#i apologise if this comes across as blunt— but at this point; i’m sick and tired…

[byhees]

important

i’m not even going to lie— i’m pissed off, and it takes a lot for me to get angry.. once again, user archlstarvlle on tiktok has plagiarised another work of mine, making the total of plagiarised writings five. i’m actually so, so close to deleting my entire account.. that’s how angry i am.

to user archlstarvlle; i don’t suggest you testing my kindness— i’m typically very patient when it comes to these things, but i believe that five strikes are far too much

please do boost this post, or any of the other plagiarism notices out there, and report this account… thank you— thank you to the anon in my inbox who continually updates me on such plagiarism issues, you’ve been a life-saver, truly

link to the original post

tagging . . . some mutuals @okwonyo @okwons @wvnrqs @isoobie @yenqa . . . thank you! ♡

[buckyreaderrecs]

So Far Away: Chapter 2/?

Summary:  Bucky Barnes doing what he does best. Saving. Loving. In this particular case, the object of both is you. (Bonus: Bucky Barnes happy, healing, doing really well!) Chapter 1. 

Chapter 2:  He's saved you before. Now he's gotta find you and bring you home.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/reader Characters: Bucky Barnes Additional tags: mostly canon compliant (Infinity War and Endgame didn’t happen, Stark Tower still exists),  possible future smut (who knows, not me), she/her pronouns, more tags/characters to be added with future chapters, hero Bucky Barnes, canon typical violence, warzone/disaster zone setting Warnings: possible triggers for anxiety, PTSD, grief

Tag list (open): @darlingtholland @browngirlmagic @lookalivefrosty

So Far Away Chapter 2/?

Bucky couldn't visit you in the hospital, even if he had wanted to; there was only space for the critically injured in the still-standing healthcare facilities. Others were transported elsewhere in the country. Anywhere that could take people did. That just left the people like you - hurt but able to walk, i.e. not dying.

Along with the thousands of other displaced city dwellers, you were assigned a fold out cot in a repurposed rec centre. It wasn't until you were sitting on it, with only a government issues sleeping bag and water bottle to call your own did reality set in. You'd lost your home. There was no way of contacting finding friends or family. With no connections outside of DC, you could only put your name on the 'registered: to be relocated' list and wait. Eventually you'd be seen by a caseworker, or so you were told.

The rec centre was a battle within itself. Three nights in and it was almost as bad as the moments before Bucky found you. There were crying and hopelessness, and a sense that everything important was happening elsewhere, that all your fates were out of your hands. You were going mad.

…

On the fourth morning, you were sitting on your cot with the girl who'd been sleeping next to you. While her mother went in search of anything resembling warm coffee, you braided the girl's hair. That's when you heard your name.

Behind you stood a man in a crisp black suit. The dark sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose were unnecessary in the rec centre. "Y/N?" he repeated when you turned to look at him.

As you stood, you nodded. "Yes,"

"Please follow me,"

"Wait!" you called when he moved too fast. "What's happening? Did you find my family? Do I bring my stuff with me?"

Throwing all you had - drink bottle, toothbrush and paste, protein bar - into your sleeping bag, you bundled it up and jogged after the man.

Nobody had been collected like that. Nobody had heard anything about their family from any official source either. You were very confused and a little sick with anticipation. Trotting along, you did your best to keep up without dropping anything.

Outside in the still dirty and broken street, the door to a sleek black car was held open for you.

"Where-" but you were cut off by a body emerging from the back seat.

"C'mon, man. She's only got one good hand. Could've taken her bag," Bucky said in a tone that was trying to be friendly but made the suited man shift uncomfortably and mumble an apology.

Bucky took the sleeping bag from you and carefully put it in the car. He looked at you then, smiled and nodded. "Sorry, I didn't bring any flowers. Took a little longer to find ya than I thought."

Eyes welling up with tears, you fell into his solid chest. Any embarrassment you could have felt was chased away with a wave of relief. You felt safe.

"Hi," he whispered, knowing you weren't able to reply.

Bundled in the backseat, Bucky gave you space to spread out if you wanted to. You didn't. After two minutes of watching you breathing heavily and trying not to curl into yourself, he undid his seatbelt and slide over.

"Come 'ere," he said, pulling you closer with his right arm. Nestled under him like a baby bird, it was easier to think. Thinking led to questions.

"Where are we going?" you asked. The first words you had spoken since seeing him and they weren't even gracious. Bucky didn't care though.

"New York," he answered. "Bit of a drive, but I reckon driving is safer than flying right now. We'll stay off the radar better too."

At the allusion to threat, your heart rate increased. "Are they still here?" you asked.

A state of emergency had been declared. That's all you'd really heard. You wanted to know if the creatures that had come from the sky were still waging war. It hadn't been an accident that they'd landed in the capital of arguably the most powerful nation in the world.

"I'm a sucker for a pretty face, Y/N, but I can't go around telling state secrets… But the battle's over for now; you're safe. Nothing to worry about."

It wasn't just you, though. There were people to find. Help. Save. However, even thinking about all of that, all of them, was too dangerous of a luxury at that point. You couldn't let yourself think beyond yourself. Instead, you asked, "Where are we going?" again, meaning to inquire about specifics.

Bucky was very used to people's inability to function effectively after pain, trauma. The repetition hardly registered as such; he knew what you meant. "Been staying at Stark Tower since I've been back in America,"

"Wakanda," you mumbled, mostly to yourself.

"Yeah, Wakanda. The Tower is… not exactly a home, but it's safe and it's somewhere to sleep,"

"'Kay." A slight nod was all you could muster.

You closed your eyes and let Bucky gently move his thumb over the exposed skin on your arm. Since it all began, you'd been cold. It was cold outside between the broken homes. It was cold in the rec centre, despite the mass of human movement. But in the back seat of the sleek black car, you were warm. The hoodie you'd been picturing in your mind for days was crossed off the wish list. Suddenly, you were glad to be in a t-shirt, glad to feel skin on skin.

Bucky's hand was warm. You wondered if his other one was, the one made of new vibranium and Wakandan technology. A combination of sleep deprivation and strange comfort led to you briefly opening your eyes and looking across Bucky's lap to where his left hand rested on his thigh. You reached out and took the hand, pulling it closer.

"You can feel everything?" you asked.

It was more than rude, but he forgave you. Usually people were too afraid of him to ask curious questions, so your bluntness was kind of refreshing. "Yeah. Pressure and temperature, at least," he answered, flexing his fingers in demonstration.

"Can you feel this?"

With the lightest touch, you traced patterns over the palm of Bucky's hand. He nodded, letting you trace seams and map his hand like you were charting a course to somewhere important.

"Are-" Bucky went to speak but stopped himself, starting his sentence again. "I know this is a… I don't know, a dumb question, but how are you?"

At first, Bucky tried to not involve anybody else in his search for you. Eventually, he had to explain to Steve and Sam, who kept asking where he was disappearing to. Earth had been invaded - what was more important? He had to talk to F.R.I.D.A.Y. too, so he assumed Stark would find out he'd been on the hunt for one girl. Bucky had half expected people to laugh at him. Or maybe even warn him against ruining an innocent girl's life with his own chaotic one. He was the Winter Soldier after all. Nobody had though. He'd been left with the resources he needed.

On Bucky's way out of New York, Stark had even phoned in, left a voice message. "Yeah, hey, Barnes… Look, if you find… if you find her, you can bring her here… What's one more stray?"

It made him feel like a massive idiot, like he was getting too big for his boots, but Bucky asked the agent to go into each building full of survivors and check for you. He knew going in himself would make a scene, disrupt the peace people so truly needed. The agent complied, of course. The first three times the agent had returned, he shook his head solemnly - "Sorry, Sir." Each time Bucky had reminded the agent that a) it wasn't his fault, no need to apologise, and b) he really didn't need to call Bucky 'Sir.'

Bucky knew you were alive, so you had to be somewhere. And when he watched you trot outside the rec centre, finally knowing where somewhere was, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders he didn't know was there.

Three nights and four days wasn't a long time, especially not by Bucky's standards, but he'd missed you. Even less than four days were the few moments he'd spent carrying you to safety. It wasn't like he'd gotten to know you. It wasn't like you were looking spectacularly beautiful. Honestly, Bucky had no fucking idea why he couldn't stop wondering where you had ended up and if you were okay. He had no idea what was driving that immense pressure coming from inside him to find you.

None of that mattered. You were tucked safely into him, holding his hand like it hadn't been the thing to kill countless people.

"You must have saved so many people," you said suddenly, ignoring his question not out of rudeness or deflection, but out of distraction. You were replaying it all in your head, imagining how Bucky must have swooped in and rescued other people stranded like you.

When Bucky didn't reply, you looked up at him. His expression was almost neutral, but erring on the side of confusion. His head cocked to the side a little, then his eyebrows pulled together.

"You mean, like…"

"Like me," you confirmed.

"Uh, no… not really. I'm more a… frontline combat kind of guy,"

"Thought you were a sniper?"

Bucky smirked. "Yeah… I mean I'm not… They don't send me looking for… civilians, people. The others are better at that," he tried to explain. He could see you didn't understand. "People see Captain America or… fuckin' Thor and know they're saved. Clint's good at it too. They're… people people, you know?"

You were frowning so much it almost looked childish. It was your thinking face, and Bucky didn't want to think it was entirely adorable, but it very much was.

"Then what are you?"

"I'm a… frontline combat, call me when there's a war not a press conference, kind of guy… I guess…" he said, repeated with flair. It was hard to read the tone in his voice; you couldn't tell if he was glad or sad about being that kind of guy.

"What about me?"

Quiet again while he thought, Bucky racked his memory. "You're… You're the only one…"

Bucky had saved hundreds of people during war pre-Howling Commandos and post, and he had saved the literal planet alongside The Avengers, so you were not the first person he had saved by any stretch of the imagination. But he wasn't searching for civilians the day he found you. He was stalking the enemy and killing them. You were not meant to be there. But you were. And if Bucky wasn't, you would have died. It made you the first and only individual person to be 'saved' by Bucky Barnes in the traditional help-me-Superman kind of way. That fact had only just become clear in Bucky's mind.

As Bucky figured it all out, you were watching him carefully, trying to read his mind. His blue eyes were glazed over, but finally came to refocus on you. He smiled softly, and it was very identifiably sad.

Then, unpredictably, he said, "How about we don't talk about the world ending, and we talk about how there's a hot shower waiting for you in New York." And just like that, as quickly as that strange darkness flashed across his face, it was gone. Replaced with a bright expression and casual smile, Bucky's face was reassuring again.

"Shower sounds good," you agreed.

"And food. What do you feel like?"

"Pizza," you replied immediately. Pizza, always.

Bucky laughed. "Probably need something a bit more… nourishing than pizza, darlin'. Vegetables, ya know?" He almost surprised himself with how quickly he seemed to snap into a caring role. He'd not played that part since Steve was small, sick. It felt good. Natural.

It kept going like that for a while. Bucky's constant small talk chatter keeping you on the upside of consciousness. You weren't sure if he was doing it on purpose. If he was worried a nap would ruin future sleep, he was definitely mistaken.

An hour into the trip, you looked up at him again. You'd sunk deeper into him. "Thought you said you don't talk that much,"

"Don't normally… Why? You got a problem, punk? Am I boring you?" he teased, poking your side a little. You tried to swat him away but you used your injured hand. The bandages frayed and dirty moving through the air were a sudden reminder. Warm. Safe. Comfortable. Almost happy, even. But that wasn't the case everywhere. Even if the terror seemed so far away, it was still just out there. You went quiet.

Bucky repositioned you in his arms then, dragging you across the back seat so he could sit on the far left, leaning half on the backrest and partly on the door. He held you so you could fall back on him entirely. His right arm was a secure vibranium seatbelt. His left one was free to move his hand around. He settled on running fingers through your hair. Surely it was full of knots and grit, but he didn't seem to find them. Very quickly, you fell into a shallow nap.

…

Bucky was trying to wake you gently, but you were hard to stir. He laughed as you frowned hard, slowly coming out of a fitful sleep. When you sat up and looked around, you were confused. The car was no longer in motion, and had come to park. It was difficult to see out of the tinted windows. "Where…?" you mumbled, not bothering with the rest of the question.

"We're home," Bucky replied, getting out of the car and closing the door. Inhumanly fast, he was opening the door on your side, offering a hand to help you out.

Shaky on your feet, you let Bucky's hands linger around you as you found your footing. Looking back into the car, you couldn't stop the natural urge to check you had everything - your wallet, phone, keys… But those things didn't exist anymore.

"Do you want any of that?" Bucky asked you, motioning to the sleeping bag.

Your head was shaking no before your mind had really decided, and you closed the car door with slightly too much force. Wincing at the loud thud, Bucky felt bad for you. He often felt bad for people; everything he'd been through somehow made him more empathetic.

"Stark doesn't normally just let people in the back door like this… But it means if you wander off F.R.I.D.A.Y. will probably lock you in a room."

It was easier to nod than ask who 'Friday' was and how they'd locked you in a room.

Bucky took your hand and began to walk. Stark Tower was designed to be somehow both easy to navigate but just as easy to get trapped in - just in case that's what Stark wanted. As Bucky led you down hallways and into multiple elevators, you knew you'd never be able to find your way out without him. It didn't bother you much. The world beyond the Tower was frightening and cold.

The only thing you really took notice of was the distinct lack of people around. Between the car and Bucky's suite, you only passed two others. There was an agent in the first elevator. She greeted Bucky with a monotone, "Sergeant," before hitting the button for twentieth floor, apparently knowing Bucky's path.

The second person was a little more animated, but also addressed Bucky as Sergeant. When he said it though, it felt like a term of respect and endearment. "Serge!" he called as he turned the corner into the hallway you were making your way down. "Heard you'd be here, Sergant." Bucky stopped to shake and pat the back of the man. He was dressed like the driver and elevator agents, but seemed far less robotic in his professionalism.

"Yeah, taking some quick R&R. I'll be back out soon,"

"Take your time. Don't think you owe us overtime or nothing," the agent said, smiling wide.

Bucky shrugged and stepped to continue on his way, his hand still holding yours firmly. "Be safe, yeah?"

"Always, Serge. You get some rest."

In the next elevator, Bucky ran his thumb over the back of your hand. "Figured you're too tired for introductions," he offered quietly. Smiling weakly, you nodded. "Don't worry - he'll go ask someone about you as soon as he can… Bunch of gossips."

At the door to Bucky's suite, he didn't produce a key of any sort. Simply, he said, "Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y.," out loud. You looked around, confused, then the door made a small clicking sound and Bucky opened it.

Inside, coming simultaneously from everywhere and nowhere a warm voice greeted you both. "Good evening Sergeant Barnes. Welcome Y/N,"

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., I told ya to just call me Bucky,"

"Boss says only your friends call you that," the voice retorted. You could hear the sass in her voice.

It stumped Bucky, and he smirked and looked around, annoyed he couldn't face any one spot to speak to her. "Did Stark tell you not to be my friend?"

You thought maybe… she… had gone, but then, "Boss isn't the boss of me… Bucky."

Bucky laughed, and the sound made you spin to face him. His nose was crinkled up in amusement and he put his hands on his hips. Bucky noticed you watching. "That," he pointed up at the ceiling, "…is F.R.I.D.A.Y. She's Stark's… A.I. Kinda runs the place. If you need anything, just ask her. She can hear you anywhere,"

"But I only come when called," she added, seemingly disapproving of the creepy explanation Bucky offered.

"Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.,"

"You're welcome. Have a good night."

You were still looking around for her when Bucky laughed again as he watched you. "Takes a bit to get used to, but you will. If me and Steve can, you can."

Nodding in response, you glanced around the space. Already it was overwhelming. There were floor to ceiling windows, and you could see all of New York from them, even from the other side of the room. You couldn't regulate your emotions. It was like anything you'd felt in your life had a sudden renaissance, all of them fighting to have their fifteen seconds of control of your mind and body.

Slowly, Bucky approached. It wasn't until he was right in front of you that you even noticed him.

"What do you need?" he asked, reading your expression and each movement of your body very carefully. "Don't answer that… You probably don't know what you need, yeah? How 'bout… Shower first."

He was patient. He could probably stand in the one spot for hours without moving if he needed to - if you wanted him to. But you didn't, of course. The problem was that you didn't really know what you wanted. Logically, you knew you should eat. Sleep. Clean. Facing choice, free will, for the first time in days felt alien.

"I…" you tried, but your voice was shaking and didn't sound familiar. "I… I don't know… Can… Can you just…"

What exactly were you asking for?

"Look after you?" Bucky tried.

Aim. Fire. Bullseye.

You nodded, bursting into tears. Bucky closed the gap between you, wrapping you up in his arms like he'd done before. Your own arms were folded, pressed tightly between your chest and his.

"Here's what we're gonna do, darlin'," Bucky whispered, not trying to hush you. "We're gonna get you in the shower, then put you in bed. Go from there…" He kissed the top of your head. "I got you, Y/N."

Chapter 3. 

[islareeveswriting]

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Two steps forward, one step back came to mind.

In fact if Molly was honest, it felt more like one step forward, two steps back. Maybe even a hundred. It felt like Harry had well and truly hit the breaks since they’d gotten back from her parents house, and Molly was left with whiplash, as they sped through reverse to a place that she wasn’t even familiar with. Things felt strained and fractured in the new place Molly found herself in with Harry, and not a single part of her was enjoying it.

It had been four days since Harry had kissed Molly on her doorstep and promised her he’d call her, it had been three since Molly had given in and messaged instead. In her head she could still hear his promise, he’d call later, he’d see her in the week. Molly knew she wasn’t making it up, and she knew she was stubborn too, to a fault, enough people had said it to make her sure it was true, and if Harry was testing her, he was certainly doing a good job. No matter what it was she asked, how his day was, what he was up to on the weekend, if he wanted to hang out soon, she got a short reply, no more than two words, or an excuse of being busy at work. The fact he hadn’t answered a single one of her calls, only messaged an hour or two later to apologise, and tell her he was busy, was something she was trying not to think about too much.

Molly wasn’t stupid. Amongst everything else going on in her head, messing with her feelings and her thoughts, there was the recognition that perhaps Harry was just playing her at her own game, feeding her, her own medicine, and it was a bitter pill to swallow. It stung. Maybe she deserved it, Molly supposed she probably did, considering how hot and cold she’d been with him. Looking back she could appreciate that.

But Harry had been a little more than hot over the weekend they’d spent together, and he was blowing sub-zero now.

It didn’t make any sense to Molly, she couldn’t get her head around the change. The only thing that stood out was the kiss. That was the only thing she could see that might have made him decide to take a step back and cool things off without any warning. Driving home, it hadn’t seemed that way. Or at least until they were nearly home. When he’d said goodbye it hadn’t seemed that way either, though she had admittedly felt confused, she felt sure the next few days would iron out the creases. It was just the next few days had done the opposite. If anything, they’d only made the creases deeper, and the picture blurrier.

No matter how many times Molly went over things in her head, she couldn’t figure out the shifting point, the moment everything had changed so that Harry wasn’t the man who kissed her gently, or held her tightly, or looked so deeply into her eyes she was sure he must be able to see the inner workings of her mind. It made her question everything, including herself. It made her question the things she thought she was sure of, and the things she was doubting in anyway. It made her wonder if she’d come on too strong, if she’d pressured him into something he wasn’t ready for, or didn’t even want, if she’d simply read him completely wrong. Or that she was a terrible kisser and had put him off entirely.

