#his new patron called him a stupid man several times in different ways it was great tho

[airinn]

do you have any new Rhylerin things? i miss him sm 🥺

oh jeeze, nothing super new or recent drawing wise

but he has been sorta relevant in game for Kaz (as in Kaz finally found out what he'd been attempting to use Kaz for) so this pic I drew last year is very fitting lol

thank you for missing him, he doesn't deserve that HAHA

[miraclesabound]

My Hero

Summary: Luca helps Reader feel better after her date at his restaurant goes to shit.

Pairing: Luca/F!Plus Size!Reader, pre-relationship

Notes: I've been pondering this story for several weeks, and now I'm finally getting it down on paper.

Warnings: Date gone wrong, canon-typical language, self-esteem issues, mention of dirty thoughts, food and dessert descriptions, tiny bit of food kink?, past fat-shaming, still fluffy with a happy ending (mention of future relationship)

Tags: @pettyprocrastination @cinewhore @nolita-fairytale @phoenixhalliwell @grogusmum

"Chef, we have a problem at Table 5."

Luca sighs when Petra tells him this - she's his most trusted waitress, and she can usually handle anything on the floor. "What kind of problem?" he asks.

"The woman's date snuck out on her, and he stuck her with the check." Petra points out into the restaurant space, and Luca sees the patron in question. She's plump and pretty, but the way she's hunched over her table, Luca can tell how upset she is.

"Was the guy acting weird?"

Petra shrugs. "I mean, he was a little under-dressed, and he'd been twitchy. I guess he was looking for his opportunity to dash - he mentioned needing the bathroom, then he disappeared. That said, the lady has been lovely; I just hope this doesn't sour her on this place for good."

"Okay..." Luca ponders a minute, and then he takes his apron off. Calling to his staff, he says, "Chefs, I'll be right back, keep it moving!"

"Yes chef!" "Heard, chef!" Luca smiles to himself; he's always known his team is dependable.

--

When Petra comes back to check on you, she's not alone - she's accompanied by a striking man with dark blond hair and an attractive lift to his eyebrows.

"Petra, is this the manager?" you ask. "I'm good for the check, I wasn't trying to angle for a discount."

Petra shakes her head. "No ma'am - this is Chef Luca, our head of pastries. He just wanted to chat with you and see how you were doing." She pats your shoulder and takes her leave.

"May I sit?" Luca asks.

"Sure," you say. FUCK, he's cute - up close, you can tell that his nose and jaw could cut glass.

He sits across from you, and his expression is sympathetic. "Petra told me the basics - are you ok?"

"Well, like I said, I'm good for the check - but mostly, I feel stupid," you admit. "All the warning signs were there that this was a set-up."

"Oh?"

"Yeah - I'd known Oliver for five years, and he'd never gone out with anyone who....who's built like me - and then suddenly he says, "Oh, let's go to this great place I heard about, but can you put the reservation under your name?" We get here and Petra asks us about splitting the check - he says there's no need, it'll be just one check, and when I thank him, he says, "No, thank you for coming out." "

You pause, and then you groan in annoyance. "Shit, I bet he heard about me getting my inheritance from my aunt; that's why he knew I could afford this place."

Luca winces - he's heard of some cowardly shit in his time, but this is ridiculous. "That's the worst; I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, but thank you," you say. "Petra was great and it's sweet of you to check in." You pull out your purse. "I'll pay up and be on my way."

"Actually, do you have to go just yet?" Luca asks. "If you're not in a hurry, I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

Your mind briefly goes to a dirty place, but thankfully it doesn't show on your face. You put your purse back down and look at him questioningly. "What kind of favor?"

"I have a new dessert I'm working on, but I don't think it's quite right yet. Want to try a few samples and tell me what you think?"

That's not what you were expecting, but you won't argue with a handsome man presenting you with handmade delicacies either. You nod, and Luca signals Petra to the kitchen to get a tray together.

Petra returns with a plate full of different variations on the same dessert, along with a glass of sparkling water for a palate cleanser. Your eyes go wide - there must be a dozen different versions of this miniature treat in front of you. Each piece is unique, either by stacking order or by ingredient proportions.

"You don't mind me eating in front of you?" you ask Luca. Unfortunately, you've had it happen once where someone made oinking noises while you ate, and you've never quite lived it down.

"I wouldn't be in this business if I did," he reassures you.

"Ok, that's fair." Looking down at your platter, you decide to start from the left top corner and work your way down each column. It's hard not to notice Luca's eyes on you as you go through, but you figure he's just gauging your reactions.

It's all absolutely delicious, but there are samples that particularly stand out. When you're done, you have your answer. "Keeping in mind that I am the opposite of a professional at this sort of thing," you say, "I think if you took the stacking order of the third one - plum then chocolate then cookie - but then used the proportions of the seventh one where it's heavier on the chocolate than the other ingredients ... I think you'd have a winner."

Luca breaks out into a smile that makes your heart flutter. "I can see that," he agrees. "I'll test a full size version - and maybe you'd like to come back and try it tomorrow?"

"...Chef, are you asking for a food taster or for something else?" After the stunt Oliver pulled on you, you don't want any confusion.

"Well, let me put it this way," Luca says, helping you to your feet and hooking your purse over your shoulder. "If you were to come back tomorrow...there would be dinner before the new dessert premieres - if you're up for that?" He's still holding onto the strap of your bag, and it means you're looking right in his eyes.

"I am," you tell him with a smile. "And even if there weren't dinner, I'd still owe you for saving my night, so...yes. I'll be back tomorrow."

--

Years later, you and Luca still can't agree which of those nights actually counts as your first date. If someone were to ask Luca, he says it was the first night when you tried his desserts. If that same person were to ask you, you would say the dinner the next night was the change because that's when you had your first kiss.

Petra, who's no stranger to these conversations after all these years, keeps her opinions to herself - but in her mind, you're both off the mark. From what she could tell, Luca was yours as soon as he'd looked at you.

[tossawary]

For whatever reason, my brain fed me a “Shen Yuan transmigrates in as Linguang-Jun” AU. Probably just as a one-shot thing to explore a SY & MBJ relationship. This happens when MBJ is an older child or a young teen, I think, so LGJ has done some shit, but the shitty relationship isn’t totally set in stone yet. SY panics, of course, because he has no idea how to be a demon. 

SY eventually settles on trying to make good with MBJ (within the limits of the OOC locks at first) so that Mobei-Jun doesn’t grow up to kill him. Young MBJ’s first reaction is that this is a trick of some kind, albeit an extremely confusing one. Young MBJ eventually witnesses something (SY utterly failing to use his demon powers while he’s still trying to figure them out) and it clicks for MBJ that his uncle has been possessed or replaced. 

MBJ eventually decides that his uncle has been permanently possessed by a dream demon or the like. Should he tell someone about this? Maybe! But he kind of likes this version of his shitty uncle better. This version of LGJ isn’t trying to kill him and, like, serves that bastard right getting his body stolen by an apparently incompetent dream demon. 

SY fakes it until he (kind of) makes it as a demon. LGJ has been scary enough over the years and has MBJ’s father’s protection, so SY doesn’t have to jockey for power too much. SY is also kind of good at playing elegant, handsome villains when he’s called upon to do so (SY could consider what this says about him as a person, but he’s not going to). SY is mostly left alone to study horrible monsters to his heart’s content. 

And also hang out with young Mobei-Jun. MBJ takes advantage of SY to, idk, get his hands on some family weapon locked up in a vault where kiddos can’t get it, like a child tricking their uncle into giving them car keys at twelve. Uncle-nephew trips consist of MBJ using this new LGJ!SY who wants to win his favor as a get-out-of-jail-free card. 

Shen Yuan: “MY darling nephew? Steal YOUR demon horse? Unlikely! How dare you make such an accusation!” 

Mobei-Jun: *absolutely did do that for kicks and is very curious to see how far he can take this before someone calls him on it*

Eventually, a teenage or young adult MBJ meets Shang Qinghua. He doesn’t tell SQH about the dream demon possessing his uncle, nor does he tell the dream demon possessing his uncle about SQH. At least, not until he overhears SQH use a word that MBJ has overheard SY use before, something like, “WTF.” And then MBJ is like, “What does that word mean?” 

Shang Qinghua: “My king-?! Oh, uh, nothing! Nothing, really!” 

Mobei-Jun: “I have heard this word before. I know it means something. What does this word mean?” 

Shang Qinghua: “...You’ve...? Wait, what?!” 

And then MBJ gets badgered into letting SQH meet the new Linguang-Jun. SQH does not play this subtle enough for MBJ not to have questions, so MBJ exits the room and then blatantly eavesdrops on the conversation because SQH and LGJ generally seem to forget about the extent of demon hearing. 

Shang Qinghua: “Proud Immortal Demon Way?” 

Linguang-Jun!SY: “...Another transmigrator?!!!” 

And Mobei-Jun is like, “Oh, Shang Qinghua is also a dream demon. This makes sense given the many strange things about him. I am very clever.” 

Just because, I really like the idea of MBJ actually being able to perceive transmigrators to some degree? Given his family’s bullshit about consuming and stealing power, he’s always on the lookout for possession (but he’s unfamiliar with humans, so it’s harder there). So, like, there’s Mobei-Jun and his two “dream demons” who are quite bad at pretending to be the powerful demon and the ordinary human they’re possessing. He’s cool with this. 

SY gets MBJ to treat SQH decently. Kind of accidentally, but still.

Anyway, I’m going to assume that #1 LBH fanboy Shen Yuan finds an excuse to go “check” on the poor young protagonist at some point. He badgers Shang Qinghua about how the kid is doing and SQH is like, “Oh, yeah, that kid is definitely being abused.” Shen Yuan talks himself into becoming a secret demonic patron and mentor, just to make sure that the protagonist doesn’t end up growing up to kill him, you know. 

LBH ends up taking a lot of away missions from the peak to stay away from SQQ, who is basically like, “Yes, fuck off. If you die, that’s fine.” And LBH keeps running into his “secret demonic patron and mentor”. And maybe being saved by SY several times. SY kind of digs the idea of being able to offer wise advice to the protagonist. That’s not a bad position, right? 

LBH falling in love with this mysterious and weirdly kind demon lord? It’s exactly as likely as you think. Age difference? No issue in LBH’s mind! 

(SY probably accidentally runs into Liu Qingge too, and saves and kind of seduces the man, of course. Liu Qingge makes it his mission to track this demon down because he is VERY ANGRY about this.) 

If SY can make SQQ into LBH’s type, then he can absolutely make LGJ into LBH’s type. When Shang Qinghua cottons on to this, he’s just like, “A handsome ice demon with villainous character design? My, uh, protagonist and I have very similar taste in men, I guess. Holy shit.” 

Mobei-Jun and Post-Abyss Luo Binghe face-off for Luo Binghe’s rights to court the totally oblivious “dream demon” possessing Mobei-Jun’s uncle. Because I like the idea of Mobei-Jun repeatedly giving the protagonist “impossible tasks” just to fuck with him and then being mildly surprised when LBH keeps succeeding, while LBH can’t bully MBJ because MBJ is SY’s “darling nephew” and LBH doesn’t want to upset SY. (Very smug MBJ face here.) 

Eventually Mobei-Jun is like, “Go conquer the Demon Realm, I guess?” So LBH spends the next 5 years or so doing that, sending SY many, many gifts and letters. While Mobei-Jun is like, “It won’t actually help him. Dream demons are very stupid and must be told directly of any romantic feelings.” 

Shang Qinghua: “Haha, I guess. Wait- dream demon?!” 

Mobei-Jun: “Oh, I forgot to tell you I knew.” 

Mobei-Jun’s face turns extremely judgmental. 

Mobei-Jun: “You really didn’t know that I know what you are?” 

Shang Qinghua: “...No...?!” 

[emerald-chaos]

Touchdown

*gif not mine, credit goes to the owner*

I just want to take a moment to say thank you for the love on my last fic! It made my lil ole heart swell to see that peopled enjoyed it enough to leave a like or reblog.

This is just something special I had in my arsenal that I wrote for a friend a few months ago. I touched it up a bit and added a few things here and there. It all started when we were talking about how much we loved when Chris' accent got heavier after he'd been drinking, and well, I couldn't help myself lol. I hope you enjoy the fluff! xoxo

I apologize for any grammatical errors, I tried to proof-read but am also a little exhausted lol.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 2844

Warnings: I don't think there's anyway? Mentions of being drunk/drinking alcohol, cursing, and illusions to sexy times, but that's about it.

You hadn’t noticed how furiously your knee was bouncing up and down until the person sitting next to you on the subway got up to move seats once the train squealed to a stop. You sighed and ran your hands down the front of your thighs. Normally being a little late didn’t bother you as much, but tonight you were meeting him.

You flipped your wrist over to check your watch. 8:30pm. In all honesty, it had probably been only thirty seconds later than when you checked it the last time. Another deep sigh escaped from your lips as you started to become hyper aware of the train remaining still at the current stop. What could possibly be taking so long? You knew he wouldn’t care if you were running late, but the time the two of you had together already felt so minuscule. You wanted to capitalize on every second you could.

The train began moving again and you slumped back into your seat, feeling only a small amount of relief. It was becoming painfully apparent that you needed to try and relax. You could feel the sweat building up on your body, the sting on your palms from where your fingernails were pressing in with a vengeance moments ago, and you could hear your heart thumping in your ears. Your hand dug around in your purse for a few moments before finding the small case you were looking for. Opening it, you slipped your headphones into your ears and let your head rest on the window behind you as music intertwined with your thoughts.

Once upon a time, you made fun of people who decided to go to grad school. What kind of a clown would spend thousands of MORE dollars and go BACK to school?? Not to mention the stress of the assignments, the due dates - it was not for you...or so you thought.

Now here you are, a regular booboo the fool.

NYU’s graduate program for design and merchandising wasn’t necessarily part of your 5-year plan, but when the opportunity landed in front of you it was difficult to pass up. NYU was a school you had only dreamt of attending back in high school. When you were a senior in high school you were able to tour the campus and fell in love immediately. Hours upon hours were spent researching grants, scholarships, and all sorts of ways to try to make it happen. However, the dream ended as most teenage dreams do - crushed. There was no way you or your parents could afford the loans that it would surely wrack up to attend the out of state university, and there was no way you could ask your parents take on that kind of debt just so you could go to college. UMass was the way to go - close to home and familiar. Not to mention you were able to obtain several scholarships and grants that helped bring down the cost tremendously. Little did you know, boring ole UMass would bring you one of the most important things in your life.

Applying for graduate school wasn’t an easy decision and one you couldn’t really take all the credit for. A smile crept across your face as you reminisced on the night you nervously brought up the idea to your long-term boyfriend.

“I think you should do it,”

“I know, right?” you scoffed, “it’s insane, why would I do something so stup...wait, what? You do?”

“Of course I do. This is something you love and that you’re passionate about. Do you know how many hours of my life were spent listening to you ramble about NYU?” he questioned with a grin.

“It will open up so many doors for you. We can make things work,” a chuckle escaped from those beautiful lips as he saw your dumbfounded expression. He wrapped his fingers around your waist and pulled you close, “What? Did you expect me to forbid it? Cmon, baby, what kind of guy do you take me for?”

You didn’t have a lot of wins in your life, but you did have Chris.

When you got accepted, he took off a week from work to drive you 3 and a half hours south to help get you settled and moved into your temporary new home. The two of you ate a disgusting amount of pizza, moved a ridiculous amount of heavy furniture in the middle of a summer heat wave, and enjoyed each other’s company before the long-distance thing would set in. Chris spent that week encouraging you every step of the way, talking you off the ledge when you were convinced you had made the wrong decision, and made sure to help you christen every possible surface of your new place in the most deliciously sinful way.

You bit your lip slightly at the thought and a warm feeling spread across your face. Chris was one of the most incredible people you had met in this world. Kind, caring, funny, intelligent, passionate, and god was he sexy. The connection the two of you had was scary at first, but now you just couldn’t imagine spending your life with anyone else.

The robotic voice came over the loud-speaker in the subway car and you were rudely ripped back to reality as it pulled into your stop. You hurriedly scooped up your bag and jogged off the train.

It had been a promise between the two of you when you moved that there would be equal effort when it came to visiting and keeping in contact while having good, open communication. Long distance was hard but the two of you were determined to make it work. FaceTime calls, hours upon hours of texting, and even as far as writing the occasional letter back and forth (because your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic and you loved it so much). This weekend was your turn to come home to visit, and of course your last class had to go longer than anticipated. Fuckin’ Tiffany and her stupid ass questions.

The muscles of your calves burned as you kept up your hurried pace, weaving through the crowds of people gathered on sidewalks outside of various clubs and restaurants. It was a weekend night and the Patriots were playing, which meant the city was more alive than usual. New York was it's own beast, but it was a different type of hustle and bustle. Nights like these made your heart ache for home - the thick Massachusetts accents, the rowdy voices of bar patrons arguing about the game, the hugs shared between family members as they parted after dinner, and the faint smell of nicotine and alcohol that hung in the air.

As the neon sign that hung in the pub window came in to view you felt your heart dip down into your stomach. Last weekend’s visit had to be cancelled due to some stuff coming up with Chris’ work and a surprise assignment for you, so you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in 2 weeks. With a deep breath you swung open the door and scanned the crowd for him. He told you that he would be there promptly at 7:15pm for pregame shenanigans with his friends - which actually translated to how many pitchers of beer could they suck down before kick off.

“Aw, come ON! That is such a bullshit call!”

You heard him before you saw him. Of course. A grin spread across your lips as you shook your head. The thought of leaving to avoid secondhand embarrassment crossed your mind briefly before you picked up your feet and made your way through the crowd toward the sound. A room full of people from New England and you would still recognize that voice anywhere.

Everyone else seemed to fade away as you saw the outline of the tall, dark haired man standing at the bar. The slight freckles that spattered the back of his neck, the Brady jersey that he spent WAY too much money customizing, and the signature backward ball cap were ingrained in your subconscious memory. Not to mention if you didn’t recognize his outline or his voice, you would definitely recognize that ass anywhere.

You loved how passionate he got about sports and the way his Boston accent seemed to get thicker with each beer he consumed. Growing up in the area, you wouldn't think the accent would send a tingle down your spine the way it does, but it was different - it was Chris. Not to mention the sparkle in his eye when he would watch his favorite team or the way he would get in to arguments whenever someone tried to say something negative about them. You loved your big, handsome, over-sized toddler man so damn much.

A light tap on his shoulder made him whip around, his slightly opened mouth from his interrupted conversation curved upwards into a wicked grin as he made the connection of who was finally standing in front of him.

“Hey there, handsome. I don’t see a ring on your finger. You single?” You grinned, feeling your entire body fill with warmth as Chris leaned back and grabbed his chest as he erupted in laughter.

“Nah, nah, nah, unfortunately for you I am taken” he responded as he snaked his arms around your waist, sliding his hands into your back pockets as he pulled you into his figure.

“That is too bad,” you tsk'd, running a finger down his toned bicep, “she’s one lucky girl.”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” he grinned. He leaned down to meet your lips in a kiss. You sighed into it, allowing your body to mold itself so perfectly into his. The taste of beer on his lips and the smell of his cologne was intoxicating - it was home. You immediately allowed him entrance as you felt his tongue glide along your bottom lip. Your body felt small in his strong grip and you couldn’t help but laugh a bit as he gave your ass a firm squeeze. Normally, this type of bold, public display of affection would make you cringe away but at this point you were lost in Chris that you had absolutely no shame. Each time the two of you embraced had always felt like the first. Your heart still fluttered and your knees still got weak, like you were a 16 year old being kissed for the first time.

In the middle of your reunion moment, however, something happened in the game that made the entire bar erupt in boo’s and curses. Chris lifted his lips from yours to look over his shoulder and inspect what he had missed. You laughed and shook your head as you pushed him back towards his friends and took a seat in the bar stool he had been standing behind initially. His large hands found a natural place on your shoulders. While his eyes remained glued on the TV he began applying a moderate amount of pressure to your neck and shoulders. You didn’t realize how much your body craved that touch, his touch, until you immediately melted back into him.

The bartender slid a beer in front of you with a wink and you mouthed your thanks. You felt a twinge in your heart as you looked around, taking in the atmosphere of the bar. This was a typical weekend night for the two of you whenever you were living together. Football, drinks, pub food, and friends. If it wasn’t this pub it was your living room, just a couple blocks away. You didn’t even mind that it was your first night back and you weren’t alone, spending it immediately wrapped up in your satin sheets. The atmosphere, the people - it was so warm and familiar that you really wouldn’t rather be doing anything else. Plus, being wrapped up together in the sheets was sure to follow.

“I missed you,” hummed a pair of lips as they placed a kiss on the shell of your ear. A shiver shot down your spine at the sensation of his warm breath fanning over your neck. You reached up a hand and connected it to the nape of his neck.

“I missed you too,” you replied, turning your head to plant a kiss on his stubbled cheek.

His arms changed position as he wrapped them in front of your shoulders and crossed them, resting his chin on the top of your head. Your hand absentmindedly rubbed his forearms as you nursed your beer and placed your focus onto the game for the first time tonight.

The laughter seemed to escape from your chest naturally and effortlessly the entire night, as it always had a habit of doing when Chris was around. The camaraderie between him and his buddies during a game was something you’d grown to enjoy over the years. Chris’ competitive nature and the way his jaw clenched when something wasn’t going the way he wanted was always kinda...hot. All of his friends were huge assholes, but in the best way. It was always entertaining to hear them jab at each other and do what they could to rile someone up. They were the life of every party you had ever attended and they had a way of making a boring night a lot more interesting.

Thankfully (for the integrity of the bar) the Pats won the game with a surprise touchdown in the last 30 seconds of the game. Chris, being the guy he is, bought a final round for his friends and a nearby group they had been going back and forth with all night. You couldn’t help but laugh as he drunkenly leaned across the counter and slurred his order to the bartender.

“I need a round for m’friends and for these assholes over here who thought Tom Brady was anything but a winner!” the group started yelling in protest and he simply waved them off and started sliding beers down the bar.

The group eventually moved to a bigger round top so everyone could shoot the shit and banter about the outcome of the game. You were tucked into Chris’ side, hands intertwined as he was passionately discussing the importance of Brady’s legacy with a stranger who made the mistake of stopping to talk to him. Your eyes followed the motion of your thumb as it traced small circles onto the back of his. Your other hand under your chin, holding up the weight of your head as your exhaustion started to catch up with you. Chris, although slightly drunk, picked up on your body language and raised your hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Alright, fellas,” he said as he stood up from his seat, pulling you up with him, “the lady and I are gonna call it a night. See you boys next weekend”.

“Chris, we don’t have to go,” you began to protest as he tucked his jacket around your shoulders.

“Mm, ‘course we do,” he replied with a soft smile, “you’re so tired, baby. I can see it in those beautiful eyes”.

You could feel your cheeks turn a light shade of pink as you rolled your eyes at his attempt at laying it on thick. After what felt like a proper 10 minute goodbye session, the group said their final goodbyes, hugs included, and you walked out of the pub hand in hand.

The walk home was filled with the sounds of cars passing by and conversation of what each other had missed in the week prior. Small talk typically felt like such a chore, but with Chris every conversation came naturally. Even when he had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, he would listen intently and ask all the questions as if it was the most interesting conversation in the world.

The lock on the apartment door clicked as you pushed it open and entered. You smiled as you stopped into the middle of the living room, taking in the home you missed so dearly. A soft tapping of toenails against the hardwood made your heart soar as you met the eyes of your sweet pup, Dodger. A squeal left your lips as you squatted down to give love to the sweet boy. Chris always made fun of you when you came home, saying that you always seemed to miss Dodger more than you did him and I mean, he wasn’t entirely wrong about that statement.

