#i really need to sleep but my mind would much rather fantasize than allow me to drift off

[dilucbabe]

filthy

pairing: overhaul x fem!reader rating: m themes: priest kink, dubcon/noncon, emotional manipulation, spit kink, explicit sexual content, degradation, misogyny word count: 1.75k ao3 - request

His gloved fingers glide over your own, a smile adorning his lips. Funny, how such a simple gesture can mean so much to someone like Kai. It’s obviously no secret how uncomfortable he is with people showing their entitlement in thinking they’re allowed to come near his vicinity - to rub their filthy hands over him as if he merely stood on display. But it wasn’t just about the audacity that they showed with their thoughtless actions, far more, it was about the control that they took from him.

Kai is a man of action, a man of God. Someone who shows action and takes fate into his own hand, pulling it if needed. Not someone who lets things happen to him. He isn’t weak like that and he’d rather die than become so pathetic. His mission in life is to shield the weak ones from temptation and sin, to guide them to the right path, even if it means becoming forceful. Some might call him cruel, but truth be told, the perception of others is as important as the non-existent dirt under his fingernails. The only thing that truly matters that he obeyed the Allmighty, the church.

“Father?”, your voice is laced with sleep, eyes not yet open and Kai feels his heart stir at the sight alone. “Hmm, did something happen?” The innocence in the statement alone feels like pure gasoline to the flame that is his desire for you. Funny, how such a simple gesture can drive a man like Kai Chisaki to the brink of madness.

You’d come to the monastery on a rainy night, wet hair clinging to your frightened little face as you begged with utmost sincerity, “Please, father. I have nowhere to go. I- I need your guidance.”

You had practically breathed your plea, hands desperately clawing at your coat, the wet fabric doing nothing to shield you from the cold. If he were a different man, he would have felt his demeanour melt away, but he had remained strong. “Guidance, child?”

You cast your gaze away from him, shame bringing a pretty glow to your cheeks. “I’m a horrible woman. I-“, your bottom lip quivered, looking up at you with such over the top sorrow, it almost seemed comical. Almost. “I have seduced men without meaning to. I really didn’t, you have to believe me! Satan himself must reside within me!”

“First and foremost”, he had remained firm in his stance, albeit a bit more tense, though he couldn’t quite tell why. “There is nothing I have to do, aside from serving our Lord in Heaven. Not aid you, nor believe you.”

A high pitched squeal slipped past your chapped lips, clasping your hand over your mouth as though you had spoken out of turn. “I- Please-!”

“Still, you are in luck that God wouldn’t let me permit to turn my back on a poor sinner, so accepting of their own sins.”

It was, for the lack of a better word for it, thrilling to hear you beg like that, he remembers. It still is. Desperation and fear for condemnation – for punishment – has always been a big motivator for Kai. Instilling fear of what is good and righteous had always seemed like his one true calling, planting a seed of shame and guilt within people’s minds, to infest it and exorcise all evil from their very souls. A most gratifying experience he thanks the Lord every night in prayer.

Yet when it comes to you, he feels something stir inside of him. Maybe it is something akin to excitement, maybe it was hunger, maybe mere curiosity. Whatever it may be, he knows that it can only mean evil. What else could it be? You yourself have admitted upon being corrupted by the Devil, so he is but a man standing in the face of corruption.

Kai feels his pulse quicken, your legs spread open as though you are simply begging for him to be defiled by you. And who knows? Maybe you are. It wouldn’t be the first time, he’d caught your eyes taking his form with heaving bosom and wide eyes. Revolting slut that you are.

“Father?” He can see you trembling and he can feel himself swell with something akin to pride.

A cold smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, tugs at the corners of his lips, his hands now on your thighs, holding them in place. Even through his gloves, he can tell how warm you are to the touch – a temptation, if there ever was one. Though you might look the innocent maiden, he can see for what you truly are and maybe his purpose was to punish you for it, to set you right. Indeed, filling your hole with his seed might even cleanse you from all the filth of your very core.

God is on his side, he’s certain of it. He’d forgive his obedient servant’s sin if it meant saving a soul from the eternal flames of Satan. There simply is no other way.

Your eyes widen, any trace of exhaustion wiped clean from your face. “Please, no… I don’t want to-“

“Hush”, his fingers dig deep into your flesh, the promise of bruises blooming on your skin, making his cock stir. “You know that lying is a sin, don’t you? Let alone to a man of faith.”

Tears threaten to spill down your cheeks at any moment, hands desperately clawing at the covers Kai’s sitting on, trying to cover yourself, to no avail. “P- Please…”

“I didn’t ask you to beg. I asked you a question and I expect an answer.” He’s wedging himself between your legs now, knees pressing them apart, while his hands easily get a hold of your wrists, holding them in place. How come your words express such dread, when your body is so easy – so willing – to get overpowered by him? Even if you don’t quite realize it yourself, your mind is clouded with lies and sin. “Let’s try this again”, he pauses. “You’re aware that lying to a man of faith in considered a sin, yes?”

A slow nod. “Yes, father.”

“And although you should know better, you still actively choose to disobey the word from our Lord, yes?”

“It’s not a lie!” Even though your whole body is violently trembling with pitiful sobs, Kai can’t quite help it, but be in awe of your form. You make such a perfect victim, he’s sure, any artist would compare you to the likes of Mary and Joan d’Arc – suffering for the greater good. Although, of course, he knows you better than to fall prey to your manipulation.

Pressing your balled up fists against his cock, he snarls in pure disdain, “Don’t play coy with me. Do you think I’m blind to your lust? Do you think yourself a victim to the attention of men you so desperately seek out?”

You flinch upon contact, though Kai notes, how you momentarily halt your wails, a faint squeal escaping you. He wonders, is that still part of the act that you’re trying to keep up or if you’re rightfully in stunned at the size of him. He grows harder just thinking about burying himself to the hilt inside your vile cunt. “N- no! Father, I never meant to- to-“

“For me to notice?”, he snaps and by the shock written all across your features he knows that he’s right. “You perverted whore.”

“It was never my intention to seduce you! I’m not lying! I swear, the Lord is my witness, I-“

Thwack. The sting on your cheek is relentless, but it’s a necessary evil. You have to learn how to behave, that there are consequences to your misdeeds, even if he has to beat it into you. “How dare you use the Lord’s name to spout all this nonsense”, it’s no question, but a statement. “I have no patience for whores with silver tongues.”

Kai leans over you, holding your wrists over your head, relishing in the sight of you being completely at his mercy. Your meek hiccups did nothing but spur him on even further, solidifying his decision in cleansing you free. “I’m so- sorry. You were so kind to me and took me under your wing when I needed help and- and I just…”

You squirm under his ever so watchful eyes. “Filthy thing”, his fingers enclose around your jaw, fingers forcing your lips to pucker open and spits. “To think giving you shelter would be enough was foolish of me, but we know better now, don’t we? You’re in need of drastic measures and it is me who has to whip you into shape. But fear not, I will not falter to bring you to the light side. I’ll fuck the virtue into you if I need to.”

It all happens so fast, you can barely keep up. One moment he hikes up the skirt of your frilly, little nightgown, chilly air hitting your exposed skin, the next he’s pumping his leaking cock right in front of your pussy lips. You try with all your strength – which admittedly, isn’t a lot – to get away from him, but he’s a strong man. And you should already know, shouldn’t you? Haven’t you spent night and night again, admiring his physique when he so graciously read the bible for you? Haven’t you fantasized about those very arms holding your naked body against his as he’d plunge into you in rapid speed? He’s right, you muse, you’re nothing but a common slut.

“God forgive me”, he groans and gets to work.

Funny, how such innocent glances can lead to such thorough punishment. Or was it redemption at last? You can’t tell anymore – too lost in the feelings of his palm, striking your thighs, face, tits; his hips clashing into your own with such force, it’s hard not to wince from pain; his stern look casting down at you and promising both salvation and damnation. Filthy thing, you repeat in your head, filthy, filthy, filthy. You should be grateful a man of God deems you worthy of his attention, let alone his cock.

Your insides are burning and your lungs feel like they might give out any minute, too exhausted from all the sobbing and crying, but Kai stays relentless. “Father, please”, you plead.

His response is sinister, but you know, a filthy thing like you deserves it. “Patience is a virtue”, he pants. “But what would you know about virtue?”

And he’s right.

[theladyscarlettt]

Forgotten Figures (pt. 5)

This part is longer than the other parts, I apologize to all my fellow ADD/ADHD readers. However, the length was needed for the plot and character arcs (specifically a certain elf.) I really hope you all like it and keep a look out for the Easter Egg I left for you. ~The Lady Scarlettt

Link to Forgotten Figures (pt. 4)

---

*Warning: a suggestive scene, mild language

---

She paced the chamber floor, the words of Thranduil plaguing her thoughts. She looked at the chair in which he occupied the evening before, rage consuming her. She sucked in her breath to hold back a cry, walked over to the chair and slung it across the room. The chair slammed into her night stand, causing the daggers to fall to the ground. She knelt down to pick one up, her eyes beginning to sting. She turned the smooth blade in her clammy hands, and thought of what she would say to him. 

She could tell him about his father’s visit, but it would spark a very, unwanted conflict. She even tossed around the idea of fleeing the kingdom, but that was a foolish, cowardly and selfish notion. While her love for the prince was enough, she could not deny the unsettling burden that came with the idea of leaving. Mirkwood was her home. She was raised here, Tauriel was here, and as much as her present circumstances caused her great peril, her loyalty was to the crown, for she has known nothing else.

She simply was a creature with a title that held no knowledge of the true cruelty, sorrow and inequity the world held. As she sat dazed by the colors of the white gemmed speckled daggers, she understood the days of fantasizing and dreaming were no more. Her childhood, through the night, had abandoned her and left her with nothing but hope, the most dangerous of all emotions.

Her decision came to her, and so did a knock at the door.

She jumped slightly, gripping the dagger in her hand. She wiped her eyes and frantically stood trying to find somewhere to conceal the white gem handled daggers. 

“One moment!” she called, finding the wooden box they were gifted in. She placed the dagger inside, hesitated, then locked it.

She approached the door trying to calm her breathing, as she slowly opened the door, she saw a worried Tauriel. She let out a sigh of relief.

“Y/N,” she smiled warmly, “Are you alright? I heard you were not feeling well, is there anything I can do?” 

Y/N forced a congested cough, “I will be alright tomorrow, thank you for your concern.” 

Tauriel looked past her into the disheveled room, than back to Y/N, “Are you sure, you’re alright?” not waiting for an answer she walked past her into the room.

“I- ugh.” Y/N groaned, closing the door. 

Tauriel inspected the room and began to pick up clothing, books and bottles. 

“Tauriel,” Y/N groaned, “I’m alright really, you do not have to clean for me.” 

Tauriel, ignoring her picked up the wooden box on the bed. “I’ve never seen this before, it’s beautiful.” She turned to Y/N. “What’s in it?” She asked, turning it in her hands.

“Nothing, just some old letters from... my parents.” Y/N lied.

Tauriel smiled sadly and laid the box down, “Is that what it is? I can’t believe its been so long ago.”

Y/N paused, in all the chaos she had forgotten it was the anniversary of her parents passing. She slumped and sat on the other end of the bed.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to barge in, I just needed to know you were alright. Two guards were found unconscious last night outside the West Wing.” Tauriel said, trying to change the topic. 

Y/N perked up, “The West Wing? Why that’s where the royal vault is. Who would do such a thing?”

“I am uncertain, but the King is investigating everyone on their whereabouts last night.” She said.

“Was something stolen?” Y/N questioned.

“I’m not sure but someone from one of the units said a few of the White Gems of Lasgalen were missing. I’m sure it was merely a superstition for we all know the lengths the King will go to for those pieces of rock.” She laughed.

Y/N suddenly felt ill at the coincidence of timing, she looked to the box by Tauriel.

Tauriel turned to face Y/N, “Y/N! Why you look faint.” She moved closer to her friend, “Are you sure I can not fetch you some water or-”

“Tauriel,” Y/N whispered, “I need to ask a favor of you.”

“Yes, anything.” She said with concerned eyes.

“I want you to take that box, go to the woods and bury it, but do not tell me where.” She whispered.

Tauriel looked from Y/N to the box with suspicion, “Are those not your last ties to your family?”

“I know I must move on,” Y/N said desperately “but I do not know I have the strength to do so. Please, rid me of its sight, that’s all I ask of you.” 

Tauriel looked to her friend, then to the box. While there were no words spoken, there were none needed, for some reason or another, she understood.

“Y/N you are like a sister to me, and I trust you more than life its self.” She grabbed the box, “I only hope you trust me the same.”

Y/N looked to Tauriel, tears in her eyes, “I do. I promise to you-”

“Do not make promises you can not keep.” Tauriel said and stood, “I will do as you have said, all I ask is, in time, for your truth. Until then, I will wait for you.” She left, closing the door softly behind her.

---

Y/N lay asleep in her bed, when the window opened from outside. The prince stuck his head in and was alarmed by the disarray of the room. When he spotted her amongst the mess, he stepped in, quietly closing the window behind him.

“Y/N,” he whispered, creeping over to her bed. 

She turned in her sleep, a soft moan escaping her lips.

He smiled sweetly at her resting face. It never ceased to amaze him how she always seemed so graceful, even in her slumber. He sat softly on the bed, and placed a hand on her arm. “Y/N,” he whispered again.

Her eyes shot open but before he could react, she grabbed his wrist twisting it behind his back and latched her arm around his neck, pulling his body to her.

“It’s me- It’s agh,” he gagged, “It’s me!”

Her eyes widened in embarrassment, “Legolas! Forgive me, I thought- I thought you were someone else.” She released him and her eyes frantically searched the room.

“Hey, Hey.” He hushed, grabbing her shoulder, “Are you alright? I should be the one frightened, not you.” he laughed.

She looked to him, her breathing slowing. “I’m sorry” she said placing a hand over her chest.

“It’s alright, you’re alright,” he sang, pulling her into him, “Are you alright?”

“I do not know,” she said her eyes checking the room again.

He pulled back, with a worried expression, “Has something happened? Tauriel told me you were ill.”

She almost scoffed but caught herself, “I’m alright, truly. I just ate something sour I suppose. Tauriel? Did you prompt her?”

“Why no,” Legolas chuckled, “Father and I were coming back through the forest from the river, when I spotted Tauriel alone in the woods. She looked tired, so I offered her my horse, that’s when she told me she was out looking for Athelas, for your fever.” He placed a hand on her check, “Seems they worked.” he smiled.

“So, she did do it” Y/N mumbled, feeling guilty for questioning her friend’s loyalty.

“Do what?” he questioned.

“You never miss a beat do you?” she teased.

“Never.” he grinned, leaning back against the headboard, realizing she was hiding something.

Thranduil’s words echoed in the back of her mind as she stared at Legolas. The dreadful hope she so clung to, quarreled with the reality she now faced. She could no longer look him in the eyes. 

Legolas felt something was severely wrong but he was not sure what. He looked around her room at the piled clothing, opened books and overturned furniture. He sighed, “I wish you would tell me what is the matter. I feel as if I am to do with it.” he reached out to test her and she jerked away. “So, it is.”

“I can not do this anymore, Legolas.” she blurted out.

He blinked, “What do you mean?” he asked, even though he knew what she implied.

She stood, biting her finger, as she did when she was nervous or in deep thought, “This. Us. I can not continue to see you.” her voice cracked.

He sat up on the edge of the bed, “and why not?”

“You said it yourself, we can no longer sneak around for the rest of our lives. We were never meant to be together and deep down you know it, practically everything is against it.” With every word she spoke, her heart began to break

“What has prompted such speech from you?” Legolas questioned, with a bitter tone. “Was it not two evenings ago you said-”

“I know what I said, damn you.” She spat. “But I also know that we are fools to think we have the privilege to enjoy such pleasures. We do not have that freedom. You are the prince, you are the heir to the throne-”

“To hell with the throne,” He stood, the light in his eyes now gone, “To hell with the titles! You know, I care nothing for it or the riches it holds. It is not and has never been the life I wanted, I was merely born into it by chance.”

“Then why don’t you just walk away, if you fucking hate it so much.” she yelled, shocked by her new found anger.

He looked at her, like she were a fool, “because I can’t.”

“and why not?” she asked, trying to maintain the act but there was little to no confidence in her attempts.

“My father, would never allow his only son to leave, you have no idea who he truly is or what he is capable of.” His eyes fell.

“Legolas,” she breathed. She looked to the ceiling to keep the tears from streaming down her face. She could not do go through with it. “Legolas, I’m sorry, I did not mean any of what I said. I didn’t know what to do. I was just frightened because your father, he-”

“Will not accept us, I know.” he said flatly, not meeting her eyes. 

“No, no, Legolas, he came-” She tried to reach for the words to fix the situation.

“If he does not, I will leave.” he said.

Her eyes widened, “What? No. Legolas you can not leave. Not over this, not over me, that’s so foolish of you.”

He turned to face her, “Then let me be a fool.” He approached her, “I rather live my life with meaning, then live it meaningless. For you, I would do it.”

“Legolas, one does not simply walk away from such duties,” she rejected him by backing away. This was the worse possible scenario she hoped would not happen. The heir, abandoning the realm. The chaos that could unfold at the news of an open throne with no one acting as it’s rightful successor. Wars would unfold. Wars because of her.

She felt her back press against a wall. She looked into his ocean eyes, the moon light was perfectly illuminating his silver, starlight hair. She felt many things in that moment, many things one could not help to feel after someone professed their love in such a way. “Legolas,” she pleaded, “Please, do not make this mistake, on my behalf. I forbid it.”

He looked down at her, and shook his head, “I’m willing to accept the costs of my errors, if they are so much as that.”

She could not tell if it were guilt or lust that made her give in to him but she did.

He knew she withheld something more from him, something important. He could not help, but wonder if his father had threatened her. However, he knew in her present state of manic, she would not speak, unless, she felt she could trust his actions. While her mind was far more intelligent than his, the desires of the flesh, unfortunately would have their way, in her vulnerable state. He felt shameful as his mind tossed around the one thing that would obtain him this information.

“Forgive me,” he said, his breath hot and dripping with shame.

So, he seduced her.

She felt his lips press against her’s as his hands ran down to find the curve of her back. His lips were soft, and his taste was sweet. She found herself, unconsciously, kissing him back harder each time. He smiled through her kisses, and eagerly tugged at her lip with his teeth. She moved her hands up to his tunic’s collar, pulling him towards her. To balance himself, he placed his hand up against the wall, and with the other, slipped his hand down to her thigh, pulling it up. She leaned against the wall as he kissed her passionately, his tongue familiarizing itself with its surroundings.

All of the fear and anger that had seemed so prominent before, slowly seemed more foreign to her with each passing second. She had never felt so timid, yet so daring in her life.

She reached up, gathering his hair between her fingers and pulled his head to the side to reveal his strong, veined neck. She placed light kisses alongside his jaw line and then began to mark it. She barely heard the moan, escape his lips as he leaned against her. Before she could finish, he impatiently patted her thigh, to which she jumped lightly and he picked her up, shoving her back against wall, to begin leaving a trail of kisses along her collar bone. Her eyes fluttered as she dug her nails into his back. 

He suddenly set her down, to which she looked to him disappointed, but he had a smug look on his red face. He quickly bent down, grabbing her behind the knees and slung her over his shoulder. She could not hold back the laughter that radiated throughout the chamber. He spun her around once, for good measure before flipping her onto the bed. She began to laugh that sweet laugh he loved but he placed a finger over her slightly swollen lips. 

“Shh,” he hushed, “Secret Scandal, remember?’ 

She rolled her eyes and playfully slapped him. 

He then grew serious, guilt stopping him, “Are you sure? We can always wait a while longer.”

She smiled up at him, her fingers tracing the gorgeous, ethereal features of his face. “Promise me,” she looked down, “No matter what happens, you will not forsake me.”

He looked at her, not knowing it then, but the lie in which he would tell, would haunt him for the rest of his life, “I would never do anything to harm you. You have my word.”

She looked up to him, stroking his face lovingly, feeling safe within his presence, “Then, yes, I’m sure.” Her breath danced with his as he kissed her, this time, somehow, even more sweetly.

---

“You see Gimli,” she said, “It’s funny how people lie when they are afraid.”

Link to Forgotten Figures (pt. 6)

[katherinemallory]

#10 The roulette of feelings

Hell is empty and all the previous chapters are here: #1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #6 #7 #8 #9

After a few days in London we caught our flight to Monte Carlo. I’m not sure how long we stayed there. This mission felt like a long holiday since the very beginning.

Still on board we agreed that Bond would be the one to play poker and I would pose as his wife, or, as he has put it, “a crown jewel”. Usually I don't like being treated as such, since my experience in behaving like a damsel is close to a bare minimum, but this time I really enjoyed it. Bond was clearly pleased with his leading role in this show, and - while sitting at the poker table - he started to take chances more eagerly. He boasted about his poker skills all the time and I kept working from the shadows, observing him and our rivals, and making sure that we don’t expose ourselves too much. A win-win situation.

We were quite busy spending time at the casino, discussing the tactics, or using all the possible attractions offered by the city of Monte Carlo. The only contact I had with the outside world during the first week were my reports to MI6 which went directly to M, delivered to him by Eve Moneypenny.

One day, while Bond was on the meeting with our liaison (it's amazing the SIS has got its people... everywhere), my phone rang. I picked it up and sat on my bed, crossing my legs.

"Hi Eve. It’s nice to hear you. Did you... find out anything?"

"Not yet, Kath, but I'm working on it," she reassured me. "I just wanted to know how you're doing. You haven't been in touch for *days*. I’ve only noticed your daily reports."

"I'm more than fine, thank you. And I’m sorry for not being in touch... I have to admit I've been kinda busy, but... I won’t complain. Finally I do all those things I needed to recharge my batteries."

“I can’t believe what I hear! Does it mean I should become a double-0 if I want to feel more relaxed?” she teased me.

“You definitely should try it,” I replied, smiling. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s absolutely true. I enjoy the high-life more than I expected... All those fancy parties, drinks, wealthy men, late-night strolls around the streets of Monte Carlo... You get used to it pretty quickly," I replied in delight. "Sometimes I forget that I am here for the purpose of work.”

“It’s great to hear that, Kath. You deserve it, especially after what happened in Geneva,” said Eve and hesitated. “And... And w-w-what about Bond...? I guess it’s him who takes you on these late-night strolls?” 

I laid on the bed, putting one pillow under my head. I looked straight at the white ceiling.

“Well... We spend each night at the casino, pretending to be a husband and a wife who just want to enjoy themselves... In the mornings Bond tries to teach me how to play poker. I fail miserably every time!” I chuckled. “We share a suite. I had some concerns before, but so far he behaves."

