#don’t sell your soul to line someone else’s pocket

[wilburgersoot]

HelloMister Soot. I hope you had a very lovely and semi-productive day. I was wondering if you had any advice as to how to get """hyped""" as it were for ones job in the morning, because you always seem so chipper about your work and I won't lie, I'm envious.

Dear Patron sunlitmcgee there is one simple answer to your dilemma and that is commitment.

Completely unbalance your life in favour of your job. Your job now is your life. You must be joyful, chipper, “hyped” as it were, for there is no other option.

Sadness? No sir. Anger? Not here today, ma’am thank you. The feeling that your life, once so full of promise has been reduced to a mindless 9 to 5 grind? My good friend, simply say no.

Denial is your strongest ally in these trying times dear patron.

Good luck!

[uwusenpaiuwu]

Baji Being A Menace To Society (And Your Relationship) 2.0

Sequel to: Baji A.K.A. The Worst (Best) Matchmaker

Summary: Baji’s at it again, acting out-of-pocket and creating chaos for absolutely no reason, other than to see you suffer. In his own Baji-esque way, of course.

Pairing: Sano Manjiro | Mikey x Male Reader

Warning(s): Boku no Pico is mentioned, but there is absolutely nothing graphic; mentions of masturbation

Note(s): I am so sorry if it isn’t funny. Sadly, I am but an amateur writer, not a comedian. Still, I hope you all enjoy! ^^

"(Y/n), want some ice cream? My treat."

Usually, you'd be the first to jump at an offer for a sweet treat, especially when you don't have to pay. However, as of now, the word 'ice cream,' when said by Baji, instantly triggers your fight-or flight-response. Paired with the fact that he’s broke as hell, your suspicions only increase for the sudden indulgence.

Since you know you're no match for the long-haired menace, your body automatically prepares to flee, legs twitching to lurch into a sprint. Unfortunately for you, just before you can get the fuck out of there, your hand is being grabbed by Mikey, who leisurely begins to tug you along to claim your dessert.

“You like ice cream, right?” he turns to ask, eyes unbelievably soft when looking at you.

And because you’re weak for him, all you can do is nod stiffly, trading in your sanity for the pleased grin that spreads across his face, his confident strides thereafter likely a result of him successfully remembering another miscellaneous fact about you, as has been the case since you officially started dating him. From the most trivial of things, like which brand of pens and pencils you prefer, to the slightly more important stuff, like ice cream being one of your favorite desserts; he’s made the effort of remembering them all.

He really doesn’t need to do any of that, ‘cause you’ll love him either way, but the conscious decision to do so is what makes you love him even more.

Zoning back into reality, you shake your head to reorient yourself. It isn’t the time to be going over the reasons why you’re such a lovesick puppy.

No, there are other things to worry about, mainly Baji.

You squeeze Mikey’s hand as you’re led to the nearest ice cream parlor to try and calm yourself. It works for the most part, especially when you get a reassuring squeeze back.

‘Right,’ you tell yourself, ‘it’s going to be okay.’

After all, Baji wouldn’t do anything too drastic, right?

~~~

You were wrong. So, so wrong.

Despite nothing having transpired yet, every alarm in your head is going off, pounding at the door of reason to get you to wake up and realize that it’s Baji you’re talking about, the same person that sets cars on fire when hungry and punches the first unfortunate soul he passes by on the street when sleepy.

You really should’ve listened to your survival instincts and ran. Alas, it’s much too late to escape, leaving you to wallow in your anxiety, while you wait for misfortune to strike.

And strike it does.

“Please, don’t sit next to me. You make me nauseous.”

“That’s cruel. I bought you ice cream, and you treat me like this?”

Yeah, he may have bought it, but you refuse to eat it because of how intensely Baji is staring at you. Fucking weirdo.

"Oh, do you want some of mine instead, (Y/n)?" Baji accentuates his question with a sensual lick to his ice cream from the edge of the cone to the finessed peak, making you extremely uncomfortable as he stares you down with the full motion.

As slowly as he licks his frozen treat do you slowly raise your middle finger, eliciting chuckles from the other occupants of the table.

You think you won that mini battle, though?

Ha! Nope.

Baji mirrors the vulgar action, not once breaking eye contact as he dips the tip of his finger directly into his ice cream, pulls it out, and proceeds to lick that, too.

Disgusted, you promptly avert your attention elsewhere, praying that Baji won’t continue being, well, himself.

Your prayers fall on deaf ears.

"It's cold!" As soon as the exclamation leaves your mouth, your blood runs glacial, knowing that you've unintentionally played into Baji's trap. The appearance of a sly, almost feral, smirk when you whip your head around to glare confirms what you already know.

The curtain has risen, and you’re standing center stage in a performance you can’t break free from.

"Aw, can't let it go to waste,” Baji continues, reaching over to scoop the ice cream you’re 100% certain he purposely spilled on the front of your shirt, with his fingers.

Then, to your horror and everyone else’s shock, he asks, without an ounce of virtue to his name, "Want me to lick it off with my mouth?"

Chifuyu is seated on the other side of the table, hiding his face in his hands. “Baji-san...”

"It'll stain if it dries like that." Dear God, how you wish to un-see Baji batting his eyelashes at you.

“I don’t care!” At this point, you’ve resorted to clumsily scooting your chair as far away from him as possible, which isn’t actually as far as you’d like considering your surroundings. Hell, so long as you put some distance between yourself and the crazy bastard that wants to see you suffer, you don’t mind having to force yourself halfway onto Mikey’s lap. (The firm hand that keeps you steady by the waist proves that your presence isn’t unwanted either.)

"Geez, (Y/n), you're such a scatterbrain."

Seeing Baji sell the line with a slow tugging of his hair behind the ear has you torn between laughing and dying a little more. Truthfully, his acting is frighteningly impressive, and you would’ve applauded his performance, if not for the fact that the role he’s playing still haunts your dreams.

By this time, most of who accompanied you to the ice cream parlor have figured out what kind of drugs Baji is on this time, which also means that those fuckers have seen, or are at least aware of, the cursed trilogy of questionable porn that’s being reenacted before their eyes, with you as an unwilling co-star. Those that are puzzled as to why people are shoving their fists in their mouths to refrain from laughing are obviously God’s favorites.

“The fuck is going on? I wanna laugh at Baji’s dumbassery, too.”

“Pah-chin... I think it’s best you don’t know.”

Interestingly enough, the one you’re most concerned about hasn’t said anything yet, splitting his attention between observing the scene unfolding and eating his portion of a deluxe sundae.

Then, out of nowhere-

“I understand.”

You and Baji freeze where you are, each of you grasping the other’s collar, you to shove him away, and him to draw you closer.

“(Y/n),” Mikey says, your name rolling silkily off his tongue in a tone much too fond for his next words, “if you like roleplay, just tell me.”

...

“Huh?”

“I’m fine with pissing, remember? So, roleplay shouldn’t be a problem.”

Heat rises to your face at an alarming pace, and it continues to climb as Mikey takes your free hand in his, which serves not to comfort but to unintentionally remind you of the humiliating experience from a few months back. And just when you convinced him that you didn’t want anything to do with getting freaky with the body’s excreta, too.

“You’ve got it wrong! I don’t- arfghfgh?!”

Your prayer to help cool down your flushed cheeks must have been heard, but you’re pretty damn sure you didn’t ask for Baji to shove his ice cream in your mouth!

“Oh, yeah. (Y/n)’s a fuckin’ geek when it comes to roleplay,” the unhinged bastard speaks in your stead, indifferent to the nails clawing at his hand clamped over your mouth. “You should try it with him. We were doing a scene from his favorite anime.”

Mikey tilts his head, interest positively piqued. “Which one is that?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, leader?”

Mikey raises an eyebrow.

Baji opens his mouth.

You lunge.

It’s a series of events that happens in the blink of an eye and ends with loud crashing as you tackle Baji to the ground.

“Listen up, Baji Keisuke. We took an oath that day, and if you dare utter a word of what went down, I’ll consider that a breach of the code of secrecy and take you down, making sure you drown in a pit of your own shame and despair.”

Surprised to have been pinned down so quickly, it takes a while for Baji’s brain to catch up, but when it does, he’s frustratingly unfazed at the threat.

“Oho~ How scary. Too bad for you, I have no shame.”

“Not even if I tell Mama Baji where your porn stash is?”

That has the great Baji tensing up.

“You wouldn’t dare use an underhanded tactic like that.”

Your lips turn into a wicked grin. “Are you sure? I have as much dirt on you as you have on me, and like you, I won’t hesitate to use it to my advantage.”

If your grin is wicked, Baji’s is downright evil, showing off his sharp, gritted canines and all.

“You got balls, (Y/n),” he snarls, “but mine are bigger.”

The boy beneath you opens his mouth, and faster than you can stop him, he just...does it.

“(Y/n) (L/n) watched Boku no Pico and liked it!”

Silence.

Silence is all that’s heard for a good, long minute following the booming roar of the revelation.

You dare not look up to gauge everyone’s reactions, instead keeping your icy glare fixated on Baji, who looks smug as shit for having caused the glorious eruption of heat to spread like wildfire across your entire body, from the tips of your ears down to where your skin disappears under the collar of your jacket.

This...

This is war.

Taking in a deep breath, you answer his uncalled for declaration with your own thunderous shout of, “Baji watched Boku no Pico and jacked off to it! Twice!”

Baji laughs. “Oh, pray tell, saintly (Y/n), how many times did you jack off to it?”

“None of your fucking business, asshole.”

“Pretty fucking sure it is, since we were in the same room.”

Someone chokes, while you choke Baji.

“We. Swore. To. Secrecy. You. Asshole,” you practically growl, with each of your words accompanied by a ruthless back-and-forth shaking of the other boy’s person.

“Let up on the choking, dude. I’m not into that. You, however-”

Unable to take the ceaseless slander to your name anymore, you reel your fist back, but, upon seeing Baji’s cheek turned to you, jaw jutted out, as if inviting you to take your best shot, you hesitate. You know you wouldn’t be able to pack enough of a punch to actually leave an impact on him, which is terribly upsetting.

On the bright side, there’s still one tactic you can use that’ll be just as effective, a technique courtesy of your health teacher, who happily taught it to the class to use in case of an emergency.

Technically, it’s meant to be used to assess a person’s level of consciousness, but you suppose it can be used to get back at inconsiderate idiots, too.

“Ow! Ow! What the fuc-! Ow!”

You keep a straight face as you continue to rub your knuckles against his sternum, fully intent on delivering the worst possible pain to the current bane of your existence. It brings a sort of sadistic satisfaction to hear the ever prideful Baji’s screams of pain, and while it doesn’t completely undo the damage done, it does help soothe your wounded self-esteem.

“You want me stop? Beg for it.”

“Pissing, roleplay, choking, and begging? Goddam- OW!”

Your reign of terror comes to its untimely end when you’re lifted up into the air by the armpits, and through the haze of your power trip, you realize that Baji’s saving grace is Draken, who proceeds to carry you out of the parlor with ease.

“People are staring,” he coolly explains when you protest to having unfinished business.

Pouting, you cross your arms over your chest. “It’s his fault.”

Once outside, Draken doesn’t immediately put you back on your feet, until Mikey strolls out of the parlor. Only when the gang leader has his arms outstretched to you are you promptly deposited on the ground and taken into his embrace.

“Are you done letting off some steam?” is the first thing he asks you. Even though you can’t see his expression, the way he holds you and the way he cradles the back of your head, handling you with the utmost care, is indication enough that there will be no reprimand for, essentially, assaulting your division commander. (You would argue that it was an act of self defense against verbal harassment, but whatever.)

There’s just an overwhelming amount of love. So, so, so much love for each other.

“Yeah, I am,” you eventually answer, followed by a content sigh.

“Good.”

Naturally, that’s the perfect time for the tinkling of the bells above the parlor door to pilfer your attention. Baji’s appearance causes your face to morph into a scowl.

You cling tighter to Mikey, peeking over his shoulder to flip the ravenet off and mouth, ‘Go to Hell.’

As always, Baji answers your attempt to appear opposing with an obnoxious smirk.

‘See you there.’

~~~

“Boku no Pico, huh?”

“Draken, don’t laugh! Baji forced me to watch it!”

“All 3 episodes?”

“Twice.”

“...”

“...”

“Favorite scene...?”

“As if I’d have one.”

"Actually-"

“Ahh! Shut up! Why are you here, stupid Baji?! You live in the other direction!”

~~~

“Hey, (Y/n). Want to try doing the same thing with me?”

You look up, perplexed. Mikey literally just walked into the room, and that was the first thing he said to you.

“Do wha-?”

Your breath catches in your throat when you turn your head, only for you to come centimeters from bumping noses with him. And because he can, he lovingly knocks your foreheads together, too.

“It’s okay. I promise it’ll definitely be fun.”

You should feel ashamed for recognizing the same sequence of lines from Boku no Pico so quickly, though any coherent words are overtaken by an incomprehensible, high-pitched screech, a feat achieved solely by a teenage boy going through puberty.

A combination of shock and amusement crosses over Mikey’s features then. He’s never heard you make that sound before.

It’s cute. Strains the ears quite a bit, but cute.

While Draken lurks beside him, questioning Mikey’s standards of what constitutes as ‘cute,’ you’re sprinting across the room, red-faced, to Baji, who’s already grinning from ear-to-ear.

“Stop tainting my boyfriend, you piece of shit! Give him back his innocence!”

(Unbeknownst to you, whilst immersed in your fit of hysterics, your use of the word ‘boyfriend’ has a certain blond beaming.

“Did you hear that, Ken-chin? He called me his boyfriend.”

“Wow, congrats.”

Mikey either doesn’t give a shit or is simply too smitten to acknowledge Draken’s apathetic response.)

Baji blinks, unable to believe what you’re trying to insinuate. “Innocent? That little gremlin motherfucker?”

Both of you look in Mikey’s direction. When he sees you staring, he breaks out in a smile and throws a wave.

Your heart involuntarily skips a beat at the sight, and, okay, you’re convinced. Mikey deserves better than knowing of that cursed series’ existence.

Clearly, you’re down bad for Toman’s leader, and as such, Baji figures he can use that to quench his boredom for the day.

“Ooh, if only you knew what he gets off to.”

The tone in his voice instantly rouses suspicion. You narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t care what kind of porn he gets off to.”

“Porn? Nah, ya silly goose-”

“Don’t call me that.”

Baji ignores your comment as he moves to sling one arm around your shoulders, the other raising up to mimic an obscene tugging motion that no teenage boy is a stranger to.

“He jerks it to yo-”

BAM!

One second, Baji is lazily hanging off of your person, the next, he’s sprawled out on the floor, face down, and groaning in pain. You expect nothing less after witnessing him receive a rather impressive flying kick to the chest from Mikey.

Before you can assess the full damage, your view gets obscured by a pair of keys.

“Wanna take my bike out for a spin?”

Yes, you know Mikey is trying to divert your attention from whatever Baji was going to say, and, yes, you probably should check on the figure that has yet to get up.

But do you really care?

You take one glance at Baji’s concerningly unmoving body and quickly come to a conclusion.

You do not.

That being said, you quite literally drag Mikey and, by extension, Draken out of there, chanting an excited, “Let’s go!” on your way, abandoning Baji to wither on the ground.

Baji?

Baji feels betrayed.

~~~

"Chifuyu?”

“Hm?”

“Y’know, I was joking.” Baji flips onto his back with a grunt. “Man, who knew Mikey was all grown up?”

The vice captain of the first division hums, seemingly uninterested in his commander’s musings.

It goes quiet for a few minutes, the sole instigator of noise being Chifuyu flipping the pages of his manga.

Unpredictable is Baji, and the same goes for his train of thought.

“I should punch Mikey for kicking me.”

“No, you’d get beat up.”

“...”

“I should punch (Y/n) for Mikey kicking me.”

Truly, unpredictable and senseless.

“You’d still get beat up.”

Baji opens his mouth to argue.

“By Mikey.”

He promptly closes it.

“Fuck it. I’ll keep spicing up their relationship as payback.”

Sighing, Chifuyu closes his book to crouch down next to him. “Baji-san, with all due respect, you’re an asshole.”

Baji Keisuke has experienced betrayal twice today.

And he deserved it both times.

[watchmegetobsessed]

ANOTHER TITLE

a/n: personally i’ve been waiting for this part to come since the beginning lmao, so here is the proposal finally!! it’s like so fluffy, almost disgustingly, but i just couldn’t help myself

pairing: Sebastian Stan X Reader

word count: 1.8k

This fic is part of the LITTLE ONE series, but can be read as a simple oneshot as well! Find the masterpost of the series HERE!

masterlist

(gif is not mine)

You’ve been eating like a hormonal teenage boy these past weeks and you know it needs to stop and held under control, but you just can’t help yourself. It’s like your stomach has become a black hole that needs to absorb any and every food that’s home, you’re constantly snacking beside the large portions you eat three times a day, there’s always something you’re craving, the shopping list on the fridge is changing every hour because you think of something else to eat.

Luckily, you haven’t gained that much weight besides the noticeable bump that’s your baby in your belly, seems like your little girl does need all the food and she uses it instead of letting it all get stuck on other parts of your body, so you’re fine for just now.

Sitting on the couch, watching some kind of soap opera, you’re snacking on an entire jar of Nutella this time, shamelessly stuffing your mouth with the sweet, thick stuff, pretty sure that nothing will be left of it by the end of the day. Sebastian is away again for his second filming that was scheduled even before you found out you were pregnant and he messed around with it a little, shortening it once again and you just visited him last weekend. Now that you are pushing the end of your second trimester, your bump is quite evident, not something you can hide easily, so when you showed up on set with your boyfriend, you didn’t even try to cover it up, knowing well someone would spot it sooner or later. However everyone on the team has been so respectful, keeping the news to themselves, because no headlines have been made about your pregnancy just yet, keeping the secret even longer. To be honest, you’re surprised it hasn’t been discovered sooner, you thoughr someone would catch you out and about and see right through your baggy clothes and sell the news to the tabloids, but now you are in the sixth month and no one knows a thing.

Your phone chimes next to you, a text from Seb and you hum to yourself happily, putting the jar aside to grab the phone and see what he wrote.

“How are my two favorite girls doing? Miss you a lot!”

He even attached a silly selfie of himself in hair and makeup, he looks adorable with the clips in his hair and some kind of patches under his eyes. Like a real beauty guru.