There was one other thing that she thought it might come down to, and it terrified her. Nothing in her had ever wanted to push Harry on things he didn’t want to open up about. Molly never meant to make him feel pressured, or to seem as if she was prying into things she shouldn’t be. But it felt like more than coincidence that since telling her about his family, Harry had retreated from her. It made her feel sick to her stomach that what she’d asked was so much for him that now he didn’t even want to talk to her. It was a possibility, and one she wasn’t comfortable with spending too much time on.

Instead, she found she’d rather doubt Harry’s feelings and words, doubt her kissing ability, doubt how well she thought she could read him, doubt that he wanted to be anything, do anything other than kiss, with someone four years his junior.

The t-shirt of Harry’s that she’d unpacked with her things the night they got back, was still folded over the back of her chair. It was that she’d messaged him about first, offering to drop it over. Harry had told her not to worry, it wasn’t important, and made no mention of how he might go about getting it back at all. That morning it had caught her eye again as she got ready for her technical drawing workshop. All she had on was a pair of jeans and her underwear, she was trying to decide on a top. For a moment she considered pulling it on, tucking it into her loose fitting jeans, but for some reason, and for the first time, that felt like overstepping a line she’d never noticed before.

Things had become very one sided as of late, and Molly was loath to become a pest, someone he groaned about who wouldn’t leave him alone, but she was also unwilling to let things slip away so easily. Nothing would make her forget how good being with Harry had felt, curling into him, and kissing him, she’d never known anything like it, and she was sure her mother had been right when she’d said that someone like Harry doesn’t come around very often. And so Molly had text him again that morning, as she left the flat, letting the door shut heavily behind her and trotting down the steps as she’d tapped out the message.

I’m going to uni, got your t-shirt, where should I drop it?

Maybe it was a little blunt, but her normal jovial tone wasn’t getting anywhere and apart from anything else, the whole situation was beginning to get under her skin. Of course, she knew she’d be back to worrying about it before long, but that only made her more sure it was time to try and get her frustration across.

It made no odds though when eight hours later, Harry still hadn’t replied, and Molly was sat alone in the studio pretending to be working on the technical drawings she’d mastered hours earlier, rather than waiting for a text back. There were only two other people left in the studio, one of them was a third year who had come in after Molly’s workshop to make progress on his own project, but now even he was packing up to get home for the evening. Once more Molly picked up her phone, pretending to next a song on, which she did, but really she was just making sure she hadn’t missed a message notification. She hadn’t, and the Ariana Grande song quickly changed to a Paul Simon song. One Molly didn’t know. One she’d liked from Harry’s latest playlist. Something about leaving your lover. Molly huffed to herself, and hit the next button again, before pouting down at the five menswear drawings she’d completed and was more than happy with.

There was a feeling inside her, as if she’d been swimming along just fine and had just stopped to rest, put her feet on the sand, but she was in deeper than she realised and she began to sink. It was disorientating, a shock to the system, and it knocked the air straight out of Molly. It felt ridiculous to her, she’d never been in so deep before, at least not so suddenly. It was just it felt like she was drowning and Harry wasn’t even in the water.

Eventually Molly gave up waiting. She knew she could have sat there all night and a text might still not come through. The sky was getting dark, turning from bright blue to something deeper and closer to navy, stars just beginning to shine through the colour. There were heaps of bags under her desk, and she didn’t fancy trudging around with them after dark. Her laptop and camera were in there, as well as expensive art supplies she’d rather not replace when she became the third mugging in as many months.

So with a sigh, Molly packed her things back into her bags, pulling her coat on and hauling the bags onto her shoulders before grabbing her phone from her bench and plugging her earphones back in. Another of Harry’s songs were playing, but she didn’t next it on this time, just listened to it as she left the campus and headed for home.

“Molly!” The voice was loud enough to cut through the music, and it made Molly jump, before she turned and pulled the headphones out of her ears and turned to Max jogging towards her down the gravel path. His cheeks were rosy and he was a little breathless by the time he reached her, clearly his slight frame didn’t come from endless cardio sessions. “Sorry, Jenny said you were back, just wondered if you could pop by my office to go over your initial ideas tomorrow?”

“Oh right,” Molly started, nodding a little. “Yeah that’s fine, I haven’t given it a whole heap of thought though,” Molly explained. Though honestly she’d only had one thought about it, and that was the thought she had when Harry was trying on coats the previous Sunday afternoon.

“That’s ok, just so I can get an idea of where you want to go with it,” Max smiled, cuddling a file to his chest as he did so. Molly just nodded again, hoping the way the cogs in her mind were suddenly turning at a rate enough to make smoke didn’t show through. She had one idea. One single idea, and she felt stupid for basing her whole project on that one idea now, as she agreed a time with Max and turned away, trying to figure out if asking Harry to model for her project was too much to ask when she couldn’t even get a reply to a text from him.

Molly headed home with her eyes on her feet, watching each step they took, glancing up occasionally to prevent herself from bumping into strangers and pinching her lips together between her teeth. In her head she wasn’t in the world, her legs were moving without thinking about where she was going, as if programmed to get from the studio to home. She’d done that walk so many times that it was near enough that way now. Molly’s brain was turning through ideas, leafing through pages in her mind, trying to envisage something that wasn’t Harry in her tailoring line.

It was impossible. No matter what came to her head, an image of Harry in the red jacket came back, in the printed suit, in the silver jacket, the white blouse. The list went on. They weren’t ideas she’d built around Harry per se, more ideas that didn’t look right on anyone’s shoulders apart from his. Anyone else that came to mind got worn by the designs. In her head Harry wore them like they were made for him. And she supposed they were, and she supposed that was the problem.

Street lights had begin to flick on as Molly got closer to the park, closer to home. She couldn’t wait to get in. She had plans of sticking her phone on charge in her bedroom, having a hot shower, and sitting on the living room floor with the sketch pad she kept for doodling and her favourite mechanical pencil. It sounded idyllic and she wished the walk through the park wasn’t so long, though to make it pass a little quicker she tried to find inspiration in the things around her. The way the lights made the water glitter, the shadows of the trees, and the way the darkening sky made everything look a little abstract and scary.

Molly got caught up in her head again, oblivious to the world around her other than the little details that sparked ideas in her head. She saw sparkling chevron jackets, she saw floral designs on a navy background, she saw white silk plunging down a smooth skin. She was so caught up in what was spinning through the webbing of her mind, that it took her a while to notice the group of boys running around on the grass. When she did though, it only took a second longer for her to pick Harry out of the group.

Thursday. Training night. Molly remembered as she saw the egg shaped ball fly through the air into a pair of hands. Harry had his hair tied up, the glare of the street lights shone on the sweat clinging to his forehead. Even from the distance Molly swore she could see the redness of his cheeks. Quickly she looked down, she didn’t want him to see her, she didn’t want them to be caught in a moment of embarrassment where Harry was forced to acknowledge her, and sped up her pace, mumbling a whispered “Shit,” under her breath as she did.

“Lolly!” Even if the voice hadn’t been instantly recognisable to Molly, the nickname would have given Harry away in a heartbeat. Molly slowed and moved her eyes to Harry, he was jogging towards her steadily, slowing as he got nearer, a bright smile lifting his rosy cheeks and rounding them. Once he was close enough she could see little bits of his hair were sticking to the sweat on his brow, and he sniffed back aggressively, the tip of his nose as red as his cheeks, as his nose crinkled. “Hey,” he breathed, his hands resting on his hips as he caught the breath he’d obviously lost during the drills he was practicing and the jog to Molly.

“Talking to me now then?” Molly bit, and it surprised even herself. She didn’t quite know where it had come from, and judging by the taken aback look on Harry’s face that made his brows sink and his chin jut towards his neck, he didn’t either.

“Ey?” Harry chuckled, his arms moving to fold across his torso.

“Well you’ve been fobbing me off for days,” Molly told him an unimpressed look on her face as she kissed her teeth and stared up at him unamused.

“You mean like you did to me after Christmas?” Harry challenged, lifting one eyebrow and smirking down at Molly, shifting his weight a touch as he did so. The arrogance leached off of him, and it made Molly crinkle her nose at him as she narrowed her eyes, a little in disbelief that he was using that against her.

“Fuck you,” She hissed, before turning on her heel, heaving her bag back onto her shoulder from where it had dropped a little and beginning to walk away.

“Fine, but I was gonna ask if you wanted to come over later,” Harry called after her. There was no doubt in Molly’s mind that he expected her to turn around and accept graciously without so much as flinching. But Molly refused to be that predictable or easy. He’d been nothing but difficult over the past few days, and she could play that game just as well as he could.

“I’m busy,” Molly told him, glancing over her shoulder, only catching the edge of Harry in his training leggings and shorts, a baggy t-shirt covering his long sleeved top underneath that clung to his body as if it were his skin.

“Don’t be a child,” Harry groaned, and Molly could hear his footsteps begin behind her as an echo to his voice.

“Don’t talk to me like one then,” Molly returned, continuing to walk away from Harry, though slowing a little so he could catch up with her and hear her properly.

“Maybe don’t act like one?” Harry said as if it was a suggestion, a comment on her character, a little way to improve.

“I’ll see you later,” She sighed, with a shake of her head.

“Later?” Harry asked, glee in his tone as his footsteps stopped. Molly turned and wobbled her head at him again, eyes narrowing as she took in the bright smile and wide excited eyes, wondering how he had the nerve to tell her she was acting like a child when he was looking like a toddler who had just been told they were going to Disney World.

“It’s a turn of phrase Harry,” Molly sneered, “Judging by how you’ve been lately, I have absolutely no idea when later is,” She told him with an authority she couldn’t own very easily. What had seemed like a niggle of frustration was very quickly showing to be a bit more than just a niggle. Actually seeing Harry had made the seed flower and bloom, only it wasn’t very pretty to look at.

“Well how about roughly eight o'clock?” Harry smiled sweetly, like he knew what he was doing, like he was used to having people riding helter skelters around his little finger. It only irked Molly more and she flared her nostrils at him chewing her cheeks, trying to bite back her words, but not quite being able to.

“You can’t do this Harry, it’s not fair, you’ve been pretty much ignoring me for days and you want to just go back to how it was before like nothing’s happened? Am I missing something?” Molly fumed quietly, not wanting the rest of Harry’s teammates to hear. It looked like they were continuing to train without Harry, but Molly was sure a raised voice would put an end to that. “You’re either the guy that kisses me and likes me and wants to see where this goes, or the guy who ignores me, but you can’t be both, and you need to decide which-” Before Molly could even think about how she was going to end her speech, Harry grabbed her arms and pulled her close, smashing his lips onto hers and literally taking her breath away. It lasted no more than five seconds, but that wasn’t exactly the point.

“Answer your question?” Harry asked pulling back, a little breathless too, but still holding onto her arms gently, with fingers, that Molly noticed, were ringless. Whoops and hollers sounded from the other side of the green, Molly’s cheeks instantly reddening, enough for her to drop her head against Harry’s chest in attempt to hide them. Harry just chuckled and put her arms around her, one hand resting on her back, the other entangling in her hair.

“Get in there Styles,” A loud voice called, and Molly groaned, turning her head away from the onlookers. “Got yourself a Coyote, nice one!” The voice was somewhat recognisable, but Molly didn’t look to put a face to it.

“Fuck off,” Harry called back, his chest rumbling under Molly’s head as he did so. “I’m sorry if it seems like I’ve just been being a jerk,” Harry began and Molly lifted her head to catch his eyes as he spoke, though it seemed like he caught hers, his bright green orbs ready and waiting for hers. “It wasn’t intentional, just work is hectic, we’re on the last push for the new build and I’ve been doing crazy hours so I’ve literally been getting in and fall asleep, I should have made more effort, I know, I’m sorry, we’ll talk about it later?” Harry suggested.

“Ok,” Molly nodded, “I get it, you’re busy and stuff, and work, I get it, but just after the weekend, and what you said, I thought, maybe, you’d-”

“No,” Harry cut in, anticipating what Molly was about to say and shutting it down before it was even out loud. “Definitely not, just, look, I’ve got to get back, we’ll talk about this later yeah? I think we need to talk about this,” Harry told her wincing slightly, and Molly just nodded, cogs beginning to turn and her lips rolling together as they did so. “Stop overthinking, I can see you doing it,” Harry chuckled as Molly smiled softly. “I’m sorry I upset you, and pissed you off, I would never do that intentionally, ok?” Molly nodded. “Just maybe, without sounding weird, maybe we just need to clarify some stuff?” Harry suggested, clearly nervously.

“Yeah,” Molly nodded, and she saw Harry visibly relax. “See you later then?” She checked.

“Later,” Harry winked, before bending his neck slightly to peck Molly’s lips sweetly this time. “Let me know when you’re home please?” Molly nodded as she backed away from him, before turning on her heel and walking away. Once she heard Harry’s footsteps start up again she glanced over her shoulder coyly to watch him running away, back to the rest of the men who were waiting for him, laughing, pulling him into a headlock and toying with him. Molly chuckled to herself before heading out of the park, feeling a little more relaxed, though not without a glimmer of nervous anticipation about the promised conversation.

As Molly got closer to home, she tried to feel easier about things. It wasn’t likely that Harry was about to suggest going back to ‘just friends’ after kissing her in front of his friends, but she wasn’t sure if that was even what she was so scared of. Honestly, she didn’t know what she was scared of it, but as always seemed to be the case, Molly was struggling to believe things were simply as good as they felt. It wasn’t helped by the fact things with Harry felt so ridiculously good, the kind of good people dreamed of, read about in books, saw in movies, and that was surely too good to be true. On the other hand, Molly just couldn’t work out, no matter what Harry said or did, what he saw in her enough to make him want to kiss her in front of his friends, or care enough to know when she was home, or do all, or any, of the things he’d done for her since they’d met.

Despite Molly’s outward confidence, internally it wasn’t quite so apparent. Inside Molly was nervous and unsure of herself. Inside Molly was nothing like the confident young woman she portrayed so easily. The doubting came easier than any kind of calm, clarity or self-assuredness she might show off for anyone else. No one really ever saw it, but it came through in her stubbornness and her overthinking and all the little bits she hated most about herself.

There were few days that passed without Molly doubting herself, and she wished she could be as confident as she pretended to be, all the time. Sometimes she was that confident, but it was mostly when she had a pencil in her hand, or was sat at a sewing machine, or had a needle pinched between her finger and thumb. The only thing she really trusted about herself was her ability to make clothes, so much so that she’d managed to convince herself she’d have to move to a big city after university to carry on the only thing she was sure she could do well, even though, honestly, the idea filled her with a little dread.

Molly was glad to be home. The straps of her heavy bag had begun to dig into her shoulder, and her handbag was beginning to annoy her as well. If there was one downside to being a fashion student, it was all the things she found herself lugging into university so regularly. She was sure she’d have back and shoulder problems by the time she was thirty thanks to it. All her housemates were in, lights were on all over the place, and once again Molly thanked the heavens the bills were included in their rent. Light was flooding out from under Ben’s door, meaning he was either working or had a girl over, but there was a collection of voices drifting out from the kitchen, so once Molly had deposited her bags in her room and pulled an oversized jumper on and some leggings she went and joined the rest of her housemates.

It was a normal scene. Lauren was sat at the coffee table making notes, Natalie curled up on the sofa behind her eating a jacket potato with beans and cheese, and Jimmy was at the hob cooking up something far more intricate than jacket potatoes for him and Lauren. The pair had decided to take it in turns cooking, they split their food shop, and the washing up, and enjoyed a proper meal nearly every night. No one else had the cooking skill or the patience to join in, so left them to it. Though when Molly smelt whatever it was Jimmy was working on, she wished, yet again, that she hadn’t opted out of the idea at the beginning of the year, even if her offerings would have been meagre compared to the dinners Jimmy and Lauren rustled up.

“What’s cooking tonight Jim?” Molly asked sliding up next to him after greeting her housemates chirpily. There was a little sheen of sweat on his forehead, his hair clipped back in a mini crocodile clip probably stolen from Lauren, and steam was surrounding him from the vegetables he was cooking.

“Stuffed chicken breasts with greens and new potatoes,” Jimmy smiled brighting, tipping his head towards Molly whose mouth was all but watering at the idea of the meal. “You were ages today,” Jimmy pointed out retrieving his knife from the potatoes he was checking on.

“Technical drawings, wanted to master them properly, and then Max caught me to sort out my one to one and stuff,” Molly mused moving away from Jimmy for the kettle. There was an hour and a bit to spare before Harry arrived, and Molly intended on spending that time how she’d originally planned to spend her evening; with her sketchbook, a cup of tea, and her phone on silent on the other side of the room. Jimmy just nodded, standing with his back against the worktop and watching Molly move around.

“Heard from Harry?” He asked quietly. It wasn’t that Molly didn’t want her other housemates knowing about what was happening, or not happening, with Harry, it was more that she was struggling to understand it herself currently, and she didn’t really know what there was to say. Jimmy was different though, Jimmy was her confidante, the person she told everything, anything, without fear of rejection or humiliation. And Jimmy could see through her like a freshly cleaned window, so even if she’d thought about not telling Jimmy, or asking for advice, which she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have been able to get away with it.

“Yeah,” Molly told him, appreciating his quiet tone, one that didn’t invite questions from the others in the room. Molly felt a little bad, like she was keeping a secret, which wasn’t something they normally did in that house, but then the situation didn’t feel entirely normal either. “He’s coming over in a bit,” Molly swallowed, pouring boiling water into the pink flamingo mug she’d chosen.

“To explain himself?” Jimmy asked, in a tone that suggested that was what Jimmy thought should be happening. It was very clear how Jimmy felt about the way Harry had handled the days following his and Molly’s return from her parents house, and it was far from kind. Again, Molly swallowed, she didn’t know if that was the case or not. Harry had suggested a chat, and though she anticipated it being about them, whether he’d give her any clue as to why he’d been so quiet over the past few days wasn’t so clear. “You can ignore it all you like Mol, but no amount of gentlemanly gestures make the way he’s acted ok,” Jimmy explained.

“I’m not ignoring it Jim,” Molly groaned, straining the tea bag until it was dry, “but I don’t want to seem unreasonable,” Molly told Jimmy moving across the kitchen to fetch the milk. It was something that had been playing on her mind since Monday and Harry had text her to say he was busy and they’d talk later, though that had never happened. It felt like a fear of coming on too strong, or asking for too much, she didn’t want to be the girl who pushed someone away by getting upset over nothing.

“How is it unreasonable to expect a text back from someone who kissed you, more than once, and promised they’d call?” Jimmy asked a little sarcastically. But Molly had learned not to expect too much, it only left her feeling let down and like the one in the wrong. “Don’t do this again Molly.” Molly snapped her eyes to Jimmy, wondering how he always seemed to see inside her head, often before she’d even got all the way there herself. “I don’t want to be picking you up again, I don’t ever want to see you how you were at the end of things with Ryan again, that wasn’t you, don’t dull yourself down, don’t lose your fire, you wouldn’t let me get away with it, you wouldn’t let Ben, or Lauren, or any of us get away with treating someone like that, or being treated like that, so hold yourself to the same standard and call him out on the fucking bullshit,” Jimmy implored, a little forcefully but still quiet, though somehow that only gave the fire in his tone more fuel.

“He told me he wanted to take it slow though Jim, maybe this is what he meant by slow,” Molly suggested with a little shrug, though she knew she didn’t believe it, maybe she was playing devil’s advocate, maybe she just didn’t want to believe the alternative.

“No, this is what is meant by having his cake and eating it to,” Jimmy promised her, Molly lifting her mug and taking a sip as she turned to Jimmy.

