#going through all the trouble of washing it. then using a single leaf.

[sol-flo]

i dont miss the city i used to live in the slightest however i had not one but two great wrap places nearby and i get some real intense cravings. that delicious and inexpensive falafel wrap could fix me real good

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 29: Oliver's Welcome

Masterlist

September 1925

TW: captivity, mind control

Oliver stood in Lord Alexander's foyer, trembling like a leaf, holding his box of worldly possessions. The only thing preventing him from keeling over entirely was Miss Lily's ingrained conditioning to not resist and to be a good thrall. Fainting would be neither of these. He wanted to make a good impression. He was getting dangerously lightheaded regardless.

"Okay, you look like you need to sit down. You've been through a lot," said Lord Alexander. Oliver was washed with relief that at least his new master was treating him with mercy as he was whisked through a door into a darkened room.

A gas lamp flickered to life, revealing a startlingly ordinary kitchen. It was spotless, as though it were hardly used. There was an icebox and a stove with a bright metal kettle, and a knife block and a basket of fruit on the counter. A couple of white linen towels were hanging near the double sink. Lord Alexander led him to a small round table with a few wooden chairs, and sat him down. 

Oliver felt as if he shouldn't be so surprised. Lord Alexander would have to have a kitchen, after all, to feed a human thrall such as himself. But when he entered a vampire's mansion, he hadn't expected a completely mundane kitchen to be the first thing he encountered past the foyer.

"Here. Drink." Lord Alexander set a tall glass of water in front of him and sat down himself. "Try and compose yourself, if you can. I realize this isn't the best situation for you, but I assure you I'm not going to harm you."

Oliver nodded weakly, grateful for any reassurance, as he gulped down water. The fear was still strong, but at least Lord Alexander wasn't being cruel to him. "Thank you very much, sir."

"No trouble," he said. "This kitchen is more or less yours. I expect you to prepare your own food and to clean up after yourself. I can and will procure any groceries you need and alter the milkman's delivery schedule to fit your tastes. I don't intend to otherwise concern myself with what you eat as long as you do it."

"Yes, sir," he said, the most relieved he'd been since arriving. The implications in what Lord Alexander was telling him weren't lost on him. If the kitchen was his, he likely wouldn't be chained up or confined to a single room. Having free reign over what he cooked and ate implied a certain amount of autonomy. If Lord Alexander intended to leave him to his own devices much of the time... he took a deep breath and relaxed, just a little.

He looked up, and Lord Alexander's eyes were examining him as though he were a specimen on a slide, and the strange mixture of nerves and rapture that he'd experienced at the auction house washed over him. He was in a vampire's house, at a vampire's mercy. He gulped more water.

"If you're feeling more composed, I could show you to your room next."

Oliver took a deep breath. "Yes, sir, I would like to see it." Based on the rest of the house so far, he knew intellectually that it was likely to be an ordinary bedroom, but his head still swam with the worst possibilities. A dank and filthy cell in the basement like in pulp horror novels, crawling with rats... He pushed it out of his mind, standing up and taking his box. He was being irrational.

Lord Alexander led him out of the kitchen and up the stairs, picking up a lamp in the foyer and carrying it with him. At the very least, Oliver thought, he wasn't being stashed in the basement. They walked down a short hallway with blue wallpaper in a suffocating floral pattern and arrived at a door.

The first impression Oliver had of the bedroom was that it was enormous. It contained the largest bed he'd ever seen, done up in fine linens with at least a dozen assorted pillows, and there was still more than ample room left over. There were bookshelves, these only partially filled, as well as an imposing oak wardrobe in the corner and a few sets of drawers. An overstuffed, comfortable looking leather chair sat in the corner, with a matching ottoman. Surprisingly, there was also a wide window, albeit with thick velvet curtains blocking his view.

"Well? Is this acceptable?"

Oliver couldn't say no even if he wanted to, couldn't penetrate the fog in his mind to beg to be returned back to his cozy tiny bedroom with his pile of knitted blankets and lumpy armchair and the half-finished book on his nightstand. But barring the possibility of going home, this was more than acceptable. "Yes, sir, very much so."

"There's basic clothes in the wardrobe and drawers, both suitable for going out and for staying in," Lord Alexander explained (and oh, he was going to be allowed out sometimes, thank goodness). "If you have any needs, anything at all -- clothing, entertainment, education, supplies for hobbies and artistic pursuits -- let me know and I'll procure them for you. Money is little object. We will be living together, and I do not wish for you to be bored or miserable."

Oliver set his box on top of one of the dressers, and sat down on the edge of the bed. It was pleasantly soft and inviting beneath him. "That's very generous, sir," he said, his head swimming, overwhelmed with conflicting feelings about his new situation.

If it had been awful, if he'd been confined to a dungeon or chained to a wall, that might have made it easier, in a perverse way. He'd have every incentive to resist. Being trapped in a gilded cage like this... it reminded him of how Miss Lily had conditioned him. It was easier, he supposed, to trap a mind with pleasure than with fear and pain. If his life here was tolerable, good, even...

Maybe he really was well suited to being a vampire's thrall.

He felt the slip in his mind, another barrier crumbling. He'd lose himself for sure, staying here.  He knew it in his bones, and yet, there was so little he could do about it. He couldn't exactly ask Lord Alexander to treat him worse.

He thought once more of the myth of the lotus eaters, and shuddered.

"While I hope that you'll generally keep your room neat, there is a housekeeper who visits several times a week. He'll also handle laundry." Alexander looked uncomfortable, as though discussing laundry logistics were a way to distract from the awkward atmosphere.

"Is the housekeeper also a thrall, sir?" Oliver asked, feeling a pang as he realized what he'd said. Also a thrall.

"No, he's a fledgling vampire who can use the money. You're the only thrall here."

"I see, sir," he said quietly, looking at his feet, then back up at Lord Alexander. "Then I'll be the only one providing -- I mean, that is to say -- "

"Your blood?"

The atmosphere shifted. Alexander was still standing nonchalantly in the bedroom door, but Oliver could feel his eyes growing more intense, his own thoughts clouding in response. "Yes, my blood, sir."

"Well, yes. I will be drinking your blood on a regular basis. Not tonight, as you need a chance to settle, but... soon, yes."

Cold fear warred with strange desire within Oliver. Now that it was almost upon him, he couldn't help but quail at the idea of fangs sliding into his neck, drinking from him. But the way Lord Alexander was looking at him with sharp eyes and talking to him in a low, soothing voice... like he could listen all day... listen and obey... provide him with anything he desired...

They were alone, all alone in a vast mansion. There was no one to stop Alexander from taking what he wanted. Oliver shuddered at the thought, and it wasn't completely from fear this time.

"Why me, sir?" he said, trying to collect his thoughts and snap out of it a bit. "Why did you warn me, but then ultimately buy me?" It was one of the questions that had been burning in his mind ever since the auction.

"I bought you because I couldn't stand any other vampire, especially a vampire I hated, getting their hands on you. You would have been tortured and then destroyed if Jameson purchased you. Almost anything is better than that." said Lord Alexander. The shift in conversation topics lessened the weight of his gaze upon Oliver. "And as for the warning... I'm sorry, but it wasn't as altruistic as you might be thinking. I'm not sure you would like the answer."

"I want to know, sir."

"...Because I wanted you myself, but I wasn't prepared to take you," Lord Alexander admitted. "And sending you through the auction house risked your mind being stolen, not to mention the risk that you'd be bought by someone else. I was hoping you wouldn't end up there, that you'd remain in your little bookshop until... circumstances permitted."

"You... wanted me...?" said Oliver. "Even before?"

"Yes."

Oliver thought of Lord Alexander in his shop, leaning over the counter and asking questions about rare and interesting books. The entire time, he'd been... "What makes me worth all of that?"

"Your blood. But not only that. It's... many of your qualities," he said. "It's not something I expect a human to fully understand. But suffice to say that I doubt I'll regret what I paid."

Oliver swallowed hard, hands twisting in the bedcovers. That didn't explain anything, really. Why? He'd gone his entire life without being especially wanted. Oh, it wasn't as though he were despised or abused, but he had never been anyone's first choice, with no close friends and no romantic prospects. And now, he was wanted for this of all things, qualities he couldn't even define, appealing only to vampires. 

And what circumstances did Lord Alexander speak of? What was he concealing?

"We should finish up the little tour. Come on," said Lord Alexander, disappearing from the doorway, Oliver following.

"This will be your personal bathroom. Again, if there are particular toiletries needed, just request them. It's no trouble." He pushed the door open to show Oliver, and this time he was not surprised it was extravagant and well kept. There was a large bathtub with a shower, a pile of thick towels, and a basket of fancy soaps and other products he didn't recognize.

"The rest of the second floor consists mainly of extra guest rooms and a few storerooms for books. There is a sitting room down the second hallway that you might enjoy," said Lord Alexander. "My chambers are on the third floor, and that is off limits to you at this time. Otherwise, you may occupy and use whatever parts of the house you wish."

"Thank you, sir." The forbidden third floor was the first real restriction Oliver had been given so far, but he was pleased that he was being allowed mostly free reign of the house. That produced a burning question, one he'd wanted to ask but had been nervous about asking. "Sir, ah, may I ask -- what about leaving the house? Not to escape, of course!" he hastily clarified. "Nothing like that, sir! To get fresh air or visit a shop, for instance."

Lord Alexander was examining him carefully. "Not without my permission, and you do not have my permission yet."

Oliver's brows furrowed at his tone, something in him rising up and attempting to assert itself before drowning back under the waves of no desire to resist, only obey.

"Do you have something to say?" asked Lord Alexander.

He swallowed it. "No, sir."

"None of that. You're not going to be punished for speaking your mind. Say what you're going to say."

Oliver looked up. Well, if he explicitly wasn't being disobedient... "Well, sir... don't you find this strange? I'm a grown man, you knew me, you patronized my bookshop for years, and now you're telling me I'm not allowed to even go outside?" He clamped down his mouth as soon as he said it, fearful, flinching away from Lord Alexander. 

Lord Alexander didn't seem the least bit perturbed. "Yes, I'm not surprised that's what you're thinking. I'm not upset at you for saying so," he said. "But you should understand that I've kept thralls for decades. You're not the first and you won't be the last. Yes, I believe in treating humans well. I even enjoy human company, to a certain extent. But I'm a vampire lord, you are my thrall, and it is my right to impose what restrictions I may.  Is that clear?"

He felt fear all over again. Lord Alexander might very well be more merciful than some of the other vampires who could have bought him, but he was still a vampire, and Oliver was still trapped. "Yes, sir. I understand."

Perhaps it was just his imagination, but there was something sad in Lord Alexander's eyes. 

"I do understand, you know. It must chafe to not be allowed outside. But there's already a target on my back, and there will be a target on yours as well, if there isn't already -- thanks to the very public showing I had to make at the auction house. I don't make rules solely to be cruel or tyrannical." He pushed his hand through his hair. "When I'm not awake, feel free to open the windows and doors to get fresh air and sunshine, at least."

"I will, sir," he said.

"I hope... I hope you can find some happiness here despite it all. It would be good to..." He swallowed hard and looked away. "Let's continue on."

Part 28 >> Masterlist >> Part 30

Extra: Fitz's Waking Nightmare

I very much enjoyed writing the descriptions of Alexander's mansion.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @snakebites-and-ink @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs

[drabbles-mc]

Unfinished Business

Angel Reyes x Reader

Warnings: language, sex, oral sex

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I haven’t written smut in so long, but I’ve read so many good fics in the fandom that it inspired me to give it another shot. So, enjoy some dominant, angry Angel Reyes 🤤

It had been well over a week since you had spent any real quality time with Angel. You understood why he was busy—between the club and his family he hadn’t had more than a few spare minutes here and there to text you, or stop in quickly on his way home to say goodnight before taking off again. You weren’t mad about it, but you weren’t happy about it either.

But things were finally starting to calm back down for him. And yet, he had yet to reach out and ask to come over, or ask you to come and see him. You were patient and understanding but you were also needy. So you decided to take matters into your own hands. You knew that everyone was going to be at the clubhouse tonight, a miniature celebration of making it through a stressful couple of weeks, and you were going to make a guest appearance.

You leafed through your closet, deciding on a low-cut black tank top and a tight dark green mini-skirt. Angel loved it because it matched his bike, and you liked it because Angel’s pupils would double in size every time he saw you wear it. You slipped on a pair of black Converse and set off to do your hair and makeup.

You rolled into the scrapyard before the guys were back, which was exactly what you were hoping for. You parked your car, grabbed your purse, and made your way over to the clubhouse. It was sunny and silent, a very different vibe than what it was going to be in a couple hours when everyone was back home and ready to decompress.

Chucky was the only one to be seen when you strode in. He smiled and waved to you, “Hey, Y/N. No one is back yet.”

You smiled, nodding, “I know. I just got here early to take care of a few things. Plus, I can help you set up! What do you need me to do?”

He smiled, shaking his head, “I can’t ask you to do that. Angel would—”

“Angel isn’t here, is he?” you cut him off with a smile, “So, how can I help you, Chucky?”

He shifted on his feet, trying to figure out how to navigate these waters, “I need to go and get a liquor delivery. Can you stay here and keep an eye on the clubhouse for me? I should be back in less than an hour.”

You nodded, “You got it. Go do what you gotta do, Chucky.”

He gave a single nod, “You are the real Angel.”

You laughed to yourself as you watched him walk out of the clubhouse. You loved all of the guys, of course, but there was something so enjoyable about every exchange you had with Chucky. You never wanted to see him leave.

You took advantage of Chucky’s absence to set your plan in motion. You slipped off to the bathroom. It was tight quarters, which was the thing you hated most about the clubhouse, but you could make it work. You locked the door and set your phone up to record yourself. You set the phone on the one shelf in the bathroom that held a couple extra rolls of toilet paper, and then perched yourself up on the sink counter, feet resting on the closed toilet lid, making sure the camera got just enough of an upward angle to see clearly up your skirt. You dug around in your purse for a moment, smiling evilly to yourself as your fingers landed on your small bullet vibrator. You tossed your purse to the floor and hit the self-timer on your phone to start recording.

The bathroom and clubhouse were both silent. You smirked into the camera before making a show of slowly hiking up your skirt, exposing the small piece of pink fabric that was passing for your underwear. You turned on the vibrator, the sound seeming so loud against the silence of the small room that you were in.

You lowered it, lightly tracing it over the outside of your panties, gasping at the initial contact. Your body instinctively moved to grind against the vibrator, letting out a low moan. You knew you weren’t going to be able to hold out for very long—you hadn’t been touched by Angel or yourself in ten days and your body was screaming for a little bit of release.

You turned the intensity up on the vibrator, letting out a raspy, “Fuck,” as your body began to tremble. Your panties darkened and dampened from your arousal, and it was taking every last bit of self-control to not let yourself come right then. You bit down hard on your lip, “Mmm,” you threw your head back, “fuck, Angel, I miss you.”

It had only been a couple minutes but you knew you were going to have to tap out. You looked straight into the camera as you pulled your panties to the side, “Too bad I’ll have to cum without you,” you slid the vibrator inside of you and moaned loudly.

What started off as a tease for Angel vey quickly turned into some overdue relief for yourself. Between the feeling of you pumped the vibrator in and out, and the vibrations themselves, it was only a matter of moments before your eyes were rolling back in anticipation of your orgasm. You fought the urge to scream as your core tightened, legs locking up as your body finally got a sweet sense of release. You felt light-headed as you turned the vibrator off, trying to catch your breath as you slowly pulled it out of you.

You looked back into the camera, repositioning your underwear and sliding the vibrator in and out of your mouth, tasting yourself. You leaned forward with a satisfied smirk, “I’ll see you soon, Amor,” stopping the video.

Before watching it and sending it, you wanted to straighten yourself out first. You hopped down, fixing your skirt and checking to make sure your hair and makeup were still okay. You washed off your vibrator, putting it back in your purse with a chuckle. You grabbed your phone and left the bathroom, no one would ever know you were in there.

You took a seat at the bar, and after a quick rewatch of the video to make sure he would be able to hear you, you set about sending a text to Angel. Your fingers flew across the keyboard, “Since you haven’t been around to take care of business, I had to do it myself xo” you attached the video and sent it on its way. Your whole body was trembling for more than one reason now as you anxiously awaited an answer.

About five minutes later your phone buzzed, a notification for a text from Angel appeared on your screen. Your hands shook as you opened it, wondering what you were getting yourself into, “Better make sure those panties are off by the time I get home if you want me to fucking take care of business”

You let out a shudder, but didn’t respond to him. It’d be more fun this way. In the meantime, Chucky returned and the two of you got the place set up for everyone’s return. There wasn’t a whole lot to be done, but between the two of them it all got finished rather quickly.

Another hour or so ticked by, and more people had filtered in to be part of the action once everyone was home again. The music was on and people were already drinking, but you were scrolling through your phone when you heard the deafening sounds of the whole club arriving back at the clubhouse. You tossed your phone in your purse, placing the bag behind the bar where it wouldn’t get lost in the shuffle. You stood up, straightening yourself out before the guys all walked in.

Everyone was all smiles as they crossed the threshold of the clubhouse. You greeted all of them with smiles and hugs. You had caught Angel lingering at the back of the pack and you were wondering if that was calculated or not.

You stepped over to him to give him a hug and a kiss, but didn’t even get the chance. He spun you around and began firmly guiding you across the expanse of the clubhouse, “Bathroom, now,” he growled. Your whole body felt like it was on fire just from those two words.

He pushed you into the small room, closing and locking the door behind the both of you. You laughed, “Not even a hello?”

“Yea, you think you’re real fuckin’ funny, don’t you?” he backed you up against the sink counter. He had at least a foot on you, a height gap you usually tried to close with heels. You craned your neck back to look him in the eye. His expression read as angry but you could see the look in his eyes—he had been fighting the urge to take you right in the middle of the clubhouse. His hand crept around your throat and he applied the slightest bit of pressure, “You think I can’t take care of you?”

Your knees were already weak, but you weren’t going to give in that easily, “You certainly haven’t been.”

His grip on your neck tightened, “Better watch that fuckin’ mouth, Y/N, it’s gonna get you in trouble.”

“What’re you gonna do?” you smirked at him, loving every second of this game.

He let go of your neck, using both hands to yank your skirt up and heft you up onto the counter. The speed and ease with which he was able to toss you around never ceased to amaze you, and turn you on. His hands strayed down to your now-exposed hips. His fingers wrapped around the thin fabric of your underwear. “What’d I say about these?” he leaned in and growled into your ear.

Before you could respond he ripped them off, tossing them to the side, causing you to gasp. You reached for his belt but he grabbed your wrists, able to hold them both tightly with one hand. He leaned in, taking in your scent as his other hand cupped your face. The feeling of his beard against your neck made you break out in goosebumps. He kissed and sucked on your earlobe for a moment before asking, “You want me to take care of you, Princesa?”

You knew you were in for it when he started calling you that—that pet name was reserved for when you were being especially bratty. “Yes,” your voice was barely above a whisper.

Without another word he dropped to his knees, pulling you close to him by your hips. You braced yourself on the counter, whimpering in anticipation. His breath was warm against your thighs and core. You gripped his shoulders, pushing him into you. He let out what you assumed was a laugh as he pressed his tongue and lips against you. You moaned, nails digging into him as his tongue repeatedly went over your clit.

“Make me cum, Angel,” you begged.

He reached up, sliding two fingers into your mouth. You moaned, wetting them for him. He brought his hand back down, sliding his fingers in and out of you as his tongue continued to work you over. Your cries grew louder, and there was no doubt that the clubhouse was hearing you call his name, and Angel loved it. He slowly rose to his feet, still pumping his fingers into you. He pressed his lips hard onto yours, stifling your moans with a kiss for a moment before straying to your neck and leaving marks there for the rest of the world to see.

“Cum for me,” it was an order, and one that you were happy to oblige to. You gripped the back of his head, pulling his lips to yours in a heated kiss as you came.

“I love you, Angel,” you were trying to catch your breath still.

“Mmm, I love you too, Y/N, but we’re not done yet.”

“You said you wanted me to take care of business,” his hand was back at your throat, “We’re only halfway there. You still gotta pay up for that little stunt earlier, you know.”

He let go of your neck, guiding your hands to his belt buckle. You were still seated on the counter, hands shaky from everything you just experienced. You fumbled for a moment but were able to get the belt undone. You also undid the button and zipper on his jeans, nearly salivating as you tugged them down slightly. You lightly traced his erection through his boxers, causing him to gasp.