Once again lost in your own world, you didn’t even notice Chris leaned up against the wall watching you with a smile.

“Oh my god,” you gushed, standing up, “do you like...like me or something?”

Chris grinned as he crossed the room and caught your belt loop with his finger, pulling you into him slowly.

“Yeah,” his voice had dropped down an octave, “you could say that”.

“Mm,” your tongue swiped across your lower lip and you wrapped your arms around his neck, “care to show me how much?”

The look in his eyes made your core burn. The tension building between you two became too much to handle as you crashed your lips into his. The kisses were messy and you could feel the sense of urgency between you two. His beard scratched against the column of your throat with a delicious burn as he left wet kisses across your jaw and down the side of your neck. Chris’ hands found their way back into the ass pockets of your jeans as he started walking you back towards the direction of the bedroom.

Soon, there was a trail of clothes leading to your bedroom and you felt very sorry for your neighbors. It had been a long time, but Chris always had a way of welcoming you home.

[stars-falling]

late night at the local convenience store (elriel)

summary: elain, desperate for snacks, visits her local store late at night and bumps into her supposed rival (and he's hot).

prompt: esteemed rival chefs find each other shamefully buying ramen at 3 in the morning AU

word count: 1985

note: welcome to the first july upload! this piece was written for a writing month challenge and i had great fun with it! i'm really excited for the other pieces i'll be posting over the next month. i hope you enjoy them as much as i enjoyed writing them! i'll continue working on other pieces over the month too, so there will be more coming after july (hopefully i can finally finish part 2 of both a storm and a summer's day).

in the meantime, hope you enjoy!

lily (tysm for 760 followers btw! love you all <3)

read here on ao3 // masterlist

*******************************

Archeron’s Kitchen was the most popular restaurant in Velaris. It had the best food, the best drinks, the best atmosphere, and Elain had never been more proud to say that she was the Head Chef. It had taken years of hard work from both her and her two sisters to reach the level they were at now and they only continued to grow. The sisters worked closely together: Nesta (the eldest) directed the finance and other admin, Feyre (the youngest) worked on the design aspects and managed the staff and Elain manned the menus and the actual cooking. They worked well together, with only minor disagreements happening occasionally, and soon they had rocketed to the most well known and sought after restaurant in Velaris.

This was why she was contemplating her life choices as she pulled up to the local convenience store to buy ramen at 3 am. It wasn’t even the nice ramen; it was the crappy 50p packet of ramen that took less than a minute to cook. She often tried to utilise her skills to cook herself the healthiest and tastiest meals but recently she had been working overtime due to another restaurant's rising popularity. The two staff had even formed some sort of rivalry, trash-talking each other in the streets and slandering the other restaurant to their patrons. She found it childish, so Elain didn’t partake, but she did find it mildly amusing. The new restaurant was several streets over and it was the opposite of Archeron’s Kitchen in every way. Where they were warm and cosy, Starfall was sleek and modern. Where they focused on comfort foods, Starfall served new and innovative dishes. People went to the Archeron’s for the food, whereas people went to Starfall for the experience. And where the Archeron’s Kitchen was run by three sisters, Starfall was run by three brothers.

She had never actually met them. She knew their names and what they looked like but in terms of interactions she had only caught a glimpse of two of them once before. They had stood in the main square with Feyre and Nesta arguing about the importance of serving classic food. Her sisters had both come away grumbling about ‘upstart assholes with no sense of tradition’. As far as Elain was aware, the two brothers they had argued with weren’t actually in charge of the menu, making her unsure if they had full authority over the subject, but she didn’t want to start them off again so she refrained from mentioning it.

Elain pulled into an empty parking space and took a moment to lay her head against the headrest and close her eyes. She was tired and hungry. There was no food in the fridge, her bank account was looking quite sorry for itself and she still had more menus to plan and ideas for new dishes to brainstorm. Steeling herself, she hauled herself out of the car and locked it as she walked to the bright light of the store. She pulled the hood of the tattered sweatshirt she wore over her head as a precaution against recognition. With the status of a semi-famous chef, she didn’t want anyone to see her in the somewhat pitiful state she was in. The bell rang as she pushed open the door, signalling her entrance. The bright flickering lights and cool temperature made it feel like she was entering a separate dimension, one that lacked all sense of time and direction. Elain nodded at the cashier as she walked past them, making a beeline to the snacks aisle. She was greeted by a wide range of ramen, the different flavours and prices making it difficult to choose. She had about £1.50 in her purse and she desperately wanted a coffee too so she would have to be frugal. She was so engrossed with her ramen selection that she failed to notice a person coming up beside her. When she swivelled around to check the time on the obscenely large digital clock above the checkout, she crashed into them hard, causing her, them and the copious amounts of ramen they had piled in their arms to go flying to the floor.

Elain let out a yelp as she landed hard on her tailbone and felt her face heat up.

“I am so sorry!”

A deep, warm chuckle floated toward her and her head snapped up to look at its source. She found hazel eyes staring back. A large man with tan skin and dark hair sat in front of her, surrounded by many colourful packets of ramen. Her heart fluttered slightly as he smiled at her. He was handsome, even in this shitty convenience store lighting at 3 am dressed in similar attire to her.

“Don’t worry about it. I should have been paying more attention. Are you okay?”

She nodded before sitting up fully and helped to gather the ramen that lay around them. He smiled at her gratefully and they sat in content if not slightly awkward silence as they pulled the packets into a pile before finally rising. As she looked closer at him, a spark of recognition kindled within her.

“Do I know you?”

He looked at her curiously, tilting his head.

“I’m not sure but you do look familiar.”

They stood analysing each other. Normally the staring would make her uncomfortable, but with him, she found it didn’t bother her nearly as much as it should have. This went on for about a minute before she saw realisation set into his eyes.

“You’re Elain Archeron. The Head Chef for Archeron’s Kitchen. Why are you buying shitty ramen at 3 am? Shouldn’t you have made yourself a three-course meal by now?”

Elain felt something drop inside her. She hadn’t noticed that her hood had fallen off when she fell, exposing her and her shameful ramen buying to the whole world. But as he laughed softly, she remembered where she recognised him from.

She scowled at him as she said, “ Well you’re Azriel Knight, Starfall’s Head Chef, so you can’t exactly talk.”

She gestured to the stack of ramen that she had just helped pile into his arms. He turned away slightly as if to hide them.

“My stash had run out, okay. I need it to keep me going when I stay up late planning dishes.”

“I get that. That’s why I’m here right now.” She replied and a mutual understanding passed between them.

Elain knew she shouldn’t be talking to him right now, the reminders of the supposed rivalry between the two restaurants loomed like a shadow behind her. But the longer they spent together, the more she found herself not caring.

“I feel like we should be arguing,” He told her. “If my brothers were here, they would have been kicked out for yelling by now.”

She smiled, “Same for my sisters. But I’ve never really cared to be honest. I just want to focus on the food, not a silly competition that people seem to be taking too seriously.”

He nodded in agreement and they both began to walk to the cashier.

“So, what kind of dishes are you planning then?” She asked. “I promise I won’t steal any ideas. It’s not my style anyway.”

“I”m not a hundred percent sure on the actual contents of the dish right now, but I’m currently trying to create a more experimental menu. We recently unveiled a new line of drinks that have a more theatrical element to them. Colour changing, dry ice, bubbling, the whole shebang and I wanted to design a food menu that went along with that.”

He turned away from her to pay the cashier, giving her a moment to turn over his words in her head. She’d gotten a glimpse at some of the drinks and food from when she had taken a look at (read: stalked) their website and various social media sites. She had called it ‘scouting out the competition' when really she was curious to see what had set them apart enough for them to have such a rise in patronage. Whilst it wasn’t her style, she had always thought that she’d like to visit them and try what they had to offer. That was until the stupid rivalry had started and just walking by the restaurant was asking for trouble. Azriel finished paying and grabbed the plastic bag the cashier had placed his ramen in, moving out of the way so she could step up to the counter.

“That sounds amazing!” She replied. ‘I admit, I’ve always wanted to try some of your food but unfortunately, my sister’s might disown me if I even mention it. Calling them over-competitive would be the understatement of the century.”

He laughed at this and she took the opportunity to turn away and press the 50p coin into the cashier's hand. They nodded at her, satisfied and she turned back to Azriel. Together, they walked out of the door and into the cool night.

“I’d say you should stop by, but as you said, our siblings may not be too happy about that.” He let out a sigh. “As much as it amused me at first, I do wish we could just get along. I’d like to come and try some of your food too.”

He swivelled towards her, the white light from the store casting his face into shadows.

“I hope this isn’t too forward of me, but would you like to grab some coffee?”

She smiled at him, shoving the packet of ramen into her hoodie pocket.

“I’d love to. And maybe in the future, we could make some of our food for each other.”

He raised an eyebrow at that. “Like a date?”

She felt dread trickle in. Maybe she had misread the situation. They seemed to have been getting on well, and she had caught him checking her out when they first bumped into each other. Plus, he had just asked her to grab coffee with him. Perhaps he was just being friendly.

She swallowed anxiously before replying, “Yeah. If that’s something you’d be interested in.”

He smiled at her brightly, making her heart stutter and skip a beat.

“I’d like that.”

They stood under the streetlamps in an almost abandoned parking lot. Two head chef’s from popular restaurants with bad ramen and a budding connection between them.

“What are you feeling? Starbucks or maybe that local coffee shop down the street? I think it’s called Veritas?”

Elain hummed as they started walking along the road.

“Veritas, I think. I can get a cup of tea for a pound.” She reached into her pocket to show him her single coin.

For the second time that evening (or was it morning?), he raised an eyebrow at her. “I thought I was buying?”

She glanced at him in confusion. “Since when?”

“I thought since I had asked you it was implied?”

She let out a laugh, shaking her head. “My god, we are bad at this. I think we need to get out of the kitchen more.”

“I’m not sure about that, I’ve got plenty of pick up lines I've stolen from my chefs.” He stepped in front of her, stopping her in her path. “Baby, you’re the crème to my brûlée.”

She groaned, hitting him on the arm as she pushed past him. “That was so bad! I might leave.”

“As if you could do better.”

She pulled out her phone, searching up ‘chef pick up lines’. She grimaced, “These are all so sexual! I think it might be best if we keep flirting out of the kitchen.”

They both doubled over in fits of laughter before continuing down the street. She was glad she gave in to her cravings and went to buy ramen at 3 am. She could tell that whatever this was, it was going to turn into something great.

*******************************

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[wesimpforxiao]

Inception: Chapter 7

Regardless of your persistence to avoid Childe, you noticed that he intentionally walked along the same paths to 'run' into you just as you intentionally chose different paths to work every day to avoid seeing him.  To be honest, it was a bit stalker-ish.  But one fierce glare from you, and his confidence deflates like a balloon as he gives up on the idea to talk to you.  He was just as stubborn as you though, and would continue this pattern every day despite your continuous rejection.  You still hadn't said a word to him since that day in Mondstat.  

At one point you discovered a new tactic to keep him at a distance; walk around areas of Liyue where Fatui are most prominent.   Childe would almost immediately be called over or consulted over various matters from his underlings, and you were able to lose him for the day.

It was late one night when you finally left the funeral parlor; you didn't need to stay so long, but working on filings diverted your mind from the present occurrences.  Your footsteps were quiet along the dimly lit streets of Liyue as you made your way past Liuli Pavilion. Despite it being the middle of the week, there were several Fatui agents drinking and making a ruckus at the outside seating area--laughing, cursing, and a bunch of slurred gibberish you couldn't quite catch.

That was when your stomach growled and begged for food that it hasn't gotten all day.  By the time you'd get back to your apartment you wouldn't have the energy to cook, so you decided it'd be best to get a meal-to-go from the Pavilion despite the annoying customers blocking the door.  You reluctantly made your way up the steps when one of the drunkards called out you.

"Hey! Waitress! Where's our damn order?"  The man impatiently slammed his pint onto the table out of the corner of your vision.  He had to be the least sober of the group.

"That's not the waitress, dumbass.  She's clearly a customer."

"No," interjected the third.  "That's Master Childe's woman."  Apparently Childe's coworkers had picked up on your relationship with the harbinger much sooner than you figured out his true identity.

You finally reached the door handle and twisted it open, but a hand slammed above your head to keep it shut.  "Childe's girl, huh?"  

"Kliment, you know better than to screw with Childe's shit," the third man warned.  "You continue with this, he's gonna kill you."

"I'm not his girl," you spat, meeting the devilish crazed eyes of the man pinning you against the door.  "Back off, I'm starving."

"Not his girl," Kliment scoffed with a lopsided smirk as he glared down at you.  "You hear that, Charlie?  This is the chick everyone's been talking about. The one that's got him slacking off on our missing agents and that stupid vigilante that's still running around."

"You've got the wrong chick, asshole."  This seemed to agitate Kliment, and he leaned in way too close for comfort.  

"I don't give a damn whether you belong to Childe or not.  Since there's no getting through his thick skull, maybe this will get him to do his job."

"Kliment, what are you saying?"  Charlie, the second agent, shifted uneasily in his seat.  "Leave the girl alone. You're drunk."

"All I'm sayin' is a little rough-up would get Childe to take his responsibilities seriously.  An eye-opener, if you will."  Kliment raised your head to look at him by putting a thumb beneath your chin.  "Though if you have any valuable relics on you, which I doubt, you may sway me from hurting this little face of yours.  I really do just care about money; this matter doesn't interest me."

Your stomach sank when you remembered your empty pockets.  Your vision sat at home in your kitchen drawer tonight, so there was no way you could fight the three of these guys with your pyro energy and you'd lack the fire resistance it provided.  You never relied on it anyway; with your combat skills, you might be able to take them out somehow.  There's silverware on the table...plates, knives, forks, even the empty pints that lay strewn about.  And there'll be witnesses that might jump in to help.  

But most of all, you were angry.  This is how undisciplined Aja--Childe's men are.  You were right all along; there are no 'good' Fatui; that'd be an oxymoron, impossible, senseless.  So when Kliment threatened you with his foul alcoholic breath burning your nostrils, an almost devilish smile stretched across your face.

You leaned in and whispered in a low voice so that he'd be the only one to hear you.  "Valuables?  You mean like that precious Fatui mask of yours?"

The gears turned in his head for a few seconds, then his expression of confusion switched to disbelief, and finally to seething anger.  "You--!  You're the bitch that stole my mask--!"  His hand flew to your throat and squeezed.

"Kliment! What're you doing?!"  Charlie bolted upright before charging to get him off of you.  "You're gonna get us in trouble! Cut it out!"  Before he could reach the two of you, you landed a strike to Kliment's throat that loosened his grip and sent him gagging.  "Klime--"

Your attack apparently prompted the third agent to get up from his seat and he proceeded to launch himself not at you or Kliment, but at Charlie.  The two collided and crashed over another table where a romantic dinner was taking place.  The nameless agent was yelling incoherently about Kliment being right while they threw punches.

I guess those two will take each other out?  Your attention refocused on Kliment, who was now able to inhale a decent amount of air to lunge at you full force into the pavilion door.  Your head slammed into the wood with an unsettling crack, but the adrenaline made it impossible to tell if it was the wood or your skull making that awful noise.  You blocked a punch directed at your jaw.  He drove his knee to your stomach, but you swayed just enough so it slid past your side and into the door.  Your elbow jut into his ribcage, then his kidney, then you pulled his head down hard onto your knee.  He crumpled to the floor.

The shouting of the patrons, waiters, and other staff were quiet compared to the heartbeat drumming in your ears.  They stood and gawked at the damage the entire group was making, but they did not dare to intervene.  You scanned the surroundings for those other two Fatui. The one named Charlie was knocked out cold.  "Where--Ngh!"

A fist held your hair tight at the top of your head and drove you face-first into a table to your left.  "You're definitely Childe's woman if you can hold your own against an agent.  You have my respect for that...But this needs to be done to get his head out of the gutter!"  Another slam against the table, and white clouded your vision.  Somewhere in your peripherals Charlie had snapped out of his daze and scrambled to his feet to leave you and the rest of the pavilion behind.

Looks like that agent learned a lesson from going against the flow of the Fatui and abandoned the idea of helping you.

Your fingernails clawed into the agent's gloved fist to no avail.  You couldn't even kick at him with how he pinned you to the table, but luckily he decided to pull you upright and throw you to the ground.  There's a chance to strike him now.  

Or at least, there was.  Just as you flipped over to kick him away from you, his boot crashed down on your face hard.  The sickening crack of your nose against the force made your vision darken completely.

Childe was just about finished with his work for the day and nodded farewell to the secretary behind the front desk of the Northland Bank.  He barely reached the exit when the double doors burst open and an injured agent began blabbering about something while out of breath.

"...Ha...haah...fight...Agent Kliment...your...girlfriend..."  Charlie managed to wheeze out the most important details first and didn't miss the cold expression that enveloped Childe's face.

"Excuse me?"

"--The Pavilion! Hurry!"  The words barely got past his lips as Childe bolted out the door.  Charlie chased after him despite his lungs begging for air.  He could barely keep his superior in view.

The chaos that greeted the pair sent a chilling thrill down Childe's spine.  A few additional agents had joined the scene and were trying to keep the others at bay while others aided so that a Liyue citizen was the sole target.  Childe had no problem reminding his agents of their place in the food chain and that they were more expendable than the innocent, but the glimpse of your face getting kicked in made something snap inside him.  He was still several feet away from the scene and many witnesses were yelling for the fight to stop.  It wouldn't be long before the Millileth would arrive.

Childe held an unreadable air about him as a single hydro blade manifested in his hand.  He spared none of his strength when he threw it at the man that towered over you.  The man let out a strangled cry as it impaled his shoulder into the wooden door.  "Now now," a cruel empty tone left Childe's lips as he approached with a deadpanned expression.  Everyone stopped throwing their punches when they recognized the voice.  "I don't suppose there's a reasonable explanation behind this, is there?"

"M-Master Childe!"  The Fatui agents bowed over and saluted the harbinger while the bystanders parted for him.  "This is--"

Childe ignored their stutters and made a beeline for the half-conscious girl on the floor.  He knelt and lifted your chin slightly.  Sorry girlie, but there's no way I'm just going to let you walk home from this no matter how much you hate me right now.  Your lips were busted and swollen, your nose red and bloody, not to mention broken...The tears that obscured your vision made it difficult to see him, no doubt.

A cold, chilling anger like Snezhnaya's weather washed over the harbinger while he estimated your condition.  Then he stood up and announced with a voice almost too quiet to hear at first.  "Every agent here is to report to my office immediately."

"But Master Childe, she was--"

"--She started--"

"I tried to stop them from hurting her--"

Childe faced them with a death glare.  "My office.  Now."  Everyone gulped in fear.  "And if any of you decide to run off and hide, I will hunt you down.  Go."  The bystanders were whispering things amongst themselves as they watched the agents sprint for the bank.  Then, the harbinger faced the man that was still writhing against the wall.  "What's your name?"

"Hongqi--GAH!"  Childe violently ripped his blade out as he looked the agent in the eye.  

"Well, Hongqi, you've made quite the first impression on me.  Unfortunately for you," Childe swiped his fingers across the blood that coated the blade, "it was the bad kind."  Hongqi nodded and shuffled to the direction of Northland Bank.  Childe watched him before giving one last glance to the bystanders that were directing the Millelith in this direction from across the street.  

A small wheeze from his feet grabbed Childe's attention and he knelt beside you once more.  "...leave me...alone."

"You know I'm not the kind of man to leave a beaten girl alone on the streets."  The touch of his fingers grazing your cheek made you wince.

It was only when you caught the sight of the authorities drawing closer that you raised your voice.  If he wouldn't leave you, this called for a more drastic approach.  "H...Help!  Help!"  Despite your injuries your arms flailed about in an effort to push Childe away from you.  This earned a confused yet hurt expression from Childe, but you couldn't care less.  Why should you?  

This was his fault.  These men are under his supervision.  He failed you.  Again.

Despite your weak attempt to get away from him, Childe scooped you up in his arms and disappeared from the scene as quickly as he had appeared before the Millelith could catch up.  Somewhere along the way you lost consciousness, and Childe was able to get into your apartment thanks to the keys that were in your jean pocket.  He lay you down on your bed as carefully as possible before finding and wetting a towel to clean your wounds.

"I'm gonna need you to lie still while I do this," he warned before pressing the damp cloth to your bloodied lips.

"...can do this myself.  Get out."

"I never said you weren't capable of handling the aftermath yourself, girlie.  But that doesn't mean I'm going to let you do it yourself."  He brushed the hair out of your face and continued to wipe away at the blood and dirt on your skin.  The ticking of your wall clock was almost aggressive in filling the silent room.

"This is all your fault."

His movements slowed if only for a moment.  Was that really what you thought? Was it really his fault?  His men were always disciplined, or at least they were to the best of his knowledge.  But tonight proved otherwise, and it proved yet again that he's still hurting you.   The missing men, the rowdy behavior of the agents, even the bank heist...something doesn't add up.  They're connected somehow, but where was the connection?  

"Rest assured they will be thoroughly punished."  This earned an eyeroll from you that he pretended not to notice.  "Your nose needs to be reset, but I'm assuming you'd rather do it yourself."

"You're finally catching on."  

"I need to return to my office now.  Don't hesitate to get ahold of me if you need anything."  It was unnecessary to say so since he doubted you'd need him anymore, but he said it just in case.

"Good riddance."  Your gaze followed his movements past the kitchen and to the door.  Childe's hand hovered above the doorknob for a second.  You weren't able to hear whatever he mumbled next and were too stubborn to ask him to repeat himself.  Then, you were met with only the sound of your wall clock ticking the night away.

...........

"Master Childe!"  The secretary to the Northland Bank greeted the harbinger at the door.  "What happened?  A few men came rushing in with injuries--Should I get medical aid?"

"Don't bother with them."  The cool anger was so obvious upon his demeanor that she clammed up and nodded.  "Their injuries are not severe enough to require medical attention.  They're a waste of resources."

"Y-yes, sir.  Is there anything I can get you?"  She closed the doors once he entered.

"A room alone with them would be excellent."  The lady scampered away.  When Master Childe is angry, it's best to leave him to his own devices and keep quiet.  No one wants to be in the way or make him any angrier since he already has a problem with his temper...

"Master Childe," the troublesome Fatui agents bowed their heads and knelt before him.

"I want a full description of what incited your unsightly actions."  Childe scanned their faces one by one until he landed on Charlie.  "You.  Speak."

"Everyone was drunk beyond belief, sir."  He was still bleeding from behind his ear as he spoke and ignored the tickling of the blood that trickled down to his neck.  "Kliment thought that woman was a waitress, but then Hongqi said she was your girlfriend."

"That bitch admitted to being the person that's been inconveniencing us the past few months and stealing our property!"  Kliment jumped to his feet and faced the harbinger directly.  "If she's really your girl, it'd explain why you haven't done anything to catch her!  You're a disgrace to the harbingers, to the Tsaritsa, to--"

BAM.  A fist collided with Kliment's jaw and he stumbled backwards onto his butt.  Blue eyes as pale as ice stared him down.  "I don't remember asking for your input.  Seeing as though you still haven't sobered up, I have reason to doubt whatever comes out of your mouth.  Hongqi," Childe's glare flicked to the agent that knelt to Kliment's left, "why were you beating a defenseless woman when she was already down?"