Eve's voice went up really high.

"You mean he did give up on you?”

I tilted my head to the right, placing my cheek on one of the pillows and pressing the phone to my ear.

"He didn’t. We flirt regularly," I replied, as I scratched my forehead with my left hand. “But he’s more patient now, I reckon. And more self-confident. He knows I can’t pay much attention to the other men at the casino, cause it would blow our cover immediately. He knows I wouldn’t do that... This is what makes him... erm... powerful. And he probably thinks I will fall for him eventually,” I added, rolling my eyes. “And I’m afraid he’s right.”

“Uh, you don’t really *mean* it, do you?” she asked, concerned. “There’s no pressure... This mission won’t last forever.”

“Honestly, Eve? Sometimes I feel like it will last forever... And Bond’s presence gets more addictive every day,” I said, lying on my back again. “I used to make fun of it, but I’m afraid I can’t resist Bond much longer. I mean... Not because he’s irresistible, but because... I really start to feel something for him.”

I took a deep breath and then continued:

“It all depends on what you find. If Mallo... erm, if the man I asked you to spy on... is married, then I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t have an affair with Bond...”

“Fair enough,” commented Eve. “At least you know what Bond wants from you. Suppose that’s something. But didn’t you admit the other day that you loved Ma...”

“It’s more complicated than you think," I interrupted. "When you spend all days in Bond’s company, it changes your perspective entirely... You’d better hurry then. I am so confused recently...” Damn, I thought. There is no need to burden Eve with all of this... I should probably change the subject. “... but you didn’t tell me anything about yourself, how was your day at the SIS? Any news?”

“Business as usual. I can’t share much detail, but it seems like Amanda’s got reassigned as she had requested.”

“Good for her. Send my love.”

“I will. And I promise to get in touch as soon as I find out anything about... *him*.”

...

The upcoming days passed so fast that I didn’t think about anything apart from what was going on in Monte Carlo. Intuitively both myself and Bond concentrated on the everyday tasks of the mission, but it turned out most of the time we just had fun, which meant our Walther and Beretta were absolutely useless.

Since the only moments I had only to myself were those just before going to bed in the evenings, I often spent them on analyzing my own feelings and, as a result, I developed a certain kind of insomnia. Or, I should rather call it “a difficulty with falling asleep”.

My thoughts were centred on Mallory. I miss him. I miss him dearly, but only when I have time to think about what he's doing in his old-fashioned office in London. When Bond is around, it’s only him who matters to me. Why is that? What the hell has happened to me? I don't know, but it's disturbing. And I get tired every time I try to sort things out in my mind... Can I really sleep with Bond if Mallory’s married? It’s not about giving up on a married man (which is an obvious decision from my point of view, as I would never break up *anyone’s* marriage), but about being honest to myself. Do I really love Mallory if I can fantasize about Bond? Or do I really feel something for Bond if my next move depends on Mallory’s marital status?

After a few evenings of such intense thinking I realized that no matter the arguments, such analysis is pointless. I could be thinking about this for a year and still didn’t come up with a right solution. I decided to wait and see how the case would resolve itself.

On the last day - it was one of those splendid days in June when you feel the most alive - we went to the casino for one more time, looking more dashing than ever. Little did we know, when we walked hand in hand into the casino - Bond wearing a black dinner jacket and me in an evening scarlet dress - that Bond would win the night’s poker game, gaining an enormous amount of money.

Late at night, around 3 A.M. I went straight to the poker table and brought Bond a dry martini (I've already had a few of them myself to relieve the boredom).

"Congratulations," I said, handing him a martini.

"Thank you," replied Bond and drank half of his glass.

I looked at him with aroused interest while he was drinking. I was never good at poker and, as much as I didn't want to, I had to admit the way he played that night impressed me.

"What do we do now?"

For a while, he observed the olives that seemed as if they were swimming inside the glass, and then gave me a quick glance.

"We pack and come back to London."

"Is that so? What about the winnings?" I asked in disbelief, expecting some kind of joke rather than a matter-of-fact response.

"I will have to transfer them to MI6. I have already contacted M, he should send me the instructions in the next few hours."

"You've already contacted M? Someone's in a hurry. Was your time here *that* bad?” I taunted him.

Bond smirked, but didn't say anything. I glanced around the room. The people started to leave the place.

"So, it means we came here broken and we leave broken, despite the win?" I asked, laughing.

"One could say that," Bond agreed. "But I can still afford a dinner and a drink. Would you join me tonight for a humble celebration?"

"With pleasure. Let's enjoy our last hours in this marvellous place,” I said, taking him by the arm.

After the dinner in one of the restaurants at the casino, we went for our last walk around the streets of Monte Carlo. Both me and Bond became unexpectedly talkative, probably because of too many drinks we had to celebrate the happy ending of the mission.

It could have been around 5 A.M when the walk started to feel too exhausting, and we went back to our shared suite.

"Would you like another?" asked Bond, pointing to the bottle of bourbon at the table, just after we locked the door to the suite.

"Yes," I replied. "The last one for tonight."

I have no idea why I agreed to this, cause I've never been drinking much or mixing alcohols in the past. After Bond handed me my glass, I let my hair down and rushed to the balcony. I need to see this amazing city just one more time before I go to sleep, I thought. I observed the skyline, waiting for Bond to join me.

"To the king and queen of Monaco," said Bond and we clinked glasses, standing next to each other.

I smiled at him and drank the whole glass with my eyes closed, but I still could tell he was staring at me.

"You know, Katherine, it's been one of my favourite missions so far."

"Really?”

"Yes... It’s the simplicity of it,” he took off his dinner jacket, thrown it on the nearest chair, and then continued. “The task I'm really good at... the fairy-tale location, no rush... and the right woman. You," he said in his deep, smooth voice and put his glass on the floor.

Then he put one of his hands on the railing and turned to me, but didn’t say a word, as if he intended to find out how close to me I would allow him to move.

“It’s an honour to hear something like that from such an experienced double-0,” I said timidly, still holding the empty glass in my hands.

Bond gazed at me for a few seconds.

"It's true, I've been a double-0 for quite a while," he said and turned his head to look at the skyline of Monte Carlo, "but rarely did I feel this close with another agent. It's strange. I’ve always tried to avoid being emotionally attached to anyone. Cause of the job's nature and all that stuff."

This time it was me who stayed quiet. I just kept listening to him, realizing how much I *love* his voice and how could I listen to him talking *forever*. It occurred to me how beautiful his magnetic blue eyes were, especially in the middle of the night. One could say the same about Bond's face which now seemed to me like the face of the most handsome man on the planet. It should be illegal to be *that* handsome, I thought.

Bond turned his head to me.

"Then I've met you... and it seems I forget about all of those rules in the blink of an eye... it seems I don't control myself anymore."

I don't know how it happened, but in the next moment I found myself in Bond's arms. I felt his embrace, so tight, as if he wanted to protect me from all of the threats of this world. The glass dropped out of my hands and probably broke up, but we didn’t hear anything apart from the sound of our pumping hearts. I placed my hands on Bond’s chest, and we began to kiss, not being able to control the lust that started to fulfil our bodies. I quickly moved my hands to his neck and then the back of his head. I caressed his hair, which felt like the most pleasant material I have ever touched.

"You're the woman of my dreams," whispered Bond, when he started to kiss my neck. In response, I tilted my head back, but continued to touch his hair.

Out of the blue Bond picked me up and headed towards the bedroom. He was in a hurry, wanting to put me on his bed as soon as possible. He took off his shirt and laid down on me, holding my waist and passionately kissing my neck.

"Oh, James," I moaned, as the touch of his lips and hands started to turn me on. “Keep going... umm... And use that nice, deep voice of yours.”

“Like this?” he asked, lowering his voice and biting my ear. “Do you like it?”

“Yes...”

Oh my, I am in heaven. If he doesn't stop, I'll melt, I thought. I let Bond kiss me a few more times, but then moved to the other side of the bed to undress. Bond watched me hungrily as I took off my dress and stockings. And there I was, lying on his bed and wearing only my sexy black lingerie. I thought that he would eat me if he could.

I encouraged Bond with a sensual gesture, touching myself where I wanted to be touched the most. He couldn’t stand watching me for long, and came closer to kiss me again. He slowly moved from my belly and breasts to my neck.

“I've been waiting for this moment since the day we've met," he murmured, while kissing my collarbone.

I closed my eyes to double the thrill and make the experience more intense. My hands moved to his back and held him tighter.

"You drive me crazy," Bond whispered into my ear.

A fast thought crossed my mind. It's true what they say in the Service... nobody does it better... he's definitely a great lay... to hell with “the revenge plot”, go for it, Kath. I was just about to take off my bra, when I heard something was vibrating. I got a text. Great timing. I opened my eyes and reluctantly sat on the bed, bending down to the bedside cabinet.

"Oh, Katherine, just ignore it," said Bond who still caressed my waist with his right hand.

"Look who’s talking," I replied. "The most professional man in the Service... There’s no need to describe this to you..."

I looked at the screen and in that exact moment my adventurous mood was gone. I felt as if my heart stopped for a short while.

Hi, just wanted to let you know that I have some evidence. He's not married anymore. Love, Eve

I quickly locked the screen to prevent Bond from seeing the message, as I felt his touch on my back. He hugged me from behind, kissing my left shoulder.

"Shall we continue?" he asked in his naughty manner.

I froze in my tracks. What about M? How can I fight for him if I sleep with another man right now? I promised myself to fight for Mallory and I have to be consistent. This was fun, but... I love Mallory, right? It's high time to stop playing games... and to finally forget about Bond. Perhaps it's a good sign I got this message before we did antyhing reckless.

I stood up with my back to Bond, still holding the phone in my hands.

"I'm sorry James... but I can't do this,” I declared as seriously as I could.

"But why?" he asked calmly, but his voice was full of disappointment and sadness. "Was it something I did?"

Oh, dear James, I thought. If you only knew how perfectly you did everything...

"No," I replied and turned to him. My voice was shaking a bit. "It was... it was a wonderful night, but I've never slept with a co-worker before... and... I've just realized it would be wrong. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for this," I blurted out and felt a tear doing down my cheek.

Bond seemed not to believe me.

"You've *just* realized it? *Just* after you've got that message," he said, pointing to my phone. "I don't know what this is about, but... we've had such a great time here, why not celebrate it tonight? It doesn’t matter at all that we work together."

I turned my head in embarrassment, trying not to look at him. He stood up and came closer to me.

"I know that you like me," Bond said and placed his hands on my arms. "You can't simply deny our chemistry. You've seen what kind of magic it can cause... you don't have to ruin it."

I took his hands off me and went to the other side of the bed to grab my clothes.

"I'm really sorry, James. It's over."

"It's over before it even started... Strange, isn’t it?"

I ignored him, as I headed toward to the door leading to my part of the suite. I must have looked miserable in my sexy black lingerie, holding my evening dress, and being on the verge of a mental breakdown.

"I don't want to hurt you *again*," I said quietly with my hand on the doorknob.

Bond shook his head.

"You will hurt me if you leave,” he said calmly, but I knew he was full of anger. His eyes told me he was suspicious of everything I’ve said.

As I knew he had the very right to be suspicious, I turned my back on him, trying to get inside my part of the suite. My hands started to shake, making it impossible to quickly open the door.

“You still think about *him*, don’t you Kath...?” Bond asked in a raised voice, with his hands on his hips. “Why do you keep deceiving yourself? He’s not cut out for it! He doesn’t see you this way... and even if something happened between us he wouldn’t care!”

But I would, James. I would, I thought, going inside my part of the suite through the door. I couldn’t bear to look at those cold blue eyes again.

I went up straight to the bathroom and locked the door. I could not think of anything else than just bursting into tears.

You're so stupid, Kath. Mallory thinks you're responsible, but you're just stupid, I thought, looking at myself in the mirror. What was that for? Bond might be a womanizer, but no one deserves to be treated like that. No one. Does he use other women? He does. But it’s none of your business, Kath. You don't offer someone the pleasure and then deny it. You just don’t...

I spend a few minutes sitting on a bathroom’s floor and crying.

But looking on the bright side... at least I got my backup story. Everyone will see something’s happened between us, but no one will ask questions. And if there is a slightest chance M cares about me, he’ll get the message.

I can’t wait for this mission to be really over. By this time tomorrow I shall be in my apartment in London. Alone.

***

To be continued.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Tori Amos quotes

- Healing takes courage, and we all have courage, even if we have to dig a little to find it.

- I think that people who can't believe in fairies aren't worth knowing.

- I know I'm an acquired taste - I'm anchovies. And not everybody wants those hairy little things.

- Some of the most wonderful people are the ones who don't fit into boxes.

- I have so many different personalities in me and I still feel lonely.

- The violence between women is unbelievable.

- I'm too wacky for most weirdos. Who am I to judge?

- If they keep crashing stuff into the moon, the moon's gonna get pissed off, and the tides'll change, and all the women'll start PMS-ing together. Then you guys are going to fucking regret it.

- If you really want a challenge, just deal with yourself.

- I don't see myself as weird, I just see myself as honest.

- I see the dream and I see the nightmare, and I believe you can't have the dream without the nightmare.

- Some people are afraid of what they might find if they try to analyze themselves too much.

- Once the bleeding starts, the cleansing can begin.

- On some of my darkest days, Lucifer's the one who comes and gives me an ice cream.

- Most people would rather be sheep than stand on their own with antlers on.

- The sense of loss is such a tricky one, because we always feel like our worth is tied up into stuff that we have, not that our worth can grow with things we are willing to lose.

- When you've got the virgin and the whore sitting next to each other, they're likely to judge each other harshly.

- I think you have to know who you are.

- Get to know the monster that lives in your soul.

- Dive deep into your soul and explore it.

- I don’t want to renounce my dark side.

- The truth has always held an enormous interest for me.

- Healing for me is being able to sit next to the butcher and say 'Yes, I’m sitting next to the butcher now,' instead of saying 'there is no butcher'.

- This is very simple in the world of chicks; some are hoochies, some are not, and some should never try to be.

- We don't often see our own stories. Good artists are the ones that whisper our own stories back to us.

- Music is about all of your senses, not just hearing.

- Again, we go back to the power of words and how they can make you feel. They bring liberation or stagnation, they're chains.

- You don't have to apologize for growing and learning and changing your mind.

- Music has an alchemical quality.

- Certain relationships can just wear you down.

- Containment of your opinion is a must if you are going to nurture an artist's development.

- It's a good thing I'm curious, because sometimes I just research how a soccer player kicks a ball and the impact it has on his foot. I haven't used this yet, but I might.

- But over the years you can cultivate hate for the art you love.

- I don’t believe anyone’s story is boring. Every story has value because it belongs only to you.

- Sometimes I fantasize backstage about how people do their laundry. Woolite? Mixed-color loads? Do they fold? Do they press? Do they Shout it out? And the thing that kills me—do their whites come out dingy?

- Our generation has an incredible amount of realism, yet at the same time it loves to complain and not really change.

- We like our pain. And we’re packaging it, and we’re selling it.

- Festivals or radio shows can be the heavyweight championships of arrogantly detached clusterfucks.

- People who are addicted to power can live on the same street or attend the same school as us or even play on the world stage.

- None of us are this light and dark fantasy. What's dark to you may be light to me and vice versa.

- I don't think that many performers necessarily want to see their audience empowered. I think a lot of performers, no different from priests, need the hierarchy.

- Modern, celebrity-driven entertainment turns the stage into an altar, and so many celebrities refuse to be removed from those altars once they manage to ascend.

- All storytellers, all troubadours worth their salt knew their myths.

- The Sídh's historical myth is the source of the bastardized concept of a fairy—as if anyone gives a rat's ass.

- The problem with Christianity is, they think everything is about outside forces, good and evil. There's not a lot of inner work encouraged.

- Over the last few hours I've allowed myself to feel defeated, and just like she said if you allow yourself to feel the way you really feel, maybe you won't be afraid of that feeling anymore.

- I'm the queen of the nerds.

- Don't give up. Don't listen to these foolish critics that are so small minded they don't get it tonight.

- Sometimes listening to music can motivate you.

- I think even in a good marriage, especially if you stay together long enough, there are going to be events that happen.

- An ounce of breast milk is even more potent than the finest tequila.

- Music is always a reflection of what's going on in the hearts and minds of the culture.

- Many people lock a part of themselves away. It's a bit sacred.

- I've always seen the songs as having a consciousness.

- Our world is a huge mess right now, and not big enough for masses of intolerant people.

- We are all fairies living underneath a leaf of a lily pad.

- That is some funky-fresh, pop lockin' shit.

- If I saw someone destroy a piano I'd fuckin' kill 'em. Wouldn't think twice.

- I experiment with things that are usually an internal experience, because that's just what excites me. And yes, it does sometimes give me visions.

- Some of those trips were eighteen hours long and I'll never forget, once I ended up sitting by the bush trying to ask the flowers why they didn't like me. It's like, Why can't I be your friend?

- You might not like my story because I'm not gonna tell you how it ends yet, and you need to travel it with me.

- I just imagined a huge juicy vagina coming out of the sky, raining blood over all those racist, misogynist fuckers.

- You can't control your popularity

- If you can't create physical life, you find a life force. If that's in music, that's in music.

- I started to find this deep, primitive rhythm, and I started to move to it.

-I held hands with sorrow, and I danced with her, and we giggled a bit

- I usually get myself into situations that cause sparks.

- I love feeling alive, I love walking out in the cold in my bare feet and feeling the ice on my toes.

- For the most part, pianos are female to me.

- Anger is natural. It's part of the force. You just have to learn to hang out with it.

- In our minds, love and lust are really separated.

- I think all the boys that write the screaming stuff would write the best love songs

- When you stop putting yourself on the line, and you don't touch your own heart, how do you expect to touch other people?

- Guys would sleep with a bicycle if it had the right color lip gloss on. They have no shame. They're like bull elks in a field.

- Your worst enemies are made when you ignore people.

- It's as if the horses have come to take us back, to descend, to find the dark side. By dark I mean what's hidden, not necessarily satanic.

- There's room for everybody on the planet to be creative and conscious if you are your own person. If you're trying to be like somebody else, then there is isn't.

- Sometimes you have to do what you don't like to get to where you want to be.

- You know that saying, bad things don't happen to good people? That's a lie.

- I'm not a habit, I'm a lifestyle.

- There are a lot of hidden nerds.

- People who become the front runners often used to be outcasts or loners.

- Um, don't get me wrong because I love boys, it's just that sometimes we don't need you.

- There are only ten ideas under the sun. What makes the difference is how you spice them.

- So I'm in Virginia, and I had crabs--I keep saying that! I had crab sickness, I had eaten bad crabs in Maryland!

- I'm a winter girl; I like coming out when things are desolate and everybody's ready to slit their wrists.

- You can only be you. A lot of times it's never enough for people.

- I've never played the guitar, except throwing it against the wall cause it was pissed off I couldn't play it.

- Truly, I was a sweetheart when I was little, like the Honeysuckle Faery. Sweet-pea. But sweet-peas are not popular after second grade. Sweet-peas become nerds really fast.

- I really enjoy having a giggle with a friend, but then someone crosses my line, then I don't really take it lightly.

- I sometimes forget I'm not 7'2" and a Viking.

- A boundary was crossed. And maybe I drew a boundary, consciously.

- It was a bit violent, a bit sexual.

- When nothing makes sense, music seems to come and bring me a margarita and sit down with me.

- You don't have to justify everything. Being pissed off is just absolutely okay.

- There is a level of the vampire in me, which is OK.

- It hurts me when a woman doesn't come through for me, more than a man.

- I'm a grown woman. I've earned my experiences, my scars.

- What is an angel but a ghost in drag?

- I'm beginning to accept and love the parts of me, of women that I was trained to hate all my life.

- People can be so vicious toward the imaginary world and it saddens me. You kill a lot of little people's dreams that way.

- Even if you don't read history or you aren't interested in anything that happened before the '60s, there are reasons why we think the way we do.

- That's how the story goes but I don't believe the story.

- I would find myself either the lovey-doveyest-woviest sweet pea, or a mad-woman.

- I believe in eating.

- You can't change what happened. And nobody's asking you to forgive.

- Why be afraid of these cuddly, soft, adorable things?

- I have good days. Like if I get really good coffee ice cream with just the right amount of chocolate syrup.

- A lot of people see themselves as victims, even when you have to stand in line for ice cream.

- It's so difficult to be critical of children because they need to discover themselves. We're always telling them, "No, the tree has green leaves!"

- I'm tired of being a rebel. Now I just want to be me.

- When things get really empty for me, empty in my outer life, in my inner life, the music world, the songs come across galaxies to find me.

- Do you know what it's like to be a girl and have blood running down your legs and think that you're dying, just because no one's told you that's what happens? It's horrible.

- An angel's face is tricky to wear constantly.

- Mess with me and you will not survive.

- I think that happiness is when you can let yourself feel every emotion you want at any time instead of being a lying little fuck.

- I'm not into this dieting thing.

- The cross has been used as a weapon, as it has been used against all women throughout the ages. And that's the greatest evil of all.

- I think you've got to find a giggle somewhere in stuff that would scare the poop outta ya.

- A cornflake girl is Wonderbread whereas a raisin girl is whole wheat bread.

- I would like to think I'm a raisin girl, because in my mind they're more open minded. Cornflake girls are totally self centered, don't care about anything or anybody.

- I like butter and the people who like butter."

- I'm known as that girl who has tea with the Devil.

- I'm not afraid of sadness.

- Everybody has creativity and each person has it in a different way. Some people aren't musical, some musicians can't even think about painting or gardening. There's so many different ways to be creative.

- I wanna be burned, definitely burned, like the witches.

- Give the kids tools, so they can go build their own houses; not the blueprint of what the houses should be.

- Look at me now. I'm breast feeding pigs.

- I wish I had more of a sense of humor.

- I can be so hard on people.

- If somebody's being a jerk, I would like to go wee on their head. And then I do that, mentally.

- The people on the internet know more about what I am doing than I do. Like, they will say that I am going to be in this mall on this day, and sure enough, I am there!

- I'm like a lioness who kills her own prey and no one else has to kill for her. But if some other lioness comes to me and says "I just got a good prey, do you want a piece?" I can say "of course" - and the other way around.

- There are things that I would disagree with Jesus about, and I feel really good about that.

- History has recorded some pretty nasty things that have happened to people. I think we remember. I think it's in our cells and I think it can still hurt sometimes."

- I don't believe in the saying that it all happens for the best, it's just not appropriate.

- Of course I believe in past lives, I mean, three quarters of the human race believes this, it's not like a great new thought here.

- I use innocence in my demeanor like a Venus flytrap.

