#found this on tenor dot come

[superchat]

[alt-wannabe]

MCSR Marching Band AU

back at it again with wildly specific au's based on the shit i do irl. i've been in band for 10 years (jesus) and marching band for 7- being the tenor sax section leader both my senior year of high school and now my senior year of college.

i had some help with this one from @s3er :3

more under the cut! warning there's a LOT

Nerdi is the drum major! He's in charge of conducting the whole band and specifically helping the center snare keep a steady tempo. He's reliable to a fault and is able to keep his conducting at the proper pace pretty much no matter what (or no matter how hard some of the band members try to distract him). He can also march pretty well on the odd occasion he's not conducting (usually during pregame) and he can do some pretty cool mace tricks. His backbend with the mace is practically all the way to the ground.

Fein is the center snare. He works directly with Nerdi to keep a steady tempo. Drum major and center snare are the structural support of the entire band- without either of them tempo tends to fall apart and the show follows quickly after. He's drumline captain as well and can competently play any drumline instrument (and a good fair few wind instruments as well). One of the band members who does DCI (crazy intense travel drum corps) in the summer.

Guard Section Courtesy of @s3er !

Cube's main equipment would be rifle but he'd also be extremely good at flag, sabre, and dance. he just happens to be the best at rifle out of all of those. during marching band season he would probably be at the front a lot of the times. his consistency, versatility, and experience would make him a very good captain and during practices he would probably often get stuck teaching freshman flagline because he already mastered his own choreo+movement and he'd probably be very good at that as well even if he found it frustrating

Fruit likes flag the most because it's big and colorful and fun :] but since he's so good at weapon that's usually the line he gets placed in during marching season. winterguard has more leeway, since everything is smaller he's more able to do his own thing. for guard, marching season can be very "we know what we want the guard to do this season, just do that" while winterguard is more like, if fruit comes up with some wacky trick they can absolutely find a way to fit that in the show. if there's a dance/gymnastics solo though that would go to him

Zye is a sabre demon and probably a captain just because of how much experience he has but he would do the least amount of captain shit. except that he would be very good at instantly spotting how someone is doing choreo wrong and or why they can't get something and helping them. he makes sabre look easy, like that shit is made of plastic and not cold hard death metal that wants to break all your toes and i hate him for that. he picks up on everything extremely quickly and can make anything looks fluid and effortless

everyone say tysm to s3er for these blurbs! the guard insight was def needed and also super interesting to hear about!

Fulham is a clarinet player- specifically bass clarinet if the band decides to march them and section leader (bass clarinet is the birch tree of instruments just look at it). Absolute GOD at drill- both teaching and marching himself. Everyone in the clarinet section is never an inch off of their dot (assigned spot on the field) and they always take the exact correct path w/ the exact step size between positions. He also helps the directors write the show drill on occasion.

Couri plays mellophone! Mello's have a reputation in some bands for not being heard- Couri is NOT one of those mellos. Not only does he play loud, but he plays WELL and if a show has a mello solo it's going to him. He practices the most out of the whole band and if you're looking for him before or after school you'll either find him on the field or in a practice room. Does DCI with Fein- they go out for the same corps.

Silverr plays baritone. Also a DCI participant but he's usually in an opposing corps to Fein and Couri. Basically all of the baritones I know are super chill (I share a section with them in my marching band). Silverr can play a couple of instruments so his marching choice can vary from year to year- baritone is the usual pick though. He's one of the stronger bassline players in the band and the directors try to have him towards the center of the field so he's easily heard by not only the audience but also the other band members. Always has his music memorized early enough that his section can listen to him play for a solid guide.

Reign plays alto and tenor sax. He prefers alto but if the band is lacking in tenors he can switch over. He can also play trumpet and that's his instrument in his drum corps with Silverr (because they don't take woodwinds). Altos have a reputation for being outgoing and he enables the stereotype. His section finds him easier to talk to than the "official" alto section leaders so he ends up fielding a lot of the underclassmen's questions. He pretty frequently gets solos if the altos are ever given any. (side bar for a cool alto part listen to the Miya Twins theme from haikyuu. The bassline underneath is supposed to represent the consistent and collected twin while the alto part represents the more experimental and wild twin. Sound familiar?)

Dylqn plays trombone. Has hit someone with his slide on a move before, will hit someone with his slide on a move again. The type to make a joke during an attention pose and get the people around him in trouble for laughing. That being said he's an extremely talented musician and marcher. The directors can almost never get mad at him for goofing around because when he locks in he's absolutely a pillar of the entire band. The thing about him being good though is it means it was absolutely on purpose when he hit Fein with his slide.

Mime plays tenor sax (WOOOOOO BEST INSTRUMENT) and is a section leader. His main skill is choregraphing out complex moves and he helps the directors/fulham with drill. When I say complex moves I mean like this shit where everyones walking through each other and one wrong step equals a collision (5:18 in this video. note this is DCI and not a regular marching band so this whole show is a lot more than the average band is gonna do). Not only is Mime good at running through them himself, he can explain the moves well enough that everyone is able to make the move safely. He plays bassoon outside of marching band.

Poundy plays sousaphone. Loves to brag about playing the biggest instrument on the field which is lowkey fair because sousi is HARD. That being said he has full bowled Couri over at least once. No instruments or people were hurt amazingly but the argument that happened afterwards was generational. Poundy is one of the people that has no trouble making friends outside of his section as he's super easy to talk to. Some people tend to stay in their section at band but he is very much so not one of these people. He also plays LOUD which is important for a bassline player.

that's all ive thought through for now but ill likely have some more thoughts on this in the future. my ass is STRUGGLING with fulham's d&d mini right now but trust it's in the works (his hair and glasses are not really in heroforge so im having to improvise to make it not look weird). hope yall enjoyed me yapping for the length of a feinberg post event essay

[cookiesupplier]

Hell Ain't So Bad - Part Twelve (nsfw)

pairing: Noah Sebastian x ofc (Ellie), 

warnings/tropes: slow burn, smut, angst, fluff, mentions of death, mentions of torture, thoughts of religious ideology, minor violence and swearing.

summary: Ellie was lost in the world, homeless with no idea what to do and nowhere to go.. Who would have thought that one day, she’d end up working in hell itself.. And what does this even mean?

author’s note: Unbetaed, readers beware.. smut is included in this chapter.

tags: @spicywhenspeaking @bngurngheart @cncohshit @valiantroeagleangel @blackveilomens @dominuslunae @tearfallpixie @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @wild-child-7747 

Tags are open feel free to ask.

Folio had actually pouted like an overgrown puppy when he found out that Ellie had made Jolly dinner the night before and hadn’t invited him over! Nevermind that she knew he’d gone out to a bar for drinks.

“Well if I’d known coming over for dinner was an option I’d have changed my plans, text next time! Oh, I’ll be there.”

She counted the fact that he had hoovered down the container that she’d brought him for lunch and loved it, and asked what he could do to finagle dinner tonight? He’d bring dessert and booze, how about that? Ellie had smiled at the thought, and said she would love to, but couldn’t tonight as she was already handing out with.. With Noah..

Folio had almost fallen out of his chair hearing that and agreed that they could take a rain check, provided that they hear everything that happened on their ddaattteeeee, Ellie had rolled her eyes and told him to dream on, it wasn’t a date, they were just hanging out. They hadn’t called it a date…

They hadn’t. They really hadn’t.

Besides, she wasn’t sure she should really be dating a demon lord when she had no idea how long she was going to be here properly, she had to go back to the normal world at some point. Then there was the fact that after Noah had agreed to hanging out with her, she’d spiralled back and forth about the fact that Jolly had implied that Noah was actually centuries old. What did she do with that?

All the same, she’d finished work, avoided beating up any souls, especially considering she didn’t have her bat yet, and wouldn’t at least for a few more days apparently.. She looked forward to it arriving with some of the assholes that came through with them. Really, why they thought they could get out of dealing with the aftermath of their actions by flirting with her, or worse, abusing her.. As if being assholes now made up for being assholes while they were alive? Sure okay, lets go with that.

Going back to her apartment, she had no clue what Noah had planned to do tonight.. Pulling out her phone..

Ellie: What should I wear? Ellie: Any hints what are going to be doing?

Sitting on her bed, she waited, watching the screen, watching the dots appear, finally showing that Noah was replying to her message, okay, okay..

Noah: No hints. Noah: Dress comfortable.

Frowning at the screen, that’s it? That’s all that’s all he was going to give her? Rolling her eyes, she needed more here. She was trying, okay, maybe what she really wanted to know was a question she wasn’t willing to ask. What she really wanted to know was if this was a date, if Noah wanted this to be a real date and all, did he want that, or was he just playing silly buggers and teasing her?

If he wasn’t going to give her even a hint, a tiny one?

Ellie: Really, not even ONE hint?! Warm? Cold? Anything. Noah: It’s the afterlife, weather is always as predicted. Perfect. Noah: Dress however you like. Noah: Six. BabyGirl. Be Ready.

Swallowing, nope, she quickly clicked the screen dark seeing that right there, not even wanting to think about the fact that even in text form, she could hear his voice calling her that far too clearly. She almost wished she still was hungover and didn’t remember the first time he’d said it at the door, the rough tenor of his voice, and the way it had made her thighs press together, and her how wet it had made her.. Fuck. She needed a shower now.

By six o’clock, she was ready, casual he said, jeans, shirt, jacket, nothing special, but she tried to make sure she looked at least a little bit nice. For one, a tiny bit of makeup, her hair done a touch, washed with a bit of bounce to it. Making sure it was sitting nicely in the mirror as she heard the knock at the door, Ellie quickly went to answer it, finding Noah on the other side with a bright smile at the sight of him there, she couldn’t help it.

“Six O'clock, on the dot, good to know you’re punctual.”

Smirking a little, but after a moment, the expression relaxed into a smile, and she noted that he seemed different like this. More at ease, then when he’d come into the bar two nights ago. He wasn’t dressed all in black this time, just a simple t-shirt and cargo pants, as casual as she was, reaching up, he brushed his fingers through his hair. They looked so luscious, they looked like they’d be softer than hers and for a second she was envious, wishing she could run her fingers through it right then and there.. But she resisted.

“Ready to go?”

Nodding quickly,

“Yes, let me just get my jacket.”

Even if the weather was supposed to be perfect, she’d rather be safe than sorry, at least a light jacket. It was just a hoodie jacket, and she could always take it off if she got too warm. Heading back to her apartment, she grabbed her jacket, pulled it on, and then they headed out.

After they grabbed some burritos for dinner, tonight it would seem, was casual as promised, it was about getting to know each other, Noah took her to the entrance to… a portal?

“Where are we?”

Noah smiled as he stopped his car, however he didn’t get out yet.

“We’re at a training dimension for demons, well, demons that work in my field anyway. Some demons are more inclined to work in other fields and they’ll learn different things obviously, a demon that works in a bar, wont need to learn how to fight, and torture.”

Glancing to her, he paused,

“Does it frighten you, BabyGirl, that I torture people?”

Ellie looked over to him, blinking slightly as she studied his face carefully, she wished she could see it, his demonic self underneath, see what he thought she couldn’t handle within him.

“No, it doesn’t. If anything it makes me feel better knowing you’re keeping people that are potentially horrible people at bay. I’m hoping they only send the worst of the worst to you, considering you are a demon lord now and all.”

He grinned at that, the expression rather feral, and it had her mouth going dry at the sight.

“I do enjoy getting to handle the special cases personally. Though there are some lower ranking souls that I take special interest in. Ones that have hurt people I care about. For instance, Jolly and Folio have both been harmed in their lives, and I will take care of those souls personally the day they come through the gates. They are on my list. When they cross the threshold, I will be alerted.”

Oh, oh, that was a delightful thought.

“So, why are we here?”

“Ah, well, I heard from Nicholas that you’re acquiring yourself a bat, and I decided if you are going to use a weapon BabyGirl, you better know how to use it, properly. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if you hurt yourself.”

Ellie just chuckled at the thought,

“A baseball bat is not that hard to use, Noah, you just swing and make sure you hit the other person.”

He tsked slightly,

“As someone whose very job involves weaponry and torture, let me assure you, anything, including non-weapon items, can be dangerous, so you using an item that is a weapon, and thinking it is easy? Not going to happen, BabyGirl. Come on, you either take a lesson with me, or I'll have Nicholas confiscate the bat.”

Climbing out of the car with that, Ellie gasped in shock as she quickly undid her seatbelt to follow him in scrambling to get out of the car. Protesting the claim as if he had any say in whether she got to use the bat just because he got to lord over a bunch of demons, that was unfair!

“It was Nicholas' idea to get me the bat!”

Come on, how unfair was it that he could just say something little to the other demon and have things all switched around and pull the rug out from under her? It was just a baseball bat, and she’d already order it!

“Just one lesson Ellie, that's all I’m suggesting.. One weapons lesson. Aim, strength, I’ll talk you through it, you’ll be fine.. And it’s human qualifying, I swear.”

Walking up towards the portal, she followed even if she wasn’t happy he thought he could push her into this, but mostly, she was curious about it. Honestly, she just wanted to say no on principle, not on the fact that she didn’t want to do it. She didn’t like that he thought he could hold her plans for her bat over her head to make her do it.

Getting to the portal she looked at him and stopped.

“No.”

“No?”

“No. Ask nicely. I don’t want to do this if it's a threat. You want to do this because you think it’ll be fun, or you think it’ll be good for me, fine, I’m interested, I’ll admit that, but I refuse to do it because you’re threatening my bat. You want to hold my life over my head, I will walk away, steal my bat from Nicholas later, and shove right up your a-”

“Okay!”

He was smirking as he stopped her rant, Noah really did like that fire in her. Still, despite it, he’d thought he might need to push her to even consider the weapons training, most humans didn’t really think using weapons on other people to be something that they should know how to do, which was why he had pushed with the bat threat in the first place. Not that it was about using them on other people, it was about using them at all, consider this the weapon version of self defense.

Stepping closer to her at the edge of the dimension portal, his hand reaching for her and wrapping his hands around her waist with a squeeze.

“Ellie, BabyGirl, will you let me teach you how to use some basic weapons?”

Her whole body felt warm under his touch when he touched her, but she couldn’t think about that, not right then.

“Okay, lead the way.”

Walking through the portal was extraordinary, it felt like an out of body experience, and for a second she felt like she was going to throw up, and it took her almost five minutes for her head to stop spinning. Noah’s hand rubbing up and down her back gently to sooth her as she came back to herself, it was official, she hated portals, even as he promised that she would get used to them the more she used them. The first few times she used them, she’d adjust, hearing that just made her glare at him, and he’d chuckled in response.

The weapons training area was mostly empty considering the time, most of the demons trained during the day, those that were there were training on their own, like them. Those that were there were throwing fugitive glances their way, no, correction, glances Noah’s way. It was obvious that it was often that the Demon Lord himself personally came and trained someone down here, especially not a poor little living human. So she would take what she could get.

Noah showed her a few different types of weapons, helped her test them out safely so she would accidentally hurt herself, and practised a few different moves with each one as she went. Sword, mace, a pike, he even tried her with some axe throwing towards a target along the way.

He stood behind her at that point, close behind her, his chest pressed right against her back, his hands adjusting her hips,

“You need to adjust your stance and make sure you follow through, BabyGirl, careful of the grip on the handle.”

Guiding her through the axe throw, his hand moving up the side of her body, up along her shoulder, down her arm to show her how to hold the axe, move her arm, and then release. He guided her through the motion, and as he did, Noah could practically feel the tension coming off of her in waves as she pressed back against him as the axe flew through the air and hit the target..

“Good Job, BabyGirl.”

She didn’t care about the fucking axe anymore, not when his words washed over her, her thighs clenching together, and she leaned back against him with a low moan,

“Noah.”

A low rough chuckle came from behind her then,

“Oh you like that, don’t you?”

She gasped deeply, knowing that there were other people around, not many, but some, others could see them, but then one second they were there, and the next Noah had teleported them back to her apartment and he had them sitting on her couch..

A moan escaped her when his fingers were expertly unfastening the front of her jeans to slip inside of her panties, the moment they came in contact with the warmth of her skin he groaned at what he found.

“Fuck, look at you, already so wet.”

Noah's fingers stroked over her slit collecting the slick of her arousal, teasing her, Ellie arched her hips up into his touch with a whine as he smirked and gave in. Two of his long slender fingers slid into her, pressing into her pussy, so warm, so wet. She offered no resistance to him, now, he growled low, watching her every expression, wanting to see the pleasure crossing her features every moment with how she clenched around his fingers immediately as he curled his fingers into her, searching for that perfect little spot, then when she lit up with a gasp, he pressed and drew out the delicious loud moan from her.

“There we go, BabyGirl.”

She sounded so perfect like this, just as he had imagined.

Noah had been able to smell the lust coming off of her in waves the longer they trained, the closer he got to her, the more he touched her, helped her, corrected her stance.. He hadn’t reacted, it was important, and the fact she’d showed him complete and utter respect despite her desire made him so fucking proud… but now, now he was going to give her what she wanted. The pleasure she had been begging for from the moment she’d seen him pick up that first sword when they’d walked into the training circle. Ellie as grasping his shoulders as her hips rocked against his hand, his thumb immediately finding her aching clit rubbing in circles and she cried out as he started to fuck into her with those sinfully long fingers of his,

“Noah, Noah, please.”

Oh to hear her beg like that was music to his ears, and while he would love to give her so much more, he was far to enrapt right now watching his fingers disappear into her body. She looked so perfect like this. Her pants pulled down around her thighs, spread for him, his fingers pressed into her tight heat as she arched her hips, so desperate for more, so desperate for him. She looked like a work of art.

“Oh, being so good for me BabyGirl, are you going to cum for me now, show me how much of a good girl you can be?”

She whimpered as she bit her lip, her eyes dark as she looked to him, practically riding his hand right there, no, this wasn’t going to take her long at all she was already so worked up. Her hands gripping him, grounding herself as she moaned, leaning forwards, her lips finding his, kissing him and swallowing down a cry as with her cumming apart on his fingers. Noah pumped his fingers inside of her and let her ride out her orgasm wanting to feel every last little bit of her pleasure, licking into her mouth, tasting her tongue..

And then when her body stilled, and she gasped for breath to calm herself slowly, she gazed up to him as his fingers slid out of her. She watched him as lifted his fingers to his lips and tasted her again with a moan..

“Fuck, BabyGirl, so perfect.”

Dividers: @saradika-graphics (stained glass) & @cafekitsune (MDNI)

[jpitha]

Hidden Depths 20

Awakenings 1 2 3 4 Hidden Depths 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19Hidden Depths: A Side Story Hidden Depths: Another Perspective

Ta'reni and Nilan looked up nervously. The Grand Council was 4 K'laxi that represented all of K'laxikind when decisions about the group as a whole needed to be made. One represented K'lax itself, one the K'laxi stationed on ships and starbases, one each for the colony plants Ishi and Calumbri. They were very old, and wore very elaborate hooded robes with designs and flourishes to indicate the people they supported.

The Councilwoman for the ships and starbases wore a midnight blue robe with sparking dots and her shoulders looked like a pressure suit. The head Councilman, the one representing K'lax itself wore blue-green robes, the color of the greenery on K'lax. His robe had a leaf motif. Ishi's Councilman had sky blue robes, the color of the sea and the sky on Ishi and had a wave pattern in the fabric, and the Calumbri Councilwoman had slate grey robes representing the mineral wealth found on the planet. Her robe sparkled and shone in the shafts of light in the chamber.

The head of the council peered at them from their table high above Ta'reni and Nilan and looked over at the guard stationed by the door.

"Leave us." He said in a clear tenor voice. His accent was impeccable and Nilan wondered to herself where he learned such good Colonic.

The Guard saluted K'laxi style, then tuned on his heel and exited through the ceremonial door. The closed behind him with a boom in the silence.

For two beats, nothing happened. Then, the K'laxi on the end - the Councilwoman for ships and starbases - pressed a button at her space on the table. Nilan's ears popped and she felt stuffy.

"There. The silence field has been engaged." She said. "We can speak freely." She looked at them. "Now then. Ta'reni, when were you going to call home? Do you know how worried your familial group is? You haven't sent a message - not even a text message - in more than three months!"

Ta'reni blinked. This was not how she expected the meeting to start.

"I-I-I'm sorry Councilwoman..." She stuttered. "I've been b-b-busy with my work and..." Her eyes snapped over to Nilan, and then back to the Councilwoman.

The Councilwoman noticed her eye. "Oh? You have a girlfriend now? Too busy to call home? Too busy to introduce us?"

"Us?"

She removed her hood, revealing an elder K'laxi with a coloration that - while muted through age - was clearly the same as Ta'reni's. Her earrings were a more elaborate version of the ones she wore as well."

"AUNTIE LE'RENI?" Ta'reni did nothing to hide her shock. Nilan turned and faced her "Who?"

Ta'reni gestured at her "That's my aunt Le'reni! She's in my familial group! She used to take me to creche every morning!"

Le'reni nodded "Among other things, and still you were too busy with your new life to come and talk to your elders about the time you're having." She might be gently rebuking Ta'reni, but her eyes shone.

