#fucking sounds like there's a massive elevator outside bloody hell

[trenchcoatsbi]

I cant remember how I felt but I think the entire clipped wings is cannon which is AWFUL because they basically took our ability to fly and I cannot imagine how uncomfortable it must be if they tied up our wings its basically like tying up your hands or smth it probably was very uncomfortable {:T

Someone headcanonned how bobby (my little egg child :DDD) would pick up my feathers and try to fix my wings because he knows how upset I was (and probably still am) for the entire clipped wings situation

Which I think its really sweet <333 I really miss my poor son :(( I hope he is around there somewhere I am glad to know he was probably the happiest egg on that forsaken island even after his death

I think I would just pick him up and smother him in forehead kisses and tons of affection a lot of people said how he was pretty much a mama's boy because he acted very different around me (he picked up a lot of humming birds because I liked them and gifted them to me <3)

Oop I didn't meant that to be me only talking how much I love my son FBFBFBFH damm now I am acting like my papa (quackity)

-(cannon divergent llulah anon) jaiden qsmp⭑

-

lmao Bobby sounds really sweet though, it's understandable for ya to talk about him. The only reason I am not constantly shoving stuff about how much I love my kids in everyone's faces is the fact that I just torment my discord friends with my brainrot about them lol.

Anyway ragh uhm yeah clipped wings suck. i fucking hated it when it happened to me but that's an entire mess I can't get into :/

[underfell-crystal]

~~Dangerous Woman~~

Another oneshot starring an AU pairing of Harp and Copper, this time in the MafiaTale universe! @avtfol came up with the idea, and I've decided to put it into writing.

TW: Massive creep vibes, sexual harassment, shady mafia stuff

Goldie may have been the don of New York City's largest human mafia, but there was somebody else who could rival his power. His most favored member, who went by the nickname of 'the Lady Boss'.

Her mere presence commanded respect, and she radiated cold confidence. Nobody but her don knew her real name. As Goldie's closest confidant, she knew all the inner workings of the mafia. But, for being such a stoic woman, there was one thing that she couldn't hide, and that was the fact that she HATED being around Goldie. Being around him made her nose crinkle in disgust and her eyes narrow in contempt.

But it wasn't like she could tell him outright to fuck off when he got handsy, his hands sliding down her waist with a look full of lust.

He knew where her family lived. In fact, he'd even ordered a group of his men to always keep tabs on them just to keep her from leaving, effectively trapping her. She hated being trapped.

But she also loved her family. She would do anything for them. If that meant putting up with a pervy don, killing people, and dealing with constant, suffocating paranoia every day?

Fine. She'd do it.

------

"We're going to the gala tonight, angelbird. Eight p.m, sharp."

Bee didn't look up from the papers in front of her. "Mhm."

"I picked out a dress for you. You'd look absolutely breathtaking in it."

Ugh. She'd prefer not to show off ninety percent of her body, thank you very much. "I'll think about it."

"Please do, angelbird." The don turned and marched from the room, probably to spend four hours pampering himself and getting ready to meet with the other dons. Bee huffed and brushed a strand of her short, pitch black hair behind her ear, only for it to fall back into place a moment later. So much work to do...

.

.

.

As she thought, the black dress Goldie had picked out for her was far too risqué for her taste. Sure, she didn't mind showing off her body a bit, but she didn't need any more men leering at her tonight. Goldie was more than enough. So, she settled on something far better: a beautiful red, floor-length gown with a slit up the side of it and some gold jewelry with red gemstones to match.

Fixing her hair, she sat at her vanity, carefully applying eyeliner, lipstick, eyeshadow, and mascara. She rubbed her lips together and opened her mouth with a popping sound, the blood red a beautiful contrast to her icy blue eyes. Bee looked over her reflection critically before sitting back with a soft, pleased smile. She looked beautiful.

Satisfied with her appearance, she stood up and slipped into her red heels, gliding from her room and to the elevator. Outside the penthouse was a black car with a driver waiting for her. She sat down in the back, taking care to not catch her dress in the car door. As soon as she was situated, the car took off.

Hopefully this night would go without a hitch.

.

.

.

The hall where the gala was being held was already full of people when Bee's black car arrived. The car parked in front of the entrance, and a man outside opened the door for her, inclining his head to her as she stepped out, gracefully standing up. "Welcome to the gala, Madame."

"Thank you." Polite and simple. That's all she needed. She swept from the bottom of the staircase up to the main hall, keeping her eyes straight forward. She could see Goldie at the other end of the hall, talking to the other dons, including several monsters she hadn't seen before. One of them was a skeleton with a strange collar that was glowing green around his neck.

Ugh. Fantastic. More people Goldie got to parade her around to. She kept a pleasant smile on her face as she walked up to them, sliding her arm through Goldie's. She could feel his smirk widen. "Hello my darling."

She hummed in response, tilting her head against his shoulder. If she said anything, she'd probably start cursing him out. Goldie turned his attention back to the others. "This is my beautiful angelbird. The brains behind the operation, if you will."

His hand slid down her lower back. This greasy bastard.... She felt her eye twitch, though her smile remained pleasant. She glanced up and saw the skeleton looking at her oddly. She quickly averted her gaze, pretending to be shy. Please, God, just let this be over with quickly...

.

.

.

Three hours later, and Bee was done. She had abandoned Goldie as quickly as possible after his little stunt in front of the other dons. She was currently hiding from the other slightly-less-powerful mafia members in an attempt to not socialize. She just wanted to have a few drinks, then go home, wash all her makeup off, and go to sleep. She raised her half empty glass of wine to her lips again, her gaze flicking around the large hall.

She heard footsteps approaching from the side and glanced out of the corner of her eye. Oh. It was the skeleton with the glowing collar. He leaned against the wall next to her, silent for a moment. "You looked quite angry."

Ah. So he noticed. Her voice didn't change. "Sorry? You must be mistaken."

He chuckled, swirling his own wine glass. "Nah. Could see it in yer eyes, doll. You hate that guy... Goldie, was it?"

She didn't say anything, just took another sip of her wine. "If you want something from me, say it and leave."

"Quick to cut to the chase, eh? Sure. I wanna help you."

Bee turned her head to look at him. "I beg your pardon?"

The skeleton stared back. "He's the don. Even if you do most of the work, he's still the head honcho. Which means you gotta do what he says."

"Mentioned that fact, did he?"

"Oh yeah. Got some real creep vibes from him, too. Sayin' some nasty things about you."

Bee's grip on the wine glass tightened. Of course he would go behind her back and make disgusting jokes about her body. How very like Goldie. She could feel the glass in her hand starting to crack when the skeleton spoke again. "Like I said. I wanna help. I can help."

"Thanks for the offer, but I've been doing this for a VERY long time. I know what I'm doing."

"You hate it, though. You hate HIM, specifically."

He nodded at the blond still talking and laughing with the other dons. Bee sent Goldie a cold glare over the top of her wine glass. "... Fine. What's your offer?"

"Some of my guys are already working on being accepted as new members of pretty boy's mafia. I want you to try and convince him to let 'em in so they can get to tearing his empire down from the inside. In return, I'll help ya get away from Goldie."

He must've seen the look on her face, because he hastened to speak again. "I know ya've got things keepin' you from leaving. Rest assured, whatever you need, I can help."

Bee looked him in the eye sockets. "How do I know you won't snitch to Goldie as soon as I walk away."

He chuckled. "Aww, don't trust me, doll?"

"Absolutely not."

He barked out a laugh. "Clever lady. Alright. I'll give you my word, I will not say anything to him."

"Your word won't mean anything to me if I'm being beaten into a bloody pulp."

"Can see why yer the brains of the operation... Alright, here."

He took a ring off one of his phalanges and offered it to her. "Keep this until you know I'm not gonna rat ya out."

It was a 'don ring'. A physical representation of his status. She examined it, then slipped it on. As long as nobody looked too closely at her new ring for the rest of the night, she would be fine. "This will do."

"Sure. Hey, I wantcha to meet the guys who are gonna be 'joinin' yer mafia. Tonight. Now, if ya got nothin better to do."

"... Fine. Let's go. I never caught your name, by the way."

"Ya can call me Res, doll. What about you, you got a name?"

"You may call me Vee."

"Vee, huh. Welp, alright. Let's go."

He strode off with purpose, back toward the entrance of the gala. Bee followed him, not caring whether Goldie saw her leave or not. She didn't have a responsibility to be here anymore. She and Res got into a black car rather similar to her own, and the driver briefly glanced at her before taking off.

While they were traveling, Res gave her the rundown of who would be attempting to join Goldie's mafia. Several dog monsters, a flame monster, and another skeleton: Copper, Res' brother. After Res finished with explaining who was trying to get in, it was Bee's turn to explain the 'process' of getting into Goldie's mafia.

It... wasn't a pretty one. Dangerous, too.

Res furrowed his nonexistant brows. "And you're SURE they'll be fine?"

"Of course. Entry is brutal, but everyone going in has lived. And once they're in, there's practically no other security measures. You're part of the 'family' now. You can make your way up through the ranks, but it sure as Hell ain't easy."

"How'd you do it?"

"I've been stuck with Goldie for over a decade. I'm competent at what I do. But as much as I hate to admit it, Goldie favors me, so I get special treatment."

Res nodded slowly. "So... Jus' try and stay on his good side?"

"Yeah, basically."

"Thank you, Vee."

"Yeah. Sure."

Another fifteen minutes, and they had arrived at a large manor. Res got out and opened the door for Bee, and she stepped out, goosebumps crawling up her arms as her bare skin met the cold air. Res motioned for her to follow him, ascending the stairs up to the entrance. He strode inside, waving off his guards to let Bee pass. Inside, he called for his brother as Bee looked around. It was rather nice. Expensive looking, too, but that came with the benefits of being the head of a mafia.

A minute later, someone very tall appeared at the top of the second floor railing, looking down at Bee and Res for a moment before turning and walking down the stairs.

Wow. Okay. He was VERY tall. He easily dwarfed her, standing at.... eight feet, at the bare minimum. He looked down at her, mismatched eye sockets crinkling slightly. "Well ain't you a pretty lil thing."

Great. Another Goldie. She smiled sweetly at him. "This 'pretty lil thing' is your ticket into the biggest human mafia in the city, so keep your comments to yourself."

He blinked at her, then turned and looked at Res with a raised bone-brow. Res cleared his 'throat'. "Copper, this is Vee. Vee, this is Copper. I apologize for his lack of manners."

"Hm. Show me the others."

Res led Bee away from Copper, who watched her leave, an intrigued expression on his face. She had barely spoken to him, but he could already tell.

She was one very dangerous woman.

[sunflowerhazzavol6]

breathless

Y/n and Harry have been in a casual sex relationship for the better part of his tour, until Harry invites her to Paris with him and leaves her questioning the nature of their relationship. 3k words of pretty much pure fluff in Paris!

Being with him was suffocating.

Not in a bad way, but in the way where she was constantly breathless. Was this what love was? It felt like it. Swept off her feet, wondering where he was, what he was doing, if he was thinking of her. She felt like a part of herself was missing when he was gone, moping around in her dark apartment until he would make his way back home. He was light.

He was light now, sleeping on his stomach with his arms under the pillow. Sun made its way into the room between the curtains, running along his bare back. In her sleep she had forgotten he was there. She was so used to missing him that it was her default, but now he was here breathing in and out softly.

“H...” She whispers, wrapping her arms around him and resting her chin on his shoulder. He doesn’t stir. “Harry.” She kisses his neck, then his cheek, then his temple.

“Would you knock it off? M’tryna get some rest here.” He mumbles.

“Haz.” She pouts, wiggling her way under his arm. He smiles softly, his eyes still closed.

“Hello.” He tightens his arm around her, nudging his nose against hers before pressing their lips together. His lips were soft and slow with sleep, savoring the time. She lived for these slow mornings, mornings together when neither of them had to run off to do this or that. Mornings when she could melt completely into him and pretend like the outside world didn’t exist.

“I missed you.” She whispers, running her fingers along his back. He adjusts himself so both arms are around her, finally opening his eyes. He sighs, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Me too. I’m glad you could come to Paris at least, before the next leg of the tour.”

“Why would I turn down an all expenses paid trip to the most romantic city in the world with my sugar daddy?” She teases, kissing his chin. “And an added bonus, he’s great in bed and doesn’t have saggy balls!”

“And with that, my confidence has increased tenfold.” He laughs, kissing her again.

“So what's the plan for today?” She says after a while, pulling away and getting up out of bed. He grins boyishly at her body while she pulls on his shirt, moving his hands behind his head.

“You mean we have to leave this room? Or more specifically, this bed?” He nearly whines.

“Harry, we’re not in Paris solely to shag each other.”

“Shag? I really am rubbing off on you, aren't I.” He sits up on the edge of the bed, wrapping his arms around her middle and pulling her to him. “What would you like to see, darling?” He kisses her shoulder. “We could see the Louvre.” Her collar bone. “Maybe get coffee first.” Her neck.

“That sounds nice.” She murmurs, playing with his hair.

“If thats what you want.” He stands up, cupping her face in his hands. She nods, biting her lip. “Well fuck, y/n, don’t do that. Then we’ll really have to just stay in bed.”

She pulls away with a laugh. “Alright, get showered then.” He sighs dramatically, kissing the top of her head and going into the bathroom.

It felt good to be with him like this again. She visited him a few times while he was on tour, but even with her present there was still work to be done and she had to respect that. Now, with him taking a break, there was time to just be. Be a couple, be friends, be whatever they wanted to.

That was the thing. They had never established what they were to each other. The lack of labels was infuriating to her, which she hated to admit. In the beginning it was liberating, being free to see him but not to be tied down to him. Now it was plain frustrating. He could see whoever he wanted to, and she supposed she could do the same, but any fling she attempted paled in comparison to this. To him.