- I do like to talk about things no one wants to hear at the dinner table.

- I'm not interested in being a really nice person; I want to be a creative, responsible person that's balanced.

- Boys are cute but food is cuter

- Do any of you dream about crocodiles?

-I know I dream about crocodiles. I'm obsessed with them.

- If people can't see things from the other side that's not my problem, it's theirs.

- I think I give equal time in my hatred, right?

- Sometimes I'm mad at some guy, sometimes I'm mad at some girl, and sometimes I'm totally loving some guy, so and sometimes I'm loving some girl.

_ Well, Pele is the volcano goddess and I thought of like, um, sacrificing some of the boys in my life to her but then I decided that that wasn't really a very good idea.

- Anger originates from envy and outrage, not being seen, not being heard.

- We don't know where souls go when they die. We don't know a lot of things. We didn't create the planets. We didn't do this all by ourselves. So, therefore, why wouldn't there be a creative force if it can create humans and planets?

- I've been hanging out with some of the Hell's Angels in England. They're some of the sweetest people I've ever met.

- Real friends have to be understanding of each other, and their faults.

- I think I'm really hard to get to know on a personal level.

- Thailand is calling me.

- People I see laughing all the time, check for razor blades in their anal-force underwear, because it's just a little lie.

- I'm not interested in taking drugs. I do hallucinogens once in a while for journey experiences.

- I hear the wine. It's like a structure. I see it as a piece. I hear it before I taste it. It's calling me. And then I start to hear it when I'm tasting it.

- Not that I use crystal suppositories, I'm not New Age.

- A peach tree says, 'Some of me will be juicy and some of me will be dry I'm not growing for you; I grow because that's what I do.' You always hear some person complain about how dry their peach is and the peach says, 'It's not our fault you have no understanding on the proper use for dry peaches.'

- My theory is that women were the Mona Lisas for a long time and now men are Mona Lisas with little goatees. They are our muses.

- If you're gonna tell a story, you have to grow into the head of the rapist as well as the raped.

- He was a lite sneeze, and not the flu. Most boys would like to think they're the flu, wouldn't they? But they're really just a achoo.

- If you call me an airy-fairy new age hippy waif, I will cut your penis off.

- It's a double-edged sword and if you pretend you don't want it you're a liar and that is going to rip your soul to pieces.

- I'm always dreaming that these bulls are chasing me. Half the time I don't get away - I almost get over the fence, and then they gore me.

- I believe in energy, everything is energy. And therefore sometimes magic can be created if somebody is open to letting energy do what it does, instead of being so cynical, that you miss magic happening.

- I feel like a work really has many sides to it when people have such extreme reactions. When a work is greeted with just, 'Oh, you know, it's nice', then it's not affecting people. So love it or hate it, that's okay.

- I am a real believer in looking at pain and taking it out shopping.

- The music is the magic carpet that other things take naps on.

- I just try to strip myself, peel myself like an onion. At different layers I discover stuff.

- Why is the world where it is? It's so deep-rooted, if we really start looking, and we might not like what we find. But I think we have to, we have to ask the questions.

- I'm beyond the fury of youth.

- I love young women who are angry. They're wild mustangs.

- I didn't want her looking and hearing me and thinking, "Oh my God, that's a scary lady!"

- They felt that it was detrimental material for their children and that it was blasphemous.

- They've decided they kinda' have you figured out.

- My nightmares are so bad, that I mostly reject it when my friends want to take me to a cinema to watch a horror movie. Then I say, "No, thank you. I will dream in a few hours."

- I don't know of anybody who's gonna be fulfilled if they get hit by a bus. You have to surrender to that eternal need to be fulfilled.

- How do you know I'm not having a margarita with Jesus tonight at 10 o'clock?

- Let's be honest, religion has not supported women and men exploring all sorts of their sides, their unconscious. It has not been supportive of, you know, go into the places without shame, without blame, without judgment, and just let yourself really see what's cooking in there.

- I think human beings are so much more capable of what they told us we're capable of.

- Anyone can attend yoga, kabbalah classes, church, lectures by the 'Dalai Lama', yada, yada, yada - but can you be present for your life, and live with the way you treat other people?

- Only a few people should have a "greatest hits". I'm not one of those people.

- I feel like our leaders have hijacked America's personality, and taken her to personality plastic surgery school. And they decided this is who she is.

- The playground is the biggest war-zone in the world.

- You have to read visionaries to have visions.

- They squash the baby bird because their bird got squashed.

- I love reading. I'll read the first sentence and if it makes sense to me I pick it up.

- It's ridiculous saying there's only one true faith, it's like saying there's only one map to get you up the mountain. I want to see those other maps, man.

- I kinda have all the aspects of my personality round one table for spaghetti.

- If it's too loud, turn it up.

- I was doing drugs with a South American shaman, and I really did visit the devil and, well, I had a journey.

- There is no passion without broken crockery.

- You have to ask, how could a nation nearly vote in somebody who isn't qualified for the job?

- We're living in a frightening time and I wish people would wake up and realise they're surrendering their civil liberties.

- Who wouldn't want to shag a queen?

[picficskpopstyle]

Immoral (Part 10)

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9

Group: BTS

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Smut

You'd stopped drinking about an hour ago but your head was definitely swimming. Hoseok had been laughing and smiling for the past 10 minutes. Jimin's speech slurred every so often and his eyes were slightly lidded. Jungkook had passed out with Tae in Jimin's room about 15 minutes ago. Yoongi...well, you couldn't really tell just how far along he was. Rather than looking drunk, he somehow managed to just look tired.

“I really wouldn’t have expected you to come here” Jimin laughed, face reddened. Yoongi tilted his cup, drinking the last of whatever fruity concoction Hobi had mixed. He put his empty cup on the floor beside him.

“Why not? I’m getting to know you guys” Yoongi answered.

Jimin's smile quickly slid into a frown and he covered it by taking a sip from his cup.

"Getting to know some a little better than others," he grumbled, finishing the last of his drink. There was a slight pause as you stared at Jimin. Obviously, he was referring to you. Even if it was just a hint of it, you could hear his jealousy seep out. Hoseok must've heard it too because he seamlessly came up with a cover story.

"Yeah, we've seen you with Amanda-" Hobi teased, nudging Yoongi's arm. 

"-well, you have her until Jungkook comes around" he laughed. Yoongi didn't seem to notice the light tension in the air and you mentally thanked Hoseok.

"She scares me a little," Yoongi laughed. 

Jimin's eyes connected with yours for a split second and you stood up.

"I'm going to head out," you announced. You gathered the mess you made and headed into their small kitchen area. As you dumped your trash in the bin, Jimin walked in and leaned against the fridge. He looked you over, knowing that he'd messed up...again.

"___-" he started, apology geared up.

"Jimin, you don't need to apologize" you sighed. Truthfully, if you were comparing his past self with now, his snarky comment was basically a compliment.

He went quiet and watched you turn to face him. 

"I've been trying" he offered with a smile. He scratched the back of his head and you kicked yourself for finding it cute. You were not in the right mindset for any of this.

"Yeah, I know. I appreciate it" you smiled back. There was a quiet moment between the two of you until Hobi's laugh echoed throughout the building. 

"Come on" Jimin said, opening his arms. You walked into his hug and he kissed your cheek as usual.

"See you tomorrow" he said, releasing you. He walked with you back to the other boys and you slid your shoes on.

"It is 4 in the morning," Hoseok commented, eyes on his phone screen.

"4? We have church in, like, 5 hours" Yoongi said, sitting up. 

"Yeah, you might want to get some sleep," Jimin suggested. Yoongi scratched his forehead and grabbed his keys from the table. He looked down at them and sighed.

"I need to call a car or something," he groaned.

"I can drive your car to the church tomorrow," Jimin offered. He reached his hand out and Yoongi tossed his keys to him. 

"Can you walk ___ home? Your ride will probably get there by the time you make it to her place" Hoseok asked, beginning to clean up. Jimin didn't comment, instead moving to help clean up. 

"Uhh, yeah, sure" Yoongi agreed. Not wanting to make Jimin any more uncomfortable, you walked to Hobi and gave him a hug goodbye. He roughly pressed his lips into your cheek and you complained, smacking him away. Hoseok laughed and let you go, throwing a goodbye in Yoongi's direction.

Yoongi pulled his shoes on and said his goodbyes as he opened the door for you.

"Hoseok's fruit drink-" he said as the door closed behind you. You began walking down the hall as he tried to sort through his confusion.

Yoongi's eyebrows were drawn together as he ruffled his hair.

"You're starting to feel it?" you laughed. He looked at you and smiled, walking into the elevator. 

"My entire body just started heating up" he laughed with you. You nodded your head, completely understanding.

"You should never accept one of those after he's already been drinking. There's no telling how much alcohol he put in it" you grinned. Yoongi closed his eyes and tilted his head up.

"Church is going to be awful" he groaned before laughing.

"Well, he only gave you half of a cup so, maybe it won't be so bad?" you offered optimistically. The elevator pinged and the two of you stepped off. The walk to the exit was quick and you sighed in relief at the cool breeze gliding over your skin.

Yoongi must've felt it too because something that sounded suspiciously like a moan seeped from his lips.

"Seriously, my body feels like it is on fire," he said. You laughed and pulled his arm in the direction of your place. 

"This way" you smiled. Yoongi looked at your profile from head to toe and lightly shook his head. He had a snarky comment but now wasn't the time to go there. 

"You couldn't have changed out of that dress" his lips asked anyway and without his permission. Liquid courage.

You looked down at your dress, continuing the path to your place. You remembered his comments from the banquet and smiled.

"This is a normal dress" you laughed.

"I can almost see through it and it is incredibly short" he said, openly staring at your thigh.

"It goes mid-thigh and it's not my fault that you can't help fantasizing about me" you teased. Yoongi rolled his eyes and shook his head with a smile.

"It's hard not to fantasize when I'm being seduced" he argued. Your mouth dropped open and he laughed at your animated expression.

"Mid-thigh means that when you bend over, it just barely covers your...important parts" he said, controlling his language.

"Ohhh, I see what this is about" you said, ears burning. Yoongi waited for your explanation with confusion carved into his face.

"You can't stop thinking about bending me over, right?"

Yoongi licked his lips and looked forward, refusing to answer. The hint of a smile gave him away and you laughed.

"See? I told you in your office that we needed rules or this would be hard for you" you gloated. Yoongi scoffed and watched you stick your tongue out to tease him. There was a small moment of silence as your mind played through the possibilities of him bending you over. The thought itself was making your panties wet.

"So, what's the plan after that?" 

"What do you mean?" he asked quizzically.

"After I'm bent over? What’s next? Are you going to spank me?" you asked. Yoongi made an impressed face. You seemed to be getting more comfortable with him as the hours went by. Or, well, you could just be hopped on liquid courage like he was. 

The two of you finally reached your building and he sighed, knowing the conversation would be coming to a close soon. He pushed the button for the elevator and the doors opened immediately. 

"So?" you asked, still waiting for an answer. Yoongi watched as the elevator doors closed and smiled before looking over at your expectant face.

"I think I would have to taste you before I did anything else" he said, watching your reaction. You looked away from him for a second and swallowed, not sure what to say next. Surely there was a way to tease him but just the thought of his tongue on you made you hot. 

He chuckled lightly at your silence and tried to subtly adjust himself. The elevator pinged again and the two of you stepped off to head toward your place. 

"-but I know you wouldn't let me get that far" he said, eyes on you. His growing bulge throbbed in his pants.

You reached your door and turned around to look at him.

"You sure about that?" you asked, pressing your back against the door. Yoongi tilted his head down and kissed your lips, putting one hand on your hip and another on your neck. His thumb lightly brushed your earlobe as his tongue pushed your lips apart. With every new part of him that interacted with your body, you felt a new sensation. His fingers dug into your hips while his torso softly pressed into you. His kisses were urgent but his pacing was somehow still manageable. 

Yoongi hiked one of your legs over his hip, sliding his hand over your thigh and pushing the lacy material of your dress upward. The bulge in his jeans met with your wet panties and you moaned, breaking his kiss. Yoongi relocated his mouth to your neck, biting down with just enough force to make your eyes cross. 

Your hips angled just a bit, allowing even more pressure to build between his bulge and your clothed slit. You moaned in time with his grunt and he licked your neck, sucking the skin there. 

Yoongi could feel himself become more and more frustrated as he tried to thrust his hips. Standing in your doorway just wasn't going to cut it.

"Door" he moaned against you. He allowed you to turn around, releasing your leg, and heard the sound of you fumbling with your keys. He used that time to fiddle with the zipper on your dress. Just as he got the zipper down, you'd gotten the door open and began pulling him inside. Yoongi kicked the door shut behind him and used his feet to start removing his shoes, all the while watching your dress hit the ground. His eyes stopped on your bra and smirked.

"Lacy bra too, huh?" his voice came out gravelly. You nodded and walked around him, his eyes following you across the room. With one hand, you reached behind and slowly undid the clasps on your bra. With the other, you dug in the second drawer of your dresser to pull out a condom. You tossed it to him and he fumbled to catch it, watching your bra hit the ground next.

Walking toward your bed, you kicked your shoes off and hooked your fingers into the waistband of your panties but kept them on. Lying on the bed, you gazed up at Yoongi who'd pulled off his hoodie and tossed it in the center of the room. His fingers worked on unbuttoning his jeans while he came closer to you. He bent over at the waist, licking his tongue to one nipple then the other. 

At this point, you were so turned on that you could feel your inner walls clenching. Nearly breathless, you looked into Yoongi's eyes as he licked and kissed his way down your stomach. You could hear yourself panting despite the fact that he had yet to fully touch you. 

Yoongi's tongue touched the fabric of your panties and he internally groaned as you bit your bottom lip in anticipation. To your surprise, instead of taking your panties off, Yoongi flattened his tongue over your slit. He roughly spread your legs using both of his hands and sucked your clit through your panties. He broke eye contact and you finally felt free to close your eyes. The feeling of his suction mixed with the fabric of the panties was mind numbing and you moaned deeply.

Yoongi rubbed his thumb across your clothed nub and sucked his mouth to your inner thighs, biting and kissing the flesh there. He felt your hips bucking against him and he used his free hand to restrain you. After a few seconds of being unable to ride his face as you pleased, you got the message to stay still. His thumb moved just a bit more forcefully against your clit and you groaned, letting your legs fall open even wider. 

Yoongi reached into his unfastened jeans and squeezed his cock, a moan escaping him. This was all getting to be too much. He was so hard that it was beginning to hurt. 

He moved your panties to the side and licked his bare tongue across your naked slit. Your eyes squeezed shut and you cried out as he quickly began flicking his stiffened tongue over your clit. Your arm reached above your head, desperately trying to grab anything but could only find your pillow. Your fingers clawed into the pillow as your back arched and you panted. Yoongi stopped moving his tongue and immediately sucked your clit into his mouth. 

The tension fell just a bit and your fingers loosened their grip. Why did he stop? You'd been so close. The thought to open your eyes crossed your mind but before you could do so, Yoongi slid two fingers into your pussy. He slowly began sawing them in and out of you, his lips still tightly hugged around your clit. Once again, you could feel your walls clenching and releasing. 

Yoongi noticed it too and smiled to himself, knowing that he'd be experiencing it in a minute. He pulled his mouth and fingers away from you and listened to you protest. Pushing his pants to the ground, Yoongi grabbed the condom and ripped the packaging open with his teeth.

Impatient, you pulled your panties off and tossed them away. You squeezed one of your breasts and slid your other middle finger to your clit. A sigh left your body as you put pressure back where you needed it. Yoongi's eyes were stuck to your fingers, watching as you'd circle your clit a few times before plunging your fingers inside. He groaned, slipping the condom on. Waiting for your fingers to return to your clit, Yoongi lined himself to your opening and slowly pushed in. 

"Oh God~" he breathed, his eyes closing. Your finger stuttered over your clit as you felt him stretch you open. 

Once he was fully inside, Yoongi sat still for a second, letting your walls grip and massage him. After a few seconds, he pulled out about halfway and flexed his hips to dive back in. You licked your parted lips, your fingers completely stalled as he slowly rocked into you. With every thrust, a moan squeezed out of your lips.

You watched Yoongi grab one of your legs and push it upward through lidded eyes. Once he had more clearance, his thrusts became harder, making the bed rock. He grunted and your eyes clamped shut as his rough thrusts began to pick up speed. Your breasts bounced in time with the knocking of your headboard and his grunts.

Once again, your fingers rubbed at your clit and your head rolled to the side. You clenched your teeth, feeling yourself reach the edge. Your lower half started trembling and before you could scream, Yoongi pressed his lips to yours. Your walls squeezed the life out of him as you came explosively, his orgasm pushing through immediately after. Your nipples poked into his torso as he rested against you, your breathing patterns seeming to be in sync.

MASTERLISTS

[dumbkombuchakid]

I’m finding more and more that mindfulness and awareness play a massive role in everything. All the growth I’ve undergone has been rooted in cultivating those skills in myself. 

Getting curious instead of judgmental, asking questions and being objective, letting go of outcome and expectations. All of these things seem tiny and maybe insignificant on paper; but in practice have made all the difference for me.

This past Thursday, I met with my therapist (as I usually do on Thursdays) and she told me she was proud of me. I am so grateful for that feedback, for her helping to contribute to my awareness of myself. Awareness extends beyond the present moment, it encompasses patterns and trends and habits and intentions and consequences. It informs decisions and aids processing and understanding. Awareness is the key to it all.

She commended me for staying in wise-mind while telling her about a situation that was upsetting me. She noted that though I had the opportunity to allow my emotions to take control, to pull me into a spiral, I made a choice to remain in control. That’s not what I would’ve done a year ago. That might not even be what I would’ve done a few months ago. Her providing that feedback about my new patterns and trends, specifically my ability to abstain from following old, maladaptive patterns and trends, brought that new data into my awareness. It’s very difficult to be cognizant of your own patterns. It requires parallel processing of data about several versions of yourself in different but comparable situations across a timeline. That’s not a skill that comes naturally; that depth of data about each version of ourselves just isn’t stored. 

I am proud of myself. I’m proud of my ability to say that I’m proud of myself; proud of my capacity to believe that I’m proud of myself. For the larger majority of my life (I’m talkin 1st 19 years) I refused to allow pride to penetrate my consciousness. I grew up fearing that I’d slip into narcissism and lose who I was, instead developing into some spawn of my father; a figure I’d associated with all things self-centered and antisocial. Any shred of pride or self-esteem was too great a risk; I’d rather be humble and miserable but secure in my pro-social self-appraisal. I vividly remember the day I felt true self worth for the first time. It was in june, a month before I’d turn 20. That day came a few years after another significant (in hindsight) day when I began working with my current therapist. I fear I may accidentally catalog the past several years here for the sake of clarity and continuity, but the main takeaway point is that I’ve undergone immense growth, all a result of my own innervism.

Innervism is a term I’m borrowing from Elizabeth Lesser, the author of the book Cassandra Speaks. It refers to inward awareness and intentional growth. Tuning in to tune up. If not for facing the things about myself that I didn’t want to get true, I’d never have reached a point where I’m able to act with intention and display a self of whom I’m proud.

I’m far from perfect, and I’ve made a personal vow to never stop growing, learning, listening, and adapting. I will never reach my final form; there is always room for growth.

My point in writing right now is to address some of the cognitive behaviors I’ve noticed myself exhibit when in relationships. In the beginning, when things are wonderful and new and affection has a strong presence, I latch on. I start to fantasize about the future and how my life could play out with this other individual by my side, treating me the way they do at the beginning. 

This tendency to idealize based on that first impression, that best-behavior scenario, extends into the period when things begin to slip. When the negligence begins, when manipulative tactics begin being employed. When I am expected both to change myself and also to unilaterally accept the other’s lack of change. I am projected to grow into a mould that aligns with their current state, rather than the two of us developing into a new shape, together.

Internally, this is accompanied by a fear of communicating my feelings. A hesitation to go against the grain and a tendency to shrink and abide by these new terms of engagement. I get quiet and small and they become all powerful. I am aware of the red flags and harm and damage and yet I remain docile and strive for perfection in their eyes.

This is how I’ve always done it, it’s how I’ve been conditioned to behave in relationships. I’ve been conditioned to accept that A) there will be a power imbalance and B) it will not favor me.

I no longer accept that. Today I did something that past me would not have done. 

A few important things to note about the situation that allowed me to make this development are that:

1. my “picker” is getting pickier. I’ve always fallen into relationships with narcissists in the past, not because I chose them, but because they chose me and I only knew how to go along. This time, in my current relationship, I made a choice as much as they did. The quality of their character actually had a chance to play a role in deciding whether or not the relationship was worth pursuing.

2. I trust them. I trust that they care about me and want this to work. I trust that they want me to be happy and healthy and that they’re willing to grow.

We didn’t talk much today because he had a big day of doing things that I won’t get into, but then tonight when we did finally get to talk, we spent a long time discussing his day in depth and then never shifted to talking about me. Instead, he started multitasking and doing other things and talking and singing to himself. I told him if he wanted to do those things that was fine, but if we were going to be on the phone that I wanted to him to talk to me, to pay me attention. This didn’t actually turn a result, which hurt me.

Eventually, he got tired and said he was going to turn in, and wished me a goodnight. I said goodnight too, without my typical enthusiasm or affection, and he noticed that those were missing. Instead of asking why though, he simply told me to say it like I meant it, since he didn’t believe me. He has a tendency to make jokes when I’d really rather he be serious, and I’ve stopped laughing along and instead stay true to the tone I want to be received. I don’t want to diminish the weight and value my thoughts and feelings deserve. I’ve decided to not accept less than I deserve.

We hung up and I journaled a bit and felt myself getting worked up, and this is where I did a few things I’m proud of.

I called him back. He didn’t answer, so I recorded a snapchat video and told him how certain aspects of our conversation made me feel, and how I had realized that if I didn’t tell him then he’d have no way to know that those things had hurt and upset me.

This was honestly terrifying, and sending it (and not getting an immediate response) made me feel a whole other type of awful. 

I decided to set a timer for 15 minutes and meditate. During my meditation, I focused on a few things. I repeatedly reminded myself that I must let go of outcome; remind myself that I spoke only about my feelings and my feelings deserve to be heard. Silencing all the spiraling thoughts about the conversations that could follow was hard, and I noticed the colors in my awareness shift as more potential outcomes forced their way in. I repeated the mantra “I deserve love” to myself and focused hard on not allowing expectations or theories about what could or may happen in. Those things aren’t real, they’re imagined. I forced myself to choose to refrain from processing events until an event actually occurred.