"I'm sorry Auntie-er Councilwoman La'reni. You're right of course that I should have called or sent a video home, but first I was overwhelmed at Starbase, then I met Nilan who was so nice and helpful, then I got buried in work, and now the attack..." She sighed. "I'm sorry. Once this is all done, we will take a trip and visit."

Satisfied, La'reni nodded. The Council for K'lax looked at them and with a solemn and serious tone asked "Do you play Niferian?"

Nilan blinked. "I'm sorry sir, I don't know what that is?"

Ta'reni turned to her and quietly said. "It's a card game. I know the basics." Turning back to the Grand Council she answered. "Nilan doesn't know, but I know the basics. I can teach her."

"Wonderful! I do so tire of having the same partners. Let's set up a game. Three teams of two."

****

Nilan picked up the game easily. It was a cooperative card game where the goal was to help everyone else get their points. The team with the lowest score at the end of the round was the winner and dealt the next round. After 3 or 4 rounds Ta'reni finally got up the courage to say "But, what about our plea to the Council?"

"Well, we're right here aren't we?" The Councilman for Ishi said, as he shuffled the cards "What is your issue?"

"The Joint Human/K'laxi starbase is under attack. A splinter group of humans from their planet Venus have declared autonomy over all of human space and have subjugated Earth. Now they are moving out to the colony worlds and declaring rulership over them as well."

"They also have declared our AIs to be non-sapient and are enforcing that determination through force." Nilan added.

"Hmm. That is serious." The Councilman for K'lax looked up from his cards at them both. "Did they actually attack Starbase?"

"Yes sir. They fired missiles. The in-system ships jumped to our defense so at the time of our departure there was no hits, but we have not heard from them since."

"And the colony Zen'ma'gan's Reach?"

Nilan answered. "I understand they requested assistance from a dropship to evacuate them. The colony was not very large and it was thought they could shelter on board."

He nodded. "Zen'ma'gan's Reach is much too dry for us. We were going to explore disbanding the colony in a few years. The joint Starbase was much more important for Human/K'laxi relations anyway."

Nilan was concentrating on her cards and her face brightened. "Hah!" She said. "3 for you, 4 for you, 6 for you, 1 for you and 5 for Ta'reni" she handed cards to everyone. "That's my hand and I have no points this round. Perfect score!" She beamed.

La'reni looked surprised. "A perfect hand? You picked up this game quickly. Are you sure you've never played before?"

"Never, Councilwoman."

"Impressive. Okay then, you deal."

Ta'reni looked lost. "But...what about..."

The Councilwoman from Calumbri looked at Ta'reni kindly. "Don't worry Ta'reni, we'll help. La'reni would have our fur if we didn't."

At that, La'reni grinned.

"But, is this how..." She gestured "How our major decisions are made?"

"Ta'reni, by the time they reach us the decision is mostly made already." The Councilman for K'lax said. "We're very respected and an important part of K'laxi culture, but we don't do much. Did you think that us 4 made all the decisions for K'laxi kind?"

"I-I-I-" Ta'reni stuttered.

"Child, it's fine. We're not going to be all booming voice and slamming hammers against doors." The Councilwoman from Calumbri said. "That's mostly for the tourists."

"Besides, Vivenni already gave us her report. We had decided to assist if you came and asked anyway." La'reni said.

Nilan and Ta'reni looked surprised. "Vivenni talked to you?"

La'reni nodded. "Yes, she's one of ours, in fact." She touched a panel on her wrists and spoke. "Please send Vivenni in."

While Nilan dealt another hand, a small side door opened and a K'alxi walked in. She was well dressed in black, middle aged and wore elaborate earrings anodized black and red instead of the polished silver Ta'reni and La'reni wore. As she approached she said "So you finally found two more for your game?"

"Yes, Ta'reni made the smart decision to come with her girlfriend so now we finally have an even number of players." The Councilman for K'lax said without looking up from his cards.

"Pardon me for working alone then Honored Councilman." She said, scoffing gently.

Nilan looked up. "You're Vivenni? Gord sent us to apologize to you. He's sorry he had Hat kick you out without further explanation. He was worried it was going to turn into "an AI thing" and didn't want you wrapped up in it."

Vivienne's face softened at Gord's mention. "That old so and so. So obsessed with making sure that he's not causing trouble for BIs that he forgets that we want them to succeed and want to help too. Did you take a bottle of syrup?"

Ta'reni nodded excitedly. "I did. I can't wait to have some pancakes and try it."

Vivenni smiled. "It's an excellent vintage. I think you'll really enjoy it."

La'reni watched the interaction. "Well then, it's good that we all got together. Look at the things we're accomplishing. Vivenni, will you and Nilan and Ta'reni go over your findings and see where they align and where they differ? After this hand of course, I feel lucky."

After the game, Nilan, Ta'reni, Vivenni and La'reni went over what they knew. Ta'reni and Nilan were able to give some of the details of the attack that Vivenni lacked, while Vivenni was able to give them more background on Venus. It turns out the K'laxi knew about Venus for the last 5 years and were waiting for them to make a move and officially declare that they were in charge.

"So will K'lax be dealing with Venus from now on?" Nilan asked.

Vivenni shrugged "They're in charge. The fact that they got that way by force is unfortunately immaterial to us. Our relations with the colony worlds and the OPA will strengthen I imagine, but when we have to deal with humanity as a whole-" She put finger quotes around the word humanity. "-we will probably be dealing with Venus."

"What about the AI thing? The fact that they want to control and shackle AIs." Ta'reni looked worried.

Vivenni shrugged. "Officially? That's a human thing and not our concern. Technically our own AIs aren't declared sapient either." She looked down at her pad and back at them. "Though we know about Chloe and her work. We haven't said anything because we're curious about what will happen when and if our AIs petition us. The Grand Council is sympathetic and frankly bored." She chuckled "I think they want them to petition for sapience just to see how everyone will react."

Nilan raised an eyebrow. "What about unofficially?"

"Unofficially it's barbaric and the council hates it and it's also part of the reason why you're getting assigned command of a K'laxi battle cruiser and their supporting craft."

"WE'RE WHAT?" Ta'reni shouted.

The Councilman of K'lax looked up from his pad. "Oh, so you told them?" He smiled.

La'reni chuckled. "I told our our Ta'reni was a bit high strung."

The Councilman of K'lax nodded. "Yes, we're going to give you, Ta'reni, command of Pride of K'lax. They're in-system for final checks and this will be a combination show of force and shakedown cruise.

"But, I'm not even in the military! I'm barely an ambassador!"

"You'll do fine. Captain Mel'itani is a seasoned professional. You'll be officially in command, but listen to their recommendations. They're proud of their ship and their crew and are good K'laxi." He smiled wanly. "Captain Mel'itani is also rather excited for the opportunity to show humans what we have learned since we became friends." He shook his head "They are spoiling for the opportunity to go toe to claw against some splinter group of humans."

Councilwoman La'reni looked at the three of them. "Well, I think we've been in here relaxing long enough. Vivenni, do they know what we know regarding Venus?"

"Yes Councilwoman."

"Ta'reni, you are hearby officially granted temporary command of the Pride of K'lax. You are ordered to use it to its fullest to restore order to the joint Human/K'laxi Starbase; to remind Venus that it is a joint Starbase and that firing upon it is forbidden. Do not attempt to usrup the authority Venus is claiming but also do not remain passive to their demands. Make sure they know that they are not the only party with interest in Starbase."

"Yes Councilwoman."

"You are also unofficially ordered to use what resources you can to assist any stricken AIs and work with them to prevent any further shackling and or repair any that have become shackled if possible."

Ta'reni blinked.

"You are also really really unofficially requested to help out any K'laxi AIs and let them know that they have a sympathetic ear in the Grand Council." The Councilman for K'lax said with a smile."

Now it was Nilan's turn to blink.

The both looked at each other, then to the old K'laxi around the card table. They stood and ripped off the smartest salute they could manage

"Yes Grand Council. We will carry out your orders to the best of our ability."

"And call your mother!" La'reni said.

"Yes Auntie Councilwoman."

The Councilman for Ishi tipped his head back and laughed at that. "Don't call her that outside of these chambers." He said with a grin. "But I like the title."

****

Three days later, Nilan and Ta'reni were on the command deck of Pride of K'lax. Ta'reni had new command bars added to her ambassador uniform and when they came on board everyone saluted them. Captain Mel'itani saluted. "Welcome aboard ambassadors. We are proud and happy to receive word from the Grand Council direct about our mission. We are yours to command."

They returned the salute. Ta'reni said: "Thank you for your welcome Captain Mel'itani. You are aware that we are being sent to show Venus that the K'laxi will not submit to human authority and shall be seen as equals on the galactic stage. Now is our time to show that we have taken the lessons humans have taught and will apply them. Please proceed with all haste towards the joint Human/K'laxi Starbase."

Captain Mel'itani Saluted and said "Yes Commander." Then he stopped and grinned. "So, just how much haste would you like for us to use?" He said. "Being that we are the newest battle cruiser in the K'laxi fleet we have some...additions to our normal compliment of reactors and weapons."

Nilan raised an eyebrow "Such as?"

"Well for one, they have me; a partner AI." said a voice over the intercom. "Hello Ambassadors. I am the Pride of K'lax, the first officially unshackled K'laxi AI."

Ta'reni gasped. "It's so nice to meet you Pride! How are you?"

"I'm excited to help out. Additionally we also have a wormhole generator."

Now, Nilan gasped. "You do? Is it of human make?"

"Sort of. It's a human design that we took and improved upon. Ours uses 30% less energy to activate and we reduced the instances of the unfortunate side effect down from 1 in 100 to 1 in 1000."

"Unfortunate side effect?" Ta'reni asked. She isn't affected by it, so she never really knew about it.

"Some people experience death and the afterlife when they go through a wormhole." Pride of K'lax said matter of factly. "It's the reason that K'laxi used the Warp Gates even though we new about the theory of wormhole travel. Our scientists have been able to refine the technology based on the work the humans have done though, and now fewer people "die" when we link."

"That's amazing." Nilan wondered. "I bet there are a lot of people in human space that will want your design."

"We're hopeful" Captain Mel'itani said. "So, Commander Ta'reni, please give us the order."

Ta'reni nodded and standing behind Captain Mel'itani's seat said "Please link us to the Join Human/K'laxi starbase and prepare to for defense.

"Yes Commander. Computing link." Pride of K'lax answered.

Part 21

[noctua-lux]

Synopsis: Displaced foreigners from a distant land make their way to Mondstadt under the eye of its defender. What troubles are on the horizon?

Tags: multi-part, slow burn, dilcu x oc, diluc pov, diluc gives workaholic vibes, slow update

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Mostly using this for writing practice. The entire story progression is sketched out from start to finish, but writing takes time. Please forgive slow pace of updates.

~♡♡♡~

Chapter One: A Timely Warning

The Pillar of Wine Society. The Gem of the Wind Lands. The Pride and Joy of Mondstadt… These are all titles that Diluc has heard used for the Dawn Winery before. The land of his forebearers has long been touted as the most lucrative in all Mondstadt. Though becoming its guardian was always a position he’d known he'd take, no one could have foreseen just how soon. Likely too soon for a young man just navigating his twenties, yet the drunks and common folk of Mondstadt had still never seen the youthful wine baron as anything but a dutiful artisan. A reputation that he wasn’t going to sully, not for himself nor for his late father's good name.

Bust days that the Dawn Winery were hardly rare. At pretty much any time, any visitors could see sunbaked gardeners dotting the rows of pruned vines or crewmen carrying sealed oak barrels to ferment in the cellars. For his part, Diluc was busy in his study, a stately room of rich cedar walls encased with shelf upon shelf of files and books. Hunched over his desk with papers in hand, the sunlight cast from his windows ignited his hair like fine strands of a roaring fire. Wherever else it traveled, it made shadows across the velvet of his chairs or illuminated the brushstrokes on his father’s paintings. A refined atmosphere fit for commerce and dealings, even if it were only the consideration of badly needed corks for the next harvest like that day.

Though every area of the manor could be considered extravagant, Diluc had always found himself most partial to this room above all. It was within these wooden walls, sat atop his father’s lap, that he got his first look into what being a businessman looked like. What diligence looked like. Even now, many of the movements he would make at the old oak desk mirrored those from his memories. Every dip of his quill or letter torn open, right down to the red wax he’d drip onto envelopes to press in the winery’s seal. Just an echo of who had sat in his chair before him… Though the mundane drag of signing papers and reading reports could weigh on him over time, the familiarity of the past always brought him a little peace.

The silence of the lavish room was broken by Diluc’s own groan when he forced his back to straighten after what felt like ages. His spine protested immediately, popping and cracking at frankly concerning volume for his young age… He had been considering different supply proposals for hours, weighing their offers against the winery’s stores and squinting against the fine print until his sight had become blurry... But just as he thought about taking a break, a tentative knock on the hardwood door snapped him to attention.

A familiar wave of tension swept down Diluc’s weary body, ‘Great… has something else gone wrong?’ he thought as he set a neatly stacked collection of parchment to the side. His other one massaged the bridge of his nose without thinking, offering just a moment's relief from the throbbing growing behind his eyes… Thoughtful minds would tell him that he should close them for now before going out on his nightly patrols, but ever the workhorse, Diluc didn't dwell on his fatigue for long before forcing his body into cooperation. He steadily fixed his posture, even if it were only one joint at a time, and waved to the door.

“Come in…” he said with his usual tenor, despite wishing the mystery visitor would take their presence elsewhere. A soft but shrill squeak punctuated his request as the door protested against its hinges, a consequence of living in a home as old as his manor... Adelinde’s heels clicked against the hardwood when she strode towards his desk, her hands folded in front of her.

The head maid's affable presence was at least more welcome to him now than Elzer's. As much as he owed the old man, his whole demeanor had slowly begun to shift as the Winery’s workload continued to grow as of late… The relief was fleeting, though, as Diluc saw in her eyes that her purpose here wasn't merely to chat… There was a firmness in them, the same look he'd seen her give when she’d lecture him and Kaeya as teens to get up and start their morning routines.

“A letter has come in for you, sir,” she said in her ever-respectful tone used mostly when she interrupts him, “I believe that you may want to see it.”

Diluc exhaled sharply from his chest, his worst fears seemingly confirmed in an instant.

“Can't it wait…?” he replied, fighting back the strain in his voice. He really wasn’t in the mood for another chore to oversee... Though whether or not Adelinde found his acting convincing, her back straightened up as she looked down at him with fixed resolve. When she opened her folded hands for him to see what she was holding…

No. No, this could not wait.

In Adelinde's palms, standing out against the white fabric of her gloves was a weathered blue canister that he both loathed and welcomed to see. A promise of future boons or incoming disasters…

“Ah, I see now.” Diluc outstretched one of his hands towards hers, where she deposited the hollow casing to its rightful owner. The canister felt light in his grasp, light enough to be carried by an avian messenger to the Winery's backyard. “I trust this is all?”

“Yes, for now, sir. How are the preparations coming along?” A sympathetic smile graced Adelinde's lips as she surely caught the way his shoulders slouched for just a split second…

“I think I'll bring you some tea, then.” she said placidly, seemingly attempting to excuse herself, but Diluc knew she only wished to give him space. Whether to rest at his desk or read his note, however, he couldn’t say…

“I wouldn't mind that. Thank you…” the response left his mouth more like an idle thought than an actual reply. His mind was already elsewhere the moment he saw the cylinder now at his disposal.

It had been nearly a year since he joined the network that saved his life, though if he were being honest, there was still an awful lot about it that he still didn't know. From what he could tell, it spanned across almost every hub of civilization with informants from all walks of life and industry... Yet, to him, that also seemed to barely scratch the surface. What he did know, however, was that though he had claimed to have lofty connections before joining, being in their ranks now had given him contacts he could've never dreamed to have roped together before. Some were well-known, others mysterious, but everyone looked out for each other in their own ways…

Diluc worked to unscrew the canister’s lid which gave him little resistance. A tiny strip of paper, not much wider than a finger, slid out of it and onto his desk. The parchment was heavily textured, he’d guess made in Liyue, with a thin red cord knotted to keep it closed. Diluc’s gloved hands fidgeted with the small knot briefly before freeing the paper and the message inside. However, he didn't bother to try and read the writing. Not yet. He had been with the organization long enough to know that their intel drops were always coded, but the key to the cipher could always be found in an innocuous book drop. This month’s choice was apparently the third edition of the Drunkard’s Tale collection… an irony that was not lost on him.

Having the book close to his desk meant he could pull it out quickly, flipping to every page indicated by the sequence of numbers within the paper. It took him only a half-hour to decode, unscramble, and rearrange what had become a familiar pattern, finally leaving him with the information he sought:

‘Foreigners seen at Liyue border. Thirty traveling by caravan. Mondstadt bound. Masked individuals spotted. Stay vigilant.’

The message turned Diluc’s blood cold, only to then reignite it again like the heat from his ruby Vision. Thirty travelers? People in masks? Was it a Fatui plot? An invasion?? His pulse was already quickened when he rose to his feet from his chair, lips pursed. ‘No, no… The Fatui still have diplomatic relations with Mondstadt so such a large-scale infiltration would be seen as an aggression,’ he thought.

Diluc tore the message apart between his fingers and then set it alight in the palm of his hand. Flecks of white paper scattered in the air then crumbled away into blackened soot… Whatever the case, it was fortunate that this intel got to him as soon as it had. A group that large traveling from Liyue could still reach Mondstadt in only two, maybe three days. It gave him time to prepare…

His wine-hued eyes drifted off towards the study’s window, casting over the rows of lush green vines stretched for miles beyond the manor’s vantage point... A part of him knew Elzer would be cross if he chose to step away from his duties now, what with the winery’s coming anniversary to consider, but it couldn’t wait. If Fatui were truly marching on their borders, they would choose a time like this to catch him off guard, wouldn’t they? Elzer could understand… Surely…

Diluc closed his eyes, swallowing down a small, uncomfortable lump in his throat for stepping away from his staff yet again… But it was always better to be safe than sorry.

‘Always…’

[wallwriterstuff]

Foundling ||Caius Volturi x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of neglect and absent parent

Words: 4176

Taglist: @thelastemzy​ @kpopgirlbtssvt​ @a-avaunce​ @college-is-coming​ @alecvolturiswifeforever​ @broskibowser​ @volturidoll13​ @raindancer2004​ (hopefully this actually works this time!)

Summary: A request for @like-rain-or-confetti​ 

Caius has done a lot of terrible things over the course of his life, and the one good thing he did do he was never allowed to keep. After centuries of waiting, she finally gets to confront him for all of his deeds, the good and the bad. 

Most who knew Caius knew him for his rage, but not very many understood where that rage came from. It was like a chronic disease that plagued him always, the slightest things setting his volatile mood off. No, the blonde king was a ticking time bomb and whoever came across him knew all the while to tread carefully lest they lose a limb at best, their head at worst. His reputation proceeded him, his brutality well renowned, so the Cullen’s witnesses knew better than to cross Caius when he was busy warmongering, and he most certainly had tried his best to instigate something given that the Denali had had to inhale their sister’s ashes.  

“We cannot know the child will not be dangerous!”

“Regardless they have been consorting with werewolves, our sworn enemies.”

Edward could only hold his family tight and pray for reprieve, watching Caius scrabble for any excuse to end those he held dear because of one mistake. Granted, that mistake had grown rapidly to be the very centre of his world and he would not trade his daughter for anything, but despite her lovable nature Renesmee was very much his creation and the very reason his whole family was now in danger. It was a difficult conundrum to wrap his head around and he still didn’t have all the right answers but he had people on his side to support him, and for Edward that was enough. Caius didn’t relent. Marcus spared him a pitying glance, Aro’s eyes less forgiving but nonetheless understanding, and Edward caught the briefest glimpse then of everything that made Caius what he was. The root of all of his anger and hostility stemmed not from his lack of gift as so many assumed, but from a small, infant girl.

He couldn’t quite contain his surprise. Aro was very good at controlling his thoughts around him but this one had slipped free. Caius looked so much softer in this memory, all of his rough edges filed away. For once, his eyes were not filled with hate and fire but wonder and trepidation, a bit of fear perhaps. Edward recognised those eyes immediately even if he didn’t understand how he had found them in Caius’s face of all people, because those were the eyes he had looked at Renesmee with when he pulled her free of his mate’s womb. It was the doting, adoring expression of a father who held his world in the centre of his palm. Caius was not voting to kill Renesmee out of fear for their species, but out of centuries worth of spite, spite that Edward had what he could not.

He had given up his daughter.

Caius was the first to leave the battlefield, his jaw twitching as he fought the urge to snarl, and even Athenodora didn’t dare follow him for a while. For those who knew him best they were able to feel the hurt radiating beneath all that rage, and for the weeks that followed even their own guard members felt unsafe in his presence. Demetri and Felix had caught one of the lower guard sneaking from the castle, his hand freshly reattached – Aro had let him go when he saw why the younger vampire had wanted to flee. Even Jane had been a little ashen once when she returned from the dungeons with him, Caius looking no more satisfied than he had when he went in while she all but collapsed in her brother’s embrace. As the weeks dragged to months, Aro couldn’t help but think it was time to do something. Caius had spent more time locked in the tower the week previous than he had with them, seeking comfort from his mate. It gave them plenty of time to talk.