Hongqi was putting pressure on the arm that had been impaled by Childe's hydro blade.  "I don't care about whether she's involved with those acts of vandalism, but I do share Kliment's view about you.  You've been slacking off, sir.  I thought this would send a clear message--"

"Let me get one thing through your thick skulls," the harbinger interrupted with an edge in his voice.  "That girl and I are not involved with each other.  And I don't condone senseless violence against the innocent."  His gaze was sharp like that of a predator scouting his prey.  The sound of his footsteps pacing across the tile floor filled the silence between sentences.  "Thanks to your carelessness I'll have to clean up the mess you all made.  What do you think the Millelith will do when they hear details of this incident?  What do you think the Qixing will make of it?  We're already scorned as it is."

"No thanks to you and Osial," muttered Kliment.  A pointed look shut him up quick.

"It's become clear to me tonight that the Tsaritsa doesn't need you to complete her mission.  Hongqi, Kliment, you're dismissed.  Don't show your faces to me again."

"W-What?! Sir, we--"

"You're not my harbinger anyway.  I'll just go tell the Fair Lady about your pathetic actions," Kliment growled through a clenched jaw.  

"By all means, go ahead.  Of course if you have this much of an issue with your punishment, you could always take me on in a fight.  Well?  What'll it be, gentlemen?"  Their silence and averted eyes gave him the answer.  "That's too bad.  I've been itching for a proper workout.  Get out of my sight."

"Sir, what shall I do?"  Charlie's voice was hesitant and barely audible after he watched his former comrades vacate the bank in an uproar.  Careful, now.  Wouldn't want to say anything that could anger the man further...

"Relax," Childe briefly flicked his gaze to the agent with a sly smile.  "I have no need to punish you.  In fact, you seem to be the only one here that has their head on straight.  You have my gratitude for bringing the matter to my attention and standing up for that woman."

"Your...gratitude?"

"Of course.  Don't let it get to your head, though.  An inflated ego will only work against you on the battlefield."

......................

"Hey.  Kliment."

"Can you believe that, Hongqi?  He just threw us out like we're the bad guys! I swear to the Tsaritsa I'll show that loser a piece of my min--"

"Yeah about that.  Shall we get away from the prying ears of Liyue?"  Hongqi nodded to an alleyway that was to the left of the stairs that led up to the Northland Bank.

Kliment scoffed and pinched the bridge of his nose.  "What, now you're self-conscious of sharing your opinion on Childe?"  Yet he followed the man's lead anyway until they were both obscured in the shadows.

The silver eyes of Hongqi almost appeared to glow in the dark as he faced Kliment in a serious manner.  "There's a certain group of Fatui that have grown weary against the Tsaritsa.  This group is planning something big, and their goal is to uproot the Fatui's reputation first in Liyue, then they'll move on to Mondstat.  I happen to have a few connections."

"A group of unfaithful Fatui?  What are you talking about?"  But then it clicked.  "Wait, you don't mean..."

"Those who've gone missing in our ranks have simply created a new organization tasked with creating chaos to ruin the Fatui's reputation until it disintegrates into dust."  Hongqi sent a quick glance to the lighted street outside of the alley before returning his attention.  "Seeing as though Childe has disrespected us both, there's a chance we could get back at him for his tyranny.  The leader of the group is quite rich and compensates his members like there's no tomorrow."

"Huh. I didn't know you that well even in the ranks, but I think we could be great friends, Hongqi."

[lakesandquarries]

Tangled Up - Chapter Two

oh, i’m gonna mess this up

Benrey’s spent 26 years living in a tower - 27, tomorrow. When a thief breaks into his tower, he finds his chance to escape and takes it.

Alternatively: Tangled, but the AI is self aware.

(featuring art by @kenas-artstuff​ )

Notes: check ao3 for warnings and tags! “kane radio” is just gordon using a fake name. fic title from “tangled up” by caro emerald, chapter title from “shots” by imagine dragons.

AO3 Link

It’s nice to be back at Black Mesa. Well, mostly nice. Gordon shuts the door behind Benrey only to immediately spot a wanted poster, the only thing making it unrecognizable a bizarre mullet. Do people seriously think he looks like that??

“Hey, Mr. Radio!” a voice calls from behind the counter. Kane rips the paper off the door, rushing across the room. 

“Hi Darnold it’s great to see you shut the fuck up please -”

And that’s when he gets grabbed from behind. He barely sees Darnold’s eyes widen before he’s spun around, now facing an absolute mountain of a man. Behind him, he hears Darnold slap something - his forehead, probably - and mutter a quiet. “oh, right.”

He loves Darnold, he really does. Being friends with someone since you were kids will do that. Right now, though, he kind of wants to throttle him.

“Kane Radio, hm?” the main holding him says, ripping the wanted poster out of his hands. The thief glances around awkwardly, his eyes finally falling onto Benrey struggling to pull his hair back into his possession. 

"H-hey, he'd appreciate his hair not being touched, guys!", Kane exclaimed, to help his partner as well as pull away from his attention. It works for a moment, as Benrey tugs the last strands of hair away and marches up to the guy holding Kane, unintimidated despite the height difference.

“Hey,” Benrey says quietly as he walks up next to the man. “Put him down? Please and thank you?”

Mountain man snorts. “Not likely. I need the reward money. Hey, you! Go get the guards!”

One of the other men nods, slipping out of the tavern as an argument breaks out. Kane is pushed and pulled, various thugs grabbing him and insisting they need the money, they deserve it most, as the bar descends into chaos.

A loud, meaty thwack! breaks up the argument. Kane’s dropped on his ass, and when he looks up, Benrey has his crowbar against Mountain man’s arm. “I said put him down.”

Kane rolls off to the side, dodging another man’s grabbing hands, and stands up so he can dart back over to Benrey and push him out of the way. “Hey, appreciate that, don’t get me wrong, but - Benrey, what the fuck?”

Behind the counter Darnold is glaring, grabbing a cup and a spoon to try and get everyone’s attention. Black Mesa housed a fighting ring once upon a time, but that got stopped when Darnold took over. It doesn’t matter now - even with Darnold yelling, everyone’s too riled up. Kane has to duck down to avoid a punch, only to immediately get kicked in the face. A hand grabs his arm and he swings instinctively, stopping at the last second when he realizes it’s just Benrey, pulling him off to the side.

“What the fuck,” Kane repeats.

“Being polite didn’t work,” is Benrey’s only explanation.

Darnold is still yelling, trying desperately to get some sense of calm as the crowd beats the shit out of each other. And then - just as quick as it started, it’s over. Screams dissolve into laughter as the assembled patrons dust themselves off, seemingly satisfied with the amount of violence they've had. 

"It's been too long since we've had a fight like that," Mountain man says. "Nice job."

Benrey blinks up at him. "Whuh?"

Gordon agrees with him. Wiping blood from his nose, he mutters a quiet “What?” as well.

“Should’ve been longer,” Darnold complains. “You know I hate this kind of behavior! I have half a mind to throw you all out.”

"We'll clean it up, Danny, don't worry,” another, very skinny guy cheerfully responds, followed by a roar of laughter.

“Darnold,” the bartender corrects sharply as he sets to cleaning the place up, picking up overturned chairs and mopping up spills and sweeping up broken glass. 

Turning back to Mountain man, Kane asks, "Just to be clear. Does this mean you won't tear me and my friend apart anymore?"

“Are you kidding? That’s the most fun I’ve had in years! Darnold never lets us do stuff like that. Real shame, considering how this place st -“

He’s cut off by someone slamming the door open. “I brought the guards!”

Apparently ten seconds of peace is the max he’s allowed. “Shit shit shit,” Kane wheezes, grabbing Benrey’s arm as Darnold directs them behind the door. The massive dog from earlier, the one who had chased him through the forest and up Benrey’s tower, is here. And it’s pissed. Kane’s heart drops as he watches it sniff around, following the trail of his footsteps.

Darnold pulls on a lever, revealing a ramp down into a stone tunnel. “You’re lucky you’re my friend,” he says as he ushers them through it. Benrey hesitates, but Kane pulls him through anyway, into some kind of cave system. The walls are dark stone, rough and natural. This is something old, and hopefully, it’ll cover them. 

He exhales slowly, adrenaline still rushing through him. “Shit,” he mutters again. “That was close.”

“Who were those guys?” Benrey asks. The raccoon on his shoulder chirps.

“Guards. Royal guards. They, uh….they don’t like me much.”

“You stole something?” 

“Big something.”

Benrey nods, apparently satisfied with the answer. The raccoon chirps again, and Benrey mumbles something in response to it. Because his day is just going so normally, he needs to listen to his weird...escort mission talk to his fucking raccoon as they run from guards.

Metal clanks behind them, and Kane picks up the pace, until he’s running down the tunnel. It opens into a cliffside, with no way down. “Fuck!”

“There’s a guy down there,” Benrey points out, and Kane bites back another string of curses when he realizes it’s fucking Forzen. He’d abandoned him after stealing the royal helmet. Betrayal’s nothing new between them, but this is recent enough that Forzen’s probably still pissed.

“That’s Forzen. He doesn’t like me much either.”

It’s then that the guards burst out of the tunnel and several things happen all at once. Benrey shoves his crowbar at Kane, and before he can question why Benrey is giving him his only weapon, he’s tossing his hair across the canyon like a grappling hook and running off the ledge.

Before he can even ask why Benrey would possibly give him his only weapon, he watches in horror as his partner takes flight. He doesn’t have time to check if Benrey’s alright - the guards are on his ass. The crowbar makes a satisfying thwack! as he swings it, taking down the guards in barely an instant. “Fuck, this is handy. Need to get me one of these!” Kane comments to himself, looking to see who’s left. One opponent remains - the dog, who is now holding a sword.

Because his day just cannot get any fucking weirder.

“You should know this is the weirdest thing I have ever fucking done!” Kane yells to Benrey, as he battles the dog, sword to crowbar, until the dog knocks it right out of his hands and down the cliff. “Two out of three?”

A lock of black hair wraps around his hand. Kane grins, giving the dog a salute as he’s pulled into a free fall. “Ha! Get fuc - hhhh.” His words dissolve into a wheeze, as his trajectory slams him into an exposed beam, knocking the wind out of him.

Kane, struggling to get a grip of himself, only just manages to hold on to Benrey while he swings down with his support. His feet connect with the water pipes, sliding down unsteadily as they collapse underneath him, and then the entire dam breaks. It happens in a flash, an enormous amount of water - it feels like the whole ocean when Kane glances back - pouring down into the valley. Rocks fall, the last of the wooden constructions collapsing. With a couple of leaps, Kane reaches an already running Benrey, and scoops up the last bit of his hair flailing behind him. "Benrey! Benrey, into the cave!" he shouts, hoping the other would get understand the general direction they have to run.

---

Benrey grabs the crowbar as he darts after Kane, barely avoiding getting crushed by the massive rock that comes crashing down and seals them into the cave. The walls are stone, not like the bricks of his tower but a random arrangement of rocks and boulders forming a lumpy wall. There’s a puddle of water on the floor, only as he looks it starts to grow, up over Benrey’s feet, his legs, creeping higher and higher. He looks around the cave frantically, spotting the trickles of water coming in past the rock that sealed them in. The only obvious opening, but the water is like another force behind it, pressing it shut like Benrey used to try and hold his door shut. The rock is stronger than him. No matter how hard he slams with his crowbar, there’s not even a dent. He turns his attention to the rest of the cave, alternately smashing and prying at the walls, but they hold firm. There’s nothing. Not a single loose rock, nothing resembling a weak point, not even a crack he can widen into an exit. 

The water’s at his waist now. His breathing sharpens, small panicked inhales as he realizes there’s no way out. They’re trapped, with water climbing higher and higher. The water is murky, making the already dim space feel smaller and darker with each second. 

Zeki was right. Kane’s gonna die here with him in this stupid fucking cave, all because Benrey wanted to see some lights.

“This is all my fault,” he mumbles, tugging on a strand of hair. “I never should’ve - she was right, this whole time, I just -“ 

Kane’s hands grip his shoulders, firm but gentle, forcing him to look at the thief’s face. "Benrey, don't blame yourself. Sometimes things go bad...that's how life works. It's - it's gonna be ok." In a different context it might be comforting. Right now, they’re about to die, and Kane’s voice is shaking.

Benrey’s voice is choked when he responds. “I’m sorry, Kane.”

"Gordon.” Benrey tilts his head, and Kane drops his hands from his shoulders with a sigh. “It's - my real name is Gordon Freeman. I made up Kane. You might as well know it now."

“Feetman?” Benrey asks with a shaky smile.

“If we weren’t trapped in a cave I’d hit you with your crowbar,” Kane - Gordon? - Gordon says. For the briefest of seconds, he smiles at Benrey. 

“I, uh. I have magic hair that glows when I sing,” he says. Keeping a secret doesn’t matter when they’re both about to die. Gordon furrows his brows, looking questioningly at Benrey, and a sudden burst of inspiration hits as he repeats himself. “I have - oh shit!” He starts singing, voice shakier than normal as he races through the song. “Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine -“ The water is still rising, and maybe it’s his imagination but it feels even faster. “Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine -”

The last line gets cut off as the water fills the cave completely. He’s never tried singing underwater before, and for a moment he’s terrified it won’t work - and then his hair lights up, a bright neon teal, illuminating the cave. Gordon swims down to the bottom, pushing aside rocks desperately. He finds one that’s loose enough, dislodging it, and the rest follow suit. The wall starts to crumble before collapsing completely, launching the two of them into a river, the current quickly sweeping them downstream and onto a grassy bank. 

Benrey drags himself out, flopping limply onto the grass, taking deep breaths as he stares up at the sky. “We’re alive,” he breathes, looking over at Gordon. He likes that name better, now that he has a spare moment to think about it. Laughter bubbles up out of him, along with bright yellow-green. Olive means I’m glad to be alive.

Beside him, Gordon is less chill, elbows on the grass and hands in his hair. “His hair glows,” he’s mumbling. “He - hhh - his hair? Glowing - glowy shit - people don’t glow!” From there his words just get more and more incoherent as he stares at the ground.

With a huff, Benrey stands up, starting to squeeze the water out of his hair. Jefferem shakes himself dry, splashing water onto Gordon. “You good?” Benrey asks.

“Am I - are you good?? What the fuck was that? How long have you been - ow, fuck -” He pulls his right hand close to himself, and when he holds it out again Benrey sees blood, bright red against the brown skin. He must’ve cut himself on a rock or something. 

Benrey offers a hand to help Gordon get up, so he doesn’t put pressure on the injured one. “Lets, uh. Find somewhere to dry off first and then we can play 20 questions?” Or, maybe, if he stalls long enough, Gordon will forget whatever he wants to ask and Benrey can keep pretending like he’s a person.

[charming-charlie]

One More Chance

Title // One More Chance

Pairing // Anthony Ramos x Fem!Reader

Warnings // Light swearing, fluff, mentions of loneliness.

Summary // It’s been years since you last saw Anthony, one of your high school friends. What happens when you finally see each other during his Hamilton run?

Word Count // 2,879

Prompt // “Be kinder to yourself, alright? For my sake. I can't stand watching you beat yourself up like this.”

You thought for sure Anthony wouldn’t remember you. He was a big, fancy Broadway star. You had to be one of the last things on his mind, if you were even on there. But he came through. After you direct messaged him your address, which was in New York since you never left, he sent tickets and backstage passes to the show that he was a part of. This was a dream come true for you. Not only would you get to see your long-lost friend again, but this was also the first Broadway show you’ll ever attend. Tickets were always out of your price range, and you didn’t make enough money to splurge on such an extravagant purchase.

It would be nice to see him again, but you knew it would probably be wishful thinking that he would remember you in person. It’s been a while since the two of you were in high school. You could go on and on about the memories in English class, but you wouldn’t dare bring those up. No, you are only going just to enjoy the show. That’s it.

Perhaps that was also wishful thinking because the Richard Rogers Theater, on this particular Friday night, was packed. You shouldn’t have been surprised. Hamilton received glowing reviews. People were raving about it. It made sense that it was such a sensation. You found your seat with the help of an usher and you were equally surprised that it was in the center off to the right, close to the stage. You would get a clear view of facial expressions and everything. Damn, Anthony was really taking care of you.

You purposefully left the backstage pass at home. You didn’t want to bother him, or the cast, when they had other fans and people to see. It’d be okay and it was no stress off your back. You just wanted to see the show and have a good time. That was enough for you.

It was curtain time, and everyone took their seats. The lights went dim and you sat there in awe, watching Leslie Odom Jr. take the stage and begin the first song. You didn’t get to be immersed in the musical for long, because there he was. Your long-lost friend, dawning a white coat, hair pulled back, taking the stage as he began talking about the ten-dollar founding father without a father. That was all it took.

You could not take your eyes off him for the entire first half and you swore he saw you too. Though you knew that was impossible, with the dark lights in the theater and everything. But for a few moments, it brought you comfort that perhaps he recognized you and all was well.

His character, John Laurens, engaged in a duel and you wouldn’t admit it but your heart almost stopped at the count of ten. You knew it was fake, but the tension sent you in a bit of a frenzy. Still, you couldn’t hide the fact that you were genuinely upset that John Laurens didn’t make it to the second act, but the playbill said Anthony was credited as two characters. Luckily, he wasn’t done yet. Good, you weren’t ready to see him disappear from your life again.

Intermission came so fast, it shocked you. The pace of the show was fast and upbeat, and you were so engrossed in Non-Stop, you didn’t realize that was the end. At least, for fifteen minutes. Letting out a sigh, you stood up and stretched your legs. You weren’t thirsty but a lot of people were rushing out to grab a drink or use the restroom. You were fine. You checked your phone and tried to occupy yourself until you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Excuse me, miss.”

You turn around and you saw a tall man wearing a security tag. Sudden panic rose inside you and he could tell. “Can you follow me, please?”

You nodded, saying nothing. The tall security man walked through a side door labeled Employees Only and you were quick against his heels. There was a lot of commotion backstage. People were rushing around, changing costumes, dancing in the stairwell, recording videos and taking pictures… it honestly looked like a good time.

The security man approached a dressing room and knocked on the door. It was Lin’s door. Wait, what? Your breath hitched in your throat. You read that this show was basically Lin’s baby. Were you somehow disrespecting it? Lin opened the door with a smile. He was in the middle of changing clothes, but he wasn’t rushing. “I brought the patron you requested,” the security guard said before turning and walking away.

Lin was adjusting the microphone in his hair and he opened the door to invite you in. There wasn’t much room in the tiny dressing room so you stayed out in the hallway, looking confused but feeling surreal that you were staring at Lin-Manuel Miranda. “Sorry if that scared you, but we’ve been waiting since My Shot to get you back here.” He held out a hand, offering it to you. “I’m Lin.”

You blinked and coughed out your name. “Y/N,” you said while shaking his hand.

He nodded, as if he already knew. “I’ve heard about you. You have some fans back here,” Lin said. He adjusted his shoes, putting on the final touches for whatever he needed for the second act. Fans? Surely he was confusing you with someone else.

He sensed your confusion, and he let out a soft laugh. “This must be a little weird, right? I mean, first Anthony asked for backstage passes for this girl, and then she doesn’t bother showing up with said passes. I’m assuming you forgot them. He thinks you don’t want to see him. Which one of us is right? We have a little bet going on back here.”

You felt like you should be offended but Lin was so polite about it. The way he was talking about it, it made it seem like it was a joke, all in good fun, his attempt at jest.

“I um… I mean, I didn’t think it was…” you were stumbling over your words, not sure how to put it into a coherent sentence. This was definitely off putting, and Lin was sensing your discomfort. His smile fell and he looked apologetic.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. Come with me,” Lin said, and he nodded his head in the direction of a hallway. He began walking and you followed him. You passed several people, including some you recognize from the show. It was a bit frantic though. There was not a lot of time between the first and second act, but everyone looked as though they had a routine and it worked for them.

“Hey Anthony, I found your girl for you,” Lin said and he turned to you, “we’ll get you another backstage pass. No worries about forgetting it at home.” He winked at you and left you standing in the doorway of Anthony Ramos, your long-lost high school friend. He was out of the blue coat and was wearing something entirely different. This was probably his second character. You wouldn’t know since you ignored his section in the playbill completely. You couldn’t bring yourself to read about him, not after everything.

He turned to look at you, his eyes alight and a soft smile on his face. “Y/N,” he said, and damn did your name sound good on his lips, “you made it. Come in.”

He extended an arm and you walked into his dressing room. It was jam packed with all kinds of stuff. You sat on the couch and he turned back to the mirror, fixing whatever he needed to do in order to prepare for the next part of the show. He looked at you through the mirror, studying you a bit.

“I didn’t think you’d remember me,” you said suddenly. Your eyes shot off him, avoiding his gaze. You felt your face get hot. You were not expecting to suddenly just say whatever was on your mind.

Anthony’s smile turned into a slight frown and he turned around to face you. “Really? Tenth grade, Chemistry partners. You, Ms. Y/N, broke a slide under a microscope and I took the fall. Remember that?” he folded his arms across his chest, slightly tilting his head. His voice didn’t sound accusatory, it was more like he was trying to light up your memories that you hid in the deep corner of your brain. You honestly forgot about that situation.

Not wanting to be outdone, you stood up. “Freshman English, Shakespeare partners. We made fun of Romeo and Juliet for their stupid, short love story where like, eight people died in three days. I called it tragic, and you called it teenage drama. We got lunch detention.”

Your memory caused Anthony’s smile to come back and he moved in with his arms outstretched slowly. Since you were now positive that he remembered you, you wasted no time pushing yourself into his arms and hugging him. It felt really good. It felt like old times, like for a split second, a tiny moment, you had your friend back. He wasn’t just some big, hotshot Broadway star. He was your Anthony Ramos, the goofy kid in high school that made you laugh and made school so much more bearable.

“I’m glad you reached out to me,” Anthony said as the two of you let go of the embrace, “how have you been? What’s life been like since high school?”

That was a conversation you wanted to avoid completely. Instead, you turned the conversation back on him, ignoring his raised eyebrows at the sudden topic change. “I never thought I’d see you on Broadway. You look good. I mean… you look happy, not that you look good. I mean, you do look good but that’s… you know what, never mind.”

Damn you and your stupid word vomit. Anthony only laughed.

An announcement above said that there was ten minutes left until showtime and Anthony looked completely unfazed by the sudden voice. He was so used to it, he probably has the intermission down to the second.

“Shouldn’t you get ready?” you asked him, unaware of his overall routine.

To your surprise, he shook his head. “I just have one thing left to do, and I have time. I’m not in the first song when the show comes back.” He could tell you were sort of closed off, and he didn’t want to push, but you could see the curiosity in his eyes. “I had a crush on you in high school, you know.”

Your head snapped in his direction and you refused to believe it. “Stop, that’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking.”

You folded your arms over your chest, taking on a defensive stance. He was trying to get you to talk, but you didn’t want to tell him. You didn’t want to tell him that you liked him too, and when the two of you stopped talking, you drifted into an unhealthy mental spiral. It was stupid how much you relied on him when you were younger, how much you needed him in your life, and he just left you in the dust. Not that you held that against him, it all worked out. For him, that is.

“Well, thank you,” you manage to say but that wasn’t enough for him. He leaned forward and grabbed you by the arm, but your arms were tightly linked together over your chest. He didn’t relinquish his grip though.

“That’s it? A thank you?”

“What else do you want me to say?”

“Say what you always wanted to say.”

