#debating on adding another page and making my life harder

[bitterpngs]

i should really spend more time planning out paneling you’d think i’d learn after the constant reordering i do sometimes

[joels6string]

More Than My Father's Son

Joel Miller x OFC

Chapter 15 - Bring it Home

Summary: The walls of Jackson finally welcome you home after months away.

Rating: E

Word Count: 6.4k

Content: NSFW, high levels of violence normal to the TLOU world, angst, fluff, miscommunication trope (it’s Joel Miller…), slow burn, Joel’s traumatic childhood, getting together, smut, canon divergence after SLC, fix it fic

Your fingers drifted over the icy metal of the doorknob, it had been weeks since you’d slept alone, and suddenly the thought of doing so again made you uneasy.

Chapter 14 || Series Masterlist

When Joel emerged from the darkened back rooms, the blood of two clickers splattered along his coat and his machete dripping, the archive room was empty. His chest was heaving, the fight slightly harder than he was anticipating, and his lungs burning as he took off in a sprint, searching through the endless corridors for any sight of you. He’d asked you to stay put, but he should have known you’d do the exact opposite. 

“Millie!” he called out, “Millie! God damnit…” he added on as a hushed curse. 

“Over here.” He hated the tone of your voice already. 

Amid a sea of pages and strewn magazines, he found you on your knees, chin to your chest, your eyes fixated on something in your lap. He approached slowly, coming up behind you and crouching down to peer over your shoulder, finding you staring down at photos from a ballet show published in one of the magazines. Scanning the page for whatever was triggering your damn near catatonic state, he found nothing of note until he reached the tips of your fingers covering a picture in the bottom right corner. 

There was no resistance when he pushed your hand to the side, a young woman with eyes in his favorite shade of green coming into view. 

He’d recognize that smile anywhere, even on a much younger face. What the article was about he didn’t care, and he suspected you didn’t either, but the blatant reminder of what life had once been was never something easy to swallow. Whatever makeup you were wearing did well to mask the freckles he knew we were being suffocated, but your shoulders were still decorated with each and every mark he intended to press his lips to at the first chance he got. Your lips were rosy pink, as were your cheeks, smoky makeup making the entrancing color of your eyes even more magnetic, the skin of your nose and cheeks smooth and unmarked by scars and time.

But it wasn’t you. Not his version anyway.

Pulling the book from your fingers, he rolled it and tucked it into his back pocket. He debated what to do with it as he pulled your hands into his; would you be ready one day? Or would this always haunt you? Taking it home was best, just in case, and if he had to keep it tucked in the attic until the pages molded then so be it. 

“Forgot what my face looked like,” you mumbled, tugging your hands from his, “At least now you get to see…”

“I don’t give a shit,” he’d barely let you get your words out, and when your eyebrows knit together he knew that was a little too harsh.

Thick fingers tipped your chin up, followed by three reverent pecks to the pink line across your face, your eyes pinching closed as you resisted the wave of emotion cresting in your stomach. Before he could pull away, you grabbed his lips with your own. It had been over a week since you’d done more than a soft kiss to his throat at night, someone had always been around, tasks needed to be done, and bodies were too tired to do anything more than collapse in a heap on whatever surface was the makeshift bed of the night. Now, you took advantage, unable to ignore the way your heart sped up and your skin heated despite the cool air surrounding you. 

His jacket was too thick, your fingers craved something thinner to feel him through, the thought of it being nothing at all sending another jolt to your stomach. You’d turned to face him, knees slotted between his bent ones as he continued to perch on his feet, your hands fisted in his worn flannel shirt. It was your tongue that begged for entrance this time, his lips parting at the gentlest brush and meeting your fervor in kind. 

A cloud of dust puffed up from the ground when he toppled backward, finally losing his balance, his hands bracing his unsteady body on the floor as your knees slid around his waist. He opted to settle down on his elbows, your chest following his down as you refused to lose contact with him for even a second. There was no fight for dominance, he was happy to follow your lead, allowing you to take his air and find comfort in the way your mouths pressed and pulled. It was natural the way he led you down further, laying flat on his back to give his hands the freedom to grip your hips and explore your thighs, your hands moving to either side of his head to hover over him.

The world disappeared in the fiery shroud of your hair, the dirty tresses that had fallen out of your top knot hours ago caging you into a world all your own. Soft grunts and whimpers echoed off the cavernous walls, the speed picking up as it all grew messier. The desire, the need, the euphoric feeling of his hands and his mouth, it was overpowering. Moving with little control, your core pressed down on the buckle of his belt, his mouth greedily swallowing down the pathetic little gasp that stung your throat as your spine straightened, the aftershocks twitching your fingers and pausing your ability to breathe; he enjoyed the sight so much his fingers dug into your waist as he repeated the motion, your whimpering cry so sweet on his tongue. 

“You need your tape,” you mewled, resisting the urge to heighten what had begun to build.

“Uh-huh,” he replied, dazed, his face tense and eyes snapped shut.

“Tommy’s probably worried.”

“I don’t give a damn.”

Thick arms wrapped around your middle as he sat up and brought you with him, your fingers immediately threading through his hair as he picked up right where you’d left off. There was no stopping your girlish giggle that bounced off his lips, his own smile stretching lopsided on his face. The weight of the world vanished for a moment, the steady heaviness of dread, guilt, and misery had lifted and you were left practically floating after twenty years of being bogged down. 

“Tape,” you laughed as he moved down to your neck, his breath warming the chill that had set in, “I wanna go home.”

“Home, huh?” he teased against your throat, his beard scratching over you enough to have your hips pressing against him again.

“Mmm.”

“I like the way you say that.”

Home. 

When you looked at him, that’s exactly what it felt like. Honeyed hazel stared warmly back at you, his dirt-smudged face and swollen lips welcoming you back as you kissed him once again, your hands cradling his face as he reciprocated your gentle affection. He was the four walls that the shutters slammed against when the storm raged, the levees that held back the floods, and the warm heat of a fire in a blizzard. 

“Anchors are supposed to sink.”

His words had haunted you, following you around with nagging regret. You shouldn’t have left. It had been weeks of wondering if you’d ever seen him again with the knowledge that his final request had been to come back to him. It was such a simple thing to ask of you, and somehow you’d failed. Yet here you were now, perched in his lap in a dusty old library kissing him like it was something you’d done a hundred times before. He was comfortable. He was warm. He was gentle. He was home. It had only taken you months to realize it. 

“Promise me everything is gonna be okay,” you whimpered against his mouth, your eyes pinched shut as you toyed with his collar at the nape of his neck.

“I swear.” As much as you wanted to believe it, the promise was empty. 

“Means no dying.” 

“Mm. Suppose it does.”

“You can promise me you’re not gonna die?”

“I think…scientifically speakin’ and all, I damn well might—“

A playful slap to his chest had a short, gruff laugh cutting off his sarcastic response, “I’m serious.” 

“Goes for you, too,” he grunted as he gripped the backs of your thighs and stood, your arms and legs wrapping around him as he steadied, “You gonna promise me you ain’t dyin’?”

“Joel…”

“Honey,” he sighed, placing you down to sit on the checkout counter, the affectionate moniker enough to have your breath hitching, “Don’t make me have to lie to you.”

It was a promise no one could keep.

“Then promise me you’ll try,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his as your fingers found his hair once again.

“I swear,” he assured softly, sighing before pulling away and offering you a hand.

Once your feet hit the floor, he didn’t let go, his grip gentle but strong as he led you back to the archive tapes. Warm, calloused fingers threaded with yours, and you couldn’t help the way you gravitated into him, pressing your body against him as your free arm wrapped around to clutch his bicep. The canvas of his jacket was coarse against your cheek, but the immediate peace you felt as his warmth seeped into your skin had your eyes fluttering closed. 

“Okay…” he drawled as the archive room once again came into view, “Make this quick.”

Dusty old VHS tapes danced between fingers, murmurs of titles and frustration barely audible as you both searched for the only one that mattered. The ink had faded after decades abandoned, some close to being entirely illegible, his eyes squinting as he tried to make out which each aged strip of tape had etched on it. His grunts of frustration had you holding your breath to prevent the giggle bubbling in your throat, the battle finally lost when he rubbed the side of the box on his jacket like polishing it would help his case.

“Somethin’ funny?” he grunted, his slivered gaze shooting over to you.

“You need glasses,” you quipped, snatching the video from his hand and easily reading that this one held some former President’s inauguration speech, “This one isn’t it, either.”

“God damnit, there’s one more shelf.”

With only three to go, you found the coveted prize: the moon landing. Joel’s eyes lit up as he smiled, sighing in relief as he pulled it from your fingers, “Guess we’ll just pray it still works, then.”

The cold battered against you like a brick wall when you opened the doors to the library, Tommy having started a small fire for himself and the couple who sat cooking over the flickering flames. Days moved slower the closer to Jackson your convey got, sleep was more restless, tempers flared, a few brotherly physical altercations were broken up, and too many clickers for comfort were taken down as the gates drew nearer. 

“We’re gonna have to send clean-up crews out,” Tommy muttered, chest heaving, blood dripping off his fingers.

“Yeah,” Joel sighed, collapsing down against a tree, “Everyone else okay?”

“Looks like it, your girl is over that way and seems to be all in one piece.”

In one piece, but hanging by a thread. The road home had made you all weary, you spent most days asleep between Joel’s shoulder blades on the back of the horse, your nights restless and panicked no matter how tightly he swaddled you against him. He’d found you staring out the window one night, watching for any threats that may come by, and no amount of gentle or stern urging had convinced you to return to the makeshift bed on the floor. 

“Two more days,” he’d assured just moments before the infected that now lay dead at his feet had appeared, and as he looked at you staring off into the graying skies, he contemplated trying to convince the party to make it a straight shot back to Jackson.

“We should find somewhere to hole up for the night,” Tommy suggested, “I think that river runs somewhere around here, we can get some water to clean up with.”

“What if we just pressed on through,” Joel replied, his eyes still locked on you.

A heavy sigh clouded around both brothers, and Joel knew Tommy had been thinking the same exact thing. Snow crunched under the younger of the two’s boots as he approached the older couple emerging from their hiding spot and Joel took off in the opposite direction, cautiously slipping his hand onto your lower back. 

“Ready?” he asked tentatively, “We’re thinkin’ maybe we just go straight on through. No stoppin’. Might need you to take the reins for a minute–”

“Sure,” you confirmed, turning to catch his hazel gaze with a soft smile, “You’re a mess.”

“Huh?”

Your hands worked a ball of snow until the white powder had turned to frigid water, your fingers gently wiping the blood spattering on his face clean with focus and precision. It felt oddly good, his cheeks hot and hairline damp with sweat despite the temperature. He was still getting accustomed to these gentle touches, you both were, but as the days wore on they’d become more frequent and less tentative. It had been too long for it all to be natural–giving and receiving–but through shaking breaths and trembling hands, it was slowly becoming easier. Hearts no longer pounded anxiously and the fear of rejection had almost entirely subsided, but there was still so much missing and it was a void you could both feel.

“Here,” you cooed, pulling a small tin out of your pocket and dipping your middle finger in the thick balm that it housed, “This might help you a little.”

The way his eyebrows knit together as you dabbed the salve onto his wind-chapped lips had a smile lifting your cheeks and he breathed in this moment and the way it made your eyes sparkle in the haze of twilight.

“Whatchu got there, Joel?” Tommy called as he approached, “That’s some nice lip gloss.”

“Shut up,” Joel replied as Tommy laughed to himself, not turning his head away before you’d finished your task, “That ain’t half bad,” he commented as he tapped his lips together, testing the new sensation.

“You’re somethin’ else,” Tommy chuckled with an affectionate lilt, “We’re good to ride through if that’s still the plan. One of us might have to man their horse overnight long as you’re up for it, Millie.”

“Should be fine,” you answered quickly, eager to get back into the safe gates of Jackson.

When the sun came up and your shift atop Lee and Corbin’s horse ended, Joel nestled you into the saddle in front of him where you passed out within seconds swaddled in his warmth and subjected to the steady sway of the trot. It was too comfortable here with your head tucked into the curve of his shoulder, his other arm wrapped securely around your middle as the paths grew more and more familiar. Tommy had begun giving the tour of the patrol paths to the two newcomers as the sun began to set on the final day, and when the tall wooden barricades of home came into view, he finally slumped down in relief.

“We’re home,” Joel whispered into your hair, somehow you’d slept the entire day away and he knew it was the longest stretch you’d had in months, “Wake up.”

Jackson’s stables welcomed you, Joel’s hands guiding you down to the ground as you breathed in the familiar scent of home. Tommy had quickly taken to tending to Lee and Corbin, Joel stopping you from approaching with a stern look on his face.

“He can take care of them,” he said, the sun a ring of fire around his head and shoulders, “Let’s get you home.”

Arguing would be futile and a shower was far too tempting, as was a couch and a mattress and a pair of sweatpants. It was a short walk from the stables, you just had to make it through the center of town first. Joel had already prefaced that word of your supposed death was sure to have traveled to every ear by now.

“Ready?” he asked quietly, and you nodded.

“Well, I’ll be damned! That ain’t a corpse as far as I can tell.” You couldn’t even remember the man’s name as he came and pulled you into a hug. 

Before Joel could get you out through the doors, more people began filing in. It grew louder and louder, more hands and embraces than you could count, your heart hammering against your chest; Joel had been separated from you in the crowd as the words being said to you became indiscernible in the crowd and the air grew thick as space closed in. 

“That’s enough!” a woman’s voice called out, “Move out! Joel, get her.”

Maria Miller. You’d never been happier to hear her voice. She was standing atop of pile of boxes, towering over everyone else despite her small stature, her blond hair pulled back in a short ponytail as the townspeople obeyed her every word.

A warm, rough hand circled around your wrist and tugged, Joel’s familiar brown canvas jacket stretching across his broad shoulders as he led you out into the open streets. He didn’t stop, continuing on towards the residential area past his own white house and around the corner towards yours.

“Wait!” a small voice yelled frantically from behind you, “Wait!!!!”

No sound could have had you moving faster. You wrenched your wrist free of Joel’s grip, turning to intercept the 15-year-old girl barrelling into your arms. Her hair was soaking wet, just a thin hoodie and jeans covering a body you knew was still too thin, and it took only seconds for tears to soak the front of your jacket. She was shaking from the cold and the emotions raging in her, the way she was holding you almost keeping air from your lungs.

“They said you were dead,” she was muttering over and over, not even a hand cradling her head to your shoulder or your shushing sobs were enough to calm her down, “You were gone.”

“I’m so sorry,” you choked, and somehow saying those words made it all worse. 

This is what it felt like to let someone down, to break someone’s heart. It was painful and it was horrifying, it made your joints ache and your chest seize up; was this what love really was? As you held that crying girl in an iron grip, the weight of the consequences of your actions fell onto your shoulders. This was your doing. No one else’s. You were the one who left at the slightest hint of adversity, ran away like a petulant child, and avoided feelings you’d known were there for so long they’d boiled over and burned everyone in the surrounding area. 

“I’m sorry,” you cried out again, your cheeks soaked.

Arms long enough to contain you both pulled you in, Joel’s chin resting on your head as you leaned into him, and you stayed in that shelter until Ellie finally lifted her head. Swollen, reddened green eyes stared up at you, her expression telling you she still thought this might be a dream, and your palms cradled her face to say the words you couldn’t. 

“I missed you,” she croaked out, fighting the urge to let her head fall back down to the drenched patch of your coat, “You missed Christmas.”

“I know,” your voice quavered, “I missed you, too.”

“Let’s get you home,” Joel, who’d been silent and steady up until now, urged, dropping his arms as you slung yours around Ellie’s shoulders.

With every step, it felt like a small piece of the gaping hole in your chest filled in. Ellie had calmed enough to rattle off a few new puns she’d learned in your absence, Joel’s horrified groans at a few making smiles involuntary. When your house came into view, Ellie began to bob with excitement, confessing she’d visited every day and watered the plants and that her time on farming which she’d always dreaded had actually come in handy in keeping your green collection alive and well. 

It was just like you’d left it, not a thing out of place. It was warm, Ellie having kept the heat going for the sake of the inhabitants, tension from months in the mountain winter’s air beginning to melt away. While Ellie retold her adventures in horticulture, bringing one back from the brink of death while separating two different stems from one pot that seemed to be competing, you and Joel stood by and listened, just glad to hear the sound of her voice again. 

“Hey kiddo,” Joel piped up when she’d finished revealing she had watched a few of your movies, “Why don’t you wait for her to get cleaned up and then bring her on over to our place for dinner. There’s no food here and store’s closed.”

You audibly moaned when the warm water of the shower hit your skin. Time was limited as you rinsed weeks of dirt from your body and hair, needing to shampoo three times to get it all clean. Ellie had snuck in and warmed another pot of water, announcing it was done as she closed the door behind her. And you needed it. There were still razors in your drawer and clean towels in the cabinet, although they were a little dusty. Clean, comfortable clothes waited and after carefully combing the knots from your hair, you put the hood of your sweatshirt up and took off with Ellie down to the house on Rancher Street. 

Joel had already started dinner by the time you arrived, his beard trimmed and face weighed down by exhaustion. He hadn’t slept in what was close to three days and here he was prepping food Maria had definitely delivered for him, his fridge was just as empty as your own.

“So…” Ellie began as dinner was being finished, “We can do Christmas tomorrow.”

“It’s February,” Joel replied in a flat tone.

“But she missed Christmas! And we have gifts for her!”

“S’fine by me, but I ain’t decoratin’ again.”

“C’mon! Don’t be such a Scrooge!”

“Scrooge? How do you even know who that is?”

“I watched the movie with Cat and Dina.”

“Yeah, Joel,” you hummed over the mug of tea still hot in your hands, “Don’t be such a Scrooge.”

“Don’t take her side,” he cautioned softly as he sat back with a grunt that signaled defeat, “Fine, but no damn tree.”

“A small one?” Ellie pleaded, “Just enough to put gifts under!”

“What? Like a bush?” he asked sarcastically, that crooked grin lifting the left side of his mouth, “Yeah, go on and chop down a Christmas bush. You know where the hatchet is. Just make sure it ain’t one of Eugene’s.”

With a promise to return tomorrow for the planned festivities, you bid her goodbye with another tight hug, Joel opening up the door and leading you home like he had so many times before. Small talk about the relief of being home filled the short walk, how nice it was to shower and have a homecooked dinner, and before you knew it you’d both walked up the three steps to your front door.

“Alright then, I’m sure you, uh, want your space,” he sighed, “Just come on by tomorrow when you’re ready. I’m sure she’ll be up makin’ the whole damn house a mess.”

“Yeah,” you laughed, butterflies erupting in your stomach, “Okay.”

Your fingers drifted over the icy metal of the doorknob, it had been weeks since you’d slept alone, and suddenly the thought of doing so again made you uneasy. It was safe now, and warm, you didn’t need to share a cramped space where danger lurked in every breath, but you were afraid you’d become too used to it. You’d had a few nightmares along the way, but notably less, though at the time you’d attributed it to the lack of time asleep. Maybe it had been him, though.

“G’nite,” he decided for you, batting your hand away and opening your door himself.

“Night,” you responded as you contemplated the risk of grabbing the collar of his jacket and pulling him inside with you. 

Would he kiss you goodnight? Could you kiss him goodnight? He was so tired, you were surprised he was still standing, the purple bags under his eyes hadn’t been this dark since well before Jackson. You both just needed a solid night’s rest, this clearly wasn’t a conversation he wanted to be having right now. He likely wasn’t even capable of it. 

Closing the door and entering your home didn’t bring the reprieve you’d hoped it would. It felt too empty, too quiet; when had you begun to detest solitude? Someone had dropped off groceries, multiple people it looked like, your counter full of items that hadn’t been there before. A note was pinned to your fridge by a magnet Indy had gifted you, the simple, messy penmanship scribbled reading ‘I thought I told you to stop pulling this shit. And you couldn’t even say hi?! These were all sitting on the porch, figured I’d drop them off. You better be with Ellie. Sophia and I are a thing…by the way…and I do still live at the same house, in case you were wondering. Same address. Same place… See you tomorrow (don’t make me go to Joel’s.) -Indy’

While you were placing all the donated items into the pantry, a soft knock echoed through the house. You debated leaving it unanswered, it was probably just another bag of food or something of the sort, or maybe it was Indy, but either way, it was 10 PM and you should be asleep, whoever it was should understand.

“Millie?” 

You could have ripped the door off its hinges with how much force you tugged it open with, Joel standing on the other side with frost-blushed cheeks and a nervous expression. 

“I…uh…” he stammered, averting his eyes to the icicles hanging from your awning’s roof, crossing his arms over his chest as his tongue knotted.

Whatever he had to say didn’t matter. Flinging your arms around his neck you pulled his lips to yours, tangling your fingers into his silky gray hair as he kicked the door shut and locked it behind him. His fingers dug into the skin of your waist when your tongue brushed against his, a groan of relief vibrating from his throat into yours. With no prying eyes to find you, weeks of pent-up energy flooded out. You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d felt this throbbing at your core. Sex had been nothing but a tool, fodder for barters, or something taken by force, not something you’d ever wanted or craved, but when you pushed his jacket from his shoulders as your back thudded against the wall you couldn’t help but feel as frightened by it as you were thrilled.

The nerves didn’t stop you, however, your lips continuing in their dance and noses pressed to cheeks. His hands stayed on your hips, and you knew he was feeling all the same things you were. 

“Upstairs,” you huffed out against him, his eyes wide as he looked for signs of hesitation on your face. It took all your effort to maintain a steady stare under the weight of his.

“Lead the way,” he whispered in a husky tone, goosebumps rising on your skin and leaving a fire in their wake. 

The staircase stretched for miles as you led him by the hand to your bedroom, a fresh set of sheets and blankets put on by Ellie or Indy at some point in the hours since you’d gotten back. One less thing to worry about, but the list was still a mile long.

“Did they bring my bag back?” you asked as the door clicked closed, the empty hook jogging your memory.

“Uh…” he murmured, that hadn’t been what he was expecting, “Yeah. I think so.”

“Okay. There’s just..stuff in there that I need.”

“Uh-huh.”

You were stalling now, the butterflies in your stomach kicking up enough speed to churn, your fingers nervously wringing on your stomach. It didn’t help he was watching so intently, either, looking for the first sign of discomfort to talk him out of what he wanted just as much as you did. This was just one step you didn’t want to take first, you just didn’t know how to tell him. But it was act now or watch him leave, again.

“Can you…” you sputtered, closing your eyes and tipping your chin.

“Can I what?” he asked, the mischievous lilt to his voice was reassuring, his boots slowly creaking against your floor as he closed the distance between you.

Heat burned your cheeks so hot you knew they had to be glowing even in the dim light of the moon, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip that still tasted like him. His knuckle tilted your face up, your eyes shooting open to find him towering over you with his extra eight inches, and you did all you could with the expression on your face to beg him to continue. You tried to stay relaxed, mouth hanging open slightly, gaze fixed in what you hoped was curious and thankful. If you held his head, he couldn’t deny anything, so you threaded your fingers in his hair again, scratching affectionately before giving him a small nod. Can he … this?

A crooked smirk decorated his face before he kissed you, this time it was your turn to hum appreciatively into his mouth, and he swallowed it down as he pushed you against the door just as he had on the wall downstairs. He was slower this time, giving you time to relax or stop him if you wanted to, but you found yourself only easing into his arms that were wound around your waist, and in that comfort you braved undoing the lowest button of his flannel, pausing and giving him time to put a halt on everything. He didn’t.

There was no stopping the way you shook as you slid his shirt over his shoulders, his grip around you releasing until the fabric sat in a heap on your floor. You felt him tense, reassuring you that you weren’t the only one mortified at the thought of someone seeing what was under your hoodie and pants, but he had no reason to shy away. Dark hair covered his toned chest and stomach, a gnarled scar puckering the skin just right of his navel. 

“What happened?” you asked, concerned despite whatever it was being fully healed. You knew that this one had almost claimed him.

“Rebar,” he answered, “Fell a few stories off a balcony. Went all the way through.”

“When?”

“Bringin’ Ellie to the Fireflies.”

So, recently, no more than a year and a half ago give or take. It wasn’t hard to find the matching roughened patch on his back, and when you kissed him again it was hard enough to convey the turmoil raging in your thoughts. There’d been a chance he could have died before ever finding you. And how much different your life would be, if you still had it. Your sweatshirt was too thick, it created too much distance between your skin and his, so when you stopped to take a breath you pulled away just enough to pull it off over your head, your hair in its loose bun falling down around your shoulders. It was still warm even in just the thin, worn tank top you had underneath, and you flattened your palms on his chest to push him back towards the bed, your nails grazing through the soft hair until he was sitting down in front of you, your body notched between his knees. 

With a surge of bravery thanks to the way he was gratuitously drinking the sight of you in, you shucked your pants off as well, climbing into his denim-clad lap in just panties and the top. He needed no other invitations, the tips of his fingertips sinking into the plush of your ass as he gripped you tightly, his kiss growing sloppy as his focus was pulled to new areas and sensations. The ache between your legs was growing unbearable, and you could feel his own similar issue stiffly beneath you that was doing you no favors in containing the pathetic little mewls escaping into the dark. Your throat was currently being explored, the scratching of his beard heightening every brush of his lips and tongue, making it all the more impossible to keep yourself quiet. 

“Can I take this off?” he panted, toying with the hem of your shirt, and when you nodded he did exactly that, pushing the fabric up to your neck as he ran his hands all the way up your body before finishing the job.

Before he even drifted his gaze to what he’d just uncovered, he grabbed you by the hips and laid you down, head on your pillow, his eyes drinking you in splayed beneath him. It was nervewracking, he was taking his time, a calloused thumb circling your pebbled nipple slowly. It felt so good your whole body jerked as it searched for more, and when his lips replaced his thumb that moved to give your untouched side the same attention, your spine arched off the bed as you cried out, holding his head against you as he suckled and swirled his tongue over your neglected skin. He seemed to be enjoying it as much as you were, grunting softly as he lavished you, exploring every inch of your breasts with his lips, grazing his teeth and sucking with just the right amount of pressure to have you dizzy. 

“Oh, shit…” he whimpered, dropping his forehead to your chest as he sighed, hot hair huffing out against you as you realized he’d just come from nothing but pleasing you.

You could finish yourself off quickly at just the thought of that, your fingers would make quick work of the spell he’d put you under, but after a moment to regain his breath he was back at your lips kissing you softly, the gentleness of it a cruel tease in your current state.

“Just, gimme a few minutes,” he breathed, yours pecking at his moving lips desperately, “Am I free to do as I please?”