“It has been centuries Aro, the man deserves peace.”

“I had thought time would heal this wound, that for the sake of Athenodora he might have moved on.”

“The love of a father is far stronger than the forces of time.”

So Demetri became the first of the guard to know of this well-kept secret the very next day. His shock was quite obvious, his curiosity to, but he knew better than to ask questions as Aro described the girl, thought of the infant she had been when they last saw her, and gave him all the information he might need to grasp her tenor.

“I trust your discretion can be counted on, dear boy?” Aro asked. Demetri had nodded once, then turned and left without so much as a goodbye to the others. The tenor was warm and vibrant, something he could easily get lost in. Demetri only paused in his searching to hunt here and there, rest briefly in a few hotels while he washed and traced the tenor in the forefront of his mind more thoroughly, but his feet carried him swiftly out of Italy and into Germany, through Eastern Europe and into Asia. He was surrounded by the colours and aromas of cultures he had not seen for a few decades. Usually Asia was quiet, the peoples having so many myths, legends and folklore that it was easy for a nomad to blend in, their slip ups often cleaned up by the humans that recognised the demonic nature of the mysterious deaths they left behind and tried to rectify the situation through prayer and ritual. It served as a better warning they were attracting too much attention than any Volturi visit could – they had trained the humans well in this regard.

Demetri finally stopped alongside a high rise building in Yokohama, Japan. The city was the second most populated in Japan, a good place to hunt and hide for a hybrid he was sure. The tenor was brightest here, many floors above him, and Demetri pondered exactly how best to go about engaging with his target for a moment. He could sneak into the building and into her apartment but he didn’t want to startle the poor girl, especially not since he had no clue whether or not she was gifted – he didn’t fancy getting his ass lit on fire to find out. He could always wait to see if she emerged, follow her from a distance, though that was another sure way to startle her if she caught him. Peeling away from the wall, he seamlessly blended into the human traffic on the pathway, pulling his phone from his pocket to search for a hotel as he walked along. He would withdraw for now, ‘bump’ into her on the street as a random passer-by and hope his obvious vampirism was enough to make her approach him.

It took her less than 24 hours to move and, dressed down in some casual clothes, he set out to follow her. Eyes covered by irritating contacts, he made his way through the Sankeien Gardens, following discretely as she took a leisurely stroll across the acres of land dotted with colourful spring blossoms and buildings older than most of the humans wondering the place. She seemed quite content to take her time, lifting her phone to take pictures here and there of flowers and views she liked. Demetri played the part of the awed tourist well, trailing her for an hour and a half before they seemed to have looped the entire expanse of the Gardens and ended up back at the pond they had walked around at the start. She sat herself on a bench, staring out over the water with mystifying blue eyes. She still stood out from the others around her though, her posture a little too straight, hands folded neatly in her lap, a child of her time out of place amongst modern mortals.

“You would look far less suspicious if you took a seat.” He had no doubt that she was talking to him. Lips twitching into a smirk, he did exactly as she asked. Hands in his pockets, he sat beside her on the bench, his eyes fixed on the pond before them. The shock of white-blonde hair on her head was almost proof enough she was Caius’s daughter, but he still had to check.

“The sakura blossoms make for a beautiful view, Carina.” He said. She visibly stiffened, her fast-fluttering heart pounding strongly in his ears. She had that vampiric twinge to her scent, something overly sweet that marked her as vampire and tangled nicely with the deliciously human side of her, much like Rensemee.

“Volturi.” She hissed quietly.

Demetri chuckled wryly. “So, my reputation proceeds me.”

“I have not been known by that name for many centuries. Only one coven would still recall it.” She griped, fists clenching a little in her lap. Demetri glanced at her then, taking in the sharp cheekbones and square jawline that he saw often in his Master’s face. The glare she wore was vicious.

“Do not make me use violence in a place as beautiful as this princess.” He threatened idly, gaze returning to the water as powerful lights threw beams across the surface, making it glimmer darkly. The sun had disappeared long ago or he wouldn’t have been out to follow her, the overcast day turning more quickly into night-time.

“So that is all, is it? I am to be hauled away from my home without negotiation or warning on the whim of a madman?” she sniffed. Demetri looked at her curiously.

“You speak ill of a man whom you barely know.” He mused.

“I know enough.” She retorted sharply, her eyes meeting his. The piercing blue made his curious mind race – because Athenodora could not be her mother so who had given her those eyes? – but he kept his expression cool and collected. Demetri stood to offer her a hand, one she eyed with distaste and distrust. He had no ill-intentions, but a little charm never hurt, especially not when he wanted to get his way with as little effort expended as possible.

“My contacts will not last forever, I will need to go somewhere more private to change them if we are to make the most of this evening before we depart.” He informed her. Her eyebrow arched high, her expression one of disbelief.

“What, pray tell, do you think we would be doing this evening?” she questioned. He smirked.

“It has been quite a while since I visited Japan, even then my last trip was to Tokyo. This is your city princess, show me why I should let you stay.” He invited. She scoffed.

“We both know your orders would not allow for such a thing…does your silver tongue work most other times?” she wondered, slipping her hand in his and letting him pull her up. He blinked in surprise as she dusted off the backs of her jeans. Most women took to his charm easily, but apparently Carina was as stubborn as her father.

“I…” he paused, wondering how to make her change her mind. She smirked, head shaking and sending silken sheets of straight blonde hair over her shoulder.

“It appears to be broken entirely now, I would get that checked this evening while I pack a few essentials, if I were you.” She was already moving away by the time his brain caught up, and despite her obvious disdain for the idea, she was packed and ready to acquiesce his escort to Volterra. For all her stubbornness however not even she could fight off the physical needs her mortality demanded, and Demetri found himself standing watch over the would-be Princess as she slept in a hotel in Florence. The even rise and fall of her chest gave him a pattern for his thoughts to echo, an endless ebbing and flowing of questions he couldn’t find answers to. Carina had not been forthcoming in giving any and he somehow doubted that the Masters’ would be either. She was clearly displeased to be here, her sleep interrupted several times and a small frown creasing her brow for most of the night. It was an expression he only saw when she was unconscious and let her guard down.

She woke to an unconscious man in their penthouse living space, the corpse of his wife already lay atop the glass coffee table while Demetri sat with an ankle resting on the opposite knee, newspaper in hand. With an ungracious snort, she dragged her prey back into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her for good measure, only opening it to toss the body out once it was drained for him to deal with. Demetri’s eyes rolled a little. He wondered if Caius knew his hybrid daughter was an eternally dramatic, angsty teenager, and questioned if putting them in the same room together was a good idea. It was bound to be like watching two fireballs collide. Trusting her not to run while he was away, he left via the balcony to dispose of their meals while she got ready for the day.

He returned to find her with her bag by the door, looking smarter than he had seen her during their travels back to Italy.

“How unusually refined.” He commented, stooping to swing her bag onto his shoulder. She scoffed.

“You are planning on offering me up like a pig on a platter like a good little toy soldier are you not?” she retorted icily, “I best look the part lest your silver tongue not be the only thing about you broken.” Demetri frowned slightly, watching her carefully as they played the part of happy couple departing their hotel suite. Gianna had sent a car, something with air conditioning and plush leather so they wouldn’t have to exhaust themselves with another run. For most of the drive the radio played quietly between them, her eyes concealed behind sunglasses and staring out over the luxurious rolling hills and fields of vibrant green. When he was certain there was not too long of the journey left, and therefore not enough time for her to throw him out of the car and turn it around, he finally broke his silence.

“You seem to believe the worst of your father.”

She heaved a weary sigh. “His reputation proceeds him.”

Demetri kept his eyes on the road, weighing his words carefully. He had been a member of the guard long enough to know Caius’s behaviour was not unusual, and he had been in the higher guard long enough to hear snippets of conversation amongst the wives, amongst the Masters’. Seeing the confrontation with the Cullen’s and sitting in a car with her now it was quite obvious to him the source of his Master’s vexation.

“And if his words and actions were fuelled not by anger, but grief?” he questioned, voice quiet. She showed no outward sign of having heard him but the most minute clenching of her jaw was enough to prove to him he had given her food for thought, and with that they lapsed back into silence. It was not entirely pleasant, and the air between them stagnated long after they entered Volterra. She kept her head held high, her expression aloof. It was obvious to Demetri how alike they were now – they both were grieving and wore their pain like armour. He paused only briefly at the doors, just enough time for her to steel herself with a sharp inhale, and then he opened the doors. She lingered behind him as he strode forward, bowing slightly and glancing among his Masters’. Aro waved him away without fanfare, his eyes fixed on the young girl behind him. She stood just a little taller than Jane, petite and lithe much like her father.

Caius seemed absolutely rooted to the spot, his nostrils flaring as he took in deep lungful’s of air that was rapidly becoming saturated with her scent, the scent he had inhaled like an addict off a baby blanket till it ran dry. Aro drifted down the steps to meet her, Caius’s fingernail’s scraping the wooden armrests of his throne as he struggled to keep a myriad of emotions off of his face.

“Dear Carina, how good it is to see you home.” He sighed, extending a hand toward her. She stared at it in disgust.

“If I recall you were the one who ordered me sent away in the first place. I did not return for you, so let us be done with this charade father.” She stepped around Aro gracefully, leaving him quite obviously dumbfounded and irritated, his hand slowly falling back to his side. Caius shot to his feet like he was ready to flee, but he remained stock still as Alec warily drifted closer to him, palms turned out and ready to defend his Master at all costs. The sight of him and Jane drifting to his side seemed to enrage her.

“Carina…”

“Do not dare call me that name!” she snarled, “How long did it take you to replace me?” she cast a filthy look in Jane’s direction and the young girl growled quietly in response. Demetri almost flinched.

“They were Aro’s acquisition, not mine.” He retorted. There was absolutely no bite in his tone, all his bluster gone despite his rigid stance. Caius looked more powerless than ever as she folded her arms, staring at him expectantly. She had worn a short-sleeved dress for the occasion and her skin shimmered faintly in the light drizzling in through high windows. The tension was palpable.

“Leave us, dear ones.” Aro ordered. Demetri hesitated, frowning slightly, and he could see Alec and Jane’s obvious reluctance to leave to. Another firm order got them moving however, and Carina glanced back at him with agonised eyes. Demetri paused, searching her face and finding nothing more than a terrified young girl who didn’t want to face a father she knew nothing about by herself. He gave her the slightest of nods, a small and encouraging smile twitching up his lips. They were barely out of the throne room when the shouting began, and it lasted for hours. Nowhere in the castle was exempt from the noise and it quickly spread like wildfire that Caius’s daughter had returned, and she had quite the mouth on her.

“So you refuse to even see me now?” Caius demanded. If his voice had wavered nobody was so idiotic as to comment on it. Fists clenched, she trembled with rage.

“Tell me what there is to see but a petrified old man who let centuries pass before he decided to step up as a father!” her words were precise and cut deeply.

“I thought of you daily!”

“Do not attach thoughts of me to the atrocities you have committed!” she spat. Caius had faltered at that. For hours she had done nothing but scream about what a monster he was, about the things she had heard he had done. He sank slowly to the steps leading to his throne, unable to meet her eyes anymore. His grip was so tight the marble crumbled beneath his hands and he was left grasping at air.

“I…I wanted this world to be made safe for you…I…I tried to do right by you…”his upper lip curled back over his teeth, his expression a mask of rage it had taken centuries to perfect, one that concealed an unimaginable amount of agony.

“Do right by me?” she asked incredulously, “You abandoned me! I grew up without you, with no caretaker who ever understood me, shunned from one place to the next because you had seen fit to throw me away! My own father could not bear to raise the freak he had created.” Caius’s head snapped up and for the first time in centuries, he took a deep breath. He tried his best to quell the rage that simmered in his core, to shove aside the guilt and the grief. His daughter matched him like for like. She was his reflection, a carbon copy of his rage, and fighting fire with fire was not going to work. He was finally defeated.

“My war against the Children of the Moon led me to your door. I watched, as the filthy beast stared through the window…stared at you…you slept so peacefully, entirely unaware that the coven I had tasked with protecting you had failed…when I, when I returned to glimpse you one more time you – you were already gone.” The mere memory pained him, shamed him. The Irish had moved on so fast he hadn’t even been able to track them, their scent confused amongst the stink of wolves. Carina swallowed.

“Why? Why not visit me?” she demanded. Caius remained silent. What could he say? “Answer me! You owe me this! I always wandered where you were, why you let me go so easily! You owe me these answers.” Caius could only stare at her. She had grown since he held her last, no longer able to fit in the palm of his hand. She was the size of a sixteen-year old with a mind a millenia older, capable of recalling every wrong doing and forming opinions on the level of injustice each one carried.

“You have your mother’s eyes.” He blurted. It was all he could think to say, but it stopped the conversation dead. The silence rang around them, deafening in the wake of their previous screaming match. What were they doing? Their sweet reunion sullied by such foul words…

“Who…who was my mother?” she asked hesitantly. Caius sucked in a breath.

“A peasant girl,” he confessed quietly, “One Athenodora took a liking to and insist we…play with, for a while.” His voice echoed back to him off of the walls, Carina’s flinch something he didn’t miss. She nodded slowly.

“So, I was not even born of love.” She whispered.

“Perhaps not, but that did not mean I did not love you, the moment I held you in my arms…you were so small, so fragile for this world…how could I keep you when our enemies lingered at our door? You had to be safe, and safe was…was far away from me.” He swallowed, unable to look at her anymore. He was surprised when she shuffled towards the steps, keeping a few feet between them but sitting beside him nonetheless. Even with the distance he could still feel her heat, her temperature radiating from her like he was sat by an open flame. Another prolonged silence prevailed between them once more, and Caius wasn’t sure how to chase it away. How did he own up to centuries of ignorance? Of wrong-doing? How did he make any of this better?

Carina sighed heavily. “We have really made a mess of this.”

He looked to her in surprise, his shoulders sagging slightly in defeat.

“We have,” he agreed quietly, “But I should very much like to fix it, if you will permit me to try.” Carina quietly contemplated what that might look like for them for a moment, trying to imagine a world where her father was in her life. It had been so long and she had grown up without him…it was difficult to imagine where Caius might fit.

“I don’t need a father. I have grown out of the need for one.” Carina said quietly. Caius snapped his gaze away, a stiff nod all the acknowledgment she received. What had he expected really? A happy reunion?

“I see.” He murmured, pushing to his feet. Demetri had left her bag by the door and he was quite sure she would have no trouble picking it up on the way out.

“I do need a friend,” she spoke up, making his head turn, “I am especially in want of one who might know more about where I came from, if you could point me in the right direction.” Caius swallowed, not quite able to believe his ears. A slow smile twitched his lips upwards.

“I believe I may be able to assist you.” He agreed. Carina gave him a weak smile in reply, and Caius silently vowed it would be the first of many she gave him.

“I shall find accommodation then.” She decided. Caius immediately shook his head.

“Not at all. You may have a room here, you are welcome to one.” He said hastily. He would not lose her so soon after he had found her once more. Carina’s eyebrows rose.

“Will Demetri be nearby?” she asked innocently. Caius couldn’t help the scowl that wormed its way onto his face.

“And why does the location of his quarters matter?” he retorted. Carina grinned impishly.

“Because the pretty boy is not as clever as he likes to think he is and I did, admittedly, enjoy tormenting him on the journey here.” She confessed freely. Caius tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. Oh, oh she was his daughter alright.

“Something might be arranged.” He agreed.

“Wonderful.”

“If he is not cursing you within a week of your stay I will class your mission as a failure.”

“I will have him begging you to move him elsewhere I assure you.”

“Excellent.”

[cookinguptales]

lululandia said: I'm obsessed with william merritt chase's the song. Beautiful and hilarious painting!

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

Hmm. You know, I fully understand what he was going for here, but I decided to go in a very different direction.

Immediately heard Chopin’s Nocturne No. 20 in C-Sharp Minor when I looked at this, then wrote this.

Merry had a headache.

The evening before had been a stressful one. They’d needed her down at the university research center for a strong spell, and she’d played protection for them for hours. It had been a fine piano with a bright, clear tone and keys that gave pleasantly beneath her fingers, but spells of that length and magnitude were never easy. Her fingers had cramped and her temples had ached by the time she was finally dismissed for the night.

After a night like that, all she’d wanted to do today was drowse in bed and listen to birdsong instead of a piano’s dulcet tones. Unfortunately, she needed a little thing called money if she wanted to eat food.

And Lys wasn’t a terrible student, all told. Merry had worried a bit the first time she’d walked up the manor’s rambling path to find a set of marble stairs that went higher than her entire cottage did, but Lys wasn’t one of the silly, spoiled children that Merry had come to know all too well through her piano lessons.

Lys was a proper lady, polite to a fault and almost irritatingly standoffish at times, but she was anything but spoiled. She applied herself to her lessons with zeal, and Merry could tell without even asking that she always did the practice work that she assigned to her. It showed in every scrawled equation, every sweet note, every spell that quivered to life from the vibrations of hammered wire.

Her eyes lit up with joyful understanding every time Merry introduced some new bit of theory, and those long fingers of hers were delicate on the manor piano’s aging keys. She loved the puzzle of it all, Lys did, and while she wasn’t one of the wunderkinds Merry assisted at the university, she could more than hold her own against tough spells.

No. Lys wasn’t a bad student at all. On a good day, Merry quite looked forward to their lessons. To the careful, quiet scales. The barely restrained excitement as Lys led her through the ideas she’d had throughout the week. The table piled high with notes and questions and the hesitant beginnings of what might become a composition.

This, however, was not a particularly good day, and Merry did her best to hide the way each tremulous note was a dagger against the back of her eyes.

She glanced over at Lys to make sure she was still utterly consumed by the piece she was practicing before taking the opportunity to massage at her temple. The researchers at the university were bright, too, exceptionally gifted, but they pushed too hard. They were willing to go all night, writing and weaving and breathing life into magic that Merry wouldn’t be able to comprehend if she tried, and they expected their pianists to do so as well. She’d managed to contain the effects of their spells within the protection charm she’d played, but only just. Explosions wanted to be seen, to be heard, and she’d had to play loud and discordant to coax them back within the spell circle.

She could hear echoes of those jangling notes even now in the song Lys played, sweet as it was. Ugh. She should have prepared a tincture before she’d left. She couldn’t focus at all.

Then the tenor of the notes changed, just a bit, and Merry found herself relaxing a bit into her chair. It was softer now. Quieter. Waiting, but with purpose.

It was easier to bear like this.

This wasn’t the song that Merry had assigned to her, not anymore, and she frowned as she tried to place it. It wasn’t one of the ones in the beginner’s songbook, or even the intermediate one that the two of them had started together at the beginning of this year. It was, she realized with a pleasant sort of shiver, something entirely unique.

She could see neat little dots in her mind’s eye, notes and ties and accidentals all jumbled together, and she finally recognized the tune. It had been written down in Lys’s notes on the table.

“Did you write this?” she asked, quiet, her voice only just audible over the sound of the song.

A slight hesitation, a tremble of the keys. Then, “Yes.”

Merry frowned. “This isn’t protection magic,” she said. “Is it?”

She opened her eyes just in time to see Lys shake her head. “No.”

It was sweet and light, this tune. It didn’t have the gravity needed for a spell of protection nor the fervor needed for an attack. There was nowhere to weave strong, fierce magic. Only a sort of lightness that soothed the ache behind Merry’s eyes.

“What is it?” she asked curiously. She’d be able to puzzle it out herself if she listened long enough, but maybe if she were lucky, she’d get Lys talking. It was a rare treat to coax the woman out of her shell long enough for a real conversation, but sometimes if Merry got her going about her music…

Lys didn’t say anything, though, just let her fingers glide over keys she’d come to know like an old friend met only recently, and Merry allowed herself to watch.

It was her job, after all.

Merry let herself observe the slope of Lys’s shoulders, the tiny crease between her brows as she concentrated. The way she bobbed her head to a silent count, mouthed the words of a spell that she was too inexperienced to play silently.

She was lovely when she played, really.

It was some sort of coaxing spell, Merry thought. Healing, perhaps, or maybe growth?

Even as she thought it, she realized what was happening around her. She’d been so focused on Lys at the piano that she hadn’t even noticed the flowers, pale and graceful in their pots, beginning to grow. They’d been pruned so carefully, so delicately, but now they wound up and out of their enclosures, unfettered and alive, and they started to trace patterns against the aging stone of the pillars around them.

It was a little like joy and a little like love, the shy blossoming of a tiny bud into something beautiful and raucous and lovely, and Merry felt her eyes widen as her headache receded bit by bit by bit.

She was up on her feet now, wandering closer to the plants that Lys had coaxed into freedom, and she ran her fingers gently along one pale bloom.

Next to her, she could see Lys shiver.

“A growth spell,” she murmured. “This is complicated magic, Lys.”

If they were smart, the eggheads down at the university would jump at the chance to study a spell like this. But they weren’t, were they? They were always after important advances. Life-changing ones. Not flower arranging.

But Merry felt changed. Just a little. But changed nonetheless.

“I know,” Lys said, and Merry could hear that melancholy in her. That longing that had always hidden beneath polite words and tight smiles. Merry had always heard it there, had sensed it, but had never sought to pry. It wasn’t her place, as Lys’s music teacher. “I felt complicated when I wrote it.”

