#i feel like i sound ridiculous about the towels. my family is horrible to their towels they’re all stained and shredded and stuff.

[imaginarypasta]

my family has never been good about privacy or even just giving people space but the family member who sort of recently moved into my house is exceptionally bad about it and it’s really getting on my nerves

[walkerwords]

“Lookin’ Out For Her” Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

GIF CREDIT: MTV/AMC

Request from Anonymous: Hello! I loved Walker Words, it was so well written! Could I request a Daryl x reader where the reader gets hurt and Daryl is the one to patch her up? Give her stitches and bandage her up and the like. If you wanted to keep going and have him take care of her and help her with everyday things while she heals that would be super sweet. Just craving some super fluffy care! Thank you!! Xoxo

Word Count: 4516

Warning: Swearing, Injury, Blood

Song I Wrote To: “Is This Love" by Corinne Bailey Rae

Note: And we are BACK. Thank you for requesting this!

---------

The Virginian sun was beating down on everyone’s necks as you worked in the lumber yard just outside of Alexandria.

Abraham had recruited you to help the Alexandrians build up their community. You didn't think it was that important but you said "yes" nonetheless. You had been travelling with your group for a while now. Meeting them on the road, Carl, Rick’s son, had saved you from a Walker that had pinned you to the ground. According to the young man, they had just lost their farm to a horde and were looking for a new place to stay. 

It was then that you noticed his pregnant mother and wanted to help. 

You hadn’t wanted to be near other people since the beginning of the end, but you had a good feeling about the Grimes family and their people. You were with them when Rick discovered the prison and you hadn’t looked back.

While you were close with Rick, Carl, Michonne, Rosita, and others, Daryl was someone that you had connected with unexpectedly. Daryl Dixon was an enigma, but one you loved to try and figure out. He was someone who you  never would have bonded with if it hadn’t been for the end of the world, but everyday you were grateful for him and the way he always seemed to be looking out for you. 

There was something unspoken between the two of you and any time that you were apart, you were constantly looking over you shoulder in hopes of spotting the archer. Just as you were now as you worked  near Abraham, cutting into the timber that would help reinforce the walls of your new home. 

“Who would’ve thought?” Ford said as he called out to you. 

“What’s that, Red?” you called back, looking at him through the bright rays of sun that shone down on you. 

“You,” Abraham said. “Who would’ve thought you’d be into all of this?”

“Construction?” you asked, raising your brows. 

“No,” he said with a shit-eating grin, “helping.” Your mouth opened in shock at his jab, not finding it particularly funny. 

“Hilarious,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Abraham just began laughing, enjoying himself. You began to ignore him as you tried to hide your own smile when the sound of growls reached your ears. “Fantastic,” you said with a sigh as you leaned over to pick up your weapon, an extra-sharp machete that Rick had given you after the events of Terminus. 

The Walkers came from the South in a group, all meandering towards the site. “Stay sharp!” Ford yelled as he grabbed a knife in one hand and a hammer in the other. While you had your guns, nobody wanted to use ammo if they didn’t have to. The Alexandrians were worried, shuffling back as the Walkers approached, but you and Abraham moved to the front.

You began taking them down quickly with a few slashes of your blade. Two larger Walkers backed you up until your back hit a pile of stacked lumber. You took out the first, but the second moved too fast, falling into you. You fell back, hitting your head on the edge of the wood as you went down. The Walker landed on your arm, pressing it into the metal stake keeping the wood tied together. Groaning out in pain, you shoved your blade into the side of the Walker’s head and shoved it off with disgust. 

“(Y/N)!” Abraham yelled as he ran towards you. He took out the last Walker with a swing of his hammer before arriving at your side. “Ya alright, girl?”

“Fine,” you grunted, taking the hand Abraham stretched out for you to grab. Abraham pulled you to your feet and you ignored the pounding behind your eyes as you brushed sawdust off your jeans.

“Are you sure that you are okay?” he asked, slipping into his sergeant mode. 

“Abe, I am alright,” you said, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder. “Few bumps and bruises ain’t gonna keep me down.”

“Well, just head back alright? We’re gonna be headin’ inside any minute now,” he ordered. 

“I can help clean up,” you said, but he was shaking his head. 

“(Y/N), go,” he said and with a sigh, you saluted the man, picked up your machete, and turned back towards Alexandria.

-------

Arriving back home, you tried to keep steady on your feet, but it was becoming more difficult with each step. 

Nodding to Rick and Glenn who were speaking to Spencer, you continued on towards the house that you were sharing with the Grimes, Michonne, and Daryl. In the distance, you could see Judith being carried around by an amused Tara who swung her around on her hip, trying to make the little girl laugh. 

The ache in your head was the only thing distracting you from the searing pain in your arm. You could also feel thick blood starting to saturate the sleeve of your shirt, but you did your best to ignore it. If you could manage to get home and up to the bathroom unseen, everything would work out. The last thing you needed was for one of your friends to clock your injuries. 

Climbing up the steps to the house, you relaxed as it sounded empty. Dropping the façade, you let the pain show on your face for just a second, but a second was all it took for him to notice. 

“What’s wrong with ya?” Daryl said from a quiet spot on the porch. Still not used to how silent the man could be, you jumped out of your skin at his deep voice. 

“Fucking hell, Daryl!” you exclaimed, grabbing at your chest with your bad arm which only made you wince further. “Way to scare the hell out of me.” Daryl, who had been cleaning his bow, got to his feet and approached you, his brows drawn together. 

“Are ya gonna answer my question?” he asked, looking you over. Suddenly feeling somewhat shy, you took a step back from him, turning so your bad arm was further out of sight. 

“Walkers came up on us at the lumber spot,” you explained. “Everyone’s fine, but I got knocked down. It’s nothing.” 

“Is it also nothin’ that you can’t keep to stand still without staggerin’?” Daryl noticed, gesturing down at your feet. Glancing down, you saw a dizzying pattern of dirty bootprints as if you had horribly failed at a field sobriety test after a night out. 

“I…” you tried as the pain increased. “I may have hit my head on the way down.” 

“Mmhmm. Come on,” Daryl said as he took your arm to keep you steady and led you into the house.

“I can walk, Daryl,” you complained. 

“Yeah, into a wall maybe,” he said with a scoff. You frowned, but didn’t pull away as he took you to the room that he had claimed on the first level. 

Daryl’s room was quite neat, but considering none of you had many belongings, it shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise. Clothes were strewn across a single chair in the corner while his leather jacket was thrown on the unmade bed. Bolts for his bow, old and new, were on a table in front of the window, and tools for the bike Aaron had given him were tossed on top of the dresser.

It was very…Daryl.

“Sit,” he ordered, helping you to the edge of the mattress. 

“Yes, Sir,” you said with a roll of your eyes. Daryl mirrored the motion before leaving the room quickly. You sat there awkwardly as Daryl went to fetch the medical kit. Being in his room alone, you felt as if you were in high school and in a boy’s room for the first time.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you chastised yourself. This was Daryl, your friend, your partner when it came to runs or watch. However this was also Daryl, the man that had bewitched you body and soul. “Easy there, Darcy,” you said, shaking your head, trying to dislodge your Austen fantasy. 

“What?” Daryl asked as he returned with the supplies. 

“Nothing,” you said quickly, averting your eyes. Daryl just hummed a response before sitting next to you and then gesturing for you to remove the flannel shirt you wore over your tank top. Carefully, you pulled down the sleeve and then slipped the shirt off your shoulder, the blood sticking to the fabric. The fresh wound snagged on the threads, causing you to hiss out in pain, but eventually you got it off. “Damn,” you swore, finally getting a look at the cut from the stake. 

“Not exactly shallow,” Daryl said, examining the wound. “It’s gonna leave a scar.”

“What else is new?” you said as a ringing entered your ears. You rubbed at one of them, trying to dislodge the annoying sound. 

“That’s what I thought,” Daryl said. 

“What?” you asked as Daryl began wiping away the extra blood with a towel. 

“Ears ringin’, right?” 

“Maybe…” you said, very aware of how his fingers moved across your blood-speckled skin. 

“Probably a concussion. The dizziness, ringin’, headache that I know ya got… irritability,” he said with a look and you swatted at him. “All shit ya get from a concussion.” You sighed deeply, not liking how the day was going. The last thing you needed was to be benched with your family in a new environment. You weren’t the best fighter, but you were damn good at surviving and you had to stay sharp. 

Daryl finished removing the blood before grabbing the needle and thread. Looking away, you stared at your boots as he tugged your skin back together. “Needles make ya sick?” he said with amusement in his voice. 

“No, but watching you stitch my flesh back together ain’t a walk in the park,” you said and then Daryl had an even softer touch.

“Almost done,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb above the wound, trying to soothe you and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t working. “If you don’t tell people when you’re hurt, how are we supposed to help ya?” he asked. 

“It’s not your job,” you said, not really thinking it through. 

“Like hell it’s not,” Daryl shot back, but his tone remained calm. “We look out for each other, (Y/N). That’s what we do.” 

“I know,” you said, letting out another deep breath. “M’sorry.” Daryl tied off the last stitch and cut it before reaching for the bandage. You looked back just as he smoothed the sterile gauze over your arm, pressing it down firmly. “Thank you,” you whispered.

Daryl didn’t respond. Instead, he ran his hand down your arm until it got to your hand. Slipping his fingers into yours, he intertwined your hands together, rubbing his calloused fingers against your own. 

You sat like that for a while, just listening to each other breathe, feeling the pressure of his hands in yours. This happened occasionally and you weren’t exactly sure what it meant. Daryl would sit next to you, press his leg into yours or even reach down and take your hand.

Back at the prison, he would just enter your cell and sit next to you. Even on the road, sometimes, he’d take your hand as you walked, letting it swing between the two of you. Daryl never  spoke, but he always made sure to add some pressure, as if letting you know that he was there. A part of you never wanted to look into it further. You all had seen some horrible things and you knew everyone needed to feel grounded. 

Daryl gravitated towards you to feel...something, you just weren’t sure what that was yet. 

“You know,” you whispered, leaning into him a bit, “there is a doctor here.” Daryl’s grip tightened then, almost as if he was afraid you were about to run. Looking up at you, his eyes were blue fire as he stared into your own. 

“And you ain’t goin’ anywhere near that son of a bitch,” Daryl said. “He ain’t layin’ a single hand on ya, not after what I know what he does to that wife of his.” 

“Daryl,” you said, trying to keep him calm, “Pete’s not gonna hurt me.” 

“I know he’s not,” he said. “Because I’d kill him if he did, I don’t care who the hell he is.”

“Is that you lookin’ out for me?” you asked, reaching up with your other hand to brush a strand of hair from his eye. 

“Just don’t go to him, (Y/N),” Daryl said. “Alright?” If he was one to say “please”, you figured he was about to.

“I could have a concussion, remember?” you pointed out, still feeling the blooming migraine. 

“You’re gonna be alright,” he said. “Herschel told me how to handle that. You’re gonna stay here with me tonight. I gotta keep wakin’ ya up so you don’t end up in a damn coma.” 

“Is that the only reason?” you asked, testing the waters. Daryl looked at you with a raised brow. 

“It’s the one I’m giving ya for now,” Daryl said. 

“Just for now?” you asked. 

“Yeah,” he said with a quick jut of his chin. You nodded and then leaned against him, feeling the pain echoing through your body. Daryl looped his other arm around your shoulder as you began to drift off. “I got ya, (Y/N),” he whispered as fatigue finally took over and you slumped into the man at your side.

-------

Daryl kept his word and made sure that he woke you up throughout the night. 

Any time his hand shook your shoulder, pulling you from your dreamless sleep, you awoke to his gentle face aglow by the camping lantern. He’d ask your pain level and make you drink water.

Afterwards, Daryl would get you to lay back down, smooth his hand over the side of your head, and you would fall right back to sleep. When he woke you up for the third time, you noticed a makeshift ashtray sitting on the window sill of the open window, the smoke filtering out into the night. Having known Daryl for a while, you knew what it looked like when he was taking watch. 

“Get some sleep,” you whispered as you rolled over to face him as he walked back towards his perch. 

“I’m fine,” he said. “I got hours yesterday.”

“Liar,” you mumbled, already fading. The last thing you saw before you fell asleep again was Daryl leaning back against the window frame, his eyes on you as he flicked his cigarette in his fingers. 

In the morning, your head felt a bit better, but your arm was killing you. Hissing in pain, you opened your eyes and rolled onto your back. Shadows danced on the ceiling from the sunrise and the breeze that floated through Alexandria. 

“Mornin’,” Daryl said from his spot by the window.

“Were you there all night?” you asked, sitting up. 

“Nah, took care of Judith a couple of times,” he said with a shrug. 

“Daryl…” you sighed, shaking your head. 

“It’s nothin’,” he said, waving you off. Getting up, he walked over to where you were and sat down next to you. From his pocket he pulled a pen light of all things. 

“Where did you find that?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Carl grabbed it from asshole’s office,” Daryl explained as he clicked it on and raised it before your eyes. 

“Do you even know what you’re doin’?” you asked. 

“Just follow the light,” he said with a huff and so you did. Daryl checked out your pupils to make sure neither was blown and then stowed the light away. “Arm,” he ordered, grabbing the medical kit from the side table. Moving your arm felt like moving a ton of bricks. Then pain was bad from the wound, but your muscles felt as if needles had been going in them for hours. “Swelling went down a bit,” Daryl said as he gently prodded the skin. “Maybe we can find some meds for the inflammation. I’ll see what we got here.”

“Who would’ve thought?” you said as he changed the bandage on your arm. 

“What?”

“Doctor Dixon,” you mused with a grin. Daryl rolled his eyes, scoffing. 

“Shut up,” he said, but you could tell he found it funny. 

“Guess I’m banned from helping with the lumber for a bit,” you said with a sigh. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Ford’s orders.” 

“Well, I ain’t about to sit here all day and do nothin’,” you said as he finished his task. Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you stood up, testing your balance. When you were satisfied enough with the results, you went in search of your own room, desperate for a change of clothes. 

“Don’t fall!” Daryl called as you exited the room. You sent him a rude gesture over your shoulder, making him laugh. After only tripping twice, you managed to get to your room, grab some new clothes, and hit the shower. It was a hassle keeping your arm dry under the constant spray of water, but you managed well-enough. 

Once you were dressed and feeling somewhat human again, you headed back down stairs to only be met with Daryl. “You need to take it easy,” he said. 

“I’m not going to go hunting Walkers, Daryl,” you said, carefully pulling on your boots. “Maybe Olivia or Aaron could use some help. I know Gabriel has been wanting to get the church back together.”

“Great, let’s go,” he said, leaning against the front door. 

“You taggin’ along?” you asked, pulling yourself up. 

“I gotta make sure ya don’t collapse and take someone down with ya,” he said. With a quick laugh, you placed your knife in its sheath and approached him. Grabbing him by the shoulders, you moved him out of the way. 

“Mmhmm,” you said with a smirk, “well, come on then, Doc,” you teased. 

“Oh my god…” he said, but followed you nonetheless. 

-----

For most of the day, Daryl was by your side. 

No matter what you were doing, he was there. Once you had convinced Gabriel to let you help him, he had you moving some things from Scott’s garage and into the church. Daryl, however, wasn’t on board with all the physical activity you were doing. So, instead of letting you carry the heavy boxes, he was there taking the weight himself. 

Daryl helped you carry anything over a few pounds and if you were being honest with yourself, you were rather enjoying him being so protective. He continued to help you the entire time you were doing errands for the priest and even when Deanna asked you to help move some files from the basement for Maggie to review, Daryl was there. 

He never once complained, but he was talking more than usual. As you completed the tasks for the day, Daryl was asking you questions about your life before the Apocalypse. He wanted to know where you grew up, if you had any siblings, and even what your parents were like. You knew a lot about his upbringing, but you never really spoke about your own. Still, with every question, you answered him honestly and it actually felt nice to talk about your family. 

When he asked about what those first few months after the firebombs dropped on the cities were like, you began to grow quieter. As with everyone you had met in the new world, you had lost people from the first day the Dead began to rise and it hadn’t stopped. You told Daryl about the first people you had met on the road, the ones who had been slaughtered by a group of the Dead as you were escaping the city. It was then that you had decided to take on the world alone if possible. 

That is until the fateful day in which you met Carl Grimes. 

When Daryl asked about any fears you had, you began to laugh. “What’s so damn funny?” he asked as you sat next to him in Aaron’s garage as he worked on the bike. He didn’t want to let you out of his sight and you knew he needed to get some grease on his hands before the day was over. 

“I guess I just never thought we would ever have to talk about our fears again, ya know? Aren’t we all scared of the same thing these days? The Dead, assholes with guns...each other.” 

“Each other?” Daryl echoed. “What do ya mean by that?”

“How well do we really know each other? Eugene lied to us for weeks, Tara was with the Governor, and even the people here are unknowns. I don’t know, Daryl, I guess if I had to talk about any fears it’d be that I’m scared that I don’t know how to trust anyone anymore.”

“That ain’t a bad thing,” Daryl said. “Best to always be on alert, that way ya don’t end up dead or worse.”

“It’s exhausting,” you admitted, rubbing at your temples. 

“Pain?” Daryl asked as soon as he noticed. 

“I’m fine,” you said. 

“(Y/N),” he said, wiping the grease from his hands and crouching down in front of you, gently lifting your chin to look in your eyes. “Tell me.”

“About a seven,” you admitted. 

“It was lower a few hours ago,” he said with a frown. 

“Guess I’ve been working harder than I thought,” you said, resting your head in his hand. Daryl reached back and grabbed his canteen. 

“Drink,” he ordered and you did, sipping the water slowly. Reaching out, he smoothed a hand over your hair gently. “Better?” he asked. 

“Bit,” you admitted. Daryl withdrew his hand then and left you to finish the water, trying to get your hydration back to where it should be. Leaning back against the workbench, you watched as he worked, his shoulders tense as he pulled at gears or unscrewed bolts.

Daryl was always in his element when he worked on mechanics. You remembered the first time you saw him working on one of the cars at the prison. He had seemed so absorbed in everything he was doing, happy to be providing for his new family. 

You knew enough about cars to get by, but you could always learn more and so you observed him whenever you could. Watching Daryl rebuild cars or work on Merle’s bike was one of the main reasons you began to grow closer to each other. 

He looked up from his work then, feeling your eyes on him and he gave you a crooked grin, one that was rare, but one you loved so much.

-----

As day turned to night, Daryl helped you get home. 

The dizziness was back in waves and so he had you by the arm as you walked through the streets of Alexandria. He had tried to carry you, but after refusing over and over, he had relented to just holding you up, keeping a firm grip on you. 

As soon as you entered the house, Michonne and Rick were in the kitchen, making food for the house. “Long day?” Rick asked as you moved past him. 

“Too long,” you said, slumped against Daryl.

“Come on,” Daryl said, “you’re about to crash and burn.” You waved at Rick and Michonne as Daryl all but dragged you back to his room. As soon as you saw the bed, you nearly wept in relief. Daryl had been right, you should have stayed home. “Hungry?” he asked. 

“No,” you said as you sat down. Daryl kneeled down and began to unlace your boots as you held your bruised arm to your chest, trying to relieve some of the pain. “I should get hurt more often if this is the kind of treatment Daryl Dixon gives me,” you said with a lazy smile. Daryl looked at you with an exhausted look. 

“Let’s not, alright?” he said as he finished with your boots. 

“Yes, Sir,” you said as you flopped back onto the bed. Daryl got up and joined you, sitting next to you. With your good arm, you reached up and tugged him down beside you, his body lying alongside yours. Turning your head to look at him, he was already looking at you through messy strands of hair. 

Slowly, you lifted up your hand and offered it to him. Daryl took it in his own and laced your fingers together, his eyes never leaving yours. “Your hands are warm,” you said in the low light of the room, your voice barely above a whisper as if it would crack the tension. 

“Yours are cold,” he said back, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. “I should check your arm,” he said, but you shook your head. 

“It can wait,” you whispered, looking into those blue eyes of his as he pinned you to the planet with his gaze. “Thank you, for lookin’ out for me today,” you said, tightening your hold on his hand. 

“Always,” he said. “I’m always gonna be there for ya.” You gave him a small smile then as a shiver took over your body. “Cold?” he asked, his brow furrowing. 

“Bit,” you said with a shrug. Daryl reached behind him and grabbed one of the blankets and draped it over you, careful not to let go of your hand the entire time. His other arm was pressed to your side as he tried to adjust the blanket, but it lingered, adding pressure to your body. “Stay,” you whispered to him. 

“This is my room,” he said, looking down at you. 

“Smartass,” you said, trying not to break his gaze. 

“I ain’t going anywhere,” he said as he sat up a bit higher and then pressed a kiss to your forehead. It was gentle, but warm, his lips leaving a spot of heat on your skin. When he pulled back, you locked eyes with him again before slipping your hand out of his and reaching up to drag your fingers through his hair. Getting to his neck, you pulled him down to you and he met you there, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. His lips were heavy on yours and he tasted exactly as you had imagined. 

When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. “Your head needs to heal,” he whispered, not wanting to move any further away from you. 

“My mind has never been more clear,” you said, grabbing his face again. “Kiss me, Doc,” you said and with a chuckle, he did.

Daryl lay with you, kissing you, holding you, and never once leaving your side as you finally succumbed to sleep, your body desperately needing to heal. Looking down at you in the low light of the lantern, he promised that would never let you go, not now, not ever. 

He had asked you about your fears, but you hadn’t asked him about his. In truth, he was only scared of one thing and that was losing you.

TAGS: @thanossexual​ @felicisimor​ @yes-sir-hotchner​ @lucillethings​ @stark-dreams​ @huffledor-able541​

[its-kall-the-clown]

14 Fluff for Red Son realizing he's nursing a crush on MK

As some context this is post redemption for the demon bull family. So Mei, MK, and Red hang out a lot together now. Red Son is also an idiot. XD

Also this isn’t my most polished work so sorry if it feels rushed.

prompt list

Stop that!! (Don't stop)

Rating: PG-13 for implied sexual interactions

"I think I'm sick"

Red Son admits to the ceiling of Mei's room. They were hanging out like they normally did on days MK was training with monkey king. She was playing some sort of retro video game and he was watching till he got bored and lay on her bed thinking.

"You got a tummy ache?" Mei teased, pausing her game and he huffs rolling his eyes, and sits up.

"Don't be ridiculous" he huffs out and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Okayyyy so what're the symptoms." Mei crawls from her spot on the floor and joins him in bed, sitting crisscrossed with her hand in her lap, and leaning forward eagerly.

"It's hard to explain… sometimes when MK is gone my chest hurts " he places a hand over his heart that was beating normally at the moment.

"And sometimes, when he's around, my hands get sweaty and it feels like I'm gonna throw up and…." He watches a wide unlearning Cheshire grin grow across his friend's face. He continues on, albeit, a bit more hesitantly.

"And….sometimes I can't talk right, and sometimes when he IS around my chest hurts also?" Mei was grinning so wide she was more teeth than she was girl.

"Why are you smiling…."

"OMFG!!?? You have a crush on Mk?!!!" She squeaks excitedly and rolls around in her back as she descends into what Red can only describe as absolute madness.

"What are you talking about??!" He sputters, Mei giggles a bit longer before finally pulling together and greeting him with a wide grin.

"Dude. Your like SO gay for him. 'My HeARt hUrTs WhEn hE’s not arOuNdddd~ " she mocks him in a fake tone and he growls hitting her with a pillow..

"Stop that!" He growls.

"SToP ThAt~" she mocks back and they devolve into a pillow fight on her bed. He girns when he hits her smug face squarely with a dragon stuffie.

Soon they lay panting on her bed and the dragon girl rolls onto her stomach poking him in the face.

"So. Crushing in MK huh?"

He grows beat red again and pulls a pillow into his face and groans.

"You should tell him."

Red son sits up with a smile.

"I should!"

"Yes!!"

"So I can tell him to stop making me sick!"

"Say what now?"

He turns to Mei with a feral smile. This 'crush' or whatever she called it could be fixed. If MK was the one giving it to him. He just needed MK to stop doing...whatever he was doing to make him feel like this.

"Hold on I think you are conf-"

"Thanks Mei!" He gets up and is off to confront the noodle boy as he hears Mei shout at him from her room.

"You're a fucking idiot!!!"

-----------

He storms forward like a typhoon. Red son is a force of nature that can not be stopped, nothing could yield him in his goal or hinder him in his path. Wild horses pulling chariots could not stop him, celestials in heaven would not dare stand in his way, and even his parents (by far the scariest force of all) could not persuade him to rethink what he was doing.

He pushes past the doors to Pigsy's noodles, shoves past patrons and ignores the warning shouts from the pigman.

he had one goal on mind

"Nyyyooodle boy!!!!!!" He bellows grabbing the attention to his problem. Those perfect expression color eyes meet him and the disease in his chest grows. He's in his training clothes, clearly on his way up to his apartment over the shop so he can shower.

Why did the idea of MK showering make his heartbeat erratically? Soft shoulders and cascading water off them…

She shakes his head back and forth now back on track.

"Stop. That." He growls out grinding his teeth together as steam leaves his ears. MK tilts his head slightly. The disease grows more in his chest and he hates it.

"Stop that!!!!" He points directly at MK feeling his hair sputter and spark as his temperature rises. He thinks his face is growing red.

"I'm….not doing anything?" MK gives him a sheepish smile, the kind that quirks up on one side and absolutely obliterates Red Son on the spot.

Like a crunchy fall leaf under the heel of a boot he's crushed.

Whatever motivation he had before it evaporates quicker than a drop of water in the Sahara desert.

"Y-your haven't heard the last of me!!" He makes a quick retreat, stumbling over his own feet and taking out one of Pigsy's tables in the process.

He exits the shop faster than he entered. He needed to regroup and strategize.

-----------

"SoooOOOOOo How'd it go?" Mei asked her eyes not leaving the screen, she's playing a different video game now, and she didn't even spare him a glance when he came back as if she predicted he would fail.

"Horrible!!! All it did was make this sickness worse." He throws his arms up and paces back and forth biting his lip. Mei doesn't pause her game this time, only continuing to mash buttons as he grumbles under his breath.

She lets out A long-suffering sigh and finally pauses her game.

"Dude. I know you're behind on the lingo and stuff but a 'crush' isn't a sickness. It means you like MK. As in you want to kiss him and stuff." she explains with a shrug unpausing her game and the sound of power-ups and pixelated men punching each other continues.

Red Son halts in his tracks

He pictures kissing MK. pressing his lips to the boy's soft adorable lips. He can practically feel the warmth it would produce. He pictures MK smiling into the kiss as they awkwardly bump noses. He pictures holding MK’s hand, squeezing it gently as they walk hand and hand. He imagines the feeling of MK’s hair between his fingers as he runs his hands through it.

He sucks in a gasp, his heart beating out of time.

Of fuck.

“I’m so screwed…..”

He feels Mei patting his shoulder, she paused her game again when he was fantasizing

“Yeah, you are. But at least now you can DO something about it.” she nudges his side and he blushes a bright red and he can hear her chuckling at him

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

“Can we talk?”

MK blinks back at him looking back and forth for a moment as if he was confused by his precence. Which to be fair he DID just enter through MK’s window while he was showering and was now waiting for him on his bed.

“Uhhhhh sure?” they rub the last remaining moisture from his hair with a towel before tossing it to the floor to be added to piles of laundry they had yet to do. Red Son didn't even curl his lip up at the slob-like behavior because HOLY SHIT MK IS SHIRTLESS!!!

Of course, MK didn't even seem to care that he was only wearing grey sweatpants in his presence. Red Son guilty looked MK’s chest up and down while they searched for a sleep shirt. Working out with Monkey King has been paying off because MK was sporting some muscle. He also had a few scars from battles that only added to how attractive he was, and of course, there were the two faint top surgery scars under his pecks.

“Is this about your weird episode in the shop today?” they asked pulling him from his guilt ogling and MK pulled a shirt over his body. Damn what a shame.

“Mei says I have something called a ‘crush’ and I should ‘tell them how I feel’ in order to make the pain in my chest go away,” he explained using quotation marks with his fingers to punctuate himself. MK’s eyes widen slightly and then it's schooled quickly. They join Red Son on the bed.

“O-oh? Have you told them?” MK squirms in place and keeps his gaze cast down. He looks uncomfortable, no. he looks upset? Why would MK be upset? Was it because he broke into his room again without permission?