The gravelly way he spoke and the things he said sent another burst of pressure to your core, and you wanted to scream he could do anything if it would stop the ache, but you held your frustration at bay and nodded. His mouth tasting its way down your torso distracted you from his hands pulling your panties down and throwing your knees over his shoulders, your bare cunt centimeters from his face when you realized your current position. One hand pinned you to the bed by the stomach as the other kept one leg firmly down, his tongue slipping through your soaked slit and tasting the fruits of his labor, a wanton cry ripping free from your chest. 

“You know, I was never a big fan of sweets,” he commented as you wriggled in his hold seeking more, “But god damn.”

Tears stung at your eyes when he pushed up into your waiting hole, his thumb rubbing on your clit as he slid in and out, circling over your walls to collect all you had to offer. A thin sheen of sweat had you practically iridescent in the moonlight, hair sticking to your forehead and cheeks as you finally succumbed to the burning pressure in your belly. It was a perfect eruption of bliss and relief, his name falling from your tongue like a prayer. He seemed to enjoy that, his mouth working harder over your swollen, sensitive clit, fingers slipping into your channel and working to scissor you open while curling to press against a spot deep inside no one had reached before.

He gave you no time to come down, your body immediately responding and building up once again, needing more than just the two thick digits currently pumping in and out. The way you writhed beneath him and scratched across his back told him all he needed to know, the head of his cock pressing against your opening. You gave him consent with another sloppy kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue while knotting your fingers into his hair, the stretch as he pushed in giving you pause and making him freeze.

“You okay?” he asked, clearly trying to keep control.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, trying to relax the wince set on your face and the tension in your thighs.

“I’ll go slow.”

Gently, he pushed in a little more and waited, pulling out just enough to slip back in with more of his impressive girth and length. With every testing pulse, you eased more, your grunts of discomfort evolving to heavy breaths of bliss. You’d adjusted enough to take the second half of him in one thrust, his hips meeting yours as you sheathed him entirely, and you relished in the closeness this brought. His chest was pressed to yours, lips locked together, hands in hair, and you’d never felt better or safer. 

“You feel so damn good,” he sighed, pulling out and slipping back into your now-drenched hole, you could feel the thick thatch of curls at his base growing damp from what was leaking free.

“Yeah,” you agreed, trying to find simple words for you knotted tongue, “You too.”

Every roll of his hips grew sloppier, his desire to be swaddled by you battling his need for friction as he climbed into the clouds, you wanted him to meet you there. You were so close to release, but you wanted to topple over the edge together with him, so you pathetically whimpered 'please' against his panting lips, flicking your hips and clenching your cunt until he tugged on your hair enough to hurt, moaning quietly into your ear. At the first sensation of him spurting hot and thick inside of you, you locked your ankles at the small of his back, letting this wave of euphoria slowly wash over you like the tide. It was gentle and warm, leaving every muscle lax and pliable as you cradled his head where he’d collapsed down onto you. It lingered, the buzzing sensation, his damp hair still soft as you combed through it.

“I’m,” he started, he’s half asleep already, “I got…snipped–”

“Ssshhh,” you cooed, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head while laughing to yourself. Of course he would be thinking about that even in his current state, “Just go to sleep.”

It didn’t take long for him to obey, his breathing slowing and deepening beneath your gentle touch. You fought sleep for as long as you could, enjoying the way he was relaxed and knowing it was you who had given that to him. He needed you, or at least that’s what it felt like here as you held him in your arms while he slept. 

You wanted him to need you, to be his solace though you’d been nothing but his nightmare for so long already. The smell of his shampoo was still evident in his hair when you buried your face in the gray strands, two tears slipping free from your eyes and resting like dewdrops on the grass. 

Love could also be this. But was that worth everything else?

Chapter 16

[finelinevogue]

Can you write something about when Harry and Y/N broke up but fans speculate that they got back together and they did get back together. They broke over something stupid, please. You don’t have to do this exactly it can be something like that.

let’s see how this turns out! hope it’s what you wished for?!

The last few months had been rough.

What had started as rumours of a breakup between everyones favourite couple, you and Harry, had turned into an actual breakup.

It had started by Harry spending more time with Olivia, due to press for Don’t Worry Darling. They were always hanging out with each other, even when there was no publicity stunt telling them to. You found it appropriate at first, wanting the movie to gain some form of reputation, but after a while you believed it turned South. It was becoming a definite friendship and not just because they had to. It was the way that Harry would bring Olivia over for dinner without checking with you first, or taking the dog for a walk with her not you, or even staying longer out on stunts than they needed to just because they wanted to.

So you challenged Harry on it. Hell, even the tabloids were challenging you both - claiming Harry had split from you for Olivia. You made him question whether he thought his actions were irresponsible and appropriate or not, to which he thought there was nothing wrong and thought you were being irrational. You didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day, only to find him later on the phone speaking to Olivia about how crazy you’d been acting about it all. So you showed him crazy and walked out.

Until today.

For over a half a year your sister had her wedding planned and Harry was supposed to be your guest. You were nervous about turning up without him, because your family were very judgy. Your sister couldnt help being the smarter and the prettier one, but she also didn’t have to parade it around so everyone knew of it. Your mum and dad thought you a disappointment for the longest time, but once you’d gotten a job and had moved out they were a bit more loving over you. Still didn’t hide the fact they desperately hoped for you to have a relationship. It wasn’t that you were bringing Harry along to prove that someone loved you, but more to prove that they would never fully be satisfied whether you had a boyfriend or not. There would always be a podium stand slightly lower for you to stand on.

However, they didn’t know about the breakup.

“Y/N, nice to see you. Where’s Harry?” Another guest asked you, relatives of your mum. It was the same question over and over again, no one really caring about how you are but instead whether you’re in a positive relationship.

“Oh um I think he’s just running a bit late.” Was your chosen answer to respond to said question. It was repetitive, but it kept people off your back.

The wedding was completely beautiful. It was in a beautiful church and was decorated to perfection. The theme was white and royal blue, something your sister had always dreamed of. Children played amongst the pews and family relatives mumbled to each other about gossip. There was still a heavy sadness to the event. Maybe it was because your sister hadn’t asked you to be a bridesmaid - instead, choosing her best friends instead - or maybe it was because you missed Harry so much.

He’d fucked up. He really had, but it didn’t take away that burning passion for him that spread like a wildfire in your belly. You missed him. You still loved him. Worst of all, you had to pretend everything was all alright in front of your family when actually you were breaking apart inside.

Harry hadn’t messaged saying that he was or wasn’t coming, but after everything that had happened you were confident he was going to be a no show, and you would be the embarrassment of the family once again. Your relationship had been very private and exclusive, but Harry’s fans were so investigative you wouldn’t be surprised if they knew that you’d broken up and were aware that you were at a wedding today without him. Neither of you had made a public statement about your breakup, but neither of your wanted to damage each other even more. Fans suspected though and rumours travel fast.

“Y/N how are you doing? How’s Harry?” Another aunt came and asked you, this time with your mother in tow.

“Oh he’s great, yes.” You smiled forcefully, not actually having a clue how your ex-boyfriend was doing. You didn’t keep up with his social media because you were afraid of what you might find.

“Where is he? Is he here?” Your aunt asked.

“He’s late, apparently.” Your mother answered for you, sneeringly. “You’ll be made a fool of if he’s a no show Y/N.”

“I know.”

“I hope everything goes well for you both.” Your aunt kindly said, before waiting for your mum to say something nice too. That was a mistake though.

“Well it’s unlikely she’ll find someone again!” Your mother laughed and pulled your aunt away from you. You furrowed your eyebrows and let your heart sink low.

What were you thinking, letting Harry go like that? Your mum was right, you were never going to find anyone else again. You were so lucky with Harry. He was so kind and so patient with you, but obviously he’d run out of steam towards the end. It doesn’t surprise you. You’ve always been told you’re a mighty handful and you need a lot of work put into looking after you, so you understand why you were probably too much for Harry. The showbiz life had never really been something you’d completely submerged yourself into, whereas you guess for Olivia it was rooted in her from birth. She understood Harry’s world the same way he did hers. They would match perfectly for each other, if that’s what they wanted.

You watched the room continue as usual, but you couldn’t keep yourself here. There was too much sadness welling deep within you that you wanted to just run and then keep running. So you did, only to get as far as the bench in the front courtyard. The outside felt calmer and more freeing than inside, you sat and absorbed it for a while, not realising that you were crying until your pretty multicoloured dress had grown darker with a pool of your tears.

“Shit.” You tried rubbing the tears out, but only made you cry a little harder. You thought about your makeup running and tried to compose yourself, fanning your face to calm it down from the heat now.

“And here I was thinking weddings were supposed to be happy.”

You stopped fanning your face to look at him. You couldn’t believe he was standing there, dressed in a beautiful white suit and salmon pink shirt underneath to compliment the colours of your dress - the outfit that you’d helped him pick out over a year ago. He’d remembered. He trusted that you’d still be wearing this dress. He was a sight alright. A vision of beauty and love.

“Harry?” You questioned, wiping your under eyes to clear away any running mascara, not quite believing he was standing there.

“So what was it? Bad music playing? No vodka? Or maybe there’s nowhere for you to escape to go read the book I know you have stuffed away in your clutch bag.” He stood at a distance from you, hands in his trouser pockets, to make sure you were comfortable.

“I brought vodka instead of the book.” You chuckled, reaching into your clutch to prove it to him.

“Lucky for you, i’ve come to save the day.” Harry reached to the inside of his blazer pocket and pulled out a Kindle. You’d always been debating whether or not to buy one, because the feeling of having a book to turn its’ physical pages is a feeling second to none. “Take it, it’s yours.”

Harry handed it out to you and you stood up to reach for it hesitantly. Harry assured you that it was okay and that you’d been reading too many books if you thought it was a trap of some sort.

“Thank you, Harry.” You spoke sincerely. You stroked your thumb over the cover and turned the case lid over to start up the screen. The screen lit up and it was set to a picture of your favourite quote, annotated just as you would have in your own book. You chuckled and let a few tears drop from the kindness of all of this.

“And then…” Harry unlocked the Kindle with your birthday as the password, before clicking on the library so you could discover what was waiting for you on your virtual shelves. Harry had downloaded all your most favourite books, whilst also downloading the ones he knew had been on your to-be-read list. He’d even added a few of his favourite books too, just because you liked reading his recommendations.

You smiled, but felt so lost.

“W-why are you here, H?” You asked, closing the lid and bravely looking up into his enchanting eyes. You had to control yourself not to comment on how wondrous they looked.

“To save the day.” He chuckled in repeat, until he knew you weren’t taking that for an answer. “Because I fucked up. Big league time.”

“Yeah.” You whispered, looking down at your shoes to see that they weren’t that far apart at all. He was so close to you, yet he wasn’t yours to catch.

“And i’ll never forgive myself for letting you walk out of that door. The promotion shit with Olivia? Done. I’ve finished. I explained that the movie isn’t as important to me as you. You,” Harry paused to breathe out, and took the risk of guiding your jaw up to meet your gaze with his soft hand, “you are real Y/N. You’re so important and key to my life and it bloody terrified me, still does actually, to think that you make me feel this way. I want everything with you. Marriage, kids, a home. A life. I was so worried I would screw it all up, though, to the point where I did screw it all up. I lost you and so I lost me. It’s selfish of me to ask whether any part of your heart still wants me, but—”

“Yes.” You quickly interjected before he could say something he’d later regret. “There is, yes.”

“R-really?” He stumbled over his response, not expecting you to react so soon but his words had got to you. His feelings were vulnerable and raw and it reminded you of how much you love him and feel safe with him.

“Why? Would you like me to say different.” You teased.

“No,” Harry rushed, stepping closer towards you, “God now. Stay, please. Forever, if you’ll have me?”

“I can deal with forever.” You leaned up to where his lips were, craving the taste of them against yours so badly. “Can I?” You looked between his lips and his eyes, watching his eyes coo in admiration of you. His arms snaked around your neck and cupped the back of your head, resting his ringed fingers against your skin delicately.

“You don’t have to ask, angel.” And with that you didn’t hesitate to reclaim your clips on his. He tasted as sweet and as soft as you could remember. The hint of mint sweets he kept in his car could be tasted all over his mouth, and he could no doubt taste the vodka on yours. He took no time in rushing to have his tongue exploring your mouth once mouth, biting on your lip when he got the chance to. He wanted you to remember this moment and how much love he has for you, and always will. Just as you do for him.

Hesitantly pulling away you smiled at him cheekily, feeling so much lighter and happier to have him here. With you in his arms so expertly.

“What?” He asked, leaving a quick kiss to your nose, inhaling his scent as he did.

“Just can’t believe you’re here.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb, and he leaned into your touch so comfortably. He had missed you so damn much, and it showed.

“Let you down once before and I wasn’t going to do it again.”

“So you’d have shown up even if I hadn’t?”

“Not happily, but yes.” He laughed thinking about it.

“Why?” You laughed with him.

“I’ve got to make my impression on your family somehow. Need to remind some of them how amazing and beautiful their special Y/N L/N is.”

“Some are going to need a lot more persuading than others.” You sighed, side-frowning over your words.

“No offence, but anyone who doesn’t treat you as a fucking diamond doesn’t deserve you and should watch out for kick up their backside from me.” You laughed over his empty threat and buried your head against his chest, listening to the heartbeat and rumble of laughter that came from within. This moment alone felt like home. Safe and warm.

“I love you, H.”

“Bloody love you too.”

Harry ended up returning to the wedding with you, much to your mothers surprise, and you both enjoyed the celebrations together. You shut yourselves out from everybody and just danced, talked and drank the night away.

You were so in love.

Later, photos got leaked of the wedding and it showed you and Harry dancing away in one of the backgrounds of the photos. It was supposed to be a shot of just the bride and groom, but you two have managed to get caught in it. You looked so caught up in each other that you still weren’t even aware the photo had been taken. You and Harry had determinedly avoided the camera all night, exactly for this reason, but a part of you was kind of happy that this one photo got leaked, because it showed the world that Harry was yours and you were his. It showed that you were together, or back-together as addressed by some FBI fans, and that you were stronger for it.

[soothinglee]

Home.

𝗔𝗹𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝘁𝘆

𝗗𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺 𝗦𝗺𝗽 𝘅 𝘁𝗲𝗲𝗻!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗮 𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽! 𝗧𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗰!

Warnings: None

!Im not sure if 100% of this is correct, If you want to shift do not go by the directions that I write in the chapter, seek professional websites or amino to get information on how to shift!

~1~

Also, shameless self plug on the twitch notifies! My twitch is the bottom user >_< but! You do not have to follow me! You can simply read!

Enjoy!

Once you got home all you wanted to do was sleep. Sleep your life away but thats not going to slove any problems. You throw the beige colored backpack across the room and slam into your chair. The parents weren't home today seeing as they were on a business trip for the next week so your were alone.

Great.

Shrugging off your coat you twist the cap to your water bottle off and take a big gulp as you sign onto your desktop computer and log onto twitch.

A bar pops up.

FOLLOWED CHANNELS:

➢TubboLive

➢RanbooLive

➢Tommyinnit

➢Jagger_Swag

➢Earthtopoc

You grin and immediately join Tubbos stream. As the screen loads a ad for Coke pops up giving you time to be distracted and to pull out your journal. Reaching across the table you fish for a pen and pop the cap. Tubbos voice fills the air.

"Hi chat! How are you guys doing today!" He grins, waving both hands like a maniac but the sound of happiness in his voice is prominent. Your quick to drop everything to put 'Amazing!'.

He giggles and opens up the DreamSmp where he stands in Snowchester by the mansion. You continue doing what you were doing.

A couple of weeks ago you saw some people talking about 'shifting' on Tik Tok. It seemed instersting to say the least. You saw that it was like dreaming only it felt real. So, you decide to give it a try. Thats why at this moment you had a notebook and a pen writing your 'script'.

"At this point," you mumble "I'll take anything to get away from here."

The first thing you do is write your name and features. All things you remember the video said to do.

Name: Y/N Y/L

Age: (Y/A)

Birthday: (Y/BD)

Height:...-

oh-.. when was the last time you got measured?

'It doesn't feel like I've grown anymore since the last check-up' you think 'I'll just put I'm (Y/H)'

Tubbos laugher is soft in the background as you focus on filling out everything else. Not bothering to make it look fancy, you finish up the affirmations section and finish up. All you had to do was prepare to shift to the DreamSmp.

It was like a comfort place. Every-time you felt stressed you'd watch your streamers play as a way to feel relaxed.

"Haven't felt that in-ages" You retort ripping out the few pages and placing it under your pillow. You'd be trying the pillow method. As easy as it seems. Placing it under your pillow, visualize your DR, say affrimations and bam-your shifting to your DR. The problem is- you have to believe. Which isn't easy because you have a hard time believing.

"Guess I just gotta try harder" You stand up to stretch, limbs on fire after sitting for 4..- 4 hours?! You huff out a grunt while restlessly walking to your bathroom door. The knob cold in your hand. It wouldn't hurt to shower before going. Don't wanna meet them while smelling like trash and sweat.

20 minutes later you walk out smelling like a flower garden. Breath smelling like mint after debating with yourself if brushing your teeth would increase the chances of shifting. You didn't know but did it anyway.

Tubbos stream now off but the screen emitted Green, Black and Red colors. He must have raided Ranboo and your computer automatically decided to join the raid.

You laugh lightly "Nice." and opt for a large gray shirt with the words 'Orlando Florida' In fancy font and basketball shorts thats also a little too big.

You don't brother watching Ranboos streaming, closing out of it and turn the computer off.

'I feel like I just committed a crime' you sigh and close the bedroom door not bothering to make sure if the front door is locked.

It is. Plus if it wasn't its not like anybody would come in and rob you. You practically live in the safest neighborhood of (Y/S).

Sliding into bed, you reach over and feel for the lamps on/off button. After a minute of poking and prodding you find it and push down with a click. The only light source in the room now was the window which was half closed emitting car headlights and the Green,Yellow,Red light coming from the Traffic lights.

You lay on your back and breathe. The video said something about counting? 0-100 you recall. Reaching a hand behind you, you make sure that the script is under your pillow. Reaching back around you lay both arms and legs away from your body and count.

1..

2..

3..

4..

then you start the affirmations after you count to 50.

'Your halfway there Y/N...' A voice floats around in your head but you pay no mind. Why does it sound so Familiar? You continue counting.

51..

52..

53..

'You got this!' Another voice cheers and a wave of goosebumps fill your arms as you shiver. Although..no windows nor a breeze goes through your room.

"I will shift!" You cry and your body begins feel light weight. All of a sudden-

'Welcome Y/N,' A figure calls from the dark

'Welcome home'

TAGLIST!:

@kusuinko

@teenage0jealousy

[op-sheepy]

ok so I'm particularly interested in

Bellamy Law

Law and Bible stuff

Law is a substitute kindergarten teacher

shichibukai applications

reverse hanahaki disease (?? do u spit out flowers when your nemesis walks by?)

if you feel like elaborating on any of these!

This is gonna get long and I actually contemplated posting them separately but would that have been more work? Yeah, that felt like more work so for anyone interested, check under the cut. :D

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Bellamy Law

Hm… This would be an attempt to explore the parallels and contrasts between Bellamy and Law. I've always found it fascinating that the former was a foil to the latter.

They both come from well-off  towns in the North Blue.

Bellamy left because of boredom. Law had no choice because Flevance.

Both ended up seeking Doflamingo  because of  his notoriety as a pirate. Both admired him initially

Doffy favored one over the other though. Bellamy always sought his approval but was never really part of the inner circle Doflamingo cared about.

Law got the dubious privilege of being part of the family despite being absent for so long. Even offered one of the highest seats by Doffy's side for seemingly nothing.

Law had no trouble turning his back on Doffy once he realized the man's nature. Bellamy tried to stick to his principles until the end despite admitting that he new he was wrong.

Bellamy can (and did) quit piracy after his ordeal with Doflamingo. Having the option to live peacefully, perhaps a return to his previous life (the one he considered boring). Law can't do that quite as easily what with his Devil fruit and his reputation.

I thought it would be interesting trying to explore what Bellamy was thinking. Did he hear the Donquixote Pirates talk about their missing 'family'? Did he get to see Doffy be amused at Law's rise as a Supernova while he kept being reminded of his own status? Did Law save Bellamy partially because he also saw what he could have been had Corazon not saved him?

On principle, Bellamy should have hated Trafalgar Law. Does. Bastard even saved him without him wanting it. But there was something about the shadows haunting those eyes and Bellamy started to wonder.

He had heard the family talk about Law before. The child personally taught by Doflamingo, chosen to be his right hand. Never was he compared to the man because Law was just obviously better. Smarter. Stronger. Bellamy was ever just an uncouth thug.

He was allowed to 'borrow' Doflamingo's symbol while Law had an empty seat waiting for his return–a seat Bellamy had wanted enough to risk everything for.

Maybe he had resented, Trafalgar Law for carelessly rejecting the things he had that Bellamy had always desired. In the end too, Trafalgar Law did prove to be better. He'd done as a child what Bellamy had trouble doing even as he was now.

But having been given the chance to observe the other man as they all recovered, he wondered, perhaps for the first time, whether despite Law being better than Bellamy, Bellamy had had it better–barring the poor life choices.

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Law and Bible stuff

This is just me wanting to know how many biblical parallels and themes I can draw from Law, the Donquixote brothers, the characters associated with them, and his backstory. Honestly not sure whether this would become a fic and in what style or I'm gonna give up and just make it a post.

Not gonna elaborate on them much but here are the ideas in more bullet points (yay):

Law gets familiar with all four horsemen of the apocalypse: conquest, war, famine, and death. He even survives them.

Law is like the son in the parable of the prodigal son to the Donquixote pirates. Except the themes are inverted.

Doflamingo and Rocinante -> Cain and Abel

Ope Ope no Mi -> Granting eternal life by sacrificing one's own life

Gods descending or living among humans. Also, Homing and his family being prosecuted for other people's sins.

That scene where they were hanged by their arms outstretched looks like a crucifixion. Also, Rocinante was on the right while Doflamingo was on the left. Similar to how the penitent thief was on the right and the unrepentant one to the left.

Flevance being considered a paradise with walls/fences/gates and somewhere Law cannot return to.

In the panel where the Donquixote pirates are seated at the table, there were thirteen of them with Doffy at the center. Same as The Last Supper

There are a lot more of these (David and Goliath, Solomon, Jonah, Job, etc.) but I kinda lost the notes and some are more visual so I can't really explain it too well. This would is a drabble series to emphasize or highlight the parallels so no proper snippet for this one.

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Law is a substitute kindergarten teacher

Originally an idea to get around most of the Heart Pirates being nameless but evolved to include other characters as kids. Chopper is a kindergarten teacher and he convinces Law to take over his class for a week because somehow Law has the qualifications to and free time. Naturally, he wasn't able to say no.

Unfortunately, despite not being terrible at handling children, Chopper's class is filled with menaces. Also, despite not being terrible, Law can still be awkward so...

"Mr. Trofao–fargar—"

"Trafalgar."

The kid—which one was this one again? Shit, he should really get them name plates or something—scrunched up his face and tried harder, "Tar-pal—"

"Law. Just call me Law."

"Mr. Low"—eh, close enough—"can I go to the bathroom?" Wide imploring eyes stared up at him.

"Sure, go ahead." Law gestured towards the exit of the classroom with his head.

The kid just stared expectantly at him and he tried to suppress the need to narrow his eyes.

"Is there… anything else?"

"Mr. Chopper always comes with me to hold my hand."

Really?

"Mr. Chopper isn't here. You should practice doing it on your own now." He said after a deep inhale.

"But the monsters might get me…"

"No, they won't."

"You don't know that."

"I do." Before the kid could open his mouth again to argue, he added, "Besides, children taste terrible so you're safe."

The kid looked stricken and took a step back from him. Uh oh. Glistening eyes, wobbling lower lip… "Alright! I'll go with you." The kid did not look reassured. In fact he looked like going alone with Law was the last thing he wanted to do. Guess, he kinda implied that he ate children didn't he? Oops.

Well, the kid needs to go and he's not going to be cleaning up after him if he wets himself.

Law glanced at the rest of the children. It was Arts and Craft time and they seemed preoccupied enough. Still, Law doubted Chopper ever left these kids alone–already he could see some of them glancing up at him, waiting for him to leave no doubt to cause trouble. That Monkey kid in particular looked extremely suspicious.

He stood up from his crouch and clapped twice to get everyone's attention.

"Alright. Fall in line. Single file."

There was some grumbling and questioning directed at him. "What's going on?"

Law shrugged. "You're all going to the bathroom."

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Shichibukai Application Forms

Crackfic where the World Government and relevant parties review various Shichbukai Applications. Most submitted by the pirates applying themselves, some produced by their own staff. They discuss and debate. As well as judge pirate resumes.

She scanned the document. Terrible format, really. If you fail to impress within the first page, you've failed entirely. There just wasn't anyone promising enough in this batch of applications or any of the other ones before. The last one had been that clown. "Apprentice to the Pirate King," was a pretty hefty credential.

"Oh, how about this one? Three years experience pillaging, and they even listed all the towns they looted." One of the newly transferred administrative staff said.

"None of these are worth considering at all. You know, when Mihawk was asked to submit his application, he hadn't bothered with all of this. He just sent us a card with his name on it and the title "World's Strongest Swordsman," underneath."

The staff perked up. "Oh, there was an application like that." There was scramble and some shuffling before a plain white card was produced. "Here."

"'From Trafalgar Law'. What does this even mean?"

"Well, it did come with a big box..."

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Reverse Hanahaki Disease

(?? do u spit out flowers when your nemesis walks by?)

Haha. At first it was going to be that way (because it is hilarious) but the inflicted would probably choke to death too soon. Or if both enemies had it, they'd end up just coughing flowers at each other until they stopped being enemies.

The version I ended up going with was that this variant of Hanahaki, instead of afflicting those with unrequited love, affected those in denial instead. The reverse part comes from the original idea that this would usually happen if you somehow fell in love with your nemesis (someone you originally hated). So it's not the thought that the other person can't love you, it's that you can't accept that you love that other person. You get cured by confessing to the person sincerely.

This is actually another KidLaw (surprise!). And the flower coughed up directly represents the person they're in love with (I went with Oda's flower representation for them because I found it funny for plot)

So the idea is that, you get sick but you don't automatically know (maybe) who it is because that's part of being in denial. Kid and Law have many enemies after all. In this story they both get it though not exactly at the same time and not known to the other.

He survived Amber Lead Syndrome only to be killed off by a stupid flower disease that apparently knows more about his own feelings than he does.

He glared at the petals. Tulips. Red.

An image of a cocky grin and a shock of red hair flashed through his mind and—nope. That's not right.

He coughed harder, tears stinging his eyes with the effort. More flowers. Now he has enough for a bouquet.

Alright, he was a doctor. He could do this. Differential time.

First, which variant does he have. He doesn't particularly feel unloved or hopeless. There wasn't anyone he wanted in particular to love him. Ok, nothing. It was maybe safe to say he had that other variant.

