#i still can't figure out how to link the chapters together

[bloogers-boogers]

Kyle Brofloski/ Eric Cartman (SP FIC) part 3

/A player with lies/

Fatass can actually move? Kyle gets overly pissy for no good reason and Stan needs a damn break

Slight warning ⚠️ the characters name says it all, if you're not comfortable with the ship then this isn't for you, but if you are then hop on in and enjoy the ride ☆

~~~~

It was a beautiful morning, three boys waited patiently for the bus to arrive, it was a Friday, meaning it's time to finally take a break from school after a hell of a week.

Stan was on his phone as he scrolled effortlessly through his social media, liking randomly posts with out putting to much thought on it.

Kyle yawned tirelessly as he was still caught on doing extra work for school the last few days because of his lack of attendance from last month, so yeah, sucks for Kyle.

And dear Kenny found himself watching some porn shamelessly with out earphones on, as he grinned watching big boobs appear on screen.

The absence of their fourth friend wasn't too noticeable, as Cartman had the tendency to do shit in the morning after breakfast making him come either too late or too early depending on the scheme he's doing.

A blonde beaming boy walked their way, placing himself infront of them, a little too cheerful for their liking.

"Morning to you, Butters," Stan commented, more like a question than a greeting.

"Mornin' hasn't Eric arrived?," he asked glancing at his spot.

Neither bother answering as it was obvious he hasn't.

"Geez, he must be really excited today," He commented as he took out his phone and typed in some music, Kyle arched a brow confused.

"Let me guess, he's 'excited' to lay in bed, doing absolutely nothing, eating junk food for two days straight." Kyle sarcastically said, making the other two boys laugh.

Butters tilted his head, bewildered as he eyed him. Making Kyle feel insecure about being stare down like if he didn't know what he was talking about. He knew the fatass, no one should make him feel like he didn't.

It's Cartman, what else could Cartman be possibly excited for during the beginning of the weekend? If it isn't to lay down in bed and do nothing, mostly school related. Even though he doesn't do much of that either during the week, but still, he had an excuse.

"He.. hasn't told you guys? Oh hamburgers," he looked around, "I think I said too much then," he tried dashing off but Kenny stopped him by placing his hand on his chest pushing him backwards.

"What're you talking about, Butters?," Stan asked, now placing his phone in his pocket.

The blonde scratched his neck nervously before spitting out the truth, "you guys may not know this, but there gonna be a roller derby in town tonight, I thought Eric had already told you guys but-"

"What're you talking about, Butters?," Kyle snapped, gripping on to his shoulders shaking him frantically, "what could possibly Cartman do and hide from us?," He blurted out almost daring.

"Yeah, dude, Cartman's an awful liar, normally he'd come running to us if he was excited about something just to tell us all about it," Stan defended Kyle's argument, even though he found his reaction a little overeating.

"That's what I thought!," Butters exclaimed, letting loose from Kyle's grip, "I figured Eric would've told you by now cause he's been in it since sixth grade. "

"Since sixth grade!?," Kyle blurted out in disbelief, "that's bullshit, Butters. Are you fucking with us? Cartman can't take something seriously for that long!."

"Kyle's right," Kenny chimed in, confused and a little skeptical, "Besides, if Eric's been so serious about something that he's soo into, he would've told me by now."

"And 'in' what!?," Kyle remarked.

"Well if you guys actually let me finish speaking I could explain to you guys what's going on!," Butters snapped now tired, making them all go silent.

"Like I was saying, I'm surprised Eric hasn't told you. Because I do believe he takes it seriously, I've been with him during his games before and he looks.. well, seriously about it?," he explained trying to pick the right words to use, looking at the boys who watched him with odd looks, "guys, Eric's been in the South Park roller derby team for three years, and you guys haven't even realized it? I believe even Clyde knows it! Today's a really important game for him, and he's been waiting for it for the past three months."

Kyle felt his world shattered.

Theres no fucking way.

This is bullshit, he's calling bluff right there.

"Fuck you, Butters," He spat bitter, poking him in the chest aggressively, causing the boy to startle, "FUCKYOU, if you're still willing to pull up this type of shit with Cartman! Trying to mess with us this early in the fucking morning!," Butters slapped his finger away from him, glaring.

"Look Kyle, if you don't believe me then that's all on you, jewboy," he barked back mimicking Cartman's nickname on him, making Kyle snarled.

"Okay guys, calm down," Stan placed himself in the middle of the two boys.

If there someone who's capable on getting to Kyle's level was an angry Butters.

"Butters, you don't have like any proof you could show Kyle or something?," Stan inquired, still skeptical himself.

Butters huffed, as he scroll through his phone shoving it harshly to Kyle's face, earning a groaned from the boy.

"If that isn't enough, why don't you scroll through the south park derby page, ask the coach himself or wait? Ask fucking ERIC!," he screeched out, face heated in temper.

"Dude, chill your hawaiian is showing," Kenny tried calming him down, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"I don't like being called a lying snake," He huffed once more, shoving Kenny's hand away.

Kyle scrolled frustrated through the photos Butters had showed them, they were all separated in a folder called 'Eric' pretty much all the folder had were photos and videos where Eric was included in, or taken with. Or stupid selfies the fatass will take in Butters phone.

What he was frustrated about was that seemingly enough, Eric and Butters were in some type of rally, fat boy grinning wide as Butters thumbs up while being taken the picture.

Date: October 28th, two years ago

On another, it was just Eric seemingly stretching his leg out in some booth, having roller skates on, a white helmet and some gym looking clothing as he glared to what it seemed like nothing but in the background they were plenty of people meaning he must've been glaring at someone.

Date: November 15th, one year ago

Then there was another where Cartman stood full picture, revealing his entire outfit; like a uniform with the number 9 plastered in the front, some red shorts too small for his ass and roller skates on, some black ankle and elbow patches, a green helmet in hand with a white stripe as he posed like he was about to run, grinning confidently.

Date: December 1st, one year ago

And another one, he felt himself being hit by an avalanche of rocks each second he look through each photograph.

Cartman looking forward, some other players beside him showing off their backs, it seemed the photo was taken from a far not as far, but far enough to tell he was about to race and Butters was probably just watching from the crowd.

Cartman's t-shirt said 'South Park derby' plastered big in the back part, words adorned around the large 9 with a goofy cow logo.

Date: January 4th, actual year

He shoved the phone back to Butters, as he glared to the ground defeated. The plan was too elaborate for it to be fake, and there were more photos in there than just those he analyzed.

He clenched his fist tight, and gritted his teeth, holding his head high as he saw Butters leave.

"Wow, I guess Cartman is in the roller derby team," Stan finally spoke out after brief seconds of silence.

"Yeah, I suppose so," Kenny then added.

The silence was now unbearable, Kyle kept contemplating what he just learned. Glancing at the bracelet he held around his wrist 'tsk.'

Stan and Kenny awkwardly shared a concerned look to their friend.

"Maybe Cartman was just too embarrassed to admit it to us?," Stan suggested, trying to relieve the tension that was now formed.

"Probably thought we'd ripped on him, which we definitely would had," Kenny agreed, both boys eyeing the redhead who just stood there unresponsive with a nonchalant expression.

"'Embarrassed' but not embarrassed enough to tell Butters?," he finally snapped, turning his fuming glare at them, "Don't you guys feel betrayed?."

"No," Stan admitted nonchalantly," it's really not a big deal dude, it's not like we all don't play a sport ourselves?," he kept on blabbering, "I play football, you play basketball and Kenny plays with pussy."

"Yeah," Kenny nodded.

"You guys don't get it, we've been friends with Cartman for YEARS, dealt with his shit for years and still, he can't even tell us about being on the derby team? It's not like we haven't seen him do more embarrassing shit! Why all of the sudden is he running off discreetly to play some stupid sport!?," by this point he was all spiteful and riled up, "that bastard doesn't treat us like friends! He treats us like- like some lab rats he likes to test with.

I'm tired of his fucking shit!."

Both boys stood listening not daring to say a word, just letting him spit all his anger out, they've learned by now that it's always best to let Kyle vent out all his frustrating opinions before they spoke out their own.

They knew well enough that he wasn't in all finished.

After like a minute they glanced at each other more surprised that he hadn't added anything else than discovering about their fat friend's secret.

"Well, what you want us to do Kyle? It's not like we can do much." Stan commented.

"Y'know what?," Kyle said with a thoughtful face as he tapped his feet contemplating some type of plan, "maybe we should teach Cartman a lesson about 'friendship' and where it leads people when you overtake advantage of it."

Both boys stared at the red head worrisome not knowing the type of shit they had gotten in to.

"Like what?," Stan follow along, still uncertain about it.

"We're gonna go to that rally and make him fucking lose that so precious game he's been craving for so long."

Bewildered the boys looked at Kyle, speechless.

'My god'

"Kyle, I don't think that's a good idea," Stan tried to reason with him.

"Dude, Cartman does this type of shit with us all the time! This is no different," he blurted out, placing his hands on his hips, "Besides, we have reasons!."

"We do?," Kenny added confused.

"Yes. We do," He said sternly, "he makes us deal with his crap all the time, and we just let him step on us everytime he wants? Cartman little derby game is our payback from all the shit he's made us go through as children! Technically, we're not doing anything wrong," he tried justifying his actions as he walked in circles.

"Dude, you sound like Cartman," Stan blurted out baffled.

"¡IDONOTSOUNDLIKECARTMAN,GODDAMMIT!," he screeched out loud causing them to wince.

Kyle has never felt more betrayed than what he's feeling right now, he doesn't know why this has got him so badly. But it became personal.

He really thought he was already figuring out Cartman and the douche bag, again, makes him reconsider everything!

It's like he's doing it on purpose, he sighed scribbling in his notebook, thinking of a plan to sabotage Cartman's game tonight.

Garrison kept blabbering about his upcoming wedding for like the 100th time of that week, they all already wished he got married and get that shit over with.

He looked to his side, glancing at Cartman who was making paper planes alongside Kenny, throwing it to their sides all dramatic and random flying across the room, among the students. Innocently batting their eyes as Garrison scold them.

Well, it didn't seemed Kenny was too affected by being lied by his BEST FRIEND, was he really the only one who cared to complained? He looked at Stan that was flipping through his textbook not caring for the world.

Cartman seemingly looked in a good mood which just added to his wrath.

He huffed as he rested his chin on his hand.

°°°°

"Dude, are you sure about this?," Stan asked as he zipped his jacket covering the vegetal oil they had planned on sneaking in, "what if Cartman actually gets injured?."

"Do you really care if he does?," Kyle asked skeptical, glancing at a couple of people who walked in the stadium.

"Good point," he added as he grabbed his phone and dialed Kenny, "Dude, did you bring it?."

"I'm on my way dudes, I couldn't find the cheapest brand I could afford but I found some cheap brand on wish," he said frantically as he was running while talking on the phone.

"Whatever dude, just don't die on us," Stan meaningless said before hanging up, "I can't believe we're actually doing this."

"This is for the best, Stan. Think about all the things Cartman has done to us, think about the time he's ripped on you, call you names, taunting you because you have a girlfriend and show you not even an ounce of respect," the redhead kept reassuring to his friend.

Stan frowned as he contemplated his words, now nodding assertively, "yeah, you're right. Fuck that fatass! He's never treated me with respect no matter how many times I followed through his stupid shit and called him a friend," He blurted out, a he held his fist high on to his chest, more confident.

"Atta, Stan," Kyle beamed patting his friend in the back, now turning to look at a panting Kenny.

"I-Im herE.." he continued panting as he took out some marbles out of his jacket to show them.

"Okay, cover those, we don't want to get caught," Kyle shove the marbles back inside his jacket.

They went inside, buying a ticket and glancing at the huge crowd. They didn't know roller derby was that a huge deal for people, the place was packed.

They spotted Butters in one the seats there, headed twoards the boy as they sat next to him.

Butters turned their way, "Oh, geez, you guys actually made it? Does that mean Eric already told you about the derby?," he asked casually, as he sipped from his soda.

Kyle smiled forcefully as he nodded, "yup," he lied.

"Cool," Butters beamed as he waved at some random player there, knowingly who that was.

"So when does the game start?," Kenny asked from the forth seat at the end of Stan.

"You mean the jam?," Butters corrected unfazed, chugging on some chicken nuggets, "the first pass still hasn't initiated. They're still waiting for the seats to be full, and it normally just starts at eight it's still six thirty."

They look at each other not knowing well about how that sport worked, they didn't looked deep in to it.

"Okay, so when does second round start?," Stan added, earning a scoffed from the blonde.

"Didn't Eric bother to explain you guys?," He rolled his eyes, sipping loudly on to his soda purposefully making the other three boys annoyed.

"In derby they're not precisely called 'rounds', they're jams that consistent on a timer of 2 minutes, that, or the lead jammer decides to cut it short," He continued to explained to them, as he beamed waving another player in the rank, "we could say the end of the first period will be thirty minutes in during jams, cause they're two periods. A game last sixty minutes you guys."

They blinked in confusion.

"And.. what exactly are jams again?," Stan winced out apologetically, as Butters groaned annoyed and roll his eyes in response.

"What's hard to understand?," Butters exclaimed in disbelief, "first pass; choosing the lead jammer, no points counted. Second pass; the pointer starts and the first jam is started."

"Dude, what's a jammer?," Stan asked still confused.

"And how the hell do we count a point?," Kenny added.

Butters frowned, "you guys didn't talk to Eric did you," he guessed out making the three boys look at him with blank stares.

"Look, Butters, where here. That's all that matters," Kyle chimed in, as he extended his arm around his shoulder making him arched a brow.

"My god. What're you guys planning to do." He immediately pointed out, realizing their motivates.

One of the perks of being around Cartman for so long is to recognize a liar, manipulative, two face bitch a mile away trying to take advantage of his naive behavior. This knowledge is something Butters holds dear on to, as it's gotten him out of many messed up schemes from his peers before, even from Eric himself. Giving him a boost of confidence while contradicting someone is he didn't agree on what they're doing, saying or opinion. He felt a little more freeing knowing he can atleast not take shit from his friends when he didn't feel like doing so unlike with his parents.

"Well good luck with that," Butters hummed out as he heard their improvised plan, "if you guys want to actually sabotage Eric's skates you're gonna need to do it now before the jam starts. Their break is thirty seconds long before a next jam starts and their longest break is a minute long on mid period, so you should guess, Eric has no plans on taking his skates off," he said nonchalant, now gesturing a snack seller to come towards him, purchasing a bag of gummy bears.

He held in front of Kyle, "these are gonna be for Eric cause he's gonna win no matter what," he said in a confident manner, intending to provoke the red head.

Kyle frowned, "just you wait!," He screamed as he stormed off to the benches, Stan following behind.

'Fucking asshole, who does he think he is?'

He kept on walking ignoring his best friend's complaints, as he halted abruptly, the whole damn reason he was here was because of Cartman, and he didn't even bother to even check if he was there at all. But now, holy damn. Now he couldn't just ignore him. He stood far apart near the circuit track chatting with all his teammates next to the penalty box.

'Wow' his eyes widen, bewildered. He's seen Cartman's in his derby uniform in Butters pictures, but the real deal was entirely different.

It felt like his surroundings just stopped moving as Cartman was the only person there that moved in a very slow dramatic way. Everything becoming blank an fuzzy as the only color there that blossom was Cartman.

And no matter how far Cartman was from him, he felt like he was the closest thing there that his eyes couldn't unfocused on.

'Kyle?'

'Kyle, dude!'

"Huh?," he asked now seemingly confused, turning to look at Stan.

"The oil?," He reminded him.

"Right," He blurted out continuing to move, side eyeing Cartman; as he turned his back flipping off some players from the opposite team.

'Oh god'

He stopped again dumbfounded, contemplating how well those shorts complemented his hips and-

'Kyle!'

"Ah?," He asked startled by the abrupt tone, "right!," He reminded himself, as he shook his head running twoards the benches were the players kept their belongings.

They searched through the bags looking for Cartman's, but they couldn't find it.

"Kyle, look!," Stan pointed out, were the coach sat in a empty bench with a bag seemingly not his.

'That's Cartman's,' he felt it.

"I'll distract him, and you sabotage his skates," Stan ordered, shoving him the oil as he approached the coach.

He nodded, as he slowly pulled the bag away as Stan had forced the coach to help by leading him to the bathroom as he had faked puked.

He opened the bag and looked through Cartman's things, he gripped on to the skates beaming relieved that he hadn't put them on yet. He took the oil from his pocket and opened the lid accidentally dropping it inside the bag. He reached out for it and gripped on to a folded piece of paper.

He examined it closely and seemingly enough, it was definitely a very old careless torn off polaroid folded by the middle. He flipped it open, and found four boys popped up posing silly as one flipped off the camera, another beaming mischievous, the other peace signing smiling, and lastly another making a goofy face.

Those four boys were them.

He felt himself contemplating between the bottle of oil or the polaroid photo, feeling himself softened, unsure of what to do.

He gulped, "C'mon, dude, Cartman's coming," Stan said worrisome, as he grasped his arm dragging him away to their seats.

"So? Did you manage to oil them in time?," Stan asked expectantly, sitting down.

He nodded reluctantly knowing damn well he didn't.

The jam was about to start, as the players got in position. For what Butters had told them, Cartman was the pivot, so he placed himself in the pivot line alongside the opposite team's pivot which is infront of the blockers and lastly behind them, the jammers.

A pivot being the one that normally leads the blockers signaling the strategies that will be put to use, also being the only teammate there that could turn into a jammer during a jam.

Apparently the first pass is where they choose for the the lead jammer.

Then second pass is when the score begins to count.

Or something like that for what he understood.

Kyle bit his nails nervously, watching Cartman smirking mockingly the other pivot. The red shorts and white shirt with the added helmet suit him so well it even looked grossly cute.

He rubbed his face with his hands, he wasn't thinking straight, literally.

He rubbed his legs as he heard a whistle blow initiating the first pass.

He digged his nails on his legs, seeing Cartman skate on the rank was extremely..

"Don't worry, dude, we'll get him next time," Stan reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder in a comfort gesture. Probably thinking he looked upset that the 'plan' failed.

'Oh God,' he plead merciful, looking Cartman rolling around the track as he 'booty block' a blocker.

He unintentionally bounced his leg frantically, as he keep watching Cartman making sure the jammer pass through with ease.

"We still have the marbles," Kenny reminded, as he was kinda entertained by the game, stealing Cartman's gummy bears from Butters.

But he was already too far off to listen, seeing how a blocker shoulder bumped Cartman's side as he hip trusted his side in response moving him sideways letting his jammer pass through.

Two whistles were heard as the referee gesture south park's jammer as the lead jammer, the crowd cheered as most there were obviously from the town.

Cartman stretched his back, clapping hands with the jammer in a smugly manner.

He quickly stretched down his hands to his toes as he quickly went back to position.

Kyle mentally saving that small moment savoring every second, his leg bounce some more, unknowingly receiving a concerned stare from Stan.

He felt himself heated, as his legs moved frantically, faster, zoning out by the fuzzy and blurry feeling he felt, breathing heavily as he watched Cartman now on his second pass.

He panted, as he tried grasping for air, Stan turned his way giving him a weird look alongside Butters who heard him squeeze.

'Oh god' he thought as he abruptly stood up, dashing to the bathroom, he excused himself as he pushed some people out of the way.

'Hormones, hormones, hormones, stupid hormones!' He screeched angrily smaking his head consistently, earing weird stares from the people around.

He entered the bathroom turning on the sink and splashing water on his face, cooling himself down. Not daring to look down.

He looked at his flustered face, in horror realization, 'there was no fucking way' he eyed his dilated pupils as he gently caressed the side of his eye.

'No. Way.'

Stan dashed after him, entering the bathroom and kneeling beside him as he found his friend curled up in a ball at the floor corner.

"Kyle, what's wrong?," he asked worried.

Kyle hold on to him as he bawled his eyes out, sobbing uncontrollably by the overwhelming emotions.

Stan was left bewildered as Kyle vomit on him still holding him by the arm.

"Dude, chill the fuck out. Tell me what's going on," Stan said sternly holding on to his shoulders making him look at him in the eye.

Kyle swallowed loudly, denying with his head as he stood up tirelessly, "let's just go.."

Stan reluctantly stood up not furthering questioning his friend as he followed behind him brushing off the vomit out off his jacket.

Stan halted looking at his best friend continued walking off, he went to Cartman's bag as he got out a piece of paper writing down 'we need to talk, meet up at yours after your derby race, fatboy -s,' now no longer caring being caught in the rally or snooping in his stuff.

°°°°

Cartman quickly rolled down town, not caring about ruining his derby skates as he was afraid of possible blackmail by the hippie of all people!

He couldn't even celebrate his victory with the guys by getting pizza, cause he had jolted off like a mad man not being able to enjoy his awsome evening.

He gripped tightly his bag as he got to his side of the sidewalk eyeing Stan sitting in his doorstep.

"What the hell do you want," he pointedly accused, almost slipping down by a small peddle.

Stan stood up looking at the floor with both his hands in his pockets.

"I think Kyle's really affected about you not telling us about being in the South Park derby team," he bluntly admitted, causing Cartman to tilt his head confused.

"Huh?," he said.

"Look, fatass, just.. I think you should talk to him." He frowned, glaring at the floor before glaring at him, "Dude, I'm serious, if you try saying some stupid shit to him I promise you I'll tell everyone about the Jody incident," he threatened.

Cartman flinched, "who told you," he shuddered out.

Stan rolled his eyes, "you weren't really being discreet Cartman it was a public park dude, anyone could've seen you ." He shaked his head dismissively, "look, I don't care if you're gay and shit, I just need you to tell Kyle you didn't mean to hide the derby thing from us."

Cartman spat offended, "he kissed me, dude! Not the way around, I was startled okay!?."

"Yeah, whatever dude. Just talk with Kyle," Stan shrugged off indifferent before walking off.

Cartman grumbled, he couldn't believe Stan had saw the incident with Jody. He really wasn't expecting it! That dude just sent him a letter in his locker and he figured it'd be some chick confessing her overbearing love for him not the ginger kid he manipulated back in forth grade.

He sighed as he tossed his bag at the door before taking off his skates angrily and bitter, tossing them to the ground as he walked barefoot to Kyle's front door.

He knocked unwillingly, as he placed his arms behind his back hearing steps head down stairs.

"¿Yeah-" Kyle's mouth flattened, gripping on to the door frame, "what you want, fatass?."

"You're hippie boyfriend complained to me you were upset over the rally thing, I didn't know you'd figured it out," he shamelessly rat on Stan.

Kyle frowned, "I don't care," he spat out dryly.

Cartman stared at him for brief seconds; he wore a white t-shirt and some black square patterns bottom pj's. His gaze fell on the now naked wrist, Cartman figure Kyle would eventually take the bracelet he gave him but now looking at his wrist, it made him feel a little disappointed.

Kyle awkwardly hid his hand when he noticed.

Standing awkwardly for seconds that felt like minutes.

Things between them have just been so awkward nowadays, and Cartman hated to admit why.

"Okay, cool.." he blurted out looking at the ground then turning around and walking back home.

"Wait," Kyle spat out, now holding on to his arm stopping him.

Cartman cursed inside him for feeling his heart skip a beat.

"What do you want?," he shoved his hand off.

"I think we should just.. talk about it," he admittedly struggled out, wincing his eyes, "someone has to put an end to it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Cartman glared defensively, acting like he didn't know.

"Cut the shit, Cartman. You know, I know," he stated firmly, gripping on to Cartman's shoulders making him look at him, "we should just get it out of our chest and move on."

"I don't know what you're talking? I've moved on, Kahal, but it doesn't seem like you have," Cartman continued lying between teeth, "you're making it weird, our dynamic it's just..flopping? And it's your fault! You broke our rule, kyel," he continued pin blaming Kyle.

Kyle glared at him, "Cartman, were not gonna leave from this spot until we finally discuss it. It's driving me crazy."

"Watch me," he dared trying to leave, but was gripped hard on to his arm earning a '¡owe, Kyel that's hurts!,' "okay, fuck! We'll talk just let me go you asshole!," He whined out in a cry, scowling him as he now let him go, rubbing frantically the injured area.

Things weren't going to turn back to normal. They knew that, it was hard to grasp it. And they've tried so hard to shove it off.

He and Cartman hated change, that was something they both openly agreed on.

Their dynamic has always been like that; they've have some bizarre moment between each other and they shoved it off behind the back of their brains trying to not acknowledge it, trying to not take it seriously. Just getting back to their usual banter ignoring whatever happened between them that shook them off from their usual dynamic. Like a intruder invading a home that was built by scratch and decorated with time and being carefully planned; moving all their stuff and placing them elsewhere, stealing them, breaking them pretty much destroying the property they built for years.

They feared for it to happen again, making new barriers and creating knew strategies to prevent the intruder to make his way back in. Putting up locks and blocking the windows.

Not acknowledging how'd it'd affect them physically and mentally.

Making their little spacious home fell more like a trap, tight, suffocating, imprisoned. Being scared to get out but also craving to get out and breath some air, some freedom.

Screeching for help, as they longer couldn't stand those walls, trying to grasp on the little space they had while it slowly killed them.

They figure it wouldn't be any different now, but they were wrong. They just couldn't, they had went to far pretty much breaking a entire wall out, being in for so long inside the opening freely feeling just being too overwhelming for them to welcomed, handle.

No longer having the energy to just block it, as they were just tired, and the damage was too much to build around it with out destroying it more in the process.

Which they have been doing unintentionally, being so.. out of character, feeling more vulnerable around each other, one being uncontrollably unable to handle his anger and paranoia and the other uncontrollably unable to control his stress and obsessions. The bars were just unbalanced and their personalities were going elsewhere, being mix up with so many feelings they can't just grasp in to it all, having to forcefully grab one an drain it dry inevitable taking all their energy out as they couldn't keep up with the ongoing changing feeling. It felt wrong not being able to control their emotions, it was frustrating not being able to grip on to one, knowing your place and how to act.

It felt so unnatural, and somewhat obsessive being so dependent on each other even when it came to their feelings, characterization and personalities.

Kyle sighed defeated, sitting in the sidewalk, Cartman hesitated before sitting besides him.

Cartman rested his chin in his hand, Kyle half lidded eyes darted to the empty street.

It was time to open up to change.

"So.." Kyle trail off, trying to lighten up the tension between them.

"Kyle, it's clear you don't want to talk about it," Cartman said with a bored face.

"No- I mean I do! It's just.. I don't know were to start," he admitted, looking at the beaming light from the poll from the other sidewalk.

"You mean being some psycho gaywads or about the change of our dynamic?," he guessed, now relaxing his body, shivering lightly as he was already feeling the cold sweep in.

Kyle pouted thoughtful, "honesty? Both," he said, taking out from his sock the bracelet Cartman gave him.

"Seriously? Fucking gross dude," Cartman winced dramatically sticking out his tongue in disgust.

Kyle chuckled unfazed by the comment, "I- I was really angry today cause you didn't tell me about being a south park derby, and somewhat thought I'd be vengeful by throwing my bracelet away, but I just couldn't. I want to have it on me, so I justified myself putting it under my feet for I to continuously stepping on it yet still have it, you get me?."

"Wow, how evil of you," Cartman remarked sarcastic before rolling his eyes feeling a smile crept out his face, "does that mean you've still had it on before today..?" He eyed him expectantly.

"Yeah, dude, I like it. The colors just match well," Kyle nodded admittedly, gently caressing the fabric.

Cartman felt his cheeks heated, flustered embarrassed and slightly flattered, "thanks.." he sighed heavily, "I- I was kinda disappointed you didn't have it on just now," He laughed nervously before playing it off, as he grabbed the bracelet from Kyle's hand and tied it up back on to his wrist.

Kyle let himself smile back by the gesture, letting those feelings invade his now tight fluttered chest.

This felt nice.

"Well now that were being honest here, I was mesmerized by your ass at the derby rally this evening," He shamelessly admitted.

"Woah there, kahal, a little bit too much don't yah think?," he added, a little baffled by Kyle's boldness.

Kyle chuckled, he really enjoyed Cartman's red flustered face. He enjoyed being able to do that.

He leaned forward, "I really liked that kiss," he admitted in a whisper, slyly smirking as he saw Cartman face burning hard red flames, he could swear he even heard a small 'yelp' coming out from his mouth.

Guess the fatass can't find his way to snap back at him, which is a accomplishment on it's own cause Cartman wasn't the one that'll keep his mouth shut always wanting to have the last word into everything even if he had to blabber nonsense to get that.

He squiggle his mouth, moving his eyes fanatically left and right, left, right, left and right again. Kyle cautiously counted each movement, waiting expectantly.

"Me too, jew.." he blurted out after brief swallowing seconds.

"Cool," Kyle nodded, as if he had already knew that.

"About the derby thing, I honestly didn't bothered mentioning it to you guys cause I know the type of assholes you are, not much about.. well it wasn't a you thing," he admitted as he glance the other sidewalk.

Kyle nodded understanding, anger long gone by that point.

"So now what?," Cartman reluctantly asked after another brief seconds of silence.

Kyle shrugged.

They sat for over an hour before being called out by Gerald, who'd ask Kyle to get inside as it was already getting too late. Still not exactly finishing everything they wanted to say but it was enough to bare for the night, Cartman waved goodbye as he left to his home and Kyle stood in his doorstep looking out for Cartman until he saw him get inside his house before reluctantly getting inside himself, contemplating how things unfolded between the two and how good Cartman's gigantic ass looked when he walked off.

Prev — Next

[ktkat99]

Update to this prompt I posted a little while ago. Scroll to the bottom for a link to the story.

Tim gets injured while not wearing his suit one night.

Bernard, who has never met Tim before, finds him and takes him home. He ends up losing his memory and Bernard decides to let him move in while he heals, unaware that he's really Red Robin.

Bruce and the rest of the family can't find Tim anywhere.

Days turn into weeks.

Weeks turn to months.

All without a trace.

Tim and Bernard are getting used to living together, and both the pros and cons of being roommates.

Tim will sometimes have nightmares or flashbacks, but he’s also started to heal.

His family ends up torn, with Jason, Dick, and Steph convinced he’s alive, while Bruce, Cass and Damian have all resigned themselves to believing that he died.

One night, Tim and Bernard take a nighttime walk to a convenience store and witness a robbery.

Tim stops the guy on instinct and has a flashback of fighting with Nightwing. He assumes he was a criminal and runs off before the clerk can thank him.

Something the clerk mentions to Officer Dick Greyson when he arrives to arrest the thief. The clerk hands over the surveillance footage, which ends up being proof that Tim survived.

Dick is overjoyed, but Steph and Jason point out that he isn't being held hostage. He's free and yet never contacted them.

Was he in hiding?

From them?

Or for his own protection from someone?

Or maybe the civilian he was with had done something to him?

Whatever the reason, they decide against telling the rest of the family until they can figure out what's going on.

They begin following Tim, keeping their distances.

Tim, meanwhile, after ‘remembering’ being a criminal, can't stop obsessing over his scars, and who he might have hurt to receive them. He keeps thinking about the convenience store clerk and Bernard, wracked with guilt about all the things he may have done.

Bernard stays by him the whole time, doing his best to calm him down.

Tim doesn't tell him what's on his mind out of fear of being kicked out, and Bernard assumes the event was too stressful for him and doesn't push him to talk.

Eventually, the two of them fall asleep together, and Tim promises to make up for his past crimes by protecting Bernard. Things gradually go back to normal with Bernard going to work and Tim, who has no valid id, staying home and taking care of the apartment.

Nightwing, Red Hood, and Spoiler take turns watching Tim and Bernard.

They still haven't told their family, but know they can't just follow Tim forever.

Before they can decide on their next move, though, Cass bumps into him while grocery shopping. She freezes and he doesn't recognize her, but Dick, Jason, and Steph have to come clean.

Cass is pissed, Bruce wants to bring Tim home immediately, and Damian points out that he might not even want to come home, and that they should leave him be.

They decide that, before they make their decision, they need to talk to Tim. Maybe he really did just decide to quit.

