#i had to wait for the exact moment for the lightning to strike to click this shot. it took me many embarrassing tries 😪

[grapeszn]

i caught lightning on camera!

[tsumtsumrry]

Second Visit

the long-awaited heavily requested part two of Doctor's Orders

WC: 3.4k

warning(s): afab descriptions and she/her pronouns, language, casual dominance, sexual content (fingering and f receiving oral sex), extremely inappropriate relationship with gynecologist (remember this is only fiction!)

finally decided to finish the draft that i loved but's been sitting in a google doc for like months. i really hope you guys enjoy it. i’m always a lover of feedback. 🤍🤍🤍

Your chest is pumping rapidly as you fight through your nerves. Last time you were in this exact seat, you had no idea what was to come. And now that you do, it’s all you can think about. Truthfully since then, it’s all you’ve been able to think about. Day and night your head replays the image, sounds, and the feeling of him. The phantom of his fingers deep inside you, hitting every spot that you hadn’t known existed, tortures you every time you can get a moment to yourself. 

He’s your doctor. It even feels wrong to think about it, but something about it feeling wrong feels so damn right. 

You return to the familiar feeling of picking at your fingers to quell your nerves as your head and your body fight each other for what you should do next. You came here on a mission, you wanted him. You needed him. There isn’t even anything wrong with you, realistically you shouldn’t even be here. But it felt like you were going through withdrawal symptoms. His touch was like a psychedelic drug. The kind of feeling that leaves you feeling like you’re seeing the world through a kaleidoscope exploding with colors and euphoria. And since you’ve felt it once, you don’t think you can ever go back. 

The door opens and your heart drops, thinking it’s the lady coming out to call your name, but what you see is arguably much scarier. 

Dr. Styles, looking down at his phone as he holds open the door for the nurse behind him with his left arm. He smiles and a small chuckle leaves his lips as he reads whatever is on his phone, the dimples that pop in his cheeks nearly make you melt and you try your best not to look at him before he notices you. 

In all your nerves, you don’t realize your purse is slipping off of your lap. Before you can stop it, it tumbles off of your lap and falls to the floor with an audible crash. Your eyes fall shut in embarrassment and you open them just in time to see his head snap up in confusion and then soften in recognition. 

You nearly hold your breath as a sly smile graces his face and he walks over to you. As soon as he reaches you, he kneels so he’s at eye level with your stomach, using your knee as support, and begins to pick up your bag and the things that fell out of it. Even just the simple touch of his hand on your knee makes a zip of electricity course through your body right to your core. You take in a shaky breath and the lightning strikes in the same place twice when he looks up at you to speak, “Hi honey…back so soon? Everything okay?” His hand remains on your knee as he speaks, still kneeling before you as his piercing green eyes bore into yours. 

“I um…” Your brain fails to send the necessary signals to your mouth as you look at him and he frowns. He assumes that you might be embarrassed to talk about it in front of everyone else in the waiting room. His eyebrows furrow while the look in his eyes intensifies with concern, he clicks his tongue and pushes himself to stand up, “Let’s go talk in my office, sweetheart.” 

It feels like you’re operating on auto-pilot as he walks the two of you to his office, his hand resting on the small of your back. Your mind swims with the things he could do to you when you get in there, you wonder if he’ll use his fingers again, or his mouth, maybe he’ll put you out of your misery and let you have all of him. You’d take anything that he gives you, you’re that desperate. 

He sits you down on the chair in his office, and stands in front of you, maintaining that piercing eye contact. The deep, tingly feeling in your tummy swells when he offers you a comforting grin. “Wha’s the matter, honey. You know you can tell me, always.” 

It’s a certain degree of embarrassing how much you’ve thought about him since you’ve last been here. And you aren’t an idiot, it occurred to you that maybe the only reason you were so hung up on him was that you missed somebody else’s touch in general. So you ventured out, tried to meet someone and have a casual hookup, you followed through, and they disappointed. Dr. Styles felt like he was on another level, completely in tune with your pleasure and what you needed. He played your body as if it were an instrument and he was the most talented musician in the world. 

You don’t realize that you are lost in your thoughts until you hear the soft timbre of his voice again, “hm? Talk to me.” 

You take a deep breath and try your absolute hardest not to stumble through your words, but they almost feel like poison as they leave your lips. Shyness has always been a considerable part of your nature and it doesn’t help that the most intimidating man in the world is standing in front of you, staring intensely at you with those deep green eyes. “It’s just um…ever since my last appointment, I’ve been like–I think–”  you grumble in frustration and a wave of hot embarrassment tinges your cheeks. You look down at your worn fingers, breaking eye contact. You’re afraid that if you looked at him any longer you might die. 

A small chuckle leaves his lips and he sighs softly. Somehow, your heart begins to beat impossibly faster when he leans off of his desk to approach you. You keep your head down, unable to look him in the eye again and you attempt to control your shaky breathing. 

Your breath stutters and then stops when he hooks his index finger under your chin to regain your eye contact. Your eyes flutter closed briefly. God, you’ve missed that soft touch. It feels as if your body has finally come back to life after being dormant since you two have been apart. You have to fight back a sated sigh as his thumb begins to stroke your chin softly and you wish you dared to tell him to just fuck you already. 

His fingers squeeze your chin with a deliberate grip and your eyes quickly open. You’ve noticed that he enjoys eye contact, thrives on it. He likes to see you get nervous for him, he likes to see you fall apart. He derives pleasure from the way you can barely look at him without breaking, so he forces you to break. And truth be told, you love it. You’d break for him any day. 

“Look at me when we’re speaking, honey. Just breathe. Then be my good girl and use your words. You know I can’t help you unless you use that pretty mouth and talk to me, yeah?” He punctuates his words when his thumb brushes against your lip in delicate strokes. You honestly have no idea where he got the insane idea that you can even think, much less form words when he’s touching you like that. 

When you just stare at him, with a pathetic longing look in your eyes, his fingers come down to squeeze your chin again, only this time much firmer, “Speak. Don’t make me ask you again, sweetheart.”

“S-sorry I just…I’ve missed you.” Is all you’re able to string together, it sounds incredibly stupid out loud but you have a feeling he knows exactly what you mean. His eyebrows raise before they relax back down and his grip on your chin loosens back to gentle. 

“Oh baby, don’t apologize. You’ve missed me, hm? Mind telling me what exactly it is that you’ve missed?” his expression morphs into a teasing smirk as he rolls his lips inside his mouth. His eyes read like he knows exactly what you’ve missed, but he just wants to hear you say it. 

His gaze is intense as he reads your expression carefully, analyzing you for any signs that you might not want what he thinks you want. He traces his gaze from your eyes to your mouth, the delicate pout you wear almost makes him melt right in the spot he stands in. From the moment he saw you he thought that you were one of the most beautiful women he’s ever seen. It’s like all of your unique features perfectly coexist in a teasing harmony. It makes him weak. 

It takes a lot out of you, but you’re able to tell him exactly what you missed. When he hears you, his jaw clenches, he maintains eye contact and you force yourself to keep looking no matter how much your anxiety is screaming at you to look away. For a second you wonder if you’ve done something wrong with the way he’s just looking at you, making no move to touch you and give you what you need, but that worry is melted away quickly when he speaks again. 

He offers his hand out to you with a blank expression. Albeit confused, you place your hand in his. His dimples pop in his cheeks at your almost demure nature and he smirks softly, “Show me. Show me where it hurts, honey. Take my hand and show me.” His voice is smooth like toffee, filled with a syrupy heat that makes your panties pool. 

His eyes migrate to the silky smooth skin of your thighs, suddenly grateful that you wore a skirt today so he could admire your beauty and have easy access to give you what he knows you’re so desperate for. 

Tremors plague your hand as you slowly guide him to your throbbing core. The tension in the room is palpable, it’s so quiet that the only sounds in the room are Harry’s soft but strained breathing and your erratic breaths.

When his fingertips finally reach your clothed warmth he groans in appreciation. Truth be told, he missed you too. “Fuck, atta girl. So good for me, aren’t you?” Your eyes flutter closed in relief and you nod mindlessly. It’s incredible how he can completely remove any thoughts other than himself or his touch from your mind so easily. And he’s so casual about it too, so nonchalant about the way he pulverizes your brain and turns you into a brainless toy, just for him. 

“How many times have you thought about this since the last time, honey? How many times were you knuckle deep in this needy cunt wishing that it was me instead? Tell me.” His fingers brush against your entrance and he slowly pushes two fingers in, pulsing them against your spot as soon as he finds it just to see you shudder. The gruffness of his voice accompanied by the gentle mocking tone makes your brain melt even further, your eyes roll back and you hear him chuckle at your lack of response. 

“Mm, honey.” He mocks. “Already? S’already too much for you, baby?” you can feel him slipping his fingers out as he speaks, and the utter dread you feel knowing that the empty feeling you’ve been plagued with is going to come back makes you want to cry, and you know how truly pathetic that is, but you can’t find it in yourself to really care. He pulls his fingers out gently, bringing them up to his mouth to wrap his lips around them and suck needily. 

“N-no no, please. Please?” you’re too shy to vocalize exactly what you’re begging for, but you know he knows. Harry always knows exactly what you need. 

“See tha’s your problem. You’re not too keen on using your words. And we’re gonna fix that right now.” Without much of a warning, his fingers are back inside you. You choke on a harsh gasp that melts right into a moan when he begins to fuck you relentlessly with them, targetting your spot and ruining you from the inside out. His other hand comes into play when he places two fingers on your clit and rubs it in tantalizing circles.  

Harry’s knees land on the floor when his face becomes level with your cunt, he leans in and lets his eyes flutter closed as if he’s savoring the smell of you, “I need to taste you, baby. You smell so fuckin’ good.” 

A slew of rushed and needy pleas leave your mouth as you stumble over whiney moans, “please, Doct—” his eyes snap up to meet your gaze, and his eyebrows furrow in disapproval, “Harry. Please, Harry.” 

The tone of your voice when you say his name sends a zip of electricity down to his confined cock and a needy moan of appreciation leaves his lips as they finally make contact with your core, planting a searing kiss at your entrance. 

He groans like he’s relieved, like he’s finally getting what he’s been starving for for so long. You can’t help the way that feeds your ego. He’s been wanting you, needing you, yearning for you. “Tastes so good, baby. D’you know how good you taste?” he whispers. 

“Speak.” His other hand plants a small tap on your thigh, not hard enough to really hurt, but intentional enough to serve as a warning. 

“N-no.” You mumble. 

“No?” you almost want to cry again as he pulls his fingers out and that dreaded empty feeling returns. His eyes are locked on how wet you’ve got his fingers like he’s in a trance and you swear you almost hear him sigh in contentment. He snaps out of his reverie and looks up at you, when he sees a pout he shushes you softly and brings his fingers up to your lips. He taps them there once before you part them like the good girl he knows you are. His fingers slowly enter your mouth and you suck softly on them almost as if it’s out of instinct, “atta girl” he praises lowly.

 “See? So good.” He starts to nod and like his brainless toy, you nod with him. Taking in every cue of his praise that you can grasp. 

You don’t even realize his fingers are inching back down to your core until a gasp rips through your throat and they’re inside you again, his mouth back on your clit like it never left. He’s greedy as he devours you. He drinks you in and takes you like he needs it to breathe. Honestly, you’re not even sure he is breathing right now. But he doesn’t seem to care, he just keeps going, keeps flicking his tongue softly on your clit and fucking his tongue into you, holding your hip with one hand to make sure that you can’t get away. 

And last time, when it was just his fingers, it felt perfect. He pushed you just enough for you the feel that mind-breaking bliss that you’ve been chasing since your last visit. But now, with his perfect tongue and his perfect fingers making you feel so fucking perfect. It’s almost too much. 

“Fuck, Harry. S’too–too much.” 

“Mm-mm” He groans disapprovingly, “I know baby, I know it feels a little too good honey but you can take it. I know you can take it.” 

He starts to go harder as if you’re not about to explode and the sounds that leave your lips should make you feel embarrassed, but with every stroke of his fingers and his tongue. All thoughts of reservation are gone, and you just want to lose yourself in him. 

“Squeezin’ me so tight, honey. Gonna come for me? Been working so hard for it baby. Give me what I deserve. Give yourself what you deserve. Come on.” he rambles on and on as he pushes you to your peak, not offering you any kind of break from the way he’s ruining you with his fingers and his tongue. You’d think that he was the one getting head the way he was moaning against your core, the vibrations only increase the pleasure tenfold and you start to tremble through the sensations. 

And when it hits you, it hits you. You shake in an almost violent way, so much so that he has to manuver his hands to hold you properly so that you don’t collapse onto the floor. His tongue parts from you so he can stand up and he lets his fingers pulse inside you to help you ride out the intense wave of pleasure that has needy whines and pathetic whimpers leaving your throat, “atta fuckin’ girl. So good for me. You’re so beautiful.” he whispers out a bunch of sweet nothings as he leaves soft kisses all over any part of exposed skin that he can find, leaving the residue of your pleasure in his wake. 

You feel like you’re floating, like you’re laying on a bed of clouds and all you can comprehend is the pleasure still coursing through your veins, Harry’s soft voice, Harry’s soft kisses. It’s only now that you realize how much trouble you’re truly in, you don’t think you can go without this. It just gets better every time. 

“Sweet just like honey. My honey, so fucking beautiful.” He praises. A sated smile graces your face and for a couple of moments, you forget where you are. You forget that he’s your doctor and you’re his patient and you let yourself live in the fantasy where Harry is yours and you get to come home to those hauntingly beautiful green eyes every night. 

It dawns on you that this could very well be the last time, so you decide you’d like to make it count. 

“Harry.” you mumble, bringing your hands up to tangle in his hair which he groans at, he closes his eyes and smiles, his head following the movement of your hands. 

“Mm, yes honey?” 

You really cannot chicken out now. You know that if you do you’re going to regret it. You’re never going to forgive yourself for how you had the opportunity to fuck this gorgeous man and passed it up to live the rest of your life wondering how it would’ve felt. 

So no matter how hard it is for you to say, you force it out. 

“Fuck me. Please.” 

You almost regret it when it leaves your lips at the way he freezes up and immediately meets your pleading gaze. And then he smiles, which morphs into a teasing smirk, and you think you’ve got him, that is until he opens his mouth. 

“Sweet girl. My job is to take care of you. And I did, yeah?” Your heart stings a little at the rejection but you nod nonetheless, eager to please him, “don’t need you doing me any favors, honey. 

Your brows furrow at this, a favor? In what world would him fucking you be doing him a favor. If you had any less dignity you’d get on your knees right now and beg and plead for him until he gave you what you so desperately craved. 

“S’not a favor. I want it….so much.” you whisper that last part. He sees your needy pout and he mirrors your expression in an almost condescending way. 

“Are you telling me I haven’t taken care of you right, honey? Do you need more? Is that it? Doctor Styles need a lesson on how to treat his girl proper?” Theres a teasing lilt to his voice as he speaks, a dimple popping in his cheeks as he smirks and awaits your answer. You nod and he tsks softly, a gentle reminder for you to speak. 

“No. You haven’t and I really really need more.” 

“Hm. Tell you what. I’m not fucking you for the first time in my office. Ask a guy out to dinner first.” He watches your face as the small quip lands and a small chuckle leaves his lips as you roll your eyes, “but…I can pay my favorite patient a little house visit, and we can go from there.” 

His squeezes your hips with firm hands and drops his head into your neck, sucking a soft mark on the exposed skin, his hips shift against yours softly and a shaky breath leaves his occupied lips, “Can’t wait. God only knows how much I need you.” he whispers the last sentence as if he’s scared to say them any louder and your eyes flutter closed at the unspoken promise of how he’s going to take care of you again, and properly this time. 

He taps your hips once and leaves one last kiss on your skin, “I’ll see you then. Drive safe, looking forward to your next appointment, honey.” 

[dcbutinamrev]

“Please…I need you” for Ben/André

Of course! This is based off of and from the episode "Trial and Execution" (s3, ep. 10 in Turn: Washington's Spies.) and some of it my own imagination. I'm using a transcript of the episode to help me with this because I remember very clearly Andre and Tallmadge having a conversation in the carriage in the episode but I couldn't remember the exact words. If you'd like me to do a ficlet for your favorite amrev ship, send me a prompt with your ship and I'll try my best to make a ficlet of it!

***

Congress still refuses to pay me.

John Andre's coming here.

In exchange for 20,000 pounds, I shall transfer to you the plans for West Point.

Arnold's a traitor.

~~~

The accused, Nathan Hale, having been found guilty of espionage and treasonous conspiracy against His Majesty King George III, shall here by be executed as a spy on this day the 22nd of October, 1776. If the condemened has any last words. Let him speak now.

I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.

~~~

Major Benjamin Tallmadge shoots upright in his cot in his tent, his bright blue eyes wide and jaw slacked slightly. The bedsheets drape around his waist and he huffs and puffs as he sucks in gulps of air, blinking the dots he sees in his eyes. Still trying to catch his breath, Tallmadge clenches and unclenches his fists on the linen sheets as he glances around his surroundings. He begins to relax, his breathing much slower and calmer, as he realizes where he is. Tallmadge squeezes his eyes shut and bits his lip hard, hard enough for it to draw a small drop of blood. He swallows thickly and grimace as though a hand were clenching around his throat and it'd be difficult for him swallow. He lets out a shaky breath and blinks his eyes fast as he sits himself up agianst the pillows surrounding him. He feels his heart racing, fast as a lightning strike during a storm. He feels the hairs on the back of his neck tingle and his arms shake. His fingers twitches and he flops back down onto the pillows, his golden blonde hair untied from its standard tight braid.

He stares up ast the tent's ceiling, letting his arms drop and dangle on either side of his bed as he begins to be calm once more. His breathing now steady and his heart rate somewhat slowed, Tallmadge sits himself back up once more, running a hand through his hair as he lets an arm drape over his propped up knee.

It's quiet, Tallmadge thinks to himself. He frowns, swinging his legs around and grimacing when his feet touches the grass, still damp from the early morning's dew. He furrows his brows as he glances out at the small crack of the entranceway to his tent. Too quiet.

Tallmadge pushes himself up, straightens his bed and walks over to the wooden chair at the desk nearby where a couple of unfinished corrospondences are still laid upon the desk, his uniform draped over the back of the chair. Tallmadge huffs out a breath as he slips on his white shirt, adjusting the ruffled cuffs and buttons and tying his neck cloth and cravat rather quickly, his fingers fumbling over themseleves. He fixes his hair into a tight braid before slipping on his blue Continental coat.

Tallmadge gives himself a quick glance in the mirror and nods his head in approval once, his jaw clenched, before stepping out into the open, the flaps to the tent flapping behind him as he exits. He glances up at the sky, an overcast sky, and lets his eyes take a moment to adjust. Tallamdge jerks when he hears someone whistle, trying to get a horse's attention perhaps.

Tallmadge follows the noise until he sees General Washington and Colonel Alexander Hamilton along with the Marquis de Lafayette standing nearby. Tallmadge walks up to them, his back straight when he locks eyes with the General.

"Ah, Major Tallmadge," the General says, his voice gruff and smooth. Deep and raw at the same time. "Morning."

Tallmadge nods and bows respectfully before standing up straight again. "Morning, Your Excellency, sir."

"You do remember what occurs today, correct?" the General asks, quirking an eyebrow at Tallmadge expectedly.

Tallmadge grimaces and nods, swallowing hard as he remembers Hale. He licks his lips and grips his hands behind his back. "Yes, sir."

"We shall see you there," the General says.

Tallmadge nods again but doesn't reply as he watches the trio turn swiftly, their cloaks flapping along against the back of their legs as they disappear around the corner. Tallmadge closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath.

Oh, Nathan...

Is the last thing he thinks.

~~~

"Major Tallmadge," a smooth, elegant and rather light British voice says suddenly nearby as Tallmadge now stands next to a carriage, waiting. He ticks his eyes towards a man, a young man who happens to be in his late twenties to early thirties with smooth, combed back dark brown hair pulled into a tight ponytail, a braid behind his ear. A rounded chin and hooked nose, a thin smile and laugh lines on his cheeks. His uniform is clearly distinct, as it is a bright red indiciating his loyalty to the British. He smiles and nods once as he approaches Tallamdge. "Allow me to say that it is an honor to properly meet your aquaitance."

Tallmadge frowns, his brows furrowed as he presses his lips together. He swallows again and keeping his eyes trained on Andre with his jaw clenched, he forces a smile to appear and nods in greeting. Tallmadge steps aside as he watches Andre climb up the steps into the carriage and sits himself down. Tallmadge follows and watches a servant closes the door before walking around them. Tallmadge turns to face Andre once more. Andre grins as he pulls out a crumbled paper and charcoal and begins to sketch a rough line in what Tallmadge must think is the beginning of the subject's eye.

"Did you study portraiture back in Europe?" Tallmadge asks.

Andre ticks his eyes up from the paper and smiles thinly. "I did."

Tallmadge watches as he begins to sketch out the right eye. He bites the inside of his cheek, wondering what to say now.

"I wonder if you might indulge in my curiosity" Andre says suddenly, breaking the silence as the carriage begins to move. "Do you remember when you first heard my name?"

"Oh, I remember it well," Tallmadge says, keeping his eyes on the paper, watching the pieces come together. "It was a brisk Thursday, January, '77. Mr. Nathaniel Sackett, a friend of mine, he was telling me how he had managed to place a man within your inner circle posing as a Coldstream Guard.” He grits his teeth and curls his fists in his lap. “That man was later killed by a knife, as was Mr. Sackett.” 

Andre pauses his work and presses his lips together before glancing up at Tallmadge. “I would like you to accept my apology for Mr. Sackett. My orders for Lietuenant Gamble were to avoid violence at all costs.” 

Tallmadge eyes Andre before nodding once. “I accept.” 

A pause. 

“Though, I will not apologize for the punishment Lietuenant Gamble recieved of any kind,” Andre says. “Gamble knew well the risk of our particular business.” 

“I suppose Sackett knew the risks as well,” Tallmadge says.  I must say that he was quite impressed with the ruse that you concocted with Sutherland and Shanks.” A pause. Tallmadge scoffs mixed with a laugh. “ A master stroke, he would have called it.” 

Andre hums, dotting something onto the paper. “Hardly.” 

Tallmadge swallows, watching the man across from him. He bites his lip, seeing the twinkle in the dark brown irises, the sharp cut of his jaw, the braid behind his ear, the thinness of his lips, a blush pink. Tallmadge clears his throat, blinking his eyes. 

“I sometimes wonder if Sackett would have seen right through Benedict Arnold,” Tallmadge says, attempting conversation once more. 

Andre frowns and clenches onto the charocal. “Arnold was a faliure.” He looks up. “Culper is the master stroke. Seeing as I’m about to take a vow of enternal silence, who was the Culper contact in New York City?” 

Tallmadge narrows his eyes, clenching his fist and jaw and glances out the window, blinking his eyes. The vision of Hale before him, his Hale, his dear Hale, flashes right in front of his eyes before he could stop himself. He clearly sees the flaxen blonde hair, almost white, a glimspe of icy, cold blue eyes, the rough feel of pale skin against his. Tallamdge shakes his head befoer turning back to Andre, who has an eyebrow raised mostly out of concern. 

“I had...had a classmate in Yale College,” Tallmadge says, “by the name of Nathan Hale. I followed him into the army of ‘76. He was tracked and caught by Robert Rogers and...” Tallmadge lets out a shuddering breath and lifts a shoulder. “Subsequently hanged as a spy...” 

“And do you think his case and mine are alike?” Andre wonders. 

Tallmadge’s expression is blank, passive. “He did his duty for his country. You did yours for your king.” 

“Then I want you to know I see honor in both.” 

“Then you are mistaken.” 

Andre sighs and glances out the window, staring at his reflection as he watches the trees blur together as they roll by before glancing back down at the paper and smiles softly before glancing up at Tallmadge. “I didn’t do it for the king. I did it for a woman. That is the loss I regret more so than my own life.” 

Tallmadge doesn’t reply. He watches Andre fold the paper up and stuff it into his pocket along with the piece of charocal. He smiles thinly, a warm smily as an idea clicks into his brain. Andre reaches behind towards his braid behind his ear and grabs hold of the end of it. He pulls out a pocket knife and chops off a small piece before tucking the knife back into his pocket and grabbing Tallmadge’s wrist and placing the small piece of braided hair into his palm. He stares at it in shock and confusion before glancing back up at Andre. 

But Andre only smiles and glances out the window. 

~~~

Major John Andre climbs out of the carriage first once they have arrived at their destination, followed by Tallmadge himself. A servant slams the door shut. Tallmadge checks the ropes binding Andre's wrists in front of him before guiding him towards the tree where his fate lies. Tallmadge tenses as he appraoches slowly, swallowing the bile he feels rising up down his throat. He breathes shakily in and out as they march closer with each passing second, keeping his head up, back straight, shoulders sqaured, eyes narrowed and determined.

Andre turns to Tallmadge when they stop. Discreetly, Tallmadge clutches onto the braid in his palm. He can't seem to make his arm stop shaking. He swallows, licks his lips and turns to Andre. Andre nods reassuringly, a small smile on his face as climbs up the steps under the tree.

Tallmadge steps back between the Marquis de Lafayette and Colonel Hamilton. Hamilton glances at him worriedly for a quick second, which causes Tallmadge to clench his jaw and breathe in slowly, holding his breath as he tightens his grip in his palm. He wants to close his eyes, not watch as he Hale in Andre's place. But he remains strong and keeps his eyes trained, locked on Andre's.

Andre is given a white blindfold and he takes it. He stares at it for a breif moment, before ticking his eyes back with Tallmadge's. Tallmadge stiffens when he sees Andre giving him a small smile and a nod. He thinks he hears, "It'll be but a momentary pang."

That doesn't settle Tallmadge's nerves and fears. He presses his lips together, stands taller than before which causes the Marquis and Hamilton to excahnge concerned and confused looks breifly before returning to attention. Tallmadge tightens his grip on the braid still in his palm, helplessly watches Andre wrap the blindfold around his eyes. Tallmadge breathes in once again, holds his breath, and squeezes his eyes shut.

Please...I need you... he suddenly thinks.

"If the condemened has any last words," a rough voice declares. "Let him speak now."

Tallmadge squeezes his eyes harder, tightens his grip tighter and bites his lip hard enough for it to draw blood. His arms tremble, his fingers tingle against his skin from how tight his grip has been, he hears ringing in ears. He sees Hale before him instead of Andre, those piercing, icy, cold blue eyes, that pale skin, that light-blonde hair--almost white.

"I pray that you all bare me witness that I may bare my fate like a brave man."

There's a deafening crack and Tallmadge whimpers, breathing sharply in and out, trying to control his racing heart as he blinks his eyes open only to find that the world is smeared before him. He hears a voice calling his name, a French accented voice, the Marquis, out of worry and concern.

Tallmadge doesn't hear him, can't hear him due to the ringing in his ears. He unfolds his palm, his hand shakes, as he stares at the braid in his palm. He clenches his fist and glances over his shoulder where Andre was alive not but a moment ago.

Please... Tallmadge thinks, swallowing the lump down.

I need you...

[limenysnocket]

●The Blush Bet●

Pt. III: Our Love. . .

Summary: After their first non-official date, Taika can't get (Y/N) out of his mind. Every time he opens his phone, it's open to her number and a drafted text lays there and taunts him. He sees her at work and longs for her lips on his. There's never a perfect time to strike and it's all left to spoil until he's on her porch, love stricken, and knocking on her door.

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol, masturbation and pure porn.

Request: @honorarytenenbaum

A/N: My God, is it hot in here or is it just Taika?

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I saw her today, but a new light was casted on her and now I can't get her out of my head.