“Is that not what I was doing in the beginning?” Molly asked, because it wasn’t something that hadn’t crossed her mind over the past few days.

“You are ridiculous sometimes,” Jimmy scoffed, “no, Molly, you were in a relationship, he knew that, he was fine with that, this is entirely different.” Molly didn’t know if Jimmy was right or not, it felt more like he was just biased, and if Harry was giving Molly a taste of her own medicine she wasn’t sure she could blame him for it. “Believe what you want, do what you want, I like him, but if this is how it’s gonna be, I won’t do for very long.”

“Don’t, that’s not fair,” Molly scalded. “We’re not even a ‘thing’, we’re just seeing how things go, and how you feel about him has got nothing to do with it, you can’t blackmail me.”

“I’m not blackmailing you, I just don’t like seeing you treated sub-par, you don’t deserve it, and you’d be the same if it was the other way round.” Molly knew that were true at least. “He’s a nice guy, don’t get me wrong, I think he’s great, and everyone can be a dick from time to time, no one’s perfect, not even you.” Molly laughed at that and rolled her eyes.

“I have work to do,” Molly told Jimmy, standing straighter and leaning forward to give him a peck on the cheek. “I do listen to you, y’know?”

“Yeah, and ignore me,” Jimmy scoffed, turning back to his dinner as Molly giggled and left the kitchen to cocoon in her room until Harry arrived.

And that was exactly what she did. She lit the cheap vanilla candle, turned on her fairy lights, shut her curtains and sat nearly cross legged on her floor with her sketchbook and a mechanical pencil, her cup of tea resting on a coaster so as not to mark the carpet. She selected her ‘chill time’ playlist and stuck her headphones in her ears to drown out any possible distraction. It was Molly’s favourite way to work, it was comfortable and familiar and even if there wasn’t work to be done, she’d come back to it time and time and again to relax.

The pages were empty and for a few moments Molly tapped her pen against the paper, but it didn’t take long for her mind to magic something up and she began sketching out various ideas, her pencil scratching against the thick paper. Songs played through, but she was pretty much ignorant to which ones they were as she got absorbed in her minds trails, flicking through ideas, trailing off to ideas of fabric samples she might pick up, or magazine cuttings she could find. It was Molly at her finest, when she was most herself, and most comfortable with herself. Anyone looking on could see that.

Molly was entirely wrapped up in her work, completely oblivious to anything going on around her. Her mind was fully focused on the little sketches, the music drowning out the world. That was until a pair of feet appeared in front of her sketchbook on the floor and Molly nearly jumped out of her skin, letting out a fearful little scream as she snapped her head up to see Harry lowering to a crouch, chucking to himself. She clutched her chest with one hand and closed her sketchbook quickly before pulling her ear phones out.

“Sorry love, didn’t mean to scare you,” Harry smiled as he dropped to meet Molly’s height. “I bought Thai Food though,” he told her, holding up a brown paper bag that Molly hadn’t really noticed in her fright. “And these are for you.” Harry offered her a bunch of flowers wrapped in brown paper with that, diluted colours, the kind he knew she liked. “They didn’t have enough roses for a full bunch, so I chose a few others to go with them,” Harry explained as Molly took the bouquet in.

“They’re lovely, thank you,” Molly grinned, looking back up to Harry from the flowers. The shorts he’d had on earlier had been replaced with joggers and he had a hoodie on his upper half, the neck cut and strings tied in the middle. His hair was damp and tied in a knot, a red headband holding back the loose curls that would have sprung out around his face otherwise. He looked cosy and comfortable, at least outwardly, but Molly could see the thing in his eyes that told her perhaps internally it wasn’t quite the same.

“They’re separate to this by the way,” Harry started and Molly frowned a little confused, “but I’m so sorry, really sorry, for how I’ve been.” Molly understood then, Harry didn’t want her thinking the flowers were any kind of damage control, they were just because, and his words stood alone. “There’s no excuse, it wasn’t fair, but, I’m gonna be honest, I panicked a little, I just,” Harry hesitated, moving to sit on the floor properly and cuddle his knees into his chest, and thought for a second, though never looked away from Molly’s eyes as he did so. “I haven’t done this, ever, I’ve never been in,well, felt like I do, and I didn’t know what to do with it all and I was trying to figure it out a bit I think, but it didn’t really work and I upset you doing it, which just makes me feel shit, so yeah, I’m just really sorry,” Harry explained, swallowing once he’d done so, clearly nervous. Molly nodded, taking in his words.

“It’s just confusing being kissed, and told someone likes you, and then saying it’s just fun and stuff and then not hearing from you, I sort of started to panic you just wanted a no strings kinda thing, cause I, well, I really like you, and…” Molly trailed off shrugging a little and pursing her lips to one side, staring up at Harry as she sunk in on herself a little.

“I like you to Lolly, I really like you, a lot, and yes it scares me just how much I like you, but in a good way, just took me a minute to realise it was in a good way,” Harry told her with a lopsided smile, reaching for her hand that was holding onto one of her knees and pushing her sketchbook out of the way so they could move closer. His hand slid out of hers and down her leg until it was resing just shy of the curve of her bum, gentle and warm through her leggings. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, I never want to hurt you or scare you or...” Harry gave up and exhaled deeply and Molly chuckled very lightly.

“You can stop saying sorry now, I know, you’re sorry, and you didn’t hurt me so much, more just confused me and annoyed me,” Molly giggled and Harry broke into a smile with that. Steadily she lifted her hand to his face, her thumb resting against his high cheek bones and stroking along it gently as she smiled. “It’s good, we’re good,” Molly assured and Harry nodded into her hand, turning his face into her palm and kissing it gently. “Just don’t shut me out, please?” Molly asked quietly. Harry turned to look at her again and licked his lips as he nodded slowly and silently. “So Thai food?”

Harry jumped to life with that. Without a single hesitation he hopped to his feet unfolding a blanket Molly hadn’t noticed hiding behind the paper bag, announcing they were doing this ‘picnic style’. He asked where the plates were and trotted off to the kitchen to fetch them, before Molly could even consider offering to go instead. When he came back he laid out the food on the blanket and handed Molly a plate and cutlery telling her to tuck in as he pulled his hoodie over his head, his t-shirt underneath lifting just a little as he did so, showing off the band of his boxers and the black ferns on his skin.

Molly hadn’t realised quite how hungry she’d gotten since lunchtime, until she started eating and her appetite seemed to ramp up. One serving wasn’t enough, and she was quite happy to take seconds when Harry encouraged her to do so. It seemed Harry had remembered Thai food was one of Molly’s favourites, and more than that he’d remembered all her favourite dishes too. Maybe it was purposeful, trying to make up for how he’d been, or maybe it was subliminal, or something extra like the flowers had been. It didn’t really bother Molly though, it felt nice that someone was paying enough attention to know what dishes she liked to order from the local Thai takeaway, or what her favourite flowers were.

“So what were you drawing?” Harry asked, finishing his own second plate of food and placing it down on the rug they were sat on, beginning to tidy the empty trays and containers back into the empty bag, glancing to Molly as he did so, awaiting her answer. Once he’d tidied, Harry rested back on his wrists, legs crossed, his t-shirt rising over the waistband of his faded jeans just a little, enough to show the slightest of skin underneath, as Molly chewed slowly on her food, swallowing down forcefully before answering.

“Just some ideas,” Molly shrugged, non-committal, and pushing rice around on her plate, trying to scoop it onto her fork, rather than meeting Harry’s eyes that were heavily lidded and dipping to try and catch her own. It wasn’t that Molly was necessarily avoiding Harry’s eyes, or question, but suddenly she felt shy under his watchful stare.

“Ideas?” Harry asked. Molly shrugged again, licking her lips for no apparent reason and lifting her fork to her mouth, beginning to chew on the last of her rice slowly, and quietly. “For your project?” Harry went on, though it didn’t feel like he was prying or pushing her. That time Molly nodded. “The ones you were talking about Sunday?” Again Molly nodded, leaning across to stack her plate with Harry’s.

“You can look if you want,” Molly told him, grabbing the ring bound book that she’d moved out of the way when Harry arrived and handing it over to him.

“Are you sure?” Harry checked, obviously noticing Molly’s slight timidness.

“Of course,” Molly reassured with a crack of a smile, though she swallowed on nothing, somewhat undoing the confidence she tried to speak with as Harry wrapped one of his large, and once again ringed, hands around the book. As Harry opened the book, he watched Molly’s face more than he did the pages, trying to make sure she really was as certain as she made out. Molly could feel his eyes on her, but she just stared at the slightly off white paper, her delicate sketches visible until Harry moved and the book tipped away from her. That made her heart beat a little faster, though she couldn’t pinpoint why.

Never in her life had Molly been scared to show someone her work, any part of it, not the initial rough sketches, the patterns, the toiles, or even unfinished final pieces. However, as Harry began to leaf through the pages of her sketchbook, eyes moving slowly over each little drawing and turning pages as if they were made of glass, Molly felt admittedly nervous. She even began to chew on the skin around her nails, and that was something she hadn’t done in a while. Normally Harry calmed her, made things feel easier, and it was new to feel so nervous and on edge in his presence. The fact she couldn’t quite figure out why she was so nervous only made it worse.

“These are really cool Lolly,” Harry smiled, glancing up at her a little as he said it, and turning a page simultaneously, quickly dropping his eyes once more once he’d done so. Every idea she’d had that university year was in that sketch book, the initial drawings of every project she’d completed, and a few extra sketches that she’d done for herself, and Harry was leafing through them gently, the same way he waded through her mind, being gentle with every delicate part and even the not so delicate. Treating everything with care like it was fragile and breakable. “These the ones?” Harry asked, tipping the book again so Molly could see. Molly lifted her head a little, peering over the book and nodding as she sunk back down onto her bum. Harry took them in with a little more interest than the others, and Molly crawled over to him, leaning over her book and looking at the sketches with him. They didn’t look bad, but to the untrained eye not all of them were clear.

“So,” Molly began, “Basically I have to do two outfits, so I’m going to do a full suit, and then a coat, that I’ll pair with trousers,” Molly explained pointing to a faceless mannequin sketch wearing a pair of striped trousers. “These are ideas for the sort of fabric I have in mind for the suit,” Molly went on, motioning to a small part of the page made up little boxes each detailing different patterns and shapes. “Obviously there’s no colours yet, but I’m thinking navy and red are going to be the main themes, but the coat will be black with all these sort of,” Molly hesitated and looked to Harry who had gone deadly silent, and found him staring back at her instead of the pages. “Oh shit, sorry, I’m going on, sorry,” Molly bumbled sitting back down away from Harry, her cheeks flushing furiously and her fingers quickly interlocking with one another, lips rolling into one thin line, as if holding herself back in every possible way.

“What? No, not at all,” Harry told her, shaking his head the place between his eyebrows creasing a thick black line in the skin. “Carry on, I want to know,” Harry gushed, moving to sit next to Molly and placing the book across both their laps. “Please,” Harry asked gently, tilting his head to Molly a little. Molly nodded and cleared her throat, her fingers beginning to trace over her drawings once more.

It became clearer then, why perhaps she’d been so nervous about telling Harry. Molly had a tendency to get lost in herself when it came to her designs and ideas, ramble on without control about them, enough to bore people. At least that’s what Ryan had said as he sighed and told her she was going on again. It always hurt, but Molly had just trained herself not to get caught up in her mind, and instead just give Ryan the skeleton of what was in her head, save boring him and being shut down. Perhaps what she was really scared of was being asked to restrain her passion all over again, but what she should have known was Harry wouldn’t ask that of her. Instead he’d coax it out of her even more, encourage her to rave about the inner workings of her mind. He’d done it before and he did it again then, asking little questions that begged more explanation. Molly wondered how he did it, how he made her feel comfortable enough, and if it was only her he had that effect on. She wondered if she could learn the trick and turn it on him, make him feel as easily unravelling for her.

Of course the truth of it was, that Harry had learned that keeping people focused on themselves meant they didn’t ask him to be so honest.

Awww little kiss and make up isn’t that cute? Mmmhmmmm .... what do we think? what are we thinking? Theories - HMU! 

[notisaidthefrogg-blog]

Dear Octopath Exchange Creator...

Hello! I really appreciate you reading this letter and I eagerly anticipate your awesome creation! As a writer myself, I’ve probably made my requests/prompts very narrative-based; feel free to take inspiration from any part to turn into art if that is your strength! If you have any questions/would like to challenge any unreasonable requests, don’t hesitate to ask on anon!

(edit: this ended up being way longer than it had any right to be, I just tried to make up for any restrictions with a whole bunch of prompts, I probably rambled way too much, don’t feel pressured to read the whole thing)

First of all, I’ll just introduce myself briefly because I haven’t posted here before. I am Frogg (Nebulariffic on Ao3). You won’t have seen me around at all because I tend to lurk on sites like Tumblr, but I’ve been following the Octopath fandom since the game’s release and I’ve really loved the fan creations that have come from it! This is the first fandom exchange I’ve participated in here, and I’m hoping it will help me come out of my shell enough to post some of my other fan works!

But enough about me, time to get to my gift preferences! I do have some odd tastes by some standards, but as long as there’s no DNWs, I’m sure I’ll love whatever you come up with! Again, if anything here seems unreasonable, just message me and we can come up with something.

I’ll start with what I really like:

- Friendship/found family fluff! I’m a sucker for some high quality friendships and nothing forges friendships like trekking across the continent together! I think that our favourite eight travellers have a lot of potential for fun interactions together, or even if it’s just one or two of them with some NPCs or other characters!

- On the other side of the spectrum, hurt/comfort featuring supportive pals just warms my heart! Cheery friend/s lifting spirits of sad friend/s? Wonderful. Multiple sad friends taking comfort in each other? Exquisite. Again, there’s so much potential with this crew to make something really touching!

- Character growth! This may or may not be self explanatory, but I love characters doing tricky things and becoming better people for it. Things like working up courage to admit fault, apologise, forgive, put aside differences, or generally facing and conquering fears!

- If you have a cool AU idea, I’d love to see it!

Now as for my dislikes, these are mostly things that I’d be okay seeing in general, but I’d just rather not have in something I was requesting.

- This one’s going to seem a bit odd/prudish, but I’d like for no non-canon romantic/sexual pairings. I’m fine with super-close ambiguous friendships with hugs and comfort, but I’ve always felt weird about non-canon ships. Besides, I think we could do with more platonic friendships!

- If you would like to go for a non-canon romantic pairing anyway, I’d be okay with that just as long as it stays Lite(TM). In particular, I really don’t like pieces focussed on marriage proposals, weddings and pregnancies (especially mpreg) - that’s just something I’ve never liked in fic/art.

- Please no excessive emphasis on past abuse... It’s okay for characters to remember dark moments in their pasts, but detailed flashbacks and characters bemoaning their existences just make me feel like garbage.

- I’d prefer no prominent OCs. Background roles are cool, but self-inserts/reader-inserts/fanchildren and the like break my immersion.

And for my DNWs:

- No smut/porn/nudity

- No rape/non-con

- No underage/incest

- No kinks

- No excessive violence

- No character bashing

- No major character death (unless it’s directly portraying/referencing a canon event)

I make that last point because you can’t very well have a Primrose-Chapter-1-centric moment without Yusufa, for example.

Now we get to the fun bit - prompts! I realise that I drive a hard bargain by requesting all eight travellers, and I’d be perfectly fine if you only want to focus on a subset of them. If you have an idea for something based on what I’ve already mentioned, then go for it, but if you’re stuck, I’ve got some prompts based on who I’d particularly like to see! I’ve also provided some general/AU prompts, and if you want to go with one of those prompts, you can include any number of the travellers as you please!

Alfyn - If I had to pick a favourite traveller, it would be this wholesome boy.

I’d love to see him helping out his friends if they get sick or injured, or if they just need someone to listen. Counsellor Alf is a very good Alf!

If you want to go for super-angst, I’d suggest something related to his Chapter 3. There’s so much to unpack in that chapter alone that the game couldn’t even touch on!

Olberic - I think Olberic is really under-represented in fan works, and I’d love to see more of him!

I know he has a softer side, particularly around children, and it would be cool to see that played against his protective aggression. Maybe the group gets attacked and Olberic has to defend them?

H’aanit - Another underrated character imo. If the prospect of H’aanit-speak is too intimidating, I wouldn’t be offended if you just had her talk normally.

H’aanit always strikes me as the kind of quiet, stoic character who doesn’t say much, but every one of her words is meaningful, if a little blunt. Perhaps some wacky antics will get her to open up? (wink wink nudge nudge)

Or maybe she accidentally offends someone and (with coaching from the rest of the team) gets enough social courage to apologise?

Does Linde count as an unrequested character since she’s not on my request list? I jest, but feel free to make something with her and/or her relationship with H’aanit if that strikes your fancy! If you want a Linde prompt, maybe something that contrasts her noble-fierce-wild-beast side with her big-domestic-cat side? 

Other travellers -  If you want to make something focussed on any of the other travellers, that’s perfectly okay too! I just don’t have any specific prompts for them (bc its 2:30am here and I’m tired). Just hit me up if you’d like prompts for a character I haven’t touched on here!

General/AU prompts -

Rescue Fic: Nothing says “I care about you” than “you were in X predicament and I got you out of it”. Ties in very well with the fear-facing I mentioned in my likes. The only question is, is it one or two people saving the rest of the team, or is it seven looking for their missing friend? You decide!

Innocent Bystander: This is one of my bigger prompts, so you can skip this idea if it’s too longwinded/complex. Team OCTOPATH blows through town, leaving innkeeper/barkeep OC (or other NPC) to chase after them and witness/reflect on/clean up after their shenanigans. I can elaborate on this idea further if you like, just shoot me an ask!

Modern AU: How would the backstories/jobs of the cast translate into modern day? How would they meet/become friends? I love seeing theories for this topic.

Band AU: You know that new Break, Boost and Beyond artwork? The one where half the cast is practically a rock band (looking at you Olberic)? Tell me how that happened. Go nuts.

I think I’m going to wrap up this letter here, hopefully some of this was useful! Of course, feel free to disregard my prompts if you’ve already got ideas, or hit me up by anon if you want me to elaborate on any of these ideas. And of course, have fun and thanks for making me a thing!

Sincerely, Frogg (Nebula)

[ofphcenixes]

@noah-malone​

there’s always a price to pay... and noah paid blue’s secret to save his own. 

discord thread ( to be continued... ) 

NOAH:

That stupid action, blurred moment of hate, that joint that confused his thoughts too much had finally come back to haunt him. Haunt him in the form of Blue, a few texts, a stare at the parking lot. A nice night bowling, trying to rekindle a friendship. Who knows maybe more? All knocked down by his stupid actions. This was not just strike one, but strike two. Noah knew he was going to score a punch, if not from Blue, definitely Holden, threats letting the screen light glare. Feet stuck to the car park ground, tears in eyes, mouth stuck open, unable to speak. “Blue, please?” the whimper, fear twisting. Not from Blue, not from Holden but what honesty may slip. If his truth entered the air it was gone from the shadows, into the lights of the parking lot. Noah was scared, not for himself but his own safety and the safety of the one he was protecting. Tears slipped, dripping onto his collar. Just silence.

