#i really hope he chills once he's an adult and his balls get removed i can't deal with this all the time

[neonpigeons]

don't get a dog, they'll chew up everything you care about 🥲🥲🥲

[snelbz]

Light Up the Ice - Chapter 11

Summary: Aelin Galathynius has never really been into sports. Yes, she likes to keep in shape, and she works out, but watching people run up and down a field, trying to keep a leather ball away from each other? It’s always seemed a bit childish to her, and decidedly NOT a way for a grown adult to make a living.

Rowan Whitethorn has recently been drafted by the Terresen Staghorns, one of best teams in the EHL (Erilean Hockey League). And since he moved to Terresen from Wendlyn, it’s been hard for him to get more than 30 seconds alone from someone demanding a picture with him. Getting drafted straight out of college wasn’t exactly what he had in mind, but he’s not complaining. Until he accidentally meets a girl. More specifically, until he accidentally meets his neighbor. She seems to have no idea who he is and for some reason, that’s refreshing. But will she still want to be with him once he shows her the truth?

Light Up the Ice Masterlist

My Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

Co-written with @tacmc​.

Warnings: language, smut - this chapter is 18+.

A/N: No tag list this week, still working on how I should tackle that bad boy. But enjoy and look for Chapter 12 later this week!

Rowan was fully aware of Aelin’s hand creeping up his thigh. 

The radio was off and the two remained silent. All that could be heard was Rowan’s shuddering breaths and the intense beating of his heart inside of his chest.

At least, he was fairly sure she could hear it.

Aelin didn’t look at him, but that delicate hand kept slowly moving up and down his thigh atop his trousers. He looked over at her as he sped down the street, back to their apartment building. Her lips were slightly parted, her turquoise eyes wild.

He cursed himself for buying a manual car, that he’d let Fenrys talk him into the fancy, sports car, rather than the reasonable SUV he’d had his sights on. He couldn’t remove his hand from the gear shift, not on the city streets they currently drove on.

He wanted to tease her as they drove, wanted to feel if she was as wet as he hoped she would be. Twice now, she’d had her mouth on him, but he was yet to touch her, yet to explore what it took to make her writhe and gasp and moan.

Tonight, that would change in every way possible.

They had less than a mile to go, but it felt like far more than that. Every second that passed had Rowan nearly about to combust. 

As soon as they pulled into the parking garage and Rowan brought the car to a stop, Aelin was reaching across the car and turning his face towards her, her lips crashing into his. She cupped him through his slacks, and he groaned into her mouth.

The husky chuckle that left her was enough to make Rowan growl, “We need to go upstairs.”

“You aren’t enjoying this?” She breathed, squeezing gently.

The noise that left Rowan was guttural.

“Keep on, be my guest,” he breathed, his lips brushing her ear. “But I’m taking you, one way or another. You decide whether that’s going to be in my backseat or in bed.”

She lifted a brow but made no indication of moving. Instead, her lips found his, yet again, and she was nowhere near gentle. 

Aelin giggled into his mouth as he pulled her over the console and onto his lap, the horn going off as her back brushed the wheel, echoing in the concrete garage.

Rowan just pulled her tighter against him as her knees snuggly settled on both sides of his thighs.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, the kisses growing slower and deeper. Aelin’s fingers were gripping Rowan’s shoulders so tightly, he wouldn’t have been surprised to find small, crescent-shaped holes in the fabric when he took his jacket off. It didn’t help that while one hand was pressed firmly to her lower back, keeping her body tightly against his, the other was knitted into her hair, tugging on the strands.

Suddenly, Aelin’s hips jerked and she gasped quietly. She repeated the motion and the hand in her hair lowered to grip her hips, urging her to do it again and again.

Rowan felt like he was sixteen again, dropping Lyria off after a date and trying to get what time in with her he could before curfew befell them both.

But he wasn’t sixteen anymore, and the girl in his lap was not his inexperienced first girlfriend. No, Aelin was a woman, a woman who constantly filled every thought and whose face was the first thing he thought of when he woke up and the last thing before bed. 

And there was not enough room in this car to do the things he wanted to do to her.

Pulling his lips from hers, he breathed, “Let’s go upstairs.” She nodded, and he could tell how frantic it was, how erratic her breathing had become. He tilted her chin up, her turquoise-and-gold eyes clouded with lust, and asked, “Are you already close, Aelin?”

Her cheeks were flushed, but he could see them darken. “It’s been…a while,” she admitted.

Rowan nodded, slowly, and said no more as they got out of the car and went up the stairs. Rowan’s car honked in the distance as it locked.

His hands cupped under her ass as he carried, he didn’t set Aelin down once.

Not wanting to wait until she dug her own key out of her bag, Rowan headed straight for his door, unlocked the lock, and crossed the threshold. The door was shut with Aelin’s back, which was quickly pressed up against it. His mouth found hers hungrily, urgently.

Her hands were under his suit jacket, pushing it over his shoulders. He shrugged it off, letting it fall to the floor. Rowan’s hips were pressing into her, holding her against the door, as he lifted the jersey off of her body. It joined his suit jacket, and Rowan’s lips found her neck.

Aelin groaned his name quietly, and something inside Rowan snapped.

Before Aelin could decipher what was happening, she was being dropped onto his couch, and Rowan was pulling her boots off one by one before roughly undoing her jeans. He tugged them off and his mouth attached to her lace-covered sex.

The moan that tore from Aelin was the single most erotic noise he’d ever heard.

She was so wet, so ready, and Rowan had to remind himself to take his time. If it had been a while for Aelin, he would make it all worth the wait. 

She breathed his name and his shoulders tensed as the single word crept down his spine, leaving chills in its wake. Rowan’s lips pressed against her sex once, twice, then his teeth pulled the thin lace fabric over her panties and tugged, gently. 

���Tell me what you want,” he breathed, his breath warm against her. 

“Everything,” she whispered, her hands gripping his shoulders. “All of it, all of you.” There was a pause as Rowan tugged on her panties, yet again, with his teeth. “Taste me.”

He would oblige her, if for no other reason than the memory of the taste of her, off her fingers, had been on his mind for days. He could only imagine how sweet she would be straight from the source.

His fingers slipped under the waistband of her panties and Aelin lifted her hips, letting him pull the pale lace down her legs. When he pulled back, loosening his tie and tossing it to the side, he couldn’t help but run an appreciative eye over her body.

She had her bottom lip pulled between her teeth and one of her arms was above her head, clutching at the couch cushion. She still wore the soft pink, lace bra, but Rowan would make quick work of that later. Her legs were pressed together though, and with what he wanted to do, that wasn’t going to work. He tried to push her legs apart but she shook her head.

“Not until you lose that,” she breathed, reaching out and tugging on the collar of his dress shirt lightly.

Rowan chuckled, but didn’t protest. He pushed himself up on his knees and slowly unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time. He watched Aelin’s eyes as he did so, watched how her eyes followed the slow motion of his fingers.

The second Rowan’s shirt hit the ground, Aelin’s legs spread wide.

He smirked, moving his fingers to the belt around his waist, removing it, before flicking the button of his slacks and letting them fall to the floor.

Aelin’s eyebrows rose as she took Rowan in, in all of his naked, muscular, tattooed glory. “I didn’t know you weren’t wearing underwear.”

The smirk on his face was one of distinct male pride. “Sometimes it’s just too constricting.”

Rowan dropped to his knees and settled himself between those legs, kissing the inside of her thigh, then the other. 

The second his lips made contact with her sex, a quiet sigh that left Aelin. Rowan dragged his tongue between her folds and the sigh became a gasp. Her fingers tugged on the short strands of his hair, which only urged him on.

He gripped her hips, pulling her ass to the edge of the couch, spreading her legs as wide as he could. He gazed up at her as he gave her a long, flat lick, then another, and another.

Aelin swore she was going to catch on fire, was going to physically combust as Rowan devoured her. And when his tongue, at last, flicked over her all too sensitive clit, she cried out, and Rowan repeated the motion again and again, until she was muttering his name like a reverent prayer.

He didn’t bother feeling sorry for their neighbors as Aelin’s volume increased.

There was no vulgarity in her curses, no shame in her screams. She held nothing back as she writhed beneath him, was nothing but confident as her eyes rolled back and she fell into an endless void of pure and utter ecstasy. 

She was completely and beautifully alive, and Rowan was lost in the image of her deep in pleasure.

It wasn’t long before her heels began to dig into his back, her screams became less intelligible and her legs began to shake slightly. Rowan looked up at her, groaning as he saw her head thrown back, her hand gripping her breast, her chest heaving.

Sensing his eyes on her, Aelin’s eyes opened and she looked down at him. Her gaze was wild, her eyes glazed and pupils blown out in her lust. Nearly none of the sparkling iris was visible. With his eyes on hers, Rowan sucked her clit between his lips.

And Aelin shattered.

Her hips bucked off the couch as her orgasm slammed into her and Rowan wrapped his arms around her legs, placing his large hand against her stomach. He held her down on the couch as he continued to worship her body, his tongue plunging in and out of her, before paying special attention to her clit again.

The noises falling from Aelin’s lips eventually became quieter and quieter and after a moment, the only only sound was her heavy breathing and the sound of Rowan’s lips kissing a path up her body. He paused at her chest, playing with the lace of her bra. Aelin’s eyes lazily opened and settled on him.

“Wow,” was all she said.

“Wow?” He repeated, quietly, licking his lips.

“Wow,” she said, one more time, softly, pulling on his face until his lips met hers. She could taste herself on his tongue.

Her body shuddered again in the aftermath, and she wrapped her arms around him with a soft, shaky laugh.

“You’re tongue has a ridiculous amount of talent,” she said.

Rowan only grinned. “And I’ve only just begun.”

“Is that so?” She whispered, rubbing her fingers through his wildly messy hair.

“Mmm.” The noise was an affirmation, but his lips had left hers and were back on her neck. He lightly sucked on the sensitive skin there. His teeth nipped lightly. “You have no idea.”

Her response was breathy. “Prove it.”

Rowan slowly pulled away, his eyes finding her hers, and the grin on his face was dangerous.

Before Aelin could react, Rowan had her over his shoulder, carrying her into his bedroom and tossed her on his bed. She giggled quietly, but didn’t have time to right herself before Rowan had flipped her over and grabbed her hips, pulling her up onto her knees.

His face was back between her legs, his tongue diving back into her sex and Rowan wrung three more orgasms from her, back to back to back.

When she was a quivering mess on the bed, her legs having given out somewhere between the third and fourth orgasm, Rowan trailed his fingers down her back before gently pushing one inside of her. Aelin moaned softly, and Rowan felt her tighten around his finger. He teased her with one more and asked, “You okay?”

She nodded, not saying anything, just enjoying the feel of his fingers filling her, working her, higher and higher again. She had never cum so much in such a short amount of time.

“Should I stop?” He asked, curving his fingers, searching for that spot he knew lay deep inside of her.

She shook her head, incapable of saying anything. To punctuate her reply, she tried to shift backwards, tried to urge him on, pushing him deeper, quicker, harder.

He pulled his fingers from her slick heat, and crawled up her body, pressing kisses along her back as he went. He leaned down, his lips against her ear. “What do you want, darlin’?”

She finally spoke, though her voice was high and breathy. “I want you to fuck me.”

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked, quietly, nipping at the back of her ear. 

Aelin nodded, once, slowly, still trying to catch her breath. 

“Slowly?” he whispered, gripping her hips and pulling her ass back into him.

“It seems you don’t do anything without taking your time,” she breathed, and Rowan’s grin widened as his teeth gently found the side of her neck. 

“Is that a complaint?” Rowan grumbled. 

Instead of replying, Aelin lifted her ass, rubbing it against his bare cock. Rowan took a harsh breath through his teeth and Aelin chuckled quietly, burying her face into his comforter.

While he looked like the picture of calm, his control was getting dangerously close to snapping. He needed her, and he needed her now. He kissed her neck one last time before sitting up and gripping Aelin’s hips. He pulled her ass up until she was on her knees again and he stroked his cock.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he admitted, placing a hand on her lower back.

“Don’t care,” she mumbled, pushing her ass back against him.  “I’m on the pill. I need you. Please.”

He didn’t need to hear her say it again, didn’t need to be told twice. 

“Rowan,” she pleaded, and he fell into her without another word.

She gasped as he slowly slid his cock inside of her. Rowan’s eyes fluttered shut and his head fell back as he pulled her ass into him.

The apartment was silent, save for the sound of Aelin’s gasps and Rowan’s quiet grunts as he thrusted into her again and again. He tried to keep it slow, to let her adjust to his length, to let her lead and listen to her body. His fingers kneaded her hips, and he glanced down, watching as he slid in and out of her warm, hot center.

“Fuck, Ace,” he breathed. He wanted to smack her ass, wanted to slam into her as hard as he could and hear her scream his name. There would be time for that later though. For now, he was thriving on the sounds that fell from her lips as he pulled nearly all the way out, leaving just the head of his cock inside of her, and slid all the way back in.

Aelin reached back and unclasped her bra, removing it and throwing it to the side. Rowan tracked the motion, wanting so desperately to flip her over and finally worship her breasts. He had yet to see them, but he had a pretty good imagination.

She looked over her shoulder, as if reading his thoughts before pulling up her leg and turning herself around. Rowan tracked the motion, watched as she fell onto her back and met his hungry gaze. Her wild, untamed hair was spread out against his pillow, her beautiful breasts on full display. 

His eyes trailed down as he admired her body, then back up again as he thrust himself back inside.

She cried out softly, and Rowan lick his thumb before reaching down and rolling her pink, pebbled nipple between her thumb and finger. Aelin’s eyes rolled back in her head and he watched as her hand slipped between them and began to circle the sensitive nub at the apex of her sex.

The sight was almost as erotic as the sounds she began to make, her pussy clenching around him. He groaned, loving the feeling of being inside her.

And then she moaned his name.

Something concrete snapped inside of him, the tentative control he had over himself finally losing out, and he grabbed that hand she was using to play with herself. Pinning both of her hands above her head, Rowan laid over her, crashing his lips against hers, and his thrusts became harsh and quick and rough.

Aelin was groaning into his mouth and gripping his hands in her own. She bit his lip, and the sound that came from Rowan had her toes curling. Every ounce of her being was unravelling, and she suddenly lost all sense of who and where she was.

“I’m close,” she whimpered, throwing her head back. Rowan’s teeth found her throat, but his thrusts slowed, nearly stopping. He pulled almost all the way out and paused, nibbling on the skin of her neck.

She gripped his hair and tugged his face towards hers. “What are you doing?”

His lips brushed hers in a near-kiss. “You can’t cum yet.”

She tried to push her hips up into him, which only made him chuckle. She growled, “You’re a cruel, wicked man.” 

Rowan didn’t respond, he only kissed the side of her neck, sucking on the most tender of spots. He palmed her breast as he teased her, slowly inching his way back inside of her.

It was only a few minutes before he picked his pace back up, his lips unable to stay off her skin, kissing, biting, licking. He rested his forehead against hers and asked, “Are you still close?”

She nodded, her eyes shut, nails digging into the hard muscles of his back.

He nipped at the tip of her nose, wanting her attention. Aelin opened her eyes and gazed up at him. “Do you want to cum?”

She nodded again, breathless.

“Say it,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“I need to cum,” she whispered, one hand threading through his hair, holding him where he was. “Please.”

Please.

That word falling from her lips did things to him he wasn’t expecting, and Rowan hooked one of Aelin’s legs around his waist. He pulled all the way out, before slamming back into her, repeating the motion again and again and again until she came with a breathy moan, clinging to Rowan. Her body went rigid, save for her legs, which were quivering, locked around Rowan’s waist.

His lips crashed into hers in a bruising kiss and he fucked her fast and hard until she came down from her orgasm.

Her legs were still shaking, but she had gone nearly limp against the mattress.

“Good?” Rowan asked, smirking as he gazed down at her.

She nodded, not opening her eyes. “Very good.”

He kissed her gently, sweetly, so unlike what they’d just done, and they stayed like that for a few moments.

She pulled away, and asked, “Wait, did- did you not cum yet?”

The grin on Rowan’s face was almost childish, sheepish. “No, I’ve, ah, I’ve got pretty good stamina. Can go all night. Can be ready to go again after about five minutes if I do, though.”

Aelin’s eyebrows rose. “That’s good to know.”

“Aye?” He was chuckling quietly, and began kissing her neck again.

She caught him off guard, using his surprise against him, and rolled them. He was flat on his back, while she straddled him, his cock still nestled inside of her.

“Shit, that’s…full,” she breathed, adjusting to the new angle. With a devilish smile, Rowan flexed his hips, making it twitch inside of her. Aelin gasped and bucked her hips, which had Rowan’s smiling faltering, a quiet groan tumbling from him.

Those hips moved slowly as Rowan’s hands ran up her thighs and behind her ass. Although Aelin didn’t take her eyes off him, Rowan’s eyes fell shut, his mouth having fallen open. A low noise came from the back of his throat, a noise that Aelin thrived on.

Her hands slid up his abdomen and rested, palms flat atop his chest.

He could feel her nails gently digging into his skin, and he gripped her hips, helping guide her as she picked up speed. Her head fell forward and his name was a whisper on her lips. That sound, those two syllables, had Rowan growling as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her down and roughly kissing her, and he snapped his hips up into hers.

Aelin tore her lips away from his as she cried out, and Rowan bit down on the tender skin where her neck and shoulder met. He continued to thrust up into her, as Aelin fell apart in his arms, the small cries and whimpers spurring him on.

“I’m about to cum,” she moaned, resting her forehead against his. “Please, please, please, I’m so close.”

Rowan grunted his acknowledgment and he realized he was getting close, too. The feel of her all around him, the weight of her body on top of his, her breasts pressing against his chest, had him seeing stars.

He rolled them, pinning Aelin beneath him again, letting his lips close around her nipple as his fingers found that sensitive nub at the apex of her sex.

She gasped. “Fuck, Rowan, please!”

The cry was the most erotic sound he’d ever heard and gods, he wants to hear her moan his name for the rest of his life.

He felt her shatter completely as her knees shook around his hips. He kept moving, kept pushing, until his toes began to curl and the feeling of utter ecstasy filled his core. 

He breathed her name, his voice breaking into nothingness halfway through. A low groan escaped, and then another, as he pushed himself inside of her one last time. His body went rigid as he came, his face pressed into the crook of her neck.

They stayed like that for a few moments, no sound in the quiet apartment, save for their heavy breathing and the hum of the air conditioner as it kicked on.

Delicate fingers began to drag a gentle path up and down his back. Aelin chuckled as Rowan hummed softly, loving the feeling of her hands on his skin. He hadn’t pulled out, was still nestled deep inside her, and when he finally pulled back to look at her, he was once again floored by just how radiantly gorgeous she was.

Cheeks flushed, eyes bright, hair a mess. He had never seen anyone so beautiful.

Leaning up to press a featherlight kiss to her lips, Rowan whispered, “I am so in love with you, Aelin Galathynius.”

Her eyes softened and she wrapped her arms around him a little tighter as he kissed her again. She didn’t need to repeat the words back to him.

He could feel the truth of them in her kiss.

[yoditorian]

lacuna- part 8

din/reader

SURPRISE DROP!!!!! there’s only one more part left after this can you bELIEVE???? i’ll leave the emotional spiel until then and for now i’ll just apologise for the pain you’re about to go through in such a short amount of time💛

series masterlist // main masterlist

word count: 2.3k

warnings: angst angst angst, some swears, no seriously this is just pain they don’t even bang, a confession

“Have you ever removed your helmet?”

“No.”

“Has it ever been removed by others?”

“Never.”

He’s lying.

Din has always been so careful with his words. Lying makes his voice tremble, it always has done. So he is careful, he never says more than he needs to, thinks on the phrasing of the promises he makes. He has only outright lied once in his adult life, to you. To protect you. Maybe that’s what keeps him steady now. Even with a blade at his throat and half the covert watching on. He does not falter.

You’d think they would make engine parts easier to clean. 

You’re perched on a crate in the hangar at your old work station, legs crossed beneath you, as you scrub away at the dull metal of the second-hand hyperdrive motivator that some vendor in a backwater scrapyard had, frankly, swindled you for. The stupid thing isn’t worth the credits you’d paid for it, but it’s still a hell of a lot more useful than the one that sits completely dead in the transport’s engine. But this was your decision, and you have to live with it.

What’s the alternative? Spend the rest of your life working your way around the galaxy, flying for whoever’s paying? Settling down in the little house on the edge of the Damerons’ farm? Going back to the New Republic? None of your options sound appealing enough to move on. You know this place, you know how it works. That’s enough.

“Wasn’t just me who stuck around either,” Ran’s voice pulls you from a particularly stubborn lump of grease, “You remember this one?”

Your heart leaps into your throat, when he’d told you he was expecting company you’d assumed it was another one of his contacts. A black market buyer or seller, they usually are. Not him. You were expecting anybody but Din.

His armour shines under the lights, sparks reflecting off the unpainted beskar. It’s beautiful. But your stomach lurches at how new it is, that his old armour had somehow gotten damaged enough that he needed an entirely new set. Except one of his thigh plates, dented to hell and back but still usable. There’s something of the man you know, the man you thought you knew, under all that.

The way Ran talks about you like you’re not even there is enough to calm you. He has no idea about your history with Din. Good, one less thing he can hold over your head. It’s far from the most dangerous situation you’ve ever been in, but you’re not about to let your guard down. Not with the team you know is heading out alongside him. Although nobody’s told you where they’re heading off to, which alone is enough to confirm that you wouldn’t approve of whatever it is. 

You’re grateful you’d tucked your old blanket into a drawer in your workstation, the hangar gets cold. Especially when the Crest returns and brings the chill of hyperspace with it. The knit of it loose with age now, but it’s the last of your life before. The last remnant of a time when you thought you knew who you were. 

You don’t expect Qin to be the prisoner they’d gone to break out. Although, now that you look back, who else could it have been? Who else did enough people on the station give enough of a shit about to warrant sending a team after? The old team, specifically.

Nobody follows him out. 

You’re moving towards the ship before you’re even really aware of yourself. Qin looks surprised to see you, but you bypass a greeting to glance into the Crest’s hull. Empty. Did no one make it out? Did Din-

He’s there, suddenly, walking down the ramp and catching the pouch of credits that Ran tosses him. You try to cover your sigh of relief with a cough, but you’re not sure how successful you are. 

“Something the droid said, about the hyperdrive. Could you come take a look?” Din turns to face you, and for a second it’s like neither of you left the station. You’re rocketed right back to before everything as you nod and pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders. You don’t quite catch what Qin says when you disappear into the hull and unlatch the access panel, you’re not sure you really want to know, but you don’t miss the hatch closing up behind you.

“Mando?”

If Din hears you, he ignores your question, and the rumble of the engines lifting off almost takes you off your feet. You hurry to latch the access panel back up and wait until the ship steadies to shoot up the ladder and confront him. 

Stars. Stars and three X-Wings dropping out of lightspeed right ahead of you.

Oh.

“Tracking beacon. They wouldn’t have let me leave alive.” So he did hear you. 

He’s saved you. He risked precious seconds, ones he didn’t really have, just to make sure he got you out before the fighters got there. Something twinges in your chest when you think about your A-Wing sitting in the corner of the hangar, abandoned without a second thought and now blown to pieces. Suddenly your blanket feels a lot heavier around your shoulders. 

You go to sink into a passenger seat, before you notice a pair of big brown eyes staring up at you. A child, not like any species you’ve seen before, but a child nonetheless.

“Who’s this?” You hate the way your voice comes out all squeaky, like you’re afraid of the answer. You are, there’s no doubt about that. But you don’t need either of them to know that.

“He’s a friend.” 

There’s more to it than that, obviously, but you’re satisfied. One of your best friends is a six year old after all. 

The child chirps as you take the other passenger seat, holding out a little metal ball in his three fingers. He waves it around, desperate to show it to you. It’s the knob from the landing gear shift. You’d know it anywhere, you were the one to screw it in the first time. Now that you glance out at the console, there’s not anything that’s changed about it at all. Even your A-Wing, in all it’s years of service, had had bits and pieces pulled out and replaced, and that had been brand new when you got it. So why hasn’t the Razor Crest?

“What were you doing back there?” He asks, and you’ve half a mind to tell him it’s none of his business. But you’re tired, and he’s using that soft tone that you only ever hear in the dark. You’re powerless against it.

“I went back after the war. It’s good money,” You frown, “It was, anyway.”

“You’ve been there since then?”

“Everybody belongs somewhere, Mando.” You don’t spit the nickname the way you might have wanted to in the past, but he recoils like you do.

But you don’t belong there, you never did. No, you belong in that little room at the inn in Mos Espa. You belong in the sky in a starfighter. You belong in some busy Yavin marketplace chatting with your friend, with the kid on your hip and Din by your side. You belong wherever you want to, he knows that’s not Ran’s station. And Din? He belongs with you. But it’s too late now.

He punches in the nav code for Yavin IV without even needing to ask where you want to go. It stabs the knife a little deeper, the way he knows you so well. The way he always has. 

The child scrambles off of his seat and toddles over to yours, determined to pull himself up onto your lap by your bootlaces. Din doesn’t tell you not to let him up, so you haul the little green thing up and settle him on your thighs.

“Hi.” You introduce yourself, although it feels a little silly. You’re not sure how much he understands but he chirps in place of a reply before he gets distracted by the blanket around your shoulders. His little claws disappear into the wool and he drops his ball, utterly fascinated. You catch the discarded ball with your foot before it can roll too far and snap it up with your free hand. Din’s relieved you’re preoccupied with the little one, at least you don’t notice him staring. 

“Is there a-?” The child snores softly in your lap, buried in the blanket he’d pulled off of you and wrapped himself in. You don’t mind. It should be used to comfort a kid again, the same way it’s provided for you all these years. Letting this baby borrow it is the least you can do for him. The kid has a history, if the way he twitches in his sleep is any indication, and you’re not about to deny him something he might never have had. 

“In the hull, I’ll take him. You take the wheel?” Din easily, naturally, takes the child from you as you slide into the pilot’s seat. You don’t expect the easy domesticity to hurt quite so much. It feels like the galaxy is taunting you, forcing you to live a moment of a life you always knew you’d never get to have. You let yourself heave a shaky sigh when you hear Din’s feet hit the floor of the hull. 

It’s been a long, long time since you sat in control of the Razor Crest, but it’s just as familiar as the day you told him to take it. You flick the autopilot switch off. Any idiot can fly in hyperspace, all you need to do is keep the ship straight, but you need to feel the controls under your hands. Anything to distract from the gaping hole in your chest.

Din doesn’t ask to swap back when he returns. He only settles in your abandoned seat, and you can feel his eyes heavy on your back. If he has anything to say, he keeps it to himself.

You hope he doesn’t notice how the house is exactly the same as when he was last here, when you were last here. There’s a fine layer of dust that’s settled over the furniture but two sets of footprints, one about your size and another smaller set, lead to the fridge. Several new drawings have been stuck up among the others. You might cry if you were in different company. 

“Will he be alright?” You ask. Din had elected to leave the baby sleeping on the ship, as you’d touched down in a disused field across the track. He nods, trailing a gloved finger through the dust on the table. 

“Will you?”

He’s not expecting that. But maybe he should have. You’ve never not been worried about him, not since the first time you let him touch you, but it takes him out at the knees every time. Even when he’s pushed you away, even when you’ve been suffering yourself, you have always opened your arms to him. He doesn’t deserve it. 

“You could,” The words almost get stuck in your throat, but you know you’ll regret it if he leaves before you ask, “Stay.”

Din reels back. He can’t. You know he can’t, but you asked anyway. It’s enough to make his blood boil. He’s not angry with you, he never is, it’s his fault he can’t say yes. That’s all he wants. To stay.

“There’s schools, and other kids. You’d both have protection here. You’d be safe.”

The sun starts to disappear behind Yavin, plunging the kitchen into a red glow the way it did last time, but there’s none of the peace it brought before. It glints off his armour as the hope in your eyes starts to die. 