I always knew she was beautiful, but now she was gorgeous and she taunts me with that. With every step she takes, her hips sway and I swear my eyes must look like the copper in a an old bell, following her curves back and forth, whether it be when she runs or just walks fast past me.

Pedro has been asking both of us questions about the date, and every time I try to ask how she felt about it, he stops me, says he doesn't trade secrets, then leaves me hanging. Yes, I know the date was awful, putting her in that pink dress that I bought on EBay, but I said it was going to be horrible and I'm commonly a man of my word. Although, sometimes I promise a drama and just end up with a sick comedy most of the time. Dreadful, isn't it?

Just-- The way she looks at me, with her eyes all glittery. Maybe it's a translucent force holding me back from going over to her, grabbing her by the cheeks and smashing her lips on mine. I would beg for it... maybe I could, if she didn't mind.

No, that would be too childish... but she was leaving me no choice at this point.

I had betrayed the very rules that I had laid down on the date. She wasn't allowed to fall in love with me, and me and my snarky pride thought I'd be fine and come out of the date feeling free. God damn it, my ego is too big sometimes. I never knew that a woman could level me with her eyes in mere seconds. It happened once, but that ended horribly, obviously. Maybe this time, it will be good. It could be good. Maybe. Maybe.

We brushed shoulders today in the green room and it took every ounce of my being to not pin her to a wall in front of every one. Just one kiss. Maybe just one kiss would end all this, and my feelings could be extinguished rightfully instead of torturing me over one woman.

Like this morning, it had driven me insane. I had to cook my eggs with a hard on and stopped halfway through to deal with it. Because I still had my dignity left, I went to the bathroom to deal with it.

I dropped my boxers and stared at it for a moment, thinking of the reason why it was here, then I remembered. Her. (Y/N).

Images of her face entered my mind and before I knew it, my hand was stroking my raw cock. The images of her began to change, and now very lewd. She was screaming my name like it was the only word she knew and her body seemed to bounce in front of me with every stroke of my hand. If only it were real. If only I could actually simulate her warm cunt around me.

I stood in front of my sink, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed. My forehead glistened with sweat and I was no longer pumping my hand, but thrusting my hips into it. My free hand gripped the sink and my nails etched invisible lines across the marble. The image of (Y/N) still invaded my vision. Damn it, I was even moaning her name. This wasn't supposed to be the way I found out I was in love with her. I could be moaning any past girl's name or even a dream girl, but no. I tried. I tried so hard, but none of them worked, even in the slightest. I was still drawn to (Y/N) like I was attached to her at the hip. I needed her. I needed her bad.

After work and another wank I managed to get my shit together. Well, almost. So many texts were sprawled into my phone, so many "I miss you" notes and "I love you" sticky notes stuck on the island of my kitchen, idea after idea after idea, but I chickened out of every one of them in the end. I'm supposed to be working on the script, but I'll be damned if I let myself accidentally type "(Y/N)" as one of the names in the typing process.

I buried my face in my hands. She was only one call away. One call.

I picked up my phone and bit my bottom lip as it quivered. I didn't even know what I was going to say. Would I flat out say I love her? No, that's too straightforward. Should I ask if I could... Wait, she's home, isn't she? If I could tell her in person, maybe this feeling would leave. Maybe if I could steal one kiss, my heart would stop pounding every time I thought of her. If I just set my standards really high before I kiss her, I will seem underwhelmed and forget all about my feelings for her.

I took a shaky deep breath, nodding as I clicked onto the dial pad and called a cab. I was going to show up to her door, totally unexpected, and beg her to let me kiss her. If it needs to come down to begging.

It was only a mere lightning flash before I was at her door and my hand was raised in the exact same way it was before we came close to kissing that night. I wonder what would have happened if her lips touched mine. Would I be over her or would she be under me?

Thunder rumbled in the sky above me and I realized that I needed to knock on the door and get in fast, before my new Salmon colored shirt and grey pants got ruined. I sucked up all the courage I had and out it into three stiff knocks on her door.

I could hear shuffling around inside and my foot started to bounce. My cab had already pulled out of the driveway, so there was no going back now. My breath accelerated as the locks started to come undone on the door and my hands clenched and so did my heart.

The door slowly tugged open and there, just past the door, was the face I longed to see all throughout the day.

"I need to talk to you," I whispered hot and heavily, my mind silently taking note that she was only dressed in a massive Prince t-shirt.

"S-Sure, okay," she said in a very surprised and shaky voice. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wide and a little wild. I must have woken her up, perhaps. She offered to let me inside before the rain started pouring down.

"What do you need to talk about?" She whispered to me as I made my way into her living room, rubbing a thumb over the opposite hand's knuckles.

"A lot of things," I said, looking at all the papers sprawled out on her coffee table, notes taken everywhere. She was working over time. Why? I thought she enjoyed her days off. There was something else I noticed. There was a little glimmer of some kind of liquid on the couch and just by it were prints and marks where she had been sitting and/or laying down on the couch. It made me gulp. I must have caught her doing--... oh my...

"You, uh... You might want to sit down for this," I said cautiously and she scurried over and quickly sat down on the couch, her body partially hiding the wet spot. Now, I knew it was for sure.

I took a deep breath, standing only a coffee table away from her. My hands fiddled about. They'd be in my pocket one minute, then fighting each other the next with brutal squeezes. "(Y/N)," I said, my voice very hoarse, then I shook my head. If I was going to beg, I might as well do it properly. I went around the coffee table and got down on my knees in front of her. "I can't stop thinking about you..." I whisper to her. She seems to go into quiet shock, but she nods her head to tell me to keep going. "I've had you on my mind all day. I've tried to stop, but I can't. I fear that this is some sort of sick obsession that has grown ever since... the night on your porch." I gently clasp her hand in mine. She squeezes it softly and looks down at it.

"It's been the same way with me," she muttered, to my surprise. Then, she started reading my thoughts exactly. "Maybe if I had kissed you, this wouldn't have happened and our lives might have stayed right on track... how we used to be..." She looked down and so did I, at our hands as her thumb brushed over my knuckles. "Friends," she said finally, putting an end to her speech.

"I've had the same theory," I say aloud, and lift my free hand to brush a strand of hair out of her face. "Think it's still worth giving a shot?"

I watched her stomach rise and fall slowly, then our eyes connected again and she began to lean in. No need for verbal agreement, I guessed, since she admitted it. My eyes flutter closed even before our lips completely touch, and our foreheads are the first to meet. In the beginning, we're hesitant, but as we sank in closer and our lips met, we no longer had second thoughts.

The kiss was slow and absorbed in feeling; passion, remorse, need and frustration, creating an ungodly mix of emotions all tangled into one. I failed my own plan again and forgot to set my standards high, but even if I did, she would have met them, just ever so perfectly. She tasted of warm peaches and her bottom lip was like a velvet pillow caressing my own lip. She didn't even need to try to be a good kisser. The sensation alone was magnificent.

We both pulled away at the same time. I was still crouched in front of her and ducked my head down, fingers running over my lips and soft pants parting between them. My heart no longer pounded. It fucking swirled. And so did my stomach, apparently. Oh God, I was falling deeper and deeper in love with her right in front of her.

I suddenly feel her hands move under my jaw and she cupped it, lifting my gaze up to meet hers again, that adorable little look she gave. There was a silent pact taken, an agreement, really...

We both needed more.

I was the first to launch up and capture her lips, and this kiss was much rougher than the last one. We both tilted our heads and I slowly rose from my knees and got onto the couch. She laid back, spreading her legs a little to allow me to lay between them. The moment our crotches touched, however, I stopped. It was warm and wet. So much to the point where I could feel it through my pants. I pulled out of the kiss, my expression skeptical, then my eyes flickered to hers. She was looking away with embarrassment. When I had found out that she had been having her alone time to play with herself, I had figured that she still had something on beneath the shirt to at least answer the door. Short shorts or something... Alas, I was wrong.

To confirm my suspicion, I started to grind on her gently. The more I did so, the more I felt my growing tent get dipped into her heat. I had to see it with my own eyes now.

One of my hands, at one time planted by her head, slipped down to the hem of her baggy shirt and brought it up to her chest, exposing not just her heat but the curve of her breasts. My eyes glossed over and I unconsciously licked my lips. There it was. That SHE was. Glistening wet and beautiful.

"You really had some time to think about me, huh?" I grinned cockily. She smacked my arm and huffed a little, cheeks an alarming red.

"Well, if it makes you uncomfortable, we can just shut this whole thing down before it happens," she said and crossed her arms.

"Who said it made me uncomfortable?" I purr and get close to her stomach, pressing a tender kiss to it, before trailing more down, lower and lower. She panted and whined in anticipation like a dog in heat. Patience was the key, in this situation, and I took my time. During my morning masturbation period, I really do have time to think, besides about what (Y/N) might look like completely nude or dressed in something I might like, and I have a tendency of asking myself questions... questions like what might (Y/N) taste like.

I gently pushed two fingers into her slit, then part her folds, my eyes scan everything from her clit down to her hole. My God, everything about her... It drives me crazy. I dove in, flicking my tongue against her bud and that made her mewl my name ever so softly. I needed more of that. I wanted to hear her scream it.

I licked a fat, hot strip from the bottom to the top. I groaned. Fuck, she tasted delicious. She started to cry out as I ate her out properly. Sucking, licking and flicking my tongue across those deliciously sensitive spots. Her legs lifted up and rested on my shoulders and her soft thighs squeezed my head. I let out a soft groan and that seemed to drive her even more crazy. My God, this woman.

My hands gripped her hips and tugged them close, to keep her from squirming away. It wasn't long before she was moaning even louder and her fingers tugged at my hair harshly. My tongue started to thrust in and out of her, something that I hoped to let my dick do in a matter of moments, once she came on my mouth. I clung to her like crazy and pleasured her until she squirted, but even then I stuck to her, drinking up everything she gave me.

My chin was coated and glistening with her juices and I licked my lips free of her taste. I wanted more, but I also knew that she was waiting for the main show. She sat up and beckoned me forward with a curled digit. She first lifted off her shirt to expose everything to me. I started feeling a little bad, being completely dressed, but I didn't have to worry about that for long.

Her hands went straight for my belt and we worked fast together. I undid my button up and threw it off, along with my white undershirt. I smirked at the eagerness in her actions. She practically ripped my boxers off. I don't think I'll be getting them back after all this. Oh well. My thumb went to her clit once I had tossed everything off, but she grabbed my collar and tugged me close. "No more teasing," she growled hotly in my ear. That made me twitch with want. I nodded and took a deep breath, grabbing her by the thighs and dragging her where she was laying down in front of me.

I caressed her body with my hand and I began to kiss her neck, softly and slowly while I started to push into her tight cunt. She was so much tighter than I imagined. She was everything compared to my lubed up hand. She moaned my name into my ear and started to mewl for me. I let her adjust while gripping her hips tightly. I whispered soft curses into her ear.

I can't believe this moment was happening, that I was starting to pound into her wildly, just how I imagined I'd do it if she had actually been there, on my bathroom sink this morning to help deal with the "problem" that occurred. I should have kissed her a whole lot earlier.

I now bury my face into her bosom and kiss the skin between them while my hips bumped against hers violently and passionately. Never has desecrating someone's couch felt so good before.

Our sinful moans, nature and sounds filled the room. The couch rocked beneath our love making and our lips eventually met again. I could still taste her on the tip of my tongue, her essence. She didn't seem to mind. In fact, I quite think she found it to be a sensual aphrodisiac that fueled the fire in both of us. Her hands explored and unconsciously pleasured me, while my hips went wild and pleasured her.

I left little love nips with my teeth all over her body, claiming my territory. New territory. Man, Pedro is going to blow his top whenever he hears about this. Everyone is, probably, once it gets out on set.

"T-Taika~. Oh, fuck~," (Y/N) cried out and she pulsed and tightened around me. It made her start to thrust faster, giving her a burst of roughness.

"How close are you, love~?" I growl in her ear hotly. She only responded with hot moans and deep pants of my name. I needed an answer, so I smacked her ass roughly and massaged it by digging my fingers into it. She cried out sharply and moaned a weak, breathy, "Close~!"

"Good~," I groaned and bit down roughly on her skin again. I started thrusting faster and faster, bringing her closer and closer to the edge. I could feel it.

Oxygen became less and less of a priority the more we made love and the softer our actions became, all the way up to the peak and that's where our true feelings sparkled the most. I pressed my sweaty forehead against hers as she released on my six inch, then I had to pull it out and coat her thighs with my essence. I let my body sink and the only thing that filled the room was our soft pants of each other's names.

"Won't leave me hanging next time I try to kiss you again, right?" I hum softly and wink at her.

"Of course~," (Y/N) whispered back and made me smile as she leaned up and kissed me, her fingers curling into my hair.

What a woman...

[seagreen-meets-grey]

When Lightning Strikes Ch. 11

When your life is nothing but a cloudless sky, lightning can come and strike you so unexpectedly, you won’t even know what hit you.

Or: When Hiccup and Astrid meet, it is as if lightning strikes.

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4] [Chapter 5] [Chapter 6] [Chapter 7] [Chapter 8] [Chapter 9] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] [Chapter 16] [Chapter 17] [Chapter 18] [Chapter 19] [Chapter 20]

Crossposted on ao3 and ff.net

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Astrid’s energy level was on an invincible high. Even after riding her mom’s bike home at full speed, she felt like she could climb a mountain, run to the South Pole and back and swim through the Pacific Ocean, with a cherry on top. She even skipped a few steps on the way from the garage to the front door.

In the entryway, she tripped over a pair of shoes and bumped her knee on the coatrack. But even the sharp pain and brief frustration couldn’t dampen her mood. Whatever restlessness she might have felt in the past year and a half, it suddenly seemed insignificant, dumb even. Because everything was right with the world today, the spark of energy still pumping through her veins, even though all she’d done was bike to the park and meet a friend.

Him. Hiccup. Her biggest what-if. The only person who’d been able to distract her from everything that’d been weighing her down lately. She wanted to turn around and run back, just for the thrill of the feeling. She felt like she was an addict and he was her energy source, loading her cells with electricity.

Humming contentedly, she slipped out of her sneakers and walked into the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Her mother was just packing her prepared late lunch into her bag, ready to leave for work. She looked up when her daughter entered the room.

“Hello, sunshine, what are you so happy about?”

“Oh, nothing specific,” Astrid told the cupboard when she reached for a clean glass. “It’s just a good day.”

“Where have you been? During all the hurrying and yelling for a tire pump I didn’t get a chance to ask.”

“Met with a friend in the park.” A new wave of energy made her hop onto the counter and ignore the chiding look from her mother. It wasn’t like she was getting dirt on anything; all she did was spill some water on her pants.

“I’m glad to see your mood has improved so much lately.” She pulled her daughter off the counter, overlooking the eyeroll she received.

“One can’t always be a gloomy Gus, right?”

“Speaking of – are you finally telling me what’s been going on with you?”

Astrid crossed her arms. “Just some female stuff. Aren’t you late for work?”

A quick glance at the clock on the wall made her mom’s eyes bug out of her head. “Oh, dear!”

As her mother was grabbing her keys, Astrid pointedly sat back on the counter, waving goodbye as Wilma rushed to the door, put on her shoes in record speed and bumped her knee on the coatrack. Then she was gone, the sound of her car’s engine fading in the distance.

Astrid took her time drinking her glass of water, swinging her legs back and forth, feet bumping into the counter like the beat to her own song. Humming various melodies, basking in the sunlight shining through the kitchen window, she found herself drifting off into a daydream. A very self-indulgent one. One where she could just rearrange her life so she had nothing to worry about anymore.

The chime of her phone shook her out of her little perfect fantasy and she almost rolled her eyes at herself for how silly her thoughts were. Dreaming too much about unrealistic notions was only a waste of time, especially if one could somehow achieve their dreams by actions instead.

She hopped off the counter and, while texting her colleague back that she could take over his shift the next day, made her way into her bedroom to grab her swimming bag. A short drive and change of clothes later, she dove into the pool and cut through the water like she was part of it.

On her way back home, right as she was singing along to Guns N’ Roses, her phone interrupted the song with a call. Glancing at the radio display, her lips curled into a smile when she saw who was calling and she tapped a button on her steering wheel.

“Hey there,” she greeted.

“Hi,” it came out of her speakers a little unclearly, static in the background that sounded familiar.

“Are you driving?”

There was a small pause. “What? Sorry, I didn’t get that.”

“Are you driving?” she repeated a little louder.

“Yes, sorry. My car’s a piece of shit.” He was almost screaming.

“Are your windows down? It sounds like-“

“What?”

She groaned. They were getting nowhere like this. “Hiccup, can you hear me?” she shouted.

“Yes.” The background noise faded a little bit. “I’m in front of a red light, the engine’s quiet, now’s your chance.”

“Mine? You’re the one who called.”

“Right… Oops, yellow light.” The noise was back immediately.

Halting in front of a traffic light herself, Astrid grabbed her phone and quickly typed a message before an impatient honk behind her notified her that the line of cars in front of her was moving.

“Geez, calm down, jackass,” she mumbled and accelerated.

“WHAT?” It almost made her laugh this time. This was terrible.

“NOT TALKING TO YOU!”

That exact moment, the noise faded again. “You don’t have to scream, you know,” Hiccup joked.

“Just be glad I can’t hit you right now.” Before he had a chance to answer and be cut off by his car again, she kept talking. “You know what? I just texted you my address. If you want, you can come by and we can talk in a normal volume like normal people.”

“Define normal.” He chuckled and the noise picked up again. “But um… Yeah, yes, I can do that, I can… Yes. Um… See you in a few then, I guess?”

“Okay, great!” she shouted one last time before the call ended and Axl Rose continued singing about rain in November.

She made sure to be home first. She had just enough time to hang her swimsuit and towel in the garden to dry, kick her dad’s smelly old slippers far underneath the couch and check if there was toilet paper and soap in the guest bathroom, before the doorbell rang.

She made iced tea and they sat on the couch.

“So why did you call me earlier?” she asked, catching the straw between her teeth and taking a sip.

“Oh, ah…” Hiccup fidgeted around a bit, settling on sitting with one leg crossed under him, the other dangling off the couch. “I just… I was wondering… What your favorite color is?”

“That’s why you called me?”

He shrugged, leaning one elbow next to him on the back of the couch. His smile was a tad awkward, as if he didn’t quite know how to explain himself. “Yeah, see, I was on my way home and there was nothing good on the radio and I didn’t have my CDs and I was thinking and you know how I draw for a living? And I can’t exactly recall my train of thought but it ended at favorite color station and then I realized I never asked you what it was, your favorite color, I mean–”

“It’s blue,” she interrupted his rambling with a fond smile.

The hand holding his iced tea stopped midway through gesticulating. “Just blue?”

“I also like gold, but more the soft gold tones, not the flashy ones. But mostly blue.”

He nodded, thoughtful, as if this information was some kind of clue for a puzzle.

“What do you think mine is?” he then asked, brows still furrowed in thought, waiting for the last puzzle piece to click, or something.

“You want me to guess your favorite color?”

“Yeah, I… I’m curious about something.”

She took a few long sips of her iced tea, studying him intently. How should she guess what his favorite color was? Was he wearing it right now? His shirt was black with print in several colors. His jeans were blue, his shoes dark brown with olive green accents. She didn’t have a clue.

When she met his eyes again, which were observing her as if they were trying to read her thoughts or maybe steer them in the right direction, a sudden feeling overcame her. It was strangely familiar, accentuated by a certain smell pulling at the edges of her mind for the fraction of a second. She was still trying to make sense of that when he opened his mouth to say something, but she beat him to it.

“The forest. All the colors you find in the forest. Dark green, rich natural green, dark and light brown, maroon, autumn colors.”

He was silent for a moment before a wide smile lit up his eyes.

“Wait, was that correct?”

He nodded. “All of it.”

“No way! You’re bullshitting me.”

“I swear that I’m not!” He held up his hands.

“Seriously?! How the hell did I guess that right?” She unconsciously leaned closer, as if an invisible rope was drawing her in. “You must have told me that once before!”

“I didn’t! Just as you never told me yours before now, but I immediately guessed it right when someone asked me about it recently.”

Astrid was still having a hard time coming to terms with her one in a million guess. What was this, some kind of uncanny connection? An elaborate prank of sorts? A lottery win? It took her a second to register that the gears she heard creaking in her head were, in fact, a key turning in the front door’s lock. A quick glance at the clock made her hopes that it was her dad returning from work early evaporate into thin air. Because her mother was the one who knew certain things. And certain faces.

Not blind to the sudden twist of panic on her face, Hiccup laid a not-helping hand on her knee. “Are you okay?”

Shuffling in her seat until she reached the spot on the couch furthest away from him, she nodded as casually as possible. “Sure.”

He’s just a friend, she told her rapidly beating heart, feeling almost twenty years younger, caught with her fingers in the chocolate pudding in the middle of the night. Just a friend, just a friend, just a friend, just a friend, just–

“Oh, hello!”

–a friend…

“Hey… Mom.”

Hiccup turned around, meeting her mother’s eyes. Astrid watched her reaction closely. At first, a curious intake of the face before her. Then, the slight narrowing of her eyes, a slowly raising eyebrow, culminating in the most harrowing anxiety-inducing kind of recognition Astrid could imagine.

“Mom, you remember Hiccup?” She sent her mother silent warning thoughts that didn’t seem able to penetrate the awkwardness she could practically see settling around her friend.

“I do,” Wilma said, gaze flitting between her daughter and the young man she remembered thoroughly confounding said daughter’s emotional state not quite so long ago.

“Nice to, er, nice to see you again, Mrs. Hofferson,” Hiccup greeted, shooting Astrid a wide-eyed panicked look.

“HICCUP, LET ME SHOW YOU THE HAMMOCK,” she all but shouted and grabbed his wrist, only to draw back immediately as the skin contact shot an electrical shock up her arm. Not letting that derail her escape attempt, she reached for his elbow and pulled him from the couch, making a bee-line for the garden door.

He gave a last awkward wave towards her mother before most willingly following her away from this encounter.

In a corner of the garden, a comfy hammock hung between an apple tree and a plum tree. She let herself fall into it backwards, sprawling her limbs for a second before making herself comfortable and patting the space next to her. Hiccup gingerly sat down, trying to leave some space between them, but the hammock wasn’t big enough. Slowly, gravity pulled him back towards the middle of the cloth, until their shoulders and hips were touching. Astrid didn’t complain.

“So… That was…” he started, but before he could say the word ‘awkward’, she interrupted him.

“How’s Toothless? How does he deal with having to wait for his dinner a little longer today?”

“Oh, he’ll live. Besides, I’m pretty sure he knows how to open the bag of dry food I’ve stored on the highest shelf.”

When he continued to talk about his cat, she mentally heaved a sigh of relief. She really wanted to avoid talking about why him meeting her mother again had been awkward, because then she’d have to acknowledge that there’d been something to talk about, and she’d rather not open that can of worms. Ever. So she just started idly rocking the hammock back and forth, pretending the motion was the reason for the pleasant fluttering in her stomach.

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Wilma Hofferson liked to spend the end of a workday on the couch, newspaper or a magazine in hand and a pot of tea on the table. Sometimes, when her husband came home early, he’d join her, and they’d chat about their day or sit in comfortable silence, passing over parts of the newspaper every once in a while. It was her favorite way to relax and wind down after a stressful day.

Today, however, she was having trouble concentrating on the latest news from the sports industry and the discourse surrounding politics. The tea on the couch table was already cold and the muscles in her back wouldn’t quite react to the pillows.

One of the windows stood ajar and she could hear occasional bouts of laughter and exclamations waft over from the other side of the garden. For the past week or two, she’d been worried about her daughter. It was obvious that there was something bothering her, something serious she refused to talk about, or even acknowledge. And Wilma hated it, hated not knowing what was going on, what was causing her child such inner turmoil.

Now, however, it seemed the most important piece of the puzzle had appeared on the very couch she was sitting on right now. The urgent looks Astrid had thrown her and her escape into the garden only magnified Wilma’s suspicion that her daughter was, in fact, not exactly done with the topic of Hiccup Haddock. And even if the two ultimately were just friends, she still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to the situation than Astrid was letting on.

Her thoughts were interrupted by sudden loud voices approaching the door to the garden, a discussion playing out between the two entering the living room. If she hadn’t had her daughter’s entire life worth of time to learn to distinguish between her girl’s angry and her daring, competitive facial expressions and body language, her initial assessment of the scene before her would have been a tantalizing fight between lovers. The grin tugging on the boy’s lips, however, only amplified the rays of playful banter shining off the pair.

Astrid caught Wilma’s look. “What?”

“Nothing, I’m just curious what this is about.”

“He thinks I’m being a coward.” Astrid jutted a finger in Hiccup’s direction.

“What?!” he immediately exclaimed. “I never said that, when- when have I said that? Didn’t you hear me? I said you’re crazy and you shouldn’t do it. I didn’t say that you wouldn’t.”

“That’s right, because I would. And I will.” She crossed her arms, nothing but daring determination written across her features. Then she walked away towards the kitchen with the same energy, Hiccup hurrying after her.

“No, Astrid, don’t actually do it!”

Now that the two were out of sight, Wilma strained her ears to further hear their conversation, trying to understand what was going on without going after them like a parent making sure their child didn’t do anything stupid. Although, in this particular case, that didn’t sound like such a bad idea.

She could hear the sounds of body parts colliding with furniture or the occasional other body part, as apparently a scuffle broke out, accompanied by the occasional giggle or huff. Something clattered to the ground.

“Ha!” Astrid seemed to have won the scuffle.

“Astrid, no, put that away!” There seemed to be more wrestling, followed by a groan of pain from Hiccup and a stifled, “Bad Astrid!” According to the lack of more jostling, he had given up taking away whatever she was crinkling in her hand.

“I’m gonna do it.”

“Astrid, no, I was joking earlier! Don’t actually do it! Don’t- No- Astrid- I will tell your mother-“

“Cheers!”

There was a beat of silence.

“Oh my god, she actually did it.”

Cries of disgust rose over his muttered expression of awe and disbelief alike, then spluttering.

Muffled by something in her mouth, Astrid’s words were barely discernible. “Fuck, tha’sh dishgushting! An’ sho dwy!”

Someone turned on the sink and presumably filled a glass with water.

“Don’t swallow it, spit it out. I’m sure eating it wouldn’t be good for you.” The amusement in his voice was unmistakable.

Sounds of spitting and gurgling filled the pause before a triumphant Astrid spoke again. “Told you I’d do it.”

“Were you like that during High School?”

“Oh yeah. Sometimes even worse.”

He chuckled, somewhat softly. “High School me would have been crushing on you so hard.”

Silence. Wilma caught herself holding her breath, almost rooting for something to happen. But after a minute of quiet, there was only a loud sneeze and more exclamations of disgust.

“EW! That stuff is so sticky and dry at the same time!” More water ran through the sink.

“You don’t say! What did you expect?”

Wilma couldn’t hold still anymore. She made her way over to the kitchen, where she found one of them spluttering into the sink and the other leaning against the counter right beside her, arms crossed, shaking his head with a grin.

“What on earth are you doing in here?”

Slightly startled by her sudden appearance, the pair looked up. There were traces of a white powder on Astrid’s chin and shirt.

Hiccup’s voice sounded deadpan, but his eyes shone with amusement. “She bet me she’d eat a whole sachet of baking powder.”

Wilma’s eyebrows climbed up to her hairline. “Do I need to know why?”

“No, mom. You really don’t.” Astrid rolled her eyes the same way she used to when she was a kid and her parents interrupted her mid-playdate. Or when she was an ambitious teenager and someone brought up the topic of boys. Or when she was in college and tried to vehemently deny that she was not sleeping with that gorgeous new ‘study buddy’ of hers. “We’re just messing around, don’t worry, I’m old enough not to break the kitchen.”

