#i do all the tricks and it only shifts the roll chance by .5

[jubilationsart]

Getting watermelon is its own gacha game when you spend $5+ and MAYBE get something edible. Fruits un general

[kiliinstinct]

Violet Moon: Chapter 5

Listen, it's still Halloween on the West Coast so I'm technically not late. (Ignore the fact it's Nov 1st in my time zone shhhh.) Anyway, HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Apologies ahead of time for any errors. If I wanted this posted tonight, I didn't have time to edit or have Phoenix beta this time around. Anyway, ENJOY!! [First Chapter] -[Chapter 6] Coming Next Year

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Too many things in the world made no sense, but just as many made too much sense. After Freed left Natsu to his thoughts and the pack grew incensed by the lack of his return, the shifter knew what he had to do. It was insane, unheard of, but the only way to fix the mess he’d found himself in. Unfortunately, it came with a horrible, horrible chance of failure. Whether Lucy chose to listen to his explanation or kick him to the curb was only the start of the complications. The iceberg was much larger and far more intricate after that. He didn’t know if he’d be given the chance to traverse that complicated maze or not, but Natsu had to try. Once he’d escaped the boundary of the park, there was no going back. Either Lucy agreed to talk, or he returned with his tail between his legs, ready to face further punishment. In the end, he figured Lucy’s rejection would be far worse than any other consequence: this decision was easy. It was so easy for Natsu to make that it almost scared him how set his mind was.  

He no longer had the privilege to be indecisive after all.

Freed didn’t have to say much to convince Natsu of his travel choices. Four paws were faster than two legs, after all. His five senses were higher than an average humans, but shifted gave him an even better view of the world. He could smell the way to his apartment from miles away. The power in his legs carried him at speeds that felt like flying and his sheer size, much larger than a normal dog, kept most people out of his way. He barely felt the exhaustion of a long-distance run burning in his muscles. His earlier run in the forest was nothing in comparison. The park was outside of town and covered acres of untouched land. But the city had hard pavement that was unforgiving. 

When Natsu reached his apartment building, the rough pavement had worn his paws to a raw red and he panted with cold breaths in the air. He needed water and rest after such a run. But after a quick sniff, nose in the air, he turned from the building’s entry gate and continued down the sidewalk.  

The sun was nearly set, stars twinkled in the sky through the city smog and colored leaves blew down the street. All these things, coupled with Halloween Decorations set the mood for fall, but the large, russet wolf of a dog paid none of it any mind. 

There was one thing that kept his focus: on scent. It was faint now, as Lucy had left his apartment hours ago. He could catch it from anywhere, having memorized everything that made her Lucy since they were young and innocent. It was tinged with the salt of tears and frustration. 

God, the fact it was his fault she felt such a way left his stomach in knots and a whine bubbling out of his throat. 

A few trick-or-treaters walked by him, cheering for their half-filled bags. Many stopped to attempt scratching behind his ears, or hold their hands out for him to smell. Once upon a time, he’d be more than happy to play the part of a docile animal, ready and accepting of attention, but there was no time. He dodged their attempts (and snarled at one who snatched at his tail) and bolted down the street. The sharp pain in his worn-down paws was more than deserved anyway. 

.

.

.

Lucy managed one movie with Happy before the sheer rage and hurt filled her lungs to bursting. If someone asked, she would never manage recalling what the movie had been in the first place. Tears blurred her vision and stained her cheeks as she left with the credits still rolling and a mewling russian blue pawing at the door. 

There was a little guilt that stabbed Lucy’s lungs when she left Happy behind, but the cat wasn’t hers and stealing him away from Natsu’s to keep him – well: happy -felt silly. This understatement of thought was Lucy’s main distraction as she made her way home with swollen eyes and barely contained sniffles. 

Worst.Halloween.Ever. 

Well, maybe not the worst.  Nothing could compare to her last Halloween at her Dad’s empty home, but this was a close first.  When the door to her apartment slammed shut behind her, Lucy let the walls come down. Another wave of tears dripped from her chin as she rubbed her eyes and rushed to the kitchen, circling the island counter with blurred vision.

If she was going to handle tonight without going crazy, she was going to need a distraction. (A voice that sounded like Cana’s whispered, “Get yourself a drink, girl!” - but she snuffed that out quickly. No point in listening to another person who was in on Natsu’s deception after all.)  And what better distraction than sugar: copious amounts of sugar. 

Two hours later, Lucy had three batches of jack-o-lantern shaped chocolate cookies on the counter, a spoon of cookie batter in her mouth, and a spiteful set to her brow. 

She didn’t need Natsu or anyone else to have a good Halloween, she decided. They didn’t deserve her tears. Nope, she was going to have a GREAT evening and there was nothing anyone else could do about it. Dropping the spoon in the sink, she trotted off to her small home-office and got to work. What better thing to do on Halloween night than write a horror story? She’d been meaning to start a new novel, why not while powered with hurt and spite?

The sun was set and the clouds covered the stars in the sky when Lucy decided she needed a small break. Writing through spite was always a good way to be motivated, but it wasn’t the best way to remember self-care; cookies were still on the counter, her stomach growled for something more substantial than sugar and her foggy-headed brain pounded for lack of hydration.

Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Lucy cursed her circumstances. A headache was just what she needed. (Not.) Getting a drink was the easiest one of her many issues to fix, but gulping down ice water did nothing to ease the pounding in her skull. In fact, it grew louder. 

Too loud.

…

Suspiciously loud.

It became apparent that the pounding wasn’t just a headache. It was reality. It echoed down the hall in a resounding beat that was impatient and rushed. A rapid knocking that was familiar enough to send a pained shock of apprehension up her throat. 

Only Natsu knocked like that. (when he bothered to use her door.) His immense impatience was only coupled with his enjoyment of teasing her and he never failed to knock in a way that would end in her sighing in exasperation as she swung it open. He never could be gentle, could he?

She circled back to her living room, stepping slowly towards the door with shallow breaths and a raised brow. Was this actually Natsu? What if it wasn’t?  Standing on the tips of her toes, she peered through the peep-hole of her door, holding her breath in hopes the other side would remain unaware of her presence. 

A shock of pink was her first observation. A matted mess of dyed hair with a leaf sticking out through the sweat damp locks. Natsu continued to rap a closed fist against her door, shifting his weight from side to side as if hot coals were beneath his feet. He looked… dirty. She spied a bit of mud crusting his shirt and was certain more stained his jeans. “...Lucy?” A hoarse voice, quiet and desperate, echoed down the hall, slightly muffled through the door. He rested his head against the door and sucked in a breath, “Lucy, are you there?”

The knocking stopped. A crazy part of her mind wondered if he could sense her, already knowing the answer to his own question. But… that was silly, right?

He rasped her name again, his tone now joined with a whimper. She felt worry churn in her gut before righteous rage flooded her veins.

“Go away.”

She meant to sound enraged, threatening even. An assertive stance was the best way to get results after all. But Lucy’s breath caught, shuddering through emotions that made her waver. Not at all how she wanted to sound. Fingers curled into a fist as she resisted the urge to turn the knob. 

Natsu sucked in a breath, “Lucy, please, I just want to-”

“I said leave!” She snapped. 

Just want to - what? Lie to her more? Her body was a livewire, shaking and overwhelmed. She couldn’t do this. Not now. Lucy’s face was hot, cheeks turning red as she struggled to hold in the sob of betrayal building in her chest. 

Her best friend (former - she reminded herself.) was silent. It took a few seconds of harsh breathing and burning eyes for Lucy to realize he was still at the door. This out of character quiet was unlike the boy she’d grown up with. Was it guilt? (good.) Was he feeling remorse? (He should!) It made her curious enough to check through the peep-hole once more, surprised to see Natsu standing further back, shoulders slack and hands dangling at his sides. Eyes downcast, he resembled that of a scolded dog. A revelation that might have softened Lucy’s heart days ago. Teeth grinded together as tension tightened the muscles in her neck. She began to push away, content to leave Natsu to his silence.

He shifted his weight again, gasping as if pain had shot up through his legs. Lucy froze. What… was wrong with him? A second, more observant glance through the glass thinned her lips into a hard frown. His palms were red…the color of blood. His feet… Lucy was shocked to realize they were bare and just as red. Fear and concern rose to the surface. She could stay mad forever, but that didn’t make her heartless.

She unlocked the door and swung it open, biting her lip as Natsu’s gazed shot up from the floor to meet hers, eyes red-rimmed and just as swollen as hers.  She hated the sense of satisfaction that set in her heart. Let him be upset at being caught, it was well-deserved. But the rest… Lucy stepped aside, gesturing to him, “You remember where my first aid kit is, right?”

His mouth opened to reply, but clamped shut a second later. Good. It was hard enough holding back her ire already. Lucy wasn’t positive she could continue to hold it in if he chose to try and explain himself. 

A beat passed and Natsu nodded, limping his way towards the bathroom on the balls of his feet; Attempting to keep his blood from staining the wood floor. It was a futile effort as bits of his toe prints were left behind and Lucy considered googling the best way to scrub it out. 

She sighed and followed after. Unable to leave him to his own devices for a multitude of mixed reasons that made it hard to settle her thoughts. Was she comfortable with him in her home right now? Absolutely not. But was she comfortable with him uselessly trying to bandage himself with his hands as they were? Also no. 

He was already seated on the toilet when she entered, fingers quivering as he struggled to unzip the kit she kept under the small sink. Flinching when he noticed her, Natsu drilled his gaze into the opposing wall and shook his head. “... you don’t-” He began, shook his head and tried again, “I can do it myself. You don’t have to help me.”

Well, at least he understood that much. Lucy snatched the bag from him and grabbed the antiseptic. “Shut up and hold out your hands. We can talk after.”

Natsu complied with no argument, hands held aloft to reveal the raw and torn skin that covered his palms. She couldn’t hold back her own wince, wondering how in the world he managed to damage himself like this. 

“Thanks, Lucy-”

She glowered, clicking her tongue as consternation filled her, “Don’t thank me yet. I’m tempted to dump an entire bottle of rubbing alcohol on this out of spite.”

She thought he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, ‘I’d deserve it,’ but chose to ignore him. Dabbing at his hands with cotton, she set to work, expression grim. 

There was grit and gravel in his palms. It gave her the impression he’d fallen on the pavement multiple times.  Examining his pants for evidence, she wrinkled her nose, noting the lack of tears in the dirtied pants.  Did he catch himself in his hands and miraculously manage to avoid damaging them? It didn’t match previous experiences in her memory, but Lucy supposed it was possible. 

He remained silent the entire time, refusing to meet her gaze, exhaling sharply each time she dabbed antiseptic on his injuries and carefully bandaged him. When she started on his feet, she grimaced, finding the exact same damages. 

“What happened to your shoes?” She mumbled, unaware she had even asked the question out loud. What surprised her more was when Natsu answered, sounding sheepish, “...forgot ‘em.”

“You... forgot your shoes?”

“Yeah… pretty much.”

If she wasn’t so angry, head still pounding and stomach growling, she might have laughed. That was just like him. Always in a rush, body moving faster than his mind can think through his actions. She was startled when a giggle bubbled up, bursting forth without her control as her eyes grew blurred with tears. Just like him…  a friend she knew so well.. And yet…. Did she really know him at all?

Fingers slid off the bandage as she finished tying up his feet, manic laughter erupting as sobs mixed in. It was hard to breathe. Her chest hurt. Natsu reached for her, saying something she couldn’t catch over the sound of her own voice. At the slightest touch on her shoulder, she jerked back, flailing to grasp the door handle and stand. “No, don’t even-” She gasped, wiping her eyes, “Don’t touch me! Not after.. Not after today! Not -”

Contradicting her own wants, she shoved Natsu back into his seat, fingers shaking. She felt too much at that moment. Too much to handle. Too much to focus on what she needed to do. Natsu stared, wide eyed and pliant, letting her shove him over and over as he stayed frozen in place. “What was it? Huh?” She asked through broken sobs, “Growing up together, spending all our time with each other, our friendship? Was it just.. Some.. long-term prank? Some game? Is that all I’ve been all these years?”

“No! You’ve never been-”

“You don’t get to talk right now,” She snapped, releasing his shoulders as she reclaimed control of herself, “It’s my turn. You need to just sit there and listen! Just listen and maybe- I said shut up! - just MAYBE, I’ll be calm enough to let you say whatever you came here to say after.”

Natsu gaped, freezing on a combination of vowels that made no sense.

“Do you understand?” Lucy pressed through grit teeth.

He nodded, finally shaking the leaf loose from his tangled hair.

Breathing deeply, Lucy counted to ten and exhaled, easing the pain in her chest while recollecting herself. “Good. Let’s talk in the living room. So you can sit and I- well, if I don’t eat something soon, I’m liable to bite your head off.”

She glowered when Natsu bit back a laugh.  Ugh. She really needed dinner. 

.

.

.

Dinner would  come too late for Lucy to think clearly. Having nothing prepared for cooking and the streets too full of costumed party-goers making takeout impossible, Lucy settled on the next best thing: bagels. She’d manage something  else later.

In the meantime, Natsu took his seat without argument. Huddled in the corner of her couch as he held his bandaged limbs out. His brows were knit together in thought, but his gaze was a hollow, empty stare against the wall. Unseeing, lost in thought. It was quite unlike the boy Lucy had grown up with. His joy and exuberance for life had always felt like a bonfire embracing the world in its heat. Now, he looked withdrawn. Cold. Emotionless.  

It was easy to assume the guilt he felt. Unfortunately, as much as Lucy wanted to believe it, she couldn’t. Trust was a brittle, brittle thing, and she wondered if even now was an act. Was this the sort of person he truly was? Or-

Her head throbbed at the thought. She didn’t want to think herself into circles. Overthinking was her speciality, but it wouldn’t get her anywhere. With a determined set in her jaw, she sat in her favorite armchair and bit into her plain bagel with a satisfied hum. Oh, she needed that. 

After a few more bites, she set the plate aside and wiped nonexistent crumbs from her lap. It was now or never. “Do you have any idea,” She began, swallowing thickly, “How stupid I felt? When I went to the cafe and saw the closed sign? My best friend has always been busy on Halloween. Always so busy during the New Years. Our parties were fun, but I was always alone, every holiday and I thought… I thought that’s just how it was. You can’t help having to work or go to a funeral after all, right?”

Natsu gulped, eyes downcast, turning to examine the floor. 

“And.. and then-” Lucy’s voice cracked and she clenched her eyes shut, pushing back the burning in her tear ducts, “Your phone rang at your home and Lisanna answered and it all made sense. Everyone I called my friend was together and having. Everyone but me. Was it… something I did? To make you all think I’d be the best person to play with for so long? I keep thinking through it. Trying to figure out why you’d lie. How many years have you been doing it? How much of anything was true between us, and I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

The tears were back and she hated herself. Just a little. Why couldn’t she be strong enough to remain calm and collected? Why couldn’t her rage come out in cold, quiet fury. Why did the emotions have to drain from her like trickling streams that stained her cheeks and exhausted her physically?

She wanted to scream. To hit something. Anything. (A pillow with a picture of Natsu on it maybe-) 

There were too many things to say and now that she had the chance, they petered out to a tiny sob. Lucy sank into the chair, fingers dug into the printed fabric of the armrests and she watched Natsu with broken eyes. In the end… she just wanted the truth.

“I never thought you were a bully, Natsu, but I don’t know anymore. I just… don’t know.”

The tense silence that followed was a physical object between them. It crushed Lucy’s lungs and as she watched Natsu struggle to meet her gaze, she knew he felt the same. Her earlier satisfaction at their joint suffering was no more. There was just acceptance. She forced another bite of her bagel, looking for any form of distraction, and almost jumped from her chair when Natsu broke the silence.

Whatever tone of voice she expected from him, it wasn’t a mirrored crack to her own, or a shuddering sob. Ice swam through her veins as she waited. 

“I hate that I’ve hurt you.” He confessed, finally looking at her with the most vulnerable expression she’d ever witnessed. “I hate that I lied. I… hate that I’ve been so stupid and the one rule I decided not to break was this. I fucking hate it.”

“I don’t understand-”

“You weren’t supposed to.” He continued as he picked at the bandages. “Me and everyone- … we all lo- like you. We liked spending time with you. You’re as close to family as we could allow but-”

He cut himself off and shook his head. “You gotta understand that this is how it’s always been. How we’ve always done things. It’s how we’ve stayed safe.” 

This was going from heartbreaking to just confusing. Lucy didn’t know how to react other than to urge him onward with a wave of his hand, “Go on then. Explain how I”m somehow a danger then. Safe from what? Healthy relationships?”

“Hunters.”

She blinked. “... I don’t follow.”

Natsu’s expression turned tense. His eyes were narrowed, firm in his decision.He slid to his knees on the floor and looked at her as if she were the moon and stars combined.

“I need to show you something.” He whispered, voice hoarse, “it’s against everything Makarov has ordered. Could even get me disowned, but it’s the only way you’ll ever understand. The only way I can be honest.”

For a split second, she thought he was going to rest a hand on her knee, but he kept his hand held in place, imploring her to consider his words. “Please, Lucy,” He begged, and she finally understood the emotion hidden in his empty eyes: fear. “Once I do this… you can throw me out if you want. I’ll never bother you again. Whatever you want. Just… trust me one more time?”

She was shaking her head before she could think on it, “There’s no-... how can I trust you?”

His whimper struck deep into her lungs as he struggled to find his words, “Not trust then.”

Then what? Stubbornly, she wanted to throw him out that instant, too confused and feeling as if he was furthering this game of his. But there was an ounce of curiosity that held her back. “Do I have to go anywhere?”

He shook his head. “Not if you don’t want to. I can show you here.”

Lucy considered the offer. Taking her time to finish off her bagel and take a drink of water. The earlier headache and hunger pains were gone now; held off for a little while. He’d followed her to the letter since he got here and gave her all the power to turn him away. She hoped it was sincere.

“Show me.” She agreed, ignoring the hope that flashed in his eyes, “If I don’t like what I see then… then I want you gone.”

Natsu didn’t waste a second. He placed his hands on the floor, positioned like a child pretending to be an animal, and kept his gaze on her. Instead of speaking, Lucy felt his thoughts in the piercing set of his eyes. Eyes that were… she gasped.

Gone was the dark-green iris, replaced by a golden amber and slitted pupils. She jolted from her seat, watching in horror as his jaw and shoulders popped out of place, and his face stretched, elongating out with sharp fangs growing. 

She barely registered tripping over her chair as she screamed.

[echoesoftheeldritch]

Happy Halloween!

We recently got a 'Trick or Treat' ask, unfortunately I can not reply to it, but here is your treat random citizen,

A statement.

Tw for paranoia and death :)

NATHAN

Statement of Susan Frost, regarding a summer job. Original statement given September 5th, 2018. Audio recording by Nathan Beckett, Head Archivist of the [static] Institute, London.

NATHAN (STATEMENT)

Right, so I had this job. Lifeguard. I know, can you get any more stereotypical for a summer job? But it paid decently, and I thought hey, if I had to work all summer at least I'd get free access to the pool.

The training was fine. I mean, it was stressful but not anything out of the ordinary. We learned how to do CPR and how to get people out of the water safely, all the things you’d expect. The first week rolled around and all the lifeguards settled into the routine. Being a lifeguard is about 75% just staring at the water. The other 25% is not saving people, it's cleaning up the locker rooms or checking the chemicals or telling people they can't smoke on pool grounds. It's only 1% of the time you actually have to get into the water to help somebody.

So, yeah by the end of the first week any mystery or magic was gone.

At the start of the summer everyone wanted a ton of hours, myself included. We all quickly learned that the opening shift was a snooze fest. Closing shift wasn't much better. There were always two or three people who would drag their feet and pretend not to understand that we were closing.

Technically, we all worked for the city, but I was stationed out at East End Park. It was small and pretty far out there. We had enough people to keep it open, but every other pool in the city was more popular and better equipped than ours. Plus, we were an outdoor pool which meant it was a little too hot, or a little too cold, and if the stars weren't in the right position, the boiler would shut off overnight. The job sucked. Half the time you were sitting there absolutely baking in the sun because there wasn't a single bit of shade. The other half, you were practically frozen. I cannot count the number of times I opened the pool and had to fish some piece of trash out of the water. And that's not even getting into the bugs or the animals that would try to climb the fence.

It still wouldn't have been that bad of a job but, well...

It was the middle of June when things went off. I was on the opening shift, getting up at 5 AM so the retirees could be in the pool at six. There's technically two pools at East End; the lap pool, and the leisure pool. But the leisure pool wasn't opened until 10, maybe for budgeting or something, whatever the reason it meant that only two Lifeguards needed to be present before 9:45.

