickly. I realized the flame wasn’t hot enough the moment I shot it, so I let it get closer to the candles before having to split it up. Good thing you told me to aim higher or I may not have noticed.

“He can process things like that but not realize breaking the steps up will make things easier? How does his brain work!?”

Another gust of wind blew the candles out. “I’m willing to help you further but I think it’s time you held up your end of this bargain.”

“Antsy, aren’t we? Fair enough.” Nick put his sword down and sat on the railing. “What I’m about to tell you is going to make your tournament life a hundred times simpler. This is your second King of The Hill. Remember the rules?”

“Of course I do.” She followed his lead and sat down as well. “All previous tournament and combat skills leading up to the tournament are calculated so they can rank you compared to the other contestants. In order to progress higher you must defeat the person directly above you in the rank to switch places. Those who win are rewarded a reprieve from being challenged immediately to decrease rematches, but the loser can be challenged by whoever is directly below them. Conversely, if you challenge a person and lose, then you have to wait a set period before trying again while defending your current spot. The entire tournament is on a time limit that tests endurance, strategy, and the skills you’ve used all year. The winner is whoever is ranked number one by the end; the king of the hill.”

“Correct! It’s pure chaos. However, you forgot an important thing. You’ve participated once and managed to get third, so that’s automatically where you start.”

Eliza’s eyes lit up. “That’s a rule!?”

“Yep. As long as you still participated in prior tournaments this year, which you have. Congratulations on skipping the taxing part. Now you’re in the grueling section. The only way you go up is through me and Valerie. A slip up could cause you to waste too much energy and that could drag you out of third if you lose or even win against me immediately, because if I get challenged and win, then I can challenge you again before you challenge Valerie or after you hypothetically lose to her. Let that sink in for a moment.”

Eliza could feel her heart drop to her stomach. If she were to beat Nick and lose to Valerie then at best she’s at a third of her strength for a rematch she doesn’t want. Beating Nick was a goal but she didn’t need to do it twice in a day! The worst part is she is at his mercy in this scenario; getting a reprieve only if he needs one. He could very well best her and then she’s even more tired defending third place.

“Is it sinking in? Third place is its own special hell. Let’s knock Valerie into it.” He smiled.

“And how do we manage that exactly?”

“By knocking me into it! I want to take a dive in our match. A good one. The two of us will put on a spectacle to show our might that ends with me losing. This will throw everyone off into thinking you are exceptionally strong and-”

“Are you saying I’m not!” She folded her arms.

Nick chuckled nervously. “Let me finish before you get upset. Yes, you're strong, but will think you’re stronger than me by a decent margin. This is where the mind games kick in because the two of us haven’t actually used that much energy, but the other contestants don’t know that.”

Eliza rubbed her chin. “You…want them to fight you?”

“Exactly. No one's gonna pass up the opportunity to get a leg up on me. You know that better than anyone. Unfortunately for them, I’ll actually be trying against them and I fully intend to go end them quickly. This does multiple things. It makes the gap between the top three look bigger, allows me to stir the lower ranks rotation, keeps you rested, and makes Valerie anxious because you will not immediately challenge her. We are going to burn time until it gets to a point that once she’s knocked out of first, getting back up will be nearly impossible.”

“I fail to see how that’s possible. If she’s rested-”

“That’s just it, she won’t be. You can challenge her freely and not worry about me for most of the tournament. Use the time to learn how to fight her then I’ll challenge you again and win, then immediately go fight her. You’ll briefly be back in third place but fourth place holders will be exhausted and think twice about challenging you, Eliza Marigold; the person who beat Nicholas Schnee.”

“You made a safety net for third”

“I made a safety net for you! I will beat Valerie so she’ll fall to second place and that’s where you jump in to knock her to third. By that point she’ll have to wait and losing twice in a row is gonna give people ideas. Even if she beats them it’ll be a race against the clock and you can challenge me to avoid fighting her if it comes down to that. Boom, guaranteed second place for you with a potential at first place.”

The plan was insane, daring, and yet clearly thought of. “This is…a lot. Not to mention not full proof. What if I actually don’t need you to weaken Valerie and can take first place for myself?”

“Then by all means take it. I’ll knock Valerie to third myself and then fight you. Careful though. If I win you’re stuck with her and plenty of time you have to stall.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. “What if I refuse this off altogether?”

“That’s fine. We’ll just all have to do our best.”

“Your entire plan hinges on you beating Valerie. What if-”

“I’ll win.” He deadpanned. “I can take her this year. No questions about it.”

He started giving that same exact look he did a few days ago. “Not that I’m not interested but this feels a little unlike you.”

“Is that bad? People are always saying I’m too soft around Valerie. This is a tournament and there’s no rules against teamwork. You in?”

He hopped down and extended his hand. Nick did his best to seem casual about all of this but it was clear to Eliza he was pretty frustrated at Valerie. It wasn’t her place to pry. If he was willing to go this far then she might as well keep an eye on the entire thing. A chance to progress, and a good event. As long as those two things happened without incident then she had no reason to object. Then there was the other problem. She already helped him train…Eliza shook his hand.

“Glad to do business with you. I guess it’s only fair now that I give you the choice to stop training me. Wouldn’t want this to feel like I’ve gained so much tangible progress while yours relies on-”

Eliza tossed him his sword. “Quit with the chivalrous act. If I don’t train you to my standards then I’m positive your plan is bound to fall apart. Helping you here can only benefit me, or did you already forget I could teach you a thousand ways to improve your glyphs and still even the playing field?” She made another silver orb.

Nick gulped. He actually did forget how big of a pain in the ass it was gonna be fighting her. Semblance training doesn’t mean much if you can’t use it. “Have I ever told you that you can be terrifying and comforting at the same time?”

“Nobility should be just that. It’s why people like your face so much whenever you look like you beat the crap out of somebody.”

“People like my face because I’m handsome!!!”

“Less chitchat. More candle lighting.”

Nick hunched over in defeat. Marigolds, what can you do with them?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Prince and the Pauper

Warnings: noncon/dubcon elements (rough sex, public-ish, cuck-ish behaviour), some violence

This is dark!Thor and ft. Loki Reader and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: During Loki’s stay in Asgard’s prison, he finds companionship in a fellow prisoner. Thor, still bitter about his  betrayal and ever stoking their brotherly rivalry, takes unkindly to this unexpected friendship.

Note: Alrighty, so first off, mind the warnings! Secondly, this is rough, like really rough. I don’t know but when I write dark!Thor, he’s so mean. I can’t even explain it and I’m sorry to Loki. Omg but anyway, it takes place when Loki’s imprisoned at the beginning of Dark World and before all the mess with Dark Elves and fake stabbings. Also I didn’t wriite his cell as having a force field because I’m a dumb fuck. Thank you. But anyway, bon appetit. 

Leave some feedback, like and reblog if you can <3

He woke you up early. Not on purpose, it was never on purpose, but he always had a way of disturbing you. Ever since his arrival; and before, in his own way. From a distance, though you’d never met. No citizen of Asgard could escape the golden rays of their royal family and you were of many who had been burned by them.

Six years. You could be thankful that the cell wasn’t entirely grim, the front wall a window, though it looked out on nothing more than stone. An artificial light above you, a hard bench as your bed, facilities in a small booth in the corner; the bare minimum of living. Not much different than before.

And you heard it again. The clicking, the metallic whir that had woken you and kept you thus. You sighed and banged your elbow against your shared wall. “Whatever it is you're playing with, stop! You’re going to drive me mad.”

“You’re awake?” He replied.

“Have been for a while now,” You snarled. “Thank you.”

Loki chuckled. You rolled your eyes and went back to braiding the laces of your boots. They were fraying and ready to break. You didn’t have much to keep yourself occupied; not like him apparently. Though he did offer you respite with his little word games now and then. More often, he irritated you.

“Ahem.” He cleared his throat and you heard a metallic object being set down. 

“You’re down in these cells with me, we’re past the whole ‘your highness’ charade.” You grumbled. “Aren’t we?”

“I suppose, peasant,” He japed. You closed your eyes and huffed. 

You heard a light tap on whatever metal he had been toying with before. “Please… Could you allow me a few moments without all the fidgeting?”

He laughed again but stopped. You heard his soft footsteps and saw his shadow as it was skewed by the glass before him. Side by side, it was all you ever saw of him. “How about a game, then?”

“I’m too tired for your riddles.”

“We’ll make it easy. How well do you know the city?”

“I know the south well.” You shrugged. “Haven’t really the coin to go beyond the Market Line.”

“Good enough,” He replied. “So this is how the game works. I shall start with a short explanation of a certain location. You can guess at what I have in mind or ask a question; yes or no only. Up to five and then you lose.”

“And if I lose?”

“You can sing me song.” You could hear his smirk.

“I’m tone deaf.”

“So I suspect it will be even more a loss for you.” He chimed.

“And if I win?” You asked.

“Well, as you can imagine, even with shackles, I have certain privileges,” He preened. “Perhaps a special dinner could be left in your cell? Do you like wine?”

“Common folk don’t drink wine and if they do, it isn’t very good.” You countered. “I’ll take the dinner.”

“Ale then, palace ale too. It might just keep you from waking at the smallest twitch.” He mused. 

“Go on then,” You moved to lay down with your feet stretched towards the glass. The stone cool beneath you. “Let’s play your game.”

“There’s a tree outside with a broken branch and the door is painted. It has a round window on the upper floor and an alleyway on the east side.” He stated and you heard his fingertips tapping on the glass.

“That’s it?” You asked and he stayed silent. “Well, if I guess do I forfeit a question?”

“Yes. Five tries. Though if you ask a question, you can guess without detriment.” 

“Is it a tavern?” You asked.

“No.” He said plainly.

“The Copper’s Book Shop.” You guessed.

“No.” He replied quickly.

“Is it a shop?” You ventured.

“That’s two, and yes.”

“Hmm,” You wiggled your foot as you thought. “Broken tree… wait.” You sat up. “Holleran’s.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Yes, that’s it.”

“That’s north of the Line,” You sniffed. “You broke your own rules.”

“It was never stated as a rule,” He said coyly. “And besides, you won. Fish or venison?”

“Fresh-baked bread and spiced chicken.” You answered with a smile. “Simple but better than the gruel they serve here.”

“Sounds oddly delectable,” You heard him sit as a chair scraped. “I’ll inform the gaoler when he next app--”

He went silent as he was interrupted by the sound of the gears just around the corner from his cell. The large door which sealed the prison informed you of all visitors and new arrivals. You pushed yourself to your feet and went to the window to peer down the hall. 

Two guards in armor appeared and then another man; tall, blonde, broad. It wasn’t his first visit. You’d met him outside this place though you doubted he remembered you. You quickly retreated to your bench along the back wall. The metallic click started again.

“Brother,” Loki greeted staunchly and was echoed cheerfully by his brother. “What brings you here? Surely this place cannot be preferable to Asgard, even when it rains.”

“We are still family,” Thor insisted. “And mother does bid me to see to you as much as she does.”

“And what of Father?” Loki bristled. “Does he not bid you forget me?”

“I didn’t come to provoke you,” Thor insisted. There was a slight pause.

“What did you come for?” Loki intoned. “What are you looking at?”

“Hmm?” Thor grumbled. “Oh, nothing. I come to see if there is anything you desire.”

“A key?” Loki japed. “Beyond that, I want for nothing you can give me.”

“We did hunt a wild boar. If you would like a plate…” Thor offered.

“Chicken.” He interjected. “And fresh bread. For me and the cell to the left of me. I owe them.”

“Owe them?” Thor wondered and there was another lull. You kept your head down but sensed the shadow at the edge of your window. “For what, exactly?”

“A bet. Children’s games.” Loki brushed off. “Really, it is boring down here for all. We do while our time away in rather unspectacular ways.”

“Chicken and bread.” Thor repeated and his shadow disappeared beyond the wall. “Certainly. Anything else? More books?”

“My quill’s are dull,” Loki replied. “I need nibs. Parchment too. Perhaps a candle or two.”

“Mhmm,” Thor hummed in response. “Sure, I can do that. Why Loki, this prison is almost preferable to the palace.”

“Always seeing the golden shine, brother,” Loki mulled. “So shallow, so naive. If only father could see that, he would know who was better fit to the throne.”

“Ah, but his knowing cannot change who was born first.” Thor replied smugly.

“No, it cannot,” Loki agreed. “Are you done?”

“Are you?” Thor countered. Silence. The shadow again. “I’ll leave you to your… games, brother. Perhaps next time, we can play one.”

