#i have a *lot* of oc fics that have been lounging for ages so i think it's time i get my ish organized and post a few

[thatfanfictionchick]

TWST - Leona's braid

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Leona x Val[OC]

Rating: G

Warnings: Mention of blood;

Word count: 1351

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“What’s the herbivore doin’ here?” Leona strolled into the Savanclaw Spelldrive field, his gaze sweeping over Val sitting in the bleachers. She had her feet kicked up and was flicking through a book, a comically large straw hat on her head.

Jack pointed his thumb at Ruggie. “He invited her.”

“What?” Ruggie said innocently. “Leona likes having people watch him.” Leona glared at the smug tone in Ruggie’s voice but Ruggie was overtly interested in tying his laces. 

Leona growled and grabbed his broom. “Whatever, let’s get started.”

Val was half-heartedly attempting to catch up on her Potionology reading while also watching the Savanaclaw team play. They were really good, and it made her wonder what the Diasomnia team must be like to have beaten them as easily as Leona claimed. Savanaclaw was agile and brutal; even against their own dorm mates they didn’t hold back. Jack was an absolute powerhouse, easily clearing the way for his side to score. Ruggie tended to hang back, causing all sorts of mayhem, but when he made his move he made it as flashy as possible. Leona seemed not to be trying to intentionally show off for once, but it was near impossible not to watch him anyway. He really was a sight to behold when he was actually making an effort.

She was trying to finish a passage on mandrake roots with little success when she heard someone yell. She lifted her head, barely catching a glimpse of the disc flying straight at her. She flinched, bracing herself for the pain. Instead there was a shadow falling over her, a grunt and a sound like a firecracker going off. She opened her eyes, holding her breath, only to see Leona crouched on his broom in front of her. The disc, sent arcing away, made a sharp turn midair and was quickly snatched up by Ruggie who raced to the far side of the field. Leona shook his hand before turning his head to look at her. He was careless with that block and blood welled up on his rapidly swelling knuckles. “You okay?”

She was halfway down her seat, her ridiculous hat lying on the ground behind her. Her hair was a riot of rainbow colors twisted together in at least a dozen braids. Her eyes were huge and as he watched she took a gasping breath before finally squeaking out “holy shit!” She stared at him for a long second before continuing. “That was…really cool.”

He had to look away so she didn’t see him smirking. Standing on the broom he waved his uninjured hand at her. “Well then…” but he trailed off as dark waves of hair suddenly fell over his shoulders. Somehow the elastic holding his hair had snapped. He scoffed and hopped to the ground, growling about the sudden inconvenience. He didn’t even have an extra to use. A small cry caught his attention and he turned to see Val tugging a black hair tie off her wrist from among the tangle of beaded bracelets.

“Here,” she said. “You can - your braid is loose.” He looked down and sure enough, another elastic was missing from the end of a dark braid, the hair beginning to unravel. “How did that even happen?”

There was just a moment for Leona to think, and suddenly he was leaning over Val in her seat, making her lean back in surprise. “Well?” he taunted. “Hurry up ‘n fix it.”

Val swallowed hard, huffing as she straightened up. He was very close and it was doing strange things to her heart. “Fine,” she said. “Because I owe you now.” He was smirking and it took a very concentrated effort to look at his hair and not his lips. She carefully ran her fingers down the loose braid and gathered up the strands, quietly surprised by how soft his hair was. For some reason she’d always expected it would be coarse. The hair was thick and it took her a second to adjust to it; her own hair was so fine in comparison. She reached the end and realized that the hair tie dangling from her pinky would be way too big. Fortunately when Epel had braided her hair early that morning he had used small different colored elastics which left her plenty to choose from. To be annoying she picked a pink one, pulling it free and quickly tying the end of Leona’s braid before he could complain.

“Cute,” he drawled. “Now finish.”

She scowled at him. “Oh come on, you can make a ponytail yourself.”

Leona lifted his injured hand, blood dripping freely from the broken skin. “Not really, no.”

“Ah!” she shrieked. “Your hand!” She made to hold it and he moved it away.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I’ll deal with it after. Finish what you were doin’.”

She looked unconvinced, her brow drawn in concern, but after a moment she reached around his neck and combed her fingers through his hair. It would have been easier if he’d turned around but she got the feeling he wouldn’t just to continue tormenting her. “You’re a pest,” she muttered.

He didn’t reply. She was being stupidly gentle with his hair and it was honestly taking everything in him not to shiver as she carefully gathered it up before winding the elastic around it. It was almost enough to make him rethink his decision to tease her.

“There.” She gave the ponytail one last tug, maneuvering her fingers around his ears as she carded them through the hair on top of his head to smooth down any bumps and finished by brushing his bangs to the side. She smiled. It was always kind of nice to do someone else’s hair. Even if that person was the resident grumpy cat. She reached for his hand saying “now can I please-”

“Nope.” In an instant Leona had jumped back on his broom and was gliding away. There was absolutely no way she was going to hold his hand after that.

“Leona!” Val sprang from her seat. “Get back here! We have to take care of your hand!”

There were easy magical fixes for his hand, but he wasn't going to tell her that. She should know that. Besides, it was funnier to know she was worrying about it.

They made two more goals before Ruggie noticed his injury and put a stop to practice, chastising Leona for being careless. Val was waiting and she glared at him while Ruggie easily mended the broken skin.

"There," he drawled while flashing his hand at her. "All better. Ya happy now?"

"No!" she snapped. "You shouldn't have gone back out there with it like that in the first place!"

"You get hurt sometimes, not a big deal," he said. She huffed angrily and folded her arms across her chest, her foot tap-tapping on the ground. "Why're you so worked up about it?"

She refused to look at him, her fingers gripping her upper arms tightly. After a moment she quietly said "you got hurt because of me."

Ruggie's ears perked and a few feet away Jack stopped what he was doing. The both of them looked at Leona, waiting to see what happened next. A slow grin spread across Leona's face and he stepped right in front of her. She lifted her eyes to his and he held his newly healed hand in front of her face. "It's still sore," he taunted. "If you're feelin' that guilty you can kiss it better."

Her cheeks flushed and for a very long second she stared at him in disbelief. Then she did what Ruggie would go on to describe as “just about the suavest thing I’ve seen in my life”; she carefully took Leona’s hand in her own and, while maintaining direct eye contact, kissed each knuckle. Leona’s ears were plastered to his skull and Val was grinning like Floyd, which was unnerving all on its own. “All better!” she chimed in a sing-song tone. Dropping his hand she waved at Ruggie and Jack, making a swift exit. “See ya later!” 

If her burning face was any indicator, she desperately did not want to see them later.

[eatcandlewax]

i have returned to expand upon the leech sibling dating idia post

i'm still impartial about writing the leech sibling as an oc or y/n, but i've just been calling them sage for now. on one hand, I really like the leech sibling reader fics, but on the other idk if it's okay to have this much lore and it still be an x reader.

anyways, i just wanted to write some general little hcs :)

they are the same age as jade and floyd. my reasoning for this one is just because it created more scenarios that made me giggle.

sorta a mix between the jade and floyd. not as unpredictable but also not completely calm. it depends on the situation, even if they choose to be chaotic at the most inappropriate times.

they like tech and internet related things. they're interested in video games and any relatively neat technology since there probably wasn't a lot of that in the coral sea. i also thought it'd be funny if they just had a hyperfixation on learning internet culture and became a living shitpost.

also i wanted them and idia to play obey me together bc teehee

they're in the light music club. not only are they in a room with kalim, lilia, and cater on a regular basis, but they're also given the tools to play music. mostly wanted this detail because they would play the most chaotic music. i could make an entire playlist for it stg-

they keep eating shit from the mostro lounge's kitchen. floyd doesn't do work 50% of the time, jade tries to force feed everyone mushrooms, sage is eating everything in the kitchen. perfect balance for giving azul a migraine.

"please stop eating the food, we need it for the customers"

"are you telling me to go hungry? you're making me do labor on an empty stomach? bad boss! horrible! jail for azul!"

sage dating idia would eventually lead to jade and floyd having the jurisdiction to enter idia's room. not because idia gave it to them, but because they're little shits and they wanted to bother their sibling.

like, sage and idia would be lying in bed after sage skipped work and floyd would just barge in for funsies.

you can't tell me that floyd wouldn't hop into bed with them and start a cuddle puddle.

at some point idia would stop screaming everytime and get used to it, surprisingly.

although it'd take a while for it to come to this, i feel like idia would end up getting fairly comfortable with floyd and jade. which would be an odd sight to see ignihyde's shut in dorm leader with the shady leech siblings.

ortho would immediately adopt the leech siblings as his own and get extremely excited whenever he saw them.

it makes it really hard for idia to be upset at them barging into his room when ortho is so happy about it

sometimes the leech siblings will just steal ortho

there's no reason

they just think it's funny and like hanging out with the little man

"please return my brother"

"our brother now :)"

idia starts panicking when the fish mafia is just doing fun little things with ortho

like random games and crafts

idia is also genuinely worried that one of them will break ortho

not because they're careless

but because floyd and sage hug him all the time and idia KNOWS how hard them fuckers squeeze

it's unlikely that they'd break his robot body, but he wouldn't be surprised if it happened

leech siblings are just built different

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 11

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N: As always, the lovely KC (only in mention) belongs to the beautiful @kc-and-oc . Thank you for everyone holding my blushing little hand through this and listening to me whine about it. Also thank you for all the ones providing me with research information 👀. You know who you are! 💛

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: Langague, depiction of alcohol consumption, depiction of drug abuse, graphic depiction of explicit NSFW content - do NOT read if under the age of 18!

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell

And we were trying different things

We were smoking funny things

Making love out by the lake to our favorite song

Sipping whiskey out the bottle, not thinking 'bout tomorrow

Singing Sweet home Alabama all summer long

~ Kid Rock - All Summer Long ~

~ 10 months prior ~

It had been an unusually hot day, even for the middle of August. The heat hazes over the scalding hot streets were omnipresent, and people everywhere were trying to find some relief from the burning sun.

Lizzie loved every second of it.

She didn’t mind the high temperatures at all and relished the warmth on her skin as she stepped outside the old house in Kensington. It belonged to Ethan Parkin and Equinox had been keeping their rehearsal rooms in his converted cellar ever since Lizzie could remember.

They had just finished a long day of putting together the last details for their upcoming European tour. It had taken them all day until everyone had been satisfied with the results. Finally outside again, Lizzie intended to make the most out of the remaining hours of daylight.

It had suited her just fine when Orion had mentioned the poetry slam happening just around the corner of where he was living. He had invited all of them to come, but all except Lizzie had already made plans for the evening. Skye had wanted to come as well, but after receiving a text, she had abruptly changed her mind again.

So now it was only the two of them riding on the West Kensington tube station towards Gloucester Road. Orion was casually carrying a huge bag containing one of his guitars over his shoulder.

“Why are you taking that with you?” Lizzie asked him curiously. “You usually keep them in the rehearsal room.”

“Everything has its time, may it be little or large. The time of the strings on this guitar are almost over; I need to replace them,” Orion said. “I don’t have any suitable ones at the rehearsal room though. I’ll just drop the guitar off at home and we’ll be on our way again.”

They had just hopped onto the Circle Line that would take them to Notting Hill; Orion watched her from across his seat. “Why do you look so surprised?”

Lizzie tilted her head to one side. “In all these years, none of us has ever been at your place before. Except for Merula, of course,” she added matter-of-factly.

They were about to reach Notting Hill Gate and Orion motioned for her to get up. “Then it’s about time.”

They had to walk a bit from the tube station to the house where Orion was living. Although it took them about fifteen minutes to get there, Lizzie didn’t even notice. They passed through bustling streets, several of them lined with market stalls selling food and curious little trinkets. The colourful terraces and fronts that made Nottinghill so famous brightened Lizzie’s mood even further.

She and Orion were talking about all kinds of things, the band, the tour, the fact that Lizzie had never been to a poetry slam before; something, Orion told her, they would definitely need to change.

When they arrived at their destination, Lizzie dipped her head back and looked up at the brightly painted front of the old house. It was bigger than the ones surrounding it and Lizzie presumed it was made up of several flats.

“Are you coming?” Orion called over to her; he was waiting in the doorway, holding the door open for her.

Lizzie smiled as she followed him into the cool darkness of the stairwell. “I just thought this place fits you.”

He laughed softly as he climbed the stairs behind her. “What makes you think that?”

“It’s a mix of so many different things,” Lizzie explained, “traditional, but also free-spirited and unconventional, old-fashioned and modern at the same time; just like you.”

She heard Orion laugh again. “Well, if you think so.”

They walked right to the top floor, where two dark blue doors branched off the landing. Orion unlocked the one on the left and stepped aside to let her enter his flat first.

Lizzie found herself standing in one huge, sun-filled room; her eyes were immediately drawn to the big skylights in the bare brick walls through which the light was filtering in. It was a lot tidier than she would have expected from someone with as much creative energy as Orion. But even though the furniture was pretty minimalistic, the room seemed to breathe Orion’s energy.

Everywhere she looked Lizzie could see something that was so inherently him; a half-finished travel book on India, a bowl full of colourful crystals, a small dreamcatcher hanging over his bed in the far corner of the room. Almost every free surface was occupied by plants of all forms and sizes; they added a pleasant pop of colour to the otherwise neutral toned place.

Everything Orion needed on a daily basis seemed to be in the room Lizzie was standing in right now; the only thing she was surprised to notice was the total lack of anything to do with music. While she kept her main drum kit at their rehearsal room when they weren’t on tour, she had a smaller one over at her own place, as well as some other percussion and a guitar for when she felt like a change.

Her unasked question was answered when Orion walked past her into an adjacent room Lizzie hadn’t noticed before, his guitar still strung over his shoulder. Curious, she followed behind and had to chuckle when she saw the reason why there were no traces of Orion’s love for music in the main room.

The whole second room of his flat had been turned into some kind of home studio. All of their awards and golden records were hung on the walls, alternating with several old guitars. All of them seemed to be in pristine condition.

On Lizzie’s left side was a huge table that was littered with notebooks, plectrums and a simple switchboard she assumed Orion used for recordings. What piqued her interest was located on the other side of the room, however; all the instruments featured in their band were set up there, including a worn looking, blue drum kit, almost similar to the one she had at home for practising.

Lizzie smiled and stepped closer to it as Orion deposited his guitar on the worktable. She ran her hand over the floor tom, one of the horizontally mounted drums. Something about it felt oddly familiar.

“Do you remember it?”

Lizzie looked up from the drums and saw Orion leaning against the doorframe, watching her. “You should, it’s the one you used on our first tour. The label let me have it for practically nothing.”

The memory made her smile and she tapped her fingers against the slightly worn drum head in a quick, alternating rhythm. “Why am I not surprised at all that you’re using half of your place for making music?”

He mirrored her smile. “Passion is like a living thing, it needs room to breathe and be free if it wants to thrive. Did you think I made up all the instrument parts for our songs only in my head?”

Lizzie picked up one of the drumsticks and flipped it, laughing as she caught it again. “And your neighbours are okay with you running your one-man band up here?”

“So far, no one has complained,” Orion grinned before pushing himself off the wall. He motioned to her to follow him. “Come on, the studio’s great but I want to show you the best part of this place.”

She followed him back into the other room, where he led her to one of the huge skylights. Lizzie noticed the steep, rickety looking steps beneath it. Orion reached up and undid the latch before quickly climbing upwards and vanishing through the window.

When she didn’t follow immediately, his head popped back into view. “What’s wrong?”

Lizzie eyed the steps sceptically. “These don't look really trustworthy.”

Orion laughed and extended his hand to her. “Don’t you trust me?” His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Or are you scared?”

“As if,” Lizzie snorted indignantly and climbed up after him, completely ignoring his offer for help.

Her momentary flare of stubborness died as quickly as it had come when she stepped past Orion and out onto a beautiful terrace, set back into the roof of the building. It wasn’t a particularly large space, but it was more than enough for a sunchair, a set of lounge chairs and a table. A huge parasol protected the area from the sun, but even so it was burning hot up here. The ground was laid with wooden floorboards and several chains of fairy lights and small lampions were fixed to the walls or wound about the railing of the sunshade.

Not one to be intimidated by the heat, Lizzie walked over to the wrought iron railing and leaned over it, admiring the breathtaking view stretching out in front of her. The skyline of London was glittering in the sunlight and she could make out the sea of green that was Kensington Gardens.

“Wow,” she breathed, “the view is fantastic.”

She heard Orion chuckle from somewhere behind her. “It is.”

Lizzie’s eyes fell to the many plant pots lining the length of the terrace. Like the plants inside, they added something peaceful to the atmosphere; she had never known Orion was so into gardening.

She ran her finger over the leaves of one of them. “Who’s taking care of these when we’re on tour?”

“My neighbour,” Orion answered, “she knows her way around plants. She is teaching botany at Queen Mary University.”

Lizzie had spotted a very familiar looking specimen with distinctly pinnate leaves. She turned to Orion with a grin. “And your professor neighbour is alright with watering this illegal little fellow here?”

Orion laughed. “She’s very liberal on the matter, really. Where do you think I got it from?”

“All for scientific reasons, I presume.”

“It does open the mind to a new level of creativity,” Orion shrugged, making Lizzie laugh out loud.

“That sounds so much like you. No wonder I don’t get the lyrics half the time.”

Lizzie stepped back from the railing and wandered over to the sunchair. The heated surface bit into the bare skin of her legs as she lounged into it, but she enjoyed the warmth as soon as the initial pain subsided.

“I can definitely see why this is your favourite place,” she sighed, “I could just stay here all day.”

“The poetry slam doesn’t start for another hour,” Orion said, “and it’s not far from here, so we don’t have to go just yet. Do you want a drink or something?”

Lizzie turned her head and shaded her eyes with her hand. “I like the sound of that.”

***

One glass of ice cold white wine turned into two, and then turned into a number Lizzie couldn’t possibly remember anymore. The sun had long gone down and the poetry slam had started ages ago, but they were still sitting on Orion’s rooftop terrace with no intention of going anywhere anytime soon.

With the sun gone, the air had grown cooler; the floor and walls were heated by the day’s sun, but Lizzie had found herself hugging her bare knees, shivering just a little. Orion had gone back inside to bring her something to keep her warm; he had come back with a plain black hoodie that she had gratefully accepted. Orion was much taller than Lizzie was, however and so the sweater hung loose around her shoulders and went down past beneath her hips. Lizzie had to roll up the sleeves several times until her hands were free again, but she was glad for the extra warmth it provided.

