#his lips look just a bit off. might wanna change up the jagged edges too

[cloudbattrolls]

on one hand I want to open comms. on the other hand I want to finish arty's vtuber design and Thrixe's sprites.

[amelialincoln]

Something Good Can Work

Amelia was notoriously a light sleeper. To her frustration, Link was not. Instead, he was usually restless, dreaming about who knows what. She’d ask him about the dreams every couple of weeks, trying to force something out of him that he was obviously set on burrowing deep inside. Thus, she was always unsuccessful which resulted in many sleepless nights, as her boyfriend tossed and turned beside her. Since Scout had been born she sometimes questioned if she even slept at all. Every little sound jerked her awake and she’d find herself standing in the doorway of Scout’s room, pleading that he was still sound asleep in his crib or, as he’d grown older, his new twin bed. And he always was, with his mouth slightly agape and his little brown curls jutted out in a halo around his head. She’d triple check that the baby monitor was on and working, press a gentle kiss upon her son’s head and finally make her way back to the shared bed, where Link was probably radiating like a furnace.

Her nightly checks on Scout became a bit more obvious as she grew with their second child. At around six months Amelia lost her ability to be light on her feet, to the point where even her heavy sleeper of a boyfriend would be able to sense her trying to sneak out of their bed. He’d pull her back towards him, wrapping her up in the warm, familiar embrace, that she had become reliant on, and tell her that everything was all right. After deciding that telling him about the slight creak that came from the hallway (which was most definitely an intruder coming to take their son) was a bit delusional, the nightly routine had come to cease and forced herself to stay put as the curtains swayed and the refrigerator hummed. She knew the increasing paranoia was centred around the masked man that had come into their family store when she was young but the whole thing seemed like a lot to put on Link, so she chose to keep it all inside. Much like her boyfriend, with his own silent nightmares.

Amelia was awoken from her light sleep that morning by the slight dip at the end of their bed. Their mattress was already so unbalanced by the contrast in weight between her and Link that any added pressure would cause the bed to creak and grind along the back wall. She shot up, trying to mask the look of shock on her face as she met Scout’s grinning expression.

“Happy Mama’s Day!” Scout cried, holding out the makeshift card that he must have worked on at preschool the day before.

“Thanks, baby,” Amelia tried to hide the shake in her voice as she awkwardly pulled him up beside her, allowing him to cuddle up to her swollen abdomen. Link stood in the doorway, holding a plate of their favourite pastries from the bakery down the street, watching the exchange with slight concern.

“You slept well,” he remarked. “Didn’t even stir when I got up.” He’d begun to notice the lack of sleep that she’d been getting over the course of her pregnancy, with him becoming more and more cautious of her health. Amelia nodded as she read over the jagged but carefully cut out flower petals, each containing a letter of her name that contained an endearing word that Scout associated with her. “Long, huh?” Link chuckled, peering over her shoulder. “That’s a good one, Scout.”

“L words are hard,” Scout pouted in response. “I couldn’t think of a good one.”

“It’s good, bud,” Link laughed. “I think that one might be better for my name though. I don’t know if you’d be here right now if your Mom wasn’t so obsessed with how long I am,” he smirked at Amelia.

“Link!”

“Yeah, you are pretty tall. A lot taller than Mom. I guess she isn’t that long.” Scout shrugged, staring at the card with a pondering expression on his face. “I think love for L is a better one now. Can I go change it?” He asked.

“Of course,” Amelia responded, glaring at Link who was still suppressing laughter. “But you did a perfect job, okay? Your Daddy is just being silly.” Scout nodded, gripping the card with his pudgy toddler hands and running out of their bedroom. “You’re unbelievable.” Amelia shook her head as Link placed down the platter of baked goods and carefully lowered himself down to sit at the edge of their bed.

“You say that after you asked for sex as your gift for Mother’s Day.” He chuckled, placing a couple of soft kisses on her forehead and lips.

“I’m hormonal,” Amelia whined, biting into the croissant that Link handed to her. “And you made him feel bad about his card, which was great.”

“You’re absolutely right,” Link shook his head, his eyes casting down to the muffin he was picking apart. “Amazing, magical, exciting, long, ice cream and awesome is exactly how I would describe you too.” The grin on his face was full of amusement. Amelia shook her head, suppressing a smile as Scout came bounding back into the room with his revised card. Amelia placed it on her bedside and allowed her son to crawl into her lap and nuzzle into her chest. Scout, tuckered out from the excitement of waiting patiently for Link to allow him to wake up his mother and presenting his card, fell asleep almost immediately, small snores radiating from his mouth.

“You okay, Mia?” Link asked, pushing a fallen strand of hair out of her face as he watched her stare absentmindedly at their sleeping boy. “You seem a little out of it.” Her ocean blue eyes raised up to meet his as she snapped out of the daze she was in.

“Just tired,” she gave him a small smile. “It’s weird to think that next Mother’s Day there will be two of them.”

“Maybe even for Father’s Day,” Link grinned. Amelia nodded, pressing a hand to her stomach as their little girl rolled lazily inside of her.

“You guys walked down to the bakery this morning? I didn’t know they were open this early.” She glanced at the bedside alarm clock which read 6:45. Mornings in the Lincoln apartment were almost always early.

“We went late last night while you were still at work. We were going to just get donuts for dessert but we ended up picking up some stuff for breakfast as well,” he explained, ruffling Scout’s shaggy brown hair as he stirred in his sleep.

“You walked? Our neighbourhood isn’t the best place to be just walking around late at night, especially since Scout tends to bolt off the minute you're not watching him and go chat up strangers. I was talking to Mrs. Hudgins on the third floor and she said that two men tried to mug her on Friday. She was lucky that that guy, Kevin, in the lobby saw it happening because he came out right away. I don’t think that--”

“We drove,” Link interrupted her, watching the worry start to melt off her face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Amelia shook her head for the second time before leaning back against the bed frame. “I’m just worried that once the new baby comes I won’t be as alert if he runs off because I’ll be pushing the stroller. Or if I’ll be too preoccupied with getting her out of the carseat and won’t notice if someone comes out of nowhere and grabs him…” she trailed off, glancing at Scout who was shifting uncomfortably as Amelia had stopped playing gently with his hair. His girlfriend sighed as she dropped her previously gesturing hand back atop their son’s head.

“Hey, if it’s worrying you this much we can start looking for other places,” he assured her, placing a warm and comforting hand on her knee and shifting closer to the pair of them.

“I’ve looked a bit,” she admitted. “You know how much I like going on those real-estate websites and looking at houses just for fun." She shrugged as her smile faded. "I just think that moving would be stressful right now and I can’t help carry boxes or be on my feet all day packing. Even if we were to move after the baby’s born I’ll still be in postpartum for awhile and if I tear or anything I’ll be in recovery for a bit.”

“Well, it seems like you’ve given this a lot of thought.” Link shifted on the bed, trying to read her expression.

“I have lots of time to think about it when I’m up all night,” she tried to joke and just received a more concerned look from him. “I’m kidding.”

“Yeah, I know,” he avoided her gaze by glancing down at Scout. “We’re running late so I can drive him today.” Link pulled the protesting toddler up and into his arms.

“But it’s Mother’s Day. I wanna be with mom!” Scout shrieked, causing Amelia to wince. “Mommy, please,” he cried, as he met his Mom’s teary, hormonal expression.

“It’s okay, honey. It’s time for school but I can pick you up and we can go to the park to play,” Amelia answered, trying to keep her voice level and ignoring Link’s sympathetic gaze as tears threatened to spill from her eyes at the sight of seeing him so upset.

“Promise?” Scout mumbled as Link lingered in the doorway.

“Promise,” Amelia confirmed.

She was always shocked by how little time it took Link to get Scout ready for practically any occasion. They were out the door in five, locking it quickly and Amelia watched out the window as Link pulled out of the narrow parking garage with ease. Scout grinning from ear to ear as she watched him connect his phone to the bluetooth of their car and undoubtedly play Scout’s favourite song, which funnily enough was Better When I'm Dancing by Meghan Trainer. Amelia and Link usually couldn't help but suppress their laughter when he continued to request it every time they were in the car.

She lingered in bed for a bit longer. Her third trimester had her energy levels at an all time low. She could barely make it through a shift at work now. When she was pregnant with Scout she worked until she basically went into labor but the second time around Link would often find her passed out in on call rooms or her office when she was at the hospital and would have to practically drag her home. Eventually, she made her way into the kitchen finding a colourful bouquet of tulips and hydrangeas with a small written note from Link and the rest of the bakery goods on the island. The note contained a long and neatly written paragraph about how amazing of a mother, and a wife, she was along with a quickly scribbled message at the bottom, probably written last minute this morning, saying he had to go check up on a patient at the hospital quickly after dropping Scout off but would be back to spend the rest of the day together in an hour. They’d talked about getting married a lot but, after four years of being together and the wedding talk beginning to fade, Link had just begun to call her his wife, despite them not getting around to actually getting a marriage license. She’d already had her big fancy wedding once so it wasn’t a big deal to her; however, she wanted Link to have the same and knew that someday they would get around to at least having one themselves. She also died at the idea of Scout being their ring bearer and maybe, if she was old enough, their little girl being the flower girl.

[][][]

Link checked his watch for the thousandth time in what seemed like a singular minute. He had promised Amelia they’d spend the day together and had even asked for the day off to be with his pregnant girlfriend, who had been spending more and more time away from work as her pregnancy progressed. Apparently Nico had screwed up and had accidentally made a false diagnosis on a trauma patient so Link was there to do damage control and try to talk a patient into not deciding to sue the entire hospital.

“There’s not much else I can say to them.” Link stepped out into the hallway where an angry Bailey and a sulking Nico were waiting. “The mistake was fair, I might’ve done the same as a fellow. It’s just shitty that it happened to a lawyer who knows a lot more about the law than I do. In that case, I don’t really know why you called me in…” he glanced at his boss, “respectfully.”

“Well, considering that--”

“Dr. Bailey,” he interrupted, itching to get back to Amelia. “There’s nothing more that I can do here. Nico made a mistake. It happens all the time. As doctors we aren’t perfect but it ended up being an easy fix. The guy is an ass, he’s looking for money but in the end this hospital saved his life so what happens from now on is out of our hands.” To Link’s surprise, Bailey nodded.

“Alright, thank you for trying, Dr. Lincoln. Tell Shepherd to have your baby, we need her back. Too many stupid mistakes are ruining my hospital. Shepherd doesn’t make mistakes.” She glared at Nico before leaving the pair, who shrugged. Link nodded to his fellow with a hint of annoyance by his attitude before making his way into the elevator and glancing at his phone which had lit up with his girlfriend’s name.

“Hey, babe. Sorry I’m just heading out now, what’s up?” He pushed the P1 button and waited for his girlfriend's response.

“Link,” the panic in her voice was evident.

“What’s going on? Is the baby okay? Are you okay?” He answered quickly, ever since the scare they’d had a couple months back about a possible placental abruption the pair had been on pretty high alert, he prayed to god that everything was alright.

“I-I think someone’s trying to break in,” she answered with ragged breaths. “Someone is fiddling with the locks. I can hear them and I don’t know what to do. I don't know w-what to do. I...I love you.” Link sprinted out of the elevator as the doors opened to the underground parkade.

“Did you call the front desk? They can get to you quickly and call the police. Where are you?” He practically launched himself into their SUV as his phone connected to the car’s speakers and sound of Amelia’s uncontrollable fast paced breathing filled his ears.

“I’m in our room. I don’t know where to go,” the noise of her escalating panic attack was cut off as he heard their apartment’s door open through the phone.

“Amelia?” There was talking from the other end for a moment before her voice returned on the line.

“H-Hey, I’m sorry, it’s the apartment maintenance guys coming to fix the ice maker. I didn’t hear them knock so they thought we weren’t home and let themselves in. I’m sorry, I thought…” she trailed off and Link’s head fell forward in relief, allowing the wave of nausea that was clouding over him, at the idea of someone harming her and their baby, to pass. “Link, I--”

“It’s okay," he exhaled, "I’ll be home in a sec, okay?” He willed the sound of his own distress to be hidden by the crackling of the phone from the lack of service in the underground parkade. “Just try to calm down, Amelia. We don’t want you going into preterm labor,” he tried to keep his voice light. “I’ll be home soon.” The phone call ended as he steered out of the parking lot and out onto the highway. When he’d bought the apartment he didn’t have any thought about whether it was "kid friendly" at the time. He hadn’t even thought about the idea of sharing it with anyone else. It was the perfect place for just himself. With nice enough neighbours and not too expensive for the amount of space. He’d definitely thought about moving after Amelia had moved in and again after they’d had Scout. But like everything else in their life, including the wedding they always used to talk about, work came first and they never seemed to have the time to search for a new place.

[][][]

Upon arriving home he found Amelia curled up on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket, still visibly shaking. She burst into tears as he entered the apartment and burrowed her face in her hands.

“Babe, come here,” he sighed, pulling her into his chest and wiping tears off her face with his thumb.

“I’m sorry for overreacting,” she faltered, allowing herself to finally relax into his arms. “It’s just I didn’t hear them knock, I was napping on the couch and then I woke up to the door handle rattling and it sounded like someone was picking the lock and I got so scared I couldn’t--”

“Breathe,” he reminded her, rubbing protective circles on her back. “It’s okay, Mia. As long as you’re both okay.” He watched her face change as she was reminded of the condition she was in.

“She wasn’t moving f-for awhile.” She sputtered as she followed the breathing pattern he was setting for her. “But since you’ve been back I can feel her again.”

“She just missed her Daddy,” Link smiled softly, placing a hand on the underside of her stomach and trying to distract her. “Scout’s definitely a Momma’s boy so it’s only fair this one likes me better.”

“Scout does not like me better.” Link watched her breathing normalize as her mind was filled with the thought of their son. “You’re the one who takes him to get donuts after I say no.”

“And what does he say every time I bring him and you’re not there?” Link asked, watching his girlfriend grin. “I want to bring one back for Mommy.” He mimicked Scout’s adorable pleading voice. “Speaking of Scout, he probably needs to get picked up soon.” He glanced at the clock. “Do you want me to go grab him?”

“It’s okay I’ll go, I promised him. It’s raining so we can’t go to the park but I can tell him that we’ll make a fort when we get back.”

“Are you sure you’re good to drive? You still look a bit anxious. I can come with you?” He offered, taking her cold hand into his and bringing it to his lips. She shook her head, standing up slowly with the help of his hand guiding up her lower back.

“I’ll be fine, it’s only a couple of blocks,” she assured him. “Can you make him lunch for when he gets back? He didn’t have a very big breakfast.” She noted as she absentmindedly soothed a spot on her abdomen and reached for her coat.

“Of course,” he confirmed, stepping up to help her. “Call me if you need anything.” Even though today was a false alarm he couldn’t help but feel an added sense of worry that came with her being by herself but he didn’t want to scare her with his own unease. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[][][]

Scout was visibly upset by the lack of visit to the park as Amelia secured him into his car seat. He gripped tightly onto the bouquet of wildflowers he picked at recess to add to his father’s preexisting bouquet of flowers that sat in the kitchen before he handed them to his mother, as she finished clipping him into his car seat.

“Getting big,” a voice from behind her made her jump. She turned to find Scout’s teacher from last year getting into the parked car beside theirs. “When are you due?”

“Next month,” she answered lightly. “On the sixth.” She smiled at Scout before shutting the door and climbing into the front seat to avoid getting any wetter.

“We’ve seen a lot of Atticus around,” the teacher continued. “Scout mentioned that you were feeling sick a lot?”

“Mostly past that now,” she glanced back at Scout who was nodding and shook her head with amusement. “His father just usually picks him up on his way back from work now since I’m on maternity.” The man nodded, giving Scout a quick wave who returned it excitedly.

“Well, it's nice to see you around again, I definitely miss having Scout in my class. Have a great rest of your day,” he replied before pulling out of the parking lot.

“You miss your mom picking you up?” Amelia smirked into the rearview mirror at Scout who was still happily smiling to himself about receiving some appraisal from his teacher.

“Nooooooo,” Scout giggled. “You just talk to the other moms for so long it means I get more play time.”

“Right,” she laughed.

[][][]

Amelia pushed open the door to their apartment and watched Scout launch himself into his father’s arms, out of breath from climbing the stairs. The two stared back at them, with the same happy grin that was the one trait in which Scout had adopted from his father.

“My handsome boys,” She laughed, as they both wore an adorable blush. “What did Daddy make you for lunch?” She asked as Link set him down in his highchair which they still used considering that Scout was the squirmiest toddler and had adopted his mother’s ADHD.

“Grilled cheese!” Scout announced happily, doing his little food wiggle. Link chuckled, setting down the plastic plate on the highchair and receiving the high five that Scout was attempting to slap him with.

“Hey, I have something to show you,” he whispered, guiding Amelia over to the couch gently and pulling her into his lap. He quickly typed his password into his laptop and clicked on one of the open tabs.

“Link…”

“It's a five bedroom. Which I know is super big but Maggie always says that you wanted four kids.” He rested his chin on her shoulder as he watched her face flicker with surprise. “But if we don’t want that anymore one...or two can be guest rooms.” She shushed him, motioning for him to keep clicking through the photos. “It’s got a big backyard and look at the master bathroom. You always talk about wanting two sinks right? Cause I’m so messy. Isn’t it nice?” He teased, she nodded soundlessly. “And here’s the kitchen.” She let out a little gasp. “That’s big enough for a family of six, huh?” He let her look through the rest of the photos, biting the skin on the top of her thumb as she looked. “It’s like a ten minute drive from Mer’s.”

“Link, this is way out of our budget and look, it’s already sold,” she muttered, lingering on the photo of the bedroom that had been staged as a nursery. Link could practically feel her hormones raging.

“Do you like it?” He asked tentatively.

“I mean of course, it’s perfect.” He let out a sigh of relief.

“I was hoping you’d say that cause people were bidding and we were going to lose it. So I kind of bought it.”

“You, what?” She spun around to face him.

“Happy Mother’s Day?”

“You bought a freaking house for Mother’s Day?” Her eyes were wide and teary.

“Yeah, that might have been a bit of a stupid decision to make on my own. I’m realizing that now,” he bit his lip uncomfortably.

“Thank you,” she finally managed to say through tears, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him in as close as her baby bump would allow. “I love it. Thank you.”

“I just was in a position where if we put an offer in it would’ve been sold and I got Jackson to facetime me and walk around in it because they were holding an open house and he lives nearby. I’m sorry if you’re freaking out a bit.”

“I mean a bit. When do we move in? I’m not going to be much help.”

“First of June,” he watched the wheels turn inside her head.

“We’re moving in a week before I’m due?” She exclaimed, glancing around at everything that was going to be needed to be packed away. “Link.”

“I know...but it’s going to be fine. Maggie offered to help and I’ll handle everything, okay? I talked to Bailey and she’s going to give me some time off to sort through everything.”

“Okay…” she replied hesitantly, staring at the photos of their place again. “Is this even real? Aw, Link, look at the swing set in the back. Maybe she’ll be a movement baby like Scout and I can swing with her outside while he plays.” Her eyes rested on Scout who was continuing to demolish his lunch.

“And the hammock in the back corner, did you see that?” He answered excitedly. “We can lie in there together when it gets warmer with the kids.”

“It’s perfect,” she said in awe. He leant back in relief, her words obliterating all his fear and looked over his shoulder at his son, who was licking his leftover smoothie off the high chair surface.

“Hey bud, what do you think of a swing set?”

“For me?” Scout exclaimed, his eyes widening with excitement and turning to his mother for confirmation. Amelia nodded, laughing at the reaction that their three year old was displaying to them.

“You did good, babe,” she squeezed his hand gently with a hint of pride. “You did good.”

[moonyandsaturn]

Seven

yet another dorlene oneshot based off of my favorite song on folklore <3 its also on my here on my ao3

“Hello.”

Dorcas turned around from her spot to see who might be talking to her. Summer break was coming to a close shortly and she was determined to spend it away from her disastrous family. Family as in her new baby brother who snagged all the attention.

Dorcas truly didn't understand it. Here she was the first born 11 year old daughter. Smart, bright, and beautiful, now being overthrown by a baby who cried at absurd times like three in the morning. So here she was in the nearby forest taking time to herself.

Her family lived in a small community. Her backyard was surrounded by a rain-rusted fence that was basically falling apart. Behind that was an empty and barren land, the most interesting thing she found there was a rolly polly that she gave the wonderful name of George. If you kept walking a little you would come to a small crowd of trees that ran for maybe 4 miles. It's there where a little creek ran. The last time Dorcas visited, there was a rickety swing tied with old rope to a tree branch. If you swung high enough, Dorcas was sure you could swing right across the creek. She thought about it but left the thought behind seeing how it wasn’t her swing.

“Hello? Are you deaf? That's cool, I’ve never met a deaf person before.”

Dorcas finally turned around to see a girl around her age sitting right on that swing. It must be hers, Dorcas thought.

“I’m not deaf.” She started and then continued with curiosity. “Is that your swing?”

“No. Found it here.” The blonde replied. Dorcas could guess that she was a bit shorter than herself. She had shoulder cut dirty blonde hair but not dirty blonde as in a light brown. It was quite literally dirty. Dorcas had to resist the urge to dust the dirt out of her hair. She wore long jean shorts that looked much too big for her body and an even bigger t-shirt that was in a pretty purple color. Her cheeks were splattered with freckles. Actually, her whole body was covered in freckles. Her face was sort of pinkish, it looked like she had been running but somehow it complemented her dark blue eyes that were overlapped in the middle corner. Dorcas’ eyes didn't do that, hers were simply black as was her braided hair.

“Well, why are you sitting on it if it's not yours?”

“Why not? No one else is here to tell on me.” She held her head high. “Are you gonna tell on me?”

“I don't even know you. How would I do that?” Dorcas responded.

The girl jumped off of the swing and walked over. “That's unfortunate, I’m fun to know.” Closer now, Dorcas could hear her lisp caused by braces. She went on. “I’m Marlene.”

“I’m Dorcas.”

“That's a weird name.” Marlene stated plainly.

“It was my grandmum’s name. And Marlene isn't such a pretty name, you know.”

“You’re not very nice, grandmum.” Marlene pouted.

Dorcas wanted to roll her eyes but knew if her mum was here to see her do that she’d get a spanking so instead she changed the subject. “Aren't you actually gonna swing on that.” She pointed to the swing. “You were just sitting on it.”

“No.” Marlene answered plutantly and then her face perked up. “Are you?”

“No.”

They didn't talk for a minute but for some reason Dorcas didn’t feel the need to leave.

“You should.”

“If you're not swinging on it, why should I?”

“Because I’m scared of falling into the water,” Marlene told her. “Are you scared of falling into the water?”

“No.”

“Then go swing on it!”

“... Fine.”

Marlene smiled as if this was her biggest victory ever.

Dorcs held on to the ropes on either side of her body tightly. She bent her neck forward to see how far the creek was from her. She planted her feet behind the swing and pushed herself forward.

“Go higher!” Marlene cheered.

“Shove off, will you?” Dorcas shouted back.

1 foot high.

The swing fell backwards again and Dorcas caught the ground and pushed off, surely kicking some dirt into Marlene's face. Or maybe not because Dorcas couldn't hear a reaction from her.

2 feet high.

At her highest now she was face to face with the little whole in the tree across the creek. She could feel her braids bounce against her back. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, she could hear the beads at the end of her braids clank together melodiously.

3 feet high.

“Hey!” Dorcas laughed at Marlene’s yelp after getting dirt in her eyes. She went to sit crossed legged next to the swing instead of behind it. Dorcas could feel that she was rising to an altitude that was a little shorter than her own height. She was nearing the edge of the river but wasn't worried about it.

4 feet high.

The sun broke through the leaves of the other trees. Dorcas squeezed her eyes together to block it out. It wasn't all that efficient cause when they were closed she could see the vibrant orange color searing into her eyelids. It was just her and the fading sky now.

5 feet high.