You listened to the departure of the older prince and his guards. The door closed and the gears ground loudly. Not a second after, a metallic shatter bounced against the wall. Then a chair toppled and Loki’s footsteps grew heavier as he paced his cell.

“It smells of the docks and there’s wines along the back wall,” You began. “The front step is crooked and there’s a line of bushes outside, just along the west.” Silence. “Five guesses.”

He sighed; long and loud. “Is it a merchant?” He asked.

⚡

It was a week before the prince received another visit. It was Thor again and like the last time, Loki was less than keen on his presence. You sat in your cell, on the hard bench, and dragged your nail along the mortar lazily. Their voices were easy enough to ignore; their arguments one and the same.

And then you sensed it. The movement behind you. You kept yourself distracted with the wall. Then the shadow came closer until it stood at the centre of the window. You found it hard not to peek over your shoulder but you focused on the bricks.

“I know you from somewhere.” Thor said.

“Do you?” You asked.

“I must. I’ve seen you before.” He insisted.

“That doesn’t mean you know me.” You replied without looking.

“Leave her alone,” Loki hissed. 

“I am just talking with her, brother,” Thor said. “No harm in that. Besides, you aren’t her keeper, merely a fellow prisoner.”

“She doesn’t want to talk with you.” Loki sneered.

“My lady, what got you down here?” Thor turned back to you as he ignored his brother.

“I’m not a lady, for one thing,” You turned on the bench and looked at him. “I suppose it’s why I robbed that royal ship and unmoored it so that it was lost to the depths.”

“Oh, you were one of them,” He stepped closer to the glass. “That must be it.”

“And so the mystery is solved,” Loki growled. “Let her be. It’s grim enough down here without your interrogation.”

“Grim, indeed,” Thor remained at your cell. “Do you read? Draw? I could have you provided with some instruments to ease your tedium?”

“Me?” You scoffed. “No. Thank you. I have no want for your generosity.”

“Pity, more like,” Thor corrected. “But, as you will.”

He lingered a moment as you stared back at him. He grinned and turned away as his cloak swirled around him. He tapped on the glass of his brother’s cell as he passed. “Take care, brother.”

⚡

It was several days before anything further of note occurred. It was easy to track in a place like this. Something was stark in contrast to nothing. You walked the perimeter of the cell as you thought through Loki’s latest riddle. Every now and then, he’d offer a hint through it was more gloating than actual concern. You would say no and go back to your thoughts.

‘My beak is bent downward, I burrow below; I grub in the ground and go as he guides, My gray, old master, foe of the forest. Stoop-shouldered my warder walks at my back, Fares through the field, urges and drives me, Sows in my track as I sniff along. Fetched from the wood, cunningly fitted, Brought in a wagon, I have wondrous skill. As I go my way on one side is green; On the other side plain is my dark path. Set through my back hangs a cunning spike; Another fixed forward is fast to my head. What I tear with my teeth falls to one side, If he handles me right who is my ruler.’

You ran it over and over in your head. He was growing impatient, you could hear him tapping on his table. You bit your lip and stopped in place. You tried to concentrate.

“Um…” You mumbled. “A… A plow?”

“Pardon?” He said from the other side. The tapping stopped.

“A plow. It’s a plow isn’t it?”

“It is,” He confirmed. “Your turn?”

“Oh, let me think.”

“Did you not just think for a long time?” He taunted.

“Well, do you want a good one or is an imbalanced victory still victory for you?” You retorted.

“Go on. Think.” He said sharply.

You leaned against the wall but were quickly jolted by the gears turning. Loki’s shadow neared yours as they skewed over the stone floor outside the glass wall. A gaoler appeared alongside a man in plain clothing. He held a bundle in his hands that bore a golden seal. The guard followed closely as he passed the prince’s cell and stopped before yours. You eyed the hammer pressed into the wax seal attached to the thick cord around his armful.

“Back. Against the wall.” The guard held up his baton. “Now.”

You frowned and slowly back up until you were against the brick. The glass slowly slid up and the gaoler nodded to the messenger. He stepped forward and placed the bundle on your cell floor. You watched him in confusion. He retreated and the glass descended back into place.

“What is this?” You asked as the messenger turned to leave.

“From the prince,” He supplied and continued on. The guard followed without a word.

The door closed behind them as you listened. It was still for a minute and then you stepped forward.

“Well, what is it?” Loki asked.

“Don’t know.” You answered.

“So… aren’t you going to look?” He urged.

“From the prince? Surely you know.”

“Not this prince,” He scoffed. “Ah, my brother thinks he coy.”

“I don’t understand.” You kept far from the present.

“Do you think the guards live more exciting live than us? No, they gossip and they sell any sliver worthy of gold.” He laughed darkly. “He knows we are acquainted. That we speak. He takes our games as more than they are and he thinks to win. Again. My brother has ever wanted for all he saw others have.”

“Riddles? Children’s games?” You shook your head. “Besides, he said it himself; you’re not my keeper.”

“No, but by law, he is,” Loki sounded perturbed. “I suppose he seeks to remind you of that.”

“I don’t want his gifts.” You insisted.

“I don’t blame you. They never come free.” He replied.

You neared and stared down. An envelope poked out from the cord around the canvas wrapped lump. “There’s a letter.”

“Oh… what does it say?” He paused. “Can you--”

“I can read,” You assured him and took the envelope. You slipped the leaf from within and sighed. “‘My lady’, ha, he’s a charmer isn’t he?” You scoffed. “‘I did think upon what tedium should accompany such imprisonment. And to think that of your limited company, you should also suffer my own brother. So I have provided to you some things to ease your boredom. His royal highness, Prince Thor of Asgard.’”

You enunciated his title emphatically and tucked away the letter. You dropped it atop the bundle and turned away.

“So… what did he give you?” Loki asked again.

“I don’t care,” You sat on the bench and held your chin in your hands. “I’m not accepting it.”

“Oh?” He wondered.

“Well, knowing you, I suspect tricks might run in the family.” You said.

“Ah,” He added another syllable. “You might not be wrong.”

⚡

Two days later. The bundle stayed where it was, even as your meals were delivered. But your breakfast didn’t come that day. Not on time. 

The door whirred to announce more than the guard. Two in golden armour and the usual in his silver mail. They walked behind the prince, Thor, who acknowledged his brother with only a smirk. You backed up against the wall of your cell and watched him approach. 

There was a train of servants too; one with a tray, one with a stack of dishes and cutlery, another with an ewer, another with a table, and a third with a pair of chairs. The guard barked at you to stay and the glass slowly opened.

“Brother…” Loki’s voice was a low warning.

“Shortly, Loki, I do have other business to attend before I get to you.” Thor’s eyes didn’t leave you as the servants set up their wares in you cell. You frowned and crossed your arms. The glass remained open and the guards stood at either corner. “My lady.”

“I am a peasant.” You insisted. “And a criminal besides that.”

He sat as the tray was uncovered. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“The gruel is good enough.” You insisted.

“Sit.” He waved to the other chair. “Tell me you wouldn’t like something a little more solid?” He picked up a rasher and waved it in the air. “A little more flavourful?”

You glared at him. Even as a prisoner, you could not disobey the prince. You neared slowly and sat reluctantly but made no move to help yourself to the food. He didn’t seem to care as he loaded a plate for you. He placed it before you and sat back.

“You haven’t touched my gifts?” He asked.

“There is no reason for them.” You said evenly.

“Does there need to be?” He took a bite of bacon. “A kind gesture. Rare, but I wouldn’t think unwelcome for you.”

“Not much I welcome about this place.” You said.

“Well, aren’t you going to eat?” He asked. You raised your brows and slowly reached to your plate. “There are books. One to sketch in and some charcoal.” He nodded to the bundle still on your floor. “I can get you paints.”

“What am I ever going to sketch in this place? The wall?” You swallowed. 

“Then you can read.” He offered.

“Too restless to read,” You said.

“Restless?” He repeated. “Yes, I can see how.”

You ate quietly as he rubbed his chin. He leaned back as he grabbed his cup and drank.

“So, what if I gave you something to do? You’d still be serving your sentence, of course, but you wouldn’t have to stay here.”

His eyes strayed to the wall against Loki’s cell. You blinked and wiped your hands with the napkin.

“You could be my chambermaid. My own recently went to work for my mother instead.” He grinned. “A couple hours a day away from here…”

“I don’t think I would be very adept at that role.” You said.

“I do. You seem a bright woman. Quick with your tongue and surely on your feet.” He mused. “Tell me you’d not rather remain here in these cells… with him?”

“My decision is hardly affected by your brother,” You assured him. “I haven’t any desire to serve you or your family. That is how I ended up here so it would be a disservice to myself and the common folk of this kingdom to bow to you now.”

His smirk fell. He took another bite of bacon and shoveled some hash into his mouth. He sighed. “I’ll let you think about it,” He uttered at last. “I really do think you should consider this more deeply.”

You nodded and looked away from him. Loki’s shadow stood in the corridor just beside your cell. He was listening. You pushed away the plate and stood. “You know, I’m not all that hungry after all.”

⚡

Thor left and Loki was silent. You heard him move now and then but he didn't speak. There was tension in the air but you couldn't tell if it was for you or his brother. You kept quiet.

When you laid down across the hard bench, he had yet to speak. He wasn't always talkative but your riddles, your games, had grown routine. You were restless and when you finally slept, you dreamt of the prince. 

Not the one on the other side of the wall but the one which had come within. He stood outside your window and watched. That's all. Just watched. And smiled. That smile was terrifying.

You awoke with a start. A figure stood outside your wall but it was only the guard with your breakfast. The usual bowl of grey slop. He slid it through the small slot meant for the purpose and marched away. You took it and stirred it with a grimace.

"You should've accepted his offer." Loki intoned. "It might have saved you that vile fare."

"I'd rather this." You took a mouthful and choked it down.

"Why? It's horrid down here."

"Are you so eager to see me work for your family? Would it give you some peripheral sense of superiority?" You wondered.

"Not at all. I only know, it wasn't a careless offer." He said.

"Which means?"

"My brother is not used to being told no." He said. "He'll surely ask again."

"Why?"

"I've asked myself the same." His shadow loomed in the hallway. "Suppose it's as much about me as you. If not more so… He always has to have it all."

"So I should say yes and achieve what exactly?"

"Some luxury in such a dull life." He offered. "Or perhaps he would see that his little ploy is meaningless and he will leave you be."

"Meaningless?" You echoed. "Ah yes, because it wouldn't bother you at all, would it? I am still, after all, just a peasant."

"That is not what I said." He insisted.

"So… you would care?" You asked.

"I didn't say that either."

"Well, you wouldn't care about me but you would care that he would take away your toy."

"Toy… no, that's not--"

"Don't worry. I never thought any differently but the trade was even. I distracted you, you distracted me, and it was all a little more bearable." You shrugged and took another scoop of porridge. "I can't quite see you over there but let me tell you what I can guess at; you've got a nice bed, yes? A sofa even. A table. Some baubles and some real toys. A bookcase too and--"

"But I am still down here." He interrupted. "As you are."

"So you are but your privilege follows you," You held the brim of the bowl before your lips. "Doesn't it?"

⚡

The days grew longer. Quieter. Loki was less talkative than those first days in the prison. You waited for a riddle, for a game, but it never came. It didn't matter. You were there years before him and he'd no doubt be out before you. There was something about his demeanour which always suggested he saw it as little more than a brief sojourn in a life unspent.

And then he wasn't quiet. You heard a light thump against the glass of his cell. His shadow moved quickly across the floor and back to the corner nearest you. He said your name. You pushed yourself from the bench and neared him.

"He's… I can sense it." His voice was full of a concern you'd never heard from him. Much more than his usual apathy. "He is coming and he is up to no good."

"Who? Thor?" You scoffed. "When has he ever--"

"I'm serious." He hissed as the gears of the door began to tick outside your cells. "Appease him if you can but by gods, do not provoke him."

"What? You're--"

"I know him well despite our bad blood." He spoke hurriedly as the door opened slowly. "My brother can be cruel, not that any ever believed me."

"I…" You took a step back. His tone, his sudden change, it did not bode well. This wasn't a game. "Is he here for you?" You whispered as royal guards appeared at the end of the hall.

"No, I'm sure he is not." He uttered and whisked away as he raised his voice. "Brother, back so soon? I did hope to request some more books. I've exhausted my collection already and--"

Thor sneered and waved his brother off as he continued towards your cell. You backed up so fast you almost stumbled and pressed yourself to the wall. He stared at you, a tic in his jaw as he motioned for the glass to be lifted. As it did, your eyes rounded.