He pulled you off of the counter and spun you around so you were bent over it instead. He leaned close to your ear, “Enough teasing from you.”

You heard the sound of his jeans and boxers hitting the floor around his ankles. He lightly traced his fingers between your legs, your pussy still dripping. He let out a low chuckle as he lined himself up at your entrance. Your breathing wavered in anticipation. He slowly started to push into you, both of you letting out moans of pleasure.

He started thrusting into you slowly, pulling out almost all the way before filling you up again. You could hear him cursing under his breath about how good you felt, and it made your knees weak. The slow pace was torturous but you loved it.

Then, just as you were adjusting to the pace, he slammed into you. You yelped in surprise and he quickly wrapped a hand around your throat, applying pressure. “This is what you wanted, right?” he grunted as he continued fucking you over the counter, “Isn’t that right, Princesa? You wanted me to come home and take care of business?”

He let go of your throat and you coughed, trying to catch your breath. You were lightheaded from a mixture of the overstimulation of him fucking you and also the lack of blood that was getting to your brain while his hand was around your neck. Your hands gripped the edges of the counter as his fingertips dug into your hips, pulling you back against him over and over. His hold on you was the only thing keeping you from collapsing to the floor.

He smacked your ass, “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” it was half-whisper, half-moan.

“Fuck, Y/N,” his voice was raspy, “You’re gonna make me cum.”

You felt his grip tighten even more as he continued to pound you. He let out a moan as he came inside you, making your knees finally give way. He was able to brace and keep you somewhat upright. He let out a chuckle as he pulled out of you, lifting you so that your back was pressed flush against his chest. You sank back against him with a shaky sigh.

“Is ten days too long, Y/N?” he whispered in your ear. All you could do was nod in response, earning another laugh from him. He spun you around and kissed you hard on the lips before letting go of you and pulling his pants back up. He slowly slid his hand up your thigh and between your legs, “Better clean yourself up, Amor. We still have a party to go to.”

[jademakean]

𝐒𝐰𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐲

Timothee Chalamet x Reader

1976

｡･:*:･ﾟ

You had been waiting for Timmy for a couple of minutes now;

Sitting on a fallen tree as the sun warmed you up through the tall trees, accomplishing to do so on some parts of your exposed skin.

The green leaf resting between your fingers was now the center of attention.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a hand brushing back your hair into a braid. "Timmy, I told you I don't like to swim with my hair tied." You smile softly knowing full well it was him.

"But I want to see your face and it's hard to do that when there's soaked hair all over it." he chuckles making you grin.

You cautiously stand up as he finishes the braid, running your hands through the flowy dress. "Why are you fixing your dress if you're about to take it off." He teases earning an roll eye-roll from you. He's right. "Are you done with the braid yet?"

"I don't know, see for yourself."

You feel for the end of the braid and smile "Thank you, Timmy." "You're welcome."

He tugs at your dress after he takes his shirt off "You're wearing too many layers" he grins cutely.

You do as he says and takes off your dress, leaving your body in plain white bikini.

Timothée grabs your hand and leads you to the private portion of the lake of the cottage he invited you to.

You have been here for 2 weeks and we're planning on staying most of the summer here, which you were so grateful for his parents to allow.

He lifts some of the sticks coming out of the tree trunks, as you finally reach your destination.

He immediately untangles your hands away from each other and jumps in the surprising deep blue water.

You couldn't help but laugh lightly at his eagerness to be engulfed by water.

You place the green leaf on the ground by the lake and let your body slowly disappear into the blue abyss.

The happily spirited boy emerges from the water looking around for his friend before spotting her.

He patiently waited for you to get used to the water temperature, due to your skin being warmed by the sun moments before.

Once Timothee noticed you were seconds before being fully in, he swam gracefully towards you.

You look up to see Timmy in front of you smiling happily. The boy gently grabs your hand pulling you through the lake.

"What are you so toothy about." You giggle.

He looks at you before responding "It's nice to just swim around freely, no worries to think about with my best friend." He beams

You felt yourself hesitate slightly in thought, he seemed to notice the sudden tension but before he could comment on it, your words interrupted.

"I've actually been slightly worried about something," you admit

A concerned expression washed through his features and you couldn't blame him. In his mind, everything has been blissful and effortless throughout these two weeks and you had acted on it. But with that sentence, he began searching for reasoning to what had made her uneasy, mostly because she had seemed happy until now. He couldn't help but feel as though he did something wrong. And that is exactly what he asked.

"What, no. I have been happy and you didn't do anything wrong, don't worry." she sighed "But my emotions have been troubling me, though at first, I thought it was just some confusion, I now know clearly how my feelings have changed."

He is now completely and utterly confused though he tries not to show it "And-- how have your feelings changed?"You took a deep inhale. Whatever happens, happens. You know that Timothée won't judge you for anything, that's why you appreciate being close to him that much more.

"I like you, and not in the friendly kind of way. I know you might not feel the same way towards me but I had to let it out, I hope this doesn't change our friendship."

Timothée's face contorts into one of surprise, not expecting those words to ever come out of your mouth.

"Well this is going to change our friendship."

You felt your heart almost skip a beat as he said.

"I like you too."

I had now been through an emotional rollercoaster but fortunately it had stopped on a relieving feeling. He looked at you with an expressionless face, the same as yours as you studied him properly this once.

Even if you had known him since seventh grade six and seen his face millions of times before; this one single time seemed different.

He looked ambrosial, his semi-wet hair was dripping droplets of water onto his eyebrows to his thick lashes, down the side of his nose, over the corner of his plump lips, disappearing into his mouth.

You looked back at his eyes, now noticing the cold middle finger grazing against your own lips before pressing down lightly.

Green focused the plumpness before connecting to your own eyes.

Though it seemed merely a dream reality came back to you as you felt his lips connect your soft ones.

Giving in almost immediately, you held onto his shoulders for balance as his hands held onto the sides of your neck for better control.

It was pure bliss.

Your heated breaths intertwining as you moved almost in sink. It was now known that you were both longing for this moment to take place.

You separated from your much-needed kiss and looked into each other's eyes. Within a few moments he spoke up "So this is how it feels to kiss a best friend."

Seconds passed and after your brain registered his words, you couldn't help but burst out laughing

"Is that really what you're going to say after we kissed?" you ask after calming down

He soon realized his mistake and felt his face heat up "I mean I'm a little flabbergasted. You know how I act when I don't know what to do." He tries to reason.

You did know, he would always start spewing out unnecessary comments or observations when he was nervous. It was a reflex that he didn't know how to control. You were aware that wasn't what was exactly what was on his mind. "sorry it came out wrong," he apologized giving you a goofy smile

"I know Timmy." I smile constantly before swimming back to shore

"what-- where are you going?"

You get out of the water taking your hair out of the braid it was kept in, ruffling it a bit so it was able to dry quickly. "I'm heading back."

He gives give you a weird facial expression "But we just got here a couple of minutes ago."

"I'm hungry." He laughs lightly before getting out of the water

"I got wet for no reason."

"Hey, we could bring food here instead, and spend the whole day swimming if you'd like." I offer, which he by his face expression approves.

I pick up the small leaf I held earlier and place it behind my ear.

"Sorry mention but aren't you usually supposed to put flowers behind your ear, not, ya know, leaves?" He asks amused.

I give him a slight glare "It's not supposed to be for show."

He nudges me lightly with a small smile on his lips "I'm saving it. As something to remember today, I'm going to tape it to my notebook." I state a little embarrassed.

He looks at me with a bright smile before embracing me into a big bear hug

After all, it is a nice memory to have.

[selfless1978]

UNSTOPPABLE

Vicky walked into the lair, her eyes bright and a bounce in her step. He hidden secret had been exposed, and Leo was still firmly by her side. She hadn’t known how much keeping this secret from him had actually weighed her down.

“Hello, Master Splinter!” She greeted him cheerfully as she headed towards the kitchen. Placing the bag of groceries down on the counter. She frowned as she went unanswered. Usually he was quick to respond to her greetings, but not this time. She took off the backpack she had been carrying. It’s contents something she had really wanted to show her lover now that he knew. 

“Master Splinter?” She went looking for the rat dad, and found him by the radio. Listening to the frantic calls between the brothers. “What’s going on?”

“They are out on patrol, my dear.” He still didn’t look from the radio, his tail twitching in agitation. “There appears to be trouble with the Purple Dragons tonight.”

‘Raph!’ Vicky’s attention immediately focused in on the radio. That was Leo’s voice and even she could hear the tense stress in it. ‘Mikey is down! Cover him!’

‘I’m trying! Can’t break through these clowns!’

‘Donnie?’ 

‘A little busy!’ 

There was more, but it was tuned out as her eyes narrowed. “This doesn’t sound like a normal skirmish.”

“It isn’t.” Splinter confirmed. “They stumbled over a major operation. It’s proving- Where are you going?”

Vicky had already snatched a spare radio and a small tracking device and turned from him, determination in her eyes as she strode with a purpose towards her bag. “To help.”

“Vicky, I can not and will not condone this! It is far to dangerous!”

The tall brunette snatched up her bag, opening it even as she turned to face Splinter. “All due respect, Master Splinter, but I’m not one of your sons. I’m going.” She yanked out what she had in the bag and began changing even as she stomped towards the garage.

Leaving a dumbfounded and frustrated rat behind.

All smiles, I know what it takes to fool this town I'll do it 'til the sun goes down and all through the night time Oh yeah Oh yeah, I'll tell you what you wanna hear Leave my sunglasses on while I shed a tear It's never the right time

She threw the bag to the side as she walked determinedly on. The clothes now sliding over her skin were old companions. And the unconventional belt clasp around her waist was an old friend. She was just as comfortable in this get up as she was in normal street clothes. The final touch was braiding her long hair to keep it out of her face.

Yeah, yeahI put my armor on, show you how strong how I am I put my armor on, I'll show you that I am

Mere moments later the motorcycle flared to life and she put the red helmet on. She hoped Raph wouldn’t mind...too much. Her now booted, not her usual sneakers, foot stayed planted firmly on the ground as the bike spun around. Smoke coming up from the hard surface wafted up around the black cargo pants she wore before the bike leaped forward. 

She leaned over the bike as she raced towards the exit. The black skin tight swear she wore offering no resistance against the wind as he long braid flew behind her. At her hips, something that had been very meticulously crafted for her, and something she would need.

I'm unstoppable I'm a Porsche with no brakes I'm invincible Yeah, I win every single game

The borrowed Ducati shot out of the tunnel, popping a wheelie before it roared out into the night. She pushed the bike on to faster speeds and easily weaved through the traffic.

I'm so powerful I don't need batteries to play I'm so confident

With her secret revealed, there wasn’t the slightest bit of hesitation in her. She knew this life, she welcomed this life. She was comfortable with this life. 

Leo had been there through so much with her, all of her hurt and pain had been eased at his hands. Now it was her turn to show her love and dedication.

Yeah, I'm unstoppable today Unstoppable today Unstoppable today Unstoppable today I'm unstoppable today

“Leo! We’re surrounded!” Donnie snapped out, even as he finally was able to get to his brother. Mikey was groaning and holding the back of his head, dazed, but he seemed otherwise to be alright.

Their predicament was anything but.

“What’s the matter, freaks?” Hun grinned maliciously as he walked up, knuckles cracking in his large beefcake hands. “Thought I wouldn’t expect you this time?”

“Your tactics are becoming pathetically predictable.” Stockman grinned from the side. “My genius was easily able to predict your arrival.”

“Oh, shut up.” Raph rolled his eyes. “Even idiots get a lucky break.”

“Idiot!?” Stockman flared. “I’ll have you know my IQ is-”

“Nobody cares!” All the turtles chimed together.

Stockman huffed as Leo frantically tried to find a way out of the situation. These two had obviously been well prepared. Blue eyes searched for some kind of opening in the mass of bodies around them.

Then he blinked in surprise. On the far side, rapidly approaching from behind the crowd, a figure was crouched low over a bike. Bright red helmet clear to see.

“Is that....my bike?” Raph also looked a bit dumbfounded. “That’s my bike! Who stole my bike!?”

Leo began to develop a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Oh no....”

Break down, only alone I will cry on out You'll never see what's hiding out Hiding out deep down

The bike didn’t make any move to slow down. The rider waited until literally the last moment before launching herself high into the air. The bike smashed hard into the crowd, taking out a fair amount of bodies. 

Yeah, yeah I know, I've heard that to let your feelings go Is the only way to make friendships grow But I'm too afraid now Yeah, yeah

The helmet came off of the figure in midair. Vicky’s glare washed over the group of baddies before she easily landed, the helmet in her hand her first weapon as she swung it around her, knocking the closest circle out before she almost viscously chucked it at Hun’s head. She watched impassively as it bounced off of his thick skull, cracking in half.

I put my armor on, show you how strong how I am I put my armor on, I'll show you that I am

Now she stood tall and fearless in the middle of the crowd, her hands going to the curious objects at her hips, pulling them out. Then she pressed a button on each one and they snapped to their full length. The asps spun in her fingers, obviously she was comfortable using the oddly colored weapons. One blue wrapped in a red vine and leaf pattern, the other purple with orange. 

“Let’s dance, fuckheads.”

I'm unstoppable I'm a Porsche with no breaks I'm invincible Yeah, I win every single game

“Get her!” Hun bellowed, and a sizable number tried to do just that.

Keyword here is, tried.

Vicky exploded into motion. Her asps came up in a blocking maneuver to block a punch even as her leg kicked out to nail him in the stomach. She flipped horizontally over his bent body before landing on his other side, now kicking him in the side and into the group. Her elbow slammed into the neck of the one coming up behind her, sending him sprawling before her foot came up and around. Connecting with his face and helping his stumbling along. 

Then she went low, the same legsweep she had used on Leo was now used against the Dragons getting to close to her. 

Leo stared at her, his mouth gaping open.

“Move, Fearless!” Raph slapped the back of Leo’s shell to get his attention. “Ya can wrestle her in bed later, but we gotta get Mikey outta here!”

Leo shook himself out of his stupor and he himself burst forward. Vicky had broken a weak spot into the press around them and he had to help her hold it open. His concern rising when Hun himself was moving in on her.

He blocked the punch from the massive human that was aimed for her head. His eyes now locked onto the leader of the Dragons as they exchanged a rapid flurry of blows. 

I'm so powerful I don't need batteries to play I'm so confident Yeah, I'm unstoppable today

Vicky caught him off guard when she ducked under one of his kicks, then leapt high, her braid trailing around her as she spun. First one, then the second asp connected with Hun’s face before she landed and ducked under Leo’s own punch as it came in. 

And so it continued, the two of them weaving around each other as together they kept the large man at bay. Even managing to drive him back step by step. It was very clear that she was used to this intimate way of fighting. Her movements flowed easily to compliment Leo’s and he began to feel a sense of wonder. How long had she been doing this? That she could move so easily with him, it was as if she knew his every move intimately. They both kicked out together and hun went flying, crashing through his own men and created the breakout opening they badly needed.

Unstoppable today Unstoppable today Unstoppable today I'm unstoppable today

They both held the hole open as Raph and Donnie rushed through. The larger carrying Mikey while Donnie kept the Dragons off of their tail. 

Once they were out of the main press of bodies Vicky leapt up and flipped over a few of the Dragons. Her intent to now retrieve the bike now that the brothers were clear. Raph would kill her if she left it behind. 

Problem was, it was in the middle of Dragons. She just sneered and ran towards them, her weapons held ready in her hands. Once more she whirled, her arms moving faster than they could comprehend as he weapons hit home again and again. she finished off by kicking the final one in the face before righting up the bike.

Unstoppable today Unstoppable today Unstoppable today I'm unstoppable today

Vicky fired it back up and let it spin out around her, knocking more bodies out of her way. She revved it a few times and it shot forward. It circled around the crowd, and she still held an asp in one hand. Her new game was smacking them senseless a she passed them by. 

I put my arm around, show you how strong I am I put my arm around, I'll show you that I am

She knew they were bogged down in they escape attempt because Mikey still wasn’t fully functional. Vicky had to find a way to relieve them of that. Her brown eyes moved rapidly as she tried to figure out a way out of this dilemma. 

Vicky grinned widely when she found her way out. 

I'm unstoppable I'm a Porsche with no breaks I'm invincible

Quickly she collapsed her asp again and holstered it. Her finger dipped into another portion of her belt and came up with a kunai. She held it by it’s point a moment before she flung it, right at Hun’s head.

He squealed and ducked and it flew past over his head. 

“You missed.” He grinned.

“Depends on what I was aiming at.” She smiled coldly.

“Huh?” 

The strap holding the cates high in the air snapped, and they fell. Covering Hun in a mass of broken crate parts when they hit the ground. One lid sliding to form a ramp she had been hoping for.

She pulled the bike up next to Raph. “Drape him over. I got him.”

“But-” 

“Just do it!” Vicky flared. “If this bike can hold your fat ass, it can hold the two of us!”

Raph just stared a moment before he nodded and handed Mikey over. Vicky made sure the youngest was secured then spun the bike around on squealing tires.

Even as she lined the bike up, she saw the crates move. Hun was already trying to dig his way out. She didn’t waste any more time.

Yeah, I win every single game

The engine revved.

I'm so powerful

The bike sped forward, rapidly picking up speed.

I don't need batteries to play

She crouched lower, eyes narrowed as she held Mikey firmly in place

I'm so confident

Vicky hit the ramp, ignoring the pained grunts coming from under the wood as hun was once more squished to the ground under the weight of the bike.

Yeah, I'm unstoppable today

They flew high over the heads of Hun’s men and landed on the far side. The Ducati wobbled a bit before Vicky was able to steady it. 

Unstoppable today Unstoppable today Unstoppable today I'm unstoppable today

“See ya fuckers!” Vicky popped a triumphant wheelie as she sped off with her prize, knowing the brothers would be easily to extract themselves from what was left without the worry of her and Mikey slowing them down. Her delighted laughter trailing behind her.

Unstoppable today Unstoppable today Unstoppable today I'm unstoppable today Leo could only stare as she drove away, his eyes awestruck and completely smitten.

“You owe me a new helmet.” Raph pushed Leo’s shoulder to get him moving. “Yer crazy cookie broke mine.”

Leo just nodded his agreement as he turned to follow his brothers out of the badly backfired trap. Soon, the only thing left was the groans of the downed Dragons, a broken red helmet and a completely confused and angry Hun.

@the-second-circle-of-shell @bushido-in-blue

[supernaturalfreewill]

Words: 4,380 Sam x Reader Warnings: None really! A/N: SURPRISE! This is the first part of a new Sammy series! I think it will be around 4 parts, but last time I said that Mess Is Mine happened so... I just won't guess this time. I'm working on like 8 other stories right now, but this one refused to go away unless I put it down. Based on this imagine .

Your name: submit What is this?

Your sister and Dean were arguing about who had won the last game of poker, a fairly frequent occurrence during your weekly game night. You were startled to find that Sam was already looking at you when you looked up from stacking the cards back into the game case. It sent a jolt like an electric-tinged chill up your spine. The best you could do back was to smile at him briefly and tear your eyes away.

“Well, I’m heading to bed I think,” your sister said, yawning and stretching. She stood and wrapped her arms around Sam’s neck from behind, leaning in close to give him a kiss. “Are you coming to bed?” she asked him pointedly.

Your stomach tightened into a knot. “’Scuse me,” you said with a forced smile. You gathered a few empty bottles and glasses and exited for the kitchen abruptly.

Once there all you could do was lean over the sink, white-knuckling the edge of the counter, trying to think of anything but what you actually were thinking of… Footsteps behind you jolted you into action. You blasted the water on and grabbed the soap and a sponge.

“Relax. It’s just me,” Dean said.

You dropped the pretense of washing the dishes and spun to face him where he was leaning against the table giving you a knowing look. “Y/N…” he started.

“Don’t.”

“But? But?! My sister, Dean! My sister! How could I do that to her?” you demanded. “I can’t. I can’t do that.” You couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes.

He let out a heavy sigh. “Then you’re going to be stuck just where you are now. Wouldn’t you rather regret going for it than sitting back and not trying?”

You glared at him. “I think I’d regret ruining my relationship with the one blood relative I have left.” There was a tense silence that stretched far longer than was comfortable before you finally broke it. “I’m going to bed… Tell them goodnight for me.”