BLUE:

Blue's hands gripped around his steering wheel, the leather conforming to his hand as his teeth ground together with his eyes square on the entrance to the bowling alley. The blond hadn't known what to expect of Noah ever since their conversation in the woods, and it had quietly haunted him since then with the way Blue treated him. He was not good with emotions, that much was clear. Noah knew Blue at a time where he was a mere amalgam of denial and lust - his motivations for everything surrounding the void in his heart he was so trying desperately to fill with truths he was avoiding. Not many people were privy to that side of Blue, as he was still so afraid to let that be out there. He was far more secure in himself now at least, but Blue's sexuality wasn't something that he advertised - he'd merely quietly accepted it. But with one action, one moment - Noah had ruined that.Blue viciously slammed the door of his car as he began to pace across the parking lot, Noah emerging from the shadows as he met him in the middle. Blue was absolutely seething - however, he felt his fists stiffened at his side. Instead, his eyes pleaded with Noah's as to why the fuck he did what he did. "Please what ?" Blue heaved, his eyes pointed on the other. His resolve had already begun to crumble, the anger subsiding into a brazen and furious harrow. "You of all fucking people knew that I have people in my life who don't understand this side of me," Blue spluttered out, looking so lost as general merriment could be heard from the bowling alley. "And I know I don't... hide it anymore like I used to, but that did not give you the fucking right." Blue was confused. After he confessed to Noah his motivations for leaving him high and dry all those years ago, he figured that he understood. That their friendship was on the mend. That hey, maybe they actually could stand to talk in a room together. Instead, Blue got this. "So what was it, huh ? Revenge ? Boredom ? Thought, oh, he was a dick when he was 15 to me, so let me just advertise that he likes dick too !" Blue could see Noah's expression crumble with each passing moment, the tears permeating on his skin. But Blue couldn't find it in him to feel sorry for him. If anything he thought... of all people he'd understand. Bu the didn't. He just fucking didn't.

NOAH:

Noah thought he was going to be sick watching the figure approach.  Each word made his stomach churn, wanting to bend over in pure pain and anxiety. “It’s not like that- it’s a shit excuse, I was high.” Noah quickly brought his hands to his face, shouting into them, before dragging his nails down his cheeks, truly beginning to cry. “I’m not mad at you Blue. I wasn’t bored and there’s no revenge. I have a problem, you know I have. Everyone knows I have.” Then the shaking began, then the cravings. He craved what made it better, what also made it momentarily better, momentarily easier- a fix of anything. Oh please, take the pain away. “I’m scared Blue, I had to do something and I had logic then but it doesn’t make sense. I was wrong, I was so fucking wrong.” Hands slipped into his hair, grabbing it tight. “I’m stupid. I’m sorry. Do whatever you want to me, let anyone do what they want to me. I’m sorry Blue.” Then the breathing went, beginning to hyperventilate- fear and cravings, it controlled everything. “Baby I’m sorry.”

BLUE:

Blue furrowed his brow as the other mentioned intoxication. He couldn't help but hearken back to the times that used to be Them sharing a blunt, under the spell of a narcotic as they spilled their biggest secrets to one another. The very excuse almost made Blue's entire expression solidify into a pure rage. "So you get a free fucking pass because you were high when you outed me ? I guess that makes sense," Blue quipped angrily, his arms crossing over his chest. Blue regretted agreeing to this. For a second, he could almost imagine the two being friends... perhaps not in the capacity like they once were, but at least, on good terms. Despite the innate fear that Blue still had of letting people close, he knew he wanted that. But now he was less sure.As Noah began to cry, Blue felt his features soften. He didn't know what to do as the man who he knew to be the most composed, intelligent, put together, just crumbled like a house of cards. His apologises quelled the fire, but Blue couldn't help the festering anxiety that this was... doomed. Trouble followed the pair like a shadow in the light, and no matter what happened, something always occurred to come back to haunt Blue. First, it was letting his emotions out only for Noah to remain tight-lipped. Now, it was him revealing something so precious and intimate that really only the pair had shared. But Blue could see the conflict, the pain etched over Blue's face. And he knew there was more, but he still couldn't fathom in any capacity how this involved him. "You... need to stop giving people an excuse to use you as a fucking punching bag," Blue breathed out at the other's final words, his lip trembling. Then he could see it - a weakness, balls of sweat and how Noah's face blanched. The razored breath that cut into Blue's heart. "Noah, I... I think you should sit down."

NOAH:

Blue was right in everything he said but Noah knew nothing else, Noah had always been a toy? a pawn? someone to use. He expected it, he wanted it but in reality he needed to escape it. “I’m sorry Blue, I’m making it about me and it should be about you and what I’ve done to you. I’m so sorry, I’ll never forgive myself.” Following Blue’s suggestion, his knees bent, legs moving to allow him to reach the gravel. Legs crossed and eyes down, Noah’s arms hugged himself. He was aware that his actions were out of character but he was too frantic to stop. Too frantic to readjust. Too frantic to just settle. Nothing was okay and in that moment of pure lunacy, Noah begged the air to let him evaporate, to be nothing but a bad memory. To be another Daisey, just less cared about and less relevant. Fucking up people’s lives sucked. Eyes lids heavy and swollen, shut. A large exhale through his nostrils, met with a shaky inhale through the mouth. The regret was unmanageable. So much anger to himself, he was sick of himself, sick of it all. Just sick to his stomach. “Blue I am so sorry, I know it won’t make it better but I am and this may or may not be the most honest thing I ever say to you. I’m just so fucking sorry.” Noah decided he wanted to tell him, just let him know what was really going on. “Will you ever forgive me? You don’t have to answer now.” It was a whisper, a plea, a whimper of tears. This was a breakdown but witnessed by Blue.

[yourjughead]

Loyalty

Sweet Pea x Reader 

Part 2

Synopsis: an alternative point of view to Athletes in which Reader is the boss Serpent Jrs and she has eyes for Sweet Pea but he had eyes for a cheerleader who only dates athletes.

A//N: not sure about this storyline or if it will have a second part, let me know if you like it. It's quite long and the time line is over many weeks if not months.

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

“I hear she only dates Athletes SP”

“So an athlete I will be Fangs”

“Oh god, I don't think they take delinquents on their prissy basketball team Sweet Potato”

“A bit of positivity ynn-ie, please" you rolled your eyes at your best friend who was ogling at the cheerleader across the quad. And not you.

“It's neeeever going to wooork” your voice teasingly taunted as you slipped off the table you were perched on and sauntered off to your locker.

“Dude I thought you were crazy about yn?”

“I am but she's...I don't know it's complicated”

“Hmm a girl in our gang who we all love and respect, who can handle herself and is smarter and handier with ammunition than any of us combined likes you back, wow you are the definition of tragedy pretty boy” Sweet Pea shoved him off his end of the bench and he went laughing.

“No it's more complicated than that, she's our superior and she's...ugh it's easier if I just leave it and besides, Sarah over there will make a nice distraction”

~

Sweet Pea went to tryouts, dragging Fangs along. You and Toni sat on the bleachers watching them run up and down, doing all of the things that was required of them and it wasn't just your interest that was peaking. Sarah was enthralled by your bad boy basketball best friend.

Coach announced that same day that both boys made it onto the team. You being the first to see the list with their names.

“Pea!” You called happily to him running down the hall to meet him, seemingly forgetting his reasons for joining in the first place. You went to take him in a hug but instead you almost skidded into the back of a cheer uniform.

“Names Sarah Weatherbee, vice cheer captain, congratulations on making the team. C’mon, walk with me” you looked her up and down from behind before going to say something, being cut off by Sweet Peas goofy grin. She linked her arm through his and hauled him off. Toni joining your side with Fangs.

“Well, he's joined the darkside...oh and congrats on making the team Fangs” your somber tone was not lost on your friends as you slipped off to be alone.

~

You and Toni attended every basketball game you could, with Serpent work getting in the way sometimes. At first the change in Sweet Pea was subtle but then he asked Sarah out and she began changing him entirely. He no longer wore his Serpent gear unless at meetings, his hair was different, he didn't drive his bike opting for his car instead however the most significant change was he was simply never around anymore. At the start you’d all always go get dinner after games, now you were lucky to get a goodbye from him. This hadn't gone unnoticed by any of you.

“I wonder how he plays basketball with that stick stuck up his ass”

“Easy ynn you know he's just going for the girl”

“Yeah well he's got her and she's changed him into Malibu Ken” the three of you watched him, now on the other side of the quad, eating lunch with her.

“You still have me, I've not gone rogue”

“If only” Fangs threw a ketchup packet at you in rebuttal, the three of you laughing which seemed to catch Sweet Peas attention, if only for a second before it was dragged back by Sarah.

After lunch, Sweet Pea dug around his locker and you threw yourself against the one alongside his.

“Hey Sweet Potato we have a job tonight so cocktails at Buckingham Palace will have to wait till tomorrow”

“I have this family garden dinner thing at Sarah's so I can't"

“You can and you will” your tone went from playfully to blunt. Cutthroat, angry with anything that moves kind of blunt. He stood up to look you in the eyes for the first times in weeks. He really looked different, more polished.

“Is that a threat?”

“I'm sure you wouldn't want to find out. 8pm. Docks.” You pushed off the locker moving to leave but he caught your forearm before you could.

“Yn. I can't, I have this thing wit-”

“With the Serpents? Yeah it's called loyalty, remember that? Now I know you think a look out job is below your ranks and it's certainly below mine as your boss but I'm doing this to help YOU get back in good with the Seniors because they're not happy with your recent...alliances and besides, I can't do look out by myself” you pulled your arm from his grip, your voice dripping cold, you were over his ignorance and as you walked away he attempted the last dig.

“Can't do a little watch job by yourself?”

“Not that I can't, I shouldn't have to” the last dig was yours and you delivered it to him with you back turned. He knew the rules, no Serpent no matter their ranking was allowed do lookout by themselves, there's always strength in numbers. As soon as those thoughts entered his mind, they left it as Sarah made her appearance. He was falling for this girl who was honestly a witch and he didn't know how to break it to her that he couldn't go to her family's outdoor dinner.

~

~

Sweet Pea POV

I just had to go to that dinner. I did. Sarah wanted me there, I didn't have a choice. Yn will understand...I mean she might be a little annoyed I turned my phone off on her but she'll get over it.

“Sweet Pea!” Fangs came running into the private gardens, Serpent gear and all, what is he trying to do?! He's going to embarrass me!!

“Dude! Get out of here before someone sees you"

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“It means keep your voice down and unless it's important, leave” yes I was harsh but I was around important people and I didn't want to make a show of myself.

“Yeah? Well YNs car was ambushed and because of you she was there alone and now she's in the hospital so is that important enough for you Mr. Wall Street?” I thought I was going to be sick and Sarah being Sarah, chose the wrong time to come over and ask Fangs to leave.

~

Third Person.

You sat up in the hospital bed, it's cold steel frame burying in your back. A bandage over your forehead, eye threatening to close, lip crusted in uncleaned blood, a forcibly broken arm in a cast. Your one good eye focused on the wall and you jumped when your the door violently swung open and your body howled in pain for the movement. Sweet Pea put a hand to his mouth and seemingly stumbled to your bedside, collapsing on his knees to the floor next to you. His Serpent jacket gracing his shoulders for the first time in weeks

“Y-yn”

“Save it”

“No yn I have to apologise”

“Well apologizing isn't going to transport us back in time to before I was beaten with a metal bar now is it?” you cocked your head to one side sarcastically and tried not to show the pain the movement caused.

“I...I brought you this teddy, it's dressed like a nurse and-”

“A FUCKING STUFFED ANIMAL?! I WANT YOUR FUCKING LOYALTY NOT THIS” you took it from him with your slightly better hand and tossed it to your feet.

“Okay there's no need for all the swearing I know you're hurt but-”

“NO! NO FUCKING BUTS! YOU HAD AN OBLIGATION TO THE GANG TO BE THERE! You had an obligation to me!” Tears began to threaten your cheeks.

“They could have killed me tonight Sweet Pea, I've got internal bleeding and a cracked rib to name some of the stuff you can't see but you know what?! You not being there for me hurt way more than that beast breaking my arm over his knee. Just fucking leave me alone, you're so good at that" Sweet Pea stood slowly biting the inside of his cheek and moving for the door.

“You know yn, I will live with the guilt of what happened tonight for the entirety of my life and I hope I do because it's the least i deserve and I'm going to find the people who did this to you.”

“Alright Liam Neeson, take your special set of skills somewhere else” you went back to showing your anger instead of hurt.

“What can I do to help fix this yn, what can I do to being to fix this?”

“Go back to being the old Sweet Pea” you looking him in the eye for the first time since he came in. And although he was kind of blurry, you held as much focus as you could.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means go back to the Sweet Pea who cared about his friends and his family and didn't try to reprimand me for fucking swearing. Go back to the Sweet Pea who had not only my back, but everyone's”

“what you mean break up with Sarah?"

“I never said Sarah. You came up with that one on your own” your naturally blunt tone was easily a match for his new forced one, even that had become a struggle in his new change and because timing was not her strong suit, in she came.

“Sweeties come on, I'm sick of waiting in the car can we just go alre-oh yn, umm you look umm...hi yn” you just narrowed your eyes at her before waving her off and sinking back down into the bed. Sarah didn't seem phased and caught Sweet Peas hand to pull him out.

“Oh wait Sweeties” you called after him sarcastically and he turned quickly, naively thinking you had a change for heart.

“Leave your jacket, you won't be needing it” once again you got the last dig in. He grunted as he tugged off the jacket and threw it on the hospital chair, Sarah then achieving in taking him away. You let yourself cry then, no longer able to keep up the idea of being strong. Soon you found yourself teary but in the arms of Toni and Fangs who got into the bed next to you to comfort you. Sweet Pea had once again left you but you always had them.

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

Part 2

Share if you like it Xx

[imaginekpoplikethis]

Mixing It Up - Troublemaker! Min Yoongi X Reader - Part 4

Oh my gosh an actual update

Okay so my idiotic self thought that when college started again, I’d be able to keep up with my work and stories. How wrong I was. I’ve mentioned many times that I’ll attempt to resume my original pace but I don’t know if that will be possible. I’m hoping within the next week or two I can but because final exams are this year it may be unlikely. I’ll just have to stop wasting time on useless stuff and spend said time on writing. Please bare with me.

Preview  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4 - Here  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11 - Final

During lunch, you spent your time glaring holes into Yoongi's head. He noticed five minutes in and returned your glare yet that didn't stop you from deepening your scowl. You should have known he wouldn't care about your reputation and school records being ruined. He's Min Yoongi, notorious for being a troublemaker.

You felt fingers pry your now squashed water bottle from your grip and only then did you come to your senses.

"Hey, you don't actually know if Yoongi was responsible. He never admitted it." Suhyun placed the bottle beside her before directing her expectant gaze at you.

"And he never denied it either. It makes sense that he would be the cause of this mess. All he's done since I've met him is harass me."

She took a moment to think about the previous weeks before she nodded her head in agreement.

“Fair enough... but you know what they say. When someone teases you, it usually means they like you.”

She was greeted with a scoff.

“I’m pretty sure I said ‘harass’ not ‘tease’.”

“Same thing for Min Yoongi.”

At this point Mi-Rae decided to join your table, settling beside Suhyun. She gave you both a small smile as a greeting and proceeded to chew on her food.

“Hey Mi-Rae. Haven’t seen you around in a while.” It was true. Mi-Rae seemed to disappear often recently leaving you with no clue as to where she was.

“Oh, really? Well I’ve just been about.” You paid no mind to her vague answer and stood from your seat.

“I hate to say this since you just got here but I need to go. If I start cleaning the class now, I won’t have to spend so long after school.” Both girls nodded in understanding and you took that as your cue to tidy up your lunch, heading straight for your classroom after.

Ten minutes later, you were scrubbing at the teachers desk, hoping to remove at least a little bit of the black marker left on it. You had to admit that some of the comments left on the desks were quite amusing. The typical ‘he likes her’ was one you came across more  times than you would have expected.

Your thoughts drifted back to that morning. To do this much damage the culprit would have had to have arrived early in the morning. It wasn’t something that could be done in a mere hour. You suspected maybe two and a half to three hours were spent on this mess.

“What kind of sad life does Yoongi have to be spending this much time drawing on desks?” As you mentioned his name, your scrubbing became more aggressive as you absentmindedly read the sentence.

“‘It was Min Yoongi... he’s a pyromaniac?’” You stared blankly at the writing, not able to process what it had said. It was only when the lunch bell rang and students began to file into the class where you realized what they had been implying. You quickly moved to cover the writing, although it was probably useless as everyone had already read a majority of the writing that morning.

That didn’t stop you from quickening your cleaning and you wiped with such ferocity that the only remains were a faint pen mark.

So the culprit was not Yoongi.

You felt the weight on your chest lighten a bit with that thought.

Still... who would call him a pyromaniac? You had no doubt in your mind they were trying to make a link between Yoongi and the school fire.

Although you too had initially believed he had something to do with it, the time you had spent getting to know him and how he worked made you have second thoughts on the real culprit.

Even if Yoongi was a pyromaniac, there was no evidence yet to suggest he was behind it and you hoped it stayed that way.

Being lost in your thoughts, you were only pulled out of them when your class’ teacher entered the room. Greeting your teacher, you took your seat, letting your thoughts wander again.

Apologising to Yoongi was a given. You had unnecessarily flipped out at him and he had just taken it, surprisingly. You half expected him to drop kick you or something but he just seemed offended that you of all people would accuse him.

Maybe you were getting through to him more than you thought.

-

That same day you had decided to visit the bubble tea café by yourself. Suhyun offered to go with you but you simply denied her offer, explaining you needed time to think about how to approach your dilemma. You were quite stubborn so you found it hard to face it head on. You could practically feel the embarrassment that was sure to come with your apology. You had acted out of order.

Sipping on your usual drink, you blankly stared out of the front window. Within the next few moments, Yoongi appeared in front of you, shooting you an apathetic look. Almost choking on your drink, you shot up off your seat and all but sprinted out of the shop after him. He seemed to hear you coming as he spun around, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you hot but bitchy Y/N or cute detective?”

A smile almost spread across your lips, keyword almost. That didn’t stop the faint pink from dusting your cheeks, however.

“Neither, just me although I’m not that great...” You muttered the last part to yourself though Yoongi caught it.

“Well, you’re not as loud as Tae so that’s an automatic plus.” A chuckle escaped you before you turned serious, intent on getting back on Yoongi’s good side.

“Listen, I’m sorry for accusing you earlier on. That was so uncalled for.”

He just smirked at your words and shifted his weight back onto the balls of his feet.

“Wow. Screaming at me, sending me evil looks and then apologising all in under twenty four hours? That’s got to be a new record. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you couldn’t live with me hating your guts or something.”

You wanted to punch his smirk right off his face but you refrained from doing so. Maybe later. Yes, you didn’t just swallow your pride for nothing.

“Hellooo? Earth to Y/N? Do my words have that much of an effect on you?”

You shook your head, ridding it of the somewhat violent thoughts you were having.

“Something like that. But there is one more thing I need to ask you. I don’t know if it’s too personal but... do you by chance have an obsession with fire?”

A look of shock flashed on his face for a millisecond before his smirk returned.

“In other words ‘Are you a pyromaniac?’ That’s what you’re asking, right?”

A blunt nod was his reply.

“I personally don’t think so. I guess that’s what everyone labels me since I always carry fireworks and shit.”  

Well that was somewhat unexpected.

“Fireworks?”

He didn’t reply but turned on his heel and set back on his way.

“I’ll explain that another time... see you later.”

You successfully delivered your apology albeit you were left a little confused. You ultimately decided it wasn’t something you should dwell on.

“At least that’s over and done with.”

You too set on your way home, all the while smiling to yourself over your success. You took a detour into a stationary shop as you realised you were running low on school supplies and selected your usual pens. Taking them towards the counter, you realised that Mi-Rae was before you, paying for her items.

