#i think more people should admit and enjoy his sense of spectacle

[everyitachi]

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"I WANTED TO MAKE SURE YOU WERE OKAY"

Another story with him cause I love this character so much

I hope you like it!

General Acacius watched from the platform on the third day of the games at the Coliseum. That year's Gladiators promised to be some of the best there had been in a long time, especially her.

At first he was surprised to see her because, who would have expected that, under the helmet of an ancient fallen warrior, there would be a woman? From the first day she had shown that her ferocity and intensity in the arena were not comparable to that of any man, which was why the public adored her.

Every time she came out they cheered her name, a name that Marcus knew by heart due to the number of times he had heard it, not only in the Coliseum, but outside its walls, and even in other cities of the Empire.

Her name was Xune, although the people had given her the nickname "Blood Dancer." After seeing her fight, he knew why.

She moved with such precision when dodging her opponents' attacks that it was as if she were dancing, her feet seemed not to even touch the ground. As for the blood… well, let's say the word speaks for itself.

There were other gladiators who could only kill their rival with a direct sword blow to the neck.

She was different.

The dancer preferred to get her hands dirty, or rather her feet.

The fighter hid a pair of tiny blades inside her sandals, and when another gladiator managed to take the weapons from her hands, they would kick directly at their opponents' vital organs: the heart, the place in the neck where the pulse beat, or the eyes.

After ending the life of her rival, she would remove the blades from between her toes and bow to the platform where, apart from the people closest to the emperor, he was.

It was during one of those fights where their eyes met, and Marcus could see in her eyes something he had never seen in any other gladiator: serenity. There was something in the way she looked, moved, attacked that made him believe she enjoyed it.

It was the first time he had seen a gladiator who was not resigned to being there, on the contrary, he felt comfortable and at ease with it.

That day's games ended normally, but the next day when he saw her come out through the doors again, he knew something was wrong. He glanced sideways at the emperor, who was too busy watching the gladiators to notice his gesture.

The woman's opponent that day was a robust man, taller than her. She dodged a couple of his sword blows, but the third one hit her squarely in the shoulder, making a deep cut that soon began to bleed profusely.

She looked away and tried to plug the wound by putting her hand on it, but it was useless, the blood was still flowing strongly.

Her opponent attacked, she blocked the blow by placing the sword in front of his face. She pushed up to get rid of him.

The force of the action made him take a step back, which gave her enough time to throw a straight cut to his sternum. The man narrowly dodged it, although he did not escape taking a good cut, bigger than the one he had given her.

They fought for a couple more minutes, the woman's previously agile movements slowing down more and more due to the loss of blood she was suffering.

The man kicked her in the chest, knocking her to the sand. The crowd roared loudly, excited by the spectacle, while Marcus held tightly to the armrests of his ornate chair.

She looked at the emperor, who had a serious expression on his face. As if he had sensed that she was watching him, he looked away to connect with hers.

"What do you think, general?" He nodded at the woman. "Should I let her live?"

"The people adore her, my lord," he answered, trying not to let the tension he was feeling show. "If you allow me, it would even be disrespectful for you to order her execution. Rome would never forgive you."

"I like the way you think, Acacius," he admitted. "I will listen to what the people have to say." He stood up from his place to look at the citizens who were waiting for his verdict. "People of Rome!" he exclaimed. "What is your will?"

"Life! Life! Life!" they chanted loudly.

The emperor nodded before stretching out his arm and giving the thumbs up sign. Marcus breathed easier knowing his decision. He looked at the sand and saw how the other man helped him up.

They may have been gladiators, but at the end of the day they were all human beings, and as such they had to support each other if they wanted to survive.

-You must treat his wound properly - he commented, drawing the emperor's attention - if it is not done properly he could become ill and die

-My star gladiator is not going to die, general - the emperor replied with a condescending smile - you can rest easy - he shrugged - if you wish, I will allow you to go see her when the games are over.”

-“It won't be necessary, my lord,” he murmured firmly. “She's just a slave.”

-“She's getting closer to being a free woman,” Geta added. “If she keeps putting on shows of this calibre, I'll personally make sure that she gets the wooden sword as soon as possible,” he gestured towards the Praetorians stationed at his side. “Escort the general to the gladiators' cells,” he said. “Let him talk to the Dancer for as long as he wants, he's earned it.”

“Yes, sir,” the guards replied, looking ahead again.

When the games ended that day, the Praetorians escorted the general to the place where the gladiators were. They opened the cell with an iron key so that he could go inside. The girl watched him for a few moments, before looking away at the wall in front of her.

-Leave us alone - he asked the guards-

They moved away from the door a couple of steps to give them some privacy. Marcus's gaze fell on the sharp lines of his face and the blood and dust that dirtied his face. He looked away at the wound on his shoulder, which despite being clean, was bleeding again.

-I hope not…

-Why have you come? –she interrupted him, looking up at him, her dark eyes staring him firmly- gladiators don't receive visitors –she looked him up and down- and even less from someone like you

-I am General Marcus Acacius…

-I know who you are –she intervened again- all of Rome knows it, I would even dare to say that people beyond Rome know it

-There is nothing beyond Rome –he answered, looking at her intensely-

-Of course there is, I've been there –he said- not long ago I had my own ship –he shook his head- that was until a woman I considered a friend betrayed me –she explained- she sold me to the highest bidder, and I ended up here –she pointed at him with her head- fighting to entertain a man like you in a place where I don't belong

-And where do you belong?

-I don't know - she admitted looking at him with determination - what I do know is that not here, not in this place where power and gold matter more than the needs of the people

-That's not true - he retorted - our armor may be made of gold, but that doesn't mean we don't care about Rome and its people - he took a deep breath and changed the subject - the emperor is satisfied with your performance, he said that if you continue like this he will grant you the wooden sword very soon

-It's a relief to hear it - he said making a notch in the wall with the tip of his sword - this is the thirtieth day I've been here - he murmured looking at the marks on the rock - it seems like it was yesterday when I arrived - he thought out loud, before turning back to him - you still haven't told me why you're really here

-I wanted to make sure you were okay - he confessed pointing to his shoulder - that man is very skilled with the sword, you could have lost your arm

-But I haven't - he said looking at the place where his neck and their arms were joined together- the doctor has done his job well –he moved his arm slowly- it almost doesn't hurt anymore

-I'm glad to hear it –he answered with a warm smile accompanied by a nod- I have to go, the emperor is waiting for me –he walked to the door- I hope the Gods watch over you in tomorrow's games

-Xune –he said before he closed the gate behind him, he turned to look at her- now that we know each other you will have to call me something, right?

He nodded, resting the palm of his hand on her chest. -In that case call me Marcus -he said this time closing the door completely- I have a good feeling about you, Xune -he murmured, the consonant sliding down his tongue in a serpentine manner like a river overflowing with fresh water- if you ever need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to let me know

-The truth is that a pen and parchment wouldn't hurt -he said making her smile- What? I have to write down my combat tactics somewhere

-Nice try -he acknowledged- but that's not how our deal works

-Do we have a deal?

-We do -he stated- for every fight you survive I'll send you one thing you want -he took a pen with some ink and a piece of parchment from inside his tunic- make a list, I'll come back for it at nightfall

-Why are you so nice to me? -she asked as she was leaving, causing me to look at her again-

-It doesn't cost anything to be one -he replied before walking away flanked by the praetorians-

[vanmarkus]

why do you ride so hard for these problematic men? first ryan and his racist anti vax ass and now lou with his ableist trump supporting? you know you can like the characters they play without riding for these grown men right? lou wasn’t hacked. why would he delete that specific instagram post if he was? why would he like his most recent like if he was hacked? why wouldn’t he say he was? you guys just like making up excuses (even ones that make no sense) to give your favs a pass and it’s weird. just admit they are human and fallible and maybe not the best people and that’s okay. you don’t need to stan these men to enjoy their characters.

okay. i'm gonna try to be patient and assume that you're here in good faith, even though I know for a fact, that you're not.

I will also ignore the Ryan thing because what do you mean "first"? I haven't even been in the fandom when that whole thing went down, but I believe in calling out bad behaviour to help people learn to do better, otherwise what's the fucking point? moving on.

so first of all, do not tell me what I should say but especially do not tell me what I should say, when I already said it word for word here:

second of all, I do not ride hard for Lou, in fact I do not ride hard for any of them. what I care about is actors (and the crew and the showrunners cough cough) not being harassed and treated like crap for doing their jobs, which, let's be real fucking honest here, the fandom has a history with, especially when it comes to love interests — as Oliver himself has pointed it out.

do I know what happened? no. do I think there are a lot of suspicious beats around the incident? yes, very much so.

btw no one would even assume hacking, if certain people could just act right. just a few weeks ago, no one could've plausibly make the claim, now however... this is what bullying and harassing and making fake accounts and so on births, this is all on the fandom. if not for that shitty behaviour, this would be much more clean-cut.

if it was him; he deleted it immediately which tells me that he's at least aware of how it reflects on him, if not how and why posting something like that is not okay. we can't be responsible for other people's values, but can only hope for them to always try to do better. and that's just step one.

the thing is, if we as a fandom can collectively ignore other things that have been deleted by other cast members, then instead of making a spectacle out of this, we can all just hope that it's a beginning of a learning curve.

anyway. do not come into my inbox — on anonymous, no less — to try to police what I say on my own blog. I always choose my words very carefully and I never claimed to know exactly what happened and as a rule of thumb, I don't allow myself more than a certain amount of time a day to dwell on these type on things (that time for today is up with this ask, by the way), because I'm in the fandom for fun and when it's no longer fun, I just leave.

but it's my blog and I will post what I think and if you don't like that; no one is forcing you to see it. unfollow and block and have a nice day.

[crushedteeth]

Creepypasta fic WIP

(I’m not sure what direction I wanna take this in but the main gist is that it’s Toby’s pov joining the proxy gang and slowly losing his mind and fully becoming a killer. It might get a little introspective.)

About a week ago I burnt that house down with those bastards still inside. It doesn’t matter now, whether this is really what I wanted or not. All that matters is that I survived. That I escaped that wretched beast. I won’t ever go back. I wouldn’t go back not even if I knew Lyra was there waiting for me to get home, just like she would all those years ago when I would come home from school. Even if I wanted to.. the police were looking for me anyways.

It’s cold, not enough for it to snow but just enough that it’s clear autumn is ending. I walked, I hitchhiked, and rode buses all the way to Alabama. Once lush green trees lost all their leaves and it left the whole region looking dull and withered. I had finally stopped in some hick town. The roads lay dilapidated because the last time they’d been paved was when they were built.

At about 6 pm the sun was already down and I decided I should rest for the night because the next day I’d be traveling, as well as the next day, and the next day, and even the day after that. My life had just become one shitty road trip.

I walk into a filthy gas station restroom. It isn’t even attached to the main store and I had to make the embarrassing walk back out of the store and down the side of the building just to use those putrid bathrooms. I don’t even need to use the restroom. I just wanted to look in the mirror and pretend like nothing had changed at all. But things have changed. That’s apparent when I gaze up into the hazy smudged mirror to inspect the gash that now rests on the left side of my face. I’ve been shoddily covering it up with gauze and peeling medical tape. At first it upset me but now it doesn’t matter, I never felt it anyways. I never felt anything.

The gash is repellent, not just because it widened my mouth allowing view of my yellowed gnarly teeth, but because it was probably infected. It’s red and irritated creating the perfect spectacle of disreslish, and if anyone could see behind the gauze they shoot him an even worse expression than they already give.

I rub my eyes harshly until all I see is fuzzy grayness. I leave the restroom squashing a fat cockroach on the way out and I don’t even bother to gag or scrape my shoe off. I just don’t care anymore, about anything really, except surviving.

I realize that I’m walking with my head down so I look up. I stop for a moment, I look at those dreadful trees. They look ugly as ever, but just for a little I can pretend that I’m enjoying nature and maybe even the breeze if I could feel it.

I turn back to the gas station’s store. My eyes scan the posters plastered to the plexiglass, looking for any fleeting sense of amusement. I spot a flier for the town’s local bar which piques my interest. They never check ID’s in places like this and I could use a drink. I have 35 bucks left, I’ll probably only be able to afford a single crappy beer. A single crappy beer that will drain my minimal cash. Logically I should ditch the bar and find a motel, do something nice while the money lasts. But there’s a lot of things I don’t care about now and comfort is one of them.

There’s no sidewalks in the town and I stumble on roadside debris more than I’d like to admit but I make it to the bar after a crisp 5 minute walk. It’s not bustling but a familiar amount of people appear to be there. I imagine that they’re regulars and that most of them likely walk home because there are only two cars parked in the dirt lot.

As I walk up to the entrance I notice a man leaning against the bar’s wall. He’s a little over average height and he’s wearing a beige sort of jacket. He’s smoking a cigarette and two more burnt ends on the ground make me think the one he has in his mouth may not be his first. He doesn’t lift his head up or open his eyes to look at me but I still feel rude for staring and I look away quickly. I commit to my plan and waltz into the bar in a semi fluid motion.

Immediately eyes are on me, but as soon as they look at me they’re gone. No one in the bar seems to particularly care that they’ve clearly never seen me before so they go back to drinking and talking quietly.

All of the patrons are at various worn down tables scattered around the bar save for one man sitting directly at the bar. I sit two seats down from the man and I try not to look at him but I see his head turned towards me in my peripheral vision. He’s wearing a yellow hoodie and that’s just about all that I can tell from my limited view of him. He turns away and a tension lifts from my shoulders that I hadn’t even realized was there.

The bar’s staff doors swing open as a young woman walks out. Her hair is up in a bun and if I were to guess I’d say she’s probably the daughter of the owner. She makes her way towards me and asks me “Can I get you anything?” with a polite but disingenuous smile.

“Uh-a beer, please, cheapest kind you have”. I try to be as normal as possible, I try to sound like I’m actually allowed to be in here drinking beer. “Alright” she nods and turns around to the bar’s alcoholic supply and she begins to pour beer from a container that can’t be anything other than someone’s local craft. She swiftly turns back to me, placing the cup on the table.

“Holler if you need anything else” and then she’s off to attend to all the other likely more important customers. I look down into the amber liquid and I feel a little queasy, like I’m doing something I’m not supposed to. Well, I am, but I thought that being on my own for so long now would make me feel more independent. I’ve never felt more helpless and incompetent.

[milkytheholy1]

Hey babe! Can I possibly request 37 and 48 from your prompt list? With ROTTMNT Donnie? I love how you write him! It can be fluffy and /or limey. Whatever you want to write! 💜💜

Prompts: 37 - “I have a feeling we should kiss.” “Is that a good feeling or a bad feeling?”

48 - “Shut up and kiss me already.”

A/N: Hey bestie, had a little trouble at first since I had no clue how to start, but I really hope you like how it turned out. Enjoy!

TMNT masterlist. Ultimate masterlist. AL masterlist

The colour purple

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Donnie were sat in his lab like usual, the purple neon lights bathed over your bodies like the ocean. You were side-by-side, elbows practically touching with the proximity. Donnie worked away on a new invention while you sat aside and handed him whatever tool or screw he needed. It was a boring job, yet it gave you a chance to think, to really sit down and sort yourself out.

You slumped against your hand, choosing to lean against it after an hour and a half of sitting straight in the plastic chair Donnie had thrusted into your hands upon arrival. You sometimes liked his sense of urgency he held over everything he did, liked the feeling of moving fast; but this time you just needed to slow down. You watched away as he tinkered, eyes trailing down his form, completely oblivious to your gaze; but that's Donnie for you.

The world could be in an alien apocalypse and he'd still be sat in his little lab with his tech beats high and goggles on. You had to give him some credit though where credit was due, Donnie did make amazing things, sometimes not enough to warrant spending so long in the dark, but enough.

Your eyes started with his hands, watching in awe as they moved around the workbench with ease, picking up odd pieces of metal and somehow crafting them to the bulk in front of him. You could never do that, you were barely capable of getting changed in the morning never mind any of this. His fingers were long and thin, no doubt to the number of hours he spends using them for crafting such spectacles, the likes the world has never seen.