“Wait,” Dean called after you.

“Goodnight, Dean.” You hugged him, long enough for him to sigh heavily again and plant a kiss on the top of your head.

“Goodnight…” he murmured, and then you were gone with a soft padding of stocking feet.

Dean wandered back out into the library to find Sam still sitting at the table, a fresh glass of something in front of him. “Isn’t that like your fourth nightcap?” Dean asked.

Sam glowered at him momentarily. “Pot. Kettle. Black,” he said.

Dean pulled a face and shrugged. “Fair enough.” He poured himself a share of whiskey too and sat down across from his little brother. “Isn’t someone waiting for you?” Dean asked.

Sam’s jaw tensed. “Yeah, I–I told her I’d be in in a bit…” He hesitated and cleared his throat a little awkwardly. “…Where’s Y/N?”

Dean was just about ready to scream. “Bed. Told me to tell you ‘goodnight.’”

“Oh… okay.” Sam drank deeply from his glass, nearly draining it.

Dean raised his eyebrows at his little brother. “Something you want to share with the class? Thoughts, maybe?”

Sam shook his head. “No.”

Dean left a beat of silence. “You know, you’ve been putting kind of a dent in my whiskey lately. You think I haven’t noticed? Am I supposed to just pretend that new bottle was 2/3 empty when I bought it.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably and gulped down the tightness in his throat to little effect.

“Sammy… come on. Talk to me. What the hell is going on in that long-maned head of yours?”

Sam shut his eyes for a moment and chewed his bottom lip. “I’m in love with Y/N,” he blurted out. “And it’s a mess. I’m with her sister. I’m dating her sister! And I’m love with Y/N.” There was something like anguish in his voice.

Dean stared across the table at Sam’s tortured expression. There was nothing to say to that.

“So, you know what? I’m taking a leaf out of your book and having a few nightcaps… that way when I wake up in the morning on the right side of the wrong bed, maybe I won’t care so much...” He downed the little remaining in his glass. “And I really can’t deal with a lecture from you right now, Dean, so just–just don’t. Night.”

Sam got up, leaving his empty glass behind, and stalked out.

“Jesus fu–am I living in the goddamn Twilight zone or some shit?! Didn’t I just have this conversation?!” Dean muttered aloud to himself. “There is not enough fucking whiskey in the world right now for this…” And with that he poured himself another.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You woke up very early, having gone to bed much before your usual time simply because you wanted to be unconscious… It seemed to be the only time you didn’t have that ache in your midsection and painful swirl of thoughts in your brain. You headed for the kitchen, looking forward to a hot cup of coffee and maybe some quiet self-reflection to stop your spinning. But you were surprised to find that you weren’t the only one awake despite the very early hour.

“Oh—” you let out a little surprised noise when you crossed the threshold and Sam looked up from his place at the center island.

“Y/N,” he said, his eyes a little surprised. He straightened up in his seat. “Hey.” He had passed some fitful portion of the night beside your sister and finally surrendered to insomnia. He had hoped that not lying next to her, feeling like a liar, would diminish his anxiety but it had proved to be mostly wishful thinking. He rubbed a hand anxiously over the back of his neck. “You’re up early,” he said.

“Yeah, umm… went to bed early so…” You smoothed a hand over your hair, quite sure that it was probably unruly from your tossing and turning all night. Sam loved that. “Coffee?” you asked. He jumped to his feet.

“Yeah. Of course. Let me get it for you,” he said.

“Oh, thanks.” Sam poured you a big mug of coffee from the pot and went to the fridge to grab some milk.

“You just take milk, right?” he asked, even though he knew the answer. He knew how you liked your coffee. He always knew what book you were reading. He knew your favorite color was seafoam. He knew you liked a gin and tonic with about an entire lime in it. He knew you liked whiskey and water, and dark beer, and the lavender-scented dryer sheets. He knew every little detail about you and he loved every single one.

“Yeah. Thank you,” you said. You accepted the mug from Sam and his fingers brushed yours as he handed it to you. You knew how cliché and stupid it was, but your heart still jumped at the contact. Is this what you would have to keep living on? A split second of Sam? You felt like a drug addict, sustaining only on the thought of the next high. You studied him as he sat down at the island again and you quickly noticed the dark circles under his eyes. “…Are you alright?”

Sam’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, startled a little by the question. God, how badly he wanted to answer truthfully. He wanted to tell you, No. I’m not alright. I’m not. I’m living a lie I don’t know how to get out of without ruining the path to what I really want. Instead he nodded. “Yeah,” he said, sipping his coffee. “Just a little tired.”

“Mmm. Trouble sleeping?” you asked, absently rotating your mug on the marble counter, warming your fingers. Seemed like you both had the same problem the previous night.

“Uhh—a little. But I’m okay,” he said, he tried to force a reassuring smile. He didn’t want to think about lying in bed next to your sister. It was the last thing he wanted to think about. “Thanks,” he said. “For asking though.”

You nodded. “Sure, of course.” A long moment of silence stretched and you were surprised that when you looked up, Sam’s eyes were already on your face, but he tore them away quickly and looked down into his mug. Your heart beat faster as you wondered at the meaning. You searched for something to say to him, something to bring his eyes back to yours. You could look into them forever—you always saw such understanding, such strength in them. And he was warm and funny and smart and kind… and this thinking made your stomach clench because you knew he was out of reach.

Sam cleared his throat and pushed down the sick feeling in his own stomach. “So, what’s on the schedule for today?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I dunno. I was thinking of working out later. Maybe kick Dean’s ass sparring,” you said, a small smirk gracing your face.

Sam let out a small laugh and shook his head. “That’d be good for him,” he said. But he felt a jealous twinge and a heat rising in his chest that he tried to ignore.

“How about you?” you asked. Sam shrugged.

“I don’t know… We’ll see. Maybe try and rustle up a case or something.” It was a classic method of distraction that Sam tried to use, even though it was only a temporary success. He would work, and work, and work. And it gave him an excuse to tell your sister he was busy, that he couldn’t take the time that day to spend with her doing something that he felt wasn’t genuine because all he could think about was doing it with you instead…

One corner of your mouth twitched upwards. “You work too much, Sam.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah… I know… but there’s always something else out there.”

“Exactly. There is always something else out there. And there always will be. So, you should take the time off when you can. Enjoy life a little,” you said, brave enough to meet his kaleidoscope colored eyes again.

Sam nervously chewed his bottom lip. He could be consumed by you instantly if he let himself—the way you were looking at him with that small smile and your eyes so bright, seeing only him in that moment. Reality reared its ugly head suddenly when footsteps started up the hallway and broke the temporary spell.

Your sister bounced into the kitchen. “Morning!” she said. She went over to Sam and ran a hand down his back affectionately, pecking him on the cheek. “I was a little bummed out to see your side of the bed empty this morning…” she said in a low voice to Sam.

You abruptly got up and headed across the kitchen to the pantry, feeling suddenly sick with envy and wanting to distance yourself as much as possible. You started pulling ingredients out just for the distraction and your sister was soon at your side. “Whatcha makin’?” she asked.

“Pancakes?”

“Sounds good. Better you make them than me. You remember what happened last time?”

You shook your head at her and laughed lightly at the last kitchen disaster. “Smoke. Everywhere. You shouldn’t even be allowed in the kitchen,” you teased her.

“I will never try again,” she said with a laugh. “I have no problem acknowledging my faults.” She bumped you with a friendly elbow. “Soooo…” she started. Her tone made you look up at her a little tentatively.

“…Oh, no. I know that tone. What is it?”

She grinned widely at you.

You raised your eyebrows at her. “What is it? Cough it up,” you said. “I can see you are plotting something…”

“Well, I was thiiiinking we should go out tonight. Get out of the bunker… You know, go into town… maybe go to that bar with the suuuuper hot bartender?” she said, wiggling her eyes at you.

You sighed. “I don’t know… I kind of just feel like staying in.” You didn’t know Sam was listening intently now from his place at the island still.

“You always feel like staying in! That’s why you have me to twist your arm and get you out of here before you turn into an old spinster who is in a serious relationship only with her books and tea kettle.”

You rolled your eyes. “Wow. Gee, thanks, sis…” you said sarcastically. “And you know what? That actually doesn’t sound too bad!”

This drew a laugh from her and she bounced on her feet a little. “Pleeeeease! Come on. You know once you’re out you will have a good time! And that bartender was totally into you last time.”

You looked at her eager expression and the excitement in her eyes. Maybe a night out would do you some good. You could definitely use a distraction and the bunker was somehow always haunted with Sam and your sister’s relationship… Reminders everywhere; that they shared a room and a bed together, that you could walk around any corner and find them kissing, or sitting closely, or whispering some secret conversation with secret smiles you weren’t privy to… “Alright. Fine,” you agreed. “But for like two beers and that is it!”

She pumped a fist in excited success. “Yes! Oh, I’m totally gonna pick out your outfit and everything. You’re gonna look hot,” she said.

You pointed vehemently at her. “No dresses!”

“But—”

“No! No dresses!” She pouted at you but relented.

“Fine… no dresses…”

“Dresses?” Dean said, coming to join the rest of you in the kitchen and peeking over your shoulder at the bowl you were dumping ingredients in. “Who’s wearing a dress?”

“No one!” you said loudly.

Dean grabbed a mug and poured in some coffee. “Why not? I’d love to see you in a dress, Y/N,” he said laughing gruffly. “Like, a short, tight little black cocktail dress… some high heels. Right, Sammy?” he asked, giving Sam a wink and drawing a very unamused stare from him. You gave Dean a scolding look and he relented.

“We’re going out tonight to Lucky’s,” your sister explained. “And I’m gonna pick out Y/N’s outfit and she is going to flirt with that hot bartender who was hitting on her last time.” You rolled your eyes.

“Ah,” Dean said. He chanced a glance at Sam and noted the muscle twitching in Sam’s jaw as he clenched his teeth. “I see.”

You turned to look at Dean. “You wanna spar later?” you asked him. God, you needed to work off some frustration and bitter jealousy…

He sipped casually at his coffee. “You wanna get your ass kicked later?” he asked, giving you a satisfied smug smirk.

You tilted your head and raised your eyebrows at him, a half-smirk on your face. God, Sam loved that expression, the playful spark in your eyes. “We’ll see, tough guy,” you said, turning back to the pancake batter.

_ _ _ _ _ _

A few hours later, you and Dean were both a little sweaty, circled up on the mat in the room you had converted to a work out area. You had your hands up and were seizing each other up, both with grins on your faces as you waited to see who would strike next.

“Give up yet, Winchester? By my count, you’re losing,” you goaded him. He laughed and wiped some sweat from his brow.

“You have gotten a lot better, Y/N. Must be because you have an amazing tutor,” he said with a gruff laugh. “And quite handsome at that!”

You rolled your eyes which was a mistake because Dean took that opportunity and swept your legs out from under you and you landed hard on your back on the mat, gritting your teeth a little as the breath was knocked out of you. Dean laughed hard as you let out a frustrated groan. Once you caught your breath, you accepted his proffered hand to help you back up. Sam came in just then as you were circling back up, ready for the next bout. Dean bounced lightly on the balls of his feet in the typical boxing shuffle, hands up in guard. “Sammy!” he yelled, seeing his brother come in. “Good. It will be nice to have someone else witness Y/N’s destruction—”

But just then you threw three punches at him and he had to scramble to block two of them. He wasn’t fast enough for the third and you landed a solid hit into his stomach, giving him a satisfied “HA!” and a wide grin.

“What’s that you were saying, Dean?” Sam called out, grinning, sitting down on one of the benches along the wall.

Dean shook it off and the two of you had an intense bout where you both gained ground on the other but were eventually blocked or fought it off. Finally, you sent a jab straight at Dean’s chin but he was able to block it and reroute your momentum, grabbing your arm and again sending you down to the mat. Just then as you were letting out a string of expletives and Dean was laughing heartily in victory, a cell phone rang.

“Oh, shit. That’s probably Garth. I gotta take that. I’m expecting him to call to today,” Dean said, heading over to the bench and grabbing his cell phone. He looked at Sam, whose gaze was fixated on you where you were lying on your back still in the middle of the mat, just resting for a minute and beating yourself up for letting Dean drop you. “Sammy, I’m tagging you in,” he said, giving him a wink.

“What?” Sam’s eyes went a little wide.

“I said you’re in. Hello? Yeah, hey Garth…” Dean stepped into the hall leaving Sam alone with you.

He gulped at the nervousness in his throat and stood up, walking out onto the mat. “Hey,” he said. “You okay?”

You sat up abruptly, a little surprised to see Sam appear over you so suddenly. “Yep. Fine.”

Sam offered you a hand and you felt butterflies flutter to life in your stomach as he pulled you up to your feet. Your hand stayed in his perhaps just a little too long.

Sam cleared his throat and looked down at you. “Uhh… Can I show you how Dean got you down?”

“Oh—yes. Please. I hate when he wins,” you said, giving Sam a small smile.

Sam anxiously rubbed the back of his neck as he stood in front of you. “Okay. Well, go into your guard stance,” he said. You obliged, stepping one foot slightly back and the other forward. “Good. Now, you want to use your lower body to propel that punch, but you need to be able to maintain your balance.” Sam squared up with you, pulling his hands up into guard. “So, just keep a little more weight on your back foot when you jab and propel yourself from your hips.” You nodded. “Okay, try it,” Sam said, holding a palm out. “Hit it, right here.”

You threw a jab at his palm, but he pulled back right before you connected and again you lost your balance and pitched forward toward him. “Whoa!” Sam laughed a little and caught you, his hands landing instinctively on your hips to stop your momentum. You both froze for a moment. You were still breathing fast from the physical exertion, but Sam was too, for an entirely different reason. Your hips felt small under his hands, and he could clearly feel their curve and angles. His heart was pounding and he felt a jolt of electricity zip up his spine. Perceiving that he should have let you go by now, his hands floated off you and he stepped backward. You anxiously chewed your bottom lip. There were tingles trailing behind where his hands had been. “Uhh—a little better, but you’re still taking too much weight off that back foot. Try again,” he said.

You both resumed your guard and Sam held a hand up again. This time you threw your jab and though he moved his hand back before you connected, you maintained you balance and immediately threw a cross punch which he had to block. A smile grew on his face and a matching one lit up yours. “Good! That was a really good!”

“Thanks,” you said, still squared up with him. You quickly threw a couple punches which Sam skillfully blocked and he returned—and that was it. You were full on sparring. Sam dodged one of your punches and you surprised him immediately with a high kick that caught him in the chest, knocking him off balance. But he was right back into it, now advancing on you and forcing you to give up ground. You waited for an opportunity to throw a combination at him but he somehow saw it coming and blocked it. The next second you skillfully swept a leg underneath him as he recovered from a block and he tumbled back onto the mat, landing hard but immediately starting to laugh. You stood over him with a wide grin on your face and walked over to look down at him. “Give?” you asked him.

His only response was to sweep one of his legs from where he was laying on the floor, taking you out at the ankles and sending you sprawling down on top of him. “Shit!” You landed with one arm extended to catch yourself on the floor and the other on his strong chest. Your body was pressed into him and you immediately felt your cheeks flush. You could feel his hips pressing into you. You lips were mere inches from his and you could see all the hues in his irises. He swallowed hard and there was a vague smile on his face.

Suddenly, you felt one of his hands landed ever so gently on your lower back and wow, electricity. “Give?” he joked, the vague smile still on his face, his eyes starry, his heart pounding. He couldn’t believe you were actually pressed against him and he wondered that you hadn’t immediately moved, climbed to your feet, put distance between the two of you. You felt paralyzed looking into his eyes.

“I give,” you said. Your voice was low and breathy because truthfully you couldn’t breathe, you were so startled by the whirling feelings and thoughts washing over you. Sam’s hand landing so lightly there on your lower back, it felt intimate.

But you suddenly heard the door open, and Dean stepped back into the room having gotten off the phone with Garth. The noise called you back to your senses and you leapt to your feet, anxiously backing away from Sam, but you weren’t quite fast enough. Dean had frozen a couple steps in and seen you on top of Sam—but he quickly pretended he hadn’t.

Sam cleared his throat and climbed to his feet, sweeping his hands back through his hair. “Good. Yeah, just… don’t let your guard down. Ever. Even once you have them on the ground.”

You were a little wide-eyed and you turned and headed for your water bottle and towel on the bench. Dean gave you a meaningful look as you approached but you just tore your eyes away from him.

“What did I miss?” he asked you in a low voice, his tone pregnant with meaning.

Sam watched from the center of the mat as you dabbed at your forehead and neck with your towel. “Nothing,” you said to Dean. “Just—training.”

“Mhmm…” Dean replied, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Stop it.” Dean held his hands up in a sign of surrender. “Umm… I’m gonna go shower,” you said.

“Alright. Well, hey, I saw your sister in the hall. She wants to head out to the bar in like an hour and a half.” You nodded and quickly waved to Sam as you left the room, feeling your cheeks coloring again with a blush and hoping that your face was already red enough from the exercise to hide it.

“Thanks, Sam. Alright, I’ll see you guys in a bit…”

Dean noted that his brother’s eyes didn’t leave you until you disappeared through the door, which slammed and echoed in the space with an uncomfortable finality. Dean pressed his lips into a thin line and looked at his little brother. “So,” he said.

Sam frowned at him. “So, what?”

Dean shrugged and raised his eyebrows. “What exactly was that?” he asked, the gravel thick in his voice.

“What? Nothing. I just—we were sparring and—”

“Oh, you were sparring,” Dean repeated skeptically, crossing his arms over his chest. “Because when I came in it didn’t look like there was a lot of sparring going on as much as it looked like Y/N was on top of you and—”

“Stop.” Sam admonished.

“Sammy, come on. I spar with Y/N all the time and we have never ended up like that—”

Sam’s jaw clenched and he gave one last stern look to his older brother. “I’m just—just forget it. I’m gonna go get cleaned up and it sounds like you should too.”

“Sam! Sammy, come on,” Dean called after him, but Sam just waved him off and disappeared into the hall, leaving Dean to sigh heavily in frustration.

Part 2

[sazzafraz]

ects snippet one

I don’t see this bit changing a lot so its spoiler freeeeeee

He thinks of acid and bile first. His tongue is on the points of his teeth searching for the stale carrot taste. Dead bodies in a lake almost make him hungry. Like soup, Kyuubi says, now, should add some salt. Naruto thinks of their families and draws from Konoha shinobi standard what he should do next. The Uchiha graves are the only ones he’s seen up close. Found and burned away by his Sasuke years ago, not yet warded against yin spirits. Those small piles had been lumped together too close to the houses at first and then reburied in a Konoha approved location when Sasuke became Konoha’s only Private Citizen. Now they’re done by matrilineal lines and decorated with Uzumaki shells and ribbons from Lightning. When Naruto was asked, allowed, to come Sasuke had him press strawberry seedlings into the ground. Sasuke had been messily eating from a different bowl and had pulp smeared across his mouth and jaw. Then, Naruto had wondered if he was allowed to sweep them away with his tongue, if people did that sort of thing in graveyards. Now Naruto knows that the dead do not appreciate love or lust.

People soup. Naruto counts twice and draws a grid on the shallow shore with his foot. 

Monkey Leader is inattentive to Naruto’s actions. He sits between them and their merchants keeping his gaze on the horses. Only one of them likes Naruto. A chestnut mare with a band of white around her mouth and eyes that make her seem mean -she’s downplaying exactly how vicious she is, but she likes him, and that's more than he was expecting. Naruto pulls the body into the grid and starts with the teeth. Pulls back molars for the guys in T&I. The skin sloughs off the dead man's face, puddles down into his wet clothes. Naruto burns it off with Kyuubi’s power, excellent as always for getting rid of evidence. Molars should be enough.

He has a sort of frustrated passion about this. See, Naruto knows intellectually that this has to be done, is done regardless, because you can’t have dead bodies in waterways. They bloat and rot and make people sick. The kind of sick that people like Giri come to fix and then leverage into destabilising the entirety of the Elemental Nations. Naruto also knows that a missing tooth is a decent price for the families of these poor dead to get closure. The third, worst thing Naruto knows is that things come to see dead bodies, things like him. Ninja like him. Spirits like him. Sons of Oceans and Mountains and tall white pillars to the underworld, like him. None of them, really, should be looking at these dead bodies. 