"I've been thinking on you," He stepped inside. "I have heard you like games." You watched him wordlessly as he reached into his tunic. "So, I thought we could play one."

"Don't," Loki warned from the other cell though you could not tell if he spoke to you or his brother.

"Chance." He revealed a half dozen golden dice. "Simple."

"Why are you doing this?" Loki called.

"Why, brother, I am merely seeking to entertain her," Thor neared you and loomed over you. "As you have. Hopefully more."

"She is a prisoner. An enemy of our family." Loki argued. 

"And yet you collude with her as if she were a friend," Thor smirked and grabbed your arm. "Come, sit and we will go over the rules."

"I don't want to play," You tried to resist as he dragged you from the wall. "Please."

"You will play with a trickster but not me?" He turned you so sharply you were dizzy. "Though as you are a prisoner, I see not how your desires should matter. So sit." He shoved you so that you stumbled. "And let's have some fun."

He didn’t flinch and you lowered yourself to the floor to sit on your heels. He sat too and placed the dice between you. You looked to the guards as they watched silently from the hall. You turned back to him and frowned.

“Take one. Roll it and we’ll see who’s up first, eh.” He said.

“Thor--” Loki’s voice rose from the next cell.

“Go back to your books, brother,” Thor called back and kept his eyes on you. “Take one.”

You reached out cautiously as he scooped up a die in kind. He tossed his and you did the same, they bounced across the stone noisily. Loki’s long sigh filled the void. Your block showed six dots as the prince’s read five. He slapped the stone and pushed the pile of dice towards you.

“Your turn first,” He announced. “For each die you match, you get a point; if they should count in order, ten points, and if they all match, twenty. You get three rolls and you may recast whatever die you wish. Simple enough?”

“Simple.” You affirmed. You paused as you stared back at him. He merely smirked and waited. 

“Oh,” He began as you gathered up the dice. “We forgot to set the prize.”

“Prize?” You cradled the dice in your hands.

“We’ll start small. You win, you get the meal of your choice. I win… you get the meal of my choice. With me.”

“And if I should forfeit here and now?” You asked.

“Too late for that,” He leaned back on his hands. “Roll.”

You inhaled and let the dice fall. They rolled and bumped on the stone and stilled at last. Three fours and a single two. You glanced up and swiped the two off the floor and tossed it again. A five. One more try. You had to keep from a grin as the four turned its face up at you. Thor chuckled.

“Twenty points.” He declared. “Though if it is a draw, we will restart.”

His large hand covered the dice as he picked them up and let them go. You listened to the golden cubes against the stone. Three ones, a six, and a two. He shook his head and scooped up the six and the two. He shook the die for a time in his hand before he let them go again. Another one and a five. He took the five and met your eye as he rolled his final turn. He looked down and you did too. A three.

“Damn,” He swore. “A winner, my lady.”

You nodded and looked past him. The guards stared at the ceiling or their feet, unbothered by this little show. Loki’s shadow lurked in the corner. Listening against the glass.

“Anything but gruel is fine by me,” You said as you made to stand. 

“We are not done yet. Two more rounds.” He insisted. “This one, we will have a better prize, hmmm?”

You sat back on your heel and shrugged. You waited for him to continue.

“If you win, you may as of me anything; a book, a pen, a visitor of your choice, perhaps a new bed.” He looked over at the bench and cringed. “Though I might be swayed to provide that out of decency.”

“And if I requested peace? For you to leave me as I was?” You ventured. “What then?”

“If that is what you should ask of me, I will see you to your solitary,” He said sharply. “And peace you shall have.”

You winced at the edge in his voice. You rubbed your neck and shifted on your knees. “A chair…” You said softly. “A chair would appease me.”

“Very well.” He allowed. “And my prize; a single day.” You raised a brow, confused. “With you, my lady. Perhaps I might show you how Asgard has improved since your imprisonment. Perhaps… you might not begrudge me so vehemently then.”

“Perhaps.” You said. “So… do I roll first again?”

He nodded and waited. You took up the die. This time none of the blocks matched but you only need a three to give you straight. You took the six and tossed it. Easy. Ten points and likely a win unless he could draw or match every die. He didn’t. Four points for as many twos.

“You shall have your chair,” He swept up the dice. “And now our final round.”

“No…” Loki was so quiet you weren’t certain he had spoken but it made the hair on your neck stand. 

“This should be interesting.” He offered you the dice and you reached to take them. His rough fingers brushed your palm as you did. “If you win, you’re free. I leave this door open and you walk out, absolved.”

You nearly dropped the dice as you blinked at him. “What?”

“Oh yes, a third win and you shall be rid of both of us.” He nodded to the wall. “A fine prize, indeed.”

“And if you win?” You asked quietly, almost breathless.

His lips curved beneath his golden beard and pushed his golden hair back with his hands. “Well, should I win, then my prize would be… You.”

You pushed yourself back from him. Startled. You stood, the dice still in your fist. You looked around frantically. Something was amiss. He was too certain. But there was no escape. You were trapped and you expected, this was no game of chance. Not truly.

“This game is over.” You held out your hand. “I don’t want your prizes. Keep them.”

“This game ends when I say,” He got up on his knees and walked toward you. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you back down. “So, sit.” He snarled. “And roll.”

His grip was enough to crush your bones and you fell back to your knees. He let go and you looked down at the blocks in your hand. You shook your head and closed your eyes. You curled your fingers around them slowly and sighed.

“Oh,” He added. “And this round will be one roll only.”

Your eyes snapped open and you swallowed. You felt brittle as your nerves threatened to shatter. You lowered your head and tossed the dice; resigned to their fate. Three threes, a six, and a five. You kept your eyes on the floor as he collected the blocks and shook them loudly in his hand.

You held your breath and he threw them to clatter on the floor. Three sixes and a four as the last rolled across the stone towards you. It still just beside your knee and you looked down in dread. Six dots; each etched into the gold and painted white. Your throat tightened and your shoulders slumped. Fuck.

“Thor!” Loki cried as he pounded on the glass. “Don’t! She didn’t--”

“Oh, I remember,” Thor boomed. “I remember her well. This little wench I found in the backstreets. Hands covered in gunpowder; soul coated in dirt. Oh, yes,” He shoved the dice out of the way as he leaned in and grabbed your chin. “I remember those words you painted on that ship; the coin you shared with your fellow rodents.”

You looked at him and gritted your teeth. His hand fell to your throat and he squeezed. 

“Of course, you’d be partial to her, brother.” He stood and you were forced to your feet as he gripped you tightly. “She’s just like you, isn’t she?”

“Stop!” Loki hammered on the glass. “She has done nothing to you.”

“She stole from our family; from our kingdom.” Thor dragged you to the door. “And you sit down here and humour her. Do you truly think your little coup aligns you with this bitch? Brother, do not lower yourself so.”

You grabbed onto his arm as he choked you and kicked your feet against the stone as he nearly lifted you entirely. 

“Open his door; restrain him.” Thor barked.

“What are you--” Loki cried out and you heard his body crumple to the floor. 

The guards approached his cell as his door slid open. He grunted as he was seized and Thor drew you with him along the hall. The dark-haired prince was sat in a chair, hands cuffed behind his back as a metal collar was secured around his neck and attached to the restraints. The guard jabbed him again in the rib with his baton and Loki yelped and pulled against his bounds. Another chain, golden and glowing, secured him to the chair.

“She didn’t--” Loki hissed as the guard threatened another jolt. “Thor, please.”

“I remember what you said then, brother,” Thor pulled you into the cell. He turned you and shoved you across the room. You collided with the long table and several books toppled over its edge. “Hmm? You said they were filthy peasants; greedy and immoral. Entirely inhuman, eh?”

You tried to push yourself up but Thor was upon you in a moment. He grabbed the back of your neck and forced you to bend over the table. You turned your head beneath his weight and your cheek pressed to the smooth wood. Loki stared at you; as helpless as you were. Shocked, even. It was the first time he’d seen you; the first time you were more than a voice through the wall.

“And now… you’re one of them.” Thor brought his other hand up and ran it along your back as he pressed himself behind you. “You would betray our father, our family.” He snarled as he shoved your shirt up. “And you have not learned. You sit down here and act as you always have. As if it was all just a game.”

You squirmed and reached out as you tried to pulled yourself away from him. He reached to your head and pulled it back by your hair. 

“Look at her. I can see the appeal but… Brother, you are still a prince.” He slammed your head back down and silver spots swam in your eyes. “Is this what you want? Hmm?”

His fingers pushed beneath the waist of your pants and he tugged until the button popped off. You clawed at his hand as he crushed your head to the wood. You kicked as he forced a leg between yours. He pulled your pants lower and you whimpered. Your eyes met Loki’s green ones. He wrestled with the cuffs and the guards stunned him again with the club.

You closed your eyes as he cried out. Your ass was bared and your pants gathered around your ankles. Thor wiggled against you so that you could feel his arousal. You grunted and tried to wriggle away. He chuckled and carefully unlaced his trousers, his rough fingers brushed against you.

“Don’t you close your eyes,” Thor growled and you opened yours as Loki’s widened in horror. “You are many things but you are no coward, brother.”

You felt a prod against your thigh. Your toes scuffed on the stone as Thor dragged his tip along your ass. You squeaked and squirmed helplessly. He guided himself lower as his hand trailed from your head to your hip. He pushed so that you were forced to arch your back. 

He was at your entrance in a moment. You whined and he rubbed himself along your folds with a hum. You lifted your head and let it fall back to the table heavily. He pushed inside slowly and reached behind you to try to fend him off. He sank into you entirely as he caught your arms and twisted them up against your back.

You exclaimed and he held himself inside of you. Your walls ached as he rolled his hips. You hissed and tears pricked at your eyes. He pulled back only to slam into you again and you yiped. He did it again, again, again. Each cry only seemed to encourage him.

You clamped your lips shut. Your eyes blurred as the tears gathered and Loki’s jaw tensed as he watched. He sagged in his chair as his chest rose and fell. Your entire body jolted as Thor thrust into you and the table scraped on the stone floor. He released your arms and gripped your hips instead. He pulled you back into him as he fucked you without mercy.

You couldn’t help the pathetic mewls that rose from you. Your hips hit the wood each time he moved you and your head pounded terribly. Your walls felt as if they would tear as he plunged into you. His pelvis crashed against your ass over and over. You scratched at the wood of the table as you tried to gain any foothold.

He drew you to your feet. He hooked his arms through yours and rocked into you with loud moans, each one mirrored by your weak groans. He turned you to face Loki as he sped up. The sickly noises filled the cell as you hung your head. You couldn’t look at the other prince. You could barely keep from collapsing entirely.

Thor wrapped his arms around your middle and drew you against him. His hot breath crawled along your neck and his grunts rang in your ears. Your eyes rolled back as you panted, your body a puppet in his hands. He rutted into you until you could no longer withhold your sobs. Until your cheeks were wet with your surrender.

And he roared. You felt the sudden warmth within as he slowed. He shuddered as he pulled himself from you and his cum spilled down your thighs. He laughed and dropped you. Your legs wobbled as you tried to catch yourself. Your feet tangle in your pants and you fell to the stone in a heap. You bent your legs and tried to cover yourself as he tucked his cock away.

“Well, brother,” Thor said as he nudged you with his toe. “You always did enjoy my leftovers.”

“Why?” Loki croaked and you hid your face in shame.

“Because,” Thor stepped around you to lord over his brother. “You will never have what is mine. Not the throne, not my people. Nothing.”

Thor snickered and Loki snarled. The older prince turned and stepped over you. He strode to the door and stopped. The air was still; suffocating.

“Take the wench to my chambers,” Thor ordered his guards. “And you may untie my brother when he has calmed.”

[pixie88]

Making Amends

Chapter 18 - Always the Bridesmaid.

A/N: I’m going to try and start editing and publishing 2 chapters a week (Next will be out Thursday as we are away this weekend for my LO’s birthday) as I have 6 drafts in ATB and 3 drafts in Addicted to You (Series 2 of ATB) Obviously if you wish to stop reading after series 1 I completely understand just let me know if you like to be untagged. Now offence taken. I hope you like it.

Read previous chapters HERE!

Warnings: Fluff & Little Angst.

Word Count: 2608

Pairings: Laila x Harry

Enjoy!

