#even though it's very obviously a curtain.. shhh....

[icewindandboringhorror]

Some sort of hooded adventurer look? hmm..

[imhereformysciencefriends]

3. What about their dynamic appeals to you? - also technopuffy

Size difference.

No, but seriously, size difference aside (though I do like the size difference (a lot ( ._.)), they just struck such an easy chord with each other. Brace yourselves this got long.

So the thing about Technopuffy is that while it is very much me smashing my two favorite characters’ faces together, there is a surprising amount of canon material if you’re looking for it. 

We all know Techno is someone who characters are drawn to when at their lowest. Niki, Ranboo, Tommy, Dream, even people who don’t like Techno will go to him when they’ve struck bottom and have no one else to turn to, like Tubbo accepting his help to look for Michael or Quackity using him at the Red Banquet before resuming their largely-one-sided feud. And the same can very much be said for Puffy! Her son just died in front of her, she killed one of her good friends as a result, she is wracked with grief and anger and regret and a deep sorrow when she first posits the idea that hey, this government/eggpire/people being in control of other people shit sucks. Maybe it’s time to do an anarchy about it.

But what’s interesting with Puffy is that, while she is prompted by hitting what she assumed at the time was her lowest point (she would then proceed to sink lower but shhh don’t worry about that right now), she reached that conclusion all on her own. There was no need for emotional speeches, no screaming matches across the blown out husk of the community center, Techno never once had to rattle her shoulders and beg her to understand him. She collected her own data, made her own observations, and came to the conclusion that “Techno’s probably right about this one actually.”

Not that she fully understood him, at the very start, she was still seeing him through the smoke curtain of server-wide gossip and rumors and his own daunting reputation, but independently of Techno’s efforts, she made the decision to give anarchy a try.

And I think that would be really valuable to Techno!!! As a matter of fact, I know it was, because the next time Puffy logged on he was attempting to recruit her! A touch more subtly than he’d done with Niki (if a giant flaming ANARCHY sign twice the height that she is in her basement can be called “subtle”) but the moment the rumor mill told Techno she was down—not even Puffy, just rumors on the wind—he was interested in having her join. He left the coordinates to his house in her basement.

Let’s repeat that. Techno “paranoid overprepare-er of the century” Blade left the coordinates to his house in Puffy’s basement. She hadn’t said anything!!! She’d told no one she just soliloquized into the empty air and logged off about it, and next thing she knows she’s got Technoblade’s coordinates. Let’s run over the number of people Technoblade has given his coordinates to, yeah? Phil, obviously, Niki, and technically Ranboo if you look at it sideways bc ultimately while Techno suggested bringing Ranboo over, Phil was the one to actually do it. 

And Puffy.

He never told Tommy where he was (and cc!Technoblade even complained that it made no narrative sense for Tommy to know where his house was), he never told Dream about it the guy just figured it out bc he’s a weird little dude, the butcher army only found out bc they raided Phil’s house; Techno told Phil, Niki, Ranboo-sort-of, and Puffy.

That’s fucking huge to me. Techno, who has had his trust fucking tried multiple times at this point, doesn’t even have a face to face conversation with Puffy before he gives her his coords. Doesn’t even need her to explain her motivations to him to be willing to let her join the syndicate. He is instantly, immediately down. 

It’s also worth pointing out that Niki and Puffy are the only people that Technoblade ever actually recruited for the syndicate. Phil was a given, Ranboo was a tagalong for Niki’s initiation, and Connor was likewise just kinda there. Niki and Puffy are the only ones to have received actual invitations. And I just think that’s neat <3 

And that trust is honored!! Puffy goes to his place with no harm on his home or friends, just “leaves a note” that’s a touch too clever for our pig. Techno is smart, his ingenuity has solved equal if not more of his problems than his pvp skills have, but Puffy still kinda buys into the larger-than-life image of him at the start and thinks he’s a bit smarter than he is, leaving a response that’s too subtle for him. 

But her (cursed) mama didn’t raise no quitter, so Puffy recalibrated and immediately started yes-and’ing him with Badboyhalo when he thought he saw Ranboo hiding in the Egg chamber. What are you talking about Bad, you’re crazy, it’s just me and Techno here. Immediate united front. Solidarity in bullying Badboyhalo. And then of course came their mutual care for Ranboo after the poor thing fell into the most obvious trap on the server, and the creation of Team Omelette which I am still inordinately happy about to this day. 

Now, Techno is a giver. We know this. He is someone who gives and gives and gives, and has had that reciprocated and has had that taken advantage of. Puffy? Puffy reciprocates it. He indicates his willingness to help her with the Egg (which was on his own to do list anyway (it’s funny, as much as I love Team Omelette it is very much two ships missing each other in the night. Techno thinks Puffy has not responded to his Giant Flaming ANARCHY Sign in her basement, and is offering an allegiance that is a step removed from the syndicate. Puffy thinks she has responded clearly, and Team Omelette is a step towards genuine connection and collaboration. They both think the other understands this perfectly)) Anyway. He indicates his willingness to help her with the Egg, and she wants to make sure he knows that she appreciates and values what he brings to the table! He repays kindness with kindness and wrongdoing with wrongs, and she meets him on his level. 

So she brings him foxes!!!! She goes on a whole manhunt which made for a very entertaining stream but was a frustrating endeavor in-character, but the man mentioned wanting arctic foxes and by god she’s gonna make sure he knows she appreciates his willingness to help and the trust he has placed in her!!! We all lose our shit about Blitz (for good reason) but very few people talk about the fact that Blitz’s parents were a gift from Puffy. 

And! If you don’t watch Puffy’s streams you don’t know this but!! The area Techno built his house in? Puffy was there first! The little castle turret Techno called an eyesore and probably leftover from Tommy wasn’t Tommy’s at all, Puffy built that thing and, upon revisiting the area, Puffy was the one who tore it down. It feels like such an act of fate, Puffy building her dinky little cobblestone turret in a place that, if gods and schedules were kinder, would’ve eventually become a home for her. She does tear it down though, also calling it ugly, because Technoblade is very particular about his Things and she gets that. She understands and she respects that while Technoblade is extraordinarily generous, that is an act of giving, not of other people taking. His space is his space, his stuff is his stuff, she’s conscientious of it, she’s respectful. 

The ease with which they fell in step with one another still makes me really happy, though it’s that same ease that left their relationship somewhat understated and I think contributes to why I’m the only person that’s as insane about them as I am. Like yeah we got some REALLY COOL Omelette Duo art there at the start but then it kinda dropped off, which like yeah whatever I get but ALSO!! C’mon they’re so cool.

Unfortunately, good writing can’t save bad scheduling. The number of things that needed to happen before Puffy could’ve narratively joined the syndicate and have it make sense kept getting postponed and rescheduled, Techno was in prison for months, Ranboo was a ghost until the end, and obviously real life Techno’s passing put an end to all the character’s storylines. It was a really unfortunate end, but in a kinder world we would’ve absolutely gotten syndicate Puffy eventually, and I can sit here with my little coals and let those keep me warm.

BEYOND the cool narrative stuff they had going on, they’re also just like. A looney tunes ass couple.

Like we all know Technoblade is the Bugs Bunny of the server but let us NOT discount the jokes and japes that Captain Puffy keeps us all in constant supply of. They’re goofsters. They’re sillies. They are the physical embodiment of “excuse me he asked for no pickles.” We’ve got a five foot nothing sheep shouting and shoving and blustering her way around, and a seven foot acolyte of the blood god  running away from social situations because he doesn’t know what to say in them. Captain “I dunno what you’re talking about, Bad, this is perfectly normal to me” Puffy and Techno “Skeppy I need you to run this maze that I definitely made and get the horses at the end. For no reason.” Blade. Captain Puffy has a weird cursed mom (I’m hoping for a Sherbet Above the Sea of Fog situation), Techno’s got his “where I come from… we only have one life” thing. Puffy is quick to yes-and anyone she’s talking to, and Techno loves a good joke.

Switching back slightly more serious: they DO have strengths the other lacks. As much fun as it is to depict Puffy being, like, competent in a fight or whatever bc pirate themes… she’s really not. My girl is not a pvp’er I accept that I have made my peace with it. You know what she is? An extravert. Techno, meanwhile, struggles to be On around other people, but packs a phucking wallop when the situation calls for it. He’s got stability and more or less his shit sorted out when Puffy is desperate and hurting and at her lowest, and can provide that safety and companionship like he has done for so many others. Puffy has drive and her thumb on the pulse in the way that Techno, in his isolation and his house in the middle of nowhere, is often left floundering for clues. 

And they both care. So much!!!! Puffy has a whole arc of determining that her attachments are why she’s in so much pain and trying to disengage with them, and can’t. She tries to stop caring as a self-defense mechanism and she can’t. She can’t stop caring, she can’t stop being attached, she cares so much about everything all the time and she cannot uncurl her fists. And Techno! Doesn’t want to! He knows he’s attached, he knows he cares deeply and truly about everything that’s ever touched him, and he doesn’t want to distance himself. He wants to punch the thing that would make those attachments hurt!  They! Are! People! Who! Care!!!!!!!!!!

And yes they have their differences and no I don’t think it’d be a relationship without any friction at all but!!! They’re!!! SO captivating to me, and I love them, and I think about them a lot, and I think they just work.

Also hot tiny sheep woman x hot giant pig man yes yes mm yes please tasty tasty I am nothing but mortal and when two hot people with likeable personalities exist near each other I want them to kiss.

Anyway, Technopuffy good.

[sharpsuite]

this is totally not because of the message i just sent you on discord shhh. but do you have any headcanons about chishiya's living space? how does he decorate it (if he decorates at all)? does he have a preference for any colors or styles? etc etc

Not me still giggling at you sending this at the same time i was considering making a headcanon post over this very thing.

Chishiya's living space is very....sterile and cold. It's never a mess, always very clean or is cleaned up very shortly after if not immediately. It feels more like a SHOWROOM than an actual place where anyone would live in. There's nothing personal about it if you look around for things. Furniture is nice and expensive, but it's not personal. He doesn't have pictures of himself or other people up, doesn't have any plants ( other than the odd time a patient at the hospital gives him flowers as thanks - accepted SOLELY because they'll die in a few days anyways and he just throws them out because he'd rather avoid a scene if he threw them away at the hospital. ) He doesn't keep any drawings or cards from patients, doesn't have many trinkets that lay around. He does have BOOKS though that are carefully organized on a built in bookshelf in the living room.

His place isn't particularly colorful which also ADDS to the sterile and cold appearance of it. He tends to just go white, black, silvers, darker blues. Maybe a splash of red here and there. Think appearances along THIS and THIS ; very open floorplan with tile floors and large windows - his place is a sub-penthouse a few floors down from the top. in the main living space. He also has a lot of the bright, harsh lighting in the kitchen, dining room, and bathrooms. His bedroom isn't much different from the sterile and cold appearance other than having blackout curtains. The only real signs someone lives there besides obviously having Chishiya's stuff in there are there's a handful of fuzzy blankets on the back of the couches & his bed as well as the soft pillows on the couches. Sometimes you might find a textbook open or his notes on the living room table / aisle in the kitchen or his music player somewhere, but that's all. He does have warmer lighting and nice rugs in the the living room, his bedroom, and the unused guest bedroom.

The thing is, it's not that Chishiya even LIKES this minimalist, contemporary appearance that his place has. But it is familiar even if he won't admit to that. Not that he needs it; Chishiya's not attached to it. People tend to have a habit of subconsciously either REPLICATING what they know or entirely AVOIDING it. Chishiya falls into the former category of replicating it. His home growing up was also extremely sterile and cold, so he's familiar with this sort of look. It looks as empty as he feels. Chishiya just...doesn't care too much. He's not particularly attached and it's not 'home', just where he lives. IN REALITY? I think Chishiya WOULD much prefer a warmer, cozier place. But it's not something that will naturally occur to him because he's never experienced it. He won't think to change it and wouldn't even know how to go about it. No one else ever sees his place though besides him so he doesn't ever think about it. Post-Borderlands, he doubts anyone would be surprise to find it so lifeless if they come over to visit. ( Ironically, should he go to someone else's place, the living room probably IS his favorite spot because of how inviting it is. )

Chishiya doesn't decorate for any holidays either. He doesn't even OWN any holiday themed decorations. For one, he typically is working during the holidays themselves. Secondly, he doesn't see the point. It's just him anyways even if he ISN'T working a holiday, so he doesn't see why. The hospital decorates some for the holidays, good enough. POST-BORDERLANDS, he will very reluctantly accept it if anyone he was close to there came over and insisted on decorating it. The decorations don't mean anything to him, but Chishiya...might like just the memory or symbolism of it. Or the desserts because I'm sure he's being bribed with holidays desserts and he will accept that.

Ironically enough, despite the 'temporary' nature of the Beach in the Borderlands, it reflects a lot in his room THERE as well. For example, even with Arisu's first few days at the Beach he already has jackets and shirts on the couch/desk, there's snacks and drinks scattered around, shoes kicked off at the doorway / middle of the room. IN CONTRAST, even in the Borderlands Chishiya's room looks like its barely used. Other than the blankets on the bed and his sneakers for the games and a radio/music player on the desk, there's very little evidence his room is used despite him being there for quite a while. Chishiya's hard to read as a person, and his living space is just as difficult to gain anything from at the man himself no matter where he is.

[dreamy625]

Comfortember pt. II

(I know it's December, shhh)

5. Treehouse

I couldn’t imagine Steve up a tree, so skipping this one

6. Notes

"So you want this added to the shopping list?" asks Alice, waving the post-it with 'toothpaste' written on it at her boyfriend, who nods. "Why was it stuck on the piano?"

"That's where I thought of it I guess."

"You think about your teeth when you're playing the piano?"

"Always. 'Cause the keys look like teeth." He bares his teeth and pretends to 'play' them while intoning "Dahdah dah dum."

7. Sick/Illness

I don’t really enjoy sickfics so I’m skipping this one

8. Grief/Mourning

Sitting in the patch of sunlight that warmed their dining room in the late mornings with tea, cigarettes, and his papers spread out around him was normally one of Steve’s happy places. But today he looked mournful, slumped over the pages with one hand propping up his head.

“You okay, sweetie?”

“Fifth anniversary,” he says, gesturing at the grainy photos and sombre headlines in front of him, “96 people. All those faces, just kids some of ‘em.”

“Did you know anyone who was there?”

“No, wasn’t a Wednesday game, just hosting a Cup match. I used to know a bloke who worked there; dunno if he was there when it happened though.”

“I remember all the news coverage at the time, really horrible.”

“I’ve stood there, well not that end, on the Kop. Me Uncle Davey used t’ take us lads sometimes, when he’d ‘ad a win on the ’orses. Was grim even then, worse when they put up the fences; like being in a cage.”

Alice wraps her arms around his shoulders and tilts her head against his. “You get more northern when you talk about home,” she observes.

“Heh, this is ‘ome now.”

“You’ll always be a Yorkshire lad at heart though.” She hugs tighter. “And a big heart at that, mourning all these people you never knew.”

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

Not sure how well-known this is outside the UK? During a football match held at the Hillsborough stadium in 1989, there was a crush in one of the fenced-in standing areas that killed 97 people (Steve says 96 because the 97th was only added to the toll many years later when that person died as a result of injuries sustained on the day). The Kop is a stand at the other end of the ground which was similarly a standing area with wire fences around it in the late 70’s and 80’s. Steve grew up in the Hillsborough area and would have been familiar with the stadium, although obviously he hadn’t lived in Sheffield for years when the event occurred.

9. Aftermath Travel

This seemed like a lot of sad ones close together, so I used the alternative prompt of ‘Travel’, loosely interpreted, instead.

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

“How’s the weather looking out there?”

Steve drops the curtain on the rainy view of Paris and turns back from the window, “Er…” his forehead creases in concentration, “trez morvay… er… ill plurt? Boocoo!”

“Well done, you remembered!”

Looking pleased with himself, Steve takes a little bow before declaiming theatrically “Jur swee I am, a pot of jam,” he twirls and points at Alice, propped up against the pillows watching him fondly, “To ez…” he smiles, “a very pretty girl.”

“Une jolie fille.”

“Jolee fee? I think I prefer the English.”

“Anglais.”

Steve climbs onto the bed and crawls up to face his petite amie, “Enough lessons, gimme a kiss!”

“Bisou,” translates Alice, holding the pout that ends the word.

“Mmm, a french kiss.” he murmurs as he leans in.

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

‘Je suis I am a pot of jam’ comes from the Molesworth books, I don’t know if you get those in the US?

[catgirlforkaeya]

migraines

kaeya x gn!reader

fluff?? sickfic?? hurt/comfort?? pls idk

warnings: all lowercase + not proofread

a/n: i’ve been having awful migraines lately (p sure one is forming as i’m wrapping this up woohoo) so i decided to write about it bc this is my way of coping or wtv :,)

probably one of the best things about kaeya is that he’s very observant. when he noticed you starting to act off he immediately asked if something was wrong

you two are very honest and open in your relationship so you didn’t have any need to be like “oh no i’m fine” — so you opened up to him about your history of migraines and how they’ve been coming back

i think kaeya also struggles with migraines (mostly from stress due to work) so he knows how you feel and is very quick to act whenever you have one

if you two are at home (which you usually are when they hit) he’ll carry you upstairs to your bedroom even though you told him at you can walk fine

he’ll lay you in the bed and close up the curtains as much as he could to block out light (he probably got those blackout curtains for you— or he already had them)

once the room is dark enough that the light isn’t bothering you he’ll go get some medicine for you

once you take it and get comfy kaeya will crawl into bed next to you. you’ve told him that he doesn’t need to stay with you but he insists. he’ll always make sure you’re comfortable before he does anything

kaeya would probably rub your temples or anywhere else that might possibly help relieve if you let him— if not then he will listen and obviously won’t do it (he always asks for permission before he does anything 😭)

i feel like he’d also use his cryo vision to help a little? he wouldn’t use any extreme temperatures but enough to help soothe the pain. he knows from experience and research to know that ice helps dull the sensation a little

he’d cuddle up with you 99% of the time (again, always asks if you’re okay with it first which you normally are). he’ll rub small circles onto your arms/torso as a way to kinda put you to sleep ig? or to also just comfort you

kaeya will do anything he can to make sure his s/o isn’t in any pain— and that’s one of the things that you absolutely love about him

he’ll stay with you as long as you need— even if it lasts for a few days. he’s called into work countless of times because your migraines have carried over into the next few days. he’d make food and get you some water, then return to the bedroom and stay with you

if you two aren’t home when your migraine hits he’ll do his best to get you home as quickly as possible and it’ll just be the same routine as normal

honestly kaeya is a 10/10 when it comes to caring for his partner when they need it (hes a 10/10 in everything but shhh)

© all rights reserved to catgirlforkaeya. reposting, plagiarizing, modifying, and translating is NOT allowed.

[reidology]

Dying in a bathtub - Hotchreid

Summary: Hotch gets nightmares and hides in the tub, so Spencer makes it comfy for him <3

Word count: 4.4k

Content warning: discussion and description of nightmares, smut, brief description of physical abuse, light angst, quite fluffy, happy ending <3

AO3

__________________________________________

The first time it happened Spencer woke up shivering, the cold of a missing body beside him seeped through the sheets chilled his bones. He braved a lazy glance to his bedside, squinting to see the alarm clock blinking big and aggressive red numbers. 05:25. Aaron must have gone out for a morning run, something Spencer never understood. In fact, his reasoning of ‘why run, when sleep?’ whenever Aaron attempted to get him to join always earned him an affectionate eye roll and kiss on the cheek, so why would he ever give that up? No promise of endless coffee can get Spencer Reid to wake up before 7am, much less for exercise.

Reluctantly the sleepy man made his way to the bathroom, knowing he might as well shower and get ready for work now, there’s no way he could get back to sleep without his human furnace of a boyfriend covering him completely. Only, through his grogginess he failed to notice the boyfriend-shaped body softly snoring in the tub.

So he padded over to the semi-closed shower curtain and blearily reached in to turn the water on for it to heat up while he got ready.

Almost as soon as the water turned on, a high-pitched shriek assaulted the young agent’s eardrums. Spencer did what, in his opinion, any caught-off-guard fully trained FBI agent would do— he squealed in shock and fell back on his ass. A moment later the shower curtain pulled back, revealing a very irritated -and very wet- Aaron Hotchner.

“Babe what the fuck,” the older man whined, wringing out his shirt and turning the freezing water off, “I was sleeping!”

“Oh this is my fault?!”

“Yes! Couldn’t you see me?!”

“I just woke up!”

“Me too!” Aaron pointed to his wet shirt as if to say you have no excuse for this.

Spencer let out a frustrated sigh and pushed himself up from the floor. Somehow he upset his boyfriend, he guesses apologies are on the table. He carefully stepped into the bathtub to face his dripping boyfriend and wrapped his arms around the soaking man’s neck, “I’m sorry,” he pouted quite prettily, “But honey, why were you sleeping in the tub?”

“I didn’t sleep in the tub. I went to sleep in our bed, then you woke me up in the tub.” Aaron grumbled.

Spencer thought Aaron looked positively insane. His eyes focused on the older man’s pupils as his hands checked for a fever.

“Do you have a concussion?” He couldn’t help but fret about the man who is usually so well put together. He was obviously in distress though what kind of distress completely eluded the dry man. Aaron waved Spencer’s worried hands away from his face, “No. Spence, I’m telling you, I didn’t sleep in the bathtub.”

“Then how did you get here?”

Aaron shrugged and swatted Spencer’s nosy hands away that were trying to inspect the grumpy man for any injuries, “Who knows? Let’s get some breakfast.” He calmly stepped out of the tub and headed out, leaving Spencer confused (for once).

“... But it’s 5 am.”

_____

Two nights later, it happened again. But this time Spencer awoke to the sound of sobbing. His heart just about broke in two at the sight of Aaron curled in on himself in the porcelain tub, shaking and covered in sweat.

The Unit Chief used to have terrors most nights. After Foyet, all of life’s problems seemed to unravel in his dreams. The sounds and images were so vivid that upon waking up he believed he had done what he’d dreamed. That he’d hurt his family or that Foyet had come back to finish the job.

During hard cases, Aaron would forgo sleep completely, knowing his mind would only haunt him with terror beyond his conscious capabilities. It left him exhausted and agitated for the rest of the investigation. The team and LEOs got frustrated but none had the guts to confront him, except for one young agent who took special notice of his boss.

So Spencer stepped in, and after weeks of getting closer and learning more about each other than they had in the past five years of working together, Aaron digressed and accepted the help that was offered. The following three months ensued so smoothly, the therapy was helping and Aaron couldn’t believe he was sleeping full nights again. He knew it was all thanks to Spencer, who had taken up a very special place in his heart. Aaron knew that Spencer would always be there when he woke up, like an anchor. Something real to hold on to and keep him in place.

It had been a while since Aaron had such a bad episode, luckily Spencer knew just what to do and jumped right into action. Without missing a beat, the younger man climbed into the tub and sat by Aaron’s head, taking hold of one of his white-knuckled fists and gently coaxing it open by rubbing his thumbs from the palm to the back of the hand. Constant pressure, soothing, real. With one hand he threaded his fingers through the brunette’s damp hair, stroking softly at his scalp, willing his nightmare mind to latch onto the familiar touch.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.” He murmured sweetly like a mantra.