Tim, meanwhile, has been using his free time while Bernard is at work to help people who need it. He becomes somewhat of a neighborhood vigilante, believing that he needs to make up for his past crimes.

Most of the injuries he incurs are minor and easy to hide from Bernard, but one day he takes a knife to the arm.

Bernard freaks out and tries to give him stitches in their kitchen, but then has to convince Tim to let him take him to a hospital.

Tim, not wanting to be arrested for crimes he doesn't remember committing, therefore leaving Bernard alone, argues that he's fine.

It doesn't hurt that bad.

He'll heal.

Bernard gets frustrated and shows off his own scars, which he had worked hard to always keep hidden. He explains what happened to him, and how his family disowned him as a result of ending up in the cult, and that he promises he won't put Tim in a situation where he could be in danger.

He asks to know why Tim is so adamant against going to the hospital and Tim reluctantly admits what he's pieced together from his flashbacks.

Bernard is shocked to find out that he might have been sharing his apartment with a criminal, but reasons that that must be why Tim knows how to fight.

Deciding to focus on the problem at hand, Bernard convinces Tim to at least let him take him to Leslie’s place, as she doesn't ask questions.

Leslie proceeds to ask questions, prompting Bernard to be the one to answer them for Tim.

Leslie comes to the conclusion that Bernard is answering so that Tim doesn't say the wrong thing, and only grows more concerned when she tries to subtly give him openings to slip her a message or some sort of sign that he needs help and he doesn't.

She decides that, since he's acting like he's never met her, she'll play along.

Once Bernard and Tim leave, she calls Bruce and tells him what happened.

Bruce decides it's time to step in because something is clearly wrong with Tim.

Tim and Bernard head back home and have a long talk about everything Tim's been hiding and what he's been up to.

Bernard wonders if Tim might be wrong about his assumption that he was a criminal, but Tim remembers stalking Batman, fighting with Nightwing, Robin trying to kill him and a few other things.

Tim was a criminal, and he's certain of it.

At a loss of what else to do, Bernard convinces Tim to get takeout for dinner, since neither have eaten yet.

Tim agrees and they walk down to Tim's favorite place.

On the way there, Batman and Nightwing show up and order them into the Batmobile.

Tim manages to fight off Nightwing as Batman is driving and Nightwing isn't expecting Tim to fight him and escapes with Bernard.

Their suspicions all appear to be confirmed; the Batfam believe Tim is being controlled by Bernard, while Bernard and Tim believe he's a wanted criminal.

Tim decides he needs to leave, since he's obviously being hunted, but Bernard refuses to let him.

Not alone, at least.

Tim wants Bernard to stay safe, which means away from him, but Bernard is just as worried about Tim's safety. They argue, but ultimately both find an abandoned building to hide in together.

They decide to take turns sleeping and Tim falls asleep wondering what sort of crime he committed to warrant the Bats searching for him. He ends up dreaming of the night he found his father's body and wakes up believing that he killed him.

Bernard has nodded off at this point and Tim needs to clear his head so he heads up to the roof to process what he dreamed about.

The bats decide that, for their safety and his, Tim will need to be taken by force and they can figure out what's wrong with him once they have him back home.

They track them to the abandoned building and break in, but only find Bernard.

Bernard ends up getting captured quickly and taken to the batcave for questioning.

Tim, who witnessed the abduction but hadn't been quick enough in getting down from the roof to do anything, decides it's time to go on the offensive against the bats.

He has had enough flashbacks to piece together that Batman is Bruce.

He's tired.

Angry.

Frustrated.

He's been living for months without knowledge of who he used to be and having to deal with random flashbacks and trying to piece together what his life before looked like.

The bats taking Bernard is his last straw.

He decides to start by breaking into the manor and looking for Bernard there.

Bernard, meanwhile, is desperately trying to convince Bruce and the others that he has no idea where Tim is, that he didn't do anything to Tim, and that Tim has amnesia.

They don't believe him until Tim shows up and goes all-out trying to attack them and escape with Bernard, but Bernard is the one who manages to calm him down and convince him to listen to his family.

It takes a while, and a lot of proof, but Tim finally regains his memory.

He and Bernard officially start dating and move back in together.

They like to joke that Bernard had the craziest introduction to the family, despite being a civilian.

[dovveri]

sun-kissed

bachelorette masterlist - part 1 • part 2 • part 3 • part 5 • part 6 • part 7

synopsis: an unexpected arrest deters filming for day 4 so instead, y/n and sana spend the day together. almost like a date?

warnings: mentions of child pedophilia! suggestive, cursing - i forget to tag that alot bcs its in all my fics but just assume its always there oop

w/c: 5.2k

a/n: okay this took me way longer than it should’ve to write but i think it’s maybe my favourite chapter so far… or maybe i’m soft rn 🤭 enjoy!

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could they have made any less of a scene?

the sirens have stopped but the blue and red lights continue to blaze as you stand in shock with the rest of the contestants while the cops raid the mansion.

sana had been taken away by the producers as soon as the police cars had pulled up.

when they're finally done checking the mansion, they walk out a cuffed wonsik. his head is down, refusing to look at any of you, hands behind his back as he's shoved into the back of the police car.

none of you had a clue what was going on, you were all enjoying the third rose ceremony and nothing could've predicted where this night had led you.

eventually, after the police have long driven away, the producers return with sana who looks a little shaken up. you head towards her immediately, wrapping your arms around her shoulders, but she can't seem to face you, eyes blank as she follows the producers instructions for everyone to come back into the mansion.

"sana? sana?" you're trying to get her attention, shaking her slightly.

she snaps out of it with a blink, looking up at you in confusion, "hm?"

"you okay? kinda lost you back there."

"mm yeah i just- it was just really unexpected."

"what was?"

she nods her head towards the producers who are now standing in front of the leftover contestants preparing to make an announcement.

"okay guys so we only just found this out but wonsik has been arrested on charges of owning child pornography, engaging in pedophilic acts, and sexual assault of a minor. the police have searched the house and confiscated all of his items and any incriminating evidence they could use in court. as you all know, we do conduct background checks on all contestants before they are accepted onto this show, and we apologise that this incident has been overseen. we won't be editing wonsik's arrest out of tonight's episode, but he has obviously been eliminated. we'll take tomorrow off filming to allow you all a small break and please do let us know if you have any concerns moving forward with filming."

what the actual fuck?

as soon as the producers are done with their announcement everyone is talking on top of each other, trying to figure out just what the hell happened and how this happened under everyone's noses.

"did you know?"

"holy shit i never saw that coming out of him-"

"man its always the quiet ones that are the most fucked up-"

you turn to sana in shock, feeling much like how she had looked just a little earlier. "sana?"

she's still a little distracted when she looks at you, "hmm? i'm tired y/n. let's go back home?"

you're nodding quickly, leading her away from the aftermath to the quiet cool of the outside air. you wave down your driver and quickly lead sana inside, stuttering out directions to your villa and sitting back, sneaking a glance at sana who's looking out the window with glazed eyes.

the drive back is silent save for the low hum of the engine. you're a little surprised when sana shuffles closer to you, linking her arm through yours and placing her head on your shoulder, still not saying anything.

you take her hand in yours, interlock your fingers, and lean your head on hers. the rest of the short drive is spent like this, the silence is thoughtful, but not awkward.

even as you arrive back at the house, your hands never leave each other's, you lead her towards your shared bathroom and brush your teeth side by side. only letting go of each other when you both go to start your nighttime skincare routines.

sana has a much more intricate routine than you because of her obsession with all things health-related and her need to take care of her skin well. so you finish earlier than her, mumbling a quick goodnight while she's still bent over the sink and moving past her to retire yourself to bed.

you close all the blinds, intending to have a full night's rest and wake up late tomorrow because filming was cancelled, climbing under your sheets and sighing at the feeling of soft fabric against your skin.

your eyes are slowly drifting shut when your door peeks open, and sana's slipping in, closing the door behind her, shrouding the room in darkness again. she tiptoes to the edge of your bed, lifting the cover and sliding inside, cold feet come to entangle themselves with your legs, shuffling close as you get a whiff of her night serum, the sweet, tangy smell of mandarin subtly descending upon your senses.

"this is okay right?" she's murmuring against you, you're lying face to face, eyes sleepily open while your eyes readjust to the darkness, making out the soft curl of her eyelashes and the perfect slant of her nose.

you hum against her, sliding an arm over her waist and pulling her closer, resting your foreheads together and closing your eyes comfortably.

you think she's drifted off to sleep after a few minutes, but she speaks up in a whisper, barely there, you wouldn't have heard her if you weren't almost lip to lip, "y/n?"

"hm?"

you feel the soft breath of her sigh against your lips, "i... i should've known... he- i could've put him away faster- i gave him a platform- he was on national television and oh y/n, kids the kids he took advantage of could've seen him on tv and thought-" she's slowly panicking the tone of her voice getting shakier as she spirals and allows herself to voice her thoughts out loud for the first time, "-thought that he was in the right that it was okay that there were no consequences and then i kissed him oh my god i kissed him y/n and what kinda message does that send like-"

"sana sana baby shh, shh c'mere-" you're pulling her into you, tucking her head under yours and she starts crying and shuddering, hands twisted at the collar of your shirt.

"i just- like what's worse is i actually liked him-"

"mm no no sweetie stop stop. listen no-one knew what he was okay? it's not your fault you fell for him you can't blame yourself for that. he literally came here with the intention of making you do that you were just another one of his unlucky victims okay? and look, once this gets out on the news he's not going to have that platform anymore okay? in fact he'll probably hate that he came on here because he's going to be even more infamous than if he had stayed anonymous. we can only be real and truthful going forward so that those poor kids are validated in their feelings. he's going to be put away for a long long time now and he's not gonna have the chance to pull any more of that shit okay?"

she's sniffling into your shirt, listening to you talk and soothe her. you continue whispering sweet reassurances into the night, waiting for her to calm down.

she sniffles again, finally looking up at you, eyes red and snot dribbling out of her nose, your heart aches, "can we go out tomorrow? just us, like old times."

you smile at her request, nodding and pressing a gentle kiss onto her forehead, "of course baby. we can go do whatever you want. i promise i'll be yours for the whole day."

she's smiling, thanking you softly and closing her eyes. you wait to hear the her breath slow into quiet even snores before you stop stroking her hair, just holding her against you and closing your own eyes. drifting off to sleep with the adorable mimimimi sound she lets out only when she's exhausted and sleeping well.

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the next morning the both of you wake up around 10am, a comfortable time that allowed you to sleep-in, but not so much that you'd miss out on the entire day.

some producers stop by to check in on sana and go through a small debrief of everything that's happened and what they have left to film in the show.

you can tell she's still a little on edge and wants to get away from everything as fast as possible so you politely ask the producers for time off today and to leave the both of you alone until tomorrow since no filming was happening anyway.

eventually, they're leaving and sana's throwing on casual white pants, a light cardigan on top of a knit button-up, sunnies, grabbing her prada handbag and she's ready to go.

you're lucky you have so many things at your disposal, even multiple cars in the garage to pick from as you grab a random set of keys and click unlock. spotting a white convertible respond with its headlights flashing twice and leading sana towards the car, hopping in. sana's mood has already improved greatly, bubbling with excitement as she lists off some names of a couple restaurants you could try in town for lunch. you smile at her nodding along and humming as you start the engine, pulling out of the garage and onto the valley road, turning on the radio and laughing at the way sana almost jumps out of her seat, neck craning up, eyes closing, letting the wind sprinkled with a hint of sea salt blow through her hair, breathing in a deep breath of satisfaction.

you know you're meant to keep your eyes on the road but it was empty anyway and sana looked so so beautiful. you traced the slope of her nose, down to the curve of her lips as she smiles, the sharp lines of her jaw, and the smooth plane of skin at her neck.

she's peeking an eye open at you, laughing when you realise you've been caught, her giggle high and airy. you loved her so much. and it was getting harder and harder to say that to her without it meaning something a little more.

you're pulling into town soon, she's babbling excitedly and pointing at things that interest her with the curiosity of a child, you're trying to find parking and smoothly drive into an angled spot just in front of the restaurant you had both decided on.

you're jumping out of the car and running to the other side to get her door, and she's giggling and smiling when you take her hand, pressing a sweet kiss to her knuckles, and helping her out of the car.

you enter the bustling shop hand in hand, smiling kindly at the waiter who greets you and ushers you to a table situated next to a large window, allowing a picturesque view into the bay area with a couple fishing boats coming back in after an early morning.

you continue your act of chivalry, pulling out her chair before she sits, and then walking over to take your own seat across from her.

you both glance over the menu enjoying the hum of a busy eatery.

"do you know what you want yet y/n?"

the words on the menu were quickly meshing together, lots of french and seafood terms you wouldn't be able to take a first guess at the meaning of. you pout and shake your head.

she giggles at your antics, "it's okay i'll order for us." she's waving over the same waiter who greeted you at the door, then listing off a few menu items, her french sounding poised and elegant, though you knew she had not-so-secretly spent a year obsessing over french ballet and had even taken up a few lessons herself, only to realise she was much too clumsy to continue it. she had thanked your mutual friend mina for the gracious lessons but resorted to attempting to learn french as an outlet for her obsession.

"-leave out the pickles in everything. and that'll be all thankyou."

your heart picks up a little at the small gesture. you despised anything with pickles in it, and she knew that, making sure you wouldn't have to pick out any of those sickly green slices.

you smile in thanks when the waiter leaves with your order, only to come back quickly afterwards with a bottle of chardonnay which she pours into two elegantly carved wine glasses she's brought along with her.

you raise your eyebrows at sana, questioning the alcohol, but she only sits forward, propping an elbow up on the table and leaning her head into it with a smile.

"day drinking?"

"what? i'll drink yours if you don't want it."

you roll your eyes at her affectionately, taking the glass and sipping, humming at the sweet and tangy bitterness that fills your mouth.

she copies your actions with a beam, setting her glass back down and licking her lips. you follow the action.

"is there anything else specific that you wanted to do today?" you're asking her, taking another sip from your glass.

"mm, not really. i don't mind as long as i'm with you."

"glad to know you're feeling well enough again to flirt."

"oh always with you baby. you're the only one for me."

"that's a bold faced lie and you know it."

she pouts at that, and you can't help yourself, leaning forward and pressing lightly on her bottom lip.

"stop that. put that back in there."

she licks your finger and you hiss, pulling away quickly in mock disgust while she laughs, "please you've made me suck on your fingers and now you're grossed out?"

the waiter decides to come with your first dish at that exact moment, a light dusting of pink on her cheeks when she overhears sana's comment, you don't fare much better when you flare up in embarrassment, hastily wiping your finger on your skirt and babbling out a loud thank you to the waiter.

you glare at sana who's trying her hardest not to laugh, no shame whatsoever, shaking in her seat at the effort of keeping it in, her lips pursed and eyes twinkling.

"you're so going to get it when we get back." you mumble as you stab into a mussel on the plate in front of you.

"awwwwh poor baby's embarrassed, don't worry, mommy will make it better."

your fork drops at the term and you feel yourself going extraordinarily red. she's laughing now, loud and boisterous, drawing the attention of a few onlookers and you throw your napkin at her, whining and slinking back into your chair trying to hide your face.

it's a few seconds after you've folded you arms across your chest and tucked your chin in, willing the heat in your cheeks to go away while staring into your lap, that sana's stopped laughing.

she picks up a mussel with her fork and holds it out to you, leaning forward onto the table again, eyes bright making an 'ahh' sound.

you turn your head, not giving her the satisfaction of paying her attention, but she's persistent, "c'mon y/n. i'm sorry i won't tease anymore i promise."

it's no surprise that you can't resist her, rolling your eyes and opening your mouth, accepting the fleshy piece of seafood and chewing. she's smiling and poking her own piece to put in her mouth, humming at the taste and making sure it was to your liking as well.

the rest of lunch is spent like this, playful and fun, it's good to be able to feel like yourselves again after all the hectic film shooting.

you're standing up to grab the bill after you're both finished when sana shakes her head at you, "i got it already don't worry."

"huh? what do you mean?"

"i told the waiter earlier in french so you wouldn't know. just let me treat this time? i still haven't really been able to thank you for coming along with me for this."

"what? sana this was like... a one hundred dollar meal at least. don't be silly let me pay you back."

she's humming and putting her cardigan back on, standing up and walking in front of you, "pay me back by winning something for me at the arcade?"

you sigh, grumbling along as she giggles at you, taking your hand and leading you out of the restaurant, thanking your waiter who still looks a little off-put by you, and walking down the street to where you had spotted the small arcade earlier.

you purchase a hefty amount of arcade tokens and get straight into all the classics. sana just barely won air hockey against you, jumping and whooping with every goal, you have to take off your jacket midway through the game, sweating as you try and focus on hitting the little puck. you get her back on the dance machines though, you can't keep in the laugh when she somehow ends up sprawled on the floor, limbs tangled and missing every following beat.

you cycle through the arcade, speeding through mario kart and midnight run, shooting with abysmal accuracy at the gun games, trying your hand at some of the more unique japanese arcade games they have (which sana completely destroys you at), and eventually ending up at the wide variety of claw machines.

sana's pulling you towards one with spy x family collectibles, and you furrow your eyebrows in concentration as you try to get the small anya keychain for her.

she's giving you instructions from the side of the machine, trying to give you as much perspective as possible before the time runs out and the claw drops. you wait with baited breath as it grabs the keychain, comes back up with a whir, and then... the keychain falls out at the bump at the top of the machine.

you don't even hesitate when you push in another token, determined to win this one thing.

sana's with you the whole way, her reactions only getting more and more expressive with each loss.

you're probably on your 9th try, the claw grabs onto the keychain, lifts it up, and with a whoop the keychain's falling successfully into the claim box. sana's caterwauling and jumping into your arms and you lift her up in glee, spinning her around once before setting her back down. you bend down to pick up the keychain, presenting it to sana with a flourish, and then she's kissing your cheek and squeezing you against her in a hug, thank yous spilling out of her in rapid succession.

you giggle against her, hugging back, relishing in the contact.

after you exchange your arcade tickets for prizes, you head down towards the docks, stopping for some ice cream before making it to the boardwalk.

there are a few other couples doing the same thing, and when you nod politely to an elderly couple holding hands, you're hit with the abrupt realisation that you and sana must look like a couple right now. unless people were homophobic, then you'd just be a couple of close friends, maybe roommates.

you're suddenly hyperaware of the sweat starting to collect on your palm, releasing her hand and wiping it on your skirt when she looks at you with a cocked head, mid-lick of her ice cream cone, eyes wide.

you switch your own ice cream cone to your other hand so it looks like you had an excuse to let go, avoiding her questioning gaze.

eventually you both decide to sit down at the end of the boardwalk, legs dangling over the edge and looking out across the bay. there weren't any boats currently docked in so you had a clear view of the blue vastness in front of you.

sana's leaning in and looking up at you with puppy dog eyes.

"...what?"

she doesn't speak, her eyes darting down to your own ice cream cone and back up.

you roll your eyes and hold it out for her.

she's grinning and sticking out her tongue to lick a long strip along the side of your cone, humming in satisfaction.

"wanna try mine?"

"i'm okay thanks."

she's pouting and you can't have that so you lean in and lick some of hers, cringing at the overly sweet taste of artificial fairy floss but the smile she gives you afterwards makes up for it.

you both sit back and enjoy the light afternoon breeze, a calming presence after the hectic running around you did at the arcade.

"i missed this." sana speaks up first.

"me too."

"things have been pretty crazy with the house. i'm really glad that you're here with me though."

you turn to her and smile, "i'm glad you let me come."

"of course. the home visits later on are gonna get a little crazy. every season those are always full of drama."

"do you know who you want to end up there yet? your final four?"

she hums, thinking for a little, "still not really. we have... nine- wait no, eight since wonsik's a pedophile. so jacky, eunji, jihyo, momo, jun, jiwon, nayeon, and dae."

"it's a good mix i think. they all have different types of chemistry with you."

you're distracted by a buzz on your phone, taking it out and opening your messages.

miyeon: y/n!!!!! i just saw the news about wonsik! its everywhere rn r u guys okay?

"who's that?" sana's looking at your with a curious lilt in her voice.

you hesitate to respond, knowing how she reacted the last time you and miyeon were together.

"oh just my uncle. he's asking what to get my mum for her birthday later. you'd think he'd know since they're siblings but..." you trail off, typing a quick response back to miyeon.

y/n: it was crazy no one saw it coming! the producers called off filming today.. probably so they can deal with all the legal disputes that'll come up bcs of this

you tuck your phone back into your jacket, ignoring the new messages you get. you could respond to miyeon later. today was meant for you and sana.

sana's sighing and leaning her head on your shoulder, "wish i wore swimmers. it's such nice weather and the water looks soo good."

"we can head back and go for a swim in the pool if you want? we haven't had a chance to use it yet. may as well get the most out of being the main character on this show."

she's up in seconds, grinning, all fatigue gone as she practically prances back towards the car, only turning back to yell at you to hurry up.

you beam at her, running to catch up, laughing and smiling, just the two of you.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

sana's yelping when you cannonball into the deep end of the pool, splashing her with cold water in your wake.

"y/n!!"

you break the surface grinning and laughing, trying to splash more water on her.

"sto- stop! y/n oh my god-"

"hurry uppppppp! it's not cold if you get it over and done with!"

"no! i need to put on sunscreen first!"

"sunscreen? it's 4pm!"

"there are still UV rays at this time! i don't want to die from skin cancer and if you're a good girl you'll get out and let me put sunscreen on you too."

you narrow your eyes at her while she's lathering her legs with the white cream.

you decide to ignore her, diving into the pool and resurfacing a few times, splashing around by yourself while she takes her sweet time. to be honest, you're glad for the coolness the pool offers you, when sana first stepped out in her pale yellow bikini, you had felt your cheeks blush all the way up to the tips of your ears. you'd avoided her gaze quickly, instead opting for racing her outside and jumping in right away.

now that she wasn't watching you though, you couldn't help the way your eyes drifted over to her. she had finished with her legs and was now applying lotion to her arms. you traced the outline of her-

"y/n!"

you startle in the water, and she's looking at you curiously when you make a sort of weird strangled sound and water goes swashing around. "y-yeah?" you clear your throat, hoping you weren't as red as you felt.

"can you help with my back? i can't reach." she's looking at you with a dangerous pout, eyes pleading.

you mumble incoherently as you swim towards the shallow end, stepping out of the pool and grabbing the sunscreen bottle from her, gesturing for her to turn around while she grins at you.

you squirt some of the lotion onto your hand, rubbing it diligently into her back. you knew how much she cared for her skin, and even though you cared significantly less for your own, it mattered to her so you had to make sure you did a good job.

the problem arose when you started reaching her lower back. the pressure you've been applying becomes considerably less when you realise just how close you are to sana's ass. sana's very very attractive ass, only emphasised in these bikini bottoms.

"feeling shy y/n?"

"s-shut up."

"you can do my ass too if you want y'know. it's not like it's anything you haven't felt before."

you can picture the cheeky smirk on her face while you recap the sunscreen bottle after you're finished. and really, you just felt like you had to do something about that so before you know it, a hand's coming down and smacking her, a loud resounding slap followed closely by sana's yelp.

you're jumping back into the pool, trying to push the image of her cheeks rippling in the most perfect way to the very back of your mind.

when you break the surface again with a bubbly laugh she's still standing by the side of the pool, arms crossed and an unimpressed look on her face.

"did you just spank me y/n?"

you stick your tongue out her in defiance, sending a splash of water her way.

"oh you are so dead!" she's jumping in now, and you're scrambling away trying to put as much distance between you two as possible. but she closes in quickly, tackling you underwater and pulling you down so you're both submerged.

you're grinning and then you're laughing, but not in a good way because her fingers are at your sides tickling you and digging into all of the sensitive points in your body she's discovered over the time you've known each other.

you spend the next few minutes trying to one up one another, droplets of water flying everywhere, noisy screeches and laughs sounding out. you're lucky this mansion of a house was situated in the valleys with no neighbours or you most definitely would've gotten a noise complaint.

eventually, you decide to call a truce, cheeks sore from smiling, stomach sore from laughing. you float onto your back, closing your eyes and letting out a loud sigh in comfort. you can feel sana floating next to you, your heads next to each other, hearts beating in tandem.

she’s speaking up after a minute, "cats or dogs?"

you snort, "i don't mind."

you can hear the whine in her voice, "just pick one."

you hum thinking about it for a little, "whatever suits my lifestyle better i guess. if i'm really busy with work or i have to stay home a lot then probably a cat. but if i have a big backyard or something then probably a dog. knowing me though, i'll probably end up with cats. i'm too lazy to keep up with the energy dogs have."

"not with me though right?"

"what? of course not with you. also, you're not a dog sana."

"people say i look like a shiba inu."

"that's not the same thing."

she giggles a little before sighing, "you suit cats. okay. it's decided. we're getting a cat when we go home."

"huh?!"

she's breaking into high-pitched laughter again and you can only find yourself to be slightly concerned over whether she's being serious or not. you could deal with that at a much later date though. you drift back into a comfortable silence, listening to the sounds of the night wildlife slowly wake up in the valleys next to you.

"y/n?"

"hmm?"

"i love you."

your eyes are opening now, heart rate picking up. there's no reason to panic right? she meant it as a friend. a friend. so why was it so hard to say it back to her? as a friend?

instead, you say, "enjoy our date that much minatozaki?"

she doesn't respond with the same teasing tone you're expecting, "i really did." all honest and pure.

you're gulping, "...me too."

you know she's standing when you feel light waves push against your body, so you lift yourself up, looking at her puzzled, but she only goes to stand in front of you, grabbing your arms and wrapping them around her waist.

you let her, squeezing slightly and dropping your head onto her shoulder, your eyes drinking in the pinks and oranges of the sunset.

"you're not gonna say it back?"

you stiffen behind her, "what?"

"you know what."

she's tightening her hold around you even before you try to subconsciously escape.

you let out an almost-laugh breath, "...i love you too sana."

"was that so hard?" she's turning now, pupils dilated when they meet yours, pink lips slightly parted, noses almost touching.

you're shaking your head no, breath caught up in your throat.

a crinkle appears between her eyebrows, you have the urge to smooth it out, "are you lying?"

another shake of your head.

you feel her breath against your lips as she lets out a soft exhale, the tightening of her hands against your forearms helping ground you, if only slightly.

"i hope one day you'll be able to tell me the truth." you're confused, what was she talking about? "for now i guess this is fine." and then she's leaning in and pressing her lips against yours.

its almost an automatic reaction now. your mouth is moving against hers even before your brain registers you're kissing.

she's sweet, she always is. but this kiss is a little different. it's not filled with passion or heat, not like all your previous kisses that have always led to tangled limbs and heavy breaths. it's soft, tender, like she's trying to tell you something with her lips. you just weren't particularly versed in this form of sana communication yet to be able to tell what that was.

when she breaks away, the sun is dipping behind the horizon, her forehead leaned against yours, breaths coming in shorter after the lack of air.

she shivers a little when a cool gust of wind starts up.

"inside?" you ask.

she nods, letting you go, and following you out of the pool to dry off.

the rest of the night, even when you end up sprawled on messy sheets, sweat coating your bodies and arms around each other, your lips still tingle from her kiss in the pool. you fall asleep dreaming of small kittens, ice-cream, and sana.

[aftercamlann]

ACBB 10th Anniversary Recs: Our Destinies Our Own

And our final ACBB rec comes from dvigano10:

Title: Our Destinies Our Own Writer: katherynefromphilly Artist: Lao-Pendragon Ship(s): Merlin/Arthur , past Gwen/Arthur Rating: Explicit Word Count: 94,755

Summary: In the few weeks since Arthur stepped out of Lake Avalon, he's been confronted by perplexing technology, ancient prophecy, and belated epiphany about his true feelings for his manservant turned friend turned sorcerer turned- god help him- lover.

With prophecy fulfilled, Arthur and Merlin now face a new adventure: Finding their place in the modern world.

This is a story of what happens next. After Arthur and Merlin save the world and find each other. Of how an immortal sorcerer and an ancient king learn to move away from the past, and on toward the future, in love and together.

Link: FIC: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15736473/chapters/36588432 | ART: https://lao-pendragon.tumblr.com/post/177628090393/our-destinies-our-own-post-1-post-2-post-3-for

Why dvigano10 recommends this ACBB: this work is the second instalment in the "We Begin Again" series by the same author. I use the entry that the fantastic Kate nominated for ACBB 2018 to highly recommend reading the whole series!

-This comment is about the first part as to not spoil too much-

If you, like me, are a sucker for a "Arthur returns" fic then you absolutely cannot miss this series! There's everything from a refreshingly accurate characterisation of the once and "now" King, to the ups and downs that our two protagonists have to overcome to get to know each other again, and figure out how to start living together again. All of this is peppered with some hilarious situations of a "fish out of water" Arthur, who doesn't know how to orient himself in the present, and a lovely, spunky old gall, who can't explain what happened to the grumpy but dear old man who had become part of village life. We still have a couple of days before we start posting our 2024 ACBBs, so there's still time if you want to sneak in one last ACBB rec from our archive! Feel free to send us your rec through our 10th Anniversary Rec form!

[writing-until-i-drop]

Wildflowers For A Hangman Ch. 20

Summary:

Daisy, a career novelist, moves in with her college best friend Phoenix who has been permanently assigned to Top Gun with Dagger Squad. She finds herself instantly connected with a cocky pilot who's soft only for her and Jake can't help but want to know everything about her. When the past comes knocking at both of their doors, will they stand together or fall apart?

Or: The Dagger Squad can't cook and Jake falls in love with a woman who makes a mean lasagna while they work their personal trauma.

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x writer!femOC | 18+ (eventually) minors dni. Fluff, smut (eventual), idiots in love, past trauma.

A/N: Jake comes clean and Daisy has to talk to Penny

AO3 Link

Previous Chapter

I managed to make it until we were back at my apartment before I broke. Tasha was spending the night at Javy’s place, which meant it was just the two of us and after a  few hours of thinking up the worst possible scenarios for what Jake had to tell me, I was ready to cry, scream, or throw up. Or do all three at once, it was a toss up really.

“I’m going to sit down on the couch and you’re going to tell me what’s going on,” I said, putting my hands on Jake’s shoulder to stop him from kissing me when we walked in the door. “Because I know there’s something you’re not telling me.” Jake sighed, running a hand over his face.

“We’re not breaking up, let’s start with that,” Jake’s voice was tired but serious, his words striking out one of my fears. I nodded, running my hands up and down my pajama pants, trying to ease my anxiety with the familiar feeling of the fuzzy fabric. “Rooster and I might be deployed soon.” The news hit me like a blow to the gut, deployed? What happened over Thanksgiving had been a mission, just a few days apart and that had been hell.