No not that. Although he will have to apologize later

“I’m working on that part,” he explains scooting closer to MK and he grabs one of their hands gently. This felt stupid, and he thinks his sickness will kill him with how quickly his heart is beating. He was terrified and all his symptoms were amplified by ten.

He looks into MK’s espresso-colored eyes looking for something. He loved those eyes. They showed so much in them and he SWORE they could change the whole lighting of a room.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water with his false starts. Eventually, he clears his throat and releases his confession.

“Umm well...MK. I h-have a crush on you.”

he shuts his eyes and waits for the rejection, waits to hear MK laugh with their head back and shove him away.

None of that comes.

He peaks an eye open to find MK’s face a bright scarlet red. Was that a good sign? Or was MK so angry at him that he was just building up anger inside of him like a volcano ready to blow.

“ I w-will leave now.” he pulls away ready to retreat with at least his dignity still in tack. He's pulled back violently and soft lips are smashed to his. He lets out a surprised whimper and absolutely melts into the feeling. His brain is electrified and static all at once.

He kisses back hungrily grabbing MK by the waist and pulls him closer. When they are running out of air only does MK pull away with a little breathless gasp.

“Stay the night?” They requested, placing a soft kiss to the juncture of his neck and he can’t find a single cell in his body that would possibly say no. He nods numbly and MK kisses him again a smile on his lips that he could taste.

----------

“MK GET UP! YOU ARE LATE AGAIN!!”

Pigsy burst down the door jolting the demon awake from his peaceful slumber, his arms that were previously wrapped around MK pull away quickly in the process. He thinks he could stick to the ceiling with his claws like a cat in a cartoon if he jolted just a little higher.

The covers are yanked off them both before Red Son even has time to protest. Thank gods they both put underwear back on when they finished satisfying each other. Red Son is completely and thoroughly exposed to MK’s boss, bitemarks, and hickes across his chest snitching on him.

Red Son and Pigsy meet eyes and he feels a sweat break out across his neck. Pigsy sighs and pinches his snout. He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out through his nose.

“I don't know what happened here... And I don't WANT to know. Tell MK he’s got ten minutes to get downstairs.” Pigsy turns on his heel and leaves slamming the door behind him. Red Son looks over to his now-boyfriend who’s mouth hangs open with drool dripping down his face.

MK slept through all of it.

He can’t help but chuckle and kiss their forehead gently.

[hoe-kkotsu]

No Promises Inumaki x Reader

Premise: Reader goes out of their way to get Inumaki to speak by annoying him to the ends of the earth

Genre: Smut, Kinda fluffy end

Word Count: 6k oops

Warnings: none

a/n: smut is about halfway through if you wanna skip, also feel free to notify me if you notice any issues !!

“Get fucked” was the first thing you ever heard him say. At least the first normal thing you heard him say. The silence that fell through the room as everyone stared in disbelief was terrifying. Inumaki’s scowl perfectly juxtaposed your own expression, sweet with victory.

“Does that count as a curse?”

-

Since your family was involved with the school you had grown up near it and were well acquainted with both students and staff. A blonde boy caught your eye during his second year, barely any older than you but you were too scared to introduce yourself anyway. It was his third year when you were finally forced into interacting with him and you quickly became confused by the way he spoke. “Cat got your tongue?” you asked. 

“tuna.”

“Oh my bad, tuna got your tongue then?” he didn’t respond. You knew him to be a nice guy from your interactions with his schoolmates but they failed to mention his speaking quirk. 

You learned from your dear friend Maki that his name was Inumaki and that was just the way he spoke, “Don’t let it bother you,” she advised, “you’ll get used to it, he’s a nice kid.” You tried, but the more you were faced with him in the next months the more it bothered you.

-

While you were hanging around Maki’s room late one night he somehow came up in the conversation “He has his reasons why does it still bother you?” Maki asked from her bed while you sat facing her on her floor

“Everyone says he used to speak! I just wanna hear him say something normal” you whined. 

“What do you like him or something?” maki sarcastically snickered. It wasn’t the first time she suggested it. You stood up.

“Absolutely not! It just feels like some sort of game I have to beat,” you knew how awkward you sounded but still you defended yourself.

“I know, I know calm down” she laughed.

You decide it’s best to change the subject, “Whatever. It’s getting cold can you turn the heat on?” Even in the cold season, you’d still wear a tank top and shorts to sleep, you weren’t going to change that just because you were sleeping at Maki’s for the night.

“Nah the AC is broken, go borrow some pajamas from Megumi or something” Your friendship with Maki led you to being well acquainted with Fushiguro so even though you preferred not to bother him you felt comfortable enough asking him this favor. 

You left Maki’s room and tip-toed down the corridor so as not to wake anyone, but as fate would have it you encountered Sir Riceball himself, donning nothing but grey sweatpants and towel-drying his hair. This was the first time you’d ever seen him without that ridiculous uniform collar covering half his face, and most certainly the first time you’d seen this much skin from him. The blood ran straight to your face and in your surprise you tripped and fell to the floor, quickly alerting him to your presence. 

He helped you up without a second thought.

“Thanks” was all you could manage to say while avoiding his eyes.

“Shake shake” he responded. You could feel his eyes scan you and it felt like you were ten times more exposed than you were already. He let go of your hand and motioned to a clock with an inquisitive look on his face.

You tried to guess what he was asking, “What time is it?” he shook his head no and pointed to you then to the window revealing the night sky. “Why am I here so late?” you continued your attempt to decipher what he was trying to say and luckily he nodded to signal you were correct. “I was helping Maki with something and it got pretty late so I figured I’d crash on her floor tonight,” he tilted his head, “Oh! I got cold and her heats busted so I was gonna go ask Fushiguro to lend me some pajamas!” he cracked a small smile, of course you were cold dressed like that, it’s freezing out. But for some reason, your answer bothered him. He didn’t want Megumi to see you like that- the way the shorts hugged your hips and the cold breeze caused your nipples to peek through the tank top- yeah that wasn’t gonna happen.

He muttered something about bonito flakes and grabbed your hand to pull you towards his room. His actions surprised you but you had no reason not to trust him so you complied. In his room he fished out some fuzzy pants and a big t-shirt and tossed them to you, “Wait can I borrow these?” you asked and he rolled his eyes. Why would he have thrown them to you if not for you to borrow? 

“Shake shake,” he nodded and you smiled at him causing him to blush ever so slightly. He turned his head before you could notice. What he did not expect you to do was to turn around and start changing in front of him. Just the sight of your bare back caused him to strain in his sweatpants. The shirt was big enough that it covered your ass when you pulled your shorts off, he wasn’t sure if he should thank god or curse him for blocking the view. 

Once you were dressed you turned around to thank him again. You hugged his side without thinking and offered your thanks. He looked surprised but only momentarily. He looked like he was about to say something before offering just another “Shake shake” and you frowned.

“Just one word? Cant, you just say one word to me?” your tone bordered on begging but he shook his head and you sighed. “Whatever man, goodnight I guess.” left his room to head back to Maki’s.

He would be upset at the way you left if he wasn’t preoccupied with the thought of you in such little clothes, the way your midriff peaked out, and the way your chest perked in the cold. Not to mention the sight of your thighs could cure diseases and the curve of your back changing into his shirt drove him mad. The thing that truly set him off though was how your chest pressed against him while you quickly hugged him. His hand was in his pants less than a minute after you shut the door. He thanked the universe that you had not made it to Megumi, he got angry just thinking about his friend seeing you like that instead of him. Why did that have to bother him so much?

-

You pointedly avoided him whenever you were at the school for the next three or so months. After you made Maki return his clothes for you he knew something was up but he never got the chance to talk to you about it, after all, it’s not like he would even really talk. Were you that mad about him not speaking normally to you? 

No, you were embarrassed, you couldn’t look at him without seeing the barely dressed version of himself from that night and you were not willing to risk going red in the face just by being near him. Not a chance. 

It felt like years before you were comfortable being close to him again but considering the frequency at which you were around the school, it’s not like you could avoid him forever. You would only ever dare be near him in a group setting though.

——

One night after a particularly calm week you, Maki, and some school mates were hanging around in Yuuji’s room. The atmosphere had been tense ever since Inumaki showed up but eventually lightened up. Though, when he responded to one of Yuuji’s jokes with a simple “Salmon Roe” you got ticked off. 

“Dude just fuckin talk for once,” you snapped, and the tension was once again as thick as could be. No one ever asked but people noticed the way you were suddenly avoidant of Inumaki and they were all too curious to see the culmination of it. 

Inumaki rolled his eyes and offered no response which only served to irk you more.

“You’re gonna fuckin talk. I don’t care what it takes I’m gonna make you somehow” you stared at him before scanning the room around you. You huffed, realizing you made it horrible awkward, and left the room without another word. 

It took two weeks for you to even dare show up at their school again. 

——

When you return it became Inumaki’s personal hell. You used any and every tactic to try to make him talk and spared him no mercy. He refused to budge though, dead set on winning this unofficial competition that you’re both locked in.

It went on like that for months, you got under his skin and he did everything in his power to keep his cool. Eventually, they were in their fourth year, which you constantly teased them for even having. How many schools in Japan have an extra year? Hilarious. 

You knew Inumaki was getting tired though, on top of his already ridiculously stressful life as a sorcerer he had to deal with you acting like a child constantly just because you wanted to hear him talk. It would’ve been easy to just give you a simple word and you’d be happy and leave him alone but he is far too stubborn and you were in far too deep. 

-

Tonight, somehow, his room is the center of gathering, and of course, as his luck would have it, Maki has you in tow. You know you’re being weird in this situation but he’s not doing any better, its been almost a year now since you’ve been in his room and you hope he doesn’t remember the circumstance. What you don’t know was that it is WAY worse for him than for you. He can’t even meet your eyes.

Ever since that encounter he’s thought about you nearly every night, the way the tiny clothes barely covered you. He thinks about taking you on every possible surface in that room and he thinks about laying with you afterwards and gazing into your eyes. He’s truly fucked. And now you're HERE? in HIS room? AGAIN? The universe definitely has it out for him.

Of course the torment never stops though, you pull trick after trick to see him crack and tonight is no different, you’re on your A-game. 

“Dude you know she’d shut up if you just said one thing,” Yuuji voices what everyone is thinking.

“Nah he secretly likes getting all of (Y/N)‘s attention” Maki adds.

He stands up immediately to defend himself, mouth open as if to speak, he catches himself and mutters some regular old sushi crap and sits down while shaking his head but you still noticed the slight break. You have a positively brilliant idea. Instead of being hurt by how vehemently he denied liking you, you decide you can use it to your advantage. His disdain will be the mother of his downfall.

All eyes are on you as you make your way over to his bad and sit next to him, “C’mon man just admit it you’re obsessed with me.” Your presence makes him shift uncomfortably.

You lean up even closer, “If not me, then who? You’re a man, right? there’s gotta be someone you fancy.” He glares at you. Bingo. Though the thought of him having feelings for someone else hurts, it isn’t important right now.

“Oh? Right on the nose?” you put your weight on his shoulder “Is it Maki? Though you can’t have her I saw her first.” The giggles that fill the room are a stark contrast to the animosity in the way he looks at you.

“Or is it Kugisaki hmm? Didn’t know you had a thing for younger girls, Inumaki.”

“Or maybe our dear silent prince has a secret girlfriend outside of school?” you sure hope not.

“Get fucked” he says lowly. 

shit. shit shit shit shit shit.  wait.

Your face lights up. You actually did it. You won. 

“Does that count as a curse?” you chuckle while your friends stare in disbelief. Your victory is short-lived as Maki stands up to announce that she’s leaving before things go even more sour and everyone else files out behind her. You attempt to weasel out with them but when you’re halfway out the door he pulls you back in the room and locks the door.

“You and I need to talk” he crosses his arms.

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “wow so after how many years we’re finally on speaking terms?” 

“What the hell is your problem?” his agitation is unsettling but your defiance is unwavering.

“Hey, everyone said you were nice when you used to talk whatever happened to that.” It dawns on you that you fucked up. You really fucked up.

“I don’t exactly have a desire to be nice to you right now” he unzips the jacket covering his face and for a moment your eyes are stuck taking in his all-too-often covered beauty. He points to the bed to tell you to go sit down but your head. “Fine. Be that way. Go sit” and you find yourself obeying his command because of his cursed speech. You realize should’ve thought that one through.

Once seated on the bed you peer up at him, “great I’m here now what?” 

“Now what? Now you’re gonna tell me where you get off on being a giant thorn in my side every minute of every day.” 

“I just wanted to hear-“ 

“No. This is about more than the speaking issue now. Why the hell do you feel the need to tease me about crushes when you already know how I feel about you.”  you are absolutely dumbfounded.

“What do you mean ‘How you feel about me’?” you quickly ask.

“Don’t play dumb I know you avoided me after that night because you knew I liked you” He feels like a child, arguing over something like a crush.

“I was avoiding you because-“ you don’t finish your sentence and instead wonder how you ended like this. Are you stupid or is he? Maybe both of you are just fart too oblivious.

“Because? C’mon spit it out” 

You don’t have a choice but to speak because of his cursed speech, “I was avoiding you because all I could think about was kissing you whenever I saw you and I didn’t want to embarrass myself” you choke out against your will. Inumaki pauses in shock and then smirks to himself. The situation is finally turning to favor him. 

“Oh? and how did you go from wanting to kiss me to wanting to make my life hell?” he peers down at you and walks closer to your spot on the edge of his bed.

You avoid his gaze and retreat farther into his bed. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive...” you trail off. He is loving this.

“I’m sorry what was that?” he leans over you and puts his hand to his ear. 

“Oh fuck off already” you whine and then he immediately has you pinned to the bed. 

“Babe, I think you forgot I get to give the commands here.” Why did he have to be so hot? You wriggle under him, struggling pointlessly against his grip, and finally meet his eyes. You instinctively tighten your thighs together and your face grows hot when you realized his proximity.  Your actions don’t go unnoticed.

“Say, (Y/N), do you remember the last time you were in my room?” you nod and swallow, remembering the way he looked with his hair wet and barely anything covering him. “Good, good,” he continues, “so you remember the skimpy little excuse of an outfit you were trouncing around in,” he leans closer and you can feel his breath as he speaks “or how you tore it off without a thought even though I was right there.” His gaze instills both fear and lust and each feeling intensifies as he removes one of his hands from its position holding you down and places it under your shirt to touch your side. 

The cold touch of his hand makes you shiver and he heavily considers stopping before he understands the extent to which you’re enjoying this. The realization makes him strain against his pants. “Did you think you would be safe because it was in front of me? Do you not take me seriously, (Y/N)?” He licks a stripe up your neck causing you to shudder and he proceeds to mock you with your earlier quip “I am a man you know” he trails his hand down ever so slightly and laughs when you whimper. 

“Why are you doing this?” your desire for the man on top of you is almost too much to bear, every word of his goes right to your and every touch sets your skin ablaze. The slick between your legs is already becoming a bother and he has barely put a hand on you. You’re aching for him to touch you.

“Well you have been making my life hell for a long damn time now I think it’s only fair that I get to teach you a lesson” his voice is as soft as usual and smooth as butter. You swallow thickly as he lowers his hand again until he reaches your hip bone, messing up your shorts a bit. 

“You said you thought about kissing me, right?”, you shift in his grasp again, embarrassed by your admission, but he goes on, “you wanna know what I’ve been thinking about?” you stare up at him inquisitively, silently begging an answer. He smiles and whispers “I’ve been thinking about fucking you on every surface in this room” The whine you let out is nothing short of embarrassing.

“Would you like that, (Y/N)?” he stares down at you. You know what he’s really asking and the weight of your response, and despite how much you want this, your self-consciousness forces you to avert your eyes and keep silent. “Ah? answer me.” 

You fall victim to his cursed speech again and quickly answer a soft, “yes.” He has you now. You hide your face in sheer embarrassment as he cockily smiles down at you.

“That’s what I thought. But somebody decided to be an insufferable bother instead of being a good girl and asking nicely for what she wanted. It’s a shame isn’t it?” he sighs.

You try to defend yourself, “I asked you to speak!” his hand squeezes your hip before rising up to grip your chin.

“We both know that’s not what I was talking about.”

He nips at your neck, “the only person you can blame for this predicament is yourself” when he reaches the juncture between your neck and shoulder he bites down hard causing you to gasp.

“I think I liked you better when you spoke in fish talk” It’s an obvious lie.

“Awe but princess whose fault is it that I had to break that.” He isn’t wrong and that makes it so much worse. He switches up and starts bombarding the other side of your neck. The hand holding your chin is left to explore your body, while the other hand is still holding yours down above you. It isn’t enough though, you need more of him.

 “Inu-“ you try to beg but he cuts you off.

“Toge” Your heart would jump at him wanting you to call him by his first name if you weren’t going crazy under him.

“Toge, please” 

“Please what?”

“Please hurry!” he snickers at your desperation. Bastard. 

“I think I’ll pass, doesn’t seem like you’ve learned your lesson.” He punctuates the sentence with a bite by your collarbone. You hate yourself for being turned on by this. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry and I promise it won’t happen again! Please!”

“God, fine,” he relents and moves his hand from your arms down to support himself but you didn’t dare move them even now that they’re free. ‘Cute’ Toge thinks to himself. Once he’s propped up he moves his other hand finally down below your shorts to your underwear, first feeling the wet spot on the outside and then moving them aside to dip two fingers into your heat. “You're soaked,” he says quietly, more to himself than to you.

“Shut up asshole, whose fault do you think it is?” you immediately regret your words.

He removes his hands and you whine at the loss, “Asshole? I wouldn’t complain when I’m giving you exactly what you asked for. Besides,” he moves from his position above you to the floor so he that he’s kneeling by your shorts, “I can be a lot more of an ‘asshole’ than this”. You finally move your arms down to support yourself so that you can see what he was doing and fall back down almost immediately as he sinks his teeth into your thigh. 

He’s an ass alright, he licks and nips and pokes and prods everywhere except where you need it for what feels like entire centuries.  You’re practically shaking with both frustration and anticipation. “This would be a lot easier if you didn’t move so fucking much” he hisses. 

“Well it would be a lot easier to stay still if you stopped teasing me and just fucked me already” he rolls his eyes at your response. You’re not getting what you want that easily. 

You jump when he leaves a particularly hard bite on your thigh. “Don’t move,” he commands and as his stupid ability would have it, you can’t move a muscle. You don’t miss the way he smiles to himself when he resumes his work tormenting you. 

When he at long last decides he’s done you inwardly jump for joy. Your celebration is short-lived though, “You're not off the hook yet,” he reminds you. 

“Can I at least move now?” you beg and he considers for a few seconds before speaking. 

“You can move now.” Thank god. If he didn’t release you who knows what might’ve happened. Probably not much since you couldn’t move but it definitely would’ve sucked. “Next time don’t make me use a curse to hold you still.” Next time? The thought of a next time fills you with both euphoria and anxiety. How would you deal with all of this again? Not to mention the main event hasn’t even begun yet. 

You’re stirred from your thoughts by him crawling up to finally meet your lips in a kiss. Generally, you kiss someone before you leave them a dripping mess but you’ll chastise him for that later. You’d prefer to savor this.

His lips are soft against yours and you’re pretty sure you can feel the cursed energy radiating off his mouth because of his ability. At first it’s soft and sweet, making you almost forget the nature of your situation, but it quickly grows aggressive with both of you wanting as much of the other as you could have. It’s messy and it’s grabby but it’s exactly what you need and you find yourself moaning into him. He pulls away to free himself of his jacket and t-shirt and you shamelessly ogle his toned torso. 

“Take a picture it’ll last you longer” he smirks at you from above.

“Not longer than this is taking Ill bet”

“Patience is a virtue, love, and this is still a punishment.” His words send shivers down your spine.

He crawls back on top of you. “You know, you’re always beautiful but seeing you desperate and panting is a special treat for the eyes.” you blush hard at his remark and try to squirm away before he holds you still. “Not so fast, princess, I thought you wanted this?” He runs his hand down your abdomen into your shorts and finally slips his fingers back into you. You mewl at the feeling and buck your hips unintentionally into his hand. 

It's practically bliss after all of the teasing he put you through. You lace your fingers in his hair and pull him in for another sloppy kiss while he finger fucks you. You’re in heaven. 

The boy knocks you out of your thoughts to whisper into your ear, “You know, babe, cursed aren’t the only thing my mouth is good for,” he slowly makes his way back down again between your legs. 

“Yeah I get it please don’t start back up with the teasing.”  You try to shut your legs in a strange attempt to deter him from resuming his earlier attack.

“Relax, I’m being nice, now arms up” he uses his power to command your arms back up above your head and finally pulls your shorts off of you. He pulls your underwear aside with his right hand and resumes his previous ministrations with his left, two fingers expertly stroking inside your most intimate area while you settle back into bliss. He smiles to himself and gently kisses your thigh before deciding to dive right into his next meal. You jump when you feel his tongue prod at your clit but you shudder with content when he finds his rhythm. Perhaps the gods actually are looking out for both of you.

He eats you like a five-star meal, savoring every moan and whimper that falls from your lips, he’s good and he knows it. You can’t even be sure if he’s doing this for you or for him. You’re so close and you desperately want him to finish you, “Toge, pleeeease” you moan and he quirks an eyebrow. Maybe it’s been a while but this certainly isn’t his first rodeo, he knows exactly what you're getting at. 

“What’s that? You wanna cum?” 

“God! Yes! Please!” you whine and he chuckles. Your orgasm is so close that you could reach out and grab it until he pulls his fingers out and you almost cry at the loss of contact. 

The shaman laughs at you, “Did you forget you were bad? If you want to redeem yourself you’re gonna have to cum on my cock.”  The way he speaks to you now is nothing like the normal Inumaki you know and the contrast would be frightening if it wasn’t so arousing. He stands up from his position kneeling in front of you and grabs your hips to pull you to the edge of the bed. “If I release you will you be good and stay there?” you nod furiously and he smiled, “you’re free” he whispers and you immediately use your arms to grab his neck and pull him in for another kiss.

Once he pulls away he grinds against you a few times. You lean into the contact. You’re so needy it feels like your skin is on fire and only his touches could put it out. He moves his hand to finally strip you of your underwear and discard it on the floor. 

You sit up to reach for his pants but he pushes you back into the mattress “What did I say?” you remember your promise not to move and stay down. He leans down to lock your lips in another deep kiss and runs his hands down your sides to reassure you. You’re sure he can feel your heart pounding. 

He pulls away so that he can reach and pull down his sweats and allow his erection to spring free. You’re surprised at the size he presents, considering how soft Toge’s presence generally is you wouldn’t have thought his dick would be so,,, imposing. But there you are practically salivating at it. He chuckles and you realize you’re staring. 

He pulls you even closer and spreads your legs, you quickly move to cover yourself but he stops you, “Awe c’mon baby, pretty girls shouldn’t hide.” he coos and leans over to kiss your forehead. 

He grabs himself and strokes against you to collect the slick still building between your thighs and you whine every time he passed over your swollen clit. It feels like you’re going to burst but you don’t want to disobey him and risk prolonging the torture so you keep as quiet as possible. 

When he decides he’s ready he puts his hands over your hips and slowly pushes in. He lets out a sultry groan that makes you clench. He lets his head hang back as he eases into his rhythm. You're sure you’ve never known such bliss. He fills every bit of you perfectly. His thrusts are steady and deliberate like everything else about him. He moves his hand just below your navel and grunts. When you look up to question him he takes your hand to rest it in the the same position and you’re shocked at what you find; he’s so big you can feel him from the outside. 

He could go on forever and you would be happy. It’s a perfect scene until his thrusts become frantic and then come to a halt. You whine and try to rock your hips into his but he holds you down.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him.

“Do you like me?” he quietly responds. 

“What?”

“Do you like me?” 

“Are you serious?” 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” You nod your head aggressively to his question. “Then, Do you like me?” You’re surprised he’s asking you about your feelings right now like they aren’t obvious. It's especially evident that he was avoiding using his cursed speech to get you to respond. He wants you to say it of your own volition. He wants you to mean it. 

“....yes”

“like you mean it” 

“Yes. I like you! Since the first time I saw you walking the grounds. I like you a whole fucking lot,” you confess sincerely, “now please get back to fucking me!”

Like a new man, he bends down and kisses you before grabbing your hips up off his bed to pull you into him while he thrusts into you. It’s a slight difference but the new angle is twice as he’s and thrice as deep. Your moans grow loud but you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. 

You reach down to touch yourself but he quickly swats your hand away, “You can touch when I say so,” he huffs, “Only I get to touch you right now.”  

You plead with him, but your words came out in stutters because of his hard thrusts, “But..... wanna cum...... feels good.”

He tries to stifle a laugh at your desperation, “Baby, I don’t see what you’re not getting, you can cum when I say so.” You look up at him with pure need. “Do you think you deserve to cum?” you nod your head quite enthusiastically. He looks over you to take in your flushed face and the way your hair clings to the sweat on your neck, it's the most beautiful sight that has ever graced his eyes. “Are you sure?” he asks and you nodded again. He grins mischievously and leans towards your ear, “then cum.” 

He doesn’t even need to touch you for you to see stars. His cursed speech makes the knot in your stomach snap immediately. He continues pumping in and out of you while you writhe and spasm under him from the intensity of your orgasm. He adores the fact that it was him making you feel this way. He adores the way that tears prick your eyes from the overwhelming sensation. He adores the way you fumble for words. Mostly he adores you. Fuck. He’s close.

You find yourself already quickly approaching another high, “Toge-“ he cuts you off.

“Shh, gettin close,” he says, “Can you manage another one for me? Wanna come together.” you nod to him and he smiled, “Atta girl, where do you want it?” 

It’s a considerate question but you’re embarrassed to answer, you don’t want to keep him waiting though. 

“.. Inside.... please,” you say it so softly he barely hears it. Once he registers your words he groans at the thought of you wanting him to coat your insides. This is his dream come true. 

He gives everything he had in his last thrusts, fucking into you like his life depends on it. “Are you ready?” 

“Ah-   fuck-   yes,” you moan out, “please, Toge.” Were you trying to kill him?

With the way you say his name he knows he can’t hang on much longer. He takes a deep breath in and leans down to whisper in your ear, “cum for me.” His cursed words flowed through your body as you come undone around him. As soon as Toge feels you contract around him he grunts, his thrusts become sloppy as he finishes inside of you and the heat emanating from it only intensifies your orgasm. He kisses you again while you both calm down. This one is softer than any other so far, it’s loving and reverent. It suits the calm and quiet Inumaki you fell in love with. He pulls away for air, taking a few deep breaths before he pulls out of you with a sigh. He wipes his length with the shirt he discarded on the floor earlier, tucks himself into his underwear, and pulls his sweats back up to his hips.

“Oh my god, how am I supposed to walk to the showers without anyone seeing me?” you panic.

“You just have to ruin the moment don’t you?” he sighs while walking over to his dresser and fishing for something. He pulls out a towel and heads back over to a water bottle on his nightstand, he offers you a sip before dumping some of it on the towel to dampen it. He pats the part of the bed closest to him so you crawl over. He uses the soft towel to gently but thoroughly wipe you off before doing the same to himself. 

“I guess that works,” He doesn’t respond to you but instead walks back over to his drawers to grab a pair of underwear and a large t-shirt to throw in your direction. “I am not wearing your underwear,” you protest.

“I don’t think you want yours,” he responds and you look at your underwear on the floor, wet and wrinkly. He isn’t wrong.

You step into the underwear he offered you and throw off your sweaty shirt in favor of his clean one, “Thanks,” you mumble awkwardly, not sure how to tread after what just happened. 

The shaman grabs you and plopped back into his bed, holding you to his chest, “So you like me huh?” he says quietly and you turn red.

“I guess I might’ve said that” you avoid his gaze but he turns you around to look at him. 

He kisses you on the forehead, “You’re finally mine,” he said softly, not possessive loving.

“I don’t recall agree-” you try to add but he cuts you off.

“Would you say no?”

“Well no but-”

“Then don’t complain” he kisses your cheek and you sigh. He gets out of the bed to go look for something and comes back with his cell phone, “here.” He hands it to you to put your number in.

“I can’t help but feel like we’re doing things backwards,” you snort.

“I can’t keep talking, at least this way we can write.” You set your contact name and put a little heart at the end, which he smiles at, and send yourself a text. Upon hearing the ding on your cellphone you go into the messages save his contact. 

He hops back into the bed with you and holds you close to him. He kisses your forehead again and pulls back to send you a text.

——-

NEW UNREAD MESSAGE 

FROM: Toge️ <3

does this mean you’ve learned your lesson? 