It didn’t surprise her that Orion didn’t grow the weed plant out of sheer botanical interest; accompanying the wine, they were sharing a joint with a mixture he had created himself. Lizzie couldn’t tell if she was primarily drunk or high at this point, the only thing she knew was that she had never in her life seen anything so fascinating as the fairy lights reflected in her wine glass.

“Like teeny tiny fireflies,” she giggled as she twirled the glass between her fingers, delighted by the way the light sparkled in the cold drink.

“I think you’ve caught a bit too much,” Orion chuckled but handed her the joint back anyway. Although he had been wearing a very detached grin on his face for the last half an hour or so, he wasn’t nearly as giddy as Lizzie; but then again, he was probably much more used to smoking than she was.

“And besides,” he continued, holding his own glass up against the lights, “they’re clearly little stars; how can you not see that?” His face grew pensive. “A whole, tiny wine glass galaxy.”

“You’ve no idea what you’re talking about,” Lizzie declared firmly. She lounged deeper into her armchair and took a deep drag. She dipped her head back and slowly blew the smoke into the air; the way it made the lights hazy was really pretty. “And it’s called a teacup galaxy.”

“Aren’t we all galaxies in our own teacups, in one way or another?”

Lizzie hummed in response. “In that case, I’d actually prefer the wine glass.”

She closed her eyes and let the sensation of the cushions in her back envelope her for a moment. From somewhere in the neighbourhood music was drifting up to them; from what she could hear, it sounded tropical, Caribbean maybe. Her thoughts being deliciously hazy, Lizzie could just imagine not being on a rooftop in London, but on a beautiful beach somewhere far, far away.

She smiled to herself; there could be worse company on a tropical island than Orion. The smile turned into a smirk as she thought about the many different tattoos she knew were decorating his well-toned upper body; she could most definitely imagine having worse company.

Indulging the idea of lounging in the warm sand with a drink and the rushing of the waves in the air a few moments longer, a sudden thought struck her and she sat upright.

“I just had the most brilliant idea.”

Surprised by her unexpected outburst of energy, Orion almost dropped his glass. “I told you smoking broadens the mind,” he said after regaining his composure. “What is it?”

“We should so change our tour display. It’s boring.”

A mixture of intrigue and scepticism showing on his features, Orion tilted his head. “So your suggestion would be?”

Excited by her flash of genius, Lizzie placed her now empty glass on the table between them and leaned forward. “Two words: steel drums.”

Orion didn’t say anything for a moment, a crease forming on his forehead. Then, he broke into a dazzling smile. “That must be the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“I know, right? But it gets even better.”

“How could it get better than steel drums? More steel drums?”

Lizzie contemplated that possibility for a moment but discarded it quickly. “No, I don’t think so.” Her eyes lit up as she thought about her idea. “But you and Ev could totally play ukulele.”

Orion sighed. “Totally.”

A thought seemed to cross his mind. “But I’m not sure Ev can play the ukulele.”

Lizzie was dismayed by this. “I thought if you can play the guitar you can automatically play the ukulele.”

“If you want to call what Ev does playing.”

She had to snort with laughter at Orion’s dry tone. “We’ll just replace him with KC, she’s the prettier one anyway.” The thought of KC performing a hula dance on stage had her laugh even harder.

“There’s a problem though,” Orion broke her out of her entertaining thoughts.

“What’s that?”

“You can’t play the steel drums.”

“Who says that I can’t?”

“Well, can you?”

“I can learn,” Lizzie replied stubbornly. “How hard can that be? You only have one steel drum and I have... “ She frowned as she was trying and failing to envision her drum kit in her head. “How many drums do I have? I can’t remember.”

“More than one, in any case,” Orion laughed and extended his hand towards her empty glass. “You go think about that, and I’ll get you a refill.”

Lizzie was quicker though, snatching the glass out of his reach and getting up. “Don’t worry, I can go myself.”

She walked towards the skylight leading back into the flat but had underestimated the effect of both the drugs and the alcohol on her body. Shaking her head a little, Lizzie took a moment to steady herself.

Just when she thought she had found her balance again, her foot caught in the wire of one of the fairy lights. She stumbled forward with a jolt, ripping the plug right out of its socket and plunging a good portion of the rooftop into darkness.

Luckily for her, Orion didn’t feel the effects of their smoke as much as she did. His reaction time was still quick enough to catch her before she could hit the ground. She could hear the breath leaving his lungs as she collided with his chest; at least he was softer than the floorboards would have been.

He laughed as she straightened up again. “Careful, drummer girl, that was close.”

Lizzie tilted her head as she looked up at him curiously. “You’re close.”

Only now realising their position, Orion mumbled an apology and started to move away from her but Lizzie was quicker. She had already scrambled up onto the seat next to him, still feeling a little dizzy. Her feet were resting on the arm of the lounge chair, her legs lying draped across Orion’s thighs.

“No, it’s alright,” she giggled and leaned against him, “you’re more comfortable than my chair anyway.”

Leaning towards the table to retrieve Orion’s glass, Lizzie’ head started spinning again and she had to grip his shoulder for support. She was glad when she felt Orion’s arm come around her back for added support.

“And besides,” she held the glass up triumphantly before bringing it to her lips, “that way, it’s easier to share this.”

They were sitting like that for a while, Lizzie leaning against Orion’s chest, her head nestled into the crook of his neck, while he had his arms around her. The music she had been hearing earlier was still playing, faintly carrying up towards them. Lizzie had her eyes closed, alternating between listening to the upbeat melody and the calm rhythm of Orion’s heartbeat.

Now that she was relaxing, she became increasingly aware of the combined effects of the many glasses of wine and the spliff they had relit again. She felt as if she was floating through a haze on the soft sound of the steel drums, as if she could fly right into the night sky until she was surrounded by a glittering sea of stars.

The only thing anchoring her was Orion, the steady rising and falling of his chest, the ends of his hair brushing against her cheek when he moved, the touch of his fingers against hers when he handed her back the wine they were sharing.

Her head was spinning and she hooked her finger underneath one of Orion’s woven bracelets, as if the physical holding on to him could prevent the rooftop from revolving around her. The breathy sigh leaving her lips turned into a giggle.

“I don’t know what you’ve put in that stuff but, damn, it packs a punch.”

Orion chuckled, the hand around her back playing with a strand of her ponytail; she had to laugh as he tickled her neck with the ends of it. “There’s nothing out of the ordinary in there.”

She leaned a little away from him so as to better see his face. “So, what is it? Spill it!”

His smile turned into a smirk. “Who am I to tell you all my secrets? A little mystery only adds to the fun.”

Intrigued by his evasiveness, Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “Is that a challenge?”

A curious expression flickered over Orion’s face for a moment. “Maybe.”

“Whatever it is, it’s thoroughly wrecking me,” Lizzie declared; that didn’t stop her from taking another sip of wine, however.

She could hear the laughter ringing in Orion’s voice. “That’s got less to do with the grass and more with all that wine. And the fact that you’re really, really small.”

“I’m not really, really small!” Lizzie replied indignantly.

“Of course you are, look at you; you’re basically a midget.”

Lizzie shoved him playfully, trying to keep a straight face but failing. “I’m not a midget and I’m not small!”

Orion caught her hand without so much as an effort. “Just look at you, you could wear my sweater as a dress.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m the perfect size.”

There it was again, that curious expression Lizzie had seen just a moment before. A crooked smile appeared on Orion’s face as his eyes flickered from her face over the rest of her body.

“I can hardly argue with that.”

Lizzie regarded him for a moment, trying to take his measure. The mood had shifted from the relaxed cuddle they’d shared into something entirely different. There was a sudden tension hanging in the air that made Lizzie’s skin tingle and she was sure that it had nothing to do with either the grass or the alcohol.

The corner of her mouth quirked up. “Is that so?”

She leaned forward again to put the wine glass away, using the momentum to shift her position. Turning slightly, she straddled Orion’s thighs, one arm resting lightly on his shoulder.

His dark eyes followed her every movement as she plucked the joint from his lips, gave it one slow, deliberate drag before putting it out against the wall, never breaking their eye contact. Holding the smoke inside her mouth for one long moment, she dipped her head back and blew it against the night sky. When she looked back at Orion again, his eyes on her were intense, making a shiver run down her spine. His hands were holding her hips, waiting on what she would do. Her lips curved into a smirk as she leaned in, her lips close to his ear.

“Only one way to find out.”

There was nothing hesitant about the way their lips found each other for the first time. Lizzie could taste the same fruity sweetness of the wine on his lips that was still hanging on hers.

Orion’s grip on her waist intensified and she could feel the rough skin of his hands as they found their way underneath her shirt, his fingers feeling deliciously cool against her heated skin. Her breath accelerated as their kiss deepend, her lips parting willingly as Orion’s tongue brushed against her lower lip.

She buried her hands in his long hair, as he pulled her closer, their bodies pressed together as closely as their position would allow. A low moan left Orion’s lips as she softly pulled at his hair, the movement of his head following her lead as he dipped it back into his neck.

Breaking their kiss, Lizzie’s lips started moving over his cheek to his jawline, her breath ghosting over his bare neck. She could see the goosebumps on his skin and feel his fingers dig into her waist as she teasingly ran her tongue over his collarbone. He sucked in his breath in surprise as her teeth nipped the sensitive skin and Lizzie couldn’t help but grin as her lips travelled upwards again.

Capturing his lips in another searing kiss, Lizzie’s breath hitched as his hands were sliding down from her waist over her hips. They came to rest on her bum, squeezing it tightly for a moment. She could feel his jeans becoming tighter as she ran her hand over him, coaxing another moan from his mouth. The sound made the heat spread from her stomach through her chest and into the rest of her body; she wanted to hear more of that.

Her fingers started working to undo his belt when he suddenly stopped her, gently pulling her hand away. Her eyes flew towards his face, a crease appearing on her brow.

“You not okay with this?”

Orion’s eyes were sparkling as he pulled her in for another kiss that took her breath away. When he pulled back, Lizzie’s head was spinning.

“Let’s take this inside,” he muttered into her ear. His voice sounded a lot deeper than what she was used to and she shuddered in anticipation.

Lizzie reluctantly climbed off him to let him get up. Orion couldn’t resist kissing her again, as he walked past her. Taking her hand, he pulled her towards the skylight that led down into the darkness of his flat. He climbed down the steps without a moment of hesitation; Lizzie, however, had to channel her concentration on something different than the burning need to feel Orion’s hands on her skin before tackling the unfamiliar steps.

And sure enough, two steps down, she misplaced her foot and felt herself falling for a moment. But for the second time that evening Orion was there, his hands providing her with something to hold onto.

Standing on the steps, Lizzie was a little taller than him. She gave in to the urge to pull him towards her and steal another kiss from him. His hands ran over her exposed thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Lizzie’s muscles tensed when he lifted her off the stairs, her legs wrapping around his midsection as he carried her over to his bed with a few short steps.

He lowered her down onto it and got rid of his shirt. There was no light in the room except for what was falling through the windows from the streetlights outside, but it was enough for Lizzie to see all of the countless tattoos decorating his skin, all the thoughtful quotes and intricate patterns.

She propped herself up on her elbows, locking eyes with him as he joined her on the bed. Reaching for his belt again, this time Orion let her undo it without objection. The deep moan she drew from him as she ran her hand over him a second time made her breathing speed up as well.

Much to her surprise, now that they’d changed location, their roles had reversed themselves. Where Lizzie had been in charge up on the rooftop, it was all she could do to keep her wits together as Orion let his hands roam her body.

The sweater she had still been wearing went almost instantly, quickly followed by her shirt and her shorts. Lizzie closed her eyes and held her breath as Orion worked his way from her lips over her neck, trailing kisses down between her breasts, lingering there for a sweet moment before moving on even lower. His soft lips combined with the bite of his beard almost drove her insane, but Lizzie just so managed to pull herself together.

Pushing him off her, she used his moment of confusion to flip him over, straddling him again. She shuddered at the feeling of him through her pants but pushed the thought aside; not just yet.

“Did you really think I was going to make this so easy for you?” she purred as she twirled his necklace around her finger. She smirked as she slightly repositioned herself on top of him, creating a delicious friction between them that had not only Orion exhale very slowly.

Lizzie pulled her hair tie out, enjoying the tickle as her light brown curls fell down beneath her shoulder blades. She bent forward to kiss Orion again, but he was simply staring at her.

“What?” she asked with a slight chuckle.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, brushing her hair that had fallen over her shoulder and was almost reaching his bare chest out of her face. Lizzie enjoyed the light pull as he raked his fingers through her mane. “So damn fucking beautiful.”

Lizzie felt a smile form on her lips before she kissed him, teasingly biting his lip. She could feel Orion’s hand wandering up her bare back to where her bra was still hooked. With a practised movement that didn’t surprise her in the least, he undid the clasp and Lizzie shrugged it off. The cool air coming in from the still open skylight hit her bare breasts and made her shiver from more than cold.

Orion’s hands danced over her thighs and up her sides until they found her breasts. Lizzie shuddered as his fingers grazed her sensitive spot at their base, her eyes closed to enjoy the sensation fully, when he suddenly stopped.

Opening her eyes again, she saw a curious look forming on his face as he turned her slightly so the light would better shine on her. Lizzie chuckled to herself; she knew exactly what he was so surprised to see.

“I never knew you had a tattoo,” Orion said, his eyes wandering over the black writing.

He traced his fingers over the inked words sneaking over her ribcage to the base of her breasts; the touch of his calloused fingertips made her sigh.

“You recognise the words?” she whispered with a smile, running her hand over one of Orion’s own tattoos on his chest.

“Unbounded like water, burning like wildfire,” he smiled, “of course I do; I wrote them after all. I had no idea you had them inked.”

She smiled back at him; the quote was taken out of one of her favourite songs Orion had ever written. “They’ve pulled at something in me ever since I heard them for the first time. I wanted to carry them with me wherever I go.”

A series of different emotions flickered over Orion’s face, much too quick for Lizzie to distinguish in the half-light of the room. He sat up, wrapping his arms around her, keeping her close. He kissed her with a passion that took her breath away.

“I want you,” he whispered into her ear, his voice low and husky in his throat, making Lizzie draw a shivering breath as she leaned her forehead against his.

“Then come and take me.”

It was all Orion needed to hear. He let himself fall back onto the bed, drawing her down with him. Their lips met in a passionate kiss before he flipped them around, so he was on top of her.

His head dipped against her shoulder as Lizzie reached down, tracing the edge of his boxers before her fingers disappeared beneath it. She ran them up and down his length, noting how his breath hitched, his arms tensing around her as she worked against him.

He stopped her after a few more strokes and moved away from her hand. Repaying her in kind, he ran his fingers over her pants, so very slowly, his eyes never leaving hers as she moaned at his touch. Hooking his fingers underneath the fabric, he pulled them off, leaving her fully exposed to him, but there wasn’t a single moment Lizzie felt vulnerable at all.

She gasped as Orion began to touch her properly; the touch of his rough fingertips was surprisingly soft, and combined with the trail of kisses he left on her hot skin, he made her feel like she was on fire. Her breathing strained, she managed to rasp out his name just before she would lose it completely.

Never stopping the movement of his hand, Orion looked up at her with a wicked grin on his lips.

“Anything the matter?”

All she wanted was to feel him by now but her words died on her lips as Orion slightly twisted his hand, making her inhale sharply.

With a low chuckle he withdrew his hand, making her miss his touch immediately. That short moment of regret was instantly forgotten when she felt Orion position himself before slowly pushing inside her.

For a fraction of a second, the reality that she was sleeping with one of her best friends hovered on the border of Lizzie’s mind, threatening to hit her; but when Orion started moving against her, their bodies instantly found a common rhythm. They were in tune with each other from the very first moment, all thoughts forgotten.

Their ragged breaths, her sweet sighs and his deep moans were a music of their own. Lizzie had her legs wrapped around Orion, her nails digging into his forearms; she could feel his muscles working underneath her fingers as he supported his weight with his arms. Even through the haze of her drunk and drugged mind, she was impressed with how flawlessly they were working together; his body against hers was feeling so incredibly natural, like they were meant to be that way.

She had no idea how, but just like before, Orion managed to hit all the right spots at the same time. Lizzie had trouble focusing on anything but the fire building inside her. She couldn’t form a coherent thought anymore, wasn’t able to think any further than the next breath, the next shock of pleasure Orion sent through her body as they moved.

Feeling she was almost there, her hold on him tightened as he picked up the pace, shifting slightly to take a little strain off his arms. Taken by surprise at the suddenly different angle, digging her fingers into Orion’s shoulders was all Lizzie could do as her high crashed over her like a tidal wave. Her body shook as she buried her face against Orion’s chest, clinging to him as if for dear life.

Hearing his name fall from her lips in a broken moan with her nails biting into his back, Orion couldn’t last much longer either. Their rhythm became an off-beat one, his movements more erratic than before. Lizzie could feel the muscles in his back tremble as he rode out his own high. His head dipped into the crook of her neck as both their breathings were starting to slow.

Orion stayed on top of her for a moment longer and kissed her one last time before pushing himself off of her. Lizzie breathed in deeply, running her hand over her tangled hair.

“Huh,” she chuckled, “who would’ve thought.”

“Who indeed,” Orion smirked.

The sizzling tension between them from before was gone and it just felt like it had always done between them; relaxed, familiar and completely natural.

They looked at each other for a moment before simultaneously bursting into laughter, nothing more than friends again, the sound carrying through the dark, out of the window and into the black night sky.

[yandearest]

May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (Hoseok x Reader Hunger Games AU) Chapter 1: The Reaping

Summary - Living in District 4 you never thought you would have to worry about being selected for the Hunger Games. With a training centre right near the dock of the houseboat you lived and fished from, your district was known for volunteers who trained their whole lives for a shot at glory and riches. But at age 18, your name is called and no girls volunteer to take your place. Your devastation is answered when Kim Namjoon volunteers for the males shortly after. Tall, muscular, highly intelligent and charming, the years of diligent preparation have bestowed Namjoon with the expectation of being the next District 4 champion after Finnick Odair last won 3 years ago.