So, there I was, half-asleep, walking back and forth so I didn't start shivering when this woman came out of the locker rooms. There were maybe two other people in the water. Both of them regulars, and older, and I knew they could swim, so I started watching this new woman.

She wasn't exactly attractive. Even that early in the summer I'd seen plenty of people in swimming suits. It loses the lure fast. I remember she had a swimming cap, and goggles with tinted lenses. Her swimsuit was a black one-piece, more sporty than fashionable. She started doing laps, and she had pretty good form so I figured there wouldn't be any problems.

Then I saw her tattoo.

There were a pair of photorealistic eyes tattooed onto the back of her neck. I think maybe it was supposed to be a joke, or a play on words. I never actually got the chance to ask. I was working, and she was in the water. She was doing the breaststroke, head barely lifting enough to breathe, barely even causing a ripple in the water. And with every lap, every stroke, those eyes looked at me from the back of her neck.

I never saw her eyes. I don't know if she was actually part of it or if I just started noticing it after that. Maybe I just made it up after the fact, but... I don't know... It felt like there was a key in a lock, and after that it had been turned.

Like I said, most of lifeguarding is watching, and it's the watching that people expect. You don't talk to people; you don't have to be friendly. You need to be an authority figure. When I was guarding it was my pool, my zone, my swimmers.

I started taking extra shifts. I said I needed the money, and I did, but not that much, you know? Anyway, it was the middle of summer at that point. A ton of people took a week off in July and someone needed to cover for them. And there I was, willing to take any shift and always on time and never complained…

I knew the regulars by that point. The old women with flabby arms, who bobbed along during the water aerobics class. The old men with their receding hairlines who came and sat in the hot tub as if they were pretending to be Russian mafia.

There was one person, a young woman, maybe 13 or 14. Dark hair that had been buzzed short. She would always bounce around in the water, splashing like she was four years old and had just discovered bath toys. She wore this smile, and I could tell there wasn't a single thought behind her eyes.

There was a retired man, probably military. He had a white scar across one shoulder and onto his back. It took me a while to notice it. I noticed his bad form first. He'd show up in the mornings, dedicated to the routine, but that arm always swung wide, breaking the pattern.

Teenagers would show up sometimes. There was this pair of boys who showed up on one of our down days. We couldn't open the leisure pool because of a chemical imbalance, but they decided to swim anyway. They shared one lane and fooled around for a few minutes. One of them joked about pants-ing the other one. Then they tried to do a lap.

You can tell when someone doesn't know how to swim, or even if they do and just haven't done it in a while. I remember standing over those two and thinking that I was so much better than them. How I could see all the flaws in their strokes. How they kept needing to stop and push off the wall or the bottom if they were on the shallow end.

As a lifeguard it was my responsibility to watch them. They were the ones with the highest chance of drowning and there were only three other people in the pool. They would have gotten a fifth of my attention even if I hadn't singled them out.

Eventually I had a talk with my manager. I was bumping up against 35 hours a week and they wanted to warn me I couldn't go over 39 because I was a part timer, and they appreciated the hard work but what hours did I want to focus on, and didn't I want to enjoy my summer?

It felt like an attack, but I knew he could cut off my access to the pool, so I nodded along and agreed. And in the back of my mind I started thinking about ways to stay at the pool, when I wasn't on shift.

I was already working mornings, so I stuck around. I just didn't change out of my uniform. I walked around the deck, and looked at the water and did little things, like put away kick boards. It wasn't as good as actual guarding.

There was this corner, around one side of the building. You couldn't really see it from the office, so people sometimes went over there if they wanted to sneak a cigarette. It was a problem early in the summer. It stopped being a problem when I started standing there after my shift. I did nothing, I just stood there, in uniform, and looked out at the water. But that wasn't as good either. It was too far from the pool, and I couldn't see past the slide.

Then things changed again at the end of July. Our manager went on maternity leave and a manager from another pool took over. They were young and didn't know half the systems and the other half they knew from a different pool. Between that and the gaps in the schedule, I could get around them easier.

By that point I was showing up for the morning shift even when I wasn't scheduled. Then I'd rotate in halfway through the middle shift so someone else could get lunch and when the late shift came on, I'd clean until we needed to change the lane lines. Changing the lane lines was a lot easier with another person, but it always happened right when someone needed to rotate, so I stepped in and let the other person get back to their phone.

I had quiet conversations in ones and twos with the other guards. They all thought that I was dealing with something at home and that it was easier for me to be at the pool. Nothing serious, nothing that would get the cops or social services involved, just a fight with my parents or my sister constantly bringing her boyfriend over or my brother using the garage to practise with his band and causing a racket.

I don't have any siblings.

Then I figured out the swap system with the log-in machine.

We had this machine that we used to log in and out. It was old and clunky as hell. We each got a code and had to type it in when we got there and then again when we left. Giving out your code wasn't something anyone did because then they could pull pranks and log you out in the middle of your shift and no one would know until payday. But there were a bunch of manager codes, and one day our new junior manager left the manual out.

One code in particular, was for if you put in the wrong code. It reassigned logged hours to a different user. So I quietly let it be known that if I wasn't on the schedule, I'd take someone else's shift and then reassign it to them. It worked best for morning and middle shifts since the other lifeguard could put in their code without actually telling me, but a few lazy guys who normally pulled the evening shift flat out texted me their codes so I could swap with them.

Just like that I was working every shift, basically every day. I had to be careful. I had to work around the manager and still do all the other stuff like checking the chemicals and cleaning the changing rooms, but I got to watch the water. That was what mattered to me.

Looking back, I know it sounds like a lot. Working from 5am to 7pm basically 7 days a week. I shouldn’t have been able to keep that up, even as a teenager, and somebody should have definitely been fired. The Thing is, I needed it.

You’re probably thinking I was on drugs.. It might make sense if I was on something.

I wasn’t.

The guarding itself was my drug. It didn’t matter if there were 50 people in the pool or four. It didn’t matter if they were old or young, if they knew how to swim, or had to hang onto the sides. All that mattered was that I could watch them, all their imperfections and bad habits, the moles and bug bites and overlapping tan lines. Seeing them, cataloguing them, it was meat and drink to me. I still ate, I carried my water bottle everywhere, but that was part of the disguise. A way to keep everyone else content and not asking questions, stopping me from doing what I needed to do.

When I wasn’t guarding I was asleep, or on my way to or from the pool. That’s all there was. I know I must have talked to my parents, told them something, but I don’t have the faintest memory of it.

I think it would have kept going like that, at least until the end of the season, but I beat the odds before that happened.

That’s not quite the saying. The lifeguards used to say ‘we beat the odds’ when they went a full week with no one needing to be rescued. But that isn’t how I use it.

It was morning, and it was a cold one. It felt like fall. Mist or steam hovering a foot off the water. Streetlights casting hatch mark shadows through the chain-link fence.

My partner that morning was Doug Therman. He met my eye as we clocked in.

He asked to trade. I nodded; it wasn’t even a question for me.

What he meant was did I want to be the active guard for him doing the opening checklist. Regulations say you need to rotate guards out at least every half hour, preferably every 15 minutes if there are enough people. With our agreement I’d be out there on my own until nine when a manager showed up. The pool opened at 5:30.

So I headed out and Doug did whatever he was going to do. A pair of regulars showed up. They talked about how brisk it was and got down to it. I settled in. It was like I could breathe again. It felt like that every morning, like I wasn't really there until I had my guard tube in my hands, standing over the water.

The guy showed up maybe an hour later. Still early enough that it was cold. Early enough that only the really dedicated swimmers would come to the pool, and our normal crowd had already come and gone. I was watching empty water. It wasn't as satisfying as watching when somebody was in the pool, but I wasn't about to go into the garden room even if it was technically allowed.

This guy was average in a lot of ways, Middle-aged, going bald, slightly overweight. My eyes landed on him as soon as he came out of the locker room. He had a towel around his neck and was picking at the end, twisting the fibres. His eyes kept darting around, nervous little twitches like a rabbit that smelled a fox nearby. His eyes landed on me for a moment, before sliding away again. I was something he expected. Something in me was pleased with that. That he hadn't recognized what I was, the threat I posed.

He took his time getting into the water. First, he found a little cubby for his towel, hesitating over where exactly to put it down. He went through our small collection of kick boards that hadn't been damaged or stolen yet that summer. Eventually he picks one, glancing around as if someone would reprimand him for it. He eased into the lap pool slowly, one step at a time, the kickboard hugged against his chest, other hand white knuckled on the guardrail.

He settled a bit when he was finally in the water. The man took a breath, did some stretches, then with one last look around he kicked off the wall. He wasn't a great swimmer, but he wasn't the worst I'd seen either. Unlike some people he didn't push for speed right away. A part of me was content to watch, but there was something else… something about this guy, this stranger made me want to push.

Part of what they teach lifeguards is to change position every five minutes. If you've been sitting down, then stand up. If you are standing up, stroll back and forth.

Another thing they teach you is to close the distance between you and someone who is at high risk as long as it doesn't block you from part of your area.

I started to pace. It wasn't hard to walk at the same speed the guy was swimming. I matched him, one end of the pool to the other, eyes always on him. He didn't notice immediately, but when he did, it was obvious. He got twitchy, well, more twitchy. When he got to the end of his lap he fidgeted, adjusting his swim cap and obviously not looking at me while trying to see what I was doing.

On another day I would've played it off. I would've kept walking, broken the pattern between us. Maybe stretch out a bit or drink some water, something to make it seem like it was just a coincidence. But on that morning I kept watching, eyes fixed on him from behind dark sunglasses.

I needed to see what would happen next.

I was looking right at him when the heart attack started. I assume it was a heart attack. That's what the EMT said later. It felt like more than that, but I'm not the one who died.

He died, and I watched it happen. I saw him go pale, and shaking as it came up to touch his chest. I saw him clutch at the wall, knees giving out as he slid sideways into the water. I saw him try to stand up, coughing and sputtering. His eyes were fixed on me as he splashed about. He was only 5 feet from the stairs, but you can drown in any depth.

I just stood there and watched until the bubbles stopped coming. Then I strolled around the pool. Entering the water felt like a baptism. I pulled the body up onto the stairs and checked his pulse. I couldn't find one. Only then did I blow my whistle. I was floating, but there was still a part of me that knew there would be consequences.

Doug had been napping. He woke up quickly when he saw I was half in the water with an unconscious patron. To his credit, he did exactly what we had been trained to do, robbing the emergency phone off the wall and dialling 999 even as he stumbled over to me. I told him what CPR cycle I was on while he put on his gloves. Six minutes later EMTs arrived. They took over, but we all knew he wouldn’t be revived.

The pool was closed for the rest of the day, but for once I barely noticed.

There was a lot of talk after that. Rescue reports and assessments to make sure everyone had done their job. Doug never admitted that he had been napping, but somewhere in the middle of things, it came out that I had been working extra hours. Someone higher up decided it was fatigue and stress and I was let go so I could focus on myself for a while.

I told you before that I don't do drugs, but everything I've read suggests that those last weeks of the summer were just as bad as any withdrawal. The back of my neck ached, shooting pain into my temples. I couldn’t sleep. Sometimes I would get a glass of water, only to find myself staring into it minutes or hours later.

I tried to go back to the pool once. They wouldn’t let me in. The junior manager, who had let everything slip by him got all red in the face. I thought he was probably angry, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. There were other pools, of course, but I knew swimming wouldn’t make me feel right, and anyway, they were halfway across town.

My parents were concerned, but still busy, so it was decided that I would go to my aunt May’s for the final week before Labor Day. She lived three hours away, on 10 acres of land in a ranch-style house that had been built the previous century. The county would be good after my “trauma”. I didn’t protest. At that point I didn’t care.

I tried to put it behind me, but it was difficult.

Then, a week ago the summer retrospective went around. There’s always a bunch of pictures, and this time there was one of me. It was from the back, not obvious or anything, but I could tell, and there, half hidden by my hair was a tattoo. The outline of a pair of eyes, staring right at the camera.

I haven't checked the back of my neck. I don't want to know what I'll find.

NATHAN

Statement ends.

Ms Frost included a photo of the news document, and there does appear to be a pair of eyes tattooed to the back of her neck. The man, Henry Porter, did die in a leisure centre on July 18th, cause of death labelled a heart attack. We could not identify the women with the eye tattoos and any possible follow up on this statement has led to a dead end. There was just not enough information.

Recording ends.

Hope you enjoyed!

- Mod Nico

[phantomiaou]

thank you, monsieur neuvillette. there is no window for her to speak, but the gratitude is there, and perhaps prematurely. she had not expected to secure victory so soon, though. the twisted shriek of flames anew hits all but neuvillette and threatens to send the rest flying, even scorch her ears altogether, but lynette holds her own just as the rings around her finally dissolve. the lady, however, has more in store.

kaveh takes a crackling bolt. standing yet, he swings with all his might, and for a moment it seems they've all survived this new form's initial wrath by the skin of their teeth. then her blades swing again, this time in pairs, and lyney takes the brunt of exactly what his sister just had—one twin out of the ring just to ensnare the other. lynette's eyes shoot wide open, head snapping in his direction, and a cry nearly rises to her lips.

but upon impact, this set of blades comes with even more repercussions. they ricochet, split, and rebound to the rest of them. an arm flies across her face to brace and block whatever part of the slice it can. it hits bone; she hisses in pain, another cry strangled in her throat that she suppresses to avoid alarming her brother. as much as she can, anyway.

out the corner of her vision, a flicker of white, teal and red falls. the reverberating clang across the rooftop can only be a claymore, and if that is the case—lynette's brows pinch with a tight blink of eyes, and bereavement locks her jaw, but the situation is dire and she mustn't shirk on her first chance to finally act.

LYNETTE 5/10HP screams and rolls 4 energy. [3 energy] LYNETTE 5/10HP uses MAGIC TRICK: ASTONISHING SHIFT to summon the construct BOGGLECAT BOX. LYNETTE 5/10HP forfeits 1 remaining energy.

"chief justice neuvillette!" shouts lynette, vanishing into the flourish and spin of her cape for a very familiar feline to burst forth in her place. lynette reappears and lands on her feet, as all cats do, some paces away from the swirling spectacle—and back beside lyney, where she belongs.

"brother." she keeps her voice as level, as collected as always, but lyney will know. "i'm here."

she wonders who she is murmuring it for. but, lynette is here—yes, she is still here, and so is lyney. for most of her life she had believed that was all she needed. perhaps deep down it still is. she can survive anything, everything but being torn from her other half.

but i can't introduce you to him anymore, brother.

　/ * IN THE DYING LIGHT OF SUNSET .

[ragingbookdragon]

I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 5

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, ALL THE ANGST. AND MORE TO COME! Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines @starflyer-104 @iwillstaywiththemforever @justine-en @weirdgirlfromtx @notsostraightweeb @candlestudy @edlothia-baby @soul-end @willieoo @willowoo @peterxwade24 @the-atlantic-french-fry @bad-bouquet-of-emotions @vvipgot7be @pure-princess-97 @atomicsoulhumanspy

Author's Note: I have nothing to say for any of the emotions y'all are about to get from this. Enjoy!-Thorne

She wasn’t sure what she expected when she sat down, but the stretching silence growing between her and her estranged family wasn’t it. She tried to look anywhere but them, not because she was ashamed—far from it. But it was more than awkward sitting across from three brothers and a father she’d not spoken to in three years, let alone tell them she was even alive.

Her eyes found Wally’s as he sat down beside her eldest brother and if looks could’ve killed, he’d been dead and buried.

“Glare at me all you want, but I’m not going to apologize,” he shrugged.

Scowling, she turned her attention to the skyline. “Fuck you,” she spat, crossing her arms.

“At least talk to them, (Y/N).”

“And why should I, Wally?” she questioned, glaring at him. “I don’t have anything to say. If I did, I wouldn’t be here in Central.”

“You’re not leaving until you talk to them,” he finalized with a firm look and she growled low in her throat and resigned herself to her fate.

Her eyes darted to her father’s and she couldn’t for the life of her decipher what was in them. “I’ll talk for an hour,” she told him. “I’m not talking about what I’ve been doing in Central City, so don’t ask. I’m not talking about the life I’ve been living, so don’t ask. You’re only allowed to ask me about my departure and that’s it. But after one hour is up, I’m leaving.”

“Who said you get to leave,” Wally questioned, and she shot him the darkest glower she could muster.

“So help me God, Wally West you’ll either take me home or you’ll fix that fucking elevator and I’ll walk myself home. Because if you don’t, I’ll tell the world who every vigilante is at this table.”

For once she managed to stump him because his eyes went wide—so did her family’s but she didn’t care—and he finally nodded.

“Alright. One hour.”

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, she turned back to her family, more specifically her father. “Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

“Maybe for you to come home, (Y/N),” Jason answered, and she glanced to him.

“Not a chance. Next?”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to be hostile. We’re not going to force you here,” Dick said, and she looked at him now, eyes narrowing.

“The manipulation tactic isn’t going to work on me, Dick. I’m not here for to be tricked into coming back. I’m never coming back.” She cocked her leg over the side of the table and reclined, biting out, “Give me your anger. I’d prefer that instead of whatever this pitiful bullshit you’ve got going on.”

In the eighteen years they’d known their sister they’d never heard her say such a callous thing, but her words had practically slapped Dick across the face because hurt etched onto his expression, then immediately turned into anger.

“You want my anger? Fine.” He stood and pointed at her. “What the hell is wrong with you! Why would just up and disappear like you did! Do you have any idea how scared we were for you! How distraught!”

(Y/N) blinked at him. “Knowing how you like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders because you can’t help but be a hero? Probably a lot.” She made a dramatic show of looking at her watch. “You’ve got forty minutes. Keep it up.”

Her eyes shifted to Bruce’s. “Did you let them read the letter? Or did you just throw it away after you read it?”

Dick, Jason, and Tim all turned to Bruce at that.

“Letter?” Tim repeated. “What letter?”

(Y/N)’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape and then she smiled knowingly. “Oh, you never showed them the letter, did you?” She looked to her brothers. “I wrote dad a letter the night I left to explain why I was leaving. It’s sugarcoated bullshit but it is the truth.”

Dick’s face contorted in anger. “(Y/N) left a reason behind and you didn’t tell us about it? Three years and not a single word?”

Bruce merely stared at her as he pulled the letter out of his coat pocket. “I was going to burn it when I found her again. Talk to her before anyone else could.”

Jason snatched the letter from his hands. It had faded a bit, softened around the hard edges, like someone had opened it and read it every day for three years.

His eyes scanned the paper, and he met her gaze, voice chock-full of hurt and she had to fight tooth and nail to keep herself from externally reacting. “You left because you thought we didn’t care about you?”

Dick reached over and took the letter. With furrowed brows and a frown, he started to read aloud, and Bruce gazed at (Y/N) as the memory came back to him.

***

Mornings at the manor were unusually quiet in comparison with the evenings. Everyone was typically too tired to argue so it accounted for a peaceful breakfast of soft words and chewing. Everyone had an assigned seat and every child had learned early on not to take the seat that belonged to another brother or their sister because there would be a fight about it.

Dick and Jason sat next to each other and (Y/N) took the seat at the end of that side; Tim and Damian took the other side—oldest to youngest, just the neat and even way Bruce liked it.

It was rare for any of the boys to be awake before him or Alfred and (Y/N) was usually the first kid to the table, the boys wandering in just minutes after her. Oddly enough, that morning she hadn’t come down for breakfast—which she always came to.

Bruce looked at Alfred. “Is (Y/N) coming down?”

Alfred hummed and gently maneuvered Tim’s arm to the side to he could set down the plate. “When I went to her door, it was locked, and I received no conversation from inside.”

Jason snorted and sipped his coffee. “Probably had a long night with her friends and is still out. I know I would be.”

“How would you know?” Tim interrupted. “You died before you got to the eleventh grade.”

“You’re one to talk, dropout,” Dick countered, and Damian sighed.

“Richard, you dropped out of college. The only son of Batman who has actually completed an entire bout of schooling is me.”

The three boys turned on him with scowls and retorted, “No one asked you, pipsqueak.” Damian glared back at them.

Bruce rolled his eyes, using the side of his fork to cut into his omelet. “Let’s try not to start a free-for-all here in the breakfast room, please.” He glanced at Alfred. “She’s probably tired from all the ceremonies. Let her sleep.”

Alfred nodded. “Of course, Master Bruce. She should be well rested this evening.”

But when the evening came, Alfred still hadn’t been able to get (Y/N) to unlock her bedroom nor speak to him. He certainly wasn’t worried, but it was off for her to be so reclusive. When Bruce and the boys came back from patrol, he mentioned it to him.