Which was stupid because Law had many enemies and he hated all of them.

And cue the racking coughs. More red. He was very familiar with that particular shade.

New theory. This was a new variant that somehow makes you sick when you think of the person you hated the most.

Yes, that had to be it. He thought as he all but collapsed on the floor from the sudden paroxysm.

I knew this was gonna get long. :) Oh well...

Thank you for playing. :D

[court-of-abs]

Update on “Maybe Tomorrow” [Final Chapter; Chapter 17]

Hello, hello my ducklings. 

It’s been nearly two years since I’ve last been on Tumblr and well over that time since I’ve written anything for my Elorcan fanfic “Maybe Tomorrow.” I actually just finished up reading a Court of Silver Flames and I remembered this page existed. 

As you all might’ve guessed, I never did finish writing that last chapter, or the epilogue, even. And while I no longer intend to finish writing that last chapter now, I decided it would be fun to post what I had written so far as well as a bulleted list for the ideas I had for the epilogue. Please keep in mind two things: this was written over two years ago and I’m not letting myself attempt to edit it (although I did read through it quickly) and there is a potential trigger warning: this chapter covers themes of mental health, therapy, and topics related to it. I’ll also be adding this warning to the previous chapter, as I feel in hindsight I most definitely should’ve included it.

This community and these books were my everything in 2017-2018. I was going through a pretty tough time then, and I am so so happy to say I’m doing much better now despite everything going on in the world. I still keep up with each series to this day (I even cried the BIG tears when I finished Kingdom of Ash) and it will ALWAYS hold a special place in my heart. 

Enjoy!! Let me know what you guys think <3 I miss and love you all, and I hope you’re doing well.

~

Naitivity. To herself, to her problems, to the pain flowing through her veins every step she took. That was why Saturday night had affected her so much.

In the almost nine years since their death, Elide had never acknowledged what had happened. She’d never grieved, barely faltered- she got away with it by not thinking about it, not talking about it. By not accepting the cards the fate had handed her, by turning a blind eye, it became so much easier to pretend it didn’t happen. It became so much easier to pretend she hadn’t changed.

Elide knew now that she wasn’t being strong for it. She was just being naive.

Elide wrapped her arms around herself and leaned forward to rest her head on the steering wheel of her car. She breathed, deeply, taking in the muffled sounds of students walking towards the front of the school- their voices, their laughter.

She smiled, then, thinking about what today was.

Then she frowned, thinking about what today was. The elections and then…

Another breath. In and out, just like the therapist had told her. Elide reached for her school books and swung open the door of her car, stepping out into the heat. She just needed to focus on today, just today.

And then, with the support of her friends, those that cared about her, she’d focus on the next. And the next, and the next…

Elide made it all of three steps away from her car when she ran into Aelin, Lysandra, and Manon standing by the rear of her car, their arms crossed and faces tight.

Elide swallowed and reached for the words she’d been saying over and over in her head for the last 24 hours. They were on the tip of her tongue-

“Manon!” Lysandra’s shout was cut off by Manon barrelling into Elide, pulling her into one of the most suffocating bear hugs she’d ever received. It was exactly what she needed.

“You scared the ever-living daylights out of us” she said into Elide’s hair.

Elide leaned her head on Manon’s shoulder. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Manon shook her head, and Elide watched as Lysandra and Aelin took a few steps forward, readying to pull Manon away should Elide need them to.

“There’s no need to be sorry, but Jesus, Elide, you just… disappeared after Saturday night. No one could get in touch with you all of Sunday, not even Lorcan.” Elide froze at his name. She mumbled another “sorry” into Manon’s shoulder and gripped her harder so that she wouldn’t notice.

“All right, all right” Lysandra said as she gently pried Manon’s arms off of Elide. “Don’t smother her.”

Elide smiled at her. “It’s alright-” and then Lysandra was gripping her in another extremely tight bear hug.

“Hey!” Manon shouted, scowling at Lysandra.

“You had plenty of time with her, it’s my turn now.”

“I got less than a minute-”

“Ladies” Aelin said, stepping between them. “This is about Elide right now, not you.” Aelin stepped towards Lysandra and Lysandra took a step away. 

“Don’t even try, Aelin. You’ll get your turn in a minute.” Elide giggled as Aelin sighed and took a step back.

Lysandra smoothed down the hair on top of her head and said, “Do you want to tell us what happened- after Saturday, I mean. It’s okay if you’re not ready.”

Elide smiled up at her, at all of them, and took a small step forward- Lysandra reluctantly loosened her grip.

“It’s true,” Elide swallowed, “what Maeve said about my parents. That’s all true.” She wrapped her arms around herself, tighter, remembering what Dr. Ren had told her.

“I’ve spent the last nine or so years of my life… in denial. My parents, when they died, they were all I had. I was horrible at making friends, and when Vernon became my guardian, well, you might imagine why he didn’t exactly give me someone to talk to. The SDD tried to get me to talk, to acknowledge what had happened. They worked tirelessly to try and convince my uncle that I needed therapy but my uncle doesn’t really believe in mental illness, of any sort, and I… it was just too much for me,” Elide tried to meet all of their eyes as she talked but the bareness of the moment forced her eyes down to the pavement, “I didn’t talk for almost an entire year after they died. I had no outlet for the pain,” her voice cracked on the word, “the utter pain I was going through. Eventually I learned it was easier to shove it all down. Everyone said that since I was young I would quickly get past it and I took that as meaning that I had to quickly get past it. And so I did everything you’re not supposed to do when trying to grieve about the death of your loved ones.” 

Elide gestured a hand to all of them, “I pushed people away... and I let the mention of the most amazing parents in the world become a trigger for my concealed anxiety and grief. And after Saturday, I couldn’t push it all back down after Saturday. And so nine years of pent up… everything came tumbling out.”

None of them spoke for a moment.

Then: “You talked to one hell of a therapist yesterday, didn’t you,” Manon said. 

Elide let out a nervous chuckle. “Yeah, he set me straight.” Elide said, tracing the lines on one of her textbooks.

“So you’re okay?” Lysandra asked, wrapping her arms tentatively around Elide.

“No” Elide said, “I’m actually far from it. But …” Elide cleared her throat and hastily brushed away a fallen tear. “That’s okay. I know that.” 

“Good” Aelin said. She reached for Elide, then, waving off a pissed Lysandra. “We’re going to be right here while you get through all of it, Elide. Absolutely all of it.”

“Thank you” Elide said, gladly accepting her third bear hug of the day. “And I’m sorry about how I reacted on Saturday, it must have been so scary for all of you. I’m really, truly sorry-”

“Don’t apologize” Aelin said, smoothing down her hair. “You don’t need to. What Maeve did was the definition of malicious, and you didn’t hear it but everyone booed her off stage after Lorcan rushed you out of the room.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t disqualify her from the race after that,” Lysandra said, and then she grimaced. “Gods I can still remember the look on her face-”

“Lysandra” Manon warned, “we all know she’s a bitch, but we don’t need to debate how much of one she is right at this second.”

Lysandra looked down at her feet and mumbled, “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay, really” Elide said. “I don’t mind talking about how much of a bitch she is at all.”

“Oh thank the gods” Lysandra sighed, rushing over to Elide and grasping her hand. “Let’s all go sit down somewhere and discuss this. It’s going to be a lengthy conversation- there is so much bitchy-ness about her that you don’t even know about it.”

“Are we really doing this?” Manon said, raising a single brow. “Doesn’t that make us a bit petty?” A snort from Lysandra.

They all turned to Aelin, but Aelin just shrugged. “What Elide says, goes.”

Manon’s jaw twitched and then she threw up her hands. “What the hell.”

Elide giggled as the four of them linked arms and walked towards the school together. Manon had been right- she had talked to one hell of a shrink yesterday. But she hadn’t just helped her sift through the memories, figure out how to deal with the pain.

Lysandra cackled at something Manon said, and Aelin smiled back at them, unrestrained.

No, she’d also helped her realize how amazing her friends were. And that was best part of all.

~  

If he couldn’t find her before the end of the day- he didn’t know what he was going to do. He just had to talk to her. He just had to know if she was alright.

His feet pounded into the concrete of the school parking lot... (I’m sorry I stopped typing here)

Here’s how I originally outlined the chapter (you can see some changes for when I actually sat down and wrote it):

Chp 17 Summary

Monday morning- day of election results. Elide is a mess. She hasn’t talked to anyone since Saturday night: this includes Lorcan. At school she’s confronted by friends and they’re all worried about her. They make up- Elide opens up to them about it. Lorcan clears things up with Rowan in the parking lot, they walk towards the school together. Then Lorcan comes over and asks to speak with Elide alone- they talk, and Lorcan gives her a new backpack (green like the carpet in the library). Asks if she could take care of Hellas for him- she says yes. They walk into the school hand in hand, knowing what they are and what they could be would have to wait for now.

Chapter Specifics

Outside of School

Elide sitting in her car again, contemplating the weekend. Reflective of first chapter- when she’s sitting there, not sure how things are going to go. 

Walks towards the school in a daze. Aelin & Co waiting for her a few feet from the school. Everyone is tentative but then Manon comes running over and gives Elide a hug. It’s just what she needs.

Elide says she’s sorry and opens up to them about her thought. They all just tell her it’s not her fault for any of it and they’re sorry that happened to her.

Lorcan & Rowan Meeting

Lorcan walking towards Elide when Rowan steps in front of him. The two tersely talk 

Flashback scene of sorts about what Rowan did for him the night before (Cain trying to goad Lorcan into a fight of sorts and Rowan stepping in)

at the end of it the two shake hands and are on good terms again.

Lorcan walks over to Elide and asks to speak with her alone. Bell rings for class to start but Lorcan leads them down a trail to talk.

He’s awkward until Elide leans up and kisses him. She tells him thank you

He gives her the backpack. Elide opens it up to find a copy of A Court of Wings and Ruin, and the picture of her parents protruding from it. 

Lorcan says he wishes he could have made her happy like that. Elide says he did. In the short time they had, he did.

Lorcan asks her to take care of Hellas. She says of course.

Elide leans up and kisses him again and says that she’ll always care about him. And maybe in the future they’ll be something (make sure you don’t rush this!!)

Lorcan starts stuttering and Elide shakes her head. She explains that as much as she cares about him, she knows how much the long distance thing will wear down on them- and that he needs to be his own person when he comes back to her.

Outdoors speakers announce that Aelin and her team had won the election as they approach the school building.

Elide walks into the school with Lorcan, prepared for the day ahead. And the next. And then the next, and the next…

Epilogue

I actually don’t have any notes for this (I THOUGHT I DID I’M SORRY) but I think I had it so that they bump into each other at Terrasen University or something like that and they start as friends but eventually begin dating and then get married in the library and the last scene is them at their spot in the library in their wedding apparel just holding each other (because I’m sappy like that)

Thank you all, again. Writing this was a pleasure and I could not have asked for a better community and support group

- Abs

[inspired-by-the-music]

For You: Stand By Me

Taglist: @jineunwootrash @angels-from-california @jayjaydawn

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!

Recommended Reading: For You: 4 O’Clock; these works have separate, independent, but deeply interwoven timelines.

Chapter 15: The Girl Who Woke Me Up

Sehun's POV

It wasn't like Lei to be late, but she was nowhere to be found half an hour into the New Year's party. Although she had been helping her mother set up just a few hours earlier, Lei was not by Manager Kim's side as she made frantic rounds about the room, tiptoeing carefully around Donghae's lingering gaze. Although she and Lucas were nearly inseparable, Lei did not stand by him as he downed another glass of champagne while laughing with Mark Lee at the NCT table.

I was about to send her a concerned text when Taemin said from his side of Jongin, "She is so beautiful."

Like everybody else at the table, I looked toward whoever managed to turn Taemin's voice into a lyrical whisper. It didn't matter that it was none of our business who held Taemin's heart. When somebody loves that openly, everybody wants to watch for a second or two— even me.

My jaw dropped as my eyes settled on her. She was Lei.

Walking beside Baekhyun, Lei held three hearts in the palm of her hand: mine, Baekhyun's, and Taemin's. And I don't even think she knew what she held, what she could destroy with a single touch should she so choose. I think she only felt the weight of my heart because I forced it upon her through forever-kisses at that Christmas Party.

But how— how light, how insignificant might my heart feel compared to that of her ultimate idol? How cold and callous and uncaring might my voice sound compared to his?

How dark, how dull might my love look compared to that of the boy standing next to her? How rough and careless and frozen might my touch feel compared to his when he catches her before she can fall?

My stomach twisted as I fought (and failed) to tear my eyes from the visual of Lei and Baekhyun. They matched so perfectly from head to toe that, had I not known better, had I not believed that she loved me, I would have assumed that she coordinated her outfit with him.

Their dark hair was parted on the left side. Their clothes were crafted from the same sparkling midnight blue material. Their silver masks were a perfect pair that accented their best facial features. Their flowers— their flowers were the worst part. Atop her head, Lei wore a crown of white roses accented by blue baby's breath; she looked like a princess. In the suit pocket over his heart, Baekhyun tucked a white rose; he looked like her prince.

At that moment, I realized that it is much harder to believe in coincidence than it is to believe in fate. At that moment when she was so far out of reach, it was easy to see that Lei and Baekhyun were written in the stars, and I— where was I written?

Suddenly, it was as clear to everyone in the banquet hall as it was to me at the foot of the stairs in Lei's house: they were meant to walk together. Lei and Baekhyun were meant to be viewed as a pair.

As whispers about them, some approving and some disapproving, overtook the party, the tips of my ears burned. My hands formed tight fists under the table. And all I can remember thinking is I have to hide my breaking heart. No, I have to keep it from breaking, at least for now, because it is in her hands. My heart is in her delicate hands, and the jagged shards will make her bleed.

It didn't matter that Baekhyun was standing right there, willing and ready to bandage her. It didn't matter that Taemin could stop the bleeding with a single smile. I didn't want to hurt Lei ever again; I didn't want to scar her anymore. If protecting her meant suffering silently— well— that wasn't anything I hadn't done before.

Quietly, Jongdae whistled. "Who knew that sweet little Princess Lei would grow up to be so pretty?"

Chanyeol laughed loudly as his elbow dug into my ribs. "Someone did, right, Sehun?"

Obviously, I wouldn't have responded to Chanyeol's jest even if I could have found my voice. I wouldn't have known what to say.

Afraid of saying or doing something to shatter the loving image I left with Lei on Christmas, I turned to walk away from the scene that threatened to destroy me. Of course, I wasn't going to hide forever. The plan was to stand some ways away long enough to untangle the knot in my stomach. The plan was to stand aside to remind myself that choices are as significant as fate, and I was Lei's choice. I am Lei’s choice. 

The problem, of course, was my promise to stand where she could see me. I won't go far, I told myself. I'll stand right there, right against that wall, and maybe— hopefully— wouldn't it be nice if she comes to me?

That's pathetic, isn't it— the fact that I still dreamed that she would take the first steps? I'm sorry that I wasn't stronger. I'm sorry that I wasn't bolder. Always, always I was aware of my inadequacies. Always, always I daydreamed about filling them with her. At that moment, however, it occurred to me that that was not right; it occurred to me that that is not love. Above all, it occurred to me that I wanted to give Lei the purest love in her life. 

And I— I didn’t know how. Nobody ever taught me how. 

On my walk, I nearly collided with Taemin. Despite his eagerness to escape the table, he said, "Excuse me, Sehun," through a small smile. The smile wasn't a forced display of manners; it was genuine. I could tell because little wrinkles formed around his eyes.

I had never seen a smile like that before. Although faint, it was not at all sad or indicative of a broken heart even though we were walking away from the same scene: the one we loved beside another. Taemin's smile was joyful, inspired merely by seeing Lei from afar.

I needed to be more like Taemin, I realized as my back pressed against the wall. I needed to learn to love Lei a little more quietly, a little more peacefully, a little more selflessly. Rather than loving her like the careless teenager I had been when we met, rather than relying on her for constant assurance in our relationship that endured storms over a decade, rather than hoping for her to meet me most or all of the way—

I needed to grow up. I needed to find assurance in the steady beating of my own heart. I needed to take the first step for the rest of forever. I would. I will. That’s the promise I made to myself, the promise I made in one of the hearts she held. 

I will love you. I won’t love you perfectly. I won’t love you through a smile as gentle as Taemin’s. I won’t love you with an unmistakable, inescapable warmth like Baekhyun. But I will love you in the best way I know. I will love you with every word I say. I will love you with the words I am not yet brave enough to say. I will love you so deeply for the rest of my life that you will never wonder how I feel. You will never wonder who hung the moon and stars in my sky. 

While Lei defended herself against Chanyeol’s allegation that she had broken my heart as if she could ever be cruel enough to do such a thing, I wrestled with the best way to express my feelings. A verbal conversation wouldn’t do; she enjoyed debating and pressing my buttons too much. I couldn’t very well write a song; that would require enlisting the help of someone like Chanyeol who had better knowledge of music production, and I didn’t want to share my feelings with him (or anybody else, for that matter). 

While Manager Kim captivated the entire room with her heartfelt good-bye’s to Super Junior and Heechul declared that she was resigning from her position as their manager because of her feelings for Donghae, I decided that I could best express myself in writing. Starting from the beginning, I could map out our stars, and there— there I would be written. 

There, I could point to myself on a page and say, ‘I belong here too. I love her too. Even if she wakes up tomorrow and chooses one of you, even if my nightmares come true and she outgrows me, once upon a time, she chose me. Once upon a time, she loved me. Once upon a time, we were the best love story ever written, and I— I— I will never forget that I was her first love, so you shouldn’t either.’

That’s what I wrote on the inside cover of the leather-bound notebook containing our story, by the way. That’s the first of my thoughts that Lei read in my handwriting; it made her break into laughing tears. By that, I mean she was gasping through laughter and tears. So I was also gasping through laughter and tears when she set the book on our bed, crawled to me, and cupped my cheeks with her soft, warm hands, whispering onto my lips, “My first love, my endless love, my Sehun— I am so glad the road led to you.” 

And I believe her. 

When I found Lei standing alone on the terrace where everyone gathered to watch fireworks an hour early at Changmin’s urging, I embraced her. I didn’t think much of the fact that somebody was always watching. I didn’t much care about lingering stares, and I told Lei plainly when she mumbled into my chest, “Someone is going to see, Sehunnie.” 

“I love you,” I reminded her in a whisper per her request. My heart melted into a warm golden puddle in my stomach because of the spoken nickname and because she didn’t push me away. She didn’t argue with me as I declared, “I love you so much that I want everyone to see.” 

That was a funny thing to say, considering that we were huddled together in the darkest corner where no eyes would have strayed. 

I dropped a kiss onto her flower crown because it marked her as a princess— my princess— and it didn’t matter that Baekhyun gave it to her. The affection, I hoped, I prayed, would make me her prince. 

“I love you so much,” I muttered against a rose, “that I want everyone to hear.” 

That was a funny thing to say, considering that I spoke in the faintest whisper that only she could hear. 

Lei giggled as she linked her hands around my waist beneath my jacket. Her laughter was, is, always will be the most beautiful melody in this world. I loved being its conductor. I loved being its audience. 

“I’m so happy, Sehun.” She said my name with the brightest smile I had ever seen. 

It so closely resembled the smile she gave me all those years ago when she first gave me her name. It was still too big for her face, and it made her look much younger than the scowl she hurled at Chanyeol in the banquet hall. The only difference was that she no longer spoke through a gap in her front teeth; the gap was closed. 

After assuring her that I was happy too— far happier than I ever imagined because she stood near— I said, “I miss your gap, Lei. You’re beautiful, and I wouldn’t change a single thing about you, but I really wish I could see your gappy smile one more time.” 

“There are plenty of pictures of it.” The tips of her ears burned red at the compliment, and I thought that I had to call her beautiful every day. From the dimple forming in her chin, however, it was evident that she knew the limitations of photographs. “You know, I miss my gap too. I hated it when I had it, but the thing is: I always picture myself with a gap in my front teeth.” 

I stared into her wide eyes, finding my lovestruck reflection within them. “I always think of you with stars in your eyes.” 

I heard her breath hitch as she held me closer. Breathlessly, she reached for my hand. “I always think of you with my heart on your hand.” 

After bringing my frozen, trembling hand up her lips, she left a ruby-red kiss mark where she once left a fingerprint heart. I wanted to carry that mark everywhere with me. I wanted to boast it to everybody, and I promised to learn how to do that. I promised to learn who to tell. I promised to learn what to say to make them understand how much it meant to me— how much it means to me. 

I think I have learned. I think I have made you understand. I hope that I have. Please, tell me that I have. 

Her gesture rooted in our past, her touch— still electric— made my heart flutter. Her touch, even as my favorite memory, still makes my heart flutter. 

Her touch compelled me to say out loud, “I fell in love with you the day you marked your heart on my hand, you know. All at once, I opened my eyes and realized I was on the edge of a cliff, and I—” I choked on my emotions, but I forced myself to continue— “I was so scared that you wouldn’t wait for me at the bottom.” 

The wind blew and filled my eyes with tears that I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to become an overtly sentimental person, but every wall I ever built around my emotions tumbled at her touch. I didn’t want to shed a single tear, but Lei brought both hands up to my face, wordlessly promising to catch each tear before they fell. 

Lei loved me. She loved me so much from the day we met, and I— I am so grateful. I did not know whether love was meant to be repaid, but I resolved in that moment under her moon and all of her stars to return every loving gaze for the rest of my life. 

I held both of her hands against my cheeks because her touch made me brave enough to speak. “You said that I could walk with you anytime. And I just want you to know that I want to walk with you forever. I want you to know that I’m so sorry for—”

For trying to walk away. For breaking her mistletoe crown. For failing to regard her heart as the treasure it had been all along. 

But I couldn’t say any of those things she deserved to hear. My throat tightened around my words. 

Wiping my tears, Lei promised, “I forgive you. I forgive you, Sehunnie. Everything— everything painful is past, and now we are walking hand-in-hand on a path that doesn’t end.” Her thumbs stroked my cheeks, raising goosebumps in their wake. “Don’t carry things we don’t need, angel. Don’t carry things that will only hurt you. It’s okay.” 

Lei pulled me into the sweetest kiss. It lasted for about a millisecond, a blink in time, and I knew that was all we were, but God— God— we felt infinite. I think— no, I know this is love: when somebody makes you, a mere mortal, feel as though time has stopped; when somebody makes you feel as if forever, eternity, and fate were words written for you. 

“In case you forgot,” Lei said, “I love you too.” She beamed up at me, so I had to smile even as she winked in an attempt to dig under my skin: “In case you forgot, I loved you first!” 

Because I couldn’t argue with the truth, I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. Okay. You loved me first, but—” I caught her around the waist and leaned to whisper in her ear— “I’ll love you longer.” 

“As if,” she scoffed, pushing me away so I could catch the furrowing of her brow. “How can you even make such a bold claim? I told you, Sehunnie, I’ve loved you forever, and I’ll love you forevermore. What could last longer than forever?”

Feigning deep contemplation, I hummed through puckered lips, hoping that Lei would rise to kiss them. (Note: Lei never disappoints.) “Maybe forever in writing? I think I heard once that a love recorded on paper, in a film, or in a song lives forever.” 

“If you’re planning to write about me,” she said, “you should know that I’ve been writing about you too. I’ve been trying to map out or stars since we kissed in your car, but I— I can’t figure out how the stars aligned.” Her head went aslant. “But I also can’t figure out how we could have ended up anywhere else with anybody else.” 

It had been made clear to me that any misstep could have led Lei to Baekhyun or Taemin. Maybe she will find her way to them someday no matter what I do, but I gave no voice to those thoughts. Taking a deep breath, I soared at the imagination of Lei writing to pinpoint the correlation between the me of the past, the me of her dreams, and the me of right now. I hoped she was proud to have created a place where we could be together forever, even if someday we should wake up on different paths. 

It’s romantic, isn’t it, that we separately experienced the same epiphany concerning our stars? 

“Some things are just meant to be,” I figured, sounding unlike the version of myself who struggled to believe in things like destiny, the version I had been for almost all of my life. “You and I— Lei, we are the greatest meant to be I can imagine.” 

When I stepped into the warmth of the agency building from the winter snow, I quickly found Lei asleep at that table by the vending machine where we met. Her face was almost completely nuzzled into the bend of her elbow, into the cloud-soft baby blue sleeve of her sweater. Her dark hair sprawled over much of the table; it was so long then, almost reaching her waist. She shouldn’t have been recognizable, but I would have known her anywhere, from any distance. 

“Wake up,” I whispered into her ear as I settled into the chair next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist. “I’m here.” 

Once Lei sat upright and set to rubbing her sleep-swollen eyes, it was obvious that we couldn’t go out on an adventurous date. That much should have been obvious, I know, determined by our roles as idols, but I hadn’t shaken that image of her and Baekhyun standing together at the New Year’s party from the front of my mind. 

I wasn’t jealous anymore. That initial towering wave of nausea and the drowning sense of inferiority had passed without casting me overboard. It just occurred to me once the storm cleared and the sun broke through the clouds that I wanted to be the person by her side forever; I wanted to stand by her in the light; I wanted it to be obvious to strangers from a glance that we were meant to walk together. 

Rising to her feet and slinging her bookbag— the tiny pink Hello Kitty bag she carried since childhood, the bag still donning the keychain I bought for her tenth birthday— Lei groaned, “I’m exhausted! And I didn’t even realize it until I woke up.” 

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” I said as I followed her, “but there are more comfortable places to sleep, you know.” 

Lei had worked herself to the point of exhaustion, I know without a doubt, because she made no argument; she loved to argue. 

On our walk to the door, I reached for her hand, which was always much smaller than mine. She flinched at the contact probably because my hands were always cold, maybe because she wasn’t yet used to affection, hopefully because my touch was electric. 

As shocked as she had been at the start, Lei was the one who interlaced our fingers. Lei was the one who whined when I had to break the contact to open the passenger door and then round to the driver's seat. Lei was the one who reached for my hand as soon as I set it on the steering wheel. 

“I just want to feel you.” Her words blurred together drowsily, but her eyes shot open— wide awake— when I glanced at her. “Your hands are so warm, Sehunnie, and it’s so cold outside. I’m freezing!”

After turning the heat up, I said through a budding smile while starting down the familiar path to her house, “Nobody has ever called my hands warm. Then again, nobody ever held my hands before you.” 

“And nobody will hold my hands after you,” I almost said. Because I didn’t want to think of a time after her— I didn’t want to think of a time without her— I bit down on my tongue. I left those words unsaid. Unspoken words hold power too. 

“Your hand was warm at the drive-in too,” she told me. “Holding your hand made me feel like the moon and stars smiled down at us.” 