——-

You giggle at the message and peck him on the lips. You type out your response and he rolls his eyes when he receives it.

——-

TO: Toge️ <3

i make no promises 

——-

He smiles and shakes his head as he turns off the lamp beside his bed and he pulls you in tight as you both drift off to sleep. 

[flying-guinea-pig]

Not What He Seems (ch.1)

(Prefer to read this on AO3?)

(It’s happening folks. The big reveal, four years in the making.)

NotWhat He Seems: Chapter 1

Thomas' heart always beat a little faster when he summoned something, even after several years in this job. It was the thrill of calling a powerful being into this reality with only your wits and some chalk lines as protection.

Beëlzebob was an intermediate-level demon. He took the appearance of every cliché devil ever - hairy black goat legs, a ridiculously buff and gleaming red upper body, large curled horns. The works.

He was also not cooperating at all.

"You are... di̵s̢tra͢c̢te͜d," the demon whispered, his voice echoing back strangely from the corners of the summoning lab. The shadows seemed to thicken.

Thomas kept his face impassive. These were just some special effects, after all. His binding circle was perfect, he didn't need to worry.

"I have outlined our offer in this document. These are the terms you have previously discussed at length with my colleague," he said, reaching out slightly to hand Beëlzebob the carefully rolled up contract. "All should be in order."

The demon unrolled it and took his sweet time reading it through. He would make a good addition to the safe summons list, despite being a bit higher level than their usual choices. This old-fashioned approach, with the written contract and all - it would teach the students to be patient and give them time to focus on the details before shaking on anything.

"Yes," the demon said, dragging a black claw over the parchment. "These terms are acceptable. However, there is one issue."

"Is there?"

A horrible, fanged grin. "The contract must be written in your o̦̰͚w̮̮n̬͇̹̕ blood, mortal."

Maybe it was his experience with grandstanding demons, or Tyrone had been rubbing off on him, but Thomas was not impressed. "That wasn't in the agreement."

"You will rewrite it. Ḩè̲̙͙̩̤r̦e̹̦ ͏͕̥a̝̱̺͟n̘͔d ̛̦̱̲̖n̩͈̪o̰̻͓͓͢w̺͍͎̦.̪̣͇̩́"

"No, I don't think so," Thomas said, mildly. Seriously? All that work was just wasted? Typical. He was not going to use his own blood to write it, sheesh. With all those clauses and addendums the thing was way too long. Not to mention willingly given human blood had power - power that wasn't a part of this offer.

The shadows twisted - the candles flared. "You will, little mortal, or I will step over this boundary and write it myself, straight from your veins."

"This attitude is not convincing me you're a good fit for our list."

"You have summoned me and I will not leave without my deal!" Red-tinged smoke filled the circle, edging over the chalk lines and spreading into the room. It stank of sulphur and decay.

Thomas coughed. Dramatics aside, maybe it was time to get rid of Beëlzebob. Too bad, Hicks would be disappointed to cross off another name on the safe summons list… It had shrunk a lot in the past years. If this kept up their students would soon only get to summon the Organ Duck. If they couldn’t offer a proper practical education they might eventually run out of interested students as well, which was bad news for the survival of the demonology department.

"Whoa, did someone drop a rotten egg in here?"

Tyrone usually didn't barge in during summonings, especially when they were trying to get more demons for the safe summons list, but this time Thomas didn't mind. The open door let in some fresh air and that was very welcome at the moment.

Tyrone entered the room, waving away some of the smoke. "Hey, Hicks mentioned you wanted to have a talk?"

"What? Oh, yeah," Thomas said, distracted. The smoke was dissipating with record speed and Beëlzebob was visible again, staring at Tyrone in abject terror. "I'm a bit busy right now though."

"Do you need any help?" Tyrone offered. His smile was perfectly friendly.

Thomas glanced at Beëlzebob. "As a matter of fact, he was just leaving."

"Yes! Yes indeed," the demon hurried to say. "Just leaving. Right now. I’m going. Big misunderstanding, you know how it is, have to be somewhere else, goodbye now!"

“Thanks buddy," Tyrone said. "Very accommodating of you, leaving without a deal like that. I will remember this. Here, have a snack."

With a snap of his fingers a familiar deep-fried ball appeared, partly wrapped in a festive paper towel.

Beëlzebob caught it with a flinch and popped away without another sound.

“So, what exactly did you want to talk about?”

“Just a second, let me clean up first.” He frowned at Tyrone. “Speaking of cleaning up, what happened to your shirt?”

“What?” Tyrone glanced down at the brown stains on his usually so crisp white shirt, and made a face. “Aw man, seriously?”

“Do I want to know?”

“I bumped into Banerjee on my way here. He was carrying samples. And he didn’t even apologize, can you believe it?”

Banerjee was the Cryptozoology department’s newest hire, working on his doctorate involving – honestly, Thomas had no idea, he just knew it involved a lot of mud. He wasn’t aware of Tyrone’s true identity. The university staff tried to keep that one under wraps. Parents might object to their children coming to a university where Alcor the Dreambender was frequently hanging around.

“He owes me a new shirt.”

Thomas rolled his eyes. “You can literally make it brand new with a thought.”

“He doesn’t know that. It’s about the principle of the thing.”

Shaking his head, Thomas set to work. To his students it often came as a surprise that practical demonology involved a lot of cleaning up. The preparations were extensive, of course, but afterwards someone had to put away the candles and mop up the chalk, blood, and other assorted fluids the demons occasionally left behind. Beëlzebob in particular had left footprints of some kind of sulphurous ooze that he probably shouldn’t handle without gloves…

Safely removing summoning circles was an art, really. It’s not like you could just start scrubbing away with these things – the outer part was usually the binding circle, and you never knew if the demon was still hanging around, invisible, waiting for you to make a mistake. Not that he expected something to happen while Alcor the Dreambender was literally waiting at the door, but proper caution was a good habit to have.

“You know, I could clean this up for you with a snap of my fingers,” Tyrone mused, lounging against the wall while he waited. His shirt held no trace of the brown stains.

“Are you offering?”

“For free?”

Thomas snickered at the almost scandalous look on Tyrone’s face. Put down his cleaning supplies. He had planned to do this differently, but you know what? Now might be as good a time as ever. And it would be fun, wouldn’t it, to put Tyrone off-balance for a moment? “How about a deal then?”

Tyrone perked up.

“You get this room back to its cleaned-up, usable state,” said Thomas, and felt the smile break through on his face. “In return, you get to be my best man.”

To his credit, it didn’t take Tyrone long to realise. “Thomas! You finally popped the question then?”

“Yep. I said I was going to do it soon, this can’t be a surprise –“

“And she said yes?”

“We did talk about it beforehand, you know –“

“Congrats!”

“Thanks,” Thomas grinned. “So, what do you say? Fair warning though, being my best man comes with certain responsibilities. Making sure I’m on time at the wedding and such.”

Organising the stag night as well, technically. Though Thomas suspected Brad already had some thoughts in that direction.

“I’ve been someone’s best man before, I know how it goes,” Tyrone said. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Thomas.”

The room around them shifted, the magical arrays fading away and taking the trailing odour of brimstone with them.

Tyrone’s expression shifted too, as he let go of Thomas’ hand.

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked.

“Nothing.”

“You seem upset?”

“I am happy for you,” Tyrone said. “It’s just… you’re getting old.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“No, I mean – look at you! Getting married. Maybe kids and a house, soon.”

“I’m not buying a house on a teacher’s salary,” Thomas said. “The rest… who knows? We’ll see how it goes. Is that what’s upsetting you? That I’m growing up?”

Tyrone shrugged awkwardly. He seemed smaller somehow. “You’re going to be very busy with all that – that life stuff. It’s happening already. Everyone is so busy. Your dates with Elisha, Eddy’s got his new job, Brad’s mucking around in his dad’s company - when was the last time we all hung out, just for fun? Not because it was someone’s birthday or anything? It’s been ages since we had a game night.”

That… had been a while, true. “I guess that’s what happens when you get older. There are more demands on your time, you get to juggle more responsibilities.”

“I’m not getting older.”

“Right.” Thomas took a deep breath.  “Listen, so… we’re busy more often. And it’s not like in college, where we all could just hang out all the time. But you’re basically part of the family, Tyrone. Alcor. You’ll always have a place here. And I’m sure the rest of the gang would say the same.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Thomas said. And smiled, to lighten the mood. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“You’d just miss all the amazing deals I make with you.”

“Of course” Thomas said, glad Tyrone was now teasing instead of moping. “I’m clearly only using you for your clout as Alcor. You’ve made my life so much easier.”

Tyrone mimed a gasp. “Sarcasm, Thomas? Ouch.”

“Not entirely sarcasm,” Thomas admitted. “You do make my life easier, sometimes. When you feel like it. For instance, vanishing that sulphurous stuff Beëlzebob left behind, I was not looking forward to handling that. The smell lingered.”

Tyrone suddenly looked way too innocent. “Oh, I didn’t exactly vanish it.”

Oh Stars. “What did you do?”

“Might have put it somewhere. Like, oh, I dunno… Banerjee’s car.”

Thomas facepalmed. Serves him right for making a vague deal like that. “Is it at least safe?”

“Define ‘safe’.”

“Tyrone!”

“Don’t worry, Thomas, I promised not to deliberately harm the university’s students and faculty, remember? He’ll be fine.”

“All this for an accidental stain on your shirt, really?”

Tyrone folded his arms in front of him. “He didn’t apologize.”

Thomas shook his head, exasperated.

Demons. They really knew how to hold grudges.

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

The Mindscape was a vast, endless realm where the strong hunted the weak and territories were defined, invaded, and redefined. This was the place where demons lived, and they didn’t like each other any better than they liked humans. The collective noun for a group of demons, as they say, is ‘a carnage’. Teaming up was rare, and more often than not ended in the stronger one destroying the other as soon as their goal was met. That was just the natural order of things.

Even so, sometimes even they needed a neutral place to go. Somewhere deals could be made without worrying about being devoured. This place was the Midway Bar, run by a demon known only as the Bartender, and for the past six years it had attracted a group of regulars.

They took over the table in the corner. Sometimes the group lost a member, occasionally it gained one. They weren’t here to make deals. They were here to drown their misery and sneak away before a stronger demon took advantage of their intoxication to ambush them outside these walls.

Beëlzebob entered the Midway Bar. He went straight to the Bartender, who after a short conversation pointed in the direction of the gloomy table in the corner.

“Get lost,” Flaga the Eagle-winged said, at his approach.

The demon next to her, who mostly looked like a giant fungus with teeth, curled a green tendril around their glass. “Yeah. This is a private party.”

Beëlzebob paused. He was stronger than each of them, he knew. But this was no place for threats. “Apologies for the interruption. May I sit?”

That wasn’t how demons talked to each other, especially not to a bunch of low-levels like them. They shared a suspicious glance. The one across from Flaga, some kind of feathered crocodile hybrid, raised his empty glass meaningfully.

Of course. “Listening can parch the throat so,” Beëlzebob said. “Let me get those refilled for you, and then we̙̮'̥͉̘ll̟̮ ț̳̮a̪̩̗̥l̯̹̹k̰.”

[reinerispretty]

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt2

if you’d like to read part 1, click here! 

thanks so much for reading!! i hope you guys are enjoying it. if you have any ideas/thoughts about how this story should go, message me!! i have a pretty good idea about where i want to go with this but i’m always open to suggestions :) also i apologize for this chapter being shorter! 

Things started to change the summer of her eleventh year. The two families spent yet another summer on Ember Island. Since her family was of a lesser status than Zuko’s, (Y/N’s) summer house was in a completely different section of the island. It was a long walk, but she didn’t mind it. She tended to travel to Zuko’s house rather than the other way around, because Zuko was required to use a palanquin to travel around the island and they both agreed that it was horribly embarrassing. 

---

After Prince Zuko’s birthday celebration, (Y/N) had been invited to the Fire Lord’s Palace much more frequently. While she did not mind being with Zuko and Azula at all, she couldn’t understand it. Her father and mother were not being invited to the palace, so why was she going?

“Perhaps the Fire Lord would like to keep an eye on the future of our nation,” was the only explanation her father had provided. It satisfied her to think that Fire Lord Azulon admired her bending skills that greatly that he would want to keep her close to his own family. 

Throughout the years, every aspect of her life had become entwined with the royal family’s. Their families vacationed together at Ember Island every summer. She even joined Zuko and Azula’s firebending lessons. She did not mind being invited to the palace every day. As she grew older, the tension between herself and her mother amplified, so it was a relief to be able to get away from her family. When she was at the palace, she was treated almost like royalty. Azula and Zuko reminded her of her place occasionally, the former sometimes more harshly than the latter. While she did consider herself to be friends with Azula, and although she would never admit it, (Y/N) preferred to spent her time with Zuko. They had become fast friends since the night of his birthday celebration. When she was not at the palace, they exchanged letters which updated each other on every aspect of their lives. When she was at the palace, she and Zuko were attached at the hip. Where Zuko went, (Y/N) went, and vice versa. 

Things started to change the summer of her eleventh year. The two families spent yet another summer on Ember Island. Since her family was of a lesser status than Zuko’s, (Y/N’s) summer house was in a completely different section of the island. It was a long walk, but she didn’t mind it. She tended to travel to Zuko’s house rather than the other way around, because Zuko was required to use a palanquin to travel around the island and they both agreed that it was horribly embarrassing. 

She walked through the town square and waved to friends that were also there for the summer. Her beach bag bounced against her hip. Zuko promised that they would go swimming today. He wasn’t a big fan of water, but she had won a bet over who could fit the most Fire Flakes into their mouth. 

(Y/N) bounced up to the steps of the royal family’s beach house and knocked. A servant answered the door. “Hello!” She said, a bright smile on her face. “Is Zuko free?” Despite his family being away for the summer, (Y/N) found herself waiting around for Zuko a lot because of his duties. The servant nodded and left silently to alert the twelve-year-old of her presence. 

“Beach day with Zuzu?” She peaked around the corner to see Azula reading a Fire Nation newspaper. The young princess was only ten, but she had more than proven how vicious she could be. (Y/N) didn’t mind. Azula could be a pain sometimes, but she was mostly harmless. She had spent a lot of time with Azula and could see the small acts of kindness the girl was capable of. 

“Yeah! Would you like to join us?” 

“I think I’ll stay home today. I doubt Zuzu would want me to ruin the proposal.” 

(Y/N) blinked at her friend. “I’m sorry?” 

Azula smirked. “Oh, I probably shouldn’t have said anything. You two have just been spending so much time together that I thought you knew.” 

“Azula, I would really appreciate it if you would stop being so vague.” 

Azula rolled her eyes. “Why do you think Grandfather made you present your firebending at Zuko’s birthday? Or why you’re always at the royal palace? Or why you’re always spending time with us?” 

“I...I don’t know what I thought--” Azula turned back to her newspaper. 

“They’ve been grooming you to marry Zuko. I heard our fathers talking about it before we came here. It’s only a matter of time before the proposal becomes official.” 

Zuko entered the room then, wrapped in a Fire Nation robe. He glared at his sister, but smiled at his friend. “Are you ready to go?” 

Azula giggled but remained quiet. She nodded, unsure of whether or not she could trust her voice. 

The two walked in silence down to the beach, which was very uncommon for them. Usually, she had some sort of story to share about how ridiculous her mother was being, but now she could only think of what Azula had said. It made her feel a bit rotten that the royal family only wanted her around to make sure that she would be a good wife for Zuko. And what did Azula mean, that it was only a matter of time before the proposal becomes official? (Y/N) was eleven! She was far too young to get married and far too young to even consider it! Sure, she had developed a bit of a crush on Zuko over the years, but she just thought he was cute! She definitely wasn’t ready for him to propose to her!

“You’re being quiet today.” Zuko took the towel from underneath her arm and laid it out on the sand. She shrugged and sat on top of it, watching absent-mindedly as he set up their umbrella. “Did your mom say something mean again?” 

She shook her head and chewed on her bottom lip. She did that when she was nervous. Should she bring it up to Zuko? What if he already knew? What if he didn’t? Was he in on it the whole time, or did he genuinely have no clue that this plan had been orchestrated behind their backs since they met. 

She swallowed. Her throat felt dry. Zuko was her best friend. He knew her fears, her hopes, and her dreams. She liked to think that she knew all of his, too. She decided to be honest with him. 

“Azula told me something today.” Zuko frowned. 

“If she said that I cried while eating Fire Gummies, she’s wrong, I had something in my eye and--” 

“No, it’s not that. She said that your father and mine had been planning on arranging our marriage, and that’s why I’m always invited to the palace and why I always hang out with you.” She avoided his gaze by looking out at the water. The waves were calm today and were a brilliant shade of blue. 

Zuko inhaled a deep breath. “(Y/N), Azula always lies. You know that.” 

“Well her lie sounded pretty convincing if you ask me.” She turned to face him, her eyes staring deeply into his. Zuko couldn’t lie to her: they both knew this. It was too easy to tell when he was lying. “Did you know that your family has been basically grooming me to marry you?” 

Zuko stared at her blankly, giving no answer. But that was all the confirmation that she needed. She tossed sand at him. “Hey! What the heck?” 

“You knew and you didn’t say anything?” She demanded. 

“What was I supposed to say? Hey, by the way, our parents agreed that we’d get married to each other once we’re old enough?” 

“You could have said something, at least. Azula told me. Azula! Do you know how embarrassing that is?” 

“I only just found out about it a few weeks ago. I was sworn to secrecy! Please don’t be mad.” 

She crossed her arms and looked away from her friend. On one hand, she did not like having her future decided for her. But on the other hand, she knew she had a duty to her nation. If she married Zuko, both of their parents would be happy. She would be taken care of. And she supposed that marrying her best friend wasn’t the worst thing that could ever happen to her. 

“I don’t think you being the Fire Princess would be so bad,” Zuko continued. “You could get as many Fire Flakes as you wanted, at any time that you wanted.” She couldn’t help but crack a smile. 

“I guess I can’t really say no if our fathers already decided for us.” 

“I mean, you could, but you’d still be forced to marry me.” She punched him then stood, extending her hand. 

“It’s gonna take a lot to get married to your stupid face. You’d better get started.” 

read part 3 here

[jimlingss]

Sugar and Coffee [16]

Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17

➜ Words: 3k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

cr.

On Wednesday, you begin to bake, cut, and fill.   The ingredients are pulled from the borrowed kitchen — eggs, butter, buttermilk, vegetable oil, sugar, flour, baking powder, unsweetened cocoa powder, and vanilla. The oven is preheated to three hundred degrees fahrenheit and the round pans are greased. The four of you measure and mix together the dry ingredients, and then the wet ingredients.    Once it’s all ready, it’s baked while the ganache filling is worked on. Heavy cream, butter, chocolate, and a pinch of kosher salt are melted together with two tablespoons of brewed coffee to deepen the flavour. It cools and thickens, a fluffy texture that melts against your palate.    And when the moist cake is out of the oven, it cools too before being cut and filled.   “Alright, folks.” Namjoon dusts his hands off, shutting the fridge door. “Now on Friday, we just cover, dowel, and stack. Since the wedding is on Saturday, we want it to sleep overnight.”   “We’re going to have to prepare decorations tomorrow,” Sejeong says. If there was anyone’s cake that she wanted to perfect, it was her own sister’s. “Crumb coat the cakes and smooth the frosting, colour the fondants, make the flowers. Just so we can get it prepared in time and not be rushing on the last day.”    “Okay.” You offer a smile. “Are we still going with lavender?”   “That’s the plan. But we can worry about that tomorrow. How have you two been? Any problems?”   You glance at Jungkook, meeting his eye, but you divert hastily. “N-No, we’re fine. We’ve been enjoying ourselves. Thank you for bringing us along.”   “That’s not a problem.” Namjoon laughs heartily, practically glowing with a healthy tan. “We’re happy to have two more sets of hands. God knows the wedding is hectic and stressful enough, right, honey?”   “Chungha is having it tougher.” His wife sighs. “We’re just glad to get this done and over with.”   In between family feuds and relatives duking it out, you don’t need to tell them that you and Jungkook are incidentally sharing the same room over a mistake in booking. They have enough on their plates as it is.   But just because you don’t talk about your issues doesn’t mean that they’ve magically vanished.   Even if you wish that were the case.   “Morni—”   The moment you open your sleepy eyes, Jeon Jungkook has manifested in the mirror. You choke on your toothpaste, toothbrush sucked into your throat like a vacuum, lodged in. You choke it out and sputter.    Jungkook’s shocked awake, eyes widened as he pats your back.   You cough and rinse your mouth. “Oh my god. You scared me to death!”   “All I said was good morning!” He shoots you a look, leaning in too close with his still sleepy demeanour, fluffed hair and swollen face. “Are you alright?”   “Obviously not! I almost died!”   You’re not okay. Very far from any semblance of ‘okay’.   For one, you can’t look the bastard in the eye. You can’t stop yourself from perspiring. It’s as if your best friend is someone worthy to be fearful of…   No. It’s not that you’ve become afraid of Jungkook. You’re nervous.   “I’m going to shower.”   “Sounds good.”   It shouldn’t be surprising. He even warned you. But the moment Jungkook starts to strip off his shirt, you’re caught off guard at how he didn’t wait for you to leave ⁠— how comfortable he is with you. You have half a mind left to sprint out of the bathroom. Nearly falling over. Barely catching your stumble.    Jungkook watches with his brows raised incredulously.   The bathroom door eventually shuts and you change as quick as you can, and run out of the room without a word. Like you’re being chased by loan sharks.   “Hey, Y/N.” After ten minutes, Jungkook comes out topless, having forgotten to grab a shirt. But he pays no mind, toweling off his head. “We should get room servi—…...Y/N?”   The doe-eyed boy looks around, realizing that you’re gone.   You’ve headed across the resort to the restaurant for breakfast. Finally, you’re able to have a meal in peace without having to lift your head to see a big nose and brown, doe eyes.    You grab a healthy serving of eggs, toast and cereal. And you pick a good table to look out and enjoy the view.   But fifteen minutes into your meal, someone suddenly plops down across from you.   You’re startled to death again.   “I can’t believe you ditched me.”   “S-Sorry…” You look away. “I was too hungry to wait.”   “Could’ve told me at least. I would’ve hurried up.” He spreads cream cheese on his bagel, ruffled mop of hair flopping as he moves. He’s dressed like a true tourist again, this time with a hawaiian shirt that’s bright orange with blue florals all over it.   Jungkook’s eyes are round and buggy as he bites down and he hums in satisfaction at the taste. “So what are our plans for today? It’s the only full day we have left before we have to work on the cake.”   “I don’t know.” You stand up. “I finished. Should go back to the room. I have a stomach ache.”   “Really?” His left cheek is puffed out with food stored inside. “But I just got here.”   “Nature calls.” You run off, leaving your best friend in the dust.   It’s horrible being stuck on an island with Jeon Jungkook.    No matter where you run or how you hide, he’s always there.   “How was the—”   You scream.   “—bathroom trip.” Jungkook looks at you, brows furrowed deep.   “You scared me!” You put your hand over your heart where it’s pounding hard, threatening to jump out of your chest.   “But I didn’t do anything,” he defends, mouth drawing open as he gestures around, perplexed at how you could be frightened in broad daylight, in the middle of the day, with this many people around. “Are you sure you’re okay?”   “I’m fine. H-how’d you even find me?!”   “I don’t know, I was just heading back to the room. The resort isn’t that big.” He shrugs and finally is able to get a good look at you. Jungkook slowly smiles at your one-piece swimsuit. “Are you going in for a dip? I can join.”   The thought of Jungkook ripping off his shirt, jumping into the pool and getting all wet with you has your knees weak. It’s not a healthy idea.    “No. Changed my mind. It’s kind of….cold out for a swim. I’m probably going to go back inside to change.”   “Y/N. It’s hot. It’s like a hundred degrees out here.”   You muster stiff laughter. “Well I’m feeling a bit chilly. Gonna go back and change. See ya!”   You sprint off again, in a completely disoriented manner. Jungkook shouts your name when you nearly slip on a puddle of water by the poolside and almost crack your head open. But luckily, you catch yourself and throw him a half-hearted smile and an exaggerated wave goodbye.    Part of you wishes you would’ve just fallen into the pool or hit your head. Maybe it would finally knock some sense into your brain.   There’s no reason for you to be so nervous around him. This is Jeon Jungkook you’re talking about — IU fanboy, the biggest nerd of the universe, officially the worst flirt on this planet.   There’s absolutely no reason for your stomach to flip. For you to be unable to retain eye contact with your friend. For you to suddenly be so self-aware and conscious of him that you feel nervous when he’s around and nervous when he’s not. There’s no reason whatsoever…   “You need to get your head straight.”   You’re muttering to yourself as you walk. You probably look crazy, but need to hear it out loud. If no one’s going to help you by saying it, then you’ll say it yourself. “Focus, Y/N. Focus—”   A blood-curdling shriek tears from your stomach when there’s suddenly knocking. You turn to see Jeon Jungkook beside you, separated by a window, but laughing hysterically at your reaction. His nose is scrunched, mouth drawn up into that boyish smile of his.   He’s inside the fitness center in a white tank top, sweating enough to make his hair damp, and the dark stands are pushed back against his head. That little shit is scaring you on purpose now.   “Are you shitting me, Jeon Jungkook?!” Your fist pounds against the glass and you fail to notice how everyone else in the gym is whirling their heads around at the noise.   The resort attendant runs up on you.   “Ma’am, please don’t bang on the glass.”   “S-sorry.”   Jungkook is in bigger hysterics now, bent over and grabbing his stomach, laughing loud enough for you to hear through the window. His smile is excited, eyes lit up.   Everywhere. Every corner you turn to. Every path you take. Some way or another — whether you’re talking to Namjoon or Chungha, hanging at the bar, around the pool, on the beach to watch the waves — no matter how hard you try to evade him, Jungkook is always there.   You didn’t know it would be so hard to avoid him. He’s truly like the plague.   Or maybe a curse.    Better yet, it would be more fitting to call Jeon Jungkook the year-round Christmas grinch. He’s here to ruin your life, ruin your holiday, and make your head filled with him and only him.   “You’re not avoiding me, are you?”   He finally asks after crawling into bed beside you that night. His hands are folded on top of his midsection and he’s staring up at the ceiling even if he can’t see when the entire room is drowned in a comfortable darkness.   You muster some laughter. “Don’t be ridiculous.”   The sheets shift and from the little light coming through the terrace glass doors, you can see him looking at you. And you can feel his body warmth with the small distance. “I would hate it if you were a hypocrite since you don’t like when others ghost you.”   “I said I’m not,” you whine. The lie gives a tickle of guilt in your gut. “You shouldn’t accuse people after they’ve already defended themselves.”   “Okay.” The corners of his lips quirk. “Just making sure. I don’t want to scare you off.”   You scoff, eyes adjusting enough to be able to look at him. It’s quiet, with him beside you underneath the covers, too close but too far. Yet somehow, in spite of the silence of your room, it’s still very noisy inside your head. “You really think you’re going to get rid of me that easily?”   “No. And I’m glad for that. I wouldn’t want to lose you.” Jungkook grins and he teases, “You’re not a coward, Y/N. Right?”   “Psh. Go to bed, Jeon.”   “Hmm, I’m not tired, but I do know an activity we can do together that’ll tire me right out.”   “Yeah, my fist meeting your face.”   He laughs and you roll over, tugging the covers up to your chin.   You don’t say out loud, don’t admit it, but you are a coward.    One big coward who pretends to face the truth with courage, but actually learnt to run and hide in the face of trouble. A coward who can’t face the music, who’s actually wide awake like he is, but won’t say it. Whose heart is stuttering too loud to try to slip underneath the seduction of slumber.    You won’t admit the funny feeling you get when your gaze sets upon Jungkook. You won’t acknowledge it even when it’s screaming into your ear drums and drumming against your rib cage. You won’t confess that the nervousness you feel is far from platonic.   It’s hard not to feel stuck on Jungkook. These days, the last person you see before you sleep is him and he’s the first person you see when you wake up. He’s both the beginning and the end.   “Hey, Y/N.” You’re stirred away by a soft voice calling to you. “Wake up.”   When your lids peel back, you see him. The strands of his black hair nearly tickle the skin of your cheeks and he smiles tenderly at you. “We have a long day. Come on.”   You’re a coward and you have been for some time now.   //   Friday is the busiest day of the week. It’s the eve of the wedding and where you’re in the kitchen for hours on end.   Between the four of you, the lilac-coloured fondant is rolled out to cover the chocolate cake and ganache frosting. The dowel rods are inserted and the cake is stacked. Once it’s to Sejeong’s satisfaction, the decorating process begins. The sugar lavender that you made yesterday is used, placed delicately in the correct positions and you work on tracing a lace pattern on the bottom most layer.   Hours later, with muscles sore and eyes stinging, she’s finally satisfied.   It ends up looking magnificent. All the effort is presented in front of you — the cake is a soft purple colour, lavender flowers made from gum paste and real lilacs edible.   “It’s too pretty to eat.”   “It always is.” Sejeong smiles. “But when we do, it’ll be delicious.”   Namjoon stretches his arms over his head, making noises as his bones crack. “I’m starving. What time is it?” He checks his watch. “I think the snack bar is still open. We should go eat now since we have to wake up bright and early tomorrow.”   “I forgot how much work it was to be a bridesmaid.” Sejeong sighs lightly. “Let’s just get the cake in the fridge for now.”   Jungkook and Namjoon carefully move the cake into the refrigerator area, a whole cold storage, and you take your aprons off, washing your hands. Sejeong turns to you and Jungkook. “Are you guys hungry too? You probably are since we’ve been working so late.”   You exchange a look with him. “N-No. We’re fine.”   “Are you sure?” Namjoon asks, brows raised.   “Yeah, I’m sure. I’m more tired than hungry. I’ll probably call it a night.”   “Same here.” Jungkook offers a smile, following your lead.   “Well alright, I’ll see you both bright and early then! Good job, you two.” Namjoon smiles and both he and his wife leave the kitchen, talking to one another until their voices fade away.   Jungkook then turns to you with his brow raised. “Are you really not hungry?”   You look down at your stomach and it rumbles. You wonder if he can hear it too. “I thought I’d give them alone time since we’ve been busy all day….”   An extended sigh pulls from the man’s lungs.   Jungkook smiles and as he passes by you, he ruffles your hair. “You’re so unnecessarily thoughtful sometimes….”   You turn around, trailing after him. Jungkook opens the fridge and hums, eyes searching.    “What are you doing?” you ask curiously.   “Looking for ingredients since a little someone said they weren’t hungry and now we can’t go to the only place still open.” He grins easily. “So unless you want to go back to the hotel room and wait half an hour for room service, I’ll cook.”   Jungkook sounds so self-assured that you comply, finding your place on a stool as he begins to pull out mushrooms, shallots, parmesan cheese, butter, and starts digging around the cupboards. “You can cook?”   “’Course I can. I’m a master of the kitchen.” His eyes flicker up and the little shit mocks you. “Why? Can’t you?”   “The pan always burns,” you mutter.   “Is that why you can’t melt chocolate over the stove?” he questions with a glint of mischief.   “For the record, I’m getting better. It’s not like I do it intentionally anyway. But are we even allowed to use these ingredients, Jungkook? Won’t we get into trouble?” It’s not your kitchen after all — just a small space the resort was willing to let you use.   He merely shrugs. “We have to live a little.”   You sit on the other side of the island, watching him closely.    Jungkook finds a can of chicken stock and heats it over the stove in a small saucepan. Then he moves to chop shallots and mushrooms, sleeves pulled up to his elbows, forearms revealed as he works the knife in a constant motion that’s therapeutic to listen to. Jungkook fries the shallots and mushrooms over the hot oil and butter in a skillet, tossing and flipping them as they sizzle.   He works fluidly, in a rhythm without needing to stop and think twice. It’s fun to watch.   “What are you making?”   “Mushroom risotto.”   “Sounds fancy.”   “It is,” he lies.    In your ignorance, you’re unaware that it’s actually an easy recipe. You’re also oblivious to the fact that Jungkook is secretly beaming with gratitude that his dad taught him this recipe years ago. His dad was right that he needed to learn how to cook basic dishes to one day impress.   Jungkook adds the rice, coating it in the butter before adding a cup of white wine he found in the cupboards. Once it’s fully absorbed, he puts in the chicken stock and adds salt to taste. All the while, he’s watching you from the corner of his eye. He can read you like a book and your amazed expression feeds directly into his ego.   When Jungkook turns around to throw something in the sink, he lets his enormous smile slip.   “If we ever have the time, I’ll make you shrimp or chicken risotto.”   “You can make that?”   “Of course, cooking isn’t hard.”   “Pft. You really know how to do everything, don’t you, Jeon?”   “You said it, not me.”   He serves it on a big plate, even taking the extra step to clean the edges up with a napkin. You’re amazed and when he arrogantly urges you to take a bite, you can’t even tell him off. It’s delicious.   And once you say so, he can't deny how happy he is.   Jungkook is over the fucking moon. He would cook for you for the rest of his life if you’d let him.