Grabbing the Nutella, you place it on top of your bump as you move the phone to a lower angle and take a selfie that makes your bump look even bigger, the jar on top and you grinning widely at the camera as you snap a picture and send it to him with your reply.

“Enjoying our third snack of the day at 11 am! Miss you too, can’t wait to see you next week!”

He reads the message right away, his reply coming just seconds later.

“Look at that bump! You look gorgeous, baby! Can’t wait to see you too, have fun with your sister today, love you lots Xx”

Since he has left you’ve been trying to keep yourself busy so you don’t miss him too much and you’re also using these weeks to spend as much time with your friends and family as possible, knowing well once the baby arrives you won’t be going out that much for a while, nestled up in your home, learning the ropes of being a mother. Today you are meeting up with your sister, she is taking you out to this alleged new, quite fancy restaurant you haven’t heard about before. She claimed that it’s really exclusive, so you don’t have to worry about being photographed or bothered, but she also told you to glam yourself up for the occasion. It’s gonna be some nice sister time, something you haven’t been able to do in a long time.

You take the assignment seriously, doing your hair and makeup the best you can and you decide to put on a flowy maxi dress with a soft, knitted cardigan, very much going for a kind of cottage core vibe. Leaving just in time you text your sister that you’re on your way, putting the address into the GPS and heading out of town, because the place is near the beach. She texts you back that she’ll meet you there and so your short little road trip begins. Sitting in the car you’re listening to one of the many playlists Sebastian has made for you and the baby, he likes to play them at home, humming the songs under his breath, hoping to start educating your little girl in the field of music as early as possible. You have to admit he has a good taste, so you don’t mind it at all.

As you follow the instructions of the GPS you find the place that’s supposed to be your destination, but it doesn’t seem like a restaurant at all, more like a mansion of some kind, a very expensive looking if you are being honest. There are no other cars, no sign of other people so as you park at the front you call your sister.

“Hey, I’m right outside, but I have a feeling I’m at the wrong place? It doesn’t look like a restaurant.”

“Oh, don’t worry! You’re at the right place! I’m a little late, but I’ll be there soon, just go inside, they are expecting us!” she assures you, but you’re still not convinced.

Ending the call you approach the entrance and for your surprise the heavy doors open before you could even knock or find the bell. A man in a tuxedo appears in front of you, smiling warmly at you.

“Miss Y/L/N?”

“Uh, yeah,” you nod, a little shy and confused.

“Please, follow me,” prompts as you walk inside and the two of you start crossing the grandiose hall of the building.

At this point you are sure it’s not a restaurant, but you have no idea why your sister wanted you to come here. You want to ask the man if you’re even at the right place, but he called you by your name so he was expecting you, this has to be the place where you’re supposed to be. More and more questions pile up in your head as you follow him out to the backyard, a gigantic, flower-filled garden that’s straight out of a fairytale, a path leading down to the beach where there’s a dreamy little pergola with even more flowers and fairy lights and as your eyes fall on the figure standing in the middle of the pergola, you immediately gasp.

Because surrounded with all the flowers and lights, there is Sebastian standing in an elegant suit, smiling widely at you as the man next to you helps you down the stairs before you start walking down the path to him.

Tears are flooding your eyes, because you already know what it is, but you can’t believe it’s really happening. He was so sneaky, he got home from filming earlier and even made your sister play along to surprise you, he is such a romantic soul, no one can change your mind about that!

“You’re not in Atlanta!” you tell him when he is finally close enough to hear you. He chuckles sweetly, taking a few steps forward to meet you sooner, his hands finding your waist as you cup his face in your hands, pulling him down to kiss you right away.

“No, I’m not, baby,” he smirks, his hands sliding to your belly, gently stroking the sides as you wipe your tears away, but there’s no use, because the next moment, he steps back a little, just enough so that he can get down on one knee and you’re crying again when you see him pull out a little velvety box from his pocket.

You were expecting it. You knew he would propose before the baby arrives, but you just didn’t know when and how, but he surely outdone himself with his little surprise.

“My Love, Y/N,” he starts after a deep breath, his hands finding yours and you can feel the shaking, but you’re not sure if it’s coming from yours or his. Probably both. “I’ve spent the best years of my life with you and I haven’t been the same man since the day I met you, but in the best way possible. You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever met and I’m so lucky that you did not only choose to be with me, but you are now carrying our baby under your heart as well, out little one who is equal parts of you and me, though you’re doing ninety percent of the job here,” he adds with a chuckle, making you laugh through your tears. “I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you the moment you were so badass on your first date, kissing me when I didn’t have the balls to do the first step, but I’m glad you did. I fell in love with you right then and there and the same thing has been happening every day, over and over again since then. I know we went a little out of order with everything we had planned,” he smirks, glancing down at your bump before his blue eyes find yours again, “but that doesn’t change the fact that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, so I have a question for you.”

He pops the lid of the box open, a gorgeous, brilliant diamond ring coming to your vision, sparkling in the warm afternoon Sun so perfectly, it takes your breath away.

“Y/N Y/L/N, will you make me the happiest man alive and marry me?” he asks, clearly nervous, even though there’s no doubt about your answer, you’ve told him plenty of times before that you want to marry him, but still, it’s a huge moment in both your lives.

“Yes, yes, yes!” you nod eagerly as you both start laughing in relief, his shaky fingers tagging the ring out of the box and sliding it to your finger gently, before he brings your hand to his mouth and kisses the ring.

Then he finally stands up and you basically throw yourself into his arms, kissing him like your life depends on it as he kisses you back with just as much force.

“I love you and I can’t wait to call you my wife,” he sighs pleased against your lips.

“Mm, another title in the line? Girlfriend, baby mama, fiancé and then wife,” you giggle giddily.

“You missed one,” he cocks an eyebrow at you slyly.

“Which one?”

“Love of my life.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[silhouetteofacedar]

Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 4: Man Pouts on Couch

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Mulder is not feeling lucky.

In hindsight, he should have suspected something was off today; Scully kept looking at her watch.

It’s Friday, March 13th, and he thought it’d be cute to invite Scully out for a drink again, make a little joke about it becoming a Friday the 13th tradition. This could work, he thinks. His plan is simple; ask her out every once in a while, for some reason or another, with the intention of eventually coming clean and setting up a proper date.

At five o’clock he stands up and stretches with performative nonchalance. “Buy you a drink, Scully?” he asks, cocking his head towards the calendar pinned to the office wall, surrounded by newspaper clippings and grainy photos.

She pauses with her arm halfway into the sleeve of her coat. “I…” She falters and presses her lips together, looking suddenly guilty.

“What is it?” he asks quietly, a pit growing in his stomach.

“I’d love to, Mulder, but I actually have a date tonight.”

The earth stops spinning and Mulder is thrown off balance, hurtling through the atmosphere.

“Oh,” he says softly. “That doctor guy?”

Scully nods, not meeting his gaze. “His name is Mark,” she says. “We’re getting sushi.” She looks up at him then, big blue eyes soft. “A rain check?” she asks hopefully.

She owns him; one look like that and he’d sell his soul to buy her a cup of shitty coffee. “Sure. Another time, then,” Mulder says, gathering up every scrap of composure he has left, patching together a smile for her. “Have fun.”

He goes home and throws himself face down onto the couch.

She has a date. A real date, with a presumably mentally stable human man with a high-value job. And a daughter. A ready-made family, just add water and stir. This Mark guy probably calls her Dana, asks her how her mother’s doing, feeds her bits of sashimi with no threat of aliens or shadow governments in sight. Maybe he’ll kiss her at the end of the night, softly with closed lips like a gentleman.

What stings the most is the fact that this Doctor Mark had the balls to tell Scully outright that he’s interested in her romantically, something Mulder has yet to do.

Mulder knows he should eat, but his stomach is churning and the idea of food sickens him. He’s being dramatic and irrational; it’s just one date. But the implications are weighty, the potential enormous.

He feels bad for being upset. This is good for her; she needs to get out of the basement, connect with other rational people, find some normalcy and balance in her life.

You need those things too, he hears her say in his head.

He brushes it aside. It’s different for him; he created this life for himself. He’s a collapsed star, a black hole of conspiracy and paranoia that sucks in everything that gets too close. The last thing he wants is for her to get lost in his darkness, swallowed by the void like some interstellar debris.

She’d told him that night in Rock Creek Park that she does’t blame him for what’s happened to her, but that doesn’t assuage his guilt. He carries the weight of what she calls her choices, a load she has no intention of sharing with him, awaiting no acknowledgement or thanks.

He’s doing it to himself.

Mulder whiles away the hours on the couch, gazing up at the constellations of pencil marks on his ceiling, tossing his basketball above his head. He drops it on his face twice.

He knows it’s probably only going to make him feel worse, but he’s a glutton for punishment; so at eleven-thirty that night he picks up the phone and calls Scully.

He waits for her to answer, his heart sinking lower with each ring. She’s not picking up. Is she still out? he thinks anxiously. The guy has a kid, so it’s unlikely that they’d stay out too late unless he’s arranged it with his babysitter…

“Hello?” Scully’s slightly husky voice cuts through his thoughts.

“Scully,” he says, tentative relief creeping into his body.

“Mulder, what is it?” she asks. “It’s late. For normal people, anyway. Are you alright?”

“‘M’ fine,” he assures he. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

He hears her hum in understanding. Late night phone calls between them aren’t uncommon, after all. “Have you tried counting sheep?” she asks, not unkindly. “Or slowing your breathing down, focusing on the cadence of inhales and exhales like I showed you?”

He’s wide awake, sitting upright on his couch, still in the slacks and wrinkled button-down he wore to the office that day. “Yes,” he lies. “It’s not helping. There’s too much going on in my head right now.”

“You work too much,” she says gently. “And yet not enough, when deadlines are involved. We’ve got an impressive paperwork backlog-”

“Can we not talk about work right now?” He reaches down and unties his shoes. “Otherwise I’ll never get to sleep.”

“Right.” There’s rustling on her end. She’s in bed, he realizes.

“Did I wake you, Scully?” he asks, trying to hide his surprise.

“It’s fine, Mulder, I was only dozing,” she replies.

“Oh, how was the date?” he asks, as though it only just occurred to him, instead of being the only thing he’s thought about all night.

“It was nice,” she responds, and he drops his head onto the back of the couch in defeat. Shit. Shit shit shit shit-

“We talked about medicine, about cancer, loss. His daughter’s name is Amanda,” she continues. “Her mother - his wife - died when Mandy was only two, so he’s mostly raised her alone.”

“That’s rough,” Mulder says softly. Please don’t make me feel bad for this guy, Scully, I can’t bear it, he thinks.

“Mhm,” she agrees. “And his work at the hospital is pretty grueling, so his mother helps out a lot. I… I told him about Emily.”

“How’d that go?” Mulder asks, concerned. “It’s not the most… plausible-sounding story.”

“I was vague,” she replies. “All I really said was that I had recently reconnected with a child I’d been separated from, right before she died. He didn’t ask for details; he could probably tell it was a fresh wound.”

They’re silent for a moment.

“Do you think you’ll see him again?” Mulder asks quietly. Somehow he already knows what she’s going to say, and he braces himself for the sting of her words as they pierce his heart.

“I… I think I will,” Scully says, sounding distant. “I mean, it’s worth a shot, right?”

She deserves this. She deserves a chance at something ordinary, safe, comfortable.

“Maggie Scully didn’t raise a quitter,” he says with a watery smile she’ll never see.

She chuckles. “No, I suppose she didn’t,” Scully muses. He hears her yawn. “I’m tired out, Mulder. Think you can sleep now?”

“I’ll try,” he says. He’s surprised to feel his eyes beginning to burn with unshed tears. “Thanks for talking to me,” he adds.

“Anytime. Sleep well,” she says warmly, and the line goes dead.

He supposes he brought this on himself by keeping his feelings hidden. He waited too long, playing it safe. He wanted to gauge her feelings before he made any overt moves, and someone else beat him to it.

It’s just one date. But there’s going to be more. By the sound of it, she wants there to be more.

There’s no way he’s going to sleep well tonight.

He’s in a sour mood when he’s summoned to the Gunmen’s… den? lair? headquarters? the next afternoon, by way of one of their patented cryptic phone calls.

Byers unfastens the dozen locks on the door and lets him inside. “Mulder,” he says, ushering him in. “Good to see you.”

Mulder flops down in a rickety desk chair, exhaustion permeating his muscles. “I’m not up for being social today, boys,” he warns. “You said you had information for me?”

“We took the liberty of looking into Agent Scully’s new… uh, friend,” Byers says.

“For safety reason,” Langly adds, seeing Mulder’s lips purse.

“She’s precious cargo,” Frohike says, wiggling his eyebrows.

“How did you find him?” Mulder asks. “I didn’t even know his first name until yesterday.”

“Don’t insult us with your surprise,” Frohike mutters. “We���re experts.”

“We knew he’s a part of the parish Scully attends-“ Byers begins.

“And we knew he’s an ER doc, has a 6 year old daughter, and a dead wife,” Langly cuts in. “That’s plenty to go on.”

“I don’t need to know more than that,” Mulder says, suddenly feeling guilty. “It’s not my business.”

“Maybe not, but we have the info,” Frohike says. “Look, all you need to know is that he seems legit. Name’s Einolander, if you were curious.”

“I wasn’t,” Mulder lies, taking a sunflower seed out of his pocket and biting it pensively.

“Of course not,” Byers says, sounding completely unconvinced.

“You alright, Mulder?” Langly asks. “You look rough.”

“Of course he does,” Frohike hisses in the least subtle whisper of all time. “Scully’s dating someone that’s not him. Cut the guy some slack.”

“You guys don’t know shit,” Mulder grumbles, then backtracks, running his hands over his face. “I’m sorry. I, uh... didn’t sleep well.”

“It’s okay, man,” Langly says.

Frohike nods sagely. ”We know how you feel about her. This can’t be easy for you.”

Mulder wilts in his chair. “How did you know?” he asks pathetically, realizing the jig is up. Has he really been so obvious this whole time? Fucking hell.

“Look, knowing things is our business,” Byers explains. “And we know you. We’ve been around the block with you a few times, and nobody’s meant this much to you. Not even Diana.”

“Plus, Agent Scully is a smokeshow, and you have eyes,” Frohike adds. Byers gives him a jab with his elbow. “Hey, I stand by that,” he declares, rubbing his arm.

“Well thanks anyway, fellas,” Mulder says, standing. “I should get going. The walls in my apartment won’t stare at themselves.”

“Do you want the file we put together on the guy?” Byers asks. “We can make copies.”

Mulder shakes his head. “Keep it. Draw a mustache on his photo or something.” He picks up his coat and slings it over his shoulder. “You kids have fun.”

“If you need anything, just flag us down,” Frohike says, patting Mulder’s back before unlatching the door.

Mulder steps out the door, then turns back. “How old is this guy?”

“Forty-one,” Byers says, flipping through the file. “Five-foot-ten, dark blond hair, brown eyes. Blood type-”

Mulder holds up a hand. “I don’t want to know. Bye, guys.”

He gets a petty, juvenile satisfaction from the fact that he’s two inches taller and four years younger than Dr. Einolander. It’s short-lived, but at this point he’ll take what he can get.

Because he can’t get Scully.

[puckrph]

‘ COYOTE STORIES ’  STARTERS

from the album by the crane wives. feel free to change pronouns, etc.

KEEP YOU SAFE

' when i was a child, my nerves ran wild. ' ' with the risk of fall, i never climbed at all. ' ' my daddy always said "nothing worth doing comes easy." ' ' time is not your friend. time is not your remedy. ' ' no amount of waiting will make you brave. no amount of fear will keep you safe. ' ' the older i get, the more fears i collect. ' ' i carry them with me. ' ' what if the steps i take turn out to be mistakes? ' ' how can somebody like me learn to say "come what may?" ' ' your fears won't keep you safe. '

THE MOON WILL SING

' i could have been anyone else before you made the choice for me. ' ' my feet knew the path we walked in the dark; i never gave a single thought to where it might lead. ' ' i made a bed with apathy. ' ' my heart knew the weight: ten years worth of dust and neglect. ' ' make your peace with weariness and let it be. ' ' i loved you like the sun. ' ' i loved you like the sun: bore the shadows that you made with no light of my own. ' ' i shine only with the light you gave me. ' ' we could have had anything else. instead, you hoarded all that's left of me. ' ' i want to feel the fire that was kept from me. '

ALLIES OR ENEMIES

' the words i speak are wildfires and weeds; they spread like some awful damn disease. ' ' i swear i didn't mean what i said. ' ' forget it all. you caught me in a moment, weak. ' ' sometimes i just can't help myself. ' ' are we allies or enemies? ' ' this will be the death of me. ' ' remember when i could tell you not to smile when you were mad, and you would always crack? and we'd both be laughing in the end? ' ' now, you're not so quick to forget. ' ' all's fair in love and war, but i can't fight with you anymore. ' ' what happens now ? ' ' i'll admit i've had my doubts, but i want to be let in, not out. '

UNRAVELING

' i once loved a tailor who took eager care of me. ' ' sew together my loose ends with stitches neat and clean. ' ' my love is gone and i am left unraveling. ' ' trim my weeds and give me room to grow my flowers again. ' ' i am left here, withering. ' ' sand my rough edges, craft new and lovely things. ' ' i can't help the fracturing. ' ' i never knew that i needed you. ' ' i once loved a man who kissed me once before he left. tied me up in knots and said he'd soon return again. '

HARD SELL

' i'm trying to make something of myself. ' ' i feel like i'm working with barbed wire and moth wings, cause i can't really get ahold of anything. ' ' i'm one deep breath away from a breakdown. ' ' the world is hostile, and i'm fragile, and i need someone to kiss the cuts and tell me to keep trying. ' ' does everybody have it together or are we all pretending? ' ' is it really just me holding it together with one loose string that i can't stop pulling? ' ' i rip myself apart at the seams. ' ' i find one weak spot and start unraveling, hoping i can find a better me, a fresh new start buried under me. ' ' can we stop pretending now? '

ROCKSLIDE

' i know you want to plant your feet, but we best get a move on. ' ' i pray today my soul to keep. ' ' drop dead sprint now, my darling. ' ' don't look back now. ' ' just try to breathe. ' ' the monster's coming, and it don't care for you or me. ' ' we best get a move on. '