“Miss (Y/N) hasn’t come out from her bedroom, Master Bruce. Nor has she said a single word all day.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed and he tugged the cowl off, rising from the seat at the Batcomputer. “I’ll go check on her,” he replied. “You deal with…” his steel eyes drifted to Dick who had Tim in a headlock and Jason who was giving Damian a noogie. “Them,” he finalized, leaving the poor butler behind.

He knocked on the door to her room and pressed his ear to it. “(Y/N)? You haven’t come out all day. Is everything alright?”

Nothing. Not even a breath.

“(Y/N), are you in there?” he asked again and when he didn’t receive a confirmation, he raised his arm, running his fingers along the doorframe until he touched a small metal piece. He pulled it down and stuck it in the door, wiggling the knob for a second before it clicked, and he opened the door.

“Sweetheart, we’ve been trying to—” Bruce went silent when he saw the kempt room. Bed neatly made, everything organized and put away. Even her clothes hamper was empty.

He blinked and walked into the room, quickly heading to the bathroom to check for her there. It was empty as well, and just as clean, leaving him stunned as he exited the bath.

Wandering over to her desk, he saw an elegant envelope sitting on top of her laptop, his name written in beautiful penmanship. He picked it up and unfolded it, pulling out the multi-page letter. He drew his eyes along the golden lines, reading her words.

Dad,

I don’t really know how to start this letter. Truth be told I’ve written at least six before this one, and even then, I’m not entirely happy with it. But if you’re reading this, I’m not here anymore. I haven’t hurt myself in anyway, you don’t need to worry about Vicki Vale or Jack Ryder reporting the discovery of my body. I mean it in a literal sense—I’m not in Gotham anymore. Neither am I ever coming back.

Don’t think this is your fault. You’re a good father, the best I could’ve been given, and my brothers are good siblings. But the truth is that I’m not fit for this family of heroes. And I never have been. My best when trying to be what all of you are, was never good enough and I’ve spent eighteen years staring at your backs, waiting for you all to realize that I’m still here, that I still matter even if I’m not like you. And I don’t want to feel like a stranger in my own home any longer.

I don’t want you to look for me. I know you will, but I wish you wouldn’t. This isn’t some spur of the moment thing I decided to do the night after graduation. If you look at my bank records, I’ve been withdrawing cash from my savings since freshman year—this is four years of planning, so please understand that I’m doing this because I don’t want to be found—ever.

I’ll leave the story for the media up for you, though I doubt that they’ll care long enough to make a deal of it. It’ll pass like winter does spring and they’ll move on to the next bigger story.

Thank you for everything dad, and good luck with Gotham—keep it safe like you always have. And I hope that one day when you think of me, you won’t feel disappointment. I’ve only ever tried to be something that when you looked down on me, you’d only be proud, and I hope one day I’ll achieve what I always dreamed about. Eighteen is young to be on your own and I’m scared. But I’ll be okay—I always have been.

So do me a favor and don’t spend too much time over this. There are plenty more younger kids that need a parent’s hand on their backs to steady them like you once did for me. Find one and fill my spot. Let them shine brighter than I ever could. Let them be the one worthy to be a Wayne—I know I never was.

-(Y/N)

Bruce barely had time to grasp the back of her chair to keep himself from falling to his knees in shock. The letter was clenched in his hand and his lungs wouldn’t take in air like he wanted them to, his heart aching with each palpitation. He looked around the room to her dresser drawers, willing the strength into his legs to moved over to it. He opened every drawer and to his astonishment, they were empty. Hurrying to the bathroom, he noticed the drawers in there were empty as well. She was really gone. And he had no idea what to do.

***

Tears were in Dick’s eyes when he finished the letter and he looked up at her. “How could you ever think we didn’t care about you, (Y/N)?”

She didn’t want to have this conversation. She didn’t want to sit there and explain every time she asked her brothers if they wanted to do something with her and they conveniently had something else to do. Didn’t want to explain every school and extracurricular performance that went unattended and left a little girl standing in front of a crowd barely managing to stave off the tears as she bowed and thanked them for coming. She didn’t want to remember all the memories that chipped away at her heart with every disappointment that occurred. All she wanted to do was leave.

(Y/N) had earlier returned to her original position, hands in her lap and she clenched her fists until her nails bit into the skin of her palms, eyes directed anywhere but Dick’s.

“I think it’s time we call this little reunion done,” she said, standing to her feet. “We’re not going to get anywhere.”

“Not if you run again,” Jason muttered, unconsciously wiping a tear from his eye.

She pointed at him, hissing, “I didn’t run the first time, Jason. I left. On my own accord.”

“You ran instead of coming to us, (Y/N),” Tim said, and she threw her hands above her head in disbelief.

“What the fuck did you want me to do! Wander down into the cave and beg at your feet for someone to pay attention to me! To at least pretend like I was a sister! I did! Every day!”

(Y/N) picked up her purse and yanked it up her arm. “Cassandra seems to be fitting in better than I did. So go and dote on her as the younger sibling. I’m not interested in the position anymore.”

“It’s not a competition,” Dick explained. “We love you just as much as we love Cass.”

She paused and gazed at him, voice laced with disappointment as she disagreed, “Then you should make sure she’s content in the manor, because if you love her with any semblance of how you loved me? It’s not at all.”

Her eyes shifted to Wally’s. “Fix the elevator. Now.”

He stayed seated for a moment, the two of them staring each other down, then he nodded wordlessly and moved to the elevator, starting it again. Her family stayed seated, and she gave them one final look before she followed Wally, silently waiting for the doors to open.

When they did, she stepped inside and turned around, hitting the button. Just before the doors closed, Wally stopped them and murmured, “You’re making a mistake.”

“My worst mistake was becoming friends with you.” (Y/N) blinked at him, then reached up and shoved his hand away from the door and as it closed, she remarked coldly, “And you can go to hell for all I care.”

[spenciegoob]

The 4 Types of Manipulation

A/N: hey hey hey cuties... just thought I’d drop in to tell you I love you and Harry Styles at the Grammy’s, oh and Miley Cyrus in general. Okay that’s it.

Summary: Spencer has to interrogate an unsub, but she has a few tricks up her sleeve.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Unsub!Reader

Category: Not fluff, but not angst... angsty fluff? fluffy angst?

Content Warning: mentions of murder, manipulation, mentions of sex in the form of flirting, mentions of drug use, mentions of emotional abuse

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.8K

____

Nobody dared to take a breath out of place, every profiler was packed into the room watching with careful eyes at the sobbing girl in the interrogation room through the glass. No one knew what their first step should be, but I guess there’s a first time for everything, right? Winging it was not something anyone in the BAU enjoyed doing, each case needed a thought out plan.

But they’ve seen this unsub before, they know the profile, the history, they know her. So why was she crying so hard that the weight of her head became unbearable, leaving her only option to sob into the crooks of her elbows as best as she could with wrists cuffed to the table?

Nobody knew, except for Spencer Reid.

Emily was hesitant, as expected, to blindly send in one of the best agents she’s ever seen into the room that with each tear shed slowly morphed into a lion’s den. Reid deserved better, she knew that, especially since the last time they dealt with an unsub like this one, Spencer had to be so far out of the loop that the case almost broke him.

He put up a good fight though, and if the determination set in his eyes wasn’t enough to inform the unit chief that she was not winning this argument, his deviance to storm through the door, startling the young woman chained down definitely did.

Why was it always Spencer?

Tears:

“P-please, I didn’t do anything.” Those were the first words anyone’s heard her say since the arrest, even if they were separated by sniffles and choked out sobs. 

Spencer just stared down at her, not taking the risk to further entertain the stuttering girl with wet cheeks and tired eyes.

“I promise I’m not a murderer. You have to believe me, please.” That promise whispered so quietly made with unbreakable eye contact urged him to take a second to reevaluate the situation.

She was apprehended in place of Jacob Hughes, the man they had originally been looking for. There was a chance she wasn’t complicit, a chance she was innocent. Maybe Jacob placed a hair of hers at the latest crime scene because he knew they were closing in.

Or maybe she is just as sick as he is. 

“Prove it,” Spencer said, his tone loud and assertive, leaving no room for argument. She didn’t plan on fighting his demand anyway.

“I- I haven’t seen Jacob for days. He drugged those men, and did h-horrible things. Those poor men.” This struck a nerve, everybody could tell, even the one person in this interaction that wasn’t a profiler. 

Spencer’s shoulders tensed for a millisecond, but she saw it. She saw what her words were doing to him, after all, he used to be one of those poor men she felt so sorry for.

Another loud sob echoed off the concrete walls before she bit her bottom lip and took a deep breath.

“I can’t believe he mur... did that to them. H-how could he?” Spencer watched as the young girl looked up to him like he held the answer to the million dollar question. He studied the way her eyes bounced around his face, looking for something, anything to relieve some confusion when it came to her fiancé.

“Jacob Hughes is what we call a vindictive narcissist and a sadist. He receives pleasure from hurting others, and in this case, drugging and torturing men because he feels he’s been wronged his whole life. The question, however, is why. I know you know, just like how I know you’re aware of his crimes.”

It was a blow so low it could’ve come from hell itself. Spencer regretted it immediately when he watched the way her whole body stiffened at the mention of her knowledge, but he had to be certain no matter the fallout.

“I-I still don’t understand. I’ve never seen him hurt anyone.” Denial, guilt and fear all jam packed into 3 little words that had his heart dangerously close to breaking. The sorrow in her eyes believable enough that Spencer left his standing position between the suspect and the door to sit directly across from her.

She watched his movements with careful eyes, only stealing glances from her peripherals before returning to her cuffed wrists.

“Maybe you’ve never seen him physically hurt anyone, but we know what he does to you.” It was the first and only time Spencer let any emotion, as fake as it was, show in his responses. How could he not try when the girl resumed her sobbing at the implication of her past deception from the man she loves? 

“You know nothing,” she whispered back, her tone laced with defensive anger.

“I know everything.” Was he challenging her?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Was she challenging him?

“You know what it means.” Yes, he was.

“Do I?” Yes, she was.

The two stared at each other for the entire tone shift in the stuffy interrogation room. The other profilers on the other side of the mirror had no knowledge of how thick the tension had just become because unlike Spencer, they weren’t standing in the middle of it.

Small sniffles were the only noise breaking through the quiet until suddenly, they just stopped.

“Ugh, fine! You win this round. My eyes are starting to hurt from all this goddamn crying. Do people actually cry this much when you arrest them?”

Spencer leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms to clearly convey just how unamused he was with the girl’s antics. She watched him intently, picking apart every move down to the muscle trying to search for any indicators that her little performance worked even a fraction of what she was hoping for.

And she got her wish in the form of the agent’s fingers tapping lightly at his sides under perfectly muscular, if she may add, arms, because any other movement would have been too obvious.

Spencer Reid was getting nervous, because the second her facade faded, he lost the upper hand. She just had to get him trapped in here.

“Oh come on. Not even a ‘good job’? I wasn’t expecting full blown applause, but some appreciation for that show would be nice.” Still, Spencer gave her nothing. He needed her to keep talking, and filling silence was a sure way to make certain she did just that.

“I’ll tell you what you need to know, but first you have to admit that I had you fooled for a second there.”

Lies:

“No.” Unexpectedly, instead of getting frustrated with Spencer’s refusal to play along, she just smiled brighter. This was exciting to her, and it was getting on his nerves.

“What gave it away? Did I look to the left before I spoke or something?” Spencer kept his mouth shut. “Come on, what’s my tell? Enlighten me.”

She copied his movements as Spencer leaned over the cool, metal table slightly, eyes racking over her face, lingering on certain parts for longer than others.

“No.” At this, she huffed back in her seat, leaving the close proximity that would later be used as a secret tool against the doctor before he had the chance to catch on. 

“If you’re just going to shut down every single one of my proposals, then why am I here?”

“You’re here because you’re a suspect in a series of 7 murders in the past 5 weeks.” She perked up at his words, amusement dripping from her features.

“Finally, Doc has something more to say than just ‘no.’ Tell me, was that so hard?”

“No.”

“Ugh!” Rolling her eyes would be giving ammo to the enemy, but the urge to do so was quite strong. In fact, she almost did until she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the one way mirror.

“I’m serious when I say this,” she said, looking directly into Spencer’s eyes so he couldn’t accuse her of lying. “If you take the cuffs off, I’ll answer everything.”

“No.”

“Please! They’re seriously starting to hurt. I put 100% into that performance, and now it’s coming back to bite me in the-”

“Fine!” Spencer stood up carefully, not walking around the table until he was certain the girl wasn’t a flight risk, or worse. When he did finally make his way over, she sat completely still, not taking her eyes off where his fingers grazed hers as the handcuffs unlocked.

A breath of relief escaped her as she rubbed her wrists with the opposite hands, eventually feeling the blood fully return to all 10 fingers.

“Thank you.” It was so vulnerable and raw that it knocked Spencer back for a second. They locked eyes, and something deeper than he was ready for passed between them.

He didn’t know what it was, all he knew was that he hated it so much that he tore his eyes away immediately to return back to his original spot seated across from her.

“Answer me this-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there.” Neither of them spoke for far too much time, and Spencer was growing more annoyed by the second.

“What?” It came out harsh, and mean, and downright cruel, but he couldn’t care less.

“Oh nothing, I just wasn’t going to answer anything. I really just wanted to fix my hair.” And, in being true to her words this time, she secured her hair into a messy bun using the elastic Spencer didn’t even realize was missing from his wrist.

“I’m putting the cuffs back on.”

“No wait,” she pleaded, halting Spencer’s move to get up. “They really did hurt, I wasn’t lying about that.”

“I don’t care.” He made his way over, forcefully grabbing both of her wrists before securing the handcuffs back on. Spencer only regretted his actions slightly when she winced at the metal now back to pressing into her skin.

“Yes you do. It’s your biggest flaw.” Instead of answering, Spencer just returned to his seat, leaning back with crossed arms. He didn’t need to listen to a psychopath tell him his flaws.

“You care too much,” she continued, not minding if he was listening or not. “It gets you hurt, other people hurt. I wish that wasn’t the case. You deserve better, Doc.”

Spencer didn’t engage, opting to gawk tiredly at the suspect, and watch the way her eyes flicker across his features, gauging for a reaction. She wasn’t done.

“Hey, okay, fine. I’m just messing with you,” she laughed, finally breaking her serious facade. “What? A girl can’t joke around while she’s being accused of murder?”

“Accused? Or caught?”

“Accused.” It was final, her tone immediately dropping to a fiery rage. Her defenses were up, and Spencer was never really good at playing on the offensive team.

This time, it was Spencer’s turn to analyze, watching the way the blood rushed to her cheeks with her rising anger level. How all of a sudden her eyes lost their playful glint, giving him the chance to fully see the soul buried deep in them. For a split second, she was completely unveiled right before his eyes.

Spencer, clearly not anticipating just how long the girl in front of him could hold her own, used his last bullet.

He placed the crime scene photos in front of her.

“You know who did this.” It wasn’t a question, he saw it in her eyes. Spencer watched the way they remained stoic even after looking at the bloody walls, and vacant eyes of the deceased.

“No.” Oh, how the tables have turned.

“Who are you protecting?” Her head shot up at his question, eyes flashing red before she blinked it away again. Subconsciously, she started to pick at her fingernails.

“No one.” It was a lie if he’s ever heard one. 

Fear:

“You’re lying. Who is it?” 

“I’m not lying.” She wouldn’t even make eye contact with him. Instead, she gave her undivided attention to her shaky hands confined to the table.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Enough! Who are you protecting?!” At this, Spencer stood up and slammed his hands against the table with a strong amount of force that she flinched hard enough to further irritate her wrists.

He felt awful, the bouncing back and forth between them should have given him enough indicators that she wasn’t lying out of spite. But he couldn’t back down, he had her cornered and her only way out was to tell the truth.

“No one.” She wouldn’t look at him, even as she whispered. “Please stop.”

Spencer truly believed that he had her in a bind, an inescapable one at that, but it wasn’t the truth. Oh no, what the profiler failed to realize was she had him where she needed him.

“I have no information to give you,” she whispered before tagging along. “I’m sorry.” It was the first time she apologized for something Spencer could have seen as an inconvenience.

He believed her, too.

“I shouldn’t have yelled.” That was his form of an apology. Spencer wasn’t going to go any further with it, even if she was coerced into lying by whoever the true unsub is, she was still getting on his nerves.

Her hands were still shaking at this point, and she wouldn’t meet his eyes. Spencer just slumped back into his seat, settling into the silence between them until ultimately he was either called out of the room, or she gave him another indication that her game hasn’t ended.

A loud sigh bounced off the walls. “I don’t care that you yelled in my face. You think it’s the first time a man’s done that? You’re not special, Doctor.”

“I never said I was.” So the game carries on, but this time, she didn’t smile at his sarcastic response. Leaning back in her chair, she huffed a breath before continuing.

“You really want to be though, don't you?”

Lust:

She was pushing his buttons, trying so hard to dig under his skin till she was unremovable. She wanted Spencer to leave this room with her on his mind for the rest of his days.

She was close too.

“No, I don’t,” Spencer deadpanned, trying to keep a cool tone. If he continued to hand her the ammunition she needed, he would be left defenseless.

“Oh come on, loosen up. I was just joking.”  A smirk grew across her features, a thought crossing her eyes. One Spencer knew would not be in favor of his win tonight. “I could help you with that, you know.”

“No, I don’t know.” He did. Spencer wasn’t going to lie to himself and say that the woman sitting across the table wasn’t extremely attractive; she was. He just would never admit it aloud.

“I have a feeling you like to get rough, don’t you, Doctor?” She asked, sitting up and crossing her legs. The stare shared between the two of them was a mix between passion and anger, meeting in the middle to create a new kind of emotion.

“Is this fun for you?” She left out bait, and Spencer was stupid enough to fall for it. Emily once said that a pretty face slashed his IQ in half.

He couldn’t help but agree.

“Undo these cuffs, and I’ll show you what fun is.” She was toying with him now, and they weren’t going to get anywhere, but Spencer couldn’t find it within himself to get up and leave. She had him by the...

“I’m going to get that confession.” It was like he was five years old again, arguing on the playground with the older kids about how their insults didn’t make sense.

“What’re you going to do, punish me?” She asked, the last words in a hushed whisper. When Spencer’s cheeks grew hotter, and his eyes darker, she knew she had him.

“You do like to get rough! My, my, Doctor, you're keeping me at the edge of my seat here.” She let out a boisterous laugh before really digging the knife deeper. “Is that why you kept the cuffs on?”

Before he could snap back, the door flew open and Emily stood there with a tablet in her hand. “You need to see this.”

Spencer got up to leave, thankful for the reprieve even if he did have to return to the interrogation after speaking with Emily. He almost made it to the door before a voice called out behind him.

“Wait!” She called after him, the cuffs rattled when she instinctively went to reach for Spencer. “Aren’t you going to answer my question, Doctor.”

Playing chess his whole life, Spencer had never once played a game where Checkmate presented itself unexpectedly. He was always at least three moves ahead in his mind, seeing the inevitable end before he even began his gameplay. There was a first for everything, because his last move suddenly arose.

“No.”

_____

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[butterflymarks]

@recollectionblue,

[ ... ] a woven bracelet, one that he’d kept on since before he left his house, and hasn’t taken off since. it’s worn and tattered but still strong, from all of the nights he had held onto it and hoped one day he could get a new one from who had made it from him in the first place, if only it meant he could see him again. “sorry about the coins again. it’s all i could get before our usual meet up.”

"nah, don't worry about it. at least you pay," bomin crows.

kiyeon isn't sure if it's best to imply to these people that they've been screwed over before. would anyone really take the serpents seriously if they knew their deals had a 1 in 5 chance of going south? but he has a feeling that trying to tell bomin this will get him the usual response --- don't worry about it, ba-by! --- so he's content to hang back once the client says the magic words.

then he sees the woven bracelet around their wrist.

a name comes to him faster than any memory. it takes shape on his tongue: urgent, a sound he hasn't made in years. instinctively, he reaches out, awash in that familiar feeling of watching reality through somebody else's eyes. dreamlike.

but bomin moves quicker, his arm cutting between them to take the money. kiyeon blinks, sways back a little, and shifts his gaze away in some embarrassment. he's seeing things, he tells himself. he's seeing ghosts.

the memory's coming now: a summer evening, creaking chain swings, a visitor's map of this city between them. it's a place for people like us, he tells seonjae in this memory. it was in those precious early days when seonjae didn't flinch so hard every time he reached for him, and when kiyeon was still brave enough to be around him without a mask. simple days. the days filled with nothing to worry about except how soon he could finish his homework so he could go see if seonjae was around.

"hey, i appreciate it. i threw in some extras for you this time, just don't tell the others." bomin laughs, a distant sound.

kiyeon becomes aware of some rustling and realizes that bomin's been trying to give him the bag to hand over. he doesn't react in time, and bomin ends up pressing it into seonjae's gloved hand himself. kiyeon's gaze locks on that rolled-up bag and the sharp things he knows are rattling inside. what is seonjae doing with these people?