[frywen-bumbles]

The Way to a Man's Heart Goes Through His... Cat? Ch2

Days 6-7: Jaskier gets some unexpected messages and looks after house plants

AO3

Master of Music.

Jaskier loves the sound of it.

What he doesn't love is the half-empty document staring at him from his laptop screen.

'Historical Facts, Recent Myths, Current Connections: The Witchers in Historical and Contemporary Music'

He has all of his research material on hand. He has read through it. Several times. But writing the actual research down isn't happening.

Gods above how much he wishes he could just compose new songs and throw his brain out of the window. He doesn't even believe in any gods but if praying will help writing to happen he's willing to try.

Roach sits on top of the bookshelf, in one of her favourite places to... stare at him. And judge. Or maybe Jaskier feels like the cat is judging him. She hasn't warmed up to him during the first week at all, all she does is stare at him whatever he does but doesn't let him close enough to touch yet alone to brush.

"You know, Roachie if you won't let me touch you soon your owner will have to shave you naked when he returns."

Roach doesn't answer.

Of course, she won't answer. He must be going bonkers. Maybe a walk will help. He doesn't hold high hopes, everything is going shite anyway, what good could one walk do?

He snaps a quick silly selfie of himself and Roach and sends it to Roach's owner, like every day. It doesn't take long for the mark to turn blue to note the message has been seen. No answer, but at this point, Jaskier is not surprised. There has been no answer in the previous days, why break the tradition now? Some people just aren't made for small talk and Jaskier isn't going to force it. Not that he'd want to see the man. No, that would be ridiculous.

He gets lost in his thoughts, trying to figure out how to put together his thesis in some sort of coherent way as he walks to the nearby park. His phone buzzes in his pocket for a new message. He digs it out, not giving it much thought expecting to see a message from Essi or Pricilla. What he sees makes him almost drop his phone in his shock.

Cat dad answered? And with a photo?

A honk makes him realise he's standing in the middle of the road like an idiot and he crosses to the other side to reach the park. Only it feels like he doesn't need to have a walk anymore, this is more excitement than he's had in the entire week.

He opens the message.

A selfie with a blonde girl and a man stare back at him. He feels like his heart will stop.

"Essi?" Jaskier has to talk to someone. He knows he shouldn't, he promised absolute confidentiality. But he will burst if he doesn't talk about this to someone. He will absolutely without a doubt die.

"What is it, Buttercup?" Essi drawls like she has all the time in the world.

"Cat dad it insanely hot!"

"Whaaat? He texted back?"

"Yes! He's off the wall hot? I can't deal with this! How am I supposed to just sit working on his desk knowing what the man looks like? He will haunt my dreams, Essi!"

"Well, spill the tea! What does he look like?"

"You know I can't tell you, just know he's the hottest dude I have ever seen, okay? I can't deal with this. How am I supposed to write academic bullshite when his picture sits on my phone and I could just... look at it whenever I want to?

"Jaskier, for fucks sake. Your thesis is already a year late. You have been promised a place in the doctoral programme. If you keep sitting on your arse with this, instead of being the brightest student at the Uni, you will fail, understand? Get your shite together and stop falling in love with every person you happen to see."

"But, Essiiii... He's really hot!"

"I know, darling. Just keep it in your pants until you've finished with your thesis. Then I give you my permission to go chase the hot cat daddy."

"Melitele forbid, Essi, you're no fun. I wasn't going to chase him! I don't even know where he is. I just can't get over the hotness, okay?"

"Mm hmm, I know you too well. Get back to work or do I need to remind you why you took up pet sitting?"

"No. I'm sorry. I'll take a small walk and then get right back to writing, I promise."

Jaskier does not get back to writing.

He stares at the picture in his phone trying to figure out how a gorgeous man like that could have such an impersonal home. The man has his hair tied back in a messy bun, revealing an undercut which tells the milky white locks are natural. Jaskier didn't know he had a thing for blonds, but he sure as hell does now.

The girl's young, maybe around ten years old, Jaskier isn't sure. Kids aren't exactly his forte, all of his friends are still firmly stuck in their studies instead of having families of their own.

The picture had been taken by the girl, the grin wide on her face suggesting taking it had been her idea. But the soft smile the man has as he looks at the girl is melting Jaskier's heart.

If only someone would look at him like that he could die happy.

A crash from upstairs startles him enough to put down his phone and look at the time. Jaskier tries and fails not to fall into despair. He has wasted another day, not a single word written and how he wishes he could just throw up all of his ideas into coherent text but it is not happening.

He closes his laptop. It's no use. Going like this he'll never graduate.

Roach stares at him from the door, covered in dust and... definitely more dust.

"I'm a mess, aren't I, Roachie?"

Roach doesn't answer. Instead, she screams and runs downstairs, expecting him to follow like a good servant. His phone buzzes for a new message and Jaskier taps it open.

<Water the plants. Remember to brush the cactus.>

Remember to what the what now? He stares at the message, trying (and failing) to ignore the image above it.

"What the fuck?" he mutters to himself as he makes his way downstairs to stare at the house plants he has given no thought at all up to this point. On the windowsill in the kitchen is a lone cactus, right next to where Roach likes to sit and look to the yard. A cactus completely covered in cat hair and Roach is happy to provide how that particular thing happened. She jumps next to the plant and rubs her head against it, leaving even more hair on the spines.

"Brush the cactus. Okay then..."

<How do I brush a cactus?>

<What the fuck Jask?>

Jaskier snaps a picture of the cactus and sends it to the group chat with Essi and Pricilla.

<How do I get rid of the hair???>

He gets no response. ... appears on the screen several times before crying laughing emojis fill the screen.

<Thanks a bunch -.- >

He goes to dig through the cabinet where he found cat things and discovers a comb.

"That'll have to do," he sighs and gets to combing the cactus, careful not to harm it. In the end, the cactus comes unharmed from the endeavour but unfortunately, Jaskier doesn't. His palm is adorned with spines he spends a good five minutes plucking out with tweezers.

<If i die bc of a cactus related infection I'm blaming you>

<omg what did you do>

<Squeezed a ball of hair in my hand but it was filled with spines from the cactus>

<lmao>

<lmao???? I'm suffering and you're laughing??? Essi, Pris is being horrible>

<it is only what you deserve>

<OMG rude!>

<kissy face emoji>

Jaskier looks up from his phone when he hears water splashing. He doesn't even want to know what toy the cat has decided to drown now but if he doesn't hurry the whole kitchen will be filled with water.

Roach is happily playing with a toy mouse dunking it in her water bowl and tossing it around, spreading water everywhere.

"Roach, please? Could you just... not do that?" Jaskier begs as he fishes the mouse out of the water bowl and puts it to dry in a cabinet. "This may come as a surprise to you but I do not enjoy mopping the floors after you." He complains as he dutifully takes kitchen towels and dries the kitchen. At least it's better than the time Roach tucked the entire kitchen rug in the water bowl while he was out.

"You are a menace," Jaskier tells Roach after he has cleaned up everything. Roach meows.

Jaskier feels like he has barely fallen asleep when he wakes up. At first, he doesn't understand what woke him, but another yowl has him wide awake. What has him jumping out of the bed and run is the sound of pumping, like someone was trying to unclog a toilet.

"Roach you bastard, where are you? Please don't throw up on a carpet!!" Jaskier tries to find the cat based on the noise, stumbling in the dark. To his horror, the noise is coming from the second floor, where he was absolutely forbidden to go.

"Roaaaaach...!" he whines and makes his way up the stairs.

The view that awaits him when he flips the light on is totally unexpected. It is so unexpected Jaskier has to pinch himself to believe he's actually standing in a real room.

It is, and really the only way to describe it is every little girl's dream room. The room spans the entire second floor, ceiling low on the sides showing it was renovated from an attic, pinks, purples and blues adorning the furnishing.

And right on the middle of the white rug is the vomit.

"Fuck."

Jaskier collects the rug and carries it in the bathroom and spends an ungodly amount of time washing it, hoping against all the odds, the stain would leave.

It doesn't.

Come morning and Jaskier is sure it's all been a weird dream. Unfortunately for him, the stained rug awaits him in the bathroom when he goes to brush his teeth and he groans in frustration.

Roach meows at the closed door and scratches it until he lets her in so she can stare at him. Jaskier sighs and snaps a quick selfie, hair mussed and toothbrush still in his mouth and sends it. No need to prolong it, now he can hopefully focus on writing.

He's drinking his third cup of tea when his phone buzzes for a new message.

<Roach's hair is as messy as yours>

Jaskier stares at the message, sent from an unknown number.

<Who is this?>

<Youre looking after daddys cat>

<You're the girl! From the picture!> <I'm Julian but you can call me Jaskier> <Wait you shouldn't text strange men does your dad know you've texted me?>

<You're not strange you just told me your name> <I'm bored daddy went out with grandpa and im left with uncle> <Hes no fun> <I'm Fiona>

<Hello Fiona, it's nice to meet you>

Jaskier doesn't know what else he's supposed to say. How does one talk with children? Just like normal people? Right?

Wait!

Jaskier comes to a sudden realisation; now he has the perfect opportunity to ask cheat codes for Roach to get the cat to, well maybe not like him but to tolerate him.

<How do I brush Roach? She doesn't let me near her>

The screen fills with laughing emojis earning a sigh from Jaskier. No help then.

<Give her cheese> <Shes crazy about it but only gets it after shes brushed>

Of course, why hasn't he thought to give the cat cheese? Maybe because it doesn't make any sense. Who gives cat cheese when there are perfectly good cat treats available?

Nothing else about this makes any sense either and since writing isn't happening nor is Fiona texting anything else he makes his way to the fridge and digs out a block of cheese and cuts a piece.

Roach runs at him screaming. She thrills and screams and rubs herself against the drawer where all of her brushes are.

Roach doesn't purr when he combs through her fur, but feeding her bits of cheese every time she gets too annoyed helps and like a miracle Jaskier manages to brush a cat-sized pile of loose fur to show for his efforts. He gives Roach the last piece when he has finished and tries to pet her, but she sprints away from him with an annoyed meow.

Maybe Roach doesn't hate him as much as he thought after all.

[ilguna]

Belamour - Epilogue (f.o)

summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.

warnings; swearing, death/murder mention.

wc; 10k

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

After you won the Hunger Games, you were fully convinced that you would never get a moment of silence ever again. Elysia didn’t tell you until after you’d arrived in District Four--back when you had just come home from the games--that you’d be busy for weeks after. Your life wouldn’t return back to normal immediately, it would be gradual.

On top of all the celebrations that you were required to attend, like the Banquet with all the expensive people in and outside of your district. In your opinion, that was probably the worst to attend, and it was only slightly better because Finnick was there to help you. Then there was a holiday where entertainers from the Capitol and food was provided for everyone. And finally, the first Parcel Day, where families would all receive their own package of food for bringing home a tribute. The best part? There’s one Parcel Day for every month.

Not to mention, you spent every waking moment with Finnick. If you weren’t with Finnick, you were with some Capitol reporters that came around regularly to check up on you and your family. For a while, it seemed like they weren’t going to leave at all, which started to get Reed irritated. 

He just wanted to have a get together with Caspian’s family to finally have a small celebration between you all, but it was practically impossible when you were constantly being hounded. Finnick felt the same way, it made him squirm but he never said anything that might turn the reporters away. Reed was a whole different story.

And even after his meltdown, they didn’t consider leaving you alone until some dumbass made the mistake of trying to surprise you from behind. In return for flipping the reporter onto their back and nearly killing them after, you were then signed up for the best therapist that Reed could find.

He says that it isn’t permanent, but you need to be going every week for a while. The Hunger Games did a number on you, and it was only obvious when you had literally treated the reporter like another tribute inside of the games. In the end, you bruised Mox’s rib and nearly broke Reed’s nose.

You felt horrible for a while after, but they weren’t mad at you. It’s not your fault, you didn’t ask for any of this, it just came along with the already-shitty package. You’re just lucky that the reporters weren’t allowed to say anything on it. Otherwise, the image that the Capitol constructed for you, would be completely ruined.

So, really, you spent about a month and a half after the games, celebrating and trying not to look too terribly bad in front of the reporters. It wasn’t at all glamorous, you woke up every morning feeling worse than the last. When everything cooled down, you told Reed, Mox and Finnick that you’d need a while to yourself before even considering being around others. 

Finnick felt the same. You guys spoke when you could, but the conversations weren’t very long. By the time you came around to each other again, you’d already been moved into Victor’s Village, right next to Mags. Finnick is placed next to Anchor. The houses are huge, with more bedrooms than you know what to do with. If you really wanted to, you could fit Naida’s entire family in here. And she has five kids, one girl and four boys.

The house would be an absolute disaster, of course. But you’d still be able to fit their entire family, and maybe even Finnick’s, if you’re squeezing. Finnick only has a younger brother, Orion. Since your winning of the games, you’ve got significantly closer with his family. A lot more than you had been originally.

You thought that you were close before, when he’d bring you cookies and walk you home from school in the rain. That was really nothing, compared to this. At least once a week, you two meet up to have lunch or dinner or something, just to keep you all close. And once every two to three weeks, your two families and Naida’s will meet up in your house to have dinner.

Fifteen people, all sat at one table. When it comes to cooking, practically everyone is working together. The younger kids are all playing together in one of the spare bedrooms, and even then, there’s still people left over, with no clue what to do. It tends to be you, Finnick and Alyssum that are left alone the most often. Either in your living room or out front. The house can be quite loud a lot of the time.

After the two of you won the games, it hasn’t been the exact same as it was before. You knew that there would be differences, you’d already seen it when you had gone home for the first time with your family. The way that the neighbors, the ones you’ve known for years, would shut their curtains and for good measure, their blinds too. It made for a lonely neighborhood. 

You can’t just ask them why they have the sudden change of heart, but you suppose you could guess. As if you’ve been repeating to yourself for months now, you’re the fifteen year old girl who won the Hunger Games with one fourteen year old boy. He was the youngest victor, together you found out that you’re the youngest pair to win together. You once lived in poverty, and now you’re practically royalty. 

People are just waiting for you to stop being humble, but it’s hard to forget your roots, especially when they’re deeply embedded. You remember the nights of eating dinner by the candlelight, and the cold winters and sweltering summers. You remember the stomach pains when you had to give up your dinner for Alyssum.

You wish you could tell all of them that you’re the same. You’ve always been the same person, and you don’t have the slightest intention of changing. Not as you get older, not as your money starts piling. You’re still the same girl who used to go to The Square for soaps and ugly dresses and beat down shoes when there was no other place to go.

Maybe it isn’t you who’s changed, it’s the people around you.

Sounds like something cheesy, straight out of some romance novel.

Well, back to what you were saying about being fully convinced that you’d never get a moment left to your thoughts ever again; there’s about to be a rinse and repeat. You’ve managed to survive a couple of normal months, and it’s just about to get hectic. The winter Victory Tour is here.

The Victory Tour happens six months after the end of the Hunger Games. So, not only do districts have time to mourn and heal from the wounds of their tributes being killed, they’re now forced to reopen those wounds. And you’re going to be required to rub it in their faces.

The only reason why the Victory Tour takes place so long after the actual games is because it’s a reminder that the districts can’t fully escape the games. Sure, your tributes might have been killed in the summer, but just because it’s winter, doesn’t mean you get to have a moment of peace. What kind of ridiculous thinking is that?

It just means you’re about to spend another couple of weeks away from home. About a day in every district, starting in District Twelve and ending in District Four, since you skip over your home district. So, it would technically go from Twelve, Eleven, Ten, etc all the way to Five, then it would be Three, the career districts, and then a celebration at home. Again.

Needless to say, you hope that you’ll never have to celebrate another thing ever again in your life after this. You’re tired of the big dinners and the pats on the backs. You just want everything to return back to normal.

“Think we should head back, yet?” Finnick asks, skipping another rock across the water. He’s knee-deep, pants rolled up to keep them from getting wet, but he doesn’t care anyway. You’ll be taking a shower when you get home.

“Probably.” you tell him, but neither of you move. Finnick rubs his thumb over a smooth gray stone, showing it to you.

You barely look over in time to catch that it’s the shape of a heart. Instead of doing something romantic, like handing it to you, Finnick straight throws it, not even trying to skip the rock. It soars through the air, going pretty far into the water. When it lands, it causes a minor splash. You’d say that’s swimming deep, you wouldn’t be able to stand up anymore.

“Can’t wait until this is all over.” you say.

“Tell me about it.” he skips another rock, it hits the surface once, twice, thrice, four times before it sinks, “I just keep thinking about how the other kids at school are reacting.”

“Reed was actually considering homeschooling me.” you tell him.

He pauses, looking over at you, “You can’t do that, then I’d be at the school by myself.”

You give him a small grin, “So? Won’t it be like before, when we didn’t really talk?”

“I hope not.” Finnick laughs, “We’re in it for life, we have to be. Plus, you live on the same street as I do, so there’s no avoiding me.”

“I can try.” you push yourself up from the rock beach, crossing your arms over your chest, “I think we’ll grow sick of each other eventually.”

“If they keep pushing us together, I do too.” Finnick holds out a rock for you. You take it, weighing it in your palm before skipping it. It dies after bouncing twice.

He throws his last rock, this one goes the farthest so far. When it sinks too, he brushes off his hands and turns around, getting out of the water. You pull your dirty tennis shoes on again. Finnick dries his feet with his towel, throws said towel over his shoulder, then slides his feet into his sandals. After that, you’re on your way back.

“At least we get to see our prep teams again, I missed them.”

“I didn’t.” Finnick makes a face, shaking his head, “Too touchy for my liking, even before we won.”

“Gross, wish I could give you mine instead.”

“No, you don’t.” Finnick makes a face, and then the two of you laugh.

The walk to Victor’s Village is far, since you and Finnick purposely tried to find a spot that would be hard to find, if anyone came looking. You don’t think anyone has, but then again, you won’t know until you get back to the houses. You and Finnick fill the silence by talking about what you think will actually happen when school gets started up again. You guess sashays to wear, and finnick bets on crowns.

And sure enough, when you get back to the village, you’re able to see the cars parked on the cobblestone pathways. There’s cameras being set up outside, and two separate nervous parents waiting. For Finnick, this would be his mother, Laoise, who comes rushing down the steps immediately.

“Where have the two of you been?” she asks, then doesn’t wait for an answer as she starts yanking Finnick towards his house. 

You wave him goodbye before heading towards your parent, Reed. He’s not upset, as far as you can tell. You head inside with him to see that your prep team definitely is. Cleo lets out the biggest whine you’ve heard come from her, and Leo sighs loudly to let you know that he isn’t happy. Beth, on the other hand, starts towards your bathroom to get a shower started.

You’re not allowed a single conversation with Anchor, or Elysia who seems to be bouncing back and forth between houses. You’re drowned in water, hair washed swiftly just to make it shiny and clean-looking again. You smell like fruit and flowers at the end of the shower, being swept right into your bedroom after.

This is when they start to work like they did beforehand. Cleo gets to work on your nails, Leo heads right in with fixing your eyebrows and plucking every little hair, washing your face down, and starting over to make sure you’re to his liking. While Beth, as usual, takes her time with drying and styling your hair to make sure that it looks good enough. Out of the three of them, she’s luckiest since her job isn’t that hard.

Cleo’s going on about how the entire Capitol is excited to see you again. This is when you remember that you’ll be visiting the Capitol again. You bite your tongue, since you’re not excited. You wonder if this means you’ll be onsaughted by reporters again, going back to weeks of non-normalcy.

“Laurel doesn’t want to see you until you’re fully dressed.” Cleo says, raising from the floor, “I’ll grab your clothes.”

She leaves the room, Leo and Beth pack up their things, “You’ll be wearing warm clothes tonight. I wouldn’t get used to it if I were you. You’ll be in dresses for the entire tour.” Leo says.

“Great.” you give him a smile, “Thank you, both.”

Cleo comes back in a moment later, and has you getting dressed immediately. Obviously they’re going for cool tones, because they place you in thick white pants and a long-sleeved, light blue shirt. After that is the jacket, the second that it’s zipped up, you can feel yourself start to sweat. It’s safe to say that you won’t be feeling the cold outside. They place you in warm shoes too, and you’re forced to stand still while they readjust.

In the end, they take the jacket off and tell you that you’ll be wearing it later. For now, you can go ahead and see everyone else downstairs. You take your time going down the steps, not really in a hurry. There’s no way you guys are going to be on time as much as you had wanted to earlier.

“There she is!” Anchor stands in your hallway, motioning to you.

Laurel comes out of your living room, looking over you from head to toe, “Where’s the jacket?”

“With Cleo, she said I could wear it later.” you say, “How do I look?”

“Like how you should.” she says, and then moves on. If you could take a guess, you think she’s annoyed that you did make them behind schedule. Finnick’s probably receiving the same cold treatment that you are.

Elysia comes in through the door, holding it wide open. Behind her is the camera crew, who come in and make themselves comfortable in the living room. Soon, the downstairs manages to crowd. The camera crew, Elysia, the prep team, your siblings, Anchor and Laurel. With the amount of people in the house, the volume starts to increase. 

You reach for your pinky to find that the ring is missing. In the middle of instructions from Anchor, you turn without a single word and head up the staircase. If you’re going to do this, you’re going to need the ring. If Anchor is bothered, he doesn’t say anything, he just lets you go.

In your room, you shut the door to muffle the sound and get some privacy. If you heard Elysia correctly, you should have five minutes or so before you present your hobby to the camera crew, which they’ll be editing and showing the public later. When it came to picking one out, you and Finnick were pretty stumped.

The choices were obvious, you were going to rock, paper, scissors to see who would get fishing or knots, when Mags came through with some ideas. Most of them were stupid, Finnick can’t play a guitar and you’ve never really liked gardening. Then Anchor suggested a two part skill, photography and modeling.

You wanted to shut down the idea, especially when Finnick was all for taking the pictures. If you have professional pictures of yourself, people are going to think you’re vain. So, Finnick switched the roles and decided that he could be the model and you could be the photographer. 

It took some practice, the first couple of pictures that you’d taken with the Capitol-bought camera were horrible. But as time went on over the few months, you managed to get a hang of it. And Finnick decided that he liked to model a lot more than he thought he did. And just like that, the problem was solved.

While Finnick’s living room is covered in pictures of himself that you took in various places, your living room has cameras and a few scenery and portrait pictures to show. Needless to say, this is another example of how you and Finnick have been complimenting each other since the beginning. 

You find your ring where Beth had placed it to get it out of the way during the bath. You pick it up and slip it on. By the time you get downstairs, they’re ready for you to start talking about yourself and not shut up until you’ve covered everything. After, you’ll narrate from notecards that Elysia wrote for you.

You think Anchor might’ve told Reed and Mox that you were overwhelmed or something, because it’s clear there’s been a change. Elysia is gone completely, Laurel and the prep team stand in the dining room, away from where you are. The camera crew inside of the living room is spread out enough to give you breathing room. The only people standing close are your brothers.

Just before you’re on camera, you stand taller and give a smile. Once they give you the cue, you go ahead and start explaining your hobby. The cameras, the pictures, how Finnick is your partner in crime with this. You make sure to explain what you do exactly with the pictures. When you’re done, you read the notecards as peppy as you can, then they push you out so they can get the living room by itself.

Reed and Mox aren’t excluded from the event, they’re actually pulled on camera together, which leaves you to hold onto Alyssum for the time being. You expected her to be pretty alert, but in the end, she lays her head on your shoulder while you sway. As soon as they’re done, things start moving quickly.

You hand Alyssum over, and Anchor comes back around with instructions. Laurel pulls the jacket onto you, which has you feeling like a furnace again, but you don’t complain. You nod and him and try to pay attention the best you can. All you seem to remember now is that you need to look as excited as possible when seeing Finnick.

Elysia then stops you in front of the door, tells you to be careful, and then opens the door. You step out, ignoring the sound of the door shutting behind you when you go down the steps. A smile spreads over your face at the sight of Finnick, who looks just as ridiculous as you feel because of how bundled you are. Especially since he was wearing shorts in freezing cold water just a couple of hours ago.