Eventually Aaron’s panicked sobs dissolved into pained whimpers, his body lost some of its tension, allowing for Spencer to gently lift his boyfriend’s head into his lap and off the hard floor of the tub. The whimpers died down to light trembles and Spencer shushed him comfortingly, continuing to sooth him with gentle strokes to his head. Slowly Aaron’s eyes opened and Spencer felt the moment panic set in. The taller man’s breathing quickened and tension returned to his body, frozen in fear. God, Spencer should have turned the lights on.

“It’s just me, darling. You’re home, Aaron. This is home. You’re safe.”

Aaron trembled more, his eyes glazed over as if reliving the nightmare, “Shhh you’re safe.”

Spencer placed a feathery kiss on his boyfriend’s forehead that seemed to anchor him immediately. Tentatively, Aaron looked up at his rescuer, relieved to be in his lover's arms and away from the nightmare universe that had felt so real. He burrowed further into Spencer’s lap, wrapped his shaking arms around his boyfriend’s steady hips. He tried to focus on Spencer’s heartbeat in an attempt to regulate his own. Spencer was warm, Spencer was safe. Always safe.

“Foyet?” Spencer asked cautiously, breath fanning over the older’s forehead. Aaron stilled at the name then nodded. The younger man knows that Aaron needs to talk about it immediately, even if it’s terrifying. It allows him to discern dreams from reality, so that the events and sensations of the night terror don’t ingrain themselves into the man’s memories of reality .

“... and Scratch,” Aaron gulped, “They had Jack. I couldn’t... I didn’t know what was real. Couldn’t tell if it was really Jack. He made me hurt him. Oh god, Spence… I hurt him.” Sobs wracked the pained man’s body once again, unable to forget the horror of the dream. Spencer rocked them back and forth.

“Shh… Jack is fine, he’s at Jess’s. You would never hurt him, Aaron.”

Aaron was spent, he couldn’t muster up the energy to talk. He fell asleep once more in his partner’s comforting hold.

_____

The next morning they woke up with aching muscles from being in the bathtub for so long. Spencer couldn’t help but be worried about his boyfriend. There was definitely something going on, and though he respected Aaron’s privacy immensely, he was afraid of the older man getting into a dangerous situation. Was he sleepwalking to the bathroom? What if he tripped and hit his head on the edge of the tub? But most importantly, why were Aaron’s nightmares leading him to the bathtub?

Spencer nuzzled Aaron’s neck in an effort to wake him up a bit more. “Darling, we need to talk about this.” The worry in Spencer’s voice was audible and prompted Aaron to sit up and sigh deeply. He didn’t think this part of his life would ever come back up to the surface, he’d avoided thinking about it for decades and he didn’t know what triggered the habit to resurface. But now it’s affected Spencer, and he knew he couldn’t keep the love of his life in the dark, but some things were so hard to talk about.

Aaron found himself panicking again, flashes of Foyet and his father clouding his mind once more. Images of Sean taking cover in Aaron’s arms while their father pounds on the bathroom door-

“I know. I-” He was cut off with the sweetest kiss.

“You can take your time sweetheart. No rush.”

Even at this stage in their relationship, Aaron wasn’t used to being treated so well. The kindness that naturally radiated off his boyfriend was enough to make his insides melt, the understanding words never ceased to choke him up. But he knew Spencer would be there to put him back together once he gave him all his pieces. He buried his face in the younger’s neck, breathing in the scent of his shampoo, relaxing into his hold. Spencer wrapped his arms around Aaron’s lean form, offering a safe space. Aaron had never been this vulnerable with anyone before his relationship with Spencer.

After a moment of just holding each other, Aaron’s breathing mellowed out and his voice cracked as he explained everything.

“After Sean was born, my dad started drinking. He’d always been somewhat aggressive, scary even. He- he’d get angry and take it out on my mom… and if she wasn’t there... But when he started drinking it got a thousand times worse. I vowed to myself to protect Sean at all costs, I promised him I would never let our dad get to him. So I took the brunt of it when he was sober. But when he was drunk… he would chase us, try to get to Sean specifically. He was just a little kid 5 or 6, I was 15. He would scour the house to find Sean so I took him and locked us in the only room in the house with a lock… the bathroom. I’d carry Sean in my arms and make a run for it. I blocked off the door with a cabinet and we sat in the tub until he passed out.. My dad couldn’t get in but he would pound on the door so loudly, his voice was so angry-”

Aaron inhaled hard, the grip on the back of Spencer’s shirt tightened and his breathing shallowed. Spencer continued rubbing soothing circles on his back, allowing Aaron to take his time.

“The bathtub was the only safe space for Sean and I. We spent whole nights in there, waiting for my dad to pass out. Sometimes we’d tell stories, play games, but other times we cried and I covered his ears with my hands, not wanting him to hear the horrible things our dad was saying. This went on until I went to college, I tried to take Sean with me but my mother wouldn’t allow it. My dad died a year later, when Sean was 9.

“I- because of that, if any of us had nightmares we’d go into the bathroom and sleep in the tub, because no one could get to us in there.”

Aaron swallowed thickly and timidly looked up to the honey-haired man. Had he sounded pathetic?

But Spencer cupped his cheek once again and kissed him lovingly.

“Thank you for telling me. You’re the strongest person I know, Aaron. I'm sorry you had to go through all of that.”

Aaron’s heart skipped a beat, warmth spreading through his chest. He swallowed down all his uncertainties and let Spencer in, he was proud of himself. Both of them yawned in succession, still exhausted from last night and uncomfortable from sleeping in the bathtub.

With a cheeky grin the younger man announced, “Let’s go to bed, I’ll get us the day off.” Aaron was so grateful.

While he called in sick, Spencer had an idea, and he knew just who to call.

_____

“Boy Wonder! How wonderful to hear from you on this frabjous day! We miss you and the Bossman dearly. We are definitely… working. Work is happening, and we’re doing it, and it’s getting done. You can trust me on that. Definitely no piñatas in the break room, where would we even find one on such short notice? Emily doesn’t even know where to get balloons! Anyway, what magical service may I bestow upon thee today, my little lord?”

Spencer bit back a chuckle, “Hi Penelope. Listen I need some advice on… interior decorating-”

Immediately, he got cut off by a squeal, “I’m on my way!”

“No! Garcia- after work-”

The line goes flat.

“Dammit. I should’ve just texted JJ.”

_____

Despite her best efforts, the rest of the team did not let Penelope leave the BAU for a ‘design emergency’. Fortunately for Spencer, that gave him some time to plan what he wanted to do while cooking lunch for his sleeping beauty.

After a full meal of soup and grilled cheese, Hotch retreated to the living room hoping to watch some History Channel with Spencer. They love watching the conspiracy shows together and debunking the awful propositions. Though Hotch learned quite surprisingly that Spencer is very open to the idea of aliens on Earth. However, he has a suspicion that that’s mostly wishful thinking on the part of Spencer's inner child. Nevertheless, it’s adorable and Hotch was excited for it, and waiting patiently for Spencer to finish cleaning himself up.

Before he could question what was taking so long, their doorbell rang a sweet lullabye sound (they had to change it from the awful buzzing that it was- it was too overwhelming for Spencer). Not expecting any company, Hotch was puzzled as to who could be at their door.

“Who is it?” He spoke through the intercom.

“Bossman! Sorry to hear about your incurable case of Work Sickness! If you could let me up, I brought you some warm soup!-”

Spencer bounded through the foyer from the bedroom, practically hopping over furniture and knocking down a flower arrangement, “I got it! I got it!” he heaved frantically.

“Babe, what’s Garcia doing in front of our building on a weekday?”

“Nothing Aar don’t worry about it, Penelope and I are just going out for lunch, see you later!”

Spencer grabbed his satchel and was out the door.

“But- Spencer you just had lunch!” The curly haired man was already running down the steps, “Bye!”

It was Hotch’s turn to be left alone and confused.

_____

In Penelope’s car, Spencer explained his idea to Penelope, without going saying too much about Hotch’s nightmares. In true Penelope fashion, the bubbly bits-and-bobs connoisseur knew the perfect place to get what Spencer needed. Penelope dragged Spencer around the independently-owned home goods boutique like a lost puppy for about two hours. She ended up with more bags for herself and Sergio than what Spencer needed.

A few texts and one missed call from Hotch wondering what the hell was taking Spencer so long prompted them to leave. Spencer thanked Penelope in front of their apartment and air kissed her goodbye, promising to show up at girl’s night next week..

Spencer walks into the foyer as quietly as possible and hides the bags behind the living room’s entertainment center.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah! I’m home!”

Aaron walked out of their bedroom with a soft smile. His round glasses were on, meaning he’s been reading… or looking at case files.

“Are you going through the case?” Spencer scolded.

The bespectacled man didn’t waver. “There’s something the victim’s parents said that doesn’t add up, they said that every Thursday Mandy went to soccer practice after school and swim practice in the next town over in the evenings. She takes the bus so if the unsub was stalking her he’d either have to take the same bus and risk getting caught or have a car- which goes against our age profile- so that would mean there’s someone driving him. Spencer, there are TWO unsu-” He was cut off by being pulled into a kiss. He hummed into it and wrapped his arms around Spencer’s slender waist, pulling them closer together. When they pulled apart Spencer whispered “Two unsubs. The team knows, they’re working on it. You-” he tapped his finger on the older’s chin for emphasis, “need to relax today.”

The resulting pretty pout was swiftly kissed away. None of that now.

“But I don’t know how to relax. I’m Aaron Hotchner, stoic as a statue, stern glare extraordinaire, Mr. Emotionless…”

Spencer rolled his eyes and trailed his hands down Aaron’s hard chest, “I know how to make you relax…” The other man grinned “Oh is that right?” Spencer smirked and led his boyfriend to the couch.

_____

That night when Aaron was gone to bed, Spencer quietly retrieved the bags from behind the TV and set his plan in motion.

_____

He’s trembling. And he can’t recognize his own thoughts, he can’t think straight, all he can see is his son- and Haley with terror written all over their faces.

He barely registers the sound of Jack’s wailing because, as if from right behind his ear, he hears a voice that he interprets as his own thought ‘shoot him’.

‘What?’

‘Pull the trigger’

He looks back up to his sobbing, terrified son, and without hesitation- click- BOOM-

Aaron bolted up from the bed, gasping for breath. His eyes darted around the dark. Jack? Where is he- Jack ohmygod-

His vision landed on Spencer’s sleeping form, breathing shallowly and folded into himself like a pretzel, sleeping soundly like an angel. Spencer. Real. Safe. He took a deep breath to regulate his heart. In for 4, hold, out for 6, repeat. This was exhausting.

Groggily, Aaron slipped out from under the covers and headed to the bathroom to get a drink of water and maybe splash his face a little. He thought of getting into the bathtub for the comfort he desperately needed right now, but he’d be embarrassed if Spencer found him in there again. Who does that? But nothing could have prepared Aaron for the sight before him when he opened the door.

Lights. Yellow, green, purple electric lights on strings, illuminating the room in a beautiful calming glow. They were suspended from the curtain rod of the bathtub, taped to the walls. Gorgeously scented candles perched on the sink, some on the ground, a few tea lights lining the edge of the tub. It smelled glorious and comforting and Aaron couldn’t tell what it was. Pine? Sandalwood? Campfire?

The most breath-taking part was the inside of the bathtub. Patterned sheets hung from the walls and draped over to form a delicate roof. Fluffy pillows perfectly laid out to coat every inch of the porcelain interior, and soft blankets piled on top for added comfort. Lights lined the inside of the sheet tent as well, it looked fantastical. Like something out of a book.

Aaron was floored, to say the least. Was this what Spencer had been doing today? He was flooded by a new emotion, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Spencer had done all of this for him? To make him feel safe?

He was still standing just barely in the room, taking everything in and getting emotional when he heard soft footsteps behind him and felt Spencer’s long arms slink around his waist. A chin hooked over his shoulder and a kiss was pressed to his neck.

“Are you alright? Did you have a nightmare?”

Aaron nodded, “You did all this… for me?” A tinge of awe decorated his voice.

“Yeah,” his boyfriend whispered back, “So you don’t hurt yourself when you sleep in here.”

Aaron felt stupid for ever thinking his wonderful, thoughtful boyfriend would ever feel embarrassed by him. Of course Spencer took everything he admitted seriously, of course Spencer cared about what he’s been through, Spencer cares… that's what he’s been feeling. Taken care of. Important. For once in his life, he feels like he’s allowed to let himself be loved.

The stunned man seemed to be frozen in place, not knowing how to respond. His mind was overwhelmed with love for his boyfriend. Spencer pulled away and grabbed the older’s hands, Aaron let himself be led to the makeshift fort.

They climbed in together, careful not to knock over any of the burning candles. Spencer settled on one end of the tub and pulled Aaron into him before he could even think of not cuddling with him. He made space with his legs for his boyfriend to settle between, chest pressed to back, arms wrapped around his love. Safe, warm, and comfortable in a sea of cushions like twin yolks in a shell.

Laying here, in his lover's arms, surrounded by low tranquil lights, and the gentle rise and fall of Spencer’s chest, Aaron felt as serene as he’d ever been. Spencer slid warm hands under Aaron’s shirt, bringing one up to rest cozily on his heart. Aaron turned his head and nuzzled further into Spencer’s neck, feeling the familiar tingle of the man’s touch and murmured a low hum of approval.

Spencer’s other hand, that wasn’t on Aaron’s heart, was used to tip the taller man’s chin up to look at him.

“I know what it’s like to be afraid of your own mind,” he cooed, “sometimes it’s impossible to take yourself out of that world. But in our home, Aaron, I want you to feel safe and protected at all times. I want you to be vulnerable and unashamed. You’re free to be everything you are in here, and I hope that you feel you can be everything you are with me, too.”

Aaron lost himself in his partner’s deep gaze, glorious hazel eyes boring into him. Completely enamored by the words spoken to him, all he could do was nod and lick his lips, trying to regulate his heart rate for a completely different reason now. Spencer had never been so… authoritative before and his sincere but stern tone sent thrilling sparks down his spine. A blush rose up his neck.

Spencer tracked the slow movement of Aaron’s tongue sliding over his bottom lip, and didn’t fight the impulse to drag his thumb over it. “You’re always safe with me.” He barely whispered before angling his head down to catch those lips in a languid kiss. Aaron sighed into it, waiting a little while before pushing himself up to fix their awkward angle. He positioned them so that Spencer was laid down flat on his back, allowing Aaron to lay between his legs once more, chest to chest. They tangled themselves in each other, lips colliding again like a match to a box, igniting a fire in the both of them.

Both were still tired from waking up in the middle of the night, but the desire coursing through their bodies was a more pressing matter. Spencer lifted his hands to frame his lover’s neck and wrapped his legs loosely around his waist, inviting Aaron to grind down onto him, both already half hard from the anticipation. Spencer groaned into Aaron’s mouth. A sound that went right to Aaron’s dick.

They explored each other’s bodies with a youthful novelty, eager to feel more skin. Never once pulling their lips apart. Aaron slipped his hands under Spencer’s shirt and shoved it up under his arms, digging his fingers into those delicious hips. Finally he broke away from the kiss to pepper the younger’s face with sweet ones. Aaron’s heart grew three sizes at Spencer’s soft giggles and let out a low laugh of his own. How ridiculous were they, making out like teenagers in a bathtub fort? Neither much cared to answer that question though, because the impatient genius bucked his hips up to meet his boyfriend’s, who was still in his boxers, let’s get those off.

Spencer eagerly reached for Aaron’s underwear and palmed at his bulge just until he heard that impatient sound from him. He pulled the man’s cock out now fully hard and dripping with precum. A groan escaped the both of them at the sight and sensation. They wasted no time in getting Spencer out of his nerdy physics flannel pajama pants, and grinded their dicks together. Lighting sparked right through the both of them, Aaron balanced himself on one arm near Spencer’s head and took both of their lengths into his right hand.

The rub of their slick cocks together was spectacular as Aaron kept a slow and steady pace, making sure to draw out all the best sounds he knew Spencer could make by nipping at his neck, where he knew the younger man was ticklish. Spencer whined at the excruciating pace, turning into a desperate whimpering mess. Making Spencer wait was so fun.

Spencer’s hands find grip in Aaron’s short hair, keeping him close, feeling the pull of Aaron's big hand on his dick and grinding up to meet him. It’s intoxicating bliss, being taken over the edge by the man he loves.

Their worlds minimized to just the slide of their cocks and the lips on their skin. The whimpering man felt the familiar build up in his abdomen, moaning freely now as he chased his orgasm, guiding Aaron’s hand with his own to feel his touch everywhere.

“Yeah baby,” Aaron encouraged, his own orgasm coming on quickly, “Cum for me baby.”

Spencer sputtered his release over both of their hands and stomachs, momentarily suspended in the intense bliss of his orgasm. He laid there spent, feeling like putty in Aaron’s hands, and pulled him down for a passionate kiss. He took his lover’s cock in hand and pumped him quickly, thumbing the head of his dick on each upstroke. Aaron came with a groan and a shudder, his arms gave out. They laid there catching their breaths for a while, ignoring the drying stickiness between them and tracing slow patterns on each other’s skin. They were so lucky to have each other.

“How are we going to shower now?” Aaron looked up and pouted.

“There’s a perfectly good sink just 5 feet away.” They laughed, Aaron pulled a blanket over them.

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

Taglist: @foxtrot91 @physics-magic @ssa-sarahsunshine @hearteyedhotch

[raleighcarrera]

parry

foreign affairs | m!blaine hayes x mc (kennedy monroe)

after the polo match, kennedy sneaks out to see blaine. bonus scene from the end of chapter 5.

catch up: knockout (E) / on the ropes (T) / outpoint (T)

tagging: @pixeljazzy ; @zigtheeortega ; @pixelsandkink ; @writinghereandthere ; @choicesarehard ; @natesewell ; @blainehellyes 

~4.7k words | E

just let me know when you decide you actually want to be in control of your own life.

the words play on a loop in her mind as she stares at the ceiling, tossing and turning in bed. 

after all the time she and blaine have spent together, where the hell does he get off talking to her like that?

who does he think he is, being right?

kennedy huffs, flopping over onto her stomach, shoving her face in the pillow on her bed. go to sleep, she scolds herself, squeezing her eyes shut tight and doing her very best to at least try. she has class tomorrow -- assignments to turn in, things to do. she can’t be awake at...

a glance at the clock on her nightstand makes her balk. two-thirty in the morning?! 

her hands rub her eyes in frustration. this is all blaine’s fault.

before she’s even aware of what she’s doing, kennedy’s rolling onto her side and grappling for her phone, squinting as the light from the screen illuminates her otherwise pitch black bedroom. she hesitates, thumbs poised over the keyboard.

what is she supposed to say? 

it’s all so confusing -- where she stands with blaine after last week and how she’s supposed to reconcile all the things she’s learning about him with the person she’d read about online before they ever met, how her mother’s campaign intersects with what she wants and whether or not she should be allowed to have something, for once, after going without for so long. 

are you awake? she settles on finally, sent before she can take it back.

blaine’s reply comes within moments. no way did i just get a u up text from kennedy monroe, it says.

her eyes roll, though she’d be lying if she said she doesn’t immediately start to feel a little bit better, just like that. even when she doesn’t know what to say to him, she knows she wants to talk to him, and... maybe that’s enough.

you could just say yes, you know.

where’s the fun in that? before she’s even done reading blaine’s first message, the second appears right below it. is something wrong?

a loaded question. she knows she isn’t mad at blaine, not really. her anger’s meant for her mom and he’s unfairly caught the misdirection. though maybe the reason why his observations about her always seem to sting so much are because they hit unnervingly close to home, time after time. no.

liar, blaine says, and then, come over, then.

kennedy’s eyebrows lift. it’s almost three o’clock in the morning, she reminds him, as though he somehow hasn’t noticed.

so? betters your chances of not being seen with me. 

her behavior at the polo match had poked at a sore spot, then. she sighs. 

the front door is out of the question. she knows the second she slips out of her bedroom tatum will wake up and catch her in the suite’s living room, and that’s a complication she isn’t keen on dealing with, if she’s doing this.

is she doing this?

as softly as she can manage, she slips to the side and plants her feet on the floor, standing and stretching. her hair’s in a topknot, piled on her head -- that’ll have to do, there’s nothing she can do about it now -- but she should probably put on something more decent, especially if...

her phone lights up in her hand again. yes or no, rutherland?

yes, she writes back, so that it’s out there and she’s committed, her heart starting to race as soon as she sees her message is marked delivered. okay. okay, she’s doing this. there’s no going back now.

her hands shake as she slides open the window in her bedroom, less confidently than blaine had lifted the one in the living room just a few days before. for some reason the drop looks steeper and scarier than it had with him grinning up at her, but all it takes is a deep breath and the reminder of her mother’s expectations before she makes the leap, slinking off through the courtyard without a look back.

the back entrance to blaine’s residence hall is unlocked, and she counts off the numbers on each door down the hallway silently to herself to try to ease her nerves as she makes her way to the wing where she knows his and peter’s room is.

though she draws up short as she emerges from the stairwell; blaine’s waiting for her outside the suite, leaning half out of the open door frame. his arms are folded across his bare chest, and there’s sweatpants slung low on his hips where she does her very best not to stare, setting her eyes on his smirking mouth instead. “well, well, well. you actually showed.”

“shhh,” she instructs reflexively, looking around before following him inside, reaching out to smack his shoulder when blaine laughs just a touch too loudly for comfort. 

her back leans against the front door as soon as it’s shut behind her. kennedy sighs heavily, scrubbing her hands over her face. part of her wants badly to throw up.

when she opens her eyes, blaine’s shaking his head at her indulgently. his hair is tousled like he’d been in bed while they were talking, too. “you teach a girl to sneak out one time and suddenly she’s all about it. it’s like you’re a different person.”

“oh my god, be quiet,” kennedy scolds, half because he’s already annoying her to her breaking point and half because -- “isn’t peter asleep?”

“a jet plane landing on the quad couldn’t wake peter up if it tried,” he snorts, sliding his eyes down her body slowly. “but we can talk in my room, if you want. shut the door and everything.”

it’s an offer she probably wouldn’t be able to say no to even if she wasn’t feeling vulnerable; seeing blaine’s room presents an opportunity to know a part of him he seems hellbent on keeping guarded. 

and then there’s the other reason she’d come over, the innuendo underlying why she’s at blaines at three o’clock in the morning in underwear she definitely hadn’t been sleeping in.

kennedy nods. blaine’s grin is sharp in the dark living room, and he leads her wordlessly to the back bedroom in the suite -- the one that’d be dionne’s, if they were at her place.

but it’s not like dionne’s room at all. the bed is messy and unmade, dark sheets hanging half off the bed. blaine bypasses the overhead lights for the lamp at his bedside, and then the room is bathed in the dim coolness of a low blue bulb, just enough that she can see him perfectly, even though the curtains are drawn tight across his window.

blaine flings himself back into his bed like it’s no big deal at all that she’s here, the mattress bouncing in its frame. he wiggles pointedly over towards the wall, and without him inviting her closer, she toes off her shoes and falls into the space at his side, laying down on top of his outstretched arm.

there’s the briefest moment of silence before he exhales and curls his fingers around her shoulder. “i hope you left the warden a note,” he murmurs.