She knew he had been seeing other girls while on tour. If anything they were honest with one another, especially when it came to sex and other flames. He hadn’t said anything for the past few months though, which meant he either thought they were past telling one another their sexual conquests or he hadn’t had any. Y/n didn’t even know where to begin with that. She herself hadn’t been with anyone in awhile now, and being with Harry only made her want him more. He had never flown her out somewhere to be with him and him alone, sans entourage of his band and management team. They only had one body guard with them now, and he was only around when they left their room (which hadn’t exactly happened yet). That had to mean something, right? Paris, the most romantic city in the world, and he had wanted her there with him.

“Y/n.” His voice pipes up from the bathroom door. She turns from her suitcase, dressed in a floral wrap dress, to see him standing with his hair wet and a towel around his waist. “Shave or no shave?”

She laughs a bit. “You’re asking me?”

“Well, I plan on kissing you, so yes, I am asking you.”

“I like both.”

“So half shaved and half not?” He raises his right eyebrow. Fuck. Maybe they should stay in.

“Hardy har, very funny.”

“Shaved it is.”

“Shaved it is.” She confirms, following him into the bathroom. Yet another moment she yearned for when he was away. The mundane kind. Getting ready together.

Not long after, Harry was holding the door open for her, his bodyguard waiting outside and nodding at them. Harry says good morning and then takes her hand, leading her to the elevator. That was something to consider, she supposed. Although Kenneth was nice enough, they could never be truly alone. Harry always had eyes on him, and although it was something he was used to, she wasn’t.

“There's this little cafe just down the street.” He says. “They’ve got some outdoor seating and excellent lattes. We can grab a bite and then go to the center of the city to see the Louvre.”

She nods, holding the strap of her purse. He lets go of her hand, touching the scarf she had tied in her hair to keep it half up. “I like this.” He says, looking at her. “You look beautiful, y/n. You always look beautiful.”

Before she can say anything back the elevator door opens and his hand falls to his side, leaving her flustered as they exit.

The busy cafe was cute and as Parisian as y/n thought it could get. Granted, her version of Parisian was the things she had pinned to a board on Pinterest to help her contain her excitement for this trip, but that's besides the point. The outdoor seating was basking in the mid-morning sun, a few pigeons poking around for little morsels and crumbs. The guests were speaking all sorts of languages. The locals French, of course, but y/n also heard many others, tourists like herself. Only a few people seemingly recognized Harry, but no one went any further than a simple gesture to their table-mate.

Harry pulls out a chair for her, glancing through the window to look at the menu inside. “What would you like, y/n? I was thinking a pastry and a coffee myself.”

She sits, looking through the window to the inside. A group of teenage girls are looking through the glass at them, giggling and taking their phones out. Ah, she had spoken to soon. “Whatever you think I’d like is fine, and get me a cappuccino please.” He squeezes her shoulder and then goes inside with Kenneth.

As if on cue the girls all go silent, until finally a brave one separates from the group and shyly walks up to Harry, introducing herself. Y/n sees Harry laugh before gesturing to the other girls to come over. They all join their friend, talking excitedly to him as they all exchange hugs and take photos. Harry carries on talking to them until he has to order, hugging them all goodbye.

When he comes back out he’s smiling, shaking his head. “What?” Y/n asks, watching him sit down.

“That first one asked very politely if they could get photos with me and said that they all were massive fans and couldn’t believe I was here. And then another one asked who I was with.”

“Oh? And what did you say?”

“I just winked.”

Y/n blushes. “And why would you do that?”

Harry just shrugs, smiling when their coffees and pastries get set down on their table.

“You’re such a flirt, Harry.” She pushes his shoulder.

“I know. Isn’t it infuriating?” He grins, taking a bite of his pastry and groaning. “Fuck. Now that is delicious. Can you believe that food this flakey even exists?”

“Because you’ve got loads to compare it to?”

“I consider myself a pastry connoisseur, darling. Let me take a bite of yours.”

She smacks his hand away. “Greedy! Let me have a bite first.”

“You won’t appreciate it as much as I would.” He pouts teasingly, sitting back in a slouch and crossing his arms. Y/n laughs and takes a bite, cupping her hand underneath the croissant to catch the crumbs.

Harry was right. It was incredible. Flavors of butter, bread, chocolate, and strawberries all perfectly swirled together into one delicious bite. Every croissant she had had in the states was nothing compared to this. She lets out a moan.

“Hey now! Can’t be making noises like that without sharing.”

Y/n covers her mouth as she swallows with a laugh. “Let me try yours. What is it?”

“Apricot. Bloody hell, not that big of a bite.” He snorts at her eagerness, nudging his foot against her calf. “Can’t take you anywhere.”

“Who me? The messy, impolite American?” She says through a mouthful of pastry.

“Thank god you’re such a good shag or I’d have nothing to do with you.” He teases, handing her her pastry back. She laughs a bit but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. There was probably some truth to that, but she really didn’t want to admit it to herself. If she did it might rip her to shreds.

When they’re finished Harry cleans up their table and waves goodbye to the group of girls before coming back to y/n with a glass of water. “Let's take a taxi to the Louvre, shall we?” He hands her the glass, causing her to look at him quizzically. “Don’t give me that face. They probably have a shite food and drink policy at that place and I don’t want you running solely on caffeine and sugar.”

“I’m always running solely on caffeine and sugar.” She takes a sip. “Just admit you’re worried about me being dehydrated.”

“Now who’s flirting?” He grins, sitting down in front of her.

“I don’t like you watching me chug water, Harry.”

“Why, think I’ll find it unattractive?”

“Yes.” She says plainly.

“Don’t mind me, love. Just want to watch some water dribble down your chin.”He coos. She smacks his shoulder, and before she has time to even properly register what's happening he’s grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it gently, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles.

“Harry.” She hisses, pulling her hand back. She can feel the heat in her cheeks. “We’re in public.”

“I know.” He shrugs, standing back up. “Now finish your water so we can go.”

The entire taxi ride Harry chats merrily with the driver, commenting on a soccer team in the UK that was doing well. While y/n always found it endearing the way he called soccer “football” and how his accent got thicker whenever he talked about it with a fellow fan, her thoughts were racing. Why was he being so publicly affectionate all of the sudden, but was still joking about the sexual nature of their relationship? Why was he not dodging questions about them dating like he used to? Why did he care about whether or not she was dehydrated?

“Look at that.” He says with a grin, looking out the window at the glass pyramids in front of the museum. “Well, I hope your bets work out in your favor, mate. Can’t let those bloody irishmen get the best of ya. I know that from experience.” He pats the man's shoulder and hands him the fare for their cab ride before reaching over y/n to open the door. “My lady.”

Y/n steps out, followed by Harry and Kenneth. Within moments a tall, lanky man with dark hair and glasses makes his way over to them, wearing a pressed uniform with a name-tag reading “Pierre.”

“Monsieur Styles, welcome to the Louvre. I ‘ave been asked to escort you today inside of ze museum.” He says with a thick French accent. “We have taken ze necessary precautions to ensure that you are kept secure and comfortable inside.”

“Thanks mate.” Harry says, taking y/n’s hand. He was just full of surprise PDA today. “Ready?” Y/n nods, looking into his eyes to try to read him. Nothing but his cheeky smile.

Y/n knew Harry loved art. He had always told her that he felt that art was the best way to express oneself without uttering a single word. That’s why he dressed the way he did, paying close attention to every detail of what he wore when he wanted to say something with his outfit. She admired him for that, especially the way he expressed his femininity with ease. Him embracing that side of himself was wildly attractive to her, and she was always baffled by the way he was able to do that without ever taking away from his masculinity. He just used his clothing to re-define what masculinity was.

“Harry.” She murmurs, moving her free hand to his forearm to pull herself up to his ear. Pierre had led them into an empty hallway, where a museum security guard had joined them for their tour of the museum.

“Hmm?” He hums, putting his hand over hers.

“We can’t see the whole museum in one day, can we?”

“Probably not.” He nods in thanks when a door is opened for them, leading them into a room full of tourists. A few people stare in recognition, but he looks back down to her. “I guess we have to decide what we want to see the most.” He frowns when people start taking photos, dropping her hand. Her heart sinks.

“Well,” She starts, attempting to distract herself. “How about we just walk around and see what catches our eye?”

“Sure.” Harry says, still distracted. His eyes scanned over the crowd of people in the room, cautious and on edge.

“Harry.” She sighs. “Harry, look at me.”

His eyes shift back down, softening ever so slightly when they meet hers.

“Don’t worry about them. They’re not even here. It’s just us, okay?”

“Alright.” He smiles the tiniest bit, gently knocking his fist against her chin in a play punch. “Lets go look at art”

As much as Harry loved art, y/n loved it too. But while Harry loved it for the aesthetic, she loved it for the history. It had survived centuries and wars, and had seen more than she ever would in her lifetime. To any unaware passerby, they were just mediums on a canvas, but to her they were eras etched into time.

“Can you believe that people used to just live with this in their house?” She asks, looking at Harry. They were standing in front of Louis XIV, Harry’s hands clasped behind his back.

“Not exactly a house.”

“No, but you know what I mean.”

Harry looks at it, wrinkling his nose. “I suppose that is strange. People travel from all over to see this portrait and it was just a part of their decorations.”

“Harry!” She gasps. “We should go see Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss!”

“Should we now?” He smiles at her enthusiasm.

“Don’t act coy.” She says, starting towards a directory. “If only there weren’t so many rooms.”

Harry moves to stand behind her, resting his hand on her lower back. “Hey, there it is.” He points with his free hand. “We just leave this room and take a right. Come on.”

It was better than y/n could have imagined.

The story was romantic in itself. Cupid, sent by his mother Venus to curse the love life of the beautiful Psyche, instead fell in love with her. From that blossomed an innocent and nearly naive romance, completely entrapped in the bubble that love had created. Hidden away from the world. Y/n couldn’t help but shift her gaze to Harry, studying his profile. His eyebrows were soft with awe, lips parted in wonder. He looked like they did; statuesque, something to be preserved and admired. Timeless. She couldn’t help but feel that their stories were one and the same. Hidden, illogical, naive. Yet there was nothing and nobody that she was more sure of. And now here they were, seeing for themselves Cupid tenderly holding his lover like she was the only thing grounding him to earth.

“Did you know Psyche is represented by a butterfly?” Harry says finally, clearing his throat.

“Is she?”

He nods, rubbing his chin. “It symbolizes immortality, innocence, and transformation from one being to another.” He bites his lip, looking at her. “I like the idea of that. Being able to change but still remaining true to yourself. Who you once were.”

She looks back at him, gnawing on her own bottom lip. “Do you feel like you’ve changed?”

“Undoubtedly.” He says quietly.

Y/n looks back at the statue, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze. “From what?”

“Y/n…”

She pauses before opening her mouth, just to close it again.

“Y/n?”

“What are we doing, Harry? Are we together? Are we just friends? Are we just-” She lowers her voice. “Are you just in it for the sex? Because if you are that's fine, I can live with that. We can continue whatever this casual thing we have going on is, if that's what you want.”

He doesn’t respond.

She swallows. “Unless you’re not just in it for the sex anymore. Because I don’t think I am.”

He bites his lips together, contemplating something.

“Forget it, forget I even-” Before she can finish her statement he cuts her off, cupping her face in his hands and pressing his lips to hers.

They had kissed loads of times before, but never like this. Those kisses were heated, desperate, and motivated. The pressure of his lips against hers was calculated this time, pushing and pulling like he couldn’t think of another way sufficient enough to show her how he felt. For the first time in his life he was cautious, taking his time in the way she tasted. One simple kiss was enough to tell her that he felt the same. Had probably always felt the same. Grounded.

“Does that answer your question?” He breathes.

“Not quite. Maybe kiss me again?”

[milk-luvr-dot-com]

“A New Assistant” - The Thick of It - Chapter 2

Summary: While DoSAC fucks around trying to keep the data wipe a secret, Malcolm and Ivy begin to become more comfortable with one another.

Word Count (this chapter): 5222

Rating: Mature (for adult situations, language)

Warnings: No Ao3 Warnings, Explicit Language, homophobic language, fatphobic language, sexist language, ablest language

Categories: F/M, Gen

Tags: Falling in love, crushes, comedy, slow burn, explicit language, original female characters, AU - canon divergence, mutual pining, additional tags to be added

Chapter 1, Chapter 3

Ao3 link and full work under the cut.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24510592/chapters/59267578

Malcolm walked into the office, expecting to turn on the light. It caught him off guard when the light was already on, and Ivy was sitting across the room at her desk, quietly talking to people on the phone about menial garbage that Malcolm had put her on last night.

"Oh, shit." He said, dropping his briefcase beside his desk and settled into his office chair.

She looked up after finishing her call, "Morning, sir."

"Were you here all night?" Malcolm made a concerned face.

Ivy capped her pen. "No, got here early to sort out Anthony's mental breakdown about his stupid bloody department of education thing." She rubbed her eyes, which didn't smear what little makeup she had on. She looked tired. She could have been lying.

"Well, good morning anyway. Can I fetch you some tea?"

She thought it was a sweet gesture. He always tried to be kind to her, no matter how frustrated or pissed he was at anybody else. He was always patient. Even if he made a smarmy comment, it was all in jest. She had only been there a week, but she knew that Malcolm didn't treat anyone else like this.

"Aren't I supposed to be the one doing the tea fetching?" Ivy smiled meekly.

Malcolm didn't look at her, instead preoccupied with signing into his computer. "Right you are. Can you fetch us some tea?"

She sighed, getting up, "what kind?"

"Earl grey would be fine, thank you, Ivy."

"Mhm." She fetched it, then came back fairly quickly.

As she leaned down to set his cup on his desk, he began, "You ever see that movie with Rory Calhoun, where there's these siblings who sell meat but it's actually made out of human flesh? What's it called again?"

"Motel Hell?"

He snapped his fingers, pointing at her. "Motel Hell. Wow, you must really know your '80s horror films."

She chuckled, "I remember seeing that one at the cinema with my mates."

Malcolm raised an eyebrow, "in cinema?"