Dorcas could see Marlene resting her cheek and the deep shadows caressing her features and the sun searing its golden sheen onto everything from her dirty hair, the wrinkled purple shirt, and the shorts that were now also covered in dirt from sitting on the bare ground. Dorcas wondered if she looked half as good as she fell back to the ground.

6 feet high.

The cool air was nice but the creek threatened her with its seemingly calm presence. At her peak she was exactly above it. It was shallow with many crooked and jagged rockets on the edges. She could see the sun glittering its surface. The water was so clear that she could see all the little pebbles and coins at the bottom.

7 feet high.

“That's my limit.” Dorcas announced as she was having some trouble stopping the darn swing. It kept going back and forth and she couldnt dig her heels enough to stop it. Marlene jumped up and grabbed one of the ropes to steady and halt it.

Dorcas slowly got up. They didn't say anything to each other at first.

“I probably got to go home.” Marlene said, her head hung as if it was a shameful thing to say.

“That's okay.” Dorcas clearly didn't know what to say. “Where do you live?”

“Clairmont Road.”

“Well, that's much too far!”

“Only a mile or two in that way,” She pointed West.

“I know but it's gonna be dark soon.”

“Yeah but my dads gonna want me home to wash the dishes.” Dorcas could have sworn that Marlene would say he’d want her home for dinner but didn’t dwell on it.

“My mum makes good homemade tomato soup. We got fresh tomatoes in our front yard. Grew them ourselves. You wanna come with me?”

Marlene didn't look at her. “Maybe.”

“Up to you,” Dorcas shrugged, she decided it was about time for her to go home as well and started walking North.

Marlene jogged up to her quickly as if it was a natural reflex. “I’ll walk you there.” She said, “Then I’ll go home.”

“Okay,” Dorcas turned her head and smiled as she got one in return.

It was nine in the evening (the longest her mum has let her stay up) when Marlene left to go back to her home. And that was only after a nice bowl of tomato soup and sweet tea that Dorcas’ dad had gotten at the store that day. Marlene made Dorcas promise not to tell her dad that she stayed with them that evening. Dorcas even went ahead and crossed her heart. Her dad seemed not so great or that's what her mum said when she overheard her talking to her dad about it that next morning.

On September first, Dorcas was loaded onto a train with other 11 year olds to go to her new school. Dad told her that he had saved up for it just for her so she could get the best education out there. Dorcas promised that she’d do her very best. She left crying quietly after a kiss from both parents.

The next summer, Dorcas didn’t meet Marlene again. She was hoping to tell her all the new things she learned at boarding school and how she had turned 12 and according to her teacher that means she's a big kid now. Dorcas wanted to tell her about the weird tube thing she looked through on the school's roof in which she was able to see all the way to the Moon and to Saturn.

Two summers after that Dorcas walked by Clairmont Road on her way to her boarding school friend’s house. She could hear screaming from a large black house. One voice was a gruff one that must have belonged to an adult. She also heard a woman shriek. It gave her goosebumps on her arms. The muffled voice of someone smaller was heard after that. She couldn't tell what they said because of the strong lisp they had. When she heard both the woman and the smaller person scream was when she ran out. She swore that she’d never go past Clairmont Road again. It was clearly haunted.

Her friend from school had an annoying older sister. Though Dorcas couldn't blame her. She’d be annoying if her name was Petunia too. Lily on the other hand offered to help with her summer reading homework. Dorcas also got to meet Lily’s friend, Remus, who was quite nice even though he was quiet. She sort of felt bad for making fun of his name now and constantly calling him Wolf-Wolf.

Right before Christmas break in her fourth year Dorcas had her first kiss. It was quite awkward actually. She had no clue why they were standing in the middle of the hallway while having it at each other's lips. While that wasn’t what she wanted from her (hopefully) first romance, it told her what she needed to know. She clearly liked girls. And not always like a friend. She didn't know whether it was just girls or if it was any gender but she thought that when she finds the perfect person she won't need to worry about any of that.

In her fifth year Remus transferred over and somehow became friends with James’ group. James was the guy that had been pining after Lily since second year. Lily constantly talked about how annoying he is but Mary told her that she caught Lily staring at James while he was at football practice. Mary, Emmaline, Remus, Sirius, Peter, and herself all made a bet about when the two would get together. On the other hand Sirius seemed quite taken with Remus who was completely oblivious. It was hilarious sometimes. Who needs the telly when you have dumbass friends like these, right?

The summer before their seventh year reality hit Dorcas so suddenly. Her childhood would be over so soon. She was going to be 18 in December. Luckily the land, that was now filled with wild weeds, behind her house was a wonderful place to scream at the world. She screamed for her childhood friends. She screamed for her parents who were growing older and her brother who just turned seven years old in July. She screamed for no reason at all because there was a pent up force of want in her that she just couldn't name. Like someone's face that she couldn't recall.

James and Lily were caught in the middle of a fiery snogging session behind the greenhouses after the Christmas break. Dorcas owed Emmaline, Peter, and Mary ten dollars that night. They graduated on the 4th of June of 1978. The picture of them all in their blue gowns fit perfectly in her wallet. Mary insisted on piggy-backing on Dorcas for the picture, Dorcas wasn't so sure Mary would ever grow up. She envied her slightly because of that. Lily was resting her head on James’ shoulder. Peter and Emmaline were making finger guns at the camera with plastic sunglasses on the tips of their noses. Sirius and Remus were sitting in front of them, leaning against each other. Remus finally got the hint (kinda) after Sirius kissed him.

Dorcas smiled at the memory as she walked into her first class at the one university she got into. She took her seat in the back next to a blonde girl with hair cut to her shoulders. She was reading a book called Cheating Your Way Through College For Dummies. Dorcas laughed and the girl looked up and removed her sunglasses that were covering up her freckles.

“You saw this?” Dorcas could see that one of her teeth was missing. She hoped it was because she accidentally hit something and something didn't hit her. She thought it was cute though. Her appearance, not the hitting, of course.

“Um, yeah. Sorry about that.” Dorcas responded.

“Don't be,” she smiled. “This is how I got through high school too.” She held up the book and laughed. “I’m Marlene.” Something gleamed in her dark blue eyes as she said her name.

Dorcas smiled slowly. Perhaps she could recall her face.

“I’m Dorcas.”

[blackbirdmuses]

Storm || Monologue

Heavy, black clouds hung over the skeletal trees at the edge of Halloween Town. Darkness swiftly descended and the first roll of thunder boomed in the distance. Storm sat on the roof of the treehouse, watching the horizon with expectant green eyes. There had always been something about encroaching tempests that had relaxed him. While his mother jolted at every flash of lightning, Storm stared up, wide eyed as the sky filled with jagged light. Perhaps it was because he was born during a colossal, raging storm, or maybe it was his namesake, but he’d always held an affinity with gloomy weather. He would nestle himself among the broken slates, pressing himself to the hollow base of the dead tree, then, he’d wait patiently for the first droplets of rain to fall from the weighted heavens.

However, something more than an anticipated downpour had coaxed Storm to his perch on the roof today. He’d had an argument with his twin brother, Thorn. It seemed as though, in their ten years of living, neither of them had ever had a very serious disagreement; until today. The boys had got into trouble over a piece of graffiti on the back wall of the Town Hall (a drawing that Storm had concocted) and, instead of taking his share of the blame in encouraging Storm, Thorn had placed all the blame on Storm and managed to escape punishment. Now, Storm would have to spend his entire weekend cleaning the wall by himself. The twins had fought, loudly shouting at one another and stomping around until Thorn had retreated to their bedroom and Storm had run for the rooftop. 

With his knees up at his chest and his hood firmly hooked over his head, Storm watched a bright flash illuminate the billowing clouds on the horizon.  “Stupid Thorn,” he muttered. “Wasn’t even my idea. Always getting me into trouble for nothin’.” 

He kicked a slate from the roof, watching it slide down the edge until it smashed on the ground below. With a huff, he heard a gentle scuffing sound behind him. It was probably Thorn, so he ignored it.

“Thought I might find ya out here,” That wasn’t Thorn’s voice. Storm turned around and looked up to face his father. The shadows dropped away from his sides and he leaned one arm against the dead tree. “Mind if I join you?”

Storm licked his lips and shook his head, shuffling aside to allow him to sit next to him. Now he was in for it. His father hadn’t been around when the Mayor had berated the twins for their graffiti, but he had assured the twins that he would tell him all about it when he saw him. Thorn hadn’t taken the threat seriously, but Storm had. Look who was right, he thought.

Oogie lowered himself into a seated position next to Storm, casting a glance towards him. “Ah,” he breathed, pointing at his hood. “Probably a good idea.”  Storm blinked, watching as his father scooped a hand down towards the shadow of the dead tree and swept it over his shoulders like a cape. When the darkness parted, a dark green hood appeared over his brown curls and covered his shoulders.

Against himself, Storm couldn’t help but smile. “Cool,” he muttered. Oogie looked towards their view. “Won’t be long ‘til that storm hits us, huh?” he commented. “Your mother will pro’ly want us to come inside before it starts gettin’ too close, though.”

Storm sighed, scratching at his hands. “I don’t wanna go back inside.” He could feel his father looking at him again. “That ‘cause of your fight with Thorn?” he asked him earnestly. Storm didn’t answer. “I heard ‘bout what happened today. You ain’t in trouble.” Storm blinked, turning back to him. “I’m not?”

Oogie shook his head. “I thought your drawin’ was pretty gruesome, actually,” he admitted. “Although, you pro’ly shoulda picked a different wall-” Storm shifted around. “That’s what I said! But Thorn wouldn’t listen! He said that wall looked too boring and needed kickin’ up a notch!” Oogie chuckled under his breath. “Well, it’s certainly a lot more vibrant now, that’s for sure. I like the colours you chose, neon green an’ red? An’ that skull with the snake comin’ out of it? You got a real gift, Storm.”

Storm smiled. He’d always hidden his artwork in sketchbooks before, just doodling in the margins of writing pages or on the corner of napkins. It had been Thorn that had noticed his talents and suggested the idea of street art, but after the Mayor and some of the townsfolks’ reaction, it had felt as if Thorn had encouraged him just to get him into trouble. Thorn had insisted that wasn’t the case, but Storm couldn’t help but feel betrayed nevertheless. “Does that mean I don’t have to clean it off the wall?” he had to ask.

Oogie heaved a sigh. “Afraid not, fella,” he confessed. “You kinda covered up an important notice board with ‘Boogie’s Boys’ an’ some folks ain’t very happy about that, but...I guess y’know that already.” Storm looked at his feet dejectedly. Off in the distance, the thunder continued to ominously rumble and lightning cracked through the clouds.  “I wish Thorn would listen to me,” he muttered. “I told him it was a bad idea...and now everybody hates me.”

“Hates you?” scoffed Oogie. “Storm, nobody hates you. All you did was upset a couple ghouls, but forget about ‘em! The Mayor changes moods as quickly as he changes faces an’ the other ghouls will have forgotten all about it in a week.” Storm sniffed. “I thought you’d hate me.” Oogie’s gaze softened. “Me? Why?” Storm buried his face in his knees. “Because...you’re friends with the Mayor and Uncle Jack and they were mad at me and that’d make you mad and then you’d hate me-”

Storm looked up as he felt an arm wrap around him, pulling him closer to his father. “Stormy, kiddo...” he breathed. “...I could never hate ya, okay? Never. You’re my son an’ I love you. One li’l’ badly placed wall doodle ain’t gonna change that.”

Swallowing thickly, Storm wiped his eyes and rested his head on the side of his father’s chest. Storm had almost expected his father to lose his temper and lecture him about how disappointed he was, as he had done on the couple of occasions where he and Thorn had almost fallen into the acidic vat of sewage or played among the - mostly - dismantled sharp instruments in the Lair. It had seemed as serious as that when the Mayor was huffing and puffing at him in town. 

“An’ you know someone else who could never hate you?” asked Oogie. “Thorn.” Storm pursed his lips and sat up straight, looking into his father’s eyes. “But, he deliberally got me in trouble, Dad!” Oogie hummed and shook his head. “I don’t think he did. I figure that Thorn really thought his idea was a good one, an’ when he saw you gettin’ in trouble...he panicked.” Storm frowned. “Thorn? Panic?”

Oogie leaned in, looking left and right before he whispered: “Wanna know a secret? Somethin’ that even Thorn’ll never tell ya?” Storm blinked, nodding enthusiastically. “He’s real scared of bein’ caught red handed when you guys set up pranks.” Storm’s eyes widened. “He is?” “Oh, you bet! An’ I should know, because I’m the-” “Boogieman!” hissed Storm, amazed. It suddenly made sense why Thorn was eager to ensure their pranks were quick, concise and failproof every time they set them up. Storm had always assumed that he was just being efficient, but this made a lot more sense.

“An’ I’ll betcha anythin’ that he was just as scared of gettin’ in trouble as you,” continued Oogie. “An’ I know for a fact that he’s real sorry ‘bout it, too.” Storm made a face, looking off onto the horizon. Rain was beginning to fall in the distance, making dark spots on the ridged grass at the edge of the moors. Against his frustration at his twin, Storm had to admit to himself that he was missing his brother. They were rarely ever apart for longer than a few hours, and it felt like much longer than that today. 

“I guess I could talk to him,” sighed Storm, watching the rain getting closer.  “Atta boy!” breathed Oogie, ruffling his hood and looking into the distance. “We should get inside real soon, huh?” Storm looked up at his father. “Think Mom’ll mind if we stay in the rain for a little bit?” Oogie returned his gaze to the approaching rain. “As long as neither of us catches a cold an’ we dry off when we get inside, I don’t see why not.”

“Thanks Dad.” replied Storm, lifting his face as the rain came thundering down upon the roof, soaking the two of them within seconds.  Storm broke into a peal of laughter and he could hear his father join him. Rain cut through his jacket and onto his t-shirt, weighing him down as the thunder roared above them. “Okay, let’s go!” shouted Oogie, wrapping an arm around him. Darkness covered them both in a blanket, and the next thing he knew, he was flopping into the sofa with his father sitting next to him, the sound of the storm far above them.

“That was fun.”

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Put Me In a Movie

Keanu Reeves x Reader (A/n- This chapter.....yeah, lets not get into it. Also, I don’t know if beach houses have garages, so please just humor that possible, tiny plot hole)

Summary Prologue  1   2   3  4  5  6 7  8  9

Warnings- Angst, again,

Chapter 10- California State of Mind

The not so distant crashing of waves against the populated shore acted as background music to their breakfast date. From where they sat, on the patio of the ocean side cafe, they could see the cool blue gleaming under the glory of warm yellow, while the white foam threading the tops of the waves merely appeared merely as thick, jagged bands of white. The scenic view was off to their side, her right and his left; rough, green hills, with sparse bursts of brown topped it all off, houses and vacation homes made to seem smaller with distance. The beauty of Malibu never failed to be absolutely breathtaking.

Y/n sat on the opposing side of the small, round table, the little, white china tea cup stationed on the matching saucer looked almost as delicate as Keanu thought she was. His eyes were fixed on her, and Keanu looked at her the way he always did, as if it were the last time. As if she'd change her mind about him at any given minute, and in an instant, he'd be left living a life void of her. It wasn't like he hadn't given her reasons to leave either, the holding back, the absence of in depth connection, it might have made any woman leave. 

But Y/n wasn't just 'any woman'.

She was-

"Look at that," Y/n pointed a thin, fragile finger past towards the distance, disrupting his thoughts. Keanu hadn't looked in that direction yet, not seeing what she had, but already, he was matching her bright grin. 

He shifted his gaze, but still couldn't quite make out what she wanted him to see, "What are you talking about?"

"That," Y/n turned in the wicker chair, folding one smooth leg under herself as she turned towards the wooden railing, guarding the deck, elevated off the shore. Y/n didn't give any further direction, to caught up in whatever she was seeing, eyes glittering with quiet joy, the morning heat flushing her cheeks and her smile gaping and breathless. 

After a moment more of searching, Keanu thought that he'd found what she was pointing at; a little spectacle on the beach, a group of performers doing a demonstration on the sand, surrounded by a small group of giddy spectators. "Do you wanna go closer?" Keanu leaned forward, taking her hand that laid absently near her tea, fingers curled in and long, manicured nails barely grazing her palm. Y/n's hand was easily engulfed by Keanu's, her tender touch contrasting his slightly calloused one. Awaiting her answer, Keanu regarded her with soft admiration and unspoken wonder, Y/n was a lot of things, beautiful, intelligent, interesting and for a while, his. 

For a while.

They hadn't brought up anything from the last week gone by, the confrontation with her father, their heart-wrenching dance at the bar or the oozing ache from the morning after. They never talked about anything that would constitute them being, in most respects, a healthy couple. Instead, Y/n and Keanu had somehow buried it inside themselves, he'd hid behind the mask of nonchalance and she'd taken up pretending that nothing of the sort had happened. It was better that way, or so he thought.

"No," she shook off his offer, finally turning to face him again. Bringing the elegantly detailed china to her full lips, she took a brief sip, before gently setting it back down and squinting her eyes at Keanu, "Why are you looking at me like that?" When she tilted her head, some of her loosened tresses cascaded down her shoulder, some of it brushing the "v" of her sparsely exposed cleavage, and the rest strewn over her bare upper arm. 

Huffing, Keanu quickly glanced away, hoping his growing out, salt and pepper scruff would hide the pinkness in his cheeks, "Looking at you like what?" He faced Y/n again, finding her penetrative stare still cast in his direction. He never wanted her to catch him staring like that. There was a lot that he didn’t want her to know. 

"I don't know," Y/n shrugged, just as a salty, cool breeze ruffled their hair, strands whipping at their faces. Unlike Keanu, Y/n scoffed quietly, fighting against it to shift her hair off her cheeks, running her unattached hand through it as the air settled again. Keanu kept staring through it all, not even realizing that his lips were still quirked in an absent, adoring smile. She really was stunning, in a soft sort of way, not too in your face, but certainly well above average. Keanu would often suspect that Y/n was only of those girls that children would gleefully mistake for a princess. Alas, he didn’t know any children, so the point was mute. “You never look at me like that,” Y/n eventually continued, and Keanu couldn’t tell, maybe it was the heat, maybe it was his stare, but there was a distinct, rouge, hue tinting the apples of her cheeks and the edges of her ears, making her matte, nude lipstick stand out and her eyes seem brighter.

Licking his lips, Keanu just shook his head, “I don’t-” He cut himself off when his ears caught their names in a conversation at a table not too far off. For the briefest moment, he glanced around, realizing that it was coming from a group of young girls were at a table, just a couple over, barely in earshot.

“Are they dating or something?”

“Oh my god, they’re holding hands, definitely.” 

“She’s so young though. Look at how old she makes him look.”

“Just hurry up and take a picture.”

Keanu didn’t have enough time for his reaction to be organic, and when he jerked his hand away from Y/n’s, she jumped, surprised and he hit his elbow noisily on table top, some of the wares clattering loudly, drawing some more unwanted attention. Clearing his throat, Keanu tried to act natural, ignoring Y/n’s probing gaze, “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” he loudly cleared his throat again, reaching into his pocket for his wallet, “Why don’t we go for a walk?” Keanu declared, not really giving Y/n any sort of room to politely decline or say that she preferred to stay for a bit longer before he was hastily chucking a generous amount of notes beneath his half filled coffee mug, certainly enough to cover their breakfast bill and then some. 

“Sure,” Y/n seemed weary, though still taking Keanu’s offered hand, which he quickly retracted when she stood, letting him lead her out of the cafe, his palm barely touching the upper part of her back.

Y/n couldn’t determine what had stirred it, but the change in Keanu’s behavior had been almost instant. He’d never had a problem with affection before that morning, but within mere minutes, there had been significant changes. Since he’d let her hand go at the quaint little restaurant, nearly a half mile back, he hadn’t dared to take it again and his had stayed at the center of her back, barely touching the skin left exposed by her flowing, white sundress and even with that, he’d been sure to leave some space between them. There’d been less distance between them when they were just friends. 

“What’s going on with you?” Y/n gently broke his thoughts, noticing his pensive stare cast towards the water as they strolled along the shore.

Shrugging, Keanu started swinging his other arm, the one where his hand held his shoes. The water washing the shore occasionally, more times than not, would reach their feet, the chill renewed each time it happened and the pull of the sand that followed each time was a little comforting. “You know,” he changed the topic, a clear indication that the matter wasn’t up for discussion, “Sunsets look great from up there,” he gestured to the hills, specifically to a little cliff in the distance that appeared to jut out, hanging over a sapphire depth, “I should take you some time.”

“I’d like that,” Y/n forced a smile, pretending that his reluctance to address the matter didn’t sting a bit. Nearly three months together, and still, he didn’t trust her enough to let her in? What were they doing anyway? Hesitantly, Y/n turned a bit as they walked, reaching up to peck his bearded cheek, her breath catching soundlessly when Keanu flinched. 

It was almost like he didn’t really want to be there with her. 

Blinking the ache away, Y/n sucked in a deep breath, her heart slowing a little when they reached a more secluded part of the beach, where there were still people, but not too much on the shore, most of them opting to ride the waves. Just up ahead, maybe about another mile and a half or so was where her father lived, his house among many of the other impressive Malibu properties. Maybe she should go see him when it was time for her and Keanu to part, they hadn’t spoken since he’d left her place after all. 

“I’m going to Santa Clara next week,” Y/n blurted out when the silence started to bear down on them, the weight of it hefty on her shoulders, though apparently going unnoticed by Keanu. 

“To see your aunt?” His glance directed at Y/n barely lasted ten seconds and it was only when they opted to perch themselves amidst a cluster of boulder formations on the higher parts, where they were dry, while the lower half was covered in moss and no doubt housed crabs and other little wonders of marine life, did Keanu seem a little more relaxed, snaking an arm around her shoulders and drawing her close, so Y/n’s head could rest in his side. It was confusing, the little, though obvious shifts, even if they’d just started. He seemed to turn on and off so easily. “You’re gonna spend the week?”

“I don’t know,” Y/n toyed with her loosely wringed fingers, twirling around rights and picking at her nails, “Maybe. Why?”

“Nothing,” Keanu quickly changed his mind though, and Y/n could have sworn that she saw him scoping around first, as if to ensure their privacy. “I guess I’d miss you,” he pecked the top of Y/n’s head, rubbing his nose into the scent of her coconut shampoo before pulling away. 

“You could come with me,” Y/n had no idea where the suggestion came from, but suddenly she was hoping he’d say yes. It was without motive, and foreseeable reason, though Y/n did think that it would be nice to take Keanu along, so he could see where she’d spent most of her teenage life and meet the woman who’d practically raised her after she’d begged to leave her mother’s house at twelve.

Keanu pondered on the offer, and already, Y/n knew his answer. They weren’t even exclusive, not really, and things were so tumultuous between them, it was the last sort of situation that you took home. She didn’t know why she’d asked anyway. “I don’t know,” he seemed to be in search of an easy let down, his whiskey pools still matching the water before them. Some of the surfers were starting to disperse, the refreshing morning sun now taking on a new intensity as minutes towards midday ticked on, “I’ve got a lot to do at Arch, and I still wanna spend some time with my sister and mom. I’m sorry,” he added, quite awkwardly, at the end.

Y/n, once again, tried to fake that ever popular, California nonchalance, the ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude. So what if he didn’t want to go? “It’s fine,” she waved the issue off, hoping the thickness in her chest was one she could soon easily swallow, “Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks baby,” he barely grinned empathetically, “Maybe next time.” 

Maybe there wouldn’t be a next time. 

For a while longer, they remained there, though things weren't as comfortable as they used to be. Even if that date was really intended as a way of bridging the gaping gap between them, it had only served to widen it. That morning, they were meant to push past everything that had happened in the past week, neither of them really wanted to talk about it anyway, but Y/n couldn’t help but think that it had significantly grown, and only in the matter of a couple hours.

Y/n was just letting Keanu help her off the rocks, stumbling into his chest as she jumped down. Surprised, he steadied her at the waist and she gulped thickly as they stared at each other, swallowing awkwardly. It took a minute, but eventually they both chortled quietly, reveling in the brief moment of normalcy. It was nice to, even for less than a minute, return to what they were before, whatever that was.