“I love you.”

How can the words he’s always wanted to hear make him so angry?

“Please! Every time I think I’m over you, you come back and turn everything upside down again. Please just give me something.” You can’t hold back anymore. You can’t stand here and pour your heart and soul out to a man who says nothing.

“You already have far too much of me!” He’s never raised his voice at you before, that alone stuns you speechless. So you just stare, chest heaving, waiting for anything to break the tension. And Din does another thing he never has with you, he fills the silence. 

“You have my name. You have my creed. I have nothing left to give you.” 

He leaves without another word, for the last time, and you can’t help but heave a choking sob before he’s even shut the door. His absence is everywhere.

He hurts.

Hurts like nothing’s ever hurt before in his life. Walking away from you, disappearing out of the door and knowing it’s the last time. You won’t let him back in after this. 

He can’t get back to the Crest fast enough.

Din practically falls through the side entrance of the hull, ripping his armour off before the door’s even fully closed. His guts twist and his lungs burn and he wrenches his helmet off, sends it scattering into a corner. He’ll find it later. Right now he needs to find the hole he knows is burned into his flight suit. A blaster bolt, a stab wound- something. But he only finds old scars and skin where your touch still lingers. 

No smoking hole in his side. No blood or wound. Just the absence of something important in his chest. An unfilled space. A gap between his ribs, something missing. He knows what it is.

His veins are somehow filled with fire and empty at the same time, knowing that would be the last time. The last time he gets to see you. And even though the hatred was so clear on your face, even though you were merciless in the words you hurled at him, he still thought you were beautiful. He’ll always think you’re beautiful, no matter how angry you are. 

Because he loves you. And now it’s too fucking late.

-

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@brothersdrxke @rebloogggs @keeper0fthestars @remmysbounty @sirianisrock @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean​ 

[palbabor-writes]

The Gap in the Door

1: Cold 

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, SFW, imma say it’s rated T for Teenz, also F for fluff 

Word Count: 4643

“Watch out. The gap in the door... it's a separate reality. The only me is me. Are you sure the only you is you?”

- P.T. by Kojima Productions

Notes: This thing is like, tooth-achingly sweet. For me, at least. Most of the other stories that I’ll post this week are gonna be nice and spooky/angsty, for that Halloween spirit, ya’ know? But, I figured let’s start with the treat before the trick 🎃

Not beta edited, so any and all mistakes are mine, and mine alone.

Cold /kōld/ noun

a common viral infection in which the mucous membrane of the nose and throat becomes inflamed, typically causing running at the nose, sneezing, a sore throat, and other similar symptoms.

You wake, sneezing. 

Your throat protests the sudden spasm and you gulp heavily, a sharp pain echoing across the back of your mouth. Lifting a hand to your neck you sit up, your comforter falling from your shoulders. It’s dark and your apartment is quiet. Leaning back against your headboard you chance another swallow, flexing the muscles of your throat. You wince, as that same pain shoots down your neck. Fuck. 

Groaning, you lift your legs from the sheets, pressing your feet to the floor. Great, just great, you think bitterly, padding out into your hallway. Since moving to Japan you had largely avoided any major allergies or colds. Looks like your time has run out.

Flicking on your bathroom light, you kneel by your sink, fingers tugging a large, plastic caddie toward you. You dig through the various bottles and containers, hunting for something that will ease the burning in your throat. The best you can come up with is an old box of Tylenol. Shit, you think, shaking out the last few pills, it looks like you’ll need to go to the store in the morning. 

Clutching the precious pain relievers into your palm, you stalk into your kitchen, turning on the lights as you step onto the tiles. Snagging a glass, you pour yourself a serving of chilled water and slug the pills into your mouth, easing their passage with a quick swig. They sting as they travel down your throat and you wince again. There’s nothing you hate more than a sore throat. You always found yourself swallowing impulsively and frequently, as if the pain would miraculously dissipate with the next gulp. 

Clinking the glass back on the counter, you open a few cabinets, hunting for your battered teapot and electric kettle. You’re just plugging in the kettle when you hear your front door creak open. You turn your head at the sound, fingers coiling beside you. 

“Hello?” you call into the void, hoping it will answer back with Tomura’s raspy voice. 

He steps into the living room, his eyes already narrowed, searching. “What are you doing up?” he asks, catching sight of your bedraggled form. 

“Making tea,” you supply, switching the electric kettle on at last, muscles relaxing at his familiar presence. 

“At 3 am?” he queries, shrugging his trench coat off his broad shoulders and heading toward your bathroom. You think about calling an answer after him, but another deep swallow has you rethinking that tactic. It would really suck to have a sore and hoarse throat come the morning.

You hear the shower running and shake your head. At least he’d asked you a few, cursory questions. That was nice. For him. 

Lifting up on your toes, you snag your small collection of tea bags, selecting a light chamomile and replacing the tin. Your kettle is just starting to beep when Tomura returns. He’s shirtless, his new sweatpants hanging low on his hips. His hands are scratching at the back of his head, sending small droplets of water across your mats. 

“So,” he continues, eyes lifting to yours, “what’s with the tea?” 

“Sore throat,” you supply, plopping the tea bag into a mug and pouring the boiling water over the sachet, watching it rise to the lid. You lift the cup to your nose and sniff at the fragrant aroma. 

“You sick or something?” he asks, pulling a stool out and perching against your counter. 

“Looks like it,” you grouse, lifting the tea bag out of the hot water a few times, watching the color shift to a pleasing sun kissed, golden. 

“Since when?” he’s watching you closely, his head cocked. 

“I don’t know, since a few hours ago? Sometimes colds just happen. It’s not really something you can predict.” You look at him appraisingly and arch an eyebrow. “You look, um, a little confused about that. You one of those people who never gets sick or something?”

Tomura shrugs, eyes drifting from you as he props his chin on his palm. “Always had access to a doctor.” 

You laugh and your throat tenses again, making you grimace. Tomura is unamused and rolls his eyes at your response. 

“Ooh, that’s fancy. Not everyone can say that,” you tease, taking a hesitant sip of your tea, the scalding liquid easing some of the lingering pain. A silence stretches between you, but it’s not uncomfortable. The two of you have long since adjusted to the other's presence. 

“He worked with my...Sensei,” Tomura expands, his voice low, almost too hushed to hear. You blink, surprised he’s elaborating on his thoughts. 

While he has opened up to you a little more in the last few weeks, he’s never told you much about his upbringing. You sensed that his childhood wasn’t, well, normal. How could it have been? His quirk was activated by touch. Even if he has a family, there was no way that that manifestation had gone, uh, well. 

“So, a personal doctor, that’s...yeah, I guess you weren’t really given a chance to get sick,” you take another sip of your tea and remove the tea bag, slipping it into your trash. 

Tomura is quiet again. His eyes are staring off into the distance, the red unfocused, as if he’s remembering something. 

Sighing, you blow against your mug and walk past him, stepping onto the mats of your living room. He doesn’t follow, but he does shift his position, twisting so his back is braced against the counter, facing you again. You flop onto your couch and lean against the cushions, clearing your throat after you take another scorching drag of your tea. 

“Did you...eh, do you have medicine?” Tomura asks. His face is stuck in an odd scowl. It’s like he isn’t sure of the words and he’s testing them out. You smile. “Yeah, I took some painkillers. I’ll have to get the stronger stuff tomorrow.” 

His jaw tenses again and he huffs out a sigh. His eyes lift to study your face for a moment. “You should sleep,” he murmurs, a light blush creeping across his nose. You try to hold in your grin and distract yourself with another swig of chamomile.

“Once I finish this, I will,” you assure him, eyes bright with your unspoken appraisal. His stilted behavior is kinda adorable. Not that you would tell him that. God, no, that would be a mistake of enormous proportions. He’d likely ignore you for the rest of the night, if not longer. 

He nods at your response and stands, crimson eyes still fastened onto yours. He opens his mouth, but shuts it quickly, another scowl etching across his lips. Without a word he pads into your hallway, heading toward your bedroom. You cough out a laugh and wash the remains of your mug back, savoring that warming sensation a final time. 

You sit on your couch for a while, your mug cooling between your fingertips. Tomura never ceased to fascinate you. Every time you think you’ve got him figured out, he turns on a dime, his personality shifting, surprising you. Tonight is no exception. He seemed...softer somehow, like he’s unsure how to voice his uneasiness with the foreign predicament you’ve found yourself in. 

You lift yourself slowly, stretching on your tiptoes as you stand. Placing your empty mug on your media cabinet, you walk toward your hallway, switching off the living room light as you pass. 

Your bedroom is cool and dark. 

You can just make out Tomura. He’s splayed across your sheets, his hands balled in that familiar manner, quirk contained by his clenched fists. His eyes open when you shut your door and he watches you step toward him. Your knees dip the mattress as you climb across the surface, stopping when you reach his side. You sink into the sheets, tucking your legs under the covers and pulling your comforter up to your chin. 

Tomura tilts his head to rake his eyes over your exposed face. You smile weakly at him, another sharp stab of pain racing along your throat. 

Your eyes are drifting closed when you feel his arms around you, tugging you toward him. While this isn’t unusual, Tomura has long since established himself as Japan’s number one fugitive and cuddler in your books, you move away from his embrace. He sucks his teeth loudly and you look up at his irritated expression. 

“Stop. I don’t wanna get you sick,” you tell him, shaking your head at his ire. He pulls at you again, lifting you effortlessly against his bare chest. 

“Tomura,” you warn, pushing against his hardened grip. 

“Go to sleep,” he grunts, digging his nose against your hair, his arms still locked around your back, fingers curling back into his palms. You sigh and try your luck again, squirming against his hold. 

“Ugh, really?” you question, letting out a sigh of agitation as your efforts are quelled once more. 

“Really,” he mimics, only loosening his arms when he’s satisfied you won’t try to pull from him again. You shake your head and let your cheek fall against his skin, the reassuring warmth of him seeping into you. His arms lower to the sheets and he locks his chin over your head, his own eyes finally closing. 

In a few minutes, both of you are asleep. 

******

A strange smell lifts you from your disjointed dreams. Wincing, you sit up. For a moment, you think you might be feeling better, then a well timed sneeze has you second guessing that diagnosis. Nope, still sick. You run your tongue over your teeth and shift your comforter away. 

You’re alone in your bed. Your fingers trace across the side of the sheets that Tomura slept on. They’re still warm, he must have only just gotten up. Standing, you swallow heavily again and sniff back the sinus pressure that rushes to your temples. As you dig in your closet for a jacket, you catch a whiff of that odd smell again. 

Your nostrils flare as you try to deepen your inhales, but the passageways are clogged. It’s no use. You can’t get a read on it. 

As you pass your living room, you give the space a quick glance. The late morning sun is peeking playfully through your screen door and your console is playing the main screen music on the tv. It sounds dull, like a bad recording. Yeah, you think, popping into your bathroom to snatch up the Tylenol bottle, you definitely have a head cold. 

Ick. There’s that smell again. 

You pause as you enter your living room, searching for the source. Tomura isn’t on your couch. While that isn’t odd, on the whole, it’s not exactly normal either. He’s usually in one of two places when he’s in your living room: perched at your counter, or lounging on your couch. You peek into your kitchen and feel your jaw drop.

Tomura is standing beside your stove. There’s a pot resting on one of the burners and he’s poking at the contents doubtfully, wooden spoon stirring intermittently. It takes you a minute to process this image. Blinking, you shake your head and look again. Nope, it’s him alright. 

Tomura Shigaraki is standing in your kitchen and appears to be attempting to, uh, cook? As he stirs the spoon across the pan again that smell wafts up. Ah, cooking had felt a bit strong. Besides, you reason, Tomura burning something at least feels a little more...normal.

“What’s that?” you ask and he turns, his eyes flashing. He doesn’t offer any explanation, he just twists back to the stove, a dark scowl spreading across his face. You walk to him and lean over his side, peering into the pot. 

It looks like he’s found some of your chicken stock. There’s a small assortment of vegetables mixed in, some carrots, badly chopped onions and what appears to be some frozen peas. You tilt your head, checking the level of the gas burner. Yeah, it’s set way too high. 

You glance up at him, “I’m going to adjust the burner. It’s too hot, so it’s catching some of the carrots.” He grunts and steps away, a red blush seeping across his nose and cheeks. 

With a practiced ease, you lower the heat to a simmer and lift the pot up for a moment, shifting the contents. “All in all, it looks pretty good,” you tell him, sniffling as the strong aroma hits your nose. “Mind if I put some more stuff in it?” 

Tomura snorts at that and shrugs, his eyes not meeting yours. “Do what you want.” 

You smile at him and lift a hand to his arm, fingers tracing along his bare skin. He sighs at your touch, his eyelids drifting closed, shuttering his tense embarrassment. 

Stepping past him, you grab your glass from the night before and fill it with some chilled water, popping the final set of Tylenol into your mouth. He watches as you swallow the pills and cocks his head, his pearly hair falling to one side. 

Setting the glass back against your counter, you give him another long look and walk to your fridge. You grab a few ingredients: cold chicken, celery and extra broth. 

Tomura circles to you as you set your selections down, curious. 

Moving to your dry goods cabinet, you snag some spices and seasoning: ginger, thyme, rosemary, turmeric, salt and pepper. You chop the chicken and grab a small skillet, firing up another burner and heating it until it loses its pink center. As the chicken is cooking you chop the celery and start to add the seasonings to Tomura’s original attempt. Once the chicken is cooked through, you toss it in and add a dash of extra broth, sliding a lid over the contents. 

Tomura hovers close by as you work, his eyes shifting from you to your preparations, seemingly fascinated. You let out a shuddering cough and he steps closer. Involuntarily, you lean away from him and turn to scrub your hands clean at your sink. He waits, letting you dry your hands on a nearby cloth, before repeating his movements. He’s close enough for you to feel the heat radiating from him. You shiver at the sensation and look up at him. 

He looks...concerned? You’ve not seen this expression before. His eyes trace your face, the red subdued, tamped down, the irises almost looks garnet. 

“How long does it need?” he asks, jerking his head toward your stove. You tear your eyes from his and sniffle, another cough rising in your throat. “Should- hem- should be ready in thirty minutes, give or take. Don’t turn the heat up,” you warn, lifting your eyes back to his. 

Tomura nods and tilts his chin toward your living room. “Go lay down,” he rasps, his voice low and even. 

“I’m ok-” you begin, but he steps closer, peering down at you critically. 

“Don’t argue with me (Y/N), go lay down.”

Smiling at his insistence, you lift your hands in supplication and he lets you pass him. Before you settle on your couch, you step back into your bedroom, snatching up a spare blanket from your closet. When you return to your living room, you’re surprised to see Tomura sitting on your couch. He gives you a passing glance and lets out a shallow breath, fixing his attention on your tv, using your console controller to select a game. 

“I thought you wanted me to lay down,” you question, one brow arched. He looks back to you and his eyes narrow. 

“I do, come on.” 

You let out a coughing laugh, earning yourself a disgruntled glare. “Stop acting like an idiot,” Tomura grumbles, rolling his shoulders agitatedly. 

Plopping beside him, you tuck your cold feet against the cushions. He grants you a quick peripheral glance and lifts his hands, clearing space for you on his lap. Your eyes widen and you swallow thickly, the pain in your throat momentarily forgotten. Well, that’s a, um, different solution. 

Tomura heaves a heavy sigh at your hesitation and you can feel his frustration rising. Not wanting to provoke him further, you quickly lay down, stretching your feet out and gingerly resting your cheek against his thigh. 

Tomura tenses for a moment, his sudden movement entirely involuntary. You twist your head at the tremor but he stills your motion, leaning over you, his white hair curtaining the two of you. 

“Sleep,” he grumbles, his eyes resting on yours, the red glowing in the bright light. You nod silently and he pulls away, refocusing on his game. Your eyes drift closed and you shrug your blanket higher, savoring the warm, content sensation that is pouring into you.  

You must have passed out pretty quickly. 

The next thing you remember is someone lifting your foggy head and then everything is blissfully blank again. It’s not until you hear a gravelly voice calling your name that you stir, eyes bleary, wincing against the afternoon sun. 

Tomura is sitting, cross legged, in front of you, a bowl of soup resting in his four fingered grip. He’s redressed, his usual black shirt and pants dark against your mats. You sit up, the heels of your palms pressing into your eyes, a sharp pain hammering against your head. 

Tomura’s red gaze fills your vision as you blink back your exhaustion. He lifts the bowl, re-focusing your attention. “Eat,” he orders, shifting the vessel into your cold hands. You nod and lean back into the cushions of your couch. He stands and regards you, his eyes flicking across your pallid face. 

“You said you needed medicine?” 

You pause, lowering your spoon back to the chicken soup before answering. “Yeah, I only have painkillers...nope, actually, I just ran out of those too. I’ll go out after I eat-”

“No,” he replies, his voice sharp. You look up at him, your head already tilted in confusion. 

“What do you mean no? I need something stronger than what I have...ick, had. Plus, this cough is only going to get worse if I ignore it. I can’t-”

“I’ll get it.” 

You gape at him. “What?” you ask, bewildered, thinking your clogged ears have misheard him. 

“I’ll get you the medicine,” he sighs, his eyes meeting yours. 

“Tomura-” you begin, but he cuts you off, standing. “Eat (Y/N), I’ll be back.” 

“You can’t, what if someone sees you. It’s like, 4 in the afternoon, you never go out in the-”

“Fuck, stop arguing with me. I know what I’m doing, I’m not fucking stupid. What do you think I do when you’re not around?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t want you to-”

He ignores your rebuttal. “You think I walk around with some giant sign with my name on it or something? No one is going to notice me.”

“But, you don’t-”

“Goddamn it,” he bites out, red eyes flashing dangerously. “Do you want the medicine or not?”

“I was going to say you don’t even know what I need, Mr. I’ve never been sick before because I had a personal doctor at my beck and call.” You don’t mean to snap at him, but he’s starting to piss you off and your head is pounding. 

Tomura glares at you and he lifts his phone up for your inspection. You blink, eyes squinting at the bright screen. It looks like he’s done a little research while you were sleeping. There are several pictures of various cold medicines and each has a small line of text underneath, listing the uses and side effects. 

“Pick something,” he growls. You can tell that he’s trying to contain his anger and you feel a little guilty for snapping at him. He is trying, you think sullenly. 

“You didn’t need to do all that...I mean, ugh, sorry,” you amend and point to two of the medications. He twists the phone back to his face, tapping on the screen a few times before lifting it back to you. 

“Just these?” He shows you your two selected medications and that the others have been removed from his digital notes. You nod, lowering your head and biting your lip. 

You know that he must have his ways of getting around. But, you can’t help that nagging worry that itches along the back of your mind. No, he’ll be fine (Y/N), you think. Remember how hard it was for you to find him on the fucking internet? Without those creepy hands of his, he’s practically an enigma.  

Tomura stands and looks down at you. “Eat,” he reiterates and you dutifully dip your spoon back into the broth. He gauges you silently, but turns when you lift the spoon to your lips, sliding the hot liquid into your parted mouth. 

He lifts his trench coat from a kitchen stool and threads his arms into the sleeves, sparing you a final glance before pacing down your walkway, toward your front door. You hear it open and shut, the lock turning with a decided click. Sipping another spoonful of soup you decide that your additions to the broth at least took the edge off the burnt carrots.

******

Tomura returns an hour later, a plastic bag rustling in his grip. A light rain had started soon after he left, so his hair is damp, clinging to his shoulders. He shrugs off his soaked trench, leaving it in your hallway, knowing you dislike wet clothing dripping on your living room mats. 

You must look worse, because he eyes you gravely before stalking into your kitchen. 

You hear your fridge opening and closing and a glass tapping down on your counter. A few moments later, he’s back in front of you, pressing a glass of water into your hands. 

“One is a syrup. The other is a pill,” he informs you, tossing the plastic bag beside you. You clear your throat roughly, “Thanks.” He sits next to you, his shoulders tense. 

“You ok?” you ask, worry creeping into your subconscious. You’ve never seen him like this. It’s like he’s vibrating with some unseen energy. You know it’s likely a mixture of apprehension and concern. Still, they’re not emotions that you’d usually associate with him. 

He seems unsure, and you can tell he’s trying his hardest to hide his discomfort from you. Naturally, in tried and true Tomura fashion, that means he’s going to be sullen. Annoyance and anger are usually his go-to moods when he’s uncertain. 

“Are you going to take them or not?” he questions, his voice clipped, sharp. His eyes lift to meet yours, the red dark and turbulent. 

Yeah, he’s definitely on edge. 

Huffing out a soft exhale of exasperation, you flick your hand into the bag, pulling out the first box your fingers land on. 

It’s the syrup. Twisting the lid off, you portion out the recommended dosage and slug the thick liquid back, shaking your head against the slimy texture and biting flavor. Tomura’s eyes widen at your reaction, the red losing some of that underlying aggression.

“Does it taste bad?” 

Shrugging, you replace the bottle in its original box, slipping it back into the bag. “It’s disgusting, but it works. This stuff always makes me loopy, so, uh, sorry if I pass out on you.” 

You lift the final box from the plastic. This medicine is mostly used for migraines. It should knock out that pounding in your head pretty quickly. Cracking the packaging open, you slip the pill bottle out and pop a single tablet into your mouth, taking a quick swig of water to wash it down. Sighing, you lean back again. Here’s to hoping that this stuff would clear this cold out of your system.

Tomura is still observing you. You turn to him, curling your feet under your legs. “You should eat. You’ve been dealing with me all day, so I know you haven’t,” you press, lifting a hand to his dripping hair, fingers trailing along the strands. He narrows his eyes at your order, but leans into your touch automatically. 

“Fine, go lay down,” he commands, titling his face into your palm. You grin, amused by his duality, and trace your thumb along the scar on his lip. His gaze darkens, tempted, but he leans back and your hand falls to your lap. 

“Go,” he insists, standing, waiting for you to do the same. You gather your blanket around your shoulders and do as he asks, shuffling past him and into your bedroom. The autumn sun is just beginning to slip beneath the horizon and its hazy glow bathes your room in a low light. You sigh, unhooking your blackout curtains and pulling them closed, dousing your room in a comforting darkness. 

As you curl into your cool sheets you can hear Tomura moving around in your kitchen. With a low exhale, you burrow your face into your pillow, the medicine starting to course through your system, lulling you into a dreamless sleep. 

******

You shift back into consciousness as Tomura turns you to him. He intertwines his long legs with yours, settling heavily against you. His arms are tucked to his chest, palms facing toward him, fingers curled. His head bumps against yours and you have the distant sense to tilt your face away. Tomura dislikes this and unwinds his arms, his fingers urging you back to him. 

“Just because I took medicine doesn’t mean I’m not contagious,” you warn, keeping your chin down, trying to avoid him. He grumbles at that, a low rumbling echoing along his chest. His hand lifts and cups your chin letting his rough lips capture yours, pressing you open. You gasp and pull away, but he follows, his lips urgently seeking yours. 

“Tomura-” you scold, but he silences you with another kiss. You can’t help your moan, trying to ignore the warmth that is coiling in your core and shake your head, slipping him from you. 

“Stop that,” he grouses, voice rasping against your parted lips. He won’t let you shift away, his strong thighs pinning your legs down, instantly tensing and stilling your halfhearted attempts at escape.

“I already told you, I don’t want to get you sick,” you pant, trying to ignore his incessant touch. It’s not an easy task. Part of you doesn’t want him to stop, while the rational, logical side is warning that if he’s like this when you’re sick, just imagine how agitated he’ll be if he catches this cold.  

“I don’t care,” he murmurs, lips gliding against yours again. He’s soft, not seeking anything other than your caresses. He’s not pawing or groping at your curves. Instead, his hands are resting beside your jaw, fingers teasing along your smooth skin. 

“You say that, but how would you know? You told me you’ve never really been sick…mmm...this shit isn’t fun, Tomura…” 

He’s not giving up, his forehead pressing against yours. He cups your face and sucks against your lower lip. You sigh at the rough sensation, exasperated, and, at long last, give in, returning his kiss, your hands drifting to his hair. Tomura hums, finally satisfied, and lifts away, his eyes latching onto yours. You groan at the loss of his lips, but don’t lean toward him. Instead, you distract yourself by running your fingers across his face. Smoothing against his coarse skin, touch delicate and featherlight. 

He closes his eyes, sighing contentedly and rests his forehead against yours, his arms curling back to his chest. “Sleep,” he grunts as you lift your hands away from him.

“Hey,” you call and he opens his eyes again, vermillion scanning your face, waiting. “Thanks, for today, I mean...” 

He exhales and presses closer, his breath ghosting across your skin. “Go to sleep, (Y/N). We’ll see how you feel in the morning.”

Notes: He’s so cute y’all. (.づ◡﹏◡)づ. 

If you wanna see more of their interactions I have two things for you: 

1. Look Upon the Light - This is the main story I’ve written for the two of them. The moments in The Gap in the Door start after Chapter 7: Polaroid. 

2.  Send me some requests or themes, if you want! I’ve got another few chapters written for them, some are SFW and some are NSFW. I’ll add tags and triggers as needed and on a chapter by chapter basis. So, lemme know whatcha think! My ask box is open atm. 

[hey-there-love]

Foolish

Summary: Being the new kid is hard right? Try moving across the world to attend the elite hero course at U.A. Unfortunately following the path of straight and narrow is difficult when you find a blonde ball of death throwing twists in it. Nobody said it was easy. New experiences, new friends, new interests...what could go wrong?

Chapter 2: Oh You’re Feisty

Content Warnings: Adult Language, Cringy Situations

Word Count: 2.2K

Once you gathered yourself, you opened the door and peaked around, searching for any sign of life. Grateful you were by yourself, you began to search for towels. After they were located, you washed the grime from the long flight away.

Quickly you got dressed, brushed your hair, and began to apply a light coat of mascara. You began to sing to yourself to calm your nerves about meeting your new class mates.

“Are you singing Ariana Grande? I love her!” Someone squealed, rushing into the bathroom. You jumped at the voice and managed to hit your lid with the whole mascara wand. You clutched your chest and whipped your head around.

“Hey look! Twins!” The pink girl cracked a joke. You embarrassingly horse laughed because she wasn’t wrong. She had sweet deep eyes that were black and brown.

“I swear I think I’ll have a heart attack before I even start my classes here.” You shook your head and inspected the damage to your makeup. You ran your finger under the faucet and began to scrub your eyelid making the simple error into a huge smudge. You groaned and glanced back to her with pleading eyes.

“Here,” she began digging into a drawer, pulling out a pack of makeup wipes. “Uraraka usually keeps these in here.”

“I’m assuming you’re Mina, my new neighbor right?” You questioned, thankful as you wiped the makeup off.

“You’d be correct! It’s good to meet you Y/N. I can already tell we’re going to be fast friends. Cute jeans by the way.”

“Thanks! I got these from H&M. I literally bought every color , so if you ever wanna borrow a pair let me know.”

“I’ll definitely take you up on that offer! Are you ready? Dinner is almost done and I figured I’d come check on you.” She responded, taking a seat on the counter top next to you.

“I am. Just let me drop my stuff off in my room.” You said opting to give up on the mascara after your incident. You finished primping and picked your things up.

As you walked back to your room she began to question your previous statement. “Who else gave you a heart attack? You’ve only been here for an hour!”

“Oh, actually I was heading into the bathroom and I guess I wasn’t paying attention and I crashed right into a guy. I felt so bad.” You said, unlocking your room and setting your things down on the desk.

“It was probably Kirishima! He came back downstairs whenever I got up. ” She giggled and leaned against your door frame.

“Well he definitely laughed at me after he pulled my underwear off of my shoulder!” You said slapping yourself in the forehead.

“Oh my gosh!” Mina squealed. “He never said anything so I guess your secret it safe. I hope they were old lady underwear for his sake. He definitely gets flustered easily.”