"Yeah."

He didn't continue, trying to calculate her age in her head.

"Sir, you're only about 4 years my senior." Ivy slumped into her chair.

Malcolm looked at her in disbelief. "No..." he turned his head to give her a side eye. "No, you can't be."

She pressed her lips together, and nodded. "Yeah. 46, as of July."

"I thought you were  approaching  your 40s. Christ, you look lovely."

"Oh, stop." She swiped her hand at him, grinning and blushing. "You're not that bad, either, Malcolm."

He sighed, "Anyway, uh, my point was that you and I are like the people from Motel Hell. Tag team of..."

"Shit?"

"Yeah, shit. So, I want to see you in action. How about you go up there and see what's.. shaking." Malcolm smiled, using his hands as he talked.

"Alright then. I'll take notes for you." She stood up, making her way up to the DoSAC workspace.

The sound of Ivy's heels echoed through the office space and send the same vibe as the Other Mother from Coraline. Once she rounded the corner, she didn't make a fairer presence.

"Morning, morning, morning everyone." The DoSAC employees looked relieved to see her instead of Malcolm. They really shouldn't have been. "Where's Nicola?" Ivy turned to Olly, who was punching in a phone number.

"Er, she's on a call." He said, which was a total lie, as she had just stood up and looked directly at her before ducking back down again, with a relieved look on her face. Again, she really shouldn't have been.

A blonde haired woman, who's name Ivy recalled to be Robyn, asked weakly, "Does he know...?"

She wheeled around, staring at her. They were the same height. "Hm? Sorry? Does he know what?"

"Er..." Robyn scrambled for something to say, clearly, "the best way to clear a paper jam?"

"I'm not sure, but in my expert opinion, you put a hamster in a tube sock and beat the printer over and over again with it until it works." She bluntly responded, then turned at Nicola's voice.

"Morning, Ivy. Uh, if you could sort out the sack race situation for me, that'd be terrific." She said to Terri, who agreed and asked what she could do. "Ideally, build a time machine so that we could go back and not invite photographers to the sports day."

Ivy rolled her eyes. Terri and Nicola continued for a few more moments, then Nicola turned her attention to Ivy, finally. "So, Ivy-"

"Oh, sorry, uh, Malcolm's calling, hang on just one moment." She made her way to the elevator nook.

"Malcolm, what can I do you for? ....Oh, yeah, it's going okay. Yeah they're being fucking weird, like those boys on that one show, Ghost Adventures. Walking around and shouting every five minutes, 'what was that?' .... no, not literally, sir. But maybe you should come up here, they look like they're about to admit something. They've got it in their little beady eyes. ....Yeah, okay. See you." Ivy slinked back to the main area.

She gave a warm smile on her way back. "Right, my apologies. What's going on, hm?"

"Uh-" Nicola began, but then was cut off when Ivy answered a voice call. "Hello, Rory, what can I do-... WHAT?" She shouted, and continuing, "ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? JESUS!"

Ivy ran off, towards the bridge point of the office. She continued to talk to Rory about something regarding what's on the press, something menial, but Rory always decided he was most important. That's why Malcolm gave Ivy the number, for her to handle it. Robyn and Glenn had a very clandestine conversation full of false laughter on the other end of the hall. She took mental note of it. Once Malcolm exited the lift, she ended the call.

They held conversation on their way back to Nicola's office.

"They're being fucking weird."

"They're always fucking weird, why do you need me up here?" Malcolm asked.

She exhaled through her nose. "I'm just worried it might be something big, and I don't know if I can handle it, okay?"

"You can handle it, trust me, you were fine, but since I'm up here anyway, I might as well stay up here." They stopped directly outside of the Secretary of State's office. "We'll talk about this later, okay?" He pointed at her, and they both entered the room.

"Little pigs, little pigs," he teased in a gruff voice, "Let me come in. Don’t worry about the hair on your chinny-chin-chin."

"Malcolm, Ivy, what was your call?" Nicola asked, smugly.

They both furrowed their brows. Ivy spoke first, "is it any of your business?"

"What was our call?"

Glenn tried to get a word in, but Malcolm continued. "You want to know what our call was? Sorry, I didn’t realize I had to run all the calls made through your bed-wetters switchboard, here."

"Usually he’ll just dial 1-1-hate." Ivy jumped in.

Nicola asked, "Malcolm, do you know?"

"Of course he knows."

"No, he doesn’t know."

Ivy gently elbowed him, whispering, "Fucking clandestine."

"There has been a massive irretrievable data loss. The last seven months’ worth of new immigrant details have gone, apparently lost in the computer." She finally laid out.

Ivy’s eyes widened out of shock, and then her brows lowered, angry. Malcolm paused for a minute, beginning to crack a smile and then a maniacal laugh.

"You’re fucking kidding. Nicola, tell me you’re fucking kidding." Ivy began, slowly raising her voice halfway through the sentence.

"Do you know what? Do you know what’s really fucking sad here, is that I don’t even have the energy to pretend I already knew. Which is for the best, because I’m gonna need all of my fucking energy to fucking rip all of your bodies to bits with my bare hand and sell off your flayed fucking skin as a sleeping bag to a normal person!" He turned to Ivy, "Ivy, go and get my bowie knife from my office, because I’d like to start now."

"Can I just say that getting angry actually isn’t going to help anything. I’ve done anger, I’m currently at grief, I’m working my way towards bargaining… whatever, you know, it’s behind me."

"Oh, that’s great. That’s fan-fucking-tastic, minister! You know what, why don’t you just explain your little plan to us here so we can pick out all the problems with it like crows looking for bits of flesh on a fresh piece of roadkill." The short woman spat, crossing her arms.

She sighed, asking Terri to explain the plan. "Well, blaming the department minister might be a high-risk strategy."

"Ooh, high risk. Power serve." He added immaturely.

Ivy smiled, then bit her lip, adding "Saucy."

"My pitch would be that this department is fatally flawed. It’s out of condition, it’s obese, it’s asthmatic."

"That a-girl, back over the net."

“You're really sure about that, Nicola, because-” Glenn began.

"Yes, wise words from the distinguished, elderly, gay fucking tennis coach here."

Olly interjected, "Seriously, I think we should talk about my strategy further because I really think that there's a way-"

"Oh, good, the tiny-dicked ball boy's having a go now, with his tiny little clean white shorts and a pink polo, here we go." Ivy pinched the bridge of her nose, leaning against the black filing cabinets.

"What about Sue Barker's little sister? What's she got to say?"

Robyn made some comment about lemon zinger, before Ivy checked her notes. "Does The Guardian know about this? The Mail?"

"Oh God- you two, can't even handle you, you fucking statue, on your own," Nicola started, motioning to Malcolm, "but now it's fucking Bonnie and Clyde. The Guardian, God I don't fucking know..."

"Shall I find out? Get some feelers?" The woman in the pink power suit asked.

"Yeah, go on, get your feelers out for the lads."

"What do you think, Malcolm, will shitting on the department work?" Nicola suggested, crossing her arms and rubbing one of her temples.

"Oh, sure. Let's cause a bit of friction, here, huh? Let's fire someone, let's fire Glenn!"

"You can't just fire Glenn, no."

"We could fire Glenn."

"Shall I get his file?"

"No! I've got a list!" The sickly fucking Mister Rogers (God rest his soul) shouted.

Ivy folded her hands together, bending down as if she was talking to a child. "Oh, you've got a list? Of what, your favorite fucking toys, you fucking immaculate toddler?"

Malcolm left the room, and so did Nicola and Glenn. "Ivy, come on. You're the new broom, you're sweeping up trouble with one end, broom-handling incompetent staff up the tunnel with the other."

"So how do we play it with the Guardian, then?" She chased after him.

"Smile. By gay. Smile, smile, smile!" Malcolm psychotically smiled. Ivy mirrored him.

"Malcolm, sir?"

"Huh?" He was at his desk again, stuffing his notes for the meeting at The Guardian in a pile.

"Am I coming with... you... to the thing?"

He stopped, looking at her, lost in thought. "Er... yes, but I'm going to need you stay out of the lunch room. Stay in the lobby. Have a lovely beans on toast or whatever it is you cockney bastards do."

She rolled her eyes, shrugging, "Ah, thanks mate."

"I'll call you or come get you if some shitty shit thing happens, like Nicola chokes on a piece of banana or some other disaster."

"I'd expect Nicola to choke on Jeffery's banana, trying to sputter out..." She continued for a moment, mumbling on about calling Nicola a wanker.

"You really don't like her, do you?"

Ivy looked up at him, raising her eyebrows. "No. I really don't. She's a fucking disaster with the press. She's a smug little stinging lit piece of coal thrown in your shoe directly from hell."

"Well, what can you expect from someone so low down on the list?"

She snickered, "Not much apparently."

"Fine. Yeah." Ivy looked up at Malcolm's voice. She was seated on an uncomfortable red seat directly across from the meeting room. She stood and met up with him again.

"Ah, there's your other half, Malcolm." Olly commented.

"Piss off." She answered.

Most of them piled into the lift, and Olly continued. "I didn't think you'd have come today, but I suppose she follows you everywhere, like a little puppy."

"Yeah, what is it with you two, Malcolm?" Terri chimed in. "Are you two dating?"

"Are we dating?" Ivy mocked. "No, we're not. I'm his assistant. He's my boss."

"Hot, isn't it?" The curly haired lanky bitch continued.

She sighed. "Olly, if you don't shut the fuck up, I'm going to tear off your arm and beat your thick skull to death with it." She pointed at him threateningly.

"Ooh, I'm so scared of the oompa loompa in the navy blue skirt."

"Don't fuck with me!" She shouted.

Malcolm shot Olly a stern look, to let him know he meant business. That classic Malcolm look that put fear into DoSAC's veins. He shut up immediately. They exited the lift and out of the lobby, then back inside into the van.

"Hey French Lieutenant's woman, we're over here, come on! What're you doing, marking out your territory?"

Nicola had a look on her face like she'd just seen a ghost. She'd fucked up somewhere along the line, Ivy thought.

"I need some air, Olly, come with me, now." She hurried out the car.

"She's not a post-match puker, right?"

"Fuck's sake."

"I know."

Terri began talking about wine. She stopped, in favor of asking more prodding questions. "How was your first week, Ivy?"

"Fine." She was pretending to write things down, instead drawing a caricature of Nicola in a straight jacket with a text bubble coming off of it saying 'wooden toys!'. She had it turned to Malcolm, who looked at it and smirked.

"He wasn't too hard on you, was he?"

"Nope."

"Are you listening to me?"

Ivy finally looked up. "Nope!" She smiled. Malcolm covered his mouth, checking his Blackberry, and pretending he wasn't grinning. "And I don't work for you, so it doesn't matter."

Nicola returned to the car, apologizing profusely and explaining herself to Malcolm. She ended it with a, "Sorry, Malcolm, I'm really sorry."

"Fucks sake!" He smacked his lap with his clipboard, "JESUS! CHRIST! Well now we've got another adjective to add to smug and glum, FUCKING RETARDED! Jesus! Do you not think it would be germane to check who you're talking to? It's a fucking newspaper office! It's not a fucking, sanatorium for the fucking deaf, is it?! Are you so dense?! Am I going to have to run around slapping badges on people wit a big tick on some, a big cross on others, so you know when to shut your gob and when to open it? Jesus Christ! Oh, but that'd probably confuse you as well, won't it?! That'll be TOO confusing! You'll see a cross and go, 'oh, fuck, X marks the spot! Better tell this little person all about the Prime Minister's fucking catastrophic erectile dysfunction!' Oh, but, not to worry! Not to worry, you've sent Olly over there to deal with it! Fucking Olly! He's a fucking knitted scarf, that twat! He's a fucking balaclava!"

Once Malcolm had finished his tear, he held his face, turning to look out the window. Nicola quietly left the car, leaning against the side of it and rubbing her face. She looked like she was about to cry.

"Sorry, Ivy." He quietly said, apologetically. "Sorry you had to be caught in the middle of that."

She had been silent the whole time, stuck in between those two. "Oh. It's okay."

"Don't I get an apology, too?" Terri piped up.

"No, actually, you don't, you fucking wad of bubblegum. Come on." Malcolm and Ivy exited the van, Nicola saw and followed from the other side. They approached the red head, and Olly was desperately explaining himself to her.

"The department's not really fit for purpose, I mean, Terri's quite bad."

"Not just Terri, I mean I'm not going to name names but Robyn, Robyn's shit. Total shit."

Olly nodded, "Robyn, she's total shit."

"O-kay. Olly, please fuck off." Ivy said, crossing her arms.

"What?"

"Go on. Go and have your fucking lukewarm tea. Mummy and daddy are talking." Malcolm added, shooing him with his hand. "I'm sure that we can settle this matter of you eavesdropping on a private conversation."

The journalist paused for a moment. "It was a public conversation."

"No. You are- you think you're so clever and you are so totally wanking with the wrong crowd here because this woman-" Nicola grabbed Ivy by the sleeve, dragging her in front of Malcolm and into center stage. "This woman, here, is the press."

"Nicola!" She hurriedly whispered. Nicola ran off, whining "Fuck, what have I done?" All the way back to the van.

"Do you think this is going to advance your career? Is this you moving forward?"

"I mean, at least my career has got a trajectory, whereas yours is about to crash head-on into a change of government."

"Don't you worry, girl, because I can still fucking steer some fucking flaming wreckage in your fucking direction."

"Yeah, I'll tell you what, once it's printed I promise I'll come back to you for a reaction quote. How's that?"

"Darling, I wouldn't fucking piss on you, if you were fucking allergic to piss, right?"

"Malcolm-" Ivy attempted to begin to deescalate the situation.

"No, I will fucking-"

The reporter began to walk away, "I'll come back to your wife, here, for a reaction quote, too. That's quite enough for one day. Jesus."

"We're not married!" He shouted after her. "Fuck right off, then!"

As they turned, Malcolm began muttering swear words to himself. "Are you alright, sir?" Ivy asked.