Of course, he didn’t mean that. That was some word vomit you wanted to keep in. This was the first time in how many years since you’ve seen him, and you didn’t want to say something you would regret. Yet would you regret it if you didn’t tell him what was running through your mind? Your eyes turned to look at him. He looked somewhat sad, a tiny frown twitching at the corners of his lips.

“You left without saying goodbye. Which is fine, you had some great opportunities, but you were honestly my best friend. I liked you too and it sucks because I didn’t think you would leave this giant hole in me. How stupid is that?” you asked, and you practically slammed your mouth shut. No more, you don’t need to say anything else.

Anthony genuinely looked like you slapped him. There was a look of pain that graced his freckled face and he let go of you.

“Here, fresh off the press. Or… the box. Whatever.” Lin laughs while swinging a backstage pass from his fingers. He sensed such tension that he stopped in his tracks, his face fell in surprise and he slowly looped the backstage pass over the doorknob of the dressing room. “Uh… there’s like five minutes until curtain, Ant. Don’t forget to fix your hair. Philip hair, remember? That’s not Philip hair.”

Lin disappeared shortly after that and that was your cue. “Thanks for the invite. I’m going back to my seat now.” You turned on your heels and made one step toward the door, but Anthony’s reach was fast. He grabbed you by the elbow and pulled you back. You stumbled just a bit and regained your balance thanks to Anthony’s grip. The moment you turned to look at him, he stared at you, a sort of boldness now making its way through his face. In the blink of an eye, it all changed.

He kissed you.

You don’t even recall him leaning in. One minute, you were about to tell him off, and then the next, he was kissing you. It was soft and sweet, a gentle touch that let you relax against him. Anthony, however, kept a grip on your arm, which was probably for the best. You liked the fact that he was trying to keep you in place.

His forehead rested against your own and he let space come between your lips and his as the kiss came to an end. He whispered softly, “Be kinder to yourself, alright? For my sake. I can't stand watching you beat yourself up like this.”

Letting you go, Anthony grabbed the backstage pass off the doorknob and looked at it. He turned it back and forth, like he never seen it before. “If I give this to you, are you going to use it this time?”

Your mind was still swirling from the precious kiss and you couldn’t manage to say anything. Instead, you just nodded. He smiled, approached you, and placed the pass around your neck. It weighed next to nothing. Anthony’s fingers traced the lanyard, down to the pass itself, but his hands continued moving. They finally stopped on the curves of your waist.

He was going to kiss you again. God, you hoped he would.

A voice on the speaker crackled through, warning the cast, crew, and ensemble that there was one minute left until curtain and then the second act would be in full swing.

“I need to finish getting ready,” he said, sounding a bit sad.

“What’s Philip hair?” you asked out of curiosity.

Anthony turned to the mirror, reached a hand up to his hair and pulled the tie out. His long hair fell out of place and he grabbed a brush, brushing it out. “Philip hair.”

You laughed which caused him to smile. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

He turned back to face you, letting an arm slip over your shoulders as he pulled you in for a side hug and held you in place. His lips pressed themselves against your temple and in that moment, things felt right. He was patching the hole that he left you with. He was fixing you, even though he shouldn’t have to. He didn’t do anything wrong. Still, it felt nice. It was nice that he cared.

“You are free to go back to your seat and finish the show, but I want you back here when we bow out,” Anthony said. The demand was enough to send some butterflies swirling in the pit of your stomach.

“I’ll be here. Good luck.”

What’d I Miss started playing in the background and he kissed you again. You had to break free and go back to your seat, you were already missing part of the show. It wasn’t difficult to find your way back, and you caught Lin’s eye as your sat back down. You sent him an apologetic look for disrupting the show, but he only smiled and nodded before doing his bit in the song.

This night was the first time in a long time where you smiled so much. It was going to be tough to sit through the rest of the show when all you wanted to do was go backstage and be with Anthony. Your long-lost friend wasn’t long-lost anymore. The hole in your heart was almost filled in. You couldn’t wait for the show to be over. Soon, you’ll be back in Anthony’s arms. He’ll be waiting for you. Finally.

[mrsalwayswrite]

Aes Sídhe (Finan x Reader) Part 2

Here is part 2! Yay! Huge thank you to everyone who liked/commented/reblogged part 1. Y’all are the best! 

Also, prepare yourselves. I’m rewatching The Last Kingdom so there will be more TLK fanfics from me! 

As always, can be read as reader or OFC. 

Warnings: None

Words:1600

Tags: @happyveday​ @lauwrite1225​ @geekandbooknerd​

Part 1

The sounds and stench of Wintanceaster were both familiar and abhorrent. Finan did not mind the city but dear God and all His saints did it take some adjustment after being in the fresh air of the road and smaller villages. 

 He leaned against a table, a cup of ale in hand and foot propped up against the bench across from him. The group relaxed outside of the alehouse. Uhtred was catching up with Father Beocca, Osferth listening intently. Clapa and Sihtric were both drinking silently like Finan, listening in to the conversation and latest news. They had spent the last three months traveling to different burhs and spending minimal time in Coccham. Now they awaited their new orders from King Alfred. 

 Abruptly, Finan felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Someone was watching him. He knew that feeling. Subtly, he tried to scan those around. A few other patrons were drinking and talking at other tables. A man pulled a cart with a young boy by his side. A pair of priests, their large crosses dangled from their necks and bounced against their chests as they walked. A couple soldiers, a few women with baskets on their hips, some chicken and dogs scurrying around. Nothing unusual. Nothing to warrant this feeling. Yet he could not let it go. 

 He shifted, lifting the cup to his lips once again. A loud bang drew his attention in the blacksmith's direction. His eyes lazily drifted that way just to satisfy his curious, not expecting much. 

 Then he saw her. 

 He almost dropped his cup in his shock. 

 She stood next to a building across from the alehouse. Her forest green dress was partially hidden by a brown cape with the hood up, leaving only her face exposed. A basket was held in her arms. That face and eyes, he would recognize anywhere. They haunted both his waking and sleeping hours. She was just as mesmerizing as last he saw her.

 And she was staring at him. 

 "Oi." Finan smacked Sihtric's arm, making the Dane grunt and turn around. "You see her. Green dress, brown cape with a basket."

 "Yes...she is pretty. Do you know her?"

 Knowing she was not an illusion, someone else confirmed her appearance, he refused to let her escape him this time. He drained the rest of his ale quickly, practically throwing the cup back on the table in his haste. As he drank, she had started to walk away, her back turned to him. Like a hound having caught a scent, he followed. None too gently, he pushed those in his way, eyes refusing to abandon her form for fear of losing her in the mingling crowd. 

 "Wait, aes sídhe!" He easily caught up to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. His breath stuck in his throat when she turned to face him. Up close she was even more radiant. The next words tumbled out of his mouth as he stood awestruck. "Ya are real."

 She giggled and he could feel his heart leap at the delightful sound. Slowly she pushed her hood back. "Of course, my lord."

 "Oh, I'm no lord, my lady."

 "Well, I am no lady."

 "What does that make us?" He teased, still in awe. She was here. She was truly real. Over the past three months he had begun to doubt but the small strip of white cloth he kept was the only thing to prove otherwise. 

 She shrugged, glancing around a moment before meeting his gaze once again. "Whoever we want to be?"

 They stood smiling at each other, in a bubble of their own making as people walked past them, like a rock that the stream forced to flow around. Everything faded away until the whole world just consisted of the two of them. 

 "Why did ya run? Last time."

 "You startled me…" she softly said, blushing, "...and I was in my undergarment. It would not be appropriate to hold a conversation thusly."

 He laughed, eyes crinkling. Oh, he very much remembered her standing there in the fading sunlight in her shift. Nothing would ever be as beautiful. But he doubted she wanted to hear that right now. "Aye, that makes a fair point. I am Finan."

 She replied her name and it seared itself onto his soul. A permanent stain that he would cherish for eternity. 

 "I need to take these herbs to a friend," she gestured to her basket, eyes remorseful. "I promised to bring them over before dinner. I am sorry."

 "May I escort you?" He blurted, not ready to leave her side. 

 "I would like that."

 The pair walked side by side, shoulders brushing occasionally as they maneuvered the streets of Wintanceaster. At her insistence, Finan told her about himself, his lord Uhtred and their life in Coccham. His humorous stories of some of their exploits and shenanigans caused her to reach out and grab his arm so she could keep upright and walk amidst her laughing. He decided her laugh was his favorite sound in the world. 

 She spoke about how her family just moved to Wintanceaster from an outlying village close to Mercia's borders. Her father feared for their safety due to Dane raids, so they moved to the heart of Wessex. That was how they had stumbled upon one another at the creek. She had slipped away from her family and those traveling with to cleanse herself and be away from the chaos of the caravan. So far down the creek she had not expected to come across someone.

 When she confessed there had been a small cave she had hidden herself in from him, he laughed and confessed he thought her a faerie and had vanished from sight. 

 "Is that what you called me?"

 "Mmm? Oh? Aes sídhe."

 "Does that mean a faerie?"

 "In a way," he confessed, rubbing the back of his neck, "I thought you were too beautiful to be real…"

 She blushed and tucked some wayward strands of hair behind her ear. "You are too kind."

 "Tis not kindness if its the truth."

 Bumping her shoulder playfully against him, she smiled. "Tell me more stories."

 So he did, as he followed her to a friend's house, whom she gave the herbs in her basket in exchange for some cloth. Then they started back the way they had come. 

 "...and that next mornin', we found my boots in the chicken coop with eggs laid in them. A terrible problem really, those hens thought I came to steal their eggs when I just wanted my boots back."

 She giggled. "And the others?"

 "Aye, Sihtric woke up that mornin' with a cookin' pot on his head and somehow Clapa's axes on the roof. Clapa had to boost Sihtric up, so he could retrieve them...only after they were both sober enough to stand up that is."

 They both laughed at the story, and to Finan, it seemed like the sun shown just a little brighter with her by his side. 

 Up ahead he could see Uhtred and his men were still at the alehouse. For a moment he felt guilty about running with a word then shrugged it off. It was worth it. 

 She stopped just before the alehouse, him following suit. They stared at one another again, lost in the other's presence and soft smiles. 

 "I must return to my family. I am sure your lord is waiting for you."

 "Can I see ya again?" 

 A moment of hesitation and it felt like his heart stopped beating. She looked down, biting her bottom lip. Before he could rescind the offer, she looked up smiling. "That would please me."

 He let out a breath he had not realized he was holding. "Where are ya stayin'?"

 "You'll have to find me. Use those warrior skills." She winked and took several steps back, still holding his gaze.

 He was not having that. His feet overtook the ground forward as she moved back. "I could just follow ya now."

 "That defeats the challenge then, does it not?"

 He opened his mouth to respond, loving the mischievous gleam in her eyes, but was interrupted. 

 "FINAN!" 

 The Irishman glanced over his shoulder to see his friends watching him. Catching his eye, Uhtred jerked his head. Apparently, they were done waiting. 

 "They must miss you."

 "Aye, I am not easily replaceable or forgettable."

 "No...no, you are not." She took one step closer until their chests were almost touching. Swiftly, she placed a quick peck on his cheek and whispered in his ear. "There's an inn that has a painting of a blue flower on it." With that, she turned and walked away. 

 His feet remained frozen on those dirty streets, watching her walk down a side alley. As if feeling his lingering gaze, she turned and met his eyes. A smile and shake of her head at him then she turned back around and vanished from his sight. 

 Only then did he feel freed to move. A stupid grin on his face, and heart soaring above, he turned and moved back towards his friends. 

 "Who was that? She was very pretty." Uhtred raised an eyebrow, leaning against one of the tables. 

 "Do ya know of an inn with a blue flower on it?" He ignored Uhtred's questioning gaze. 

 Father Beocca answered with a confused look. "I do. It is behind the church. It is mostly used by wealthy traders or traveling priests."

 Finan grunted, a plan forming in his mind. 

 "Who was she?" 

 He looked at his friend, usable to hold back the beaming smile. He clapped Uhtred's shoulder, looking back towards where she had disappeared just moments ago. "That, my lord, is my future wife."

[sunmoonandeddie]

rosemary’s corner

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 2,788

summary: There’s something up with Bucky.

warnings: Some h*ckin’ words.

a/n:  This is dedicated to @johnnynunzio.  I love you so, so much and I’m so proud of you.

There was something up with Bucky.

And Sam could call him paranoid all he wanted, but at the end of the day, Steve Rogers knew his best friend—goddamnit—and he knew something was going on.

Bucky had gotten into the habit of disappearing for hours on end—sometimes entire nights—without warning, only to reappear and act as though he had been in the Tower the whole time.  And even though he wasn’t big on hanging out with the rest of the team before, it had gotten even worse over the past few months.  Hell, when he was with the team, he spent the entire time staring at his phone.

Steve’s brows furrowed as he stepped out of the elevator.  He’d spent the past four hours down in the gym, desperately trying to figure out what the hell was going on with his best friend.

But if he couldn’t figure it out, maybe FRIDAY could.

“Hey, Fri?” He called out as he shut his bedroom door.

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

The heat of the water turns his skin pink as he scrubs at his hair.  “Do you know where Bucky’s been going?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers.”

When the A.I. doesn’t continue, he frowns up at the ceiling as though she was up there.  “... Can you tell me where he is?”

The A.I. sounded almost sorry as she said, “I’m sorry, Captain Rogers, but Sergeant Barnes asked me to not tell anyone his whereabouts.”

“Even me?”

“Yes, even you.”

And okay, yeah, that kind of really fucking hurts.  It hurts that Bucky is keeping something from him because in their hundred years or so of being alive, they’d never kept secrets from each other.  Shit, Bucky had even told Steve when he first got his hands up a dame’s skirt way back in ‘34.

They told each other everything.

“Alright,” the blond said as he shut off the water.  “Guess it’s time for Plan C.”

Plan C, as it turns out, requires a little more time.  It means waiting until Bucky gets back to the Tower and then waiting for him to leave again.

But apparently that’s even harder than he thought it would be since trying to catch the former Winter Soldier leaving is like trying to catch a ghost.

It took him almost two weeks to finally catch him.  It was a little after nine, and the rest of the team had retreated to their respective bedrooms for the night.

Steve, however, spent almost half an hour by his door, ear pressed to the wood and listening for the tell tale sound of Bucky’s door opening from across the hall.

When he finally heard the creak at precisely 9:42 PM, he makes sure to wait a few minutes before following him out.  He took the stairs, bolting down each flight.  He had to wait several long minutes for the elevator to catch up, watching as Bucky zipped up his jacket before heading out into the cool autumn air.

Not for the first time, he cursed his best friend’s ability to sneak through the streets of New York almost undetected.  Plan A had been Bucky just telling his best friend where he was going as he should’ve done as his goddamn best friend, and if that had happened like Steve had hoped, he wouldn’t be traversing down tenth, after having to follow him through several subway rides.

He’s even more confused when he started to spot the NYU signs littering the area.

He stopped in his tracks as Bucky stepped into a familiar looking store, a string of lights glittering brightly in the window display despite the late hour.

He vaguely remembered walking past the shop with him a few weeks before, but when he’d told Bucky that they should stop in sometime, he’d immediately clammed up and shrugged, claiming that it was probably too hipstery for either of their tastes.

Which, to be fair, it was really close to the New York University campus.

Steve got a little closer, just enough to peek in through the window that had ‘Rosemary’s Corner’ emblazoned across it.

The store was the perfect picture of cozy, though it did have that hipster feel that both him and Bucky tried to avoid.  Shelves full of records lined the front end of the shop, lights hung up along the tops of each one.  He could just barely see what seemed to be a coffee station towards the back, a menu with titles such as ‘Pumpkin Spice Marshmallow Latte’ and ‘Blueberry Delight Cappuccino’ hung up on the wall behind it.  A vintage record player in the corner was crooning out the familiar voice of Billie Holiday, just barely audible outside the shop.

And there in the back, amidst the waist high shelves, was his best friend.  Steve’s eyes widened as he watched him grab a record from a cart next to him, handing it to a girl who seemed to be the only employee present.  There was a flush in his cheeks, a shy smile tugging at his lips, that the blond hadn’t seen since the forties.

The girl seemed to be just as enamoured as him as she placed the record amongst the stacks.  Her movements were slow, unhurried, as she took each record that Bucky offered her.  She seemed so content to just be in his presence.

Bucky’s mouth moved silently and he lit up like a Christmas tree as he watched the girl erupt into giggles.  Her teeth caught her lower lip as she moved to shelve yet another record, but she froze as the man’s flesh hand reached up to gently tug it, releasing it.  The two of them were stuck in place, too lost in each other to think about the task at hand.

And despite the fact that anyone could walk past at any moment and see them through the window, Steve felt like he was intruding on something… private.  The intimacy between the two so apparent that it sent a blush to his cheeks to have seen it.  Just before he turned to leave, he saw Bucky rub the back of his neck in embarrassment, the both of them attempting to pretend that they didn’t just have a moment.

He went back the next day, when he knew that Bucky would be stuck at the Tower for at least a few more hours.  He wanted to be able to talk to her in private, to maybe ask her intentions.

And yeah, it was really shady for him to go behind Bucky’s back, but he wasn’t about to just let some girl walk in and fuck with his emotions if she didn’t intend on staying.

So he made the trek up to tenth once again, though it went a lot faster now that he knew where he was going and he didn’t have to hide.

Rosemary’s Corner looked almost the exact same during daylight, though Steve wasn’t sure why he was expecting any different.  The only difference is that there’s a few more patrons than just Bucky during the day all spread out through the shop.

The girl’s sitting at the cash register towards the back, flipping through a book.  She looked up as the bells above the door chimed with his entrance, an easy smile gracing her features.  His eyes are drawn to her shirt, recognizing it as the flannel that Bucky had been wearing the night before over his t-shirt.  The sleeves were rolled in order to accommodate her—she wasn’t exactly the size of the super soldier—but she looked so cozy it was hard to imagine her ever wishing him harm.  “Hi!  Welcome to Rosemary’s!”

He tried to pretend as though he’s not there to interrogate her, perusing through the stacks in what he hopes is a casual and aimless manner.

“Hi.”

Steve jumped, whirling around to stare at the girl.  “Hey.”  The super soldier was more than a little surprised that she was able to sneak up at him—he had espionage training from Natasha fucking Romanoff.  But even so, she’d somehow managed to approach him without making the slightest noise.

“You’re James’s friend, Steve,” she said, holding out her hand for him to shake as she gave him her name.

He eyed her hand warily.  “How do you know me?”

Her eyebrows rose as she stared at him, reminding him a little too much of how a certain redhead would look at him when he was being particularly stupid.  “It takes more than a baseball hat to fool me, Captain.”

Swallowing, he crossed his arms over his chest, going into full Captain mode.  “Then I’m sure you know why I’m here.”

But she simply breezed past him, heading for a cart at the end of the aisle with a sign on it that read Don’t want it?  Leave it here!  Thanks!

He stood there in his spot for what seemed like ages, staring after her.  Did she really just disregard him?  He was Captain fucking America.  No one had disregarded him like that since he was in the USO shows.

“You know, I used to come here everyday when I was a student,” she said, pushing up the sleeves of the flannel to her elbows, before nudging the cart towards the first row of stacks.  “Back then, it was owned by Albert Cook.  He opened it for his wife back in ‘97 because his wife, Rosemary, missed records.  Everyone was using CDs at that point, and it just wasn’t the same.  They added the coffee shop in ‘02.”

Steve followed her like a puppy as she reshelved the records.  He wasn’t sure where she was going with all of this, but she’d made it clear that she wasn’t going to put up with him pushing her around.

“They hired me here my freshman year, but I was here even when I wasn’t working.  It’s my favorite place in the entire world, and Albert and Rosemary became my home away from home.  It’s not easy moving so far from home for college, but they helped me.  A lot.  Two years after I graduated, it became mine.”  She paused, staring at the Cher record in her hand.  Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears and Steve could feel the sorrow rolling off of her in waves.  “Albert passed and in his will…  I told Rosemary that I wasn’t going to take the shop from her, that she could have it, but she insisted I take it.  Apparently her and Albert had decided to put me in his will ages before he died…”  Her eyes crinkled up as she laughed, “I thought their kids were going to shit themselves.  They were so mad.”  She shrugged as she finally put the Cher record in its place.  “Rosemary didn’t really understand why they were so mad about me getting the shop when they never came in.  But she moved upstate with her kids and I moved into the apartment upstairs.  I still see her every week for lunch.”

“Excuse my interruption,” Steve said when he finally sensed a pause.  “But why are you telling me all of this?”

She finally turned to him then, looking so open and honest that it took him aback.  “You’re here to question me about James, and I get that.  He’s been through a lot.”

“He’s told you?” He asked, blue eyes wide.  “About all the… HYDRA stuff?”  At her nod, he narrowed his eyes at her.  “But he never tells anyone about—”

“Well, he tells me,” she snapped, her hands going to her hips.  “I know about all the things he’s done and I don’t care.  He’s the best man I’ve ever met.”  The girl closed her eyes as she paused, taking in a deep breath.  When she opened her eyes, the storm in her eyes had settled.  “I need you to know that I love James.  I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt him.  And while I can appreciate that he has a best friend like you—”

“You don’t like your loyalty being questioned,” Steve finished, much quieter.  He felt as though he’d been put in his place, which didn’t happen often.  “I…  I don’t either.  Not when it comes to Bucky.”

A sarcastic smile settled on her lips.  “We have that in common, Captain.”

The two of them went quiet as she went back to her task, occasionally having to go to the front to ring up a customer or make a cup of coffee.  At some point, Steve started helping her, handing her the records just as Bucky had been doing the night before.  Customers came and went, but as it got later, it got less and less populated.

“I changed the hours a few months after I got the shop,” she mused as she glanced over at the few college kids studying at one of the tables.  One of them had put on a Hozier album, the earthy songs sounding like they belonged on a record.  “It’s better for college students.  Gives them a place to study or just hang out late at night, and they can choose any album from the used record wall to play for free.”  Her nose scrunched as she smiled.  “And I’m not much of a morning person, so it gives me a reason to sleep in until noon.”

“Does he know you love him?” Steve asked suddenly, cheeks going a particular shade of pink.  “Bucky, I mean.”

“Yeah, I got that,” she said, nudging him.  But she was just as flushed as him.  “I hope so.  I haven’t exactly been subtle.  But I might have to make a move soon if he doesn’t.”

He cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets.  “You should.  Make a move, that is.”

“He can be rather shy, can’t he?”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Both of them looked up, startled, to see the man of the hour standing there in the doorway.  Neither of them had heard the bells above the door as he entered.

“James,” she breathed, a fond smile painting her lips as she saw him.  “You’re early tonight.”

His ocean eyes softened just a tad as they flickered over to her, but hardened juts as quickly when he turned his attention back to the other man.  “What are you doing here?”

“I followed you last night,” he said, apology clear in his eyes.

“Why?”

Steve flinched at the harshness of his tone, but knowing that he more than deserved it.  “I was worried, Buck.  You weren’t telling me where you were going, and you disappeared for so long and I was just…  I was worried.”

“You don’t have to take care of me,” Bucky said as he moved to stand in between his girl and his best friend.  “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”

“I know that.”

“Then why—”

“James,” she said, cutting him off, “He’s here because he cares.  We both do.”  The man searched her eyes, his metal hand gently resting on her elbow.  “I’m okay.  Captain America can’t scare me.”

Steve crossed his arms over his chest, once again feeling like an intruder.  He’d never seen his best friend so taken with a girl, so... enraptured.  “Don’t worry.  Your girl put me in my place faster than I could blink.”