“He didn’t blush in the least and it was a thong! I don’t even think I could look him in the eye! Wait what does he look like?” You asked examining yourself for a final time and spraying a little bit of body spray.

“Spiked red hair, sharp teeth, the cutest boy wonder smile ever.” She gushed. That definitely wasn’t who you encountered.

“No it wasn’t him then, he had a permanent look of disgust. ” Her eyes grew wide and your face dropped. “What?”

“KATSUKI FREAKING BAKUGO TOUCHED YOUR PANTIES?” She hollered, making your ears ring. You shushed her not wanting to relive the experience.

“Not so loud! I don’t need everyone to know about my underwear!” You cried out , cheeks heating up.

“That’s hilarious. King of Murder and Destruction Bakugo. Laid hands. On. Your. Thong.” You swore she was about fall over laughing.

“Do you think he said anything?” You covered your face, completely and utterly mortified.

“Maybe just Kirishima because they’re best bros, but he despises everyone else so you have nothing to worry about!”

You groaned. “Can we please forget that ever happened and go?” Pleading as you pushed her out the door.

“Sure thing bestie my lips are sealed.” Mina replied, mimicking a zip and locking her mouth. She then looped her arm through yours and made you skip to the elevator.

“Can you give me a quick run down of what I’m about to walk into?” You questioned as she pressed the button on the elevator.

“Well, the girls are the most awesome people you’ll ever meet. You’ve met Momo, but there’s Jiro, who has a great taste in tunes but kinda moody. Uraraka, the biggest ray of sunshine on the planet. Hakegure, who has the best personality ever. Tsu, is a little different, but is hilarious, and of course the greatest person you’ll ever meet...me!” She laughed, squeezing your arm.

“And the guys...well they’re guys of course. Kirishima, a total sweetheart and a feminist might I add. Midoryia, nice kid but villain magnet. Ayoma, he’s from France and I think he’s on the DL if you catch my drift. Absolutely at all costs stay away from Mineta. The little grape asshole with give you permanent taste of vomit in your mouth.” You crinkled your nose at the last comment. She continued, “Todoroki, which is the number one pro her Endeavor’s son and a total hottie.” She wagged her eyebrows making you laugh. “Shinso, who is the strong quiet type. Tokoyami, very respectful, the type you’d take home for Sunday dinner.”

“There’s Sero, he gives great advice he’s almost like the class therapist. Koda is a modern day Snow White and has the cutest bunny ever. Sato bakes like it’s nobody’s business and will literally make you gain 10 pounds. Then finally there’s the angry Pomeranian Bakugo.” Mina finished finally. You were pretty sure she just ran out of breath after trying to explain to you quickly before the elevator doors opened.

Mina guides you through the threshold where a bright banner read ‘Welcome to Class 3-A Y/N!’ “That’s so nice!” You said excitedly and pulled out your phone to snap a picture. Low music flowed through the large room as people mingled. No one seemed to notice that you two had joined the group. “Hello? The guest of honor is here!” Mina called out. Soon there were eyes centered on you. You waved slightly to the crowd.

You were met with bright grins and greetings. “Well hello gorgeous.” Someone spoke, you began to search for the voice. “Hey, I’m right here!” You looked slightly down and discovered a...vertically challenged boy staring at you. Well he was actually trying to stare at your boobs through your baggy sweatshirt.

“Um...hey? My eyes are up here dude.” You grimaced. Mina rolled her eyes.

“Oh I know this view is much sexier. I’m Minuro Mineta, class 3-A stud. What’s your name babe?” He wiggled his eye brows and blew you a kiss.

Ugh gross. You thought.

“This is Y/N. Back away now maggot or I’ll crush you like a bug.” Mina hissed.

“Ooooh. I’ve never been stepped on before, but if you’re doing it Mina I’d love to try.” He smirked back licking his lips. A blonde quickly rushed over and pushed Mineta back before Mina lunged at him.

“Whoa dude chill. Let her acclimate before you start being gross. I’m Denki Kaminari by the way.” He said sticking out his fist. You extended yours and fist bumped him.

“Hey, I’m Y/N nice to meet you.” You replied.

“Weren’t you interning with Hopewing back in the States? She totally rocks, I actually got her autograph whenever we went to the I-Expo a few years back.” Kaminari seemed pretty interested in the Pro Hero so you indulged him a little.

“Sure did, she taught me a whole lot about quirk control and management. Hopewing was a great influence on me, she’s kinda like my All Might I guess.” You laughed and scratched the back of your head.

“Super cool,” Kaminari replied, “Come meet the guys we were all actually interested in your quirk. Maybe you could show it off?” He grabbed your hand and lead you over to the couch where a few people sat talking. You looked over your shoulder at Mina who gave you a thumbs up.

“Guys, this is Y/N! She’s pretty cool!” Kaminari said eagerly. A chorus of greetings rang in your ears. “Kirishima, Sero, Todoroki, and Bakubro.” He pointed to each one of them and sat down on the arm of the couch, leaving you awkwardly standing infront of the group. You met Bakugo’s eyes for a split second before gaining a glare and quickly averted your eyes.

“So where are you from?” Kirishma questioned.

Before you could answer Bakugo spoke up, “The states dumbass where else?” He crossed his arms across his chest. His friend glanced at him and stuck his tongue out.

“Ignore him, he hasn’t eaten since this afternoon. He gets a little cranky when he doesn’t fed around the clock.” He reached across and pinched Bakugos cheek lightly.

“Remove your hand Shitty hair before I blast your ass.” Bakugo scowled.

“See?”

“Shitty hair...” He warned and his hand began to heat up emitting a small cloud of smoke. The group rolled their eyes.

“Anyways, I’m from Chicago, Illinois.” You answered before Bakugo could make his threat a reality. You weren’t really scared, but slightly intimidated by the man.

“Is that kinda like New York City?” Sero questioned thoughtfully.

“Kinda. Chicago isn’t nearly as big.”

“You must be tired from the flight over.” Todoroki spoke up noticing you were getting standing uncomfortablely. He stood up from the love seat he sat on, offering you his spot.

“It’s no biggie. I’m just over this jet lag.” You said, ushering him to sit back down.

“Well at least sit with me then? I’m respectful.” He continued before you took him up on his offer and sat down on the arm of the chair.

“Of course you are Icy-Hot.” Bakugo mocked. The comment being brushed off.

The hell was this dudes problem?

“The jet lag is kinda awful, but it’ll be nothing compared to this time change. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep much tonight, I might just finish unpacking everything.” You said leaning back and closing your eyes for a second.

“Well if you need some help I’d be more than happy to assist my floor neighbor.” Kirishma offered.

“I’d actually really like that I have a book shelf that needs to be put together and I have no handiness what so ever.” You smiled. You felt eyes on you and peaked at Bakugo from your peripheral.

“So, like I saying earlier...this quirk?” Kaminari spoke up breaking the encounter with Kirishma.

“Kaminari why do I feel like you only friended me for my quirk?” You joked sarcastically.

“I did not! I’m just saying I think you owe me a demonstration since I practically saved you from Mineta humping your leg.” Sero fake gagged.

“Fine fine. Todoroki, I’d scoot over just a little bit I don’t want to ruin your vision like mine.” You said. His eyes grew wide and squeezed himself into the opposite arm of the chair. You closed your eyes and began to relax your body then staring at your finger tip. Your finger began to glow.

“That’s it?” Bakugo said, unimpressed. All of a sudden your hand began to glow blue before plasma rose through your skin. You began to use your other hand to shape it into a sphere. You tossed it slightly in the air and caught it before absorbing it back into your hand. You smiled

“Whoa...” the group responded. “What’s that called?” Sero questioned.

Just as you were about to share a guy came running over. “You have Ultra Violence?” He yelled and planted himself sitting across from you on the edge of the coffee table.

“You know my quirk?” You asked propping your elbows on your knees.

“Of course! I can’t believe I didn’t put it together before you got here! You’re the daughter of Stage Four! The plasma hero! His whole body can change into plasma! Can you do that too?” He said as he pulled a notebook out of seemingly thin air.

“Damn Deku. I thought I burned that thing?” Bakugo said, nostrils flaring.

“Oh you did Kachan...multiple times.” The guy said showing off the burn edges. He nervously smiled.

“Put that weird shit away before I finish it.”

“I think it’s cool. I’d like to see it sometime.” You said motioning to his prized possession.

“Just cause you’re new doesn’t mean you have to kiss everyone’s ass, you know.” Bakugo retorted.

“Are you just jealous because I’m not kissing yours?” You countered, a sly smile spreading across your lips.

He paused, thinking of a response. Obviously flustered, “Tch, screw you newbie.”

“Jeez Bakugo, if you suck your teeth anymore they’ll go straight down your throat.”

It looks could kill, you’d be 6 feet under. A small amount of smoke began to rise from him until he huffed and stormed away.

“Well shit, I think she just might make it around here. She defused the bomb!” Kaminari clapped and grinned ear to ear. You sat back down feeling completely flushed.

“Dinner is served!” Iida called from the kitchen.

“Midoryia right?” You asked. The green haired boy nodded his head quickly. “We’ll talk later and I can answer all your questions.” You smiled kindly and placed a hand of his arm, squeezing lightly

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

She [10]

Warnings: non-consent sex (butt plug, vaginal sex); violence, spanking/whippinh

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: Steve takes control.

Note: Hope you enjoy the last chapter! 

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Steve

He walked around her and took another look at her ass. He could see a hint of the plug between her cheeks and his lashes fluttered hungrily. He came back around as the chain chafed down her stomach and she wriggled. Helpless, hopeless, she pulled with all her weight on the cuffs.

He grabbed one of the nipple clamps and pushed it even tighter around her flesh. She yelped and he released her as she stopped her struggle. Blood stained the silver, just a trickle, and he took a hot breath. He felt like a wolf, fangs bared and mouth salivating for his prey.

He looked down and watched his hands as they deftly worked at his belt. He unbuttoned his fly and pushed the zipper open. He paused and snaked the leather loose from the loops. He folded the belt in his hand and tested it against his palm. It sent a chill through him.

“N-no,” She gasped. “Please--”

He snapped the leather across her thigh and she gave a shrill shriek. She sobbed as she swung from the hook and fought to still herself on her tiptoes. 

“What did I tell you about that word?” He hit her other thigh and she gave another shout. He hit her stomach and she sputtered as the breath went out of her. “Well!”

“I--” Her eyes searched his. Sheer terror struck her and he saw the strength seep from her. “I’m sorry, Captain.”

His cheek twitched and he neared her. He tilted his head as he trailed the leather down her stomach.

“Good,” He licked his lip. “You’re a quick learner and the faster you learn, the better.”

He grabbed her shoulder and turned her. He rested the belt against her ass as he stepped around her and peeked at the lens. Assured that she was center stage, he drew back and lashed her. Hard. 

The strike reverberated around him and fed into the next. She let out noises he’d never heard before. Pure agony. Her feet slipped and he held her hip to keep her in place. He didn’t stop until she was sobbing. Until her head slumped in defeat and the welts on her ass were raised and some bleeding.

“Aw, no,” He cooed as he went around her. He grabbed her chin and lifted her head. Her tears streamed down her cheeks and dripped from her chin. “Don’t cry. You’re stronger than that.”

She tried to shake his hand away and he slapped her. The split in her lip began to well again. She gulped down her breath and her eyes rolled back. She was dizzy as she swayed and her head lolled. She sniffed and her feet scrambled beneath her until she could still herself.

“Ah, don’t you do that,” He grabbed her head and forced it up. “I’m not even close to done. If you pass out, I won’t stop.”

She nodded and he raised a brow.

“Yath, Captam,” She slurred and blood dribbled over her lip. She’d bitten her tongue.

He let her go and repositioned her again. The curve of her ass visible to the lens as he came up behind her. He rolled the top of his underwear down along with his jeans. He let out a moan as his cock brushed up against his boxer briefs. He pushed the denim and cotton to his thighs and stroked himself.

He brushed his tip against her tortured ass and she flinched. She moaned and the link of her cuffs clinked in the hook. He pressed his fingers between her cheeks and wiggled the plug. She whimpered and he slid his hand lower. He bent his knees and spread her folds with his finger and lined himself up with her entrance.

He paused. He was holding his breath and so was she. He rescinded his hand and latched onto her hip. He slammed into her so hard she was taken off her feet. She exclaimed and grunted through her teeth as she kicked in pain. 

“I told you,” He snarled. “That toy was nothing compared to me.”

She shook and her fingers wrapped around the hook above her. He grabbed her shoulders and wiggled his hips as he tested her limits. She was tight. Very tight. She whimpered at every little move.

He thrust once, so harshly that she was once more off the ground. He repeated the motion several times until she was trembling in pain. Or pleasure. The way her cunt clenched around him was delicious.

He moved more steadily against her, slamming into her hard enough to jolt the plug in her ass. Her whines became laboured and desperate. He felt her cum and the wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of her grew louder.

He leaned against her as he reached down to her leg. He grasped behind her knee and bent her leg up and then the other. He lifted her so she was hanging from the hook and impaled entirely by his cock. He held her like that as he hammered into her from below. Her voice was stuttered and strained.

He loved the sound. The slick squelch of him inside her, the broken cries of the woman at his mercy. And they were all for him. His little secret. His hobby. He crashed into her relentlessly and felt the ecstasy bubble in his core. 

He puffed as he felt the rise, too enamored to slow it. His flesh clapped against her as her juices dampened the front of his jeans. He squeezed her legs and bucked into her violently as he came. He bent his head and sank his teeth into her shoulder to keep from crying out. She yelped as he emptied himself inside of her.

When he was still, he let her legs down and she hung against him. He eased himself out of her and his cum spilled down her thigh and dripped onto the floor. He sighed and rounded her. He reached for the camera and removed it from the tripod. He pointed the lens at her face, her swollen cheek, her bloodied lips, her dazed eyes.

Then he turned her and showed her dripping cunt; a creamy mess. He cradled the camera in one hand and focused on her ass as he grabbed the stem of the plug. He began to pull it out but thought better of it as it was halfway out. He pushed it back in until her ring was tight around it once more.

“Actually, you can keep that in.” He said as he stood straight. “I’m not done with your cunt.”

🖋���

Steve had to keep from whistling as he walked through the halls of the compound. He doubted the man beside him would appreciate that. Nick Fury was never much for levity. And now was not the time for celebration; well not for what was left of the Avengers.

As they passed through the front doors, the familiar flash of cameras greeted them and Steve smiled. He looked around at the clamoring reporters. Not so troublesome as those paparazzi droning like flies. No, a pleasant little flock of birds waiting for him to dangle a worm.

“You sure about this?” Fury paused just outside. “It’s not too late.”

“No, I’m certain.” Steve preened. “It’s time.”

Fury huffed and stepped up to the podium, several microphones mounted before him. He flinched at the feedback which greeted him and he cleared his throat. The press quieted as he stared them down with his single stern eye.

“Good morning.” He said stiffly. “I am not one to mince words so I would like to get to the point of this conference and to hand this over to man who you all are here to see. So I will say it straight; we have brought you here today to bid farewell to one of our greatest heroes.” The crowd gasped and looked at each other and then Steve. “It is bittersweet for us but we wish Steve Rogers, Our Captain, the best in what is to come for him.”

Fury nodded and backed away. He waved Steve forward and the golden soldier happily took the spotlight. He smiled at the stunned crowd.

“It has been with a lot of deep and difficult consideration that I have decided that it is time for me to step aside. But do not mistake me. This is not because I am hiding or because I am running away from one little interview. In fact, I am thankful for that article because it made me see that my time has come and gone.” 

He looked around and took a breath.

“I am leaving behind a good team. They are brave, smart, loyal, hardworking, and devoted. I leave you in good hands, better hands. But that is not to say that I will leave you entirely. Should the day come that you need me or my shield, I will be here. I will do as I have always done.

“But in the meantime, I will do something else. I have chosen to take on a new crusade. Starting right her in New York. All across the five boroughs. My new project is called Sarah’s Sanctuary. An infrastructure of shelters, youth centres, and food banks to be opened throughout the city to support all those pushed to borders of society; elderly, adult, children; men, women, LGBTQ. It will offer specialised services to all; housing, counseling, addiction treatment to things as basic as daily meals.

“Because as you know, you can take the boy out of Brooklyn, but you can’t take Brooklyn out of the boy.”

A dozen voices called out at once. Steve beamed at the reporters as they shouted their questions, desperate for more. He retreated with a wave and left them to their cameras and notepads. Fury followed him inside. They were silent for different reasons as they walked the halls. Both with too much on their minds.

🖋️

When Steve got home, he wasn’t surprised to find even more photographers than before waiting at his door. He skirted past them and closed them out as he stepped inside his Brooklyn walk-up. He had everything he needed; right here. He locked the door and continued past the front room and to the kitchen.

He took his time, admired the fruits of his hard work. Two boiled eggs, toast and butter, and a small cup of yogurt with granola on a metal tray. He balanced it all with a tall glass of water and unlocked the door to the stairs. He descended and passed through the thicker door at the bottom. It locked behind him.

His eyes found her right away. She was curled in a ball on the thin futon, her arms wrapped around her legs. Her face was swollen and dried blood flaked away from her lips. She was still naked and shivered. Her eyes opened slowly but she didn’t move.

He stopped beside the mattress and set the tray down beside it. 

“Sit up.” He ordered.

She hesitated. Then slowly pushed herself to a sitting position. “Yeth, cap-tain,” She said through her clumsy lips. She flinched as her tender ass met the futon and the plug became more obvious. She covered her chest and kept her legs bent to shield herself.

“I brought you something to eat.” He said. She stared at the tray and frowned. “What?”

“Where are my clothes?” She asked and he growled.

“You wear whatever I give you or don’t give you.” He sneered. “And eat when I bring you food.”

“It’s cold in here,” She complained and reached for a slice of toast.

“You won’t be cold much longer,” He assured her. “Finish your meal, go get cleaned up, and I’ll make sure you’re sweating in no time.”

She blanched and gulped. She bit into the bread and looked at the floor. She winced again and he saw the glossiness in her eyes.

“I announced my resignation today,” He said with a grin. “So… you won.”

She looked at him, appalled. He snickered and paced the room.

“I’ll tell you what,” He turned to her and struck that famous stance. Hands on hips, squared jaw, stoic gaze. “If you do me a favour, I’ll get you a blanket.” He watched her swallow, realisation struck her harder than he had. “You see, I’m an easy man to work with. Once you figure that out, you’ll life will get a whole lot better.”

END

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I saw you mention that Jake is a lightweight, so here’s me begging that we get some drunk Jake content at some point 🥺😭💞 or at least get to hear what type of drunk he is, it’d make my friggin day

CW: Alcohol use

Tagging @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @endless-whump, @whumpfigure, @stxckfxck, @slaintetowhump

Takes place after the Safehouse Raid. Also features a fact about Chris that was mentioned on his intake paperwork but may have slipped your notice at the time!

Addie doesn't drink and she doesn't eat meat, so when Jake wants to chill with something to take the edge off before he has to really buckle down to study - and a giant burger with fries - he has to do that alone.

Well, not alone - he's never alone here, and wouldn't want to be. Antoni is responsible for the burgers and homemade fries, Leila is next door at Naomi's house watching some TV show and laughter drifts out Naomi's window loud enough that Jake can hear it all the way through theirs.

Leila’s probably going to move out soon, and they’ve gotten word of a bonded pair of rescues that might need to move into the space Krista and Leila have left behind. Might not be much longer they have this particular group together.

Well... Antoni and Chris probably won’t go anytime soon. Antoni has shown no interest, and Chris... probably wouldn’t last long. 

Nat's out at a group meeting, and Jake chose not to go with. He goes to fewer meetings, now, since the raid. He stays close to home, keeps his head down. Talks to a few people he knows really well, yeah, and meets up with the frat guy on campus for coffee and, like, talking shit out, but mostly Jake is pretty happy to just... stay here. Talk to the rescues, and Nat, and call his mother on the phone so she can disapprove of his life choices.

For now, Jake is eating, Antoni cleaning up from cooking, and Chris... Chris makes drinks.

"Did, um, did it for, for-for for Sir every day," Chris says brightly, as if talking about a trip to the zoo rather than the details of a daily horror. "Gin and, and tonic, cold as it gets without, um, without... being, being ice. Little, little bit of lemon, plus a, a, a a a twist of peel on the, the side. Or limes, he, he, he he he-he... he liked lime with gin a, a lot..."

"I don't like those, thanks, I don't even think we have gin." Jake puts his hands up in the air, smiling. He has a mostly empty Jack and Coke in front of him - second one, actually - and he feels mostly relaxed, a gentle warmth spreading through his shoulders and down his back. Less angry, and he’s angry all the time these days, not that he wasn’t before.

"Not a gin and tonic kind of guy."

Not like he'd drink the same thing as that goddamn asshole smarming up the fucking television anyway. The fucking Governor... Jake can’t even see him any longer, and unfortunately they’re going into an election year and the smug fuck’s all over the TV with his advertisements now. If Jake could just get ahold of that video of Chris... Jesus, he could end the Governor’s career, his whole life.

Maybe if he could find that video, it’d have some kind of identifying... something that could help them figure Chris out, more. His real name, whether or not he has any family... but no, the video had mentioned a legal guardian, and Chris - terrified and looking an inch from tears - had mentioned Aunt Jo, Joanne... Jake can’t figure it out. He’s missing something... something... important.

He hasn't told anyone else yet. Sooner or later, he'll have to. Chris first? Nat? Drive to an empty lot on the old factory district and scream to the fucking sky?

He hasn't decided yet.

He’d rather drink until he’s in a better mood, first.

"Well, well, well well well I trained Mixology, what do we have?" Chris asks, glancing back and forth between Jake taking a bite of his hamburger and Antoni leaning with his back against the counter, watching them with a slight smile in his slightly narrow face.

"You trained in-" Jake stops, his mouth is full, he needs a second. He chews and swallows, leaning on his elbow on the table. "You were trained to make drinks?"

Chris nods, green eyes locked on his, before he gives a little grin and bounces on the balls of his feet. "I, I liked those classes."

Jake and Antoni briefly meet eyes. Antoni shrugs. “Don’t look at me. I only took cooking classes and learned cleaning.”

“Well, maybe next you could make us something fancy you know how to do,” Jake says - the pride in Chris’s eyes, this is something he can do for them, is unmistakable and as uneasy as it makes him, part of him really wants to let Chris show off for once. “D’you know anything with vodka? Antoni keeps some in the freezer he thinks I don’t know about-”

“Don’t you dare,” Antoni says with a one-sided grin, pointing a finger at Jake. His barcode is visible in his T-shirt and jeans, in this one place where his arms can be bare without danger. Normally they’d have had it removed by now, but Antoni keeps refusing, not giving any reason. “I spent my money on good vodka, you don’t drink good vodka with anything but itself, Jasha.”

“Okay, okay. You’re no fun.” Jake pouts, a little, and Chris grins so brightly at the unfamiliar, rare expression of humor that Jake worries his face has to hurt. “I’d share my liquor with you, you know.”

“I don’t want it,” Antoni says primly, even sticking his nose in the air, and Jake laughs, shaking his head a little, picking up a fry and tossing it Chris’s direction. Chris catches it in midair and stuffs it in his mouth like it might disappear if he doesn't. “I don’t want your Jack Daniels swill, thank you very much.”

“My apologies, not all of us have your refined tastes.” 

“Apology accepted.”

Jake throws a fry at Antoni this time, and he only ducks to the side, the fry landing harmlessly in the sink. 

“You have terrible aim, Jasha.”

“You ducked! I’d’ve hit you right in you forehead if y’didn’t!” Oh, he’s starting to slur his words, pick back up the accent he’d had growing up, before he and his mom moved out here. Probably a sign he should stop drinking anyway - Chris made his Jack and Cokes stronger than he usually drinks them and being 6′3″ and made of muscle after working out since he was a teenager seems like it made him look like he can hold his liquor, but his liver never got that memo.

“Hey, Ant.” Jake clears his throat. “Antoni.”

“Yes?” Antoni grabs the bottle of vodka from the freezer, fogged and cloudy with frost, and slides into a chair, glancing over at Chris and patting the seat next to him, between Antoni and Jake. Chris grins and plops down into it so hard the chair creaks a little at the thump of his weight. He sits with his hands between his legs, palms resting on the wood of the chair, leaning slightly forward. It’s similar to and the opposite of his posture in the Contract Signing video, his eyes wide and bright, smiling slightly instead of crying, bouncing his feet off the ground in a constant blur of motion that allows the rest of him to be, largely, still. 

“What do I call you?”

“What?” Antoni blinks, confused, popping the corked top off the vodka bottle and taking a swig straight from it, not even bothering with a glass. He’s a little less refined with every week that passes, a little more casual in the way he holds himself, the way he sits, in the way an odd lilt has begun to seep into his syllables, harsher R’s but drawn-out, softer everything else. Jake wonders if he’s witnessing some kind of grand experiment, some days, in what it means to recover yourself and learn that you are something else entirely, in a way you could never have anticipated, than what you were made to be.

“What do I call you? Y’call Chris, ah, Chrisha-” Jake trips over the diminutive, his tongue struggling against the unfamiliar phrasing, and Antoni grins, taking another drink. Chris’s fingers skip up to the table, begin to sneak their way to the last bits of Jake’s second Jack and Coke. Jake catches him at it and puts on a stern face, shaking his head, picking the glass up and finishing the rest, watered down by melted ice to nearly nothing, by himself. He sets the glass down, the remaining ice clinking against itself. “No, man, you’re not 21 and I’m the closest thing to a responsible adult in this house right now.”

Chris drops his hand back between his legs again, but his smile doesn’t falter. If anything, it grows wider. “Oh, oh, okay, Jake. Maybe next, next time?”

“Turn 21,” Jake says, pretending for the moment that he himself wasn’t sneaking cheap beer behind the bleachers with the other guys back in high school. 

Chris is just testing, like always, but in different ways. Always testing to see if they’ll be like Sir in this way or that, learning about himself while he does it. Jake hasn’t let him down yet - and he has to hope he only ever lets Chris down in ways they can recover from. 

“... and you call me Jasha,” He continues speaking to Antoni. “So what do I call you?” 

“Hm.” Antoni thinks. “Ansha? I don’t know. I think...” His eyes go slightly distant, with the furrow of his thick eyebrows that suggests the pain that always comes with trying to consciously remember what was taken from him. “I think someone called me that once... Are we so close, you think?”

Jake shrugs. “I think so. Do you not?”

“I think we are, yes.” Antoni shrugs right back at him, then reaches out and pours a bit of the vodka over the remaining ice in Jake’s empty glass. “Jasha, what do I do if I don’t want to move out of the house?”

Jake blinks at him, taken aback. “What?”

“I don’t want to leave here. I like you, and I like our Chris, I would not want to leave him.” 

Chris bites down on his lower lip - not the practiced little nibble of teeth against sensitive skin he learned to weaponize, but a genuine attempt to hold back the surprised ecstatic smile trying to take him over. “You, you, you you-you-you-you-”

“I wouldn’t,” Antoni says softly. He reaches out to squeeze Chris’s shoulder, once, Chris leaning heavily into the touch. “I would not leave you willingly, Chrisha.”

Jake glances at Chris, bouncing in his seat, his head cocking back and forth in a kind of rhythm, feet tapping on the ground. Eternal whirlwind movement, he’d doing cartwheels on the lawn if they were outside. He won’t sit for long, he’ll be doing handstands in the living room or twisting himself in pretzels, getting out the energy that races through his muscles in any way he can. 

“I wouldn’t, either,” Jake says, thinking. He picks up the vodka Antoni poured for him and takes a sip - the vodka is weirdly smooth, runs down his throat with only the barest hint of fire. “Oh, this shit’s dangerous, isn’t it?”

“It is if you are you,” Antoni says, giving him a wicked little smile. “And not me.”

“Ha. Jackass.” Jake grins, to take the sting out, and catches the moment of worry fading from Chris’s face to be replaced with the smile he’s been wearing all along. “There's something I’ve thought about...”