“after the earful i got the other day? no.” blaine’s chest is warm under her cheek when she turns her face to look at him. it’s weird how being so close to him isn’t weird at all, how natural situating herself in his bed and his arms feels and how much more relaxed she is, the crushing weight of the conversation she’d had with her mom easing up enough that she can finally let herself breathe.

“tell me about it,” blaine hums, “jacob totally ratted me out to my mom. she went nuclear.”

kennedy winces, sympathy softening the expression on her face. “i’m sorry.”

“don’t be,” blaine shrugs, “i don’t give a shit. besides, it was totally worth it.”

there’s something warm in his gaze when he meets her eyes -- something that makes her feel safe enough to admit, “my mom laid into me, too. before the polo match. it was the same as always, she just... everything is always about her campaign and how what i do affects her. and she expects me to be, like, this ideal daughter who never does anything wrong or has a life or an independent thought, and sometimes i feel like it’s impossible to live up to her expectations. i mean, no one could.”

blaine makes a noise of disgust in the back of his throat. “i know what you mean. like, yeah, our parents forced us to come here, but we should still be able to get something we want out of this experience, too.”

“exactly,” kennedy agrees quickly, struck by his understanding, “and just once i’d love to be able to make friends or date someone without having to worry about what it’ll do to my mom’s campaign, and i wish she’d give me that freedom, too, instead of trying to make me promise that i won’t be seen with you in public anymore. it’s ridiculous.”

a sudden silence from beside her makes kennedy turn her head curiously. of course, the smirk on blaine’s face is a mile wide. “i’m sorry, did you say date?”

“shut up,” she huffs, kicking his shin where their legs are half-tangled together on top of the yanked out sheets on his bed. “you know what i mean.”

“i don’t think that i do,” he says innocently, “really, you could go on --”

“oh my god, i can’t stand you. there’s seriously no --”

“i mean, i don’t think i’m asking for much. just a little explanation --”

“-- talking to you, you just interrupt me with some stupid jokes, and i’m trying to -- hey!” her voice turns up indignantly as blaine suddenly pushes up onto his knee, pivoting until he’s leaning over her on the bed. the abrupt movement makes the sheets beneath her slip, pushing her dangerously close to the edge of the mattress.

but all she can focus on are blaine’s eyes in the dim light of his room and the way he’s looking at her with them, his gaze almost adoring. 

he’s obviously waiting for an answer she’s all too eager to give up, so when he arches his eyebrows questioningly at her, she nods so quickly her bun bobs precariously at the top of her head.

blaine dips down to kiss her without hesitation, his hands braced on either side of her head, off-center from the pillow. his stubble scrapes against her jaw and she sighs, parting her lips as she melts back into the mattress, reaching out for his arms to tug him in closer. 

it’s slower and softer than his kiss at the carnival had been, more meaningful than how they’d kissed at the party at the start of term. there’s something there, in the way blaine kisses her, that she’s never felt before, not with any of the dull up-and-comers who’d so formally asked to take her to dinner in the past and kissed her goodnight politely before never calling her again.

his hand skims down her side innocently, fingers toying with the hem of her top. for all his bravado, blaine is always uncharacteristically cautious when she manages to get him alone, and fuck her, but she finds that hopelessly endearing, too. 

kennedy spreads her legs out wider on the bed in encouragement, urging him closer with a hand at his back. the bare skin of blaine’s chest seems to stretch on for miles, broad shoulders flexing under her fingers when he bends at the elbows to bring their bodies closer. his own wide palm ghosts over her stomach, spanning the expanse of her ribcage.

“i missed this,” she admits, because it’s true, her voice turning up at the end into something breathy and embarrassing when blaine’s hips roll forward in a slow grind between her legs.

to her surprise, his answer is genuine -- no sarcastic quip or smart remark to be found. “me, too,” blaine mutters lowly between kisses that start to travel across her face, over to her jaw and down her neck. “it’s ridiculous how much i think about this.” he pauses with his teeth just above her collarbone, and then amends, “about you,” and bites.

she moans, teeth digging into her bottom lip to try and stifle the sound. regardless of blaine’s insistence, peter’s asleep in just the next room, and the walls in her suite are thin enough that she can hear dionne blow drying her hair in the mornings, so --

“come on,” he needles, the rough rasp of his voice sounding so good it makes her own hips twitch forward, desperate to get closer, “i told you he won’t wake up.”

“we shouldn’t risk it,” she murmurs, sliding her hands down his chest to settle at the waistband of his sweats.

“there’s no way peter doesn’t know,” blaine says, lowering his voice to match hers, speaking the words directly into her ear. his hands push her shirt up higher and higher while he talks, until the fabric’s tucked beneath her chin and she’s shivering under his gaze. “if he didn’t figure it out, dionne totally told him.”

he’s probably right about that. dionne had seen straight through her easily, and kennedy knows she’s almost definitely well aware of every single thing that’s happened between them, even despite her best efforts to keep it quiet and skirt the topic of conversation whenever it comes up.

“i can still be quiet,” she returns finally, angling her head up and kissing blaine again before he can argue further, forgetting everything other than the lush safety of his mouth as soon as their lips meet.

“we’ll see,” blaine warns, breaking away abruptly and leaving her gasping to catch her breath while he slides down her body, finally kicking the messy sheets to the floor.

she pushes up onto her elbows, watching blaine slide her pajama pants down to her ankles. her eyes widen as she realize what he’s doing, though she hardly has time to say a word before he’s reaching for the delicate lace thong she’s wearing, pulling it carefully to the side.

blaine grins at her. “you sleep in these?”

kennedy huffs. “maybe.”

his smile turns crooked, the tilt of his lips endearing all over again. “cute,” he murmurs, leaning in and lowering his mouth between her legs, pressing a sucking kiss to the crease at the top of her thigh. 

she exhales, trying not to tense. the truth is that none of the other guys she’s ever dated were into this -- that sex before blaine had been largely perfunctory, that the way he makes her feel is totally and completely new and terrifying to her --

warm eyes find hers and pull her effortlessly from her meltdown. “hey,” blaine says gently, “stay here with me, okay?”

“okay,” kennedy returns, and then blaine bows his head again and he settles between her thighs and she forgets to panic in favor of how good it feels, each swipe of his tongue winding her up tighter until her back is arching up off the bed. “blaine,” she groans, all thoughts of being quiet following her nerves and reservations swiftly out the door, “god, fuck.”

she reaches down and pushes her fingers into his hair, anchoring herself to the moment. the little doubts that make her want to spiral are still there, in the back of her mind, but they’re much quieter with her gaze locked on the sight of his head dipped in low at the apex of her thighs, the warm pressure of his mouth slowly working her over.

sparks of pleasure sing down her spine, making her toes curl where her legs are splayed out wide. needlessly, blaine’s taking his time, like he has something to prove -- like he doesn’t already know how much she’s risking every day so she can prioritize him, like he isn’t aware of how little she cares about the trouble she’s in once they’re alone together.

she’s so caught up in the way he’s making her feel that it takes her by complete surprise when she tips over the edge, trembles shaking her body and making stars explode behind her eyes. 

it’s when she floats back to earth that she realizes how loud she’d gotten, and she can feel her face heat with embarrassment, her grip on his hair loosening until blaine can bounce back up and shake his head out, his tongue dragging along his grinning lips. “pretty good, i guess?”

“come here,” kennedy directs, still working to catch her breath. she’s dazed and not bothering to hide it, her gaze unfocused and hazy before blaine’s face crowds into her field of vision and she can narrow in on the way his obnoxious smile softens at its edges before they’re kissing again.

her body tangles around his and she sighs into his mouth as blaine lets her taste herself, his lips sliding over hers with purpose. every last one of her stressors fades away as she loses herself in the warmth of blaine’s kiss, their limbs twining together while they roll around on the mattress until she comes to a stop with her pants kicked off, perched in blaine’s lap, straddling his hips.

“nice view,” he comments hoarsely when they separate, each rough exhale underlining how affected he is. “but --”

she reaches down and pulls her top off before he can finish, drawing a laugh from blaine that sounds unnaturally loud in the otherwise silent stillness of his bedroom. “better?”

“oh, she reads minds now, too,” blaine murmurs, reaching out for her hips and pulling her in closer, groaning when she slides over the noticeable stretch at the front of his sweatpants. “is there anything you can’t do?”

“fuck you with your pants still on,” she answers breathlessly, emboldened by the way blaine’s looking at her -- by the way he hasn’t stopped looking at her, since she first showed up at his suite and maybe even before that, too.

her pulse stutters when he laughs at her again, more warmly this time. if she reads too deeply into it, blaine sounds both surprised and pleased by her forwardness, and something about thinking she might’ve impressed him makes her feel a little more confident -- like there might actually be something to this whole doing-her-own-thing and being-herself project she’s evidently excelling at, despite its newness.

“well, we can’t have that,” blaine smiles, and then his hips lift and he’s bare, too, looking up at her smugly like he knows he’s the best thing she’s ever seen.

irritatingly, nothing else comes to mind as even being close.

but his expression shifts as she draws closer for another kiss and he looks at whatever emotions are playing out across her face, reading her as effortlessly as always. something in his eyes gets a little more serious, his hands intentional when they slide down her back and his fingers fan out over her ass.

“you’re gorgeous,” he mutters angrily between quick kisses, like it’s ruining his day, somehow. 

“you, too,” she returns more sincerely, because -- it’s just true. he is. and despite every challenging complication, she’s glad she’s here with him, even if she’s headed down a path that’s going to make things with her mom impossible and the rest of her life a living hell. what’s happening now is independent of all of that, something she’s not ready to share with anyone else just yet.

anyone but blaine, that is.

his dark eyes skim slowly down her body and back up again, the curl of his lips tilting into something resembling wonderment. he seems just as amazed by the fact that she’s here as kennedy is, and for the first time, she doesn’t have to second guess how he feels about her. for once, she can read him perfectly, and all it makes her want is more. 

their lips meet in a kiss that’s uncharacteristically tender, so searching and sweet it leaves her short of breath. though they’re both eager to move things along there’s no rush, tonight, and she revels in their ability to take their time and enjoy themselves in private, away from the rest of the world. 

when she finally gets her hand around blaine and moves to connect them he looks lost, his eyes fixed on her face with something reminiscent of confusion lurking in them. as her hips sink down slowly, she remembers what he’d said to her on the ferris wheel before they’d kissed: this is new to me.

there’s something so comforting in knowing that, making her feel warm all over in a way that has nothing to do with where their bodies are joined and how she’s rocking her hips in his lap, gasping as they come even closer together.

her body leans down over his and their foreheads tip together; blaine lifts his hand to gently brush a lock of hair that’s dropped loose from her bun out of her eyes, and then there’s nothing between them at all -- nothing to stop her from staring at him when his hips thrust up to meet hers, nothing but the springs in the mattress bouncing and the sound of their breaths and one soft exhalation of her name that reads like something between a curse and praise. “kennedy. jesus christ.”

blaine’s hand cups her jaw and his thumb brushes over her cheek with a gentleness that makes her tremble, something she’d never expected and couldn’t have possibly prepared for. 

it feels like more -- like the more she’s been wondering about and wanting -- and if it’s not she has no idea how she’s ever going to recover. 

“i love this,” blaine murmurs against her lips, still touching her all over in an almost absent-minded way, his words thoughtful as his hips buck to meet her each time she rocks down against him. 

“me too,” she gasps, “i -- i’m -- god, blaine. feels good.”

“yeah?” there’s some urgency in his movements then, a new speed to the way his hips move. “tell me.”

“i’ve -- ever since the party, i’ve wanted to...” it’s too much. she screws her eyes shut tight, bracing her hands on his chest. 

it’s only when blaine’s thumb and forefinger squeeze her chin that she opens her eyes again, blinking at him imploringly in the hopes he’ll understand.

by some miracle, he does, rocking his hips up with a groan that leaves her lightheaded and again emphasizing, “i love this.”

“yes,” she breathes back, effortlessly reassured and tilting her head down for another kiss to try and express some of the overwhelming gratitude she feels for the way he just gets her, “yes, yes, blaine, i’m --”

it’s more intense than she expects, when he brings his hand between her legs and nudges her over the edge. stars explode behind her eyes and all she can focus on is blaine and the way he’s holding her, the grip of his free hand laced in hers a tight safety she leans into while she chokes back a loud moan of his name.

distantly, she can hear blaine echoing her with his own curses, his rhythm stuttering and then faltering until he tugs her into a desperate kiss, his groan muffled into her mouth when his lips slide sloppily against hers.

it takes her longer than she’d care to admit to catch her breath, and though she knows she’s dead weight on top of blaine’s chest she can’t quite bring herself to move, nuzzling her nose into the side of his neck with a sigh. 

blaine’s still for a long moment before he lifts his hand to her back and draws lazy circles between her shoulder blades, the rough pads of his fingertips skimming over her skin. “you good?”

“very,” kennedy yawns into his ear, laughing when he jerks to the right and shoves her off of him, back into the curve at his side that seems to be perfectly sized for someone her shape. 

with how she’s pressed up against him, the walk back across campus seems daunting. class in the morning is an even more miserable prospect.

“i’ll get up and fix the sheets if you sleep here,” blaine offers, like he can read her mind. the words make her freeze immediately, and she can’t help but notice how suddenly tense he is beside her, too, like he hadn’t intended for it to be a thing but now it is and there’s nothing he can do about it. the hand he has on her side tightens and relaxes abruptly. she can hear him clear his throat, and when he speaks again, it’s in the same forced-casual tone of voice he seems to love. “if you want.”

kennedy stares at the ceiling, unblinking. it looks exactly like the ceiling in her room, except that she feels eons closer to sleep here with blaine than she had back in her suite, for some reason. “okay,” she murmurs finally, reaching out and prodding his calf with her toes, “fix them.”

blaine rolls to his feet, and she takes advantage of the fact that he’s still naked to shamelessly ogle him, waiting until he’s got his back to her to whistle from where she’s curled up in his bed.

a pillow from the floor hits her in the head and makes her laugh, and then the sheet’s thrown over her hastily, followed by the blanket and the comforter in quick succession. 

a warm body launches itself at the bed and wriggles chaotically under the covers with her, effortlessly displacing the slight semblance of order he’d just organized. “i can’t believe you live like this,” kennedy says as blaine shifts in close, “next time you’re coming to my suite.”

“sorry it’s not up to your standards, first daughter.” blaine has to stretch to shut the bedside lamp off, and again she finds herself staring, admiring the way his muscles flex when his hand fumbles for the switch behind his back without twisting his body around, his refusal to take his eyes off her clear. “but i don’t know if i could get it up with your childhood boyfriend listening in on me.”

“oh my god, tatum is not -- we never -- jesus, you’re awful.” but her protests are half-hearted, bisected by another yawn. they have class in just a few hours.

and she has nothing to wear. 

though it’s hard to worry about anything with the way blaine is grabbing her and tugging her into his chest, folding her in along his body and tucking his head overtop of hers. kennedy starts to grin against his bare chest as they both curl up together under the covers.

“you never told me you were a cuddler.” 

“i’ll throw all these blankets back on the floor,” blaine threatens, “don’t think i won’t.”

she lifts her head and squints at him in the dark, still smiling. blaine’s eyes are shut peacefully, and she’d wager there’s not a thing in the world that could get him to move, just then. she slumps back against him with a laugh. “yeah, right.”

“i’ll do it,” he promises again, though his voice is fading fast. he sounds more relaxed and honest than she’s ever known him to be. “when you least expect it.”

well -- that was kind of his process for everything, wasn’t it? “shut up.”

“you shut up, i’m sleeping.” judging by the even rise and fall of his chest under her cheek, he’s close to it, and she’s just about there, too, soothed by the fact that she’s not alone for the first time in as long as she can remember.

“night, then,” kennedy murmurs softly, finally letting her eyes slide shut when his lips brush over the top of her forehead at her hairline, blaine’s fingers squeezing her shoulder one last time before they grow slack against her.

she winds up sleeping through four alarms, two classes and ten phone calls from tatum, but it’s all kind of worth it to wake up well-rested beside blaine in the morning -- so much so that even a nasty phone call from her mother can’t drag her back down to earth from where she’s floating happily on a high the kiss goodbye blaine had gifted her before she’d left to go back to her suite and shower had catapulted her up to without a prayer of coming down anytime soon. 

[soyouthinkucanwrite]

Chapter 2 - Show Time

2.8k words

Synopsys: The name of the series is super random, don't mind me. Reader is a postgraduate student at NYU, made a docuseries on her research, and the show got picked up by Netflix. She goes on a press tour and meets Tom on a ‘chat show’. They get together and she decides to stay for a few days in London with him. This could be an amazing few days or more? It’s been interesting writing how they’ll deal with distance and tight schedules once ‘honeymoon’ is over...

Heads up: my first language is Portuguese, so that might explain some things here - of course, I wrote thinking about myself hahaha

Warnings for the series: mention of illicit drugs, angst caused by distance, smut (next chapters, very explicit), anxiety caused by paparazzi, and rude random people taking photos.

Other than that, this is just my guilty pleasure writing so lots of caring sweet Tom and fluffiness.

Chapter 1 - A new city

Chapter 2 - Show time

Chapter 3 - Unexpected texts

Chapter 4 - A new day

No extra warnings. A lot of it was adapted from the real interview, so you might wanna watch it again before reading this, for refreshing. The docu-series doesn't have a name, so you can imagine your own favorite subject.

HEY THERE EVERYBODY! MY NAME IS TOM HANKS AND IT IS MY GREAT PLEASURE TO SAY WELCOME TO THE GRAHAM NORTON SHOW!

You walked down the corridor led by the stage assistant, but you could already hear the cheering and claps close by. “Don’t worry. There’s a monologue and then he’ll introduce you guys.” She smiled at you. You smiled back. Nervous smile.

“I think I need to poo.” You said.

“What?” She stopped and looked at you.

“No. I don’t really need to poo. I’m just really nervous.” You said. She definitely thought you were in way over your head.

“Okay, just wait there and you’ll go on stage when he calls your name. Frank is there to signal, don’t worry. Good luck!” She said and turned back running.

“Ok. Thank you!” You shouted after her but she was already gone.

“Shhh!” The other guy with a headpiece, Frank you assumed, shushed you.

“Sorry.” You whispered. You looked to the side and Jake Gyllenhaal and Tom Holland were talking. Jake was taller than you imagined. Tom was shorter.

“Oh don’t worry. You’re the star here, you can do whatever you want to.” An older voice said to you. He was obviously joking. You looked to see Tom Hanks. You smiled and nodded. God, please don’t let me freeze from starstruck now. Please.

“Ehh…” You’re pathetic.

“Hi!” Said Gwyneth Paltrow to everyone in the dark zone, having just arrived after you. Everyone responded excitedly.

“You guys are on. On my mark.” Said Frank pointing to Tom and Jake. They looked at you and said hello but you could barely answer before hearing Graham Norton’s voice going:

HES THE OSCAR NOMINATED STAR OF BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN, NIGHTCRAWLER, AND DONNIE DARKO. PLEASE WELCOME JAKE GYLLENHAAL!

And Jake went up the small flight of stairs. The curtains opened for a while and the sound got really loud and everything went bright. You took a look at Tom Holland and boy was he hot. He was looking at you too. You smiled and he smiled back.

HE’S YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD SPIDER-MAN. IT'S MISTER TOM HOLLAND!

“See you out there.” He said and walked out. You barely had time to process anything when Frank pointed at you and said: “You’re next”. You were still trying to remember how to walk when you heard:

SHE’S THE PRODUCER AND STAR OF A BRAND NEW NETFLIX DOCU-SERIES. STRAIGHT FROM NEW YORK: MISS (Y/N)!

Up you go. You walked out and Graham Norton went to greet you. He went for a kiss on the cheek and you went for a hug. Great. Off to a good start. He laughed it off and showed you the couch where Tom and Jake were standing in front and clapping. You went for a kiss on the cheek this time with both of them when you greeted them.

“Hi!” You said casually. Graham was speaking and soon Gwyneth was standing by your side. She greeted you and the actors by your side and then there was only Tom Hanks left. His introduction was longer and the cheering was way louder. But you weren’t surprised by that. This place was massive. There are so many people here. Way more than you’d think by watching from home.

“We met backstage.” Tom Hanks said pointing to the other guests on the couch.

“You all chatted backstage. I went backstage, I didn’t see the two of you. Nor you (y/n). Where were you guys?” Graham asked.

“We were there” Jake said.

“We waived” Tom said.

“Yeah, I- I was late.” You said laughing a little.

“Very suspicious. I bet you were having your own private party with your entourage.” Graham said making everyone laugh.

“Welcome all! Welcome all!” Graham went on to start the round of interviews and apparently, Tom Hanks was the first topic. You just smiled and laughed along, copying the way Gwyneth Paltrow was sitting and concentrating to keep your posture straight. Once in a while you would laugh and moment by moment you were getting more relaxed, even touching thighs with Tom accidentally when you laughed.

…

“I started recording Woody in 1991.” Tom Hanks said.

“Guess who wasn’t born then?” Graham said and both you and Tom raised our arms laughing.

“I was having sex I think, by 1991.” Gwyneth said.

“And so were our parents.” Said Tom gesturing between you and him. Everybody laughed.

“He probably meant his mom and his dad and my mom and my dad. Separately.” And everyone laughed even harder.

“Ok. We painted a picture now.” Graham said.

“You never know, it was a crazy time back then in 91” Jake added making everyone bust out laughing.

…

“Now, our newest guest tonight is the beautiful (y/n). This is your first time in the show!” Graham said looking at you. Oh boy. This is it.

“Yeah! This is crazy. Thank you for having me! And my first time in London!” You answered, blushing a little by the claps and cheering from the audience.

“Now, of course, (y/n) you’re the star and the producer of a documentary. The new Netflix series everybody is talking about. Have you guys seen it?” He asked the other guests.

“Absolutely! It's so good! I loved it!” Tom Hanks said. You stared at him like he just said the most absurd thing, and then Gwyneth said:

“We loved it! It's so different from everything we’ve seen out there.” She complimented you. You put your hands together and bowed your head in gratitude.

“I started watching it today when I knew you were coming here, but everybody is talking about it! It's so good! I wanted to binge-watch everything but then we had to come here.” Jake said.

“Own! Thank you, that’s very sweet.” You said.

“What about you Tom Holland? Have you seen it? Or have you guys met before? Because you have the same age, isn’t that right?” Graham asked him, pointing between the two of you.

“I was the one who told Jake to watch it! I must have seen it twice already!” He said laughing.

“What? Twice?” You laughed.

“Yeah because every time someone’s watching it if I’m passing by, I’ll just sit down and watch along. And all my friends decided to watch it now, it’s like some fever, I don’t know, it’s just really fun and you actually feel smarter binging it!” He said making everybody laugh along.

“But did you guys knew each other already? Because you sure sound like a fan!” Graham teased him. Tom shook his head no and you answered first.

“No…well, I know you. I definitely know all of you. But we’ve never met.” You said vaguely, trying to change the focus from you and Tom. But Graham was on a mission.