Laila just sat and listened to Zeppy for over an hour "Do you want my honest opinion?" Laila stokes her hair, she nods "I think you need to put yourself first, not your Mum, Dad or even Jade....You! If that means cutting Vicky out of your life then so be it"

She sits up "But Mum...Jade says you should forgive people's mistakes!" Laila hands her a tissue from her dresser "But you can only give someone so many chance. I get she is your Mum, but sometimes we give family more chances than we do anyone else and they expect it" Zeppy sighs knowing Laila is right.

There's a light knock on the bedroom door, Nate pokes his head in "Everything OK?" he asks, Zeppy smiles then looks at Laila "Yeah, Auntie Leia gave me some advice" Laila gets up "Why do you tell your Dad about it? I'm going to head home. If you need me just give me a call" Zeppy nods as Nate walks further into the bedroom "Thanks!" Nate smiles at her.

She says her goodbyes and makes her way home.

~*~*~*~

A few days later Laila is at work, she has clients back to back. Daniel just sends each one through, she's cleaning her hair clippers when the next client comes over and takes a seat. "Hey, I'll be with you in a minute," she throws over her shoulder not even looking at her client "OK, take all the time you need" he says in a cheery tone.

She knew that voice, they hadn't spoken since the incident in his flat, she turned "Rem? What are you doing here?" he offers her a regretful smile, "I know I had an appointment tomorrow after you finished work, but I didn't think you would turn up, so I rang up the salon booked myself in for today. Plus, I wanted to apologies for how I acted the other day, I was out of line...way out of line! I hope you'll accept my apology and if you feel the need to you can take it out on my hair I will happily accept if it means you will forgive me!"

Laila laughs at him as she throws the gown over him and wrapping her arms around him "Look, I understand you were upset, so there's nothing to forgive!" he smiles up at her in the mirror "Thank god!! I've hated not having you to speak to...You know its hard to get advice when the person you always go to for advice is the one you need advice for! Alec put me in my place soon after you left!"

She laughs, "Rem!! I don't want to know what you get up to!" she jokes making him chuckle. She feels like a weight has been lifted, she has her best friend back. She curious to know what he's going to do about Melissa, but she's too scared to ask because she doesn't want to upset him. "I can see your mind ticking over, I've known you too long to know when your thinking about something"

"Rem...." he smiles, but rolls his eyes, "You want to know what I'm going to do about my mot..I mean Melissa!" he raises a brow at her "I'll meet her, but just once to see what she wants and that's it! Can I ask you something?" she nods at him "Do you think she's serious?" she lets out a breath "She said her friend suddenly died and it made her realise, if that was her...her kids wouldn't be at her funeral. I think she wants just wants a chance. She seemed upset she didn't know you had gotten married. It's weird after I left yours the other day I went to Nate's and while I was there I was trying to convince Zeppy to stop giving Vicky anymore chances"

"Oh? What's happened with Vicky?" Laila shook her head "What's always up with her!"

"Oh, poor Zeppy! Why won't Vicky learn?! She won't stick around if she's on the gear again!" Laila starts trimming his hair "I know, but they say addiction is an illness" Rem's shook her head "We can only hope Zeppy has taken your advice and it makes Vicky realise what she could lose" Laila nod "Hmm..can only hope"

Later that evening.

Laila is putting the finishing touches to her makeup when her buzzer rings. She knew it was Harry, so she buzzes him up and leaves the front door open and runs back to the bedroom to finish up. "Gorgeous?" he calls out "In the bedroom" she calls back.

He pokes his head through the doorway "Are you ready?" he smiles at her "I think so. Do I look OK?" she is wearing a khaki cut off sleeved shirt dress which wasn't long enough to wear without bottoms, so she picked a pair of black trousers and gold and black wedge sandals. "You look perfect," she was nervous he could tell especially considering the last time she had seen Colin and Rose she had called him a miserable old git.

They had made a mends after that, but she still felt incredibly nervous, but this belated birthday meal was Colin's idea. She looks over herself in the mirror one last time, Harry steps behind her, his arm wrapping around her waist and kisses her bare shoulder "No need to be nervous! He knows not to say anything out of line again, but if he does believe me...I won't stand for it" she smiles at his reflection in the mirror before turning in his arms.

"Oh, guess who came into the salon today?!" he knew who by her smile, but he wanted to tease her "Antony Joshua?" she laughs, "No! Rem!" she's beaming "I take it you two have made up then?"

"Yep, all made up!" he kisses the top of her head "Thank god for that," he chuckles "Ready to go?" he asks her "I think so!" he takes her hand and they make their way to the restaurant in Harry's car.

When they get to the restaurant Colin and Rose are already there as they approach the table Laila takes a deep breath "Laila, Harry" Rose gets up from her seat hugging them both "Hi Rose.." "Mum, little too tight!" Harry jokes as she lets go and they all take their seat "Dad" Harry nods at Colin "Colin, Hi!" she smiles "You alright?" he asks them both. "Yeah, thanks, you?" Laila asks her nerves are still going a hundred miles per hour.

"Great! Thanks! How was your birthday? Oh, and Happy belated Birthday!" he says. Laila's thrown he is completely different from the last time they saw him "Happy birthday!" Rose says as she passes over an envelope "Thanks, yeah it was great thanks! Better than I could've imagined" she's cut off by Rose "What did Harry get you?"

Laila's hand automatically goes to her locket, Rose leans over to take a closer look, "Can I open it?" she asks "Yeah, of course" Rose flips it open and coos at the picture "Aww, that is an adorable photo of you both!" Colin leans over to have a look "It's a good one" he comments.

They both sit down "Open your card!" Rose tells her. Opening the envelope and folded up bit of paper falls out, inside it reads:

To Lovely Laila,

Happy Birthday!

We hope you had a great day!

Love Rose & Colin x

P.S. We didn't know what to get you, so we thought this might be nice for you both to enjoy. x

Opening the folded paper its a photo of an old cottage, she looks up at Rose and Colin confused, Harry, take the paper from her to take a closer look, "What's this?" Harry asks his parents "So we didn't know what to get you, so we thought maybe you to might like a free week away in our little cottage in the Cotswold's. Obviously you two can chose any week you want just let us know a few weeks ahead! Harry, don't go telling your brothers or sister!"

"Why?" he chuckles "Because they will all want a week there and I don't trust they won't trash the place" Colin shook his head "I promise we won't trash the place and thank you that's so thoughtful!" the waiter comes over to take their drinks order, Harry leans in close enough so only she can hear "Can't say the same about the bed" he whispers making her blush.

After the starter Rose and Colin are telling them all about their time away in Rome "You have to take Laila there one day!" Rose tells her son. "It's beautiful! Laila, I keep meaning to ask do you cut men's hair?" Colin surprisingly asks her "Yeah, I do"

"She's my hairdresser now" Harry winks at her "Great, do you think you could fit me in?" Colin looks over to her "Erm..yeah, sure when are you free?" She's not sure if this is a joke or not but Colin has done a 360 since the last time. "Weekends probably work out better for me"

She smiles "I work every other Saturday in the salon, but I can come to you if it's easier?" She asks him nervously "3 weeks from now work? At our house?" Laila pulls out her phone that's Saturday is her weekend off "Perfect, any time preference?"

He checks his phone "Shall we say 11 AM then we'll do lunch?" Laila can't quite believe he's asking her to do his hair "Yeah, that would be great!" she's still taken aback by it. Maybe this is him trying to build bridges? She thought.

"Laila?" she hears someone call out from behind him as she looks up, it's Lou, she smiles and gets up to greet her "Lou, how are you?" she asks as she hugs her. Laila's happy that they're at this point.. 6 months ago, Laila could never imagine even looking in Lou's direction, let alone hugging her "Sorry, Louise, this is Rose and Colin, Rose and Colin this is Louise and obviously you've met Harry, they're his parents"

"Oh how lovely to meet you!" Louise smiles "And you!" Rose says as Colin just smiles at her "Laila, you wouldn't mind coming over to our table and saying hello to Steve would you? He'd love to see you!"

"Oh..erm OK!" she looks at Harry "I'll be 2 minutes!" he winks back at her. She felt a bit nervous she hadn't seen Steve in years because she thought it was best to stay away after everything happened considering she might have just let it slip to him out of anger, but now was different she understood why Lou did what she did it. Which was all thanks to Harry, in some ways she had changed for the better because of him, he had made her more forgiving.

Now, instead of blaming her, she gratefully Josh's last day's weren't his worst days. She had seen how cancer can change someone with her Grandad Carelli, he went from running every day with his granddaughter to being to weak too lift a fork.

As they approach the table Steve looks up noticing Laila his face lights up "Laila! Oh wow! It's so good to see you!!" he beams at her.

She smiles back at him.

Back at their table.

Colin looks to where Laila is "Who is this Louise to Laila?" Rose looks over to Harry. He knew what he could and couldn't say, "She's Laila's ex fiancé's Mum" Colin looks shocked "And she's gone over to see him?!" Harry could see his Dad disapproval "No! Steve is his Dad" Rose doesn't know what to say "You're OK with her being friendly with her ex's parents?" Colin almost hisses.

"Yes, I am! Because quite frankly, being jealous of a ghost is a bit ridiculous!" Harry could see the confusion on their face "Laila, ex fiancé died of cancer," he knew he couldn't say anymore than that "Oh god! That poor girl!" Rose is shocked, Colin is speechless "Now can you see why I'm more than happy for her to be friendly with her ex's parents? Even if he was a living ex I would be fine with it because I trust Laila!"

"I can see why...she is a lovely girl" Harry has never heard his Dad say anything like that about any of his girlfriends, but he just put that down to Laila being able to win anyone over because that was the kinda girl she is.

At Lou and Steve's table.

"You know we all missed you after the funeral. You just kinda disappeared" Steve's words make her drown in guilt "Hey! It was hard for all of us Steve, you have to remember she lost someone she was going to marry. We were probably a constant reminder of what she had lost" Louise tries to make excuses for Laila. She's thankful for this "I guess Lou is right! Sorry Laila!"

"You have nothing to be sorry for Steve....honestly, it's like Lou said and to be honest, I needed to grieve by myself," she smiles at him "How are you nowadays?"

"I'm good actually....I'm here with my boy....my boyfriend and his parents," she hated telling him this, but she was already keeping something from him plus surely he didn't expect her never to find anyone after Josh. "Aww, that's sweet! How long have you 2 been together?" he seemed happy for her which was a relief to her "I asked him to be my boyfriend over 2 months ago now" Steve howls "Why doesn't that surprise me! Josh always said if you wanted something you would go out and get it"

She laughs, "He is the first relationship I've had since Josh to be fair!" Lou coos "Does he make you happy?" Lou asks her "You know what he makes me incredibly happy actually," she looks over to Harry, his eyes catch hers and he throws her a wink making her blush. "I'm happy for you! You deserve to be happy...that's all Josh would have wanted for you!" Lou offers her a soft smile.

"Speaking of my boyfriend, I better get back to him! It was lovely seeing you both," she says as she gets up both Steve and Lou hug her.

She makes her way back to Harry and his parents, "Here she is!" Harry smiles and wraps an arm over her shoulder as she sits. The rest of the meal is relaxed and easy.

After they say their goodbyes to his parents, they make their way back to Laila's flat.

When they arrive the front door has been kicked in, worried someone might still be inside Harry tells Laila to call the police and he heads inside. Laila grabs his arm "Harry..."

"Laila, I'll be fine! I just want to check they're not still in there," he pushes the door open and makes his way inside.. he first checks the kitchen, when he hears someone behind him. He spins round, it's Laila holding her handbag like she's about to whack someone "Laila! Go and wait outside!" he whispers "What? and leave you to get attacked? No! Plus I have my bag! Never underestimate a women's handbag!"

"Fine! Just stay close!" he knew there was no point in arguing with her, so he continues to check all the rooms. Each have been ransacked, when they got to the living room on the wall in red spray paint were Cut her out of your life..

Continue reading this story here - Chapter 19.

@ridgy--didge​ @lem-20​ @secretaryunpaid​ @irisofpurple​ @khoicesbyk​ @txemrn​ @tea-me-kah​ @gloriousalmondvoiddreamer​ @casualpostqueen​ @beautifuluknownvoid​

[thewatermelloncat]

Glancing Over

Summary: On a mission and completely out of their depth, the Umbrella Academy realises that it isn’t just their powers that make them a formidable team. It only took them their most underestimated sibling to show them that.