Astrid threw her a look and Wilma could only decipher the message it carried through mother-child-telepathy.

Don’t even start, it said, we’re just friends doing stupid friends stuff.

Wilma wasn’t convinced, judging by the pair’s body language, even if unintended. They seemed to gravitate towards each other. If one moved a shoulder, the other changed the angle of a foot. If one ever so slightly leaned in another direction, the other followed. There was always a part of them angled toward the other. Two magnets. She wanted to think it had been the same with Eret, but she had to admit she’d never paid enough attention to notice.

After one more gulp of water and a last disgusted shudder, they left the room, leaving a trail of electricity in the air, akin to the remnants of a summer storm.

She was extraordinarily stubborn, that girl. If only she were less tenacious with herself.

_______________

Astrid watched his car disappear down the street before she turned and headed back into the house, feeling content and giddy at the same time. The cheerful smile on her face, however, disappeared as soon as she entered the kitchen and found her mother waiting for her.

Preparing herself for the imminent interrogation, she took a wet cloth and cleaned the rest of the baking powder off the counter and threw the empty paper sachet in the trash. She didn’t have to wait long.

“So we’re eating baking soda now to impress boys?”

“It wasn’t baking soda; it was baking powder.”

“And?”

“And I didn’t do it to impress anyone, it was just a stupid dare!”

Her mother sighed. “Astrid-“

“No, don’t start with that tone. I told you, everything’s fine, and I met Hiccup by chance a few days ago. We’re just friends!”

Wilma crossed her arms. “That’s not what I saw.”

With a huff and a little too much force, Astrid put the empty water glass into the dishwasher, and it dangerously clinked against a mug and a saucer. “Whatever you saw, it’s not what you think. We didn’t do anything.”

“I am not trying to chastise you.” Her mother came closer and stretched a hand out to her, but Astrid turned away, leaning against the kitchen table. “I just want you to talk to me about what’s going on with you, and don’t you say that there is nothing, because I can sense that there is!”

Astrid huffed again. “If there was something for me to talk to you about, then I would tell you.”

“Okay, then don’t.” Astrid winced. She could tell her mother was losing her patience. “Keep bottling everything up until it breaks you from the inside. Keep pushing away the people that want to help you be happy. And please, Astrid Hofferson, keep denying everything to yourself and stay miserable!”

“Like I said,” Astrid whispered, suddenly feeling queasy, “there is nothing.” Her phone chimed in her pocket with a familiar tune. “And now excuse me, I have an online date with Ruffnut.”

Ignoring her mother’s disappointed expression, she turned and ran up the stairs to her room, closing the door and leaning against it for a few minutes. Her stomach clenched itself together and she concentrated on breathing until it calmed down.

She banished the conversation with her mother from her mind, changed into her sweatpants and deliberately put on one of Eret’s old hoodies. Then she crawled into bed with her laptop, opened Ruff’s chat and checked her phone while she waited for her friend to come online.

There was one new message and it sent another jolt threw her stomach. It was Hiccup, asking her if she wanted to come to Raven Point forest on Saturday, just for a little nature quality time. With a fluttering in her chest and a still queasy stomach, she texted him yes.

Just when she sent the text, a chat window popped open on her laptop’s screen, followed by an incoming voice call.

Twenty minutes later, after Ruff told her every single detail about her family vacation in Spain so far, including an in-depth analysis off all the butts and abs she’d seen at the pool of her hotel until now, they switched from shooting enemies online to sharing a screen and playing The Sims.

“…so he offers her the rose and she takes it, sniffs it good, and winks at him. Poor Tuff is in waaaay too deep at this point.” Ruffnut cackled, finishing her story about her twin brother’s affair with a lady who stayed in their hotel as well and was almost ten years older than him. It was kind of hilarious how he hadn’t really planned on going through with anything, but then he’d found himself in the situation and hadn’t backed out. And now he was in way over his head. But knowing the twins, Astrid could only imagine this ending in absolute chaos, and couldn’t wait for the full story once they came home.

“I’m almost done with the Sim, how far along are you with the house?” Once they were both done with their creations, Astrid would upload her character for Ruff so she could share her screen and they’d reign over it together in her built house. It was how they’d been doing it since middle school.

“Almost. Still deciding between a garden of cow plants and a dungeon.”

“Choose the cow plants and we’ll have the Sim feed only every second one,” Astrid suggested while clicking through her Sim’s wardrobe options for formal wear. On a whim, she had made her character small and chubby, with very short and spiky platinum blonde hair, gray eyes and the most ugly nose and ears she could create.

Ruffnut burst out laughing once she saw it. “Hot. Almost like Eret.”

Astrid snorted at that. “Uncanny resemblance.” And yet it wasn’t even Eret she’d tried to steer away from while designing the Sim. But Ruff was right, in her effort to do just that, she’d also created a non-Eret. All the better.

Two hours later, the guy was still alive and kicking, despite the hungry carnivorous plants in his garden and the plenty fire hazards Ruff had installed in his house. He had even found love in one of his neighbors, after spending comparatively little time with her.

“Sims logic,” Ruff sneered. “As if you can fall in love after one ten-second conversation about light bulbs. And get married right after.”

Astrid chose not to comment on that. She shifted in her bed, sitting up straight again so that her laptop didn’t sit on her stomach so much, suddenly feeling queasy again. She’d probably accidentally swallowed some of the baking powder.

Her thoughts drifted to Saturday. She hoped the weather would be good, but after these weeks of sunshine and temperatures almost too high for May, she wasn’t worried. She could already smell the beginning of summer in the woods, see the sunlight catching in–

“Yo, jackpot!” Ruff’s voice tore her from her daydreams.

“What? What happened?”

“Weird neighbor girl got knocked up!”

The warm feeling in Astrid’s chest shrunk into a tight little ball, rising into her throat. She tried to swallow it, but it stayed where it was.

“Ruff?”

“Huh?”

“Can you imagine me with a child?”

“Sure, you already act like my mom sometimes.”

“No, I don’t!” Astrid protested. She did, though. She realized that herself.

“Yeah, you definitely do. Why are you asking?”

Astrid took a moment to answer. “Just thinking about it. Because of the game.” She grimaced.

“Cool. Tell me when you’re seriously thinking of trying, my friend Kelsey did that last year so I can give you all the deets. You know I’m good at advice.” She cackled.

“Hmm. Will do. Hey, go back to the first floor, I think the toilet just exploded!”

Long after midnight, when she and Ruff had ended the call, she slowly opened the bottom drawer of her dresser and took out the pregnancy test she’d bought and hadn’t had the nerve to use yet.

With the lump in her throat growing and the queasiness in her stomach uncomfortably increasing, she tiptoed into the bathroom and unwrapped the stick with shaking hands.

When she was done with it, she sunk onto the floor, leaning against the tub, the test lying next to her. With a pounding heart, she refused to look at it, staring at the underside of the sink until her tailbone started to hurt from sitting in this position for so long. There was really no use in waiting any longer; whatever the result was, it was real, no matter how long she put off finding out. Still, it took her several more minutes before she took a deep breath and reached for the stick.

She released the air from her lungs when she looked at it, the result staring her in the face, unmistakable and clear.

Hands still shaking, she took out her phone and dialed a number before she could change her mind. He picked up after the fourth ring.

“Hello? Astrid?”

“He-“ She cleared her throat. “Hey.” She didn’t know what to say. Their last exchange had been nearly two weeks ago and it had been less than friendly.

“How… How are you doing?” Eret didn’t know what to say, either. It went unspoken between them that they left things too messy to have a casual conversation right now, or an even remotely serious one over the phone. But she didn’t want to fight anymore, and neither did he. She knew that she needed to apologize for some of the things she’d said. All of them if she were honest. But the words died on her tongue when she made out voices in the background.

She heard a woman call for him, and the old fire flared back up in her chest, hungry and destructive. A male voice joined her.

“Um…” Eret paused, unsure how to continue.

With bated breath, she waited for him to say something. Anything. Feed the raging flame.

“We were just about to go out for drinks, me and a few colleagues, Timothy… Timothy’s waiting for me, I’m sorry. I gotta go. We’ll talk when I’m home, okay?”

Who the hell was Timothy? “I… Yeah. Okay.”

“See you on Sunday.”

He ended the call and left her in the eerie silence of the bathroom. She just sat there, slumped against the tub, tailbone complaining, swallowing the rocks in her lungs.

With a frustrated huff, she threw the stick at the wall, a lonely tear rolling down her cheek.

[gegenji]

A Minute Movement of Masks and Monsters

There was a bit of a sickening crick as Tsunene finally got up from her work and forcibly popped the stiffness out of her back. A sound that echoed a bit over-loud in the chamber she had been toiling in. A chamber that - while a few degrees less cramped than the musty cell she had been in not all that long ago - still felt a bit like a prison.

The reasoning for that was a bit complicated, of course, since it was technically different from those prior arrangements. She was... relatively free to come and go as she pleased, though she always had the strange suspicion whenever she did depart that some manner of eyes were on her at all times. And, as was promised, the facilities were decently well stocked for her purposes. Purposes that were at the behest of her strange benefactor, rather than her own desired goals.

And that was honestly the rub of the whole situation: she had wanted to make super-soldiers off of this strange and potentially profitable discovery she had all but been handed as an act of providence. She had planned to amass wealth and fame and power with her alchemical genius in deciphering the mystery and replicating its results. Not be stuck in relative obscurity, limited to trying to create the next big gimmick for the brutes of the Bloodsands to throw themselves at.

Though, to be fair, she argued with herself as she idly cracked each finger joint individually, this was still technically better than the alternatives. The idea of having a wealthy patron to fund her experiments and developments was not something she could so easily dismiss out of hand. And even being stuck doing this sort of... alchemical grunt-work was infinitely preferable to withering away in a Flames jail cell. Or, worse, having to fight it out on the Bloodsands like her former assistant D'lilac.

D'lilac who - thanks to Tsunene's gift, of course - was doing quite well on that front. An up-and-coming rising star of the gladiatorial world with a "special technique" that was "surprising, entertaining, and enticingly powerful." Or, at least, that's what all the posters about her liked to proclaim. Posters likely manufactured by that selfsame patron and benefactor.

While the alchemical genius herself was stuck huddling over beakers. Seeking to replicate some variation of the formula from sheer memory and experimentation to meet with the ever-rising standards her one successful test subject was setting. Which was certainly moving faster than Tsunene's progress. The lady Plainsfolk had managed some interesting results on the test beasts that had been provided to her, but given all the positive buzz the 'Legendary Leozaru' or whatever was getting... they didn't seem quite good enough.

It figured, Tsunene noted with an irritated sigh, that her troublesome assistant continued to make things more difficult for the lady Plainsfolk even in her successes.

All of this added up to just one thing: that it was definitely time to step away from the alchemical table and get some fresh air. Clear her head and indulge in what little freedoms she did have, comparatively. And perhaps in some of those delectable pastries from down in the markets. If she was going to be observed while out and about, she might as well be observed enjoying something sweet.

... Or that had been the plan, anyway. Tsunene had only made it halfway up the staircase that went from her alchemical workshop to the door when the latter creaked open and her way was figuratively and quite literally blocked by the hulking form of Swyrkhan. The Roegadyn wearing one of his apparently massive collection of similar-looking pinstripe vests. This one having the audacity of being a bright yellow - as if mocking the lady Lalafell with the color of the sunlight she was being denied at the moment.

And it got only more problematic from there, because the big lug wasn't alone. Moving in a dramatically sharp movement that Tsunene thought - or perhaps hoped - would've sent the lumbering behemoth tumbling over the railing to the floor below, Swyrkhan sidestepped to give way to the lady Lalafell's second guest.

None other than her ‘illustrious’ patron himself: "Master Hohoyahu."

As the name suggested, the man in question was a Lalafell like herself - Dunesfolk rather than Plainsfolk - and to stick to more... polite adjectives in order to describe him, Tsunene would likely go with "eccentric." After all, a man whose only constant was the black-and-white jester's mask on his face while everything else from clothing to hair to even eye color seemed to change at whim every time she saw him could hardly be considered "normal." And that was before one got caught in conversation with him. Something that Tsunene had a sinking feeling was an inevitability now.

"Ah, there's my masterful alchemist!" the masked Dunesfolk announced in a voice that somehow seemed to be even more bombastic than Swyrkhan's. And the Roe already seemed to speak as if he were on a stage rather than in a normal conversation. Hohoyahu paused only long enough for the echo in the chambers to begin to fade before he continued right on. "I do hope this sun has been most agreeable for your research!"

"'Twould be far more fortuitous if I was free to fetch myself some food," Tsunene grumbled quietly, deigning to not reveal that this was for sweets. And quietly hoping that presenting the need to eat in a more vague sense would allow her to escape. A hope that was quickly dashed.

"Now now now, sustenance can wait for just a minute or two, can it not?" Hohoyahu countered, waggling his finger - an action Swyrkhan mimicked, which only made the motion all the more irritating to Tsunene. They were like some sort of deranged buddy act. "After all, I have so graciously come to see what progress you have made for me! With D'lilac making such wonderful waves, the audience is ready and willing to see what else we can bring!"

"Progress plods, as per what I have perpetually presented in those superfluous reports I pen for you," the alchemist stated flatly. "Seeking to synthesize the solution from scratch without source material - let alone make modifications for your 'marketable monsters'  - is not an act I can accomplish with any sort of alacrity."

"Now now now!" came the counter, in the exact same cadence and pitch as before. "We both know you have quite the mind in there." He was in front of Tsunene in a quick flourish of a step that her eyes could only barely follow and... actively knocked on her head as if it was made of wood. "I'm sure you must have something to show for your work thus far!"

Tsunene stumbled back a couple steps, rubbing at the bruise she was absolutely sure was forming where her erratic patron had rapped on her skull. "I can present the potion I have prepared thus far, sussed using sanguine samples from your supposed celebrity," she relented, motioning stiffly back down the stairs. "But I offer no promises as to its potency. Instead, it has proved... problematic."

"Intriguing!" Hohoyahu stated with a sharp clap of his hands before motioning for her to proceed on ahead of him. "Let us go and take a look then, shall we? I'm absolutely certain that together we can solve whatever problems you're having!"

“... Delightful.”

“Indeed!”

A forcefully swallowed sigh, and Tsunene started her slow trek back down the stairs - her dreams of pastries on hold until she had sufficiently placated her patron. To hurry that process, she began her explanation once she heard Hohoyahu and his manservant following behind. Which wasn't too difficult, given the sharp clack of their shoes on the stone of the staircase. She wouldn'tve been surprised if they were wearing tap shoes or something - they seemed the sort.

"Given my former fellow's... feline features, I figured that the first flagship should be of similar stock," she explained matter-of-factually as she descended. "Her tincture turned her towards that... more primal state. So it stood that solutions sourced from her should show similar results..."

"And that's why you requested the couerl kitten!" Hohoyahu chimed in with another clap of his hands that neatly interrupted Tsunene's train of thought. "I knew there was a reason for that one."

"Impeccably deduced, sir. And lo, we provided as we said we would," Swyrkhan added with a grand spread of his hands. Or as much as he could without bashing one of them into the wall. "And many suns ago besides. So, Sunshine-" Tsunene frowned at the nickname. "-whatever happened to that illustrious little test subject?"

"Suns spent ensuring the subject wouldn't simply... succumb to an untested solution!" the lady Plainsfolk snapped, pausing on the bottom-most step and whirling around on the Roegadyn. She paused to collect herself - not willing to give either of them the satisfaction of seeing her flustered - and adjusted her glasses. "I am a professional, not a poisoner."

“So! No... catdavers, then,” Hohoyahu interjected, forcing Tsunene to swallow a groan this time as her patron made a dramatic bow for his horrendous wordplay.

“No... sir...” The sarcasm dripped despite her best attempts to restrain it, and she moved to a holding cell set in the wall. Well away from everything else, for good reason. “Not as such.”

A click, and Tsunene pulled open the door and motioned inside. Inviting them in. “She has a...” She groaned a little before continuing. “Stormy disposition. So step lightly.”

“There we go, Sunshine!” Swyrkhan applauded. “By the Twelve, we might even see a smile from you at some point!”

“Unlikely.”

Hohoyahu merely laughed behind his mask, and strode through the door without nary a care in the world. And then there was a brilliant flash as a bolt of lightning crackled out from the darkness of the cell, striking where the bombastic Lalafell stood.

Or where he had been standing. There was a blackened mark where he had been, but the Dunesfolk himself was mere ilms off to one side. And, for some inexplicable reason, in a pose.

Tsunene wasn’t quite sure which part of it assaulted her sensibilities more.

“My!” Hohoyahu gasped dramatically. “You certainly...”

Another bolt of lightning sidestepped, complete with new pose.

“Weren’t...”

And a third, with similar results as Hohoyahu twirled into a flourish on the third dodge.

“Kidding!”

As the eccentric Dunesfolk pressed further onward, Tsunene could only gape in disbelief before turning to the Roegadyn manservant who seemed completely unfazed by such antics. And only one word managed to escape her lips: “How?”

“Ah, but a true performer never reveals their secrets!” Swyrkhan countered, in a cadence that instantly identified the quote as something from Hohoyahu himself. Then, with a chuckle, the Roegadyn surprised her further by obliging with an actual answer. Of sorts. “Master Hohoyahu has always claimed to be able to see a couple steps ahead in the dance.”

“And such foresight somehow allows him to sidestep being struck by lightning!?”

“You created Miqo’te able to shapeshift into a beast,” Hohoyahu responded from a couple steps behind Tsunene, startling her with the suddenness. Whirling about gave her an even more audacious sight: a striped puffball was floating lazily and purring mere ilms above the masked Lalafell’s head. The static of the cloud-couerl kitten causing his hair to stand on end.

“I would’ve thought that brought with it a far more open mind,” he sighed grandly and shook his head, the action allowing some strands of hair to escape the static pull and drift back down into place. “Nevertheless, I rather like this one. Does she have a name?”

“... Subject C-1.”

“No no no!“ Hohoyahu countered with another waggle of his finger as the kitten made lazy circles around his head. “That will not do!“

He immediately pointed to Swyrkhan. “Dear, dear Swyr, you always seem to have a knack for names. If you would, please? Show her how it’s done.”

The Roegadyn folded his arms over his chest and let out a long, thoughtful sound. As if he were observing a grand painting in a museum. Stout fingers stroked a chiseled chin time and time again as the Sea Wolf pondered. And then, as if inspired by an aesthetically appropriate bolt from the blue...

“Mjeowlnir.”

“There we go!” Hohoyahu laughed with a clap of his hands, startling the newly named kitten - who sent out little sparks of lightning all over the place in her alarm. None of which hit the masked Lalafell, of course, but also fortunately did not travel far enough to strike the other two. Though Tsunene scampered back - and behind Swyrkhan to use him as a human shield - just in case.

“Well done, Swyr. A master of words, as always,” Hohoyahu continued, reaching up to scoop the floating fluffball into his arms. “Well, I think this delightful little prize is proof enough that you still have merit. I do look forward to what else you will create.” He started his way back up the stairs before pausing a couple steps up. “Preferably a little more monstrous next time, if you please.”

And then he continued his ascent, running his fingers through the frizzy floof of Mjeowlnir.

“Do make sure to take the Master’s suggestions to heart,” Swyrkhan added in an overly dramatic stage whisper, a hand over his mouth as if to direct the words only to Tsunene. “It is... in your best interests.”

With that enigmatic warning, the Sea Wolf followed after his patron - taking the steps three at a time to catch up to the smaller man - and leaving Tsunene still wondering what all had just happened. Though the few moments of almost deafening silence that followed after that bombastic duo had left didn’t help clear that question up any. Instead, it left the lady Lalafell wishing she was just dealing with D’lilac’s eccentricities again.

... and with a desire for something to drink to go along with that pastry.

[kyogre-blue]

Nanowrimo, day 9 (wc 1612)

Alibaba stared in mute shock at the black magic beast that had somehow appeared from the swarm of dark birds that sprang up around the assassins. At first, he was not alone in that, as even Valefor seemed taken aback. But even as the others sprang into action, readying their weapons and taking defensive positions, he couldn’t make himself move. 

Something... something was... 

A black blade. Blood. A monster, howling. 

Something was pressing on his mind. Not from outside, but from within. 

He recognized this. He didn’t know why, but he did. Blindly, he hit his chest, trying to grasp Amon’s dagger and missing. Finally closing around warm metal, his fingers clenched tightly. The noise in his ears faded just slightly, but his breathing refused to slow, still fast and shallow -- and he didn’t know why. 

It wasn’t the black monster’s nature. The others had already regained themselves. So why... 

“Stop!” Sinbad yelled as Drakon pointed his strange magic tool at the beast. 

But the command came too late, almost drowned out by the bang of the lightning shot. Darting forward, Sinbad managed to deflect it with Baal’s sword, which went skittering away across the treasury floor as he lost his grip on it. 

“What are you doing?!” Drakon demanded. “Can’t you tell what kind of situation this is?” 

“They’ve already become my people! And I won’t leave anyone behind! I won’t let my comrades die!” Sinbad shouted back. 

Dry, nasty laughter came from somewhere within the shadows. 

“You don’t have a choice,” the rustling voice of the court magician spoke. It was impossible to tell where she was, no matter how frantically they looked around them. Suddenly, a spike of erupted from the ground, surrounding Baal’s sword, and a female figure emerged from it. 

Falan’s eyes curved in a hidden smile, as she held Sinbad’s metal vessel in her arms. “It’s their fate to be consumed by our magic beast. And it’s your fate to perish here!” 

As if at her command -- and maybe it really was -- the beast lunged for Sinbad, sword-like black claws extended 

“Sinbad!!” 

Three voices rang out at the same time. Alibaba finally regained his senses enough to scramble to his feet and draw Amon’s dagger. But the one who made it to Sinbad, shoving him out of the way and into Drakon was Hinahoho. The magic beasts claws closed around his head and torso, lifting him and squeezing him painfully. 

“Hinahoho! Hang on!” Sinbad shouted, struggling to disentangle himself from Drakon. “I’ll get you out!” 

And how was he planning to do that without his metal vessel? Alibaba knew that Sinbad also carried a knife, but it trying to use it in this battle would be like poking the beast with a needle. However, judging by his expression, Sinbad was more than willing to try. 

Cursing mentally, Alibaba gathered up his magoi -- and paused. 

Hinahoho was moving. Reaching up, he dug his fingers into the magic beast’s claws and, unbelievably, began to slowly and painstakingly pry them apart. 

“You...” he grounded out between clenched teeth, “are always... like this! Why?!” 

Shoving himself loose, he grabbed hold of the beast’s wrist and managed to twist it with a sickening crunch. The monster roared furiously, flinging Hinahoho away, but he landed safely, skidding back. 

“You’re small and weak! So how can you be this strong? You’re just a kid who doesn’t know anything. So how can be this determined and this sure of yourself?” Hinahoho yelled, ignoring the beast to glare at Sinbad. “Do you really think I need help more than you? You’re the one who’s running off to do something insane like changing the entire world!” 

“W-well, I...” Sinbad blinked at him. “Um...” 

“You’re really something,” Hinahoho said, his furious tone unexpectedly calming. His shoulders dropped, and he shook his head. “I can’t help but admire you. You’re right -- you are the most suited to be king.” His lips quirked up in a wry smile. “You have the strength to achieve your dreams, no matter whether anyone supports you or approves of you. Not like me...” 

After all, Hinahoho was someone who had been deeply pressured by the expectations of those around him, trying to live up to them, falling short of them. Not like Sinbad, who only looked ahead and persisted in his own path. 

Watching him, Sinbad’s eyes widened and his expression brightened, as if something clicked into place. 

“So it’s like that...” he murmured to himself. Raising his head, he stepped forward and unexpectedly took one of Hinahoho’s much larger hands. “That’s right, I’ll achieve my dream. But only if I have comrades like you at my side. Hinahoho, join me! I need your strength! To save those guys, and to change the world!” 

So he had finally figured it out. 

Without looking, Alibaba could imagine Hinahoho’s response. That was what he’d meant before -- that sometimes, what people wanted to hear wasn’t that they could just depend on someone else. Hinahoho especially, as a proud Imuchakk warrior, no matter how much he doubted himself. Sometimes, what people wanted was for someone to tell them they could succeed, that they were strong. 

As expected, Sinbad was amazing. 

“Tch!” Falan clicked her tongue, even half-hidden, her expression twisting with disgust. “As if I’ll allow it--!” 

“As if you can stop them!” Alibaba countered, magoi engulfing his dagger and transforming it into a black greatsword. The wave of flames he released struck Falan before she could react. There was a crack, and shattered pieces of a doll fell to the treasure floor. Snatching up Sinbad's sword, Alibaba stared at the doll fragments with a frown. 

"That's not her real body," Valefor said grimly. 

Falan's laughter rang out again. "That's right," she said -- as the flesh of the black beast's shoulder rippled and an exact replica of her form emerged from it. “The real me is far out of your reach. There’s nothing you can do to stop me, or this beast.” 

Valefor snarled, its previously lazy, soft shape returning to the fearsome wolf they had seen at first. “You think you can run wild in my dungeon? I remember that disgusting stench of yours! I won’t let you do as you please!” 

“Wait!” Sinbad protested, moving as if to put himself between the djinn and the magic beast. “Those guys are still in that thing! I won’t let you destroy it!” 

“You can’t save them,” Falan said. Even with the veil, Alibaba could tell her lips curled into a smirk. “And what right do you think you have to interfere, slave of Solomon? You who already failed once and are now nothing more than a puppet...” 

“Shut up! How dare you bring up what you and your ilk did to Alma Torran!” Valefor roared. 

“That’s fine,” Sinbad said, cutting through their argument. “They’re our comrades, so we’ll be the ones to save them. We’ll find a way!” 

For a long moment, Valefor stared at him, a growl rumbling in its throat. 

“Fine! Fine, if you’re that sure! Prove to me that you have what it takes to be a true king vessel!” the djinn snapped finally. “You can save them if you destroy the beast’s core! Based on the flow of magoi, it should be in its chest!” 

Sinbad grinned. “I knew there’d be a way!” 

“Leave the core to me,” Hinahoho said. “The great harpoon will pierce straight through. This time I won’t miss.”

“Then I’ll--”  

“Enough!” Falan barked. The black beast slammed its fist where they had been standing, forcing them to scatter. “I won’t give you the chance! Thalg Al-Salos!” 

“Amol Saiqa!” Flames engulfed her rain of icicles, melting them before they could come near Sinbad and Hinahoho. Hefting up Baal’s sword, Alibaba threw it toward its owner. Sinbad caught it easily, shooting him a grin. 

Alibaba smiled back and made himself step away. It was hard not to interfere. In truth, although he couldn’t explain it, he felt like he could defeat the black beast on his own, matching Falan’s ice with his flames and piercing it straight through. The name of the right spell was tugging at the back of his mind. In the same way he could strangely use his metal vessel’s power to an even greater extent than Sinbad, he would be able to overcome this. 

But this wasn’t his battle. This was Sinbad’s challenge to prove himself to Valefor, to his comrades, and to his dreams. And of course, the legendary Conqueror of the Seven Seas would succeed. 

Even with Baal’s power and Hinahoho’s support, it was a struggle. Sinbad alone couldn’t counter Falan’s magic and suppress the monster long enough for Hinahoho to get a clean strike. Every time he tried, Falan would attack, interrupting them and forcing them to scatter. 

“Dammit!” Sinbad cursed as another cluster of ice spears headed toward him. 

Small blasts of lightning intercepted them in midair. “What are you doing?” Drakon scowled. “All that talk, and this is the best you can do?” 

It seemed he had become fed up with standing around passively. And that his heart had also been moved by the future king of Sindria. 

Sinbad didn’t waste the opportunity he was given. When the magic beast tried to move, he quickly attacked it with Baal’s power, keeping it pinned in place. “Hinahoho, now!” he shouted. 