There was no moon and there were no stars that night, I remembered clearly, but I didn’t remind Lei. Maybe this sounds crazy, but I hope she misremembered a lot about those days before I could love her. In a way, I hoped she romanticized them; I hoped she saw them— I hope she saw the past me— through love-colored lenses. I hoped the stars smiled in all of her memories. 

With an almost childlike quality of honesty— the kind that I never wanted to argue with, the kind I only thought I had to argue with— Lei said, “Holding your hand makes me feel like spring has come.” 

Butterflies raged in my stomach and told me the perfect thing to say: “That’s funny. Looking at you makes me feel like spring has come.” 

I think that might have made her squeal had she not been drifting to sleep. Her head banged against the window every few seconds. 

“Lay back,” I tried to demand sternly, but my voice was nothing but a gentle whisper around her after Christmas. “Lei, lean your chair back and go to sleep. You’re gonna bruise your face or give yourself a concussion if you keep hitting your head.” 

Without opening her eyes, she argued, “I don’t wanna go to sleep! I wanna stay awake with you!” 

She was being rather childish, I thought, but she repeated that sentiment once we sat together on her living room couch, which was no longer tainted by the memory of finding Lucas atop her on her birthday. 

“But you’re tired.” Tightening my arms around her waist, I pulled her closer and encouraged her to lean into me, to fall asleep on me. “Just close your eyes, and I’ll go to sleep with you.” 

Lei didn’t resist my pull. Her eyelashes tickled the skin on my neck as she laid against me and allowed her eyelids to flutter shut. Without mumbling another word, she fell into that deep heavy-breathing sleep, and I wondered how many nights she had avoided sleep. I wondered how I was supposed to fall asleep with her laying so close. I wondered how I was supposed to close my eyes while my heart pounded in my chest, eager to break free and unite with hers. I wondered how I was supposed to breathe while her breath whispered across my skin. 

I was wide awake— I am wide awake— and I never want to sleep again.

[valkyriesryde]

Release the Hounds {6/?}

Chapter Six: Am I Supposed to Fight?

Pairing: Persephone!Steve Rogers x Hades!Reader

Chapter Summary: Both sides are preparing but the question of whether they will actually have to fight is still standing. And everyone has an opinion.

Word Count: ...2,000ish lol

A/N: Sooooo I’m a slack human being but I’m not giving up on this story! Just have a bit of a busy life at the moment hahah here you go fambam please forgive me. I’m going to try and smash out several chapters in the next week before I go on holiday/school starts back up.

Series Masterlist ~ Masterlist

As Hades stepped into the home of her brother she slipped off her coat and threw it over the back of the couch in the first living room. 

“Where art thou my dear brother?” She called through the house and a sweet whistle sounded down the stairs and around her. She dressed and presented herself much more casual than when she met with Thor. She no longer adorned her business attire, dressed in black jeans and a loose t-shirt. Her boots hitting the marble as she climbed the stairs. 

Loki’s house is extravagant. The outside something like a greek temple with its decorated ionic columns and statues. The inside much the same in its sense of power. But Loki likes to be comfortable.  His home has a, well, homely feel to it. Art adorns every wall, in every corner but the blanket is thrown lazily over the couch, there’s a pile of books on the coffee table and as she walks down the hallway she can smell the sea salt as if they were right next to the ocean. She can hear the horses in his backyard through the open windows. Hades always enjoyed coming to Loki’s home because thats what it was. A home. It wasn’t a place of work, apart from his office, his children come and go as they please, there’s always dishes to be washed and laundry to be folded. She felt welcomed here.

“Since when do you work this late?” She leaned on the doorframe of his office as Loki looked up from his piles of paper, his long black hair disheveled from running his fingers through it.

“I’m a very hard worker excuse you,” he smiled and offered her the seat in front of his desk, reaching into a draw next to him and bringing out two glasses and a bottle of nectar in a beautifully adorned glass bottle. Hades’ eyes lingered on the bottle as she ached for him to just hand the thing to her so she could pour it down her throat. Lord she needed a drink after this week.

“And I’m beloved by all,” her voice was sarcastic and she drooled as he handed her the glass and raised his eyebrows.

“By me especially,” he winked. Loki, forever the cheeky bastard.

“My biggest supporter,” she smiled and they clinked their glasses. 

Loki looked back down at his work, his forehead crinkled and his lip pulled between his teeth, she had an inkling to rip out the paper from under him but knew better to disturb him while he thought. It could be important afterall. 

So instead her eyes wandered, they moved to the ceiling tall bookcase to his right, spotting some of her favourites amongst his collection. She stood and walked towards the giant fish tank he had to his left and peered in, watching the exotic fish minding their business.

“Why can’t people be more like you,” she muttered under her breath and the red and blue fish with a tail that looked like it belonged to a feather dancer stared blankly back at her.

“They don’t like being stared at,” Loki chimed from his desk, his attention still on his papers. She sighed and fell back into the seat.

“Perhaps if you joined me for dinner and a drink or two I wouldn’t. Why are you working, work is off limits on our nights.” She was getting agitated, her entire week had been filled with work, forgetting about the normal stuff, the addition of the council and that damn god of spring was starting to give her a headache. “I’m sick of work! I just want a night off, please Loki.” 

“Well I’m sick of you being treated poorly by assholes who think they’re better.” His voice was stern and she leaned back for a second in shock at it. Loki was not often passionate about things. Unless someone had spoken poorly against him or, in Odysseus’ case injured his son and was just a “lying good for nothing asshole!” Loki fought when it was his reputation on the line, but this, this was different, the last time Hades had seen Loki fight for someone other than himself was when he went by Poseidon and they fought side by side with Thor, then Zeus, against their father. Hades prayed a war would not come of this strife that was forming between the Olympians.

“Thor told me what you’re doing, why didn’t you come to me about this? I would have told y-“

“You would have told me to stop, that it’s for nothing but I’m sorry to say Hades, you’re wrong.”  

Steve had his nose buried in his notebook while his mother went on about her campaign to “keep that wicked witch of the Underworld from getting her death grip on the council.” He sketched out the cornucopia from the gates, the flowers that had adorned it. The pages were covered in those sketches, one of her crown, how it was burned into his memory but he didn’t dare draw her face. Currently his pencil shaded a hand, with a vine twisted around it, the thorns piercing its skin and Steve couldn’t help but feel the prickle of the thorns in his own hand.

“Steve!” He jumped at the sound of his mother’s voice. The book slammed shut and he slid into his pocket as she dropped a clipboard into his hands. “Go around the council’s homes, get their signature. Thor needs proof that we will not stand for her to sit with us. We must band together in a time like this. I have no doubt the olympians will agree.” He dropped the clipboard onto the table and shook his head. She paid no attention to him, instead continuing her work as she wrote notes for the debate. “Sing your name too, we can’t forget about ourselves.”

He picked up the clipboard and walked out the door making his way out of the house towards Bucky’s home first. 

Bucky’s house always confused Steve, the interior and furniture changed every couple millennia but the outside, the general idea of it was always the same and it was never extravagant. Most homes in Olympus didn’t change much, they just added things to keep up with the times. Bucky’s home was basically a shack. A cabin in the woods. A beach house with the lake view to match. Made of dark wood with a porch that stretched around the entire front of the house. Bucky’s home was one that matched its owner in its entirety. Bucky was a relaxed man, he took things as they came and he was never very serious. It was one of the reasons Steve enjoyed his company so much because when his mother was up his ass or his work was being exceptionally hard Bucky was there with a pat on the back and a drink in his hand inviting him to watch the sunset over the water. 

They were best friends, could always count on one another no matter what, Steve knew that Bucky had his back always, and so he knew now that no matter how much Bucky disapproved of the situation he would still back Steve. 

“You’re mother is going to kill you.” Bucky sat leaning on his knees on the couch, his beer long forgotten about on the coffee table as he held the clipboard in one hand shaking his head at Steve. 

“Pretty sure she always kind of wants to kill me.”

“Never. You’re her special little boy, her one perfect creation,” Bucky cocked a smile at his friend who rolled his eyes back. 

“Shut up,” Steve leaned back and sipped at his own beer, watching it spin in his hands. It was a solid plan, if he went to the right people it would work, he could go behind his mother and her campaign and plead Hades’ case. Maybe even talk to Loki, though he wasn’t sure if Loki would believe him. He wasn’t overly sure if anyone would believe him. 

“You already know I’m on your side Steve. I know Hades, I remember the last time she sat on the council. She’s smart, she has the knowledge and the authority, she deserves to be there, but the younger gods, the once who have forgotten what she did, the ones that have never worked with her. They don’t know. They eat out of Demeter’s hands with all her bullshit about satan and how we ‘don’t need the dead in the business of the living’,” Bucky mocked Demeter, he was never afraid to do that in front of Steve, at first he felt slightly weird about it, like his mother would know if he ever spoke a bad word about her but he soon realised the Bucky was safe, he could be himself and say what he wanted without consequences, well, with little consequences. 

Steve thought about what Bucky had said, he knew that Bucky would be on his side, Bucky had never not shown support for Hades herself, just, ya know, the stupid shit Steve did in Hades…

But something stayed with Steve. ‘the ones that have never worked with her’, had Bucky worked with Hades? When would Bucky have to work with her? Bucky worked with the sun, he worked with prophecies and medicine, none of which concerned the dead.

“Start with Becca, she and I are one of the same, Pallas-Nat, she’ll be on your side too, I know she’s already talked to Loki about it. That’s who you should go to after, to him, if he knows, if he has confirmation from Nat, I know they hate each other because of Athens and Odysseus but he trusts her word, he trusts that she’ll choose the winning side.” Bucky went on and on about who Steve should see, who he knew that would be on his side.

He listened intently, took note and made a plan of what he should say to each. To Becca, goddess of the hunt, the best way was to talk to her about Bucky, they always fought side by side. To Natasha, goddess of wisdom, it was going to be harder. But if Bucky was right then she already agreed with Steve, they just needed to join forces.  

Hades,

I don’t know when you’ll get this, I plan on giving it to Peter to pass on, I know I can trust him to get this to you safely. There’s five days before the council debates and I thought you would appreciate an update as to what is happening in Olympus.

I imagine you have your own ways, maybe spies, Loki has probably discussed matters with you also. He said he had told you he would fight whether you liked it or not, how you told him that he was stubborn. You said I was stubborn as well, I guess I am, but I can’t help fighting for what I believe in. I believe in you. I believe that you should have a say and so do many of the others, Loki, Becca, Natasha, and Jane all agree with me. I think we actually have a shot but Loki thinks it will take your appearance to convince Thor and the lesser gods and nymphs that will be present.

I hope to see you there, please. 

Yours,

Steve 

Hades and Sam sat side by side on the balcony that overlooked the gates. They watched as night engulfed them and there was an eery silence between the two. A fresh argument still sitting between them, two sides of the same fight. 

Hades’ mind was fighting with itself, her guard was being torn down brick by brick as Loki and Steve tried to convince her to stand before the twelve Olympians. But Sam wasn’t a fan of the idea.

“What if it’s a trap,” he argued, “we don’t know what Demeter has up her sleeve,” he said, “we don’t need them!” He raised his voice and she let him get it all out.

“Are you finished yet?” She brushed her hand over her dress and looked at him as Sam nodded. “You’re right.” 

Sam was shocked at what she said, he expected her to rationalise her reasons, he expected her to tell him to mind his own business, to tell him that she would stand up for the Underworld. But she didn’t.

“I’m what now?”

“You’re right Sam. Everything about this is stupid. The living and the dead shouldn’t be mixed, bad things happen, bad things like husbands wanting to resurrect their wives, like people thinking they can make deals in order to mess with what is natural. They don’t respect us or what we do here, you’re right, it could be a trap. Demeter will make it a living hell for myself and the rest of you here if she can. You’re right, we don’t need them, we run things differently here, our systems aren’t the same.”

“Then what…” Sam looked at Hades in awe, there was fire in her eyes and he knew that look, she was sick of being undermined, she was angry, she was determined and if he knew her as well as he thought he did he knew what that look meant. She had a plan. “Then why are you considering it?”

“Because they need us.”

Chapter Seven: Here Comes Trouble

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[beeblebrox-be-damned]

Growth (Parts 3-5)

Dark!Loki x Reader

TW: not much in these bits.

Posting these all together to save time. I finished the series while my data was out and put it all on AO3, so now I’m smashing some of it together depending on the time it is in the story.

Sometimes Loki felt bad about what he’d done. Not much, but just a little. You had seemed so upset about it. So, he did what he had to do a told a little white lie to solve that, and added a bit more to cheer you up, relax you.

He hadn’t done anything wrong. If anything, he’d done everything right.

He had made you happy. You deserved happiness. He could give that to you, and he would, no matter what. Yes, his methods were… ahem, unconventional at best, but they worked didn’t they?

He watched you closely as you relaxed into the pillows propped up behind you. You were engrossed in your book. That was something he loved about you, the way to immersed yourself in what you enjoyed. He smiled as he watched you.

For so long, he’d pined for you. The first day he met you, he was captivated. Your eyes, your voice, your smile. Breathtaking.

When your father had interfered, his heart was broken. He’d run home, crying. As soon as he got to the palace he’d changed back into his normal self, flung himself on his bed, and sobbed his heart out.

His mother had found him like that after he didn’t show up to dinner. She had sat down on the bed, stroking his inky locks.

“What troubles you, dear?” she asked gently. He turned over and looked at her, his face tearstained and eyelids red. He sniffled as he tried to find the words to explain.

“I-I am just very sad about someone, Mother,” he had whimpered. She scooped him up until he was leaning against her. He closed his eyes, hiccuping sobs bursting from his mouth.

“Who? Someone from the palace? Was someone cruel to you?” Her voice was soft and wrought with concern. She’d never seen him so distraught.

He shook his head. “N-o…” He was reluctant to admit that it was a villager, as that would reveal his private escapades. “I-it’s just…”

His mother smiled knowingly. “Someone from the town?” She knew? Loki’s heart thudded in his chest. He nodded shyly.

“I guess you’re angry ‘bout that,” he sighed.

She shook her head, laughing. Loki thought she had the most beautiful laugh, asides from yours. “No, dear, I’m not angry. You are adventurous by nature. It’s only natural for you to want to expand your horizons.”

The corner of his mouth twitched into a small smile for a moment before he remembered his woes and frowned. “Well, I met a girl. And she’s very nice and fun…” he admitted “But her father says I can’t talk to her anymore.” He burst into a fresh round of tears. “Mother, she’s m-my best friend!”

Frigga held her son close. “Don’t worry dear, I’m sure it will all be alright.” She pursed her lips, thinking. “I assume her father is unaware you are a prince?”

Loki nodded. “But even if he did, we still couldn’t be friends. There’s nothing I can do,” he lamented. 

Frigga was silent for a moment. “There is, dear.”

The moment he saw you in the throne room, Loki felt every single piece of his life lock into place. It was perfect.

You were perfect. Every single thing about you.

And he nearly lost you. He really should not have told you about the charm he’d used to ensure you’d be there on the Day of Choosing. Big mistake.

You were angry before that, and that made it much, much worse. It broke his heart to see you in tears, so upset by what he’d done. He could understand your perspective on the matter, but it had been all for you. But you couldn’t see it that way.

So he lied. He told you he’d taken it away, but he really hadn’t. And for extra measure, he added a bit more. You needed it. You were so upset, it hurt to see you like that. He made you feel better. The way you had melted into his arms after that told him everything he needed to know.

You were his, and you had accepted it.

He smiled. You turned a page, still not noticing his adoring gaze. Your knees were drawn up under the blankets, your book rested on your stomach and leaning against them. Soon your belly would be quite a bit more substantial.

The thought made him shiver. He knew for many years that he wanted to start a family with you, wanted to breed you and watch your belly grow as you nurtured his child within, but witnessing it happen was almost too much for him to handle. The idea that a part of him now was always inside of you, safe and warm, made his heart swell.

Of course, his heart was not the only thing effected by the thought. In fact, that effect was quite noticeable at the moment as he watched you. He moved his hips, trying to relieve the pressure in his groin. After the escapade on the balcony, he’d said he wanted you to rest, but damn if keeping that in mind wasn’t hard right now. His hand snuck down and he rubbed himself through the pants he was wearing to bed.

You still were unaware, absorbed in your literature. He watched the rise and fall of your breasts with every gentle breath you took. They’d been swollen as of late. In the not-too-distant future, they’d be swollen with milk for his child. And perhaps (he was sure you’d allow it) a bit for him. His cock throbbed against his hand. He stifled a groan.

Nothing. Not a twitch from you. He bit his lip, debating with himself. Should he disturb you? Maybe it would be better to allow you to rest as he had said. He could always retreat to the washroom to relieve his pains. He’d certainly done so enough before he’d wed you. Many, many times.

He withdrew his hand. If he ignored it, maybe it’d go away. Of course, that means he’d also need to stop looking at you.

An amusing notion. Not happening.

He turned over and laid on his stomach. Oh Norns, that just made it worse. He returned to his back rapidly. You glance over, smirking.

“A bit restless there, are we?” You set down your book. “Or have you just decided to go camping?”

He furrowed his brow. You glanced pointedly downwards. Oh… a tent. You were clever. Another thing he loved about you. 

He cleared his throat. “Perhaps. Would you like to come along with me?” He gave you a devilish grin. You moved closer to him under the covers, turning onto your side to face him.

“Of course I would,” you purred as you reached downwards and touched Loki in the exact way that made him shudder every time with pleasure. 

Loki pushed back the sheets, exposing both of you. You nudged down his pants, moving to take him into your mouth (oh, how he loved watching your lips wrap around him) but he held up a hand and stopped you. He placed his hands on your hips, guiding you to straddle him, but facing backwards.

He drew you up towards him until your pelvis was hovering just above his face. The remnants of his earlier pleasures still clung to you, the sight of which made Loki’s length become impossibly harder. After having dreamt for so long of seeing his cum inside of you, the sight nearly made him orgasm right then and there. He pulled your hips down and licked a long stripe over your cunt, the tip of his tongue teasing your clit.

You shivered, biting your lip. Carefully, as not to dislodge Loki from his position betwixt your thighs, you leaned downwards. You placed a teasing kiss on the shining tip of his engorged length, watching as the muscles of his abdomen and thighs clenched and quivered. You ran your tongue over him, then slowly brought your mouth down around him. He groaned, the sound sending wondrous vibrations through you.

The ministrations of Loki’s tongue increased substantially as he pushed you towards your orgasm. His eyes were shut in bliss, hips bucking upwards to meet your hot, velvety mouth. He sucked at your clit, scraping it every now and then with his teeth, make you keen and moan around his cock. He raised one hand and slipped it between your thighs, fingers plunging into your folds as he continued working at you. You shook with pleasure, every nerve in your body singing as he brought you to an intense and wonderful high.

The moans you made while still dutifully sucking his cock pushed Loki over the edge. His cum shot out in thick ropes, down your throat and coating your tongue. You swallowed each drop he gave you, just as he lapped up every bit of you he could. You sat up after a moment, dismounting him and wiping your hand across your mouth to clean yourself of saliva and other fluids. Loki grinned at you with hooded, sleepy eyes.

He pulled you close to him, drawing the sheets back up to cover you both. The lights were extinguished, leaving the both of you wrapped in each other’s embraces as you fell asleep. Loki’s hand rested over your belly as if protecting the tiny life inside you that he already loved so dearly.

Loki insisted on watching the fitting. The old seamstress protested, but eventually relented with a laugh. “Well,” she chuckled, “I suppose you’ve already seen all of her anyway.” 

You were taken by surprise when Loki led you to the fitting room and revealed a wedding dress. Normally, there were no weddings in this sort of marriage. After the night preceding the Day of Choosing, all pairs were legally declared married. You hadn’t been expecting this sort of thing, but it made sense when you thought about it. After all, everyone would be eager to see the new royal couple, and what better way to display that than a wedding?

The dress was a gleaming gold, flecked with accents of green. As tradition, you would wear your husband’s (or in the usual case, husband-to-be’s) colors. The seamstress led you to the stand and removed the fitting gown, carefully arranging the new dress on you.

As she did so, she had you keep your eyes closed. You were as of yet unaware of what was going on, and quite perplexed as to why she was being secretive and why Loki was standing in the room. After several minutes of preening and primping, she stepped back and told you to open your eyes.

You gasped and immediately began crying. Loki rushed to your side as quickly as he could possibly move, wrapping his arms around you and stroking your hair. Your sobs were interlaced with laughter.

“W-what’s wrong, dearest? Are you unhappy?” he questioned frantically, trying to find out why there were tears streaming down your beautiful face.

You buried your face against his chest. “No!” you exclaimed. “It’s just so w-wonderful. I wasn’t expecting it.”

The seamstress patted Loki’s arm, grinning. “Don’t worry about her, my Prince. Poor girl’s hormones are runnin’ rampant in her system thanks t’ the little one.” Loki sighed with relief.

You clung to him a moment more before letting go and daring to look in the mirror once more. The dress wasn’t the only stunning thing, you were. It accentuated each part of your body in a way that made you look almost ethereal. This included your rounding belly. At the three month mark, you were feeling as though you must looked disgustingly bloated as opposed to pregnant, but now you could see this wasn’t the case.

Loki smiled in awe as he watched you. You were like a goddess, fertile and full of life. You were positively glowing. Tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

Within a week, the wedding plans were in full swing. Decisions had to be made, food had to be tasted, arrangements had to be, well, arranged. Life was rather hectic, which meant you and Loki didn’t get to spend much time together, or at least time alone.

You could tell by the clench of Loki’s jaw as he sampled a possible dish for the feast that he was frustrated. He sat down the fork, nodding. “That will be fine.” He tried to sound cooperative, but there was an edge to his tone. You hoped the cooks didn’t notice and take it the wrong way. He wasn’t mad, just a bit tense.

You rested your hand on his, caressing it gently with your fingers. “It will be alright,” you said softly once the servants were out of sight. “What’s wrong?”

He smiled at you gently. “Nothing, dear dove, just missing your company.” You raised your eyebrow.

“Loki, I’m right here,” you said. Mischief sparked in his eyes. You knew that look. “Oh… well then,” you laughed.

He leaned over, burying his face against your jaw and neck, inhaling deeply before nipping. It didn’t hurt, more of a tickling sensation. You laughed and tried to shove at his shoulders. “Get off me, off I say!”

He paused for a moment then shook his head. “No, I do not believe I will.” He went back to his work, tugging at your ear with his teeth. You could feel his grin against your skin. Your face heated.

“Loki, you fiend, someone will see us,” you scolded, continuing trying to weasel away from him. He wrapped his arms around you, pressing your firmly against him. 

His lips found your pulse-point below your jaw, masterfully teasing and tweaking the flesh. You growled under your breath. “Loki, not now,” you whispered harshly. You could hear footsteps nearing.

Just as the cook was about to enter with another dish, Loki pulled away, spinning you around so you both were facing the door. He was grinning. You rolled your eyes. Fiend.

It seemed like the whole kingdom arrived for the wedding. There were hordes of people. After all, it wasn’t everyday that a prince was wedded (even though this was just for show).

The most important guest to you was your father. He stood in the front row, watching with tears in his eyes as the ceremony took place. You’d never seen him cry except for the night your mother died during childbirth. Your newborn sister had died a long with her.

And yet there he was, in tears, at your wedding nonetheless. As soon as it was done, you ran to him, wrapping your arms around him, struggling to hold back your own tears. You had not seen him in over three months. Loki joined you, shaking your father’s hand.

“It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, sir,” he said, voice like dark satin. Your father beamed at him.

“The pleasure is mine, my Prince.” His voice was trembling and he looked back at you, pulling you into a hug once more. “Oh, my beautiful daughter. I am so proud of you.” He pulled back, wiping the tears away from your eyes. The smile plastered across his face was incredible; you’d never seen him smile so.

“And your mother would be proud to,” he said, voice thick with emotion. He grinned and rested his hand briefly on your abdomen. “She’d also be quite ecstatic about this little one,” he laughed before pulling his hand away.

Loki tapped your shoulder. “I believe dinner is about to begin. It would be odd for us to miss our own wedding feast.”

The dinner was just as grand as the ceremony had been. Your father sat in front of you. He was quite impressed by the food, especially the baked goods. Though he was a baker, there were some things he didn’t indulge in often, including his own breads and pastries. The ones of the palace were made of the finest ingredients and he insisted he try each one.

He was on his third slice of dark bread when he turned towards you to talk. “So,” he asked, swallowing a mouthful, “Have the two of you discussed any names for the wee one?” 

Loki grinned. “Well, we haven’t settled on anything should it be a girl, but in the case it is a boy, we both think Eluf would be a fitting name.”

Your father nearly choked on his mead. He looked at you with a comically questioning expression. He knew that name well.

“Well, um, you see-“ you stuttered. You weren’t sure how to handle this and practically froze up on the spot. Thankfully, Loki took over once more.

“The young boy that befriended your daughter all those years ago was actually, well, me,” he explained. Your father’s expression grew increasingly flabbergasted. “You see, I wanted to explore the kingdom without any escorts and your daughter,” he paused, blushing and glancing at you with a lopsided smile, “She captivated me, sir.”

Your father stammered. He had yelled at a prince, told a prince he was never to see his daughter again. “Oh, I, ahem-”

Loki grinned at him. “Do not fret sir, it was for the best. If I had revealed who I was, we would not be here today,” he explained. Your father swallowed thickly and nodded.

“A-alright then,” he said, “well, I suppose that was for the best then.”

You collapsed onto the bed with a long exhale, arm flung over your eyes dramatically. “I am thoroughly beat,” you said, groaning. Loki flopped down next to you.

“Utterly exhausting, I agree.” His hair was disheveled as you felt. You snorted.

“At least you aren’t carrying a child that is rapidly growing heavier by the day,” you half argued, half teased. He turned onto his side and placed his hand on your belly.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “And you’re amazing for it.” He placed a kiss on your cheek, pressing his forehead to you. “I promise the next few days will be nothing but restful.”

“Somehow I think you’ll be going back on your word, Odinson.” You nudged his pelvis with your hip. “You haven’t been able to keep your hands to yourself since I got here, and after going so long during the wedding preparations without any affection, I daresay you may wither away.”

He chuckled. “Well, you may have a point there. I’ll at least let you have tonight to rest then.” His hand stroked your belly.

“Now I didn’t say I wanted that,” you said, grinning. “Perhaps if you’d be so kind to help me to the bath, I might find the energy in me to keep you from withering.”

Loki stood with a groan. “How can I resist an offer like that.” He scooped you up in his arms easily, as though you weighed no more than a feather. You curled up against his chest, head resting in the crook of his shoulder as he carried you to the washroom.

He placed you gently on your feet, nudging the door closed so that any servants who might come in for nightly tasks would not interrupt. His hands found the lacing at the back of your wedding gown, undoing them swiftly in a manner that harkened to your formal wedding night. He placed kisses along your shoulders, his lips warm and inviting against your skin.