Fishing for a living has granted you skills with a knife but, as your mentor Finnick is quick to describe, your beautiful face may well be your best asset.

Upon arrival in the Capitol you are quickly faced with the reality that Namjoon may not even be the biggest danger inside the Arena. Especially when you capture the obsessive attention of District 2′s own volunteer, and killing machine, Jung Hoseok. Hope soon fades from ‘survival’ to ‘the mercy of a painless death’ but Hoseok certainly has other plans.

Pairing - Hoseok x (fem)Reader 

Genre - thriller, angst, yandere

Word Count 4.6K

Warnings - [in later chapters] major character death, graphic depictions of violence, swearing, obsession, dubcon-smut (smut will be marked so reading is optional), gore, unrealistically beautiful oc because I’m a sucker for that shitty trope and want to live vicariously through my writing (sue me)

The following is a dark fic featuring a yandere character, violence, obsession, and coercion. By no means does writing about this in a fictional setting condone any of those behaviours, much like Stephen King writing horror doesn’t mean he approves of psychotic killers in reality. Please avoid reading if any of these warnings makes you uncomfortable.

Cross posted on A03 so people can subscribe for updates/notifications

What little shred of hope for survival you may have had, after hearing your name announced from the reaping, was immediately squashed minutes later by two simple words. “I volunteer”.

Volunteers from District 4 were not uncommon. There was a not-so-secret training complex the capitol turned a blind eye to, in a warehouse near the docks. During your time in school you knew of several kids who trained before and after classes. At the age of twelve some of them dropped out all together, with the sole purpose of training every waking second of the day so they could volunteer at eighteen. There was no need for an education if your only purpose in life was to compete in a death match that offered a lifetime of rewards to the winner.

After the misfortune of having your name drawn you looked around, silently begging for one of the girls to come up and replace you, only for no takers. But when Kim Namjoon eagerly announced his intentions of volunteering (the reaped twelve-year-old boy on stage immediately bursting into grateful tears and rushing back to his mother in the square) it was easy to understand why no one had stepped up this year. Back when you had attended school, before dropping out to assist your father on his fishing boat after your mother died, Namjoon had been in some of your classes –although he very rarely showed up. He was immensely popular with everyone; in part because of his handsome physique and model like dimples, partially because of his superior intelligence, but mostly because it was well known he was by far the leader from all the kids in training.

You had never attended a training session (more fool you for thinking you would never be unlucky enough to have your name drawn, and banking on one of the girls who did train to take your place if you did) but the center near the wharf was close to where your family’s boat — that functioned as both a fishing ship and your house — was docked. During the many occasions you had walked past, you sometimes stopped to peer through a crack in the doorway and watch. A majority of the times you had seen Namjoon inside amongst the group of around twenty regulars; working out with weights, sparring with an array of weapons, or climbing the rope attached to the ceiling that was surely 30 feet high with nothing but cement to drop back down to. The years of work had turned the dimpled twelve-year-old you once shared a math class with into a lethal killing machine. And now you were going to be stuck in an arena with you as one of his targets.

You stood frozen as Namjoon strode up on stage, a grin on his face, waving to the camera before shaking the hand of the capitol’s representative — a pastel blue haired woman by the name of Periwinkle Eveweather. You could tell Periwinkle much preferred Namjoon to you from the twinkle in her eye at how well he was playing up to the camera. There would be no need for her to have to force him to act like being slaughtered like an animal was an honor, like she would for you. The next moments passed far too quickly in a blur, being lead off stage to bid farewell to your families. As you sobbed in your father’s arms, an only child saying your last goodbye, Namjoon was getting a pat on the back from his older sister, a previous volunteer and victor. Shortly after you were ushered on board to the train where you now sat, Namjoon at your side and your mentor sitting across the table.

A small part of your brain found it difficult to take Finnick Odair as a mentor seriously given he was younger than you. But your rational side was quick to silence that judgment with a reminder that exact dismissal of his age was a major contributing factor to his win three years ago. The feeling of despair ate away at your insides as Finnick took an immediate liking to Namjoon. You couldn’t blame him for it, Namjoon was by far the more likely of the two of you to survive, so it only made sense for him to put more attention on the candidate with the best chance, but it still made you feel awful none the less.

“And what about you YN?”

You jumped feeling Namjoon’s hand tapping your leg softly under the table, his head wordlessly nodding in Finnick’s direction without making any eye contact to you. You had become so distracted by the mug of tea in a decorative porcelain cup in your hands, you failed to recognize your mentor’s piercing sea green eyes were now focused on you.

“Sorry, what about my what?” you mumbled dumbly, feeling incredibly insecure at Finnick’s sigh.

“Your skills, what do you bring to the games?”

Well that explained why you had tuned out, there was no need for you to listen to Namjoon describing all the potential ways he was going to kill you within a week or so. And there were a hell of a lot of ways.

“I don’t know really, I’m not someone who’s trained like Namjoon,” you paused to think, pretending not to notice Namjoon’s smug smirk in the corner of your peripheral vision as Finnick frowned slightly.

“Neither was I, and that caused a lot of the careers to underestimate me,” Finnick replied, shooting Namjoon a pointed look which caused his smirk to disappear. You tried not to smile at that, settling instead for relaxing slightly into your seat.

“I can fish, so depending on the arena I can potentially find food, but more importantly I know my way around with a knife,” you declared, feeling a little more confident. The hopeless despair was still overwhelming but the least you could do for yourself, and your father, was to go out with honor.

“Very good,” Finnick nodded “don’t underestimate your face either.”

“My face?” You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “How am I supposed to kill anyone with that?”

Finnick sighed, leaning further back into the lounge he was occupying on his own, pinching the bridge of his nose on his handsome face in exasperation.

“Both of you listen, this is potentially more important than all of those little training sessions or fishing catches the both of you have ever made combined. You’re clearly genetically blessed to continue District 4’s reputation of having the most beautiful tributes, you in particular” He paused to lazily point in your direction. “If you actually want to win the games, you want the people of the capitol to adore you. And they’re a city of shallow cunts,” another pause to shoot a charming smile in Periwinkle’s direction “no offense”.

“Offense taken!” Periwinkle gasped indignantly but Finnick was already speaking over her without a care.

“And as shallow cunts what these people love, more than anything in their pathetic little vapid lives, is beauty. You,” a point to Namjoon, “have been training your whole life for this and will have a body to represent that. Show it off. They love flair, they love confidence, they love a show. Flex those biceps for them, they’ll go mad. Flash your abs and they’ll fall in love. And work those dimples, cause these suckers sure worked for me, got me a trident,” Finnick grinned to show off his smile and twin indents on each corner of his mouth, Namjoon mirrored the gesture and you felt your heart clench at how easily he seemed to turn on his charm. Tall, well built and handsome, he was just as gorgeous as Finnick. Too bad he was very likely about to be the literal death of you.

“And you,” Finnick turned his attention to your direction and you felt Namjoon’s eyes burning into you from the side “you’ll be the prettiest thing they’ve seen in years, possibly in the history of the games”

Your face flushed at the comment, even though you knew it wasn’t intended as a compliment. There was no point in sweet little lies to butter you up and the fact of the matter was you knew you had an aesthetically pleasing face. Your facial features were in perfect balance, skin clear, thick hair that fell to the middle of your back and eyes that you had been told sparkled like stars in the night.

“They’ll love that shit,” his finger lazily circled around pointing to your cheeks that were flushed in embarrassment at his candid assessment of your appearance.

“These people are so used to artificial, that something so beautiful and pure will be coveted like the fattest diamond they could possibly hang from their necks. You ever fucked a guy, sweetheart?”

“Excuse me?” you balked at the invasive question, earning a sharp laugh out of Namjoon, a scandalized shriek from Periwinkle, and an eye roll from Finnick.

“I’ll take that for a yes and don’t worry I’m not interested. The capitol thrives on corruption, greed, and a need to claim rare treasures for their own. Put an innocent little dove like you, with a face like yours, in front of them and they’ll go insane. Act right at the parade and in your interviews and you’ll have sponsors gifting you everything you could ever need in that arena”.

You sat wide eyed not even knowing how to respond. You didn’t bother with arguing over the status of your supposed virginity because whether it was true or not didn’t actually matter, it was all about the perception. If getting dolled up and fluttering your eyelashes could potentially result in a knife being dropped from the sky in the arena, you could suck it up and give these disgusting people what they wanted.

X

The train ride to the capitol took just under three days in total. During that time Finnick and Namjoon spent a lot of time together, which you weren’t surprised with in the least. It was only natural to favor the tribute with the better odds, as much as Finnick’s little speech on the first day tried to make you think you could have a chance. Finnick still made some time for you though, which was mostly spent on guiding you how to attract sponsors. You spent a majority of the time in your room, a lot of it crying, most of it sleeping, and some of it playing around with technologies you had never had access to before in your life. The only time you really saw Namjoon was during breakfast and dinner where you ate together with Finnick to discuss district strategy. You weren’t surprised at all by Namjoon’s plan to join the career pack, but you were slightly surprised when he spoke of you as a part of that plan. You were a little annoyed he didn’t even think to ask your opinion, but logically speaking it’s not like you had any option. It was either join them or make yourself an easy target. Plus, any alliance with Namjoon reduced your need to have kill any other tributes personally. The only thing now was to hope districts 1 and 2 were as receptive to the idea as you were.

When you arrived at the capitol you were immediately ushered into a clinic that was like a fusion between a spa and a hospital. You were stripped, examined, and assessed by a doctor before being dressed in a paper thin hospital gown. After a painful injection (“that’s your tracker dear, so the capitol can monitor you in the arena”) you were passed over to the beauty department who scrubbed, exfoliated, waxed, showered, moisturized, treated, conditioned and polished your entire body from head to toe. But at the end when you were standing before a mirror, you could see the results were worth it.

As Finnick had stated, you were already beautiful to start with, but it was like taking an uncut gem and polishing the stone to make it shine. Your hair was a couple of inches shorter with all the damage from years of saltwater being trimmed off. A treatment of conditioners you couldn’t care to remember had tamed your thick locks into smooth waves that had been layered to frame your face and flow prettily down your back. Whatever impurities that existed on your skin before had been entirely lasered away, and your whole complexion was now soft and glowing. Your eyebrows had been plucked into identical manicured arches and some sort of needled gun had permanently filled them in. A gel had been applied to your lips to boost their plumpness, without overly inflating them or drastically changing their shape, giving your mouth a cherubic quality. Staring at your reflection you raised a perfectly manicured finger to poke at your cheek, feeling the new silky smoothness beneath your fingertip, watching as your mirror image copied the action. It was surreal. You recognized the person in front of you as yourself, all of your features were still the same, but just somehow perfected?

You mostly ignored the gushing of your newly assigned stylist team — a set of triplets named Ruby, Garnet and Quartz — as they picked out garments, stretched measuring tape across and around your body and argued over what colors would bring out your eyes the best. They were sweet and well meaning with their compliments, but the growing nerves over being prepped for the chariot parade in a few hours made you unreceptive.

The concept they eventually decided on for your fishing district was ‘Rulers of the Sea’ and you were dressed in a Grecian inspired gown. The iridescent blue and green material, that sparkled like the sun reflecting off the ocean, was clasped at the top of your left shoulder with a silver broach in the shape of a starfish. Intricate embroidery was patterned around around the waist where the fabric was cinched tightly to create an overly enhanced hourglass silhouette. The bottom half flowed to your sandal clad feet and seemed to sway with the slightest of moments, a split on the right ran to the middle part of your thigh. Your eyes were a smoky combination of the colors from your dress, lashes coated in extensions and a layer of mascara to give you a seductive yet doe eyed appearance. There was a strange dichotomy in your styling where they were attempting to preserve your ‘natural’ and ‘innocent’ traits whilst simultaneously taking full advantage of the fact you were eighteen in order to market sex appeal.

Your favorite part (that you hated to admit even liking given the circumstance you were even in) was your hair. A section from each side had been pulled away and pinned at the back in a princess style, with numerous tiny clips of glowing sea shells and starfish holding it in place. Glittery extensions had been clipped in tastefully creating an appearance as if your hair was literally shining. This was then finished off by an ornate tiara placed on the top of your head.

By the time you were finished your stylists were practically in tears, fawning over you and calling you’re their greatest masterpiece. They mistook your eyes watering as pride in their work and not disgust at their pride in dressing a cow off before sending it to the slaughterhouse.

“No dear, you can’t cry and ruin all that make up we just spent so much time perfecting” Ruby chided, dabbing at your eyes with a tissue as Quartz and Garnet guided you out the door and into the small vehicle which was about to take you from the clinic to the parade. You didn’t dignify her with a response, merely grabbing the tissue from her hand as you were forced into the car. As soon as you were inside the car sped off, arriving at the destination very shortly after. From behind your tinted windows you could see horses being lead to empty chariots and your first sight of the other tributes, the people you were either going to have to kill or be killed by.

When the car stopped, Finnick was the one to open your door and offer you a hand to get out, which you accepted. As you stood up he appraisingly ran his eyes over all the details of your make-over, before nodding his approval.

“They did well,” he stated and you nodded your head in passive agreement as he dropped your hand to press his to the small of your back and guide you towards your chariot. Namjoon was already there, dressed in his own Grecian toga of the same fabric with a crown on the top of his newly styled hair. Sensing your arrival, he turned to look at you. Namjoon’s eyes widened comically before quickly composing his features almost as instantly as he had reacted. “Very well,” Finnick whispered, and you allowed an amused puff of air out.

“Your chariot awaits my dear,” Finnick said with a mock bow as he nudged you towards Namjoon, who extended his arm for you to hold on to. Not sure what else to do, you placed your hand delicately on his forearm, his other hand then coming to rest over the top. For a brief moment as Namjoon guided you both into the chariot, you could almost imagine you were a princess being taken to a ball by a handsome prince, but any such delusions were ruined by what Namjoon whispered next.

“It’s such a shame there can only be one winner, you really look good by my side.”

Your jaw clenched and you moved to rip your hand off his arm but his grip over yours instantly tightened with a laugh, as if expecting that exact reaction.

“Calm down princess, I don’t plan on killing your pretty little face for a while yet.”

You looked up at him like he was insane as the chariot began to move forward. He thought your reaction was from fear he was going to kill you now? And not that he perceived your life as only having value from being pretty enough for him? You were furious and about to rip into him before you heard the approaching roar of the crowd ahead at the end of the tunnel. Namjoon was oblivious to your rage, a perfectly poised smile, flexing his dimples that Finnick would be proud of, already painted on his face. You paused, for all you knew that could be an attempt to psych you out before facing the crowds, potentially losing you sponsor opportunities. Turning away from Namjoon, you took a deep breath to try and compose yourself. You plastered the docile soft-smiled wide eyed expression on your face that you had practiced with Finnick on the train, as your carriage emerged form the tunnel and onto the road lined with screaming spectators.

The entire parade was a blur of flashing lights, fireworks, thunderous cheering and echoes from the microphone that distorted whatever message the president greeted you with. By the time your chariot returned to the tunnel your mind was entirely blank but with the satisfied nod from Finnick as he waited to welcome you both back, you knew you had done well.

“If District 2 is anything to go by then you’ve won yourself a lot of admirers tonight” Finnick practically sang as he helped you down. Confused by his words you turned around looking for the other district to see the duo from two, the carriage over from yours. Dressed in gladiator styled garments, that was common from them every year, the girl was fiddling with a ruby dagger (you hoped was just a prop) whilst the boy was staring straight at you. ‘Boy’ was the wrong word to describe him, as he definitely had to have been the same age as you, if anything he looked slightly more mature than the legal age to even be here. He was tall, though not as tall as Namjoon, and lithe. Beneath a decorative breastplate you could see his sun kissed golden skin adorned with the toned definition of his pectoral and abdominal muscles. His face was incredibly handsome, by far the most handsome of any of the male tributes. Rich copper hair had been styled to frame his aristocratic features; a high bridged pointed nose, high cheekbones, sharp jawline and rich dark chocolate brown eyes that were intently focused on you.

“Speaking to other tributes before training is technically not allowed, but it’s enforced the same way as your training centers are, so not at all. You’ve got five minutes until those cars arrive to take you to the living quarters, go talk to the careers and work out an alliance,” You broke the eye contact to look at Finnick as he spoke, clearly having witnessed your little interaction.

Namjoon took the lead, confidently stepping off the carriage with a winning smile and striding towards the pair from two. With a sigh you hitched up the long material of your dress and followed behind him. You could still feel the male’s eyes burning into your skull as you looked across to notice the pair from District 1 also making their way over — their own mentor likely having given them the same advice as your own.

“I’m Namjoon and this is YN,” you weren’t particularly pleased by Namjoon deciding to speak on your behalf, but chose to roll your eyes behind him rather than interrupting. “We’re interested in continuing a long standing tradition of successful career pack alliances. I assume from you joining us over here, that you are as well.”

“I would typically say that to assume only makes an ‘ass’ out of ‘u’ and ‘me’, but in this instance you are correct,” the other male from District 1 spoke. You tried to stifle a laugh, but the warning glare Namjoon shot you from the corner of his eye told you that it wasn’t successful. You merely smiled back and blinked innocently with a shrug.

“My name’s Yoongi, and an alliance would be in all of our best interests.” He was shorter than Namjoon and District 2, only an inch or two taller than yourself, but somehow still just as intimidating. His pale skin was contrasted by pitch black hair and sharp coal like eyes that were openly assessing the group of you.

“Krystal,” his district mate offered by means of introduction, and you wondered if the two were siblings. She shared his light complexion, dark eyes and her sleek midnight hair was dead straight down past her waist. Both were dressed in black, their outfits embodying the luxury their district was known for; Yoongi in a tailored suit with subtle embroidery detail, Krystal in an elegant fitted gown made of the same fabric, both topped off with luxurious fur capes draped over their shoulders.

“I’m Athena and he’s Hoseok,” the girl from two spoke. She appeared to be the same height as Yoongi but you noticed a heel on her sandals giving her an extra few inches. You couldn’t bring yourself to look across to Hoseok, knowing his gaze still hadn’t broken since staring at you from the carriage.

“Is that real?” you asked, gesturing towards the dagger Athena had been playing with before that was now held limply in her right hand.

“Why don’t we find out,” she replied with a smirk, instantly flipping the dagger in her hands to point the tip between your eyes.