You sometimes think that if the world would just accept them it would be in such a better place, thanks to Donnie the world could have had flying cars by now. But no, instead he's sheltered underground working on a flying toaster. Moving from his fingers, your eyes caught on the shade of purple littered all of his body. God, he really did love that colour, huh?

You remember one time when you had asked about the boys and their colours, still being fairly new to the team, you wondered if they ever meant something. Of course, Donnie had brushed you off in the early days, not really wanting to waste his time explaining to you why he wears purple. But he didn't account for how persistent and confident you could be, freely walking into his lab and asking more and more questions.

You had eventually found out that he chose the colour for its meanings in different cultures. In some places, like Japan, it was seen as the colour of royalty, while in others it symbolised mystery. You would never admit this to him, but you did end up doing more research when you got home and not only on Donnie's signature colour. You would later find that some people also thought the colour purple symbolised hookers, yeah...you definitely wouldn't tell Donnie that.

Blinking away the memory, a smile on your rosy cheeks, you continued observing the young turtle. Your eyes moved over to the marks that sat upon the tops of his shoulders, feeling the ghost of your fingers trace over them. You often wondered if soft-shell turtles had marks on their arms too or if Donnie was just a different cause. You jumped slightly when he lurched back, his arms flying towards you in shock. He quickly apologised then continued to mutter about the blasted toaster and how it wasn't working the way it was meant to.

You figured he blew a circuit or something, it would explain the slight sizzle and burnt scent flying off of him and around the room. Maybe you should have asked him if he was okay, but with the way he eased back into his work it was clear he had probably forgotten about the whole thing. You went back to your mini-mission of uncovering every hidden detail on Donatello's body, was this weird? Staring at someone so intently?

Then again, it's not like Donnie hadn't done the same to you, and on multiple occasions at that. The first time you had met at April's apartment he had just stared at you, sure there was a brief awkward handshake, but that was pretty much it. Then there was that day you had gone to April's family farmhouse in Upstate New York, the moment you guys were out on the water you couldn't help but feel watched. Anytime you turned around to face the purple-branded turtle, his face would flush and he would avert his gaze.

And finally, there were your favourite times, the times where hanging out would last too long and you'd end up staying over. You'd be huddled in the projector room, a movie on the screen and a bowl of popcorn in your lap. You would pretend to not notice his intense gaze beamed straight at you. You'd pretend that the flush of your face was because of something occurring in the movie and not because of the soft-shell ninja beside you, gazing at you as though you were the only being in the world.

“I have a feeling we should kiss.” you huffed out in a breath, causing the turtle beside you to jostle in shock. You had been so quiet this whole time and suddenly you wanted to kiss him. Donnie's eyes had widened, so much so that you could faintly see the whites of his eyes above his goggles. You had to chuckle at his face, silently loving the bemused look, almost as though what you had said could kill a man.

He tried to regain his breathing, not noticing how rapid his chest was bouncing. Stuttering to take his goggles off, in his haste they fell with a loud snap to the back of his head, he faced you. Donnie's hand fumbled together much like his words, still unsure if you were serious or not, “I-is that a good feeling o-or a bad feeling?”

He couldn't deny the urge to kiss you either, actually, he was quite happy you said it, even if you did sound bored. Donnie had always liked you, well, not always. There were times at the beginning of the friendship where he absolutely despised the way you held yourself so confidently, but you weren't like those people who were confident and assholes; you were generally a very nice person. When you had begun to question his work anytime you came over, he sought refuge in you, felt like he was able to tell you anything and everything; sometimes more than April!

Oh God, what if you didn't like the kiss? What if you regret it, and as result, want nothing to do with him? This kiss could make or break any relationship with you, whether that's a future one or the current one.

You could see his little brain overthink every scenario that could possibly happen, yet it seemed the time he spent thinking he didn't think of one possible outcome. You grabbed a hold of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer towards you, a vixen smile on your lips, "Shut up and kiss me already.”

You silenced any quarries he had the moment your lips touched, Donnie felt himself melt into the kiss and as it progressed become bolder in his actions. His hands trembled down your belly and situated themselves on your hips. He rubbed his thumbs over the fabric restricting him from touching your skin. With all his strength, Donnie heaved you onto his thighs, just wanting to be immersed with you, anything related to you.

And that's how you spent the rest of the night, sat in Donnie's lap making out to your heart's content. The flying toaster was long forgotten, but really, who needs that when you have someone who loves you by your side?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Life Goes On

This if for @buckybarnesplumwhore​

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; grieving, funeral, breeding, handcuffs, warnings are not exhaustive so read at your own discretion.

This is dark! Andy Barber x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You volunteer at the local youth center but when one of the kids meets an unfortunate end, you cross paths with his father. No stranger to grief, you try to help him cope but find it a bigger than task that you expected.

Note: When I started writing, I had no plan. When I kept writing, there was still no plan. And then it just all kinda happened.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

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

It was too sunny for a funeral. A funeral come too soon.

The service was held out in the sun, rows of wooden chairs and a sombre old priest. You never knew if the Barbers were religious but it was easy to find a holy man in Massachusetts, as easy as those early years of settlement found in textbooks. 

There were no flowers, only two oblong caskets shrouded in black cloth, the name of each of the dead on silver placards, no pictures, no souvenir of who they were.

It was like Andy was already trying to forget them. He was at the front, the grieving widower and father. You were lost somewhere in the middle with his co-workers, there out of propriety more than empathy, and distant relatives who attended out of courtesy, some passing acquaintances who followed the story in the papers more than out of compassion. It was a spectacle and Andy had done his best from feeding the leering onlookers.

You knew Jacob more than his parents. He was younger than you, almost ten years apart. You knew him from the youth group you volunteered for, the same one you'd been in at his age. He was out of place there, he was from a better neighbourhood than the other kids, they called him the rich brat, and he resented himself more for it than he did them.

His attendance kept his mother happy. He didn't like the individual counseling, he didn't talk, so she put him in the group and he talked there. Sometimes. The kids never went on philosophical monologues but they understood each other and shared what they needed to.

Laurie was always late to pick him up. So he stayed to help stack the chairs and you ended up waiting with him, making sure he wasn't alone in the dark. He hated that at first too, until he realised you weren't on the stoop to council or judge. You were just two people, chatting to pass the time.

Sometimes Andy picked him up. He was friendlier than Laurie. Jacob's mother was always in a rush, even on her way home where there was no deadline. She said thanks, maybe, and drove off as she began to lecture Jacob about how he wore his hat. Andy offered you a ride, every time, as if he had some compulsion to be the good guy, the saviour. You always said no, the bus was a five minute ride to your building, fifteen minutes if you walked.

Now Jacob was dead, his mother too. Another tragedy inflicted upon those least likely. Even death didn't stop the whispers, even that venue, the priest's collar, the Biblical dirges, the grim family man in black did not silence them. It sickened you as the service ended and the people rose in a hushed murmur.

Andy left without talking to anyone. The procession of cars would drive through the streets with flags to mark the grieving on their way to the interment. It was as if Andy was doing what was expected more than what he felt he owed the deceased. He was ever the lawyer, formal and curt.

You followed the grey parade. Not out of obligation but out of genuine regret. Jacob seemed like a lost kid, even in death. The rumours, the accusations, the suspicion, followed him. The people didn't watch the dirt fall from the shovel to see him at peace, they watched it as some grand finale to the great show of the Barbers.

When the metal no longer cut and scattered the soil, the crowd thinned out. You stayed as the diggers packed up. You were sad for Jacob, for Laurie. Andy hadn't been there to see the burial. You couldn't blame him but you were surprised. He just disappeared after the service, apparently done with his part in the play. 

You went closer and stared at the new stone that stretched above both plots. Laurie Barber… and her son, Jacob Barber. May they rest. It was as short, as minimal as anything else about the affair. You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand. You didn't know if Jacob was a bad seed, it wasn't your job to make that call, but he had just been a kid and all that potential was now six feet down.

"Didn't think anyone would stick around," the dark figure stepped up beside you, his steps muted by the grass, "least of all, you."

"I'm sorry, I…" you looked at Andy and then the dirt, "I'll go."

"Wait," he said before you could move, "I thought-- I thought I wanted to be alone for this…" he shoved his hand in his pocket, "but I've been alone since it happened and I'm realising, I'm gonna be alone from here on out."

You didn't say a word. You didn't know what you could say. He'd heard a hundred apologies, a hundred condolences.

"I'm happy someone stayed, that someone cared," he cleared his throat, "thank you."

You nodded and played with the buttons on your cardigan.

"He was too. Happy, you know, that someone cared. I think back now and I realise that you probably saw him more than me. He was always excited to go to the centre but he got in that car and he just… deflated." He shook his head, "maybe this is better. One way or the other, he wanted to get away from me but he never could get away from Laurie. She wouldn't let him go."

He chuckled sardonically but it quickly fizzled in his throat.

"Sorry, I'm rambling…"

"You're processing," you said, "a lot of the kids down at the centre, they lost parents, one way or the other, orphans, fosters… I always told them that they didn't have to make sense because grief never really does."

"Now that makes a lot of sense," he said, "but you shouldn't have to listen to me."

"I shouldn't or you don't think you should say any of it?"

"Hmmm," he hummed, "yeah, maybe."

"I don't get paid to listen to those kids, I just get a time and a place to do so. This isn't different. It's just talking and a lot of that is just figuring things out. Listening is easy, you're doing the hard part."

"Jeez, you come up with this stuff on your own or is there some sort of how-to book?"

You lifted your chin and sucked in your lip. You could tell where Jacob got the bite from.

"Sorry, that was… mean," he said after the silence settled with the dirt, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure," you said.

"You got somewhere to be?"

"No…" you answered cautiously.

"Do you think you might wanna listen to me a little more? I'll buy you a coffee for the trouble."

"You wanna talk? To me?"

"Better than anyone I do know," he snorted, "they all just give me that dumb look. They pity me, judge me. You don't have to say yes but I started now, if I stop, I'll...stop."

"Coffee?" You glanced over at him, "I'd rather tea."

"I'm sure they got that too," he fiddled with the trim of his pocket, "anytime you wanna bail, let me know."

"If I can handle teen angst, I think I can handle you."

🖤

That afternoon wasted away in the corner of a café. It felt like any other day but for Andy, you knew, it was likely the worst day of his life. Likely a day he wouldn’t forget. You sat patiently until the last of your tea was cold. He didn’t finish his coffee, he hardly even touched it. When you checked the time, he looked down embarrassed.

“It’s late,” he said, “I… I’m sorry for keeping you so long.”

“I didn’t have anything to do. I doubt you did either,” you swept up the paper cup and your purse.

“No, really, I mean, you don’t know me. You knew Jacob and I just sat here and talked your ear off for hours. I--” he looked out the window, “I know that when I go home, the house will still be empty. That’s why I’m here.”

You looked past him as he turned back. You chewed your lip, “Andy, have you looked into counseling yet?”

“It feels… too early for that.”

“Too early?”

“I don’t want to let it go. Don’t want to let them go,” he sucked his hands in his pockets, “if I go, that’s what they’ll tell me to do.”

“No, they’d help you live with it, not forget it,” you said, “but I know, it’s scary. Have you done anything? Read anything?”

“Read?”

“Self-help isn’t for everyone and those dummy books aren’t great I admit, but sometimes a start is better than nothing. What about… a routine? Do you have one?”

“I work, I come home, I sleep, and try not to notice they’re gone,” he shrugged, “and repeat. Lot of overtime.”

“You’re still working?” you went to the door and he followed.

“Well, I talked to you. That’s what I’m going to do about it.”

You stepped out into the evening din and spun to look at him. You crossed your arms and stood across from him on the pavement.

“Well, unfortunately there’s an age limit down at the centre,” you said, “but I could give you a number for an adult group.”

“No, I don’t wanna talk to a group of sad parents and widowers. Just remind me how pathetic I really am,” he scoffed.

“Do you think that what you’re doing right now is better?”

“Do you have a degree in this?” he wondered, “what are you doing down at that youth centre talking to degenerates?”

“I have a certificate that says I’m good at listening, but no, I couldn’t afford a degree,” you dropped your arms, “but, will you come down? Sit in on a session. Just listen… for Jacob? It helped him, I think, after a while?”

“With the kids?”

“Yeah, with the kids,” you said, “maybe it will help you decide.”

“Decide what?”

“If you’re going to keep doing what you're doing; nothing, or if you’re going to try. Trust me, after a while, just sitting there, ignoring it, it gets old and it won’t get better.”

He looked down and stared at his leather shoe as he ground his toe into the pavement, “is that allowed? Am I allowed to do that?”

“I don’t see why not. I have parents sit in all the time.”

“But I’m not-- not anymore,” he gulped.

“You are,” you patted his arm gently, “you always will be.”

“What time?” he raised his head.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays at four-thirty. We do accept late arrivals. Kids come in and out. Usually hang out til seven before I let them go.”

“I think I can make that work,” he exhaled deeply, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“For putting up with me.”

You nodded and gave a bittersweet smile, “I miss Jacob too. I might be little more than a glorified babysitter but it means something to me. The kids… they feel like they’re mine sometimes. At least on those two nights a week.”

“Well…” he peered down the street, “you need a ride?”

You chuckled quietly, “you now, I think this time, I do.”

🖤

Andy was early. He took a chair near the wall as the kids flopped on the low sofas and into the colourful armchairs. A government grant had seen an upgrade in the lounge, although the kitchen needed some work as the cooking classes were still short on supplies. Dark circles darkened his eyes and the hairline wrinkles around them added to the hollow effect. He wasn’t sleeping.

You waited for the room to quiet. You greeted the kids and went through the usual ice breaker; one bad thing, one good thing, and one way they could improve the bad. Many of them were reluctant at first, they resisted what they thought were cheesy and inane exercises but they all came around. They were able to voice things that otherwise would be kept to themselves and they were afforded a respectful and often rapt audience.

When you finished, you kept from naming your own three. You looked at Andy.

“I’m sorry, everyone, I’m so forgetful. This is Andy,” you gestured to him, “he’s sitting in with us today. Andy, why don’t you tell us your bad thing, your good thing, and one thing you can do to improve the bad.”

He looked startled but he stood and cleared his throat. He glanced around at the kids and the shadow left his face. “Well, I lost a file, there were free bagels at work, and… I guess I could try to look again tomorrow.”

“Very good,” you smiled, “alright, my turn at last. My bad thing is I spilled tea on my shirt, my good thing is it’s a dark shirt, and my thing to improve is… wear a bib.” You laughed as you audience stay stone faced, “alright, alright, I’ll just be more careful and not run with hot liquids.”

You sat and started with Danica. She was always the most talkative, that encouraged the other kids. Today was no exception and you had to remind her to save some time for everyone else. Erik was next, then Andre, and Shamea. You almost didn’t notice Andy as he stood and sidled against the wall. Not until he was at the door, he looked back darkly and you saw his chest fall heavily. His nostrils flared and he was gone.

You tried not to show your disappointment, tried not to let the kids notice. They were all caught up in the circle and breaking it was never good. Shamea passed the stuffed bunny to Naima and you focused on her. Maybe it was too soon for Andy, you understood that, but you hoped too that he might have found a piece of Jacob there.

Before the kids left, you handed out the coloured markers and they each scribbled down a few words before a high-five. They passed through the open door in pairs and singles, and you bent to add your own note. You tucked the card into your bag and locked up. Jacob was usually the only one to hang around. Not anymore.

You headed out the front door with a wave to Martha at the front desk and took a gulp of the fresh evening air. There was someone sat on the flat stone at the bottom of the broad rail of the stairs. You recognised Andy as you neared, much too big to be a teen.

“I’m sorry,” he dabbed his nose with his sleeve, “I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay in that room.”

“But you’re still here,” you said.

