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phantomrose96 · 3 years ago

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For Pennies

Warm-up mini fic. Consider this a doodle.

....

The Fentons were selling their house for pennies.

The “For Sale” sign out front was easily missed against the ostentatious display of the op center, and the “FENTON” sign, and the Fenton RV. Or perhaps, all that made it more noticeable. It bolstered the weird and unsettling mundanity of a standard-issue For Sale sign dictating the fate of a house so indescribably odd.

It took only a few curious gossips to find the listing, and to spread the news further when the listing asked for hardly a fifth of standard asking price. Real estate agents weighed in on town facebook pages that, yes, this was abysmally low. Others rationalized it. “It’s only natural. Those house modifications have killed the resale value. The basement is uninhabitable according to the listing. They’re selling an extreme fixer-upper.”

And when the house did not sell in the first week, the price dipped again. And when rumors spread that the house owners were responsible for the town’s ghost blight, the price dipped once again. Then nearly overnight, the op-center vanished, and the FENTON sign disappeared from sight. The Fentons were, if nothing else, impressive engineers, capable of undoing a lifetime’s work in a weekend. Soon after, the listing sold.

The buyer, Peter, was looking for fixer-uppers to flip and rent. He knew about the Amity Park rumors, but if the renting market proved stale for the fear of ghosts, he knew the airbnb market would thrive with curious tourists, so the property was a safe bet regardless.

He met the family once, in the house, when he came to inspect it and sign paperwork if he was satisfied. The husband was perhaps the biggest man Peter had ever seen, portly yet rock solid, clad head to toe in neon orange. The wife matched him in jumpsuits, a powder blue one. Their daughter seemed normal, though she and Peter only exchanged a handful of words.

“Where are you folks headed once this place is sold?” Peter asked, cordially, eyes flitting between the contract before him and the couple seated across the table.

“Westward, a bit. Um, Maddie’s got a sister out there. We’re trying to be closer to family.”

Peter nodded. “Always good to have family around.” He glanced in the daughter’s direction. “Are you excited to be moving closer to your aunt?”

The daughter met his gaze, level. “I’m not going with them, actually.”

“Oh?” Peter asked. “Headed to college? That would make sense.”

“I’m a rising senior,” the girl answered.

“Jazz is—” the mother, Maddie, cut in. “It’s well, it’s about to be her senior year of high school. Hard time to switch schools, you know? She’s going to be renting a place nearby so she can finish school here.”

“Oh? First time living all on your own?” Peter asked, initialing a page of the contract.

“I’m 17. It’s not that weird.”

“Never said it was. I remember my first place pretty fondly. It’s an exciting milestone, don’t waste it!”

Peter initialed another page. He spun the document back to the Fentons to sign as well.

“Well, I really like the place, is what I’ve got to say. The newly redone flooring on this floor was a perk I wasn’t expecting, can’t have been cheap. You still managed to keep the price amazing though. Don’t worry about the dings and scratches – I’ve got the art of fixing up places down to a science. I’ll take a crack at the basement too.”

“We’d rather you didn’t,” Maddie answered.

Peter waved her off. “I know it was some kind of lab, yeah? You won’t be liable if I say, spill acid on myself or dunk myself in radiation or, whatever you had going on down there. We can go over that clause of the contract again if you want. Ghosts, right?”

“It’s dangerous—”

“If I can’t hack it, I’ll seal up the basement for good. But I won’t know until I try. Seriously, don’t worry.”

The Fentons signed the final page, and flipped the contract back around to Peter. He pulled an envelope from his coat – a check made out with the full amount. No loan needed. No mortgage. Their asking price was practically pocket change.

The daughter excused herself from the room.

…

The Fenton basement had fewer wonders than Peter was expecting.

He swung a flashlight around, as the bulb hanging overhead had been cut from the main power supply. Most everything had been cleared out, leaving a room hollowed out. His feet clicked across the metal floor. Walls of bolted steel rose high on all four sides. On the opposite wall, the scars of heavy bolting remained, along with the smoky stain of something huge, and geometric, no longer bolted to the wall.

He swung his beam wide, across every which wall beveling with bloated shadows, until he pinned the electrical panel.

“There you are.”

It took some tampering, and some patience, because something had physically demolished the box before him. Peter knew his way around basic house wiring, so it took only a few experimental adjustments until he threw the breaker, and the industrial light overhead clunked to life.

Peter turned, surveying the mouse cage of pure, uninterrupted steel sheeting, bolted together wall to wall, across the floor, across the ceiling. It was an impressive expanse of space, and under the proper flood lighting Peter could make out the deeper shadowy stains of where industrial cabinets used to be affixed to the floors, the walls. He was staring into the burnt out afterimage of what, he could only conjecture, had once been an impressive scientific facility.

It wasn’t above being carpeted and turned into a rec room.

Peter paused, his eyes training to the back corner near the octagonal imprint left in the wall. Something seemed amiss, something with color, popping bright against a display of pure ash and silver.

Peter stepped forward, flashlight still pointed though it served little use now. The space took shape – a rectangular impression on the floor, about as large as a twin bed, formed a negative image. The rectangle was spotlessly clean, silver and shiny, as though recently cleaned and polished and recleaned and repolished.

It was the edges of the rectangle, the spatters of space stretching beyond it, that held Peter’s attention.

Green, verging toward a rusty brown, splattered the floor. He stepped closer, and knelt, and stared at the pattern. Like a dropped vial of green chemicals that shattered and spattered the floors, the neighboring wall. Like radioactive spill left to eat into the floor. Peter thought back to his radioactive quip, and wondered if he should perhaps back away.

He set a nail to one of the stains and scratched at it. It would not lift. It would not budge. He swung the flashlight beam, and he found the stains glittered, and then dulled where they edged closer to rust.

And it was the rust that confused Peter the most. That copper color, like pennies, that morphed away from the green. It wasn’t uniform. It did not eat away symmetrically at the edges of the stains. Instead it spattered, and dragged, and molded from droplets to long streaks dragging across the floor like chalk dust on a blackboard.

Peter followed them. The streaking ended. Beyond that, he caught a single droplet speckled into the floor a foot away. Another, when he swung his beam. And another. He followed them, one by one, tracing them back to the basement stairs, up, up, up, up.

At the top of the stairs, the trail vanished. The brand new hardwood flooring that stretched through the whole first floor was immaculate.

#danny phantom #dp #dp fanfiction #implied character death

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yamithediaperdork · 3 years ago

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Billy's Birthday Bash part 1 (DC)

Billy yawned and sat up in bed, reaching over and turning off his alarm clock which was blabbering away about how the justice league had saved the day last night, again. from alien attackers, Again.

"Like I don't know that." Billy muttered, swinging his blanket off and twisting in his bed so his bare feet could hit the floor. "I was only there."

Billy Batson after all was the secret identity of the world's mightiest mortal Shazam, gifted with gifts from seven gods and one of the league's heavy hitters.

Just thinking about that brought a smile to the 13 year old hero's face and he turned to pose in in the mirror in his bedroom, and then his face fell as he saw his reflection.

while once he said his magic word he was a 6'9 muscled beefcake, the image looking back him with it's scrawny arms and chest which were covered with a faded flash themed PJ top while around his hips was a semi bulky and again flash themed overnight diaper, that was drooping from being used many times (Thankfully only wettings though, something he confirmed with a quick pat to his padded rear and a sniff of the air) despite Billy having only made it to bed at around 3 am.

He hadn't of been worried about getting in trouble for being out so late though.

the once orphan had been happily adopted and taken in by one Barry Allen and got alone great with his new dad and tried to be pleasant around Miss west, Barry's girlfriend who came over often enough to have her own key.

It wasn't that she was unpleasant or anything, it was just with Billy's 'problems' acting up bad enough that he needed his diapers basically 24/7, she insisted on diaper checks, even in front of her nephew Wally who'd come over sometimes with her and was like the coolest guy ever!

The reason why he hadn't of been worried about Barry finding out though was because Barry was also a member of the Justice league, ironically the Flash who's symbol had been on the front of the bulky diaper at one point.

"You'd think he'd be mad these things even exist since till Bat's set up that account for us there was no way to collect royalties." Billy grumbled to himself.

But when asked Barry admitted if he could help kids like Billy who had potty issues feel big and brave like superhero's, He was fine with the diapers being made and mostly didn't touch his share of the royalties.

though as Billy's legal guardian Shazam couldn't touch his share either without permission and was irked that Barry would use some of Billy's money to stock up on his diapers.

"I'm teaching you to be reasponable. if you have to pay for the diapers you'll be less likely to rip them up like that first pack Iris got you." Barry had reminded Billy, with a smirk on his face but a slight stern tone.

"I said sorry..besides they had stupid ponies and stuff on them." Billy had whined back.

still he fell in line and even if he had wanted to just blast the diapers with his lighting some times and suck up the wasted cost, with his new day's symbol on it he just couldn't do it.

Since he was only wet Billy was allowed to change himself, there had been the great carpet incident a few days after he'd moved in trying to change a dirty diaper on his own and Barry had made him pinky swear to ask for help with those.

since Billy was on the family plan and had his own cell phone he could just discretely call Barry when he was smelly, though thankfully his daytime accidents were few and fair in between.

Snapping the tapes off Billy had a minor moment sulkiness again since his budding pubic hair had been shaved clean because of his diapers, though he had to admit Barry had been right, he was getting a LOT less rashes.

balling the soggy diaper up and holding it out with one hand, Billy took a deep breath and pinched his nose with the other one as he stepped on the foot petal for his diaper pail and dropped it in, not wishing to smell memories of diaper past.

with that done he walked around enjoying the lack of a waddle in his step for the precious few moments he would and tugged opened his version of a underwear drawer, stocked full of daytime and overnight flash brand diapers.

"Gee, what's a boy to wear, flash themed disposable undies or flash themed disposable undies?" He asked, tapping a finger on his chin and smirking a little."the struggle is real for 13 year old pants wetter."

"heh, Oh really?" Came a voice from the doorway and Billy yelped and tugged to tug his shirt down, even though he knew Barry had seen everything.

"B-Barry knock!" He huffed, and blushed, hands over over his crotch now.

"I did, someone was off in his own little world.. in fact so off he forgot what today is." Barry said and smirked, pointing over to a Shazam themed calendar on the wall, with the dates date circled in red."Your not 13 anymore silly. Happy birthday~"

Billy, who normally was ignored on his birthday either by choice or lost in the shuffle while in foster care really had forgotten and now grinned big time.

"That's right! I get a real party, with cake, and ice cream an-" Billy was saying and was cut off as Barry zipped over, a little bit slower in his blue jeans and denim shirt but not by much and was ruffling Billy's hair.

"And you get a birthday spanking." Barry teased, but winked to let Billy know he was joking.

"Try it and I'll saw you know what." Billy giggled and blew a raspberry.

"Hmmm flash vs. Shazam in a spanking fight. we could sell out areas. But At last, your butt's just too cute to mare." Barry chuckled and gave the boys chubby cheeks a soft pat before zipping back to the door frame.

the pat while gentle, was unexpected and Billy yelped and a little trickle of pee came out, something Barry missed but the now hard wood floor of Billy's room could handle it.

"Finish getting dressed buddy and I'll get this cleaned up in-"

"Don't say it!" Billy groaned rolled his eyes.

"A flash!" Barry said, zipping off as Billy snatched a pair of daytime diapers out.

'He's so corny sometimes.' Billy thought.

Dressed in a red t-shirt and a baggy pair of black shorts that did a good job of hiding the bulk of his padding (there there was a tell tale crinkle for those listening for it) he made his way to the dinning room and grinned ear to ear as the table was loaded with chocolate pancakes, blue berry waffles, fried eggs, scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages and a pitcher of chocolate milk and a pitcher of orange juice.

with how fast Barry's metabolism was he was always making big meals and was part of the reason Billy had put on some much needed wait, but even so, this was above and beyond.

with drool trailing down his chin he grabbed a plate and looked over the feast, almost at a lost of where to begin.

"heh, Did daddy do good or did daddy do good?" Barry asked, zipping into the room.

"This. Is. Awesome!" Billy squealed. "Was this all you or did Iris help too?" Billy asked.

"She's out of town on a assignment for a news papers, she's sorry she's gonna miss the party." Barry said, looking sorry.

"Well it's ok." Billy said, starting to load up his plate, a impish grin coming across his face. "we can just have anther party with more cake when she gets back. It'll be hard having all that sugar and getting double presents, but it's a sacrifice I am willing to make." he said, topping off his plate and plopping his butt onto his special chair.

with his bulky diapers and the fact he leaked sometimes, Barry had gotten him a dinner chair with sides coming up to the middle of his tummy so Billy wouldn't lose balance and fall off, and it had a plastic cover for a easier clean up instead of the stained oak that the rest of the chairs had.

Naturally Billy had been least then pleased at the fact he had a toddler chair but after falling off of the other chairs three times he'd finally bit the bullet.

"Oh, your willing to have two party's huh? truly, your a saint among men. We'll see what happens." Barry said, coming over and getting his own plate while taking a second to mentally gush at just how adorable Billy looked, his legs kicking under the table as he scooped food in his mouth like he hadn't eaten in a month. "Heh, wow, and I thought I was fast..slow down before you choke buddy."

Billy as normal, took that warning as a challenge and sped up.

After 4 helpings Billy just sat back in his chair, burping softly and groaning as he put a hand to his belly, not even offering a fight as Barry came over with a cloth to wipe his face and hands.

"Did somebody maybe eat more then he should of?" Barry asked sweetly, as he helped the groaning boy out of the chair, and after a second picked him up, setting him on his hip and patting his back.

Billy's reply was a loud blench and Barry winced, glad he'd had the foresight to get Billy's head over his shoulder.

"well put. any follow ups?" Barry chuckled, and kept patting, this wasn't Billy's first semi food coma and he doubted it would be the little thunder champions last.

Billy went to open his mouth to say something then a loud booming fart blasted out of his bottom and for a split second Barry wondered if his arm would of been burnt if not for the padding.

"I-I didn't..I.." Billy whimpered and buried his head into Barry's shoulder and Barry could feel the heat from the boys face.

"Hey..hey..it's ok. fart's happen. besides you've gone uh-oh in my lap so this is hardly worse." Barry said, tilting his head and giving the poor blushing little guy a smooch on the head.

"N-Not helping!" Billy whined.

"Ok ok, I'll drop it.. here let's get you sat down and watching some carto-" Barry started to say but anther thunder poot from the champion of lighting cut him off.

"gawd! that stinks!" Billy whined.

"...Or Maybe you wanna go and sit on the potty." Barry said trying to be nice, but the boy wasn't wrong.

"I know when I have to go poop Barry!" Billy huffed and two more loud farts came out and the boy switched from huffy to shocked. "..and that would be right now. Potty daddy!"

Any other daddy wouldn't of stood a chance in the world, But Barry Allen didn't call him the fastest man alive for nothing, but even then it was a close call as he barley got Billy's shorts and diaper down and got him on the toilet before the boy started to unleash hell.

Knowing how Billy valued some privacy, Barry left almost as quick as he'd gotten him in there, though not before bringing a few room freshers into the bathroom and opening a window.

'don't want him to pass out form his own stink.. man..I wonder if there's anther god powering.. skunkculues, champion of stink.' Barry mused as he waited outside the bathroom door just in case he was needed.

Billy groaned as he hunched over and pounded a fist on the sink's counter, wondering if maybe he had a natural power over lava because that's what this felt like as he made use of the potty.

His own stink was assaulting his nose though thankfully daddy had set it up so it would be as bad, though he still ended up having to flush a couple of times just to help with the smell.

Sweating, Panting and feeling drained, he barley had it in him to wipe himself when it was all said and done, and swore he'd never cram that much food into his tummy again all at once.

(of course since he swore that once every three or so days the oath may of fallen on deaf ear.)

which his cheeks wiped, Billy went to stand up on shaky legs and plopped back down, then noticed the shart stains in the back of the diaper and signed.

"Dadddd..IUh...I need help." he called out. huffing and slumping, elbows on his knees and waiting.

when the door opened up and his cousin/cool bro via adoption opened the door Billy yelped and in vain tried to cover up the diaper around his ankles.

4 minutes earlier...

Wally who had retired from the superhero game while going to collage and trying to be a CSI like Barry, had surprised Barry by showing up for the party.

"Wally! good to see you!" Barry had said, shaking the younger mans hand, but then, ever the good daddy/uncle had narrowed his eyes. "Aren't you suppose to be in class right now?"

"The professor for the only class I had today had a family emergency, so the class was called off, and I was gonna try and make it anyways." Wally said, keeping his voice down and Barry picked up on it and kept his down as well.

"Ah, a birthday surprise for Billy." Barry said and smirked. "you know he thinks the world of you right?"

"I might of picked up on that. hence why I pretend not to notice his little problem." Wally chuckled and ran a hand though his orange hair. "you'd think he would of linked how Aunt Iris doesn't do bum checks when I'm around with it buttt.."

"Heh, Well he see's what he wants to see. He's on the potty right now though so maybe if you hi-" Barry started to say when his com beeped.

it wasn't his JL com, but the one he'd given the Meta human crimes department for central and Keystone city, being the hero of the twin cities.

dashing over he answered it, and frowned, then dashed back to Wally but even as he did he was in costume.

"I hate to do this, but Weather wizard and Captain cold are causing heck in Keystone. could you stay with Billy? he might need a little help." Barry said and gestured his head to the bathroom.

"Of course. Listen, if you need any back up.. I might not have my costume, but after Billy gets out.."

"Hey, I'll handle it. I'll be back.."

"in a flash. I know I know." Wally groaned, having the same opinion as Billy about the phase.

Barry just smirked like it was the worlds greatest dad joke and took off.

"W-Wally!? Get out! I-" Billy was whining and had actual tears welling up in his eyes, making Wally just wanna hug him.

"Billy, Billy listen to me, Barry had to go and fight the rouges, I came here for your party..and I've know about your diapers since Barry adopted you." Wally said, cutting right to the chase.

"..No you haven't! I was super careful and someone as cool and awesome as you wouldn't wanna hang out with a diaper wetting baby!" Billy whined, in denial even as Wally sighed and shook his head.

"Really Billy? I'm training to be a CSI, so I'm learning to notice little things, I move at super speed, not as fast as Barry but still, and you crinkle lots." Wally listed off on his hand, raising fingers, then giving Billy a hurt look. "Also, you think SO little of me I wouldn't wanna hang out with a awesome and cool little guy like you just because you have accidents?"

"But..I.." Billy whimpered and sniffled, and went to wipe at his tears with his arm but Wally was there, with a wad of tissue.

"Hey, it's ok Billy. Truth be told, I wet the bed for 3 years after getting my powers. But My Parents weren't as nice and Uncle Barry and aunt Iris. they were the ones who looked after me like they're looking after you now. so no more tears alright? let's get you dressed and then we can play some video games." Wally said, and ruffled the boys hair.

Billy gave him a smile and then hugged Wally's waist, and the 19 year old almost melted and patting his head.

Tossing the dirty diaper, Wally got Billy in a clean over night diaper, and added powder, though Billy whined a little he was pacified by Wally saying he thought those looked cooler.

Going off of that logic Billy when offered a pair of baggy pants to go over the thicker diaper went all shy.

"uh. well..I mean.. if you wanna see this diaper because it's cuter.. and we're not going out anywhere.." Billy said, squirming and shifting all around.

"..I do think it's cuter, and Barry said he'd call if he needed us. Uh.. " wally trailed off and then blushed himself, and put a hand behind his head. "I have ONE question that's been bugging me."

"heh, what is it?" Billy said, holding up his arms for the older boy to pick him up.

"when you change.. do you have to take the diapers off first or..how does that work?!" Wally asked, picking him up and gushing as Billy cuddled in.

"heh, Nah, the big guy isn't padded, and as to how that works.." Billy paused and let wally hold his weight as he spread his hands, wiggling his fingers.

"Maggggggic~"

Wally snorted and smirked.

"your such a dork sometimes you know that?" he asked playfully, carrying Billy at normal speed down the stairs.

"Pffft please, I've seen you marking out over dad's cases when going over them with him, and not his stuff as flash, but as Barry Allen,CSI."Billy teased back.

Wally huffed and blushed himself and then smirked.

"You're lucky your cute or I'd super speed your butt to central park right now."

"heh, you wouldn't do that, A) because I'd say the word and leave, B) because Dad would kick you butt and C).." Billy said and tapped Wally's chest as he listed off his points. "You'd made me cry and hate yourself for it~"

"..Dang, guilty as charged."

Getting into the living room, Wally sat Billy on the couch and then went to look though the selection of games they had for two player.

"Super monkey fury 5 good for you?" He asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Um..whatever YOU think is a cool game!" Billy said, and gave a big grin.

he might of been 14 but in his diaper and t-shirt, and all eager to please his 'big bro' figure, he looked like a toddler.

"Heh, it's YOUR special day Billy, whatever YOU wanna play we'll play it." wally chuckled.

"W-Wellll.. Dad doesn't let me play Duty calls a lot because it's so violent.." Billy said, poking two fingers together.

"..I think Barry will understand." Wally smirked and put the game in, coming over with controllers for both of them.

As Wally sat down he was surprised as Billy moved from his spot next to him to sitting in his lap.

"heh,What are y-"

"it's MY Special day right?" Billy asked, flashing his imp smirk. "So I can sit anywhere I want.. rightttt?"

"heh. of course."

Barry hated how long it took him to deal with the rouges, they had gotten reinforcements from mirror master so it took longer then he would of liked to finish up, plus then he had to deal with the police over and handle the press, all part of keeping up the hero image and while any other day it wouldn't of irk'ed him, knowing he was missing out on Billy's big day, he was short tempered

he had almost snapped at Detective Morro, a long time friend on the force in both identities but caught himself.

"you ok Flash?" his friend asked.

"I..I'm missing out on my kid's birthday party for this." Barry admitted.

"heh, didn't know you HAD a kid. go on, get." the heavy set cigar chomping hard ass said. "We'll try to manage without you for the rest of the day...Oh, tell yer kid happy birthday."

"heh, Will do!" Barry said and after a trademark flash salute, was off and running.

Getting back to the house Barry found Billy in Wally lap and whining a little, sucking his thumb and a kiddy cartoon was on the TV, much younger then Billy usually liked to watch.

"Hey guys, I'm back, whats going on?" Barry asked.

"Oh well see, I was a jerk and tried to make Billy play a game I like an-" Wally started to speak up but a whimpering Billy cut him off.

"Noo! it was me! I made Wally play duty call's with me and it was way more awful then I thought and I know I've done worse as you know who but but..I dunno and I started to cry and and-" Billy whined and whimpered.