"we'll see you next time," bomin says cheerfully. then there's a hand wrapping around kiyeon's elbow and he's being tugged away. his vision fills with bomin's shoes instead. "g'night!"

he's seeing things. he's seeing ghosts. or the client had a trick like his, planting that wistful little bracelet in his mind's eye. the excuses roil around his brain, drowning out the night's white noise until they're a block away and he can’t keep quiet anymore. he cuts into bomin's idle chatter. “i have to go home."

bomin falters, sounding bewildered. "what? i thought---"

"no, i have to go home," kiyeon says, which is the last thing he does before he turns and starts back down the path they’d come.

he's seeing things. he's seeing ghosts. he goes unfollowed as he rounds the corner again, crossing familiar storefronts he'd glimpsed earlier. please don't be too late. "seonjae?" he whispers into the empty street. he's seen this movie before, this homecoming to haunted houses, lost houses, abandoned houses. he hopes it's a ghost after all. a ghost would be better than nothing.

[thegirlwhobrokeintothetardis]

Tricked Into It (Greg Gerwitz x Reader)

Word Count: 1,957

Pairing: Greg Gerwitz aka Mouse x Reader

Summary: Ever since your last breakup with someone who cheated and abused the love you had for them, you have been wary of dating. And it doesn’t help when your friend Kim Burgess won’t stop pestering you about some cute techie guy at the 21st District.

Warnings: talk of bad relationship (cheating, emotional abuse, PTSD from the relationship), descriptions of what might be an anxiety attack (I described feeling anxious but it ended up bordering on what could have almost been an attack.)

A/N: So I am working on a Kelly Severide Imagine, but I’m a but stuck on it so I came up with the idea that I take the last imagine I wrote, the other Mouse Imagine and make it into a little series of one shots, mainly cause I wanted to explore the relationship of Mouse and this librarian!reader. So this is a sort of prequel to the first Mouse imagine, how they first met which is talked about in the other imagine.

HERE is the first Librarian!Reader fic if you want to check it out!!

If you want to be added to my tags, just ASK!!

“Kim, I swear to god!”

You slammed your book shut with a snap and looked up at the Chicago police officer, aka Kim Burgess aka your best friend, in front of you. She looked almost as annoyed as you felt, rolling her eyes and sitting down on your couch across you in your reading chair. Kim had come over after her shift at the 21st District ended, and only after a couple of minutes of peace, Kim started up on her latest crusade; your love life.

“Y/N...”

“No! I get that you care, believe me, but I don’t need you trying to set me up with someone.” You said with a heavy sigh. 

Kim scooted closer to you and leaned forward, trying to catch your eye which was avoiding hers, “Hey,” She paused and waited for you to look her in the eye, “I just want you to be happy. And I think this guy is a good match for you. Much better than -”

“Don’t say their name.”

“...Fine. But Mouse is so your type!”

You were about to start arguing again when her words actually registered into your head, “His name is Mouse? There is no way that this cop’s name is Mouse.”

“Okay one, he isn’t a cop. He is a tech expert that works with Intelligence, a civilian hired by the unit and the department. And two, Mouse is just what everyone calls him, its a nickname from when he was younger.” Kim explained.

“Tech guy?” 

“Yeah, crazy smart when it comes to hacking and stuff like that. He got the job after hacking into Voight’s cell phone in like a couple of seconds. And he was in the Rangers with Jay, plus he is pretty funny and cute.”

You looked away from Kim as you thought it through. Clearly Kim was just looking out for you, but there was no way this guy, this super-smart-tech-genius-ex-ranger, could ever be interested in someone like you. You were just a simple librarian at Chicago Public Library, living alone aside from your cat companion, Geraldine. You hadn’t done anything extraordinary with your life, and as your thought process started to spiral in an anxious tizzy, you started to shake your head.

“No, no I can’t see this guy. He wouldn’t want to get stuck with some boring librarian.” You said, your body shrinking in on itself as your self confidence crumbled. All the comments your ex significant other made to you while you were still dating came popping up into your mind one after the other after the other. Comments on your weight, your looks, how you were boring and that was why they stepped out and cheated on you any chance they could. Tears were misting in your eyes and you tried blinking them away, not wanting to cry in front of Kim.

“Y/N-”

“I mean it Kim. Drop it.”

Kim looked you over and saw how you had retreated into yourself, clearly looking uncomfortable with the topic. That’s when she sighed and nodded, forcing a small smile on her face, “Okay.”

                                                        ---

A week has passed since the confrontation with Kim about that techie guy, and you were slowly trying to purge the whole instance from your head and get back to your quiet life. Every once in a while, the conversation would slide to the forefront of your mind, along with your anxiety-fueled spiral about your ex, and you would try and shake away the ordeal. It had made you feel small and disgusting thinking about your ex and how your self worth was diminished because of them, and you never wanted to go back to that place again. Even if that meant never being in another relationship again.

On Friday, you had gotten a text from Kim around midday about having a girl’s night and heading out to have a drink at Molly’s, this pub which had become pretty popular with the cops of the Intelligence Unit. You had been once before, and one of the owners, Gabbie Dawson, was really nice to you when Kim introduced her. So you agreed, excited to go out and hang out with Kim. 

Once you got out of work around 6, you got back to your small one bedroom apartment and fed Geraldine before retreating to your room to figure out what to wear. You settled on a pair of slender black pants and a long sleeved dark green blouse matched with a pair of green heels. Once you showered, dried and got your hair the exact way you like it, added a little makeup and got dressed, it was time to head out and meet Kim at Molly’s. You drove to the neighborhood where the pub was, some cars already lining the streets letting you know that Molly’s would probably be busy.

You parked, and hurried to get inside, pulling your winter coat around you a litter tighter as a gust of wind tried to chill you to the bone. The November night air was lung chilling and while you weren’t dressed like those young twenty-somethings with short dresses and no coats, you still did not want to waste another second with the wind chill. Once you got in, you saw that your assumption about the pub being busy was right, many people scattered around the bar, others in groups were seated or standing next to tables against the other wall. You looked around, trying to catch Kim’s face in the crowd but having trouble with how crowded. You pealed off your coat and made your way to the bar where you saw an older man behind the counter, cleaning off a glass. 

“Excuse me?” You said, slipping into the space in front of the bar, and accidentally grazing your arm against the guy sitting down to your right, “Oh sorry.” You said quickly to the guy, not really looking in his direction so you didn’t notice when he started staring at you in awe.

“What can I get ya?” The older man said as he put the glass down and gave you his full attention.

“I know this is probably a long shot, but my friend comes to this bar a lot and I was just wondering if you’ve seen her tonight? Kim Burgess?”

“Ah! I know Burgess. From the 21st District?”

“Yeah! Yes, that’s her.”

The man smiled before turning around and grabbing something from behind the bar and then turned back to you, “I haven’t seen her, but she called about 5 minutes ago saying that her friend would be stopping by tonight. She also said to get her a vodka cranberry on her and to give her this.”

He handed you a napkin and then turned away, most likely to get your drink ready. You looked down at the napkin with a rough note written on it, reading out loud the note, “Hey, something came up super last minute, have a drink on me and enjoy the night. Sorry, --Kim.”

“Sorry about that, kid.” The man said as he returned with your drink, giving you a warm smile that also had a hint of pity in it. 

“No problem. It’s not your fault.”

With one more smile he headed towards the other end of the bar, leaving you with your drink. You let out a sigh and brought the drink to your lips, trying to figure out what you were going to do next when a voice from next to you started speaking.

“You’re friends with Burgess?”

Looking over, it was the guy you had apologized to earlier. Now that you weren’t in a rush to find Kim, you got a good look at him. He had brown hair, you could almost consider it floppy-like if it didn’t also have a clean-cut feel to it. The man’s eyes were bright blue, and they looked at you with a mix of intrigue and surprise. He was wearing a blue button-up which matched his eyes, the first few buttons undone.

“Yeah, do you know her?” You asked. He nodded and looked down to his beer bottle, his fingers anxiously playing with the paper label.

“I-I work with her at the district.” He explained. “Are you one of her flight attendant friends?”

“No, god no. I’m a librarian at the Chicago Public Library.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

“You don’t have to lie. I know it’s boring..”

“No! I genuinely think it’s cool. I-I mean I’m not a huge book guy myself but-but I did read a lot of Shakespeare in school and that was really cool, especially the-the one about the guy who dressed as a woman to hide from a mob or something and everyone thought he was a witch?” The guy rambled, his face flushing as he tried to save himself. You smirked at the clumsiness of his words and took a drink of your cocktail.

“The Merry Wives of Windsor?” You offered, and the guy snapped at the name.

“Yeah, yeah. The whole play now that I think about it went over my head at 16. But I was too interested in the Blackhawks and code. Like-Like the game that happened the other night, I was invested until that left winger from the Rangers totally checked Hartman and they put-”

“Hartman in the penalty box! Yes!! With only 3 minutes left on the clock and the take out the best right winger on the ice.” You jumped in, a smile growing on your face as the topic of hockey came up. “If he was still playing the Blackhawks would have got at least 2 more points and would have won instead of losing to the worst team in the league.”

The guy sputtered his drink and starts laughing, and immediately think its cause you had embarrassed yourself and he was laughing at you, not what you said. That was until he smiled at you and nodded his head. 

“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”

You felt a small fluttering in you chest when he smiled, something about him not making you nervous or anxious which was a change. With a smile on your own face, you put your hand out to him, “I’m Y/N by the way. Y/N L/N.”

“Greg Gerwitz.” Greg took your hand and shook it, lingering for a couple extra seconds before pulling away. “Or you can call me Mouse.”

You froze as he said that, your eyes widening in shock. He seemed to see your reaction and frowned, “Or not?”

“No, sorry.” You said quickly, trying to recover. “It-Its just that Burgess has been trying to set me up with you for the last few weeks.”

“Wait...oh! You’re that librarian! Burgess has been telling me about you too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, says how you are the best person ever and that I would like you the minute we met.” He chuckled. Greg smirked and turned more towards you, “And she wasn’t wrong.”

You flushed, feeling the heat of your blush against your cheeks as his smirk widened. It was quiet between the two of you as the pub continued with it’s noise like it wasn’t watching the start of something amazing. Greg then spoke up, getting your attention again, “Hey, I know this might seem fast but I really like talking to you.”

“I really like talking to you too.”

“Really?” He asked, his face getting red again as his smirk melted away into a nervous smile, “Well, what would you say about a date? Maybe the Blackhawks game tomorrow?”

It took quicker than you thought, but all your anxiety from the week before seemed like a long lost bad dream and you just wanted to spend some time with Greg Gerwitz.

“I would love to.”

ONE CHICAGO TAGS: @carnationworld​ 

NORMAL TAGS:  @l4life​ @ithoughtiwasflying

[jaskierswolf]

The Love We Have

Part 4/5 - AO3 - Previous - Next

Summary: Kaer Morhen has an old tradition in order to keep the witchers safe after the siege. Only witchers and their partners are allowed in the keep but Geralt is tired of parting with Jaskier over the winter so decides to invite him to Kaer Morhen… only he forgets to mention one tiny little detail.

Ship: Geraskier

Rating: T

CW: Mentions of sex and implied sexual content

_______

“What?!” Geralt stared at Jaskier, who had one hand on his hips and the other flailing through the air like a wet fish. The last hour had been a whirlwind of emotions and Geralt was struggling to keep up. First, Eskel and Lambert’s teasing over Jaskier, which had practically given away his true feelings, and then Jaskier running off to his room, stinking of fear and regret… now this? Whatever this was supposed to be.

“We’ll tell the others that I was just being dramatic, I’m a bard after all,” Jaskier explained, a picture of nonchalance as he flicked his hand in the air, seemingly oblivious to Geralt’s inner crisis.

They stared at each other, both stubborn as mules, neither willing to back down, until Geralt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You have got to be joking.”

“Nope!” Jaskier trilled, popping the ‘p’ and winking at Geralt as if he didn’t have a care in the world. The bard’s mood swings were difficult to keep up with on the best of days but Geralt felt like he was stuck in a storm, not too dissimilar to the burst of magic that Pavetta had created all those years ago. He couldn’t move forward. He couldn’t move back. No, he was just a boat on the waves, being pulled by the currents of Jaskier’s tide.

“Fuck,” Geralt grumbled, not quite believing that he was about to agree to this. “Fine. How do we do this?”

Jaskier glanced at the bed. “Is it squeaky?”

“What?”

“The bed? Is it squeaky?”

This was ridiculous, but it was too late to back out now. He’d started this after all, dragging Jaskier all the way up this godforsaken mountain, to a crumbly keep in the middle of a harsh winter. The least he could do was let Jaskier have his fun. He would just have to hope that he didn’t get aroused and make it awkward for both of them. Well, Geralt supposed he could just blame it on the circumstances and weather the inevitable teasing from the bard. “No,” he admitted.

“So… how much will they be able to hear?” Jaskier asked, cocking his head, his hand still resting on his hip in a way that was just so entirely Jaskier.

“What?”

“Gods, Geralt. It’s like blood from a stone! Vesemir said witchers have good hearing. So our conversation now? Is that safe from prying ears?”

Geralt frowned, focussing his witcher senses. The extra set of mutagens had given him an edge over the others and from their room he could just about hear a faint murmur of voices but he couldn’t make out any words, or even who was talking. So he nodded. “We’re fine.”

“And what if we start shouting?”

“Less fine.”

Jaskier smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes as his tongue flicked out between his teeth, dragging along his lips slowly. Geralt was entranced. The air grew heavy between them and Geralt felt as if Jaskier was trying to seduce him for real, not for some silly game to trick the other witchers. A heat pooled in his core as Jaskier’s eyes roamed over his body, the same way they did when Jaskier was trying to lure some unexpecting fool into his bed.

Only now Geralt was the fool.

And it was working.

“What about moaning?” Jaskier purred, closing the gap between them, his hands splayed on Geralt’s chest. The bard’s gaze kept flicking down to Geralt’s lips, his fingers trailing along the crevices of Geralt’s heavy jumper.

Geralt swallowed, his mouth feeling too dry. What the fuck was Jaskier trying to acheive? The idiot had definitely said pretend to have sex… hadn’t he?

“Jask,” he murmured, a low warning. This had gone on long enough, and Geralt’s control was beginning to crumble. He wanted nothing more than to take the bard into his arms, to kiss that stupid grin off his face. To wreck those pretty lips that had teased him with every lick for years, with no idea of how badly it was affecting him.

“Yes, darling?” Jaskier whispered, standing so close that his breath was tickling, warm against Geralt’s skin.

The sweet scent of arousal was wafting off of the bard in waves, making Geralt feel heady, and the world seemed to fade around them until it was just the pair of them. It reminded him of their first kiss, a trial unlike any other in Geralt’s life, one to see whether they’d even have a chance of pulling off this crazy scheme, just because they hadn’t wanted to be parted for winter.

Because Geralt hadn’t wanted to be parted for winter. Every year they separated, Geralt felt like he was leaving a little more of his soul behind until he couldn’t bear it anymore. Rather than admitting the truth to Jaskier, and actually confessing his feelings, he’d been a coward. So they were pretending to be in love. Chaste kisses, fake touches, lies.

It was all lies.

By gods, he wanted it to be real.

He took a deep breath through his mouth, trying to clear his head of Jaskier’s scent. “How do we fake it?”

Jaskier’s flirtatious facade dropped, for barely a second but Geralt still saw it. He knew the bard too well to miss the subtle change in his expression, but Jaskier was an expert, a trained actor, and he masked his mistake well. For anyone else it would have worked. He plastered a grin on his face, clearing his throat as he stood back away from Geralt. Ringed fingers patted awkwardly on Geralt’s chest as the distance grew between them. “Fake it, yes. Well, I was. I was thinking some jumping on the bed, moaning, grunting, maybe some dirty talk,” Jaskier laughed, waggling his eyebrows in a way that was completely ridiculous but unbearably endearing, and Geralt wanted Jaskier back in his space. The distance was too much.

And then an idea struck him. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, tilting his head and smirking at the bard. “Won’t work.”

“Oh yeah, and how would you know?”

“I told you, we can smell it.”

“Smell… sex?”

“Yes.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide, a bright pink flush colouring his cheeks. His mouth dropped open as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Ah. Right then… well, umm. We don’t. We don’t have to…”

“They’ll wonder why, you said yourself,” Geralt murmured, once again closing the gap between them, cupping Jaskier’s cheek and running his thumb through the bristles of stubble on his jaw. The bard seemed to freeze under his touch, staring back at Geralt, his mouth dropped open, and that crackling spark between them was back, licking across Geralt’s skin. His heart felt like it was caught in his throat, a flicker of anxiety squeezing in his chest. It would be hard to explain this as just friendly banter should Jaskier reject him now.

“You want to?”

Geralt tilted his head. “Do you want to?”

Jaskier barked a laugh, his fingers flexing and coming back to gripped at Geralt’s clothes. “Only if you want to. Oh for Melitele’s sake!”

The bard crashed their lips together in a kiss, his fingers cupping the nape of Geralt’s neck, holding him close. Geralt moaned into Jaskier’s mouth as his lips parted, allowing Geralt’s tongue to slip against his. One of Jaskier’s hands trailed down Geralt’s spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake, until the bard’s fingers gripped Geralt’s arse, pressing their bodies together. Arousal and lust filled the air around them in a cloud, sweet and intoxicating, more addictive than any drug. Geralt groaned into the kiss, breaking their lips apart so Jaskier could breathe, but never letting his lips leave Jaskier’s skin that was warm and salty on his tongue. He pressed kisses along Jaskier’s jaw, nuzzling his nose into the bard’s neck as he breathed in that delicious scent, sweet chamomile and an underlying musk. Jaskier whimpered, the sound creating a quiver of vibrations in his throat, tingling against Geralt’s lips.

“Geralt,” Jaskier breathed, the name; a prayer as it rolled off his tongue, a whisper in the otherwise silent room. Geralt had never heard his name said in such a reverent manner, like he was all that mattered in the world. It was almost too much.

Witchers don’t feel.

Witchers can’t feel.

Witchers can’t fall in love.

Well, it seemed Geralt hadn’t gotten that memo when he was going through the trials. He loved, and he was so in love with this idiot that was in his arms.

Love.

Sweeter than honey.

Jaskier’s scent.

Geralt pulled back with a start, staring frantically at the bard as if he could figure everything out just by looking in those gorgeous cornflower blue eyes. It was no use, Jaskier was pouting up at him, confused and a little hurt, but there was no trace of love… not that Geralt knew what he was looking for. People looked at him with horror, fear, occasionally lust but never love. Would he even be able to tell?

“Geralt?”

“Fuck.”

Jaskier cupped his cheek, blue eyes searching and panicked. “Geralt, what’s going on? I’m not Yennefer, I can’t… I can’t read your mind. You need to talk to me, please.”

After taking a long breath, Geralt closed his eyes. “I-I… fuck.”

Jaskier’s fingers on his cheek moved, brushing a lock of hair behind Geralt’s ears, and there was a soft press of lips against his, gentle and grounding. Before it could get heated, Jaskier pulled away, resting his forehead against Geralt’s, and Geralt covered Jaskier’s hand with his own. The mood shifting from something hot and burning to something all the more intense, intimate. “It’s okay, dear heart, I understand.”

“But--”

“I love you too, Geralt,” Jaskier whispered, his breath hot against Geralt’s lips, and he said it so confidently, without any fear. There was no way those words could be taken any other way. Jaskier was in love with him.

Jaskier was in love with him.

Actually in love with him.

They were alone, no need to pretend or act or lie. This was all real, and Geralt suddenly understood why people said they were on top of the world. He felt invincible, with this delicate flower, so mortal and breakable, by his side. He could take on the most fearsome of monsters and be absolutely fine, as long as Jaskier loved him.

And that made him feel unreasonably angry. All the lies he’d been fed as a child. Love was a weakness to be exploited.

No.

Love was his strength, his greatest weapon.

“Geralt, darling…” Jaskier’s voice, low and warm like a summer’s day, snapped him from his thoughts. “I adore you but, but… can you let go?”

Geralt growled, blinking as he focussed back into the room. His fingers were digging into Jaskier’s hips, and judging by the look on the bard’s face, he was hurting him. “Shit, sorry.”

Thankfully, Jaskier just laughed, a beautiful musical sound that made warmth blossom in Geralt’s chest. “Oh darling, what is going on in there?” A long finger tapped Geralt right in the middle of his forehead, and then Jaskier placed a hand on his hip and cocked his head, a pout playing on his lips.

“Hmm, pondering on the subject of love.”