"No! I'm not fucking alright! Shit!" He spat, throwing his hands up. He huffed, "Sorry, it's just-"

"I know." She tentatively put a hand on his forearm that was attached to the hand stuffed inside his pocket. "Sorry, dumb question."

"No, you're fine."

Meanwhile, inside the van, the gang were gossiping like a bunch of schoolchildren about Malcolm and Ivy. Terri pointed, "Look, they're holding hands! They have to be dating!"

"What?" Olly looked out. "No they're not!"

"Okay, shh, shh, they're coming back."

Malcolm and Ivy walked back to their office in silence on their way back. Once they got back and settled back in, Malcolm broke the silence.

"Well that was a fucking whale-sized shit stain on this department."

Ivy clacked in her password into her laptop. Without looking up, she answered "This department is a whale-sized shit stain. To be completely honest, sir, it's exactly what I'd expect to happen."

He chuckled for a bit, then the room went back to silence. Once again, Malcolm broke it. "Ivy?"

"Hm?"

"What did you mean, this morning, when you said you thought you couldn't handle it?"

"Huh? Oh. Er... well, I meant exactly that. I didn't feel that I could handle a big reveal like that. And I had a feeling that was what they were going to do."

"Do you know what? I think you could've handled it."

"Sir-"

"I've seen you in meetings. I know how you've done at your last job. You're quick enough, you're... certainly smart enough, and you've got enough power in your voice to yell if need be. That's a big part of the job, too."

She smiled, warmly, and genuinely. She was blushing, just a bit, too.

"Don't doubt yourself. Okay?"

She sniffled, on the verge of tears. "Okay." As she nodded, a tear dropped down onto the paper she was reading. "Thank you, Malcolm. Thank you."

"Hey, hey, woah." He stood up, "Don't cry, I was just-"

"I know." She wiped a tear away. "It just means a lot to me, that's all." She grabbed a tissue, wiping away drips.

"Okay..." Just then, his cell phone chimed, a notification from the Daily Mail. They'd gotten their grubby little hands on the story already. "Oh, shit."

"What?"

"Mail's found out. Right, gotta get Nicola's spidery arse down here. Pick yourself up, and look alive, love." He punched in the number, and sternly talked into the phone, "Get over here. Now. Might be advisable to wear brown trousers, and a shirt the colour of blood."

Ivy didn't listen to that last bit. She was too focused on him calling her ‘love’. Yeah, it was colloquial around England to refer to women as ‘love’, but it was mostly in a demeaning or sarcastic method of use. It meant more that Malcolm had used it as a term of endearment.

Malcolm began once Nicola - and for whatever reason, Terri - had settled down. Ivy was stationed next to him, arms crossed, like a bodyguard of a mob boss, leaning against the back wall. “I just want to say to you, by way of introductory remarks that I’m extremely miffed about today’s events. And in my quest to try and make you understand the level of my unhappiness, I’m likely to use an awful lot of what we would call violent sexual imagery. And I just wanted to check that neither of you would be terribly offended by that.”

"Did you write that for him, Ivy?" Terri asked, as if they were friends.

"To be honest, I’d rather him not apologize for it, it’s funnier that way." She said starkly and with a bit of sass. "I’d rather him go in unlubed, if you will."

"I think I could do without the theatrics, Malcolm."

"Enough! E-fucking-nough. You need to learn to shut your fucking cave, right? Today you have laid your first big fat egg of solid fuck. You took the data loss media strategy and you ate it with a lump of E. coli. And then you sprayed it out of your arse at 300 miles per hour."

"I simply made a mistake."

"Pretty big fucking mistake." Ivy added.

Nicola furrowed her brow. "God, can you just shut up!"

"Hey, I don’t work for you. I don’t give a flying shit what you tell me to do."

"You got on the record and off the record fucking mixed up! What would have happened if like, George Martin had done that? We’d have no fucking Beatles, that’s what. Now, I don’t give a fuck about that. I’ve had to sit next to Paul McCartney at fucking Chequers."

"The data loss wasn’t my fault."

"Fine, yeah, but I tell you what. It came out pretty fucking fast once you were in there, didn’t it? Which makes me wonder, should I just go and talk to the boss? Should I go and tell him, 'I don’t think she’s up to the job.'"

"You said yourself that if he sacks me after a week, it looks like he’s fucked up."

"Yeah, but that was before, when your only problem was a fucking shit pun in a newspaper and a face like Dot Collen licking piss off a nettle."

"Okay, I messed up, right? I messed up. But I will, from now on listen to every bit of advice you give me. I’ll go on Question Time wearing a push-up bra and a fez. I’ll do the hustings on stilts if that is what you tell me the strategy is because you know about that stuff, Malcolm. I know that. It’s just that I’ve got things that I want to do, all right?"

"Of course you do, like Montessouri fucking rocking horses, I suppose."

“No, no.”

Ivy checked her notes, "Uh, the Mail has the motherload on this, yeah? But you know, you’re going to have to just swallow your pride."

"Uh-huh. Thank you, Ivy."

"Right, what’s the strategy?" Terri clicked her pen.

"Ooh, the Kraken awakes." He sarcastically said.

"No, no no. This is just the first part of the meeting that hasn't been about expletives or fezzes or stilts or teabagging. This is the bit that relates to media management."

"Teabagging?" The assistant inquired.

"I didn’t say anything about teabagging. Do you know what teabagging is?"

"Er… not really, no. I’m told it’s uh… unpleasant."

Ivy and Malcolm made eye contact, both thinking the same thing.

"Who do you want me to call? The Mail?"

"Yes. Go on, get the mail in. The Cheeky Girls back on tour." He escorted them out of his office, closing the door behind them.

"What a day, eh, sir?" Ivy said, returning to her desk.

"Er… Ivy, I’d rather you not call me ‘sir’ anymore. At least not when we’re alone."

"Oh. Okay. Uh, any particular reason?" She began fiddling with some papers, stacking them and clacking the edges against the desk to straighten them.

"No, no. It just feels a bit formal, you know? Like, oh, what’d I do to deserve respect?"

"Mhm."

The room returned to silence. Even though they were a week in, Ivy still wasn’t christened in Malcolm’s eyes. This was her first experience with a scandal that was actually proper. There were no long nights, where they were flip-flopping back and forth with options and the media while the cleaning lady worked around them, not yet. There were no miserable holidays where they spent the time sucking up to another MP. If Malcolm had any friends or social skills, he would have expected to have had a night or two sitting together at the bar after a long night, slowly getting hammered on cheap beer and the occasional hard malt. There was none of that yet. But he still felt like she was here the whole time. Like she’d been through thick and thin with him. He didn’t know if that was just her vibe, or if it was on account of the fact that he was slowly falling in love with her.

Wow, Malcolm thought. He’s admitting it to himself now. That was unheard of. He hadn’t been like this since high school. He hadn’t felt anything towards anyone, especially not since he took this job all those years ago. Shit.

"Hey, Malcolm?" Ivy finally broke the silence. Hearing her voice was such unrequited bliss.

"Yeah?"

"Do you… want to go for a drink sometime? Or something besides work?"

"Why?"

"Can I be honest?"

"No."

"I’m going to anyway. You seem like you need a friend."

He stared at the wood grain on his desk to preoccupy his senses while he thought for a moment. He finally answered, "Okay."

"Huh? Sorry?"

"Let's go, then."

"It's only 3:30, Malcolm."

"Yeah, but it's 5:30 in Finland. Come on, grab your stuff, there's a pub 'round the corner."

"We have work!"

"No, no no, it's okay, we'll just sneak out."

Ivy was taken aback by Malcolm suddenly rebellious manner. I mean, he sort of was rebellious regardless, in a different way. Swearing and hurling abuse at coworkers was his drink of choice when it came to rebellion, but he always stuck around and did his work. It's not like he was straight-lace, either though. He was just never the type to ditch out early.

"Christ, what if the press sees us?"

They sat up at the bar stools. Malcolm ordered them each a beer. "The press won't come near the pubs. They haven't yet, anyway."

"Haven't yet? Do you...?"

"No, not all the time. I usually have a stash in my office." He smiled, joking. She laughed, taking a swig.

"I wanted to be a bar maid when I was younger." She mentioned, offhandedly. "Went to school for it for a few months. Became preoccupied with other things." She continued to explain.

"Really?"

"Yeah. But, enough about me." She shook her head, gesturing to him. "Did you ever think you'd get into politics?"

He sighed, "Not really, no. I uh, went to school for journalism. Started at my local newspaper, which got absorbed by The Independent. Continued there. Slithered my way up the chain." Ivy raised an eyebrow. "I dipped my hands into politics while working there. I left the Indy and worked for what is now called the department of work and pensions, then, again, worked my way up from there."

"Mm."

"What about you?"

"Oh, uh... Well I-I didn't really have a career until my mid 30's. I've bounced at lower level secretary or receptionist positions for a while. In both politics and journalism."

"Yeah, 'cause didn't you work for good old Harry Pickle, the dickle for a while?"

She snorted, almost spitting out her beer. "Is that what they're calling him?"

"What, you didn't know?"

"No! The bloke always kept that sort of thing under wraps, I guess. For his own sake."

"Jesus Christ the man's a fucking control freak."

"I know, oh trust me, I know. I had to wake up early every morning to print out things he could check off to make him feel like he had more control, while I poured sawdust over his idiocy vomit pile and swept it up. Fucking disaster. And when I said I wanted to leave, I think they put me on you because you were the worst to deal with."

He paused, furrowing his brow.

"In their opinion. I genuinely enjoy working for you Malcolm, don't worry." She placed her hand on his forearm that was resting on the countertop. He looked at it, biting his lip and trying not to draw too much attention to it.

Oh God, is she interested in me, is she being nice, or is she just tipsy? He thought. No, we're only one beer in, she can't be. Stop staring, you look like a creepy old man. She's just... so beautiful.

He clenched his fist under the counter, scrambling to find other things to talk about. "Uh, what about before your 30's?" She hadn't moved her gentle hand.

"Oh. Uh..." She looked apprehensive, almost embarrassed. "Well, you know I went to bartender school. But before that I mostly just... stayed at home. I don't have any younger siblings. Actually, no siblings period."

Malcolm smiled. "You're lucky."

She chuckled falsely, "I'm really not. I er... had to take care of my mother after secondary school. She was ill."

"Oh, bless."

"Yeah," she looked down, smiling sorrowfully. "But, she didn't have long to suffer. She died when I was 19." He nodded along, sympathetically. "After that, bartender school. I worked as a barmaid. Got bored with it after a year or two. Then I went to undertaker school, while still bar tending in the nights."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows, shocked. "Really?"

"Yeah. I'm not kidding. If you ever need to mix a black velvet or embalm a body, you know who to call." She giggled. Malcolm laughed a long, admiring her as well. "So, then I worked as an undertaker until aged 33. I was offered to become funeral director, you know, the seedy arsehole who'll tell you shit like 'it's what dad would have wanted' when showing you a 10,000 quid casket. Had no interest there. So I started my assistant job in government, after going to a job fair. And the rest is history."

"Jesus, your life is so much more interesting than mine."

She chuckled. "I don't think it's all that cool. I mean, I've never been outside of Europe."

[lokikingofasgardslover713]

Off The Rails Part 1: Thor

Masterlist

Part 2: Valkyrie/Brunhilde    Part 3: Loki

DARK Thor Odinson x Plus Size Reader (Non-Con)

Warnings: VERY DARK THOR! NON-CON! RAPE! ASSHOLE THOR!

A/N: I found this prompt that spoke of Thor going off the deep end after Loki’ death & after he comes back to earth. He accidentally kills someone the first time in rage, but after that he enjoys the power that it made him feel. Well, needless to say I came up with a twisted thought and my muses go, HEY! What if he ignores other good thoughts & goes for that woman he had been admiring!? So, you get dark Thor & it may not end well.

This took on three parts, each is 3,500-4,500 words these are dark, but they come to a culmination of a decent ending I hope.

 Words: +4,200

The first time It happened, let’s call it the turning, the unfortunate after math of losing the war with Thanos, loosing Asgard, Loki, the events that led up to Sakaar, hell the last seven fucking years that the god of thunder had to endure with one disappointment after another all coming to a violent messy head on this night. Wait sorry, this morning, it was 1:13 am to be exact, a quiet, actually clean ally way not far from the compound, looking down at the thing that was once a mortal, though be it a very despicable one in his own eyes.

Broad fist still balled, blood was splattering his face and clothes & was even sure that there were bits of flesh splattered on him as well. Breathing had finally calmed, looking over his handy work, not even remembering if the bloody gore that was smashed into the pavement was man or woman, let alone the true reason that made the once gentle god of thunder snap. All brute force, never called out to the heavens for Stormbreaker or the lighting that he had harnessed the use of thanks to all said events.

A quiet sigh passing blood splattered lips as tensed body straitened, knowing he should fell bad, enraged at himself for doing what he, one fist uncurling to push back through shaggy dirty blonde hair that was growing out but looked to not be regaining its once golden glow. Though he didn’t feel remorse for what he done, what was one mortal anyway, especially after the snap, these, creatures, they just moved on it seemed days after someone died, no honor, no care really for the ones who passed or gave their lives to keep this shit hole of a realm alive.

Looking away & out to the quiet empty street, the horror that he had created already to the back of his mind & thinking of the one person that he had taken note of that thankfully had survived the snap. Y/N, that mortal perplexed him to say the least, deep in thought as he stopped before entering the light of a street lamp, recalling the curvaceous woman’s smile & how she treated the remaining team when they returned from Wakanda.

Y/H/C hair pulled back, she always made a point to be on their floor when they woke up or whenever anyone called, not to mention how patiently the mortal had put up with the hateful snaps & the like since everyone had been on edge for the last year. Staying hidden as he thought of the mortal & how he wanted to ravage her body endlessly as he looked up to the sky, he knew where Y/N lived. The woman was an agent, no, wait, she was actually a soldier hired by Steve himself to put up with all the teams bullshit.