Author’s Note: Inspired by an idea I posted about a while ago. I am so stoked to finally be posting this, let me know what you think.

Warnings: Swearing and violence (not graphic but still be warned).

Tag list:

@alive-and-afraid

@atrono

@candydancey

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If Klaus never heard that alarm again it would be too soon. Groaning dramatically, he rolls over in his tangle of sheets throwing a pillow over his ears. From the darkness outside his window he guesses it can’t be too far past midnight - and honestly, fuck that alarm for waking him up on one of the few nights he had been able to sleep with his insomnia.

Maybe he can fall back asleep, the edges of unconsciousness are still around him. Gripping the pillow tighter over his ears, he closes his eyes and wills himself to drift off again.

“Get up!” Diego calls out from his doorway, throwing a pair of bundled up socks at him.

Klaus growls dramatically turning over to face him, throwing him a glare that would be a lot more threatening if he weren’t still half asleep.

“Everyone’s almost ready to leave” Diego tells him, leaning against the door frame making it clear that he’s not moving.

“I didn’t know the thing still worked” he groans as he quite literally rolls out of his bed before stumbling around to find a change of clothes off his floor.

“We reactivated it after we agreed on doing missions again last week” Diego furrows his brow as Klaus shoves on a shirt – he thought he would have remembered that.

“Oh yeah, right” Klaus recalls, part of him now regretting agreeing to do missions again. “We don’t have to wear those stupid domino masks again, do we?”

Diego scoffs with a dismissive roll of his eyes. “Nah, you’ll never see me in one of those again.”

“What is it anyway?” Klaus asks after jumping his way into a pair of pants and grabbing a pair of boots off the floor.

“Some sort of heist. Luther’s going to brief us in the car” Diego tells him as they set off through the hallways.

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“They’ve boarded up all the entrances” Allison informs as she runs up to them. Her, Five and Vanya having got to the scene before them in their own car.

“We should really invest in a minivan” Klaus notes as the groups join up with each other, but his comment is ignored.

“There’s no other way inside?” Luther asks, looking over to the museum where he can just make out various objects positioned behind the glass doors.

“Not without causing a racket and giving away our position” she tells him.

“Can you jump us inside?” Luther turns to Five.

The smaller boy hums his answer and shrugs his shoulders before they all latch hands and are whisked away.

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“How do you do that all the time?” Diego swallows forcefully after the portal dissipates leaving them standing in the middle of a gallery. “Anyone else feel sick?”

In the corner of his vision he sees Klaus raise his hand but all further of his complaints cut off as Five stumbles next to him.

“You get used to it” Five pants as Diego reaches out to stabilise him. After a few seconds to get his bearings he pushes himself away.

“You would do amazing on rollercoasters” Klaus raises as he pushes himself off the exhibit case he leant against, the world finally stopping spinning.

In a perfect scenario they would have landed in a secluded area where they could analyse the situation and plan a response from the inside. They quickly find this is not the case when a yell sounds from the mezzanine floor behind them. Abruptly they all turn around to see a man dressed in black combat gear raising his gun.

“Five” Luther says lowly.

Five nods his head, taking a step forward to disappear through a portal, though his path is blocked with the air unwilling to part for him. He growls in frustration, his hands clenching into fists and arms tensing as he tries again, only succeeding in turning the air around him blue. For a moment his arms fall limply to his sides as he tries to gather himself. Though before he can try for a third time Diego puts a hand on his shoulder and a knife wizzes past his ear, sinking into the chest of the man before he can pull the trigger.

Gratefully Five nods to him.

“You good?” Diego looks down at him.

“Tired” is all Five says as he rolls his shoulders.

Diego purses his lips and clasps a hand to his brother’s chest as Vanya speaks.

“You don’t think anyone else would have heard him yell?”

“Probably” Luther admits. “Klaus, can you summon the dead to scout the area?”

“I can’t” Klaus says.

“Why not? Have you even tried?”

“Well, Luther – of course I've tried” he quickly adds irritably when the last point registers. “I can’t say that the spirits are exactly happy about having the artefacts that they are connected to stolen.”

“But we’re trying to save them” Luther doesn’t quite understand.

“I’m not talking about the guys stealing them now, they’ve already been stolen” he gestures to the various cultural exhibits around them. “Besides, it’s not like they care that we weren’t the ones who took them.”

Luther draws a blank and goes quiet for a few seconds. “Just use Ben” he suddenly says like it’s obvious.

“I can’t reach him, there’s so many of them. Everything’s too loud.”

“Just settle down” Diego holds out a hand, playing peacemaker. He doesn’t want to imagine the amount of ghosts Klaus is seeing in a place like this, so he pushes for them to move on. “We’ll pair up and scout the surrounding area.”

Everyone falls silent and looks toward him.

“Purely recon, no engaging. Then meet back here in two minutes.”

“Well, anyone got a better idea?” Five asks after a few moments of silence. Habitually they all look to Luther.

“Nope” he shakes his head. “Pair up.”

If purely on habit they pair up in sequential order, moving to stand by their partner.

“Allison and Klaus, take the doors to the left. Five and Vanya, go up the mezzanine. Diego and I will take doors to the right” Luther assigns and they nod at their instructions. “If you run into any trouble yell out and meet back here.”

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It becomes clear as soon as they all separate that they are out of their depth. There are far more people than they thought and they are more heavily armed than anticipated. Each of the pairs barely make it 100 metres into their route before they are forced to turn back.

“There’s a group of about four coming this way” Allison pants as she and Klaus run to re-join the group already waiting back in the gallery. As soon as her words cut off, the offending party step into view behind them.

With a swift motion Diego releases a knife curving through the air, sending the bodies falling to the floor before their guns can be raised.

“We have to get out. This was a mistake” he turns back to the group after catching the knife back in his hand.

“And let them take everything?” Allison snaps at him.

“Better that than die” Diego scoffs.

“Where’s your superhero complex now?”

“Hate to break it to you but Diego’s right. Almost half of us are out of commission” Vanya points out, looking over at Five poking around the unconscious bodies, then at Klaus still standing amongst the group.

“The whole area is surrounded” Five’s voice draws their attention to him studying a screen he’d detached from someone’s belt. “There’s a squad of six heading for us. About 30 seconds.”

The rest of them look away from him then at each other fearfully.

“Did anyone find any exits?” Luther asks to which they all shake their heads. “Five, how many of us can you get out?”

“Maybe one or two” he says but he sounds unsure.

“No way” Diego shakes his head. “We’re not splitting up.”

“I just want to say, that I may not have been the easiest person to” – Klaus’ goodbye speech is cut off by Five calling out his name and a gun being thrown into his hands. Reflexively he catches it as Five picks up one for himself.

“We’re not dying” he says with a cock of his head and a raise of an eyebrow.

Habitually Klaus’ hands go about disarming the safety while Five turns to one of the large doorways, lifting his gun to hold at the ready.

The sound of Klaus’ safety latch clicking off is masked by the echoes of bullets flying around the room. A quick glance back at his siblings shows none of them are ducking for cover and all the bullets are from Five’s gun, the enemy being disastrously unprepared for an attack.

After a short ringing silence, a series of yells and thundering footsteps draws Klaus’ attention back to the doorway, more of their adversaries having been alerted of their presence. Following Five’s lead he finds cover behind an exhibit plinth, his eyes brushing over the bodies that already lie on the floor beneath the doorway. With a soldiering breath Klaus raises his own gun, the metal feels somewhat familiar in his hands but the weight feels heavy in his arms.

He almost feels sick with adrenaline as his finger pushes against the trigger. His eyes focusing on each target just before they collapse. Next to him Five moves positions to get closer to his targets and Klaus shifts to follow him only to freeze suddenly when a glass cabinet shatters to his right.

Spinning on his knees, still crouched on the floor he traces the trajectory of the bullet to the mezzanine behind him. Wasting no time in shooting down the man stationed above.

The limp body folds forward over the balustrade, falling to the floor with a sickening thud a few meters away from the group of huddled siblings. None of them startle, too mesmerised by their two remaining siblings working unexpectedly together.

“Shit!” Five curses throwing away an empty magazine, his ammo having run out.

Without sparing his brother a glance, Klaus finishes off the rest of the targets in the room before they both rise from their cover. No one speaks and the room falls into an uneasy silence as Klaus grabs a magazine from a fallen criminal and throws it to Five. Neither of them pays any mind to their siblings still frozen in shock.

“Any more coming?” Klaus asks Five.

“Try all of them, we’re not exactly being subtle” he quips, shoving the magazine into his gun before reaching to check the stolen screen he’d attached to his belt. “Two groups of about three coming in immediately.”

“What doors?” Klaus asks, staying on the spot making it clear that he’s waiting for Five to direct him.

“Both left and right. No time for anything special, just take cover.”

Klaus makes no argument and they both duck behind a set of shelves barely sparing enough time before bullets start raining over their heads. With their backs against the shelves and their eyes on their siblings they’re thankful to find that the bullets missing them are also missing their siblings – Vanya having thrown a shield up to protect them. Though no one else makes any attempt to do anything to help them, and for the moment neither Five nor Klaus think anything of it.

The short gap between the shooting only allows Five a second to pop up for quick survey of the area before the barrage starts again.

Sinking back behind the shelf Five looks to Klaus and moves his hand in the air like he’s drawing a square before holding up three fingers, not bothering to try and talk over the shots echoing around the gallery.

“What?” Klaus draws his head back, his eyebrows knitting in confusion. He doubts Five can hear him over the weapons firing, but he can lipread.

For a quick second it’s Five’s turn to look at Klaus confused, like he doesn’t know what wasn’t to understand about that. But he soon snaps out of it and repeats himself. “Window” he explains redrawing the square, “three people.”

Klaus can’t help but pick up on a slightly annoyed tone as Five holds up three fingers. Though he’s able to chalk it down to the intensity of the situation and not anything necessarily directed at him.

When the round of fire ends, they both rise from behind their cover and gun down the three men in front of the windows.

“The barriers are too high, we’ll never get a shot from here” Klaus observes after spotting the remaining three men who are spread throughout the room, sheltering behind some of the higher exhibition cases.

“I might be able to get the one on the left” Five says before he pivots away from their shelter. Creeping closer towards his new target he ducks behind new barriers every now and again although it’s unlikely that the men spot him with his small stature, too focused on remaining sheltered. Unfortunately, the man on left’s shelter wasn’t sufficient as Five delivers on his promise, the body finding its final resting place amongst a scatter of glass shards.

With the target down Five looks at the other two men and then back to Klaus before shaking his head, clear that he can’t get the shot. Klaus isn’t sure why, but he looks back after that and an idea pops into his head, seeing the mezzanine floor above him.

Quickly turning back to Five he brings all the fingers of one hand to the top of his head before lowering it again.

“What the fuck?!” Five mouths, throwing his hands in the air.

Klaus spares a moment to roll his eyes. Why did their tactical signals have to not be compatible?

“Cover me!” he clarifies in a language that he knows Five will understand. Part of him half expects Five ask him why or what his plan is, but he doesn’t. He just trusts him as he moves back closer to him so he can be his defence.

He doesn’t even bother to ask what direction Klaus plans to move in, just senses where he goes and moves along with him. None of his shots hit the remaining targets but he isn’t exactly aiming for them to. His round of fire purely meant to keep them hiding behind their shelter and unwilling to risk taking a hit. He continues to fire, ducking behind a display case near the base of the stairs as Klaus mounts them to get to the better vantage point on the mezzanine.

On the second level Klaus doesn’t bother to crouch behind the railing which has far too many gaps in it to be useful. Knowing that he will have to work quickly, he raises his gun and lines up the shots. The first target goes down without a hitch though he barely registers it as he immediately lines up the second.

His final shot seems to echo for eternity in the now silent room. If he allowed himself to, he could probably get lost in the moment of peace and quiet. Though that isn’t something he can allow himself to do quite yet. Instead he lowers his gun and pivots on his heel back to the staircase, descending the steps two at a time on the way back down to Five.

“Any more?”

“Can’t see any – unless they ran off” Five considers as he looks back down at the screen.

And now without an immediate threat Klaus can allow himself to catch his breath. Cool air fills his lungs as he draws in deep breaths, his heartrate slowing. Though before his thoughts can stray too far, he hears Five inhale suddenly like he finally decided on saying something.

“You’re not bad… just so you know” he doesn’t look at Klaus while he says it, choosing to take the magazine out of his gun and throw it across the room, but Klaus can see that he’s impressed from the way his lips are pursed.