“I didn’t wanna just leave you hanging but… they all remind me of him,” he stood, “I’m sorry.”

“No more apologies,” you opened your purse and searched, “I had the kids put this together. Actually, it was Milo’s idea. He didn’t know it was you but he wanted to send it in the mail--”

“What?” he took the card and opened it. He turned so he could read it in the yellow light of the street lamp, “oh my god.”

“Is it too much?”

“No, no,” he ran his thumb over the ink, “it’s…” he closed it and tucked it into his jacket, “the only other thing I’ve got is the bill for the caskets. It’s… amazing. Thank you.”

“Not at all. They always surprise me,” you said, “most of the time, in good ways.”

“You need a ride?” he checked his watch.

“I don’t live far,” you waved him off, “but I always appreciate the offer.”

He nodded and frowned, “and if… if I didn’t want to be alone? Would you grab a burger with me? Have you eaten?”

“Not since lunch, I, uh… I guess it couldn’t hurt,” you said.

“You gotta be up early?”

“Nah, not too early.”

“What do you do? I mean, outside of this?” he turned and directed you to his car.

“Data entry,” you sighed, “it’s not very exciting but I work remotely and the pay is decent and I still have time for the kids.”

“It’s a living,” he said as the door locks clicked and you grabbed the handle, “no judgment. Trust me, being a lawyer, it’s really not as glamourous as it seems.”

🖤

Andy’s routine changed. He came around every Thursday and listened. After a few weeks, the kids figured out who he was. They didn’t treat him any differently and even invited him to join in on the teambuilding games you arranged. He wasn’t bad help as you welcomed a few new members from the group home.

That night, you weren’t feeling great. Even the kids hadn’t helped much. You were exhausted and nauseous. You blamed it on the late night shawarma. You said goodbye to the kids and packed up. Andy stacked the chairs without you asking, even when you told him not to.

You leaned heavily on the table and checked your phone before slipping it into your bag. You wiped your forehead and shivered. Some gravol, ginger ale, and sleep would be your indulgence that night.

“You okay?” Andy asked.

“Stomach thing,” you rubbed your middle, “nothing major.”

“You don’t look great,” he said, “well, I don’t mean it like-- are you sure--”

“Oh, gee,” you slid past him and out the door.

You ran to the restroom across the hall and into a stall. You wretched and the acid seared your throat. The bile bubbled in the toilet water and you shuddered. You heaved a few more times and rinsed your mouth in the sink.

Andy was waiting for you in the hall, “let me drive you tonight,” he insisted, “even if it’s just a block away.”

“I can’t even say no,” you grumbled as he handed you your purse.

“What’s wrong? You eat something?”

“I think,” you groaned as he held the door open and the cool air outside chilled the sweat on your neck, “urgh, I hope it’s only that.”

You got to his car and fell heavily into the seat. You slumped against the console as he started the car. He paused as the engine idled and felt your forehead. He nudged you back against the seat and turned his hand to press the back of his fingers to your cheek.

“You got a fever,” he said, “I don’t think it’s food poisoning.”

“Oh, those kids carry bugs like rats,” you muttered, “just take me home, I’ll get over it.”

He pulled out of his spot and you closed your eyes. You leaned against the window, frigid against your forehead and hugged yourself. You dozed off before he even turned out of the lot, the belt keeping you from folding over entirely.

🖤

You woke up between fresh linen. The sunlight was soft in its early hues. It wasn't your bed. You rolled onto your side and your stomach ached from how empty it was. You pushed back the thick duvet, you were sweating. You didn't remember more than the car ride and a few fuzzy glimpses of the bottom of a bucket. 

You were cold again and pulled the blanket back. The door was open and Andy filled it as if he'd heard your grumbles. He stood at the bottom of the bed in a pair of plaid pants and a blue tee.

"Why am I here?" You asked. 

"You fell asleep. You're sick. I couldn't just leave you outside your building," he said, "how are you feeling?"

"Bad," you replied curtly, "I can go," you sat up, "stop by the pharmacy, go hide in my own bed."

"You should stay here," he insisted, "just until the fever breaks."

"Really… ugh," you moaned as your belly clenched, "Andy, I should--"

"Lay down?" He came around and caught your shoulder, "I used to call in sometimes when Jacob was home sick. When he was a lot younger and… I stir up a man cup of noodles."

"You don't have to--"

"It's completely selfish," he interrupted, "it's been a long time since I had someone to take care of or at least it feels like it."

You were light-headed as you tried to stand but he kept you from getting to your feet, "I guess I can stay a little longer."

"Don't act like I don't owe you," he tutted, "now relax. I'll get you some soup. You need something in your system. I got some anti-nausea pills in the cupboard, too."

"Thanks but you don't owe me anything. I'm gonna owe you big."

"Why don't we just call it even then," he backed up, "seeing as that's my bed and my couch, it's really not made for sleeping." He stretched his arms and his shoulders cracked, "especially at my age."

🖤

You stayed another night. You tried to convince Andy to let you take the couch instead but he was a lawyer and rarely lost an argument. It was easier to eat by the evening but you were still dizzy and you couldn't stop yawning. You'd never been so tired.

Despite your uneasiness at overstaying your welcome, you slept more heavily than before. Your guilt didn't keep you awake for long as you sank into a deep sleep and you woke slowly, a murmur escaping your lips as grogginess weighed you down. You were still so very tired but it was already morning.

You stretched and your wrist caught. You winced and tugged at your arm. You sat up in horror as you stared at the metal cuff attached to the hoop drilled into the headboard. You tugged until your arm hurt and your hand throbbed. What the fuck.

"Andy! Andy! What--"

"Shhhhh," Andy hushed you as he entered, "it's okay, you're okay."

"No, I'm not. What did you do?" You pulled again and the metal pinched your skin.

"You're going to hurt yourself," he said calmly.

"Unlock it. Let me go," you struggled as you kicked off the blankets, "Andy, what the fuck?"

"Hey, don't talk like that. It's...nasty."

"I don't understand," you began to pant, "why are you doing this?"

The panic crawled like tendrils up your neck and back. You twisted and pulled but the metal cuff didn't budge. You felt the bed shift and Andy grabbed your shoulder. He forced you down, pinning your other hand beside your head.

"I'm taking care of you," he said, "don't be so ungrateful."

"I can take care of myself. Let me go, please."

"No, you need me," he snarled, "like I need you."

"Andy, you're wrong--"

"Stop!" He covered your mouth, "stop! You don't know what you need. Now be still. Be quiet." He squeezed until your jaw hurt, "don't make this difficult."

He slowly lifted his hand and you didn’t move. You stared at his hand then looked at his face. There was a desperate anger in the depths of his oceanic eyes. He sat back and his jaw clenched as he watched you.

"I'm going to make breakfast. Be good. You need to eat." He backed off the bed and went to the door, "I mean it."

He left you and you listened until pans clinked and clanged in the kitchen below. You folded your thumb against your palm and tried to wiggle free of the cuff. It was too tight. There was only one other way out and you couldn't do it alone.

"HELP! HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE!" You screamed, "someone help me!"

The footsteps hammered up the stairs and Andy stormed in. He grabbed you and clamped his hand over your mouth again.

"Listen, no one can hear you, you got that? Windows are soundproof, but I really don't want to hear it so it's up to you if I gag you."

You blinked and your lip trembled against his hand. Your eyes rounded and you nodded stiffly. He tore his hand away and sighed as he clapped his hands on his legs in frustration.

"Good," he said quietly, "now, let's just hope," he stood and strode to the door, "that the bacon didn't burn."

🖤

You fell asleep again shortly after eating, even with the adrenaline and panic surging through your veins. You woke again in the afternoon. Your limbs were heavy but the fever was gone and your stomach felt better but you were still terribly tired. 

Andy was there. He had a leather file in his lap as he looked over papers and scratched his beard. He sensed your movement and looked over at you.

"Hungry?" He asked, "you slept through lunch."

"No," you smelled your sweat on the duvet, "but… can I have a shower? I haven't...since I got here."

"A shower?" He closed the folder and stood. He set it down and pursed his lips as he thought. "Fifteen minutes," he said as he dug around in his pocket, "I'll be here."

He unlocked the cuff and you rubbed your wrist as you sat up. He stayed close as you rose and stayed between you and the bedroom door as he pointed you to the bathroom.

"I don't have much for you to wear yet but you can take another one of my shirts," he said.

You nodded and closed the door between you. You closed your eyes and pressed yourself to the wind. How was this the same man that you spoke to that day at the cemetery?

🖤

He slept beside you that night. You were on your side, your arm bound again by the cuff with the pillow between it and your head. You were uncomfortable, more so with him against your back. He wore only a pair of boxers. You shied away when he undressed and never looked at him again.

You dozed despite your nerves. You couldn't shake the drowsiness. You just felt more and more tired. When you opened your eyes, his arm was around you. He ran his fingers over your stomach, fingers crawling beneath the baggy tee shirt. You shivered and he nuzzled the back of your neck.

"I was thinking… well, I've been thinking for a while now, how happy we could be," he said, "I'm still young enough to try again, do it right and you… you're young, ready." His hand brushed up to your chest and he cupped your tit, "you're kind, you're caring, you're...beautiful. You’re my second chance."

“Andy,” your voice was brittle as your pulse beat furiously, “what you’re doing, it’s not right. You need to let me go.”

He went rigid and his hand stopped. He unsnaked his arm from around you and the springs coiled as he fell heavily onto his back. In the silence, you could only hear his steady breaths and a low growl.

“No, I’m helping you,” he said, “like you’ve helped me.”

“Andy, please,” you eased onto your back and looked over at him, “this isn’t how you fix this.”

“How do I?” he snarled, “huh? How? You don’t know!” he sat up and glared down at you, “you can’t know.”

“You think hurting me is helping me? That’s what you’re doing.”

“No, no, no,” he bent his legs as he grasped his head and gripped it as if it would crack, “No! I haven’t hurt you. I feed you, I keep you clean, I… I take care of you!”

“Andy,” you reached over shakily and touched his bare shoulder, “this isn’t what I want and I know you don’t want it either. You want someone who really loves you--”

“You love me!” he turned so quickly you yelped. He gripped your jaw tightly as he held himself against you, “you love me,” he pressed his lips to yours and you murmured in surprise, “you love me,” it was a maddened chant as he pulled back, “...love me.”

“And--”

His hand flew up to smother you and he lifted himself over you. His knees pressed to your legs until they parted and his other hand explored your curves through the rumpled cotton. You squeaked and tensed against his touch, your wrist chafing from the cuff.

“Shhh,” he hushed as he pushed the shirt up.

He kept his hand on your mouth as he slid down your body and left a trail of kisses along your torso as he unveiled it. He bunched the tee above your chest and bent to dote on your tits. You shuddered and pushed on his head as you mumbled into his palm.

His fingers tickled along your side and hooked into the side of the drawstring shorts he gave you. He tugged until the string snapped and edged them down as he continued to tend to your chest. You kicked around him and felt his bulge as he leaned into you.

He ripped his hand away and sat up. He grabbed the waist of the shorts and wrenched them down your legs, quickly taking his between them again. You wriggled and batted out at his chest as his thumbs pressed against your hip bones and his hands crept down to knead your thighs.

“I can start again,” he brushed his fingers down your vee and you trembled as they danced along your cunt.

“No, Andy, please, you can still stop--”

“Shhhh, honey,” he pushed between your folds and you gasped, “it’s okay. I’ll still take care of you,” he glided over your cunt and made you twitch, “and the baby.”

He poked along your entrance and you whined helplessly as you reached to the cuff and pulled with both arms. Every muscles in your strained as you tried to break free of the headboard. He pushed a finger inside of you and you cried out.

“Andy, stop, please, no--”

He added another finger and slipped them in and out of you as he purred. You looked at his face and it sent a chill through you. His eyes were dark and clung to the movement of his hand, his brow set and his jaw squared with his intent. He wasn’t the grieving widower, he wasn’t the man lost and lonely, he was a monster.

“That’s it,” he turned his hand and flicked your clit with his thumb, “you want me. I feel it.”

You looked away as your wetness spread to his knuckles and along your folds. He kept his thumb moved as he curled his fingers inside of you and the pressure built as the tip of his touch. You gritted your teeth and shook your head helplessly.

“No,” you whispered, “no, no, no…”

He took his hand away suddenly and you felt empty. He lifted himself on his knees and rolled down his boxers. You didn’t look at him, you couldn’t, you only saw the silhouette of his nudity.

He pushed your thighs apart and spread himself over you, his elbow just beside you as he felt around between your bodies. His hot breath grazed your cheek and he kissed it firmly as he angled his tip between your folds. Your thighs clenched around him in a futile act of resistance as he found your entrance.

He pushed inside slowly and brought his other arm up beside you. He forced your head straight and you squeezed your eyes shut. He cradled your head between his hands and his lips brushed yours as he spoke, “open your eyes. Look at me.”

“Andy,” you murmured as he slowly got deeper, “please--”

“Look at me,” he demanded, “look at me!”

Your eyes snapped open and met his stormy blue ones. He bucked his hips and impaled you completely. You exclaimed and grasped his thick bicep in shock, your other hand balled above the cuff. Your legs bent around his thick thighs as you tried to stop him.

“God, you feel so good,” he purred as he began to rock, “don’t I feel good too?”

Your lashes fluttered away the rising tears and you sucked your lip in to keep from making a sound. You could look away as he held your head straight, his hand clamping around your jaw as he other arm bent beneath yours.

The room echoed with the noise of his flesh slapping yours as he sped up, his grunts and groans interlaced with the sickening symphony. You quivered as his pelvis rubbed against yours and stoked the heat in your core. You could not hold back the illicit response of your body as he ravaged it.

Your breath grew heavier and he gulped it down as he kissed you again, forcing his tongue between your lips as he devoured you. The whole bed moved in time with your body and the headboard knocked against the wall as his thrusts came closer and closer together and he buried himself as deep as he could with each tilt of his hips.

He drew his mouth away and pressed his cheek to yours as his muscles tensed and he puffed into the pillow, “this is it, honey. It all starts here.”

“Ah, please…” your voice fizzled and smothered your moan against his shoulder as your body spasmed. Your legs bent around him firmly as you orgasmed and your body arched beneath his desperately.

“That’s it,” he cooed, “that’s it. You take me so well. See… it was meant to… be.”

His breaths grew more rampant with his rhythm. His hand slipped down to cradle your cheek and his thumb stroked your flesh tenderly as he dipped into you over and over. His deep groans grew louder around you. He jerked into you sharply and his motion stuttered. He gripped your hip and held you down as he sheathed himself in your walls. 

He quaked as his hips slowed and he flooded you. He exhaled and as his lungs emptied, the strength left him entirely and he lowered himself over you weakly. His body pressed yours into the mattress, your sweat and his turned sticky as the air settled over you.

He stayed like that for what felt like forever. He moved slowly to lift himself up and he sat back, watching his dick slide out of you. Your thighs shook as your legs splayed around him. You felt his cum leak from you and he dragged his fingers along your cunt and scooped it back into you, coating his fingers in as he pushed them past your entrance once more. He smiled at the wet sounds of your cunt.

“That felt like the one,” he said, “but we can try again...”

He pulled his fingers out of you and admired the slickness that glistened over them. He reached down and gripped his dick, half-soft and spent. He winced as he began to stroke himself and let out stifled moans between his teeth.

“Maybe this time,” he purred as he angled himself inside of you again and lifted your legs against his torso. He bit his lips as he trembled, his cock oversensitive and overworked, “as many times as it takes, honey.”

[pillow-anime-talk]

his talented baby. {pt.1}

synopsis: You as a person with a huge (and hidden) talent, and also a girl who really surprises your boyfriend.

# tags: scenarios; current relationships; romance; fluff; some PDA; sfw

includes: female reader ft. ken kaneki & nishiki nishio {tokyo ghoul} + yuuma isogai & itona horibe {assclass}

— KEN (ft. singing)

Your closest friends invited you to a popular karaoke bar on one Friday night to celebrate a successfully passed semester in college. Of course, you couldn’t forget about your lovely boyfriend, who was at the same university, but in a different field (i.e. Japanese literature) and always supported you with all his might, knowing how much you want to do your dream job in the future.