Clearing his throat quietly, he put some space between them, not much, but just enough for Y/n to notice, “Come on,” he turned, headed towards the way back, “I’ll walk you to your car.”

“Actually,” Y/n gently weaned her hand out of his, knowing that he definitely wouldn’t want to walk with her to Roger’s place, “I think I’m gonna go see my dad, his place is right up there,” she nudged her head towards the row of impressive houses lining the shore. Then after yet another strained exchange, Y/n and Keanu shared a cut-short goodbye kiss, and looking back once or twice uncomfortably, Keanu headed off.

When his figure grew small with distance, Y/n turned on her heel. Blocking out the sun with her free hand, Y/n dragged her lower lip through her teeth. She hadn’t been nervous about going to see her father until she’d actually begun the trek to his place, her feet sinking in the sand, making Y/n wish she could just be pulled under.

What was she supposed to say anyway?

That she was sorry for getting with one of his friends? That she was starting to think that he was right after all?

Neither seemed like a viable option, and anything that followed was in a similar respect. Everything was so complicated, and complicated was hard. Maybe it would have better if she and Keanu had just left things the way they were before, when they were just friends; friends that didn’t fuck. But now, it was too late. She liked him too much; the way he made her feel when things were good. It was incomparable, and it was all him. The laughs, his touch, how safe she felt when he held her. 

Maybe he was worth the bad times, and if he wasn’t, then did it even matter?

Taking a deep breath, Y/n’s already leisurely pace slowed as she grabbed the smooth, white-painted, metal railing. Much unlike her shaking legs, her heart quickened. Her palms felt sweaty, and suddenly, the sun seemed hotter than it actually was. 

Eventually, when she reached the front door, Y/n opted to push her finger into the little silver button, sounding the doorbell, rocking back and forth on her feet as she waited for someone to get the door.

But no one came.

It was strange, but only because Y/n could see his car in the garage, through the thick strips of blue tinted accent glass. Shaking off the first hints of gnawing worry, Y/n rang the doorbell again, twice, before sifting through her tiny shoulder bag for her keys. Getting the little bunch out, Y/n immediately singled out the spare to the house, inhaling nervously as she unlocked the door.

“Dad?” Y/n called tentatively upon entry, looking around and then straight up the stairs, finding no one in sight. "Dad?" Y/n called again, her tone peaked with curiosity when she heard a rustling coming from above. 

Half of her wanted to investigate, while the other argued against it, urging her to leave and only come back after a phone call. Though, it wasn't hard to decipher which half won when Y/n's palm made contact with the cool material of the railing, skimming it as she headed up. Instead of calling again, Y/n carried on, following the the muffled sounds, apparently coming from down the hall. 

She was near the end, finally about to call again, when, out of the master bedroom, came a woman, maybe a head taller that Y/n, long brunette hair interrupted by the first signs of grey. She was older, maybe mid forties, and just doing up the buttons of her pale blue shirt, long legs on display by a skirt that ended mid thigh. Y/n gasped softly, drawing her attention and jumping at the sight. "Who are you?" Were the first words that clumsily tumbled out of her mouth, which at that point could only work on instinct. 

"Who are you?" The woman’s eyes squinted in return, not willing to just give away her identity to some random she'd met in the hallway of a house that wasn't hers.

"I asked first," Y/n scoffed defiantly, straightening her back and folding her arms, "Wh- dad?" 

Was that what karma was? 

It certainly felt like it.

Y/n's jaw hung slack and all but dragged on the hardwood floor as her father came out of the bedroom, the same one the woman had just left. Buttoning her shirt. With a wrinkled skirt. And bed hair!

There was a lot of things of Y/n didn't want to know. That was definitely at the top of her list.

"Kiddo," he tried to chuckle nervously, though failing miserably and only barely managing a contained huff of surprise.

"You have a kid?" The woman's eyes went wide as she turned to Roger.

"I'm not a kid," rolling her eyes, Y/n could easily recognize that the matter of her maturity was the least of everyone's problems, but it still seemed like a worthwhile mention.

"I do," Roger placed a gentle hand of the lady's back and Y/n tried to not be too alarmed, since her parents' divorce, she hadn't really seen him with another woman. It wasn't like she didn't want him to move on, in fact, Y/n could spend hours nagging him about it. Her mother had been remarried twice since everything had been finalized, and meanwhile, Y/n was sure that Roger hadn't dated anyone seriously since then. "Annie, this my daughter, Y/n. Y/n, this is my friend, Annie." Friend, right. Reluctantly, Y/n took Annie's offered hand, shaking shortly before hastily retracting, stiffly returning it to her side. 

"It's nice to meet you," no it wasn't, not really. Maybe over dinner, where Y/n didn't have to know what she'd just found out; fine, but like that, not so much. "Dad," Y/n quickly refocused her attention, "If this is a bad time, I can come back."

"No, no," Roger huffed loudly, glancing towards the bewildered woman beside him, "Annie was just leaving."

"Right," she nodded vigorously, slightly shocked, her clear green gaze shifting between Y/n and Rogers's uncomfortably wooden forms, "I am. I'll see you around Rog," Rog? "And it was nice to meet you Y/n." 

Awkward.

Y/n watched as Annie hurried down the hall, waiting for the district sound of the front door being pushed shut, before turning to her dad, "Dad!" She scolded impulsively, "You just kicked her out!"

"What?" Roger scoffed incredulously, licking his lips and leading them down the stairs, towards the kitchen, "No I didn't. She was ready to leave anyway."

"Ugh," Y/n rolled her eyes dramatically, glad that the spot light wasn't on her and even happier that Roger seemed far more at ease than he'd been the evening he stormed out of her place. "You are so bad at signals. She was not, you should have asked her to stay." 

"Yeah, okay,  I was not going to do that," Y/n eventually relieved her father of a steaming mug of coffee, prepared just the way she liked it, easing down onto a stool on the other side of the counter, "Besides, you're here, so we should talk."

The one thing she was avoiding, even though she'd ventured to his house. "Yeah," Y/n punctuated with a lengthy sip of her scalding coffee, nodding astutely as she set it down with a soft thud, "I guess we should." After that, they both seemed to be waiting for the other to break the tense silence, and eventually, Y/n was the one speaking up, "I'm sorry," she laid out, thinking on the matter yet again, "I should have said something, about Keanu."

Agreeing firmly, Roger leaned down on the counter, facing the pushed in stool next to her, "Yeah, you should have," he sighed. "But you are a grown woman, and you can see whoever you want," he smacked his lips, trying to soften his next words, "Even if it makes me wanna punch him in the face."

For a minute, Y/n waited for him to continue, holding her breath for more, for a long list of reasons why she shouldn’t be running around with Keanu, a lecture about how there were great men her age who’d treat her right if she gave them a chance, and maybe another about how aimless dating didn’t really make sense. But it never came. “That’s it?” Y/n grabbed half of her lower lip, dragging it through her teeth, “No…..”

“No what?” He huffed a chuckle, shaking his head, “You want the dad speech?” He eyed her curiously, though Y/n didn’t offer a response, “Well, I’m not gonna give it to you; you’ve grown, and so have I. It’s like I said,” he sipped his coffee as punctuation, “I’m not gonna like it, but I can’t stop you either.”

At that, Y/n smiled, and quietly thanked her father for his acceptance, be it as hesitant as it was. Glancing down into her mug, staring that the creamy contents, she quickly found that the spurt of jubilation was very short lived, and already, she was once again baring the wear and tear of her complicated relationship as an unsung bruise. Sure, her father had done a little to clear her guilt, but that didn't change the fact that she and Keanu seemed to be falling apart at the seams.

"Everything okay?" Y/n jumped slightly when her father reached put, tapping her wrist. Though, she quickly perked up, and while it was a little difficult, Y/n found a smile ready to be offered.

"Yeah," she shook her head, hoping the troubles would just fall away, "Yeah, I'm fine dad," she reassured, masking her lie with another sip of her coffee. "So," with ever intent of chasing the topic, Y/n set the cup down, "What's going on with you and Annie?"

Cocking a brow, Roger just shook his head, pushing away from the counter, "Do you really wanna know?" 

"Eh," Y/n shook her shoulders absently, inwardly cringing of the thought of her father and some woman, whoever she was, "Probably not."

He hadn't meant to ice her out, to draw out visible hurt or to flip a switch just like that. They'd been having a good time, and for the first half of it, Keanu had gotten to thinking that things would be okay again, Y/n could somehow push past the ache of their ambiguity and he could gain some clarity on what exactly she meant to him. She meant something, he knew that much. 

But then he caught wind of what those girls were saying. 'Look at how old she makes him look.' Keanu hadn't really paid it much mind before, but after he'd heard the words, sirens went off in his head. He was old, and Y/n was still bursting with life; young and far too easily impressed. There were more years between them than she'd lived and her affections for him couldn't be more than the by-product of her obvious, though unchecked, issues. They both had issues.

He was reckless and lonely and she was desperate to be more than she'd deemed herself.

With a soft oomph, Keanu slouched into the leather chair behind his sleek glass desk in his office at Arch. He hadn't bothered to alert anyone of his presence, wanting to have five more uninterrupted minutes with his thoughts before his meeting. Staring blankly at his helmet, discarded carelessly near the edge of the top, Keanu could feel himself losing awareness of the environment around him, immersing himself in his thoughts the throb of despair consuming him. 

He didn't want to break up with her, at least  not yet. But he didn't know where they were going either. The good was great and the bad was painful. And even if Keanu wanted to pretend the gap between them wasn't there, the events of that morning had proven that he and Y/n couldn't exist in their little bubble of privacy forever; sooner or later the public would know, and Keanu was stating to wonder if the hell they'd have to pay would be worth it.

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited​  @paanchu786​  @thesadvampire​  @fanficsrusz​  @fickensteinn​  @ladyreapermc​  @babygirltaina​  @septimaseverina​  @snatchedbylele​  @omg-imagine @21stcenturyyfoxx​  @magnificentclodpiebanana @allie1804-fan @keandrews  @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx​  @danceoftwowolves​

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 7

i realized it’s been way too long since i updated this fic, and i have quite a bit of it on backlog while i work on more kiss requests and my piece for @mlwriterzine (surprise!!!!). so, why not drop another update?

enjoy!

[Read Chronicles on AO3]

because i apparently can’t catch a break

getting grilled by my own sister about CBG, AMA.

“So are you ever gonna tell me about this girl you keep thinking about?” Juleka asks him that afternoon while she’s tuning her bass and he’s scrolling his phone. “Or are you just gonna lie there, sighing wistfully and keeping your secrets like some young punk version of Gandalf?”

“Pretty sure Gandalf never sighed wistfully, and bold of you to assume he isn’t punk with that attitude.” Luka cocks his eyebrow at her from his bed, finally deciding to direct his attention away from the ceiling. He has to be careful not to drop his phone on his face, or else he’ll never hear the end of it from her—but then, it’d probably be payback for all the times he named the Kitty Section group chat after the fact that apparently she and Rose can hardly keep their hands off each other. “You don’t even like Lord of the Rings.”

“No, but you’re enough of a meme that I understand the references.”

“If I’m a meme,” Luka says, lazily rolling over onto his stomach, “doesn’t that just make you a meme-loving fuck?”

Juleka doesn’t bother looking up at him until that moment, and then she stares. “Why are you just… just the worst.”

Luka shrugs. “It’s in the job description.”

“You’re changing the subject.” Juleka puts her bass aside. “Bakery Girl.”

“Cute Bakery Girl,” Luka corrects her, then winces at himself. He just has to keep digging these holes for himself, doesn’t he?

“You’d know better,” Juleka says, getting up to busy herself with the array of nail polish bottles lined up on her vanity. She picks out the near-empty bottle of black, shaking it up and beckoning him closer. “Come on. We’re getting your feelings out.”

Luka grins.

It’s a tradition: Juleka takes out the nail polish, works on Luka’s hands while he tries to talk out whatever is on his mind, and then they switch. They’ve kept it up for years, for as long as Juleka’s been painting her nails—for as long as Luka’s been curious about what his own might look like in an array of colors, and whether they might help him keep his fingers on the tabs. And whether Juleka’s classmates would stop making fun of her and her apparent “creepy goth vibes” if he did it, too. They’ve never been particularly good with words, either of them, but it all seems to come out better once the polish kicks in.

“Okay,” he finally says, once they both get comfortable on the floor and the music is on and Juleka takes his hand in hers. “I mean, I dunno what you want me to say about her. She’s cute, I guess she works at the bakery I’ve been going to, but… I’ve never seen her there before. You remember how I started going in like… March, I think? Cause of your midterms?”

Juleka nods, too focused to give a real answer. It’s endearing, how her brow pinches together like this, how the tip of her tongue sticks out of the corner of her mouth. She’s even clipped and tied her hair up to keep it from getting in her eyes or smudging the polish. She really means business about this, doesn’t she? The last time she was this serious about something was… Rose, probably. The I think I like girls the way I’m supposed to like boys talk. The I think I like both and I don’t even know if I’m supposed to reply.

“So what’s she like?” Juleka asks after a moment. “What does she do?”

“She…” For a moment, Luka pauses. How much does he actually know about Marinette? And how much has he just been projecting onto her like some shallow protagonist from one of those romantic drama movies? He calms himself, chewing his lip and breathing in deep, and thinks about her eyes. Just the right shade of blue. “Well, I guess I…”

Juleka looks up. Expecting. Maybe even judging.

“She likes to draw,” he blurts out. “Fashion type things, because it’s what she goes to school for. That’s what she told me, anyway. I mean… obviously I’ve only ever seen her at the register, because I don’t want to be creepy, even though I’m always afraid I really am creepy and just not picking up on it. But she draws, and she’s sweet… no pun intended. And it’s not like it’s just her Customer Service Persona or whatever, because she’s kind of sassy, too, and… and something about her makes me wanna stay there. And know all the things I don’t know about her.”

Juleka smiles, but she can’t get away with hiding how she rolls her eyes this time. She whistles, starting high and ending low and punctuating it with something that sounds like a fake explosion. “Damn,” she says. “You’ve got it extra bad, huh.”

“Not like I’m gonna do anything about it.” Luka shrugs, trying not to think about how obviously ridiculous he must sound, talking like that. He keeps his hands steady as his sister blows the nails dry and gets started on the next set. “I can’t be That Douche who tries to ask someone out while they’re literally on the clock. And besides, she goes to school a whole ocean away. And she knows big names. Big names.”

“You know big names,” Juleka points out.

This time, it’s Luka’s turn to roll his eyes. “Just because Jagged Stone tweeted me back, like, once in high school, doesn’t mean I know big names.”

“You covered one of his songs. On acoustic. That’s a pretty big deal. Almost as big as actually posting it online.”

“It’s—”

Juleka shoots him a look. “Take. The compliment.”

Defeated, Luka sighs and focuses on the music instead, on the way Juleka hums along as she works on those first and second coats with all the care in the world. He starts to hum with her—first the same melody, and then a lower harmony. It’s how they’ve always worked together. Identical, and then in sync, just to find all the ways they’re each other and their own all at once.

Ma always did say it was one of the easiest things about raising them, alone or no.

“Here’s a Novel Idea,” Juleka mumbles, a tease at the edges of her voice. It isn’t hard to pick up on the little nuances in her voice—not hard for him, anyway. “You could ask her out off the clock.”

Luka’s chest goes tight. “Or I could spare myself and not do that.”

“What? Scared of ruining the illusion?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know, Cute Bakery Girl this and Cute Bakery Girl that.” She scoffs under her breath. “Do you even know her name?”

His breath catches in the best way. The way he feels proudest. “Marinette,” he murmurs, music and ocean and blueberries on his tongue. Butterflies in his blood and a corkscrew in his stomach. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Juleka’s hand freezes. Polish drips onto his knuckles, smears across the cracks between his fingers.

His brow furrows. “What?”

“Nothing,” Juleka says, making a grab for a cotton bud and the polish remover. “Nothing.”

But she’s quiet after that, the way she tended to be in school and hardly ever at home. And she doesn’t ask any more questions about Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Or Cute Bakery Girl. Or anything. He has to wait for their hands to dry before he can really function again, and he reaches for his phone well before he goes for the neck of his guitar.

oh. well.

hm. more at 11.

whenever 11 is, i guess.

[ghostlyhamburger]

Under Agreste: The Show

Rating: T

Pairings: Adrienette, Adrigami

Read on Ao3

Adrien was given a few more blissful hours of sleep while the contestants did some kind of trivia contest to determine which group date they’d be going on.

He was awoken by a knock at the trailer door. He stumbled over, blinking sleep out of his eyes, and opened it to see a woman with dark hair and a smile that promised Adrien had no room to argue with anything she said. “Morning, Sunshine. Ready for your dates?”

“Do I have a choice?” he muttered. “Just tell me what I’m doing.”

“You’re going to wardrobe,” she replied. “Then, off to the music festival. Oh, and you’re picking one of them for a private date tomorrow, so keep that in mind.”

**

He met up with seven of the contestants at the dance studio. They were all dressed in varying types of athleticwear—from Chloe in booty shorts and a sports bra to Juleka in a loose sweatshirt and pants.

Adrien approached one of the group standing to the side. “You chose to go with dancing?”

Sophie, if he remembered right, snorted and gestured to the cane in their hand. “I drew the short straw this time.”

“I…” He trailed off into silence as he started overthinking his next question, not wanting to offend.

“Don’t worry about me,” Sophie said. “I’ll do what I can, and I’ll sit on the side when I need to. I know my own limits.”

“Okay,” he said awkwardly. “Just, uh, have fun.”

“Adrien. Over here,” the producer who’d woken him up (he’d learned her name was Alya) said sharply, pulling him along by the arm. “Okay, stand there, lights are good, now introduce the celebrity guest to the ladies, and we are rolling!”

“Hey everyone,” Adrien said, able to instantly turn on the charm. “I’d like you all to meet a good friend of mine, who’s going to lead a dance class for us—Clara Nightingale!”

The contestants cheered and applauded as the popstar entered the studio, waving happily.

“Hello everyone, it’s great to meet you!” she cried. “Now let’s start the music and bust a groove!”

Music blasted into the room, and Clara started to show them a series of dance steps, encouraging the girls and Adrien to follow along. After it seemed like most of them had the hang of it, Adrien was sent out of the room.

“What’s going on now?” he asked Alya.

“They’re going to practice a little show for you, basically,” she replied. “You just wait out here. Sorry, Sunshine, but waiting for the girls to do something will be most of your day.”

“Fine by me,” he said with a shrug. “So, uh, where’s that other producer? Marinette?”

“Working with the Jagged Stone group,” Alya replied. “You’ll see her later today. And Nino’s got the XY group, so you’ll see him too.”

Adrien made a face on hearing the popstar’s name.

“Buck up, Sunshine, while the cameras are on you, you’re XY’s biggest fan.”

“Why do you call me that?” he asked.

“Sunshine? It’s your hair,” she replied. “That, and you’re a sweet guy. Never met anyone who met you and didn’t like you. Why, you hate the nickname or something?”

“Uh, thanks,” he said, smiling. “I don’t mind the name.”

**

Adrien was led back inside the room by an eager Clara. “The girls have worked so hard, it’s true! And now they’ll all dance just for you!”

He was directed to stand in the center of the room as the contestants lined up. They each danced across the room, performing a series of rehearsed moves around him, holding onto him and giving him a kiss on the cheek at the right timing of the music (except Sophie, who sat on the side and blew him a kiss).

But then, Chloe’s turn to dance came, and she kissed him right on the lips. He tried to hold her at arm’s length, but she was surprisingly strong.

“Okay, we got the shot, can someone get her off Sunshine?” Alya called. “Kid looks like he’s going to puke.”

A couple of cameramen wrestled Chloe away from Adrien, who barely had time to shoot a grateful glance towards Alya before he was hustled away to the next date.

**

“Hey, dude,” Nino greeted Adrien as he arrived at the recording studio. “You a fan of XY?”

“I’ve been told I am when the cameras are on,” he replied.

“Good enough for me. So, the girls have been practicing a song that he wrote, they’re going to sing it to you, you’re going to record a track with all of them. And then it goes on Spotify and no one remembers this shitty reality show song, but, hey, it’s all about fun, right?”

Adrien laughed. “Yeah, I guess. Fun and finding a wife.”

He sat in the studio, and the girls cycled in and out of the recording booth, a small space with a few instruments set up, each contestant singing the same few bars of a mediocre song. Something about loving life and wanting to be cool. Some of them were having fun, and some pulled faces, clearly not enjoying the song at all.

Adrien tried not to laugh too much, but one girl’s disgusted face and tone during the lyric “I wanna shake my booty and find a real cutie” drove him over the edge, causing him to bend over, coughing from how hard he was laughing.

“That was great!” he told Cherie as she exited the recording booth. “Loved it!”

She flashed a grin at him before Kagami stepped into the booth.

“Excuse me,” she said. “I’d like to request that I play the music, instead of using the backing track.”

Adrien shrugged. “Works for me.”

Kagami sat down at the piano and began to play, her fingers deftly flying across the keys as she played the same melody—but without the synthesized beat on top of it, it sounded pretty good. The lyrics were unfortunately still the same, but her voice was strong and clear.

Behind the scenes, Nino directed the lights in the studio be lowered, except the booth light directly over Kagami’s head. Adrien didn’t notice, simply watched as she seemed to radiate brightness and everything around her faded.

When she finished, she looked out through the glass of the booth and asked, “How was that?”

“Amazing,” Adrien replied, giving her a genuine smile. “That was great.”

**

Adrien was shuttled to a much more familiar sight—a photo studio. He headed inside and was immediately pushed to a changing area and handed some clothes.

At least he knew what to do here. He changed into the outfit given to him, something very different from the usual stuff he wore for Gabriel. Dark ripped jeans, a graphic tee, black leather jacket—this was far more his style than what his father had ever designed, and it was actually comfortable, too.

Once changed, he found himself automatically walking over to the hair and makeup area, knowing what came next without even thinking. Marinette was standing at one of the makeup chairs, and waved at him, motioning him over.

“Hey!” she said brightly as he sat down. “So, did anyone tell you what’s going on?”

“Of course not,” he replied with an easy grin. “I know how to be a model, though.”

“Well, right now, the girls are picking out their outfits. This whole date thing is a makeover with Jagged Stone, so everyone’s going to be rock-and-roll!” She gave a quick air guitar riff as she imitated Jagged’s accent.

Adrien chuckled. “Nice. This actually sounds like fun.”

“So, since all the pro makeup artists are going to be on camera getting the girls ready, I’m filling in to help you,” she said. “You ready?”

“You do makeup too?” he asked in surprise, keeping his face otherwise still as she started to brush foundation onto his skin.

“Yeah, my dream as a kid was to be a fashion designer, so I spent most of high school teaching myself all different aspects of it—photography, makeup, hair, photoshop, all of it. Makeup is really fun, it’s like painting, but on skin.”

“So what led you to work in reality TV instead?” he asked.

“Oh, I had an internship, and then I got fired a few days in,” she replied. “Close your eyes for me? It’s funny, it actually was with Gabriel. I messed up someone’s coffee order, and I was told that if I couldn’t even get coffee details right, I wouldn’t be able to get clothing details right either, and I was out.”

“I’m so sorry,” Adrien said softly, opening his eyes and glancing up on her cue. “You shouldn’t have been fired over that.”

Marinette shrugged. “It’s okay. My best friends were working for Alec on his production team at the time, and they needed a new assistant, so I got the job. And it turns out, I’m really good at managing schedules and large groups of people, so, here I am.”

“Why didn’t you try to get a job with another fashion house?”

“You’re kidding, right?” she asked. “You know how big your father’s company is. Once you’ve been fired from there, no one wants you anymore. I’ve basically been blacklisted.”

He frowned. “That’s not right. You screwed up one coffee and you’re locked out of your dream industry for life? I’ve made way worse mistakes!”