Six teeth. Naruto eyes a leaf moving out of sequence with the wind. Tanuki, an earth specialist.  Tanuki nods and quiet as a mouse the bodies sink into the shore.

--

Sunagakure welcomes them and their trophies at dawn. They sneak in over the sand tide-line two to a row before even the most thrifty merchant has set their wares. Gaara’s office will not be officially open for another three hours, not even his Twilight Guard will accept a visitor now. So Naruto does what he does, cracks his back and makes a loud exclamation about finding a place to sleep. Monkey Leader sets them on a course through Suna’s cruisy districts and around the intelligence quarter. The Konoha away barracks are part of their recent trade deal. A cushy thing on their end and Naruto knows where his room is. After the Summit, before the War, Naruto quietly moved all the things he previously left in Gaara’s spare bedroom to a Jounin room with an ensuite. This room is at the end of the hall with no windows, nothing in or out. A dead end. Monkey Leader espys him but does not comment. 

In the room Naruto turns off the radio left playing on the dresser. His old book lies with its spine cracked, a pair of pants he left to wash last time crumpled on the bed. His single pillow looks lonely. Someone has been in since he was here last, the footprints in the thick carpet aren’t his own. Following this probably-not-a-stranger he sees that his personals have been restocked in the bathroom, laid on the rim of the strange standing bathtub. The grates have been cleaned. Naruto runs a bath and dumps a satchel with Sakura’s clean, neat writing into the water. A small bag sits next to it and he recalls a short conversation at dinner some nights ago. Sasuke and Kakashi had been having one of their weird bonding moments over Naka rocks. Kakashi would run his bandaged fingers over them looking for some indefinable flaw. Sasuke would say that’s not the point and hand him another. He and Sakura watch this for a few minutes, giggling into their beers. Sakura had just shaved her hair down again and the elfin lines of her face were so perfect he’d had trouble not telling her so. 

“Naruto,” Sasuke says in his low clear voice, “what are you thinking about?”

“Sakura’s pretty,” he blurts out. Sakura lowers her eyelashes for a moment, laughing.

“Yes.” Sasuke agrees. “But what are you thinking?”

“‘Bout rocks?” Naruto shifts his gaze carefully. He’s bowled over often by how much he loves looking at Sasuke. If he does it too fast the soft pink of his mouth and thin scar that meets his ear makes him drool. “Dunno, that one.” He picks one from the pile and holds it triumphant.

“Idiot,” Sakura says. She too picks a rock. “Momentos? Right?” 

Sasuke flushes from his heart upwards, making the pink of his lips plush. Sakura keeps her rock, eventually Kakashi meets his proteges standards and departs with his own. Naruto pockets his but forgets it in the wash. Here it is again in Sunagakure with Sasuke’s hair ribbon around it. 

In reality Naruto does not now nor has he ever had momentos. He has moments and memories aplenty. Long, too long sketches of Konoha night in the main thoroughfare in the early morning. The drift and drag of everyone's footsteps lying in the dirt, on the street, leading to the houses they share with people that want them there. Swing sets. Shrine steps. Stoops. All of them empty, at least when he’s there. A city is a lonely place in his experience. 

Things are better now. He has Sasuke, when they aren’t fighting. Sakura, when she’s capable of acting without compromise. Kakashi, when he isn’t fighting a cold war alone. His other friends, when time allows. Allowance is better too. Assured at the very least. 

Compromise is a word he knows now. A strange little door into the way life actually works. 

See, Naruto’s first idea of how things work is formed at 4pm, 2am on weekdays and 7-11am on Saturdays. There’s a little alcove outside one of the curving windows of Konoha’s Library, high above the main hall near one of the old study nooks not even ANBU use. On rainy days the water sloshes off the side. On sunny days the heat only touches the edges. There is enough room for a boy to escape with a little apple and the free water from the front desk. The window is permanently cracked open to let out the musty air. When Konoha’s long hot days and nights were too much for even the most dogged badgering Naruto would skin himself raw heaving his body into it. A radio plays all day in the library, old records and ads for toilet paper. Like everyone else Naruto drowns out the patriot tunes and concentrates on the old radio head that chooses which stories play at the end of the school day. Hashirama and the Seven Headed Snake, Subaru and the Stolen Sword, Himawari Sunrise, Nariko Ascending. He’s heard them all at some point, drifted away to the tales of heroes and Hokages. 

Naruto’s met Hashirama now and he’s a whole different deal. Tsunade makes more sense when you know that that was her first idea of a hero. 

In The Seven Headed Snake Hashirama does not speak. He does wield a sword of redwood through the thick neck of a serpent so big it blots the sky. His heroism is in his quiet dutiful battle. The way the man telling the story describes his strong back and long hair. That’s your back, he says. That’s Konoha’s back. It sounds so absurd, even to a child training to be a ninja: cut through the sky, mold the earth, call forth life to do your bidding alone. The snake’s carcass, the narrator informs them, is as long as the Naka river, and buried somewhere near the big swell the Uchiha worship. On dark nights its eyes watch the village, warily, for Hashirama’s redwoods stand sentinel. Not even in death can he be escaped. 

People don’t let things like Naruto in their houses. This he knows before he can speak. There is something in him people don't want on their doorsteps. Later he knows it's the Kyuubi. After that he knows that it’s the Uzamaki blood. Even later, when he came home from a war that crushed out the light he thought he could carry anywhere, he knew it was simple mortal fear. Something inside Naruto will never die, and anything more mortal than him knows that. Well, except Sasuke. 

In the warm bath water he caresses his leg, not letting it go any further. Far from home he misses his love. There’s an edge in Naruto, sharp as his chipped tooth, that’s only soothed by long dark hair and a softening body. Naruto leans up to look at the scents and staples Gaara’s left in his room. Sweet aloe and greens. Salt and fresh made sand. He thinks of Sasuke’s skin and Sasuke’s soft smile and how he cuddles close to warmth. Naruto’s had grim reason to be grateful for how hot he runs, this last winter when Sasuke’s feud with their electricity provider cut their power mid cold-snap he’s had happier, hornier reasons to be joyful.

Sasuke has a vicious glee about domesticity that is deeply adorable. He loves arguing with the cashier about his coupons and going to PTA meetings and making trendy sandwiches. He does it with a soft violence that Naruto absolutely does not relate to but finds charming. Never has a man wanted for mass murder been so invested in a collect-a-coin newspaper competition. He plays music and cooks food. He goes to town halls and puts up with the mean crooked smile in their fruit vendors eyes. Naruto loves him so much when he makes noise. Naruto loves him more when it’s quiet at home. Naruto loves when Sasuke will talk to him about things he cares for: plants, dumplings, people. Here, far away from his love, Naruto loves that he doesn’t have to lie to him.  

Naruto drags his hand up to his stomach and uncorks the bath. The soft slush of water is the last noise in the room.

[n3rdybird]

The Serpent Ch 1

Written for @tilltheendwilliwrite​‘s 7.7k Celebration/Covid Sucks Challenge.  My prompt was this image.

Not gonna lie, this got away from me a bit, and looks like it might flesh out into several chapters.  Hope you enjoy!

Vikings

OFCxIvar

Rating:Teen

Warnings: Blood/Battle/Curse words

The singing of swords echoed through the trees. Ivar and his men mowed down English soldiers with relish, screaming their victory. Ivar, atop his chariot, pounded his axe against the woodside, eager for more. The wood bridge was no-man’s land as both sides rushed each other, dying over the water. Ivar urged his horse forward, his blood pounding with every Englishman slain. Out of nowhere, a sword caught his arm, causing his grip on his horse's reins to falter. The horse panicked, causing the cart to careen sideways on the rickety bridge. The chariot slammed into the side of the bridge, sending Ivar over the edge. He had but a moment to see the clouded sky overhead, before falling into the churning river.

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

The calm quiet of the glade was an illusion. The plush green moss underfoot, the soft rushing of the river, the clear blue sky. By all accounts, it was a peaceful day. But the muddied red river and corpses along the banks betrayed that notion.

 A lone figure picked through the woods, a piebald horse trailing after her a few paces behind. She laughed as the horse would pause to chomp at the occasional green leaf. The horse would toss his head, annoyed, when she would urge him forward with a click of her tongue. He would take his revenge by nibbling at her chestnut brown hair in defiance. Legs encased in sturdy leather leggings, her torso covered by a thick band topped with animal fur. Her boots were soft and pliant; she didn't make a sound as she scanned the grounds for various plants.

 She paused when coming upon the bloody scene. She hitched her herb basket higher up on her back before squatting to inspect the closest body. The chain mail and metalwork of his armor pointed to a soldier of Lord Aldrich. She curled her lip in distaste; she had run-ins with his men before. Her family was not welcome to the ‘civilized’ English. She scavenged his corpse, searching for anything of use. When she found nothing, she moved on to the next. The leather armor was similar to what her people wore but thicker and heavy with metal studs. These men were not her kin, nor Alrich’s. They were someone new.

 While towns did not appeal to her, they were a great source of news. She heard the whispers of the elders, as they discussed the possible allies or enemies. Northmen, they were called. The heathen monsters from across the sea; known for pillaging, killing, wearing their enemies blood like warpaint. Something most parents would tell children to frighten them to stay close to home. Much like the tales that surrounded her kin. But this scene proved they were human and bled, like all men.

 She made her way to each of the bodies, picking over each one. She found very little, refusing to take any of the adornments of the unknown warriors. If they were fighting with her clan’s enemies, they deserved the courtesy of not being picked over like carrion. She found a dagger tucked into a waterlogged belt. It was well made and would be easy for her to wield. She stood and brushed off her knees, not wanting to linger when a groan caught her attention. Brandishing the purloined knife, her eyes darted around to find the source.

 As the groan reverberated again, she pinpointed its source to a fallen log. The enormous oak was half-submerged under the river. The tree's limbs acted like a sieve to catch anything in the river’s current. Wedged in the branches was a body. Curiosity winning out against sense, the woman wadded into the water, following the sound. She tossed the debris aside, revealing a young man, pale but breathing. He had blood clotting at his temple and a nasty gash on his shoulder. He wasn’t one of Aldrich’s men that was certain. His braided hair was decorated with beadwork and his armor matching that of the Northmen. She kneeled, the cold water lapping at her thighs, and reached out to trace his brow. He was young, no wrinkles but a few silvery white scars spaced apart on his skin, most likely from battle. He was a handsome sort, and no doubt a person of importance, if his stylized armor was to go by. She was so focused on her appraisal that she didn’t see him move until it was too late.

 Pain shot up her arm, her wrist held in a bruising grip.

 “Hvem er du?” his voice growled out. 

 Although his language was unfamiliar, his gravel-toned voice made her shudder. His forceful tone and his grip were intimidating, but the bright blue eyes staring drew her in. Steeling herself, she wrenched her wrist away and reached for the dagger at her waist. The warrior was quicker and had her dagger against her throat in a flash.

 “Hvem er du!” he yelled, the blade demanding against her skin. He trembled and blinked, his eyes unfocusing. He was weak and close to falling unconscious again.

 She leaned into the blade, the metal cutting her flesh. He stared at the blood trickling down her next, before bringing his piercing blue eyes back to hers.

 “Elda,” she introduced, taking the knife from his weakening grip and putting his hand on her chest.

 “Ivar,” he mumbled before his head lolled forward. Elda stood up, tucking the knife back into her waistband. He was strong, that was certain. And if half of his men were as strong as he, perhaps her family’s future would not be so bleak. Decision made, she whistled, and her horse plodded closer, whinnying at his owner.

 “Come closer Paega, you coward. I’m not carrying this man back to the hut alone.” He tossed his mane and snorted.

 “Fine,” she huffed, hefting Ivar as well as she was able. He was heavier than she expected, his upper body strong under his leathers. She clicked her tongue at her horse, and he kneeled, allowing Elda to drape the man over his back. Paega straightened up, dancing a bit in place to get used to the weight on his back.

 “Come on now boy, let’s get back home.”

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

 The trek back to her camp took Elda longer than anticipated. While Paega had a smooth gait, picking through the woods caused the rouncey to stumble at times. She tried to take it slow so as to not aggravate the Northman’s injuries. She would be disappointed if he died after the trouble of getting him out of the river.

 Elda crested a hill and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of her camp. The wood and thatched roof were modest, but it was hers. The small hut was nestled in a glade surrounded by rocky outcroppings. It had some supplies and a lean-to barn for Paega. The hut itself was sparse, a single room with only one wall. But it was enough for her when she was away from home and needed a safe refuge.

 The young woman was able to get Ivar inside with some effort, with Paega all but dumping the Northman onto the wood. After his victorious delivery, the chestnut horse busied himself with a bucket of hay.

 The brunette stretched, her back sore from hauling the unconscious man across her threshold. For now, Ivar lay on a bedroll fashioned from furs. Elda collected supplies, herbs, and clean linen dressings and a bowl of water. She arranged them next to the bedroll. The next step would be to undress him. Elda knelt next to his prone form, her fingers attempting to undo all the buckles and straps. She eyed the strange metal skeleton encasing his legs but passed on trying to figure it out. His shoulder was the priority. Each layer she set aside until skin slick with blood revealed itself.

 Ivar wasn’t the first man or boy she’d seen shirtless. Her skills as a healer had her seeing many people at stages of undress. Ivar was no boy. His upper body was all sinewy muscles and scattered scars. Elda allowed herself a moment to gaze at the ink adorning his shoulders, wondering what deeds he had completed to earn them or if he had more. Shaking her head, she turned her attention to the gash on his arm. It spanned his bicep to his shoulder, deep, but not fatal. The blood loss combined with the cold water of the river led to his current state. She cleaned the wound, first with water to wash away any dirt, and then again with an herbal rinse. If it was painful, only the slightest twitch from her charge betrayed that. Needle and thread in hand, she closed the angry wound with even, small stitches. It would scar, but what was another in his already impressive collection. Ivar grunted in his delirium and opened his eyes.

 He panicked sluggishly, attempting to push Elda away.

 “Stop Ivar,” she chided, pushing his arm back down with a firm hand. Even in his state, he was almost strong enough to toss her aside. Elda braced his head and brought an earthenware bowl to his lips, water for his parched mouth. He slurped at the bowl, causing him to cough when he took too much. She pulled the bowl from his mouth, even though he groaned in disappointment.

 A poultice was next, fresh cloth steeped in warm water and herbs. Goldenrod to stop the bleeding. Garlic to prevent infection. Feverfew to keep him from falling to fever. With the remedy placed on his arm, and then wrapped tight, Elda turned her trained eyes on the rest of him. The gash on his temple was superficial but she cleaned and treated it nonetheless. Ivar watched her through half-lidded eyes, not trusting Elda. She didn’t see any more wounds aside from a few scrapes and bruises on his top half, so she reached for his legs.

 “No!” he half roared/half slurred, sitting up to push her hands away. Elda jerked at his outburst, knocking over her bowl. The bloody water splashed across the wood, soaking into the furs. She cursed and stood up.

 “Ungrateful ass!” Elda couldn’t help the irritation coloring her tone. She gathered her supplies as Ivar groaned, clutching his shoulder.

 “Lay still, else you will undo all of my hard work. And I refuse to stitch you up again,” she said, pushing the stubborn warrior back down. He grunted but allowed Elda to arrange the bedding.

 Within moments, Ivar seemed to either fall asleep or unconscious. To be fair, she normally wouldn’t care, he wasn't one of her people. But the elders had a vested interest in the Northmen. After all, the enemy of their enemy is their friend. Or at least their potential ally. She stood and walked to Paega who had finished his meal and nibbled at her pants looking for more.

 She laughed, feeling some of the tension leave her shoulders. Paega was a gift from her father when he realized he couldn't stop her wandering. A sure-footed horse to help her escape should she run into trouble. Over the years, Paega had become her constant companion, seeming to know what she was feeling.

 “Is this a foolish idea sweet boy?” she asked the horse, who nickered in response. Elda stroked his nose, the velvety skin of his nose soft against her hands.

 Now all she had to do was get her charge to Valkwind without running into Lord Alrich’s men. Or any Northmen who might take offense to her holding one of their own. She could only hope that he would be less combative once the fog of battle waned.

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

 Ivar awoke with a start and immediately reached for his weapon, which was not at his side. He was without a shirt and winced when his shoulder pulled. He touched the bandages wrapped around his arm, sniffing the herbal scent wafted from it. The wound was stiff, but not burning with infection. The hovel he was in was little more than a lean-to with a single wall and a raised wooden floor of rough-hewn wood. There were few supplies stashed in boxes or hanging from the roof.

 His legs seemed a bit sore, but that was common. However, his leg braces showed damage. He didn’t remember much after catching the blow to his arm, but he remembered falling into the water. The metal was bent in a few places, snapped in others. Ivar cursed under his breath. He wasn't sure if they would hold if he stood, or if they'd crumble under his weight.

 A movement to his left drew his attention, and he saw a brown and white horse nosing at some of the hanging herbs.

 “Paega!” a feminine voice scolded the horse. A young woman with a pheasant in one hand and a bow around her chest. The horse seemed immune to the chastisement and took a leaf in defiance. The woman grumbled something in a language Ivar didn’t understand but patted the horse's neck. Ivar followed her every move, watching for any sign of aggression. His hands flexed, wishing he had a weapon in his grasp.

 “This north man believes me to be an enemy. Surely he’s noticed I have bandaged his wounds,” she said to the horse, turning her gaze to Ivar. While she was speaking English, her accent betrayed the fact it wasn't her first language.

 “Who are you?” he asked. The woman tilted her head at his use of English and smiled.

 “I am sure that I answered that yesterday, Ivar,” she said, with mirth in her eyes. He frowned at her flippant attitude. Did she know who she was addressing?

 “To remind you, my name is Elda,” she introduced with a little bow. Ivar bristled.  Was she mocking him?

 “Where are my men? Where am I?”

 “The alive ones, I do not know. The dead ones, several leagues to the south. It is where I found you, after all. Half-dead. Gratitude would be appropriate,” Elda said with a nod to his shoulder. She took a seat at the edge of the hut and began plucking the feathers with efficient movements. Instead of thanking her, Ivar huffed and reached for his shirt. He twisted his body to reach it and did not see her eyes widen at the design inked on his back.

 “You will take me back to my camp,” he ordered, pulling the shirt over his head with a wince.

 “I will not,” she retorted, continuing her plucking. “I do not know where your camp is located, nor do I wish to run into Aldrich’s men.”

 At the mention of his enemy, Ivar studied the woman. She didn’t seem like the typical English woman. No long swishing skirts, her hair wasn't coiffed but pulled into a loose braid. He admired the way her leather leggings clung to her hips. Elda reminded him of a shield maiden of his people, but less refined. She wore no gold adornments, her few pieces of jewelry made of polished stones or carved bone.

 “Aldrich is lord of these lands, yet you speak his name with contempt,” he said, zeroing in on the knife at her hip. If he could get it away from her, he could make his way back to his men. He did not relish losing his command to his brothers.

 “Lord of these lands, pah,” she said with disgust. “My people have been here for generations, long before Lord Aldrich deemed it his.” She pulled the last stubborn feathers out with a vicious yank and set the bird down.

 “And who are your people?” he asked with veiled interest.

 She looked amused at the question.

 “My people? If you were to ask our enemies, we are the uncivilized heathens who spurn their ‘God’, commune with nature spirits, and snatch their children to drink their blood.”

 At this Ivar grinned. Such stories were familiar, after all his reputation was similar.

 “Is there truth to the stories?”

 Elda smiled and pulled her knife out of its sheath. She tapped the knife against the pheasant.

 “We don’t drink children’s blood. Why waste the whole child?”

 Ivar laughed at her jape.

 Elda methodically slid the knife through the bird's flesh, pulling the meat from the bones. Ivar had to admit, her knife skills were impressive. He could only imagine what she could do against her enemies, slicing through skin with deft precision.

 She finished butchering the bird and set the knife aside. She stood up and made her way to the small cookfire outside the hut. While Elda focused on skewering the meat to cook, Ivar palmed the knife, tucking it under his sleeve. He couldn’t believe the foolishness of the woman. She had no idea who she was dealing with and her ignorance would be her downfall.

 While she tended to the cookfire, Ivar formulated a plan. He would catch her off guard, and demand she take him back to the battlefield under threat of death. From there, he would be able to find his way back to his camp. He’d take her as a thrall. She had skills as a healer, and she was striking to look at. His brothers would be jealous of his captive.