So you went to the meeting together, and on the way to the designated place you talked all the time about what the next year of study would bring you. As soon as you reached the room where your three closest besties and one male friend were waiting for you, you both greeted them warmly, immediately taking off your thick coats and taking your seats on a soft, leather couch next to a table filled with tasty-looking snacks and colorful drinks.

Long minutes of conversations between the six of you resulted in drunk plenty of alcohol and blushes on the faces. After drinking, you always got more talkative and more self-confident, so you suggested using the TV and the karaoke machine. Of course, you first offered your friends and Ken to sing something, but they all declined, saying that you should start as an initiator. One of the girls, blonde-haired Minami, smiled at you with a sparkle in her pretty golden eyes, adding that you are the best in this and you should show how to do it correctly. You chuckled in response, waving your hand at her to dismiss compliment.

Kaneki, on the other hand, frowned as he looked at the boy who was sitting on his right.

“... Oh, you don’t know? Y/N-san hasn’t yet praised herself to you that she has a wonderful voice? Huh, huh.” The black-haired boy shook his head, reaching for the glass filled with blue something again. “Hmmm, well. Normally Y/N’s very shy, but she always sings at trips when she’s drunk.” He chuckled while you picked one of your favorite songs in the meantime. So everyone looked at your standing figure, then heard the characteristic sounds from one of Selena Gomez’s songs coming from the gray speakers.

“My dear, I dedicate it to you~!” You looked with joy on your face towards the eighteen-year-old, giving him a quick wink, and then you started your little performance with ‘Love you like a love song’ from the above-mentioned artist.

Your friends didn’t seem surprised and instead started clapping to the beat of the music... but Ken’s eyes widened and he spat out his high-percentage drink, not knowing how to react to the fact that for nine, long months of your relationship, you concealed the fact that you could sing so well and so beautifully. Your voice was perfect for the song that was playing now, and you seemed to be having a great time – there was a huge smile on your lips, your eyelids were slightly closed and your hand was over your heart. If it weren’t for the fact that you were at a karaoke bar, everyone would definitely think you are playing a concert on the biggest stage in Tokyo city.

After the song was over, another girl got up to present a completely different choice, and you handed her the dark microphone, bowing in the process.

Kaneki still seemed speechless and as soon as you sat down next to him, he immediately kissed you on the warm forehead, asking you to sing more to him, especially when you two are going to be alone, because he probably fell in love with you once again and just wanted to experience that love every day thereafter.

— NISHIKI (ft. ballet)

Nishiki, as a pharmacy student, didn’t have much time for extra-curricular activities or unnecessary meetings; in addition, the fact that he was a bloodthirsty ghoul and had to watch over himself made it difficult for him to function normally in the life of Kamii University. However, the brown-haired man always found time for you, for his beloved girlfriend.

You had been dating for over three, long years, and the man definitely couldn’t imagine his own life without you by his side. You knew each other better than anyone else in this world, but sometimes some tiny things of your ordinary day eluded Nishio; of course you understood it perfectly and you weren’t angry or disappointed with him. After all, he had to protect himself, you, take care of his specific menu, be vigilant at every step, and additionally he had to pretend to be the perfect student, senpai (or kouhai) and friend of other people.

So you weren’t surprised when one day you handed him a silverish ticket for probably the most important show of your life and he just looked at you in wonderment. At the beginning, the twenty-year-old asked if it was a performance related to singing or playing an instrument due to the fact that the colorful paper didn’t tell him too much, but you just smirked as you tweaked the unruly, soft hair on his head.

“Hmm. If you don’t remember what I do in my free time, it’s even better, I guess. Come and see it for yourself, honey. I think that thanks to this you will even calm down a little and rest due to the recent weeks.” You announced in a light tone of voice, and the young man sighed under his breath.

“So... I’ll find out in three days, am I right?” He made sure by correcting his glasses and you nodded, then grabbing his rough hand and kissing his cool cheek. A short while later you suggested going to your apartment and catching up on a few episodes of your favorite series that you started quite recently.

The anticipation of your important day passed very quickly and on Saturday, at 6 p.m., when everyone took their seats (with your boyfriend sitting on one of the balconies with the best view of the stage), delicate music was played in the theater, which made everyone shiver on the whole body. Until then, the brown-eyed boy somewhere in the back of his head had the impression that it was a theater performance or an opera, but when he saw your person appear on stage in a beautifully tailored dress and ballet shoes, all the questions that flickered in his mind disappeared in literally one second.

‘Well, yeah. I remember now. She always told me about ballet classes and new shoes.’ A huge, proud smirk came on his pale face and you glanced out of the corner of your eye towards his VIP seat.

Though your expression was cold and composed, you felt an enormous heat in your small heart as the man waved at you, showing two thumbs up. His lips moved even slightly, and although Nishiki tried to hide it, you knew perfectly well that the pink blush and mute ‘I love you’ was sincere and even better than being able to play Odetta, the White Swan, in a ballet spectacle.

— YUUMA (ft. songwriting and guitar playing)

Christmas at school was never what you enjoyed; maybe due to the fact that before, your classmates on main campus were quite specific and you definitely didn’t fit with their strange ‘ideals’. It was only in the class E that you felt that you could find real friends or people who would share your ideas.

But, hmm. Still, you seemed to stand out from the rest of the girls in the class who had more... down-to-earth hobbies or characters than you; Okuda liked chemistry and was really excellent at it, Kirara loved reading, Rio was the best at English and had a great sense of fashion, and Toka was pretty good at cooking. Contrary to them, you preferred to... do more ‘intimate’ things. Writing short poems filled your heart with peace and prevented you from being as critical of yourself as usual. And when you wrote the lyrics of the songs, made notes or melodies to them and sang quietly, you could feel like a real artist that everyone wanted to admire and imitate.

Therefore, when your first and last class holidays with the rest of the 3-E students were fast approaching, Koro-sensei was the one who asked you for a short talk. You weren’t sure what this was about, but moments later your uncertainties were dispelled.

“Y/N-san, I think you mistook your notebooks today and instead of giving me your homework, you gave to me... this.” He said in his as always happy voice, and seeing the black notebook in which you always wrote songs and notes, you blushed all over your face, apologizing profusely for the mistake. “Huh? But this is no mistake, my dear. If it weren’t for this, I would never even think that we have such a talented soul in Class 3-E. So would you like to perform in front of the rest of the students and teachers during the holidays?” The easy question made you widen your eyes and sighed.

“I-I’ve never played in front of anyone, so...” You admitted shyly, and the tall, yellow octopus just chuckled.

“I’m pretty sure they will love it. We can practice together.”

Well, you couldn’t refuse (especially when Koro-sensei offered to bring your favorite, foreign snacks...) and on class Christmas day you showed up with your acoustic guitar and a notebook full of chords and songs. Everyone was surprised and curious at how well you play guitar. After all, you’ve never even mentioned that you can play any instrument before. On the other hand, the class representative, and your boyfriend at the same time, immediately came up to you, asking if you were really okay; better than anyone else, Isogai knew that you didn’t like too much attention and big crowds. But you reassured him it was okay and promised your teacher you would do it, so you smiled at him and then took your seat under the blackboard with a wooden guitar on your lap.

The song you chose for the day was a song you wrote quite recently. It had a little bit of magic, and at the same moment it seemed very romantic and delicate. Even Karma seemed delighted with your beautiful play and soft voice that echoed from time to time between the walls of huge classroom.

At the end of the song, you decided to raise your gaze and simultaneously look at your all friends, three teachers and other half; everyone was really happy and positively speechless. So you gave Yuuma a slight wink, making him blush sweetly.

The young teenager definitely hoped you would show him more of your songs someday, not necessarily the happy Christmas carols Kaede and Ritsu asked for.

— ITONA (ft. dancing)

“... You never mentioned that you can dance.” He admitted softly, and you squeezed his smooth hand tighter.

“So... I mention it right now. It’s not a big deal, baby. I just ... like it and enjoy it a lot.” You giggled as you correcting the black sports bag over your shoulder, then opened the heavy door to the training room, immediately jumping up at the sound of loud squeals and greetings from your closest friends. “Guys, this is Itona Horibe, my boyfriend that I told to you before! Love, it’s Aki-chan, Yui-chan, Kazuya-kun, Saburo-kun, and our cameraman and editor Ryuu senpai. Most often, the five of us cooperate with each other when it comes to dance in groups of five people. And... today we are going to cover a song so I hope you’ll like it. I’ll go change and you all, please, don’t scare my boyfriend and give him something to drink!”

As a group leader, you often came up with choreographies and warm-ups for yourself and others. So, it couldn’t be otherwise this time. For the last week and a half you have been practicing the choreo you came up with and today you were supposed to record material for the video on your quite popular YouTube account. You were extremely excited, not only with the new content, but most of all with the fact that your beloved one would be able to watch it live and evaluate your skills that have been refined over the years. So as soon as you got back to the teens waiting for you, you kissed the light-blue-haired quickly on the right cheek and told him that he could sit against the wall, close to the table full of snacks and the contact for charging the phone.

Then you talked with everyone for a while, doing a short warm-up and reminding the cameraman about how to move the cam. A few short minutes later, you lined up in the middle of a huge white room with Ryuu in front of you. You knelt down in the center, of course, gently moving your shoulders to calm your rapidly pounding heart and heavy breathing, and when a song by Ariana Grande started playing all over the bright room, you all looked at the already activated camera, shaking your heads and then you got up from the wooden floor.

Itona... was speechless. He has never seen people dancing before, he has never even been interested in others, only you and what you like. Today he got to know your little passion, which turned out to be a breathtaking talent, and the boy wondered if you could do anything else; are you good at one specific dance genre or are you able to move your body in a completely different rhythm than he currently saw?

From Koro-sensei’s history lessons, when you two were in junior high, the eighteen-year-old remembered perfectly well that there is also classical dance, tango and breakdance. So could you also do that? He had to ask you about it later.

But now his curious gaze was focused on you and your huge, radiant smile, and the sound of feet hitting the ground. He also looked at your legs, tiny hands, stomach, and hair, while he wondered if he might learn to dance too, to be even closer to you and your hobby. After all, you looked so beautiful and so joyful... He wanted to share these emotions.

[tobi-smp]

the thing about dsmp!technoblade is, I genuinely love him with my whole chest. technoblade is the entire reason why I was sucked into the dream smp in the first place, I love his humor and personality more than I love myself, and as much as we can criticize spectacle driven roleplay I’d be absolutely lying if it didn’t draw me in live every single time (the theseus speech doesn’t make a whole lot of sense when you examine it in context, but have you considered? it fucks like hell). I love him As A Whole, but there are key aspects about the presentation of his character that hamper my ability to enjoy him In The Lore just because they read as, Uncomfortable if you give a shit about basically any other character.

so here’s a short list of changes in his character framing that’d do a lot of leg work in removing that problem.

- he’s completely the same, believes that he did the right thing in the right way for the right reasons, but feels compassion for the people who got hurt on the way to get there. whether that extends to the people he was in conflict with (showing remorse over losing tommy or even being Worried about tommy trusting and working with people that techno sees as dangerous even as he acknowledges that it’s tommy’s choice) or whether that just means the innocent people that got hurt in the crossfire (like jack manifold or ghostbur). let me believe that (actually in the right or no) he’s acting for the greater good by showing that he cares about the well being of the people outside of his immediate circle.

- just unapologetically a villain, but specifically the same brand of cartoon villain as chad jack manifold, if more effective in what he tries to do. does what he wants when he wants how he wants because he wants to. no morality or justification involved (or if its there, we the audience are clearly filled in on it Just being a justification. if we aren’t supposed to think about how he effects other characters and just accept when he starts hanging out with them then I simply think that would be easier if he was a lighthearted saturday morning cartoon villain but like, On Purpose.

- unapologetically a villain, but the serious kind. someone who loves what he does and does what he loves without remorse Without covering up the fallout to that. he doesn’t have to play his core personality any different, but here his stubbornness, indifference to those outside of his circle, and treating every situation with the same casualness is presented as horrifying by the narrative and other characters’ perspectives.

- just like, have him learn things and change man. have the information that he takes in impact his character and the decisions he makes, even if that doesn’t change the outcome. him watching dream hunt tommy down and then admitting to manipulating the President of the country that he sees as corrupt And Then publicly outing ranboo in front of everyone for being nice to Him (which is something that techno genuinely cared about, to the point of letting ranboo into his life) should At Least raise some questions about the guy.

even if techno still teams up with dream out of convenience he Should be keeping an eye on him based on A: the weird vibes all of that information gives off when put together and B: the fact that he has the resources to blow a nation almost clean down to bedrock in minutes just, On Hand. for a character whose been well established as paranoid it feels Very weird that he never came close to finding out that he’d been targeted by dream’s attachments museum himself, or even that it existed at all

[lovecanbesostrange]

It started with an ask on konako’s blog, that led to a small scene with Red kneeling before the Evil Queen. (x) That was almost Red Queen fun. But it spun into something very dark, because the Evil Queen did capture Red and torture as punishment followed (this goes into dead-dove territory, you are warned, it’s messed up). Here are 4k words of what happened in the palace dungeon afterwards (spoiler alert, excessive use of silver):

summary: Red made the Evil Queen look foolish and gets utterly destroyed for it (graphic depictions of violence included)

Finally a little triumph. The Evil Queen went down the stairs into the dungeon. Every step of her well-shined heeled boots echoed loudly from the stone steps. Sometimes she wished she had more patience to make good use of the cells down here. But she was bored too easily not getting answers and the prisoners died quickly. Her torturer barely had anything to do. Why did she even pay him anymore? (Did she pay anyone in the palace? They were allowed to live and had nice enough accommodations and food, for sure that was enough.)

But now Regina wanted to take all the time in the world. Her knights had captured that wolf woman! After the bloodbath she had caused weeks ago that made Regina look foolish, she would enjoy their time together now. And it would send Snow White a message in the end.

Two guards were posted outside the cell and two inside. Of course knowing they dealt with a werewolf made handling the prisoner easier. For one the full moon was a couple of nights away. And silver was easy to come by to keep her in line. Regina had also instructed her blacksmith to forge some chains in preparation for when she would be captured. It had been a priority task.

When Regina entered the cell she smiled and took in the sight. Red was chained up in the middle of the room. She was stripped down to her undergarments, her clothes on the floor, except for her cloak that was draped over one of the tables. Her arms were raised above her head, wrists bound by the heavy cuffs each connected to a chain going through a loop in the ceiling and then stretching all the way to a bolt in the wall. Her ankles were cuffed as well, a short heavy chain in between so she couldn’t take any significant steps. Not that she could run away, since her toes barely reached the ground. Red had to carry her weight in her arms, shoulders.

“Well, well, well, so we meet again.” Regina took her time to enter and circled Red, who tried to follow her with her eyes. “You made quite a spectacle the last time.”

“Do you want an apology?” Red’s voice was firm. Too firm for Regina’s taste.

“I don’t think you could muster up an honest one. You’re a deceiver.” Regina stopped in front of her. “Begging for those peasants’ lives and then killing my men.” She grabbed Red’s chin with her thumb and index finger. “You said there was no need for bloodshed and you happily slaid them anyway.”

“I wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t tried to take me.”

“As if you thought I would let you walk away from there.” Regina looked closely into those green eyes. Was the bravado real or just posturing? “Don’t get me wrong, the way you killed those men without a second thought was impressive. I can admire that. But the humiliation it would have been to return to the village and enact punishment, admitting to being defeated that day - I can’t let that slide.” She slapped Red across the cheek.