15 minutes passed and I felt a little lighter. Part of me still really just wanted to cry, but then eventually I got a notification. He said he was sorry, that it was more of a mental hiccup than a true representation of how he feels.

I thanked him - intentionally rerouting from a typical path of saying “it’s okay” in response to an apology. I then wished him sweet dreams and told him we’d talk tomorrow, and I meant it.

It was uncomfortable, I’ll admit. It’s never fun to confront something that hurts you, especially when it’s something or someone that you don’t want to lose. During my meditation I had to remind myself that if someone doesn’t value my feelings or have respect for me, then they aren’t the person I should be with. That’s terrifying - holding people to a higher standard. Choosing to not accept less than what I deserve is something almost completely foreign to me and is fucking scary, but it’s also sort of exhilarating. The idea that mutual respect is now a requirement, that my partner needs to give a shit about me and express that through their behavior is something I deserve. I never used to think about myself as deserving anything - at least not anything good. But now? I put so much effort into who I am and how I treat others. I’m a good, kind, caring person. I know that I am because I do it on purpose. I think that qualifies me as deserving someone who treats me the same. 

It’s 5am now. My sleep schedule is off kilter in a big way. I’m going to finally stop and allow this day to end. I’ve already made a to-do list for tomorrow and I hope the day brings joy. I appreciate you reading what I have to write; it helps me to do this and I hope it helps you to read.

Goodnight and sweet dreams, remember that you deserve love.

[nightklok]

TELL ME ABOUT HOW YOU WRITE PICKLES AND CHARLES PLEASE ;0; what are you inspirations for their dynamic? you write them so in love and it makes me immensely happy

Thank you firstly, means a lot because writing them happy brings me so much joy-even if I probably wrote more angst than fluff of them at a point-jkfl

I have answered Pickles here so I’ll write about Charles and why I write them together with the way I do! :D

Charles

I feel like Charles has a lot more emotions/feelings than the show tries to give him credit for (I like to think that by season 4, he learned to be a little be more emotional around the boys enough as he learned that it’s okay to be a bit emotional if he needs to around them BUT then Doomstar completely wrecked him) 

I really adore trying to write characters that are normally stoic in the show into more gentler/emotional people. I feel like the DVD extra of him taking calls and season 4/Doomstar shows he can be emotional! He has friends outside of Dethklok, his own hobbies/interests, definitely feels something and I don’t think my idea of him is really all that far fetched. He’s not just some asshole in a suit and while he has done questionable things, 9/10 it’s for the sake of Dethklok and not himself (Whoops forgot about Melmord here but even then I think Charles isn’t being selfish because he really does know he’s the only one that keep them in control-Melmord is just a snake oil salesman in a non-existent clown costume or something-)

I do keep in mind that he is a serious person and most likely is even when around people he completely trusts. He’s a person who can be a bit hard to read but he’s also not that hard when you actually get to know him and really know where to look when talking to him. Also I do headcanon that he is autistic but that’s for another story i think

He’s a character that even though I know is emotional inside, he does have to keep a stoic/non-expression look to him on the surface. He has the most important job in his life and he’s well aware of it. Being emotional/expressing anything but seriousness could possibly endanger him and Dethklok. It’s probably not by much because I do think even when he is emotional and can express himself, it’s still controlled to a degree. He can’t just let himself completely break in front of someone, he wouldn’t allow that at all.  I’d imagine he’d have to pretend that he only sees them as coworkers and nothing else or that the band would have to do the same to him or there would be kidnapping attempts. there probably is anyway on a yearly basis but thanks to him, it’s near impossible to do that as they do have highly trained klokateers.

But I still believe even regardless of that that it must get exhausting at times. A warm bed and wanting to sleep in is something that everyone desires to do at least once but they have to get up early and go to work or do whatever they need to do. Charles is human and he’s a human has needs like everyone else. I feel that he does probably have the days where just sleeping in sounds like a wonderful thing to do or that there are stressful days where he’d just need a long bath or something. Because of this, I don’t really seem him as aggressive or overly dominant when off work and in a relationship. Having to take care of a band and basically the world’s economy is exhausting. If he just wants to be taken care of, let him!!

Basically what I’m saying is let the guy take a nap

I do like to try and base off characters/writing off real people/situations so I think I gotta say Brian Epstein who managed the Beatles really helped in figuring out how Charles is like as a manager to Dethklok-I really began researching him around the time I got into the show because of class and it was interesting reading about him and I honestly think he’s one of the best band managers I heard of (next to Peter Grant of course-). I do also relate to Charles in some level though the patience he has I think is really almost inhumane because wow-

I kinda did write Chickles first before this so i might be repeating? So I’ll just leave this as it is but either way, I just like writing him as a little bit more emotional/down to earth. I get that it might be OOC a bit but I feel like the aggressive/dominant part is a little bit way too OOC-

Chickles

I honestly wonder why I write them so in love too if i have to be honest dsflkj

To answer what the inspirations; i feel like a huge factor into why I write them the way do (and probably any other ship) is because while i have had the feeling of falling in love before, i never really had the experience of being in a romantic relationship or went anywhere even close to that with someone. I feel like this is kinda obvious but its about the yearning I kinda do fantasize what it must be like but I do also take what I have learned/read/seen from either relationships I know of personally or seen in media and apply to them. I take both toxic and good relationships to see what I do/don’t want to write when it comes to relationships and what they would/wouldn’t do. I don’t use toxic relationships to completely shape a relationship but rather analyze it, see why it’s toxic in the first place, and see what I can do to either when I write relationships/pairings in general. Obviously I use Addams family’s Morticia and Gomez as a base for writing good relationships in general because who wouldn’t???

I also think writing terribly written Chickles fanfics and even ones with Charles probably help to in writing Charles. Are they near uncomfortable and make me wanna take a shower after reading them? Yes-but reading them not for entertainment/knowing what you’re getting into and then thinking about why you didn’t like it honestly helps in keeping a character in check. Not something I recommend for works that can potentially trigger you but for for those fics that just don’t nail their character right, can be useful in knowing how you don’t want to portray a character/relationship. It can be VERY easy to make Chickles a toxic pairing if you don’t know how to handle them right. Having a character like Charles be with someone like Pickles can be easy to butcher if someone doesn’t really study their characters. Charles doesn’t have to be completely dominant nor is he a Christian Grey-like character that doesn’t seem to know how to properly communicate with his partners. And Pickles is definitely not a weak, submissive person and is stronger/braver than anyone gives him credit for when writing those relationships. I like to think that while one may be a little more dominant/in control of the relationship, they are complete equals. If one needs to be taken care of, the other will step in and help them out.

Writing them that they had knew each other in the Snakes N’ Barrels era/80s has always been basically canon to me too! So I guess it just makes it also a lot easier to write them as in love when I set the stories in dethklok/present day; whatever problems that they had in the beginning that they fear the other might judge/yell/misunderstand for would be long since resolved/handled by the time the show aired. Whether they actually date or not by then kinda depends on the story but either way, they would have a strong relationship. They would have learned about each other, their problems and who they are inside and out. They fall in love with the little things they do and learn to handle any pet peeves with them but accept them as who they are. They have gone through so much together behind the scenes and their relationship to each other probably is one of the few that hasn’t changed when Dethklok got incredibly famous.

Season 3 and onward might be a different story. Though it’s not because of personal grievances but more of just the topic of keeping secrets & not telling the truth when they would’ve most likely been so honest with each other before. And honestly that’s what makes it REALLY devastating to write about; Pickles would know jackshit for at least a few years (Assuming that Season 3 & Season 4 took place within 3 years at best.)  and I don’t think watching someone you really love/care about die in front of you, then come back less than a year later and refuse to talk about why they’re here and give vague/cryptic answers is gonna put things back to normal.  (Maybe one day I’ll finish that fic I poured near 10,000 words in-).

And honestly it’s probably where I would like to explore on their relationship the most but it’s just so damn complex and detailed that I definitely need a lot of time to work on. They’d both want things to go back to normal but by Charles coming back, it signaled that things weren’t as what they used to be and that they most likely won’t be. What used to be a relationship based on comfort, familiarity, and a predicted unpredictability, has become something much more than neither of them have either prepared for. They’ll have to work hard to move past it and accept that like their relationship, things won’t be like they used to be. But with how much time they have spent together and that they still love each other regardless, they’ll be able to go through with this and get their happy ending!! (And I guess this is why I evolved from ‘definitely not the marrying type’ to ‘yeah they definitely get hitched after galaktikon’ because charles and pickles have probably signed a lot of important documents all their lives, so signing a marriage certificate that binds them to each other would be the most sentimental/important document he’s ever signed.)

All in all,they have such good potential writing because it’s just easy to write them for me. From their first meetings to first relationship to getting to be signed to Dethklok, I feel like they have something I probably won’t be able to replicate in other ships. They are an absolute joy to write and getting to explore.

God i could go on forever about them but im gonna stop dlfskj

[nothingeverlost]

Fic: Thunderstorms and Pancakes (Baby Steps Verse)

We had a pretty big storm last week that gave me this plot bunny.  Takes place about a week after Bae comes home to visit.

II

“I should be going.”  He’d been to dinner every night since Bae had come home, at Belle’s insistence.  Since it was Saturday he’d been at the house since lunch, sharing a picnic in the back yard with his son and Emma, Belle and Ruby.  Trevelyn worried that it was too much, but when he’d tried to beg off dinner the night before Belle had reminded him that Emma was only around for another day, and Bae would have to go to New York in a week.  

“It’s still raining pretty hard, are you sure that’s a good idea?”  Belle never mentioned his cane or the limp that was evident, and he never offered any information.  He could see her glance at his leg, though, before frowning at the window.  It had been raining for more than an hour, the summer shower a surprise.

“I’m sure it will let up soon.”  At that moment the windows lit up and a roll of thunder made the house shake.

“I don’t think so, dad.  Remember what happened when I was ten and old man Hubbard drove in a storm like this?  He was lucky to get out of the car before it ended up in the river.”

“Fortunately I don’t pass any rivers on the way home.”  After another flash of lightning the lights flickered.  The rain, rather than receding, seemed to pound harder against the glass.

“I think you should stay in the guest room tonight, Trev.  We’ll all sleep better knowing that you’re not out in this.”  Belle collected the dessert dishes.  Ruby was already sleeping, the baby monitor on the table where Belle could watch her.  Bae and Emma nodded in agreement.

“I don’t want to be an imposition.”  Bae mentioned Hubbard, but Trev remembered another night drive fifteen years ago that had ended in weeks of hospitalization, months of therapy and surgeries, and a cane he still hated with a passion.  He hated how much his knee ached in the rain too.  Staying inside had more than one advantage, but he didn’t want to make Belle do any more work.  It would be strange to sleep in his house again as well.

“You couldn’t be more of an imposition than Bae, and she puts up with him.”  Emma leaned over, hitting Bae’s shoulder with her own.  Their chairs were only inches apart; they liked to touch.  Bae rolled his eyes but leaned into the touch as well.

“I insist.”  Belle briefly squeezed Trev’s shoulder as she returned to the table.  “I think you might still have some things in the back of the closet.  If not Bae probably has something you can borrow to sleep in.”

He did end up needing to borrow a pair of sweatpants, though Belle found him a long forgotten t-shirt that had clearly been a present from Bae.  It declared him to be the ‘world’s okayest dad.’  Trev shook his head when he saw it, but Belle had been amused.  

“Are you certain you wouldn’t prefer the master bedroom?  The bed is bigger.”  Belle made the same offer she’d made already.  

“The guess room is fine.”  A full sized bed was plenty for him.  He tried not to think about any reasons why he might need a larger bed.  None of his thoughts involved being alone, so they were best not considered at all.  Especially when the only person he’d fantasized about recently was standing in front of him.  The fact that the master room had been a space he’d shared with Milah for so long didn’t even occur to him.  “Besides Ruby would be confused if she came looking for you.”

“Ruby would be delighted if she found her ‘Good’ when she came looking for me.  She’s going to be so excited tomorrow when she realizes you’re here for breakfast.”

Gold nodded, holding the t-shirt to his chest.  He couldn’t shake the image of lying in bed with Belle, an arm draped casually over her waist.  Not doing anything, just lying with her and sharing space when Ruby came in for breakfast.  It was a daydream that left him rattled; he never had moments like that in Bae’s childhood.  It wasn’t his brain replicating a memory, but a completely separate dream.  “I should go to bed.”

“Sweet dreams, Trev.  You know where almost everything is, but if you have any questions you know where to find me.”

Unfortunately he knew all too well where to find her, not that he would breach the doorway that had been his own for so many years.  “Thank you.”

“Hey dad, these should work.  They have a drawstring, which I thought might help since you’re skinny.”  Bae came out of his bedroom with the promised sweatpants.  Behind him Emma leaned in the doorway of the bedroom that had been Bae’s since he was three weeks old and Milah had declared she couldn’t sleep with a baby in the master bedroom.  While he knew that Bae and Emma were sharing a room it was still a little startling to see it with his own eyes.  It didn’t bother him, but it was another reminder that his son was grown up.  He was so proud of his boy, but some part of him would always miss the child he had been.

“Your dad has a little restraint around desserts, unlike some people I know,” Emma teased.

“Hey, I inherited my love of cake from him.  He had a piece too.  But I bet he’s still in the habit of skipping meals.  Tea does not count as breakfast.”  Behind Gold he heard a snort, and turned to find Belle covering her mouth.  She shrugged, but he could tell she was amused to find that she wasn’t the only one to scold him for having tea alone in the morning.

“Yeah, like no one saw you sneak that second piece in the kitchen.”  Emma rolled her eyes before vanishing into the bedroom.  Gold was pretty certain he heard Bae mutter something about working off the calories.  He didn’t want to ask for clarification.  Fortunately the guest bedroom didn’t share a room with his son’s bedroom.

“I’ll just take this and-” he gestured at the door to the room that was just past Belle’s own.

“Sleep well, Trev.”  Belle’s smile seemed to ensure he’d have either sweet dreams or troubled sleep.

“Goodnight Belle.”  He was used to speaking to her over the phone and wishing her a good night, or speaking to her from the end of the hall at the bed and breakfast.  Somehow the hallway of his home - her home now - seemed more intimate.

“Goodnight!” A duel shout came from behind the closed door of Bae’s room as he headed for the guest room door.

II

He couldn’t sleep. Perhaps it was being back in the house that held so many memories, or perhaps it was knowing that only a wall separated him from the bedroom where Belle was sleeping.  Either way he spent an hour staring wide eyed at the ceiling before giving up and getting out of bed.  If he remembered correctly there was still a bottle of whiskey in the library.  Unless Belle had a taste for it, which he doubted, it should still be there.  A wee dram might help him fall asleep.  Carefully he walked down the hall, avoiding the squeaky floorboard near Bae’s room.  Since he didn’t carry his cane he had to use the handrail on the stairs.  To his surprise there was a light on in the library.

“Belle?”  She sat at the desk, the only light coming from the lamp in the upper corner of the desk and the glow of the laptop monitor.  The clock on the wall told him it was a little after midnight.

“End of the month reports have to be finished tomorrow.  I’m almost done.”  She leaned back in the chair, taking off a pair of glasses he rarely saw her wearing.  “Employees need paychecks and the quarterly taxes are due.”

“You don’t have a payroll person for that?”

“Granny always did it herself.  I remember sitting next to her at the kitchen table, working on homework while she was working on it.  There were always cookies.  I guess it makes me feel closer to her.”  Belle stretched, leaning back farther in the chail.  The bottom of her pajama top rose just enough to see a narrow strip of skin.  “I should probably look into a service, but I only think of it at midnight when I’m struggling to get it done.”

“I can ask my bookkeeper if she can take on someone new.  I believe she does payroll.”  Belle had enough to do, managing two businesses and raising a two year old.  She didn’t need to stay up late with paperwork.  He would make sure Ariel could take her, even if he had to pay to make it happen.

“You don’t need to-” Belle stopped mid sentence, shaking her head.  “No, that’s silly.  I know I need help and as usual you have just the answer I need.  Thank you, Trev.  I would appreciate the recommendation.”

“I’ll make a call tomorrow.”

“Thank you.  Now what can I do for you?  You didn’t come down here to talk about payroll and taxes.”

“I was planning on having a drink, actually.”  The scotch was exactly there he left it.  A few years additional aging would only improve the flavor.

“May I join you?”

“Really?”  He’d seen her drink wine, and could imagine her with a daiquiri in hand.

“Sure.  I’m almost done with my work and it would help me unwind.  I even have my own glass.”  Grinning she picked up a plastic tumbler with a cartoon on it, one of Ruby’s.  “If you don’t mind sharing, of course.”

“I don’t mind.”  She sat at his desk in his library, though he’d cleared enough bookshelves off to allow her some space for her collection.  The bed she slept in was his.  There was a great deal they shared already, a drink hardly seemed like anything in comparison.  Yet as he placed the glass he’d brought from the kitchen next to the plastic cup and added the liquor to each it felt strangely intimate.  Perhaps it was the late hour.

“Should we toast something?”  Belle took hold of her glass, but a moment later almost dropped it when a lightning strike lit up the room.

“Belle?”

“I don’t like lightning very much.”  She took a sip of her drink, making a face that told him she didn’t appreciate the taste.  It didn’t stop her from taking a second sip.

“My father told a story when I was a lad about a selkie looking for his lost love in a thunderstorm.  She was human and they had fallen in love when he had rescued her from a shipwreck, but her people had come for her and taken her back to their land.  Whenever lightning fills the sky you know he’s still looking for her.”  His father hadn’t been worth much, but he had been able to spin a story.  As a child it had entertained him.  As he’d gotten older ‘story’ had just been another word for a lie.

“My mother told me that angels were bowling.  It didn’t scare me when I was a kid.” He couldn’t see into the plastic cup but guessed it was mostly gone after she took another sip.  When he held up the bottle she nodded and he refilled her glass.  She started into the depths of the glass as if it was something more than plastic with unicorns on it.  Knowing what it was like to get lost in thoughts he didn’t say anything.  It was a few minutes before she spoke.  “There was a thunderstorm the night my mother died.  She would always come into my room when there was a storm to check on me and ask me who was winning the bowling game.  I waited but…”

“I’m sorry, Belle.”  Her voice wavered and she didn’t seem able to continue.  He remembered her mentioning moving to America after her mother’s death.  She’d been too young to lose a mother, as well as a father not long after.  

“Ruby doesn’t mind a storm, and I don’t want her to think they’re scary.  I suppose I should have a story for her.”  Belle looked over her shoulder, as if waiting to catch the next clap of thunder.

“You could tell her about the angels bowling.”  He could almost picture her as a girl of Ruby’s age, asking for a story.  She probably wasn’t quite as demanding as Ruby could be, but just as hard to deny.

“I think I like your story better.  Maybe you could tell me the whole thing sometime?”  Perhaps it was the fact that the thunder hadn’t rumbled again, or the fact that she was almost done with her second pour of whiskey, but she seemed more relaxed.  

“If you like.”  For a moment he could almost hear an echo of his father’s voice.  And his own, as he tucked in a little boy that was now a grown man.

“Not tonight, though.  I think I need to go to sleep.”  She drained the last of her glass and closed up her laptop.  “You know how early Ruby likes to get up.”

“I’ll walk with you.”  She wasn’t wearing those ridiculous high heels she wore often when she was out, but he still worried about her balance, especially since she’d fallen only a few days earlier.  Not that his balance was much better, and he hadn’t even finished his drink.

“I’m glad you stayed tonight, Trev.  I would have worried about you driving in this.”  They made it up the stairs, though there were one or two false starts.  His leg was unsteady without his cane and Belle’s focus was less than perfect.

“I wouldn’t want to make you worry.”  He understood her worry even better now then he had a few hours ago.  “Sleep well, Belle.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Bae said something about pancakes.”  Belle smiled sleepy at him as she stood in the doorway of the bedroom.  The walls that had been white when it was his room were a pale blue now.  It was a color that suited her.

“Unless he learned something in Italy I assume that means he’s volunteered me for breakfast duty.”  Saturday morning breakfasts had been a tradition of theirs for most of Bae’s childhood.  Milah had liked to sleep in, so it had usually been the two of them.  It would be nice to cook for his boy again.  And to cook breakfast for Belle for the first time.

“We’ll make him wash the dishes,” Belle said with a grin and a wink before she closed the door behind her.  Gold walked on to his room, closing the door behind him.  He was no less awake then he had been, but his mind felt more focused.  He took out the notepad he always carried with him and a pen, and started to write the story of a selkie in love.  It wasn’t the type of story he usually wrote, but it was a familiar tale and flowed quickly.  Perhaps he’d talk to Bae about doing up a few illustrations.  It would make a nice gift for Belle. And Ruby, of course.

II

The sound of howling woke him.  Looking at his clock he realized that it was a little before eight.  It took him a moment later to realize that the noise was a little girl declaring that she was awake.  Since he didn’t hear any other noises he hurried from his bed to the room across the hall.  Perhaps he would be able to let Belle sleep a little longer, she could do with a lie in.

“I’m looking for a little girl to help me make some pancakes, but all I hear is a wolf.”  He stood in the doorway to Ruby’s room, where she stood up on her bed.  It was a tiny thing no full sized person could possibly lay down on.  Gold knew that the mattress had been part of Ruby’s bed before the move.

“Good, my good, my good.”  Ruby’s cries of delight were slightly quieter than her howls, but not by much.  Gold looked across the hall at Belle’s still closed door.

“You’ll have to be quiet if you want to make pancakes,” he cautioned.

“Ruby be quiet.  Shhh shhh shh.”  She held one chubby finger up to her mouth to demonstrate.  Gold couldn’t help but smile.  

“That’s what I like to see in a sous chef.”  He held out a hand and she was quick to respond, jumping off her bed with a level of disregard of safety that would worry him if her bed was more than a foot from the floor.  In moments her small hand was in his.  Her other hand touched his sweatpants.

“Good go night night?” she asked.

“Yes, I slept here.”  He was glad she didn’t ask any more questions as they walked down the hall past Belle and Bae’s rooms.  When they got downstairs she was quickly distracted by cracking eggs and mixing with spoons, and didn’t ask any questions about why he’d spent the night.

“So Bae wasn’t lying about the pancakes.”  Emma was the first person to come downstairs, heading straight for the coffee pot.  It seemed that she liked her morning caffeine as much as Belle and his son.  Ruby hadn’t been patient enough for him to make his usual tea.

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this.  Hopefully they’re edible,” he said with a shrug.  He hadn’t spent more than a few minutes alone with Emma.  She seemed nice enough, and certainly being around her made Bae happy, but it always took him time to get used to people.  To call his social circle limited would be generous.

“I remember the first time my dad tried making pancakes for me.  They were black on one side and raw in the middle but I ate them.”  Emma took a mug from the cabinet and poured herself a cup of coffee, adding some of the flavored creamer Belle always had in the fridge.