“Right!” The red rampaging unicorn horn in Hinahoho’s hand glowed brightly as he channeled magoi through it. The stone cracked where he stomped down to anchor his stance, and his eyes shone with an inhuman hue. “Take... this!!” 

The spear and the powerful magoi surging through it ripped straight through the beast’s chest. 

[crystalmaezing]

My wavemate, My crush pt. 1

“It started on our first day of work”

I’ve always been a  hopeless romantic ever since i had a crush back in my elementary days. Whenever i have a crush, i am always trying hard to let them know that i have a crush on them by looking at them always. I am swinging both ways, i tend to like boys and lesbians or bisexual girls (my mom do know that i had a crush on lesbians back then).

So going back to the present, I was hired in this company where my college friends are working, they told me to go there because i just resigned on my previous company which is a BPO as well. During our first day of work, i had my eyes on this someone which until now i still have a crush. She’s a lesbian.

At first i was actually a bit hesitant because it might be just a crush at first sight but the feelings went deeper than i expected. I was planning to forget about here until one day (December 16 to be exact), she actually pmed me on messenger saying that she wants to talk to me via call which is absurd. We never talked in person since i am awkward at her, just her in our wave.

At first, i actually told her that i don’t have any earphone working so i cant talk to her via call, just so you know, i hate talking on phone not using earphones, it sucks. But she keep on insisting that it’ll just take a few minutes. So i decided to allow her even if i don’t have earphones with me.

During the first topic of our call, she asked me where i was staying and such thing. The conversation goes like this (well not all is accurate though because that was like a few weeks ago)

Her: Where do you go home?

Me: *gives the train station that i always drop to*

Her: Where exactly is that, i didn’t know there is such station.

Me: *insists that it exist*

Her: Who are you with right now?

Me: My dad, my mom went to province.

Her: Tell your dad to drink medicine for cough (because she heard my dad coughing on the background)

And it goes on. She kept on asking me who is my crush and i replied to her jokingly “you”. At first she just laugh so i thought that i’ll just tell it to her jokingly even if it’s the truth.Sadly, someone arrives at home that i needed to hang up our call. Our call ended after 14 minutes. That Saturday, the day i decided to forget about her and decided to still have a crush on her right after our call. Even her laugh that night still lingers in my ears.

Monday came, I went to work and saw her. Just like the same old days, we didn’t talked to each other. It was weird because i thought she will talk to me because we sound so close to me that night. I awkwardly talked to her because she is quite close to one of my friend. She told me that she’s very drunk that night and she didn’t remember what we talked about.

That hit me like a lightning.

To me it was very meaningful but to her, it’s just a thing that she did while she’s drunk.

By the way, she have a crush at one of our wavemates, at first i thought it was me though, i’m such a hopeless romantic, i know. Because there are things that made me point at my fingers.

First, when i was busy writing the late on our wavemates. I heard her saying that her crush is busy, it turned out that i am busy and her real crush is busy talking to someone on phone. Another thing is when we’re on our way to the terminal, my friend asked her who her crush is and she said “I’m not gonna tell, she might be here”. Third one is i’m the only one she doesn’t talk much with. I know, i expected so much, i got disappointed big time.

Okay going back....Days passed by, we only talk on messenger like we’re really close but not talking personally in our office. We tend to have deep talks and such.

One time, i told her that my real crush is her because she kept on insisting. She keeps on commenting on my repost about my crush so i decided to tell her.

One time on December 18, we and some of my wavemates are having fun and then she suddenly called me and told me that someone is having a crush on me, i disregarded it.

Since i am used to us talking on messenger, i kept on waiting for her reply and decided to fake that i accidentally clicked the like button and she replied. We even talked about her family and mine. We have a lot of things that we talked about.

There was one time that she told me that she’s living alone and her mom lives at the province, i pitied her so i decided to cook something and bring more for her. I even jokingly told her that i’ll put some love potions on it and she said “Sure”. I gave her the food because she is eating with her crush. After that day, i bring more food so i can share with her. We ate together that day because her crush isn’t there.

I even saw her posting on myday a photo of her and her crush (now the girlfriend) and with a heart. Same with her girlfriend she posted one, it made me jealous one time big time.

December 23, i decided to get my hair done and i changed the color into red, i decided to do it to move on from her.

December 24, we have a morning shift so we wont have a hard time going home for Christmas even. I came inside our room with my earphones on, i am so awkward because i really told her that i have a crush on her. The sound of my earphone is really loud so i cant hear any of them inside the room, but i know she, her crush and her crush’ friend is there at the back of our room. When the song i am listening to ended, i heard her crush’ friend saying “There’s someone who have a crush on you in our wave right?” the moment i heard that, i knew that she told them that i have a crush on her, i felt betrayed.

I just let it flow. Ignoring her, she didn’t even talk to me that much. And i can see that she and her crush is already together because of their clingy-ness and sweetness on each other. It’s unofficial, i just expected it to be like that but i never heard it from anyone. It was actually sad for me but i kept on fighting it. There are times i am not even in the mood to eat.

December 24, Christmas eve, i was singing with my brothers and decided to post it on messenger, she just keep on seeing the videos and such but not talking to me. I chatted her to ask if she’s dating with her crush already but i’ve got no answer. 11 pm strikes and i decided to send her a long ass message. She just reacted an emoji with a heart and no response. She response to me in the morning saying she fell asleep already.

December 25th, i’ve got a greetings from her and nothing else. It getting more awkward already but i am still expecting that she will at least talk to me, but no.

During one of our chats, she asked me to have a drink with her and a friend, i said yes but when i sent her that long ass message, it got awkward. She doesn’t talk to me that much so i thought that maybe the invitation would be disregarded already.

Our salary day came, she asked me if i will still go but my friends already decided to eat on a buffet so i told her i cant go. It’s for my own anyway, i don’t wanna bond with her that much because i want my feelings to fade away.

December 29. She left on our gc, i was hella curious so decided to pm her. She told me that she fought and broke up with her girlfriend. I was more than happy but then, not really. She sounds so frustrated because her girlfriend did something that is really absurd. She even told me that they’re dating since December 22. I was in full shock because i even sent her a message during the 25th like whut.

She asked me to have a drink with her but it’s raining that time so i refused to go which is until now, i am sorry for myself. She even told me that she wont go to work anymore so i did everything to stop he from doing that. I  told her that i’ll give a gift or i’ll perform during our year end party but she refused to accept. She got quite busy during the night and i even asked her if she’s free on the next day but she said nope.

On Sunday, i talked to her again and asked if it’s a final decision, i even told her jokingly that she wont be able to see me perform. She said that she’ll go to work because she wants to watch me, i am really happy because i feel special. But it turned out that they got back together, i am stupid right?

December 31, our year end party. When i came in, she’s still not there but her girlfriend is so i thought, maybe they’re still not getting back together. She arrives and keeps on saying to her friend “Where’s the gift you promised me?” which is actually for me because i promised her. I was with my friend when she asked me to have a photo with her. I was actually surprised because we never had a photo together yet. She took it, her hand is actually trembling which is funny so i told her i’ll take it for her, but I AM TREMBLING AS WELL.

She were in front of me when i told my friend to take a photo together but she went to us saying that she wants to join so i took a photo of the three of us. I was really happy that time but that ended real quick when her girlfriend performed and she said “I’m so embarrassed for you”. I was like “They got back together”.

It even gets sadder when we’re about to eat, they went to get the food together, eating beside each other and they even took a photo together. For short, they’re very sweet to one another.

Our party ended, i was frowning the whole time, each and everyone is greeting one another and hugging each other. She was in front of me and i jokingly told her “Happy new year” and i even leaned a bit but we’re on our way out so i just went out of the room. She called me and said “Okay let’s hug”. I was about to hugged her but we both leaned on the same direction which made us almost kissed. I was embarrassed big time, even some of our wavemates saw it as well as her girlfriend. But we still hugged of course. Both of us were actually speechless after that.

Why is it whenever i am deciding to forget about her, she’s doing something that will make me fall for her more?

[fear-frost]

Perfect Moment by @fear-frost 

Written as a gift for @idleafterthoughts as part of the Sterek Secret Santa gift exchange!

Rated T

“Can I get a sitrep?” Stiles nearly yelled against the phone, his face pressed as close to Derek’s back as possible while Derek’s Harley tore down a back-country road just south of the Preserve.

“Oh my god, Batman! We’re not FBI agents.” Erica shouted back, her voice tinny against the rushing wind.  

A chunk of Stiles’ hair lashed his eye and he pulled the phone away from his ear to brush it back, keeping one arm securely wrapped around Derek’s middle. His hair was the longest it had ever been, falling to just below his ears, and while Derek had said he wasn’t sure how he felt about it, Stiles knew he liked it if the way the wolf constantly had his hands in it was any indication.

“Stiles!” Erica’s voice came through the speaker and he shoved the phone back to his ear and hunkered down behind Derek again.

“I’m here. Do you even know what kind of creature it is?”

The rustling on the other end intensified then Allison’s voice filtered into his ear. “I can’t believe you guys really called them! Stiles, it’s just a troll. We’ve got this. You guys go enjoy your date.”

Derek started shaking his head before Allison even finished her sentence.

“Nope,” Stiles sighed. “We’re already almost there so we’ll see you in a few minutes. I mean, who doesn’t want to go troll wrangling on their anniversary?”

***

Allison had been right. It was a troll, but not just any troll.

“I’m going to have to check the wards around the enclosure,” Stiles said, pointing to a spot on the map they’d laid over the trunk of Allison’s car where she’d parked to the side of one of the Preserve’s many access roads. “If she’s the only one that’s gotten out then maybe I can get the wards back in place before any of the others realize they’re down.”

           Derek was standing on Stiles’ other side, arms crossed, and looked up sharply when a howl filtered through the trees. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and Scott were already out herding the wayward troll back to safety.

Over the years, the nemeton had never stopped being a beacon for supernatural creatures. Some of the human ones, like Parrish, had integrated themselves into the regular society of Beacon Hills. All the rest had either been driven out by the pack when they proved a threat or if the creatures were like their errant troll, the pack led them to the enclosure Stiles and Deaton had created with wards deep in the Preserve. It allowed the creatures to live in peace near the energy from the nemeton they craved.  

               “They’ve got her between them,” Derek said, eyes narrowed and head cocked, listening to things he and Allison had no chance of hearing with their human ears. “But she’s trying to move towards town. I need to go help them.”

           “Go. Ally and I will head to the enclosure and fix the wards.”

           “Call your Dad. Have him and Parrish on standby just in case. Ally, call Chris too?”

“I’m on it,” Allison said, turning away and already pressing her phone to her ear.

Stiles’ eyes caught Derek’s gaze as the wolf shifted closer, cool September breeze ruffling his dark hair and trying to lift the map off the car.

           “You’ll be careful.” Derek’s voice was low. Meant only for him.

           “You know the rest of the pack might not be, but I actually am an FBI agent.” Stiles grinned, moving until he was nearly pressed to Derek and it took no effort to brush his lips against the alpha’s.

           “I know.” There was a heaviness to Derek’s voice that Stiles wasn’t sure how to interpret. It wasn’t like this was the first time they’d had to ditch their plans for some emergency. Supernatural or otherwise.

           “I’m sorry our dinner got interrupted.” He said, gently, ducking his head to get Derek to meet his gaze.

           “Me too.” Derek looked up, kissed him, and stepped back. “I’ll see you soon.” He turned, eyes already burning red and headed in the direction of the pack.

           “Hey!” Stiles yelled before Derek broke the tree line. The wolf stopped and turned crimson eyes back to him. “I love you.”

           “I love you too.”

           Stiles stood watching the place Derek had disappeared until Allison touched his shoulder.

           “All set?” He asked, pulling out his own phone to fire off a quick text to his dad and Parrish, asking them to keep an eye on the main roads heading out of the Preserve. After he’d completed his training, Stiles had been surprised when he was asked to be the bureau’s supernatural liaison to the Beacon County Sheriff’s Department, but wasted no time saying yes.

           He’d only been settled in for a few months when Derek had kissed him for the first time after a particularly difficult battle with a witch. That was two years ago, and they hadn’t looked back since.

           Allison moved at his side, strapping on a tactical vest and pulling back her hair before retrieving her tranquilizer rifle from the trunk. He stepped up beside her and pulled on his own gear, a tact vest and tranq handgun in a shoulder holster. “Let’s take the bike. It’ll be faster.”

           Allison just nodded, slung the rifle’s strap over her shoulder and climbed on behind him when he cranked the motorcycle’s engine over.

***

Chaos. Absolute and utter chaos. Erica and Boyd were pulling dishes out to set the table. Isaac was rooting around in the fridge for beverages. Stiles was sitting on the counter, feet swinging until his heels clicked against the cabinet door. Derek wondered how he managed to endure all the noise, and how in the world he’d ever lived without it.

“I’m telling you,” Erica laughed, reaching into one of the kitchen cabinets to get glasses for soda. “It’s a good thing none of you ever signed up to be cowboys because you don’t know the first thing about herding.”

“We’re wolves!” Isaac countered. “It’s a natural instinct and we totally had it under control.”

Boyd snorted. “You and Scott would have had that poor troll all the way to Sacramento if Erica and I hadn’t shown up.”

“Hey!” Scott pouted from the front window where he was watching for the pizza delivery. “We weren’t doing that bad...were we?” Allison grinned and walked over to press a kiss to his cheek.

However they’d managed it, the troll was once again safely within the confines of the wards Stiles had repaired. Derek had hoped when all was said and done that the pack would take the hint and let he and Stiles get back to their anniversary evening.

No such luck.

“All those poor hikers denied their bigfoot sightings.” Isaac shook his head. “Just because you didn’t want to take the scenic route.”

“Hey, what have I told you before?” Stiles piped up, sounding like the amazing emissary he’d become. “We don’t contribute to the bigfoot rumors.” His lips quirked up on the sides and his eyes locked onto to Derek’s as if to say, “Can you believe these kids?”  

Stiles had grown up so much, endured and persevered through so many trials, and yet Derek was still blown away by the simple joy sparkling in the warm brown eyes that he got lost in every chance he could.

He knew in that instant that he didn’t want to wait. Not another day. Not another minute. He’d had special plans for their date that night, but like so many dates before, their lives had pulled them away from the perfect moment he had hoped to create.

It was like a lightning strike to the spine, that realization. This was their life. This was their family. Despite all the pain and loss they’d both experienced, here they were, in the kitchen of the rebuilt version of his family home, surrounded by their pack, their family. Laughter. Love. No moment could more perfect than that.

“Marry me.” Derek said, loud enough only for Stiles to hear him over the clatter.

Everything stopped. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.

Stiles hopped off the counter still holding Derek’s gaze and took the few steps between them until he was standing close enough to Derek for their chests to brush. Lifting his arms, he grasped the back of Derek’s neck, tilting his head until their foreheads rested together.

“Is that what had you so on edge earlier?” Stiles whispered.

Derek nodded, and Stiles smiled.

“Silly wolf. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Derek pressed forward, capturing Stiles’ lips with his own and the pack erupted in joyous howls. The kiss was awkward because they were both smiling too much, but Derek wouldn’t have changed any of it.

“Oh my god, my ears!” Stiles laughed, pulling back but not leaving Derek’s arms. “Take the howling outside you bunch of ingrates.”

The pack, of course, did the exact opposite and converged on the two of them with congratulations and hugs and back slaps. Through the din, Derek caught Stiles’ eyes, a small smile on his face. This was their life: escapee trolls, rambunctious pack, protecting, and loving each other.

Stiles winked and grinned back.

[luckyfirerabbit]

Savage Season: Berserker pt 1

He feels like an idiot for taking so long to notice what had been staring him in the face for weeks. Qrow knows he should have seen it, knew the clues were all right there, but is convinced the only thing that kept him from connecting the dots was the shock of everything going wrong. Everything fell apart, the debris covering up everything that still made sense, concealing it.

Lightning storms -just clouds and thunder and bursts of light- had been raging in the mountains to the west of the city. Without end, without change, without natural cause. Storms like that were almost unheard of around those peaks, and that should have been enough to grab his attention. It wasn't just freak weather, the storm was behaving, it was answering a summons. When it did click he had almost literally flown out of dead sleep, scrambling for his gear and the nearest set of listening ears. Thankfully he found four, those of Maab Renard.

"Nora's the only person alive I can think of that could make that kind of mess."

"And wherever she has gone, with luck, Glynda may be also." Maab nods after a moment, face grim but laced with focus. "I'll go with you whenever you're ready."

"How the hell are we gonna handle a kid that can turn the whole sky against us? I mean, she's a walking battery, and who knows what sort of trouble she can cause now."

"We need a Maiden." she says certainly.

"We've only got one that isn't M.I.A. or got the blight on them, and you can't ask Tag to hurt any of these girls."

"I wasn't planning on it, but she can tame the storm long enough for us to...do whatever it is we can." this time she shakes her head. "We're still in the early stages of this war, anything we can do to tip the scales in our favor must be attempted."

"Yeah, I know." Qrow shrugs, feeling strangely trapped. "Let's get the others together and talk this out, then. It's a place to start."

***

The winds whipped and howled, bitter cold and cutting with slivered hailstones. The sun is blotted out by clotting clouds, dark gray and silver, and the only light is the bursts of brilliants that bolt out of nowhere. Those who are sensitive to it can feel the vibration of magic here, feel it all around like fine sandpaper against their souls. Everyone else felt the weight of a Progenitor's presence.

Billy keeps close to Tag as she starts to work on the weather, a great peel of thunder sounding off at almost the exact instant her eyes begin to glow a brilliant green -it's protesting. The winds wither but only so much, just enough so the ice in the is no longer so sharp against what little skin they all have exposed. Lightning strikes the ridge just above them, once, twice, four times, then nearly a dozen bolts rain down in quick succession with enough force to shake the ground. Maab calls on a trio of her phantoms, all of them copies of herself before she jumps to stand atop the snow -her aura keeping her from sinking into it up to the waist- to make a steady advance towards the ridge. Qrow is close behind.

The ground shakes again with another heavy bolt of light from above, earth and snow launched upward with the great impact. Maab and Qrow quicken their pace, the Faunus Witch suddenly so aware of the bristle of static in the air. Electricity saturates the place, set to a hair trigger to go off at any moment.

"There!"

Maab just registers Qrow's cry, her feet already pushing her into a flat sprint towards the top of the ridge where the storm seems to spiral from, to the huge blackness that suddenly grabs all of her attention. She comes within just a few yards, just able to comprehend what she sees, when her vision is flooded with a percussive wave of light and her ears snap back at the subsequent BOOM. She's moving again even before her vision clears, Thorn drawn and ready as she advances on the hulking hybrid, it's one exposed eye still crackling with turquoise energy.

Qrow hangs back, reacting to something Maab hadn't seen. Something went flying through the air after that last blast, something he scrambled to catch before it struck the snow. He needed full use of his arms, dropping his sword at the last second as a heavy body collides with his own. He holds on for dear life as he rolls down the slope several feet, and is quick to right himself.

"Tag, I need you!" He shouts, negotiating Glynda's limp form against his chest. There's a flicker of life in her still, he can feel it, but it's frail.

The storm surges back in full as the Spring Maiden's focus skews, worsens even as Berserker and Maab go toe-to-toe. Tag works quickly, beginning with a quick, scorching pulse of energy to seal the worst of the external wounds -electrical burns and gashes. This alone is enough to bring Glynda gasping back to some semblance of life, but she immediately collapses into a pain-induced sort of paralysis. Tag begs her for a moment more, promising it will be better if she could have just one more moment.

"Gods," her breath hitches on the shocking hurt in her ribs, "my l-legs...c-can't feel,"

"Easy, Goodwitch, take a second or two first."

"Sh-she's fighting it." it hurts to speak, to breathe, but she knows she needs to get it out. "Tried to help."

"How did you try to help?"

"Overload. The Grimm can't -mercy!" her whole body twists, one hand latching onto Tag's wrist."

"Almost there." Tag assures her, doing the best to ignore the tears now rolling down Glynda's face. "Almost there."

"Focus on me, Glynda, try. How were you trying to help her?"

"T-too much power, the Grimm can't take it. N-Nora was trying to flush it out." Then something seems to give and she can breath a little easier. Finally some relief, and her entire frame goes boneless in his arms again. "Was close...tried to pull it loose. Couldn't."

Qrow's brow furrows. "So...we gotta keep pumping that thing full of amps until it gives."

"But Nora," Tag frets.

"She can take it, it's her Semblance. You need to wrangle this storm," and he waits for Tag to nod, he needs to know she's behind this too. "Then big-and-tall can separate them. I'll stay with Glynda, and if things get too big for us I'll call in the cavalry." Though he's planning to do that anyway because however this turns out, they were going to need to haul ass out of here.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @idleafterthoughts!

Perfect Moment

“Can I get a sitrep?” Stiles nearly yelled against the phone, his face pressed as close to Derek’s back as possible while Derek’s Harley tore down a back-country road just south of the Preserve.

“Oh my god, Batman! We’re not FBI agents.” Erica shouted back, her voice tinny against the rushing wind.  

    A chunk of Stiles’ hair lashed his eye and he pulled the phone away from his ear to brush it back, keeping one arm securely wrapped around Derek’s middle. His hair was the longest it had ever been, falling to just below his ears, and while Derek had said he wasn’t sure how he felt about it, Stiles knew he liked it if the way the wolf constantly had his hands in it was any indication.

    “Stiles!” Erica’s voice came through the speaker and he shoved the phone back to his ear and hunkered down behind Derek again.

    “I’m here. Do you even know what kind of creature it is?”

    The rustling on the other end intensified then Allison’s voice filtered into his ear. “I can’t believe you guys really called them! Stiles, it’s just a troll. We’ve got this. You guys go enjoy your date.”

    Derek started shaking his head before Allison even finished her sentence.

    “Nope,” Stiles sighed. “We’re already almost there so we’ll see you in a few minutes. I mean, who doesn’t want to go troll wrangling on their anniversary?”

***

Allison had been right. It was a troll, but not just any troll.

“I’m going to have to check the wards around the enclosure,” Stiles said, pointing to a spot on the map they’d laid over the trunk of Allison’s car where she’d parked to the side of one of the Preserve’s many access roads. “If she’s the only one that’s gotten out then maybe I can get the wards back in place before any of the others realize they’re down.”

           Derek was standing on Stiles’ other side, arms crossed, and looked up sharply when a howl filtered through the trees. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and Scott were already out herding the wayward troll back to safety.

Over the years, the nemeton had never stopped being a beacon for supernatural creatures. Some of the human ones, like Parrish, had integrated themselves into the regular society of Beacon Hills. All the rest had either been driven out by the pack when they proved a threat or if the creatures were like their errant troll, the pack led them to the enclosure Stiles and Deaton had created with wards deep in the Preserve. It allowed the creatures to live in peace near the energy from the nemeton they craved.  

               “They’ve got her between them,” Derek said, eyes narrowed and head cocked, listening to things he and Allison had no chance of hearing with their human ears. “But she’s trying to move towards town. I need to go help them.”

           “Go. Ally and I will head to the enclosure and fix the wards.”

           “Call your Dad. Have him and Parrish on standby just in case. Ally, call Chris too?”

“I’m on it,” Allison said, turning away and already pressing her phone to her ear.

Stiles’ eyes caught Derek’s gaze as the wolf shifted closer, cool September breeze ruffling his dark hair and trying to lift the map off the car.

           “You’ll be careful.” Derek’s voice was low. Meant only for him.

           “You know the rest of the pack might not be, but I actually am an FBI agent.” Stiles grinned, moving until he was nearly pressed to Derek and it took no effort to brush his lips against the alpha’s.

           “I know.” There was a heaviness to Derek’s voice that Stiles wasn’t sure how to interpret. It wasn’t like this was the first time they’d had to ditch their plans for some emergency. Supernatural or otherwise.

           “I’m sorry our dinner got interrupted.” He said, gently, ducking his head to get Derek to meet his gaze.

           “Me too.” Derek looked up, kissed him, and stepped back. “I’ll see you soon.” He turned, eyes already burning red and headed in the direction of the pack.

           “Hey!” Stiles yelled before Derek broke the tree line. The wolf stopped and turned crimson eyes back to him. “I love you.”

           “I love you too.”

           Stiles stood watching the place Derek had disappeared until Allison touched his shoulder.

           “All set?” He asked, pulling out his own phone to fire off a quick text to his dad and Parrish, asking them to keep an eye on the main roads heading out of the Preserve. After he’d completed his training, Stiles had been surprised when he was asked to be the bureau’s supernatural liaison to the Beacon County Sheriff’s Department, but wasted no time saying yes.

           He’d only been settled in for a few months when Derek had kissed him for the first time after a particularly difficult battle with a witch. That was two years ago, and they hadn’t looked back since.

           Allison moved at his side, strapping on a tactical vest and pulling back her hair before retrieving her tranquilizer rifle from the trunk. He stepped up beside her and pulled on his own gear, a tact vest and tranq handgun in a shoulder holster. “Let’s take the bike. It’ll be faster.”

           Allison just nodded, slung the rifle’s strap over her shoulder and climbed on behind him when he cranked the motorcycle’s engine over.

***

    Chaos. Absolute and utter chaos. Erica and Boyd were pulling dishes out to set the table. Isaac was rooting around in the fridge for beverages. Stiles was sitting on the counter, feet swinging until his heels clicked against the cabinet door. Derek wondered how he managed to endure all the noise, and how in the world he’d ever lived without it.

    “I’m telling you,” Erica laughed, reaching into one of the kitchen cabinets to get glasses for soda. “It’s a good thing none of you ever signed up to be cowboys because you don’t know the first thing about herding.”

    “We’re wolves!” Isaac countered. “It’s a natural instinct and we totally had it under control.”

    Boyd snorted. “You and Scott would have had that poor troll all the way to Sacramento if Erica and I hadn’t shown up.”

    “Hey!” Scott pouted from the front window where he was watching for the pizza delivery. “We weren’t doing that bad...were we?” Allison grinned and walked over to press a kiss to his cheek.

    However they’d managed it, the troll was once again safely within the confines of the wards Stiles had repaired. Derek had hoped when all was said and done that the pack would take the hint and let he and Stiles get back to their anniversary evening.

    No such luck.

    “All those poor hikers denied their bigfoot sightings.” Isaac shook his head. “Just because you didn’t want to take the scenic route.”

    “Hey, what have I told you before?” Stiles piped up, sounding like the amazing emissary he’d become. “We don’t contribute to the bigfoot rumors.” His lips quirked up on the sides and his eyes locked onto to Derek’s as if to say, “Can you believe these kids?”  

    Stiles had grown up so much, endured and persevered through so many trials, and yet Derek was still blown away by the simple joy sparkling in the warm brown eyes that he got lost in every chance he could.

He knew in that instant that he didn’t want to wait. Not another day. Not another minute. He’d had special plans for their date that night, but like so many dates before, their lives had pulled them away from the perfect moment he had hoped for.

It was like a lightning strike to the spine, that realization. This was their life. This was their family. Despite all the pain and loss they’d both experienced, here they were, in the kitchen of the rebuilt version of his family home, surrounded by their pack, their family. Laughter. Love. No moment could more perfect than that.

“Marry me.” Derek said, loud enough only for Stiles to hear him over the clatter.

Everything stopped. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.

Stiles hopped off the counter still holding Derek’s gaze and took the few steps between them until he was standing close enough to Derek for their chests to brush. Lifting his arms, he grasped the back of Derek’s neck, tilting his head until their foreheads rested together.

“Is that what had you so on edge earlier?” Stiles whispered.

Derek nodded, and Stiles smiled.

“Silly wolf. Of course I’ll marry you.”