“Are you sure? Because the two of you weren’t seen early on backstage so I’m just wondering…” He said cheekily.

“I was late today! It was quite not British of me, I know, but we were very late so I didn’t get the chance to say hello before. Sorry, everyone” You said apologizing to everybody on the couch who waived and laughed politely.

“That’s quite alright. Thankfully you’re not British so we won’t punish you. Well, maybe we’ll leave that to Tom later if you’re into that sort of thing” Graham said making you and Tom very much embarrassed.

“These 90’s kids are crazy man” Jake added making everybody laugh.

“Anyway, we have a clip for you guys.” Graham announced.

[CLIP FROM THE SERIES]

“That’s so great! By the way, I introduced you saying ‘from new york’, because the show was taped there, but you’re not really from NY are you? You’re actually…uh… from (your city/country)! Is that right?” Graham asked you and the rest of the cast looked at you interested.

“Yes! That’s right. But I’ve been living in New York for a good while now so, that’s ok.” You answered.

“You’re getting your PhD, isn’t it?” Tom Hanks asked you.

“Yes, the show was part of my research, actually. I’m surprised you know that.” You said.

“Dude, I told you to pick up a book once in a while. Jake said teasingly to Tom, who just laughed and shook his head looking down.

“You guys are making this so much easier to me. Thanks!” He said sarcastically. Now it was your turn to get embarrassed.

“He’s right though, you might wanna step up your game here cause she’s both smart and beautiful. Do you speak…how many is it? 5 languages?” Graham stepped in.

“Well, I mean…sort of, yeah. I guess.” You answered kind of embarrassed for being in the spotlight, but glad it was about your brains and not looks.

“And the show is so good! I’ve seen a critic saying that is (your reference) meet Humans of NY. In a good way! Where the idea came from? Did you always wanted to film a tv show?” Graham asked you.

“Well, first of all. Thank you for the compliments and I’m truly honored by the comparison to (your reference) and Humans of NY, because I truly watch and admire those projects, so they’ve definitely inspired us. But uh…about filming a TV show, I guess not. I’m researching (your subject of preference). But I’ve always loved to, you know, get in there and get ‘my hands dirty’, I wouldn’t want to write about something I haven’t experienced. So I got to know so many incredible stories and amazing people. I followed their routines and there were so many great plots…I just couldn’t let that go. And I’m really glad I didn’t. It’s like we’re highlighting the extraordinary in the ordinary. I’m really glad people liked it as much as I did because it would have been really heartbreaking if nobody cared, I guess.” You laughed. Everyone was staring at you in awe. You got really excited when you were talking about this project. Maybe a little too excited.

“How did you do that by the way?” Gwyneth asked you.

“Did what?” you said.

“Get them to care about it. To give it a shot.” She explained.

“I’m not sure. I think there’s so much noise out there. And everyone is just competing for our attention, but they don’t always have anything to say. And these people have so much to say. To teach us. I just tried to show that.” You answered honestly.

“Well, thank you for that. And not jinx anything, but I have a feeling we’ll be hearing a lot more about you too. Any new projects coming soon?” He asked you.

“Uh…not really. I’m just living in this high for now, I guess. But it really has already opened so many doors, I’m very grateful for that.” You answered honestly.

“And your boyfriend must be really proud too" Graham asked teasingly.

“No, no boyfriend.” You answered suspiciously.

“Ah! Of course.” He winked nothing discreetly in Tom’s direction.

“So there’s a chance Tom! You might want to pay attention to this next one. Gwyneth Paltrow! What is this I hear about vagina steaming?” Graham continued making everyone bust out laughing.

…

The show went on and soon, the topic was Tom again. “I was making a film with Doug Liman, in Montreal. And I was playing a real tough kid and he asked me to grow as much facial hair as I could.” Tom told everybody. You just looked very closely at him, because his face was very much hairless.

“I think we got a picture.” Graham said. And then everybody was laughing out loud.

“(y/n)? Is your heart won yet?” Graham teased. You just laughed.

“Oh come on! The kid’s got better moments! You got to give him a chance!” He teased some more.

“Oh man! What is going on with this show? I swear I did not put him up to this!” Tom said looking at you and you just laughed awkwardly.

“It’s true! I did!” Jake said laughing and then got up to high five Graham.

“You know, if this wasn’t going so badly I’d ask if my mom put you up to this. Cause she’s the only other person I know who’s so focused on getting me matched.” You teased.

“You think its going badly?” Tom asked and the crowd “aww” loudly. Silence and some laughs.

“Right, moving on.” Graham joked and everybody laughed. You were feeling a little awkward, especially because you did not want him to think you weren’t interested, just not while in a tv show. But you can’t get things mixed up. This stuff is new to you, but you’re not some schoolgirl. Focus on the job. Stormzy was singing now, so the show must be almost over.

…

“Oh this is wicked! I was really happy when I saw you’d be here!” Stormzy said when he sat on the couch.

“Me? Wow! Really?” you asked him, surprised.

“Oh-oh looks like you got competition Tom Holland” Graham joked and Tom just laughed and shook his head.

“Well cause your show is just really cool” He said to me.

“Wow! Thank you for saying that!” You couldn’t believe this, someone from all across the world liked something you did. You’re going to get emotional.

“You know that we live really close to each other?” Tom asked him.

“Is it? Where do you live?” Stormzy answered and the conversation went on.

AND THAT’S IT FOR THE SERIES! IF YOU’D JOIN ME NEXT WEEK FOR A LOOK BACK AT SOME OF THE HIGHLIGHTS OF THE PAST 12 WEEKS. WE’LL BE BACK IN THE AUTUMN, TILL THEN HAVE A GREAT SUMMER! GOOD NIGHT EVERYBODY BYE BYE!

This was becoming routine now, but there’s no other way to describe it other than to say that you loved and hated every minute of it. Well, at least it’s done now. The lights went out and when everybody stopped clapping and cheering the producer approached you guys and said you were taking a picture. Graham went for the back of the couch and everyone snuggled a little closer. Tom put his hand on your thigh and you instinctively looked at it. “Sorry.” He mumbled and took it off. You just smiled and shook your head lightly. After some pictures, you made sure to thank everybody and say how much of a fan of them you are. When it was your turn to talk to Tom he said laughing: “Sorry about that whole thing” You could tell he was uncomfortable.

“No, common! He was playing with us. Well, you more.” You dismissed.

“Yeah! It was fun though. Had a great time, it was great to meet you!” He said politely.

“You too. Love your movies! Can’t wait to see the new one.” You offered and heard someone calling your name.

“Right this way Miss.” The stage assistant called.

“Ok, so…bye! Good luck on growing your facial hair!” What. You. Idiot. He just laughed it off. And touched his chin.

“Right. I’ll try my best. Thank you! Good luck with (your research subject)” He said back.

“Alright, thanks” You had to go, the stage assistant was getting impatient. “Bye Tom.” You offered your hand and he hesitated a bit before taking it and shake.

“Bye (y/n).” He said.

David was already waiting for you down the small flight of stairs. “That was really great! Congratulations!” He hugged you.

“That…wasn’t bad, right?” You said. “I actually had fun.” You completed while you two made your way to the little room where you did your makeup and hair earlier.

[beerecordings]

Okay, here is part three of the latest Marvin's Cage story. Find the whole story so far here Let me know if you enjoy! Thanks for reading. Tws for mentions of possible cannibalism, mentions of past torture, panic attacks, and imprionsment . Light through the side of his box. “Marvin, Marvin,” he mouths, soundless, tears in his eyes. “Brother, brother.” Marvin does not come. “Jameson,” the soft voice is calling. “JJ. We won't hurt you, I promise."

No. This is not right, not right! This has never happened! He clutches at his hair and bites down on the collar of his shirt, tears racing down his face. They need to go away! They're not supposed to be here! They're not supposed to know! Marvin will be so, so, so angry! He can't do it again, can't go back to being alone alone alone alone. His skin so untouched it hurts, so he scratches at it, at his lonely skin, his lonely bones. Marvin will not touch him hold him call him little brother. He can't go back. Makes his brain so numb and then so crazy. Can't can't can't. “Jamie, breathe, Jamie – ” “Give him space, dude! He's scared of us. Jameson... just... he's really just – ” “Marvin did this to him!” He flinches at the loudness of the voice, biting his collar til he feels thread tear. No, no, no. This is Marvin's worst nightmare. His brothers know about him, and they're angry at Marvin. Angry at Marvin who was just protecting all of them, who takes care of him and loves him. This can't be happening. They need to understand. How does he make them understand? How does he even try to explain when his heart is beating so hard it hurts all the way up to his throat and he can't stop crying? This is why you can never fight Anti off, sneer an old pair of hands in his head. You're the most pathetic little creature ever to walk across the earth. Of course Marvin locked us away. Him and Anti are both right. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he signs desperately. “Brother, brother, M! Please! I want M!” “It's been so fucking long since I took that BSL course. I'm the worst brother.” “Don't start, Jackie, shit. I don't think I ever bothered trying to learn for more than, like, two Youtube videos. Schneep would know. He learned it in about three days and he doesn't forget things.” “Brother – that was brother, I remember! Yeah, JJ, we're your brothers, dude. I mean, if you want us to be. Can you just – please, breathe.” No, they don't understand. These are not JJ's brothers. These are Marvin's brothers. It's a term of endearment more than anything technical: the relationship does not transfer. Marvin always made that very clear and JJ understands. Chase and Schneep and Jackie are not dangerous like he is. Chase and Schneep and Jackie do not have to live in cages, and they get to come find Marvin whenever they want, and they can have things like their own money and lots of friends. They can walk around the city at their leisure. See the sky. Have jobs. Walk around stores and talk to girls and make friends. They pick out their own food and books and toys. They're nice people who have never killed anyone or stabbed each other or made Marvin so upset that he burned their faces on accident and left them alone for days at a time. Schneep is even a doctor who saves lives, and Jackie is a real-life superhero, and Chase has babies who love him. Of course Marvin had to keep them safe from JJ. He's just grateful that Marvin never listened to him when he would beg to get out. Marvin even took care of him when he could have so easily left him to rot like he deserves. “JJ, JJ, please. You can trust us. Didn't you say you remembered me? Please, please, I'm begging you – come here.” Yes, of course he remembers Jackie – remembers the warm voice trying to calm him for hours, and the gloved hand in his own, and the presence watching over him as he drifted close to sleep, the safe and loving presence. How could he forget it? Some days, it is all he thinks about. But it's not something he can have. No, he won't come out. He won't risk making Marvin angry, and he certainly won't let Marvin's brothers get hurt because of him. He will stay here alone like he has to. He is a good boy like Anti told him, like Marvin told him. He is good and he is not hurting anyone ever again. He is staying right here. “Fine, I'll go to him,” comes a vehement voice, and then someone is pushing at the broken wood around his door. Jameson sucks in a wheezing scream and darts behind the curtain over his little bathroom, shoving himself between the wall and the toilet

and squeezing himself into as tight a ball as he can manage around his little stuffed dog, the first present Marvin ever brought him. Jackie can't come in here – neither of them can! Anti will kill them! “Jackie, he's freaking out, stop, stop!” There's a low howl of frustration, but no one comes any closer. His box falls quiet again with nothing but soft murmuring from Marvin's brothers as JJ sobs, biting at deep scars in his palms, the result of being possessed on repeat by a demon with a passionate love of any kind of blade. His hands raise the knife – no hilt. The blade goes down, goes into his palms, goes down, goes into his palms. Goes into her chest. He can hear her screaming. Can hear himself laughing. There's blood in his mouth that isn't his. His birds are already picking at her as she suffocates around the silver of the knife. The bugs are creeping onto her flesh and crawling up his shirt. No, no, no! If Marvin would come – if Marvin would quiet the memories like he always does – But Marvin does not come. Marvin does not come find him. Alone, alone, alone. “JJ, JJ,” they are calling to him, begging at him, but this is not something he can let himself have. He'd rather die right here. No, no, no, no. He is not going anywhere. Ever. His little stuffed dog is licking at his face. He closes his eyes and rubs its fur til the panic fades. His good dog, good boy. He drifts in his head. He's playing with his dog in the yard. Marvin is on the porch reading. The sun is warm. His dog licks his face. He is staying right here... everything is okay... there you go, JJ. There you go. There's a good little brother. You know how much I hate to see you cry. Cut it out, okay? I don't want to hear that anymore. Be good and I'll come back tomorrow. Be good and stay right here. Yeah, he's good. He's good. And when he's good, Marvin comes back again. Marvin will come back. . The soft scrape of cardboard on wood wakes him. He sits in the darkness behind his privacy curtain. Things are quiet again. “I wish he would just...” “I know. But you can't stay here all day.” “Well, neither can he!” “Shhh, keep your voice low. He obviously does, I mean...” The voices devolve back into incomprehensibility, too soft for him to understand. He wipes at his ruddy, weary face and sniffs, curled up against the side of the toilet. He's a little germ freak, as Marvin says, but he doesn't have to worry. He cleans everything every morning so Marvin will not think he's messy. The decorations are always dusted and straightened. He wipes the toilet and his little mirror down, and the sink too, so it's clean when Marvin comes in to shave him on Wednesdays. He isn't allowed to have a razor in here – Anti will try to cut him up again – but Marvin takes care of him anyway. The bathroom smells like their shaving cream and the lemon scent of his cleaners, stacked neatly on the shelves in his back-left corner next to his laundry: Marvin's clothes and some old t-shirts and sweatpants. He isn't allowed to wear anything that isn't Marvin's. Marvin has to be the one to put it through the wash, and if his brothers saw it, they would ask why he was washing things that did not belong to anyone in the house. JJ lets out a tired sigh, a little soothed by the quiet and the reminiscing. Marvin takes care of him. Still, he wants to know what that sound was. When Jackie and Chase's distant voices stay distant, he squeezes his dog for courage and creeps out from behind the curtain, blinking at the light of his sun lamp. The leaves of his plants and the lead in the drawings on the walls gleams quietly in the yellow glow. His place, his things, his presents from Marvin and pictures of Marvin and his shared space with Marvin. Maybe when he comes to see him, they can lie down on the mattress and have a nap, or play some games, or watch pictures on Marvin's magic screen together. Yeah, he feels better. Yeah, there's my tough guy. Stop crying, JJ, I mean it. He gets to his feet and sneaks over to the sill of his box where Marvin sometimes leaves him

things. There's a little pad of paper on his shelf, the sort of book you might use to make grocery lists or notes to pin up on the fridge. He pulls it towards himself, looking right and left for one of Marvin's brothers to leap out at him, but nothing happens. Hi, JJ,reads the first page, in messy, crooked handwriting. My name's Chase (I'm the one in the grey shirt) and Jackie is the one in the red hoodie. He doesn't know what a hoodie is. He glances down the way Marvin usually comes from and can still hear them talking. I'm sorry if we scared you. We're still figuring out what's going on. You don't have to get close to us if you don't want to (but I promise we won't hurt you if you do). I thought it would be easier for you to have a pen and some paper. Is there anything you need? Or anything we can do to show you we are on your side? Do you remember us? I also left some food by your door. It's perfectly safe, I promise. I will eat some with you if you want. Please don't be scared. We aren't with Marvin right now, or Anti. We are not going to let anyone hurt you. If there is anything we can do to help please tell us. I hope you do remember us a little bit. If you don't, though, we want to say hi! Maybe you can write me back? The paper is all for you. - Chase There are some smiley faces and even a little drawing of the plate of food on the paper. JJ glances over at his door. A dish with rice and meat is tucked on the plate alongside fat slices of oranges, a neat line of bright green cucumbers with ranch drizzled on, and a big sweet-looking roll with pecans. His mouth waters. He listens for Marvin's brothers one more time, and when they're still far away, he steps over to pick up the plate and brings it back to his mattress, sitting down and eating with relish. It's hot and fresh and home-made, better than he remembers food tasting. Most of the stuff he gets is take-out from a restaurant or leftovers. Not that he minds! It's just a lot of tasty food. He's eating faster than he means to, scooping the rice up with his plastic silverware and tearing the soft bread of the roll between his teeth. Meat between his teeth – hot flesh, red blood – Anti's smile is crimson and beaming, his own eyes are wild with delight – cannibal – No, no. He hugs himself for a few minutes and goes through the breathing exercises Marvin taught him. He's okay. He does not eat all the beef, but he eats everything else, scooping up the leftover ranch with his spoon and licking his fingers clean of the orange juice and sticky frosting from the roll. His stomach hurts with how full he is. It's a good feeling. “Jameson?” He jerks upright, pupils blown. A figure leaps back from his window. “Sorry! I just – I was just checking if you wrote me back or – sorry, I'll give you some space...” He backs away again. Jameson grabs at his chest, shuddering. Sudden voices in his box only ever mean Anti until today. And Anti – Anti hurts him. Even when they're playing. He doesn't think Anti ever learned how not to hurt someone. He thinks that's why he plays like that – testing his limits. Interested in human suffering as a primary characteristic. He plays with the edge of Chase's note, trying to think. He hasn't talked to anyone but Anti and Marvin in so long. What would Anti say? Pet, look, he's almost as pretty a present as you were. Oooh, but already a scar in his head. Who wants a scar on him I did not put there? Hm. Still pretty though. He looks like my master. Tell him to come over here and snuggle with us, Jameson. I will wrap my hands around his throat and see if he chokes the same way Jack does. Jameson chews on the end of his pencil, sighing. They need to stay away. What would Marvin say? Who, Chase? He's my baby brother. I guess I was always pretty attached to him. I was all jealous when Jack added Schneep, and I do snap at Jackie a little when he ticks me off. Chase, though, he's my – he's my little brother, you know? He's a special person. Well, anyway, it was him you stabbed the night I had to lock you up. Within about five

minutes of finding you, you stabbed one of us. I started to imagine what would happen if we just let you roam free and... you get it, right? Why I had to? Yes. Of course he does. This is what he needs to express. He clears his throat and sets his pencil shakily to paper. Dear Chase, Thank you for my dinner. It was very tasty. You are a good cook. I do remember a little of that night you all found me, but not much. I was rather unwell. I am dearly sorry for stabbing you and I hope your shoulder has healed well. I should not like to stab you again, but I do not always have a choice. Unfortunately, despite Marvin's best efforts to find a way to help, I still fall victim to possession against my will. Please leave me alone so I do not stab you or your brothers. If you will get Marvin for me he will know how to fix the box. I am not bothered by your presence but the thought of what might happen to you is very alarming. It would be in the best interest of you and your family to kindly exit this place and leave me to my own devices. There is no need to be concerned about anyone hurting me, though I appreciate your worry on my behalf. Thank you for your time and understanding, and, again, for the food. Sincerely, Jameson Jackson There. That's okay, isn't it? Maybe? P.S. I would like to see Marvin very much. Is he all right? Thank you. Okay, there. Then he will not have to wonder. Hopefully everything's okay and Chase can go bring Marvin for him. Then things will go back to normal. Things will go back to... To normal. Normal is good. Normal is... His box is quiet. The light gleams on the leaves and the lead. There are scratchmarks in the wood where he has tried to claw his way out during breakdowns. He closes his eyes. Things will go back to normal. He can never leave. He lets himself drift off in his mind again, walking in circles around his box with his eyes closed. He's on a beach with his dog and a big family... little kids come running up to him and he picks them up and plays with them in the ocean, yanking them back from the waves or ducking them under the water while they shriek in delight. The sun is so warm and the sand is hot between his toes. Marvin is suntanning on the beach while Chase and Jackie play in the sand beside him, and everyone is laughing. His box is dead quiet. Not even the wind to keep him company. Alone, alone, alone. . “I'll kill him, I'll kill him.” “Jackie. Breathing.” “I'll – oh, he – I'll tear him to pieces, look at this, he – I'll kill him, I'll destroy him, how could he...?” “Jackie. Jackie.” Chase is so tired he doesn't even get to his feet to try and calm Jackie down. He's slumped across the couch of the living room with Queenie on his stomach, kneading her claws into his t-shirt and purring. Her belly's all swollen with kittens, but instead of becoming more reclusive like a normal cat mother, she has decided she wants to be on top of someone twenty-four hours a day. Chase scratches her ears and sighs. “How could he do this?” groans Jackie, for perhaps the hundredth time today. Chase still doesn't have an answer. Jackie is clutching JJ's note in his hands tightly enough that he's definitely torn a hole or two in it. “He made him think he has to be – he has to be in this box. He – he won't come out to me. He won't come out to me.” Chase reaches for Jackie's jacket, catching his sleeve, and tugs his brother down onto the couch beside him. “Jackie. This note – it could be good news.” Jackie looks at him like he's finally lost it. “Hear me out! I know it's... not great that he seems to think he really does have to stay in there. But Jackie, look, he's not scared of Marvin! What if we jumped to conclusions about how this went down?” “He locked my little brother in a box,” says Jackie flatly. “But what if JJ asked him to do that?” Jackie blinks and looks down at the smudged note. “He... does seem to think he's dangerous.” “And, well, he is, isn't he?” “Don't say that.” “Jackie, it's just facts. Er, not JJ, I mean. Anti is the dangerous one, but he uses the

little man like a weapon. That's not his fault, but it's the truth. He did stab me that night.” “Anti stabbed you!” “Yes. But he used JJ's hands. Jackie, is it so wild to think that maybe JJ was just so scared by the things Anti has made him do that he actually asked Marvin to help him protect us from him?” Jackie's eyes water. He shakes his head. Chase sighs and touches his brother's shoulder. “It still wasn't right of Marvin to do what he did. He definitely should have talked to all of us about it and not left us thinking something terrible had happened to him. But if JJ really came to you and begged you to keep him away from us – well, maybe, as a temporary solution, you might take him somewhere safe and secluded, and take care of him yourself, right? Maybe not a little locked box, but... somewhere. It's not – Jackie, it's not unthinkable.” Jackie just shakes his head, staring down at that note. “What's wrong?” asks Chase softly. “Wanted to make him feel safe,” croaks Jackie. “I should have – if I had made him feel safe, he wouldn't have thought he needed to be locked away. And Marvin – yeah, should have told me. Even if JJ did beg. My baby brother.” After a long day, the tears are finally coming dripping down Jackie's face. “I know, man,” whispers Chase. Jackie falls against his shoulder. Chase wraps his arm around him. Queenie nudges her way into their laps and sits contentedly down, purring like a little motorboat. “Maybe JJ and Marvin really were just working together to protect us,” mumbles Jackie. “Maybe he did take good care of him. If he had told us, maybe it is... thinkable.” “I shouldn't have told Marvin we weren't brothers anymore.” Chase rubs at his face. “I was too quick to think it was the worst scenario.” “No, it's not your fault,” replies Jackie softly. “It's his for not telling us, so it really did look like the worst scenario – and my fault, for exploding on him instead of listening. I should have been calmer.” “I honestly think you were surprisingly restrained for the situation,” says Chase, a little amused. “If it were true that he just locked JJ up against you will, you oughta have kicked his ass.” Jackie snorts, rubbing at his face. “Yeah. I guess. I don't know, though. There's just... there's something really off about that box. The kids' toys and the – I don't know. I get a really bad feeling. It's hard to describe.” Chase hums and nods. “Well, what we need to do is talk to JJ more, right?” Jackie perks up, glancing over at him. “Right. Figure all this out.” Chase smiles at him. The weight on his chest is so much lighter than it was a few hours ago. This – this makes so much more sense than what they thought before. Of course it was unimaginable that Marvin would lock JJ up like a prisoner against his will and abandon him in there, unloved. What he did was still wrong, but this alternative is so much lighter than that one. Maybe they can still fix this. Marvin could come back with Schneep, and once they were all on the same page Marvin would apologize for leaving them out of the loop. Together, they'll all be able to find a better way to keep JJ safe from Anti. Then they can all be together like they're supposed to be. Yeah. He can see it now. Marvin and Schneep will come back home, and JJ will come out of the box, and everything will be wonderful. Just a few hours ago, that seemed so impossible. “You're crying again,” says Jackie, touching his face. “Chase?” “No, it's okay,” chuckles Chase, wiping at his face. Happy tears. He's so relieved it hurts in his chest. For a few hours there, he really thought Marvin might have done something that cruel. But not his brother. Not his Marvin. No wonder it didn't make sense. It wasn't true. He should have known Schneep was right. Schneep is always right. Chase chuckles, shaking his head. “Just a rollercoaster day, that's all.” “No fucking kidding. I'm going to go write back to JJ. Do you want to come with?” “No, no, I think I'll get started on dinner.” Chase has already moved on to their reunion meal in his head. He'll cook

something Marvin loves and make JJ so much good food they can't even eat it all. Bread, ice cream, pasta, casserole... there's so many options. Maybe he'll just make everything. His heart is light again. It's going to be okay. “Okay, then,” says Jackie, heading back towards the mirror. “I'll be in there with him if you need me.” “Got it,” Chase replies, getting up to head to the kitchen. “Oh, um – Chase?” “Yeah?” He turns back towards his brother. Jackie smiles at him in the evening light. “I'm really glad you're here.” Chase smiles back. “Me too,” he says.