“Was your mom usually the one that made the pancakes?” He asked, only half paying attention.  Ruby was sitting on the edge of the counter and half of his focus was on making sure she didn’t decide at any moment to try jumping.

“Nah, she’s a teacher so mornings were not a leisure time for her.  She’d already left for work that day, I think.  I’d only been with them for a couple of weeks and David was kind of going overboard on trying to fit in as many ‘normal’ kid things as he could.  He still can’t make a decent pancake but he was a great softball coach.”  Emma settled at one of the stools on the side of the counter, both hands wrapped around her mug.

“You’re adopted.”  For a moment all of his focus was on her, and he could see a look in her eyes that he recognized from his own years in foster care.  He hadn’t seen it before.  

“My mom likes to say that we were always a family, it just took us time to find each other.  She’s big on fairy tales.  Sometimes I think she forgets that I lived anywhere before them.”  Emma took a sip of her coffee.  “I hope you don’t mind, but Bae mentioned that you were in the system too.”

“Yeah.”  He didn’t remember his mother.  Malcolm had been interested in him as long as he was young and cute and a good distraction while he worked his cons, but once he’d gotten too older he’d become less useful and asked too many questions.  He’d spent most of his time in group homes until Penny and Flo had taken him in just before his sixteenth birthday.  They had taken their role as foster parents very seriously; the home he now rented to Belle had been theirs, left to him in their will.

“Belle reminds me of my mom a little.  Ruby’s a lucky kid.”

“She is.”  He remembered how nervous Belle had been in the beginning.  She had worried about Ruby’s happiness and what was best for the baby, but had never said a word about her own plans changing so completely.  

“Ruby lucky,” the little girl agreed, waving around a spoon and flinging pancake batter everywhere.  “Ruby want pancake.”

“Soon,”  Gold promised, glad of the distraction.  “We have to cook them first.”

“Ruby want m’Belle.”

“Belle is sleeping.”  He knew how rare it was for Belle to be able to sleep in.

“Bae’s sleeping too, but he doesn’t need to be.  How about we go get him up, Rubes?  Want to help me?”  Emma downed the rest of her coffee and reached for the girl who eagerly jumped at her.  Emma settled her on her hip.  “Figured this breakfast thing might go smoother without the pancake batter flying everywhere and Bae will sleep ‘til noon if we leave him alone.”

“Thank you.”  He would be less worried about the griddle without Ruby being so close, and he might even be able to make himself that cup of tea.  For a moment when she turned to walk away Gold’s heart skipped a beat.  Someday, whether it was with Emma or someone else, Bae would have a child of his own.  A family that, he hoped, would visit him.  He hadn’t thought much of grandchildren before.  For so long his family had simply been himself and Bae.  It seemed to be growing.

“Do I smell pancakes?”  He expected Bae and Emma to come into the kitchen, but a few minutes later it was Belle that appeared, wrapped in a robe but wearing the same sea green pajamas underneath that she had worn the night before.  “And coffee too?  Bless you.”

“Emma made the coffee.”  He looked down at his pancakes more intently then necessary, checking to see if they needed to be turned.  He’d lived down the hall from her for almost a year and a half and had seen her early in the morning and late at night.  Somehow, though, seeing her barefoot in the kitchen with her hair clearly tousled from sleep felt almost too intimate.  It was too easy to think about the fact that she had been in a warm bed only minutes ago.  His bed, though he hadn’t slept in it for years.  “Everyone else should be down soon and we can eat.”

“Have I mentioned yet how glad I am you stayed?”  She padded through the kitchen towards the coffee maker, her bare feet not making a sound.  After she poured herself a mug she came to stand next to him, close enough to touch if he leaned to the side just a little.  He didn’t.  

“I…”

“Anyone looking for a tickle monster?  Because I caught one.”  Bae came into the kitchen with a laugh, holding an upside down Ruby insisting that she wasn’t a monster.  Emma followed immediately behind declaring that Bae had earned whatever he’d gotten and that a tickling from a two year old was way better than a pitcher of ice water. The sudden chaos only settled down when everyone sat at the table and whatever he had been about the say to Belle was long forgotten.

[redschillzone]

Modern Loneliness (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

(Gif Found Here!)

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.4k Words

Warnings: None

Summary: Natasha struggles to show you she loves you and she realizes she doesn’t deserve you but you prove her wrong with just a few simple words and kisses.

What you saw in her she didn’t know, she was confused as to why you would want someone like her as a girlfriend. Natasha wasn’t exactly girlfriend material, at least in her eyes she wasn’t; She was a skilled assassin, an assassin that should be a stone-cold killer; She was a person who tended to be distant from others, tended to give off a rather deadly and cold aura. She was indifferent from the other Avengers, she was tougher than the other Avengers and yet you didn’t see that all; You saw someone who cared for others, you saw someone who wanted to fight for what was right and then when that was said and done, wanted to relax and take the stress off by having a few drinks or by going out for the night. You saw someone who loved you for who you were and not because of your looks, you saw a girl who wanted nothing more than to have someone as her own and to finally experience what love was meant to feel like.

Natasha struggled to see the version of her that you see everyday, she struggled to believe that you actually loved her for herself and not for some other reason. Sure around you she tends to be this caring, supportive, and sweet person but when others come into play it’s almost as if her whole persona changes and she struggles to retain that happy, carefree persona. She struggles to show others the same love and care that she shows you and it has honestly begun to get the better of her.

Even now as she sits on the patio of the Avengers compound, she couldn’t help but sigh as she put her head down, running her hand through her red hair as she thought quietly. Why did you love her? Why were you with her? She didn’t deserve you, not in the slightest; You were far too kind to her, far too loving for someone who killed for a living. Sure she had changed her path, began to work with SHIELD to cover up her history but it still haunted her to this very day and she was scared that once you knew the truth, you’d run. You’d run away from her and leave her alone and she didn’t want that; She loved you, she really did even though she knew she struggled to show you such things. 

She did her best to give you kisses in public, she did her best to hold your hand whenever you asked and did her best to shower you in gifts and affection but it was a struggle for her; She didn’t exactly have the best past, it wasn’t filled with loving memories so she didn’t know if what she was doing was right or if it was wrong. She was just going off of what she had seen other couples do whenever she was undercover; When she was able to fantasize how loving you correctly would be like, what it would actually look like and whenever she saw those couples, she did her best to picture the two of you doing such things. She couldn’t help herself as the thoughts continued to cycle in her mind; They kept her so distracted that the assassin didn’t even notice you making your way over to her.

“Natasha..? What are you doing up so late..?” You spoke, a sense of worry to your tone as you went and sat beside her on the lounger she currently resided on. Natasha couldn’t help but jump at your words, looking over as she allowed a breath to leave her lips.

“Oh- (Y/N) I uh.. I was just thinking, that’s all. I can’t sleep when my brain is running at a thousand thoughts per second, you know?” She questioned to which you gave a small nod, chuckling lightly as you spoke up.

“You sound like Tony.” You commented to which Natasha couldn’t help but shake her head, shifting her gaze to you as she noticed you were watching her; You still had worry floating in your eyes and she couldn’t help but let out a breath as you spoke up once more.

“Natasha.. What’s wrong? What’s bothering you?” You questioned, leaning over to gently take her hand in your own; You held her hand tightly, giving her a look that she understood perfectly. You wanted her to talk, you wanted her to vent to you so you could help her and she knew that but she also didn’t want to burden you with her own thoughts. Though the more and more she thought about it, the more and more she realized that if she were to put these emotions aside they would eventually catch up to her and eventually destroy her. She couldn’t help but sigh as she went ahead and leaned her head against your shoulder, staring out in the group of trees that resided nearby before she spoke to you.

“I don’t deserve you, (Y/N). I really don’t and I don’t get what you see in me that makes you want to love me. I tend to be cold and distant and yet you still wait on me, you still love me after all of that. I do my best to show you I love you, I really do but I still struggle to even do that and I just.. I know there is someone out there who could love you way better than I can so.. Tell me why, babe. Why do you still love me?” Natasha admitted to you, her hold on your hand tightening as she shifted her gaze towards you and you couldn’t help but stare at her. Did she really just say that she didn’t deserve you? Oh were you about to give her a piece of your mind.

“Natasha.. Sweetheart.. You do deserve me.” You spoke, getting up and moving so you were on your knees in front of her, taking her other hand in your own and holding them both tightly.

“You deserve me and so much more; Sure you have your moments but you’re an amazing person. You’re caring of the others and me. You’re supportive of me and the others as well and you’re trying your hardest to make that known. We understand that so what more could we ask of you? And as I said, you do deserve me; I love you.. I love you so damn much because I know that we’re both broken. We’re both not perfect but we’re trying. We’re trying our damndest and what more could I ask of you?” You spoke, running your thumb across the back of her hand as she watched you, tears welling in her eyes as she listened to your words. Carefully you leaned forward, kissing both her cheeks before you kissed the tip of her nose and continued.

“We’re working through our flaws, Nat.. We all have them… All we can do is work hard and soon enough we’ll overcome them.. I don’t have plans on leaving you anytime soon, I never want to leave your side and I hope that you never want to leave my side either.” You admitted, watching as Natasha gave a small nod and sniffled quietly. She was beginning to understand what you were saying, your words were beginning to break through to her and that was exactly what she needed. 

A comfortable silence overtook you both before she spoke up.

“I.. I never want to leave your side, (Y/N)... I love you, I love you so damn much and I swear you’re the girl I’m going to marry one day. I promise I’ll be better from here on out, I promise I won’t let such thoughts plague my mind.” She told you which caused your cheeks to flare up in a blush before you cleared your throat and gave a small nod before you spoke up.

“I would like that very much, Natasha… And I’ll keep your promises in mind but… Can.. Can I kiss you?” You asked cautiously to which she smiled and gave a small nod, helping you to your feet as she got to her own.

“I would want nothing more.” She told you to which you grinned and pulled her close, crashing your lips against hers in a slow and passionate kiss; You were putting in as much love as you could into it and Natasha could feel it as she kissed back, her arms wrapping tightly around your waist as you two kissed under the moonlight. Natasha knew she was loved, she knew she had someone to fall on and you knew the same; There was nothing in the world that could tear you apart and if they tried, well.. They would have to try a lot harder because nothing was going to take you two down so long as you had each other.

[bettydice]

(Planning the Day) To Meet You

Wangxian, Modern AU, Slow Burn, E-Rated

[Read on AO3]

Chapter 11

Lan Wangji wakes up in a strange bed. Usually, neither his head nor his neck ache like this when he wakes up at home, nor do his feet dangle over the edge of the bed. There’s also something lying across his chest - not a blanket.

He instantly opens his eyes and sees… Wei Ying. He’s not used to seeing his face from this angle, but it is definitely Wei Ying. Lan Wangji immediately relaxes. It’s not a strange bed, it’s Wei Ying’s bed.

He slightly lifts his head to take in his surroundings better. The thing lying across his chest is Wei Ying’s arm. And Lan Wangji is looking up at Wei Ying, because… his head is resting in Wei Ying’s lap.

Ah, right. He had dinner here.

Oh no.

He drank alcohol.

Has he done anything else unwise? Has he embarrassed himself in front of Wei Ying? Did he say anything… he shouldn’t have said?

Lan Wangji tenses. It’s just his luck that somehow, this seems to wake up Wei Ying, who doesn’t seem to be confused at all about what bed he’s in or why he’s in this position. Quite the opposite; it only takes him one or two seconds from opening his eyes to looking down at Lan Wangji and smiling, as though the sight of Lan Wangji in his lap is exactly what he’d expected and wanted to see.

“You’re awake.”

“Mn.” If Wei Ying can smile at him so happily, maybe Lan Wangji didn’t make a fool of himself last night?

“It must be tomorrow then.” Wei Ying’s smile lights up his entire face and Lan Wangji has to blink a few times, his eyes apparently still adjusting to the light.

“Mn.”

Wei Ying looks intently at him, as though he’s waiting for something. Lan Wangji simply stares back, waiting for Wei Ying to tell him what he’s waiting for. Eventually, Wei Ying sighs pretty dramatically, then laughs and pats Lan Wangji’s cheek.

“Ah, Lan Zhan… are you sober now?”

“... Yes.” Lan Wangji closes his eyes for a second, ears burning. He shouldn’t have lost composure like that. “Wei Ying, I’m sorry. That was inappropriate of me.”

“Nothing to be sorry about! But I guess that means you don’t remember, hm?” Wei Ying sighs dramatically again. Then he smiles down at him, and his hand moves on from patting Lan Wangji’s cheek to stroking the hair out of his face. “You really have nothing to worry about, my sweet Lan Zhan.”

His ears are allowed no reprieve, heating up again from Wei Ying’s endearment. And suddenly he has a déjà-vu - no, a memory - of lying in Wei Ying’s lap, just like this…

“Want to look at you.”

“I also want to look at you, so this works out nicely.”

“Wei Ying, if I’ve done or said anything that -”

“No. You were perfect, Lan Zhan.”

Lan Wangji highly doubts that, but Wei Ying sounds very determined and his fingers are still exploring his hair and his cheek, so Lan Wangji doesn’t see a reason to argue with him.

“If Wei Ying says so.”

“Yes, I do!” Wei Ying laughs and then smoothes his fingertips over Lan Wangji’s right eyebrow. “Lan Zhan, how can you be so cute first thing in the morning? What time is it anyway?”

While Wei Ying searches for his phone, Lan Wangji tries to adjust to Wei Ying’s changed mood. No trace is left from his restlessness of the past few days. Instead, he seems somehow both at peace and eager, his words and touches come naturally, and something about it makes Lan Wangji’s heart race. If he could recall more of last night… A fuzzy image appears at the edge of his mind, of holding Wei Ying’s hand, walking behind him, looking at his face and… and wanting him.

“What the fuck, 6 a.m.?” Wei Ying has found his phone under a pillow and holds it in front of Lan Wangji’s face, so he can see with his own eyes that it is 6:12 a.m.

“I wake up at 6 every morning,” Lan Wangji says, fully expecting Wei Ying’s horrified expression.

“Why? Why ever would you do that? You’re a student! You don’t have to make sure a wild radish gets to the daycare on time! Why do you rob yourself of valuable sleep like this?”

“I’m not deprived of sleep. I go to bed early.” And then he adds, a little defensively: “I like my routine.”

“Ah, yes, of course you do. Because you’re my Lan Zhan.” Wei Ying smiles at him fondly, so it seems that ‘being Lan Zhan’ isn’t a bad thing in this case. And being Wei Ying’s can never be a bad thing anyway. “Well, since we’re up, let’s follow your routine! What comes next?”

“Exercise.” Lan Wangji can’t help but smile, suddenly overcome with happiness about Wei Ying and his smile and his gentleness and Lan Wangji being Wei Ying’s sweet Lan Zhan.

“Exercise? Every morning?”

“Mn.”

“But Lan Zhan, we’d have to get up for that. Do you really want that?” Wei Ying smirks and his fingers travel over Lan Wangji’s cheek until they stroke over the skin just below his lower lip.

“... No.” Lan Wangji swallows hard and Wei Ying has a wicked expression on his face, very familiar by now.

“We’re going to skip that one then. Okay, what’s next?”

“Shower. Breakfast.” When he speaks, his lip brushes against Wei Ying’s fingers.

“Shower, mhm? Ah, but we only have a very tiny shower here, barely enough for one person. But breakfast we can do together.”

“Mn,” Lan Wangji replies, in a daze. Why did Wei Ying have to… Lan Wangji has fantasized about this…

“Too much for 6 a.m.?” Wei Ying suddenly whispers, withdrawing his fingers to the slightly safer territory of Lan Wangji’s cheekbone.

Lan Wangji hesitates for a second, then nods. A little too much at least for this particular morning.

“Maybe we should get up after all. We can make a lovely breakfast for everyone. A-Yuan will be so excited to see you’re still here! He’ll probably also be excited to see me for breakfast for once, haha.” Wei Ying smiles down at him again, dimples showing. “Alright?”

Lan Wangji nods again and then slowly sits up. He’s a bit reluctant to leave Wei Ying’s lap and gentle caress behind, but he also really needs to stretch. So he gets up and does just that. Wei Ying chuckles and follows him off the bed, only to collapse against Lan Wangji’s chest.

“Can’t feel my legs!” Lan Wangji automatically grabs Wei Ying’s hips to steady him, while Wei Ying grimaces and hops from one leg to the other. “Ow, ow, they’re waking up, ow, ow ow… ow… okay, better!”

Lan Wangji holds on to him for a few seconds longer than necessary and Wei Ying flashes him a grin. When Lan Wangji finally lets him go, Wei Ying frowns a little and smoothes his hands over Lan Wangji’s chest.

“Lan Zhan, I’m sorry, I messed your shirt up even more.”

Lan Wangji looks down. And indeed, his shirt is terribly rumpled. Combined with the mess his hair surely is in, it must be obvious he spent the night in someone else’s bed. Going home like this… would be a little uncomfortable.

“Uhm, do you want to borrow a t-shirt from Wen Ning? I’d offer you one of mine, but they might be a bit… tight?”

Lan Wangji opens his mouth to decline, then changes his mind. “Mn.”

“Okay, he should be up soon, he has the breakfast shift, haha.”

“Your shirt.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll borrow your shirt.” Lan Wangji turns around and marches over to Wei Ying’s wardrobe.

“Lan Zhan, don’t open that! Wait!”

Lan Wangji stops, hand on the door knob. Wei Ying appears next to him and puts his hand on Lan Wangji’s arm with a sheepish smile.

“There might be, uh… things might fall out. If you open it. So. Why don’t you go to the bathroom and freshen up, while I grab you something?”

Lan Wangji lets Wei Ying lead him to the bathroom, where Wei Ying hands him a towel, shows him where his own toiletries are for Lan Wangji to use, if he wishes to do so. Then he disappears for a minute and re-appears with a t-shirt. The bathroom is as cramped and cluttered as the rest of the flat, and Wei Ying was right, the shower is barely large enough for one person. Lan Wangji freshens up as much as possible. He uses Wei Ying’s brush to straighten his hair and brushes his teeth with his finger. Lan Qiren might faint if he could see him. The thought brings a smile to Lan Wangji’s face. He changes into Wei Ying’s shirt, a simple black one, and it really is a bit tight and short. But it’s Wei Ying’s shirt.

When he’s tidied up after himself and found a place to hang his towel, he feels decidedly more awake and grounded, albeit a small headache remains. He’s in Wei Ying’s flat, wearing his shirt; and the first thing he saw this morning was his smile, and the first thing he felt was his touch. Whatever happened last night, it doesn’t matter, because this is the outcome. He re-joins Wei Ying in his room and Wei Ying... stares at him. Or rather, at his torso. And keeps staring.

“Wei Ying?”

Wei Ying’s eyes snap back up and he points a finger at him. “Lan Zhan, I take it back! You can’t have my shirt!”

“Why not?” Lan Wangji looks down, confused. It’s short, yes, but it still covers all of his stomach.

“You look indecent! How am I supposed to be calm and collected and not flirt when… Why do you have muscles everywhere?”

Ah, Wei Ying has the same issue with his shirt that Lan Wangji had, when Wei Ying had only closed one button.

Lan Wangji smiles a little and says: “I see. Will take it off then.”

Wei Ying laughs and shakes his head. “Who taught you to tease me like that, Lan Zhan? So mean.”

“Wei Ying did.”

“Ah, this Wei Ying person sounds like a troublemaker. You shouldn’t follow his example!” Wei Ying playfully wags his finger. Then he comes up to Lan Wangji, takes his hand, and drags him towards the door. “Come on. We should make breakfast, before I go and ravish you.”

“Wouldn’t mind.”

“Lan Zhan, stop it!”

They prepare breakfast together and Lan Wangji is pleased to note that he is becoming quite familiar with Wei Ying’s kitchen, remembering where most of the things he needs are stored. Wei Ying is also suitably impressed.

A-Yuan wakes up shortly after 6:30 a.m. He is so happy to see Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian, he immediately starts banging on Wen Ning’s door to wake him up. Wen Ning doesn’t seem too upset about it, is actually also rather pleased to see them both here. He doesn’t ask any questions as to why Lan Wangji is here or make comments about anyone being drunk, so… that’s a relief.

After breakfast, Lan Wangji somehow ends up on the couch, A-Yuan on his lap and a picture book in his hands. He has to read the story of Flop the Grumpy Bunny five times, while Wei Ying freshens up in the bathroom. But he doesn’t mind, because the drawings are adorable. When A-Yuan says “Again” once more, Wei Ying comes back and interrupts them.

“A-Yuan, we have to go get ready for daycare. You still need to pick the toy you want to bring! And if you want, tall-gege and I can take you there. What do you think?”

“Yay!”

“Yay!” Wei Ying helps A-Yuan from Lan Wangji’s lap and then looks at him. “Alright, Lan Zhan?”

“Mn.” That sounds lovely.

“After, I’ll bring you home, too.”

Lan Wangji simply blinks in response, confused.

“Alright?” Wei Ying smiles down at him, like he did earlier, like he’s been doing all morning.

“Mn.” He’s not sure why Wei Ying offered to do so, but Lan Wangji sees no reason to question such a gift.

Wei Ying holds his hand on the way to the daycare. A-Yuan is driving a tricycle and only gets distracted and drives it against a tree two or three times. Once they’ve waved him goodbye, they walk towards the closest bus stop. Wei Ying holds his hand again. On the bus, too.

They’ve never held hands for so long. Never where everyone can see. And now Wei Ying does it without a second thought. Lan Wangji happily lets him.

Wei Ying doesn’t say much during the bus ride, simply looks out of the window and enjoys the scenery. Occasionally, he’ll look at Lan Wangji and smile, before turning his head again. Lan Wangji is content to hold his hand and look at him. Sometimes, the sun will hit Wei Ying’s eyes just right, unveiling a secret golden warmth only Lan Wangji gets to see.

Stray memories from last night flutter through his mind from time to time, but Lan Wangji doesn’t bother chasing them down. The present is more important. From what he can recollect, he spent a lot of time last night holding Wei Ying’s hand, too. Maybe this is why Wei Ying seems so used to it now.

Eventually, they reach their destination. They walk to the apartment building Lan Wangji lives in and he fully expects Wei Ying to say goodbye then. But he doesn’t. He also doesn’t do so when they’re standing in front of Lan Wangji’s door. Lan Wangji opens the door, goes inside, and Wei Ying follows him.

Alright.

The guest slippers are still in the same spot Wei Ying left them the last time he was here. Lan Wangji hesitates before going further into the flat. He’s waiting for Wei Ying to take the lead, since he seems to have come here with a purpose.