METAPHOR

' i've gotten good at leaning on metaphors. ' ' i've gotten good at living on someone else's page. ' ' i cut my teeth on secondhand sentiments. ' ' you can't trust a single thing i say. ' ' i keep my closet free of skeletons because i'm much better at digging graves. ' ' i always dig up bones in your sympathy. ' ' i can't trust a single thing you say. ' ' don't look too hard, because you won't like the scars he left in me. ' ' i've gotten good at stretching the truth out of shape. ' ' all these words are sweet. and meaningless. '

THE HAND THAT FEEDS

' i've seen good men spoiled. ' ' their cries are a warning to everyone following. ' ' no man should stand to work all his days, and have nothing at the end of them. ' ' i've got no money but the change that jingles in my pockets. ' ' time? i am powerless to stop it. ' ' my papa was a howling man. ' ' my dear papa gave me lessons in regret. he said all that he'd done would be for nothing if i followed in his steps. ' ' my papa taught me how to hold, how to bare my teeth and growl. ' ' the hand that feeds deserves to be bitten when it beats. ' ' i may never be a rich man, but i can make sure that i am free. ' ' the rich man will never have me. '

LITTLE SOLDIERS

' it was a march towards ruin and despair, but we held hands all the while. ' ' i swear that i loved you. ' ' beneath the table, you would offer up my bones, and all the dogs would lick your fingers. ' ' i dragged you through every room inside our home, but you still held me at night. ' ' you still held me at night. ' ' i swear that you loved me. ' ' we didn't give up. ' ' we wouldn't dare surrender. ' ' it was an honest loss. ' ' i fought with tooth and nail before the flag had flown, but you were already gone. '

SLEEPING GIANTS

' i feel the mountains shifting under me. ' ' the sleeping giants are finally waking. ' ' my pulse is clear, rushing in my ears. ' ' i hear something calling me. ' ' the moon is humming lovely melodies. '

OF EVERLONG

' out of the ocean, over the harbor lay no sons and lay no daughters. ' ' it was there i wrote a sad, sad song. ' ' if my lover will not heed it, take my voice and take my spirit. ' ' only my lover, not i, can keep my soul. '

NEVER LOVE AN ANCHOR

' on some level, i think i always understood that these hands of mine were clumsy, not clever. ' ' i tried to do the best that i could. ' ' i couldn't bring myself to hold you. ' ' it's a secret i keep tucked inside my chest. ' ' this heart of mine is guilty, not remorseful. ' ' there is love that doesn't have a place to rest, but it would've buried you if it had settled on your shoulders. ' ' a ship can never really love an anchor, so i did the only thing that i could, and severed the rope to set you sailing from my harbor. ' ' there are times where i still wonder about you. ' ' you are someone i have loved, but never known. ' ' you'll never see the reasons i had for keeping my claws away when they were close enough to hurt you. ' ' i am selfish, i am broken, i am cruel. ' ' i am all the things they might have said to you. ' ' do you ever think of me, and my two hands? '

NEW DISCOVERY

' i want to stand on the edge of the water and see horizons stretch on forever. ' ' i want to know that there are lands not yet touched by human hands. ' ' i want to be the one to find them. ' ' i feel like i'm lost in a desert. ' ' these steps i take won't go to waste if i'm moving towards something. ' ' i want to believe there's something left for me. ' ' i want to kindle a love that doesn't age, even when all the years carve lines into your face. ' ' tell me i'll be surprised. ' ' i want you to prove me wrong. '

[purple-stuck]

I'm sorry that happened but at least now you know for future reference! I was hoping you could write purple Kankri trying to flirt with Cronus (key word being try assume it seems like purple Vantases are pretty intimidating) but if you don't like Cronkri (which is super fair!) would you please write about purple Kankri in general? c:

Cronus didn't even know why he still went to this bar in the first place.

The music was always pretty bad. Between hip hop artists who just said the same lines over and over again and rock and roll bands who could barely be heard over the sounds of their poorly tuned guitars, it was a miracle that any of these artists even managed to sell their music to this place in the first place. Credit where it was do, it did make him want to drink. Besides, if these guys could make careers out of their songs, there was still hope for him yet.

Cronus cast his gaze out to the bar around him, trying to push the negative thoughts from his mind. A good flirt should improve his mood, even if he knew he was likely to be rejected. His gaze honed in on a small bronze blood girl, sitting alone with three empty bottles littered beside her. Faygo, from the looks of it. Incredibly powerful for a non Purple Blood. Looks like someone could use a little company.

"Hey, doll." Cronus said, leaning seductively against the wall beside her. He figured he might as well take a note from Rufioh's playbook before he dropped the pick-up line. "Are you a math book? Because I take one look at you and think 'fuck me'."

The troll glared up at him dismissively, before craning her neck up even more. Her face twisted into an expression of terror as she looked behind him, before she quickly grabbed her empty bottles and hurried towards the door.

"What, hey! It wvasn't that bad of a line, wvas it?"

"Excuse me."

Cronus instinctively jumped at the sound and spun around to come face to chest with a lumbering highblood in a baggy purple sweater. He looked up to see Kankri Vantas leaning against the wall like he was, looking down at him with an unreadable expression covered in face paint. From this angle, Kankri's nubby horns were nigh invisible underneath that wild bush of untamable hair. Somehow, Kankri always looked like he'd never left his hive in his life.

"Oh, shit. Um, hey Kan. What are you doing here? This place really isn't your kind of scene."

Cronus never knew how to act around Kankri. If Kurloz was creepy, Kankri was genuinely intimidating, but unlike the mime, it was impossible to tell if he was doing it on purpose. Kankri seemed to exist inside of his own little world.

"Oh, my apologies. I didn't... trigger you, did I?"

...huh?

Kankri's eyebrow was wiggling, as if he was expecting Cronus to get something, but Cronus was just confused. "Um, no, I'm just confused. Why are you here?"

Kankri blinked, seemingly not expecting the question. "I don't see what's wrong with dropping by my brothers favorite bar." He glared at the juicebox in the corner. "Although, I expected your music taste to be better."

Cronus forced a laugh at that. "Heh, it's not really. I just go here whenever I hit a writer's block."

"But you're always here?"

"....Yeah." Cronus deflated. "Yeah, I am." He could never read Kankri. Anyone else and he'd swear they were mocking him with an exchange like that. Or at least teasing him. But you could never tell with Kankri.

The larger clown was so withdrawn and stoic. His every word was carefully, almost robotically chosen, like he was trying to carefully avoid possibly offending anyone. It was a strange contrast against how casual his words were and how irreverent clowns normal were. It put him right in the uncanny valley and his large size didn't help.

Kankri rested a hand on his shoulder, causing Cronus to freeze. The clown leaned over him like a robot trying to look casual. His back was perfectly straight, his grip was too tight, his posture was too perfect and tense even as he tried to unwind. It made Cronus' fins stand up on his face.

"Well, why don't we head somewhere more comfortable? Just the two of us."

....Wow.

If Cronus was talking to anyone else, he would swear he was being flirted with. But, Kankri didn't do flirting, so he was clearly just misreading signals here. Was this an attempt at being friendly? Mocking? Trying to get Cronus away from a "triggering" environment? Was Kankri trying to abduct him or something and Kurloz was waiting the back ally with a bag to drag him off to clown church in? This was all so surreal.

"Oh, no. You don't hawve to vworry about that. I don't drink so I can still vwalk back to my hiwve just fine."

Kankri shot him a weird look. Cronus thought he looked annoyed but that couldn't be it because Kankri didn't act like this when he was annoyed. Nornally, he just lectured whoever tried to bother him until they scuttled off slightly terrified.

The clown pulled a paper out of his pocket. Cronus could recognize some of Rufioh's handwriting on it as it unfolded, but that only confused him more. Kankri cleared his throat, cocked his hips, and pointed his fingers like Cronus did whenever he was about to deliver a particularly bad pickup line.

"Hey, doll. Does this place serve fish food? Because you look like a snack."

Awkward silence. Kankri's voice sounded even more robotic and forced than normal, which only made things more surreal.

"So, is this a caste outreach thing? I heard the Empress is havwing the more 'vwiolent' castes do that nowv."

Kankri starred blankly for a moment before consulting the paper again. After a quick skim, he reset his posture, crossing his arms and giving Cronus a toothy grin. Problem is, Kankri had the Kurloz problem where his smiles looked less like "hello friend" and more like "I'm going to eat your soul." Still, he was clearly trying.

"Hello, doll. Dat, er, pardon my language here, ass is looking fine."

Another awkward silence as Kankri waited for an answer. Cronus squirmed awkwardly. "So... this is a dare then? Did Meenah put you up to this?"

Kankri deflated with a sigh, ripping the paper up indifferently. It was weird to see his perfect posture slip, which was only punctuated by his words sounding less robotic and more genuinely annoyed. "Cronus, you really need to learn to take a hint."

Cronus stared as Kankri sulked out. "Uh, alright, bye then."

He quietly made his way back to his seat, aware that the whole bar was now staring at him. He picked up his guitar to distract himself. "You knovw something, bar keep? If I didn't knowv better, I'd say he vwas flirting wvith me right novw."

Thankfully, Cronus was too preoccupied with his guitar to notice the incredulous look the bartender was giving him.

[laurfilijames]

Wild Horses- Part 2 (Prequel to Slow Burn)

Pairing: Modern AU Fili x Female OC Prim

Words: 3682

Summary: Fili and Prim enjoy a night out with Kili and Tauriel playing pool and singing karaoke. Prim attempts to make Fili see how much she’s grown to care for and want him since they met a year ago, but something is holding Fili back.

Warnings: Rated M. Alcohol consumption, swearing. Mentions of intercourse. Discussions of masturbation. Unwanted advances. A punch and bloody nose/hand. Mentions of war/military/deployment. Slight dom/sub suggestion.

A/N: This was so enjoyable to write, I had so much fun building the dynamic between them and adding to that slow burn. But be warned, angst is ahead in the coming chapters!

The song that Prim sings is linked below if anyone wants to listen to really get a feel for the chapter. (The original song is by the Divinyls but I like this cover better).

Thank you again to @guardianofrivendell for editing, listening to my struggles and always giving wonderful advice and endless support!

—————

“It’s your round this time!” Prim whined.

“No, no, I got the last one remember? It’s definitely your round,” Fíli argued.

She did remember, she was just hoping he wouldn’t.

“Fine. I’ll make you a bet, whoever loses this game has to get the drinks,” Prim wagered.

“Deal!” Fíli moved around the pool table to line up his next shot. Before he did, he looked up at Prim and smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “But the loser also has to go up there and sing a song.”

“You bastard! You’re only betting that much because you know I’ll lose and you won’t have to sing.”

He grinned at her, amused at upping the stakes.

“Exactly,” he said, sinking his shot as he did.

Prim was awful at pool, leaving her questioning exactly why she would make a bet with him, knowing it would result in her buying the drinks and now apparently also singing a song in front of the entire bar.

She focused as she lined up her shot, praying she was successful in landing the ball in the intended pocket but faltered when she felt Fíli’s body cover hers from behind just as she attempted her hit, missing her shot completely and losing the game.

“See, you should’ve aimed more over there-,” Fíli teased, laughing as she whipped around and smacked him hard on the chest.

“I would’ve got that in if it wasn’t for you!”

He looked at her doubtfully, and although she was pissed at him for making her lose the game, she enjoyed the proximity of his body to hers. His hand remained on her waist in an almost claiming way, probably making them look like lovers to people who didn’t know them.

Prim reluctantly stepped out of his grasp and gave him the most devilish look she could as she walked over to the stage where the karaoke machine was set up. There were large speakers surrounding it and a single microphone standing in the middle, waiting for its next performer.

Prim couldn’t help but grin despite the embarrassment she felt, watching Fíli clap and hoot loudly at her as he leaned against the pool table, Kili and Tauriel following suit from the table where they sat.

She knew exactly which song she was going to sing, something that would hopefully turn Fíli on while also letting him know how she felt about him.

After spending so much time getting to know each other over the last year, Prim knew without a doubt that he was the only one she could ever want. Their relationship so far was effortless, friends who could make each other laugh and were able to share anything with each other, the good and the bad, all traced with whispers of an eagerness for more.

She adored his family and they welcomed her without hesitation as a part of their own. Prim especially admired the relationship between the two brothers, as well as the one they shared with Thorin.

It made her wish she could say the same about her own family, but this found family was all she needed.

And Fíli… Fíli was incredible. He still treated her as sweetly and with as much care as he had the day they met.

He evened her out. His calm manner balanced her fiery ways. Nobody else’s personality had ever complimented hers more and he made her feel instantly happy just by being in the same room.

So it didn’t come as a surprise to Prim when the inevitable happened: she fell in love with him.

But it was almost as if an unsaid agreement to take things slow stood between them, both of them knowing at some point they would be more than just friends, but Prim was growing increasingly impatient. She had often tried to hint that she wanted more, that she was ready to take it to the next level, but Fíli wasn’t budging. Maybe Prim wasn’t as conspicuous as she thought she was.

It was about time she started to make things a little more clear for him.

The music started up after she selected the song and she readied herself before the mic, willing courage from her three glasses of wine to grace her.

“I love myself

I want you to love me,”

The crowd erupted in cheers, realizing what she had selected.

“When I feel down

I want you above me

I search myself

I want you to find me

I forget myself

I want you to remind me,”

The look on Fíli’s face was priceless, full of surprise and curiosity and maybe even a hint of lust as he pushed his tongue in his bottom lip, so Prim continued, her eyes locked on his as she began to run her hands down her sides and over her breasts,

“I don’t want anybody else

When I think about you

I touch myself

Oh, I don’t want anybody else

Oh no, oh no, oh no,”

Encouragement from the crowd kept her going, but not as much as the expression on Fíli’s face did. Prim continued her seductive dance as she sang, carding her hands through her hair and down her neck to her chest, still managing to sing despite the huge grin on her face,

“I close my eyes

And see you before me

Think I would die

If you were to ignore me

A fool could see

Just how much I adore you

I’d get down on my knees

I’d do anything for you,”

When the song ended, Prim bowed to the standing ovation given to her by the entire bar. She hopped off the stage and walked back over to Fíli who was shaking his head in disbelief.

“Wow,” was all he managed to say, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead.

“I don’t think after that performance I should still shout the drinks,” she suggested.

“Um, no, that wasn’t the deal,” he corrected her, standing close enough she could see his pulse thumping in his neck. He stared at her like he was trying to figure out what she was up to, and also like he could kiss her. His eyes lingered on her lips as though he was about to consume them and Prim thought how she would sell her soul to have him do it.

Did he still not know how badly she wanted him?

With the adrenaline from her performance still coursing through her body, Prim was about to confess her feelings to Fíli. She wanted to tell him that the song was indeed dedicated to him, and that the lyrics applied to her when she thought about him, but was interrupted by Kili and Tauriel coming over to congratulate her.

“Prim you never cease to amaze me!” Kili said, gripping his hands on her shoulders from behind.

“I think you have every man in here worked up!” Tauriel added.

As appreciative as she was for their compliments, the only opinion she really cared about was Fíli’s.

“Yeah, you are incredible,” Fíli praised her, still regarding her peculiarly.

Her stomach flipped. He thought she was incredible, not just her karaoke skills.

“Oh, I had some inspiration,” Prim admitted, staring into Fíli’s eyes and willing him to figure out just how much she longed for him, but not able to say it with Kili and Tauriel standing beside them.

“Well, the drinks are on me!” she declared, walking over to the bar to complete her end of the bargain. Kili followed her, wanting to order food, or so he said. Kili had a tendency to get involved in things that weren’t necessarily his business, and whatever was happening between Fíli and Prim was no exception.

“I can’t help but feel like there were some underlying messages in your performance,” he inquired without looking at her.

“It was just a song, Kili,” she denied.

“Yeah, one about masturbating to thoughts of my brother!”

She looked at him fiercely. Was it so obvious to everyone but Fíli?

“See, you can’t even deny it!” he laughed.

“I’m not trying to deny anything,” she told him while peeling the label off of an empty beer bottle, beginning to get annoyed by his interrogation.

“Well, I bet he thinks of you whenever he touches himself,” Kili said point-blank, popping a chip in his mouth.

“Kili!” Prim said with alarm, smacking his shoulder. Although part of her did hope it was true.

Once Kili stopped laughing, Prim sighed and continued her thoughts out loud.

“It’s just so frustrating! I feel like I do everything but literally throw myself at him and nothing happens.” She placed money on the bar as the bartender handed her their drinks, “I just really care about him,” she admitted.

“I know you do. He knows you do- knows you love him even. He’s going to kill me for telling you but he does feel the same, he told me himself,” Kili explained.

Prim shot her head up to look at him, “You better not be joking right now, Kili,” being fully aware of the pranks he was capable of.

“I’m not, I swear!” he raised his hands in defence, and threw a quick look over his shoulder towards his brother before he continued, “He fancies you, he always has. That’s why he’s still single, and you are too, I reckon. You’re both just too stupid to do anything about it,”

“Oh, thanks for that,” Prim glared at him and took a chip from his plate, making Kili slide it closer to him protectively so she couldn’t steal any more of them.

“I’m not saying you’re stupid, Prim, but one of you needs to admit it or someone else is going to come along and ruin it. You see how women look at him,” he pointed out, and Prim’s heart sank at the thought.

Of course she saw how other women looked at him, and she couldn’t blame them. He was perfect.

Prim didn’t want anyone else and she hoped what Kili had said about Fíli’s feelings towards her were true. She grabbed the drinks and walked back to the table, her head reeling from the information.

Fíli beamed at her as she approached, his dimples revealing themselves beneath his facial hair, making her melt for him once again and forget the threat of anyone coming between them.

Fíli could hardly believe the act he’d just witnessed. He had run his hand over his face a few times to try and disguise his flush, beads of sweat appearing on his temples as he watched Prim’s risqué dance on stage, making him throb for her all over again.

He wondered if she truly felt what she’d sung in those lyrics, that she wanted him and only him, that she imagined him when she pleasured herself.

The thought alone drove him mad.

Her eyes had been locked on him the entire time she was up there, there was no disputing that.

Fíli enjoyed making her feel as frenzied and desperate as she made him, but it was getting increasingly difficult to keep resisting her. She knew how to play him as well.

And even though he really didn’t want to resist her anymore and simply give in to the yearning want, he knew he couldn’t. He shouldn’t.

Thorin and Kili were leading a special ops mission and although Fíli as a trainer was now exempt from having to deploy, he refused to sit at home while his uncle and brother went head first into danger.

He was going too.