Things are going to be different. But surely, surely - they have to turn out okay. Just this once.

. Dear JJ, I don't really know how to right to you. This is Jackie. I'm glad you remember me a little. I'm your older brother. You don't want to come out of the box? When did that start? Was it your idea to be locked up like that? I guess I can see how you would think you could be dangerous. Trust me, I've encounterred Anti enough times to get it but if you give me a chance I promise I will keep you safe. JJ there has to be a better way then you being locked up like that! I don't even care if you and Marvin thought it was a good idea it's terrible. You do not have to be a prisoner you are my brother. I really want you to come stay with me. What can I do to get you out of there? I will do anything to make you feel safe, JJ. I promise I will keep you safe. Marvin is okay. He's just staying at another house right now. He knows I am talking to you. I'm worried about how he might have treated you, can we talk some more before you talk to him? Tell me about how he treats you. I want you to be able to make your own choice. Don't worry about him, okay? Who decided you should be in that box? I want you to be here with me. I really want you to be here with me and I promise I will keep you safe. Maybe we can talk face-to-face? Even though I'm bad at sign languge. I have wanted to see you for a really long time. I love you. I don't care if you hid from me or if Anti has used you, that doesn't matter now, none of us ever blamed you for Chase's shoulder. I've been looking for you, JJ. I've been looking for you this whole time. I thought about you every day. I would have looked forever if I had to. Every day of my life. If you think you have to stay in that box, please tell me why. I need to understand. I won't lose you again. You won't lose me too. I'm your big brother and I really want you to be here. I promise I will keep you safe. JB . Dear Jackie, Please, just go. You weren't supposed to know. I will be in trouble and I will hurt you. It is my fault. I'm not like you. I can't fight Anti. I'm not what you think I am. I'm sorry. I'm sorry you looked. He said maybe he would tell you I was dead, but he knew you would not stop looking unless there was a body, so he couldn't even though he wanted to. He loves you. He didn't want you to be in pain. But he didn't know how to stop it either. He cried over it so much. Maybe now that you know, you won't have to worry about me anymore, and you and Marvin can be happy again. I'm happy here. Marvin has taken such good care of me. He treats me very well. Please go home to your brothers and don't think about me. I'm sorry I made you all so sad for so long. Sincerely, JJ There are patches of wetness on the pages. . JJ, who decided you should be in that box? Tell me. . This time, there is no answer. Big blue eyes look up at Jackie from the corner of the cage, and all he wants is to go in there with him. But when he moves forward, JJ flinches and flees back to the bathroom, and all Jackie can do is sink down beside the cage, hold his head in his hands, and try not to think about the words he wanted to tell you I was dead. . Chase: Schneep you ok Schneep: Yeah. We're at Stacy's Chase: Did you tell her Schneep: Kind of. Still not sure really what happened Chase: Us either dude. Marvin say anything more? It sounds like maybe he and JJ both decided he should be locked up or whatever Schneep: He is all freaked out still. I gave him something to calm him down and he fell asleep. I am worried though. He insists the Jameson must be kept in the box. I think Anti is pulling strings Chase: I don't have any idea what's happening at this point Schneep: How is he? Chase: Very shy. Scared of us. He also thinks he has to stay in the box Schneep: Healthy? Chase: He kind of hides. Won't let us in to see him Schneep: I come by tomorrow and check on him Chase: Ok, sounds good. Tell me if anything changes? Schneep: Yes I will Chase: And say hi to the kids for me. Maybe not a good idea for me to have them this weekend after all Schneep: No worries. We will figure everything

out, my friend. Take care of JJ for me Chase: You take care of Marvin. I think it's going to turn out alright. Schneep: Yes, it will. See you tomorrow, love you Chase: Love you . There's blood in his mouth. JJ circles his cage, using a rag to clean the walls and wipe down the boxes and sink. When it's clean, he sits down again, reaching for his violin. There's blood in his mouth. He gets up again and wets the rag. Circles the cage and wipes down the walls and boxes and sink. He sits down and rubs at his face, exhausted. There's blood in his mouth. No. The box is clean. He's not going to clean it again. There's blood in his throat. He covers his face in his hands. Stop imagining it, JJ. Distract yourself. His dog licking at his face, warm sand between his toes, Marvin is holding him – Blood in his throat. In his teeth. He picks flesh out from between his molars. Copper tang against his tongue. He feels the weight of the blood settle in his stomach. He bites into flesh. Jameson. I am not going to listen to this story again. That's fucked. Anti isn't here. Stop crying, okay? The corpse is going cold beneath his fingers. Anti is laughing. The blade swirls around in his hands. He is torn between hoping Anti will stop possessing him so he can have even a minute alone in his own head and praying that Anti never leaves again, because when he does, that is when JJ becomes the victim of his curiosity. There's blood in his mouth. JJ gets up and wets the rag. Circles the cage and wipes down the walls and boxes and sink. “Jameson,” murmurs Jackie. “Are you okay?” He's standing just outside the box, looking at him. JJ avoids his gaze, scrubbing the clean right wall with vigor. Jackie doesn't seem to want to hurt him. He supposes that makes sense. It's not Jackie JJ should worry about – it's what Anti might do to Jackie that's concerning. He wishes Marvin's big brother would leave. “Can you show me your stuffed animals?” asks Jackie. “Or your puppets? Why do you have all those?” JJ pauses, chewing on his nails as he glance at his animals, arranged neatly on his mattress. The finger puppets are in their box by the barred window. They're just for fun. For distraction. He knows each of them intimately. All the puppets have names and families and jobs and aspirations. All the animals have their own place in the world in his head. It's just a game. It's just a game he plays for hours at a time. He tells the same stories on repeat. The important part is that he knows they're not real people right now. Marvin was so relieved. There's blood in his mouth. He circles his cage. Cleans the walls and boxes and sink. It's already clean. He knows it's already clean. “Do you play the violin?” JJ pauses again, eyes flickering over to Jackie. Yes, he does. For hours a day. “Would you show me?” asks Jackie gently. JJ hovers. He's not sure he should. But he never gets to show anyone except Marvin and the toys. It would be nice. He never got to show anyone Marvin's birthday song. It's not going to hurt Jackie. It's just his music. He picks the violin tentatively up. Sets it back down again. Jackie is looking at him uncertainly from the window, smiling a faint, confused smile. Fuck's sake, he's – he's weird, isn't he? Not Jackie – JJ. He turns away from Marvin's brother, biting at his nails again. It's been so long since he interacted with anyone other than Marvin and Anti. What must he look like to Jackie? He's treating him like he's so fragile. Maybe he is. But this is how he lives. This is how he has to live. He used to fight. Does Jackie know that? Does Jackie know that there were days that he would come out of possession kicking and striking at Anti, spitting at him and writhing before Anti could stuff him back into whatever hiding place he had found to contain him? Does Jackie know that JJ used to curse at Marvin and demand to be let go? That he eventually crumpled beneath the isolation and the monotony and just collapsed in on himself, sitting mindless for days at a time no matter how much Marvin begged at him to

get up? Does Jackie know that he hates this? There are tears dripping onto the violin set beneath his chin. He can't think like this. This is where he has to stay. He can't go. He can't leave. There is blood in his mouth. This is what he has to do. He can't tell on Marvin, can't tell Jackie that Marvin dragged him into this box and locked him up while he cried. This is what he deserves because he's done so many bad things and he will do so many more if he is released. Oh, there is blood in his mouth. He can't get out. He has to be a good boy – he has to stay – he has to – “Major freak-out,” he signs to himself. This is what Marvin calls a major freak-out. Yeah. Okay. “Have to stay calm, JJ, you can't come out of your cage. “Come hold me, Marvin, please! “If you calm down I'll come in there. Okay? “Please can I come out just for a few minutes? Oh, God, I want to see a priest. Are you going to keep me here my whole life? I'll die here! I'm going to die here? I can't take it anymore! I can't take it! Oh, God, I want to see the sky, I want to hear birds, oh, God, our father, who art in Heaven – “JJ, be good. Penguin, stop that. You know you can't come out. So be calm. I'm working on finding a solution. “But you never do, you never do!” “JJ.” And now the voice does not sound like Marvin's. JJ isn't sure why. He keeps signing to himself, circling his cage, chewing on his collar. He talks to Marvin. Marvin isn't there, but he knows what he will say. Yes, Marvin is here. They're talking and hugging each other, yes, Marvin is making it better. Marvin isn't here. “Jameson, hey. Jamie, can you look at me? Jamie, can I come in there with you?” Yes, yes, he wants that! He hates to be alone for freak-outs. They last hours and sometimes he slams his head against the wall so hard the light hurts his eyes for days. Sometimes he scratches at the wood til his nails split. Sometimes he clings to Anti and begs him to take him away from this place, because even the torture and the killing would be better than sitting in this same – fucking – spot – for the rest of his miserable existence. He hates to be alone. Alone, alone, alone. “Please, please,” he begs. “Please, please.” “Okay, I'm coming, Jamie, I'm coming.” Marvin doesn't call him Jamie, but it doesn't matter, because a moment later, there are arms around him. There's no torture quite like the touch-starvation, and JJ is someone who knows torture. When Marvin started touching him and hugging him and sitting with him, it changed everything. And the most wonderful part about it is how those months of his skin crawling and his brain going numb and foggy with a bizarre and visceral sort of insanity as he rubbed at his own skin and rocked and day-dreamed about being touched til he could hallucinate it – they all just fade into the background when someone puts their arms around him. He latches on like a cat in a tree. Octopuses himself around their body. And in return – joy of joy, he is being squeezed back, squished against their body and rocked. He is scooped all the way off his feet, making him giggle. He buries his head in their shoulder and shakes, pressed so tightly together it's a little hard to breathe. “My little brother, my little brother,” someone is singing. “My JJ. Here you are. I have you back again, I have you.” He's grabbed by the waist and spun in a circle before he's drawn back to their chest. He laughs weakly and hears them laughing back. “Here you are. Chase was right. This is all that matters. You are everything that matters.” Kisses along the side of his head. Hands on his back and cupping his head. He's rocked back and forth, back and forth. Steady and strong. Gloved hands. A red hood. The smell of rain and sweat and coconut on the jacket. And that feeling – that feeling of safety... Yeah. He remembers. How could he forget? When this was what he dreamed about for so long? Jackie is holding him. His awareness comes back to him in pieces as he comes down from the second or third panic attack of the day. Jackie has crashed down onto the

mattress with him. He's being held like a little kid, but Jackie doesn't seem bothered by his weight or his neediness. Jackie just clings to him. Clings to him as tight as he's clinging to Jackie. JJ cries quietly as he comes back to himself. Jackie wipes at his face and hums to him, nonsense music in the air. “My JJ, my JJ.” He doesn't seem bothered by the crying either. “I missed you, JJ.” His voice breaks. Jackie coughs and kisses the side of his head one more time, his voice fading away. “Have to go,” signs JJ, crying into his chest. “Have to go, before he hurts you!” “I'm so sorry, James, I never really got to practice with the sign language, I should have worked harder...” “Go, go!” He points to the door. “Go away!” Jackie shakes his head at him. JJ should push him away, but he just – he just can't. Marvin will kill him for this. Anti will kill Jackie for this! “Nothing's going to hurt you anymore,” whispers Jackie. “Never, you're never leaving my sight again. I'm never going to let anything happen to you ever again.” And he wants it to be true so badly it hurts. He just clings to Jackie, shaking. “Oh! He let you get in there with him!” A new voice in the expanse of the mirrors. JJ feels Jackie nod. “Do you guys... do you want some space?” “Yeah, please,” whispers Jackie. “Maybe he'll let you come in too in a minute, but if we could just... just get a minute...” “Just text me if you need anything.” And it's just him and Jackie in the quiet of his box again. “Nothing matters but this,” sings Jackie, brushing at his hair. “My baby brother. I love you.” Love, love, love. He closes his eyes and holds to Jackie, and just for one moment of weakness, he lets himself have this.

[dontmindmyshadowhunting]

Welcome to Faerieland (Fan Fic) - Chapter 9 - The house in the hollow hill

This is Chapter 9 of “Welcome to Faerieland”, a sequel to my Kitty Fan Fic "To never being parted" although it can be read as a standalone story.

AO3 Link to the full story here.

****

“Livvy? Livvy, is that you? I should have guessed I would be the first one to join you.”

The girl - the one he had met in the weapons room, the one from the drawing - shivered in his arms. Ash tightened his embrace, shielding her as best as he could from the chill and the wind as they soared through the night sky. He flapped his wings harder and winced. It felt as though a thousand needles were piercing through them, but he couldn’t slow his pace. He needed to get her to safety and tend to her wounds. She didn’t have much time, the demon poison was spreading through the long gash in her leg. Already, she was hallucinating.

“Livvy.” She sighed and smiled. Her eyes were half-open, but they were blank as stones. “I have so much to tell you.”

Ash could now see a familiar landscape stretching ahead of them, up to the white sea cliffs and the hollow hill in which the golden cage he called home stood. It was risky to bring her there. Save for the usual cleaning and kitchen staff sworn to secrecy, there had never been anyone but him, J, and very occasionally his mother in this house since they had moved in three years ago. But he needed the potion to draw out the poison in her system.

“I am… I am not Livvy,” he whispered back.

She blinked but her blue-green eyes remained unfocused, their pupils fully dilated. Her gaze set upon his wings.

“Are you an angel?”

Ash swallowed the lump in his throat.

“If I were, it would be the fallen kind,” he replied grimly.

Her eyelids were heavy now. She was mumbling something but it no longer made sense. Just as he thought she would pass out again, she jolted back to consciousness. She was suddenly staring into his eyes, a look of recognition flashing across her face.

“Clary?” She said, startling him, before she blacked out, her body once again limp in his arms.

****

When Dru came to, she registered dimly that she was no longer flying but half lying, half sitting on a mattress - much softer than what she was used to at the Academy or even at the Institutes - and propped up against plush cushions. There was a funny taste in her mouth and she idly remembered having been forced to swallow a liquid. She no longer felt cold, and she realized that a silk blanket had been pulled over her.

Was that what the afterlife was about? An everlasting sleep in a comfortable bed? What a letdown.

When she blinked her eyes open, she was greeted by a beautiful sight. Her faerie prince was staring at her with his grass-green eyes, a lock of his tousled fair hair falling across his outrageously handsome face. He brushed it away with an impatient gesture, tucking it behind one of his pointy ears, and she noticed that his refined velvety clothes had been replaced by a plain long-sleeved black shirt.

“You,” she breathed. She narrowed her eyes. “I knew it! I knew you were too hot to be real!”

“Er- What?” His lips parted. He looked utterly dumbfounded.

Dru’s hands shot up and she started pinching his sharp cheekbones.

“What- what are you doing?” He tried to articulate, but she made it somewhat difficult, as she was squeezing his face and kneading his cheeks.

She could not help it. She giggled.

“Look at you. You are so… perfect. This is ridiculous.”

One of his blond eyebrows raised.

“So that’s the part where we kiss and there are fireworks and romantic music playing in the background?” Dru pursued.

She grabbed him by the collar, drawing him closer and his breath hitched. When their lips were so close they were almost touching… he turned his head away in a swift motion. She was left staring at his jawline - again, she marvelled at its sharpness - and noticed a wide X-shaped scar on his neck that had been hidden by his collar when she had first dreamt of him.

“What is it? I am not your type?” She said jokingly. Maybe her fantasies involved a bit of resistance to make things more fun.

He slowly turned to face her again. There was no trace of humour in his expression. His gaze was intense and serious.

“Not my type? On the contrary. You are exactly my type. You defined it, actually.” The sharpness and bitterness of his tone startled her. She swallowed.

“Then... why won’t you kiss me?”

“Because I don’t kiss girls who are under the influence of alcohol, drugs or - in this instance - demon poison.”

He started standing, but she grabbed him by the arm and almost cried out at the sudden throb in her right leg. She blinked and noticed for the first time that she had a long gash across her limb. The bleeding had stopped but it still looked awful. Several Iratzes had been drawn on her skin, near the wound. She remembered the searing pain she had felt as the demon’s claw had ripped across her flesh… It all came back to her then. The battle. Ty. Kit. Jaime.

“We need to go back! My brother and friends are still out there on the battlefield!” She clapped a hand over her mouth. “Raziel, how long have I been out?”

The faerie lifted his hands hesitantly to rest them awkwardly on her shoulders. He stroked lightly in a reassuring gesture, as his green eyes bore into her.

“The battle is over. King Kieran’s knights and the Wild Hunt swooped in, right after you were injured, and saved the day.”

She exhaled a sigh of relief as she fell back on the soft cushions. She felt dizzy.

“They are all alright.” A dark veil seemed to have covered her eyes. “I can’t-” I can’t see.

“Shhh. Stop talking. Spare your strength. Get some rest.”

It was suddenly all dark. An unbidden image came to her... black wings smeared with blood flapping furiously against the cold wind...

“You carried me… Your wings… you are hurt,” she said, before she fell back into unconsciousness.

****

Dru woke to a soft breeze tickling her skin. She immediately sat up, wincing at the pain in her right leg, and took in her surroundings.

She was in a vast high-ceilinged bedroom, illuminated by a soft light that spoke of dawn. The windows were equally huge, framed by velvet curtains.

Bookshelves were covering almost every inch of wall, and though they were entirely filled with books, there did not seem to be enough space for all of them.

More books were stacked in piles, others scattered haphazardly across the floor.

A latest generation laptop was resting on a large mahogany desk in the corner, as well as several tablets - what was the point of having so many? Dru wondered - video game consoles and controllers, a huge sound speaker in the shape of a silver skull and… more books.

The room harbored several collections of various items, weapons mainly, but also figures from comic books and fantasy novels. A real size shiny C-3PO seemed to serve as a valet stand, a black leather jacket comically wrapped around its shoulders.

The contrast was odd, as if an enthusiastic teenager had decided to set up his headquarters in the ballroom of a palace.

A pillow and a crumpled white blanket had been spread on the floor, next to the bed. They were tainted with smears of blood that could be traced on the thick carpet toward a half-open wooden door. Artificial light was pouring through the gap.

With strenuous efforts, Dru whirled her legs out of the bed. She blushed as she realized she was no longer wearing her dress - which had been torn and covered in ichor anyway - but in a plain black shirt. On her, it was long enough that it covered her thighs. She tried not to think too much about who must have dressed her and picked a long staff made of oak wood, probably a rokushakubō, that was resting against the wall. She used the weapon as a walking stick as she limped across the bedroom, looking out the windows as she passed them. All she could see in the dim light were large stretches of green grass. She was still in Faerie, she knew that much at least.

When she reached the half-open door, she peered around and... gasped.

It was a bathroom, much bigger than her own bedroom at the Academy, and to say it was luxurious would be an understatement. Everything was built in the most precious and refined material, even the taps looked like they were shaped from gold. The blond fey was seated at the edge of a huge circular bathtub with his back to her, only wearing boxer shorts. His pale skin was covered in Marks, some freshly inked, others faded, as well as battle scars. He was clutching large cotton pads and seemed to be struggling to clean the wounds on his black wings. Vials filled with different colours of liquid were scattered all over the marble floor as well as boxes of dried herbs. He whipped his head at the sound she made.

“I- I am sorry,” she said, feeling her cheeks flush at his nakedness.

“Sorry for what?” He replied, in his euphonious voice.

“I didn’t know you were…” She replied, waving her hand at him.

“Didn’t know I was what?” He looked puzzled.

“Naked!” She rolled her eyes.

He just stared at her for a few seconds before he let out a short back of laughter.

“I don’t mind,” he finally said and went back to tending his wounds.

Dru swallowed.

“Let me help you with that,” she said, as she slowly crossed the distance, and sat behind him. She picked a few bandages and started working on the cuts on his wings that were the least accessible to him.

They remained in companionable silence for a moment.

“You are a Shadowhunter,” she eventually said, breaking the stillness. “Why didn’t you tell me so when we met earlier?”

He shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”

“That’s not it. Your skin was covered in clothes. You are hiding it.”

He tensed. “So were you. I assume you had your reasons. I have mine.”

Okay… He had obviously decided to close the subject. And she didn’t want to pry. She redirected the conversation.

“About earlier… What I said…” She swallowed and blushed at the memory of her throwing herself at him. Ugh. How pathetic she had been.

“Did you speak earlier? I didn’t hear a thing,” he replied, casting a knowing glance at her over his shoulder, his lips suppressing a smile.

She exhaled.

“Thanks,” she said. “You know what, I do think you are beautiful. But so are Michelangelo’s sculptures. And you won’t catch me snogging them.”

He was still sitting with his back to her and she couldn’t see the expression on his face but he seemed to be smiling as he replied. “Message received.”

“So… is this where you live?”

“It is.”

“Alone?”

“No. It’s just me and my uncle J, though.”

She fell silent for a moment and he heard her unspoken question.

“I hardly see my mother. And my sorry excuse for a dad is dead. Good riddance.”

She flinched at that. She had noticed there was a darkness about him and wondered if it was linked to all the scars on his body or his evident hatred for his late father. Or both.

“I guess I never thanked you. For saving my life earlier.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I am Drusilla, by the way. Drusilla Blackthorn. People call me Dru, though.”

He nodded, as if it confirmed something he already knew.

“I am Ash.”

“Ash…?”

“Just Ash.”

“Don’t you have a last name?”

He shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” She playfully quoted Shakespeare.