Wei Ying takes his hand again and leads him into the living room.

“Lan Zhan, are you comfortable?”

“What do you mean?” What a strange question. Lan Wangji doesn’t think anyone has ever asked him such a thing. At least not without proper context.

“Well, are you comfortable in your clothes? How are you feeling? Hungover? Headache? Thirsty? We should take care of all that.”

Wei Ying states this very matter-of-fact, though Lan Wangji doesn’t understand the matter or the fact.

“I think… I would like to change my clothes.” He likes the t-shirt, but it is a little tight and he’d like to change his trousers.

“Okay, let’s start with that. Why don’t you go do that, take a proper shower, or whatever you want. I’ll make you tea in the meantime. Does that sound good?”

“... Mn.” He’s happy to go along with this, even though he feels like he’s in a lecture about a book he forgot to read. “I’ll go get out the tea and mugs for you.”

“Ah, ah, don’t bother! I’ll find everything I need! You go freshen up and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“But-”

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, listen to your Wei Ying.” Wei Ying drags him towards the bathroom and then blesses him with a bright smile, before disappearing into the kitchen.

Lan Wangji listens to his Wei Ying, grabs some fresh clothes and goes into the bathroom. While he takes a quick shower, trying not to get his hair wet, he does try to grab some of those fleeting memories, if only to provide a little context for Wei Ying’s change in demeanour. He remembers more hand holding, even more hand holding…

“You can swear in front of me all you want. Let it all out.”

Swearing. Ah. Well, Wei Ying is the last person who’d mind, so that’s okay.

He’s brushing his teeth, properly this time, when one specific memory suddenly hits him.

“Want to fuck you.”

He almost swallows the toothpaste and hastens to spit it out before he can choke on it. He rinses his mouth and then stares at himself in the mirror, cheeks burning. Is Wei Ying here to…

Lan Wangji closes his eyes, takes a few deep breaths and then he remembers… what followed. Why Wei Ying is here. It’s still a bit hazy, but he remembers Wei Ying’s fingers against his cheek, the smile on his face and…

Tomorrow. It’s tomorrow.

He almost leaves the bathroom without putting on clothes and then he curses the fact he picked out a shirt with buttons. It’s not like there’s a time limit, there’s no rush. But Lan Wangji is so in love with Wei Ying, his heart might burst if he has to wait any longer. Wei Ying is here and he wants Lan Wangji to be comfortable and he wants to kiss him. The last button slips into place and Lan Wangji rushes out of the bathroom.

Wei Ying is in the living room, standing in front of his bookshelf, looking at pictures of his bunnies. Steam rises from a pot of tea on the couch table. He looks as though he’s supposed to be here. When he hears Lan Wangji, he turns around and smiles.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji’s heart can’t hold back anymore, it’s spilling over, running towards Wei Ying. His body follows and he strides over to Wei Ying, takes his face between his shaking hands. “Wei Ying.”

“Lan Zhan, what-”

“It’s tomorrow.”

And then he kisses him.

He kisses him gently, with the same gentleness Wei Ying has treated him with today and every day. Wei Ying rests his arms around his neck and makes a pleased humming sound Lan Wangji plans on treasuring forever.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji pulls back a little, so he can see Wei Ying’s face, can see the way he looks at him, eyes sparkling with happiness, and he has to press another kiss against his lips.

“Mhm.” Wei Ying huffs a laugh and pouts. “I can’t believe you stole my thunder again! I was going to surprise you, confess properly and all and then you-”

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji laughs, too, resting his forehead against Wei Ying’s. “Kiss me properly.”

Wei Ying does.

His lips are warm and soft, patient at first, until they’re not, moving urgently against him. Wei Ying’s hand is in his hair and the other is cradling his jaw and he can feel Wei Ying’s heartbeat against his own.

They’re moving, but Lan Wangji doesn’t care where they’re going, because Wei Ying teases his tongue along his lower lip. Lan Wangji opens for him and follows where Wei Ying leads.

They end up on the couch. He thinks so anyway, because Lan Wangji is sitting on something soft and Wei Ying is sitting on his lap.

Eventually, Wei Ying allows him a moment to catch his breath. They look at each other and oh, Lan Wangji hasn’t seen this smile on Wei Ying before. In wonder, he traces his fingertips over the dimple in Wei Ying’s cheek, then the corner of his mouth, his red and shiny lips.

“Lan Zhan…” Wei Ying leans forward and Lan Wangji expects more kisses, but Wei Ying hugs him instead, presses his face against Lan Wangji’s neck. “I like you an awful lot.”

Lan Wangji tightens his arms around Wei Ying in response, buries his face in his hair, breathes him in. They sit like that for a while, simply enjoying being close, being together. Until Lan Wangji wants to see Wei Ying’s face again and pulls away a little.

“Wei Ying, I want to be with you.”

“Then be with me.” Wei Ying smiles softly and strokes his cheek.

“I’m in love with you.” Lan Wangji can’t believe he finally gets to say this, gets to say it freely, happily.

“Oh… “ Wei Ying inhales shakily and he stares at Lan Wangji as though he sees him for the first time. A tear rolls down Wei Ying’s cheek and Lan Wangji wipes it away. Wei Ying lets out a breathy laugh and then he kisses him again.

Wei Ying seems to put all of his feelings into this kiss and Lan Wangji answers in kind. Even though none of this is familiar to him, he’s not worried, because it’s Wei Ying. And it feels so fucking good.

A while later, they’re taking another breather. Three buttons of Lan Wangji’s shirt have come undone and Lan Wangji’s hands are resting on Wei Ying’s soft waist, under his t-shirt. They’re both hard, but Lan Wangji is happy to ignore that for now, just wanting to kiss and kiss and kiss.

“Lan Zhan, how dare you be so good at this? Such a quick study,” Wei Ying scolds him playfully, while stroking over the newly exposed skin of his chest.

“You make me feel like running.” These words are insufficient for what he feels for Wei Ying, but he doesn’t know how else to express it. His heart is racing and he’s out of breath and if it’s Wei Ying that’s waiting for him, he can’t get there fast enough.

“Is that good?” Wei Ying raises his eyebrows and smirks.

“Mn. Very.”

“Ah, Lan Zhan, but you make me feel as though I have finally arrived. I don’t need to run anymore.” Wei Ying takes his face between his hands, smiles and leans forward, until their foreheads are touching. Then he presses a soft kiss to his lips.

“Wei Ying.”

“Mhm?”

“Kiss me properly again.”

Wei Ying laughs and kisses him, properly.

[vexvamp]

'Cause every night I lie in bed The brightest colors fill my head A million dreams are keeping me awake I think of what the world could be A vision of the one I see A million dreams is all it's gonna take A million dreams for the world we're gonna make

-----

This art was made to go with my Lion Guard fan theory, which you can read below. Kion was drawn by me, but the background is made up of screenshots from the show.

The following is my fan theory/AU/headcanon, which I came up with to fit the Lion Guard show into the universe of the films. Extra info can be found in the description here . ----- Kiara and Kion were born to King Simba and Queen Nala, shortly after the death of their elder brother, Kopa, and the subsequent exile of Zira and her Outlanders. Though born from the same litter, the two of them couldn't have been more different. While feisty Kiara grew strong and healthy, little Kion struggled just to stay alive. He was weak, grew slowly, and was quick to fall ill. Kion was suffering from something the Pride Lander's called the Fading Sickness, which we know instead as an immunodeficiency disorder. No amount of Rafiki's healing mixtures could cure it, and Simba and Nala prayed to the Great Kings that their son would not go to join his grandfather among the stars. Kion's illness persisted from infancy to cubhood. He was smaller than his sister, underdeveloped, and spent most his time confined to Pride Rock. While Kiara began to explore the Pride Lands, Kion was rarely allowed outside for fear that he would catch sickness or overexert himself. Tensions grew between him and his sister, as Kiara secretly wished that she had a sibling who she could actually play with, while Kion resented the fact that she had all the freedoms he didn't. This would eventually culminate in Kiara wondering into the Outlands and meeting Kovu, and this was enough to shock Simba into action. He asked Nala's brother, Mheetu and his mate to move closer to Pride Rock with their two daughters, so that Kiara would have other cubs her age to play with. Kiara found her cousins, Tiifu and Zuri, a bit hard to relate to, but it was still a better alternative to playing by herself. Kion, on the other hand, usually found himself alone. His parents tried their best to spend time with him, but fear of causing him stress combined with the previous loss of Kopa meant that they often treated him as though he was made of glass. This would create a rift in their relationship and make Kion feel as though he couldn't really connect with them. The isolation, and the fact that he was often too tired to even walk the length of the cave, were wearing away at Kion's mind. The young cub was slowly slipping into a deep depression. It was Rafiki, the healer who was often called to help Kion when he fell ill, that began to tell Kion stories. Legends of the Pride Lands, stories of Kion's ancient ancestors, and tales of all the creatures he never got to see in the outside world. Among those stories were those of the Lion Guard, the band of lions which patrolled the Pride Lands and helped protect the Circle of Life. It was hoped that Kion himself might one day lead them, but his illness was making this seem less and less likely. Still, it gave Kion cause to dream. He fantasized about it as he stared at the paintings Rafiki drew for him on the walls of the cave, and through these fantasies he found an escape. He made friends from the characters on the walls, and envisioned himself as their leader. The birthmark on his shoulder became the Mark of the Guard, and his weak, fragile body was forgotten as he fantasized about his imagined power, the Roar of the Elders. The Roar was part of the legend of the first Guard and their leader, who was said to have a roar so powerful that it was as if all the lions of days past roared with him. Kion turned this legend into something fantastical and grand, imagining himself possessing a power so great it wouldn't matter that he was smaller and weaker than other cubs. These daydreams occupied him, his imaginary friends filling the blank spaces in his life, and he spent his days lost in fantasy as the powerful lion he could never be in the real world. Kion's health had its ups and downs over the years, but as he approached adolescence, he suddenly contracted an illness that he couldn't seem to recover from. His body raged with fever, and the young lion slipped into a near comatose state, lost somewhere between sleep and waking, with the illness pulling him ever closer towards oblivion. In this state his fantasies grew violent, with visions of fiery demons in volcanoes and a scar which corrupted his soul. As Kion's condition worsened, it was decided that he would be taken to Rafiki's tree, closer to the store of healing herbs and away from other lions that might transmit further infection. In his brief moments of consciousness, Kion pulled bits of the real world into his tumultuous fever dreams. Rafiki's tree became the Tree of Life, and paintings on the walls became part of his adventure to reach it. Through Rafiki's treatments, Kion would eventually be saved, but he was still confined to the tree when Kiara first reunited with Kovu, and during the final battle with Zira. He wasn't there to see his sister's wedding, but Kiara and Kovu came to visit him afterwards. Kion tried to be gracious, but couldn't help but feel envious of the happy life his sister was living. He was small, sick, and weak. With only a scrap of mane, he looked much younger than he really was. What lioness would have him? So once again he retreated into his fantasies, crafting a love interest for himself and imagining a happy ending to his story. Kion would return to Pride Rock shortly afterwards, unsure of where his place was in this new, blended pride. Worst of all was what came next, when Kovu's sister, Vitani approached Simba and Nala about the Lion Guard. The current Guard had no formal leader, and was made up of lions who were growing older and getting ready to retire. It was a Guard only in name, without the deep-seated traditions of those led by the relatives of the royal family. As the sister of the new Prince Consort, Vitani put forward that she could lead a new Lion Guard. After the death of her mother, she had found herself feeling a bit hopeless and lost, and thought perhaps this could be her new purpose in life. After all, Kion was far too sickly and weak to have any hope of forming his own Guard, so why not her? Simba said he would think about it, and Nala said that they should talk it over with their son. The king and queen saw sense in what Vitani was saying, thinking it might be a chance to really cement the Outlander's loyalty, but Kion was horrified by the suggestion. Although he knew his health made it unlikely, Kion had always dreamed of leading the Guard someday, and now Vitani wanted to take that away from him. Simba pled for him to see sense, and Nala assured him that he would always have a place in the pride, as a prince and as their son. After some persuading, Kion reluctantly agreed to think it over. In his fantasies he imagined Vitani's 'Guard' trying to challenge him and the imaginary partners he had fought alongside for so long. He drew further back into his dreams, fantasizing about a reality where he was loved and wanted and had a place as the ruler and protector of his own world. In the real world, Vitani seethed with frustration, knowing full well that Kion had no chance of leading the Guard, and angry at having her progress hindered by him. Why did he have to take this away from her? Her mother was gone. Nuka was gone. Her pride was scattered. This was all she had. It was only when Kiara came to her and explained all that Kion had gone through, admitting to her own undesirable feelings of resentment towards her brother, that Vitani began to think differently. Kion had spent his entire life locked away in that cave, with his fantasies about the Lion Guard as his only means of escape. Without the hope that he might one day recover and truly lead the Guard, what was left? What purpose did he have? Perhaps he and Vitani had more in common than she had first thought. Vitani went to Kion and confessed how lost she had felt since her mother died, how everything she thought she knew had crumbled, and she was just trying to find a place for herself in this new world. She said that she knew she couldn't replace Kion as the rightful leader of the Guard, but she would feel honored if he could help her become a leader the Guard could be proud of. Kion was struck by this. So often he had been coddled and treated as though he was too fragile to upset, with his family often reluctant to truly acknowledge his condition and what it meant for him. Something about Vitani's honesty struck a cord with him. He was forced to come to terms with the painful truth, but in so doing he found a sense of clarity. In his heart he knew what he needed to do. Kion agreed to help Vitani put together the new Lion Guard, with her as their leader. But even as leader Vitani came to Kion for advice and for guidance, and through this Kion finally found a sense of purpose. As time passed, Kion began to grow stronger. His maturing immune system gave him greater resistance to sickness and more energy to actually leave the cave which had been his prison for so long. Although he would still have occasional bouts of sickness, he was far more resilient than he had been in cubhood, and could use preventative measures to keep his health in check. He even found he now had the strength to accompany the Guard on the occasional mission, though he was primarily restricted to observation and instruction rather than any sort of physically demanding work. He would never be entirely rid of his condition, but he found a place in his family, in the Pride Lands, and in the Lion Guard. 

[tipsydipsydo]

Netflix and Chill🍿[F]

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader 

Gender of the Reader: gender neutral  

Word Count: 2.1k

Genre: Fluff, a bit of Comedy/Crack (or maybe I'm just not funny😅) and at the end a little bit Smut

AUs: University Student AU; Best Friends to Lovers AU (the two just have an almost painfully hard crush on each other without realizing it!🤦‍♀️)

Warning: A really questionable passion for massages and hair play/fondling, some weird situations and a little bit sexual tension in the end but nothing graphic!

A/N: Why did I write this fanfic? Because I count to those peoples who just love to be massaged and have their scalp rubbed. And I have a friend who loves it as much as I do and on our last Netflix night this weird and at the same time hilarious situation really happened. (Yes, I write whole fanfics about strange incidents🤦‍♀️) And when I said goodbye to her, I promised her that I'll write a fanfic about it! She just shook her head laughing and just said:"You can't be serious!" Yes, I'm serious! (Love you Nini♡~)

Please just read the fic, it's really cute and adorable and it won't be that weird like you think now! 🙇‍♀️🙏

I chose Hoseok because a long time ago I read this:

"J-Hope likes if someone stroke his hair-he says it helps him to sleep, a routine he picked up from childhood (when he was young, his mother used to pat him gently to put him to sleep)"

[Source: J-Hope's Profile on KProfiles (I don't know how relieable this Source is!)]

Information: My Masterlist can be found at the end of the Fanfic! 📝

Summary: Hoseok and you are best friends, especially because you two share an unique passion for which you get sometimes quizzically looks from others. Like every Friday Night you meet up to watch some series on Netflix together and massage and fondle the hair of each other. All the same, all innocent as ever. Until it comes to a certain situation and you realize the true meaning behind "Netflix and Chill" faster than you expected...

「© tipsydipsydo」

This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

Pleasurably sighing you turn your head in Hobi's lap to the left side so he can run his fingers through your hair on your right side and massage your scalp with the gentle pressure of his fingertips. If you could, you would start purring like a cat right away, you just love how your best friend knows exactly which massage techniques you like the most.

It's a typical friday night at your place. Like every week you meet your best friend Hoseok either at his dorm room or he comes to your place to gossip a little bit about the university events of the week and to speculate who is into whom, whether person A finally dared to made the first step to person B at the last party and person B still didn't get the hint at all.

Normally you're not the type for gossiping at all and you usually don't do it either. After all, you should mind your own business and don't put your nose in other people's business. But sometimes you can't stop fantasizing together with Hobi how happy some peoples in your university could be if they would only dare to talk to their crush. Or, seen from the other side, believe this person and give them a chance.

Oh, it's just always so easy to discuss other people's problems rather than take care of your own, isn't it?

On these evenings you binge-watch various Netflix Series together and live out your almost "secret" passion. You both just love to get a massage, your hair fondled and a great scalp rub. But you have often noticed that most of your friends don't share this passion and even some of your closer friends look at you quizzically when you ask if anyone can give you a massage.

You talk about the dirtiest secrets with these people, but as soon as it comes to innocent massaging, you find yourself in a "No-No Zone" and some people looked at you as if you're a complete weirdo.

Well, maybe, you two really so have a special relationship for massages than the "normal" humanity. But in these moments you don't care, you have each other to get your desired caresses and that's enough. At least you think so. At least you hope so.

You still try to believe that you've taken Hobi into your heart because of your shared love for massages and hair fondling and not because there are more than "normal" feelings of a very, very close friendship building up in your chest.

Maybe there is really reason why you like it so much to talk with Hobi about other people's crushes. Maybe because not to think so much about your own crush on your best friend and to eventually learn how Hobi sees these things. To get maybe some info on what it means for him to have a crush on someone.

Ah fuck, you just want to enjoy your head massage, nothing more! You're overthinking and overinterpreting things again. There is nothing between you two and there will certainly not be anything. Why you just can't be satisfied with what you have?

"Honey, why are you knit your eyebrows together like that? Does anything hurts or is the pressure to much. Please tell me when I accidentally use to much pressure in my fingertips. Okay?", asks Hobi and strokes tenderly with his thumb over the furrow between your eyebrows until you have relaxed again and the crease has disappeared.

"No, everything is fine, Hobi. I just was thinking about my last lecture, nothing important.", you quickly say, you don't want to make him suspicious because of your unusual behaviour.

...and that's just another thing that makes it so hard for you not to like him even more that you already do when he gives you such cute petnames.

When you once asked him about it, he just shrugged with his shoulders and replied that your female friends call each other (and you included!) Sweetheart or even Darling and he's your best friend after all, why he shouldn't be allowed to do it too?

Yes. He is your best friend. And not your boyfriend. That's the terrible difference! You absolutely don't mind him calling you that way. Just... your damn feelings seems not to understand that small but significant difference!

With gentle stroking movements of his long fingers he indicates that your head massage is gradually coming to an end and that he indirectly wants his favor in return now. You two just enjoy these caresses too much.

A little playful smile forms on your lips as Hobi softly says:

"So... it's my turn now, right?"

"Why do I get the feeling that your massages getting shorter and shorter, just because we can switch places earlier then and you can get your turn of the massage?"

A slight blush tints Hobi's cheeks in a soft pink and he starts pouting in such a damn cute way, so that you can't be mad at him at all, even if you wanted to.

"Take it as a compliment that I can't get enough of you! ...your massages and all, you know...", he mumbles and is suddenly in a hurry to position his head in the hollow of your cross-legged seat and closes his eyes so he's no longer at the mercy of your intense gaze.

A soft giggle leaves your lips and you shake your head, but gently turn his head to the side and let your fingers slide through his hair with light pressure as well.

A deep sigh from Hobi's chest comes over his half-open lips as you start to massage his scalp with small circles and the perfect pressure.

God, that's one of the many things he loves you for. That you didn't laugh or tease him when he told you at your first Netflix marathon a year ago, that he loves to get massages and hair fondling. Sometimes he needs it to fall asleep, that's why he usually watches ASMR massage videos now, to relax and then finally be able to finds his way into the dreamland.

But then there was you, completely different than all the others. Instead of teasing him you looked at him a bit shyly but with a bright smile on your lips and nodded strongly in agreement. Told him that you love it just as much he does and that all your friends look at you in the same confused way too, just like his.

And that was it when it started. With every new meeting he got to know so many other, also so lovely little habits of yours, so that's now difficult for him to keep his feelings for you in check everytime he sees you.

His friends already bother him constantly with the fact that he has his best friend saved as "Sunshine" together with a yellow little heart in his phone. Moreover that he calls you with various petnames, as if you're his partner and not his best friend.

Yoongi also start to asks him all the time when they finally get to the point of not just philosophizing about other people's lovestories and relationships and finally change their relationship-status from "friends" to "couple".

If only everything would be so simple. But that's just only dreaming and not reality. You two are friends, best friends. Unfortunately, to Hobi's displeasure, nothing more than that.

At least you allow him to call you with these petnames and he secretly enjoys it when other guys think that they don't have a chance anyway because it seems like you're already in a relationship with Hoseok.

Hobi hardly understands himself why he mutates into an almost shy and blushing mess when he's with you. Normally he's quite extroverted, outgoing, speaks to everyone and everything in no time, doesn't mince his words and he can be terribly direct sometimes too.

And you? You make your best friend discover unintentionally completely new sides of Quiet- and Shyness. Maybe just out of fear that you'd say that even as friends, if you knew he had a crush on you, it wouldn't work out. He doesn't want to lose a precious person like you just because of a rash gesture or certain words.

"I think you have to turn over on your stomach so that I can massage the back of your head too...", you say in a soft voice that makes Hobi's heart jump again. How he hates his lovesick heart...

He nods and without thinking about it, he turns around on his belly and shifts into a comfortable position. He's about to put his face right into the hollow of your crossed legs and that would mean, he would press his nose directly into your crotch.

That's the moment he realizes what he is about to do and stops abruptly.

"U-Uhm... I-I don't think I should do this...", he stutters in a raspy voice and clears his throat, laughing somewhat awkwardly.

Now you notice too what a questionable imagine this position would give and your head turn bright red. Oh God, why didn't you think of that?!

"Oh shit, I don't think I had thought it the whole way through. Maybe... maybe it would be better if you sit down properly and I would massage your neck and the back of your head in that position?", you say quickly in a nervous voice that almost rolls over.

Hobi nods quickly and gives you an embarrassed half smile before he sits down in your bed in an upright position and his back faces you.

Concentrated you start to massage Hobi's shoulders. You notice how he flinches and automatically stiffens when your hands touch him. Now your pressed lips forms a thin line, you're incredibly sorry to have put him in a such uncomfortable position.