"..Billy when your Shazam you have the wisdom of Solomon that let's you work out why you have to do the things you do. not so much as yourself. that's why I didn't want you playing that, you're not in trouble, either of you but I think we're gonna keep it to cartoons or silly games for the day." Barry said, coming over and as Wally hugged the whining Billy in his lap, Barry did too and Billy sniffled and smiled.

"Kay"

with Billy calmed down, they sat down for a few episodes of different baby shows, with billy giggling and clapping alone even if Wally and Barry were bored out of their skulls. trying to break it up they pulled out a few board games but after having to watch Billy do his 'i won you lost' diaper booty shake 4 times in a row (which admittedly was pretty cute with his diaper butt on display) they switched from candy land to clue, where Wally won 2 out of the 4 games.

Barry technically could of won the other two but played bad on purpose for the last game where billy was getting all huffy.

After that they played pay day and once again were subjected to Billy's singing about how awesome he was and how much they sucked, while wiggling his padded rear in their faces but compared to the sulky silence that losing brought, Barry and wally put up with it.

Or at least they tried to till in the middle of shaking his butt in both their faces Billy froze and then let out a muffled poot.

"Really Billy?" Barry asked, waving his left hand at super speed to blow the smell away.

"I-I didn't mean to.d-do that! I'm Sorry!" Billy squeaked and turned around, blushing and starting to tear up. "P-Please don't ha-"

Before Billy could finish his thought, Wally and Barry were on either side of Billy, hugging him.

"Hey, hey, It's alright, Fart's happen." Wally was saying, rubbing and patting Billy's back.

"And I'm 90 percent sure you wouldn't fart on me after winning a game. Now if you lost.." Barry said and winked, patting billy's bum.

"D-Daddy!"

"Hmmm, Feels like it was just a fart, do you wanna sit on the potty just to be sure buddy?" Barry asked.

"Daddy, I know when I have to po-" Billy started and let out a long fart, one eye half closing and a leg coming up. the fart went from a normal sounding if massive one to wet and muddy, then Billy's leg came down and he was popping a squat.

Of course either Wally or Barry could of gotten him to the bathroom, but honestly, they had both agreed wordlessly to just let him fill his diapers.

"D-Daddy I'm Pooping!" Billy whined, as if Wally or Billy couldn't of told, and they just hugged him tighter and went double time with the bum and back pats as he whimpered and put his face in either shoulder, bearing down and finishing up even as whimpers of 'stinky' came out of his mouth.

As the diaper drooped in the back and Billy finished up, he sniffled a few times then pulled back.

"D-Daddy..Wally..Diapie change?" He asked in a voice that made him sound like a toddler.

"Of course buddy. I'll have you clean i-" Barry started to say but Wally moved his hand over and closed Barry's lips.

"I'll change him it means I don't have to hear that pun again." Wally said and winked to Billy even as Barry's eyes went wide from shock then a little glare.

Billy meanwhile was giggling like crazy and hands coming up his mouth to try and hide it.

Barry got Wally's fingers off his lips and smirked.

"oh, you think that's funny little man?" Barry asked, looking to wally and giving a evil smirk.

"I mean.. Kinda.. sowwy.." Billy said.

"Oh come on Barry, it WAS funny." Wally said and smirked.

"..Not as funny as this is gonna be." Barry said and Wally saw what was going to happen but could never beat Barry's speed, so was too slow to stop what happened next.

His hand moving at a blur, Barry smushed and squished the mess in the diaper around, making sure the boom boom went EVERY where as Billy's mouth formed a O and Wally groaned.

Zipping up to his feet Barry smirked.

"Have fun cleaning that up.. Oh and you can't use speed speed for cleaning up a poopie diaper, it'll hurt billy's bum." Barry said and went off to go and start working on lunch.

"wait what?!"Wally yelped.

"I..Poopie all over..I.." Billy was mumbling, looking out of it, and swaying back and forth on his feet, too out of it for Wally to ask if that was really a thing.

"DICK MOVE BARRY!" Wally yelled, then cradled Billy, the smell was even worst now and Wally gulped, wondering if he was strong enough to do this.

Billy mewed softly and wrapped his arms around Wally's neck and nuzzled his head into Wally's chest.

"I Sowwy. I stinky." Billy mewed, eyes semi glazed over.

Looking at how much Billy needed him, Wally found the will power needed and dashed billy off to the bathroom, though he did a slight detour to get a clothespin for his nose.

'maybe it won't be as bad as I think.' Wally thought, getting Billy on his back on a towel in the bathroom, sliding the little guys thumb into his mouth and gushing at how cute he looked.

opening the diaper, Wally realized it wasn't as bad as he thought.

it was worse, much much much.

Wally wasn't a stranger to changing diapers, as big of a family as he had and baby sitting jobs but this was the record for longest and grossest he'd ever handled.

going though a whole freshly opened box of wipes, he got it done, going at normal speed and taking time to comfort billy and talk softly to him.

it took the better part of 15 minutes, and then just to be safe Wally gave Billy a quick bath, semi worried as Billy had apparently slipped into a baby mode of sorts and was playing with some rubber duckies while Wally washed him, at one point offering one of the duckies he had been chewing on to wally.

"Uh..No thanks. you keep chewing." Wally said with a sweat drop.

Billy just giggled and nodded, noming on his ducky and letting wally wash him, only fussing when his hair was being washed, though thankfully Barry had gotten no more tears shampoo.

with Billy washed up all nice and clean, Wally got him dried off with a big fluffy towel and was walking him back toward his room to get him dressed when Barry cut him off, holding one of the presents under one arm.

"Thought I heard the tub running.Lunch is ready downstairs, I'll get the birthday boy dressed. go get something to eat." Barry said.

"Heh, Sure, now that I've handed all the smelly stuff you wanna tag in." Wally teased, and Billy giggled.

"What can I say, Perks of being a daddy and honorary uncle." Barry said.

Wally just shook his head and headed down the step while Billy toddled along side Barry, wrapped up in the towel and then just laid back his bed, willing to let Barry do all the work.

"heh, your being pretty cute kiddo. maybe you should poop your pants more often." Barry teased, tickling billy's tummy and getting a fit of giggles out of him.

Deciding with how little Billy was acting and the bigger accidents he was have, Barry got billy into a daytime diaper but cut slit in the front of back of it first, while Billy watched with a confused look and a finger on his bottom lip.

"Ummm daddy, what cha doing? I'm leak all over now." Billy pointed out.

"Well, if that was your only diapie you would, but daddy figures since we're not going out and you're having lots of accident's.." Barry said and pulled out the bulky bed time diaper.

"Sheesh, I'll be waddling like a toddler with both of these on!" Billy said and stuck out his tongue.

"I know! I don't know why i didn't think of this sooner!" Barry gushed and got a raspberry from billy.

with the bulky diaper taped up over the thinner one, Barry helped billy stand up and gushed and coo'ed at how Billy's legs were forced apart.

"Sheesh, One more and I think I'd be stuck crawling!" Billy said, rubbing the back of his head.

"Don't temp me." Barry said then handed Billy the present. "Here, open this up, it's from Iris and I thought it might be useful right now."

Warning bell's were going off in Billy's head as he took the present and he had to suppress a groan, it was a flash themed diaper shirt.

"Well what do you think? Iris noticed that your diaper sag a lot when you got pants-less and this will help! Heck, might even get you a few of theses if it works out. but for now,you can be the fastest pamper butt alive!" Barry asked.

"..I think I'll save it special occasions." Billy tried and Barry just laughed.

"Silly boy, this is your birthday, that IS special, here, I'll help you get it on." Barry said taking the diaper shirt from Billy and dashing around the boy. in seconds he was snugly fit in the diaper shirt.

Despite how humiliating it was to need the shirt for his saggy diapers, Billy had to admit it felt right, even if his bulky diapers semi showed.

"Soooo?" Barry asked.

"..I could get used to it. " he said and started to head for the door, realizing just HOW bad his waddling was now as Barry squealed behind him. "..I'll calling it in. carry me."

Billy sighed then giggled, holding his arms out.

"Well if I HAVE to." Barry laughed, coming over and picking up Billy and heading for the dinner table.

So far the day had been fun and cute, and it was only gonna get better.

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passivenovember · 4 years ago

Text

Sometimes I get really high and cry about how I don’t have anything from my childhood home. So here’s this.

WARNINGS FOR: mentions of suicide, Billy healing from the incident at Starcourt.

He’s never been fed by what is inherently sentimental. Even as a little boy, those precious creatures that lived on the highest shelf in his heart were easily destroyed or ripped away by the person he was becoming. Stuffed toys fell to pieces under the heat of his anger, the toxic potion that was brewing under the surface of his skin ate away at the rose-colored hue surrounding his childhood home to the point of absolute degradation.

Billy doesn't remember a time when he longed for the sanctity of his bedroom. For the pale yellow sunlight streaming past blood stained Thomas the Train curtains, or the box of broken toys that Neil had left alone. He doesn't remember when it happened, when the flip switched and his longing went from missing Saturday morning cartoons in his parents bed to simply missing his mother and all the things she had taken when she jumped off the roof.

It wasn't always like that. Billy remembers something else. He remembers a blanket that smelled like cinnamon toast crunch, adorned with microscopic holes he liked to such his thumb through. He remembers a set of roller blades the color of crushed mustard seeds; Neil taught him to skate. No one knows that, no one remembers, but Billy. Does, he. Remembers strong fingers laced with his own, holding tightly while Billy figured out how to maneuver the cracks in the sidewalk.

Billy is haunted by a time when his fathers hands were good for other things.

Before Hawkins. Before that night when the demon punched a hole through his chest, Billy had been giving things away. To lighten the load, he supposes, that which had become unbearable.

First it was his skateboard.

Max wanted it.

At the time he didn't think it was as simple as all that; his bitchy kid sister begging, day in and day out for access to the magic carpet that sat entombed in Billy's closet. He hadn't used it in years, ever a slave to the bright blue ocean, but it didn't matter. It was the principal of the thing, the skateboard to his kneecap.

Max took and took and took until Billy had nothing left to give. She said you don't even use it anymore and Billy said doesn't matter, you can't skate.

Neil told him it could be good for bonding.

Neil told him Max was a good kid, she deserved to have something of her own in their house on Willowbrook Avenue.

Neil told him to hand it over before I stick it up your ass, kid.

So Billy ground his teeth together and tried to push down the aching emptiness at tossing away the last thing his grandmama had given him before she passed away. It was the principal of the thing--if Ruthann were still around she'd tell him to let the kid have it. Let her have something of her own, so. He polished its bearings and left it outside her bedroom door, pretended to read until she came knocking an hour later with confusion twisting her freckled face to shit.

You're sure I can have it. She asked.

And.

Yeah. I'll teach you.

He wonders if Max remembers those afternoons in the driveway that morphed into weekends at the skatepark with Max scuffing up the wheels and Billy tapping into his thin line of patience. Wonders if she's plagued by the memory of hidden smiles and misplaced affection, because. Billy had thought it would hurt more, giving away a piece of his childhood like that, but. He had long since stopped attaching emotional worth to things that broke. Things that crumbled.

He wonders if Max remembers a time when his hands were good for other things.

Billy made a habit of throwing away the things that weighed him down.

The skateboard, the blanket that smelled like cereal milk, he thought all of it made him weak. The more shit he had that mattered to him the more he had to lose, so. Every Spring Billy would wrap his fingers around the mouth of a big black trash bag and lighten his load. Scoop armfuls of his childhood into the abyss that always, somehow, incredibly operated as a portal to Max's room.

Sometimes he wondered if she even had a personality or if everything she had, everything she was, came directly from Billy's dumpster.

One man's trash, and all that.

She wore his old shirts. Read his books, hung discarded posters of naked chick's on the insides of her closet doors for some fucking reason, and. In a weird way Billy felt like maybe he was being immortalized. Every phase of his life was shone back at him like the surface of a lake, or a shiny new penny on the dashboard of the Camaro, and he felt good. Useful, for his trash becoming someone's gold.

So Billy kept tossing things out.

Reorganizing and downsizing until his room looked like a generic movie set for a troubled teen. Every weekend Billy packed the little pieces of himself into neat trash bags, tying the lip closed and leaving them for max. Nestled at the foot of her door, like a bargain brand Christmas gift that was not at all what she had asked for. Gifts that came 52 times a year.

The bags always vanished. Billy felt heavy and light. Heavy and light. In the end he wasn't sad to see it go.

Maybe it was just a side effect of growing up in the big, empty house on the hill and fighting the incessant need to fill it with shit but Steve Harrington was a packrat. The kid never got rid of anything. Before Starcourt. Before that night when the demon punched a hole through his chest, Billy would tease him about it.

What, like you need five binders full of empty laminate pages?

Steve's tongue would poke out of the corner of his mouth while his fingertips brushed the offended plastic. I'm going to start scrapbooking.

And that was is usual way, to find an explanation, a inarguable reason for all the junk in his life, but.

Billy thought it was okay to have things around for comfort.

Wasn't really his style, but it was Steve's and Billy didn't stop the kid from collecting whatever he could get those slim fingers on. Old NATARI cartages, broken HAM radio antenna's, torn polaroid's, annual Moms of Loch Nora Bake sale t-shirts; he kept everything in case an old timey push mower could prove itself to be useful.

Before that night when the demon punched a hole in his chest, Billy would smirk. What sad sack wants a MILF's face on his chest?

Steve just shrugged his shoulders. Someone could need it.

And Billy just snorted, because.

Harrington's a weird guy.

Thoughtful and pretty and so, so fucking weird.

When they brought Billy home from the hospital he slept in a shirt with Karen Wheelers face on it, every night for a week.

Funny how it all comes back around.

He spends a lot of time in bed with the covers pulled up under his chin. Draped in Steve's ridiculous knit sweaters and thick woolen socks because everything is cold, now. As if winter has settled rough and desperate into the very marrow of his bones and even though the fabric rubs too harshly against the healing rise of his stitched skin, Billy can't shed even a single layer for fear of freezing to death.

That's what it had felt like Before Starcourt. Before the monster punched a hole through his chest, when it just had its fingers inside his skull.

Endless winter.

Steve buys every type of heated blanket on the market. Searches high and low for expensive down t-shirts that will help you feel more comfortable, but. Billy doesn't even remember what that's supposed to feel like.

Steve says comfort feels like sleeping in on Saturday mornings because you don't have anywhere to be. Home sounds like your mother fixing pancakes just before lunch time but--oh. Everyone always remembers half a second too late. Billy tries to smile, tries to accept the help Steve gives him--he wears the sweaters and keeps the socks on after his morning bath even though he's not really a sock person because Steve is so hopeful.

Bright.

Steve smiles over the mug of hot cocoa he fixes Billy every morning and hopes. If we start the day warm, who knows?

Billy doesn't have the heart to tell him.

Steve spends a lot of time in bed. Plastered to Billy's skin--chest to back because Billy needs to feel like he's protecting something, after Starcourt. After that night when the demon punched a hole through his chest.

Sometimes Billy feels like Maxine.

Stealing bits and pieces from someone's garbage can. Here he is, sleeping in Steve's bed wearing Steve's clothes taking up such a large part of Steve's life, and.

Pretty Boy just snuggles closer and lends his warmth in more ways than one.

Billy doesn't always know how to handle it when those milky brown eyes watch him roll around under the covers until his body finally feels at peace. Every night Billy closes his eyes says the same thing. "I can be out of here by next week, if you--" Afraid to look for fear that he'll see relief reflected back at him.

Every night Steve says the same thing in return. "You're my whole world now, Billy."

As if that's supposed to get the car back on track. As if Billy hasn't veered off the road and crashed into a tree every single day since--

"Maybe it would make you feel better if, you know." Steve shuffles impossibly closer, the hot line of him charring Billy's skin even through the layers of wool. "If you had something familiar."

"You're familiar."

Steve's flesh burns even hotter. Eyes shining even bright, at that. Something almost like love. "I meant something from your childhood."

Billy rolls onto his side.

Steve moves with him without even thinking about it--chest to back because Steve needs to feel useful, after Starcourt. After that night when Billy hit the floor and the light went out of his eyes. Billy's chest rises against the palm of Steve's hand, where it's pressed against him. Steve will never get tired of that motion.

"I don't have anything from my childhood."

Which. "Not even at home?"

"This is home now." Billy sounds like he doesn't want to talk about it, but.

Steve can't bring himself to care. Or maybe stop caring. "I meant at Neil's."

"Got rid of all that shit." He can hear the tremor in Steve's voice, when the boy finally finds it.

"Neil got rid of your--"

"No." Billy says simply. "I did."

He can hear the wheels turning in that beautiful head. Steve swallows, the movement palpable in the thick night air. "But. Don't you miss it?"

After a while Billy shakes his head in the darkness, curls catching on the plaid pillowcase. It takes Steve a moment to decipher what it means, how it makes him feel that Billy can so easily toss away the things that no longer serve him.

They're quiet for a while. So long that Billy's breathing goes deep and even, a clear indicator that he's fallen asleep. Steve knows it won't last long, knows the nightmares wake him up, and.

Steve always stays awake through the first three to give Billy something familiar to hold onto.

#harringrove #idk what this is lol

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eugenesmorphine · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! I love your imagines!! Is it possible to request some Speirs fluff? Ty!

It Wasn’t Your Fault // Ronald Speirs Imagine

AN: Alright, I know this has a lot of angst, but I thought the idea of it was cute.

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @hihosilvers @floydtab @punkgeekchic

Words: 2,744

It was dark. So dark and quiet. His boots crunched down on small sticks and dried leaves as his body weight pressed down on them. His hands were clammy as he walked through the forest. The quiet was eerie, there wasn't a peep. No birds chirping, no leaves in the trees rustling from the wind. Just the sound of Ronald's own breathing and the sounds of his steps on the forest floor. He pressed his lips into a thin line as he was making sure to be alert, his eyes traveling everywhere. Looking between the trees, up into the trees, peering behind him to make sure no one was following him. He sighed and just kept walking.

He looked down, his service uniform looking brand new. Like the day they first wore them back in Camp Toccoa all those years ago. Ronald looked down at his hands. They were clean. no dirt beneath his nails, now callouses, no dried blood or blood stains. He smelt fresh, his hair soft and not greasy. His helmet had no dents or chipped paint. His boots still shiny and new. His eyebrows knotted in confusion as he kept examining himself. Only to be yanked from his thoughts and observing from a woman's laugh that rang from all around him.

"What the hell?" he muttered as he spun around. Trying to link the laugh to the woman. Knowing he wasn't crazy and the fact that he did in fact here a laugh. Ronald's hand went down to his pocket, trying to feel for the combat knife that he always carried. Only to realize it wasn't there. Her grumbled as he slowly turned back around. Jumping when his eyes met with a woman standing about twenty feet in front of him. Her hair long and the wind blowing it hard to the right. She had on a dirty service uniform. Blood, dirt, and mud clearly caked all over it. Her boots worn out, and her helmet littered with dents. But, her face clean. Her skin clear like porcelain. Ronald was just a few feet to far from really getting a good look at her face to see who the mystery woman was. A harsh and cold breeze hit, a hard shiver rushing down the back of the male's neck and spine. The laugh was heard once more. This time much louder. He could see the smile form on the female soldier in front of him.

"Hey! Who the hell are you? And where the hell are we?" Ronald called out. Taking a few steps forward, trying to get a clearer view of the woman's face. It was her eyes that caught his attention first, then her nose, then her lips, then the rosy color that flushed her cheeks and the tip of her nose. Her face all too familiar. A small smile growing on Ronald's lips. "Y/N! Is that you?" he called out once more. A strange feeling of the fact that his voice just went out into nothingness. The woman smiled, turning and taking off into the forest. Running deeper within it. Ronald chuckled slightly. "Fine Y/N, if you want me to chase you, It'll be just like old times!"

Ronald followed pursuit of the woman. Brushing past the branches and the leaves. Wind rushing in his face and his hair, his eyes stinging with tears as he sped up. The female Paratrooper who he made clear that it was in fact his love. But, the view of the running woman quickly disappeared into the depths of the thick forests. The officer huffed and pressed on farther. Pushing his legs harder to run faster.

A clearing in the trees was spotted, and Ronald sprinted as fast and as he could possibly could go. Knowing that his woman could be there on the other side. But as he ran through the clearing, he came to a hard and short stop. Realizing that right outside of the clearing, was a large drop. A cliff point was in front of him. And the woman was there standing on the very edge. Peering out at the scenery below and around. Ronald stood, trying to catch his breath. Walking forward and looking over the lip, seeing the drop the plummeted down. His breath hitched slightly as he stepped back, his eyes going back to the woman standing at the cliff point.

"Y/N, doll it's me. Ronald. Turn around," he spoke. His focus was grabbed by a led liquid drop down from the tips of her fingers. Falling down into the abyss that was hundreds of feet below the two. He stood up straight. "Y/N?" the woman turned around slowly. The face was hers. The body was hers. The uniform was hers. But it wasn't her. Blood now splattered onto her face. Fresh bullet holds littered her stomach and chest. Fresh blood dripped and soaked her uniform. Ronald's heart stopped for a moment as her eyes were so blank. No expression. No feelings. No emotions. Just an empty void. Her skin pale and looked lifeless. She went to speak. No words. Just a small gurgle. And follows by it was copious amounts of blood began to spill out of her mouth. Spilling down her chin and slipping down her uniform. Hitting the rock in front of her. Tears welled in her eyes as a few confused sob left his lips as he just watched in utter terror. The sound of his heart beating, sounding like it would beat out of his chest at any moment, pounding in his ears. He dropped down to his knees.

There she stood, at that cliff, blood dripping from her wounds and pouring out of her mouth. Each time she breathed out, more blood. Ronald felt his stomach flip. What the hell was happening. That's when the laughter started up again. Her laughter. It was light she was running around him, laughing. But now, she was in front of him. Dying.

She took a few steps closer to him. Ronald's hands flew up to his ears, pressing down on them with such force he could've probably fractured his skull. But the laughter got louder and louder. It was stuck in his head. Bouncing around in there. When all of a sudden it came to a stop. He looked up, a ringing now being heard. Now Y/N was there. Standing over him. Droplets of the warm blood dripped onto his cheeks and forehead. Her lips didn't move. But her voice audible and loud. Like static drilling into his head.

"You said you'd always be there for me... so how did this happen? Why weren't you there?"

///

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry," he muttered, squinting his eyes and tossing himself side to side. Gri[ping hard at the sheets. Ronald jumped upwards. With a loud gasp for air, his eyes shot open. His chest heaved up in down. He used his hands to push himself up into a sitting position. And when he felt the sheets and cushion of his bed, and the room around him. He realized it was just a dream. Just a bad dream. The retired Paratrooper's hand flew down to where she would be lying next to him. When his hand just hit air and then the bed sheets, his head snapped to look to the other side of the bed. His breath hitched. She wasn't there. Y/N was just lying with him when they went to bed. He looked at the bedside clock. Which by reading the time, 4:01 AM, they went to bed six hours ago.