Fíli had been deployed countless times since he was in his early twenties. He had seen battle and horrific things that people could never even begin to fathom. The thought of going to war again filled him with dread, but he needed to protect his family.

If he pursued things with Prim, he wouldn’t be able to stand being with her for such a short period of time and making her anxiously wait for him to get back. It would break both of them. It wouldn’t be fair to her, so they would just have to wait until this mission was over before they could give each other everything of themselves.

He watched her now as she leaned against the bar, talking and laughing with Tauriel, finding himself automatically mimicking every upturn of her mouth.

But her expression quickly changed when a man came up to her who was obviously a fan and hoping her words were directed at him. Prim politely shrugged him off, turning back to face Tauriel.

Fíli remained in his chair, carefully watching the interaction. He wouldn’t step in unless he needed to, and he prayed the idiot wouldn’t do anything stupid.

“That song was about me, wasn’t it doll,” the man slurred, stepping closer to her.

Prim laughed and said over her shoulder, “Don’t you wish,” and Fíli could tell the man was starting to get on her nerves.

It was difficult for Fíli to hear all that was being said, but the man seemed persistent in getting her attention. Prim said the odd thing to get him to leave her alone but tried her best to remain focused on Tauriel and ignore the pleas from the drunk.

Kili sat beside him and could see the fury rising up through his body. He patted Fíli on the back, “Easy brother,” he said, trying to assure him that she would be fine, knowing what damage Fíli could do to the other man if provoked.

It wasn’t until the man grabbed her ass and she flew around to punch him that Fíli stood from where he was seated and quickly made his way over. He knew Prim could hold her own, and judging by the way the guy was holding his bloody nose, she had done the job. Regardless, he needed to give this asshole a piece of his mind.

Fíli took hold of the man’s collar and held him upright after being folded over from Prim’s punch, his feet now barely touching the ground.

“Touch her or go near her again and you’ll regret ever laying eyes on her, mate,” Fíli spat in his face, his rage ready to erupt at any second.

The man nodded in a terrified manner, and scrambled away as soon as Fíli released him from his grip.

Fíli brushed his hair back out of his face and turned to Prim, who was shaking her hand out and looking slightly unsettled.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his anger now turned to worry, never wanting any harm to come to her.

“Yes, I’m fine. He’s just a prick.” She didn’t meet his eyes, her gaze cast down to observe the damage to her hand. Her knuckles were red and split from colliding with the man’s face and blood was beginning to creep up slowly.

Fíli took her hand in his and brushed his thumb lightly over her wounds before bringing his lips to kiss them gently.

The way she looked at him made his heart clench, almost like she was surprised at his affection towards her. He wanted to tell her he would do anything for her, would give her the world, and that it made him feel terrible that he allowed that guy to touch her like he did. But he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve stepped in sooner,” his voice full of regret at how he handled the situation.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Fi, you’re my hero,” she said with a mischievous look in her eye, her fire back and immediately replacing his anger and regret with desire for her.

“I can usually handle my own, but I don’t mind you protecting me,” she said playfully.

Her eyes were filled with lust as she looked up at him through her eyelashes, and he was reminded once again of what he wanted to do to her.

Before he acted on pressing his lips against hers, Fíli called to the bartender for some ice for her hand, as well as a shot of whisky for them both.

They all managed to enjoy the rest of the night, no one harassing Prim other than with lustful glances from multiple men, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was having too much fun and a good buzz was keeping the pain in her hand at bay.

She stuck close to Fíli, often touching him playfully on his arm or chest, and even occasionally on his thigh. Her hand landed there now, causing him to stop talking mid-sentence to look at her delicate fingers resting on his jeans.

Fuck, she was going to be the death of him.

His jaw hurt from clenching his teeth so much, a habit to keep his increasing thirst for her at bay.

The bar announced the last call, and they all were quite drunk aside from Fíli. He typically managed to stay sober whenever they went out, wanting to ensure they all got home safely and didn’t have to pay and wait for cabs to take them all to different places.

With Kili and Tauriel dropped off at Tauriel’s place, Fíli was now on his way to take Prim to her own apartment. She was definitely drunk, but not sloppy, in more of her usual flirtatious state that had tried to lure him into her bed on more than one occasion. Tonight was no exception.

She laughed as she fumbled with her keys in the door, dropping them onto the mat. Fíli stooped to pick them up and when he straightened himself Prim was leaning playfully against her door frame.

“You want me and it’s killing you,” she boldly stated, revealing a part of him that he wasn’t ready to divulge to her yet.

He shook his head and chuckled while he unlocked the door, not wanting to have this conversation with her now.

She waltzed in ahead of him, her body language full of confidence from the drinks she had consumed.

“Do you want a nightcap?” Prim asked, trying her best to get him to stay.

“No, thanks. I’m going to head out so you can get some sleep.” He had to fight to get the words out, wanting so badly to stay.

Prim squinted her eyes at him, annoyed at being rejected.

“Are you ever going to give me what I want, Fíli?” she asked, her voice laced with bitterness.

He couldn’t help but grin, desperately wanting to tell her just how badly he wanted her. How he wanted the same things as her. How easy it would be for him to roughly pull her pants down and slide into her, fucking her until she screamed his name over and over.

Especially when she acted like this.

He took a step toward her so he was hovering slightly above her body, and he saw the fearlessness in her eyes change to a softness, like she would submit to him in a second if given the chance.

“The problem is, Prim,” he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he stared into her, “If I kiss you now, I won’t be able to stop.”

She faltered for only a moment before lifting her chin up in an act to reinstate her poise.

“Then don’t stop,” she challenged him.

It took every fibre in his being to pull away from her, not wanting to do anything while she was under the influence of alcohol.

“No,” he shook his head and laughed when she threw her head back and growled in frustration.

“Why?” she snapped, her distaste at being rejected clear.

He never wanted to make her feel this way. She had to know she was his greatest desire, his biggest temptation.

Fíli remained in place, not daring to go close to her again.

“Because I want you to be fully aware when I do the things that I have planned for you.”

He watched her shift, his words sinking in and probably helping to sober her up. It was a promise of things to come. A hint at his intentions to explore her body.

“Are you good?” Fíli asked in a normal tone, needing to change the subject and wanting to make sure she was okay before he left.

“I’ll be good when you’re putting your hands all over me,” she countered, her voice raspy and still persistent in trying to get her way with him.

He chuckled at her determination, making his way to the door despite her wishes. She was relentless.

“Goodnight, Prim,” he called over his shoulder, not able to look at her knowing if he did she would draw him back inside.

He sat in his truck for a moment before driving away, his thoughts solely on how much he wished to tell her he wanted to be with her.

Fíli toyed with the idea of establishing the relationship with Prim anyway, being selfish for once in his life and indulging in her for whatever amount of time he could before he left, but quickly decided against it.

He loved Prim. And he only wanted to love her in the way she deserved, and loving her and then leaving her was not it.

He smiled at how easy it was for her to tempt him into almost doing things that were so out of his character. But once he was back home he would give in to anything and everything she offered, because fuck did he want to.

Fíli knew without a doubt that they would end up together someday, so what was waiting a couple of more months in the grand scheme of things? As far as he was concerned they had all the time in the world.

But right now all Fíli could think about was how Prim was probably getting into bed and fantasizing about him while she extinguished her fire, her hands exploring her own body in search of a high that one day would include him. He palmed at the growing tension in his pants, knowing that he was going home to do exactly the same.

—————

[mudpuddless]

"the bite in the night and the secret teeth society"

or: what happens when you put Bond in charge of coming up with names

wc: 1.504, vampire/werewolf/fae AU

Mallory was M. He had worked towards this for last twenty threee years, and now he was M and M was dead. the other M, the one that had been the face and soul of the title for so long now.

Mallory was late for his first official meeting. to be completely fair he had only just learned there was a meeting and it wasnt like he could make the elevator move any faster anyhow, so at least it wasn’t entirely his fault. miss moneypenny, his new secretary had just sent him a notification, even though he could have sworn there would be no meetings today, and he had been very sure. It would after all be his very first official meeting.

Mallory was stressed out because he was late for his very first official meeting but Mallory was also M, so it wasn't exactly a good look. He tried to think of something else, but the elevator pinged and the doors opened and Mallory took a deep, calming breath. He might be late, but he was also M, and he hadn’t come by the position by doing anything by halves.

Ten minutes later M was sitting in front of Q’s cluttered desk in a previously cluttered chair in a small, cluttered, office. One of the technicians had spotted him entering Q branch, quickly checked the time and guided him to the Quartermasters office. Which was, by the looks of it the smallest room in the entirety of Q branch, and also devoid of a Quartermaster. The tiny, nervous part of M was glad; he wasnt the last to arrive, so he really couldnt be blamed for not being here on time. M leaned back in his chair and occupied his time looking around the room. To him it seemed like a glorified storage space, the only difference being the desk, which was placed in the middle of the room instead of against a wall like one usually saw in a workspace.

M didnt notice someone had walked up behind him until the young man was already past him, dumping a stack of paper onto the desk. Right behind him was M’s new secretary, who somehow balanced four cups of coffee in her hands.

The young man, Q, as M now realised, huffed at the desk, and - M suspected - the mess, before falling backwards into his chair.

Miss moneypenny simply put down the cups of coffee on top of the stack of papers and pulled out a chair from under the desk. Q stencilled his fingers together, : » were still waiting on someone M. Apologies for the delay, but this is important.«

His tone indicated that while it was important it was also tedious.

The somewhat relaxed atmosphere charged as double oh seven - Bond, M remembered - stepped into the office with a loud smile on his face.

»Eve, Q, Mallory,« He nodded at each of them, »so sorry for the delay, my carriage driver didnt know the way«

For a moment Mallory wondered about the odd choice of words, except neither his secretary nor the quartermaster seemed very surprised.

Eve only took a sip of her coffee while Q rolled his eyes so far back it hurt to look at.

»Bond you’ve been using that excuse since the day I met you and its never once seemed believable. Now-»

Q picked up two of the remaining cups and handed one of them to Bond, who immediately pulled a small silver hip flask from his pocket. Mallory could feel the frown on his face form slowly as Bond slowly emptied the entire thing into his cup, before putting down the open flask on the desk in front of him and handing the cup to Mallory.

By now M felt his stare had become somewhat undignified, especially since neither of the others had raised a single eyebrow.

M accepted the cup before the silence in the room became suffocating and watched as Q handed double oh seven the other cup.

As the Quartermaster and Miss Moneypenny quickly drained their cups M barely took a sip but occupied his time watching Bond plop down on the tiny grey couch in the corner.

Finally the Quartermaster let out a long suffering sigh that was, in Mallory’s humble opinion, not appropriate for the situation at hand.

Q cleared his throat. »Gentlefolk. We have gathered here today to fullfill our sacred duty to inform M, of any and all hidden proceedings of MI6’s full scale of operation. Do you, Gareth Mallory, swear a sacred oath not to reveal these secrets to anyone under any circumstances.?«

M blinked. He wasn't sure if Q was serious, but he hadn't seemed like the kind of person to pull something like this.

Miss Moneypenny pointed her chin at the spiced cup in Mallory's hands.

»You should drink that, or you won't be M for much longer.«

M felt his eyebrows rise. »Are you threatening me?«

Eve raised single eyebrow and carefully balanced her cup on her thigh. »It would be terribly cliché of me to say I was merely stating facts, but it's not not like I'm lying so, no. We’re not threatening you. Sign the papers.«

»And why would I do that, after that …particular… statement?«

Double oh seven sat up straighter and M looked back towards Q quick enough to catch the warning flicker the quartermaster was throwing at bond. He sighed in reined compliance and relaxed in his chair.

»Why do you want me to sign then? I'm sorry but reading-»

He ran his thumb over the side of the stack, and checked the final page where a thin dotted line indicated the lack of a signature that he was apparently supposed to provide,

»- 598 pages of any contract is not quite what I would call entertaining.«

He smiled, only a hint of derision visible in his smile.

»Could you maybe be so kind and sum up what you expect me to sign here?«

Immediately the atmosphere changed. Bond was suddenly on the edge of his seat, a shallow smile distorting his features.

»This contract states, in not quite so many words, that you can never, in any way, tell anyone, living or dead what we-« he deliberately gestured around the room, encompassing the three of them.

»-would be legally obligated to tell you if if you do sign it.«

Mallory followed the gesture around the room; A secretary, the oldest double oh in service and a quartermaster young enough to fit in with university students.

To Mallory they didn't paint the most intimidating of pictures, even in their specific line of work.

»Essentially though, this stack of paper is what makes you M.«

Mallory felt his eyebrows climb up to his hairline. »So when you say youre starting facts when you said I wouldn’t be M if I didnt sign you meant that I literally have to sign this to assume the position?«

Bond smiled slyly. »Of course. What did you think It meant«

»also,« Q added pointedly »to become M you have to know what we will tell you. This rule was put in place for a reason - hundreds of years ago - so we really couldn't do anything about it, but since we are legally obligated to tell you, we put in a counter contract, which you are holding now.«

»Essentially, since we have to tell M our secret, M has to be someone who promised not to be a tattle tale, and to ensure that we combined the contracts of secrecy and appointment to office into one.« Moneypenny explained.

»I apologise for the paper mess« Bond smiled sweetly, relaxing into the couch.

»No you don't,« Q and Moneypenny answered in tandem, clearly annoyed.

The double-oh faux pouted »I do! It's hardly my best work. I've done better with less.«

Q squinted at him from behind his glasses and Eve snorted. Mallory felt like he was missing something essential. »You're a lawyer? I apologise, I have not yet had time to read your file-»

»No worries Mallory, I'm not. But I'm also not telling you anything ›till you sign.« Mallory smiled, trying to lighten the mood again. »Can you at least promise I'm not signing away my soul with this? I hardly have the time to read all of this right now.«

An uncomfortable silence spread around the room.

When Bond spoke his words were clearly carefully chosen and spoken slowly, enunciating each syllable perfectly. »I can promise you won't sell away your soul by signing this contract.«

For a second Mallory hesitated at the sheer gravitas of his words, before pulling out a pen and signing on the dotted line.

The other three smiled happily.

"Now," Moneypenny leaned forward. "You won't believe us, and thats fine. We'll make you believe."

Mallory had the feeling he'd just gotten pulled in a mess of extraordinary proportions.

[mosaicofdreamsanddragons]

Slow Fade

For @ninja-knox-ur-sox-off‘s pirate au.

Find on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27570436

It was the customer service that broke him.

That’s what Pigsy told MK when asked how he became the chef on a pirate crew, glaring at Tang who was muffling a laugh. It was a true statement.

But it also wasn’t.

Once, many years ago he’d had his own restaurant. It wasn’t much, just a noodle store by the docks, filled with the everyday bustle of sailors, merchants, and other such people a port town attracted. His customers had barely had the room to sit down on good days. But it had been his.

With the constant stream of ships brought many to his little stand hungry for something unlike the rations they’d lived off of on the sea, he was guaranteed at least a few people coming in even on his worst days. Even on days with low ship traffic, he’d always have at least one person in his store: Tang was a regular to put all regulars to shame, despite somehow never paying for his food.

He’d loved it, every part of it. So of course, it hadn’t lasted.

It had been a good day for customers. He’d actually had a line out the door and seating had been scarce. Tang still got in somehow chattering happily about the newest legend of the Monkey King. Pigsy’d had his hands full making noodles and busing tables as fast as one Pig could when he heard a commotion.

“A bowl of noodles. The best you have,” came a pompous voice. Pigsy glanced up to see a very well dressed man shove his way into the store, completely ignoring the line as he shoved his way into the counter.  

“We have a line,” said Pigsy.

“Excuse me?” the rich boy said. “I’m gracing your store because I’ve been told it’s got the best noodles this backwater island can give me. You should be grateful.”

“Grateful for business,” said Pigsy, “but in this backwater island we have things called lines. I simply do not have the room to seat you even if you were to be served now,” he waved his hand around the packed room. “That’s what a line is for.”

“Easily solved,” said the man. He turned to look directly at the customers seated at the high bar. It vacated. All but Tang. Sitting there calm as you please eating the noodles he always seemed to have but never seemed to pay for.

“Move,” the rich boy said. Tang didn’t even bother to look up from his bowl. The boy tried several more attempts to get Tangs attention, face turning a deeper and deeper shade of red until he’d shoved Tang bodily out of the chair.

Tang’s bowl had splattered all over the floor with a clang.

The boy sat down and turned his attention back towards the kitchen. “No problem,” he said before he realized the man he had been talking to was no longer present.

He didn’t even get a moment to register the location of the chef before Pigsy picked him bodily up and threw him from the shop unto the hard stone streets. The boy had been sputtering and yelling about vengeance before he’d left but not before yelling how Pigsy would regret this. It had been a sight Tang said. But Pigsy paid it no mind. He’d had more important things to deal with, like the rest of his customers. He hadn’t thought that boy a threat.

He’d been wrong.

The rich boy had turned out to be the new governor of the whole island. And apparently had nothing better to do then menace noodle shop owners.

Pigsy didn’t notice the drop in customers immediately. Ships still came and went bringing hungry sailors from far away. It wasn’t until a week later, when there had been no new ships coming in that he realized something.

There had been a lot less regulars.

He’d asked Tang if there was some event going on. Tang dropped his usual chatter about legendary pirates and sighed looking grimly at his reflection in his bowl. “I think they’re scared,” he said. “That boy you threw out? He was the new governor. In the last week he’s already dismissed and even executed people he dislikes. They say he’s cleaning up the rot of this town.”

“I fail to see what that has to do with me,” said Pigsy.

“You threw him out of the shop on his first day,” said Tang looking up to Pigsy, the glare of his glasses hiding his eyes, “Everyone things he’s going to come after you, to make a point about how he and by extension the empire are the power in this town.”

“If he really thinks he’s going to clean the corruption out of this town,” said Pigsy with a shrug. “Then he’s got better things to do beside pick on noodles shop owners.”

But that did not bring back his customers. With every new story about the new governor, he’d gotten less and less regulars. Worse was merchants were now deliberately not selling to him. The more honest ones told him he’d been blacklisted, and they just couldn’t afford drawing the ire of the governor and lose their businesses.

Then word started getting out to the sailors and soon even they weren’t coming to Pigsy’s shop. Tang would go out and try to catch them as they came off, directing them towards the stand but there were only so many he could catch, and soon after arrival those sailors would be greeted by gossip about the governor’s least favorite noodle shop.

Then the governor started banning people from going up to the sailors and solicitating them. He claimed it was a preventative measure against thieves. Tang said it was because he’d seen him win some customers over to Pigsy’s.