“Athena!” Hoseok hissed dangerously, slapping the dagger from her hands and cause it to fall onto the ground below. The lack of metallic ‘clang’ revealing it as fake.

“Calm down, it was a joke!” Athena snapped back, reaching down to pick it back up, whilst shaking her head in annoyance. Before you could assure her it was fine, Hoseok stepped forward to present you with his own version of the prop. Reaching out he grabbed your wrist to place the ‘dagger’ in your hand.

“See, the material is just a type of fiber that gives the illusion of metal, but is really not hard at all.” Gently he ran the blade along your palm, and true to his word there was no edge at all. But the image still looked real and seeing a blade dancing across your skin, knowing someone was going to try to kill you with a real one very soon, made you feel ill. Sensing your discomfort from the trembling hand, Hoseok immediately pocketed the knife, but still maintained his hold on your wrist.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you, angel,” he spoke softly and you frantically looked to the others to see if they could hear him. Namjoon who was the closest merely looked amused, Athena was showing Yoongi the fake dagger, whilst Krystal had her eyebrow raised in your direction.

“I hope not,” you awkwardly tried to joke, pulling your wrist slightly to subtly try and break the hold, but he only tightened his grip forcing you to look up and back into his eyes again. His gaze from a distance had already been intense but up close it was heart stopping. There was a passion in his eyes you had never seen before in your life and it was solely focused entirely on you. It was frightening, you couldn’t imagine what you had possibly done to warrant being on the receiving end of something so intense. You tilted your head down and away from the others, humiliated over being so easily intimidated. If an attractive man holding your wrist and making eye contact with you was all it took to fluster you, you may as well just sign your own death certificate now.

“Hey, look at me,” he whispered, dropping your wrist to place his finger on your chin and raise your head back upwards, though you kept your eyes lowered, staring at his jawline to avoid direct eye contact again.

“I’m promise I won’t hurt you, love. Not now, not ever.”

You were about to ask him how he could possibly say something like that given you were about to become direct competitors in a battle to the death, when a sharp whistle stole your attention. Snapping your head to the side you saw Finnick jerk his head, indicating for you and Namjoon to return. You exhaled in relief, grateful for the reprieve.

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Namjoon said to the group, moving next to you and causing Hoseok to pull his hand away. You nodded to show your agreement with Namjoon whilst making eye contact with the other three you barely had a chance to speak to. You hoped they didn’t think that you were somehow forming something just with Hoseok based on his actions. You were going to need all the help you possibly could get if you wanted a chance to survive.

“Tomorrow,” Krystal agreed, making proper eye contact with you for the first time. She was smaller in height than you, thinner too, but somehow carried a cold and intimidating aura. You offered her a polite smile in return and a nod, relieved when she nodded back, before you returned to Finnick with Namjoon.

“How did it go? Looked pretty good” Finnick asked just as the capitol vehicle pulled up to take you to the tribute quarters.

“It seems our little dove here won’t just have the capitol for an admirer,” Namjoon smirked, getting into the car.

“So I saw,” Finnick muttered as a reply to Namjoon’s back, then turned to face you.

“Don’t let him psych you out,” he said, stepping aside so you could follow Namjoon into the vehicle.

You glanced at Namjoon before turning back to see Hoseok standing by his car but staring directly at you again. His eyes were still radiating the same intense passion from moments ago, you had no idea what to make of it.

“Who?” you whispered back to Finnick, ducking your head as you stepped inside. Finnick moved to shut the door.

“Both of them”

This is basically an introductory chapter to gauge reception. Future updates should be longer. I have the whole fic plotted and the outline itself is 5.9K words and this chapter was only based on the first paragraph. The next update will focus on the training sessions/interview with Caesar and the update after should be the one where they actually enter the arena.

Feedback is much loved, but please avoid asking for updates. I don’t have a schedule but I do have crippling depression so I write when the motivation hits lol

[miscellaneous--bones]

gonna ramble about the ILSP redesign under the cut :) its just revamping some old worldbuilding stuff lol

so if u don't know what i've been talking abt the past while- which, fair, because i don't bring it up a whole lot- this is a kind of. headspace? thing? its all been a kind of. a representation of the world my ocs and fandoms and whatever else inhabit thats been in my head for as long as i can remember. a lot of it is based on stuff I've been making on/working on/has been around for years (read: pretty much my whole life) and it is deeply tied into my daydreaming, art, and just kind of who I am as a person.

for the longest time it was largley just this big white void with some floating doors, leading to different places (the portal room, the owl's domains, the lounge, etc etc.) that are usually either a certain thing in a smaller white void, like the Clock of Memories or the Tree of Life, or they're just another place, like Youth's Grove or the Lounge.

it was just called "ILSP" and was just. what i thought of when i thought of it. its been around sense most of my ocs were lps.

anyway, the new one is- I've mentioned it in my tags a couple times- but its a big forest based off the minecraft seed "taiga bay". the old place is mostly retired, and I and the ocs I've been posting about have moved to different places across the woods. a lot of my, subconscious? i guess? (idk, i didn't really plan most of it) filled out a bunch of smaller villages and even a big market and stuff.

because of that, there are some ocs that kind of. came w/ the environment? i guess? like Bailey or Maisie or whoever. fill-ins who got designs and connections to the Main Cast (i suppose is what you could call them? there isn't really a story here, just where me and my friends live haha)

the Tree of Life did move from it's previous anti-void to a clearing in the neighboring oak forest (where Naomi goes sometimes because oak forests do fall under her domain even tho she favors birch) and the Clock of Memories (which I havn't talked about yet, its based off a jewelry box my mom gave me and its hold the past present and future memories of everyone in ILSP, as well as a bunch of memorable objects from different fandoms and fics I've gotten into) anyway, The Clock as well as History and Sprocket have moved to somewhere in the forest too. those two really need a redesign actually, especialy History, her design has. not really aged very well. hm.

anyway, like i said, the old ocs still live in the old void that used to be ILSP, but some of the rooms that used to be there have moved, like the Tree and the Clock's rooms. the Lounge is still in the last place but it was more or less duplicated and put into the Big Tree House that the main cast use as a kind of. group house? like we all have individual places ofc, but we all have out own spots and stuff there too. uhhh. there are more, but i forgot what they are. damn. it'll come to me later.

seeing as we have like. an actual environment now, it opens the door to like. backstory stuff? i guess? and because of that I figured out a bit of backstory for Gordon! I don't think they're so much a god, as much as they are like. a spirit? or something like that. they crawled out of one of the rivers going through the woods and Delphi found them wandering around near a cave or something a while later w/ no memory. so probably like, some kinda spirit or something that had just waken up lol

uhhhh anyway! i think i'm done for now. I'll add some more if i get any more ideas, but my brain has been rung dry at the moment. hope all this is comprehensible, feel free to ask questions abt whatever if u have any :)

[recklessrex]

216 - Macavity & Chaos Twins

First of all trigger warning: violence, abuse, injury, blood, child abuse

This story involves descriptions and discussions of violence. I wouldn't call it super graphic, but it's enough for me to caution those with triggers. Blood and injuries are mentioned, but not in detail. An adult causes mild physical injury to a minor. If any of these things are potential triggers for you, you may want to skip this one.

Sorry it's quite a bit longer than I'd intended. I'd put it under a cut but I'm stuck using mobile and it won't let me. Just rapid scroll if you'd like to skip.

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Okay so if you're still reading

This takes place some years before the current timeline, when Mungo and Teazer are in their early to mid teens. Bomba is in her early 20s, Demeter hasn't met her or Macavity yet (which is why she doesn't appear in this story), and my OC, Sullivan, has known him for about 5 or so years.

(Note: "mot" = "adult or teenage woman" A word I first saw in a fantasy novel, I use it where many other Cats writers might use the word "queen." Just a personal preference of mine. I find it less awkward, plus I think it's neat that it's "tom" backwards)

Beware: Long Fic

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“You know how you can smack something to get it to work? I wish I can do that to people.”

Macavity eyed the two kits chattering away before him as he lounged in his favorite chair. He wasn't sure what to make of them, or their little presentation. He was torn between annoyance and amusement.

They were certainly bold, he had to give them that. They couldn't have been more than 15 or so, the girl perhaps even a bit younger. Two nameless, no-account brats with, as far as Mac could tell, no existing connection to his gang whatsoever.

Yet here they were, stood fearlessly in the middle of his lounge, explaining to the most feared gang leader in the Junkyard how they wanted in on a heist they had no business even knowing about. Mac was sorely tempted to be impressed just by the sheer figurative balls of these two, but he'd wait and see how this went.

At Mac's side, seated on the ottoman that went with his chair, his chief "henchrat," Sullivan, grimaced under his elaborate Rat-mask. Sully had little patience for these young intruders or their antics. He just wanted the little punks gone, so they could get back to business. But Mac had so far said nothing, and so Sullivan would say nothing. As long as Mac wanted to hear them out, they could speak. But they'd better hurry it up…

Several other Cats in the gang, mostly in Rat-masks like Sullivan's, were scattered around the room, some seated around a table covered in maps and other papers, others stood against the walls or lounging in other pieces of furniture strewn about the room. Some listened to the intruders' speech with mild interest, some glared, others quietly mocked or rolled their eyes at the duo, or muttered to each other. All kept an eye on Macavity, and on Sullivan. If their boss and their captain were fine with these two idiots trespassing on their turf for now, then the rest of the gang was fine with it too. But the moment either on them gave the signal, the little brats would be outta there, and probably more than a little worse for the wear.

A large Rat-masked Cat called "Hoover" leaned his back against the door with his arms crossed. He glowered menacingly at the talkative teens' backs. He wasn't sure how they got in, but if the nosy punks tried to escape while the boss still wanted them here, they weren't getting out through Hoover.

A Cat that was not in a Rat-mask leaned against the back of Mac's chair on the opposite side of Sullivan, occasionally reaching down to stroke the fur of his head, chest, or shoulders. She was the newest mot in the gang, a tall curvy young bombshell with the boldest, most beautiful red fur Mac had ever seen. Her name was Bombalurina, but Sullivan called her "Bombalicious." Mac called her what most people called her: "Bomba."

Bomba wasn't sure where she'd seen the girl of the pair before, but she was quite certain she had. She watched the girl with keen interest, but tried to keep her expression something close to boredom. She didn't want to arouse anyone's suspicions til she was sure what she was dealing with.

Normally only "the rats" and a few other people relevant to a particular job were allowed in the lounge while plans were going on, but Mac… sort of knew Bomba… sort of. He remembered her from when they were kits, though they never interacted much since he was 8 years older than her, but she used to play with his kit brother sometimes. Even though his brother had been a couple years younger than her, she still let him hang out with her and her friends, and Mac had once caught her scolding some girls more her age for picking on the younger boy.

Mac remembered Bomba's kindness to his baby brother, and found himself trusting her, despite the insistence from at least one of the other mots and a few of the rats that she must be a spy. As far as he knew, Bomba had not been living with the Jellicles for at least a couple years now. He wondered if she even remembered him from her youth.

When she'd first arrived, he'd asked Sullivan what he thought. His short, stout friend had shrugged and said he'd keep an eye on her, but that she didn't come across to him as having an agenda. Mac trusted Sully's opinion.

"And that's why we like to respectfully ask you to include our services in your upcoming endeavors," concluded the boy, using words Mac would never have guess were in his vocabulary. He hadn't seemed like the brightest bulb. Neither of them had, but the boy especially gave off major airhead vibes. Macavity raised an eyebrow, maybe there was more to them then he'd realized.

Then again, maybe the dumb kit had just memorized the line.

"And what exactly do I get out of this?" he drawled in his deep, silky, menacing voice.

"Uhhh…" said the boy, looking worried for the first time, though Mac wasn't sure if it was because of the question or just Mac's tone.

"You've told me why you want in, but why should I want you in?" Mac elaborated. He was starting to lose his patience. Surely some advantage to the gang had been part of their plan? Surely they hadn't taken such a huge risk by invading his heist meeting just to tell him why they feel they have a right to take part? Surely they didn't think he gave a shit about where some no-account kitten gang had drawn their turf line against other no-account kitten gangs? Surely they weren't that stupid?

"Right," started the boy, "well you see, uh…"

"You see," the girl took over, indicating herself and her companion with a couple jerks of her thumb, "we're a notorious couple of cats!" The boy, recovered from his brief bout of nerves, nodded sagely.

"Yeah, that's right!" he piped proudly. "Notorious!"

Mac raised an eyebrow and looked down at Sully. His loyal friend looked up at him. Mac couldn't really see Sully's eyebrows through the mask, but he knew Sully was as amused as he was. Or, well, maybe "amused" wasn't the right word…

"You, uh.." Sully said to the pair, fighting back a dry chuckle that wanted to rise from the back of his throat, "you do know what 'notorious' means, right?"

"Uhhh…" the teens chorused, looking at each other.

"Well known," explained Sullivan, not waiting for them to come up with an answer. "Famous. Renowned in dis-reputation."

"Oh yea we know that," claimed the boy, nodding.

"Yeah!" echoed the girl.

"Really?" asked Sullivan flatly, crossing his arms over his husky chest.

"Oh yeah! Sure we do!" exclaimed the girl.

"Pfft of course," said the boy, posing arrogantly.

"Pfft," echoed the girl, making a show of rolling her eyes.

"Then why have I never heard of you?" Mac asked slowly, dropping an extra degree of ice and menace into the words. He liked watching them squirm. At his side, Sullivan smirked.

"Well uh.." stammered the boy, "erm…"

"Ahh well, uh, you see, uh…" tried the girl.

Macavity grinned wickedly, allowing the expression to serve as an implied threat. The pair squirmed more. The boy gaped, wide-eyed, at the crime boss. He tried to speak, but couldn't make a sound. He looked rather entertainingly like a fish, repeatedly opening his mouth to start speaking and then closing it again. The girl, meanwhile, blinked, shook her head, and cleared her throat.

"Ahem, well, I suppose we aren't notorious enough to reach the ears of such an illustrious Cat as yourself," she said, trying some flattery, "but we're a damn good team."

The boy snapped out of his fish-trance to nod proudly and seriously.

"We can do all manner of things for ya!" he announced.

"Like what?" Mac asked. He was getting bored.

"Like everything!" the boy boasted.

"We're the sneakiest sneak thieves," the girl elaborated.

"And burglars!" added the boy, who obviously couldn't be prouder of this fact.

"And acrobats!" the girl practically sang. She did a cartwheel as demonstration. Mac wasn't sure how she thought cartwheels would be of service to him, but at least he was slightly less bored.

"And Teazer 'ere can pick a lock like nobody's business!" The boy jerked a thumb at his companion.

"And Mungo can creep quieter than a Mouse!" added the girl, who was apparently called Teazer. "And so can I o' course, Mungo's just even quieter."

Bomba's ears had perked up at the name Teazer. Hadn't she known someone named Teazer as a kit? She was more sure than ever that she knew this rambunctious girl, but she couldn't place where…

"And we're tougher than we look," continued the boy, apparently called Mungo.

"Yeah, especially together," Teazer agreed, puffing herself up to try and look intimidating. It wasn't very effective. "Nobody crosses us."

"Yeah nobody," echoed Mungo. They seemed to echo each other a lot.

When they were finished, Macavity sat silent, regarding them. Sullivan watched his boss and waited. The gang watched Macavity, and Sullivan, and waited.

Bomba watched the duo as they resisted the urge to start squirming again under the silence. She vaguely remembered a much younger kit in her tribe, at least 6 or 7 years younger, that was called "Teazer." But that kit had been a boy. It must have been a different Teazer. She remembered it had been short for something…

Finally, after a full minute of silence, Macavity spoke.

"I have many other Cat's that can do all of these things." he said slowly. "What makes you special?"

"Can any of em do it all at once?" Teazer retorted immediately. Mungo looked worried though, glancing around the room at all the masked criminals that were surrounding him as though seeing them for the first time.

"Probably," answered Mac. It was a lie, but he suspected the kits were exaggerating too, and besides, he wanted to see how they reacted. "What else ya got?"

The girl hesitated, but didn't squirm. Her eyes darted to her sides, and Mac knew she was resisting the urge to glance nervously around the room like her friend. The boy pulled his attention away from the sneering, glaring thugs and addressed Macavity again.

"Look you need us," he said plainly.

"Yes, so you say," Mac drawled, "but why?"

No answer. The kits exchanged glances.

"You've yet to explain this to me." Mac layed the ice on thick, but the kits didn't squirm.

"Well?" demanded Sullivan. "You heard him! Either come up with a decent answer, or get lost! Quit wasting our time!"

"We can go anywhere," Teazer said suddenly, her voice calm and confident. The boy nodded quietly at her side. "We can get into anywhere," she went on, "and I do mean anywhere."

"Don't matter where," Mungo continued, his voice as calm and serious as his friend's. "Don't matter the security. If we want in, we find a way in. No one and nothin' can stop us."

They were both suddenly in serious business mode. No squirming, no nerves, no arrogant posturing, no showing off or silly antics, just two very serious kits, staring him dead in the eye, perfectly calm. Macavity suspected this was more than a boast, and it would make them quite valuable if it were true. But he was no fool. He would make them prove it.

"And you expect me to believe that?" he drawled.

"We got in 'ere, didn't we?" Teazer said, still calmly, but with a touch of teenage attitude, staring at him sassily as if challenging him to argue. Mungo raised an eyebrow and smirked, but said nothing. Neither of them broke eye contact.

Sullivan looked up at Mac. He waited. The gang waited. Bomba waited. The kits waited. Seconds ticked by. Sullivan, and only Sullivan, saw the smirk fighting to take form on his friend's face.

Finally Macavity, the most feared gang leader in the Junkyard, chuckled a low chuckle that rose into full hearty laughter. Sullivan joined him, chuckling his own nasally chuckle, then wheezing in laughter. They were finished before the rest of the gang were recovered enough from the shock and surprise to join in. Most of them didn't get the joke anyway, didn't understand what was so amusing about these punks to their fearsome boss and his fearless second-in-command.

"You're in," Macavity told the kits, who had started to squirm slightly again when he'd started laughing. He couldn't fault them that, he had a very intimidating laugh, even when it was genuine.