“How long?” I heard myself ask, knees folding into my chest. Jake sat beside me, wrapping me in his arms, chin resting on top of my head.

“I don’t know, Wildflower.” 

“Where?” 

“I don’t know and I couldn’t tell you if I did, it would be classified,” Jake kissed my hair. “I don’t have any details, I don’t even know if it’s happening. It’s all just whispers behind closed doors and rumors at this point, which is why I didn’t want to say anything.” 

“I love you,” It’s all I could think to say. Jake’s thumb brushed over my cheeks and that’s when I realized I was crying, “I love you so much.”

“I know, baby, I love you too,” Jake held me tight. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure.”

“Tell me next time, okay?” 

“I promise, Wildflower. I’m sorry I worried you,” Jake kissed the top of my head, rubbing circles into my back. “I love you so much.” 

My first thought was to run, to get away but the second that crossed my mind, the idea of being without Jake hit me like a truck. I didn’t want to be without him, I couldn’t imagine not having Jake in my life. He had managed to intertwined every part of my life with his, from my writing to his family, we were bound together. Running away now would be running away forever. Right?

“Why don’t we call Penny in the morning?” Jake kissed my hair again, drawing me out of my thoughts. “Maybe we can call mama and pops too.”

“I’d like that,” I nuzzled into his neck, “How long are deployments usually?” Jake sighed, bringing me onto his lap.

“It depends, there’s short deployments of just a few months and then there’s deployments that can last over a year.” A year? My grip on Jake’s waist tightened, “It’s probably not going to be that long, baby but if it is, we’ll figure it out.” After a few minutes of silence that felt like hours, Jake whispered, “You’ll be waiting here when I get back?” 

“Always,” I answered without hesitation. I took Jake’s face in my hands, staring him down even though I still wanted to puke a little bit. Jake’s eyes were intense, his brow creased in worry. “I’m not going anywhere and no matter where you go, you’re coming back home to me. Deal?” 

“Deal.” Jake closed the distance between our lips, kissing me soft and sweet. There was no rushing, it was as if we had all the time in the world, and if we did have all that time, what was a few months apart? He pulled my legs fully around him and stood, never breaking the kiss as he carried me to the bedroom. 

When he laid me back on the bed and stripped me bare, Jake took his time. He covered my body in kisses, worshiping every inch like he was committing it to memory, and when we finished, he pulled me into his chest and held me tight all through the night. 

The next morning I called Penny, who evidently had been waiting to hear from me. I tried to ignore the fact that everyone around me probably already knew about the deployment, especially the fact that Tasha hadn’t said anything. Penny invited me over and Jake dropped me off,

“Call me when you’re ready,” He whispered, kissing my forehead. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, cowboy.” 

Penny greeted me with a hug and a mug of peppermint tea, she looked cozy in her navy pajama set and robe, pulling me into her living room.

“How are you holding up, kiddo?” Penny passed me a cream blanket that was soft.

“First thing I wanted to do was run,” Penny hummed, rubbing my knee. “Now I just feel a little numb.” 

“I thought having grown up with my father’s deployments would have made things easier the first time my ex-husband deployed but it didn’t.” She sipped her tea, staring ahead where a picture of her and Amelia hung on the wall. “I spent the first month crying in bed, almost got fired from my job. Then one of the other wives in his unit, an older woman named Vera, sat me down for a talk.” 

Penny looked the picture of calm as she spoke and I envied her for it. What I didn’t envy was how many years, deployments, and undoubted heartache that it took to cultivate that calm. 

“She first told me that I looked like crap,” I chuckled along with Penny. “Then she told me I was going to join her walking group. Most of the wives in the unit met up every morning and walked a mile around base. If we had news, we shared it, some women talked about how their kids were handling things, we organized what we were sending in care packages, and we traded recipes. Anything to keep ourselves sane.” 

“Are you asking me to join your walking group?” Penny pursed her lips at me, rolling her eyes. “What, you, me, and Ames could totally go for walks on the beach before school.” 

“Good luck dragging that girl out of bed early,” She pushed my knee, laughing. “But seriously, Daisy, one of the best things you can do while he’s gone is stay busy and stay connected with me and with him.”

“How am I supposed to talk to him if I don’t know where he is?” 

“You’ll most likely be able to call him but if you want to send him letters, you’ll give them to command and they’ll send the letters to him when they can.” When they can. That wasn’t very reassuring.

“What else do I need to know?” 

X

I spent the day getting my affairs in order, scheduling a stop on my mail, making sure all my bills were on auto pay, and updating my will and life insurance policies. By the time it was lunch, my head was pounding from all of the tedious details. 

When lunch time came and went without a word from Daisy or Penny, I stopped by the store and picked up a few things for Daisy’s apartment. Bath bombs, new pajamas, a few nice notebooks that she’d probably never write in for fear of “ruining” them. I chuckled to myself, I really did love her and all of her little quirks. If it wasn’t for Daisy’s one-year rule I’d pick her up from Penny’s and take her straight to the court house if she’d let me. 

Deployments had never bothered me before, in fact, I loved them. They meant that I could fly on missions, feeling the adrenaline pumping through my veins as I kept an eye out for enemy bogeys. Now the thought of being away from home for even a few days made my heart hurt. I wanted to go to work in the morning, fly formations with the team, and come home to Daisy at the end of the day. I wanted to fall into bed beside her and tease her when she spent twenty minutes rearranging the blankets so she wouldn’t be hot. 

The deployment hadn’t even started yet and I already wanted it to be over. I said a quick prayer, praying that this deployment would be a short one.

Taglist: @dizzybee03 @littlezee80 @nervousenemyduck @carolina-on-my-mind03 @mizzzpink @beltzboys2015-blog @writingrose @hookslove1592 @closetspngirl @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @closetspngirl @shanimallina87 @owenniasstars @cevansbaby-dove @caitsymichelle13 @bigstrongblackheart @mrsevans90

Next Chapter

[fayes-fics]

It Had To Be You: Chapter 9 - Nobody Else Gave Me A Thrill

Masterpost PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, Modern AU

Summary: You two finally figure it all out on New Year's Eve...

artwork credit @colettebronte

Warnings: none, really… just some swearing and love confessions.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: A multi-chapter modern rom-com retelling of When Harry Met Sally. Here we are; this is the final chapter! Both reader and Benedict finally see the truth. There will be a short, hopefully humourous epilogue to this story as well, which I will post tomorrow. Thanks to @colettebronte for betaing. I hope you have all enjoyed this fic <3

For the next few weeks, the dreary weather, the clocks changing, and the chilly nights drawing in match your sullen mood. Your argument with Benedict at the wedding made you so sad but resolute to try and put it behind you.

It's the last weekend in November when you are buying a Christmas tree that you feel the worst. Making a mess of dragging the tree back to your place alone, leaving a trail of needles behind you, you stop halfway and slump onto a doorstep. Recalling with perfect clarity how you and Benedict had bought one together from the same man the previous year, laughing carefree as you easily carried it between you. Then you drank mulled wine as you haphazardly threw on lights and ornaments, dancing to cheesy Christmas songs. It's what you miss the most—his companionship, the ease of time spent with one of your favourite people.

Just as you are wrestling the tree through your front door, exhausted, sweaty and prickled by a thousand tiny shitty needles that seem to have it out for you, your phone pings with a message.

BB: I'm sorry for how things ended at the wedding. I've been thinking about it for weeks now. Please call me. I want to talk. 

Pride (and your current disastrous had-a-fight-with-a-tree-and-lost appearance) stops you from doing what you genuinely want to—picking up your phone and Facetiming him to sort it all out.

Not ready yet.

__

Two weeks later, it's mid-December, and you are sitting cross-legged on your living room floor with a big glass of wine, wrapping presents for friends, when your phone pings again. For a while now, almost every day, he has been sending links to Insta posts with adorable and hilarious content. Each of which you have enjoyed but couldn't bring yourself to reply to. This time, it’s a message.

BB: If you are available at the moment, please call me.

You stare at the little pop-up notification and take a gulp, a weird weight in your chest at the idea you might cave this time. Perhaps. Once you are done wrapping this gift. A few minutes later, your phone pings again.

BB: Okay, I assume no call means:

BB: (A) you can't take a call right now

BB: (B) you can, but you don't want to talk to me or 

BB: (C) you desperately do want to talk to me but are trapped under something heavy

BB: If it's A or C, please call me back later, doesn't matter what time

BB: Also, if it’s C, please call 999 if you are in danger, then call me after. I don't have any heavy-lifting equipment… 

You can't help but giggle at his gentle, silly humour, attempting to diffuse the tension. A large part of you wants to call; you even have the phone in your hand, but at the last minute, you rest it against your forehead with a sigh, something stopping you. Your stupid rebound fling being the biggest one, Benedict’s cutting remark about how quickly you let someone else into your bed, making your stomach roil. 

Still not ready yet.

—

“Obviously, she doesn't want to speak to me,” Benedict laments, his words muffled into a scatter cushion on Kate and Anthony’s sofa. 

It's the morning after they've returned from honeymoon, three days before Christmas. While they are thankful Benedict popped over with some basics to make breakfast, they could do without his melancholy—they’re much more about a ‘let’s have newlywed sex on the kitchen table’ vibe.

“What do I have to do? Get hit over the head? Be in some calamitous accident?” Benedict whines, twisting his head in aggravation as if trying to burrow himself head-first into the furniture.

‘What do we do?’ Anthony mouths to Kate, who throws her hands up defeatedly.

‘How should I know?’ she mouths back, frowning. ‘He's your brother.’

‘Your friend's fault,’ Anthony shoots back.

Kate crosses her arms and gets a look like a sour lemon, and he instantly regrets that line.

Benedict lifts his head to look up at them, and she has to stifle a giggle behind her hand at the deep red imprint of the cushion zipper on his forehead.

“If she wants to talk to me. She will call me back, right? I'm done with making an idiot of myself….” Benedict claims boldly.

__

You are sitting on the sofa at your childhood home early evening on Christmas Day, almost disgustingly full of Baileys (your mum's tipple of choice on this day) and Christmas pud, watching The Wrong Trousers - a family tradition - when your phone pings with a message.

It's from Benedict and your stomach vaults. You honestly thought after more than a week of silence, he had given up trying. And part of you was so sad. There is no text this time, just a video attachment. You excuse yourself to the downstairs cloakroom, taking a seat on the closed lid of the toilet, intrigued as to what it is.

The video starts with him looking directly into the camera, his handsome face filling the frame and making your stomach swoop again. Fuck, you have missed seeing it.

“Merry Christmas y/n. I hope you are having a nice time. I miss you, and I hate how we left things,” he opens honestly, “and when Bridgertons don't know what to do, we always act stupidly. It's our ‘thing’. So here, You can blame this on my genetics...”

The video cuts to black briefly and then fades into him, a huge 6ft lump, crowded behind a plastic toy piano on the floor, probably one of Daphne’s kids' toys. You instantly giggle at the ridiculous visual as he apes a maestro, closes his eyes as if about to play Chopin, and flexes his hands. Then, the tinny, electric sound of some familiar notes being played hesitantly begins. He isn't exactly a natural pianist.

“Hey, I didn't just meet you, And this is crazy, 

You know my number, So call me maybe,

It's hard to feel right without you, lady

You know my number, so call me, maybe…”

You are instantly laughing. He's such an adorable, charming idiot. Sitting behind a miniature plastic piano and playing, half in earnest, half in jest. At least his voice can hold a semi-decent tune. It brings an affectionate mist to your eyes even as it continues…

“Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

I missed you so bad; I missed you so, so bad

Before you came into my life, I missed you so bad

And you should know that, I miss you now… so, so bad….”

For the last few words, he slows down the song and looks directly down the lens pointedly.

Something in his pleading look is the straw that breaks the camel's back proverbially, and with a slight tremor in your hand, you scroll to his name and hit the FaceTime button before you can think twice about it. The sound of the tone, as it rings, feels so loud, and each crisp ‘bringggg’ makes your nerves jangle. Just as you are about to hang up, the call connects.

“I'm sorry it took me so long to answer. I had to find a private spot.” he sounds a little winded.

“Where are you?” you frown, an unfamiliar background behind him.

“My childhood bedroom. Aubrey Hall.”

“Oh my god! Show me!” You enthuse, your initial equivocation derailed by nosiness, which you decide to frame instead in your mind as mere curiosity.  You never got to see it the wedding weekend for, well, reasons you don't want to dwell on right now.

He quickly flips the camera around, giving you an audio-guided tour of the room he grew up in. Dark blue walls with framed posters for his beloved Blur alongside Travis, Radiohead and Shaun of the Dead. Silly stick-on glow-in-the-dark stars on the high ceiling that are likely too high for anyone to bother getting out a ladder and peeling off. Shelves with little wooden car models he made with his dad before he died, mixed in with certificates of achievement from school, shiny brass archery trophies, and his early sketches in those cheap snap-in frames. And lastly, a collection of jagged small rocks and colourful pebbles. It makes you feel so very affectionate for little teenage Benedict.

“You are bloody adorable!” you blurt out, almost forgetting all the awkwardness from the past few weeks.

The camera flips around, and his lopsided grin fills the screen. “Thank you. I try to make a habit of it…”

You smile back and then sigh. “I’ve missed this,” you confess quietly, wistfully. 

“I’ve missed this too. You. Us. Can we please be friends again? Please? I know we both have a lot of things to talk about. With that night and all… but… can we reset? I need you, Bluey. I am miserable without my best friend,” he pouts, his raw honesty making your chest ache. 

It’s exactly how you feel, too. Except with a massive pang of regret that he seems to want to forget your magical night together. Sex is never like that, at least not for you—electric and addictive. Doing a reset to save your friendship feels like the most logical step. Still, it doesn’t stop the “what if” fantasies running in your head with increasing frequency, especially on a day like today—nostalgia, sentiment and overindulgence swirling in your being. 

“I would like us to be friends again,” you exhale, a lie by slight omission, drumming your fingertips on your cheek nervously to stop you from saying more. 

“Wonderful! Then it is so! I can’t wait to see you again! Are you going to the New Year's party? The one Simon & Daph are hosting at the Sky Terrace? Cos if you are, I was wondering, if you don’t have a date if we could go together? We always said we would be each other's plus one if neither of us is with anyone…”

That he wants to completely reset to that world makes your heart crack. You want to scream at him, ‘No! I want to be your real date! Pick me, for real, this time!’

“I… can’t do that,” you waver, and it comes off sounding tired.

“You have a date?” It’s soft, hesitant, trepidatious.

“No…” you admit, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea to go together like that. I… I can’t be your consolation prize anymore, Benedict,” you blurt out, the hurt taking over your tongue.

The look of stunned surprise on his face makes it worse. As if he had never even seen it from that perspective.

“That’s not what I….” he begins but is interrupted by a loud door bang as it slams into the wall and a yelling voice.

“Stop fucking hiding and get your bloody arse back downstairs. You can’t miss family dinner on Christmas Day!” Colin scolds loudly offscreen.

“I’ve got to go…,” he sighs reluctantly as an arm manhandles him up and off the bed. “Merry Christmas,” he adds, belatedly realising you both forgot to say it earlier on the call.

“Whoever it is, hang up. No one is more important than family on Christmas,” Colin gripes. “That’s it, I’m taking your phone…”.

The screen is filled with random shapes and loud noises as they seem to wrestle like children. And then the call suddenly disconnects. 

You sigh and tip sideways against the cold tile of your parents' cloakroom wall.

Merry Christmas, indeed.

__

Benedict takes stock of his surroundings. December 31st, 11:00pm, lying on his stomach on his sectional chaise, staring up at the big flatscreen on his wall.

This isn't so bad… he tries to convince himself. I've got Jools Holland’s Hootenanny - the only decent New Year's programme, some Glenfiddich and Mini Cheddars - the best snack there is… 

He sighs and realises how pathetic he sounds, even in his own mind, alone in an empty flat.

__

The man whirls you around, and you are almost thrown straight into Kate and Anthony.

“I should never have let you drag me to this,” you grouse so only they can hear.

They both shoot you an apologetic look until you are whipped away again. This man’s dancing style is more akin to a waltzer amusement ride than anything sensual or fun. Your shoulder is already aching. It's a far cry from the surprising salsa Benedict pulled out of the bag last New Year’s Eve. And the idle thought of him has you spiralling…

“Mind if we stop?” you puff as the band finishes the song with a flourish. He’s some slick European investment banking type, and really, you couldn't give two shits about offending him, merely your ingrained politeness kicking in.

He nods and goes off to grab drinks as you stand, hands on hips, trying to gather your breath as you watch all the people moving like a mass of limbs on the crowded dancefloor as the following number begins.

Why the fuck am I here?

__

This is much better… Benedict rationalises to himself as he wanders down the rainy, empty East London streets not far from his Hoxton pad. Who needs to be at a big, crowded party pretending to have a good time?

He pauses outside a trendy shop on Old St, selling overpriced crap that he's not even sure what it is.

See? I can do some window shopping. He tells himself silently—clutching at anything to distract himself from the creeping sense of dread in his gut. A slow twisting knife as he thinks about you dancing the night away, ringing in the New Year with some fancy, handsome man who definitely doesn't deserve you.

What does it matter to me? We are just friends. Best friends… the only friend I ever want to see every day… the only one who truly matters….

He has thought about how to repair the damage between you so much over the last few weeks that he's exhausted himself. Really, he just wants you back. All of you, ideally, but being realistic, any part of yourself you will let back into his life. The suggestion of a reset he made on Christmas Day being his cowardly way out.

—

You are fake laughing at the banker’s story as you lean around the pillar you are backing yourself against in an attempt to secure more personal space. Glad of the heated lamps and the glass overhang to shelter from the drizzle.

“I'm going home,” you growl.

“You’ll never find an Uber,” Kate points out deadpan as you turn back around and keep faking amusement.

__

Just as his thoughts spiral, Benedict hears a chuckle on the other side of the road. There, a couple are laughing together, wrapped in each other's arms, kissing, looking like no one else in the world matters… and it’s like a lightning rod hits him square in the chest.

Suddenly, all he can see are images of you, fluttering like motioned-filled playing cards from above, swirling into his eyeline, then floating onto the glistening pavement around him. Vignettes of his life and where you intersect at so many pivotal moments. The day he left uni - the car ride where you bickered like an old married couple, the day he moved to Paris - your dilated pupils and hitched breath on the Eurostar when he whispered in your ear, the unerring sympathy when you heard about his divorce, the way you held his hand when you wandered after dinner somewhere (he doesn't even recall where… only that it was with you), watching movies together on FaceTime, your incredulity when he confessed to his uneventful recurring sex dream, your surprise and, yes, arousal as he led you in the salsa dance, the way you tucked so neatly into his arms haunting him. And finally, how it felt to be buried inside your gorgeous body as you clung to him, calling his name like a siren song, intimacy like he has never known, the profundity of the connection petrifying the very life out of him. 

But as he stares down at his tatty old Converse, the same ones he wore the day you met, in fact, all he sees in the puddle beneath him is the simple truth he has been in denial about, possibly for a decade or more. Rippling refractions of your face - your knowing smile, bright eyes, your wonderful, happy expression…

And before his brain acknowledges it, his feet are moving….

Walking fast…

Then it’s a jog…

Then it’s a run….

.. his feet carrying him to the one place he knows with every fibre of his being he wants to be.

—

You wander as if in a daze, seemingly surrounded by nothing but couples, kissing, dancing, whispering, and it's the final straw. You spy Kate and Anthony sipping champagne together and slope over.

“I'm going,” you sigh.

“But it's almost midnight,” Anthony protests.

“Being surrounded by people kissing is just…” you shrug, melancholy creeping in like a clingy fog around your heart.

“I’ll kiss you,” Kate placates, and Anthony perks up to no end at that suggestion, nodding enthusiastically as you both roll your eyes, bemused. “Stay? Please?” she pleads, pouting and grabbing your hands.

“Thanks, Kate. But no. I have to go. Have a wonderful night,” you bid them, kissing her gently on the cheek. “Happy New Year,” you whisper as she returns the greeting.

__

Benedict's lungs are burning as he races down Old St towards Shoreditch, not far from where you celebrated last year. He ignores the ache in his muscles and keeps going, checking his watch to see 11:56pm and racing harder.

I need to be there at midnight!

__

As you walk to pick up your coat, a sight makes your heart leap into your mouth and stops you dead in your tracks.

There, rounding the top stair, casual in old faded jeans, those ancient Converse and a chunky knit jumper… is Benedict. Hair fluffy and dishevelled from the rain, out of breath and scanning the crowd desperately. As if he is seeking someone.

Then his eyes finally land on you, and your world tilts. 

Oh god, is he here… for… me?!?

Then he is striding purposefully towards you, and it seems like the crowds part. His eyes blisteringly intense, like they were on that fateful night. You try to school your face, aiming for casual indignance; you probably fail spectacularly— your heart thumping wildly.

“I've been doing a lot of thinking…” he begins as he pulls up before you. “And the thing is… I love you..”

Everything grinds to a halt, and your head feels dizzy.

This must be a prank, surely?

“What?” you stutter, disbelief rocking your core.

“I love you,” he says with a simple shrug as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ben.. I… what do you expect me to say?” you blurt out, floored.

“How about you love me too,” he smiles a tiny fraction, and you hate it.

You hate how RIGHT he is. Your body is a total jumble of live wires, but your mind is suddenly calm. It's like the clouds of your thoughts part, and it all seems crystal clear. And yet, something in your stubborn heart won't let you admit it. Terrified what it could mean to voice it.

“Look, Ben, I know it's New Year, and I know you may be lonely tonight. But please don't do this,” you implore haltingly, tears prickling hot in the corners of your eyes, “...not like this,” you whisper, defeated.

“Okay, how about like this….” he throws his hands up. “I love that you won't admit you love me. I love that you are looking at me like you want to kill me right now. I love that my body is screaming at me cos I ran here as fast as I could.” he gestures down at his slightly shaky legs.

“Ten seconds to New Year's!!” a loud voice blares out over the speakers.

“TEN!!” the crowd chants.

“I love that we are idiots who would never admit to how in love we are.”

“NINE!”

“I love that you are my blue lobster, rare and beautiful as a diamond but a delicious soft treat under that hard as nails shell….” 

“EIGHT!”

He tilts your chin to look up at him, a thumb swiping a tear you didn't even know had escaped. 

“SEVEN!”

“Don't leave me out here in the wind, y/n…,” he murmurs softly.

“SIX!”

“I… I love that you never give up,” you whisper so quietly even you can barely hear it. 

The smile that lights up Benedict’s face makes your whole being feel like the stars live inside your chest.

“FIVE!”

“I love that you take homemade salads on a road trip,” he smirks playfully, referring to the first day you spent together all those years ago.

“FOUR!” 

“I love that you kept your amazing dance prowess under wraps,” you laugh over a stilted snuffle, everything in you fizzling.

“THREE!”

“I love that I can still smell you on my clothes after we spend the day together,” he sighs, moving in closer, your eyes hypnotised by the movement of his cupid’s bow.

“TWO!”

“I love that you came here tonight,” you admit, your hands circling his forearms as you sway slightly in unison.

“ONE!”

“I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night,” he confesses, his lips ghosting over yours now, smiling crookedly even as he speaks.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!” the crowd chants.

All around you, party poppers go off, colourful ribbons of streamers, and the sound of glasses clinking fills the air. But it’s background noise, your whole focus on each other.

Finally, your lips meet, the fireworks under your ribs matching those in the skies above, the same as it was that first time weeks ago. You melt into each other's embrace, your kiss a seal of a pact and the promise of something new and infinite.

“For the record,” he rumbles, his minty breath hot on your lips, the strains of Auld Lang Syne ringing around the rooftop. “I'm not saying this because I’m lonely and not because it’s the New Year. I came here tonight because when you finally realise you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start…”

“...as soon as possible,” you exhale, completing his sentence with him as he nods, grinning from ear to ear. 

The drunken chorus around you gets louder; he chuckles and shakes his head. “I’ve never understood this stupid song.”

“I think it’s about remembering not to forget. Or not forgetting to remember. Or something,” you peal a laugh, knowing you are talking gibberish and not giving a damn. “Anyway, it’s about old friends,” you add pointedly, moving in for another spine-tingling, heart-melting kiss.

As you part, he cradles your jaw in his hands. “It was only ever you, y/n,” he sighs, hazy eyes burning into yours, his whisper fervent but contented into your skin. “It had to be you.”

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @angels17324 @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies

[siriusleee]

a better year

a/n: i linked this one to ao3 a week or so ago, but i figured i'd do it now i'm procrastinating the next chapter to adamantine chains lmao this is my take on the bookstore au tags: mentions of sex but nothing explicit, cursing, signs of ptsd, , original female character, retirement from the military, bookstore au 6.7k words summary: He takes her shoes off of her while she insists she can do that herself. He slips the right one off when the fireworks go off outside; the entire town is bathed in their light. "Midnight," she says as Simon rises up on one knee in front of her, ready to tell her goodbye and good night. She kisses him over the mask. She doesn't mention it the next day.

The official order rolled in on plain white paper, an unceremonious carrier of his future. He was the first to go: a sign that the team was being unraveled slowly. After all, they're not young men anymore. 

"You'll receive your pension; it's enough that you shouldn't have to work again. And we've made sure that you have an official background. It's not much, but it's what we can do."

Laswell doesn't move her eyes from his, her fingers clutching a pen so hard her knuckles are white. 

"It's for the best Simon," she says, setting the pen down carefully on her desk, "and if it makes you feel better: everyone will be released soon. I'm sorry."

He's not dumb; he knows these things only last so long. Forced retirement is something to be celebrated - celebrated that he lived long enough to have one, celebrated that his body isn't rotting in some foreign country, a home for worms. Celebrated that the 141 made it out mostly intact. Mostly together. 

Johnny claps him on the back and promises that when Laswell brings him that paper when Johnny gets his own forced retirement, he'll come to find Simon. 

Simon doesn't stay in England - he doesn't like the way the gray settles around him. He leaves the apartment Laswell set up for him untouched, a note for Johnny for where to find him. 

He finds a small house to rent somewhere in the American Southwest, spitting distance of Alejandro's territory. It crosses his mind more than once to make the trip across the border, to see how Alejandro's doing; to see if Rudy is still scared of fantasmas . 

But he isn't a fantasma anymore; he's just Simon Riley.

And it's just Simon Riley who paces the aisles of her bookstore, trying to find something to take his mind off of the fact that he is utterly and completely bored. 

"This is the third time you've been here this month. I'm not putting you into debt am I?"

Her accent is different from everyone else's in town - still decidedly American, just not from here American. Simon ignores her, his eyes focused on the row of books in front of him. She sighs heavily, but drops it, leaving him behind to stock the end cap. Last week's murder mysteries replaced by this week's contemporary romances. 

"I need to lock up you know - I can't stay here all night." She speaks as if it's not odd that Simon only comes in on Thursday nights - the only night of the week she stays open late to rearrange the end cap displays, to vacuum the floors to perfection. 

"You haven't even cleaned the windows yet," Simon replies, pulling a fantasy book from the shelf: something about a world full of malicious fairies and a secret world beneath New York. It's something new. 

"For your information, I did that before you got here," she says, pushing herself up from the floor with a groan. "And I have a life. I can't sit here all night and wait for you to pick a random book off the shelf."

"I never said you didn't."

Simon places the book as she dips behind the counter, a lukewarm cup of coffee left beside the cash register. She drinks from it, wincing at the taste as she rings the book up.

"That'll be seventeen forty-five."

Simon gives her a twenty and she breaks the change, counting out how many pennies he's supposed to have on her fingers. 

"You going to be back next week?"

"Why?"

"I want to close early next Thursday; I need to know if my best customer is going to be here or not."

Simon doesn't speak as he takes the plastic bag from her hands. She waits for him, eyes never leaving his as she sips her coffee, waiting on him to answer. 

"I can come by Friday instead."

"I'm closed Fridays."

"What about Wednesday?"

"I can stay late Wednesday."

He leaves her with just a crinkle of the plastic bag and the chime above the door.

***

He spends too much time at the gym ignoring Johnny's text messages. Johnny tells him Price was next - swearing that he was going to retire to the countryside where he can smoke his cigars in peace. Maybe find himself a nice girl to cook him dinner every now and then.

His fingers hover over the buttons, almost messaging Price to tell him congratulations. But Simon's not sure it really is. 

He's alone at night; no one's in the gym at two in the morning. No one's there to watch the way he slams the weights down when he's done or hear the way he gasps for breath after lifting too heavy - the tear in his chest that never quite healed right burning him from the inside. 

The walk home is quick; the stars shine brighter than anything he'd ever seen in England. The closest he ever got to seeing them like this was in the Middle East, but he hardly noticed the stars then. He wasn't expecting to be left looking up.

He sits in the shower at home. He can't stand the way the water hits his skin, but can't stand the idea of sitting in the water either. So he stays huddled in the corner of the bathtub, the water barely touching him. 

Simon Riley thinks about death. 

He thinks about what would happen if he died right now. 

He thinks about what it's like to die twice. 

***

The door is locked when he comes by Wednesday; he feels foolish standing there with his hand still pulling on the door, knowing it won't open beneath his touch. Foolish to think that she would-

Foolish when his heart ticks a beat as she comes around the corner. Foolish when he steps inside just a second after she unlocks the door.

"Sorry, my last employee must have locked the door on their way out. So did you like last week's book?"

"It was alright."

The silence is almost awkward as she locks the door behind him.

"Let me know when you're ready. I just made coffee in that pot behind the counter; you can have some if you want. I shouldn't drink it all myself."

She leaves him behind to disappear into the store room. He paces the aisles aimlessly, waiting for something to jump out at him. It's quiet tonight; the music that's usually playing softly over the speakers is absent. Simon can hear her through the storeroom wall moving boxes around, the sound of a box cutter piercing the quiet every so often. 

She reappears, a box in her arms that she drops heavily onto the counter. Simon watches her over the bookshelf of non-fiction works as she pulls each book out, scans it into the computer, and stacks them on the counter 

When the box is empty, she breaks it down and leaves it on the counter. She looks up, almost catching Simon staring at her. He ducks away, taking a book on the Korean War with him. At the counter, she can barely see him over the stack of books in front of her. 

"Last week was fantasy and this week is the Korean War? You certainly have varied tastes."

Simon hands over the fifteen twenty-two he owes her, her hands linger in the distance between them. 

"Do you have a job?"

"What?"

Simon's taken aback at her candor. I used to have a job he thinks, as he pockets his change. 

"No, I don't."

"Do you want one? I need a weekend worker. It's just me on Saturdays and Sundays now my other guy quit to go to college. I can't pay you a ton, but I kind of get the feeling you don't need it."

He falters for a moment; that's all it takes. If he's being honest with himself, he misses taking orders, missing feeling useful to someone.

"I can do that." 

"Can you start this Saturday?"

"I can do that."

She's locked the door behind him before he realizes they don't even know each other's names. 

***

Her name's Billy.

"What's your name; I probably should have asked that before I hired you."

Simon doesn't answer, placing the box down slowly before he answers. It's odd, telling someone his name. His real name. 

"It's Simon. Simon Riley."

She looks him over, elbows resting on the counter. 

"What?"' He asks, uncomfortable under her x-ray analysis of him.

"Just didn't peg you for a Simon. You know with your general countenance; the mask and all that."

She doesn't ask why he has the mask on. Simon gets the feeling that she never will. 

She works him like a dog; he's moving some of the shelves around when he thinks that this is probably the reason her last employee quit. It's like being ordered around by Price again, but this time his enemy is the dust. He doesn't stop moving until well after noon; sweat gathering in the small of his back. In her office, Billy is on the phone, yelling indistinctly at the person on the other line.