The only customer he had now was Tang. And it’s not like Tang had the money to keep the shop in business. Tang tried though, every day he’d come in with some new scheme or trick to pull in more customers but even that failed to fix the reality that was Pigsy’s ledger. With the amount of red in it, there really was only one thing left to do.

He plopped the noodle bowl down in front of Tang. “Eat up,” he said gruffly. “It’s on the house tonight.”

Tang looked up, “Pigsy, you can’t afford that.”

“Can’t afford it anyways,” he said. “I’ve been over the ledger. This is the last night we’ll be able to be open.”

Tang looked down at the bowl of noodles. Then he stood up. “If we’re going under,” he said. “Then we’re going to go under properly, with at least one customer.”

“Tang wait…” he called but it was to late. Tang had already stomped out the door with a determined look on his face.

Pigsy stared back down at the uneaten bowl of noodles. His last bowl, that he’d poured his heart and soul into, abandoned in an empty noodle store.

He should eat it, not let the last piece of his store sit on a counter getting cold. Tang would be out all night looking for customers that would never come and tomorrow they would close the shop. It would be a shame to waste it. This fancy meal he’d made for someone, anyone, else.

Eating it would mean he was truly out of business.

The bell of his shop chimed and Tang practically danced back in, trailed by a furry golden sailor. “Look what I found!” he said smugly. “A customer. One customer for our last night.”

The customer glanced around the room. “Nice place you have here,” he said and then his eyes fell on the bowl of noodles. “Already got my order up? Your service is amazing.”

Pigsy half expected Tang to protest when the customer sat down in his spot and ate the last bowl of noodles but instead he settled down next to him and called for some drinks. He starts to cheerfully regal their customer with tall tales of the legendary pirate captain the Monkey King. And Pigsy realized it had been a long time since he’d heard Tang tell any sort of story not tied to how he’d managed to get them customers today.

The stranger seemed to enjoy the tales almost more than Tang and the atmosphere of the little shop became warmer. Pigsy could almost pretend it was just any other late night before their troubles began.

The bell chimes again, and Pigsy looked up, half expecting another customer and wondering if he’d even have ingredients to make more noodles. But the man in question wasn’t here to eat. He glanced around the store with distain before saying, “Are you the owner of this establishment?”

“Yes,” said Pigsy, “What can I get for you?”

“You have received an invitation by the governor himself to join his kitchen staff,” he held out a paper to Pigsy. “Work begins at dawn.” Then he turned and walked out of the store only stopping at the door to say, “Don’t be late.”

“Promotion!” said the customer before he noticed grim look on Tang’s face.

“Don’t do it,” said Tang turning to face Pigsy. “That man hates you, he’s been trying to get rid of you for half a year!”

“I don’t exactly have much of a choice,” said Pigsy staring down at the empty sink. “I’ve checked around. No local business will hire me, to scared the governor will come after them. Short of getting on a ship, and all the ones that come through here are in his pocket and won’t let me on, this is the only option I have.”

“It’s a trap!” said Tang. “Either he’s going to make your life a living nightmare or he’s going to set you up for something worse!”

Pigsy closed his eyes. “I know,” he said. “But what else can I do?”

“Pigsy…,” began Tang.

“Excuse me,” he said and headed into the backroom. He needed time to confront his impending doom.

The next morning he arrived at the governor’s mansion’s kitchen entrance for work exactly fifteen minutes before dawn.

He was regulated to cleaning duty for a massive ball happening that night. That in itself wasn’t unusual, he was new after all, and it would be unlikely the cook would trust him with anything close to chopping for another year. But that set him on edge. The governor had systematically dismembered his business, his big finale couldn’t be something this normal.

So it didn’t really surprise him when he was bumped up from cleaning to serving for the party by special request of the governor himself.  

And it didn’t surprise him at all when said ball was filled with only the most annoying of party goers, who looked at service workers like they were the dirt beneath their shoes or furniture on the wall.

What did surprise him was Tang. Who had somehow gotten a job as a waiter.

“What are you doing here?’ he hissed at him.

Tang just flashed him a smile. “They were desperate for new help and I figured we’d go down together.” He leaned in and lowered his voice, “There’s one other thing…” He stopped suddenly and pulled himself away. “The governor’s coming. I’ve got to go. Don’t worry I got a plan.”

Pigsy watched his only ally in this world saunter off as the governor approached. He waltzed up with a lady on his arm and seemed content to hang out right next to where Pigsy was serving food and engage in conversation about how powerful he and his empire were and how those who lived here were nothing more than cultureless backwater fools who’d gotten to full of themselves after the last governor had been so lax…

Soon the governor ran out of people to talk to and turned to Pigsy, “Enjoying the new job I so generously provided?”

Pigsy kept his face neutral.

The governor leaned against the table between them. “You know, its polite to thank a new employer but I guess you wouldn’t know what was polite, given your general social awareness. You haven’t even apologized for how we met. Such rudeness. It’s understandable why you lost all your customers.”

Pigsy kept his face neutral.

“You must have relied on sailors for a good while there, as you held out longer than I expected once the townsfolk wised up. Honestly it has been infuriating trying to ruin you and that little friend of yours. But it doesn’t matter now does it? Now you’ve learned your place working for me.” Very slowly he raise his glass and dumped its contents onto Pigsy.

Pigsy kept his face neutral.

The governor smiled and then glanced off examining the now empty glass, until his eyes caught sight of Tang offering drinks to guests. “That little friend of yours, he’s a puzzle. I tried to scare him off but no no no, nothing seemed to faze him. Even offered him money to stop going to your store. And he refused. Something he desperately could not afford given his clothing or his previous lack of employment. How does a man such as him even stay fed anyways? Makes one wonder where the money comes from. Evidence enough for thievery. Men have been hanged for less…”

Pigsy’s neutral face cracked.

He wasn’t sure what he yelled at the man. He was certain it included a lot of very creative descriptors as all the anger that had been building towards this pompous petty child playing governor exited him at once. He shook the party to its very foundation and soon everyone was staring at them.

The governor was lying on the floor beside the upturned table when Pigsy’s head cleared. He seemed scared but he smiled up and Pigsy, “You are going to hang for this.”

Might as well go the full nine yards. Pigsy picked up one of the still full glasses and poured it on the governor.

“Might as well hang together then?” said a voice behind him. He turned to see Tang and the customer from last night, now dressed fancily with a mask, hat, and cutlass…the Monkey King, infamous pirate captain.

Before Pigsy could voice his shock at the situation or interrogate Tang, the Monkey King turned to the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I welcome you to the robbery tonight. Alas, I must be going as my ship departs on the hour. Do inform the rest of the navy their precious governor will be coming with me and not to fire lest they damage him. Now, I and my associates will be taking our leave.” He nodded to Tang who rushed forward to tie up the governor. Then he turned to Pigsy. “So what do you say? Care to join my crew as the new ships cook?”

Pigsy looked at Tang who was grinning, over to the tied up governor, and then back at the Monkey King. “As I’m currently out of employment at the moment,” he said, “such an offer sounds lovely.” Then he picked the governor up and followed the Monkey King out the hole that hadn’t been there before he’d started yelling.

Tang noticed his confusion and always down to explain something said, “You probably didn’t notice during all the yelling but we made the hole. Oh and we already loaded a ton of loot onto the ship but we have to hurry if we want to escape before the navy gets here. The Monkey King wasn’t originally going to rob the party for anything more than a hostage until he met us. We made this plan last night right after you got the letter…”

Pigsy stared at him, “This was your plan?”

Tang shrugged as they dashed onto a ship. The Monkey king headed over to the steering wheel, while Tang grabbed the ropes for the sails. “Joining the Monkey King’s Pirate Crew!” grinned Tang unable to contain his excitement, “the best plan I’ve ever made!”

“Grabbing the governor was his idea,” said the Monkey King from above.

Pigsy sighed and dropped the governor down onto the side of the boat. “What are we going to do with him once we’ve outrun the navy?”

“Well I was thinking you could come up with that,” said Tang. “He’s been bothering you and all.”

That was why three months later the governor was found seven islands over standing in a line that tracked back throughout the city. When asked how he’d gotten there he’d turned pale and muttered something incoherent about pirates and noodles.

[ettawritesnstudies]

A New Town

This is the wild result of Weswin and Alric taking over my brain for the night having me write 6 pages in under 2 hours. This scene will MAYBE be from Book 2 of the main Lacohe trilogy if I decide to keep it, but for now I wanted to share because I thought it was cool

1254 words. tw: depersonalization

While Weswin went to barter with the gatekeeper for entrance to the town, Alric wandered over to the notice board and gazed over the various flyers and posted warnings. He noticed one corner in particular – plastered with bounties for various criminals and highwaymen. He squinted at them in the red setting sunlight, searching for if any looked familiar, then glanced over his shoulder at his traveling companion. The red hair faded into an auburn and freckles disappeared as he approached. Alric blinked a couple of times to make sure he wasn’t imagining it. He ought to keep an eye on that one, to make sure he didn’t lose him the minute he wandered away. He was about to turn around to re-join Weswin when his partner shook hands with the guard and hurried over to the notice board, shoving their papers in his knapsack.

“We’re good to go in! He said that there’s a tavern in want of entertainment just a block off the main plaza. We can head there, and barter for lodging for the night.” He said, handing over the directions so that he could look them over.

“Sounds like a good a plan as any,” Alric mumbled, turning away from the board. Now, Weswin squinted at the posters over his shoulder.

“Are you wanted?” He asked.

Alric scoffed, “Not here, thank the gods.”

He’d be wanted by no-one but the mages, if they knew what he’d done.

“Where then?”

Alric started at that. He shot Weswin a scowl. “You shouldn’t ask about that so close to the guards,” he hissed, jerking his head back towards the gate.

“Aw, they don’t care. As long as you’re not their problem. Hell, if you ticked off the right people they might welcome you as a hero, fanfare and all.”

“And you’d know?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve been run out of….” He paused and counted on his fingers. “Six towns now. And treated like a prince in two. Not looking to improve that record though. The last one was a long time ago. I’ve gotten better at being inconspicuous.”

As he stood near Alric, his hair turned back to the jet black that it had been when they were alone together in the woods. He shrugged and shifted his lute onto his other shoulder.

Alric narrowed his eyes at that. “You’re not going to cause any problems, are you?”

“Only if you do. Then I’d want in on the fun.”

Alric rolled his eyes and stalked in the direction of the gate. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

Weswin followed him with a spring in his step. “I’ll pay if you tell me that story.”

“Not a chance.”

Weswin shrugged and whistled for Eep, who currently looked like a mouse. It scampered over and scrambled onto his boot. He bent to pick it up and plopped it comfortably in his vest pocket. Then they made their way into the city together. As they entered the throng of people, he pressed his lips into a thin line but said nothing.

“What should I call you?” Alric whispered as they passed through the crowded entry courtyard.

“Wait,” he whispered.

Alric nodded and continued, following the directions. Weswin trailed a half-step behind so he could keep an eye on his friend and not get lost in the business. City markets were both his blessing and his curse. He loved sitting amongst the people, watching their endless faces and mannerisms, imagining stories for each of them. He loved the way the different ways they talked, smiled, gestured. He loved the mothers trying to buy groceries as their children tugged at their skirts. He loved the shopkeepers selling a thousand different wares. He loved the way they haggled and complimented and lied through their teeth to make a sale. He loved the way the soldiers stood at attention for hours under the sun and the brief moments someone cracked their momentary sternness. He loved the way the elderly gathered around the central cistern to gossip and lecture and catch up on the good old days. He loved the beggars, waiting for charity and helping each other when they could. He loved the big stages for the orators who wove arguments with silver tongues, for the performs flipping and tumbling with no regard for their necks, for the musicians that would lighten everyone’s lives with a little song. He was all of these people, and they all were him. His breath mingled with his brethren, his footsteps combined with theirs to make the ground almost rumble, his heartbeat in time with the heartbeat of the city itself.

It was all a part of him but he would never be a part of their daily lives. He would never be the friendly face at the cistern, He would never be the one whose house you came to when you needed a spare cup of flour. Communities don’t tolerate a perpetual stranger. Too many years of heartbreak taught him that. He’d come with a gust of wind and he’d go with the next storm. That was the way of things. It stretched him thin and left him with a hollowness in his chest, an ache in his bones, and exhaustion that a night in the tavern could never truly take away. On his own, he could almost forget. But in the market, his soul was split among a million different lives.

He stopped and took it all in, eyes shut, feeling his magic stretch in every direction. It hurt. He wanted to enjoy this trip. Eep quivered in his pocket. You feel it too, don’t you?

A gentle nudge on his shoulder shook him out of his reverie, and he opened his eyes to see Alric peering at him with a concerned expression.

“Wes-“

“I’m ok.” He shook his head but didn’t attempt to move.

“Let’s get you out of here.”

“mmhmm.” What had that looked like to an outsider? He hoped he hadn’t worried his friend too much. Or scared him, for that matter. Alric didn’t say anything else on the matter. Instead, he took his elbow and steered him in the direction of a less-crowded side street. Weswin came to his senses as they approached the door of the tavern. This was where he could function. He pulled the papers from his sack. They were made out to Israa Hendry – the name he’d come up with at the gate.

“How close do I look to before?” He asked Alric.

“Black hair, not red. Still long, but straight now. Your nose is smaller too. I think you’re about the same height.”

“Close enough.”

“By what metric?”

“By the ‘the guard didn’t write any of that information on the papers, just the time we came in.’ metric. No ID, that means I can bluff.”

“You’re going to… bluff your way into buying a room?”

“Sure. It’s not like the barkeep is going to check this.”

“Wouldn’t it just be easier for me to make the transaction?”

“You playing?” Weswin asked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the lute. Alric frowned, then shook his head.

“Fine.”

“Didn’t you say you are wanted somewhere? I don’t suppose you’ve got a fake persona to use while we’re in town?”

“um…”

“Didn’t think so.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“Sure. Until then, let me do the acting. Besides, if anything goes wrong, nobody will notice me anyhow.”

Alric grumbled for a moment, then handed over the paper with a resigned look. Weswin beamed at him, and led the way into the tavern, showing no sign of the earlier lapse.

He hoped.

[jeongyunhoed]

You’re traveling to another dimension It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity It is the middle ground between light and shadow, Between science and superstition It ties between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge This is the dimension of imagination

An ATEEZ Twilight Zone!AU (masterlist here)

A/N: In time for Yuyu’s birthday. I actually kept putting this off because the episode this is based on creeped me out so much even the song in the episode creeped me out. 

Happy birthday to the tall care bear also known as the love of my life, Jeong Yunho!!!  

Listen to this song for the full effect. It’s the song from the episode. Trust me. It adds to the effect. 

T/W: Death. Enough said.

XV. Come Wander with Me (Yunho)

Noon. 

With a backpack and his recording device in hand, Jeong Yunho was walking through the forest. It was part of his so-called “soul-searching” trip before he had to get back to work. Yunho was a singer under an independent label, busking every now and then while landing televised gigs and online concerts. He was stuck in a rut, a songwriting rut, having been in creativity limbo for the past several months. Not a word, not a tune came into his head that he saw was good enough. He recalled the advice given to him by a nearby resident, which was to look for a man who owns a shop in the very forest he was traveling to, there would be his inspiration. 

Yunho was focused on getting an original song, in the hopes of coming back to the scene with a viral hit that would get him onto the more popular shows. It was always good to strive for more. He approached a clearing, finding a small shop. “Hongjoong’s Curio,” said the sign. It was an odd shop to look for a song in, but Yunho figured he’d take his chances. He had enough money to buy the rights. It looked like it hadn’t been renovated since the 1970s. Then again, Yunho knew better than to judge. Maybe the owner intended the shop to look that way. 

He stepped inside, the door ringing the bell above his head. Yunho saw that there was more to the shop than he thought. There were trinkets sold hanging from a papier-mache tree in one corner of the shop, vintage objects in another. “How may I help you?” A man with bright red hair stepped out from the backroom, his coveralls covered in small streaks of orange and white paint. 

Yunho blinked a few times as if to snap himself out of staring at his surroundings. “Oh, hi, I was told you sell a lot of things here, including songs?” He asked. 

“I do sell a lot of things here. Things that remind people of the past, things that say a lot about the present,” Hongjoong fiddled with the paintbrush in his hand. “...Things that could foretell the future…” 

“...Including songs, right?” 

“Oh yes, including songs,” Hongjoong nodded. 

“What kind of songs do you have?” 

“It depends on what you got in exchange.” 

Yunho took out a wad of bills from his pocket and set it down. “You can name your price, I’m sure I can pay for it.” 

Hongjoong stared at the bills and then at him, slowly shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t take your money.” 

“...Excuse me?” 

“I said I can’t take your money. You’ll have to look somewhere else. That’s all I can say,” He said, sliding the bills back to him. 

“But I’m offering you this much money for a song,” Yunho argued. 

“You can take your money elsewhere, as long as you’re here in my store, I can’t accept that. You’ve just wasted your time, I’m sorry,” Hongjoong said dismissively, returning to the backroom and closing the door. 

Yunho padded back outside, a slight gust of wind making him shiver. He turned on his heel to go back in the same direction he came from when he suddenly heard a humming. Yunho paused to listen, the humming became clearer until he realized it was someone singing from a distance, accompanied by a soft strumming of a guitar. He went in the other direction to find the voice, passing by a slab of rock close to the path in the woods, unaware that the slab of rock he passed by was a tombstone. 

Jeong Yunho, the Wandering Man. 

~

Yunho wandered through the forest, the voice becoming louder and clearer the more he traveled through. The voice was sweet-sounding, the song, a haunting masterpiece. If he managed to get the rights of the song, Yunho knew it would become a hit. 

“He said, come wander with me, love, come wander with me, away from this sad world, come wander with me,” the voice sang. 

Yunho nearly broke into a run as he looked for the singer, skidding to a halt when he approached the lake. He heard the same words again but this time, it was close by until he found who the voice belonged to. It was a young woman, sitting under a tree and playing the guitar, humming the same words as what he heard earlier. He carefully approached her. “Hello,” He said. 

The young woman looked up. She seemed to stare at him in familiarity until a small smile played across her features. “Hi,” she said quietly. 

“I could hear you singing from far away, that’s a beautiful voice you have,” Yunho said, taking another step forward. 

“Thank you,” She looked down at her guitar again. 

“It’s a beautiful song too.” 