Ronald looked back down to the empty left side of the bed. The imprint of her body on the mattress and sheets and the mark of her head was still on the pillow. She couldn't of gotten up to long ago, which meant she didn't go far. The male let out a sigh of relief as he wiped the sweat from his forehead and ran a hand through his hand. Throwing the blankets off of his legs, and swinging them over to the side of the bed. Digging his toes into the carpet, tilting his head up as he realized his feet were on carpet instead of forest ground. With a heavy sigh, he stood up, making his towards the kitchen in search for Y/N.

He could hear her soft hums and mumbled singing as he walked down the small hallways that led to the kitchen. Ronald stood in the doorway of the kitchen and leaned against it. There Y/N stood trying to reach for the jar of coffee that was on the top shelf. A hand on her abdomen as the shirt, which was Ronald's, lifted up as she reached. Revealing the whit bandages wrapped around her stomach. Ronald's eyes shifted down to the bandages and her hand that stayed on her stomach. A frown went to his lips. He stood up straight as Y/N turned around. Pulling the shirt down over her stomach, carefully not to tug on any of the bandages connected to her body. She smiled up at her boyfriend as she walked over.

"Hey Ron, what are you doing up? It's like four in the morning," she asked, wrapping her arms around his stomach. He chuckled slightly and kissed the top of her head, wrapping an arm around her waist. The feeling of the bandages underneath the shirt she was wearing reminded him of the nightmare that he just had.

"I could ask you the same thing sweetheart," he hummed, yawning slightly. Y/N smirked up at him and chuckled.

"Well, I asked you first," Ron nodded, but looked away. Not wanting to admit the reason he was up. His cheeks reddened as he stared around the kitchen. Anywhere but her practically. Y/N noticed the behavior and quickly understood. Of course, this wasn't the first nightmare he had and was embarrassed to talk about it. She grabbed his chin gently and pulled him down to look at him. Raising a brow. "Come on, Ronald Speirs. Spill. You know you can’t keep everything bottles up," she ordered. Ronald couldn't form any words. This time, the nightmare was so real. And it hurt so bad. What Y/N said sounded so real, and felt like a stab into his lungs just to hear it.

"You were there, and.... and we were in the woods. Then, you started running and I followed you. There... There was a cliff and you were standing on it. You were shot and.. and blood was everywhere," this was the first time Ronald actually broke down a nightmare to Y/N. His face was filled with fear. His eyes laced with sadness and just fright. His bottom lip began to quiver. He broke right in front of his love. Tonight was his breaking point. "I should've been there when you got hit. If I was quicker you wouldn't have been shot. You almost died. You almost died in my arms, Y/N!" he shouted, placing his hands over his eyes. Tears pooled out of them and his voice cracked. The only words she spoke in the dream just kept repeating themselves around her mind.

"You said you'd always be there for me... so how did this happen? Why weren't you there?"

Sobs rolled out of his lips as he pressed his back against the wall. It was all his fault, wasn't it? Maybe if he ran a bit faster. Maybe if he didn't tell her to help Liebgott in retrieving some papers from Winters. Maybe if he was just there for her, she wouldn't have gotten shot. He shattered, tears pouring down his cheeks while small sobs left his lips. Tugging at his brown hair. Leaving him whimpering. It broke Y/N's heart seeing him like this. Never in a million years would she think that her Ronald Speirs, a legend in the Paratrooper companies they were in for his murderous rumors and stern and scary personality. He was different when it came to Y/N, but crying in front of her. Scratch that. Sobbing in front of her, was something she was shocked with. She knew that it wasn't his fault for being shot. Sure, it hurt like a mother fucker. And yeah she was still healing from it. But it wasn't anyone's fault. She was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. And she ended up living.

Y/N bent down and stood him up straight. "Ronald Speirs," she spoke, pulling his hands out from his eyes and onto her hips. Small hiccups escaped his lips, his bangs falling into his eyes. She brought her thumbs up to wipe the tears that were streaming down his cheeks. "You didn't get me shot. It was no ones fault except the Kraut that shot me. More importantly, Ron. I lived. I'm here with you. And that is all that matters," Y/N tried to reassure. Ron just averted eye contact trying to control his tears and emotions. 'Come on Ronald, you are better than this! Don't act like a fucking baby in front of your fucking girl! Toughen up!' He thought to himself as he took a deep breath. Getting his tears to stop so he could actually look into Y/N's eyes.

No words left his mouth, he just wrapped his arms around the female's torso. Making sure not to touch, pull, or squeeze any areas with bandages. Craning his neck and back so he was burying himself into her. Melted at her touch like ice to a flame. His body shook as Y.n slowly went and put a hand to his back and one to the back of his head. Rubbing his back and running her fingers through his loose hair. "I promised I would be there for you. Always," he mumbled against the skin of her neck. Y/N chuckled sadly. As she placed small kisses on his neck.

"Oh, Ron. You were there. You were the first one to find me on the ground. You were the one to call for Doc Roe. You came with me when on the way to the closest hospital, all the way until they told you you couldn't go into the shock room with me. Without you do those things Ronald, I would've died. If you weren't as quick as you were getting to me. I wouldn't be here today. You saved my life and fulfilled your promise. Now I have to do the same for you," Y/N spoke softly as she pulled herself away from the shattered male, looking deep into his eyes. Ronald took her words into deep consideration. Maybe he did save her life. Maybe he was there. Maybe it wasn't his fault. "It wasn't your fault that I got shot, Ron," she said again. Standing on her tip toes, she pressed her lips to his. The stubble on his face tickling hers. She giggled against his kiss. Ronald leaned against her and pulled her closer.

Y/N pulled away and smiled up at him. "Feel better?" she asked nicely. With one more peck on the lips he looked down her and sighed. Nodding softly. Feeling the edge, sadness, and anxiety that the nightmare caused right away. Melting into a more relaxed and tired state.

"Yes, doll. I guess so," he hummed as he swayed her slightly in his arms. Y/N smiled up at him cupped his face. Squishing his cheeks slightly. "Wanna go make out in bed for a while then go back to bed, sleep in and then go out to breakfast?" Y/N smiled up, giving a puppy dog face that Ronald could never refuse. He chuckled and nodded. She giggled happily, jumping up as wrapping her legs around the lanky man's waist.

"Only if we cuddle afterwards," Ronald spoke, placing his hands under her thighs to support her. Y/N pecked his lips.

"Of course! What kind of question is that?" she scoffed jokingly. Ronald chuckled and licked his bottom lip.

"Yeah yeah, just hush up and kiss me, doll," Y/N gladly cupped his face and pecked his lips once before pulling away.

"Yes, Captain," and off he went. Carrying her. He knew he would do anything for this girl. No matter what. And having her just be in his presence, knowing that she was his, was enough for Ronald Speirs. He was a simple man with a simple life. But had an extraordinary woman that was his entire world.

#band of brothers imagine #band of brothers #ronald speirs x reader #ronald speirs imagine #ronald speirs #imagines #IFUCKINGLOVEHIM #bob imagine #imagine #hbo #hbo war #hbo war imagine #hbo war imagines #hbo series #hbo imagine

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babbushka · 5 years ago

Text

Each Eye (6/8)

Kylo was the most feared boss in the entirety of New York City. They said that the crime families were no more, that they had disappeared with the end of an era. You knew it wasn’t true, you saw first hand. The families didn’t disappear, they simply went underground, adapted.

Lucky for you, your man, and your family, no one could ever get rid of crime. Not really.

Mob!Kylo Ren x Reader

5.6k; NSFW

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

When he returned to you, he was bloody. Covered in it, the mess. He’s silent as he moved through the apartment, as if to not wake you, as if you weren’t already awake. You’re sitting on the big grey couch, wrapped up in your robe, concerned. You knew, you knew he was capable, but there’s something in the wait his gait is slowed slightly that made you anxious.

“Did you have fun?” You asked him, and he nodded with a sigh, one hand pressed to his side.

You reached out for him, and he without any hesitation removed the bloody palm from his waist, linked the fingers through yours.

You led him through the apartment, and he’s careful not to track blood on the carpeting as you go into the bathroom.

He’s not in the mood to talk, you could tell. But that was okay, he didn’t have to. He’s out of it, but that’s okay too, all he needs is a bath and some sleep. Normally you’d corral him into the shower, but there’s something in the weight of his shoulders that seemed to you like he was in need of a good soak.

So, while you instructed him wordlessly to strip, you dumped salts and oils into the grand tub and went to the linens closet for rags that you could use to soak up and scrub away the evidence of this night.

“Show me?” You asked, sitting on the edge of the tub as it filled with hot water.

He’s naked before you, and he stepped in between your legs just as you told him. He’s exhausted, and you gave him a small loving smile as your hands smooth up the muscles of his strong thighs. He’s been stabbed, right in the abdomen, just below his belly button. You sucked in a deep breath and hummed out the exhale, dipping the wash cloth into the soapy water, ringing it out.

“This might sting.” You said softly, and he nodded, hands flexing and clenching into fists at his sides.

Other than those small movements, he didn’t show any sign of being in too much discomfort as you cleaned his wound. Although, you reasoned, nothing could really be more uncomfortable than being stabbed in the first place. The blood around the wound had dried and crusted, coagulated and already begun to heal. It wasn’t a deep cut, not a deep wound, thank goodness. Maybe only an inch or so in, nothing important compromised.

Still, an inch was deep enough for stitches, and you pointed to the medicine cabinet on the other side of the bathroom.

He knew exactly what you wanted, and he grabbed it with ease, the suture kit resting where it always did, on the top shelf. He handed it to you and watched you as you got to work.

You didn’t know, at this point, how many times you’d stitched him up. You were no medical student, no doctor, not by any means. You thought back to that very first time, the very first evening you had tried to save him, had tried so desperately to get his bleeding face to close. You hadn’t been very good then, hands shaking as tears blurred your vision, your resolve nearly cracked and broken, nearly shattered into nothingness, as evidence in his flesh from the mangled scar that splits all the way down to his throat.

You hadn’t been very good, but you had been good enough.

Now though, now you feel like you could do this blindfolded, the small seam of his wound closing evenly. He’d scar of course, but nothing like the gnarled mess that was the one on his face. You applied bandages on top of it with steady hands, waterproofed the area on his abdomen with a special patch that allowed him to happily sigh as he sunk into the tub.

Almost immediately, the water ran a sick pink, and your stomach churned because you knew that this time it was his.

You never had a problem with blood, not once. Not unless it was his.

You sat on the edge, carefully poured a cup of the water over his hair, red rivulets streaming from his handsome locks.

“Who did it?” You asked, because you had to know.

Kylo only sighed again, gestured to his pants that lay in a heap on the floor. You nudged the pants over to you with your foot, not wanting to get them stained with any more blood than they already were. The cleaners were going to have a field day with this one, you thought. The splatters which sprayed all across the soft fabric would no doubt be impossible to get out.

In the pocket was his little prize for you, his little trinket he brought back. He always brought something back for you, your man did.

Your eyes widened at the sight of it, the small golden ring. You could recognize that symbol anywhere, that imagery. You turned to him, and he only nodded, asked for your hand with his own. You gave it to him, and he slipped the ring on your middle finger. You already wore a ring there, you already wore a ring on all your fingers. But this one, this gift was no simple band, this one was ornate enough to win a spot on your hand, a display of your prize, of Kylo’s kill.

“We’re really in it now, aren’t we?” You asked, and he only leaned his head back against the tub, only sank down enough to blow bubbles in the frothy pink bloody suds that pooled around his chest.

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

He adored you, you knew. Worshipped the ground you walked on. He’s killed for you, would kill again for you, if only you said the word.

And you do, sometimes. When you’re in the mood, when you’re feeling scorned enough, when you’re feeling burned enough, when you’re feeling ruthless enough. You do.

But on the whole, Kylo had so much energy, so much pent up aggression he harbored inside his chest, that he doesn’t know what to do with; he doesn’t know what to do with it, so he spent it all on you. Better that, than killing. There’s no body count attached to his riches.

Well, not directly, anyway.

He decorated you with the finest things, cloaked you in nothing but luxury, ensured your appearance is exactly how you want it, exactly up to the standards you demand. And though you were no kept woman, not by any means, you wore the gifts happily, wore them eagerly, wore them with pride.

You had your favorites, because of course you did. It’s the jewelry, anyone who knew you would know, anyone who took one look at you would know how much you love jewelry. You’re adorned in gold from your head to your feet. The furs and the shoes and the bags and the stuff was all nice, but you really loved the jewelry.

Your ears sported diamonds encrusted into heavy thick karats, your neck a display of wealth all on its own. From the weight of your Magen David in solid gold, to the pretty braided chains which glinted in the light, you sparkled everywhere you walk. Your wrists were never bare, an elegant watch worth more than some apartments on the lower east side forever clasped around your pulse.

Not that you needed it of course, when Kylo was the one frequently checking the time.

He kissed them, all of them, each chain and pendant and diamond, each strand of gold spun across your body. He lavished the attention on them, on you, in the early light of dawn. It was five in the morning, as it always was when he wakes you, but this time he didn’t wake you with his hands sprawling across your body in that hungry hungry hungry way of his – no, he is far more careful with you, far more slow.

Purposeful.

You wondered if it was because of everything that was going on, everything that was going to happen.

“Kylo,” You whispered, stretching out the sleep from your calves as he brought his lips down like a soft rain across your skin, peppered kisses in his wake.

“Hmm?” He hummed into the spot below your ear, worrying your gold chain between his teeth.

At least he’s talking now, you thought to yourself, as your hands carded through his hair. It’s soft now that it’s clean, you smiled to yourself. Smiled only because somehow, somehow he always returned to this, to this handsome, strong, capable man. No matter how ragged he looked when he showed up after a job, no matter how out of it he had gotten in all the killing, he woke up to kiss you and be soft and sweet against your skin.

It was a shame that the only times he ever felt comfortable enough to be so soft, was the early dawn of twilight, was when he was in bed with you. It’s a shame you’d have to interrupt this morning ritual of his, this daily routine of how he worships your body.

“I have something we need to talk about.” You knew there was never going to be a good time for this, never going to be the right time.

But he was in a good mood, in a decent mood, anyway, lost in the touch smell sight of you. He sucked in a sharp breath and sank his teeth down into the crook where your shoulder met your neck, making you sigh out a happy little gasp of pleasure.

“Right now?” He grumbled, removing his face from your throat and lifting your hands to his lips.

You are covered in jewelry all over, but especially on your fingers. How could one forget to mention the way you have a ring on each one, bands snugly fit, perfectly fit, around all ten fingers. Not all of them had been gifts from Kylo, contrary to popular belief. Some had come from your family, before you were Mrs. Ren, before you were anyone’s wife. Back when you were simply a beloved daughter of one of the largest crime families in New York, back when you were the ultimate mob princess, you wore some of these rings.

Among these are the signet ring which bore your maiden crest, it lived forever on your pinky. A second signet, one that bore your husband’s name, lived on your second pinky.

Kylo kissed them both.

The new one, he didn’t.

“It’s about Rey.” You answered him, as he pressed a respectful kiss to your ring, the whole thing very on brand, when you thought about it.

Kylo liked to say that the old way of doing things was dead, that the old way of the mob was over. But sometimes, sometimes glimmers of the world which your husband so idolized shone through, in small gestures, small acts like this.

He kissed the wedding band, the engagement ring, the decorative and sentimental rings that were warm from your sleep, pressed your palms to the sides of his cheeks and kissed them too.

“I know.” He admitted, making you raise an eyebrow in mild surprise, when he said, “I know she’s lying.”

“You do?” You asked, wondering why he held that to himself, why he wouldn’t have gone out then and there to cut out her tongue, to shut her up. You wondered if he’s planning on it, if he’s waiting for you to give him the permission to do it.

He didn’t need your permission, not really, not technically.

But he’d never do anything without it.

He’s nodding, and your hands smoothed back into his hair once again, scratched gently at his scalp in that way that has him shuddering, has him melting into your embrace, practically purring against you as he kisses you deep.

“I recognized the look in your eye.” He said, and you smiled at that, at how he knew not because of his sister’s own actions, but because of yours. He’s not smiling, however, when he regarded you with cross-eyed vision from being so close, foreheads pressed together when he asked, “What are we going to do about her?”

“I haven’t decided yet. I’m meeting with her for brunch. You’re technically not invited.” You sighed, as Kylo rolled you both over, so that he could cradle your skull against his chest, so you could relax against the breadth of his body.

“Technically?” He asked, and your smile when you look up at him tells him everything he needs to know.

“Technically.” You winked, and he’s already preparing for a long fucking day.

“I’m hungry now.” He hummed, licking his lips, heat in his eyes as his pupils widened.

Knowing what he wanted, you’re more than happy to oblige, more than happy, eager. Your hips open up as your legs spread for him, and he took in a deep pleased breath as he shuffled his way down, kissed his way down your body.

You’re wet for him, body automatically craving him. Your hands cupped his shoulders, those strong broad muscles, tips of your fingers digging into the meat as he pried your legs farther, just far enough to wrap his huge arms around your thighs.

He nuzzled his face into your pussy, kissing and licking all the skin, all the flesh he could. His tongue parted your folds with ease, and he pressed his nose right up against your clit, right away, making you chuckle out a moan, a soft little gasp that only spurred him on.

“Oh Kylo,” You bit at your lips, arched your back for him, “You’re so – yes! – good.”

It was impossible, to gauge how long his tongue was, sometimes. Sometimes it felt as thick and heavy as his cock when he fucked you, sometimes it felt broad and wide, you could never tell. All you knew was he sucked and wriggled his way as far into your cunt as he could, thrusted his tongue deep into you, lapped up your slick and your juices like he was a man dying of thirst. Your hips bucked up against his face in little desperate motions you had no control over, your body just as hungry for the pleasure he gives you as he is of your taste.

And taste you he did, he ran his tongue over and over and over your folds, scooped up all the wetness he could with the curl of his tongue, that very same curl which echoed your toes as your feet rubbed against his sides, tangled in the soft sheets.

“Mmm,” He coaxed an orgasm out of you, just by sheer pressure of his nose on your clit and his tongue dragging against your gspot.

But he wouldn’t be satisfied with just one, of course he wouldn’t. You were surprised he didn’t want to fuck you right away, didn’t want to come in you. Maybe he would, after he got his fill of turning you into a pliant trembling mess. You were already well on your way for that, a gentle warmth like liquid gold sloshing around in your veins as he pulled himself back up the bed, hand cupping your cunt.

“Where?” He asked, slipping two fingers up into you, making your head loll to the side on your pillow, making it roll towards him so he could kiss the moan off your lips as he fingered you.

“The Baccarat.” You gasped out, “We’re going for tea.”

He rolled his eyes, before pushing your head to the other side so he could sink his teeth into your throat, mark you up in that way of his that was too possessive and controlling. It made you moan.

“Why am I not surprised?” He muttered, adding a third finger into the mix and crooking them inside you, stroking the walls of your cunt as you whimpered and whined, wanting more friction.

“She – honey,” You tried, but moaned instead, sentence choked off. It was getting harder and harder to talk, especially when all you wanted was to beg to be fucked. “We need her to be comfortable, because otherwise she won’t talk.” You managed, and you could feel his expression, could feel the eyebrow raised against your neck.

“Is that what this is? You’re going to get her to talk?” He asked, smirking against you as your back arched some more, toes curling in the sheets, knees wanting to close in around his hand.

“Yes! I mean – oh fuck honey – I mean,” You whined, pressing your chest out, luring him in between your tits, “I’m going to get her to confess.”

Kylo took the bait, nuzzled his face into your cleavage, his thumb swirling little zig zags over your clit. His three fingers slowly thrust in and out of you as he bit at the flesh of your breasts, as he sucked on your nipple. You felt like you were on fire, tingling all over, and your mind was hazy, so hazy.

“You’re good at that.” Kylo said, and for a minute you didn’t even know what he was talking about.

“I’m good at a lot of things.” You replied with a smile, as he withdrew his fingers and wiped them on your hip in a way that made your nose crinkle.

“Hmm, are you?” He asked, dragging your hips down the bed enough to prop them up and slide his big cock in, now that you were properly stretched and warm and melting in a puddle of sex and lust and love. He bottomed out easily, his breathing heavy in your ears. He was so chatty today, in such a good mood today, you couldn’t help but think to yourself as he pushed all your thoughts out of your ears like mush.

“Watch it.” You tugged on his ear with a pleasure weak hand, before his hips began to move and all you could really come up with was, “Yes! Yes, thank you.”

He fucked you until the sun began to peek up over the city skyline, until the sound of traffic competed with the sound of his grunts loud in your ear. He moaned your name, over and over again, a prayer dripping from his lips as he nosed at your cheek, as he bruised the corner of your mouth with his tongue.

He was so attentive, so caring, so good to you, and you told him so.

“Handsome,” You purred, your pussy clenching down hard around him in an effort to make him keen, “My handsome man, look at how perfect you fill me. Do you feel that? Feel what you do to me?”

“Fuck, (Y/N), please – I – ” It’s his turn now, his turn to be overwhelmed with the feeling of you consuming him. Your cunt sucking him up into your body, your hands scratching bleeding marks, stripes of your nails down his back.

You marked his throat up in just the same manner as he had done yours, lips and teeth worrying the flesh there, declarations of ownership. Every part of you belonged to him wholeheartedly – but every part of him was yours just as equally.

“I love fucking you.” He grunted out, a rare display, “I love this pussy, fuck, you’re mine.”

“Come in me, please?” You encouraged, gave him the permission he needs, the praise he craved, a fist tight in his hair as you licked up his pule, licked up the sweat that’s begun to bead against his skin. He’s salty and musky, and tasted like sex, tasted like you. “Please, Kylo?”

He growled, his hips thrusting erratically until they’re not thrusting at all, until he’s just pushing you up up up the bed, up as far as he can get his cock into you. You squeezed his cock with your cunt, milked him for everything he’s worth, as he dropped himself down onto your chest. Your hands slipped over his back, smeared the sweat around as his hips rolled, ground against yours.

“(Y/N),” he still begged, still somehow ached for more, even as you could feel his come spreading inside you, could feel it coating your insides, painting every inch of you.

“Take what you need.” You whispered; voice hoarse as you combed your fingers gently through his hair.

He nodded, tears in his eyes from being so stimulated, muscles on fire as he fucked you through his orgasm, drool and spit stringing from his lips, his tongue as he wrapped his lips around one of your stiff nipples.

“Honey -- !” You hummed, drunk on him.

You came from that, from the feeling of his huge dick pushing his come in and out of you, from the way he rubbed right up against your gspot over and over again, from the way he tugged and sucked at your tits.