“Oh, ho, ho!” Jaskier giggled. “We shall make a poet out of you yet, witcher! And what is it about love that has got you all grumpy and scary face?”

“Witchers don’t love,” Geralt repeated the familiar words, though now they felt empty and bitter on his tongue.

Jaskier scoffed. “And yet… only significant others are allowed to Kaer Morhen? That’s still a load of bollocks, you know. As if our decades-long friendship isn’t more important than a quick summer fling.”

“But you love me.”

“Ah yes, but… oh shush. You know what I mean, Geralt!”

Geralt chuckled. “Hmm.”

“You. are. Terrible!” Jaskier snapped, clearly starting to spiral into one of his moods, but Geralt had a better idea. He scooped Jaskier up into his arms and over his shoulder in one swift movement. “Oi!”

“You talk too much.”

“And yet, you love me,” Jaskier trilled happily “Now, take me to bed, witcher. I think we’ve both waited long enough.”

Geralt chuckled, throwing Jaskier down onto the bed. The bard squeaked as he bounced on the mattress but soon regained his composure, tongue slipping between his lips as he gazed up at Geralt with a smirk. He looked beautiful, clothes already a mess and his hair tousled from their kisses and his own habit of messing it up when he got anxious. His cheeks were still a little blotchy from the earlier tears but there was no denying his beauty… almost elf like in his elegance. Geralt felt like he could stare at his bard for hours and never grow bored of the sight, but he was allowed to touch now, and that was just too tempting. Years of restraint, and now the chains were broken. He crawled onto the bed, resting between Jaskier’s spread legs and pressed their lips together, slow and lazy.

They had all night after all.

[local-ground-apple]

Can I ask fluff (and spice?) headcanons for Pomefiore and Scarabia boys turning into a 4-5 kid by accident and their s/o have to take care of them. And when they turn back normal what would their reaction? It's up to you Author-san!!!(-chan?) Oh, I and you can include some other characters too~❤❤❤

I couldn’t think of anything spicy, so maybe in another Vil one-shot I have planned

Oh, when I thought of that scenario, the first person that came to my mind was Silver, so I included him too

🏹 even as a child he is deadly. You literally have to hide his bow and arrow before his small hands land on them,

🏹 magically Rook still gets his hands on them despite your unrelenting efforts to stop him,

🏹 you absolutely cannot shift your attention from child Rook. Even in this form his footsteps are light and there’s no way you would hear them. He’s quite good in escaping your sight and you panic each time he does that. There’s a high chance you’d find Rook somewhere in Savanaclaw trying to touch Leona’s tail,

🏹 stop him, before big bad lion wakes up, 

🏹 babysitting Rook is just draining, so after each day you’re exhausted,

🏹 even as a child, Rook will still kiss your cheeks and showers you in compliments in French, even if tell him to stop. He shall not listen, 

🏹 when Rook turns human again (mostly because Crewel finally made a potion), he thanks you deeply for taking care of him. He doesn’t seem troubled by it at all, non, non. He actually enjoyed his rather short time under your wings, 

🦚 he must have somehow mess something up with the ingredients or measured something incorrectly. Needless to say, Vil is absolutely embarrassed. What about his image, how could this happen? So obviously, he blamed Rook for his current state, knowing damn well that it was his own fault. Rook decided to politely roll with it,

🦚 you literally can’t stop cooing how cute and adorable Vil is as a child (you had never seen prettier kid). He may enjoy your attention focused solely on him, but he won’t hesitate to slap your hand if you go overboard (you still find it cute),

🦚 you and Rook are self-proclaimed parents. Rook dotes on Vil, while you just do your best to keep him out of trying to produce any potions,

,,If I did it in my adult form, I can still do it, Y/N” “No, you’re a baby” “I’m not a baby!!” “Yes, you are”

🦚 Vil secretly enjoys when you give him attention. Just give him small pecks on the forehead or cheek and he will blush and turn his head around,

🦚 when he finally turns back, Vil brushes this whole accident off. He just wants to quickly forget. Of course, he appreciates every effort you had put in taking care of him and he will thank you, but deep down inside, he feels a bit embarrassed,

🦚 Vil invites for a “spa day”. It’s his way of doting on you for a whole time, as a thank you present,

🍏 Epel is simply devastated when he turns into child,

🍏 well, he’s devastated for two minutes before he throws a tantrum. A lot of tantrums,

🍏 whether you want it or not, Vil proclaims himself as a father. You both argue a lot when it comes to taking care of Epel. However, you both agree on one thing – that Rook should not participate in Epel’s upbringing,

🍏 Epel is rather aggressive, deciding it’s the best time to pay back for all that bullying he had gone through. Yes, he’s stealing Rook’s hat, hiding Vil’s lipsticks and generally pulling a lot of pranks on them. Technically, he’s a child and you’re there whenever furious dorm leader raises his hand to slap Epel,

🍏 he enjoys that he can finally annoy them and his actions go unpunished, cause you’re always there to react in time,

🍏 Epel however hates when you’re cooing over how cute he is as child. He pouts and is deeply offended. He always wanted you to view him as strong man, yet he turned into a child and you just can’t stop saying how adorable he is,

🍏 he will do his best to prove to you that he’s still capable of handling a lot of things, which leads to rather hazardous situations and you always have a mild panic attack, whenever Epel tries something. May it be trying to climb the tree to save the cat, shooting an arrow from Rook’s bow or accidentally spilling Vil’s poison everywhere, you literally have no break with him,

🍏 when he turns back, he just wants to forget about this. He appreciates your help and he will shyly thank you for it. But please don’t bring those awful memories ever again. Epel will flush and clench his fists at the mere mention,

🦂 chaos. Absolute chaos,

🦂 after a day spent on taking care of Kalim, you don’t even know what’s your name, what date is it or whether Jamil is alive,

🦂 you and Jamail join forces to stop the apparently powerful forces of destruction known as Kalim Al-Asim or just preventing the poor child from accidentally hurting himself,

🦂 make sure you locked the door leading to magical carpet properly. Double check just in case, 

🦂 Kalim is cheerful and careless as a teenager, but when he’s a child, it’s a whole new level for you. During these few days, you’re always busy making sure he doesn’t injury himself or create a bigger mess. You often dance and sing with this child, making him more than happy,

🦂 you two didn’t invite Jamil to your pillow fort,

🦂 when Kalim turns back into a teenager, the first thing he does is showering you in kisses. Literally, a lot of kisses. He’s grateful that you went through trouble and took care of him. He will gladly return the favor, so expected that for the next few days Kalim will treat you like a princess,

🐍 oh boy, you thought he would be a calm child and that those few days would pass rather quickly. How wrong you were,

🐍 he tried to hypnotise Kalim into lending him magical carpet and he tried to make you give him the candies with his unique magic. Fortunately, you weren’t impressed with his attempts and you politely refused,

🐍 Jamil is surprised when you tell him that kitchen is off-limits. You don’t let him cook, too afraid that he will burn himself. However, he enjoys observing you cooking for him. He sits calmly watching you mix ingredients and in those moments, you could swear that he’s the most docile and well-behaved child you had ever seen,

🐍 he’s not,

🐍 he plays small pranks on Kalim and you have to admit that they’re somehow funny. You may even giggle whenever Jamil manages to play an innocent trick on fellow dorm leader, 

🐍 Kalim threw a party and Jamil, of course, got lost in the crowd. Guess you will never get a decent break. You spent half of the evening trying to find small child, only to be surprised when he was being babysitted by Azul and Leech twins, 

🐍 let’s just say that you’ve never snatched a child from someone’s arms so quickly, 

🐍when he turns back, Jamil just wants to forget. Just forget about everything,

🐍 of course, he will try to recompensate your efforts. He wants to take care of you too as his way of appreciating you. He knows that he was a pain in the ass, but he’s willing to make up for this,

⚔️ Lilia is more than delighted, bah, he’s overjoyed. It’s just like few years ago when Silver was small and he can be a father again,

⚔️ Lilia absolutely knows what he’s doing, while you’re purely confused, Sebek may be laughing, but stops when you threaten him to give a potion to turn him into a child too. Malleus is intensively looking for a cure, 

⚔️ Lilia lets you babysit Silver, even though he assures you that he will manage on his own,

,,I seriously want to help you. I’m his girlfriend after all” “If you insist, Little One”

⚔️ you moved to Diasomnia for few days and you were complaining all the time that it’s way too cold for a child there. You and Silver spent a lot of time in the woods. You seriously coo way too much how adorable he looks surrounded by animals, 

⚔️ Silver hates when Lilia jokingly says that now, instead of his girlfriend, you’re Silver’s “self-proclaimed mum” . He just can’t stand you and Lilia acting like a caring parents, he just can’t,

,,No, she’s my girlfriend, not your self-proclaimed wife, old man” “Oh? Five-years old doesn’t have a girlfriend” 

⚔️ Lilia is just joking, don’t worry,

⚔️ ancient fae had told you way too many stories from Silver’s childhood to his liking. You had also seen a ton of pictures of baby Silver, 

⚔️ Silver is generally a calm child and you have practically no troubles taking care of him. He’s either asleep half of the time or purely embarrassed. No in between, 

⚔️ when Silver turns (finally) back, first thing he does is hugging you tightly, while pressing kisses all over your face - on forehead, cheeks, lips, 

⚔️ generally, he’s grateful for your time. Oh, and he’s extremely embarrassed. Sebek will literally never let him forget about this incident, unless you and waka-sama has a serious “talk” with this first year, 

[pastelpaperplanes]

Part 5

Optimus had never worn as little as he was in that moment, and considering the situation, he would normally be a lot more anxious about it, but when you're suspended this high off the ground with only two thin strips of fabric holding you up, that was the least of your worries at the moment.

Jadarite, Eion and Calipso were all on the ground, calling up words of encouragement to him as he managed to get the wrap around his torso properly. 

Unverlo was up in the rigging alongside some of the workers who maintained said rigging, mostly there to let him know if something got tangled and they’d have to drop him onto the massive padded mat directly under him on the stage.

He took a moment before he began the next stunt to question how Jadarite had even got him into this.

Something about his upper frame physique and how the crowd would love it?

After that thought was done, he let himself go, letting the flow of the fabrics let him spin around and around and around.

Just as he was about to hit the mat, he shifted, and the roll stopped, leaving a perilous amount of fabric left underneath him and his optics having to recalibrate to adjust to the sudden change in depth.

There was a round of applause from those around him as he put his servos and knees to the mat and untangled himself from the fabrics.

Once they were free hanging again, Unverlo and the mechs up in the rigging started to pull it all back up for storage, that had been the last trick he had wanted to get right, so the session was over.

Jadarite offered her servo to him, which he took as she helped him off the mat. “You’re a natural Pax, the crowds gonna love you even more when you get up the confidence to do it in front of them.” She praised, shifting to walk with him off the stage and down to where the tables and chairs were for the guests, a servo resting on his opposite shoulder as the predominantly white femme led him down and around to the doors that led to the network of workers only corridors that would in turn lead to the dressing rooms. 

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “You sure Boss? I’m still feeling pretty wobbly.”

Jadarite chuckled with a lot more conviction than his own. “How many times do I have to tell you I’ve got an optic for talent Pax? Everyone is wobbly to start with! Why when I was at your level of experience I ran face first into a pole in the middle of a performance and knocked myself out!” She exclaimed, whacking her forehelm with her palm to emphasise the incident. 

He gave her an awkward chuckle. “Hopefully I don’t do that…”

She went to reply back when the ships intercom came to life, and one of the Captains, it wasn’t easy to tell which with just the voice, started to speak. ::Attention all Passengers and Crew, we will soon be arriving at the Intergalactic Port, Galvara-5, if this is your departure call, please make sure you have everything you have brought with you packed away, as we will not be turning around for an errant data pad. For those who are not departing us at Galvara-5, we will be docked for two cycles, if you are not back on the ship exactly two cycles after we arrive, we will leave without you.::

He made a face. “That’s a bit harsh…”

Jadarite shrugged. “Think of it from their perspective, The Polaris is a literal city, does a city stop for one data pad?”

“No?”

“No, plus, being blunt about this and having it as part of the policy prevents grounds for lawsuits… it’s been company policy since the time of their Grandsire being in charge of the fleet.” She explained. 

Optimus nodded. “That makes sense… so… Galvara-5? What’s it like? I’ve never been off Cybertron before.” He explained. 

“Oh it’s hectic, because The Polaris and the rest of the fleet have it as their first docking spot after Cybertron, there’s always at least ten companies fighting and throwing money to have their cargo to get the fast track treatment.” She explained. “That’s something the Captains handle though, everyone else gets two cycles to hit up the clubs and tourist traps that have sprung up since the Fleet started using this place, before the Fleet took it as their first landing spot, it was apparently a pretty standard space port, now, it’s supersized and handles everything coming through this Quadrant, The Polaris is still the largest docking ship by leagues, of course.” She puffed up a bit as she stated that.

That was something he noticed, all the mechs and femmes who worked on this ship seemed to hold a great deal of pride, especially those like Jadarite, who felt like someone who knew the ins and outs of the ship better than she knew how to dance, which was saying something, he’d seen her during some of the shows, she could cut a rug and make artwork out of it.

“So, want to see Galvara-5 for yourself?” Jadarite offered. “We don’t have to put on shows during docking periods, it’s expected most bots will get off to take in the scenes and sights instead.” 

He shrugged. “If that’s the case I certainly don’t mind.” 

Jadarite beamed. “Wonderful, we can all go as a group and do a bar crawl! How does that sound?”

He chuckled. “Sounds good… so long as I’m not the only one carrying everyone’s drunk afts back to the ship. Especially Drakus, I don’t know about you, but I might need to go see Dust for a thrown out back strut if I tried to carry him!”

Drakus was the ‘big mech’ of the entertainment department, and was apparently very good at tossing the smaller bots into the air for more dramatic stunts, luckily Optimus was just above the weight that Dust allowed the mech to toss. 

Jadarite chuckled in turn. “Ah’ll remember that kiddo! Now how about you go and get changed out of that get up? Hmm? Before a lost passenger sees you and catches feelings!” She jested, nudging him ahead of her and into the changing rooms. 

Suddenly reminded of just how little he was wearing, Optimus yelped and tried to cover himself up, earning another truly raucous laugh from Jadarite. 

Cybertron

Megatron had to admit, he was having a hard time paying attention to what he was doing. 

He had the star map for the Trans Galactic fleet folded up on one side of his desk, if the Polaris was making good time, they’d be arriving at Galvara-5 soon, and hopefully one of his friends would have the chance to give him a call. 

He was itching to hear about Orion, make sure the dancer was doing alright. 

He’d sprung the change of employers so quickly on the mech, he’d wanted to give him time to pack and the like, but his concerns over Shockwave pulling something had overruled that wish. 

A knock at his door drew his attention away from the paper work he’d been looking at without actually reading. “Come in.” He spoke. 

The door opened and he would admit to himself, he was surprised to see who walked in. “Blackarachnia?” He asked in surprise as the femme walked in. 

The femme, known infamously as the Queen of the Insecticons, looked murderous, melt a poor soul into the sidewalk for being within her vicinity murderous, he was surprised Lugnut let her reach his office with that expression. He might need to go and check for his body...

“What. The frag did you do?” The femme hissed out. 

“You know full well your going to have to be more specific than that.”

“Optimus. What the fuck did you do to him!” She snapped, lips pulled back in a snarl. 

“Who?” He asked, he’d never heard of a mech called ‘Optimus’. He had a feeling BlackArachnia was misplacing her anger. “BlackArachnia, if one of your… associates has gone missing, I am not the one responsible.”

She blinked at him dumbstruck for a moment before snarling again. “Don’t pull that slag with me! You’re in deep slag you idiot! The Elite Guard’s started a murder investigation on you!” She snapped out. 

His optic ridges shot up. “...What…”

She nodded. “You killed their informant. I knew him… he… he used to be my friend… before… this…” She gestured to herself. “Words spreading fast… surprised you didn’t hear about it before me… So… what the frag… did you do… to Optimus?”

He shook his helm. “I’ve never met a mech by the designation ‘Optimus’.” He tried to explain. 

She sighed. “Baby blue face, bright blue helm piece with finals, waist that should not be supporting a chassis as broad as his?” She began to list off. 

That was all he needed to hear for his attention to go to a black and white photo on his desk, framed in a quaint wood frame, he slowly turned it to face her. “Your… Your describing Orion.” 

“Orion? Frag… he used a cover name… wait… you didn’t know he was an informant?”

Megatron felt something in his spark drop. “No… I didn’t…”

She looked at him confused. “Then… why did you kill him?”

“I didn’t!” He exclaimed, affronted at the very idea of him being responsible for Orion… Optimus… Orion’s death. “He’s not dead!”

“Then where is he?! He was Magnus’ favourite once upon a time! And he’s using the fact that he’s not been seen in weeks to build a murder case on you! They’ve had ships trawl the docks for his body!”

He froze then. “What… wait… the docks?”

She nodded. “Yes! Everyone knows you took him to the docks with Lugnut and Shockwave! Everyone… came to the conclusion you… put him in the Docks… you didn’t… put him in the docks…” 

He shook his helm. “No… I had his contract changed from being in my name, to the name of an old friend. He’s on their ship as we speak.” 

BlackArachnia’s shoulders dropped in relief. “He’s not dead…” 

He nodded, but his expression soured. “Now that we’ve established that… what’s this about him being an informant?”

BlackArachnia made a face. “That I don’t know much about… but what I do know is… it’s a scandal in the Elite Guard… Magnus apparently never cleared this… Sentinel Prime went behind his back and made Optimus work as an informant for him… Optimus wasn’t part of the Guard… he was a civilian… that it seems… Sentinel strong armed into getting information on you for him… That’s all that’s gotten out into the rumour mill so far…” She explained. 

He hummed and intertwined his digits. “The ship with… Optimus… on it… is soon to arrive on Galvara-5… I will address the Captains and see about getting proof that he is alive and well on the ship… that will hopefully enough to clear me of murder when a trial comes… Thank you BlackArachnia… for bringing this all to my attention… Now I know to be prepared...” 

BlackArachnia nodded and took that as her que to leave. 

It would seem, it was more than just Sol and Neb that he would need to speak with on the Polaris… directly. 

The Polaris Bridge.

Nebularburst yawned as she watched the bid prices roll in, Solarstorm was handling the auction itself in Galvara-5’s trading hall, everytime they flew through here, wealthier and wealthier companies and syndicates were throwing more money at them to get their stuff along the flight path they had. 

A chipper autotone voice pipped up from the main console. “Tired Pilot?”

Nebular snorted. “Me? Tired? Child who do you think you are suggesting that?”

The voice snickered through the speakers. “This child~ Who knows you haven’t recharged in four cycles.”

“You’ve been using the security cameras in our quarters to spy on me again… haven’t you?”

“........... Fraggit…”

“POLS!”

“Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” The voice yipped.

Nebularburst sighed, rubbed the sides of her helm. “No… no… I’m sorry… I know it’s pointless thinking we can have you keep some of your innocence… what with what we have you do on the outer rim…”

“What I do on the outer rim is my duty… I’ve known my duty since the cycle you brought me online… I should still try not to swear like those who work in my engines...”

She patted the console gently. “It’s okay… HOLY FPPPFTTT…” She suddenly exclaimed, puffing out her cheeks to stop herself from cursing as she pointed at the sudden spike from the Auction count. “Someone just bet a brand new mining colony filled with rare ores!” 

“WHAT?!”

“... Looks like we’re going to be even more busy now…”

“Think there will be useful stuff to be found?”

“I don’t know… but it looks like that plus a whole warehouse full of credits is the winning bid… the others are declining raising the stakes… Looks like the Prince of the Empire of Falgranum… Wonder what he wants us to ship for that much…” She mumbled. 

She didn’t get anymore time to ponder as the bridges com-link was pinged by a familiar number. 

Nbbularburst beamed. “It’s Megzy!” And sent the clearance for the call to go through. 

:We need to talk.:

Her optic ridges shot up. That didn’t sound good. 

[soldierswar]

Kobik - Chapter IX

Bucky x Reader

Fluff, some angst

Chapter Plot: Kobik meets the people that can help her. But that means you have to face what's to come in the near future.

Masterlist

Kobik could not have looked any more adorable. She was dressed in a little sailor’s outfit with bows at the base of her pigtails.

She was sitting on the floor of the observation room playing Jenga by herself with an impossibly tall stack of blocks trying to grab the most difficult ones without knocking the tower over using nothing but her telepathic powers. Sometimes she would do great, and other times it would come tumbling down before she’d frustratedly put it back together within half a second. Sometimes she’d catch it before the blocks could hit the floor, and you could tell that alone was a little triumph of her own.

You and Bucky amusedly watched her from behind the one-sided glass.