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Your turn.” He suddenly stood and turned to face her, folding his wings. Dru realized that it brought her gaze right at the level of his… She swiftly turned her face away, blushing. When she glanced back at him, shyly, he was sitting seiza-style on the floor, in front of her. He gently lifted her right leg to rest it on his lap, a small smile playing across his face. She could not catch the look in his eyes, under his silvery eyelashes, as they were focused on inspecting her injury, but she was pretty sure he knew exactly what was going on in her head. He slowly brushed his long and deft fingers across her skin while his other hand cupped her calf, and she couldn't stop her leg from shaking. Holy crap. He had barely touched her and she was already a flushing mess, her breath now coming in short gasps. She was very much aware that her toes were nudging at the waistband of his boxer shorts and that if she brought her foot a few inches lower…

They both startled at the sound of a loud banging on the bedroom door.

“AAaaash,” uttered a man in a slurred speech through the wooden material. “You self-righteous b-bastard. Open the f-fucking door.”

The voice sounded familiar but Dru couldn’t pinpoint exactly where she had heard it before. It didn’t help that it belonged to a man who was obviously inebriated.

Ash cursed. He brought Dru’s leg down and put a finger over his lips.

“You. Are. Not. Here.” He mouthed to her, his green eyes suddenly deadly serious, all of the earlier playfulness gone from one moment to the next, and she almost cringed. He stood and swiftly exited the bathroom, closing the door behind him. She grabbed the staff and lifted herself up from the edge of the bathtub to get closer and hear the conversation.

“Asssh,” the voice repeated. “I know you are ho-home. You left a m-mess in the infirmary. Anything you wish to tell m-me? You got into a f-fight again?”

Dru heard the bedroom door open with a creaking noise.

“What about you, J? Went out for liquor again?” Ash’s voice replied sharply.

“Ash. I d-don’t tell you where to put your d-dick. You d-don’t get to tell me what goes into my m-mouth.”

“The fact that you just said that with a straight face is evidence that you had one too many, J.”

“F-Fuck you, Ash.”

“Hmm… I’ll take a rain check on that. Not that I don’t find you attractive, but you know I don’t screw drunk guys. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

When she heard the door close behind them, Dru came out of the bathroom, in search of her phone, on the off chance it had survived the battle. There it was, resting on the nightstand, plugged in for battery charge. That was… thoughtful.

She grabbed it, swiped the screen open and tried to call Ty, but there was no service. Crap.

She rummaged through Ash’s drawers to pick a pair of shorts that she pulled on clumsily, and gathered a few weapons. She headed for the door, opened it and… ran straight into a pale white torso. Ash clutched her arms to steady her, then brought his lips against her ear. “Going somewhere?”

Dru jutted her chin out. “I need to find my brother. He will be worried sick.”

He didn’t move his mouth from her ear as he softly whispered. “You only need to ask.”

She stepped back to stare into his green eyes. His expression was unreadable.

“Okay,” she replied hesitantly. “Can we… go now?”

“Whatever you wish. Can I show you something first?”

She smiled at him. “Hmmm sure. I have to tell you though, I have four brothers, including one who has absolutely no issues with nudity. Trust me, I already know what it looks like.”

He laughed softly, shaking his head, and went to confiscate C-3PO’s black leather jacket. He put it on her shoulders. The sleeves were so long she had to roll them three times so her hands could peek out of them.

As Ash shrugged on his black shirt and black jeans, Dru cast a quick glance at his body. He had broad shoulders and was definitely muscular, as all Shadowhunters were, but not in a bulky way. His long and pale limbs emphasized his tall, overall narrow figure. He was like a spear, shooting up and deadly.

He caught her watching him, and gave her a lopsided smile. In turn, he allowed himself to look her up and down, but it was quick, efficient and not in the lazy, lingering, creepy way guys usually eyed her.

“You look good in my clothes,” he said finally. He came to stand in front of her, and gently grazed her cheek with his knuckles.

“Your skin is so translucent that it feels like a splash of red ink leaked from a pen underneath when you blush.”

She was pretty sure the red on her cheeks must have spread even farther, the colour brighter, and she did something she had never done in front of a man before. She looked down.

“Grab my neck,” he said, and she complied.

In a swift motion, he swept her off her feet and carried her in his arms like a damsel in distress.

He moved to the open window and… jumped out.

It was different now that she was fully conscious and aware of her surroundings. She let the wind blow through her hair, allowed herself to be overwhelmed by the surreal feeling of being suspended in the air without the fear of crashing to the ground.

She whooped in excitement, crying out “I am the queen of the wooooorld!” and he laughed.

They landed on a narrow patch of grass on top of a cliff. A nightmare for anyone who had vertigo, but Dru didn’t mind great heights.

They both sat at the edge, enjoying the landscape. It was absolutely breathtaking, an unobstructed view of Faeries lands, patches of dark forest, small lakes and plains of green grass extending farther than the eye could see.

Dru understood why Ash loved this spot. It looked like you could see everything while not being seen. It was a spot no one could access, unless well, they had wings…

“Look,” he said, pointing towards a chain of rocky mountains. The sun came out lazyly, spreading its first rays to scout the sky before making its glorious appearance and altering all the colours of the picturesque landscape from one moment to another.

Her breath hitched and she grabbed his hand reflexively.

He whipped his head around to look at her and she pulled it back immediately. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Don’t be,” he said gently. He cocked his head, a questioning look on his face. “Do you have a boyfriend, Drusilla Blackthorn?”

She smiled at his use of her full name. “I don’t.”

“A girlfriend, perhaps?”

“Nope. No boyfriend, no girlfriend.” She exhaled. “There is a guy, though…”

She looked up at him and he was staring back, his expression unreadable.

“I have had this crush on him since… Well, since forever. He seems to like me too, but he won’t act on it. I think he’s afraid of my brothers.”

He lifted his eyebrow. “He’s a bloody coward, then.”

She punched his arm. “Don’t say that! You don’t know him.”

He shrugged. “The question is… does he know you?”

She looked at him then, and was struck by the intensity of his gaze. There was a hidden message there, as if what he had really been asking was “Does he know you like I do?” But that could not be it, right? They had just met. It would be quite presumptuous of him.

“That’s not all. There is another reason, I think, and that’s why I haven’t made a move myself. I think… he is still figuring things out about himself...”

“Clearly,” Ash muttered.

“...And of course, there’s the issue of... my age.”

She waited for a change in his expression, a question, but he remained silent, his gaze steady.

“Aren’t you going to ask me how old I am?”

He shrugged. “Does it matter? Age doesn’t really mean anything in Faerie. I’d love to know your birthday, though. So I’ll know when to throw you the most decadent party you’ve ever been to.”

She let out a free, careless laugh. It was as if a weight had been lifted, that she didn’t even know had been there.

“What about you? Do you have a girlfriend or a boyfriend?”

He crossed his arms against his chest. “I don’t date. I screw around, though. A lot.”

“Why don’t you date?”

He shrugged. “I guess I have major trust issues. Oddly, it’s the only way I know how to get close to people I will never see again anyway. And of course…” He smiled crookedly. “I like sex. Don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t know.” She cleared her throat, rubbing her thighs nervously. “So... I am ready to go when you are.”

“Sure, your carriage awaits. Where to?”

“If possible… the New York Institute?”

He tensed. “Is this where you live?”

“Oh no, I was just there to attend a birthday party. I study at the Academy, so that’s where you can usually find me these days. My real home is the Los Angeles Institute, where my family lives.”

Ash didn’t say anything. He was watching her with a thoughtful expression. She looked down, at the frightening drop into emptiness.

“Is this the moment in the movie when the guy turns out to be a psychopath and leaves the wounded girl on top of a cliff and she is left to choose between jumping and starving to death?”

“You have a lot of imagination,” he said, his expression still musing. He grasped her chin to lift it slightly toward his face. “I rather thought it would be the moment in the movie where they kiss and there are fireworks and romantic music playing in the background.”

“Heeey! I thought you hadn’t heard anything !” She swatted at him and he grabbed her wrist in a motion so swift it was almost a blur.

“Heard what?” He said, and she didn’t reply, she couldn’t reply because the next moment he was kissing her, his incredibly soft lips hesitant at first, leaving her plenty of occasions to withdraw. She didn’t.

The kiss grew deeper and it was as if the ground was a rug that had been swept from under her, she was in a free fall, tethered to reality only by his gentle fingers holding her chin while his other hand moved to cup the back of her neck. He smelled like the best Faerie had to offer, all at once, rocks warmed by the sun and fresh grass, luscious petals twirling in the wind, a storm turning a gentle stream into a torrent.

They both jerked away at the sound of an ear-splitting noise.

Before them, a giant eagle was flapping its wings steadily, observing them through narrowed eyes. Josephine, Dru vaguely remembered. And it was not alone. Behind it, an even larger creature, that made the first look one like a fly in comparison, was hovering.

“Drusilla Blackthorn?” The smaller bird screeched.

“In the flesh.”

“I am Josephine. And this is my father Rocky. These are the names Tiberius Blackthorn blessed us with. Our real names cannot be spoken by your mere human tongues. Your brother is looking for you and we are to bring you to him. You can ride on my father’s back.”

“Wait, are these… rocs?” Ash said in awe, his green eyes glittering. “These are thousands of years old legendary birds of prey thought to be extinct. The most dangerous predators among birds. And your brother actually named one Rocky? How cool is that guy?”

“Where is Ty now?” Dru asked.

“He is with my mother, looking for you,” the bird answered. “But we are to meet him at the polyamorous cottage.”

Ash turned to look at her, amusement mixed with curiosity plain on his face. “The polyamorous cottage?” He mouthed.

She elbowed him playfully.

“Okay, let’s go,” she said with more confidence than she felt.

“Wait-” Ash shot an arm in front of her. “I am not sure how I feel about you riding on an unearthly predator.”

“What do you suggest?”

He pondered for a moment before giving her an answer, his expression clearly torn. He finally sighed, seeming to have come to a decision.

“Well… You can ride me,” he said, gesturing at himself and giving her a wicked grin. “And that’s not a one-time offer.”

She rolled her eyes but could not help to feel relief.

“Are you sure you are up for it ?”

“Are you kidding me? A private invitation to the polyamorous cottage? And of course, I can’t wait to meet your brother Tiberius. It will be fun.”

She threw her hands up. “Wow. Don’t get your hopes up. My brother is very difficult to befriend. I love him, but “fun” is definitely not the word I would use to describe him.”

Ash turned to look wistfully at the two giant creatures waiting in front of them. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Well, he sounds pretty fun to me.”

****

Tagging @gabtapia and @bookeater34 ;)

[letstalkaboutsebbaby]

Related Activities - Chapter 4

The district has a new attorney and Marshall is going to learn the hard way that he should have acted sooner in pursuing his passion for Caroline.

Pairing: Andy Barber x OFC (Caroline Kline) / Walter Marshall x OFC (Caroline Kline)

Author: Deb @letstalkaboutsebbaby / @letswriteaboutsebbaby

Rating: Mature

Warnings: crime talk, smut (hi @klaine-92 - it's starting!)

Walter Marshal is a man that has little to no time to lose with useless things. His house lack decoration because he sees no need for them. A couple of frames with pictures of his daughter, some cushions that he didn’t know were uncomfortable when he bought them, and a painting in his bedroom. He has few friends - his brother and a couple of guys whom he grew up with - fewer reasons to trust new people, but he trusts Caroline. He likes her, he wants her more than he cares to admit to himself, not really confident in his relationship skills.

One of the things he needs the most is the only thing she can’t ever give him - silence. She’s always with something to talk about, a view over some case, a question about his past experiences, or a song to softly sing when she knows he’s not wanting to talk. Marshall feels like he can listen to her singing the whole discography of the Pretenders before he’ll get enough of her voice.

Waking up early after a hard day, he stays in bed contemplating his next steps to make sure she’ll understand he needs time cause he can’t start a relationship while worrying about the cases they have now. Obviously, they’ll always have to work and it’ll always have a lot of shit to deal with but at the moment it’s too time-consuming and he wants to start a relationship with the possibility to really give her time and attention. Looking at his phone, a text gives him hope that things will go as planned: Only pick me up if you bring hot chocolate with vanilla cream. It’s the closest thing to “I’ll forget you’ve been so dumb” he will get and since his apology hasn’t been so eloquent either, he’s fine with it.

After half an hour and bringing a big cup of her favorite drink, he picks her up at her apartment. From the driver’s window, he can see the pale rose curtain on her room reminding him of how contrastive their houses are; her full of cute decor items, different patterns on the walls, soft rugs, mirrors and candles everywhere. If it wasn’t Carol he would’ve said the person spent a lot of time decorating the place, but somehow it feels effortless for her. It’s like anything he finds difficult is incredibly natural for her.

As she climbs in the car, Marshal smiles at her and she smiles back, quickly reaching for her drink. He stops her hand midways and holds it between his. “Can you at least say good morning?”

“Good morning, big guy. You look better”

“I am. Look, Car...I’m not in the right mind to...to do anything other than find these fuckers. Let’s look forward to that week off, can we?” His big fingers caressing her palms and bringing butterflies to her stomach. As handsome and sweet as Andy is, her attraction to Marshall has been something growing since day one and her heart is more invested than she would like. The way he calls her ‘Car’ only adding to the entire sexiness of him.

“So let’s find these fuckers...Give my hands back, I need to drink and you need to drive.” she teases. “Any new clue?”

“No, some test results will be ready today tough, so I guess we’ll at least have something to go after. Yours?”

“Nothing either, I was just talking to Andy last night and he thinks the same modus operandi was being investigated in Massachusetts. He’ll bring the files today so I can give a look before interviewing the guy again.”

The mention of a night talk with Andy bothers Marshall and he can’t really pay attention to anything Carol says after it and she notices the change in his behavior but decides not to ask the reason.

Shortly after they get to the station, each working on their own cases, Andy gets there for the suspect interview, files ready for her to analyze.

“Hey, that’s for me?” Caroline points with a smile when she sees him.

“I believe it’ll cost you something” he replies, sitting by her desk.

“I’m ready to pay for it. What’s the price?” she plays along.

“Dinner tonight.”

“Done. Pass me the files, Sir.”

The friendly chat is something she really likes about him. A bit of flirting doesn’t hurt, right? Caroline reads the info and adds sticky notes to some of the papers while Andy talks to one of the cops. When the suspect is in the interrogation room, she calls Andy to go along with her.

“You go ahead, I’ll watch by the glass” he responds.

“You don’t want to get in?”

“Go on...I trust you, I’ll be there if you think a different approach it’s required.”

Once she’s there, with a bust in her confidence after Andy’s speech, the suspect is clearly trembling as she makes the questions but answers everything as determined by his lawyer - even though a peeved tone is always present. In the next room, Andy is watching the interrogation when Marshall enters to do the same, just as the suspect changes the subject to the previous encounter with the detectives.

“Were’s your bodyguard, Miss? Not going to intimidate me today?”

“I just need the answers, I don’t think you need to be intimidated in order to give me the truth. You’re smart enough to know there’s only one way not to be sentenced to death in a case like this and it starts with giving me information” she states.

“Are you fucking him?” the suspect challenges as his lawyer tries to make him behave. “You look like a good fuck”

The suspect enrages Marshall and he’s ready to go inside and put him in his place, but Andy stops him with a hand in his arm.

“You can’t really blame him” Andy calmly says.

“What the fuck do you mean?” Marshall verbalizes with no calm at all.

“The way you act...he knows you’re here and all he wants is for you to enter that room and give his lawyer a reason to ask for a transference.” He asserts the situation, stopping Marshall from ruining Caroline’s work.

“I better go” The detective mutter.

“Don’t worry, I got her” Andy claims, much to Marshall’s displeasure.

When the interrogation ends Caroline meets Andy to deliberate for some time. Eventually, he went back to his office, promising to pick her up at the end of the day, both concentrating on work before the time for a new date came around. They decide to have dinner at hers, dismissing the idea of going home to get ready for a formal event - buying some take-out from an Italian place she likes and finding comfort at her floor once again.

“This is delicious” he declares, the pleasure clear on his face.”Can we do this every night? I want to try out all of their dishes.”

“It’s so yummy, right? I can’t have it every night though, I would end up in the worst shape.” Caroline says kiddin’, trying to imagine if he really wants to spend more time with her, and for what reasons.

“I find it very hard to believe you could get into a bad shape, babe, you’re gorgeous.”

A bit abashed by his comment, she smiles shyly and drinks a gulp of wine. “Well, in this case…we can do this sometimes before you get tired.”

“If I get tired we can change to japanese food, or mexican…”

“I was talking about the company”

“No sense. I might get tired of air before this happens.” He smiles and gets closer to her, an arm inviting her to lean on him. “You’re like...you know the feeling when you’re little and you know a Christmas present is waiting for you downstairs?” her head resting on his shoulder turns up to look at him.

“Yeah” she whispers back, looking deeply into his baby blue eyes. “I’m not sure the wrappings would be more interesting than the actual prize…” she tries to jest, but he holds her face, his thumb pressing over her lips. The way he looks at her gives no space for misinterpretations and the butterflies in her belly are very hard to ignore.

“If you agree to a hundred dinners more I can try to find out…” Andy’s low timbre functioning as a poison that keeps her weak - no reason to leave his arms, no desire to be anywhere else but in his presence.

“A hundred?” she softly asks.

“Just to start…” his lips softly touching hers before he kisses her. “You deserve better, you know?” She wasn’t sure what he means...deserve better than what? But his lips are on hers again before she can think further about it, both of them getting lost in sweet and deep kisses. Caroline wasn’t aware of the time, only able to feel Andy and the desire he evokes; not even the fact that they’re now lying on the couch seems to register in her mind, just his scent and the weight of his body over hers. Resting his forehead on hers, Andy whispers in the most enticing way “I’ll be what you need, sweetie. Everything you need.” while his hands expertly unbutton her jeans.

That was a completely different end to her night… she’s spent months dreaming about finishing her day in this same position with Marshall but it didn’t feel wrong to be with Andy - he’s attentive and attractive, very easy on the eyes - anyone would love to have him and she’s not about to lose this guy waiting for someone that never gave her anything more than a promise of a week off together. “We should take this to the bedroom”.

“Shhh...just relax.” He before taking her pants off and lying between her legs, positioning them around his waist; he slowly slides an arm to hold her neck as she stares at his eyes, entranced by how hot he looks at this moment. “Choose me, babe. Just tell me you want me.”

She can feel how hard he is through his pants and nods unconsciously “I want you, Andy.”

He tries hard not to lose control, wanting to watch her surrender, to see her gradually becoming his. “I want you too...so much” he starts moving his hips, rubbing his covered hard-on over her panties, a hand moving to grip her butt, helping her to grind against him “You look so beautiful...take what you need to feel good, babe”.

The friction on her clit driving her wild, making her squirm and cling to him. “Andy, please.”

“You have no idea how much I want to fuck you right now...to take these clothes off and slide into you…” as he declares all he wants to do to her, she keeps grinding and kissing his jaw as if he’s going to disappear. “So fucking cute” Andy sits and brings her body with him, finding the view of her straddling his thighs the most erotic sight ever. He touches her tits through the shirt and holds her as she rides him. Caroline wants him to lose control, but all she accomplishes is to get closer to cumming, so she hugs him and lets herself go listening to his sweet praise of her.

With her body still trembling she opens her eyes to look at his proud face. “Stay.”

“I can’t. I need you to have a good night of sleep and think about what you want...then tomorrow you’ll text me let me know if you want another date.”

“A third date.”

“Yeah”

“I already know the answer”

“I’ll believe you when you’re not looking like you want to fuck so much” he jokes, standing up and putting her on the couch, adjusting his pants as much as possible with his cock still hard.

She stands up and slides her arms around his neck, bringing Andy close to kiss him once more. “I’ll text you tomorrow.”

Grabbing her hand, he takes his jacket from the other couch and walks to the door, stopping with a hand in the handle “I’ll be waiting. Have a good night, Car.” he gives her a light peck before leaving her house. She shivers when she hears him calling her ‘Car’ the exact same way Marshall does. She’s so fucked.

[cblgblog]

Imagine that AU where Peter's accused of some very terrible crime(s), and while he has a rock solid alibi - he's on video and EVERYTHING! - he can't use it. Because it's Spiderman on video, with an alibi, and proof of where he was. Peter Parker just has a blank space of time with nothing to show for it, and nothing he can say. He's obviously hiding something, he's jittery, he's scared, and May trying to defend him when she doesn't even know what his alibi is (or who he really is in the mask)

So I have…basically an amalgamation of 3 scenes going in my head for this.

1.       The ‘Did you do it’ scene from Defending Jacob where Andy/Captain America straight up asks his kid if he murdered the boy people think he murdered.

2.       The ‘I can’t sleep!’ scene from The Amazing Spider-man (2012) which is a flawed but massively underrated film, fight me. Where Sally Field! May asks Peter where he goes at night, what’s happening to him, why he’s hurt, and, “Secrets have a cost, they’re not for free. Not now, not ever.”

3.       Marisa Tomei! May in Spider-man: Homecoming. The, “You have to tell me what’s going on!” scene.

All of these are Good Scenes btw, and short, and I recommend watching them if you haven’t but anyway. No Irondad here, because eww, no, never, but some references to actual Spider-man canon, whether Feige likes it or not.

Fuck Irondad, let Peter have his own movie, justice for May Parker.

****

May and Peter having to leave their apartment building. Neighbors they’ve known for years not talking to them, not looking them in the eye. Hell, maybe the ‘Murderer burn in hell’ bit from Defending Jacob shows up in there too, where there’s graffiti on their apartment door, you need a key to get into the building, but of course no one saw anything. Them having to stay with Ned’s family.

Peter’s getting all kinds of shit suddenly for being the weird kid who snuck off all the time, and the only ones who don’t treat him like a leper are Ned and MJ. And MJ digs murderers anyway, so while he’s glad of the support, it doesn’t exactly help his rep.

May who will defend him to anyone and everyone. No, no it isn’t weird that his computer stuff was completely wiped when the cops showed with their warrants. He’s a teenage boy, embarrassed of his search history, that’s all.  May doesn’t know that he and Ned had to scorched earth everything because of the weird shit one Googles as a superhero, but she knows he wasn’t looking up murder techniques, okay?

No, it’s not weird that he had cuts and bruises and things when they dragged him in. Boys and their roughhousing, no he doesn’t play any sports, but who hasn’t woken up with bruises they can’t explain?

Her nephew is a good boy. Her son is a good boy, damn you. Sure there were some fights last year, but her husband had just been murdered and those kids had been bullying Peter for years but no, no he doesn’t have anger issues, he’s not a murderer!

May and Peter alone at Ned’s place some night. Ned and his fam have gone to get food, give some space and get it. Peter and May…they don’t really walk around the old stomping grounds anymore. Them alone in the house after weeks of this and May just, “Are you on drugs?”

Calm as hell question that startles Peter away from the book he wasn’t reading. “What? I—what?”

“Are you on drugs?”

“No?” More a question than he means it to be but, the hell?

“Are you selling them? Were you selling them?”

“What? What are you—”

“I know you’ve been worried about money since Ben died. Even though I told you not to. But I get it. So if you were—”

“May! May, I’m not…no. No drugs. No using or selling or anything. I don’t even watch Breaking Bad.”