The brunet flushed, shaking his head.  “She’s not—”

“I think I should go,” he said, backing towards the door.  “I’ll leave you two alone.  But, Buck—”  He nodded towards the girl, who had slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.  “Don’t be afraid to bring her around the Tower.  I’m sure everyone would love her.”

Bucky nodded once, his arm moving to wrap around the girl’s waist and bring her into his chest.  “I will.”

As Steve stepped out into the night air, he was shocked by how late it had gotten, by just how long he’d spent in the shop.  A breeze promising an early winter ruffled his hair and sent a chill through him.  As he wrapped his jacket tighter around him, he took one last look at the two through the window.

The girl was pressed up against him, eyes sparkling as she stared up at Bucky.  He could clearly read the words ‘I love you’ on her lips and the shock on his best friend’s face.  Without a second thought, she pressed her lips to his, her fingers tangling in his hair.  It took a few seconds for his brain to start working again, but when it did, his arms wrapped around her tightly, pulling her in for another kiss just as she started to pull away.

Steve headed for the subway, a smirk on his lips.  “You’re in good hands, jerk.”

[hoodoo12]

Elegy (3/6)

Part 1 Part 2

Further drinking, making a scene, and a stumbling walk home. @clairjohnson ‘s Miss Argentina puts up with a lot.

@beejiesbitch @turtlepated @janitor-boy @angelicspaceprince @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @thewolfisapartofmysoul

His eyelids felt as heavy as his hand, and when he blinked, tears finally fell. He wasn't so drunk not to know that was embarrassing, so he wiped his face roughly with the back of his hand. 

Maria was sitting so proper across the table from him. She thought him pathetic; he knew that deep in the depths of his soul, and even deeper, he knew she was right. He'd been reduced to trying to trick a teenager. A teenager who turned the tables on him, who fucking lied and sent him right back to the Netherworld –  

Anger returned, nipping at the heels of the well of self-pity he was floundering in. He used it as a rope to haul himself back up, but words failed him this time. Inarticulately he roared, slamming his palms so hard on the table it made his bottle tip over. 

Luckily Maria's glass was still in her hand, and doubly lucky his bottle fell away from them both. 

The luck lessened when he noticed staff of the club clustered and whispering as they looked over at their booth, and it fled entirely when he caught sight of the Madame of the place heading their way. She wasn't accompanied by any bouncer, at least. 

Yet. 

Stopping at the front of the table and adjusting her full skirt over her hips Madame Bouriseau smiled politely at the beauty queen. Diplomatically the expression remained as she turned her attention to Beetlejuice, although it hardened the lines on her face a bit. 

"Miss," she said with a nod to Maria, in greeting, “ and Beetlejuice. Although we are always happy to host guests, certain behaviors are not tolerated in the club." 

She turned to the ghost who had managed to set the tipped bottle upright and was scowling.

 "You are fully aware of the rules. Another outburst like that, Lawrence, and you're out."

The use of his name, Beetlejuice glanced up. He opened his mouth as if to spit something back at her, but the set to her face brooked no argument. Sullenly, he nodded. 

"You'll be paying for the cleaning of the upholstery," she added, nodding towards the plush bench that had absorbed some of the alcohol he spilled. "If you would like to follow me, I'll find you a new seat and freshen your drink." 

The last part of her offer was directed solely at Maria.

The roar and subsequent slamming of the table startled Maria. Her back straightened and her eyes went wide, hardly noticing the bottle of booze as it tipped over. 

“Beej . . .” the words were just above a whisper, and whatever else she had planned to say vanished when, she assumed, the owner of Dante’s approached. The beauty queen looked up at her apologetically  – even though she wasn’t the one to cause any problems, Maria felt a certain level of responsibility for Betelgeuse. 

Another outburst like that, Lawrence, and you’re out. 

Lawrence?? Was that his first name? No one had ever called him that. Not in the several decades they worked together  – and he had never brought it up. How the owner knew it was a mystery to her. 

At the offer of a new table and drink Maria stood, nodding politely at the older woman while she did. 

“A new table would be great, thank you.” She said and lifted her half empty drink from the table. “As for the drink refills, I think we’re both all set . . . we’ll finish what we have here and call it a night.” 

Miss Argentina turned to the intoxicated poltergeist still slouching at the table, checking to see if there would be any protest. 

“Let’s go sit at a different booth, hm?” Maria prompted, and placed a delicate hand on his shoulder. 

She gave him a light, comforting squeeze to get his attention. It wasn’t crossing the line, yet, but she was dancing on it. Her thumb absently rubbed the stripe on his jacket as she peered down, a mix of sympathy and frustration swirling around in her chest. She needed to bring this man home soon.

Being chastised reduced him to an inch tall. The soft hand on his shoulder  – when did Maria get up? – made it worse, his fuzzy brain realizing that both women were looking down on him with what he imagined was disgusted pity on their faces. 

The fingers straightening the collar of his jacket felt nice, however. 

Beetlejuice pushed himself to his feet, fumbled the bottle before getting a good grip on it, and only took a second to get his balance once upright. Looking into the open space of the club, he realized he'd been wrong. It wasn't just both women looking at him. It was most of the other girls on the floor, and some of the patrons too. 

The music was just as loud, but the laughing banter and hopeful chatting  – from the patrons, securing a dancer's attention for a little private time, for the girls, securing a patron's wallet for a little extra cash  – had died down to see the show he'd provided. For free. 

He told himself he didn't care. 

"Yeah. We can take a different booth if you want," he replied, although he didn't voice that it better be close because he wasn't sure how far he could walk while the floorboards undulated under his feet. At least it wasn't a problem to bring the bottle back to his mouth for another swig.

She saw the way he eyed the floor skeptically when he agreed to move  – with how much of that bottle he’d downed already, Maria was surprised he could stand. Not removing her hand, but sliding down to the back of his arm, she led him, slowly to the table next to them. 

“I know you’re not in a great place,” she pointed out, her eyes following his shuffling feet as she guided him, “but this was intended to be fun, compañero.” 

Maria helped him ease down into the new booth then situated herself across from him. In a few quick sips she finished her drink and set the empty cup aside, hoping he’d be reluctant to keep drinking if she stopped. The brew he was chugging was much more potent than what had been in her glass - but two cocktails in were enough to start feeling the licks of a buzz. She was a lightweight in life and death, it seemed. 

The realization had hit her when he’d knocked over the drink that she’d have to help him home. Maria had never been to his place – there hadn’t ever been a reason, and she found herself intrigued on what she’d find. 

“So – Lawrence?” The beauty queen looked across the table at him in amusement. “You never told me that was your name.”

Madame stood aside to let them pass, briefly catching Ivan's eye to impart a "you may be needed to move his dead weight, drunk body later" look. The Russian bouncer nodded his understanding but remained unobtrusive. The staff here were nothing if not professional. 

"Please let me know if you need anything," she said politely to the beauty queen, and only the beauty queen, before leaving. The Latina beauty seemed to have a handle on Beetlejuice, even if he was loud and drunk. 

Beetlejuice leaned more heavily into her arm than maybe he should have. It was nice to have a friendly arm to steady him. He plopped down into the new seat, accidently dropping the bottle a little more loudly on the table than he meant to. The tabletop just came up so fast. The bottle rocked but stayed upright this time, although it landed slightly out of easy reach. He muttered a partially slurred apology to Madame, only to find her gone. 

Maria's soft question made him look back to her. 

"Never asked," he replied, his ess more sibilant than normal. His tongue felt too big for his mouth. "No reason to. How many years was it before you tol' me your name was Maria?" 

Truthfully, she had told him and he'd known a long time. Before he got to know her better, addressing her as "Miss Argentina" was his own doing, despite her less-than-pleased response to it. Only when she'd finally laid into him about it, using some creative Spanish that he immediately stored to memory, had he quit. He liked seeing her passionate about something instead of her typical cool demeanor. 

"Lawrence is just a stupid name, along with everything else." 

Longingly he looked at the bottle, but it was too much effort to get it and drink more.

Maria scoffed, but it was in good humor. He’d introduced himself as Betelgeuse, friends (when he had any) called him Beej. That was that. He was cagey about his age, where he came from, how he died – there didn’t seem any reason to push. 

“Oh, I told you my name,” she corrected and folded her arms over her chest. “Multiple times, actually. You introduced yourself and I had no reason to believe you had another name hidden away . . . though I suppose I should have suspected. I’ve known you longer than I was alive – ” That thought struck her for a moment, and she paused to regain composure before continuing. “ – and you’ve never told me anything about yourself . . . the one time I tried to ask you about how you ended up working for Juno, you didn’t speak to me for a month.” 

She knew he must have killed himself. That much was certain when someone was a civil servant. However, most ghosts wore their death on their sleeves, so to speak. It was all very personal, yes, but at the same time very public. Whether you had been dismembered, burned, drowned, or cut – it was out for all to see. Not with Beetlejuice. There was no obvious cause of death, and it had intrigued her from the moment she met him. She had her theories, but none of them were based on anything tangible. 

The longing, lazy look he was giving the bottle set her at ease. Maybe he’d finally worn himself out.

“Let me take you home, Beej.” Maria reached across the table and moved the almost empty bottle further away from the drunken man. Then, stepping over the line, she placed her hand over his and offered a smile. “You’re a mess.”

It took several moments to realize his companion for the evening had made mention of how long they'd actually known each other, and poked a stick at some memories. He really wasn't very nice to her. 

Tears filled his eyes again, the fuckers. He tried to blame it on the booze. 

"Christ. Did I get a bottle that used water from Archeron?" he muttered, squinting to read the label of the bottle that was too far away. That was a mistake; it squeezed the tears out. He wiped the back of his hand across his face. "I meant to get Lethe." 

Maria's soft hand on his own refocused his attention. It was such a juxtaposition, her uncalloused fingers and manicured nails compared to his. With the exception of those beautiful nails, her hands were unadorned. No ring on any finger. Sure, the Miss Universe contestants were to be unmarried, but that didn't mean they couldn't be engaged. He had never once asked her about what she may have left behind. 

He was also suddenly transfixed by the fact her nails were the same color as the stone in his ring. 

Finally realizing she'd basically asked a question, Beetlejuice nodded. "Yeah. Sure. Sounds good. Your place or mine, doll?" 

The esses were still slurred. If the alcohol continued to muddle him, maybe it'd be enough to forget all the recent shit that had happened to him.

The implication behind his follow up question rattled her, and she responded with a forced laugh. Flirting was second nature to this man, and he was blind drunk, it was easy for her to brush it off. Not removing her hand from his, she slipped her fingers under his palm and stood, gently tugging him up with her. 

“Your place, tonto – so you can get some rest. I just want to make sure you get there and don’t end up passed out on the street.” 

Maria gave him another soft tug, trying to coax him out of the booth. With the way he’d been stumbling before she knew getting him home was going to be a challenge. He wasn’t exceptionally tall, but he easily weighed twice what she did – an arm slung over her shoulder might do the trick.

Her insistent tug spurred him, and Beetlejuice struggled to his feet, using the table for balance as he got there. The slight woman bolstered him for a moment between her hip and the table till he managed to not sway, and more surprisingly, she nudged herself under his arm. It felt like her arm slipped around his waist, but that couldn't be right . . .

"El tonto?" he muttered, refusing to allow his fuzzy brain to focus on her arm around him. "I'm not that naïve. More accurate to say I'm el torre, or maybe at this point I should be el ermitaño." 

They appeared to be moving, or somehow Dante's Inferno Club was moving around them, easing them towards the exit like the building itself was going to vomit them back onto the street. Vaguely, he was aware that the bulk of Ivan was not far behind them. Still, he kept up his loose tarot card train of thought.

"An' what does that make you, Maria? El sol? Hmmm. La estella? No – la emperatriz. That's it. My emperatriz." 

Just like he wasn't quite sure how they got from the table to the door, suddenly they were awash with heat on the street. Dante's was already behind them, a blistering light of red and orange in the mists.

Thankfully, he wasn't as difficult to hold up as she had feared. The beauty queen smiled absently to herself while he prattled on about tarot cards. She wasn't very familiar with tarot, not beyond the very basics, so she merely hummed her agreement at him while he spoke. 

"The Empress? Why that one?" She questioned back with the ghost of a smile, and raised a curious brow at him. "I didn't know you were into this sort of thing. I thought your interests ended at women and booze." 

Her own restraint muddled by alcohol, she nudged him lightly with her hip, emphasizing that she was teasing him. 

"Among the many things I don't know about you, where you live is one of them – you're going to have to help me out here." Maria stopped on the sidewalk and peered around, catching glimpses of buildings obscured by veils of heavy, dark mist. The Netherworld was so abysmal. She couldn't wait for her time as a civil servant to be up, just a few more decades, and then she could put in for a top world pass. See the sun again. The blue sky. Just for a little while, a few hours would be enough. The man hanging off her didn't realize how good he had it being able to sneak up to the land of the living.

Beetlejuice didn't rise to her bait. Instead, he focused his leaden feet on keeping moving in the correct direction, trusting them to find the way home like well-trained horses, and focused his fuzzy mind on her first questions. 

"La emperatriz," he repeated, rolling the syllables out of his mouth. "She's femininity. She's compassion. The same as you. She's the most beautiful . . . just like you." 

He bit his own tongue at saying any more. Something too intimate, like, "Those judges did you dirty, Maria. You deserved the crown that year," even if it was the truth. 

Suddenly he wanted a cigarette, to cover the embarrassment he was ambushed by. As she liked to say, "it's all very personal", and he knew her well enough that admitting he saw her at her pageant would step over a line, even if he would only mean it as a compliment. Too bad he was too uncoordinated to have a smoke at the moment.

Luckily, though, they'd come to the hole in the ground he called home. 

"Welcome to my oubliette." 

He attempted a flourish as if it was a thing of grandeur, and managed to throw himself off balance.

tbc . . .

[sweeethinny]

The Duke - Chapter 5

I took a while to update, I thought about quitting sometimes, I won't lie, but, I started reading fanfics and books about Monarchy and regency era theme, and all my creativity came back.

Thank you as always, @theroomofreq who is very kind to me and helps me beta this story And to all my friends who need to listen to my crazy ideas

AO3 | FF.NET | SIYE (soon) 

| G. W |

It was barely dawn when that newspaper fell on the Weasleys' door and the elf caught it. It was like every other day, well rolled, with the ink still fresh, full of gossip, important news, and political speculation, in addition to that malicious hint that they introduced in the news, to be just mean to some stupid Viscount that was stolen - and deserved it - or a newly decorated Marquis who married a woman who struck him - and who also deserved it.

It was just another normal day.

Or so it was meant to be.

As soon as Ginny came down to breakfast, she felt that something was different in the air, or maybe it was the fact that her brothers and mother were on top of her father to be able to read the newspaper page too.

‘’Good morning.’’ She called, but no one paid any attention to her. ‘’What’s so important? Did we find a gold mine?’’ Ginny stood next to Ron, needing to tiptoe to read the main and most eye-catching story on the front page of the newspaper.

'’The - yet - Duke and Duchess of Godric’s Hollow, James and Lily Potter, open the doors of their country house, for the first time in 20 years, for the fiftieth Dueling Party.

Check out more information, and the guest list so far, on page 13.’’

‘’Were we invited?’’ Ginny asked, wanting her father to leave that page right away where showed a picture of the couple in front of their huge country house, with the two of them not looking so happy to pose for the camera.

‘‘We were.’’ Ron confirmed, still looking at the newspaper. ‘’I think… Did Mr Potter go crazy?’’

‘’Ron! Don't say that!’’ Molly slapped his son on the arm, scolding him. ‘’Arthur dear, do you know why… this? Lily's authorizing something like this to happen?’’

''James had talked about applying some measures at Godric's Hollow and some changes but ... I didn't imagine he would host the Dueling Party ... I mean, they have a pretty big list of guests.'' Father said, still standing at same page of the newspaper.

‘’I heard they think they know where their son is.’’ Fred said, a little quietly, as if saying something terrible.

‘’Lily will die looking for that son.. I don’t blame her, of course, but… It’s been almost 24 years, how does she think she can find the boy? Only Merlin knows who took him, where they took him…’’ Her mother put her hand on her chest, facing Ginny. ‘’We need to find you with a new dress.’’

‘‘No mom, please.’’ Ginny denied, looking back at the newspaper. ‘’But what if he’s really alive? How will they find him? Is that why they’re having the party this year?’’

‘’James says the boy was born with a brand.’‘ The father clarified. ‘’But I don’t know if that’s why they decided-- ’’

‘‘-- I’m sorry.’’ Henry’s voice interrupted Arthur’s, and the man bowed to everyone in the room. ''Mr. Weasley, I think you would like to accompany me.'' The man did not look at Ginny, as if he was afraid to show too much, holding a torn piece of paper tightly and having his left forearm grated and dirty. Had he fallen?

'‘Of course, Mr Figg. Excuse me, love.’’ Arthur kissed his wife respectfully and then followed Henry out of the dining room. Ginny almost ran after them, knowing it seemed to have something to do with her, just from the way Henry avoided looking at her.

She hated it when they made her look like a damsel in distress who couldn't distinguish fire from ice.

''Ginny, we will see this afternoon about your dress, and Ron, we also need to decide on new clothes for you ...'' Her mother continued to talk about the duties they would have for the next few days, but all Ginny could pay attention to was in Henry walking away. His cloak was torn in the back and it looked like he had just arrived - which was strange, because he never left in the morning, always preferring to go out in the afternoon when Ginny was at tea time with her mother, or at night, at dinner time. Henry always said that in the morning, it was the time that crazy people wake up and make a mess.

He looked over his shoulder after her dad turned the corner of the hall and disappeared towards the office, but he also followed the path before Ginny was able to have any appropriate reaction.

After his intrusion, and the delay for her father to return, Ginny had to be taken care of by another Auror (she was told that Henry needed to go to his office), and nowhere was Thomas as gentle and nice to her as Henry was. 

All morning, Ginny felt like she was being followed by a ghost, in silence for all the hours that passed, a little disconcerted that Thomas didn't like talking to her like Henry did - even though sometimes it was just yes and no - and when she had to leave the house to keep her mother company on the way to the center, Ginny was excited to at least hear different voices.

''Does Mrs. Potter know that I need to bring Mr. Figg?'' Ginny asked, looking at the windows they passed, daydreaming about those colorful and well-sewn dresses.

Even though her father was a Viscount, Arthur had been decorated one after the other 10 in front of him died, so there was not much inheritance for them to benefit from. They weren't really poor, Ginny could still choose a dress sewn by a top dressmaker on special occasions, but she knew that the family had far more limitations than other families who had a wardrobe all made just for them.

‘’I wouldn’t like you to bring him,’’ The mother started, raising her gloved hand as if she already knew that Ginny was going to interrupt her. "It's always quite threatening when he stays behind you wherever you go, and maybe that's what limits gentlemen to ask you out." The younger redhead bit her cheek, swallowing the urge to say what prevented men from getting close to her was that she was seen as crazy. ‘‘But your father would never let us leave the property without him following, so… Yes, Mrs. Potter already knows that Mr. Figg will be with you.’’

‘‘I thought they didn’t throw parties anymore.’’ She commented quietly, smiling at a lady who was looking at her a little terrified, pulling her little daughter aside when Ginny passed.

Ah, London hospitality, always so pleasant.

‘’We all thought so.’’ Molly spread the fan in her hands, fanning herself because of the heat that seemed to be almost deadly. ‘‘But it looks like Mrs. Potter is tired of leaving the doors closed.’’

‘’I don’t remember visiting their house.’’

‘’You first came right when you were born, we introduced you to them. We have a picture of you and little Harry in the crib.'' Her mother sighed, stopping in front of the shop for hats, gloves and other accessories (not as chic as the one on the top street where jewelry was sold) and smiled at Ginny . ‘’Let's go in, I want to see if we can find some hats for you. Maybe there is a suitor who captures your heart during the Dueling Party.’’

[...]

‘'The Dueling Party …’’ Ginny repeated, rereading the news for the tenth time. ‘’Do you know what they say about this party?’’ She asked, looking over her shoulder at Thomas, standing behind her, while she was dining alone.

He denied. Ginny snorted, annoyed by the silence.

‘’Do you know where Mr. Figg is?’’ It was a lot more fun to have dinner with his company.

‘’No, Miss.’’

‘’Do you know when he comes back?’’

‘‘No, Miss.’’ Ginny turned to the untouched plate in front of her. Her father had spent the day outside, just like Henry, Ron had gone out with Fred somewhere, and her mother had already gone to bed, saying she was having a headache from the heat. She sighed, alone.

Thomas was married, not that he told her, she had seen the ring in his hand, and Ginny hoped he would be more talkative outside of work, or she would send her condolences to the poor woman who was married to a ghost.

The day had been quite boring, even after going out with her mother - which resulted in her buying a new hat - her father had sent a Patron with strict orders not to leave the house. Not even to fly. So Ginny spent the afternoon reading, knitting, and even pruning some flowers. All without saying much, since Thomas seemed to hate any human interaction.

At first, Henry was like that, too, quietly, until he seemed to feel sorry for Ginny's loneliness (and his own, since he was 24/7 by her side), and they started talking and she was even able to convince him sit at the table with her when no one was attending dinner.

But today, even after Thomas has been with her a few times, he still seemed to completely ignore the warmth and preferred to remain silent, leaving Ginny talking to herself.

When she thought about starting dinner - even though the chicken looked pale and the potatoes didn't look so appetizing - she heard footsteps toward the dining room, and before she could understand who was coming in, his voice boomed through the quiet room; ‘’Mr. Thomas, you can go to your home. Thank you very much.’’ Henry bowed to her a little. ‘’Good night, Miss Weasley, forgive me for being late.’’

‘’Good night, Mr. Figg.’’ ’Ginny had to bite her cheek to avoid the smile that wanted to break her face. The other Auror bowed to her and left the room, looking even relieved of an unknown tension that weighed on his shoulders. ‘’He doesn’t seem to like me very much.’’ She continued to look at the door through which the man had disappeared.

‘’If you want to know a secret,’’ Henry spoke softly, and approached her a little. ‘‘I don’t think he even likes himself.’’ Ginny laughed, her chest seeming to burn with that feeling of comfort that the man gave to her. It was always so simple to be around him, even when they were around several people and Henry was not allowed to give his real opinions (he would never give them, anyway, but Ginny knew that when it was just the two of them, he could be one little less judicious)

‘’May I know where you and my father have been?’’ She gave up on dinner, turning entirely to Henry and putting her arms on the back of the chair, resting her head there and staring at him curiously. ‘’It was a very boring day.’’

‘’Sorry to leave you, Miss.’’ Like a great gentleman he was, he nodded politely. ‘’But unfortunately I can’t tell you where we went. You’ll have to ask your father.’’

‘’And will he tell me?’’ She tried hopefully.

''I do not think so. Sorry.''

‘‘It’s not your fault.’’ She shrugged, only then really looking at him. Henry was still as he was yesterday; his slightly old and crooked glasses made his green eyes even bigger, Auror's clothes were so tightly buttoned and without any wrinkles that Ginny was embarrassed about her dress, which had a slightly worn hem. But unlike yesterday, she realized that his left hand was bandaged. ''What happened?''

‘’Ah… problems.’’ Henry shrugged. ‘’Another time we can discuss this, but I don’t think it is an issue for a lady who… still needs dinner.’’ He looked over her shoulder at her untouched plate - which now seemed to have gained color and life.

‘’Have you eaten yet?’’ Ginny turned around, slicing the chicken and smiling eagerly for him to sit with her.

''Already, Miss. Sorry.’’ Ginny could even hear his sad smile.