You had convinced SWORD and the scientists to give Kobik a week to recover and unwind before having to adjust to a new life again. By ‘you’ you meant Bucky did the convincing. He charismatically reasoned to the director of this whole case that Kobik was tired, severely anxious, and needed to decompress in order to avoid another episode.

To be fair, he wasn’t bullshitting them at all…For the most part. But if it were up to you to do the convincing instead of your 'too handsome for his own good' husband who you were pretty sure that the director had a crush on…it wouldn’t have happened.

Bottom line, you got to spent a wonderful week with Kobik.

You went to the movies, went on picnics, and sometimes indulged on ice cream in the middle of the night watching Disney movies that Bucky had previously refused to get caught up on since you got married.

As of then, it was one of the happiest weeks of your life. Kobik had come with the two of you for your first ultrasound. And much to your and Bucky’s surprise, Kobik was 100% right. You were in fact 3 months along, and they were pretty sure that it was a girl.

“I told you so,” she shrugged nonchalantly when they gave you that news.

Bucky side-eyed you giving you a look that said, ‘How the hell did you now know about this?’  And as scared as he looked, you could also tell that he was already kind of in love with your child. Just as you were.

Kobik didn’t know that you were watching her from behind the glass exhibiting the room where she would be meeting who would essentially be her new family.

There were so many times during the past week that you wanted to crawl on your knees and beg Bucky to keep her. And low key, you could tell that Bucky wanted to give in. But ironically, the only reason why you didn’t let that happen was because of the love that you had for her. So you and Bucky decided to look at it as an open adoption.

Unfortunately, it didn’t make you feel much better most of the time.

Kobik’s head whipped around when she heard the door open. When she saw who it was, she looked a little bit shy.

“Hi there,” said the woman giving her a smile.

She had a soft, and warm voice. Her husband had his hand placed a loving hand on her back; much like how Bucky was with you when you were nervous.

“Hi,” she replied wide-eyed.

“I’m Kobik.”

They both chuckled lightly before crouching down to sit on the floor in front of her.

Bucky gave you the rundown on who this couple was. As mentioned before, they were excellent scientists specializing in the kind of matter that Kobik was made out of. Cosmic energy.

They looked to be in their early to mid-forties. The man whose name was Adrian was tall, slim, and had a mixture of thick dark brown and silver hair. The woman whose name was Hazel also seemed really lovely. She looked to be maybe a couple of years younger than Adrian. Like her husband she was also slim with long brown hair with soft facial features and looked to be about as tall as you.

“Do you want to see what I can do?” Kobik asked timidly.

Hazel smiled.

“Absolutely.”

Kobik furrowed her brows in deep thought about what kind of party trick she wanted to do. After thinking about it she held her hands upwards and they watched as one by one the Jenga blocks floated up into the air and shifted them in mid-air to make different shapes like castles, faces, and hearts.

The couple both looked at her in amazement. When Kobik saw how they reacted to her little tricks she automatically seemed less shy and was now very proud about winning them over. She seemed to like them just as much as they seemed to like her.

You didn’t realize that Bucky was holding your hand until he started squeezing it. He was feeling the same thing that you were feeling. You knew that she was going to be okay. She would be happy and well taken care of. But he was going to miss her.

“She’s only an hour away,” you reminded him, stroking his hand with your thumb.

He nodded and gave you a melancholic smile.

“One hour.”

…

After Kobik spent about an hour and a half getting to know her new…guardians, they finally left the observation room to come meet you.

You had left the viewing area to grab lunch. Or rather…second lunch. Of course, when they came up to you, you didn’t even notice for about ten seconds because you were too busy stuffing a large burrito into your face.

“She’s hungry a lot,” Kobik pointed out.

“She blames it on the baby.”

They had a look of delight on their face when she said that, and you couldn’t help but smile proudly.

“I’m sorry, I’d shake your hand,” you said trying to hide your half mouthful of food.

“But I kind of have burrito on my hands. And sorry Bucky had to go take a phone call.”

“It’s okay,” Hazel reassured.

“We’ve met him already. We just wanted to get to know you a little bit more.”

They sat on the other side of the table, and Kobik used her powers to summon a chair from the next table over to your side to sit next to you.

“Well…What would you like to know?”

…

You and Bucky walked into your empty house already feeling like something was missing. And of course, it was that little rambunctious, stubborn, and playful little human manifested cosmic energy with the biggest heart.

You missed hearing her little giggles or hearing random things shift around because she couldn’t bother to walk over to do or get something like a normal person. This sometimes leads to flying objects hitting other objects and sometimes breaking.

You missed snuggles on the couch. You hoped that she could still get snuggles, even if it was without you. But most of all, you missed seeing Bucky act like a dad the whole time that she was there. Granted, that emptiness would soon be filled by your own little bundle.

It had been 5 days since Kobik’s first meeting with Adrien and Hazel, and most importantly since you had met them. You knew that you had to like them in order for you to be comfortable with handing Kobik over to them. You wanted to hate them, but when you saw how sweet they seemed, it was impossible.

They had given you a brief history of their personal and professional lives. They talked about their methods on what they would be studying with Kobik, how they would try to help her and expand on the research that the previous scientists in Europe were discovering.

When you asked about whether or not she would be spending most of her time in a lab, Hazel took out an iPad from her purse and showed you a tour of what her room would look like, and the place where they would be working. Their studies would all be taking place in their own home so that they could do their research in private. And by the look at the way Kobik was responding to it, you felt a lot better. They even said that you could come to visit as much as you wanted. That won you over.

But you knew that there was a high chance that Bucky may or may not ‘check in’ on her without their knowledge.

“What are we gonna do now with this empty, and quiet place?” you sighed.

Bucky dropped his jacket on the nearest chair.

“Exactly what we did before,” he replied.

“And enjoy as much sleep as we can get…I’ve heard something about babies crying all of the time.”

You playfully punched him on the arm and wrapped your arms around his torso for comfort.

“I have a surprise for you,” Bucky said.

You looked up at him curiously.

“Oh?”

He nodded.

“Well…What is it? Where is it?”

Bucky gave you that familiar mischievous smile and shrugged.

“You’re going to have to wait until tomorrow.”

“Then why tell me about it today?” you whined.

He winked.

“You know I love watching you anticipate.”

You crossed your arms like a four-year-old.

“Well if you won’t tell me, I’m making you go out and buy me ice cream right now.”

He rolled his eyes and grabbed his jacket and keys.

“Cookies and Cream it is.”

@buckylove123 @teenagedreams-bucky @typicalnerd98 @veroxloki @white-wolf-buckaroo @acciosiriusblack @pastel-boy-sungjae @flightsandfantasy @noiralei @unstablesleepygal @general-latino

[undercoverwizardfanfiction]

Drowning Chapter 1:

No Good Deed

Summary: “Are you ok?” Donnie calls. “If you’re dead let me know. I have dibs on your comics if something happens to you.”

Characters: Leo and Donnie

Pairings: [sitting in rocking chair] Ya know, in mah day we didn’t ship ever living breathing thing.

“Yes they did Charmy you were just in denial-“

“SHUT UP DENNIS IM BEING OLD AND WISE!”

warning: slight injury and blood and feral writer

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

“-then put out fire by peeing no get invited back.”

Leo was grateful he had paused in eating his popcorn out of his backwards hoodie hood as he snorted loudly letting out a loud laugh that no one on earth would think was likable. “Chandler you so get me,” he says, readjusting his position on the armchair and watching the shenanigans continue. The living room was covered in empty soda cans and popcorn he had been trying to trick shot into his mouth (his track record was less than impressive) his blanket gave out a crunching noise every time he shifted around. “Chandler you are a treasure this world does not deserve.” He reaches for another soda only to come up empty. He frowns as he rolls over and looks into his cooler to find his supply had dwindled, “Awww.” He presses pause on the tv and rolls onto the floor. His butt is so numb that he isn’t sure he had one anymore. But he finally manages to climb to his feet and make his way through the too quiet lair. But his arduous journey revealed that all the sodas he had bought had mysteriously disappeared.

The red slider turtle throws his head back and wails in despair, “DONNNNNIEEE!!!!” With all the dramatics of a theatre mom he fumbles and flails his way into his brother’s room, lit only by his computer screen. “Donnie didn’t you hear me?!?!?!”

“I did and I ignored you,” Donnie responds only by looking at his other monitor, “Obviously.”

“But Donnnieieee I’m thirssttttty and there’s no more ‘Jalapeño Oh No' soda in the fridge!!!” he drapes himself over his brother like a dramatic blanket. “Go buy me sooooome.”

“Ummm.” Don makes a show of thinking. “No? I’m going with no.”

Leo puffs up his cheeks. He knew there was very little chance of Donnie doing as he wanted but it still hurt. Instead, he turns his attention to Don’s screens. “Blue prints? Are you finally getting your revenge on Webster’s headquarters for changing the spelling of theater?”

“No, that’s next week.” Don scoots his seat back and at first Leo isn’t sure what he’s doing then realizes he’s giving him room to see the screen. “This is the power grid I have set up around the sewers. It controls the security, intercepts anything that could be given to the city, and warns me of any overflow.” He taps the screen over the darkened area that, judging by Leo’s estimate, takes over at least ten blocks. “This is interference. I need to get down there and figure out what’s going on. Unfortunately, it has to wait till Raph and Dad get back.”

“What why?” This was almost better than tv, this was something to do. “You need a spotter right? I’ll go with you!”

Donnie throws his head back with a loud obnoxious laugh. “Ha HA no, you’re the worst spotter ever. Last time you made me play ‘what am I sliding down your shell?’“

“I won't do that this time!” Probably. Leo couldn’t help the pout that escapes him as he crosses his arms. But Donnie has already turned back to his computer to try to remotely fix it from his location. Leo, not having the energy to go back to the living room, pulls over one of Don’s spare chairs and sits down. Though he plays on his phone, he keeps glancing at Donnie to make sure he knew that he was annoyed. But after a few minutes Don’s phone went off with Raph’s name on the caller ID.

Leo snatches the phone up first and puts on his best Donnie impression, ”You are conversing with Dorkatellosaurous-“ but suddenly he feels Donnie pinch him on his arm. The sudden pain makes him drop the phone with a more than dramatic yelp. Donnie easily catches the phone out of the air, ”THIS is Donatello, that was just our most annoying brother ever,” he says twisting in his seat long enough to kick out at him. But the red slider dodges with a maniacal giggle as he slides out of range of further violence.

Leo can’t hear the other side of the conversation. But Don’s brow furrows. “What still? I told you, if you want Mikey to get a tetanus shot willingly you have to bribe him. I don’t care how many times he bit you- he bit Draxum too?” Donnie shakes his head, slapping at Leo as he snorts. Leo had always thought he was the worst one when it came to getting shots. Except the sight of a needle always seemed to bring out Mikeys most animalistic instincts. “Ok, so get a broom, chase him out from the chimney and get home.” Donnie hangs up his phone with a sigh as he leans back in his seat. Leo scoots his chair closer again with his fists both tucks under his chin with a big grin. Donnie peers at him from between his fingers before giving out a loud sigh.

——————-

“-So apparently Ross’s lesbian ex-wife, by the way good for her, is pregnant with his son. And Ross doesn’t get along with her new partner. What was her name?” Leo thinks hard (almost as hard as Donnie is trying to ignore him) as he side-steps a puddle barely illuminated by the swinging light that lines the sewer tunnel. “Sally??Sarah-“

“Susan,” Donnie says without looking up from his tech gauntlet.

“Suzan!” Leo snapped his fingers. ”Knew I’d remember it!! Wait, is it a Suzan with a Z or Susan with as s-“ he is so enraptured he didn’t notice Donnie reaching over and flicking him hard on the side of the head. “Ow! What??”

“I know you’re excited to watch a sitcom literally everyone has seen, but I need you to focus on what you’re doing. You can info dump on me when we get back I promise.”

“I am, I ammmm! I’m just having fun! I think Ross is my favorite character so far.”

“I.” Donnie blinks and stops walking,” Ross? Monica’s older brother Ross?”

“Yeah, I mean you don’t? He’s a – a- palllytollygist-“-“

“-A paleontologist, you could not have says that more wrong-“

“-HE likes dinosaurs just like you do! You’ve seen every Jurassic Park, World AND Land Before Time movie twenty times a year.”

Donnie raises his head and opens his mouth like wants to say something before shaking his head as though deciding against it. “Nope, gotta find out for yourself.” He returns to his gauntlet even as Leo glared at him. Which probably meant that Donnie was debating spoiling the series for him right then and there, not that it would be the first time (they had a bad habit of ‘spoil revenging’ each other and it was definitely Donnies turn). “Ok Leo we’ll get this done so you can get back to your twenty seven year old sitcom.” Ah, so the villain was going to wait till Leo had something he wanted and hold his spoilers hostage? Leo couldn’t lie, he’d do the same thing.

“And I am sorry I pulled you away, I would have done this alone except the last time I did both Dad and Raph lectured me for two hours.” Donnie rolls his eyes tiredly. “And since they're both at Draxum’s trying to give Mikey a tetanus shot I really had no choice in the matter.”

“Eh, it’s ok bud. My butt was getting numb anyway.” Leo says with a wide grin. He knew just as well as Donnie how important it was to have a spotter when out doing maintenance in the sewers.

Ever since they were tots Splinter had lectured over and over again about the dangers of the sewers (sometimes with facts, sometimes with sock puppets; once in song). But it was a danger they had to eventually learn how to live with so there were certain rules. One of the biggest ones was to never venture in the sewers alone. This was the rule Don broke more than anyone else, more so because of all the sensors and security he had set up around the sewers to help keep their lair safe from the dangers of over-flooding and discovery. So in a way Leo was proud Donnie had actually gotten him rather than rolled his eyes and gone out on his own.

They came to a fork in the path when Donnie stopped walking, looking from the left and right tunnel to his gauntlet, tapping it lightly with the side of his fist. “See? that’s the problem,” Donnie explaines, “When the wires get corrupted it's not as easy to follow the path.” Leo had been about to ask what they should do when the lights in the left tunnel flicker. “There we go, that’s what we’re looking for.” He gestures for Leo to follow before a stick with a light on the end lights up the darkening tunnel. Leo follows close to his brother’s shell. Don, without looking at him, pats him on the hand. “It’s ok. In and out. Once we get the power fixed the lights will be back on.”

“Right.” He knows that. It wasn’t that Leo was afraid of the dark, but was more afraid of what the dark held. Alligators, mutant gold fish, realtors. They finally reached an opening. In the dark Leo could see something sparking from the wall that had to be the source of Donnie’s problem. It overlooks a large tunnel not unlike that one they tubed down except this one was dry. And it had a rusty metal railing to keep someone from falling down. Overall, it wasn’t the best kept tunnel. Donnie taps his gauntlet a few times and a moment later the power box finally stops sparking leaving the only visible light coming from Donnie’s battle shell, at first Leo worries it wouldn’t be enough before the light begins to swell again.

“There we go.” Donnie pulls out a static pen from his bag. “Now you stand there, don’t touch anything, and when Raph and Dad get back vouch for me ok?”

“No prob, bud,” Leo says with a mock salute. “But couldn’t you have just done this from the lair?”

“I wish. I probably could have at some point but eventually the damage became so bad that I couldn’t even get a reading let alone redirect anything.” From his tone Leo could tell that his brother regretted putting it off so long. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was the oozequitos crisis or the shredder crisis that kept him from down here. Donnie opens the rusty power box with ease. The fact the hinges were in good shape told Leo he had been maintaining it at some-point. After a few seconds of poking Donnie steps back and taps his gauntlet again. The room lights up fully. “There we go. That’s one problem solved,” he says before disappearing behind the panel again.

Soon all there is, is the sound of the soldering pen hissing against the wires. After a bit, Donnie reaches into his battle shell and pulls out a few cables, hooking them into the power box, not offering Leo an explanation. Without the dark to occupy his unfounded fears, it didn’t take long for boredom to take over. With a groan he walks over and leans on the railing and pulls out his phone. Puffing up his cheek in irritation when he lacks a signal to do little more than use his calculator app. “Don’t you have a signal booster in your battle shell?”

“Not this one. It won't take long, just be patient,” Donnie says.

Damn it, so much for getting to the season one finale. He’s about to start his favorite nonmobile game, ‘see how long it takes to annoy Donnie,’ when a rumbling fills the air, trembling the stone beneath his feet. “OK, wow.” Leo looks around. “That was you right? Or is Raph really really hungry?”

“Yes, don’t worry, it wasn’t the alligator real estate agent.” Well, that shows Leo for telling him about his nightmares. “I’ll be done in a sec.”

“OK, cool. Do you want to order pizza when we get-“ Leo puts his hand on the railing to stand up when there’s a snapping of metal and his support suddenly disappears. He flails his arms with a shriek before he falls over the edge, rolling down the rounded wall and coming to a stop at the bottom with his face on the ground.

“Are you ok?” Donnie calls. “If you’re dead let me know. I have dibs on your comics if something happens to you.”

After a few seconds of blinking, he lets out a weak laugh, “Y-yeah I'm good.”

“Ah hell. I mean great!” the soft shell says in a way that’s clearly for Leo's amusement. The red slider grins, though still dazed from the fall, rises up on his knees, and goes to stand up when he suddenly feels a tug on his right ankle. He looks down to see it in a large crack in the ground. “Uhhh.” He pulls again. “Donnie? Buddy? I’m stuck.”

“Of for the love of-really?” Donnie’s face appears over the edge, leaning over as much as his battle shell (still connected to the panel) allows him and frowns. “Ok, hold on tight klutz. Let me finish this up and I’ll-“ a red flashing light suddenly reflects off the back of Donnie’s head that catches his attention. He looks over towards the panel before he disappears from sight. The sound of typing fills the air before pausing. “Oh f-“

“Donnie?” Leo crouches down, trying to find a weak point to pull his ankle away. But the sharp rocks had already torn through his spats and were now dangerously close to tearing his skin. Another rumbling sound fills the air followed by a new beeping sound coming from where Donnie was.

“Leo, get out of there now.” Donnie appears at the edge again, pulling hard against the cords. “NOW.”

“I-I can’t, I told you!” Leo makes a show of yanking again. “I’m stuck-“ Another rumbling fills the air, loud enough to drown the beeping that Leo now realizes are alarms. This time the sound didn’t fade and instead begins to echo around him. It took a long terrifying moment for him to realize the echoing was coming from the tunnel he was now in. The loose pebbles on the ground trembling from the force-

Donnie appears by his side, kneeling down, also grabbing a hold of Leo’s ankle. “It’s ok, Leo. It’s ok,” he promises yanking on it. Leo tries to pull on his leg but it only results in a splitting pain going up his ankle.

“OW!” he snaps. Donnie looks to him desperately before pulling out his bo staff and slamming it hard on the ground by the crack trying to loosen the grip before he looks back towards the rumbling.

“I’m going to blast it,” he says as his staff flips around to a pronged mode Leo didn’t recognize that began to hum and let off a light between the points.

“Don’t!” Leo begs, “You’ll break my leg-“

“Would you rather have a broken leg or a-“ Don’s eyes look past Leo and widen in terror. Leo looks back in time to see a giant wave of water twist around the corner of the tunnel and come crashing towards them. A perfect vision of his oldest nightmare that freezes his body. Before he can think of making a noise or crying out, he feels an arm wrap tightly around his chest and another cover his mouth and nose.

The water crashes over them, knocking all sense and logic out of him along with a stabbing pain shooting up his hip. The water pulls on him and his caught ankle like a balloon in a strong storm. The water is darker than Leo’s worst fears, burning his eyes, and for a moment he wonders if the burning is from the water or his tears joining it-

The grip around his chest tightens and suddenly he remembers he’s not alone. A light shoots past his sight and he feels the crack around his ankle explode, finally releasing it. He instinctively tries to kick it when the pain returns and his tears redouble. But the arm around his chest pulls him upward. He wants to twist around to see his brother, but the water is too strong and he worries how Donnie is able to swim against such a strong current, before remembering hearing Donnie brag about how soft shell turtles were natural swimmers.

It’s only when they break the surface does the hand over Leo’s mouth and nose disappear and he’s heaved onto the pathwy. The red slider quickly rolls away from the water’s edge. He can barely hear his own coughing over the gushing wave slowly calming down. He feels hands pulling him up into a sitting position and he’s held tightly to Donnie’s chest. The water has already robbed them both of any warmth but he clings to his brother. “It’s ok. It’s ok, bud. I got you.” Donnie says. Leo hides his face in Don’s shoulder, a mixture of coughing out the dead air in his lungs and his sobs of terror, gripping Donnie’s bicep for dear life as the soft shell strokes the back of his head and rocks him. After a few minutes when his trembling and breathing start calming down, he feels Donnie reach into Leo’s pack and pull away long enough to open it, unfolding a thin emergency blanket, and wrapping it around Leo’s shoulders. “You’re OK? You didn’t get any water in your lungs did you?”