Slight relaxation of May’s shoulders, twitch of a smile that doesn’t go to her eyes. “Okay. Okay. Where were you?”

“May, I, I told you I can’t—”

“No. No more “you can’t,” Peter. Because this? Not going away. I thought these assholes would come to their senses, find the real person—”

“May—”

“But they’re not. They’re not, and they’re not going to. All they see is you, Peter, so you…”

And holy shit, May’s crying. Or so close to it that there’s no difference. Jesus, May is crying, and she’s already cried so much since Ben, but always when she thought Peter wasn’t aware. Now they’re here, in front of each other, and she’s just, just crying.

“All they see is you,” May says, clearing her throat. “And that’s all they’re going to see until we give them a reason to look somewhere else, so you have to tell me. You have to tell me, not them. Me.”

“May…”

“Peter, it’s just us, just me and you, okay? So you tell me, and we’ll figure it out. But you…you have to tell me. You have to tell me, because it’s just us. We’re all we have right now, baby. You’re…you’re all I have. And I can’t lose you, understand? Not you too.”

“Aunt May,” he rarely calls her that anymore, rarely adds the title, not since he turned double-digits. But Aunt May looks so small now, and she’s making him feel small. Smaller than he’s felt since Uncle Ben died. Because of him. And now Aunt May’s suffering again. Because of him. “Aunt May, you won’t lose me, okay? I prom—”

“Peter!”

She’s still in tears, but she says it sharply enough that he very nearly jumps to the ceiling. Literally.

“Peter,” she says, much softer, but still laced with steel. “Peter, I know you snuck out of our house every night. I know that half the time you said you were with Ned, you weren’t. I know you weren’t doing your robotics stuff because you quit that three months ago. I know you don’t stay late studying at the library. Who the hell goes to libraries to study anymore, Peter?”

Peter’s got no answer to that, hangs his head.

“Everyone thinks I’m this clueless, gullible, uninvolved parent, too stupid to know what her kid is doing.”

“That’s not true, Aunt May.”

“I know it’s not. Or I thought I knew.”

That one hurts, twists Peter’s guts even as May reaches for him, takes his face in her hands.

“I knew what you were doing. Knew enough, I thought. Ben gone, losing the house, me barely keeping us above water.”

“Aunt May, you—”

“I thought you had things to figure out. I thought—fuck, I don’t know what I thought. But I knew I couldn’t blame you for not wanting to be around here, around me.”

That’s too far. That’s too much, and Peter pulls her into a hug because he has to. “You’re so wrong. That’s—no, Aunt May. I love you so much. I love you so, so much.”

“I love you too.”

“I’ve never wanted to be away from you. I never will.”

May pulls back then, cups his face in both of hers. “Then you have to tell me, Peter. You have to tell me, baby, because they want to take you away. And I am never, never going to let that happen, but you have to help me, baby. I can’t…” What’s left of her composure crumples. “I can’t do this on my own. Any of it. Don’t you dare make me.”

Peter tries to say something, he doesn’t know what, but all that comes out is a sob.

“Secrets have a cost, Peter, always. And whatever this one is, whatever you’re hiding? It’s going to cost us everything. Were you doing something else illegal, something different? Are you covering for someone? Is someone threatening you, hurting you?” She looks sick at the thought, but her voice is steel and her grip on Peter goes painful tight, even for him. “Because if they are, Peter, I swear to God. I swear to God, baby, I’ll make them stop. I’ll make them stop; I’ll kill them. You just have to—”

He can’t hear anymore of this. He can’t. Because he is doing something illegal, he is covering for someone, and someone is hurting him, but none of it in the way she thinks. “You haven’t asked me the big question.”

“What?”

“You keep asking me questions, but not…you haven’t asked if I did it.”

May looks stricken at that. A strange combination of stricken and baffled. “No.”

“Because you don’t…” He can barely say it. “Because you don’t want to know?”

Somehow the horror on her face intensifies and Peter wants to die, wishes for the thousandth time it was him, not Uncle Ben, but he doesn’t have to see that look on her face for long, doesn’t get to. May pulls him down, holds his face against her shoulder, grips onto him with the painful, desperate, grounding hold.

“Because I know, Peter. I know my boy. I know who you are, Peter. I know who you are. Oh baby, shhh.”

He can’t though. He can’t be quiet anymore, and he has to, and it’s killing him, and all he can do is sob into her and sink into her until they’re both sat in the middle of the Leeds’s living room floor, shaking and crying in the dark, behind closed curtains.

[ratonnhhaketon]

See The Fire In Your Eyes (Chapter 4)

Read on Ao3 | Previous | Next

Summary: Catherine Hays grew up in a picture-perfect, high society family in Virginia. She had her whole life planned out for her and was about to get married to a man she could not stand. When her brother uncovers a murder plot and has to pay with his own life, Catherine decides she can’t continue playing along. She takes control of her own destiny and goes south to a pretty little town called Blackwater.

Warnings: Swearing, Canon-typical violence, Kidnapping

Chapter 4 - Misadventures In Mail Delivery

It had been about two weeks or so since the incident with the stagecoach, and Catherine had definitely been keeping busy around camp. Mrs. Grimshaw quickly put her to work with the laundry, dishes, and assisting Pearson with the stew preparation. Adjusting to the life of an outlaw was a slow and strange process, especially after never having to do regular chores prior her entire life, but it was starting to feel normal. She even picked up new skills and hobbies that she enjoyed, like sewing, despite how many times she pricked herself while Tilly taught her the basics.

Catherine awoke to a particularly chilly morning and quickly got dressed in an effort to block out the cold air. A simple long-sleeved maroon shirt and a pair of black jeans, that she actually preferred over skirts after wearing them so often, accompanied her riding boots. She ran a brush through her tangled hair, taking time to pay special attention to a stubborn knot in the back, before putting it in a simple plait.

As she exited her small tent she raised her arms up and stretched, groaning a bit when her lower back popped a bit. Like every morning, she made a beeline to the fire and grabbed a cup of coffee.

Hosea called her over to the table he was currently sat at. “Would you mind taking a ride into town to pick up the mail?”

She gave a quick nod at him before downing the rest of her coffee. “Of course! What do we need?”

“Mrs. Grimshaw ordered some clothes and there are probably some letters for Dutch and myself.”

“Sounds good. I’ll get a move on now.” They shared a smile before Hosea returned his attention to the book in his lap and Catherine headed back to her tent. She grabbed the dark blue jacket that was slung on top of her clothing trunk before walking over to where Arthur, John, and Lenny were standing and enjoying their coffee. “Morning fellas,” she said with a warm smile as she pulled the jacket on.

The group replied with their own nods and small ‘morning’s of acknowledgement before she spoke up again. “Well I’m heading into town to grab the mail, any of you need me to pick up somethin’ from the store?”

Arthur spoke up first. “A pack of cigarettes would be nice.”

~~~~~

She looked between the other two as they just shook their heads. “Can do, Mr. Morgan. I should be back in an hour or so.”

The ride into town went smoothly as always. Catherine passed only a few people on the road, as the sun was still just over the horizon, and stopped at the post office first. She collected everything they needed, a stack of letters addressed to the ringleaders of the gang and a package for Miss Grimshaw. She securely strapped the package to the back of her horse before slipping the letters into the saddlebags and walking to the general store.

Catherine made a quick lap around the store, picking up Arthur’s request as well as a can of peaches for herself and some candies for Jack. As she stood at the counter to pay she felt someone staring at her and quickly looked around the store before taking note of the man paying a little too much attention to the box of biscuits in his hand. She passed the clerk a few bills before gathering her things and returning to her horse.

As she was putting the things into the saddlebags, that same looming presence of someone watching made itself known once again. Catherine quickly slipped the cigarettes and chocolate bar into the inner pocket of her jacket before she mounted and spurred her horse into a gallop to get out of town as fast as possible. When she was barely half a mile out of town the sound of steady hooves following her seemed to grow louder with each passing moment. She spared them a quick glance over her shoulder before turning off of the road and into the thick forest of Tall Trees.

Her mare protested every time she was spurred on to keep up her pace, but the stead never once slowed down. Catherine ducked and weaved through low hanging branches, keeping a hand held out in front of her face to avoid any collisions.

The sound of hooves only faded for a moment as she ducked into the forest before reappearing almost twice as loud. A small “shit!” escaped her lips as the sound of hooves and the edge of Tall Trees grew closer.

Catherine failed to realize that she was nearing a small cliff and, before she could slow down, her horse slid down the slope uncontrollably. Her mare began to freak out, frantically trying to regain its footing on the loose dirt and rocks, and bucked her off in the process. She fell to the ground with a hard thud, pain in her chest and the air fully gone from her lungs.

Between ragged breaths as she lay on the ground, trying to regain her breathing, she noticed the sounds of hooves had stopped and steady footsteps crunching leaves began to approach her. She tried to reach for her pistol but one of the men shot a bullet next to her head, obviously missing on purpose.

“The boss is gonna be very happy about this,” the other man chucked. The last thing she saw was her mare sprinting off in the direction of camp before the butt of a rifle knocked her out cold.

~~~~~

“Hey, Lenny!” Arthur called to the man on guard duty as he walked towards his horse. “Has Miss Hays gotten back yet?”

He adjusted the rifle in his hand as he turned to look back at the man behind him. “No, I haven’t seen her.”

“Damn, I could use that pack of cigarettes she promised.” No sooner than the words left his mouth did the steady gallop of hooves start to approach the camp. The two men looked towards the sound expecting to see the woman they were just discussing, but were met with her dark brown mare barreling down the path. Arthur, wasting no time at all, instinctively put his hands up to slow the horse and grab the reins. He calmed her down enough that she stopped moving, though she was still shaking her head and huffing from the unfamiliar contact.

The two men shared a glance before Lenny spoke up. “Well,” he exhaled. “This ain’t good.”

~~~~~

The world was a haze around Catherine as she started to come to her senses. The room she was in was mostly dark, with a small stream of light peeking in from the torn curtain. She blinked a few times to get her eyes adjusted to the space around her. It was a small room, with a mattress pushed against the opposite corner of the room and a table covered in playing cards and empty cigarette cartons next to her.

Her mouth was dry and tasted like metal. Her vision was still blurry from the darkness, but she could still tell her eyes were very swollen. Despite her whole body screaming and protesting against her, she tried to move. Her muscles ached against the rope tied around her hands and legs.

She stopped struggling when a male voice spoke up outside. “How much longer do we have to be in this shithole?”

Another man replied, “Another day or two, probably. Just waiting on Calvin to send word for us to send her back.”

She felt her stomach churn. Of course he was behind this.

The door to the cabin swung open and she could vaguely make out the shape of a man walking towards her. “Look who’s awake, boys!” As he walked closer she recognized the figure to be the man that shot at her earlier.

“I’d rather die than go back to that rat,” she spat, struggling against the ropes.

The man laughed and crouched down next to her. “As much as I would love to make that happen,” he said with a smile. “I’m afraid Mr. Foster specifically requested you be returned alive so he could decide exactly what to do with you.” He lifted up a hand to her cheek, stroking the soft skin with his thumb. God , she wanted to throw up. Or punch him in the face. “Pity though, that he gets to have all the fun with you. I bet you’d make a very-”

Before he could continue she moved her face to the right towards his hand and bit down hand, directly at the base of his thumb. He yanked his hand back and grabbed it, making sure that he wasn’t bleeding. Catherine looked at him with fire in her eyes and he returned the gaze with pure anger. “You bitch!!” he yelled, using his opposite hand to slap her across the face. Her head went back and hit off the hardwood of the wall behind her, a yelp of pain escaping her lips. The world started to spin around her and her vision started to get hazy. She vaguely heard the man spew some string of curse words at her before she blacked out.

~~~~~

The second time she woke was to gunfire outside of the small cabin. The men that captured her were not only yelling a lot between each other, but she had a feeling that they were losing the fight as well.

“Check inside, we’ll keep watch out here,” a distant voice said. It sounded hazy and muffled as it broke through the ringing of her ears.

The door to the house opened and she tightly shut her eyes from the heavy moonlight. After a moment she opened them to see a figure approaching her, to which she instinctively curled her bruised body further into a ball. Her figure shook violently from fear and the cold air surrounding her.

“Hey, s’okay. I ain’t gon’ hurt ya.” the figure spoke up in a soft tone. The voice was deep and gravelly but also gentle. One that felt familiar and safe.

She looked up with tears in her half-lidded eyes and said, “Arthur?” Her voice was weak and sounded almost like a wheeze.

“Shhh, it’s alright. We’re gon’ getcha outta here.” He carefully cut the ropes on her arms and hands. “Can ya walk?” When Catherine slowly shook her head Arthur bent down to slide his arms under her legs and behind her back. He hoisted her body up- to which she let out a loud cry of pain- and walked back out of the small cabin, careful to not hit her against the doorframe. She rested her head against his chest as they walked to try and stop the world from spinning around her.

For the first time in what was probably days she felt safe.

“Take her back to camp,” another voice spoke up. “We’ll stay back for a bit and make sure no one is left.” Arthur sat her on the front of his horse’s saddle and carefully got in behind her to assure she wouldn’t fall during the ride.

As they rode off back towards camp Catherine kept her head propped up against Arthur’s chest with her eyes closed, desperately trying to ignore the aching pain her body felt as the horse galloped. Her right hand clutched the front of his shirt, her legs dangling over the side of the horse, and a few stray tears leaked out of her eyes.

“Well be back soon, just stay with me.” She felt his chest rumble against her head as he spoke and groaned out in pain, to which he instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I know it hurts but we’ll be back soon.”

She started to feel lightheaded and groggy. Using the last of her strength, Catherine opened her puffy eyes and looked up at Arthur. “Wasn’t.. O’Driscolls,” she murmured, voice nearly giving out at the end.

The last thing she heard was Arthur’s confused “What?” before her field of view was swallowed into blackness and she slipped out of consciousness again.

~~~~~

Catherine didn’t remember much of what happened after that. She remembered a lot of yelling, people rushing around, and what she thinks was Arthur and Lenny talking. When she was finally fully conscious she woke up to a very dry mouth and almost every part of her body in pain. She looked at her surroundings and realized she was back at camp, in her tent, with Hosea reading a book beside her cot. Upon noticing her awake he smiled and shut the book, and reaching for a cup of water he had resting on the crate next to her.

“Good to see you awake, Catherine.” He helped her lean up and drink, reminding her to go slow and breathe so she didn’t choke. “You gave us all quite the scare.”

Before she could reply the flap to her tent was opened and Arthur’s familiar hat peaked in. “Glad to see you’re up.”

She felt the corner of her mouth turn up in a light smile at his voice. Hosea waved Arthur in and stood before saying, “I’ll let you catch her up on everything, but make sure she eats something and gets a lot of rest.” He gave Arthur a pat on the arm before leaving and closing the tent’s canvas.

“How..” she started, struggling to speak as her throat was still sore and voice was almost gone. “How long was I out?”

Arthur sat down in the chair next to her and leaned back. “A few days. You’ve been in and out a couple times, but never as aware as ya’ are now. Hell, Reverend was considerin’ reading you yer last rights last time you were conscious.” They shared a chuckle at the thought before Arthur continued. “Took a hell of a beating back there but at least Miss Grimshaw will go easy on you for a while.”

Arthur looked at her for a second and took in her features. “Do you have any idea who those men were? ‘Cause you said they ain’t O’Driscolls when we were coming back to camp.”

She let out a sigh. “Yeah, I do.” Her gaze shifted from him to the canvas covering the top of the tent. “Calvin sent them. The man I was supposed to marry.”

He looked down at his feet and nodded, before looking back up at her a moment later. “I’m guessing he’s not too happy you left your old life?”

Catherine’s eyes returned to the man next to her. “Not at all.” She swallowed the lump in her throat and looked down at her hands, her thumbs fidgeting together in her lap. “I’m sorry you have to deal with this. I didn’t want to get you all wrapped into more problems than you already have.”

Arthur leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Catherine,” he said with a sincere tone, “You’re a part of this gang now, which makes you family. And as a family one person’s problems become a concern for all of us. If this son of a bitch shows his face again we’ll take care of it.”

She smiled at the sincerity of his words, tears threatening her eyes. The two sat in silence for a moment, enjoying each other’s company before a thought popped into her head. “Oh!” she said suddenly. “Is my horse alright?”

Arthur chuckled at her concern. “She’s perfectly fine. An hour or two after you left she showed back up at camp without you, so me and Lenny figured you were in trouble. Real smart girl you got there, seeing as she was able to bring herself all the way back to camp on her own.”

Catherine smiled at the good news. “Thank god she’s alright.” Her eyes drifted to the trunk on the floor next to Arthur’s chair and she spotted her jacket laying on top of it. “Arthur, could you grab my jacket for me?” She gestured with her right hand to where it lay and he picked it up before gently laying it on the bed next to her. “Before I forget,” she said with a smirk as she reached into the pocket on the inner lining. “You might be wanting these.” She handed over the, now slightly squashed, pack of cigarettes to him.

He laughed as he accepted the gift, having nearly forgotten that he even asked for them. “Thank you very much, Miss Hays.”

“Consider it payment for rescuing me from my captors.”

[lover-of-skellies]

Door 2

You swallowed back your feelings of uncertainty, carefully approaching the door that had gained your attention. You knocked, then waited for a response, only to receive none. As bad as you felt for invading the riders' privacy like this, your curiosity propelled you forward anyway, and soon enough, you found your hand grasping the knob. Giving a gentle twist and nudging the door open just enough to peek inside, you called out, announcing your presence and asking for permission to enter. Once again though, there was none.

Your shoulders sank a bit in defeat and you furrowed your brows; you'd come all this way, with your curiosity and determination to get to know each of the riders driving you. Chewing on your bottom lip, you silently contemplated your options for a moment, deciding against simply walking away. You were going to enter anyway, and you were going to look around. As long as you weren't digging through the dresser or rifling through papers, you'd be forgiven... right?

[You selected: Door 2]

Now entering: War's room

~~~

Stepping further into the room and nudging the door shut behind yourself, you glanced around, squinting to see in the darkness. The curtains had been drawn, as if this room's occupant were attempting to avoid the light. Sighing, you flicked the light switch, blinking as light flooded the room. You'd needed a moment to let your eyes adjust before you continued on, almost absentmindedly wandering over to her bed.

It was perfectly made, without even a single wrinkle in the sheets. Taking a glance up at the hammock that was suspended from the ceiling nearby, you understood immediately. The bed was in such good shape because she'd rarely used it. On the bedside table closest to the hammock, there was a small picture frame, and you made a face, making your way around the bed to get a better look at it.

Very delicately picking up the picture frame and looking at the photo it contained, you gave a small, sad smile. The photo was an image of War during her younger years, when she was still going by "Mal". On both sides of her were Necro and Zerif, and in front of her, with his slender arms wound around her body, was Lucky. One of Necro's hands rested on her shoulder, and the usually blank, expressionless look he wore was gone, replaced with a small, almost proud smile. Zerif had an arm around her waist in some form of a half-hug, and he smiled brightly.

Slightly off to the side was Template, wearing a wide smile of his own and striking some sort of heroic pose, while Fresh stood beside him, his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets as he donned a lazy grin, "YOLO" in bright yellow and cyan letters across the lenses of his sunglasses.

A family photo. One in which everyone looked so happy together. Huh. So she was the more family oriented type, it seemed.

Your gaze wandered away from the frame in your hands, drifting to a couple pictures that were hanging on the wall. You gently placed the picture frame back where it belonged, before moving closer to the hanged photos, tilting your head. The first was a photo that'd been taken by a third person, and it contained an image of Mal, Lucky, and Fresh. The three had dozed off on the couch together, a bowl of popcorn sitting on a cushion beside Fresh. On his other side was Mal, her head laying on his shoulder as she slept, and on the other side of her was Lucky, tucked under her arm and cuddled into her side, clutching a stuffed animal.

You shifted your gaze to the second hanged photo; this one was of Mal sitting on a sofa beside Geno, a thick photo album on his lap. They appeared to be flipping through the pages and checking out the individual photos together. Geno had a single brow bone arched and wore a slight grin as he pointed out a specific picture, and in response, Mal was looking at it, a wide grin stretched across her face and her sockets slightly narrowed in amusement. Blue tinted tears pricked at the edge of her sockets as she looked at whatever Geno had pointed out, as if she was laughing so hard she was in tears.

You leaned closer, trying to see the image they were laughing at, but it was to no avail.

Stepping away from the wall, you wandered over to a wooden shelf unit. One shelf was occupied by a basket full of yarn and a sewing kit, as well as an assortment of various needles, and the second shelf contained several books; they seemed to range from word games to crocheting guides, to cookbooks and guides on how to do embroidery. The third shelf was lined with dolls in various sizes, all of which she'd crocheted.

Upon looking closer at the dolls, you raised an eyebrow, taking in the way they resembled the members of her family - obviously, there were Necro, Zerif, and Lucky, but she'd also made more that resembled Template, Ink, and Fresh. Another doll resembled a female skeleton with completely white sockets, and if you had to guess, you'd say it was her friend, Betta.

Glancing over the rest of the shelf and seeing more dolls, you immediately recognized Geno, Death, Dream, Cross, and Lust, as well as one that resembled War herself. There was also a cartoony looking heart she'd been working on, that looked to be covered in stitches and cracks. It looked unfinished, so you opted not to touch it.

There was another box with more dolls inside that sat on the floor beside the shelf, the word "trash" scribbled on the side of it in sharpie. Of all things thrown into the box, a patch of dark blue fabric caught your eye, so you squatted, carefully moving the dolls and tugging at the fabric until a jacket was revealed; comprised of black fabric that faded into blue, with a black hood and eye catching yellow drawstrings. Some stitches were dotted across the item, done with vibrant red thread, and you frowned. By how old the jacket appeared, she'd been holding onto it for a while now.

Tucking the jacket back into the box and moving the dolls back over top of it, you let out a soft exhale. The next thing to catch your attention was her desk, and you stood, crossing the room.

A brown hoodie was draped over the back of her desk chair with what looked to be newly made stitches on one of the shoulders. You made a face; brown wasn't War's color. There's no way that could be hers. Shrugging off the oddness of the hoodie and its presence, you turned your attention to the desk. Several envelopes were scattered across it, already clearly having been opened, and there was a partially eaten chocolate bar sitting on top of it's crinkled wrapper. You were tempted to break off a small piece, but quickly thought better of it.

A book laid open, a pen sitting on the desk beside it, and out of curiosity, you moved closer and peered down at it. From what you could make out, you could read part of what seemed to be a journal entry; "- rats got in my room and made themselves at home in my dresser. I didn't realize they were there until I was looking for a shirt to wear. They just looked up at me, and they were actually really cute. I might've fed and held them a little, and I was really tempted to keep the little baby one, but shhh. Don't tell Pest."

You shook your head and couldn't help but smile faintly in amusement; so Pest's rats were growing on her, it seemed. You began to cross the room again, and on your way back toward the door, you glanced down into her hammock and paused. Peeking out from under some patchwork quilt she was using as a blanket, was another crocheted doll. It was larger than the others you'd seen, and upon seeing the brown hoodie it was wearing, paired with it's grin and green yarn that was meant to be some sort of fluid dripping down it's chin, you knew who it was supposed to be.