He doesn't have to watch her to know she's angry when she slams the phone down. He expects her to storm out of her office, to slam the door shut behind her. But she doesn't. When she comes out she's calm.

On Sunday she shows him how the books are organized, and she has him switch around the genres.

"Romance sells best during the spring, and mystery best in the fall and winter. So we need to pull the mystery books up to this front aisle and move the romance towards the back. These shelves roll so they're easier to move."

She's meticulous; Simon moves the same shelf four times before it's lined up exactly where she wants it. His constellation prize: cash wages handed to him at the end of the day.

"No paycheck?"

Her nails tap against the counter, the white paint chipped.

"I haven't processed your paperwork yet. I can take the money back if you want."

Simon pockets it.

They lock up together. It's warm outside, but she still tugs a hoodie over herself whenever she finishes, tucking her keys into the pocket.

It's a complete coincidence that they set off in the same direction. 

Simon wants a cigarette; his fingers itch for the pack in his pocket. But she'd said earlier in the day that the smell was disgusting and she couldn't breathe whenever someone with cigarette smoke on them passed her by.

They split up two blocks away from the bookstore. She motions up to the upstairs apartment of a shitty duplex. It's not the kind of place he expected her to be in.

"This is me. I'll see you next Saturday right?"

"I'll be there."

"Good night Simon."

She doesn't wait for him to say anything; not that he would have known what to say. She's up the stairs and inside (she didn't unlock the door; he has to restrain himself from going upstairs to tell her to lock it next time) before he can think of anything to say.

He smokes a cigarette at the bottom of her stairs; watches the outline of her against the curtains in her window. A fat black cat peers down at him, peers down at the cherry of Simon's cigarette in the darkness. The street lamp is burnt out, the shadows dark. He stubs the cigarette out on the sole of his boot and throws the cigarette butt out in the street. 

He's almost certain she'd chide him for that - the same way she did a kid who had the audacity to throw a cigarette down in front of her shop. 

His apartment is extra cold when he gets home.

***

"Maybe Price has it right: a life in the countryside. A pretty girl to cook you a few meals. Maybe a dog to curl up at your feet," Johnny drones on the other end of the line. Simon doesn't answer, his focus on cutting the potatoes in front of him into meticulous cubes. Johnny doesn't need him to speak. 

"What about you L.T.? What have you been up to?"

"I'm not a lieutenant anymore Johnny."

"You'll always be L.T. to me. And don't ignore the question."

Simon drops the potatoes into a pot, waiting on the answer to unstick from the back of his throat.

"Not much. I go to the gym a lot."

He doesn't tell Johnny how he has to break his gun down and put it back together three times each night before he can sleep.

"That it?"

"I'm working at a bookstore."

"A bookstore! A few months out and you're domesticated."

"Watch it, Johnny."

A pause.

"I have to go L.T.. Gaz is yelling at me."

Their goodbye is the silence that follows. 

***

Billy's arguing with a customer when he arrives Saturday morning.

"Listen, dude, I don't care what price you want to pay. This is my business and I set the prices. If you don't like it, you're not being forced to come here."

The customer drops it when Simon steps behind the counter. 

"I hate that guy," Billy tells him as she hands him a box cutter. "He comes in every week and tries to get me to lower my prices. It's a bookstore; I'm not getting rich off of this. I can't afford that. Anyway-" 

She sweeps her hair behind her shoulders. Simon catches a hint of a tattoo behind her right ear and a glint of cold chain disappearing beneath her shirt.

"Finals are coming up for the local community college so I had two different study groups book the tables in here today. They're usually pretty good, we just have to make sure to keep the coffee pot refilled for them because they'll drink it dry. It's $5 if they want coffee - per person don't let them try to swindle us - but they can refill it as much as they want."

Her fingers tap against the counter. Her nails are blue this week.

"If they ask about selling us their textbooks, tell them to come back next week. I have a shipment of children's books coming in - you can sign for it if I'm busy. Do I need to show you how to use the cash register or can you figure it out?"

"I can figure it out."

"Ok. The code is 4532. For now, do you mind breaking down the boxes in the back room and taking them to the dumpster? It's hard for me to reach to open up the dumpster lid."

She doesn't wait for him to answer before she disappears into the back room.

This Saturday is busy. 

Simon's about to snap at a kid who won't shut up about how the comic section is too small when Billy appears beside him. 

"I'll take over here Simon. There's lunch in the back room."

He's thankful for her in that moment.

He's more thankful when the storeroom shuts behind him and locks. The table has a small bag with his name written on it. A sandwich from the deli across the street and a bottle of water inside.

There are no tomatoes on the sandwich.

Just like he always orders it.

***

He smokes a cigarette again outside her apartment. But this time he tucks the butt back into the pack. He'll throw it away at home.

***

"I want to put a coffee shop in here," Billy tells him when the store is slow. She traces the right side of the store with her fingers.

"And I want to open the shop up earlier and stay open later."

"Why don't you?" Simon asks without looking up from his task of the day: putting 'half-priced' stickers on books that aren't selling well.

"I'm not making enough money. I have just enough to pay you and my weekday employee and the overhead cost of this place, plus pay myself. There's not any extra coming in. The bank-," she pauses, red nails scraping at a piece of tape on the counter, "the bank is willing to give me a loan on the coffee shop stuff - the machines and all that - but I don't have the money for the renovations. My contractor told me he'd have to build the cabinets, open up the drywall and put an extension on our water pipe. A water filter needs to be installed. It's just - it's just a lot."

She slides the stack of books he's already put stickers on off of the counter and into her arms.

"Maybe next year."

***

The next time Johnny calls, Simon can hear the strain in his voice. 

"It's my turn L.T.. Laswell said I failed the psychological and I can't stay."

"You going to keep good on your promise to come to be my annoying neighbor Johnny."

"Not yet. I want to go home to my mom for a little bit. Maybe next year L.T.."

"Next year's going to be a big year I guess," Simon says more to himself. 

"What's that L.T.?"

"Nothing Johnny. We should be happy we made it out."

Simon knows Johnny's not happy: not happy he never received the rank he wanted, not happy he has to go back home and take care of his mom again.

"You're right L.T.. I'll call you again when I'm home. How's the bookstore thing?"

"It's going alright. Bye, Johnny."

"Bye."

In the silence after the call, Simon thinks he should get a cat. Something to make the apartment less quiet; something to give him purpose when he's there.

Something that won't crawl all over him at the end of the day.

***

He needs something to do with his hands.

That's what he tells Billy when she arrives at the store on Saturday morning and Simon's ripping up a portion of the carpet, a stack of flooring waiting to be installed.

"So you have to do it when I'll have customers here?"

"Tell them it's a new addition; they'll be alright."

"I'm not paying you extra for this."

"I didn't ask you to."

Billy looks at him, one foot tapping a sharp staccato muffled by the carpet. 

"Fine."

She pauses for a moment, Simon's knife running down the carpet to separate it from the floor beneath. She picks up one of the pieces of flooring, turning it over in her hand.

"What is this?"

"It's vinyl. It's waterproof in case you spill something."

Billy drops the plank back onto the stack and leaves to unlock the front door.

Simon revels in the way his shoulders burn at the work, the way the rough concrete scratches his knuckles once everything is pulled off the floor and he has to start laying down the underflooring. He revels in the way his back cramps as he's bent over.

In the way he feels useful.

It takes him all day to get half the flooring down.

Billy doesn't speak to him about it, doesn't ask where he got the money from, or why he's suddenly doing free renovations on the place. 

Simon knows she appreciates it by the way she drops down his lunch - no tomatoes, just a water to drink- beside him without expecting a thank you. By the way, she chides the little kids who come over to ask him a million and one questions, he doesn't know how to answer and brushes them away from him. 

She catches him smoking in the back alley on his break. She's polite enough to turn back when she realizes he has his mask down and keeps her back turned to him.

"That shit's going to kill you."

"It can only hope." 

Simon can tell she's giving him a withering look at him from her position half inside the doorway.

"If you come in smelling like that cancerous poison I'm not going to talk to you for the rest of the day."

He must smell because she doesn't speak to him for the rest of the day, not even saying goodbye when they depart at her apartment.

Simon hides the cigarettes in a drawer when he gets home.

***

It's Price that reaches out to him first, a quick phone call, a holdover from their days in the field.

"Are you holding up?"

Not "how are you holding up?", but "are you holding up?" The difference between three letters is so vast Simon doesn't know how to cross it.

"I'm doing fine."

"Johnny told me you've got a job?"

"Just something to keep me occupied."

"Is that all you've got?"

"What more do I need?"

The receiver is filled with the sound of Price inhaling a cigar; Simon can almost smell him through the receiver.

"You're not Ghost anymore Simon. It takes more than that to survive this."

Survive this . As if this is the most dangerous mission Simon's ever been on as if being forcibly retired has some sort of great mortality rate. 

"Understood."

He listens to Price's dial tone for five minutes before he hangs up.

Maybe it does.

***

He paces the town at night. Once the gym doesn't become enough to wear him out, doesn't help his brain relax, he walks the streets. 

He thinks more than once that someone is going to call the cops on him and report him for being suspicious. 

But Simon Riley isn't Ghost anymore. Simon Riley is someone not worth noticing. 

It's almost surprising how well the little town sleeps with the remnants of Ghost stalking through it; how now one seems to have any idea of what he was once - and still is - capable of.

He steals a lot of time sitting on people's steps, on the stoops of little houses, picking the petals off of the flowers in big pots, and lining up the shoes and toys that were left disarrayed in the chaos of the daytime. He wonders if someone is going to catch him on their security camera and name him the town freak, but no one does.

He keeps up at it enough that he can feel the shift in the air, feel winter creeping in. He notices it in the way more and more boots are left outside, by the plants with plastic coverings over them, protecting them.

He finds himself, more often than not, taking the long way around to stop at the bottom stairs of Billy's apartment. Most nights the lights are off, and the window open. He wants to tell her to stop doing that, to lock the window, but he doesn't know how to say it without giving away his nights. So instead he keeps watch, hands buried in his pockets as he counts the moths in the streetlights. 

Sometimes though the lights are on and he can hear the sound of her house through the open window. Sometimes the cat peers down at him as if prepared to leap through the window screen at him - sometimes she grabs the cat, never looking down at Simon; more often than not the cat curls up in the windowsill without budging. 

A few times he could hear her talking to someone, the conversation muffled from above. He wondered about who she could be talking to so late at night. Why she was up in the middle of the night to talk to someone? 

He makes his way home as the town starts to wake up.

***

He moves once - to a tiny house in the middle of town, just enough to have a yard big enough to cross in two strides.

He tells Johnny it's because he was tired of the noises of the neighbors. 

He tells Johnny it's because he's taken up woodworking and needs a spot for the tools.

"What are you building you old bastard?"

"Some cabinets."

"For what?"

"Mind your own business, Johnny."

It takes weeks to get them perfect. Eventually, though, they're good enough to put in the back of a rented truck. 

He does it on a Friday when no one is around. He tells himself that it's easier that way, no one walking underfoot. 

That night he lets himself admit - just for a moment as he sits on the shower floor - that he didn't want to see her face if she's disappointed by it.

***

She refuses to open the door for him the next day, opting to yell at him through the glass instead.

"You cannot keep making renovations to my store without asking me!"

"It's no big deal; open the door."

"No big deal: you put a floor down, you handbuild cabinets, and you broke into my store to install them!"

"You gave me a key."

"Not for that!"

It's a stalemate: Simon poised with his hand on the door handle, her hands tucked into the pocket of her jacket.

"I still have to do the plumbing."

She massages her eyes before leaning forward to turn the lock. Simon steps inside with the biting wind.

"You're fucking irritating, Simon Riley."

I know .

She makes him put up the Christmas tree - a fucking monstrosity that takes up the entire front window. It takes him all day to get the decorations to her standard; her yelling through the store at him to move something incrementally to the left or right.

Billy leans on the counter, shuffling through official-looking papers and refusing to look at Simon when he's finished.

"Thanks to you," she says, never looking up at him, "I have to start getting the paperwork processed to be able to serve food and drinks here."

"Is it difficult?"

"It's not easy."

Their conversation pauses just long enough for her to check out a customer. She turns back to Simon as soon as the door shuts.

"Why are you doing all this Simon?"

He doesn't answer, and he realizes as he stands there, hands folded behind his back and spine rigid that he needs to tell her something, but all he notices is the black ink mark on her cheek. She doesn't pressure him to answer, but she doesn't let her eyes leave him.

Simon breaks first, eyes cast down to the floor.

"Ok," Billy whispers under her breath, "you don't have to answer, but just let me know when you're going to do something else. Can you text me next time before you start?"

"I don't have your number."

She doesn't ask for his phone, instead, she tears a corner of a piece of paper off and scribbles her number on it. Her hands don't shake when she holds the paper out to Simon, but his shake when he takes it. Simon can tell Billy notices. He stuffs the paper into his pocket, pushing it past his keys and his phone. 

"Hey, Simon," Billy chews on her lip.

"What?"

"Are you busy tomorrow night?"

***

Johnny's chatting his ear off, Simon's barely paying attention to him as he stares at the shirts thrown out on his bed.

"- L.T.? Simon?"

"What? Johnny, what?"

"Are you even listening?"

"No, Johnny. I'm not."

The static of Johnny's disapproval.

"What could be distracting you from my wonderful conversation?"

"I'm busy Johnny."

"With what?"

"Nothing Johnny. I just have somewhere to be later - I'm trying to get ready for dinner."

"Dinner? Like with someone else?"

Simon hangs up on him.

***

Simon wants to pretend that he doesn't have the path to her house memorized; doesn't have each step calculated to know when exactly to stand on the bottom step at 6:59 so that he can knock on her door right at 7. But he does, so he hovers on the bottom step for an extra minute.

She doesn't answer when he knocks; she yells through the door for him to come in. In his pocket his phone buzzes every few seconds, Johnny sends another message insisting that Simon tell him who he's eating dinner with. Simon thinks for a moment about blocking his number for the night.

Billy smiles at him from behind the counter, elbow-deep in bread dough. All at once, Simon feels overdressed taking in the large shirt covered in flour Billy's wearing. 

"Hey. Sorry, dinner's going to be like 30 minutes later than I said. I couldn't get this shit to rise properly for like an hour."

"It's alright."

Billy must sense his apprehension because she jerks her head at a chair pulled up to the counter. 

"Come sit down."

Simon appreciates the order. Billy rolls the dough out on the counter, measuring the thickness with her knuckle with a precision Simon would expect out of her. He has to keep himself from staring at her; instead, he analyzes the rest of the apartment. 

He can see everything but the bedroom from his one spot; that door is firmly shut. It's clean but the type of clean houses have whenever someone new is coming over and everything is thrown into a closet. After a few minutes, Simon thinks he needs to speak.

"What are you making?"

"Rolls. I made - uh - what is the fancy word for it - beef bourgine?"

"Beef bourguignon?"

Billy smiles down at the dough as she cuts squares out.

"I'm glad one of us can say it - I can cook, I just can't speak French."

"Do you always cook like this?"

"Only on special occasions."

Special occasions . 

It's awkward at first for Simon to sit there while she moves about the kitchen, putting the rolls in the oven and cleaning the counter; Billy doesn't speak much and Simon knows she doesn't feel the need to fill the silence either. 

His phone buzzes again - under the counter he checks it.

Johnny:

don't leave me hanging lt tell me whos it is

"Your girlfriend?" Billy teases without turning to look at Simon from the other side of the kitchen. 

"Not exactly," Simon says, muting the phone and shoving it back in his pocket. 

"Do you have one?" Her voice is prying, but she doesn't look at Simon as she pulls bowls down from the cabinet. 

"A girlfriend?"

"Yeah."

It bubbles inside him - just once - the urge to tell her about himself . He swallows it down.

"No."

"Not even back home?"

"Back home?"

She grins at him slyly, setting two glasses of water down in front of the two of them.

"Why do you think I have to keep paying you in cash? Your um….paperwork didn't exactly list you as being an employable American. And you have - you know - an accent."

Simon doesn't realize he's leaning toward her until his elbows hit the counter. 

"No, not back home."

She seems satisfied by that answer - or she doesn't have time to ask anything else. Behind her the oven timer beeps and she turns to pull the rolls out. They're barely out of the oven whenever she ladles the stew into the bowls and pulls two rolls off one for each of them.

 Pushing the bowl towards Simon she opens her mouth - Simon thinks she's going to ask something else but she just shakes her head. 

"I'm going to eat over there, so you can eat too," she says passing him a fork. 

"No cameras?"

"None you can see."

She retreats to the other side of the room and drops down on the couch so that she's facing away from him. Muffled behind a door to the right, Simon can hear her cat meow once. 

They eat in silence; Simon knows she's only eating slowly to give him time to finish without her accidentally turning to see his face. He doesn't need it: he realizes he hasn't had a meal that hasn't consisted of a sandwich or some form of potatoes in weeks; he eats fast, slowing down just as he finishes to keep from embarrassing himself. 

He sets the bowl down with enough dramatics that she can tell he's done without having to turn around. It's quiet again when she comes into the kitchen and takes his bowl to rinse it out in the sink. The sound of the water makes his skin crawl; it clashes with the domestic feeling of being taken care of. 

She laughs quietly to herself as she dries her hands on her shirt, lifting it up just enough to expose the little shorts she has on underneath.

"Something funny?"

"Not really funny," she says, hands stilling in her shirt, "I don't know - it just - I - well it's about this time of dinner that guys usually try to take me to the bedroom. I was just thinking about how different this night would be with anyone else."

With anyone else . 

That bothers him some.

"I don't suppose that's what you came here for," she grins at him as she speaks, resting her elbows on the counter. "Besides we don't even know each other."

"We work with each other every weekend," Simon retorts, not sure why he feels the need to prove her wrong.

"And we barely speak the entire time."

She points at him, her bright yellow nails glinting in the light.

"I've never seen you in anything other than long sleeves, even on the hottest day. You could have like fucking tentacles under there and I wouldn't know. And you don't even know anything about me."

For once, Simon doesn't think - he does.

He pushes his sleeves up slowly, each one nearly to his elbow. Billy leans forward, just enough to see the tattoo ink and scars that mar his forearms. Her fingers twitch against the countertop like she wants to reach out and touch him, but they stay still.

"Do you - do you only have tattoos on your arms?"

Simon reaches up to hook one finger in his collar and pulls it down just a half inch - just enough to show her the ink there.

"Your turn," Simon says, dropping his hand down. Under the counter, it lies fisted on his thigh.

"My turn?" Billy asks eyebrow cocked at him.

"Do you have any tattoos?"

She licks her lips once; Simon can see her thinking. After a pause she reaches down to grab the edge of her shirt - Simon's heart clenches. She lifts the hem up, just enough to show him the edge of a tattoo on her side, disappearing beneath her shorts and rising above where she lifted. She laughs a little as she drops the shirt.

"Is that all we need to know about each other?"

"It's a start."

***

He finally tells her he was in the military four Sundays after the first one. She'd told him at work she was too tired to cook and apologized, promising to make it up to him. So when he showed up at her door with a pizza and a promise that he was just dropping it off on his way home, he was surprised when she asked him to come in.

Each week they coaxed something new out of each other: a snippet about their families, about their travels. He loves Kentucky; she's from the East Coast. Her father died young. He's from England.

She's curled up in the recliner the cat on her stomach - they're watching something on television but they're both not really paying attention to it. So he blurts it out - a new confession in this weekly therapy.

"I was in the military."

"I guessed. The British Armed Forces?"

"The SAS."

She frowns and Simon stiffens.

"Is that like a unit or something?"

"Yeah."

This time she grins.

"Is that why you always lock my door behind you when you come in?"

"No. I do it because you never know who could come in when you're alone."

"You mean when you're not here."

Yes.

"No."

She rolls over, clutching the cat to her chest so as to not dump him on the floor until her feet hang over the arm and she can eyeball Simon across the room.

"I can shoot straight."

"Can you?"

***

She can. She takes him through the desert on Friday afternoon, bundled up against the cold. Out where they can target practice without anyone bothering them.

She hits every target.

***

"Christmas is this weekend."

"Yeah."

"So you know we're closed right? I'm not paying you time and a half."

A pause longer than he's used to.

"Are you doing anything for Christmas?"

"No."

"Do you want to come over?"

***

She makes Chinese on Christmas. A tradition she says because when she was younger the only places open were Chinese restaurants and her dad couldn't cook. They didn't have real dinners until she learned to cook herself, but it was always Chinese on Christmas.

The cat has a bell around its neck for the holiday and it latches onto Simon for the night. She wrinkles her nose at the cat and calls him a traitor. The cat doesn't seem to care. 

"I didn't get you a present," she says, putting her bowl on the coffee table. From his spot in the kitchen, Simon speaks.

"I didn't get you one either."

"Well, you're slowly building me an entire coffee shop."

"That's not present."

"Well, it's not exactly in your job description either."

He leaves his half-eaten bowl on the counter to drop down on the couch. She's sideways in the armchair, shirt riding up and a bruise on her shin. She's back to white nails.

"I can make out with you for Christmas; other guys have liked that present."

Simon's heart nearly stops. 

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just kidding Si."

Just kidding .

***

She begs and pleads with him to please go out to the bar with her for the new year. He doesn't have to drink, she says, she can drink enough for the both of them. 

She does. She doesn't even make it until eleven.

He carries her home on his back. Her door is unlocked and wants to think about how dangerous that is, but all he can think about is her warm breath on his neck.

He drops her unceremoniously onto the couch - he thinks about carrying her to the bedroom, but that's one place the door has always been shut to. 

He does take her shoes off of her while she insists she can do that herself. He slips the right one off when the fireworks go off outside; the entire town is bathed in their light.

"Midnight," she says as Simon rises up on one knee in front of her, ready to tell her goodbye and good night.

She kisses him over the mask.

She doesn't mention it the next day.

***

By summer, Simon has the entire cafe portion of the store finished. He's embarrassed when she hangs a sign over the area: 'Simon's Spot'. 

"What?" She asks, peering down at him from the top of the ladder. "You built it."

***

He breaks during the summer. Billy calls him on a Tuesday, asking if he knows anything about air conditioning systems.

"You built the cafe, so I know you're handy."

He doesn't. But he can figure it out. 

After hours the bookstore is sweltering. Billy has the blinds pulled down in a futile attempt to keep out some of the heat and the setting sun. Her shirt, already cropped short, clings to her with sweat when she unlocks the front door for Simon. 

It takes him two hours but he figures it out. When it kicks on she looks up at him, one arm resting on his shoulder, and tells him he's her hero.

He makes it all the way to her apartment - the promise of something for dinner and a cold drink as for payment the ruse - before he does it. 

It's dark inside, dark enough that when he locks the door behind him, he slips his mask off. She turns to ask him something - he doesn't hear it; he's too busy kissing her, pushing her back against the kitchen cabinet. 

It's messy - the kissing - he can't remember the last time he kissed somebody like this - all teeth and tongue and need.

When they stumble into her room, he doesn't take his shirt off, and she doesn't ask why.

***

"Come visit me L.T.. Scotlands beautiful this time of year."

"I'll have to book two tickets Johnny; that's not cheap."

"Alright, you cheap bastard you can afford it."

[snek-eyes]

Good Omens fic recs

Hello all! Wanted to share a few of my longtime faves. These are all pre-s2, might do another with my post-s2 recs? Narrowed it down to 10, since that's the max links tumbl lets you have in a post.

Any Way You Want It

Author: Justkeeptrekkin Words: 27,500 Chapters: 5/5 Rating: Mature Mood: Vacation, soft but introspective After finally getting heaven and hell off their backs (at a cost) Crowley and Aziraphale go on holiday to a cottage in Scotland. Fluffy with fun snappy dialogue, the two really feel like best friends here! Aziraphale struggles with his tendency to go slower than even he wants.

Instructions Not Included

Author: Atalan Words: 68,000 Chapters: 13/13 Rating: Teen Mood: Detective / Gen (There are feelings but it earns that slowburn tag) My "if season 2 isn't good, this is my season 2" fic. Now, I liked season 2, but this is still SO good. After the notpocalypse, Aziraphale and Crowley start a detective agency investigating supernatural happenings together. New characters include Raphael (who totally missed the apocalypse haha whoops), and a big spooky dog (whomst I adore). Note that while this fic stands just fine on its own, there is an unfinished sequel that imo doesn't leave off anywhere stressful.

When in Rome

Author: Kedreeva Words: 4,000 Rating: General Mood: The liminal space of nighttime conversations What happens after Aziraphale invites Crowley to oysters: Wings and reading. Tentative and innocent in those early days.

the deft, sweet gesture of your hand

Author: deadgreeks Words: 12,000 Rating: Explicit Mood: Hurt/Comfort, introspection A few years after the failed apocalypse Crowley shows up badly injured at the bookshop. Aziraphale has to help heal Crowley and save them both, and still finds the time to knit his feelings.

Chemistry

Author: Twilightcitysky Words: 122,000 Chapters: 19/19 Rating: Explicit Mood: Y'ever want a side of learning something with your romcom? After realizing they might need their own corporations to heal themselves now that they're not working for heaven and hell, Aziraphale and Crowley turn on all their bodily functions. All of them. What could be a silly premise is played out very satisfyingly, the actual biology of hormones at play here is fascinating. (this is not really at all related but: has anyone else read Peeps by Scott Westerfeld? Because the format reminded me of this in that it did a similar thing of playing straight the concept of "what could cause vampires to be real" that drew on inspiration from real life parasites interspersed between the chapters. I dig it. Anyway!)

Reservations

Author: AnnetheCatDetective Words: 10,000 Chapters: 3/? (Technically unfinished, but leaves off in a satisfying spot) Rating: Not Rated Mood: Meta (Character study as story) “There's some competition for Aziraphale and Crowley's usual table at the Ritz…” A couple of miracles bend reality and, well… you ever been like, “The boys need therapy, but who could possibly give it to them?” I love crossovers where the TV boys meet other versions of themselves, this one is my favorite.

i can't say the words, so i wrote you into my verse

Author: mygalfriday (BrinneyFriday) Words: 5,000 Rating: Teen Mood: Snapshots through history "Crowley has tattoos and every few centuries, Aziraphale discovers a new one." Simple and paints a lovely picture.

By Definition

Author: idiopathicsmile Words: 3,000 Rating: Explicit Mood: Smutty but fond A night together after the Ritz fic where Aziraphale is asexual and Crowley isn’t and how that works for them. The dialogue here is positively delightful.

Bark Dust

Author: rfsmiley Words: 8,000 Rating: Mature (mostly for injuries) Mood: Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Historical Crowley is very badly injured in a battle, and Aziraphale has to figure out how to save his life.

Tell Me A Story

Author: brilliant_or_insane Words: 5,000 Rating: Teen Mood: Soft and warm Aziraphale likes telling stories and Crowley likes to listen. But when the demon is dissatisfied by sad endings and can't relate to the happy ones, Aziraphale decides to move them forward by telling a new story. (Of course, Crowley isn't entirely satisfied with the angel's perspective on that one either.)

[oxymorayuri]

𝐶𝘩𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝟷𝟻

𝐺𝑖𝑟𝑙'𝑠 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘 »

𝑇𝑟𝑎𝑓𝑎𝑙𝑔𝑎𝑟 𝐷. 𝑊𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟

𝐿𝑎𝑤 ✘ ♀ 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓: マキトシ

Story: The princess of Tanata

[Long Fic]

➽ Click on this link to see all chapters.

Spoiler: nope

Warnings: nope

slowburn with plot

Wordcount: 3057

Text in italics emphasizes the reader’s thoughts

Bold and italic text emphasizes Law's thoughts *~*

Tagging: @slytherinambitious - @sassyyassi - @norasincubi - @cottoncandyloverrrr - @one-piece-frvr7

"Sorry y/n to interrupt your special time with Law…" She approaches you with a mischievous grin on her face and laughs in your ear. You frown at her as you walk side by side down the long hallway. What's up with that remark?

"Special time? Huh? What's up with you?" You roll your eyes and lightly push her away with your shoulder. Nami pouts a little, her eyes glinting at you knowingly.

"Oh come on, I've got you all figured out. Whenever you had your little lessons, you always ran around the palace with a huge grin on your face…." She stands in front of you and forces you to stop. With her hands clasped behind her back, she wiggles her eyebrows up and down like 'come on, tell me something'. You didn't realize how obviously you were behaving, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything.

"Oh, I was just happy because I was learning new things. Everything is a bit exciting at the moment… Besides, I wasn't alone with him… Chopper was also there and together with Law they taught me about your medicine." You talk your way out of it, but you're still unsure whether Nami will buy it. She looks after you with obvious suspicion as you walk past her.

"Nope, I don't believe you! After all, I just saw how close you were sitting to each other!" You suddenly stop in your tracks. A triumphant smile appears on Nami's face.

"I also saw how much you had blushed."

She comes closer to you and grabs you by the shoulders.

"Oh come on, he just looks different from the men who live here, of course I'm interested." You reluctantly admit. When you can't brush Nami off, you try to play it cool.

"Yeah, sure, and what about Zoro?" - "Eww Zoro? He's just like Ambrosios, all muscles and pride." You look arrogantly at your fingernails and ignore Nami's gaze. You don't let yourself get down, even if Nami is pacing around you like a wild cat.

"What about Sanji?" You put your hands on your hips a little appalled.

"Listen, the womanizer might be able to cook, but before anything happens between him and me, he'll already have died of a nosebleed… Besides, Thalia likes him!" - "Okay, okay, I get it. But tell me… how come, there's nothing going on between you and Ambrosios? This guy is hot as hell."

Ahhhh, I guess I figured out Nami's type. You save that info.

"Me and Ambrosios?! No way! I grew up with him, he's like my brother and he's totally annoying." You laugh a little. "He's just like a big brother who likes to get on his sister's nerves." - "Uh huh." She looks at you again with a look that confuses you. Like she knows things you don't.

"All right… On your nerves… You're so blind! That guy has a huuuge crush on you!" Your reaction is almost disgusted and you twitch an eye uncontrollably. Maybe Nami is just crazy, but somehow you really love that about her. Your disturbed face relaxes again and you burst out laughing.

"So what? It doesn't change anything anyway." Your laughter dies down and you shake your head slightly as you start walking again.

"Uh? What does that mean?" She catches up and now you're walking side by side again.

"Well, I'm the priestess and that means I can't get married or have a romantic relationship." Nami's face goes a little pale.

"And what about your womanly needs?"

You weren't expecting such a direct and intimate question and you blush in an instant.

"Heeey! what's this all about? Do you want me to pepper you with questions like that? With how many members have you hooked up with? hmm?" You stick your tongue out at her.

"Yeah, well, I'll leave the subject at that… But I'll stick to my opinion that you really like 'Mr. Surgeon of Death'." - "Oh, think what you want." You know you can't convince Nami anyway, so you just leave it alone.

When you arrive in her and Robin's room, Robin sits on her bed. She looks up from her book and smiles gently at you without saying anything.

You're not sure what Nami has planned, you more or less just followed her without asking. Nami puts down the picnic basket and turns to face you, hands on her hips.

"Okay! You can decide y/n, do you want to talk and eat the pastries or would you rather go shopping to distract yourself?" Her dynamic nature makes you laugh.

"Can I have both?" A little shyly, you make circular movements with your index fingers. Surprised, Nami thinks for a moment.

"Yes, of course!" She opens the picnic basket and takes things out, including a bottle of wine. Meanwhile, Robin had fetched three wine glasses and poured everyone some wine. Together you sat on Nami's huge bed, which had room for at least two more people.

"Do you want to talk about why you… you know… cried?" She starts the conversation a little cautiously. Her voice took on a soft tone and there was no sign of her quirky manner. She was genuinely worried about you.

You take a deep breath and briefly consider how to start the conversation.

"What would you do if you were forced to give up your dreams?" Nami and Robin look at each other knowingly, they both know exactly what it's like to live a life where dreams have no room.

"I wouldn't give a shit what the others say!" Nami laughs as she looks at you again. The answer is perhaps charming but unfortunately not helpful. You groan a little in despair and Nami realizes that she can't comfort you with that.