Unable to do more than cough and sob, Leo shakes his head, holding the blanket tightly around him. Donnie moves down and looks at his ankle. Despite his gentle touch, pain shoots up his sluggishly bleeding ankle and makes him flinch. “I know it hurts. I’m sorry, but this needs to be cleaned as quickly as possible.” He cleans up the wound with a few wipes, pulls at a can of antiseptic and sprays it over the cut. Leo does his best to stay still despite the stinging that somehow seems worse than the cut itself.

“A-are you ok?” Leo asks in a weak trembling voice that feels like it doesn’t belong to him. The warm smile Donnie gives him somehow feels warmer than the blanket.

“Don’t worry about me, I wasn’t hurt.” Leo nods and lets out a slow trembling breath watching Donnie wrap his ankle. “That’ll work till we get back home.” Donnie says standing up, reaching towards him, “Let’s see if you can stand on it.“ Leo nods and takes his hands, using him to pull himself up. He puts a little weight on his ankle, only to have pain shoot up it and his hip and nearly causes his legs to fold underneath him. Donnie thankfully catches him by the arms. His brother ducks underneath his arm and lets him put his weight on him, his arm over the blanket still wrapped around Leo to keep him from losing any warmth. It’s only when Leo puts his arm around Donnie’s shoulder that he notices his battle shell is missing. He looks over his shoulder to see it laying on the ground still connected to the electric box which is now torn in half hanging from the wall. He wonders how hard Donnie had pulled against it to try and get to him before giving up and leaving it behind. Despite himself, he rests his head on his brother’s shoulder as the two start making their slow pace back towards home, grateful more than ever for Donnie.

He’s so grateful in fact, he doesn’t notice the weak rasp in Donnie’s breath.

Part 1

Part 2 >

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

[soupandsimple]

Little Pumpkin (with Fred Weasley)

[ Halloween day, being married to Fred and a talk about having a baby ]

*flufff

** A little Halloween themed piece, I hope you like it! Happy Halloween!

………

It was Halloween day, around 5:30 in the afternoon and you were working away in the kitchen on your traditional small Halloween day feast for you and your husband Fred.

Halloween had always been one of your favorite holidays especially the cooking/baking part of it all and well not to toot your own horn but you had mastered cooking and baking spells at a very young age thus making you great at food making (which was one of the top things Fred LOVED about you).

Not only would you prepare a feast but you’d decorate the dining area of the house as well.

“It all smells so good from up here” said Fred as he made his way down from upstairs.

“Well it’s almost time to eat. I do have to do some light decorating first though,” you said swishing out your wand and covering the ceiling of the dining room with festive hanging garlands.

On the table you made lit candles appear and a center piece of mini pumpkins along with beautiful matching placemats and sparkling utensils. “There.” you said with a satisfied smile.

“Yes very festive” Fred replied sarcastically looking up at the hangings but quickly shifted his eyes to you with a jokey smile to see your reaction.

You playfully rolled your eyes knowing he was purposefully trying to be an asshole for the fun of it and headed back to the kitchen.

You brought out the platters and trays of food one by one and set it up neatly on the table as Fred sat and watched already very eager to dig in.

“Okay,” you said as you brought out the last one, “we can eat now.”

You both served full plates along with glasses of wine.

“Mmm,” Fred said as he took his first bite “this is so good, I love holidays!” he added as he stuffed more food into his mouth.

You giggled and began eating as well. Soon enough it was time to dig into the dessert plates sitting at the table too.

“This is way too much food love! I’d say I’m stuffed but we all know I’m a sucker for your baking” Fred said filling up his plate with sweet treats now.

“Baby you don’t have to eat everything, we can always store this food! And you know I always make a little extra so you can give out in the shop the next day” you replied to him.

“Yes I know love but I still want a chance to get at least a taste of everything, I’ll tell you what though, those kids absolutely love coming in the days we have samples of your treats, they can’t get enough of them just like me” he said taking a bite of his current baked good in hand.

You smiled and shook your head as a shy attempt to accept the heap of compliments he had just given you.

“But speaking of children,” he continued “I think it’s about time we had a little pumpkin of our own.”

“What?” you replied laughing lightly as you reached for a cookie yourself until..... “Trick or Treat!” a crowd of kids outside yelled.

“Trick or Treaters already? They must have started earlier this year” you said getting up to get the door and greet the kids with candy you already had sitting in a bowl by the door.

Closely behind that group of kids came Molly and Arthur who you knew would be coming.

“Looks like we’re late” said Molly as she reached out for a hug to greet you.

“Oh no no I was just telling Fred I think they started coming out earlier this year that’s all” you replied now hugging Arthur. “Come in, come in” you said widening the front door of the house.

Your in laws greeted their son who was still eating and currently had a mouthful of pie. “Help yourself to anything Fred has left there” you jokingly told Molly and Arthur.

“Oh no dear we’re actually quite full we just ate dinner at Ginny and Harry’s as you know. But I’ll fix up a plate to take home for tomorrow of course” Molly said politely.

Halloween, as it wasn’t a big enough holiday such as Christmas to bring the whole family together, was still a holiday that Molly and Arthur wanted to spend with their kids even if that meant jumping from house to house of each child of theirs all throughout the day.

The rest of the evening you, Fred, Arthur and Molly sat on the porch with the bowl of candy greeting each group of trick or treaters that came by. At around 10 at night there seemed to be no more and so Molly and Arthur said their goodbyes and left.

After cleaning up the mess from dinner and storing the leftover food you and Fred cuddled up in a blanket on the couch to watch a movie before bed.

With your head on his chest you suddenly remembered his comment from dinner earlier, “Hey, about what you said...were you being serious about it being time for a baby?”

He chuckled, “Yes I was. What do you think love? We don’t have to yet, but i don’t know I just thought if holidays already feel this special even with just the two of us I’d imagine they’d feel even more special if we...”

“Had a baby?” you chimed in before he could finish.

“Yea” he said.

A small silence lingered in the air. He was sure it meant you weren’t ready to start a family but you interrupted the silence by saying, “Boy or girl?”

“What?” he said, a little confused.

“Would you want our first baby to be a boy or girl?”

“Oh, umm I don’t know I never really thought much about that...what about you?”

“I’d obviously love either….”

“As would I” he quickly chimed in.

“But,” you’d continued, “I think it’d be so cute to give you a girl. You’re so sweet to me and I don’t know I could only imagine how spoiled you’d have her.”

Fred laughed nervously but with a lot of love at the thought that you did want to give him a baby and maybe sooner than he expected you be okay with.

You got up from where you laid and now straddled him instead and went in to give him a quick kiss. “I think we should get started on getting that baby.”

“What, right now?” he said with an eager tone.

“The sooner the better, right?” you said to him with a smile. He smiled right back at you, quickly got up, carried you in his arms and headed (basically running) toward your bedroom with you giggling all the way there.

~ One Year Later ~

You lovingly looked at your husband across the Halloween decorated, food filled table, bottle feeding a baby girl who sure enough was dressed as a little pumpkin <3

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Green-Eyed Monster (Ethan x MC)

Summary: During a fundraising event for Edenbrook, Ethan’s jealousy gets the better of him.

Warning: NSFW!! 18+

Author’s Note: I wrote this 3 times. I hope you enjoy

2nd Author’s Note: Ethan is canonically rich. And I like reminding y’all of that fact.

Tags: @fanmantrashcan @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @writinghereandthere @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @lion-ess24 @contrerascecile @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @kaavyaethanramsey @caseyvalentineramsey

~v~

The ballroom of the Four Seasons is lit beautifully, the Dom Perignon is flowing freely, and he has some sort of fancy crab cake in his hand, but Ethan couldn’t care less about any of it.

He hates parties. That’s not a secret, everyone knows it and he’s always been vocal about it. The board thought getting all of Boston’s elite hoarded into one room was a sure fire way to get them to open their pockets. And by the looks of it, it is working. But Ethan doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about the pomp, the circumstance, the luxury of this ball, or the money that went into it.

He has eyes one one thing, and one thing only. Or, one woman only. Naomi Valentine.

There aren’t enough words in any of the languages he’s fluent in to describe the way she looks. Her normally curly hair is bone straight, falling right down her back, a few strands tucked behind her ears. He likes it like this, his view of her face unobstructed.

And her dress. Scarlet red, downright sinful, the neckline so deep and plunging, it shouldn’t be legal to wear it in public, the material clinging to her like a second skin.

He’s been quietly observing her all evening, watching as various men - and some women - fawned over her, flirted with her, flaunting their wealth, as if she cared about any of it. The only thing Naomi wants is for these people to write checks and save their place of employment.

She danced with politicians, attorneys, trust fund babies, real estate developers, the works. She’s currently swaying on the dance floor with some guy, though he can she’s not into the dance. The mystery man is talking, but he’s not holding her attention, not in the slightest.

But the mystery man makes a mistake. Ethan watches as his hand slides down her back, landing on the swell of her behind. Not wanting to cause a scene, Naomi simply twists out of his grasp.

Naomi has the situation under control. He sees that clearly, but Ethan doesn’t care. He doesn’t like that someone else is touching her, especially so intimately. Anger swells in the pit of his stomach.

He can’t stop him himself, even though he knows he should. He gets up from his seat at the bar, leaving the tiny crab cake, and marches over to where they’re at.

Wanting to make his presence known, Ethan clears his throat. The action garners Naomi’s attention and she stops dancing.

“Ethan!” She exclaims brightly. “How nice to see you.”

“Rookie,” Ethan greets back, purposely ignoring the man she’s standing next to. “Care to dance?”

“She’s a little busy, pal!” Ethan hears the man talking, his shrill voice a nuisance in Ethan’s ear, but still he pays it no mind.

Naomi is nicer than him though. She smiles at the other gentleman politely. “I’ll save a dance for you, Carl! And you can tell me all about your new yacht.”

That seems to do the trick as the man steps aside and walks off.

Ethan holds out a hand for Naomi, which she eagerly accepts. They begin swaying in time to the music. “You looked like you needed a save. That guy was too handsy.”

“I was managing him just fine, but thank you anyway,” Naomi replies. “He was just so dull. Most of these people are.”

“I’d never know it by looking at you. You have a much better poker face than I do.”

“I grew up around people like this. I know how they operate. Give them a few well-placed compliments, and they’re putty in your hands.”

Ethan doesn’t have a reply for her. He just holds her close, vaguely aware of their surroundings. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Red looks good on you.”

“It happens to be my boyfriend’s favorite color,” Naomi explains, her hand mindlessly stroking the back of Ethan’s tuxedo jacket. “I wanted something to really wow him tonight. Do you think it’s working?”

“Oh you have no idea how well your plan is working, Rookie.”

She pulls back only slightly, looking at Ethan’s face. His blue eyes have grown darker. “I think I have some idea the effect I have on him.”

Three months. It’s been three months since that fateful night at Ethan’s apartment where he kissed her. After that, the doctors decided to see if their mutual attraction towards one another was worth exploring.

And while no one else knows of the relationship, opting to keep it just between them for as long as they could, Naomi and Ethan had never been happier.

“You look so beautiful tonight, and every guy in here is ogling you.”

“Ogling?” Naomi rolls her eyes. Ethan could be so dramatic when he wanted.

“Yes, ogling. I’m not a fan of it.”

“Well, you’re going to absolutely hate what happens later,” Naomi says with a sigh.

“Why, what happens later?”

“The auction.” Naomi swallows hard. “I’m one of the doctors participating in the people auction.”

“What?”

“My friends all volunteered, and they signed me up as well. I couldn’t say no, they all think I’m single and it’d just raise too many questions.”

Ethan frowns. The thought of these rich scumbags fighting over a chance to take his girlfriend out on a date didn’t sit well with him. It was annoying enough not being the only one she danced with throughout the evening.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Naomi continues. “But they sprung it on me yesterday, and I knew you would be upset. Please don’t be mad at me.”

He sighs. “I’m not mad at you. I just don’t want anyone else getting a chance to wine and dine you.”

“You worried I’m going to leave you for one of these pretentious bores?” Naomi smiles, teasingly. “You know better than anyone that rich and old happens to be my type.”

Ethan’s hand travels down the small of her back, and he feels her shudder under his featherlight touch. “What did I tell you about calling me old, Naomi?”

“I like seeing you jealous,” Naomi continues.

“Is that right? Was that your plan all along, to make me envious of the other people here tonight?”

She shakes her head. “No, it happens to be an unintended outcome of the evening, but I’m happy nonetheless.”

Without warning, Ethan pulls Naomi flush against him. A quiet groan escapes her upon contact with him. She looks around to see if anyone heard anything. Thankfully, everyone else is too wrapped up in their own dancing.

Ethan lowers his head close to her ear, just to make sure no one else is listening. His breath is warm on her neck and he feels her shift her weight from one foot to the other, squirming. “I’m really tired of sharing you.”

“Oh, really?” Ethan can hear the challenge in her tone. “Well, there’s still a few more hours left in the evening. I think you can be a team player until then.”

“But I don’t want to be a team player.” His hand is on her hip, squeezing so fiercely through her dress, Naomi is sure she’s going to bruise. She likes it. “You, in this god forsaken dress, waltzing around here with men that would kill for even 5 minutes alone with you? How ever will I survive?”

“You’re a patient man,” Naomi says. “You’ll manage.”

Ethan spins Naomi away from him, and she twirls back into his arms. The song that’s playing reaches its crescendo, and he can tell it’ll be over soon. “I won’t. I want you all to myself.”

“Yeah?”

“I want you, all alone with me, in our room,” Ethan whispers.

Naomi surprised him earlier, getting them a suite for the evening. She knew that with all the drinking they’d be doing, driving home was going to be impossible. Plus, it’d be a fun little retreat, a romantic night for just the two of them.

“I want you out of this dress,” Ethan continues. “I want you under me, writhing uncontrollably.”

“Ethan…”

“Saying my name, just like that. Or louder, I’m not a picky man.”

Thank God he’s holding her, because her knees are buckling. Liquid heat pools in the pit of her stomach, and she rests her head on Ethan’s shoulder. She pants hard, trying to keep her composure. They’re in a crowded room, full of colleagues and Boston’s most influential residents, and she’s getting dizzy with desire.

“That sounds fun.”

“You think you can make it upstairs in 10 minutes?” Ethan asks. The song ends and he steps back, letting Naomi go. She wobbles slightly, adjusting to standing on her own two feet.

Once she’s steady, Naomi clears her throat and locks eyes with the man in front of her. “I’ll meet you there in 7.”

~v~

Naomi makes it to their suite in 6 minutes, tops. As soon as she saw him swagger out of the ballroom like the smug jackass that he is, she grabbed another champagne flute and quickly downed it, letting the bubbles coat her tongue. Once she’s done with that, she makes her own exit and heads off to meet Ethan.

Their suite is lovely, with a gorgeous view of Boston Common. On any other day, Naomi would be able to appreciate that, but not now. 

She pushes open the double doors to their bedroom, and she finds Ethan. He’s staring out the window thoughtfully, but her entrance gains his attention.

He checks his watch with a smirk. “You got here sooner than I anticipated.”

“What can I say? You were down there making some pretty hefty claims. I had to see if you were really going to put your money where your mouth is.”

“I plan on putting my mouth on a lot of different places, Rookie.” Ethan shrugs off his tuxedo jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chair and he loosens the cuffs of his shirt. Slowly, he walks over to the large king-sized bed and sits casually. Crooking a finger, he summons Naomi over, and she nearly trips over herself in a rush to be near him.

Neither one of them speaks as Ethan silently appraises his girlfriend, figuring out where to start first.

He picks her feet, and he bends down, his fingers reaching her ankle where the shoes are strapped. “How attached are you to these shoes?”

Of all the things he could’ve said, that wasn’t what she was expecting. “W-what?”

“I’m trying to figure out how much care I should exercise with them,” Ethan explains.

“They’re Aquazzura and they cost me $800. If you break the strap or the heel, I can’t be held responsible for whatever harm comes your way.”

“Even if I replace them?”

“Even then.”

“Fair enough.” Ethan carefully unbuckles her heels and she steps out of them. He trails a finger up and down the back of her calf, reveling in the softness of her skin before looking up at her. “Take off your dress.”

“You don’t want to do the honors?”

“Trust me, I do. But if I get my hands on it, I can’t promise that I won’t rip it off of you.”

Naomi’s very tempted to let him do just that, but she reaches around and unzips it herself. It falls to the floor in one fell swoop, and she steps out of it.

The dress didn’t call for a bra, so Ethan is rewarded with an uninterrupted view of her. He sucks in a deep breath at the sight. Naomi in that dress was a vision, but this is her in his favorite form.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of her thong and he slides it down. She does the rest of the work and impatiently kicks it away.

And now she’s just standing here, stark naked, subject to his piercing gaze while he’s still fully dressed. The obviousness of the power dynamic makes her shift uncomfortably.

Ethan grabs her hips and pulls her forward, so she can straddle his lap. His hands find her face and he cradles it. “You’re so beautiful.” His mouth crashes against hers, not allowing her the chance to reply to the compliment. 

Naomi grabs hold of his shoulders in order to not fly backwards due to sheer force. Ethan set an undeniable tone. Urgent, hot, demanding. His hands keep her in place, locked in the sensual embrace. Not that she’d ever willingly leave his arms, now or ever.

His tongue invades her mouth, clashing with her own and he groans. He can still taste the champagne on her, something light and bubbly. It’s intoxicating.

All too soon, Ethan breaks the kiss, leaving Naomi breathless and buzzing with energy. His hands leave her face and roam freely, exploring.

“I have a challenge for you,” he says, his lips finding the column of her neck.

He sucks on her pulse, and she finds it hard to concentrate. “Huh?”

“I want you to stay quiet. Absolutely no sounds.”

“I thought you wanted me saying your name.”

“You will,” Ethan assures her, and the promise makes her stomach clench. “But right now I want you to be quiet.”

“And if I don’t keep quiet?” Naomi challenges. Ethan cups one of her breasts in the palm of his hand and squeezes, the pad of his thumb circling her nipple.

“Then you don’t get to cum. I go back downstairs and I leave you here like this.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

With a raised eyebrow, Ethan pulls at her nipple, twisting it between his thumb and index finger. Naomi gasps. “Are you willing to challenge me on that?”

Naomi’s head is fuzzy but she swallows hard. She nods, not willing to test him on this front. “Fine. I’ll be quiet.”

Ethan smiles. “Good.” He kisses her with a renewed energy and his unoccupied hand travels down to her thigh, his nails scraping against the flesh. 

Naomi bucks in his lap. She’s shaking and her fingers are digging into his shoulders. The anticipation of what he’s going to do is killing her and she’s almost afraid to breathe.

His finger slides between her thighs teasingly, and before she gets a chance to respond, Ethan slides a single digit between her folds. It catches her by surprise and she gasps.

Ethan tsks one disapproval. “Silence, Naomi.”

Fuck you, she thinks, but she obeys regardless. Her nails dig deeper into his shoulder blades and she tries her hardest to stay quiet.

He moves at an unnaturally slow pace, not allowing Naomi to settle into a rhythm. Any other time, she’d spur him on. “Harder, deeper, more,” is what she wants to say, but he’s cursed her with silence. Instead she buries her face in the crook of his neck.

Ethan continues his torture, enjoying the view. A hot and bothered Naomi is a sight unrivaled, and he’d keep her like this forever if it was possible. He can feel the tension rolling off of her in waves, all the muscles in her thighs and abdomen tight with the effort it’s taking to keep quiet.

He adds another finger and groans. “Fuck, Rookie. You feel so good. So tight, so wet, and all for me.” 

She needs to breathe. Her lungs are tight, her chest heaving against his, but he has her walking a tightrope right now, and one false move can end it all.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Ethan continues, the rough pad of his thumb sliding against once, twice, three times. “And you’re all mine. How did I get so lucky?”

Naomi’s skin flushes furiously. He knows she’s has kink for him talking during sex. On their volition her hips rise and fall, rise and fall, trying to keep pace with him. As soon as she does, his fingers slow down, dragging her from the edge of ecstasy, before speeding up again.

He does this repeatedly, the randomness of his movements making her head spin. Every nerve in her body is on fire, and she can feel the pressure building in the pit of her stomach.

So close, so close, don’t stop, plays in her head on a continuous loop as Ethan keeps working against her. The pressure builds, a heat settling in her veins and before she can stop herself a quiet, “Yes,” slips past her lips.

The energy in the room changed instantly. Ethan stills his fingers, then removes them, and Naomi feels the panic bubbling up and she pulls back to look Ethan in the eye.

“Oh, Naomi,” Ethan frowns.