Deep breath, blood stained hand slipping into his pocket for the cell phone to look at the time, unlocking it to send a text to Y/N, maybe she would answer, but stopped short & locked it back. No, she needed a personal visit, this couldn’t wait.

Cold air raking across bare leg had it pulled back under the covers, head pulling further into the cocoon she had made, the heat must have kicked off, explanation for the draft. Roiling to plump stomach to stretch to look over at the clock that showed 1:46 am & mind thinking of what was going to happen at the compound today. A shift to her right making her pause, furrowing sleepy brow as a hand wrapped around the cold grip of the pistol was holstered on the headboard in reach.

Without another sound the blanket was ripped free before Y/N could roll to her back, a scorching body fell over her as massive calloused hand clasped over her mouth while the other all but crushed the hand that reached for the pistol to make it let go & pull the hand to ample chest. Cold jeaned thighs spreading her own, this person was strong, they couldn’t be of earth, no way, hand releasing her wrist to go to her throat to hold tight while the hand released her mouth & felt it snaking between them.

Managing to look back enough to see the flash of mismatched eyes & shaggy blond hair swearing it was speckled with blood. Yea, that was blood, it was on his hands, on the one that was on her mouth, the one that had pulled his pants down & now wrapped in the elastic of the boy shorts she wore.

“Thor,” a raspy voice wheezed before the calloused hand wrapped around soft throat squeezed it off to squeak, man hood slipping between spread thighs to probe at unprepared cunt.

Holy shit! The god was way more of a god than she thought, squirming to get away but knew it was no use, he could easily snap her neck if he wanted, a silent scream leaving her gapping mouth as he forced himself into unready hole to rip into it. It burned, it was excruciating, nails digging into the wrist that was holding the hand to her throat screwing eyes shut as she felt the other hand anchor next to her.

“Don’t fight,” came the familiar but then again unfamiliar voice of the god she knew as Thor, a pant in shivering ear as he buried his scorching head into the crook of trembling neck.

“Don’t fight me Y/N,” he grunted with a painful shove to finally seat inside of velvet soft cunt, hand tightened to keep the shrill scream that he knew was wanting to spew forth quiet allowing her just enough to breath.

Y/N was kind to him, had been very understanding of them all, then she would understand this. Strong hips moving up & down to force back into clenching cunt. The god not sure how much longer he could keep this up, it felt as if the harder Y/N fought, though it got her nowhere, the less control he had over his release.

“Thor…,” came a weak croak, obvious he had loosened his grip in the fast approaching release or meaning to as he felt his cock swell in begging cunt that seemed to finally accept his girth.

“This isn’t you OK? Let me…,” Y/N tried but massive hand squeezed tight the instant it seized the god, letting out a ragged breath that hung in the air, the massive blond collapsing on top of her & pressing thick frame into the mattress as he panted with his release.

Finally, Thor released her for breath, sucking in a lung full to choke on the stench of sex, mind still reeling & body shaking at what had just happened. It was surreal, the god that laid over shivering body ultimately rolling off to button his pants & move about the room. Y/N was to in shock & pain to really want to move but forced herself to roll to her side to look down at the foot of the bed where the god stooped to pick up the cover & throw it back over Y/N before disappearing into the bathroom.

The water cutting on, splashing in the sink as if someone was cleaning off, then shutting off, the echo of a washrag being wrung out reaching roaring ears but not registering what it was for. Body shivering now & jolting as the covers where delicately pulled back. The thick framed woman quick to set up, back slamming hard into the headboard not making a sound as the god sat gingerly & paid her fretting no mind.

Calloused hand pulling the ruined boy shorts off to grab the knee closest to him to spread her open to him the mortal jolting as the wash cloth passed gently between sore folds to get her cleaned. Hands going to the wrist as a small whimper escaped at how painfully sore aching cunt was, the god sighing out as he realized he had made her bleed.

Hands holding to the wrist between her legs, Y/N looked the god over in the dim light that filtered in from outside, no mistaking the blood smeared all over him pondering what had happened as another whimper escaped at the fill of him making sure she was clean one last time. Surprised Thor finally met betrayed gaze when he pulled away, the god taking her in before pulling the cover back over shivering form.

Without a word the god got to his feet, tossed the rag in the dirty clothes hamper, stepped through her living room opened & locked the door behind him to leave Y/N clinging to the cover trying to wrap her mind around what had just happened.

It was agony walking into the compound at 6 am, that was the usual time the team started to stir, glad she had Nano skin to hide the ugly bruise that encircled tender neck, but it didn’t make it any easier to swallow, breath or walk for that matter. Stepping onto the elevator, pushing the events as far back as possible she had a job to do & Y/N needed to know how the god was going to react.

One boot onto the floor & immediately eyes fell on the god himself, sitting at the end of the corridor on the couch. Not turning his head but the soldier seen the glint in his eyes, more importantly the scared right one that glittered as it moved to look at her. The woman’s attention quickly averted to the raccoon that stumbled out of his own room, looking drunk.

“Jesus Rocket,” Y/N breached out, throwing her arm in the other strap of her book bag, wireless earbud in her ear as she helped the snarling raccoon get to his feet, ignoring the insult to let him be obvious he couldn’t hold himself up as she lifted over her shoulder, a grunt of pain leaving her from the ache the move caused.

“Put me down,” he slurred out to Y/N hitting the backpack but stopping to dig through it to find she had picked up the things he had asked about the other day.

“Still want me to put you down,” Y/N spoke, ignoring Thor as she carried Rocket to the sitting area to place him in his junked-up corner, gingerly sliding the pack off to pull out all the scavenged tech she had found in the lab.

“You can carry me any time,” he slurred but less drunken as he kissed her cheek before she stood to carry the pack over to the kitchen to see if more coffee was needed.

It made her heart race to look at the god, but he raped her, plain & simple. Though it seemed it would need to be kept to herself, suffer in silence as she opened the top cabinet for a familiar hot body to brush by, a ghosting of fingertips over the pistol that was holstered at the small of her back. Son of a bitch, what a real piece of shit.

“Did you pick up the paper,” Thor began casually Y/N hinting to the pack.

So that is how it was to be, the curvaceous woman thought. Well she didn’t endure all the hell of becoming a marine & SHIELD training to not be able to deal with this. Y/N turning to look over the god, watching him with hate as he reached into her pack as he always did waiting for him to look at her.

“You making a list for the team today,” Thor spoke casually, he seen the hate spark in Y/E/C eyes & like the dead body he left lying in the ally, he didn’t care, she was his now, nothing was changing that.

“Yeah, you write down what you wanted,” she snipped, showing defiance.

Damn, something the god was hoping wouldn’t rear its ugly head, well she would have to learn then wouldn’t she.

“It's in my room on my desk, you…,” he began before Y/N sweetly cut him short.

“Then you can run get it really quick. I need to go see if I can get Steve out of the bed this morning, F.R.I.D.A.Y informed me he has cut off his alarm & hasn’t rolled out of bed yet,” Y/N smiled with sass, pushing off the counter to take a step out of the kitchen & down the corridor.

Thor taking a step around the refrigerator to follow thick figure down the hall with his gaze, fuck, hopefully he want kill her before he gets her trained like he wants.

This time he remembered it was a woman, bloodied boots stepping into Y/N’ apparent, looking over to the counter to note the bottle of whisky left out with the glass empty & the clock on the microwave reading 2:56 am. Gaze setting on the .45 that sat next to the bottle, each bullet sitting up right in an neat row, the gun broken down into as small of parts as was possible & arranged neatly. The god knew she had dark thoughts before he started coming to her, teaching Y/N how he wanted HIS woman to behave.

Heavy steps in a hurry to reach the bedroom to find her laid on her side, blankets tossed to the floor, hair in a mess. Taking his time, he slowly approached, putting a knee on the bed as he laced calloused fingers through Y/H/C tresses to startle his mortal awake, hands flying to the one tangled in damp hair. The god fisting it tight to pull her up off the bed forcefully, making the mortal kneel on the mattress, angered at what he found on the kitchen counter.

“I’ve waited too long to return to teach you wat I expect of you haven’t I,” Thor began darkly, voice low as her lips clamped shut, jerking her to sit up straighter, hand going to soft throat prepared to squeeze if she tried to scream.

“I see the way the others look at you,” Thor admitted, Y/E/C orbs squinting in confusion at why it mattered, it made this the second time he returned to her having only been a week since his first visit, the god having taken to stalking her while at the compound & swearing he was doing the same outside of the place.

“You reek,” were the first words to tumble out waiting for the squeeze that didn’t come just yet.

“So sassy,” Thor smiled darkly still holding tight to Y/H/C hair having to be careful he didn’t pull to hard or he would snap her neck as she struggled with him.

“At least take a shower,” she snarled out, hand finally tightening to quiet her as devilish thoughts crossed his mind & watching the light fade in her eyes.

“Hmmm, sounds like a good idea. You could use one as well,” Thor snipped back keeping hold to her hair to jerk the struggling mortal into his arms hauling her over his shoulder to carry into the bathroom, Y/N head swimming from the whisky & now this.

“You have drunk too much tonight Y/N, but don’t worry I will help you work it off before you have to be at work,” Thor smiled as he let her to the tub floor, glaring at him through her eyelashes.

Nothing, Y/N could do nothing to stop this, Y/E/C orbs following him as he stepped into the shower with his clothes still on covered in gore once again.

“What is wrong with you? This isn’t…,” Y/N began before a hand wrapped around tender throat to prompt her to hush even though he didn’t put any pressure to it, swallowing hard as she continued to glare up at him.

“You have no right to lecture me on who I am & am not MY lady. I seen the whisky, the gun, I know what you planned to do but didn’t,” Thor began before she cut him off.

“Yeah & you can blame yourself for that,” Y/N spat hand flying to the wrist that held the massive hand to her throat putting pressure.

“So feisty tonight little one. Looks like this will be another rough session,” he smiled darkly as he pulled her to his lips harshly to bloody them in a heated kiss, especially when she refused to allow his tongue entrance for a taste.

Reacting quick Y/N grabbed for his hair to jerk him away & kicking out to catch his groin, but he easily stepped back out of the way with a dark laugh on her lips.

“I am a god little one, you should submit, you are to belong to me for the rest of your life,” he chuckled, hands releasing to take her wrist & pin them over her head against the cold tub surround.

“I belong to no one, you're nothing but a tyrant! What happened to you! You…,” Y/N bit out now, one hand taking her wrist & the other finding it's home on her throat once more.

“Mind your tongue, I have seen far worse things than you can fathom sweetheart…”

“It gives you no right to treat me like a play toy…,” she snapped out, more pressure, darkness creeping in.

“I care not for the formalities of this realm any longer! So, you will do as I say & be what I want! YOU are mine Y/N! Your body, mind & soul belong to me now! The sooner you accept your fate the sooner it gets easier!”

It was echoes, it bounded in her skull & made it ache. Trying to twist free as the god continued to rant, about what she wasn’t sure, the last words she remembered was belonging to him, the god that held tightly to her throat trying to tell him to let her go that she was, was…

Y/N woke in time to be flung to the bed on her back with a bounce, the god falling over top of her & not having the strength to fight him off, but like she really could. Letting out a yelp as he slid into unprepared cunt, hands falling to heated chest in vain to keep him pushed off of her, but not long as they were gathered in his hand & the other to her throat. One last floundering act of defiance & her body fell limp to the mattress, might as well allow him to finish.

Thankfully he didn’t take long, quick to get up & do like he done that first night. Cleaning her up, throwing the blanket over her & leaving. Though this time when she got up to head into the compound she realized he had taken her pistol & with it the whisky.

Thoughts of going to Steve about the god crossed her mind a thousand times, as well as the others, but she knew it would do no good, it would endanger them because there was none other except for the Hulk that could stop him & even then it was iffy. The sound of the mattress shifting under aching body as this time it didn’t seem he was about to just leave after clean up. Tonight, Thor was sitting next to her hand carding through wet hair after the recent shower he gave her, especially after learning that mortal women can get sick.

“You're not fighting me as much sweetheart, that’s progress,” he praised, Y/N pulling the blanket tight but not daring to move away from him, one of the first thigs he claimed to have taught her, hand sliding to soft cheek as a rustle of paper got her attention.

Shit, she forgot to put her notes up this evening, Thor laying the piece of paper down with dates written on it, dates that corresponded with him coming to her & deaths.

“It appears my little mortal is a smart creature,” Thor began sounding proud, but she knew the recoil was coming & braced for what he thought was a suitable lesson.

“I'm trying to help you,” she breathed out sleepily, eyes fluttering closed at the thoughts of what he was about to say or do, cherishing over soft cheek as he took in a breath before continuing.

“You are helping little one. That is why you are moving into my room at the compound. That & the fact I don’t like how the other agents look at you, I need you close, the team already thinks that we are dating, it will raise no suspension,” Thor began, taking the paper to tear it to pieces.

“Get ready for work, you're going in early & sleeping out the day in my room,” Thor admitted getting to his feet & hinting she do the same.

“No,” Y/N whimpered, she usually got to sleep off the ache when he was done with her before having to be at the compound eyes snapping open to meet his gaze expecting anger & jolting upright as he took a step back to the bed, pants still undone.

“You can’t protest sweetheart, you know to do as I say or there will be consequences,” Thor began quietly, stepping close, the first time she had shivered.

Y/E/C eyes darted around the room, eyes falling on the open bedroom door, though she had no clothes on she knew there was a way to get to her keys & get to her vehicle that was in the parking garage, there was cameras they would see she would have proof.

“Y/N, don’t you…,” Thor began, but too late as the soldier bolted out of the door, to the living area hand grabbing keys on the way & jerking the door open to run down the hall to the stairs.

Slamming into the stair door, Y/N didn’t think just reacted as she jumped from flight to flight, bare feet slapping the tile & slamming into the bottom stair well door in not time. Sprinting across the parking garage, Jeep in sight the stair well slamming open behind her, but she didn’t hesitate, getting in & starting the jeep up to speed out of the parking garage & onto the street.