Red closed her eyes and didn’t turn her face back up. She was glad the villagers had been spared. Regina didn’t know how long she had stuck around to make sure there was no retaliation. And whatever was about to follow, would have been worth it. Snow had her plans to strike and they were close to luring the Queen into a trap. But every day more innocent people could die and Red could not sit by. She owed it to the victims of the wolf to use her strength for good now.

She heard Regina take a few steps back and looked again. The cloak was in her hands now. “Do you have any other name or should I just call you Red. Not very original, is it? Naming yourself after a bit of fabric.” Her fingers traced the patterns. “I sense magic in this. But I guess asking about it will not bring me answers, right? Just like any of Snow White’s plans won’t leave your lips.”

Statements. The Evil Queen had made up her mind already, questions weren’t part of whatever this encounter was. Red turned her hands around and tried to get a grip on the chain, change her position the slightest bit to take some strain off of her already burning shoulders.

“Do you know there isn’t much to find in books about your kind?” Regina exchanged the cloak for something else from the table. It reflected a bit of the amber light emitted from the fireplace and Red could see it was a simple dagger. “The one thing that is said over and over though is your weakness towards silver. I’m curious. Is it just the metal or wounds inflicted by it?”

Red already clenched her jaw before Regina put the blade against the skin on her upper arm, preparing to get cut. But instead Regina pressed the flat side on her skin first. Definitely silver. Pure. Red felt the effect in a matter of seconds and bit down, grinding her teeth.

Regina stood close again, caught her eyes with her gaze and kept pressing the blade against the tender side of her arm. “Don’t worry, I will write down everything I’m about to do here, so the books can add a chapter about how to break a wolf when in their human form.” And with that she turned the dagger and cut the skin. Red flinched, more from the shock than the actual pain. It was a relief actually to have the silver leave her.

“Are there noteworthy differences between a cut with this,” Regina lifted the dagger, “and a normal blade?” She gestured towards one of the guards and he immediately unsheathed a dagger from his boot. Without hesitation Regina reproduced the cut on the other arm. The blood almost tickled as it ran down. “Oh no, I’m making a mess. Getting blood out of clothes is such a hassle.”

Regina let one of the daggers fall down and with the other cut along the seams of Red’s top half of what she was left wearing. Red closed her eyes again as she felt air hit her exposed body. She knew which weapon Regina held and she could feel the silver being drawn over her skin, over her collarbone, between her breasts, down to her navel. The point barely left a scratch, but the offending metal felt like being brushed with a nettle. Red took in deep, sharp breaths through her nose.

That reaction was exactly what made Regina go slower with her movements. It wasn’t the sharpness that left the light red mark, no, it appeared the longer she held the blade in place. What an interesting sight to watch. Regina brought her free hand up to Red’s chin again, this time squeezing her jaw with her palm, digging her fingers into her cheek. Red looked at her again.

“You know, the longer you resist, the more adamant I will be to make you scream. That is how these things work.” She brought the dagger up to Red’s forehead, this time with the edge to cut into her skin again. It took a few seconds, but then the blood running over her eyebrows made Red blink.

“Can you hold this for me?” With that she wedged the silver dagger between the torn clothes and Red’s hips. Red squirmed trying to get away, but the blade touched her thigh ever so slightly. “I learned a valuable lesson the other day. A blacksmith works with iron. Like those chains holding you. Not used to working with silver. You would have to ask a silversmith about it. I even found one and he is working on special silver cuffs for me. Or rather, for you.”

Regina stood at the table again, her back to Red. When she turned around she held up a necklace. “So for now, I have to settle for delicate jewelry instead of the collar you deserve.” Under any other circumstance Red would have admired the piece. Obviously the star-shaped ornament was meant to hold a gemstone in place, a diamond or a sapphire, but this was stripped down to the silver components for one purpose only. “So you will get used to a leash later,” was all Regina added as she put it around Red’s neck.

Red held on. Her skin was crawling all over, the itch on her thigh burning already, but she tried to stay as still as possible. She couldn’t do anything against the tears forming in her eyes, betraying her brave face though.

Regina stood before her, brows furrowed. “Your healing isn’t as fast. I will need to wait hours to compare those cuts on your arms. There is something I am forgetting.” She rubbed her temples, feigning to think. “Oh, of course, I need a point of reference!” A clap of her hands alerted the guard. “You, get the girl from next door.” Red’s eyes went wide.

“No. Wait. You don’t need to drag anybody else into this.”

Regina stepped closer and slapped her across the cheek again, harder this time. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion and you will stop being so informal around me!”

“Yes, Your Majesty”, Red quickly gathered herself. “But please, there is no need-” But she already saw a frightened young girl being pushed into the cell. About her height and weight, seemingly healthy. For now. The girl fell to the floor and cowered there.

“I caught her stealing, so normally she would already be dead. But she can be of use for me.” Regina put a hand into her hair and yanked her head up, to make her look at Red. “Or do you want her dead right now?”

The terror Red felt was mirrored on the girl’s face. Was there a chance of survival for her? She was ready to beg for her life; to lie on that table where Regina obviously had more silver tools; to take any punishment herself. “No,” Red whispered. Another yank at the girl’s hair. “No, Your Majesty.”

“A fast learner.” She pushed the girl into a chair with cuffs on the armrests. Seating her in front of Red. The girl trembled and looked to the floor. Red tried to pull at her chains, but it only sent a jolt of pain through her shoulders.

Regina paced the room. After a while she came up behind Red. “Your shoulders must really hurt by now. Let me help you with that.” Her fingers played with the necklace and Red hissed. Shifting it around made the pain more noticeable. “The plate.” She said towards the guards. Behind Red a wooden plate leaned against the wall. A thin metal sheet on one side, coated in silver. She knew that before the guards shoved it under her feet. The wood added a few inches so in theory this took some of the weight off her shoulders, but the soles of her feet would soon itch, turn red, swell, hurt and most likely blister. She tried to balance on the outside of her feet only, to not hurt everywhere all at once.

“Do you know what the second thing is that some texts suggest to use against a werewolf?” Silence. “Oh, that was a genuine question directed at you. Do you know?”

“Fire.” Red answered between breaths. Her mouth was open now, it was dry. She didn’t dare to fully fill her lungs, because that made the necklace move. The attack on multiple parts of her body with the silver was starting to overwhelm her.

“That is correct. You know your weaknesses it seems.” Regina conjured a fireball in her hand. “Fire is pure. It doesn’t discriminate. It can be very elegant.” She stepped closer to Red, hand outstretched so she could feel the heat of the flame. “How fast can you heal a burn wound?”

“I don’t k-” Red couldn’t finish that sentence, because Regina held her hand to her side now. A scream was all that escaped her lips. The fireball wasn’t cast, but the flame burned her flesh. Red clenched her fists and tried to step away, the chains around her ankles making a screeching sound dragging over the silver plate. There was no escape, because Regina just followed with her hand. She closed her hand and the fireball vanished. Red went slack, her breathing sped up. The only good thing was that in this commotion, the dagger had gotten loose and fallen to the floor.

Red sorted out her senses, trying to gather her bearings, when she heard the girl scream. Louder, more fearful, indicating the horrible pain she never felt before. Regina had torn her clothes and burned her at the exact same place on her body. For reference. Red couldn’t put the horror of it into words. Would it indeed be better for the girl if she was dead already? She didn’t even know her name.

And Red didn’t learn her name over the next few days, because whatever happened, she would not talk to her. Regina had strictly forbidden it and the rotating guards would hit her at a single word. It was almost comical. Red’s body went numb. Cuts, rashes, bruises, welts, burns, scratches. It came and went. The pain was a constant throbbing, she got repositioned a few times, but it felt like she would never use her arms on her own accord again. But whatever happened to her, the girl looked worse. Red did heal faster from any wound not dealt with silver. But it did take a lot from her regardless. She lost track of time. What was sleep? Any kind of shame about being naked had vanished. Instead of clothes her body was covered in forming scars, marks and blemishes.

Red tried to count the rotations of the guards, to get any kind of feeling for the passing days. It was only days, right? It felt like forever. Silver on her skin somewhere at all times, lashes from a whip, getting burned with a torch, red hot iron, and so many cuts to make her bleed. The worst still a long deep wound on her right cheek, starting at her ear right to the corner of her mouth. When they allowed her some water, it even hurt to swallow.

Later Red found out it had been five days in total. It seemed like a small window of time. But the Evil Queen lived up to her name. Especially on day four, when she left permanent damage. While Red was mostly kept standing up, the girl was strapped to the chair. Not that she had any energy left to walk out of here, even if they’d opened the door for her. Regina stood behind her and pulled her head back.

“Just look at me, I’m sure this won’t hurt you.”

Red looked on as Regina dripped liquid into one of her eyes. The girl flinched, but that was a reflex. None of her sounds of discomfort or pain left her throat. That made Red more nervous than she would admit. And she was right to be.

“Just as I thought. Look at that, barely irritated.” She pushed the girl’s head forward, her eye teared up, maybe a bit reddened.

Regina walked around her and caught Red’s gaze. “Such beautiful green eyes. Quiet unusual. Of course not as remarkable as the wolfish gold, is it?” The way she kept staring was unnerving and Red’s breathing already picked up. Fear. In a short amount of time she had learned what fear truly was.

“Hold her steady.” A guard came and grabbed Red’s head from behind. Panic sunk in and she started to squirm, tried to turn her face away, to wiggle out of his grip. She wasn’t sure what was about to happen, but she knew she wanted out. Right now. No more pain, she couldn’t take anymore. But she had to.

Regina got a few drops out of the vile, into Red’s right eye. “Don’t worry, it’s mostly water. Just a tiny bit of silver dust mixed into it.”

Red pushed her body back as hard as she could, but her mangled feet had no grip, it was more like leaning into the guy. No force to get him off. And then the pain started. It felt like a needle prick. And all of a sudden the colors exploded in Red’s sight. Everything was sharper, the light from the fireplace brighter. She knew her eyes turned golden like before she would transform. It had happened a few times, when highly agitated. Now it was a physical response.

Regina laughed. “I did not expect that.” She met Red’s terror with fascination. More needle pricks in her eye, the urge to rub it away. Red pulled at her chains, she wanted to press the palm of her hand against her eye and get the irritating feeling out. But there was no chance. All Regina saw was the golden color and Red gasping for air, holding back a scream. The hitched breathing was a good enough tell that this hurt.

Worse than the pain that kept sinking in was the way Red started to see white dots, blind specks in her vision. Three, four, five, more and more. She blinked, her tearducts fighting off the intrusion, but the silver too strong an opponent. Red clenched her jaw and groaned. She let out a growl from deep within, filled with frustration and pain. It was more of a bellow than a scream. Regina smiled at that.

While Red’s left eye got back to its human green, the right eye stayed golden, a misty layer clouding the bright hue. It drew Regina’s full attention, while it would be weeks for Red to discover the permanent change. Blinded, only noting a change between light and darkness. Her eyeball feeling like it was rubbed with sandpaper made the rest of the day seem like nothing. Time moved on

And then unthinkable happened. The chains were loosened completely, the cuffs came off. Red tried to curl up on the floor, but she could barely move her joints. Everything hurt too much. But Regina laughed. “Remember that I said I will make you beg for more than mercy? How about you ask me to end her suffering?”

Red looked up. Trying to adjust to the impaired vision. As bad as she felt, the girl looked worse. “Please…”, the girl said and the guard standing behind her, hit her against the head immediately.

It took everything Red had to turn herself upright, to bend her knees and sit on them. To kneel before Regina again. No side eye, no hint of a smirk, no failsafe. The burn marks hurt worst next to the chafed skin around her neck from the necklace that was also gone now. “Your…” Red was shaking, she had to cough trying to speak. “Please, Your Majesty. End her suffering. I beg you. Please. It’s enough… enough…” And with that she fell down again.

“Pathetic.” Regina’s verdict was cold as ice. “And to think I had a gift for you just now. Guards.” They stood next to Red and pulled her to her knees again, held her up. Regina leaned towards her. “My silversmith has arrived.” She produced a silver object and only when the lock clicked around her neck did Red realize this was the collar she had talked about. She felt the burn on her throat and winced. It was a sound she was used to producing by now.

“So?”

“Please… Your Majesty…” Red was panting, she could not finish the plea.

Regina rolled her eyes. “If this is the best you can do, so be it. Ending the suffering now.” And with that her hand shot straight into Red’s chest and pulled out her heart. “Kill her. Rip her throat out like you always do.”

Red wanted to scream. She wanted to jump the Evil Queen. To tear up the men holding her. But what she wanted was irrelevant all of a sudden. The will to do it was overwritten. She looked at the girl, defeated, not even surprised. While Red’s mind fully woke up for the first time in days, all her muscles reacted to something else. The pain all over her body was terrible, but every second she didn’t comply was even more agony.

Red crawled more than she walked to get to the chair. She hovered over her nameless victim, tried to hold back, but those terror-stricken eyes met hers. “Make it quick, please.” Oh, if only she could turn into a wolf, those sharp teeth would take less than a second. Regina had specified how this girl was supposed to die and Red could not opt to cut her throat with a knife, she sunk her still very human teeth into it. The larynx, so easy to wrap fangs around, was hard, the skin and flesh thick. The scream the girl let out was only short, because the pressure suffocated her. It was impossible to make this quick-

Finally Red tasted blood. Tears ran down her face, but she could not stop herself from this horrible act. This slow, agonizing, inhumane death of a nameless chamber maid, who probably hadn’t even stolen a thing. Someone at the wrong place, at the wrong time, who had suffered for days for cruel experiments with no merit. One more victim added to Red’s tally. Not for good. Not in battle. Not in defense. Needless cruelty.

When the girl’s heart stopped, Red finally could let go. She sank on all fours, spat out what she could of the blood and wailed. Her own heart wasn’t even in her chest, but it had never felt heavier.

“Get the smith down here now, he knows what to do.” Regina sent one guard away. Red looked up, warm blood dripping from her chin, she could feel it. Disgusting. If she had any strength left, this would be the time to strike. But all Regina needed to do was a little squeeze. Her heart hurt. No, Red was helpless. Any thought of fighting back an illusion.

“I think it’s best that you lie down on the table for this next part.”

Red wanted to put her head under a guillotine right now. To kill like that was worse than any of the torture methods the Evil Queen had come up with. Regina had won. But Red couldn’t do anything but comply and lied down, waiting for her fate.

It came in the form of a small white haired man, holding a sort of chalice with a long tongue. His hands were shaking and Red couldn’t tell if it was because of what he was doing or just being in Regina’s presence. She couldn’t make sense of what was happening. A guard came and put her wrists into the handcuffs again, strapping her to the table. A chain going over her thighs and under the table fixated her.

Regina squatted down next to her, stroking her hair. “Feel free to scream for me now.”

“The mold.” Wood was pressed against her back. “Careful with your fingers there, wouldn’t want to burn you.”

And then everything was fire. The scream from Red’s throat surprised Regina enough that she stood up. Loud, agonizing, on the brink of collapse. What looked like a chalice was a melting pot, containing a few grams of molten silver. It was poured on Red’s skin and burned her instantly, severely. Water followed mere seconds later to turn the liquid back to solid, but the damage was done. A silver ring fused into her flesh. The pain and the sensory overload from heat to cold send her into shock. She was still screaming with the taste of warm blood in her mouth when the faint claimed her.

[thatsbucknasty]

she used to be mine (x) waitress au

summary: Inspired by the broadway musical. Y/N Beck is a pie baking force to be reckoned with. She’s pregnant with her lazy ass husband, Quentin Beck’s baby. As everything around her turns upside down, Doctor James Buchanan Barnes charms his way into her life.

pairing: Y/N x Bucky

tags are closed

chapter 10: I didn’t plan it

Two months pass and I realize it’s only a matter of weeks before I meet my baby girl. I’ve been working hard to save more money but I’m still not even close to the amount I’m gonna need for the birth AND the divorce. It’s been really hard to put my pride aside and accept the help my friends offer, I guess I’m used to being left to my own devices since I was very young. But I love my little family. Bucky and Sam drive me home every night after closing and Wanda has been bringing me gifts for the baby. Nat’s contact will be handling my divorce and she said they would give us a payment plan so that it won’t be so difficult to pay all at once. I still don’t understand how that’s gonna work but I trust her. She’s being very strange though, but Natasha’s one of those people who deal with issues on their own and compartmentalizes everything. Still, I’m worried about her. I guess I can’t judge her, we’re the same in that department.