"But sit still, you know I hate to eat alone." She helped herself to the wine, having to bite her cheek again to keep from smiling and bursting into words she swallowed all day, when he sat in front of her. ‘’Can I ask you just one thing?’’

‘’For sure, Miss.’’ Henry seemed to want to disagree when Ginny spilled wine in his glass, but said nothing.

''Your bruised hand, the disappearance for the whole day, and the bloody story... has to do with me?'' She said, filling her mouth with a good forkful of chicken, peas and puree, staring at Henry with a pink color on his cheeks and he looked away from hers for a second.

‘’Yes, Miss.’’ He sighed, looking tense. ‘’But I’m not allowed to say more than that.’’ And then Henry pointed his finger at the walls around them, silent, and then at his own ear.

The walls have ears.

Ginny could not contain the reaction of bulging her eyes and looking at the large window beside them, which showed the entire backyard of the dark and lost yard in the darkness of the night, the trees making a lot of noise, as well as the wind whistling in the small openings of the glass and some old wood.

Henry was still staring at her, his green eyes almost seemed to enter her mind.

‘’What was I doing when I got the scar on my leg?’’ Ginny was alarmed, placing her hand on the wand at her waist, and the other holding the knife even stronger.

‘’You went up on the roof to save a cat, and when I thought was safe and tried to go up too, you slipped and cut your leg on a loose tile.’’ She blew out the air she seemed to be holding. ‘’I’m glad you remember to ask this, but it would have been too late,’’ Henry said, without taking his eyes off her. ‘’You have to do this when I arrive, not after inviting me to sit.’’ He warned her, his eyebrow dark and cut in half by the scar, rising and arching.

‘’I would know if you were an impostor.’’ For some reason she couldn’t take her eyes off him, feeling her chest burn and her hands tremble. And unlike any other time this happened, it was as if her magic was more controlled rather than totally insane inside Ginny.

‘’Miss didn’t seem so sure of that.’’ Henry didn’t seem bothered to look her in the eye either.

‘’I just doubted it. But I would know.’’ She didn’t know how, but something inside her said she would know.

‘’I’m happy that no imposter would take my place.’’ Henry smirked. ‘’I would also know how to differentiate you from an impostor.’’ And then he looked away at the window, and Ginny’s chest seemed to almost break without the pressure that was building there.

She even managed to fill her lungs with air.

| H. F |

‘’If you allow me to ask..’’ Ginny started, as they walked to the place where they were training duels. A place that Mr. Weasley had built after the clearing, where no one would get hurt or end up drawing much attention. It was not respectful for girls born in good families to know the art of dueling.

It was another day, nearly seven in the morning when Henry had to wake Ginny up so they could train the duel. After yesterday's threat, it would be necessary for her to be more than prepared if he could not defend her alone - but he was training even more so that it would not happen.

‘’Where do your scars come from? The one you have on your forehead. I mean.'' She pointed with her gloved hand at his forehead, almost touching where the lightning-like scar was marked on his skin.

‘’It’s too bloody a story for seven in the morning. And for a lady like you.’’ He kept up his education, already seeing the hut they haven’t visited in a few months, trying to ignore the feeling of failure due to having to make a woman like her, needing to learn the art of dueling. Dueling with an auror, to top it off, and not with figures he would transfigure, as he did for the boys who had been a tutor a few years ago.

No Auror learned to duel as Ginny Weasley needed to learn.

Women usually - if they learned to duel - did it with transfigured birds, wooden figures, and sometimes, if it was very necessary, the teacher would participate or call another woman who also trained, so that they would duel.

Ginny was dueling with an Auror who could do this even with his eyes closed, and who had already killed so many men that he almost needed a third hand to count how many.

''Well, if I'm asking for the story of your scar, I'm wise enough to know that I'm going to hear a bloody story.'' Henry opened the wooden hut door for her to enter first, and the smell of damp wood and dust entered their noses. Sunlight passed through broken planks and windows, and the lack of furniture (or what was left over and already broken) caused their voices to echo.

‘’They tried to kill me when I was a kid.’’ He didn’t have to look at her to see her eyes bulge, instead he walked to his usual place and started getting ready for them to start dueling.

‘’Who would do that ?! This is ... This is horrible!’’

‘’I know, Miss.’’ Henry never doubted that. ''But you would be astonished at how many crazy people there are.'' He saw her getting ready across the room, taking off the cloak, gloves and hat that her mother insisted she really wear, even inside the property.

‘’How did you get out alive?’’ Her brown eyes looked a little horrified and a little angry, as if she wanted to protect him. Henry wanted to laugh at the concern of a Viscount's daughter, at a poor man like him. In no dream or hallucination would a woman so above him look at him and speak as she did, always so friendly, seeming not even to notice how foolish she left him.

Henry was only above the bourgeois and, obviously, the miserable and squib (a class that his mother, unfortunately, belonged to), and by very little yet. If it weren't for sheer luck and being in the right place at the right time, Henry would never know what it was like to step inside the Auror Department.

‘‘My mom saved me.’’ He said, simply, but Ginny was still staring at him absurdly. ‘’In fact, she’s not my birth mother… My birth mother died at the hands of the Death Eaters. But she has looked after me since one of the Death Eaters tried to kill me, and here I am, safe and sound.’’

''I've never seen a spell that left a scar.'' She approached, eyes fixed on Henry's forehead, and her bare hand touched his skin, making him shiver and make him walk away in fright, as if her touch burned his face. ‘‘Sorry.’’ Ginny blushed furiously, still looking more scared, withdrawing her hand.

'’It's okay, Miss.’’ Henry swallowed, the wand in his hand shaking slightly, as if the magic wanted to explode out of it at all costs. ‘’And, I don’t know how I came out with just a scar. Maybe my magic saved me.’’

‘’Yeah… maybe it is.’’ Ginny now looked into his eyes, looking a little too serious, the brown eyes that Henry thought were so beautiful, seemed to carry a mountain of feelings that she would never let out. At least, not for him. ‘’Come on… let’s train.’’ And then she turned her back on him, the purple robes making her look like a witch from a Muggle fairy tale. Her hair tied tightly in the braid made her look a little more challenging than she usually was.

Henry knew he would never find a woman more beautiful than she was, and he cursed himself for thinking of her that way.

‘’We’re going to start.’’ He had to breathe deeply, before getting back in line and starting.

They bowed to each other in a sign of respect - if there was any respect in a duel - and then raised their wands.

Ginny and Henry had already dueled a few times, much more than a lady should, and he knew that she was really good and that if they accepted women at the Auror Academy, she would be even better than most the men who worked there. But whenever they dueled, Henry felt that electricity running in his wand, making it difficult to keep the spells for a long time, as if his wands refused to duel.

The magic was out of control - that's why Mr. Weasley had a hut built away from everyone and empty - and he could see the intensity of her magic almost greater than his. There always seemed to be something missing to make his strengths equal, and Henry thought that maybe it was the fact that he always feared for hurting her, while Ginny was instructed to use all her strength.

‘’Expelliarmus.’’ He whispered to himself

‘‘Estupor.’’ Ginny also spoke in an almost lower tone than Henry, and then the spells dueled, and the electricity almost looked like it was about to kill him. His arm was shaking, and the strength of the spells facing each other made the boards tremble and the rest of the entire furniture began to want to dismantle.

But for some reason Ginny lost her focus, and then Henry's magic won and her wand flew into his hands, just as her body stumbled over the furniture behind her.

He also lost his balance, and had it not been for the table well placed behind him, he would have been shamefully thrown back.

‘’I heard a noise.’’ She said, startled. ''I saw someone passing by, behind the house.'' And as if all the strength was suddenly recovered, Henry stood up and looked behind him, through the gaps in the wood where all you could see was the forest.

‘’Are you sure?’’ He asked, already casting a protective spell around them and throwing her wand at her, walking towards her and keeping her behind him - even though she insisted on going to his side.

''Yes. I saw someone. It wasn't a deer or anything. It was a person.’’ Henry’s magic trembled again, and just for safety, he cast three more protective spells around them, and grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the house. ''Don't let me stay behind, someone can hit me from behind and you won't even see.'' She complained when he once again put his body in front of hers, stamping her feet next to Henry, who was looking at the forest silent around them.

‘’Miss, you will stay in the circle of protection, while I will see if there is anyone, understood?’’ He stared at her, the taste of blood dominating the palate with the idea of ​​yet another crazy men trying to kill her.

''But I--''

‘’--Don’t make me petrify you. And I will. ’’ Henry didn’t even give her time to complain, throwing more protections around her, stepping out of the circle and preparing to grab another idiot who tried to get close to Ginny.

Yesterday morning Henry had found a miserable boy, doing the dirty work for wealthy people, bringing with him a cursed Ginny doll and a letter detailing exactly what they would do when they caught her. Henry didn't even like to remember the fury that surrounded him when he read what they intended to do. Not even over his corpse, would anyone touch her.

They were starting to be more creative now. It was the second cursed item they tried to get to Ginny.

Making sure she was still safe - and she looked furious in the circle Henry had created - he started walking around, looking at the sides of the house and a little way through the trees, but never losing sight of Ginny, who was so well protected that he could barely hear her voice.

But maybe Henry should have paid attention to what she was screaming, or trying to scream, because when a spell tried to hit him and ricocheted away, he knew it was she who was protecting him, and that they were with visitors. But he saw no one.

Turning to her, even more furious, Henry felt protected once again, seeing that Ginny was also surrounding him with protective spells, and he made the sign that she needed to leave. He told her to Apparate, but Ginny stayed there, denying it while Henry felt his protective sense scream inside him.

Better him than her.

He hid behind a tree, still feeling protected, and concentrating on the image of Ginny and her mesmerizing eyes, Henry struggled to enter her mind, as they had trained exhaustively. But it always seemed easier with her.

''Apparate out of here.. Now.''

He ordered, even though that part of the Forest was strangely quiet. Had they given up?

‘’Not without you.’’ She snapped in his mind, and Henry wished he could shake her shoulders.

‘’You are more important than me.Get out. They won’t see you, you’re protected.’’

''Not. Without. You.''

Henry took a deep breath and looked behind the tree, looking for whoever it was, wondering what he would do with that stubborn woman. There was no more noise, no spell shining, everything was silent. Which was even more dangerous.

They wouldn't come and just shoot Henry and leave without even fighting. But he was not staying to see.

And if he could bet, he knew it was more dangerous for them to stay there, waiting for them to come back. They had done this once, killed a deer as a threat, so Henry knew there must be a dead animal somewhere nearby.

He would send a patronus to Robards.

'’Apparate to our safe place. I will meet you there.’’ He spoke to her, still in mind.

‘’Do you promise to go?’’

‘’I’m right behind you, Miss.’’

[sparkie96]

It’s ridiculously late where I’m at and I need to sleep, but I feel like if I sleep and not ask this I’ll forget. 😱 But I have an idea a short story if you’d be willing to write it where Leon is giving brat energy to one of the guys (Chris, Dante or Vergil your choice I’m gain for any of them) and it end with smut or almost smut. The brat energy could even be at the wrong time right place etc. This has just been on my mind for a while.

It’s kind of short but it’s Halloweeny and has Leon in a Catwoman costume! I have this headcanon that will forever be one of my go-to’s where Leon is just a dummy when it comes to comics and other nerdy things, so when it comes to Halloween, Chris mentions wanting to do a superhero costume team-up with someone. Chris mentions Captain America or something like that.

Leon, who has a massive crush on Chris and was invited to the party, is like “Catwoman is a thing...and she’s got a nice costume and she’s with one of those hero guys so...I’ll surprise him with that! Maybe that’ll grab his attention!”He’s not very bright in that department, but he’s got the spirit...a shame the costume is riding up his ass and Chris teases him about it. 

Rated T-M for Language and Implied Sexy Times and Mild Nudity. _______________________________________________________ Why Leon decided this would have been a good idea, he didn’t know, but he hoped Redfield liked this...because he probably was never doing this again nor would this costume ever see the light of day after tonight. He had sent Chris ahead to the party, the older man offering to meet Leon at his apartment and drive there together, but Leon had declined the offer. He wanted to surprise the man, but he was having a bit of an issue squeezing into the skintight catsuit. Did he buy the wrong size or was it just the tight leather outfit messing with him? Should he forego the underwear and wear nothing underneath? ‘Cause his boxers felt like they were in the way...but was that really appropriate for the BSAA Halloween Party? Would anyone really care? 

Leon slipped his legs out of the tight material of the pant legs in frustration, throwing the costume back down on the bed before removing his boxers. He did glance at himself in the mirror, noticing that his belly was looking a bit soft due to the drinking and constantly buying take-out. Maybe his New Year’s Resolution would be to cut all that out? 

He scoffed at that and shook his head, “That’s assuming the DSO leaves me alone and the assholes knock it off with the bioterrorism…” 

He really did want to get better...but each year it was getting harder and harder and he was just...so tired. He was getting older and the world didn’t seem like it was getting better any time soon. And he really couldn’t deal with another bright-faced therapist patronizing him about looking at the brighter side of things. Or going to a doctor or psychologist that would prescribe him some bullshit medication from pharmaceutical companies that probably did dealings with the same people who created the viruses. 

But that was most likely his paranoia talking...and maybe he should just swallow his pride and seek help. Not everyone was untrustworthy…

“Jesus Christ, Kennedy…” Leon scolded himself, snatching the costume off of the bed, “Just shut up and put the fucking costume on so we can get drunk at a Halloween Party.” 

Although that was what he told himself, that wasn’t the reason he was going. Chris was there, and Leon may or may not have liked the man as more than just a friend. He had heard from Claire and Sherry that Chris wanted to do a “Superhero Themed” Costume, dressing as Captain America or something. So, Leon got it in his own head that if he dressed up as a superhero himself, maybe a love-interest to the character Chris was dressed as, Chris would notice him and maybe admire him. 

The only problem was; Leon knew jack shit about superheroes.

He didn’t read comic books or any of that, outside of the Batman or Superman Movie that came out once every five years...and had fallen asleep during that one movie with the pilot guy and the warrior princess...maybe Batman was in it? They were fighting some monster. Captain America wasn’t in it...or was he? Wasn’t it all the same? He had Googled it, but none of it made very much sense, so Leon honestly didn’t have a clue. He just went to the Halloween store, saw a costume that looked appealing and like a superhero, it had to have been because the Batman symbol was on it, and bought it. 

Leon gave a breath of relief as the costume fit now that he wasn’t wearing his boxers, the catsuit sliding on with ease. He managed to zip it up to under his collar bone, deciding against zipping it up all the way. He looked over his appearance in the mirror. 

He just hoped he didn’t look too ridiculous.  ______________________________________________________________

The party was pretty loud and Chris was having an okay time. He wasn’t too crazy about the party itself, but he supposed it was better than being out on an assignment and worrying about BOWs. It was a helluva lot better than working on paperwork or watching monitors all night, that was for damned sure. Though, he hated constantly shaking hands with people from the DSO and TerraSave.

He especially hated the selfies and shit, people acting as though he was some damn celebrity. He also hated the girls and even some guys as they shamelessly flirted with him and swooned over him “How Handsome” or “How Fitting” he was in his costume. It made him uncomfortable and had him looking out for Jill or Claire. Hell, even Parker or Sherry would have been better company. 

He wasn’t one for costumes and Halloween, but Claire had told him to stop being a brat and just pick something simple. Or something that he loved. Zombie costumes were banned, so he couldn’t just splatter paint on his uniform and call it a day, so he picked the Captain America costume instead. Captain America was one of his favorite superheroes growing up and the outfit was sort of like wearing his own uniform. 

That and the big ass shield that came with it came in handy when it came to grabby people.

He sighed as he listened to one of the agents from the DSO drone on and on about Wesker and other things Chris really didn’t feel like talking about, looking around at the party goers. To his surprise, or maybe not surprise, he hadn’t seen the Golden Boy of the DSO yet. It wasn’t officially Halloween, so Leon wouldn’t have been at the Presidential Trick or Treat thing they did in DC every year. And he knew Leon was coming because the agent texted him to decline the offer to ride together, saying that he would meet him here instead.

The tapping on his shoulder made him nearly hit the person with his shield in fright, but the person blocked the hit before it could land. He saw black gloves tipped with silver claws on the edges of the shield, leading up to black sleeves and a black cowl tipped with cat ears, goggles covering the person’s eyes. 

“Whoa, Big Guy!” The person chuckled, pulling up the goggles so they could sit on his head, “Easy there. Almost took my head off.” 

Chris’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head at the sound of the person’s voice, “Leon?!”

Leon S. Kennedy stood before him in a skintight black catsuit with a whip wrapped around his shoulder, a utility belt with a silver cat head as a buckle, black knee high boots, and even had the cowl with the cat ears AND a cat choker..and was he wearing eyeliner? The suit was unzipped slightly, his collarbones exposed. The gloves had silver claws on the fingertips, which were now drumming on the plastic shield.

Leon chuckled, “The one and only. I heard you needed a partner for your superhero costume, so...here I am.” 

Chris gave the agent a once over before giving a little chuckle, “So...you’re Catwoman?”

Leon frowned at that, “Yeah...do I look weird? Too much?” He looked down at himself, looking over his costume.

“No, no, it’s not that!” Chris insisted, “You look great! It’s just, uh, Catwoman isn’t Marvel.”

Leon raised a brow, “...huh? What the hell is Marvel?”

Chris chuckled, “It’s a comic book company that makes characters like Cap, Iron Man, Spider-Man, all of those. But Catwoman is actually Batman’s girl over at DC Comics.”

Leon wrinkled his nose and furrowed his brows, “What’s the difference?” 

Chris offered him an arm, which Leon accepted, “Well...there’s a lot of differences…” 

Chris continued on, the agent he had previously been stuck talking to not even noticing that Chris had left. Leon listened to the best of his ability, not really understanding what the hell Chris was talking about, but it was Chris, so he listened regardless. He did pick at the wedgie he was getting from the ridiculously tight outfit every time it rode up his ass.

“So, Batman isn’t an Avenger?” Leon asked as they picked up punch at the punch bowl, Chris grabbing a plate of snacks while Leon held their drinks, “That’s stupid.”

“How?” Chris asked, “He’s a member of the Justice League so he doesn’t need to be an Avenger.” 

“Now, what the fuck is the Justice League?” Leon asked, making Chris laugh, “What the hell is with all these teams? Why?” 

“Ask the guys and gals who made them, I don’t know.” Chris laughed, trading Leon a plate of food for his drink. 

“So, I wore this tight ass outfit that gives me a wedgie every five minutes for nothing?” Leon asked in mock annoyance, “Fucking nerds.” 

Chris shrugged, “If it’s any consolation, you pull it off really well.” 

“Thanks.” Leon said before sipping his punch, smacking his lips together and then making a face, looking down at the green liquid, “This is spiked.” 

Chris tasted his own drink, swishing it around in his mouth, “...I can barely taste that. How did you?” 

Leon merely raised a brow with a smile, sipping it some more as he and Chris went over to the recreational area where party furniture was set up. Leon received several compliments along the way, Leon thanking or nodding his head toward them in acknowledgement. What he didn’t appreciate was the drunk who slapped him on the ass on the way by, Leon spin-kicking him in the chest. 

The man was sent flying backward, the people there moving out of the way, looking between Leon and the guy in shock. Several party-goers murmured amongst themselves or were stunned silent. Leon blushed in partial embarrassment, but kept his angered glare, muttering curses under his breath as he apologized but then went back to Chris, who looked just as shocked as everyone else. 

“What?” Leon asked, “He slapped me on the ass!” 

Chris shook his head and thus shook himself out of his trance, “Uh...well, he did deserve it...but that…” 

“What?” Leon asked, brow raised. 

“That was kind of hot.” Chris admitted. 

Now it was Leon who was stunned silent, the blush of pink deepening to a shade of red, “...really?” 

Chris nodded, giving a bashful smile, “I’m not gonna lie...I’m both frightened...and aroused. I want to kiss you...but I don’t want you to…!” 

Chris was cut-off by Leon tossing his snacks and drink before moving forward into Chris’s space, wrapping his arms around the man’s neck and kissing him. Chris’s eyes widened in surprise, giving a momentary muffled protest, but then relaxed. He dropped his own snacks and drinks in favor of wrapping his arms around Leon’s waist, pulling him into a tight embrace as he reciprocated the kiss. 

They stayed like that for a moment before parting for air, Leon wearing a grin, “What about now?” 

Chris blinked as he breathed a deep breath, blushing himself, “...definitely aroused. Wanna...get out of here?” 

“I thought Catwoman was Batman’s girl?” 

“Fuck Batman. He can have Catwoman.” Chris chuckled, holding Leon’s hand and leading him out, “I got Catman.” 

Leon laughed as he followed Chris out, “Gonna give me a treat, Big Guy?” 

“Definitely ain’t giving you a trick.” 

“Can you do any tricks in the bedroom?” 

“It’s Trick OR Treat,” Chris chuckled as they went to his truck out in the parking lot, “Not Trick AND Treat.” 

“...Can I both?” Leon asked in a teasing tone. 

“Keep it up and you’re gonna get a spanking.” 

“That’s an extra treat.”  ______________________________________________________________

The next morning, Leon woke up with a sore ass and wearing only bits and pieces of his costume, still wearing the cat cowl and claw tipped gloves. He felt a heavy body on top of his own, Chris resting on his chest still wearing his costume minus his boots and gloves. Big, muscular arms were wrapped around Leon’s waist, hugging him tightly even in sleep. The man’s shield was on the floor next to his whip, next to the tattered remains of Leon’s costume. 

Leon looked around and groaned as the sunlight bled through the sheer curtains, but he actually didn’t feel annoyed. He was actually satisfied and felt...happy...and apparently in Chris’s apartment. Movement on top of him and the sound of Chris yawning indicated that the man was stirring from sleep, drawing Leon’s attention downward. 

“Morning, Cap.” Leon greeted softly as tired brown orbs looked up at him. 

Chris wore a sleepy smile, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, “Morning, Cat. Last night was…” 

“...last night was fun.” Leon chuckled in agreement, “Best tricks and treats I’ve ever gotten.” 

Chris nodded and chuckled in agreement as well as he carefully climbed off of Leon. He looked down at the floor, apologizing for ripping Leon’s costume. Leon shrugged as he sat up, stretching his aching limbs with a yawn of his own. He smiled, saying that the costume was probably gonna rip at some point during the party if they had stayed. Better Chris’s bedroom than in front of everyone at the BSAA. 

“But you can make up for it by making me breakfast.” Leon teased with a wink. 

Chris smiled and nodded once more, stripping out of his costume and into some lounge clothes, “Only if you’ll stay.” 

“Deal.” 

[wyofabdoms]

Don’t Say Anything

Characters: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Original Female Character

Summary: OC Natalie has been broken up with Frankie for going on three months. A fateful night out with the girls ends in an interesting encounter.

Rating: Smut, 18+ ONLY 

Warnings: Sex in a car, rough sex, angry sex, choking, implied/referenced drug use (if you look carefully), dry sex, angry kissing, post-breakup sex, angst

Word Count: 3988

Notes: This is part of what I hope will become a much longer story centered around Frankie and an original character, but this scene just would not leave my brain so I had to write it. I think it works as a standalone right now.This is my first time writing Frankie. He's so sweet but fierce in the movie, I tried to convey that. I love him so much, I just want to hug him around the tummy! Anyways...hope you enjoy and maybe I'll get my tail in gear and start fleshing this larger story out sometime.