Pushing yourself as close to him as possible, your pleasure weak bodies rolled to the side, legs tucked around one another to keep his cock inside you still, inside you for as long as it would take before he softened, before the sweat began to cool and itch, before all his come and your come would begin to leak out of you and soil the sheets.

A crack of sunlight from between the curtains fell across his face. His eyes were so brown, you thought happily. So handsome and deep and dark and mysterious – except not really mysterious, not to you. He blinked at you, content. You smiled at him, lifted a hand to smooth back his hair. He didn’t smile back, but that was okay, smiles weren’t something that came easy to Kylo.

He wound his arms around you, big palms warm and clammy on your bare back, and he shuddered a little, the cool air of morning and the last of his pleasure sliding across his body.

“I want to go in with you.” He said, voice low, deep.

You smiled, cupped his cheeks in your hands and brought him in for a kiss, one that he’s so eager to meet that he accidentally clacked your teeth together for.

“You can’t.” You told him, remembering the promise you had made to Rey.

You at the very least, kept your promises.

Kylo knew this, and he grumbled about it, grumbled and muttered as one of his hands slid around to the star that rested against your chest, the pretty gold pendant that was warm and fogged up from the steam between your bodies.

“I know, but I want to.” He said, deadly serious, even in the playful atmosphere of your post-sex glow. “Are you going to record her?” He asked, nudging the underside of your chin so your head could tip back, so he could softly kiss at your pulse, so he could soothe the angry marks he littered there.

“She’s not stupid, she’ll know that something’s up if I have the phone right there on the table and I don’t touch it at all.” You hummed, cradling the back of his head as he smeared his love against your skin.

“Take my phone.” He suggested, pulling away just long enough to reach across the big bed and grab at his phone, handing it to you even though you wouldn’t have to leave for a good couple hours. “Put it on airplane mode so no one bothers you and leave it in your purse. That way you can have yours to scroll through and it won’t be so suspicious. I’ll be watching from the other side of the street in case there’s trouble.”

You grinned, it was a good idea. You could have the purse right in your lap, or even better, on the side of the table so it would be between the two of you during lunch. You didn’t really like the thought of not being able to communicate with Kylo, but if he was watching you like a hawk then it didn’t really matter too much, you reasoned.

“Do you think she’s running business behind my back?” Kylo asked, deadly deathly serious, so serious that it reminded you of why you were the one meeting with Rey today, and not him. “Tell me honestly.”

“Honestly? No, I don’t think she’s capable of it.” You said, “But that doesn’t mean I don’t think she’s incapable of anything.”

The sun began to rise more fully, and that crack of light broadened into a thick beam that illuminated the scarred side of your husband’s face. He really was so handsome, you thought, with his dark hair splayed out on the pillow like that, his features so strong, so striking.

Sometimes, if you looked too long at Kylo, at his scar, you remember that night. You remember the agony, the heartbreak, the terror of him bleeding out and dying on your floor in the bathroom. You remembered the taste of blood and iron and copper, remembered the tears and the decay and the fury, blind fury that coursed through your veins as you begged and pleaded for the universe to spare him, to keep him with you.

Sometimes, if you looked too long at Kylo, you remembered why he had the scar in the first place. You remembered the murder, how his father still laid at the bottom of a river only you knew, the bottom of a chasm where he was no doubt eaten away, washed away by his own misfortune and poor luck, his own poor choices. You remembered the withered old man who had ordered the domino to drop, the catalyst to form, the chain reaction to take place.

Sometimes, if you looked too long at Kylo, you remembered what you did to him, to Snoke.

But you’re looking at Kylo, and Kylo was looking at you, and for now, the only thoughts in your head were of how pleased you felt, how warm and relaxed, in his embrace.

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

You got there early, of course.

Dressed to the absolute nines, from your head down to your toes, you sat in a plush arm chair against the window, an interesting glass texture providing some privacy from the onlookers on the street as they walked past. Still, through the window you saw the shape of the cars parked across the street.

Kylo was in one, one of the older cars that you didn’t take out too often so it wouldn’t be so suspicious, and then the car Dopheld had parked. Normally you felt quite bad, just having the driver sitting around and waiting for you, normally you told him to go do whatever it was he wanted to pass the time. He certainly had the funds to shop if he wanted, or to grab a bite to eat where he felt in the mood. But he had insisted on staying right outside, so that’s where he was.

The Baccarat was a charming little hotel, you thought as you waited, posture relaxed but not too relaxed, alert yet not overly stiff. You had a clipping from the morning’s newspaper in your lap resting against one of your thighs where your legs were one over the over, a pen in hand as you went down and across the little checkerboard of clues.

The tea room was very different from the one at the Plaza, not that that was a bad thing. It had an air of looking almost like a high end salon, or like a lobby, not at all like a restaurant. The walls were a champagne pink color, and there were no real tables, rather plush armchairs with circular coffee tables to provide an atmosphere of a more intimate relaxed brunch. The chandeliers were clean and the light reflected nicely off the many crystal vases that decorated the place. You thought there should be something in those vases, like fresh flowers, or any sign or live plants for that matter, but you didn’t care too much.

You did however, take notice of the strange shelving units made of polished silver metal, which housed all sorts of nick-knacks that you assumed were meant to populate the area with visual interest. You weren’t sure how you felt about it all, and returned your attention to the task in your lap, as you waited for Rey to show up.

When she finally did, you were nearly done with the puzzle before you. The click of her heels on the chevron wood flooring was well timed, you thought, as the armchair across from you pulled out and your sister in law sat down.

“Do you like crosswords?” You asked by way of greeting, circling the final clue and folding the piece of newspaper up.

“Am I late?” Rey asked, just a little too shy of defensive.

“Hm?” You replied, finally looking up at her and giving her a warm smile, “No, no you’re right on time.”

Rey fixed her hair and pushed her seat closer to the little coffee table, took a deep breath and looked out the window, only to find the sight of the street blurred and obscured by the wavy glass.

“There was traffic.” She said, her shoulders too square.

“There’s always traffic.” You replied, echoing something she herself had snapped at your husband, only a couple days ago.

How strange, that the dinner was only a couple days ago? That it hadn’t barely been a week since this shitshow had started. It never ceased to amaze you, the irony of the universe. Some months there was nothing of any interest happening, no drama, no scandals – just the work. But some months, some months it felt like there was a new crisis every day.

You wondered if there’d be one today too.

“Do you?” You asked, because Rey still hadn’t answered your question, and you were genuinely curious about the answer.

“Do I what?” Rey asked, too wrapped up in her own mind to know what you meant.

“Like them, crosswords.” You clarified, already watching her, already reading her.

“Sometimes.” She admitted, and you smiled, pleased that your dramatic little exit plan could be executed.

“I tend to do them in the mornings over coffee, but I figured why not pull out one for brunch while I waited.” You smiled, tried your best to be warm, even when you felt no such affection for her.

Rey looked around at the hotel tea room, gestured to the waiter to get their attention. They gave you both a nod, and began wrapping up whatever it was they were saying to one of the other guests who sat across the room at a different set of arm chairs and table.

“Were you waiting long?” Rey worried, and you shook your head, waved her off.

She was so tense.

“No not at all, I just wanted to ensure we got a table.” You explained, making room for the waiter who had just arrived at your table, to place down clean plates and polished silverware, to hand you both menus. “I’m particular about where I like to sit.”

You smiled at the nice waiter, and they left you alone to glance through the different teas and offerings that they served.

“Understandable.” Rey said, looking through the menu herself, which you thought was kind of funny considering she frequents the place. “Do you come here often, to the Baccarat?”

“Not nearly as much as I would like! We tend to favor tea at the Plaza, since Gwen lives there and everything. I think I can count on one hand the amount of times that I’ve been here.” You put the menu down, and folded the white linen napkin in your lap, an action which Rey mirrored automatically.

“Gwen likes the Plaza better too, but it’s hard getting her out of the apartment sometimes, so I ask to come here. Nice change of scenery.” She said, a fond smile gracing her lips.

You felt bad, because no doubt after today, after this week, after all this was over, she wouldn’t be seeing Gwen again.

“Definitely a change of scenery, and their menu is just as varied. I already know what I’m ordering.” You tried to keep the conversation light, tried keeping her as comfortable as possible before all the questions began. Because they would begin, once you both had some tea in your bodies, some sandwiches in your hand.

Tea and sandwiches made everything much easier, you found.

“And what might that be?” Rey asked.

“I was hoping you’d indulge me in sharing the Sultan Abdulaziz.” You smiled, and there was a look of shock on her face for all of a moment before she schooled her expression into something more controlled.

“That’s what I prefer to order, you’re in luck.” She said, and you resisted the urge to bite out an, I know.

“Oh, am I?” You teased, the playful tone in your voice calming her a little, her shoulders softening into the back of the armchair, “Well I’m glad that worked out.”

And as you gave her a smile, and she smiled back, you couldn’t help but think to yourself that she didn’t know what the hell she was in for.

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

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miss1extinct · 3 years ago

Text

My First Novel!

Hey guys! This is my first post here and I’m posting the first chapter of my novel as a little teaser to advertise. If this interests you, contact me and I’ll send you the link to read more!

"And here is the break room." Mr. Lenich turned the corner, and I followed close behind. I found that my supervisor took another left, entering into a relatively large room. The doorway was large, twice the size of the average entrance. The flooring and paint on the walls were the same as in the hallway and every other room I had been in thus far - extensive black tiling and eggshell white paint. The room had several tables and chairs scattered about, most with workers enjoying their lunch breaks. I was taken aback by the amount of vending machines covering the break room's back wall: one water dispenser, a machine for an assortment of both regular and diet sodas, two for all sorts of chip varieties, one for several different types of candies, and finally one vending machine for a dozen brands of salty snacks and goods.

As soon as we stepped into the breakroom, I could hear multiple workers begin to whisper but could not comprehend more than a few words: the new girl, professional, only twenty-two, Laine, proud.

Although I couldn't, Mr. Lenich seemed to understand every word the workers were saying. "I believe your reputation precedes you, Miss Nichol."

"I have no idea what you mean by that, sir."

"Oh, come on, Miss Nichol. Mr. Lenich put a hand on my shoulder, pulling me closer despite my discomfort. "You shouldn't have to be modest when you're with your people, your fellow gamers! First, everyone here looked up to your father, and now we all look up to you, myself included."

"Please don't bring up my father, sir." It was all that I could think of saying. It had already been seven years since my father had passed, but I still didn't like to talk about the event, still refused to accept the fact that my best friend was forever gone. I chose to ignore the fact that I would never again see my closest companion, never again have a conversation with him.

I wiped a tear from my eye and smiled at my new coworkers sitting in front of me. Mr. Lenich was right; this wasn't high school where I would be bullied for being a female gamer. This wasn't college where I was ridiculed for being the only girl pursuing an education and career in programming. This was my job - Byte's Incorporated - where I could embrace my online persona. This was a safe place for me where everyone respected my reputation. Here, I could finally be myself without any repercussions - a professional, award-winning female gamer, the proven best in my state. In June, I was competing against forty-nine others, one from each state other than my own, to decide who is the best in the country.

"If you don't mind, Miss Nichol, our next stop on tour is right over here." Mr. Lenich smiled and turned towards the doorway, motioning me into the hallway.

"Okay." I waved goodbye to my coworkers in the break room before stepping out into the hallway. I followed Mr. Lenich down the hallway. After a few seconds of walking, Mr. Lenich unlocked a door on the left titled "Chief Executive Officer, Founder Laine Landborn." I couldn't believe it; was Mr. Lenich really going to show me the company's CEO and founder's office? Was I really about to meet my idol, the man second only to my late father, Laine Landborn?

"This is the office of the main boss, Mr. Laine Landborn. Unfortunately, we aren't allowed to actually go inside right now as he's not here at the moment..."

Not here?

"...so you'll have to wait until later to meet him. Normally, employees don't get to meet the CEO on their first day. Still, Mr. Landborn always makes it a point to personally know his company's line of beta-testers."

"Personally?" I looked up at Mr. Lenich with a hopeful face. I then looked into the CEO'S office. Mr. Landborn's desk was surprisingly clean and tidy - in one corner was a flower pot holding a bouquet of several crimson red tiger lilies. On the opposite end of the desk was a stack of multiple brightly coloured folders and white binders. A window directly behind his desk, covered in transparent black curtains with a bookcase on either side. The left bookcase held all different kinds of video games and small consoles. The right bookcase contained several other black binders and books. In front of Landborn's desk was a thin dark red carpet - as red as blood - with two stationary black cushioned chairs facing the desk.

"And now to our last stop on the great Byte tour." Mr. Lenich gently moved me back a couple steps and shut the door. He locked the door back and moved to the door directly across from the CEO's office, this door titled "Beta-Testing Room 1". "This will be where you'll work during your time here with us. Now, fun fact: this was the room where Laine Landborn himself worked during his first two years of this company's life, and no one else has worked in this room in the fifteen years since. So you'll be the first."

"Really?" I smiled as I excitedly stepped into the beta-testing room, looking around with absolute wonder. It was unbelievable to think that I would be working in the same room that Byte's CEO used to work in. Suddenly, my mind was overflowing with thoughts: was this the same couch that Landborn used to sit on? Did the consoles I saw in his office used to be in here? The room where I would now spend eight hours of my day was the same room where the Laine Landborn used to spend his time.

"Yes, really." Mr. Lenich chuckled and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "If you'll excuse me, I need to quickly run to the bathroom. Get yourself settled in, and I'll be back in a few minutes to show you out."

"Okay." I watched Mr. Lenich walk down the hallway to the restrooms. I took a deep breath and sat down on the white couch. It was of modern style, and both it and its small black pillows were extremely comfortable - once I sat down, I never wanted to stand up again. I pulled off my white cushioned tennis shoes. I brought my feet up onto the couch beside me, knocking down one of the pillows accidentally. I leaned over to prop it back up. I discovered that behind the pillow hid a small splatter of mysterious red liquid, almost black with age - a discovery that made me freeze. My mind raced with possibilities. It's probably just a drink Landborn spilled, or possibly makeup from his wife. Or maybe even... my paranoia made me sick, and I quickly repositioned the pillow in its proper place. I took a deep breath in preparation and picked up the other two cushions. Behind one, the one farthest from the first, was no stain. The cushion was perfectly clean and white. However, the pillow closest to the first, was a more prominent red stain, double the first size, and darkened with age. I gasped and quickly dropped both pillows onto the floor, backing away and tripping over my shoes. I gasped again and yelled out as I hit my head on the floor. It was a soft carpet, but it felt as if there was hardwood or even concrete underneath. My hand shot up to the back of my head. I pushed my white hair out of my face while fighting against the vomit rising in my throat.

I rushed to my feet, the speed almost making me fall back down again. I shoved one shoe onto my foot and went to put on the other but stopped when I heard the door open. "Mr. Lenich?" I asked as I looked up, still holding onto the coffee table for support with my foot in the air, my shoe halfway on.

"So Jeremiah was the one that told you to work in here." When I looked up at the door, Mr. Lenich wasn't the man I saw standing in the doorway - it was the founder and chief executive officer of Byte's Incorporated, Laine Landborn. "How many times now have I told him and everyone else to stay clear of this room? Five times now? About to become six?"

"I'm not supposed to be here?" I asked as I finished putting on my shoe. I looked up at Landborn and tried my best to stay calm. Half of me wanted to be excited - Laine Landborn was standing right in front of me! The other half of me, the sane half of me, wanted to run away, to get as far away from here as I possibly could. I had just found some very suspicious stains on the couch that used to belong to the very man now staring down at me, walking closer to me with every passing second. Before I knew it, I was looking up at Laine Landborn, and my heart was racing.

"What is your name, miss?"

"Hannah Nichol..." I replied reluctantly, not sure if I wanted this man to know my name at all. What other information could he find out about me? What would he do with that information?

"Well, Hannah Nichol," Landborn talked as his gaze also shifted towards the couch. My pulse struck an all-time high as I watched his expression fall, his jaw tighten. "I believe I have something to show you."

"Okay..." I swallowed hard and followed behind Landborn out into the hallway.

"One moment." Once in the hall, Landborn pulled out a set of keys and locked the door we had just walked out of. As Landborn began walking, Mr. Lenich turned the corner and froze once he saw Landborn. Landborn turned to Mr. Lenich and held out his hand, palm up. "Have another key made for this room again, and you're fired."

Mr. Lenich swallowed hard and nodded, taking out his own set of keys. He removed one key from the ring and placed it in Landborn's hand. "Yes, sir. It won't happen again."

"Now, Hannah," Landborn smiled and resumed walking. "Right this way."

I took one last look at Mr. Lenich and took a deep breath before following Landborn. For some reason, we only went across the hall... which was the office of Laine Landborn.

"Step inside, please," Landborn said with a smile as he opened the door. I swallowed hard and stepped inside, my chest feeling as if it was about to explode. "This will only take a moment," Landborn said as he closed the door behind us both, locking and shutting it tight.

#book novel books novels author newauthor newnovel newbook writing teaser trailer #wattpad

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hopetofantasy · 4 years ago

Text

‘Wandering Romance’ - Part 4

- A future with child fic -

Square Filled: Future, Family, Past lovers Ship: Sander Driesen/Robbe Ijzermans Trigger Warnings (if applicable): mentions of abuse, toxic relationships, self harm, rape/non-con elements, emotional manipulation, mental breakdown, panic attacks, self loathing Created for @skamevents

Summary: “A perfect, tight little family. But happy. Until one unfortunate day in May, in the year that David turned six.”

In the future, Robbe and Sander have a son named David. The only tie they have left with each other, actually. Because our lovers split up years ago, due to mistakes that were made in the past.

So is their love strong enough to sustain a healthy friendship? Will they find their way to each other again or break all connections for good?

Also available on AO3

SURPRISE: I’m going to add a FIFTH CHAPTER (EPILOGUE) TOO!

——————————————————

CHAPTER 4: 'No one sees myself like you do’

——————————————————

He knew he broke his heart.

Shattering the pieces everywhere.

He knew they weren’t his to take, to glue together, to hold onto.

Yet, he did it. Again and again.

He caused pain, he felt pain, he gave the pain away.

He hated pain.

But...

He loved pain.

He deserved it. He always deserved it.

Love was never his, love wasn’t there for him.

He didn’t deserved it.

Pain was better.

Breathe.

Why?

Breathe.

Why should he?

Please?

Pain was good.

Just once.

He wasn’t normal.

Come on, breathe for me.

Was he ever normal?

Oh god. Come on!

He was a monster.

Goddammit, breathe!

He didn’t.

He didn’t do it.

He didn’t want to.

A cry.

Soft blurred halo.

Fierce light surrounding him.

Vaguely familiar blonde color in the corner of his eyes.

Deep pressure on his arm.

Harsh sound of a deep cry.

“Please, Robbe...”

The pain was enough.

But then...

After a century of darkness.

He took his first breath.

-^-

He didn’t remember how he got there.

Slowly walking into his home and tracing the soft texture of the eggshell walls, he sighed deeply. He was welcomed back into the silence. As if he never left. As if they were never witness to anything else. Beautiful things had happened. Horrendous things had happened. But the walls would never speak of it. They kept their peace.

Robbe liked that.

The color was his pick, of course. As if Sander would have chosen boring beige, cold dark blue or a simple black. Come on. Get real. Back when they were together, he would have rolled his eyes at the suggestions the brown-haired boy would make. Arms crossed with faces close to each other, harsh veins popping out because of all the exertion of the shouting matches.

“Life is passion, Robbe. Don’t be the boring gay!” “Sander, we’re supposed to live in this, I don’t want to be nauseous of all the weird combinations!” “And what the hell is wrong with red and yellow?” “What’s right about red and yellow?” “God, are you serious?!”

Hours and hours of discussing splashes of paint, cataloguing each other’s taste, skipping the expensive brands and go into thrift stores to score beautiful furniture, to do it all over again. Yelling, kissing, making up. Falling out of bed, because of the fits of laughter. Mischievous eyes filled with what now?’s. Slight kisses to temples.

“Beige and brown!” “Orange and purple!”

“Dark blue and light green!” “Salmon pink and aquamarine!”

Soft Sander. Beautiful lover. His artist.

Always complying at a flutter of eyelashes, bending his knees at a sigh and holding him at one tear. Always there. Ready to take, to caress and to mend. Late night in bed with their little baby boy in their midst, whispering sweet words to let him catch on. Telling him stories about his day. About the weird accountant who wanted a beautiful portrait of his awful boss. Probably to throw darts at it, he figured. Why else?

A cute giggle.

Oh, did he tell you about the elderly couple? Together for more than fifty years, alive and kicking. They wanted their love honored by making a beautiful portrait. “Yes, no problem”, he had said. After discussing the price, set-up and deadline, Sander had instructed them to sit down to pose. And that’s when they took off their clothes. “Ah, didn't we tell you? It’s a nude portrait!”

David had always been charmed by his papa’s life. Bowie was his hero, blonde hair and leather jackets was his forté. And the tiny boy was just following along. Worshipping every tiny piece. It ran in his blood, didn’t it? Being extraordinary? The artistry? His mother wasn’t conventional either. Noor was special, artsy and beautiful. So each day would pass and their son would be more and more like Sander. A light in the darkness.

And Robbe wasn’t.

He was cold, boring and hollow.

Like now, he was standing in his own home, not knowing what to do or say. He didn’t know how to get going, how to move along and change the course. It had all happened, but did it actually? Was he there? He could feel the ground beneath his feet, the musky air in his lungs, the color of the walls. But was he there? Had he ever been here? Was he truly him?

His hand immediately went to his arm, nails scratching the hardness of skin. And Robbe started to walk around. He needed to feel the space, to know where he was. Anxious pacing the wool carpet he had chosen to compliment the couch in their tiny living room. A space that had been filled with beautiful memories, that of Jens doing a handstand to impress his nephew and almost crashing into their new coffee table.

His feet were slowly shuffling towards their dining room and kitchen. A small smile appeared at Robbe’s face, because he remembered how Moyo would make their regular tapas evenings happen here. Before they all had settled down with their partners and became too busy to organize them again. “I’m the best chef cook of the Western Hemisphere, Robbe! You’ll see!”, he said the first time.

Right before the fire alarm went off.

The next memory flashed before his eyes. Amber and Aaron coincidentally sitting in close proximity of each other. The one looking at the other, right when the other turned their gaze downwards. Jana subtly nudging her husband and whispering her observations. “They still love each other,” Robbe had heard from her. “Why won’t they go back together?” With a slight shrug from Jens as a response. “What can we do about it?”

He felt hurt.

Well, that was something.

A feeling.

A little red stain on his finger? Robbe huffed, looking down at the color. Red is a beautiful shade, isn’t it? So passionate, deep and yet, something that connected all of them. A thrilling feeling. Finally something that connected him to all his friends, his family, his own son. His ex-lover. He never truly felt tied to them all, especially in the later years.