Your expression softened; War was such a dork. She obviously liked the guy a lot, dare you say she even loved him, and yet... she couldn't bring herself to admit it. You stole a quick glance at the alarm clock that sat on her bedside table and read the time, feeling your pulse suddenly spike. She'd be back soon, so that meant you needed to leave now. Frowning at the realization, you shrugged your shoulders, quietly beginning to walk toward the door again. Flicking the lights off, you slipped out of the room, carefully closing the door behind yourself.

Yes, going into her room while she was gone wasn't a good thing to do. You understood that and tried to push back the guilt that began to creep out from hiding. Going into her room was bad. Snooping through her things was bad. Hell, you'd read a page of her journal, and that was also bad.

You felt... enlightened, also, in a sense. You felt like you knew more about her somehow, and now, you were left with having to choose between admitting to her that you'd gone into her room, and staying quiet, never saying a word about what you'd done.

Standing in the hallway for a moment, you fought with yourself. All the guilt and confusion began to make your head ache and you sighed; for now, you'd go home and sleep off your rapidly building headache. When you were in a better state of mind, then you'd try to make your choice.

[my-fanfic-library]

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [17]

Masterlist

~^*^~

Your eyes were glued so where he had just stood before you. A vile mixture of emotions filled you up and you suddenly felt excruciatingly nauseous.

“Jack, I think we should go.”

“We haven’t been here long, are you feeling ok?”

“...I,” you continued to look at that spot, “I think my prawns were bad. I’m gonna puke.”

Your legs suddenly became weak. It was definitely just bad seafood. He hadn’t truly been there. He couldn’t survive in the sunlight. But... what if he had found you...? The last time you saw him, things had been on a sour note.

Oh god.

The blood left your face and a cold sweat overcame you. Anxiety had never hit you this hard before. You knew that if you took one step, you’d fall.

“Okay, you’re freaking me out. Can you walk?”

A bout of tinnitus began and you couldn’t hear him anymore. You felt dizzy. The intense shock and fear had rendered your body useless. You shook your head, but you couldn’t hear his reply.

Jack didn’t hesistate to sweep you up into his arms bridal style and you buried your head into the crook of his neck. You closed your eyes and tried to focus on breathing. Slowly, not wanting to make a movement too harsh to cause you to vomit, Jack carried you from the one side of Whitby, all the way to the other, near the crossing on the train tracks and placed you into his car. Your head rolled back and you groaned.

You felt awful.

With all of the unavoidable potholes and bumps on the road, the drive back to Robin Hood’s Bay felt like forever. By the time Jack was helping you out of the car, your head was spinning like crazy. Once again, Jack pulled you up into his arms and made no detour in taking you to bed. As soon as you were in, you blacked out.

A second fever dream came to you that day.

A wasteland of grey. It stretched out for what seemed like forever. The sky was grey as well. You turned around, coming to face a box. It stood still for a moment before beginning to violently shake. It rocked from side to side, and you expected it to topple over. Taking a cautious step backwards, you watched as the lid burst off. A burnt, mangled, steaming arm came out and pulled up a similarly singed body. Flesh had melted off, exposing bone, and part of her lip had gone. Her hair was thin, brittle strands and most of its volume burnt to nothing. Her blood had boiled to black and oozed from every oraface that had been created by the semi-burning of her being. You screamed but no sound came out.

“Bloofer lady...” her voice hissed.

As if it hurt to walk, she limped on both legs, nearing you with a crazed look in her eye. She continued to repeat those two words as she continued her way towards you. Every step she took, the more you saw just how badly burnt she was. Her skin had bubbled and festered with the heat, all kinds of bodily fluids oozing from burst blisteres. It had charred in most places where it hadn’t simply melted off. Smoke came from her body.

You trembled as you turned and standing some metres away was the figure. It was the burnt corpse of Lucy Westenra or the mysterious figure that had protected you from the flames last time.

Breaking into a sprint, you felt like you made no progress in trying to meet the man. However, Lucy seemed to be gaining on you. You began to cry.

When the first tear dropped down, the entire wasteland bloomed into green. The sky became a vibrant aquamarine and the sun burst free. The figure was before you in a second and it was him. It was his lovely smile, his adoring eyes, everything was still the same. He took you into his embrace and held you close, commanding the disgusting being that was once Lucy Westenra to leave.

“[First],” he whispered into your ear and your heart did a summersault, “come back to me.”

You jolted up in a cold sweat.

“JACK!” You cried at the top of your lungs.

There was a fanatic thud as he jumped from the sofa and made his way up the stairs to you. When he opened your door, you were silently crying.

“Hey, shhh, it’s okay,” he hurried to you, clambering onto the bed and pulling you into him, “it was a dream.”

“He was there,” you whispered, “and so was Lucy... but she didn’t look like Lucy...”

Jack knew what horror you had encountered in your sleep. He bit his lip and squeezed you tighter.

“It wasn’t real. It was a dream.” He reassured you, “here, I’ll go out and grab you some sleep relaxers, if you had bad seafood you’re probably gonna have some bad dreams.”

“That would be nice.” You smiled only slightly.

“Okay, why don’t you take a bath and calm down while I’m gone?”

You only nodded in reply.

~^*^~

The bathroom was steaming up. You heard the front door slam shut and then lock. Jack was gone. You knew he’d be a little while considering how far out you lived. Tugging up your shirt, you sighed. Your body felt groggy and kind of disgusting with such a thick layer of sweat. When you were finally ready to step into the growing tub of water, you turned just to grab the book you’d brought in with you to occupy your mind and screamed so loudly you thought that you had broken your voice box.

The terror, first of all, of being accompanied in the bathroom whilst being naked mostly caused the scream. It was also the stupid grin he wore on his face and the relief that he had somehow... stayed.

“Finally, I was beginning to wonder when he’d leave. It’s been a while, [First]. You’re looking more delicious than ever.”

Your hands flew up to your chest and you pulled the shower curtain in front of you to conceal yourself.

“What the hell are you doing in here?!” You shrieked.

“Nine months, an almost death - though I suppose you thought me truly dead and mourned me - and all I get is a rather rudely posed question as to why I’ve come to see you? Didn’t you miss me at all?”

“You fucking asshole!”

“Darling, are you in shock?

“Shock?! You’re meant to be dead! You drank Zoe’s blood! That was poison to you! You- you-!”

“I trained Renfield well. And luckily for me, you trusted him with my body. The first thing I did when I was freed from the Foundation was have another box of my soil brought to me. Luckily for you, it was enough to revive me.”

“How long?” You inquired, squeezing tight on to the shower curtain. You felt too exposed.

“Just over a month. I’ve been looking for you.” He stated plainly.

“Did you know Renfield killed somebody?”

“Yes. Isn’t he a wonderful specimen? I thought that girl was the best bride I had. Turns out it was the lawyer all along.” He mused, obviously surprised at his findings.

It went silent for a moment.

“Ok, not to sound rude but could you, like, get out?”

“Why?” You wanted to stride over there and hit him.

“Because I’m naked?” You rolled your eyes.

“Trust me, I have no issues with that.”

“Well I do!”

And then it hit you. It had taken a moment of true conversation with him to settle in. But Dracula truly was here. He’d come back to you. He had survived drinking Zoe’s blood and had searched for you until he had found you. You wanted to cry. It would never be outed to Jack, but you had genuinely missed Dracula.

He was looking at you, waiting for you to make your move. You didn’t intend on standing there naked all day.

“Can you pass me my clothes?”

“They’re right there.” He pointed out. They were just out of arms reach.

“Yes, but I can’t quite reach them.”

“Sure you can.”

“Dracula.” You warned.

“[First].”

You huffed. He was standing very comfortably on the other side of the room. He wouldn’t help you. Gripping hard onto the shower curtain, you began to stretch forward. In your mush of emotions, it slipped your mind that shower curtains could actually move and when the hoops on the rail slipped forwards with your weight as you leaned down, you lost your footing in shock.

And down you went, backwards into the steamy water. Dracula could not hold back his hearty laugh and once you had regained your senses, you sent the dirtiest glare his way. You pulled yourself up and his laugh stopped. The smile melted off of his face and something glazed over his eyes. He inhaled, even though he had no need to. It was a reaction. Like when the doctor hits your knee and your leg jolts. The way the beads of water cascaded down your curves, every minuscule feature of your body from every line, to every freckle, he memorised it. The slope of your waist, the length of your legs, the shape of your collarbones, the birthmarks. And of course, the way the water rolled effortlessly over your breasts.

Holy shit.

He lost his breath and that wasn’t even physically possible.

He really did love you.

Immediately, you covered yourself once more and the scowl that settled in was deep and full of fury.

“If you don’t get out of this bathroom in three seconds, I’m going to have to kick your ass.”

“[First], sweetheart, I’m a vampire who’s been resurrected. I’d love to see you try.”

“I took Taekwon-Do for six years, I will beat your ass down.” You narrowed your eyes, trying you make your bluff more convincing. Of course you hadn’t really taken any martial arts. You just wanted him out.

“I have a better idea,” he began, “why don’t I just join you? That way we’ll both be exposed and there’s no need to be ashamed.”

Cue a shampoo bottle being thrown at his head. It was then that he decided to get out.

He stood in your bedroom having opened the window and looked up at the sun. He was so relieved to have found you. He felt like he had been looking for so long. After helping Zoe to a comforting death, he nursed himself back to health and the first thing he had thought of when he regained consciousness was you. Sweet you who had captured his heart. He looked up at the burning sun, fighting back tears of happiness.

‘Thank you,’ he whispered, though he didn’t really know who to. He didn’t believe in a God, and even if he did, he would be disowned by the omnipotent spirit. Maybe he was just thanking the force that had lead him to you time and time again.

You didn’t bathe, instead you dried off immediately and joined him back in your bedroom. Your hair was soaked at the ends and Dracula thought that it suited you well.

During the time that he had been gone, reviving himself, you had changed. You’d changed your haircut a little, and you seemed to have filled out just a little. Not enough to be too noticeable to most, but to someone who had spent so long drinking in the sight of you every time he saw you, Dracula noticed. He liked it on you.

You sat down on the bed, eyeing him suspiciously. He simply smirked over at you.

“It’s nice to see you again.” He confessed. You didn’t reply, but decided to start almost interrogating him.

“Since when could you live in the sunlight?” You looked between him and the open curtains.

“Apparently the whole time. Van Helsing was the one who figured it out.” So, he wasn’t going to call her by name anymore?

“I see... how?”

“Vampire lore, you learn to believe it after so long.”

“Like mirrors?”

“No,” he breathed a laugh, “mirrors are a little more complicated.”

“What about all things holy?”

“Well...” he looked down, sucked in his lip and then looked back up at you, “I’ll tell you, since I don’t think anything I tell you would embarrass me after our encounter two minutes ago,” you threw a cushion at him, “it represents the one thing I couldn’t do - that I was too afraid to do. Well, I got the strength but it turns out some things are just more important than dying.”

“Interesting...”

“Anything else you’d like to ask me?” He teased.

You pondered for a moment. Maybe without all of the trauma, it would be different this time around. There was only one way to find out.

“Will you kiss me?”

He didn’t answer. It had been much too long since he last saw you. It had been much too long since he last held you. He craved your touch, the warmth that you gave to him just by being close.

“Don’t bite.” You whispered.

And his lips crashed onto yours. Just like before, you were able to relish in the feeling of his kiss for only a fleeting moment before you were consumed whole.

You were back at that place where the sun shone and it was fertile with greens and flowers of every colour. The feeling that spread through you was euphoric. Dracula stood before you and he beckoned you with his index finger. You complied immediately and found yourself in his arms.

“Mine.” He whispered.

He pulled you close and pressed kiss after kiss to your neck. Here in this hallucinatory haven, you didn’t feel threatened by his lips on your neck. No, you felt so at peace. You felt like you could do anything. Your fingers found their way to the base of his neck, tugging at the lowest stands of his hair. You hummed at the feeling of his lips.

You gasped, and you were back in the bedroom. Dracula’s hand was on your nape and he was looking at you with such intensity that you felt like you could melt. He pushed you backwards, until your back hit the headboard and he stood, moving to the door and locking it. When he returned to you, he lay at your side and pulled you into him.

“Enough of that, will you sleep in my arms?” He mumbled.

“Why did you lock the door?”

“Privacy.”

You snuggled into him. Never had you ever felt so at home. You smiled into his chest as his fingers began to play with strands of your hair.

Both of you would be content on staying like that forever.

~^taglist^~

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[helpinghanikan]

Public Enemy

X-men x Reader

Sum:  Powers don’t always obey their masters. Sometimes they have their own minds, making problems and causing destruction that you’re left to deal with. When that happens, you’re going to need some help finding a sanctuary. 

an: It’s not specified what Reader’s power is but I was thinking force-fields. I just think Force-field powers are neat. 

Charles Xavier:

Charles’s office, specifically the couch, has been your home for some time. Although it has only been a few days, two at most, but it felt like years. Hours spent sitting specifically in the couch’s corner where anyone entering wouldn’t notice you right away. Reading and taking your place as secretary more seriously makes time move in a slower fashion.

“Would you grab that book for me?” Charles asks, slapping you out of whatever deep thought you were currently drowning in.

At first these little tasks he asks you to do seem to come randomly. As if he just remembered you were there and felt bad. In reality he’s probably been in the outer layer of your mind for longer then you’ve been in the office.

Ignoring these facts, you focused on your work. It had spread quickly through the school that you were open and able to grade anyone’s homework or papers. Like the rest of your current life, these were taken care in Charles’s office. A place you’ve been bent over for hours until a phone call held your attention.

Charles is a pretty decent liar. Between his history with authority and with children, he speaks with enough confidence that it’s not worth thinking about. Obviously he still had his tells, even if the person he was lying wasn’t in front of him, he still looked down and go quiet for a second.

“No, I’m afraid we haven’t heard from her.” When he starts his lie, his tells are typically gone. “Yes, we will absolutely contact you if she comes here. And, in the event of that happening, I ask that consider our relationship before deciding anything.”

You don’t say anything when he hangs up. Instead deciding that to grab that book before he asks you to.

Erik Lehnsherr:

Erik was nice enough not to say or ask anything at first. Your few items in a bag, and all your savings spent on bribing a boat captain to take you here. All this was written on your face, practically screaming that you don’t want to talk about it.

“Is anyone going to be coming?” was the only thing he asked.

Instead of a verbal answer you shrugged with a shake of your head. Maybe…

Erik uses the excuse of an escort to keep a hand on your back, around your shoulders. Even gently on the back of your neck to ask his question in a whisper. Although Genosha was supposedly a sanctuary to all mutants, you were still an outsider. An outsider who had, not only, caused destruction but just might bring down the anger of the world onto them.

“You came here quickly, then.” Erik says, in leadership mode. Sitting across from you, elbows on his knees, looking almost into you.

“You guys aren’t exactly hiding,” It wasn’t a good joke but still you blow air out of your nose, trying to force a tiny laugh.

“Then why come here to hide?” He asks.

When the answer you give is another shrug (I don’t know…) he sighs. Standing and returning with a hot cup of beverage. A kettle had either been set before he stepped out to greet you, or one was constantly kept a little warm. Either way it was somewhere between tea and coffee, but definitely not both.

“What did you do?” he asks.

It took some time to tell the entire story. Skipping too many details about the fear and anger that all came at you at once. Erik has heard it all before in much worse amounts. Only admitting that you were wanted, so many were hurt or completely destroyed by a lapse of control.

He doesn’t interrupt or ask any other questions. He just listens and keeps an ear out for helicopters.

Raven/ Mystique:

At some point you were taken to the hospital with the other survivors. The journey was hard to remember; being placed on a bed and tossed around in the back of an ambulance. Pretending to be just as out of it as the others, really just avoiding eye contact with the paramedics.

It’s nice to think that you had a plan for when you got to the hospital, and you kinda did. With all the people coming in at once there was the chance you’d be left in the hallway or an open area to wait for a bed. In the event of that happening you could just roll over and walk out. Just walk with confidence and make it out the door.

That you were now restrained in a bed in your own room meant that plan was out the window. Laying back and letting the nurses check you out with shaking hands. Just enough to check you over but not enough to pretend to be doing their job.

“It’s fine,” The nurse says, practically slamming the room door shut behind him. It wasn’t a thick door; you could still hear through it. “Please don’t make me go near it again.” He says to someone in the hallway, probably a doctor or some other superior.

It isn’t until their talking has mostly stopped that you bother trying to escape. Your restraints were soft but also tight, something that you couldn’t slide out of easily. Rocking the bed, trying to tip it over, would just leave you dangling off the side. Still strapped in but with bruises and staring at the floor.

While thinking of another dashing escape plan the door opens again. A nurse steps and gently closes the door behind her. This one was a woman nurse, so far you’ve only been dealing with males. It was likely because of the threat you posed that it had only been men. Specifically, the biggest nurses and orderlies that were available.

Because of this you watch the woman as she walks over. She was a small woman with brown hair in a bob cut, the white uniform and a smile she held while pulling the curtain around. You were smart enough not to say anything until she did. Or until she shifts entirely from white uniform into blue skin, immediately pulling at your restraints.

“Hey, Hi. Babe, I’m sorry…” You have a million things to say at once.

All the words fighting to be the first to be said. All ignored by your girl, who just places a gentle hand over your mouth and whispers a shhh. Going back to the restraints and whispering:

“Don’t say anything,” She says, opening the first and reaching over to get the next. “Let’s just get out of here.”

You quickly pulled the faded green scrubs over your clothes. Raven placing a surgical hat on your head and mask over your face was the best she could do. Raven quickly becoming the bobbed hair nurse again. She nods at you, as if to say, “everything will be fine.”

Peter Maximoff:

So much energy coming out at once has to take it out form somewhere. What was a splitting headache a second ago became a massive weight. One that dragged you down from the standing position and towards the floor. Only to be caught by arms that were not there a second ago.

It wasn’t that Peter was “harboring a fugitive,” or was “obstructing justice” he was just helping out his girlfriend. Something that he has argued about with several people.

“I don’t believe this was done on purpose, Ser.” Professor Xavier says into the phone, staring at Peter as he did. “No, she still has yet to reach out to us. To any of us. The moment she does we will tell you.”

Peter makes a face and shrugs when the phone is hung up. “I don’t see why they need her. It’s was an accident, she said sorry, I don’t see what else there is.”

Professor Xavier doesn’t seem to bother asking where you are. Peter wouldn’t tell him, and he could easily find you with cerebro.

“Is she safe?” He asks, wanting whatever truth Peter was willing to give.

“I mean, I don’t know where she is, but she safe. I think, yeah, she’s safe.” He says. Smart enough to help you vanish but not enough to know better then to lie to a telepath.

Hank McCoy:

Like a little kid you’ve chosen the staircase banister to hide behind. Either hand holding onto a separate bar, looking out between them. Your spot was strategically placed far enough away from the door that they wouldn’t see your details through the banister. As far as they were concerned you were just a curious kid. A very big curious kid.

“They” were the people Hank was currently handling at the door. It had been only two days since the incident and it’s amazing it took them this long to reach your door. Three men in suits and a woman in a white coat knocked at your door just after lunch.

Sending the students from the hall Hank took control of the situation. Never outright telling you to leave the main hall but did make a similar “shoo” gesture that he gave the kids while telling them to make their exit.

Although the distance gave you an advantage it also kept you from hearing what was being said. The men on the other side weren’t giving enough body language to tell if they were upset or not. Only one seemed to be talking, the others were moving side to side on their feet. If Hank were to move too far to one side or the other they’d try and make their way inside.

“They don’t have a right to take you, not legally or in anyway.” Hank had reassured you hours earlier.

It started to get tense on the other side of the room. One of the men giving up on waiting for an opening and trying to make one himself.

Hank’s change can happen slow or it can happen so fast you don’t even realize it. The friendly approach of a regular human at the door was abandoned the moment they showed aggression. Blue arms and baring teeth made all three jump, reaching for their hips. The woman in white, the seeming bravest of the group, steps forward. A hand reached out, but the door is slammed in her face.

Jean Gray:

Life is confusing and everyone is screaming.

At first their screams were sympathetic; they were screams of fear and pain. But after hearing them non-stop for several minutes it’s hard to feel bad. It was almost like they were doing it on purpose. Like, if they just shut up for one second you could figure what was happening.

They didn’t, though, they wouldn’t shut up. Distracting you from the indestructible bubbles creating and growing in the walls, machines and skin. Expanding and tearing everything apart.

There’s two other voices among the screaming that stands out: the first is the loudest. It’s the purest form of anger and fear that could ever be made. It was also the most annoying, if that one person would just shut-the-fuck-up you could probably think. The other voice is the only one not screaming. It wasn’t sweet or kind like it was before, it was harsh and stern. Power behind the voice making it louder then a scream ever could be.  

It was pretty obvious whose voice was yours and who’s belonged to Jean.

Jean’s voice was like that. It was powerful, it was a strict father’s and a commanding mother’s combined. If she wanted to, she could make it impossible to escape her voice. She uses this power of voice now: Where your ears can’t take any information, but your mind was burst open and unprotected.

You never understood what she was saying completely. Only that it was nice, and that it made everything go black.

Logan/ Wolverine:

More than half the population of earth is smarter than Logan. He’s more than willing to admit that, but what he did know was not to poke an already agitated bear. That’s all you were in that moment. A very pissed off bear sitting in the corner of a glass square.

It honestly wouldn’t have been that bad if Peter hadn’t compared it to the cages Magneto had been in. That was when everything seemed to become real for you.

This was only way that there wouldn’t be an absolute hunt for mutants. Your containment in exchange for a lie told by the Secretary of Defense to the entire world. That, no, there was not “mutant attack”, this was an unexplained, isolated incident. One that was now being held in the basement of a government building until your fate is decided.

“Are you allowed to smoke in here?” You ask, picking at the bottom of your white scrubs.

“I didn’t see the signs.” He says, waiting for someone to dare and yell at him about the cigar.

Instead of asking for the cigar verbally you raise a hand towards one of the small breathing holes. He slides it towards you, butt first. Only giving a little direction on how to puff the thing instead of straight up inhale it.

Smoking anything while stressed was a good way to start a bad habit. Something Logan tried to keep you from. Given the situation, he allowed the nicotine high you were gonna get from working on the thing. It was another test for this place. A test to see just how long or how many little rules he could break before someone yelled at him.

Not that he would ever use this knowledge for selfish means. It was just good to know when things would start to go south. Not that the Professor gave him permission, he just didn’t tell him not to.

Kurt Wagner:

Any pictures or footage taken of you during the incident were stolen straight from hell. That was the only aspect anyone cared about; the ones where you were wild and there was nothing in your eyes except for uncontrolled power.

No one thought about the few seconds after the incident. That instead of power there was confusion and fear. Staring at your hands and into the world looking for answers.

That scene only lasted a few seconds. Long enough for the blue devil to match your hell appear and disappear with you.

Like a child you went to bed without dinner. Although it was by choice, and this wasn’t your bed. It was a hiding place in the same building that your seekers were searching. But with a protective layer of blankets, and an extra layer of your boy sitting in front of the door, you could enjoy these last few minutes before your life goes to hell.