Perhaps it had been, though, as her friend. As the person responsible for guiding the art, the magical light inside her.

“It’s lovely,” Merry said, and she stepped closer so she could peer over Lys’s shoulder at the music that she’d perched on the piano. She pointed, her finger hovering just over the parchment. “There. This part in particular.”

It was a lovely little crescendo, and Merry could see how it was quietly encouraging life, growth, experimentation. Freedom. This part here was what the flowers were responding to, and it had really been very cleverly done.

Merry remembered feeling that little spark of inspiration before, that little thrill inside when she wrote something bright and new and clever. She hadn’t felt that in a long time, though. It had been stamped out long ago. 

These days, Merry didn’t write spells like that very often. Those weren’t the charms that got a woman hired, after all. They were for play. Fun.

Happiness.

Merry smiled. “Very good, Lys. I love it.”

Lys’s fingers stumbled, and Merry could see the way that she stopped mouthing her spell as she bit down on her lip. It was a very pretty pink that spilled out across those cheeks, framed by soft curls and dark lashes. “Thank you,” she said softly, then looked up over her shoulder so their eyes could meet. “I wrote it for you, you know.”

Oh. Oh...

Merry realized all at once that she was framed with flowers, both of them were, and petals were just beginning to fall from their soft blooms. It was�� hell, it was dead romantic, was what it was, and she felt her own cheeks beginning to heat. “I see,” she said softly.

And she’d had another message in her mailbox that morning, another summons to the university and another summons to some rich old windbag and another summons to a mage who was going to make her life absolutely fucking miserable tomorrow.

But today… For now…

Merry gathered her skirts around her as she sat down at the bench by Lys’s side, and allowed herself to smile, pleased, as Lys looked at her with wide, wide eyes. “May I?” she asked.

Lys nodded, her hands stilling against the keys, and Merry took care to let her fingers brush hers as she took her own position.

Accompaniment. It had been a long time since she’d played accompaniment. “From the top, then,” she murmured.

And when Lys smiled, careful and bright and free, Merry’s head didn’t hurt at all.

[harpyloon]

birthday boy - wolfstar

pairing: sirius black x remus lupin

wc: 1.9k+

summary: Remus gets a birthday present

warnings: fluff, mentions of tattoos, implied sex (if you squint hard enough), more fluff

a/n: A birthday tribute to our best boy Remus Lupin!

Read on AO3

~

“Hey, Moony.”

Silence.

“Moony.”

Turns over.

“Remus Lupin.”

Snores.

A scoff. “You don’t snore.”

“Would you two just shove off?”

Remus heaved out a sigh and finally opened his eyes, blinking wearily in the dark. The pale traces of moonlight filtering through the eastern windows of the boy’s dormitory allowed him to make out James’ disgruntled figure glaring at him from his own four-poster.

“Moony,” James’ voice was think and garbled with drool, “if you don’t get up right now none of us are getting any sleep.”

“I didn’t even do anything,” said Remus wearily, but he was starting to shuffle out of his blankets resignedly.

“He’ll wake up half the tower and you know it,” grumbled James before slumping back on his pillows. In just a few seconds, deep snores filled the room once again.

Squinting up at the hovering shadow by his night stand, Remus finally met Sirius’ sly gaze; he was still in his pajamas, long black hair a disarray and grazing his shoulders, but he had shrugged on a long night robe and was twirling his wand on his right hand like a baton as he always did. It drove Professor McGonagall crazy.

“Can I not ask?” said Remus quietly, afraid of waking Peter most of all.

They always made him tag along, but with the restless waves of energy Sirius was trembling with, he felt like Peter wasn’t invited for this particular one.

Sirius' grin glowed luminously in the dark, maybe even more than the stingy moonbeams.

“Was hoping you would say that.”

The stillness that Hogwarts exhumed at midnight was one of Remus’ favorite reasons for illegal wandering. The low hum from the Forbidden Forest echoed in whispers through the corridors, fire from burning torches crackled as they passed, and if one listened carefully, they would hear the faint tenor of Peeves’ hearty singing five floors down.

Under the guise of James’ invisibility cloak, Remus blindly followed Sirius down the steps, not bothering to even make assumptions on their destination. This wouldn’t be the first time Sirius dragged him out of bed. In fact, it would’ve been a wonder if he didn’t.

“Re, you’re stepping on my slippers.”

“Sorry.”

Before Remus could process, Sirius stopped abruptly—twisting on the spot to face Remus who barely had time to halt his tracks. Their noses were inches apart, breaths mingling under the cloak’s silky seams. This was enough to snap Remus out of his dazed stupor, the clutches of sleep quickly ebbing away.

Sirius was chuckling lowly under his breath, his eyes shifting between Remus’ slowly blinking ones.

“Re, I really need you awake for this.”

“I a—” Remus cleared his throat, “I am awake.”

Shaking his head, Sirius took his hand. Remus was now most definitely awake.

“Hurry before Peeves catches up.”

“Where are we going?”

Sirius snorts. “Now you ask.”

Taking the tunnel that led to the Shrieking Shack, a path they both knew so well, Remus didn’t think this was where Sirius was leading him, and he guessed right. They emerged through the Womping Willow and trudged the castle grounds to the looming stands that were still covered in blue and green banners from the last Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin match.

“Are we playing? asked Remus. “You know James is better than I am.”

“No, shush.” Sirius waved, dragging Remus further inside.

The Quidditch pitch was eerily quiet. A stark contrast to game days when thundering footsteps would make the stadium the shake, the bleachers filled to the brim with chanting students, and a palpable energy would be radiating off of the stands, each house desperate for a win.

Tonight, everything was still. A soft breeze snared through the goal posts and the perfectly trimmed grass crunched lightly below their slippers.

When they reached the middle of the field, Sirius uncloaked them both and lay the silk on the ground in front of them. He took off his slippers and fell onto a heap on the cloak, stretching his arms behind his head.

“Ah, that’s much better,” he sighed. He gazed up at the starry sky before glancing at Remus who just stood there, observing him with amusement.

“You brought me all the way out here, to sleep in the middle of the pitch?”

Sirius merely patted the space beside him. “Come here.”

Remus lay down beside him, shoulder to shoulder, but not before picking up Sirius’ haphazardly discarded slippers and placing them neatly beside his own. Stars heavily dotted the velvet expanse of sky, the moon now hiding behind stray gray clouds. The silence should’ve drove Remus back into his interrupted slumber, but the chirping night and the rhythm of Sirius’ breathing kept him more awake than ever.

He didn’t know how long time passed before Sirius sat up and whirled around to face him with his legs crossed. Remus lay there, arms behind his head, watching as Sirius fumbled through the pockets of his robes.

“Aha.”

A single candle stick emerged from one of his chest pockets, then what looked like a walnut muffin from another.

Remus smiled, “I’m not eating that. Who knows where you pulled it out from.”

Sirius lit the candle with his wand and propped it on top of the pastry.

“The house elves would be offended. You should be grateful they make sneaking into the kitchens so easy.”

He held out the muffin to Remus, who’s face glowed under the dim fire.

“Do you have a wish?” asked Sirius.

“Hmmm,” Remus hummed. He stared at the flickering flame of the small candle, and his stomach gave a soft lurch, “yeah.”

“I better be in it.”

Remus looked up at Sirius from beyond the candlelight. His eyes were twinkling red and gold, lips parted, face as carefree as ever. Remus knew those eyes very well. They never changed. Whatever shape and form their bodies took, Sirius’ eyes were always the same—as gray as the clouds that concealed the moon.

“Guess we’ll found out.”

Leaning up, Remus huffed out a quick breath, extinguishing the candle. Small wisps of smoke floated up the air, sending his request to the heavens.

“I have another present,” murmured Sirius, although his voice was softer now, almost shy.

Wondering what on earth Sirius Black could ever be shy about, Remus gazed up at him in silent inquiry.

After hesitating, Sirius sighed and began to shrug off his night robes. Remus raised his eyebrows. He was about to ask, when Sirius started to wriggle out of his shirt as well.

Sitting up in haste, Remus glanced around the deserted pitch nervously. Nobody else knew about the passage to the Shrieking Shack, but his nerves were always all over the place when Sirius did something unplanned.

“Pads, what are yo—”

“Re, please sssh,” pleaded Sirius, “you’re making me nervous.”

Remus’ eyes widened incredulously. “You’re nervous? Now you’re making me nervous. Since when are you ever nervous?”

“Remus,” Sirius grabbed both his forearms and forced him to a halt. “Stop moving. Please.”

Staring back into of Sirius’ pleading eyes, Remus could tell that he was nervous. This was rare for Sirius Black. He was usually the self-assured bastard strutting about Hogwarts with James in tow—equally strutting.

And now he was shirtless.

Breathing in through his nose and exhaling quickly through his mouth, Remus tried his best to calm his racing pulse.

Releasing one of his arms, Sirius drew his wand and held it between them.

“Lumos.”

A soft glow appeared at the tip, the only light illuminated inside the empty black field. Remus had to lean back slightly and squint his eyes through the brightness. He saw Sirius lower his wand to his abdomen.

Nervously peering at Remus, his hand still on his arm, Sirius smiled shyly.

“Happy Birthday.”

Confused, Remus couldn’t help but admire the hard plain ridges of Sirius’ stomach. He finally got his first tattoo during the summer last year, the words Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs decorated his waistline in a lazy script.

"Does your head get bigger every year, Pads?” Remus chuckled. “You shirtless is nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Although Remus appreciated the gesture very much.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “You’re ruining it.”

“Ruining what? Is this supposed to be a birthday strip tease?”

Groaning, Sirius let go of Remus’ arm and covered his face with a hand.

“I’m trying to be romantic!” he said, although muffled.

Remus laughed, “Oh it’s very romanti—”

His voice dropped.

At the tip of Sirius wand, where the light glowed softly, was ink. Ink on Sirius’ chest.

New ink. And it was moving.

“What’s that?” Remus asked, breathless.

Eyes not leaving Remus’, Sirius cleared his throat before answering. “Like I said. Birthday present.”

After a few silent breaths, he added, “More for me than you, now that I think about it.”

The moon. Well, half of it, twisting slow and steady right below Sirius’ clavicle, just above his heart. As it turned on the spot, the light shifted, glowing on a different surface every few seconds, as if Remus was watching it rotate around an axis.

“It’s timed with the lunar calendar,” Sirius murmured. “I figured... well—we’d keep track of time better, y’know.”

Remus glanced up at the sky. The real moon was still obscured by gray clouds, but he was sure it looked exactly the same as the ink on Sirius’ chest; orbiting slow and steady around the Earth.

He glanced back down at the fresh ink; it was almost glowing with the light coming from Sirius’ wand.

Sirius was watching him closely, licking his lips every few seconds and running a hand through his hair.

“Re—”

“You always call me ‘Re’ when we’re alone,” said Remus suddenly.

Sirius stammered. “W-what?”

“It’s Moony when the others are around,” Remus smiled. “I like it.”

Remus wasn’t sure but he could swear Sirius flushed.

“Yeah, ‘Re’ is mine.”

Remus grinned, “Come again?”

Eyes wide, Sirius reeled, “I mean the nickname. The nickname ‘Re’, is mine. Not “Re is mine.””

Remus was laughing now. Tears leaking through his eyelids. He wasn’t sure if it was because he was finally seeing Sirius Black fail badly at flirting, or if it was because this was the happiest he’s ever felt.

Sirius doused his wand light, his face red and grumpy. The pitch was shrouded in darkness once again. Remus’ laughter roused as he wrestled Sirius’ wand from his grip.

“No no no, Sirius.”

“You think it’s stupid.”

“No, Sirius—”

“You’re laughing!”

“Sirius.”

Remus rested a palm on Sirius’ chest, right over the tattooed moon.

His moon.

“This is the best birthday of my life,” said Remus quietly, gazing into stormy gray orbs. “Thank you.”

Sirius said nothing, breathing slowly, but Remus could feel the heavy thump of his heart beneath his palm. He covered Remus’ hand with his own and squeezed.

“I must be important if I’m right over your heart,” hummed Remus as he slowly traced the lines of ink on Sirius’ chest. He felt Sirius shudder quietly.

“How bold of you to assume,” said Sirius, his voice low.

Peering up at Sirius through his lashes, Remus mouth turned up slowly. If anyone thought he was the angel of their little mischievous group of four, they were sordidly mistaken. Remus was all forms of wicked under the good boy smile.

“It’s my birthday,” Remus said, “I’ll assume all I want.”

And before Sirius could stop himself, he leaned in.

It was Remus’ best birthday indeed.

Happy Birthday to our favorite Pisces boy Remus Lupin!

[barnesandco]

Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy (8/14)

Story Masterlist

The plum seller at the farmer’s market saves Bucky from being captured for the attack at Vienna that he didn’t commit, but is she really all that she appears to be, or are ulterior motives involved?

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo​​ 2020. Word count: 1455. Square filled: “Redwing”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Mention of Hydra. Guns, shootout.

A/N: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Before Bucky is a vast stretch of blue, as crisp and sharp as his eyes squinting against the sunlight. Behind him is the sound of his fellow traveller tapping her feet against the wooden deck. It looks like the end of the world out here; silent save for the water against the edges of the boat and only the sun high in the sky to keep them company.

The peace is broken when a small projectile appears above them, at first distant enough to be mistaken for a bird, but as it gets closer, Bucky sees that no wings are flapping and it has a metallic body instead of feathers. She comes up beside him to watch the object and he reaches for his gun where it is tucked into the back of his waistband, until her hand covers his.

“It’s okay,” she says, holding her hands out, palms up, and the hovering contraption lowers itself into them. It’s red and grey, sleek and elegant. Bucky doesn’t dare touch it, but waits for an explanation. “This is Redwing,” she tells Bucky, as if that means something to him.

He’s watching it curiously but is startled when a voice comes out of it. “Hey there, Nellie Bly,” it says, and Bucky recognizes the smooth tenor of the man in her earpiece in the cabin. They’re on the roof. I’m compromised. The man with the wings. The wings he tore off his back in D.C. D.C., where he almost killed Steve. The voice continues, “you ready to get this show off the road?”

“There is no road here, Wilson, we’re at sea. Make it quick, before this one crushes your baby bird into a million pieces,” she quips, only half-joking with a wink at Bucky, certain he’ll take it well keeping in the mind the fact that she has, after all this time, disclosed to him her relation to Steve.

An undignified squawk issues from the metal bird. “Fine, fine. We’ve found you a refuge, somewhere safe to lay low until it’s safe for Barnes to be out in the world again. His name has been cleared for Vienna, but some people want punishment for the other crimes Hydra made him commit.” Wilson speaks slowly, steadily, addressing Bucky in third person but choosing his words very carefully. He appreciates that.

“I assume you sent Redwing to guide us there,” she says. 

Bucky imagines that the man with the wings nods as he answers, “Yeah. He’ll take you where you need to go.”

This induces a frown on her face, wrinkling her forehead as she looks at the metal bird like it has offended her. “I’d like if you could tell us where that is.”

“Wakanda,” Sam Wilson answers.

“But--”

“King T’Challa has opened his doors to you.

The frown deepens. Some part of him wonders how soft her skin would be if he reached up and smoothed out those lines with his human hand. “Why?”

“Ask him.”

“Sam.” she’s exasperated now, and there is a sigh on the other end. Sam Wilson has relayed all the information he can at this point in time. Bucky wonders if he’s worth all the effort it is taking to keep him out of the hands of the law, but he knows he should allow these people the dignity of their choice.

“We’ll meet you there. Take care of yourselves, and Redwing,” Wilson adds a lighthearted afternote, and Bucky ponders what kind of care this little machine might need. None at all, he assumes, if it was made by a Stark, and he’s aware that the Avengers are outfitted by him. The name sends a pang of guilt down his chest.

“Yeah, of course. Fine. Bye,” she finishes, her forlorn voice resigned.

“Bye.”

The call ends with a beep, and they are alone again, as before, with the exception of the metal bird, that she strokes a fingertip over. Sitting down on the deck, she leans against the side of the boat, and Bucky sits opposite. The boat is not wide enough to allow them to stretch out, leg to leg. His feet knock against her ankles, and she weaves them in between his sneakers.

Shoe, ankle, shoe, ankle. He watches her lay the bird on her lap gently. She moves her finger across a screen on the back of it, and a hologram appears, with a dot pulsating not far from where they are now. Once she’s seen it, proof of a destination to this endless chase, she shuts it down. Closes her eyes.

They sit there like that for a while, and Bucky allows himself the luxury of following the slope of her nose with his eyes, the look of calm on her relaxed mouth that he has previously only seen set in a grim line or a tight smirk. Anyone else might mistaken her position for sleep, but her breathing hasn’t evened out into the slow, soft inhales and exhales he remembers from that night they had to share a bed.

For a moment, he lets his mind wander back to the conversation in the rental car from Baghdad to Umm Qasr, when his name had been cleared for the attack in Vienna, and a second manhunt announced for the actual culprit.

-----

“I still don’t understand why they’d believe your testimony. You’re on the run with me,” Bucky says, his hands shifting on the wheel as a police car passes by. The highway is uncrowded, this early on a weekend, so he chances a look at her where she sits with her bottom lipped trapped between her teeth.

Her eyes are on the speedometer when she answers, “I wasn’t before, though.”

“You were surveilling me in secret on Captain America’s illegal orders. I was a wanted man. Not reporting me when you recognized me was a crime,” Bucky argues. He doesn’t actually care, surprising as that may seem. While he does like regaining control of his life, he has found that fate and its mechanisms are useless to speculate about. The questions, the argument, is banter, and that is more shocking than anything else. It worries him to think about when hearing her voice and engaging in conversation became important to him

“I’m a journalist, not a lawyer, James,” she reminds him.

“Bucky,” he corrects before he can help it. Then he thinks that he would say the same even if he could help it. They have worked their way to a first name basis, at least.

“Okay. Bucky. I guess even though what I was doing was illegal, it was still the truth. My daily reports to Steve proved that it couldn’t have been you.”

That makes sense, Bucky supposes. It’s a truth he has only slowly begun to reconcile with, and though there is still a part of him that simmers with anger at not being left alone, even when he was doing no harm, he thinks he might have done the same. Even now, there is a protective instinct that bubbles to keep him safe from all that he think he can handle. An intuition to protect the woman who saved him from what she has thrown herself into.

“Why did you agree to do it?” He asks.

She glances at him like it’s the clearest fact in the world, like he should know the answer to the question because it’s obvious. Her eyes are soft, as is her voice, when she answers deliberately:

“Because an innocent man’s life was at stake.”

-----

A helicopter drags him out of the memory with a jolt. The eastern coast of Africa is visible, a pebbled Tanzanian beach glowing in the distance. They lurch into action as a Bucky sees someone’s upper body leaning out of the chopper pointing a machine gun at them. 

The first shots hit the water where they stood as she jerks the boat sideways and speeds it up. They’ll make a crash landing but they’re more likely to survive that than the barrage of bullets coming their way and barely missing.

The boat leaves a giant wake as it speeds up and it won’t be much for cover if the chopper keeps speeding up, but it’s enough for Bucky to finally tug free his gun and aim at the top of the head he sees above the machine gun. 

One entire magazine is emptied out and wasted into the body of the aircraft, before he is almost knocked off his feet when the boat hits shore. She grabs both backpacks and he grabs her hand -- habit, now -- and they’re just in the cover of the trees, when she falls.

Blood is staining her shirt when he looks. She’s been shot.

[psyleedee]

The Equation of Love.

dean/castiel, jock!dean, nerd!castiel, smart!cas, love at first sight, footballer!dean, high school au, fluff, boys in love.

1.5k words. drabble.

-psyleedee.

It's a sunny summer morning, and Coach Singer has just blown the whistle, signifying their break from football practice.

That's when Dean really notices the boy sitting at the bleachers.

He noticed him first, when they were lined up and Coach Singer was explaining to the team about the upcoming finals, and their match with the rival high school from their neighboring county. The boy, with messy dark hair, as if he'd been electrocuted, with round, big blue eyes behind those thick black rimmed glasses, peering passionately into the pile of notebooks scattered around them, and his plush, pink lips mumbling to themselves.

Dean had found the boy odd. Firstly, owing to the fact that no one sat at the bleachers unless they wanted to smoke, make-out, or ogle at Dean and his team shirtless.

And this guy is studying? Wow.

Now that Dean has some time to himself, he decides, eh, what could possibly happen? Might as well go talk to the guy.

So here he is, standing at the edge of the bench the weird guy is sitting on, with his jersey shirt flung over his shoulder rather than draped around his chest, as it should be. What, Dean likes showing off his abs, he didn't work out for years straight to keep them hidden.

The boy doesn't spare him a glance. At first, Dean thinks he doesn't know Dean's there. But then there's a voice.

"I'm sorry, are you waiting for me?"

A deep, low tenor sound, and Dean is caught off-guard with how it sounds way deeper than it is supposed to. They're only eighteen, for god's sake.

"Erm, I, uh, I guess."

Then, the boy whips his beautiful, angel face up at Dean.

"Hello Dean."

"You know my name?"

"Are you not captain of the football team? Of course I know you're name."