“Not all of us are lucky enough to be born into the right industry, Adrien,” she said softly. “It’s fine, really. It’s been years, I’ve cried enough over it, I’m moving on and focusing on the now.”

He reached out, catching her wrist as she turned to grab a different brush. “Hey. It’s still not right, and if you want—I can talk to my father and at least get you a good recommendation.”

“I—I don’t know,” she said. “I’ve given up on that, I’m here now…I don’t know if I want to change my life around again.”

“Let me know, okay?” he asked. “You’ve been really nice to me, I want to help you.”

She grinned as she turned back to him. “All right. Just one more thing—is it okay if I touch you?”

“Uh, yes? I’m not really used to people asking that.”

Marinette frowned and bit her lip, but simply said, “You need to look like you’ve been passionately making out with your favorite girls, so—here.” She moved her thumb against his lower lip, smearing the red lipstick she’d put there for just this purpose.

Her fingertip was soft, and he felt just a small twinge of disappointment when she pulled her hand back.

“So!” she said, turning away from him. “Have you picked your girl for the private date?”

“Still thinking about it,” he replied. “I might choose Kagami, though.”

Marinette smiled, though she still wasn’t looking right at him. “Good call. She seems like one of the nice ones. Nino gets the bonus if you pick her, and he deserves it.”

“How many do I need to choose to get rid of, though?” Adrien asked.

“Four.”

“And I still can’t pick Lila?”

Marinette laughed. “No. You can’t pick Lila. Now, head over to the stage, say hi to Jagged for me, and do the modeling thing you’re so good at. I’ll see you later.”

**

Adrien barely remembered the photoshoot. It felt like nearly every other one he’d done, except that his fellow ‘models’ were trying to win his heart, and his favorite rockstar was yelling encouragement from the side.

The important thing he did pay attention to was Jagged Stone inviting them all to front-row seats at his concert that night.

After the cameras filmed him and the contestants dancing to one song, they miraculously went away, which meant the crew got to join in the crowd. Adrien found himself right beside Marinette, who grinned at him as she jumped and headbanged to the music, singing along as loud as possible.

**

Adrien’s next day was mostly free, but Nino stopped by the trailer to encourage him to come by the mansion and talk to all the girls, get to know them.

As he entered the mansion, he heard shouting, and headed over to see Lila yelling at Marinette, as the latter was restocking the wet bar for the girls.

“I saw you dancing with him!” Lila shouted. “You’re not even someone he should be looking at!”

“Yeah, you caught me dancing, at a concert,” Marinette replied sarcastically. “You do realize I’m pushing for you to win, right? I’m your producer, not your competition.”

“Then maybe you should do your job and produce instead of having your slut hands all over Adrien!”

Marinette just rolled her eyes as she stood up from the bar, then smiled. “Oh, hey, Adrien.”

Lila spun around, a wide grin on her face, all traces of anger gone. “Adrien, hi!” she cooed. “I had so much fun last night.”

“Really?” he asked, unable to stop the amused grin that crossed his face. “I don’t know, you seemed a little jealous.”

Her smile fell and she glared daggers at Marinette for just a moment before stuttering out, “W-well, of course! I don’t want to have to share you with all these women.”

“Try to be nice to them,” he said, gently admonishing. “It’s really important to me that you all get along. I don’t want anyone to be hurt here.”

“Of course,” Lila said, her tone syrupy sweet. “We’ll be all like sisters.”

Adrien glanced over at Marinette, who physically could not roll her eyes any harder, but gave him a thumbs up.

He smiled at her before leaving the room to explore the large house. He didn’t see everything before his eye was drawn by a large game room, set up with systems and arcade cabinets. Surely no one would mind if he played a few rounds of Ultimate Mecha Strike…

The contestants wandered in and out as he played, some of them joining him, others just watching. He didn’t pay that much attention until he heard a snort from the doorway.

“Video games? Really?” the woman, Josee, asked. “I thought we were all adults here.”

“Hey, I’m not giving up my ranking in UMS for anything,” he replied. “You want a round.”

“Uh, no.” With that, she turned and walked off.

Adrien sighed as he kept playing. At least this time the contestants were making his choice easy for him.

**

The cameras followed Adrien closely as he crossed through the mansion to find his date for the evening.

“Kagami,” he said, drawing her attention away from the book she was reading. “Would you do me the honor of being my date for this evening?”

She smiled. “I would love to.”

They ended up on a boat floating along the Seine. They were the only two people in the boat, but the cameras were set in other boats, tethered to the side. As they sailed down the river, they could hear snippets of music from the various concerts for the festival.

“I really liked what you did with XY’s song,” Adrien said. “You actually made it sort of good.”

Kagami smiled. “I don’t think anything could have saved that booty line.”

“Oh, no way,” he replied, laughing.

“Honestly, I wish I had met Clara,” Kagami said. “Or really, any other musician, if you can call XY a musician.”

Adrien leaned close and confessed, “I’ve been told I am a huge fan of his when the cameras are on, so…”

She laughed, moving her hand over her mouth to hide the noise.

“Your singing voice is great, by the way,” he said. “I liked listening to you.”

“And I really like talking to you,” she replied. “I hope I can get to know you a lot better.” She leaned forward and placed her hand on top of his. He just smiled, and laced his fingers with hers.

**

It was late when Kagami and Adrien arrived back at the mansion. The cameras caught him giving her a soft kiss on the cheek before they were both rushed off to prepare for the elimination ceremony.

Marinette was the one to bring Adrien the tray of guitar picks he’d be giving to the girls who stay. “You got this?” she asked.

He nodded. “I’m good. I can do this.”

“Damn, if private dates are going to chill you out that much, I can’t wait to see you after all the other ones,” she replied. “Good luck!”

The ceremony went by in a blur, with nearly no tears this time. Ondine, Christine, Josee, and Sophie were all asked to leave, and none of them had much argument or disappointment.

When it was over, Adrien headed back towards his trailer, passing Marinette talking to Kagami. The two girls shared a laugh over something, and he stopped in his tracks to watch them, smiling as all his stress from the day seemed to melt away.

He realized that maybe he would find love on this show, after all.

**

“Next time: Adrien and the girls give back to the local community! And are sparks flying between him and a certain somebody?”

[saber-wing]

Limit

Also available on AO3

If Steve Rogers had a shit list, Victor von Doom would be among the top contenders.

The man was utterly merciless. He’d do anything to get what he wanted. He didn’t care how many innocent people stood in his way. And, his ideology was far too close to Red Skull’s iteration of world domination for comfort. He was the poster definition of a super villain. Overzealous. Cruel.

It was also his fault Manhattan was in such a sorry state, and that Steve had been out in the hot sun for days, working to clean up the wreckage alongside S.H.I.E.L.D. and other local and federal authorities. So much destruction in such a short time. It was unconscionable.

Steve yanked out another steel beam sticking up in the middle of the street and tossed it onto a truck with a pile of scrap metal. Breathing heavily, he wiped his face with the back of a dust-stained glove, eyes stinging from the sweat dripping into them.

They’d been at it for a while, and slowly, they were making progress. Most of Doom’s army of eviscerated robots had been cleared from the streets, and many survivors trapped under the rubble had been freed. There was still a lot of work to be done, but they were moving in the right direction.

Steve hunched over, resting a hand on his knee. He squeezed his eyes shut, allowing himself a moment’s reprieve. Shoulders heaving, sweat carving a path through the grime, he contemplated the last time he’d stopped to rest. When had that been, exactly?

He couldn’t recall.

Certainly, he’d seen several shifts come and go. Steve kept working through it, with minimal scattered stops to eat at random intervals, and he tried to stay hydrated. Out in temperatures like these, not doing so could be fatal. But Steve was far stronger than the average human. He’d had worse in the army. He could handle backbreaking work, and keep it up for a far longer period.

The sooner the city got back to normal, the better. Its citizens couldn’t be expected to heal, living in limbo like this.

Tony was getting frustrated. He’d been pushing Steve to ‘stop being such a try hard and let S.H.I.E.L.D. pull their weight for a change.’ And he might have a point. Steve hadn’t slept in a while.

Abruptly, and with a bit of alarm, Steve realized he hadn’t the slightest idea how long ‘a while’ was.

Setting his jaw, Steve resolved to finish clearing this block. Then, he would rest. He squinted up at the sun, hand shielding his eyes. If he stopped by noon, he could be back out by sundown, and still allow for a fair amount of sleep. Food. Maybe a shower. He looked down at himself, wrinkling his nose.

Definitely a shower.

Steve straightened and took a few steps forward, working his way toward a pile of twisted metal that looked slightly more lethal than its surrounding compatriots. Someone could really hurt themselves on that. Sweat poured off him in buckets, and he blinked it out of his eyes, shaking his head, as if to shoo a fly away.

Big mistake. Steve’s head swam in a way it hadn’t in years, and his vision blurred before he blinked it away, dazed, light-headed, more than a little stunned. He stumbled over a jagged piece of rock; limbs heavy, movements sluggish.

Oh. Oh, wow, he was dizzy.

Steve shambled to an unwilling stop, dropping to one knee.

“Cap?” Someone knelt beside him. Touched his shoulder. The voice was familiar, but it seemed far away to Steve. As if they were speaking through a tub full of water. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, I…” Steve felt disconnected. Even his own voice seemed to belong to somebody else. “I’m fine. I just…just need a…”

Someone shouted with alarm.

Steve wanted to tell them it was all right. He’d get his feet back under him. No problem. He just needed a moment. A moment. That was all. Then he’d…he’d…

He felt himself pitch forward and fell into the black.

Steve came to with his head pillowed on someone’s lap – a metal hand, cupping his cheek. He lifted an arm to shield his eyes, groaning softly.

“Easy, babe. Back up! Give him some space, for fuck’s sake.”

“Tony?” Steve blinked his eyes open, grasping blindly for the blurry face, hovering above his.

Tony caught Steve’s hand. “Here. I’m right here. You’re okay.”

Steve shook his head, wincing at the stabbing pain that sprang behind his eyes. He tried to sit up and was promptly assaulted by a wave of vertigo so intense, he had to stop, bringing a hand up to his forehead to steady himself.

“Whoa, easy there, big guy.” Tony was right there with him, one strong arm wrapping behind his back, supporting him. Holding him up. “Give it a minute.”

“What the…” Steve croaked, accepting a bottle of water Clint thrust into his hand from the sidelines. He twisted off the cap and guzzled it down like a man starved, and truthfully, he probably was. “What happened?”

“You passed out.” Tony’s hand tightened on the back of his uniform. “God damn it, Steve. I told you to cool it!”

Steve blinked.

He’d what?

Clint took one look at the stunned disbelief in his expression and took pity on him. He shrugged, and his voice was teasing, but soft. Almost hushed around the edges. “No, yeah. You did. Wilted like a daisy. Dropped like a stone, into my waiting, capable arms.”

“Wow,” Steve muttered, blowing an exhausted breath between his lips. “I…”

But…that was…he hadn’t fainted in years. Certainly not since the serum.

Someone – an unfamiliar woman in a S.H.I.E.L.D uniform -- crouched in front of Steve, toting what looked like a medical kit, and looking nearly as harried as Steve felt. “Captain Rogers? I’m just gonna take a quick look at you. Is that okay?”

Steve nodded his consent, squeezing his eyes shut when the motion made his head swim.

The woman examined Steve as best she could out on the field. He tried to comply, though his brain still felt sluggish. He answered a few basic questions for her. Yes, he knew what year it was. Yes, he knew the president, and how to say his full name.

Steve still felt shaky. His hands were clammy. And he was light-headed enough that he didn’t trust himself to stand without stumbling. He leaned against Tony, but he was careful not to bear his full weight on him. Steve wasn’t a complete invalid. He didn’t want to scare him. Though judging from his lover’s expression, that ship had sailed the moment Steve dropped to the ground, like a sack of potatoes.

The young woman pursed her lips as she finished the exam, frowning at him in a way that made him feel chastised. “Heat exhaustion. I’d like to take you back to the helicarrier, get some I.V. fluids pumped into you. Mr. Stark, you’re his medical proxy?”

“Yup.” Tony, typically the first one to shirk medical advice, nodded. “You have all necessary documentation on file.” There was something clipped about the words. A tension behind them that spoke of a maelstrom, churning just below the surface.

The woman nodded. “If the doctor clears him after the I.V. I can send him home with you, but he needs rest.”

“Oh, he’ll get it. Don’t worry your little head about that.” Tony flashed her a showman’s smile – pristine. Just the faintest flash of teeth.

Steve crossed his arms. He hated being talked over like this, particularly over a medical issue. He’d had quite enough of that as an asthmatic in the forties. “That’s hardly necessary. A few hours of rest will do me just fine. I need to be out here.”

Steve was sitting more steadily on his own now. Enough that Tony, evidently, felt it was safe to stand, whirling to face him in a flurry of waving limbs. “You’ve been out here for three days.”

Steve bristled. Had it really been that long?

Tony wasn’t finished. He continued before Steve even had a chance to open his mouth, frustration dripping from every pore. “How many of the National Guard’s tanks have you pulled out of ditches by yourself, in that time? Hmm?”

Steve blinked, not entirely sure where Tony was going with this. “I…don’t know, I wasn’t counting. A couple dozen. What does that have to do with anything?”

“What does that have to–” Tony cut himself off, pinching the bridge of his nose. He scoffed, gesturing at the medic with an exasperated wave of his hands. “You see what I have to deal with? What the hell is the matter with you? No, for fuck’s sake, sit down.” Tony pushed on his shoulders when he moved to stand up; hard enough that Steve – woefully off-balance – could only comply. He fell heavily onto his backside, blinking dazedly up at his boyfriend. Who looked…positively livid, if his reddening cheeks were any indication. “I’m calling it. You are way over your limit.”

“Pot, kettle,” Steve replied, which was perhaps, not the best thing he could have said. He winced the moment the words were out of his mouth, but that didn’t stop Tony from latching onto them anyway. Boy, did he ever latch on.

Tony stormed over to Steve, voice trembling with fury.

“That is not the same thing. I might spend too many nights in the workshop, but you don’t get to compare my stupid insomnia to lifting literal tanks out of ditches and tossing around pieces of skyscraper for days without a break. That is not how this works. You can get the fuck up off that right now Steve Rogers, or I swear to God…”

Steve had moved on from confused, to mildly alarmed. He reached out a hand. Tried to catch Tony’s wrist.

“Honey—”

Tony cut him off, jerking away. “Don’t honey me. I don’t wanna hear it.” His words were tight, cracked around the edges. “Every lecture you’ve given me about taking care of myself doesn’t mean a damned thing if you can’t practice what you preach, you self-righteous son-of-a-bitch! You haven’t slept at all, have you? You’ve literally been working. This entire time!”

Tony was really upset. His hands were moving a mile a minute, but Steve could see them shaking, and his brown eyes were wild, glimmering with anger. Anger, and something dangerously close to fear.

“Okay. Okay. Let’s just…take a breath,” Steve pleaded softly, but once Tony really got started, it took an act of God to stop him. He steam-rolled over Steve as if he hadn’t heard, pacing.

“You’ve got balls of steel, turning this back on me, you know that? I slept last night. And now I know for a fact you didn’t. Is there anything else I should know about, Steve, or am I the only significant other whose earth-shattering advice you’re ignoring right now?”

Steve held out a hand. “Tony – “

“You can come to me and say, ‘Oh, sweetheart, you’re working too hard, let’s take a break!’ But I do the same thing, and I’m overreacting?”

Steve paused, shutting his mouth with an audible click.

He hadn’t thought of it that way.

Okay. Steve was willing to admit he may have overdone it just a tad. It had been a long day – long three days, apparently -- and the city wasn’t going to salvage itself. But Steve wasn’t ever in any real danger. The serum saw to that. He could take more abuse than anyone else out there. It didn’t make sense to give any less than that when his continued efforts might help pull them out of the hole that much sooner.

But there was such a thing as taking it too far, and Steve had clearly pushed that limit. It was never his intention to drive himself into the ground. He couldn’t help anybody then. Maybe he had been a bit overconfident.

Meanwhile, during Steve’s internal crisis, Tony had continued his tirade, face red, eyes…oh God, there were tears in his eyes.

Okay. That was enough. Steve needed to fix this.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was? I saw you go down. I had a front row seat, Steven Grant Rogers, do you know what that did to me? Do –”

Steve took a breath. He tested his legs beneath him – they’d hold him. He was sure.

Pretty sure, anyway.

He pushed off his knees. His legs did hold him.

For a moment, anyway.

Tony noticed the movement immediately. His eyes widened in alarm, and when the world went sideways, Steve realized he was listing sideways.

He should probably sit back down now, but Tony got there first. He grabbed Steve by both arms, and Steve leaned forward, resting his forehead on Tony’s armored shoulder.

“Would you stop doing that?” Tony’s voice was strangled, pitched somewhere between annoyance, and frazzled amusement.

“What? Standing?” Steve’s voice was muffled, face pressed into the metal. Though it was cool on his heated forehead, it wasn’t exactly comfortable, but he didn’t complain.

Steve was precisely where he wanted to be.

“Yes. You’re awful at it. Sitting. Now, that’s where you excel. Let’s sit down forever, shall we?”

Steve chuckled, wrapping both arms around Tony’s waist. “Good thing I have a Shellhead to detail my shortcomings.”

“Not that you’ve listened to any of them for the past three days,” Tony muttered, voice small, bitter. Steve could feel some of the tension leave Tony’s posture, even through the armor. He held him closer. Took more of Steve’s weight, and Steve sagged against him, feeling weaker than he had in years, and more humbled than he cared to say.

He’d say it anyway. He owed Tony that.

“I’m sorry,” Steve murmured, pulling back far enough to gaze into the prettiest brown eyes he’d ever seen. “It’s not right for me to expect something of you that I can’t do myself. I’ll be more careful.” It was a bitter pill to swallow. Steve had always thought of himself as a very self-aware person. Knowing his strengths, and his limits. Maybe he needed to reassess that opinion.

“Please.” Tony held his gaze, face twisted with anguish. The word was like a knife to the gut, raw with pleading. Knowing Steve had been the one to put it there turned his stomach. “I know I’m bad at it, too. But I’m trying here, Steve.”

“I know.” And it was true. Tony really had been taking better care of himself lately. Steve knew how hard he was trying. It hadn’t been fair of him to throw that up in his face, even in joking. “I know you are. I’ll be more careful. I promise.”

Tony exhaled heavily. Slowly, hesitantly, he nodded. It wasn’t perfect. But it was a start.

Steve was practically weaving on his feet. He leaned his head into Tony’s chest plate. Wrapped both arms around his neck. “I don’t suppose you know anybody who could fly me up to the nearest helicarrier? I’m told I’m an idiot who stayed out in the sun for too long and didn’t sleep for three days.”

Tony chuckled obligingly – thin, forced, but it was still the reaction Steve was hoping for. “This is why I wanted to make you boot jets. Fair warning, I’m much more expensive than Uber, and I expect to be paid with love and affection.”

“You don’t have to do anything for that,” Steve murmured, thick tongued, too addled for anything but raw honesty.

Tony paused, at a loss for words. Steve was typically free with his affections, but Tony didn’t always know how to accept them when Steve meant them so much. And his smile trembled around the edges, eyes shining suspiciously.

“Suck up,” Tony choked, trying for humor, and falling just short. “That’s not fair. You can’t say shit like that when I’m mad at you.” A tear escaped.

Steve reached up to brush it away, cupping Tony’s cheek. He muttered something he wasn’t sure counted as an answer, but words were failing him now. God, he loved Tony. And though he couldn’t seem to manage saying it right now, Steve hoped he could always feel it.

Tony leaned into his touch for a long moment. Kissed his palm. “All right. That’s enough mush. I’m gonna puke.” His eyes told Steve he knew. And the soft, gentle quality of his words belied their meaning. “Come on, Princess Peach. Your castle awaits.”

Steve allowed himself to drift in Tony’s capable arms, blinks getting longer. Eyelids heavy. “I... understood...that reference,” he murmured. Not quite slurring, but with lazy, rounded words.

Tony pressed a kiss onto his forehead. “Our feathered friend will be happy ‘Super Mario World’ weekend didn’t go to waste.”

[chickensarentcheap]

Best Part of Me - Chapter 49

Warning: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y​, @innerpaperexpertcloud​, @alievans007​, @ocfairygodmother​

She sits on the edge of the front porch as she watches him work. The sun harsh and punishing as it  beats down on broad shoulders and back, wide chest and powerful arms; rivers of sweat glistening under the brilliant light. The perspiration that dampens his hair makes it look several shades darker; sides and back freshly shaved, the top growing in quickly and beginning to fall across his forehead.  Sunglasses on and barefoot, clad in only a pair of cargo shorts that sit dangerously low on his hips. Every muscle in his upper body bulging and twisting with each swing of the axe; movement easy and effortless as he chops and splinters logs from a  haphazardly stacked pile Koen had left near the fire pit. It’s a thing of beauty to observe. How that body moves and the power that inhabits it. The veins that protrude in those thick, strong forearms, the multitude of scars and tattoos that use his skin as a canvas.

Even after nearly seven years together and five children,  it’s hard NOT to lust after someone that looks like THAT.  He’s the embodiment of masculinity; brawn and immense strength, bravado and confidence without the air of cockiness. Rough skin and large callused hands and an intensity and edge that are always lingering just under the surface.  But there’s other things that make him the man he is. The compassion and the gentleness that he possesses; extraordinary patience and an ability to keep calm, cool, and collected even when the rage is beginning to build. It’s the way he’s so secure in that masculinity; never shying away from things like  braiding his little girl’s hair and daring anyone to tell him it’s not the most manly EVER. It's the ferocity behind his desire to protect what -and who he considers ‘his’; a steadfast loyalty and faithfulness that never breaks. When he loves, he loves big. He’s ‘all in; dedicating his entire heart and soul and giving nothing but fierce and unwavering devotion.

She’s the lucky one. The beneficiary of it all. Never remembering a time that someone had given that much of themselves to her; never questioning their feelings or second guessing her own. No one else had ever made her feel the things he does. Not just a mix of overwhelming and all consuming love and unbridled carnal want and need, but the feeling of being safe and secure. That knowledge that someone will do anything...stop at nothing...to protect her. Mark had only ever been interested in hurting others; dedicating himself to inflicting as much emotional and physical pain and turmoil as he could. Tyler commits himself to fixing those things; quietly -and without needing acknowledgement or praise- attempting to right another man’s wrongs.

He’s grinning as he approaches. Wiping dirty palms against the thighs of his shorts, swiping a forearm across his sweaty brow. “What are you smiling about?”

“Just admiring the scenery,” Esme says, and takes a sip from the bottle of beer in her hand. “And it’s very nice scenery.”

That grin widens, and he places a hand on either side of her, palms flat against the wood of the porch; bending down and  pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And you call me biased.”

“All the women thirsting after you are proof I’m NOT biased. Cashiers at the grocery store, moms on the playground, at the school. Millie’s teacher. I hear she’s very determined when it comes to you. That she tried picking you up at the bar the other night.”

“Who told you that?”

“Ovi. Don’t underestimate his loyalty to me. He told me she was trying to jump on your dick. And that she didn’t seem to be taking no for an answer.”

“I might have been a little harsh.”

“You? Harsh? Never.”

He smirks.

“He also told me that you were a good boy. That you behaved yourself.”

“You were worried I wouldn’t?”

“I wasn’t worried about what you’d do. Some of those women are very persuasive.”

“They can try all they want. My dick’s taken. That’s what I told her. It belongs to someone else. Yours is the only pussy it wants to be in.”

Esme’s eyes widen. “You said that? Those exact words?”

“That was loosely translated. But I did say my dick was taken and that no one other pussy can hold a candle to yours.”

“Oh God…” she lays a hand against her forehead. “...Tyler…”

“In my defence, I was pretty drunk.”

“I have no doubt in my mind that you would have still said it if you’d been sober. That’s such a Tyler thing to say.”

He shrugs. “I have absolutely zero filter left.”