“Finnick!” you shout, opening your arms up wide.

Finnick hugs you tightly, pulling you flush against his chest. He presses a warm kiss against your cold cheeks and laughs, “Missed me that much?”

“Of course!” you laugh too.

Everything you’d been building up to today, is over just like that. It was only to get an outside shot of you and Finnick greeting each other for the first time during the Victory Tour.

The goodbyes to your family and friends takes place outside. Finnick says goodbye to his parents and his brother, Orion. You say goodbye to your brothers, sister and Naida’s family, since they wanted to see you one last time before you go. Everyone from the Capitol piles into their cars, the Capitol people take off first. You, Finnick, Elysia and your mentors get into the last car. You wave goodbye to your brothers before you go.

At the train station, you wave goodbye and board the train. Elysia doesn’t stop the grind there, as she gets you guys into the dining room to have supper. The prep team doesn’t join you guys when you eat. You and Finnick have to take it easy, since the food is so unbearably rich. Even with you trying to make sure that you don’t eat too much, you still manage to feel pretty nauseous after.

After that, you’re left to your own devices. Laurel and Pleurisy disappear, Elysia says to be ready to get up early tomorrow, and your mentors head straight to bed. It leaves just you and Finnick as always. For a while, you two just stare at each other as if you don’t have a clue on what to say.

Then, Finnick gives a smile, “Sleepover?”

You grin, “Oh, hell yeah. I’ll just take a shower first.”

“Meet you there, then.” Finnick says.

You two split, with Finnick going to his own room. In yours, you go ahead and pick out your pajamas, and then shut the door to the bathroom to make sure that Finnick won’t accidentally walk in on anything. With the ring in a safe place, you step into the shower to wash off all of the prep team’s work. Once the water starts running clear again, you step out.

Finnick’s got his spot next to the wall all sorted out. He’s got a blanket laid out, a pillow and then a second bigger blanket to actually use. Obviously he banked on your shower idea, because his hair is wet too. You slip the ring into the bowl at your bedside and then fall back onto your bed.

“Tired?” Finnick jokes.

“Compared to you, yeah.” you look at him, “They’ve got to do a lot more with me than you. You heard Elysia, you get to sleep in.”

Finnick scoffs, “You think I sleep?” he tries to keep a straight face after, but it doesn’t work. The two of you crack up.

“Anyway, I’m going to bed.” you tell him.

“Sounds good to me.” Finnick says, settling in next to the wall.

The two of you lay in silence for a while. Despite feeling completely exhausted, you can’t bring yourself to fall asleep. You curl yourself up, rock yourself, spread out, roll over but there’s nothing that works. Finnick falls asleep faster than you do, you can hear his heavy breathing.

You eventually settle for staring at the ceiling, feeling a sense of deja vu. It’s exactly like how you’d tried to fall asleep the night before you got home. Only then, you were nervous and excited and now you’re just… upset? You just want to be back to normal. You get that you’ll be mentoring again in the spring/summer, but for now, you should be able to relax.

You think you fall asleep sometime in the middle of the night. You wake up to Elysia rocking you and telling you it’s time to get started. She helps you get dressed into something comfortable, and you decide to leave your ring on the bedside table. When you leave the bedroom, Finnick is still sleeping comfortably next to the wall.

He won’t have to get up for a couple of hours. He’s only got so much that needs to be done, while you on the other hand have to go through everything the Capitol did initially. Your skin is going to be sore for the first time in a long time. You were just getting used to finally looking like the other girls in your grade, too.

Your prep team is already in the dining car when you get there. You assume your regular spot and watch as the team slowly comes to life. It’s obvious that they never have to get up this early, ever. You watch as they drink cup after cup of coffee, and then popping brightly colored pills into their mouths as they go.

Cleo does the most out of all of them, which solves the mystery as to why she’s so energetic. In no time, she’s looking awake and chatting with Leo animatedly. You eat quietly and try not to engage in conversation with them just yet. You wonder how they’re going to rebuild you if Finnick’s sleeping in your room.

You finish your breakfast, and figure that if you’re going to wake up Finnick in the process, you might as well bring him something as a gift. With the help of Elysia, you pack a plate full of foods that he enjoys. Cleo and Leo try not to be loud--Beth isn’t ever a problem--but they end up waking Finnick anyway.

“Here.” you set the tray onto the floor, “I’ve got to get started.”

He’s tired, but at least there’s no bags beneath his eyes, “Have fun.”

“Thanks.”

Beth shuts the door the most of the way, and then they all turn on you like a pack of wild dogs. You’re stripped for the most part, and they start with waxing your legs. Finnick occasionally talks to you on the other side of the door, enjoying his breakfast. By the time you’re being bathed the second time, Elysia comes around to collect Finnick.

They’re all unusually quiet during this, even Cleo. You guess that the coffee and weird pills didn’t do their job good enough. They shower you one last time, try your skin and then lather you in the healing lotion. Immediately, you begin to feel better. You thank them for their efforts, get dressed and meet everyone else in the dining car again. It’s lunch time.

Elysia lays out the plan for you guys during this time. For the Victory Tour, you’ll be starting in District Twelve, which is another day’s train ride from here. By tomorrow afternoon, you should be there. She outlines the protocols and tells you what you should expect from the district, there’s not a single nice thing she says after that.

“It’s not all that bad.” Anchor says, he’s finished with his lunch already, just occupying a spot to keep you all company, “They’re going to be upset like they are every year.”

You share a look with Finnick, though. As much as Anchor and Mags can try and comfort you two, you think they’ve forgotten who the two tributes died to. You killed the boy, drowned him unfairly in water he doesn’t know how to swim in. And Finnick killed the girl a couple days later. You don’t know if you can even consider that self-defense.

In fact, the more you think about it, the more you begin to realize that every stop you’ll be making over the course of the next few weeks will be completely miserable. You and Finnick got an even split of murders, both of you have six, which in total makes twelve. Almost every stop will have one tribute you killed.

Anchor says that the districts are going to be upset, but that’s such an understatement. They’re going to be pissed, the only one that might be a warm welcome is going to be District Three, because of Verda and Blaire. Otherwise, you’re absolutely hated.

Finnick recognizes this too, his face is twisted, the two of you stare at each other for a moment. You wonder who’s going to be the one to point this fact out, but neither of you speak. You just let the topic drop, he goes back to picking at his sweet roll.

“Alright well, I’m going to take a nap. Wake me when it’s supper.” you say.

A few of them bid you a goodbye, you drag your feet all the way to your room. Really, you’re not all that tired, you just don’t want to hear Elysia call another district dirty and ungrateful again. In your room, Finnick’s belongings are gone, so there’s no chance that you’ll be interrupted.

Instead of laying down, you find yourself heading towards the chair that you’d first occupied on your way to the Capitol during the summer. You sit in it, sinking into the plush cushion, and stare into the room. It’s a moment before you remember that magazine from your first time around.

You open up the nightstand drawer and find that there’s a new issue. And right on the front is a picture of you and Finnick that you took for the victory tour. 

Inside is probably your worst nightmare. There’s information about yourself, all spilled out onto the page. Your birthday, your age, stuff about your family, how both of your parents died… it just keeps going.

Finnick’s page isn’t nearly as bad as yours. In fact, when you read over it, you’re sure that the Capitol publishers purposely did this. When you begin to feel sick, you rip it into shreds and throw it into the bathroom garbage can so that you don’t have to see it. 

This is when you decide that it’s a good time to fall through on taking the nap. You pull the blanket above your head to shield yourself from the light. It takes some time, you still toss and turn but sticking to the idea works. The next time you wake up is to Elysia at the door, telling you that supper is ready.

Even after catching a look at yourself in the mirror, you decide that you could care less. You’re going right back to bed after this, you’re fucking exhausted. Everyone is sitting at the table when you get out there, and spirits seem to be pretty high. The prep teams carry most of the conversation.

You pick at your food in the beginning, not entirely hungry since you just woke up. You squint, each as much as you can, and sit at the table until you decide that it’s an appropriate time to get up and leave. You and Finnick are reminded that you’ll be up early tomorrow by Elysia. After that, you’re free to go.

Finnick stays at the table, but you go ahead and leave. You change into proper pajamas and roll over. You don’t fall asleep as quickly as you had hoped. In fact, you’re stuck thinking about the families of the kids that you had killed in the arena.

District Twelve, Tassel and Fodille. Tassel being the thirteen year-old boy that you had killed, and Fodille being the twelve year-old girl that Finnick had killed. You could try to play it off as self defense with Tassel, but you knew exactly what you were doing when you turned your back to him. It was bait, you wanted him to step out so that you could kill him. And it worked, you just didn’t expect him to jump on your back like that.

As for Finnick, you can’t imagine what he’d done to get Fodille to go after him. Or maybe he just came across her and decided that he might as well kill her.

Either way, in the end, you wake up screaming. For a good second, while you stare off into the pitch black room, you’re sure that you’ve died. But the moment you take in a deep breath from your nose, you’re reminded that even that would be a dream. Your throat is sore, your cheeks are soaked. You reach for a pillow and bury your face in it, sobbing, wondering how long you’ll have to suffer like this.

You’re so fucking tired. You miss the period of time when you didn’t have nightmares or worried about people approaching you from certain angles because you might accidentally kill them in a fit of blind arena flashbacks. 

You scream into the pillow, and then throw it across the room. You watch as it hits the only glass frame in the room, knocking it off the wall. You get up from the bed, take your ring from the bowl and go to the bathroom. You don’t bother to turn on the light, but you hesitate putting water on your face.

It wouldn’t be a bright idea, especially not after the nightmare, but you do it anyway, multiple times. Even after the cold water, you still feel stuffy, so you go to leave the bedroom. Just as you step on the carpet near the door, a searing hot pain goes right through your foot.

You stifle a scream, gritting your teeth as tears reappear in your eyes. Your hand falls against the wall, holding all of your bodyweight, while the other cradles your foot. Even in the darkness, you can see the dark liquid coming from your foot. You struggle to find the lightswitch, and find yourself blinded in yellow light when you turn it on.

It takes a while of blinking for you to be able to see, and when you do, you’re not surprised. The frame had shattered, giant glass and small glass shards are all over the carpet. In your foot is a pretty big one, around it are much smaller pieces. Blood comes out of every one of them, staining the white carpet red.

Now is the time to start looking for the help call button. You go over the one panel near the door, squinting and rubbing your eyes. The pain in your foot is distracting, the light is hard to see through. You end up pressing the red one and hope that it works.

It does, it’s only a matter of seconds before the door is opening and you’re met with multiple Capitol attendants at the door. They take in the scene, the glass, your foot, the disorientation in your face. And without a single word, two of them help you so that you don’t have to walk on the foot, another goes to clean up the mess.

They take you into the main room and sit you on a chair, “Would you like for us to wake Elysia or one of the mentors?”

You shake your head, eyes trained on the first aid. You’re pretty sure that you’re going to need stitches, “No, can you just tell Elysia when she gets up?”

They agree, bring around the medical expert. They sit in a chair opposite to you, prop your foot onto their thigh and gently get to work. They pull out each individual shard, starting with the smallest, and working their way up to the bigger ones. You close your eyes and dig your nails into your hands when they start pulling out the worst one. You try not to move much but you still end up curling your foot.

You were right about the stitches, the person numbs your foot first and then works on the needle. Since you can’t feel it, it’s easier to watch them go through it. You bleed a lot, and even with the stitches, they wrap a bandage around your foot and have to half-carry you back to your room.

In the hallway is Finnick, he’s shirtless and has got his arms crossed over his chest. He looks over you, the two Capitol attendants, and then down at your foot. The serious expression on his face drops, as well as his arms, “What happened?”

“Broke a frame and stepped on glass, had to get stitches. I’ll be fine, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“She can stay in my room.” Finnick insists, holding his arms out for you.

You don’t argue, letting him hold onto you, “Thank you, can you tell Elysia that I’ll be in his room, too?”

“Yes, of course. Call if you have any more problems.” they say.

Finnick brings you into his room, which is almost a mirror of yours. His bed is unkempt, he was obviously sleeping. You wonder if it was your screaming and sobbing that woke him up, or the Capitol people helping you that did it. Either way, he shuts the door and helps you to his bed.

“I can sleep on the floor.” you tell him.

“There’s a hammock.” Finnick says, motioning to the corner.

Your eyes follow, and you find that he’s not lying. A white-roped hammock hangs in the corner of the room. He throws in a pillow, lays a blanket down as a base and then helps you into it. It’s a lot more comfortable than you thought it would be, and you laugh when he throws another, softer blanket on top of you.

Before he goes to lay back down, for the first time in months, he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, “I’m right here if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, thank you.” 

He lays down in the bed, back turned to you, blanket pulled over his shoulder. You lay your head against the pillow and stare at the ceiling of his room. Your foot throbs painfully. Even with how he set you up comfortably, you don’t fall asleep. You go over the different scenarios in which everyone will have to work around your hurt foot.

During your daydreaming, you manage to doze off. Before you know it, Finnick is shaking you awake, telling you that you two should eat lunch real quick before you get ready for District Twelve. It’s the afternoon, they’ve let you sleep in considerably. Finnick helps you out of the hammock and lets you lean on him while the two of you make your way to the dining car.

Everyone is at the table already, dressed and ready for what Twelve will have to offer. Before you can even get halfway into the room, all eyes are on you and Finnick. Suddenly, the topic is on your hurt foot.

“Let’s see it.” Laurel says, motioning for you to head towards her.

Finnick helps, you lean against the table with one hand so Finnick can go and sit down and start eating. You watch as Laurel unravels the bandage to take in the damage.

“Well, I’ll certainly say that I’m surprised.” Elysia says, sitting up a bit on her chair to see over the table.

“What happened, again?” Anchor asks, looking right at you.

“I uh--” you make a face, “The Capitol attendant didn’t tell you?”

“They didn’t tell us much of anything.” Cleo says, sipping on her coffee, “Did you get any sleep last night.”

Leo huffs, “That’s going to be hard to cover up.

“Well, what happened?” Laurel presses, looking at you now. If she thinks that your foot looks bad, she doesn’t say anything. 

“A glass picture frame broke by the door last night.” you decide that you’ll keep the fact that you broke it, to yourself.

“How?” Cleo asks.

You open your mouth, going to come up with some bullshit excuse, but Elysia has her own reason.

“I bet it was how hard the train braked last night during the refuel. Did any of you feel it?”

“I did.” Cleo and Leo say at the same time.

“Makes sense.” Pleurisy says, “They should’ve nailed it onto the wall better. What’re you thinking, Laurel?”

“She’s going to have to use numbing cream and wear flats for the rest of the trip.” Laurel turns to an attendant, “Can you clean and rebandage her foot?”

You get a new place to sit, away from the table, while your foot is reprepared. At least you’ve gotten yourself out of wearing heels, but you can’t imagine that the pain in your foot is nearly worth it. Plus, you’ll still be walking funky, so there’s no doubt that someone is going to point it out.

You have to eat quickly because you’re behind schedule. This time, you manage to feel just fine, which means that you won’t have to take a ten minute breather to make sure that you won’t puke. Cleo, Beth and Leo work together to make you look nice. They pull your hair down, making it look nice with as many products as possible.

Laurel comes around with your clothes. Since it’s snowing in District Twelve, you put on a dark purple jacket, black pants, snow boots and a hat to keep your ears warm. You think it’s overkill until you finally look outside. Even Finnick is dressed up to be warm, and he hardly ever gets cold.

The train gets dark for a long moment as you pass through a tunnel. When light comes back, you can see that District Twelve has tall walls. As soon as you can see into the district, the first word that comes to mind is ‘gloomy’. You immediately feel bad for the people because they have to stand outside while you receive plaques for murdering their tributes.

You and Finnick are brought into the main room, you’re on more of a time crunch than you had originally thought. Laurel applies the finishing touches here, fixing stray hairs and helping you walk in the boots with your hurt foot. Right as you pull into the train station, Elysia tells you that there won’t be a ride through the city, so there’s nothing to worry about there. But there are cameras at the station, waiting to see you two.

And just like that, the doors open and you’re exposed to said cameras. You hold onto Finnick’s arm tightly, trying not to make your limp super noticeable. Even with the numbing cream, you can feel the stitches oddly move. You’re really afraid of accidentally tearing them.

You’re directed into a car by a couple of peacekeepers. Making sure to thank them, you head inside first, Mags follows, then it’s Finnick, Anchor and Elysia. On the way to the Justice Building, Elysia gives you the cards to read off of, just in case you forget some lines.

From the car, you’re inside of the main building. You hardly get a few steps inside when you can smell a particular scent that must be exclusive to their district. As well as see all the dust that has collected onto tabletops they have not used in months. You can at least smell something cooking.

There’s a few seconds before you have to go outside and face the families of Tassel and Fodille. It really hits you now, you take deep breaths and try to ease the panic attack that’s rising. But it’s coming, and you don’t know how to stop it. With the anthem already playing, you’re fucked.

“(Y/n), breathe.” Finnick says, making you face him, “Tell me one thing you smell.”

“The dinner.”

“Two things you feel.” he says.

“You touching me and the stitches.” you take a deep breath.

“Three things you hear.”

“Your voice, the anthem and my heartbeat.” it’s loud in your ears, almost louder than the anthem that’s playing outside.

“Your heartbeat is constant, it’s not going away.” Finnick says, “Focus on it, okay?”

You nod, sniffing. He gives you a small smile. Microphones are clipped to your bodies so that you’ll be heard. Finnick offers his arm and you wrap your hands around it, just like how you did on the chariot ride. The mayor of District Twelve is introducing you when the doors open.

“You’ve got this.” Elysia urges.

You two move forward, the applause from Twelve feels apprehensive. You walk together, you rely on Finnick to find the right spot on where to stop. He does, and you’re finally able to take in what the district looks like. You were right about the gloomy idea, because this does not nearly radiate the same energy that District Four does.

The space in front of the Justice Building is packed with people, all who don’t look thrilled that they have to entertain you two. There’s been two stages that have been constructed for the families of Tassel and Fodille. You don’t want to look. You have to.

Tassel’s parents are pretty young, but they don’t have any other kids, Tassel was their only child. His parents are straight-faced and angry, no doubt at you. Fodille’s family isn’t much better, she only has a younger sister that has to be half the age that Fodille was… so many six, seven?

The clapping dissolves, the mayor has to give a speech in your honor. You hate standing here and awkwardly staring into their district like this. You killed Tassel, you killed their only son. There’s a number of circumstances that go through your mind, none of which you like.

Two girls hand off large bouquets of flowers to you and Finnick. You make sure to thank them, and then Finnick is reciting the customary reply. It’s nothing interesting, just a thank you. You say your part next, which is practically a repeat of what he just did.

The last part is up to you and Finnick, since it’s your personal comments. It might have been approved by Elysia, Anchor and Mags, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t any less specially structured for their tributes. Unfortunately for you, you and Finnick came to the agreement that you two would switch on and off for who starts first and who goes second.

You clear your throat slightly, staring at Tassel’s family, because everything that you had written down, doesn’t come to mind. You open your mouth, draw your eyebrows in and breathe out. 

You can’t say anything staring at them like this. You close your eyes, and find it much easier this way, “Last night I dreamt that I had been perched in bushes by a pond, watching as two older tributes came around to gather water. I barely moved, but made noise nonetheless. The boy came to investigate, thought that he’d heard something but turned his back to me. I thought it was the perfect opportunity.

“I jumped onto his back, arms and legs wrapped around him and thought victory was mine because I had the high ground. How would he get away from this? He couldn’t possibly. When he reached for his sword, I pulled his hair and went to go choke him. I didn’t take into consideration how clever the boy was, as he fell backwards into the pond on purpose.

“I wasn’t worried for a second.” you breathe out all the air you’re holding, “But I panicked when the water washed over me, when I realized that I didn’t know how to swim and I couldn’t hold my breath for long. I panicked when the boy held me in place to make sure that I would die. I wanted to cry when I thought about how I would be breathing in water in no time.

“It was worse when he wouldn’t let me go, no matter how desperate I was. I thought it was unfair, how he could be so big and so much stronger than me. It was an unfair advantage that I hadn’t taken into consideration. When I opened my mouth to breathe, unable to hold my breath any longer, I inhaled water. The boy let me go, and left me in the darkness of that pond, to sink to the bottom and drown.”

You open your eyes, looking at Tassel’s family, “I died in the dark, cold and in pain, worried about how my family would be able to pay for funeral expenses.” you shake your head, “I have been waking up to this nightmare for weeks. Since the end of the games, I have not slept soundly since. Your son’s face haunts me, and I know that means nothing to you, and I’m sorry. It’s not a proud moment of mine, his face never escapes me in my happiest moments.”

It’s done it, his mother is crying, burying her face into her husband’s shoulder. His father nods once at you, but you don’t think that’s good enough. You could give this speech a hundred times to them, apologize over and over, but it will never compare to what it feels like to lose family. Especially not a son that they had raised.

Finnick gives his rehearsed speech to Fodille’s family, which turns out to be just as emotional. You two are given big plaques to accompany your bouquets. You listen to the clapping of the district, which somehow sounds louder than the first time around. The mayor wraps up your appearance, and then you’re brought back into the Justice Building, where everyone is waiting.

Elysia praises you guys, hardly making a comment on how you went off-script. Anchor gives you an approving nod, and suddenly you’re being readied for the dinner. You get washed completely so that you’re a blank canvas, and the prep teams work back up from there. Cleo and Leo are excited to be attending tonight’s dinner, and all the future ones too. You don’t see the big fuss.

They keep with the purple theme. They place you in a dress that reaches your calves, and a pair of black flats with white socks after more numbing cream is applied. Laurel comes around for finishing touches, which is when she pulls a black cardigan over your shoulders to keep you extra warm. You thank her.

“Try not to play with the ring too much, okay?” Laurel says, standing you in front of the mirror so that you can see yourself. You’ve begun to get used to the fact that you’re pretty unrecognizable after every makeover, “The Capitol is starting to take notice.”

“Okay.” your hands drop, you smooth out the dress, “Are we ready to go?”

“Yeah, make sure to smile.” she says.

The prep teams head out first, Elysia counts every step, and warns you guys to count too. Next is Laurel and Pleurisy, who look good naturally and have big smiles on their faces. Anchor has Mags hold onto him so that she’s able to move quicker and so that they don’t fall behind.

“How are you feeling?” Finnick asks.

“Tired, what about you?”

“Hungry.” he says, and the two of you grin.

You start walking.

It’s a rinse and repeat for every district. Your speeches start to blur, as does the faces. District Eight is hard for Finnick because both of the tributes died to him, that night he wakes up sobbing. You hold your breath and the next time you’re fully able to breathe is District Three, where Verda and Blaire’s families are more than forgiving. You can’t thank Blaire’s family enough, when you leave, you think that you’ve finally come to peace with Blaire’s sacrifice.

After your visit in District Two--which had ended badly, the word ‘traitor’ is what you’re labeled as there--Finnick comes up with the idea of making your own training facilities. 

“What the hell do you mean?” you ask, looking at Finnick. He’s sitting on his bed, sprawled out and staring at the ceiling. You’re in his hammock.

Finnick sits up, “Think about it, we get a building, invest our own money into it. We get families in on it, advertise it quietly, start training kids to be prepared. If we can win at fourteen and fifteen, other kids can win at fourteen and fifteen, maybe even younger!”

“They just need an opportunity.” you say, he nods, a grin is spreading over his face. “We’ve got a problem though, your mom is going to say no, and my brothers would never approve of it.”

“I’ve got a solution to that too. What if we ask Anchor and Mags to put their names down? But only us and Anchor train the tributes, since we’re the youngest.”

You smile a bit, “You better be the one to suggest it to them.”

“Okay!” he agrees, getting up from the bed, “Let’s go now, then.”

Mags and Anchor approve the idea almost immediately, and for the rest of the night, you’re subjected to laying out the plans with them. Mags has got years worth of money built up, and decides that she’ll take on the bulk of the expenses. Anchor agrees to be a trainer, as do you and Finnick, on top of being mentors. 

“You know this means you won’t be home often, right?” Anchor says.

“At least we’ll be in the same district.” you tell him.

Conversation keeps moving. You point out that there’s an expensive building on the rich side of District Four. It’s big, and you think it served as some sort of hotel or warehouse. It’s going to need repairs, but you write the address down anyway and hand it off to Mags.

Finnick says that you two will start advertising it as soon as you get back home, there’s no doubt that there’s going to be some takers. No one wants their kids to die in the games, and if they’ve been preparing for years, their odds increase. By the time you reach District One, you’re feeling better about everything, and take District One with a brave smile.

The Capitol is the same way. You and Finnick stay in the Tribute Center, on your regular floor. The following night, you’re brought to the stage with Caesar to be questioned on how you and Finnick were feeling during the tour. He keeps it going smoothly, there’s not a moment you feel uncomfortable.

“And finally, what are your plans for the future?” he asks, sitting back in his chair, “Two young mentors, next summer will be your first time with tributes. What are your thoughts?”

“Our plans are secret.” you say outright, which has Finnick smirking. 

The audience likes this, all on the edge of their seat. No matter how hard Caesar prys, neither you or Finnick say anything. To admit the idea of illegally training tributes could mean big trouble for District Four. 

“You have to give me something.” Caesar says, “To give us something.”

Finnick gives him a fun smile, “Let’s just say that District Four just inherited the best mentors they could ask for.”

The interview ends, you and Finnick are brought to a large banquet. There’s music, soft chairs, tables with more food than you could ever imagine. The floors are polished, the ceiling is dark. You and Finnick are on camera the entire time, so you have to work together if you want to do anything. You two find your spot at the dessert table, and continue to sample the cakes, cookies, cupcakes, puddings, among other things. Finnick and you bet on who will get sick first, and you end up losing.

Eventually it gets out that you’re stationed at the dessert table, because people start coming around. You take pictures, and exchange names and conversation. You try to be polite and friendly, you’re just glad that they move on relatively quickly to allow others get their say.

Finnick enjoys his second slice of raspberry cheesecake, you get a cold bowl of ice cream and find a new spot to stand. You silently wish they served dishes like this back home. You wonder if someone has a cookbook, you’ll start cooking like this if you can. You’ve got the money for the ingredients, you just need the recipe.

Anchor and Mags come around to check on you and Finnick, and then suggest that you get real food into you besides all the sweets. They warn you to stay away from the drinks that’ll make you puke up your food, and wish you good luck on your next round of fans. You and Finnick go to a table with soups that warm the throat and make you feel hungrier than you were before.

When the music picks up to something more upbeat, you decide that it won’t hurt to dance once. You try to follow what Elysia had taught you two, but give up halfway through and decide for a more traditional dance from Four. It works, you and Finnick have more fun than you were before.

“Had you come up with that idea earlier into the victory tour, I can’t imagine how giddy we would have been throughout the whole tour.” you say, letting Finnick spin you.

“It would have been criminal.” he laughs, you join, “District One seemed like a pretty bad place to begin with.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” you agree. Considering that Trink and Lennox were the last two tributes that could have won. Their families weren’t very thrilled to see you two, either.

At this point, you don’t really care. How are they going to significantly affect you? Do they think them glaring at you is really going to do anything? The only time you’re afraid of Lennox in your nightmares is when he’s choking and beating you to death. If you could go back and do it all again, you’d kill Allio in his sleep and move on with your life.

He was stupid and egotistical. It’s his own fault that you’re alive and he isn’t. The Hunger Games is a fight to the death, a survival of the fittest. It’s an embarrassment to him that he had trained for years and still wasn’t fit enough to win. Him, seventeen, you, fifteen.

After dancing, you and Finnick take a break and wait for Elysia to come around. She picks you two up around midnight, the two of you go around and say your goodbyes and collect the prep teams, stylists and mentors. After that, you all get into separate cars to get back onto the train on time.

The prep teams are drunk and go to bed immediately. The rest of you stand around for a little while, talking about how tomorrow will go. Just before you go to bed, Elysia presents you with a recipe book straight from the kitchen. You thank her, bid everyone goodnight, but find yourself with Finnick in your room, going over what you’ll be making.

In the morning, you’re prepared for cameras again. You make sure to give a big smile and wave when you see Four again, glad to be home. Unfortunately, you’re not allowed to see your family until dinner. Everyone is brought to Mayor Burrula’s house to get ready for tonight’s celebration.