Now they grinned wide, and launched into speeches of gratitude, promising he wouldn't regret it and so on and so forth. The much of rest of the gang murmured to each other, unsure of how they felt about this new addition, except Hoover, who stood silently by the door, and Bomba, who was still contemplating where she'd seen this kit before, and of course Sullivan, who wrinkled his nose at the talkative little brats but said nothing, waiting for his boss.

Mac said no more, but waved a signal to Sullivan. No one else looking would have known what the signal meant, but he knew it was his cue to take back control of the room.

"Shut up!" said Sully, standing up and stepping forward. Everyone shut up. Mac's chief henchrat may have been the shortest guy in the room, but his bulk, his mask, and his crisp, commanding voice made up for what his height lacked in intimidation. He pointed a clawed finger at the two grinning kits.

"You're in, but you ain't big fish yet. You're at the bottom of the tank, eating algae off the dirt and gravel. That's your place. Don't forget it." He paused for a second to let that sink in. They nodded their understanding.

"Now sit down and shut up!" Sullivan finished, "You've wasted enough of our time."

"Do we get a cool mask like yours?" one of them asked as Sullivan returned to his seat.

"No! Sit down!" he shouted, gesturing angrily at them with one meaty arm. Mac chuckled at his irritated friend and rested a hand on his shoulder.

Still grinning, the kits tried to find seats on the nearby sofa but found it was suddenly full, the thugs that were seated in it stretching out and spreading their legs until there was no room. Looking around they saw similar things happening around the room. Single, unoccupied chairs were now taken up by people that had previously been standing. Only Hoover remained standing, still guarding the door. The runts were no skin off his nose. As long as they stayed out of his way.

Undaunted by the lack of seats, the duo found a spot close to the table where they would be unlikely to be stepped on and obediently sat down on the floor. They smiled up at Sullivan, who nodded his approval. At least they could follow instruction.

Meanwhile Bomba was too distracted trying to remember where she knew Teazer from to sit down at first, though she did plant her rear on the arm of the Mac's chair when he gave her thigh an encouraging tug. The brat couldn't be the little boy named Teazer from her old tribe, unless… nah she would have needed surgery, and she looked way too young for that. How would she even afford it? No it couldn't be. Bomba gave up, crossed her legs, and leaned against Mac, wrapping her arms around his maned head and running a hand along his collar bones.

The gang didn't settle so easily. A few of the higher players tried to stay focused on their planning, but the majority the gang (minus the somber Hoover, the now contented Bomba, and the annoyed but faithful Sullivan) gradually broke back into murmurs amongst each other. They apparently had already forgotten their captain's anger, or had mistaken it as being for the new brats only. The brats in question, meanwhile, weren't paying attention at all, not that there was much to pay attention to with the state the room was in. They were playing some kind of game where they pretended to slap each other's hands, but didn't make any noise.

Sully itched to get them all back on track, but, as always, he stoically waited for Mac. Sometimes his boss liked letting a room run out of control. He found it entertaining, in certain mood. But a glance up at his old friend told him he was not amused. Even sat in the loving arms of the hottest mot in the gang, he had clearly fallen into a considerably bad mood. Ignoring Bomba completely, he glowered darkly at his very, very distracted gang. But still he said nothing, made no signal.

Sully hesitated, then laid a comforting hand on his friend's knee. Mac looked down at him, his face unreadable, then looked back out at the room again. Sully followed his gaze, keeping his hand on his knee. He waited.

Finally Mac sighed. He lifted arm to rest his elbow on the arm of the chair not occupied by Bomba's very fine rear end, and let his head rest against his fist. His glower softened.

“You know how you can smack something to get it to work?" he said.

"Yeah?"

"I wish I could do that with people.”

When Sully didn't reply, Mac looked down to see his loyal masked confidant staring up at him. Half his expression was obscured by the Rat-mask, but Mac could see the straight, seemingly unamused line his mouth was making, as well as the tiny almost undetectable little twitch in one corner of his mouth.

"What?" he asked, fighting a smirk of his own.

"Boss," Sullivan said flatly.

"What?"

"Boss."

"What?!" Mac couldn't hold this in much longer.

"You do that all the time!"

Mac threw back his head and howled with laughter, and Sullivan doubled over laughing as well. Neither quite knew what it was about this they found funny, but they couldn't help it. They laughed together, Sully wheezing and snickering alongside Mac's deep rolling chuckle. The rest of the gang fell silent, then some of them nervously tried to chuckle along to a joke they didn't understand.

"Shut up!" Mac roared and jumped to his feet, nearly knocking poor Bomba off the arm of the chair. Sullivan swallowed his laughter, put on his best stony face, and stood just behind Mac at his right side. His place.

Everyone stared at Mac, who glared and showed his teeth, a growl rumbling deep in his throat. His hackles were raised, making his red mane stand up like a fiery halo around his head. Suddenly he swung his right arm out in a wide arc, over an unflinching Sullivan's head, to strike the face of an unmasked Cat at the table with the back off his hand. The Cat, a safecracker they were outsourcing for this gig, tumbled backwards off the bench. Bomba, new enough to be shocked and surprised at this outburst, got up from the chair and quickly put it between her and Macavity.

The furious ginger tom then charged to the other side of the table, where the masked Cats that sat there and nearby shrank away, putting their hands up defensively and shaking their heads to ask for mercy. Finding their body language suitably submissive, Mac turned away from the table to take in the rest of the room. Near his feet were the new brats, staring at the floor and trying to make themselves as small as possible. They had shifted a bit away from the table, and the boy, Mungo, had placed himself between Teazer and Macavity. He briefly glanced up at Macavity, then snapped his eyes back to the floor.

On the sofa across the room two masked thugs looked at each other, then back at Macavity with frowns and narrowed eyes.

That would not do.

Macavity snarled and swiftly crossed the room to the sofa, giving Mungo a sharp kick in the stomach along the way. He took his claws out and swatted one thug across the mouth, where his mask didn't protect him, and with the claws of his other hand, slashed the other thug from shoulder to sternum. Both cried out. Mac let out a bellowing growl to silence them. The thugs cowered, whimpering and holding their wounds. A third thug seated on the sofa turned his head away and lowered his gaze to the floor. Suitably submissive.

At the door, Hoover was watching this unfold, seemingly unbothered, staring unblinkingly from beneath his mask. Macavity turned and spotted him, and in three steps he was upon him. He grabbed the much larger tom by the side of the neck, using just enough claw make it smart, and dragged his head down level with his own, snarling and baring his clenched teeth.

"Sssitt" ordered Macavity in a low, soft voice that promised pain it if not heeded.

Hoover obediently lowered to the floor. Sitting crosslegged with his back against the door, he broke eye contact by turning his head slightly and staring at his boss's left knee. Suitably submissive. Macavity let Hoover go.

Sullivan had watched it all impassively, but when Mac had gone after Hoover, who was never a problem, he had shifted slightly on his feet, fighting his discomfort.

It's good for show, he told himself. Biggest tom in the room. Reinforces his dominance with the whole gang. He knows Hoover would submit easily. The others don't necessarily know that. It's good for show.

He allowed himself a tiny sigh of relief when his boss had let the big tom go. If Mac had held on to him for much longer he would have had to try to gently remind him to chill the fuck out, without undermining his authority.

Unfortunately, Macavity had turned around in time, and was familiar enough with his chief henchrat's body language, to see his reaction. He growled and glowered and bared his teeth. Sully didn't flinch, but sent a pleading message with his eyes.

Easy, boss. It's enough. Please calm down.

Only Mac was looking at Sully. Only Mac saw the troubled, almost sad look in his eyes. Neither of them were telepaths, and so Mac couldn't know exactly what Sully was trying to tell him, but he knew that look. It was the look Sully always wore when Mac's temper flared hotter than was safe for either of them. It was a look that Mac associated with a calm, comforting voice.

"It's okay," his friend would tell him, "it's alright. Take it easy, you're alright."

Though Sully was silent now, Mac could hear those soft, soothing words in the back of his mind when he looked in his friend's eyes.

It was a look Mac associated with the gentle weight of an understanding hand on his shoulder, or his arm, or his knee. It was a look that made him feel strange, unfamiliar, but not unpleasant things. It was a look that awakened a protective instinct in him, though he was only mildly aware that it was himself he was protecting his best friend from.

It was a look that calmed Macavity's heart.

It was not a look of fear, nor was it truly one of submission.

But it was suitably submissive. For his purposes. He told himself that as his glower softened, his lips curled back down to cover his teeth, and his bristling mane smoothed back into it's normal wild shaggy state.

In truth it wasn't submissive at all. Macavity had been soothed. With one gentle look, the most feared gang leader in the Junkyard had been subdued.

The whole exchange, from growling at Sully to silent plea to dampening fury, had taken no more than five seconds. No one else in the gang had noticed. They were too busy not making eye contact. Mungo was doubled over on the floor, holding his stomach and trying not to make noise, while Teazer knelt beside him, her arms wrapped around his shoulders protectively, her head layed against his back. Only Sullivan was looking at Mac, and no one was looking at Sullivan.

Except Bomba. She was watching anxiously from behind Mac's chair. She had seen her new lover lock eyes with the obnoxious little fatass that was in charge of the rat squad. Had seen his rage melt away like nothing. Now she looked from Sullivan to Macavity and back again, trying to make sense of what she'd just witnessed.

Macavity sneered his annoyance at her, but did not bare his teeth. She offered him a small nervous smile, just trying to stay on his good side. He did not return it. His temper was under control, but his mood had not improved. He stalked silently back to his chair, giving Sullivan the tiniest of nods on his way. Sullivan knew his cue.

"Alright listen up!" shouted the rat captain, looking around the room at the nervous eyes that looked up at him. "No more chit-chat! No more bullshit! Let's get back to business!"

Sullivan didn't look at Macavity as he passed him, and Macavity didn't look at him either. He silently glided by and flopped hard into his chair. Bomba, to her credit, didn't flinch or back away at his approach, but she didn't come around to sit on the arm again. Nor did he encourage her to. Instead, she leaned one arm against the back of the chair with as much an air of nonchalance as she could muster.

A minute ago, literally one minute, he would have been annoyed and probably offended at her behavior, but in this moment he admired and respected her for it. Macavity's thoughts tended to run like that, all over the place. Increasingly so, these days.

Despite Sullivan's firm orders, it was only when the boss was seated again that the room cautiously started reorganizing itself. The safecracker was helped to his feet by a masked Cat, and returned to his place on the bench. Teazer quietly helped Mungo sit up and the two sat in silence as other Cats nearby returned to the table and started ruffling through papers. Hoover, already where he was supposed to be, didn't move.

"You two," Sullivan pointed a claw at the two bleeding thugs on the sofa, "get yourselves cleaned up, you're bleeding all over the upholstery!"

They didn't need to be told twice. They scrambled from the sofa and made for the door, finding it blocked by Hoover.

"Let 'em out." ordered Sullivan.

Hoover stood, opened the door, and slammed it closed again after they had exited, nearly catching one of them by the tail. Then he crossed his arms and leaned against the door once more. Macavity glared a warning from his chair, and Hoover silently slid his back down the door until he was again seated crosslegged on the floor.

"Everyone else, get focused!" Sullivan continued. "And stay focused! No more games! We have work to do!"

Sullivan looked around the room, and, satisfied they all would behave themselves for now, returned to his own seat at his boss's side. From his chair, Mac quietly and gently reached out to stroke the short, sweaty, taupe-grey fur on the back of Sully's neck with his fingers. Sully's shoulders relaxed. He leaned into the touch.

"There's other ways to get shit to work you know," he muttered softly. Mac took his hand away. Sully looked up at him.

"And smacking it might not do anything but break it."

Mac said nothing. His attention seemed to be on the Cats at the table, who were discussing a blueprint. Sully sighed and patted Mac's arm, which was now resting on the arm of the chair.

"But you do you, boss..."

"Hnm," grunted Mac.

"… just…"

Mac's head didn't move, but his eyes flicked down to regard his loyal companion, his expression blank, silently granting him permission to say whatever he was hesitating to say.

It's okay, Mac tried to tell him with his eyes, I won't get mad.

But still Sully hesitated, finally he sighed again and said "We can talk about this later."

Sully had wanted to tell his boss that he thought he should reign it back a bit, for his own good as well as the good of the gang. But this wasn't the time or the place. Anything that could be taken as arguing with him, including questioning his methods, should be done in private. Undermining him in front of everyone, right after they had just gotten the room under control again, was a very bad idea. He didn't know how Mac would respond to it, but more importantly, he did know how the gang would take it, and Sully reckoned it wouldn't go well in the long run. Just not a good idea.

So he waved it off until later, when they could talk in private. He patted Mac's wrist again, letting his hand rest there a moment before taking it away, and turned his attention back to the discussion over the blueprint.

Bomba, the only Cat within earshot of their conversation, watched the two is them with interest. She had no idea what to make of these two, or their strange relationship.

Well, she thought, at least the tall one's hot.

From the door, Hoover had seen the quick gentle touches between the boss and the captain. He paid it no mind. He knew the two were close, that it wasn't like that, and that it wouldn't matter even if it was. He also knew better than to assume a little bit of sentiment (or even intimacy) made either of them weaker somehow.

And it wasn't any of his business anyway.

On the floor near the table, Mungo and Teazer tried to focus on the discussion, but it was difficult seeing how they couldn't really see the papers being discussed. Not to mention Mungo's very sore abdomen, and the fact that they suddenly had a lot to think about. They each wondered to themselves, had they gotten in over their heads?

Sullivan listened to gang discuss routes and patrols, the safecracker piping with helpful information such as how much time he'd need and so on. Tension had crept back up into Sully's back and shoulders. He didn't like jobs like this. He didn't like outsourcing. He didn't like new faces. And he especially didn't like when his boss was in a mood. He knew (or rather he hoped) Mac would never hurt him, not even in a mood like this. But it wasn't all about his own personal safety. He just didn't like his friend's dark moods. Not one bit.

Brooding, frowning, jaw clenched, sweating under his stupid mask, and trying his hardest to stay focused (set a good example, dammit, he thought to himself) Sullivan leaned against Mac's chair. He felt Mac's fingers lightly stroke the back of his neck yet again. They lingered there, just for a moment, just enough to relieve some of his tension, then returned to the arm of the chair.

Sully shifted so that his elbow brushed his friend's leg, letting it rest there a moment, as a return gesture of affection. Then both returned their attention to the business at hand, both in an ever-so-slightly better mood.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Pick Up and Put Down

Summary: It’s another day at the Embassy. Edge is accustomed to getting texts from a number of people but not quite like this.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Flirting, Undertale Monsters on the Surface, Prejudice Against Monsters, Threats of Violence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort

Warning: This chapter has a reference to suicide. It is NOT, I repeat, NOT any character from any Undertale universe. It is also NOT any of my OC’s that you may have grown to know and love. No one that has made an appearance anywhere before, okay? That said, if you find a reference to suicide triggering or upsetting, skip this one.

part of the ‘by any other name’ 