With skilled hands, he worked your dress away from your body, and you almost wondered if he’d practiced with the dress when it was still being made. There were an awful lot of complicated fastenings, but he blew past them with ease, your dress quickly pooling on the floor around your feet. With a twirl, he picked you up once more and lifted you over the folds of green and gold, setting you down outside of the cloth.

He began to discard his armor, peeling away each piece in a teasing manner. Your hands found his chest as you assisted him in undressing, and soon he was as bare as you. With a smirk, he scooped you up, nipping at your neck. He walked towards the bath, stepping carefully as he lowered the two of you in.

He sat down on the ridge in the water that formed a sort of bench around the perimeter of the bath, situating you in his lap. You leaned against him languidly, letting the warm water wash away the aches and pains of the long day.

Loki snagged the bottle of soap that you usually used, pouring some into his palm and lathering it into your hair. His fingers were graceful as always, gentle as they massaged your scalp. They made their way down your neck and over your shoulders, squeezing and kneading your tense muscles into submission.

Carefully, he leaned you back until your hair was in the water, rinsing you free of the suds. He smiled at you, his eyes filled with adoration. You sat up, turning so you straddled his thighs. Ignoring the look of arousal that crossed his features, you began to wash him just as he had you.

His hair was like silk as you combed through. His eyelids drooped shut as his head leaned forward until his forehead rested against your chest. Despite the way it looked, there was nothing sexual in the act, just pure affection and trust. Your hands massaged his neck and shoulders, mirroring his motions from before. He whimpered as you kneaded and pressed, loving how gentle you were with him. Your touch was something he’d longed for for so long, something that made his heart sing with joy.

Not just his heart, it would seem. You could feel his increasing arousal against the apex of your thighs. You rubbed slowly against him as you caressed his shoulders. He shuddered and whimpered against you, arms wrapping around your torso to pull you closer to him. He raised his head and looked at you, eyes tired but so loving it almost made you cry.

How could you ever be mad at him for what he had done? He had done it out of love.

You raised handfuls of water and rinsed his hair, not eager to get soap in your mouth whilst you kissed him. As soon as it was done, you leaned forwards and met his lips with your own, dancing with a tenderness that was unparalleled. He tilted his head, tongue flickering over your lips before plunging in, exploring your mouth. It was unlike his normal, hungry and fierce kisses. This was slow and passionate, revealing every single ounce of desire he had for you in a manner that showed his complete adoration for you.

You spread your thighs so that his cock was pressed to your folds. You wondered if he could feel how aroused you were despite the water that the two of you sat in. He rolled his hips, rubbing your labia and clit slowly and deliberately. You shivered, grinding down upon him in turn. His hands found your hips and he pulled you closer, chest to chest.

His need was becoming too much to bare. “Darling, I-”

You hushed him, raising your hips and sinking down. “I know,” you murmured against his mouth before locking him in another kiss as he sheathed himself fully within you.

His hand kneaded your hips. You didn’t bother with raising yourself off and back down, instead moving your hips in slow, sensual circles that pushed him into you tightly and rubbed your clit on his pubis. Your eyes were shut in bliss as you felt your nerves winding tighter and tighter.

Your chest was heaving. Loki pulled away and rested his forehead against yours, panting and looking directly into your eyes as he groaned wantonly. His pupils were dilated, blown wide with his need for you. You could see him drawing nearer to release just as you were. Tingling and whimpering, you bucked your hips. Loki’s eyes closed tightly, his eyebrows knitting together as he threw his head back, crying out as he released within you for the first time in several days, what felt like an eternity to him. The expression on his face was enough to push you over, back arching as you reveled in the feeling of his hot cum bursting inside of you.

Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly as you came down from your orgasm, once more leaning your forehead to his. Both of you were panting in earnest. You slowly released your grip on his shoulders, hands sliding down his arms, fingers trailing over the muscles. He was smiling lopsidedly at you, eyes half-lidded.

“As much as I want to continue,” he said, his tiredness apparent in his voice, “I believe we both need rest. Especially you, my love.” His hand pressed against your belly. “My life.” Taglist: @jessiejunebug  @knuffeltuff@sea040561@alexakeyloveloki@villanellevi@skinny-macncheese@shockwavee@footballiskillingme​ @the-surviving-revolutionist​ @1-800-ahh-crap​

[justformyself2]

Notting Hill.

A/N: Wow, who also need a good story to be pumped for the apocalypse? raise your hand please!

Not really sure if you guys know about this story, but June 27,2020 is the date, look it up lol. You know what else we could be doing before going to hell once for all for lusting so much over John Krasinski? 

Sign this Petitions and donate if possible:

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BLACK LIVES MATTER NOW AND ALWAYS.

Well, now that i said what i said, let me finish by telling you, this is an important story for me. The past months have been extremely rough and i struggled like never before to fight for something i love to do not be consumed by dark thoughts, regardless of the past, i’m proud to be posting this right now, no matter how long it took for me and how minimal it may seem, goddamn i feel happy to create and write, and for you guys, in whatever you need to do, dream of doing, don’t let dark thoughts guide you into staying stuck, shine, do what you love, we all have the capacity.

This is my participation on my friend’s @lullabieswrappedinlies​​ rom-com writing challenge (go check her out, she is so damn creative and amazing)

This story is based on the movie Notting Hill and will be added on my masterlist. or tell me you want to be tagged if you want to keep up.

BEFORE YOU JUMP IN BE ADVISED

. Pairing: Reader x John Krasinski.

. It contains strong language.

. Click here for soundtrack of movie if you are in your feelings today

                                                   JOHN’S POV

“John, we will be ready in five.”

“Ok.”

I press the phone once again against my ear, listening to her heavy sigh. It is easy to mold her face into my brain with dexterity. The bushy eyebrows, casting a shadow under piercing blue eyes, seeking to grab my soul, she succeeding to combine it all with a condescending smile on her lips. Condescension which I have to kiss it off.

“Well, if you want to go, then go.”

Deep down, she was still trying, and I can’t take that for granted.

“I don’t want to go. I need to go, an enormous difference. It’s work.”

I aim to be the diplomatic debater, the mediator, and the opponent. She is better than me at being the third party, perfecting the act of passive-aggressiveness in chosen phrases, fuming through her nose on the other side of the line. An act I wish to interpret as a genuine breathed laugh with no second intentions; my five minutes seemed to multiply.

“Call you later?”

I say.

“Yes.”

She answers

“Love you.”

She hanged up.

                                                            --------

                                                      Y/N POV

“This book is so weird and sexist, holy shit.”

You put the phone down, and Nova throws another eighties romance book into the cardboard box with its copies.

“Language.” You sing at her in a scolding tone. 

“Sorry.” She sings back. “But you know I’m right. They are always pairing a young girl with some fifty years old, control freak who prey on them with their big, strong, tan hands.”

You giggle, and she looks satisfied.

Regardless of the narrative that anyone could quickly review, it was ‘in’ right now, as Agnes said, and what her bookclub wanted. “Un plaisir coupable.” she completed; the thin red lines that were her lips stretched in a laugh, causing her blue contacts to squint. 

Soon enough, the scavenging for the material began, and you found the yellow pages, delivered with weird smells, phone numbers, and addresses written on the inside of the covers, but still readable.

“They paid and are coming to pick them up tomorrow. It’s the only thing I care about right now. Also, don’t let her catch you saying that you hear me? I will help finish this then we can close before your mom shows up and kill me when she finds out you are here.”

You move from behind the counter, seeing the digital hour hit past ten pm on the laptop.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, she already knows.”

The unconcerned Nova grabs a box, and you grab another following her quick steps, twisting to the right almost at the end of the hall, entering a room that was once a decent private office before it became nonfunctional. 

The reserved bookshelf for Agnes club waited empty, a last-minute metal book rack next to the bay window. To create an illusion of a comfortable place for a book club, orange curvy chairs, which Alexis begged to be thrown out, along with the red Arabic carpet left behind with the chairs by the old owner. Every time you enter the space taking a deep, immediate, frustrated breath, Alexis wins a point.

You place the box down, looking at your niece.

“Kyle?”

You ask, and Nova hums softly, doing the stocking job.

 Kyle, more than a name it was first a banned topic usually discussed between a limited couple of sentences. His name was a warning, along with his unrequested presence at random, unannounced times. It became harder since Nova wasn’t at a manageable age anymore. It was tough at fifteen, and as the time passes by, sweetness gains the bitterness, and innocence, gone.

“Well, you know you will always have a second bed, Donkey misses you.”

You gain a laugh while she finishes her box.

“Oh God, can’t believe you still keep him there.”

You shrug impulsively, paying attention to your own hands, arranging the books and their horizontal titles on a pile.

“It was your favorite toy, why would I throw it away?”

“You know why.”

 A pause and a deep breath came from her, triggering the thought, long forgotten about, that people still expected you to be mourning over material remains.

“It’s okay to throw away with the rest of the others, it’s been a long time.”

Her auburn hair was now being tied in a bun. Your fifteen-year-old niece, holding a peaceful outside appearance, didn’t mind sounding more mature than you wanted to admit.

 “Good... then we can donate, not throw it away.”

“Even better.”

She agrees quickly, stomping on the empty cardboard box.

Nova turns out the lights as you awaited for her, leaning against the glass door on the entrance, blowing hot humid air into your cold fingers and watching over nothing other than a middle-aged man with a red beanie walking a Greyhound on the other side of the empty street. 

Notting Hill wasn’t known for its nightlife. It was almost a deserted city by eight and in the light of day, Portobelo Rode fruit market brings it to life. On weekdays, stalls and its hay baskets, packed with succulent fruits and greens, filled the streets along with shouted invites, half prices and sweet-soured smells invading each corner; on weekends the baskets shape-shifted to antiques of all kinds, genuine or handmaid, the crowd and the stalls multiplied in the small village. 

In-between buyers and sellers of what you could harvest or find in your gramma’s basement there was your store, a bookstore, one corner away from your home, squeezed in the middle of Linda’s cafe and a self-employed yoga instructor that recently rented Mr. Walsh’s house, a retired Navy who moved to Greenwich with his daughter-in-law three weeks ago; his red door house now held a big white plaque with ‘Sivananda Yoga’ written in cursive gold letters, phone number and social media included under the picture of a woman in the lotus posture.

“A yoga studio, nice!” Says Nova, coming closer to the four steps leading up to the red door.

You close the store and covers her shoulders with your arm when the icy wind started building up.

“We could try it someday, your mom-.”

“Hates trying new things.” She completed. “Don’t even bother.”

 “That is where you are the wrong baby. It may seem like this now, but I wish you could have seen your mom in her prior days. Wow... She was glorious.”

The feeling of wandering eyes aiming at your face became stronger as you carried her along the street under your embrace.

“Before my dad, I guess.”

A tiny part of your soul lighten up, recognizing itself in your niece’s words, but there was no place to fuel her fiery tone.                                                                                           

“To be honest, I don’t know, but people change Nova, everyone eventually, even the ones we thought we had figured out, including ourselves.”

“Whatever, I don’t want him back in the house again if she puts him back, I’m moving with you.”

The decisiveness in her voice sent bad vibrations along your back. 

Unusual memory mechanism. Alexis visited your mind, vivid as if you could see her across the street you were crossing, she waiting and shivering at your front door because you forgot the spare key in the store again. 

After the scolding she would show a rose-colored box from Fincher’s cafe under her arm, comporting the most amazing banoffee pie, your favorite pie from your favorite place. 

Fincher’s cafe, that was once located two blocks away from where you two lived was closed when the old owner went bankrupt and reopened in Queensway street, she would drive there every weekend to bring that rose-colored box under her arm and wait for you on the couch, once the spare key was in the fake birdhouse, with the TV turned on and the plates placed on the center table next to the wine.

“See, I don’t think that will happen.”

“How could you know? Didn’t you just said people change?”

“And love changes people, your mother has more for you than you could ever imagine and without measuring efforts. She wouldn’t make any decision that would hurt you, trust me.”

Nova quickly disengage from the conversation, staying on mute abruptly, leaving a temporary gap for thoughts of doubt to occupy. Your heart is worried, but a grown-up, worried heart shouldn’t be shown while trying to pass a sense of security. That included waiting for Nova to fall sleep before calling Alexis.

You climb the four steps and opens the blue door, face to face with smiling Rudolph from last Christmas, hanging by a thread along with Santa, waiting to be taken down as the feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“I ate at home so if you don’t mind I will go to bed now.”

Unreeling the red knitted scarf, the tenth big piece Alexis attempted to make at her knitting fase, Nova doesn’t look behind once. You watch her back as she went upstairs to the guest room, her special fort at five, and now her hideaway at fifteen, with fewer toys and Donkey, an old stuffed toy still sitting in the shelf waiting for no one in a room cleaned every week.

You dismiss the purple scarf from around your shoulders, the third big piece on your sister’s collection, not as good as the tenth, but it warmed you inside to observe her trying to hide a proud smile in seeing what she made wrapped around Nova and you.

A stupidly cold breeze hits the back of your neck before you turned around to close the door, the phone rings along with squealing tires of a black car on the other side of the street.

                                                           1

[bugaboowritings]

Manon And Her Babysitter (A Masc!Marinette Fic)

Manon being a Mood for 2393 words straight.

I have like 30 wip’s (not all Masc! Mari fics, I’m working on a new au and maybe even in a zine-fingers crossed) and school is starting for me so heads up if I don’t post much. Or post less than I did before. Writing is a stress reliever for me so you may notice a pattern when I post. 

This Masc! Mari (aka Marin Dupain Cheng) AU based off the lovely @daloochsdoodles and their art. Please check them out. 

Marin didn’t think that a girl with eyes the size of dinner plates would take such a liking to him. Asking him about his day or take her to parks when she visited.

Manon didn’t think that a headstrong teen would have so much patience with her. Even at her worst and crankiest moments in the day.  ——

Alya once told Marin that he intimated her when she first entered the school gates on her first day. His height and dark clothes just added to the anxiousness of the new school, new town, new people growing in her stomach. Alya felt smaller than the head on the tiniest pin needle or a mouse in a garden of starving foxes. Of course, Alya would never let anyone push her around but ideas like that just bubbled over in her mind. Yet the growing worry disappeared the moment Marin looked at her -and flashed a sunny smile.

However, to be fair, Alya later confessed that Marin could never be scary even if he tried. His warm aura, his soft pastel Jagged Stone sweatshirt, with his charming features was the total package of a fluffy boyfriend that anybody, whether their sexuality, would want to wrap their arms around. He’s a soft man. Even with his tall and strong build.

So at this instant, in his family’s living room, he didn’t know if his face looked like the soft friend Alya knew and loved or the intimating teenager that could cut diamond with a stare. His question was answered when the girl that hid behind her mother’s legs gave him a toothy smile. As toothy as she could make it with two of her front teeth missing.

Marin gave a gentle smile back, waving to her before he went back to his tablet. Annotating an article about the American Revolution for history class. Saving the key details in his head to use in the upcoming class debate while relating it back to the French Revolution. Clicking the screen with his stylus some more before his mom called him over.

“Honey, I want you to meet my friend, Nadja.” Sabine introduced, motioning him to show his good manners. Marin reluctantly slips out of his comfy position on the couch. Shaking Nadja’s hand while his mother continued.

“She used to come to the house all the time when you were little! It’s been years since I could remember you guys standing in the same room.”

“Your mother talks a lot about you-”

“Marin, but some people call me Mari.”

“AND I’M MANON CHAMACK!” The little girl yelled excitedly. Sniggering to herself when she got Marin’s attention. Proudly standing in front of her mother while her body rocked back and forth on the balls of her heels. Marin couldn’t help but share her infectious smile. Reminiscing when he was around Manon’s age. How he would try to get noticed by the older kids at school or in family reunions. Making himself seem like the coolest kid ever or just hovering over big kids before they bothered to include him in their games.

Nadja and Sabine smiled at each other, fighting the urge to laugh at Manon’s sudden introduction. Sabine quickly invited them in and out of the doorway. Nadja instinctively followed Sabine when her eyes lingered on her daughter. Praying that she wouldn’t cause too much of a ruckus for Marin.

Marin squatted down to meet Manon’s height.

“So what brings you here, Manon? Have any plans for the day?” He asked. Letting this kid be a healthy distraction from his report.

Manon swang her body side to side, taking in a breath before rambling. “Mom says that she plans to take me to the park if I’m SUPER good when she’s here with your mommy! Maybe even get a cookie from the bakery too!” Skipping her way in and passing Marin. Jumping a little higher as the thought of having a baked good made Manon’s mouth water.

“MAYBE I should even get a brownie! With sprinkles! Or maybe just a WHOLE cake with blue frosting!” Giggling to herself some more before her loud voice went over the list of treats she likes.

“Aren’t you rambunctious,” Marin sighed. Following Manon into the house (while she asked what rambunctious meant) before shutting the front door closed.

—-

“I have a friend with your name. At least it sounds like it.” Manon explained between her bites on her brownie. Still warm from his mother’s kitchen with hints of pinks and blues from the sprinkles Manon added. Crunching them under her tongue. Unintentionally making her mouth a light shade of purple.

“Yeah,” Marin answered. Holding Manon’s hand as he held the other with the animal balloon that he bought (*cough* with no influence from the baby doll eyes *cough*). “What’s their name?” He asked. Looking back and forth for any cars as they crossed the street.

“Maribelle. She’s pretty cool and foreign. Gave me half of her cookie so we’re friends now.” Manon nonchalantly said. Unaware that her friendship was bought, but from the looks of it, she didn’t mind too much about it. “Now that I think about it, Mari sounds like a girl name. Right?” The little girl said innocently.

“Yeah, it was in a way,” Marin replied easily, checking for incoming traffic until they reached the sidewalk. “But things change.” Giving Manon a smile which she returned after wiping the chocolate off the edges of her lips.

“You wanna go on the swings?”

“Last one there is a rotten egg!” Manon snickered. Running as fast as her legs could take her to the empty swing set. Leaving Marin in her dust.

——–

“PLEASSSEEE MARI!” Manon cried. Collapsing onto the ground and kicking her feet in the air. All as Marin stood firm on his promise with Nadja.

Don’t let her eat sweets after 7 pm.

“No.”

Earning him another anger huff from the little girl.

Nadja was off handling another story that needed to be scripted and filmed on the same day. Extremely unrealistic for someone to do, but Nadja was up for the challenge if it meant that she could have a full week off with her daughter. The exhausted, workaholic mother promised Marin that she would be back before 11 pm. However, he pushed back his tutoring session from tomorrow morning to tomorrow in the afternoon just in case she came in later than that.

Till Nadja arrived, Marin was ready to handle a cranky six-year-old for the next three+ hours.

Manon, now a cranky and sleepy six-year-old, stopped tossing and turning on the ground. Stretching out her arms and legs like a starfish in defeat. Closing her eyes and slowly opening them again.

“Tired?” Marin asked, placing his hands on his hips.

Manon nodded, lifting herself off the ground. “Can I have Unicorn Puffs for a snack now?”

“I’ll make you a fruit bowl with fresh strawberries and melon.” Marin reasoned. Recalling that Unicorn Puff Cereal was also a “no” in Nadja’s list.

“I can put that one chocolate drizzle you like on them though.” He sighed, lowering himself to Manon’s level.

The little girl shot up from the floor, her twin-tails bouncing with her quick nod. Gaining back her energy and beaming her toothy smile. Now complete thanks to her new front teeth.

“Deal.”

——–

“Look, Marin! It’s that one person from your magazines!” Manon wooed. Amazed that the model’s hair was as shiny in real life like it was in the glossy pages of Vogue. Wanting to feel it as she stepped towards them before getting pulled back.

“Oh my gosh, Manon! Look the merry-go-around is empty. You should totally go there!” Marin hissed, ignoring his friend/unicorn’s laughs. Pushing Manon towards the carousel. Away from the shiny person taking pictures from the fountain.

////

Manon choked on the sobs that threaten to come up her mouth. Her face felt hot like the time she threw up all the sugary goods that turned bitter in her stomach. However, this type of sick didn’t make Manon’s belly flip in pain, but her tiny heart beat faster and her palms lost their grip on Alya’s hand. She wanted her mommy to smoothen her nerves or Marin to pull her in one for his hugs. Wishing she could smell the fabric softer his mother buys on his sweater or hear her mom tell her that it would be okay in the end.

-But no matter how much Alya distracted her, Manon could only watch the ice around her grow thicker and thicker. Looking towards the outside was harder as the ice grew mistier. The firefighters outside tried to explain how they would get them out as if to calm them down but Manon couldn’t hear them and the ice made them look all distorted and ‘wriggly’.

“Lady Beetle and Chat Noir will save us. Right?”

Manon remembering back to the dolls Marin sewed of the heroes. How they sat on his shelves with a smile. Wondering if they would look that friendly when they pull people out of danger. Or if they really win every time when an Akuma comes and hurts Paris.

“Of course! They’re superheroes."Alya smiled. Pulling her face towards her. Grinning like everything was okay, even when it felt like it wasn’t. Rubbing circles on her back to keep her warm.

"They always save the day. We just have to trust them.”

////

Lady Beetle jumped from building to building before landing on the ice dome that shielded the merry-go-round from the summer heat. Showing no usual signs of melting.  Making him less surprised when he felt the toughness and chill of the temperature drop from the ice through his suit.

Lady Beetle doubted it would make a dent, but he still whipped his yo-yo around the ice capsule. In an attempt to crack it or even split the whole thing. The yo-yo didn’t do much like the firefighter’s axes. Huffing in frustration before seeing a little girl clapped her hands against the ice.

“Manon-”

“LADY BEETLE!” She cried out. Getting the woman behind her to do the same.

“Alya,” Lady Beetle whispered. Rushing over to them.

“LADY BEETLE!” Manon yelled again, softer than the last as LB got her level. He resisted the urge to tell Manon everything. That he’s sorry for leaving her for even a moment when he promised her to protect her. Sorry about ignoring her the whole day and pushing her aside for one of his complex plans on getting a date. Sorry for not stopping Stormy Weather from trapping them in a chilly container. Even apologizing that he didn’t buy the ice cream she wanted.

However, then would blow his identity.

Lady Beetle rolled his words in his mouth, having to settle for the “You will be okay, I’ll get you out” line. Swallowing his uncertainty as he heard Stormy Weather crackled her umbrella to form a hurricane in Chat Noir’s direction. Who tried their best to push Stormy away from the citizens.

Lady Beetle looped his yo-yo in his fingers. Ready to throw it before Manon called out to him.

“I trust you.”  

—

Marin hurried before the reporters could mog him for an interview or bumble questions about the Akuma attack today.  Chat Noir left before their miraculous give out and Marin just needs to see if Manon and Alya were okay. The Miraculous cure would have healed them if anything happened yet that didn’t make Marin feel any better though when he reached the park and they weren’t there.

“MANON! ALYA!”

He called, running around for a bit. Knocking into someone, promptly saying sorry before spinning his head around to find his friends. His lungs drew sharps breaths the more he ran. Stopping when he heard a small shout calling his name.

“MARI!”

“Manon! Alya!”

Rushing into Manon’s hug. Glad to see her again and even better to feel that being trapped in a chilly ice dome for an hour didn’t give her a fever.   Manon’s little hands pulled on Marin’s face, making him face her big, goofy grin. Alya behind her having the same one plastered on her face, only to punch Marin’s arm and scold him for scaring them shitless when he disappeared when the Akuma nearly froze all of Paris.

“YOU WILL NEVER BELIEVE WHO WE SAW TODAY!”

“Wh-”

“LADY BEETLE!” Manon screamed. Almost making Marin drop her from the shock of her roar. From there Manon continued to gush about the red hero. How they tried to get them out and then promised to beat the Akuma to save them.  How high they could jump, making it seem that they could fly over buildings. How Chat Noir and Lady Beetle worked together to save the day. Plus how cool Chat Noir looked when saying “Cataclysm”.  How the magic ladybugs fixed everything for good and how-

“I’m just glad you’re okay, Manon.” Marin sighed. Chuckling as Manon tried to mimicking Lady Beetle calling on their Lucky Charm.  Alya stole Marin’s attention while she happily flipped through the photos of the Akuma to post on the Ladyblog. Mentioning how some filters were needed to make the picture clearer. Even catching a video of the magical ladybug effortlessly fixing buildings and basically 'curing’ all the victims that got swept up in Stormy Weather’s scheme.

Marin was just relieved that everyone was fine and well as people gawked at the aftermath of Lady Beetle’s damage-control or how the girl with the once cursed umbrella now happily smiles on TV announcing that the weather channel will now have two hosts.

——— All as a certain black cat sprang down to an alley. Dropping the magical transformation and swiftly returning to their life. Slipping their way back into the park where a restless and provocative photographer sat and a large gorilla- uh, I mean bodyguard searched for him. Leaving the small piece of freedom they have behind to return to their civilian life. Not before knocking into someone that looked too familiar to just be a stranger.

[plague-of-insomnia]

So Andre suggested I post my serial original fiction, In/Exhale, on AO3.

The thing is, I wrote season 1 in like 2012, and it was the first time I had tried to write the story for a public audience... so I would have a huge urge to re-write/Re-edit it (again)... but I honestly don’t really have the time/energy for that.

Would anyone be interested in reading it via AO3?

(In its current state. You can read it via free downloadable ebook on my site right now.)

It’s on on-going series, with three complete seasons so far, probably like 300-500K words.

I know several of you expressed interest in reading some of my original work. When I asked that question I wasn’t thinking of I/E, but it is a story very close to my heart.

Here is some info about the story from my website:

Here’s a tiny excerpt from the first episode (abridged):

Kai tried to bite back the wave of regret that swept over him. Sure, he’d lost a few years, but that was behind him. He had a future now, one he hadn’t thought would be possible, and he needed to focus on that. He’d put the past firmly behind him, and focus on the now, on the possibilities ahead of him instead. And none of these people had to know any of it, if he could help it.

It only took a few minutes to reach the third floor, and Kai shuffled out behind a couple of cute girls. He wondered if he could ever bring himself to get close to someone again. Not just in bed--he had Nikki for that, and what they had was incredible--in fact, he planned on seeing her tonight after his classes. But growing up as an orphan in a home, he'd always dreamed of having a family someday. A wife whom he loved, and who loved him, some kids. Most of his life that had been as big a fantasy as flying, but then he'd met Becca. Becca, who he'd thought could maybe be the one, who would stick with him despite everything.

Kai felt his hands balling into fists as he wandered down the hall for his first class. New start, new start, he thought, fighting his fingers' instinct to sign the words as he finally found room 312, shuffling in behind a few other students.