“Hey, Mi-Rae. Running low too?” You gestured to the pack of markers the cashier was placing into a plastic bag along with notebooks and sticky notes. Your sudden appearance caused her to jump slightly before turning towards you and smiling kindly.

“Ah, yeah. I seem to find myself here often.” You nodded in understanding as she picked up her purchase and bid you a farewell.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Waving her off, you too paid for your items, thoughts drifting back to your deal with the principal.

It wasn’t Yoongi so that’s one suspect down. Lord knows how many to go.

-

The days seemed to fly by and before you knew it it had already been a month since the deal. You had long since cleaned the markings left inside the class though it had taken you more than a week. Whoever was the culprit didn’t think to give you any mercy as they went as far as scribbling inside lockers. You didn’t know what you were going to do once you found them but it definitely involved hurting them as much as they hurt you.

Your back, legs and arms were all sore from the constant switch in posture.

You hadn’t gotten any closer to finding the culprit with the month that went by and you were beginning to give up until you heard the latest gossip from none other than Suhyun.

“Guess what!? They know what cause the fire in their school.” You almost grabbed her by the collar, eager to know what had been the catalyst to the unexpected occurrence. That and you wanted to reassure yourself that it had nothing to do with Yoongi.

“Apparently, it was fireworks or something.” As if in cue, the speakers around the school boomed to life, the principals voice flowing out of them.

“Can Min Yoongi please make his way to my office. This is an urgent matter.”

Eyes widening, your head whipped around to watch Yoongi shove his hands into his pockets and stalk out of the lunch hall, a scowl present on his face. His friends all shared confused looks between each other and Jimin stood from the table, trailing after him.

“Wait-“ The hushed whispers that erupted from the students around you cut you off and you found yourself gritting your teeth in exasperation.

“I heard it was him...”

“It would make sense since he’s a pyromaniac.”

“What!? He’s a pyromaniac?”

“What’s that?”

“Are you stupid? It’s someone who is constantly setting fire for some kind of sick pleasure or relief.”

“Woah that’s scary! We’ve been attending school with a criminal!”

He hadn’t even been proven to be the cause of the fire and students were already labelling him a criminal. You wanted nothing more than to punch the obnoxious girl who screamed the last sentence but instead opted for slamming your hands down onto the table, gathering everyone’s attention. The hall grew relatively silent except from the few whispers bouncing around and your glare grew darker.

“Y-Y/N? Just ignore it and sit down.” Suhyuns panicked whisper did nothing to calm you down and instead you moved from your table, raising your voice so you could be heard by the majority of students.

“Ah, I hate ignorant comments! It’s sad that you have to feed off creating rumours like this. Criminal? Cut it out with that kind of bullshit, you just sound like an air headed idiot.”

With that, you stormed out of the hall, the silence following you.

You just hoped that wasn’t all in vain and Yoongi really wasn’t a criminal.

-

Yoongi never returned to class. You were sent on an errand to said boys class and you couldn’t help but scope the class for him but to no avail. He was nowhere to be seen.

When school finally ended, you caught up with Jimin on his way out of school.

“Jimin! Er... what happened with Yoongi?” A crestfallen expression fell on his face and he sighed.

“They say they caught him on tape with fireworks right before the fire started...”

Your heart dropped at this.

“So that means...”

“I guess it means he’s going to get in a heck of a lot of trouble but I don’t get it... that day he said he was called into a classroom by someone. The same class the fire started. Sure, he had fireworks on him but they were meant for when we hung out later on.”

“You don’t think he done it?”

Jimin’s immediate response was a shake of his head, orange hair bouncing with the movement.

“I believe he didn’t. Sure, he’s not the best student but setting a class on fire is too much, even for him. If it was his fireworks maybe he didn’t mean it? Do you believe he did it?”

You didn’t need to ponder over his question. Your answer came straight away.

“Nope. Not in a million years. I don’t know Yoongi that well but he’s not as bad as everyone makes him out to be. Although I did think he was before I met him...”

Either Jimin didn’t hear you mutter your last sentence or he chose to ignore it because he didn’t reply.

“Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow Jimin. I’ll... I’ll try and figure out a way to get Yoongi out of this. I don’t know if you’ve heard but I’m kind of playing detective now.”

“Yoongi mentioned something about that a few weeks ago. But thank you for your help and concern. We appreciate it, especially Yoongi.”

You shot him a sympathetic smile before leaving the school gates.

So basically, once again, someone innocent was being blamed for something they didn’t do. It just so happened to be Yoongi this time and not you.

You were definitely going to help as much as you can. It was the least you could do since your apology did not seem sincere enough to you.

-

Jimin watched the retreating form of Y/N, smiling slightly at her worry.

“Gosh Yoongi... you’re lucky to have her care about you that much.”

“I am aren’t I?”

Yoongi’s arm wrapped around Jimin’s shoulders making said boy jump before he placed a hand over his racing heart.

“Hey! Don’t do that! Are you trying to make my heart stop?!”

“You’re just a scaredy cat. Even Taehyung doesn’t react that way.”

He pouted in slight annoyance whilst Yoongi took a few steps forward.

“She may even care too much. I might hurt her...”

He stood in silence before motioning towards the schools entrance.

“You coming?”

Yoongi began on his way again as Jimin nodded his head, jogging to catch up with his fast pace.

You’re incapable of hurting her Yoongi. Not everything you come to love will break so easily.

Jimin kept his thoughts to himself.

[samstar1990]

The Thorn beneath the Rose

I have not written a VNC fic before so I hope you enjoy it xx

Several disappearances in Paris now have Paris’ greatest detectives on the case. Unfortunately, the greats are also having an argument. But that shouldn’t get in the way of helping others right?

Chapter 2 here

               Have you ever had a fury deep within you? A fire that scorched your insides and the only way to get it out was to open your mouth and spit fire at someone else? Then they end up stocking the flames instead of cooling them down? That was how Noe felt.

One foot quickly followed the other as he stomped through the streets of Paris completely enveloped in his angry haze, that he scarcely noticed the Parisians as they dived out of the vampires way. Eventually the man’s internal thought process violent exploded in a large shout upwards and a punch connecting to the nearby wall.

“Ah, why on earth was I cursed to follow that dim-witted, narrow-minded human idiot!” Noe yelled releasing all his fire from the bottom of his stomach “couldn’t just let me be correct for once, the stubborn fool will get himself killed!”

He near roared before panting heavily. Passer-by shoppers had stopped and were whispering to one another about the strange tanned male and his seemingly animalistic behaviour. Even in his anger, a small fleck of embarrassment seeped in. Maybe the middle of the street was not the best place to get something off his chest. Flushing and clearing his throat, the Archiviste wandered down a nearby alleyway to recollect himself.

               In the cooling shade of the alleyway, he tried to think a little more clearly and collect the memory he needed for this particular moment. Vanitas and himself may have argued and were now on bad terms but both had a job to do. That morning as the two bickered, they had received a letter concerning recent disappearances in the area.

Several vampires had disappeared over the course of the last few months. Relatives noted odd and even violent behaviour in the individuals before they had vanished completely. Vanitas was insistent on a lead he had but refused to share, so Noe was left wandering around unsure what to do and screaming to himself. Domi would be upset with him for sure…

He hoped Vanitas was at least having a better time than him.

Technically he was.

But he was also standing by a morgue table looking over the twisted remains of a vampire man. The raven hair male hummed to himself raising a hand to his lips.

“Why hasn’t the body turned to ash yet?”

               Vanitas had arrived a few moment earlier asking for any clothing related to recent vampiric deaths. Mysterious as he was it seemed Vanitas also had people who owed him favours. People whose job it was to keep this kind of accident under lock and key. Imagine the teenager’s surprise when he was told the latest vampire was still whole.

And it was the latest victim to have gone missing.

“Was there anything on the body to suggest a cause of death?”

The worker nearby looked at him with a weird look before thinking over the question.

“I haven’t touched it, you don’t traditionally get autopsies on Vampires and I am certain to moment I touch it with a knife it’s gonna crumble” The man muttered to himself “But looking at the body, his nails are blunt and a little bloody and his neck is scratched up”

Vanitas looked over the nails. They seemed brittle and had crumbled away as if lacking nutrients, and the man’s neck did appear to have faint pink mark around it like he had scratched at his neck.

“He starved to death?”

“It would appear so…there are also the bite marks on his arms” The worker pointed to several puncture wounds along his arm all angled in a way that suggested the victim had bitten himself repeatedly.

“The man was starving to death but instead of getting food like a normal person, he ran away and tried to drink himself?”

“It was insanity clearly, everyone knows drinking your own blood won’t destroy the bloodlust and only makes you throw up. He was sick in all sense of the word”

The self-appointed doctor hummed to himself. What could it be? A virus? Charlatan? If he didn’t figure it out quickly, only more bodies would turn up, right? So he needed to somehow test the body and figure out what was afflicting it…

Suddenly a cracking sound captured the two men’s attention. Turning back to the table, the cracking continued until the whole body crumbled before them.

“Oh, shit…now I have to clean this up and come up with a reason why a body is missing again!”

Vanitas wandered over to the table and looked over the remains as if hoping they would spell it out but instead all he was left with was a bad feeling in his stomach. “I can probably help you out there….I can get rid of the processions for you”

Knowing Vanitas’ mind the other was suspicious “Fine…but the stuff better not end up on some market stall”

Vanitas laughed but internally made no promises. But this was a lead, now he wouldn’t look like he was just trying to avoid Noe because of a stupid argument. Because he definitely wasn’t doing that.

               Noe, on the other hand, had wandered into an unfamiliar backstreet lined with small shops selling knickknacks and weird remedies. The sights and sounds were intriguing and the man became lost to his own childish nature. Everything was so new and exciting, he almost felt like he needed to thank the other for being such a bonehead or he may have never found so many cute things and tiny cafes. He had to bring Domi here some time; she would love a hidey hole from society as much as him. He wandered from one side of the street to the other determined to discover if the café would provide him with his favourites. Then he would chalk this moment up to fate.

“Watch where you are walking!” Venom spit from the mouth of a young woman as they collided in the middle of the road. Noe caught her out of instinct but when he went to apologise he became struck dumb.

The woman was pale as a sheet, her hair and clothes were ruffled as if in some form of struggle but the most alarming part was a small smear of blood on her lips.

“What are you staring at?” She hissed, fangs baring a little.

“M-mam? You have something on your lips” Noe was unsure how to react and in all honesty, a little frightened by the woman. She seemed incredibly unhinged and was let her vampire sideshow even around the crowded human streets. She faltered a moment before wiping her lip and staring at the finger entranced by the red smudge. Without grace, she stuck the finger in her mouth and seemed to collapse in a weird utopian glow. Now the tanned male was the only thing supporting her frame, and her unladylike appearance was causing him to flush.

“M-mam?” He asked again. This snapped the woman back to reality and she lashed out catching Noe’s cheek. He recoiled

“I won’t… let you have it….It’s mine!”

Before the other could react, she had jumped to her feet and was running off down the street. Suddenly stuck in thought, Noe found something occurred to him.

“Violent behaviour? Potential victim maybe?”

Noe found his eyes going across the road to where he had seen the woman come from out of the corner of his eye. The only thing there was a corner shop; yellow wooden windows with an awning over the top of fresh produce lining the walls outside. A simple florist selling large bouquets. The vampire came closer with curiosity, how could a flower shop cause a woman to react so strangely? If it was involved at all. In front of the door was a board containing some special offers on different blooms as well as some form of service involving aromatherapy.

“Using scents to calm the mind and body..” He read aloud “Hmmm like how some flowers affect animals?”

“Exactly!” a small voice called causing the man to jump and turn to see a young woman stood there smiling.

               The woman came up to Noe’s shoulder, with brunette curls pinned back and around her neck with gentle blue eyes. After getting over the shock of how she got so close he smiled.

“So it works the same way with people too?” he asked before his eyes drifted to her neck where there seemed to be sore skin hidden beneath her hair. He frowned, usually this meant she had been bitten. “Perhaps… even on fanged things?”

The woman’s smile faltered and then became knowing “If one has a trouble keeping hunger under wraps…I am able to help” she pushed open the door hitting the bell and causing a ding noise “We can talk more inside though”

So he was right, she was a vampire.

               Inside the shop was small with a counter near the back dividing the room from a staircase. The woman had already made it to the counter and had brought a book onto the table.

“So my name is Marie, I am an upcoming expert in aroma theory. Now the therapy is in early stages so no guarantee on results” She mused opening up the pages as Noe approached her. Marie was very shy and excited in her manner and Noe couldn’t help but smile, even if this is a dead end lead he can’t say today didn’t have it perks.

The book in front of her appeared to be a guest book of sorts. She turned it to him and asked him to sign. “It has had a wonderful effect on vampire urges helping our kind integrated with human society I am so happy” Her enthusiasm was adorable.

“How about anger issues…I’m um…currently very mad at a friend and it is interfering with work”

There was a pause

“Well it has calming effects so I would assume it would work just as well” Marie pointed to the book attempting to prompt him and his face dropped.

There were only a few names on this page but every single one had appeared on the letter he and Vanitas had received that morning. All bar one; a female name, and Noe was absolutely certain it belonged to the woman who had left the shop. This shop was a connection between all the victims perhaps even. Marie narrowed her eyes.

“Is something the matter sir” It came out more as a command than a question.

“Oh erm…I know…” he panicked a little, and pointed to a name in the book “Mathieu…he was a close friend.” He swallowed regaining his form “But he went missing, everyone has been worried”

The woman seemed suspicious “And what work are you doing in the area”

“Erm well…socialite work…” He muttered “ Just looking into some old scholars living in the area”

Noe tried his best to keep a straight face but there was something about the attitude Marie was taking with him. Now he was certain he had stumbled across one of the most important clues to this case.

And he had done it before Vanitas!

               Vani sneezed and grumbled. Safely making it back to the hotel, he was hoping to rub his find in Noe’s face and the rude ass couldn’t even be back in the hotel room to listen to his gloating. Oh well if anything this meant he could actually turn his clue into a useful clue. He seriously contemplated actually doing his job, but instead, he found himself concentrating on how to dramatically scold the other when he finally came back to the room.

“Ha, and where have YOU been?” he got up and dramatically pointed at the empty doorway. He then stopped and hummed “No…too…flouncy….”

He had been attempting the perfect pose and line for the last ten minutes and had enough options to choose from, it was now just a case of narrowing it down. He sighed and leant on the table.

“Maybe I am thinking about this the wrong way…” He mumbled to himself before something caught his eye. A small business card was poking out of the breast pocket of the victim’s jacket. “Hello…”

Nibble fingers made quick work of slicing the card from the pocket and straightening it out. On one side was the image of a large arrangement of flowers, when he turned it over on the other was a neatly written message.

‘You are to no longer come to me- M’

“hmmm…guess this takes virus off the table…for now”

What was he meant to do with this though? It was a lead but it was tiny, too tiny to take him anywhere. But if anything this meant someone was leading the disappearances. But why?

“Ah! Noe, get back here so I can show you how wrong you are!”

               The room above the flower shop was a small living area, nothing too fancy but was clearly where the owner lived. In one corner a large grandfather clock supplied a constant ticking noise as Noe sat on a large sofa across from Marie as she poured herbal tea into a china tea set. It was a little awkward at the moment, Noe was unsure what was about to happen especially since Marie had invited him upstairs for a trial treatment. It was clearly for privacy, he kept telling himself.

“So Vanitas huh? What an unfortunate name” She smiled pushing the cup towards him. Noe picked it up and laughed a little.

“Yes…My parents have a horrible sense of humour”

Vanitas was going to kill him. When she got suspicious, he grew weary of signing his name on the book and the first name that came to him was Vani. Damn that man! Noe gingerly sipped from the cup, he had never tasted a herbal mix before so this was an interesting experience none the less. Marie smiled and rose to light small candles around the room.

“Well Vanitas, I will let you know how this will work. I will introduce some scents through candles and oils” She lit several candles of different sizes, and near instantly Noe felt the smells mix. It was so strong he couldn’t understand how this could be relaxing to anyone.

“So I just sit here and smell?”

Marie laughed and gracefully walked over to a gramophone. “We also play music so it creates a whole new atmosphere”

“So um” It was now or never to ask “I was wondering if any of your clients have been acting weird?”

Marie hesitated a moment before walking back to the table this time to light a candle near to Noe.

“Not that I know of… why would you ask such a question?”

“Oh sorry…my friend was acting weird, so I wanted to make sure no one was harassing…you” Was that convincing? Oh, he hoped so.

Marie laughed and sat on the arm of the chair looming over the male. Noe swallowed through his nerves.

“You are cute Vanitas…but I don’t think that’s your real name”

Noe went to retort when she pushed her lips to his and forced her tongue to enter his mouth. Something broke and then a metal taste spread over his tongue and down his throat.

               Noe managed to push the woman away but he was forced to swallow the liquid.

“Blood?” He asked looking up at Marie and she chuckled and walked over to the window. Suddenly he was aware coming alone anywhere was a horrific idea and he had to escape. He pushed himself to his feet as he began to feel the strange warmth within him. Marie turned back around, a deep glow to her eyes.

He felt transfixed to them.

“I know you are not here for therapy” She hummed “But I have been looking for a new pet”

“Pet?” He coughed finding his throat had become unbearable dry very quickly. Whatever he had drunk it wasn’t normal. The woman laughed again, taking great pleasure in the confusion on the man’s face.

“So ‘Vani’, did you know my clan was cursed far more than any other clan?” She asked watching Noe support himself as he tried to make his way across the room. “ Most vampires have poison in their fangs to help make the act of drawing blood more…pleasurable. But mine has no poison in them. When I draw blood…the pain itself is enough to kill a human”

“S-sorry to hear that” He tried to mock but his voice was caught. He looked over to the door, it felt so far away in that moment. He had to escape. Had to find Vanitas.

“But in exchange, I was given something much more useful” Marie removed a broach from her person and brought it to her palm. The point of the pin broke the skin easily. The moment it did, Noe felt his senses go into overdrive; the aroma of her blood overpowered everything in the area. His mouth watered and it was like a haze was seeping over him. “The poison is in my blood instead…and it makes it irresistible to Vampires”

Noe was shocked as everything fell into place “The people who went missing…their behaviour”

“All puppets dancing to please me and to taste my blood”

“Well, I won’t be won over that easy!” Noe was defiant as he attempted to fight against the pull the blood was trying to have on him. The scent that enveloped him was addictive, slowly he found his thoughts began to imagine where the taste must be. Catching himself the vampire found he had moved towards the woman. Her smile turning demonic. Turning away, Noe tried to think of the people he cared for, tried to recall the taste of Domi’s blood. His dearest friend, he only needed her blood…and maybe…

But when he tried to recall the taste, the scent of Marie’s blood replaced it. He couldn’t lose to this and in the last attempt tried to picture something he cared about, something that would help him hold onto his sanity.

Vanitas crept into his memory. His smile was gentle, very unlike him yet it was a nice thing to see. Noe wasn’t completely sure how to react to the image but it was comforting if only for a few moments. Slowly the human faded into the mist and his dream world mixed into reality pulling back like a curtain to reveal Marie with her outstretched hand.

In that moment he could only register one thing. He was so thirsty, he had never felt a thirst like it, and the more he denied it, the more his brain felt like it was itching. The itch got worse and worse. He wiped his mouth and stared at the open wound on the woman’s hand.

“Go on…take it” She smiled and Noe felt an overwhelming feeling of warmth. One step, two step. He had to try and fight it but the itch was too great.