The woman’s smile faded slightly. “...Thank you.” 

“Do you mind if I hear it again?” Yunho bent down. 

“...Okay,” She said, softly strumming the guitar. “He said, come wander with me, love, come wander with me, away from this sad world, come wander with me,” She sang. “He came from the sunset, he came from the sea, he came from my sorrow, and can love only me…” 

Yunho smiled as he listened to her sing and play. By the time she finished, she looked at him with that same look of familiarity again. “...Can-can I buy that song from you?” He said. “It’s a very beautiful song, everyone should hear it.” 

The woman shook her head. “The song isn’t for sale, I’m sorry,” She said. 

Yunho leaned over, tilting her chin up. “Are you sure it isn’t for sale?” He said, his tone honeyed. 

“Yes it’s not for sale,” She said softly. “It’s a song that needs to be earned,” She added, in an attempt to joke. 

He chuckled. “How can I earn it?” 

“You’ll have to love me,” She replied. He was quick to stifle his surprise. “Can you do that?” 

“I can, and you’ll have to love me too, can you do that?” Yunho nodded, and she did the same. “My name is Yunho, Jeong Yunho.” 

“Juhyun,” She replied, her cheeks heating up when he pressed a soft kiss to her lips. 

“What if you record just one part of the song for me?” He murmured against her lips. “So I can listen to it all the time if we’re apart? What do you think?” 

Juhyun smiled. “Okay,” She said. Yunho took out his recording device, keeping it close to her. “He said come wander with me, love, come wander with me, away from this sad world, come wander with me,” She sang. 

“He came from the sunset, he came from the sea, he came from my sorrow, and can love only me,” She continued. As Yunho sat beside her, recording the same lines and verses she sang, a woman in black was watching from the distance, having watched them all this time. 

“He sang of a sweet love, of dreams that would be, but I was sworn to another, and could never be free...” 

~ 

“The Choi men were brothers, four men strong and bold,” Juhyun hummed later that afternoon, Yunho resting his head on her lap. “And for one I was chosen, with my love still untold, they heard of the wanderer, they heard he loved me, they heard of…” 

“You really have a very beautiful voice,” He said, making her smile. 

“Hey!” 

Juhyun and Yunho looked up, a man appearing from the woods. Yunho noticed he was holding a rifle. “...San,” She said, looking petrified. 

“Word around here travels fast, this outsider is coming for my wife-to-be,” He said. “Wait ‘til my brothers hear about this.” 

Yunho got up. “Listen-” 

“Don’t you tell me to listen, you’re coming with me, my brothers will teach you a lesson-” The man pointed his rifle at him. 

“San! Please!” Juhyun cried out as Yunho resisted, the two men getting into a tussle, wrestling to get rid of the rifle until Yunho outmaneuvered him, sending the man known as San into the tree headfirst. 

San fell to the ground, and Juhyun bent down to check on him, staring in horror when she realized that he was dead. Yunho threw the rifle aside in horror, accidentally playing his recording device. “You killed Choi San, betrothed unto me, struck him down in his anger, under an old willow tree,” Juhyun’s voice could be heard, making the two of them exchange looks. The young woman looked shaken. “By the lake where our love dwelt, under the willow tree, you killed Choi San, under the old willow tree…” 

“What the-” Yunho stopped the recording, dropping the device. “Come on!” He took her hand, leading her out of the woods. 

“Yunho, please don’t leave! Please stay with me,” She said, almost pleading. 

“I can’t,” He stressed. “That guy is dead, it was an accident, I only meant to get rid of the rifle, he was going to shoot me, Juhyun…” 

“Still, please, please stay with me,” Juhyun pleaded. 

“I’m sorry Juhyun, I don’t think I can.” 

“They sought out their brother, and found him alone, they wept by the lakeside, for a boy hardly grown,” She broke into song, making him stare at her. “They wept by the lakeside, and vowed he must die, the wandering stranger…” 

Yunho broke away from her. “I have to leave. You can keep your song.” 

“Yunho, please don’t leave me!” Juhyun held onto him. “Things will be different this time, I know it, just please don’t leave me.” 

“This time? You mean this has happened to you before? You’ve lured other men with that song of yours, haven’t you?” 

“No!” She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “It’s always been you, Yunho, it has always been you.” 

“...No!” Yunho broke away from her, sprinting away. He needed to get away, he didn’t care about the song anymore. As he looked back, he nearly tripped and fell when he saw that Juhyun had changed. She was dressed in black, a black shawl over her head, face weathered and in tears. 

“Yunho! Yunho!” She cried out from the distance. “Yunho, it’s always been you!” 

Yunho kept going further back in the direction he remembered coming from. He could already hear the voices of San’s brothers from the distance as well. He stopped when he saw the shop once again and stepped inside. He needed to hide until they had gone. “I said your money’s not welcome here,” Hongjoong tried to send him back out. 

“No, no I’m not looking for a song, I just need to hide from the guys that were chasing me-” 

“You can’t hide here, get out!” Hongjoong tried to push him out of the store, only for Yunho to bash his head with the nearby saxophone. The shorter male fell to the floor, unconscious. 

The voices grew louder and Yunho squeezed through the array of musical instruments, hiding behind the drum set. His heart was pounding as he looked out at the entrance. They would be coming at any minute. 

Yunho tried to move but accidentally bumped a music box, making it play. The more he moved, it sent the other music boxes open and playing, the various tunes filling the shop. Yunho got up, stepping over the boxes in an attempt to move away, and before he knew it, three men that he knew were San’s brothers had arrived, all of them holding rifles. A gunshot later and Yunho fell to the floor.

[heliads]

Silent Treatment

Based on the request “racetrack x reader where they got into an argument, and y/n gives racer the silent treatment and he does all these things to impress her and begs her to talk to him. It can be a silly/fluffy/ or angst up to you!!❤️❤️”

masterlist

“Extra! Extra! House catches fire and burns down with an entire family inside- you heard it here!” As you shout headlines to the Manhattan streets, passersby turn to you, handing you their hard-earned coins to buy your ever-dwindling supply of newspapers.

You’ve been a newsie for months now, selling on the same street corner (it has the best assortment of rich folks strolling by) and always making a profit. Sure, sometimes the headlines you advertised weren’t exactly accurate, but did it really matter? Your customers’ money went to a good cause- feeding you and your friends. What more could you ask for?

Once all of your papes are gone, you clap your hands together in satisfaction and saunter briskly off down the street in search of a certain blue-eyed newsboy. You spy him after walking a few minutes, talking earnestly to a couple of wealthy girls. They’re oohing and aahing over his every word, and you grin to see your boyfriend embellishing his headlines just the same as anyone else. As you draw closer to the huddled group, though, your smile starts to slowly slip away.

You’re usually never one to get jealous- you know as well as anyone else that anyone selling papers usually has to flirt more than a little to sell to hard-to-convince customers. You’ve certainly done the same, but yet your heart does a sad little flip in your chest when you hear Race talking to the girls.

You try to push these thoughts out of your head. Race has been nothing but a loyal boyfriend, he would never do anything to hurt you. You paste on a smile and stroll up to Race and the girls, greeting them.

At the sight of you, the girls’ grins start to fall a little flat. Race notices this and turns up the charm even more, coaxing them to stay just a little longer. “Don’t pay attention to them, I believe we were in the middle of a most wonderful conversation. Y/N, don’t you have papes you need to sell?”

You bristle at the sound of Race’s words and can’t help a derisive laugh. “Already sold them all, thank you very much.” The girls notice the rising tension and press some coins into Racer’s hands, grabbing their papers and murmuring polite but quiet goodbyes as they leave.

Race turns to you in annoyance. “Thanks for getting rid of my best customers. They always pay me way more than anyone else, but I guess not today.” You stiffen at Race’s tone. “Well, I’m sorry to interrupt in your business dealings. I was just trying to talk to my boyfriend, but you seemed more than eager to shoo me away.” Race rolls his eyes. “Why are you being so dramatic? The second they saw you they got nervous, so I wanted you to leave. Is that too hard to understand?”

You glare at Race as a realization dawns on you. “You were embarrassed of me, weren’t you? You wanted me to leave because you didn’t want to be seen with me.” Race throws his hands in the air. “Y/N, what are you talking about? So what if I want to make a little more money than usual- is it really that hurtful?” You wrinkle your eyebrows in confusion. “You’re not going to deny it? You really are embarrassed of me?” Race groans. “Well, look at it this way. If you’re trying to sell to a rich customer, you want to seem like a friend of theirs, someone who could almost be at their level.”

You wince at that, and let your hurt expression be washed away by an ocean of calm, icy quiet. “Of course, I understand now. I’m sorry that I looked too much like a street rat that I would cost you your sales.” Race realizes he’s gone too far, and desperately tries to backpedal. “Y/N, I didn’t mean that. I love you, and I couldn’t ever be ashamed of you. I was just trying-” You cut him off icily. “It’s okay, Race. We all have to try our best to make the sales.” With that, you storm away from your boyfriend, ignoring his saddened calls to you. Time to give Race a taste of his own medicine.

You purposefully ignore Race for the rest of the day, taking great care to ensure that your paths don’t cross. You hang out with other friends instead of spending time with him, you eat your lukewarm scraps of a dinner early when you know he always eats late, and you can be overheard saying you were ‘just too tired’ to stay up and wait for him when you go to bed. You also get up early in the morning, making sure you beat him to the door so he can’t catch you alone when everyone else gets up.

There is one place you can’t avoid Race, though, and that’s in the line waiting for Weasel to give you your morning papers. You stand silently in the line, and don’t even look at him when he joins you and the other newsies. He walks quickly up to you. “Y/N, can we talk? I haven’t seen you since yesterday, and I’m really sorry.” You say nothing, standing motionless as if he wasn’t there at all. “Y/N? I know you can hear me!” You continue to pretend he isn’t there, and eventually he walks away to join the end of the line, but not before telling you that “This isn’t funny” and “I’m trying to apologize, why are you doing this?” Once you’re sure he can’t see your face, you let a grin slip across your face at his outraged expression.

Race tries to talk to you again when you’re out selling papes. You’ve just finished another sale, and have stopped moving to pocket a few coins from an elderly gentleman when Race runs up to you. “Y/N, can you please just listen to me? I didn’t mean what I said yesterday.” You just ignore him, no matter how insistent he is. When he runs in front of you, trying to force you to look at him, you just gaze ahead with a vacant stare as if he was never there at all. “Y/N!” At last you speak, and Race looks hopeful when you open your mouth. 

“Can I interest you in the morning paper, sir? The banks are deciding on new interest rates and they’re just awful!” Race’s face drops when he realizes you’re addressing a man a few feet behind him. You complete your transaction, doing your best to maintain a straight face while watching Race pout in the background. The gentleman buying your paper notices him and turns back to you. “You might want to find a new selling partner, you know. This one seems rather downcast.” You grin at the man. “I know, right? That’s why I’ve chosen to sell alone.”

Race glares at you once the man walks away. “What was that about? I know you can hear me, so stop ignoring me!” When you say nothing, he fixes you with a conniving stare. “If you won’t talk to me, I’ll find a way to make you do it.” With that, he struts off in the opposite direction, clearly hatching some plan that will probably end in him embarrassing himself on the streets of Manhattan.

When Race returns, he’s holding his bag of newspapers, which looks oddly lumpy, as if he’s stuffed several things in it. You’re intrigued, of course, but maintain your silence and continue to stand on your street corner. Race makes his move shortly after coming back- you’ve just started moving towards a potential buyer when Race jogs over and beats you to it, quickly hawking headlines at the passerby and earning himself a few coins in the process. You’re annoyed that he’s stolen your customer, but you still say nothing.

Race does this for not one but two more people, each time making sure you get the perfect view of the customers he’s stealing from you. After every sale, he glances back at you with a triumphant expression, which falls a little flat when he realizes that you’re still holding to your vindictive silent treatment. Eventually, he gets bored of this and walks quickly over to you, digging into his bag and pulling out two steaming hot fresh buns from the bakery.

This is a new challenge- it’s a crisp morning and the bread smells absolutely delicious. You force yourself to keep ignoring your boyfriend, reminding yourself that this is punishing him, not you. You can’t deny that it’s killing you to not accept this particular olive branch, especially when Race shrugs his shoulders and eats his bread right next to you, smirking victoriously when he hears your stomach rumble.

Race’s next attempt to break your silence is a more romantic approach- he disappears for a few seconds and then jogs back, holding a pretty yellow flower he’s picked from some unlucky soul’s garden. He considers you for a second, and then tucks the flower behind your ear. You don’t move a muscle, but he still beams at you. “You know, you can’t get rid of the flower, Y/N. If you take it out it means that you acknowledge that I put it there and you would be getting rid of your whole ‘ice queen’ aura just for a flower’.

You groan inwardly. Why does he have to add rules about the flower? This is supposed you be your silent treatment, not his. Race studies the sight of you and his flower and leans in close to kiss your cheek before dashing away. This time, you’re grateful he’s left- the blush spreading over your cheeks is a clear sign that you know he’s there.

Race doesn’t come back for a while. In fact, it’s been a few hours since he had left, and you’re feeling more than a little disappointed. Has he really given up on you so quickly? You thought he’d have tried a few more times to get your attention. Maybe he just didn’t care that much. You feel your heart sinking at your thoughts. He does love you, right? 

To distract yourself, you start moving again. You sell a paper to a man across the street, then cut back around a few corners to get a change of scene. Just as you’re walking past the opening of an alley, a hand reaches out and wraps around your waist, pulling you away from the streets and into the darkened backstreet.

You start to scream, but a hand quickly closes on your mouth, silencing you. You whirl around to see your attempted kidnapper- and are enraged to see Race holding you tight.

“What was that supposed to be? Are you trying to give me a heart attack? I thought someone was trying to kill me!” Race just beams at you, and you look at him in angry confusion. “Why do you look so happy?” Race laughs. “You’re talking to me again.” You look up at him, mystified. “Did you really try to kidnap me so I’d stop ignoring you?”

Now that your heartbeat has stopped spiking and your silent treatment has ended, Race wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. “I needed a way to make you talk to me again. Nothing else was working, and I need you.” You roll your eyes, but can’t help but laugh. “You are ridiculous, Racetrack.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Maybe so, but it was worth it to have you back. I don’t like it when you ignore me, you know.”

 You smile up at him. “I don’t like not talking to you, either. I feel like it was harder on me than it was on you.” Race kisses you one last time, then guides you out of the alley and back into the Manhattan sunshine. “Let’s never try to avoid each other again, shall we?” You nod in agreement. “Never again.”

[djarinsidebitch]

Mandalorian & Flyboy

A/N: yes I know that other Mandalorians can take their helmet off but lets just say that reader cannot  Word count: 3.4k

As the war against the first order dragged on rumors about where the information gained on the first order started to pop up. When communication officers let it loose that there hasn't been any major intelligence missions in over 6 months. Rumors of a spy in such deep cover that the resistance cant even know, others of the information being bought from outside sources, Poe himself is caught listening into the base gossip. When he asks Leia she just shrugs it off going back to the task at hand. If he didnt know how good of a lier the General is he would have just let is slide, he kinda did shaking off anyone who asked the elite Commander what he thought just continuing with missions ‘The information isn't putting us in danger so why think about it’ he remembers remarking to a group of newer pilots when they again were asking about the rumors.

The idea almost completely left his mind when he caught a glimpse of Painted Beskar retreating into the forest from a back entrance of the hangar where he was working on small repairs to his x wing, it took a few seconds for him to process what he saw, or thought he saw; A Mandalorian some of the best warriors in the galaxy but very few are left they have become more of myth some believing that they are all gone. A possible mandalorian sneaking out of the base… the General. “Fuck!” he exclaims shooting up running to the general’s quarters expecting to see the worst he burst in only to see the General looking over a data pad  “poe is there a reason you are bursting into my quarters at this hour?” she asks he sputters “I-I there was someone who left your quarters that i had never seen before” he breathes out putting his hands on his waist “I wanted to make sure you were ok” he nods  now feeling slightly embarrassed “Poe no one was in here, get some sleep you have been working to hard” leia says calmly shooting poe from her quarters.

Poe left to his own quarters even more confused he could have sworn that he saw someone, something, leave from the base but tried to put it to the back of his brain ‘I am just tired’ he repeats in his mind going through the motions to go to sleep; which is just pulling off his clothes throwing them over on a chair in his room then flopping onto his bed. He fell asleep but it was almost like his head just hit the pillow when the morning call came out over the loudspeaker waking him up. He goes through the motions of getting up and ready BB-8 rolling around waiting for Poe, as a commander he was ordered to a mission briefing it was based on new information on trade routes used by the first order. Hearing this poem\ is thinking again about what he saw last night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Poe decided that he wanted to get to the end of this person that has been in his mind, once a week he watched from behind his X-wing when a Mandalorian snuck into base went to where the general’s quarters where for about an hour then would sneak back out. Then the next day he would have a meeting about new information on a different topic. He finally had enough after a month and a half of watching the Mandalorian in there painted and dirty beskar mysteriously come and go in the base he went to the leia to get answers without starting even more rumors not everyone like mandalorians seeing them as brutish or savage like bounty hunters who care on of credits.

After a mission brief he stayed behind as everyone except Leia left “General” he asked, gaining her attention from the holotable “Yes Poe is there something you need?” “Well yes, who is the Mandalorian I keep seeing leave the base” he cringed at himself at being so brash. Leia let out a sigh shaking her head slightly “it seems you met my new opritave” “He is resistance?” “SHE is a bounty hunter and informative as to what is going on in the underworld” leia explains briefly not giving up to much information “Why work with bounty Hunters how do we know she isn't just selling our information to the first order” he responds confused “the first order along with the empire killed off most of the mandalorians and mandalore, those who survived mostly don't want to work for the first order unless they really need the credits. And i know her she may be in a dark line of work but her heart is true” leia turns off the holotable going to leave the conference room also leaving poe with new questions ‘why are you helping the resistance; how much are you getting paid’ the resistance already has low funding so how are you getting paid at all ‘have you done anything else than just gain information for the resistance' poe  could feel himself get frustrated with this and mentaly decides that he is going to talk to the Mandalorian and get some answers.

When it came time for your weekly meeting with Leia you transferred the information into her data terminal while chatting with the general, more like she talked and you listened, nodded or gave small replies. As you leave the hairs on the back of your neck standing up, someone is near, your strides pick up slightly leaving the base of your ship. Taking the long way to your ship you catch a glance of someone following you so hiding behind a tree waiting for the assailant to walk past you, just like baiting a trap he walks past you and in and instant you grab him putting the man into a choke hold while holding your trusted baster to the side of his head.