Room 312 was one of the large auditorium-style lecture halls on campus, with stadium seating leading up in tiered rows, divided into three sections by stairs. It was still early; class didn't start for at least another twenty minutes, so plenty of seats lay empty. Kai glanced at the front row, where there were gaps obviously intended for wheelchairs and sighed despite himself before turning his attention to the stairs and the far top back of the room. Troy had told him to push himself as far as he reasonably could, and although he had avoided stairs as a general rule for most of his life, he decided to give them a try.

Without his crutches or a handrail it was harder than it could have been, and halfway up Kai debated stopping. But he'd been trapped at the bottom of rooms like this so often in his life, and the thrill of his breath coming so easily even as his exhalations and inhalations grew quicker and shallower, encouraged him to keep going.

When he finally reached the top, he collapsed in the first available seat, staring down and reveling in his achievement. He knew it was silly, and it wasn't like he'd ever seen a mountain, but he realized this must be what it felt like to climb one and look down, admiring the view, knowing what you did to earn it. It wasn't the most practical seat for various reasons.

Kai was so lost in his own thoughts he hadn't realized a girl had sat down beside him. It was her aroma that got him first; one of the things Kai had enjoyed most since he'd been extubated post-transplant was getting his sense of smell back. She smelled delicate and floral; he couldn't quite place the exact scent, but it was subtle and lovely. A body spray, perhaps, instead of a perfume. Certainly not pungent enough to provoke an attack if this had been before.

When he turned his head, he realized she'd been staring at him, and for a moment, he grew nervous. Had his collar dipped or come undone and she could see his trache scar? He knew it was creepy looking, especially if you'd never seen anything like it before. Reflexively, he brought his fingers to his neck, and maybe she sensed she'd been staring, because she blinked, shook her head, and smiled.

"Sorry." She cleared her throat. "I'm Renee Poche," she said. Her voice was soft and sweet like her scent; clearly, she wasn't from the Midwest.

"Kai Fox," he replied, offering his hand, reluctantly dropping it from his throat.

She smiled. God, she had a beautiful smile. She was petite; it was hard to tell how tall now that they were sitting, but it was yet another indication that she wasn't from around here. Her hair was dark--almost black--and curly. Kai didn't know much about women, but it looked natural, her thick tendrils perfectly framing her face in a managed chaos he found entrancing despite the fact that Becca also had curly hair.

"That's an unusual name. You a freshman?" She asked as she pulled a notebook and pen out of her bag.

Kai flushed slightly, realizing how silly it was for his body to react this way. "Yeah." He couldn't manage to say more than that.

She flipped her desk out and laid her supplies on it, smiling the whole time. "I'm an architecture student, so my program's five years. I'm a second-year right now. But I put off most of my core classes last year, so here I am."

Kai grinned despite himself. He wanted to touch her curls, feel their softness on his skin, never stop smelling her unique floral scent. His stomach churned and he knew immediately he wanted to know more about her--everything. Suddenly, his chest grew tight, and his face paled. No. This hadn't happened since. . . . Reflexively, he dropped his hand to his right pocket, feeling the inhaler beneath his palm.

"You OK?" Her face was so concerned and sincere, and she'd reached for him, placing a warm, tiny hand on his arm.

He stared at it, forced himself to take a few slow breaths, realizing he was OK. They'd experimentally grafted the most important nerves, so he had more sensation than most transplant patients, but it was different than before, something he was still getting used to. The tightness could have been his imagination. How was it that this girl he hardly knew, whom he'd just met, could make him feel so off kilter? He eased his lips into a smile to reassure her and give backing to his words.

"Yeah. Sorry." He swallowed. "First day jitters, I guess," he added with a bit of a blush.

She laughed, a musical, lilting sound that made him grateful for his hearing. "So what classes are you taking this semester?"

Kai thought a moment. "World History I, English Comp, Intro to Philosophy, Intro to Psych."

The professor had arrived and was setting up for the lecture, writing "World History I, H101, MILLER" on the white board.

"Me too," she said. "I mean, I have those same classes. We should sit together in them, too."

Kai felt a warm flutter in his stomach. "I'd like that."

Renee looked as if she were about to say something else when the professor cleared his throat and began to speak. He was a short, chubby, bearded man, or perhaps his height was an illusion created by the distance, dressed almost stereotypically in khakis, simple button-up, and tartan sportscoat with brown patches on the elbows.

"Welcome, ladies and gentleman, to World History I. This course will fulfill your common curriculum requirement, but only if you study hard and pass my exams."

Kai knew he should be taking notes, but he'd nearly forgotten himself, so entranced by Renee, so he fumbled for his bag to grab a notebook and his own pen. It could have been his imagination, but she seemed to be casting glances at him every few minutes, smiling the entire time.

"Many people ask, 'why study history?'" Professor Miller leaned on his podium as if he were studying the class, taking everyone in one by one. With nearly three-hundred students in this section, there was no way he could know them all, and Kai knew he and Renee were just two in a sea of faces. "Of course, the easy answer is 'because then we're doomed to repeat it.' However, I think life is far more complicated than that."Professor Miller abandoned his podium and crossed so he was nearer to the first row of students, laying one arm across his stomach and balancing his opposite elbow in the palm of his hand, supporting his chin on his fist. "I believe that the past, however behind us it may seem, is never truly gone." Miller again searched the faces in the crowd, and for a split moment, despite being dozens of feet away, Kai felt as if their eyes met, and his pulse quickened, nervous, but not sure exactly why. He glanced over at Renee, partially so he didn’t have to look at the professor, and partially to simply steal a peek at her. She had her head bent over her paper, as if she were taking notes, but he could see from here her page was blank.

"The past is always a part of us, and as much as we may like to forget that, not only can't we, we mustn't." Professor Miller nodded his head, then turned his back on the audience.

Kai knew Miller wasn’t speaking to him, couldn’t be speaking to him, but why did his words feel so personal? And why couldn’t one forget the past? Kai had done it before, shifting dark memories into the deep recesses of his brain, never talked about, never thought about. Why should now be any different?

[racefortheironthrone]

Thoughts on House of X #4

Over the halfway mark!

Look At What They’ve Done Infographic:

Suprisingly for an issue that, in retrospect is the climax of the standard superheroics part of House of X, this issue starts with an infographic, which turns out to be one of the more controversial in HoX/PoX.

Foreshadowing what’s going to come at the end of the issue, the tone is already different from the pseudo-academic objectivity of earlier infographics, although the term “mutant erasure” evokes the activist-inspired, post-cultural turn work of critical race/gender/sexuality studies, which is something of a stepping-stone. 

By contrast, describing Wanda Maximoff as both “the pretender” (does this mean “not-really-a-mutant” or “not-really-Magneto’s-daughter” or both?) and as associated with the Avengers is incredibly politically pointed, which speak to a particular kind of mutant nationalist identity that bears a good deal of grievance towards even benevolent human institutions.

Similarly, the term “human-on-mutant violence” is way too evocative of real world debates over racism and police violence to be accidental on the author’s point. It’s a depressing thought, but the 616 probably sees a lot of “what about mutant-on-mutant violence?” derailings, maybe as many as creep up in threads about HoX/Pox here...

So let’s get at the controversy: can Bolivar Trask be blamed for the Genoshan genocide? Contrary to a few voices in the fandom, I would argue strongly for the affirmative. As we see from his initial appearance, Trask created the Sentinels entirely out of racial paranoia/hatred; moreover, Sentinels have no purpose other than A. destroying all mutants and B. subjugating the human race along the way. Cassandra Nova’s actions on Genosha absolutely followed the Trask playbook of both father and son, and indeed relied on Larry Trask’s assistance to carry it out, making it a Trask affair from beginning to end. 

On a final meta note, this infographic really speaks to the outsized impact that Morrison’s New X-Men and Bendis’ House of M had on the X-line for the last 15-20 years. 

Observation-Analysis-Invocation-Connection:

But before we get to the punching, we get one burst of Hickman’s fascination with singularities and transhumanism, where for the first time we really get an example of how the Krakoan biological approach is going to work, showing us a surprisingly complicated biomachine:

Trinity (who runs the Secondary/External Systems part of Krakoa) uses her technopathy to gather intelligence from human mechanical systems: the Aracibo Arecibo Observatory in Puerto Rico, “re-tasked SETI radio telescopes," both of which are real things, and the “Dyson solar observatory,” which isn’t. 

Beast (who runs the Overwatch/Data Analysis part of Krakoa) uses Krakoan biocomputers and his own scientific genius to “extrapolate that data into an actionable forecast,” to deal with the delay caused by the immense distances between Krakoa and Sol’s Forge.

Professor X and Cerebro handle the direct Connection between Krakoa and the away team, while the Cuckoos link Trinity, Beast, Storm into a psychic link with Xavier, which means all of the parts of the system work seamlessly even as Storm handles the Invocation of visually representing Jean Grey’s thoughts.

If you step back and think about it, this is an astonishing technological feat: with minimal reliance on machine technology, Krakoa has established a NASA “KASA Mission Control” that can send data across half a solar system almost(?) instantly. 

That’s before we even get to the whole secondary purpose of the system, which is to allow Professor X and the Five to resurrect an up-to-date version of anyone who dies on the mission, which is one hell of a life-rope. 

Thematically, we see a really sharp distinction between biological and mechanical transhumanism/singularity: “KASA Mission Control” is described in biological terms, “function[ing] as a singular organism,” and also in religious terms, with “eight of us acting as one” explicitly labelled as “Communion.” And yet...the eight people involved retain their separate personalities and identities and no separate, artificial intelligence is created. 

Should We Fear the Worst?

 And across five hundred million miles, all Krakoa gets is bad news. Archangel and Husk, the redshirt’s redshirts on this mission, are dead before they do anything; Nightcrawler has some level of “internal injury,” and Wolverine almost had his arm blown off.

Incidentally, page 7 is where something of a problem crops up with Jean Grey’s characterization. As people have noted, Jean Grey starts off in the passive communications role (indeed, she’s even reliant on Monet to do that job) and doesn’t really improve from there. With the added context of her wearing her Silver Age miniskirt costume, it’s all a bit sus, especially if you’ve been reading a much more self-possessed, confident, and all-around more powerful version of Jean Grey in X-Men: Red. For a while, many of us were thinking that Jean is a younger backup, but that seems to have been Jossed by the resurrection ceremony in House of X #5. 

Better characterization abounds for the men: following their conversation from the previous issue, Cyclops and Wolverine have different perspectives about the question of whether to continue on with the mission (another key element of the special ops/espionage thriller genre). Cyclops emphasizes pushing on to make Warren and Paige’s sacrifice meaningful, Logan agrees but rather because of the existential stakes of the mission. There’s an interesting parallel there between Xavier and Magneto and means vs. ends. 

Following the catastrophe, Nightcrawler successfully inserts the struje team, while “Jean and Monet will stay to maintain our connection with Krakoa;”we know know that part was crucial in more than one way, but it is a continuation of some troubling gender dynamics.

Meanwhile, despite being “technically...just an observer” (and doesn’t that ring of all kinds of Cold War proxy wars), Omega Sentinel takes action to prompt Dr. Gregor into retaliation, similarly playing to the nationalistic theme of “if you don’t, he will have died for nothing.” 

Orchis’ retaliation doesn’t go so well, as we see Wolverine carving his way through an AIM securtiy team and Nightcrawler bloodlessly tying up two scientists (note the further emphasis on differing personalities and values; whoever these X-Men might be, they’re not mindless followers) towards popping two of the four constraint collars.

Unfortunately, this is followed up by a couple pages of more Jean Grey being awfully Damselly: yes, she’s holding open the connection, but she’s coded as way more helpless and indecisive than Monet (who gets to go out like a badass defending the shuttle), and the line “I dunno what to say, Marvel Girl. Try harder” really sums it all up. So far, this is reading a lot more like Stan Lee’s Jean Grey (but not Jack Kirby’s) than Chris Claremont’s. 

With the tension ratcheting ever-higher, we see Cyclops succeeding at his mission, while Mystique...doesn’t and then gets promptly blown out an airlock. The “habitat” connection and the odd business with her getting “turned around” despite having the plans for the base in her head like everyone else is highly suspicious (it might suggest the use of a Krakoa flower, but no one’s ever suggested what her motivation would be for doing so), but it’ll have to go on the list of plot threads that weren’t resolved in House of X.

In a development that really ought to be troubling to more people, Dr. Gregor throws away whatever moral compunctions she has about waking up a potentially violently insane A.I because “I don’t let them stop us. No matter what,” a potentially existential downside to Omega’s strategy. 

Do Whatever It Takes:

Having reached the “darkest moment” in the story diagram, Professor X orders his students to “do whatever it takes” to prevent Mother Mold from coming on line. This prompts Cyclops to give the order to Nightcrawler and Wolverine to jump out into unprotected space to sever the last constraint collar. All in all, we’re following the traditional beats of the special ops/espionage genre pretty closely, down to the team leader’s moral anguish moment.

Appropriately, we then get a quiet moment where Kurt and Logan contemplate whether or what will be “waiting for us on the other side.” Even knowing what we know now about the resurrection system, there’s still a good deal of weight to this moment, because in a way this Kurt and this Logan are going to die and whether they’re the same Kurt and Logan who will be reborn is a matter I’ll take up in Powers of X #5 along with the difficult topic of the philosophy of identity. (I’m going to leave aside the question of them having gone to literal Heaven and Hell in the past, because my Doylist position is that those story threads were probably a bad idea and my Watsonian No Prize is that you can’t remember the afterlife once returned to earth.)

Surprisingly, things get only more metaphysically weird when the two teleport outside and Wolverine starts chopping his way through the last arm. Mother Mold wakes up and immdiately starts talking about Greek mythology. Mother Mold’s interpretation of the Titanomachy is a little choppy (as we might expect from an insane A.I): on the one hand, if humanity are the Olympian gods as the creator of the Sentinels and the mutants are the Titans because of “their spoiled lineage” (this doesn’t quite work, because the Titans preceded the Olympians), then the Sentinels being “Man” makes sense. And as someone who’s written his share of college papers about omniscience/predestination/free will in Greek myth and drama, there’s a plausible anti-theist position whereby human beings might “judge and find you both wanting.” (Although that language is too Book of Daniel for the Greeks.) On the other hand, if the Sentinels are man, them having “stolen your fire” doesn’t work either - humanity was given fire by the Titan Prometheus - unless the argument is that Wolverine is Prometheus because he yeets Mother Mold into the sun?

Regardless, it’s a very ominous note for Mother Mold to go out on, because the consistent anti-human/Olympian tone suggests this insane A.I might hate humans way more than it hates mutants. 

With the day seemingly saved, we transition into the Rogue One scenario where Cyclops is murdered by a vengeful Dr. Gregor and Jean is torn apart by Sentinel drones. 

As gruesome as all of this is, I think it does play a very important role in explaining a good deal of Charles Xavier’s change of mind with regard to human-mutant harmony and assimilation. While this incident didn’t prompt any of the decisions that he’s made along the way - this mission is happening post-Xavier’s announcement and a day before the U.N vote, making it quite late in the X^1 timeline - I think it does a good job of showing us the kind of thought patterns that have led Xavier to this conclusion. In addition to everything he’s seen from Moira’s past nine lives, which only lend a greater sense of urgency and the fear of inevitability, Xavier himself has experienced the deaths of “our children” over and over again as the founder of the X-Men, and clearly both the direct trauma (keep in mind, he’s hooked into the minds of all of his X-Men as they die) and the pain he feels at humanity’s apathy/atrocity fatigue, goes a long way to explaining why he’ll make the decision that integration and assimilation are no longer viable options.

For all the crap that people sometime sling at Hickman over his use of charts, I will say that the way that “NO MORE” weaponizes them by extra-textually demonstrating the breakdown of the facade of calm objectivity is incredibly effective.

[benscursedkid]

9, 10, and 12 for Olivia asks, please?

thank you for asking! hope this doesn’t disappoint!

***long post ahead, still no computer :((

9. What was her relationship with Jacob?

Well, I like to see my Jacob as not having had any romantic feelings for either Duncan or Olivia. He liked to call them his platonic soulmates. The three of them were truly best friends and they all made a good team. They were a well oiled trio and each of them cared for each other.

Really, to put it simply, they were best friends. The boys always went to her when they needed advice and Jacob was very fond of her. He saw her as a bit of a sisterly figure for him and actually reminded him a lot of his own. They’re also housemates, so they would always lounge together in the common room when they had down time and Duncan happened to be busy. They didn’t really bother anyone seeing as Jacob was well-liked among his peers during his school years and Olivia was a very polite person. But they were known to goof off and mess around every so often. The professors hated having both of them in the same class, let alone the ones they shared with Duncan. It was practically impossible getting them to focus some days. They were the jokesters of their little group and were very comfortable with one another. They’re the type of friends who people would probably think are dating... and then get disgusted when they realize they give people that impression. Jacob is rather tall, especially compared to her, and always liked to tease her by hanging off of her or draping his long limbs across her lap or shoulders. They love to get lost in their own world together, as Duncan really isn’t one to indulge in his imagination and could spend hours having existential thoughts and bouncing what if questions off each other. But they’re also quick to console and reassure one another when one of them is down and very protective of each other. Very caring and loyal friends, but first years might not always get that impression as half the time they’re just teasing each other and trying to have the last word.

However, this Olivia was absolutely the type to tell it like it is. She’s not one for sugar-coating things and she values honesty in others so she likes to give it in return. She definitely got onto him when he started behaving erratically and didn’t give him any excuses. Honestly, I really don’t think I can stress enough just how close they were and how much they meant to one another. He would do just about anything for her and she’d gladly do the same.

10. What was her relationship with Duncan?

So, I decided to take the teeniest, tiniest page out of JK’s book— I know, I know, but hear me out —and considered adding a bit of a romance into this trio. And while Jacob Roberts would make a good match with both Duncan and Olivia, I didn’t really want him to have feelings for either of them. Now, I’m personally not a Romione fan, but I do rather like the trope. I am weak for f2l, so...

I can see them starting out as friends at first. Where Olivia and Jacob almost never shut up when they’re together, Duncan and Olivia are either perfectly content just sitting in silence and enjoying each other’s company or bickering like an old married couple and will not stop until one has gotten through to the other. But they never push or disrespect each other’s boundaries and make sure not to say anything that might offend the other. And if they do think they’ve crossed a line, they’re quick to apologize and make it up to them. But they like debating with each other as they typically have different opinions on most things. They learn and challenge each other while also being able to remain who they are. Olivia is able to help him step out of his comfort zone without pushing him past his limits and is respectful of his boundaries. Duncan is good at listening when she has things she wants to say and ideas she wants to share, even if he doesn’t quite understand, and can also bring her back to reality if she starts to wander too far. Things start out really casual and it’s comfortable for them.

Though, after spending all that time together, Olivia comes to admire his ambition and dedication, and surprising loyalty to her and Jacob. She begins to appreciate the little moments when he can relax and forget about the vaults and when he feels comfortable enough to crack jokes. She also loves to shamelessly flirt with him, just to see him stutter, all blushy and cute. And she absolutely loves when she catches him humming as he studies or when he’s making a potion or doing research. Her favorite moments to admire him are when he’s completely unaware and just content to be himself. He’s rather grumpy and introverted normally so she loves it when he doesn’t feel the need to keep himself guarded. He’s interesting and I think that’s what drew her attention initially. And while those feelings were repicrocated, they spent so many years too afraid to admit it and just continued to dance around each other, avoiding possible rejection. In the end, they didn’t get anything more than one kiss before he died and she went missing. It was one of their biggest regrets and they can both attest to that.

12. What was her role in the trio?

Personally: Olivia is a very good mediator. Her personality is a good middle ground between the boys. Jacob Roberts is a very independent, head-in-the-clouds kinda guy. He knows when to stop and think things through, but he can get pretty distracted and side tracked sometimes. While that normally isn’t a problem with the vaults, because he’s so committed to this search, often times the opposite becomes true. He’s been known to get tunnel vision and overwork himself and his friends if left alone long enough, especially when they’ve hit a snag. Duncan, on the other hand, is normally very single-minded and logical and for a wizard he’s very much in the mindset of “seeing is believing”. He sticks mostly to facts and what he knows to be true. But he can, every now and again, get frustrated if it takes him a while to make progress in their search. And, really, this usually isn’t much of a problem between them, as their strengths and weaknesses balance each other out without clashing. However, there are a select few times where they catch each other at the wrong moment— while Duncan is frustrated and in need of a break and Jacob is persistent and tries to push him a little harder than what’s probably necessary —and Olivia is needed to calm them down. She’s whimsical, free spirited, and ambitious enough to understand where Jacob is coming from in these situations, but also responsible, open-minded, and generally practical in her thinking to be able to consider Duncan’s view and his feelings on the matter. But when she gets into an argument with one of them, she usually just adheres to the “if you don’t have anything nice to say” policy and takes time for herself to calm down. It typically doesn’t take long for Jacob or Duncan to come to their senses and reach out to her first and when that happens she is quick to follow with her own apology. Even so, while Jacob is the mood maker of their trio, Olivia is good at indulging him and his ideas and thus breaking Duncan a bit out of his shell, while also not pushing him past his limit and taking time to do things that the other boy enjoys as well and grounding Jacob when the need arises.

Business: When it comes to their search for the vaults, everyone has their own jobs, but sometimes they can overlap. Duncan, for example, does most of the “super secret work”. If they need something to get in the vault, to use against whatever is inside it, or getting out, he’s your guy. He is adept at potions and fairly competent in other areas such as Charms, and Tranfiguration. However, while he scores very well in the class, he lacks a bit of field experience when it comes to DADA. But he is eager to get better and he tries his best to be a Jack of all Trades and serves them well as their strategist. Jacob, does a lot of the research. If there’s a clue to be deciphered, something missing in their puzzle, information that needs to be discovered, he is all over it. His ability to consider every possible scenario, even the unlikely ones while still having the common sense to know when he’s heading down a dead end makes him very efficient. Him and Olivia also will team up from time to time to do reconnaissance or to talk outsiders or people who are getting too close to their secret activites down and dissuading a potential liability. Despite his generally whimsical personality, he’s extremely good at reading people and controlling a situation when it gets out of hand; doesn’t buckle under pressure and he’s a good duelist. Olivia, also happens to be very skilled in martial magic, but she tends to do better when dealing with multiple people while Jacob is more efficient in one on one combat. Olivia works as the trio’s collector. If Duncan needs a material he doesn’t have on hand? Olivia can steal it from Snape and face the possible consequences. If that’s for whatever reason not an option, she’s the one making the trip to Knockturn Alley to apprehend it. Someone stole something or happened across one of their clues? She’s on it and it’ll be on your desk within the hour. She’s a fairly pleasant person and while Jacob is naturally friendly and charming, he can be a bit loud sometimes so they send in Olivia instead, just in case.

^Of course this all changes when R gets involved. Suddenly everyone is more on edge and prone to start fights and much quicker to snap or accuse. Normally they are able to recognize their mistakes and rectify the situation, but sometimes it takes Jacob longer now that his sister’s life is on the line. And without his friend, Duncan gets moodier and more stubborn when giving out his apologies. Olivia also gets frustrated with them faster and will sometimes refuse to help them compromise if it takes too long. She’ll leave them to their own devices and be done with it, wait for them to own up themselves. And Jacob, for his part, slowly begins to act irrationally, even for him, the longer R is around and the more involved they become. He’ll hide his research from them, over analyze Duncan’s work and sometimes redo it (even if it ends up worse), and do recon without Olivia. He eventually even ends up doing her job himself altogether. He becomes more mistrustful and paranoid of betrayal and of their work being revealed. He suddenly becomes insanely and scarily perceptive. He studies them and their tells, their habits and what makes them tick– what makes everyone tick for that matter. He loses his trust in his professors, his peers, and eventually them as well. It takes both of them a while to admit it to themselves, but one day they wake up and realize that they don’t recognize who he is anymore and they’re not sure he even knows who he’s become and that just breaks her heart. He was her best friend.

And that was her last thought of him before she disappeared.

[goldenworldsabound]

Modern AU: Cocktail Party

Some more modern AU, this time awkward pining edition 👀 it’s about 5 pages long.

Viren hadn’t been at the party long. It was a cocktail party for work. Most everyone had a date along with them, but no, he was here alone. It had been like that for a while, but the loneliness never really got better, even though he could hardly say he missed his ex-wife. The oft repeated words of Wendy floated to his mind - “it’s like that sometimes”. He couldn’t help but smile a bit, thinking of her speaking them to him. She wasn’t here yet, and he was looking forward to her arrival with bated breath. He swirled his wine thoughtfully. He supposed he ought to actually try and socialize a bit harder, even if she wasn’t here yet. Harrow and Sarai were here and they were good company-

Wendy walked in the door.

Viren gasped softly, staring at her openly as she stepped into the room in a golden, frilly dress. She looked...radiant. He could hardly tear his eyes from her - but he managed, not wanting to appear creepy, choosing instead to stare into his wine.

Of course, he’d been hoping she would show up. He was hoping she’d wear something cute (although, he figured anything she wore would be cute). And now that she was here…

He glanced up, and saw that she was making her way in this general direction, stopping to say hello to people.

In a moment of panic, he dashed outside onto the balcony. Moving out of view of the door, he gripped the railing with one hand until his knuckles turned white, the other sliding over his blushing face. He groaned, disappointed and frustrated with himself for running away when she appeared. He was an adult wasn’t he? What was this reaction about…

She’s just too cute in that dress, he found himself thinking. He was torn. He wanted to talk to her, he wanted to see her, but he was overwhelmed with his feelings. She looked like an angel. An angel who was his coworker and also his long term crush, but an angel nonetheless. Well, actually, that was the problem. How was he supposed to talk to her normally when he felt like this?!

He released the railing, resting his elbow on it instead, picking his wine glass up again. After a moment of thought, he took a gulp of it. Maybe that would help. No, he couldn’t drink enough for it to help, he had to drive home...and that was a bad idea anyway...he sighed, putting both elbows on the railing, hanging his head.

It was inappropriate to feel this way. Maybe it would be better if he didn’t talk to her. Maybe-

“There you are, Viren!”

The sound of Wendy’s voice so close to him startled him. He turned around suddenly, nearly spilling his wine in the process, but catching it just in time. Shit, was he still blushing? Wait, he was probably flushed from the booze anyway-

“I saw you when I came in, but then I lost sight of you. And got caught up saying hi to everyone. So many people.” She leaned on the railing next to him, clearly trying her best to seem casual, laughing a little.

He relaxed, or at least tried to, leaning on the railing again as well. “Yes, it was...just a little hot in there, so I stepped outside for a bit.” He chuckled nervously, looking to the side to meet her gaze.

“It’s a lot of people.” Wendy replied. “So I guess that makes sense. You’re not the most social type anyway.” She teased, raising her brows at him with a smirk.

“And you’re the office social butterfly, so what are you doing out here with me then?” He snapped back at her, raising his own brows and scowling a little. He regretted it immediately, but was surprised when she laughed.