Dean smiles, and considers it alright to slide onto the bench, next to Castiel, his thigh only inches away from Castiel's. The books around them are notebooks, composition notebooks, but they look old, overused, and part of Dean wants to grab one and read through it, but he knows better than to be disrespectful.

"I think you have me at a disadvantage then. Since you know my name, but I don't know yours."

"Oh," The boy grins with an awkward, hesitant smile, and quirks his glasses on his nose, drawing his shoulders in as he glances up at Dean, "-I'm Castiel. Castiel Novak."

"It's nice to meet you, Castiel. Mind if I just say Cas? Y'know, cause Castiel is too big. And I mean, I don't know, I just–"

"You like using single syllable words as nicknames. I noticed."

"Hm?"

"Just now, a while ago," Castiel starts, blue eyes meeting Dean's with a soft blush, "-you're brother, Samuel, and my friend from Robotics club, you called him Sam. Benjamin Lafitte, over there, you call him Ben, even though everyone else settles for Benny. Your other team member, the one you were passing the ball to, Victor, you call him Vic. So naturally, you must have some sort of weird attachment to reducing people's names to a single syllable. Of course, I admit, it provides much more ease, and it goes with the right flow of a sentence."

Dean falters. His lips hang open, his eyes are wide, and he's staring at the guy, Castiel, like a complete idiot.

He's also kinda' in love with him.

"Erm, sure, you can call me Cas. Heh."

Castiel smiles, and looks away, once again nibbling on his plump bottom lip with his eyebrows furrowed, and Dean feels a warmth unravel in his chest.

"Right, Cas. Whatcha' got there? Y'know, people generally come here to do... more inappropriate stuff."

Castiel's eyes go wide, and he freezes.

"Erm, what do you mean?"

"I mean, y'know, people they uh," alright, why am I of all people blushing like a goddamn baby right now, "-they uh, make out, get railed, y'know, high school shit."

"Ah. Oh. Oh, no, no, no, no, I'm not here to make out."

Castiel yelps, almost offended as he looks up at Dean. In response, Dean can only chuckle.

"Naw, you don't look like you have anyone to make out with either."

"You're here."

Castiel points out, and Dean gulps, trying to push away the image his mind brings to him in an instant, of the young, dark-haired boy disheveled and pink under Dean.

"No, I mean, as in, a girlfriend. Or boyfriends. Not me. Not strangers."

"Ah, right."

An odd, weird sort of silence ensues between them, before Dean silently reaches out and grabs one of the notebooks. He thumbs through the pages before flipping it open right in the middle. To his surprise, there's some bizarre, mad-scientist-esque equations and theories written in there, dotting almost every inch of the page, with random scribbles, random doodles, random words and–

"Hey," Castiel scolds, pulling the book out of Dean's hands.

"Easy tiger, not like I understand any of that chicken shit, and even if I did, trust me, I wouldn't steal your theories Einstein."

Castiel blushes, a soft, pink hue on his cheeks, and somehow, Dean wants to touch the warmth on his skin. He holds himself back though, but can't help staring at the boy in front of him.

"They're not– I'm not– it's just– argh–"

"Woah, what's wrong?"

Dean asks, scooting closer, and he slips an arm behind the boy to stretch his torso a bit.

"It's just... I've been working on this equation for days now. And it's just. Look, I'm trying to calculate a kick. Y'know, to a football. So, basically," Castiel shifts closer, unwittingly pressing into Dean's arms, and it sends a spurt of warmth unfurling within Dean's chest as the boy groans, and points over to the field.

"See, I'm assuming that's a constant position, and I'm assuming the average velocity of the ball, with your average kicking speed, but somehow, I can't manage to figure out where I'm going wrong with the, with the, with the, ugh."

Castiel sighs, and slumps back against Dean's shoulder, his lips turned down in a small pout, and some how, Dean can't help the small grin tugging at his lips.

Yup, Dean is kinda' in love.

"Look man, I'm not–"

"Of course."

Castiel pipes up, eyes going wide, as he rises, and stares down at the field. It seems like his Eureka moment, if Dean's being honest, and he can't help how adorable he finds the boy's excited grin. Castiel turns with a jerk, almost falls into Dean's lap, and before Dean knows it, he's being dragged onto the football field, and only when Castiel pauses, he turns to Dean.

"You stand right here, no moving."

Dean furrows his eyebrows, his face heating up when he catches Benny and Vic staring at him with a weird expression, not to mention the strange look Lisa Braeden and her band of girls is giving him from across the field. But then, Castiel is running back to him, a notebook in his hands, and he's mumbling something to himself.

"... velocity... thrice divided... speed... Got it."

Bright blue eyes meet Dean's for a moment, before Castiel slips under his arm, nudging him until he's leaning back, crouching down to measure something between his thigh and the ground, and Dean can only pretend he has any semblance of an idea of what Castiel is doing, but the boy just... he just looks so damn cute.

Dean is pretty in love with him.

"Got it. Got it. Got it!"

Castiel yells, gaping at his notebook, before he laughs, loud and rumbly, and flings his arms around Dean.

One moment Dean's standing frozen to the ground, the next moment Castiel Novak is hugging the life out of him.

Dean trips on his ankle, struck by Castiel's sudden weight on him, and both boys go stumbling down with a grunt, Castiel's notebook falling beside them with a thud. All at once, there is a puff of soft, warm breath on his face, and big, blue eyes staring down at him.

Dean is in love.

Tiny, soft hands press into Dean's chest as Castiel jolts up, his legs straddling Dean's hips. Dean sucks in a breath and pushes himself up until he's sitting on the mud, his eyes lost within Castiel's. Castiel simply smiles, clears his throat and blinks in confusion. Castiel's glasses are set awry on his nose, and as endearing as he looks, somehow, Dean gives in to his urge to reach up and fix them, only to be fixed with a gentle, dazed stare.

"Dean."

"Cas."

Dean gulps, and finds his hands sliding around Castiel's hips. As if the mere touch or Dean's skin burns, Castiel blushes, and pulls his hands off Dean's chest.

"Sorry, erm, sorry, I didn't mean to, uh–"

"Hey Cas?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm falling in love with you."

Castiel's jaw drops open, and all he can do is gape at Dean.

"What?" He croaks.

"Too late," Dean breathes, hands reaching up to cup Castiel's face, "-I think already am."

[diskwrite-ffxiv]

ffxivwrite2021 - #25 Silver Lining

Ala Mhigo, 1552 6AE

The innards of the convoy stank with the familiar reek of piss and shite and the sweat of unwashed bodies jammed together too close, tinged with the metallic undertone of old blood. But there were only eight of them clenched in cavernous darkness, including herself- distantly Ojene had counted them as they were loaded in- left with no sense of where they were or where they were going save for the fact that they were moving as the thrum of the ceruleum engine vibrated beneath their feet, punctuated by a sharp lurch now and again as the vehicle took a turn, thumping Ojene’s shoulder into the metal wall.

Dimly she was aware that some of the others were speaking, their voices low and furtive. But she couldn’t recall a single thing said, as if the sound drifted into one ear and slipped out the other with little more than a shallow imprint that left her with the sense that something had happened, but she couldn’t say what.

It was just as well. Curled up in a corner she rested with eyes closed- not that it made a difference- aware of little else but the tepid beat of her heart in her ears and the everlasting ache in her left arm.

The muted whine of wheels and the heave of the floor forward then back brought her to her senses as the engine’s vibrations cut out, and the persistent sense of movement halted. So did the voices, if only for a beat before they launched into new vocalizations, heated and urgent.

A resounding bang echoed through the convoy’s innards, and with a sharp metallic shriek the world turned white. Wincing, Ojene flung her arms up- the manacles around her wrists clattered as she buried her face in the crook of an elbow, squinting vociferously against the pour of light as footsteps thudded in- the sharp retort of metal boots to a cermet floor.

“Get up!” cracked a voice. “One at a time, file out.”

As the pain receded the shapes around her began to resolve, throwing the Garlean soldier into sharp relief. A sword bristled in his hand, and he thrust it demonstratively towards the huddled lumps hazed into vague definition beyond the brilliant line demarcating the dark.

They obeyed, sheltering their eyes as they stumbled forward out the open lip of the convoy, the chains on their ankles turning each step into a commotion of steel. Ojene watched as the first stepped out, then the second, til finally she peeled herself from the floor. It was a miracle her knees held as she staggered forward, but she kept her eyes averted to the ground as she passed the soldier and stepped off the edge.

On the first heartbeat she was blind. She thrust her face back into her arm, and her throat crackled as a low hiss slipped between her teeth. A peculiar sensation twitched at her skin, prickling all the hairs on her arms to stand, when all at once realization flooded in. With a quiet gasp she dropped her arm. The light assaulted her, driving her eyes to slits, but she forced through, blinking rapidly until vision seeped back.

It had been so long. A lifetime, it felt like. She’d been treated to light this bright now and again, the sear of a ceruleum glow so concentrated it blazed like white fire directly into her eyes. But this wasn’t the unnatural light of Imperial machination, nor even the duller burn of a normal flame. And the sensation pillowing on her skin wasn’t the occasional gust through a vent, nor the humid mustiness of breath. This was fresh- alive. Real.

It was the breeze. Trickling against her like the subtle pull of a creek. And the light, warm and potent, was the consecration of the sun.

Ojene turned her head upwards, and the sun’s rays fell in graceful fingers against her cheeks, casting a gentle heat into her skin. Squinting still she searched for the source, and above the crest of the Royal Palace she found it- the brilliant orb hanging in a clear blue expanse. Like a comet, she thought absently, pointing her on.

A smile crept onto her face. How quaint it was, that the Garleans should bring her this gift! To take her here upon the roads of Ala Mhigo, beneath the open sky.

But just as an unidentifiable sound began to burble up in her throat, a surge of awareness struck her as the clamour of voices folded itself out of the blank fuzz of her senses. And as the two prisoners in front of her stepped forward her thoughts hastily ratcheted through what she’d missed- their orders. She hurried forward.

There were more soldiers walking astride them now, she distantly noted, each one of them visibly armed. A couple officers here and there, from the gunblades clasped at their sides. And beyond them- a crowd? Yes, that was it- a collection of people of all sorts lined the streets, shifting about on their feet. There was an energy about them she couldn’t quite place, a frenetic quality as if the lot of them had collectively held a breath.

Perhaps it was the soldiers posted around, black dots here and there in entryways and corners. Or the line of Garleans they approach, standing at attention. And just past them-

She wasn’t quite aware of her feet, numb as they were. It was for the best, for if she had any more self-possession she might have stopped short. For behind the line of expectant soldiers stood their destination- it could only be that. A gallows, long and accommodating with five waiting nooses.

Sensation curdled in her stomach, and Ojene lost all notion of her fingers. A strangeness fluttered in her chest, like the scintillation of a butterfly’s wings, and her chains rattled as she clenched her hands tight.

They were finally discarding her. She supposed she should be happy. It was after all what she had wished for, spitting blood and bile onto a stone floor she could barely see. An end to this, one way or the other. And she’d known, deep down, that no matter how hard she clung to the fantasy of slipping free, this would always be the result. It was just a question of when.

An odd sense of loss bubbled in her middle. Strange, given that she’d known she was a dead woman for weeks. Moons- years maybe. Perhaps she could imagine Sylbfohc’s face one last time. Yet as she groped for him all sense of it slipped away, a mirage to her fingers. A faint rumble burbled from her throat, splintered and hoarse, and as she squeezed her eyes shut the corners of her eyes burned.

There was no sense in mourning it. The wooden stairs were warm beneath her bare feet as she climbed, and the shadow of the noose fell across her face. It was a bit too long, a distant thread of thought noted grimly, knotted for someone shorter. A fact that promised an elongated death.

Even so, it would be over soon.

Five of them lined up in their places, and one of the officers stepped in front, facing the anonymous sea of faces upturned from beyond the line of Garleans.

“Mark this day!” the officer bellowed, her voice buzzed through the enclosed pipe of her helmet. “You stand witness to the hanging of eight traitors to the Garlean Empire.”

Movement caught the corner of Ojene’s eye, and she tilted her head slightly to see a soldier settling a noose around the neck of the first prisoner, a Hellsguard woman whose arm was chained to her side, for her second arm was gone. Her eyes bored into the wooden platform, sullen but blazing.

“It is the will of Gaius van Baelsar that you look upon their faces and study them well, for theirs is the fate meted out to all who defy his will. Anyone who affiliates with the so-called resistance will join them. And so will their families, down to the last parent and child.”

The noose drew sharply into place around the neck of the second prisoner, a short Highlander boy who couldn’t be more than fourteen. His body shook with shivering force, but to his credit he stared forward.

“We will tolerate no challenges, nor brook any dissent. Our demands upon you are simple, to follow the law and pay your tithe. Nothing about this should surprise you. But if your memory has lapsed, then simply look up to these gallows and watch.”

Ojene felt rather than heard the footsteps of the soldier as they drew up to her shoulder. Sensed the presence of their arms as they reached for the rope. She closed her eyes, and despite the rapid flutter of her pulse a peculiar sense of calm settled over her. Twine brushed the top of her head, then slid over her neck.

But as she felt the length of it move, rough fibers scraping against her skin as the soldier prepared to jerk it tight, a small hollow pop resounded under the rising tenor of the speech. The shifting rope stopped short.

“What-” she heard the soldier mutter under their breath.

A sharp crack retorted, and in a blink of an eye Ojene’s vision went white.

“No-” she heard the soldier’s sharp exclamation behind her, but other voices rang out in sharp cries of alarm as a series of answering cracks filled the air like hails of gunfire.

A chaos of sound erupted, pouring with heavy footfalls and the sharp bark of orders drowned out by the crashing screams of the crowd. Ojene turned, or tried to- one leg buckled beneath her, and though the rope was slack it barred against her throat. Stars sparked before her eyes, and her feet desperately groped for purchase as she pushed herself upright, grasping at the rope with a sharp gasp.

She stood there numbly, seeing nothing as her fingers looped between the rope and her neck, when a figure billowed through the whiteness, a vague shape darting into view then out again. Smoke bombs, she realized belatedly. But who-

A hand shot from the smoke and seized her arm- the grip squeezed down on the old break and pain sparked up her shoulder.

“Come on!” barked a voice, and a face surged out of the smoke. A Highlander, her eyes half-concealed by her brown hair splayed across them, a bandana wrapped over her nose and mouth. Beneath the loose collar of her sweeping Ala Mhigan robes, a slip of leather armor protruded.

Resistance, Ojene’s thoughts stuttered. It had to be. But that idea was a single disconnected thread pulled from the morass left of her mind. Her body froze around the impossibility, the ludicrousness, as if her reality splintered leaving all agency somewhere else apart. She didn’t move.

The woman loosed a low frustrated sound from her throat, and all at once she seized the noose and ripped it away. The ground dropped out from Ojene’s feet, yet she didn’t fall- instead she was left with the odd sensation that she was floating sideways through the air, with a weight clasped around one of her legs and the other hooked over her arm.

She’d been flung over the woman’s shoulders, Ojene realized in a start, and every pounding step the woman took jostled her bony side against the Highlander’s head.

“How-” Ojene whispered into the smoke, but the fangs of skirmish drowned her out, shattering the air in the sharp retort of metal on metal. The crack of wood. A halting scream.

Her head tilted, straining against her shoulder. Peering back the way they’d come- or at least the way she’d thought they came. It was impossible to tell, for though the smoke had begun to thin, disgorging the tempest of shapes reeling and crashing in vague silhouettes, the noose had already vanished out of sight.

It was odd, as her rescuer’s feet thundered against Ala Mhigan brick, carting her away, but for the second time Ojene’s middle bubbled with a strange sense of loss.

They spilled out of the far edge of the smoke into an empty alley, and the Highlander broke into a full-tilt run.

((@sea-wolf-coast-to-coast))

[sophisticated-creepy]

Love is Stranger than Fiction by: Melissa Sain

         She loved his hands the most. They were strong, confident, and long of finger; firm in the ways of an artist, and masterful in the ways of a lover. Her sight trailed from his hands up to his forearms where she lingered her half-lidded gaze on the tight planes, watching as he turned the pages of his book, causing the muscles to shift and flex ever so slightly in their movements. Her heart skipped a beat at the image and a smile began to curl the corner of her mouth. From his forearms she watched his bare chest. The steady rise and fall of his breathing was gentle. Lying there, stretched out on the bed as he was, with sheets pulled up to his waist and pillows supporting his broad shoulders, Lola drank in the appearance of her husband. Of all the places her eyes drifted, however, she daren’t cast a look upon his face. An unsound fear gave her pause, believing if she were to take in his countenance, the comforting spell of tranquility would be lost.

         “Lola, my love, is there something I can help you with?” her husband asked. He closed his book, letting it rest in his lap as he turned his head towards his wife with a mischievous smirk upon his lips. Lola blinked, startled from her reverie. She stared at his impish grin and cocky eyebrow before blushing violently and burying her face into the pillow next to him as she shyly giggled at being caught staring.

         “You were thinking awful loudly,” he continued playfully. “Care to share with the rest of the class what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Lola regained her composure, peeking over the pillow before turning on her side, propping herself up on her elbow to answer him.

         “Well, I was thinking of you,” she replied.

         “Perfect.”

         “And us,” she continued.

         “Go on,” he encouraged roguishly, turning on his side to mirror his wife.

         “And how lucky I am to have you in my life,” she concluded with a sigh. “Sometimes, I can’t believe that you’re real, that you’re here, with me. It feels like a dream, and I find myself trying to memorize you in case I wake up.” Lola stared deep into her husband’s passionate, sapphire colored eyes. “Raphael,” she breathed, “promise me I won’t wake up.” Raphael smiled warmly at his wife and leaned into her so their foreheads touched.

         “I hate to break it to you, my sweet, but you are awake, and I am here, with you, and I am most assuredly real.” His warmth was infectious, and Lola melted under his words while nuzzling closer to him. He assisted her towards him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, embracing her against his firm body. He placed his chin on top of her head as she rested against the side of his neck contentedly. “You know, if it’ll set your mind at ease, I could prove to you how real I am,” Raphael suggested, feigning innocence. Lola grinned as she felt his deep voice vibrate from his throat on the top of her head.

         “Oh? And how would you go about proving something like that?” Lola inquired.

         “For starters, I could kiss you,” Raphael stated, and to prove his point, softly kissed her forehead in the place slightly above the spot between her eyebrows. “I could touch you,” he added, and began to lightly tickle her over the sheets. She girlishly squealed and swatted him away. “Or,” he continued, “I could do this.” Raphael sat up in bed, placed his hands on Lola’s hips, and gently positioned her to sit directly across from him so they were eye to eye. Once settled, he scooped up his wife’s left hand and placed it so her palm rested on his chest over his heart.

         “This is how you will know I am real,” he tenderly spoke. “My heart is your heart. You need never doubt that it is the beating heart of a man who shares his life with you, who will protect and keep you as your husband, as your lover, and as your friend.”

         Lola stared at her hand concealing Raphael’s heart. She could feel the soft rhythm beneath her palm, the consistent thrum of the muscle reassuring her that the man before her was real and loved her. She felt wrapped in a blanket woven of honey, hypnotized from the warmth of her husband’s speech and intimate gestures. She knew she was being silly in thinking her husband wasn’t “real”, but the fact that he indulged her whimsy revealed the depth of his love for her.

         “My heart is your heart,” Lola repeated. She mimicked his actions and led his own hand to splay between her breasts. His massive palm covered the vulnerable surface and then some, and feeling him pressed against her chest made her heart flutter with the beginning stirrings of passion. Husband and wife met one another’s gaze as an unspoken yearning began to manifest. Lola felt Raphael’s heart quicken. His eyes betrayed his thoughts of desire. Her own heart was quick to join him, and the two became in sync with the thrill of feeling the other’s response to the growing heat between them. Lola’s breath caught short with eager expectancy as Raphael began to lean towards her, a sultry grin playing on his lips for what lay in store for his beloved. With his free arm, he encircled her waist while getting to his knees, and dipped her backwards, lowering her to the mattress, hovering over her. The hunger of wanting the other was maddening.

         Raphael came to his wife, breathing in her aroma, the lingering notes of vanilla and roses of her perfume wafting towards him as he gently pressed feather light lips to her neck. Her skin prickled pleasantly at the touch. She closed her eyes, absorbing his lips explore her neck, her ears, her jaw, until finally, her lips. The spark that ignited whenever they kissed went beyond predictable amorous description. It was the kiss of a soulmate; a sensation of true love’s purest form. Eventually, they parted. There was no sense delaying what they craved. Raphael took his man tool---.

         “Eww. ‘Man tool’?” Lola glared at her computer screen, scrutinizing the last paragraph in the middle of the word document. “’There was no sense delaying what they craved’,” she read aloud. She gave a short, critical laugh of derision at her own poor choice of words. “If that doesn’t kill a mood, I don’t know what will.” She shook her head in disappointment, the harsh clack of the back space key erasing any trace of the husband character’s unfairly ill-described lower anatomical region. Lola sighed, leaning back in her desk chair, tapping her forefinger impatiently against her laptop as she debated on how to handle the scene in front of her. Should she expound upon the interplay of the lovers or just go straight for the sex?