A beep on his cell.

He was grey, as grey as the sharp steel in the kitchen. He wasn’t special. He never understood why Sander thought he was. Why his son would pick that exact song, the one which ripped his heart out and made him feel 16 years old again? Right then and there, at a beach town supermarket, a cute guy whirling him around on a supermarket cart. A feeling that went up and up, never coming down.

A text.

Pain was inevitable, he had learned. With Noor. With Sander. With David. Because children were a blessing, they'd always be the good in the world. That’s why he needed to protect the boy, from all the evil. Why he would let himself be pushed off the stairs, so not one beautiful curl on his head would be harmed. Psychically or emotionally.

- “I’m coming to talk to you” -

No other dark eyes filled with sorrow.

Only his.

-^-

“Come on, baby! Dance for me, you know you want to!”

“Wouter, please, stop it... You’re going to wake up my son.”

As if he cared... Wouter just kept pulling at Robbe’s sweater, trying to discard it, so he could dug his nails at his bare arms. His response was to shut himself off. He wasn’t going to stop anyways, so why bother? Robbe liked it too, didn’t he? He was sure he did. When the other man nipped at his ear, slowly biting a trail down his neck and loosening his belt. He really loved it. Right?

“Rob- just do it for me. I’m too tired to move along!”, the man growled.

His breath filled with distain and mixed with the stench of cheap liquor. Eyes watered down to dimmed grey and clouds covering the sun. His hands were calloused, rough, manhandling him towards the end of the bed. The man named Robbe discarding his lover’s pants and hoping to shush loud moans by softly kissing his lips. His palm sweetly caressing, was met with a sharp pain in his wrist. Hmmm...

“I want it now. Don’t give me that bullshit about lubing it up and kissing gently. Just put a condom on already! I’m ready. You are too!”

Fear struck. Made him come out of the daze. Back into his mind. Robbe moved along to the other’s body, gripped the hip and pulled it from his orbit. Followed by a furious growl, whilst fingers formed a fist. He didn’t want it to happen. It would happen anyway. But still, he couldn’t say yes to this. This wasn’t what he wanted. Stop. Don’t do this.

“Wouter, stop it please...”, he whispered. “I don’t want this”

“What do you mean? You always say yes to this! It’s me your talking to, not some loser from the street, dumb-dumb.” Sickeningly sweet tone. A flower clearing through the greyish woods. An inkling of hushed love. Two bodies breathing together, bothered in various ways. But his head still screamed ‘no’. Greasy lips on his chest, licking towards his right nipple.

“I don’t want to, Wouter. Not tonight.”

Silence.

Pull away.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yes, of course, Robbe. I’m not going to do anything you don’t want to. What kind of guy do you think I am? I’m not like that filthy know-it-all you call your ex. I mean, it’s not because you have a son with him, like you jump when he asks you to. You’re not his plaything... You’re mine. Right?”

Wouter’s face contorted in a cheap grin. He knew he shouldn’t fall for that, Robbe knew better. But did he? Maybe... Maybe his boyfriend was right? Sander did boss him around, when it came to their son. Always expecting to jump? But that wasn’t Sander was it? He didn’t know. He couldn’t think.

His thoughts were interrupted by his lover huffing out a short laugh. Seemed to be sobering up, a little. Maybe. “You shouldn’t worry your pretty head too much, darling. You’ll get wrinkles. But if we’re not going to do anything, I’ll need something to get the edge off. It’s been a long, hard damned week. I at least deserve a break. You want some?”

Oh, Robbe knew what ‘some’ meant. The brown haired boy didn’t like this feeling. Of not being in charge what was going to happen at this point of the evening. He shook his head, while his chest slowly closed up. The last memory he had of that stuff, was Wouter breaking his dresser. All because Robbe made a comment about his unemployment. A throw-away remark, that’s all it was. He was going to shut his mouth now.

It only took him a half hour.

“You know, sweetie. I always wondered what so special about that boy of yours. He’s the apple of your eye, right? A spitting image of you both. And yet, he isn’t. The son of an unknown father and a dead mother. Beautiful that you took him in. That’s true. But what’s so special about those blonde curls?”

Ice.

His blood turned to ice. Is this how murderous anger felt? It felt really close. His body was too slow at first to follow his coked-up partner to the stairs. But caught him, before Wouter could step foot towards the child’s door. Hissing. He felt like a wild animal, a lion trying to protect its cub, when he spit out:

“Don’t. Even. FUCKING. Dare. Touching. Him. Or. I’ll. Kill. You. With. My. Bare. Hands.”

Dark storm clouds looked into his. Venom in the mouth.

“Does he know, Robbe... Does he know he’s not yours? That he’s a boy that’s neither made from love between two men nor out of a conscious decision by his true mother? Never knowing his real father, having two fakes instead. You told me that, you know. You might not remember, but I do. I know what you said about little David, sweet darling son...”

Robbe froze on the spot. His fight-or-flight-reaction going into full overdrive. The hair on his arms were standing up, senses completely aware of his surroundings. All while still having no shirt on, he now remembered. What a ridiculous thought. Him, a man, of barely 1.68m and bare chested, trying to fight someone without pants and at least one head bigger than him.

And yet... So tempting...

“I remember what you said, Robbe. You were blubbering all over me, crying about that beach blonde bitch again. Typical. But then you said it to me. Your real fear... That he isn’t yours. That he looks so much like Sander, beautiful unattainable Sander. Boohoo. And never like the boring you. That you blame your ex for that! That’s what you said, right? ‘I’ll never be good enough for sweet David, Sander seems to be’. That’s adorable. Truly. Adorable.”

Poison.

In his veins.

Deafening silence.

“Maybe I should tell him, darling? All. Of. It. What do you t-”

Hard grunting. Hands everywhere. Red scratches.

Black irises taking over the grey.

Pushing and pulling.

Shouting. Screaming. Crying.

Tilting worlds. Tumbling. Tripping.

Falling. Falling. Falling.

Pain.

Black.

And a few days later:

“Don’t tell papa I broke my arm okay? It’s nothing to worry about, okay sweetie?”

Followed by a soft:

“Okay, paps. I won't.”

-^-

“It’s better this way...”

“I know.”

“You know this is the only way.”

“I knów.”

Beautiful deep eyes. A pained expression. The back of a hand tracing his cheek. Wiping away the tears trickling down. A watery smile. This feeling of being left alone with all the responsibility on his shoulders, was somehow even worse than breaking up. But he shouldered through it anyway. He needed to. He needed to be strong for someone else.

“Robbe...”

“Sander, don’t...”, the other, tiny boy whispered. “Just promise you’ll take care of him. You’re the only one I trust with him.” His little hands still covering the man’s rosed cheeks. Fresh bandages wrapped around the fragile arms. Memories of closing, days of grey clouds and unspoken communication. Sander nodded his head. But he needed to say it, to get the feelings off his chest.

“I’m so sorry, Robbe. I didn’t know. I was supposed to be there for you. In sickness and in health, right?” A pained smile of both. “I meant it, schat. I didn’t... I should’ve... We wouldn’t have...” Sander looked down. He couldn’t find the words to describe what he felt.

“It’s okay”, his love answered. A fluttery kiss to his right cheek. “I’m still here. I’m not going away. Not for long at least. And then we can start again. We can start over... Maybe. Only... If you want to. I mean... If you still-”

“I still love you. I’ll always will. I’m never going to stop.”

“Me neither...”

A ruffle through brown hair.

A featherlight hug.

A light giggle from him.

A cute wink he managed himself.

“Chill...”

“Chill..."

Then he watched the brown jacket step towards the entrance, right into the arms of the welcoming nurses. All warmly tapping his shoulder, introducing themselves and trying to make him feel at home. Nodding at what he's saying. Already knowing why he's there, but listening anyways. They were going to be good for him. Just like they were good for Sander, a whole lifetime ago.

But before his life partner stepped through the door, he made a stop and turned around quickly.

With mischief on his face.

“So, what are we going to do in the next minute?!”

And a loud response for the artist, surprising even himself:

“In the next minute, I’ll wait for you!”

And waiting he did.

#wtfock #wtfam #skambingo #skam events #part 4 of 5

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where-the-wind-is · 4 years ago

Text

A Little Birdy Told Me

The Arcana

Masterlist

Chapter 18

Your peers said nothing as you carried the jeweled dagger on you for the rest of the day.

Valdemar said nothing as you brought it to work with you in the morning.

No one said anything for the days that followed, it was refreshing.

Every time you saw it you thought of Lucio. He had truly put thought into this gift, where can you even find an unsharpened dagger? You had been convinced that the only thing that would cure the bullying was time, but here it was. The man was magic.

He was always doing that, giving you things sure, but also coming up with answers. He could help you out of any situation and just smile nervously like it didn't happen. It made you wonder how much he'd had to squirm out of for him to pick up such a skill. How much he'd smiled through.

He was always smiling, it seemed.

You were excited as you rode the magic elevator to your assignment. You had practically no work in the facility anymore and had moved to caring for Lucio full time. At his request of course. In any other circumstance this would worsen the teasing when you were down there, but remember the dagger. You practically threw open his door when you got there, Mercedes and Melchior trotted behind you. Equipt with their brand new mask-muzzles to keep them safe.

"Morning Beautiful! I brought you a surprise" You called cheerily. Despite it being a supposed surprise, Mercedes and Melchior were through the door and all over the Count before you'd finished your greeting.

"MY BABIES!!" Lucio squeezed the dogs tight around their necks, one dog in each arm. The borzois put up with it for a minute but eventually started squirming and whining to be released. He reluctantly let them go and moved to petting their long white fur as you set your stuff down. "I thought they were at risk of getting sick?"

"Check out their new threads, no more risk" you said smugly as the dogs pawed at their muzzles. Lucio was beyond happy, scritching them and cooing nonsensically.

"Babies babies babies, did you miss me huh? All alone without you, oh you haven't been hunting in forever. Poor pups."

"So today I was thinking we could take your vitals quickly and then maybe try some writing."

Lucio stopped for a moment, hesitant. He could read, and he wouldn't take criticism on that, but writing was not a skill he possessed. He had been left handed before...well he just never really was able to learn. You sit down softly on the bed next to him and hold out your hand. He knows the drill by now, putting his hand willingly in yours. You feel for a pulse and count.

Lucio's still making that concerned face. He hated confronting things he's bad at, you know that, but he should know by now you only mean to help. His brow pinches slightly as he absent-mindedly rubs Mercedes' ears. His unbrushed hair falls in his face, and his pale skin flushes just so lightly on his cheeks and nose. He stops petting Mercedes for a moment to tuck the fallen hair behind his ear, the ear with the freckle just below it on his neck. He almost looks like a painting.

You weren't counting, shit, how long had you not been counting? Heart stuttering in embarrassment you restart, hoping he doesn't notice the delay.

Reaching for the same metal cup you always use you crawl farther onto the bed to listen to his lungs. His breath hitches like always but he says nothing. It's almost worse, not knowing what he's thinking. His lungs sound worse, there's no getting around that.

Something presses the back of your neck so suddenly that you shiver and jump. Whipping around you see Melchior sitting behind you, trying to sniff you though the cloth covering his snout. You laugh lightly and give him several good pats before moving to continue your work.

Finally you sit beside Lucio with your notebook and offer him a quill. He eyes it like one might a poisonous spider.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," you say softly. He looks from the quill to you and his expression softens. Your face goes hot at the look. He takes the quill from your gloved hand, gingerly holding it in his metal one.

"What am I thinking" he mumbles to himself, but you catch it.

"Good question" you shoot back and he jumps, not expecting you to have responded. "What are you thinking?" He looks like he might make something up for a moment before seeming to think better of it.

"I was thinking...what am I thinking? You're not trying to embarrass me" he turns so red his hair stands out like strawberry leaves, but still he remains firm with his story.

"I want to help you because you said you regretted being unable to write. It's up to you" you speak frankly. The balls in his court. With a resolute shake of his head he responds.

"Yes I want to learn."

"Very good, which hand is your dominant?" You offer the notebook to him. He takes it, and you already regret the phrasing as you see a cheeky grin starting.

"Care to find out?" He hums tauntingly. Tongue darting out to lick at his teeth-baring grin. You watch, mesmerized, as his smile splits open and his teeth take hold of his bottom lip. His eyes skim you indecently.

Get ahold of yourself man, he's made jokes before.

"Another day," you choke, but it isn't convincing. He looks elated that he was finally cracking you. "You know what I meant, Lucio"

"Yeah…" his face goes serious again, eyes fixing on the quill held clumsily in his prosthetic hand. "My left…"

Oh.

You look from the quill all the way up his arm to where the prosthetic supposedly connects. Could that work? He'd had it for a long time, and it acted like a normal arm. Maybe he could pull it off?

"Alright" you say after a moment, you take a quill of your own and demonstrate the proper way to hold it. He copies well enough and your confidence grows higher.

"So you just scratch the paper?"

"No" you laugh slightly "the ink in the quill stains the paper in whatever shape you choose" carefully you lower the quill to the paper and write something in loopy script.

"Ooh pretty, what's it say?"

You blink for a moment.

He doesn't know what it says? In all the time that he's been trying to learn to read, of all the things he's picked up, this was unfamiliar? You shake your head in disbelief but try to take it in stride.

"Why don't you copy it and I'll tell you."

It takes many many tries and a lot of explanation on how to form each letter, but finally he produces something legible.

"That's gotta be it, it looks just like it!" He exclaims, eyes skimming over his page of failed attempts.

"Yep, this one's good. If I read it in a sentence I wouldn't look twice." You say warmly. He visibly puffs up at the praise, no doubt thinking himself the most gifted writing student ever.

"So?" He asks. You decide to feign ignorance for a moment longer.

"'so' what?" You ask innocently.

"What does it say?" He practically explodes in curiosity. The dogs react to their masters yelling by getting up and tromping around the bed. Bouncing the quills and ink bottles onto the carpet.

"Oh great, I'll get it–"

"Forget it just tell me!" He grabs you dramatically and shakes you. "It's eating me Birdy!"

"Ok ok calm down!" You placate. You suppose if you put it off any longer he'll start begging.

Carefully you tear the paper around where he copied the word, separating it from the rest and placing it gently in his hand.

"It says Lucio"

He gets very quiet at that. He stares at it for a solid ten minutes. Eyes wandering from one end of the word to the other. Looking at each loop and curl as his smile grew wider with each passing minute.

"I wrote my name," he says finally. "How did I not know how to read my name?!" He smacks himself.

"That's what I thought!" You laugh, and he laughs with you at the strangeness of it all.

"You're the best you know" he leans in close, fingers closing around the piece of paper.

"So I've been told…" you pretend to examine your fingernails as he snickers at your response.

"I'm serious Birdy, when I get better I'm going to make you the most spoiled lover in the city." his voice drops as his lips drip promises. You always thought his words were a trap, trying to make you stay. Now your heart beat faster and your limbs grew warm. He was saying it because he wanted to, and he said you were allowed to like being spoiled.

"The whole city?" You say tightly, and his eyes light up at the response.

"No Birdy, I'll make you the most spoiled lover in the whole world . I could make you my Viscount." He wraps his arms around you and before you even know what's happening he pulls you smoothly into his lap. "Whaddya say?"

He could very well make a recovery, you firmly believe he could, but something else made your face fall. He said Viscount…

He was the Count…

There was a Countess.

You don't know if it hadn't occurred to you before, or if it was just relevant now that you'd begun finding him unbearably attractive. But there was no overlooking the fact.

"Lucio...you have a wife"

Lucio starts suddenly, as if he'd forgotten for a moment as well.

"So?" He smiles nervously. "It's not like Noddy and I are exclusive." You shake your head and rise from his lap, standing over him for a moment with one leg planted on either side of his.

"You have a wife Lucio, I am your doctor " you shake your head again slowly as he looks helplessly up at you. "There's no way you spin it where this will work."

You feel like a fool, you couldn't pursue this. There were so many things wrong, so many factors. Lucio doesn't respond, but he doesn't look upset either. He looks decided.

What was he planning?

#The Arcana #The Arcana Fanfic #ALBTM

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yamithediaperdork · 4 years ago

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The New Baby (Harry Potter)

Life after high school wasn't all it was cracked up to be, at least if you were a ex wizard like Draco Malfoy who while he had avoided jail time for being part of the death eaters had been permanently stripped of his magic and made into a squib. As one might guess, after living a live of luxury and being able to use magic from a young age Draco was totally and completely hopeless at living without magic and in a twist that even he hadn't know about, it had turned out he'd never actually been potty trained. His Mother had cast a charm on him that had given him potty control from the time he was 6 months old having grown tired of the smell's the baby was making and well when his magic was taken from him so were any long lasting charms. the end result meant not only was he trying (and failing) to adept to the muggle world, he was doing it while back in nappies and after a week, suffering from a massive case of nappy rash as he was hopeless at getting himself clean. what little bit of his families wealth he had hung onto was quickly used up with his choice to live in a hotel and going with disposable nappies instead of cloth (He was a Malfoy damn it and he WASN'T going to wash his own shit out of a dirty nappy!) and the longest he had manged to hold down a job was under a hour, he just didn't have the temperament to work at a shop. He'd either get in a fight with a customer, get in a fight with his boss, or having a crying fit when he couldn't get a piece of muggle tech to work. One month after High school and Draco was broke, out on the street, and down to his last three nappies and rooting though a trash can for something to eat, and thats when Potter and Granger had found him.

Life after High school for Harry had been a breeze. He was rich already and world famous, and of course landed his dream job of being a auror. Likewise Hermione had managed to land a part time teaching job that left her free to come home on weekends while spending weekdays at Hogwarts. True it sucked that Ron had cut both of them out of his life after finding out they had hooked up while he'd been off having one of his many little tantrums but they were happy together for the most part,. the most part was the fact it came to light that they would never be able to have kids because of a curse Harry had taken during the battle of Hogwarts. It was a crushing blow for the young couple but they just agreed that when they were ready, they would just adopt. Of course they had both heard about what happened with Draco and shared a good laugh over heard how he needed nappies but that day on the street when they found him fishing though a rubbish bin and chomping hungrily on a half eaten burger all the joy had gone out of it. Draco had been humiliated and tried to run off but since they were in the magic part of town no one batted a eye when Hermione had lifted him up with her wand and they'd forced him to come with them..only pausing on the trip back to the nice 2 story cottage Harry owned for Harry to go and pick up some nappies and rubber pants for Draco and Hermione to treat Draco to a meal at the little fish and chip place the drug store had in the back.

Draco never stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. he knew there was no reason that these two would be this nice to him without setting him up for something bad after everything he'd done in school to them. Still, he wolfed down the fish and chips, three baskets worth as he'd only eaten what little he could find for the 2 weeks since he'd been on the street and chugged the cola that Hermione kept getting refilled for him as fast as he could. God, she looked so good. Mature, sexy, giving him looks of kindness and encouraging him to eat and drink as much as he wanted and ignoring how horrible he must of smelled. Potter came back from whatever he was doing and they were asking him question, like where was he staying, did he have a job and the like. "Stay wherever I can and try and avoid trouble." Draco said, Pausing from stuffing his face, on his third basket. he took a long sip of his cola then went on. "No job. no one wanted a nappy brat when I could wash regularly. now.." he gave a mirthless laugh and went back to chowing down, noting the look that the two gave each other. "I've got a question for you two.. Where's Weasley? Usually you three are the three musketeers and all that." Draco asked, putting a napkin to his face and belching and wincing as a loud fart came out and there was a warm wet rush between his cheeks. He was shitting himself. "I..Uh..Never mind. I should get going." He said, his cheeks turned red and he went to excuse himself. "It's ok Draco." Harry said, putting a hand on his shoulder, and giving Draco a smile even as a horrid smell filled the shop. "it's not like you can help it." Hermione and Harry did get up and moved with Draco as he moved to leave, Hermione leaving a fat tip to the poor server and then they were out on the street and he found himself numbly following their lead towards the a fore mentioned cottage, his limbs seemingly not wanting to listen to him. 'bastards! they used a unforgivable curse on me!' Draco thought, the realization hitting him like all the greasy food had hit his guts and was now hitting his nappy. the poor thing was holding up either and the back of his dirt brown trousers were growing dark with shit stained as his filth leaked down his legs. entering the house which was painted a lovely yellow, Draco felt shame flooding him as the house looked like something out of a magazine, and was nice and clean. it had been filled with the smell of wild flowers at least until he'd been marched inside and his mess was coming out his pant legs, staining the lovely cream colored carpet. it was a shocked when he heard himself actually speak up, they had lifted the curse at some point and he'd just kept walking with them on either side as they'd led him to a bathroom. "I-I'm sorry I ruined your car- Hey I can talk!" He said, even as hot tears went down his grime and food covered face, cutting a path. "Yeah mate, we only had it on you for about 30 second but you kept being a good boy. Listen Draco, Carpet's can be cleaned so down worry about it. what me and Hermione wanna do right now is look after you. That means getting you washed up." Harry said in a calm and soothing voice. "I..I don't..Why? I've always been a rotter to you both.." Draco whimpered. "Well, you weren't exactly at your most charming but with your upbringing.." Hermione said, and was helping Draco with his jacket and shirt, scanning his body for a second and giving a sigh of relief. "I told you he wasn't the type to use needles Hermione." Harry said and Draco blinked and squirmed. It wasn't that he hadn't been tempted to use some of the muggles drugs, but just he'd never been able to afford to. which was a fact he figured he had better hide from these two. "in any case.. We wanna look after you for a bit Draco. Maybe help you get up on your feet." Harry was saying as his gently tugged down Draco's pants and despite the stench of it, grinned wildly at the sight of Draco's swollen store brand nappy. "Wonderful. Now can you step out of your pants please buddy?" the question had it been from anyone other then these two would of triggered a brat fit but Draco just felt exhausted and nodded, bracing himself on Harry's shoulders as he did as he was told and Hermione used a spell to dispose of the pants. "We'll buy you more later. your shirt can be washed at least." she said holding a nose. "I..I uh, Ok.." Draco said. it wasn't like he was in a position to argue.