"You know, I can speak from experience that life doesn't always go the way you want it to. Sometimes you just need a little push in the right direction!" She makes a hand gesture as if she's pushing someone away from her.

"A push huh?" - "Yes, exactly. I was caught in a pretty stupid situation back then, but Luffy got me out of it!" You perk up and a mischievous grin appears on your face.

"Ahh, so you're into Luffy?" You want to get back at her a little, for cornering you like that before. She grabs a pillow and swings at you. You narrowly avoid her attack and you and Robin laugh at the redhead.

"Noooo! Oh my god…! Luffy has inspired me to make my dreams come true… He inspired each and every one of us…" She says proudly as she looks over at Robin, who nods in confirmation.

"Oh that's nice… I've hardly talked to anyone about it, but those who know my wish have tried to talk me out of it…" You look sadly at your wine.

"Well… what is your wish?" She tilts her head slightly to one side and raises an eyebrow.

"I wish to leave the kingdom and relinquish my title as a holy princess…" You don't dare to look into her eyes. You don't want to see her reaction. You wouldn't be able to handle it, if one more person had something against your dreams today.

"Ah okay, and what's wrong with that?" Your face goes up again abruptly and you look at her with widened eyes. She seems so unfazed by your statement, as if you just want to try out a new hobby like drawing.

"Well, I would have to leave everyone behind and I have duties, not only as a priestess but also as a princess. I can't be replaced, but even if I could find a solution, my grandfather wouldn't let me go." The two women nod attentively at you.

"You know, your grandfather is probably just worried. It's a crazy world out there…" You roll your eyes.

"Yes, I'm aware of that, but it's not like I'm weak!" - "That's right, y/n can fight back, she's proven that to us." Robin swings the wine around in her glass as she recalls her memory.

"Yeah that's right…" Nami taps her finger thoughtfully on her lip. "That's just how family is… They always worry, and sometimes too much." She shrugs her shoulders and you begin to understand no matter how strong or what solution you come up with, your grandfather won't be able to let you go with a calm heart.

"Who else advised you against your ideas?" Robin asks you.

"Law." - "Law?" says Nami in surprise.

"Yes, Law. He said it wouldn't be a good idea to sail into the world with pirates." - "Ohh what a gentleman..." She rolls her eyes and lets herself fall a little backwards. She sighs with satisfaction as her back touches the soft pillows.

"Maybe he just wanted to warn you how hard the pirate life is compared to your princess life? No more soft silk cushions, no servants to bring you anything you want with a smile, no expensive wine, no privacy, no carefree life…" Before she can add any more points, you stop her by pressing your hand over her mouth and she looks at you in surprise.

"Yes, yes, I know all that, but it's not something I would miss, for sure." You lean back and let go of her mouth. You groan with frustration as you empty your glass in one go.

"I don't want to be adored or wrapped in cotton. Besides, I want to learn more about my powers and that's something even my grandfather forbids me to do." Nami and Robin look at you questioningly. You tell them as much as you can remember about the big disaster back then. How you unleashed forces that almost caused more destruction than the pirates who attacked you.

They hang eagerly on your lips, their emotions wavering between amazement and sadness as you tell them about it. You talk about how your grandfather sank into a deep hole and a dark year in the history of his reign followed. Until the day you woke up from your coma.

"When I woke up again, I couldn't remember anything. A few memories came back little by little, but most of them are gone. My grandfather then made the decision, to burn all unimportant or dangerous scripts and hid artifacts about the Taimu Taimu fruit, so that I would never be able to unleash my true potential." - "But that only means you can't fully control your power..." Robin interrupts you. You nod at her with a smile.

"Maybe so, but explain that to the king." You shrug your shoulders "And your uncle? Can't he help you?" - "Zelos? He would never go against the king's word. He already gets himself into enough trouble to help me, but he can't do anything about it himself."

Talking to the girls was like balm for your soul. In the palace, you have no one you could talk to so freely about such things. Even though Thalia is always there for you, you can't even tell her certain things. You feel a bit bad because you don't even believe that Thalia would shun you. If anything, she's the 'don't just live your life, love it as well' type of girl.

"Hey, you look so sad again. You should try this!" Nami appears in your field of vision and holds up a pastry to your face. Chuckling, you take the treat and bite into it. It's so fluffy and sweet.

"Hey y/n what do you say? How do I look?" Nami grabs her attire by the sides and turns slightly in front of you so that you can see her from all sides.

The tight fitting of the satin gown emphasizes her figure and the folds of the fabric drape elegantly over her various curves. Colorful accents in soft shades of pink and gold are set into the fabric. The color is definitely hers.

"It looks so good on you! But there's still something missing!" You walk through the store while a few attendants trot after you, with dresses in their arms. You go to a stand where bracelets with silk shawls are hanging, searching for a certain color. Your eyes widen in delight as you find the perfect one.

You walk back happily with the bracelets in your hand.

"Here, you have to attach these to your upper arms. The fabric will blow behind you like a veil." You help her put the hoops on and smile at her as you take a step back to have a look at Nami.

"Aww those are so pretty! That rose gold goes really well with the gown and the veils even glitter slightly in the light!" Enchanted, she looks at herself in the mirror.

" I have to say, Princess, your country has such a romantic taste in fashion." - "If you say so." You laugh into your hand.

"What about you?" - "Me?! No no, I certainly have enough dresses in the palace." You cross your arms in front of you.

"But there's another store I'd like to go to." - "Oh yeah? Where do you want to go?" she calls out as she changes in the fitting room.

"There's a little bookshop here and the owner is an author himself. My favorite author, to be exact, and he's published a new book that I have to buy!" By the end of your sentence, your excitement was hard to ignore, you've been waiting for him to finish it for ages now. It's a sequel to a romance and the first part pretty much ended in a cliffhanger.

Nami steps out of the cabin in her own clothes. One of your servants stepped right up to her and held out his arm.

"Lady Nami, let me carry this for you." He spoke politely.

"I could reaaaally get used to this!" Laughing like a little princess with her nose up, she put her clothes on his arm. This would look arrogant on someone else, but Nami just has such charisma that you can't really be mad at her.

You hook yourself into her arm and walk towards the exit together. The shopkeeper thanks you for your visit and gives you a respectful bow.

"Hey wait!" Nami stops in her tracks and you fall back, a little in surprise.

"I forgot to pay for this!" As she turns back around, you hold her tightly and shake your head.

"Don't worry about it, the owner will just send us the bill and Grandpa will pay it." You gasp a little as Nami jumps into your arms with hearts in her eyes.

"This is a DREAM!" She cries wildly and the servants all rush to help her with tissues.

On the streets, people greet you with happy faces. They love you. They cherish you. They worship you… Of course you like attention but it always feels like they only love what you do and not who you are. With your distinguished manner, you return every wave, smile and chat with anyone who comes your way.

That's part of your job as a princess. You must be kind and generous to your people, because the harmony in Tanata depends on the royal house and the stronger the bond between the people and the royal house, the better.

"Hoowww you haven't finished it yet?!" You rest your arms on the counter in despair and hang your head.

"I'm sorry princess but somehow I'm lacking a bit of inspiration…" The bookshop owner is just as depressed as you are and you both compete in sulking.

"Inspiration?" Nami wonders.

"Yes, somehow everything I have in my head is so dull and nothing new…" The owner grips the back of his neck a little ashamed.

"Oh come on, this book is my only chance of romance." You cry like a waterfall. You've read the first part so many times that you have it all memorized by now. When you heard that he was writing a second part, you immediately rushed to his bookshop to confirm the rumor.

"Sorry princess… I was hoping I could get some inspiration from your guests, after all, today is the party for little Princess Megara!" Hope sparkles in his eyes.

"Shit!" slips out of your mouth and you quickly put your hand over your lips. Your servants and the bookshop owner react in shock.

"Your Highness, please watch your language!" you hold back the eye roll and smile apologetically at them.

"I completely forgot that today is the big banquet for the birth of Megara… we should get back to the palace Nami!" You grab the redhead by the hand and stormed out of the store.

"Hey, why are you in such a hurry!" you look over your shoulder at her "I still have to prepare the present for Megara!"

Back in the palace, you hurry into the dressing room and search through all the drawers until you come across a small chest. You pause for a moment as you hold the small blue chest in your hands. Your fingers run over the engraving and a small stab goes through your heart.

"Did this belong to your mother?" Nami asks when she sees the name on the chest.

"Yes." You say in a low voice. You hesitate slightly before you finally bring yourself to open it.

On a small cushion lies a beautiful laurel crown with unique details. The crown is adorned with fine moonstone dahlias and carefully you hold your mother's crown in your hands.

"It's beautiful." Nami swears.

You carefully place it in a flat gift box and tie a bow around it.

"I think it will look very good on Megara." You both smile at each other and leave the room together.

"Well then, let's get dressed up for the banquet!"

After you and Nami went your separate ways, you went to change your clothes and Nami went back to Hera's palace. You agreed with her that you would pick up the whole gang, when it was time for the banquet, so that you could all go into town together. When the time came, you started to get a little nervous. You're really looking forward to the party.

Arriving at the huge door of the Heras palace, you take a deep breath before stepping inside. As you open it, you are immediately struck by the sight of Law in the hall, talking to Zoro and Ambrosios.

He looks simply incredible in the traditional attire... You try to control your face as the guys notice you.

"Hey hey heeey, Ambrosios… What are you doing here?" You try to make your expression look like you're surprised by his presence. The warrior rubs his eyes as his gaze fell on your cleavage.

"Princess?!" He eyes you up and down. "Is that you? Yes, it's you! I thought I saw an angel…" He runs his fingers through your hair and smiles charmingly at you. You stick a finger down your throat in a symbolic gesture and imitate a gagging sound. You think of Nami's words, but no matter how hot he is, he doesn't trigger anything in you. In your eyes, he's just a typical heartbreaker.

"Distance big man." You turn away from him. Your eyes go around. The hall is large and the nearby fireplace room is always open. A few pirates have gathered there, the only ones you haven't seen yet are the girls Ikkaku, Nami and Robin.

"The girls aren't ready yet?" - "Nope, it'll probably take a little longer. Women…" Zoro answers you somewhat sneeringly. You have to laugh at his comment and playfully nudge him in the side so that his robe, which he must have struggled to put on, gets loose.

"Don't say that so loudly you greenhead, you know how hard it is to get into those clothes. The women's clothing is actually much more complicated than the men's." Ambrosios comes close to you and strokes your shoulders.

"And much nicer." He winks at you. You shake his hands off before he starts to laugh. He whispers 'Don't be like that' but you don't respond. He just wants to play with you.

"Law, did Bepo get my present?" you clap your hands together and get a little closer to him. You asked Law to give Bepo a cloak that you got specially tailored for the mink.

He no longer keeps his distance when you approach him, he's gotten used to it over time. This is good for you, as you no longer have to be ashamed because he always reacted a little awkwardly.

"Yes, he even wears the cloak." He mentions coolly while pointing at the polar bear. Your eyes follow his elegant fingers. For a moment, your gaze lingers on his tattoos. The black color on his knuckles flatters his skin color.

When you catch the sight of the bear, it leaves you flushed and you run into the mink's arms.

"Awww Bepo! That looks so good on you!" You literally jump into his face as you wrap your arms around him. The polar bear returns your hug and rubs his cheek against yours.

"Hehe… you're the one who looks gorgeous!" - "Awww you're so cute!" Gently, the Mink lets you down onto the floor, being very careful not to step on your gown.

You're always fabulously dressed either way, but today's outfit was a little more revealing than usual. After all, it's a party and you wanted to be a little more daring. Not only are you showing a little more skin, but your robe is tinted to match your eyes and it's obvious from a distance that you're wrapped in only the most expensive fabrics. Jewelry on both arms and a long veil is attached to your shoulders which blows slightly in the wind when you walk.

When the girls came into the hall and you were sure that everyone was there, you set off together into the city, to celebrate the birth of the new Princess Megara.

Excited already? I definitely am XD The banquet will surely be a pretty long chapter so I have to finish chapter 15 like this. If I had continued, I would have had a hard time finding a cut. I'm looking forward to writing the banquet chapter for WEEKS, so you can be sure I'll post it this week :D

See you next time, kiss kiss ♡

➽ Next chapter

[bloodlust-1]

The Consort ₊⁺જ⁀➴

NSWF | Explicit 18+ | Angst | Blood | Ascended Astarion | Spawn Tav | Dark | Smut | Trauma | Stockholm Syndrome | Violence

Ascended Astarion x fem Tav

Chapter: 3 | Pins & Needles

Summary: In a tumultuous tale of love, power, and betrayal, Tav finds herself entangled in a complex relationship with Astarion, a heartless vampire lord who will stop at nothing to maintain control over his newfound spawn. As Tav witnesses Astarion’s transformation and descent into darkness, their love is put to the ultimate test amidst love triangles, drama, and the pursuit of world domination. Redemption seems like an elusive goal while Tav grapples with the realization of who her lover has truly become.

UPDATED EVERY MONDAY.

Notes: Anyone in the mood for some ascended Astarion smut? Cool cause this is that. Posting this a day early cause I want to…yw <3

AO3 LINK | MASTER LIST

Lovely photo by @aristenfromwarsaw

Tav stood still as Astarion draped the silk cloth over her body, his hands skillfully taking measurements with precision. The tape hanging from his neck swayed gently as he worked, his focus never broke his hands as he sewed the dress together.

"Aagh -" A sudden prick from the needle stabbed her skin, causing a sharp breath to escape her lips.

“Stay still,” Astarion demanded with a slight tug. “The party is tomorrow night, and I need to finish this dress for you.”

Tav obliged, standing motionless before the large mirror.

Well maybe if he'd be more careful I wouldn't have to move.

Tav watched in silence as Astarion created a dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, creating a sexy silhouette around her figure. Tav stared into the mirror, even though she couldn’t see her reflection. Instead, she could only see the shape of the dress as it took form on her body.

I wonder how this color compliments my skin, hair, and eyes. I can't tell. Only Astarion is my mirror. He always tells me how beautiful I am.

While Astarion continued to sew, Tav’s thoughts drifted to a place of her life before a spawn, and remembering her time if her childhood in the woods; trying to teach herself how to hunt under the sun. Tav's emotions hid coldly beneath a mask of stoicism.

Astarion was on a knee, threading the last bit of the dress's slit. He suddenly leaned in closer to Tav’s exposed thigh.

His lips pressed against her soft flesh, sending a tingle up Tav’s spine. The sensation was both electrifying and unsettling as Astarion’s kisses grew rougher, his fingers gripping her thigh tightly.

Astarion’s actions became more aggressive. His cold, seductive eyes bore into hers as he sank his teeth into her thigh, drawing blood that trickled down her skin. The mixture of pain and pleasure overwhelmed Tav, causing her legs to tremble beneath her.

After savoring the taste of her blood, Astarion stood up and admired the dress he had just finished, "Ah, a masterpiece. It looks even better on you than I imagined.”

His demeanor shifted and his eyes trailed over the silk hugging her hips. He took a step closer and hovered over her with lustful eyes, "Take it off."

Tav’s smile faded as she brushed down the fabric on her hips, "What?"

Commandingly, "Take. It. Off."

Despite feeling a mix of emotions - fear, arousal, and confusion - Tav hesitated for a moment before complying.

Tav slowly undressed, letting the dress fall to the floor around her ankles, and taking a step out of the dress. She felt exposed and vulnerable under his gaze.

“You are truly exquisite, my consort,” Astarion murmured, his voice low and husky. Tav’s cheeks flushed at his words, her breath catching in her throat as she felt his gaze linger on her breasts.

Her legs trembled and she could feel her core growing excited. The heat pooling between them was almost unbearable. Astarion sensed this, took a step closer, and grasped Tav's face firmly in his palm. He tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his crimson eyes.

“Kneel,” Astarion commanded, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

Tav’s heart pounded in her chest as she sank to her knees before him, her eyes wide and pleading. She looked up at him with confusion and longing, her lips slightly parted in anticipation.

“I want to see how well that mouth works when it isn't testing me,” Astarion whispered, this was about her teasing him earlier.

He marveled at this. Tav, on her knees naked. Just for his pleasure.

In her eyes, Astarion grew into this dominate person. Sure it was exciting but it also shook something inside her, like she was almost scared of his consequences.

Tav was at his mercy.

"Look up, and don't dare take your eyes off me." Astarion reached out for her face again and squeezed her cheeks, "Do you understand?"

Tav nodded her head with a soft, "Yes."

Again, his hand clutches her face in a tight squeeze,“Yes what?”

Tav spoke through the force of his hands pressing her cheeks together, “Yes master.”

Astarion clicked his tongue in admiration, and let go of her with a slight push. He slowly started to unravel his buckle, letting his trousers melt to the floor with his undergarments.

Tav could see his fingers unraveling himself from her peripheral, not daring to break her eye contact with him. And neither did he.

Astarion's erection popped up with the drop of his pants and he positioned himself close enough to push his head against Tav's lips, "Be a good pup." he purred.

She gapped her mouth enough to fit his tip on the base of her tongue. Tav wetted his slit before his hips greedily forced its way into her mouth. Astarion pump in and out a couple of times to prep her throat.

"That's it." His hips jerked against Tav's filled mouth, "Get it wet."

Tav looked up at Astarion, pleadingly as the heat between her legs tickled her inner thighs. Her tongue and lips wetted any skin she could wrap itself around.

Astarion then kneaded his fingers threw her thick locs, tightly grasping them before slamming his hips against her face. Tav toppled back slightly from the sudden force, but he quickly tugged her by the hair back into position. On her knees like a good girl.

The tip of his cock battered the back on her throat and her eyes quickly glossed over with tears as she struggled to keep eye contact with him.

"Don't -" Astarion groaned against the tightness of her throat, "Fuck - Don't you dare look away." He threatened Tav hoarsely between moans.

Tav grabbed onto his legs for support while continuously bobbing her head against his length. Her throat squeezed and gagged on his cock with each rough thrust.

It was unbearable. Tav could barely breathe and she struggled to moan with her mouth full of Astarion's length. The vibrations from her struggling hums only made him throw his back with ecstasy.

Tav tried to pull away, and for a moment she tugged back with a gasp escaping her lips.

"Oh, no you don't," Astarion put some distance between his legs, squatting slightly before both hands held onto Tav's head, "I'm going to fuck this mouth until I cum."

Tav's moans muffled as she nodded to his testament. The tears in her eyes began to stream down her face from his force. The preassure in her throat started to tighten around his cock, rewarding her with Astarion's sweet moans.

"That's it, fuck, that's a good girl."

His moans were something that stayed the same, even after ascending. And it was one of Tav's favorite things about him.

A whimper left Astarions lips, never breaking his half-lidded intense gaze from Tav. Every thought and action centered around fucking and possessing his dearest treasure.

Astarion felt himself getting closer to his climax, tightening his grip on Tav’s hair, pulling her closer and deeper into him. And with one last final thrust, he let out a low moan, filling Tav's mouth and throat with his white slick.

He could feel Tav hum against his skin, and when he pulled his cock out of her mouth, she stumbled down on her palms; coughing and gasping. Her head sunk low between her shoulders, desperately trying to catch her breath.

"Look at me." Astarion asserted between heavy breaths.

With watery eyes and reddened cheeks, Tav lifted her head as her chest heavily rose and fell. Her arms quivered and trembled from the intense moment.

Astarion was awed at the mess she made. He loved seeing the way her black makeup stained her cheeks, "Good pup. Now open your mouth - I want to see it."

Tav parted her lips, and the cum trickled down her bottom lip, down her jaw, and then to her neck. She stuck out her tongue to further push out his seed.

Astarion looked down at Tav with a mixture of gratitude and possession. She belonged to him.

He hummed in approval and swiped his thumb against her cummed bottom lip softly, "What a fucking mess you made..." He leaned over and hovered over her lips with a teasing whisper, "You're so beautiful when you choke on my cum."

Tav hung her head back down and tried to catch her breath. She felt defeated, horny, and unashamed as she replayed the look of pleasure of Astarions face in her head.

But it seemed she wasn't going to get anything in return, only the sweet memories of his climax. And this was Astarion's punishment to Tav, no attention to the begging heat between her legs.

Tav needed a moment to gather herself, there was no way she’d be able to stand right now with her shaky legs.

Astarion pulled his pants up and buckled himself back to normal. He stared down at the ruin he caused with a smug look on his face.

“You are just perfect.”

Next part here

See you next week for some party drama. Let me know if you’d like to be on a tag list, I’ll try my best to keep up :]

What’d you think about this chapter?

[mcrdvcks]

Sweet Dreams - Chapter 9

Chapter Summary: Alexandria is cleared to go back to classes after her near-death encounter, and a new student joins the school.

Word Count: 7.6k+

Pairing: Logan (X-Men) x Original Female Character (platonic relationship)

Notes: i can't wait for y'all to read this chapter, especially because this is where a lot of the future plots will stem from

Series Masterlist - Chapter 8 → Chapter 10

AO3 Link For Chapter

Two months after the HYDRA kidnapping, Alexandria was finally cleared to go back to classes. She suspected that Logan had convinced Kitty, Jean, and Scott to all keep an eye on her while he couldn’t.

As Kitty said, it was like she had a guardian angel and bodyguard wrapped in one.

On the third day of her being back during classes, Professor Xavier announced they had a new student, Matthew Roman.

She didn’t pay much attention to the announcement, until she had settled into her seat in algebra, Ms. Frost still getting together papers before class started in a few minutes, when a voice spoke up from her right.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

Alexandria looked through the notes Scott handed her, who was sitting on her left before the words soaked in and she turned her head to the right.

Matthew sat in the seat; his head propped up on his fist with a grin on his face. Alexandria turned to face Scott who paid no mind to her or the new kid.

“Who are you talking to?” she asked.

Matthew leaned back in his chair, twirling a pencil between his fingers, a grin still plastered on his face. “Who do you think?”

Alexandria arched an eyebrow at him, clearly unamused. “Are you talking to me?”

Matthew’s grin widened. “Of course. Who else would I be talking to?”

She narrowed her eyes at him and looked back at Scott’s notebook. “Scott could you explain- ” Alexandria looked over at Scott to find him gone, probably off to get some more water since he was complaining about spilling it at the end of breakfast.

“I could always explain it.” Matthew spoke again.

She looked back over at him, a glare on her face, but his grin was still there. She hoped he’d get the hint as she stood up from her desk and over to Ms. Frost’s desk.

Sure, she was a harsh teacher, but Alexandria’s pretty sure she’s softened up to her slightly. Especially after the whole almost dying thing she went through.

“Could you explain how you got this answer?” she asked, turning Scott’s notebook around and pointing to the problem.

Emma looked at the problem in the notebook. “Okay, Alexandria, this is a basic quadratic equation. The solution involves factoring or using the quadratic formula. The steps are as follows…”

Matthew's voice cut in, his tone nonchalant. “Hey, if you’re interested, I could explain it to you in a way that’s way more fun.”

Alexandria, still standing by Ms. Frost’s desk, glanced over her shoulder at Matthew. “And why would I want that?”

Matthew’s grin didn’t waver. “Because I’m way cooler than Ms. Frost. And besides, who doesn’t want a bit of flair with their algebra?”

Alexandria arched an eyebrow. “Flair?”

“Yeah,” Matthew said, leaning back in his chair. “Let’s just say my way is less boring.”

Emma glanced up from the notebook, her eyes narrowing slightly at Matthew’s interruption. “Matthew, this isn’t the time for theatrics. Alexandria is trying to catch up on her work.”

Matthew waved off Emma’s comment with a casual flick of his hand. “I’m just offering some alternative methods. No harm in that, right?”

Alexandria sighed and turned back to Ms. Frost. “Forget it. I’ll figure it out myself.”

Emma shook her head slightly, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Alright, Alexandria. If you need any more help, let me know.”

As Alexandria walked back to her desk, she shot a glance at Matthew, who had taken out a notebook and was scribbling something down. She tried to ignore him but couldn’t help but feel a bit annoyed by his persistent presence.

Matthew watched her with a mischievous glint in his eye. “So, what’s your deal? You usually this grumpy?”

Alexandria’s glare was icy. “I’m not grumpy. I just don’t like people who think they’re funny.”

Matthew’s smile widened. “Fair enough. But you know, I think we could get along just fine if you’d give me a chance.”

She scoffed and shook her head, focusing on her work. “I doubt it.”

Matthew didn’t seem fazed. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and continued to watch her with an amused expression. The rest of the class proceeded in a somewhat awkward silence, punctuated only by the occasional remark from Matthew, who seemed intent on breaking through Alexandria’s reserve.

When the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the class, Alexandria quickly packed up her things and made a beeline for the door. She wanted to avoid any more unnecessary interaction with the new student. However, Matthew was right behind her, his footsteps echoing as he walked alongside her.

“So, where you headed?” Matthew asked, trying to sound casual.

Alexandria kept her eyes ahead, not bothering to look at him. “None of your business.”

Matthew chuckled. “Alright, alright. I get it. You’re not a fan of small talk.” Alexandria stayed quiet.

As they reached the hallway, Matthew made a show of dramatically looking around. “Well, since you’re not interested in chatting, I guess I’ll just have to explore this place on my own.”

“Fine by me,” Alexandria replied, quickening her pace. She could hear Matthew’s laughter fading behind her, but she didn’t turn around.

She entered Ororo’s classroom for English, Jean and Scott already in their seats at the table next to her. Alexandria sat down as did another person next to her.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” She grumbled, seeing Matthew sitting next to her. Curse this classroom for having a table that seats two.

Jean and Scott shared a glance at Alexandria who glared at Matthew. “I wasn’t lying, you know. You are quite pretty.” he said.

She raised an eyebrow, “why would I care about that? And why do you keep following me?”

Matthew raised two hands, “hey, we share the same class. It’s not my fault.”

Alexandria rolled her eyes and took out her notebook, determined to focus on the lesson and ignore the persistent new student beside her. Matthew seemed unfazed by her cold demeanor, his grin widening as he settled into his seat.

“Hey,” he said casually, leaning slightly towards her. “What’s your name? You seem to know everybody around here, except for me.”

“Alexandria,” she replied curtly, not bothering to offer any additional information.

Matthew’s eyes lit up with a playful glint. “Nice to meet you, Alexandria. So, what’s the deal with this place? I hear it’s full of interesting people.”

Alexandria didn’t respond. She kept her attention fixed on the front of the classroom where Ororo was setting up for the English lesson. Despite her best efforts to ignore him, she could feel Matthew’s gaze occasionally drifting towards her.

Jean, who was seated next to Scott across the table, observed the interaction with mild amusement. She leaned towards Scott and whispered, “Looks like Matthew’s trying to make a new friend.”

Scott nodded, watching as Matthew continued his attempts to engage Alexandria. “He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.”

Ororo finally began the lesson, drawing Alexandria’s attention away from the distraction beside her. As she listened to the discussion, she could feel Matthew’s occasional glances, though she chose to ignore them.

When the class ended, Alexandria packed up her things with quick, efficient movements. She was determined not to give Matthew the satisfaction of seeing her ruffled. Just as she was about to leave, she felt a hand on her arm.

“Wait up,” Matthew said, his tone light and friendly. “I was thinking of grabbing a snack. Want to join?”

“No, thank you,” Alexandria said firmly, shaking off his hand. “I’ve got other plans.” She saw Kitty waving a hand at the lunch line, Jean and Scott behind her.

“Oof. Rough for me then. Catch you later.”

Alexandria rolled her eyes, though she was glad he had finally left her side.

During lunch, as she joined Kitty, Jean, and Scott at their usual table, the conversation inevitably shifted to the new student.

“Did you see how persistent he was?” Kitty asked, her voice laced with amusement. “Matthew’s not giving up anytime soon.”

Jean laughed softly. “He’s definitely got a lot of energy. But I guess that’s his way of making friends.”

Scott nodded, his expression thoughtful. “He’s a bit much, but maybe he’s just trying to find his place here.”

Alexandria took a bite of her sandwich, trying to ignore the conversation. “As long as he doesn’t keep bothering me, he can do whatever he wants.”

Kitty glanced at Alexandria with a sympathetic smile. “Give him a chance. It’s not easy being the new kid.”

“I’m not here to make any more friends,” Alexandria replied bluntly.

Scott held his hand to his chest, “you hear that? We’re her friends.”

Jean laughed softly, nudging Kitty. “Looks like Scott’s taken it personally.”

Kitty grinned. “I’m sure he’s just glad Alexandria’s starting to open up. It’s been a tough road for her.”

Alexandria rolled her eyes, but a faint smile tugged at her lips. “I’m just trying to get through my day without more complications.”

Scott leaned in, pretending to be offended. “Complications? We’re just here to help. No ulterior motives.”

Jean shook her head, smiling at Alexandria. “Scott’s right. We’re your friends. And we’ll be here whether you like it or not.”

As lunch continued, the conversation drifted to other topics. Alexandria was grateful for the change, focusing on her food and the comfortable company of her friends.

Meanwhile, Matthew had taken a seat at a different table, but he kept glancing over at Alexandria. He was still intrigued by her cold demeanor and was determined to break through her defenses.

After lunch, her and Scott made their way to US history. They sat in their usual seats towards the front half of the class when she noticed Matthew sitting down in the seat next to her.

“That’s Jubilee’s seat.” She said, looking through the textbook. Logan had ended up teaching her what she missed through his own life experiences. Which ended up with her calling him ‘old’ repeatedly.

Jubilee sat down in front of Alexandria, turning around to face her, “it’s a-okay with me.” She winked at Alexandria before facing forwards.

She turned to face Scott, who was once again on her left and he just smiled. “Do you need help catching up?”

Alexandria shook her head, “no, Logan caught me up.”

Scott raised an eyebrow, “surprising.”

She shrugged in response as Matthew leaned closer to her, “well, then. Maybe I could use some catching up.”

Alexandria turned to face Matthew, “you’ll find out in a minute.”

Matthew let out a dramatic sigh, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated air of defeat. “Fine. Leave me to perish by landmines.”

Alexandria, trying to suppress a smile, returned her attention to the history textbook in front of her. “I’m sure you’ll manage,” she said, her tone as deadpan as ever.

Matthew chuckled softly, seemingly undeterred. “You know, with an attitude like that, you’re really making me question whether I’ve chosen the right seat.”

Jubilee, sitting in front of Alexandria, turned around with a grin. “Don’t worry, Matt. Alexandria’s just a bit grumpy when it comes to new people.”

Matthew raised an eyebrow, looking at Alexandria. “Grumpy, huh? You know, I’m pretty good at dealing with grumpy people. Got a lot of practice back home.”

Alexandria shot him a sideways glance. “Good for you. But I’m not interested in having a chat.”

Matthew’s grin only widened. “You say that now. But give it time. I’ve got a feeling we’ll be getting along just fine.”

She wasn’t sure how this new classmate of hers could keep a grin on his face at all times and not be deterred by her clear disinterest in him.

It was almost impressive, but mostly annoying.

Logan glanced at Alexandria and then at Matthew, noting the persistent grin on the latter’s face. With a curt nod, he began discussing the complexities of early American history, his tone clearly signaling that he expected the students to pay attention. Alexandria hoped that Matthew might finally take the hint and focus on the lesson.

Yet, Matthew leaned closer, his voice barely audible over the lesson. “So, how did you end up here? I mean, besides the whole mutant thing.”

Alexandria didn’t look up from her textbook, keeping her tone clipped. “Why does it matter?”

Matthew shrugged, still grinning. “Just curious. You seem to have a lot of history. Thought I’d ask.”

Jubilee, sitting in front of Alexandria, glanced over her shoulder with a smirk. “Matt, you’re really laying it on thick, aren’t you?”

Matthew’s grin didn’t falter. “Guilty as charged. But hey, I’ve got a reputation to uphold.”

Logan’s gaze flicked to Matthew, a hint of irritation in his eyes. “Matthew, you’re here to learn, not to disrupt the class.”

Matthew straightened up, his playful expression fading slightly. “Right, sorry. Just trying to make the class a bit more interesting.”

Logan gave him a hard look before returning to the lesson. “Stick to the material, or you’ll find yourself on the wrong side of my desk.”

As the class continued, Alexandria found herself trying to focus on Logan’s lecture. Despite her best efforts, she could feel Matthew’s occasional glances. His presence was a persistent distraction, but she refused to let him get under her skin.