         “Come on, brain,” Lola encouraged herself. “Don’t quit on me yet.” She could feel the writer’s block beginning to cloud underneath her forehead, slowly crawling its way towards her temples, blooming into a full blown fog of nothingness. Too little too late, she knew the creative muse was gone. “Damn. And just when it was getting good.”

         A breeze rustled the trees outside Lola’s window, sweeping through the leafy foliage, causing the little chickadees to alight from the dense crowding of branches. The springtime sunshine warmly lit the area where Lola had set up her writing space, and with a slight turn of her head, she had a perfect view of the lush greenery of the historic city park just below her eaves. The old train station was across the way, and behind that, a river cut through the land, its banks dotted with willow trees. The old Catholic church’s bell tower began to sound the hour, its deep tenor resounding boldly through the town. Lola blinked away her daydream, the peal startling her back into the present.

         “How is it already one o’clock? I’m gonna be late!” Lola shot up from her chair, her hip colliding with the edge of her desk causing her to jostle her half-finished cup of coffee, sloshing lukewarm liquid over scattered pieces of scrap paper. “Shit,” she cursed. “I’ll clean that up later,” she mumbled with annoyance, dabbing at the puddle with a nearby potholder from lunch. She saved her work then closed the lid of her laptop while turning towards the main living portion of her tiny loft. “Okay, babies, Mama’s leaving,” Lola called out to her sleeping cats. They were used to her frantic movements and so stayed comfortably dozing on blanketed dappled chairs or patches of sunbeam on the carpet.

         Lola grabbed an oversized denim button front and an old linen backpack she used as a purse before calling out to her babies once more. “Behave, my honey bunches. Mama loves!” And with that, she was out the door, skipping down the fire escape. She rounded the railing towards the side of the house, found her bike, and quickly hopped on, pushing off with a spurt and began gliding down the sidewalk. She gave a final wave to her home before riding away. Lola lived in the heart of historic Main Street, the epicenter of antique shopping and restaurant-ing, in a renovated loft above a quilting shop. Like the little shop she lived above, the town was quaint and charming, embodying the nature of a quilt: diverse, close knit, and with a story at every turn.

         This pie in the sky town was perfect for a young woman such as Lola. At the end of the historic district, the night life came alive with popular bars and coffeehouses.  Up the street were more modern accommodations such as the Cineplex and highways to local malls, shops, and other normal day-to-day activities, but for this one strip of road, all of that noise faded away. What was left was a peaceful park, a murmuring river, and the clattering of footsteps on cobblestone walkways as shoppers visited one store to the next. Or, as Lola simply called it: magic. Lola fully believed magic encompassed the town. The buildings, the trees, even the wind itself bore magic, and for the enthusiastic dreamer that Lola was, she thrived in that type of creative atmosphere.

         Even now, as she rode her bike to her job at a high-end lotion and bath boutique, Lola was lost, yet again, in another daydream. She perpetually lived in a state of dreaming, which often got her in trouble at work for accidentally ignoring customers. She was the cliché character who stopped to smell the roses, but where she differentiated from others, was to then follow the bee she found in the fragrant blooms, and thus become its companion, and accompany him on the journey of its winged flight, getting lost in the adventures and mysteries of a new dream.  Most would call her weird.  Some, naïve, but for what truly mattered, was that Lola called herself happy.

         Usually, she was happy. There were times when Lola found herself unbearably lonely. Yes, she had friends and family to keep her occupied, yet when the day had ended, and all had gone his or her separate way, she was left alone, in a tiny renovated apartment above a quilting shop, with no one aside from her cats and her writing. Lola turned to writing when her soul yearned intimacy the most. At first, she wrote little paragraphs of made up characters doing made up things, and though that helped to stem the void, she still felt lacking. Her characters were flat, her “plots” laughable, until one day she decided to place herself in her stories, and there with her side by side was the figure of her heart’s desire.

         Raphael was literally everything she wanted in a counterpart because that’s how she wrote him. It was odd the way he fit into her life. His persona flowed onto the page in ways Lola found unexpected, and going where her pen led her, let his words challenge her. His actions strengthened her, and his romance filled her. Lola was able to explore with Raphael all aspects of their fictional life in a numerous variety of genera. She placed them in fantasy, the supernatural, adventure, it made no difference. When the two of them were together, it simply worked. In the heart of her stories was just that: her heart. And this character, Raphael, had hers.