“What?” Chris asks, cheerfully.

Jake looks at him, considering. Then he just shrugs on more time. “Nothin’. I’ll tell you later when I can talk about it without rambling all over the place. I’m too drunk for good conversation right now.”

“I, I, I liked this, this conversation,” Chris says, a little shyly. Jake bumps his foot against Chris’s under the table, and watches Chris toss his head with a smile, hair over his eyes falling to the side. 

“Yeah,” Jake says, taking another drink of the vodka, watching Antoni drink straight from the bottle and Chris sip the glass of Sprite and grenadine. Chris has only had a few sips, but the more he drinks, the bouncier he gets. “Yeah, I’m likin’ it, too. Like family dinner, except y’guys already ate and everyone but Chris is drinking.”

He holds up his glass, and Antoni clinks his entire bottle of vodka against it, and Chris clinks his Shirley Temple, and the three of them laugh. 

“To family dinner,” Antoni says cheerfully. “May it always include vodka.” 

Jake blinks, hearing the soft dip of the v into a different sound, almost a w. Vwahd-ka.

“To family dinner,” Jake says brightly, tossing another fry to Chris.

“To, to, to, to to to family,” Chris says, soft and nervous, as if he expects them to correct him, demand he take it back.

“That one is better,” Antoni says, pitching his voice low, too. “To family, Chrisha.”

Jake has an idea, but it might not be as safe for Chris as their situation is now.

He’s got one more year of school, and then he’ll have the education he needs plus three years of shelter life under his belt, and maybe... maybe he can ask Nat to help him pull off the one big dream Jake’s allowing himself to have. Let her use that fucking blood money she keeps in a bank account growing in bits and pieces each year since she left WRU to do something that’ll piss those fucking human traffickers off royally.

Maybe... maybe he can take Chris with him, and Antoni, too.  

“To family,” Jake says, louder than the other two, holds up his glass, and downs the rest of the vodka in one long drink. 

[annoyinglyjovialbird]

Voltron: Next Generation

Brittle Relations: III

Word Count: 2992

It took three days to prepare the ship for launch. Besides the repairs and harvesting and the weblum, a majority of the urgency came from Keith. When Keith was shot with tranquilizers, it was Kenny freaking out and rushing the team. If it ain't one Kogane, it's another. They would've tranquilized Kenny, but they needed him down in the engine room. The makeshift solar panels helped a lot in powering the ship, storing it all in backup generators. By the third day, it was only a review of systems and they took off. The teens learned from their mistakes and traveled through a wormhole on empty stomachs. 

On the other side of the wormhole, the teens rapidly checked every map. In front of them, there was only a deserted and broken hull of a planet. 

"Kova, where are we?" Shiro asked with arms at his sides. Kova had pulled up the maps Liz had sent to the main console, while simultaneously trying to triangulate Pidge's location. 

"Thayama," Kova replied, finally able to translate the triangle. "Once a satellite to a larger star, it became too cold to sustain life." 

"Why is it broken like that?" Caleb asked, staring between the lifeless hull in front of the window and the complete planet on the map. 

"I think it became so cold, the entire planet kind of," Liz replied, holding her hands together in a spherical shape. "Broke." She separated her hands to hold half-spheres. 

"That's the running theory," Cake nodded his head with hands under his chin. Kova began talking to Kenny over her earpiece, working together to steer the Coeus towards Pidge's location. 

"Hold!" She yelled, dropping the controls. Down in the engine room, Kenny turned off the thrusters. "Cake, Kenny, suit up, and let's go." 

"What." Cake and Kenny deadpanned, eyes comically wide. 

"No offense to either of you," Kova began. "You look more gullible than I do." Cake stared at Kova as she walked out, putting her helmet on as she was doing so. Cake looked around at the other four Paladins, who stared back at him expectedly. Slowly, Cake places a dramatic hand on his chest. Allie, who was across from him, nodded her head, confused. 

"Cake!" All of the Paladins jumped, but Cake was the only one who stood up, tripping up the stairs while pulling his helmet on. 

Together, the trio (ugh, unavoidable alliteration) boarded the Yellow Lion with a vague plan in Kova's mind. Kova directed Cake towards the signal, narrowly avoiding several big chunks of Thayama. 

So, uh, what's the plan?" Kenny asked as Yellow neared the bright orange triangle. 

"Since Cake and I can defend ourselves, you'll stay here until we need help." 

"That's offensive, Kova." 

"If we need you, your code word is 'dump'.

"'Dump'? Why 'dump'?" 

"Cake, find a place to land here." It's safe to assume Kova never answered Kenny's question. Yellow touched down on a giant chunk of land still attached to the bigger mass of the dead planet. Kova handed Kenny a screen after Cake led Kenny into the seat. 

"This is going to give you a status on the weblum." 

"How do you know where the weblum is?" 

"Kenny, not the time." Kova glared at Kenny through their screens, shutting him up. She looked up at Cake and nodded towards the door. Cake nodded in response, gripping his bayard.

On the surface, Thayama wasn't cold. There were no readings. Even though the suits warmed them, Kova and Cake could feel the chill of the strong wind. Turning on their floodlights did nothing to help them, but they continued forward. They could still see Yellow's eyes when the first blast came. It came in between the teens, making them duck. Kova dived to the ground, summoning her shield. Cake summoned his minigun, firing a warning shot. Another shot came at them, hitting three feet away from Kova's left. 

"Where are they?" Cake shouted over the wind. Kova looked down to check her screen, seeing the triangle point thirty feet ahead. 

"Not far!" She yelled back, pushing forward. Cake hefted his weapon up and pushed forward too. Three more shots were fired from the darkness at the teens, who continued forward. The shots kept missing, but when one hit a boulder, causing it to explode, it rushed the teens. 

At ten feet, the Yellow Lion was a dim blob in the distance, but the howling wind stopped. Kova deactivated her shield, stood up, and lifted her hands in surrender. Cake saw what she was doing, and did the same, except he held the deactivated bayard in his hand. 

Two figures approached the teens. Dark fabric hung from their shoulders, with a makeshift mask covering their blurry shields. Either they didn't see their armor from the fogginess of their dark screens, or they weren't the person they were looking for. 

"Who are you and what do you want?" One of the cloaked figures said, holding up an upgraded weapon. This cloaked figure was significantly shorter than the other, with their torn fabric cloak dragging on the ground. 

"We want to get you off of here," Kova answered, getting the cloaked figure's attention. They approached them with their gun, pointing the barrel directly at Kova's chest plate. 

"Why?" The figure inched closer. "Who sent you?" 

"No one sent us." Kova stepped forward. Only a step. "We followed a signal coming from this location." The second, taller cloaked figure scoffed, standing next to the first figure. 

"Not until you tell us who you are and what you're doing here." Kova gave Cake a side-glance, who didn't meet her eyes. Kenny took the silence to update Kova. 

"Weblum is approximately half-hour out." 

"Listen, we have to get you—" Kova tried walking forward again, but the first figure held up their gun. Now that Kova was having a little bit of a closer look, it looked more like a bazooka, if a bazooka was made of random bits and pieces. "My name is Kova, and I'm the Paladin of the Black Lion." The taller cloaked figure hadn't made a move, but the shorter figure had begun to shake their shoulders. They were trying to stop their laughter. "We have to get you out of this dump." 

"Why?" The taller figure asked, earning them a 'huh?' from the shorter figure. 

"There's a weblum en route to this planet." The wind started up again, pushing the teens to their side. Kova held up her arm to try to block some of the wind. "Let's go!" 

"No!" The first figure shouted over the wind, trying to hold onto the dark fabric over their face and the bazooka at the same time. From behind the teens, Kenny ran against the raging wind to reach Kova and Cake. 

"Weblum is twenty minutes out!" He shouted, diving in front of Kova and Kenny to make his face visible to the pair. "I'm Kenny, and we really have to get you both out of here! You know what a weblum is, right?" He looked at the shorter person, then at the taller person, hoping to garner some sympathy. 

"Matt?" The shorter figure says. "What are you doing here?" 

Jackpot. 

"Katie 'Pidge' Holt?" Kova asked, getting a hesitant head nod. "And you? Who are you?" 

"I'm Hunk." The taller figure said. "Hunk Garrett." 

"I'm Takashi Shirogane's daughter."

"Shiro?" Both said. Kova nodded.

"Let's go!" Kova turned, dragging Cake by the back of his collar. Kenny stood up, grabbing the elbows of the two people, and pulled them towards Yellow's general direction. 

"Wait!" Pidge shouted, turning around towards the area behind them. Both Kenny and Hunk yelled after her, but she paid no mind. Pidge ran back to Kenny after about thirty seconds with a satchel, and let Kenny lead them. 

"Hang on, everyone!" Cake yelled as soon as Kenny and his guests boarded Yellow. The ride in Yellow was pretty bumpy, jerking around through the wind. It bounced the passengers except for the pair in the cockpit around like balls. Pretty soon, the Yellow Lion escaped the strong winds of Thayama. The calm was disturbing after the winds. 

"Yellow to Coeus, do you read me?" Cake asked into his earpiece, ignoring Kova's sigh of relief as they flew towards the Coeus. 

"Coeus to Yellow, what's your status?" Caleb answered. 

"Mission successful. Prepare accommodations and treatment for two."

"Copy. Transport bay doors open." Caleb was right, and both Kova and Cake were grateful for it. Flying Yellow into the bay, they began unboarding and led the newcomers directly into the observation room. Keith's room was dark, but he turned over as they passed by. Allie and Liz were on standby in the med bay, hanging out in the doctor's office as Kova walked in to knock on the glass. Liz led Pidge into the observation room while Allie led Cake to the spare cot in the corner of the room. They asked them to remove their cloaks and suits, which they seemed hesitant about. That was where Cake, Kova, and Kenny left them, practically skipping to Shiro's office. 

"Dad." Kova was the first one into the room. Shiro looked up at the teens and 'adult' with a bored expression. An inverse image of Curtis with crossed arms was on the screen. He smiled at Shiro's expression, choosing to answer for him. 

"What's wrong, Kova?" Curtis said with a funny deep voice, trying to imitate Shiro. Shiro turned to glare at Curtis, who began snickering. 

"Was your mission successful?" Shiro asked the teens, ignoring his husband. 

"Yes sir." Kova straightened her back and crossed her wrists behind her back. "We successfully recovered Katie 'Pidge' Holt and Hunk Garrett." Shiro did a double-take at the names, pushing past the teens to head for the med bay. Kova came into her Pop's view, who began to ask her about her mission. She confirmed and answered every question. 

"Bridge to the crew, weblum crossing. Repeat, bridge to the crew, weblum is passing." Curtis's last words to Kova were a demand to take a video of the weblum. Together, Kenny, Kova, Cake, and Caleb watched the giant weblum cross in front of the Coeus, devouring the broken remains of Thayama. 

"So, uh, how did you know where the weblum was?" Kenny asked again, and Kova sighed. 

"You know how there's online tracking for dolphins and whales?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

"Researchers applied that to weblums." 

"You're joking."

"It took eighteen months to find them all." 

"Did they find them all?" Kenny asked, turning his head to look at Kova. She shook her head, still looking at the huge weblum. 

"We don't need any scaultrite, right?" Cake asked with a smile.

"Please, don't joke about that," Caleb said with a flat look. 

That night, everyone aboard the IGF Coeus went to bed without a heavy thought. The lights dimmed, and the Coeus sang a soft lullaby. 

Early the next morning, Kova was rubbing a towel over her wet hair, grimacing at the neon green on the fluffy towel. As her hair went up in a towel turban, she walked into the kitchen to find Liz and Cake standing over a huge pot in the middle of the floor. 

"Um, what are you doing?" Kova asked, coming to stand next to them. The metal pot was filled to the brim with water, with a wooden stick sticking out of it. The water shifted from white to pink, reflecting the light above the teens. 

"We tried to wash the poncho, since two people have already worn it without it ever being washed," Liz began, looking at Kova. 

"So we started washing it, and we left it over one of the air ducts." Cake finished, taking the stick and moving the fabric around. 

"The Coeus releases hot air if low temperatures are detected, and the metal heats up easily," Kova pointed out, staring at the pair. 

"We know." They answered at the same time, faces darkening. Cake kept stirring, lifting the poncho out of the water. It looked like a bad tie-dye, with patches of white and pink from the leftover dye. Staring at the patches, Kova had an idea. Taking the towel turban from her head, Kova fluffed her hair so it fell smoothly down her back. A little prong fell in front of her forehead, almost touching her nose. Two other locks of hair framed her face, curling next to her chin. Her hair was as dark as before, reaching her shoulders. The rest of her long hair was still bright green, ending with dark tips. 

"Would you guys mind getting the green out?" Kova asked. Wordlessly, Cake dropped the poncho and stick back into the water, furiously pushing it to the bottom while Liz grabbed a lonely chair in the corner of the room. It took a half-hour and not all of the dye came out of Kova's hair, but it was enough to dye the fabric bright green. Not as neon as before, but green enough. Kova was left with a patch of hair that looked brown, but at least it wasn't green anymore. As the dye settled into the fabric, the teens remarked how amazing the dye was, wondering what store Caleb had gotten it from. Cake and Kova deadpanned Liz, but Liz said nothing. 

Thank Allura it was early. 

Breakfast was served as usual, Kova looked for any leads regarding Yorak, Allie searched for the colonies, and Liz took care of the three patients. Kenny was excited to see his parents together again, but to avoid being physically restrained to a chair again, he occupied himself in the engine room. 

By lunch, Liz declared everyone healthy, if only dehydrated. The five teens walked down to the observation room, calling for Shiro and Kenny. 

Hunk sat on the bed in the furthest corner of the med bay, wearing a yellow shirt and black pants and boots. His hair had grown to shoulder length, tied back by an orange headband. Sideburns grew long his face, stopping short of his beard. He watched as the teens filed in, wearing their Paladin armor. Cake wanted to wear his, while the others wanted to wear their normal clothes, but Cake persisted. 

"I didn't think the Lions would appear again," Hunk said, a sad smile on his face. "Much less so soon." 

"What are you talking about, Hunk?" Pidge said from her observation room. Her door was open, unlike Keith's. She stood from her bed, and stared at the five teenagers. Kova had brushed her hair, a small braid holding back the prongs, and a bigger braid holding back the rest. Caleb had swept his hair to the side, crossing his arms next to Kova. Beside him, Liz had left her short brown hair down. Behind them, Cake wore an identical orange headband around his dark hair, while Allie returned to the dual braids on her head. 

"I was the Yellow Lion," Hunk said, pointing out Cake. He couldn't contain his excitement anymore. 

"I know, Dad," Cake said, tears beginning to fall from his eyes. Hunk stared at Cake while he pulled up a picture on his arm screen. It showed a smiling Hunk with a little Cake, smiles wide and eyes sparkling. Hunk wore a spacesuit, while little Cake wore a yellow shirt with a small sticker that read 'MY DAD IS A PALADIN'. Cake looked up from the picture to Hunk, who did the same. Before Hunk could stand, Cake ran into his father's arms, crying into his shoulder. The other Paladins, the current ones, barely had time to get out of the way. Kova was directly in Pidge's line of sight, but there was nothing there. 

"You said you were Shiro's kid, right?" Pidge asked, getting Kova and Caleb's attention. Pidge wore the bodysuit of her armor underneath the poncho, now sewn at the open ends to form short sleeves. The rest of the loose pocho was tied by the random long strip on the back of the poncho. 

"Yes, but there is someone you'd rather meet first," Kova said, smiling slyly. (ALLITERATION). Kova walked towards the other door, the other teens stepped back to give Pidge room to move around. Their grins were wide as Kova opened the door, turning on the lights. A pillow flew in the direction of her head, with muffled grumbling coming from the bed. Thankfully, Kenny had arrived. 

"Hey, we have someone for you to meet." More grumbling come from a mass of blankets on the bed, missing a pillow. Kova carefully stepped further into the room, ever closer to the bed. "C'mon, it'll be good for you." Even more grumbling, but at least Kova could hear it. She grabbed an edge of the blanket, pulling it away from the being's face. "Keith, that's a very rude thing to say to someone." Keith's dark hair barely peeked out of the white sheets, turning to glare at Kova. 

"Keith?" Pidge whispered, eyes wide. "Keith Kogane?" That was enough to lift Keith out of bed, to stare at the woman on the other side of the room. Kova stepped out of the way just as Keith launched out of bed to embrace Pidge. Crying, they fell to the floor. Pidge leaned into his shoulder, grabbing fistfuls of Keith's vest. Keith had one hand on Pidge's head, combed into her light brown hair, while the other easily wrapped around her back. Cake and Hunk stood together to watch the scene unfold, with Hunk's arm wrapped around Cake's shoulders. Kenny silently sobbed in the doorway, watching his parents. Ten years. He waited ten years. 

Kova smiled at the happy reunion, already wondering what they would do. Pidge's next words, though, struck a lightning bolt through Kova's heart. As Pidge sniffled, and Keith wiped his tears away, they pulled away from the other to meet each other's eyes. 

"Now," Pidge started, wiping away a tear. "Let's find our daughter."

[literallyjustanerd]

Hurts to Try, Hurts to Stop - Chapter 2

Writing angst and fluff to distract from your own steadily building anxiety and sense of impending doom is the biggest mood.  What can I say? Nightangel comforts me.

Kurt’s tail twitches restlessly over the bedroom carpet as he checks his phone for the third time in ten minutes. The screen is clear of any new messages, and he can see his wallpaper in full: his bright grin as Warren kisses his cheek, both of them bathed in the bright neon of the lights in their favourite restaurant. There is a sharp hiss as he sucks a breath in through his teeth, foot tapping in disquiet against the floor. Three text messages now, and two calls, all unanswered. He’d woken up alone, his back cold and missing the press of Warren’s chest against it. He knows what this means, exactly why Warren hasn’t answered.

First, the unassuming ‘good morning xx’ text, then the less optimistic ‘where did you go?’ ending in a final, resigned, ‘please don’t see him today.’He isn’t surprised that Warren has gone back to see his father, to endure another day of abuse, but the lack of surprise doesn’t come with a lack of disappointment. There is even a slight twinge of frustration bubbling deep in the pit of his stomach—the faintest rumble of thunder from an incoming storm.

           He jumps when Scott appears next to him, asking what Kurt’s frown is for. Kurt, as ever, dismisses it with a shake of his head, shoulders shifting with his sigh.

“It’s okay. It’s nothing,” he says. But Scott has had years to get to know Kurt, to come to recognise the slight shake in his voice and the quirk in his lips. Not to mention he has come to feel somewhat protective of Kurt, especially since he knows just the kind of grief Warren is capable of giving. He says nothing, but keeps his gaze through his glasses trained intently on Kurt. The lie withers under this scrutiny, and Kurt cracks easily with it.

“Warren’s gone back to see his dad,” he begins, voice like that of a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Their family has this… this big fancy lunch once a week, and Warren always goes, and it always ends in an argument and him feeling miserable.”

“And you’ve told him he shouldn’t be going?”

“Every time! And every time, he ends up back there.”

Scott sighs, leans back against the doorframe, and balls his hands in his pockets.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to tell you. Aside from, you know, what I’ve already told you before.”

Kurt dredges up a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and forces himself to stand, patting Scott’s shoulder as he passes by into the hallway.

“I know, Scott. But he’s my boyfriend. We love each other, and we’re not breaking up.”

There comes an unconvinced shrug from behind him.

“Just saying. Still think you could do better than that hot mess.”

“Scott.” There is a chuckle in Kurt’s voice, letting Scott know he has done his job. The pair together leave the bedroom behind, beginning the day a little late, but much better than if Kurt had been left to start it himself.

           “Sehr gut, jeder! That’s enough for today. You did wonderfully, I hope you had as much fun as I did!”

That is a lie. Kurt, in fact, hopes his students have had much more fun than he has. As the dozen or so young mutants he’d taken charge of that afternoon pass him towards the Danger Room’s exit, he once again is lost to his own thoughts, the unending debate that tugs at his mind.

It has been three months since he had put his name forward to handle a weekly Danger Room, and, overall, he has relished the experience. The students had taken a shine to him straight away, and the chance to share and teach his skills had proven both heartening and cathartic. Today, however, not even the bright, fresh young faces of his newest pupils are enough to dissuade him from obsessing over Warren, who has still not made an appearance despite the day being all but over.

Once the students have drained from the hall completely, he follows them up from the basement levels of the school and begins towards the living room, hoping to find some conversation to smother his sorrows with. He passes by the window, the last dregs of twilight bleeding into night, the trees an inky black tide lapping at the horizon. Another silhouette catches his attention, this one wheeling high above the treeline. Though barely visible in the dim, Kurt knows the arc of those wings too well, in too much excruciating detail to mistake the shape for anything else. Anyone else. Warren is out there, and he is agitated. His movements lack their usual grace and fluidity. He flies with the air of a man being pursued, and this observation drives a deep unease into Kurt’s chest, like a splinter worming its way beneath its skin that he has no hope of removing. For a moment, all frustration about Warren’s disappearance and foolishness vanishes, replaced only by dread of what horrors the man has endured today at the hands of his parents. The thought stays with him for the rest of the evening, along with the question of when Warren will choose to end his self-inflicted purgatory in the skies and return to Kurt’s waiting arms.

The mansion is dark for the most part when Warren touches down on the front steps. As usual, the heavy, ancient oak door creaks maddeningly loud as he opens it, drawing a wince from the man as he slips inside and locks it behind him. There are people still awake, almost certainly, but the mansion is big enough, its halls long and winding enough that he is able to take himself to his room unseen with ease. But as he nears the door to his refuge, his dull footfalls are cut off. There is a soft, yellow light streaming through the crack underneath the door. Shit. He had been hoping to forgo this confrontation, stayed out until the cold turned his wingtips numb to avoid it. And, of course, with the heightened sense of hearing that comes with his boyfriend’s (frankly adorable) pointed blue ears, he has almost definitely already heard Warren approaching. Dread building to a crescendo in his stomach, Warren makes the final few strides to their bedroom and opens the door.

If it hadn’t been for the situation they were in, the sight of Kurt before him would have filled Warren with warmth, with the addictive calmness and security that Kurt usually provides him with, tense disagreements about family notwithstanding. He is sitting up in bed, curled up against the night’s chill with a book in his lap, rich blue fur bathed in the incandescent light of a bedside lamp. He looks to Warren expectantly when he enters the room, lips parting slightly and then pressing back together as if he had begun to speak and thought better of it. He has grown more adamant lately, more determined not to enable Warren’s more avoidant and self-destructive behaviours. The silence stretches on, fraying and thinning like an overtaxed rope until Warren finally gives in, words leaving his lips with such force that he almost lurches forward.

“It’s not that fucking easy, okay?” he blurts. “I can’t just cut him off whenever I feel like it. That’s not how it works.”

“I didn’t say it was,” replies Kurt, his tone earnest if somewhat dry, with just enough force in it to spark a fresh wave of frustration in Warren.

“But you think it, don’t you? You think I should be able to just snap my fingers and be totally done with him!”

An exasperated sigh from Kurt has Warren feeling like a child again, scolded by a parent, a relative, a teacher, and infuriated by their condescension.

“You do!” he snaps before Kurt has gotten a single word out. The interruption causes Kurt to frown deeply, peeling back the covers and standing up with as much composure as he could muster.

“Is it so bad that I want you to get rid of the single worst influence in your life?”

“He’s my dad.”

“He’s said horrible things to you! He says them every time you see him! Homophobic things, mutophobic things. The number of times you’ve come home in tears because of him… He’s an awful, bigoted, ignorant man and you don’t deserve to have that in your life!”

“It’s more complicated than that! He’s really shitty to me, yeah, I’ll give you that. But he’s my dad. He’s family. And I keep thinking, I don’t know, maybe if I give him enough time... Look, I can’t just— If I tried to—” The words dry up in his mouth as quickly as they had come rushing to his mind, his building agitation tearing an animalistic growl from deep within his throat.

“I know how impossible it seems to give up on the idea of things getting better.” Kurt’s voice is a warning, stepping closer to Warren like a lion tamer, fighting his own anger as it tries to leap up in response to his partner’s. “Trust me, I know. I’ve been through it before. Which means I also know what I’m talking about when I say that taking the plunge and making the tough choices makes everything easier in the long run.”

           The words make sense. They sound perfectly reasonable. And this, more than anything, is what angers Warren the most. These perfect, reasonable words coming from a perfectly reasonable man, so well-adjusted and put-together and so fucking adult. The affront of having his own misjudgements and insecurities laid out for him is almost too much for him to bear, and it only hurts more that despite knowing deep down that Kurt is right, he cannot stop his own feelings. Even with full awareness of the problem, he is powerless to unravel it.

“He’s my dad,” he snarls, gaze affixed firmly to the floor, hot, shameful tears pricking the backs of his eyes.

“And? My father is a literal biblical demon! And my mother is… well, my mother.” “That’s different. You had Margali. You had your family in the circus.” “Until I came here. Then, I had a mother who couldn’t figure out whether she was evil or not and a father who wanted to use me and all my other half-demon siblings to tear a hole in the underworld.”

His breath trembles as he steps forward, catching Warren’s chin under one finger and raising it to meet his eyes. Through all his pent-up frustration, the anger and grief, he smiles. Meekly, faintly, but with enough tenderness to melt through all of Warren’s pride. In an instant, he is putty in Kurt’s hands once more, hanging precariously on the silence between them, desperate for shelter from the storm raging within him.

“But I also had the other X-Men. I had you. And whenever Mystique shows up, or I want to feel sorry for myself because of who my father is, I just remind myself that you guys are enough.” The tears are streaming freely down Kurt’s cheeks now, collecting in shivering droplets at his chin and falling onto Warren’s fingers, numb with the weight of all the emotions warring in his mind.

           Gradually, and then all at once, Warren is hit with an astounding exhaustion, one that reaches right to his bones. He gives in, gives up the reins he has clung so desperately to, and collapses into Kurt’s waiting arms. They catch him with all the strength in the world, holding his entire life afloat in their firm yet gentle grasp. Warren feels lips pressed against his ear, exults in the hot breath against his skin. The lips and the breath are accompanied by whispered words of comfort, reassurances and promises that everything would be okay. He loses himself to the simple, euphoric feeling—of being safe, of being loved, so absorbed in it that he cannot tell how much time has passed when Kurt lifts those wonderful lips from his ear, pressing them instead against Warren’s for just a moment before pulling back to gaze at Warren with searching eyes.

“I’m sorry I got so worked up,” he murmurs. “I just hate seeing you like this.” Warren nods, slow and short.

“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry. I’m sorry, too.”

           Wordlessly, the two of them climb under the covers, retreating all too readily into a world much smaller than the one that had sparked the argument between them. Warren hesitates when he tries to speak, throat catching involuntarily, a remnant of his pride, though the night’s events have left it weakened enough that he can easily push past it.

“I’ll… I’ll work on talking to dad less,” he says, and Kurt can tell that the words are a promise. “I can stop going to so many family things, stop answering all his stupid invasive questions.”

Kurt nods, pausing reverently before he replies.

“I think that’s a good idea. Take it at your own pace. We’ll see how things go.”

Warren can’t do a thing to help the great swell of adoration he feels at seeing those big, thoughtful yellow eyes, the crease of his brow. He presses his head to Kurt’s chest, and even then he feels he cannot get close enough to the man he has fallen so achingly hard for. His wings sweep up and out, blanketing Kurt on both sides, movements as careful and covetous as if he were handling a rare and precious gem.

“Kurt?”

The blue mutant is almost dreaming when the voice stirs him, the rumble of the chest atop his rousing him back to consciousness.

“Mm?”

“Thank you. For sticking with me. Putting up with me.”

“I don’t put up with anything, mein Engel. I love you. I’ll always want to help you when you’re struggling.”

Warren inhales sharply, lips pressed tightly together.