He doesn’t know how to respond to that but before he can cover it up with awkward laughter, he sees his siblings step apart as Vanya’s shield comes down.

None of them say anything at first as they take in the sight around them. They are no strangers to a crime scene, the shattered glass and the bodies on the floor don’t phase them, yet they are frozen on their feet and at a loss for words.

“Whoa” Vanya eventually breaths out quietly, her mouth barely moving and her eyes wide.

She’d expected something like that from Five but Klaus had been a wildcard to her. She’s sure that the rest of her siblings could say the same. Apart from Five who had strangely known about their brother’s capabilities far better than the rest of them. In all honesty her brain isn’t working well enough to question that at the moment so she decides to shelve it for later as she steps away from the group.

At Vanya moving from his side Luther steps forward as well, mumbling something about going back to the car and the authorities dealing with the rest of it. None of his words come out making sense sounding like a child learning to speak for the first time, clear that he’s struggling believe what he just saw.

Allison tries to say something a couple of times but words fall short and she gives up. Letting out a breathless scoffing sound she shakes her head in disbelief, blinking a few times. A smile begins to play on the corners of her lips as goes over to join Luther and Vanya waiting for the rest of them.

Words also fail Diego as he walks forward to join the congregating siblings. Uncoordinatedly patting Klaus on the chest a couple of times before clasping a hand on Five’s shoulder as he moves past them.

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The ride home is near soundless aside from gravel under tyres and the occasional passing car. Without anyone willing to speak Klaus spends his time flicking his eyes between Luther taking up the whole front of the car and Diego sitting next to him, mostly staring out the window but sometimes flicking him quick glances when he thinks he’s not looking.

It isn’t until they get inside and Diego sits down next to him at the bar for celebratory drinks, that Klaus realises he hasn’t said anything since the museum. With Allison beginning to pour out the alcohol, Klaus draws in a breath and turns toward him, opening his mouth to say something.

Though as his chair stops spinning, he sees Diego turned to him fixing him with a sceptical gaze, already prepared to speak.

“You scare me.”

[alwaysaboutus10]

Two days after our first real open swap and not just brief play, we spent the entire day texting with our special friends. The text got flirtier as the day went on with no explanation of getting together. Wife and I were getting worked up and played with each other literally all day, our bed looked like a porn store with toys sparlled all over. Evening came and a text come through that read, “burgers on the grill? Turns out we made enough for 4, can’t be late big work day tomorrow. We immediately responded with, “be right there”. His wife chimed in that she was already in her pjs so it’s going to be a casual night. Wife and I get ready like a sophomore going to senior prom with hottest girl in school. My wife looks very elegant in her pjs so I knew he was going to be very happy about Pj night.

We show up an hour before the prescribed eating time and we all sat around the fire table as it has been cold at night in Florida. My once and very recently modest wife decided that her top should come off and that she would be kept warm by the fire. They both instantly went for her, his wife eating her out and him all over her tits and making out with her, so hot. He decided to start to cook and each trip between the house and grill included a stop by my wife for fingering and tit play. They were both really enjoying how casual the encounters were and it became somewhat of a game. Me being the gentleman that I am felt compelled to include his wife so I proceeded to go down on her while she watched him play with my wife.

We managed to eat actual food and then I suggested that we move to the couch. We sat as married couples and she started riding my friend. My wife was stoking me and watching him go in and out of his wife and listening to her moans. Completely turned in, my wife decided to help lubricate the fucking and moves over to lick the base of his cock and suck his balls. AMAZING. play continues for a while when she says, “let’s move to the bedroom”.

Once there, my wife lays spread eagle and the two of them went into full gear. The three of them went crazy, eating each other out, fingering, sucking cock. My wife is a squirter and it became a challenge to see which one of them could make her do it. I can make her on command, but then again it’s my pussy and I know it very very well. I have now slipped into voyer mode and am thoroughly enjoying the show. Stoking myself watching my wife getting ravished was a vision that will stay with me forever, but still somewhat in disbelief that this is actually happening. I call out to my buddy and inform him that my wife would look amazing being fucked by him. He replies with, “dude, I can’t”, much to my confusion I asked why. He tells me that he had a huge work day on Monday and that the reflection of fucking her would be the only thing he could focus on and that he would not be able to work. My wife is a spectacular fuck so I completely understood. My wife informs him that he will have to live with the anticipation of her sweet pussy until next time.

We then paired off, he was fucking his wife hard right next to us and my wife was sucking and jerking me off while I fingered her. Without planning, we all came at the same time and brought an bitter sweet end to our night.

Can’t wait till next time. The anticipation of our next meeting is the most excite part for my wife. Flirty text and pics from Tumblr have been exchanged for the last two days. We are building up for an explosion.

Hope you enjoy our encounters. We are loving this life and wondered if we should have started sooner. We both agree that this happened at the perfect time in our marriage. It just feels very right.

[weshallc]

This is so exciting, can’t wait to see what happens next! (No, I honestly do forget)

Berns Night (Revisited) 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

Call the Midwife AU (Crown Jewels, everyone but Paddy and Bernie at Mount Busby)

Chapter Three: OF MICE AND MEN

“The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men. Gang aft agley. An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain. For promis’d joy!”  To A Mouse by Robert Burns 1785.

“Liars and Lovers Combine Tonight, We’re Gonna Make A Scene.” The Captain by Biffy Clyro 2009.

The largest reception room at Mount Busby Farm would have once been very grand, with Queen Anne furniture and Regency coffee tables. The only thing that remained unchanged was that the original fireplace still gave up warmth and light provided by nature, and the windows let in the light from the same star constellations and the same moon.

The Two Loves preferred antique furniture of a later period and in their 80s comfort was paramount. The room was stocked with love seats, chesterfields, recliners. bean bags, generous cushions, and a rather charming gold settee that suspiciously looked pre-war. Just no one was sure which war. Everyone mocked it, but everyone fought to sit on it as it was very comfy. Patsy often talked about replacing it, but Delia wouldn’t hear of it. “You don’t throw your memories out with the rubbish and there are more memories than just ours hidden within these cushions, Cariad.” That was always the end of it.

The most current occupants of that particular settee to be making memories were Tim Turner and Lucille Anderson. Phyllis looked over at the awkward teen, who was no longer as awkward as he had once been. He sat comfortably chatting to his companion, both of them laughing at intervals. Lucille often finishing Tim’s sentences or him proclaiming, yep that’s it or knew you’d get it when they appeared to reach a level of understanding.  Of course, when she asked the student nurse about her new friendship, she would just reply, brushing the older nurse off. “Oh, he is a dear boy; He makes me laugh.”

He was certainly doing that from where Matron Crane was sitting on a leather tan Whitworth dining chair, probably by Frank Hudson.  Years of heavy lifting before the introduction of patient hoists and transfer boards had taken their toll on the matron’s back. It was why she had found herself in a more managerial role much earlier than she would have planned. She looked at Student Nurse Anderson and thought maybe the NHS was in more tender capable hands than the shitstirrers would have them believe.

“I am wondering if we should start,” youth minister Tom Hereward was on his feet. “I am not sure how long baby will sleep in a strange house.”

“I have been called many things in my time, but not sure strange is one of them,” laughed Delia.

“Oh, I have Deals, it’s fine,” reassured Patsy.

Tom turned pink. Trixie leaned over to him, “They are joking,” and sat back onto the giant purple pouffe she was sharing with Valerie. “I know, I live here. I have to put up with it all the time.”

“So. Erm who is in charge, who has the most authority here.” Tom was still trying to create some sense of order.

“Well, Julia is the vicar,” chirped in Bobby, trying to offer her husband some support.

“But this is not the church,” Rev Julia responded with a warm smile.

“Another shock there then, it’s all coming out tonight, Patsy.” Delia couldn’t help herself when she had an audience and a bottle of Prosecco was being passed round.

“Matron Crane is on the council,” Lucille reminded everyone.

“No, I don’t think that matters lass, it’s not a council matter.” Phyllis shook her head.

“Well, someone needs to take the lead,” Tom said with a hint of irritation.

“I will!  On the authority that I am a young woman on her only night off of the week,” struck up Val, “but I have agreed to come here and discuss plans for Bernie’s birthday instead of having two for one sex on the beach.”

“It’s a cocktail, and its happy hour in the Fourteen Teacups on a Tuesday,” Trixie interpreted for everyone.

“That’s ambitious having a happy hour in the Teacups, isn’t it?”  said Fred, who had managed to wedge himself into a deep red Chesterfield.

“Yeah, apparently Ursula gives you the right change, that’s why they call it happy hour,” Tim smirked.

“As I am representing the Crown. I will continue,” said Val and she did, “we want to put on a Burns Night for Bernie’s birthday like in the old days. Now Tim has told us Paddy is half Scottish.”

“Why isn’t he here?” asked Bobby.

“Well, he said it would look suspicious if he left Bernie on her tod behind the bar on a Tuesday night,” Vi explained sitting on a scarlet love seat next to Fred.

“Yep, in case our two Tuesday night regulars rush the bar at once,” snorted Val.

“I think it’s more that it would look suspicious if he actually just left Bernie alone for five minutes,” Trixie corrected.

Lucille felt Tim squirm in the seat beside her. She knew he thought the world of Bernie, but didn’t like to hear her relationship with his father discussed in public. This was inevitable being a small village with one pub, one church and two of the village's most popular inhabitants linked to both. She tried to ease his tension.

“I think it’s lovely, just shows as my grandma used to say there may be snow on the roof, but there is still fire in the grate.”

As everyone surrendered to laughter, Matron shared a smile with the vicar, both of them confirming Lucille might be familiar with the saying, but maybe not its meaning.

Delia was the first to keep a straight face, “But they are only bairns, wait until they are mine and Pats age then the fire may need a little bit of stoking.”

“Yes, Deals, but remember we have never required the use of a poker.”

Val swiftly continued, “Paddy doesn’t wish to be involved.”

“Why?” Reggie asked, perched on his wooden stool.

Val motioned towards Tim, who was still recovering from the last topic of conversation.

“Because it would look ridiculous, his words not mine.” Tim continued, “and I quote, Wilf had the works, I would look like I was trying to pull a stunt to impress Bernie by looking like I was dressing in drag and taking the piss.”

Tim looked at his knees, and Lucille gave one a quick squeeze. She knew this wasn’t easy for him.

Everyone else also looked at their knees. The mood was solemn.

“We can all understand Paddy’s reasons.” There were a couple of nods and sighs in response. “But we aren’t putting up with any of that nonsense,” Val added with a grin.

This was met with a very large and unanimous cheer.

“Well, I’ve already looked up the Turner tartan,” Trixie handed an iPad over to Patsy via Val.

“That’s very smart,” approved the artist.

“Sorry I hate to throw a spanner in the works, but how are we going to afford all this?” butt in a pensive Vi.

“We’ve already thought of that,” grinned Delia, ”Mount Busby will cover the cost of the costume.”

“That’s very generous,” sniffed Evie, who had nearly dozed off in a leather recliner.

“Not really,” explained Patsy. “I have a friend that works for Kilts 4 U and they are very interested in looking into the possibility of making an alpaca lined sporran.”

This was news to Reggie who followed anything relating to his charges with great interest, “What’s a sporran?”

“It’s where he keeps his spare change,” Fred enlightened, or at least tried to.

“It’s the little purse that men wear at the front of the kilt, Reggie,” Violet elaborated. He seemed reassured by this.

“So anyway, in return for a few samples,” Patsy continued, “my friend will be happy to hire out the full regalia for the evening.”

“It’s not long now until Burns Night have you got some sort of prototype ready?” quizzed Evie.

“Lady K is working on them as we speak. She loves nothing better than fiddling with a bit of alpaca wool,” Delia replied gleefully.

“Lady K?” Phyllis queried.

“Yes, she is very creative,” reassured Trixie.

“I don’t doubt it, Trixie, but she is one of Bernie’s clients. What if the lass sees what she is up too”

“Don’t fret Phyllis,” Patsy interjected, “I find that Antonia is much less forgetful when she has an occupation to challenge her and I am certain she won’t let the cat out of its proverbial bag.”

Jack sat on the floor accidently banged his head against the fire surround he was leaning against, “Can’t imagine Berns thinking; oh look Lady K is sticking bits of alpaca wool to a man’s bag he hangs in front of his todger. That must be something to do with Paddy and my birthday”

Vi was quick to admonish Jack, but when even Tom started to laugh, she decided to let it go.

“What about the little knifey thing they keep in their sock that he stabs the Haggis with?” Fred was beginning to get excited.