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

The first text came only a few minutes after Edge arrived at work. He parked in the secure lot, walking through the side gate that led to the main entrance without taking him past the protestors. Distantly, he heard the rising shouts as they caught sight of him and if he bothered to glance in their direction, he would see them waving their signs. For Humans who claimed they were concerned for the safety of their children, they didn’t seem particularly worried about them seeing their hate-filled rhetoric and vulgar demands. Edge ignored them. He was too far away to even make out what they were shouting, much less for them to harm him even if they could, and he doubted they would make an attempt. Janice had been an easy target for their hatred and as much as he knew it would only make things worse in the long run, something ruthless at his core wished they would try him. It wouldn’t teach them anything about love, but the part of him that would never leave Underfell behind thought they could use a lesson about LV. The chime of his phone distracted him from those thoughts and Edge paused in the lobby to check it. if you were a juice, you’d be fineapple Unwillingly, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. A little charming ridiculousness from Stretch was more than welcome this morning and instead of answering, Edge only noted that the message had been read. Partly because he had no affection for emoticons and partly because Stretch would be aggravated by it. An aggravated Stretch was by far the most entertaining and it was going to be a long day. He could use the promise of playful harassment. With a short nod to the security guard, Edge scanned his ID badge and made his way to the third floor. Janice was already at her desk, typing furiously when he walked in. “Good morning,” she said briskly, barely glancing up from the screen. “You have a meeting in an hour, I left the informational packet on your desk.” “Thank you,” Edge told her crisply. He left her to her work and went on to his office to prepare. Before the door was even closed, his phone chimed again. are you a banana? because i find you ap-peeling With a head shake, Edge put his phone back in his pocket and hung up his coat. Next to the folder there was already a cup of coffee waiting, steam wafting gently. That was the benefit of always being prompt, it gave his assistant the foresight of knowing when to get coffee. Two pages into the report, he was a hell of a lot more grateful for the coffee. This meeting was going to be thrilling, he could already tell. An hour and a half later, Edge was damning himself for being proven right, listening to the presenter droning away. Even Papyrus, who was sitting on the other side of the table with the other diplomats, had to jerk his head up when it started to bob drowsily. Edge was thinking idly of sending for a pot of coffee for the room when his phone buzzed. He never turned it off anymore, not after the attack on New New Home, and no one gave him so much as a glance as he discreetly checked the message. i know you’re busy today, but can you add me to your to-do list? This time, his smile almost broke free. It was an effort to school his expression to attentiveness, staring at the PowerPoint with polite interest. Another half hour dragged by, but his phone stayed unfortunately silent, and in the end, a round of coffee was brought for everyone. It almost helped. It wasn’t until he was back at his desk, his lunch set out so that he could eat while he worked, that his phone chimed again. He took a bite of his Greek couscous salad before he looked at the text, savoring the rich flavors. Absently, he wondered what Stretch was having for lunch; there were plenty of options in the refrigerator to choose from, even if he usually preferred simpler, often greasier, fare. baby if you were words on a page, you’d be what they call fine print His smile was reluctant, but it was there even after he finished eating. Throughout the day, the texts came. While he was talking to Antwan about an upcoming court case regarding Monsters rights in private businesses— are you an astronomer? because i want you to study this heavenly body When he got a cup of coffee from the lounge to help him get through the afternoon, already thinking longing thoughts towards the Beanery’s reopening and being able to get his preferred coffee beans again— if you were a chicken, you’d be im-peck-able And during his brief meeting with Asgore to discuss the construction of a new Embassy that was being planned in California and housing requirements for the Monsters who were in need of warmer climes. if nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing? It was close to the time he normally left that his phone finally rang, and Edge answered it, already anticipating a flood of puns and ridiculous lines to carry him home. “babe?” Stretch said and Edge stiffened instantly at the shakiness in that single word. “What’s wrong?” he asked sharply. There was a quavering breath on the other end of the line, and Stretch asked, “have you seen the news at all?” “No, I’ve been in my office. Hold on.” He started pulling up the local news on his laptop, but Stretch hadn’t stopped, his voice low and trembling, “they caught him. i mean, they didn’t really catch him, they found him.” “Found who?” Edge was scrolling, scanning the webpage, trying to find what had him so upset. He saw it at the same moment Stretch blurted out, “the guy! the guy who burned down the beanery. it…it’s the same guy from the bus. the one who…who attacked me.” It was. Edge recognized him from police report, the court documents, and the one time he’d seen him in person. There was nothing remarkable about him, only a middle-aged Human, and Edge couldn’t see into the souls of others, couldn’t see their sins. This Human kept his hatred hidden beneath a veneer of civility, invisible at a glance to most. It didn’t matter, Edge could sense his LV even without a Check. This man had hurt plenty of others before Monsters had even stepped from beneath the mountain. He remembered seeing this Human in court when Antwan was defending Jeff after the attack on the bus. He’d been there as the injured party, claiming he’d been the one attacked. Edge had no doubt that was exactly what he believed. To him, Monsters had attacked simply by existing and Stretch being in his space was nothing short of an assault. He usually enjoyed watching Antwan in a courtroom as he calmly and ruthlessly disassembled the arguments of the other side. Edge hadn’t stayed that day, wanting to be as far from that Human as possible. For the Human’s protection, not his own. The mental picture of him trying to strike Stretch for the simple act of being made his own LV stir in uncomfortable ways. And now according to the news article, he was dead. “the police aren’t saying much yet,” Stretch rushed out, something close to panic lacing his words. “but...but…there’s plenty of rumors online. so far they’re saying it looks like a suicide. edge, they’re saying he had a plan to plant a bomb in the embassy, they—" “Shh, calm down,” Edge soothed, reading with narrowed eyes, even as he typed a quick message to the Intel team. He wanted information about this, and he wanted it now. Stretch’s breathing was too quick, his voice thick and hoarse, and more than a little unsteadily . “i know you guys have great security and everything, i mean, your brother is usually on this shit. Fuck, i’m surprised he wasn’t already.” A trickle of coldness ran down Edge’s spine at the mention of his brother, like tiny icicles prickling up his vertebra. “Suicide…” Edge murmured, reading through the news article avidly. It wasn’t possible that the police had released this much information so quickly, Intel would need to see if they could root out their source. “yeah,” Stretch swallowed hard enough that Edge heard the dry click through the line. “i guess his landlady found him, said he hung himself. left a note and everything.” Edge was sure that he had, and a detailed one at that. “he had a bunch of anti-monster stuff, they found his plans for the arson at the beanery. and his note mentioned the embassy, but…but…why would he kill himself before he did it, that doesn’t make sense, does it? i mean, i haven’t seen the note but, babe, what if he tried something, what if there is something there, what if—" “He couldn’t have gotten onto the grounds without being detected,” Edge reminded him, still reading. “We’ve got plenty of magic and technology preventing it.” Stretch exhaled rattlingly loud. “yeah. yeah, i know, i get it, i was just worried, you know? this is all so much happening, and it had to be this guy, didn’t it, why the fuck couldn’t he just leave us alone, we never did anything to him and—” his voice broke, faltering. That attack on the bus had shaken Stretch badly at the time and now he was trapped reliving it, only to discover the perpetrator had stolen more from him than he could have possibly guessed. “I’m coming home,” Edge told him abruptly. Listening to this, knowing Stretch was dealing with it alone, was growing too painful; he could work from home if needs be. “what? no, i’m okay.” To his relief, Stretch calmed a little at that, breathing deeply. “andy is on his way over, he’s kind of shaken, too. he knew the guy from court and he ain’t crying over him, but it’s still fucked up, yeah? stay there, you’ve probably got a ton of things to do now that this shitshow is starting up.” He did, he would, but leaving Stretch to deal with this on his own, even with Jeff at his side, did not sit well. “Are you sure?” “yeah, yeah, we’ll watch some movies or something, spend the night chilling out. babe? be careful, okay? just…be careful.” “I promise,” Edge said softly. A message was beeping through on his phone, but Edge ignored it for a moment. “holding you to that. i love you.” “I love you, too.” He hung up and sat back in his chair, pressing the hard case of the phone against his forehead for a long moment. Then he looked at the message. It was from Red and Edge felt his soul pulse once, one white-hot flareup of LV, as he read it. why did the man trapped in the burning house start swinging a baseball bat? because three strikes and you’re out. For one brief second everything was too hot, his vision wavering. Then Edge let out a long, slow breath, flexing his hands as he took back control. First, he deleted his brother’s text. Their cell phones ran through Monster servers and until Humans had access to magic, they were unhackable by any of their means. It was nothing more than a ridiculous joke, no reason to keep it and that was exactly what he would say if he were asked. He wouldn’t be, the chances were infinitesimal, but Edge preferred to be prepared for anything, including near impossibilities. That done, Edge silently opened one of his file cabinets and took out a thick folder, filled with reports. They were all written by his brother in a language that very few Monsters could read. He honestly wasn’t sure if Stretch was one of them. There was nothing truly incriminating in them. Edge had read them all and while they stated some of Red’s suspicions, he hadn’t been able to prove anything concrete, certainly not enough to take to the fickle Ebott police. He pushed them through the shredder, anyway, meticulously. Five sheets at a time and watched as the cross blades turn them into confetti. Chances were that no one would ask him any awkward questions. But if they did, Edge could in all honesty say he didn’t know anything. This was nothing more than plausible deniability coupled with healthy caution and it was nothing but the truth that Edge didn’t know anything. He could look his husband in the face and repeat that truth. He could. There were lines he wouldn’t, couldn’t cross, not even for his brother. When he was finished, Edge went back to his desk and got to work. He was going to be here very late, messages were already pouring in and he could hear Janice’s phone continually ringing. There would need to be press releases and statements despite the fact that Monsters had not been involved. It would be officially ruled suicide eventually, Edge had no doubt. The Security team would need to assess the threat as well; as confident as he was in their security measures, arrogance was a quick path to catastrophe. Before he could begin opening the multiple messages and emails that were pouring in, Edge caught sight of the darkened screen on his phone and hesitated. He picked it up, his fingers resting briefly on the screen, and then quickly he typed a message. How can other people love when I'm using the world's supply on you? He pressed send quickly before he could second guess and set his phone aside. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw a flurry of emoticons explode across the screen , an eye-searing expression of delight and affection. Stretch was all right, Jeff would be there soon. He wasn’t alone and he was safe in their home, and when Edge finally returned, he would be able to kiss him, hold him, with nothing between them. He could. The ring on his third finger was a comforting weight as Edge got to work.

-finis-

[jjk-emotrash]

Blood and Gasoline - Chapter 5

Type: Mafia!AU

Group/s: Mainly BTS, Got7, Blackpink

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (OC), Jikook x Reader (OC)

Safety: NSFW

Warnings (Whole Fic): Swearing, Violence, Prostitution, Misogyny/Anti-Feminist Views, Torture, Smut, Non-Con/Rape, Death, SOME Fluff

Word Count: 4.4k

Masterlist

Y/N spent the majority of the day with Lisa, whom she had grown quite close to during the short time they had known each other. They were close in age and had a similar sense of humour so were naturally comfortable around each other. The pair hid away in Y/N’s bedroom, save for lunch when they ordered a pizza to share and had to leave the room to answer the door, undisturbed by the rest of the household. ‎By the time dinner rolls along Y/N is apprehensive and is starting to regret asking to meet the rest of the group. Sure, the girls had been nice but there was a part of her that knew that meeting them could go horribly wrong.

Wracked with nerves, Y/N quietly looks through her wardrobe for something nice to wear. No matter how comfortable the pyjamas she had spent the day wearing were, she didn’t think that it was appropriate. Lisa, noticing Y/N’s nerves walks over and looks through the wardrobe with her, picking out a midi length, cobalt blue skater dress with capped lace sleeves.

“Wear this,” Lisa said handing her the dress, “You’ll look great.”

Y/N sighed as she held the dress up in front of her body and looked in the mirror. Biting her bottom lip subconsciously, she debated telling Yoongi to call the whole thing off.

“Lisa, I’m not so sure that this was the right decision,” Y/N voiced her nerves to her friend as Lisa started to pull on a boat neck silver body-con dress with long sheer sleeves.

“Don’t be silly, it’s perfect for you.” Lisa turned around “Zip me up, will you?”

Y/N walked over to her friend and secured her in the sparkling dress.

“I wasn’t talking about the dress. I mean, I was too hasty in wanting to know everything. I shouldn’t have pushed Yoongi to do this, I’m such an idiot!” Y/N collapsed on the bed, face down and wanting the sheets to swallow her whole. Feeling the bed dip, she looked to the side to see Lisa looking at her in sympathy as she sat on the bed.

"Y/N, it took a lot of guts to ask. And I know that if he didn’t think you could handle it he wouldn’t have agreed to it." Lisa attempted to reassure Y/N, rubbing her back to soothe her.

"Yeah, I know but,” Y/N turned around and sat facing the red-head “what if they don't like me?"

"Wait, that's what you're nervous about? That they ‘won't like you’?" Lisa quickly stood up off the bed in surprise causing Y/N to fall onto the sheets.

"Yeah...?" Y/N replied pulling herself back to sitting.

"Oh my god you are so precious, of course they’ll like you!” Lisa let out a soft laugh “And there was me thinking that you were scared about finding out what's really going on here."

"No, I'm not nervous about that. If anything, it might be a relief." Y/N stood up to get changed on shaky feet, finding enough confidence in herself to at least put on the beautiful dress before deciding how she felt. Yoongi would be mad about me wanting to call it off, but I bet anything he would be smug as hell.

"Knowing what's going on myself, I'm not sure whether 'relief' is the right word..."

Lisa then moved over to help Y/N get changed. Helping each other with their hair and makeup and picking out accessories for the other person, Y/N’s nerves became more subdued but were still wreaking havoc in her brain. However, she didn’t allow herself to let Lisa see how anxious she really was as the dancer added a few finishing details to her outfit. When the time came for the pair to descend the stairs to dinner, Lisa looked as fierce as usual - exuding confidence. Y/N on the other hand still looked stunning but the confidence that should’ve been there had flown out of the window as Lisa uttered the words ‘come on, they’re waiting for us’.

They walked arm in arm to the dining room, following the distant chatter and the wafting smell of hot food. As they reach the door Y/N’s breathing becomes more erratic and she becomes light-headed. Repeating the words ‘I can’t do this…’ over and over again as she grows increasingly more and more panicked, she starts to make hurried steps towards the staircase. Lisa quickly paced over to her friend, her heels clicking against the floorboards. She quickly spun Y/N around and placed her ring clad hands on Y/N’s trembling shoulders.

“Y/N look at me, look at me.” When Y/N locked eyes with Lisa, her lower lip started to shake. Her eyes were threatening to spill over with tears and it took what little strength she had to keep them at bay. “Breathe. Deep breath in,” Y/N shakily complied with wide eyes, “and out.”

Y/N released her breath and repeated the actions until her breathing was no longer shaky. Finally feeling stable again, she pulled Lisa in for a hug. They wrapped their arms around each other tightly. They stood there in the hallway in the tight embrace for a minute or so before they pulled away from each other.

“You okay?” Lisa asked softly

Y/N nodded “I’m okay. Thank you.”

Lisa smiled warmly at her.

The girls walked back over to the large door and Lisa pushed it open with one hand, squeezing her friends’ hand with the other.  When they enter the room, the large table is surrounded by ten people - the other three dancers (all wearing a different coloured dress and heels like Lisa and Y/N), Yugyeom, Jungkook and, of course, Yoongi - as well as four unfamiliar faces. All of the men were wearing shirts of either black or white, unbuttoned at the top but still tucked into black slacks. Some were clad in numerous rings but they all wore a singular silver chain around their necks. Y/N walked over to where Yoongi stood to greet them at the far end of the room – the head of the table - as Lisa took her seat between Yugyeom and Jennie, all eyes on her.

“Good evening Y/N, Lisa. You both look beautiful.” Yoongi said politely, a small smirk on his face as he pulled out the empty seat directly to his left for Y/N to take. She graciously sat down and muttered a small ‘Thank you,’. She looked around the table to see everyone still looking directly at her. She blushed slightly and told herself to stay calm when she suddenly felt a large warm hand on her thigh.

Jungkook. He squeezed it gently to help calm her down. As children, he had always been the one person that could calm her down when she was panicking. When he left, her attacks became more and more frequent until she got to the point where it was affecting her sleeping and eating. Eventually, she had taught herself how to calm down little by little. Music usually helped but it was being able to control her breathing that was the main issue. Feeling Jungkook’s hand on her thigh sent a wave a tranquillity down her spine, the small gesture being all she needed to remember what he had told her during her first ever attack – ‘As long as I am here, you don’t need to be afraid. As long as I’m here, you are safe. I promise.’

She let her hand cover his for a small moment and squeezed.

It was enough to tell him she was thankful and, more importantly, okay.

As soon as Yoongi took his seat, the whole table suddenly started to tuck into their meal – eating as though they hadn’t seen food in weeks. Looking around the table, Y/N saw that all of the men at the table were trying to keep an aura of calm about them but their evident hunger, almost feral looks in their eyes and slightly dishevelled hair said that they had been busy and hadn’t eaten all day. Rosé had prepared a full roast dinner – including a large roast chicken, roasted potatoes, carrots, green beans, Yorkshire pudding, cauliflower-cheese and gravy - for the group. It tasted as delicious as it looked. The group hardly spoke as they ate, only muttering the occasional ‘pass the potatoes’.

Eating as she did so, Y/N carefully scanned the table. Yoongi sat to her right and Jungkook to her left, with Yugyeom sat next to him followed by Lisa and Jennie. All three kept subtly checking on her as they ate, making sure she was eating and was comfortable. The man opposite her seemed too engrossed in his food to notice anything but it, his hair falling haphazardly across his forehead. As he chewed, she could see the hint of dimples in his cheeks. Through his hair, she could see that his brows were slightly furrowed as he concentrated on his food. To his right sat two blonde men. The first, to his direct right, was shorter than him but Y/N could see from his rolled-up sleeves that he had more muscle to make up for it. Though he had slightly rounded cheeks and a set of plump lips that looked pillow soft, his jawline was lethal and told her that this man was not to be messed with. The second was taller than the first and thinner than the two men sat to his left. His own blonde hair had a slight hint of orange to it that was barely noticeable and was parted to the left, highlighting his strong eyebrows and high cheekbones.  Jisoo and Rosé sat opposite Lisa and Jennie at the end of the table. At the very end of the table was a brunette man with broad shoulders and large chocolate eyes. His shirt did nothing to hide the obvious muscle beneath and his knuckles were slightly red, surely to bruise.

When everybody was sufficiently full and plates were clear of food, they all made their way to the lounge for a dessert of apple pie and a choice of either cream or custard. As the group of twelve lounged around the room eating, Y/N noticed that they had broken off into little groups. Yoongi and the dimpled man she had sat opposite at the table talk in hushed tones, having chosen not to have dessert and instead hold a glass of scotch in their hand as they stand by the fireplace. The taller of the two blonde men, with a killer smile and deceptively charming eyes, sat flirting with Jisoo on the sofa, as Lisa and the muscly brown-haired man make snarky comments whenever the blonde tried out a flirty and suggestive pick-up line on his giggling target of affection. Rosé, Jennie, Yugyeom and a shorter blonde man sat and ate their dessert on the fluffy rug by the fire as they talked and laughed about something. The blonde man’s laugh was surprisingly childlike and made Y/N smile as she heard it. Y/N sits in the armchair next to the sofa, Jungkook perched on the armrest as they talk quietly and share a slice of pie.

“How are you feeling, honeybee?” Having not being called by that nickname since Jungkook left, Y/N grinned slightly as the word left Jungkook’s lips.

“I’m okay. Pretty happy actually.” Y/N replied smiling up at him.

“Well Rosé’s pie does have that effect on people.” Jungkook joked making Y/N laugh, “Seriously though do you feel comfortable?”

“Yeah, I do. I wasn’t sure that I would, but I do.”

Her friend only hummed in response and held onto Y/N’s hand slightly as he saw Yoongi make a final comment to his companion and turned to address the group.

“So, Y/N, now you have us all here what do you want to know?" Yoongi spoke, his voice authoritative yet also rough from the alcohol he had been drinking.  Y/N gulped nervously and licked her lips but she felt Jungkook’s thumb rubbing circles into the skin of her hand to keep her head clear.

"Your names. And your jobs too, I've never seen some of you before at the club..." She trailed off as her free hand played with the hem of her dress.

Yoongi nodded and gestured for the tall man next to him to introduce himself.

“I’m Kim Namjoon, Yoongi’s right-hand man.” The dark-haired man gave a warm dimpled smile as he spoke, immediately making Y/N smile back, and feeling like she could trust him.

“When I’m not around, Namjoon is in charge.” Yoongi interjected, “And if, for whatever reason, I am not able to run the club – Namjoon will take my place.”

A heavy feeling settled on the group at Yoongi’s words.

Namjoon then gestured for the smaller blonde man sat on the floor to talk, with a nod towards the head. He introduced himself as Park Jimin, smiling as he did causing his eyes to turn into cute little crescents. His voice was higher than Jungkook’s but the rasp of the Busan satoori was present enough to send a shiver down Y/N’s spine, recognising it instantly after spending so much time with Jungkook. It turned out that Jimin was the ‘tech guy’, responsible for the lighting and music in the club.

“I’ve also assigned him to be your chauffeur,” Yoongi then nonchalantly told Y/N with a smirk, anticipating the look of pure shock that now graced Y/N’s face.

The blonde flirting with Jisoo was called Mark Tuan and was ‘an alchemist of sorts’ (as he put it), responsible for all the cocktails available in the club.