“Don’t stop.”

“You violated the deal, Rookie. You were supposed to be quiet.”

She could cry in this moment, the frustration too much to bear.

“And you were doing so good,” Ethan adds, kissing the side of her head. “You were so close, weren’t you?” He toys with her, his finger sliding up and down her slit, doing nothing more than teasing her entrance.

When she’s back to herself, and not the ridiculous mess of flesh and lust that he’s reduced her to, she’s going to fucking kill him.

A whimper is pulled from her throat when his fingers plunge into her again.

“Come on, Naomi, I’m allowing you to use your words. Tell me how close you are. Let me know how badly you want to cum. You’re right there.”

Naomi really doesn’t not want to give him the satisfaction of begging, stroking his ridiculous ego, but there’s no room for foolish pride when your boyfriend has his hand between your legs.

She moans, broken and terse. Now that she’s finally allowed to talk again, words escape her.

“Please…” is the only speech she’s finally able to muster up. Groundbreaking.

“Please, what? What do you want me to do to you?” His finger thrusts into her again without warning, slow and languid. “Do you want me to do more of this?”

“Yes! Ethan, please dontfuckingstop!” She’s not sure if the words are coherent, but she doesn’t care. She got them out, and that’s what matters.

Ethan smiles, his mission accomplished. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The teasing doesn’t register because all Naomi can focus on is the pounding of her pulse, the feeling of his hands, the smell of his cologne. She can feel it building again, the fire deep in her core. She’s so close. So cl–

He stops. Again. This time, he wraps an arm around the small of her back and flips them, Naomi’s back hitting the soft down comforter dramatically.

Now she wants to scream at him. “Ethan, I seriously cannot–”

Ethan doesn’t give her a chance to chastise him because in a flash, he’s dropped to his knees, his hands on her ankles pulling her forward on the bed with an unexpected roughness.

“Be as loud as you want now, Naomi. I think you’ve more than earned it.”

His beard scrapes against her inner thigh, and god, she’s glad she convinced him to keep it. Slowly his tongue darts out, flattening against her folds.

Her hips fly off the bed against her will, arching to meet his mouth. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, Naomi pulls, keeping him in place. “Fuck!”

The expletive works as encouragement and Ethan continues this work, his tongue alternating between expertly lapping at her folds and flicking against her clit. Naomi grips his hair tighter, earring a deep growl from Ethan. The vibration alone is enough to send her flying.

“Please, right there,” Naomi begs. If he kept it up just a little while longer, she’d finally get to taste the release he’s denied her.

His fingers nudge at her entrance again, sliding in with ease, and lips wrap around her swollen nub and he sucks hard, and that’s all it takes.

Her orgasm is something that’s long and drawn out, a culmination of teasing, anticipation and sheer relief. Her entire body goes tense as the sensation holds her in a vice grip, and then finally, she relaxes, falling back onto the bed.

“You okay?”

She can’t tell if Ethan’s genuinely asking or if he’s being cocky. It doesn’t matter either way. “I’m dead. You killed me. RIP Naomi.”

“Yeah?”

Naomi nods. “Yeah.”

“Good. Because we’re just getting started, Valentine.”

Ethan stands up and quickly unbuttons his shirt, letting it slide to the floor next to her dress. Next are his shoes and pants. Any other time, Naomi would be right there with him, on him liking a second skin, helping him get rid of the clothes, but every bone in her body feels like it’s been replaced with Jell-O. She’s content just watching this time around.

He slides his boxer-briefs off, not intentionally putting on a show, but Naomi can’t help but stare. For all the compliments he pays her, Ethan, naked and painfully hard with arousal for her and her alone, is a masterpiece.

In a flash, he’s all over her, his hands interlocking with hers above her head, pressing her into the mattress. Ethan captures her in a heated kiss the moment he enters her, swallowing whatever guttural sound she was going to make.

His thrusts start out slow and measured, but they quickly grow more frenzied as his control over the situation slips. Naomi arches, desperate to meet his pace, but she’s crushed under him, pretty much immobile.

Needing to do something, Naomi swings her thigh over him, the heel of her foot pressing into his lower back. The pressure forces him deeper, something she didn’t think was possible.

Her head snaps back pressing further into the mattress and Ethan takes advantage, his mouth finding purchase on the exposed skin, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of her neck before sinking his teeth in, biting down hard before soothing the flesh with his tongue.

That’s going to leave a mark, but that’s nothing Naomi can bring herself to care about because the mix of pain and pleasure is heady and all-consuming.

The obnoxious bite is a sign. He wants to claim her, mark his territory. She knows he has a possessive streak, but this is new.7

“Ethan, oh god.”

She can feel him smirking against her, and his thrusts pick up in tempo once more. “Say it again,” he demands, groaning into her skin.

“Ethan,” Naomi repeats, her voice going up an octave. He’s about to make her cum again, she can feel it.

He frees her hands, and while she enjoyed the intimacy of the position, she’s glad to be free. Her hands roam, one gripping the hair at the nape of his neck, the other digging into his shoulder blade. His hands grip her hips, somehow pulling her even closer. 

“How close are you?” Ethan asks, his voice gruff.

“V-very.”

The thrusts become sloppier as they both chase the inevitable release. Soon the only sounds that can be heard are their shallow breaths and their slick skin colliding against each other.

Fire floods Ethan’s veins and he reaches between them, pinching at her bundle of nerves once more. A pleasant growl settles in his chest at the way she clenches around him.

“Let go, Naomi,” Ethan demands. “Right now.”

The command is more than enough to send her over the edge again, her body tensing, toes curling. She comes undone with a silent cry, her nails piercing into the skin of his back.

Her release triggers his own. It doesn’t take much, one more deep thrust and he moans, spilling inside of her, hot and urgent.

He rolls off of her and Naomi inhales deeply, not realizing just how crushing his weight was. Neither one of them says anything for a while, just trying to catch their breath and get their heart rates back down.

“Fuck,” Naomi says, still shaky and breathless. She turns her head and looks at Ethan with a smirk. “I should get you jealous more often.”

~v~

The couple takes their time getting dressed again, not yet ready to go back downstairs. They lazed around in bed for a while before taking the world’s quickest shower and searching for their clothes that are scattered around the suite.

“How long have we been gone?” Naomi asks, sliding on her shoes.

“Too long.”

“I know my friends are wondering where the hell I am.”

“I’m sure you’ll find an excuse.”

 “Of course. I’m nothing if not quick on my feet.” Naomi turns around and sees Ethan readjusting his bow tie in the mirror. She walks over and leans into his side. “Is it bad that I just want to stay up here with you?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“What if I want to tempt you?”

Ethan groans and drops a kiss onto the side of Naomi’s head. “You little seductress. Don’t you have an auction to be a part of?”

“About that, I wasn’t thinking. If you’re really uncomfortable, I won’t do it.”

Ethan dismisses the statement with a hand wave. “Nonsense. You’re a big girl, I trust you, and if you want to do it, you should. Besides, I have a feeling you’re going to make this hospital a lot of money.”

“Okay.” She spins around and poses dramatically. “How do I look?

“Like you just got thoroughly ravished by your boyfriend. Absolutely perfect.”

Naomi makes it back down to the ballroom by herself. It’s later in the evening, so more people are out on the dance floor, and the drinks are still flowing.

Sienna is the first one to spot her. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. Were you getting any of my texts?”

“Sorry, Si. I haven’t checked my phone all night.”

“Where the heck have you been?” She asks.

Naomi shrugs, noncommittal. “Wandering around mostly. This hotel is huge, I almost got lost.”

“What happened to your hair?”

Naomi touches the crown of her head. While she was getting freshened up, the humidity of the shower made her curls come back, so she decided to throw it in a messy bun.

“I got really warm,” Naomi explains. “It was too much effort to keep it down, and it was making my neck and back hot.”

Sienna seems to believe the excuse because she simply shrugs and nods. “Okay!” She grabs Naomi’s hand and drags her along. “Come one, Dr. Banerji says it’s almost time to start the auction.”

All of the people participating in the people auction line up on stage, as Naveen acts as the emcee.

It wasn’t just people auctioning themselves off for dates. A Celtics player offered up seats in the VIP suite at their arena, restaurants offering certificates to get private dining experiences, Ethan even offered up his box seats at the Citizens Bank Opera House for one evening.

When they got to actually auctioning off dates, Bryce was naturally a hit, with two women bidding back and forth until $1500 was reached.

“And for our next participant of the evening, we have Dr. Naomi Valentine!”

Naomi steps up to the podium next to Naveen and she’s met with polite applause from the audience. She’s never been shy before, but being part of the crowd and looking down on them are two different experiences.

“Let’s start the bidding at $100.”

“$100!”

“$150!”

“$150, do I hear $200?”

“$250!”

“Someone’s eager!” Naveen teases. “How about $275?”

$400!”

“$450!”

This goes on for a while, various men throwing out numbers, vying for Naomi’s hand.

“$2000!” Naomi scans the crowd and sees it's the guy she was dancing with earlier before Ethan cut in Carl Something or Another.

“$2000! $2000 going once, going twice–”

“$15,000!”

The number is so not what Naomi was expecting to hear, she nearly loses her balance. Holy shit, someone wanted to spend that much money? On her?

Murmurs fill the crowd as the guests all turn to one another, gossiping aloud.

“$15,000 going once, going twice, sold!” Naveen scans the audience and chuckles. “Sold to Edenbrooks’ very own Dr. Ethan Ramsey! Step up and come greet your date, son!”

Naomi’s eyes nearly bug out of her head as Ethan saunters onto the stage, a lopsided grin on his face. Naomi can feel the arrogance rolling off of him in waves.

All of the Edenbrook employees in attendance immediately begin talking. Of course there was talk of Ethan and Naomi maybe being a thing, but this confirms it.

“What on earth are you doing?” She asks, looking around. Everyone’s staring at them.

“Bidding.”

“A small down payment on a house?”

“What? I can afford it.” Ethan shrugs. “Besides, you couldn’t have possibly thought I was going to let someone else get this honor.”

Naomi narrows her eyes at him and laughs. “You know, you’re really crazy when you’re acting possessive and jealous.”

“I know.” Ethan steps forward and wraps an arm around Naomi’s waist. “And you love it.”

“I kind of do.”

He kisses her, earning a few whoops and whistles – and one rogue “Get it, Nay!” from Sienna – from the crowd. When he pulls away, the apples of Naomi’s cheeks are a deep red, not used to this level of attention all at once.

“So, now that I’ve proved my point, how about we get out of here? I think I need to take you on a date that’s worth $15,000.”

[newcaptainofsquad9]

I Can’t Handle You Being Back~Chou Tzuyu x black! fem! reader {1}

Pairing: Tzuyu x reader

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 

Summary: Five years after your elimination from Sixteen, you remained in the United States, working on music, writing songs, dancing here, and there. All of the memories and incidents from the reality show still burns in your memory, you all but let them go until you get a familiar call from the man who sought out your talents in the first place, Jinyoung Park. The man had an offer you should have refused, but you longed to see your friends again.

  Genre: Angst, Idol-Verse, Romance, Slow Burn (not too slow), Hurt and Comfort, Best Friends to Lovers

Warnings: The reader is a Black woman and there will be parts when she has to deal with racist and close minded people(aka fans, netizens and others). If ya’ll read my Yoongi story, or unfinished Suho story, it’ll be a little bit like that.

  Word Count: 1, 831

Writer’s Note: More Twice fics are coming! Along with a masterlist of all my K-pop fanfictions! It’ll take a minute but it will be here and pinned on my blog so you guys can access it. Also! I want to point out that this is fictional and fictional depictions of idols and figures, just wanted to put that disclaimer. Here is another fic that will take me forever to finish like my others but regardless of that, I hope ya’ll enjoy!

I never thought I’d set foot in South Korea again, let alone JYPE’s building. The long, stress-inducing ride up the elevator didn’t ease me as I inhaled and exhaled through it. 

“You didn’t have to take this meeting,” Brittany, my assistant said. “We can just site see here in Korea, you need the break anyway.” 

I caught Brittany’s smile as she moved to put a hand on my shoulder. 

“I know being back here, it’s got to be tough,” she said. 

I nodded, yet she doesn’t know the half of it. Being a military kid had some perks: at childhood I couldn’t stop dancing, and at seventeen, people other than my parents began to notice. Those people being K-Pop scouts. They didn’t only come from JYPE, but other companies as well, although the smaller ones didn’t grant the biggest opportunity. 

JYPE was fond of my dance moves, and the man himself, Jinyoung Park promised a shimmering future. Most of the promises fell short: I didn’t get to train for very long (only a few months) before I was thrust upon the spotlight and cameras in the survival show, Sixteen. I wanted to be a star; JYP wanted a laughing stock, a black woman for views and to show his trainees how to accomplish, “ethnic hip.” I tried my best to be as creative as possible, to last with the competition, but it didn’t please JYP. Nothing I did could please him, I wasn’t the standard. I didn’t even come close. So I left, I played a game that many foreigners couldn’t win, let alone a Black woman. 

The elevator dinged as it opened, breaking me out of my mind. 

“We can turn around right now,” Brittany said. “Your call.”

I shook my head. 

“No, let’s just here what he has to say,” I said. “He did pay for our flight and all.” 

“Yeah, but that will never take back what he and that staff put you through,” she said. 

I smile as Brittany put a hand on my shoulder. Her worrying along with me solidifies this; my nerves are warranted. 

“I know, but maybe it’s just the old spirit from back then,” I said. “As if I have a chance to prove myself again.”

I don’t have to though. I told myself over and over again that I don’t. Yet, why am I here? What’s so important that couldn’t be discussed further over phone or video call?

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

My head jerked up once we stepped out of the elevator. A woman with a Bob and suit gave us both a grin.

“Mr. Park’s office is this way,” she said, leading us down the hall. 

As we pass, people murmured and stared. My name was even mentioned underneath breaths and gasps; I nod at them and only bow halfway as we pass. 

We stop at a door, the woman opened it for us and stepped aside. 

“Thank you,” I said.

Once inside JYP’s office, the dread returned. Just seeing Jinyoung Park slumped against his chair brought back more of the horrid memories. Brittany took my hand, forcing me to take a breath as Jinyoung rose. 

“Y/N! I’m so glad you could make it!” he said.

He threw his signature grin on, as he held out his hand. I took it. We shook hands before bowing respectfully.  

“You look well,” he said. “I’m glad to finally see you again.”

“Thank you Mr. Park.”

Jinyoung chuckled and gestured to the seat adjacent to his armchair. 

“Please, sit,” he suggested, he turned to Brittany. “You could take my chair if you’d like.”

I successfully didn’t shiver at how nice he was being, yet Brittany couldn’t: she twitched a bit, but hid it well with a quick grin. 

“Thank you,” she said as she plopped down. 

I leaned back, crossed my legs and got down to business. 

“Why’d you fly me out here, Mr. Park?”

Jinyoung chuckled. 

“Well, I’ve been keeping up with your progress as an artist and well, I’m extremely proud of the growth,” he said. 

Brittany and I traded looks of confusion. 

“Thank you,” I said. “You could have led with that over the phone.”

Jinyoung shifted on each leg before hopping up on the edge of his desk to sit. 

“Y/N, I might have made a mistake about you,” he admitted. “You’ve gained quite the following, and shaped into a fine dancer and vocalist.”

“Thank you,” I said. “What is it that you need from me? Did I not show that potential five years ago?”

Jinyoung frowned. 

“Well, yes, but the world wasn’t ready,” he said. “My colleagues weren’t ready, I wasn’t ready.” 

“What are you suggesting?” I said. 

Jinyoung bared his teeth in a mega-watt smile. 

“I’m suggesting a place for you as Twice’s tenth member.”

My heart quickened at his words; Brittany gasped. Did I hear him right? One of the biggest girl groups in Korea--the world bringing on a tenth member? Another member is already controversial enough in the industry(with the likes of Red Velvet getting hate for adding another a year after debut), but an American? A Black woman? The netizens tore me to shreds once, I couldn’t handle that again. 

“What’s the catch?” Brittany asked. “Out of all the contestants eliminated from Sixteen, why Y/N? This is looking rather performative Mr. Park, welcoming back your only black trainee who dealt with so much racism.”

Jinyoung’s eyes softened a bit. 

“I’m still learning from my mistakes,” he said. “You have every right to decline Y/N, but I need someone to ease Twice in towards the west.”

“Why not Somi!” I said. “There’s your westerner, half white! Very digestible to the western world.” 

Jinyoung nodded.

“True, but K-Pop is changing drastically,” he explained. “And I know Twice can hit the west hard, they can adapt to America with someone who knows it. You played against the American entertainment industry and I know you can with the girls.”

“How are you so sure?” I said. 

“You catch onto choreography quick,” he said. “You’ve done almost every Twice cover online, you’ve been Grammy nominated for songs you’ve written it’s a perfect match.” 

“What about stylists?” Brittany asked. “Have you even notified Twice about this offer?”

“I discussed it with their leader, Jihyo and she’s open to it,” he said. “I’m sure she can ease the others into it, I’ve already explained it to them that we’re working towards the west and they understand that.”

My mind spiraled at the thought of Jihyo; she’s come so far, they’ve all worked so hard. Me joining would just throw a wrench in all they’ve accomplished. 

“All of this sounds great in theory,” Brittany said. “But I change like this could make you lose popularity here in Korea, with the Korean public. You’ll lose fans, they’ll drop like flies.”

Jingyoung shrugged. 

“A risk we’ll take,” he said. “Y/N?”

Brittany gave me a sympathetic stare. 

“If I do this, will I get legal protection against hate comments,” I said. “I would be one of your artists officially, you should treat me like one.”

“Of course,” he said. “Will you take these terms, Y/N?”

Brittany shook her head as she gave me a hard look. 

I shouldn’t accept the terms. It’s just like five years ago all over again; I was tricked into becoming a prop of the industry, but somethings different. Jinyoung could go about various ways of doing this, I know I’ll have more benefits this time. 

“I will, if I have a stylist of my choosing,” I said. “And an American manager.” 

“Done,” Jinyoung said. “We can discuss this further, but I want you to meet up with the girls as soon as possible.”

My body shook at the mention of meeting up with Twice. They were my competition at one point, hell many of them I thought hated me. All except one,  Chou Tzuyu. She and some of the maknaes and I were close due to age, but Tzuyu opened up to me the most. She’s been through so much, they all have. 

“Is there any way I can practice and get to know them again,” I said. “Before we start promoting?”

“That was the plan,” Jinyoung said. “You’d be new to the public and fans, but not to Twice. Like working with an old friend.”

Yeah, an old friend who’s forgotten about you and moved on with their life. This would benefit Twice and I, but is it worth the risk to see them again. To see Tzuyu again.

 *     *      *  

“You’re sure this is the right move?” Brittany asked while our black car rolled down the street. 

Right after the meeting with JYP, he insisted I settle into the dorms and meet up with Twice before training. Brittany and I are now in the back of a car with my new manager, Miyoung

“I’m sure.”

Brittany nudged me. 

“You don’t owe him anything. Why are you doing this?” 

I leaned against my side of the car, letting the rapid speed of each car flash and rip by while my eyes slip close. The memories from five years ago swarmed me: Tzuyu and I practicing from night to morning with sweat clinging to us like newborns; the constant words we’d trade about debuting together and visiting each others countries. Tzuyu’s distraught during my elimination, begging me to stay in Korea for her. Maybe I’m doing this to help her and be there for her, if she accepts me. I can’t admit that to Brittany though, relationships that form during adolescent years don’t really last anyway. At least from what I’ve seen. 

The car came to a halt; we’ve arrived at the dorms. 

I sat up, but sunk back down in my seat as I spot all of Twice standing outside, waiting with their managers. 

“We’re ready when you are Y/N,” Miyoung said. 

She and the driver already stepped out the car with expectant looks at me. 

Brittany took my hand and rubbed my knuckle as I composed myself with a few deep breaths. The moment I stepped out, all of Twice cheered and hurried toward me. Sana was first of course, embracing me so tight that I couldn’t breathe.

“Y/N!” she squealed. 

Nayeon hugged me next, then Jihyo, Chaeyoung, Momo, and Dahyun.

“Finally my fellow ‘98 liner is back,” Dahyun teased, making me chuckle as she lightened my mood.

Joengyeon embraced me a bit too tight as well, pulling back with a tiny grin. 

“You look healthy, that’s great,” she said. 

I nodded and glanced over at Tzuyu, who kept her distance. Our eyes met, yet she didn’t smile or come over for a hug like her fellow members. She only perked her lips and waved. I wanted to scream; I felt like crying but I managed to hold the tears back again. 

Mina must have noticed as she wrapped an arm around my shoulder. 

“Are you OK?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” I lied. “It’s great to see you guys again.”