 Elda’s voice cut into his thoughts.

 “Are you planning to use that knife before or after I finish cooking? I would ask that you wait until after I've eaten.”

 Ivar looked up to see Elda watching him with a knowing grin. He bristled, angry at himself for being caught and for the smug look on her face.

 “You could have killed me the moment my back was turned, yet you did not move from the bedroll. So you are waiting. For what I wonder?”

 She stood up, brushing dirt off her knees.

 “For me to come closer? You would not let me check your legs for injuries. Perhaps you are injured.” Elda watched Ivar for any reaction to her questions. His strange leg armor wasn’t anything she’d seen before.

 “Well, Northman? Are you going to kill me? Steal my horse? Somehow find your way back to your men? Without running into Aldrich’s?” she asked, before holding a skewer just out of Ivar’s reach.

 “Or you can eat, ride with me to my family, and have an ally in these lands?” She approached him and straddled his legs, kneeling on either side of his hips. Her thighs brushed his, as she kept her weight off him. She was so close, that he could drive the knife into her neck with ease. Fearless, he had to give it to her. This woman had more balls than most of his men.

 Ivar clamped down on the irritation that was bubbling up at the gall of the woman. While he did not take orders from anyone, she had a point. This land was unknown to him and he was without the support of his men. It riled him to be exposed like this, armed only with the pilfered knife. And that self-satisfied smile. She knew she was his best option. Even if he did kill her, he wasn’t sure if he could even get on her horse, let alone ride it to find his camp. For now, it would be in his best interest to at least follow the strange woman’s lead. He could always kill her later if he so chose.

 He spun the knife in his hand before tucking it into her belt. He ran his hand along her waist to her arm. His hand circled her wrist and he could feel her heartbeat through her pale skin. It was quick and that fact excited him. Yet as calm she seemed on the surface, she was still nervous. Ivar brought her hand up to his face and took a bite out of the skewered meat. The meat tore easily and juices ran down his chin.

 “How far is it to your family’s land?”

[banashee]

This is another one of my @badthingshappenbingo​ prompts.

Prompt: Chronic Pain

Please mind the tags and warnings in the authors note!

-

 (Pain)fully Human

 Being one of the very few Avengers without superpowers royally sucks sometimes. It really does, even though Clint is used to it.

 It's fine, he keeps telling himself, but he is no longer 20 and getting up in the mornings is a lot harder these days, and a lot more painful.

 Clint is in his late 40s, which isn’t even old, really, but it sure feels like it when you’ve been working hard for most of your life, tagging along with actual superhumans and rescuing a city and occasionally the world every few weeks. Not to mention the injuries - they can be real nasty, and when the weather gets cold, Clint can feel them in his bones. He doesn’t complain though, not really.

 He will complain about everything and anything else all day long if you’ll let him, because at heart, some part of him is a grumpy grandpa and has been ever since he was a teenager, but he rarely, if ever, voices any real distress. It’s easier to deflect because what is the alternative? Admitting defeat or the fact that his days in the field are definitely counted? No way.

 Clint can deal with a lot, but feeling useless - or worse, being useless - isn’t one of those things.

 This is why he forces himself to keep going even when every muscle in his body cramps and protests, and it’s why he forces himself out of bed despite being exhausted. Pain is part of the job, he learns early on, and there are quiet periods where he can heal and relax.

 When exactly the pain stops disappearing, he wouldn’t be able to tell.

 At first, it’s just smaller aches that linger, especially a bad back and a few old wounds. Over time, it gets worse - it is a creeping process.

 Some mornings, Clint can’t get out of bed without being in excruciating pain. He can barely stand, let alone walk. Those days, he can’t even make the short way from his bed to the bathroom without struggling. He clings to the bed frame with watering eyes, cursing up a blue storm and collapsing back onto it, gasping for breath.

 Clint remains sitting on the edge then, shaking like a leaf and breathing through the pain until it fades away just enough for him to be able to carefully get up, slowly making his way through the day. Some days are bad enough that he can’t even leave the house to do anything - the fatigue, the frustration and his mental health spiralling out of control are simply too much.

 He’s always had trouble with Depression and Anxiety, but the constant exhaustion and pain only make it worse.

 Clint doesn’t ask for help, not even when he spends days in bed, only getting up to go to the bathroom and drink a bit of water.

 As long as he had Lucky, those days were somewhat bearable. Clint would spend them cuddled up somewhere warm and soft with the deep, even breathing of his dog nearby, dozing on his chest while he could bury his hands in soft fur. It truly is Clint’s favourite way to seek comfort. Lucky always had a knack for reading his human’s mood. Especially on the bad days, he stays close, trying to help him in the sweet, loving way dogs do. Lucky is amazing in so many ways, and Clint just hopes he can repay his beloved companion enough.

 When Lucky first came to him, he was still kind of young, but now, he is much slower and calmer than before. His once entirely golden fur keeps growing greyer by the day, and their walks get shorter and shorter as time passes on. Instead, Lucky likes his sleep and getting belly rubs for as long as possible. Clint happily gives him all this, and much more.

 He owes this dog his life, and that is no exaggeration. If it wasn’t for Lucky, he probably would have given up on life years ago.

 But unfortunately, no dog lives forever and once his beloved companion is gone, Clint’s bad days get worse. They get worse in an emotional way, for sure, but he could swear that the pain itself doesn’t ease like it used to.

 His therapist strongly recommends getting another dog, because it is proven that emotional support animals can be very helpful, but he puts it off. Clint feels guilty, doesn’t want to replace Lucky, especially while he is still grieving. It feels wrong, but deep down he knows that his therapist is right.

 “You don’t have to replace Lucky. He was special to you and I understand that, but I also think it would be good for you to allow another dog - or cat, or whatever animal you’d prefer - in your life. It helps.” his therapist had told him for the 20th time, and finally gotten through to him.

 A few days later, Clint visits the local shelter and finds himself sitting on the floor, surrounded by dogs of all shapes and sizes. Part of him would like to adopt every single one of them, because honestly, who wouldn’t?

 But then, he falls in love with a black lab.

 This dog is keeping to herself, sitting calmly behind the other dogs as if waiting for a quieter time to greet the new human in the room. One leg is missing, and there are some grey hairs scattered across her sweet face and especially around the snout.

 “Hello sweetie, who are you?” Clint asks, carefully crouching down near the lab. She comes closer, curiously sniffing his outstretched hand, wagging her tail and then allowing him to pet her. Even more so, she practically melts into the gentle touch and Clint has already given his heart to this dog.

 His grief over Lucky is still there - always will be, to some degree - but this sweet, gentle soul seems to be the perfect companion for him now.

 “This is Betsy. She’s an old lady, as you can see, and she’s been with us for most of her life. She was not treated well in the past.” the staff member explains, and it’s clear that she wants the best for Betsy. The young woman smiles at Clint with a knowing smile as she watches him interact with Betsy.

 Clint is head over heels in love, and having to leave without this old lady dog almost breaks his heart all over again. Betsy seems to agree, because it very much looks like the love is mutual.

 Luckily, a few visits and a lot of paperwork later, Betsy comes home with Clint.

 He carries her up the stairs, and once they enter the apartment, the dog is met with an overwhelming urge to sniff and explore everything, and she happily does so for all of two minutes before she trots over to where Clint has collapsed on the couch - the pain is flaring up again, but he smiles at Betsy and pats the space on the couch next to him. A moment later, Clint finds himself with a lapful of very happy dog, and he just knows that this was the right decision.

 Betsy is incredibly loving, calm, and mostly happy when she has food and cuddles available at all times - both of which are plentiful here.

 The first night, Betsy sleeps right next to Clint, burrowing into him and the blankets. From what they told him in the shelter, this is the first time ever she gets to be in a bed - or a couch, earlier that day. She seems so happy and grateful about every little thing, and Clint just knows he would kill for her in a heartbeat.

 Their shared journey only has begun, but the bond is already strong. Both of them are in desperate need of company and love, and they definitely found both in each other.

 As time goes on, the bad days get more and more, and it takes one particularly bad day where Clint almost misses a shot in the field for him to come to a final decision.

 No one but him notices his mistake, but it sends cold dread down his spine.  After the debrief, when he finally makes it home, Clint has a full blown panic attack the second he closes the door behind him. He comes back to himself with Betsy pressing herself close to him, and he leans his cheek into her dark, smooth fur, stroking Betsy’s head in an attempt to calm down.

 The two of them are cuddled up on the couch, warm and secure, when Clint makes the decision. Today had been a close call - just a split second later, just a breath of air in the wrong direction, and people would have died. It can’t happen again - Clint is the best there is at his job, but it’s been too long. He’s in too much pain, getting too unreliable. It’s the last thing he needs, and damn it, the other Avengers deserve the truth. He owes them that much, not only for the obvious reasons, but because they are friends.

 Clint doesn’t talk to Steve. As much as he likes and respects him, the last thing he needs is Captain America trying to be kind and understanding when he himself doesn’t look a day over 30 and could casually weight lift a truck before breakfast.

 Instead, he seeks out Tony in the downstairs laboratory.

 Tony works just as always, chatting away to JARVIS and humming along to Black Sabbath - some things never change. Others do, however. Grey streaks are more and more visible in his dark hair and beard, and it might not be noticeable as much, but he moves more carefully than he uses to.

 If nothing else, Tony will understand, so this is why Clint tells him bluntly,

 “Hey. Just so you know - I’m retiring.”

 “Alright. How come?” the other man asks, letting his screwdriver roll across the table.

 “Getting all old and creaky.” Clint aims for a joke, but he gets a raised eyebrow in response.

 “Excuse you, you’re younger than me. If you’re old and creaky, what does that make me?”

 Clint shrugs.

 “Not the guy who almost missed a shot in the field.”

 There it is. Out in the open. A beat of silence passes between them.

 “What? When? I never even realized…” Tony looks at him directly now and he is no longer joking.

 “Last mission. It still went okay, but… It nearly didn’t. I can’t go out there in good conscience and risk people's lives because I can’t do my job right anymore.” Clint shrugs again, sad this time.

 “That wouldn’t be fair to either of you.”

 Tony just nods, letting the silence wash over them for a while. Neither of them is good at the whole talking thing and honestly, they’ve known each other for so many years, there is more than a little understanding between them.

 “Those mortal, squishy, human bodies have their disadvantages, huh?”

 A bark of laughter bubbles up his throat. It feels strange, but he definitely needed that.

 “They sure do. Honestly, fuck that.” Clint laughs some more, and Tony looks satisfied with himself. He totally got the reaction he wanted, and their conversation is a lot lighter after that.

 “Hey.” Tony says later, keeping Clint from walking away just yet.

 “Don’t be a stranger, okay? Us mere mortals gotta stick together.” He goes for a shoulder check, but Clint pulls him into a quick but tight hug. Tony returns it though, clinging on for just a second before he releases his friend with a shoulder slap and another few bad jokes.

 As far as conversations went, this one wasn’t half bad, Clint thinks, and makes his way back home.

 Betsy is waiting for him, and happily greets him as soon as he walks through the door.

 “Hey honey, I’m home.” he tells her, happily letting her lick his face and then they curl up in their favourite spot.

 Clint’s bones are aching and protesting from the movement of the day and old injuries are giving him trouble again. It’s getting cold out, and it only manifests what Clint already knew - he did the right thing.

*+~

Prompt 7/25: Chronic Pain

Warnings:

- breif, non-graphic mention of suicidal thoughts - off-screen death of a dog (due to old age, no cruelty!) - discussions of chronic pain and it's issues over the years - discussions of mental health, bad days

[magiccrossangel]

Don't Steal, It Will Make You Poor...

“Why is this so? Stealing will make you RICH!!”

No… stealing will make you poor…. Stealing has the karma of loss that returns to you manifold. Because when you steal from others, they lose. Thus, when the karma comes back to you, you lose. If you steal many things from others, many people have lost. Thus when the karma comes back to you, you will also lose many times.... make sense? That is the Law of Karma. Knowing this Law exists, we must make it a point never to steal things. Always pay for what you want. If not, don’t buy it. If it is too expensive, find a cheaper alternative. Operate honestly. Honesty is the Best Policy.

When I was younger, around 17 years old, I had a shoplifting spree. I started by stealing Conqueror Paper from the Polytechnic’s bookstore. I wanted to print out beautiful reports. I succeeded because I was smooth and had my back turned to the cashier. Later, I wanted to be successful, so I stole Mind Programming Tapes from a Self-Development Store. They cost $50 per single cassette. Later after that, I wanted to enjoy playing 3D Video Games on my self-assembled computer. So I walked into Challenger Computer Store and tried to steal an Nvidia GeForce Graphics Card worth $679 in a big box! I spent 5 minutes trying to peel off the anti-theft security tag. Finally it came off! Tucking the Nvidia box into my plastic bag and trying to walk out of the store — suddenly the electronic alarm gates BEEPED continuously! Out of nowhere the store detective appeared and gripped my arm — he wouldn’t let go. He told me calmly to sit down in the office. I sat there like a dumbo not knowing he was actually calling the Police! The police came and handcuffed me and put me in jail for a day. I saw so much rubbish about what happens to people when they do crime.

There were 7 men in one lock-up cell. You had to wear their prison garments. There was no hand-washing basin, no toilet paper. There was only one toilet bowl there… you had to pee and shit in front of everyone and you wouldn’t even be able to wipe your ass! Everyone had their heads down… buried in their knees. Everyone sat on the cement floor. There no beds, no rattan mats… nothing but bare cement and a toilet bowl. I sat there feeling sad that my life had come to such a state. I looked at all these men… all seemed to be facing the end as well… given up hope; head buried in failure and sadness.

Good thing, they considered me a minor. Let off with a Warning. My parents came to pick me up. They were very quiet. Driving me home, they didn’t say a thing. They must have been very disappointed. I recall at sometime… someone told me, “You have such smooth hands, you should be a Magician!” So I took up magic as a hobby and in a year’s time, I became a Children’s Magician! :D

So, it is possible to turn your life around. If only you knew what to do with your talents. Really, don’t steal. It’s not worth it. You can easily buy all these luxuries when you have a little children’s magic show business or your own income stream. Think about how you can make money. Use your wits to design a business or job for yourself. Know what you have to study to get you there. Everyone has talents they can convert into income. You just have to know what your in-born talents are, then put time, money, and effort into developing these talents by training, education, study, reading, listening and learning; thinking, writing, drawing etc. All the same terms? :P These are all learning options.

Pay for your tools. They will serve you better than stolen goods. It’s the karma of buying your items. Things you obtain… are actually ‘living things’. They contain spirits. An Apple Pencil has a drawing spirit artist that guides your art pen. A lipstick has a beauty spirit that makes you look hot. If you didn’t pay for her lipstick, she will make you look like a clown. :D

Stealing doesn’t pay off. The karma for stealing came back to me 3 times… I failed in my first 3 businesses I set up. That cost me thousands of dollars each! So, if you want to succeed in life…. You need the Karma to be set right. You should Pray at a Church or Temple or Mosque for Success! Cleanse Yourself of All Sin! Do no more evil in your life! Be a Completely Good Person and Do Absolutely Good Things! The accumulation of all your good work and good effort, combined with smart thinking on how to make income… will make you wealthy. That is better than stealing and believing the mental illusion that you are gaining, when you are actually destroying your future life! Okay buddy? Learn from a Master… (thief). :P Haha. Good thing I overcame all that 22 years ago and turned over a new leaf. I never stole a single thing after that. Ever! Not even bit-torrenting. I don’t steal people’s videos or paid information either. Downloading through file sharing, is known as Piracy. That is also a form of stealing. I know you can find everything there… so maybe I’ll just hop on and enjoy digital stealing! :D

If you ever had trouble with Kleptomania (stealing addiction), know that you can overcome it with counselling treatment. It is a treatable condition. It’s not the end if you get caught… you can easily sort out any charges with the company. You will get a Police Record. But you can carry on with your life. Don’t steal anymore. Just get good and do good. Keep working hard. Work ingeniously! Use your thief ingenuity to build a real good person’s business! Tell you one last thing… sometimes, there are kleptomaniac spirits which can possess a human being and make you steal things. It’s not your fault, you know? This kind of stealing is dark spirit possession. That’s why you need God’s Help or Buddha’s or Allah’s Help. Amen? Amituofo? Praise Allah? :D (Not to forget Hindu Gods and Taoism.)

You can transform your life if you really resolve to do it. Really resolve to change your life for the better. That’s how I did it in my darkest times. You can too.

That’s all I have for you now, buddy. Bookmark my blog. It’s a piece of rubbish now… but it will be a shining glory later. Okay? Talk to you soon.

Sincerely, Lance Ong Life Coach Lancism.sg: Wisdom For The Singaporean Hire Life Coach Lance: +65 8878 8892

[sinsiriuslyemo]

Dearest Readers,

I know I’ve been absent during this quarantine and for that I’m sorry. It’s been pretty crazy to have to do distance learning with my six-year-old, but we’re getting by. I’ll be honest, I almost messaged the amazing @thefanficfaerie​ to tell her that I wouldn’t be able to do this, but the more I realized that I hadn’t created in what seemed like forever and thought about how much I missed interacting with you guys on here, the more I wanted to complete this challenge.

So I did what I always do, I sat down with three loose-leaf sheets and played “Penny and Me” by Hanson on a loop until this came out. I didn’t intend to be so on the nose with this one nor did I intend to use our current situation with covid19 in the fic, but here we are. Thank you so so much to @thefanficfaerie​ for creating this challenge! Also, thank you so much to @italiandoll1129​ for betaing this little diddy. I hope you guys enjoy this little imagine and I hope you’re all doing well and staying safe <3

Sinceriously,

Amanda

Your life up to the point when the world stopped had largely been made up of acoustics and half note runs. Countless moments captured in a simple bar, a single verse, a reprised chorus. Music was your lifeblood, the ticking of the muscle that resided deep in your chest and then--just a few short weeks ago--silence. The world stopped turning, life as you knew it upended, and the music in your soul faded without refrain. It seemed survival had been triggered when the governor implemented a stay-at-home order and music became little more than a distant memory of better days.

   Rafael had been more than annoyed at the disruption of his carefully crafted schedule, but had it not been for his steadfast reasoning and patience you surely would have sunk deep into the dark, bottomless pit of despair and hopelessness. Your loving, quick-witted ADA was the brain that steadied the storm in your heart. Had it not been for him you surely would have crumbled into a useless mess by day two of quarantine. Not that you weren’t on the edge every second of the day, but at least you were sure that if you did fall apart, Rafael would be there to put you back together again.

   You sat on the bumped out window seat in the corner of the living room, pillow in your lap, sipping your mug of home-brewed coffee, staring at the lifeless street below. New York City had never been so quiet, but now all of its residents waited with bated breath for the virus that had halted all to pass. Even the criminal world seemed to be practicing social distancing, though an uptick in domestic violence was certainly keeping Rafael busy. For the creatives of the world, however, the coronavirus seemed to slowly poison the well of inspiration, leaving little else aside from disconnection and isolation despite the countless public figures proclaiming “alone, together.” Or whatever they were saying.

   “Mi amor?” You heard Rafael’s voice from down the hall and let your forehead gently touch the cold, glass surface of the window as your eyes closed. “Y/N, we should go to the store today and pick up a few things, what do you think?”

   You inhaled through your nose and turned your head to look back at him, offering a weak smile. “Yeah, maybe they’ll have toilet paper this time.” How had toilet paper become more valuable than the dollar bill seemingly overnight?

   Closing the distance between the two of you, your boyfriend brought the back of his fingers to your cheek, corner of his lips quirking upward. His touch had always been enough to calm the emotional tornado that stress brewed inside you. Especially lately, you had become acutely aware of his ability to make you believe that everything would be alright.

   “This is all temporary,” he would say. It never took very much convincing on his part as long as his skin was making contact with yours.

   “We still have plenty for at least a week or two,” he said as he moved to sit on the other side of the window seat, facing you.

   Pursing your lips, you nodded. “Still, it wouldn’t hurt to have some extra on hand, just in case.” You tried to leave it at that instead of allowing a worst-case-scenario to form in your mind. The governor’s instructions had been clear: stay home, wash your hands, social distance until the curve flattened, remain calm. Despite your own paranoia, the world was not actually on fire...or if it was at least it wouldn’t be forever, and in truth as long as you had Rafael by your side, all would be well. Though it was times like this that made you wish you believed in God. There were moments when you envied Rafael in that sense; most of all now, when a magical sky-daddy would be a welcomed reprieve from the ever-rising death toll and unemployment rates.