Derek pressed forward, capturing Stiles’ lips with his own and the pack erupted in joyous howls. The kiss was awkward because they were both smiling too much, but Derek wouldn’t have changed any of it.

“Oh my god, my ears!” Stiles laughed, pulling back but not leaving Derek’s arms. “Take the howling outside you bunch of ingrates.”

The pack, of course, did the exact opposite and converged on the two of them with congratulations and hugs and back slaps. Through the din, Derek caught Stiles’ eyes, a small smile on his face. This was their life: escapee trolls, rambunctious pack, protecting, and loving each other.

    Stiles winked and grinned back.

[kawaii-stuf]

Denkiweek day 2: AU⚡️Storm⚡️Jealousy

(This is an AU where Denki doesn't just have electrical power, but can also create lightning storms, and the results are tied to his emotions) Jealousy, it's a common feeling. It's an emotion that forms from possessiveness, and selfishness. It's an emotion of frustration, it's an emotion of anger, it's an emotion that clouds the mind, and honestly its an emotion that Denki thought he was never capable of until recently. Denki really liked Kirishima, he has ever since the start. He was the first person he ever talked to when he first came to UA, and on that day they immediately clicked. From then on you could never really see one without the other close behind. They were almost inseparable, they always talked, always cracked jokes, always made each other laugh, and always made each other feel better when they needed it most. Their chemistry was extremely apparent, so obviously it wasn't long before they became a thing. And doing so was the most fun they've ever had, it was definitely the next step they needed to take in Denki's opinion. Plus going on dates with Kirishima was pretty great, especially since Denki figured he wouldn't have a single romantic bone in his body. Everything else along with that was pretty great too, they spent day and night together doing all there favorite things and enjoying each others company. Denki couldn't even think of a better way to spend his time. However even though they were together, that didn't stop Kiri from being extremely chummy with others. Specifically people like Tetsutetsu and Katsuki. Denki never minded this though they were Kiri's friends, and his friends too. Plus he's an extremely sociably person, he's knows that from experience. They also had a lot in common so who was he to butt in in anyway. The last thing Denki ever wanted to be was a controlling type of partner. So he just let it be and never gave it mind, until this coming week. Last weekend Denki and Kirishima were just hanging out at the local park. The reason was because Kiri really wanted to see how Denki's quirk worked for himself. So that's exactly what they were doing, they found a nice empty spot and Denki began to work his magic. "Cmon Denki, show me, show me, show me, show me!" Kiri chanted excitedly. "Ok ok calm down, just give me a sec." Denki responded, right before he began to concentrate. He closed his eyes and began to strain himself ever so slightly, raising one hand in the air as a small bundle of clouds stated to form right over their heads. "Whooooooaaa!" Said Kiri in awe at the sight. "Wait for it." Said Denki right before he made a huge lightning strike not more than two feet away from them. Starling Kiri so bad that he fell over in surprise, and the reaction made Denki laugh out loud. "WHOA DUDE THAT WAS AWESOME!" "Hahahaha you really think so?" "I know so Denki, that's a manly power you got there!" "Hehehe well thanks Kiri, but I gotta be careful. My quirk is mostly tied to my emotions, so I gotta really feel something to control it." "Oh ok cool, so what are you feeling right now then?" All Denki could respond with was a small yet quick blush on his face as he looked down. Seeing this Kiri knew exactly what his answer was, so he grabbed his hand in reaction to how cute it was along with blushing a little himself. It was a sweet and tender moment until they both heard a chime coming from Kiri's phone. Kiri quickly whipped out it out to check what it was, before he bounced up without releasing Denki's hand. "Who was that?" Asked Denki first. "Oh it's just Tetsutetsu, he needs me for something." "Oh, you two have been hanging out a lot lately." "Yeah I guess um I hope you don't mind." "Wha- no of course not." "Ok good, I'll see you later then?" "Yeah sure." After that Kiri gave one last 'ok' and quick kiss on the cheek, leaving a very content and flushed Denki. A few minutes passed after Kiri left before Denki started to walk home. During this time he started to think to himself, Kiri really has been spending a lot of time with Tetsutetsu and Katsuki on other days. It would happen so much that he would even fly off in the middle of their hangouts. It made him wonder if Kiri ever actually had fun with him, but he shook that thought away figuring it couldn't be true. However that never stopped him from pondering it every now and then. Throughout the week this cycle of getting together, having a good time, and Kiri immediately bolting continued to happen again and again. And as much as Denki didn't want to admit it, it really started to bother him. What else could he possibly be doing with them. "Why are they always taking time away from me and my Kiri." He thought to himself once. In that phrase there was also a word he found himself using a lot. "Mine." It rumbled like thunder in his head as related thoughts began to cloud it. He wasn't sure what it was and how he was feeling, but he knew he wanted it to stop. So he confronted Kiri about it one night when they were supposed to have a movie night to themselves. "Pfffffft HAHAHAHAHA I DONT EVEN KNOW WHY THIS IS FUNNY!" "M-ME NEITHER HAHAHAHAHHA OMG!" After that as they began to calm down Kiri got another chime on his phone. "Let me guess Tetsutetsu again?" Denki said sarcastically, with a hint of annoyance. "Uh yeah but are you ok?" Kiri asked "Yeah it's just....you've been seeing Tetsutetsu a lot lately." "Um is there something wrong with that?" "Well no, if you didn't keep blowing me off when we're in the middle of something just to see him." "Oh man Denki I'm sorry I have kinda been blowing you off huh?" "Yeah kinda." Denki said folding his arms and looking away from Kiri. "Hey." Kiri said as cupped Denki's face and turned it towards him. "Would it make you feel better if I didn't see Tetsutetsu tonight." "A little." He said with a pout. "Only a little?~" Kiri asked as he started to tickle the pouty. "Pffffft hehehehe ok ok a lot a lot!" "Is that it?~" "HAHAHAHAHHA ALRIGHT COMPLETELY A WHOLE BUNCH I SWEAR HAHAHAHA!" "Ok I believe you." He said releasing Denki but still keeping him in his arms. Before Denki could say anything though Kiri butted in real quick. "But here's the thing, I actually have to do something else tonight." "What, Kiri you just told me-" "I know I know this is different it's uh family stuff." "Family stuff?" "Yes family stuff I swear. Just for a little, and if it's not too late I'll come right back." "Really?" "Really." "You swear?" "I swear!" "Tck, fine you can go." Denki said reluctantly. "Great! I I'll be back." Kiri exclaimed, as he gave Denki a quick kiss on the cheek and ran out of the door. Denki sat there thinking. He wanted to believe Kiri, he had to believe him, but nothing stopped him from doing what he did next. His mind was too clouded filled with that word. "Mine." He was not about to be outplayed by anyone. So he got up and followed Kiri, staying a good couple feet away so he wouldn't be detected. After a few minuets it tore him up, knowing that his suspicion might be true as they headed a completely different direction from Kiri's place. But he still decided to give him a chance, hoping that maybe it was a relatives house, or something like that. A few more minuets passed, Kiri stopped at an unknown persons house. Denki hid close behind, as he saw Kiri being greeted and quickly entering the house. He couldn't see who the other person was, so he decided to look for a window. He snuck around the house and eventually found one that showed right into the living room. Then the next thing Denki saw made his heart sink right into his stomach. Kiri was sitting on a couch right next to none other than Tetsutetsu. The exact same person Kiri swore he wasn't going to see tonight. Why would he do this, why would he lie to him, and what was so great about Tetsutetsu, that Kiri had to go right behind his back to see him. Why is he stealing away "MY" Kiri. There goes that would again, at this point it was nothing but thunder in the storm that began to swirl in his mind. He was so confused and upset that he didn't even notice the patch of clouds that began to form over the house. They only became bigger and darker as seconds passed, and not long after Denki let out a loud yell of frustration causing a huge lightning strike right next to the house. He then got up and ran towards the park that he and Kiri were at recently only wanting to be alone. The lightning strike was so loud that it also startled Kiri and Tetsutetsu. "Whoa I didn't hear anything about a storm tonight." Said a surprised Tetsutetsu. "That's not just any strom," said Kiri as he quickly grabbed an unknown object from the table and ran out the door as Tetsutetsu followed behind. When they came out the house they were surprised not only to see a clear night sky but a large patch of clouds heading towards the park. "Denki." Kiri said to himself as he began to run in the same direction, as Tetsutetsu once again followed him. "Hey did you just say that was Denki?" Tetsutetsu asked as they were running. "Yeah he must have followed me here." "Why would he do that?" "Well since I've been meeting up with you so much this week, he started to get suspicious. So I had to lie to him tonight about it, but I guess he saw right through me and got upset." "Dude why didn't you just pull the plug when he started getting upset, that's the complete opposite of what we're trying to do here." "I know I know I just wanted to surprise him." "Well I guess you accomplished that in a weird way." "Just help me find him!" Kiri exclaimed as they entered the park. They lost sight of the clouds for a moment, until they spotted them hovering over the same spot Denki first showed off his power to Kiri. Disheartened by the sight Kiri immediately ran over to him. He saw him sitting knees in chest as he yelled out to him. "Denki!" Denki quickly whipped around, but only gave him an angry look as he turned back around to respond. "What do you want?" "Denki, please let me explain." "I don't want to hear it! I know it's just going to be lies!" "Denki please you gotta hear me out!" "Why should-" Denki cut himself off as he saw Tetsutetsu a couple feet behind Kiri. "Oh so you had bring him along, you just had to be with him again!" "What no Denki it's not like that!" Said Kiri as Tetsutetsu interjected too. "Yeah it's totally-" "I don't want to hear it from you!" Denki yelled as he made lightning strike his way. Locally he dodged it in time. "Denki calm down!" Yelled Kiri. "Or you!" He said doing the same thing to Kiri. "What does Tetsutetsu have that I don't! What can he do for you that I can't!" Denki asked as he walked slowly to Kiri with tear filled eyes. "Denki why would you ask that." Said Kiri taken aback by Denki's state. "It doesn't matter." He said turning away. "It DOES matter!" Said Kiri getting up. "NO IT DOESNT!" Denki exclaimed as he made more lightning strike near Kiri. Kiri efficiently dodged them, but then more lightning started to strike all around them as he saw Denki standing there with his head in his hands. Seeing this Kiri made his way over to him not caring if he got struck or not. As soon as he got close he took Denki by the shoulders and quickly turned him around as he shook him a little saying. "Denki just please tell me what's wrong!" Denki was silent for a second until Kiri spoke again. "If you you explain to me then I'll explain to you." He said. Denki then decided to give it up which eventually made the lightning stop. Next he put his head down and muttered the next words. "I'm....jealous." "What, why?" "WHY?! BECAUSE! I'm not like Tetsutetsu or Katsuki. I'm not 'super manly' like you guys or can keep up with you in that way. Plus you clearly seem to want to be with them more." Denki explained as his eyes became more teary. "Denki no that is not the case." Kiri said sweetly as he put a hand on Denki's cheek. "Do you want to know the real reason why I've been seeing Tetsutetsu so much.' Kiri asked as Denki looked up to indicate a yes. "To make you this." Kiri then pulled out a necklace from his pocket, it had a bright yellow gem pendent with small specks of black in it and it was attached to the necklace with a piece of metal that swirled around it on the top. Denki stared at it in awe as he began to speak again. "You made that for me?" He said quietly. "Yeah, Tetsutetsu's been helping me find the perfect pendent for days, and turns out his quirk makes him great at metal work too, so he was helping me put it together for the past two days. I wanted it to be a suprise." Kiri them unchained the necklace put it around Denki's neck and he began to speak again. "Because I like you, and only you. Sure I have a lot of things in common with Tetsutetsu or Katsuki, but they don't make me feel like you do. I feel like I can talk to you, and joke with you, and whenever I need it your always right there to help. You make me happy, and dude you are plenty manly do you not see what you just did here!" "You really mean all that Kiri?" Denki said looking into Kiri's eyes. "I really do." responded Kiri staring back. "Wow. Then I'm so sorry Kiri I've been acting pretty stupid." Denki said shyly. "You're not stupid I'm just sorry for making you feel that way." Kiri responded. "It's ok you didn't mean to, and I'm sorry to you too Tetsutetsu. Ya know for almost frying you." "Oh it's ok it get it. I guess we learned not to let secrecy go too far huh Kirishima?" Said Tetsutetsu patting Kiri's back. Kiri nodded and chuckled in response. "And I guess I should be less jealous." "Well you don't need to be anymore." Kiri said smiling at him as he grabbed Denki's hand. Denki smiled back in response. "So what should we now?" Asked Denki. "Hmm how about we go back over your place and watch another movie." "That's sounds good, and Tetsutetsu can come too." "Oh you sure about that Denki?" Tetsutetsu asked. "Yeah it's totally fine, it's the least I can do for you right now." "Well alright then sounds good." He said as they all started to walk back to Denki's place. This last week may have been a bumpy ride but as Denki and Kiri learn more about each other and their new relationship, it's nothing but clear skies ahead.

[miraculousturtle]

to you, i thee wed (chapter nine)

They didn’t know they were marrying each other until the bride got to the altar. And then panic ensued. Married at First Sight AU.

(AO3//FF.net)

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

WC: 8.5K

thanks @booksfullofme for the edits :)

The morning air is crisp, an icy wind settling into her lungs as Marinette gazes into the Atlantic Ocean shining brightly from the warm sun. They have oddly been blessed by good weather despite the first snowstorm that trapped them here. Not that Marinette is complaining; Faroe Islands—Vagar, to be exact—has been wonderful and a breath of fresh air.

It’s almost like magic, she thinks. The quaint little villages, the supple snowfall, the way her heart easily and speedily beats with her husband. It’s almost like magic, she can maybe see the way that things are more than what they seem, almost as if some greater force in this universe planned everything to be more than happenstance.

She tucks that thought behind her ribs and opens her arms wide to catch sunshine that beams from the heavens above her. Warmth trickles through her borrowed clothes, sinking through the well-loved fabric and seeping into her bones. The snow from yesterday melted and has left a world of green where white once laid.

She’s only slightly winded after sprinting past Adrien to reach the top of the cliff, the ocean before her as if that is more than a reward. Little islands pebble her view, just as green as the grass that lays at her feet. To the right, a waterfall cascades into the sea, and to the left, a small village weathers daily ocean breezes.

She stands at the edge of the world, ocean waves washing over her, leaving an impression on her soul. In this moment, it is only her and the sea, cradled lovingly by the sun. Light and water blend together, stitching up her seams and her heart is full with the simplicity.  

“Wow, it’s—breathtaking,” Marinette mumbles, words only half-forming on her lips.

Her fingers itch for her sketchbook: she can see the way the grasses could become a fringe, can see the way the ocean waves puff out a skirt, can see the way gold stitching swirls into blue. If she holds out her thumb and her forefinger and frames the world with her hands, maybe she can commit it all to memory; let magic be part of the memory instead of relying on a photograph.

Not that she has anything against photos, no. That would be silly, but sometimes memories that are hazy are better for documenting the world between reality and dreams, and Marinette feels like she’s been walking in a dream for days now.

“God, I am out of shape,” Adrien groans, interrupting her thoughts and snapping her back to reality. He was a few steps behind her when she had raced forward, unable to contain her excitement at reaching the top.

(She’s only slightly competitive. Only slightly. Just slightly.)

Marinette tears her gaze away from the endless inspirations before her and lets her eyes fall on her huffing husband, a smile dancing at her lips. “You don’t play basketball, fence, or whatever else you used to do?”

His eyes narrow slightly as he digs into his backpack, trying to paw at a water bottle seemingly lost among his things. “Ha. Ha. Very funny. Make fun of the rich kid who did every extracurricular under the sun.”

She unclips hers first from her strap and hands it to him. Their fingers touch, sparking electricity and lightning through her skin. “Not making fun,” she says a second later. “Just stating a fact. You were always so busy, but never dropping the ball? It was kinda cool.”

“Cool?” Adrien asks, his glare softening and stumbling into a gratuitous grin as he flips open the lid. A silent thank you is exchanged between them for the water as he drinks half of it in haste.

Which makes him choke, much to Marinette’s amusement. He narrows his eyes at her again and she schools her smile into a trembling and haphazard mess. She feels so mischievous with him that it strikes her funny sometimes, almost if he’s been a friend she’s actually had all along. Not that he hasn’t per say, but—

It’s hard to not remember Adrien when he was a child, Marinette thinks. That’s who she knew best, figuratively speaking. She really didn’t know him at all, but her memories of him then are always with her now. Always surfacing in the way he smiles or laughs, there at the edges when he talks about his family, breaking through when they talk about their friends.

But she also forgets that Adrien didn’t know she knew him. Didn’t know that she loved him. Were only friends because their friends were friends. Didn’t keep in touch after high school because theirs was a relationship that required being classmates to continue.

Instead, she tells him. “But yeah, to be so busy but still be so amazing.”

He pauses for a moment before grinning broadly and walking towards the drop-off. “Thanks, Marinette. That’s really nice of you to say.”

“I’m just saying the truth!” she laughs and skips to his side.

Shly, she takes his hand and gives it a squeeze. “Really, I meant it. You’re a really hard worker.”

Adrien doesn’t say anything in return, his own fingers tightening around hers.

They bask in the sun for a few moments, Marinette grabbing her phone and making the two of them take selfies together. It’s natural the way the fit against each other, the way her back sinks into his chest and his arms come around her. Adrien presses his cheek to hers, his chin resting on her shoulder and she swears he can feel how big her smile is despite that he can see it on the screen. She’s happy.

(She labels the words #honeymoonbabes over the photo. Add a few hearts, a couple of smiley faces and—perfect. It’s sent to Alya in a heartbeat. )

The dirt crunches beside her and Marinette finds that Adrien has perched himself on the edge of the cliff, his feet dangling thousands of feet in the air without a care. She’s done the same countless times, sometimes feeling more at home above a city’s skyline than beneath it. He must feel the same with the ease he displays when he pats the spot next to him.

She counts the seconds as the waves lap against the rocks below them. One, two, a cymbal crash signifying the water smacking into land. One, two, the water climbs up as if it wants to be a man. One, two—

“So, let’s see today’s homework. Oh, um,” Adrien says, his brows pinched together as he reads the newest email from the doctors.

Marinette leans into his shoulder. “Yes?”

He leans back. “It says we should talk about failed relationships.”

She laughs, surprise bubbling at the thought. “Oh god. Wow. Okay, should I go first?”

“Please?”

She takes a deep breath, anchoring herself to the wind and the waves and the heat from the man beside her. There is nothing wrong with what she’s about to say. They’re married now. And he might not be in love with her, but they’re married now.

It’s the assignment , she tells herself. Kill two birds with one stone .

“Okay. So. I’ve had a few partners. Not many, but I think the most important one I had was the one that was the shortest. Kinda. In that we-were-dating way. We were unoffical for a lot longer, but we were only really together for a bit.”

“How come?”

Marinette sighs, bittersweetness swelling through her being.. “Well, first off, I’m happy to say I don’t have any ill feelings towards her....”

Adrien waits a half second longer than usual to reply. “...her?”

This is fine, Marinette , she tells herself. He’s allowed to be curious.

She fights the need to be defensive, to be aggressive, to maybe pretend she actually said him instead of her, blame it on the slip of the tongue. “Uh, yeah...sometimes, not usually. I usually like men, but this time...it was a her.”

“Cool. Go on?”

She lets out a breath that had tucked itself between her ribs, pressing up against her heart. “Thanks,” she breathes, then continues. “I went to Italy for a summer and I fell head over heels for her. This girl named Francesca. A beautiful Italian girl with sun-kissed skin and the most mysterious dark eyes. She was. Yeah, she was wow .

“We both were in the same program and we shared a room together. It was...I was instantly attracted to her and I clicked with her so much and I really fell for her. We had so much in common! I’ve never been with someone where we had so much in common. And her designs were breathtaking…”

Adrien grabs her hand, his thumb rubbing soothing circles.“What happened?”

Marinette sighed. “Well, the summer ended, you know. We kept in touch for a while, but it was hard to be in a long distance relationship like that. She did come for Christmas once, but while my family was accepting...hers was not…” she trails off.

She remembers the snow in Paris as Francesa said goodbye, the way her lips felt upon hers, the sorrow they left behind when they parted. Hairline fragments of what could've been shattered by distance and unacceptance.   

“In the end, she wasn’t happy and neither was I,” Marinette says says quietly. “And, well—she’s happy and I’m happy now. A part of me will always belong to her, but it’s okay. We never could be.”

She says the last part with her eyes fixed on the light reflecting off the water. Sunshine and Francesca go hand in hand. Bright, beautiful, vivacious beings that although Marinette loves both deeply, she also can’t particularly keep either contained. And that’s okay.

Adrien brings her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles. “You love people so intensely. I think it’s amazing how you’re not jaded by that relationship, but it sounds like you grew from it. Doesn’t sound like a failure at all.”

“Well, Francesca was an easy lover,” she chuckles.  “Kind and understanding. My real last relationship actually wasn’t as great. I became a doormat and I hated every second of it. He was a real douche, but I don’t want to talk about him right now, if that’s okay.”

Adrien squeezes her fingers. “That’s totally okay,” he assures her. “You said your piece and now it’s mine, I guess.”

Marinette gives a small smile and nods. “Yes, let me guess, you were a heartbreaker, right?”

He wrinkles his nose and rakes his other hand through his hair. “I guess? I don’t know...I don’t really have much to say. They were nice, but that’s about it…”

“Just nice?” she teases.

“Yeah, just nice. Like I had a few girlfriends and they were nice. Our first dates were nice. Our, you know,” he blushes, “sex lives were, uh, nice. But that was it. Everything was just—we dated.

“And you know, I thought I would fall super head over heels for them, but I never did. I was happy, but not ecstatic or thrilled or—well, I never felt as excited as I do right now. With you.”

Marinette’s heart skips a beat. She grips the ground to not tumble over the cliff, her mind reeling. “You feel ecstatic?! With me?!”

He—how can he? Be so happy with her? It just doesn’t make sense. He’s had this whole life to live thus far, but with her—?   

“Haha, yeah,” he says, blushing more, his gaze far from hers. “Like when I was young, I was able to crush really hard, but that’s just a crush. When I got older, dating didn’t excite me much, so I thought that maybe something was wrong with me. Maybe I only liked the idea of love, not actually being in love. I wasn’t sure, but when I saw the ad for the arranged marriage, I applied on a whim….” he admits softly. “Because I didn’t think they would want me, but they did and I realized that I really wanted it too! I forgot what it was like to want someone...”

“Oh,” she says, dumbfounded with lips parted.  

Marinette is stuck staring at the smile buried in his cheek as he looks fondly over the ocean. The sun always finds him, making his hair gleam, and she wonders how she got so lucky. She—wow. Adrien looks at her then, his face prompted into a bemusing smile at her expression.

“Hmmm?”

“I just...you wanted me?” she asks, heat crawling up her neck.

Oh god, that sounds so dumb to say out loud, she thinks and wishes she could stuff the previous words back into her mouth.

(A part of her whispers that she won’t be good enough, that he’s going to realize the ugliness that hides under all her pretty fabric, that she’s just going to be nice in the way the others were nice .

Another part of her tells that little voice to fuck off.)

Adrien rubs the back of his neck, bashful and happy. “Of course I did. I— actually filmed a video diary for my future bride— you,” he emphasizes. “It’s really grossly sappy and I’ve been meaning to give it to you…so you could see how happy I was when I found out I had a match, but—after I learned that you were my wife I was so embarrassed.  Because we knew each other, ha ha. It’s part of your wedding gift, actually...”

Marinette stops breathing before scampering to her feet. “Up, up, up!”

She pulls her husband up to stand with her, a good bit away from the edge, and she shuffles her feet, feeling herself swinging side to side.

“Yes?” Adrien asks, amused at her antics.

With no grace and complete wiggling, she blurts. “I—can I hug you? I really want to hug you.”

“Uh.”

“Like, I know we just started kissing and things and cuddle,” she starts, halfway to shouting awkwardly. “Like yesterday!  But I just—really want to throw myself at you and have you catch me and oh my god, who says these things to their husband?!” she finishes, throwing her hands up in the air.

Adrien’s face goes blank, his grey scarf flapping in the wind before he breaks down in laughter, doubling over. “Oh my god, Marinette,” he wheezes. “You’re—you’re—”

Mortification crawls up her throat and Marinette covers her face with her hands, turning around so he can’t look at her. Embarrassment rolls off her in waves.   

Adrien laughter settles down and a kind hand is at her shoulder, dragging her into his arms. “You never have to ask to hug or kiss me, Marinette,” he tells her, mirth and good things intertwined with his words. “I’m yours, anytime. And it’s okay! I feel like a dweeb too just about every second. I feel really exposed. This is...hard, and I get that.”

She buries her face at the base of his throat. “Yeah. Exposed is a great way to put it, you know. We’re already married and everything is moving fast.”

His touch feels warm through her jacket. “G-good fast?” he swallows.

“I think so,” she hums and sinks into his embrace. “They told me that this would happen. The doctors. That this wouldn’t be easy.”

He lays his head atop hers and takes a little breath. “Yeah. Me too. It’s different when it’s happening than when you think about it.”

Peace caresses over them and Marinette feels so warm. And protected, if she has to be honest. She’d didn’t think her husband would make her feel at such ease, but maybe that’s the benefit of marrying someone you know in a blind marriage. You can let your guard down around them a lot better and—

It’s been a long, long time since someone has made her feel as comfortable as this. She grins to herself a bit, different green eyes flashing in her mind followed by some god awful pun.

Cat-ch you later, my favorite Bugaboo.   

“Gah, okay, you know what,” she declares as she pulls back from his embrace. “Let’s stop being sappy. I don’t think I can handle baring my soul anymore for today!”

Adrien rolls his eyes with a chuckle. “Okay, wife,” he says as he brushes his lips against her forehead. “What do you have in mind?”

Marinette smirks, looking devilish. “Well, I think I saw a pub or two in town. And there should be some music. I think that would be an awesome way to end our honeymoon.”

“You want to go out?”

“Nah,” she dismisses playfully. “I want to go drinking. Think you can keep up?”

Adrien waits a moment to respond before breaking out in a challenging grin. “Oh, I’ll drink you under the table!”

Marinette laughs and pushes him away. “Ha, I highly doubt that. I’m practically a tank!”

She dances away from him, her step springy with her excitement. The sun is higher in the sky now, trickling further towards noontime than morning.    

“A tank?”

“Yeah, dude. I outdrink everyone. It’s like my special power.”

“Okay, Nino,” Adrien snorts before saying, “Look, I was a model. I think I know how to party.”

Marinette puts her hands up in a mock sign of surrender. “Not saying you don’t, but I’m just saying I know how to better. That’s all.”

Adrien laughs and grabs her hand, leading her back towards the path they took before. Their steps are in line as they descend away from the cliff. “Okay, you’re so on. Tonight, I shall show you who the real victor will be.”

All around them, the mountains are green and alive and Marinette feels just the same. She feels just as tall, just as powerful, just as everlasting.

“Sounds good, but let’s play a game.”

“What do you have in mind? I don’t know many drinking games for two...”

Marinette kisses the back of his hand. “The bigger the drink, the bigger the secret. I mean, since you’re totally able to handle it, you should be able to open up. Right, husband?”

“Doesn't that seem counterproductive? Who needs to take the shot? You or me?”

“If I want to learn something big about you, I need to take the drink. Same goes for you. Fair?”

“...did you just come up with this on the fly?”

Marinette laughs. “No! Alya and I play it, though now that we know everything about each other, we just drink our sad lives away.”

Adrien shakes his head. “Ah, a noble pastime,” he responds sagely. “Anyway, you’re on! I hope you’re prepared to bare your soul to me again. I gotta beat Alya now.”

“In your dreams, Adrien. You’re the one who is going to have to tell me everything.”