The taste of the ruby was soothing and overcame him before he could stop it.

[notforonesecond]

Day 5 - "Americano and whatever she's having" he ignorantly shouted towards the counter, not bothering to look if there's a que, slumping into one of the comfy sofas. All Robert wanted was a quiet coffee, but Victoria had spotted him on the walk over here and insisted on joining. "Hot chocolate and a danish please, he's paying." She pointed towards her older brother before sitting in the facing chair. "So yeah, I'm thinking, those mini quesadillas and I'll make some salsa." "Mmm" he mumbled absentmindedly while looking at his phone. Victoria was rabbiting on about some diner thing she was doing at the weekend. He couldn't care less. "Ayyyy, he's cute isn't he?" "What?" Robert questioned at Victoria's change of conversation. "Behind the counter." Vic nodded her head in the direction behind Robert. "What? Bob?" His face turned in a disgusted frown. "No, the other lad" "Oh Duncan, yeah I'm training him up, look after the place for a bit while I go see Nikhill." Right on que, Bob being his usual nosey self butted into the conversation. Robert just shrugged and drank his coffee. :: It's a Tuesday morning, he's got a angry home James client barking off his ear, and he's running late for a meeting. "Americano. To go." He's blunt and rude, but he hasn't got time for manners today. As if his lack of politeness went un noticed, the younger, tanned lad behind the counter smiled largely, getting to work on his drink. "I promise you, you won't be disappointed." He finished the phone call quickly and grabbed the hot paper cup. "It's Duncan by the way." His phones ringing again loudly in his hand. It's Mr Bunton and he's late for their meeting. "Yeah thanks." He mumbles under his breathe while heading straight for the door. :: Victoria stood in the living room. She's fiddling with her hair in the mirror and she's a lot taller than usual. Heels. He confirms looking at her feet. "Where you off?" He asked, throwing himself on the couch and putting his feet up on the coffee table. "For a drink with Duncan" she kicks his feet off the table in a motherly manner. "I don't know who that is." He says, flicking through the channels on the TV. "The lad from the cafe" she tells him. "Didn't know you were back in the dating game" "I'm not" she corrects. "I've got just as much chance with Aaron as I have him I think." He flinches at the mention of his name. He hopes Victoria doesn't notice as she quickly says her goodbyes. :: He's had a long day at work, there's still a pile of paper work on his desk but he needs a break. He's the only one in the cafe. It's getting close to closing, and if he had any decency he would leave and let them close up. Nah. His eyes are fixated on his laptop as he reaches for his Americano, taking a sip. He feels the luke warm liquid dribble down his chin and onto his shirt "Fuck" he mumbled trying to mop up the mess with the back of his hand. 31 years of age and missing his fucking mouth. There's a sniggering coming from in front of him. The young lad from the cafe, stood above him. He looks ridiculous trying to hold back giggles. Probably not as ridiculous as Robert though. "Robert, isn't it?" He asked, passing him a few napkins. He just nods his head, gathering his belongings ready to leave. "Yeah, Vic told me about you the other night. I'm Duncan" he smiled, slinging a tea towel over his shoulder. Robert finished collecting his things in a fluster. "Yeah, nice to meet you Dylan" he shouts as he's out the door. :: It's a good day. He just worked his charm and closed a big deal with a client. Like he once said, it's a gift. It'd be a sin to sconder it. He swings the door to the cafe open, almost taking an old lady out with the force. He apologises. He reaches the counter, and opens his mouth before he's beaten to it. "Americano." Duncan confirms. "Yeah thanks" "You look cheery today" the younger lad makes small talk while aimlessly making Roberts coffee. "Good day?" "You could say that." Robert smiles. A rather large one as he's passed his coffee. "So...I-" Duncan begins but stops as the door of the cafe swings open. Robert turns to face the door, his shoulders tensing as the smile falls from his face. Aaron. He's out of the cafe quicker than he entered, wanting to avoid Robert at all costs. "Aaron?" He shouts after him as he throws money down on the counter and chases off towards the door. "Thanks Danny" he's throws over his shoulder as he leaves. :: Vic has convince him to join her for a few drinks at the pub. Sick of him moping around the house over Aaron were her exact words. He agrees, more because he can do with a drink rather than the company. They set up base in a booth. The drinks are flowing and he is actually enjoying himself a little. As if their fun was contagious, people begin to join. First it's Finn, sipping on sherry like a OAP and teasing Vitoria at any chance he gets. A short while after Pete takes a seat, pint in hand, complaining about an awkward cow. After a while, Victoria is waving towards the door, the guy from the cafe slopes in next to Robert, drink in hand. They make small minded talk for a while as a group. Victoria excuses herself to the bathroom as the Barton bothers get another round in. "So Vic mentioned something about going into town after this?" Duncan asks. Rob licks the foam away from his lip and sets his pint down on the table. He shrugs in response. "Maybe, see what happens." He adds He looks around the bar, feeling eyes on him. It's Aaron again, he's stood at the bar. He doesn't know how long he's been there for. His eyes are glued to Robert, before he shakes his head in detest and storms out the back door. The sadness turns to confusion as Robert watches him leave, running after Aaron once more. "What's all that about?" Aaron spits, not bothering to turn round as if it was obvious Robert was going to follow him. "What you on about?" He asks, brow furrowed. "You and Duncan?" Aaron turns to face him. "Who?" Robert asks, bewiddled by the outburst. "Don't play stupid with me Robert." "I'm not." is all he has a chance to reply before Aaron's storming off into the night air. :: He's feeling sorry for himself. He once said Sugdens don't do self pity, yet here he is. Bottle of whiskey in hand, making his way through the village to go drown his sorrows. "Hey, Robert" he hears a unfamiliar voice call, stopping him in his tracks. The guy from the cafe is making his way towards where he stood, not far from davids shop. "Yeah?" Roberts asks showing no interest. "You alright? I was wondering if-" "Listen Darrell, I-" "It's Duncan's, actually." The interruption stuns him a little. "Yeah, whatever. Listen I'm flattered and all-" There's a scoff and a laugh which stops Roberts in his tracks. "-You're not my type." He finishes, a little too arrogantly, wanting the conversation to be over. "Wow. You're the most self centred, egotistical person I've ever had the pleasure to come across. I was actually going to ask if you had Finns number, as you're not my type, I like my lads a little more modest. Enjoy your whisky." And with that, Robert was left in the middle of Main Street, cheeks tinting a slight shade of pink, mouth slightly hung open as he watched the young lad disappear up the road.

[tastesoftamriel]

A game of deceit (a long tale by Talviel)

I just wanted to thank everyone for your patience with this fic, I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting and I hope you enjoy it! ~Talviel

Fredas, 16th of Sun’s Dawn, 4E 208. I was in Daggerfall instead of Shornhelm, but on dry land and warm in a tavern. After spending almost an hour swimming after getting thrown off a cliff from the portal, I was rescued by a small fishing boat who hauled me up, soaking, cold, and exhausted. They carried me to the local Synod conclave in the city, where the healer made sure I was fit to stand up and walk again. The story of the portal became a laughingstock of the Synod, who explained to me that the College wasn’t wrong about using it, the only problem was that one had to visualise where the portal was meant to open onto. Arch Mage Brelyna had never been anywhere near High Rock, so she had probably just thought roughly of Daggerfall, and as a result the portal opened in a random area. A local farmhand discovered Roach wandering a few miles form the cliff, unremorseful that she had thrown her owner several meters down into the ocean. He brought her to the Daggerfall stables, where I found her lazily chewing on hay and impervious to my chastising. Soon word spread around the city about my mishap, and the running joke was that Daggerfall should be renamed Talvielfall. Not a great way to make a first impression. I slunk into a tavern to settle in and rub the last of the cold from my bones. “You’re the one that fell out of the sky, eh?” The innkeep said, handing me the key to my room. “Yes, that would be me. Word gets around fast here, it seems.” I sighed. “Well, you need anything, just give a holler. Get some warm food and drink in you.” He said, handing me a mug of ale. “That would be great, but I’m more interested in looking for a job, doing some Breton cooking.” “Eh? A mage, looking for a cooking class?” “I’m no mage, just a chef who made the mistake of dabbling in magic. Can you point me to any work or not?” The innkeep looked perplexed and rubbed his chin. “Well, we just serve standard tavern grub here. If you’ve got experience as a chef, I’d say you ought to make yourself known at the palace. They’re always looking for cooks there.” I thanked him and made my way to my room to unpack and hide from the eyes of the curious evening crowd who had begun to spill in for dinner. Sitting in bed and gnawing on a carrot, I flipped through my well-worn copy of Uncommon Taste. Finally, here was my chance to try my hand at real Breton cuisine. The next morning, I made my way to Daggerfall Castle. The looming stone fortress stood proud in its corner of the city, commanding a view of everything from the docks to the forest beyond. The guards admitted me, sniggering, saying the Count and Countess were eager to meet the stranger who fell from the sky. Blushing, I made my way into the bustling hall where they held court. When it was my turn to step forward, all heads turned to face me. “So, you’re the one who made that impressive entrance yesterday.” The Countess smiled. “I’m not sure about impressive, my Lady. Wet, and awkward, but not impressive.” “My subjects report seeing a large flash of violet light on the cliff nearby, followed by a figure who flew from the sky. Regardless of how you got here, you are welcome. Come to think of it, you…look familiar. Have we met before?” I scratched my head, unsure. “We might have. I’ve cooked at many palaces and residences across Tamriel, maybe we’ve met in passing?” “No, wait, I know you!” The Countess exclaimed. “You’re Talviel of Riften, the Dragonborn of Skyrim!” The room grew silent and every eye was trained on me. “You saved all of Tamriel, several years ago, if memory serves me correctly. Hard to mistake you, there have been tales and songs from every bard from Senchal to Camlorn about the silver haired woman who rose to Sovngarde to defeat Alduin the World Eater.” The Countess grinned. “Well, yes, that’s me.” I muttered, growing beet red.  "Dear, you listen to too many songs.“ The Count chastised. "This woman here could be anyone, maybe you did meet her at a feast somewhere, like she says?” “My Lord, your wife speaks true. I am the Dragonborn.” I said quietly, and the court grew silent. “Well, if you are who you say you are, prove it. We may have need of a warrior such as you.” The Count said sternly, and I cringed. I was there to cook, not to fight. “I hope you don’t mind me ruining your plants.” I sighed, taking a step back and aiming at a potted juniper bush, freezing it solid with a shout. Everyone gasped and several guards drew their swords. The Count and Countess stayed them with a wave of their hands. “You honour us with your presence, Dragonborn. Daggerfall bids you welcome. Do tell, what can we do for you today?” The Count said. “Well, my Lord, now that my days slaying dragons are done, I’ve taken up a more humble job. I’m a travelling chef now, and I heard that you required staff in your kitchens.” “You can freeze things solid with your voice, and you wish to…cook for us?” The Countess said, perplexed. “Well, yes, if you have room for me. I have recommendation letters from The Blue Palace, the Imperial City, and Senchal if you would like to see them.” “Indeed. Quite a change in career.” The Count chortled, looking through the letters I handed over. “Impressive resumé. We would be glad to employ you into our service, but we have…a small matter of security we would be most grateful for you to attend to, seeing that Tamriel’s greatest warrior is here at a very, very opportune time.” I sighed, shrugging with resignation, knowing I had no say in the matter. “There has been a problem here in Daggerfall of late, with the rise of the Thieves Guild. The problem isn’t so much the theft, it’s the fact that they’ve got ruthless mercenaries among their ranks. Good people have been dying for months now, trying to defend their homes and families, but this lot are a slippery bunch. We haven’t even been able to track down their headquarters or leader, and anyone who tries winds up…butchered, in the most ghastly manner. Truly despicable business. If you dispose of them, you will be more than welcome in our castle kitchens for as long as you wish, along with any guidance or training you require.” My stomach dropped. The Guild. They wanted to turn me on my own family. Of course, the Count and Countess were unaware of my full history, and probably for the better. But killers? This was probably yet another of the imposter guilds that Karliah was famous for weeding out. I needed to write to her immediately before jumping to conclusions. “Of course, I understand your concern regarding these bandits.” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I would be happy to assist, but I’ll need more information to go on before I can do anything.” “Certainly, I’ll pass you over to Hadrian, our Captain of the Guard. I apologise for throwing you into a dangerous situation right after you narrowly escaped drowning, but it couldn’t be more fortuitous that you’re here now, Dragonborn. These murderers need to be stopped.” I took my leave uneasily, and was guided to the barracks by a guard. She introduced me to Hadrian, a tall man with an aquiline nose and weather-beaten features. “So, I’m looking at a living legend. Wouldn’t think it, just by glancing at you.” He said gruffly, keen eyes peering at me beneath an ornate helm. “Yet nonetheless here you are, and in good time. Another woman struck down yesterday, for just a few septims and some jewellery. I hope you aren’t squeamish.” He said, and spread the contents of a large dossier out in front of me. I read through the sheaths of parchment, my gut churning. Phrases jumped out at me here and there. “Victim, 42, killed by harbour. Guts strewn across the beach.” “Victim, 26, found at home. Eyes removed from sockets and feet hacked off.” “Victim, 65, found in gutter by west boundary wall. Head caved in by blunt object.” I shut my eyes and put a hand over my mouth, feeling sick. “Yes, nasty piece of business.” Hadrian said.  "I can tell you something for certain, Captain. This isn’t the Thieves Guild. This doesn’t even look like the work of the Dark Brotherhood. It’s…too sadistic, even for them.“ "It’s the Guild, without a doubt. Every victim has had their Shadowmark painted in blood next to their bodies.” “I don’t know what kind of Guild does this, because Skyrim would be appalled. We- they, I mean, don’t murder. Never. It isn’t their way. If they need to eliminate marks they do it with subtlety. A piece of jewellery planted here, a ledger tampered with. But butchering people is the opposite of everything they stand for and whoever is behind these crimes is setting the Guild up to besmirch their name.” I choked out, rage building in me. “You seem to know an awful lot about the Thieves Guild.” Hadrian muttered, glaring suspiciously at me. “I’m from Riften. Everyone there, deaf and blind included, knows how the Guild operates.” I said quickly. “Well, regardless of who these people are, everyone in Daggerfall wants them gone. You have access to the information and my guards at your back. The rest is yours, Dragonborn.” I went back to the inn and scribbled a hasty note to Karliah, hoping she would have some information while I dug around for clues. I asked the innkeep for rumours, and he pointed me to several citizens, most of whom were friends, relatives, or neighbours of those who had been victims to the false Guild. Nothing in particular tied the murders together- it was seemingly random, and some of the victims only had a few septims to their names. It was frustrating work- a former thief I may be, but I was never much of a detective and from experience, any snooping around was probably going to result in an attempt on my life at the very least. I kept my head down and guard up, and spent my free time browsing the kitchens around Daggerfall. A few days passed and a courier brought me a reply from Karliah. Talviel, something sinister is at work in Daggerfall. Like you say, the crimes bear no link to the Guild, nor to Nocturnal. I’ve looked into it as much as I can but I’m tied up in Elsweyr at the moment and can’t make it to High Rock anytime soon. Get in touch with my contact at the southern docks, going by the name of Didier. He’s an agent of Nocturnal and may be able to get your investigation off the ground. Sorry I can’t help further, but we will get to to bottom of this and whoever is tainting the name of the Thieves Guild will pay. Eyes open, and walk with the shadows. -Karliah Burning the letter, I set off to the bustling southern docks to find Didier. It didn’t take me long to find him, after a few dock workers pointed me in the right direction- Didier was a well known and respected merchant working for the East Empire Company, and was in an office by the port. I donned my old Nightingale armour (much tighter than I’d last worn it after years of taste testing), and went to find him. Knocking on the door of a little stone building, I entered to find a balding Breton man in simple yet clearly expensive clothing going over a ledger with an Argonian. He looked up as I entered, eyes widening almost imperceptibly, and shooed her out of the office, locking the door behind her. “Sister in shadows. I presume Karliah sent you?” He said, shutting the blinds so that we stood in gloom. “You presume correctly. You must be Didier? I’m Talviel.” “I know who you are. The one who dropped off a cliff the other day then got roped in by the Count to look into these supposed Thieves Guild murders, no? For an agent of shadows, you’re rather…conspicuous.” He said, pursing his lips. “I put the Guild life behind me long ago, so spare me the chiding.” I sighed. “I just want to get to the bottom of this to clear the Guild’s name, and then get on with my life.” “Very well. We serve Lady Nocturnal and as I’m sure is obvious, these murders aren’t in style of her worshippers. I think there’s a Daedric influence behind this all, but I haven’t had the time to look into it until Karliah wrote to me.” I ran my fingers along the hilt of my blade- the one Karliah gave me all those years ago, that once belonged to her beloved Gallus. “You’re probably right, it reeks of the meddling of Daedric cultists. The problem is figuring out which one it is they serve.” I said. Didier lit a lantern and motioned for me to follow him to a back room. He rustled through a bookshelf, and pulled out a copy of The Book of Daedra. “Well, this is going to be a nice guessing game.” He said, flicking through the pages. “Senseless brutal murder? Possibly Molag Bal or Mehrunes Dagon. Mephala maybe? She likes her plots and deceit. But the crimes don’t really link up to any of the others, unless you have any better ideas.” We stood in silence in the flickering candlelight, deep in thought. “Wait. Someone wants to drag the Guild’s name through the mud. Someone violent, who likes suffering. Plotting, sedition…I think, and I’m pretty damn sure, that this has to be Boethiah’s doing.” I muttered, as the information clicked into place. I’d run into a cult of Boethiah back in Skyrim years ago, and it seemed to fit. “Hm, you may very well be correct, now that you mention it. Give me some time to follow this train of thought. Daedric worship has become rather distasteful in Daggerfall over the past century or so, so finding any names may take a bit of poking around. I’ll find you if I catch onto anything.” Didier said, tucking the book back onto the shelf. I nodded, turning to take my leave. “Shadows hide you.” I said, and left the building with my mind racing. As I made my way back into the city, a guard approached me. “Dragonborn? Captain Hadrian wishes to see you.” I sighed, following him to the barracks, when I realised with horror as I stepped through the door that I was in my Nightingale armour. It was obscure, and almost nobody in Tamriel had ever recognised it, but if Hadrian did, I was screwed. Hadrian was in the company of a few other guards, and they were all crowded around something on the opposite end of the room. They turned around to face me as I entered nervously, and Hadrian beckoned me over, looking peeved. “Well, Talviel of Riften, you’d better pick up the speed on your searching, because we’ve had yet another victim. In fact, the murderer decided to give this particular crime a bit of a…personal touch.” The guards parted, revealing a bloody sack on the ground. “Captain, I don’t think I want to look inside.” I grimaced, noticing a few of the others looking a bit green in the face. “I’ll save you the effort then. There’s a head in there, of a certain noblewoman known throughout Daggerfall for her love of ornate circlets and hair accessories. Well, her circlet’s been replaced with ebony shards nailed into her skull, and all her jewellery at home has been cleared out. So have you got any ideas, or are you just wasting our time?” He snarled. I felt a shudder run up my spine. Ebony. The material of the legendary armour bestowed upon Boethiah’s chosen. I was right. “Look, Captain, I’ve asked every lead I could find and I’ve come up with nothing. I’m an outsider, and somehow I doubt a murderer, or several of them, are going to make themselves known to me. I’m a chef, not a detective. I’ll keep at the investigation but at this stage, all I can promise is that I can fight, but not figure out who’s behind this.” I lied impulsively, surprising myself. Hadrian glowered at me, shaking his head. “Damn Nords, all you’re good for is fighting. My men and I will have to get to the bottom of this on our own then, if this is your attitude to the investigation. You are dismissed, citizen.” He turned away to speak to another guard, completely ignoring me, and I stormed from the barracks insulted. I had the lead they were missing, and something about the whole situation irked me. Who was behind the Boethiah cult, and why were they targeting the Thieves Guild? I went back to my room and peeled off my Nightingale armour, locking it away at the bottom of the trunk where I kept it hidden, wishing Brynjolf and Karliah were there for guidance. Uneasily, I realised I was in a precarious situation where my life was at stake for the first time, far from home and anyone I could call on for help. “Nocturnal guide me.” I sighed, heading to the kitchen where I helped prepare some Breton onion soup for supper. I brought my bowl to my room, eating without pleasure from the thought of dealing with the Daedra. Even the extra helping of melted Eidar cheese tartines that were used to dunk into the soup couldn’t help my mood. The lump of foreboding had settled in my gut, and I locked the door and shoved a chair under the handle before turning in for the night. Some time in the dead of night, my uneasy sleep was broken by creaking on the stairs. I quickly scrabbled for my sword and held my breath, as footsteps shuffled towards my room. I heard the lock being picked, and the door handle stuck against the chair. Moving to the far end of the room, I assumed a fighter’s stance and prepared to shout whoever was trying to break in back to where they came from. The handle thankfully stuck fast against the chair, and after what seemed to be an age, the break in attempt was thwarted and silence enveloped the room once more. Or so I thought. Without warning, the door was blasted through in a gout of flame and splinters. I raised a hand to shield myself as two figures barreled into the room. “Fus Ro Dah!” I yelled, and they were blasted back through the main corridor. I grabbed my sword and ran, kicking in the inn’s front door and bolting out into the street. I dashed towards the castle, seeing the torches of guards on patrol. “Hail, citizen. Are you alright?” The first one I reached asked, as I skidded to a halt in front of him, panting. “Captain Hadrian. I need to see him at once. This is…this is regarding the case we’re working on, someone’s out to get me.” The guard stared at me as if I’d gone mad. “The Captain is likely asleep, so this will have to wait til morning. If you need protection I suggest you come this way to the barracks to make your report.” I breathed a sigh of relief and started to follow the guard, when out of nowhere a heavy blow smashed into the back of my skull and everything went black. Eventually I came to, my ears ringing and my head pounding as if a minotaur had hit it with a hammer. I panicked, unable to see. A gag had been stuffed into my mouth, and I could feel my arms shackled, while the rest of my body was limp on the ground. There was no indication of where I was or who had abducted me. Unable to shout, and with my sword missing, I was utterly unable to fight, even if I could somehow wiggle out of the shackles. I gave my wrists a tentative tug, and felt a hard blow to my ribs that made me gasp for air. “She’s awake. Better hurry up and carry her to the altar.” A muffled voice said. Male. My hands were uncuffed yet before I could reach up to pull the blindfold from my eyes, they were pinned behind me and I was wrenched painfully to my feet. “Move.” I was shoved forward and blindly shuffled, as my captor dragged me along. Blundering along, I bumped into rough stone stairs and nearly fell, but was dragged along laboriously, my captor grunting as we made our slow ascent. This was my chance. Without warning, I let myself tumble backwards, and he let go of my arms to break his own fall. I rolled down the flight of stairs painfully, scrambling to my feet before I had even stopped moving and ripped off the blindfold and gag. The thug who’d been shoving me around came charging towards me, swearing. Knowing that I needed to save my shouts, I braced myself and quickly sidestepped as he lunged at me. He fell to the ground, and I leapt forward and pinned him down, bashing him as hard as I could. When he stopped wriggling, I stood with one foot on the back of his head, the other balanced on his back. We were in a cave of some sort, and the stairs we’d fallen down had been carved into the rock that led into a dark awning above. “Alright, s'wit. Who the hell are you, and why am I here?” I snarled, shoving my boot into the back of the man’s head.