“That, amongst other jobs,” he said smoothly as he let his eyes trail up and down Y/N’s body with a smirk making Jungkook’s grip on Y/N’s hand to tighten none too subtly. Y/N herself blushed slightly but let her eyes trail over the blonde man herself with a smirk of her own before cocking an eyebrow at him. He chuckled in response.

The built brunette sat next to Mark was last to introduce himself to Y/N.

“Jackson Wang, fitness trainer," He grinned as he spoke, making him look more like a puppy than a grown man that could easily knock anyone in the room on their ass.

"Why do you have a fitness trainer?" Y/N asked Yoongi in curiosity, her head starting to put all the pieces of the puzzle together.

"Am I not allowed to work out, Y/N?" Yoongi bemusedly replied with a tilt of the head. She only gave him a sarcastic eyebrow raise in response making him smile slightly.

"After what happened last night, I don't think you fucking need it…" Jungkook muttered, just loud enough for the group to hear.

"Sorry, what?" Namjoon spluttered out, almost choking on his drink. Others in the room flicked their eyes back and forth between the two men now glaring at one another. And also at Y/N, their eyes eventually landing on her bruised wrists. The tension was suddenly thick enough to cut with a knife. Why now Kook?

Y/N smacked Jungkook on the thigh causing him to look down at her in shock only to be met with a glare that could’ve killed him if possible.

"Doesn't matter..."Yoongi bit back, through gritted teeth as he gripped his glass so hard his knuckles turned white and his jaw clenched.

"Enough, both of you.” Y/N snapped, making all heads to her in complete horror. “Jungkook - don’t be an ass, he apologised. And Yoongi - please stop mentally murdering Jungkook for mentioning it. It’s not going to help anything.” Both of the men in question looked bewildered by her demanding words but did as they were told, much to the shock of everyone else present. “Okay now everyone’s calm we can carry on.” Y/N scanned the room, daring anyone to challenge her. Nobody did. “I know what Yugyeom does, so what about you Jungkook?"

"Well, I errm...I guess you could say I do Yoongi's manual labour." He scratched the nape of his neck as he tried to find the words to say.

"Yoongi's 'dirty work' you mean, stuff he knows he should do but can't always be arsed to do?" she questioned a playful glint in her eyes.

"Exactly."

"So, you're his bitch?"

The others splutter out laughs as Yoongi smirks and Jungkook looks positively stunned and grips her hand tighter. Y/N grins at him and squeezes back.

‎"Yes, Y/N, and as my bitch,” Yoongi looks Jungkook in the eye at the term, “I have also assigned him to be your bodyguard whenever you leave the mansion."

"I have both a chauffeur and a bodyguard?”

He hums in response as he drinks the remainder of the bronze fluid in his glass. The two men assigned to these roles just smiled at her. They barely knew her but they looked as though they would take a bullet for her if she asked them to do so. Despite her having a history with one of the men, Y/N had no idea why they would give her such a protective look. Slightly overwhelmed by the group of people surrounding her she had a heavy feeling settling in her stomach. These people would become her family over time. The people she would come to trust and rely on above anyone else. Her mind was whirring, something finally clicking in her head and knowing what was really going on. She knew her suspicions were right. Yet for whatever reason, she wasn't scared in the slightest.

They spent the rest of the night finishing off a bottle of gin and talking, the topic of their jobs completely forgotten about for an hour as they lounged around. Y/N talked to each of the new men individually for a short while throughout the night. They all seemed like perfectly normal men in their twenties and she had no issues conversationally, finding a common interest to talk to them about and establishing some form of connection.

At the end of the night, Y/N felt comfortably tipsy but nowhere near drunk. A small part of her told her that she probably should be a little drunker than she was for the oncoming discussion she would be having with Yoongi. None the less, she felt ready to have the conversation with him. If he was up to it, that was.

Yoongi escorted her up to their rooms in silence, heading into Y/N's bedroom. They both sat on the bed, the anticipation of the coming conversation hanging thick in the air.

"Well, you've met them now.” The black-haired man started once they were both comfortable. “They all knew what the meal was for. Jungkook and Yugyeom were pissed when I told them but they understood. The others actually respect you for having the balls to demand such a thing from me. Even more so now after you stopped the fight between me and Jungkook before we could rip each other apart. I honestly think that you fit into the dynamic of the group pretty well but only you can really know that. What do you think of them? Be brutal."

‎"I was pleasantly surprised by them. I didn't expect them to be so nice to me, I was intimidated of course – like I did when I met the girls - but I also felt welcomed. Accepted."

‎Yoongi sighs at the response, looking a little more nervous than either of them expected. How the fuck am I supposed to tell her this without scaring her off?

"Do you still really want to know what's going on here? Because if you do, those terms I gave you about your family and friends have to be concrete. Once you know, there's no way out of it.” He cautioned one last time, a small part of him hoping that she would prefer staying in blissful ignorance.

"I need to know if I am to stay here; I want to stay here, necessity aside. Despite my initial doubts, I've actually grown to quite like it here." Y/N answered confidently.

Yoongi sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Y/N, this is going to be difficult to hear.” She gulped in apprehension and moved a little closer to her boss “The club is only a part of the empire I control and is more than just a ‘cover-up’ for-"

"The mafia you're the boss of?"

Silence.

"You knew."

"I suspected."

"For how long?"

"Only since last night, after your reaction to my encounter with Taehyung."

"And yet you're still here..."

"Like I said, I like it here."

He only smirks, the same one she was met with during their first encounter. The smirk that made her stomach knot.

"Y/N, I assume you have heard all the rumours surrounding the club, surrounding me?" She nods with a tight smile whispering the word ‘murderer’ under her breath and he continues ‎"Despite what some choose to believe, I am not a cold-hearted murderer; I would never kill just for the sake of it. But that's not to say that I'm not dangerous. Every person under this roof is dangerous. We've all got blood on our hands. Viper is not only a club but a gang, which you are now a part of."

"At least now you've finally answered my question on why you need a fitness trainer." He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. She's taking this far better than I thought she would.

“I'm assuming you're going to have questions so I'll answer as many as I can now. I still can't tell you certain things, for your own protection." He leans back on the bed resting his weight on his hands.

‎"So, as a part of this gang, what role do I play?" Yoongi tenses but his smirk doesn't falter. She notices. "The girls are more than just dancers, aren't they?" He nods stiffly. "Where do they disappear off to after the performances?"

"As well as being dancers, they are also escorts for rival gangs.” He explains carefully, “After performing, a rival gang member is escorted off to a back room. It is then up to the girls to keep them happy and distracted so they don't get the stupid idea to try and take us down. People have tried, of course, but-"

"None have succeeded. I get it."

"Y/N I want you to know that despite them being escorts, I have never forced them into doing something that they are not comfortable with. I always talk to them before the club opens and tell them which rival gang members are most likely to show up on that night. They choose who their target is for the night themselves. It usually starts with maybe a lap dance but over time they move onto more… explicit favours. If there is anyone they don’t want to be around, I have Jungkook and Yugyeom keep a close eye on that person and if they get too close, they step in."

"Taehyung. He's a member of a rival gang. That's why he came up to me last night. He expected me to...satisfy him. To keep him 'entertained'." Y/N connected all the dots together and suddenly Jungkook, Yugyeom and Yoongi’s responses to her interaction with Taehyung became a lot more understandable.

"Exactly. But I don't want you to be like just another escort." She cocked her head in surprise and confusion, "I hired you for another reason. I had my eye on you for a while and so did the other gangs. Seeing you frequently attend the club made them start to wonder whether or not you were also a part of this world. Over time, as you grew closer to Yugyeom, I started to watch you a lot more closely and the effect you had on the men around you. When I found out from Yugyeom that you were a dancer all the pieces fell into place. You are to act as my 'consort' in the eyes of the public, to perform and entice all those that watch then sit by my side and look stunning."

Her breath caught in her throat at that, "Why?"

‎"I don't want you around those other 'men' around you, yet.” He cocks his head before continuing “If you don't want to do it you don't have to, you can just be a dancer if you choose to. Jungkook made me promise not to let you fall too far into this. Said that you were far too sweet and gentle for this world. "

"Okay, first of all, Jungkook has no business making promises for me. I can look after myself."

"Oh, I'm certain you can."

"And secondly, what do you mean by 'yet'?"

Yoongi licked his lips devilishly before answering.

"As well as staying by my side you will also be an...’untouchable goddess’ in the eyes of the rivals. They will want to get their filthy hands all over you, but you need to show them they cannot touch what they can't afford. Tease them if you must but never give them what they want. You are in control of the situation. If they try to touch something they shouldn't, show them why they shouldn't mess with the Bosses most precious gem." At the end of his little speech, he brushed the back of his hand over her cheek softly.

Y/N smiled to herself at the thought of her attending events on his arm in stunning ball gowns. Or even sitting on his lap in his booth at Viper in an exceedingly short dress. Being shown off to everyone. Everyone wanting to either be her or be on top of her, but never being able to. Unless, of course, they wanted a bullet through the head. Her eyes widened slightly at the thought before a small smirk graced her lips.

Yoongi sinks to the floor and to the hidden compartment under the bed. When he sits on the bed once more he is holding a silver revolver. It was beautiful and deadly. Everything Yoongi needed her to be. Everything she hoped she could be.

"Though I hope you'll never have to use it, Jackson is going to teach you how to use this as well as basic man to man combat so you know how to defend yourself if it comes to it. You are to keep it on you at all times when you leave this mansion, though with Jungkook as your bodyguard I'm hoping that you won't need it. He's an amazing shot and ridiculously strong, to top it off he'd protect you with his life. But you can never be too careful."

She took a deep breath but nodded as the gun was placed in her hands.

[buttsonthebeach]

River

Pairings: Solavellan, very minor Adoribull, and OC x OC (oh! and briefly mentioned Maevaris Tilani x Unnamed Husband)

Rating: Teen? I guess? For implied shenanigans? Nothing serious.

Note: Solas and Ellana’s twenty-year-old daughter has a (human Tevene) boyfriend and Solas is being a grump about it. Ellana decides to finally confront him. Humor and some sweet feels ensue.

This is a deleted scene from the epilogue of Awakened, so it does contain some spoilers for that fic. You can just read it as random grumpy dad!Solas fluff without further context and be fine.

****

Ellana never thought that fruit preserves would play an important role in her life, but a week into their family stay at Dorian and Bull’s villa, that opinion was rapidly changing.

The problem wasn’t so much the preserves as it was Lucius and Ashara and the preserves, and the fact that the two were very obviously coming down from the same room together each morning, and the fact that whenever they passed the preserves their fingers brushed, or that sometimes Ashara tried to keep the preserves from Lucius so he would have to put his arms around her in an effort to steal them back. But it really came to a head on the morning when Ashara got some of the preserves on the corner of her mouth, and Lucius reached out and wiped them away with his thumb, and their eyes met and Ashara blushed just enough that Solas finally stood and left the table.

As he seemed tempted to every morning that week.

Dorian laughed until he had to put his cup of tea down.

So, really, the problem was between the preserves and Ashara and Lucius and Solas, and Dorian wasn’t helping, and Ellana wasn’t sure who to scold first.

“What?” Ashara kept asking. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”

“What’s so funny is seeing the Dread Wolf himself, creator of the Veil, rebel god, acting like a child. Maker, his face. Do you think you two could do that again at dinner?”

Now Ashara was really blushing. Lucius wasn’t looking up from his plate.

“Hush, Dorian. Solas isn’t the only one acting like a child,” Ellana said at last, though there was little heat in her voice.

It was unseasonably warm, so they made plans to go to the nearby river later in the day when it got too hot for anything else. There was some scrambling for appropriate swimming clothes for everyone to wear - Ellana joked about swimming nude, which won her a scandalized look from her own daughter - and then it was time to go through the kitchen and see what they could pack. She found Solas in there, seated on a low bench, rewrapping the leather straps that protected his staff.

“Please tell me you aren’t planning on using that on anyone in particular,” she said.

“What?” he replied, distant.

“I take it you’re over your display at breakfast, then?”

“Display? I was simply done with my meal.”

Ellana rolled her eyes, though he didn’t look up to see it. She was holding the plate with the remains of his breakfast in her hand. If he didn’t feel like acknowledging what was going on, she didn’t feel like pressing at the moment.

“There are plans to go down to the river. Will you come?”

“Of course.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. This has been an awful lot of socializing for you, this past week. I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to spend a little quiet time alone.”

“I will be fine, vhenan.”

She set down his plate and ran her hand along his shoulder on her way to see what they could pack. The corners of his mouth lifted in response to her slight touch and he looked up at last. So he wasn’t in a completely foul mood - at least not anymore.

She managed to catch Ashara alone before they left for the river to speak to her about it.

“You know, you might save a little more of your affection for Lucius when you are alone,” she said when they were waiting for the others to be ready.

“I’m sorry,” Ashara said. She fiddled with the clothes she’d borrowed from Maevaris’s older daughter. They did sit strangely on her narrower frame. “Have we been bad? We didn’t mean to. It’s just…”

“No, da’vhenan. You haven’t done anything terribly wrong. I know that restraint is hard when you’re in those first stages of love. I only wanted to point it out to you. You might want to consider that there are other people around you who might not - appreciate the displays of affection.”

“You mean Papae,” she said flatly, her blue eyes narrowing.

“Yes.”

“He’s being ridiculous.”

“And this surprises you?”

Ashara snorted. “Not really. It’s just - we only have a few more days here, then Lucius goes back to Minrathous and we go back to Enasan. I don’t really want to spend that time worrying about what Papae thinks.”

“Fair enough. I’ll talk to him, if you’ll promise not to try and irritate him.”

“I’m never irritating,” Ashara said, lifting her chin with a comical superiority.

“Yes,” Ellana said dryly. “And I’m the queen of Antiva.”

In retrospect, Ellana might have done well to speak to Lucius, as well. She would hardly have thought it necessary. He was a kind, even-tempered young man - a good balance to Ashara’s flurries of feeling and action. He watched her with a bemused adoration as she went on about whatever thought had popped into her mind. He teased her gently when she started to take something too seriously.

He was also the one who picked Ashara up and threw her straight into the river not long after they arrived.

“What’s the matter?” He said as she walked back up the bank towards him, drenched and furious. The loose clothing she’d borrowed from Mae’s daughter was plastered to her every curve and angle now. “Didn’t you spend the entire walk here claiming it was better to go in all at once? That the shock to the body is actually healthy according to several studies conducted at the University of Orlais?”

“You -” Ashara sputtered. “That was -”

“I don’t think I’ve actually seen you speechless before, Ash,” Lucius said with a chuckle. He snuck an arm around her and pulled her closer to him. She put up only a token resistance. “Maybe I should throw you in there again.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Ashara said, pushing him back.

It led, predictably, to a bout of chasing around the waterline, and though soon they weren’t the only ones involved, when Ellana looked for Solas she saw that he had already moved further down the river from everyone, and was watching with a scowl. While Dorian and Bull lounged and Mae and her husband began setting out the food, Ellana decided to join her bond mate, and finally deal with things head on.

“All right,” Ellana said when she reached him, sitting down in the sand beside him. “Out with it.”

“Out with what?” he said.

“How irritated you are with them,” she said, nodding towards the ongoing display. Ashara and Lucius had separated from the others, even their friend Claudia. It was just the two of them now, crossing a sandbank to the other side of the river, hands loosely linked. “We’ve danced around it long enough. Just admit it. You hate that she’s found a lover. You hate that they’re running about the villa every day hand in hand stealing kisses when they think no one’s looking and that they’re clearly sleeping in the same room.”

“It is not that at all.”

He was indignant, and in denial, and there was a time that might have irritated her - his constant obstinance. There would surely be times in the future when it still would. But she had a feeling she knew what he needed now, so she simply leaned against him.

“Well then - enlighten me. What is it, exactly? Why can you barely seem to stand the sight of them?”

Solas flicked away a leaf that had fallen into his lap, harder than necessary.

“He calls her Ash. We gave her a beautiful name full of meaning and promise and he reduces it to a single mispronounced symbol that means only death and destruction in the human tongue.”

Ellana snorted, considered making a comment about human tongues, and thought better of it.

“Is that all?”

“He is intelligent enough but too quiet. He cannot possibly challenge her the way she deserves.” There was more heat in his voice now.

“And?”

“And he should not be encouraging these - displays. He is old enough to know better than to behave like this in public. And for that matter, he is too old for her.”

She had to laugh at that and look him in the eye now. “Oh, really? Remind me - did we ever figure out exactly how old you are compared to me? Even setting aside your actual age, you didn’t seem to have any issues pretending to be a man in his forties pursuing a woman in her late twenties. He’s only five years older than her.”

He did blush and press his lips together at that. It made him look younger. “That was different. You were - older. In many ways. Ashara is still a child.”

A shout drew their attention and Ellana saw that Ashara had successfully pushed Lucius into the river at last. She was bent double on the opposite shore, laughing, her dark hair still dripping around her face. And - she had to admit, it was strange to think of the daughter who climbed chairs in search of sweets to steal or begged her father to do one more little spell before bedtime now that Ashara was so tall, and now that Lucius who was taller still was coming towards her, clearly ready to scoop her back into his arms, wet clothes and all.

“She isn’t,” Ellana said. “Not really.”

Solas sighed and his face twisted back into a pained expression. He dug his feet deeper into the sand. “I cannot make myself accept that. I fear - I fear above all else that he will hurt her. Child or no, she is too young, too curious about the world and everything in it, for this to end well. I cannot begrudge him his human birth - but you know that alone will cause problems, before the end. I can only see that, when I look at them. The pain.”

Ellana looped her arm through his and rested her head on his shoulder. After a moment, she felt the weight of his head on top of hers.

“You are allowed to worry about her,” she said. “We both are.”

Lucius had put Ashara back down by that point. Claudia crossed the sandback to join them, the youngest of Mae’s children in tow. Ashara turned to them, shading her eyes against the sun and keeping her other arm tight around Lucius’s waist. She was saying something, but Ellana couldn’t make out the words. She felt a sudden rush instead: the person she’d known from the inside first, as stray flutters and kicks and sleepless, painful nights, was whole and grown and out in the world and she was a good person who drew other good people to her, and she was loved.

“We did well, you know,” Ellana said, though it was hard to get the words out. Solas was still, and then he moved so he could wrap his arm all the way around her shoulders and kiss her forehead.

“We did.”