You’ve never been inside of his house before, but it’s huge. Three floors, the third is where you’re brought. You’re prepared, just like you’ve been for every evening for the past couple of weeks. You’re dressed in a knee-length, navy blue and silver dress. You’re still not allowed heels, so Laurel settles for leather sandals and begs you to not do anything that might make your foot bleed.

When you’re done, you have about an hour to wander around the house. You don’t exactly feel comfortable, but Finnick goes right ahead. He holds onto your hand and brings you through each and every floor. On the second one, you come across Mayor Burrula’s twins.

They’re both eighteen now, seniors. Ameer and Mirza are the most popular in their grade, and considering that they’re both boys, they’ve got a bigger voice than you could ever have with Finnick. It’s an easy business opportunity, and it doesn’t take long before Finnick catches on. Neither of you mention it, instead you take the hour to get close to them.

When the hour is up, you’re brought around to be with your teams again. Elysia reminds you what you’re supposed to do, you and Finnick are fussed over for the final time. Once again, everyone slowly descends down the stairs and outside, where the district is loud with whistling and clapping.

The prep teams, Elysia, the stylists and finally, your mentors all leave. In the end, it’s just you and Finnick standing there.

The tour is almost over.

Finnick offers his arm to you, “One last celebration.” he says.

You slip your arm into his, leaning over to give him a kiss.

“One last celebration.”

[isitmadness]

A Handsome Stranger

story summary: Driving 1,300 miles in a truck with a complete stranger. This will be fine. This was what desperation will get you. Desperation and something akin to love-at-first-sight.

chapter summary: The strangers get to know one another. 

relationships: Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi

words: 3.2k

a/n: I liked the idea of these two idiots on a road trip in an AU/modern setting, so I wrote one. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  

Read it on ao3

Part 1: A Handsome Stranger at the Airport

Part 2: The Handsome Strangers Talk

As they hurtled down the highway, Cody thought long and hard about what he had just done. Oh, his brothers were going to give him such a hard time about this.

“You did what? What the hell is wrong with you?” Boil’s voice, harsh and annoyed rang in his ears.

“Okay, but what did the guy look like? Was he cute?” Rex asked.

Boba just laughed, “Idiot. And here I thought you were the smart one.”

He wanted to tell them all to shut up and they hadn’t even berated him yet. At least he hadn’t given Waxer a chance to yell at him. Thank goodness for small mercies. He really didn’t know what had come over him. Could he even be sure the guy’s name was Ben?

“You know, you never really answered my question,” Ben said suddenly from Cody’s right. He looked over to find Ben studying him, a curious expression on his face.

“And what question was that then?”

“Why you were at the airport with a full moving truck.”

“Ah,” Cody nodded. He was impressed that Ben remembered that he never answered him. “I was saying goodbye to my brother, Waxer.”

Ben’s skeptical eyebrow returned. “Waxer?”

“Ahh...yeah, he’s got a chrome dome,” Cody chuckled. “He works for one of the other rental agencies there and he takes care of the cars, in addition to helping with rentals.”

Ben laughed, “A very descriptive nickname then. And I suppose that is a believable story. Seems too boring to be made up. So, is it just you and Waxer then?”

“Oh goodness no.” Cody wanted to laugh. He didn’t know why the thought of only one brother amused him, but it did. Perhaps it was because he was actually the oldest of five boys. He looked over and found Ben staring at him expectantly. Oh, gods, he was making conversation, he really wanted to know.

“I’m actually the oldest of five boys,” Cody added after some time. Ben’s eyes widened.

“Five? Wow...you all must have certainly given your parents a run for their money.” He smiled, but Cody thought he saw a hint of sadness there for a moment.

Cody cleared his throat, “Yes, I suppose you could say that. So, there’s me, Rex, a set of twins of which Waxer is a part, Boil is the other, and the youngest of us is Boba, the brat.”

Ben laughed, “They sound delightful. But, Boil? How does one get a nickname such as that?”

Cody chuckled to himself, he’d always found the nickname ridiculous, but it had stuck. “I actually don’t remember where he got his nickname, but he’s had it since he was a kid. I don’t think I could call him anything but Boil now.”

Ben smiled, “And you are all Maori?”

“We are! Most ask if I’m Australian. I’m sadly impressed when people can tell the difference, and annoyed when they can’t.”

“Well I’m glad I haven’t already made it on your annoyed side.”

“Speaking of accents...Scottish?”

Ben nodded then realized Cody couldn’t hear a nod. “Yes, from Perth. Though, after living everywhere BUT Scotland for so long, I’m afraid I’m losing most of it.”

“And do you have any siblings?”

Ben was silent for a moment. “Yes, one brother, Anakin.”

“And where do you fall in the annoying brother line?”

Ben laughed again, and for that Cody was oddly grateful. He was hesitant to ask personal questions about family, but surely Ben knew he didn’t have to answer them if he didn’t want to. “I am the annoying big brother. I am also the annoying dad. Anakin tells me so all the time.” Ah, perhaps that explained some of the sadness. “Anakin is almost a father himself now. He and his wife, Padme are expecting twins, and they’re due very soon. It’s one of the reasons why I’m trying to get back to Seattle so quickly.”

“Ah! Well, congratulations,” Cody looked over and smiled. “They’re going to have their hands full.”

“And Anakin himself is only 22! A kid having kids…” Ben shook his head. “I don’t know how this is going to go, but I know he loves Padme very much and seems to already be enthralled by the idea of the babies, so...”

“That’s certainly a challenge the first go ‘round, but I’m sure they’ll be grateful that you’re there, too.”

Ben smiled warmly and turned back to look out the passenger window, “I hope so.”

----

Half an hour turned into an hour and they rode in silence. He wasn’t sure what to make of Ben. He seemed kind, funny, sarcastic and easygoing, but at any given time, underneath there was a mote of sadness. At first, he wasn’t sure if Ben’s chattiness was his usual personality or nervousness. But he had gone silent 10 minutes ago now, and Cody couldn’t find anything else to say. He found himself wanting to get to know Ben better, but felt suddenly shy.

He looked over to find Ben’s eyes closed and his head resting on the back wall of the cab. Was he asleep? Cody was surprised at the amount of trust Ben displayed by falling asleep so easily next to a stranger. He tucked that away for later and turned the radio on low so he wouldn’t have to be totally alone with his thoughts.

He needed to keep his eyes on the road and not on the freckles dusting Ben’s cheeks and nose or the long eyelashes fluttering while Ben slept. Dammit. He would tuck that away for later as well.

----

Ben woke slowly, groggy and confused. Where was he? How’d he fall asleep so easily? He looked around and found himself sitting alone in the cab of a truck. What the hell? He opened the door and stumbled out, not quite realizing how far down he needed to step, and ran face-first into a gas pump.

“Shit!” Ben winced as he grabbed his face. He pulled his hand away to see blood on his fingers. “Oh, shit…”

“Ben, are you alright??” Cody was at his side instantly, he felt a warm hand on his right shoulder. Oh, that’s right...Cody. He hitched a ride with a complete stranger at the San Diego airport. And now it seemed he was bleeding? “Ben??”

Ben looked up at Cody and found him looking very worried. “How bad is it?”

“Well, it looks like you cut the bridge of your nose. How in the world did you manage that?” Ben could tell that he wanted to laugh.

“It’s okay, Cody, you can laugh,” Ben touched his nose again. “I can’t believe you found out so quickly how graceful I can be. I was hoping to keep that a secret as long as possible.”

Cody smiled, “Well at least it didn’t hurt your sense of humor.”

“No indeed. Only my nose and my pride.” Ben looked around. “But, uh, where are we? How long was I out?”

Cody finished pumping the gas and closed off the gas tank. “Why don’t we go inside and use their restroom? Get you cleaned up. You can’t let that go,” Cody said pointing to Ben’s face.

“Yes, of course, you’re right.”

Cody started to walk away but stopped when he felt a sudden tug on the back of his shirt. “Wh--?”

He turned around to find Ben holding his hand to his nose and smiling. “I need assistance, I clearly cannot get around on my own.” Cody couldn’t help but laugh.

----

Once inside, Cody collected first aid supplies, not quite believing that Ben managed to hurt himself so badly on their first stop. He hoped it wasn’t an indication of how the rest of the trip was going to go. They weren’t even to Los Angeles yet.

They gathered supplies and snacks and went to check out. “Do you have a restroom we could use?” Cody asked the attendant. “My friend here had a bit of an accident outside.”

The attendant took in Ben’s face and winced. “Yeah, of course.”

Ben and Cody finished checking out then went outside to find the restrooms. Ben was a bit horrified at his current circumstances. At a gas station in...who-knows-where...bleeding, on a road trip with a handsome stranger. This was why he was a failed writer - because he couldn’t come up with anything so ridiculous on his own.

Cody was washing his hands and wetting a paper towel when Ben asked about their location again. “We’re just outside Los Angeles now.”

“Oh, that’s it?” Ben asked, leaning next to the sink.

“How long did you think you were asleep?” Cody grinned and brought the wet paper towel up to Ben’s nose, hovering, asking silently if he could touch him. When he nodded, Cody pressed the paper towel to his nose gently and cleaned the cut. Ben hissed. “Sorry about that.”

“No, it’s fine,” Ben shrugged. He watched Cody’s face as he worked. This close he could see that, in addition to the jagged scar around his left eye, he also had several other scars across his forehead, cheeks and chin. Whatever horrible accident he had been through, he had seemed to heal well. And Ben found that the scars greatly added to his allure.

He winced again as Cody cleaned what he hoped was the last of the blood. “Almost done,” Cody confirmed as if reading his thoughts. He opened the antibiotic cream and bandages and set about finishing the first aid. Ben couldn’t stop thinking about how he got himself into such a ridiculous situation, but he needed to, otherwise awkwardness would take over and he’d insist that Cody leave him behind, and he’d just have to find another way to Seattle to avoid this intense embarrassment.

However, as Cody pressed the bandage into place, Ben’s embarrassment gave way to thoughts about warm, tender hands, and how he’d miss them when Cody was finished. And how they might feel on--

“There,” Cody said, interrupting Ben’s dangerous train of thought. “You’re almost as good as new. Except you also have a bit of blood on your sweater...just there.” Cody pointed to Ben’s collar bone. Ben turned to look in the mirror. With the exception of the bandage, he looked just the same, except maybe even more tired (despite the nap). But the sweater was going to have to go.

“Thank you, Cody,” Ben turned back and smiled at his road trip partner. He began to remove his sweater, his next question muffled, “Bet you didn’t think you’d have to be administering first aid, eh?”

“I have to admit, no I did not,” Cody laughed. Ben’s hair was all over the place. He wanted to reach out and fix it, but he kept his hands still. “But I’m no stranger to injuries and first aid, so you were in luck.”

“In more ways than one,” Ben smiled and turned back towards the mirror to fix his hair and clean his sweater. Cody kept his eyes fixed on Ben and decided to not think anything more about that throwaway comment.

“Well, if you’re done admiring your handsome visage, I actually need to use the restroom before we leave,” Cody said.

“Ah, yes, of course. I shall leave,” he said in the most awkward way possible.

He walked back to the truck and realized he didn’t have the key, so he stood on the passenger side and leaned against the door. He unbuttoned his shirt at both wrists and rolled up his sleeves, thinking about how quickly and how gently he took care of Ben and wondering why he had just called him handsome.

Ben shook his head and laughed at how ridiculous he was being. He knew next-to-nothing about Cody. He hadn’t mentioned a partner, but that certainly didn’t mean one didn’t exist. And there were many other factors that could keep him from being interested. He also felt the need to examine how easily he was able to trust this stranger and fall asleep next to him. That was certainly new.

“Okay then?” Ben jerked his head up at the sound of Cody’s voice. He pushed off from the side of the truck and nodded. Cody walked over to unlock the door, appreciating that Ben looked more comfortable now, less stuffy without his sweater and his sleeves rolled to the elbows. It was a good look. “Need a hand up?” Cody smirked.

“Ha. More like a...hand down next time. Like a queen exiting her fancy carriage.”

“Noted for the next stop,” Cody grinned.

Once inside the truck, Cody asked, “You think you have another five hours on the road in you? That will get us just outside San Jose, probably Monterey.”

“I’m game if you are.”

“You gonna fall asleep on me again?” Cody asked as he started the truck.

Ben sighed with a smile, “No promises, but I’m fairly certain that was it for my nap. I’m not always the best passenger. I guess I should have warned you upfront - sometimes I get car sickness when I’m not driving.”

“Oh, uh...yeah, I had no idea. Sleep if you need to! I was just joking.”

“Oh, no need to apologize! But if I seem a little off, I’m just trying to keep the contents of my stomach down, not that there’s much there in the first place.”

“That was a lovely mental image, Ben, thanks,” Cody laughed. “Do you need to drive instead? I guess I can switch places.”

“Would you mind terribly? That might help me.”

Cody hesitated, “Technically I’m the only one who’s supposed to drive, but...how would they even know?”

“Ohhh you, rule-breaker, you,” Ben said with a wink.

“Oh, fine, I’ll go around and you get in the driver’s seat.” Cody opened the door and hopped out, gracefully. Meanwhile, Ben slid across the bench into the driver’s seat. He and Cody got situated and he took off, leaving the site of his embarrassing injury behind.

It had been a long while since he had driven a large truck, but was pleased that it came back to him easily. There wasn’t much to it, but it wasn’t quite the same as driving a much smaller vehicle. He looked over at Cody and was horrified to find his seatbelt wasn’t on. “Your seat belt??” Ben asked without any preamble.

“Huh?” He looked at Ben, confused.

“Oh my g-- did you-- were you not wearing your seatbelt this entire time? Do you always go without your seatbelt?? Cody, how are you still alive?”

Cody was stunned, was Ben really chiding him like a mother hen? “I, uh…”

“As long as I’m driving, at the very least, please, for pete’s sake, put your seatbelt on,” Ben fussed.

Cody had to laugh as he pulled the belt across his chest, “Okay, mom.” It clicked into place. “There. Are you happy now?”

“Thank you, I’m satisfied.”

----

They were making better time than Cody expected, and it was because Ben was actually quite a fast driver. Cody now understood the insistence of the seatbelt.

He stayed awake and they had an easy-going and lovely conversation about many different things. Cody learned that Ben was a sociology professor and a (failed, his word) writer on the side. Which sort of explained some of his ramblings. Ben learned that Cody had been in the navy for most of his life and was a captain. He also learned that his move to the Kitsap naval base came with a promotion to commander. Ben was impressed.

They ran the gamut of other topics, from what music they liked (Ben: classical for writing and alternative rock for everything else, Cody: any kind of metal), to favorite foods, to stupid things they did in school, and stupid things their brothers did in school. When they began to talk about reading and writing, Ben became very animated, and Cody found himself quite taken with passionate Ben.

They stopped for dinner and another bathroom break a little further down the road, and Ben was pleased he managed to get out of the truck without any more incidents. He continued to drive and Cody took a quick post-dinner nap. Ben found it rather endearing that he snored, but he’d never dream of telling the man.

As they got closer to their final destination, Ben wondered what the room situation would be like and how much it would cost. He had never really been one to fly by the seat of his pants, especially where travel planning was concerned, despite saying yes so easily to Cody in the San Diego airport. The unknown element of their lodgings made him nervous.

“You know a place for us to stay? Or do you plan for us to pull over on the side of the road and sleep in the truck?” Ben asked it very tongue-in-cheek, but he was slightly worried that this might actually be his plan.

“Oh, yes!” Cody replied. “There’s a hotel I know of just off the interstate. My brother, Rex and I have stayed there before. It’s nice, clean and relatively cheap.”

Ben was about to make a completely idiotic joke about whether that was the name of Cody’s sex tape, but decided to keep his mouth shut. The man seemed to have a decent sense of humor, but he didn’t need to know how terrible Ben’s sense of humor could get just yet. Instead he opted for simple, “That sounds good. I am getting rather tired.”

“You know, if you’re tired of driving, you can tell me...at any time,” Cody said.

Ben nodded and yawned, as if on cue. “Oh yes, I know, but if we’re almost there, I can make it a bit further.”

They pulled into the hotel parking lot 30 minutes later, and Ben parked the truck successfully while Cody ran inside to check on some rooms. Rooms, plural, Ben hoped. He found himself already a bit attracted to the naval captain, so sharing a room would just be...probably not a good idea.

Ben gathered their overnight bags from the truck and walked into the hotel lobby just as Cody was finishing up. He walked over and handed him a key. “We’re on the second floor, right next to each other.”

Ben breathed a sigh of relief. “Sounds great.”

Once they reached their doors, Cody turned to Ben, “Think we could make it to Eugene tomorrow? It’s about 10 hours from here.”

Ben nodded, “I think we can try. What time should I be awake?”

“Maybe seven? If you’d like breakfast, that is,” Cody said with a grin. “Are you a morning person?”

He laughed, “Not exactly, but I will make it happen.”

“Okay then, we’ll try to leave by eight.” They both opened their doors and hesitated before going inside. “Goodnight, Ben. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Cody, you do the same,” Ben smiled. He watched as Cody disappeared into his room, but before he could close the door, Ben called his name.

Cody’s head appeared right outside the door, “Yeah?”

“I just, uh...thank you. For this.” Cody nodded, smiled, and disappeared once more, the door clicking softly behind him.

Ben walked in his room. It was rather nice and the bed looked incredibly inviting. He couldn’t wait to take a nice, warm shower and fall into a blissful slumber, and very pointedly not dream about a certain naval captain.

[remys-lucky-franc]

Comfort - Remy POV Fic (Queen of Thieves)

“Hey, I wanna ask for a Remy angst. Are you allowed to write angst?”

I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to write this for you, life’s just been a bit crazy between work and studying lately, and it’s so annoying because I’ve had some really nice requests that I’m excited to write for people, but I just haven’t had any time to work on them! Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this @ilovewritingfics 💕

Notes: although it’s written from Remy’s POV (I’ve never written a POV before for anything!), the fic is set in Nikolai’s route, which sounds weird, but you’ll see what I mean. No specific TWs for the fic, it covers Nikolai’s trauma surrounding his family, so if you aren’t up to date and don’t want a spoiler on that, or if it’s upsetting to you, consider giving this one a miss.

Word Count 2100

I want to credit my lovely friend @stopforamoment for her suggestion on the topic for this short fic - thank you lovely.

—-

[MORE] [[MORE]]

Dinner Club. One of my favourite things we do together. Every member of The Gilded Poppy is different and everyone has their own interests, of course. But this is something we can all enjoy, and I love this family time so much: everyone laughing, sharing food, telling stories, teasing each other... It’s always such fun to be part of this, and after a successful heist, it’s even better!

After all, tonight we have a beautiful vintage fencing sword in our possession! I know, it’s part of a much larger plan, but for tonight at least, stealing it has made Niko really happy, and that makes me happy. He’s sitting at the end of the table with a glint in his eye, listening to Daisy and Leon chatter joyfully about the (I must say, very predictable) ‘twist’ at the end of some romance novel. It’s a glint that I’ve seen a lot since Daisy joined our (very attractive) crime family. I smile to myself as I watch how her cheeks colour so prettily when she notices his eyes fixed on her, like she’s the only person in the room. It’s been a long time since I’ve saw Niko’s interest pique the way it does when she’s close by, if ever, actually. The energy between them, it’s something quite unique: special. She’s a match for him in ways I’ve never seen before, and the challenge is good for him. It’s like she set off a spark in him and all of the wonderful things that make him Niko, are just ‘more’ with her around. I watch them play their game - anticipation, flirtation, power and control - I’m well-versed in ‘love’ and seduction (some would say ‘a master’) but this something else: it’s not part of a con, not something ‘to get out of your system’... I only hope Daisy doesn’t tire of it, because I’ve never seen someone get the better of Nikolai Stirling the way she can.

I lean forward skewering something delicious from the sharing platter in front of me, popping it into my mouth, laughing along to the friendly debate Zoe, Jett and Vivienne are having. Vivienne’s losing her argument and is trying to convince me to fight her corner, but I’m too preoccupied with how I could use my conman charms to ‘gently persuade’ my best friend and Daisy to forget who is winning their mindgames and push them closer together. Niko will hate me meddling, but it’s for his own good! Maybe tomorrow I can-

My plotting is abruptly ended as the waiter heading to a table behind us is jostled by a man who tries to squeeze past him in a space that’s too narrow. It’s like the world slows down... I can see what’s unfolding, but I’m powerless: I have no time, no way of stopping it. The waiter loses his footing, one arm flailing. I’m holding my breath! He recovers (barely) without falling over, but not before the glass of Amarone perched on his tray swirls and sloshes to one side, a crescendo of blood-red bursting free down the front of Nikolai’s crisp white shirt. The bold bouquet of fruit and spice hits my nose as deep red splatters bleed and seep across the fabric. Nikolai is frozen, complete horror etched across his face. Suddenly, all I can see is the scared fifteen year-old I befriended on the streets of Paris carrying a sick kitten.

The waiter has discarded his tray; he’s panicked and apologising to Nikolai, fumbling for a napkin to try to blot away the mess. Our friends have noticed, but before anyone else can react, I’m halfway across the table with the salt cellar slipped inside my pocket. I wrap one comforting arm around Niko, my other hand on the waiters arm, reassuring him (in flawless Italian, of course) that everything is under control and I’ll take it from here. Within seconds, I have Nikolai on his feet, gripping him close to me as I guide him towards the restroom: always moving forward. I keep my free arm across his chest, deliberately, to shield the stains from his sight; leaning in close, chattering to distract him. Anything I can do, anything to keep him walking until I can get him inside. He’s hyperventilating by the time we enter the plush restroom, and fortunately it’s empty.

“Niko? Breathe. Slowly. Come on.”

He’s still not responding, I gently put pressure on his shoulder, manoeuvring him onto an Art Deco-style chaise beside a large mirror. I crouch in front of him, cupping his face in my hands, offering comfort, speaking softly,

“It’s ok. I’m here. Your Remy’s got you. It’s going to be ok. You’re safe.”

It’s a mantra I repeat several times over while he trembles. Minutes feel much longer, but now his breathing is slowing and for the first time since the spillage, he makes eye contact with me. I’m so relieved! I nod and smile before I press a heartfelt kiss to his cheek. The worst has passed. He’s going to be ok.

I pause, taking just a few seconds to catch my own breath: getting him away from the table to a safe space, keeping him moving, it was all automatic, all done on instincts. But now, my mind races. I’m so glad this happened when I was at the table; would anyone else have been able to get him out the way I did? Would he have let anyone else lead him off like this? He looked so vulnerable just now, it breaks my heart to think of it...

‘Focus, Remy. Come on. You’re not done yet.’

I lean back, fingers shifting to his collar, offering him my most suggestive grin,

“Lose the shirt.”

Nikolai manages a weak laugh (I knew that would get him!) as his fingers move toward his buttons, I realise a second too late that his hands are shaking too much to undo them. He mutters a strangled apology and rakes a hand through his dark hair as I make short work of them, startled by just how hard his heart hammers inside his chest, even now, minutes after the incident. He shrugs his way out of the shirt and I take it to the counter, grabbing some paper towels to blot out the liquid before dumpling half of the stolen salt cellar onto the stain. Selecting an expensive-looking cologne from the selection provided, I head back to Niko, spritzing it around him as I go, trying to erase the lingering scent of the alcohol from his nostrils.

As I join him on the chaise, he clears his throat awkwardly, his usually crisp clear voice barely audible at all,

“Thank you.”

I bump my shoulder against his, still trying to lighten the mood,

“Pas de problème.”

He still looks like he’s met a ghost, and I can feel the seat vibrate under me from his agitated tapping foot. But at least he’s speaking to me: when things have happened before, things that have triggered horrible memories for him, sometimes it’s taken hours to get him to even look at me. The first time it happened, long before The Gilded Poppy existed, we were only street kids, sleeping rough and begging. I’ll never forget it as long as I’m alive. A group of men left a bar near where we were hoping to earn a few francs, one of them was worse for wear and fell to the ground, vomiting. It wasn’t until I turned to Niko, ready to make some sassy comment about how the drunk couldn’t hold his liquor or his wallet, that I realised something was very, very wrong. It took hours for him to come back around, and days to feel better afterwards... I didn’t have a very happy childhood, and I was forced to grow up quickly, but not in the same way as Niko. The things he suffered... I can’t help but put myself into his shoes, picturing my family around our small dinner table, my lovely old meme, my mother bringing food to the table, my father chatting to my young brother about school... How unreal it must have felt to Niko, how terrifying. I cannot begin to imagine: to watch your whole family die... And such a painful death... It’s little wonder it haunts him. I scrub my hand across my eyes trying to shake the sickening scene.

I clap my hand on Niko’s knee as I stand, heading back to check how the salt is working on his shirt: it may seem ridiculous, but a conman has to think fast, and you never know when a cleaning tip like this will be useful! Of course, the shirt is looking much better - now I just need to rinse it and dry it off. Almost done. I bustle around the washbasin, running the breast of Niko’s shirt under the piping water, rinsing away the salt, pink dye flowing down the drain, erasing tonight’s events. I hold it up to the lights, smiling as I do.

“I think the shirt will survive, Niko.”

I start the hand drier, just as I hear Niko murmur something, far too low for me to hear over the roar,

“What was that?”

I stop, making my way back across to the chaise, gesturing for Niko to repeat himself. He looks up at me with the saddest blue eyes,

“I never wanted her to see me, like, this. How can she...” His posture visibly stiffens, “She won’t respect me after this?”

I frown. Of course, he’s talking about Daisy. And something in his voice tells me that Daisy’s ‘respect’ isn’t the feeling he’s truly worried about, but while he’s shirtless in a restaurant bathroom really isn’t the best time for me to play Cupid... I try to tell Nikolai that Daisy is the last person who would think any less of him because of this, she is so lovely: surely he knows her well enough, to know that? Daisy is sensitive and kind: she would understand. But he’s still shaken and so agitated about what happened at the table, my honest words make no difference; his barricades are going up and he mutters that he doesn’t want her pity. I make a show of raising one eyebrow at him, and shaking my head before I march back to the hand drier. I love Niko dearly, but he can be so stubborn, it makes me crazy!

Ten minutes later, Niko is looking much more collected, and is back in his gleaming white shirt: I am a man of many talents, it’s true! He straightens himself up in front of the mirror as I watch on: it’s almost as though nothing ever happened. We exit the restroom and rejoin our friends. Everyone is wonderfully discrete: they pretend we never left the table. Niko doesn’t utter a single word for the rest of the evening. His expression is strained and he doesn’t touch a bite of his food - he’s going through the motions but I know he can’t wait for the evening to end. I chip in some delightful anecdotes to help keep the conversation flowing, but what happened tonight weighs heavily on me: what if this happened and I wasn’t here? What if something like this happened on a heist? What if I couldn’t get to him? What would we do? How could I keep my best friend safe? What if something went wrong and I wasn’t around anymore? Who else understands like me?

I meet Daisy’s big brown eyes over the table, concern is written across her face. She really cares for Niko, it’s so obvious. I wish he would let her in... Having someone else who loves you, an extra person in this world looking out for you, to rely on... She could be the best thing that ever happened to him. She could make him happy, I can see it all.

I make a silent promise to myself: they say that love will find a way? Well, it certainly will when Remy Chevalier helps it along.

[cecilspeaks]

161 - The Space Race

Space, the final frontier. The womb, the first frontier. Somewhere between those two, the ocean. Welcome to Night Vale.

I’m excited today for the annual Night Vale Children’s Fun Fact Science Presentation. Yess, that’s right! As we’ve done every year on this day, we will be devoting our entire episode to a scientific narrative that is sure to delight both the young and the young at heart. And also those who have stolen young hearts and incorporated them into your flesh sacks. For this year’s Children’s Fun Fact Science Presentations, we will be looking into the history of – the Space Race. Mmm! My husband Carlos has been helping me research this. Thanks, honey! And so it should be airtight and without error.

Now, the Space Race truly began in 1792, at a garden party hosted by the first Duke of Luftnarp one lazy July weekend. A bored group of noble people were sitting out in the garden in all their ruffles and wigs, looking absolutely fashionable for the time, and absolutely ridiculous to modern eyes. And soon the conversation turned, as it often does in parties, to how much they all hated the moon. “Stupid moon!” said one. “Lousy orb!” added another. “Why, I loathe that sky rock!” said a third. Then they started to throw things at the moon to demonstrate how much they hated it. But none of the objects they threw, not the champagne glasses, nor the decorative party masks, nor the dangerous knives, came anywhere near the moon. Most of the hurled items followed the tedious arch of gravity back into the party with mixed results for the attendees, some of whom required immediate medical attention. “This won’t do,” said the first Duke of Luftnarp. “We must hit the moon square on with our objects of derision. “Let us endeavour,” said the Prince of  York, “to build an object that can make it all the way to the moon, and smack that awful rock right across its ugly surface. The first one to do so will show that they indeed hate the moon the most.” There was general cheering to that remark, along with some moaning from those who had been struck by the falling objects. And thus, the Space Race was born.