Nat smiled wistfully as she watched Meredith twirl herself around the two good natured older bar patrons that had been wrested onto the makeshift dance floor by her tipsy friend.  Next to Natalie at the bar, a few other of her close friends from work and her social circle were chattering away, tittering over Meredith’s shenanigans, talking shop, or gossiping about someone named Kelly’s botched boob job.  Despite the cheerful energy and upbeat vibe coming from her friends, she felt like everything around her was moving slowly, like she was trying to run through water. 

She might have considered that she had been slipped something in her drink, but she had been feeling this way since she had started getting ready earlier this evening, before even a drop of alcohol had touched her lips. Though she didn’t want to think about it too much, she knew what the cause of the fogginess was:

She missed Frankie.  She missed him so much sometimes she couldn’t breathe.  

Meredith had called her earlier that day and insisted that she join her and the others to celebrate her belated birthday.  When Natalie had tried to protest, Meredith had called her on her self-imposed hermitage over the last three months, had told Natalie that she was worried about her.  That if things weren’t going to change between her and Frankie, then she at least needed to step back into the land of the living, even if just for a drink or two.  

“You need to socialize with someone other than your cats,” Meredith had squawked through the phone.  Nat had made a face at the implied “crazy cat lady” reference but, she had thought, perhaps Meredith was right.  During the week, she had summer school (which she had in previous years avoided like the plague but for which now she was grateful.)  She could beg off outings on school nights, claiming the pressure from working with the high-risk students left her exhausted each evening.  She had been skulking around the house most weekends; doing her level best to eradicate any and all memory of Frankie Morales. 

Having not been able to sleep in her own bed for several weeks after he had left, she had repainted and rearranged her bedroom.  Still, sometimes she would wake up crying, swearing that she could feel his weight in the bed next to her, hear his soft (or loud) snores in the darkness, smell their sweat and sex in the sheets.  Everything in her home seemed to possess an echo of him. She had eventually sold her couch for a new one after remembering the very first night he had visited her home, when their lovemaking commenced with a steamy make out session on the leather sofa.  Along with the new couch, she had also moved the rest of the furniture around.  Out of nowhere one evening making dinner, she remembered the way he had sat her up on the counter one particular Sunday morning, pulled a chair from the table and spent almost an hour with his head between her legs.  That particular memory had resulted in purchasing and installing new backsplash along with replacing the countertops and repainting the cupboard doors.  She had turned into a veritable DIY guru with the cosmetic changes to her home, but that chosen method of trying to forget Frankie was proving to be exhausting...and expensive.  Maybe, she had thought, it would do her some good to get out of the house for a night.  

She had reluctantly agreed to join Meredith and the girls, but had almost immediately regretted it.  The slogging through water feeling had begun as she had tried to make herself not look wretched and sleep deprived, then continued when she had left to pick up Meredith.  She had done her best to not be a downer, engaging in small talk with the other girls and even surprising herself by laughing a few times.  But now, as the night wore on and the alcohol loosened the women up more and more, Natalie just wanted to go home and crawl into bed.

That’s a lie. She thought as she sipped the watered down cocktail she had been nursing for a good thirty  minutes.  What I really want is to lay on the couch with Frankie and watch something stupid on Netflix and fall asleep with his arms around.  She felt tears start to sting her face and she shook herself.

This all felt a farce, trying to pretend like going out with girlfriends was even close to what it used to be back before Frankie; before she had let herself fall so deeply for that man.  She only noted with half an ear when one of the women in her group leaned across her and whispered, “Damn, incoming!!  Grey jacket, coming towards the bar...hellooooo handsome!”  Would she ever again be able (or even ever want) to look at another man with desire like that again?  Her girlfriends assured her she would; that it would just take time, but right now, she wasn’t so sure.

“Hey man, can we get another round for the back?”  The booming voice of who she could only assume was the grey-clad target in question was a familiar one and caused her to start.  She glanced over her shoulder.

“Benny?”  The eyes of the younger Miller brother lit up when he saw her and before she knew what was happening he had slid down the bar and wrapped her in a bear hug, pulling her from her seat.  

“Hooooly shit, Nat!  It’s good to see you.  How the hell are you?”  She chuckled at his enthusiasm; Benny’s attitude was infectious, she had always liked that about him.

“I’m…” She shrugged, not quite sure what to say.  She was sure that Ben and the others knew about her and Frankie.  What should she say?  Lie and say she was doing great?  Tell the truth and say she missed his friend?  Whatever she said, it would surely get back to Frankie; life with five brothers of her own had taught her that men talk almost as much as women.  “I’m…ok.  I guess.”  She gave him a small smile and another shrug, and avoided his eyes to keep herself from asking him how Frankie was doing?  She looked instead at the pitcher of beer and four clean glasses that the bartender had just placed on the bar in front of Benny.  Her eyes froze on the four drink receptacles and Benny followed her gaze.

“Uh….shit...yeah…” Benny looked almost embarrassed and jerked his head towards the back of the bar.  “We...uh...we’re all in the back...playing pool.”  She didn’t need to ask; the look on his face told her that Frankie was part of that “we”.  She nodded and took a deep breath.  Of course they were.  She remembered now that night when she had first “the guys”, after dinner they had come here and commandeered one of the back rooms for several raucous games of pool.  She remembered how much she had laughed that night, how it had made her heart sing to see Frankie so at ease with his friends, giving each other shit and swapping inside jokes.  

The memory made her eyes prick with tears and she stood up quickly. How could she have been so stupid? Why hadn’t she realized where Meredith had brought them?  She should have checked the parking lot for his truck.  Dammit!

“Hey, Nat, listen…” Benny made to stop her from moving away and she paused and looked at him, waiting.  He opened his mouth to say something, but then seemed to think otherwise and just shrugged.  “...Nothing. Never mind.  It just...it really sucks...what happened with you and ‘Fish’.  I know he…” again, he seemed to stop himself from saying too much.  “Well….it just sucks,” he finished lamely. She could feel the tears welling now, threatening to spill over.  She felt something like panic starting to rise in her chest at the realization that she was so close to Frankie after not seeing him for three months.  The last time she had seen his face it had been marred with pain...pain that she had put there.  His eyes had glittered with unshed tears and she remembered how his lower lip had trembled.  She couldn’t see him now...there was no way she could face him!  

She suddenly felt like the water she had been slogging through all night had suddenly risen above her head and she couldn’t breathe.  She yanked her jacket and purse off the back of her chair, scrambling to pay for her drink.  

“Yeah.  Thanks, Ben.  Me too...I mean, yeah.  It does suck.”  Her voice cracked.  “It was good to see you…” she let her voice trail off, hoping that maybe he could read her mind; that maybe he would know to tell Frankie how empty she felt without him, how much she regretting asking him to pack his things and leave, how she wished she could do a thousand things differently.  Instead, she just choked out “Take care, Benny.” And she whirled away before she lost the last shred of control of her emotions she still had.  She didn’t want to be THAT girl sobbing into a drink at the bar.

She quickly let Meredith know what was going on.

“Nooooo!” Meredith crowed, slinging an arm around Nat’s shoulder.  “He’s HERE?”  She squeaked, craning her neck to look around the room and nearly toppling both of them over.  Nat quickly untangled herself from her friend and made sure she was left in the capable care of one of the other sober women in the group.  Then she shoved her arms through the sleeves of her jacket and headed out the door.

The heavy, humid Florida air seemed to suffocate her, but he evening had brought a blessedly soft breeze along with the darkness and she was grateful for the air that cut the mugginess, though she could still see clouds of humidity suspended within the shining lights of the parking lot lights.  She shivered as she walked past the first row of vehicles and then the second, out of the relative comfort of the lights and further away from the music and ambient noise seeping out from the bar.  She had parked in the furthest row earlier because of all the cars that had filled the lot when she and Meredith had arrived, but since they had been there, the second and third rows had diminished and her car now sat in solitude, the next closest at least five parking spots away.

Approaching her vehicle, she was putting her finger on the unlock button when she heard something that stopped her dead.

“Natalie.”  

Her heart felt like it was being pulled up through her throat and she suddenly felt lightheaded.  That deep, gruff voice like warm honey.  She hadn’t imagined she would ever hear her name spoken by that voice ever again except, perhaps, to curse her.

She turned and there he was, charging towards her across the parking lot.  She wasn’t sure what she had expected to see as far as emotion from Frankie, but the anger on his face was the last thing she imagined on his usually kind face.  His brows were furrowed low over his eyes, his jaw clenched tightly, fists balled at his sides.  His eyes seemed impossibly hollow and overflowing with hostility all at the same time as his heavy stride kicked up gravel and crunched loudly as he strode towards her. 

“Frankie,” she said, her voice wavering a bit at the darkness in his face as he passed beneath the last parking lot light and continued his beeline towards her and her car.  “It’s ok, I’m leaving.  I didn’t know you were here...I should have figured.  I remembered too late you guys come here sometimes and I-”  

Before she could finish, the rest of the words along with her breath was ripped from her chest as he slammed her body back against the side of her car with his, his mouth on hers, pinning every single part of her between every single part of him and her car.  His lips were desperate, hungry; it was sloppy...she could taste beer on his tongue as he shoved it into her mouth without hesitation,seeking and prodding, attacking her own.  It was all so abrupt and so unlike her sweet, gentle Frankie that she did nothing for a moment.  Then she felt a moan slip from somewhere deep within her and climb her throat, seeping into his mouth as her arms flung themselves around his neck.  

He suddenly rutted his pelvis into hers, hard, eliciting another moan from her when she felt him stiff and solid beneath his jeans and now pressed against where she so desperately wanted him to be.  

“Open the door.”  He grunted against her mouth, never taking his lips away from hers, his tongue leaving its assault on her only as long as it took to form the words.  Her brain couldn’t focus on anything other than his kiss and it took her several long moments to even realize that he had spoken.  “Open the fucking door.”  Once again mouthed against her lips, this time it was a command, guttural and growled, like nothing she had ever heard from him or anyone else before.  Breathless, he ripped his tongue and lips away from her, but kept his hands gripped tightly on her hips, pressing his forehead to hers and closing his eyes as she fumbled with the key fob in her hand.  The car’s headlights blipped, giving a soft ca-chug as the locks disengaged and in the next instant, he had ripped her away from the car, yanked the backseat door open behind her, and shoved her backwards inside.

Her bottom landed awkwardly on the seat and she bumped her head on something as she moved to right herself.  She didn’t have time, though because Frankie was right behind her, looming over her and manhandling her further across the seat, hauling her legs into the car with one hand and slamming the door shut behind him with the other.  

It was dark in the backseat without the parking lot lights in this row, but she could make out his face, grim and determined as he yanked one of her legs up forcefully around his hip and knocked the other wide and into the footwell, widening her legs so that he could crouch between them.  She heard the distinct metallic clink of his belt buckle being undone, then almost immediately the pop of his button and soft shush of his zipper.  She could feel the heat radiating off of him and she saw again that dark gleam in his eyes as he shoved her shoulders down, made her lie back with her neck and head propped uncomfortably against the opposite passenger door.  

She wondered for a moment how much he had had to drink.  Was that why he was being so aggressive?  No, that couldn’t be it.  She had been with him before when he’d had too much to drink.  He got still and smiley and loved to put his face in her hair and sniff , or tangle their fingers together and make them dance on his stomach and chest while he sang a love song off key. 

This wasn’t her Frankie.

This wasn’t the Frankie that had called her his angel and begged her not to send him away the last time she had seen him.

This wasn’t the Frankie that was always so caring and gentle and thoughtful and slow.

This wasn’t the Frankie that always whispered to her that she was beautiful when he was inside of her, that told her how he was so lucky she had chosen him, that made sure she was always comfortable.

This Frankie?  This Frankie was something else entirely:

Dark.

Dangerous.

Angry.

And holy shit did she want him to fuck her.

His hands ripped at her skirt, pulling it high around her waist.  He didn’t stop to remove her panties, merely shoved them to the side as he pulled himself from his jeans.  He paused for just a moment, leaning over her, one hand next to her head on the seat holding himself up, the other hand gently tugging on his swollen cock.  She gazed up into his face trying to see his eyes, but he kept his head angled downward, seemingly mesmerized by the pump of his hand hovering over her heat.  She brought her hands up and twined them in his hair, uncovered now when his ball cap had been knocked from his head at some point.  She reveled for a split second in the feel of the silky brown locks between her fingers and thought briefly of those lazy Saturdays when they had laid in bed reading or napping or talking, his head resting on her stomach and her fingers carding through this same soft hair.  She felt him draw in a sharp breath at the touch and felt his body shudder.  But he still refused to look at her.  

She gathered more of his hair in her hands until she had two fist-fulls.  She slowly tightened her grip, then gave a firm but insistent tug with both hands.  His head finally lifted and she saw his eyes.  

The hurt that she remembered from the last time was still there, raw and real as ever.  Simmering below it was the darkness she had seen only a moment ago.  Covering all of it was a thin sheen of desire that colored everything else.  His eyes spoke to her clearly.  

He wanted her.  He knew that he shouldn’t want her.  But he was going to have her.

And it was not going to be gentle. Or sweet.  Or soft.

She nodded.  Yes.  Please.

Without warning, his eyes still locked with hers, he shoved himself inside of her with one hard push, fully seating himself.  It was abrasive and she hissed as his dry cock entered her core without any type of preparation.  She had only a split second to feel it though, before he yanked himself out, then back again, repeating the motion again and again.  Thankfully, as he thrust in and out of her, her own wetness spread, easing some of the pain from his initial entry.

There were no sweet, breathless pants of pet names, no cries of affirmation.  No calls to deities or lusty moans of pleasure.  There was simply the ragged sound of both of them breathing heavily in the small space, an occasional quiet gasp lighting the air.  The muffled sounds of his denim clad hips smacking into her naked thighs and ass drowned out most everything else.  His pace was manic and he rammed his hips into hers over and over so hard she imagined she would for sure have bruises on her hips tomorrow.  She squeezed her eyes shut more than once against the sharpness of his thrusts, trying not to cry out in pain.  It hurt a little, but the fact that it was Frankie made her want to sob with pleasure.  He pressed his forehead into the door behind her head, his breath puffing into her ear with each hard thrust and she snaked her arms up his back and shoulders the way she had always done, digging her nails forcefully into her skin along the way, making him hiss.  She whispered his name into his ear.

“Frankie…”

He yanked his head up, his eyes flashing with anger again and moved one hand from her hips to her throat.  He squeezed...hard, and she panicked for a moment.  This had never happened before.  She had never been afraid of him before but for an instant she was as she felt her windpipe close beneath his hand. She knew...she had never asked for details, but she knew...Frankie had killed people before, that he was capable...she had no doubt he could snap her neck right here in her own car if he wanted to.  But just as the thought entered her brain he released his grip, but kept his hand firmly wrapped around her throat.  He buried his face back next to her ear, growling and spitting out words between each powerful thrust of his hips.

“Shut up.  Don’t say my fucking name.  Don’t say anything.  Just shut up. Shut the fuck up.”

His voice was dark, but she heard the desperation lacing the edges.  

This was only for this moment.  This was nothing past the inside of this car.  

Frankie needed to feel her, needed to get off.  This frantic, off-limits, out of control act of violently fucking his ex in the backseat of her car was not something he wanted to be doing.  But the alternative-what he had chosen in the past, before Natalie-would ruin any slim chance there might be of ever getting this woman back if again.

He could have found someone else; a warm body.  It wouldn’t have been that hard...some willing woman in a bar on any given night.  But he couldn’t make that choice, either.  He couldn’t  find peace in someone that wasn’t her...because no one else could make him feel at peace and whole the way she could.  His angel.

So, rather than hold her close and tell her he loved her and worship her body and bring her to ecstasy over and over and over again, here he was treating her like a cheap fuck, pretending that she wasn’t the woman he loved; the woman that had broken his heart.  And he couldn’t pretend when she was breathing his name into his ear.

Without any words, without him having to explain any of that, Natalie understood.

He thrust into her once more...twice...three more times, each seemingly harder than the last and then he let out a cry filled with desperation and sadness as he spilled himself inside of her.  Tears welled in his eyes as he felt himself twitching inside of her, the familiar feeling of her walls cradling him nearly sending those tears pouring down his face.  He felt his stomach turn to water and his neck began to burn with shame.  He hated that he hadn’t taken time to get her off, that she had read his need and had willingly let him take her, allowed him to be selfish.

He hated himself.  

He pulled himself out of her slick heat, practically kicking the car door open and tucking himself back into his jeans as he stepped out of the vehicle.  He couldn’t look her in the eye.  Without a word, he turned and walked away from her car, crossing the parking lot as fast as he could, climbing into his beat up old pickup and peeling away.  Natalie still lay breathless in the backseat as she heard the roar of his truck engine, the door of her car still wide open, her legs splayed and her skirt hiked up to her waist, his cum dripping from inside of her and pooling onto the seat beneath her.

****

Later, when she pulled into her driveway, she realized she had no idea where her purse was.  She remembered she had had it in her hand when Frankie had kissed her.  Without looking, she reached behind the front passenger seat and grasped blindly into the footwells until her hand knocked against something solid. She grabbed it and realized immediately it wasn’t her purse, but she couldn’t identify it.  When she brought her hand forward to examine the item, she stopped breathing.

It was Frankie’s baseball cap.

Clutching it to her chest, she felt herself shatter into a million pieces. She caught a whiff of Frankie: his shampoo, his cologne, the sweat from his brow.

She buried her face into the cap and sobbed.

Read on Ao3

[nelllraiser]

BM and TJ: A Light Snack | Frank & Nell

TIMING: present. LOCATION: soul on the rocks. PARTIES: @frankmulloy and @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: frank gets more than he bargained for on his shift in the form of a bar fight that nell may or may not have started. he doesn’t get paid enough for this.

Soul on the Rocks wasn’t Nell’s usual haunt when it came to getting a drink. It had something of a reputation for housing seedy guys who didn’t know how to keep their hands to themselves. Not to mention Creepy-Joe who just stood in the corner as if it was his job. But the often questionable nature of its patrons also made it a decent place to pick up a few supernatural bounties from time to time, and it wasn’t exactly a secret that she was up to her ears in hospital bills that needed paying. So Soul on the Rocks would have to do. Regrettably, it didn’t seem that a new job was in the cards for her tonight, and it couldn’t have been all of fifteen minutes before some guy had already managed to piss her off with comments that weren’t welcome even after she threatened to break his fingers. Sure— she technically threw the first punch, decking him clean across the face before he could realize what was happening, but as far as she was concerned he’d been asking for it. It only took a quick breath for the other bar-goers to smell a fight brewing, and quite a few of them readily joined in, always eager to get the blood pumping. Soon enough there was a notable mass of writhing and punching humans, with Nell at the center of it trying to get a hit in wherever she could manage it. “It’s not my fault you’re an ugly bastard!” she yelled blindly at the latest person to try and kick her.

What godly force did Frank manage to piss off in his past life that every shift he’s on at the piss pot bar somehow ended up with somebody getting their teeth kicked in? Somehow, in the end, it was usually always Frank. Pheromones, he found were only of any use when the want to fuck is greater than the will to fight, Frank’s--what word did the shrink say to use? Not curse...ahh yes-- ability only served to fuel the former. Which was probably for the best. With great effort, Frank put away the glass he had been cleaning, and threw the towel over his shoulder--not unlike a willing fighting entering a ring. Only thing was, Frank wasn’t a willing fighter. He just wanted to do his job, get paid and go home. Frank wanted lots of things, like not wanting a stray elbow to ram into his side from an over-zealous spectator. “Move,” came after he had already physically moved that, and several other bodies from his way. An easy task when you towered over a lot of them. Frank had to move a lot of people in his job, it was probably one of the reasons why he was hired. At the centre of the commotion, he grabbed the closest body to him, taking care that it was skin on clothes and not the alternative. He pulled one back and pushed at the other, creating a separation that (hopefully) reason could exist in. That was Frank, he was reason. “Alright people, you wanna beat each other’s face in, you do it outside. Not in here. Let’s all be adults about this, no one needs to be kicked out.” Fuck, he was fucking tired.

Nell was in the zone, kicking and punching and dipping like she was back in the supernatural fighting Ring she’d been a part of no more than a few months ago. Before… helping to blow it up, of course. Ever so slowly, the crowd was seeming to thin, and she could hear a booming voice ring out over it, though the words were hard to actually make sense of. All of the sudden, a large, blond shadow moved over her, and it seemed that another had entered the fray. He was huge, but that didn’t stop her from sending him a challenging glare, a frown etched onto her lips as the adrenaline continued to pump through her veins, her heart thumping in unison with the simple manta of ‘fight’ that was running through her mind. She still couldn’t quite figure out what he was saying over the din of the scuffle, but decided it didn’t matter. If he wanted a fight, he could definitely have one. “Fuck off!” she yelled without thinking, and as his arm came close, she reflexively reached out to bite, like an angry puppy that was working off of instinct. Perhaps if she’d taken a single second longer to look at the man she would have recognized him as one of the bartenders, but thinking before action had never been her strong suit in situations like this.

Frank has been kicked, punched, headbutted, slashed, and in every other manner in which is violent. He’s yet to have been bitten however. His first thought shouldn’t have been (but it was) oh...this is different. His second thought was, “what the fuck?!” As he grabbed the girl by the scruff of her shirt and pried her teeth off his arm, a wet dotted half moon embedded into the skin as a reminder of his misjudgement. This proved to be another momentary relapse of attention that resulted in a fist across his jaw from her opposer. One that carried enough force behind it to jerk his head to one side. Now, Frank seldom got angry, and he wasn’t angry now, honestly! What he was, was loud, and stern, and the two were often mistaken for one another owed to his size. This was probably another reason why he was hired. “That’s enough.” One hand still firmly holding the scruff of the little she-wolf-- wisely keeping her at a distance where no teeth could attach itself onto any unsuspecting limbs-- the other grabbed the collar of her opposition’s shirt, as he hauled them both toward the door. With more force than he had intended, Frank shoved idiot number two out the door, watching with some small sympathy as he stumbled toward the curb and then onto his face. His jaw reminded him that he need not waste anyway. Now, to idiot number one. “You,” he said, “now I’m gonna let you go, but I swear to god if I so much as see a single tooth…” Gingerly, he does.

When she felt the hand tug her by the collar, some cursed cross between a snarl and a growl found itself rising from Nell, and she instantly started squirming, trying to get a hit on anything she could touch while trying to move enough that he would be forced to drop her. “Let go of me!” she yelled insistently as a warning to a man who was well over a foot taller than her, apparently uncaring of any possible consequences, and still not quite having the clarity in the haze of the fight to realize that this man worked here. She could feel her magic kicking in and pooling in her gut, asking for direction as fight soundly squashed flight into a pulp, running away having never been an option. Unleashing any magic probably wouldn’t be wise at the moment, though— and she tamped the rising feeling down as she was finally released, still refusing to stay still the entire time to the door and even for a moment after the man’s hand had left her collar. “Who the hell do you think-” Nell had been in the middle of asking who exactly this man thought he was, but she finally got a good enough look at him to recognize him as one of the people that had been on the other side of the bar, slinging out drinks. “Oh…” she said rather ungracefully as realization dawned on her. He’d been trying to break up the fight, hadn’t he? “He started it!” she insisted with a wild point towards the man that had just been tossed to the curb. In another moment her arms crossed over her chest, and the rampant aggressive nature that had been on display before ever so slowly began to chip away. Oh shit. She’d bit him, hadn’t she? And not in the way most men liked. “If you see a single tooth you’ll what?” It was less of a genuine challenge and more of a beginning of trying to salvage things.