They sat together on the warm, coarse sand and watched their daughter across the river as she laughed and ran in the shallow water. Ashara didn’t turn to see them until some time later, and by then almost all of the tension had ebbed from Solas’s shoulders, and the smile and wave he offered her in return was genuine. By the next morning his lips were pursed again at the sight of them, swanning down the stairs arm and arm, but Ellana just shook her head at him and smiled. He did offer to show Lucius what he meant about casting barriers later that afternoon, after all - and Ellana was well versed, by now, in watching small seeds take root and grow.

[history-freak1]

Once you get this it would be cool if you posted ten facts about yourself and then passed this along to your ten favorite followers x

thanks for passing this along, you’re a doll!!! let’s do this. 1. I have a deep, deep love for 70s/80s pop, my favorite concert in the entire world has been a barry manilow concert i went to last year...two years ago? and it was utterly magical. i’m seeing him this weekend again!!! EEEK! and yeah, Bee Gees, Eagles, Journey, you name it, I love it. 

2.  If you haven’t checked out my blog, you’ll know that I’m asexual! So, I’m a grey ace, meaning sometimes I feel ace and sometimes I don’t and that’s okay. I’ve never really had sexual feelings for /anyone/ per say, but yeah...it’s been fun.

3. I’m obsessed with politics + apple cider. Catch me on a Tuesday night, sitting in our student’s development and global leadership lounge discussing with others about domestic and foreign politics. It’s always on a Tuesday before AHS and it’s always with apple cider. 

4. I’ve been writing since age 12 and I’ve become a fairly successful poet! So, my first work was a Robert Pattinson fanfiction and it was set in my hometown and oh god, the cringe. I burned it with a lot of my earlier work, which looking back on, I kind of regret, because it was a part of my beginnings and it makes me who I am. But I’ll never forget you, shitty Robert Pattinson fic ft. underage OC, oh, Alex, who are you these days? (NOTE: I WAS 12 AND LITERALLY JUST PUT MYSELF INTO THE STORY), I was in middle school and even though my character was a junior in high school, things like recess still existed. I remember these *sigh*, good ole’ days. I still write fanfiction to date, but it’s a lot better and I cite Tolkein as one of my biggest influences. My poetry is a lot more recent, starting about a year ago. I’ve actually won some university-wide competitions for my poem Kansas! 

5. I’m an amateur baker! I bake for a lot of people in my community, mainly birthday cakes, but I’ve done cupcakes for weddings, anniversary cakes, and some for local competitions.

6. I live for 80s/90s sitcoms - my favorites are Cheers, Frasier, Wings, and Golden Girls. More modern favorite shows were previous Once Upon a Time seasons, The Good Place, Big Brother, American Horror Story, Supernatural, Park & Rec., and 30 Rock.

7. Not to get sad, but I was recently kicked out of my house. I have about $40 bucks to my name and nowhere to go, so here I am world. I really don’t know whats going to happen for the holidays or summer, but I’ll be damned if I go back home...they don’t want me there.

8. In the past month, I’ve applied for over 40 jobs/internships for this summer. Some are in national parks, one is a yearlong fellowship in Paris, another in Berlin, a summer co-op in Dublin, if you’ve been there, I’ve probably applied.

9. My favorite dorm food is a baked potato....oh my god, they’re so versatile and you can make a meal out of one, it’s beautiful.

10. Finally, the fact is I haven’t been on Tumblr recently. And it’s because life finally caught up to me and I’ve been really struggling with many things. I feel like the glue of my family for a very long time, my younger sister dropped out of college and now I’ve been stuck putting everything back and I finally snapped. So, I haven’t been on as much. It’s been...it’s been rough.thanks for reading!

[football-rambles]

Title: Welcome to the Family.

Summary: Jess is trying to keep her boyfriend from her family. Which of course hurts him a little, but will she explain all and realise she shouldnt have to keep away.

Disclaimer: I would just like to clarify that I do not own Aaron Ramsey,(if only) and this is completely fictional! Also, Some of this story is based on real-life experiences Although a lot of it would be fictional for the story I want to write.

Extra Notes: This is my first chapter fiction I have done in such a long time, therefore I’m still a bit rusty, It's something I’ve been wanting to do for ages and I sort of finally decided to go ahead with it. I hope you like it! It’ll be abour 4-5 chapters long so more of a mini-fic

Rating: General

Warnings: Maybe a few swear words and mention of violence. I will warn you when this occurs. But mainly just a general fluff fic!

Here's a picture of this beautiful human

Chapter 1

Wordcount: 1149

Characters: OC/ Aaron Ramsey.

I was dancing around the kitchen in just some shorts and one of my boyfriend's shirts in which I would most of the time when I was alone. Music was blaring out from the speakers as I moved along to ‘Moves Like Jagger’. Not a care in the world as I cleaned the kitchen sides.

I was singing along to the words before I was cut off by the buzzing on my phone on the other side of the counter. I sighed as I turned down the music as I go to and pick my phone up.

It was Aaron and I frowned as I looked at the time, he never rings at this time of day. We had been dating for just over a year and a half to say things were going strong. I recently moved in with him. It was a big step, it was probably the most serious relationship I've had.

Of course, I had other boyfriends throughout school and college but none of them was serious as this. Aaron was just a few years older than me. 5 infant, which was just a small age gap that some couples.

I looked at the photo of the two of us as it flicked on the screen, I accepted the call and smiled

“Hey!” I smile enthusiastically, as I leant on the counter wondering why he would be ringing at this time, probably to warn me that he was bringing some of the lads home.

I could tell he was near some of the boys. I could have sworn I heard Olivier’s voice, heavily with his french accent in the background. ”Hey, so your mother called me,” He informed me. I stood up straight as I started to trace a pattern on the counter top. Which was often something I did if someone was about to tell me something I didn’t want to hear?

“Really?” I asked, play it cool Jess. “Why was she ringing you? Normally she would have rung me?” I asked trying to make it sound like a surprise that my mother had called him. I mean I knew why she would have done but I was hoping she didn’t tell him. Who am I kidding anyway? Of course, she did.

“Yes, she wanted to know what I wanted to eat at the wedding,” He tells me, I was about to speak when his soft, Welsh accent spoke “Why didn't you tell me? I mean if you didn't want me to meet your the rest of your family you could have at least told me.” He tells I could tell the hurt in his voice.

It was the same voice, that when we had our first major argument and I mean it was major, It just broke me every time I heard him speak like that because I knew deep down he was hurt.

I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat, my heart just dropped into the pit of my stomach as I hear his voice, it made my heart ache from just hearing how upset he is. 

“Aaron...I can explain everything” I start to say before I could say anymore when Aaron interjected, “Explain that we were invited to your cousin wedding?” He asked. “You should have told me Jess” He sighed.

Before I could speak, Aaron already continued speaking. ‘Look, we can talk when I get home from training okay?” He asks, I stayed silent, nodding my head in agreement but of course, he wasn't in the room. “Okay,” I replied softly. We said our goodbyes and love you’s as he hung up.

I sighed as I put my phone, I felt complete guilt, I didn’t want him to find out this way, I was going to tell him, But I didn’t even know if I was going to go myself. I and Aaron have been dating for over a year now, we had recently moved in together. I moved down north to be with him. I have met all his family over Christmas and we got on so well with each other and Aaron had met only my parents and brother.

Mum loved Aaron, she would tell all her friends about us. Whereas my Dad wasn't keen on him first because he was worried about him but warmed to him and my brother was an Arsenal fan so Aaron didn't have to win him over.

When the phone rang again, it was mum “Why did you ring Aaron?” I directly asked her. Annoyed that she would ring him when he’s working and more annoyed at the fact she went to my boyfriend first. “Hello Jess, I’m okay thanks for asking” Mum replied to me sarcastically.

“I’m sorry I thought you would have told him by now that your cousin is getting married in two weeks,” She tells me. She knew how I felt about this whole situation, it wasn't the wedding that was the problem. It was the groom’s sister. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t think he is able to get the time off work, besides I really don't want to be in the same room as the stuck up -” Before I could even finish mum stopped me.

“Don’t speak like that Jessica!” She scolded me down the phone. I sighed heavily, I would always get worked up over the situation and I ran my hand through my hair “Sorry” I mumbled before it was silent.

“Look could you and Aaron please let me know what's happening. Tell me what you both be having for dinner. I can pass it on to Sara and Mark then” She asks. I nodded “I’ll let you know, or I will let Mark know,” I tell her before we exchanged goodbyes and I hung up.

I placed my phone down before I walked into the lounge and looked through the top drawer where we put most of the important things, how Aaron didn't even notice the invite in there for months beats me.

I take it out and look at it, I wanted to go. It was my cousin’s wedding, it was just his sister that would ruin it by looking down or making snide comments about me and Aaron’s relationship which would happen.

I looked at the time, it would be a short while before Aaron would even be home. So I had decided to clear the house. I had to try and think of an explanation to tell Aaron or that may have to be completely honest with him.

---

I hope you liked it. Any feedback is more than welcome! It’s just something for me, I’m not looking for reads or anything else. It’s just somewhere to write. But if you do read it thank you and I hope you enjoy it! Also, thank you to @thebluesideofmyworld and @zlatan--ibrahimovic for reading this and giving me advice! :)

[a-wayne-at-heart]

HYPNOTISED: A Jason Todd/Red Hood x OC Fan Fic

Summary: Snippets of a blossoming romance between Jason Tood/Red Hood and an original character (named Ima), with other DC characters in supporting roles. Jason falls for a waitress at a diner he frequents with his best friend, Roy Harper. When she is caught in the crossfire between him and Black Mask, he is determined to protect her at all costs. What he does not expect is her falling for him, too. And how much she becomes a part of his - and the Batfamily’s - life.  

** Not strictly canon. Romance + fluff + minor angst. A lot of Batfamily feels. Title from the Coldplay song. Currently 8 chapters long, each one to be posted separately due to length. Editing may occur, depending on inspiration. :) **

Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight

Eight

“It’ll just be a few days,” Jason said, rubbing Ima’s shoulders, “I promise.” He promised? Good luck keeping that, Jason. If he thought that three days had been enough to let her adjust to the idea of her moving to the manor, he was wrong. She continued to be sullen, and all he wanted to do at that moment was to pacify her. He had told her (at length) about what to expect from his adoptive family, that in spite of their “quirks”, they were the best company. “They’ll adore you,” he said cheerily, wiping away a single tear that betrayed her deeper feelings.

It was almost nine o’clock in the evening. She and Roy had shared a long goodbye hug an hour earlier, and he promised to visit her at the manor every chance he got, before speeding off to respond to an ongoing robbery. Her bags sat neatly by the doorway. He had arranged for Dick to pick her up; his adoptive brother had access to the Batmobile and was only glad to do it.      

She avoided his gaze, staring blankly at the door. “Hey, hey,” he said, lifting her chin up so she could face him, “You’ll have everything you’ll need. Plus, your cooking can give Alfred a run for his money. So, no more crying, okay? I’d bring you there myself, but remember Sully? The bartender from Wilson’s at the Narrows? Well, he tipped me off -”    

Deep brown eyes stared back at him, searching his, stopping all thought. “How about you, Jason?” He could have melted right there and then. “Who’s going to make you waffles in the morning? Wait up for you on patrol nights?” This was what she had been worried about? “Make sure you come home in one piece?” Home. He loved the sound of it coming from her lips.

“Uh, Roy?” he said, earning him a slap on the arm and a giggle he had been craving for three days. He pressed his forehead against hers. “I’ll come by. Okay?” And that was all she could hope for, knowing his standing with his family.

Feeling brazen all of a sudden, she tiptoed, laying her hands on his strong chest, angling her mouth to his - Beep. Beep. “I’m s-sorry, I need to get this,” he huffed, scooping his phone out of his pocket. She bit her lip, a little embarrassed, but also excited at the thought of what could have happened. What was she doing? “He’s outside.” His words and the sound of him grabbing her bags brought her out of her thoughts.

Once Jason buckled her safely onto the passenger seat of the Batmobile, she was able to get a better look at the driver. He was not the charming twenty-something-year-old man with wavy hair in black and blue tights that Jason originally described to her, but a… ten-year-old? She noted the red and yellow uniform with the signature “R” logo on the left breast. Robin?

“Damian?” Jason said, pushing his head further into the car through the window. “Hey, buddy!” He chuckled, attempting to ruffle his younger brother’s hair. This was swiftly deflected by the latter, a scowl forming below the green domino mask.        

“I’m thirteen, Todd. Stop treating me like a child. And, stop acting like one. Tt.” Ima found their exchange adorable.

“The old Bat finally let you take his sweet ride for a spin, huh?” Jason said, observing the interior, silently impressed with all the improvements since he last sat there. “Where’s -”

“Grayson has emergency business in Blüdhaven. And, Drake would only get to drive this before me over my dead body.”

“He can probably have that arranged.”

“Tt.”

Jason laughed out loud. He missed this.

“If you want to make sure she’s alright, you better see her there yourself, Todd. Don’t expect us to babysit her while you try get yourself killed again with your idiocy.” A beat. “The manor is literally fifteen minutes away.”

Like father, like son. If that was Damian’s way of letting him know he was missed in return, then he would take it.

“I missed you too, buddy.” With that, Jason gave Ima one last reassuring smile as the window slowly closed between them. She watched as he walked away from the car, helmet in hand. Please stay safe.  

“So, you must be Todd’s girlfriend.”

This was going to be a long trip.

Wayne Manor. She was in freaking Wayne Manor. Taken there in the Batmobile. By no less than Robin. She had heard of the place, of course. Who had not? It was as much a part of Gotham’s landscape as… crime was. But, to breathe the air within its premises, to step on the manicured lawn firsthand -

“Close your mouth. Fireflies might get in,” Damian said, smirking. He had been silent for most of the trip, with the occasional “Tt” when they encountered a stray cat, muttering something about how they should be in shelters. He was a surprisingly smooth driver for his age. Did he even have a license?  

He was probably side-eyeing her. As awkward as it had been, she was too preoccupied by his earlier question - rather, statement - about her being Jason’s girlfriend. What was she to him? Neither of them ever brought it up while she was staying at the safe house. When he looked at her, she was almost certain that he saw her as more than a friend. They had held hands in moments of vulnerability, but never kissed. It was not like it never crossed her mind… 

“I-I’m sorry,” Ima replied, sheepishly. “It’s just that this is… incredible.”  

Damian scoffed. She still could not see his eyes behind the mask, but she could feel him observing her through his peripheral vision. They were standing on the dimly lit driveway, waiting for Alfred to open the majestic double doors. Jason had told her about a more traditional entryway for the Batmobile (something about a waterfall), but she did not mind this one; the alternative sounded nauseating.

Light shone on the ground, indicating that the doors were finally open. A bald-headed sixty-something-year-old gentleman wearing a vested suit with a tail stood at the entrance.      

“Pennyworth,” the young master said with his chin up, walking past Alfred into the manor.

“Master Damian,” the bald-headed butler replied with a British accent, unperturbed by the rudeness. His eyes then fell on her as she struggled to get her heavy luggage onto the first step.

“Leave it be, young miss. I’ll handle it.” He lifted the bag with a single hand, without so much as a wince; his age definitely belied his strength. “Forgive Master Damian’s demeanor. He’s quite… special.” Was trained to be an assassin from the age of three. Had a grandfather set on wiping out a third of human population, a mother who tried to kill him, and... well, Batman for a father. She was not offended the least bit. If anything, she wanted to hug him. She understood what it was like to have one’s childhood stripped away.

“I have prepared Master Jason’s room for you, Miss… Ima, is it?” Alfred said. She nodded with a smile. Although his tone was formal, he radiated a fatherly warmth. Or, perhaps, it was just bias from what Jason had told her about him? “He expressly stated that you stay there. He is hoping that it would make you feel more at home.”

She followed him inside and the light from the crystal chandeliers almost blinded her. The receiving area alone deserved a standing ovation for its beauty. The high domed ceiling, covered in what she assumed from her readings were eighteenth century paintings, was reminiscent of the Sistine Chapel. Victorian furniture. Her reflection on the marble flooring. The smell of sandalwood -

Alfred cleared his throat, bringing her out of her internal revelry.

He led her up the stairs and into a hallway lined with medieval artifacts, such as a propped up knight’s suit, and huge portraits of who she assumed to be Wayne ancestors. There was door after door after door, and she wondered why there was so many rooms and what was behind each of them. They turned a corner, revealing the Wayne family crest engraved onto a wooden panel. More portraits lined the walls, but this time, they were photographs, rather than paintings. She easily recognized Damian, even without the mask. The chin up and confident wide-legged stance gave him away. Whoever the others were, they were quite handsome, all clearly very young at the time the photos were taken.

Black hair, blue eyes. Black hair, blue eyes. Black hair - her heart skipped a beat. She knew the grin anywhere. It looked like he was in the middle of genuflecting, surrounded by auburn leaves, picking up a particularly large one he wanted to show to the camera.

“The first day of autumn.” Alfred was standing beside her. “I took that photograph.”

 After a warm shower, she started unpacking her things, only to find that she did not know where to put anything. There was just too many storage options for her measly belongings; Jason’s room could fit three of her old home in the Narrows. In the end, she decided to keep them on a chaise lounge near the king-sized bed. She took tattered baby picture of her younger brother out her wallet and set it down on one of the nightstands. “I miss you, Kai.”

She laid down, burying her face into the feather-filled pillows. Hoping that they still smelled of Jason. She then checked her cellphone for the eighth time that night. Where are you? Jason had given her the phone, which had been encrypted in such a way that he could call it without having it traced back to him. This made it impossible for her to call him back. “In case something happened, I don’t want bad guys tracing either of us through each other.” The arrangement kept her on edge, but she understood that it was necessary. She wondered if he did it to keep her from constantly checking in on him, too. Like a girlfriend would. “Stop it, Ima,” she scolded herself at the thought.  

Apart from Alfred, no one else seemed to be at home by the time she came down for dinner. It came as no surprise to her, since she was now living with a family of vigilantes who had unconventional night lives. Besides, it was no different from living with Jason and Roy. Except it was lonelier.

She was relieved to find the Brit waiting patiently for her by an open fireplace; otherwise, she would have had no idea how to find the dining room. “Ah, there you are. I thought you had a morbid preference for starvation,” he said stoically, “not unlike some members of this family.”