Old Nick hasn’t been around much lately, says he’s taking care of his health. Guess my pies aren’t the healthiest meal for an eighty-something year old man. Maybe I should start adding more vegetables to my own diet, I’m creating life inside of me after all.

-

“Hey boys, what can I getcha?” Wanda flirts with Steve at the counter and Bucky laughs, he seems to be getting used to their corny, slightly inappropriate conversations.

“Oh I don’t know, sweetheart. What’s the special pie today?” Steve flirts back at her.

“Well, Y/N made her famous ‘Slutty brownie pie’ today and if you want, I could make it even sluttier-”

“Guys! Not in front of my salad, please!” Sam scolds them and Bucky’s just laughing at Steve’s red cheeks. Wanda rolls her eyes at him and motions Steve to follow her away from the group.

I come out of the kitchen ready to leave and see Steve and Wanda making out in the far corner of the counter, while Bucky and Sam talk about an AC/DC concert they both attended back when they didn’t know each other. Sam’s also taking care of his diet it seems, but Bucky’s stuffing his mouth with my brownie pie. I don’t actually understand how he can eat so much and still look absolutely stunning.

“Guys! Keep it in your pants. It’s movie night, we’re leaving!” I scold them and Steve’s blush has reached his ears and neck at this point.

“Thank you! I’m glad to know I’m not the only one who thinks those two are such horny teenagers”. Sam throws his hands in the air and hangs his apron, ready to go.

“I think they’re adorable, but I’m tired and hungry, and I don’t want any more pie today so let’s go, where’s Nat?” I look around trying to find the redhead.

“She said she needed to be alone tonight but she’ll be at the party tomorrow”. Wanda says and we share the same worried look on our eyes.

“Oh, okay. Shall we?”

We get to Bucky’s apartment and today’s pick is on Steve cause tomorrow’s his birthday. He chooses 1986’s Labyrinth. We order pizza and sushi and enjoy the magical spectacle on the screen.

I can’t stop thinking about my divorce and all the bills that are waiting for me in the future. Raising a child isn’t cheap. Bucky holds my hand at one point, under the blanket that we’re sharing. I guess he senses my worry and tries to make it go away. I’m glad he does. Lately I’ve just been letting myself fall for him because fighting against it it’s a lost cause. He’s the sweetest guy, brings me home safely anytime he’s able to, he cares about my friends and most importantly, he’s patient and doesn’t rush me to do anything I’m not ready to do. His parents raised him right, what’s a girl supposed to do?

-

Next day is organized chaos, thanks to Wanda and her frantic need for everything to be perfect. She really loves Steve and he’s a good guy. They deserve each other, truly.

Nat’s helping Sam hang decorations around Wanda’s backyard. It’s a mixture of 4th of July colors and Happy Birthday signs. We’re not doing the whole fireworks thing, since Wanda’s birthday present for Steve wouldn’t like the noise. But there’s a flatscreen set up to watch them on tv.

I’m in the kitchen, chopping some tomatoes for a pico de gallo I’m making. Bucky’s setting up the barbecue outside and I can see him from the window. He keeps messing it up and starting again, making the funniest, exasperated faces. I told him Steve could do it in no time but he insisted he’s the birthday boy and should just enjoy this day.

Speaking of Steve, he’s on his way. It ain’t a surprise party but we still wanted to set everything up before he got here.

-

We’re all enjoying the cool summer breeze, watching football on a projector Wanda set up in the backyard, we have hotdogs and guacamole and chips, the guys have beer which of course I can’t have, but Bucky was kind enough to make me an entire jug of pink lemonade just for me. I’m not really interested in the game, to be honest and my bladder is full so I separate myself from Buck and look around to realize Natasha isn’t here. Since this is not my house and I need to find the restroom I ask Wanda for some help instead and we enter the house together. 

She points me to the toilet and I open the door to find Nat and Sam wrapped around each other, half naked.

“OH MY GOD! What’s happening here?!” I immediately cover my eyes and close the door.

“Y/N, you’re okay? What is it? Don’t tell me you found a rat cause I hate them so much, Gosh I told Steve we should’ve done this at my place, is way cleaner”.

“I- I- no- um. It’s not a rat it’s a- um. I’m sorry-”

“Y/N! Let me explain-” Natasha comes out the restroom with her blouse half buttoned up, makeup almost completely ruined.

“I don’t- I don’t need you to expla- can somebody please lead me to another bathroom or something? I’m about to piss myself!”

“Sure, honey, let’s go”. Wanda grabs me, she apparently understands what’s going on, looking at Nat’s disheveled state and brings me upstairs to another room.

-

“What’s going on? I heard the girls yell”. Bucky enters the house and sees Sam and Nat cornered in the kitchen, looking like they’ve seen a ghost.

“Nothing, man. I think it’s time for me to leave. Say happy birthday to Steve for me”. Sam kisses Nat on the cheek and leaves the house.

“Wha- Natasha, are you okay?” Bucky stands there awkwardly, trying to break the tension.

“I’m fine, but the girls and I need to talk privately. Would you distract Steve for us? He doesn’t need to hear about this. Tell him we’re talking about pregnancy stuff with Y/N or something”.

“Oh-kay? Are you sure you’re alright though, you seem-”

“I’m fine, Bucky. Now go talk to Steve, he’s out there alone on his birthday”.

“Well, he looks fine! He’s watching the Patriots destroy the- Okay got it, see you later”. Bucky awkwardly scurries down to the kitchen and grabs a couple more beers and brings them outside.

-

“Knock-knock”. Natasha enters Steve’s bedroom and sees Wanda sitting on the bed.

“Hey”.

“Hey. Y/N still peeing?”

“I don’t think so. But I think she’s crying”.

“God she’s always so dramatic”.

“Hey! You should’ve told us! Do you know how worried about you we’ve been? We thought you were sick or something! Not wanting to hang out with us. We were supposed to plan a baby shower for her by now but you’ve been M.I.A.”.

“ I know, and I’m sorry”. Nat sighs and knocks on the bathroom door.

“Y/N, come out. We know you’re done so let’s go. We need to talk”.

-

I wipe my tears. I don’t know why I feel betrayed. Sam and Nat are my best friends, I should be happy for them. Damn hormones making me cry like a little baby every time something’s out of place.

“Hey”. I sniff and open the door to see Natasha rolling her eyes at me.

“Why the hell are you crying?”

“Oh I’m sorry for being a hormonal mess but seeing two of my best friends, one of them who’s married by the way, making out like horny teenagers would definitely cause me some distress!”

“Uh huh, and how is this any different to you and Bucky holding hands and making eyes at each other every single minute? May I remind you, you’re still married too!”

“Oh my God, Natasha, you did not! I’m getting a divorce, you know that!”

“Yeah, I know. And I understand and not make a fuss about it, until you decide to judge me for the exact same thing you’ve been doing!”

“Why- ah. Sorry, I know I’m looking like a complete hypocrite right now. It’s just- you guys are my friends and you’ve been acting so strange lately, it had me so worried and I feel like I could’ve been there for you, just as much as you’ve been there for me. You guys are my sisters”.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But Sam and I wanted to figure out what we wanted first and you know how I am. I fall down the rabbit hole and I keep it to myself cause I’m too proud to admit I’m weak”.

“Natasha, please. You’re anything BUT weak. You’re the one who’s always showing us how strong we really are!” Wanda chimes in and holds both mine and Nat’s hands in hers.

“Okay girls, listen up, from now on we need to make a pact that whenever one of us starts to close off from each other, we will make an intervention for that person and keep ourselves accountable for our shitty ways to cope with men, and life, and money problems, and cleaning obsessions, is that clear?” Nat kisses the top of my head and Wanda laughs at her declaration.

Somehow I feel like everything’s about to change, hopefully for the better.

-

chapter 11: she used to be mine

[sorry-i-ship-drarry]

36. Angel

prompt used - Lifting the other one up | fluff | mentions of f*cking | to @drarry-is-my-therapy because she's an angel and it's her birthday. Happy Birthday love.

The drowning sun reflected over the stagnant waters, making it glow in red and yellow, the soft breeze humming in their ears as they Walked barefoot with their shoes in their hands intensely conversing about the movie they had watched a week ago. It was in a faint hesitation harry spoke up to the silver boy glowing in golden.

" think we should try to recreate that scene where he picks the girl up in the air, for fun "

" oh yes, golden boy, as if it's that easy "

" it seemed easy" harry shrugged.

Draco contemplated for a moment, he would be lying to himself if he said that he didn't wanted to try it out but it seemed far too risky

" it wasn't "

And yet somehow harry with his amazing pursuing skills had convinced draco to recreate that specific dance scene from dirty dancing.

" I can't believe you're making me do this " draco shook his head as his rubbed his palms together as if he was getting ready.

" just run alright, I'll catch you. Just trust me " harry motioned his hands in a gesture to indicate draco to run towards him

" that's the problem, I trust you too much " and with that Draco ran forward towards Harry and just when it came for harry to catch him, he stepped aside, making him fall on face over the beach sand.

" what the fuck was that for?" Draco looked up from the ground at harry

" I'm sorry, I just got scared. It suddenly seemed scary, I'm sorry , fuck I should've said something-"

" damn right you should've said something " draco groaned, half wet from falling over the sand and his hair covered in sand itself.

" I'm sorry, I really am " harry nervously said as draco flipped so he was facing harry

" you bloody idiot " draco grimaced

" sorry " harry pressed his lips in a thin line and offered his hand for draco to take, which obviously in his pride he didn't take and swatted Harry's hand away.

"fuck " and just in the moment harry immediately grabbed onto draco's waist and helped him stand

" are you alright ?" Harry asked concerned

" I think- I sprained my ankle you dimwit " draco grimaced in pain

" let's get you to hospital" and with that harry grabbed all his thing's and apparated them to a muggle hospital nearby.

" well, whatever happened, the sprain is a bit more severe, not that it's a fracture but it will take a few days to recover. So try not to walk too much and apply these ointments " the doctor with spectacles said

Draco shot harry a threatening glare before thanking the doctor and leaving with harry.

" I said I'm sorry " harry rolled his eyes at Draco, taking away the bag of ointments from him and his jacket too, leaving draco to carry nothing

" that doesn't change this sprain harry " draco rolled his eyes. Just as they stepped outside the doors of the clinic, draco winced.

" maybe we shouldn't apparate. I wouldn't want you to have any splinching " harry suggested

" I can't walk " draco responded.

" well, there's not much option-"

" carry me " draco smuggly said as if he was waiting to say this for a long time

" what?" Harry questioned, somewhat shocked at such a proposal

" yes carry me. It will compensate for you causing this injury and we'll go home too. It's not that far anyway " draco frowned trying to explain harry how it wasn't such a bad idea.

" I- well it only makes sense though " harry pouted looking at the road ahead, thinking about how far he'd had to go.

" you've not more options. Give me a piggy back ride. I'm sure the flirtatious doctor would appreciate it "

" one,he wasn't flirting with me and second you're very demanding "

" you wanna fight me ?" Draco raised his eyebrows in a threatening way

Harry chuckled " Darling, I think you'd definitely lose. Now hop on" he kneeled onto the ground for draco to cling his arms and legs around him.

" don't drop me " draco said as he finally put his arms around Harry's neck. In a Swift move, harry put his arms under draco's thighs and got up.

" wow, you weigh too much. Draco I think you're getting fat " harry teased as he hopped draco a little to get a good grip then finally started walking

" I have not " draco hit Harry's head Playfully, adjusting his face in Harry's neck, breathing into it

" are you sure, because I think otherwise"

" please I work out. Have you seen yourself ?"

" you mean being fit and having a good physique, thank you very much "

As much as draco wanted to deny that, he didn't because God knows why he had Always adored Harry's body. Well adore is a bit too smooth of a word for saying he had always found himself staring at harry if he ever got a chance. It was so finely carved with all the curves and abs at the right places, the toned muscles, the slightly broad shoulders with perfectly not too much toned arms and a perfect arse. Draco every once in a while allowed himself to gawk like an owl at harry, but never would he ever admit that harry was considerably hot, especially whenever harry wore draco's sweater.

" whatever " draco rolled his eyes hoping he had not blushed.

They talked on their way over, giggling about things, making jokes about each other, discussing celebrity crushes. Harry felt odd with draco breathing on his neck. He had never felt this way before, the way draco's giggles in his ears sounded so soft and his breathing down his neck causing shivers and the smile he'd feel over his neck caused a fluttering effect in his stomach, like butterflies and the way draco just seemed to talk today was so different that harry wondered how had he never admired his voice before, of his hands, or his fingers or his laughter, everything about him but whatever it was, harry enjoyed feeling it. It was new and Harry was a sucker for new things.

Just as they reached draco's flat, harry first helped him get waters, then taking him to his bedroom while harry fetched the ointments he left at the kitchen table top. When harry returned to his room, he only found draco standing with his sprained leg spread out, without a shirt. He did work out, and it seemed pretty hot..

" what ?" Draco asked when he saw harry simply staring at him

"you're fat " Harry lied blushing, keeping the ointments on the bed

" well, thank you harry for thinking I'm hot " Draco smirked, putting on a new shirt. Harry allowed himself to stare at his soft chest, the left part of his chest covered with a phoenix tattoo, the v line disappearing under his pants and his abs glowing softly in the dim room light and the way draco was putting on a shirt, Harry only wondered why ?

But before could notice harry practically lusting over him, he had moved his eyes to the opposite side of the room, much to draco's disappointment.

" well, I'd come back later?" Harry asked

Draco thought for a moment before nodding " you're going to be at that get together at Ron's place, right " harry nodded " right, so pick me up. I don't think I'd be able to drive or apparate till then "

Harry nodded again before telling him when would be come to pick him up and finally going home with such eruptions of feelings he had once felt for Ginny, but something completely different. Harry didn't think much about it.

Over the next few days as harry spent picking up draco and helping him with regular things, he found it hard to resist himself from feeling things for him. Even if so he wanted to ignore them, he'd just find draco fondly looking at him and harry would blush like a flower and simply turn away, inappropriate thoughts rushing into his mind. The truth as harry spent thinking about in night was that, harry might've always liked draco in some way but right now, the way he felt just made him want to do things he could only possibly think of. But having learnt about heartbreak ages ago, he found himself Afraid of such feelings. He promised himself that he wouldn't fall for anyone who was just, ordinary but then again, draco wasn't ordinary.

The night finally came for the get together at Ron's place before he left for a 6 month mission to southern Europe and would not return until it's done. Despite the fact that it was a normal get together, everyone invited for forced not to dress too casual nor too formal, something harry never quite understood. Voila, comes the fashion king into his mind, draco. He had irrevocably amazing fashion sense and nobody could deny that so he picked up a few shirts, pants and jeans and drove to draco's place an hour early.

" you're early " Draco frowned as he opened the door wider for harry to come in

" fashion advice " and without a doubt draco understood what he meant..

They moved into the living room, draco settling down on the couch with harry standing in front of him with a bunch of clothes.

" what the hell not too casual and not too formal Is supposed to mean ?" Harry rolled his eyes as he dropped everything onto the chair.

" well technically it means the event is special but with close people. I have dibs on how maybe he's going to propose Hermione "

" you know what, I thought soo too " harry gossiped

" anyways, I think you should go with a nice pants and a button down shirt " draco suggested

" that's what I'm standing in " harry said with a as a matter of factedly face

" well- that's right. Show me what you got " draco ordered and one by one harry started showing him everything he could bring only for all of it to be rejected by him.

" well, we've run out of clothes " harry said as he looked down at the pile of shirts and pants on the other chair.