Quick to hit a button on the dash that turned all the traffic lights in her favor, Y/N knew her safest bet was out of town, or she hoped, she could lose the jeep she had enough gear in the back to survive & make it off the radar, she could do it.

Except 5 miles out of town found her laying upside down in a ditch having taken a turn to fast, glass shattered all over & cutting what flesh was exposed. Y/N had only managed an oversized hoodie once out of town, this was it, this was her break down, she could do this no more, hand reaching to unlatch the seat belt & bracing for the impact on the hard roof of the jeep. Digging into the chaos for her pack & dragging it out with soar body what was once the front windshield of the vehicle.

Standing the instant a cold blast of air hit unclothed lower half, shivering violently, throwing the duffle bag down to pull out boots & pants. Stepping in the dirt to pull it on to brush the glass & like off bare feet to pull the boots on thankful they had a liner in them that acted as socks for occasions such as this.

Taking a step forward, Y/N never realized just how bad she was till she fell to aching knees, looking out across the sky to note the sun rising as pain shot through her entire body the rush was wearing off & the realization of what had transpired set in. Tears pricking, streaming down bloody face as she forced herself to numb legs to crawl out of the ditch & onto the highway to walk the road.

Though she only made it 30 foot before a blinding light crashed before her, shielding tired eyes, letting out a defeated shuttering sigh to swallow hard. The light subsiding, the sound of boots striking the pavement had the soldier hanging throbbing head & falling to her knees. She just couldn’t, this, she was done, body shivering as shoulders shook with silent sobs, doubled over with the pack on her back & head buried in bloody hands.

She only looked up when they paused in front of her, looking to the toes of the boots, heart hammering hard in sore chest & not wanting to look up to face punishment for running. Reaching up quick to grab to cool leathers & burry her face into their thigh to begin pleading for forgiveness. A lithe hand gently falling to soothe over the upset creature that clung to a muscular yet feminine thigh.

“As much as I love the begging,” a female voice began Y/N looking up to the tanned skinned woman that wore white & gray armor.

Y/N pushed away but fell to her ass unable to scoot away as the woman, the Valkyrie stalked forward & knelt before her to look her over.

“How about I take you back with me? I would like to have you for myself,” she smiled darkly reaching out to grab Y/N by the baggy hoody to pull busted lips to her own before straitening to jerk Y/N back to her thigh with a command to hold on as light swallowed them both up the instant she called out to someone that she was ready to go. 

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[stories-from-my-mind-to-yours]

You don't know you're alive until you're almost dead.

Cpt Craig Stevens of the United States Space Marine Corps made his way sliding down the emergency ladder as the sirens were blaring through the ship. His augmentations made him faster, smarter and stronger than humanly possible. His eyes saw every detail of every inch even at almost free fall speed. The signs with levels swooped past his eyes, as he saw level 17 he jumped off, ready to turn right and run to the armory. That was, if there had been any working artificial gravity on 17. There wasn't. He tried to turn as he soared through the air at break neck speed, but to no avail. He desperately clawed at everything, ANYTHING, to stop him from hitting whatever was in his path. In the corner of his eye, he saw the large titanium beam he had just propelled himself towards. "Fuck, this is going to hurt", he thought to himself before the violent impact knocked him out.

Mission specialist/engineer Sophia Karlsson woke up as the first alarm sounded. She practically jumped into her uniform, grabbed her utility belt and looked up at the stat screen. Her eyes widened in pure disbelief, and she bolted through the barely opening door, snatching her MPH (Multi purpose helmet*) from the shelf just outside the door. She felt a massive shiver through the floor, and almost fell over. It had felt like an earthquake, in a spaceship! She put her belt and helmet on, and called out for The ships A.I.

"T.I.N.A! SITREP! deploy repbots A.S.A.P and close all air locks! I wanna know what's going on NOW!" Her training kicked her into overdrive, adrenaline rushing through her veins, it felt like ages before Tina replied.

The familiar robotic voice crackled lightly in her ears before complying.

"A hull breach detected at level 6 caused an automated sealing of all adjacent air locks. Atmosphere holding steady at 86%. A.G.I (artificial gravity inducer*) down on levels 13, 17 and 21. Repair bots deployed. Multiple casualties detected. Smoke alarms on multiple levels."

"What the hell is going on Tina?!" Sophia shouted with a slight hint of panic in her voice.

"I do not know." was Tina's simple reply.

Commander George Engel of the United Space Federation, captain of the USF SX Concorde, woke up freezing, disoriented and had trouble breathing. His ears were ringing, he had a blasting headache, and he didn't even notice the gaping hole in his bedroom wall, that he was on the wrong side of, before his heart had stopped beating. His last thoughts were that he did like the view. Ice covered his grey hair quickly, and his eyes glazed over. Along with himself, a large number of bodies were slowly drifting away from the damaged spacecraft.

MS/E Sophia Karlsson knew she could be hot headed, stubborn and sometimes arrogant. But she loved her job, mostly. But trying to repair a ship possibly under fire, ON fire, isn't anyone's favorite job. But her quick thinking had probably saved at least a dozen lives, even if no one else knew it. She connected the last circuit board to the A.G.I control board and rebooted it. The dull thumping of the gravitational generator recommenced. The vibrations were further apart now, like whoever was firing at them were getting bored. Were they under attack? She wanted to know, but didn't expect someone to tell her. But she had to try.

"Tina, get me the bridge on vidcom."

Her helmet-screen came on, Major Erik Karlsson replied. His familiar voice calmed her frantic pulse, and reassured her everything would be all right. She saw only his right side, as he focused on other matters, his helmet sat at the control panel beside him. He looked drenched in sweat, his red beard dripping. He glanced at the screen beside him and smiled.

"Tell me how bad it is."

Sophia quickly summarized what she knew.

"31 unaccounted for so far, 19 badly injured or deceased. Fire is out, A.G.I. is up and running, hull damage manageable and repairs underway. What happened? Sir." She added hesitatingly, not sure of his new position, he shouldn't be on the bridge?

"Tina, give us a private channel." Tina acknowledged their comlink was secure with a sharp beep. Major Karlsson continued. "It was a meteor shower. Caught us by surprise, since the proximity radar had been turned off. Get me the log, I want to know who did it."

"I'll get on it right away. Anything else?"

He turned to face her on the screen for the first time during their short conversation. She wasn't ready for the gash that ran across the left side of his face, where his eye had been there was a bloodied bandage, and his neck, beard and uniform were stained dark red. A bioseal covered the lower right half of his face, meaning he had been treated for his wounds already. The sight was almost too much for her, and tears started filling her eyes.

"I'm just glad you're alive sis. Everyone above me in rank got sucked out when the captains cabin were hit. Every door opened shortly before. Only reason I'm alive is because I heard the doors open, so I got up and closed the airlock between our half and the senior officers department. The officers in training can get loud sometimes you know?"

She realized how close he had been to dying. Her throat clenched up, and he saw the expression on her face and chuckled.

"It's ok sis, I'm not dead yet, and I don't intend to die either. You just keep us floating and we'll be all right, ok?"

She still couldn't utter a sound, so she smiled, he smiled back, that crooked smile was made worse by half his face being missing.

"You didn't feel anything when this happened right? I knew that twin clairvoyancy was bullshit." She laughed out loud, the shock of seeing her brothers face like this had her mind in shambles. If there was one thing he could always do it was make her laugh. He was her big brother only by a few minutes, but he was as steady as a rock, a fixed point in whatever storm they were in. She couldn't bare to loose him.

"Can you take a look at level 6 when you have time? I hate to load everything on you, but I don't know who I can trust right now." She nodded, then quickly realized he couldn't see it.

"Yeah sure." Her voice held, but just barely. He smiled at her again, then resumed his duty as Commander. Talk about a speedy rise in rank.

She terminated the vidcom and collapsed on the floor. Tears streaming down her face, she shivered from head to toe. 50 probably dead. Sabotage. Murder. On a space exploration vessel? Why? How? Her mind was going on adrenaline, shock and recycled oxygen, she needed a drink. Or five. "Tina, secure the logs, and get me Craig on vidcom." She needed him, now, more than ever.

"Captain Stevens is unavailable for vidcom at the moment. Logs are secured."

"Well where the hell is he then?" Her heart skipped a beat.

"Captain Stevens tracker is at level 17. His Multi purpose helmet seems to be in his personal locker." Tina replied.

"Yeah of course, why have your helmet on you, that would be stupid."

Tina didn't reply.

She headed for the elevator, but it was used for transporting injured down to medbay. She sighed and glanced at the sign next to the elevator, indicating she was on level 30. Great. Only 13 flights up by ladder to 17. She opened the service door next to the elevator shaft and started climbing.

The medbay was jam packed. The I.C.U was full, all nurses had been on their feet for 20 hours, and doctors Green and Moreau were exhausted. But finally everyone was stable. They had only lost two to their wounds, thanks to their surgical skills, and fantastic nurses. Doctor Tom Green collapsed on the couch in their shared office. Doctor Frank Moreau was already sleeping in his chair. They had both taken more than one stimpak, and the crash was imminent. He just hoped nothing else would happen for the next six hours. He slowly drifted of to dream land.

Sophia had reached level 21 and her arms and legs were burning. Only four levels to go she thought to herself. She secured herself to the ladder and leaned back to rest for a moment.

"Tina, show me the logs from when the proximity radar was disabled." Pages of green text on a black background appeared on her screen. Last disabled by Tom Hardy, engineering, one hour before the meteor shower hit. "Tina get me Tom on vidcom."

"I am sorry, I can not find Tom Hardy on the ship." Replied the synthesized voice in her ears.

"Show his last known position."

An overview layout of the ships profile were shown on her screen, a small green blip appeared on top of the bridge outer hull as the ship profile turned three dimensional and turned to show his position relatively to the underlying structure.

The proximity radar tower was immediately above Commander Engel's quarters. Coincidence? Perhaps. But she intended to find out.

"Show me Tom's location at the moment of impact." The image showed Tom's blip floating away into space mere seconds before the first meteor hit them. Something had happened, Tom had been there, but she couldn't say if he had been involved in any way. She dismissed the images on her screen and continued her climb.

On the bridge order was slowly returning, as their new captain slowly assessed his new crew members. His voice was firm and clear, but his mind was racing. He had not been vetted for command as he had a minimum of 6 years to clear the experience needed to be even considered. But he had been an officer in USF for seven years, had commanded several ground missions and he was well known for his calm no matter the situation.

Lieutenant Carlisle requested his attention.

"Commander, we have a possible jackpot 90 minutes out, please advice."

"On screen." He replied.

The screen showed what looked like a replica of Earth. Clouds, seas, and land, it looked perfect.

"Any designation Carlisle?"

"Negative sir, unregistered planet."

He had no choice. They were in desperate need of repairs, and planetside repairs would take immensely less time. "Helm, plot a course, slow and steady. Get us there in one piece."

Their unanimous "Aye sir!" made him smile. Ah, to be young and foolish. He was 32 himself, one of the youngest to make officer, and by far the youngest to make commander. But the circumstances were just that, circumstantial. "Now let's just survive this day, and then we'll see." He muttered to himself.

Sophia had reached level 17 only to realize that the door was jammed. Of course, how could it not? Today was not a good day. Everything was going to hell. What more would turn out to be a disaster today? She sighed. She connected her arm-mounted service module to the door, and forced a manual override. The door groaned loudly as it slid almost halfway open, revealing total chaos on the other side. She squeezed through the opening and stepped into the hallway. "Tina, where is Craig?"

"Captain Stevens location is Junction 6 Delta."

She looked up at the orientation signs at the top of the wall. 6 Bravo. She went right, towards junction 6 Charlie. When she reached Charlie, she couldn't see Delta. The passageway was completely blocked by debris. She went straight ahead but there was no way she could get through. She used her card to unlock Charlie 8, whoever lived there wasn't home anyway. The small living space was tidy, and looked exactly like all the others. She opened the closet towards the Delta wall. All closets had emergency doors in them, in case the electronic doors failed. "Tina, open Charlie 8 emergency 2 please." The door slid open, revealing a wall of clothes behind it. She moved the clothes aside and peeked inside. Empty. She stepped through and made her way through the cloned room to the door, which slid open silently. The debris blocking the corridor to her right was a massive wall, but she couldn't do anything about that now. To her right was Delta junction, but no Craig. "Tina, where is Craig?"

"Captain Stevens location is Junction 6 Delta."

"Show me his tracker on screen." A fluttering image of the junction from above showed him to be just around the corner to the left. She took two steps forward and stopped. Blood. So much blood. She dashed around the corner, careful not to slip in the sticky red substance, her heart beating so hard. "No no no no no, Craig, nooo!" Her panicked scream echoed of the walls. She tried to jump over the pool of blood on the floor, landing on her knees in it, she checked him for a pulse. She couldn't feel anything. His face was pale, eyes half closed, lips blue. "MEDIVAC NOW TINA!" She screamed, she couldn't hold back the tears and panic in her voice. She held her ear above his mouth, and felt the faintest breath escape his nostrils. She couldn't see where he was bleeding from, but she didn't dare move him. An automated emergency stretcher unfolded itself behind her, and beeped loudly to call attention to itself. She slid out of the way quickly, her hands covered in Craig's blood, the stretcher folded itself over him, sealed itself and shot into the emergency transport chute. She sat sobbing on the floor, convinced he wouldn't survive. The floor in the hallway was covered in blood from side to side.

The emergency alarm sound in the medbay, which announced 10 seconds to arrival of an emergency stretcher. Doctor Green shot up from his chair, bloodshot eyes and a headache from hell, but he was awake at once, knowing he didn't have a second to spare. The second alarm meant 5 seconds to arrival, but he was already out the door.