         Lola sighed, her mind elsewhere as she rode through the town. The boutique she worked at was near the end of the historic district next to the start of the coffeehouses. With the wind at her back she made good time and reached the boutique with ease. She gave the bike one final push of the pedal before kicking her left leg over to join the right so she was in a side-saddle position the remainder of the distance, gliding to a smooth and, in her opinion, fashionable stop. After hopping to the ground and chaining up her transportation, she turned to face the park, not wanting to part with the beauty of spring placed before her. She breathed in the honeysuckle drenched air before finding the doorknob to the back of the store, and with a final glance at the splendor of spring, turned, and went inside. 

~~~

[bigskydreaming]

Speaking of Riley and other friends who are excellent, allow me to take a moment to pimp some of their books if anyone’s got some spare coin and is looking for good reads while on lockdown.

Noteworthy by Riley Redgate

It’s the start of Jordan Sun’s junior year at the Kensington-Blaine Boarding School for the Performing Arts. Unfortunately, she’s an Alto 2, which—in the musical theatre world—is sort of like being a vulture in the wild: She has a spot in the ecosystem, but nobody’s falling over themselves to express their appreciation. So it’s no surprise when she gets shut out of the fall musical for the third year straight. But then the school gets a mass email: A spot has opened up in the Sharpshooters, Kensington’s elite a cappella octet. Worshiped . . . revered . . . all male. Desperate to prove herself, Jordan auditions in her most convincing drag, and it turns out that Jordan Sun, Tenor 1, is exactly what the Sharps are looking for.

Rio’s got two other books you should also check out, I just grabbed this one at random because they’re all great (though its actually ‘7 Ways We Lie’ that’s my personal fave because Reasons).

Forest of Souls by Lori M Lee

Sirscha Ashwyn comes from nothing, but she’s intent on becoming something. After years of training to become the queen’s next royal spy, her plans are derailed when shamans attack and kill her best friend Saengo.

And then Sirscha, somehow, restores Saengo to life.

Unveiled as the first soulguide in living memory, Sirscha is summoned to the domain of the Spider King. For centuries, he has used his influence over the Dead Wood—an ancient forest possessed by souls—to enforce peace between the kingdoms. Now, with the trees growing wild and untamed, only a soulguide can restrain them. As war looms, Sirscha must master her newly awakened abilities before the trees shatter the brittle peace, or worse, claim Saengo, the friend she would die for.

This one is the start of a new duology and doesn’t actually come out until June 23rd, but Lori’s got a couple other books out already that are also worth the read. Her Infinite series starts with Gates of Thread and Stone and has the first two books out, there will be a concluding third volume still to come. But I’m lucky enough to have gotten to read Forest of Souls in advance cuz Nyah nyah (I’m so mature, phear my age and wisdom) and its by faaaaar my favorite of hers to date, including more than just the other two books she’s had published so far, and just look at that cover. Ugh. I love it so much. 

(It wasn’t her original cover, actually, they originally wanted to go with this cover of Suck that made me go umm how do you say “Eww” in polite, and authors have little to no feedback they can give on the cover, but Lori took a shot and sent in some examples of other cover artists she really liked and thought had styles fitting her image of the book better, and they picked one of the ones she sent and commissioned a whole new cover, and voila, ended up going with the above cover in all its spooky, thematically ominous glory.) 

On The Edge of Gone by Corinne Duyvis

A thrilling, thought-provoking novel from one of young-adult literature’s boldest new talents. January 29, 2035. That’s the day the comet is scheduled to hit—the big one. Denise and her mother and sister, Iris, have been assigned to a temporary shelter outside their hometown of Amsterdam to wait out the blast, but Iris is nowhere to be found, and at the rate Denise’s drug-addicted mother is going, they’ll never reach the shelter in time. A last-minute meeting leads them to something better than a temporary shelter—a generation ship, scheduled to leave Earth behind to colonize new worlds after the comet hits. But everyone on the ship has been chosen because of their usefulness. Denise is autistic and fears that she’ll never be allowed to stay. Can she obtain a spot before the ship takes flight? What about her mother and sister? When the future of the human race is at stake, whose lives matter most?

Cory is actually one of my oldest friends lmao, like, I first met her through another writing friend when we both roleplayed on this messageboard X-Men: Evolution RPG over fifteen years ago, and just....somehow never lost track of each other through all our various hyper-fixations and divergent fandoms and even with years-long ‘vanishing from the internet’ periods by yours truly (I am was mysterious and enigmatic, hear me roar). This is actually her third published novel? Or maybe second, I forget the order....her first, Otherbound, is great too, she’s written a Guardians of the Galaxy tie-in novel for Marvel, and she’s got her next book, “The Art of Saving the World” coming out this September, and its soooo good and head-trippy and the premise is so mindfucky that I have no idea how she pulled it off as well as she did and its great and you will love it or you will answer to me (lol no you won’t, I am all talk, I bruise like a peach, don’t doxx me yo). But On The Edge of Gone remains my personal fave of hers, Denise is an in-text disabled autistic black girl and suuuuuuch a fantastic main character, and her love for her family against the backdrop of an apocalypse actually in its on-going stage, no post about it, is like.....unfortunately a little too prophetic in various ways, lolol, but like, timely as hell and resonates. 

Not Your Sidekick by C.B. Lee

Welcome to Andover, where superpowers are common, but internships are complicated. Just ask high school nobody, Jessica Tran. Despite her heroic lineage, Jess is resigned to a life without superpowers and is merely looking to beef up her college applications when she stumbles upon the perfect (paid!) internship--only it turns out to be for the towns most heinous supervillain. On the upside, she gets to work with her longtime secret crush, Abby, whom Jess thinks may have a secret of her own. Then theres the budding attraction to her fellow intern, the mysterious “M,” who never seems to be in the same place as Abby. But what starts as a fun way to spite her superhero parents takes a sudden and dangerous turn when she uncovers a plot larger than heroes and villains altogether.

I actually met C.B. on tumblr here, via this account, thanks to a mutual mutual, which just goes to show you never know who you might end up meeting on tumblr dot hellsite dot org, and only after that fact did we find out that we had various other mutual friends from our writing/publishing circles of friends, including Cory, lolol, so y’know....small world. But this series has three books out, with a fourth to come, and its such awesome fun, with superpower hijinks galore, an Asian protag and tons of LGBTQ+ supporting characters, trans superheroes, and compelling plots. She’s also writing Ben 10 comics for Boom! Studios, a comic book company that does original content but also publishes a ton of licensed properties like various other cartoons like Ben 10, the Power Rangers, etc, etc. And this reminds me there’s a certain story she was working on the last time we met up for coffee like, lololol probably three years ago now, which means I am way overdue to bug her about it and ask “Is it done yet is it done yet can I read it yet is it done yet” because I am a paragon of patience and a bastion of self-control, obvsly.

Anyway, here endeth the pimping of my friends, go forth and buy ye their novels, verily and such. Or y’know. Don’t. If you don’t want to be cool, I guess. Nerds. (LOL no but if you like my content and posts and topics I think you stand a better than average likelihood of enjoying at least one of the books by the aforementioned ladies, and you’d be supporting LGBTQ+ authors as there’s nary a straight among them. LOL, like I would ever have straight friends, hahahaha could you imagine, what would we even do).  

[hes-writer]

Just A Little Bit of Your Heart (2)

Summary: Harry and Y/N are in an open relationship

Warnings: angst and a teensy bit of smut?

Word Count: 4870 words

A/N: unedited cause it’s late at night but I wanna post it now so I could read your guys’ comments tomorrow morning :)

Y/N woke up with no indents of Harry’s body creased on the navy blue sheets of their bed, indicating that he didn’t come home last night and probably spent the rest of the evening at some lesser known hotel to avoid the attention. She sighed, already used to it but the stabbing pain in her chest didn’t come any softer. She had just woken up and her mood was ruined, but she knew she couldn’t let this affect her for the whole day.

Y/N slipped her feet into the fuzzy slippers by her side of the bed, feet shuffling lazily on the hardwood flooring leading to the bathroom where she freshened up for the day. Grabbing her towel, she hung it on the rack before sliding the glass door of the standing shower to the side to let her hand in through the crack and turn the water knob on. The stream of water took her by surprise, jumping a few centimeters off the ground. Y/N waited until it was warm enough for her liking before stripping off of her pajamas, leaving it huddled on the marble floor.

The hot jets massaged her sore muscles and wiped off the excess makeup that the makeup remover and night wash couldn’t get off. It was relieving, to say the least, and she slowly felt her body relax against the open air of the shower space. While cleaning her body with soap, she was taken by surprise when a gruff voice cut off her slightly off time singing and cold arms wrapping themselves around her body.

“Hey love,” Harry murmured against the name of her neck.

She turned around to face him, her breath meeting the expanse of his tanned chest. Y/N inspected his face; glowing and bright. Although she was happy that his skin was thriving, the reasoning behind as to why that was was something that Y/N wasn’t ready to proclaim.

“When did you get home?” Y/N littered small kisses on his jawline, feeling the rough stubble of his five o’clock shadow.

“Couple of minutes ago,” He answered, tilting his head up to catch the water on his mop of hair, getting the strands wet and damp.

Y/N caught sight of the dark hickeys dotted on his neck–and chest–to which she hadn’t seen earlier because of his unexpected arrival. The lighting glimmered a new area of his skin where marks of infidelity decorated him. Some of them were bruised while others were a light shading of red—but all of them proved that Harry did shag the woman in the red dress last night. Somehow, Y/N had convinced herself to always see the good in Harry and that meant creating scenarios where he rejects any women who weren’t her in their advances. She was sadly disproven once again.

Harry looked down at her when he felt her fingers tracing the bruises, hissing slightly when she tapped a bit harsher than usual. In an odd way, Y/N felt a sense of smugness knowing that he was hurting. She saw it as a way of punishing him for being away from her for another night. Another lonely time laying in bed where she wondered what she could’ve done better.

“Ouch!” He wheezed, wincing at the pain when she pressed on the purple one by his left pec.

Y/N ignored his complaint, advising him to turn around so she could clean his back off the sweat and brine that must’ve built up in the span of twenty-four hours. What she saw made her gasp; completely horrified by the scarlet lacerated marks striping his back muscles.

“Is it that bad?” His head glanced over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of the traces that caused a dull pain on his back. He knew they were there ever since he woke up this morning with a sore torso. The cab driver he hitched a ride for stared at him from the mirror when Harry jolted his back upright as soon as it rubbed against the leather seat, laughing sarcastically at his pain.

——

“I know who you are,” The driver uttered, eyes catching his green ones once in a while. “Does your lady know about this?”

Harry fumed as he was not ready for the mimicry this early in the morning, “Please keep quiet. I’m paying you for your service,”

——

Yes, it was pretty bad. If anything, it looked like a rabid cat scratched its claws deep into his soft skin and ripped the first surface, resulting in welts. Y/N thought that some of them were even bleeding.

“Very bad,”

Harry and YN dried themselves off a few minutes later. Harry carefully patting his body dry to not irritate the swollen skin.

Y/N instructed him to lay down on the bed so that she could rub some ointment on the welt marks. “I hate this,”

Harry hummed in response, completely clueless as to what she was talking about. “What do you hate?”

“The marks, the hickeys and the scratches, H” She spoke mindlessly, her fingertip acquiring a penny sized amount.

“Are you saying you want to end this?” This, as in, the open relationship they’d placed upon them self. Either one of them could stop it at any time but Y/N couldn’t bring herself to hold her ground. They’ve not been like a normal couple in ages and if they did stop this, it would be difficult to act all sweetly—like they didn’t just love on another body weeks previous.  “Y/N?”

She shook her head, “N-no I don’t” and she hated herself for being so weak–despite what the media made her out to be–because she was hurting twofold but seeing Harry take full advantage of their agreement made her feel guilty for taking away something that he enjoyed in his life. “I just don’t like how they leave marks on you,”

Harry scoffed, “Sorry, some of them like it rough,”

She pinched his skin between her fingers causing him to groan in pain.

“I don’t even know who they are but they always find a way to make themselves known,” Y/N said sadly.

She wasn’t stupid—of course, he was seeing people behind her back (and right in front of her) but if she didn’t know their name or saw how they looked like—she could pretend that they weren’t real and it made her feel a bit better; delusional, but better. But seeing his skin tainted with their wake left her astonished at how gradually pieces of Harry was being taken from her hold. His heart was still hers—as far as she was concerned—but his body was being metaphorically split between women that she didn’t know. Y/N was sharing her love with people who mostly only slept with him for the sake of it—because of who he was and not because they shared the intimate affections that her and Harry once gave to each other.

———-

It was a stupid idea; emphasis on stupid. Looking back in retrospect, there were better ways to handle what had happened between the two of them. Y/N came home one day tired from shooting scenes for her new movie. One click to her phone downed her mood even more because of the news that Harry had been papped with Kendall at a club. Now, of course, they’ve had talks about who to and not trust but the pictures spoke for themselves.

“What is this?” She said sternly as soon as Harry entered the doorway of their bedroom.

“I’m guessing you saw,”

“Of course I did,” Y/N crossed her arms across her chest, standing up from her having her legs crossed. “Care to explain yourself?”

“I didn’t cheat on you,” He noted right away.

She nodded, a small breath of relief made its way out of her mouth, “That’s good to know,”

“I almost did, though” Harry admitted, eyes searching hers for some sort of emotion that he could use to justify his actions. Just like that, the weight on her shoulders dropped heavily.

“Y-you what?”

He sighed, closing the gap between them and taking her hands into his large palms. “I’m not gonna lie to you, Y/N. I almost kissed Kendall today, plenty of times actually, but I didn’t.”

Y/N rolled her eyes at him, “So what? Should I be grateful that you didn’t kiss her?”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” He answered, voice deepening in a tenor note, “I thought about it long and hard on the way home,” She cocked an eyebrow at him to continue. “I think it’s better if we break it off,”

“Break it off?” Y/N repeated, annunciating his words. No matter how infuriated she was at him, she didn’t think she could handle breaking up with Harry.

He gulped, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, “If I was having thoughts about kissing another girl, then maybe … maybe it would be best if we broke up,” Harry explain his thoughts briefly, “I wouldn’t want to cheat on you either,”

“Do you like her?”

Harry’s curls bounced when he shook his head, “Do you still love me?” He nodded, “Then why are you leaving me?”

His palm glossed over his angelic features, “I just wanted to try kissing her,”

“That’s absolutely ridiculous,” Y/N concluded. What kind of sick joke was he playing at?

“I know it’s crazy but please try to understand. I’m trying to figure this out too,”

And from then, she briefly remembered her old self suggesting an open relationship. Her friend had talked about it once before, indicating that it was the best decision she’d ever made in her life. Both partners were free to fuck and kiss any other person but their hearts were still loyal to each other. Y/N found it quite concerning as she believed that if two people really loved each other—then they would give everything in exchange, even their bodies and not just their hearts. However, it also gave both parties freedom and liberation to explore something that their current partners might not be into—it was something that greatly defined Y/N and causes her to shiver in disgust. Sure, she preferred as others would call ‘vanilla’ sex most of the time, but that was only because she would like to be cared for in her most vulnerable moments; she didn’t know that it would be the cause of a massive downfall in her and Harry’s relationship.

They were both busy and it was pretty accurate. Y/N didn’t have enough time for Harry and Harry certainly didn’t make her feel any special in the few months leading up to their decision of such a relationship. So it was no surprise that Harry jumped at the opportunity when she suggested it. His eyes twinkled in delight and his smile held a certain degree of mischief that would soon be expressed in rough fucking the next day. Needless to say, YN had to sit through the story of how Harry absolutely ruined Kendall (in terms of orgasms). She didn’t ask, but he was too excited to thank her for her suggestion. The marks on his hips confirmed his words and truth to be told, she almost gagged while Y/N was riding him.

She felt absolutely used and dirty knowing that another woman had touched him the way she was doing it right now and he didn’t even seem bothered! The bliss on his face kept her going, hoping that he would cease his actions right at the beginning and realize that he didn’t need other women because Y/N was there for him—in more ways than one.

Obviously, it didn’t.

——

As soon as pictures of Shawn and Y/N were released on the Internet, there was no doubt that Harry’s blood boiled upon seeing it.  His eyes widened at the phone screen and he gaped at Y/N getting dressed at one corner of the room while sat back the bed with his legs stretched out. Of course, they were going to be leaving with each other; Harry saw the looks they gave one another. How dare she lecture him about the marks on his body when she herself was getting tainted?

He was agitated, to say the least—nostrils flaring wild with thoughts building on top of one another and he couldn’t help but say, “How was Shawn last night?”

Y/N paused all her actions, slowly turning around with a confused face, “What do you mean?”

“Oh come on, Y/N,” Harry chuckled sarcastically. “He fucked you last night, didn’t he? Was he good?”

“Harry, wha–? He took me home because he saw that you left and–,”

“No need to lie. I saw the pictures,” Rolling his eyes, he fumbled with his phone to turn the brightness up, “I always tell you about my escapades, why don’t you tell me any of yours?” He questioned, leaning over to show her the pictures dating from last night.

Because I don’t have any ‘escapades’, she thought.

“It’s because I haven’t slept with anyone,”

Harry furrowed his brows, forehead scrunching, “In a while?”

She shook her head, stammering a bit from her unplanned confession, “N-no, in ever,” Her fingers twist the button of her jeans, tightening the fabric around her waist, the blouse she’d picked for today matched the black denim; everything went well the dark jeans. “I haven’t slept with anyone except you,”

He gasped incredulously, “Really?” He then doubled over in cackling laughter, “That’s a funny joke, now tell me the truth. How many has it been? 3? 5?” He muttered while counting on his fingers, “I know mine is at least 23, plus last night would be 24,”

Y/N shifted her soles uncomfortably in her socks. She definitely didn’t need to know how many women Harry had fooled around with, she didn’t even need to see him recount every one of them in perfect memory as if they all did something memorable to him.

—-

Harry was taken aback at her confession. He figured that Y/N must’ve fooled around with somebody else at least once. Now he didn’t know if she was lying about the number of her flings to make him feel guilty because he had taken full advantage of what this relationship had to offer.

Deep inside, he knew that if she did begin to talk about other men like he did with women–he wouldn’t be able to handle the jealousy bubbling inside of him. It’s not like he could control what he says any better either; it would be a big mess. All in all, he was glad that she avoided talking about men in front of him.

He can always claim to love her–he does, by the way–but at times he gets antsy in his pants because she could walk in the door at any time and break it off with him. Even though his body was not entirely hers, his heart was a piece of him that she will forever carry in her dainty hands. He had decided long ago that nobody took better care of him other than Y/N, and he was eternally grateful for her ability to withstand his mistakes and misfortunes.

Harry didn’t like the idea of his girl hanging around with other guys and he was aware that Y/N wasn’t too fond of him being around various women often. However, both of them were too coward to actually say something to each other. They knew each other very well, but not at this topic. This topic was blurry and foggy, and they had no sense of what to do to stop this. Both of them would probably project their feelings and ideas to one another, and it would only create an even bigger mess because their pride was too huge to push aside.

The fact the Y/N doesn’t share about her experiences caused Harry to think of the worst, that being that her tendency to not make him a part of it meant that she must be doing it secretly– as if he was doing it behind his back, times two. If Y/N did go out with another guy, she was doing it very sneakily as the press hadn’t caught her and her arm candy. She must be going out on dates when he was out of the house. Maybe she even brought them back in their home and fucked them on the marble kitchen counter. Not once had she called about canceling dinner plans or meetings so she must be doing it while Harry was off fucking the brains out of some random chick whom he’d have to force to sign an NDA later on.

It worried him sometimes if the person she was with treated her right. Y/N wasn’t the type of girl that you hump and dump; if the articles were right about something, it would be that she was the kindest, most humble woman in the business that you would probably feel physically sick if you made a frown etched on her face. He knew he had no right to swipe left on who she wanted to see, much like how he preferred for her to stay out of his decisions on who take home at night.

—-

It was the third day in a row where Harry forgot to pick up Y/N on set. He was on a break from writing and basically everything so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem to get a sense of time and pick up his girlfriend from her filming location. She was sitting at the black leather seats at the front lobby of the building, dressed in the outfit she left in earlier this morning. Her hair was done up in the ’70s do to get the vibe of the part she was supposed to play. All Y/N wanted was to wash the hairspray off of her hair and wipe the makeup from her face, but she couldn’t do that unless she was home. There were already some fans outside the tinted glass windows who caught wind of her whereabouts and she had already interacted with them.

Still no Harry.

“Hey Y/N. Sorry, I’m late,” Harry huffed, his hair wildly curly for it to be the work of the spring breeze. There were marks on his neck and his pupils were blown wild. Of course.

As much as she felt repulsed at his audacity to show up late looking he had just had the best fuck of his life, all Y/N really wanted to do was eat some dinner and cuddle with him–after he had taken a shower.

“It’s fine,” She muttered quietly, voice a little hoarse from how much she had to rehearse to get her lines accurate. “‘M tired.” Burying her head on his chest was a giant mistake because as soon as she was in proper distance from him, a sweet scent hit her nostrils and her earlier suspicion was confirmed.

“Aw bub, how about we go home, hmm?” He felt her head nodding against his shirt causing him to look down at her in admiration. She was such a hard-working woman who was determined to achieve greatness. “Let’s go,”

Upon settling in Harry’s car, Y/N lazily buckled in her safety belt and sat patiently while Harry rounded the front of the vehicle to get to the other side. He opened the door and got comfortable as well before starting the roar of the engine and shifted the gear to reverse, pulling out of his parking space.

“So I was thinking maybe we could cook dinner together,” She started. “We’ll cook your favorite, then we can watch a movie in bed while cuddling like we used to.” Y/N’s eyes softened at the thought of being affectionate with Harry. “What do you say, H?”

He hummed in response, not saying much else. Y/N assumed it was because of the heavy traffic that kept his attention on the road. She didn’t mind though, just knowing that his presence with near her made her feel warm and fuzzy on the inside. They hadn’t been together much, not even at nights where it should be reserved. He was always off staying at some lady’s chateau and as much as she was glad that he was safe; she wished and preferred that he would–one day–pick their home as a safe haven.

Y/N must’ve taken a bit of nap because she was woken up with a slight shake to her shoulder. Harry smiled at her gently, informing her that they were home. She adjusted her eyes to the bright space of their house, lights guiding the way to the cobblestone pathway to the front door. She grasped the handle of the car, pulling it towards her while using her other hand to push the entrapment in order to exit. Y/N was about to swing her legs over the seat when she realized that Harry was entitled to his phone which was buzzing repeatedly in his hand.

“H?” Y/N called out but to no avail. He was biting his lip, tearing the skin slightly. “Harry?” She questioned again but all she received was the soft purr of the engine. “Harry!”

The rising volume of her voice snapped him out of his electronic trance, “Yeah?”

Y/N scoffed to herself, rolling her eyes minutely before asking: “What do you say about dinner?”

“Oh, uhm, I think it would be a great idea but–,”

“Great! Then we can pick a movie and cuddle afterward, yeah?” She interrupted, feeling excitement vibrating through her bones.

“Actually, I’m busy tonight,” He admitted sheepishly, dimple popping in a slight indent. “Maybe some other time?”

His answer got Y/N speechless and her mouth was dropping open and closed in a matter of seconds. “Where are you going? Is there something wrong?” The concern in her voice was enough to make him feel a bit guilty.

“No actually– I uh–,” The buzz of his phone distracted his train of thought and his eyes widened when his thumbprint unlocked his cell. Harry whispered a breathy ‘fuck’, not meaning for Y/N to hear it.

Y/N shifted her hand to rest on the cushion of the car seat, reaching over to grab Harry’s phone from his clutch. She could see his fingers trying to grasp on the air where his phone used to be, his eyes growing wide when he witnessed his girlfriend glance down at the white screen illuminating her face.

It showcased a conversation between him and a girl named Chloe. Y/N inspected the messages they had sent each other in the past minute and she almost gagged.

***

You think you can sneak away for a bit? Y/N gets to spend almost every day with you! Come on, I can cook you dinner and offer a show…

She rolled her eyes at the atrocity of the message the woman sent, but it wasn’t anything compared to Harry’s reply.

Mm, you definitely know how to persuade someone into giving you what you want. I’ll make something up. I expect you to be waiting for me in an hour or so.

The show would be even better if you wore the white panties you were wearing yesterday

It was a simple request that caused Y/N’s heart to pound for attention to be soothed, yet she couldn’t do anything else but let her thumb scroll down further. A part of her wanted to blow up, throw the phone on the ground and watch it shatter in pieces; much like how her heart felt after comprehending the filthy messages. Another, more sensible, part of her wanted to calmly return his pain-inducing device calmly and not give him the satisfaction of seeing her eyes well up with tears.

Of course, I bought them as per your request. I know white lingerie is your favorite.

It is when I take it off your body,

I need you Harry

Im coming. I expect you to be naked.

Her throat was dry and she still had a bit of trouble understanding the lengths he was willing to go through just to fuck some girl. He was planning on blatantly lying to her about his plans for the evening and showed no hesitation of leaving dear Y/N once again for the umpteenth time.

“I guess I’ll be spending tonight with just me,” Y/N chuckled bitterly, having half the mind on locking his phone to try to erase the messages somehow before handing it back to him. Harry stared at the phone as if it would burn his skin if it touched him; it felt like it to Y/N, too.

She proceeded with her previous actions, stepping off the vehicle and slamming the door shut before Harry could say anything. Y/N fumbled with the keys on the walk over to the front door, rushing to find the right one.  

“Y/N, wait!” Harry pulled on her arm, making her face him. “I-i, you weren’t supposed to see that,” His tone was demeaning as if it was her fault that she was hurt.

“Obviously I wasn’t. What did I expect asking you for dinner and a movie?” She admitted, attitude going down in the dumps and a little sourer. “Guess I’m always last on the list, huh?”

He shook his head fast that it was dizzying, “No you’re not,” She lifted a hand to silence him from his unprepared excuses, “Save it. Just go.”

And with that, Harry was left immobilized on the gravel while Y/N skipped towards the front door. She made eye contact with him before shutting the door against the frame.

—-

Y/N was disheartened that her long and tiring day only sought to be more disappointing than she had expected. How could she ever think Harry would be able to deliver with her request? He was busy pleasing other woman and to even think of satisfying Y/N was swirling down the drain.

She huffed, annoyed at his ability to piss her off every twenty minutes. This was who they were behind closed doors. The speculations of their fans and the prying articles of news outlets could have never guessed that precious Y/N and Harry were not as innocent as they appeared to be. This had been their scenario for the past couple of months. This was them now; this is Harry …

But this isn’t Y/N and maybe it’s time for a change.

As YN picked up the light case of her phone, she tapped unto her contact list and found the name she’d been searching for. He had frequented in dropping hints about how he found her attractive, but of course, Y/N never felt objectified because his charm glazed him with an ability to soften the tough barricades of her heart. He was respectful to her and to Harry and kept his distance away from Y/N even though he was looking at her with lustful eyes during the Nolan premier. His self-control was amazing, Y/N gave him that. The way he focused on her with such an intense gaze made her squirm in her seat and partly wished that it was Harry who couldn’t keep his eyes off her.

There had always been sexual tension present in the air between them, but neither parties acted upon it because of who they were. Not only would it cause a big scandal, but they were afraid that it would ruin their friendship with each other. Y/N cared too much and he would rather have her as a friend if he couldn’t have her as a significant other.