"Sorry about... that. Let's just forget that stupid thing ever happened.", you murmur and stroke gently over and as calmingly as possible over his shoulders. Hobi nods slowly.

"I think we really should. Don't worry about it too much. I didn't realize it right away too. And nothing weird happend in the end anyway."

You hum in agreement. But you can't help it, you start to fantasize about what would have happened if it had happened. To fantasize a completely absurd, but for you completely comprehensible storyline together, why it would have been possible to kiss him. You're sure you seem to be losing your mind.

Yeah, if you only knew that Hobi had the exact same thoughts in his head as you in your own. How he could have managed to kiss and touch you after this hilarious situation. Maybe with a sassy comment like "I wouldn't mind to stay between your legs" and to elicit a cute and a bit embarrassed laugh from you. Then he would have "jokingly" wisper into your ear that he would like to be everywhere above or under you. Maybe you would have got the hint and maybe it would have given you both really a chance.

Maybe. Who the hell knows?

Hobi closes his eyes, relaxes again. God, why do you have to be so freaking good at massages? And before he can watch his mouth, a soft moan escapes his lips with the words:

"Yeah Baby, right there! Yes, that's the spot!"

You swallow hard when you hear this sensual sounds comes out of his mouth. Is he doing this on purpose to tease you? To take revenge to have embarrassed him? You can do that as well!

"Do you always moan like that when you have Sex?", you purr in his ear in your most seductive voice. In the corner of your eye you see Hoseok's Adam's Apple nervously bobbing.

"...do you want to find it out?", he asks with a growling voice and turns to you with darkended pupils.

Now there's nothing to stop you two anymore.

When Yoongi sees the unmissable hickeys on Hobi's and your neck on Monday morning and the way you two smile at each other like two idiots in love and can hardly keep your hands of each other, he sighs in relief.

"Thank God! Finally the miserable sneaking around like two lovesick cats has come to an end! Gradually we couldn't look at that anymore either!", he says it in the moment as the other boys turned around the corner.

[Links]

My Imagines for your requests!

My official Masterlist!

[lettalady]

Alphabet Soup - I is for Identical

The document is due in a matter of days and he hasn't responded to your revisions, nor will he acknowledge the pings you've sent him this morning. You know he's at work. You saw him filter in with the rest of the small group working on the project. Everyone has been burning the candle at both ends to meet the deadline. You've started seeing charts in your sleep, crunching numbers as you toss and turn.

Irritation drives you up and out of your chair. You can see  movement from his workstation, legs sprawled out from behind the dividing wall, knees and feet swaying in a lazy motion as he apparently has bum-fuck else to do but lean back in his chair and swivel away the day.

He's not talking through a problem. He's not been pulled another direction by someone else on the floor, his opinion desired for input on their project. You can't hear his distinctive laugh, or a low-level muttering that you've learned to tune out – his go-to-method for working through a problem.

Maybe he needs another pair of eyes? Supervision to help move towards the goal. Maybe another pair of hands... though the temptation right now is to march over and strangle him. You need to know if he can resolve everything you'd noted in your revisions. You need to know if you'll be staying late, again delaying the reward for the completion of the project, or if you can start looking forward to the much-needed rejuvenating massage.

If he would just answer your pings. What good is an internal messenger system if he won't acknowledge the queries.

The fact that you're standing in place wins you a few curious glances from your coworkers. Maybe... if you get a coffee from the breakroom? A little more caffeine in your system probably won't help but it's a distraction. Except your feet carry you away from the breakroom, leading you towards the man that seems content to while away the morning.

Casual Fridays are evil, you've decided. There's no reason for his denim clad legs to be any more problematic than the buttoned-up attire usually required around the office, but here you are in your frayed state imagining a scenario where you get to yank that dark denim off him.

Your mental fantasy screeches to an abrupt halt as you round the barrier to find him stretched out in the rolling chair, still swaying slowly back and forth. His hands are folded over his stomach, fingers laced together, his focus solidly caught on the ceiling tiles above him.

"What the hell, Chris."

The chair squeaks beneath him as he lurches upright, blinking at you standing there with your hands on your hips. You wouldn't have felt even a little bit sorry if his sudden motion had sent the chair sliding out from under him. Ok, maybe a little, but right now you're too tired and hungry and angry and borderline burnt out to care that you'd given him a start. If he'd been working  it wouldn't have been an issue.

His mouth drops open, hinging to start to form a defense of his actions – or rather, inaction – but you're not having it. You flutter your eyes shut before squinting them open again, glaring at him as you shake your head, "No. I don't want to hear it. We're on a deadline here, or have you forgotten?"

A quick glance aside at his desktop shows his screen and the messenger window with your dialogue still sitting unanswered. At least the files are open on the screen, as well. He's just... ignoring it all.

"I know we're all exhausted. I get it. But..." You try to fight the urge to step forward and kick the bottom of his shoe. Anything would be better than the way he's got his legs sprawled out.

As though reading your mind, he rights himself a little more in the chair, drawing his feet back towards the rolling wheels beneath him. Which – would have been fine, appreciated, even – except the action is coupled with a seeming appraisal of your outfit, and how close you're standing, and ends with a damned look of amusement on his part.

Cue tirade, a bunch of words spilling out of your mouth causing a few curious coworkers to pop up from their chairs like meerkats, others leaning around cubicle walls to source the drama going down. It ends with you demanding that he have the decency to at least acknowledge messages and to let you know the project's status before the end of the day – if it isn't too much trouble.

After lunch, with a little food on your stomach to somewhat dilute level of caffeine in your system you realize maybe you were a little harsh on him. He'd gotten in maybe four words? You hadn't even waited around for any sort of explanation, just told him off and then stormed off – the rest of the floor giving you a pretty wide berth regardless of their involvement in the project.

Add to that the business-as-usual updates from him for the rest of the day, not a single word or sidelong look from him about your outburst, and you're about ready to curl up and melt into the scenery as the end of the day approaches. Then comes the chipper notification from him announcing that all the revisions were completed, the entire group receiving a copy of the final revision of the project for everyone to look over, and a few exclamation marks behind well wishes for the weekend now that the project is behind the lot of you.

Ok. You're an ass and need to go apologize to him. Why hadn't he stopped you? Corrected your assumption that he was putting off the final steps of the project? If he was so close to being done all it would have taken was a few words to course correct your --

Oh, right. The few words you refused to let him utter.

It's an agonizing number of steps to bring you back to his cubicle where he's cleaning up in preparation for leaving, tossing the empty coffee cup from a place down the street and shoving a notepad and pencil into his desk drawer. You clear your throat to get his attention, hemming through a soft greeting. "Er. So... I'm sorry about this morning. It was unprofessional and uncalled for and... I feel like a monumental dick. But um, I looked over that final draft and..."

His eyebrows arch up before knitting together. He's likely wondering why you are rambling through what he already knows. Everyone had clicked to view the document and then responded that they were happy with it. Everyone could see the group chat and the acknowledgements. This is some piss-poor excuse of an apology.

"I wish you'd said something. But I guess today is just the day for me to put my foot in my mouth." You shrug, helpless.

He's clearly just as ready for the weekend, keen to get to whatever he's got planned to celebrate the end of the project – he's already changed his shirt and shoes from the company-acceptable bland that is allowed on casual Friday. The plain shirt was already so so problematic – somehow the faded band logo is worse.

You sidestep, already trying to turn to escape his presence as you issue a final apology, "So anyway, yep. I'm sorry."

There's that thing about return trips. When you're venturing to somewhere unknown it seems to take forever. When you're traveling a familiar path, the trip seems to take a blink of an eye. Really you should have bypassed returning to your desk. You should have gathered up all your things, issued the apology, and then ran for the door. Instead you settle into your chair and stare at the computer screen and start to fantasize about somehow sliding into the matrix of the digital world.

"Hey."

His quiet greeting and the soft knock on the frame of the cubicle wall makes you jump out of your daydream. Is he here to return fire, finally? You slowly turn to face him, readying yourself for what you're due.

"We all have days." His smile grows as he emphasizes the final word, his shoulders jumping with a short shrug.

If he didn't have his hands anchored in his pockets he'd be waving them around – an ever-expressive talker. Sometimes it made you want to tie him to the chair during meetings... which is a super  unhelpful thing to be focusing on at the moment. It's the too-tight shirt, the weather-worn logo stretched across his torso, amplifying the muscles he usually has hidden beneath layers. And the dark denim framing the hips you want to straddle. And –

"I'm supposed to be meeting my brother. Celebration of the completion of the project. But..."

You suck in a breath, feeling the heat of your fantasies pooling in places that make you want to squirm in your chair. Role reversal! He's the one standing at the edge of the cubicle and you're the one swaying in the swivel chair.

Wait. Is he asking you out for drinks?

"Are you asking me out for drinks?"

He digs one hand free from his front pockets, rushing to wave away perceived concern, "No pressure."

"No. I mean, yea. Drinks sound good."

"Ok then."

The awkward barrier built from your outburst starts to fade as the pair of you walk towards your destination. You notice that his phone keeps buzzing. He only responds to every third message, but then he did mention that he'd originally had plans with his brother. He holds the door, tapping out another reply as the pair of you arrive at the bar down the street.

"Look if this is delaying plans..."

He shakes his head, glancing up as he pockets his phone again. "No. Hey. We deserve this. Long overdue stress release."

That's true but doesn't do much to alleviate your concerns that you've interrupted established plans. "I'm trying not to dig my 'I owe you' hole any deeper. First round is on me, for the record."

"There's no owing anybody anything." His laugh is catching as he follows along towards the barstools you've set your sights on. "Just drinks. As for who is paying ..."

It's not up for debate, but if he wants to try to make it into a quick draw scenario that's on him. With the project finally behind you – barring any unforeseen issues discovered by higher-ups – you feel yourself start to relax.

For the first time in – weeks? – you don't feel like you're trying to swallow while someone is sitting on your chest. Laughter is helping. Laughter and whatever those little bite things are that he ordered, too.

He's turned sideways, leaning his elbow on the bar-top and flicking pretzel pieces at your hands. This time when his phone buzzes it jumps off the edge of the bar and into his lap, but he doesn't bother responding to the message he reads off the screen. When you make a face at him he shrugs it off, "He's blown me off more times than I can count."

"You could invite him."

"Fuck no." He blinks at his own response and then emits a sheepish laugh, his cheeks coloring slightly. "I mean – I love him but, no. Not really in the mood to share. He can wait."

"Hey, dickface."

You turn, surprised by the unusual greeting, and then falter. You recognize the clothes: the sneakers, the snug dark denim, the plain shirt clinging to a well-defined torso. You blink and look back at the man sitting next to you who is currently rolling his eyes and groaning.

This must be what going crazy feels like.

You blink again, but nope – it's not a trick of the light.

There's two of them. Him. They're twins.

Your only saving grace at the moment is you know which of them you left the office with, and while they're both in just about the same attire, one has a shirt with words on it. Not-Your-Coworker reaches out to pinch his brother's arm, hard. "The guy that gets the free drinks should be the guy that got his ass chewed by the office hottie."

[ if you prefer reading or getting notifications from Wattpad/ AO3 ]

[pinnithin-writes]

I Realized. Then I Couldn’t Stop Realizing.

Chapter 8: Pleck

Depending on where he looked, it was going to be over before it even began.

After their initial disorganized start to AJ’s sixth birthday, the rest of the festivities had gone quite well for the CLINT. He had enjoyed his trip to the zoo, rolling excitedly between exhibits with his palms gleefully pressed against the glass like, well, like a six year old.

That was what Dar had told Pleck, anyway. He himself had missed most of the zoo trip on account of that bizarre vehicle train and his subsequent run in with Derf. He sat alone at the scroll-strewn table, watching AJ open his gifts from afar while he knotted and unknotted his own thoughts.

Feeling like an idiot wasn’t new to Pleck, but in this moment he felt particularly stupid. All he had just discovered about the Stuff and the Allwheat gnawed at him. Was this something every Zima already knew about, and he had just been floundering by himself in the Space, none the wiser? His eye fell to the paper tangle in front of him. None of his scrolls hinted at the existence of the religion’s other half - at least, as far as he could tell. Perhaps he just needed to give the texts another pass with this new lens.

He wanted to dismiss Derf’s words as nonsense. The old man never really had his shit together, but their latest encounter told Pleck that his mentor was really starting to lose it. It felt appropriate that the two of them had dressed up as clowns earlier. They were just a couple of clowns following a clown religion on a clown mission in a clown galaxy. It all was starting to feel like a big cosmic joke to Pleck.

As he washed the makeup off his face a few hours prior, however, he was compelled to consider the facts. Derf had never been wrong before. As outlandish and hare-brained the man’s guidance was, it was still mired in truths and half-truths. He had been right about Pleck’s destiny. He had been right about the Space. He had been right about the Emperor. Why wouldn’t his crazy old mentor be right about the Stuff?

Pleck watched Horsehat babbling to their father distractedly as he considered this. It was good, as always, to have Nermut aboard the ship. No matter what was going on between the crew’s manager and their captain, it never got in the way of Horsehat being a happy, well loved sentient. Dar’s child was a good kid, and Nermut was doing his best to be a good dad. Seeing the gleeful smile the two of them mirrored at each other made warmth swell in Pleck’s chest.

He loved this chaotic, disjointed little family of misfits. He would love them every single day of his short tellurian life. He would do anything he could to keep them safe and happy.

A monumental task, considering the screaming black sun bearing down on them all. Derf had casually mentioned Pleck sacrificing himself to the being before he so unhelpfully went and died on him again and, well, it ate at Pleck. This was a notion that was all at once ridiculous and terrifying to him. To willingly face an entity that was chewing through planets like so much hard candy? It was undeniable suicide.

But he couldn’t ignore the horrible truth that had haunted him for the past six months. The Allwheat was his fault. Hi s fault. Pleck’s. He was the one who had singlehandedly jucked over the galaxy. It only made sense that he should be the one to un-juck it.

He found his eye lingering on the frame of his best friend across the room. C-53 was patiently explaining his birthday gift to AJ - a handheld educational spelling game set - while the clone fiddled with powering the device on. Working with C-53 to silence the voice in his head had given Pleck a newfound sense of hope in these past few days. The droid’s gentle, reasonable tone grounded and reassured him when he felt his sanity was going to snap like brittle thread.

Pleck had begun to fantasize about the future, an impossible treat he allowed himself in the privacy of his mind. He entertained an idealized, romantic version of their reality, where Nermut and Dar made amends, Bargie was satisfied with her career, and nobody’s life was endangered by an evil, galaxy-wide threat. And who knows, maybe he could have finally told C-53 how he felt about him. Maybe the droid would have even returned his feelings. Maybe they could have been something.

It was a fantastical dream, rose-colored and improbable. But the hope at least had been his, and it had kept him afloat, for however short a time. Now, Pleck could feel that hope being crushed around him as he stared his newfound destiny in its ugly, screaming face.

Pleck suddenly felt very sick and sad. His wants were simple, but so far out of reach. He shouldn’t be guilt-ridden over desiring happiness. Happiness should just be an intrinsic part of living and working with the people he loved. This was unfair, so infuriatingly unfair. To want something so basic and to feel he didn’t deserve it.

Throat tight, eye burning, Pleck scraped his chair back from the table and strode quickly out of the room. He didn’t need to start crying in the middle of AJ’s party. That would bring down the mood for everyone.

“Pleck!” Dar’s voice called at his retreating back. “You okay, bud?”

Pleck managed a weak, “yeah, I’m just-” before choking on his words. He fled, taking his insurmountable failures with him.

---

That night, when things had quieted down, the Allwheat’s voice started picking at Pleck’s mind like a scab, driving him out of his quarters in search of solace. Locating C-53 was starting to feel natural to him now. He padded silently through Bargie’s darkened hallways and sought out his soft, familiar blinking lights.

The droid was in the common area, as was his tendency, resting in a low power state. Pleck habitually collected one of the cushions off of the couch, placed it on the floor next to C-53’s frame, and settled down onto it. He leaned wearily against his friend for support. Still more comfortable than his phone booth of  a room, he mused.

It was dark in the common area, the air thick with a resting silence that Pleck didn’t dare break. He sat with his ear pressed against C-53’s side, listening to the machinery dutifully working away within, even in dormancy. He focused on the gentle sound instead of the Allwheat’s taunting remarks until its terrible voice faded into the background of his mind.

Pleck was just beginning to doze when he heard the resonant sound of C-53 booting up to consciousness. He blinked sleepily as the droid powered on, oriented himself, and noticed the tellurian curled up beside him on the floor.

“Oh, how long have you been there?” C-53 asked, vocal modulator lagging in his delayed wakefulness.

Pleck shrugged in a halfhearted way. “A while.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Pleck responded reflexively. “Things are just… y’know,” he trailed off lamely.

C-53’s head angled toward him. “I’m afraid I don’t know, actually. You seemed more shaken than normal today.”

The fact that he possessed a “normal” amount of shaken would make Pleck laugh if he didn’t feel so shitty. He reached to trace his knuckles across the surface of C-53’s arm, where it loomed protectively over his head. He knew the droid couldn’t feel it. This was just a nice, private thing he did for himself.

“I mean, I did just watch Old Derf die for the fourth time in a row,” Pleck explained into the empty silence. It wasn’t exactly what was bothering him, but of the many ways his mentor had kicked the bucket, this was probably the weirdest.

“Okay, yeah, I guess that was a little unnerving to witness,” C-53 admitted.

Pleck went on. “Did you know he talks to me too, sometimes? Like, sure, I’d rather hear from him than the Allwheat, but my brain isn’t free real estate, y’know?”

C-53 gave an affirmative, “Mmm. I can understand that.” There was a faint clicking sound from his processor before he continued.  “I felt that way when the Federated Alliance installed their protocol on me against my will.”

Peck paused, connecting the dots. “I guess I hadn’t thought about it that way,” he responded quietly.

“It’s hard when you don’t know where the thoughts in your mind are coming from.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, but the words washed over Pleck and engulfed him. He felt deeply, intimately known. It chilled him as much as it excited him. Pleck sat there, next to his best friend, caught in the dangerous knowledge of being understood and yet completely certain that he was safe. He wanted to freeze time right there, to keep that moment to himself forever.

But time didn’t wait, and neither did destiny. His breath hitched in his throat.

C-53 didn’t miss the sound he made. “What’s really bothering you?” he asked.

Gradually, Pleck took out the bundle of thoughts he had been turning over in his head and showed them to the droid. He made sure to keep the part about entering the Allwheat to himself, but he laid out everything he’d learned about the Stuff, his frustrations with Derf, and how his destiny was far from over. C-53 took it all without judgment as the tellurian poured himself out messily between them.

When he was done, he sagged heavily against the droid’s frame. He was so tired. He just wanted one good night’s sleep.

C-53 was silent for a time, but Pleck could hear the uptick in his processing power as he thought things over. “Does this mean you’re going to have to spend six months training alone again?” he asked finally.

“I…” Pleck hesitated. “I don’t know. I don’t want to, but...”

The time he had spent mastering the Space had been lonely but necessary, and he still regretted leaving his crewmates to flounder on their own in Holowood while he practiced swinging a stick around. Dar had done alright, but the rest of them had suffered in his absence. He wasn’t sure he could voluntarily do that to them again.

“Well, I don’t want you to, either,” C-53 said.

“You don’t?”

“No.” he responded. “I don’t like it when you disappear. Things just aren’t the same without you.”

Guilt flooded Pleck’s heart. “I’m going to disappear eventually,” he muttered, then immediately regretted it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” C-53 asked as his fan kicked on.

“I mean like-” Pleck attempted to backpedal, but he ended up gushing out more words like an open wound. “Like I’m not gonna be around forever. You and Bargie are essentially immortal, Dar will live decades longer than I will-”

“Pleck-”

“And who knows how long a CLINT’s lifespan is. I’ve got what, sixty, seventy years if I’m lucky? I’m just not gonna be a part of your lives that much longer, okay?”

The astonishment in C-53’s voice was unmistakable. “Pleck, where is this coming from?” he asked.

“I don’t know, I don’t-” He choked on his words again, hot tears threatening to spill down his cheek. “I gotta go.”

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring C-53’s protests. He had to get out of here. This was all too much for him, to sort through what parts of himself to keep and what to give.

“Pleck, talk to me,” the droid’s voice echoed down the hall after him. “What did Derf say to you?”

He squeezed himself into his room and shut the door, crouching down to hug his knees against his chest. He should never have let C-53 see this side of him, let him get this close. Pleck couldn’t compartmentalize his feelings all neat and orderly like the droid could, and it was foolish to think he could share so much of himself while keeping certain parts hidden from him. He was tellurian, organic and messy, and all of C-53’s hard work to put Pleck back together was going to be wasted when the Allwheat ate him for breakfast.

Pleck held himself and cried silently. Hoping had been a mistake. He wasn’t going to let it happen again.

Chapter 7 <-----> Chapter 9

[superpuppies]

Hobbit High

Chapter 6: Ori’s Stash

Fandom- The Hobbit

Characters- Ori X Dwalin, Bilbo X Thorin, Fili, Kili, Dori, Nori, Gandalf, Thlandral, Legolas

Rating- PG15

Word count-2,408

Archive Link- https://archiveofourown.org/works/10027448/chapters/57583495#workskin

Summary- While Ori sleeps Dwlin helps himself to a few of the fantasizes Bilbo had dreamed up for Ori.

Hey all, here’s the newest from my mind, please keep in mind that I do have dyslexia and I really do try to fix all spelling mistakes but some will always slip through. If you spot some please let me know and I will do my best to correct it. Thank you.

Once Ori was nicely tucked, well half tripped half dropped on to his bed and curled into his blankets. Dwalin took a moment to look around the room this marked the first time he would spend an extended amount of time in Ori’s room. Nori had almost always seemed to find a reason to pester his baby brother when he knew Dwalin was on his way over, though Dwalin himself had always hovered in the door way. Dwalin heaved a sigh and actually looked at the room he now stood in. The walls were painted a soft earthen brown, lined in waist high deep oak bookshelves except next to the window where a small oak computer desk sat and on the opposite wall where the bed laid it’s claim. Only a few posters where scattered above the bookshelves, of some of Ori’s favorite comics and novels that had been turned into films. There was one that surprised him though, nestled in the corner next to the closet was a poster of Sailor Mercury and Sailor Saturn posed back to back ready to defend their calmly reading counter parts. The poster made Dwalin smirk; it was oddly girlish yet not quite as it was also the only one that had any female presence or a human one for that matter.