When the bell rang, signaling the end of the period, Alexandria was quick to pack up her things. She shot a quick look at Matthew, who was still absorbed in his notes. With a hasty goodbye to Scott and Jubilee, she headed out the door, hoping to escape Matthew’s relentless pursuit.

Matthew caught up with her in the hallway. “Hey, don’t run off so fast. I was thinking of checking out the Danger Room later. Interested?”

Alexandria turned to face him, her expression a mixture of frustration and curiosity. “I’ve got other plans.”

Matthew’s eyes lit up with mischief. “Oh, come on. It’s not every day you get to see the Danger Room. And besides, it might be fun to have some company.”

Alexandria sighed, her patience wearing thin. “I don’t do ‘fun’ with strangers.”

Matthew raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fair enough. I’ll stop bugging you. For now.”

She nodded curtly and turned towards the common room. As she walked, she could hear Matthew’s footsteps behind her, but she chose to ignore them.

As she walked past the kitchen, she noticed Logan walking into the room. She followed as he glanced over at her, pulling out a bottle of beer and a juice box.

She wanted to tell him she’s not a child, and therefore doesn’t want a juice box, but it was apple juice, so she took it.

“You sure you didn’t want to go to the Danger Room? You could’ve kicked his ass.” Logan said, opening the bottle.

Alexandria shrugged and took a sip of her juice, “thought you didn’t want me doing anything strenuous.”

Logan snorted. “I’m surprised you listened to me.”

“I can listen sometimes.” She responded. “I’ve been going to bed at 11 like you asked.”

Logan took a swig from his beer and then gave Alexandria a sideways glance. “For 2 days. I doubt it’ll last a week.”

Alexandria rolled her eyes, leaning against the counter. “Wanna bet?”

Logan took another swig of his beer, smirking as he set it down on the counter. “You’re on. I’ll give you a week before you slip back into your old habits. No way you’ll keep up the bedtime routine for long.”

Alexandria raised an eyebrow. “And what’s the wager?”

Logan thought for a moment, then grinned. “If you can keep it up for a full week, I’ll teach you how to ride.”

Her eyes lit up. They had been for a few more motorcycle rides in the past month, but when she asked if he could teach her, he said ‘in your dreams.’ Logan’s offer now was a rare chance she wasn’t about to pass up.

“You really mean it?” Alexandria asked, her voice betraying her excitement despite her effort to sound nonchalant.

Logan’s smirk widened. “You think I’m gonna back down now? You want to learn, you gotta follow the rules.”

Alexandria took another sip of her apple juice, trying to keep her expression neutral. “I’ll keep the bedtime routine for a week. You can count on it.”

Logan chuckled, clearly amused. “Alright, but don’t think it’ll be easy. And don’t forget what happens if you don’t keep it up for a week.”

She raised an eyebrow, “okay. Then what’s my punishment?”

Logan took another swig from his beer, setting it down on the counter with a clunk. He crossed his arms and gave Alexandria a thoughtful look. “If you don’t keep up the bedtime routine for a week, you’ll have to help me grade papers for a week.”

She groaned, when she was on bedrest and out of the medbay she was bored out of her mind and went to Logan’s office for company. He ended up tasking her with grading papers. She did help, for an hour, then said it was torture and went back to her room.

“Yeah, I remember how much you enjoyed grading those papers,” Logan said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He leaned back against the counter, smirking at her. “But hey, if you want to learn to ride, you’ll have to earn it.”

Alexandria crossed her arms, giving him a challenging look with a hint of a smile. “Fine. I’ll keep the bedtime routine. But don’t think I’m gonna make it easy for you.”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head. “Wouldn’t expect anything less. And remember, if you slip up, you’re stuck with me and a mountain of papers.”

“I’ll manage,” Alexandria said, taking a final sip of her juice before heading out of the kitchen. “See you later.”

As Alexandria walked down the hallway, she could hear Matthew’s footsteps echoing behind her. She sighed, bracing herself for another round of unwanted conversation.

He stepped beside her, following her to the common area. She kept quiet, and so did he, which was surprising. Once she spotted Kitty, Jean, and Jubilee she turned to face Matthew and looked almost slightly horrified.

“What is wrong with your face?” she asked.

“You mean my smile?”

Alexandria narrowed her eyes, “yes.”

Matthew's smile didn't waver as he tilted his head slightly. "Oh, you mean this?" He gestured to his beaming grin. "Just my usual face. It’s a lot of work keeping it this way, you know?"

Alexandria studied him for a moment, a mix of curiosity and irritation in her eyes. “It’s… unnerving. Stop it.”

“Why would I? Seems to work for you, gorgeous.”

“What does that mean?” She gritted out.

Matthew's grin widened, seemingly unfazed by Alexandria's glare. "It means I'm just being me," he said, his voice casual and light.

Alexandria’s eyes narrowed further, her patience wearing thin. “Well then, maybe you should try being less… whatever you are.”

Matthew's grin didn't falter at Alexandria’s comment. He tilted his head, clearly amused by her irritation. “You know, you’re not the first person to find my smile unnerving. I’m just trying to be friendly.”

“Friendly isn’t the issue. It’s the way you’re constantly… smiling,” Alexandria replied, trying to keep her tone steady despite her frustration.

Matthew chuckled. “I guess you could say it’s my default setting. Besides, if you think I’m unnerving now, you should’ve seen me before I perfected this smile.”

“I’m sure you had other… charms,” Alexandria said, her sarcasm thinly veiled.

“Yeah, but this smile? It’s hard to beat,” Matthew said, still smiling. “Plus, I’ve always had a thing for Ukrainians.”

“I’m Russian, idiot.” Alexandria fired back.

His smile somehow grew wider, unnerving her even further. “Oh, even better.”

Alexandria's irritation was palpable as she glared at Matthew. “I’m glad you think so,” she said tersely, trying to keep her voice steady. “Maybe you should take a break from that grin.”

Matthew chuckled, his eyes dancing with amusement. “I’d love to, but it’s kind of my thing. Plus, it’s not every day I get to talk to someone who’s so… passionate about their dislike for smiles.”

“I’m not ‘passionate’ about anything,” Alexandria snapped. “I just find it… disconcerting.”

“Disconcerting,” Matthew repeated, nodding as if considering the term. “That’s a new one. But hey, if that’s how you feel, then I guess I’m doing something right.”

They had reached the common area, and Alexandria’s friends were scattered around, chatting and lounging. Kitty, Jean, and Jubilee looked up as Alexandria approached, their expressions ranging from curiosity to amusement. Alexandria barely registered them, her focus solely on Matthew and his persistent grin.

Jubilee leaned over to Kitty, whispering something that made both of them stifle laughs. Jean caught Alexandria’s eye and gave a sympathetic smile, clearly understanding her struggle with Matthew’s unending cheerfulness.

“Do you ever stop smiling?” Alexandria demanded, crossing her arms.

Matthew shook his head. “Not really. It’s like a reflex. But enough about me. How’s your day been so far?”

She glared at him, clearly fed up. “It’s been fine, thanks for asking. And since you’re so interested, how about you go find someone else to bother?”

Matthew’s grin softened into a more genuine, if still amused, smile. “Alright, alright. I’ll give you some space. But just so you know, I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be around.”

As he walked away, Alexandria felt a mix of relief and frustration. She turned to her friends, who were now watching her with varying degrees of curiosity and sympathy.

“Is it just me, or does he never stop?” Kitty asked, tilting her head.

“It’s not just you,” Alexandria replied, rubbing her temples. “He’s relentless.”

Jean nodded. “Matthew can be like that. But don’t let him get to you too much. He’s actually a good guy once you get to know him.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Alexandria said, though her tone suggested she had doubts. “For now, I’m just glad he’s giving me a break.”

Jubilee grinned. “You know, it’s kind of impressive how you manage to keep him at arm’s length. I don’t think many people can handle his… enthusiasm.”

Alexandria sighed. “I’m not sure I’m handling it. I’m just trying to get through the day without losing my patience.”

Kitty put a reassuring hand on Alexandria’s shoulder. “You’re doing fine. Just remember, he’s not trying to make things harder for you. He genuinely likes being friendly.”

“Great,” Alexandria said dryly. “I’ll try to remember that when I see him next.”

---

It was Friday now, which meant she only had to last 5 more days to learn how to ride a motorcycle. She was determined to win the bet, mostly because she did not want to help Logan grade papers. Kogda rak na gore svistnet. When pigs fly.

She had tried to listen to her friend’s advice, to be nicer to Matthew, but his constant smiles and niceness were almost too sweet. She wondered if cotton candy would even melt in his mouth.

She spotted Kitty, Jean, and Scott gathered on the couch, chatting and laughing. Alexandria made her way over to them, her mood slightly improved by their familiar faces.

“Hey, Alexandria,” Jean greeted with a smile. “How’s it going?”

“Fine,” Alexandria replied, plopping down on the couch beside Scott. “Just trying to keep my promise to Logan.”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “Still keeping up with that bedtime routine?”

“For now,” Alexandria said, leaning back and letting out a small sigh. “I’m determined not to help him grade papers.”

Kitty grinned. “I think Logan’s going to be surprised if you actually make it through the week.”

“Me too,” Alexandria admitted. “But I’m not backing down.”

Jean’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “You know, you don’t have to be so hard on yourself. It’s okay to have a little fun.”

“I will have fun when Logan teaches me how to ride his motorcycle.” She responded.

"Which we can all agree is completely out of the ordinary for Logan. He hates anyone touching it. He once got mad at me for looking at it," Scott said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Alexandria smirked slightly. "Maybe he's getting soft in his old age."

"Or maybe he just likes you more than he likes the rest of us," Kitty suggested with a playful nudge.

"Hard to believe," Alexandria muttered, but the small smile on her lips hinted that she didn’t entirely disagree. The idea of Logan having a soft spot for her was something she still wasn’t used to, but it was becoming more apparent with each passing day.

"You’ve definitely got a way with him," Jean added. "It’s nice to see."

Alexandria glanced at Jean, trying to read the sincerity in her voice. She wasn’t sure if Jean was just being polite or if she genuinely believed that Logan was warming up to her. Either way, it was a strange concept—someone like Logan caring about someone like her.

"Don’t make it weird," Alexandria said, leaning back into the couch, though she couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit of warmth at their words.

"We’re not making it weird, you are," Kitty teased, earning a light jab from Alexandria.

"Touché," Alexandria replied, her tone lightening. It was moments like these, surrounded by friends who didn’t judge her, that made her slowly start to see the X-Mansion as more of a home. Even if she would never admit it out loud.

"So, what’s the plan for tonight?" Scott asked, shifting the conversation away from Logan and onto safer topics.

"Just trying to survive another day without losing my mind," Alexandria said, half-joking. "And maybe, just maybe, get some peace and quiet."

"Good luck with that," Kitty said with a grin. "This place is never quiet."

"No kidding," Alexandria agreed, her thoughts briefly drifting to Matthew and his incessant smiling. Peace and quiet seemed like a luxury she could only dream of lately.

"Well, if you ever need an escape, you know where to find us," Jean offered.

"Thanks," Alexandria said, and she meant it. Despite her usual reluctance to rely on others, it was nice knowing that her friends were there for her, no matter what.

---

Matthew wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. Sure, his older sister told him that he shouldn’t see anybody as a ‘challenge’ but it was more than that.

Dad said it was love at first sight when he met mom, and mom said that she disliked him at the beginning.

He just knew when he saw her. There wasn’t any explanation, yes, she was pretty, but it was the way she held herself, the way she interacted with others.

His first two days at the school were orientation and a tour, so he would see students milling about their days, going to classes, reading, doing homework, and talking to friends.

Matthew had seen Scott get upset when there weren’t any cookies left at the lunch line, and without talking Alexandria had placed the one she had on his tray. She, without speaking, handed Jean a rubber band for her hair when she was writing.

Talking to her was different, difficult. Jubilee, who had been the one to give him a tour, said that Alexandria was rescued from HYDRA 8 months ago, and around 2 months ago had been recaptured and rescued, but almost died from a slit throat.

So, he understands she’s probably not open to strangers.

But fuck, she was driving him crazy. The small smiles she’d give to everyone but him, the chuckles and laughs she’d quietly do around others, the sweet smell of strawberries every time she walked by him.

Friday night, he called his sister, who was only 3 years older than him and in her first year of college.

“Hey, Matt!” Jenna’s voice came through the phone, cheerful and full of energy as always. “What’s up? How’s the new school?”

Matthew let out a sigh, flopping onto his bed. “It’s… complicated.”

Jenna chuckled on the other end. “Complicated? That doesn’t sound like you. What’s going on?”

He hesitated for a moment, trying to find the right words. “There’s this girl…”

“Ooh, a girl!” Jenna teased. “Tell me everything.”

“It’s not like that,” Matthew protested, though he knew his sister wouldn’t believe him. “She’s just… different. I’ve never met anyone like her.”

Jenna’s tone softened. “Different how?”

“She’s been through a lot,” Matthew explained, his voice serious. “She’s not like the other girls here. She’s distant, guarded, and it’s like she has this wall around her that no one can get through.”

“Sounds like she’s been hurt before,” Jenna said thoughtfully. “You said she’s been through a lot. What happened?”

Matthew hesitated again, unsure of how much he should reveal. “She was rescued from HYDRA about eight months ago. She was kidnapped again two months ago and nearly died. I guess that kind of trauma doesn’t just go away.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Jenna spoke again. “Wow, Matt. That’s… intense. No wonder she’s distant.”

“Yeah,” Matthew agreed. “But the thing is, I really like her. There’s something about her that I can’t get out of my head. I know she’s not interested in me, and she probably finds me annoying, but I can’t help it. I want to get to know her, to help her somehow.”

Jenna was silent for a moment, then she sighed. “Matt, it sounds like you’ve got it bad. But you have to be careful. She’s been through a lot, and she might not be ready for someone to get close to her. You can’t push her.”

“I know,” Matthew said, frustration evident in his voice. “But it’s hard. I’ve tried being friendly, but it just seems to make things worse. She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“Then maybe you need to back off a bit,” Jenna suggested gently. “Give her some space. If she wants to get to know you, she’ll come around. But you can’t force it.”

Matthew sighed, knowing she was right. “I just… I don’t want to give up on her.”

“Then don’t,” Jenna said firmly. “But be patient. She needs to know that you’re there for her, but she also needs to feel safe. If you really like her, you’ll find a way to show her that without overwhelming her.”

“Yeah,” Matthew said softly. “Thanks, Jenna. You always know what to say.”

“That’s what sisters are for,” Jenna replied with a smile in her voice. “And hey, if it works out, you’ll have one heck of a love story to tell.”

Matthew couldn’t help but laugh at that. “I’ll keep you posted.”

“Please do,” Jenna said. “And remember, take it one step at a time. She’ll come around when she’s ready.”

After hanging up, Matthew felt a little better, though the frustration of his situation still lingered. He knew Jenna was right—he needed to be patient, to give Alexandria the space she needed. But that didn’t make it any easier.

The next morning, Matthew decided to follow his sister’s advice. He would still be around, still make his presence known, but he would try to tone down the enthusiasm that seemed to annoy Alexandria so much. Maybe, just maybe, she would start to see him in a different light.

---

The weekend passed without much incident. Alexandria stuck to her bedtime routine, much to Logan’s surprise, and the two of them continued their banter about the bet. She was determined to make it through the week, and the thought of finally learning to ride a motorcycle kept her motivated.

Matthew, on the other hand, kept his distance. He still smiled when he saw Alexandria, but he didn’t push for conversation. He gave her space, just as Jenna had advised, and hoped that she would notice the change.

Tuesday rolled around, and the school was abuzz with the usual activity. Alexandria found herself in the common area again, surrounded by her friends. They were chatting about classes, upcoming events, and the usual gossip, but her mind kept drifting back to Matthew. She hadn’t seen much of him over the weekend, and his absence was oddly noticeable.

“Earth to Alexandria,” Kitty’s voice broke through her thoughts, and she blinked, realizing that everyone was looking at her.

“What?” Alexandria asked, slightly defensive.

“You okay?” Jean asked, her tone concerned. “You seem a little distracted.”

Alexandria shrugged, trying to play it off. “Just thinking.”

“About Matthew?” Jubilee asked, a knowing grin on her face.

Alexandria rolled her eyes. “No.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Kitty said, her grin matching Jubilee’s. “You’re totally not thinking about him.”

“I’m not,” Alexandria insisted, though her friends’ teasing smiles made her wonder if they saw through her denial.

“Whatever you say,” Scott chimed in, giving her a playful nudge. “But just so you know, he’s been asking about you.”

That caught Alexandria’s attention. “He has?”

Scott nodded. “Yeah, he mentioned something about wanting to make sure he wasn’t bothering you. Seemed like he was trying to give you some space.”

Alexandria frowned, a mix of confusion and curiosity in her expression. “Why?”

“Maybe because he likes you?” Kitty suggested, her tone light but with a hint of seriousness.

Alexandria scoffed, though the idea made her heart beat a little faster. “He doesn’t even know me.”

“Maybe not,” Jean said, her voice thoughtful. “But he’s trying to. And from what I’ve seen, he’s not a bad guy.”

“I didn’t say he was,” Alexandria replied, her tone defensive. “I just don’t get why he’s so… persistent.”

“Because he likes you,” Jubilee repeated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “And let’s be real, who wouldn’t?”

Alexandria rolled her eyes again, but this time there was a slight smile tugging at her lips. “You’re all ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Kitty said with a shrug. “But we’re not wrong.”

After the group separated, Alexandria headed to Hank’s classroom. She knew that Matthew had chemistry at a later time than she did, so she waited outside the room until class was over.

Five minutes later, students trickled out, Matthew being the last one out. His eyes widened as he saw Alexandria standing against the wall.

“You’re avoiding me,” she stated.

He snorted, “no.”

“Yeah.”

Matthew started to walk off, Alexandria following. It did strike her that the roles were reversed now but she paid no mind to that. “You said I was annoying, so I backed off.”

“But… that doesn’t mean I want you to stop.”

Matthew paused mid-step, turning slightly to look at Alexandria, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Wait, what?"

Alexandria huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I said, that doesn’t mean I want you to stop."

Matthew glanced sideways at Alexandria, a mix of surprise and curiosity on his face. "So, you actually want me to keep bothering you?"

Alexandria gave him a pointed look. "Not exactly. I just... don’t want you to think I don’t want to talk to you. You’ve been giving me space, and I guess I miss the, I don’t know, annoyance?"

Matthew chuckled softly, clearly pleased by her confession. "Annoyance, huh? Well, I can do that."

"Good," Alexandria said with a slight smirk, trying to ignore the way her heart was racing.

Matthew’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “You’re really something, you know that?”

“Yeah, well, you’re not exactly the easiest person to ignore either,” Alexandria replied, her tone light but with a hint of seriousness.

Matthew smirked, clearly pleased by her response. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Alexandria rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “You shouldn’t. Just don’t get used to it.”

“Fair enough,” Matthew said, catching up to her as they walked down the hallway together. “So, if I’m not supposed to stop bothering you, what exactly am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” Alexandria admitted, her shoulders lifting in a shrug. “Maybe just be… less annoying while still being persistent.”

Matthew laughed, a genuine, amused sound that made Alexandria’s heart skip a beat. “I think I can manage that. I mean, if you’re saying you miss me, I guess I’m doing something right.”

“Don’t get a big head,” Alexandria warned, though her tone was more teasing than serious.

They reached the entrance to the common area, and Matthew hesitated for a moment, looking at Alexandria with a thoughtful expression. “You know, if you ever want to talk or hang out or whatever, just let me know. I’m around.”

Alexandria met his gaze, her expression softening slightly. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Matthew nodded, then waved as he headed off toward the stairs. “See you around, Alexandria.”

She watched him go, feeling a mix of emotions she wasn’t entirely sure how to process. Part of her wanted to keep up her usual defensive wall, but another part of her was intrigued by the genuine effort Matthew was putting into breaking through it. Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Alexandria headed to her room.

She needed to finish some homework, take a shower, and go to bed. Today was the last day of the bet, and she wasn’t about to lose now.

---

Wednesday arrived, and by the time history class came up Alexandria stood in front of Logan’s desk, with a smile on her face.

“Looks like you owe me a lesson.” She said, holding her textbook against her chest.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He grumbled, though he was impressed that she stuck to it. Every night he’d pass by her door at 11 and she would be asleep. “Now, stop carrying around that textbook, sweetheart. Your ribs aren’t fully healed yet.”

Alexandria rolled her eyes, “fine. But only until you tell me when your gonna hold up your end.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, “Saturday, 9 in the morning.”

She pouted, “Saturday? That’s three days!”

Logan raised an eyebrow at Alexandria’s pout. “You think three days is a lot? Wait ‘til you see how long it takes to get you on a bike. It’s not just about showing you how to ride; it’s about making sure you’re ready.”

Alexandria crossed her arms tighter around her textbook, her pout deepening. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Yeah, well, you’re not exactly the easiest student,” Logan shot back, his lips twitching into a smirk. “You’ve got a lot to learn, and I want to make sure you’re up to it.”

“Fine, fine,” Alexandria said, rolling her eyes but her annoyance fading into a smile. “I’ll wait.”

Logan gave her a reassuring nod, then waved her off as the bell rang, signaling the start of class. "Now, get to your seat before you make me look bad in front of the students."

She shot him a playful glare before heading to her desk. And of course, Matthew was sitting at the desk to her right.

“Look at you, gorgeous. You’re smiling.” He said, wearing a smile of her own.

Alexandria sat down, “no, I’m not.”

Matthew tsked, “well, now it’s gone. Probably shouldn’t have said anything to see it longer.”

Alexandria shot him a sideways glance, trying to suppress the smile that had nearly escaped. “Don’t flatter yourself, Roman. I was just—”

“Just what?” Matthew leaned in a bit closer, his grin widening. “It looked like you were about to have a good day.”

Alexandria rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Yeah, well, you’re not exactly helping.”

Matthew raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave. For now.”

“Good,” Alexandria said, trying to sound more serious than she felt. “Keep it up, and I might start thinking you’re actually tolerable.”

Matthew’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “High praise coming from you. I’ll take it.”

The class began, and the two of them fell into the rhythm of the lesson. Alexandria found herself more aware of Matthew’s presence than usual, though she tried to focus on Logan’s lecture. She could feel his eyes on her occasionally, and it made her both irritated and intrigued.

---

Saturday came along and Alexandria made it outside to the front where Logan stood smoking a cigar and leaning against the motorcycle. She was 5 minutes early as she walked down the steps and stood in front of him, a small grin on her face.

Logan took a long drag from his cigar, watching as Alexandria approached with a slight grin on her face. She was early, which didn’t surprise him. When she wanted something, she was all in—stubborn, determined, just like him.

“Look who’s eager,” Logan remarked, exhaling smoke as he flicked the ash off the cigar. “Could’ve sworn you’d show up late just to mess with me.”

Alexandria stopped in front of him, crossing her arms as she looked over the motorcycle with a mix of excitement and nerves. “You’re the one who said nine. I’m just making sure you don’t back out.”

Logan grunted, pushing off the bike and straightening up. “Ain’t in the habit of backing outta deals, kid. You know that.”

She rolled her eyes at the ‘kid’ remark but didn’t argue. Logan had a way of making things sound final, and she wasn’t about to challenge him on something she wanted so badly.

“So, where do we start?” Alexandria asked, a hint of anticipation in her voice.

Logan studied her for a moment, then nodded toward the bike. “First, you’re gonna learn the basics. Get on and feel it out. It ain’t like ridin’ with me—you gotta control this thing yourself.”

Alexandria took a deep breath and stepped closer to the bike. She’d been on it before, but always behind Logan, never in control. There was a thrill to that, sure, but this... this was different. This was hers.

Logan watched as she swung her leg over the bike, settling onto the seat. He could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she gripped the handlebars a little too tightly. “Relax,” he said, his tone softer than usual. “You’re not gonna go anywhere yet.”

“Easy for you to say,” Alexandria muttered, though she loosened her grip slightly, trying to heed his advice.

Logan stepped up beside her, his hand resting on the handlebar next to hers. “You gotta trust the bike. Feel it. It’s an extension of you—if you’re too tense, you’re gonna fight it instead of workin’ with it.”

Alexandria glanced at him, then nodded, taking another deep breath. She tried to focus on the weight of the bike, the feel of the engine beneath her. Logan was right; she needed to relax.

“Good,” Logan said, noticing the change in her posture. “Now, lemme show you the basics.”

He walked her through the controls, explaining the clutch, throttle, brakes, and gears. Alexandria listened intently, absorbing every word. Logan wasn’t the type to give long-winded explanations, and she appreciated that. He kept things straightforward, simple—just what she needed.

“Alright,” Logan said after a while, stepping back to give her some space. “Now, give it a shot. Start her up.”

Alexandria’s heart pounded in her chest as she reached for the ignition. She’d seen Logan do it a dozen times, but now, it was her turn. She twisted the key, and the engine roared to life beneath her. The vibration of the bike sent a thrill through her, and for a moment, she couldn’t help but smile.

“Not bad,” Logan said, his eyes narrowing in approval. “Now, let’s see if you can keep it steady.”

He guided her through the process of easing the clutch and giving it a little gas, and before she knew it, the bike was moving—slowly, but moving. Alexandria’s grin widened as she felt the wind against her face, the freedom of it all.

Logan jogged alongside her, his hand hovering near the handlebar in case she needed help. “Easy now. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“I got it,” Alexandria called back, her voice full of excitement.

“Yeah, you do,” Logan replied, a rare smile tugging at his lips.

They spent the next hour going over the basics, with Logan giving pointers and corrections as needed. Alexandria was a quick learner, though Logan expected nothing less. She had the focus and determination to master this, just like she did with everything else.

After a while, Logan had her stop and get off the bike. He could see the pride in her eyes, the satisfaction of having conquered something new.

“You did good,” Logan said, nodding at the bike. “But this ain’t over yet. We’ll keep practicing until you’re ready to hit the road.”

Alexandria looked at him, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thanks, Logan. I mean it.”

He grunted, looking away as he took another drag from his cigar. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t go gettin’ all mushy on me now. We got more work to do.”

She laughed, a sound that was still rare but becoming more common these days. It was a laugh that meant she was starting to find her place, to feel like she belonged.

“Alright,” Alexandria said, standing next to the bike. “So, when’s the next lesson?”

Logan gave her a sideways glance, a smirk playing on his lips. “How’s tomorrow sound?”

“Perfect,” she replied without hesitation.

“Good,” Logan said, putting out his cigar. “Now go on, get outta here. You’ve earned a break.”

Alexandria nodded, giving the bike one last look before heading back toward the mansion. As she walked away, Logan watched her, a mix of pride and something else he couldn’t quite place. She was a tough kid, no doubt about it, but there was more to her than that. There was a fire in her, a determination that reminded him a little too much of himself.

you can probably guess where this is going... i can't help it i'm a sucker for a good love story

[scribz-ag24]

your grovyle and dusknoir pieces matter so much to me because you capture the very essence of how much the green gecko bastard and his 7.11ft tall ass ghost-guy-that-was-sent-to-kill-him-but-whoops-something-happened matter to each other and just how they change the other while still being all awkward at certain times because they are in a situation that involves feelings in which they are both not used to (grovyles emotional tendencies where he pushed down things and thoughts that would otherwise doom the mission he was on and dusknoir just being completely foreign to them because he strives from a world where kindness and love is seen as a vulnerability so he just strayed far from things that will inevitably stab him in the back) and how they try to navigate it while having to bear the annoyances of the other but still viewing them in high regard nonetheless. i dont go here too much but i figured i may as well say it because i think you're cool and because you draw those two annoying little studs so well. have a good day scribz

Waaaa thank you!! I appreciate you stop by here to be so lovely! This made my entire week 🥹🥹 I always love to see you when you tag, youre so thorough in everh post you reblog, it's a delight to see ^^

They are sooo important to each other, I don't think we appreciate enough how pivotal they are to each other's development, especially grovyle to dusknoir's. Still cant believe the ghost's parting word and thought was a a most thankful message to his old enemy, thanking him for giving his life meaning, for helping him not regret having truly *lived*, not just survived. I wish Dusknoir got some more dialogue after coming back to life, but those being his last words, in addition to him constantly referencing grovyle's speech, just goes to show how far he's internalized grovyle's words.

And the way Grovyle genuinely sees and reaches towards Dusknoir's inner goodness, *while* he's actively being betrayed, is beyond words. Grovyle loves his friends deeply and by this point he's clearly gone far enough to consider Dusknoir close to that status. Maybe Dusknoir protecting him from a blow hit too close to home and changed the dynamic in his eyes from "temporal ally" to just "ally". It can't be a coincidence that Grovyle opens up and explains his motives and ideas after Dusknoir takes the attack for him.

You just can't get one without the other in my mind, it's how they contrast and mirror each other, it's how the game switches the tables and flips their alignment so seamlessly. The thief-captor dynamic turning on its head once you see their true colors. How dusknoir appears more mature and put together thanks to his charm and social skills, only for him to end up learning and looking up to Grovyle, whose more developed life philosophy and selfless objective end up convincing Dusknoie to fight for something beyond himself.

Special Episode 5 is one of rhe best pmd chapters/story out there, and it's the most basic premise of Grovyle and Dusknoir working together. The writers developed them so well in conjuction that they can't be separated in my head.

But even then their contrasting personalities makes them so fun to put them into situations, despite the ares wjere they might overlap. they're both great but they belong together. And celebi just adds even more flavour to the mix by adding someone so radically different from them in her view and approach to things (seeing as shes one of the onlu characters explicitly in love, maybe even in priorities outside world-ending cataclysms xD). Future trio in post-canon is simply too rich, even the crumbs from PSMD links them together and that's enough for me.

(And also just in general the vibes are so good, we make fun of dusknoie for the "looking nervous having your back exposed to me" but grovyle's "you cling to me beyond expectation" and "i surrender, do with me as you will". BESIDES ALREADY THINKING ABOUR DUSKNOIR WAY MOEE THAN ANYONE ELSE.

he goes up to partner during the sunrise and goes "thinking about dusknoir?" whilw it turns out partner is thinking of how much they love the beach and their friend 😭😭 and then grovyle says in his letter "hey watch out for dusknoir bc he WILL BE BACK I KNOW HIM" and hero and partner jusr go "oh yeah that guy. remember that guy??" like THEY DONT REMEMBER WHO TRIED TO KILL THEM A DAY AGO?? 😭😭 why they dgaf lmao)

So yeah. I care about them a normal amount xD.

[weemssapphic]

in my head (series)

Chapter Ten: Happy Together?

Larissa Weems x f!reader

previous chapter | next chapter | series page

words: ~2.6k, ao3 link

chapter-specific warnings/content: none really, mentions of alcohol, mentions of wenclair

chapter summary: A surprise visit from Enid leads to a heartfelt conversation. Reader would love nothing more than to ask Larissa on a proper date.

A/N: After some planning and some plotting, it seems there will be two more chapters after this one - we're nearing the end and I've updated the total number of chapters in the series page on tumblr and on ao3 to reflect that (although I do reserve the right to change my mind if my writing takes me in another direction). There are a few minor things I want to wrap up, and I can't resist just giving these two a little fluff as they feel out the change in relationship. Anyway, let's get into it, I hope you enjoy!

The rest of your Sunday was spent in Larissa’s quarters. The relationship you’d shared before had given you immense joy - now, this newfound realization of Larissa’s feelings towards you was nothing short of catharsis. 

You spent the morning holding the blonde close, basking in the warmth and safety that her touch provided you. Eventually, when your stomach had growled for the third time and Larissa’s teasing had become relentless, the two of you set about scrounging Larissa’s kitchen for some scraps to eat - though you eventually settled on ordering take-out, which you ate sitting knee to knee on the floor of Larissa’s living room.

You hadn’t broached the subject of feelings or the future of… whatever this was again, wanting to keep the day light after an emotional start. But the knowledge that your feelings were returned, that Larissa could want something more from your relationship, filled you with a warmth that you carried with you back to your own quarters that night, and that gently lulled you to sleep, your thoughts full of Larissa Weems.