   “Honey, we have to stay calm and not panic-buy, okay?” Rafael said, reaching for your hand. “You should try to keep yourself busy. You know how your anxiety gets when you sit still for too long without something to focus on.”

   “I know, I just…” You ran a hand through your hair and grimaced when you realized you hadn’t showered the day before. “I can’t slow my brain enough to create anything coherent.”

   “So create something incoherent,” he suggested with a bob of his shoulders. “Or, instead of writing music, why don’t you just play some songs you enjoy or learn to play one?” You could sense your lips trying to form a smile as your thumb stroked over the skin between his knuckles. “I just know how important music is in your life. It always makes you feel better.”

   “That’s not a bad idea, actually,” you said in a whisper as your eyes fell to your joined hands. “Maybe I could go live on Instagram,” you added carefully. “I’ve seen a lot of people talking about how scared they are, too.”

   He narrowed his eyes. “I thought we agreed you should stay off social media for now.”

   In the beginning of your self-isolation, you spent nearly every waking minute refreshing your Twitter and Instagram feeds, which in turn, had served only to fuel your anxiety and almost caused a panic attack. The logical thing was to avoid social media; the daily press conferences and videos from Philip DeFranco were more than enough to keep you updated on the situation without causing you to cry yourself to sleep because Dr-Random-Twitter-Handle had posted about his hospital’s desperate need for PPE, and how a portion of his staff had become sick, which would convince you that this was in fact the end of the world and there was literally nothing that could be done to stop it.

   So yeah, no social media had been the plan.

   However, your desire to share music had been a part of you since you could remember, and especially at a time like this, music could be the very thing to soothe people’s fears, even if only a little bit.

   “I know but I can’t help but wonder whether playing where other people can hear would help in some small way,” you said. 

    Rafael lowered his eyes as if in thought, nodding once. “What if you opened the window so the neighbors could hear?” His gaze came back to meet yours. “It’s been pretty quiet the last few weeks.”

   It had been quiet in the neighborhood since all the bars and clubs shut down, including Penny and Me’s, the bar just downstairs that normally featured live music, which would fill the entire neighborhood and carry over to the next block. You smiled at your boyfriend.

   “You don’t think people might get annoyed?”

   “No,” he answered. “I think people are reaching for as many positive things as they can get. And some music, especially when the neighborhood has been so eerily quiet, might be just the thing that makes them feel normal again. Even if it’s only for a moment.”

   You eyed your guitar in the far corner of the living room, leaning against the bookcase that held countless escapes into other worlds. Normally when reality came to be too much, a mix of other worlds and strums on your guitar would be enough to keep you from losing it completely. But right then, when the world as you knew it was forever changed, you couldn’t justify leaving it, even to save your sanity.

   “And,” Rafael added. “If anyone complains, they’ll have me to deal with.”

   You snorted, standing and opening the window before you went to pick up your guitar. Sitting back on the window seat, you took your time tuning it while your eyes periodically wandered, looking for an idea of what song to play. From the corner of your eye, you saw Rafael take out his phone, tap his screen a few times before he held it up. You knitted your brows at him; wasn’t he just trying to talk you out of going live?

   “I just realized your family might want to hear you play,” he said as though he’d been inside your head. “What are you gonna play, corazon?”

   “I don’t know.” Your gaze fell on the unlit, cursive lettering on the building across the street and the familiar chalkboard by the door that now read, “Stay home. Stay safe.”

   With a gentle smile, you began to strum an intro of chords, the beginning of a song that was written strictly as a love letter to music, highlighting the importance of a song in our hearts and how a simple, familiar melody could remind us of our favorite moments in our lives. Music, without which the world would be a much darker place, the one thing that in an instant could heal a hole in your heart, the thing that often formed fond memories of nights up late by the fireplace. Music that could speak for you with such clarity if you had trouble forming words.

   “That’s not obvious at all,” Rafael mumbled after hearing you sing the first chorus.

   “Hush, you,” you replied quickly, not missing a single strum. “Cause Penny and Me like to roll the windows down…”

   As you sang through the full chorus, a second voice joined in from below. Rafael carefully stepped closer to the window, mindful to keep his phone pointed in your direction as he leaned to stick his head out the open square.

   “Lawrence?” you heard him call out between lyrics.

   “Hey Rafael!” the voice replied. “And Penny and Me like to gaze at starry skies…”

   Your ADA chuckled under his breath when a third voice sounded from further down the building, and a fourth from above. By the time you reached the bridge, it was as though half the block joined in. Your focus was on keeping time with your strums against the strings, but your skin had prickled into goosebumps at the sound of your neighbors singing along with you. 

   For the first time since you’d been stuck inside, it actually felt like despite the fact that you were all self-isolating, none of you were alone. In that moment, the entire block of 82nd street was one, singing through their pain and loneliness, belting their affections for each other simply by joining you in a cover of an early 2000s tune by one of the original popstars of the 90s. Through the final chorus you could hear the longing, the desire to be together truly once again, going to Penny and Me’s for a drink after a long week and weaving in and out of clusters of people on the sidewalk to get home after it got late. It reminded you that New Yorkers were fighters, that you had all seen worse than this pandemic and that one day soon you would be reminiscing about where you were during the 2020 pandemic that had paused the world and forced people to appreciate each other just a little bit more. The time when music, as always, kept you connected while you distanced.

   “Do you think this is going to go viral?” Rafael asked no one in particular after you’d played the final chord of the song. 

   “I don’t think so, it’s a fairly obscure song,” you answered with a grin as you leaned back against the window sill, allowing the breeze to blow strands of hair against your face. 

   “Still,” Rafael mumbled as he tagged your parents in the post and, at your request, tagged the song and the virus for easy reference if you needed a pick-me-up later in the night. “Okay, I’m gonna head out to the store. Did you wanna come?”

   “I think I’m gonna stay here,” you answered, rolling your head to one side until your eyes met his. “I should clean the bathroom...and myself. Then afterward, I might try to work on some more music.”

   The smirk you knew all too well flashed in your direction as he closed the space between you to kiss your forehead. “Maybe without the window being open. The neighbors didn’t mind a song they knew, but the last thing we’d want is to disrupt their marathon of Tiger King.”

   “Speaking of which, they added an episode,” you said.

   “They did?”

   “Yep, Carol Baskins isn’t in it though, from what I’ve heard,” you said.

   “Fucking Carol Baskins. Okay, I’ll be back in an hour, tops,” he said, going to the door and putting on his coat. “When I get back, I think we should make dinner and watch that episode.”

   “And after that?”

   He bobbed his shoulders. “You’ve been trying to get me to watch Lost for years. Maybe now is when you do.”

   “I don’t know if I wanna watch a show about a plane that disappears to an island no one knows about. We’ll see what my paranoia level is by the time we finish the last Tiger King episode.”

   “Well, you know I’ve been dying for you to watch Catch-22,” he replied with a smirk.

   You paused a moment, grimacing at the thought of the show adaptation of a Joseph Heller novel that you hadn’t very much enjoyed in the first place. “Lost it is.”

[datheetjoella]

Fantober 2020, Day 12: Enchanted Forest

Author: DatHeetJoella Fandom: Free! Pairing: MakoHaru Rating: T Part: 12/31 (read the full collection here) Word count: 1,799 Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Human!Makoto, Elf!Haru, First Meeting, Magic, Fluff Read at: AO3, FFn, or right here!

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

Tired and worn-out from his travels, Makoto weaved through the dark woods in search of a place to camp out for the night. Preferably at a river or a creek, somewhere he could refill his flasks and wash his face. His horse was starting to lose speed, so hopefully, he would find a good spot before she had to give in to exhaustion.

Then, the sound of running water drowned out the symphony of owls and crickets. He followed it and to his delight, he stumbled upon a glade at the bottom of a cliff. A pristine waterfall cascaded down the rocks, flowing down into a moderately-sized lake.

Relief engulfed Makoto from within and he leapt off his horse, guiding her over to the edge of the lake so she could drink from it. He kneeled and peered into the water. Moonlight shimmered on the surface, illuminating every droplet. Never before had Makoto seen such clean water; there were no fish or algae in the lake, not as much as a leaf or a branch floating down the stream or caught on the sides. It seemed almost divine and the mere sight of it made his scratchy throat even drier.

He cupped his hands and let the water flood his palms, gratefully drinking as much as he could get. The water tasted even better than it looked, fresh and crisp like it rejuvenated him from the inside.

Once he'd quenched his thirst, Makoto checked the trees to see if anyone was around. When he was sure the coast was clear, he disrobed himself and dove into the water headfirst.

When he broke through the surface, he felt reborn. The fatigue and strain of his travels slipped off him, leaving nothing but contentment and serenity in his heart. Although he was miles removed from home, Makoto had never felt quite as comfortable as he did within this lake.

Alas, this feeling did not last.

A shadow moved behind the waterfall and Makoto let out a strangled screech, hastily covering his nude chest. Through the stream emerged a man, someone whose presence he hadn't noticed before.

Fear spread through Makoto's body like he'd been hit with a poison-tipped arrow; he was alone in the dark forest in a rather compromising position. Even if he hadn't been, he was not exactly the type suited for combat anyway and he saw no opportunity to make a quick escape.

But when the man stepped forward and the moonlight showered over his face, Makoto's fear evaporated.

Long, dark robes that reached down to the ground were wrapped around his slender body. Pointed ears poked through a curtain of dark hair, framing his small face. His features were soft and elegant and his pale skin contrasted the darkness of the night. But the most mesmerising parts of him were his eyes, blue and piercing. Like he could peer straight into the past, present and future.

Elves were rumoured to be gorgeous and although Makoto had never seen one in person, he was certain this man was among the most beautiful in their entire species. His appearance made him forget about the world around him, enchanted by a single glance.

But then, the elf's expression shifted, from neutral to confused. Or rather, shocked.

"Who are you?" he said, and despite the vibrant distress in his tone, his voice had a calming effect on Makoto. "How did you find this place?"

"Oh, um I," Makoto stuttered, unsure which question to answer first. "I was looking for a place to rest for the night. I heard the waterfall, so I followed the sound and it brought me here."

"Impossible."

"Sorry, am I not supposed to be here?" Perhaps he was trespassing on elven territory without his awareness. "If that's the case, I'll leave immediately. I don't mean to cause any trouble."

The elf seemed to be at a loss for words and the uncomfortable, misplaced feeling in Makoto's stomach grew.

"The water…" the elf said after a brief pause, "did you drink from it?"

"Yeah," Makoto said, cowering into himself like he was being scolded by his mother. "My horse did, too. Is that bad?"

A loud groan left the elf's lips and before Makoto could blink, his robes were flying through the air and water splashed upwards, sending ripples of waves throughout the lake. He emerged right in front of Makoto's nose, shaking the beads from his hair.

It startled Makoto and heat warmed his cheeks when he realised how clear the water was and how he was still very much naked. The look inside the elf's eyes was fierce and sharp and Makoto wasn't quite sure whether he should be embarrassed or scared.

"Listen, if I did something that I shouldn't have, then I sincerely apologise," Makoto said, frantically waving his hands as if to prove his innocence. "Please believe me when I say that I had no ill intentions. I just wanted to wash up and fill my flasks, I meant no harm."

After another second of staring in scrutiny, the elf relented. "I believe you. What's your name?"

"Makoto. And yours?"

"I'm Haruka. Haru," the elf said. "Say, Makoto, you have no idea where you are, do you?"

"Not a clue." Makoto sheepishly rubbed at the back of his neck.

"This is the Sacred Moon Spring. Every droplet of this spring has been infused with ancient magic and every full moon, its magical properties are replenished and the water is at its most powerful." Haruka looked up at the sky and Makoto followed his line of vision; the moon was large and round, standing out brightly between the trees.

This was not good. No wonder he felt so refreshed. "We drank from the sacred, magic water…" Makoto stated the obvious. "So, what happens now?"

"I don't know. My clan has been guarding this spring for centuries, but no human has ever come near here, let alone drank from the water," Haruka said, "To be honest, I'm not sure how you even found this place. There's a protective spell around this area, a barrier that's supposed to keep all non-elven creatures out. Not even birds or deer can pass through."

"Oh," Makoto said, drawing circles on the surface with his fingers, "Well, there's this story in my family that my mother's great-great-grandmother was a Woodland Elf, but I always thought that was just a tale. Do you think it could be true?"

Haruka shrugged. "I guess it is. I don't have any other explanation why you would be allowed to pass through. The barrier must've detected elven blood in you."

"But there's so much more human blood in me, and I don't look like an elf at all."

"You don't," Haruka said as he took a step closer. "But your eyes do."

Makoto frowned. "My eyes?"

"Hm. They're… vibrant." When Haruka noticed how close he'd gotten and how breathy his voice had been, he blushed all the way up to his ears and increased the distance between their bodies. The pink hue looked immensely cute against his pearly skin. He coughed and tried to regain his aloof demeanour. "So, I suppose you are a descendent of a Woodland Elf."

"But what about my horse? I don't think she had a great-great-grandmother who was an elf."

"Were you riding her when you arrived here?" When Makoto nodded, Haruka said, "Then that's why. You lead her here, and your authority granted her permission to pass through, too."

That did make sense, as much as any of this magical spring situation could. Maybe there was an off chance he had bumped his head against a low hanging branch and was hallucinating, or maybe he fell asleep beneath a willow and this was all a dream. But was his simple mind truly capable of conjuring up something so fantastical, or someone as beautiful as Haruka?

Ashamed of his thoughts, Makoto said, "If I'm not supposed to be here, then I shall leave. I wouldn't want to disturb the balance of this place."

"You can stay, if you'd like," Haruka said, brushing his fringe back to appear nonchalant, "if the barrier let you through, then I see no reason to reject your presence."

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose on this sacred place. If there's a barrier to keep humans out, then I can't imagine it's okay for a human to bathe himself in this water."

"As the guardian of this sacred place, I'm sure," Haruka said, "To be honest with you, no one is allowed to touch this water with their bare hands, not even I. It's used in important rituals in my clan."

"Then I should get out! I'm so sorry," Makoto said in a combination of disbelief and panic; Haruka didn't seem to care, but the last thing he wanted was to be struck with an elven curse if anyone else found out.

A hand on his shoulder held him back. It was small and felt cold, yet it also emitted a strange sort of heat.

"You already touched it and drank from it, so I don't see why I would send you away now. The water is already contaminated, and truthfully, it was long before you even got here."

"What do you mean?"

"How could I guard such a beautiful spring without going for a swim every night? There truly is no water like it." For a second, a hint of an adorable smile was visible on Haruka's face before he let himself fall backwards underwater and Makoto couldn't help but laugh. Haruka was the first elf he'd ever met and a rather odd one at that, but Makoto had an inkling they were going to get along very well.

All throughout the night, Makoto stayed inside the spring and talked with Haruka while floating beside him. They discussed their everyday lives, Makoto's family and his apprenticeship at a blacksmith a couple of towns away from his home, Haruka's clan and their traditions - and Haruka's disinterest in adhering to them -, how Haruka became the guardian of the spring and what effects the water could possibly have on Makoto and his horse.

The hours flew by and Makoto completely lost himself in their conversations and in Haruka. He didn't sleep a wink, but the water energised him like no amount of rest could and there was nothing that could whisk him away from this place. That wasn't because of elven magic, though, but because of Haruka. Makoto's suspicions were confirmed; Haruka turned out to be just as beautiful on the inside as he was on the outside.

Many things about his future were uncertain now, but there was one thing Makoto knew for sure: this would not be the last night Haruka and he spent together.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Splatter

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Virgil, Gordon, Scott, John, Jeff, Lucille

And another fic for @gumnut-logic‘s #irrelief!  Two prompts for this one: “Little Virgil & Gordon” from @weirdburketeer and “Virgil trying to teach a brother how to art” from @melmac78

Scott was going to regret leaving him to handle Gordon alone, especially when paint got involved.

Nine year old Virgil eyed the paper in front of him critically.  It was almost done, almost perfect.  Just one more dab of paint… there.  His hand retreated and he nodded, satisfied, before movement caught his eye and reflexes honed by necessity caught questing, paint-covered, fingers as his menace of a younger brother reached out to deface his newly completed art.

“Gordon!” he complained at the five year old, who grinned back at him mischievously.  “What are you doing?”

“Painting!” he said gleefully, holding up two hands covered completely in a rainbow of colours.  With some despair, Virgil could see that damage had already been done – unsupervised, Gordon had managed quite an impressive array of handprints along the furniture and newly wallpapered walls.

Why was their demon brother unsupervised?

“Scott!” he hollered up at the ceiling.

“Scott’s busy!” Gordon chirped, smearing his paint-smothered hands on the table and narrowly missing Virgil’s completed artwork.  It was still too wet to move, and Virgil’s own fingers were paint-smeared and needed a wash before he touched it again anyway, therefore it was – somewhat – simpler to instead relocate the slippery creature he was apparently related to.

“Why is Scott busy?” he asked, hoping said brother would appear and take the five year old away before any more paint ended up where it shouldn’t.

“Homework!” Gordon grinned, flailing his hands around.  Globs of paint flew through the air, one landing squarely on Virgil’s nose.  He swiped it away irritably, only for Gordon to point and laugh.

He still had paint on his fingers.  And now on his face.

“SCOTT!” he yelled, as Gordon giggled insistently.  “JOHN!”

“What?” Scott’s voice finally floated down to him, sounding distracted.  John, predictably, didn’t answer.  His nose was probably buried in a book, rendering him deaf to the world. It wouldn’t be unusual.

“Gordon’s being a pain!” he complained.  With Mom and Dad taking Alan for a check-up, Scott had been left temporarily in charge and, in Virgil’s opinion, was doing a thoroughly poor job by shutting himself up in his room and letting Gordon run wild.

“I’m doing homework!” Scott shouted back.  “You play with him!”

A door shut upstairs, signalling the end of the conversation.  Virgil fumed silently at him for a moment, before realising that Gordon wasn’t giggling any more.  He looked around frantically, and found him raising a single, colourful, finger immediately above his finished artwork.

“No!” he snapped, leaping at his brother and forcefully dragging him away.  Brown eyes looked up at him hopefully.

“I want to paint!” he declared, emphasising his demand with a sticky finger jabbing at Virgil’s cheek. “Let’s paint!”

Virgil looked at his already paint-covered brother, glared up at the ceiling where his elder brothers had both willingly abandoned him to this fate, and then grinned.

If Scott wanted him to play with Gordon, he would play with Gordon.  After all, Scott was in charge and he was just doing as he was told.

“Okay,” he agreed, picking up his paints and taking them over to the kitchen floor, along with some vaguely paint-free paper.  “I’ll show you how to finger paint.”  Gordon’s ever-present devil’s grin was out in full force.

“I already know how to finger paint!” he declared, splatting his hand down in the vague vicinity of the paper, leaving another colourful mess on the floor.  “See!”

“No,” Virgil corrected him, leading him to the sink and washing the worst of the paint off of his hands as best he could.  Gordon wriggled, not unhappy with the water, but disappointed to see swirls of colour running down the drain.  “First, we need clean hands.”  He washed his own as well, using his bigger size to keep Gordon pinned in place until his hands were also acceptable.  “And dry ones, otherwise the paint will get too runny.”

The towel was accepted with poor grace, Gordon more interested in slapping wet hands on Virgil’s clothes instead.  Virgil persevered, however, and soon had Gordon sat cross legged on the floor, in front of the paper and paint, with clean, dry hands.  He sat down next to him, keeping most of the paint out of reach.

Gordon lunged for the paint in reach, dabbing his fingers in with precision until each finger (and thumb) had a different colour on, before he lurched for the paper and slammed them all down at the same time.  Virgil winced.

“That’s how babies finger paint,” he protested, looking at the hand prints rapidly forming as Gordon mixed the colours on the paper with abandon.  “I’ll show you how to do it properly.”

Gordon looked at the mess on the paper – a purple-brown concoction, for the most part – and then at his fingers.

“Clean your hands again,” Virgil told him, picking up another bit of paper.  Gordon wiped his hands vigorously on his clothes – freshly applied, the paint transferred readily to the fabric.  “Properly, Gordon.  Or no more painting.”  The blond menace pouted, but dutifully scrambled onto the stool to reach the sink again.