“Do you think you’re ready?” he jokes. “I mean. We have only been married for four days. We can just, you know, take things slow?”

“Adrien, let me tell you something,” she says. “If I didn’t jump feet first, I would never do anything. So. We’re gonna do this!”

He laughs. “Okay, Marinette. Whatever you want. I just want you to know that we have all the time in the world. I am excited to go out though. It will be a fun way to spend the last night. I’m a little sad that the plane got fixed so quickly.”

They take a swift left and find some other hikers on the path going the way they just came. Both couples exchange pleasantries, waves and big smiles and Marinette would be lying if she didn’t say that she liked the way everyone thought she and Adrien were a real couple. They don’t know them, but to strangers, they seem happy.

“Me too,” she agrees. “We’ll have to come back when the weather is warmer. And I know that we can take things slow, but I’m just—I don’t know, itching to do something crazy?”

“Like marry a stranger?” he teases.

“Mmmm. Pretty sure I’ve done that.”

“Ah, you’re right. You have,” he says. “God, I hope there’s no turbulence tomorrow.”

“Eh, we’re leaving in the evening, right? So we can just sleep through most of it. Plus, even if we’re hungover, we can have some of Ebbi’s mom’s breakfast.”

“Thank god for that, but I’m going to miss her cooking.”

“Well, we’ll just have to go to my parents’ the morning after we get back. My dad seriously loves breakfast.”

Adrien dramatically faces the heavens, mouthing praises. Marinette tries her best not to laugh, but fails miserably.

He’s kinda perfect, she thinks. She hasn’t laughed so easily with someone in a long time.

His face shifts and as he slows his pace, she matches his. They take their time, just like the clouds rolling in overhead.

“That reminds me,” he starts, “we’re supposed to go house hunting when we get back. Find a place that’s ours rather than staying at mine or yours. Do you have any preferences?”

Marinette remembers that email, the one that said that house hunting is to start immediately after they get back from the honeymoon. Truthfully, she just wants to rest, but apparently when you’re part of a six week study, there is no such thing.

“My shop isn’t too far from the university you work at, if I remember correctly,” she mentions. “So, we can try my neighborhood? I just—not to talk about finances right now,” she quickly adds, “but you do know that I can help pay for things. Even if you’re, like, super rich.”

“I know,” he says, his fingers drumming on the back of her hand. “We’ll figure it out when we get home. There’s no rush and even if you can, I don’t mind paying for everything.”

She presses her lips together, annoyance starting to surface. “Well, yes. I know, but I do. I just—”

Adrien must feel the same. “Marinette, I’m serious. I’ll take care of you. If you’ll let me.”

“And Adrien,” she says. “I’m serious. I’ll help and take care of you.”

“Mari—” he starts to say.

But she cuts him off, determined and keeping her growing irritation at bay. “Can we drop this? I really don’t want to talk about money.”

Adrien sighs and takes a deep breath. “No, I understand. This isn’t the time and place. We can talk more about it later.”

“Exactly,” she says, and the mood shifts back into something lighter. “Besides, I just want to enjoy what time we have left before we go home.”

Adrien hums in agreement as they wind around some trees, their fingers grazing over moss covered rocks. They don’t say much, the air between them better but not the same as when they found the ocean, the sun shining and bright.

“Oh my god,” Adrien says before breaking out in hysterical laughter.

Marinette shoots him a funny look, raising an eyebrow. “Um, are you okay?”

“I just remembered.”

“What?”

Gesturing to the air, Adrien manages to calm down enough, gasping in between breaths until he keeps his smile only slightly twitching. “When I was trying to tell Nino, I took him to come pick out wedding rings, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Marinette says, curious and confused.

“When we were there, he mentioned that if things didn’t go with my girl because I was obviously buying jewelry for a girl, I should date you .”

And it might be because her left hand is clasped in his, the glittering diamond refracting the rays streaming through the trees above them and—

This is real, isn’t it? We’re real, you and me.

A smile tugs at her mouth. “He did not.”

“He did! I was like, dude, I’m actually getting married and lo and behold,” he says, throwing an arm around her as they walk side by side, “here we are.”

Marinette wraps her own arm around his side, his hip digging into her waist. “Here we are.”

Their steps align like the sun at high noon as they descend the mountain back to civilization.

The moon is fat as Adrien and Marinette walk to the pub bundled up in thick coats, breath misting in the night air. Snowfall from a few days ago has turned to slush, the sidewalks black and illuminated by store lights instead. Laughter rings in the air, people rushing to and fro from pub to restaurant to pub again.

Ebbi is with them too, carrying a large guitar case slung over a shoulder. His bright red hair is pulled back, and he reminds Adrien of Jagged Stone. Easygoing, tall, and cool. No pet alligator though.

“I’m so glad you both decided to come out tonight,” Ebbi says. “My band is playing and I promise you that it’s going to be awesome.”

Marinette grins, her pink lipstick looking plum in the darkness. “I’m sure you’re going to be great! Do you sing too?”

Ebbi awkwardly tugs on his scarf. “Kinda. I’m getting better at it. My cousin is a lot better and her voice is kill-er.”

“Which one is she again? Was she at the big breakfast?”

Ebbis snorts. “She’s always at the big breakfast. Ah, but Alice was the one manning the stove. If she never lives her dream of being a rock star, she wants to open a really fancy restaurant on the island. Serve celebrities and whatnot.”

Adrien pipes up and a part of him wonders why he must always talk about food. “That’s really dope. I hope she gets both though. A rock star chef would be super awesome. She’d serenade me while serving some soup.”

Marinette laughs. “Wow, say that five times fast.”

“Well, I think she’d sere—”

“Adrien! I was kidding!”

“Sure you were, that’s why you dared me to say it.”

“Wow, Kim much?” Marinette huffs. “I didn’t dare you!”

He doesn’t say anything, but her nose crinkles when she’s miffed. It’s kinda really adorable. Okay, super really adorable. Her hair is pinned away from her face and her cheeks are rosy from both the cold and her blush. Also, if he has to be honest—and he’s usually always honest—her eyeliner makes her eyes look more dangerous, and, well—  

—Adrien might have a thing for dangerous women who could definitely punch someone’s lights out when needed.    

“Uh-huh.”

“Seriously—”

“Okay, lovebirds,” Ebbi says, breaking their banter with an easy smile. “Enough fighting. We’re here. I hope you brought some strong stomachs. Prepare to drink, motherfuckers.”

“You gonna drink with us too, Ebbi?” Marinette asks.

He shakes his head. “Most likely not. I can’t drink when I perform or I’ll throw up, but I will come check on you guys later!”  

“Sounds good, man,” Adrien says, giving his friend a strong handshake.

Ebbi heads inside as Adrien and Marinette stand outside the small venue. It looks like any other bar he’s seen. Brown walls and dark windows. Voices from inside pour outside and music plays a little loudly.

Adrien grabs Marinette’s hand and opens the door. “Are you ready to lose, my dear?”

She smirks. “In your dreams, sweetheart .”

Sweat, booze, and good vibes instantly hit them in the face. It’s mildly crowded and the atmosphere is lively, everyone happy as they chat and grab drinks from the bar. On the stage the band sets up, Ebbi greeting his fellow bandmates with an enthusiastic cheer. They pause for a moment to say hello before going back to setting up.

Marinette pulls Adrien to the bar. “What’ll be your poison?”

Adrien smirks. “Ladies first. I’ll have what you’ll have. I’ll even pay this round.”

She rolls her eyes, stifling a laugh. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Moneybags. Okay, let’s see. Let’s start easy,” she says. Turning to the bartender, she points at an expensive bottle of vodka. “Two shots!”  

(She says it in minced Faroese learned from a haphazard lesson taught on the walk down from the inn.)

Adrien opens up his phone and loosely translates the words to put it on a tab when the man delivers the drinks. Both he and Marinette grab their glasses. “So, how big is a shot versus a sip before we start? For secrets, that is,” he asks.

She taps her chin in thought. “I think a sip is something simple like favorite colors, a shot is like a medium secret, and to drink the whole glass or whoever buys the next round gets a big secret. Sound fair?”

Adrien laughs. “I hope you brought your wallet, Mrs. Moneybags, because if not, then I get lots of big secrets.”

Marinette points at her purse at her side, smirking. “Don’t worry, I got cash, so it’ll be even-stevens.”

“Alright, alright. Drink your drink, wife, and tell me a medium-sized secret.”

Marinette smiles and downs her drink, visibly shaking as the icy drink goes through her. “Ah, okay,” she starts. “Let’s see, for a medium-sized secret. I was actually rejected from my fashion school when I first applied.”

Adrien blinks, a bit stunned. Had he heard right? “What?”

“Yep, totally rejected. Little letter in a little envelope and everything. It was awful. I just—couldn’t accept that I was rejected, so…I might have...you know, gone back and demanded that they evaluate my application. I’m, what do they say, headstrong and stubborn? So yeah, that’s what I did.”    

“Oh my god, Marinette, what did they do?”

She looks so satisfied when he asks, smug and pleased as she leans against the bar. Adrien is right, he thinks he likes dangerous women, and there is nothing more dangerous than Marinette—a woman who at first glance appears cute and calm, but if you peel back a few of her layers, she is ruthless and cunning. It’s…intoxicating, and he’s not talking about the vodka.

“So,” she starts, her finger tracing the rim of her shotglass, acting coy. “The director actually came out and stood really important-like and told me if I was able to create a brand new dress using a potato sack and a garbage bag that was actually stylish and wear it to the office the next day, he’d admit me. So I did. Much to his surprise.

“We found out a few days later that they wanted to accept me,” she adds sheepishly, her coy demeanor slipping away and becoming awkward, “but my high school didn’t put the correct graduation date so they thought I didn’t have my basic education. Which was really embarrassing? But commendable, he told me.”

Adrien wheezes with laughter. “Oh my god, so you really marched up to the school wearing a sack and a trash bag. That’s so wonderful.”

“It was summer and really hot so yeah, not so much, but,” she singsongs. “Your turn!”

“Ah, yes. My turn. Hmm, okay. Um, well, did you know that when I moved to America I did acting for a little bit and starred in an indie film?” he tells her with a cringe.

“Um, what?” Marinette asks, somewhat giggling.

Adrien pulls out his phone and googles it for her. The movie is titled The One In Your Arms and the cover is Adrien and this pretty redhead laying in the grass. Underneath it, Marinette can clearly see that it has 3/10 stars.

Marinette steals the phone and clicks the description.

Meet Tristan, lonely French boy far from home. Meet Annie, the quirky country girl trying to see the world. They meet at a crossroads when one is trying to settle somewhere while the other is trying to run away. Of course, love tends to get in the way.

Marinette lets out a peal of laughter. “Oh my god, Adrien. This looks glorious. Can we please watch it? How long is it?”

He sighs with defeat, but smiles. “It’s a little over an hour. And we can watch it. It’s awful, but it’s a good movie to watch when drinking.”

“Excellent! Okay, we need more drinks. Let’s get some actual drinks.”

Marinette fishes out some cash from her wallet and hands it to the bartender. Adrien orders a whiskey sour while Marinette gets a margarita. Two tangy drinks for some tangy people, Adrien thinks, but doesn’t say. That would be extremely weird.  

“Okay, now that we both have ordered drinks, big secrets are up for grabs!” she exclaims as they settle into a secluded booth on the other side of the bar.

Adrien smiles, holding his glass up to clink hers. “Easy there tiger, let me sip some, okay?”

They exchange small secrets for a while.  His favorite color is green, hers is pink. They both enjoy cracking the shell of a creme brule. She’s never had enchiladas before, and Adrien has never tried crawfish. Adrien learned Chinese because at first he thought that was the language people in anime spoke when he was little. It all started with a tutor who only had Dragonball dubbed in Chinese, didn’t even realize that Japan was an actual place until he was about nine. Marinette didn’t learn to tie her shoes until she was ten.

Adrien finishes his drink first. “Ah! Tell me something big!” he demands with an easy smile.

Marinette sighs and downs her drink right after. “Okay, so we both know that I had a big crush on you, right?”

Adrien nods, his face flush and smile wide. “Yes, this has been brought up many times now, much to my amusement.”

She narrows her eyes at him and kicks his shoe, making him yelp in surprise. “Anyway,” she says loudly. “I may have been a crazy girl with a crush. Only slightly. Intensely?” she says, wincing. “And I tried asking you to the movies and may have left you a voicemail calling you hot stuff…”

Adrien pauses for a moment, thinking back, tapping his chin. “I..I don’t remember this?”

Marinette takes a deep breath and stares at the ice in her glass, her straw swirling the cubes. “Exactly. Because, well, I might have stolen your phone and deleted the voicemail?”

In the background, the band introduces themselves and starts to play, people in the crowd cheering. Adrien says nothing and neither does Marinette.

He swallows and quietly asks. “What?”

Marinette awkwardly looks up at him, fiddling with a lock of her hair that slipped from behind her ear. “I stole your phone to delete a voicemail because I accidentally called you hot stuff when trying to ask you to the movies.”

“Hot stuff?”

“Yes,” she confirms, eyes looking away.

“As you thought I was hot? Stuff?”

“...Yes.”

“And you deleted the voicemail?”

Marinette doesn’t say anything this time, her eyes far away, her cheeks darkening from the light of the room as he stares at her profile. She looks beautiful, he thinks, the shiney silver of her necklace turning technicolor. The black leather of her jacket sloping her over her shoulder, the magenta color of her top, the way her hair is slicked behind her ears. She looks like an editorial piece. But she’s still Marinette, nervous and sweet in the way her body shakes in the way her knees are bouncing, chewing on the inside of her cheek, her blush crawling up her neck.

This moment is perfect and Adrien decides that he’s happy.

He laughs deeply from his belly and clutches his sides, in part at finally reacting to Marinette and in part finally relishing in his own feelings. “Oh my god, Marinette, you should have left the voicemail! That would have been the best! I wouldn’t have known what to do and would have been so confused. Oh my god!”

He can see it now, fourteen year old him panicking and asking Plagg what to do, but the little god would have gave awful advice. Most likely would have told him to just stick to cheese than girls. He could see himself asking Ladybug, blushing and stumbling and utterly a mess. It would have been fun he thinks.

He briefly wonders if he would have said yes.  

Marinette’s tension slips from her shoulders. “You’re not mad?”

Adrien wipes his eyes, feeling warm and light. Contentment washes over him as he leans back in his plush seat. “Why would I be mad?  This happened years ago! I honestly think this is hysterical.”

“Oh, good to know,” she says with a small smile.

He reaches across the table and takes her hand, his thumb rubbing her knuckles. “Just one thing.”

“Yes?” Marinette asks, leaning closer.

If Adrien was a smidge braver, he’d kiss her right now. He wants too, but they’re in a room filled with people and the things between him and Marinette are overwhelming. Wonderful, but overwhelming and he’s constantly on edge. In the best of ways though.

“You have to call me hot stuff for now on when you ask me out on dates,” he smirks. “Like it’s now a requirement.”

She throws rolls her eyes and chuckles. “Haha, sure. I’ll be sure to ask you every other Friday, okay?”

“As long as I get to ask you out on those Fridays you’re not asking me out.”

Marinette places her other hand on top of his, her fingertips cool to his skin. “Let me check my calendar, but I think there’s an opening for you.”

Adrien sends her an appreciative smile and kisses her fingers. “I’ll take any day you’ll give me.”

Marinette grins and the still moment between them hits Adrien that it’s his turn to tell her something big .  

He takes a deep breath and composes himself before moving to sit beside of her. Marinette only shoots him a questioning look, but scoots over, twisting her body to face him. Their knees knock as he reaches for her hands again.  “Okay, so my turn for a big secret. Let’s see. It’s going to be less fun, but I promise you it’s quite drama filled and important for you to know. And I’m gonna chicken out if I don’t tell you now.”

“Oh...okay?” she says, her brow quirking. “Whatever it is, I’m all ears.”  

“So, you know how I didn’t have a mom? Kinda?”

She pets the back of his hand. “Yeah. I thought she passed away,” she says softly.

“Well, yeah. We thought so too,” he groans, trying to keep his voice even. “Like ‘went missing and never came home because she was dead’ kind of thing, you know. Like in a soap opera.”

“That does...like a soap opera plot line,” she concedes.

Adrien closes his eyes for a moment, trying to get gather the words he wants to say. His heart is beating his chest and he’s torn because he can still remember the way his mother’s hand would comb his hair, the way she would tuck him into bed at night. She was his best friend for so long until she was gone.

He lets out a dry laugh. “Yeah well, here’s the goddamn plot twist.”

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” he sighs. Twirling his finger he says, “Ding dong, my beloved mama is not actually dead and is alive and well and shows up to my dad’s funeral.”

Marinette blinks at him a moment, before her lips curl into an unpleasant frown.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Yep,” he says bitterly with a tight smile. “Reveals her living self at my dad’s funeral,” he sneers. “Mourning him and looking like she hasn’t aged a damn day and I’m here crying, thinking I lost both my parents…” he trails, trying to reel in his burning feelings. “One to an “accident” and the other one because he was so heartbroken that he couldn't live without her.”

Marinette’s smiles solemnly for a moment before throwing her arms around him and kissing his cheek. “I’m so, so, so, sorry.”

Her breath tickles the crook of his neck and he feels better as he wraps his arms around her and holds her close too. She’s a good anchor point and keeps the bad thoughts from that day away.

He settles his cheek atop her head. “Of course you’re sorry. You’re a good person,” he says. He then sighs and plays with the edges of her hair. “I’m sorry for telling you this. I told you this wasn’t a fun secret, but I really need to tell you this since you’re my wife.”

He kisses her cheek too before pulling away slightly, and bluntly says. “Anyway, long story short is that my mom is alive and is not of sound mind? She will show up from time to time despite the fact that I have a restraining order against her. She claims she’s from a different timeline and she, my father, and I are supposed to be a happy family. Also , she swears that I should still be thirteen.”

“Wow, Adrien. What the actual fuck,” she awkwardly laughs.

He doesn’t blame her. It’s either laugh and cry and it’s easier to laugh how bizarre his mom is and the whole not being dead thing then cry about it.

(And he hates being angry about it. He hates it the most of all.)

“Yeah, but she’s pretty harmless, just not well. And I know that I should be more sympathetic towards her, but I can’t. She can’t even tell me where she was for all those years,” he says flatly. “I do give her money though, I just can’t be around her. And she will most likely pop up when we get home and—”

Marinette places a hand on Adrien’s face, stilling him. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you told me. This is. Wow. A lot to take in, but thank you. I’m sorry your life is a soap opera. You know, missing moms who actually are alive and blind arranged marriages to people you actually know. Quite a tough life for a rich ex-model turned physics professor who happens to be the king of a fashion empire.”

Adrien smiles, and this time it’s real. “Well, the blind marriage part isn’t so bad. Nor is being a professor. That’s fun too.”

“Okay, professor, do you have some dancing shoes?” Marinette wonderfully says for a change of topic.

He chuckles and is ever thankful that she’s his wife.

“Ah, m’lady,” he says with a twinkle in his eye. “I possess the best dancing shoes.”

Marinette glances down at his feet, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yes, kind sir. I see your sneakers are quite the glass slippers this footwear season.”

“Pshh. As if these are sneakers. Laces do not sneakers make; these are casual dress shoes,” he defends. “See, it even has a little flare with three black stripes on the side against some nice grey suede. C’mon Marinette, you’re a designer.”

She rolls her eyes and shrugs. “Men’s fashion is okay. I will admit my shoe designs for men are more basic and extremely casual. Shoes are just their own animal.”

“Nah, I agree,” he nods. “But I’d love to see your designs! And you’re more than welcome to look at my father’s designs if you wanted, you know? He has thousands of them that we keep stored away.”

Marinette gapes at him, speechless. “Seriously? You’d let me see your father’s designs?”

Adrien smiles, wondering how she couldn’t have known that already. “Of course. You’re my wife, Marinette. And you’re also my friend.”

Marinette doesn’t say anything but leans forward, brushing her lips against Adrien’s in a soft and simple kiss. He feels like he’s been zapped. “You’re amazing, you know?” she whispers before kissing him once more. Before he can reply, she grabs his hand and pushes him out of the seat. “Dance with me!”

Marinette guides him to the dance floor, weaving in and out of people, and he feels like he’s stepped into a blessed dream. One where he’s safe and happy and warm and—

Adrien’s heart fills as the lights flash off Marinette’s skin. She looks like an ethereal spirit, grinning in the darkness as she loops her arms around his neck. He places his hands on the small of her back, his thumbs brushing her hip bones. She’s beautiful and for the millionth time, takes his breath away.

He leans down and kisses her, captures her mouth with his and Marinette closes the space between them. She tastes like good things and a bright future. Things are so natural and effortless with her, the way her mouth is warm against his and he feels so light. Like she’s always been by his side. He—

—well, he doesn’t know that for sure, but he feels like he could. Give him a week and he’s positive that Marinette will own every space in his heart.

From the stage, they hear Ebbi start to sing, enticing the crowd to dance and holler with them. The atmosphere is intoxicating, the beat syncing with their hearts as they drag their hands up and down the other’s body. Her fingers wind into his hair, her nails grazing the base of his skull and his knees feel weak. He holds her closer, pressing her to him as if he can’t breathe anymore. She holds him just as close, her breath filling his lungs.

He nips at her bottom lip and wickedly grins in the kiss when she moans at the way his hands hold the back of her neck. The world is perfect, the way he feels fire burning under his skin, joy blossoming in his chest, and desire rushing to his head.

Marinette pulls away breathless. “Wow.”

He kisses the tip of her nose.”Wow, indeed.”

She wrinkles his nose and looks fondly at him. Marinette brushes her lips against his for a moment for skipping out of his hold, laughing madly as she disappears into the crowd. Adrien blinks before laughing to himself, running his hands in his already mussed hair, never wanting this dream to end. She’s back minutes later holding some Jell-O shots and a wondrous, dangerous grin.  

Adrien balks, laughter at the edge of his voice. “Those are sneaky things and you know it.”

“Maybe I’m a sneaky thing,” she says with a wink.

His heart jumps at that, twisting with pleasure, breathlessly.

“Oh, I know that at least.”

They share more medium-sized secrets. Marinette didn’t have any friends until Alya. Adrien almost ran away from home when his mother disappeared, but he couldn’t leave his father alone. Marinette was almost engaged in her last relationship but said no because she found out the guy was cheating. Adrien started up a charity in his father’s name for children to go to art school.

Ebbi jumps down the from the stage a while later, happy and smiling and puts an arm around each of them. “Okay, I can drink now,” he wolfishly grins.

And drink they do. Long forgotten is the game, no more secrets, just smiles and laughs as they all drink, sing bad karaoke, and drink shot after shot.

It’s a blur, a wonderful and crazy blur as everyone dances and the booze tastes like Marinette’s kisses.Or Marinette’s kisses taste like booze. He’s not quite sure, but it doesn’t matter at the moment as they walk back to their hotel in the chilly, still night, stopping at every other lamppost or wall to kiss each other. On the mouth, on their necks, taste the other and keep warm in the below-freezing temperatures.

It’s like a hazy dream, not real, but too real to be fake. It’s wonderful as they try to tiptoe upstairs to their room, trying not wake everyone by their laughter. In the back of his mind, he knows that Plagg will be annoyed that he stumbled in at two in the morning, but hopefully the little god will understand that there is a beautiful woman who is demanding his attention at this hour and he’s married to her.

Marinette sheds her coat and he does the same, and he kisses her hard on the mouth and pushes her to lay on the bed. She follows his lead and giggles, her hands in his hair and bringing his mouth to hers. Her tongue traces his lips and he’s helpless at her touch.

She bites at his lower lip, kissing him fiercely before breaking them apart. Sighing happily, she rolls them to lay on their sides.“Hi,” she slurs, her eyes wide and bright.

Her mascara has smudged a little, her lipstick gone from her mouth, but Adrien has never seen someone more alluring.

Adrien feels lightheaded—happily drunk—as he giggles too. “Hi.”

“Did ya drink more than me?” she asks.

Adrien tries to count, he really does, but he just blurts. “15. I had 15.”

It seems like the right answer. How is he supposed to count anyway when there’s such a stunning woman in front of him? And she’s his wife? Counting is impossible. Just impossible.

“Aw man, you did drink more than me,” Marinette yawns before kisses his nose. “Okay, I have a big secret for you.”

He settles in on his side of the mattress, his hand resting in the dip of her waist. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmmm. Biggest best secret ever.”

“Tell ‘e,” he slurs,  because of both sleep and drink. Sh

She giggles again and gets up from the bed, swaying a little bit. “Okay,” she says to herself and tries to make a serious expression. “Just kidding! No big secret for you right now!”

Adrien pouts, drunk and sleepily. “What, really? We—I played your game.”

Marinette sits down on the bed, the light illuminating her like an angel. His angel. She gins and boops his nose. “And I won. Or you won,” she mumbles to herself. She looks back at him and smirks though, holding her chin in her hand. “But like I’d ever say spots on—” she scoffs.

Marinette’s eyes become enormous then, her words seeming to have sobered her up as she brings her hands to her face in horror.

“No, no, no! I take it back!”

Her hands fly to her ears, trying to take off her earrings when—     

In the distance, he only slightly hears a little scream before the room is bathed in pink before—

Ladybug stands before him, alert and beautiful and in his room and her face is twisted in terror.  Her costume hugs her womanly curves, her chest and thighs covered in all black in addition to her trademark red and black spots—she looks lethal with sharp blue eyes and her yo-yo modified to look more deadly at her hip.  

“Shit, shit, shit!” she says and he’s not sure if he’s ever heard his lady actually swear before, but—

“Ladybug?” he stupidly asks.

She winces, nervously chewing her lip. “You’re dreaming!” she blurts.

Adrien tries to sit up on the bed, shaking his head. “I, uh, I’m pretty sure I’m not dreaming.”

His brain is really foggy right now, the light the superhero look fuzzy. He wonders where Marinette is though he wants to ask if, well, if Ladybug is—

“...Marinette?”

Ladybug inhales a deep breath before steeling herself with a grim expression. She swallows hard, her fingers trembling at her sides for a moment, before she tightens her hands into fists.  

“I’m sorry, Adrien,” she whispers.

He doesn’t get to ask her why she’s sorry or why Marinette isn't here or why Marinette doesn’t just say that she's Ladybug. Can’t  when her right hand swinging towards the side of his head and—

(Nothing, you see, because it’s just as Ladybug said. He’s dreaming.)

(He has to be.)

NEXT

[anavoliselenu]

Aced chapter 4

“What?” Zander asks, eyebrows raised, voice innocent.

And shit. Innocent is the keyword here. Did I know what sex was at age thirteen? Hell yes, I did. Thought I did, anyway. A messy French kiss with Laura Parker was the extent of it. The sheets I’d balled up in the morning, mortified for my mom to find, had been my reality.

“So . . . you guys might start hearing some stuff at school or see stuff on TV or the Internet about Selena and me.” Brows furrow. Lips quirk. And my palms sweat. I clear my throat. “Sometimes adults do things in the heat of the moment that leads to . . . er . . . uh . . . consequences.”

“Heat of the moment?” Aiden says with a snicker. I swear to God I blush for the first time in what feels like forever.

“You know sometimes you do something without thinking—”

“Like that time you climbed on the counter to get the cookies on top of the refrigerator and—”

“No. Not like that,” I cut Kyle off. Sweet Jesus this is going to be difficult. “More like when two married people love each other they—”

“Do they have to be married?” Scooter asks.

Seriously? Do I have to go here? I feel like I’m sitting on hot coals. My balls are burning and I can’t sit still.

“For the most part, yes.” I’m going to be struck by lightning for saying that. For lying through my teeth.

Aiden snickers again. I guess at age fourteen he knows where I’m going with this. And is enjoying watching me struggle.