“If either of us is anything close to an angel, it’s definitely you,” he says with the softest hint of a laugh, winding his arms tighter around the warmth of the body he has positioned himself against. Kurt says nothing, heart suddenly bounding with something unplaceable. The feeling stays with him until he loses himself to sleep, lulled into a deep, peaceful rest by the rhythm of Warren’s breaths against his fur.

[thatfairyfangirl]

True Colors Chapter 11

You could hear the whispers of the locals as you paced through the lot of trees, taking in the smell of the sap and needles, your hand cradled snuggly in his just incase you ran into any of the neighbors...they all loved to gossip. All the while you pushed the thought of how well your fingers fit together into the furthest corner of your mind. Bucky, however was watching you more than the trees you were supposed to be picking one from, he loved how your eyes lit up at the ones you found promising.

“Thanks for this Buck. I don’t think we had a real tree in that house since I was maybe five..” As you spoke his fingers slipped from yours, the arm finding its way around your shoulder to keep you warm against his body.

“If it keeps you happy Doll.” He remarked with a smile, giving your chin a small pinch with his metalic hand. The brisk feel of the metal sent chills down your spine, fogging your brain with...feelings? Nah, it’s just Bucky, can’t be. “So do you see one you like?”

“That one.” You proclaimed pointing to the best one in proximity, trying your best to ignore the sensations being so close to him gave you, sure they will pass.

~ ~ ~ ~

Once the tree was home and up you lead him up to the attic. Remnants of your old studio could be seen in the dust riddled room that had long ago been dominated for storage use in your absence. You didn’t really mind though, you had much better back in New York now. Off in the corner was a big box labeled X-mas, torn and tattered tape barely keeping the box together.

“Mom, I know...but that’s how the kids wear their hair now.” You heard echoing from the lower floors of the home as you brought the decorations down, an old santa cap inside the box caught your eye. Bucky followed with one of his own, watching the once vibrant shades in your hair become muted and dull as you stopped in the middle of the stairs, biting your lower lip hearing your mother’s voice.

“And all that metal in her face…” Your nana’s old voice wabbled up the stairs prompting you to play with the ball of your piercing down there. “She’ll never amount to anything as long a-” You spun around reaching into the box to pull out the hat, slipping it over his head, the white puffball dangling in his face. Red was definitely his color. You both took a moment to smile before noticing the plastic sprig of mistletoe clinging to the fluff of the pompom. With a soft chortle you lifted yourself up on your toes. Bucky’s heart raced as he watched you inch closer and closer until your hand came to his face. As his arm reached out to pull you in he felt the slight tug of you removing the decoration.

“There, that’s better.” You smiled before taking his hand to lead him into the livingroom to attempt to tolerate your family.

~ ~ ~ ~

On the stove sat a kettle of homemade hot chocolate, filling the house with the heavenly smell. “You know Darling, your mother just doesn’t understand.” Nana explained as she showed you once again how to make the family cookie recipe. Showing you how to make them had become just as much of a tradition as eating them. “And to be honest I don’t understand either. After your father-” She waved her hand not wanting to talk about his death. “You just color your hair like a parrot and run off to New York...barely in your teens...You hurt her (Y/N).”

You rolled your eyes at the old woman’s ignorance, trying to be fair, knowing that her generation probably never heard of mutants…the times they are a-changin’. “Nana, you know that’s not true. I would have stayed if it was safe.” You sighed looking up to see Bucky through the door  building a fire in the livingroom, forgoing the usual tools, just using his hand to turn the wood, not like it would hurt the metal.... “And I always come back, just like I promised.”

“Well why don’t you get yourself a real job instead of playing around with that noise you call music? Then you can come see us on actual holidays.” The backhanded jab at your profession choice stung as you bit your lower lip, trying so hard to keep everything inside. “If you would just get rid of all that color,” she waved her hand around your head to indicate your hair, “you could get a real job.” And now it really felt like the holidays for you.

“Okay Nana, as much as I’ve enjoyed this talk,” the clock on the wall chimed, “ABC is showing the Christmas Classics today and Bucky’s never seen them.” You dusted off your hands,  grabbed 2 mugs and helped yourself before going to collect your soldier. “Come on Buck, time to learn about Christmas!”

Bucky looked up to you with a warm smile and just like that all the aggravation and headache your family caused you just melted right away as he stood. His strong fingers brushed against yours as he took the mug sending that chill down your spine again. “Doll you know I've had Christmas before. I happen to actually like Christmas. Spending time with those you lo-really care a lot about… you know we had Christmas back in the 40s right?”

You just stood there watching him for a moment in the sparkling light of the falling snow and the fire. The afternoon sun through the window causing the blue of his eyes to shine like you never could see in the city as he took his first sip of one of the only family recipes you were ever able to recreate. Shaking your head you perked yourself right back into your usual hyperactive self. “DID IT INCLUDE THE GRINCH? SNOOPY? I THINK NOT. Now hurry up! Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town is on first and I don’t want you to miss it!.”

Nana watched from the kitchen, shaking her head disapprovingly at the bionic arm. “You know mom, I’d be willing to bet that arm is the only reason she’s even interested in a monster like that.” Your mom muttered as she sat down, taking your place at the kitchen table to finish up the deserts you abandoned. Bucky paused for a moment at the stairs by the kitchen, the gears of his left arm whirring as his fist clenched, trying his best to push the comments out of his mind before heading down into the den. “Why couldn’t she have brought home Tony?” Yep. he definitely didn’t like that woman.

“I’m sorry Buck. I should have thought about how they would have reacted. Hell, it might have been easier if I just told her that there isn't a boyfriend because the last guy turned her daughter off of the whole idea of dating.” You sighed as you turned on the TV, snuggling into his chest on the couch just incase either of the two decided to come down and apologize to him...now that would be a christmas miracle. “I don’t know why I thought this year would be any different.” Bucky’s bionic arm wrapped around your waist as he pulled an afghan over the two of you. “You are seriously my new best friend for putting up with this shit.”

“Hey, it’s alright Doll.” His lips came down to your forehead as his arms wrapped tightly around you. “You think I’m not used to comments like that by now? Besides, at least now you have some moral support to get you through the trip.” With a half smile you let the words comfort you, melting into into the warmth of his body as Bucky recognized the voice of the narrator as Fred Astaire, bringing a nostalgic smile to his lips, seeing why you didn’t want him to miss it. He knew this was why he was tagging along, he knew you would have needed him. He just hoped that his plan of shut the hell up and take it was the right one. As you sat there silently watching the parts of your childhood that Bucky missed out on he became well aware of how close you two were, the feel of each breath you took against his chest as his fingers absentmindedly trailed against the curve of your waist, back and forth as you listened to his heart beat faster and faster. Though he tried to keep his mind on the movies all he could think about was how good you smelled. And as Rudolph sang about how much of a misfit he was Bucky’s mind began to race, questioning this friendship and if it should go further? If it ever even could? It would seem, as many times before, Tony had succeeded in getting under Bucky’s skin.

Tag List:

@sillydecoy​

Announcement from the writer:

I am also on Patreon! You can find me on Patreon HERE. I know, I know, it sounds like I am expecting you to pay for my writing but fear not! I will only be charging $1 a month, and even that is voluntary. The majority of my fics will be available for free. The $1 subscription will be for access to the really adult content stuff I have been sitting on such as what I have been calling “Blind Date’s Deleted Scene” and access to my discord AND early access to fics! As a bonus for you guys since you have been with me since the beginning of Blind Date I will grant you free access to the discord if you shoot me a message here on tumblr and ask.

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[mayaparker]

Paper Hearts;

Maya & @rydenbolt discuss the events of the Parade. And then get super off-topic because I’m the worst

Ryden spent good five minutes staring at his phone. Should he or should he not? Will it make things better or worse? Was it appropriate? Was it okay? Fuck it. Better than ignoring the whole deal like it didn’t matter to him. Like it didn’t matter that he had upset Maya and made her probably sad, definitely angry and worried for sure. Because who wouldn’t be? No one likes being stuck in the middle of a very awkward situation. A situation he helped create.

So, he gave Maya’s phone a ring, fingers drumming nervously over the headrest of the park bench he was sitting on. He wasn’t sure why he was so tense, listening to the phone ring into his ear more loudly than it usually would or was he just tripping that? He’d almost hung up but he held in there, keeping the phone pressed to his ear until someone picked up.

Setting down her coffee, Maya pulled her phone out of her pocket. People generally call her so she was a little concerned. The feeling didn’t exactly go away when she saw Ryden’s name on the screen. They had talked briefly the night before, but things still felt unsettled. She worried a little too that this was the goodbye he had promised her. A couple of other options came to mind as well, like that he needed to be bailed out of jail or something, but those were easiest to discard as her overactive anxious imagination. She answered it, “Hey you, what’s up?”

For a split second, he thought he’d stammer. Stupidly enough, Maya’s voice on the other side of the speaker surprised him. Which was stupid because he called her - who else would’ve picked up?? “Uh, um… ‘Sup?” He started lamely, clearing his throat, realizing he’d done it directly into the phone, moved it away and did it again before pressing the device back to his ear.

“Nothin’ much, just… sittin’. Um… You home?” Good going, Ryden. He usually didn’t get this flustered. He could carry on a conversation in the most awkward situations. He could talk to anyone and he always had something to say. Now, he just felt like this giant ball of awkwardness with nothing smart to talk about. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Trying again, hopefully this time with a little bit more success. “You okay, babe?”

Maya frowned although Ryden couldn’t see it. He sounded nervous, which she’d only seen once before. “Nothing much,” she replied. She almost laughed when he said the same, but didn’t. It was a reaction she guessed might make him more nervous. At his question she nodded, although he couldn’t see that either. “Yeah, I’m home,” she said before adding, “Just having my morning coffee.” Her lingering hangover meant she should probably be drinking water.

She waited for him to speak again, still not sure what this phone was about. Maya had yet to rule out that this was his goodbye. She sort of privately hoped that would make him nervous. When he finally spoke it was to ask her if she was okay. “Yeah, I’m okay. Are you okay?” she asked. This was probably about yesterday, she figured. That wasn’t the first time she embarrassed herself like that in public and very much doubted it would be her last. This meant she had long since figured out how to be okay after.

“Oh, um… Okay.” Wow. Cat got his tongue. Not only got it, but ran away to China with it, never to return and sell it to some Chinese black magic witches for catnip. Or something…

Deciding to stop beating around the bush, Ryden cleared his throat in one last attempt to sound less like a bumbling idiot. “Wanna, uh… Share that morning coffee with me? It’s fine if ya already drank it. You can, like, drink juice. Or we can have another cup, whatever.” He suggested, chewing on his bottom lip for a second.

“I’m good. I mean, some loud-ass bird woke me up super early, it had, like, the creepiest matin’ call ever, I freaked out. Couldn’t sleep after. Heh. So… come out and be a miserable mornin’ person with me?? I mean, it’s cool if ya have other plans. We can meet up for Pride later and chill. Or not. Whatever. Do you hate me now?? Am I… Was I a prick? Shit, okay, I can’t keep my mouth shut, I gotta ask, it’s drivin’ me crazy.” There, he blurted it out, like the idiot he was. Great transition there, Bolt. Super smooth.

Maya was about to tell him that she’d be happy to go out for a cup of coffee, but Ryden kept speaking. She waited. And there it was, the reason for his call and, she guessed, his nerves. Closing her eyes she nodded, glad to at least know what was going on. She took a moment to respond, deciding what might be best to say. “You were kind of a prick,” she settled on, “But I don’t hate you. And yeah, I could go for another cup of coffee. I just need to put on shoes and head over. Where do you want to meet?”

As she spoke she dumped the rest of her coffee mug down the drain. It was too hot at the moment to try and chug it. Cradling the phone between her head and shoulder, she rinsed it out. Maya was already decked out in her Pride outfit since it was a casual one. In fact it was quite the opposite of the elaborate paint she’d worn the night before which had taken at least an hour to get off in the shower.

“That… is debatable but, okay, I’ll take it for now.” Ryden mumbled, tone turning slightly defensive for a bit because, obviously, Ryden’s behavior was a reaction to something. As much of a wild card as he was, he still didn’t do things completely out of the blue with no justifiable reason whatsoever. Ryden’s reasons might not always be easy to understand but they were nevertheless there and if he got a chance to explain, awesome. And if not, who cares anyway. Though honestly, he wasn’t really good at explaining things in general. Especially to defend himself. He was so bad at this it just became easier to be the bad guy and let everyone think that. But there was one thing Ryden would not allow himself - and that was to be convinced that he was a bad guy when he wasn’t.

“Uh, does Bean Me Up work for you?” He asked, immensely relieved that she didn’t hate him. Though he wasn’t entirely sure why it would matter.

While Maya had never been called a prick she had been called a bitch more than a few times and ungrateful a greater number. Growing up she’d had something of a mouth on. She still did sometimes. People rarely asked her for her side of the story. This part of her past meant that she assumed Ryden had a reason for how he’d behaved. She always had after all. Fane’s reasons she’d talked out with him. She didn’t expect to talk either of them out of their dislike of each other. Especially not only for her sake. Mostly Maya just didn’t want to be caught in the middle, forced to choose sides.

She also didn’t respond to Ryden’s momentary defensiveness. It wouldn’t help. “Yeah, Bean Me Up, give me fifteen?” she replied. As she did she started up the stairs back to her room. She needed to put on shoes and do her make-up although neither would would take long.

Some fifteen minutes later, Ryden was at Bean Me Up, already occupying a table with a cup of black, sugared coffee in front of him, sipping on it while it was still hot.

The shock of electric blue from a couple of nights before was already entirely gone from his hair and he was back in his usual attire - dark shirt, tight ripped jeans and combat boots on. No jacket because it was obviously getting to hot for that shit.

Noticing Maya entering the coffee shop, he stood up so she’d notice him, giving her a little awkward wave.

Maya made it to the cafe just right about on time. She’d walked from the Savin Estate, which she usually did when coming in to town. Luckily it was a bright sunny day meaning she didn’t show up soaked. As she walked in she looked around the cozy room. Movement in the corner of the room caught her attention and she glanced over to see Ryden standing. He waved, still seeming nervous. She waved back, a little nervous herself.

After going up to the counter both to say hi to Tuah and to get herself a latte. She walked over to the table. Now that they were together in person she couldn’t help but feel anxious. These were not the kinds of conversations she was used to having. Previously there hadn’t really been enough people in her life to have this kind of issue. She wasn’t looking forward either to having to explain herself. The fact that she had completely panicked wasn’t really Ryden or Fane’s fault. Even she hadn’t known it would happen. If she had she would’ve removed herself from the situation before embarrassing herself.

“Sooooooo,” she said as she sat down, “I’m guessing we’re here to talk about the other day?” Maya said it like it was a question even though it wasn’t really. In her lap her fingers played with her rings, a nervous habit.

“Um… we can. Or we can just... Not. Whatever.” Ryden shrugged, acting like it didn’t matter anyway. She didn’t hate him and that was really all that mattered. They could never speak of it again if she wanted that, just as long as she didn’t hate him. He played with the cup of coffee he’d ordered, rolling it between his palms absently.

“You sure you’re cool now?” He asked again, just to make sure. Because honestly, out of everything else, this was his biggest concern.

They should probably talk about it. The adult thing to do was to talk about it. None of that made Maya actually want to talk about it. And yet it was better that then letting it fester and ruin whatever they had. She smiled when he asked if she was cool. Nodding, she replied, “Yeah, I’m cool. That is not the first time I’ve completely lost my shit in public. It’s not my favorite activity, but I am pretty good at recovering from it by now.” She sighed, “And I’m sorry too for it. I just...I don’t know suddenly it was like I was nine years old again listening outside the door as they argued about whether or not I should testify and…” Maya trailed off, shaking her head. The other cause she still didn’t know how to talk about. “Men arguing hasn’t ever really ended well for me, so I kind of freaked out. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault.”

She paused and added, “Well, it was someone’s fault, but they’re back in Salem.”

She picked up her mug and then set it back down again. Running her fingers through her hair, Maya sighed. “I do want to know what the hell happened,” she said, gaze and voice soft, “I did talk to Fane already. I won’t pretend I haven’t. But if I know anything it’s that there’s two sides and usually they’re both legit.” As for Fane she understood where he was coming from, understood the fear and concern that drove him. She didn’t a hundred percent agree with it, but she understood it. She suspected the same would be true of Ryden’s reasons.

“Girl, everyone freaks out from time to time. Heck, ya shoulda seen me when I got here. An SUV hit me and I stopped it with my bare hands and I freaked, yo. Panic attack and all, laboured breathin’ an’ all. Rein had to help me sit down on a trash can cause it happened in the middle of a street, heh. I do not envy Rein for havin’ to deal with me then.” But Ryden was easy to laugh about his troubles. He always had been. Things were only momentarily scary to him and after that, it was either ride or die. If he rode through it, he would laugh about it later cause it just seemed stupid to him to cry about it. Crying was wasting time and energy that could otherwise be used to solve the problem or overcome a hurdle. But Ryden didn’t know that sucking it up wasn’t always the best thing to do. Some things you just have to cry about. Or else one’s very health and mental state suffers. Emotions weren’t made to be bottled up. Controlled sometimes, sure, when appropriate but not reigned in, chained and buried. Because then, you get a perfectly healthy man having breathing issues over most trivial things. Insomnia. Loss of appetite. Depression, anxiety and an overall mess of a person. Ryden hadn’t cried once since Sarah died. And although he didn’t project his trauma on others, not in any direct way at least, he did project it onto himself by not letting himself heal through tears. If you don’t cry on the outside, you will find different ways to cry. And some of those ways were far worse than actually shedding a tear.

So it was totally cool to freak out in public. But… “Babe, ya do know that the argument wasn’t about you, right? I mean, yeah, sure. Standin’ there, watchin’ people argue ain’t really pleasant but… it was never about you. You did nothing wrong.” He reassured her, voice unusually soft for someone who was usually so loud and easy to draw attention.

Hearing what she decided they should talk about, Ryden leaned back against the chair he was sitting in, giving Maya a shrug. “A’ight. What exactly do ya wanna know?” She’d already told him that she spoke to Fane about it, which was normal and good, even. For her. But Ryden was pretty sure that the man had said all the nasty things he possibly could, in privacy where no one would be able to stop him. And now, Ryden was probably painted all black. Thus the fear of Maya possibly hating him now. Luckily that doesn’t seem to be the case after all.

“Now I gotta warn ya… I don’t do any o’that sweet talkin’ polite stick up yo ass bullshit. Whatever ya ask, I’ll tell ya things as they are or as I see ‘um, and it’s up to people who listen if they’ll be butthurt about it or not. Cause I ain’t tiptoeing. That ain’t me. Me don’t do that. I either tell you the truth, I tell you exactly what I think or I don’t talk at all. We don’t know each other that well, so I gotta put that out there. A little disclaimer. God knows I need one on me every time I open my mouth. So… I don’t mean to trash talk your dad, uh… I’m sure he’s an awesome dad to you and his family but… He was kinda trash to me. So if ya don’t want to hear that from a stranger, maybe better not continue this convo, ya dig? Up to you, babe.” He warned, letting it sit for a minute and settle, giving Maya time to process and rethink.

Maya gave a tired crooked smile. She didn’t argue that getting hit by a car or using the new powers, for lack of a better term, that had been forced on you were perfectly reasonable reasons to freak out in public. She, on the other hand, did it for what she considered silly reasons because of events that were long over, things she ought to just get over. She should be over it by now. After all she was safe now. There was no reason for her to be so afraid, for her mind to be a minefield of fight or flight responses. She didn’t have to fight so much anymore.

And yet her brain hadn’t completely left that place. Old habits, after all, died hard, especially those that had kept her alive.

Nodding, Maya replied, “No, yeah, I know. I didn’t think it was about me. I just…” She shrugged, not sure exactly what the trigger had been. “I don’t know, it felt too similar or I was just worried enough about the whole thing or…” she sighed, “I have no idea what actually tripped my brain. If I did I would’ve avoided it.” She shook her head, feeling guilty for managing to make it about her. That was what everyone was worried about now. Her. Instead of better and more worthy things.

She listened as Ryden gave his disclaimer. As she did she sipped her latte. Although she didn’t actually know him well she was not surprised to hear him say that he wouldn’t hold back what in thought in the interest of being polite. She had been there, after all, and listened to Ryden speak to Fane to his face. She’d hardly expected him to be more cautious with his words when Fane wasn’t around. She set her mug down. “That’s okay,” she replied, “I love the guy, but I’m not laboring under the delusion that he’s perfect.” Maya didn’t expect to entirely agree with whatever Ryden said, just as she hadn’t entirely agreed with Fane. Her disagreement didn’t make how either of them felt any less legitimate though. It would help her to know too.   

“No, it’s okay. Really.” Ryden once again attempted to reassure her and the way he was so casual about it and ready to move on and put it behind them was a telltale sign that he thought it was perfectly okay and didn’t require further explanation on Maya’s part. “Shit happens, we all get emotional and things sometimes get out of hand. No need for a reason, it just happened and now it’s over. Forget about it. Important thing is you good now.” And that was it, as far as he was concerned. He had no problems with it and it was resolved, unless Maya wanted to talk more about it. The other thing though was far from resolved���

“Now… as for what happened on that particular day… it was durin’ that blob shower thing. I was at a diner, just had lunch, was chillin’ and then I notice these… things falling like hail. And I was like, what the?? And I went out, was gonna get Princess parked somewhere else, so she wouldn’t get gunk all over her. And then somethin’... Somethin’ fell on my face. And after that everythin’ was… just a blur.”

“Like, at first, I couldn’t remember anythin’. Now it’s slowly comin’ back, when I think real hard about it. How I remember it was… I was trippin’ balls, babe. I saw shit. And I couldn’t snap out of it. Ya watched that movie? Mad Max Fury Road? It was like that, okay? I was trippin being in that fuckin’ movie. And it was kinda awesome, yeah, and I stole a car, whatever. But I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t… me at the time. I was someone else and the whole world was somethin’ else. Freakiest shit ever.”

“And then I suppose I drove off, trippin’ whatever I was trippin’ and Fane chased after me. On my bike. Prolly took it cause it was parked close. I don’t know. And yanno, like, if ya trippin’ ya in an action movie, shit will get down, okay. A car chase never ends good. We crashed into a lake cause he jumped on the car, tried to take over, I wouldn’t let him because at that point, I am pretty sure we were both crazy trippin’ and that was that. We were in a car accident. And when I came around it was all done. The car was sunk, my bike was off in a ditch a mile away which I will find out later and yer dad kinna got the worst of it. Point is… I could’ve bailed on ‘um. I could’ve been like, fuck this shit I’m outta here and honestly, confused and fuckin’ disoriented as I was, it woulda been a perfectly legit thing to do.”

“But I didn’t bail. I pick the guy up, I help him out, I try to sort things out and he pisses all over me, all the while. Okay, fine. Whatever. It was a scary situation, we were both shaken up, fine. But then, he comes at the Pride event, comes up to me and he’s like ’uuuh, and you are??’. Bitch, you know damn well who I am, I dragged your ass outta that lake the other night and you come up like you so important, ya can’t possibly know a trash like me?! For fuckin’ real? You wanna talk about disrespect? That’s some disrespect right there. Pssh.” Ryden huffed, shaking his head a little. He settled for a moment, just to regain his easily lost composure because damn, did just thinking about all this piss him off…

Maya listened as Ryden explained, from his point of view, what had happened. As she did she was careful not to compare his story to Fane’s. Although it was mostly the same with a few different details. At the end of it she felt the same as when she had spoken with Fane. The magic, and whoever had caused it, was to blame for the crash. She remembered how vivid her own hallucinations at the time had been. She and Iann had robbed a bank for Pete’s sake. At the same time though she could understand Fane’s fear. She knew more about fear than most. As for the parade she saw both sides as well. Fane with his fear and concern for his kids had come over. He had made clear he didn’t think that he intended to start anything, but Maya didn’t agree. Conscious or not she didn’t think Fane’s only motivation was curiosity.

In light of their first meeting Maya could understand too Ryden being annoyed, even angry when Fane didn’t seem to acknowledge who he was. Although she’d never felt it from Fane she knew that feeling all too well. She knew what it was like to be treated like trash or to feel like she was. The mouthing off wasn’t the best way to change it, but she’d given in to the same impulse. More than a few times. As she saw it the whole interaction came with baggage: Fane’s fear of being taken away from his family and Ryden’s history of being looked down on. None of which was easy to overcome. She still didn’t expected them to either, not when the only incentive was it making her life slightly easier.

For a long moment she said nothing. When she finally spoke it was soft, “Thank you, for telling me. For whatever it counts for, and I don’t expect that to be much, I don’t think that car accident was your fault. I told Fane as much, that I didn’t think it was entirely fair to be angry with you for it, given the magic involved.” She shrugged, “Didn’t convince him out of it, not that I expected it to. It’s a lot easier to be angry and I don’t expect I could convince either of you how worthy the other one is no matter how much I believe it.”

She played with her parents’ wedding bands, twisting them as she said the part she did think she could influence. “At the end of the day I’m...fuck it, I’m scared that someday I’m going to be asked to choose. I don’t have a lot of experience being caught between people,” Maya laughed, “That requires more people than have historically been in my life. But I don’t have some delusion that if I were to ask for it the two of you will be best friends. All I’m asking is that you don’t ask me to pick a side, don’t hate me for not choosing. I don’t want to lose either of you.”   

“Thank you!” Ryden exclaimed, raising his arms a little. Finally someone who didn’t think the whole shebang was his fault. Ryden was a lot of things and he for sure was not a perfect person. But when he wasn’t guilty, he wasn’t guilty. And with time, spending his life having few to no people standing up for him, he learned real good how to stand up for himself. His methods of defending his point weren’t always a perfect way to handle things, yes, but when Ryden Bolt wasn’t guilty, he will plead not guilty. And fuck everyone who says otherwise.

Taking a sip of his coffee, mostly to ease his frustration more than anything - and because cold coffee was just gross - Ryden gave another shrug. “I ain’t angry. Just kind of annoyed, I guess. Cause yanno, in the end, he’s not important to me. He can think whatever the fuck he wants. I don’t need his thanks, I don’t need his apology, never asked for any of that. I know who I am and I know what I do - and I know when I do good and when I do bad. That’s enough for me. Fuck ‘um. Sorry babe, but fuck ‘um. I got bigger problems than Fane Savin.”

And seriously, those problems could not compare. If this didn’t escalate, Ryden would’ve already moved on, to be honest. Focused on getting his bike fixed so he could move on as soon as possible and get out of town, keep moving. Keep the Man in Black at bay.

“I ain’t askin’ that.” Ryden stated, matter of factly. “And just like I told Faye, if your family makes ya feel like ya gotta choose, nothin’ I can do there. It’s somethin’ your family needs to fix. That’s family affairs and I ain’t touchin’ that. It wouldn’t be right for me to get involved there. It’s not my business.”

Maya nodded, not quite glad to hear it. She certainly didn’t wish bigger problems on him, but if he had them anyway it meant this wouldn’t be the problem she worried it might be. She still worried a little about a minor part of what Fane had said. He had classified both her and Dani’s relationships with Ryden as him messing about with them. Of course Maya couldn’t speak for Dani, but she didn’t think that any part of her personal interactions with Ryden were him simply messing about with her, if only because all the sex had been initially her suggestion. God, she hoped that wasn’t what it was. Either way Maya was an adult who could be friends, or more than friends, with whoever she chose. Any issue Fane had with that, or mistake he thought she was making, was between her and Fane. They could cross that bridge when they came to it. “Okay,” she said because clearly Ryden’s mind was made up. She didn’t mention the rest of it, pretty sure not only that it wouldn’t help matters, but that it didn’t matter.