“Why are you following me” The distorted voice grunts through her helmet, poe puts his hands up in surrender “I just want to talk i've been watching you come and go and i just want to know who you were” he chokes out looking in his peripheral vision and is met with an emotionless visor staring back. You losen the grip on his neck dropping your arm but only to search his body for a blaster “i didnt come armed im not stupid your a madalorian” a dejected sigh is herd through the helmet as you go to sit om a fallen tree and motions with your blaster towards a stump near her. Poe gets the message and sits there is a silence when she finally takes a deep breath “i you are just going to stare i have better things to do”   “Wait not, shit ok, i'll just be straight forward, Why are you helping us, the resistance; bounty hunter normally don't care about any of this just about what keeps their pockets filled”  You are visibly irritated by the off hand comment about bounty hunters “I am not most Bounty hunters, but it seems you are like most flyboys nothing more than moof milkers who think just because they can fly a star fighter they are important” The mandalorian stands holstering her blaster “be glad i didn't put a hole in you fly boy” You growl out stomping away to your ship.

Poe sat there cursing himself he just insulted a mandalorian, not just any a really hot, resistance fighting Mandalorian “leia is going to kill me”

Poe thought it was safest to stop watching you when you came to the base not wanting to anger you more. Until he was asked to meet with Leia on the day you make your drops. He knew it wouldn't be good so when he walked in to see the general and you sitting there you more just leaning against the wall your visor felt like it was staring into his soul “Poe i thought you should properly meet our friend after your stint in the woods” she says almost standing between the two of them “how?”  “I told her moof milker” You snear “(Y/n)” Leia scolds the mandalorian. “If you are going to be so interested in my dealings enough to follow her to her ship you might as well know who she is to the resistance” she continues  “(Y/N) here is a bounty hunter and spy for the resistance her father helped with taking out groups of imperial loyalist shortly after the fall of the empire.” as she started talking about her past briefly he looked over her leaning form her armor had blue grey paint over parts of her helmet, her shoulder pauldron had a mud horn on it, the rest of her armor was silver beskar that was slightly worn from years of use and he can see the top of a pack that matched the silver beskar partially covered but and small cape. “She is here to help us gain information on the first order without having to put our numbers at more risk, she can get more done than a full squad of fighters can and we don't have the numbers anymore.”  “I can also get places you can’t” you grunt out and stands walking over to stand in front of poe looking him up and down behind your helmet and thinking ‘he isn't to bad looking’ “(Y/N) Djarin” you sat curtly “since you are so interested in my work why don't you join the general in my drops” poe can hear the smirk that is placed on your face before you walk out of the room surprisingly quiet for how much armor you are wearing he stared as you left amazing by your voice and thinking over your name in his head “Close your mouth dameron before you catch flies; you are dismissed” she calls out to the dazed pilot shaking her head. Poe just nodded taking a deep breath walking to his quarters BB-8 was waiting outside of the door waiting for his master “Hey buddy” he starts to talk about you to his little buddy “an her name- buddy her name is so pretty” he says dreamyly

Over the next few week he started going to meet the general and (Y/N) he even started to talk to her outside of the meetings walking back to her ship and a few transmissions here and there at first it was just him rambling and you putting your input in here and there but as you got closer you started opening up your family growing up losing your mother at a young age and traveling with your older yet younger brother and father then when he settled down and took off the helmet for good and you put it on changing some things slightly. Talking about visits to your dad and brother between work was the thing that got you really talking, only stopping when you realized you had reached your shipe 5 minutes ago. Poe found out that for a scary bounty hunter you are a dork and he loves it when you realize you have no idea how to truly socialize with anyone that isn't your family or poe. He prides himself on the small chuckles and breathy laughs he can get out of you. If he didn't know better he would think that this flyboy had a shot with this badass woman he has fallen for following her around like a lost dog whenever he could.

You had started to come to base more than just once a week for Poe so when you and him out in the forest surrounding the base and you both hear explosions and the tell tale signs of Tie’s you both jump up running towards the base. It is the First Order they found the base and was able to surprise attack the base X-wings were already scrambling to get in the air. Poe calls for BB-8 while running to his X-wing jumping in getting into the air.

Stormtrooper transport land and whole battalions of troopers unload the battle is in the air and on land You use your two blasters and jet pack to take out hoards of troopers. Once landing you hold out your arm activating your vambrace flamethrower keeping the troopers away from you one shoots you the blaster deflecting off of your shoulder pauldron then you deliver a front kick to another while almost nonchalantly shooting two more troopers. Over the speakers a coded message rings out that was the message to retreat most officers fall back to get onto transports and get hasmany supplies and important information as possible. You try to give as much time as possible to the resistance to get to safety you picks up a larger blaster that one of the dead troopers had and used to to hit more enemies as possible you watch out of the corner of your eye three tie fighters chasing a familiar Black and orange X-wing before the Ties shot it down and it goes down into the forest “No!” you yell, shooting the last troopers she can and take off running towards the towers of smoke rising in the trees.

You run as fast as possible to the crash site hoping Poe is ok. When you get there it is not a pretty sight flames almost cover the entire ship you pull open the cockpit and your eyes widen poe is limp in his seat you pull out your vibro blade form your boot using it to cut him out of his harness pulling him out of the wreckage and presses the button to release his droid pulling him as far from the wreckage right before the ship blows and you cover his body with yours grimacing as shrapnel imbeds itself into the spaces between the plates of armor. Once the explosion stops and it's safe you look down at poe blood blossoming on his abdomen and body “poe” you call out trying to shake him awake; he just shakes limply under your hands you reach to feel a pulse but you can't sense anything “No Poe wake up” you call out tears welling in your eyes blurring your vision “It's not funny poe come on wake up” your voice breaks and you try to do chest compressions anything but nothing changes. BB-8 watches as you try to recestate Poe and responds with sad beeps missing his master. You ripp of the helmet and you feel like it's suffocating you as tears stream down your face mixing with the dirt and sweat on your face. You have felt pain but nothing like this sobs rake your body shaking with pain gripping onto poe “You- You can't do this to be dameron, you can't leave me now” you are blubbering now not caring if any one sees you it feels like a part of you had died.

“You- Fuck- Your so beautiful even- e-even with tears” Poe rasps out barley awake staring at your face contort to confustion then passing back out.

Hearing him makes you jump up grabbing your helmet, slipping it on and then picking up poe running calling out to BB-8 “Come on we gotta get back to my ship!” You  jump over logs, adrenaline coursing through your veins pushing your body to its limits, not caring how much you are gonna hurt in a few hours, just focused on saving power. You see your ship and slow reaching to press the button on your brace to open the cargo door and run up the ramp placing him on the floor knowing it's not the most comfortable but not caring, pulling your helmet back off you rush to grab the box filled with medical supplies and pulling out bacta patches, stim shots, and the emergency cauterizer.  

You pull off his tsttered clothes striping him down to just boxers and looks for the worst wounds on his abdomen and thigh injecting a stim shot then going in with the cauterizer working on shutting the wounds glad that he wasn't awake for this part the smell of blood and burning skin isn't new to you but knowing it's him makes you sick but once you sealed all the major wounds you placed bacta patches on them then using bacta spray on everyone else. You sit there for a second looking over your work then staring at his face it looks calm but it doesn't have the wrinkles from his smiles or the look in his eyes what she watches from behind her visor so seeing it without it is something else. Her com link in her brace goes off and she scrambles to grabs her helmet then connecting, a relieved sigh leaves her mouth it was leia “I'm glad you made it” leia says with somber undertones “(Y/N) i'm sorry to say but we haven't been able to contact dameron he was the only pilot we can't account for he might not have made it” she says sadly he was like another song to her leia was keeping it together for the sake of the resistance “i know he got shot down by three tie i was able to get him and BB-8 out before his ship exploded “ she explained and watched as a new hope filled the general’s eyes “that is amazing how is he’ you sigh looking down at poe now noticing the slight rise and fall of his chest “ he is knocked out now but once he wakes up i will know more” she explains “How did they find you” You ask now no emotion present in your voice back to being a mandalorian  “i don't know we are trying to figure that out but for now get off world and lay low until we can find a new base” Leia says with a sigh “take care of him ok” you nod “always” you sign off and go back to poe looking over him before getting into the cockpit of your own ship and old imperial command ship you had found for cheap and fixed up yourself. Once in hyperspace you come back out to see poe stirring, you quickly kneel down next to him as he opens his eyes “where am i” he looks around frantically until he sees you “(Y/N) he says softly reaching for you “what happened” he asks “you where shot down; i got there just in time before your ship exploded” you explain watching as he grabs onto the bottom of your helmet “i- i saw your face” he says almost unsure “i thought i lost you; you weren't breathing you were gone” your vision went blurry whether that was from tears or the blood loss of your untreated wounds you didn't care and neither did poe as he lifts up your helmet slowly almost waiting for you to stop him… you don't he drops it with a clang and sits up you are quick to help him. He takes your face in his hands staring at you with so much love and emotion in his eyes that he starts crying also “you are so beautiful” he whispers leaning in to kiss you; you meet half way and the kiss is explosive full of passion and sorrow for what could have been lost he moves his hands down the side of your neck to the back pulling you in closer your hands hold onto his cheeksIt is not a pretty kiss it is dirty and sweaty your tears mixing on your cheeks at they are pressed together, the only reason you separate is to breath and even then your foreheads are touching “you are the first person other than my family that has seen my face since i was 11” you whisper out looking deep into his eyes. He smiles rubbing soft circles into the sides of your face “I'm glad you are just so beautiful. I love you so much, i have fora while you are so complex in all the best ways you are anamazing warrior badass in every way but so soft spoken adn dorky i would die a thousand times if it means i can see your face” he confesses tears start filling your eyes again and his voice breaks with emotion “I love you too, your snarky hummor and being dumb enough to follow a mandalorian in the woods; i knew you were the one and as long as  i am arround you are not dying” she responds softly leaning in again to kiss him. Maybe it wasn't horrible that one person saw her face.

[otherworldly-healer]

Challenge Part 1 [Preparation for Battle, Raine & Mariela] [~2530 Words]

It was well after dark at Sunlight’s Canopy. Oil lamps scattered around the room cast an eerie orange glow across the walls. Raine had called in a favor. She sat at a table alone, staring out onto the streets of Golden while she waited for the owner of the shop to enter the room. The half elf was listless. She was feeling so many things at the moment that her emotions sort of just…shut down on her. Clouds overtook the city that night, and rain thrummed on the window as her coffee grew cold on the table in front of her. A storm again, huh? Raine was transported back to that night when the full moon rose above stone plinths, changing her life forever. She could feel a chill run up her spine.

It started on the Spirale University campus. She overheard a group of students whispering rumors about two people trapped out in The Mistwood trying to leave the city. At first she thought it was just another newcomer to the city who got lost on their way exploring. It happened often enough. It wasn’t that strange. They would learn soon enough that in walking past the edge of the barrier that there was no escape. But… the rumors didn’t stop there. 

As she was making her way across campus later that day she overheard more chatter. One of the two people was supposedly an elven woman with long silver hair, wearing a coat of green cloth. The other was a human man with light-brown hair. They had been seen traveling the solitary stretch of road between Cotes and The Mistwood, then turning into the woods together. There were too many coincidences there to make her feel comfortable. If it was them… they would never make it out alive. Her mother couldn’t fight. Her father was only one man, and while he knew useful medical skills and his way around a sword,  in the past he always had a company with him in the Knights.

After Grimm had told her that the Stars had his son, it wasn’t unthinkable that they had Raine’s parents as well. Just like when she had to protect a younger version of herself and Genis, it was almost as if the Stars had set that up as a practice for this main event. They were toying with her again. She had gotten too comfortable here. She had to be reminded never to let down her guard. How could she catch herself slipping like that? That’s right…no place was ever safe for very long for the Sages. Trouble followed them wherever they went. As they could always count on the dawn, they could also anticipate dusk. For Raine, she never knew what dangers lurked there, but she always knew that it was inevitable that in time some monster would rear its head.

“Heeey. Sorry it took so long. I wish I could do more for you but…this is all I’ve got to spare right now.” Mariela walked in from the back of the apothecary, lugging a box filled with potion vials and round capsules.

“No, it’s fine. I know we’ve all been weakened here. Any help is appreciated but…I don’t mean to be a bother. You can’t find them, can you? With your attachment to the ley line?” The shopkeeper frowns and sits down across from the professor.

“I’ve never met them, so I’ve never come across their spiritual energy. I could probably find you like that if you were ever in danger but…not a stranger. On a night like this, I went out into the rain and with all the magical energy I could muster I followed my friend Caroline. It took everything I had. Even if I had met these travelers everyone’s talking about, the last time I tried to find someone like that, my soul almost got taken into the ley line for good.”

“Ah…r-right. I apologize. I didn’t wish to ask too much of you.” So, because Mariela was attuned with this ley line she could also distinguish one person’s presence from another. She’d have to ask her more about this in the future. It wasn’t exactly like a mana signature, but something similar at least.

“Naw, it’s alright. I get it. When Carol was missing I…I felt so scared. I can’t fight, so all I could do was lead other people to the place she was to protect them.”

Raine sighed, taking a moment to sip at her coffee so she had time to collect herself and think. Honestly... Raine could relate to what she was saying.

“Well. Your skills are impressive, and more than useful to others. Thank you again for meeting me here tonight. So, tell me a little more about these.”

The alchemist picks a potion vial out of the box, shaking it gently so that the foggy white particulate swirled in the liquid. Raine recognized this one. It was some sort of Monster Warding potion. Mariela had mentioned before that this kept monsters away, but she had yet to explain exactly how it worked. She asked now for some clarification.

“Alright, so you remember this one. It’s made from the same herbs that grow around the gutters on the roof. I can’t guarantee that they’ll work on every monster. After a certain level monsters become too strong to be affected by them. In my world, monsters all had a ranking system. D-ranked monsters were usually the weakest of them and they were found on the first levels of the Labyrinth. C ranks were stronger than those, then B, then A, and the strongest of all monsters would be classified as S rank. The same went for people. Anywho, the monster warding potions usually work for monsters up to B rank, but it depends. Dog monsters like wolves are especially sensitive to it. The smell it gives off will make them turn and run. If they’re too high of a level, you can at least throw it at a certain spot to guide them into groups so they’re easier to hit. That’s what we did with the orc raids every year.”

“So these potions won’t normally hurt a monster?”

“Nah. Not usually. It makes them really uncomfortable and might give some minor burns, but usually it’s just a deterrent.”

“Good to know. So then…these bombs.”

“Oh yup yup. This stays between you and me though. My shop has a strict policy that I don’t like selling anything that could be used to hurt other people. I trust you, but in the wrong hands…”

“I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

“Pheeeew. Thought so. I don’t sell poisons either for the same reason, even if I can make them. It’s just not moral to do it. So, you know about these flash bombs.” The shopkeep pulls out a bright yellow sphere. “They emit a bright light. Some monsters might be scared of light so it’s worth a try, but you’re gonna want to warn anyone else that you’re about to use one so you don’t get disoriented.”

“Then…the red ones.”

“Right-o. Those are actually bombs that cause explosions. Not big ones, when we were fighting the Labyrinth even kids used those, but they’ll definitely cause an injury. Be reeeeally careful with those. I’d suggest throwing them at the feet of a monster to demobilize them. Have you ever handled explosives before?”

“My light magic acts in a similar way and as for explosives…well. I know the dangers of them. I have never had handheld ones, but I have used them before.” At the professor’s answer, the alchemist had a concerned look on her face. Raine quickly followed up with, “Don’t worry Mariela. I’m not reckless. I like to make tactical plans before walking into danger if I can help it.”

Mariela nods. “These ones are made from incendiary plants. Less chance for collateral damage because there’s no shrapnel. And here.” The girl removes a leather belt with a number of pouches around it from around her waist, handing it over to Raine. “Carry it all with this. I really hope you find what you’re looking for out there. Be safe.”

“Thanks Mariela. I will certainly try to be.”

The alchemist put the lid back on the box and handed them over to the half elf. Raine scowled as she drew closer to the doorway, looking out to see that the rain had only started pelting the pavement with even more fury. The alchemist hopped up from her seat and peered out into the city streets herself. They both lived in this ward. She couldn’t just let her customer walk back home without at least a hood on.

“Wait up Raine! Let me just clean up and I’ll walk you right on home. I’m positive I’ve got a big umbrella here somewhere. We’re going the same direction anyway.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

Mariela would throw the remains of the professor’s coffee in the sink and toss the container in the garbage. It was unlike Raine to clean up, but looking at her now, she was definitely out of it. She just stood under the awning in front of the shop and kept on staring out into the night, lost in her thoughts. Mariela looked around and finally found her umbrella, tucked into a corner in the living room. Then she locked up the door into the house and walked out the front door of the shop to lock that one as well. Then she began opening up the umbrella for both her and the half elf. It was a quiet walk home. Only the sounds of cars sloshing through puddles and their shoes smacking the pavement would be heard between them. It was scary, almost, to see a time when the professor was not excitedly chattering about her newest discovery.

After walking Raine to her doorstep, Mariela pulled a healing potion out of her pocket and handed it to the professor. She had already paid for the box in her hands, but being a healer herself she had figured that she could handle any injuries herself. Mariela told her that this one was on the house, and that you could never be too safe. The professor nodded and took the potion from her, unable to speak for a moment. She bowed her head slightly and thanked the girl again for her generosity, placing the potion in her own pocket. Mariela wished her luck and began walking down the street to her own building. Raine unlocked the door behind her and walked across the threshold, making her way upstairs to get to her apartment.

The room was quiet except for the usual sounds of the city that got filtered to the back of her mind. After taking off her shoes and hanging up her coat, Raine immediately headed for her room. She knew that she couldn’t do this alone. She wished she was more certain whether or not she was actually chasing phantoms but…she had made up her mind. She needed to know. If it was her parents after all, her father was there. That meant her parents were taken from a time before Kloitz had passed. That meant in turn that her mother had yet to lose her faculties. She could actually speak to them and get the answers that she desperately wanted to hear after so many years.