" that is true- you know what. I have a shirt for you, I bought it sometime ago but it's a bit lose and you can just pair it up with any of the black pants "

" what are you waiting for then. Show me " harry excitedly said

" well a fractured man can only walk so fast "

" you don't have a fracture "

" but I can take the advantage of saying that " Draco's voice echoed as he walked down the hallway into his bedroom, fetched the shirt and came back.

" I've got to admit you're quite dramatic. I'm pretty sure the sprain is fine by now. It doesn't even have a swelling " harry said as he took the shirt from draco's hands

" what do you know " draco narrowed his eyes at harry before settling down in the couch before harry.

Harry placed the blood red shirt over his chest, frowning at how good it looked

" didn't know you liked red now ?"

" rare occasions. Wear it. I've got to get ready too "

And with that Draco departed into his room to get ready. Harry had just began to put on his shirt when draco walked into the living room asking for something.

" oh " Draco's Throat echoed as he saw harry shirtless

" what ?"

" I didn't know you were- well undressed " draco blushed

" not like you haven't seen me this way before" Harry shrugged putting on the shirt.

Why, god, why, draco's inner voice screamed in lust.

" anyway- which one is better ?" Draco asked still blushing

" both are good draco. You've got a nice dressing sense "

" don't flatter me. I can't wear both, choose one " draco asked again. Harry scanned both the shirts.

" the light blue satin shirt. Makes your skin- eyes look good " harry Blushed.

Draco wondered what the fuck was harry blushing for when he was the one complimented with one of the finest compliments.

" I did not know that " draco said lowly

" well now you do " harry smiled. Draco nodded before walking away, the glimpse of harry rolling his sleeves invading his senses.

After about half an hour, they both were fully dressed and ready to go.

" you look good " harry complimented

" so do you " draco smiled in returned

" shall we ?" Harry as he pointed the door.

When Draco finally nodded, they both departed to Ron's place, realising the get together was at the roof top.

Half-way through the party, harry sensed Draco was probably right and was still finding it hard to not see Draco from all the way across the room. There was no men finer in the entire room other than him and harry hated it as much as he loved it. It was excruciating to find someone so attractive who was your best friend who you had no chance with but the desire to want him was longingly growing inside his chest.. he was so desirable across the entire room, bunched about with a few people, laughing and smiling over something harry couldn't possibly decipher. His thoughts ran in his head like an endless loop until the boy in Harry's desirable dreams saw him and paused his ongoing conversation and made his way towards harry. Caught in the act he tried to busy himself with the bottom of his shirt until the other man cleared his throat.

" oh, didn't see you there draco "

" right, so you were looking at ..."

" pansy. She looks good in that dress "

" Pansy isn't even here harry " draco chuckled, blocking Harry's line of sight.

" oh"

Draco genuinely smiled at harry knowing exactly that he wasn't the only boy caught in the loop of desiring the other.

" so you want to pretend that you weren't looking at me for half the party, not to mention with an admirable gaze " draco smirked crossing his arms in front of him

" that would be nice " harry frowned lightly

" well then I have to pretend that I wasn't checking you out back at the flat almost as admirably as you were " Draco smugly said as he shifted besides harry, standing against the railing..

" as long as we're pretending then I think I'll pretend I didn't check you out a couple of days ago when you were changing " harry replies smiling, almost liking this pretend game.

" okay then, I'll pretend that I haven't checked you out everytime you're shirtless, or everytime you wear one of my sweater or when you ruffle your hair " draco smirked. Harry raised an eyebrow at Draco, slightly amused

" then I'll pretend that I didn't enjoy carrying you on mu back a few days ago because I got to be close with you " harry smirked

" then I'll pretend that I don't like being this close to you " draco said as he stepped forward..

" then I'll pretend that I don't have these fluttering feelings for you which seems to invade all my senses "

" I'll pretend that I haven't liked you for almost forever "

" then I'll pretend that I don't want to take you home right now "

" I'll pretend I didn't agree "

______________________________

" I knew you bought that shirt for me " harry lazily smiled as he softly grazed draco's naked arms spread over his chest covered on blankets

" don't flatter yourself potter " draco rolled his eyes as he snuggled further into harry

" fine I won't but doesn't stop me from teasing you about how you let me fuck almost 5 times last night alone " harry grinned cheekily as if it was proud achievement

" If you do it again, you are going to regret it " Draco softly threatened

" well you did let me, not once, not twice, not thrice, not fou- what's the word- four times , five times-"

" you're an asshole " draco rolled his eyes

" well I'd like to be your asshole, if you want me to be ?" Harry asked, worried if he had ruined the conversation by bringing this up.

" if you don't shut up and let me sleep, I won't let you be my asshole but if you do, I'd let you be so much more " draco yawned, tired from all the activities from last night.

Harry chuckled at the lightness of the tone before kissing the top of draco's forehead.

" sweet dreams angel "

And draco hummed, falling fast asleep again in Harry's arm..

Unedited

Day 35 - every inch of you | Day 37- you're my home, draco

[yujaecha]

BTS at a Carnival Date | Scenario/Imagine

Info: fluff & tiny angst

Pairing: BTSxReader

Warnings: Alcohol, drunkenness, fainting

A/n: Loved doing this request! I loved the idea of a fun carnival vibe, though through writing, I don’t think I’ve ever been to an actual carnival! Can you believe that? Haha, I’m hoping my imagined idea is good enough! I’m picturing like brazil-carnival-colourfulness, like Rio carnival, which may be a little stereotypical, but I love the idea of this kind of energy!

NOTE: Y/F/N = Your friend's name and Y/F/BF = Your friend's boyfriend.

If you would like to make a request for a scenario, imagine, reaction, mtl, ship, or anything really take a look at my faq, and then drop me a request.

Song rec: Carnival B.A.P

Jin

You and Jin had wandered around the carnival for a few hours; the crowd had spread to the side street parties after the main procession. There were so many people around still, drinking, eating, dancing, and generally having fun. It was even beginning to get dark, but the atmosphere was still so vibrant and lively.

“Should we head home soon?” Jin inquired, as you weaved in and out around people. You absolutely did not want the night to be over just yet.

“I’m kind of hungry actually, why don’t we get some food then head off?”

“Ooh, good idea,” he scanned the small and tightly packed street

“There’s a table over there. Let's grab it quick before it gets taken!”

“Good spot!” You said, rushing towards the space. Fortunately, you managed to get there before anyone else.

“We can’t leave this spot until we are ready to leave; it’ll get snatched up so quickly." He said, looking around at the crowd; it even seemed to be getting busier compared to before.

“Did you enjoy the carnival?” You asked him. You hadn’t been seeing each other for that long, a few weeks, really. You were still getting to know each other, so you didn’t know if your suggestion to go to the carnival was a good one.

“It was great Y/N, really!” He was all smiles, which made you smile too.

“Ah, I’m glad.” You took a sigh of relief hearing he had enjoyed the date.

“Remember that man in the procession, the one in all blue on the stilts?”

“Yeah! He was super impressive; I couldn’t dance wearing those!” You admit.

“I’d love to see you try!” You both laughed. You continued to talk about the carnival, and Jin, perhaps accidentally, suggested you should both go back the following year together.

“Together?” You repeated, you didn't mean to sound surprised, but deep down, you didn't expect for him to suggest it so confidently.

“Of course!” He says firmly, making you blush. You both ordered some food and continued to talk about everything and anything. The food arrived, and it was incredible! Street food is seriously the best.

Eventually, you were reaching the end of your meals, and Jin noticed your shift in mood.

“What’s wrong Y/N?”

“Oh, I just realised that once we’ve finished the food, we should probably leave. The thing is, I’m just having so much fun.” You admit.

“I suppose… We’ll have to get some dessert then?” He suggested with a smirk. He clearly didn’t want to leave either.

Jin left the table in your hands to get something sweet for the two of you, meanwhile you leant on the table, far more tired than you had realised. You were so zoned out, you didn't realise Jin had returned, only when you felt something pressed onto your nose, buttercream frosting! You wake up out of your daze in shock as Jin giggles.

“Wakey wakey!” He laughs uncontrollably.

“Oh no, you didn’t!” You said, grabbing a small piece of cake and flicking it towards him. He stared in shock as it hits him in the cheek and a mischievous look appeared on his face in response. He flicked another piece towards you and you again back to him.

“Food fight!” you hear someone from the next table shout, and within no time, food is flying everywhere, and the whole of the street party is taking part in the madness!

Once everything had calmed down, you and Jin fell into each other’s arms, exhausted from the long day and then the food fight. You notice Jin staring at your lips.

He leans in “Oh. You have something there…” and picks off a small piece of cake frosting from the side of your mouth with his, rather teasingly. He smirked “got it.”

Suga

Yoongi really was not vibing the atmosphere of the carnival. He was complaining a lot about anything and everything.

“It’s so loud.” He groaned.

“It’s just music and people having fun! Stop being so grumpy.” You replied; it was your idea to go to the carnival in the first place, and you didn’t appreciate his attitude.

“There are so many people, too many!” He added. You decided to just let him carry on and walk with him without. It was your idea to come to the carnival after all, so you weren’t going to let his sour mood ruin it.

You weaved about, walking slightly ahead of Yoongi. There were many food and trinket stalls dotted along the carnival route, slightly away from the main bulk of people. But you couldn't help but feel a little deflated; you were missing the main spectacle to keep him happy. You grabbed some food and stood at the side to eat as all the tables were taken. You attempted to make conversation, but you’re pretty annoyed with him yourself.

“This is so good!” He declared, the first positive he had said thing all day.

“Well, at least one of us is having a good time.” You joked sarcastically, not really paying attention, trying to see the floats over the crowd. Your tone caught his attention, and he finally noticed you looking longingly at the procession and understood what his constant comments had done.

“Y/N, I’m sorry.” He looked at you. “I was just hungry, and it's hot. I shouldn’t have complained so much…” he trailed off a little.

“Don’t worry,” you sigh, “It’s not really your sort of thing anyway, is it?”

“That shouldn’t matter. I should have tried more; you wanted to come here, so I should have tried harder, for you.” He said earnestly.

“Let’s try and squeeze our way through? See what's going on?” He suggested, finishing up the food quickly.

“Are you sure?” you asked, and he nodded enthusiastically in response, a complete mood 360; I guess the food gave him a boost of energy.

You both try weaving through the spectators, but it’s no good; the crowd lining the procession is way too dense. Defeated, you decide to give up, but Yoongi knew it was pretty much his fault you didn’t get a spot earlier.

“Ah! I have an idea!” He said as he looks around “Stay right here for a minute, don’t move an inch!”

You stand there for a while wondering what he has up his sleeve, until he returns with a wide smile.

“Follow me!” He said excitedly, grabbing your hand and leads you to a nearby café. Confused, you follow him inside and up to the upper floor. The large room was cool away from the sun, and two glass doors that opened to a balcony with a perfect view of the carnival below. “Much better, huh? I think this is the best view.” He said, leading you out to look down at the procession, putting his arms around you as you both lean on the balcony rail and watch, away from all the crowds and commotion.

“I guess this way it’s the best of both worlds.” You laugh, leaning back into his chest. He really is good at making up for any moodiness. “Remind me to make the most of post-hangry Yoongi again! He's far more romantic than normal!”

J-Hope

Hobi would be so, so excited to be going on a date to the carnival; he’d literally be even more smiley and excitable than usual! He’d dress up pretty “loud,” if you get what I mean, and he would really embrace the day and overall vibes. It’s a place you can both fully immerse yourselves with music, dancing, and fun – his ideal date, really. I feel like he'd be the most likely one to plan this day solely by himself too.

The floats began to pass by gradually as the main part of the carnival began. You were both locked together, and he was pointing out anything and everything excitedly to you; it was such a rush to the senses.

“Ohh, look at that!” He said excitedly.

"How do they do that?" You said, staring at the float passing by.

“Look at that guy’s outfit!”

"He's so flashy!" You laugh together.

"I'd totally wear that." He said, leaning his head onto yours as you continue to look upon the brightly lit festivities.

"You'd look great too." You said matter-of-fact.

"You think so?" He asked excitedly.

"You look good in everything!" You replied, making him squeal cutely.

Suddenly, Hobi's expression changes, as the music, good music began to get louder and louder, more upbeat. You see his expression shift from joy, to curiosity, to a wide-eyed look nodding his head towards the road.

Before you know it, he had pulled you out into the procession, and he was shaking his hips like he’s part of the carnival from the beginning. Of course, he was encouraging you to dance too, you were just laughing at him and the situation. You had just been watching so peacefully, and now you were right in the middle of everything. At that point, what did you have to lose? You danced with him, and, for the most part, blended in with everyone else, but to the two of you, it was as if you are the only two there.

His eyes light up when he sees a nearby bloat with bright glittering lights, and you already know what he’s thinking.

“You can’t!” You said.

“Oh, I definitely can try!” He replied cheekily, giving you a mischievous smile. You couldn't help but cringe at his confidence; you really didn't understand how he did it. He disappeared behind the float, and you walked tentatively alongside, expecting him to come back disappointed, but next thing you know, he emerged atop the float, waving at you to come closer. You approached, so many people’s eyes are on the two of you now. He held out his hands.

“Come on! Get on with me!" And you did, because why the heck not? It was carnival after all, and you were there to have a good time! Somehow the two of you were receiving some of the most cheers from the crowd, or Hobi’s dance moves were at least!

“I can’t believe you!” You said, leaning towards him.

“You love it! Isn’t this way more fun than just watching?” He asked; you couldn't help but agree.

RM

You and Joonie had planned your whole vacation around this one day, you had never experienced a large-scale carnival like this, and you were both so excited. However, there was one issue, the traffic was mad!

You hadn’t really thought about the people, just the celebration. You both sat in the taxi, facing away from one another in silence for a while. You knew how irritated he could get when things didn’t go to plan, so you thought it was best to just remain quiet to avoid an argument.

“I’m sorry,” he finally piped up; you looked at him questioningly. “I should have thought of this; I didn’t think it would be this crazy.”

“It’s fine! We didn’t know.” You assure him. “It’s as much my fault, really don’t beat yourself up over it.” His expression didn’t shift. He began to talk with the taxi driver, seeing how easy it would be to turn around to head back to the hotel.

Defeated, you glanced out of the window and noticed other people abandoning their cars and approaching the carnival on foot. “Wait, don’t turn around!” You suddenly insisted, making both Namjoon and the taxi driver jump. “How long would it take to get there on foot?”

The driver explained it would take about a twenty-minutes to walk, if you were quick and told you a few shortcuts to take too.

“Come on!” You said, grabbing NamJoon’s hand. “If we run, we might make it for the big finale!”

“I don’t know, it’s quite far…” He said, looking in the direction of the carnival. He glanced at you and then his frown shifted to a smile “Do you know what? We’re on vacation! Why not?”

“Yes! Amazing, we’ll have to be quick, though!”

He flashes you a competitive look, a look you know well. “I’ll race you.” He said with a smirk.

“Oh, it’s on, Joonie!” You said back, “be prepared to lose.”

“Hah! We’ll see about that!” He said, grabbing the car door handle, making you do so also reflexively. You both exited the taxi (You paid the driver dw!) and began to run. NamJoon kept grabbing you from behind to sabotage you when you overtook him, and you could hardly run with the laughter between the two of you.

Fortunately, you managed to make it in time, and you managed to beat him too!

“I think looser has to buy drinks.” You insisted, out of breath.

“Hey, that wasn’t part of it.” He replied, also puffed out.

“Well, I’ve just decided that it is.” You said with a smirk and he nodded.

“Whatever you say, speedy.”

You wandered around for ages after the carnival was over, cooling down in the evening breeze. It was absolutely brilliant, more than you had imagined it to be, albeit a somewhat different experience.

Jimin

You had been stood now for a while, and you were cursing yourself for not buying that drink when you saw the seller just a while earlier. It was so hot, and you were feeling a little overwhelmed by all the people, colours, noise. It was a sensory overload.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jimin asked you once again, noticing your change of expression. You really didn’t want to let on that you were uncomfortable, so faked a bright smile.