She sighed and shook her head. “They didn’t either. I don’t know, it’s all in my head, I guess. Too many high school movies or…” she shrugged and looked down at the table, “Too many trials maybe.” It felt sometimes like her whole life had been a battle. She always fighting someone or something. The Shaws, the foster care system, certain foster families, her own brain more often than not. And she was tired of fighting. Maya took a deep breath before bringing her gaze back up to Ryden. “But now that I’ve heard it from both of you it’ll be a lot easier to talk myself out of being paranoid.” She smiled again, still crookedly. Her expression was self-deprecating. She knew that she didn’t react the way she was supposed to, that she worried too much, needed reassurance too often. “Also not my favorite activity, but I’ve gotten pretty good at it too.”

“Well, that’s good.” Ryden nodded but he’d already heard as much from Faye, who had approached him basically on the same day and talked things through with him. They were dealing with this as a family and although Ryden was glad, he still had no business in there and wasn’t about to butt in. Because that was simply something his meddling could never fix, no matter his good intentions.

“Good.” Ryden nodded again, reaching across the table to poke Maya’s hand playfully. A small smirk quirked his lips. “Fake it till ya make it, whatever~” Not that he actually thought Maya was being a fake or anything like that. Maya’s efforts were real and she was trying her best, for herself and others. Ryden could appreciate that kind of strength. But sometimes, we just fake strength for the ones we love. Maya had probably been doing a lot of that during her life, especially now for her new family, which she wished for from the bottom of her heart. And that was okay. In that context, putting up a bit of a front wasn’t a bad thing. But it was up to the family in question to know exactly what’s behind it.

There were things in her life that Maya had simply accepted and gotten used to. At some point it was too much to stay angry and she worried that would only leave her bitter and mean. Since arriving in Soapberry Springs less than a year ago several of her accepted truths had been proven false. The most easily noticed one was the family she was sure she would never have. The one that had snuck up on her was casual touch. She had long since gotten used to the only kind of physical affection she got being in the context of sex.

Here though that was no longer true. Therefore Maya smiled, expression softening when Ryden poked her hand. “Alright,” she said, “Now that I’m done being weird and emo can we talk about literally anything else? Maybe how you’ve secretly been a badass DJ this whole time? What other secret skills do you have?” She wanted to move past the whole thing and she thought that Ryden did too. Now that it was out in the open rather than festering in the dark she felt she could.

“Heh, ya mean aside from my mad tongue skills?” He stuck his tongue out at her, teeth catching on the piercing in there. “Yeah, just somethin’ I picked up along the way. Ummm…” He thought about her question for a second. “I can cook. Fix cars. Good at soccer. Sports in general. Good at brawlin’. Did some boxing and MMA for a little while. Rocky style, heh. I don’t know. Stuff.”

As he spoke, he reached out, his hand picking hers up, playing idly with her fingers and the rings on them, the same ones he’d noticed her fiddle with a lot. “What’s that? Somethin’ special? Gift from an ex?” He raised her hand to inspect the wedding bands she had on.

Maya laughed, “Well, that wasn’t a secret. At least not to me anyway.” She listened with interest as he described, vaguely, some of his other talents. The brawling didn’t surprise her, but she was curious as to his cooking skills. Of course that was always partially a professional interest. While her best skills were in baking at some point following a recipe was following a recipe. There was always something to be learned from other people though when it came to the kitchen. “Didn’t Rocky lose?” she teased.

She shook her head, “Nah, I only got the one ex and when he tried to give me a ring, I ran out of the restaurant.” She had to laugh and shake her head again. It had been a mess. The whole relationship really had been a mess. Well, not exactly. It had been normal and she desperately wanted normal at the time. As it turned out wanting to be with someone to be normal and not for them wasn’t a great foundation for love. He too had wanted her for something other than herself. They both recognized that now, although last she’d checked she still featured in his stand up routine. “They were my parents’. These and a recipe book my dad was writing are all I have left of them,” Maya explained. In an effort to save her daughter’s life her mom had destroyed all of the photos of the family. As for anything else much of it had gone into evidence or been lost over the years.

“Sometimes he lost, sometimes he won.” Ryden shrugged with a grin.

He couldn’t help cringing visibly, feeling kind of sorry for the guy who got stood up in the middle of a proposal apparently. “Yeesh… Couldn’t ya have at least, like, walked out? Ya had to run?” He chuckled, shaking his head at Maya. “So… You’ve been almost engaged, huh?” That was an interesting piece of info.

But he got a bit more serious as Maya spoke about her parents’ wedding rings. “Oh, that’s cute.” And he didn’t mean it in an undermining kind of way. It was really sweet. He took a better look at them but when he was done, he kept Maya’s hand on his, lowering them down on the table. “Yer dad was a cook? Or a baker too?”

Maya shook her head again, “I mean, I remember it as running, but I was wearing heels at the time, so technically I was probably walking. It was a shitshow, though. Someone told later that he uses it in his stand up routine and, like, if I hated him for that. But if we’re honest it’s only fair. Last time we talked it was so I could explicitly give him my blessing for it, in case anyone tried to give him shit.”

Making a face she considered for a moment, “Technically, but I don’t so much consider it that. I had no idea he was going to do it and can’t for the life of me figure out why he did. I think we really wanted to love each other, but we didn’t. I know I didn’t and I don’t think I ever let him know me enough for him to love me.” Her expression softened a little, “He was a good guy though. He’ll make someone else happy and I couldn’t have made him happy.” She shook her head. It had been a long time since she thought of Jonah. She hoped vaguely that he was well and made a mental note to see if she couldn’t find one of his routines on YouTube.

She wasn’t quite sure how she felt about it when Ryden didn’t let go of her hand. It felt nice certainly, but it wasn’t something she was used to. Carson had never held her hand except a few times to tug her out of the way of taxis or messenger bikes. It was nice though, so she didn’t pull her hand away. “Yeah, he was a baker, not by trade though. He was a lawyer by trade. But I got my magic from him. We used to spend whole Saturdays in the kitchen, making a mess usually. He was never good at making it pretty though, always said it mattered more what tasted like than what it looked like.” Her eyes were unfocused, staring off into the middle distance. She had few memories of her parents, but there were a few that she’d managed to hold onto through the years. Most of those featured the cozy kitchen she’d spent so many happy hours in before she’d lost them.

“Mmm. Heels. I like you in heels.” Ryden hummed, his smile turning a bit dreamy for a second. Because heels were hot, period. He chuckled then. “Yeah, at least give the guy that. Cause it is kind of funny. And it’s good he’s having a laugh about it now.”

Listening to her and Jonah’s story, Ryden nodded. “Shit happens. Relationships fall apart. You guys tried and prolly had some good times together and that was that. No one’s fault.” At least that was how Ryden saw it.

“Shiit, that’s adorable.” Ryden admitted with a huge grin, running his thumb over Maya’s knuckles. Maya would just have to get over Ryden being all touchy-feely. Because that was simply how Ryden was. He craved physical contact and it usually meant nothing more than a need for closeness, a need for physical touch. Maybe that was how he was brought up, having an overly affectionate mother. Or maybe that was just how he was, speaking even more loudly with his hands and his body than his already loud enough voice. Not touching someone he liked was like not looking them in the eyes for Ryden - rude and lonely. Like there are walls between people that don’t need to exist.

“And what did your momma do?” He asked, letting go of her hand now so he could pick up his coffee mug and sip on it.

Maya smiled as Ryden said that he liked her in heels. She thought briefly of She’s the Man where someone, she couldn’t remember who now, argued that heels were a man’s invention to make a woman’s butt look bigger and hard to run away. Of course the simple solution, on the one or two occasions she’d had a problem while in heels, she’d just taken them off.

“Well you know what they say, comedy is just tragedy plus time,” she joked. At first she hadn’t easily been able to joke about it either. While Maya was sure her own embarrassment was far outweighed by Jonah’s it had been mortifying for her too. She nodded at his summation of it. That relationship, her only real one, was one of the least tragic things in her life. At the end of the day they simply weren’t compatible and that wasn’t really anyone’s fault.

“Oh yeah, I was adorable back then,” she replied. If she had any pictures she would’ve offered to show him. However since they’re weren’t she just didn’t mention it. When he withdrew his hand she did the same a moment later. “She was a teacher, history at the high school in town. And a master illusionist, used to make fireworks shows out of her fingertips for the Fourth of July.” Maya took a deep breath and picked up her coffee. It was only lukewarm now, but she wasn’t about to waste something she’d paid for. “What about you?” she asked, “What’d your parents do?”

“Pretty much~” Ryden agreed with a happy chirp.

“Oh really? What happened to you?” He snickered, leaning back against the chair just in case Maya decided to take a swing at him for this.

“That is so awesome, oh my god.” Ryden was seriously impressed. He would’ve loved to see these fireworks. But when he was asked about his own parents, he just sort of shrugged. “Dad was good at not bein’ around. At all. Momma did everythin’ she could. She couldn’t finish school cause she got me. So she did whatever job was out there to keep us afloat. Now she’s a nurse and I think she’s happy with that. She likes that job. She did real good. Real proud of my momma~” He smirked before adding. “Not sure if she can say the same ‘bout me, I was a hell to raise, heh.”

Rolling her eyes, Maya replied, “I got super hot, obviously.” It was a joke, of course. She’d never considered herself exceptionally much of anything. It was among the facts she’d simply gotten used to in her life. She was average in all except a few tragic circumstances.  

“Yeah, they were awesome,” she agreed. Her tone became bittersweet as she said it. While she tried not to think about it sometimes, especially while on the topic, she wondered what she might’ve been like if they had lived. If even just one of them had lived. Her smile didn’t fade, but her dark eyes were sad. She didn’t mind talking them though, not in this context when they were all happy and alive.

Her expression sobered a little as Ryden talked about his own parents. She made a mental note about his dad, but quickly discarded any other thought about the man. If he had no interest in being important then it was easy for her to dismiss him. His mother therefore she reserved her curiosity for. She didn’t say that clearly his mom had a good job raising him. It sounded too corny even in her own head. Smiling, she replied, “Well, she sounds like a badass.” It was a compliment. Maya knew her fair share of strong women and single mothers always fell into that category. It was a difficult thing to raise a child, she knew, partially because all evidence said she herself was too difficult to raise. And to do it alone could only be so. “And how about this? If I ever met her I’ll put in a good word for you. Tell her about how you saved my ass from that freak snowstorm,” she added with a hint of teasing.

As a thought occurred to her her expression again grew serious. “Does she know?” Maya asked, “About your being a werewolf, I mean.” She paused for only half a second before reconsidering the question especially in light with the discomfort she’d witness for him on the topic. “Sorry, nevermind, I shouldn’t have asked that. It’s not my business.”  

“Well yeah… I guess that happened.” Ryden hummed but he took too long to admit it. It was intentional, of course, the hesitation meant to tease Maya.

His expression softened in response to her sad one. Of course, every child has love for their parents, no matter how they are. Maya obviously adored hers. Ryden could only imagine how much it hurt to lose them so early on.

On a lighter note, Ryden enjoyed gushing about people he adored, his mother included. “Hell yeah, baddest momma around. She’s one lioness of a woman.” He grinned widely, the sharp canines peeking out. “Don’t think she’ll believe ya any. She knows how I am, heh. For any good thing I’ve done, she knows there are at least ten times as many fuckups to follow.” He said it in a light tone, making it obvious that it was probably just a running joke between them.

At her next question, he shook his head. “Naw it’s fine. She don’t know. And I’d like to keep it that way. She’s um… out there, in the ‘human world’. She don’t know any of this shit. For the better. I, uh… don’t know how she’d handle it.”

Maya stuck her tongue out at him, “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were trying to rile me up.”

Even having just talked about her own parents she felt no jealousy or envy as Ryden talked about his mom. Her experience was thankfully not anywhere close to universal. She laughed when said that his mom wasn’t likely to to believe her. “Yeah, well considering I don’t even have a passport it wasn’t that great an offer anyway,” she replied, “I’d hold out for a better one.”

Her gratitude, not only that wasn’t angry with her for asking at but he’d also given her an answer, displayed itself clearly on her face. She nodded when he admitted that his mom didn’t know that he was a werewolf. Maya didn’t ask if his mom at least knew where he was. She’d already pushed her luck. Besides it wasn’t like he didn’t know his mother was probably worried about him. That was what parents did after all. Instead she said, “I didn’t tell anyone. When I left New York, god coming up on two years ago now. My best friend was ex-Army, a wolf too, and all I could think about was protecting him, getting as far away from Shaw and anyone he might hurt to get to me as possible. I didn’t contact any of them until I was safe, until Shaw was dead. So I get it, at least partially, is my point.”

“Me? Why, I’d never.” Ryden feigned shock at her accusation, following it up with a little gasp.

Then he’d sighed out a huff of relief, which was also feigned. “Good. Cause thinkin’ bout what you two would talk about behind my back just gives me the creepers. Brrr.” He shook himself, knowing that Genna would jump for the first opportunity to gossip about her own son. Show some baby pictures, though there weren’t many because they couldn’t exactly afford a camera. Show off his drawings when he was a kid, not that he was good at drawing - actually, he was terrible at it. Show off his medals and trophies he’d won, playing soccer in school and doing boxing when he was a bit older. Yup. That would be a seriously embarrassing experience. Not to mention she’d immediately assume Maya was his girlfriend and be all ecstatic about it. That… would be very awkward too, explaining that she’s not. And then, his momma would probably talk about Sarah and cry a little… Which would be the most awkward thing of all. So yes, it was a good thing Maya couldn’t meet Genna. Although Ryden knew they would instantly get along.

“It’s sort of easier that way, isn’t it?” He concluded, as Maya revealed her own experience on sharing what she was with other people. “Even if they end up resentin’ ya for it.”

“Because you know I would 100% bribe her with cupcakes to tell me embarrassing stories about you?” Maya teased. It was exactly what she would do if given the chance. She would make no real effort to meet his mom though. She had been told enough times that she was a bad influence both by parents directly and by kids who said they weren’t allowed to hang out with her anymore. Generally it was the more subtle cues than that, which told her she wasn’t wanted. In her experience parents rarely liked her. Ryden’s mom would probably think the same, that she was bad news.

She laughed almost bitterly, “I don’t know about easier. I don’t think there’s anything easy about it, but better, I guess, in the end.” It was an awful decision to have to make. Carson didn’t agree with hers, she knew that. Maya thought she was right though and certainly couldn’t fault herself for making it. Her fear had been no small motivating factor. She was proven right too, she felt, by Shaw’s eventual claims that he’d kidnapped people she cared about. If she had stayed that’s all that would’ve happened. “Carson doesn’t hate me, at least not for that. I’m not sure I can say the same for the fact I didn’t come back to New York,” she said, “But not for disappearing without a word.” There was no doubt in her mind that Ryden’s mother would forgive him. She didn’t think it would hurt to hear though that at least in her case she hadn’t been resented for the decision. Maybe not much, but a little.  

“Yeah, I know, that’s what I’m afraid of. She’s… too easy to bribe. Especially with cupcakes.” Ryden hummed, looking like he was about to change the topic. Which he did. Well, rather, Maya did and he just steered the conversation that way a bit further. “Yeah…” He agreed, with no small amount of some oppressive feeling weighing him down. It was a strange mix of guilt, fear and anticipation, anxiousness and tension. Kind of like those dreams when you’re running away from something through some intricate maze you cannot figure out, just barely making it in the end. It kind of felt like that, protecting people in that way. Complicated and just barely making it. “Well, that’s good. I mean, now that Shaw is dead, ya can always go visit Carson, right? Smooth things out?” He suggested because why not? The hunter was gone and Maya totally could, if she wanted to.

Just a few minutes ago she’d promised being weird and emo and somehow they’d gotten onto the at least mildly depressing topics anyway. She let them go. Shrugging about the prospect of returning to New York to visit Maya replied, “I will probably will at some point. But it’s a money issue. I’ve just about saved up for my own place and airplanes tickets aren’t cheap.” She also wasn’t entirely sure if she could face Carson, not after what she had done to Shaw. His guilt had never left him, but hers came and went. “Have you ever been?” she asked, “To New York, I mean.”

Well, Ryden could relate there. He barely had any money and he had a lot of traveling to do. Part of the reason why he stayed at Soapberry for this long. “It’ll happen. If you could save up for your own place, you can save up for a plane ticket.” He reasoned. Because real friends can wait, and late was better than never.

“Nope. First time across the pond. I’ve stopped at a few cities on my way here though, but not New York.” He admitted. Before the bite, Ryden hadn’t traveled much, if at all. There was just no money. The money he was spending now, running away from the Man in Black was the cash he and Sarah saved up for their own house and for a trip to Thailand. Because Sarah had always wanted to visit Thailand for some reason and Ryden worked day and night to take her there one day. Both hard working in their own way, doing their best, they saved up quite a lot. But Ryden didn’t need it now. And the only thing that came in handy was so he could run away from the one pursuing him using that money. And it was quickly running out.

Yet another reason he settled here for a bit longer than he’d initially intended to. He was still considering taking up another part time job along the ones he had at Erzebet’s and the Fainting Goat. “By the way… Does your bakery need any help? Anyone to do some grunt work, whatever?”

“Yeah, I might be able to convince him to come out here too. Sell him on some cool new werewolf friends,” Maya replied.

She couldn’t help, but get a little excited when Ryden said he hadn’t been. She loved New York. “Okay, I know I’m a walking cliche, but if you have the chance you should go. It really is magic,” she said. She could’ve sympathized with his dwindling funds. It was the same problem she’d had while on the run herself. In Madison she’d had to pawn her mother’s engagement ring. It was that event which caused her to wear so many rings now. While most of her magic was like her father’s she had a little skill in illusion. She bought a bunch of cheap rings at Forever 21 or somewhere similar and could trick pawn shops into thinking they were real gold. And there was of course the lack of money which had landed her in Fane’s house.

But if she had known that Ryden was running from someone she would’ve told him to stay and ask for help. After all running hadn’t saved her from Shaw. But she didn’t know so all Maya could do was respond to the actual question he asked, “I don’t know, but I can ask.”

“Hahaha sure, I’ll give him a tour, if I’m still around by then.” Ryden offered, though he knew he probably wouldn’t be.

On the topic of traveling to New York, Ryden wasn’t against it at all. “Hey, I’d love to travel anywhere. If I could, I’d travel the world. So sure, maybe, why not.” He grinned. Maybe that will kind of be his next destination. He haven’t decided yet. He was trying to be as unpredictable as possible, so the Man in Black wouldn’t catch a pattern.

“Would you? Cause that’d be awesome, I’d really appreciate it. Unless ya wouldn’t want to see my ugly mug at work too, that’s completely cool.”

Maya’s face dropped for half a second at the reminder that eventually Ryden would leave. Her gut response was to close herself off, lessen if she could the pain that would inevitably result from it. It was too late to avoid any pain. It was this fact which prompted her to reject her gut response. It was going to hurt anyway so she might as well have a good time beforehand. She recovered her expression quickly though. “You should. It’s an easy place to get lost in, the opposite of here,” she replied, “I used to love that about it.”

She nodded easily, “Yeah, no problem.” Laughing she added, “Honestly I get really focused at work, especially with the icing, so I might not even notice you’re there. But I can’t say I’d mind if i did.”

“Hah, I got lost here too! I suppose I’ll lose myself often in New York!” Ryden barked out a pleasant, contagious laughter, loving the idea of so many places to visit, so many places to go till you weren’t sure anymore where you’ve started and where you’re gonna end up at.

“Mmm, okay, I’ll easily get your attention if I steal some o’that icin’ straight off yer cupcakes~” He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively, this totally being an intentional pun. “Jokes aside, I would appreciate it. If it happens, great, if not, no biggie. I just need work, gonna take any chance I get.”

Maya laughed, “Honestly, I loved being lost in New York. Partially because you never really lost, its is a grid system. But I grew up in a fish bowl, so being lost in crowds, being no one it felt like I was finally free. And I love it here, don’t get me wrong. But there’s no getting lost in this town.” To her though Soapberry felt like a fish bowl only in the way all small towns did. That she didn’t mind so much.

Shaking her head she laughed again. “No to that with actual icing because I get real art up in that shit,” she replied, “And potentially yes to the inappropriate joke you’re making as soon as I figure exactly what it means.” Maya had the suspicion that his looking for more work wasn’t about keeping himself out of trouble or figuring out what career he wanted. She guess that it was to be able to pay his way out of town. She couldn’t claim to truly want to help him with that. She would though because it was obviously what he wanted. “But yeah, don’t worry about it. I’ll ask. My boss might be able to hook you up with the caterer. I hear they get a bunch of special events over the summer and probably need extra bartenders.”

“Lost in New York… Isn’t that, like, a title for a movie?” Ryden laughed with her but he could easily see what she meant. He was from a small community too and everyone in the hood knew everyone. And with a toxic environment, that just made everything worse. Traveling to places where no one knew him, where he could get lost, meet new people… Ryden had never felt more liberated in his entire life.The only problem was he wished Sarah was by his side, traveling with him.

“Oooh. Okay. Then I’ll just watch. Stand behind your back and breathe against your neck.” Giving her a look, he smirked wickedly. “You think about it, lovely. Think about it real hard when you’re home alone at night.”

“Okay, sweet! I’m down for that. You just let me know whenever.” Which was more than he could ask for, and he was really grateful that she was willing to put up an effort for him.

“A’ight, so, we had our coffee… What else o ya wanna do today? I’m off work. It’s cool if you got better things to do!”

[sylveonne]

Happy DWC Friday! How about this prompt? "Flashes of lighting across an angry sky"

thank you, darling!!!

1521 words

for @dadrunkwriting!

The night she arrived was perfectly dramatic. Despite everything else refusing to fit in this bizarre, alternate universe, the way the lightning flashed across an angry sky was poetic; it lent her drenched, hooded figure an air of confused desperation when she arrived in the center of Haven. Adhlea let her Fade Cloak dissipate as another bolt lit the distant skies. The few people still outside flinched at her sudden appearance out of  thin air. She paused for a few beats, allowed the thunder to roll ominously, and finally spoke, “Where is the Inquisitor?” loudly enough to startle the guards into action. They were still so very green in these early days. A random Dalish elf materializing in the center of a stronghold should’ve prompted a far swifter response. She forced a breath. They would get there. Cullen and Leliana would get them there. She forced an exhale. This world wouldn’t shatter.

The scuffle culminated in the huge chantry doors swinging open. First strode out the unmistakable Knight-Commander, followed by the always-charming ambassador, and then out stepped a stranger who wore her face. Almost, at least.

Her blonde hair was pulled high, braided in a few places and culminating into a ponytail that fell past her shoulders. Tan skin, lanky build, a vibrant emerald vallaslin for Dirthamen stretching its wings across her cheekbones, and clothes that didn’t quite fit. She held herself remarkably well for someone who had been thrust into a wholly unfamiliar environment and position. Adhlea had known what she was walking into-- it was hard not to, hearing the name pronounced strangely on shemlen tongues, the whispers of mage and elf and Herald and Dalish-- but even so...she paused, her cloak clenched in her hands. Leliana had stepped out from behind the Herald, eyes narrowed and head cocked ever so slightly to the side. Her spies had seen her during her time in Redcliffe, of course. She knew the uniforms, she knew the way that they stooped to search for something amidst the grass and dirt, she knew the vaguely identifying marks so that they wouldn’t accidentally kill a comrade. But she had remained

Taking in one last breath, she flipped her hood back and revealed her own face. The recognition was instantaneous; whatever mask the Herald wore was wiped away by shock. Adhlea smiled faintly. “Shenuvun,” she acknowledged, voice clear.

“Adhlea?” The question hung there, quavering, just as the clouds seemed to shift. A drizzle began to flow downwards and people began to scatter.

Faint laughter left her. “It seems the rain caught up with me. Shall we?” She inclined her head towards the chantry. Shenuvun seemed to recover from her brief paralysis and nodded quickly. The advisors glanced at each other in mild confusion, but they acquiesced without any complaints. Adhlea bounced up the familiar steps with a strange sense of nostalgia. The rain was beginning to fall colder and harder and would soon become sleet. Her lungs burned a little with the chill, a refreshing feeling, and then she was enfolded into the heat of the chantry’s halls. She spotted Vivienne among the pillars, a flash of Varric’s ponytail as he vanished into a room, and the rhythmic clink of Cassandra’s breastplate prefaced her appearance in the doorway of the war room. Her eyes narrowed at Adhlea’s approach, but Shenuvun was already waving a settling hand in her direction. The scene made her heart clench in the most bittersweet way.

The Herald and her advisors (plus Cassandra and Adhlea) all filed into the room at the far end of the chantry. Once they were all situated around the table, an awkward silence fell as Adhlea and Shenuvun stared at each other across the table. The chill of her sopping clothes was beginning to get to her, so Adhlea sighed and got the ball rolling by brushing a glowing palm over each side of her body, first the left, and then the right. Cullen had gone a bit more rigid, but before he could begin to sputter anything she had definitely heard before in her own time, a delicate hand touched his arm. He stilled, then Shenuvun retracted her hand. Her eyes, somehow even greener than her vallaslin (which was already as vibrant as a fresh, summer leaf after a summer storm), bore into Adhlea at her flagrant display of her abilities. Adhlea just gave a lopsided smile.

“Tell me, Adhlea: just how did you arrive in the Frostbacks when, last I heard, you and yours had been sighted on the coast just south of Markham?” Shenuvun finally asked.

Adhlea considered closing her eyes, but she doubted that would provide any sort of efficient coverage for the eyeroll that was fighting for existence against her manners. Her manners lost, as they usually did. She noticed the tilted head of Josephine and the smooth, mask-like expression Leliana wore. They were curious now, not just about her sudden appearance in the courtyard, but by the familiarity that was immediately shown despite it being obvious from their other interactions that they hadn’t seen each other in an unfathomably long time. She allowed one hip to rest against the war table. “Of course you would ask something as inane as that when we haven’t seen each other in over twenty years,” she teased, her tone gentle beneath the layer of playfulness. “Ma suledin.”

Shenuvun’s lips twitched up, clearly against her will, at the fond epithet. “Ma suledin,” she echoed, soft and reverent. Then she was circling around the table, leaving bemused comrades in her wake, and they were in each other’s arms. The fit was foreign and took a few movements for them to close around the other properly, and then Adhlea’s eyes began to well up as she felt the heat of Shenuvun’s own tears on her shoulder. “Ar lath ma,” she whispered, her blonde hair tickling Adhlea’s ear. A soft hum slipped from Adhlea, and she closed her eyes against the onslaught of emotion as she rubbed the other’s back.

It was Josephine who finally interrupted the moment. “Ah...Lady Lavellan?” When both heads perked and turned to the ambassador, Leliana’s expression brightened.

“Ah-hah, I was right,” she said, a quick smile briefly pausing around her lips as she asked, “You two are sisters, no? I was wondering why there was a Dalish elf staying at Redcliffe.”

“You were staying at Redcliffe?” Shenuvun asked, pulling back as her brows drew together. “Why didn’t you come here sooner?”

Having anticipated this, Adhlea’s brow raised challengingly as she pointed in the vague direction of the nearby mountaintop. “There’s kind of a hole in the sky, as I’m sure you’re aware. It also took a few days for news to spread to us of who the Herald of Andraste actually was.” She gave her sister’s shoulders a squeeze while Shenuvun looked abashed, then separated them to give her a good lookover. She was toned, especially in the arms, and Adhlea could detect a faint amount of...ice magic? Yes, that would explain why her aura had an almost crystallized quality to it. Unlike herself, Shenuvun didn’t bother with any makeup or paint. Her lips were naturally rosy like her own and didn’t actually need a stain of any kind (not that that ever stopped Adhlea). Nothing else seemed out of the ordinary aside from the ill-fitting clothes she had noticed outside. Her own had probably become unforgivably tarnished after the events at the Conclave though, so they would do for now. Satisfied, Adhlea released her and turned towards the others gathered. “In answer to your question, Lady Nightingale, yes: we are sisters. Twins, actually.” She grinned and tugged Shenuvun’s face over to press cheek-to-cheek.

Josephine nodded as she took in the similarities. Cassandra’s expression became less suspicious, Cullen looked vaguely ill at the prospect of another Lavellan roaming about, and Leliana appeared somewhat smug. Shenuvun, face hot, removed herself from the awkward comparison pose. “We were separated when we were young,” she began to explain. “Clan Lavellan was blessed with an excess of mages, so...we shared.”