“I know. Believe me, I know. You’re usually a man of few words, but when you DO talk…”

“I say what I mean, and I meant what I say.”

“Exactly. This should make trips to school very interesting, to say the least.”

“Is it wrong I’m looking forward to parent/teacher interview night? Seeing her squirm?  Wanna make out in front of her?”

“She’d probably enjoy that.”

“You like girls too. Is she your type?”

“I am going to pretend you didn’t say that. Because even if she was, I don’t cheat and I don’t share my toys. Especially my favorite one. My ALL TIME favorite. So if you’re into that kind of thing, you need a different wife.”

“Only thing...person...I’m into, is you.” He leans in and kisses her; soft and languid.

She isn’t bothered when  sweat  drips onto her from his forehead and hair, nor does she mind  the salty taste of it on his lips. And the tip of his tongue briefly brushes against her before he pulls away, chuckling when she digs her nails into the back of his neck; pressing her lips to the underside of his chin and nuzzling her nose against his throat.

“I probably stink,” he warns.

“You smell good. You smell like Tyler. And that’s the best smell in the world.”

He smiles at that, then runs a hand over her hair before pecking her cheek. “Longer we’re married, the sappier you get,” he teases, and then takes a seat beside her, grimacing at the discomfort in his back.

“I thought you said earlier I was getting cuddlier?”  She reaches behind her for a second bottle of beer, twisting off the cap before offering it to him.

“You’re getting both,” he says, accepting the beer and pressing a kiss of appreciation to her temple. It’s his first drink since they’d arrived. After getting his first taste of it after six months of sobriety, he’d thought he’d want more. That he’d NEED it. But the longing and feelings of desperation and the ghosts of dependency have settled down. It would have been easy to fall back into his old ways; faced with the multitude of booze Koen keeps scattered around the kitchen. But it hasn’t ‘called’ to him; the burdens and baggage of addiction surprisingly silent.

“Do you not know what sunscreen is?” Esme inquires, and he hisses when she presses her ice cold bottle against the back of his neck. “You’re going to be hurting tomorrow.”

“Can’t get much worse than I’m already hurting.”

She frowns. “That bad?”

He nods and takes a large swallow of beer.

“Knee? Shoulder? Back?”

“Back mostly. The other two feel pretty good for a change.”

“You need to be more careful. Once your back goes, you’re fucked. Maybe that’s what did it,” she presses the fingertips of one hand into the most troublesome spot; left side, middle of the spine, but close to the shoulder blade. Where the sniper’s bullet in Dhaka had torn into him.   “The fucking. Maybe you can’t partake in such strenuous activity anymore.”

He scowls. "You be quiet.”

“I’m just saying. You’re getting older and it would make sense if you start to slow down and your stamina starts to falter.”

“Just put a bullet in my brain. Do it. End it. Because the day I can’t do THAT…”

“What are you going to do if you ever need Viagra?” she teases, and digs her knuckles into his back.

“You know what…?”

She grins and presses a kiss to his shoulder. “What?”

“You’re not making me feel any better. I WILL shoot myself if that ever happens. The day I can’t get it up is the day I lose all will to live.”

“Don’t be such a baby. It's not the end of the world if that happens.”

“Fuck yeah it is. “

“And you question where Millie gets her dramatics from?”

“I am serious. That ever happens, I give you permission to put a gun to my head and pull the trigger. Put me out of my misery.”

“Not going to happen. You’re stuck with me. Even if you do get limp dick. I’m not letting you leave me with God knows how many grandchildren. We’re supposed to spoil them together, remember? You’re not allowed to die. I won’t let you.”

“I’m too fucking stubborn to die anyway.”

“I’m starting to think that’s true.”

She traces a fingertip over the scar left behind from the sniper’s bullet; the size of a dime and no longer raised or puckered. It’s the accompanying scar that’s worse; long and thin and jagged in some areas. Where the surgeon had to open him up and go in to locate the source of internal bleeding and repair a section of his  left lung. It would be easy to hate all those marks; all those parts of his body that have been damaged and torn apart. But they’re part of who he is. Testaments to just how strong and tenacious he is. Proof of his survival and how far he’s come.

“That one’s getting a lot better,” she remarks, as her fingers find the scar left behind from when Farhad had shot him, along with the one beside it; another surgical incision that had been needed to keep him alive. “It’s taken a long time.”

“Doesn’t bother you as much anymore.” It’s an observation. Not a question.

“Not really. I try not to think about the back story. And speaking of back…” her fingers glide over the multitude of deep, red gouges that travel both horizontally and vertically, some even overlapping. “...I wonder what happened here?”

Tyler smirks. “Gee. I wonder.”

“Sorry. I got a little carried away.”

“Just a little,” he grins, as he leans in to kiss her.  Laying  a hand on her thigh,  he gently spreads her legs and nods down at his own handiwork. “Sorry I bit you so hard.”

Esme grins. “You’re not sorry at all.”

“Actually, I’m not.”

She gives a derisive snort, then kisses his shoulder and leans into him; beer in one hand, the other resting on his lower back. “For the record, you need to unleash your inner lumberjack more. That was sexy to watch.”

“And you say I never do anything nice for you,” he chides.

“You’ve got the whole vibe going on. You’ve got the body, you’ve got the beard. Just need to get you a plaid shirt.”

“Fuck that. Look, I don’t mind fulfilling your little fantasies, but I have to draw the line somewhere. No plaid.”

“Fine,”  she huffs dramatically. “At the very least a tight white t-shirt.”

“Anyone ever tell  you you’re weird?”

“Only you. Every day. For almost seven years. You  put up with it though. I notice you stick around despite it.”

“I’d miss it too much. Your weirdness. You in general.”

She grins. “And you call me sappy?”

They lapse into a companionable silence. Nursing their beers as they enjoy the peace and quiet; no sound save for the faint rustling of the trees and bushes as the breeze passes through them. It’s unusual; not being surrounded by noise and activity. Their lives normally filled with chaos, even on the best days. And while they miss the normality of it -the kids voices, their bickering,  the baby crying- it’s a relief to get away from it for a little while. A chance to be alone together instead of having to battle for even a sliver of attention. Days often going by before they even have a normal conversation. So caught up in being parents that they’d forgotten what it was like to need each other. And Tyler drapes an arm across her shoulders and pulls her tightly against him; lips finding her temple, her hand moving to his side.

“Allison called,” Esme says, and places her now empty beer bottle beside her. “She said she couldn’t get through to your cell.”

“Battery’s dead. I haven’t bothered to charge it.”

“Disconnecting from the world. Your dream come true,” she teases.

“What did she want?”

“I had no clue what she was talking about. She said to tell you that she’ll send someone to do a thorough search and get back to you with any news.”

He nods.

“Tyler…”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to stress more.”

“Oh fuck me. What now?”

“It’s probably nothing. Which is another reason why I didn’t say anything. Why freak you out and then it turns out to be nothing?”

“Whatever it is, are the kids going to be okay? Should we have stayed home?”

“We made the right decision coming here,” he assures her. “We NEEDED to come here. And if it were something to worry about..if my instincts told me something was wrong...I would have been the first to cancel everything and insist we stay home.”

“So what is it? What do you have Allison looking into?”

“Millie saw something. SOMEONE. Or she thinks she did.”

“She told you that? That she saw someone? Where? Doing what?”

“She said she saw some lady going into the woods. That she yelled at this person to stop and she didn’t listen to her and kept going. I guess she told Ovi and he went and checked and didn’t find anything. Thinks it was probably just someone trying to get to the beach without going right on our property.”

“What do YOU think?”

Tyler shrugs. “I don’t know what to think. It’s easy to think the worst. Especially right now. But Ovi’s probably right. Probably nothing.”

“But you believe her? Millie? You believe she saw someone?”

“She wouldn’t lie about something like that. She even gave me a good description; pretty detailed. She’s crazy smart. Too smart for her own good. And insanely observant. It’s almost scary HOW observant she is. How keen her senses are.”

“Does that sound familiar? I told you; she’s just like you. She even has your instincts. She saw the Jeep driver; same time you did. And she’s not even six yet and she’s like that?”

“I’d be impressed...and proud...if it didn’t freak me out so much.”

“She’s YOUR daughter.  She has so much of you in her. I see more and more every day; you coming out in her. And that’s not a bad thing, Tyler. Think of all the amazing things she’ll be able to do when she’s older with skills like that.”

“That’s what scares me. What if she’s the one that follows in my footsteps?”

“I highly doubt Millie will grow up and want to be a mercenary. That girl loves her glitter way too much.”

He gives a small laugh.

“Can you imagine her with a pink Glock with a bejewelled grip? That would be Millie as a merc. Or she’d have a pink holster with Hello Kitty embroidered on it. THAT'S your daughter. She is not the one you have to worry about. My money is on Tanner. He’s flying under the radar; no one suspects him. I think he’s conning us all.”

“I never did get my fifteen bucks that he scammed me out of. Or should I say my seven fifty. Because I know full well you took the other half. You’re the one who put him up to it; don’t even try denying it. That had you written all over it. I’ve seen how you work. I saw you scam people in Dhaka. I heard you scam them in Ireland. You’re good.”

“It’s always the ones you least expect,” Esme reasons. “Us little ones are always the last ones anyone is ever suspicious about. But I’m not admitting to anything when it comes to Tanner.”

“He’s a momma’s boy. You could talk him into anything.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“That doesn’t work here. This is Australia. Not the States.”

“I’m not copping to anything. No matter how much you badger me about it.”

He grins. “I have ways you know. Ways of getting it out of you.”

“What are you going to do? Waterboard me? Go all Guantanamo Bay on my ass?”

“A lie detector test. A very accurate one.”

“Oh really…” her eyes playfully sparkle. “...what lie detector test?”

“It’s my own. I made it up. I developed it.”

“Sure you did…”

“All I have to do…” he leans into her, pressing a series of kisses along the left side of her neck  and across her shoulder. “...is this…” he slides a hand up the leg of her shorts, then splays his finger; one coming in contact with the crotch of her panties, the other with the back.   “...one finger here...one finger there…and…” he bites down on the sensitive spot between her neck and her shoulder.

She’s laughing  as she pushes him away. “You dick! That hurt!”

“I WAS going to do this…” he removes his hand from her shorts and grabs at her inner thing.

“Ow!” She yells, then dissolves into giggles and collapses onto her back as his fingers dig and pinch and aggressively tickle. “Tyler! You shit head! Stop! You’re going to make me pee my pants! Don’t be such an asshole!”

“You gonna admit to it?” His hand hand slides down to her knee, then back up again; passing over the crotch of her pants before settling on her stomach. “That you had something to do with it?”

“Never,” she declares. “You can’t get it out of me. You’ll never make me crack.”

“Oh, I can. And I will. You’re not the only one with special skills.”  He pulls up the bottom of her tank top, mouth warm and moist against as he licks a path just above the waistband of her shorts.

“Fuck you and your special skills,” she playfully retorts, and then squeals when he sinks his teeth into the flesh at the bottom of her right ribs. “What is wrong with you?! I’m going to have marks everywhere!”

“You mean like my back?”

“I have to mark what’s mine. My territory. And your ribs are pretty torn up, too. Sorry.”

“It’s a small price to pay,” he says, and then leans to kiss her. “Hungry?”

“Mmm...hmmm…” she arches her back and presses her hips against him.

“I meant for food. And you have the nerve to call me ‘extra’ when it comes to sex lately.”

“I can’t help it. I can’t help that my husband is insanely sexy and turns me on when he so as much looks at me.  I should have married someone uglier.”

“Maybe you should have worked with Gaspar,” he teases. “Doesn’t get much uglier than that.”

“I would have throat punched him for sure. Or killed him. He was too fucking creepy and way too fucking psychotic. That story you told me? About shooting the doves? That was fucked. Doves. Of all birds. Like the hell? I can’t believe you were ever friends with that guy. You’re nothing alike. What did you ever bond over?”

“Killing people.”

“Well THAT’S healthy.”

“Drinking. I was drunk most of the time I was around him. So I wasn’t the best judge of character. Are you hungry or not?”

She nods. “I could eat.”

“We’ll cook something out here. On the fire. Sound good?”

She nods. “I’ll whip up some sides. I have to make sure you keep the tank full. I don’t want to wear you out.”

“You can try, but you never will.”

“You’ve got five years on me,” she reminds him. “I’m still a youngin' compared to you. Pretty soon people are going to start thinking you’re my father.”

“Fuck you. I don’t look THAT old.”

“Older brother, then.”

He frowns. “That’s some Jerry Springer shit.”

“An American reference! After six and a half years of being married to me, you finally used an American reference. ‘I’m so proud of you, Tyler James.”

“You know…” his fingers pull down the bottom of her tank. “You’re lucky I love you.”

She smiles and lifts her head to kiss him. “Yes, I am.”

“I’m going to go and take a shower. Wanna come with?”

“What? You need me to scrub your back?”

A sly grin spreads across his face. “Among other things.”

****

With the sun down, the temperature has dropped considerably; breeze stronger, the cooler air trapped by the mountains surrounding them. After a dinner prepared over open flame, they lounge by the fire; nothing more than a blanket spread on the ground, his legs outstretched as she sits between them with her back pressed against his chest. One of her hands in possession of a glass of wine -the now half empty bottle sitting beside her- and the other resting on the forearm he has laying across her collarbone.  He’s only on his second beer of the day; still three quarters full and in no rush to finish it. It’s a good sign. He won’t be tempted to get heavily back into it in Mumbai; able to be fully engrossed and focused on the job at hand. There’s too much to lose; his entire existence, his whole world. There will be no second chances if he fucks up; he can’t afford to make any mistakes when it's his own family involved.

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t think about it. Mumbai. Mahajan and all his threats. He’d told himself he’d push them all onto the back burner; he’d think of nothing but their time away together. That he’d concentrate on nothing...no one...other than her and the reconnecting that they’re so badly in need of. But when nighttime settles, the dark thoughts always return. It’s when he’s most anxious. When things are quiet and still and he suddenly has time to think; both mind and hands idle. And now he can’t stop dwelling on it. On how he leaves for India in nine days time and whether or not he’s making the right decision when it comes to the people he’s taking along. Questioning whether it’s better to have a solid and structured game plan ahead of time, or if he should just let things fall into place once he gets there; go in with nothing but that list of names and decide there and then how to dispose of them.  Does he have all his ‘ducks in row’ at home; up to date life insurance policy, recent version of a will, an intricately carved out -and written out- plan on what Esme’s to do if he DOESN’T make it back? So engrossed with all the thoughts of doom and gloom, that he hadn’t even realized she was speaking to him until he feels her hand on the side of his face; that simple contact snapping him out of it, eyes not focusing on that concerned face looking at him.

“Are you alright?” she asks, and even in the glow of the campfire he can see the glassiness of her eyes and the flush to her cheeks; side effects of all the wine she’s consumed. It’s been months since she’d indulged in even a drop; cutting it out entirely once she found out she was pregnant with Addie.  And the return to it is hitting her hard and fast.

“Yeah,” Tyler gives a reassuring smile. “I’m fine.”

“Did you even hear what I said?”

He shakes his head.

“What were you thinking about? You looked really intense there for a minute. Like you were going to rip someone’s head off.”

“I must have zoned out. Wasn’t really thinking about anything. What did you say?”

“I asked if you heard back from Allison. About that woman Millie saw.”

“My phone’s inside. Charging. She’ll leave a message. Or call yours.”

“I haven't had a signal for hours.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” he says, pressing a kiss to her cheek before she turns back around. “No one can bother us. Isn’t that what we want? Just get away from everything? Everyone?”

“We do have five kids at home,” she reminds him. “Someone should be able to get a hold of us if there’s an emergency.”

“Everything will be fine. No emergencies.”

“And this thing with the woman? The one Millie thinks she saw?”

“She definitely saw her. Just like she saw that guy in the Jeep. She didn’t imagine it and she’s definitely not making it up. Her description was too good and she’s adamant that she saw this person. Even got pissed when the boys suggested she was imagining things. There’s no doubt in my mind that she saw someone.”

“Do you think it’s something to worry about?”

“If I did, we wouldn’t be here right now and you know that.”

“I DO know that. I know you’d stop at nothing to keep them safe...to keep us ALL safe...if you thought there was a legitimate threat. It just sucks that we even think about things like this.”

“Yeah, it does. But that’s what you get for getting mixed up with me.”

“Don’t start. I knew what I was getting into it. I knew what kind of life you were living and all the toes you’d stepped on along the way. It didn’t matter to me. I just wanted to be with you.  I can handle whatever comes with it. With you.”

“YOU can. But what about our kids? We probably should have thought about that beforehand.”

“It was too late to think about anything. Millie was on her way; whether we were prepared or not. And regardless of what you did...what you DO...for a living, you deserve to have a life. You deserve to be happy and be surrounded by people who love you and need you and want you around. I know you don’t think you deserve all of that, but you do. More than anyone else deserves it.”

Smiling, he presses a kiss to her temples and then takes a swallow of beer.

“And I know you sometimes think it's selfish; for getting married and having kids and bringing all of us into a life like this. But it’s not. You’re not a selfish person, Tyler. You’re selfless, if anything. You always have been.”

“You think pretty highly of me,” he teases.

“I do. I’m pretty fond of you, actually. I’m going to keep you. My life would suck if you weren’t  in it.  Do you remember our old apartment?”

“Just outside of Sydney. Yep. How could I forget that place? First time I’d lived with someone in five years. If you can call it living with someone; I was only there on weekends when I was allowed home from the rehab place.”

“I kind of miss that apartment,” she muses. “It wasn’t much, but it was ours. Even if we had to sleep on a mattress on the floor for six months. We didn’t have a lot, but we were happy there. YOU were happy. Even when you were in all that pain and you were exhausted and frustrated with all the therapies and the progress you didn’t think you were making. You never once bitched or moaned or felt sorry for yourself. You were never miserable. You were just happy.”

“You’re saying I’m not happy now?”

“No. I know you are. I see it every time you’re with your kids. It’s just that you were going through so much...you’d just BEEN through so much...and you never let it break you.”

“I couldn’t let it break me. I had you. We had a baby on the way. You both needed me. I HAD to keep going. For the two of you.”

“Remember the first night we brought Millie home? And she cried. A lot.”

“She cried all night,” Tyler recalls. “So did you. I think you cried more than she did. I had two crying women to deal with.”

“I was so frustrated and exhausted and depressed and scared. I was terrified of being a shitty mom. And you were so good with her. With both of us. I remember how you walked the apartment with her for hours. Just holding er and rubbing her back and talking to her; your voice was so soft and so calm and you were so patient. I watched you with her and I swear I’d never seen anything more beautiful. You with a baby. OUR baby. I didn’t think I could love any more than I already did, and then I watched you being a dad.”

He brushes the tip of his nose against her ear, then kisses it. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m not drunk. I’m sentimental. I can’t help it. Being here with you...ALONE with you...it has me all up in my feels. We’ve never gotten this; this time together. Even when we were in Ireland, it was never about us. It was about the job. This is the first time in nearly seven years where it’s just me and you. And I like it. Being this way with you.”

“So do I. We needed this.”

“We did,” she agrees. “Sometimes it feels as if we don’t exist outside of being parents and raising kids together. Like we’ve completely forgotten about each other and what’s like to be an actual couple. Not just a mom and dad. And I’ve missed seeing you like that. As more than that.”

“I missed that too. I’ve missed you.” He presses a kiss to her temple and tightens his hold on her, forearm sliding further up onto her neck. “I’ve missed US.”

“Things are so much better now. Since we moved here. Being in Colorado was nice, but being here is better. You’re different when you’re here. You’re not as stressed; not on edge so much. You’re more relaxed. Grounded, I guess. You’re in your happy place.”

“Well it’s home,” Tyler reasons. “I just needed someone to MAKE it a home with.”

She smiles and turns her face into his, placing a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “You can be really sweet and cute, you know that?”

“Don’t you start.”

“It’s true,” she laughs, and then pecks his cheek before turning to face the fire once more. “I don’t care how much you hate hearing it. It doesn’t make you soft or weak or less of a man for being like that. Far from it. It actually makes you even more attractive.  And sexy. That you can be like this with me. That you’re not afraid to be emotional or sentimental. Or vulnerable.”

“You’re the only person I CAN be that way with.”

“I’m lucky. I get all these different sides of you that no one else gets to see. It’s like hiding this huge secret from the rest of the world. One that they’ll never, ever, figure out. You’re a mystery to everyone else. I’m the only one who really knows you.”

“Yeah,” Tyler agrees. “You are.”

“Your secret is safe with me. I promise I won’t tell anyone that you cry during Fox and the Hound and Inside Out. I know you have a reputation to uphold.”

He grins. “What reputation is that?”

“The guy that took out a whole apartment of hostiles in Dhaka. Who humiliated Amir Asif. Who took a bullet to the neck AND lived. You really ARE too stubborn to die.”

“Or I’m just lucky.”

“Maybe some of both?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it has something to do with someone putting their fingers in my neck to keep me alive AFTER I got shot.”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Esme says. “I did what I had to do. You would have done the same thing. You wouldn't have left me on that bridge.”

“Not in a million years.”

“I almost thought you were going to leave me the first day, though. When I pissed you off in the market. You were so mad. I thought for sure you were going to dump my ass in the street somewhere. I don’t think I’ve seen you that angry since. Except for that time that weird guy followed me home from the post office because he wanted to ask me out and didn’t believe me when I told him I was married.”

“I could have killed that fucking guy.”

“You were so pissed! ” she recalls. “I thought he was going to shit his pants when you walked out of the house. He wasn’t expecting there to even be a husband, never mind one that looks like you. And then he tried to get all macho and mouthy and actually thought he could take you. You only had like six inches and fifty pounds on him.”

Tyler smirks. “Wasn’t much of a fight.”

“It was two hits. You hitting him, and him hitting the ground. My hero,” she presses a kiss to his forearm. “My knight in slightly tarnished armour.”

“Nothing I wouldn’t do for you. You know that.”

“Yeah, I do,” she smiles. “And just so you know, I’d fight a bear for you.”

“You would, would you?”

“Maybe not a black bear or a polar bear or a grizzly. And maybe not a koala because they’re sketchy as fuck. But a Care Bear. I’d fight a Care Bear for you.”

He laughs at that, and she’s giggling when she turns her face into his and kisses him. Nails digging into his forearm through the fabric of his hoodie, her tongue gentle yet insistent as it pushes its way past his lips and teeth; his hand moving up to cup her cheek. “I’ve got something for you.” he says.

“My other surprise?”

He nods.

“And this one is definitely from you? Not the kids?”

“Just from me.”

“It’s not even my birthday. Or our anniversary. And Christmas was only two months ago and we’re past Valentine’s Day. So what’s it for?”

“It’s not for anything. It's a ‘just because’ kind of surprise.”

“Just because what?”

“Just because I felt like it. And because I love you.”

She grins. “And you say you’re not sappy.”

“Here,” he digs into one of the pockets on his hoodie and pulls out a small black velvet box, offering it to her.

Her eyes narrow. “What did you do?”

“What do you mean what did I do? I didn’t do anything. I wanted to buy you something so I bought you something.”

“Just because?”

“Yep. Just because.”

“Tyler…”

“Esme…”

“What is this?”

“Just take it. It’s yours. Just open it.”

“I’m kind of scared to.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve done something you didn’t have to do and I’m going to get all emotional and up in my feels and you hate when I get all up in my feels and ugly cry.”

He smirks. “If it happens, I’ll deal with it. Just open it.”

“Okay…” she  takes the box from him, turning her body sideways and draping both legs over his thigh. “AM I going to cry?”

“Knowing you? Probably.”

“You’re trouble. Making me cry.”

“It’ll be a good cry. I promise.”

“Alright…” she says, and then pops open the lid of the box, tears immediately glistening in her eyes; lower lip trembling as she looks from the ring nestled inside, to him, then back down again.

It isn’t over the top of outlandish; something simple and classic for a woman that’s never cared about the materialistic things in life. Who was happy in that small apartment outside of Sydney and who would have been just as happy in a shack in the outback. But the solitaire diamond sparkles brilliantly in the glow cast by the fire, as does the rose gold band it’s set in.