Harry was wiping the back of Draco's legs, getting most of the sludge that had leaked out and dabbing at the spot here it leaked when he paused and frowned. "Draco, spread your legs for a second please." Harry said. Draco did and a gasp came out of Hermione's mouth as they say the red welts and weeping blood spots on Draco's inner thighs. they had both assumed he'd been walking funny due to his nappy's thickness but their was telling anther tale. "Draco..doesn't that hurt?" Harry asked slowly, looking up with concern at the blond. "I..I just got used to it..and it doesn't hurt as bad as the rest." Draco said in a small voice, looking away from them. "The..rest?" Hermione asked slowly, then looked at Harry who nodded. He slowly undid the spoiled nappy and the smell got worst but neither were focusing on that as they both gasped at the raw skin and horrible nappy rash that Draco had, his privates were a mixture of red and brown. "Oh Draco!' Hermione cried out and started the tub going, trying to will the water to heat up faster. Harry was gently wiping at the filth and paused as Draco would flinch or hiss as Harry did so, but then with his eyes shut tight and tears running he whimpered out a request in a ragged breath. "J-Just get it done fast!" Harry didn't need to be told twice and was fighting back tears of his own as he cleaned Draco up, the tissues a mess of shit and blood and the poor guy was turning pale. Harry didn't bother to ask how this had happened, between needing to make his nappies last and Harry doubted he'd been using talcum powder or rash cream.. Not helping matters was his pubic hairs which he had clearly tried to shave at one point and many were coming back as ingrown hairs. getting him as clean as he could with the toilet paper and flushing the loo, Hermione and harry helped him into the tub and it was Harry who had a arm under Draco's and a hand on his chest as Hermione switched from tub to their detachable shower head. Keeping the flow on gentle but firm enough to wash away the filth she worked over the mess as Draco whimpered and started to sob. "Shhh It's ok Draco, it's going to be ok. we're here for you." Harry cooed and rubbed the slimmer mans chest. god, you could see how unwell he'd been eating, his ribs were almost showing and there was no way that was just from two weeks on the streets. Draco had been ignoring his diet clearly for awhile and there was his brief 2 months in prison to take in as well. "Jesus.. " Harry muttered and locked eyes with his wife,She was almost crying as she washed away the filth, and nodded back to him. "I..I..It hurts.." Draco whimpered in a pathetic, mockery of his former tone, and he looked back at Harry, seemingly unable to look at Hermione. "I..Just..Help.." he whimpered like a broken puppy. "we're gonna Draco." Harry promised. "But right now we have to remove your pubic hair. it's lea-" Harry started and Draco happened to look down as Hermione turned the water off and reached for the shaving cream and a razor. "N-No! No razor! get that away from me! you'll cut me!" Draco Howled, suddenly alive and with a power Harry hadn't expected and would of over powered him if his fear fueled power hadn't run out as fast as it had come on. Draco slumped in Harry's arms, panting and weakened and sniffling. "D-Draco what was that about?" Harry asked. "M-My first night on the streets... a.. a big heavy set muggle.. he..he had a razor. said I was going to.. to.. " and Draco whimpered and sobbed., but went on. "Or he'd cut me. I..I was scared and so I..I.." Draco's sobs filled the bathroom and Harry and Hermione were silent in shock. "Draco I.. I'm JUST going to remove your hair down here..so you can get better. NO one i this house will ever make you do THAT." Hermione said in a soft and calming tone. "I..I..Promise?" Draco sniffled. "We will NEVER lie to you Draco, thats a promise." Harry promised. "...I might flinch...I can't help it." Draco said after about 30 seconds. "I'll keep that in mind." Hermione said and then got to work.

With Draco semi cleaned up and shaved, the poor boy still needed a soak and a washing. the tub was washed out and then switch back to the facet and Draco was gently laid down in the tub, on the slant that all tubs have and the water slowly filled the tub as Harry and Hermione exchange looks and squeezed each others hands. they had been told they could never have a baby but here was a boy who needed a set of loving parents in the worse way, never mind he was their age. Noticing how Draco semi flinched around her as she moved in, Hermione stepped back and let Harry wash Draco and get his hair cleaned and then tried to let Draco enjoy the warm water for a bit as she shut off the tap. it was all for naught though as a combination of what he had been though and the hot/warm water had Draco quickly fall asleep in the tub, and it was only her quick movements (Harry had been talking to her, his back to Draco) that kept his head from going under while Harry pulled the plug to drain the water.

Getting Draco out of the water and wrapped up in a soft towel, Harry couldn't help but be amazed at how light Draco was, almost as if he had hollow bones. Carrying him to the makeshift nursery that Hermione and Harry had started before finding out they could never conceive, it was Hermione who took to using a few spells to change the size of the crib and the like while Harry for at least this nappy change set Draco on the plush carpet. Laying out 3 of the soft and thick terry cloth diapers under the sleeping boy, Harry proceeded to coat Draco's butt and crotch with rash cream and followed up with a thick coating of baby powder that made the sleeping blond give a adorable little sneeze. Pinning the nappy's up he got the light blue rubber pants over them with a little bit of trouble and then Hermione was holding up two Onesie's she'd made big enough to fit the adult baby. "What do you think Harry?" She asked held up a one one with a dinosaur print up it and a light blue one with a teddy on the front. "Teddy or dinos?" "oh, teddy for sure." Harry chuckled and they started to get him dressed.

Draco woke up about a hour later, Yawning and rubbing at his eyes. he'd had a crazy dream that he'd run into Harry and Hermione and they had taken him back to their place to make him their big baby. He was a little bit confused on why he was on something so comfortable when the local shelter would of been closed by now and slowly forced his semi gummy eyes to opened and look around. "...On second thought, Maybe that wasn't a weird dream after all.." Draco said in a soft voice. He was in a nursery alright, light green walls and different magical beasts painted on the walls. the carpet was a light brown color and looked very plush and soft and he was in a wooden crib that had been painted white and had a queen sized mattress in it, and a mobile hanging up over head with quidditch players hanging from it, spinning around. the crib had a little activity toy on the run of it, different knobs and the like he could play with and semi mirror in it that let him see his new attire. "Bloody hell..I look like a over sized baby!" Draco squeaked out. before he could take anymore in the door to the Nursery opened and in walked Harry and Hermione. "Now now, watch the potty mouth." Harry scolded with a smirk, wagging a finger. "Oh be nice, He's just a little shocked. I think we can give him some leeway." Hermione said and then leaned over the crib rail. "Do you feel better after your nap little one?" Truth be told he did feel better, and his nether regions weren't as sore as before but still, he was founding himself in a not quite mute shock, but unable to form words and he babbled away before just slowly nodding his head. "S'all right Little guy. I know this is a bit of a shock but trust me, you're gonna love it here." Harry said. "I..Buh...Da?" came Draco's less then witty reply. "well spoken." Hermione giggled and ruffled Draco's hair and gushed as the little guy closed his eye's in bliss and nuzzled into her hand. "OK, that's just adorable." Harry chuckled and Joined Hermione on the crib rail. "Now some basic rules we're gonna need you to follow Draco...Don't worry, they're nothing horrible." Draco opened his eyes at that and gulped nervously, he'd never been all that good at following the rules. "Rule number one: You're not allowed to change your own nappies. I know sometimes it might seem easier for you if you could but that's mine or Hermione's job now. you'll never be left in a soiled nappy any longer then you have to be in it, If I'm busy cooking or the like.All you have to worry about is looking cute" Harry said holding up a finger. "Rule number two:You're no longer allowed to bathe yourself. We were gonna show some leeway with it but after you conked out in the tub earlier, it's just for your safety." Hermione said, holding up two fingers. "Rule number three: we know you're still a grown man with certain needs, but if you feel the need to pleasure yourself let me or mommy know first and we'll give you a little privacy. I don't really wanna walk in on you humping a teddy." Harry said, smirking and holding up three fingers as Draco blushed BIG time at that. "Rule number four: Your to call me and Harry mommy and daddy, or if you have a varmint of those you prefer that's ok. You'll need to get used to it for when we take you out in public as we'll be using a shrinking charm to make you look like a little boy. We could use the charm all the time if you prefer but we both figured that should be your choice to make after you've tried out both sizes." Hermione said and held up four fingers. "And last but not least, Rule number five: Your not to try and feed yourself without permission from mommy or daddy. We want you to relax and enjoy being spoiled. Questions, comments, concerns?" Harry asked and waited. Draco squirmed in his thick nappy, blushing as he listened and then finally found his voice as he did indeed have one question. "W-what happens if I break a rule?" He asked in a small voice and then looking around his crib he spotted a snake stuffie and pulled it to his chest. "Heh.. well first time will be a scolding and likely a time out. second time will be a spanking on your diapered butt and a time out. third time.." And Harry trailed off, but it didn't take a genius to guess the unspoken threat. "I'll be good! I'll be very good!" Draco promised, then paused for a second and a little smirk crossed his face. "You knowwwww Mommy and daddy.. you didn't make swearing against the rules. so I can say fu-" "Don't push it little man. you won't get a spanking for swearing but there's a bar of soap with your name on it." Hermione chuckled. that was met with a muffled poot from Draco who gave a sheepish grin. "Jusssst hada test it you know,." "Mhmm..I can see this is going to be a interesting relationship." Harry said and then both him and Hermione leaned over the crib bars and smooched Draco's cheeks.

The end for now

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thedarkivist · 5 years ago

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Dealing

Inko and Toshinori face the mightiest foe so far - an uncooperative copy machine.

Read on AO3

Another piece for the Office Romance collection! Dedicated to @yanmazu, because this was 80% her idea. It was meant to be posted months ago but... real life. Messages and reblogs fuel me.

Inko crossed her arms over her chest and let out a frustrated groan.

“Come on, work with me here.”

The copy machine didn’t care. Inko would never say it aloud, but she was beginning to suspect the copy machine had something against her. First, she tripped on the cord, almost getting too friendly with the carpeted floor. And then, once she gathered the documents she needed to copy, they were… not being copied. She glanced over the machine. The cord was plugged in, so that couldn’t be the issue. With that, Inko pretty much reached the limits of her knowledge about technology.

Oh goodness, she broke it.

After she told All Might to go to… heck, the incident was never mentioned again. That was fine with her, but she worried she couldn’t push her luck any further. By breaking the new copy machine, for instance. Not that she did anything to it that could break it, but even if-

“Hello, Inko.”

For a second, she thought she heard All Might and she turned around so fast she most likely broke the world record. But no, it was Toshinori. Toshinori!

“You’re back!”

The shadows under Toshinori’s eyes seemed more pronounced that day and she noticed a little blood stain on the cuff of his shirt. All Might did mention Toshinori had taken some time off because of his health…

How bad could it be? Her smile faltered at the thought.

Toshinori observed the change in her expression, unsure what to make of it. She seemed so pleased to see him at first. He knew he wasn’t much to look at – and, perhaps, All Might’s warning got to her, in the end. Still, he hoped to stay on friendly terms with her.

“That’s right, I am here!”

Inko giggled, covering her mouth. Toshinori had no idea that such a little gesture be so unbelievably adorable, but there he was, looking like a fool.

“You must teach me that,” she said, still smiling.

Toshinori blinked. “Teach you what?”

“That All Might impression. It’s perfect,” Inko clarified, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye.

Toshinori blinked again. Oh yeah. The All Might impression. He could do that. Three seconds and one awkward laugh later, he nodded. “Sure. Anything else I could help you with while we’re both here?”

“Not that I can think of.” She looked down, worrying a loose strand of hair between her fingers. “But do you know anything about the copy machine being broken? It’s not being very… cooperative today.”

“Let me take a look,” he offered with a smile that implied more confidence than he felt. He only managed to turn off his ringtone three times out of ten, anything more advanced than that was beyond him. He looked over the machine. “It’s plugged in. Have you tried turning it off and on again?”

Inko shook her head. “Not yet.”

Toshinori gave the machine a long, hard look. It was brand new – a glossy black machine with more buttons than any proper machine should be allowed to have. He could admit to Inko he didn’t know which button would turn it off, but he could also change his name and flee to Luxembourg never to return.

“I just think it’s trying to spite me – I already tripped over the cord today,” Inko said, watching the machine warily.

Toshinori knelt next to the plug – too fast, his knees complained – and checked the plug again. It wiggled. It only seemed to be plugged in, while, in fact, it wasn’t. He gently pushed it in and the machine from hell lit up.

“So this was the problem!” Inko exclaimed, blushing prettily. “I should’ve realised.”

He was half-leaning, half-sitting on the machine (considering his height, he could really only lean against walls, trees, and Fatgum) trying not to beam too much. “What can I say? I’m a tech wizard,” he lied smoothly.

“You’re my hero.”

Great. Now he was blushing too. “You don’t really mean that.”

“I know what I said.”

He shifted his weight, some of those awful buttons digging into his thigh.

And then came the sound. The horrible, screeching, very expensive sound. Toshinori jumped away from the machine, eyes wide in horror.

“I broke it!”

Then the machine spat out a piece of paper. It hit Inko straight in the chest. And then another. And another. Still with the hellish cat-in-heat sounds. He pushed her away from the never-ending stream of paper. A paperlanche, if you will.

Everything happened so fast it took her a couple of seconds to process the fact that, yes, Toshinori’s arms were around her, keeping her safe and sound away from harm. Close enough for her to smell the detergent he used. Close enough to ki-

- nope. None of that, Inko thought to herself sternly. This is a serious situation.

They stayed like that for what felt like a little eternity, until the copy machine covered the floor in paper, and fell quiet once again.

“Oh no,” Inko mumbled.

Toshinori picked up one of the papers and looked at it. “Oh shit.”

The papers weren’t blank, on the contrary. Every single piece showed a somewhat blurry, but still clear enough picture of Toshinori’s ass. Inko took a quick glance, and quickly averted her eyes, turning a shade of red that clashed with her mint green blouse.

“I have to shred these immediately,” he announced. That was it. He’d wait until everyone went home and then he’d kick the copy machine. Okay, that seemed a little too extreme. He’d have a stern talk with it. But that’d just look dumb. He’d… he’d… he’d glare at it for at least twenty seconds.

“I’ll help,” she told him in a tone of voice that allowed no room for arguing before she dropped to her knees, gathering the copies into messy piles. “It’s my fault, too. But we should do it before someone else comes.”

He nodded, picking up the copies frantically. “There’s another shredder in All Might’s office. It’s unlikely someone would find us there. I… I think he’s out today.”

“Let’s do that, then. Are… are you sure it’s gonna be okay?”

“Well, it’s not like we’re sneaking off to make out during the office hours,” he joked. Silence settled between them. Rubbing the back of his neck, he cleared his throat.

“Let’s get rid of all this ass.”

#Toshinko

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crystalninjaphoenix · 6 years ago

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A New Visage

An idea for the Branded AU that I’ve had for a while. This was a bit difficult for me to write, but I think it came out alright. Anyway, this is for all the people who are wondering what happens to someone once they get masked. And also, how do the masked even work? How do they operate? All those questions and more will be answered soon.

Branded is created by Jay, @blade-of-memeora! Check out more on their profile!

The room probably hadn’t been meant for people to stay in. It was rather small, and it didn’t have any windows. One of the walls had clearly been added in somehow, made of plywood instead of plaster. But regardless of its original purpose, someone had dragged a cot with bedding into the room, and that was where he was sitting now, cross-legged with his hands in his lap.

He wasn’t sure how long he was supposed to stay here. He must’ve been here for at least a couple hours, and there wasn’t any sign of anything changing. There was a strong temptation to get up and just leave through the closed wooden door, but he wasn’t supposed to. That was the overwhelming thought in his mind, that he should stay and wait. Whenever he thought about leaving, the notion was soothed away, and he kept waiting.

When the door opened, he immediately tensed, eyes flying toward it. Two people walked in. One had shoulder-length rose-red hair, and the other had undercut bronze-orange hair. They were both wearing masks, with orange’s being shaped like butterfly wings and red’s being a simpler one that covered the upper half of their face. He stared at them. The two of them stared back. And then the orange one scowled and muttered, “Why do we always get the cats?”

“We don’t have that many,” said the red one.

“The Seamstress just sent us another pair,” the orange one countered. “Guess what? More cats. They’re not house cats, but my point stands. I think we have enough cats to form a pride.”

“Does it really matter?” The red one stepped further into the room. They smiled at him. “Don’t mind Monarch, she’s a bit fussy over details. You’re the new one, then? We’ve been assigned to fill you in. Call me Lightshow.”

He stared at them for a moment more, then slowly stood up. “Hello. It’s...it’s nice to meet you.” Instinctively, he opened his mouth to introduce himself, but nothing came out. Come to think of it...his mind was fairly blank in that department as well…

“You look confused,” Lightshow said. “Don’t worry, we all were at first. It’ll make sense the longer you’re here. Come on, we’ll show you around.”

The three of them came out of the room into a long hallway lined with doors. Some of the doors looked like they belonged, others looked more out of place, sitting in sawn-out door frames. The beige wallpaper was faded and peeling, the red carpet was dirty, and the lights overhead flickered. It looked like the hallway was part of what had once been a nice house, but had been run-down and abandoned for a while. The room they’d just come out of was sitting near the end of the hallway, which extended before them for a long time before it turned. The hall was empty except for two more people in masks, one yellow-haired, one cyan-haired, who were talking to each other.

“Where is this place?” he asked, the words coming out hushed.

“Just some abandoned building on the edge of this town,” Monarch replied, shrugging. “We’ve repurposed it. Unfortunately, there are quite a few of us in this area, so the ones living here had to...remodel it a bit. Hope you get used to it, you’ll be living here unless you’re wanted somewhere else.”

“Really?” He looked around, reconsidering his surroundings. Not exactly what he was used to, but he supposed there were worse places to live, especially if it had to be an abandoned building. “How will I know if I’m wanted somewhere else?”

“You’ll know, kitten,” Lightshow said simply. They started walking, Monarch by their side. One he realized they were walking, he hurried to catch up, but stopped short of walking even with them. He wasn’t supposed to do that. “There are three floors to this building, and this is the second one. Here, we have everyone’s personal spaces.”

“Like bedrooms?” he asked.

“Not exactly.” Lightshow glanced at him. “Bedrooms are for sleeping. You’ll find you don’t really need to do that anymore, but you can if you want. The personal spaces are just that: spaces for privacy. People function better if they have something of their own.”

They passed the two masked who’d been standing in the hallway. He stared at them as they walked by. The yellow-haired one flashed a wicked grin, while the cyan one’s smile and head tilt was a bit softer. “How many people are in here?” he asked, speeding up a bit, barely stopping himself from being even with the other two.

Monarch hummed. “I dunno, I think you make it nineteen?”

“Twenty,” Lightshow corrected. “You always forget about them.”

“Oh yeah. But maybe they don’t count.” Monarch glanced behind them, back at the two others they passed. “A word of advise, by the way? Keep your personal items close while around that yellow one back there. They like to snatch things. Even managed to get away with the doc’s coat once.”

“Whose coat?”

“The doc.” They turned the corner, and Monarch pointed down this new hall towards a door at the very end. “You might meet him soon. He’s one of the ones who travel a lot, in contrary to those of us who stay in one area. Not around now, but he stays there when he is. You ask a lot of questions, don’t you?”

He bristled. “Well, when I’m in a new place I try to find out as much as I can about it. Sorry if that’s rude or something.”

Lightshow laughed. “Kitten’s got a tongue. That’s cute. You might want to keep that to yourself around here. It could get you in trouble, and not everyone’s willing to overlook a slight.”

His immediate reaction was to snap back in retaliation for the cute remark, but that faded away the more he thought about it. It was something he shouldn’t do. That made sense. So instead of saying anything, he just nodded and rubbed his wrists, which suddenly felt odd.

They came to a pair of staircases, one leading up, and one leading down. “I say up,” Monarch said. “I don’t feel like walking up two pairs of steps when I have the option of only walking up one.”

“No, we have to save that part for last.” Lightshow was already heading downward, not even bothering to look back at her. “Just in case something happens.”

“...ah. Right. You know I really think if that was gonna happen, it would’ve by now, but yeah, good point. Come on, whiskers.”

He started after them. “What could happen?”

“Oh, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Lightshow called. “Hurry up, you two.”

The first floor of the house was in a similar state as the second one. It must’ve once been nice, but it was now worn down. The carpets were stained, and when there wasn’t carpet the wooden floor underneath creaked. But the place was still livable. He figured that the people who lived here must keep it fixed up and maintained. Maybe there was a chore wheel. The thought almost made him laugh, but it didn’t get beyond a small grin before it was quieted.

The rooms on the first floor had various purposes. One was announced as the storage room, full of boxes that he wasn’t allowed to look inside of, though he did manage to see a pair of masks sitting on a shelf by the door. One was full of maps, showing various places all around the country, and even the world, all marked up. Again, he wasn’t allowed to look too closely at the contents. There were a couple doors that they walked right past, also based on the principle that he wasn’t allowed inside there. And, somehow, he was okay with that. He wasn’t high up enough yet. He shouldn’t even want to go inside until it was time.

There were only really two places he could stay in for long. The first of which was a sort of common area, apparently the one place people could socialize in this house. There was a fireplace in this large room, as well as a few chairs, sofas, and low tables. It was mostly empty, though there were a couple people in masks chattering in the corner, one blue and one purple. He couldn’t catch much of the conversation, but the one with steel-blue hair seemed to be pretty exasperated. “You can check this place out once you’re ready,” Monarch said. “It’ll be great for you to get to know the rest of us.”

The other room, Lightshow introduced as the mission room, a medium sized room with a map of the city on one wall and a desk with a computer leaning against the other. There were also coat hangers lining the walls, with various articles of clothing, “In case you need to be subtle,” Lightshow explained.

“Um…what exactly are the missions?” He ventured to ask.

Lightshow looked shocked. “Oh, I thought you’d have figured that out by now! After all, it was a mission that brought you here.”

He blinked. “What?”

“Don’t you remember? They actually sent six out for you, anticipated trouble. Honestly a bit overkill, in my opinion, could’ve gotten away with maybe half that. We really should get someone who can organize things better around here. But I’m not in charge of making the teams, or of deciding who’s next.” Lightshow smiled at him. “You were chosen, kitten. The master thought you’d be useful for the cause. It’s a great honor, but not many people see it that way, so when we go out to recruit them, they don’t exactly appreciate it. They always come around though. Like you did.”

He remembered it now. Every moment, from seeing those people in his house to having the mask put on his face. He remembered being scared. But...why had he been? Nothing bad has happened to him in the whole time he’s been here. And it was an honor to be chosen...it was amazing to be found useful. He had nothing to be scared of. If anything, he should be grateful. He nodded slowly. “That makes sense...so we always go out to recruit more?”

“Oh, not always,” Lightshow continued. “Sometimes we need to get more supplies. And sometimes we have to get rid of the enemies to the cause.”

Of course. “And...that’s how we help the cause? Which is...to get more people?”

“The cause is to help the master, kitten,” Lightshow said, smiling. “And getting more people does just that.”

He nodded again. “I think I get it…”

“Good. This was the last room on the floor. It’s time to go up to the attic.”

Monarch smiled. “This is the best part.”

The top floor looked unfinished, with wooden floors and rafters spanning the ceiling of the one large room. Pillars supported the roof and there were what looked like random crates scattered about. There were also punching bags dangling from the ceiling and simple mannequins lining the edges of the room. The room was empty except for a single white-haired mask sitting against one of the pillars, who quickly stood up and left the moment the three of them entered, mumbling something about “good luck.”