“You’re meant to be a bloody sacrifice innit? They warned me you’d be strong but fuck right off!” The man said, his voice muffled slightly as his face was pressed against the floor. “Who is ‘they’, and what am I meant to be the sacrifice for?” “I ain’t saying nuffin. My orders was to get you up to that altar, collect me gold, and get on me way 'ome.” The man said, and I stepped off his back, giving him a good kick to the ribs as payback for earlier. He howled, and I rolled him over to get a better look at him. To my surprise, it was the stablehand who had been tending to Roach while I was in town, named Pod. “Shor’s beard.” I muttered, as he staggered to his feet. “Pod, isn’t it? Well you’d better be treating my horse better than you’ve treated me right here, because if I had something sharp I’d have sawn your balls off by now.” I spat, and he cowered. “Easy, easy. I was just 'ere to make some coin, didn’t want nuffin to do with the ritual itself.” “My patience is running thin, Pod. I’ll rip your balls off with my bare hands if I have to, or burn you to a crisp with a shout. Start. Talking. Now.” “Boethiah! It’s for Boethiah! I’m the new initiate so they made me do all the dirty work! You’re the sacrifice, them lot are waiting for you at the top of the stairs and if I don’t get you up there in a moment they’ll have me 'ead!” “Better. Look, I suggest you run home as fast as your miserable legs can take you, because I have bigger fish to fry. I’ll deal with you later, don’t you worry. Where’s my sword?” Pod hastily went back to the room where I’d been held and unlocked a chest, tossing the blade at me and bolting before I had time to change my mind and cut him down where he stood. I growled under my breath and made my way up the stairs noiselessly, sticking to the shadows. Peeping around the corner into blackness, I crouched and snuck forward, blade drawn. Feeling cool air blowing from somewhere, I followed along the narrow stone corridor that sloped upwards gradually, to its source. A huge shrine, carved in the likeness of Boethiah, was set into a rock face and was illuminated by pyres on either side. At its base was a stone altar, with a strange contraption that ran from its middle to a pillar set in a carved stone circle, around which there stood four figures in hooded robes, blissfully unaware of my presence. “That dimwit better hurry up, I’m freezing my balls off up here.” “It’ll be worth it. Boethiah will reward us greatly for this whole plot once it’s over with. Dispatching the former leader of the Thieves Guild is one thing, the fact that she’s the Dragonborn just makes it better. Patience, brother.” Creeping in the shadows like a cat, I tried to figure out how best to reveal my would-be assassins. My first instinct was to shout the bastards into flames, but if I knew which one was the ringleader, I could march him back to the Castle and this whole sordid affair would be over with. A breeze brushed my ear, carrying a disembodied whisper. “Good, turn and smite them. The tides will turn for my amusement. Plots and deceit, one after the other. I know you, mortal. Do it.” I gritted my teeth. Boethiah knew I was here, but hadn’t tipped off the others. So this whole scheme was a farce, for me to turn around and ruin the carefully planned scheme of besmirching the name of the Thieves Guild and assassinating the Dovahkiin? Typical Daedra. I seethed in silence, trying to figure out my next move. Either way, the odds were rigged against me. This had been Boethiah’s plan all along. “I have been watching you for a long time, Talviel of Riften. This…most intricate play of mine has run its course. You have no choice but to be my Champion. Only you are worthy. Kill them all, Boethiah wills it.” Not happening. I thought to myself, as I sneaked closer to the altar, preparing to spring on the four figures. I’m an agent of Nocturnal and instead of spending my afterlife in Sovngarde, I’ll be lurking in the Ebonmere as her slave. Damned if I’ll serve another Daedric Prince ever again. The laughter only I could hear rang out over the shrine. “Say what you will. You’re all my puppets, in the end.” I drew my sword and slid forward, stabbing the nearest worshipper in the back of the knee. He let out a keening howl and dropped to the ground, as the remaining three whirled around to face…nothing. Under the Shadowcloak of Nocturnal, I was invisible, but I had to work quickly before the spell wore off. “Who’s there? Pod? What’s going on?” A woman’s voice chimed out from beneath the heavy hood she wore to conceal her identity. Magic sparked off every hand as they formed a tight circle, scanning for me. Fuck, I hated fighting against magic.

Leaping into the dim candlelight, I ducked and weaved against my opponents, slashing with care. Before I could kill them, I wanted to know who they were. I jumped and skewered one of them through the hand, pinning him to the ground and stopping the stream of fire he blasted at me. The woman summoned a storm atronach with the wave of a hand, and the last figure, tall and menacing under their hood, produced a crooked staff that glowed with an unwelcoming green light. Swearing, I had no choice but to move as deftly as I could to cut them down before they fried me alive. “Kill her! For Boethiah, kill her!” The tall one yelled, and they came at me in full force. I leapt between gouts of green flames and lightning and deadly shards of ice, trying not to panic. These mages were strong. If they cornered me, I was fucked. Scaling the statue of Boethiah, I used the rock to protect me as I caught my breath. Carefully taking aim, knowing that I only had one shot, I aimed for the woman and hurled my blade towards her. It struck her in the shoulder and she screamed as the tip burst through her robes in a spray of blood and bone. She crumpled to the ground and I dashed to retrieve my sword to finish the last worshipper. “Enough, Dragonborn! You cannot win, Boethiah is with me!” A vaguely familiar voice called out from beneath the hood, as we circled one another, the air crackling with magic and blood. “Show yourself, coward. Boethiah has spoken to me and this is all part of their plan. You’re a fool and played right into her hands, they’ve been waiting for me to kill you all along.” I hissed, dodging a blast from the staff the figure carried. “Lies! You act the valiant hero, the Dragonborn who saved Tamriel from doom, when all you are is a common criminal, a thief! You’re worth no more than as a sacrifice to Boethiah, and even then that’s too good of an end to your miserable life!” “So that’s what it’s about, gaining my trust so you can stab me in the back? Well you’ve been fooled to Oblivion and back. You trusted Boethiah, and now they’ve sent me to end you for her entertainment. But I’ll do no such thing. You’re far more valuable to me alive when I bring you to face the court’s justice, Captain Hadrian.” “Just you try, worm. I’ll have you pinned to that sacrifice pillar and gain Boethiah’s blessing as their Champion.” He snarled, and charged at me. So that’s what the contraption was. If either of us made contact with it, we would be the sacrifice and Boethiah would get what she wanted. I couldn’t let him touch it, but needed to find a way to incapacitate the Captain. If only I could get his staff… Hadrian tried to back me into the rock face, but I was quicker. A blast of green flame singed my right leg and I quickly rolled to the ground to put it out, but he had leapt on top of me. Pushing against his staff as hard as I could with my blade, I tried to knock him back, but he was bigger and stronger than me. Biting back the urge to shout, I knew I had to save my Thu'um if I was going to get us back to Daggerfall in one piece. I curled my knees beneath me and in one swift motion, bashed the Captain in the stomach. He let out a loud “Oof” and I rolled out from under his grasp, staggering to my feet before he could catch his breath. Grabbing his staff from his momentarily limo hands, I whacked him hard across the back of his head with it, accidentally sending a blast of green flame into the sky. He groaned and tried to climb to his feet, but I hit him again until he stayed down and limp. Hopefully I hadn’t killed him, but I had nothing to restrain him with and needed to move quickly before he came to. Finally, my part of the escape plan and what I had been saving my energy for had come. “Odahviing!” I shouted, wrenching Hadrian up by the hood and staggering as I tried to support his limp body with mine. After what seemed like an age, the sky cracked and the roar of a dragon filled the night. “Dovahkiin, far from home you are, but here I am.” My old friend thundered, his wings kicking up a fierce wind as the remaining worshippers screamed from where they lay. “Fahdon, I wasn’t sure you’d come! Quickly, we need to get this imbecile out of here. I don’t care about the rest. Burn this shrine to the ground. Boethiah doesn’t deserve her power here.” “Thuri, as you command.” Odahviing landed with a ground-shaking thud as I climbed onto his back, hauling the unconscious Captain after me. With a flap of his wings we were airborne, and Odahviing let out the Thu'um in only the way a dragon can. “Yol Toor Shul!” He screeched, and the entire shrine went up in flames. “Fool! Nocturnal’s whore!” I heard Boethiah call as the very stones melted from the altar and sacrifice post. “Better to serve Lady Nocturnal than a spiteful snake like you.” I said under my breath, as we were carried to Daggerfall under the light of the waning moon. As we soared over Daggerfall Castle, I screamed at the guards to stop their attack as arrows and spells flew and ricocheted off Odahviing’s thick, ancient scales. We landed in the courtyard, scattering a handful of terrified soldiers who had assembled. “This is Talviel of Riften, with the murderer who has been terrorising Daggerfall. Do not harm my dragon friend, as I wouldn’t be here without him. I demand to see the Count and Countess at once.” I called out as commandingly as I could. “Cease fire!” One of the soldiers shouted, and the courtyard grew deadly silent as I climbed off my old friend’s back, dropping Hadrian unceremoniously on the ground. “Thank you, Odahviing. I’m in your debt.” “Pah, nii lost nid, Dovahkiin. Summon the Thu'um, and the Dov shall answer.” He lifted off back into the air, and screeched a parting shout that made the entire assembly of guards cringe. With his hood still drawn over his face, Hadrian’s identity was concealed. I had him shackled and dragged into the Castle without question, his Second in Command looking nervous as he scuttled to wake the steward and the Count. Groggily, they all stumbled to the throne room, where Hadrian lay face down on the ground, groaning as he came to. Pulling the hood from his wretched head, everyone gasped as I recounted my findings and what had happened over the past few hours. Hadrian seethed, calling me a liar, but the odds were against his favour. He was hauled to the dungeon to await further trial in the morning. “And what of Boethiah?” The Countess asked, concerned. “You know the Daedra. Sooner or later they’ll be back. I’d send some guards to apprehend Pod at the stables, if he hasn’t already fled. The last three at the shrine I didn’t get a look at, but it was a woman and two men.” “What happened to them?” The Count said, looking exhausted and worried at Hadrian’s betrayal. “My dragon friend roasted them alive and the shrine is destroyed. I’m sure that Hadrian will give up their identities if you question him hard enough.” “And question him we shall. Talviel of Riften, I name you friend to Daggerfall. You have risked your own life to save our people and for this, you have our gratitude. What would you wish of us in return?” The Count asked. I smiled wanly, wanting nothing more than to go to bed and forget this whole ordeal and bloody Boethiah. “Well, a nice long sleep would be first on the list. But how about that spot in your kitchens like you promised?”

[itsallavengers]

(this is my first time sending an ask on tumblr so this is a huge win for my anxious self) about your body guard AU- does Steve find out that its Obie selling under the table, not Tony? what would Steve do to him? also do the events of IM1 still happen in this AU?

UH I MISSED THIS ASK I’M SO SORRY AND LIKE. I WAS LOWKEY FINISHED WITH THIS AU BUT I WANTED TO ANSWER BECAUSE! I’M PROUD AND DIDN’T WANT U TO BE IGNORED ON UR FIRST GO AT ANON. 

So I like,,, planned out this whole fic just in case someone decided to bid for me  and yes. I decided that this would indeed include the events of IM1. With a few changes, of course.

Firstly, at the point where Tony gets taken, he’s already found out about Steve’s other life. It all came out after Steve apparently got ‘confirmation’ that the tipoff about Tony dealing under the table was true.

He’d stared at the text Natasha had sent him for a very long time, because he basically couldn’t believe it. He had been... he’d been so sure Tony was innocent. He’d have staked his life on it. Hell; he’d already decided to give up his assassin lifestyle in favour of Bodyguarding Tony.

And of course- there was the whole ‘I’m mad in love with you’ thing that Steve had going on. After deciding to let Tony in just a little bit, it really hadn’t taken much to fall hopelessly for the man. 

Because he was good. Steve had been positive of that. He’d been completely and utterly convinced. He’d been...

An idiot.

He’d let Tony worm his way in, lie to him, manipulate him so that he’d trust him. Love him. God- it was every trick in the book that Steve had written, and he’d fallen for it all, hook line and sinker.

And really, it should have been his job. To just take Tony out, there and then. He was closest, he was easiest. He could just put a bullet in the back of his head and walk right out, because at that point everyone trusted him. 

But he hadn’t been able to. Because despite the realisation, despite every lie and false pretence Tony had kept up around him- he knew that at the end of the day, he would never be able to hurt him. Not ever- God, the thought alone made him feel sick to his stomach. 

He tells Clint to deal with it, and hates how much it takes him to just get the words out, to tell him to do the job that Steve had gone in there for in the first place. It takes him an hour and a half just to dial, and even then, he just finishes with a short “I can’t” before slamming down on the end call button. Clint would know what it meant.

After a huge fight, where he lets every bit of raw emotion out on Tony, he slams the door and leaves for good. Tony- completely bewildered and an expression like he’d just been stabbed- had barely even gotten a word in edgeways before Steve had taken his duffel and walked out of his life- no more bodyguarding for the mass-murderer, no more cooking him breakfast and hiding a laugh behind his hand when Tony made a joke while on the job-

No more. He was done. It was over, and he’d learnt his lesson.

Except he can’t let it slide.

He can’t... Tony was so good. And it was near impossible to keep something like that up unless you were a complete sociopath, which he knew how to spot anyway. 

It didn’t make sense, and it was eating at Steve.

So he trawls. He scrapes meticulously, carefully, through every single byte of data Natasha sent him. Doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, just searches and searches and looks at the clock, counting down the moments until Clint takes the shot.

There’s thirty minutes left when Steve finally finds it.

The hidden data, buried and encrypted and completely invisible unless you were looking as hard as Steve had been- but there. Real. Proof.

Tony was innocent.

And clint was about to kill him.

Steve calls him 18 times in 3 minutes whilst driving very illegally to Stark Towers, leaving messages, voicemails, all of them the same.

We made a mistake don’t kill him he’s innocent don’t kill him he’s innocent Clint please answer please we made a mistake I was wrong we were all wrong I’m begging you don’t kill him he’s innocent-

Clint calls back, 7 minutes and 54 seconds later, saying he’s got the message, calm down Steve- but he couldn’t have done it anyway. Because Tony hadn’t been seen since Steve left, and although Clint had been looking for three days, there was still no sign of him.

Steve remembers every threat, every creepy admirer and downright scary assholes he had had to protect Tony from during his time as a bodyguard at that moment, in vivid detail.

His legs don’t give out, but it’s a near thing.

And for the next 34 hours, 18 minutes, him and his team search every corner of New York until they locate Tony.

He’s at a nightclub in Queens, and when Steve slams in, he can barely see for the cigarette smoke and flashing lights around him. In fact, it’s Peggy who spots him first- she grabs Steve’s attention across the room as she yells at the man sat next to Tony, telling him to let go of Tony’s waist before she slams his head into the table.

When Steve notices the man leer and shake his head, turning until he’s facing Tony’s face and licking up his face, it takes him two and a half seconds to cross the room and do Peggy’s job for her. His head goes right through the table, and he doesn’t even think twice about it.

Tony’s looking at him, his face empty and blank. His eyes are glassy, and he’s either high or wasted, or maybe a mixture of the two.

It’s Steve’s fault. 

They take him back home, and Steve puts him in their beat up truck while Bucky gets in the front and starts driving, face like thunder.

All the way through the ride home, Tony just leans against Steve’s shoulder and stays absolutely silent, no matter what Steve says, no matter what they do.It’s like he doesn’t even believe they’re there at all. 

At one point, he slowly pushes himself up and looks at Steve- blank and numb and nothing like Steve had ever seen before- and then presses his mouth into Steve’s, grabbing him by the collar and draping himself over his lap. It’s messy and laced with the taste of alcohol, and when Steve gently pushes him off, Tony just goes right back to leaning against his shoulder. Like a robot. Like...