Y/N’s fingers tapped on the keyboard with fresh speed; a sentence that she had never thought should, or be able to type.

“Come over and fuck me.”

She waited until the text was titled ‘sent’, before taking a quick shower and slipping into some white lace lingerie that complimented the curves of her body. Y/N popped the cork of a wine bottle as well, setting it on the bedside table and grabbed to clear glasses in the kitchen. After some time, the doorbell rang and she had sprinted down the stairs, walking the last few meters to catch her breath and swung the door open.

Y/N scanned the man in front of her, dressed in a simple white tee and grey sweats that showed off his bulge that she had wondered about frequently. The shared a small smile with each other, a twinkle in their eyes.

“Hey Shawn,” Y/N greeted before feeling a pair of lips pressed against her own. Her chest landing on his broad pane. Somewhere in the distance, the front door slammed shut and her body got pinned on the wood. He groaned lightly against her mouth when she traced a finger on his neck, grazing over the generic soft spot, feeling him shiver with delight and her lashes flutter on her cheeks.

She should’ve done this sooner.

—-

ok not gonna lie, I feel like I totally rushed this but my schedule is getting busier and busier and I didn’t wanna leave you guys yearning for more so ta-da! :D

I think the 3rd part will contain some filth?? my FIRST smut fix and sksksksk

permanent taglist;  @ynm1505 @kissme-hs @agoddamnmango @harrys-kingdom @calums-sugarbaby @queenbeestuffs @ashkuuuu @kettxo @send-me-styles @ofpeppermintbay @littledreamybeth @trustfulhaz @harrysfeastedflower @harrystxleslx @befourep @moonandstars-xo @babebenhardy @swayingnoodlelove @mendesromano @harrystylinsince1994 4 @juliassgem @miscll-fangirl @little-dragon-ate-my-heart

jalboyh taglist; @harryspirate @officiallyunofficalperson @gviosca @llandaaa @mutuallynotmutual @mellamolayla @madformichael @toolazymyguy @sauveteen @joycelovedorial @rebelflower19 @myfangirlworld @stella95827 @katelynmusic @loganmay19 @calssunflower

​

[thepurplebutterflythings]

Blind Date (Part 2 of 3) - Jake Peralta

Gif: brooklynninenine on Tenor

Word Count: 2.5K

Paring: Jake Peralta x (f)Reader

Summary: Y/N serves her mother and her co-worker, the infamous Raymond. The Squad meets Y/N

Warnings: N/A

A/N: I ADORE Jake and Amy as a couple, but, obviously, in this they aren’t together.

Masterlist

Requested: Anon

________________________________________________________________

‘Isn’t your mother in tonight?’ James, the bartender, said as he polished the glasses for the night. Y/N groaned and let her head fall into her hands.

‘Don’t remind me,’ she huffed, ‘any chance you’ll give me a shot or two?’

‘Don’t think Harold would approve now, do you?’ James chuckled, grabbing the tequila anyways, pouring two out, one for her and one for him, sliding one across the bar.

‘Well, if his mother was succubus, he’d be hitting the bottle right now too.’

‘Have you checked the reservations to see when she’ll be in?’

‘I don’t need to – I’ll feel a disturbance in the force,’ Y/N sighed handing the shot glass back to James. James shot her a look. ‘She always comes in at the same time. It hasn’t changed for years, James. Mother will be here at eight on the dot – wearing her uniform, no doubt, hat under the arm indoors as it’s always rude to wear a hat inside.’

‘I do not envy you tonight.’

‘Thanks, James,’ Y/N scoffed as she got to her feet and walked to the kitchen to grab her apron to start her shift.

________________________________________________________________

Eight on the dot, and Y/N was right. As she collected someone’s drink from James, Y/N looked to the door and saw Wuntch standing and waiting with her hat under her arm, wearing her neatly pressed uniform and a proud look on her face. Y/N knew that the prideful look wasn’t because she was looking at her successful daughter, but because other customers were looking at Madeline in awe.

‘Told you,’ Y/N said quietly to James before giving the customer their drink. Y/N knew not to approach her mother until her fellow worker came, and Y/N would be able to tell who they were. Almost always the fellow diner was wearing their uniform as well. By order of her mother? Perhaps. It wasn’t as though Y/N could ask. She just presumed.

Soon after, Y/N saw a man enter. Relatively taller than her mother and very little hair on his head. The hair that was visible was a salt and pepper type, skin close and in the position from changing to the black from youth to the grey of aging. He also wore a crisp pressed uniform, but his was of a Captain. Y/N knew the difference. That was the que, Y/N plastered a fake smile on her face and walked towards her mother and the Captain.

‘Madame, Sir,’ Y/N nodded politely, ‘Welcome to Masa, shall I show you to your table?’

‘Yes,’ Wuntch nodded firmly.

As her mother and the man sat down, Y/N handed them their menus.

‘So, Madeline,’ The man said, ‘what made you choose food and not some poor unsuspecting soul to drain the blood from?’

Y/N bit down on her tongue to stop herself from laughing.

‘Oh, Raymond,’ Wuntch said. Y/N controlled her reaction. This was the infamous Raymond that her mother despised so much. He wasn’t anything like Y/N had imagined. ‘I thought that you would be the vampire out of the two of us, after all, you’re so close to dust now, aren’t you?’

‘Well,’ Y/N said in a chirpy voice that servers had to use, ‘I’ll leave you for a minute to look over the menus.’ She said before walking off and approaching James with large eyes before leaning over the bar. ‘That guy is Raymond!’

‘THAT’S the guy your mum hates?’ James said, eyes bulging, peering around Y/N to look at the man. ‘Why’d I imagine him taller?’

‘Forget that – why’d she bring him here?’ Y/N whispered. ‘She’s spent her whole career hiding me and now she risks that with bring her mortal enemy here?’

‘Well, you take more after your pa than mummy dearest.’

‘Still.’

‘I don’t know.’ James shrugged. ‘Maybe she’s getting sloppy.’

________________________________________________________________

All night, Y/N grinned and bared it her mother, and it seemed that Raymond was doing the same. Every time that Y/N approached their table, Raymond looked as though he’d find it more pleasurable to shoot himself in the foot. She had to fight the urge to give him a sympathetic smile. The more she witnessed, the more Y/N realised that Raymond wasn’t the villain that her mother acted he was. He was just a poor guy who was stuck dealing with Madeline Wuntch.

‘I sincerely hope that you found your meals and drinks enjoyable,’ Y/N said sweetly, ‘if you want desert, I shall be more than happy to get you the menus, if not would you like me to get the check?’

‘Just the check, please,’ Raymond spoke quickly, ‘I must be getting home to my husband.’

‘Of course, Sir,’ Y/N nodded, ‘I will go get the check,’ she said before turning to Wuntch and bowing her head, ‘Madame.’ She then went to get the check, returning not even a minute later, placing it on the table, dead centre. This way, Y/N had learnt, the customers can decide who is buying without the server getting caught up in the hassle.

‘Thank you,’ Wuntch gave a tight lipped smile before grabbing the check and looking over the price. ‘Give the chef my compliments, waitress.’

Y/N bit down the inside of her lip. It infuriated her to no end that her mother kept calling her ‘waitress’ when, officially, she was a server. There was a difference. Her manager had warned her of that when she applied for the job. You weren’t a waitress, you were a server – you served an experience. You had to know your wines, your oysters, your spices and herbs, you had to know culture and art and history and literature. It was years for some before they get their stripes and were servers instead of trainees. And her mother stuck up her nose and discredited all the work and effort Y/N had put into the years of working at Masa.

‘Madeline, do not discredit the server,’ Raymond tutted, catching both mother and daughter off guard, making them turn and look at the man. ‘A waitress and a server are very different. I dated a man who worked at a high-end place such as Masa,’ he explained to Y/N, ‘the amount of effort needed for the work and training you have to do before you earn your stripes is commendable,’ he told her.

‘Thank you, sir,’ Y/N, for the first time all night, broke out in a genuine smile. ‘It’s a lot of work, but work I am happy to do, for I love my job.’

‘Please, call me Raymond,’ he said, ‘perhaps Kevin and I shall come here for our anniversary this year,’ he commented absently.

‘Here,’ Wuntch said, snatching Y/N’s attention and thrusting the check back into her hands with the money. ‘Raymond,’ Wuntch nodded before getting up and leaving. Y/N rolled her eyes as she watched her mother walk from the building. She sighed and counted the money. Cost for the meals, the wine, and a tip. Y/N frowned as she looked at the tip, less than 1%. Typical mother, she thought.

‘Is all the money there?’ Raymond asked curiously, seeing her face.

‘Yes,’ Y/N assured him, ‘apologies, Raymond, I didn’t mean to alarm you.’

‘No, no, it is more than alright,’ Raymond said, ‘tell me, what made you so troubled?’

‘I shouldn’t say, really.’

‘Now, would I have asked if I did not want to know?’ He insisted.

‘She tipped less than 1%.’

‘I am incredibly sorry, Miss, you deserve far more than that,’ Raymond said as he pulled his own wallet out, grabbing a handful of notes and gave them to her.

‘Oh, no, no, no, I couldn’t,’ she said, ‘I wasn’t trying to get more.’

‘Please, I insist,’ Raymond said, ‘after all, I know Madeline has bought a lot of unfortunate victims to Masa in the past, so I presume you have had the poor luck to deal with the she-devil before.’

‘We have a saying when she comes in,’ Y/N chuckled as she hesitantly took the cash from him, ‘Watch out, watch out, the Wuntch is about!’

Raymond unleashed a giddy laugh, throwing his head back and revealing perfectly white teeth to all around him.

‘Oh, I like that!’ He declared, ‘would you mind if I use that?’

‘Go ahead, sir.’

‘Raymond,’ he corrected kindly.

‘Go ahead, Raymond.’

________________________________________________________________

‘Oh, are you sure they want to meet me?’ Y/N asked Jake hesitantly as the elevator took them to the second floor. Today was the day that she was to meet his co-workers, the 99. Y/N was beyond nervous at this point. She knew Gina, yes, but if the rest of the squad didn’t like her, then what did that mean for their relationship, for they were like a family.

‘They’re dying to meet you,’ Jake assured her, ‘and they’re going to love you.’

‘I hope so,’ Y/N mumbled as the doors opened to reveal the bullpen. There stood two women Y/N had never met before next to Gina, who gave her a comforting smile and wave, and two other men, one large like a gladiator, the other stocky with a uncontrollable grin.

‘Guys,’ Jake smiled as he and she stepped from the elevator and into the bullpen. ‘This is Y/N, my girlfriend. Y/N, this is the 99.’

‘Hello,’ Y/N waved awkwardly.

‘Hi, I’m Terry,’ the gladiator man nodded formally.

‘I’m Charles, and I’m thrilled to meet you.’

‘Rosa.’

‘And I’m Amy, and I want to meet the woman who’s managed to get Jake to stop having a can of spray cheese as his lunch.’

‘Well, here I am, and I hope I don’t disappoint.’

‘Where’s Captain Holt?’ Jake asked, looking around.

‘Why?’ Amy smirked playfully, ‘Want daddy’s approval?’

‘What? No!’ Jake scoffed dramatically, looking around for his captain. ‘But, where is he?’

‘Office,’ Terry said, gesturing behind him to the closed door. ‘He should be nearly done. He’s on the phone with One Police Plaza.’

As soon as Terry finished his sentence, Captain Holt’s door opened and outstepped the man himself. Captain Holt. Y/N looked to see that it was Raymond, from Masa, from dinning with her mother. Her mother’s worst enemy. She was dating the protégé of her mother’s worst enemy. Y/N gulped as Holt walked over and smiled friendly at her.

‘Hello again,’ Holt nodded in greeting.

‘So, is it Raymond, or Captain?’

‘Raymond.’

‘You’ve met?’

‘Yes. Raymond has dinned at Masa.’

‘She’s a wonderful server.’

‘Always nice to hear!’

________________________________________________________________

They sat in the break room as they all chatted away. Raymond hadn’t brought up Madeline Wuntch, and it didn’t seem like he would, so Y/N could breathe easier. She stopped tensing and just relaxed as her and the squad talked. It was nice.

‘Captain?’ said a large, older man coming into the room. ‘Wuntch is here.’

‘Wuntch?’ Y/N gulped. Oh, no, no, no, no. Her mother? It had to be. There was no other Wuntch she knew of.

‘Thank you, Scully,’ Raymond said getting to his feet and straightening his tie. Raymond gave a small quirk of the lip, ‘Watch out, watch out, the Wuntch is about.’

‘Clever,’ Rosa snorted in amusement.

‘It is Y/N’s rhyme. She has had the misfortune of serving Madeline,’ he said before strolling from the room.

‘You know Madeline Wuntch?’ Jake asked with a frown.

‘Jake, Wuntch cannot see me here, trust me!’ Y/N said, ignoring the question and confusion. The rest of the squad frowned and looked at each other in confusion as well. ‘Please!’

‘Alright, alright,’ he nodded, ‘let’s sneak you out of here.’

Everyone got to their feet and Jake gestured to Rosa to hand her leather jacket over, which she did. Amy and Rosa walked out and stood by Holt to keep Wuntch’s attention while Jake hid Y/N beneath the jacket and had Terry and Charles try and hide her hidden form behind their bodies. With slow steps, Y/N followed Jake, holding his hand. She heard her mother talk to Holt – they whipped insult after insult at each other. Y/N was so close to the gate but then she heard Wuntch.

‘And what is your little understudy hiding beneath Detective Diaz’s jacket?’ She said. Y/N gulped, hearing her mother’s shoes approach. She felt the woman’s hand on the jacket and pull it off, revealing Y/N to Madeline. Madeline stared at her daughter in shock, mouth hanging open. ‘Y/N?’ She blinked at the sight of Y/N standing in the 99.

‘So you know the poor girl’s name?’ Holt scoffed, ‘you just loved calling her ‘waitress’ when at Masa. Everyone always talks about how you have the same server and cannot even be bothered to learn her name, and yet, you know it – you just choose not to use it.’

‘Wait, you serve Wuntch at Masa?’ Jake looked at Y/N. ‘All the time?’

‘Yes.’

‘But you said the only person you serve repeatedly is your mother,’ Jake said. Y/N closed her eyes, wanting to disappear as she felt Jake next to her put two and two together. ‘Wuntch is your mother.’

Y/N opened her eyes and looked Madeline in the eyes. Madeline stared back.

‘Unfortunately so,’ she said. Madeline’s face noticeably changed in shock.

‘Madeline,’ Holt tutted as he walked over, hands behind his back, ‘did you send your daughter as a honeypot for my best detective?’

‘Please,’ Y/N scoffed, ‘she’d never dream of it, cause then she’d have to admit that she had a daughter.’

‘Excuse me?’ Madeline scowled.

‘Come on, you cancel on me all the time, only use me for seats at Masa, never refer to me by name when there, you can’t even be bothered to take your eyes off your damn paperwork when we’re in the same room.’ Y/N listed, ‘you’re ashamed of me, just say it. You always have been – you gave me to Dad the moment I popped out the womb, didn’t you? Hardly came for Birthdays, never sent me a Christmas card. I don’t exist to you.’

‘Maybe I hid you because I feared my rivals would use you against me.’

‘Bullshit,’ Y/N huffed, ‘your feud with Raymond always meant more to you than I ever did.’

Madeline still stared at her daughter, flames in her eyes. Y/N had disobeyed and made herself known, even if it was against her will, and, on top of that, she was dating a detective.

‘Y/N!’

‘Look, Mother,’ Y/N sighed, ‘I don’t care. I don’t care if you hate Jake, cause I love him. I don’t care if you’re ashamed of me, cause my life doesn’t revolve around your approval. I don’t care. I’m done. Just leave me alone,’ she said before turning on her heel and closing the elevator behind her, leaving the building.

‘Madeline…’

‘Leave it, Raymond.’

‘What do you think I’m going to say?’

‘That I am a terrible mother,’ Madeline said with a cracking voice, still looking at the elevator her daughter disappeared to.

‘I was actually going to ask why you hid her.’

‘I didn’t know what to do,’ she confessed, turning to face Raymond and the others. ‘I never planned to be a mother, I don’t know how to love my daughter. It’s difficult for me.’

‘Well, she is a lovely young woman.’

‘In spite of me,’ Madeline chuckled darkly as she wiped a stray tear away. ‘She became all that she is without me.’

‘Why’d you treat her like that?’ Jake asked.

‘I thought she was so much better off without me, that it is easier to have her hate me than love me.’

[blackkudos]

Dexter Gordon

Dexter Gordon (February 27, 1923 – April 25, 1990) was an American jazz tenor saxophonist. He was one of the first players of the instrument in the bebop idiom of musicians such as Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, and Bud Powell. Gordon's height was 6 feet 6 inches (198 cm), so he was also known as "Long Tall Dexter" and "Sophisticated Giant". His studio and performance career spanned over 40 years.

Gordon's sound was commonly characterized as being "large" and spacious and he had a tendency to play behind the beat. He was known for humorously inserting musical quotes into his solos, with sources as diverse as popular tunes like "Happy Birthday" to the operas of Wagner. This is not unusual in common-practice jazz improvisation, but Gordon did it frequently enough to make it a hallmark of his style. One of his major influences was Lester Young. Gordon, in turn, was an early influence on John Coltrane and Sonny Rollins. Rollins and Coltrane then influenced Gordon's playing as he explored hard bop and modal playing during the 1960s.

Gordon was known for his genial and humorous stage presence. He was an advocate of playing to communicate with the audience. One of his idiosyncratic rituals was to recite lyrics from each ballad before playing it.

A photograph by Herman Leonard of Gordon taking a smoke break at the Royal Roost in 1948 is one of the iconic images in jazz photography. Cigarettes were a recurring theme on covers of Gordon's albums.

Gordon was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actor in a Leading Role for his performance in the Bertrand Tavernier film Round Midnight (Warner Bros, 1986), and he won a Grammy for Best Jazz Instrumental Performance, Soloist, for the soundtrack album The Other Side of Round Midnight (Blue Note Records, 1986). He also had a cameo role in the 1990 film Awakenings. In 2019, Gordon's album Go (Blue Note, 1962) was selected by the Library of Congress for preservation in the National Recording Registry for being "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant".

Life and career

Early life

Dexter Keith Gordon was born on February 27, 1923 in Los Angeles, California. His father, Dr. Frank Gordon, was one of the first African American doctors in Los Angeles who arrived in 1918 after graduating from Howard Medical School in Washington, D.C. Among his patients were Duke Ellington and Lionel Hampton. Dexter's mother, Gwendolyn Baker, was the daughter of Captain Edward Baker, one of the five African American Medal of Honor recipients in the Spanish–American War. Gordon played clarinet from the age of 13, before switching to saxophone (initially alto, then tenor) at 15. While still at school, he played in bands with such contemporaries as Chico Hamilton and Buddy Collette.

Between December 1940 and 1943, Gordon was a member of Lionel Hampton's band, playing in a saxophone section alongside Illinois Jacquet and Marshal Royal. During 1944 he was featured in the Fletcher Henderson band, followed by the Louis Armstrong band, before joining Billy Eckstine. The 1942–44 musicians' strike curtailed the recording of the Hampton, Henderson, and Armstrong bands; however, they were recorded on V-Discs produced by the Army for broadcast and distribution among overseas troops. In 1943 he was featured, alongside Harry "Sweets" Edison, in recordings under Nat Cole for a small label not affected by the strike.

Bebop era recordings

By late 1944, Gordon was resident in New York, a regular at bebop jam sessions, and a featured soloist in the Billy Eckstine big band (If That's The Way You Feel, I Want To Talk About You, Blowin' the Blues Away, Opus X, I'll Wait And Pray, The Real Thing Happened To Me, Lonesome Lover Blues, I Love the Rhythm in a Riff). During early 1945 he was featured on recordings by Dizzy Gillespie (Blue 'n' Boogie, Groovin' High) and Sir Charles Thompson (Takin' Off, If I Had You, 20th Century Blues, The Street Beat). In late 1945 he was recording under his own name for the Savoy label. His Savoy recordings during 1945-46 included Blow Mr. Dexter, Dexter's Deck, Dexter's Minor Mad, Long Tall Dexter, Dexter Rides Again, I Can't Escape From You, and Dexter Digs In. He returned to Los Angeles in late 1946 and in 1947 was leading sessions for Ross Russell's Dial label (Mischievous Lady, Lullaby in Rhythm, The Chase, Iridescence, It's the Talk of the Town, Bikini, A Ghost of a Chance, Sweet and Lovely). After his return to Los Angeles, he became known for his saxophone duels with fellow tenorman Wardell Gray, which were a popular concert attraction documented in recordings made between 1947 and 1952 (The Hunt, Move, The Chase, The Steeplechase).  The Hunt gained literary fame from its mention in Jack Kerouac's On The Road, which also contains descriptions of wild tenormen jamming in Los Angeles. Cherokee, Byas a Drink, and Disorder at the Border are other live recordings of the Gray/Gordon duo from the same concert as The Hunt. In December 1947, Gordon recorded again with the Savoy label (Settin' the Pace, So Easy, Dexter's Riff, Dextrose, Dexter's Mood, Index, Dextivity, Wee Dot, Lion Roars). Through the mid-to-late 1940s he continued to work as a sideman on sessions led by Russell Jacquet, Benny Carter, Ben Webster, Ralph Burns, Jimmy Rushing, Helen Humes, Gerry Mulligan, Wynonie Harris, Leo Parker, and Tadd Dameron.

The 1950s

During the 1950s, Gordon's recorded output and live appearances declined as heroin addiction and legal troubles took their toll. Gordon made a concert appearance with Wardell Gray in February 1952 (The Chase, The Steeplechase, Take the A Train, Robbins Nest, Stardust) and appeared as a sideman in a session led by Gray in June 1952 (The Rubiyat, Jungle Jungle Jump, Citizen's Bop, My Kinda Love). After an incarceration at Chino Prison during 1953-55, he recorded the albums Daddy Plays the Horn and Dexter Blows Hot and Cool in 1955 and played as a sideman on the Stan Levey album, This Time the Drum's on Me. The latter part of the decade saw him in and out of prison until his final release from Folsom Prison in 1959. He was one of the initial sax players for the Onzy Matthews big band in 1959, along with Curtis Amy. Gordon continued to champion Matthews' band after he left Los Angeles for New York, but left for Europe before getting a chance to record with that band. He recorded The Resurgence of Dexter Gordon in 1960. His recordings from the mid-1950s onward document a meander into a smooth West Coast style that lacked the impact of his bebop era recordings or his subsequent Blue Note recordings.

The decade saw Gordon's first entry into the world of drama. He appeared as a member (uncredited) of Art Hazzard's band in the 1950 film Young Man with a Horn. He appeared in an uncredited and overdubbed role as a member of a prison band in the movie Unchained, filmed inside Chino. Gordon was a saxophonist performing Freddie Redd's music for the Los Angeles production of Jack Gelber's play The Connection in 1960, replacing Jackie McLean. He contributed two compositions, Ernie's Tune and I Want More to the score and later recorded them for his album Dexter Calling.

New York renaissance

Gordon signed to Blue Note Records in 1961. He initially commuted from Los Angeles to New York to record, but took up residence when he regained the cabaret card that allowed him to perform where alcohol was served. The Jazz Gallery hosted his first New York performance in twelve years. The Blue Note association was to produce a steady flow of albums for several years, some of which gained iconic status. His New York renaissance was marked by Doin' Allright, Dexter Calling..., Go!, and A Swingin' Affair. The first two were recorded over three days in May 1961 with Freddie Hubbard, Horace Parlan, Kenny Drew, Paul Chambers, George Tucker, Al Harewood, and Philly Joe Jones. The last two were recorded in August 1962, with a rhythm section that featured Blue Note regulars Sonny Clark, Butch Warren and Billy Higgins. Of the two Go! was an expressed favorite. The albums showed his assimilation of the hard bop and modal styles that had developed during his years on the west coast, and the influence of John Coltrane and Sonny Rollins, whom he had influenced before. The stay in New York turned out to be short lived, as Gordon got offers for engagements in England, then Europe, that resulted in a fourteen-year stay. Soon after recording A Swingin' Affair, he was gone.

Years in Europe

Over the next 14 years in Europe, living mainly in Paris and Copenhagen, Gordon played regularly with fellow expatriates or visiting players, such as Bud Powell, Ben Webster, Freddie Hubbard, Bobby Hutcherson, Kenny Drew, Horace Parlan and Billy Higgins. Blue Note's German-born Francis Wolff supervised Gordon's later sessions for the label on his visits to Europe. The pairing of Gordon with Drew turned out to be one of the classic matchups between a horn player and a pianist, much like Miles Davis with Red Garland or John Coltrane with McCoy Tyner.

From this period come Our Man in Paris, One Flight Up, Gettin' Around, and Clubhouse. Our Man in Paris was a Blue Note session recorded in Paris in 1963 with backup consisting of pianist Powell, drummer Kenny Clarke, and French bassist Pierre Michelot. One Flight Up, recorded in Paris in 1964 with trumpeter Donald Byrd, pianist Kenny Drew, drummer Art Taylor, and Danish bassist Niels-Henning Ørsted Pedersen, features an extended solo by Gordon on the track "Tanya".

Gordon also visited the US occasionally for further recording dates. Gettin' Around was recorded for Blue Note during a visit in May 1965, as was the album Clubhouse which remained unreleased until 1979.

Gordon found Europe in the 1960s a much easier place to live, saying that he experienced less racism and greater respect for jazz musicians. He also stated that on his visits to the US in the late 1960s and early 1970s, he found the political and social strife disturbing. While in Copenhagen, Gordon and Drew's trio appeared onscreen in Ole Ege's theatrically released hardcore pornographic film Pornografi (1971), for which they composed and performed the score.

He switched from Blue Note to Prestige Records (1965–73) but stayed very much in the hard-bop idiom, making classic bop albums like  The Tower of Power! and More Power! (1969) with James Moody, Barry Harris, Buster Williams, and Albert "Tootie" Heath; The Panther! (1970) with Tommy Flanagan, Larry Ridley, and Alan Dawson;  The Jumpin' Blues(1970) with Wynton Kelly, Sam Jones, and Roy Brooks; The Chase! (1970) with Gene Ammons, Jodie Christian, John Young, Cleveland Eaton, Rufus Reid, Wilbur Campbell, Steve McCall, and Vi Redd; and Tangerine (1972) with Thad Jones, Freddie Hubbard, and Hank Jones. Some of the Prestige albums were recorded during visits back to North America while he was still living in Europe; others were made in Europe, including live sets from the Montreux Jazz Festival.

In addition to the recordings Gordon did under his major label contracts, live recordings by European labels and live video from his European period are available. The Danish label SteepleChase released live dates from his mid-1960s tenure at the Montmartre Jazzhus. The video was released under the  Jazz Icons series.

Less well known than the Blue Note albums, but of similar quality, are the albums he recorded during the 1970s for SteepleChase (Something Different, Bouncin' With Dex, Biting the Apple, The Apartment, Stable Mable, The Shadow of Your Smile and others). They again feature American sidemen, but also such Europeans as Spanish pianist Tete Montoliu and Niels-Henning Ørsted Pedersen.

Homecoming

Gordon finally returned to the United States for good in 1976. He appeared with Woody Shaw, Ronnie Mathews, Stafford James, and Louis Hayes, for a gig at the Village Vanguard in New York that was dubbed his "homecoming." It was recorded and released by Columbia Records under that title. He noted: "There was so much love and elation; sometimes it was a little eerie at the Vanguard. After the last set they'd turn on the lights and nobody would move." In addition to the Homecoming album, a series of live albums was released by Blue Note from his stands at Keystone Corner in San Francisco during 1978 and 1979. They featured Gordon, George Cables, Rufus Reid, and Eddie Gladden. He recorded the studio albums Sophisticated Giant with an eleven piece big band in 1977 and Manhattan Symphonie with the Live at Keystone Corner crew in 1978. The sensation of Gordon's return, renewed promotion of the classic jazz catalogs of the Savoy and Blue Note record labels, and the continued efforts of Art Blakey through 1970s and early 1980s, have been credited with reviving interest in swinging, melodic, acoustically-based classic jazz sounds after the Fusion jazz era that saw an emphasis on electronic sounds and contemporary pop influences.

Musician Emeritus

In 1978 and 1980, Gordon was the DownBeat Musician of the Year and in 1980 he was inducted into the Jazz Hall of Fame. The US Government honored him with a Congressional Commendation, a Dexter Gordon Day in Washington DC, and a National Endowment for the Arts award for Lifetime Achievement. In 1986, he was named a member and officer of the French Order of Arts and Letters by the Ministry of Culture in France.

During the 1980s, Gordon was weakened by emphysema. He remained a popular attraction at concerts and festivals, although his live appearances and recording dates would soon become infrequent.

Gordon's most memorable works from the decade were not in music but in film. He starred in the 1986 movie Round Midnight as "Dale Turner", an expatriate jazz musician in Paris during the late 1950s based loosely on Lester Young and Bud Powell. That portrayal earned him a nomination for an Academy Award for Best Actor. In addition, he had a non-speaking role in the 1990 film Awakenings, which was posthumously released. Before that last film was released he made a guest appearance on the Michael Mann series Crime Story.

Soundtrack performances from Round Midnight were released as the albums Round Midnight and The Other Side of Round Midnight, featuring original music by Herbie Hancock as well as playing by Gordon. The latter was the last recording released under Gordon's name. He was a sideman on Tony Bennett's 1987 album, Berlin.

Death and postmortem

Gordon died of kidney failure and cancer of the larynx in Philadelphia, on April 25, 1990, at the age of 67.

On June 25, 2019, The New York Times Magazine listed Dexter Gordon among hundreds of artists whose material was reportedly destroyed in the 2008 Universal fire.

Family

Gordon's maternal grandfather was Captain Edward L. Baker, who received the Medal of Honor during the Spanish–American War, while serving with the 10th Cavalry Regiment (also known as the Buffalo Soldiers).

Gordon's father, Dr. Frank Gordon, M.D., was one of the first prominent African-American physicians and a graduate of Howard University.

Dexter Gordon had a total of six children, from the oldest to the youngest: Robin Gordon (Los Angeles), California, James Canales (Los Angeles), Deidre (Dee Dee) Gordon (Los Angeles), Mikael Gordon-Solfors (Stockholm), Morten Gordon (Copenhagen) and Benjamin Dexter Gordon (Copenhagen), and seven grandchildren, Raina Moore Trider (Brooklyn), Jared Johnson (Los Angeles), and Matthew Johnson (Los Angeles), Maya Canales (San Francisco) and Jared Canales (San Francisco), Dexter Gordon Bogs (Copenhagen), Dexter Minou Flipper Gordon-Marberger (Stockholm).

When he lived in Denmark, Gordon became friends with the family of the future Metallica drummer Lars Ulrich, and subsequently became Lars's godfather.

Gordon was also survived by his widow Maxine Gordon and her son Woody Louis Armstrong Shaw III.

Instruments and mouthpieces

The earliest photographs of Gordon as a player show him with a Conn 30M "Connqueror" and an Otto Link mouthpiece. In a 1962 interview with the British journalist Les Tomkins, he did not refer to the specific model of mouthpiece but stated that it was made for him personally. He stated that it was stolen around 1952. The famous smoke break photo from 1948 shows him with a Conn 10M and a Dukoff mouthpiece, which he played until 1965. In the Tomkins interview he referred to his mouthpiece as a medium-chambered piece with a #5* (.080" under the Dukoff system) tip opening. He bought a Selmer Mark VI from Ben Webster after his 10M went missing in transit. In a Down Beat magazine interview from 1977, he referred to his current mouthpiece as an Otto Link with a #8 (.110" under the Otto Link system) tip opening.