“Alright. First things first.” Monarch grabbed his arm and pulled him to the center of the room while Lightshow meandered over to one of the crates and sat down. “We have to figure out what you can do.”

He was still rather confused, but he just stared at her. Answers would come soon.

“Everyone has magic, you know,” Monarch continued. “But it’s a tiny amount, unable to do much of anything. Until we’re given these.” She tapped her mask. “They amplify our abilities, and connect us to the master and each other. Fascinating, right?”

He nodded. It did seem kind of cool to have actual magic.

“There are a couple different types: allure, illusion, healing, teleportation, creation, elemental, and…” Monarch grimaced. “...chaos. You can only have one, and we need to find out which one you have.”

“Okay…” he said. “How do we do that?”

Monarch grinned. Her orange hair was suddenly glowing, and her eyes lit up with the same color. He barely registered this fact before something hard hit him in the gut, knocking the breath out of him and throwing him hard to the floor. He was winded for a second before managing to push into a sitting position. Monarch was still grinning at him, but not there were wisps of what looked like orange smoke whirling around her. “Well, you see,” she said, “We’ve found that magic tends to kick in when you’re in danger. So the easiest way would be to—”

Some of the smoke broke into small shapes, darting toward him. He yelped, throwing his arms over his head to protect it. The smoke darts hit his skin and poofed away, but they left behind a stinging pain. He glanced up just in time to see more coming. “N—stop!” He scrambled backwards, not nearly fast enough to avoid the next round. He could practically feel the bruises forming.

“Make me stop!” Monarch yelled. The smoke grouped together into larger segments and shot toward him.

He scrambled to his feet and started running, but he wasn’t faster than the smoke. The new, bigger wisps hit with an oof-inducing impact. Make her stop. Once the notion took hold, it wouldn’t go away. Of course, he had to make her stop. But how? The smoke still followed him; even when he tried to hide behind a pillar it managed to flow right around and hit him again. He ducked around the pillar, saw more smoke zooming toward his eyes, and ducked behind it again. The smoke still stung his eyes and he teared up. He squeezed his eyes shut. Somehow it had to stop. Monarch was controlling this, if he could somehow get her away, get her out of here—

Something clicked inside him. He gasped, and opened his eyes. They were now glowing green to match his hair. He circled around the pillar, eyes locking on to Monarch on the other side of the room. Make it stop. There was a splash of green light, a “Hey wha—”, and when the light faded away Monarch was gone.

He stared at the spot where she had been just seconds before. Then, there was the sound of clapping. Lightshow stood up. “Very nice,” they said, walking toward him. “See, that’s the teleportation we mentioned earlier. Good, I was hoping it would be something like that. Most people in this location are elementals or creators, have enough of those around.”

“Where’d she go?” he asked, still staring at the spot of blank floor.

Lightshow waved away the question. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you teleported someone else! Usually teleporters can only move themselves around, and need practice to move others. But you were able to do that right away!”

He felt a flicker of pride at that. “Now what?”

“Well, obviously, you still need practice. You just sent someone away without a destination in mind, usually not something you want to happen. But don’t worry, if this was any indication, you’ll improve quickly.” They smiled. “Very good. I was worried you’d be one of the chaotic ones. Those cause some trouble. This last one we picked up basically destroyed their first location, and before that we had one who vanished on a mission. But you? You’ll be very useful to the master.”

That was good. That was all he wanted.

“Now.” Lightshow grabbed his wrist and started pulling him toward the stairs again. “We’re done for today. You can go back to your personal space and wait until we’re ready for practice.”

“Okay.”

And so he ended up back in that same room he’d started the day in. He could go out and explore the building again. He could try and practice more with his new magic. He could do any number of things.

But he wasn’t supposed to. Maybe there’d be time for that another day, when there was nothing to do. Now? There was something to do, and that was to wait. So he sat down, folded his legs, and waited to be called on again.

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye fanfiction #jacksepticegos #septic egos #septic egos au #marvin the magnificent #brigid writes fanfiction #branded au

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veridium · 6 years ago

Text

sweetest goodbye

@bitchesofostwick I’m literally garbage and spewed this fluff onto my computer so here. it helped that your beautiful torturous fluff from last chapter was so so so good and inspired me.

PART 8 OF THE TRASH CAN FIRE COLLEGE AU FIC.

ON THIS EPISODE: The day after their party escapade, and Olivia has a choice to make -- take Cassandra up on her bet and show up at the Church, or skip out and move on for good. She makes a pact with Ellinor that they will do something to clean up the messes they’ve made; how successful that ends up being, well, only time will tell.

part 1 // part 2 // part 3 // part 4 // part 5 // part 6 // part 7

The worst part is the dry throat that comes when she first wakes up after a Friday of drinking and poor decisions. It always makes her cringe and curl into her bed face-down, until it’s too much to bear and she has to get up and drink a hydroflask’s worth of water from the dorm bathroom sink. That is, unless she wakes up and the first thing she sees is Ellinor’s feet -- which, incidentally, is what happens the morning after their night from hell.

She blinks her heavy lids open and sees them in all their glory: the chipped hunter green nail polish on her big toes, the crocheted anklet hanging on by a worn-down knot. She stretches her arms up and papers crackle -- taco bell wrappers no less.

She groans and pokes Ellinor in her ankle. Her ticklish instincts lead her to flinch and retract a foot into the comforter. A growl from the other end of the dorm twin bed.

“Errrrghhhh,” Ellinor stiffs, rolling over. “Fuck me.”

“You’re the only person I could wake up next to in bed and still be a hundred percent sure I did anything but that,” Olivia mutters back, rubbing her eyes with her knuckle. “What time is it?”

“Hell if I know.”

“Ugh.” She reaches back and slaps her hand a couple times on the nearby dresser searching for what feels like a phone. Finding it, she holds it up over her face only to drop it on her forehead. She winces and cusses under her breath before turning the screen on. “It’s...shit, it’s 2.”

“Too early.” Ellinor curls back over against the wall.

“Ellinor.”

She only burps, followed by a groan of disgust. “My burps taste like fire sauce…”

Olivia sighs heavy and pulls her arms up and over the blanket, folding them against her chest as she stares up at the ceiling. Trying to remember everything: the house party she had no idea about until it was too late. The whiskey -- the excessive whiskey. Cassandra arguing like an asshole in the hall, and her stupid bet. Getting in the car with Theia while Josie asks her what’s wrong over and over. Their arrival at a gay bar and her ordering another double old-fashioned to add insult to injury. Dancing on...tables? Tables.

That is where her memory goes hazy. She wishes it got like that sooner in the evening so she wouldn’t have to think about it all.

“Are you...gonna go?” Ellinor asks, seemingly reading her thoughts.

“I don’t think I should,” she replies honestly, exhaling. “I’m in no shape to be judged for all my mortal sins.”

Ellinors tucks herself deeper into the bed against her borrowed pillow. “Mmph. I don’t think she’s expecting a Saint to show up.”

“I don’t think she’s expecting me to show up at all.”

“Could you blame her, dude?”

She’s right. Grumpy, but right. It would be on-brand for Olivia to keep with her tradition of finding the exit and call it good. She checks her apps on her phone, taking it off DO NOT DISTURB. New messages from several people -- Theia, with a thumbs up after she confirmed they got back to the dorm. Her Dad, wondering why she hasn’t called. The student she’s tutoring wanting to reschedule...again. Then, Cassandra’s name comes up. A message sent at 9am:

--I can send you the address, if you’re planning on coming.

That’s it. That’s all. No tastefully added smiley emoji, no greeting like she would before. She used to say ‘good morning’ and ‘goodnight.’ Olivia kind of misses it. But then her voice saying ‘Goodnight, Olivia’ with her understated smugness echoes in her head and compounds her nausea.

“What about Cullen?” Olivia diverts, tossing her phone onto her stomach. “You gonna handle that mess you made?”

“I didn’t make a mess,” Ellinor says resentfully. “I...I got out of hand, and ejected myself before it could get worse. I am glad I did.”

“Ellinor,” Olivia peers down at her, only seeing her bedhead of dark hair against the pillowcase. “He did the cool thing. You know, we like guys who do that cool thing. Right?”

Maybe that is the issue -- he was doing the cool thing. He always does the cool thing. Ellinor doesn’t know where to look for her excuse explaining why she blocks him out. There’s no idle vice, no insincerity, no pretentiousness. No foul taste in music or cinema. He’s just fine. Perfectly fine.

“Look,” Olivia adds, squirming in place. Her head aches. “I’ll cut a deal. I’ll...address my mess, if you address yours. You owe me that after lying to me like a dumbass. Right?”

Ellinor is quiet for a moment. Olivia expects her to say “nuh-uh” and go back to sleep, or start snoring without a word at all. But, to her credit, she rolls back over and peers down her nose, frowning but with acceptance.

“Fine.”

“Fine. You have until tomorrow night at Midnight to do it. Then, we are to have our shit swept under the rug where it belongs.” Olivia smirks bittersweetly, and pecks the side of her foot. “Asshole. I can’t believe you pulled that on me. I hate you.”

“I know. But it was pretty fucking hilarious.” Ellinor stretches her arms up above her head, hands in fists. “Besides, you were hot.”

She is right. She was hot. But dammit if Cassandra did not show a single lick of care in that regard. 2:00pm means she has an hour and a half to get her act together, whatever it is. Should she be spiteful and come dressed like a demonic sorceress with a need for a virgin sacrifice? Or should she play along and maybe not go full throttle-antagonist just yet?

Ellinor pinches her in the calf. “Don’t scare the Preacher into locking you up and exorcising you, please.”

Well, there’s her verdict.

TWO HOURS LATER…

For the second time in the weekend Olivia finds herself standing in front of a building she has no interest in entering, and yet, she is tasked with doing just that. Cassandra’s text was nice, but unnecessary; everyone knew where their Church was. It is a gaudy one, with bells, cobblestone facade, and all. It’s annoying, and old looking, and smells on the inside. At least, that is what she remembers from the last time she set foot in it when she was sixteen.

It’s 4:15. She’s late. But it’s fine. She tugs at the turtleneck collar of her black, crushed velvet dress than goes down to her knees. Around her waist is a black slim belt, and she’s wearing the same kind of black sheer tights from the night before. A compromise between wanting to stick it to Cassandra and accommodate the situation. And oxford heels, the most non-emo punk pair of shoes she owns. Her hair is in a neat top bun but she secretly wishes she had worn it down. Now she won’t be able to hide her face around its waves.

In the front where there is a podium by double doors, and the carpet is blue like she remembers. The side offices look locked up and desolate. She expects there to be several busybody Jesus-Juicers singing or praising the Lord on this fine Saturday evening, and yet, the place is so quiet she could hear a pin drop and scream Hallelujah.

She goes through the two doorways leading to the main chamber, where the two sides of long benches span down the length of the room towards the altar steps. The place is one of those Churches that tries its best to look old despite probably being built no farther back than 1995. Stained glass windows depicting sacred scenes up along the walls, flying buttresses that are probably just mostly plaster, and wooden pews.

She walks until she’s about halfway down the main processional walkway and stops. In the corner is the organ, the one she was forced to play on once. She was learning piano at the time, but her Mother thought she would do well to learn hymns via musical appreciation. It did not go well. The songs she learned were so repetitive, always so mundane to her kid self who wanted to be entertained. Just as she zones out into her childhood of repressed manners, a sound of creaking out from the other side of the altar stage. A door opening fast. In a flash Cassandra appears, dressed in black slacks like the ones she wore the night of the concert and a black button-down dress shirt. Tucked in. Of course. She looks surprised. Like, honestly surprised.

Olivia blinks. “Hello!”

Cassandra just stands there, looking like the Holy Ghost has stopped by with a cup of coffee and wearing a little, black, long-sleeved velvet dress.

Olivia swallows and starts walking to her. Slowly like a choir processional member. “Cat got your tongue?”

“I…” Cassandra gulps, looking back behind her fast before she refocuses on her guest. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

She furrows a brow. “Is that not what you do when you are invited somewhere?”

“Well, yeah, but…when you didn’t text back, I kind of just assumed...” she looks around again, this time back towards the doors from whence Olivia came. What, is she scared someone is gonna jump out and attack?

“You okay? You look…” Olivia comes around the front row and up the two steps, now standing parallel with her.

“Oh! Uh,” she clears her throat and cradles her arms under her chest. “Yeah. I think I just maybe...uh, nevermind. H-how are you? Did your night get better after your friends came and picked you up?”

It must have. Olivia can’t remember for sure, which is a good sign. Usually. “Agh, yeah,” she smirks, shrugging to one side, “we just did our typical nonsense. I’m still kinda out of it.”

“Right. I had a little too much rum and coke last night, myself.”

“Oh, you do drink rum?”

“Yeah. How did you…”

“I smelled it on your br--I mean, uhm,” she rubs her wrist to her throat and looks toward the altar mosaics. “Cool...cool stuff here. They still have the same sh--I mean, things, here, from what I remember.” She kicks at the ground with her shoe heel.

Cassandra grins, and steps closer. “I mean, religion kind of attests the adage ‘if it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.’”

“I think quite the contrary,” Olivia meanders towards the table where the bread and water plates are laid out, clean and pristine, “you would be unpopular around Martin Luther and his friends.”

A chuckle. “Touche.” Cassandra arrives at her side and locks eyes with her. There’s no anger in her expression -- quite the opposite, actually. A reserved hopefulness.

“Listen, Cass--”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Cassandra shakes her head, sliding her hands into her pant pockets. “I get it. Church girl with a mean face turns up and shows interest. Must be an Inquisition on the wings.”

Olivia laughs nervously, tucking nonexistent hair behind her ears. “You said it, not me.” She looks back behind her at the empty room, so spacious and expansive, yet she feels closed in. “I...I admit I’m confused, though.”

“Confused? Why?”

“It’s just. I don’t know. You’re caring an awful lot about a simple friendship…” she scans the windows again, noticing the stark colors of the peoples’ clothes. “Especially one not founded on spiritual salvation.”

She lets her gaze fall on Cassandra, who looks rather engrossed in something. Something...someone, apparently, as her eyes are only on her. Another fleeting moment where Olivia thinks she sees the truth in her intentions, but can’t be sure. It’s one foot in, one foot out, and a door ready to slam on her fingers for daring to touch. But she smiles, and plays coy.

“What’s the matter?”

“...Nothing,” Cassandra’s brows lift, her eyes clearing as she looks away. “Hey, um, I did ask you here for a reason. If you have the time, I’d like to show you something.”

“Oh?” Olivia twists her shoulders, “is this where I meet Trevor?”

Cassandra walks towards the door she came in from, waving a hand casually as an invitation to follow her. “We don’t have a Trevor here. The band leader’s name is Peter, for your information.”

Olivia takes one last look at her surroundings before coming along. “Ah, Peter. Of course. What a non-denominational name.”

She hears another laugh as they walk through the door and down the narrow, white-painted hallway. It’s barely enough space to walk side-by-side, but they manage. Occasionally their shoulders brush, and Olivia merely clings tighter to her coat. They go a right, then a left, and then up a flight of steps, until another pair of double doors appears.

Cassandra looks at her with another careful grin before opening only one of them. She holds it for her, and Olivia glances at her with suspicion before walking inside. That suspicion melts into wonder as she enters a library hall. The tall shelves line the walls, only interrupted by tall, square windows. There’s a philodendron hanging off to one side, flourishing. The standalone rows of shelves match the dark wood on the walls. Books upon books fill the rows to the brim, and to the right there are study desks with lamps. The natural light coming in makes it all look like a portal into the 1940s.

She walks in and stomps her heel to a halt, mouth softly agape. Part of her wants to make a wisecrack, like ‘oh, is this where it’s all held before they burn it?’ but the part of her that prevails is curiosity.

“Why did I never see this room when I went here?” she spits out, turning around to face her. She leaning against the door frame, hands still in her pockets.

She shrugs. “It wasn’t here then. A couple years back the Church started housing missionaries, and they needed a place to study and hold meetings. My family is a patron of the Church, so, they helped furnish the renovation.”

“...Helped?”

Cassandra chuckles and steps in. “Alright. Pushed it. It’s one of the few things my family has done with their money that I don’t instinctively despise.”

“Are these all books on religion, then? Like, fifteen hundred different copies of the Bible?” Olivia looks at the closest shelf, trying to figure out for herself, but it’s just far enough for the spine titles to be unreadable.

“Very funny,” Cassandra stops a couple away “but no. They’re a lot of things. Religion, philosophy, law, poetics. Sometimes college and high school students borrow for their classes. I know some of the surrounding neighborhood kids come here to have a quiet place, too. It’s pretty neat.”

That is neat. Damn. Olivia looks at her and for the first time, genuinely smiles. No pretense, no clever quip. Just agreement. She remembers what it was like in the back of Cullen’s car, when they were still just small-talk and half-hearted laughs. That was what, a week ago? It feels like a month has passed.

“Is this where you bring all the ladies, then? To your cool little hideaway with hanging plants in the windows and a bunch of dead Greek men’s opinions at the ready?” She takes a risk in asking that. A gentle tease, but for someone not receptive to such an insinuation, a litmus test.

Cassandra blushes and rolls her lip. While she buffers, Olivia side-steps towards the shelf for a closer look. She lets a finger tug at a book -- something on the Middle Ages something-or-other, all the while her heart hangs on the response Cassandra is denying her. She holds the cover out to examine it, and footfalls sound off behind her.

“I come here to do assignments. Also to get away, if I am being honest,” she finally speaks, and her answer is not a correction to Olivia’s implication. Hopeful results indeed.

“It seems like an ideal hiding place,” she agrees, “does God provide wifi?”

“If God is AT&T, then yes.”

They look at each other, and Olivia quells a laugh in her throat. She has to hand it to her, she has a good sense of humor contrary to her stiff, formal exterior. Perhaps she has underestimated her.

“You know, I can’t really figure you out,” Cassandra changes the subject, thereby sliding the spotlight.

“What?” Olivia peers over her shoulder at her.

“I don’t know,” she frowns neutrally, shaking her shoulders again. “Agh, Nevermind.”

Olivia watches her as she places the book back on the shelf. She goes from exuding cool, some would even say strong-arm confidence, to falling back on her words. If anything, it’s Olivia that is left at a loss for figuring out her companion. But she won’t admit to that. That would mean she’d want to know in the first place. Instead, she swings around with a step and faces her again.

“In uh, in any case, since I see a deficit of weird men and Priests ready to douse me in Holy Water, I think you may have won a bet. So, Cassandra Pentaghast,” Olivia pulls at her dress on either side and makes a mock curtsy. “You have my profound apologies.”

“Thank you. I won’t say it was an easy feat.”

“Hah!” Olivia swings her foot to the left, preparing to walk away. Before she does though, she goes out on a limb and reaches out, taking Cassandra’s hand into hers. “Come on, show me around. There’s gotta be something vaguely socialist in here!” incessant in her teasing, but warmer this time.

Cassandra slouches, her head going back a bit as she grins. But she lets herself get pulled in, and for a moment all goes rosey and Olivia’s heartbeat skips. They’re gonna explore bookshelves, and pick out ones for each other, and argue, and quote excerpts, and somehow they’ll end up on the floor with stacks surrounding them, and someone will offer to order a pizza because hours have passed and they’re suddenly starving. Then they’ll argue over whether pepperoni is better with or without pepper flakes, and she’ll take her shoes off and walk on her toes across the wood. It’s gonna be fantastic, and maybe this once, she won’t sabotage the good time.

But then, A voice calls from the hall. Shit, had she spoken too soon? Was that her plan, to get the bet win and then impose the wrath of the Holy Church?

Cassandra flinches and falls back to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with her as a man comes in, their hands parting instantly. He’s also dressed head-to-toe in dark slacks, a dress shirt, but with the addition of a belt and polished men’s dress shoes. A man with an aged, calloused face and salt-and-peppered hair. He has sunglasses in his hands and a Rolex-looking watch on his wrist. He steps in imposingly.

“Cassandra. There you are,” he half-scolds, a heavier version of the accent that Cassandra has.

Cassandra’s voice stutters a bit. “Hello, Uncle.”

“Did you get any of my calls? We’re late for dinner. Who is this?” He motions his glasses at Olivia. Before either of them could answer, though, he does. “Wait...I know you. You’re the Sinclair’s daughter...O...Ophelia…?”

“Yes, my name is Olivia, Sir,” she says, disguising her unimpressed attitude with palatable manners. “I’m sorry, it was my fault. I kept Cassandra behind. I needed to return a book.”

Cassandra peers at her in muffled confusion, but does not correct her. Meanwhile, he gives Olivia the once-over, mouth open as he presses his tongue to his lower teeth. Not impressed. She knows all-too-well that face when people realize who she is. It’s no stranger. It still stings though.

“Right, well,” he nods. “Always a pleasure to see those of our flock that have gone wayward make their….necessary, returns.” Condescending prick. “Cassandra, the car is out back. Come on. I’m sure your friend can see herself out, or stay and continue to her...education.”

Olivia can feel the growing heat of resentment stewing beside her, but she keeps her cool.

“Alright, I will be down in a minute. Can I say goodbye at least?” Cassandra manages, calm but displeased.

He shoots her a concerned look, but steps back, clearly not all that invested in the intricacies of his niece’s misadventures when he could admonish her in private. Olivia is all-too-familiar with that method. He waves at her like he’s saying goodbye to a sales clerk or something, and leaves.

“So...that’s…”

“Yes.”

“Uh huh. Can I…”

“You can.”

She mutters in relief. “Asshole.”

Cassandra laughs under her breath and turns toward her. “That’s his thing, I’m sorry. He’s right though. I do have to go. I just…” she rocks back on her heels in a quick-paced rhythm as she bites her lip. “Does this mean I get another shot?”

“Another shot?”

A voice from faraway again. Him, probably saying her name. Cassandra looks but hardly wastes more than a second. “I can’t get into it now. Not here. I just…”

Olivia opens her mouth to say something,but she too struggles to find words. She does her best though, for the sake of reassurance. “I mean, totally. Yeah, we can be friends.”

Friends. Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

That’s all that’s needed, though, to make Cassandra grin, and her face beam a little bit more like it had before her Uncle interrupted them. “Good. I’ll text you. Uh, see you soon, then?”

“Yeah, for sure,” Olivia smiles. “Uh, you like hugs?”

“Um...oh, yeah, that’s fine.” They are timid at first. Olivia, oddly enough, opts to wrap her hands around Cassandra’s neck as opposed to the quintessential side-and-shoulder platonic model. It makes her stomach flip as Cassandra wraps her arms around her waist, and even though it lasts no more than a second or two, it’s enough to make her want to know what it’s like for an hour, not just a breath. She smells like that Old Spice. And her grip is so strong and careful at the same time.