“Anyway, there is going to be some talk about us and I wanted to say that you know Selena. You know the person she is. So please don’t believe any of the crap you hear being said.”

There. Maybe that will be enough.

“But why? What’s on the Internet?”

I just fucked this up. If I were their age and someone said this to me, I’d immediately go and online and search for it. Curiosity and all that.

The snicker again from Aiden. The one that says he either already knows because someone said something at school today or is assuming.

Don’t lose your cool, Donavan.

“Five Three X,” he murmurs under his breath, confusing the fuck out of me but making perfect sense to the four of them by the way they whip their heads his way and their mouths fall open like they know perfectly well what he’s saying.

“What?” I ask.

Five pairs of eyes look down at hands on soda cans and leave me lost in the goddamn dark.

“Someone going to explain what the hell five three X means?”

Snickers times five now.

“Aiden?”

He looks up, meets my eyes, and the look he gives me tells me he knows exactly what I’m here to tell them about. A single scathing look that tells me he’s pissed at me for whatever it is he’s read about Selena—like it’s all my fault—and all I can do is sigh and run a hand through my hair. And try to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about.

A part of me loves this glare he’s giving me. He’s pissed with me because he’s protective of Selena, but at the same time . . . really? I’m being eye-scolded by a fourteen-year-old?

And then it hits me. The visual of what Five Three X looks like. 53X

SEX.

Jesus fucking Christ. When did I get so old I don’t know that lingo and when did these kids get so old when they’re not?

I jog my knee. Take a breath. What the hell am I supposed to say now? I wasn’t really going to go into the sex part of it. Was I? I don’t even know. I thought this was going to be a cinch. A little chat. Don’t believe everything you see or hear on the Internet type of thing.

And now I’m stuck with birds and bees and son-of-a-bitch Aiden just threw a whole goddamn hornet’s nest on me when I wasn’t looking.

Can anyone say fish out of water?

“Dude. It’s totally cool,” Aiden says, taking point for the brood despite the two youngest, Zander and Scooter, blushing.

“No, it’s not cool,” I say, finding my footing. “Selena’s super concerned that you will be affected by this and she doesn’t want you to—”

“Look, we’re not going to click on anything, okay?” My eyes bug out of my head. “No one wants to see you bumping uglies . . . especially us.”

That’s one way to put it. My mouth goes dry as snickers fall, red creeps into cheeks, and eyes are averted from mine.

“Well . . . then . . .” Shit. Great job, Donavan. You’ve got Aiden pissed at you but you still haven’t made them understand that this is about more than just sex. I scrub a hand over my face and try to figure out what the fuck I need to say to get the point across. “Listen, guys, you love Selena like I do, right?” All heads nod and each pair of eyes narrow as they wait to see what else I’m going to say. “That’s what I thought. So I need you to understand that there have been some mean, ugly things said about her because of the images out there of us. She’s upset and really hurt by them. But more than anything, she’s worried it’s going to affect all of you. So when I ask you not to click on anything online, don’t click on anything. When I ask you not to believe anything crappy said about her or her reasons for supporting The House, don’t believe them. You guys are her world, and she’d hate herself if you were hurt in any way from this. So can you do that for me? Can you ignore all of this and pretend like it didn’t happen so Selena doesn’t have to worry about you guys?”

For fuck’s sake, please understand what I’m asking here.

Aiden’s gaze meets mine. Gone is the immature smugness from moments before. It’s been replaced with an understanding that seems to go well beyond his years. He nods his head once to me, eyes relaying his unspoken words: we promise.

I shift in my seat when all I really want to do is sag in relief. Thank Christ. I start to talk and then stop, unsure what to say next.

“Dodgers,” Aiden says, recognizing my uncertainty and owning this conversation like nobody’s business. “Let’s talk about last night’s Dodgers game.”

All I can do is shake my head.

I’m not ready for this parenting shit.

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU mean early parole?” Justin’s voice ricochets off the stairwell and up into the room, shocking me from the case reports I’m trying to complete on my laptop and indicating he is home. Within an instant, I set my computer aside and move downstairs to find out what’s going on.

“I know, CJ. I know,” Justin says, one hand fisted at his side, posture tense, as I walk into the great room, his back to me framed against the open doors to the patio. “But it’s too much of a goddamn coincidence, don’t you think? The timing, his vindication . . . all of it adds up.”

Justin must sense me and turns to meet my eyes, holding one finger up requesting I wait while he finishes the conversation. I watch the emotions play over his face as he listens to our lawyer. He moves to abate the restlessness of whatever CJ is telling him, my eyes following him pace, my mind trying to figure out what’s going on. They say their goodbyes, and he turns again to face me.

“Eddie.”

It’s all he says as he smacks his hands together. That simple name—a blast from our past—and Justin’s reflex reaction cause details from three years ago to flood back to me. The CD Enterprises patent for an innovative neck protection device being denied because someone else was already in the process of getting a very similar one approved. Almost identical in fact. Investigations to find out that the other patent applicant had CDE’s same exact blueprints for the device, followed by digging into the layering of the corporation applying to find Eddie Kimball on the board of directors.

The same Eddie Kimball who Justin had fired for stealing said blueprints.

As I look at the fire lighting up Justin’s eyes, I think of the two-year legal battle that ensued over the right of ownership and future revenues from the device the blueprints made. I’m reminded of the stress, the lies, the accusations, the mediation meetings, and offers of settlement to buy time on Eddie’s part. After spending a fortune in legal counsel, the judge eventually ruled in our favor and convicted Eddie of numerous charges—fraud, perjury, false witness—and sentenced him to a four-year jail sentence.

“How?” I ask, making calculations about someone I mentally told myself was out of our lives. The trial ended three years ago. He had a four-year sentence.

“Early release. Good Behavior. Jails too crowded from the three-strikes statute.” He answers my unspoken questions as he runs a hand through his hair, his head nodding, and I can see him trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together in his mind.

“Tawny knew where we were.” It’s all I say, voice quiet, gaze fixed on him. He looks up, narrows his eyes, and grits his teeth, not wanting to hear me say it again.

“I know,” he says with a sigh, “but I’m trying to figure out how it all fits together. What? Did Tawny go up and get the video of us that night? If she had it way back when, then why keep it and release it all this time later?” He slumps down on the couch and puts his head in his hand while he tries to make sense of it.

I move and sit down next to him and rest my head on his shoulder.

“I can’t give you the answers but it all seems too convenient for her not to have had a hand in this.” My voice is calm but anger fires in my veins at the thought that either of them have had a hand in this. And yet I shouldn’t expect any less from them.

Bitches can’t change their stripes. Oh wait, that’s tigers. Hmpf. Doesn’t matter because I refuse to give her a second thought. If she did do this, then Lord have mercy on her when Justin gets done with her.

The idea doesn’t take the sting out of our public humiliation any less, but at least with this newfound information about Eddie’s release, we might have some place to start looking.

“Kelly is trying to track him down through his parole officer,” Justin says, pulling me from my thoughts. He reaches out and squeezes my knee to show me he’s present although I know mentally he’s a million miles away.

“This is all just so fucked up,” I murmur, speaking my thoughts aloud and garnering a sound of agreement from him. We sit like this for a few moments. The silence is comforting because we know outside this bubble we’ve surrounded ourselves with, there are people waiting to tear us apart.

My cell phone rings from the kitchen counter causing me to sigh because I’m sure it’s some intrusive person from a tabloid. “I need to change my number,” I groan.

“I’ll handle this,” he says, beating me to the punch and getting up from the couch. Besides, with the time it would take to get my pregnant self up, the call would probably go to voicemail.

I sink back into the couch and wait for Justin to answer and unleash his temper on whatever poor soul thinks they are calling me, so I’m surprised when I hear him greet the person warmly.

“Hey, good afternoon,” Justin says. “She’s right here, Teddy. Hold on.”

And there is something in that split second of time that causes my brain—that has been so overwhelmed by everything today—to fire on all cylinders. I thought of my parents and the boys. I’ve read articles denouncing my motives and implying I released the tape for my own benefit. I called Jax and had him cover my shift at The House. And yet not once did I pick up the phone and call my boss. Not once did I think of damage control or how this man I greatly admire is going to look at me now.

Pregnancy brain.

Oh shit.

Scenarios flicker through my mind as I take the phone from Justin. Our eyes meet momentarily, and I can already see he’s thinking the same thing I am.

“Hey Teddy,” I say, my voice ten times more enthusiastic than I feel.

“How you doing, kiddo?” he asks cautiously.

“I’m sorry I haven’t called you,” I say, immediately using those two words again even though I technically haven’t done anything wrong.

“No need to.” It’s all he says and the awkward silence hangs through the connection. I can sense he’s trying to figure out how to approach this conversation, an awkward dance of unspoken words. “But we do need to talk.”

And the angst I had shelved momentarily returns in a blaze of glory.

“What do you need from me, Teddy?” I feel the need to rise and walk, subdue the discord I already feel, but don’t have the energy. Justin steps behind the couch and places his hands on my shoulders and begins to knead away the tension there.

My boss sighs into the line and it’s the only sound I need to hear to know my fears about why he’s calling are warranted. “Some benefactors are raising their hypocritical highbrow hands and protesting your lead on the project.”

I take a deep breath, biting back the comments on my tongue. “I see. Well, take me off as the lead then. Let me have my shifts at The House, and I’ll work behind the scenes on the upcoming project.”

When he doesn’t respond immediately, I bite my bottom lip. “I wish I could.” And then silence. We sigh simultaneously, the singular sound a symphony of disquiet.

“What do you mean you wish you could?”

“Selena . . .”

And it hits me. It’s not that he wants me to take a back seat on the project. He wants me off the project entirely. And out of The House.

“Oh,” I say. Justin’s fingers tense as he feeds off my physical reaction. Right now I’m so glad he can’t see my face because he’ll see how devastated I am. He already feels guilty enough for things he can’t control. “I won’t risk the project. The boys, the mission, everything means way too much to me. I’ve put my blood, sweat, tears, and heart into this and I can’t risk it for the many more we are going to be able to help. I know this is hard for you and I won’t make you ask me so I’ll just say it. I’ll take an early maternity leave. I’ll hate it. It’ll kill me to leave Auggie right now just as we’re making progress and a breakthrough is on the horizon . . .” My voice trails off, ending my ramble as I struggle to articulate how hard this is for me. In the same breath, I know it was ten times harder for him to pick up the phone to call me and ask this of me.

“They want more than an early maternity leave, Selena.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Board wants me to place you on an indefinite leave of absence.”

“Indefinite?” I stutter, voice unsteady, disbelief tingeing its edges as I prod him for the answer I want. “As in three-month type of indefinite?”

“You know I respect you. You know I know this project is a continued success because of you and that the boys are contributing members to society because of all the time and hard work you’ve put in.” I hate that all of a sudden Teddy sounds like he’s speaking to a room of stiff suits instead of me, the woman who has worked for him for over twelve years. However, I understand his protective wall of detachment more than he knows because I’m fortifying mine too right now. I have to. It’s the only way I’ll be able to get through this conversation when he tells me I am no longer mother to my boys. To my family. When I don’t respond, he continues, trying to find his footing in a world where he is boss, mentor, and friend. “I swear to God I went to bat for you, kid . . . but with the board vote coming up,” he says, shame in his voice but I get where he’s coming from. The annual vote to approve his position is next month and if he fights too hard, he might not get renewed.

Teddy losing his position would be a colossal mistake; the boys would lose both of us—their biggest advocates. I bite back the bitterness, the want to argue, because with him still in the mix, I know there will at least be one of us working with them.

“It’s temporary. I promise you that. Just until the attention dies down.”

Yeah. Temporary. The bitterness returns. Disbelief overwhelms me and shakes loose a new thought: what if his contract isn’t renewed? Would I still have a place at Corporate Cares?

The fear replaces my rage, allows me to calm down and realize fighting him is like preaching to the choir. I just need to fade into the background regardless of the fact I feel like I’m bathed in a neon light. It will be hard as hell but I don’t want to rock the boat for him any more than I already have.

“Okay,” I respond softly, my voice anything but certain. And I want to ask him how he knows it’s temporary—need some kind of concrete here—but know it’s useless to ask. This is hard enough for both of us as it is, so why throw false promises in there too?

“I feel like I’m selling you out for the donations—”

“No—”

“But we need these funds,” he murmurs.

Desperately. Non-profits always need funds. I’ve been doing this way too long to know there’s never enough and always so many we can’t help.

“I won’t risk the project, Teddy.” And I know he’s having a hard time finding the right words to ask me to step down. And the fact it’s hard for him shows just how much he believes in me, and that means the world to me. “I’ll step down effective immediately.” I choke on the words as tears clog in my throat and drown out all sound momentarily, my mind trying to wrap itself around what I just said. Justin’s reaction is reflected in the tightening of his fingers on my shoulders, and I immediately shrug out of his grip, push myself up off the couch, and walk to the far side of the room. It is almost a reflex reaction to feel the need to come to terms with this on my own. Yet when I turn to look at Justin and the unwavering love in his eyes, I know I’m not alone. Know together we are a unified front.

“Selena . . .” The resigned sadness in Teddy’s voice is like pinpricks in an already gaping wound.

“No. It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m just . . . it’s okay,” I reiterate, unsure whether I’m trying to assure him or myself. I know neither of us believes it.

“Quit telling me it’s okay, Selena, because it’s not. This is bullshit,” he swears into the phone, and I can hear how he feels in the single word that keeps coming up over and over.

“But you’re handcuffed. The boys come first,” I say, immediately hearing Justin’s earlier words said in such a different way. “They always come first, Teddy.”

“Thank you for understanding the situation I’m in.”

I nod my head, unable to speak, and then I realize he can’t see me. The problem is that I don’t understand. I want to rage and scream, tell him this is a railroad because the video does not prevent me from doing my job whatsoever and yet, the die is cast. The video is viral. My job is not mine anymore.

Holy shit. The one constant in my life for as long as I can remember is gone. Talk about going from having a sense of purpose to feeling completely lost in a matter of moments.

How can one video—a single moment in our lives—cause this gigantic ripple effect?

“I need to see the boys one last time.” It’s the only thought I can process.

“I’m sorry, Selena, but that’s probably not a good idea right now with . . . with everything.”

“Oh.” My plans for them before I took maternity leave are now obsolete; the bond I was building with Auggie will be non-existent when I return.

If I get to return.

The thought hits me harder than anything else. With Teddy still on the line, I drop the phone and run to the bathroom where I empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet.

Within moments I feel Justin’s hands on me: one holding my hair back and the other rubbing up and down the length of my spine in silent reassurance as dry heaves hit me with violent shudders.

“I’m so sorry, Selena. I know your job and the boys mean the world to you,” he murmurs, as I sit there with my forehead resting on the back of my hand atop the toilet seat.

The first tear slips out; the only show of emotion I allow. I can feel it slide ever so slowly down my cheek. With my eyes closed and the man I love behind me, I allow myself to consider the endless uncertainty.

Is this all about me? And if so, whoever did this just got exactly what they wanted. To devastate me. To take my heart and soul—my boys—away from me. To hand me a punishment capable of breaking me.

Taking Justin or the baby away from me would be the only thing worse they could do. And that sure as hell isn’t going to happen.

I may be down, but I’m not out.

“LET’S HOPE WE NEVER NEED it.”

“It’s strictly a precaution,” I say about the restraining order Selena just signed at the police station against Eddie Kimball. I flip on my blinker, eyes scanning the rearview mirror to make sure we are still paparazzi-free, as I turn onto the unfamiliar street.

“I still disagree though. You should have one too.”

Nope. Not me. I hope the fucker comes face-to-face with me. Welcome the thought, actually. I’m jonesing for a chance to beat the truth out of him.

“I can more than handle myself,” I state calmly.

Her huff of disapproval is noted and ignored. I drive slowly through the tree-lined streets occasionally leaning over the console toward the passenger seat so I can read the house numbers on her side of the car. And in doing so, I’ve drawn her attention to figure out where we’re going and provided the perfect distraction to get her to drop the topic. For now, at least. I’m sure she’ll bring it up again but for now she’s diverted.

“Last stop,” I say as I pull up when I’ve found the correct house.

“Where are we?” she asks, curiosity in her tone as she cranes her neck to look around us.

“Proving one of us right,” I tell her. “Sit tight.”

I open the door and get out, shutting it on her questions, and walk around the car to the sidewalk. She opens her door and I glance over to her before she can get out. “Don’t.” A single word warning her to stay in the car. Our eyes lock, her temper flashing in hers, but my bite’s bigger and she knows it. So after a moment she mutters something under her breath but shuts the door without getting out.

Fuck if I’m not being an asshole. Like that’s something new. But at the same time, if I’m laying all my cards on the table, it has to be face-to-face. I can’t have the catfight bullshit I’m sure Selena would initiate if she were at my side: a distraction when I’m trying to call Tawny’s bluff.

I check the address once more as I walk up the concrete path, the daggers from Selena’s glare burning holes into the back of my shoulders. The house is nothing special—a little run-down, flowers in the planters, a red wagon on the porch—and I can’t help but think it’s a long-ass way from the high-rise condo she had the last time I visited her.

I knock on the door. A dog barks nearby. I shift my feet. Take my sunglasses off because I want there to be no mistaking what I’m saying and how I mean it. Let’s get this done and fucking over with. Problem is when all’s said and done, I have a feeling I might be eating a little crow for Selena, and I’ve heard it tastes like shit.

I should know better by now. Selena’s usually right when it comes to this kind of thing. Only one way to find out.

I knock again. Look over my shoulder to where Selena sits in the car, window down, head tilted to the side as she tries to figure out what in the fuck I’m doing.

C’mon. Answer the damn door. I don’t have time for this shit. Wasted minutes.

Did she or didn’t she? That’s the big fucking question of the hour.

Tawny.

I grit my teeth at the name. At the person who has been dead to me. She may have been one of my oldest friends, but she tried to play me for a fool, tie me to her with her bullshit lies, and more than anything, fucked with Selena. End. Of. Story.

My hands fist. Memories return. Temper flares.

The door swings open. I jolt seeing someone I don’t know at all anymore.

“Justin!” Her blue eyes widen in shock. The lines etched around them tell me life’s been tough. Too bad, so fucking sad. The beauty queen’s lost her crown. You fuck with people, you reap what you sow. Her hand immediately flies up to pat her hair and smooth down her shirt.

Don’t worry sweetheart, I wouldn’t even touch you with a ten-foot pole.

“What the fuck are you and Eddie trying to pull, Tawny?” I want to catch her off guard, see if I can glimpse a flicker in her eyes. Something. Anything. A goddamn clue whether she had a hand in this whole situation.

“What are you . . .?” Her voice fades as she shakes her head, eyes blinking as if she can’t believe I’m standing here. The feeling is mutual.

Cat got your tongue, T?

“Justin . . . please, come in.” She reaches out, puts her hand on my arm, and I yank it back in automatic reflex. Does she think I’m here for her? That maybe . . . fuck, I don’t know what she could be thinking, but obviously from the hurt that flashed in her eyes she sure as shit didn’t expect my rejection.

Good. At least the stage is set for this conversation. Her hopes dashed. All expectation out the damn door.

“No thanks. I’ve got better things waiting for me in the car,” I say with a lift of my chin. I then step to the side so she can see Selena.

And so Selena can see her. Understand why we’re here. That I listened to her, heard her, and am trying to get some answers. I just hope like hell Selena stays put so I can up the ante. Take the pot and finish this on my terms. Because I need to do that.

“Oh.”

Yeah. Oh. Glad we got the fact I’m still married out of the way. Happily. Now, back to business.

“Tell me about the tape.” Images flash in my head: Selena crying on the phone with Teddy, Selena on the patio all by herself, the vulgar comments made beneath the video on YouTube about what other sick fucks want to do to her.

“What tape?” She shakes her head back and forth, eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Cut the crap, T. I fell for your lies once upon a fucking time, and I’m a little short of change to buy them now.” I cross my arms over my chest and raise my eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, Justin, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I’m not buying the innocent routine. “Did you watch TV at all this week? Go to the store? Read People magazine? Anything?”

“My son’s been sick for the past few days so unless you mean Scooby Doo on TV, no. Why? What’s going on?” she asks, tone defensive, and I purposely don’t answer. I want to use the silence as a way to make her nervous. She fidgets, shifts her feet, works her tongue in her cheek.

Goddamn it. Selena was right. She knows something. Fuckin’ A.

“Shit, I haven’t seen Eddie in over four years,” she finally says.

I stare at her, eyes determined to find some kind of deception in her words but all I see is the woman I used to know, curves a little fuller, clothes messy, and eyes tired.

And I don’t care how rough it seems life has been for her. Looks can be deceiving. I still don’t trust her. Not one bit. Not after what she did to us way the fuck back when and what I’m pretty sure she had a hand in now.

“Video footage has surfaced of Selena and me from six years ago. You’re the only one who knew where we were and what we did that night.” I let the comment hang in the space between us. She tries to hide her reaction—a lick of her lips, a quick look to the car driving down the street—but once you’ve had a relationship with someone, you can read them like a clock. Tick fucking tock. And I know she has more to say. “The Kids Now event. When Selena and I had sex in the parking garage. Footage of us is plastered all over the media, Tawny. You’re the only one who knew.”

She forces a swallow down her throat. A glance behind her where there are Hot Wheels all over the floor. A shift of her feet. A bite into her bottom lip. All done before she finally has the courage to meet my eyes again.

“Care to change your answer, now?”

“Oh my God,” she murmurs more to herself than to me. And something about the way she says it bugs me. It seems genuine, full of surprise, real. I call bullshit. She’s just playing the part without dressing up for the cameras. “I completely forgot about that video.”

“You forgot?” I sneer, sarcasm rich in my voice. “That’s awfully convenient.”

“No, really,” she says, reaching out to touch me, and then stopping presumably when she remembers my reaction the last time she tried. Smart woman.

“I’m losing my patience,” I say between gritted teeth.

“That night after I left the party, I met up with Eddie. We had some drinks. Too many. I told him about the charity event, seeing you and Selena there, and what she had said about you guys on the hood of Sex. I was feeling angry, rejected, and didn’t think twice about it until after he was fired. That’s when he called me, livid and unhinged. Said he knew the perfect way to get back at you and that he had gotten hold of a video from that night. Had it in a safe place.”

Bingo. Dots connected. A confirmation. Now let’s try to complete the picture.

“And you never thought to tell me?” I shout. My hands flex as I resist the urge to grab her shoulders and shake her in frustration.

“It was a different time. You fired me shortly thereafter and I was furious, ashamed, disowned by my mother . . . so no, I’m sorry, Justin, I didn’t. I was so busy worrying about myself, being selfish.” She sighs, clasping and unclasping her hands in front of her. And I fucking hate when she looks up at me with clarity in her eyes I’ve never seen before. I don’t want to see it but I can’t ignore it either. “I was a different person back then. Time . . . things . . . kids, life, it changes you.”

“Kids?” I snort out, holding my anger in front of me like a shield as I remember her shocking blindside all these years later. “You mean like the baby you lied about and tried to tell me was mine? Used as a pawn in your fucked-up games?” I take a step forward, fists clenched, anger owning me.

“Yes, as in that one,” she says her voice barely audible. “I . . . I’m so—”

“Save the apologies, Tawny. Your bullshit lies and accusations almost made me lose the most important person in the world.” The acrid taste of revulsion hits my tongue. “That’s something that doesn’t deserve forgiveness.”

My words hit her like a one-two punch—hard, fast, and bruising. Does she think her quivering bottom lip will win me over? Make me forget the past?

Not hardly.

“I know,” she says giving me whiplash. I expected denial and defiance, attitude and arrogance, and she gives me neither. Our eyes hold for a long moment and fuck, all of a sudden I feel like I’m seeing her for the first time in a different light. Don’t fall for her act, Donavan. People like her don’t change. Can’t. It’s not possible.

But you changed.

The voice in the back of my head so very quiet, barely audible, sounds like a scream, causing me to bite back the snide comments as the unwelcome tang of doubt replaces them.

The look on Selena’s face flashes in my mind from the day Tawny came waltzing in the house to tell me she was pregnant with my baby. A manipulative game by one of the masters. Too bad for her I was a master at it myself. Had no problem going up to the plate against her curveballs. But Selena . . . she didn’t even have a bat in her hand.

I hold onto that thought—Selena’s tears, the nasty fight, the break we took—all of it, and tell the tiny ounce of pity I feel for Tawny to take a fucking hike. She brought this upon herself. Not me. Not Selena. Just her.

Tawny starts to speak and then stops. “If I had known that Eddie really had a tape . . . or what he was going to do, I would have told you.”

I stare at her, leery of the sudden decency that doesn’t fit with the memory of the woman I used to know, and deliver a visual warning: You better not be fucking with me.

“Tell me what you know.” My voice is gruff, incapable of believing her or that the years have changed her enough she’d actually look out for me. She’d have told me, my ass.

Would she have?

Does it really fucking matter, Donavan? Get as much info as you can, turn your back, and walk away. You don’t need to know if she’s changed, wonder if life has been rough for her, because the only thing that matters is the woman sitting in the car behind you.

“Honestly—”

“I’d like to believe that honesty is something you’re capable of but you’re not the one dealing with . . .” I let my words fall off, catch myself from letting her have a glimpse into my private life. Don’t want her to know about the butterfly effect this video she knew about is having on everything in Selena’s life. Because if she’s playing me and is behind this—somehow, someway—then she’ll have gotten exactly what she was looking for: hurting Selena, which hurts me. And while I may be sympathetic at times, it’s only toward my wife, only with the boys, and only with those I care about. Tawny and I may have a past together, but she is most definitely not any of those people.

“Look, I know you don’t want to hear it but I fucked up. Was in a bad place with pressures you have no idea about and I won’t use as an excuse . . . but it was a long time ago. Like I said, I’m a different person now, Justin. I don’t expect you to believe me . . . to know I’m sorry for the games I played, but I am.” We hold each other’s gaze, my jaw clenched tight, pulse pounding.

I expected to come here, fight with her, and threaten her to get some answers. Not in a million years did I expect her to be like this: apologetic, decent, sincere. And so the fuck what if she is? It changes nothing. Top priority is getting answers so I can try to make my wife whole again.

“At first I thought he was lying about the tape,” she says, breaking through my warring thoughts. “I thought he was trying to get in my pants by feeding my spite over you choosing Selena, because . . . well, because it was Eddie. You know how untrustworthy he was.”

She leans her back against the doorjamb and I shift my feet, wanting to rush this, get the fuck away from here, but I need more. Seeing her causes the memories to resurface. The lies she told. Her manipulative ways. How I thought she’d been in cahoots with Eddie in stealing the blueprints way the fuck back when. Despite investigators and depositions, and every other legal means under the sun CJ couldn’t find shit to prove she was involved. To say I had a hard time believing she was innocent is an understatement. But I did. Had no choice.

The question is, do I believe that now?

“Did you ever watch it?” And it’s a stupid question, but the thought of her of all people watching Selena and me have sex seems ten more times intrusive than the other millions of people who have.

“No. Never,” she says definitively, earning her a rise of my eyebrow in disbelief. “Really. That’s why I never thought twice about it.”

Great. Now I’ve given her the idea to go watch it. Brilliant, Donavan. Fucking brilliant. But then again, I had to ask. Had to know.

I blow out a breath, roll my shoulders, and ask the one question left that makes no fucking sense to me. “If he had the video though, why wait all this time?”

She angles her head as she stares at me, feet shifting, arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t know, Justin. I just don’t know.”

Impatient, uncomfortable, and still a little thrown by this new woman in front of me that looks the same but sounds so very different, I just nod my head, turn my back, and stride down the walk to my car. I don’t know what else to do. There is no good in goodbye here. There’s just the closing of a door on another chapter of my past.

“Justin.”