“I mean, yeah, in a room full of developers I do seem pretty social don’t I?” She joked wryly, grinning.

“Hm. Fair point.” Viren replied, shrugging a little. He smiled. “So you’ve settled for hanging out with the grumpy PM then?”

“I wouldn’t call it settling! I chose to come out here.” She took a sip of her own drink, turning away from him for a moment in mock offense. She looked back at him for his reaction.

“Well, I didn’t choose...I’ll allow it, though.” He tilted his head at her, smiling softer than he intended to. She smiled back. He wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or not, but her cheeks were flushed. She was...radiant.

“There you are, my unsociable friend.” Harrow burst onto the balcony with Sarai on his arm, both grinning wide. “I should have guessed that this is where you’d spend most of a party. And you dragged Wendy out here too?” He shook his head while Sarai smiled a bit more warmly.

The two looked dazzling, in matching shades of reds and blacks and golds. Harrow probably had the most exciting suit of anyone there.

Viren stood up straight, gasping inarticulately. “I did not drag anyone out here! In, in fact, she came out here after I did. And I was just getting a breath of fresh air anyway, what’s so wrong about that?!” He was certain his face was red now.

“It’s true, I did come out on my own!” Wendy added helpfully, holding up a finger as she spoke, grinning.

“Oh! Well, you know, I was just thinking this was a nice romantic spot, I mean the moonlight, the quietude…” Sarai interjected, watching with glee as Wendy’s face grew redder by the moment. “Did you come out here for some specific reason?”

“Honey…” Harrow said, patting her shoulder, but clearly trying to suppress his own pleased grin at her teasing. Viren was his best friend, and needling him was a favorite past time of his. Especially when it came to the girl he clearly crushed on despite refusing to acknowledge it. He wasn’t too sure how Wendy would take it...so he hesitated.

Viren was looking at Wendy with interest now, even as he felt his own face burning. The heat and attention was suddenly on her, and despite himself, he hoped that perhaps she had come out here for some sort of confession or something. No, that was ridiculous-

“UM! W-well, no, I also just, just wanted...to step outside for a moment!” She kept her gaze glued to her feet, tapping her fingers together nervously. “Classic anti social developer!!! Ha!”

“Are you drunk, Sarai?” Viren asked, suddenly feeling protective of the clearly embarrassed Wendy.

Sarai shrugged. “Could be!” She sipped her cocktail pointedly, before laughing.

“Anyway, we just didn’t want you two to miss the party because you were moping or not-flirting outside.” Harrow continued, unable to resist dropping the jab in. Viren looked at him like he couldn’t quite believe Harrow had said that, and like he was of half a mind to strangle him. Wendy squeaked but otherwise didn’t react to the comment.

“More importantly we barely know Wendy at all!” Sarai moved over to grab Wendy’s hands in her own, smiling. Wendy stared at her, too startled to react much more. “She seems like more fun than you anyway, Viren, so you can stay out here if you want.” She stuck her tongue out at him. Wendy giggled. Needling Viren like that was a past time of hers, as well.

“More fun than-” Viren scowled, but then sighed, mouth a thin line. “I suppose I can’t argue with that. She’s the life of the office, and I’m just- just- an interloper by comparison.” He gestured dramatically as he spoke.

“Yep, so I hear.” Sarai replied, while at the same time, Wendy exclaimed, “that’s not true!”

Sarai and the others turned and looked at Wendy, who quickly closed her mouth. Looking mortified. Everyone was looking at her now, including Viren.

“Er, I just, thought that was a bit harsh…” She freed her hands from Sarai’s grasp to wave them dismissively.

“We’re joking, at any rate, Viren. You’ll come inside with us too, won’t you?” Harrow asked.

Viren shook his head a little as if debating. “Ugh, fine. If you’re going to take Wendy away there’s no one to talk to out here anyway.” He grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Let’s go then.”

Harrow held out his arm for Sarai to grab onto again and they wandered back inside, Viren and Wendy awkwardly following behind them, avoiding making eye contact. Viren was of half a mind to offer his arm to her, but that was a foolish idea. People would get the wrong. Hell, he might get the wrong idea from his own gesture. No, it was best...not to do anything.

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

“Ah I guess I need to call an Uber…” Wendy yawned a little. They’d been socializing for what felt like hours, and the party was winding down.

“Oh! Where do you live? We could give you a ride.” Sarai offered immediately.

“Oh, just north of the mall.” Wendy said. “It’s a little far, I know…”

“I live over in that direction. I can give you a ride, if you’d like.” Viren said, heart pounding at the suggestion.

“Hm, you wanna give her a ride, huh?” Harrow repeated, smirking. Sarai giggled.

“BECAUSE SHE LIVES NEAR ME! That’s the opposite direction from you two, so it doesn’t make sense for you to do it!” Viren snapped vehemently, looking again like he wanted to strangle his best friend. Wendy stood silently, smiling awkwardly.

“I’ll take you up on that.” She replied shyly, bowing her head a little. “Thank you.”

He blushed and softened a bit as he looked at her. “Oh! It’s no problem, of course, if I’d known I mean, I would have been happy to just carpool from the start. You should have asked.”

Harrow thought to make another teasing comment, but Sarai put a hand on his shoulder and smiled at him. He smiled back at her. Watching those two...it was so obvious what the outcome would be, it was almost painful to watch. But they were sure that sooner or later...one of them would be brave enough to say something.

“See you later then!”

“Bye!”

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

The car ride back was surprisingly pleasant, Wendy thought. She was coming up with topics left and right to discuss and Viren seemed more than happy to discuss them. She hadn’t felt this connected to him in a while. Like they were really bonding. They weren’t even being particularly snarky.

She was also surprised to feel disappointed when they finally pulled up to her apartment. She was even more surprised when he turned the car off. She looked at him curiously.

“Oh, um, I figured I’d walk you to your door, if, ah, if you want. It’s, um, dark out.” Viren felt himself blush as he realized she hadn’t been expecting this from him.

“Oh! That sounds...really nice. Thank you.” Wendy was blushing as well. He’s just being nice...she thought to herself, completely missing the rose tint on his cheeks in the dim lighting.

They walked in an awkward silence to her door, both kicking themselves for making it awkward.

“Um, thank you, Viren…” Wendy said, digging for her keys. She went to put them in the door and promptly dropped them in a jangly mess at her feet.

“Oh, let me get that-” Both of them leaned down to grab the keys. Instead, their hands touched.

It was electric. They both pulled back, Wendy grabbing the keys immediately after. They both stood up, blushing and looking away. Wendy fumbled to find the correct key again. The silence stretched on. This time, she managed to get the key in the lock, and to an unreasonable amount of relief, the door opened.

“Did you, um, did you wanna come in?” Wendy asked, feeling stupid as soon as she it.

“Hm? Oh, um, thank you, but, I really need to get home to my kids. And frankly,” He reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, smiling softly. “You look exhausted. You should get some sleep.”

His smile was so soft, she blushed deeply. But he began to blush too, at his own boldness, suddenly realizing what he’d just done.

“S-sorry, I’ll be going now.” Viren backed up into the hallway, holding his arms tightly behind his back. He turned to walk away.

“Viren?” She called after him tentatively. He stopped and looked at her, face embarrassed. “I’m glad we got to talk. It was really fun.” She smiled shyly.

He blushed again. “Me too. Sleep well, Wendy.”

“You too.” She waved at him as he went down the hallway, only closing the door once he was out of sight.

She promptly walked to her bed and fell face first onto it, groaning.

“He’s not allowed to be that sweet!!! When did he stop being such a jerk?!” She groaned into her bed, banging on it with her fists while she kicked her feet. “I thought my crush would just fizzle out over time but it’s only gotten worse! ARGH!” She grabbed a pillow and pulled it on top of her head.

“If I have a dream about him, brain, I will end you.” She grumbled, finally standing up to get ready for bed, rubbing at her sleepy eyes. She would deal with this crush thing later, after some sleep. Probably.

[savannacentralperk]

Partner

A/N: Thank you to kt_valmiri for editing and ScaraMedn and Cimar-WildeHopps for beta reading.

The following isn't a real chapter of The Perks, just an extra bit I've been working on for a while. Hope you enjoy! And thanks for reading.

………..

Judy sat on her bed with her laptop open, mind numbingly bored. She had been looking up random things on the internet and was rapidly running out of ideas. Gideon was busy with a family event, her brothers and sisters in Bunnyburrow wouldn’t stop talking if she messaged them, and Nick’s last text said he was going to take a nap. So now, she was bored.

With a sigh she picked up her phone and unlocked it. Going to the pictures, they were flicked through, though she paused at one from the party last Saturday. Nick’s eyes were on her though the rest of him was pointed to the camera, she smiled at the admittedly great picture of the pair of them.

And that’s when it came to her.

Waking her laptop up, she went to the search bar and typed in her new objective. Matthew Wilde.

Her eyes flicked over the search results, the first being the photo of a handsome todd in his police blues. His hat fitted over his ears, two familiar green eyes stared back at her as a small, smug smile graced his muzzle. Though his fur was a deeper shade of red, he was very obviously Nick’s father.

Clicking on a link, her heart slammed into her chest as a larger copy of the photo graced the page.

‘Zootopia lays its first fox officer, Matthew Clayton Wilde, to rest today at Shady Grove Cemetery. The eight-year veteran officer lost his life after a run in with a supposed ‘savage’ jaguar, an incident witnessed only by Officer Wilde’s partner, Officer Duke Weaselton. There have been no confirmations on the validity of the story and the ‘savage’ jaguar remains at large.

'Officer Matthew Wilde was 40 and leaves behind his wife, Vivian Joan Wilde, and their three kits, Skye Abigail, 20, Gregory Matthew, 14, and Nicholas Piberious, 10.’

A feeling of coldness seeped into her as Judy scrolled to the bottom of the page.

There, in grainy color, was the Wilde family. Skye was the spitting image of their mother, who had her and another todd wrapped in her arms. A younger Nick dangled off his father’s neck as Matthew laughed into the camera, one paw around his wife, while the other rested on the arm of his young son. The bright smiles on their faces made the article that much harder to absorb.

Clicking back and selecting another, Judy felt her curiosity grow.

‘Top of the class, Zootopia’s Precinct One welcomes its first fox and weasel cops. Graduating with honors, newly badged officers Matthew Wilde, fox, and Duke Weaselton, weasel, join their brothers and sisters in blue on Monday. The controversial decision stemmed from the long-debated Mammal Inclusion Initiative, a move many have deemed to be a step towards the future, while others argue it could pave the way for future corruption within the departments.

‘Both officers have been long time volunteers with the ZPD, ranging from community outreach to organizing fundraisers for fallen and retiring officers. Widely recognized within Zootopia for their support of the MII, there is much credit due to the pair for getting it passed.

‘In response to the bill passing and the two new officers, the mayor’s office issued the following statement: “Police violence with under-represented communities are at an all-time high. If we, as a city, are to carry the quote ‘Anyone can be anything’, we must be prepared to live by it. We at City Hall have every bit of confidence Officers Wilde and Weaselton will be what this city needs to tip the scale closer towards equality and open the door further for those who dare to dream big.”’

Officer Weaselton… Duke Weaselton.

Paws flew across the keyboard. Another link, another click.

‘First weasel officer Duke Weaselton announces his retirement from the Zootopia Police Department. The announcement follows several complaints of conduct unbecoming and unnecessary force, towards the officer in question, along with accusations of Weaselton being intoxicated on the job. These incidents are theorized to stem from ‘Survivor’s Guilt’, says behavioral expert Martha Clawson.

‘“Officer Weaselton has been a model cop and citizen before the untimely demise of his friend and partner Officer Wilde,” explains the serval. “And it’s common in situations like theirs that the surviving parties act out of resentment towards the fact the they are alive. The decision for Officer Weaselton to leave the force is a wise one at this time.”

‘Before their graduation from the Zootopia Police Academy, Officers Weaselton and Wilde had been friends since they were young kits. While Wilde’s untimely demise at the claws of Mr. Renato Manchas while he was savage, rocked this fair city to its core, those who knew him best will find it the hardest to move on. As we as a city move past the tragic events of the Night Howler Epidemic, let us not forget those who were directly affected by it.

‘And to Officer Duke Weaselton, good luck.’

Shaking her head to clear the depressing fog that clouded it, Judy clicked back again and searched for Renato Manchas.

‘Savage Jaguar Found Alive, Along With Several Other Missing Predators.’

‘Re-call of Natural Garden Pesticide.’

‘Active Ingredient, Midnicampum Holicithias (Night Howlers) Found to be Cause of Savage Outbreaks Around Zootopia.’

‘Renato Manchas, the ‘Savage Jaguar’, Admitted into Rainforest Psychiatric Hospital.’

Unable to read anymore, the bunny exited out of the search page and closed her laptop. Setting it aside, she laid back and thought about what she’d read. She knew exactly what pesticide was re-called, the creator of which having been a long-time family friend. The recipe was sold to a big manufacturer and the ewe and her family took their new fortune and left Bunnyburrow.

Some farms, including her parents’, still used the flowers to keep bugs away. Though everyone gave them a wide berth. Now, knowing that someone she was having serious feelings for had lost someone he loved because of them, made a sharp pang of resentment and distain fill the pit of her stomach.

Closing her eyes, she thought of how devastated she, Jack, and the rest of her family would be if the same happened to her own father. And such a thought spawned a question…

What was Matthew Wilde like? ………….

TWENTY YEARS AGO

“Ok! So I’m picking up black beans, canned tomatoes-”

“Diced! They need to be unseasoned, DICED canned tomatoes.”

“Right, right… Tomatoes, chili powder, garlic, and, my secret ingredient… Sweet potatoes!” The todd chuckled into the phone at the groan of disapproval on the other end of the line. “What? They’re good for you. And need I remind you, my friend, you’ve declared this chili to be the best thing you’ve ever eaten?”

“Yeah, yeah, up until you remind me that you put sweet potato in it.”

“Duke, you can’t survive off those frozen bug patties. You need actual, healthy protein, not that over processed garbage.” He shook his head as he leaned against the pay phone box.

He could practically see the weasel neurotically double checking that he had everything for the pot luck the next day. His friend had run himself ragged making sure he was prepared to make a good impression on the new group they joined. Because this group could make or break whether you would get into the Zootopia Police Academy. It had been Duke’s dream to be a cop ever since he was a kitten. With debates about the Mammal Inclusion Initiative raging around them, Duke needed all the help he could get.

So, as the weasel’s self-appointed emotional guardian, Matthew Wilde was bound and determined to make sure tomorrow went as planned. And that’s why he wrote the list of everything that he needed for his famous sweet potato chili.

“Yeah, yeah.” Duke grumbled on the other line. “…What if they don’t like me?”

With a snort of laughter, Matt rolled his eyes. “Then they’ll be perfectly normal mammals who can go fuck themselves. Just don’t…you know… Weaselton it up.”

“Did you just verb me?”

“Yeah, Duke, I did. Listen, I gotta go get this stuff. But I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon in Savanna Central Park. Just try not to stress and get some sleep.” With another grin at the grumbled response, the todd hung up and headed towards the grocery store.

Breathing in the scent of fresh produce and air conditioning (a welcomed respite from the scorching Sahara District outside), a medium sized cart was snagged as Matt pulled the list from his pocket again.

“Onions…” weighed and tossed in. “Sweet potatoes…” Added. “Salad stuff.” Bagged and tossed to the cart.

“Hey, Vivian, can you put this back before you clock out?” The sudden shout had him raising his head in curiosity, only to do a double take at who was being called.

Glossy white fur, most of which was hidden by an unattractive black work shirt and apron, and two bright blue eyes looked to the speaker before paws lifted to catch what was tossed to her. Turning to put the box on its display without so much as a glance in his direction, she pulled the apron ties free as she carried on her way.

“I’m out, Jeff! Skye and I are going to get some shopping done first, but you’re S.O.L. if you need me for the next couple of days!” she called to the capybara still working.

“Big plans?” he asked with a smile.

“Just studying. I have a test coming up and if I pass, I’ll be able to get into the advanced nursing program!”

“Good luck!”

Just as suddenly as she’d appeared, she vanished. And Matt had to give his head a shake to clear the sudden fog that filled his mind. With another glance to where she had been, he refocused his attention back to his task. The list had the todd’s weekly shopping added to it, so with a slight sigh he made his rounds, each item checked off as he went, his eyes scanning for a glimpse of Vivian. But, unfortunately, with no luck.

Once his cart was full, he made the trip to the register, only to catch sight of the cereal aisle. He was a healthy eater, especially since he had been training to get into the Academy. Having never been a huge fan of junk food, the fox found one indulgence he couldn’t get enough of: Lucky Chomps.

And there was a sale.

Debating, he gave a glance at the healthy stuff in his cart, before he gave in and steered into the aisle. Setting the cart off to the side, Matt eyed the wall devoted to his vice and grinned. Two boxes were selected, the fox still grinning as he turned back to the cart. Only to be scared within an inch of his life by a high-pitched shriek.

Eyes wide, boxes falling to the ground, he looked at the source of the sound in terror.

“AHHHHH!” protested a small white vixen from her place in the cart seat. Her little body was half draped over the bar as her tiny paws reached for the box of cereal that had fallen. Giving up, she fell back onto her seat as her face crumpled. Without thinking, Matt rushed forward and scooped the box up, giving it a shake to distract the little kit from what sure to be a very loud wail of despair.

“No, no!” he reasoned. “Don’t do that! See, I got it for you. Look!”

He smiled as the vixen’s tear stained face lit up as paws reached for the box. And his heart was effectively melted when she hugged the huge item and smiled back.

“Tank too,” she said in a quiet voice.

“There you go! See?” He took a step closer. “Smiles are so much better than tears. And what’s your name, beautiful?”

With another shy smile, she buried her face in the box and giggled, peeking out at him.

“Can I help you?” A familiar voice spoke up.

Matt felt his entire body heat up as his ears perked towards Vivian, apron long gone, standing with her arms folded in front of the kit now babbling to herself.

“Uh, I- Uh… the box...uh… It was dropped…and…uh…Well, you know…” If he could hang himself, he would have. The most beautiful vixen he had ever met in his entire life was talking to him and he couldn’t even form a coherent sentence.

“No,” she responded, her eyes cold as she watched him. “I don’t know.”

“Hehe, yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck nervously. “Strange todd, trying to talk your little sister… Doesn’t look very good at all, does it?”

“Daughter.” Matt’s eyes widened. Turning to look at the little vixen now trying to look around her mother at him, Vivian noted the box was slightly squished from its fall. Giving him a final look, she turned to grasp the handle of the cart. “Time to go bye-bye, Skye. Let’s get home.”

“Buh-bye,” Skye said with a little wave at him.

“Bye.” he said back, watching as Vivian maneuvered her cart around and headed to the registers. A paw shot out to grab it before he could stop himself. “Matthew.”

Looking from his paw to his eyes, Vivian furrowed her brow.

“I’m Matthew Wilde. Or Matt, either one is good, really. And it was a pleasure meeting you both.”

“Oh,” she gave a slightly strained smile as her cheeks turned pink. “Thanks.”

He let go and watched as she passed, breathing deep to hold in her scent. She gave a look over her shoulder, before focusing forward and speeding up her walk. Skye gave a laugh of delight at the pace before they vanished around the corner. And Matt was thrown.

Tail wagging behind him, he inhaled again and smiled. She wasn’t marked. Which meant she was available. Odd and uncommon for a todd to leave a gorgeous vixen like that, especially if they had a kit together. Matt ruled out being a widow - most foxes substituting a ring for a scent mark, showing interested parties they weren’t ready to move on.

Matthew Wilde was a smart mammal. Though some of his life choices were dubious, he knew a dumb move when he saw one. And letting her just walk out of his life without trying would be the dumbest move of all. Eyes flicking to his own cereal on the ground, he decided to use what he knew about her to his advantage. …………

Duke let out frustrated sigh as the fridge door slammed closed. The other mammals around the poker table looked up from their cards in curiosity. “I forgot more beer.” Looking at the selection of chips on his counter, he shook his head.

“And salsa. I gotta go-”

“Just that? Do you need anything else? Anything at all?” Matt had scrambled up, his cards haphazardly tossed onto the table as he stumbled to where his jacket was. “Cause I’ll get it! Totally, guys, you need it, Matt Wilde is on it!”

Everyone watched with open mouths as the todd disappeared through the front door. …………

Vivian stood at her register, flipping through her school notes, when a familiar smell reached her. Withholding a sigh, she put a smile on her face that actually felt genuine and looked up to see the eagerly grinning Matt Wilde in front of her. Her heart gave a familiar flutter that only ever happened when she saw him. But the last time she trusted the butterflies in her stomach, she became a single mom.

“Mr. Wilde,” she greeted, noting how his fur puffed out in pleasure when she acknowledged him. “What a surprise to see you here. I haven’t seen you since this morning, when you came in six times, claiming you kept buying the wrong flowers.”

“A silly mistake to make, isn’t it? I’m just so happy you were able to provide a good home for them,” he said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the counter. “Miss me since then?”

“You don’t give me enough time to miss you, Wilde.” She smirked as she scanned his stuff.

“Why would I want to be so cruel?” he asked with a grin, enjoying the way her ears flushed.

She looked down at what she was scanning and smiled sadly. “Look, Matt. You seem nice. You really do.” Matthew felt his heart sink as she raised her eyes back to his. “But I’m a full-time student. And a full-time mom, trying to make sure her kit has what she needs to be healthy and happy while working a full-time job. I’m sorry, but I don’t have time for a relationship. Especially a casual one.” Looking to her register, a claw tapped a button to bring up his total. “Sixteen seventy.”

Passing her a bill, the todd tightened his grip on it to get her attention.

“What if I wasn’t looking for causal? What if I wanted something more?’

“Then you’re going to have to find it somewhere else,” Vivian replied, tugging the money from him. “Good looking todd like you should have vixens crawling all over him.” She smiled again as he accepted his change and his bags.

Matthew nodded his head with a thoughtful expression on his face. Suddenly he smiled and straightened up, looking her in the eyes.

“Guess I’ll have to try harder then.” And with a wink, he strolled away, leaving Vivian flabbergasted, annoyed, and, if she was honest with herself, incredibly excited. But mostly annoyed. A little… Maybe…

“That wasn’t code to try harder!” she called after him.

He simply turned to walk backwards as he shouted back, “You make it sound like you’re not worth the effort.” Grinning, he turned again and walked through the sliding doors.

The vixen looked at where he had vanished and chewed her lip. Tension pulled in her belly as she realized Matthew Wilde wasn’t going to give up. It was a thought that simultaneously made her joyful and anxious. She couldn’t put her faith in him, not when she had Skye depending on her for everything. When he inevitably broke her heart, her daughter would suffer, too.

“That’s the guy who keeps on bothering you that you ain’t interested in?” came the voice of her co-worker Rhonda.

Sighing, Vivian nodded and looked at the coyote, who gave her a look of exasperation. “And what part of him ain’t you seein’?”

“It’s not about looks.” She rubbed her paws on her face before leaving the register, Rhonda close behind her. “I know his type. I dated his type and his type took off when I needed him the most.” Both females took carts full of returns and steered them to the aisles. “I’m not going to fall for that again.”

Rhonda scoffed as she paused in front of a shelf and began to put groceries away.

“Honey, I think his type is just what you need. Roger only noticed you when you were in front of him. You had to go to him and he never came to you. Even before Skye, he was never there for you. That todd has been in this store fifteen times in the last week and will wait until he sees you working before he starts his shopping. I went over the numbers and he spent nearly two hundred dollars on sunflowers alone, and he gave them all to you.” She smiled as Vivian blushed. “And need I mention the notes he’s been leaving?”

Vivian paused with her paw on a can, eyes on it without seeing as it was pushed into its spot on the shelf.

“How did that poem go?” Rhonda asked with a sly smile over her shoulder.

The vixen’s ears went red. “Mind your own business,” she muttered.

“Just sayin’, sugah,” Rhonda laughed. “If you don’t want him, send him my way. I will gladly dye my fur for a chance at him lookin’ at me the way he looks at you.”

Vivian froze at that. Closing her eyes, she cleared her head of any thoughts about him, before opening them again and continuing her work. A relationship with him could only end in tears. ………..

“Why the hell are we doing this, Wilde?”

The todd was draped over a mailbox, gasping for breath as their group ran past him. A few of the larger mammals looked close to fainting, many having done exactly what he was doing earlier. Feeling like he was dying, Matt pulled his head up high enough to look over at Duke.

“We’re doing this because you don’t when to quit, Weaselton!” he managed to counter, watching his friend fight to try to pull himself together.

“You seriously need to stop listening to me.”

“I try. You just talk louder.” Duke gave a breathless laugh and looked over at the fox. And his eyebrows crinkled in confusion at the sight of him.

Matthew Wilde was still leaning against the mailbox. But now his head was perked up, eyes focused on something across the street. Following his gaze, Duke’s eyes widened at the sight of pretty vixen hanging out the window of an apartment. Her paws held up a tiny kit who clutched at a watering can, its contents being poured over the small flower garden on the ledge.

And Matthew was enraptured. His tail wagged behind him, eyes full of stars as a smile softened his muzzle. The weasel gave him a bemused expression before looking over at the vixen and kit again.

“She’s pretty,” he said.

“They’re both beautiful.”

“Shame she’s taken.” Feeling as refreshed as he was going to get, Duke nudged him. The pair across the street giggled together before disappearing into the apartment.

“She isn’t.” Duke gave him a startled look.

“I thought you foxes were lifers.”

“There are exceptions to every rule.” Matthew explained as they began running again. “I smelled her the first time I ever met her. She’s not taken and no ring means she’s not widowed. She’s single, with the sweetest little kit in the world. All I have to do is convince her to take a chance on me.”

“Wow!” laughed Duke as they caught up with the rest of the group. “You’re screwed.”

He gave a glance to the todd who looked apprehensive. With an eye roll, Duke shook his head. “You’ll be fine.” Matthew’s head snapped to him. The weasel studiously kept his gaze on the path in front of them. “You’re a good looking, intelligent, ambitious young todd and any vixen would be lucky to have you.”

Matt’s shoulders squared a bit as he soaked in his friend’s words of praise. “Now I just have to figure out how to win her over.”

“True. I mean it’s not like you can serenade her outside her window like Romeo or whatever.”

And with that comment, Matthew’s face lit up.

“Hey Duke? Do you still have that old acoustic?”

“Uh…yeah…”

“Can I borrow it?”

I gotta learn when to shut up, Duke thought with sigh. …………………..

Vivian laughed as Skye held up a pawful of spaghetti to her mother, who pretended to gobble it up. The little vixen shrieked with laughter at her mother’s antics, before she was pulled from her spot and brought to the sink to wash up.

“You got more sauce in your fur than in your mouth, baby.” Vivian grinned as she soaked a washcloth and began to clean off her daughter.