Glancing at the bookshelves a three-inch binder labeled algebra glared back at Dwalin from midway between the bed and the closet. He crossed the room and carefully pulled the binder from the shelf. Opening the binder with a mixture of feeling both dirty and ridiculous, he was a bit surprised to find that it was actually full of stories instead of math, just like Nori had said. He was not however surprised that there was a small table of contents with only dates and page counts, the fact that each story had its own matching labeled divider certainly helped.

Dwalin turned on the bedside lamp and flicked off the overhead before settling with his back against the bed the binder on his lap. He picked a divider at random and opened to the story of 3-27, no title was on the actual story itself, which made Dwalin sigh. Truthfully how was he supposed to have any clue what this was about without a title? Dwalin wondered, then supposed that titling them and bringing them to school was probably too much of a risk. With another sigh he let the lack of title go and started reading only to stop and double check that there wasn’t something that came before, because the story just seemed to jump right in.

Ori bit his lip to keep the groans from pouring out of him but it did very little to stop them. Dwalin tightened his hold on the slender red heads hips as he pistonned into him harder. Dwalin let out a guttural sound and pressed Ori’s face harder against the cold slick desk top.

Dwalin stopped reading; it was weird and confusing reading about himself like that. Yes, he understood what was happening but he just didn’t understand why and it didn’t look like he would be getting an answer any time soon. He flipped to another story deciding that 3-27 was not the place for him to start. He skipped over two and stopped on 4-10.

Five twenty in the evening the Ri house is as quiet as the rest of the street as Dwalin, a local football star makes his way up to the door and rings the bell. The door is opened moments later by the middle Ri boy, Nori, who greets his friend with a mischievous grin. “Good you made it.”

“I live two streets over, why wouldn’t I make it?” Dwalin grumbles as he walks into the house.

“Right, right. I just meant as fast as you did is all.” Nori smiles shutting the door. “Now come on I want you to see this.” Nori starts up the stairs with Dwalin just behind.

“This better not be anything stupid. I had to make ridicules promises to get out of the house.”

“No, no you’re gonna like it. Trust me.” Nori said smiling standing at the far end of the hall his hand on the doorknob of his older brother’s room.

“Why are you going into Dori’s room?”  

“Because that is where it is.” Nori smirked then opened the door and shoved Dwalin through it before walking in himself and closing the door. Dwalin caught his balance and turned on Nori but quickly turned back as his mind said it had seen something very unexpected.

Dori sat on the end of the bed an oddly dark smile set into his usually kind features, as the fingers of his right hand brushed softly over the top of a very naked, tided down, blindfolded and whimpering Ori’s foot. Dwalin’s mouth went dry at the sight of it which made speaking more difficult than it should have been.

“What the-“

“Hmm, I was pretty sure you wouldn’t make it.” Dori chuckled. Dwalin tried to start again but words failed him and so he fell silent as Nori wrapped himself around Dwalin’s shoulders.

“The last couple of times we were playing Dori and I found out a little secret.” Nori rested his head on Dwalin’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. “Would you like to know it?”

Dwalin twitched away from Nori, uncomfortable with his friend’s moist hot breath brushing against his skin. “What the hell is going on?” Dwalin finally managed to get the words to form shaking Nori off of himself. Dori’s chuckle caught him off guard and tore his eyes back to the eldest Ri.

“We’re playing.” Nori stated as if it were obvious.

“Playing what?” Concern tainted Dwalin’s voice.

Dori sighed as he stood. “Do you want to know the secret or not?” Dori stated, hovering at the end of his bed waiting. While Ori murmured and searched for the now lost contact as much as his bindings would allow. Dwalin gave himself a moment to think and then with a slight lowering of his head asked.

“What’s it about?”

Dori smirked confidently. “Well no, I didn’t say anything about giving you clues. It’s either you want to know or you don’t. There is no half knowing in this.”

Dwalin exhaled heavily, running his hands over his face. Yes, he did want to know in fact at this moment he wanted to know a lot of things, but no, he was also pretty sure he didn’t want to know. He could make guesses at a few things here, ones he was sure would be quite accurate. It would be nice to just turn around, return home and act like this hadn’t happened, like his friend didn’t have his brother bound naked to a bed like it was a normal thing. But he knew he couldn’t just go back to how it was before, he wouldn’t be able to forget, just let it go. It would bother him, yeah he could guess and hypothesis but he wouldn’t know and that would eat away at him. “Yes.” He finally said quietly with his eyes locked on the carpet.

Nori laughed out right as he started for the bed.

“Wow, I really thought you were going to back right out of the room.” Dori said with a smile that almost resembled his usual one. Dwalin looked up as the two older brothers settled on opposite sides of the bed. “No backing out now though, Dwalin.”

Nori ran his hand slowly up Ori’s left leg, over his thigh then slowed to play on the hip bone. Ori bowed into the touch biting his bottom lip to stifle his wanton moan. Dori smirked as his fingers began to play across Ori’s stomach. Ori quickly lost the fight to stay silent and gasp sharply before falling into a panting groan as sensation attacked him from both sides.

Dori leaned in close to Ori’s head and hooked a wire around his pinky, giving the wire a gentle tug and earphone dislodged from Ori’s ear and tumbled down the pillow. With a low and darkly smooth voice Dori stage whispered. “You’ve been a very good boy, Ori, waiting so patiently. Now you just need to do one more thing.” Ori let out a shuttering whimper that sent anticipatory shivers down Dwalin’s spine and played in the back of his mind. Dori smirked watching Dwalin’s reaction as he continued. “Tell us who you want, who, you really want.”

Ori’s lip quivered slightly but slowly and very softly he began to speak. “I, I want… Dori.”

“Liar!” Dori growled slapping Ori hard across the face as Nori removed his hands from Ori’s thigh. Disappointment clouded Nori’s face as he stood beside the bed looking down on his younger brother though Ori couldn’t see it. Ori remained silent and Dori smiled proudly at that as he leaned back over his youngest brother. “Let us try this again, Ori. Who do you want?” Ori’s cheeks tinted pink and he turned from his brother, had he been able to see he would have realized he was looking right at Dwalin. “Ori.” Dori demanded.

“Dwalin.” Ori blurted out, looking as ashamed as he could without actually curling in on himself.  Dwalin simply gawked; he couldn’t wrap his head around what he had heard. Both Nori and Dori smirked. Nori watched his friend with interest as Dori spoke again. “I think that can be arranged.” With gentle fingers he pulled the blindfold from Ori’s eyes. Ori was still facing Dwalin and as Dwalin realized what Dori had planned he stepped forward with a panicked.

“Wait.” Ori’s eyes snapped open at Dwalin’s voice an odd tension of horror and want played over his body.

“Would you rather him blind?” Dori asked raising an eyebrow. Dwalin didn’t answer as his eyes ran unabated over Ori’s skin. “Dwalin.” Dori snapped pulling Dwalin’s attention back to the question and his eyes away from Ori.

“No.” Dwalin sounded a bit unsure of his answer.

Nori moved right up against Dwalin’s side and ran his hands down Dwalin’s arm. “So you do want him then?” He smiled slyly.

“Stop pawing at me!” Dwalin snapped pulling his arm away from Nori’s grasp.

“Come here, Dwalin.” Dori called him closer to the bed, Dwalin hesitated.

 The bedroom door cracked opened and Nori peaked his head in. He smiled at the back of Dwalin’s head as he quietly entered the room; he knelt down on the edge of the bed and leaned over Ori then Dwalin’s shoulder. “What you reading?”

Dwalin jumped at the sound of Nori’s voice next to his ear. “Holy crap, man! Don’t do that.” He hissed turning to Nori. Nori simply shrugged reaching past him and thumbing back a few pages.

“Oh, you don’t want to read that one it’s weird. Nori said standing, crossing back over to the book shelf and grabbing an unmarked binder. “These, however, are some of my personal favorites.” Nori said walking back over and settling next to Dwalin, as if it were perfectly normal to have favorite stories about one’s brother and best friend in sexual situations. “This one has you and Thorin getting drunk then sneak up here to have your wicked way with Ori and Bilbo.” Nori chuckled flipping through the pages in search of that particular story.

“Aren’t there any stories where I’m not taking some sort of advantage of him?” Dwalin groaned.

“Not in this house.” Nori shrugged still flipping pages. “He just doesn’t see you for the giant teddy bear you are.”

“The wha? I am not.”

“You are. I’ve seen how you’ve turned down any girl that’s come to you with an offer. I’m still not quite sure how you manage to keep them liking you, I mean Thorin’s got that rumor that he’s got a girlfriend from that stupid archery going for him but you, you got nothing .”

“Well, thanks for that.” Dwalin set a pouting glare at Nori. “So he really thinks I’d use him?” Dwalin continued sadly looking up at Ori’s sleeping face.

“Seems that way.” Nori shrugged. “I guess he figures it’s the only way he would get any attention from you. You know like if you used him for some sort of stress relief” Nori let his sentence fade as he turned to look at his friend. He was sure he hadn’t seen Dwalin looking so defeated since they had lost the homecoming game by two points back in freshman year. Nori cleared his throat bringing Dwalin’s attention back to him. “So you’ll just have to show him that he’s wrong.”

Dwalin half smirked as he looked at the story Nori had stopped at. “So, I’m drunk in this one?”

“Yep.” Nori smiled. “Apparently Dori’s not so good at locking up his scotch.”

“Scotch? I would have thought him more of a brandy man.”

“Schnapps actually but in this particular tale Scotch.”

“Schnapps? Really?”

“Yep, Butterscotch and apple are his preferred.”

“Your brothers are something else.” Dwalin said shaking his head.

“Yeah, well, you know.” Nori handed Dwalin the binder. “So, you gonna read it? I should really get back or Bilbo’s virtue might not make the night.” Nori stood but waited for Dwalin’s answer.

“I don’t know, I’ll think about it.”

“Alright but he’ll never know so you may as well use it while you can.” Nori shrugged and closed the door behind him.  

Dwalin thumbed the upper corner of the page for a moment trying to decide whether or not to start this story. With a soft huff he placed the binder on the plush sand colored carpet and climbed up onto the bed behind Ori. Dwalin spooned himself as close to Ori as he could without actually touching the boy. He watched Ori’s chest rise and fall but all he could think of was the dark bruises still forming beneath the thin layer of t-shirt. Dwalin was sure he was just as responsible for them as Fili and Kili were. With another huff Dwalin leaned over Ori and turned off the light.  Settling back on the bed Dwalin allowed himself a moment of creepy stalker behavior and sniffed Ori’s hair. It smelled of the apple blossom shampoo he had seen in the tub and of Ori himself, the earthy clean of paper, ink and charcoal. Dwalin drifted off to sleep a small smile on his face.

[d3-iseefire]

She Walks in Shadow Chapter 17

Bilba studied the pony critically.

The animal, in turn, completely ignored her, which was simply rude. Particularly given how sore she was. Everything hurt, and she could barely walk straight thanks to all the riding from the day before. One would think the least said pony could do was acknowledge her presence after causing her so much physical discomfort.

Instead, said pony was focused on its food, munching away with a glassy look in its eyes. Most likely fantasizing about how it planned to torture her later.

"What are you doing?"

Bilba jumped and spun around to see Fili standing behind her, studying her with a raised eyebrow. Past him most of the Company milled about, finishing up preparations to head out.  

"I think they've gotten bigger since yesterday," Bilba complained, crossing her arms.

Fili came and stood beside her, studying the pony. "I don't know. Seems the same size to me."

"That's because you're bigger," Bilba grumbled. "Hobbits were not meant to ride ponies. It's why our feet are so tough, so we can walk where we need to go."

Fili chuckled. He had a nice laugh, Bilba noted. It was deep and rumbling and seemed to build upward from his toes until it simply rolled out of him.

The young prince flung the bags he'd had over his shoulder onto the pony's back and strapped them into place. Then, before Bilba could react, he grabbed her and, as if she weighed nothing at all, lifted her up into the saddle.

She grabbed at the reins and sat stock still, terrified the slightest movement would send her sprawling to the hard-packed dirt below. She glared down at Fili, who gave her an entirely unrepentant grin in return. He grabbed the front of the saddle, forearm pressing into her leg for a moment, slid his foot into the stirrup and, in one easy move, swung into the saddle behind her.

The motion caused her to rock and Bilba tightened her grip on the reins as his body settled in, legs on either side of hers, chest pressed into her back. So inappropriate, her mind informed her. Her neighbors would be scandalized. She should insist he allow her to ride her own pony or walk or...something.

She really, really should because all this was just...completely...inappropriate.

Fili leaned forward, pressing harder again her, and brought his head nearly alongside hers. His hands came to rest on her elbows before slowly sliding forward to cover her hands where they held the reins in a near death grip. "I should probably take those."

"What?" Bilba's brain was legitimately not working, had stopped working the moment he'd pressed forward. An odd thrill she'd never felt before ran through her and her heart pounded in her chest.

"The reins," Fili clarified. "I should probably take them."

"Oh, of course." Bilba released her death grip, put her hands on her legs and stared very hard at her lap. Her face felt like it was on fire. Fili settled back again, and she risked raising her head, only to see Kili a few feet away openly smirking at them.

If possible, Bilba's face got even hotter.

What would her mother think?

She frowned.

Her mother would probably congratulate her.

Fili clicked at the pony, and she felt the muscles in his legs tense as he urged the pony into motion. The first few steps threw Bilba back into his chest. The day before she'd spent most of her time trying to hold herself away from him which, she was sure, had doubled how sore she felt today.

Once the pony settled into an easy gait she took a deep breath and stayed right where she was.

She was simply trying to cut down on being sore.

Honest.

Fili couldn't take his eyes off her.

Not that he wanted to.  

He'd expected Bilba and Dwalin to ride behind the Company as they'd done the day before and had deliberately held himself back to try and ride near them.

Instead she was up front, next to his uncle. Dwalin rode on Thorin's other side while Gandalf was just out in front.

She'd been chatting with his uncle for over an hour now, voice too low to carry to where he was.

She hadn't looked back once but, even so, Fili had no doubt in his mind that she was fully aware of him staring at her. He didn't know how he knew. He just did.

"You know," Kili said from next to him, "you're beginning to worry me, just a bit."

"I'm beginning to worry myself," Fili admitted.

Kili fell silent, watching where Bilba rode easily next to Thorin. She'd been sore that morning, Fili knew. He'd seen her trying to hide it though he didn't know if it was a result of the prior night's activities, the day spent in a saddle or a combination. In any event, he doubted riding was a pleasant experience for her now, but one wouldn't know it to look at her.

"I really would have thought she hated you," Kili said, almost to himself. "Like, stab you kind of hate you, not--" he waved his hand vaguely. "You know."

"When she came in she was actually looking for you," Fili offered, giving his brother a slight smirk as he did. He kept his voice low as he spoke. They were well back of the others and should be out of earshot, but the last thing he wanted to risk was anyone overhearing him talking about things that were simply none of their business.

Kili gave him a horrified look. "You're joking."

"I'm not." A thought occurred to him and Fili frowned at his brother. "Wait, about what you said happened --" his eyes flickered toward Bilba. "You don't think that -- I mean, are you feeling --"

"The only thing I feel toward her," Kili cut in, "is mild terror and a strong desire to sleep armed."

"You already sleep armed," Fili said in exasperation.

"Yes," Kili agreed, "but now I have a desire to do so."

Fili chuckled. He started to look back toward the front, caught himself and forced himself to focus on his surroundings instead.

There wasn't much to see.

The land was mostly flat, or given to gently sloping hills, as far as the eye could see. Every now and then they would pass through copses of trees, some big enough to almost qualify as a small forest, but that was about it.

"Uh-oh," Kili said suddenly, under his breath. "Looks like you're getting competition."

Fili's head jerked back around to see Bofur had moved up to ride alongside Bilba and was now engaging her in conversation. She had her head turned toward him, but her expression was flat. It had been flat, in fact, since she'd returned from wherever she'd gone earlier in Bree. Back when she'd panicked over the thought of having hurt him. Dwalin had gone after her and, when they'd returned, her face had been neutral. Flat.

Entirely blank.

"He's no threat," Fili said, startling himself at the conviction in his own voice. He scowled at his brother. "She's not that fickle."

"No," Kili agreed, voice slow and careful, "but just because she --" his eyes went to the backs of those riding a distance in front of them, and he cleared his throat. "It could have just been a thing, you know? I'm not saying that means she's going to just--" another vague hand wave, "you know, but she could if she wanted, you know? I mean, if someone catches her eye --" He trailed off as Fili just continued to stare at him intently. "You did say she was looking for me at first," he finally tried, weakly.

"She was lying," Fili stated. He knew she'd been lying. He just didn't know why she'd been lying.

"Are you sure that's not just your --" Kili scowled suddenly. "Okay, how about this? Did you feel any spark when you touched her?"

Fili settled back again into his saddle. "It occurs to me," he said slowly, "that none of us actually know what the spark feels like. Since it's so rare there's no one I can even ask to see what it felt like for them."

"So does that mean--" Kili asked.

"I felt something," Fili said, "but I can't begin to explain what it was."

"Huh." Kili frowned. "Well, that sucks."

Fili sighed. "On that, little brother, we can agree."

                                                ***

They stopped for lunch a little after midday when the sun had just moved past its zenith. Thorin kept them going until they came to a moderately sized grove of trees where they could rest without being visible for miles across the open plains.

After they'd dismounted, Fili volunteered to go collect fallen branches and sticks to start a fire. It'd be a chance to stretch his legs and give him a chance to, perhaps, clear his head.

Bilba had dismounted stiffly and was currently glaring at her pony. Dwalin said something to her and, even from where he stood, Fili could see that her response was less than polite. Dwalin simply shook his head and wandered off to speak to Thorin. Bofur, who'd been in the process of heading toward her, suddenly veered off and went to help Bombur unpack the cooking supplies.

Deciding the two had the right idea on leaving Bilba alone, Fili strode into the small cluster of trees. He walked until the voices of the others had faded to a low murmur in the background before finally stopping in a small clearing where he sighed and closed his eyes relief.  

"You shouldn't close your eyes when you're out in the open like that."

Fili didn't react aside from fighting a slow smile trying to spread across his face. He'd felt her approaching. It wasn't simply his warrior's sense, or the extra sense that told him when another presence was near. He'd known it was her, specifically, without having to look.

He opened his eyes to see her standing at the edge of the clearing behind him. She had a quiver of arrows and a bow held loosely in one hand, while the other gripped a small clay pot with a boiled leather covering over the top.

It was funny, Fili thought. The entire reason he'd gone off by himself was to be alone and clear his head yet the sight of her, rather than rather than causing him irritation or resentment, brought nothing but a sensation of peace, and happiness.

He liked being around her, even when she was at her worst and he just wanted to be left alone.

"Is that my brother's bow?" he asked in amusement.

She shrugged. "He wasn't using it."

He probably also didn't realize it was gone, Fili thought, but he didn't point it out. He did, however, feel compelled to ask, "what happened to it pulling to the left?"

"I can adjust to it," she said simply. "They didn't have one in Bree."

Fili raised an eyebrow. "They didn't have a bow in Bree?"

"Not one I liked." Bilba frowned at him. "Take off your shirt and get on your knees."

Fili's eyes narrowed. He ran her words back through his mind, decided he had, in fact, heard her correctly and then ran them back through again just to be sure. "That is -- probably the strangest proposition I've ever heard."

She rolled her eyes. "It wasn't a proposition." She made a "hurry up" motion at him with the hand that held the small pot. "Shirt off, now."

This time it was Fili who rolled his eyes, even as he obediently unstrapped his swords and shrugged his coat off. As he started pulling other weapons off he nodded at the small pot. "Let me guess, Oin doesn't know you have that either?"

"Burglar, remember?" Bilba asked.

"I don't know." Fili reached behind to grab his tunic and pulled it up and over his head. As he dropped it on the ground he saw her eyes flicker down his body and back up again. He smirked at her to let her know he'd noticed but was promptly ignored. "Nori's a thief but you don't see him rummaging through our packs."

"I didn't rummage through anyone's packs." She moved toward him and Fili sank dutifully to his knees.

Bilba went behind him, threw a foot over his bent legs and knelt. The position, in addition to the soreness he knew she was already suffering, had to be insanely uncomfortable but she made no effort to adjust.

She must have put the bow, arrows and pot down because he felt her hands lightly pulling his hair back. She drew it into a short ponytail, folded it in half and secured it with what felt like a leather thong at the base of his skull.

With his hair up, and her so close, he could feel her breath against the back of his neck. He heard her moving and then felt her fingers lightly on his back, spreading the thick ointment from the pot across the welts crisscrossing his shoulder blades.

"I'm sorry," she said softly as she worked, fingers impossibly light against his skin. There was a slight burn as she touched the abraded flesh, but it was quickly dulled by the ointment she worked in, spreading a cool feeling across his back.

"I don't recall complaining about it at the time," he said.

"You should have." Her fingers drifted lower on his back, and he let out a hiss as her thumb dug into the knot in the middle of his back. "Why are you so tense?"

"Have you met my uncle?" Fili asked dryly.

She was silent, her fingers moving back up to his upper back and the welts. The feel of her fingers lightly kneading the ointment into his skin was soothing and Fili let his eyes drift closed again. He relaxed, pressing back against her fingers and felt them dig into the muscles in response, massaging out the knots.

At some point, he became vaguely aware that the ointment had long since been completely absorbed, but her fingers continued to knead the skin around the welts, moving down to the middle of his back and his flanks. That stubborn knot loosened at last and he resisted the urge to groan in relief. He had a feeling that, if he did, he would only succeed in spooking her.

Suddenly the fingers on his waist slid forward, until her arms had wrapped entirely around him. One of her hands came around to press flat against his stomach while the other moved to rest in the same position over his heart. Her body pressed against his back and he felt her rest her head over his spine just between his shoulder blades.

Fili could feel her breathing against his back and, as slowly as possible, he moved his hands to cover hers where they lay on his stomach and chest.

After a few seconds she suddenly sucked in a breath, and pulled away from him, tugging free of his hands and standing to her feet behind him.

"I'll put more on this evening," she said, voice flat behind him. "The wild is no place to get an infection."

"Don't I know it," Fili murmured. She moved past him, bow and arrows back in hand, pot presumably shoved into a pocket somewhere inside the coat she wore. For the first time, Fili noticed the twin swords she wore strapped to her back.

"Maybe we could spar some time." He stood as he spoke, grabbing his tunic to pull it on.

She twitched but didn't stop or look back. "No."

"Is that no because you're worried you'll lose?" he challenged.

She laughed. "Nice try."

She vanished into the trees, leaving Fili alone behind her.

He grinned and reached for his weapons to arm himself again.

He'd made her laugh and was determined to accomplish it again.

It wasn't at the place he wanted to be with her, but it was a start he decided.

A very good start.

Follow on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16547237/chapters/38767136