Two android nurses came bursting out into the ambulance room, just as the stretcher came bursting through the door, alarms blaring and red and blue lights illuminating the walls. It landed on the table in the middle of the room and unfolded it's passenger. Doctor Green immediately called out for five units of blood, and turned captain Stevens in his side. He had a deep gash across the base of his neck, but there was almost no more bleeding. "Make that 10 units nurse! NOW!" Nurse Avery, an android powered by Tina, was way ahead of him. She already had two bloodlines connected, as well as stitching the deep wound in the captains neck. Being augmented, he had quick release connections in both his armpits, giving him a fighting chance, but hypoxia will kill any brain, augmented or not. Sophia had made her way to the medbay a few minutes later, and watched through the small window in the door as Tina embodied every tool at her disposal to save his life. A hand on her shoulder startled her, a small scream escaped her mouth before she jolted around and saw Tina's second android nurse Ava. "Forgive me Sophia, I didn't mean to scare you."

Sophia waved her hand at the android, and looked over her shoulder at the lifeless body on the medical table. She whimpered helplessly, tears flooding her eyes again.

"You shouldn't be here Sophia, please come." Tina's soft voice calmed her a little bit, but not much. She shook her head and exclaimed sharply "No! I'm staying here, I need to see him!" Sophia collapsed once again to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably, the fatigue finally catching up to her. Tina lifted her softly and easily into her arms, and carried her to the waiting room couch. She held her closely, while simultaneously working on the love of her life. Tina diverted more computing power to the android nurse, helping it make its best effort at saving Craig's life. Artificial intelligence shouldn't have favorites, but T.I.N.A isn't any AI. And Sophia was her favorite human.

Sophia woke to doctor Green lightly shaking her shoulder. The expression of resignation on his face was what she had feared. Her mind in shambles, she had no reason to hear his apologies. She bolted upright and ran to the window. The table was empty. The android nurses stood at their charging stations. Everything stopped, time ceased to exist. The only thing in her universe was pain. A whimper of helplessness escaped her as she slowly lost all power in her legs, the pain inside tore through her like a plasma grenade, and her scream could be heard several levels both above and below. She didn't hear the door opening behind her, the sound of heavy boots on the floor, she didn't hear her own voice screaming, a deafening sound that drenched everything. But when she felt the familiar arm around her back her scream suddenly ended, the other arm grasping her legs and as lightly as a feather lifted her up to his chest. She looked into his icy blue eyes, she could barely breathe, she clutched his hair in her hand, she pressed her face in his neck and she cried. And she slept.

Part II

https://roninjason.tumblr.com/post/171918375360/you-dont-know-youre-alive-until-youre-almost

[ava-rosier]

Mr Right Swipe (preview)

IDK how I feel about this rough, rough draft. I just think I had a video of this concept playing in my head, but the style of what I’ve written kinda clashes with that video? Anyways, I’m probably going to hardcore regret putting up this version, but whatever. Have a peek at my modern AU Jonsa fic with supernatural creatures and Tinder.

Rated Explicit for mentions of exuberant dicks and butt stuff.

His nose itched.

That was the thing that dragged Jon from the murky depths of unconsciousness. He'd had no dreams, which, for his kind, was unusual enough to alarm him. He reached up to scratch the side of his nose, only to come up short. Frowning, he blinked his eyes faster to clear his vision as he simultaneously checked the status of the rest of his limbs and grasped at the frayed threads of his memory in an attempt to figure out what in all seven hells had happened the night before.

In quick succession he came to the following conclusions:

One: both his wrists and his ankles were currently bound by manacles to an ornate and black-painted bed frame. Two: from the darkness outside the window it wasn't properly morning yet- an old-fashioned pendulum clock in the far corner declared it just after one. Three: he was starkers, with not even a measly fitted sheet to cover his hips. Four....four was...oh yeah: hadn't he gone on another Tinder date earlier that night?

As if summoned by the clanging of metal, a redheaded woman strolled into the bedroom, humming softly and holding a tray in her hands. Her hair, which in the dim light of her profile picture had appeared dark brown, was actually a dark red that, if she weren't a witch, he would think unnatural. So much for avoiding redheads after Ros and Ygritte, neither of whom had appreciated his stockpiling of kitchen devices.

Melisandre was in her mid-thirties (maybe) and that had been part of the reason Jon swiped right on her- he was looking for something serious and so was she. Though it was becoming increasingly evident she might have a different definition of 'serious' than he did. They'd met at a trendy restaurant with some kind of postmodern approach to food, which pretty much meant Deconstruct Everything. The food had sucked and Melisandre had waxed philosophical on every damn subject.

Jon hated philosophy- he'd barely passed the 100-level course back in undergrad. But the combination of his frustration with the dating scene and the lousy food had driven him to drink too much. Hence why he'd gone back to Melisandre's place with her and drank even more... Based on the pounding headache he had, the residual sluggishness in his limbs, and the way his heart raced, Jon would hazard a guess he'd been slipped some kind of drug in the wine she'd given him.

“Uh...if you wanted to do bondage play, you could've asked me, you know?” He said, trying to sound nonchalant and not at all like a prey in a hunter's crosshairs. He shook one arm, making the chains rattle. She had definitely been coming onto him earlier and even though Jon had no intentions of going on another date with her again, he- like the damned masochist he was- was down for  a fuck, especially one with a woman whose body language said she knew what she wanted.

Melisandre frowned. “You weren't supposed to wake up this quickly. I must have made a mistake in the calculations.” She set down the tray and now Jon could see that instead of food, or even sex toys, the tray held an array of apothecary ingredients.

He was never using Tinder again.

“Wait, wait, hold up!” He called out when Melisandre turned to go, probably to check out said calculations and maybe knock him out again. She paused and turned back. “Just what were you planning on doing with me?” He definitely sounded more than a little panicked then.

“Your dragonseed would be the perfect contribution to a spell I devised to create a shadow baby,” she stated simply, as if that were all the information he would need.

“...say what?”

Clearly she had Googled him. That was the only explanation. Melisandre must have looked him up and figured out he was the son of Rhaegar Targaryen. However, he decided not to correct her on his species classification. Yes, his father was dragonkind, that much was true. But Jon had taken after his mother's side of the family, who were werewolves. And thank the fucking gods, both old and new, that he had. Especially now.

Melisandre smiled, her blood-red lipstick giving her a terrible sort of beauty.  “You are flame and I am shadow- together we could create the most perfect, powerful child who isn't bound to the physics of this realm.” Her chest rose and fell as she delivered what had to be the worst elevator pitch Jon had ever heard. “Alas, it won't work if I've made a mistake in the calculations, which I must go check right now. It wouldn't do to have you awake during the weaving of the spell,” her lips turned down in a pouty moue. “All that thrashing around in agony might prevent the reception of your seed.”

The recep- his seed- no, just no. No. Fucking. Way.

Jon watched her waltz out of the room, mouth agape for all of five seconds before he yanked with all his strength on the manacles. A dragon-shifter in human form was no stronger or faster than the average human. A werewolf, on the other hand, could call upon greater strength as well as sharper senses. Melisandre had probably coated the manacles in some kind of specific inhibition spell to prevent her dragonkind victim from shifting and breaking the metal.

It took several tries before Jon tore the pillars out of the bed-frame and, nose open, started to track down his belongings. Mercifully, she had left his clothing, wallet, and phone on a chair in the corner. He didn't even bother to redress and instead clutched the bundle to his chest before taking a running leap through what turned out to be a second-floor window. Broken glass rained down onto the lawn as his ankles took the brunt of his momentum and weight. The cuts would heal, though he really hoped none of the drunk undergrads staring at him and his wildly-swinging cock with wide eyes from their position on the sidewalk would end up being in one of the classes he TA'd for.

He was definitely never, ever using Tinder again. No more redheads. No more witches. No more redheaded witches.

This is absolutely the last time I use that bloody app!

“Teach me your ways. I'm ready.”

Sansa's proclamation was met with silence from the other four women sat in a corner of VinTerAge, one of their favorite nighttime haunts. Their table was a veritable littoral drift of empty glasses as well as the half-full ones they were currently nursing.

Margaery and Myranda turned to stare wide-eyed at each other, fists vibrating in the air as they emitted twin squeals.

“Is she asking what I think she's asking?” The first asked the latter in a stage whisper.

“I think she is!” Myranda gasped. “The blessed day has come!”

They fake sobbed together.

Sansa sighed and stacked her arms on top of the table, watching her friends' antics with pursed lips. “Are you two done?”

“I doubt they're done, but I'm lost,” Missandei interjected, frowning at Myranda and Margaery's histronics. Sansa could practically see the linguist in her struggling to parse some meaning from the context of their outburst.

The final woman at their table, both older and taller than the rest of them, raised a single eyebrow, her attention sufficiently torn away from the conversation she'd been having via thumbs on her phone. “Don't ask. You'll probably regret knowing the answer to that question.”

Sansa had met Brienne when the other woman had been the TA in her 'Chivalry In The Age of the Five Kings and Three Queens' course and the two had struck up a friendship after the term was over and Sansa had expressed an interest in continuing on for her Master's after she finished undergrad. Missandei she had met in a Valyrian language course, and by the time they'd been reunited in 'The Old Tongue in Literature' and 'Rhoynish Branch Languages', they were fast friends. Sansa was well aware that there was a division between the two women and her other friends, Margaery and Myranda, who were a great deal more caustic and free-spirited. But they were all here for her, which she appreciated.

For Brienne and Missandei's benefits, she explained: “I've decided I'm done looking for love. Right now, I just want to get laid. Forget commitment, I’m in the market for multiple orgasms.”

(“YAS QUEEN!” Myranda mock-sobbed.)

“Look, I don't even care if we're being OTT,” Margaery declared, flipping the long, expertly-blown honey brown layers of her hair over her shoulder as she directed her next comment to the confused women. “You have no idea how long we've waited for this one to develop her Inner Hoe.”

“I'm sure you mean well, but that sounds terribly speciest, and chock full of stereotyping,” Brienne argued, sitting up straighter in her seat.

Sansa stabbed her straw into the slush of her lemonade margarita, well aware of the plethora of issues she had with sex and sexuality. She didn't have to be a shrink to know said issues were rooted in the fact she was a sex witch.

Myranda ignored the tension between Brienne and Margaery, grinning at Sansa as she rooted around in the massive, ridiculously expensive handbag she'd gotten as a gift from one of her sugar daddies. “Don't worry, sweetie, we'll find you plenty of willing victims in no time.” She pulled out her phone and began tapping at the keys.

Sansa groaned. “For the hundredth time, Randa, I don't suck men's life force out through their dicks! I'm not a succubus- totally different classification.” For good measure, she took a deep breath before adding, “And besides, if Marg is still alive and talking after that one time we had sex, I think you're well aware of this.”

She shared a commiserative smirk with her oldest friend in the city.

First things first: Sansa Stark wasn't a nymphomaniac. She wanted to be clear on that. Not that she had any problem with women who enjoyed sex frequently and in varied forms.  It was just that she was the tiniest bit oversensitive to people assuming she had a pathological addiction to sex simply because she was a witch who used sexual magic. People tended to get weird about it- there were no shortage of stereotypes and assumptions about 'sex witches'...namely that they would cheat on you and were uncontrollable nymphomaniacs.

Which made it harder for her to find someone long-term. That had been a difficult reality to come to terms with since Sansa's fantasies usually ran along the lines of vaguely erotic domestic scenes. Alas, despite her drastic attempts to suppress the source of her magic, her partners had a tendency to either be creeped out and want to put a quick end to things or they thought they'd be getting sex whenever they wanted like a 24/7 porn film.

It wasn't an overstatement to say that Sansa'd had lousy luck with romantic partners.

Almost as soon as her prepubescent body was awash in hormones, Sansa had been dreaming of falling in love with a gorgeous boy or girl who would give her flowers, take her out to dinner at the place for teenagers to be seen in Wintertown, and basically give her the fantasy of every teen romantic movie.

Then she’d turned sixteen and the urges started. At first, she’d dismissed them as the normal hormonal surges of a teenage girl. That had been before she climbed on top of Cley Cerwyn in the back of his new-used car and fucked him silly. That, while a lapse in judgment, in itself wouldn’t have been a problem. But he’d been passively-aggressively treating her like shit at dinner for going to a Model UN meeting instead of his hockey game, so when Sansa felt her body become downright electrified in the car, she’d lashed out at him with that power.

Having your first sexual encounter become a police matter and too much of the details known by your parents had been pretty awkward. At least she hadn’t killed him? Anyways. School had been downright unbearable after that, with Cley and his hockey buddies making sure she became a pariah. Robb had graduated the year before so he couldn't be there to threaten his former teammates into keeping their mouths shut.

What had followed was months of therapy to help her acclimate to the idea of being a witch that fed off of sexual energy. Frankly, Sansa thought her parents could have used those therapy sessions more than she did. Her father was a werewolf, as were three of her siblings. Only she and Bran took after their mother, a witch who drew her power from the water. None of them really understood Sansa.

But. Here she was in Oldtown, studying Westerosi History Before 500. Every so often she tried the relationship thing and got laid, using the energy for her magic. Which wasn't to say she had completely accepted this part of herself- that was a work in progress.

“Are you sure this is the approach you want to take?” Brienne asked her, concern etched into her forehead as she reached out to place a hand on Sansa's forearm. “Just because you ran into a few bad apples doesn't mean you should give up on the kind of love story you want.”

Before Sansa could reply, Margaery interjected: “To be fair, that's easy for you to say- you're mated to a lion-shifter who probably kisses the very ground you walk upon.”

This was a fair description- for all he was cynical and sarcastic, Jaime Lannister had never made any bones about how much he adored the human woman who was taller than he, wore her platinum hair short, and who faithfully clung to old-fashioned principles that he claimed to eschew. Yes, they sniped back and forth at one other, but Sansa shipped it. Hard.

Missandei exhaled before playing devil's advocate. “She has a point. I mean, besides Sansa, we're all getting frequent orgasms. Marg and Randa have a rotation of men-”

“-and a few women,” Margaery made sure to add.