As the water gushed out of the taps, Virgil placed his clean paper over the mess Gordon had made, pressing down on it carefully and holding it there until he was satisfied the paint had stained it before pulling it away.

The water was still running.

“Gordon,” he said, and with a giggle the boy finally shut off the tap and hurriedly wiped his hands on the towel again before skidding back to his side on his knees.  “Look.”  He carefully dipped a single finger in the green, before dabbing towards the top of the area.  “Leaves!” Gordon’s eyes brightened, and he jabbed a finger in the blue before making swirls at the bottom of the paper.

“Water!” he said.  “Look.”  A wonky circle took up a hand’s-width of the paper, before a single skinny finger trailed a blue line from it all the way to the edge of the paper, and onto the floor. “A lake with a river!”

Virgil grinned.

“You do the water, I’ll do the plants,” he said, and Gordon nodded enthusiastically.  “Look, if you use darker and lighter colours, it looks better.”  Finding a dark green and a yellow paint, he dabbed at his green splotches.  Gordon watched with wide eyes before smearing a finger with the darker blue and slapping it in the middle of his lake.

“It’s deeper in the middle!” he declared.  “Where the fish swim.”

“And brighter at the top, where it sees the sun,” Virgil added, using his yellow to give little highlights to the top of each leaf.  Gordon frowned, looking at the paint colours, before taking a little bit of blue and adding some white to mix it together for a pale blue.  Virgil added a little more, for better contrast, even though his interference was met with blue paint on his shirt as Gordon pouted, and once the blond was satisfied he added the lighter colour to one edge of his lake.

Then he smeared yellow on his finger and added in small blobs with spikes to both the lake and the river.

“Lots of fish!” he said proudly, before using the orange unbidden to give the spikey blobs darker patches, and then the white for whiter patches “on top!”

Virgil laughed and let him be as he focused on his own leaves, adding in a bright red caterpillar to offset all the greens and blues.  Gordon also stole some red for more fish, and green for a frog, and by the time a car could be heard in the driveway, their woodland lake was full of creatures.

At the sound of the car, Gordon froze and looked around, as did Virgil.

The kitchen was a mess, large parts of the floor covered in paint.  It was going to take a lot to clean, and Mom and Dad would not be happy. A lithe, paint-covered hand, found the plastic palette of paint and with a Cheshire cat grin, Gordon flipped it face down.

“Whoops,” he said, gleefully.  Virgil stared at him in horror, knowing that was one more thing that would upset their parents, before remembering why he’d ended up painting with Gordon, of all the messy creatures.

He grinned back at Gordon and gestured up the stairs.  Brown eyes met brown eyes, and a matching look of mischief came over his own face.

“Not our fault,” he whispered.  A devious trouble maker already, it didn’t take Gordon long to catch on.

“Scott!” he giggled quietly, and as voices sounded outside the house, Mom and Dad getting out of the car, they crept upstairs and into their bedroom.  Paint-covered hands muffled giggles as they sat on the floor and waited.

They didn’t have to wait long.

“SCOTT CARPENTER TRACY!” Dad’s voice boomed out.  “GET DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT!”  There was a sudden scuffling from the room next door, sounding suspiciously like a chair falling over, before the door opened.

“What is it, Dad?” Scott called.

“I said GET DOWN HERE!” Dad repeated, and Virgil and Gordon had to hold their breath not to be overheard as their eldest brother tramped down the stairs loudly – before the noise stopped suddenly.

“What-” Scott started, only to be cut off.

“Your mother and I were gone two hours, Scott.  You promised you didn’t need the neighbours to watch you, so why is the house covered in paint?”

“Virgil was the one painting!” Scott protested.  “It’s got nothing to do with me!”

“Not just Virgil, judging by the amount of blue and yellow on the kitchen floor,” Mom interjected.  “You were supposed to keep an eye on your brothers, Scott, not hide from them in your room.”

“I was doing my homework!” Scott protested.

“The same homework you told me you didn’t have so you could definitely watch your brothers?” Mom replied, and there was silence.  Virgil and Gordon stared at each other, wide-eyed, then jumped as their bedroom door opened.

John slipped in, rolled his eyes at the pair of them, then settled on the floor by the window with his book.

“Get paint on me or the book and I will kill you,” he said firmly.  “I am not dealing with Storm Scott.”

Virgil nodded, although wondered why John would come here to escape, then turned his attention back to the altercation downstairs.

“Now, you are going to go upstairs, change into your painting clothes, and then clean this up,” Dad was saying firmly.

“But I didn’t do it!” Scott protested, loudly and furiously.

“Your responsible brothers will be helping you, don’t worry,” Mom told him.

“But why do I have to clean up their mess?” Scott demanded.

“Because this happened while you were supposed to be supervising them,” Dad said.  “If you want us to leave you without bringing in the neighbours, you need to start taking responsibility.  Now get moving – I can’t start dinner until this kitchen is spotless.”

Heavy footsteps stomped their way up the stairs, and Virgil and Gordon both flinched as their bedroom door slammed open, irate brother glowering at them through puffy red eyes.

Instantly, some of Virgil’s glee at payback for Scott abandoning him to Gordon faded.  Even Gordon seemed a little subdued.

“Sorry, Scott,” Virgil said before his brother could start shouting at them.  “I didn’t think they’d be that mad at you.”

“Have you seen the state you left it in?” Scott demanded furiously.  “I trusted you to keep Gordon busy just while I finished my homework, and then you go and do this?  Mom and Dad will never trust me again!”  The rest of Virgil’s satisfaction fled, and he looked down at his bedroom floor – and the paint that marred it.

“Sorry, Scott,” Gordon echoed, standing and giving his brother a hug, puppy dog eyes in full force. Scott glared down at him, and Gordon started to sniffle, eyes welling with water.

“Well we’re not getting dinner until it’s cleaned up,” John sighed, slotting a bookmark into his book and laying it on the windowsill.  “Yell later, clean now.  I’ll help.” So much for not dealing with Storm Scott, Virgil thought.

Scott snapped from wavering at Gordon’s tears, and shooting death glares at Virgil, to fix John with a surprised look.

“You are my favourite brother,” he said, whole-heartedly.  “Why did Mom and Dad ever give me more?”

That stung, a little, but then Scott ruffled Gordon’s hair, shook his head at Virgil with a small smile, and headed out the door with the blond boy still attached.

Hoping that meant Scott wasn’t too mad, after all, Virgil followed, finding a smile of his own as Scott realised Gordon was still covered in paint… which meant his own clothes were now covered in paint.

[ellie-scribble]

She’s So High

A Bucky x Reader fic written for @littledarlinhavefaithinme‘s Sebastian Stan Summer Song Writing Challenge. I had the song She’s So High by Tal Bachman

Summary: Bucky like you. Like, really likes you. He thinks the world of you, but he knows he will never be on your level. Until you ask him out.

Warnings: Fluff + angst

Word Count: 2480ish

A/N: i had a little trouble writing this, but i hope it’s okay. i used the song as a sort of baseline for the story, not in it necessarily. my tag list and requests are open. the gif isn’t mine but damn is it ever hot

When you first joined the avengers, Bucky didn’t know what to think. You had been first recruited to SHIELD due to your uncanny ability to sneak into places, hack computers, and overall being a good, well, spy. You were basically Natasha Romanoff without the badass backstory. That was, at least, until you were captured.

During one of your missions, your partner agent was shot, and had to retreat. You, however, kept going with your mission to acquire HYDRA secrets. You were copying the flash drive when a group of men attacked you. They took you down with a single shot of some weird advanced alien tech gun.

That was when the experimenting began.

After about 3 months of being HYDRA’s lab rat, the Avengers finally were able to come and rescued you. Only, you had changed. The experiments that HYDRA had done altered your DNA. You could manipulate light. Any kind of light. Which was pretty cool. 

Tony Stark seemed to think so, too, so he requested that you join the team. Well, not so much requested as demanded. But you were stoked, so it didn’t take much persuasion. You got along with most of the team, Steve was kind, Tony was almost a father figure for you, Sam was your pranking buddy, and Nat and Wanda were your source of estrogen in a sea of testosterone. Bucky Barnes, however, was another story. 

Ever since you were first introduced to the Avengers, you felt like Bucky was avoiding you. Which sucked, because you happened to have a huge crush on him. Whenever you tried to talk to him, he froze up, and left the room as soon as possible. You thought it was because he hated you, but in reality, it was quite the opposite. 

--------

When Bucky first laid eyes on you, he knew he was a goner. He never really believed in love at first sight, but this was definitely a close second. When you walked into the compound, practically glowing, he forgot what he was thinking about before. When you introduced yourself, your voice was more enchanting than any melody he had ever heard, 40’s and today. 

You were, quite honestly, perfect. Which was why he had to keep his distance. He couldn’t risk the chance of ruining you. 

It always shocked him when you talked to him. Why would someone as good as you talk to the likes of him? HYDRA’s plaything and the Winter Soldier. So, he froze. 

Every. Damn. Time. And when he finally unfroze, instead of talking to you, he left. 

He only confided in Steve with his dilemma. 

“She’s so perfect, Steve. What could I ever give her?” He complained one day. Steve had always listened to what he said, and his response never changed in the four months he’d been asking.

“Just talk to her, Buck. She just wants to spend time with you, but all you ever do is turn her away. She thinks you hate her.”

“Hate her?” Bucky’s eyes grew wide with fear. “How could anyone hate her? She- she’s-”

“Perfect, I know,” Steve said with a roll of his eyes. “Just go for it, Buck.” With that, Steve got up and left Bucky alone in the living room. The TV played in the background, but Bucky wasn’t paying attention. So, when you walked in, he was taken completely off-guard. 

--------

Today was the day that you decided to man up and ask Bucky to hang out sometime. When you woke up in the morning, you were originally going to find him right away, but you chickened out and went to the gym instead. After sparring with Nat (losing to Nat) for about an hour, you went to the kitchen to get something to eat. You probably should have just showered in the gym, but the shower in your room was much nicer. When you walked into the kitchen, you saw the one person you had wanted to see sitting in the adjoined living room. 

You knew you should have showered. 

“Hey,” you started.

--------

When you spoke, Bucky was startled, which shouldn’t have happened, considering his super-hearing, but nevertheless, he sprung up off the couch. 

“H-Hi.” Dammit, he thought. He was already losing his composure. To be fair, you were dripping sweat in those damn short shorts and a sports bra, and it was the hottest thing he’d seen in a while. He hated himself for thinking these things, but he couldn’t help it.

You were unbelievably attractive even straight from a workout. If he ever saw you dressed up, he would probably faint on the spot.

--------

You knew he was probably disgusted by your sweatiness, but it was now or never.

“Um, so there’s this new restaurant opening tonight in Brooklyn. I was wondering if you maybe wanna go?” You were so nervous. You were probably shaking like a leaf, and he could definitely hear your heartbeat fluttering. You almost fled the room right then and there, not being able to face it if he said no. Your mind raced, and little did you know that his did, too.

--------

Bucky barely heard the words that were coming out of your mouth. The only reason he knew you were talking to him was because he could see your lips moving and his heart was racing. His heartbeat was deafening in his ears. It was almost as if he was hearing double.

“What?” he croaked. Curse his voice for cracking now. He hated himself for not knowing what you said to him, but his mind was focused on so many other things at the moment. First and foremost why you were talking to him. 

“New restaurant in Brooklyn. Opening. You- me go?”

--------

Fuck. You nearly face-palmed at how stupid you got around him. Why was this so difficult?

“Stark said he could get us a table, all we had to do was ask. So, would you want to?”

There. That was better. Now, all he had to do was say yes. You begged whatever god was listening that he would say yes. You had already planned an outfit and gotten your hopes up way to high for them to be shot down.

--------

Was- was she asking me out? No. She couldn’t be. It must be a misunderstanding. She must have asked other people to come, too. Yeah, that sounds right. 

“Sure. What time?”

He needed to know how much time he had to mentally prepare for a team dinner. Yes, he saw them almost every day, but a sit-down dinner where all there was to do was talk and eat? No thanks. 

“Tonight, around 7. Is that good for you?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you then.”

“Great.”

--------

You were mentally screaming. You had just asked Bucky Barnes out on a date. Successfully. Now all you had to do was get ready, and mentally prepare yourself. You walked back to your room and showered, spotting your dress you had picked out for the evening laid out on your bed. 

While showering, you pulled out all the usual pre-date stops. Hair treatment, shaving, face mask, and your rose scented lotion afterwards. You couldn’t help humming to yourself as you rubbed your newly softened legs.

--------

Around 6, Bucky went to Steve to see what he was wearing for the night out. He didn’t want to be too casual, but he also didn’t want to wear a tux when he didn’t have too.

“Hey Steve?” Bucky called through his door.

“Come in.”

Bucky walked in to see Steve in sweatpants sitting on his bed watching TV. He wondered to himself why he wasn’t getting prepared for the night ahead of them. Even if it wasn’t a mission, Steve always got prepared hours beforehand, in case anything went wrong.

“What are you wearing for tonight?” At this question, a look of confusion washed over Steve’s face.

“What’s tonight?” 

“Dinner. At that new place in Brooklyn? Y/N asked me to go earlier. The whole team is coming,” 

“She didn’t say anything to me,” Steve replied, his brow furrowing in confusion as he did. 

Bucky was confused, to say the least. Why hadn’t you invited Steve? He thought you were on good terms. Maybe you just didn’t want to hear about what the dessert would do to your body, or how unhealthy everything was. It still didn’t make sense, though.

“That's weird. She asked me in the kitchen a little while ago. I thought she would’ve asked everyone else by now.”

Steve’s face morphed into a look of realization.

“Buck, did she say she was asking the whole team?”

“Well, no, but I just-”

“Assumed?” Bucky was interrupted by Steve’s question. Well, not so much a question as a statement. Steve knew Bucky better than he knew himself at some times. 

“Well, yeah. I mean, why else would she ask me?” Steve made no sense sometimes. Why would you, of all people, ask just him to dinner?

“Bucky,” Steve said, shaking his head, ”She asked you on a date.”

Bucky stood there, shaking his head. It couldn’t be true. There was obviously some sort of misunderstanding. Steve didn’t get it. You were on a whole other level above him. You would never go on a date with him.

“No. She didn’t. I know she didn’t.”

“Maybe you just don’t want it to be a date.” Steve gave Bucky a look that he didn’t know how to take.

“Why would I not want it to be a date? I’ve liked her since she came here,” he replied. He remembered the day very clearly. It was the last day of June, and it was raining outside. He only knew it was raining because Steve forced him to go on a run. After he had showered, he went to the briefing room, where Tony had called a meeting. He said he wanted to introduce the newest member of the team, Y/N. You used to be a SHIELD agent, but after a few developments, thanks to HYDRA, you could literally manipulate light. You must have been doing that when you walked in, because you were glowing. Or, maybe, Bucky just saw you as you were. But to him, you were definitely glowing.

“You tell me.” Steve was not yielding. He just wanted Bucky to acknowledge the fact that even though he wanted to be with you, he was scared. Every good thing he had was taken from him when he was with HYDRA, and he didn't want to lose you, too. He thought that if he kept you at an arm's distance, HYDRA wouldn't use you against him. After saying this, Steve got up and left, leaving Bucky in his room to think. 

--------

You were in the kitchen, ready, at 6:30 when Steve walked in. You were huddled over your computer, looking at the menu to decide what you wanted tonight. You liked to do this ahead of time so that when you got there, you didn't have to awkwardly ask for a few more minutes from the waiter.

“Hey,” Steve said. You looked up from reading what was in the Gnocchi Alla Panna. It sounded pretty good from what you were reading, but it was red pasta, and you always spilled when you ate. Plus, this was a new dress and you didn't need to ruin it your first time wearing it.

“Hey. Do you know where Bucky is?”

“Yeah, we were just talking and he has no idea what to wear for tonight. Should I tell him you’re wearing a dress?” Steve raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh. Is he really nervous? We could always cancel. Maybe it's best if we don’t-”

“Y/N, stop.” At the sound of Steve’s “captain” voice, you stopped rambling. “Yes Bucky is nervous, but rightfully so. This is his first date since 1945, and- and he really likes you. Don’t tell him I said that.”

As Steve walked out of the room, you pondered what he said. You knew that it had been a while for Bucky, but you hoped you were close enough that it wouldn’t be nerve wracking for him to talk to strangers. It seemed he was even more nervous though, because it was you. 

Now that you were thinking about it, Bucky did seem to always be flustered around you. You had always attributed it to Bucky being Bucky, but now? You wondered if it was more. 

All these thoughts were floating through your mind when Bucky walked through the doorway of the kitchen. Your breath was suddenly sucked out of your lungs. 

Bucky looked good.

You had seen him in a tuxedo before, at the many events that Tony insisted on holding, and he looked nice, but out of place. He looked like he would rather be infiltrating a HYDRA base than wearing a suit at a gala. But now? He had never looked more like Bucky.

He wore a white button-up shirt with black jeans, and of course, his leather jacket. His hair was combed back and his beard had been trimmed. All in all, Bucky looked hot.

--------

Bucky couldn’t even think when he walked into the room. 

The light blue dress you wore matched the color of his eyes and he couldn’t help but think it was on purpose. As you turned to greet him, he couldn’t breathe. You were gorgeous. He suddenly forgot all of his dates in the 40’s because you outshone them all in this instant. Perfect didn’t come close to describing you in this instant. 

“Hi,” you say with a huge smile on your face. 

“Hi,” he replied. His heart fluttered at the simple greeting. He really was enamored with you. After a couple moments of stillness, he realized he should do something. He took your arm in his and steered you towards the elevator, faking all the confidence in the world. In reality, he was unbelievably worried about everything. He was most likely sweating all over, and even someone without super senses could feel his heart speeding away. 

But, he was happy. Truly happy. For the first time in a while. Yes, he enjoyed spending time with Steve and Natasha, hell even Sam wasn’t so bad sometimes. But with you, it was different. He could finally be himself. Not the fake old Bucky he pretended to be around Steve. Not the badass soldier he acted as with Natasha. And definitely not the child he became when he was with Sam. But himself. He could be himself around you. 

You brought out the best in him. You made the clouds disappear. You turned everything he hated about himself into his best qualities. You made him feel wanted. And, yeah, that scared him, but with you, he was willing to try. 

So, he dropped the fake confidence, and became the person you made him into.

The Bucky that you had unknowingly come to love.

--------

a/n if you liked this, please let me know! i love reading the comments and love all feedback, positive and negative. i am also looking for a beta reader if anyone is interested. love you!

taglist

@deep-sea-glitter @irl-valkyrie 

[ashsilla]

Losses (Part Three)

Book: Platinum

Ship: M!Raleigh Carrera x MC (Suiko Hono) with hints of M!Avery x MC

Rating: T

A/N: A charity event brings every major player in the game under one roof: Suiko, Raleigh, Avery, and a special guest to add extra drama for the headlines. Suiko struggles with her conflicting feelings as she interacts with Raleigh for the first time since the fight...

Tag List: @lunalixo @furiouscloddonutpeanut @lovedrakewalker @topsyturvy-dream @padfoot0415 @omgjasminesimone @parkerattano @cordoniasmost @poor-bi-choices @msjpuddleduck @mallorycortez @coffeebeandragon @lizeboredom @perriewinklenerdie @greek-elsa

Other Parts: PART ONE - PART TWO

*

Zadie jerked Suiko’s shoulders. “I said, keep your head straight,” the stylist snapped, speaking around the pins jammed between her lips. How she managed not to cut herself, Suiko would never know.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” She met her own eyes in the mirror. Zadie had really outdone herself for the charity gala tonight. It was an event to bring attention to climate change, and clearly that had been the inspiration for her dress.

It was full length and dark green silk. A sweetheart neckline cut across her collarbone, where a vintage emerald and pearl necklace settled. The sleeves wrapped around her upper arms, ringed with gold. The bodice of the dress pulled in tight on her waist, embroidered with beautiful gold gilded leaves and sewn with pearls. The leaf designs flowed down the full skirt of the gown, creating the illusion of a cascade of foliage and precious gems towards the floor.

It might be the loveliest dress she’d ever worn.

Currently, Zadie was adding finishing touches: pearl earrings to match her necklace, hidden pins to hold back the elegant barrel curls of her hair, an extra dab of blush on each cheek.

Suiko really, really wanted to be excited about the fantastic outfit. But all that hung in the back of her mind was the fact that Raleigh and Avery would be at the gala. In the same room.