“You like it?” he asks.

She nods, and he presses a kiss to her forehead and uses a thumb to clear the tears off her cheeks. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes. “YOU’RE beautiful. Why…?”

“Millie asked why you didn’t have one. She said you guys watched some wedding show on tv and that all the ladies have engagement rings and why didn’t you have one?”

“She’s pretty observant that daughter of yours. Did you tell her that I never expected one or asked for one or really wanted one?”

“I told her that when we got married, we didn’t have a lot of money and you said you didn’t care about things like diamonds and fancy shit. That you were happy with just a wedding band.”

“Which is true. I’ve always been happy with just that.”

“I know. But she asked why we’d been married forever and you still didn’t have one. So I figured I better get my shit together and show my daughter that I’m not some douche that doesn’t love her mother.”

“I don’t need a ring to know you love me. You find ways to let me know you do. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to. It shouldn’t have taken me six and a half years.”

“I wouldn’t have cared if it took you sixty,” Esme says. “And it’s beautiful and it’s perfect and you’re beautiful and perfect and I don’t deserve it. Or you.”

“Now you’re just talking shit. You deserve more than that. More than me.”

“Now YOU’RE talking shit,” she counters.

“How about we don’t talk shit about ourselves,” Tyler suggests. “Here..”  he takes the box from her, setting it on his thigh and then plucking the ring from its confines. “...hand.”

She grins. “You’re so romantic. There’s the Tyler I know and love. Did you tell your daughter you asked me to marry you in the bathroom?”

“I did actually.”  He slips the ring onto her finger and then presses a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “I told her you were pregnant with her and that you were worried you were getting fat and ugly. That I thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world and I said ‘marry me’ and that was it. There was never really a question.”

“It was a very Tyler like way of asking though. And I said ‘okay’, so technically, it WAS a proposal. In our own weird way.”

“Weird seems to be our thing.”

“I prefer unconventional,” she says, then kneels between his legs. “We’re unconventional. Not weird. We’ve never been normal, per say. We started out in a very unconventional way and we’ve kept it going ever since. Maybe that’s what makes us so good together.  We don’t expect normal from each other.”

His hands settle on her hips. “Maybe.”

“I mean, I married a mercenary. That’s about as far from normal as you can get.”

“You had your chance, you know. To get away. You could have said no.”

“Your eyes and your ass were way too nice to say no to.”

He grins.

“And I don’t care what you did...or do...for a living,” she declares, his face cradled in her hands as she kisses him softly. “I would have said yes a million times over.”

[nogoodmox]

since it’s late n u guys have been so encouraging

i wanna preface this by saying....im not a Writer and this is pretty much the first wrestling-related thing i’ve ever written. also this was written at 3 am yesterday so pls keep that in mind ALSO it’s not very. romantic bc 1.) im not good with that stuff and 2.) it’s kinda covering the early stages of their relationship so they’re barely even friends yet! (this takes place right before war games!)

that being said thanks for being so nice abt it guys ur all the sweetest and i love u and i’m sorry this isn’t Better but constructive criticism would be appreciated! mwah!

Pete tapped his fist against his jaw in a needless effort to hype himself up.

The guaranteed brutality of his upcoming match didn’t faze him—brutality was his specialty, after all— but despite that, he couldn’t shake off an uncomfortable feeling.

Maybe it was the thought of having to rely on others for his victory, or maybe it was the thought of them relying on him. Neither were things that he was exactly used to.

He wondered, when the time came, if he would put himself in harm’s way for the sake of the others.

Pete thought of the last time he had relied on someone. It was ironic in a way, how the same person he had tentatively began to trust would be one of his opponents tonight.

He had never really thought of Roderick as a friend, just a sort of unavoidable ally. His eagerness had been irritating as was his general disposition, but Pete had chosen to put his trust in him. A choice he’d come to regret.

He liked to believe that the betrayal had made him all the more dangerous now. Not only could he use his desire for vengeance to his advantage, he’d also be sure not to make a mistake like that again.

Pete had operated just fine on his own for as long as he could remember. There were a select few times where he’d tried opening up, and each time he paid for it. It took a few experiences for the lesson to be drilled into his brain, but at least now there was no way he could forget it.

He should stick with what he knew best, and what he knew best was solitude.

Keep interactions short and bitter. You look out for one person, and that person is yourself. Everyone else is simply an obstacle or dead weight.

It was a philosophy he lived by, and one he truly believed in. There just happened to be times where he’d let it slip and thought maybe, just maybe, someone could be an exception. But they never were.

A steady knock on the locker room door disrupted his thoughts. A faint feeling of pain registered in Pete’s jaw as he realized he’d been tapping his fist against it this whole time. Before he could say anything, the door opened and Ricochet’s head popped in.

“You got a minute?”

Pete didn’t answer, he just raised an eyebrow when he noticed something in Ricochet’s hands. It looked like a tube of toothpaste.

Ricochet followed his gaze and held up the object, wiggling it in his hand. “Oh, this? Yeah, it’s kinda why I’m here, actually.” He walked up to Pete and held it out to him. Pete read the label, which only confused him more.

“White….face paint?”

The other man adjusted his North American Championship on his shoulder. “Yeah. Y’know, war paint for tonight. It was Hanson and Rowe’s idea. They figured we should at least look like a cohesive unit.”

“What’s the point of that?” Pete deadpanned. “Face paint won’t get us a win against Undisputed Era.”

Ricochet looked at a loss for a second, then sighed. “C’mon man. It’s to pump you up, get you excited to kick some ass. Plus it’ll look cool, yeah?”

Pete wasn’t very convinced, but he wasn’t in the mood to argue. He did admittedly like the idea of amping up the intimidation factor, not that he was going to tell Ricochet that. “Fine. Might as well fool people into thinking we’re a real team.”

“S’that supposed to mean? We’re a real team. Cole and his cronies are gonna see just how real we are tonight.” Ricochet declared, giving Pete a few taps on the chest.

Pete stiffened at the contact and glared at the highflier. Ricochet was someone who currently fell under the obstacle category in Pete’s eyes. He hadn’t forgotten the match where both their titles had been on the line. They never received closure, and Pete intended to change that next time they crossed paths in the ring.

He’d prefer for Ricochet to stay an obstacle rather than become dead weight.

“I’ve said it before, you’re just a guy carrying a piece of gold that I want. As for the other two, they’ve already got each other. We may be on the same side, but we’re not a team.”

The grin on Ricochet’s face weakened a bit. “Man do you like, practice this stuff in a mirror before you talk to anyone?” He chuckled at his own joke—was it a joke? The weight of Pete’s words didn’t seem to mean much to him, however, as he quickly bounced back. “Anyway, face paint, yes or no?”

“Sure.” Pete said.

“Great.” Ricochet tossed the tube of paint to Pete. “Doll me up.”

Pete barely caught the tube in time. He whipped his head up to face Ricochet, trying to make sure he had heard him correctly. “What?”

Ricochet had placed his title on the bench next to him and met Pete’s gaze expectantly. “What? I can’t put it on myself. There’s no mirror in here.”

“Then find one.”

“No can do.” He almost looked smug, as if he had planned this. “Bathroom’s closed for repairs, apparently Kyle and Bobby thought it’d be fun to flush Sullivan’s gear down the toilet. He caught ‘em in the act.” Ricochet let out a whistle. “It wasn’t pretty.”

Pete didn’t want to hear any more. For whatever reason, Ricochet was intent on sporting war paint, he might as well indulge him. After tonight, he could set his sights on what really mattered.

“Alright. C’mere.” Pete placed his championship on the bench opposite of Ricochet’s and squeezed some paint onto his fingers.

He lifted his hand only to pause suddenly, leaving it hovering in front of Ricochet’s face. “What’s their paint look like anyways?”

Ricochet thought for a moment. “It’s like…a V shape on each cheek.” He explained, tracing the motion over Pete’s cheeks with his finger. “Simple enough.”

“Right.” Pete grunted, doing everything he could to ignore the way his face had heated up. He pressed his fingers to Ricochet’s face and began painting the design, trying his best to keep his hand steady.

Pete came to a halt when Ricochet started giggling quietly. He gave him a strange look, pulling his hand away.

The other man took a moment to compose himself, then cleared his throat. “Tickles.” Came the simple explanation. Pete rolled his eyes and continued with his work, retracing the lines to smooth out the jagged edges.

He paused again to add more paint to his fingers, avoiding Ricochet’s gaze. Pete could feel the man looking at him and unconsciously tossed his head a bit to let his hair cover his face.

As Pete started on the other cheek, he noticed Ricochet hadn’t stopped staring at him at him, almost amusingly.

“What?” Pete finally asked, with a hint of challenge.

Ricochet seemed unbothered. “You’re just a lot more careful than I thought you’d be” He said, a little quieter than usual. It was unclear if the remark was meant to be teasing. It seemed sincere enough, but even if it was Pete wasn’t sure what the implications were.

Pete said nothing and averted his eyes again, finishing with a final swipe. “There.” He muttered. “All done.”

“Great! I’ll just have to trust that it looks good.” Ricochet reached up to touch his freshly painted face, then decided against it. “Alright, your turn!”

Pete froze, he hadn’t thought that far ahead.

He wasn’t particularly keen on anyone paying close attention to his face.

It was bumpy and weird; he knew this. Acne scars and uneven stubble were just the beginning of it. It was something he’d learned to accept, but he wasn’t exactly dying for others to get a good look at it.

Regardless, he knew Ricochet wouldn’t take no for an answer. If he had, Pete wouldn’t have just spent the past few minutes spreading paint on his face in uncomfortable silence.

Ricochet took the paint tube from Pete’s hands. “You mind uh…” He made a hair flip motion. “Getting that out of the way?”

Pete looked down at his hands, covered in white paint, and decided to go with option two. He swung his head to the side—a little too forcefully—and flipped the blond mess back. He was satisfied for a moment before it came toppling back down in his face.

It was times like this where he seriously reconsidered growing out his hair.

“I gotchu.” Ricochet intervened, looking even more amused than before. He tucked Pete’s hair behind his ear to keep it from coming loose again. “Sure got a lot of hair homeboy.” He commented.

“Guess you can’t relate.” Pete replied bluntly.  

Ricochet laughed out loud at that, almost too eager to make fun of himself. “Guess not.” He emptied what was left of the paint into his hand and got to work. Pete winced at the cold feeling, trying not to pull away. “But you know,” Ricochet continued. “The lack of hair could be the secret to my speed.”

Pete wasn’t fully sure if he was joking. “I reckon that’s why you got pieces missing in your eyebrows too?”

The highflier laughed again, this time not as loud, but a huge smile graced his face. “Man, you’re alright.”

Ricochet spread the paint on Pete’s cheeks with ease, moving just as smoothly as he did in the ring. Pete fought with everything he had to try not to break out into a fit of laughter. Ricochet was right, the feeling made him ticklish. His lip curved upward in a smile that he quickly pushed away.

“All set.” Ricochet finally announced, looking proud of his work. Pete didn’t doubt that the man had probably done a better job than him. “Now we look like a force to be reckoned with.”

Pete held couldn’t help but soften his expression a bit. He felt cool, and far more relaxed than earlier. Once again, he wasn’t going to tell Ricochet that, but he appreciated the feeling. “If painting faces keeps you from screwing up tonight, then so be it.” He replied with a shrug.

Ricochet shook his head, and if Pete didn’t know any better he’d say he was annoyed. “You never quit do you? Y’know we can do this whole rivalry thing without all the little remarks, yeah?”

“Cause make no mistake,” Ricochet’s tone grew serious. “I’m just as focused on that title of yours as you are on mine.”

The sudden change surprised Pete, but it didn’t faze him. After all, this was why he kept up his guard so high. He knew behind every person there was a set of intentions, and each interaction with him was a means of achieving them.

“I’m well aware.” Pete said evenly. “S’why I’m not buying this partner ruse. We’re not friends, and we never will be.”

Ricochet paused for a moment. “Just ‘cause you’re a future opponent, doesn’t mean we can’t be on the same page now. It’s no ruse, I’ve got your back tonight. I mean that.”

“Better to have your own back first.”

Ricochet lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck, looking unsure of where to go from there.

“You’re a tough nut to crack.” He said finally, leaning down to grab his North American championship. When he came back up, he was smiling again. “But I’m willing to prove where my loyalties lie out there. There’s no hiding in the ring.”

Pete eyed him for a moment, then nodded briskly. “That’s one thing we can agree on.”

“I’ve got another. We both wanna beat the hell out of those undisputed assholes, right?” Ricochet offered. “That snake Roddy’s gonna be out there tonight. If you ask me, you should focus on giving him the ass whopping he’s had coming instead of making enemies out of your partners.”

An odd silence followed his words. Pete didn’t know how to respond, and Ricochet’s intense gaze wasn’t making it any easier. In his heart Pete knew he had a point.

He was more than willing to take on all four members of the Undisputed Era himself, but he knew realistically he wouldn’t come out victorious. He needed Ricochet and the War Raiders whether he liked it or not.

Just one night couldn’t be so bad, right? Even if it involved putting his faith in other people. Ricochet had nothing to gain from betraying him. Hanson and Rowe, he wasn’t so sure, but considering how fixated they had been on the Undisputed Era for the past several weeks, it was unlikely.

Ricochet saved Pete from having to muster up an answer by reaching over and picking up his United Kingdom Championship. Pete’s eyes widened and he tensed up, ready to snatch it out of his hands.

There was no need to, however, as Ricochet placed it snugly on Pete’s shoulder.

He gave it a few pats, admiring the intricate design on the belt for several moments.

Ricochet took a few steps back, his own title sitting around his waist. “You look good.” He said finally. “Let’s do work tonight, mate.”

Pete’s partner tossed the now empty paint tube in his hand once, then turned to saunter off.

“Not your mate.” Pete replied in a half-hearted protest. He couldn’t see Ricochet’s face as he left the room, but Pete knew he was smiling.

“By the way, the bathroom’s perfectly fine. Just figured we could use a team bonding exercise.”

[tanjamikaelson]

LOVE FOR ETERNITY - PART 32

MASTERLIST

PART 32: | DANCE QUEEN |

・ • ・ • ・

There are objects of affection

That can mesmerize the soul.

There is always one addiction

That just can not be controlled.

You are mine, all mine, you are mine.

・ • ・ • ・

AMSTERDAM

More than a month ago Rebekah told them that Klaus left for New Orleans and that he finally believed them when he saw Marcel with his own eyes. Now he is trying to get his city back and become a king again, just as Kol and Natali expected. And Elijah was also with him, still trying to lead him down the right path.

Kol woke up, eyes getting used to the surroundings around him. In a haze, he glanced at his girlfriend beside him in this fancy hotel room they were currently residing in and another dead girl from last night snack, lying on the edge of the bed.

He sat up in the bed, eyes turning toward Natali as she too began to wake up. Kol watched as her eyes started to come back to life.

 - “Hey. Darling..”, Kol smiled at her lazily. “You wanna go for another round?” His hand trailed down her chest.

 - “What? No, not really, let me sleep.” Natali mumbled in a sleepy voice, while she pushed his hand away in the space between them.

 - “Come on, love. Last night was spectacular.” Kol strung out the last word for effect.

 - “You’re right. Having all that drugs and alcohol in me made it amazing and if I’m mundane I would probably be dead, so let me sleep until all of it is out of my system.” Natali told him, turning herself on the stomach.

 - “What a better way to get it out of your system then to have more fun?” Kol questioned, devilish smirk appearing on his face as he watched her naked body in front of him.

 - “God. Do you ever get tired.” Natali remarked briskly.

 - “I don’t.” Kol replied, seeing that she already fall back to sleep.

He learned better than to wake her up when she wants to sleep after not having sex for almost a week so he let her to sleep this off. He still wasn’t sure how she managed to resist him, but she did.

⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡

Kol and Natali were walking through the streets of Amsterdam, enjoying the summer weather that Netherlands city was experiencing. During the day Amsterdam was completely different to what Kol had seen at night. It was strange - even though he had set foot on the same path just a night ago. The glowing, neon lights that screamed sex were gone, replaced by the sun, which made everything look clean and bright.

Natali also liked Amsterdam, this of course wasn’t her first time here. She liked the canals, liked the small streets leading to who knew where and most of all she liked the people, of better say how they taste.

Natali paused for a second, her foot halfway in the air. Then she took a step back.

 - She took a better look at the inside of one bar they just came upon, “Is that Rebekah?” she asked, seeing a blonde girl in the distance that looked a lot like Rebekah.

Kol’s gaze looked at the same direction as hers and instantly with a grab of her hand he confirmed that in fact it was Rebekah. He opened the door of the bar and they walked in, holding hands tangled together.

Kol eyes glanced over the people at the bar, before they headed towards Rebekah. When they were few feet away they saw that she wasn't alone, Matt Donovan was sitting across from her and they seemed like they just finished their drinks. The two of them stood up from their table just when Natali and Kol came.

 - “Sister, fancy seeing you here.” Kol remarked looking at his sister with an amused smirk on his face.

 - “Kol.” Rebekah exhaled, looking at her brother.

 - “Why didn't you tell us you will come here?” Kol asked her.

 - “I don’t need to inform you where I’m going.” Rebekah replied grumpy.

 - Kol chuckled looking down for a brief moment, “I mean you probably saw on social medias that we are here. But you didn’t called us to hang out.” he told her.

 - Rebekah rolled her eyes, “I did saw. And I didn't expect to came upon you two in this big city.” he spoke quickly.

 - “Ouch Rebekah.” Kol laughs, “We’re not that bad company.”

 - “I’m just still annoyed by you.” Rebekah replies.

 - “We should go.” Matt dares to speak, when he noticed that Kol might change his mood. He takes Rebekah’s hand to drag her away, but he was stopped when suddenly Kol violently smashed a bottle on the edge of a table and holds up the jagged remnant in his hand. The two of them jumped in fright. Rebekah knew how dangerous Kol can be when he is becomes angry. He becomes unpredictable.

 - “You’re not going anywhere.” Kol replies, then he smirks at his sister, “I see you finally got the quarterback to pay attention to you.”

 - “Kol please, don’t make a scene.” Rebekah snapped at her brother.

 - “It makes me angry that you can't get over the fact that you won't have a cure.” Kol shot back, “Not to mention ignoring my texts. We were just trying to protect you, like we always do.”

 - Rebekah shakes her head, “I don’t want to talk about it now.” she told him firmly.

Kol nodded, smiling bitterly.

 - Then he turned his attention towards Matt, “How's the throwing arm, champ?” he asked, before he threw the broken bottle at Matt’s shoulder.

Matt groans in pain, bringing his hand up towards the broken bottle.

 - “Kol!” Rebekah screamed, “Don’t ask me ever again why I don't want to forgive you.” she told him.

 - “You care more about this pathetic human than me.” Kol snarled.

Natali exhaled a deep breath. If she knew he would snap like this, she would never mention that she saw Rebekah.

 - “Personally I think he is just using you, like very other men you ever fell in love with.” Kol continued, his glare fixed on Rebekah.

 - Rebekah shoot him an angry look, “You’re unbelievable.” she hissed.

Then Rebekah and Matt left, Kol wanted to go after them, but Natali stopped him not wanting to make his sister even more mad. She knew how much Kol is upset because Rebekah doesn't want to forgive him as easily as she forgives Klaus. So it’s best if he doesn't piss her off even more than he already did.

The two of them stayed at the bar. They ordered drinks and were sitting in silence, until they didn’t heard an unfamiliar voice behind them saying, “Whether my eyes are deceiving me or you’re really the infamous queen of Saint Tropez? “

 - They both turned to look at the guy behind them, “And who are you supposed to be..?” Natali questioned, raising her eyebrow.

 - Guy smiled slightly, “No one. I just wanted to say I enjoyed watching you dance in that club called “Eternal Night” he told her, remembering that night.

 - “What?” Kol suddenly burst out, Is that what you were doing while I saw in the box?” Having other guys watch you dance? he questioned, becoming angry again.

 - Natali sighed and ignored him so she can get rid of the guy who just ruined her night, “How is that you’re alive? We kill every human that takes a step into that club?”

 - “Well apparently I had some vampire blood in my system.” The guy told her.

 - “Are you even listening to me?” Kol asked, a bit louder.

 - Natali looked at him, “Yes, they watch me dance, but we also kill everyone. This one is just an exception since he became a vampire.” she told him.

 - “Then I think I should kill him.” Kol spoke, standing up from his bar chair.

This was just the thing he needed after seeing Rebekah with Matt, who he despised as much as the rest of the Mystic Falls gang.

 - The guy backed away, “I-I don’t want any trouble.” his voice was shaky.

 - “And I don’t want guys hitting on my girl.” Kol told him dangerously.

 - “I didn’t realized that you two are together.” The guy spoke quickly.

 - “Well we are, mate.” Kol tells him, grabbing onto the collar of his t-shirt.

And a moment later Kol had chucked the man across the bar. He hit a far wall before falling to the floor.

Before he stood up from the ground Kol zoomed towards him and plunged his hand into his chest, grabbing a hold of his heart.

 - “Please, do-” The guys opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off as Kol ripped his heart out of his chest. He dropped the heart onto the floor and heard Natali’s voice behind him, “Could you be more jealous?”

 - Kol turned towards her, smirking he said, “You didn’t dance for me for a long time.” he reminded her, “Maybe you could redeem for allowing others to watch you dance while I’m not around to kill every one of them.”

 - Natali grinned, “It would be my pleasure.” she told him seductively and bit her lower lip slowly on a naughty grin.

⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡

As they walked into their hotel room, Natali pushed Kol onto the sofa. Then walked towards her laptop to find a song she can dance to. She pressed a play button and the song “Meg Myers - Desire (Hucci Remix)” began.

Feeling the music she closed her eyes and brought her hands up, touching her hair. She started out slow, swaying her hips.

Feeling the music she closed her eyes and brought her hands up, touching her hair. She started out slow, swaying her hips.

When she looked at him her eyes slanted with a glint of evil and seduction. She walked up to him and started dancing in front of him, almost but not quite between his knees. Everything she did was mesmerizing. Kol watched as she danced her dance with a smirk at his ‘excitement’.

・ • ・ • ・

I wanna feel YOU, I want it ALL.

I wanna feel YOU, I want it ALL.

I want it ALL,

I want it ALL.

・ • ・ • ・

Kol planted his hands on her tights and vowed to keep them there. She didn't just dance, she undulated, upper torso moving in the opposite direction to her gently swaying hips.

Her arms reached teasingly towards him, fingers moving as if to wave through his hair, almost but not quite touching him. He held his breath, hoping, but then she backed off a step.

・ • ・ • ・

Baby, I want to touch you,

I wanna breathe into your will.

・ • ・ • ・

Then started dancing again, eyes half closed as if she heard some mysterious inner rhythm more seductive than the song that was  playing in the back of the room with a bit of a dark vibe. Those endless legs, arched to a beautiful shape by her high heels, begged for the touch of his hands. She was supple as silk, he could see it, yet warm, soft and living. Carved exactly where she should be. Her nipples trust provocatively under her t-shirt at him, as she shimmied, moving closer and closer.

・ • ・ • ・

See, I gotta to hunt you,

I gotta to bring you to my hell.

・ • ・ • ・

And then she was right in front of him again, just inches apart. She moved herself onto his lap and slowly in the rhythm with the sexy tempo she was brushing herself against him.

It took every ounce of willpower he had, but he managed not to touch her. He loved when she leads the foreplay.

・ • ・ • ・

Baby, I wanna fuck you, I wanna feel you in my bones.

・ • ・ • ・

She rubbed herself against him, letting him feel the soft warmth of her breaths and then moved away again, dancing lazily while they watched each other in the dim light. He looked at her with a hunger flashing through his eyes and she smiled devilishly at him.

Kol gestured for her to come closer, but she shook her head with a half smile, before reaching her hands behind her back so she can unzip her skirt. He blinked as he watched her skirt hitting the ground.

・ • ・ • ・

Boy, I'm gonna love you, I’m gonna tear into your soul.