“-and then there's you and I, who get quote, dicked on the regular, unquote.” She had a faraway look in her brown eyes. “Though to be fair, I'm lucky to have found a man who doesn't lead with his dick, but rather his mouth and fingers.”

Margaery's eyes flashed with interest. “Oooh, I feel like there's a fingerbanging story in there somewhere.”

“Does Grey excel at Sothoryosi kisses?” Myranda's eyebrows wraggled.

Sansa, however, was entirely absorbed in her abject envy. “Gods I do want that so bad. But Harry never even made me come.”

All cross-conversation screeched to a halt at the table. Sansa could've sworn the two middle-aged women at the next table were listening intently.

“WHAT?” Myranda and Missandei exclaimed.

“At all?” Margaery asked, brows furrowed as she tried to understand that concept.

Sansa shrugged. “Me rubbing my clit while doing all the work on top of him doesn't count.”

“That sheep's dung!” Brienne cursed.

“Look, in a perfect world I'd find someone who likes my bossiness, who wants to go on bookstore dates, and also eat me out at least twice a week, but this isn't a perfect world. So I thought you could give me some pointers and tomorrow night we could go out clubbing...why are you shaking your head at me like that?” she asked Missandei.

“My sweet girl, it's the tenth century. Modern women don't go to clubs to get laid, unless they're kink clubs, they-”

“And how would you know about kink clubs, Missy?” Margaery asked, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes.

Sansa resolutely ignored the interruption. “Who cares? Tell me, where do modern women go? I'll try anything.”

“I doubt you could understand the intricacies of rope-play or upending gender norms during sex, Margie.” Missandei took a slow sip of her wine.

“Is this a reference to pegging? Because I've drilled men up the ass, okay?” Margaery announced, her voice increasing in pitch towards the end of that sentence. Yep, the middle-aged ladies and the two men at the next table were definitely listening to them now.

Sansa felt the conversation getting away from her. Desperately, she tried tapping Missandei's arm to get her attention. “Missandei. Miss- just tell me-”

A snort came from Brienne. “Jaime practically handed me a strap-on harness our first time. That's nothing. You?” She turned to Myranda who nodded.

“Bitches, please. Do you have any idea how much money I've made off of men's intrinsic need to have their asses owned? So much, that's what.”

“TELL ME WHERE I CAN GET LAID!” Sansa all but screeched, causing conversation in the bar to come to a grinding halt. She gulped, cheeks flaming as all eyes swung to her. If there ever was a moment for the floor to open up and swallow her- this was it.

“Well, not here after that outburst, I can tell you.” Margaery pointed out, grinning at her friend's humiliation. Sansa gave her a withering glare.

“Anyways, as I was saying,” Missandei rolled her eyes, turning back to Sansa, “you're not going to find what you want by grinding into the crotch of some sweaty freshman. What you need is to get on Tinder.”

“Tinder.” Sansa repeated dumbly.

“It's an app you download on your phone-” Myranda tried to explain.

“I know what Tinder is. But...I mean...isn't it full of gross guys sending you dick pics?”

[to be continued in some manner, shape, or form]

[mushroomfen]

Emergency Contact- Fenders

So I finally wrote some Fenders~ the glowy children are all that's on my mind lately and I needed to get it out in a little modern AU. I will definitely be writing more of these two! ~

“Bloody hell-” The barely coherent grumble came from the mass of blankets on the bed. He couldn’t have been asleep for more the two hours after coming home at 4am, and already his phone was ringing. A mass of blonde hair that fell out of his bun when he collapsed into the bed now hung in his face as he emerged, squinting at the dawn light filtering in through the curtained window, “Who the hell is calling me at this hour?”

Grabbing the phone, Anders recognizes the number as the hospital, and he immediately frowns, assuming he was going to get called in to cover for a shift. He tries to make his voice professional and chipper, but the grogginess was obvious when he answered after the chirp that told him the line was connected, “Hello?”

The frown deepens immensely when the voice on the other line was most definitely not his boss. It was one of the ER nurses who doubled as a receptionist, and she sounded too formal, too… wary for his liking, “Oh, it’s you Anders… I um, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”

“What do you mean Merrill?” Anders practically whispers, gut churning with dread already, “What’s going on?”

“I’m so sorry Anders, but it’s... it’s Fenris. He’s been in an accident-” Anders' heart sank the second he heard that name, but before Merrill could finish he was shooting out of bed again and cutting her off.

“What happened? How bad? What are his vitals? What’re his injuries? Where is he?” He was shooting questions faster than the flustered nurse could even dream of answering, and Anders knew it, but he couldn’t help himself, “Just-I’m on my way.”

“Anders wai-” Merrill was cut off by the click that ended the call and Anders hastily shoving the phone in his pocket. He’s pulling on the sweatshirt he grabbed, shivering on the short walk to his car in the snow. He was still in his scrubs, and as much as he loved those things, they did not insulate well, and the sweatshirt was in no way a winter coat.

“Fucking asshole-fucking getting in to an accident-fucking making me worry-” Anders was spewing a litany of curses that would shame even Isabela as he got into his car and drove off, speeding as much as he dared to get back to the hospital.

Hawke’s cheerful, albeit half yawned, greeting when Anders bumbled into the ER waiting room came grinding to a halt when he saw Anders’ frantic and worried eyes. The blonde went straight up to the double doors, grabbing the nurse that came out to show his ID and then practically beg to know where Fenris was.

“U-um Sir, I’m not sure-” The nurse tries to squeak out, recognizing a worried family member before a nurse.

“Anders, my name is Anders, just-Listen, I work here, I’m a nurse, I need to know where Fenris is.” He tries again, a bit more composed but still desperate.

“I’m sorry Anders but I don’t know.” The nurse tries again, gently placing their hands on his arms to try and calm him down.

“He has white hair, green eyes, about five-ten, with white tattoos all over his arms, hands, neck and chest, I /need/ to know.” Anders whispers, voice close to breaking, and he sees the flash of recognition in the other’s eyes, “At least tell me how bad he looked.”

“I, someone with short white hair came in on a stretcher… I couldn’t really tell much but from what I could see, he had some bandages around his head and on his cheek, and one of his legs was elevated. He was covered by a sheet though, so I don’t know what else.”

Anders could only nod as dread filled his chest, “Where was he taken? Into surgery?”

“Ah, I believe so, they didn’t seem very frantic though so I can only assume it wasn’t life threatening-listen Anders, how about you come with me and sit for a bit okay? There’s nothing you can do right now-holy hell you’re freezing, go sit down and I’ll get you a blanket-”

“It’s alright, I’ll take it from here.” Hawke’s deep voice came up from behind Anders, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him back into his warm chest, “Go back to work, I know him, it’s okay.” Hawke murmurs reassuringly, and the nurse rushes off, “What’s wrong Anders?”

“It’s Fenris, he’s been in an accident.” Anders rushes out, letting Hawke lead him to a chair and then grab his own coat from behind the receptionist desk to wrap Anders in it.

“Well I checked, and he is in surgery, but just as the nurse said, it’s not life threatening.” Hawke murmurs as he takes the seat beside the blonde, “But, I also checked and noticed you only just got off your eighteen-hour shift three hours ago, you need sleep.”

“But what if-” Anders tries to argue, only to get cut off by Hawke shaking his head.

“No buts, your worrying isn’t going to do anyone any good. I’ll let you know the second he gets out and the second you can go in to see him, but right now you need to sleep.”

“Anders!” The high-pitched squeak announces Merrill’s arrival in the room, and she scurries over quickly to him, “You came-”

“How is he?!” Anders snaps instantly, worry flaring once again only to get a small smile from Merrill.

“Fenris will be just fine Anders, you do not need to worry.”

“But what are his injuries?! What happened?!” Anders tries again, hating how everyone was just skirting around the questions, “I need to know!”

“Anders,” Hawke murmurs quietly, resting his arm over his shoulders again, “He’ll be fine, Fenris is tough.”

“His car got T-boned in an intersection, and he has some serious injuries, but nothing life threatening, Anders. He’ll be fine.” Merrill chips in, her voice much quieter until Hawke shoos her away to get back to work. Anders was silenced at her words though, mind flooded with what could’ve happened, what he could find when he sees Fenris, what Fenris will do when he finds Anders there...

“-ders… Anders!” Jerking back into reality at Hawke shaking his shoulders, he turns his haunted look into Hawke’s calm brown gaze, “Calm down, he’ll be okay. You need to sleep.”

“I’m not sure if I can.” Anders finally relents, and Hawke tuts quietly.

“At least try, close your eyes, lay down, and relax. I’ll wake you when I have any news.”

~

“Anders, hey, hey Anders.” Groaning softly, the blonde opens his eyes and blearily rubs at one of them. He’s in confused bliss for a moment before everything comes crashing down again and he remembers, sitting bolt upright again, “He’s out of surgery.”

Hawke’s words make Anders scramble to his feet, grabbing his arm and stabilizing himself, “Take me, I need to see him, bring me to his room, please.”

“It’s alright Anders, I’ll take you. He’s still asleep now but the anesthesia should wear off soon.”

“That’s fine, just please let me see him.” Anders is begging again at this point, and without another word, Hawke leads him through the doors and through the maze of halls until he stops just outside the door.

“Merill is in with him now, but she’ll move on soon. We won’t have to have another nurse in here if you’re there, hmm?” With that, and with a small knowing smile, Hawke opens the door to the room.

Stumbling forward, Anders quickly finds himself at Fenris’ bedside, his white hair a mess and slightly stained with blood, bandaging wrapped around his forehead with red pooled at his left temple. There's bandaging down his right cheek, jaw, and neck as well, which Merrill supplies that it was from the driver’s window shattering and the glass dealing minor cuts to his face. Fenris’ chest was covered by the blanket, but Merrill assured him that there was only the bruising of the seatbelt there. The main thing though, the reason he was in the surgery room, was that his left leg had a shattered fibula and broken tibia. They had to set both bones, and Fenris now had a massive white cast from his toes up to just under his knee.

“I told you, he’s tough.” Merrill murmurs as she pats Anders’ shoulder, “I’ll leave you be with him then, but, take it easy on him when he wakes up. It’s only been a month.” Merrill smiles sadly, but knowingly, and slips out the door.

With a quiet sigh, Anders maneuvers his way to sit in the chair by the bed, set at ease by the steady beep that told him Fenris’ heart was still beating strong and steady. It’s okay, he’s okay, he’s safe… Anders’ body shudders as he lets himself relax finally, and he slips a hand delicately into Fenris’, lacing their fingers together. Frowning when he feels the coldness of metal, he looks down and finds the slim ring still firmly fastened around Fenris’ pinkie.

“You kept it…” He murmurs quietly, smiling in awe down at the simple little band. Anders almost expected Fenris to at least take it off, if not get rid of it completely after what happened. Anders’ other hand comes up, rubbing his thumb over the small band carefully, still smiling down at it.

“Of course I did…” The quiet, groggy, but deep voice makes Anders startle and look up, blinking owlishly up at Fenris. His eyes were only cracked open ever so slightly, “Anders? Is that you?” Anders can only stay silent as Fenris opens his eyes completely, answering his own question as he takes in Anders’ disheveled appearance, “You came…”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Anders whispers, hearing his voice crack slightly with emotion when he hears how surprised Fenris seemed that he would in fact come.

“I just… After what happened, no…” Fenris sighs quietly, and he looks down, and Anders watches as his eyes widen on their entwined hands, “I guess… I expected you to never want to see me again… after what I did to you.”

“Oh, Fen…” Anders whines quietly, squeezing the other’s hand tightly in his own, “I could never just abandon you… I… no…”

“But I hurt you.” Fenris murmurs, turning to look at him and seemingly waking up fully and becoming more coherent, “I… I said horrible things, I ran from you… how could you ever forgive me?”

“Because I still love you Fenris.” Anders blurts, then blinks and ducks his head, biting his lip as he feels his chin tremble, “I got the call and I came immediately, I had to make sure you were alright.”

“You got the call? What do you mean?” Fenris murmurs in confusion, “I never called you…”

“You must’ve kept me as your emergency contact… I got the call from the hospital.” Anders murmurs quietly, still keeping his eyes down and away.

“Good.” Furrowing his brows, Anders could’ve sworn he heard that wrong, but then he feels Fenris’ hand tighten in his, and then turns to watch as his hand is brought up to Fenris’ lips and kissed gently, “If I were to wake up to anyone after an accident, I’m more than happy it was you.”

“But you, you said you-”

“No,” Fenris quiets his babbling with a shake of his head, “I was scared, and it is no excuse, but what I did and what I said to you was wrong, and I will not ask your forgiveness as I do not deserve it. But just know…” he pauses again and kisses Anders’s knuckles, “Just know that I was only scared of commitment, I was scared that you didn’t love me… Selfish I know, but I felt that it was best if I left… I know now that it was wrong and I would do anything to take back what I said and how I hurt you.”

“Fenris… what are you saying?” Anders whispers, unable to stop the gentle tears that he hastily wipes away with his free hand.

“I’m saying I was wrong, I’m saying that I love you, and I’m saying that for the past month my life has been hell and…” He pauses again, sighs, and reaches out to wipe a tear from Anders’ cheek, “Nothing could be worse than the thought of living without you.”

Anders couldn’t help it any longer, too much emotion pent up and after hearing that, after the past month of loneliness, after the overwhelming worry and then relief, he couldn’t hold it back. In the next instant, he was on his feet, moving closer and laying a gentle hand on Fenris’ good cheek. Leaning down, he kisses him, soft and sweet, a silent promise of forgiveness.

“Does this mean...?” Fenris rumbles quietly against Anders’ lips, voice filled with hope.

“It means that I will be yours again, if you will have me.” Anders whispers breathlessly, leaning back to gently press his forehead to the other’s.

“Then I am yours.” Fenris murmurs, reaching up to pull Anders back down for another kiss.

In the doorway of the room, Hawke stands with a beaming smile, hand pressed over Merrill’s mouth to muffle her squeal.