Adhlea slid smoothly into the explanation. “It’s not actually as bad as it sounds! It just means that if one clan doesn’t have any new mages born but has a child around the same age in the clan, you just trade.” She shared a glance with Shenuvun, both knowing it unwise to reveal much more about the magical situations among the Dalish, and finished with, “Too many little mage children with only one fully-trained mage adult around? Not an ideal situation.” Cullen looked a little pale. She took pity on him and moved the conversation along. “I was the one who got traded, so we’d write letters back and forth once we were older and more curious about our origins, but we haven’t really met up since we were…” She paused and looked to Shenuvun again. “What, five? Six?”

Shenuvun nodded, her expression thoughtful. “I think so. Thereabouts,” she confirmed. “That aside, this is Adhlea, my twin sister. I trust her. She won’t bring any harm to us.”

Adhlea’s heart panged, and she truly hoped she wouldn’t.

[bloojayoolie]

Being Alone, Anaconda, and Andrew Bogut: One of the sweetest dogs. Good looking, lively, fun and very smart. Can be shy at first, affectionate, playful, soft and wiggly once warmed up yr öld 58 lbs gger aka Donkey ance @ Staten Island AC oping for a Ch SD# 24024 Me ****TO BE KILLED 4/27/18**** >>> ONE MORE POSTER FOR TIGGER aka DONKEY *** STAFF FAVORITE *** BRINDLE LOVE! <3 Handsome Donkey is looking for his next home. Will it be yours? A volunteer writes: Donkey is one of the sweetest boys I have met! He loves attention from people and sometimes he thinks he is a lap dog and doesn’t realize he weighs 58lbs. Staff members stated he is extremely intelligent and eager to learn commands... Staff Note: Tigger f.k.a. Donkey, was returned after 2 days in his adopter's home. The family dog did not get along with Tigger. Slow introductions and experience are a must when rescuing a shelter dog. They need de-compressing time before they are introduced to the family pet. But here Tigger and Roscoe are having fun in the shelter yard. Tigger is available to rescues only now. Another volunteer writes: Donkey is a very good looking dog ! He’s a fun energetic boy who just needs a good run to release some energy. Please take a look at him ! A staff member notes: Donkey is tired of the shelter life and would love to find a home. He continues to be wonderful with all staff members and is extremely happy out of the kennel. Volunteer Christopher Mancuso notes: That's my T-Donk!!!! <3 We'd play fetch in the ACC yard every day and he'd sit with me. He's a great dog. I pray he finds a good home. A volunteer writes on 04/26/18 I spent some time with Tigger the past couple of days, and each meeting was better than the last. Although Tigger is not the perfect dog, he has shown me his best side lately. Tigger is fearful of new people at first, so a slow approach is recommended when first meeting him. But once he warms up to you, he becomes affectionate, playful, soft and wiggly. Tigger is not a dog to stay indoors all day. He needs his exercise and daily attention. Tigger would fit best in a home with an active lifestyle, and lots of free time to spend with him. A nice yard would benefit Tigger and his new owner, so he can burn off his youthful energy. Tigger usually settles down nicely, after a good run in the shelter yard. His videos show his active and playful side, and then his relaxed, chill side. He loves the water, and it appears he can get along with other dogs with the right introduction. He needs to decompress for a few days, once he's in a new home, if he ever gets another chance. Tigger is so handsome in person, with beautiful markings. I've never seen brindle perfection on a dog like this before. Tigger is not afraid to get his paws dirty or wet, and he will go through puddles instead of walking around them. If Tigger can land in another home, all you will need is a ball or rope toy, and plenty of space. Take this guy to the beach, with ball or stick in hand, and watch this guy shine. Tigger is a very fun dog to hang out with. With the right family and the proper space, Tigger will shine again! Please watch Donkey`s adorable videos: https://www.facebook.com/sishelterdogs/videos/433662927062318/ Together with Puppy Roscoe <3 https://www.facebook.com/sishelterdogs/videos/442661582829119/ https://youtu.be/QPZm3B2Dzag https://youtu.be/Rg3skQnPFx0 https://youtu.be/4-wn4l_KObA https://youtu.be/4hz7lwjFvms Donkey aka Tigger ID# 24024 Staten Island ACC 1 year old, 58 lbs BROWN BRINDLE MALE RETURN after only 2 days/ the family dog did not get along with Donkey / Tigger Intake Date: April 18 Medical Behavior: *** SHELTER ASSESSMENT: RESCUE ONLY *** PROFILE and BEHAVIOR HISTORY Behavior History Behavior Assessment Behavior during intake: Dog seemed alert and curious of surroundings. He was very energetic roaming around the lobby. He allowed handling and to have a picture taken. Date of Intake: 4/11/2018 Spay/Neuter Status: Neutered Basic Information:: Tigger was adopted 2 days ago from SIACC but is being returned due to Tigger not getting along with the other dog. Previously lived with:: 1 adult, 1 senior How is this dog around strangers?: Neighbor stated that Tigger was friendly and outgoing. How is this dog around children?: Unknown How is this dog around other dogs?: There was another dog living in the home-large breed, unspayed female. Tigger would be in a crate as the other dog roamed free. Tigger would growl, snarl, & lunge @ the other dog. How is this dog around cats?: Unknown Resource guarding:: None reported Bite history:: Tigger had bite the neighbor as she was attempting to place him in the car. (04/11/2018) Housetrained:: Yes Energy level/descriptors:: High energy Has this dog ever had any medical issues?: No For a New Family to Know: Tigger is described as friendly, affectionate, excitable, and playful. When in the home, Tigger is the type to follow you around seeking attention. Tigger likes all kinds of toys but he likes stuffed toys and chew bones. Tigger was kept mostly indoors and was fed dry dog food. According to previous owner, Tigger is house-trained and would rarely have any accidents. When left alone in the home, Tigger would be well-behaved. Tigger knows commands sit and down. For exercise, she enjoyed slow & brisk walks & with the previous owner and playing in the yard. On the leash, Tigger can pull hard and he was never let off leash. Date of intake:: 4/11/2018 Spay/Neuter status:: No Means of surrender (length of time in previous home):: Owner surrender (adopted for two days) Previously lived with:: 1 adult, large female dog Behavior toward strangers:: Friendly, outgoing Behavior toward children:: Unknown Behavior toward dogs:: Lunge, snarl, growled at resident dog while he was crated Behavior toward cats:: unknown Resource guarding:: None reported Bite history:: On 4/11/18, Tigger was being placed into the car while the adopter was in the passenger seat crying and emotional. Tigger was observed to appear anxious and turned and nipped her lip. Housetrained:: Yes Energy level/descriptors:: Tigger is described as friendly, affectionate, excitable, and playful, with a high activity level. Summary (1):: When introduced to a large male through a gate, Tigger was wiggly, and curious, often sniffing the other dog. Tigger play bowed through the gate and began to whine. We did not have an appropriate helper dog to do an off leash interaction. Summary (2):: 4/25: When off leash with a male dog, Tigger was polite, social, playful, offered multiple play bows and was very tolerant when the other dog became very rambunctious. Tigger would often lay down and roll over when playing. ENERGY LEVEL:: Tigger is a young, enthusiastic, social dog who will need daily mental and physical activity to keep him engaged and exercised. We recommend long-lasting chews, food puzzles, and hide-and-seek games, in additional to physical exercise, to positively direct his energy and enthusiasm. Tigger displays a medium to high activity level in the care center. IN SHELTER OBSERVATIONS:: Tigger is barking, seeking attention in his kennel. When attempting to leash, he does try to bolt out. In the yard, Tigger is high energy, playing with toys, running around and seeking handlers attention. During an enrichment session in the lobby, Tigger was very social with all handlers. He often sits for treats and loves to ply fetch with plush toys and balls. Tigger is easy to leash but does avoid going back into his kennel but is easily coaxed with treats. 4/7/18: During an interaction with an adopter and their children, Tigger started hard barking, pulling towards them, followed by showing some teeth. 4/15: Tigger is as affectionate and sweet and he was before. Easy in and out of his kennel. In the yard, very affectionate, playful, brings toys and waits for staff to throw them. He sits for treats and often giving kisses to all staff, rolls over for belly rubs. Tigger has not displayed any concerning behaviors. 4/26: Tigger has become calmer and well behaved in his kennel. He will still rush out when the door is opened but allows to be leashed with no issues. Outside with staff, Tigger is very playful and social with everyone. He appears to really enjoy playing fetch especially with any toys that squeak, he will relinquish all toys and does not display any concerning behaviors. Tigger really loves water, he will often jump into the doggy pool. Tigger was introduced to a medium size 6 month old puppy. Tigger was social, playful, very gentle, tolerant when the puppy became pushy, rambunctious and mouthy. Tigger would often roll over for the puppy and engaged in play majority of the time. Going back into his kennel, Tigger still continues to pull unless he is clipped on the the harness loop on his chest, then he will walk with less pull. Tigger walks right into his kennel, lays down and allows staff to remove the leash. Tigger has been very social and has no displayed any concerning behaviors. BEHAVIOR DETERMINATION:: NEW HOPE ONLY Recommendations:: No children (under 13),Place with a New Hope partner Recommendations comments:: New Hope Only: Based on Tigger's bite history, in addition to his behavior towards the other dog in the previous home, we believe he would benefit best from placement with a rescue partner who can further assess his behavior in a stable home environment. No children (under 13): Due to the behavior seen in the care center, we feel that Tigger may be intimidated by children at this time. Tigger requires a slow approach and time to warm up. He should never be forced to interact with new people, and should be allowed to greet and initiate an interaction at his own pace. Potential challenges: : Fearful,Strength/leash pulling Potential challenges comments:: Fearful: Tigger may take some time to warm up to new people, though he shows good coping skills when uncomfortable (moving away). We feel he will do best with an experienced foster prepared to allow him to warm up to new people and new environments slowly. Use of treats and other rewards will help to make new experiences positive. Strength/leash pulling: Tigger is a large, strong dog with the capability to pull over an average adopter. His adopter must be prepared and able to handle a dog of this size and strength. It is recommended that he be walked on a front clip harness or head halter, which help diminish his strength through leverage, and that he be trained using positive reinforcement, reward based training to not pull on leash. ------------------------------------------ NOTES FIRST STAY / INTAKE 03/29/18 Donkey ID# 24024 Staten Island ACC 1 year old, 58 lbs BROWN BRINDLE MALE GREEN Medical Behavior FOUND STRAY Intake Date: 3/29/18 Medical Behavior: Green *** SHELTER ASSESSMENT: AVERAGE HOME *** BEHAVIOR NOTES: Means of surrender (length of time in previous home): Stray Summary (1): When introduced to a large male through a gate, Donkey was wiggly, and curious, often sniffing the other dog. Donkey play bowed through the gate and began to whine. We did not have an appropriate helper dog to do an off leash interaction. Date of intake: 29-Mar-2018 Summary: Alert, curious of surroundings, allowed all handling. Date of initial: 29-Mar-2018 Summary: Friendly, allowed all handling. ENERGY LEVEL: We have no history on Donkey so we cannot be certain of his behavior in a home environment. However, he is a young, enthusiastic, social dog who will need daily mental and physical activity to keep him engaged and exercised. We recommend long-lasting chews, food puzzles, and hide-and-seek games, in additional to physical exercise, to positively direct his energy and enthusiasm. Donkey displays a medium to high activity level in the care center. IN SHELTER OBSERVATIONS: Donkey is barking, seeking attention in his kennel. When attempting to leash, he does try to bolt out. In the yard, Donkey is high energy, playing with toys, running around and seeking handlers attention. During an enrichment session in the lobby, Donkey was very social with all handlers. He often sits for treats and loves to ply fetch with plush toys and balls. Donkey is easy to leash but does avoid going back into his kennel but is easily coaxed with treats. 4/7/18: During an interaction with an adopter and their children, Donkey started hard barking, pulling towards them, followed by showing some teeth. ENRICHMENT Donkey is barking, seeking attention in his kennel. When attempting to leash, he does try to bolt out. In the yard, Donkey is high energy, playing with toys, running around and seeking handlers attention. During an enrichment session in the lobby, Donkey was very social with all handlers. He often sits for treats and loves to ply fetch with plush toys and balls. Donkey is easy to leash but does pump the break when going back into his kennel. ENRICHMENT 4/7/2018 In his Kennel Donkey is alert. Seeing me, his tails began to wag, he barked for attention. Donkey was easy to leash. Donkey is eager to get out of his kennel and go outside so he does pull on leash and would benefit from a harness. In the yard he was curious and walked around for a bit sniffing everything. On limited activity due to recent surgery, Donkey was not his typical high energy self. (We have been playing "fetch" prior to his surgery) Today, he was more mellow, just laying down, enjoy the sun and the outside. Donkey gave me no problem putting him back into his kennel. BEHAVIOR DETERMINATION: EXPERIENCE (suitable for an adopter with some previous dog experience, especially with the behaviors outlined below) Potential challenges: Strength/leash pulling No children (under 13) Potential challenges comments: Strenght/leash pulling Donkey is a large, strong dog with the capability to pull over an average adopter. His adopter must be prepared and able to handle a dog of this size and strength. It is recommended that he be walked on a front clip harness or head halter, which help diminish his strength through leverage, and that he be trained using positive reinforcement, reward based training to not pull on leash. No children (under 13) Due to the behavior seen in the care center, we feel that Donkey may be intimidated by young children. He needs a slow approach and time to warm up. He should never be forced to interact with new people, and should be allowed to greet and initiate an interaction at his own pace. Older, gentle children should have an in-depth interaction prior to adoption. MEDICAL EXAM NOTES 6-Apr-2018 LVT Intake PE: Exam & surgery performed by Dr. 1385 Canine neuter Anesthesia - __0.59__mL Telazol and 0.16ml Dexdomitor induction. Intubated. Isoflurane/O2 maint. Pre-medication: __2.3_mL Rimadyl Inj. and _2.6__mL Buprenorphine Inj. for pain management. Sx. - Routine canine pre-scrotal castration. Used PDS for circumferential and transfixing ligatures. Closed the subcutaneous and intradermal layers with PDS. Applied surgical glue to the skin. Green linear tattoo placed lateral to incision. Local Anesthetic Blocks: Lidocaine: 1.3ml Intra-testicular block 6-Apr-2018 Pre-Op Exam Subjective: pre-neuter exam; barking frequently in kennel Objective BCS 5/9 EENT: Eyes clear, ears clean, no nasal or ocular discharge noted Oral Exam: clean adult teeth PLN: No enlargements noted H/L: NSR, NMA, CRT < 2, Lungs clear, eupneic ABD: Non painful, no masses palpated U/G: MI, 2 descended testicles MSI: Ambulatory x 4, skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat CNS: Mentation appropriate - no signs of neurologic abnormalities Assessment appears healthy Plan: neuter today start trazadone 100 mg PO SID x 5 days and recheck 3-Apr-2018 DVM Intake Exam Estimated age: 1 year History : stray Subjective: Observed Behavior - growled during exam Evidence of Cruelty seen - no Evidence of Trauma seen - no Objective BCS 5/9 EENT: Eyes clear, ears clean, no nasal or ocular discharge noted Oral Exam: muzzled, no oral exam PLN: No enlargements noted H/L: NSR, NMA, CRT < 2, Lungs clear, eupneic ABD: Non painful, no masses palpated U/G: MI, 2 descended testicles MSI: Ambulatory x 4, skin free of parasites, no masses noted, healthy hair coat CNS: Mentation appropriate - no signs of neurologic abnormalities Assessment appears healthy Prognosis: good Plan: SURGERY: Okay for surgery 29-Mar-2018 LVT Intake Scan negative; BARH; AMBx4; Friendly,allowed handling; MAle~1yr; EENT:WNL; No fleas seen; Nosf * TO FOSTER OR ADOPT * If you would like to adopt a dog on our “To Be Killed” list, and you CAN get to the shelter in person to complete the adoption process *within 48 hours of reserve*, you can reserve the dog online until noon on the day they are scheduled to die. We have provided the Brooklyn, Staten Island and Manhattan information below. Adoption hours at these facilities is Noon – 8:00 p.m. (6:30 on weekends) HOW TO RESERVE A “TO BE KILLED” DOG ONLINE (only for those who can get to the shelter IN PERSON to complete the adoption process, and only for the dogs on the list NOT marked New Hope Rescue Only). Follow our Step by Step directions below! *PLEASE NOTE – YOU MUST USE A PC OR TABLET – PHONE RESERVES WILL NOT WORK! ** STEP 1: CLICK ON THIS RESERVE LINK: https://newhope.shelterbuddy.com/Animal/List Step 2: Go to the red menu button on the top right corner, click register and fill in your info. Step 3: Go to your email and verify account Step 4: Go back to the website, click the menu button and view available dogs Step 5: Scroll to the animal you are interested and click reserve STEP 6 ( MOST IMPORTANT STEP ): GO TO THE MENU AGAIN AND VIEW YOUR CART. THE ANIMAL SHOULD NOW BE IN YOUR CART! Step 7: Fill in your credit card info and complete transaction Animal Care Centers of NYC (ACC) nycacc.org HOW TO FOSTER OR ADOPT IF YOU *CANNOT* GET TO THE SHELTER IN PERSON, OR IF THE DOG IS NEW HOPE RESCUE ONLY! You must live within 3 – 4 hours of NY, NJ, PA, CT, RI, DE, MD, MA, NH, VT, ME or Norther VA. Please PM our page for assistance. You will need to fill out applications with a New Hope Rescue Partner to foster or adopt a dog on the To Be Killed list, including those labelled Rescue Only. Hurry please, time is short, and the Rescues need time to process the applications. Shelter contact information Phone number (212) 788-4000 Email adoption@nycacc.org Shelter Addresses: Brooklyn Shelter: 2336 Linden Boulevard Brooklyn, NY 11208 Manhattan Shelter: 326 East 110 St. New York, NY 10029 Staten Island Shelter: 3139 Veterans Road West Staten Island, NY 10309

[cutegirlmayra]

I ordered a andrew proposing to akko and i got a extra large order of humor with a side of sassy sucy, i would like to now order a non magic acedent proposal with a pintch of sassy sucy, with a side of fluff and time skip to wedding to dring (it can be connected to the first one if you want)

I think I have an idea, but Magic may be used, just not for the proposal XD You can’t have a Little Witch episode without magic! lol

Prompt:

After the incident, a lot of news about the growing witch community and charities to keep the school going became very popular and the interest of the community began to support their cause.

Thanks to the school, and Akko’s friends, they were able to hold special events and entertain the public with magic demonstrations.

Although looked down upon by prestigious witch families, it seemed the issue was becoming more and more discussed and even encouraged funding from other cities and states for supporting the school.

Akko was getting fired up with all the shows they put on for fundraising, and she even got a small taste of her dream of being the next Chariot!

However…

“Did you hear?”

“Yes! I wonder what he’s doing here?”

“It couldn’t be a political matter, could it?”

The students were all in a buzz, though Akko could care less, having her head down lazily with a frowning pout on her desk as her eyes shifted to the girls whispering.

“…Emmm.. Why are we never in the loop?” she whined, before yawning as Lotte smiled down at her, looking away from her open book a moment.

“I wouldn’t let it bother you too much, Akko. Sometimes, it’s better to stay out of the drama.”

“Unless you’re the starter of the drama.” Suzy nonchalantly commented, as Akko slightly glared across from Lotte to her, and then sighed again, sinking deeper down into her desk.

“Whhaaa…. I wish I could have just one more Sparkling Show of Wonder again… that performance really made me feel like Chariot…” she ducked her head down so her nose squished against the deck, feeling sad that those fundraisers had already ended for the semester.

“Ah!” Lotte got up and leaned over her desk, her hands hitting it as Akko shook slightly from the abruptness. Suzy just turned her, looking slightly surprised by her outburst and lightly moved her hand away.

“Whaatt..?” Akko looked up, before seeing that the whole class was on their feet but Suzy, and her head started flinging around in all directions, concluding that indeed, everyone was looking out the window.

“Hey! What’s everyone gawking at..?” she turned to the window, before her eyes widened and she leaped up on top of her desk. “AHHH!!!” she flapped her arms around.

“Andrew? Is he back to propose?” Suzy blinked, not getting up at all for a moment before closing her eyes and scooting her chair back, rising calmly from her seat before giving a sneaky and wicked grin to Akko. “Are you really going to go through with it this time? After all, you’re not getting any younger. He-he-he-he~”

“Ahh! Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Akko put her fists up near her, leaned her head back to shout out, as her feet almost tap-danced in result of her spurring nerves.

She then stopped to spread her arms out and down, spreading her legs apart and looking around as if trying to hide.

“What’s wrong, Akko? He shouldn’t really be here to-’ Lotte started, putting a dainty hand up to her chin.

Akko had a goblin’s gritted, open frown on her face. She tensed up before looking back to Lotte, holding her hands to her shoulders, “That paper!” she remembered her.

“Ah.. you mean… the restraining order?” (Referring to my first prompt –> x )

She looked worried, sweating profusely as she bit her lower lip, a desperate attempt to get it to stop shaking.

“Aw. I think it broke her heart.” Suzy commented before, as Akko’s face turned vicious as she leaned down to her,  not removing her hands from Lotte’s shoulders though.

Her head grew big like in animes, and her eyes sharpened to angry arrows, “KEEP YOUR DEGRADING COMMENTS TO YOURSELF!”

“Oh. Touchy.”

“Oui. I think I could be of some, rather unique, assistance~”

“H-huh?” Akko turned around.

With her feet up, Amanda twirled her wand in her hand, a very cool and fashionable manner.

She had sat back down with all the excitement ruining her chilled mood, and leaned her head to the side before snapping it back to Akko and catching her wand from twirling at the same time.

She smirked, “I’m good at hiding things. What do ya need to get out of here?”

“Ah.. N-not much.” Akko blinked her eyes, surprised by her offer of help.

“Perfect, the clothes on your back are enough for ya? Haha! A girl after my own heart!” she once again spun her wand and suddenly Akko was lifted into the air.

“A..ah…AHH!!!” Akko flailed her arms about, amazed she was flying without a broom, as Amanda got up, putting her hands to her hip. “Constanze.”

Constanze slightly got up from her seat, hunching over, and pulled some specialized googles up off her eyes as she fiddled with a controller of somekind in her hand.

Suddenly, a device detached from a backpack that was on her and sprang upward.

The rod looking device started to form out with locks and gears clicking together to transform it, as Amanda slammed a foot down on her desk, getting momentum, and jumped to reach the object.

With a few cool acrobatic skills, she caught the rod that sprung out a stream of light from some bushy brown bristles that looked like they belonged a broom.

“Woah.” Lotte watched in amazement, as Suzy just blinked at the light show, and Constanze narrowed her eyes with a sparkle, as if proud of her invention working successfully as it was called out.

Amanda jumped on, then floated Akko to her broom’s end.

“This baby can get us out of any place at the speed of light! Illegal in most countries, but pretty cool, right?”

“I-Illegal?” Akko lay across it and gripped it with both hands, before positioning herself forward and making sure her legs and feet overlapped it, trying to get a good grip on it.

“Hahaha! Don’t worry about it. Here we go!” she got serious after her little laugh and the two disappeared in a stream of light, passing the expensive looking cars that had Andrew and his father come out from, walking to the representatives of the school.

“AHH!!! H-hey! It’s Andrew!!” the stream of light had zig-zaggy lines, almost like a skinny dragon, as they flew around the school a few times in the air.

“If we stay up here, we’ll be undetected!”

“R-right!”

“Good afternoon, Sir. Is there something we can help you with?” The headmaster looked up, as Andrew’s father’s fixed his tie.

“Yes. My son here has political business with one of your students. We demand a meeting with her at once. Privately.”

“O-of course… I-I hope you know, o-our student meant no harm…” She looked worried.

“Bring the witch here and we’ll discuss the matter more personally.”

“Y-yes, sir!”

“Huh, looks like you’re in deep trouble.”

“Ohhh…”

“Hmm? That down about it huh?”

“N-no… my stomach,… I’m about tah..tah..ohhhh…”

“H-hey! Don’t even THINK about-!!”

“Urp!”

“AHH!!! NOT ON ME YOU DON’T-!!!”

Amanda and Akko suddenly appeared at normal speed above the crowd, as Amanda’s leg was up and foot pushing Akko’s sick face away from her.

Akko looked like she was about to vomit from the fastness of the mechanized broom.

“A…Akko?” Andrew blinked, turning himself to look over his shoulder and up in the air.

“A-Ah! Andrew!” Akko worriedly looked for an escape, and jumped from the broom to the roof of the school, trying to run away.

“Stop her!” His father called out.

“Woah. You really got the feds after you now!” Amanda leaned up and clinged to the broom, seeing the men all climb the buildings to chase her on the rooftops, as she tried to get away.

She skidded to a halt, seeing them in front of her.

“Eep!!” she turned around, but also had to slide to a full stop while they climbed up there too.

“AH-AH-AH!!” she crawled on all fours with the momentum of the stop to bolt off in another direction before getting on her two legs again, but was caught by one of the professor’s spells that placed her in a bubble.

She was like a hamster, spinning in place within it. “H-Huh?” she blinked, looking down and then freaking out about being trapped.

“Nooo!!!” she fell to her knees and cried out, as the ball rolled her back down to the ground.

As it popped, she held her head down, her hands on her lying legs, before she looked up with sorrow towards the adults.

“What did you do this time!?” 

Jasminka and the other students watched from a long window, but she was scarfing her face with chips, enjoying the show outside.

Professor Finnelan stomped over to her, looking furious.

“I hope you know you’ve caused quite the stir for the students today! Hmph! Such a disgraceful witch!” she turned her head upright and away from her, but her eyes never left their cruel and cold watch over her.

Akko teared up a little bit, sniffing like a child before Andrew bent down.

“I apologize for whatever dear Akko may have done upon you and your son, Good sir… please, let us make it up to you somehow.” The headmaster tried to extend her arm out in truce, but the father stood like stone before folding his arms.

“…Akko.”

Akko looked up, “I.. I didn’t break the contract, I swear.” she swung her head away from him, looking upset she had to say that.

“…Akko, look at me.”

He moved a hand up to her chin and lightly guided her gaze back to him.

“…H…Huh?” she was suddenly put in a strange trance, and listened carefully to him, as if he was the only one in the school yard…

A few sweat drops appeared on the side of his face, tiny as he struggled it seemed, putting his head down and closing his eyes.

His father narrowed his own, and tapped his shoe with his own.

“Em!” he shot his head up, and then looked more serious.

“…Marry me… Akko.”

Her face went white.

The students faces went white… all but Jazminka, who formed a ‘o’ with her mouth at the sudden confession, and then shoved another chip in it.

“W…What?” Akko twitched a smile to her face, but it was more in nerves and confusion.

“I thought you hated me… Is that spell still on ya? Y-You don’t honestly think I’m still your wife, do you?” She fidgetted, not sure what to do in this situation, before leaning back and swaying her hands up above her, “I-I-I swear! I can fix that! Just-!”

 She was about to summon some magic again but he held a firm hand to her wrist, stopping her as she looked pretty taken aback by that.

“…My father thinks this union will impress the press.” He closed his eyes, whispering to her as he leaned in.

She blushed, not wanting him to be so close before hearing his words, and widening her eyes.

“Eh?”

“He thinks it’s good publicity… with the growing concern for Witches and all…” he twitched his eyebrow, as if this was the most embarrassing and hardest thing for him to do.

“I promise to be a good husband!” he then rose up, picking her up in the action as her feet were completely up and off the ground, her body disfigured slightly in her astonishment as he held her solely by her waist and held wrist.

Her eyes turned to swirls, her head flinging around in a circle. “Wh-Wh-Wha-wha-what!?”

The camera flashes all took off in swarms, before he closed his eyes and tried to remain poised.