Above all…they didn’t regret having her, did they? Even though she was a half-elf, born to be scorned and despised. She was the reason they were on the run for so long. If the Imperial Research Academy hadn’t heard of her existence they would not have had to give up everything. It was her fault, wasn’t it? Surely, Virginia and Kloitz would have always been ostracized for finding love with one another, but if the siblings were never born perhaps they could have lived in Heimdall forever. Her father would still be alive if they were never chased out. 

No. She would no longer think like that. If her Journey taught her anything, it was that she had the right to live regardless of her race. She would make her own place in the world...and here in Spirale...she didn’t even have to steal that place by pretending she was something she was not. People looked up to her. They accepted her, and cared for her, as hard as it was to believe most of the time. Her life was important.

What would happen, exactly, if those two people in the woods were her parents after all?  After so many years of feeling abandoned and rejected, did she want an apology from them? Did she just want to be left alone so that she might move on—scars buried deep but never quite healed? Did...any of it even matter anymore? She no longer had to hide who she was. For the first time in so long she could see happier days ahead. Logically she knew it was time to stop living in the past. Whatever she chose, it seems that she would have to make the decision quickly upon seeing them.

…If it really was them.

She wasn’t strong. Especially here in Spirale. She was a healer and a mage. Then again Virginia’s words ran circles in her mind. “Please forgive your powerless mother”. Even if Raine had some magical ability she felt she was nearly powerless, just like her mother had felt. But wait…that wasn’t entirely true was it? Raine had been through hell and back. Even when it felt like there was no hope, and life had kicked her down she changed her plans and found a way to survive on her own. Even if her magic wasn’t powerful, she was strong. She was tenacious. She would never give up fighting to find safety and belonging for her family. Above all she was crafty. She had to believe if there were monsters out in those woods, she would do as she always did and claw her way out of danger by the skin of her teeth.

Raine lay on her bed and took out her phone, staring at the list of contacts. In the past Raine had been too stubborn to ask for help. She believed that she had to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders because the only person she could rely on was herself. But now…things were different weren’t they? People she held dear knew who she was. They knew of her struggles to find a place where she belonged, and they began to welcome her with open arms. So…would it not cause undue worry to march into the woods by herself, just like when she went off on her own to find the Otherworldly Gate? Genis would be so upset if she did. Raine needed to ask for help, just this once. So… she opened her messages, hoping it was not too late to be bothering others, and called in a few favors to her friends and loved ones.

[littledrummeraussie]

the light in your eyes and the dark in your heart.

Word count: 1900+

Warnings: I would say none? It’s a bit mystical, a small bit dark, and there are mentiones of sex.

Author’s note: I’ve reblogged @devilatmydoor​ Anna’s Ashton x dark academia moodboard yesterday with the tags that it could be a modern day Dorian Gray-ish AU, and after that we started discussing the possibility behind it. I like how it turned out, and I hope it makes Anna happy as well!

Feedback is appreciated!

masterlist.

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Ashton Irwin was a mystery.

Hazel eyes stared at you as you gathered your books into a neat stack, making room for the stranger in front of you. The library was quiet and almost empty, yet he insisted to sit with you as you’ve worked on an assignment. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, showing off perfect teeth and full lips, and for a moment you were lost in the golden flecks that mixed with the greens and browns. He politely thanked you, his voice like honey, warm and rich, and you were sure he just put a spell on you with those two words.

He lightly tapped his pen against his notebook, scribbling down notes before turning to his laptop, adding a few hundred words to his already lengthy document. You’ve lost your train of thoughts many times during the two hours you’ve spent at the table in the back, and felt your stomach drop when you saw he was ready to leave, knowing you’ll probably never see the beautiful stranger again.

A piece of paper landed on your book, neatly folded into a square, and you saw him give you a smile and a wink as he left the library, bag hoisted up on his shoulder and books under his arm. You slowly opened the note to find a name and a number written down, with a few lines added at the end.

 Friday, 2.30 PM.

Café on Campus.

If you’re busy we can reschedule.

Ashton

* * * * *

Ashton Irwin was loved by everyone.

No matter how many times he took you to the coffee shop tucked away in the corner of Campus, there was always an empty table for him, his order already being made the moment he crossed the threshold. He shrugged, saying that it was easy when you were a senior and everyone knew your name, and he made you sit down as he bought you your favourite drink. He gave a charming smile to the girl working the cashier, dropping a dollar or two into the tip jar, and you could see her eyes sparkle and the blush colouring the tip of her ears as Ashton left the counter.

He always had a nice word to the people he ran into, hands in his pockets as he asked them about their latest struggles and how those worked out for them, making plans to catch up later when both had a little more time. Girls praised him for being a gentleman, always the one who looked out for them during parties, making sure they’ve got home safely. Guys told each other what a good sport he was, always ready for a joke or a good prank, how easy it was to get along with him.

Ashton laughed as you’ve asked him about his reputation, breaking a cookie in half and giving you the bigger one, picking on a chocolate chip before plopping it into his mouth.

”Silly girl,” he shook his head, giving you a knowing smile. ”People love you when they know you have something that they want. Don’t forget that.”

* * * * *

Ashton Irwin was gifted.

The senior has been working on his dissertation since freshman year, always finding new topics to incorporate into his magnum opus. You’ve heard people gossiping about his late night library visits, disappearing for weeks to travel up to another place and look through their collection of books, always looking for something new. Ashton had a way with words – not just when he was talking, but also when it was time to understand them. He always had a book with himself, colourful sticky notes peeking out from the pages, marking all the places he wanted to revisit.

His chosen topic surprised you, but soon you’ve learned that there was no one else who has known as much about gods, demons or the devil making pacts with mortal souls throughout the history of classical and modern art. Ashton quoted sections from the Bible without thinking twice, knowing exactly how many times the Devil appeared and made his move on mankind. He made parallels between the gods making deals with mortals in Greek literature and modern men bargaining with Evil himself. He talked about Goethe’s Faust and Oscar Wilde’s Dorian Gray as someone who has read them a thousand times already; you couldn’t ask a question for which he didn’t have an answer for. Music, paintings, movies – whatever it was, he had it: saved on a playlist, in a folder on his laptop, DVDs lining his shelves, ready to make a new connection regarding all the other art forms.

You ran your finger down the spine of a torn copy of Dorian Gray in his room, the once golden words now barely readable as you’ve asked why he was so obsessed with the pact between gods and humans.

”I’ve made a deal with the Devil,” he shrugged when you cocked an eyebrow at him, grabbing your hand and pulling you to his chest. ”I’ve sold my soul for immortality.”

You rolled your eyes and let him kiss you, his lips tasting bitter like coffee, and sweet like ambrosia.

* * * * *

Ashton Irwin was beautiful.

You’ve never seen someone as handsome as your boyfriend – and no, you weren’t exaggerating. You found that you were not the only one who got lost in his shining eyes or his charming smile. People stopped and stared at him on the street, complimenting his features, comparing him to statues and paintings, asking if he was a model or maybe an angel. Ashton laughed and wrapped his arm around your waist, telling them that beauty was temporary, and that there are much more important things in the world before leading you away.

Yet you needed to agree with them – you’ve thought it was just the love and admiration talking, your budding romance and the excitement of a new relationship. But Ashton always seemed like he was perfectly put together by God himself. Your fingers curled into his silky soft hair, eyes locked on his, trying to name all the colours that made up his curious gaze, lips full and jaw chiselled, arms strong and skin warm against yours. You soon found out about his love for tattoos, but it took you some time to explore all of the different inks painting his skin, every one of them having a story for another night when you’ve made love.

He curled his arm around you, pulling you to his side, blissed out from your shared pleasure. Your fingers tangled into his necklace, playing with the medal before lightly running your fingertip over his nipple, down on his ribs to the tattoo on his side, tracing the fine lines of the inking.

”Do you ever fear death? Dying before your time is up? Staying forever young.”

”I crave it,” he whispered, making you look up at him, but he quickly flashed you a soft smile. ”But not since I’ve found you.”

* * * * *

Ashton Irwin was dangerous.

You wanted to think that it was a joke, a well put together prank to make fun of a naïve freshman. But Ashton wasn’t laughing, his eyes dark and serious as he waited for your reaction. His classmates jokingly called him Dorian Gray, and you’ve thought it was just a play on his obsession with death and immortality, but you found that they’ve been right. Even if they didn’t know just how right they have been.

”You did sell your soul to the Devil,” you couldn’t believe the words that left your mouth, but deep inside you knew they were true.

”And I’ve been trying to get it back ever since,” he moved closer, making you step back until your body hit the shelf behind you. ”Are you scared of me?”

”Should I?” you felt your throat dry up, words stuck in your mouth as he leaned his forehead against yours.

”Silly girl,” he brushed his thumb down your cheek, stroking a lock of hair behind your ear. ”You should be terrified.”

”You’re looking for a solution,” you slowly put the pieces together, and he just nodded, both of you understanding the other. ”How old are you?”

”I don’t even remember myself,” he smiled sadly, fingers cradling your jaw. ”Maybe a few hundred years.”

”Are you lonely?” you tugged on the hem of his shirt, and he took it as an invitation, moving closer to your body.

”Not when I’m with you,” Ashton shook his head. ”You make me feel like I’m free of this curse.”

The sounds of your pleasure echoed in the empty library building, the night quiet and dark around you as you’ve lost yourself in each other, Ashton’s arms tightly wrapped around you as he moaned and grunted, and you took all of him – all his pleasure, all his hurt and sadness, every little confession he whispered in your ear. He was sweaty and out of breath as he curled up in your lap, head resting on your thigh as you played with his hair, both of you knowing that this was probably the end. You knew that when the morning comes he will go back to his books and tales, looking for the one thing that could make this all right. He knew that you will probably stick around until the end of the semester, transferring to another school so you don’t to have deal with the hubris he has brought upon himself.

”You know– I’ve seen a flat down on Main Street,” you lightly tugged on his curling hair, and he slowly looked up at you. ”It’s up for rent.”

”Are you sure about it?” something flashed in his eyes, a glimmer of hope as you’ve nodded, making a smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

* * * * *

Ashton Irwin was free.

His heart was bursting with love whenever he opened the door to your shared apartment, finding you in the kitchen making dinner, or curled up on the couch under a blanket, his old copy of Dorian Gray lying on the floor next to you, your finger still stuck between the pages. He always checked where you were at, reading a few paragraphs before marking your page and putting it on the coffee table, running his fingers down your cheek to wake you.

Ashton couldn’t remember the last time he felt alive. But with you tucked against his side as the two of you watched a movie or walked around the city when everyone else was already asleep – that is when he truly felt free. He promised himself he will stop trying, and start living, working on being the best version of Ashton, the one he thought you deserved. He didn’t want to think about what will happen in a few years, how are you going to explain to people that he stopped aging a hundred or so years ago. He just wanted to be happy, even if it only felt like a moment in the long life that still awaited him.

On the morning of your graduation day Ashton climbed back into bed next to you, bouncing on the mattress as he tried to wake you. You sleepily blinked up at him, ready to give him a dirty look for making you get up so early – and that is when you saw it. A lock of grey hair hung over his forehead, making his smile brighter than the sun. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging him closer to kiss him, wrapping the stray curl around your finger.

”You’ve never looked more beautiful,” you whispered on his lips, and you felt Ashton blush, burrowing closer to you.

He’s never felt more beautiful or loved than that morning. He was alive. He was free.

- - - - -

@mymindwide @loveroflrh @sadistmichael @notinthesameguey @babylonashton @talkfastromance4 @dead-and-golden @fuckyeah5sostakemehome @karajaynetoday @devilatmydoor​ @myloverboyash​ @sexgodashton​

[rotworld]

12: Musician

all of the prominent soloists sell their souls these days. you staunchly refuse, for personal reasons.

->suggestive but not explicit. contains gore, hand/finger trauma, and masochism.

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There is a demon in the dressing room, and no one seems to know who let him in. No matter; to ask would have as much purpose as toweling off a fish. 

What is known is that he isn’t supposed to be there. Prospective patrons are to wait in their designated queue in the concert hall, where they will have ample opportunity to make their offers before and after the performance. But this one has skipped the line entirely, disemboweling the first attendant who tries to stop him. 

You don’t look but you hear the rush of blood and the wet plop of intestines unwinding across the floor. Years of practice has enabled you to quash the dread and sickness in the pit of your stomach, your face a perfect mask of indifference. Discomfort is like blood in the water to these creatures. 

“Pardon me for the intrusion,” the demon says. His voice is alluring, as sweet as honey and as rich as wine. You fight the unconscious pull drawing you towards him, focused instead on unlatching your violin case. “I simply couldn’t help myself. I didn’t want to miss my chance. You rarely linger on the stage.” 

He’s someone of importance, you fear, eloquently spoken and expert at the human form. He is, overwhelmingly, the color of blood. The deep crimson of his tailcoat is rivaled only by his eyes, a shade of red so dizzying that it can only have come from the Infernal Realm. His horns are magnificent twisting corkscrews adorned with lacquered ends, rubies encrusted in bands of gold. His hair is fire and sunset, the hues dancing. You remain seated, observing him only through the mirror, and just long enough to remember his face. “I don’t have much time to idle,” you tell him.

“I understand,” he says, sinking gracefully into the empty seat beside you. “I believe, in an interview, you said you practice six hours a day. Such discipline is undoubtedly the root of your success, and yet…” He does not continue. He doesn’t have to. You feel his heated stare on your hands, watching intently as you unwrap lightly-stained bandages from your fingers. Beneath is a mess of sores and split scabs, blood caked under your nails and frozen mid-trickle to your palm. 

“There’s nothing you can offer me that someone else hasn’t already,” you tell him. It stings to pick up your rosin, but the pain is nothing to you. You hardly wince anymore. You slide the block along your bow in long, deliberate strokes, his eyes never leaving you. “No more sores, no more aches. As if I’d feel right without them. The pain tells me how well I played. Or divine skill, like it means anything when every soloist in the world sounds like that. Or my favorite, never practice again!” You roll your eyes. “What kind of artist thinks to themselves, ‘Oh, if only I could paint less’?”

This is dangerous, speaking so brazenly. But the demon was the first to be so brazen, waltzing right in as though he had some claim to you. “Heard it all, have you? I’m not surprised. Ah, but where are my manners?” He produces a business card from his pocket and sets it down in front of you. It’s printed on cardstock in yet another demonic shade of red, this one searing and violent. Your vision starts to blur and you have to flip it over, but you glimpse the curling symbol indicating that a Great Duke sits beside you. “My name is Zepar,” he says, bowing his head. “A pleasure to meet you.” 

You don’t give him your name. He knows it already or he wouldn’t be here. Silently, you continue to slide the rosin along your bow. It, too, is a raw and bloody color, a gift forced upon you by another hopeful patron only a week ago. The dust shines like stars and stings on your fingertips. Your dismissal, unfortunately, does not dissuade the demon. He’s closer than he was before. His reflection shares your mirror, one clawed hand caressing your face.

“I understand competition is more and more cutthroat these days,” he says. “Most orchestras won’t work with a soloist that hasn’t taken a patron. It’s fortunate for you to find one so welcoming, but I wonder if worry ever creeps into your heart? That hospitality could dry up any day.” 

“Then I’ll move on,” you say. “Like I always have.” The rosin grates on your fingers, shredding your skin another layer. Blood dribbles down your wrist and splatters across the stained wood of your violin.

“Your stubbornness is charming,” Zepar says. He’s closer still, his fingers dancing along your thigh. Your breath hitches as they trail higher, tracing arcane shapes into your leg. “But you long to give in, don’t you? The chase is thrilling, but there is no greater pleasure than to be caught at last. You’ve run long enough. I am here, my arms open to you. Did you know that I am a demon of desire?” His tongue is scorching against your ear, sliding in a wet caress along the shell. His touch is filthy. You barely stifle a moan when he drags one finger over your core, feeling as though there are no clothes separating you. 

“We don’t have a contract,” you stammer.

“We don’t have to,” he murmurs. When did he get behind you? When did you stand from your chair? He has you bent over the mirrored table, blanketing your back, one hand between your legs and the other sliding across your chest. “Look at yourself,” he groans. “So debauched, and all I’ve done is touch you. I could take you right here. Slide your clothes out of the way just so, and,” he chuckles, fingers catching the waistband of your underwear, “oh, it would be lovely. You only have to ask. Won’t you? We can discuss the contract after that. It’s only fair that I give you a taste of what I have to offer.”

He’s so, so close to capturing you. He has you in his grasp, pinned right where he wants you, a demon of carnal delights with his palm against your bare skin. You almost lose yourself. But your left hand clutches the slender neck of your violin and that single lifeline is all that’s needed to ground you, to bring you back to where you belong. You don’t remember picking it up, but you don’t need to.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” you tell the Great Duke. He’s never been refused before. You know by the unmasked dismay on his face. “And get your hands off of me. I still need to warm up.” 

You’ve nearly shattered his composure. In the mirror, you see Zepar’s face twist into a beast’s hateful snarl, his maddening true face visible for only a moment. “I have more to offer than companionship,” he insists. “Contentment. Solace. The peace of mind you’ve always wanted. Stillness and quiet when your mind would be racing, frantic—”

“Get off of me,” you snap. He moves suddenly, as though you’ve slapped him. You turn to face him, unafraid. “This is all I want. Do you understand? Just this. You don’t have anything I want.” You slide your bow across the strings, the grooves etched in your skin finding their familiar resting place. The pain is immediate and exquisite, like nails pressing into the soft pad of each fingertip.

You start into the sweet opening notes of Violin Concerto in D major, swaying, the sores on your fingers splitting open. Blood wets the strings and the sound is heavenly, driving you to higher peaks, your grip on the instrument even tighter, more punishing. You don’t feel Zepar’s gaze. You don’t feel his presence, are not tempted by his brilliant smile or the impossible shades of his eyes. Your fingers dance across the strings in a frenzied waltz of self-sacrifice, flayed bits of skin falling at your feet, and there is no sweeter pleasure, no sensation more pure. You hunger for nothing else. 

Zepar bows low in shame and apology. “I’m—I had no idea—you should have said you were spoken for,” he stammers, frightened, but you don’t hear him, have no idea he’s even there anymore. The warmth blossoming at your fingertips makes the dull brown strings a brilliant red once more, a red more haunting than anything Zepar could hope to achieve. He flees while you’re still in the throes of it, your eyes shut and your body trembling, arching with the crescendo as though possessed, and he shouts something about how what you hold in your hands is no violin, but you pay it no mind. 

The voice of the strings is the sweetest of sounds. The bite of the strings is like a kiss to each wounded finger, a promise that you will never be empty.