Every muscle in my body tenses—feet want to keep walking—yet curiosity stops me dead in my tracks. With my back to her, I wait for her to say whatever it is she wants to say.

“It’s good to see you happy. It suits you. I know now that’s because of Selena.”

I lift my eyes to meet Selena’s at the same time Tawny speaks. I hear her statement, take it for what it is, and don’t try to find a hidden meaning or an underlying dig. With eyes locked on Selena’s, I nod my head in acknowledgement and walk toward the car.

Time can change people. The woman with violet eyes staring back at me? She’s my living proof that I’ve done just that, changed.

Tawny might have changed too, yet I don’t have the effort to care right now. I have a wife that is more important than the air I fucking breathe, and being this close to Tawny, I’m starting to suffocate.

I need my air.

“TALK ABOUT BLINDSIDING HER,” BECKS says.

“Which one?” I ask with a laugh followed by a hiss as I throw back the Macallan. The shit’s smooth but burns like a motherfucker.

“I was talking about Tawny but you’ve got a point there,” Becks says with a smirk. “I imagine Selena got whiplash when she saw Tawny open the front door.”

“I’m sure she did, but thank fuck she stayed in the car or who knows what would have happened.”

“You’re a brave fucker taking Selena there after everything she did to the two of you,” he says as he lifts two fingers to our waitress for another round.

“Brave or stupid. But this right here,” I say, holding my left hand in the air and pointing to my wedding ring, “means I didn’t dare visit Tawny without her. That would have been no bueno. Besides, she had a right to know since she called it.”

“Dude, I still can’t get over the fact you saw Tawny after all this time.”

“Yeah . . . well . . .” I shrug, thinking of all of the shit I said way back when about how I’d never step within a hundred yards of her again. “Sometimes the promises you make to yourself are the easiest to break. And shit, we were on the way back from the police station so I figured why not kill two birds with one stone since we’d dodged the vultures?”

“I can’t believe the paps are still all over you. Is Selena okay after yesterday?”

I blow out a breath. Fucking assholes. “A little shaken but she’s scrappy.” I clench my fist on the table as I recall her phone call yesterday. How she tried to take a walk on the beach to get some fresh air but paparazzi shifted from the gate to the sand and swarmed her before she could even reach the waterline.

And I know how she felt—needing the fresh air—because I feel the same way. Isn’t that why I’m here right now? Decompressing. Grabbing a few minutes while she’s taking a nap after the excitement of my visit to Tawny today, to hang with Becks, shoot the shit, and get a change of scenery to make me a better man. Sitting in your own house day after day can wear on any man. Make you feel like an animal in the zoo: caged, pacing, and constantly toyed with by those on the outside looking in.

I grit my teeth and thank fuck the back entrance of Sully’s pub was paparazzi-free so Sammy could drop me off and I could slide in and meet Becks without being mobbed. After yesterday and how they treated Selena, my fuse is short and ready to ignite at the slightest misstep.

“Was it strange seeing her again after all this time?” Becks asks as he lifts his beer to his lips.

“Is the sky blue? Fuck, man . . . it was weird. But she gave me what I needed to know so maybe she’s changed some.”

“Don’t give her that much credit,” he murmurs.

“I don’t give her any.”

“Smart,” he says and slides the cardboard coaster around on the table. “Should have known Eddie would be the one to pull shit like this. Fucker.”

“Fucker,” I repeat because anything else would be a waste of breath. I glance at my phone to make sure Selena or Kelly hasn’t texted since the noise in the bar is getting louder the longer we sit here.

“Everything okay?”

“After ten more of these it will be. Need to drink to forget,” I say, rolling my shoulders and letting out a frustrated sigh. Too much shit, too damn fast. I want my happy, baby-crazed wife back. Her job back. Our life back. “It’s not gonna help shit and I’ll be sicker than a dog in the morning, but sometimes, it’s just what the doctor ordered.”

“Truth. And I’ve got just the prescription for us,” Becks says as he motions to the waitress again to head over to our regular table tucked in the back.

“What can I get you boys?” she asks, smile wide and cleavage jiggling.

“Bottle of Patron Gold. Two shot glasses, please. We need to forget,” Becks says.

“That’ll sure do the job,” she says with a lift of her eyebrows. “Looks like you’re going to be stuck here for a while anyway with the way paparazzi are stacking up outside.”

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath.

“Sorry, hon. We find out who in here called, we’re kicking their sorry asses to the curb,” she says louder than normal so those around us can hear her. She starts to walk away and then stops and turns around. “And we’ll stick ’em with your tab.”

I throw my head back with a laugh. “I like the way you think.”

She returns within minutes, our ongoing tab and prior large tips always earning us the best service. “Here you go, boys,” she says, as she sets two full shot glasses in front of us, and the bottle in between us. “May God rest your souls.”

“Amen to that,” Becks says as he lifts his glass. “What’s the first thing we need to forget?”

“Paparazzi.”

“Cheers,” he says as we tap our glasses against each other’s. “Fuck you, paparazzi.”

We toss the shots back. My throat burns as the warmth starts to flood through me. Becks lifts a lime from the bowl on the table and I mutter, “Pussy,” under my breath, earning me a flip of his finger. “Umm.” I think of what I want to forget next. “Fucking CJ.”

“Okay,” he draws the word out as he pours us another shot, “but if I’m drinking to forget something, I need to know what I’m supposed to forget since I sure as hell hope you’re not fucking CJ.”

“No. I’m not fucking CJ.” I belt out a laugh. My mind is starting to spin as I glance around the bar. “Because my goddamn hands are cuffed and not in a good way. He called earlier, said that in the eyes of the law, the tape was public. Eddie didn’t steal it from us per se. He uploaded it for free . . . isn’t making any money off it and so we can’t do shit about it. He gets his kicks fucking with us and we have no legal means to get back at him.”

“Sure as shit there are other means though,” he says with a smirk and a raise of his fist.

“Now that,” I say as I hold up my shot, “I’ll drink to. Cheers, brother.”

“Cheers.”

Our glasses clink. The tequila burns until it warms. Our laughter gets louder and our cheers get sloppier and take longer to come up with.

But I begin to forget.

About Eddie. The pressure to fix it all. And the thousands of men jacking off to the image of my wife holding her tits as she comes. And the rage over how she lost her job. And becoming a father. The need to win the next race. Being told to bite my tongue with the press.

And God does it feels good to forget.

I’m lost in thought, trying to figure out how many shots we’ve downed, when my phone rings. I fumble with my cell before answering.

“If it’s good enough to make me sober, Kelly, I just might forgive you for ruining my buzz,” I say into the phone with a laugh.

“You drunk?”

“Well on my way.”

“Understandably,” he says in his no nonsense tone. “Eddie checks in with his parole officer once a month.”

“Mm,” I say as visions fill my head of waiting for him outside the social services office and greeting him with a fist to the face.

“Don’t even think about it, Donavan. You got the restraining order for Selena. Leave it at that. Just like I’ve told you all week long, you touch him, he’s going to sue you like he owns the Fluff and Fold and take you to the cleaners. It’s not worth it.”

Quit fucking telling me what to do.

“Let him try,” I sneer, admitting to myself he’s right but also knowing revenge gives its own special satisfaction. I begin to say something else when the thought hits me that I might be able to get him back and not lift a fucking finger. The problem is I want to lift more than a finger at him. I want a whole knockout fist.

“Thanks, Kelly. Keep me up to speed.” Thoughts try to connect through my fuzzy mind on how I can make this all work to my advantage. Fuck Eddie over. Redeem Selena. Get back the happily ever after.

My plan could work.

“Everything okay?” Becks asks, as he looks up from his own phone.

Later, Donavan. Figure it out later. Right now? Drink.

“Fucking peachy,” I say, copying one of his go-to sayings. “Kelly’s got a line on Eddie.”

“And that pisses you off, why?”

“Just thinking.”

“That’s scary,” he teases and I slide my glass across the table so it clinks against his in response. “What is it?”

“Bad juju, man,” I finally say, trying to put into words what I think’s been bugging me the past few days. The drinking to forget didn’t numb this. “I’ve got this feeling that won’t go away.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Things have been too goddamn perfect for us. I have the fucking fairy tale, Becks. The princess, the castle, the—”

“Jackass,” Becks snorts as he points my way, causing me to laugh. Asshole. “Sorry. I couldn’t resist,” he says, putting his hands up in a mock surrender. “Please, continue.”

“Nah. Never mind.” Shut it down, Donavan. You sound like an idiot. A drunk one at that.

“No. Seriously. Go on.”

I concentrate on drawing lines in the ridges of the worn tabletop. “Shit in our life was just too good. Too perfect. And now with the tape and Selena’s job and . . .” My voice fades as I try to explain the feeling I don’t understand, but that all of a sudden feels like it’s clinging to me like a second skin. “I just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop to make this fairy-tale life of ours come crashing down. It’s a shitty feeling.”

“Feelings are like waves, brother. You can’t stop them from coming but you sure as fuck can decide which ones to let pass you by and which ones to surf.”

“Yeah, well, let’s just hope I don’t wipe the fuck out by picking the wrong one.”

Becks and I decide we’re looped enough to brave the chaos.

We push open the back door of Sully’s and are met with blinding flashes of light and a roar of sound. I wince. The alcohol makes the clicking shutters and shouts of my name sound like they’re coming through a megaphone. They stagger me. Blind me.

Anger the fuck out of me.

Sammy’s here. Pushing people back to let Becks and I inch toward the Rover. But each step, each push of the mob against me fuels my fire.

Take a step. A camera hits my shoulders. My fists clench.

“Justin, how does it feel to be the most downloaded video on YouTube in over five years?”

Another step. Questions shout. Sammy’s hands moving people back.

“Justin, are you and Selena thinking of making a porn soon?”

One more step. A single thought: Selena dealt with this on her own yesterday on the beach. Motherfucker.

“Justin, how is Selena handling all of this?”

Another step. The car within reach. Flash in my eyes. Fury in my veins.

Fuck Chase’s no comment advice. Fuck everyone. I’m done. Shoved way too far one way, and now I’m coming back swinging.

“You want a comment?” I shout. Silence is almost automatic. “Well, I’ll give you one.” I glance over to where Becks is standing in the open car door, eyes full of pride, telling me I’m doing the right thing.

“The question is, do you really want to know how we feel or are you just interested in twisting your story because sex sells so much better than the truth? I get it. I do. And if you take the selfless do-gooder who’s spent her life helping others and turn her into a whore who makes sex tapes in exchange for funding . . . well shit, that sells ten times more. But that’s not who Selena Donavan is.” I take a breath. My body vibrates with anger. My thoughts slowly click together.

That revenge I was looking for just found the most perfect stage of all.

“How about I give you a better story? How about you focus on the sick bastard who released this video of a private moment between my wife and me? How about you go harass the bastard who did this rather than harass my wife? I’ll even give you a head start. Eddie Kimball,” I say, putting my plan in motion. “Focus on why he tried to blackmail us, because I assure you, he definitely had an agenda releasing this video. Sex sells. I get it . . . but uncovering the story behind his bullshit attack on my wife’s reputation would make much better copy.”

Good luck hiding now, you fucking weasel.

The night erupts in sound. But they give me a wide berth because I gave them something. I nod my head in goodbye.

The cameras flash. Each one causes me to feel more and more sober. Makes me to realize what I just did. Slide into the car beside Becks and catch his nod of approval. Rest my head back on the seat with a sigh.

Fuck. You. Eddie.

You want to play hardball? I’ve got your number, you spineless son of a bitch. Right now some little nosey reporter is digging for the story. They’ll connect the dots with your early release from prison. They’ll use your name in the press and it’ll shine like a fucking neon sign, notifying the many you owe a shitload of money to.

Oh, and how they’ll come. I have no doubt about that with the amount of money you owe people. Plus three years worth of interest. They’ll flush you out of hiding and right into karma’s long reaching arms.

The best part is if I don’t want to, I won’t have to lift a single finger to give you what you deserve, because I just did.

Social media can be a bitch when you have shit to hide. Good thing I don’t. Good thing you do.

Revenge can be a mean, nasty fucker sometimes.

“You good?” Sammy asks as he pulls out of the alleyway, leaving the flashing cameras behind.

“Yup.” I sigh, long and loud as I meet his eyes in the rearview mirror. It’s crazy how much I need Selena, right now. “Home please. I miss my wife.”

“DAMN IT,” I SHOUT IN frustration as the flour flies all over the kitchen because I forgot to put the guard around the mixer’s blade. Tears sting the backs of my eyes as I look around at the mess. Normally I’d find this amusing, laugh it off, but not right now. Not with how this week has gone. Nothing can seem to pull me from this funk I’m in.

I squeeze my eyes shut and ignore the voices in my head telling me I’m going crazy because I fear that I am. The video’s ripple effect just continues to knock me on my ass. Gone are the things I normally use to center myself: my boys, my freedom outside this house, my work. Even Justin’s visit to Tawny derailed me momentarily. Yes, I felt validated Justin believed enough in my assumption that he went and talked to her, but at the same time, it still knocked me back a step seeing her again.

Shake it off, Selena. It’s temporary. Enjoy playing the domesticated role, take advantage of the quiet time now before the baby comes, and life is turned around with lack of sleep and two a.m. feedings.

I pick up the carton of eggs on the counter and blow the flour off them so I can put them away and start to clean up this disaster. Mind focused on the mess at hand, I don’t notice Baxter on the floor behind me. When I step on his paw, he skitters up and away from me with a yip causing me to lose my balance. I catch myself from falling by grabbing the edge of the counter, but all nine eggs in the carton fly across the kitchen making a distinct symphony of splats as they land on the tile floor, counter, and against the refrigerator door.

“Fuck!” Adrenaline begins to rush through my body, and just as quickly as it hits me, it morphs and changes into a rush of so many emotions that I’m suddenly fighting back huge, gulping sobs. And it’s no use to fight them because they already own my body, so I carefully lower my pregnant body to the flour-ridden floor beneath me. Leaning against the cabinet behind me, I let them come.

Wave after wave. Tear by tear. Sob by sob.

So many feelings—anger, humiliation, despair—come forth before being replaced by the next in line that have been waiting all week to get out. And I just don’t have the wherewithal to fight them anymore.

“Selena?” Justin’s voice calls from the front door, and I just close my eyes and try to wipe the tears away but there’s no way I’ll be able to hide them from him. “What the . . .? Selena, are you okay?” he asks as he rushes to my side where I just shake my head, tears still falling, the agony all-consuming.

He drops to his knees beside me, and the concern etched in his face as he looks me over, ignites my irrational temper.

“Leave me alone,” I say between sobs.

“What’s wrong?” he pleads, reaching out to wipe flour from my cheek, causing me to cry harder.

“Don’t,” I tell him as I shake my head away from his hands, making him lean back on his haunches. And I can feel his eyes on me, assessing me, trying to figure me out, and for some reason that thought sets me off. I’ve had enough eyes on my body judging me this week—scrutinizing me—and the notion causes the distress to come to a head. “You want to know what’s wrong with me?” I yell unexpectedly, startling him.

“Please,” he says ever so calmly.

“That!” I yell, pointing at him. “You walking around this house like everything is all right when it’s not. You treating me with kid gloves and avoiding me every time I get emotional because you feel guilty about the video when it’s not your fault. I’m sick of trying to pick a fight with you because I’m going stir crazy in this goddamn house and you won’t take the bait. You just nod your head and tell me to calm down and walk away. Fight me, damn it! Yell at me! Tell me to snap the fuck out of it!” My chest is heaving and my body is trembling again. I know I’m being irrational, know I’m letting the hormones within me take charge, but I don’t care because it feels so good to get it all out.

“What do you want to fight about?”

“Anything. Nothing. I don’t know,” I say completely frustrated that now he’s giving me the option to fight with him, I don’t know what to fight about. “I’m mad at you because I’m worried about you racing next week. I’m freaked out that all of this is going to distract you and you’re not going to be careful and . . . and—”

“Calm down, Selena. I’m going to be fine.” He reaches out to take my hand, and I yank it back.

“DON’T tell me to calm down,” I scream when he does exactly what I told him I hated. Visions of the crash in St. Petersburg flash through my mind and cause my breath to hitch. I shove it away, but the hysteria starts to take over. “I miss the boys. I’m worried about Auggie and how he’s doing. I miss my normal. Nothing is normal! Everything is up in the air and I can’t handle up in the air, Justin. You know I can’t.” I ramble, and he no doubt tries to follow my schizophrenic train of thought.

“Let’s make our own normal then. Why don’t we start by getting the baby’s room set up? That’s one thing we can do, right?” he asks, eyes wide, face panicked. But his words cause fear to choke in my throat.

“Look at me,” he says. “Putting BIRT’s room together is not going to make something happen to him, okay? I know that’s why you haven’t done it yet . . . but it’s time. Okay?”

With those words, the fight leaves me. Those body-wracking sobs I had moments ago are now quiet. Tears well in my eyes but I refuse to look up at him and acknowledge what he’s saying is true. The nursery is incomplete because I’m frozen with fear that if I actually finish it, I’m jinxing it. That fate’s cruel hand will tell me I’m taking the baby for granted, and reach out and take him or her away from me again.

When I can finally swallow over the lump in my throat, I look up to meet the crystalline green of his eyes and nod, just as the first silent tear slips over and slides slowly down my cheek.

“It’s all going to be okay, baby,” he says softly. I don’t deserve his tenderness after how I just yelled at him. And then of course that sets me off even further and another tear falls over.

“You’re absolutely beautiful,” he murmurs reaching forward to move hair off of my cheek, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

“No, I’m not.��

“I’m the husband, I make the rules,” he says with a soft laugh.

[caeconut]

Flaytern - First Contact

Flaytern paced down the ramp of the landing pad, his body language clearly uneasy. The dark side is strong here He thought to himself, pulling down the brown hood covering his head. His youthful chestnut hair looking freshly washed as it moved with the breeze, his face and robes quickly becoming showered with black soot carried by the winds. Underneath his stereotypical Jedi robe he wore a set of segmented durasteel alloy armor, which remained metallic silver in its colour, on his waist a utility belt complimented by a water skin, a credit purse and his holocommunicator, which continuously flashed, silent and left ignored as he carried on with his slow, anxious walk down onto the dirt at the bottom of the ramp. He could barely see fifty yards ahead of him, black soot filled the air of the volcanic planet. He used his knowledge of barriers to cover his face and create some breathable air in a sphere around his head before carrying on, the Defender class starfighter he landed on quickly disappearing into the storm behind him.

He pushed on, after many hours sat in his ship contemplating to even take a step outside he decided to brace the weather. The storms on Iperon III only subsiding for a few days per cycle, he hardly saw the point on trying to wait it out. The sun barely pierced the ashen clouds in the sky, the planet wasn’t exactly inhabitable, the cold reminded him of Hoth, not as hypothermia inducing as the ice laden world, though freezing weather coupled with the annoyance of the soot possibly made it even worse.

He walked for what must’ve been about a mile before his holocommunicator began beeping loudly, the flashing faster and brighter than it was when he descended from his ship. He was following a trail, of sorts. He unclipped the communicator before looking at it, turning left and right on the spot for a moment before coming to a complete standstill. The signal points to this location exactly He thought, his face turning to a frown as he takes a few steps backwards to survey what’s in front of him, looking for absolutely anything out of the ordinary.  He pushes a foot forward, sifting through the ash with his boot before it makes contact with something metallic. Kneeling down he swipes a hand across the ash to reveal a tracking device. It still flashed the same faint red it did when he first planted it on his targets ship. He exhaled, standing up and kicking the device away. Worthless. He turned back the way he came and began to walk, his head still encased in the barrier he erected to protect himself from the planet’s ecosystem. His legs carried him about halfway back to his ship before he noticed something strange. A red glow, just a little too far out of his field of view to get a clear picture of it, it moved side to side, further back, but never towards him.

He picked up his speed, beginning a light jog towards its location, though it was gone by the time he’d arrived. Am I going mad? He thought to himself. I can’t be taken off track, I’ll never find my way back to my ship. He shook it off, attempting to instill himself with some sense. He carried on his walk regardless, another few minutes past before he saw the same red glow, faint once again, just far away enough to be indistinguishable. He tried to ignore it this time, shrugging off the taunting vision as delusions caused by his stress. The trek back to his ship seemed more difficult than the one to the tracking beacon, his legs felt heavier as if they were being weighed down by his plating, the storm only increasing in its potency as time passed.

Though still young, Flaytern was by no means weak. The countless hours of lightsaber drills, meditation and training which lead to his knighthood made sure that his walk through this volcanic storm felt as effortless as a stroll around the Nar Shaddaa promenade for the average human. It was the mind games which affected him the most, the constant taunting of the red glow in the corner of his eye, he ignored it as best he could, but one eye always ended up fixed on it. He swore he could hear laughter all around him, stopping every once in a while to compose himself and rid his mind of paranoid thoughts, making the journey back to his ship far longer than the journey to his beacon.

The laughter suddenly grew louder, and now from one direction. He snapped his head back immediately towards the direction of it and saw nothing, exhaling and turning his head back on track he saw the red glow again, closer now, and the colour much more intense. It got closer and closer before it clicked, he couldn’t quite make it out at first but now all was clear. The taunting red glow had been a lightsaber all this time, and now it was hurling itself towards him, he barely had enough time to unclip his own, igniting his adegan blue crystal before knocking the foreign saber off into the distance as if it were a huttball. It went out of view once again, the crimson red becoming fainter until it disappeared completely.  

“I can sense it in you” a voice echoed inside of Flaytern’s head. “Perhaps there is hope for you” it rambled before the young Jedi forced the voice out, pushing it from his mind. Saber still in hand he slowly ascended into his Djem-so stance, circling on one foot, unsure of himself and his opponent. Another flash hurled towards him, this time not a lightsaber, but a bolt of lightning. With a quick sweep of his blade, Flaytern dissipated the shot quickly. Numerous more cheapshots flew his way, all easily handled. He was in the zone now, no longer doubting his own sanity, he’d been correct in his suspicions all along.

He finally got a glimpse of the figure that had been probing his defenses, moving quickly left to right as it approached him at an alarming speed, the face still obscured by the volcanic storm raging around him. His saber raised, he struck down as the figure reached him. His strong-armed Djem-so killed nothing but dust particles as the image moved so quickly past him, like striking out at a ghost.

A burning sensation pierced his mind, an attack which his saber was unable to defend against. He turned, again and again as he fought the pain. The voice simply laughed again, just out of his field of view the figure stood, channeling an incantation which paid no heed to the storm separating the two, the attack was meant for Flaytern, and it was accurate in its casting. An image appeared next to the struggling Jedi, an older, graying man who looked to be in his fifties. His hair almost in the exact same style as Flay’s, the parting simply on the other side on the right rather than the left. It was the image of his father, as best he could remember him anyway. Flaytern was the spitting image of him, minus the beard, corruption and age. Crimson eyes shon, the same which once sat a dull green during their time on Corellia.

Flaytern paused for a second in shock to observe the figure before simply lashing out, swinging his saber with a single hand towards it. Once again, it passed through thin air, the image disappearing completely as the lightsaber cut through it. “Sore spot?” the attacker taunted, the voice that of a woman, purposefully shrill. He kept a firm single handed grip on his saber, not uttering a word, merely hissing as the incantation invaded his mind. Another image appeared, this time behind him and once again he swung, before the saber could even reach the nonexistent image he noticed this time it was a woman. His mother now, he flinched. Her hair still blonde, wrinkles in all the places he remembered them to be. All seemed well until he noticed the glaring hole in her chest, able to peer through it to the other side he finally got a glimpse of the female figure in her entirety. He composed himself after seeing his mother, simply stepping forward, through the apparition which stood before him and it faded to the wind like the last two.

He pointed his saber towards her, his demeanor much calmer than it had been thus far. “Who are you?” He demanded. His voice was stern now, the incantation having less, and less effect on him the closer he got to his target. The woman's face became clear, it was pale, very pale, blue veins running across the her creased forehead, with crimson red eyes in the foreground, burning with a maniacal rage. She hadn’t even tried to hide the dark side corruption, embracing it in its entirety. She began to move, slowly, akin to a snake circling its prey before shooting forward, fangs bared. She closed the distance in the blink of an eye, sending a wild slash upwards from her waist towards Flay’s chest, hoping to cripple the Jedi early on. Though Flaytern, a fully fledged Jedi knight was not to be underestimated. His blade met her own within an instant, pushing it down and locking hers to the ground. He met her malicious gaze with his own confident stare, unmoving. She hissed at him, exposing her animalistic teeth, pointed, as if they’d been sharpened.

She pushed her left hand out, sending Flaytern stumbling backwards before she pounced once again, her Juyo meeting Flayterns Djem-so, his defenses proving to be more of an issue to probe than she had thought. He didn’t radiate a natural affinity for the force like she or many others did, but what he had was well honed, and relentlessly trained. This only angered her, the two clashed for minutes, Flayterns heavy-handed, precise movements versus a ruthless hurricane of dark side energy. The onslaught of lightsaber strikes pressuring even him, a well trained, measured user of Djem-so.

Something came he could not predict, suddenly the woman leapt into the air, an acrobatic style normally associated with Ataru. It caught him off guard completely, he looked up as she jumped over him, guard raised before he felt his saber jump out of his hands completely, flying into the dirt below and extinguishing upon impact. She landed behind him, and in doing so, sent a flurry of rapid cuts into the Jedi’s back. If it weren’t for his armor he’d have been dead right there, though the saber tip still found its mark, melting through the armor and piercing skin, the sound of sizzling and bubbling echo throughout his ears as she acted like the painter to his canvas, and before he knew it, he hit the floor face first. His force defenses were completely broken, he tried pulling himself up for a moment, completely forgetting about the looming threat, cackling as he struggled.

His back burned, the cuts weren’t deep but he definitely felt them. He lay for a moment, spitting out the black ash that had covered his face on impact. He lifted his chest off of the ground, quickly turning his head to see the Sith had something else in mind for him, her hand surged with lightning for a few seconds before she chucked it directly at him. He dived forward into a roll, the ground in which he lay almost exploding with electricity as the lightning made its impact. He flung his arm forward, concentrating for a minute, from the ashes, his lightsaber flew back to him. Igniting as soon as he gripped it once more, he turned to face his opponent who was nowhere to be found. Another screech pierced his ears, then the sound of her crimson blade igniting once more. She moved as quickly as she did, but it didn’t matter, leaping into the air in an attempt to finish Flaytern off, he predicted it this time. Now with a genuine anger burning in his eyes he reached out, gripping her by the throat with the force. She stopped in midair, the sound of of gurgling and gagging as her windpipe was slowly pinched closed. Flaytern’s fury burned, he held her there until she went purple, then used the force to slam her into the ground below, a disgusting crack followed the landing.

He walked over to her, she was lay down on her back, retching in a similar manner to he was, black ash covering her face. One of her legs was broken, the bone piercing straight through the skin, a disgusting sight even for a seasoned Jedi. The same visions appeared as they did earlier, in conjuction this time. His mother to his left, his father to his right. Their lips moved, but no sound was heard, he simply ignored them, kneeling down and retrieving the lightsaber of the female Sith. The dark side corruption faded from her skin, leaving behind a rather beautiful woman. She had perfect, pale moonlit skin, blue eyes and her raven hair was tied back in a ponytail. She looked up at him, wide eyed and lip trembling. “P… please master Jedi. Let me go!”.

Still knelt down, he stared at her completely with a stern stoneface, listening to her pleas for as long as she spoke. The pain in his back still blistering, but he ignored it, pushing it out of his mind. He clipped his saber to his belt, offering a hand to her. She took it eagerly. Exhaling through his nose he shook his head, leaning in to speak to her. “No”. Before she even knew it, her own crimson saber had ignited into her heart, she died with a hiss, her body slumping back into the ash, laying still until it was completely covered by the storm.