Steve doesn’t want to think about what it’s like. 

He just holds Tony against him and presses his mouth against Tony’s hair, quietly apologising into the dark strands, desperate and spiked with horrible, horrible guilt.

The others try and tell him it’s not his fault that they got false information.Steve doesn’t believe any of them. 

Tony barely even registers him, even when he’s right there. And it’s because of what he did, what he said- he dug into whichever spot he could find that hurt, because he knew Tony, he knew him so well that it was almost too easy to hit at the most painful places. And at that moment, when he’d felt hurt and betrayed and like he’d been played a fool by a man who was nothing more than a money-hungry murderer, he hadn’t given a damn about what sort of vitriol had fallen out of his mouth.

He’s never wanted to turn back time more in his entire life. 

They put Tony to bed, and the others leave, but Steve remains. He sits on the couch in the living room, trying to nap and failing.

He knows he has to come clean to Tony. It’s the only way he’ll be able to get Tony to understand why he said what he did. Why he walked out.

He knows that once he tells Tony why they crossed paths in the first place, he’ll never see Tony again. And the thought alone feels like being shot in the heart, it feels like an icy burn across his chest, but he knows it’s what he deserves. 

He’s an assassin. Sent to kill Tony. Even if now, the thought made him want to gather Tony up and make sure no-one hurts him ever, ever again, that didn’t change the fact that that was what he had been out to do at the start. And it makes him hate himself more than he has ever done before in his life- knowing how badly he must have breached Tony’s trust, which was a sacred gift to receive in the first place.

The next time he snaps out of his own self-destructive thoughts, it’s because Tony is stood in front of him, looking like shit and staring at Steve as if he’s not sure he exists.

Steve tells him. Everything. 

Somewhere along the line, Tony starts crying, and it feels like the bottom just dropped out of Steve’s world. It feels like every ounce of self-loathing, every scrap of guilt and remorse and horrible feeling just got rolled into one concentrated ball and shoved like a blunt object straight through Steve’s soul, but he can’t stop. Tony deserves to know.

He begs Tony to forgive him, tries to convince him that it might have been a game at the start, but Steve had been fully willing to give up his job as an assassin to be with Tony, because he loved him, and Tony had to know that, even if he didn’t believe it. 

When Steve has finished, Tony doesn’t say anything for a very long time. Just looks at him. 

He says some things, after that. Words intended to hurt, to dig and bury themselves in Steve’s already battered heart in the same way they must have done for Tony, when it was Steve saying them.

Tony tells Steve to go. Says if he ever sees Steve again, he’ll call the cops and use every ounce of sway he has to put Steve and his team in jail for the rest of their lives. Says he hates Steve, and that whatever Steve felt for him, it certainly wasn’t returned.

‘You were just a bodyguard to me, Steve. A hot bodyguard, yeah, but that’s it. And hey- turns out you weren’t even that, in the end, didn’t it?’

Steve tries, one last time. This time it’s him crying, but Tony is just glaring at him, face devoid aside from the sharp lines of his gritted teeth.

Before Steve goes, he tells Tony to hire someone new. A real bodyguard, because someone sent Steve in the first place, and they’re still out there. And the thought of anyone putting their hands on Tony again, when he’s not there to stop them because Tony won’t let anyone near him again...

Tony tells him to fuck off.

Steve leaves.

Months pass.

He and the team keep guard of Tony. Because while Steve had been lying to protecting him, the others had actually gotten to like the guy.

Of course they would. Tony was like sunlight. 

Tony does hire someone new, in the end. Guy called Happy Hogan. Steve doesn’t think he’ll be good enough.

Then again- he wouldn’t be happy unless it was him with Tony.

And that isn’t ever going to happen. Ever.

It’s 9 months later when Tony gets kidnapped.

And Steve can’t describe the feeling of it, really. Maybe an apt description was like someone had just taken his body and stretched, until everything felt like it was tearing apart, agonising and burning inside him.

He punches the wall five times, and breaks his hand in seven places. Bucky, Clint and Natasha have to all team up to wrestle him to the floor, in the end.

A few days later, Steve goes to the only person he knows will want to find Tony as much as he himself does.

Rhodey’s first port of call is to punch him in the face and tell him to fuck off.

Steve comes back the next day.

Rhodey punches him again.

Steve comes back.

Another punch in the face.

Again. Again. Again.

And his face is black and blue, the rest of his team are cracking their knuckles and telling him to let go, but he won’t, he won’t sit and twiddle his damn thumbs when Tony needs him.

It takes 9 punches to the face and a broken nose before Rhodey finally talks to him.

It’s two black eyes and a fractured rib before Rhodey finally lets up and allows Steve to join the search.

They look for three months. By that time, the rescue funds have been cut and they’re down to the bare minimum.

Everyone thinks Tony Stark is dead.

But not Steve. Steve knows, he knows Tony, he knows that the bastard is out there, and he’s going to wander back to them any day now, asking for coffee or a burger because he is an asshole and-

This time it’s only Rhodey who can wrestle him away from the wall. The rest of his team are hundreds of miles away.

It’s a few days later when then they finally see someone.

It’s Tony.

He’s real and alive and sunburnt as fuck, stumbling in the desert with a shirt on his head as he waves desperately to the helicopter, and Steve immediately makes to leave, to fetch him, to do whatever the fuck needs to be done- but Rhodey pushes him back, growling and hissing under his breath about not wanting Tony to think he’s hallucinating.

Rhodey goes out for him instead. Steve waits in the chopper, and his feet are burning. He wants to go out there, he wants to check Tony for all his injuries, kiss them all reverently and hold his hand, feeling him there, real and alive and sunburnt as fuck.

He knows it’s not his place. That he shouldn’t even be there in the first place, but he’s selfish, what can he say- he needs to see Tony. needs to know that he’s okay, like the way he needs air to breathe or food to survive.

Tony finds his eyes first.

“I died, didn’t I?” He asks, a little sadly, and then “Sure, you were an assassin, but somehow I don’t doubt for a second that you’d turn out to be a fucking angel too.”

“I... what?” Steve chokes on his words, unable to believe that he’s actually speaking to Tony for the first time in nine months.

Tony shrugs, and then winces as it hurts him. “You. You impossible man- the assassin sent to kill me, who I was dumb enough to fall in love with- would not be here if I were alive.”

Steve’s heart is doing the dropping thing again as he looks at Tonys chest, at his sad eyes and bloody hands and-

he’s crossed the room and gently, oh so very gently pulled Tony into his arms before anyone can argue with him. And Tony just sighs and wraps his hands around Steve’s back, still unbelieving, but Steve won’t let him think that, he can’t, so he curls his fingers around Tony’s jaw and tilts his head, until Tony is looking directly into his eyes.

“Your favourite colour is purple, but you say it’s red. You tap out curse words in binary when you’re bored. You have tennis balls stored in your workshop so that I could play fetch with Dum-E. You hate peanut butter. I am very real, Tony, and I swear to you, you are not dead.”

Tony blacks out in his arms.

After the initial panic, Tony is pulled into medical,and continues to sleep until they’re an hour off their destination. Steve steadily refuses to leave his side through it all- even when Rhodey punches him again.

Apparently that one had just been for fun- but it didn’t do much, Steve just got another black eye and got on with it. 

When Tony wakes up, Steve’s there.

And once he finally comes around to the idea that yes, he is actually alive, Steve is actually corporeal, and he actually escaped, he turns to watch Steve for a long time again; the same intense stare he’d used on him the day that he’d told Steve to leave his life forever.

Steve is convinced they’re about to have a repeat performance.

But Tony just... finds his hand. And holds it.

Steve doesn’t say anything- but he grasps on Tony’s hand like it’s the only thing anchoring him to the rest of the world.

In the end, Steve breaks the silence first- telling Tony he quit, as did the rest of the team, and they decided to open up a coffee shop instead. In turn, Tony tells him it was Obie who dealt the weapons, and that after shutting down the weapons productions, he made sure Stane was thrown in jail for a very long time.

Steve says he already knows. Tony raises an eyebrow. Steve tells him that he kept up with what happened with Tony, after he left. Tony looks a little surprised, but doesn’t say anything.

They hold hands until they have to land, and then Rhodey shoves him aside to help him off. 

Pepper and the rest of Steve’s team are waiting for him at the landing pad. They have coffee and burgers for him, and they give them to Pepper before backing away a little. 

Except Tony calls out to them, and they turn around to see Rhodey steering Tony toward them, a stubborn tilt to his chin as he faces them all.

“Does Steve love me?” He asks them bluntly, when they get within range.

Bucky just laughs, and rolls his eyes as Steve’s jaw drops and he makes bug eyes at Tony’s back.

“Is the sky blue?” He replies, before stepping forward and opening his arms a little, asking permission. His face is worried and a little sheepish, but when Tony nods, Bucky breaks out into a happy little beam and steps forward; pulling him in with the same gentle touch Steve had used.

“Right,” Tony swallows, patting Bucky’s shoulder before stepping away and turning around again, facing Steve. “Uh. Well. That’s certainly news.”

“It shouldn’t be,” Steve says bluntly. “Tony, I loved you from the first month of knowing you. For the past year, it’s pretty much consumed me. I know you don’t want anything to do with me, and I do not blame you for that at all, but I just needed you to know-”

He’s cut off when Tony leans forward and wraps his uninjured hand around Steve’s neck, pulling him in and silencing his fast-moving mouth with a kiss.

“Good,” he says against Steve’s mouth, and Steve can feel the smile against his lips, “because I had a bit of a wakeup call while I was in those caves, and I realised that I can’t just let good things slip through my fingers because I’m too stubborn to 

The team whoops, and Rhodey is giving him a glare that promises the shovel-talk of his life, but Steve doesn’t even care, he just pulls Tony in as close as he’ll reach and buries his head into the other man’s shoulder, stifling his sudden wave of tears against the warm skin. “Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re safe, I love you, I’m so glad, I’m so-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay Steve. Just breathe. I’m here. And I’m not leaving,” Tony says, hand stroking through Steve’s short hair as Steve holds him up.

“I love you,” Steve says again, just for good measure.

Tony smiles, and again, Steve is hit with just how bright Tony really is. Like sunlight.

“It took us long enough, didn’t it?” He says quietly, kissing the tip of Steve’s nose.

Steve does end up finding Obadiah.

After hiring the Ten Rings to take Tony out, he used the remaining cash to buy his way out of prison, fleeing to Cuba where Steve ended up tracking him.

Since leaving his old life behind to work the coffeeshop, he hadn’t touched a gun, let alone fire one.

Luckily, old habits die hard.

There was only one bullet left in the pistol Steve had picked up, but one was enough. He intended to do most of it in a more... hands-on fashion, anyway.

Honestly, considering Steve had prepared for resistance from any guards or traps set in place, it all felt remarkably anti-climatic. Stane barely had time to fumble at the gun holstered to his side before Steve had grabbed him by the throat and thrown him across the room, sending him smashing into the wall at speed. 

A kick down, dislocating the jaw and preventing any cries for help. Twist of the wrist, and out came the bone from its joint, along with the gun from his hand. Punch to the face, just for good measure more than anything. Drive and drive and drive, a constant downpour of punches and snaps until the scum who had sold Tony out to the terrorists was nothing more than a bloody mess of a man, looking at Steve with pleading eyes.

Steve shot him in the head, because he was kind. Any semblance of life left Stane’s eyes immediately, and he slumped against the floor.

Peggy and Clint were coming in to deal with the body (Stane was on vacation- small aircraft, such poor safety record. A tragic accident), and Steve was done here. His last target accounted for.

He pulls out his phone and dials, a smile already on his face. 

“Hey babe, sorry, I just got out of a meeting- how was your day-”

*If any of you want to see more from this au (that sounds rlly weird and threatening whoops sorry), or just fancy prompting me for a fic of your choice, you can bid for me > here 

[brallonsin]

http://beeisatthedisco.livejournal.com/1182.html

The Side Effects of Being HumanChapter 3: Boys, Boys, Boys. “Ryan…” I gasp as I palm my cock through the lace panties, feeling so constricted and perfect and yes, I do work at the lingerie store for the discount. My hips are raising to meet my hand as I begin to feel goosebumps peppering my skin, spread naked across my couch. I hate Ryan Ross. I hate him. I hate, hate, hate him. It’s been a week since I’ve gotten off, two weeks since I last saw Ryan Ross. And he’s still invading my alone time. Fucking great. It is great though, that’s the problem. My cock is out of the panties now, the firm, fast strokes, it’s fucking amazing. My eyes slide shut, and I bite on my lip slightly as I move up to fuck my fist. I finally give in and let my mind fill with explicit images. I’m too far gone to stop myself. I wonder if he’d really like me like this, spread out for him, whimpering and writhing in lingerie, moaning his name… I bet he would. It’s almost too much as I imagine his hands on my hips again. Maybe they’d be there long enough to leave bruises this time. “Oh… fuck!” I mumble, my eyes rolling to the back of my head. My toes are curling, and my orgasm is building up, oh god, yes… “Honey, I’m hoooome!” my heart almost stops in my chest as the door swings open and there’s Dallon, eyes wider than I’ve ever seen, frozen still and staring. Staring at my hard cock peeking out of bright red, lace lingerie. Fan-fucking-tastic. I freeze too as our eyes meet, my cock twitching painfully in my hand, so desperate that I let out a whine. Fuck. I grab the covers and pull them over me, cock protesting now there’s nothing touching it, I shake my head. He wasn’t supposed to be home from work till way later, he must be back for lunch. “Dallon, seriously. I need this, so go. Go!” I order him, not caring much for dignity right now as the sweat drips down my forehead. Dallon just nods, out of shock, I assume and rushes past me into his bedroom, a few seconds later and music is blaring from the other side of his door. I’m too close to my orgasm to be humiliated. Moments later I regain composure and put a little more lube over my aching dick, I’ll have to build up to it again but it’s been too long and I need this and shit… Finally. The pressure is back on my dick and I moan, trying not to picture Dallon looking at my cock but I can’t help it. I’m such a sick fucker, damn it Brendon. Slick, fast movements and I build up again, a few minutes in and my hand stills as I listen to little moans coming from my roommates bedroom. Shit. I come thinking about Dallon Weeks jerking off. Listening to Dallon Weeks jerking off. Better than coming whilst thinking about Ryan, though, I suppose. I already did that last week and I would rather not stoop so low as to do it twice. I bet Ryan only comes to the thought of himself. Psh. * * * Another misty Saturday night, the air is cold and I can see my breath as I lock up our apartment. Dallon and I avoid eye contact and make awkward small talk whilst we walk to the gay bar, Boys/Boys/Boys and I briefly wonder if Ryan will be there this week and if so if he’ll be as much of an asshole as he was last week. There’s a small line this time, it’s getting more popular. We join the line and I watch Dallon as he absently hums to the quiet music from inside the building, he can just make it out and gosh, he has a nice voice. His adams apple bobs as he swallows and it goes straight to my dick. I am a slut. Brendon Urie, everybody, the slut. I remind myself it’s been a good few months since I’ve had sex, that’s why I’m beginning to find everyone around me hot as hell. Or maybe it’s just because they are hot as hell. Speaking of… Gabe is already grinning as he joins us in the line, placing a large hand on my hip and sandwiching me between him and Dallon. His eyes are dark and wide as he and the other man make conversation over my head, he’s on something, at least I think he is. I hope he is. Last time Gabe was on something he tried to suck my dick and I think this time I’d have to take him up on it. “You look pretty tonight, querido…” a hot voice dances over my ear as I’m pulled closer to his side, I grin. He’s on something. I look up, his smile is devious and expectant and my eyes fall from it down the sharp lines of his body and back up again. Yeah, I’d take him up on it. * * * The bar is too hot, I’m sweating again but I couldn’t care less because not only am I five drinks down but I also have Dallon one side of me, my ass playfully pushing back against him and Gabe the other side, our chests pushed close together and fuck, I love my friends. I try not to remember the gorgeous sounds I heard coming from Dallon’s room just yesterday but his breath on the back of my neck is making it harder. My eyes are on Gabe’s chewed up lip and I watch his long tongue swiftly lick over the tiny hint of redness. I excuse myself when it all get a bit much. We’re not drunk enough for this. Yet. “Three jager bombs, please…” I almost forget about Ryan. Almost until another voice appears next to me at the bar. 
“Make that four.” he corrects the bartender, giving me a sweet grin as if to say ‘My treat’. I roll my eyes, I don’t need Ryan Ross and his stupid money paying for my drinks. Or not paying, as the case appears to be, why does he get so many free drinks? He looks good, admittedly, glowing eyes framed by smudged, kohl liner and a killer smile. I look around, no blonde girl, no William, just Ryan. “I wanted to apologise for us getting off on the wrong foot last week. You and your… friends… should come party with me in the VIP area.” He says, eyes dangerous as they flicker over me, he looks almost possessive. He doesn’t own me. “No, thank you.” I brush him off and try not to grin as I catch his eyes narrow, he tries to cover it up but I saw. I so saw. I find it funny, actually, that he saw me dancing with not one but two hot dudes and obviously thinks he can come in and have me to himself. I mean, if he tried hard enough, he probably could but I’m not letting him think that. Ryan Ross is an asshole. I’ve made up my mind. “Fine…” he wanders over to Gabe and Dallon and I see their smiles grow, he puts an arm around both of them and walks them toward the VIP area. The fuck. I run after them, arms in the air, bitter confusion and disappointment on my face. “What are you guys doing?!” I blurt out. I shouldn’t have gone to the bar, I should have stayed dancing. Warm, sloppy, drunk, sweaty, friendly dancing. “Ryan’s taking us to the VIP area, he apologised for the other night, he’s pretty cool, Bren.” Gabe talks excitedly, he’s buzzing from the vodka or the red bull or the god knows what else. He leans in close “And he has weed…” Oh. Well. Maybe just… maybe just one VIP area meeting with Ryan Ross couldn’t hurt. But he’s not leaving here with any of us. So, ha! We drink our shots and follow him like lost puppies. It’s annoying because it’s exactly what he wants. * * * Ryan rolls the blunt between his fingers with ease and I stop to look over them, musicians fingers, I wonder what he plays briefly as he lights it. We’ve spent a couple of hours talking about well, just about anything, about the Mersey beat scene in the 60’s, how Mark Twain changed our lives and about how space can’t really be infinite… can it? We have more in common than I’d like to admit. “Thought you were gonna have a threesome on the dance floor earlier…” Ryan’s smile is dark, it’s a light hearted comment but there’s annoyance behind his words. He nods to the table behind us. I look around, shit, Gabe and Dallon appear to have occupied a booth together. Without me. Kissing and grinding and Gabe is arching into it and I can see him wrap his long legs around my room mates waist to pull him closer. Long limbs tangling, hands in hair, pulling. Tugging. Kissing. Sucking. That’s an image I won’t shake for a while. Ryan takes my chin by a finger, tilting my head so I look at him instead. “You know Brendon, you’re the prettiest guy in this damn bar…” I beg to differ, I think as our eyes meet and this Ryan is so… different to the one I’ve met previously. His eyes are so sincere, his smile so genuine… Shit, I’m falling for it just like every other shmuck I’ve seen hanging off him. “My damn bar.” He points out, like I didn’t already know. I manage to squeak out a ‘thank you’ and shift uncomfortably. He hands me the blunt after inhaling, I take a hit. “I should really get going, it’s late and, they’re obviously gonna be off soon and…” “Come home with me.” I. What? No. “You heard.” I. What? Okay. Maybe.