・ • ・ • ・

Few seconds later she walked back towards him. She placed her palms on the sides of his neck and straddled his hips on her knees to sit on his lap. She leaned forward and with the tip of her tongue she licked the spot on his neck just below the ear - the moist sensation making him aching for more.

・ • ・ • ・

Desire, I'm hungry, I hope you feed me.

・ • ・ • ・

She heard him suck his breath in and he reached with his hand for her shirt, but she pushed them down placing them onto her hips. Kol slid his hands lower and squeezed her butt, the pads of his fingers stroking along the hem of her panties and and she let out a soft moan into his ear.

・ • ・ • ・   

How do you want me, how do you want me?

・ • ・ • ・

Natali lowered herself fully onto his lap and immediately felt his hardness. The heat that met her, made her ache. So hard.. she rubbed herself against him to ease it. Their eyes met, ablaze.

When their lips jointed, it was as if they were on fire. They kissed hard, as she slid her hands  under his t-shirt, exploring his perfectly shaped abs. Kol could feel the firmness and warmth of her breasts against his chest.

・ • ・ • ・

How do you want me, how do you want me?

・ • ・ • ・

She tugged on his t-shirt and breaking the kiss she pulled it over his head. Then she kissed down to his jaw and then onto his neck, teasing him with brief sweep of her mouth. Kol tipped his head back and stifled a groan. She gazed her finger over the other side of his neck and then buried them into his hair. His groan escaped him this time, the feel of her nails against his scalp.. too good to contain. She sighed, her breath skimming hotly over his throat, and continued to kiss and suck it, driving him wild with the desire to feel her fangs pressing into his flesh. Knowing exactly what he wants, she bit his neck. The familiar taste of his blood washed into her mouth. At the same time, she ran her flat hand firmly down his chest and abs to the buckle of his jeans. She cupped the bulging denim pushing out the zip.

・ • ・ • ・

Boy, I wanna taste you, I wanna skin you with my tongue.

・ • ・ • ・

Suddenly she was standing in front of him again, bringing him back to reality for a brief moment, before she took off his jeans in one quick movement and leaned forward kissing him with feather light kisses down his chest as she slowly dropped her knees onto the floor. She gently kissed his stomach as she slipped her hands around his waist and pulled his down the sofa slightly. She gently kissed his stomach again, her hot breath against his skin making him moan louder. She gently, partly removed his boxers to reveal him underneath. He moaned heavily, as she ran the tip of her tongue up the length of him then took him in her mouth. She sucked gently, as he threw his head back and writhed with ecstasy. She held him tighter in her hand and sucked a little harder. She took the entire length of the enlarged shaft into her sensual mouth, holding it a moment before sucking it, then forcefully running her tongue over it, in turns. He was trembling all over in pleasure, his breath uneven as sweat stood out over his entire body. She was bringing him closer and closer to his much needed release. But as he was near the edge of his completion, she slowed down the licking and sucking, cruelly drawing out in pleasure and finally removed his shaft completely from her mouth.

・ • ・ • ・

I wanna feel YOU, I want it ALL.

I wanna feel YOU, I want it ALL.

・ • ・ • ・

Kol’s eyes had been closed in ecstasy but now he opened them, giving her a pleading look. Then he grabbed her chin and pulled her to be the same face level with him before hungrily capturing her mouth with his, tearing her panties from her body with one hand and ripping his nails into her back with other.

She straddled his hips again and took his cock in her hand and guided him in - both of them letting out a loud moan as she pushed down on him. They kissed passionately as she moved slowly to begin with, almost tesing him with her hot flesh. Kol finally got a chance to take off the last piece of clothes off of her body and then ran his fingertips over her nipples, she gasped and pushed a little harder.

・ • ・ • ・

DESIRE, I'm hungry I hope you feed me.

・ • ・ • ・ 

He leaned forward and teased her nipples with his tongue. She moaned and bit into her lip, before she felt his fangs bit into her breast, just above her nipple. She arched her back, letting out a moan as overwhelming pleasure swept over her. He kept her in a tight hold as his tongue laved her nipple while he drew on her blood.

Kol growled as her hands curled into his hair. He ran his hands up her back to her shoulders and dug his nails in deep, pulling her down harder and faster. Then released his bite on her breast and lifted his head to meet her gaze. Leaning closer to her, his mouth brushed over hers as he spoke; Cum for me, darling.

・ • ・ • ・

I wanna feel YOU, I want it ALL. I wanna feel YOU, I want it ALL.

・ • ・ • ・

Natali nodded slightly, almost not noticeable. Just a moment later Kol kissed her deeply as he started rapidly thrusting into her. She dug her nails into his shoulder as he pushed her over the edge, then broke the kiss letting out one last moan. Once more he pulled her down hard on him, as they both exploded with ecstasy.

Natali placed her head onto his shoulder and they held each other tight as they both caught their breath.

 - Kol slowly and gently moved her hair behind her ear, then whispered in a husky voice, “You’re the best, darling.”

 - Smile swept over Natali’s face, “I know, love.” she paused and chuckled; And besides you don't know about the others, since we been together for eight hundred and sixty years.

Kol chuckled lightly and as he didn't say anything right away Natali pushed herself  against his chest, “You haven't been with another woman, have you?” she asked looking straight into his cheerful eyes.

 - “No, darling.” Kol shook his head quickly answering, “Why would you even think that?”

 - “Just checking.” Natali replied dryly.

 - “But you have.” Kol spoke and she narrowed her eyes at him, “You’ve been with other guys while I was in the box.”

 - Natali bit the inside of her cheek, before looking down, “Well I’m going to get a shower now.” she told him changing the subject. Knowing that it won't lead to anything good, “Are you coming?” She asked him as she lifted herself up.

 - Kol grabbed her hand and pulled her back onto him, “You’re changing the subject.” he stated.

 - “I don't want to fight with you, because of some stupid things.” Natali told him firmly, trying to stand up again, but he didn't let her.

 - “It’s not a stupid thing, but okay I understand.” Kol spoke, moving his hands up and down her back.

 - Natali quirked her eyebrow, “You do?”

 - “Yes. I would do the same if you were in a box for three hundred years.” Kol told her.

 - Natali felt hurt in that moment, probably less then Kol was, but she kept a straight face, not showing it, “Well now that we discussed that, let’s get a shower.” she told him briefly and when he loosened his tight grip on her she pulled him towards the bathroom.

⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡ ⚜ ✡

MASTERLIST

Tags: @mikaelsonsmagic   @p3nny4urth0ught5   @cute-freak27   @ias-born  @superhalsteads  @characterobsessed   @hinata7346

A\N: This was HOT, wasn’t it? 😂 I wrote this months ago and now while I was reading it I was like “Oh god did I really write all of this?” I hope no one felt too uncomfortable.

[readitandreddie]

rough

pairings: reddie

A/N: i wrote this back in december on a03 and i’m about to post chapter two this weekend so i figured i’d post it on tumblr! 

Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak is 17 and wants to be the perfect son, even if that means harming himself or others along the way. 

Word Count: 1.8k.

WARNINGS: MAJOR SELF HARM. LIKE GROSS. Angst out the ass. Abuse, violence, blood, mental illness, homophobia. 

Tugging the hem of his red shorts as high as they could possibly go, Eddie exhaled the breath he had been holding. Looking down at his legs to see the scars from the past few months were starting to fade away except for the couple from a few days ago. Running his fingertip down the jagged lines, he felt his heart sink.

Why couldn’t he be normal and like girls? Just the thought of when Bev had kissed him playing spin the bottle made him want to hurl. He would never admit it to himself, but the only person he wanted the bottle to land on was Richie.

Richie. If it hadn’t been for him maybe Eddie wouldn’t be in this position. They had been best friends since before he could remember. It wasn’t until he was 16 when all of his friends were getting dates, Eddie felt himself becoming jealous that Richie was flirting with all of these random girls.

He remembers that night he decided he should tell his mother how he was feeling, wondering if it was normal. To say the least, Mrs. Kaspbrak was pissed.

You’re sick Eddie. Good boys like you only like girls. Don’t you wanna be good?

”Yes mommy.” 

Those words repeated every time he pressed the razor into his skin.

Biting his lip, Eddie reached into his fanny pack for the package of gum that hid his razor and held the metal between his thumb and finger. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. You can’t like him. It’s not right. His thoughts were so loud he couldn’t hear over them if he tried.

Making a quick slit into his right leg, Eddie exhaled, feeling release rushing over him. As nice as the high felt, it went away as quick as it came. More. Shaking now, Eddie aligned the edge under the last slit and pressed. A hiss escaped his lips as he went deeper and drug it along his leg. You deserve this, you know you do. You’re sick. Tears had escaped during this, feeling pain rush to his leg.

The shaking had gotten worse as he reached for the miniature bottle of hand sanitizer that was sitting next to him and dropped it on the floor, making the boy jump. Eddie slowly placed two fingers on the outsides of the cut and bit his lip as hard as he could, knowing this was going to hurt like literal hell.

A yelp slipped out of his mouth as his fingers started moving away from the other, opening the cut he had just made. It was burning, badly. The feeling of his skin tearing was new, but he hoped this would fix him.

Finally releasing the pressure off of his legs, Eddie managed to grab the bottle of sanitizer and pop the lid open with his thumb. Clean. Clean. He needed to be cleansed. The pills aren’t helping you. You know you still like him. Lifting the bottle a couple inches above the now gaping cut, he felt himself squeeze and saw the liquid drop into his leg.

“Oh my- fuck! Fuck!” Eddie screamed, not being able to hold back his emotions. His leg was stinging, bad. Sobs escaped the boy trying to process the pain. This was undoubtedly the worst pain he had experienced, next to breaking his arm a few years back after falling off his bike. A part of him felt lucky that his mom was at work, while another part wished she would come to his rescue.

Sometimes Eddie wondered what things would be like if his mom had just loved him for him, instead of trying to change him. Would he be able to hold Richie’s hand in public? Could he wear that pair of black shorts he bought at a thrift shop with a small rainbow patch on the side for the first time? Could he be happy?

The hand sanitizer had seemed to stent the clotting process and the blood just kept coming and coming until it was running down Eddie’s leg onto the bed sheets. He needed to move before it got any worse.

Grabbing onto the bed frame Eddie lifted himself to the floor putting his weight on his uncut leg, but felt his head start to feel more like an air balloon. Sitting back down, he closed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose trying to regain his strength. Consciousness was starting to slip and Eddie wondered if this what it felt like.

-

The next morning Eddie woke up freezing. He had passed out and slept in shorts and t-shirt. This normally would’ve been fine but being in November, he was fucking freezing right now.

Slowly sitting up, Eddie’s eyes were glued to the cut that now had a purple bruise around it with the dried blood. He wondered when he finally stopped bleeding last night. Looking over at the clock, 7:34 a.m. Ugh. School was going to suck today. He contemplated staying home, but knew that would require his mom scheduling a doctor appointment. And that wasn’t a risk worth taking.

After rummaging through his drawer, he managed to put on the baggiest pair of sweatpants he owned. There was no way jeans were being worn today. The bike ride to school was uncomfortable, but bearable compared to the pain from last night. He hadn’t realized that this cut was going to make his whole leg sore.

-

The first few periods went quick. He was lucky enough to be assigned work and not have time to converse with the losers until lunch came.

“H-hey Eddie.” Bill greeted him as Eddie had walked over to the usual lunch table. They must’ve still been in the lunch line. Good. He didn’t want to see Richie.

“Hi, how was the History test?” Eddie asked, wanting to keep the conversation as normal as possible. If he even hinted at being upset he knew it wouldn’t take long before the whole club knew and he was being interrogated.

“G-good. Fairly easy i-if you s-studied.” Bill answered and took a bite from the sandwich his mom had packed him.

Shit. Eddie hadn’t had any time to study since the events of last night. He couldn’t let his grades start slipping too or his mom might lose it. He wasn’t going to eat anyway so taking this time to study alone sounded great.

“I should go do that, tell the guys I said hi.” Eddie exclaimed, taking off before Bill had the chance to say anything.

A few seconds later Stan, Richie, and Bev arrived at the lunch table laughing Rich had said. It didn’t take but a second to realize Eddie wasn’t sitting in his usual spot.

“Hey Bill, have you seen Eds? Chicken and Noodles day is his favorite. I figured he already would be wanting seconds.” Rich asked, shoving a fork into the mashed potatoes.

“Y-yeah he went to s-study for the History test. I think he-he forgot.” Bill replied, giving a slight frown but quickly turned his attention to Bev.

Richie wondered to himself if he should go offer to help but quickly stopped himself. Whenever he reached out to the boy, even if it was just to hangout, he was shot down the past couple months.

-

Eddie found an empty bathroom to move into for the next half hour and opened the History book to begin studying. It felt nice sitting in the quiet until he heard the door fling open.

He didn’t hear any talking, which confused Eddie but he figured it was just some underclassman. That is until he saw a pair of black leather boots stand in front of his stall. Fuck. Henry Bowers.

He kept his lips pressed together as hard as they could and held his breath. Go away. Please go away. He was wishing he hadn’t left the lunch table at this point.

“Is my favorite little queer in there?” Henry asked, leaning even closer to the stall door. Eddie could hear the smirk in his voice which only made it worse. Silence.

Henry started banging his hand on the door at this point causing a jump from Eddie, letting the History book fall to the bathroom floor.

“Come out come out, or it’ll just be worse on you!” Henry stated, raising his voice to show how inferior he was to Eddie. He couldn’t move, so he figured begging was the only way out.

“Henry p-please stop. I’ll give you my lunch m-money, okay?” Eddie pleaded, wanting out of this situation.

A laugh that sounded like victory came from Henry’s mouth. Oh shit. Did he just give him what he wanted? Eddie remembered what Richie said to do if these assholes were causing him shit. “Just punch them in the dick Eds. It’ll be hard finding it but they’ll go cry to their mama’s. Don’t be scared, they like that too much.”

Henry started fumbling with his pocket knife onto the door lock until he got it open. A grin came across his face seeing Eddie sitting there staring like he had just saw a ghost.

“Should’ve just came out instead of making things so hard on yourself, hm?” Henry asked before grabbing Eddie by the shoulder blade pulling him out of the stall.

Don’t cry. You can do this. Eddie kept his eyes glued on Henry as he was shoved against the painted brick wall. A few blows to the stomach were nothing he couldn’t handle. Eddie focused on the chipping paint behind Henry as the punches got more intense. Just get through this.

Henry stepped back getting ready to kick him in the crotch as Eddie slammed his eyes shut. His boot had landed about six inches away, but was spot on the cut on his leg.

Eddie yelped at this point feeling the hot tears breaking past his eyes. Too much. Henry perked up at the sudden pain he caused.

“Bingo. What do we have here?” Henry asked, smiling from ear to ear as he went to yank his jeans partially down to see the infected cut. Eddie couldn’t stop the tears at this point.

“Jesus Christ! Who knew our little twink cut himself? Let me help.” Henry reached into his back pocket for the switchblade and smiled seeing Eddie crying so hard. He must get off on this. No one should be this mean.

Henry didn’t hesitate to drag the blade across Eddie’s leg. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Eddie stopped counting after a minute or so gaining the courage to fight back.

“Get. Off. Me.” Eddie screamed, trying to knee Henry in the balls but being pressed back into the wall. Why couldn’t he be stronger.

“Little shit!” Henry exclaimed, grabbing the younger boys arm and spitting in his face before the bell rang initiating that lunch had just ended. 

Eddie slid down the bathroom wall sobbing as Henry rinsed the knife and walked out of the bathroom. No more. No more.

Eddie scrambled to pull his pants up and rolled his sleeve back down, wincing at the sudden stinging. There was no point grabbing his books, he just wanted to leave. No more.

[scramblingminds]

Anon I hope you like angsty fluff, or is it fluffy angst. Either way, it is adorable lol maybe.

Cold Shoulder

Daryl didn’t get it, he didn't get Paul's attitude. The scout kept brushing him off or flat out ignoring him since Daryl came to Hilltop to help with their planting. They had never been too close but had always tolerated each other. Daryl was man enough to admit he did like the other man far more than he did at first. Paul had been nice from the start, even flirting a few times which just seemed to be his nature. Over the last months though, something had changed.

Paul had rolled his eyes at Daryl the day before when the archer asked if he needed help with his seeding. Daryl hadn't meant offense, he was just done with his section and was offering some assistant. The scout had scoffed, "No, thanks."

Daryl left very confused. Paul had been so different after he found Daryl at Sanctuary and had even let him stay in his trailer with him. Now he could barely get a soft expression from the man. Apparently, Daryl wasn't the only one to notice because that morning Maggie snagged Daryl on his way through Barrington House.

"I need you to go on a hunt, we need more meat to cure," She requested and Daryl nodded before she continued, "Take Jesus with you."

Daryl wanted to take back his nod, "I can handle it."

"You've seen our storage sheds for meat, one person can't carry back that much stock," Maggie patted his arm, "Besides, I think you and him need to talk."  

Daryl knew he couldn't deny her but he still grumbled, "I didn't do nothin' to him."

She shook her head, smiling as she moved to her office and Daryl headed out of the house. He swung by the armory and grabbed one of the hunting rifles with a handful of extra bullets. He hesitated at Paul's door, telling himself to stop being a bitch before knocking.

The door swung open after a moment, Paul looking at the gun in Daryl's hand and sighed, "What do you want?"

"We're going hunting," Daryl almost sneered as Paul snorted, "Maggie's orders, prick."

Paul shifted on his feet, biting his lip before throwing his hands up, "Fine."

He left the door open as he moved back inside to pull on his coat and snapped his knife belt in place. Daryl tossed him the rifle as he came out the door, Paul glaring as he caught the weapon and Daryl smirked. Daryl pulled his crossbow off his back and they headed for the gate.

They were about a mile out and Daryl hadn't found the trail of anything worth pursuing yet. Paul was silent at his side, bright eyes moving around looking for signs too. It was almost nice, almost how it was before Paul's big attitude change. It had been like a switch got flipped. It happened after the Savior's got out and attacked the communities.

After that night hiding in the sewers they had headed for Hilltop. Daryl's eyes had landed on Paul first, something they had started doing that he couldn't stop. Daryl had moved to talk to him, to check on him and Paul had snapped at him. Saying he wanted to be left alone and Daryl had never heard his voice so harsh before. Daryl did leave him be and figured Paul would come back around, but so far he hadn't.  

Daryl was getting use to Paul's short responses and the way he would leave the area that Daryl was in. Daryl didn't like it but he didn't have a right to make Paul stay around him. They weren't even friends after all.  

Daryl glanced over as Paul swung the guns strap over his shoulder and dug in his pocket. He twisted his hair up with his other hand as he pulled out a hair tie. The bun was sloppy and loose at his nape but it suited him. Paul glanced over and their eyes met, "How long are you going to have us wondering around out here?"

Daryl grimaced, there went that almost peace between with, "Until we find some game."

"We have passed like two dozen squirrels, I thought you liked those." Paul smirked.

"Ya wanna fill a shed with squirrel meat?" Daryl snipped back and Paul sniffed at his tone.  

Paul looked like he might have something else to say but Daryl pressed his hand to his mouth. Paul squeaked at the touch as he looked at the disturbance in the underbrush. Daryl pulled his hand up to press his finger to his lips in a shushing motion before point at the trail.  

Paul huffed as he followed the redneck. Both of them moved soundlessly, as the tracks got cleaner and fresher. Daryl stopped, Paul effortlessly following his lead as the buck came into view. It was still a good distance away so Daryl tapped Paul's shoulder and pointed. Paul nodded bringing his rifle up to his shoulder and looking down the scope.

Daryl didn't even look at the deer. Watching Paul even his breathing out, tongue moving over his lower lip before he pulled the trigger. Paul grinned lowering the gun, turning his head to find Daryl smiling at him. They just stared at each other for a moment, the space between them warm like it used to be. Daryl watched how Paul's eyes shifted from green and blue in the canopy light, so bright and happy. Until the sound of a snarl had them both jumping.  

"Shit!" Daryl turned to find the walker tearing at the deer's side. Broken nails ripping flesh up and jagged teeth sink in.  

"Great job." Paul pulled a knife free and with the snap of his wrist it was buried in the walker's skull.

Daryl gave him a disbelieving look as Paul moved to retrieve his blade, "How the fuck was that my fault?"  

Paul wiped his knife on his pants leg before sheathing it. He bit his lip, nudging the now useless deer with his boot, "We might've seen the walker before it got a taste if you..."

Daryl crossed his arms, making a noise that could only mean for Paul to continue. Paul kicked the deer, "If you hadn't been making googly eyes back there."

Daryl choked on his breath, about to yell, what he was going to say he didn't know but it wasn't going to be nice. He didn't get the chance to because the snarls this time were louder. Daryl and Paul turned to find walkers stumbling around tree and out of bushes, it was a whole herd of them.  

"Run!" Daryl ordered and Paul didn't argue.  

They turned and took off in the opposite direction. Darting through trees as the groans stayed on their tails. Paul stumbled to a stop, Daryl nearly knocking him over he was so close to his back. Daryl saw what made him stop, a gully cut into the ground. It was deep, the water at the bottom flowing quickly from the recent rains.

Daryl looked behind him, the herd was spread wide, if they took off one way or another they this had a big risk of being grabbed. Daryl saw a few yards down a large tree on the edge of the drop off and shoved Paul toward it. The scout sprinted over to it, the closest limb was still a good five feet over their head but it could easily hold some weight.

Daryl skidded to a stop behind him, crouching down and locking his fingers in front of him, "I'll hoist ya up then ya give me a hand."

"Got it." Used Daryl's shoulders for balanced as he stepped up. Daryl grunted as he stood up straight, lifting Paul until the smaller man's hands got hold of the branch. Daryl gave on last shove and Paul threw his leg over, turning with a gasp, "Daryl."

Daryl grinned up at him before turning around, bow swinging off his back into his hands. Paul reached his hand down franticly, "C'mon Daryl."

The first walker was only a few feet away. Daryl let a bolt fly, then another until he was out. There was over a few dozen of them stumbling in on him. Daryl sunk his knife into one's skull as a bullet took out one to his left. Daryl glanced up to see Paul sitting on the branch, face set hard as he aimed and fired. Daryl took a step back, twisting around with a walker following. It lost its foot and tumbled down the gully.  

"You're a damn idiot." Paul complained as his gun clicked, empty.  

Daryl couldn't argue as he stabbed one walker and another grabbed his arm. A third slammed into the mass of struggle bodies and Daryl stumbled back under the weight, dropping his bow in favor of being able to use both of his hands. He was barely keeping teeth a bay, his leather jacket luckily blocking any nails from scoring over his skin.

Daryl's stomach dropped as his boot sunk, "Oh fuck."

"Daryl?" Paul looked down at him wide eyed as another undead body joined the clump.

The world dropped from under Daryl. It was a tangle of rock and dirt as he fell backward. Rotting limbs flailing in his face and knocking against him as they tumbled down the gully. Daryl cried out when he reached the bottom, water filling his mouth as he struggled to get his feet under him. The rocks were slick and water deeper than it appeared.

"Damn it." Daryl wheezed as one of the walkers oriented itself and floundered toward him. Daryl's boots slipped and the current caught him.

"Daryl!" Paul's voice sounded frantic as Daryl looked up. His eyes barely locking on Paul's horrified face before he got swept downstream with a walker scrambling at his jacket. More bodies jostling against him in the flow.

Daryl somehow didn't drop his knife in the ordeal and even between trying to grab hold of anything managed to take care of the walker. His shoulder protested as he got hold of larger rock, shaking water out of his eyes as he pulled himself onto it since it was rougher than the ones on the creek bed. He coughed, rubbing at the water stinging his eyes and found his hand coming back red.  

His fingers found the source quickly, not a bite but he must have hit it on something jagged at some point. Daryl blinked, getting his bearings and thankfully he didn't seem to have gone far downstream. He could see that the gully had shortened some, he could climb the sides easily enough.  