That was a good point. What was he going to do? The answer was one he knew immediately and so did pride, and it halted the reply on his tongue. Nothing, Frank wasn’t going to do anything. What were the alternatives? Throw her to the curb? Swing a wild fist at her face? Anger had lost its hold on the girl and he could slowly see reason and comprehension formulating behind her eyes as she was no longer blinded by its red lens. Any suggestion of further violence would be ill advised, and while Frank wasn’t the smartest guy around, he wasn’t stupid. In any case, Frank never had much of an appetite for violence. He was always the type more ready to take the punch than to cash it out. Kindness, he thought, was a more valuable currency, although it wasn’t as if he readily gave those out either. “I’m going to call you a cab and send you home.” Somehow that sounded more menacing in his head. He was already pulling out his phone and punching in a series of numbers. One of them was getting a cab, and it was up to her whether she’d be joining the sorry idiot that was slowly picking himself up from the side of the curb. “Sit down, and shut up.” His previous display of bravery significantly injured, he sat down without a word. Good. Frank put his phone to his ear, the other hand absently nursing the bite mark on his forearm. “And by the way, ‘he started it’? What are you, seven? Actually...did anyone ask for your ID— hello? Hi, yeah, I need a cab at Soul...yeah, Soul for the Rocks...For one,” he turned and gave her a pointed look, “or maybe two, we’ll see when you get here.”

Nell’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as his claim of calling a cab was revealed, as if she were scrutinizing it for any possible bluffs. But she didn’t have a chance to comment on it before his phone was already out, and apparently he hadn’t been joking about getting at least one cab. As the other man in question plopped down, Nell didn’t let up in glaring daggers at him, finding that entertaining enough to preoccupy her for the moment being. Her middle finger was itching to come up and flip off the douchebag, but she kept her arms firmly folded where they’d settled, trying her best not to be threatened with a cab once more. But she didn’t care much for the bartender’s phone call as he jibed at her. “I’m not seven! It’s true! He’s the one who was being a dick!” It probably didn’t help that her foot stomped instantly against the ground with the words, not unlike someone who was throwing a tantrum. “My ID?” The exasperation and indignance that entered her voice was akin to what it might have been if someone asked if she liked mimes. The most horrible of offenses. “I’m twenty-three! And it’s for one!” she insisted without hesitation, standing on tiptoe to try and get as close to the phone the giant man was holding to tell the cab driver that she’d be going nowhere in a taxi. Then she addressed the man grasping the cell phone directly. “Besides- I have my bike here!” Her thumb jabbed towards the spot where she’d parked her motorcycle. “And I didn’t even really drink.” She’d been looking for work, so getting drunk wouldn’t have been smart.

She actually stomped her foot. “Yeah, now I’m convinced.” Frank was tall, she was not, but keeping her away from his phone proved to be an uphill battle as she tried to speak into the receiver, threatening the space that he had carefully crafted between them, with each new attempt. He spared a fleeting glance in the general direction of her thumb, hoping to appease any further attempts. “Alright, alright, will you please just-- hello?...yeah, yes, I’m still here...excellent...thank you. I’ll be waiting outside. Thank you.” Now that that was out of the way. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Are you incapable of exercising some form of restraint? Oh and if someone is being a dick, you call security to kick them out, not start a brawl in the middle of a crowded bar.” Or bite people when they’re trying to help you! The latter never made it past pride’s careful guard, though the thought was betrayed in the form of his hand returning to nurse the tender spot. The cab pulled up not much sooner, and to keep himself from saying or doing anything else that might betray his thoughts, he turned his back to the woman and proceeded to stuff idiot number one into the back of the cab. Producing a handful of notes from his own back pocket, he deposited them into the driver’s window. “Just him. Make sure he gets into his front door please, thanks.” There was a pause as the driver muttered something through the window, Frank turned his head back to where the woman was standing. He seemed to have to think about his reply, but at last decided, “no, just this one. Thanks man.”

Nell’s frown only deepened as Frank’s sarcasm pervaded the air, her hands quickly going back into a stubborn cross over her middle. “I’m just saying,” she grumbled, not actually entirely finishing the thought aloud. This time she waited not quite patiently, but in a manner that was much more subdued than before as he finished up his call. Unfortunately, her offense was quick to return as soon as he started asking questions again. “What’s wrong with me? Why don’t you ask what’s wrong with him?” Her open palm jerked roughly towards the man still sitting desolate on the curb. “Why am I the one being yelled at for restraint when he’s the one who doesn’t keep his hands to himself! He could learn some restraint!” Her features quickly returned to something akin of an angry pout before she continued on, raising her nose stuffily into the air. “Security looked...busy.” It was a bald-faced lie. She hadn’t even bothered to look at security. Nell watched as his hand found the place she’d bitten him, and again her exterior lost a few of its prickles. “Did I...bite you hard or-?” An inkling of an apology was creeping through her voice. After all, even if the guy in front of her was making her bristle, he probably didn’t deserve to be bitten in a fight. “Is it bleeding?” she asked, trying to get a closer look. As the taxi pulled away without her in it, Nell scowled after it— as if she could burn a hole through the seat where the man she’d been fighting was sitting. “So you work here.” It wasn’t so much a question, and she wasn’t sure where she was going with it, but it was something to say that was neutral rather than combative.

“I’m not yelling at you!” Frank was in fact yelling at her. He realised this too and softened his tone to one more closely related to a sort of...diplomatic reprimand. “I’m not yelling at you, I’m just saying, there are better alternatives to fixing a problem than by punching it. And that was a test by the way. You failed. The security; that’s me. I wasn’t that busy.” At her remark, Frank’s eyes fell on his forearm, as if noticing the degree of injury for the first time. The dark spots of blood rising to colour in the indents left by the set of teeth; just sitting beneath the surface of the skin as no puncture was actually made, but still carrying with it the threat of spilling over if there was. A bigger ring surrounded the mark, red and angry, but would surely yellow and then disappear over time. Probably by tomorrow morning at the latest. Now that he was taking the time to examine his injury, he had almost forgotten that he was punched, and now that the adrenaline was no longer needed, the pain in his jaw made itself known. Frank pulled down the sleeve of his jacket. Stepping back before she could step forward. “No, it’s not. Don’t worry about it.” The change in her demeanour was welcomed progress, although this wasn’t saying a great deal considering how ready she was to, quite literally, rip into him before. “Well, I’m not here for the friendly crowd.” There was a pause as a sort of peace had settled between them, and Frank was not oblivious to how fragile it was and was even more careful not to break it. “Look, are you okay?” 

Nell was all too ready with a rebuttal to his claims of not yelling, but before she could get it out he rectified that particular situation, and she bit her words off before they could manage to surface. “I don’t know- punching always seems to work pretty well for me. And I tried to tell him to fuck off. He didn’t seem interested in doing that.” There was a flicker of humor to her voice this time, her temper once again fading into something less volatile for a moment. “Okay, well that’s not fair. You can’t give me a test without telling me. What kind of teacher are you, anyway? But you’re security?” she asked curiously, looking him over and ignoring the fact that she’d been caught in a lie. Again the disapproving curve of her mouth only dipped deeper as he tugged down his jacket. “If it’s not bleeding, then let me see,” she said— her tone firm once again, but filled with less hostility and more determination. She wasn’t entirely sure what to make of him stepping away. Maybe he just liked personal space? Or maybe he was worried she’d bite him again if he said something to anger her which was...fair enough. “Are you saying I’m not friendly?” she continued along the vein of a truce they’d managed to find, her fickleness in her emotions knowing no end. Confusion was quick to grip her as she blinked at his question, her knee-jerk answer of, “What?” probably too much of a give away as to how unexpected his query had been. “I mean- I’m fine,” she tentatively replied, not particularly used to people she’d bitten asking how she was doing. If any new bruises did arise from the scuffle tonight, she’d be hard-pressed to identify them with the steady collection of purple and yellow spots she generally sported from her line of work. “What about you? You’re not dying or something, are you?”

Alas, what more could Frank say to that? It wasn’t as if Soul was known to attract the upstanding citizen type. For most of its patrons, their problems could not be solved any other way so they found comfort instead at the bottom of a shot glass or a beer bottle, or a well placed fist on an unsuspecting face (and then there’s Joe, but he’s another species entirely). All Frank could really do was make sure nobody kills each other in the process; and fights never last too long when Frank’s on shift, which means he must be doing something right. “Well I’m not a teacher, I’m the deterrent.”  Frank kept his arm firmly by his side, one foot behind him in a strategic shift of weight should she prove to be as persistent as he suspected. It looked bad, yes, but that was now, and there was nothing more awkward than having someone witness an ugly injury, and the next day to find no trace of the previous night’s violence. He’d rather avoid that conversation if he could help it. “I’m saying you need to exercise restraint, and take people at their word when they say they’re fine and drop it.” However, a great deal could be said of one’s character, and their history, when their first response to ‘are you okay?’ was ‘what?’, and her reaction was not lost on him. But for the sake of keeping peace, and with no visible injury to invoke any immediate concern, he did not press. “Trust me, as long as my head stays on my shoulder, I don’t die easy.” He thought that he said it with enough casual grace to warrant no great suspicion. “I’ve worked here long enough to say with some confidence that tonight was not the worst night I’ve had. Come on Bitey McFierce, if you promise not to punch anyone else tonight I’ll pour you a beer.”

“Well if you’re not a teacher, then why are you giving tests?” Nell quipped back in the same moment the man had finished his sentence. It seemed she was still making the shift from aggressor to casual nuisance. Again, she took him in all at once, giving him a look over before saying to the tree of a man, “I bet I could take you.” It was still meant to have a home in that in between place they’d seemed to have found themselves, testing the waters of how far she could take her teasing. But then she was giving him a hearty eyeroll as he continued to preach the virtues of restraint. As for whether or not she’d drop the subject of a potential injury— she carefully mulled the thought over, deciding just how far she wanted to push. She was pretty sure she hadn’t tasted blood, and if he wanted to be some macho man and pretend he was fine when he wasn’t...it wouldn’t be her funeral. On the other hand, pure stubbornness was egging her on. “You’re bossy.” Was all she settled on after chewing the inside of her cheek. “But I should warn you I have rabies.” That was transmitted by biting, wasn’t it? She wasn’t entirely sure. But what a strange way to phrase that he didn’t go down easy. As long as his head was on his shoulders? Maybe she just wasn’t familiar with the saying, but it also made her think of how the undead were rather indestructible unless they lost their noggins. His casual delivery of the words were enough to make her brush past it, though. “Bitey McFierce?” she echoed with a cross between a scoff and an amused snort. “That’s the best you can do? I don’t know why I expected better of you, but I did....Turkey Jerky.” It was the first thing that had come to mind when she thought of things that might be hard to chew. “No promises,” she answered without thought, both being raised in White Crest and her general everyday experiences with fae nearly replying for her. Still- it was light enough to come across as still being her impish self, and Nell had intended it as such a thing. “And my name is Nell.” This didn’t seem like a moment to explain that it was short for Penelope. “Maybe you can come up with something half decent with that.”

It takes everything in Frank to bite back a retort. It would only serve to prolong this nonsense back and forth that she’s somehow trapped them in, and perhaps that was exactly what she wanted. If you can’t him, annoy them to surrender, which is why he was determined to give her precisely the opposite. “I am sure that you can,” he said, and the words, oddly, did not hold even a shadow of sarcasm. Of course, beating someone was easy when they weren’t willing to fight back, although a gut instinct told him that she was the type to enjoy a challenge or not at all. Or maybe she just enjoyed winning, who knows? He’s been wrong about people before. Although it seemed he was at least correct in her persistence, the woman would not shut up. “I am.” And he was. “Consider me warned.” He said, bearing the brunt of her nuisance with infinite patience. Although a weathered wall was not without its cracks, and the occasional jibe could, and did, muscle its way through every now and then, usually when he least expected it. “Turkey Jerky?” What the fuck did that mean? He can’t imagine a single characteristic about him, or his behaviour that might even resemble a jerky. Was he a jerk? He thought himself perfectly restrained, all things considered, her on the other hand... “Right. That’s reassuring.” Frank scratched his arm. His words were accompanied by a wary look and delivered with no great confidence. At least when he returned to his usual spot behind the bar, he knew who to keep an eye on. Nell, that can’t be a real name. A nickname, he decided. Yet deep in the pit of his stomach he felt an itch: what was her real name? This wasn’t Frank. The impulse was biological, totemic, ancient, and it made him uneasy. He scratched the back of his neck. “Frank. And I’ll let you know as soon as you come up with something that makes more sense than turkey jerky.” 

[iamthelostsundrop]

Apologize

ALRIGHT FUCKERS IM GONNA WARN YOU RIGHT HERE THIS PROBABLY WILL BE TRIGGERING TO SOME!!! Avoid if you are triggered by anything related o Abusive Relationships, Abuse, Trauma involving being harmed by someone else, Domestic Abuse, Domestic Violence or ANYTHING RELATED YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!! THIS DOES NOT HAVE A HAPPY ENDING

This was a cola with my very best friend who does not have a tumblr, we will call her Lady Of Slytherin. Thank you Lady Sly for helping me relate this twisted masterpiece.

Dabi X Reader 2400+ words enjoy our filth

🔥☄️🔥☄️🔥☄️🔥☄️🔥☄️🔥☄️🔥☄️🔥☄️🔥☄️🔥☄️🔥☄️🔥☄️🔥☄️🔥☄️🔥

You’d been through so much together. Every time he fucked up, you gave him another chance. You fell for the puppy dog eyes. Those blue eyes that you got lost in every time. You couldn’t say no to him. But this time, Dabi had gone too far, and you didn’t think you could come back from this.

You met him at a bar of all places. A skeevy bar your best friend Himiko convinced you was the best place to meet guys after your last break up.

“I promise, (Y/N), this place is awesome and I promise you’ll find someone.”

You rolled your eyes at her but continued to let yourself be dragged towards the alleyway and the sign lighting up the dark with neon letters that spelled BAR. “Yeah. Right”

The place was creepy to say the least; no more than five people in the whole place. Of course this would be the place your friend dragged you to. She was always finding these backwoods, out of the way places to go.

You instantly went up to the bartender and ordered a strong drink. You sensed you were going to need it. Toga was already off in the corner talking to some guy with blue hair whose face you couldn’t see. He seemed agitated and kept gesturing back to you. You hurried your head in your drink and quickly ordered another. You weren’t getting a very good feeling, but you still took the moment to look around at the other patrons. There was Himiko and the blue haired young man in the corner. A tall man in a top hat and tailcoat like he was going to perform at the circus later. One man seemed to have some sort of animal like quirk, his body resembled a lizard. The bartender himself seemed to be made of blue black swirling mist. Finally the last patron was a young man, about your age, with patchwork skin. You looked over at him with interest, he was cute for sure. Maybe this bar wasn’t such a bad idea.

Toga skipped back over to you with a mixed look on her face. “So. I may have gotten into a little trouble for bringing you here but that’s okay. Boss said you could stay since you’re quirkless.”

You gave her a perturbed look, but before you could speak she grabbed your arm and dragged you to each bar patron and introduced you. They all seemed friendly enough, Spinner and Mr. Compress anyway. Tomura didn’t seem too excited about you being there, like you’d intruded on some secret boys club. He kept his face hidden from you, but you didn’t mind so much. You were a guest in their bar, you’d be respectful of their wishes. Toga had explained this was the meeting place of their secret club. You were fine with that. When she pulled you back to the bar, you noticed the handsome man again. “Whose that?”

Toga looked over to the man and rolled her eyes. “That’s Dabi. Tall, dark and brooding.” A dark and excited look passed her face “Just your type” Before you could speak, she had you by the arm and dragged you over to him. “Dabi. Meet my very bestest friend ever, (Y/N)” she said, unceremoniously pushing you into the chair next to him.

You stared daggers into your best friend, who of course ignored you. “Sorry. Toga is a bit much” The young man gave you a curt smirk, looking you up and down with those piercing turquoise eyes. “Don’t, worry about it. I’m used to her brand of fun. Nice to meet you.” He gave you a dashing smile, and you melted. “Kuroguri, why don’t you get the lady another drink”

From that moment on, Dabi had you eating out of the palm of his hand. You became a regular at the bar the League inhabited. They all knew you by name, and even Shiggy got used to you being around. Once he and the others knew you wouldn’t turn them in to the heroes they all relaxed a little bit.

Toga was over the moon when you started hanging around more, and she teased you endlessly after that first night when you let Dabi escort you home. “I know you would like him! I am the best matchmaker in the whole world.”

You didn’t want to admit it, but she was right. You and Dabi got along swimmingly, which you would have never expected given his bad boy persona. You had always been the goody goody girl. Straight A’s, Perfect attendance, all of that. That changed when you started seeing him. He'd show up at your window while you were getting ready for class, comment on your schoolgirl skirt and inevitably sweet talk you into bed and convince you to spend the day with him. When he couldn’t convince you, you spent your day in class daydreaming about the night before. You spent all of your free time at the bar with the league. You’d even gone so far as to help them out with menial tasks such as fetching specific things they needed for their plans Ana’s even doing a little bit of spying on the UA kids.

You tried your best to please him and keep Dabi happy, but it wasn’t always easy. He was moody sometimes and you didn’t do what he wanted quick enough and he got annoyed and cranky. If he was having a particularly bad day, he’d take it out on you. Depending on how bad it was, he would yell, push you around, squeeze your arm or wrist so hard that you bruised or got a sprain. It always seemed worse whenever you were watching TV together and Endeavor appeared. A severely sprained and bruised wrist taught you very quickly not to ask Dabi why the sight of the No. 2 hero made him so mad and you never brought up the man around him either.

Despite all this, Dabi had never seriously hurt you. After every incident, he had always apologized and it led to fantastic makeup sex. You didn’t mind, you loved him. He made you feel so very much alive. He made you feel like the most beautiful creature on earth whenever he’d talk to you in that sweet little way that he only reserved for you, kiss you until your knees buckled in bliss. You would do anything for him, set the whole world on fire and bring him Endevor’s head to see that smile that Dabi would give only you; you weren’t stupid enough to take on the flaming bastard, you knew very well that it would end badly for you and lead the heroes back to the League. Even if you were caught and tortured, you’d never betray the man you loved and your new friends.

But then came that day that changed everything forever. It had been an honest mistake. Just because you were helping the League, didn’t mean you were completely heartless. So when you saw a man in a wheelchair at the nearby market struggling to reach some things, you immediately went over to help. He was very good looking, but had nothing on Dabi of course. This guy had the wholesome good guy act going on, so it wasn’t a turn on for you

He thanked you profusely, looking rather sheepish over the fact that he needed help with doing some basic tasks. He admitted that while the accident that put him in the wheelchair had happened some time ago, he was still trying to adjust to doing things differently.

You smiled, amused by his bashful expression and offered to help him around the store. He agreed and you two were off. As you helped him shop, you learned he had a brother in high school and you could hear the pride in his voice as he talked about his little brother taking up the family mantle. It made you wish your own family had talked about you that way. Once finished, you helped him secure his bags and walked him out of the store, bidding him farewell as he wheeled away.

But little did you know that someone had seen the entire interaction as teal eyes ablaze with fury watched you from the alley as you walked towards the bar. After everything he had done for you, after sticking up for you, after convincing the others to let you stay, after all the love he had given you, this was how you repaid him? Forget about the League punishing you for this serious transgression, he’d punish you himself and he’d make sure you wouldn’t forget it.

He hit you when you least expected it. You had said goodbye to the man in the chair and made your way to the bar, taking a shortcut you knew would get you to your boyfriend quicker when you were hit from behind, hard. You were knocked off your feet and you skidded on the unforgiving ground a few feet away from where you’d been standing. Head pounding, you turned to see your attacker, surprise in your eyes slowly turning to terror. You’d never seen Dabi this angry before. His eyes seemed to glow with fury.

“Babe, what-“ He cut you off with a blow of cold fire directly to your left, destroying a trash bin.

“Don’t you babe me you treacherous slut” he seethed as he walked closer to you.

You scooted away from him, purse forgotten on the ground. You were so confused. What was he talking about?

“You think you can just go around flirting with heroes whenever you want?”

What? Flirting? Wait.

“You mean me helping that man back there? He was in a wheelchair and he was struggling with his things. I’m not a hero but I’m not heartless, Dabi. I wasn’t going to stand by and wat-“ The ground next to you exploded in blue flames as he cut you off again.

“You’re not listening here babe,” The patchwork villain kneeled down and put his face next to yours and a tight hand on your upper arm. “You’re my girl. That means,” the cold heat creeped up to your shoulder and down to your fingertips as he ignited your arm. Before you could scream, his free hand covered your mouth. “That you’re mine. You do as I say. You go where I tell you to go. You talk to who I say you can talk to. No one else. Listen babe. You don't have friends anymore. Just me. You’d have nothing without me. I took such good care of you, loved you when no one else would. And then you go and throw it all back in my face by acting like a worthless whore for some paralyzed ex hero who probably can’t even get it up anymore. Got anything to say in your defense, fucking whore?”

You were speechless. What the hell was he talking about? You stumbled over your words before you finally said something.

“I’m sorry. I didn't know. I thought I was being nice. It won't happen again. I promise!” Tears were pouring down your face as you silently begged for him to let you go, to turn back into the man you knew and loved, not this terrifying stranger before you.

“You’re damn fucking right it won’t happen again, bitch. Because I’m going to give you a little reminder of just who you belong to, one you won’t ever forget. Then no one but me will ever want you!” An evil grin overtook his face, distorting his face, the flames making him look like a demon from hell sent to torment you.

Searing pain laced through your arm as the scent of burning flesh filled the air, the sound of sizzling flesh was drowned out by your blood curdling screams of agony. You writhed and wordlessly begged for release, but Dabi refused to let go, squeezing his hand even tighter until you felt your arm snap and the flames delve deeper than your skin, searing the muscle and tissues beneath.

When he finally let go, you fell back against the ground, hardly registering anything else but the overwhelming pain that flared with every breath she took. She dared to look at her arm and what she saw made her nearly vomit. Her arm had been burnt nearly black, blistering blood oozed from the handprint on her arm. He had branded her, like she was some sort of cattle. If infection didn’t kill her first, she’d possibly have to remove her arm, as he had basically reduced part of her arm to nothing more than a charred piece of meat. She couldn’t even feel anything below her arm anymore. She stared up at him in disbelief through her tears. This wasn’t her Dabi, she didn’t know this animal that had hurt her so badly. She let out a broken sob, attempting to scramble away.

That one pitiful sound seemed to snap Dabi from his fit of madness as he stared down at you with wide eyes. He saw what he had done and felt sick. He had always sworn to never be like Endeavor and yet, he was no better than the flaming bastard. He reached a hand towards you, trying to pull you into his arms. “Y/n… I’m so sorry… I… I didn’t mean it… I didn’t mean to hurt you like that…. Come on, we’ll go inside and get you fixed up, everything will be alright. I’m so sorry… I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

You stared at him in a haze of pain. Forgive him? Did he honestly think that you were going to forgive him for this? He burned your fucking arm! You’d probably have to get your arm amputated if you even wanted to survive this. He swore to you so many times that he would never hurt you again. You should leave, get as far away as humanly possible. But… As you stared into his remorseful and terrified face, you began to doubt yourself. Could you really leave him now? Now after everything he had done for you? He loved you right? You loved him still, it was just an accident. Unable to speak, you merely nodded, giving him your silent forgiveness. You whimpered in pain as Dabi carefully scooped you up and carried you back to the bar. The pain was worth it, he was worth it.

Why? Because you loved him.