And now the news. As I’m sure we’ve all been following, there is a presidential race going on. Yes, Night Vale may be a small town, mostly preoccupied with the banal goings on of our day to day life, but we are not unaware of national stories. Just like any other town, we have our own opinions on the presidential race. And spirited debates are held weekly in the Compressed Spine amateur boxing gym. Winner is generally by knockout, although occasionally a winner has to be chosen by points. I myself am a strong supporter of Spotless Tony, who I think has the best positions including banning guns, legalizing writing utensils, and Medicare for Spotless Tony. A-a program that would provide comprehensive health care to himself. Others may support Heartbreak Maggie, and I do see the arguments for her. She has the most number of arms, the most number of eyes, and her singing voice literally kills. In any case, I think we can all get together on one thing: Old Towel Leonard has got to go. Get him out of here, ugh! Old Towel Leonard! This has been the news.

And now traffic. Lift your eyes, pilgrims. See above you, another world awaits. This world has grown so tired. This world has grown restless. This world has less color and more dust. Lift your eyes, pilgrims. See above you, another world awaits. Get to that other world by any means, pilgrims. For what are pilgrims without their pilgrimage? What is anyone without a destination? You must lift yourself up to that other place. Gather your supplies, pilgrims. Strip this world bare in order to raise yourself up. Take every scrap around you and put it toward that other world. This is all that matters. It’s all that matters to you, and so it is all that matters. Aloft, pilgrims. You have done it. from here, the sweep of the universe presents itself. Cast down your eyes, pilgrims. See below you the world you left behind, the world you stripped bare to make this journey. There was found all the conditions of life. Up here is only a cold, lonely hollow. Why did you ever feel you needed to leave? But oh well, ooooh well. For what are pilgrims without their pilgrimage? This has been traffic.

Let us know continue with our Children’s Fun Fact Science Presentation. The history of the Space Race. The Space Race went on through the 18th and 19th centuries, with the rich and poor alike trying to be the first to successfully throw something at that horrible moon. The most obvious methods were quickly tried and discarded. Catapults only managed to cause collateral damage to neighboring homes, gunpowder only backfired on the scientists involved, often quite literally. One woman, the Arch Dutchess of the Motley Meadows, believed that she could reach the moon through dreaming. Every night, she performed a series of meditations that allowed her to have lucid control of her dreams. In those dreams, she would fly upward, each time getting a little closer to the dumb old moon. It was her belief that when she reached the moon in her dream, she would attain the same goal in real life. But the moment she finally touched the moon in her dream, she awoke to find herself in the stifling darkness of a coffin. It seems she had died several decades before, but still she dreamed. Having ascertained that there was no way back from the grave, she performed the meditations and fell into one final endless lucid dream. And that basically sums up the Space Race until 1953.

Now a word from our sponsors. Today’s show is brought to you by Borders Books and Music. Remember the old days when your legs were shorter, but your life stretched longer? When the shadows were less dark and the lights less bleary. When the internet was a secret club and not a poisoned chalice. When energy was a bottomless thing, not a quickly siphoned tank. We are what once was. Look on our works, both books and music, ye mighty, and peruse. Borders Books and Music. What you are now, we used to be. What we are now, you will be. This has been a word from our sponsors.

The lawsuit in the case of the estate of Franklin Chen versus the city of Night Vale continues apace. The suit is currently in the discovery phase, which has been made difficult by the fact that the apparent murderer of Franklin Chen, Hiram McDaniels, has not been seen in Night Vale for years. Not since… the incident. And all records in Night Vale are top secret. So every time the lawyers for the Chen family try to see one, they have to dodge the laser grid and tank darts that surround every filing cabinet in City Hall. Those lawyers have filed an injunction against the city to try to force them to turn the laser grids off, but as the official Night Vale motto, written by the town founders hundreds of years ago clearly states: “Laser grids or death”. More news on this lawsuit as news is made by this lawsuit.

Back to the Space Race. Affairs continued with little success until 1953, when the United States, descendants of the Prince of York, decided that enough was enough and established the North American Slap the Moon Agency, or NASA, dedicated to developing the skills and technology needed to give that horrible orbiter what for. Meanwhile, the Russians, descendants of the Duke of Luftnarp, started their own agency designed to kick the moon in the you know what. And so a bet between two bored aristocrats became a global race, as they both tried to be the first to aim missiles at that sad little planetoid. To represent us, we chose Neil Armstrong. He was a test pilot, and he reportedly hated the moon more than anyone. Above his bed, he kept a National Geographic picture of the moon. The caption: “Can this celestial trash ever be put in its place?”, which he had drawn a huge red X through. Below that, he wrote: “Darn you, moon!” Which was the strongest language that existed in the 1950’s.

Finally, all was prepared. Neil Armstrong and his fellow astronauts boarded the rocket. All was quiet. Then, all was loud. More soon, but now for this week’s word jumble.

The following nonsense words will, when the letters are rearranged, produce a simple phrase we all know well. Here we go. Before I went into the cave, the prospect of the cave became so monstrous in my head that I dreamt about it for weeks. In my dreams I was just outside of the cave and I knew that the moment I stepped into the cave, my life would be over. But I also knew I could not delay my journey into the cave. I shook and shook with fear, and in my shaking awoke myself. This happened night after night. Then came the day of our expedition and to my horror, as I stood outside the cave, the same dread certainty came to me as soon as I stepped one foot into the crevice before me, my life would be over. I shook and shook, but I did not awaken, for I was not asleep but in the terrible dream we call life. So there it is. Just take those nonsense words apart and rearrange them into the phrase we’re looking for. If you think you have the answer, you probably do. Great job! Uh, before we go, the answer to last week’s jumble was: “Hop! The window shakes slyly, look here!” Which is, of course, the title to Dave Edgar’s new book of essays about block chains. This has been this week’s word jumble.

We near the end of our story on the Space Race. Neil Armstrong and his comrades hunched in this tiny capsule that absurdity of absurdities was about to be launched through void to lifeless rock. Sweat on his nose, sweat on his lips. Then sweat in his mouth. This was all unnecessary, the-the history of humanity did not require us to physically touch everything there is, but. Some drive made him willing to risk his life, the only life he would ever get, in order to go far away and then come back again. There was a sound. There was a fire! There was pressure! And then, there was an absence of pressure. And they were at the moon. The lander careened its way to the surface. Neil, sweat still on his face, placed one foot on the moon. “I have a small foot,” he said. “But humanity metaphorically has big feet. Biiiig huuuge metaphoric feet.” History would record and repeat these poetic words. Neil looked about him. He had done it. He had been the first one to smack into this disgusting space rock. All around was grey, and above that black. And within that, unnervingly distant blue and green. And then, Neil saw.

What Neil saw in a moment. But we really should, and we really must Go to the weather.

[“Have a Smoke” by Head Portals https://headportals.bandcamp.com]

Neil’s breath made shapes on the inside of his helmet. Some part of him felt that it was not even him on the moon, but that he was merely watching someone else’s body through a little window. That other him stepped forward and saw something truly odd. It was a house. Solidly built, two floors, a front door and gable windows. As he looked at it in disbelief, he realized that it was one of many. An entire town all cleverly camouflaged from above with grey and black mesh, so that it would appear through telescopes to be merely the awful boring surface of the awful boring moon. He was not the first one on the moon after all. Who had come before? He walked through the town, tho it appeared abandoned. He stood in the middle of the main square and he said, tho he would not be able to be heard through his helmet and the thin atmosphere: “Hello?” In every window appeared an animal. Dogs, cats, snakes, hamsters, and parrots. So many animals all watching him silently, regarding him from the windows of their little town. One cat, grey as the moon itself, hopped from her ledge and came over to him. “I am Barbara Emmeline Gwendolyn Sauss,” said the cat. “But you may call me Barb-E-Q –Sauss.” Neil said: “You can talk?” And then he said, “Well, apparently you can, I don’t know why I asked. The cat continued as though he had not spoken. “This is our city. We are the lost pets of your world. We are lost, because that is what we choose to be. We came here so we could be lost forever. Tell no one.” Neil didn’t know what to say. All of his training had been about zero-G maneuvering and the best way to hit the stupid moon when he got there. Nothing about how to interact with a cat that wanted him to keep a secret. “Please,” the cat repeated, and Neil nodded. Not knowing what else to do, he went back to the lander, climbed in, and looked at the other man who had made this journey with him. Lee Marvin looked back at him with gentle eyes. “Lee,” Neil said, “You’re not going to believe this!” “A secret lost pet city on the moon?” Lee said. “Well…” Neil said, “Uh… yes!” Lee nodded thoughtfully. “Better leave them to it then,” he said. “Probably better we keep this between us.” Lee did not look surprised. It seemed to Neil that maybe Lee was there precisely to ensure that this secret was kept. And so again Neil only nodded, and they made their preparations and left. As they launched, out of the tiny window, Neil could just barely see thousands of animal eyes looking up at him. “I’ll keep your secret,” he whispered, “I’ll keep your secret. And he did. He never told anyone. Neither did Lee. No one knows this story. No one has ever heard it.

This has been the Children’s Fun Fact Science Presentation.

Good night, Night Vale, Good night.

Today’s proverb: Correct placement from right to left: salad fork, soup spoon, salad spoon, bread knife, bowie knife, meat thermometer, entrée fork, and finally, the dessert claws.

[bobblewonka]

My best friend’s brother - Ben Solo

warnings: NSFW (just a little)

Pd. I am new to this and English is in fact not my language so I am sorry if the story has some errors

Summary: Modern Ben Solo 

Rey and you have been being best friends since you two were 8 yo, now at the wonderful 22 years old that magic friendship was still there.

Their relationship had ups and downs like any other, but even so they were always there for each other, you knew how difficult it had been for Rey to have to spend so many years in orphanages until she finally arrived at the house of the family Solo.

Rey had been adopted by Han and Leia Solo at age of 7, they were a beautiful family, they and their other adoptive brother, Ben Solo, the difference was that this was a biological son, but nevertheless, that never made a difference, they loved both equally and the treatment was no different.

Ben Solo, what could you say about Ben? Well, today, 28 years old, tall, dark, serious, irritable, super smart and fucking handsome.

So to deny it, the guy was a character, with a personality and always arguing with his parents, anyways, your secret crush for your best friend's brother is point and apart and it did not go from being a Platonic love until now.

As a good friends you and Rey spend yours summer vacations together, you actually used to spend more time in Rey's house than in yours. You two had sleepovers, sometimes baked cakes, talk about boys, swim in the pool and whatever you could do at the moment. Ben’s presence was irrelevant in their activities.

Sometimes you could understand Ben a little, most of the things were about Rey and their parents dont used to ask a lot about him and too is the fact that Ben was a marine, you couldn't know what things he had to do in that time, he looks overwhelmed most of the time and no one seems to notice, well maybe his uncle Luke but that men was strange or maybe his personality was just like that. A good thing? Rey's parents were out for the weekend so as if you two were teens decide to get drunk in Rey's room while trying ridiculous outfits, eating pizza and talking about bullshit.

“So, there's this guy called Finn in my calculus class and he's asking me to hang out, I mean he's cute and funny and weird but I'm pretty sure he wants something formal and I don't want that” Rey started to say.

“Wow, a guy who respects you and wants to treat you like the real lady you are with good intentions and you...don't want him, for that?” you ask laughing

“Is not that”

“You know what is that? you are afraid” you told Rey.

“Of what?

”

“Idk, maybe love or some bullshit like that”

“Maybe I am, but you are too.Why don't you date with any guy?”she strikes back.

“I just don't like them, they still...too young and dumb and they just want sex” you answered.

“Wasn't that supposed to be the good thing?” she asked.

“I am not ready to lost my virginity with a supit guy that dont know how to please a woman, they just care about their own please” you said biting your lip.

“Well that's true, but the day that you lose your virginity I will give you a cake, “A new achievement unlocked” will be the catchword” she said laughing.

You laugh too, but no too much. Why? well guess who have been dating and having sex with her best friend's brother, yeah, that's you.

Apparently spend the last 14 years of your life with Rey seeing Ben too in that time made him be interested in you for a long time till the night Ben took you to your home at the beginning of summer because was late and you ended kissing for an hour in the car. You feel bad about it, Rey was your best friend and date with her brother could be weird for the 3 of you, maybe Rey might be angry with you and she wouldn't want to see you anymore or she could make you break up with Ben and you didn't want that, you love Ben and enjoy spend time with him but you love Rey too as the person who was ever with you, was a hard situation.

The night ended with Rey vomiting in the toilet.

“Don't let me drink again please” she said while you were holding her hair.

“I won’t” you said.

“And the next time don't let me send a message to Finn saying that I really really really want to have sex with him and be boyfriend and girlfriend but just is that I'm so afraid of what could happen” she continued.

“You did what?!”

She just lay on the bathroom floor letting out a groan.

“C'mon you don't want to sleep there, get up let's go to your bed” you said to her trying to lift her but she was already asleep so you decided to cover her with a towel and then you left the bathroom.

 Walking to Rey’s room to sleep you thought about it, Rey was so asleep and she wouldn't probably awake till the next morning so why don't visit Ben's room for a moment? And that moment become in the entire night, both of you ended cuddling naked in Ben's bed. You dont thought much about it, you were a little bit drunk so who cares?

“Good morning sunshine” you could hear but you still so sleepy that you just started to move your legs.

“Can't you wake up darling?” you could hear the voice of Ben, damn his sleepy morning voice was music for you.

You moved lying in his chest leaving kisses in all this.

“You had fun yesterday?” he asked similing.

“I was a lil drunk shut up” was the only thing you could said.

“Its 7 am, we should get dressed”he said hugging you.

“I have a better idea” you said starting to kissing him passionately.

At that moment Rey wake up with a horrible hangover on the bathroom floor so she try to get up but she can't, so, she decided to crawl to her room.

When she was crawling to her room, in the middle of the way she heard a strange sound in her brother's room,then she went to there and opened the door.

Well, she shouldn't have done that, all she saw was her brother lying in his bed with her best friend next to him kissing his neck and giving him a handjob (under the covers clearly) .

“what is happening here?” Rey screams making her notice in the room.

y/n and Ben stop immediately covering them with the blankets.

“What are you doing here? stop watching” Ben said angry.

“Rey” you just said looking at her.

“That's a lot to process” she said looking at the floor “I think now I have to buy you that cake”

[justthehiddleswrites]

Bah Hiddleston | Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon) | Chapter 7 | Snowball

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x OFC (Tamra Harmon)

Summary:  Tamra Harmon has no mind to mess with Christmas. All that talk about Christmas magic and the joy of the holidays is just a bunch of mumbo jumbo. But will a chance encounter with perennial Christmas lover Tom Hiddleston change all that?

This chapter:   Tom makes his feelings know but does Tamra feel the same? And where do they go from here? 

Warnings for story: smut, oral sex, implied smut, vaginal sex, light angst

-

As Tom pressed Tamra against him, electric shocks traveled from his lips to his toes. Tamra’s other hand moved to the back on Tom’s head, tangling in his ginger locks along the nape of his neck. He tasted of chocolate and mint. They sighed against each other and parted. Tom panted as he pushed his forehead against hers.

“Um…” Tamra panted as she twirled Tom’s hair in her fingers. “That was…”

“Yeah… ah.. so…” Tom stood up straight, searching her face for a smile, a wink, something to show him she returned his feelings.

“Um… so… you kissed me.” Tamra asked, pushing away to face Tom head on. She stood emotionless, her face a mask of all emotion.

“I did.” Tom flushed as he started to pull away, wringing his hands in front of him.

“Why?” she questioned.

“I did say I was a man of action.” Tamra’s face remained unmoved. The smile dropped from Tom’s face, and he felt a wave of guilt and embarrassment at the whole situation. He clearly read the room wrong. “We can just forget that ever—”

Tamra grabbed him and pulled him into another embrace. He returned the kiss and sighed against her and Tamra followed suit. Tom slipped his tongue in and Tamra moaned in his embrace. Their embrace grew more heated as Tom’s hand slid down from Tamra’s neck, past her shoulders, skimming her curves before lighting on her waist.

“So…” Tom panted as they parted. “You kissed me.” He stood confused.

“Yeah. I did.”

“Why, if I may ask?”

Tamra’s lips curled into a small smile. “You said you like a woman who takes charge. So… I took charge of the situation.” Her hands never left his neck.

His eyebrows rose as his mouth fell open. “I find myself lying awake at thinking about the next time I will see you. I can’t sleep. Hence the dark circles. It’s all your fault.”

Tamra giggled. “Are you blaming me for your lack of sleep?”

“Yes. You don’t know the effect you have on me.”

“And you… like you don’t know how ridiculously charming you are? I still hate Christmas but I can’t help but enjoy our time together.” Tamra huffed.

Tom smiled as he raised a hand to cup her cheek. “You think I’m charming?”

“You know you are. And handsome.”

“You think I’m handsome?” Tom smiled, raising now the other hand to cup Tamra’s other cheek.

“Did I say handsome? I meant incorrigible and ridiculous and… and…” Tamra stammered as her eyes darted around the room, as if searching for an escape.

“Darling…” Tom whispered as he kissed her once again, this time tender. His thumbs ran across her cheeks. Her hands raked through his curls.

“So where do we go from here?” she asked.

Tom opened his mouth, but his stomach growling stopped him from speaking.

“First, we need to eat some dinner. We skipped lunch. Again.”

Tamra rolled her eyes until her stomach growled. She pulled her arms around her midsection, willing her stomach to cease its loud yawing. Tom laughed.

“And then…”

“And then…” he gave a quick peck to her lips. “Whatever we want.

Tom led Tamra to the kitchen where he fished out a small collection of takeaway menus.

“So I was right about not cooking.”

“Guilty as charged. Pick a menu.”

Tamra shook her head. “You pick. I trust you.”

“A horrible choice.”

They spent the rest of the evening eating, watching movies on the couch and snuggling under the blankets. Tom yawned as Tamra clicked the movie.

“It’s late.” she commented about the hour. “You must be exhausted.”

She stood and turned to head to the guest room. Tom grabbed her wrist, preventing her exit.

“Stay with me tonight.”

She looked down at him. Her brow furrowed. “I am staying with you. We’re snowed in. Remember?”

Tom stood to meet her eyes. He released her wrists and laced his fingers with her. “No. I mean stay with me tonight. Not two doors down the hall. Not in the guest room. In my bed, next to me. I need you near me.”

Tamra chewed on her lower lip, considering the proposal. Tom dropped his chin and looked at her through his lashes, his eyes begging and pleading her to say yes. She gave his a hand a squeeze.

“Okay.”

He smiled and kissed her temple. “Thank you.”

Tom led her to the master bedroom, and they ended up buried under blankets and sheets. Tom sat up reading a script for a potential project. Tamra continues to read the book from the night before.

“Tom?” she asked in soft tones. He didn’t respond.

She turned to find him fast asleep, script slipping from his hand, his breath deep and even. Tamra went to his side of the bed and took the glasses from his face, placing them on the nightstand. She followed with the script, keeping his place. Finally, she cradled his head to lower the pillows flat. She brushed an errant curl from his forehead and press her lips to Tom’s forehead.

“Goodnight Tom.”

Tom rolled onto his side as she clicked the lamp off. “Goodnight darling.”

-

Tom awoke the next morning to find himself snuggled against Tamra’s back, arms wrapped around her. Tom hummed and sighed as he enjoyed the weight and warmth against his chest. He felt at peace and for the first time in days, refreshed. His alarm disrupted the blissful moment, and he turned to shut the sound off before it woke Tamra.

With much reluctance, Tom rolled out of bed and dressed for his walk. He fed Bobby and headed out the door after leaving a note in case Tamra woke up before he returned. On his run, his mind raced through everything that transpired over the past several days. He panicked for a moment at what would happen after the holidays ended and Tamra needed to leave but he pushed that troubling thought away for the time being. Tom returned and found Tamra still asleep. He headed to the shower.

-

“Now that is a sight I could get used to in the morning.” Tamra commented as Tom stepped out from the bathroom, his towel slung low on his waist.

Tom chuckled. “I agree 100%.” He leaned to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. “A lovely, beautiful woman in my bed. Smiling up at me. You spoil me.”

Tamra moved so Tom could take a seat next to her.

“What do you want to do? Which museum today?”

Tamra thought about the day ahead. “Why don’t we skip the museums for a day? You pick.”

Tom’s eyes lit up. “I know just the thing but first we need you to get dressed and go by your flat to pick up some clothes for you because you can’t wear my shirt outside.”

“But I make this look good.”

Tom kissed her, pulling her down on top of him. “You do.” he pecked her lips once, twice, three times. “But it is not suitable for snow. Would you settle for a borrowed hat, scarf, and gloves?”

“Fine.” Tamra stood. “Let me get dressed.” She left the room.

“You could use the bathroom in here!” He yelled in the general direction of the hallway.

“But it smells like boy!” a disembodied voice yelled back.

Tom took Bobby out to the backyard to run around in the accumulated snow. Bobby bounded through the thick blanket of white with balls of snow gathering on his fur, making him resemble a pom-pom monster.

“What a mess, boy.” Tom scolded as he brushed as much snow off of Bobby’s coat.

Bobby barked as if in agreement. Tom smiled as he petted Bobby’s back. “What do you think about Tamra? Is she a keeper?”

Bobby barked again and jumped into Tom’s chest, rocking him back and almost off his feet. “Me too, boy. Me too.”

Tom headed into the house and found Tamra standing in the living room, spying out a nearby window.

“A little male bonding time?” she chuckled as Bobby bounded in ahead of Tom, jumping at Tamra’s legs.

“Something like that. He is quite taken with you.”

Tamra knelt down to scratch behind Bobby’s ears. “He is a sweetheart.” Tom’s smile reached his eyes as he looked down at the two of them. “Much like his owner.”

“A high compliment coming from you.” Tom grabbed her jacket. “Come on, let’s go.”

Tamra gave Bobby a final scratch and took off for the door. Bobby gave a whine as Tom and Tamra gave a wave on their way out.

-

They stopped by Tamra’s flat first, so she could change into some fresh clothes and put on the one pair of boots she brought with her. Tom packed her suitcase into the back of the car.

They stopped by for more pastry and coffee and then walked over to the nearby park.

“So what about your family?” Tom asked as they sipped coffee and navigated the icy path.

“What about them?”

“Well, you’re here and they’re not. At Christmas. Surely you are not an entire family of Scrooges.”

Tamra snorted. “No. You and my mother could compete for the Christmas spirit stick. Fully decked out trees, the tree up the day after Halloween. The whole works.” Her nose crinkled in an expression Tom now recognized as a sign of distaste.

“I can’t wait to meet her.” Tom bumped into her shoulder.

“I don’t think I could handle two Buddies in my life. You are bad enough on your own.”

Tom took a big sip of his coffee before taking her hand and leading her around a patch of black ice. “You don’t know what you are missing out on.”

“I’ll take my chances. What about your family? Are they bundles of boundless energy just like you?” She turned to see Tom throw his head back in laughter.

“Hardly. They are normal bundles of energy. And my sisters constantly remind me I am nothing special.”

He gave her hand a squeeze as they finished up their coffee. Tom grabbed Tamra empty cup and walked to a nearby trash can.

“Sounds like my kind of girls.”

“You are never meeting them. I would never survive the onslaught.” Tom commented over his shoulder.

He noticed Tamra’s back turned to watch a group of kids have a snowball fight. His eyes twinkled as his gaze darted to the fresh snow in front of him.

Splat!

“EEEK!” Tamra squealed as a snowball hit her square in the back. She whipped around to find Tom bent over in a fit of laughter.

He didn’t see the snowball until it landed on his shoulder, exploding into shards of white.

“Hey!” Tom’s eyes narrowed as he shot off towards Tamra. “You’ll pay for that!”

“Only if you catch me!” Tamra ran as Tom barreled towards her.

They both made hasty snowballs as they ran towards the center of the park. Their throws going wide as they continue chase, Tamra lobbing snowballs over her shoulder.

Tom’s running background comes into play and his long stride helped as he gained on Tamra.

“Gotcha!” he triumphed when he made it within arm’s reach of Tamra.

His fingers grazed her sleeve, and he gained purchase on Tamra’s wrist. He whipped his arm to snap Tamra back towards him. She pivoted to face him but her momentum sent her straight into Tom’s chest.

“Aah!” Tamra clambered as she and Tom tumbled into a deep bank of snow.

“Oof.” Tom’s breath left him as Tamra landed on top of him. His hands shot out to steady her. “Got you.”

Tamra smiled down at him and Tom brushed her now snow soaked hair out of her face to gaze into her hazel eyes.

“Truce?” he asked not letting up on his grip on her.

She leaned down and kissed him. He used his grip to pull her closer, not caring if anyone saw or that his coat soaked with snow. They parted. “Truce.”

Tamra pushed herself to standing and offered her hand to Tom. He took it and stood. Tamra wrapped her arms around Tom.

“Tom?”

“Yes, darling.” Tom wrapped his arm around her waist.

“Have I ever told you…” she paused to look down at her boots. “… that I lie?”

Tom’s eyes widened as Tamra’s face grew into an evil smile and she shoved a hidden handful of snow down his shirt.

“OOoo!!” Tom jumped at the cold wet running down his back. His blue eyes flashed at Tamra and she took off running. “Never trick the trickster!”

“Loki can’t save you now!”

The two of them continued taunting and throwing snowballs until both of them were soaked to the bone and out of breath. They returned to the car, blasting the heat on the way back to Tom’s place.

“Brrr.” Tom exclaimed as he peeled his jacket off and then his sweater and shirt. “You fight dirty.”

Tamra stared as Tom stood shirtless and her pulse raced. “So do you.”

Tom took a step forward. Tamra shivered at the proximity of him. “You’re shivering.” He raised his hands to rub up and down her arms.

“Not helping.”

A whisper of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Does this help?” He tugged her into his chest.

His warmth bled through Tamra’s thin sweater. Her heart raced, and she felt Tom’s race and he pulled her into a passionate kiss. He huffed as he nipped at her lips. Tamra moaned against him. Their chests heaved as Tom pulled away, his bated breath fanning across her cheek.

“Better?” Tom whispered.

“A little.” Tamra whispered back. She stared into Tom’s eyes, his pupils blown and his lips hungry.

“How about a hot shower?” his intention clear by his tone.

She nodded. “Sounds… nice.”

Tom smiled as he kissed her again, more heated and more urgent. He led her towards the master bedroom, unaware of the notifications going off on his phone in his discarded jacket.

[shesclearlya3]

Grow As We Go

pairing: Xavier Plympton x Reader

word count: 3,538

warnings: au! in present time, mentions of drug use, overdose, angst, fluffy at times, no camp rw

disclaimer: i am in no way shape or form using the topic of addiction lightly or willingly romanticizing it. the use of heroin is a major problem in my state and my family has personally been affected by it. i lost family to this horrible epidemic and this has been a coping mechanism for me as i was too young to understand the gravity of the situation my family was under at the time it happened seven years ago. i also am not tagging due to possible triggers. 

*not entirely proof-read* *inspired by Ben Platt’s song*

You sat on the couch in your shared apartment, waiting for your boyfriend, Xavier, to come home.

It was a Friday night, and like most Friday's, you were supposed to watch movies with him and eat a ridiculous amount of takeout. You had rushed home from work, taking a shower and making sure you shaved your legs for specific events you knew would be happening later that night.

A box of pizza sat on the coffee table, now growing cold. Everything was set up, the television on Netflix, multiple blankets piled up next to you, and you wearing your soft pajamas and fuzzy socks. Xavier was supposed to be home from work nearly two hours ago. He had finally landed a small role on a beloved show, and his excitement about it was the cutest thing you'd ever seen. An eight-hour shoot soon turned into ten.

At least that's what you hoped.

You had sent him a ridiculous amount of texts and voicemails, your voice growing more and more concerned with each one. You went as far as to text your mutual friends, Montana, Brooke, Ray, and Chet, to see if they had heard from them. Nobody had heard anything, but the girls assured you they'd try and contact him in some way.

This wasn't like him, not showing up and ignoring your messages, you thought as you turned off the random episode of your favorite show you started playing. The characters made you feel less lonely. You stood up, slowly pacing the room as you debated on what to do.