Daryl was careful as he crossed to the dry land, more walkers gurgling by from time to time. His body ached as he dragged himself up the incline, trying not to remember the last hill he had to climb like this. Daryl groaned as he reached the top, arms shaking from exertion as he told a few deep breaths.

"DARYL?!" Daryl's head snapped up at Paul's voice.  

The ninja came running, gun and Daryl's bow dropping from his hands. His knees hit the ground with a skid as he reached the drenched archer. Daryl didn't get to say anything as arms went around his neck and pulled him close.

"Are you alright? Did you get bit? Oh my god, I thought my heart was going to stop." Paul rambled against Daryl's neck before he sat back. Eyes moving over every inch he could see, fingers finding the gash on Daryl's temple and sighing when he found it wasn't fatal.  

"I'm okay." Daryl managed to get out, shocked by the concern and affection on Paul's face as he moved his hands over Daryl's battered body.

"Thank god." Paul whispered looking at the gash again.

"I thought ya hated me." Daryl blurting, feeling like a total idiot as Paul paused in his petting, it had been nice.  

Paul blushed, Daryl's eyebrows going up at the sight. The ninja cleared his throat, licking his bottom lip as he moved to rest his hands on Daryl's still dripping wet chest, "I don't hate you, I like you. A lot."

"Bullshit." Daryl's jaw dropped. Paul had been a complete ass to him for months now, Daryl didn't know much but he knew that wasn't how you treated someone you liked.  

"I'm serious," Paul ducked his head, "And I'm stupid."

Daryl blinked a few times and dared to bring his hands to rest on Paul's side, the guy was warm and Daryl might start shivering soon. Paul smiled at the touch, not slapping him away like he might have that morning. Daryl chewed on his lip, "I need some details here."

"I knew I liked you back on the road that day, I'm a sucker for a bad boy," Paul looked bashful, "Then everything happened with Negan, with Glenn and Abe and Sasha and Eric and my stupid brain got scared."

Daryl swallowed at the mention of his friends and Paul pressed on, "I thought, if I was mean to you then you would stop coming around and I could get over you. Then I wouldn't be so hurt if something happened to you."

"I didn't stop though." Daryl mumbled. He had still come to Hilltop, still tried to get Paul to open up to him like he used to.

Paul nodded, "No, you didn't. Then when you fell, Daryl, I think my heart literally stopped. It didn't matter what I tried, my feelings were still there and the thought of losing you..."

Daryl nodded, that had been why he made sure Paul got in the tree. He didn't want anything to happen to him, Daryl didn't know exactly what he felt for the scout but it was enough for him to be sure he wanted him alive.  

Paul lifted to his feet, helping Daryl to his own with a wince. Paul ran his fingers through Daryl's soaked hair, "I was more scared of losing you and never having given it a chance, you know?"  

Daryl nodded shaking from the chilly water and Paul's soft eyes. Daryl found the nerve to mumble, "It's worth a shot, at least."

Paul smiled, tipping up on his toes to breathe, "Yeah, it is."

Daryl tried to keep his teeth from chattering as Paul's lips met his. All warm and soft, his beard scratching at Daryl's whiskered chin. Daryl leaned in, Paul smiling against his mouth before he leaned back. Daryl teeth did chatter then and Paul laughed. Daryl blushed but he melted inside, it had been so long since he had heard that sound.  

"Let's get you home, patch you up and in a hot bath, huh?" Paul grabbed their weapons before coming back to Daryl's side, wrapping his arm around the redneck's back.

Daryl looped his arm around Paul's strong warm shoulders, "Ya trying to make me fall in love?"

Paul grinned at the joking and Daryl returned it, "That might just be the plan."

Daryl wouldn't admit it for weeks to come but it was a very good plan.  

[alexsunmners]

5 times we were never alone and the one time we were + Alex ❤️

Alex Summers + this prompt list

A/N: Karley my love I’m so sorry. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. @mvximoff @rax-writes wanna suffer too? anyway this is angst for days so enjoy y’all and also can anyone tell me what my damage is when it comes to water based metaphors bc idk wtf is going on there

inspired by (or something) neptune by sleeping at last

It was supposed to be just the two of you. It’s not, but itwas supposed to be. You smile tightly at Alex across the room, across the sofathat is now too full of your boyfriend’s friends to fit you next to him. Hesmiles tensely, apologetically back at you. I’msorry, his eyes say. I forgot youwanted it to be just us. I’m sorry. Your hands are cold as you twist anduntwist the hem of your sweater, another mechanical smile pulling at your lips.The movie on but it’s just background noise for you. It’s fine, you’ll tell Alex later. It’s fine. It doesn’t matter. We’ll have time for us another night.Maybe you’ll remember it when you’ve had a less stressful week.

Maybe he will.

He probably won’t.

You don’t want to fight with him. You never wanted to fightwith him, but it feels like you’re suffocating under the weight of things thatdon’t work about the two of you, and you’d swear you were never thisincompatible before. Funny how things work out like that sometimes.

The movie plays on and you keep twisting and untwisting thehem of your sweater and stare blankly at the TV screen as you think of ways toavoid fighting when the others all leave for the night.

Raven is waiting by the door, hovering with tension evidentin her face as you stare evenly back at Alex. You can feel the uncertaintyradiating from her and you know she doesn’t want to be here, doesn’t want tohave to be seeing this. It’s not her fault she’s seeing it, though.

“Alex, I told you. I can’t do tonight. I’ve been telling youall week that I’d be busy with the work function tonight.” Your chin is raiseddefiantly and you refuse to back down or to show the slightest sign ofweakness. He sets his jaw and exhales slowly.

“It’s another party. Do you have to go to another party withthe same twenty something people you’ve already met a hundred times-” he startsand you fold your arms.

“Yes, I have to be there, Alex. I have to go. I even askedif you wanted to go when it was first organised and you said no. Which is whyRaven is coming instead of you,” you remind him, a little too sweetly for theapology in your tone to be genuine.

There’s a pause that echoes sharply, like something isfracturing, breaking irreparably. Something is changing between the two of youand you don’t want to think about it right now, so you just smile tightly andmove to kiss his cheek and say “Another night, baby. I appreciate that youwanted time for just the two of us. Another night.”

You can feel him watching you as you turn on your heel and maketo leave, taking hold of Raven’s arm as you let the door swing shut behind you.

“So, how are you two?” The question hangs in the air, likebait in the water as the shark circles below, just out of sight. You risk aquick glance at Alex, offering him the chance to answer first, unsure just howmuch of the damage the two of you are willing to reveal to the other people atthe party. He meets your gaze and then as suddenly as if a switch has beenflicked, he smiles brilliantly and turns back to meet Betsy’s eyes.

“We’re great. Things have been busy lately, what with workand everything, but we’re both doing fine, if a bit tired.” You’ve only met heronce or twice before. She’s Warren’s girlfriend and she’s just trying to bepolite. She wouldn’t have known just how loaded the question she posed was. Alexcan feel the way your hand tightens slightly on his arm, and out of the cornerof your eye, you can see the way his smile flickers slightly, can feel the wayhis arm tenses briefly. The well-practiced façade of ‘fine’ is tired. Is rundown. Is barely believable.

The room is suddenly far too full and you wish you hadn’tcome to this party. You don’t even know who’s hosting. Someone from Alex’swork. Someone you’ve probably met before, but can’t remember. Maybe if youremembered who was hosting, you wouldn’t be fighting with Alex like youare-have been. Alex’s body temperature has always run high, but right now hisarm is ice cold under your touch, and you feel so distanced from yourself thatyou might as well be floating miles above everyone else.

The rest of the crowd is unaware of the tension risingbetween you and your boyfriend, but you feel it’s sharp talons dig into yourspine and you know they’ll stay there until you’re home, until the wave breaksand the latest fight begins.

You’re tired-so unspeakably tired. You’re sitting in bed,staring at a book you thought you wanted to read and wishing you were somewhereelse. You can hear the faint murmur of Alex’s voice in the next room, the lowanswering hum of Hank’s voice in response, but you can’t make out the words.You don’t think you want to. The exhaustion radiating through your body makes youfeel like you’re sinking down into the mattress and you’re hovering right onthe edge of dreamless, weary oblivion, but sleep isn’t overtaking you fast enoughto outrun your thoughts. You don’t know when loving him got this hard. Becauseyou do still love him, but these days, it doesn’t feel like loving him isenough to make things work for the two of you.

You haven’t fought much lately. It feels like you’re bothtiptoeing delicately around each other, hoping that the feigned peace willlast, hoping that if you pretend for long enough it might become real again. Itwon’t, and you both know it, and right now you’re too tired to let yourselfcling to a false hope. Your hands are numb as you set your book aside and you shiftonto your side, pulling the covers up to your chin and wondering idly if thingscould have been different.

Doesn’t matter now, though. Things aren’t different. Thingsare bad and you and your love and your exhaustion are caught right in themiddle of it all. There’s a low sigh from the other room and you hear Hank saysympathetically “I’m sorry,” and you wish you didn’t know what he wasapologising for, but you do. Or at least, you can guess. And you know it’s notHank’s fault.

You sit back against the sofa in the coffee shop, warmingyour hands against your mug of hot chocolate as you tune out the voices of Seanand Angel, chatting idly beside you, your gaze fixed on Alex’s back as he waitsin line for his coffee. It’s bittersweet as he glances back and smiles at you.You feel like you’re standing on thin, cracking ice, and there’s a pit in your stomachthat reminds you of falling. You’re tired and so is he. The carefullyengineered veneer of ‘fine’ is fractured almost beyond repair and you know yourfriends are all treading delicately around the both of you. The looks ofsympathy from the others is almost more painful than knowing that sooner orlater, you’ll have to call this whole thing off.

The hot chocolate burns your tongue a little as you take asip and you wonder absentmindedly if Alex can feel the end looming over the twoof you as clearly as you can. He glances back at you again, and the flicker ofsomething desperate in his eyes tells you he can. Maybe that’ll make it easier.Maybe it’ll feel more like falling asleep than drowning when you both finallylet go. You wonder if it would hurt less if you blamed him for it all. Even ifit might, you can’t find it in you to put all of the blame on him. It’s yourfault too.

The room is empty, except for the two of you and it feelslike the walls might cave in. He’s right there but there might as well be amillion goddamn miles between the two of you. You could reach out and touch himif you wanted to, but you’re afraid that if you try, your hand will pass rightthrough where it looks like he’s standing. It doesn’t feel real. None of thisfeels real. You force yourself to meet his gaze, dragging your own from yourfeet, your head feeling like it’s full of cement.

“Yeah. I get it. We-it-yeah.” The words slip numbly fromyour lips, and you’re barely paying attention to your actions. “I understand,Alex. It’s okay.”

It’s not okay. It’s the furthest thing from okay, but tryingto hold on, trying to prolong this would only make it worse. His brow isfurrowed and his eyes are distant and glassy and you wonder if you look likethat. Worse, probably.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. His voice is low and hoarse and alittle desperate. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be better for you.” His words are likea final plea for you to stop this, for you to reach out and take hold of himand pull him back to shore. You know that’s how he feels because you feel thesame way. But you know this has to be over. It’ll hurt, but if you cling tothis broken love you’ll only end up hating each other. You take a deep breathand square your shoulders.

“I’m sorry too. I hope-I hope we’re both happier after this.”This is the grown-up thing to do, you tell yourself. This is the right thing todo. It feels like you’re letting go of the safety raft, letting yourself driftaimlessly into the dark current. “I love you. I want you to be happy. And beinghappy means we have to call this off.”

Letting go feels a little like drowning, a little likefalling asleep. It’s different to how you thought but it doesn’t hurt any less.You smile sadly at him and reach out to squeeze his hand. He’s real. Hisfingers flex under your touch and he lets out a long, shuddery breath. “Yeah,”he says almost inaudibly. “This needs to be over, doesn’t it?”

Your smile has jagged edges and you can feel your head slippingunder the water, safety slipping from your grip.

“Yeah. It does.”

[unstable-reality]

The Space Between Echoes: Chapter One

On the eve of the Battle of Yavin, Jyn and Cassian are sent to scout out a new location for Alliance headquarters. They grow closer.

But as for the mission, well... It doesn't go quite as planned.

I’m playing fast and loose with Star Wars canon/lore with this; aiming more for the spirit rather than the word.

[AO3]

“It’s my right to be involved.”

She stood in the war room, leaning over the table, hands wrapped around its edge. The air buzzed with the sound of comlinks, of operators relaying instructions and confirming receipts. Half her face was bathed in the blue and green light of a nearby readout, and through its glow she perceived the rest of the space -- dark edges limned with emerald.

Across from her, General Draven draped his forearms over the back of a chair. Mon Mothma stood beside him, hands linked. It was surreal, to think that the last time Jyn had been party to such a scene, she’d been a prisoner, a bargaining chip. She was in a much better position, this time around.

Not that it was making a lick of difference.

“I’m sorry,” Mothma said. “I understand why you want to be a part of it, but that operation simply hasn’t a role for you.”

Draven straightened and took a step. “You aren’t a fighter pilot, Erso. You’re a thief.”

Her body grew stiff. “Oh, is that all I am? Still?” She lifted her chin.

“Not all, no; but still? Yes,” he responded. “It’s what you’re best at, isn’t it? It’s why you were able to accomplish what you did on Scarif. You scout. You case. You infiltrate.”

She narrowed her eyes. Only a few days had passed. Her injuries had not required full or even partial submersion; topical care had sufficed, and since being cleared, she’d wandered about in something of a daze. The initial rush of victory had given way to listlessness. She knew exactly where it came from, but she’d never been good at facing that sort of thing. She yearned for a distraction. She yearned to get back into the fight, to get out there and finish the task that had been given to her, that was made for her, that represented everything that moral duty alone could never get her to acknowledge.

The men and women around her, the strangers who now all seemed to know her intimately, could be a bit much. She’d been alone and drifting for so many years. But they were eager, as eager as she was, and she found herself feeding off their energy. The news about Alderaan only made them more impatient. And it made her burn, with fervor, to take her father’s sacrifice and transform it into something worthwhile.

When Mothma had summoned her, she’d hoped it meant the time had come. Now, it looked as if that might not be the case. It looked an awful lot like they might just sideline her, despite her history, despite what she’d done.

What would that mean for her? Would there be any reasons left for her to stay? Most of them were gone.

Most.

Mothma glanced at Draven and took a breath. “In light of recent events, we believe that the Empire will soon know the location of this base. We need to begin planning an evacuation. That requires the identification of a fallback position.”

Jyn frowned. “You don’t already have one?”

“There are several possibilities, but we need to make certain they’re still beneath the Empire’s attention before making a selection.”

She breathed, slow. Her gaze moved to the table. In its inert state, it was a simple star map, with the dark expanse of space carved into concentric circles. She had an inkling of where they were headed with this, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it.

“What’s that got to do with me?”

There was a pause long enough to make it obvious that the general wasn’t completely on board with his own proposal. “We would like you to formally join Alliance Intelligence.” His jaw tightened as he said it. “For your first assignment, you’d be deployed as a long-range scout, traveling to potential base locations and reporting back to us on their viability.”

The colors on the readout changed, becoming orange, red. Draven’s features shifted; in this light, he looked more gaunt. More tired. She didn’t want to do it. It made sense, if she thought about it. She was more suited to that sort of work and, well, she wasn’t a fighter pilot, and all of her training and soldiering had fallen into the “guerilla” category.

But it was her right.

“There must be something else,” she said. “I stayed with you to stop the planet killer, to convince you to stop it. I want to be here when it burns.” She rocked on the balls of her feet. “Set me up as an operator if you have to, but don’t send me away.”

“It’s not sending you away; it’s sending you where you’ll be the most useful.”

“I can be useful against the Death Star.” Only a fraction of her believed it.

“No. You can’t.” Draven sighed and shook his head. “Feel free to take it up with General Dodonna if you’d like; he’ll tell you the same thing. If you want to be a part of this fight, then this is what’s on the table, take it or leave it.”

She closed her eyes. Thought of her father. Thought of Saw. Causes were slippery things; she’d learned that from the latter.

Mothma cleared her throat. “It’s worth mentioning that you’d be Captain Andor’s partner on this mission.” The corner of her lips quirked upwards, and she shifted her weight. “He specifically requested you.”

Jyn blinked. She felt a tightening in her core, a tugging that was at once gentle and fierce.

Well. Her father had believed in the Rebellion, right? She could honor him, still, by working to keep it afloat.

She could honor other things, as well.

She closed a fist around her kyber crystal.

“Fine. When do we start?”

Cassian looked exhausted.

It took a fair bit out of a person, convalescing in a bacta tank, and he’d spent 16 hours floating in the one on base. He’d slept for a full solar day afterwards. She knew, because she’d asked after him, often enough that the medical droids had started being curt with her.

Their irritation had reminded her of K-2.

They moved through the interior of the temple, packs slung over their shoulders. It was always busy, always bustling, but at this moment, at this hour, activity had died down just enough for them to be able to comfortably walk abreast. She felt an urge to reach for his hand. She ignored it.

“No matter what they’ve told us, this is partly about loyalty,” he said. His gait had a hitch to it. Bacta couldn’t fix everything. “I disobeyed, and so did you; there can’t not be consequences for that. But they also can’t deny what we’ve done for them.” He shrugged. “So, this is what we get.”

“I take it you’re not thrilled with this, either.”

“No. I’d rather be here. Like you.” He shot her a glance. “But I also know that this is needed. And it’s better than nothing.”

They’d been briefed a few hours before, not long after she’d accepted the assignment. The sight of him, the first proper one she’d had since he’d been taken away from her after Scarif, had warmed her, had secured her in her decision. There were a handful of worlds, selected over months and years by various operatives. Cassian had been among those who’d cultivated contacts in the systems around them. His rank, combined with the breadth of his network, made him an obvious choice for the mission. But there were others who could have done it, and it wouldn’t have been remiss for the Alliance to have chosen them, particularly under the current circumstances.

They’d hadn’t, however. They’d decided that he was their man, and she wasn’t about to leave him when he wanted her. Not after he’d refused to leave her.

The corridor they travelled turned sharply right, and then opened onto the hangar bay. Several hundred feet of clay-colored cement lay before them, terminating in a darkness that clawed its way upward, to the tops of trees, to a jagged skyline that framed the purple-black of night sky, the pinprick glow of stars. Rebels hurried between ships, hopping over and around cables, shouting to one another, waving in sign. Some sat, or stood in circles. The air was filled with chatter.

Cassian dipped his head toward hers. “We could get lucky, of course. I’ve highlighted our best bets. If one of them pans out, we may be able to get back here in time for the show.” A cluster of laughter erupted to their right. “But I don’t have too much hope for that.” He leaned close. “Is that going to be a problem for you?” His breath tickled her ear.

“A little.” More than a little, really. “I wanna see that kriffing thing go down.”

“I know.” His fingers wrapped, briefly, around her upper arm. “Believe me, I know.”

He led her across the hangar, toward a wedge-shaped ship that was a handful of meters smaller than a U-wing. Ground personnel hovered about it. The hatch lay forward of its exhaust and just to the right of an upward slope, which evened out at the cockpit. She’d seen only a few such ships in her day. It had always been under illicit circumstances.

“Are we going to be smuggling on the side?”

He smiled at her. He hadn’t smiled much, if at all, when she’d first met him. “Some people transport goods legitimately, Jyn.”

She strongly doubted that “some people” would include him, if he’d ever had to bring in a haul. “If you say so.”

They boarded and made their way to the cabin; it had been divided into separate sections by thin, after-market plasteel walls -- a cheap, ad-hoc modification. Jyn chose a bunk, dropped her pack, shoved it underneath. Retrieved her blaster (if they were boarded...). Paused to think. She could hear Cassian moving about in the compartment to her right. Her stomach flipped; she took a deep breath, pursed her lips, let it out, slowly. Smiled, just a bit.

She thought of the moment they’d shared on Scarif, in the turbolift, and wondered.

The cockpit was a squat trapezoid; the seats were tucked close together, and lay barely half a meter from the door. When she entered, Cassian was already there, settled into the pilot’s seat, head tilted back, running through calculations. The engine hummed, and the comlink was a well of noise, singing with lilting tones, static, half-formed instructions. The channel was open. He lifted the headphones and settled them over his ears, didn’t bother to pull down the mic.

“Anyone who should know already does.”

She sat beside him. A half-realized notion, a sense that something was not quite right, teetered on the edge of her thoughts.

“We’re heading to Derso first,” he said. “It’s the most hospitable of our options.”

The engine’s hum galloped up a steep crescendo, became a roar. She gripped the arms of her seat.

It was always grueling to leave a world’s atmosphere. The thrust, the force of it, pushed one back, back, tried to bury. And the initial transition to light-speed improved upon that sensation. It felt, to her, as if her flesh was aiming to break free of her bones, as if her body desired nothing more than to stay in the space that it was leaving behind, while her spirit longed to sunder itself from it. There were equations, drawn up by people far smarter than she, that explained exactly what it was she was experiencing. But she didn’t see the point in knowing something if the knowing didn’t impact the doing.

“You all right?”

“Fine.” It had ended, in any case.

“Good.”

The stars had become a cascade of light, a stream of vibrant blue-white. The ship had become a gentle lullaby, consistent, true, lulling. Her body had caught up with her soul, but her stomach clenched with an unnameable anxiety.

“They’re naming a squadron after him.”

Jyn furrowed her brow. Cassian hadn’t spoken since they’d pulled away. “What’s that?”

“Bodhi.” His eyes met hers. “Rogue Squadron. It’s his.”

“Oh. Right.” Listlessness. “I’d heard about that.” She looked down. He’d known her father. He’d brought the task to her. He’d been very brave, braver than she had been or could ever be, surely. “I’m glad. He deserves it.” Deserved a hell of a lot more, if she had any say.

“Yes. He does.”

His hand brushed hers. Her fingers curled upwards and, for a moment, became linked with his.

That’s when she realized what was wrong: there was no droid with them.

“So,” she said. She was fidgety. “Where are we going if this place doesn’t work out?”

Their hands separated. He looked at her for a moment, considering, then pushed himself forwards and up, retrieved a sheet of flimsiplast from the inner pocket of his jacket. Handed it to her. On it was a list of systems, each bearing a mark to its left. “If it turns out we can’t use Derso, we have a few decent alternatives.” He leaned over her, and his scent and the heat of his body invaded her space. She breathed in. Her back arched. “But these I’d like to avoid, if we can help it.” His finger slid, paused, three times.

“I’ve heard of Borga.” Swamp planet. “Can’t blame you for not wanting to go there.” Wet and stinking and nigh impossible to properly land on and suitable only as, from what she’d been told, a last resort for the desperate. “What’s wrong with the other two?”

“Edelis is in a heavy volcanic period,” he replied. “And Hoth...” He paused. “Hoth is a frozen wasteland.”

She eyed him. The obvious question hung on her lips: you’re from Fest, aren’t you? But, of course, she wasn’t supposed to know that, and although he likely wouldn’t be surprised that she’d found it out, it was doubtful he’d appreciate the admission. Their brand of trust relied, at least in part, on them maintaining the polite fiction that they weren’t actually the people they were.

She dropped the flimsi onto the console, drew up her leg, settled her heel onto the edge of her seat. In the first year after Saw had left her, she’d picked up work as a farmhand. She’d needed credits, and lodging, and food, all of it badly enough to answer the first posting she’d come across. Her employers’ dwelling had sat at the crest of a gentle slope, half-submerged in the earth, surrounded by yellowing condensers. On an overcast day, when the air had been thick with moisture, and a near-constant breeze had sliced through her tunic, she’d looked over the space and felt her stomach lurch and her throat close. She hadn’t taken a farm job since.

“You like Yavin 4, don’t you.”

Silence, for a moment.

“Sure, I like it well enough,” he said. “It’s certainly not the worst place I’ve lived.” His forehead creased, and his eyes danced over her face. “Why?”

Because it’s nearly the opposite of what you want to avoid. “It suits you.”

He snorted. “It suits me? And what is that supposed to mean?”

Instead of replying, she rejoined their hands.