It was a terrible thought.

She caught Zadie’s eye in the mirror, and the other woman gave her an impatient answer-my-statement-please look.

“What?” Suiko said stupidly.

“I said, when you’re on the red carpet, hold out the folds of the dress so the cameras get a look at the embroidery,” her stylist answered shortly. “You’re even spacier than usual. Trouble in paradise?”

“Just...” she trailed off. 

Zadie sniffed. “Yeah, I know. Raleigh and Avery and all of this angst and shit. At least that means the pictures of you will be posted everywhere for sure.” Catching Suiko’s eye again, her tone softened slightly. “If you need to hide during the event, I’ll help you.”

“Thanks,” Suiko mumbled. 

The door to the room swung open. “Your date has arrived,” said a familiar voice.

Avery stood in the doorway, smiling softly. Only a shadow of his black eye remained, but that thought disappeared from her mind when she took him in completely. It was immediately obvious that they had been styled to match. He was wearing a suit of green just one shade darker than her dress, a matching tie with golden embroidery similar to hers, and a pin inlaid with pearls.

They looked like a couple.

Sensing her hesitation, he gave an apologetic nod. “Fiona’s idea.”

Suiko could feel Zadie’s eyes on her. Waiting to see her reaction. “It’s a beautiful set,” was all she said. It was worth it. Zadie actually smiled.

Avery stepped forwards and offered her his arm. “Our ride awaits,” he announced, thickening his accent in a cartoony way.

He was trying to cheer her up. And why shouldn’t she let him?

Suiko stood and looped her arm through his. “Thank you, Zadie,” she said.

“If you stain it, I’ll kill you,” Zadie replied cheerfully.

The ride was Avery’s limo. As they approached the vehicle, the window rolled down to reveal Hank. When he caught sight of them, he let out a loud gasp and removed his sunglasses. 

“Is this what it’s like to send your daughter off to prom?” he asked, and dabbed at his eye with his sleeve.

“I don’t think most dads drive the limo to prom,” Suiko answered, clambering into the back. Avery followed her, helping all of the fabric of her skirt make it safely into the limo.

Hank smiled fondly. “Lucky you!”

They began driving. Avery handed her an empty glass. “Care for a drink?”

Suiko considered. When Raleigh’s face popped into her head, she quickly decided on champagne. Maybe if she was a little tipsy when she got there it would be easier to navigate the situation.

Avery filled their glasses. She’d had three by the time they pulled up to the venue. A pleasant warmth had taken up residence in her chest, and her nerves were delightfully fuzzy. The world was softer and brighter. Avery somehow smelled better.

Fantastic!

He helped her out of the limo, like the gentleman he was, and then took her arm as they walked onto the red carpet.

Immediately they were swarmed by cameras and recording devices. Avery’s hand tightened on her, something steady to hang onto amidst the craze.

“Suiko! Suiko!” A particularly aggressive reporter shoved to the front of the mob. “Is Avery here as your date tonight?”

“We shared a ride,” said Avery smoothly, and cast a winning smile.

A different reporter jammed a recorder into their faces. “Have you and Raleigh Carrera finally split? What do you have to say about him?”

Suiko blinked. She didn’t even know the answer to that question. How would Fiona want her to answer? “I’m excited for everyone to hear the new single he’s dropping this week,” she said brightly, and grinned. “I love it. Once you hear it you’ll love it too!”

There. They could chew on that. That little, unsatisfying answer.

“No more questions,” Avery cut in, and led her off of the carpet and into the banquet hall where the event was taking place.

It was a beautiful old building with arching ceilings and marble columns and murals and huge windows inlaid with stained glass. Crystal chandeliers cast light across the dinner tables and the dance floor. 

Everything was lovely, but all Suiko saw when she stepped through the entrance was Raleigh.

He was leaning against the bar on the far side of the hall. His dark hair was freshly washed and adorably tousled. That crimson suit he wore fit him perfectly...garnet slacks and a matching vest over a fine dark gray shirt embroidered with black roses. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to expose the tattoos gracing his forearms.

Then his head lifted and his eyes met hers.

They were both frozen, staring at each other. Raleigh blinked, and his feet shuffled, like he was about to walk over, and Suiko didn’t know if she’d kiss him or slap him when he got close enough.

And then she saw her.

That blonde girl from the EE! News article and pictures -- Leona Lastrum. She wore a skintight black dress with a snakeskin pattern that clung to each curve. Despite herself, Suiko felt a wave of insecurity wash over her, suddenly felt so childish with her narrow hips and small chest.

Then the anger and hurt hit her so hard her vision went white. Raleigh didn’t bother to call, and then he went ahead and brought Leona Lastrum?

Avery followed her line of sight. “Oh,” he said. “Suiko, I --”

“Can you get some drinks for us?” Suiko said, and didn’t recognize her own voice. It was so cold.

“Um...sure. What do you want?”

What would get her drunk the fastest? “Something strong,” was all she said, because she didn’t actually know.

Avery slipped away and Suiko ripped her gaze away from Leona Lastrum, away from Raleigh, away from the two of them completely.

The headlines from the past week flooded through Suiko’s head again, so quick and fast that she almost heard them.

Suiko Hono -- from sweetheart to homewrecker! How she went from rising star to Raleigh’s other woman.

Raleigh Carrera’s newest two-timing scandal forces silence between him and Suiko Hono.

Every piece of evidence that Raleigh and Suiko are broken up for good!

Avery Wilshere and Suiko Hono reportedly dating in wake of Raleigh Carrera cheating scandal.

It made her shake with anger, with embarrassment and mortification. The way that she’d sort of trusted Raleigh. The way the tabloids made it sound like she was the cheater. That she’d thought any of his affections had been remotely real. What a fool she was, to have thought that their PR relationship had grown to something more.

But no. The whole time, he’d been going back to some girl in his free time, and not even bothered to mention it to her. Some small part of her had hoped that it was untrue, but here he was at the gala, standing there with Leona.

She was physically trembling now. Suiko bunched her hands into her dress, ignoring Zadie’s directions to be careful with the fabric, and tried to take a deep breath.

A hand landed on her back and she jumped. “Just me,” Avery said, and slid a drink into her hand. It was light pink and smelled fruity. And strong.

“Can we sit down?” she asked in a small voice. 

He brushed her hair back. “Of course.”

They found an empty table and Avery pulled out her chair for her. Suiko collapsed into the seat and took a long sip of the drink. “I thought it wouldn’t be true,” she said into the top of her glass, fogging it up.

Avery placed a gentle hand on her back, rubbing soothing circles into her skin. “I didn’t expect him to bring her like that,” he said, and his voice was low with anger.

“Suiko, can we talk?”

She turned slowly, so slowly. It was Raleigh. Of course it was him. The whole party was orbiting around him.

Avery tightened his arm over her shoulders. “I don’t think so,” he said coldly.

Raleigh’s hands, at his sides, clenched into fists. “Get your hands off of her,” he said back with equal ferocity. “What I need to say is between me and her, not me and you.”

Around them, the room was falling silent. Everyone was watching. Waiting. Anyone with eyes could see that Raleigh and Avery had unsettled business. 

Not this again. She would not let them fight again, and especially not here.

“I’ll be fine,” she told Avery, and stood. 

Avery frowned but didn’t object. Raleigh led her out of the main room, into a darkened hallway. Apparently that wasn’t secluded enough, because he spent a long moment picking a lock on a door off of the hall. When it swung open, they went inside, letting the door shut behind them.

It was what looked like a storage room. Shelves ringed three of the walls, each crowded with boxes and crates. The space left for them to stand was small, so small.

Suiko crossed her arms. “What.”

Raleigh’s face fell with surprise, and something else. “Are you really mad at me?”

She stared at the floor next to his shoe. “Well, from what I’ve seen, I have a reason to be.”

He was silent. Then she felt his hands, calloused and familiar, slipping carefully around her waist. “Let me explain everything.”

Suiko finally looked up. His face was so close to hers. Those dark eyes she knew so well were wide and earnest. “Okay,” she said into the tiny space between them. 

When he spoke, his breath ghosted across her lips. “After...that night. I was trying to figure out if my PR team had anything to do with it. So I looked back into my past appearances. She had been at some of them, but I never talked to her Suiko, I swear. So I went to my manager.” His hands tensed on her waist. “He said that our relationship was getting ‘stale.’ That we needed a new element. So they’ve been paying her to talk to the press and follow me around.” Fury laced his words.

She closed her eyes. “But Raleigh,” she murmured. “It’s...have you even seen what the media is saying about me? They’re calling me a homewrecker. A whore.” A couple of hot tears stung at her eyes, and spilled out onto her cheeks. 

“And if I could kick all of their asses, I would,” vowed Raleigh.

“But you can’t,” Suiko replied hotly. “And for some reason, instead of setting the record straight, you’re letting them tear me apart, and you’re bringing her to events with you --”

“I didn’t bring her!” Raleigh exploded, a little too loud. He seemed to realize and lowered his voice. “I mean...my team told me to. I refused. So they sent her an invite of her own.” His face soured. “But I won’t give them the satisfaction of going along with it.”

“Then tell them,” she said, and hated that she was begging. “Tell them all that she lied, and that I...that I’m not...”

Raleigh lifted a hand to stroke her cheek. “I will,” he promised. “I just need some time. I’m trying to work something out with my team.”

Suiko shifted away from him, making his hands fall away from her. “Thanks for explaining.” She felt cold and shivery all over. “I’m going to go.” Her hands closed around the door handle.

“Wait,” Raleigh said, sounding confused. “That’s it?”

“The last thing I need,” Suiko said, suddenly furious, “is the paparazzi to find us in here together, and say how I’m still driving a block in your picture perfect relationship with your other girlfriend. Avery is waiting for me anyways.”

At the mention of the blonde pop singer, Raleigh stiffened. “What is it between you two?” His voice was deadly.

Suiko’s mind flashed: Avery, throwing a punch at Raleigh; the bouquet of peonies that had been sitting on her doorstep; him holding her hand and accompanying her to events. “I...don’t know.”

Raleigh flinched like she’d slapped him. “You either want him or you don’t,” he said. “Which is it?”

“Why do you even care?” Suiko snarled, angry that she didn’t have an answer. Everything was so confusing. “You and me? We’re not even really dating!”

“Because I do care!” snapped Raleigh, seething. “I fucking care, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? Tell me. That day he was in your apartment. In...in your bedroom. What was he doing there?”

The intensity of his words, of his expression, scared her. “Raleigh...I thought we were just pretending.”

Hurt lanced across his face. “Were you just pretending? All this time?”

Suiko’s breath caught. He was actually waiting for her answer. He cared what she would say.

“Only at first,” she whispered.

There it was. Everything, all laid out on the table. They both stilled -- her hand still poised on the door’s handle, him stiff and alert.

Then, before she could even think of another thing to say, he had pushed her up against a shelf of boxes and was kissing her.

He was everywhere. His lips moved desperately against hers, his hands running over the silky bodice of her dress, his cologne’s smell invading her senses. Suiko could barely breathe.

And then she kissed him back. 

Her hands lifted, wrapping around the back of his neck. She slid her fingers up into his curls, having missed their softness, and he let out a soft groan against her mouth. Then he nipped at her lower lip, and her mouth was opening under his.

The door to the room swung wide open.

Avery stared at them, surprise swirling in his blue eyes. “What...” he said, and his voice broke off.

Then a camera flashed behind him, and the sound of footsteps raced towards them.

Suiko froze.

Oh no.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Getaway

Summary: when Daehyun springs an island getaway on you, you’re too busy having fun making memories with him to realise there is an ulterior motive to why he took you away on a holiday right now.

Pairing: Jung Daehyun x reader

Genre: fluff / a little bit of angst?

A/N: so I find it really beneficial heal through the written word. This is another one of those moments. Some of the facts shared in this story are from my own personal life, though I know I’m not the only one to suffer from loss and grief. Mine just unfortunately falls on Daehyun’s birthday so here we are addressing some of it! I hope you appreciate this storyline even with the personal addition to it, and enjoy celebrating Daehyun’s birthday with me! I love this man more than anything else in this world.

Word count: 1889

You stirred when you felt soft kisses upon your neck, your eyelids still heavy against the world, yet you rolled your head over on the pillow so he could have more access.

Daehyun chuckled, the vibration of the gesture against your skin sending a shiver down your spine. Must he sound so delicious first thing in the morning?

His lips painstakingly moved up to your ear before he said, “You have two hours to pack.”

Wait, what?

Sitting up with a start as your boyfriend moved away, you blearily stared at him now placing clothes into his luggage trunk. “Where are we going?”

Daehyun pointed to his empty spot beside you and you turned to see a brochure for an island getaway there instead. Blinking, you leafed through it slowly and then glanced back at Daehyun. “You're kidding?!”

“Do you think I would go to the extremes of packing my own luggage just to trick you?” he asked with a hearty laugh and you gave him a look that only made the joyous sound increase. Pausing his current packing task, Daehyun climbed back onto the bed, reaching for your body and pulling you into his embrace. “I booked everything whilst you were asleep and let your editor know I was stealing you for a week. Everything is ready except you so you need to get up and start moving. We need to be at the airport in just under three hours, and now you have one hour and fifty minutes to pack.”

“We’re really going there?” you questioned in disbelief and Daehyun nodded. “What’s the special occasion?”

“Can’t I escape this dreary wintry weather with you without having a reason?”

You grinned, dashing over to the wardrobe to start sorting out what to take. You didn’t have a second to waste.

It didn’t seem real to wake up with an endless view of the vast blue outside of your beachfront villa but as you stirred from your slumber, you were compelled to pull yourself out of the plush bedding and pad over to the large balcony. Sliding the door open, you stepped outside, amazed by the sight before you. You didn’t know how the locals of this island could start their day without getting lost in the natural beauty all around first. You were certain you could spend all day gazing at this view and not grow bored of it.

Smiling when you felt arms slide around you from behind, you leaned back into Daehyun’s chest as he nuzzled into you. He let out a little huff. “Why did you leave me?”

“I saw the sea. It was already magical last night when the clerk led us over here but waking up and seeing it in daylight bewitched me.”

“Mmm,” he mumbled into you, kissing your shoulder gently. His grip tightened around you and you playfully slapped his arm with how he was choosing to remove the remnants of his slumber. “Maybe the view bewitched me too. You looked like a goddess standing over here just now.”

“I hope you don’t plan on spending the majority of this holiday exploring my body in this bedroom, Daehyun,” you stated disapprovingly, sighing all the same when his lips moved over a sensitive patch of skin. Your head naturally rolled back onto his shoulder with his touch and you cursed yourself for easily falling into the realm of desire he had opened up.

“Of course not,” he replied matter-of-fact, littering kisses in between his words. “But I definitely need to explore you before we head out onto the island today.”

After your sensual start to the day, you went out to see the sights the island bolstered. You walked, you swam, you hiked and you canoed. There was so much to see and do that the next four days were full of activities during the day, grand dinners at night with social festivities and dancing finishing off the hours of the night. You slept exceptionally well, fully rested to rise for another day of adventure with Daehyun.

It wasn’t until you took a quiet day off from travelling around the island exploring that you realised what the date was.

Today was Daehyun’s birthday.

How could you have possibly forgotten your partner’s birthday? You had been with him for years now, and his birthday was hardly a day you could ever forget. It hadn’t been the easiest finding out that the day Daehyun would celebrate each year was one you had learned to mourn over the year before you met him. It was always a troubling time for you yet you never wanted to let Daehyun feel underappreciated either. It wasn’t his fault your father had died on his birthday, and so each year you went overboard to make the day special at least for him.

So how did you forget it this time?

You had been swamped with work, but you recalled starting your birthday planning the day before Daehyun had whisked you away on this getaway. It meant you hadn’t yet picked up all of his special surprises, though you did have his present safely hidden in your at-home office. All the same, not a single day since you had been here had you thought of his birthday, and guilt immediately washed over you for having such a great time being spoiled by him and not linking this special trip as a birthday getaway instead.

As the morning progressed, you retreated further into your mind, worrying over how to make today special enough with the little amount of time you had to prepare something within. You could make something happen for dinner, but it wouldn’t as spectacular had you realised the date yesterday instead. You cursed agreeing to being device-free whilst here and for not even looking on your camera at the date either.

Daehyun picked up on your frantic internalising and after breakfast, he suggested a walk along the beach, allowing you to ruminate for only a few minutes longer before he let out a heavy sigh. “What’s bothering you today?”

“I’m fine,” you lied and you knew he didn’t buy it whatsoever. You grimaced. “You noticed, huh?”

“How could I not? You haven’t been laughing nearly as much as you have every other day this week. I was hoping to hear you laugh the most today, actually.”

You nodded slowly, trying to squash down your ever-present remorse. “Did you plan this trip for your birthday?”

“No, I planned this all for you.”

“For me?” you repeated, confused by his statement. “But Dae-”

“Do you think I don’t see how difficult this time of year is for you every year? I know you try not to let on that my birthday is hard for you, and you really go all out to spoil me. I appreciate your efforts more than anything, you know?”

You couldn’t answer, the lump forming in your throat blocking your ability to speak. You attempted to smile though and Daehyun stopped walking, pulling you towards him so he could wipe away the first tear that tumbled from your eyes. He blinked back his own emotions, pressing on with a wide smile instead. “Every year though, you hide this side to you. When you think I don’t see it, I find you hiding away sobbing alone. As if you don’t feel it’s okay to be sad today too. It really is okay to be.”

“No, I don’t want to be sad on your birthday.”

“But it’s not just my birthday, is it?” he replied and you sniffled, nodding slowly. You still couldn’t understand how you had gotten so lucky to meet someone with such a beautiful and caring soul like Daehyun, but you always believed that your father had sent him to you now that he was gone. To protect and cherish you in his stead.

Daehyun was the most selfless person you knew.

“I wanted us to have fun this year. Away from the usual schedule, leaving the forced smiles and brooding hours behind us. You needed the fresh salty air, the wind in your hair and my hand in yours to remind you that every day is precious and magical. You are the most genuine and relaxed you’ve ever been around this time of year on this holiday. I don’t regret choosing to do this, even if it meant you forgot what today is.”

“You are too much, you know that?” you told him, resting against him and wrapping your arms around his waist securely. You hoped your embrace would show Daehyun just how grateful you were to have him in your life.

You knew he was close to crying now; the way he was breathing was a tell-tale sign. He managed to talk through it still. “I wanted to remove your burdens this year. That was what I wanted for my birthday. And I succeeded. But now that you’re like this, just remember today you can cry in front of me. I’ll catch all your tears. And I promise I’ll try to make you smile just as much as you have all week long. Besides, your Dad would want to see that smile today the most, wouldn’t he?”

You gripped onto his shirt, allowing the first wave of your emotions to crash upon him, Daehyun holding onto you, the anchor within your storm. He was right; it really was freeing to allow yourself to be this emotional in front of him today. When your tears stopped falling, you stared up at Daehyun, a watery smile crossing your lips. “Happy Birthday, Daehyun. I love you.”

“Love you too,” he replied, kissing your lips gently before grinning. “I have to admit, I’m pretty impressed with how I handled this. I did well huh?”

You giggled. “Very well. I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Lucky enough to marry me someday?” he wondered and you froze, unblinking in your gaze up at him. Daehyun’s smile faltered as he noticed your stuck expression.

“Wait, I-”

“Are you proposing right now? Because if so, the answer is yes.”

“Well, I was… well, uh… shoot.” Daehyun rubbed a hand through his hair at your sudden reply and let out an awkward laugh. “I wasn’t exactly proposing, Y/N. I don’t even have a ring.”

“I don’t care about a ring, I have you.”

Daehyun stared at you intently. “You’ll marry me?”

“Of course I would, there’s no one else better for me. I mean, who else plans something for their partner on their own birthday? Of course, I want to marry you.”

“Really?”

“Really!”

Daehyun slowly grinned, a shocked, elated laugh leaving him. “I wasn’t expecting that you would be my birthday gift this year but you can’t take it back now. Ring or not, you just agreed to be my fiancé.”

You laughed genuinely and noticed the smile on his lips was the biggest you had seen all holiday long. Daehyun had definitely succeeded with all of this, allowing yourself to embrace all the emotions of this day was better than trying to plan it out and avoid it.

And whilst you would always honour your emotions of the loss of your father, you now had an extra anniversary to celebrate with your fiancé. You were certain you would smile more every single year at Daehyun’s side on this special day.

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