Is it too early to file a missing person's report?

"Don't be stupid, y/n," you grumbled to yourself. "Xavier said he can't have his phone while filming."

Another hour had passed by. You had put the untouched pizza in the refrigerator, before going into your bedroom and taking one of Xavier's jackets. You slipped it on, inhaling his scent and feeling more at ease.

Your thoughts only became darker as the time ticked by. You lived in Los Angeles, anything could have happened if he wasn't at work. You had no idea how to call a studio and ask for an actor; for all they knew, you could be a creepy stalker. Your hands were shaking as you stuffed them into the pockets.

One thing that always lingered in the back of your mind was Xavier's past.

When you met him, it was just out of high school. Montana was your best friend for years, and she introduced the two of you just weeks after graduation. They had a little fling, nothing too serious. He was older than you by a year, and you instantly took a liking to him.

The first few times you had hung out, you never thought you'd one day become Xavier's girlfriend. First, it would be against girl code. Second, even though he was with Montana for a short period, he had the mindset of being unable to be tied down.

However, it didn't take long for you to uncover the truth.

Xavier Plympton was a softie hiding behind a facade. He always claimed he didn't need a girlfriend, and all he needed and could rely on was nobody other than himself. His arrogant demeanor attracted girls for the wrong reasons. If they wanted a true rebellious bad boy, they wouldn't find it with Xavier.

Just months after Montana moved on with a guy named Trevor, Xavier had shown up at your doorstep. One of the few times it actually rained in Los Angeles, his car had broken down, and you were the closest apartment to him. His blond hair was matted to his forehead as he smiled at you sheepishly.

"Xavier?" You frowned, pulling your blanket from your shoulders to pull him into your apartment. "Why are you soaking wet?"

"My fucking car broke down, and I got cold," he pouted as you locked the door. "I called for help, and the storm has them backed up, it's like a hurricane out there."

"You need to get out of those clothes, Xavier," you said as you led him to your small bathroom. "How long did they say?"

"I don't know, just a few hours?" Xavier shrugged.

"Why didn't you call me? I would have picked you up."

"Yeah..." Xavier grimaced, pulling his cracked iPhone out of his pocket. "I had another little accident."

You huffed a laugh, grabbing a clean towel and setting it on the counter. "What did you do?"

"I tripped and fell, it landed in a puddle, and now it won't turn on, this piece of shit," Xavier mumbled.

"Take a shower, I'll wash your clothes. When you're done, you still have clothes here from the last time you invaded my home." You joked, averting your eyes as Xavier slipped off his drenched shirt.

"I was drunk, and friends don't let friends drive drunk, y/n," he smirked at you. He had already started unbuttoning his expensive jeans when you slammed the door in his face.

When he was done, he came out and lounged with you on the couch. The same one that was now in your new apartment. You forced him to watch Heathers and yelled at him whenever he put his cold feet against your warm body.

Xavier used your phone to call about his car, and they said he'd have to come to look at it in the morning. He smiled at you as you rolled your eyes, granting him permission to sleepover, and you'd drop him off. This is what started your movie marathon traditions. And it's when Xavier kissed you for the first time.

Ever since then, it was like a poorly written romance novel.

You started dating after Montana assured you she wouldn't hate your guts. At the time, Xavier was taking acting classes, making money on the side doing mediocre jobs. You were just months short of getting your degree, and your current job as your primary source of income when you eventually moved in together.

Xavier slowly booked more and more roles over the years. He refused all commercial gigs until his agent eventually stopped offering them. Xavier was proud of his work and spent many nights holding you and telling you when he wins his first Oscar, you better be in the audience so he can show the world what keeps him grounded in life outside of the screen.

Xavier was arrogant about his fame to outsiders. In his inner circle, however, he knew that one day he would blow up. You believed in him, you loved and adored him, and all his accomplishments so far.

Those were the good times.

One thing that Xavier was never open about to anyone besides you was his history with drugs.

Montana had known he was a user when they met. The story was that his parents sent him to rehab after finding needles and a bag of heroin in his room.

But that's all it was, a story.

You remember the night perfectly. You were forced to work over as someone bailed on their shift, and like tonight, you texted Xavier and told him you'd be late, just to get no answer.

When you arrived, the living room was empty, and the house was dark. You called his name after setting your things down, seeing the light coming from the bathroom door. You walked to it, knocking gently.

"Xavier?"

You could hear the shower running and what sounded like quiet sniffles. You frowned, going to touch the handle when you heard his voice. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay, babe?" You questioned. Xavier remained silent for a few seconds, and you could hear the sound of skin against the tub as if he were sitting down.

"I'm fine, I'll be out in a minute." He called, his voice thick.

You decided to leave him be, going into your bedroom and stripping from your uniform. Xavier never liked to cry in front of you. He was self-conscious about it, he wanted you to know he could be strong for you. As much as you told him you hated it, you had only seen him cry a handful of times.

You laid on the bed in your bra and panties, pulling a blanket over you as the bathroom door creaked open. Xavier shuffled into your room, wearing sweatpants and his blond hair pushed away from his face. You could already tell his eyes were red as he put his dirty clothes in the hamper.

"The shower's free," he said, his voice monotone. Xavier refused to look at you. He crossed the room, sitting on the bed before plopping on his back, his head nudged your leg.

"What's wrong, Xavier?" You asked gently. You could smell his body wash, and you slowly pushed yourself down, so your heads were level. He kept his eyes closed.

"I'm fine, y/n,"

You tsked at him. "Your eyes were red."

"So? I got soap in them."

You rolled your eyes, "Don't lie to me, Xavier Plympton!"

"I really don't want to talk about it, babe." He groaned. You continued to stare at him until he opened one eye, snapping it shut when he realized he got caught.

"I had a long day," you whispered. "Please, tell me what's bothering you, Xavier. It's going to kill me inside."

Xavier stared up at the ceiling after he finally cracked. He told you what really happened when he was younger.

When he was 18, one of his closest friends at the time, Andrew, started to become heavily involved in drugs. Xavier initially tried to get him to stop, but one day he was stupidly persuaded to try some. You played with his hair as he quietly explained how it got out of control. Whenever Xavier was angry or upset, he would use.

And then, his friend died.

By the time his parents found him, it was too late. His anniversary had passed a few days before, and suddenly Xavier's sour mood the past few days made sense. You held him tightly as he went on to say that shortly after his friend's funeral, he left his home in the middle of the night and wandered to a park where he injected himself and passed out after stumbling around and hitting his head.

He woke up the next day to a man named Blake, who threatened to expose Xavier's drug use if he didn't repay him for saving Xavier in the park. Your heart pounded in your chest as Xavier admitted that he had made porn, specifically with other males after being extorted by Blake.

You didn't know what to say at this admission. Your heartbreak was not because your current boyfriend, who you've had sex with many times, slept with other men. That was Xavier's worst fear, you abandoning him or leaving after he kept it from you. Your heart was breaking because of what this disgusting man did to the love of your life.

"You don't hate me?" Xavier tearfully asked after you comforted him.

"I don't hate you." You confirmed.

Xavier finished by saying he got away once Blake was arrested for his actions. Xavier and countless other men, some underage, were freed from the monster, but some never fully recovered for the mental abuse they suffered.

"After that, I told my parents that I didn't want to end up like Andrew. I didn't want to die, I wanted to get better. That's when I went and got help, and I've been clean ever since, y/n,"

That was a year ago.

Which is why when you got the call from Montana, your heart shattered.

"They found him slumped over, y/n," Montana said tearfully into the phone as you ran to your car, tears threatening your vision as you climbed inside, gasping for breath. "They were able to revive him, but his parents are out of town, and they won't let me inside!"

"I'll be there soon!" You cried into the phone as you drove as fast as you could to the hospital Montana said they were at. She stayed on the line with you the entire time, but you were both dead silent.

You were out of breath when you finally met her, hugging her tightly as Trevor and Chet stood up at the sight of you.

"We tried contacting his parents again, but they're not fucking answering," Chet explained as he and Montana followed you to the receptionist currently talking on the phone. "None of us are his emergency contact, his mom called me and begged us to come here. They might be on a plane ride back."

"I don't know if I am," you breathed as you impatiently waited for the lady to hang up. "M-Maybe I'll tell them we're engaged, or married?" You whispered.

"Married, most definitely," Montana mumbled.

Chet answered his phone when it started ringing, before stating he was going to meet Ray downstairs and bring him up. You watched him go, feeling more tears well up as the lady finally hung up, typing away on her computer.

"Excuse me!" You gasped, hitting the desk as you all but ran to it. She jumped back, looking at your disheveled state before her eyes settled on Montana.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I've already told you-"

"I'm his wife!" You choked up, causing the woman to look at you. "I-I should be one of his contacts."

The woman slowly looked at your hands, seeing the promise ring Xavier had given you on your first anniversary. She sighed before looking up his files.

"Name?" She asked.

You repeated your name, almost crying in relief when she stood up, "Come on, Mrs. Plympton," she said. Montana watched as you walked off, unable to keep the slight smirk off her face.

When you approached his room, a doctor was just coming out. He stopped at the sight of you two, quirking an eyebrow at the lady as she quietly explained who you were.

"How is he?" You blurted out, not meaning to interrupt the nurse as she spoke.

"He's awake, his vitals are back to normal, but he is a little out of it, I'm afraid." He said before his eyes slowly trailed you up and down. "Mrs. Plympton, are you aware your husband is a user?"

Your mouth was dry as you answered, "Xavier had been sober for almost four years, I-I had no idea he was using again..."

The doctor slowly nodded, but you could still feel his judgemental stare as you shifted uncomfortably. "If I were you, I'd consider the possibility he may need to enter rehabilitation. The use of heroin has become quite an epidemic, if he has been sober for as long as you said, a relapse would seem rather unlikely-"

"Doctor Stephens, with all do respect, I do not believe this is the appropriate time or place," the nurse said, glaring at him as she gently squeezed your arm. "Her husband almost died. Let her see him before we discuss any further steps."

You looked at her gratefully, before noticing her last name was also Stephens. You hid your smile as you realized they were probably married.

"Very well, in you go," he said, before nudging you inside. As the door clicked shut behind you, you heard him mumble, "Sharon, in the workplace we are not-"

You slowly approached Xavier's bed as he tiredly glared at the television, playing old reruns of Friends. He whipped his head around at the sound of your footsteps, and a mixture of relief and remorse crossed his face. "y/n?"

You let the tears spill over as you slowly approached him. His blue eyes shining at you from the reflection of the television. He was hooked up to machines, yet he moved over for you to climb into bed with him. He let you sob into his hair, his own lips trembling as he silently cried.

When you both seemed to settle down, that's when you began to talk.

"What happened, Xavier?" You sniffed. "What caused you to relapse?"

Xavier remained silent, bringing a hand to wipe at his face. The only sounds you could hear were the beeping of his heart monitor.

"When Blake went to trial," he began, "The courts ordered all of our... Tapes to be destroyed," he sighed. "They were, except for one,"

Your stomach dropped as his brows furrowed, another sob bubbling in his chest, but he pushed it down. "It was the second video Blake forced me to make. It was of another kid who was younger than me and me. It was his first time ever having sex. Someone found it, or it had been stolen before the trial, I don't know. It was uploaded to the internet last night, and..." he squeezed his eyes shut as the need to cry suddenly became too much. "I didn't know about it until the FBI called me and informed me today. They took it down, but-"

"Oh my God," you breathed out.

"They don't know how many copies exist, they're doing everything they can to track down the person who uploaded it, but my life is so FUCKED up!" He yelled, more tears spilling over as he buried his head in your chest.

"H-Has anybody?..."

"I don't know, nobody has reported on it, my fucking Instagram hasn't blown up or anything, but my fucking life was supposed to start over, that was all supposed to be behind me." He said. "Some times, I can almost forget that it even happened. My life has changed so much in the past four years. I never had the urge to use again until tonight."

His voice was so broken and small that you almost didn't recognize it. You stroked his hair, hoping it still had the same calming effect on him like the many times before.

"You've come so far, Xavier," you whispered to him. "Everything you've been through, everything you've become is so inspiring." You started to comfort him, but he shook his head in disappointment.

"I'm too much of a fuck-up, y/n," he mumbled. "You don't deserve any of this. I don't deserve you."

"Don't you dare fucking say that!" You gasped.

"It's true, y/n," Xavier said. "Whatever happens because of this, I don't want to be the one responsible for ruining your life. It's going to get out what happened to me tonight, what that guy did, and what I did to myself. You deserve nothing but happiness and a great life."

"Please stop," you whimpered.

"If you want to leave me, I won't stop you. I-I love you too much to hurt you, y/n."

You squeezed him tighter, whispering assurances in his ear that you weren't going to leave him. You loved Xavier with all your heart. "I'm not throwing away two years of us being together over this."

Xavier cupped your wet cheek in his hand, bringing his lips to your forehead as you crumbled beneath his touch.

"W-We can get through this," you said. "Xavier, if people heard the story of what actually happened to you, your real fans will love and support you no matter what. What Blake did was a horrible thing, and now he is spending the rest of his life in prison."

Xavier nodded, but you could still see the hurt in his eyes. "They'll find out I was a heroin addict. Society doesn't care about people like me."

As much as you wanted to convince him he was wrong, you knew in a way that not everybody would be supportive of someone with an addiction, society could be unbearably cruel.

There was a knock at the door, and you both straightened up as two uniformed agents slowly stepped into the room. You immediately found yourself recoiling at the sight of them, more worry coursing through you as Xavier looked at them nervously.

They introduced themselves as partners with the FBI. Due to the ongoing investigation, no details of what happened tonight will be made public. Xavier wished for much secrecy as possible, not wanting any of this to get out.

"We are currently monitoring all adult websites and making sure no articles about this are being made public. The woman who found you is being cooperative and will not spread the word of what has happened, Mr. Plympton."

They stayed for about twenty minutes, explaining that Xavier was under their protection for the time being. When it’s time for him to discharge from the hospital, it will be at an undisclosed time and location, and they also informed you to not be alarmed if any agents show up at your doorstep.

After they left, Xavier was exhausted. You had since moved to the chair, continuing running your fingers through his hair as his eyes drooped.

"y/n?" He whispered.

"What is it, babe?" You asked.

"I'm happy you decided to stay."

You cracked a smile, "Did you really think I wouldn't have?"

Xavier didn't say anything but held a mischievous twinkle in his eye as you pressed a kiss to his forehead. You whispered to him as he slowly dozed off, promising him of a better tomorrow.

And most importantly, of your future with him by your side.

[heauxplesslydevoted]

As The Dust Settles (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Thomas Mendez x MC (Marissa Day)

Summary: Settling into their first year of marriage, Thomas and Marissa are prepared for everything life throws their way...or so they think.

Tags: @princess-geek @chetachisblog @dorishi-desu@hatescapsicum@annekebbphotography @drakewalkerfantasy@seriouslyices @zambazeus @loilko @blackcoffee85@randomchoicesblog @fortunatelywaywardsandwich@canknot@lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @senseofduties@badchoicesposts @ao719

As always, enjoy! And let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged.

~~

Six months into this married life, and Thomas and Marissa still find it to be extremely blissful. After swearing off of love after the death of his first wife, falling for Marissa Day was a complete surprise, but it’s something that Thomas is grateful for every single day. She’s a breath of fresh air in their stuffy little town, his solace, his source of comfort. And Marissa feels the same way about him. Thomas is the complete opposite of her ex in every way and sometimes, she wants to punch herself just to make sure she’s not dreaming and she didn’t conjure him up in her imagination.

They settled into an easy routine after getting married, thankfully able to avoid the growing pains of blending a family together. It helped that Luz and Ivy were best friends and now being sisters was the best thing on earth to them. Their mornings were filled with bustling energy, everyone getting ready to start the day, their nights ended with everyone gathering together around the dinner table, sharing stories about their day.

It’s a quiet Monday morning in the Day-Mendez household. The sun is just starting to rise, birds are quietly chirping, and everything is peaceful.

Until Thomas is woken up by a horrible wrenching sound. His eyes snap open and he turns to see his wife isn’t in bed next to him. “Riss? Is that you?”

There’s no response, so Thomas pulls back the thick comforter and sleepily crawls out of bed. He walks to the connect en-suite and finds it empty. 

Following the sound of the commotion, Thomas heads out of the master bedroom and walks down the hallway. The light is on in one of the bathrooms.

He finds Luz hunched over the toilet, throwing up while Marissa rubs soothing circles on her back.

Panic settles in his blood as he sees his baby crouched down on the floor, sick. “Lulu baby, what’s wrong?”

“Don’t...feel good,” Luz replies slowly.

“I heard her in here throwing up,” Marissa says. “And she has a fever.”

Thomas sweeps Luz’s hair away from her face and touches her forehead. She’s burning up. “Oh no. You think it could be a stomach virus?”

“I think so.” Marissa grabs a towel from the counter and runs it under some cool water. She places it firmly onto Luz’s head. “She can’t go to school like this, she’ll be miserable.”

“You’re right. I can stay home with her.”

“You have a huge case to prepare for,” Marissa says. “I can stay with her.”

“Are you sure? You’re still pretty new at work, I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

While Thomas and Marissa were engaged, she was able to complete her schooling and get her degree in social work. Right after they got married, she got a job working with the county, as an advocate for people leaving abusive relationships and connecting them to different available resources.

After her tumultuous relationship with Guy, she felt like it would be a good way to give back and help other people. She’s been there for 5 months now, and she loves every minute of it.

“I’ll be fine. I can take a sick day.”

“Okay.”

“I can handle it in here, you just go wake up Ivy and start getting ready,” Marissa softly orders. Thomas walks out of the bathroom, after giving Luz a soft kiss on the head. Once he’s gone, Marissa turns on the shower. “Why don’t you take a shower and change into some cooler pajamas. And once you’re done, I’ll get you some ginger ale.”

“And crackers too,” Luz adds.

“Of course. Ginger ale and crackers coming right up.”

Marissa leaves Luz alone in the bathroom to freshen up, softly closing the door behind her and she pads back to her bedroom. Thomas steps out of their walk-in closet once he hears her return. 

“Hopefully I won’t be in the office too late tonight,” he says, watching his wife plop dramatically onto the bed. “I’m handling a pretty ridiculous civil case right now.”

“Anything interesting?”

“Two greedy sisters fighting over their late father’s assets. They’re so ridiculous, it’s actually amusing.”

“Why can’t they just split everything down the middle?”

“Because that makes too much sense,” Thomas jokes. Marissa’s phone beeps and she blindly reaches the bed until it hits her fingers. “Who’s calling at 6:30?”

“No call, it’s an email,” Marissa answers. She scrolls through the message and chuckles humorlessly. “It’s the school. They wanted to inform us that there is a stomach bug going around and we should be cautious.”

Thomas snorts. “Well, they’re a day late and a dollar short.”

“Got that right.”

“”You think you and Luz will be good for the day?”

“Of course. We’re going to lay in bed, watching soap operas and daytime talk shows.”

“Sounds like you’re getting a vacation day.”

“Please, I wish.”

Thomas walks back over to their bed and braces his arms on either side of Marissa’s head so he’s hovering over her. He leans down and gives her a short kiss. “I don’t think I said good morning to you.”

“You didn’t, but it’s okay, we were pretty distracted.”

“Well, good morning beautiful.”

“Morning.”

He nuzzles his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling softly. She always smells good, like vanilla. “You know, all four of us could take a sick day. You and I can stay curled up in bed.”

“Are you trying to get out of work?” Marissa teases.

“Just thinking of how nice it would be to spend the day with my girls, and no crazy clients.”

Marissa rolls out from under Thomas and tugs his hand. “You’ve got a job to do, Mister Hot-Shot Attorney. Go to work.”

“Fine,” Thomas relents a pout. Marissa rolls her eyes and gives him another kiss, but before she can pull away, Thomas wraps an arm around her waist. “Give me one more.”

“You’re so demanding sometimes. I like it,” Marissa murmurs against his mouth. She leans into him, kissing him with much more fervor this time around, a hand reaching up to tug his hair.

Thomas grabs hold of her waist, pulling his wife even closer to him. He feels her shiver as he kisses up her jaw. “Don’t start what you can’t finish, Missus Mendez.”

“Can you guys stop eating each other’s faces for five seconds?” Luz asks, causing the adults to spring apart like two teenagers.

“Luz!” Thomas’s cheeks turn bright red. “Honey, we did not see you come in.”

“Come on, I need to get my ginger ale and crackers and I can’t reach the top shelf in the pantry.”

“Sorry sweetheart. I’ll be down there in one minute,” Marissa promises. Luz rolls her eyes, mumbling under her breath and walks away.

“We have to get a lock on that door,” Thomas says with a groan. “I’m tired of getting interrupted.”

“And the kids will still find a way to get in,” Marissa jokes. “Come on, go finished getting dressed. I’ll put on a pot of coffee for you.”

“You’re the best.”

“I know. It’s why you married me.”

~~V~~

Later that afternoon, Marissa and Luz head down to the grocery store. With Luz having an upset stomach, Marissa decided that it would be the perfect opportunity to make her famous chicken noodle soup.

She scans her list as they walk idly down the aisle. “Okay Luz, do we have our chicken?”

“Check.”

“Onion?”

“Check.”

“Celery, carrots and garlic?”

“Check, check, and check!” Luz exclaims.

“Perfect. Now time for my special ingredient. It is absolutely imperative that you keep it a secret.”

“What does imperative mean?” Luz asks.

“Super, super important. Do you think you can keep a secret?”

“I am the best secret keeper.”

“Good.” Marissa scans the produce section until her eyes land on what’s she’s looking for. Running over, she plucks a few ingredients and drops them into a tiny plastic bag.

“The secret is jalapeños?”

Marissa nods. “Yup. That’s why my chicken soup is better than everyone else’s. It adds a little bit of umph.”

“Awesome. I love spicy food.”

“Me too. That’s why you and I go together like peanut butter and jelly.”

“And Oreos and milk.”

“Perfect comparison, kiddo.”

They continue their stroll down the aisles, picking up different food items, happily chatting along the way.

So caught up with their conversation, their shopping cart accidentally bumps into someone else’s. “Oops, I’m sorry–” The apology doesn’t on her tongue once she realizes it was just Vanessa. “Oh. Hello, Vanessa.”

“Marissa, hi.” Vanessa plasters on a fake smile. “You weren’t at the PTA meeting this afternoon.”

“Sorry I wasn’t able to make it. Luz got sick, I’m sure you received the email about the stomach bug going around, right?”

“Yes.” Vanessa’s eyes flicker over to Luz for a brief moment. “Hello, little one.”

“Hi,” Luz mutters, never meeting Vanessa’s gaze. She didn’t like the older woman and made no attempt to hide her disdain. Marissa envied that about her, her lack of poker face. 

Instead of looking at Vanessa, Luz spots a small kiosk on the other side of the aisle. There’s an older lady passing out samples. “Ooh, Marissa, can I try a sample?”

“Are you sure it won’t upset your stomach?”

“It won’t, I swear.”

“Just one,” Marissa insists. Luz happily skips off, Marissa keeping an eye on her until she makes it over to the kiosk. When she turns around, she notices that Vanessa is still standing there, staring at her. “Did you need something?”

“Since I’m here, I might as well give you a synopsis of the meeting. We’re holding a fundraiser the school’s art department later this month. And since you were so...good with the last one, I figured you should run this one as well.”

Marissa barely had time to pull off the last bake sale. But with how busy things get at work, she definitely can’t commit to planning another bake sale. “I can’t. Work has me pretty swamped right now.”

“Surely your night shifts at that dingy little bar don’t keep you that occupied.”

Marissa’s eyes narrow at the dig. Vanessa knows perfectly well that she doesn’t work at the bar anymore. “I haven’t worked at Drafthorse since I graduated last year. You know that.”

Vanessa feigns ignorance. “Silly me, I must’ve forgotten.”

“You’re too young to be losing your memory, V. You might want to get that checked out.”

“Funny.”

“I can’t plan the bake sale, but you can put me down for rugelach again. And I can give a donation from the Mendez household.”

“Oh how nice, Thomas lets you use bank account.”

It’s no secret that the members of the PTA resent Marissa, for a multitude of reasons. But her marrying Thomas was icing on the cake. Not only did she snag one of Goldcliffe’s most eligible bachelors, he was rich to boot. And while Marissa isn’t one to flaunt her husband’s wealth, she’ll absolutely rub it in Vanessa’s face.

She just smiles politely. “My name’s on the account. What’s his is mine. That’s how this marriage thing works, not that you’d know.”

Vanessa’s eye twitches at the insult, but she recovers quickly, her icy facade slipping back into place.

Before she can respond, Luz rushes back over, a tiny cup in her hand. “Marissa, I got you a sample! It’s ravioli and it’s really good.”

Luz shoves the cup in Marissa’s face and the smell invades her senses. She recoils instantly and her stomach churns uncomfortably. She covers her mouth takes a step back. “Luz, get that away from me please.”

“What’s wrong?”

“That smell is–”

She can’t even finish the rest of her sentence before she turns her head and empties the contents of her stomach...right onto Vanessa’s shoes.

“My Louboutins!” Vanessa shrieks. “You’re going to pay for my these, you cow!”

Marissa groans and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, barely registering what Vanessa is going on about. She turns and glares at Luz, who’s staring back sheepishly.

“I think I got you sick.”

“Yeah, I think so too.”

~~V~~

It’s a few days later, and thankfully Luz recovers from her stomach bug and is able to return to school. Marissa is not so lucky, the virus taking her down swiftly and without mercy.

Her third day off from work, and Alma is over, keeping her company as Thomas is at work and the girls are at school. They’re sitting in the living room, curled up on the couch, watching trashy court tv. 

“Wait, wait, tell me the story again,” Alma says in between laughs. “You threw up on her shoes?”

“All over them.”

Alma’s laugh only grows louder. “Man, do you know how much money I would’ve paid to see that happen? Top dollar, Marissa. Top. Dollar.”

“Well, I have to buy her $800 shoes now, so I hope you enjoy the story,” Marissa grumbles.

Alma wipes a stray tear from her eye, a side effect of laughing too hard. “Trust me, the laughter and complete joy this story has given me is priceless. Easily worth the pair of Loubs. You are my queen for doing that do her.”

“It was a complete accident, Alma.”

“Sure it was. You don’t have to lie to me, Riss.”

“I swear, I didn’t do it on purpose. I got so sick all of a sudden and I couldn’t move fast enough.”

“What the hell type of superbug do you have?”

“Who knows. Elementary schools are a breeding ground for germs.”

“Maybe I should go home,” Alma suggests. “I do not want to get sick.”

“No! I will go crazy in this house all by myself.”

“Fine, I’ll stay. But only because you’re my best friend and I love you.”

“Thank you. You have carte blanche to the television and the fridge.”

“You really know the way to my heart. I’m going to get a snack.” Alma slides off of the couch and into her seat. “Do you want anything?”

“Saltines, please. And a cup of ice.”

“Coming right up.”

A few minutes later, Alma heads back to the living room, a bowl of popcorn, a pack of crackers, and a large cup of ice. 

Marissa sits up and eagerly rips open the pack. She stuffs a few into her mouth and she instantly regrets it. Jumping up from the couch, she runs to the downstairs bathroom and thankfully makes it to the toilet before she throws up on the floor. Her throat burns and her stomach clenches tightly from the exertion.

It feels like forever before she’s finally done vomiting–she’s sure it’s just bile at this point considering her stomach is empty–and it takes all of her remaining energy to wipe her mouth clean.

She knows there’s no way she can walk back to the living room, so Marissa curls into a ball on the bathroom floor. The room is spinning, her entire body is trembling, and she’s pretty sure she’ll have to spend the rest of her life on the floor because getting up is not an option.

“Are you alive?”

Marissa instantly recognizes it as Alma’s voice. “Barely.”

“Do you think you should go to the hospital? Because no offense, you look horrible.”

“No, no. I’ll be fine eventually. I just need to lay on this cold floor for a few more minutes and collect my bearings.”

“Are stomach bugs usually this horrible? Should you be throwing up this much?”

“I don’t know.”

“What if you’re pregnant?” Alma muses.

Marissa scoffs at the suggestion. “Alma, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not pregnant.”

“What, are you celibate?”

“I’m a newlywed, of course not.”

“Then it’s a possibility.”

“I can’t be pregnant because I just got my…” Marissa’s words falter. Holy shit. When was the last time she got her period? Wasn’t it supposed to be this week? Or was it last week?

“Oh my god.”