And just like that, she’s out of her hold and walking out of the door. Leaving her, alone, in a Church -- in the DEPTHS of a Church -- and she didn’t have to kidnap her to do so. What kind of skills did this girl have up those pressed-and-tailored sleeves of hers?

All by her lonesome, Olivia looks around and then deflates. She goes to her phone and pulls up her fellow oath-keeper’s name, and sees a new message already waiting for her.

--Do I have to rescue you yet?

She giggles to herself, and types. Turns out Ellinor was waiting, and her response is instantaneous:

Olivia: --No. But I’m heading back to campus.

Ellinor: --Everything ok?

Olivia: --Yeah...I think??

Ellinor: --Wait, wtf?!

Olivia: --I’ll talk about it later.

She walks out into the hall, and just as she is about to go downstairs, her phone goes off again. This time, it’s Cassandra:

--Hi. Sorry, but, I have to be in this car for an hour. You have any song suggestions?

She smiles and bites her lip. This is a critical decision. Should she play it cool and send something technically good, but without implicit symbolism? Cassandra seems like the kind of person who likes more easygoing, measured tunes. Not heavy and raw, or dark and doom-wishing. She taps on her phone case for a second, blushes, and pulls up the Spotify link:

--Songs About Jane is always good to revisit. Start with track 12. Good luck!

She then goes to her own app and turns on the track, titled, “Sweetest Goodbye,” and continues her exit with headphones in.

#college au #adventures of ellinor and olivia #friend fic!#ellinor trevelyan #olivia sinclair #modern!olivia

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chuffyfan87 · 6 years ago

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The Things I Could Tell You.

Ever wondered why we never got to see Josh's best man speech?

-x-

Josh looked across the room at the happy couple as he took hold of the microphone. Duffy looked nervous, Charlie less so, though Josh surmised that could be because his friend was still slightly drunk from the previous night's hijinks. He knew that he certainly was!

He cleared his throat and adjusted his tie awkwardly. For so many years he'd been waiting, hoping he'd get the chance to do this but now it was time he was suddenly nervous. He took a deep breath.

"Well good evening everyone. For those of you who don't know I'm Josh. As best man it's my job to talk about the happy couple - Charles Fairhead and Lisa Duffin - Charlie and Duffy. In all the years I've known them when I think of one I instantly think of the other in the next thought. A bit like fish and chips or jelly and ice cream, great on their own but when combined - the perfect pairing."

He paused before a cheeky grin gradually formed on his face. "Right, now I've buttered them up with compliments, let's get to the juicy stuff shall we?" He remarked, eliciting a laugh from the guests.

Across the room Charlie could sense Duffy's building agitation at what Josh might reveal. He bent closer so that no-one else would hear as he whispered into her ear. "He knows you'll kill him if he says anything he shouldn't." He reassured her.

Duffy wasn't convinced. She rolled her eyes at him. "Well if that's the case then it's going to be a pretty short speech!" She retorted.

Charlie frowned at her response then smirked at her as he squeezed her hand before returning his attention back to Josh.

"Now where to start..? Having known the pair of them for close to twenty five years now there's plenty of stories I could tell you all..." He paused. "Note I said 'could' because despite them both being nurses it turns out they've got very deep pockets!"

Josh laughed at the disappointed groans that filled the room. "OK, OK!" He held up his hands in surrender.

"When Charlie told me that he and Duffy had gotten engaged the only thing that surprised me was how quickly it had happened, I mean, she'd only been back in the department a matter of months! I was thrilled though, 'About bloody time mate!' were my exact words!"

"I'd spent years listening as he chewed my ear off talking about her on nights out, no amount of whiskey could stop him sometimes. In fact, it often only made him worse! God knows I tried to get him to do something about it Duffy. Honestly."

"It all made sense, however, when Charlie confessed that it had actually been Duffy that had popped the question. She's always been the unpredictable type. Charlie frankly never really stood a chance!"

"So, like I said, it wasn't much a shock finding out they were together and planning to get married. Well, maybe it was to some of you lot, but not to me. Afterall, you don't know them as well as I do. To be honest, I don't know if that's a good or bad thing. There's such a thing as knowing two people a bit too well..!"

"So trust me when I tell you, those two getting thrown out of drinking establishments for drunken misbehaviour is not at all a new thing! In fact, I remember one time in the Plume of Feathers..."

Looking across the room Josh spotted Charlie and Duffy exchange a concerned look at the mention of that particular pub.

"Somehow the conversation got onto tricks that involved balancing shot glasses." He paused, a contemplative look on his face. "I must admit I'm curious as to whether the person concerned can still perform that trick now." He smirked.

Duffy's eyes went wide as Charlie whispered in her ear. "I'll have to get you try that again one night." He bit her earlobe. "Less clothes this time though, make it a bit trickier!"

Josh paused for a few moments but when no answer was forthcoming from the couple in question he continued. "Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, their drunken misbehaving!"

"Now I could tell you about the 'red wine incident'..." He pondered. "I think it might be the reason madam only drinks white wine these days." He reasoned, watching as her cheeks flushed scarlet.

"To this day I still don't know why we were drinking red wine but we were and it was quite late into the evening when Charlie and I walked back into the lounge to find a very drunk Duffy sat slumped next to a large red stain. Now you would've thought that after all his years of nursing Charlie would be able to tell the difference but he spent several minutes trying to work how she'd bled all over his brand new carpet but she was pretty incoherent by that point. It was only when he poked her abdomen and she puked all over his shirt that he finally realised what had happened!" He paused as everyone giggled at Charlie's mistake. "It took us a while to sober her up that night. But, I'm sure Charlie looked after you alright, eh Duffy?"

"I'm going to wrap this up shortly but before I do I'd like to take you all back to the first time I ever saw the two of them together. They were having a row, sorry, I mean 'professional disagreement'..." He corrected himself, shooting them both a pointed look.

"For all that he was her boss, she always won the argument." He remarked, eliciting chuckles from around the room. "Anyway, they were stood in the doorway of his office... What they were arguing about wasn't obvious. But, Charlie's reaction was clear. She can really wind him up. But, he never stayed mad at her for long." He smirked.

"Over the years I learnt to read the signs. He'd be going off like a rocket at her then all of a sudden the door would slam... Most people realised they just needed ten minutes alone in that office and then they'd be all sweetness and light with each other again!"

"Ten minutes? Thanks Josh!" Charlie muttered, sulking.

Duffy gave him a sympathetic look in response but she quickly began laughing at his disgruntled expression.

"I quickly learnt my lesson about interrupting, and they learnt their lesson about locking the door," He added pointedly. "after this one time when I walked in and..."

"Josh!" Duffy squealed anxiously.

Josh looked over and saw that Charlie was shaking his head and giving him the filthiest of looks.

"Um, right yeah...ha...so..." He stumbled over his words. "Put it this way, he always had a cheeky grin on his face whenever they were on shift together. He definitely preferred her in uniform."

"Trying to keep his eyes at the right level after a few whiskeys was a bit trickier however." He observed. "There was one dress in particular..."

He laughed as he saw Charlie start to blush. "I see you remember the one I'm talking about!"

"You know, I always thought it was black but I'm told it was actually dark navy. The dress that is. He'd know, afterall, he was always quite partial to her arse. Whatever colour it was wrapped in." Josh paused. "He certainly looked at it enough over the years!"

Everyone laughed as Duffy rolled her eyes at Charlie who was still blushing furiously.

"So as you can see, them being all sweetness and light is far from the truth. Which is why it was no surprise to me they got together, engaged and married so quickly, no surprise at all folks." He smiled and shrugged. "With nothing in their way any longer, they had no reason to hold back."

"And on that note, I have just one thing left to say before I go hide in the gents where Duffy can't get me! I'd like to propose a toast to the happy couple. I wish them love, happiness and that they never change because my life would be much duller if they did! To Charlie and Duffy!"

Everyone toasted their glasses. "To Charlie and Duffy!"

Josh placed the microphone down after finishing his drink. He walked across the room and as he placed his hand on the door to the toilets he heard a single word ring out above the general chatter that filled the room.

"Coward!"

Josh turned, laughed at his friends and disappeared through the door.

#chuffy #charlie and duffy #charlie fairhead #lisa duffin

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alittledizzy · 6 years ago

Text

in the strangest locations rating: pg word count: 3k Summary: Dan's first week on the job. (A prequel to Celebration.) Notes: Written for @waveydnp for my thirty minute fics for charity fundraiser to benefit PhandomGives.

[read on ao3]

The basement office smells of stale air and weirdly sweet, like the smell of Dan's grandmother's car when he'd leave a bag of sweets open in the summertime and they'd all melt together into a sticky sugar lump.

"Hello?" Dan calls out. His heart is tap-tap-tapping fast in his chest, the queasy beat of anxiety he can't shake in situations like this. His whole life so far has been about pushing past and working around this feeling, trying not to let it defeat him. It's the voice in the back of his mind and the sweat underneath his collar and the butterflies in his stomach. He's wondering if maybe this is the wrong office after all, or maybe it's the right office but his new partner isn't around, or maybe he-

"Oh, hi! You must be Dan!" A person pops out from behind a closed doorway. He's wearing a suit but there's a stain on his tie and one leg of his pants are rucked up enough that Dan can see a bright green sock, definitely not bureau standard. "Howell, I mean. Dan Howell?"

"Yeah," Dan says, holding out a hand. "And you're Lester?"

"Call me Phil," his new partner says, and closes Dan's fingers in the grip of his own. "It's nice to finally meet you."

Phil Lester is also British.

Dan had known that going in. He'd read Lester's - Phil's - file and then done what any millennial worth his salt does, and googled the fuck out of him. He knows where he's from and that he's got dual citizenship and that he likes leaving sometimes scathing hotel reviews.

He knows that Phil's last partner requested a transfer away from him, but the part of the file that listed why had been redacted. He's intensely curious; was being stuck with someone fresh out of Quantico a punishment for Phil?

Or was it a test for Dan?

If it was, he's not really sure what it's mean to accomplish because he's known Phil Lester for all of a day and all he has to show for it is a full belly - Phil values his lunch break and also values company while he takes it - and a growing sense of admiration for a man who seems to have been given the total shit end of the stick in terms of bureau assignments and still seems happy as a fucking clam about it.

It only takes two days for reality to settle in, consequently the same amount of time it takes for them to be given their first assignment as partners.

"We got a case!" Phil seems elated. "And I think this one got sent down to us especially for you?"

He slides Dan a folder. Dan picks it up and flips through it. "Phishing? We're investigating... an email fraud scam?"

"Yep." Phil still looks far too delighted. Dan doesn't get it. "Pacific Northwest. Oregon, I think?"

"Yeah," Dan mutters a confirmation, still skimming the file. "I don't get it. Shouldn't this be easy to shut down? This looks like your average Nigerian prince bullshit."

Phil shakes his head. "Keep reading."

Dan can feel his own brow wrinkling in confusing the more he gets into the file. "What?" He mutters, then a few seconds later more loudly, "What?"

"Yep." Phil grins. "It's fun, isn't it?"

"I mean, not if you're one of the people getting ripped off, but... how are they doing this?" Dan flips back to the start to see if he missed anything. "How did manage to phish seventeen high ranking cyber crimes assigned agents?"

Phil shrugs. "That's what we're supposed to figure out."

"So why us?" Dan asks, clipping the buckle of the airplane seatbelt together.

They're in economy. He's not sure why he's disappointed. When Phil said they were flying out that evening he'd pictured in his head some kind of Mission Impossible scene where they donned full suits and strode into business class wearing their sunglasses.

Instead Phil's in jeans and a hoodie and Dan feels overdressed in the button up and the same trousers he wore to the office.

"Because we won't be targets," Phil says. "I've not had any cyber crimes cases, and you're brand new so no one's going to have heard of you. The last three agents they put on the case of this guy all had their security breached before they checked into the motel in Oregon. They think we'll be able to go undetected. We're not technically undercover. We're just - not... overcover? Either? So... you might want to dress a bit less..."

Phil seems to flounder for a word.

"No worries," Dan says, face going hot as he feels every bit of his comparative youth and inexperience. "I brought some stuff."

He didn't actually bring some stuff.

He sits on the edge of his motel bed, staring at a stain on the carpet.

("Not much of a budget of us, I'm afraid," Phil had said, standing in the lobby area. It's an open plan, two long flat buildings parallel with doors all facing open air.

Everything about it feels seedy and cheap. It's not even properly in town, it's on the fringes where things begin to look a bit worn down.)

He's not sure what the protocol is now. Phil said goodbye to him in the car park, but - what happens next?

It's only half six. Does he get dinner on his own?

Does he meet back up with Phil tomorrow?

Is he meant to be doing something with the case file?

Why hadn't he fucking asked?

He has the strange urge to ring his mum just to hear a familiar voice, but he refuses to be the person who needs his mum to tell him that it's alright on his first week of being an actual employed theoretically functional career adult.

He could go get some clothes so he doesn't look like an idiot when he and Phil meet back up. He's got the keys to the rental car - which Phil, for some reason, put entire trust and faith in Dan to drive even though Dan's only six months past being old enough to legally hire a car to begin with. But what if Phil looks outside and sees the car gone? Should he just take an Uber instead, or call for a taxi? But then what if Phil came to his room and Dan wasn't there but the car was? What if Phil saw him being picked up, or dropped back off? What if-

He stands and starts to pace around the room. His heart is hammering too fast and he's got that queasy-sweaty feeling that he gets when everything starts to become just a bit too much.

He jumps at the knock on his door. When he opens it, Phil's standing there - still in the same soft looking hoodie with his hair pushed back off his forehead and glasses on, and fuzzy pajama pants from the waist down. "I can't believe it but we forgot to exchange mobile numbers. Also, do you fancy a pizza?"

"Pizza?" Dan asks.

Phil's smile falters a bit. "Unless you just wanted to do dinner on your own. I just thought-"

"No, pizza's good," Dan quickly says. "We could... talk about the case, too?"

They hadn't on the plane, of course. Sensitive, classified material.

Dan assumes.

"Great!" Phil says, shooting Dan one of those bright smiles. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

Dan changes into his own pajamas quickly before Phil comes back.

He can't be sure, having never actually had a partner before, but he's fairly sure pajama pizza parties aren't standard operating protocol on assignments.

But then Phil is sat cross-legged on the full sized bed chewing on what appears to be half a slice of pizza he just shoved into his mouth in one bite. "Sorry," he says, looking sheepish when he sees Dan staring. "I was really hungry, and this pizza's good."

It is good, actually, and if Dan can just relax for five goddamn seconds he might enjoy it. Instead his body feels full of jittery energy still. He folds one foot underneath him while the other rests on the floor, foot tap-tap-tapping away.

Phil pulls out the case files after a few minutes. There's not that much to talk about; they're here to monitor the situation and close in on the suspect once the bureau can get a lock on him.

"They wanted you," Phil says again, sounding almost proud.

Dan's not sure why that makes him feel so nice. "Why?"

"Your computer background," Phil says. "You specialized in profiling hackers, didn't you?"

"I specialized in whatever meant I got to spend most of my time alone," Dan says.

It's a bit of unintentional honesty, but it makes Phil laugh so he doesn't think it's that bad.

"What about you?" Dan asks, taking a bold step forward into casual conversation territory. "What's your specialty?"

"Linguistics," Phil says. "But I don't do much with it. Translations sometimes, but I'm sort of... I get the cases no one else wants."

"Like what?" Dan asks, settling back against the headboard.

"I had to investigate a comedian last year," Phil says. "Because someone reported one of his stand up bits. I had to track him for six months."

"Was he funny?" Dan asks.

Phil shakes his head. "Dead boring. All his jobs were about like, sleeping with women and disappointing his mum and sport."

"Not a fan of sport?" Dan asks.

"Or disappointing my mum," Phil says. "She gave birth to me, why would I want to call her stupid in front of people? Also she's not stupid. She probably heard me say that, using her mum senses. I wouldn't call you stupid, mum.."

Dan laughs. "I don't think she can hear you, but I believe you."

He thinks about the third thing Phil said the comedian talked about, and how Phil hadn't mentioned that at all.

But Phil's probably into women. Most guys are into women. Dan's really got to learn how to stop trying to project non-straightness on every man that talks to him for more than three seconds.

Especially his new partner at this job that, if all goes well, he'll be at for a very long time.

The rain starts around midnight.

Phil's been gone for an hour, the pizza demolished and the case discussed and almost another hour of random conversation layered on top of and in between the two.

It was nice. Like - proper nice, in a way Dan hadn't expected.

Phil's funny, and kind, and talking to him already makes Dan feel less scared.

The rain can fuck off, though. It's pounding against the windows, only drowned out every few minutes by massive cracks of thunder.

He can't take his eyes off the silhouette of trees across the way when the lightning strikes to accompany it. Framed by tall trees and threatening clouds, it looks like the setting of a horror movie out.

He hates storms at night. He won't sleep much, he already knows. He keeps the light turned on and his laptop up, distracting himself with music until he can't focus anymore and then watching youtube videos of fluffy animals.

It's fine - it's working. He'll be exhausted the next day, but he lives half his life deprived of adequate sleep. Adrenaline will save the day. It's fine, he's fine.

And then the power goes out.

He's shivering in front of Phil's hotel room, soaking wet from the dash across the half-full parking lot.

He doesn't even know what he's going to say when Phil answers.

That he's a fucking child and he's afraid of the dark?

He should just pack his shit up right now, go back home and tell everyone he couldn't do it. None of them thought he'd really be able to anyway. Even his nana, his biggest supporter and fan, made sure to tell him at least twice a year that failure's not the end.

They won't be surprised that he couldn't even hack it a week.

He feels sick and scared and ridiculous but self preservation kicks in two seconds after he knocks. His stomach lurches and he takes a step back, then another, and starts to walk away. He wishes there were a corner to turn, some way to hide.

Phil catches him before he gets too far. "Dan?"

He sounds sleepy. Of course he was asleep. It's fucking one in the morning.

"Uh." Dan turns around. "The power's out."

"Oh - wow." Phil frowns and looks behind him. "You're right. I slept through it."

"Sorry," Dan mumbles. "I'll just-"

He waves a hand, but just as he starts to walk away again thunder crashes. It's chased by lightning only seconds later, shockingly close.

Dan shrieks and drops his phone. "Fuck. Fuck!"

Phil steps out into the rain and grabs Dan's phone for him. There's naked concern in his eyes. "Come inside."

Dan stands dripping in front of Phil's door until Phil comes over with a towel.

What a fucking mess. He's a fucking mess.

"Here," Phil says, handing him a bundle of dry clothes. "You can change in the toilet. I always bring extras, anyway."

Dan slinks into the toilet. Every bit of him is drenched, hair and shirt and pants and socks. He leaves them in a soggy pile on Phil's floor, only keeping his pants on. He can live with that level of dampness.

When he steps back out, he's got apologies on his tongue but Phil speaks for he even has the chance.

"It's awful out there." Phil peers out the window. "It's probably good you came over here. My phone's almost dead, I'd only just plugged it in before I slept. Here's yours, by the way. You've got a bit of a scratch in the corner but I tried to clean the mud off."

"Oh," Dan says. He'd forgotten he'd even dropped it. He takes it from Phil. "Thanks."

"Did you-" Phil starts to ask something, then stops. "Are you alright?"

His face looks so, so kind. It's almost enough to break Dan.

"I'm okay," Dan says, nodding more to himself than Phil. "It's just a lot."

"It is," Phil agrees. He sits down on the bed and pats the spot beside him. "Come on, have a seat. Keep me company until the power comes back.

Phil wants Dan to keep him company. Phil, who surely can see the state that Dan is in, who can surely see how much Dan is struggling, is asking Dan to keep him company.

There's not much in the world that he's got any faith in, but in that moment he suddenly finds he has faith that Phil Lester is not going to make him feel as awful as most of the people he suffered through his Academy years with always did.

Dan wakes up with an ache in his neck from sleeping half propped up against the pillow. He's cold - body on top of the blankets of Phil's bed, still wearing Phil's pajamas.

He looks over. Phil's properly in bed, having apparently gotten under the bedding some time after Dan fell asleep.

He can't remember how many hours they stayed up talking, but by the time Dan's body did wear itself out the storm had faded off into a light patter of rain and the sun was threatening to come out. They didn't even talk about anything important - their respective childhoods in England, Quantico stories, Phil's seemingly endless recollections of strange and esoteric cases that have been given to him. The last thing he recalls if Phil grilling him on what his mum's dog Colin is like.

Apparently Phil really, really likes dogs.

Dan gives him one more look then gingerly gets out of bed and walks into the bathroom, collects his wet clothes, and retreats back to his own motel room.

He gets another three hours of sleep in his own bed before Phil's knocking wakes him up.

He's prepared for some kind of awkwardness, but instead Phil's fully dressed and smiling brightly. "I hope you've enjoyed our fantastic stay in Oregon."

"What?" Dan's confused.

Phil just shrugs. "They got him. They want us back home today."

"I can't believe we didn't even have to do anything," Dan says.

Local police made the arrest, and higher ranking field agents descended to take him in. Now he and Phil are sat on a plane back to DC.

Dan's full of restless energy, but in a different way than before in the motel room. Now he's just sort of disappointed that this was his first real case and the actual case part was... non-existent. All that hype and nothing to show for it. He wants a refund on the amount of emotional energy he's spent anticipating this.

Phil shrugs. "Sometimes assignments are just like that. It's not really like it is on television. Sometimes the agent who saves the day is behind a computer on the other side of the country. Is that... what you wanted, though? Excitement and like, guns and stuff?"

"Not really," Dan admits. "The guns freak me out."

He's still wearing Phil's extra hoodie from the night before. It's cozy, and he firmly pushes away that faintly giddy feeling inside that comes with wearing the clothes of an attractive man that he is rapidly realizing he mind find himself liking quite a lot.

He also pushes away the memory of Phil asleep in bed beside him. He's probably straight, Dan thinks. He probably thinks Dan is straight too. He's only got room in his head for one crisis, and not being an embarrassment as a special agent has to take precedence right now.

Phil is giving him one of those pleasantly surprised looks. "Me too," he says. "I'm also really bad at them. I'm a horrible shot. My last partner - he requested off me. Thought I was, I believe the exact words were, a fucking weirdo who has no place in the bureau."

Dan looks at Phil. He can see right away that Phil's struggling a bit with what he's saying.

"Jesus," Dan says.

Phil shrugs a bit, just a lift of one shoulder. "I don't try to be, but I suppose maybe I am. So if you want... if it doesn't end up... working out. It's alright. You do have options, they won't - they wouldn't question it, I think, if you wanted to transfer away."

"No." The pang of emotion Dan feels is as solid as a punch. He meets Phil's gaze directly and says, with almost a note of defiance in his voice, "I think this is going to work out just fine."

#phan #phanfic #thirty minute fics for charity

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