~~~

“You and Principal Weems are such a cute couple!” 

You heard the bubbly girl’s excited squeal before you saw her - then there was a flurry of blonde hair bounding towards you, stopping just shy of your desk.

Enid beamed at you, looking almost like an exact personification of the heart-eyes emoji in her excitement. “How long have you guys been together?”

“Woah, woah, slow down, Enid,” you laughed, closing your laptop and turning your attention fully towards your student. “Principal Weems and I aren’t together.”

Enid raised an eyebrow at you and you continued hastily. “Not really anyway, we’re still figuring things out.”

“Oh come on, you guys are totes in love. I ran a poll on my blog about the cutest couple at the Rave’N and you guys won. Unanimously!” 

“Miss Sinclair!” You felt yourself turn scarlet, which only made Enid grin wider. “Must I remind you that I am still your teacher?”

“Sorry, Ms. Y/L/N!” She raised her hands in mock-surrender. “We just don’t have many other open sapphic couples at Nevermore right now. You and Weems? You guys would be, like, the school’s power couple.” 

You couldn’t help the smile that crept up on your face at the young werewolf’s enthusiasm. At least you hoped that you and Larissa could one day be Nevermore’s ‘power couple’ - you kind of liked the idea.

“Is there a particular reason you came to see me during my office hours, Enid, or did you just want to pester me about my personal life?” you asked, still smiling.

Enid began to roll back and forth on the balls of her feet, her gaze flitting briefly about the room before landing back on your own. “I think I messed up with Wednesday,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Oh, Enid. Come, sit.” You stood and pulled a chair up to your desk, allowing the girl to join you. “What makes you think you messed up?”

“I don’t know, she won’t talk to me! I thought everything was fine at the Rave’N but then I tried to kiss her and now she’s avoiding me. She won’t even look at me!” Enid worked herself up further and further the more she spoke, her lower lip beginning to wobble.

“Have you tried talking to her about it?”

Enid huffed. “I tried but she keeps avoiding me. Can’t you just read her mind and tell me what she’s thinking? Please?”

“I don’t think anyone wants to read Wednesday Addams’ mind,” you chuckled, but your gaze softened at the earnest distress written across the werewolf’s face. “Enid, you know I can’t do that.” 

She nodded, sighing sadly. “I know… But how am I supposed to talk to her if I’ve barely seen her since the Rave’N?”

“You’re roommates, she can’t avoid you forever. At some point you’ll have to see her again, and then you can talk to her. Maybe you can catch her after class - I know you two have botany together.”

“How did you and Principal Weems handle it?”

“Principal Weems and I aren’t…” You let out a heavy sigh. “You might not want to use me and Principal Weems as an example.”

“Why not? You guys look so happy together… I want that.” Enid’s pout reminded you a bit of Larissa - it tugged at your heart.

“I’ll let you in on a little secret.” You smiled conspiratorially and leaned towards her. “Principal Weems and I started off as friends too, just like you and Wednesday. But things got kind of complicated for a bit, and it hurt both of us. A lot.”

Enid’s brows knit together in confusion and she cocked her head to the side, waiting for you to continue.

“You know why? Because we didn’t talk to each other. I really liked her, but I was too scared to tell her. And she was too scared to tell me that she liked me, too. So I know it’s really scary to tell Wednesday how you feel about her and have the potential of her rejecting you - but it’s going to hurt so much worse if you don’t tell her. And sometimes, it might be better to have a talk before you try to kiss her.” The irony of your advice wasn’t lost on you - hell, it might’ve been a lot easier for you if you hadn’t slept with Larissa before admitting to your feelings. But perhaps you could save Enid the trouble of making the same mistakes.

“But are you and Principal Weems okay now?”

You smiled. “I think so. And you and Wednesday will be okay, too. The girl’s one complicated piece of work but I can tell she cares about you - I don’t think she would’ve gone to the Rave’N with anyone else.”

Enid nodded hesitantly, cheeks flushing.

“Thanks, Ms. Y/L/N.” Then she rose from her chair and opened her arms - you mirrored her movements and hugged her tightly, matching the ferocity at which she squeezed you and only pulling back when she loosened her grip.

“Anytime, Enid. Thank you for coming to me with this.” You hoped Enid would have the courage to talk to Wednesday about her feelings - you hoped even more that you were right and Wednesday cared enough not to shut her out entirely.

Enid’s smile was back in place as she turned to leave your classroom.

“Keep me updated!” you hollered after her, falling back into your chair.

~~~

“Keep you updated on what?” Marilyn asked, entering your classroom as Enid disappeared from sight.

“Just a personal situation,” you replied. “What’s up?”

“What’s up? I should be asking you that. How’d it go?” Marilyn was grinning from ear to ear as she stepped up to your desk, placing both hands on the surface and leaning in eagerly.

“What are you referring to?” you asked cooly, playing idly with a pen that lay around on your desk, though the blush that warmed your cheeks gave you away in an instant.

The redhead rolled her eyes. “You know exactly what I’m referring to, Y/N. How are things with Larissa?”

“Good, I think.” You shrugged, lips curling up into a smile as you dropped your gaze absentmindedly to your desk.

“Just good? That’s all you’re going to give me?”

“We’re still figuring things out, okay? But that really was a lovely song you had the DJ play when we were cleaning up - thanks for that.”

“Someone had to do it. When are you seeing her again?”

“Oh.” You paused, stilling in your fidgeting with the pen. When were you going to see her again? You hadn’t addressed that, you just assumed… “I don’t know, actually. I thought I’d probably see her around school anyway.”

Marilyn looked at you incredulously and you felt a twinge of guilt swirl around in your stomach. “What?”

“The two of you are hopeless.”

“What do you mean?”

“Ask her out! If you don’t do it, I’ll do it for you.” Marilyn reached over the desk to grab your phone. You tried to stop her, but you weren’t fast enough - she held your phone just out of your reach, a devilish grin on her face.

“Don’t you dare,” you whispered.

She took a step back, unlocking your phone - you cursed yourself internally for having given her your passcode once while you were driving her into Jericho - and scrolling through your contacts.

“Marilyn,” you warned.

She began to type, sounding out the words as she went. “My dearest Larissa-”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you grumbled, standing and moving around the desk, reaching desperately for your phone.

“It would be be my utmost honor if you were to-”

“If I tell you I’ll go to her office right now and ask her, will you stop?”

Marilyn raised an eyebrow. “Right now?”

“Yes,” you huffed.

“Here.” She passed you your phone back and you glanced at the screen, rolling your eyes as you realized she’d only been typing in your Notes app. Well played, Marilyn, well played.

~~~ 

After wrapping things up in your classroom, you parted ways with the redhead, who reminded you of your promise with a cheeky smile. You headed towards Larissa’s office, a nervous excitement bubbling up within you. Knocking on the door, you poked your head in. 

Larissa sat behind her desk, engrossed in her work - she was reading something on her laptop, chewing away at her bottom lip as she scrolled. Her head shot up when she heard the door open, and a beaming smile spread across her face when she locked eyes with you.

“Hey, you got a minute?”

“Of course, darling, come in.” Larissa’s voice was warm, bordering on sultry, and you slipped inside the office, closing the door behind you. “I was just finishing up here - would you mind waiting by the fireplace for me?”

“Sure.” You took a detour by Larissa’s desk to press a soft kiss to her lips - the little squeak of surprise that the blonde let out before reciprocating the kiss made you feel you could melt straight into the floorboards with adoration.

Crossing to the little sofa by the fireplace and plopping down, you kicked your shoes off and tucked your feet underneath yourself. You listened as Larissa began typing rhythmically away at her keyboard, allowing your eyes to fall shut.

After a few minutes, the typing ceased and there was a soft click as her laptop was closed. Heels clicked on the hardwood floors, stopping just behind you, then gentle hands came to rest on your shoulders and began carefully kneading the muscles at the base of your neck.

You groaned softly, tilting your head forward to give Larissa further access to your neck and back. Her thumbs worked at the tense muscles, the intimacy of her touch melting away all of the day’s pent up stress.

Her fingers stilled in their ministrations and you whined softly, but then pillowy lips attached to the side of your neck, placing open mouthed kisses to the sensitive flesh. Warm breath caressed your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps and causing a shiver to run down your spine, all the way to your toes.

You turned your head to the side, desperate to feel those soft lips upon your own. Larissa could sense what you were searching for and pressed her lips to yours. The kiss was languid, sensuous, affectionate - you reveled in the safety that it wrapped you in.

“Could I entice you into sharing a bottle of wine with me?” Larissa murmured against your lips as she pulled back ever so slightly.

“I could be convinced,” you mumbled, chasing her lips with your own.

Larissa chuckled and pulled away, crossing her office to fetch a bottle and two glasses. She filled the glasses generously and handed you one, settling next to you on the sofa.

“What brings you by today?” Larissa’s eyebrow was raised, her voice light and filled with humor. 

“Do I need a reason to stop by?” You grinned at her, taking a sip of your wine.

“Not at all.” Larissa’s eyes glittered as she regarded you fondly over the rim of her glass. The way she looked at you through mascara-coated lashes - cheeks rosy, painted lips pulled into an affectionate smile - was different from how she used to look at you. Unbridled. Unguarded. There was no hiding the emotions that she displayed freely on her face - it was a new level of openness that you swore to never take for granted.

Larissa’s lips moved and you were so mesmerized by them that you missed the words that came out.

“Darling?” Larissa’s shoulders began to shake with mirth. “Are you with me?”

You suddenly felt warm all over as a blush spread across your cheeks.

“Larissa?” You weren’t sure why you were feeling nervous all of a sudden - it was clear Larissa harbored at least some sort of romantic feelings for you, so you didn’t think she’d say no, but you found your stomach fluttering anyway.

“Hmm?” Larissa’s smirk never left her face as she watched you struggle for words.

“Do you think maybe… I thought it would be nice if…” Way to be eloquent, you thought to yourself, cringing internally. Your mouth suddenly felt so dry. “Would you like to go on a date with me? An actual date?”

Larissa’s smirk turned into a bashful smile - her reply came out breathy and soft. “Yes. I would like that very much.”

“Cool… cool.” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Larissa seemed to notice this, her confidence growing.

“You seem nervous,” she teased, placing a hand on your knee and scooting closer to you.

“A little,” you breathed.

“Do I make you nervous?” Her voice was sultry, her eyes half-lidded, and you weren’t sure if it was the wine or her hand at the hem of your skirt but you felt dizzy.

“A little,” you mumbled, your eyes falling to her lips - plump, soft, warm, inviting lips, that curled up at the outer corners and parted slightly to reveal brilliant white teeth. You felt her hand inch up your skirt, caressing your inner thigh, and desire began to thrum within you.

Your phone began to buzz in your pocket - you tried to ignore it but it wouldn’t stop, and you let out a frustrated huff and pulled it out just enough to glance at it. 

Marilyn: Well?! Marilyn: How’d it go? Marilyn: Did you ask her?

You smiled in spite of yourself and looked up to see Larissa’s questioning gaze upon you. You tilted the phone to show her the messages, your heart doing a somersault when she let out a tinkling laugh.

Larissa smirked. “So how did it go?”

“I’d say well,” you whispered breathlessly.

Larissa laughed, cupping your cheek and pressing a kiss to your lips. “So when do I get the honor of accompanying you on this date?”

“How’s Saturday?”

“Saturday is perfect.” The smile that you received was blinding - you still couldn’t believe you were lucky enough to be the recipient of such a beautiful, heartfelt smile. “Will it be a surprise again?”

You felt your cheeks heat at the memory of your definitely not a date, date. “If you want it to be.”

“You know I didn’t think I enjoyed being surprised all that much but when it’s by you, I find I quite adore the mystery.” Her hand was still on your cheek, her thumb brushing against your lip, and you realized just then how thoroughly screwed you were. This woman had you wrapped around her little finger - you would do anything for her, you realized.

“Then a surprise it shall stay.”

x

[darbyoakana]

An Overlord's Tail - Chapter 1

An Overlords Tail Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10

Summary: Alastor X reader, F/M. You are new to the hotel staff working under Alastor. He spends his days pestering and tormenting you. But that pestering turns into a competition, one you want to win. Can you get the upper hand? Are you getting too close to him? Warnings: No real warnings for this chapter, just Alastor being a dick. This story is 18+, minors can fuck right off.

Other Notes: Thanks @sailorsmouth for the doodle and encouragement!

Darby Link Tree

___________________________________________

Chapter 1: A New Start

It had been three months since you walked out of your job at VoxTek and you were starting to get desperate. Without work to focus on, everything else felt so much harder. You had nothing but stress to distract you and it wasn’t enough. You pushed your self-loathing to the side.

You rushed out the door, wanting to get to the interview early. The last interview you had went poorly. Perhaps it was the interviewer, or maybe it was the fact that you were covered by entrails from an incident out front. Hell is a wild place, expect the unexpected. But you were set, nothing was going to ruin this. You adjusted your plastic poncho, surprise bodily fluids or parts were going to get you today. The joke, per usual, was on you. You should have also worn rain boots you thought, as a large gush of blood filled your shoes. You groaned. Watching the still-gushing corpse being dragged down the alleyway next to you. 

The cafe door's bell dinged as you walked in, pulling off the poncho. Despite pouring your shoes out on the curb, they still made a soggy squish as you walked. The cafe was pretty empty except for one person sitting at a table. You froze. No way, you thought, that can't be who I'm meeting

Vaggie sat nervously at the booth waiting. She had lost track of how many interviews she had gone through for this position. She had hired eight people so far and none of them had lasted longer than a week. Why did Alastor have to be such a pain in the ass? The hotel needed help, since the last extermination and the elimination of Adam, sinners started to accept the hotel. Their residency numbers had shifted dramatically and more staff was needed to keep things running. But for whatever reason, the one position that needed to be filled was constantly challenged by the person Vaggie was trying to help in the first place. Vaggie looked up and waved at you, you hesitantly approached the table. 

"Hi! So nice to meet you!" Vaggie got up and shook your hand. You both sat down. Typical interview discussions ensued, past experience, general information about the hotel, etc. You could see that Vaggie was eager, maybe a little stressed. 

"So.. what exactly is my job position?" you asked.

"Well.... there's a lot of miscellaneous work that needs to be done until we figure out a better workflow for the hotel while it goes through these changes. But for the most part you'll uh..." her tone became painful. " Be assisting Alastor...." Your facial expression dropped to concern.

"That's uh, a hell of a job..." you said. 

"Well...." Vaggie's teeth were gritting together, knowing she needed to be upfront about the position. "...based on your resume, I think you are the most qualified person so far. And the pay is great! It kinda has to be at this point.” She sighed “Look, we’re getting desperate." 

Oh, you were qualified alright, six years at VoxTek putting up with the most insane bullshit you could imagine. If it wasn't Velvette being an absolute cunt, it was Valentino being a fucking nightmare, Vox surprisingly was the least painful to work with. Which is why you ended up in the position you did. He eventually made you his assistant, to keep you convenient and close. And frankly, if you could put up with Vox's boo hoo "Alastor doesn't love me" baby bullshit, how hard could this job be? At best, Alastor doesn't like you and you keep looking for jobs. At worst... you die a terrible and painful death. At least then the job worry wouldn't be a concern anymore. Fuck it, you thought. 

"Yeah, I do see your point." you sighed. "Alright."

"Can you start tomorrow?" she asked eagerly

They had offered you a room at the hotel. You felt it best to endure the trial period Alastor seemed to be implementing before you gave up your crummy apartment. You laid in bed both excited and dreading tomorrow. Vox was going to lose his shit, you thought. You knew WAY too much about his personal life concerning Alastor and there was nothing in Heaven or Hell that would convince Vox you weren't doing this just to hurt him. But that was his problem. In honesty, it was the last place you wanted to work. You wanted so badly to be free of your current situation. Let things go and move on. You hoped this wouldn't blow up in your face. But most things did, it was Hell after all. 

You woke early, the Hotel was a good distance from your apartment. You took a cab to be safe on time. You didn't bother with the poncho, Alastor struck you as someone who would enjoy you being uncomfortable covered in drying sticky blood. The lobby was large, you hadn't been to the Hotel before and you didn't know what to expect but you found yourself impressed. Most of Vox’s footage was from the outside of the hotel. 

Vaggie waved you down and welcomed you. Introduced you to the staff one by one. Charlie was thrilled to meet you. But you got the feeling she felt that way about anyone and anything. Vaggie went over the floor plan of the hotel, kitchen, dining room, and so on. You scribbled away on a notepad. Sounded like the dress code was relaxed here, you felt relief. Vox always made you wear these business suit-like outfits that surely came from Val's studio, they were so tight and short. You didn't mind at the time, it made your unprofessional activities much easier, but the idea of wearing your own clothes sounded nice.

"Here is your desk. You'll be using the computer to log complaints from the guests, ordering supplies, typical stuff." She looked down to see a shattered computer screen. "UGHHH pendejo! I recommend saving a backup copy of everything you do, Alastor is still protesting the use of the computer and keeps destroying it." It didn't surprise you, you knew for a fact Vox spends all his free time spying on the Hotel. And any electronic device was an in for him. "ALASTOR!!!!" She yelled. 

"No need to shout" Alastor was right next to her. She jumped. 

"Stop doing shit like this!" she pointed to the computer. "You are sabotaging the hotel!" 

"I'm doing no such thing." He looked at his nails, uninterested. 

"Uuugghhhhh! .. Whatever." Vaggie pinched her fingers between her eyes and collected herself. She took a deep breath. "Alastor, this is ---" She was cut off by the sound of Charlie calling for her, tears gushing from her eyes. "Shit. Sorry! I'll be right back!" She gave you a look of concern, and you gave her a reassuring nod, letting her know you'd be fine without her. 

"I assume you are the new replacement." Alastor said flatly.

"And hopefully the last." you said cheerily. 

"Mmm. Hope. So fun to destroy!" he spun his microphone. "Very well then. Follow me." 

You followed him through the hotel as he listed item after item that needed to be done. You scratched away at your notepad. He was clearly trying to overwhelm you, it didn't however. It felt similar to the days that you assisted Velvette. Constant list of demands that were consistently changing without notice. 

"Actually, Alastor sir, there's something I'd like to discuss before we go any further. If that's alright?" 

He leaned towards you, head tilted. "And what might that be, my dear?" 

"One of the reasons Vaggie thought I would be a good fit for this position is my previous experience." 

"I'm afraid I haven't looked at your resume, inlighten me, will you?"

"Well.." It was awkward and somewhat painful to say, but you knew it needed to be done. "For the last six years I've been employed at V Tower, the last three years I was Vox's personal assistant." You had previously been very confident up until this point, but this was uncomfortable. "I figured it was best to tell you right away, rather than you finding out later. I didn't want it to look like I was hiding something." 