Later that day, Lotte and Suzy were dressed as flower girls, and the whole school was conjuring up magic for the wedding.

Guarded by men, Akko was trapped in a bridal chamber, wearing a gorgeous white dress, but looking very torn-up in her mirror, blinking at her reflection.

She looked at her dress, moving it up slightly. “I… I don’t want to get married, though…” she admitted, before looking out the window…

“…What about my dream? What about Chariot?” she walked to the window, and opened it up.

Outside, men were also guarding the rooftops.

They knew she liked to jump….

She frowned, and took in a deep breath, almost until her cheeks were about to explode as she wiggled her head around before bursting the air out of them in a shout.

“SOMEONE SAVE ME!!!!” she cried out.

“Fear not, fair maiden! You’re heroes have arrived!”

“H-huh?” Akko looked down.

The men who were guarding the rooftop were suddenly down and flinching, as magic spiraled back into a wand held by Diana, as Amanda saluted up to her with two fingers held closely together.

She winked.

“Amanda! D-Diana?”

She had her head down, tapping her wand to her folded arm, before looking upset. “I… I’m only doing this cause they forced me into it!”

“I used an obeying spell. Also illegal.” Amanda stuck her tongue up and to the side of her mouth, smiling and holding her wink.

“Ah-hahaha!” Akko leaned her head back, banging her foot on the ground, thinking that hilarious, before shouting out the window again. “That makes complete and total sense! Diana would never do something nice for me out of her own free will!”

Diana had an anger mark appear on her head, as she unfolded her arms and threw them down by her side, shouting back, but with a much more lady-like way.

“Don’t write me off as a villain!”

“Oh? Maybe a spoiled brat, then?”

“WHAT?!” Diana crinkled her fingers up, insulted, before Amanda whistled off to the side of her, and Akko’s smile faded as she looked off in the distance.

Lotte was riding with spirit beings, as Suzy had a mushroom horde behind her. She sat on one mushroom and flew by Lotte’s side.

“E…Everyone…” Akko almost teared up, arching her eyebrows back, touched by their efforts.

Amanda looked down and closed her eyes, “Hmph.” she was glad Akko could see they really cared about her, and then looked up. “Well, let’s go princess.”

“Em. Right.” Akko nodded, and started to climb down, before…

Men threw open the door.

“It’s time to go, Miss Kagari.”

“Ak.” Akko looked frozen in spot, as one shoe fell off her foot from hanging out the window.

“AH! Miss Kagari! She’s trying to escape!” the man hollered out, more amazed than actually ordering anyone.

She fell down, “Whoops!”

Amanda caught her instantly, standing on her mecha broom, and holding her bridal style. “Time to go!”

“W-wait! What am I suppose to do?” Diana ran a bit after them, before stopping.

“Oh, right.” Amanda turned to her. “Take care of those guards, will ya’s? If you do, I’ll break the enchantment on ya. Sound like a good deal?”

“Ah. You better mean that…” Diana sweat dropped, before turning her wand to the men. “Sorry.” she swiped her arm out and a powerful pulse pushed the men back, showing her raw power and magic potential.

“This is terrible!” The father leaned out another window, seeing Akko escaping on the back of Amanda’s broom. “They must be stopped! You’re reputation was skyrocketing!” He tried to turn to the door, but was amazed that Andrew shut it quickly with his arm.

“A…Andrew? What are you doing!? Out of the way!” He commanded, as Andrew pulled the bow off his suit.

He flipped his hair a bit, shaking his head. “No, father. I refuse to marry anyone I don’t approve of.”

“B-but… How dare you! Defying me!?”

“I’m not defying you. I simply refuse to marry someone who doesn’t love me.” he narrowed his eyes, “And furthermore, I barely know her. You’re not just forcing this on me, but on someone else too.”

He strode confidently towards his father, taking one powerfully driven step at a time, as his father grew nervous, and stepped back as well. “Ah…Ahh..” he alternated his arms up over his body as he stepped back.

“You’d hate to have to explain to the press that you forced a young witch to marry your son, wouldn’t you?”

“Erk… Are… are you threatening me, boy?” he looked afraid.

“….I’m simply using my resources, father.” he closed his eyes and ducked his head down, “According to your instructions, I even use blackmail to my advantage.”

When he looked up, his eyes were like steel, and his father flinched back.

“V…Very well. But I expect you to have a proper engagement AT LEAST to her! We’ll say she got cold-feet in the presence of such esteemed heritage. She felt unworthy of the title, and therefore abandoned her initial promise. To keep what we’ve already gathered in favor of the public eye, we’ll need to protect your image and have you at least try and court her back into an fiancee. Is that clear?”

“…I will do my best… Father.” he turned his head down again, avoiding eye contact.

“Good. Once this whole ‘witch praise’ phase is over, you can denounce your relations to her. But until then, you do as I say. Understood?” he straightened up his tie again, seeing he was back in power, as Andrew lowered his eyes.

“Yes… Father.”

“What a submissive rascal.”

“A-at least he’s trying to say he’s sorry.. R-right?”

“By wooing her back into a forced marriage?”

“How wonderful.”

Akko once again was crinkling up a letter, this time, a love poem with the most ridiculous language she had ever read.

“Wow, he’s quite poetic.”

“It’s not even him!” Akko crumbled it up and threw it, sitting on the ground with her legs spread out in front of her, she glared towards the trash that it had missed swishing into, as Suzy looked to the flowers, and smirked.

She pulled a vile out and tapped a drop to one flower, turning it poisonous and ugly, before snickering and smelling it.

She looked drunk for a moment, “Such sweet sorrow comes from such roses of names.”

“T-that’s not what the quote is…” Lotte turned around, thinking she heard shakespeare as Akko jumped up, startling her.

“Hmph! If he thinks he can win me back with some cheap tricks, he’s sorely mistaken! I’m gonna cast a spell this time to change him into a frog! Then have an ugly princess kiss him and be rid of this nuisance!!”

“Ahh! She’s snapped!”

“Gone mad.”

“A-Akko! Calm down! T-this doesn’t sound like you at all!”

“Hey, they let us keep the flower-gown… can I burn it?”

Lotte tried to hold Akko back as her nostrials flared, trying to desperately swish her wand around to spat out curses.

“S-Suzy!” Lotte turned her head back, trying to get Suzy to help her out here.

Suzy turned back to her, “What? She’s terrible with magic anyway. It’s not like she could actually succeed at a curse anyway.” she turned her head back to the viles in her hands which she was randomly taking out from her cloak, all in different colors and casting each drop on the different flowers.

Each one turned into a crazy looking, evil creation. One even snapped at her hand, making her smile creepily.

“Hey, can I keep the bouquet? Hehehehe…”

Akko slowly stopped her struggles after hearing Suzy’s words, and slipped down in Lotte’s arms, crying in her lap as Lotte held a hand by her side.

“I’m a failure… even at love… I’m a failure at every magic possible.” she chibi cried, having it stream down her eyes as she turned and cried in Lotte’s lap.

Lotte held a shy smile as she sweat dropped awkwardly from the side of her face. “There… there..” she tried to comfort. “Not all endings are sad, right?”

She turned to the trash can, and got her wand out and swiped it in the air.

The magic brought the poem out again and she looked over it.

“How do you know it’s not him?” Lotte read it again, out loud.

Like fires from flames long lost, I met you in secrecy.

Haunted by visions of lonely moons, I transformed that day.

Now I willingly go to the dream, as if to find what I had not obtained.

There, I see your face, and I know I must change.

Therefore, when we meet again, let it be by natural strains, and natural alone.

Though magic be fierce, and the world cruel, let not your heart cease in it’s course.

For I shall requite your path with mine, and in affection long lasting, no magic greater, I shall have this dream of you for life.

She held the paper close to her chest, leaning her head up. “It’s like something straight out of Nightfall!”

“Oh. Looks like he made someone swoon.” Suzy turned back, seeing her reaction.

“…You.. you actually like that gibberish stuff? I mean… it make sense to you?” Akko looked up, before getting up to her knees.

“Huh? You mean.. you can’t understand it?” Lotte looked to her, and seemed surprised. “It’s a rejection of ones self for a greater longing. He’s hoping to love you when the time is right, and he, himself, is ready and worthy for you; and your love.” she smiled, loving the message of it.

Akko blinked.

“Hehehe… Akko can barely read the newspaper.”

“SHUT UP, SUZY! I CAN TOO READ! I read Chariot’s collectible cards, don’t I?”

“It’s not quite the same thing…” Lotte sweat dropped, still trying to be polite about it… “Well, I can explain it, if you want.”

“Uhh… em.. o-okay.” Akko dipped her head down, losing her anger and putting her shaking fist down to match her other on her knees.

“R..Read it again?”

“Sure!”

“Ugh.”

“KEEP YOUR COMMENTS TO YOURSELF!” Akko burst out again, jumping to now a kneel as she threatened Suzy again, who just grinned up to her, her eyes drooped as usual, as if faking being apologetic.

“It’s just too fun to mess with you~”

“Ohhh!!! Quit it, already!!!” Akko cried out, as Lotte smiled nervously and Suzy stuck out her tongue while attempting to laugh as well, making her look creepy, another usual for her.

(Hope you enjoyed it! I just felt like the show wouldn’t do a real wedding…. lol, sorry about that! ^u^; )

[hardyalise92]

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Burmese Cat Spraying

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[notsofly]

Ties in Blood Chapter 24

Warnings: Adult Content lies below

@mrswhozeewhatsis @impala-dreamer @percussiongirl2017 @winchestergirl-13 @squirrelnotsam @idreamofplaid

Chapter 24

Aaliyah leaned back in the bar chair, her lips pulled into a small smirk. The poker game had been going on for hours, and was pushing closing time at the bowling alley. Of the six people at the table, three had folded, one was on the verge of either folding or matching the bet, and the last was keeping his gaze locked on Aaliyah. She approached the game early enough to buy in and play the fool on the game. Now she was close to doubling what she started off with. If her bluff held against the man sitting across from her. The one on the verge finally folded, tossing his cards face down on the table.

“Looks like it’s just you and me, love,” the man told Aaliyah. “Any last minute bets before I take the pot?”

Aaliyah half shrugged. “Not really.” She watched him lean forward onto the table and revealed his hand; a pair of eights. Her face contorted a little when she looked at her cards. “I don’t know, sir. Not sure if I can beat that.” Sounds of cash and chips being pulled away reached her ears. “But I think this can.” She laid her cards out face up to show four kings.

The man stared at the cards in the disbelief that Aaliyah hustled the game.

“Now, hold up a second,” the one on the verge started. “You really don’t expect to walk outta here with the entire pot?”

Aaliyah started collecting the money bills. “As a matter of fact, I do. And I expect you all to put up the cash for all these chips as well.” She slipped the last of the bills into a bag and put her hands on the table. “And I expect it to be done in the next five minutes.”

Two of the five, those that had folded long before it was just Aaliyah and the other man, got up and returned with the cash they owed. The third sat for another minute before doing the same. Aaliyah turned her head to the last person to fold as they removed their money and put it on the table. She gathered the four piles, with a thank you to each man, before her attention fell to the man with the pair of eights.

“I hate a sore loser, sir,” she told him.

“You hustled us,” he argued.

Her head did a tilt. “True, but you continued playing. I wonder, though. At what point did you actually realize you were being hustled? And why didn’t you say anything then?”

“Because I don’t like losing to a woman. But … you did put up a good game.” He pushed away from the table before reaching under it to reveal a briefcase. The money that he had lost landed with a thud in the center of the table. “I commend you on a well played game, Ms. …”

“Earhart,” Aaliyah answered. She smiled politely as she reached for the money, putting the bundles into the bag. “Gentlemen, I enjoyed the game, your generosity in allowing me to play, and the amusement of the night. Now, if you excuse me,” she freed a couple twenties from a bundle, “I’d like to go tip the employees for keeping them so late.”

Putting a hand behind her to move the chair, Aaliyah gave the five men a polite nod, gathered up her jacket and backpack that had been on the floor. The thought of putting the bag of money into the backpack passed through her mind, but she decided against it. Any one of the men could easily follow her and take it once on the street. She walked over to the first employee she saw and handed over the forty dollars to be split with those still there before leaving.

Aaliyah stepped outside the main doors and worked the money bag into her backpack and started out toward the street. A few feet out into the parking lot and her feet started to chill from the foot of snow. She pondered why she had been stupid enough to be in Michigan during December. It had been a month since Amanda’s death and Aaliyah decided to cut her ties with the boys. Both of them had called and left voicemails, which Aaliyah had ignored. It would be the same thing they told her before; it wasn’t her fault that Amanda died or that she decided to continue to hunt. The guilt still ate away at Aaliyah, that it was her fault that Amanda started hunting again.

She stepped off the curb between two cars before looking for oncoming vehicles. Her feet slipped through the slush on the road. The late night hour had a few vehicles on the road, but none that Aaliyah had to worry about. One way was clear and she darted out to the center turn lane. There she waited for the small group of vehicles to pass before darting across the next two lanes. Aaliyah crossed the open space in front of the L shaped building that made up the eight room motel across the street of the bowling alley and poker room.

Once in her room, Aaliyah dumped her bag onto a bed and reached for the remote; flicking the television on. She pulled out her cell and tossed it back behind her onto the same bed. She pulled out the bag of money from her backpack and put it on the bed. The sounds of a porn movie filled the room as she dug through the bag that had some clothes and other items in it at the table. Part of her thought of changing the channel with the hope that there would be something better on than Casa Erotica Nine. Aaliyah pulled out her journal and dropped it on the table with a thud. Her mind questioned why it was still within reach in the bag when it should have been buried by the clothes.

Her cell starting ringing when she pulled out a shirt and sniffed at it. Clean enough to be worn again for a day or two. The cell stopped ringing when Aaliyah dug out the rest of clean clothes. She heard the vibration and noise of a voicemail. Giving up on trying to ignore the boys, Aaliyah picked up the phone and cued up the voicemail that just came through.

“Hey, Aaliyah,” Sam’s voice greeted. “We’re in Michigan dealing with some pagan gods. We had thought…” There was a cough that sounded like he cleared his throat. “We could use the help with this one. Call me back.”

The voicemail ended and the next one started up before Aaliyah could end it. Here they were asking for help once again. Part of her wanted to refuse the call for help, let them deal with a few cases without her. Then another part argued with the point that they helped her as well a few years ago. Aaliyah tightened her grip on her cell before chucking it at a wall from the stress caused from warring with herself. Why should she be the one always the one to come running when the Winchesters needed help?

She startled when a knock came at the door. Moving quietly, she pulled her hand gun out of her gear bag and eased back the slide, chambering a round. Aaliyah rolled her feet to avoid stepping and making noise in her path to the door. There, she put an eye to the peep hole to see Dean on the other side. “Who is it?”

“Police,” Dean replied, his voice muffled by the door. “We need you to open the door, ma’am.”

“For what purpose? Got something stuck to your shoe?” She watched Dean tense up and cast a look around him. “Go away, Dean.”

“Oh, come on, Liyra,” he countered. “Are you willing going to let me freeze out here?”

“I might. There’s always letting Baby keep you warm for the night.” She watched him squirm a little, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Any reason why you drove twenty minutes just to see me?”

“Because it’s Christmas.”

“Lousy excuse.” Still, Aaliyah undid the locks and opened the door for Dean. She gestured for him to enter the room and waited for any sort of judgmental looks or sounds from him.

“Played a bit of poker, huh?” Dean thumbed open the money bag on the bed.

“You could say that.” Aaliyah picked up a bottle from the six pack and offered it to Dean. “What’s the real reason you’re here, Dean? This doesn’t feel like a pop in for a checkup.”

“Can you blame me?” Dean turned from the bed to look at Aaliyah, ignoring the beer. “Sammy and I have been worried about you since dealing with that rabbit’s foot.”

“And you think there’s some underlying issue?” Aaliyah opened the bottle and took a drink. “Is that it?”

“There’s gotta be. Hell, you worked yourself up into a bloody panic attack when we were dealing with the foot.” Dean’s voice raised up.

Aaliyah’s eyes widen at the increased sound as she pulled the bottle from her lips. “Oh, so you’re a psychologist, now, huh? Come to do a bed side manner on a former college nursing student who had no business getting into the business? Well, screw you, Winchester.”

Dean took a cautious step toward her. “I came to check on a friend. One that’s still dealing rather hard with a friend’s death.”

“I think I’m doing just fine.” Aaliyah took another drink. She watched him move closer to her, a part of her knew he was telling the truth about checking in on her. “So,” she put the bottle onto the table. “did you come here to ferry me out to Ypsilanti, or keep me company here while Casa Erotica 9 is playing in the background?” She watched Dean arch an eyebrow at the mention of the porn movie. “First thing that popped up when I turned the television on.”

There was something in his eye that Aaliyah wasn’t too sure about. The call from her bladder came to the rescue, sending her into the bathroom. Had Dean always looked at her like that, or was it a new thing brought on by who knew what? Aaliyah shook it off, wanting to ignore it. She emerged from the bathroom to find Dean half rifling through her bags. “Is there something you’re looking for?”

Dean turned from the bag and locked eyes with her. Aaliyah could read the look on his face. She knew he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was worried about her just as much as he did about Sam. Something took over, sending Aaliyah toward Dean. The barrier that she had up since she parted ways with the Winchesters broke down, allowing tears to flow and soak into Dean’s shirt. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close. Aaliyah wrapped her own around him, crying into him. The steady beating of his heart helped to calm her down.

“Does it get better?” Aaliyah asked once she regained her breath. “Hunting things and saving people?”

“Some days are easier than others.” His voice vibrated a little in his chest. “You know what happened to the roadhouse? Other days are going to be like that. We try and save as many as we can.” Dean pulled back just enough to look at her, lifting her chin with a hand. “There’s going to be more like Amanda that we can’t save.”

“Then why is there a wad of guilt in my stomach?”

“Probably why there was one when I couldn’t save Sam.”

Aaliyah bit back the comment about the deal he made with the demon to bring back Sam. “I still feel awful about it.”

“It’ll scar over. Like those scars from that werewolf.”

Aaliyah huffed before she reached up and wiped her face off. “They’ve healed well enough, thanks to you.”

“Can I see?”

Aaliyah half tilted her head before she freed herself from Dean’s arms. She locked her gaze with his green eyes and worked off her plaid shirt, tossing it away from her onto the floor. Her arms crossed in front of her and grabbed hold of the shirt hem, bringing it up and over her head. Aaliyah held onto the shirt and moved as Dean put a finger on a shoulder, lightly guiding her around. The little hairs on her side stood on end as he barely touched the claw marks. The touch moved around to her back and traced the deep scars there. She sensed he had stepped in close to her; an inch or so between them.

“I’m surprised you survived this,” Dean told her, his voice low in her ear.

“I had someone talented with stitching,” Aaliyah replied, her voice had grown a little deep. She stood still as Dean continued the tracing of her scars.

“Where did this one come from?” he asked, touching a spot where her neck blended into her shoulders. “It looks like an outline of a handprint.”

Aaliyah rolled her shoulders and lowered her head. “Djinn. It caught me and nearly had me in my dream vision.” Her voice was low in shame from having to admit it. “It had been one of my first hunts back after college before getting that hospital job.” She turned around to see a new look on Dean’s face and wondered what was going on in his mind. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to open up about that part.”

There was a small head shake from him. “I won’t ask unless you’re ready too.”

Aaliyah gave a meek smile before her mind snapped back and she struggled to put her shirt back on. Her attention turned from Dean to her shirt.

“Don’t.”

It was one word. Enough to stop Aaliyah from putting the shirt on. She lowered her arms back down to her sides. One part, a small part, of Aaliyah’s mind screamed at her to move. That the space between her and Dean was a bit too close for comfort. But the rest of her liked it. How he had gotten tired of making phone calls and leaving voicemails. She wouldn’t be surprised if he managed to track the GPS signal on her cell to the motel.

Aaliyah raised her eyes back up to Dean. There was that second or two pause before she moved in and latched her lips onto his. She felt him tense a little before easing into the kiss. Calloused hands rested on her shoulders before sliding down her arms, taking her bra straps off the shoulders. Aaliyah had chosen a semi revealing shirt for the poker game, which could have worked, and the shirt had called for the bra. Her chest heaved slightly for breath once Dean pulled away, his forehead rested on hers.

“We don’t have to do this,” he whispered.

“I … I want to.” There was a little kiss on her forehead.

Aaliyah nearly protested when Dean pulled away from her. She heard a light thump before he returned to her, his lips teasing at her neck. Her hands reached for the hem of his shirt as her breathing came heavy. Her hands slipped in under his shirt, feeling his stomach. A heat started to grow between her legs. “Dean,” she breathed.

The tips of his fingers traced up her sides and around to where the bra clasp rested on her back. Aaliyah had heard of Dean’s reputation with the women, but the way he was treating her made it seem like it was just her that he cared for. Aaliyah shifted her arms, freeing her bra from them. She stopped Dean from moving down with his kissing and pulled back just enough to work his shirt off of him. There was no need for Aaliyah to watch him free the shirt from him. The short time it took him to do that allowed Aaliyah to glide her hands over his chest and teased a nipple. It gained a moaned from Dean.

Aaliyah’s mouth pulled a little into a smile as her head reached for Dean’s. He met her with another kiss. A tingle waved over her skin when Dean’s hands slid over her. A thumb rolled over a nipple before the hand slid down to her stomach. It was about there she could feel Dean’s own excitement grow, straining against the denim jeans.

“Are … you … sure?” Dean asked between quick pecks.

“Just …” Aaliyah struggled to undo his belt. She gasped when her own pants were unfastened. “I want this.”

The belt finally came free.

She gasped when a hand moved under her pants and teased between her skin and undies. Her stance widened to accommodate Dean’s hand; her breathing quickened as he worked. Aaliyah planted kisses wherever she could reach on Dean’s body as he guided her around in spot and back onto the empty bed. Her legs were bent at the knee off the edge of the bed.

“Let’s get these off you,” Dean said, pulling at her pants.

Aaliyah propped herself up on her elbows. “Wanna work on the shoes first? That might help.”

Dean chuckled. “I knew there was something about you I liked.”

Aaliyah moved more onto the bed as Dean worked on removing her footwear. “Why do you keep asking if I wanna do this?” She saw him look up from where he knelt between her legs. He stopped and not quite matched her gaze.

“You’re still hurting over Amanda, and I don’t wanna push you into something over that. Your feelings all messed up over it.” Dean ran his hands up and over her pants, moving toward the waist band.

Aaliyah’s head went back and lifted her hips as her pants were pulled from her body. “I think it’s a little too late to be worried about pushing either of us into something.” Her breath caught in her throat when something warm brushed against her sweet spot. Her mind heard a noise that sounded like someone working off a piece of clothing from them while being distracted. Her eyes closed as the heat continued to rise, building to a point she wasn’t sure she couldn’t stop. She wasn’t sure she wanted it to stop with the way Dean was working at her. Then he pulled away.

Hands guided her around into a new position on the bed. She knelt and her eyes opened just enough to see what was happening. Dean had arranged the pillows to support him before reclining back against the wall. Aaliyah tried – and failed – to not have her attention fall to the one part of Dean that called to her. She had seen more than her share while at the hospital, most were drunks who had decided to strip either in the lobby or in triage. And there was the one or two times she had stumbled onto a porno. The current playing of Casa Erotica 9 not within standing.

Aaliyah leaned down and moved her hands over Dean, hearing the soft thud of his head hitting the headboard behind him. She traced a finger along his length, gaining a hip thrust in return. The urge to sheath him into her was so bad, Aaliyah wasn’t sure how she fought it back. Something caught her from moving forward. They were at the point of no return and Aaliyah wanted to continue.

“Aaliyah?”

“I … um …” She sighed. “Call me a fool, but…”

“You don’t wanna…” He shifted up against the headboard in more of a sitting position.

“Oh, no. I do, serious. It’s just … I hadn’t gotten this far. Before we met, I was more focused on classes. Then hunting.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dean reached out and rubbed her upper arm.

“And have you think less of me?”

“After all the shit you’ve done, you’d think that would make me think less of you?”

Aaliyah nodded. She froze when their eyes met, watching him move in close to her.

“It wouldn’t,” he told her, voice soft. “Are you sure you want to continue?”

Aaliyah took a breath before she nodded. “I want to.” She melted when Dean kissed her. Soft and tender. Her mind had other ideas and pressed the kiss and Dean back against the head board. One hand traced up a leg and hit gold, working at him. The body below her hand moved with her motion. Aaliyah pulled from the kiss and took the plunge. A moan reached her ears, a good sign she was doing something good.

“Oh, God. Aaliyah,” Dean groaned. “I need you.”

Aaliyah pulled away to see his head had gone back and his eyes were closed. It was now or never. She moved to straddle herself over Dean as his head came up. His hands rested on the spot where her thighs melted into her hips while she held herself above him. A nod so subtle Aaliyah doubted she even saw it. She eased down, her face grimaced as an uncomfortable pressure built up against a block. A kiss stopped any sort of noise as Aaliyah pushed past the pressure and felt a pop. A groan of pain escaped into the kiss. She pulled herself up against Dean’s body and rode out the pain.

“Aaliyah.”

It was a question, one that asked if she was okay and wanted to continue. She nodded and lifted herself up then back down. Repeat. The pain slipped away as Aaliyah worked herself against her partner. Kisses dotted her chest, working over her exposed skin. A mouth found a breast and suckled. Her eyes fell close and her breath came short. Hips started to roll and muscles worked toward climax. Under her was the sensation of another’s own release coming soon.

Arms wrapped around Aaliyah’s body and she was circled around on the bed where she was on her back looking up. The weight from another body rested on her as it rolled against her, working hard. Her hips moved against his, adding to the pleasure.

“Dean,” she breathed, breath shallow. “Don’t … stop. I want …” A wave of pure ecstasy washed over her as a group of muscles tightened around him. A cry of pleasure escaped her lips.

Something hot and wet entered her with a groan, matching her own level of enjoyment.

Aaliyah laid there, keeping her eyes closed while riding out the trail end of her ecstasy. It was nothing she could explain. When she finally opened her eyes, Aaliyah met the apple green eyes of Dean looking down at her. His forearms rested on each side of her while propping him up above her. A tease of a smile was on his lips. He hadn’t moved otherwise.

“Thank you,” he said. “For trusting me.”

**

Aaliyah heard the door close before opening her eyes. She wasn’t sure at what time she passed out after the little session with Dean. Or why he had stayed when he could have gone back to Ypsilanti after she passed out. With a deep breath, Aaliyah stretched out, feeling the cheap motel covers on top of her, and opened her eyes.

“Look who’s up,” Dean’s voice drifted over to her. “I hope you don’t mind I borrowed the room key. Ran out to the McDonald’s over here and grabbed some food.”

“Can’t remember the last time I ate.” Aaliyah propped herself up on an elbow to watch him put the bag of food and drinks onto the side table between the two beds. “Dean, about what happened between us last night. I wanna say thanks. I don’t know if any other guy woulda kept asking what you did.” She worked herself up into a sitting position, the blankets pooled in her lap.

“You know I care about you,” he said, pulling out a couple sausage and egg muffins and handed them to her. “There’s a coffee there for you.”

Aaliyah accepted the muffins and unwrapped one. “Yeah, I know. I just … needed time to deal with things on my own for a while.” She took a bite. “Part of me wanted to keep going, ignore all the calls from you and Sam. You…” Aaliyah swallowed the bite. “you came and actually checked in on me.” She leaned over and gave him a peck on the check. “For that, and everything else. Thank you.” She returned back to sitting and took a drink of the coffee. “Bleh. Don’t think I ever told you I hated coffee.”

That got a laugh from Dean. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

Aaliyah gave a smile as she put the muffin in her mouth, holding it in place with her lips, and climbed out of the bed. She managed another bite or two in her efforts of gathering clean clothes for a shower. “Give me a half hour and we can head out and deal with that case of yours. I’m sure Sammy’s wondering what happened to you.”