“Sgian dubh,” corrected Vi.

“All part of the traditional dress,” Patsy added a tone to her voice to reassure everyone that she had thought of everything.

“So that’s the gear sorted. Me and Reggie are in charge of the beer. What else?” Fred’s eyes were wide, thinking they actually might be able to pull this off.

“Well, myself and Evie have created a menu, pretty much on the lines of what we used to do in Wilf’s day.” Violet opened a small notebook and put on her reading glasses.

Clearing her throat she read, “Cock-a-leekie soup, Scottish salmon and tattie scones or scotch egg for starters.”

“Cock a what?” shouted up Jack.

“Chicken and vegetable soup to you, young man. There will be a just vegetable option too.” Violet’s voice began to take on the air it adopted when addressing an audience. “Then we have the Haggis or vegan Haggis, neeps and tatties and a whisky sauce.”

“What about those that might not wish to partake in the Haggis?” Tom asked nervously, as he might.

Evie spoke up before Vi could respond. “There is always the Fourteen Teacups for the likes of those that don’t wish to have Haggis. It’s a Burns Night. If you don’t want Haggis, then stay at home and order in a pizza.”

“What’s for pudding?” Bobby struck up, squeezing her husband’s hand.

“Cranachan which is raspberries, cream, oats and whisky, or Clootie pudding with whisky sauce or whisky ice cream or a Scottish cheese board with oatcakes.”

Murmurs of approval were aimed in Violet’s direction.

“That’s a lot of whisky?” Lucille remarked.

Violet agreed, “Yes, we need just a house whisky for everyone for the toasts Val, I will leave that to you, but you need to pay the piper with a good quality malt.”

Silence broke out in the previously buzzing, over occupied living room.

“Piper!” Several people groaned at once.  

Fred, who was not going to let anything get in the way of this Burn’s Night declared, “Look, we will just have to bung on a recording.” Turning to Tim and Jack, he said, “You lads look up the Red Hot Chilli Pipers on your phones.”

Tim reached for his phone, swiping the picture of Lucille and him with Alpaca Colin. But Lucille touched his hand, making him hesitate.

“I don’t think that would be very suitable, Mr Buckle going to all this trouble with such a delicious menu and Mr Turner all dressed up in the finest regalia and then having some squeaky din coming out of an iPhone.”

“Your right lass, it just won’t do,” supported Phyllis.

“Well, does anyone know a piper?” Fred replied wearily.

“Surely we can find a professional one online?” contributed Julia

“A professional piper that’s free on Burn’s Night at this late notice,” chided Phyllis.

“I know a piper.”

The voice came from the back of the room. Everyone turned to look at the slight dark-haired woman sat on a dining chair. “Well, I think we all do.”

“Do we, Jane?” Julia asked.

“Yes, the busker that stands outside the town hall in Appleby Thornton.”

Everyone started talking at once;

“I only go into town every second Tuesday to get my hair done.”

“Same here I only go through if I have a doctor’s appointment.”

“Well, it’s the cost of the parking isn’t it, it’s free at Tweaven Retail Park and more shops.”

“You can get it on t’internet delivered to your door.”

“I haven’t been since Marks and Spencers closed.”

“Debenhams is closing next week such a shame, that shops older than me, always been a department store in Appleby Thornton.”

“It was one of the first in the country to have a lift, you know.”

Jane cleared her throat. “There are a lot of good things about Appleby Thornton that are not always obvious.”

“Here, here!” chimed in Val, “there is still a Primark.”

“Oh well, let’s be grateful for small mercies,” stung back Trixie.

Much to Delia’s disappointment, Val bit her lip. The ex-nurse and market gardener loved a full house. She cherished her quiet times with Patsy too, but she was the more sociable of the pair. The farm was large enough for Patsy to have her office and art studio and not be disturbed while Delia fussed the alpacas with Reggie. Trixie moving in had been Patsy’s scheme, but Delia was the one who had benefited most from their new project, even if she would never let their new employee know she was a project.

Delia enjoyed listening to Trixie’s anecdotes and gossip. She felt reconnected with a world that was moving so fast. The Two Loves were business women and technology hadn’t passed them by.  It was the music, the celebrities, the trashy telly that Patsy despised and Delia loved that made having Trixie and her friends around delight Delia.

Delia’s carer probably wasn’t as up-to-date with pop culture as Trixie and her friend. Val was now a frequent visitor to Mount Busby, as she and their new lodger had struck up quite a friendship. Nurse Bernie always looked a bit behind the door when the other two were in full flow about some reality TV show.

But since Trixie had moved in, Nurse made Delia’s blood pressure check the last visit on her rounds and she drank tea, sitting and chatting with Trixie. Bernie didn’t need to watch Love Island. She had her own romantic paradise in Poplar-on-Tweaven and Delia couldn’t be more happy for her.

Val had bitten her lip, her new friend was still a bit of an enigma to her. She did know Trixie might talk as if she had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth, but in the last few months she had gleaned enough to know that spoon had been tarnished sometime ago. So in spite of all her bravado, Trixie was as familiar with Poundland as she was with Prada.

It was Julia who cut through the chatter. “I believe I am familiar with the young man you are referring to. He has a small dog with him if I am right?”

“Yes, Reverend.” Jane was beginning to believe she had dreamt the piper and maybe also Appleby Thornton.

“He’s rather good, as I remember.”

Jane was beaming as she nodded.

“So problem solved,” Fred rubbed his hands together with glee, “tot of whisky, a bowl of water for the pooch, bob’s your uncle, sorted”

“No, it certainly is not.” Trixie’s tone caused everyone to alter their gaze, “this man is a professional musician surely, if he has a regular spot he has a license. I am sure Chummy is well acquainted with the gentleman and his story. We can ask her.”

Inspector Noakes had been unable to attend the meeting because of work commitments, and Peter’s Tuesday evenings were spent running a youth football team that Jack and Timothy had both enjoyed being a part of. Alas, Tim had become too rangy and prone to injury, and Jack had become too lazy and prone to chips.

Trixie continued, “He deserves an appropriate wage for his efforts.” She turned to Val. “I believe the Crown has an entertainments licence.”

Val nodded and smiled reassuringly at her friend, “Paddy does, leave it with me and I will also make sure he and the mut are fed and provided with transport both ways.”

Trixie relaxed and shared a smile with the aromatherapist sitting at the back of the room. “Do you know his name?”

“Kevin.”

Fred let out a huge sigh. “So we are all sorted then?”

“It would appear so,” replied Lucille, grimacing at Tim.

“Apart from Dad.” groaned Tim.

Followed by an echo of sighs.

“Leave your dad to me, Chick.” winked Val.

[hopelessromanticspoonie]

Monsoon Season

Chapter: 2 of 2 (Find Chapter 1 here)

Characters: James Conrad x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Perhaps James Conrad isn’t so polite after all.

Warnings: Smut. Consensual sex with protection, if you want to get technical.

A/N: This began as a request from @yespolkadotkitty, and turned into much more than either of us had actually intended. I also stole the prompt ‘Forget just being polite’ from her 30 days of Smut sub celebration, so please go check out her page for that in the coming days! Thank you for this ask, dear one, as it allowed me to write for a character I’d never considered before! I hope it meets the expectations that you had from your original ask!

Taglist for Monsoon Season: @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @phoenixwench @caffiend-queen @jessiejunebug @it-jinxed-us

Permanent Taglist (open): @just-the-hiddles @nonsensicalobsessions @vodka-and-some-sass @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @myoxisbroken​ @blah666 @brokenthelovely @myworddump @polireader @wiczer @littleredstarfish​ @the-broken-angel-13​ @arch-venus25​

“Polite?” he leaned into your touch for the shortest of moments before his head fell back to the pillow. “Not always. But when the situation calls for it, yes.”

The neon glow that trickled into the room reflected off of his eyes, losing the lightness in them but revealing his scrutinizing stare as he looked up at you. Digging deep for a boldness that you didn’t normally possess, driven by the desire that had been lingering on the edges of your thoughts, you let your hand fall to his chest. Your fingers toyed with the soft undershirt he wore slowly. “And what does the situation call for now?”

He exhaled a short laugh that didn’t match the uptick of his heartbeat beneath your explorative touch. “Rest. You’ve had a trying day, and I’m sure your colleagues are concerned about you. We will want to seek them out as soon as possible in the morning.”

Rejection stung, settling like a lead weight in your stomach that smothered the hopeful torch you had been burning for him since you first laid eyes on him. Patting his chest twice, you rolled over, placing your back to him. And despite the humid heat that clung to you like a second skin, you fell asleep, the exhaustion of your first day in the foreign country too great for your mild discomfort to overcome.

When you woke some hours later, it was still dark outside, and you suspected the culprit for your wakened state had to do with the sweat that slicked your skin where James had wrapped his body around yours. Your shirt had slipped up in the night, revealing your stomach where his arm now rested heavily across it, and your legs were entwined together intimately. You were especially aware of his thigh pressed against your core, heavy and hot.

It was doing nothing but stoke the flames of desire back to life within you.

Bracing for disappointment, you lifted your hand from the bed to fall onto his back, rubbing it gently to wake him.

He woke with a start, rocketing up to straddle your hips, his hands propping him up over you on either side of your head. His eyes were hard, focused, as he glanced around the room, staring into the shadows.

“Easy there, easy,” you soothed, reaching up to smooth one hand over his chest beneath his collarbone, the other rubbing circles into the band of steel cables that comprised his bicep, taut and ready for an unseen enemy that lived only in his memories.

When his alert gaze finally fell down to you, you smiled softly despite your concern. “It’s just us, it’s okay. Hey there, soldier.”

The hard line of his back loosened, but only slightly, his held breath coming out in a rush as he sat back on his ankles, still holding your hips captive between his knees. “Apologies, miss.”

“Always so polite.” You smirked, letting your hands fall down to rest on his thighs, mostly bare to you for the shortness of his boxers.

His eyes blazed over your prone form, lighting a path on your skin that you could only hope he would extinguish with his touch. You were sure you looked a mess, skin glistening with sweat, hair mussed, dressed in his worn clothing, but you didn’t care. For once in your life you felt reckless, needy, and curious enough to give yourself to the man who slowly let a fingertip run down your arm to smooth over the back of your hand.

“What do you want, James? It’s okay…”

You could practically hear the gears turning in his head, but you gave him time, completely still beneath him. His temple ticked. Slowly but surely, the hardness left his eyes, replaced with a burning desire that made your thighs tighten in anticipation.

“Forget just being polite,” he growled, just before he pitched forward onto his hands on either side of you, dropping his head down to yours.

For the suddenness of the action, the kiss was soft, questioning, his plush lips molding to yours. Your hands skated up his body to slide beneath his undershirt, delighting in the clench of his lean muscles. He shuddered beneath your touch, and the kiss became harder, full of pent-up passion that tasted like salt and alcohol and sin as his tongue tangled with yours. He coaxed out soft gasps from you with the play of his hands up your sides, catching on the fabric of your borrowed shirt and tugging it up and over your head.

A moment of shyness overtook you in the soft darkness, the sudden rush of air hardening the tips of your breasts into pebbled peaks that ached for the relief of his touch, and your hands left him to cover your chest quickly.

The purse of his kiss-swollen lips, shiny in the glowing red light, drew your attention as he shushed your hesitancy quietly. “Perhaps I should make it even between us?”

Upon your confused nod, he sat back on his heels once again, tugging off his undershirt and dropping it behind him without much thought. He allowed you to look your fill, your eyes greedily dragging over every inch of exposed flesh, following in the furrows between the muscles that flexed across his torso with each shallow breath above you.

“Beautiful,” you breathed, voicing the only thought that resounded in your head at the glorious sight. He looked to be sculpted by the greatest artist, the ideal combination of agility and strength that promised surety of his body and the knowledge to use it.

He chuckled, the sound low and deep as he stretched out beside you, hooking one leg in between your own. His thigh found the place it had inhabited when you woke, applying steady pressure to the throbbing heat at your core. You squirmed, unable to stop your hips from pressing into him to increase the pleasant sensation.

The lust that darkened his eyes was unmistakable as he palmed one of your breasts, rolling a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Is this what you want, darling?”

Your hand found purchase in his slightly curled hair, scratching lightly along his scalp in a way that made his eyes flutter. “You,” you whispered, your words weak for the air that you couldn’t seem to pull from the room at his expert play of your breast. “I want you, Conrad.”