"Hmm. Very wise of you. Why pursue new employment?" 

"There were a lot of reasons. But my relationship with Vox had become... unprofessional." You pushed the image of Vox fucking you on his desk back down into the pit it came up from. "He's pushy and controlling, both as a boss and... whatever else we were. Always wanting more, pushing boundaries constantly. But bottom line, he broke my trust.” 

Alastor knew exactly what you meant. Vox had constantly pushed for more from Alastor. And being set in his ways, Alastor often felt like he and Vox were sheets of sandpaper slowly wearing away at each other. He of course didn't tell you any of this, there he remained with his unnerving smile. 

"Hmm." He leaned in closer to you and placed the tip of his claw under your chin, tilting your head to an uncomfortable angle. "Quite a dangerous move, switching sides like this." Alastor was a bit taller than you, but right now it felt like he towered over you, you knew he was trying to intimidate you. Radio static hissed in your ears. You stood your ground, staring into his deep eyes. Eyes that felt like dark endless pits. He snapped back to his smiling self, straightening up. "Well, enduring those buffoons, maybe you will last longer than the others!" He chuckled. "I do however appreciate the disclosure. Come, come." You took an exhale of relief and followed. You hoped this information would make you more valuable in the long run.

You knew a lot, more than you should, about the inner workings of VoxTek. Vox was arrogant, he liked to boast. Showing you the newest upgrades that haven't been released, all the ways he spied on the city. One thing in particular, you savored. He left you alone in his penthouse once, you weren't snooping per se, but tucked away was a small ..shrine? For lack of a better word. Where Vox kept all his trinkets and photos from when he and Alastor were "friends". You felt, should the need call for it, you could be very helpful to the Hotel if Vox became a bigger threat. Though guilt did run through you, despite the bad parts, you missed Vox. A lot of those things were told to you in confidence. And you didn't have any intention of sharing them unless Vox forced you to. You knew it was only a matter of time before he got wind of your new job. And no doubt in your mind, Vox would indeed be a personal problem. 

_______________________________________________

The days following would be a struggle, Alastor wanted his coffee and paper by 7 AM. The hotel was at least a forty-five-minute walk and you didn't have much left in your account to pay for a cab. A room at the hotel sounded more and more appealing. Entering the gates you picked up the paper, putting it under your arm. You set your bag down at your desk and headed to the kitchen. Pulling out your notepad, you flipped to the page where you wrote down instructions on how to make Alastor's coffee the way he liked it. Hopefully, he wasn't the type to throw it at you if it wasn't right. Velevette threw her coffee at you once, burning your arm. You were ready to make some new memories that didn't involve the trauma endured by the V's. 

Coffee, cloth napkins, and paper were placed on a tray. You contemplated folding the napkin like a swan but decided against it. It was a silly thought, and you didn't want to come off as trying too hard, even though that was what he set you up for, to try hard and fail. You tapped your nails against the tray as the elevator ascended up to Alastor's room. It was 6:58 AM. You stood outside his door watching the clock. Only at 7 AM, on the dot, did you set the tray down in front of his door. Alastor was sitting in his chair reading, ready to scold you for being early and found himself slightly impressed. Getting rid of you the typical way might be harder than he thought. All the others were so easy to frighten. But if there was anything Alastor loved, it was a challenge. He had been bored out of his mind playing this hotel game. Unable to leave and pursue more interesting ventures. And the rest of the core group of hotel residents were getting annoyed with his antics. Maybe you could entertain him for a little while. Surely there had to be something that would break you. He waited for the elevator to descend before retrieving the tray. 

You snuck into the kitchen to make yourself some coffee, before anyone came in to make breakfast. You made yourself at home at your desk. The drawers were a mess from the previous employees. You sipped your coffee and organized your papers. Looking over previous orders for supplies and food, trying to get an idea of how much the hotel goes through monthly.

"Why good morning!" Alastor said, suddenly at your side, bent over, his face a bit too close to yours. You tried your best not to jump, you had a feeling that would be happening often. "At your desk already? Don't you want to join your new comrades at the breakfast table? Hmm?" 

"Good morning to you too sir. No, not today. Until I have a full understanding of my schedule, I don't want to add anything unnecessary to my plate." 

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, as they say." 

"I'm pretty sure that's a con cereal companies used to sell sugar to children." Alastor held in a laugh.  "Coffee is fine for now. Speaking of-" You looked up at him. "How was your coffee this morning? Did I make it correctly?" 

"It was passable I suppose." It was the best he could do without lying and without giving you praise. "There are some errands I need to be done." He handed you a list. Skimming over it, it seemed doable to get done by the end of the day. "I want it done by noon." 

"...noon?!" It was already 9 AM, here it was, an impossible task. Setting you up to fail. Maybe you could use some of your third-party contacts from VoxTek? "Alright.. I'll see what I-"

You were both suddenly interrupted by the boisterous sounds coming from the dining room. Leaning forward over your desk, you could see Charlie was singing. 

"Hmm. Glad I skipped breakfast...." you said flatly. You didn't see it but Alastor smirked. 

The tasks given proved to be a bit difficult. All things Alastor could have easily done himself, but where was the fun in that? You did take advantage of some of your previous contacts, which helped immensely. You took care of a few calls before heading to the city. Most of the errands were pick-ups and drop-offs. One task, in particular, you'd have to call in a favor for. Meanwhile, Alastor was eavesdropping, hoping to see you struggle and stress. 

"Frankie, listen, if this order isn't here by noon, I will personally come down there, pull your intestines out your asshole, and festoon them along the fence of this establishment. Do you understand?" Frankie babbled in your ear. "Great, I'm so glad we could come to an agreement. As always, a pleasure to work with you." 

Alastor couldn't help but have a genuine smile on his face, he wouldn't admit it, but he liked how you got things done. Threatening someone in such a creative way delighted him. 

You hoofed it around the city for hours, practically running from destination to destination. You were exhausted and sweaty when you arrived back at the hotel. It was a few minutes before noon, just in time to see Frankie's delivery truck be unloaded. 

"In the kitchen, please. Thanks, fellas!" You yelled to them.

Your arms were full as you dumped everything on your desk. Gently folding Alastor's dry cleaning over your chair, stacking some of the items. Including a few books. How does this help the hotel? You thought. Hoping these kinds of tasks would end once Alastor was bored with you. 

"Well- color me impressed. All with five minutes to spare!" Alastor appeared in front of your desk. "Though it does seem like something is missing. That's too bad. I had such high hopes for you, dear." 

You gave him the biggest shit-eating grin you could muster and pointed at the two men coming through the door hauling a freshly slaughtered deer to the kitchen. If you weren't already intensely looking at him you would have missed Alastor's eye twitch. Someone might as well handed you a trophy. It took everything in you to not showboat as you followed the delivery men into the kitchen.

The deer was laid on the large island in the middle of the kitchen. You signed their papers and the men were gone. Alastor, suddenly in an apron, was ready to go. A black tentacle sliced its head off with a sharp crack. 

"Hold this." 

He handed you the head. You held it by the antlers, dripping blood onto the floor by your feet. You stood there for a while, watching Alastor prepare. Realizing that he didn't need your help, this was just another task to pain you. The head was heavy and your arms were getting tired. As you adjusted, trying to give your arms a break, you felt the antlers texture in your hands, it reminded you of a gaudy hotel in Montana your parents took you to in the summer of '92. 

"If you do this often, which I get the feeling you do- you could save the antlers and make a chandelier. It would look good by the bar."

"Hmmm." Alastor glanced at you as he removed the skin. It wasn't a bad idea, however, he could just make one just like he made the bar itself. But an opportunity was found. "Very well then." He snapped his fingers and the head fell off the antlers. Landing on your feet with a splat. Filling your shoes with coagulating blood. 

You groaned. What the fuck, were these shoes cursed? Blood squished between your toes. The sensory overload made you want to scream. You swallowed it down. Instead, letting out a loud sigh. You sat the antlers down on the counter and picked up the head. Alastor couldn't help but to cackle.

"So glad you are amused." You said flatly. 

"Oh indeed I am." 

In truth, he was. But also disappointed. He didn't get so much as a yelp out of you. A measly groan? He was losing his touch. But the clear discomfort the drying blood in your shoes provided would have to be enough. At this point, the head you clutched to your chest was dripping down your front. You greatly regretted wearing a skirt today. Alastor watched the blood drip down your legs from the corner of his eye. Pooling further in your shoes. 

You stood there for what felt like ages. How long did it take to gut a deer? He couldn't be using the whole thing, could he? What was he even making? You got tired of standing and hopped on the counter, hugging the head now in your lap. You were already covered in blood, it didn’t really matter now that the base of the severed head was soaking into your lap. Thankful your skirt was at least black. Alastor would have to try harder than this to drive you out. He’d previously been relying too heavily on his reputation and the fear people felt from his presence. He would have to get more creative with you, how fun. 

"Hiiiiiii guuuuuuuys!" Charlie popped her head into the kitchen, breaking your concentration. "There is a short group activity we are about to do! Would you like to join us? " She glances at you, then at the glob of sticky at your feet. "Mayyyybeee we could get you some slippers...? Alastor?"

"You may go." You’d rather hold the deer, but you weren’t about to let him know that. 

You dropped the head in the sink with a thud and a squelch. Alastor smirked, enjoying the squishing sound your shoes made as you walked away. You were grateful to have clean feet and warm slippers. But the short group activity wasn't short at all. It had been several hours at this point and the deer head didn't seem so bad now. You sat slumped in a chair, waiting for your turn to share your “feelings”. Charlie had sung two songs now, she was a lovely person but this activity was making you want to claw your eyes out. You sat up straight when you saw the kitchen door open, pretending to be engaged in the activity. God forbid Alastor to catch on that this was torment for you, he’d end up signing you up for every activity Charlie came up with.  

The rest of the day was filled with busy work. By the time 5 PM rolled around you were exhausted. You grabbed your jacket and purse, heading out the front door. By the time you got home, you felt like you were going to collapse. Just get through this week, you thought, things will level out after that. You trudged up the four flights of stairs and as you approached your apartment you noticed a note on your door. EVICTION NOTICE in bold print. You ripped it off the door and crumpled it in your hand.

Great. 

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 36: Atychiphobia

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev || Next

Mikey's reality is thick fog when he wakes up. He's dizzy, confused, disoriented... and he feels sick. He isn't sure why until he smells disinfectant, and feels cold linoleum floor beneath his claws.

He sees Leo at his feet.

Mikey shakes. He trembles. He tastes... blood. He has remnants of blood speckling the tips of his fingernails. His muscles are tense, his back aches, his head spins. He hears clapping.

"Well done!" Dr. Chaplin applauds. "Such a good job, Mikey. I've truly missed watching you work."

Mikey turns slowly and sees his biggest fear come to fruition. Raphael and Donatello are crumpled together on the floor. Donnie's limp figure is wheezing and rasping, several scratches and thin gashes cross his plastron. Raph has a lump growing on his forehead, and a trail of red trickles over his closed eye from the wound hidden under his mask... his arm and ankles are also bleeding, but the wounds found there are gushing profusely. I-it looks like teeth marks...

Mikey's knees buckle underneath him. He crumbles to pieces as the room spins around him.

Please be a dream, please be a nightmare, please be a hallucination, please --

Mikey feels a hand pat his head gently, stroke him like a cat or a pet or a thing. He looks up, tears blurring his already swimming vision.

"You did good, Mikey. Very good. I'm truly impressed," Dr. Chaplin says with a twisted, almost kind smile as he lifts up Mikey's face into the light. "Now we can continue. And you have your family with you! How exciting..."

Mikey can't stop crying. He tries, he knows the punishments that will follow if he can't stop. Dr. Chaplin wipes away a tear and clicks his tongue.

"Tsk tsk, Mikey. I wonder why you're so upset by this. I would have thought you'd be used to it, after all... you're my perfect monster."

As I've told you before, Instinct whispers. But you had to see the proof. And now here it is. How does it feel? Why could you not accept it before? Why did you always have to fight me, why couldn't you understand... and now, the pain is worse. You should have listened to me. You should never have tried to fight it.

Mikey's breath freezes in his lungs. His world becomes nothing more than static and numbness as he weeps and weeps and weeps for eternity.

"This is very unprofessional of you," Dr. Chaplin groans, releasing Mikey. "I won't have this..."

He turns on the device again.

Mikey is lost, his tears ceasing immediately as he calms, his mind silenced. He breathes in, straightens, and awaits orders.

Dr. Chaplin wipes his his tear-tainted hands on his lab coat.

"You're almost not worth it. Now, let's get packing... We have much work to catch up on."

.

.

.

April runs through the hall and jumps into the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor, where she'll meet Casey. Once inside, she tries contacting the guys again.

"Hello?! Leo? Raph? Donnie? ANYBODY THERE?!"

There's nothing but static.

"No, no, no, this isn't good!" she moans, pacing anxiously in the lift. "Can't this thing go any faster?!"

The doors eventually slide open, and April runs out, speeding down the hall until she finds Casey Jones Jr. pacing in a similarly anxious manner inside Professor Honeycutt's apartment room.

"Case!"

"April!" he shouts as he jumps over the demolished door and rushes to her. "I've checked every square inch of the place -- his drawers are ransacked, his clothes and toothbrush are missing, but all his other stuff is still here! Pictures, books, blankets --"

"I've tried calling the guys over and over again, but there's no response!" April cries. "I knew this must've been a trap!"

"Wait, I have their trackers on my phone!" Casey chimes in, pulling out the handheld device and checking in on the program. "Donnie gave me a link to the program a few days ago..."

A blue and red dot light up on the screen. Casey shifts the perspective from bird's eye to level, a 3D model of the building to show which floor they are on.

"...It looks like they're moving to the basement?" He says, showing her the feed.

"They're all together?"

"I think so. Maybe that means they're okay!" Casey offers, trying to stay optimistic.

"Then why wouldn't they answer their comms?" April contests. "Something's up. We gotta get down there!"

The two rush back to the elevator and slip through the emergency exit in the top. Casey attaches his grappling hook to the bottom of the box and they plummet down the shaft, with April holding onto him for dear life and only slowing to a halt halfway down. Casey's grapple clicks with a hiss -- they've run out of cord.

"What now, future boy?" April chastises.

"Now, we repel!" he replies, swinging to the side wall, disconnecting the line from the elevator and reconnecting it to the pipes and bars lining the walls.

The two slide down the sides until finally reaching the bottom. He disconnects the hook again as April prys the exit vent open. The duo crawl inside, hiding within the vent shafts as they try to find their family.

"This is weird," Casey whispers, looking through a small opening. "Leo said that the basement had Krang stuff inside it, even the Krang Sister was being held down here!"

"So what?" April hisses back.

"There's nothing here, just a bunch of crates and boxes..." Casey remarks.

And it's true -- the entire basement is virtually empty, save for a few dust bunnies and empty shelves.

"Well, they are moving out," April reminds him. "They probably already got to that stuff. Keep moving, we gotta find the guys! Which way do we go?"

Casey pulls out his phone.

"Left!"

The two continue to crawl forwards, following the trackers until they hear voices.

"This one's heavy! Someone gimme a hand!"

April and Casey gasp in horror when they see their friends, chained and cuffed with collars on their necks, being thrown into cages and placed on rolling carts. Each one seems to be unconscious. Raph's arm and ankle are bandaged, blood seeping through the gauze. Donnie has bruises across his neck, and seems to be breathing raspily. Leo has a giant welt on his head.

Two more guards approach and help to lift Raphael's unconscious body into a cage, folding his limbs over his chest so that he can fit.

"It's too small for him..."

"Well, it's not like we have anything bigger."

"Hurry up and finish with the rest!"

A guard starts to remove Donnie's battle-shell, when there comes a whimpering cry.

April turns and sees Mikey -- chained by the neck and several feet away, watching in anguish. He pulls against the collar, scraping the skin around his neck as he does.

"Shut up!" a voice shouts, as a man in a lab coat storms over to him with a taser. "Or do you want me to hurt your brothers more than they already are? Hmm??"

Mikey cowers, whining as he sadly moves away, curling up by the pillar he's chained to.

"Good. Now behave, and maybe we'll let you ride with them for the move."

Mikey sits in his corner, tears streaming down his face as he watches them pull the battle-shell off Donnie and toss his body into another cage. The use just as little grace and tact with Leo.

"I have to say, you did an excellent job detaining them, Mikey," the man says with a wicked grin. "I know Dr. Chaplin was very proud of you. Did he tell you what you did? Do you know how you captured them?"

Mikey buries his face in his hands, turning away. He doesn't want to listen.

"He told me some of the details. I must say, asphyxiating the purple one? Genius move. The blue turtle looks pretty worse for ware, as well. I do hope you didn't break his skull... And I wonder if the big red one will ever walk right again after this! He seems strong enough to persevere. And that's another thing! You were up against three of your own kind, and you still defeated them!" he laughs. "Oh, my dear Mikey, how I have missed your little shows. I am so disappointed that I couldn't witness your latest one. Ah, but I'm sure you'll be showing us plenty more when we mutate--"

"Dr. Timothy?" one of the guards calls out. "We're ready to load the prisoners."

"Oh, well, it looks like it's time to go now," the man sighs. "Now, are you going to be a good little monster and go quietly? Or do I have to tell the big mean guards to use lethal voltage on your family to help convince you?"

April gasps in horror, slapping her hands over her mouth in an attempt to keep silent.

Mikey whimpers and nods, slowly sitting up so Dr. Timothy can unchain him.

"Very good."

Dr. Timothy unlocks the chain and attaches a lead to the collar. Mikey follows behind him with little resistance, despairing as he's brought to a cage. He pauses beside it, watching as Dr. Timothy unlocks the door and swings it open.

"You know what to do," the scientist says, smiling cruelly.

Mikey slowly climbs into the cage, laying down as the door is closed and locked, and the four prisoners are carted away into the loading dock.

"They're taking them away," April gasps. "They must be moving them to the new site! Staten Island!"

"We have to follow them," Casey decides.

"I'll follow," April decides. "You go get Cass, Splints, and Barry. I have a feeling we'll need reinforcements."

"What about you? Will you be okay?"

"Are you kidding? You're talking to 'Commander' April O'Neil! Master of stealth, queen of espionage! I've infiltrated the Foot Clan so many times, I'm practically more a member than your mom was!" she jokes, before going serious again. "But don't tell her I said that."

"Alright then," Casey says with a nod. "Be careful... I'll see you soon."

CJ shimmies backwards, disappearing through the vents to get out the way he came. April continues through the ducts, finding a small opening she can descend through. Grabbing a lab coat and gloves, she disguises herself and attempts to climb into the van where her reptile bros are held...

"Hey, you there! What do you think you're doing?"

April jumps and turns. A young woman stares her down.

"That truck is for experiments only. You don't have clearance to ride along," she growls.

"O-oh, right! Sorry, I just figured someone should watch over them... y'know, just in case they make trouble?" April stammers.

"The EPF security team will handle them," the woman states. "Scientists and interns ride separately. Come on, let's go."

April sighs and looks back at the van. Mikey peeks up at her, eyes wet with tears and trying to convey some kind of plea. April signs to him quickly.

'B R B'

"Move it or lose it!" the woman shouts.

"Oh, right! Coming!" April yipes, going after the lady. "Sorry, miss... uh..."

"The name's Abigail," the scientist explains grimly. "Dr. Abigail Finn."

.

.

.

April sits uncomfortably by the woman as the doors to the vehicle close behind them with a loud slam.

I hope I know what I'm doing, she thinks to herself.

"So, uh..." April starts, her voice cracking slightly. "Ahem. What got you into the business?"

"The science," Dr. Finn answers plainly. "I love biology and genetics. Ever since I was a little girl. And this is the only place that lets you push science to the limits."

"Oh, really?" April asks. "Tell me more! What kinds of science have you been able to do?"

"Oh, you know. Studies in chemistry, anatomy, the works... we've been focusing on the benefits of rewriting DNA."

"R-r-rewriting?" April gulps. "Doesn't that strike you as... I dunno, a little invasive? Maybe cruel?"

"It doesn't matter what you think, or even what I think," Dr. Finn replies. "It only matters what we can do. And we can do it. Imagine all the wonders that can come from this -- we can edit out displeasing hereditary traits and genetics! We can alter a person's genital code and change the person altogether, to make them healthier, stronger. This will do wonders for the pharmaceutical community, plastic surgeons, you name it!"

"But... couldn't it also be used for nefarious purposes?"

Dr. Finn sighs.

"I suppose... people could use our research to create lethal weaknesses in an entire generation if they wanted. Make everyone deathly allergic to a common substance, or give them weaker immune systems--"

"I was thinking more along the lines of human experimentation," April clarifies.

"Oh, that. I will admit, it's not exactly my cup of tea. But in the end, all I really care about is the science."

"No matter who gets hurt along the way?"

"Oh, you must mean 'Mikey'," Abigail realizes. "Strange creature. Caught him trying to sneak in several weeks ago. Dr. Timothy started the mutations process without my input, but I did have my say afterwards."

"Your say..?"

"Well, I don't mean to brag, but I am highly responsible for the serums, formulas, and procedures that were used in redesigning 'Mikey's DNA."

April swallows hard.

"Reaaaaaaaaally?" she chuckles. "How interesting..."

"It really is very interesting," Dr. Finn agrees. "But what's even more interesting is that Mikey was the only successful mutation we made. Every other subject was prone to insanity and slow deterioration of skills. Their genetics just simply seemed to fall apart from the strain. But not Mikey!"

She takes out her phone and shows April a scan of Mikey's DNA.

"We never did find out how, but Mikey's genetic structure showed signs of being made specifically to deal with mutation and extreme change. It could adapt in ways I never imagined! You see, his unchanged DNA was the key we were missing!"

Abigail sighs loudly and slouches.

"Unfortunately, that pig-headed idiot Timothy decided to mutate him before I could get a proper sample of his DNA. But now, we have three more subjects with untainted code!" she squeals. "I can finally finish my work!"

"Could it be possible to... undo the mutations?" April asks warily.

"I suppose... it's possible," Dr. Finn speculates. "With the right formulas. And if you had an understanding of what the DNA was like before. Why do you ask?"

April gulps again and shrinks inside her fake lab coat.

"I, uh... love science?"

Dr. Finn glares down at her before smiling.

"Well, you're in the right place. The TCRI have full government funding, and our new location is much more private!"

April looks out the window and sees a tall building, placed far from the towns, resting near the shores.

"You know, they built it here because of some crazy readings they tracked the day of the invasion. And some even say that the mutants landed here, too..."

April knows this place. It's where she helped pick up the guys after they got Leo back...

April takes in a deep breath as the trucks pull up and drive inside the underground parking garage.

I reeaaaaaaalllllly hope I know what I'm doing...

Prev || Next

[sissylittlefeather]

This is the Story:

Chapter 2

A/N: Not every chapter will come this quickly! I just happened to have the day to write, so here it is! ICYMI, this features the OC Grace Dubois (doo-bwah) and Elvis Presley in 1973. She has joined him for his Vegas residency in August to ghost write his book. Want to read about all of that in Chapter 1? Here is the link:

Chapter 1

Warnings: cussing, mentions of smoking, period-appropriate sexism from Elvis, no smut yet, but it's coming 😏

Song inspo:

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I recorded my first song for personal use. I never intended to release anything..."

******

Once she gets Elvis talking, it's hard to get him to stop. He's standing up acting out a scene from something that happened in 1956 and laughing when the Colonel comes in to fetch him to get ready for his show that night. Grace is laughing despite herself. His animated and chaotic method of storytelling is certainly entertaining.

"My boy, I think that's enough for one day. Let's let Ms. Du-boys rest for the evening." She cringes at the mispronunciation of her name, but decides it's not worth it, standing up to leave.

"Dubois." She whips her head around to Elvis. She did not expect him to correct the Colonel either. He smiles warmly again and she feels her cheeks flush.

No, Grace. Keep your distance. She gives him a smile, but tries to make sure it's devoid of any real emotion.

"Thank you, Mr. Presley, for your time today. Same time tomorrow?" His face falls at her use of his last name. Maybe she'll be different tomorrow when it's just them. But why does he want the familiarity so badly? He nods.

"Sure. Same time tomorrow." She follows the Colonel out and gets on the elevator to head back to her room to call Wendy. It'll be bedtime before too long, so she better call quickly.

******

They continue in this pattern for the next week. Grace comes up to the penthouse and Elvis tells her about his life. Even after a week, though, he's still only talking about his time before the army. She can tell he's enjoying reminiscing and doesn't want to get into anything serious. A couple of times, he tells her a story she's already heard, but she lets it go and just listens. Something tells her this is what he's really been needing: someone to just talk to. And the way his eyes light up with childlike energy when he gets excited is exceedingly charming. Several times, she wants to tell him a story about herself and twice she starts to. He sits down eagerly to listen, but she stops herself with an apology for interrupting. His disappointment is palpable, but he doesn't want to push her away again. By the end of the week, he's looking forward to the sound of her soft knock on his door.

On Friday, there's something different about her. Her eyes are sparkling and she smiles more. Elvis is enthralled by her liveliness. When the time comes for her to leave he turns to her and does something even he doesn't expect.

"Come to my show tonight." She laughs before she realizes he's serious.

"Wait, you're kidding right? It's been sold out for months. And besides, I can't."

"Oh, yes you can, I'll find a seat for you. Hell, I'll make one for you, honey, just come to the show." Her heart skips when he calls her honey. He hasn't done it all week, even after she decided she would let him.

"I'm sorry; I really can't. My daughter is coming tonight. That's why I've been in such a good mood. I haven't seen her in a week." He sits back a little.

"Daughter?"

"Yes. Her name is Wendy. She's 6. Why?"

"Oh, nothin', I just thought you said you hadn't been married."

"I haven't been."

"Then how...?"

"I had a fiancé. When we figured out I was pregnant a week before the wedding, he left." She's not sure why she's telling him about this. It's not a thing she normally tells people. But all the time they've spent alone together in this room has started to get to her. For a second, she forgets he's a subject and not a friend.

"You... before you were married?" In a second, his whole tone changes. His southern Christian values come out to play and he's not sure what to make of the woman sitting in front of him. Then, he notices that her cheeks are red and her eyes are glassy again.

"Right. Because I suppose you were a virgin when you got married?" Her voice is tight in her throat. She will not let him make her cry. The truth of how her daughter came to be has haunted her for the better part of her adult life. She is not going to let this man, of all people, make her feel less than because of it.

"That is totally different."

"How? How the fuck is that different?" Her cussing catches him off guard too. Aside from one "damn" she's been nothing but a lady the whole time and now here she is talking like one of his army buddies.

"I don't know, honey, but it is."

"It absolutely is not, you misogynistic pig." Her chest is heaving as she tries to keep her tears in her eyes and not on her face.

"I can't believe you! Who are you?" He feels the anger swelling inside him. It's like she's been lying to him this whole time about who she is. She stands up and slams her notebook on the table.

"Who am I? You are such a fucking hypocrite, Mr. Presley. You think all women should be virgins until they get to you? Ha! Even if that was the case, I would die a virgin before I would let you touch me." She's shaking with rage at this point and the tears start rolling down her cheeks.

He's wracked with hurt, betrayal and anger, and yet, when she cries, something inside him needs to comfort her. He takes a half step towards her and then realizes what he's doing and what she's just said.

"Not a problem, honey. I wouldn't touch you even if you were a virgin. Middle-aged librarians aren't really my style." He spits it at her with all the venom of his hurt feelings and confusion over his inner struggle. Her mouth drops open and she stands there for a while with tears ruining the front of her blouse.

"You really are a fucking asshole." She gathers her things haphazardly and shoves them in her purse.

"Goodbye, Elvis."

She practically runs out the door, slamming it behind her and going straight to the elevator. She smashes the down button over and over, reeling from the conversation that just took place. The things he said to her have rattled her to her core, but what sticks out the most is his question: "who are you?" Why did he say that? Why does he care who she is? Finally, the elevator comes. She steps inside to go back to her room and freshen up before picking up Wendy and Paulette, the nanny, at the airport.

Back in the room, Elvis notices she left her notebook on the table. He grabs it and runs out of the room to catch her and give it back, but the elevator doors close just as he gets to the lobby. He turns back into the room and throws the notebook as hard as he can at the wall across from him.

"FUCK." He yells and drops onto the couch with his head in his hands. He's never felt this conflicted before. As much as he should be outraged and disgusted by the fact that she has a daughter out of wedlock, he's really not. And that makes him angry. Angry that he's more hurt by her keeping parts of herself from him than anything else. Angry at himself for being so cruel to her when he isn't in any place to judge. Angry that this is going to come between them. The last thought makes him take his glasses off and pinch the bridge of his nose. Why does he care that something might come between them when there is no them in the first place?

He throws his glasses at the wall too and they break into pieces and land on the floor with the notebook. When he goes to pick them up, he notices the flurry of little notes that fell out of book when it hit the wall. He looks around the room, as if to check it anyone is watching, and then carefully picks up all of the notes. He knows he shouldn't read them. Knowing her opinion of him, they will probably just make him more angry. They're in his hand when he gets back to the couch, though, and his curiosity gets the better of him. Her handwriting is round and loopy and he thinks of her pretty little hands, one with a pen and the other with a cigarette. He shakes his head and reads the first one:

"He is unfailingly humble in his expression of how he came to be as talented as he is..."

He flips to another one:

"His fierce affection for his friends is both endearing and inspiring..."

And another:

"His boyish excitement when he talks about something he loves is electric, drawing you in to care about anything..."

His breath catches a little as he keeps reading:

"Sitting here with him is less like basking in the light of the King of Rock'n'Roll and more like listening to a childhood friend catch you up on the important happenings in their life..."

And the last one is just a collection of words:

"Compassionate, energetic, loyal, heartfelt, genuine, warm, giving..."

He swallows the lump in his throat and looks towards the door. He has to find a way to get her to come back.

******

Chapter 3 coming soon!

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