Skye babbled to herself as she was cleaned up, her mother occasionally smiling and nodding at her words. Yet, Vivian’s thoughts were preoccupied with someone else… Someone with deep red fur and green eyes.

The thoughts she was having were pleasurable. With those paws and that scent, she was counting the seconds until she could put her daughter to bed so she could enjoy those fantasies in her bed. She may never act on her urges, but as soon as she was alone for the night, Matthew Wilde would have his way with her. As he had every night since she had met him.

“Mama?” came the most precious voice she ever heard.

“Sorry, baby. Mama’s mind was somewhere else.”

“No, Mama. Listen!” A tiny paw pointed to window.

Confused, Vivian followed her gestures, now aware of the music faintly drifting from the window.

“Hello… I’ve waited here for you. Ever long…”

Skye hopped down from the counter and ran towards it, Vivian close behind her. Popping her head out, she looked down to see Matthew in the alley, guitar slung around his neck. Green eyes were focused on hers, widening as she met his. A light tug at her shirt had her lifting Skye up to see the impromptu show. And the fact that Matthew’s eyes softened further at the sight of the little vixen made any hesitance she had felt before crumble away.

“And I wonder… When I sing along with you… If everything could ever feel this real forever If anything could ever be this good again The only thing I’ll ever ask of you, you gotta promise not to stop when I say when…”

Vivian smiled at the todd serenading them. Pulling Skye further into her arms, the vixen smiled down at him, deciding right then and there that tonight wasn’t going to be just her normal fantasies.

Tonight was going to be the real deal. …………….

“Okay, sweetheart,” Matthew was kneeled in front of Skye, fixing the bow in her fur and brushing out her dress. “Do you remember what you’re going to say?”

With an excited nod, she grinned up at him. “Mommy! Maddy has a big sup’ise for you!”

Laughing, he scooped her up and planted a big kiss into her neck. “That’s my vixen!” Skye laughed and squirmed as Matthew covered her in kisses.

It had been over three months since Matthew had managed to win Vivian over. And it was better than anything he could have hoped for. Skye was as precious to him as if she were his own kit and her mother every bit the vixen of his dreams. And once he realized she wanted to be a nurse, he dropped everything to make sure she achieved that dream.

Without complaint, he made sure Skye was taken care of and Vivian came home to a clean house and hot meal, her daughter happily distracted from her hardworking mother’s absence. And in turn, Vivian made sure that he had the ability to train for the police academy whenever possible.

And while Duke was jealous of his best friend’s new life, he found himself charmed by the vixen and her daughter. He was invited over for dinner almost every other night and the weasel realized there were worse things in life than being Uncle Dukey, as Skye called him. Not to mention Vivian was a staunch supporter of the Mammal Inclusion Initiative. Which would help him and Matty get into the Zootopia Police Academy.

Both mammals had been turned away due to their species but, when the MII passed, that would change. For now, they would work the menial jobs they could find to make ends meet. Even if it took years.

But that day was far off.

It had been nine months since Matthew had met Vivian. And that entire time, he knew she was his one and only. She had his heart and all that it was. Vivian was his first and he every intention on making her his last.

So, with a simple meal on the table, along with some candles and soft music, Matthew was going to ask the most important question of his life.

The sound of a key in the door had both foxes freezing and looking over to it. Setting Skye down, the todd straightened out his suit and gave the kit a final look over. She bounced with excitement as the door opened revealing an exhausted Vivian weighed down with books.

“Mommy!” Her blues eyes lit up as the little vixen ran towards her and leaped into her arms, allowing her school work to fall to the floor.

“Hi sweetheart.” Burying her muzzle into her fur, Vivian looked up and smiled at her boyfriend, who waited patiently for his turn. Setting her down, she gave him an appreciative growl. “You clean up nicely, I must say, Mr. Wilde.”

His heart hammered in his chest as he stepped towards her, excited at having her so close to him.

“And you, Miss Drift, are a sight for very sore eyes.” To his delight, she easily gave into his embrace, letting her arms encircle his neck as he lowered his muzzle to kiss her lips. They let themselves enjoy the moment before Skye refused to be ignored anymore.

“Mama! Mama! MA-MA!” Laughing, they broke apart and looked down at her.

“Maddy has a sup’ise for you!”

“Does he now?” she asked looking back to Matthew.

The todd smiled and shrugged. A soft knock on the door had everyone turning, though Matt still kept his smile. Checking his watch, he gave a nod of approval.

“Right on time!”

“Uncle Dukey!” Skye raced to the door and jumped for the knob, swinging it open to find Duke grinning down at her.

“Hey, my little snow flake!” Bending down, he accepted an excited hug, before looking up at the couple. “Is she all ready?”

Matt grinned and nodded, walking to the couch to grab Skye’s overnight bag and stuffed bear. “She’s ready to spend time with her favorite uncle.”

“Wait, wait!” protested Vivian. “What’s all this? When was this decided?”

Duke grinned and accepted the bag as Matt turned back to her. “It’s all part of the surprise.”

“But I didn’t agree to Skye leaving for the night,” she countered, crossing her arms and tapping her foot. Matt pulled her into his arms, a paw going to bring her gaze to him. Her mouth opened again but the words died when a gentle kiss was pressed to her lips.

“Trust me,” he whispered, pulling away. “I will never do anything to put her in any sort of danger or leave her with anyone I thought was going to harm her.”

Vivian was silent for a moment before nodding her head. Skye was given a tight hug and kiss and Duke was issued two warnings, one from her and one from the todd. The vixen worried her lip as the door closed, causing a smile to curl on Matt’s muzzle.

“Now,” he began, picking up a remote. “Where were we?”

The stereo came to life, the opening chords to their song starting. She smiled shyly as he set the remote aside and extend a paw. Drawing her into his arms, they held each other’s gaze as they slowly danced to the music.

“You played this for me outside my window,” Vivian whispered as she wrapped an arm around his neck. Her nose buried into his fur as a laugh rumbled his chest.

“I played it for you and Skye,” he responded nuzzling the top of her head. “I needed to do something to get your attention.”

“I’m glad you realized we’re a package deal.”

“And you two are worth everything.” She smiled into his shoulder and pulled away in curiosity when she felt him tense. He met her gaze, green eyes filled with nerves. “Vivi, these last few months have been the greatest of my life. And just when I think I can’t love you two more… I find myself falling further and harder.”

Their dance had paused as Vivian pulled away gently, her heart hammering in her chest as Matt’s paw went to his pocket.

“Oh, my gods…” she whispered as he pulled out a small black box and lowered himself onto a knee in front of her.

“Vivian Drift,” he said in a slightly choked voice. “You and Skye are my world. I’m in love with everything about you and there’s nothing that would make me happier than helping you raise your beautiful little vixen. I don’t have much to offer you, and I know I spend a lot of time training for the academy and trying to get the MII passed, but I’d give it all up for you.”

A small gasp escaped her when he opened the box to show off the tasteful diamond ring inside.

“Will you marry-”

“Yes! YES, yes, yes, yes!” Laughing and crying, she tackled him to the floor, causing him to drop the ring box.

High off her answer, Matt wrapped himself around her, muzzles pressed together, separating only to reaffirm her answer and declare their love for one another. Their clothes were discarded, the meal on the table forgotten, and the rest of the night was passed with them joined as one.

It took no time to plan the wedding. Both had scant amounts of family, Vivian inviting her elderly aunt and Matt having only a couple cousins who were rarely in Zootopia. So, it was decided that they would exchange vows in city hall, with Duke beside Matt and Rhonda holding Skye. Afterwards, they enjoyed a quiet lunch before Duke took the kit for the night, leaving the newly wedded couple to enjoy their first night as husband and wife.

And Vivian felt as though the last few years before meeting Matt were a bad dream. Skye was a welcomed respite, but the vixen had always felt as though she was drowning… Until Matthew Wilde came along.

He worked over time to make sure she was able to go to school and graduate, her grades guaranteeing her a position as a nurse anywhere in the city. Without fail, he made sure his vixens knew they were loved and valued. They returned the favor by marching with him and Duke after both males were once again rejected by the ZPA. Vivian helped him keep in shape while Skye was his most vocal cheerleader. Never had Matt wanted anything more than to make them proud, a feeling that intensified when Vivian gave birth to their first son.

The four of them went to rallies to listen to the new candidate for mayor promise to pass the Mammal Inclusion Initiative. Skye and her little brother, Greg, clapped with their parents as the lion at the podium vowed to make it his priority. It came as no surprise when he was elected. Though Mayor Lionheart kept his word and fought tooth and claw, the MII was consistently shot down when it came to votes from council members.

“The mammals of our city know what they want,” he reasoned into the camera. “And they want this to become a law. They’re tired of being turned away from jobs they’re qualified for, because their teeth are too sharp or not sharp enough. They’re tired of the world thinking they’re only capable of what their species represents! This is Zootopia. They are Zootopia! This Mammal Inclusion Initiative is what the Zootopian dream is all about. Anyone can be anything.”

Matt and Vivian’s youngest son, Nick, was two when his father lifted him up with a large grin to hug him good-bye.

“Next time you see me,” he said to the little todd. “I’ll be an officer.”

“Bye-bye, Daddy,” was Nick’s response.

Vivian wrapped her arms around them both, slightly teary eyed at the thought of not seeing him for eight months.

“I’m going to call you guys every night,” he promised, using his free arm to keep her close and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And I’m going to be home before you know it.”

“I know,” Vivian agreed tearfully, nodding and pulling away. “But I’m still going to miss you. I’m so proud of you and I love you so much.”

Nick was set back down as his father turned his full attention to his mother.

Matt’s paws framed her face as he committed every detail to memory. “Gorgeous, you have no idea.” And with those words, a kiss was pressed to her lips, causing Skye to groan in disgust as she covered both of her brothers’ eyes.

Duke laughed at them before looking towards the bus being loaded with other recruits. “It’s time, lover todd! Let’s go be cops.”

Sighing, Matt and Vivian exchanged fresh marks, before he turned to embrace his children. Smiling at Skye, he kissed her nose. “Look after your mom and brothers for me, ok?”

“I will, Daddy,” she promised, hugging him again and giggling when he marked the top of her head. Greg and Nick received the same treatment, both todds waving their father and uncle good-bye.

But that was years ago.

Eight years ago, in fact. Duke and Matt were neck and neck the whole time they were in the academy, the fox ever so slightly ahead. Their drill sergeant, Major Friedkin, was amazed at the performance from the pair of them. Both were shattering records as though they were the first cadets to ever go to the Academy. So, it was no surprise that they landed spots at Precinct One as partners.

At first, being cops did not live up to all their expectations.

Their chief, a burly brown bear named Clyde Ursolo, had been frustrated with receiving the pair. Not wanting to put time or effort into them, they were put on parking duty. It was only after Duke ticketed a car filled with an obscene amount of drugs, did the chief finally take them seriously. They were given more and more responsibility, each making a name for themselves and earning the respect of their fellow officers.

Though they both noticed they were routinely passed up for promotions and raises. And while Chief Ursolo didn’t respond to their questioning, the lion that took his place, Chief Simba Pride, explained the truth of the matter.

“The requests keep getting denied by internal affairs.”

Matt and Duke exchanged looks before frowning at their boss.

“What do you mean, ‘keep getting denied’?” demanded Duke.

Pride sighed and gave them looks of both pity and frustration. “To put it bluntly, they don’t believe my reports about your performance. They feel they’re being exaggerated to validate the MII being passed.”

“It was passed nearly nine years ago!” shouted Matt.

“And it was the best thing for this city since the Subway.” Pride leaned forward to look at the pair of them sharing a seat on the opposite side of his desk. “And I don’t want either of you thinking for one moment I’m going to let this go. I’ve watched you two do more for the citizens of this city than any other officer, myself included. I promise I will get you both the promotions you deserve. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” both males mumbled. The lion smiled and gave a nod before leaning back in his seat.

“Now, in other news…” A large paw flicked through the notes on the case they were working on. “Nothing new in the Otterton case?”

“Actually, yes,” answered Duke. “We followed up with Vincent Big. The shrew says Emmit Otterton met up with him for a late lunch after visiting Mystic Spring Oasis. Witness’ say he was alive and healthy when they parted ways. Last mammal to see him was the limo driver, Renato Manches. He agreed to meet with us later tonight.”

“Excellent.” Pride beamed at them. “Hopefully we get closer to finding Otterton.

Though something tells me when we find him, we’ll find the other missing mammals.”

“Here’s hoping,” said Matt crossing his fingers and hopping down from the chair.

“Manches seemed nervous over the phone, though, so I’m curious to know what happened. Speaking of, I gotta call Vivian back. Let her know I’m going to be home late tonight.”

“Do that, then check in with the rookie.” Pride passed the file back to Duke and waved them off. “Bogo took the meter maid punishment pretty hard.”

All three laughed at that, remembering how the cape buffalo was fuming as he put the brightly colored vest on.

“Serves him right for ignoring orders.” Duke said, grinning as he followed his partner. “All he had to do is listen to me and he would be patrolling with Wolford.”

“Dumb bull.” Matt grinned and pulled out his phone. Selecting Vivian’s number, he wandered in the opposite direction as Duke headed to their cubicle.

“Hey, babe,” she greeted with a smile in her voice.

“Wow…”

“What?” Vivian’s tone became concerned at her husband’s response.

“Just hearing you makes my day so much brighter…”

His wife laughed on the other end of the line. “Oh, no. You only use cheesy lines like that when you’re going to be working late.” She sighed into the phone. “What’s keeping my handsome todd from his family tonight?”

“The Otterton case.” Guilt filled him as she hummed her understanding. “Our lead won’t be available until tonight, but I shouldn’t be later than eight thirty.”

“Ok, that’s not too bad. Skye said she was going to come over to study. Her roommate is still being obnoxious.”

“Thank gods she’s not going over to that…TODD’S place,” Matt exclaimed, rolling his eyes at his wife’s laughter.

“He has a name, Matt, and it’s Joseph. Besides, I think they broke up the other day.”

“Halleluja! That guy was a weirdo. Not nearly good enough for her!”

“Babe, you don’t think anyone is good enough for our daughter.”

“Not my fault she’s perfect.” He smirked as Vivian laughed again. “Are you still pulling the graveyard shift tonight?”

“Yup. But this is the last shift, then I’m back to my regular hours.”

“Yay! After this is all over, we’re going to send the kits to Rhonda’s and hide out for a few days. Just you and me, baby.” Matt growled seductively.

“Promises, promises.” A distant voice was heard on the other end of the line.

“That’s my cue, Matty. I love you and good luck.”

“I love you, too. Tell the kits I’ll bring home some pizza. Now go save some lives, Super Nurse!”

Vivian laughed again as they disconnected. Matt looked down at his phone and the picture on the screen. Nick hung off his neck as Vivian leaned into his arms, with Greg and Skye wrapped up in her own. The five of them beamed into the camera and the todd felt an odd sense of unease in his chest.

“Seven thirty, Wilde!” His partner’s voice cut through his thoughts, bringing his gaze to the weasel’s. “We gotta get these reports finished, then be at Manches’ place by seven thirty.”

Nodding, he put his phone in his back pocket. “Right. Where are we going, exactly?”

Duke looked down at the paper in his paw. “Vine and Tujunga.”

“Then let’s get to it, partner.” …………..

Duke couldn’t remember the last time he was so terrified. With Matthew just a steps in front of him, the pair ran for their lives across the rope bridge, the weasel’s paw fumbling for his radio. It was pulled clear of his belt just as his partner’s feet hit solid ground. Were it not for his hind claws getting caught on the wood slats of the bridge, Duke would still be right behind him.

As it was, the weasel stumbled and fell, the radio falling from his paws into the jungle below them. His partner’s voice requesting back up was drowned out by the fear of the sudden change in events.

Turning to the angry growl just behind him, Duke’s heart stopped at the sight of the snarling jaguar lunging for him. He frantically scrambled back across the dirt as his life flashed before his eyes. Only to have a red blur disrupt his view. His panicked brain registered Matt’s sharp tugging at the weasel’s uniform to pull him further out of the way and a loud yell to distract the cat as the todd leaped towards Manches’ head.

Upsetting his momentum when the fox made contact, Manches hit the street sign first, knocking it to the ground, before the cat rolled towards the edge. His claws frantically trying to find purchase in the soil to stop his inevitable fall, Matt landed hard in front of him. With a pained grunt the fox rolled away and the officers watched in horror as their lead fell, a loud snarl echoing through the now still canopy.

“What was wrong with him?” gasped Duke as he pushed himself up.

He looked to his partner when his question was only met with labored breathing. Matt was still kneeling upon the ground, a paw pressed to his side. Sounds of sirens filled the air as the world slowed down.

“Matt?” Pain filled green eyes looked up at him before looking down at the gushing wound the fox was trying to stem with a paw. “Matty! Hold on buddy, I gotcha.”

His other paw fumbled for the radio next to him as Duke rushed to his side.

“Duke, I-I c-can-n’t p-pr-ess the b-b-butt-on…” The weasel grabbed the radio and added his own paw to the wound as he pressed down on the radio and spoke.

“Officer Weaselton to dispatch! We have an officer down, repeat Officer Wilde is down and in need of medical assistance! Vine and Tujunga!” Releasing the radio, not even acknowledging the confirming response, Duke tried not to let Matt see the worry in his eyes.

His best friend was losing too much blood.

“D-du-ke…” Matt gasped as he fell back. “I-I c-can-n’t feel my f-feet…”

“Hey!” Duke said sharply gripping his free paw earnestly as the sound of sirens filled the air. “You’re going to be just fine. You hear me.”

Still gasping, the todd nodded weakly, his body starting to shiver violently. “L-l-look ou-out for t-th-them…” he muttered, eyes going wide as shock set in. Neither registered the sounds or motions of the paramedics racing to them. “T-t-tell them I l-love them…”

Duke kept a firm grip on his paw as Matt was loaded into the ambulance. The weasel felt his heart sink as his friend’s grip weakened and medics franticly radioed the hospital with their needs. And when the todd’s uniform was torn open and the AED put to his chest, his mind shut off and his body went numb.

And when it didn’t re-start his heart, Duke’s world came crashing down. ………..

Vivian walked down the quiet halls of Savanna General, her head down as her claws scratched behind her ears to sooth her headache. She was only five hours into her twelve-hour shift and she already wanted run away.

And it wasn’t the patients, either. It was the fact that it was too damn quiet!

“Ugg,” she groaned raising her head as she approached the nurses’ station. “Last day… Then you and your husband can spend the next few days in bed.”

Smiling at the thought of what Matty would do to her once they were alone, she glanced at the clock, noting it was almost eight forty-five.

“Matt should be done about now,” she said to herself as she reached into her pocket for her phone. Frowning at the lack notifications from him, she locked it and put it back.

“You okay, Vivi?” asked Marie, the giraffe seated behind the check in desk.

“Yeah, Matt just hasn’t called yet.”

Marie gave a nod of understanding and sympathy before looking out into the waiting room. Her eyes flicked to the tv before doing a double take.

“Uh, Viv?” her hoof grabbed the remote and cranked the volume up.

The vixen looked up at the screen, where a pretty snow leopard was standing outside of St. Orchid Hospital in the Rainforest District. “We’ve just received word that Zootopia’s first fox officer Matthew Wide is in critical condition. He was admitted into the hospital over an hour ago and there has been no update on his injuries.”

Marie turned to look at her friend only to see her dashing to their lockers for her purse. Lifting her phone to her ear, the giraffe let their boss know the vixen wasn’t going to be in for a while, her own eyes filling with tears as a stricken Vivian raced out the hospital towards St. Orchid. She turned back to tv just in time to see the banner change on the bottom of the screen.

‘Officer Matthew Wilde Confirmed Dead’ ……………

Chief Pride had not been in his position for very long. He knew it was going to be a tough job. Not just because of the politics involved, either. Those were expected, but the amount of resistance to the changes he was trying to implement was disheartening. Especially when he knew his officers deserved what he was fighting for.

And now, one of them was gone.

It was the fact that he was the chief of the best precinct in the city that kept his face stoic when the doctor confirmed the news. With Mrs. Wilde falling to pieces next to him and Officer Weaselton catatonic in the waiting room, the lion could only stare after the doctor as she left them to grieve. He turned his blank stare to the vixen, his body following hers as she fell to the ground sobbing.

“I’m so sorry…” he whispered, allowing a few tears to spill as he put a large paw on her back.

After a few minutes that felt like hours, Mrs. Wilde straightened up, her body still kneeling on the hospital floor. A passing nurse kneeled to give her a box of tissues, which she accepted without a word. Cleaning her face and blowing her nose, she looked down the hall to the room that held her husband.

“I have to go home,” she said more to herself than to him. “I have to tell the kits. I have to make…arrangements…”

Tears started to fall again as the reality of her situation set in.

“Let me know if there’s anything you need.” Pride said quietly. “The ZPD is there for you and your family. One hundred percent.”

Closing her eyes, Vivian patted his paw gratefully. “Thank you.”

Standing together, they turned to the waiting room, their eyes going to Officer Weaselton. He sat unblinking, in the same position he had been left in after a nurse had helped him from the ambulance. Were it not for the rise and fall of his chest, they would have thought him to be a statue.

“Duke?” called Mrs. Wilde. “Duke, honey?”

“Weaselton.” Pride followed her lead as she walked to him cautiously. But he gave them space when she kneeled in front of him and rested her paws on his own. Her touch had the weasel’s eyes moving to hers, though they held no emotion.

“I should have given up,” he said matter-of-factly. Mrs. Wilde’s brows wrinkled in confusion. “After we were denied the first time. I should have just given up. If I had given up, Matt would have, too. Then we would still be working odd jobs, broke but alive. I should have just given up.”

Nodding at his own statement, Weaselton went back to staring blankly at nothing. The vixen looked over at Chief Pride, fresh tears falling. Gulping, she stood again and walked to him.

“Keep an eye on him, okay? For Matty.”

“I will.” Giving him a watery thanks and Weaselton a final look of worry, she left.

Looking to his remaining officer, Pride took a seat next to him.

Simba Pride knew this wasn’t going to be an easy job. But knowing that didn’t make it hurt less. ……………….

“Five more minutes…” muttered the sleepy kit snuggled up against Skye. She smiled down at Nick, whose eyes were struggling to stay open to watch the movie on tv.

“I already gave you ten more minutes,” she argued playfully, moving her arm behind him to scoop his little form from the couch.

With another smile at his sleepy grumble, she carefully carried her brother to his room. Well, her old room. Though the walls had been painted from soft pink to blue when she went off to college. Laying him down carefully, she pulled the covers over him and placed a kiss on his head. Silently, she crept from his room and closed the door, leaving it open just a crack to keep the monster under his bed away.

The hall night light making a dent in the otherwise dark house, Skye peeked into the kitchen. She frowned at the time displayed on the stove and microwave. Dad should have been home hours ago.

“He’s probably filling out reports,” Greg said, answering her silent query. He lay on the floor next to the bowl of popcorn, munching as the monsters on the tv scared kits for energy.

Sighing as she flopped onto the couch again, she propped her head on her paw as she looked to the screen. “You’re probably right. He doesn’t know when to quit, does he?”

Not looking at her, Greg shook his head. “Nope.”

Moments later, the sound of keys had both of them perking up and looking to the door, ready to welcome home their father. Only to be confused when their mother entered the quiet apartment. Greg pushed himself up to a sitting position and looked over to Skye.

“Mom?” she asked with concern. “What are you doing home so early?”

Vivian looked from one to the other, her eyes red lined and tired looking. “We need to have a talk.”

Skye took in her mother’s expression, understanding hitting her when mother and daughter exchanged looks.

“No.”

They looked over at Greg, who was looking at Vivian in anger and resentment. His paws gripped the carpet, claws digging into the fibers as he fought the tears building in his blue eyes. Vivian’s own were falling freely as she stood in the doorway watching her son as he shook his head at her.

“No…no, no, no, no, no…”

It wasn’t until she stepped towards him that he moved, pushing himself up and away, storming towards his room and slamming the door close. Staring after him,

Vivian found herself rooted to the spot.

“Mama…” came Skye’s small, tear choked voice.

And without another word, she went to her daughter and held her tight, praying that she would close her eyes and wake up in her own bed, with Matthew next to her, like she had so many other nights before. ……….

There was nothing Nick wanted more than to be like his father.

Matthew Wilde was brave and determined. Always smiling and laughing, wherever they went, he was stopped by random mammals who wanted to shake his paw. In Nick’s eyes, there was no-one cooler than his dad.

So when his mom sat him down and explained to him that he was gone, Nick didn’t understand. Because Matthew Wilde was the first fox officer in Zootopia. He faced bad guys all day long, he knew how to fight, knew how to shoot a gun and work a taser, and was the fastest runner in the world. His dad was indestructible.

And he promised he would lead Nick’s Ranger Scout Troop on their annual camp out next weekend.

But reality was a bitter pill to take. And it nearly choked him when the time came to say good-bye. Standing in a small black suit next to his mother, the young todd wasn’t sure what emotion took precedence. Until he looked up and saw Duke standing opposite of them.

Anger. That’s what he felt. Bitter anger. Why should it be his father he had to say good-bye to? What was Duke doing while his father was dying? Why didn’t that savage jaguar take the weasel and leave his honest, good, hard working father alone?

Nick opened his eyes.

In the three years following Matthew’s death, he buried himself in school and trouble. He only worked for good grades to remind himself he wasn’t completely useless. Though other than having one less thing for Vivian to worry about, he didn’t know why he bothered most of the time. Summer time made the point moot, but still…

Not feeling rested at all, he looked over to his phone as it alerted him to a message. The dream he had been having and the anger it brought vanished when he saw who messaged him.

carrots- WAKE UP ALREADY! I’m bored! :)

The now familiar, pleasant tightening in the pit of his stomach overcame him as a smile curved his muzzle.

Dumb Fox- so bossy! :)

carrots- So lazy! :)

Dumb Fox- i regret nothing. that nap was amazing!

He leaned back and waited for her reply, realizing why he participated in Finnick’s shenanigans less and less. Judy was no less mischievous, but there was a very obvious line she was unwilling to cross. A line that could very well make him seem less in her eyes if he crossed it himself. And doing something that would put him out of the running for her affections was not worth doing at all.

carrots- Are you rested enough to for a rematch on the obstacle course?

A sly grin spreading over his face, he typed out the response.

Dumb Fox- depends… what do i get if i win? ;)

carrots- You’ll see :)

Bolting up and out of bed, Nick rushed to get dressed, his body vibrating at the thought of seeing his bunny. Letting her know he was on his way, he pocketed his phone and grabbed his key before racing to the door. Though his paw paused on the knob as he looked up at the family photo.

“I’ll make you proud, Dad,” he whispered to him. “I promise.”

With a smile, he left, ready to claim whatever prize Judy had for him when he won.

Again, he would add.