That seemed to be the only permission that he needed. He dipped his head to your unattended breast, capturing the hardened pebble in between his lips, sucking and nipping at the peak in turn. The rasp of his short beard against your delicate flesh only added to the eroticism of the intimate act. Shocks of electricity traveled down your writhing body to gather at your core, flooding you with pleasure that gathered in between your legs.

Your hands traveled down the great expanse of his back, sliding beneath his underwear to cup his backside, urging his hips to rock against you. The length of his arousal was insistent through the thin fabric, pushing into your thigh. Somehow you managed to slide your hand in between your rolling bodies to grasp him in your palm, stroking him lazily in a way that made him gasp your name against your skin.

In one efficient move, he released you from his grasp and divested you both of your underwear. He resumed his position once you were both fully bare to the other, tasting the flushed skin of your jaw as his hand ghosted down your torso, over your stomach, to tease over the wet heat at the juncture of your thighs.

Unabashed in your desire, your hips bucked upwards, seeking the friction you craved to ease the constant hum of electricity that surged through your veins. He licked over your rapid pulse on your neck, sighing when his fingers finally dipped into you. You inner muscles clenched around his long, thick fingers, desperate to hold him there and ease the ache he had created within you. He beckoned you to your release with the curl and thrust of his fingers, aided by the circling of his thumb over your throbbing pearl at the top of your sex.

You could only dig your fingers into the thin sheets as you fell into the abyss of your ecstasy, gasping for air and control and a hold onto the moment as your body clenched and trembled beneath him. He worked you through your orgasm, peppering your shoulder with light kisses and stroking his hand slowly inside of you.

When your back finally settled back on the bed from its bowed position, your eyes fluttered open with a lazy, contented smile on your lips. He kissed it away, tasting your passion with the sweep of his tongue inside your mouth. His body shifted over yours, and he swallowed your moan when he settled in the cradle of your thighs, his cock gliding in between your slick folds to press against your sensitive bundle of nerves with each rut of his hips.

“James, do you…?” You couldn’t continue your thought, capturing your bottom lip in between your teeth and arching your neck into his mouth as he explored the column of your neck in an open-mouthed caress that curled your toes.

“I am always prepared for any situation,” he replied teasingly, grazing your skin with his teeth before rolling off of you, rummaging around in the bedside table for a condom. Ever the soldier.

You tossed your arm over your forehead, attempting to gather your wits about you in the brief intermission, but the sight of him sliding the thin rubber protection over his length, stroking himself a few times after the hasty process, sucked all the moisture from your mouth to gush between your thighs.

His eyes glittered in the darkness, his smile wicked as he came back to you, sliding his arms between your back and the mattress to hook his hands over your shoulders. He nudged at your slick opening with his head, teasing you, making you whine from deep in your throat.

“Please, James, please…”

His forehead came to rest against yours and he nudged your nose with his, an affectionate gesture so at odds with the obscene cant of his hips against yours. “If the lady insists.”

And your hands scrambled for purchase along his body, gripping onto the angles of his shoulder blades as he slowly slid within you. He was much bigger than he had felt in your hand, and your forehead pushed into his as you held your breath, letting it out in broken pants once he was fully seated inside of you. He was big, searing you with the length and thickness of his erection, and it was all you could do to draw in a ragged gasp when his hips involuntarily twitched from the spasm of your inner walls.

“Are you alright?” he questioned, unwrapping one arm from around you to push a lock of hair from your face tenderly.

You squeezed yourself around him, testing the waters, and his answering moan rumbled through his chest into yours. His head fell beside yours. “May I take that as a yes?”

“I thought you said forget about being polite,” you teased, running a hand down to his backside to push him deeper into you. “Take me, James. Please.”

It was like a switch flicked inside of him. He sat up on his knees, his hands wrapping around your thighs to angle you into position, before he began thrusting into you in a punishing pace. Your eyes reveled in the sight of him, his head tilted back toward the ceiling, his lips parted to send his moans of pleasure to the ceiling. The arch of his neck in the crimson neon light was enthralling, capturing your attention until he hit just the right spot inside of you that made liquid heat shoot through your limbs, shuttering your eyes to the intensity of it.

You were sent careening into orgasm, blood roaring in your ears and back bowing as if you could escape the mind-numbing magnitude of it. Static spread over your skin as you melted into the bed, languid and liquid, slowly becoming aware of him shifting so that his weight was put on his straight arms by your sides.

The new position seemed to be just what he needed to chase his own bliss, judging by the furrow in his forehead and the scrunch of the skin around his clenched eyes. You squeezed around him in time with his erratic thrusts and splayed your hands across his chest. “Let go. It’s okay.”

Your name was shouted to the heavens in time with stuttering thrusts into you before he stilled, his entire body going taut with his throbbing release that you felt deep inside. He fell onto the bed beside you, disposing of the protection before pulling you against his side.

You settled underneath his arm, laying your arm across his flat stomach and pressing your lips over his speeding heartbeat in his throat. He nuzzled into your hair with a contented sigh that washed over you, a mixture of pride and satisfaction buzzing happily deep in your sated bones.

“I truly hadn’t meant for that to be the outcome of the evening,” he confessed with a huff of a laugh.

You tilted your head up to peck a chaste kiss to his lips. “I hadn’t either. But what was I, an innocent civilian, meant to do when rescued by a handsome stranger with a devilishly distracting voice and a statuesque body?”

The expression in his eyes was nothing but fond and tender as he smiled down at you, his deft fingers tracing lazy circles over your hip and in the dip of your spine. “I am glad that it was I who came to your aid, if this is how you show your gratitude.”

You draped your thigh over his waist with a shake of your head. “You wound me, sir. I wouldn’t come to bed with just anyone. No, you’re…” You sought the proper word as your eyes traced over the handsome planes of his face to settle on his eyes. They gleamed with adoration that wrapped around your heart and squeezed. “You’re special, James Conrad. Good, even with the rough edges.”

His hug was all-encompassing, pressing your bodies together securely, nothing sensual about the action. The decommissioned soldier beneath you was safety personified, and the band of his arms around your back was a balm on the lonely ache that you hadn’t even realized existed until he had come along.

“How long are you in Vietnam?”

You let your fingernails play with the whiskers covering the sharp edge of his jaw idly. “Two months.”

He rolled your bodies carefully, pinning you beneath him, his thumbs stroking the sides of your head from his forearms on either side of you. “May I see you again?”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, soldier boy.”

He laughed, an open, elated sound that warmed you in ways his expert touch could not. He nuzzled his nose against yours and tickled your ribs, your laughter joined his, drowning out the pouring rain and rolling thunder that couldn’t touch either of you for the bubble of peace you had created.

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

Amy Lee on 'The Chain' Cover and Next Evanescence Album: 'We're Definitely in the Mood to Rock'

The band plans to record and release its first set of all-original music in 2020.            

When Amy Lee recorded Fleetwood Mac’s “The Chain” as a one-minute trailer for the Gears 5 video game, she did it as a solo project. But she knew right away that she wanted to turn it into a full-band track with her group Evanescence.

“It’s something I [could] totally visualize as a band,” she says. “We all love Fleetwood Mac, so I asked if we could do a full song, and they were stoked about that. We took it and ran with it.”

Since its Nov. 22 release, “The Chain” has hit No. 1 on Billboard’s Rock Digital Song Sales chart, selling 10,000 downloads and logging 963,000 streams, according to Nielsen Music. When recording the track, the band put a whole orchestra on it, whereas such effects heard in the trailer are synth-based.

“Being able to take it all the way by having real, full orchestra is something that I’ve always loved,” says Lee (who conversed with Billboard prior to the riot that occurred Nov. 30 at Knotfest Meets Forcefest in Mexico City, after Evanescence and Slipknot canceled their sets due to safety concerns). “I really feel like part of our sound is that living, breathing orchestra, that sort of cinematic score element. I am a little bit of a nerd and was influenced by classical music at an early age, so for me, that’s part of what takes it all the way from making something into an Evanescence song.”

When Lee has an idea or is approached about an endeavor such as the trailer, the “vibe and spirit” are what indicate to her if it would fit either as a solo project or an Evanescence song. Lee says “The Chain” won’t appear on the new album the group is now writing with the intent to record and release in 2020.            

“I am the thing that has been the constant and I am the core writer for Evanescence since the beginning, so in a way it’s like, ‘Well, then we can do whatever I want,'” she says, while also recognizing that “there is something about our brand and our band that’s much bigger than myself, and it has been a collaborative effort by many people over the years.” She feels that part of it is “the heart, part of it is the production and the instrumentation that can always be added -- but I think that from the core, for me, some songs feel like Evanescence songs, [and] some don’t.”

“The Chain” also is a stopgap for the band in regard to releasing a single. Evanescence’s last such release was& “Imperfection” from 2017’s Synthesis — where it recast previously recorded songs with complete orchestration — which reached No. 29 on Rock Digital Song Sales. The last brand-new song the act released was “The Other Side” from 2011’s Evanescence; it peaked at No. 36 on Mainstream Rock Songs.

Lee says “The Chain” won’t appear on the new album the group is now writing with the intent to record and release in 2020. “It’s just something that came up that we wanted to do,” she notes. “We’re in a cool state right now of awesome multitasking ’cuz we’re off and on tour, then we’re also writing for the new album and taking cool little opportunities like this one to make a piece of music for something else.”

The act carves out space to write during times like the beginning or end of a tour, and also works through online file sharing. Lee enjoys the energy of collaboration, but also likes to “reflect and create new music by myself without a ticking clock, you know -- just when inspiration strikes, just to flush out ideas in my own time. But then that’s cool because we can share ideas with each other while we’re apart and think about ’em separately, then come to the table for our next sort of band camp with ideas about something that’s already started.”

Lee anticipates that instead of staying in one studio from start to finish, Evanescence will take a piece-by-piece approach to recording. “We’re going to get a few songs that we know we’re ready to record that we love and go into the studio with a producer,” she explains. “Then we’re going to keep working and maybe try out a different producer on those couple songs.” She’s also considering not releasing all of the songs at once -- but Lee calls Evanescence “an album band,” meaning that “at the end of the project, there has to be a full album for us. I just feel like that’s who we are.”

Although writing is in the early stages, Lee feels like things are in a good place. “We have a nice collection of songs, and a vibe and a theme is starting to develop, and I’m really excited about where it’s headed," she says. "I don’t want to give too much away because it has a long way to go, but we’re definitely in the mood to rock. It’s dark and heavy.” Given that it has been eight years since Evanescence’s release, Lee feels it’s important to show how the group has grown, as well as capture what it is now. “I’m excited to wrap all that up, but we’ve been enjoying kind of erring on the heavy side right now because we just came off of Synthesis. It feels like it’s time to get in there and go for it.”

Lee attributes part of that growth to the addition of Jen Majura, who joined in 2015 after guitarist Terry Balsamo left, and she’s quite happy to have her. “She has added a lot to our live shows because she’s the singer. It has been a really awesome thing to have live background vocals for the first time,” Lee enthuses. “I am such a fan of layered vocals, and to have that better represented at our show has been a cool breakthrough for me. And also, she’s just rad energy. She’s got a great attitude, fun personality, very engaging, killer onstage, so she has been a fun addition to our family. And of course, it’s awesome having another girl in the band for the first time.”

Speaking of having another woman present, Lee also is uniting with females on the road. During the 2017-2018 Synthesis Live tour, Evanescence split headlining slots with violinist Lindsey Stirling. Come next spring, the quintet will pair with Dutch symphonic metal act Within Temptation, which is fronted by vocalist Sharon den Adel, for the 2020 Worlds Collide Tour that launches in Europe in April. “It’s on a larger scale than we’ve done in a while,” says Lee of the production values, “so I’m excited to bring some really big production into the game we haven’t had in a minute.”

Given that fan demand sparked the tour -- both sets of followers had suggested the lineup -- will Lee and den Adel join forces onstage like Lee did with Stirling during the Synthesis Live era? “I don’t have an answer for that because we need to talk about it, but I would love to,” admits Lee. “We need to have that conversation to see what we’re going to do out there.”

She says she was fairly unfamiliar with Within Temptation until last year, and when Evanescence checked out one of the outfit's live shows, she says they were all blown away.

“It makes me feel a special kind of pride to share the stage with another powerful female [like Sharon] and to watch her do what I do,” says Lee. “I feel proud and inspired when I watch other women do amazing things onstage, and I was very impressed by her performance -- and excited for us to be able to go on tour together, so that we can be a part of that every night.”