“Sorry! I was just zoning out there.” You lied. He giggled at you before putting his arm around your shoulder affectionately. He returned his gaze to the floats and sways of people passing you by. Jimin would point out little details, but you couldn’t really focus and found yourself feeling very dizzy and lightheaded. He was so engrossed in the carnival procession, especially the dancing, and you were trying your best to be all smiles and play your part, but the sun shone down hot and heavy onto your head. Someone bumped into you both from behind, pushing you forward slightly.

“Woah, watch where you’re going!” You think you heard Jimin say, but that’s when the world started spinning, and your vision blacked out entirely.

You woke up away from the crowd a little, laying on your back. You weren't sure how long you had been out of it, but the atmosphere was still busy, and the air was still warm.

“Drink this Y/N! You’re okay, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” You heard a familiar voice trying to comfort you from above, but you could hear the slight panic in his voice too.

“I’m okay, I’m okay!” you said, trying to sit up, but Jimin held you back.

“Not so fast! I don’t want you fainting again!” You complied, leaning back into his embrace. He leant forward, fanning your face with a pamphlet for the carnival.

“I’m sorry,” you said, defeated. “I really wanted you to enjoy the carnival, but there were so many people, and it was so hot and-“

“-It’s okay!” Jimin said, cutting you off. “Really, I’d much rather you were okay than anything.” You sighed in agreement, with a pang of disappointment through you.

“I’m really okay now. Let’s go back and watch the rest.” You insisted.

“Oh, no way! I asked some guy to go and find a medic. You’re not moving an inch until they get here.” You couldn’t help but love how protective he was. Just a short while before, he was engrossed in the carnival, but now it was like you were the only thing that mattered to him in the world, as you lay in his arms.

The medic came, gave you the all-clear after a while, noting it was probably heat exhaustion. Jimin promised to take better care of you from then on, and you hated how he seemed to blame himself for not taking more notice when you aren't as cheery as he had expected watching the carnival. You tried to insist on returning to catch the end of the procession, but he wouldn’t let you leave the seat they had found for you. You were all pouty and felt undeniably guilty for ruining the day.

“I won’t let you stand and watch, but I suppose I could carry you?” He said, turning around and holding his arms outstretched for a piggyback.

V

It was your first date with TaeHyung, and you were really regretting your choice of location. You had only just arrived, but you were already struggling to hear each other or even walk next to each other it was so crowded.

“Why don’t we go over there? It looks a little quieter,” you queried.

“Sorry, what did you say?” he asked, leaning in towards you to hear you better.

“Oh, um, I said-“

“-Why don’t we go over there?” He interrupted, not hearing you. “It seems a bit less busy.”

You nodded in agreement and made your way towards a slightly more open space. It was no use, every time you tried to talk; something stopped the two of you from hearing each other; the band passing by, a child crying, two people stood near you laughing. You were beginning to worry it would ruin your chance with him altogether; a first date is enormously important after all.

“Are you hungry? Thirsty?” He asked you, shouting a little to be heard.

“I could have something,” you replied.

“Cotton candy?” he asked, pointing at a vendor.

You headed over together. He ordered one cotton candy and a bottle of water for each of you. You walked around the parameter of the carnival sharing the sweet treat; it was a little easier to hear each other there but still not good.

“Thank you for buying that. I’ll get the next thing,” you insisted, he laughed.

“It’s lively, isn't it? The carnival.”

“Yeah…” You looked around awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

He stopped walking, turning towards you. “Why are you apologising? I don't mind it.”

“Because it’s such a bad choice for our first date, we can’t even speak.”

“Hmm, how can we fix this…” He thought hard, “Ah! I know,” He placed his arm around you swiftly, pulling you in close to him. “This is better right?” You panicked internally but tried hard not to let it show. You just nodded; after all, it was a lot easier to hear each other, if nothing else.

You continued, now far closer than before. As you walked, you spotted a group of kids dancing to the carnival band down a small side street away from the crowd. You giggle, looking at them having fun; Tae took note.

“Hey, you guys have some great moves!” He complimented them, approaching them “Do you think you could teach us how to dance like that?”

“Yeah! We’ll teach you!” The smallest one replied eagerly, pulling at his hand “you can be my partner.”

“Oh, I actually want to be Y/N’s partner, see she’s my date for today, and I wouldn't want her to be upset if I danced with someone else.”

“Ohhh, you’re on a date!” The kids replied in unison, eyeing the two of you.

"You’re really cute together!” The little one said with a wide grin. “That’s okay, I’ll dance with my brother, and we’ll show you, just copy us, okay?”

“That sounds great!” He replied to the kids, who had gotten very excited to teach two grown-ups their dance.

Tae took you by the hands, and sort of following your instructors, you danced together, laughing constantly.

“You two! Hurry up, the main float is coming!” A woman’s voice sounded behind you, the kid’s mother presumably.

“Ow, but we wanted to stay here!”

“No, come along now!” she insisted.

“I guess we have to go now.” The girl pouted.

“Well, thank you for teaching us your dance moves!” You said, leaning down to her “you’re a great teacher.” You held out both your hands for high fives, and she perked up slightly. Her brother high fived you too, and Taehyung held his hands to them too.

The kids left the side street leaving just Tae and yourself behind and suddenly the quiet between you seemed even louder than any noise from the whole day so far.

“We could stay here and dance some more?” Taehyung suggested, breaking the awkward space between you and stepped forward, holding his hands out to you again.

“I’d like that.” You admitted and took his hands once again. You began to dance, only he held you slightly closer this time…

Jungkook*

You and JungKook approach the carnival hand in hand; you were so excited. You noticed he seemed a little quiet, but it was the first time he was meeting your friend, one of your best friends from when you were kids too. You had arranged for him to meet her at the carnival; in theory, taking some of the awkwardness away. Plus, she was bringing her boyfriend too, so there was someone for Jungkook to get on with, and he wasn’t left out while the two of you caught up. You spotted them first and ran excitedly towards them. You had known your friend for years, and didn't mind her boyfriend, though you never really saw just what she saw in him.

“This is him then! Nice to meet you Jungkook, I’m Y/F/N” She said holding out her hand to shake, you instinctively laughed at her formality.

He shook it tentatively with a slight giggle. “Nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot!”

“Good things,” you assured her, as your friend shot you a worried look. “Of course! Always good things.”

“So, this is the most recent addition to your long list of lovers then Y/N?” Your friend’s boyfriend joked, mocking your tragic lack of romance in the past, which he and your friend were all too aware of.

“Long list huh?” Jungkook asked surprised looking at you, you thought you saw a speck of jealousy but shrugged it off, he already knew your history, you had both been very open from the start.

“Ha! Yeah, as if!” You scoffed.

The four of you headed towards the carnival, where people are already gathering for the main procession along the main route. You all stood together, you and your friend reminiscing about old times. Jungkook listened to your old stories attentively, laughing along, while your friend's boyfriend wasn't really paying much interest. You looked towards Jungkook, who was staring at your friend's boyfriend as his girlfriend spoke, you could now tell for sure he was a little annoyed towards him.

“Are you okay?” You asked in a lowered voice, so the other two didn’t hear.

“You're not close with T/F/BF?”

“Not really, no. The three of us went to school together but I didn’t really know him much until they started dating.” You assured him. "Why?"

“He seems... uninterested.” He said, trailing off.

“He was just joking earlier, about my love life, I promise you.”

“No, no, I trust you, Y/N, really. I just didn’t appreciate the joke, nor his general attitude.” He admitted.

“Well, he’s just a bit of an overly confident guy; he doesn’t know when a joke is too much.”

You continued to watch the carnival together and decide to head away from the crowd for a drink.

“How much of a lightweight are you then, Jungkook?” Your friend’s boyfriend asked mockingly as you approached a pop-up bar. Oh dear! You look at Jungkook, who rolls his eyes.

“You want to see?” He asked him confidently, not breaking eye contact.

“Oh my gosh! Yes! Drinking game!” Your friend said excitedly, and you groan.

“Really, are we doing this?” You ask. Jungkook shoots you a look you recognise. He’s getting competitive.

Many, many rounds later, Jungkook slammed the glass down first. He had downed that one easy while Your friend’s boyfriend was struggling. Your friend was rubbing his back for encouragement, but it was no good; he turned to throw up.

“I guess I won?” Jungkook said, standing up with a wide grin, leaning towards you for a victory hug.

“Wow! I didn’t know you could drink so much!” You said, kind of impressed.

“Yeah, I really can’t. Please help me stand up straight,” he said with a low laugh; he was leaning on you heavily.

Your friend helped carry her boyfriend off, and they went to grab a taxi home. You left Jungkook on the road curb while you went to get him some water. When you returned, you dropped down to sit next to him. The carnival was coming to an end and the crowds dispersed. He rested his head on your shoulder and let out a big exhale.

“I think I’ll need some help standing up.” He admitted with a drunken chuckle. You sighed but agreed to look after him. It was hardly the way you had wanted the day to go, but you couldn’t help but be proud he put your friend’s boyfriend in his place and won, so you’d let him off this time.

*Not implying Jungkook os a drunk or anything just FYI!

[connorandersons-blog]

4, Connor and Gavin 😁

4.       “Only if you promise to be my valentine.”

Ok this turned out super cute!! Hope you enjoy!!

-------------------

Valentine's day was approaching and Connor had never seen so many hearts and chocolates in his life. Even the DPD had thrown some decorations up for the holiday. He couldn't help but be fascinated by his co-workers, though. Some seemed to absolutely hate the holiday, grumbling about how it was commercialized and stupid.

Then there were the co-workers who absolutely loved it. They kept fresh flowers on their desks, little notes from loved ones, and a smile on their faces.

Connor didn't know how to feel about it. In his mind, he couldn't understand why everyone was so focused on romantic love. Surely the day was meant to express all kinds of love, but no one seemed to care about the rest. He could agree that it was commercialized, but why not still enjoy it.

He was shocked to find little cards on his desk every morning of February, leading up to the day. Some were from officers that apparently had a crush on him, but he turned each one down as gently as possible. Others weren't signed so he simply had to guess. The ones that came every day without fail and seemed to be from one person really caught his attention.

They never asked to be his Valentine's, they were never signed but the handwriting looked oddly familiar. He decided not to scan it, he wanted this mystery for the holiday. Each small note wasn't on some pretty card but a sticky note. Every day he got a new compliment and every day he'd blush and make sure the note was safe with the rest in his desk.

It seemed that no one else got these notes and so he assumed that this was a secret admirer. Did they plan on revealing themselves on the big day or stay a secret?

Hank had teased him about being the department's sweetheart, but he quickly shut up when Connor pointed out the small box of chocolates on his own desk.

Connor hasn't given out any gifts but he planned to get Hank one for being so kind to him. He loved the man like a father but neither had said it out loud. It was a bit too soon for Hank and Connor could respect that.

He had one person he wanted to give a gift to, but he doubted it would be appreciated. Gavin didn't have anything on his desk anyway, and he scowled at everyone who mentioned Valentine's day.

Why did he hate it so much? He never commented on the commercialization. He just seemed to hate it. Connor wanted to change his mind.

He started with a mug that said 'let's keep the dumbfuckery to a minimum today' and left it on his desk without a note. He found it kind of funny that someone was doing something similar to him as he was doing for Gavin.

He was glad to find Gavin smirking at the mug and actually using it. He didn't seem to realize it was for Valentine's day, but that was fine by Connor.

Each gift was small and never left with any trace of who it was from or any notes. He was happy when Gavin seemed genuinely happy with each gift no matter how impractical it was.

There was supposed to be a party for those that could make it, and Connor wanted to go. He'd only ever gone to the parties New Jericho held and even then he was on edge, looking to protect Markus.

The closer it got the more invitations he got to go with people. He knew this was his chance, he could ask Gavin to go with him. The gifts he'd been giving him seemed to lighten his mood of the holiday but he still wasn't sure if his feelings would be reciprocated. What if the person leaving him those sweet notes wanted to go with him?

He had put it off, too nervous to approach and actually ask him. He considered Gavin somewhat of a friend, they got along better now, but what if his hate for androids was still there? What if he was disgusted at Connor for even thinking about being with him.

"I need a favor," Gavin said, tapping Connor's desk to get his attention.

His head snapped up, eyes widening. He'd been so lost in thought he hadn't even heard Gavin walk up. "Ok, but only if you promise to be my valentine." It was out of his mouth before he truly thought about it.

"Wait… What the fuck?" Gavin stepped back, crossing his arms. "Is this some kind of joke? You recording me to show my reactions?"

"No!" He quickly stood, moving around his desk. "I didn't even mean to say that."

Gavin huffed, rolling his eyes. "Oh, so it was just a mistake. Whatever just fuck off then, and I'll forget this ever happened."

God, he was fucking everything up, and he needed to fix it. He grabbed Gavin by the shirt and yanked him forward. He meant for a hug but then their lips crashed together and it was so right.

He pulled back, his hand pressed against Gavin's chest. He liked the way Gavin was panting, eyes still closed. "What the fuck, Connor?"

"Go to the party with me, as my date. I didn't mean to say it but I said because I wanted to. Does that make sense?" He was still so close, just a little closer and he could kiss him again.

"Yes, and yes. God yes!" The smile on Gavin's face was blinding. "It's me, those notes on your desk with the compliments, it was me. I couldn't tell you outright, but you still should know."

"The gifts were from me. I'm glad you liked the mug." Connor chuckled, thinking of all those kind notes. He'd wanted it to be Gavin, had hoped but didn't want to hope too much.

"Dude that's my favorite mug now! Where the hell did you get it?" Gavin leaned into him, hands going up and down his back.

"Not telling," Connor said, pressing their foreheads together.

"Thank fuck, it's about time, but could you two do this not in the middle of the office?" Hank's voice brought the two out of it, jumping apart.

"Shit! God damnit, Hank." Gavin grumbled, rubbing at his jaw.

Connor looked around, flushing even deeper when he noticed everyone quickly turning to go back to work. He hadn't meant to make a spectacle out of it, he just needed Gavin to know he meant it. "Shit, sorry Hank."

"Uh-huh. Just make sure to lock the door." Hank waved them off, rolling his eyes with a fond smile.

Connor bit his lip, glancing at Gavin. "Could I take you out to lunch? You can tell me about that favor you need." He held his hand out, and when Gavin slid his into it he let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"Might as well, I'd never pass up free food."

"Shut the fuck up." Connor snorted.

"Oh look at that, he can curse." Gavin bumped their shoulders together.

Connor leaned in and whispered something to him which had Gavin's face turning a beautiful shade of red. "I think I'm excited for tomorrow."

"You should be excited for tonight."

"Reed!" Hank scolded. "Still in earshot."

The two cracked up, saying their apologies to Hank. Connor had to admit, he was very excited for that night.

[glamrockmonarch]

The Land That Our Grandchildren Knew (B!Reader x Brian May)

THIS WORK IS PART OF THE ORIGINAL TIMELINE

Requested: NO

Type: SFW, FLUFF ?, ANGST.

Summary: A little glance at life back to normal after Brian and B!Reader get over the cheating scandal.

Warnings: None.

A/N: So this came out of nowhere in my mind. I have struggled with being creative for a while and I just do not know why(?) but here we are! I hope someone out there enjoys reading this one.

*For anyone who does not remember (lol it has been a while): B!Reader (often B!R) is "Brian!Reader", and R!Reader (or R!R) is "Roger!Reader".

“The one thing he did not know was how much I loved him. In a previous life, in a time when things were so much more complicated. When war was splitting us apart and leaving us breathless. Motionless in a world of aggressive turmoil. There was little we could do when everything was amiss. All around us things were blowing up, giving in upon themselves the buildings fell, and the cities died along with their lights and spectacles.

“The love I grew and nurtured for him was the last reminding power of the old Earth, scattered through the cosmos like dust as I searched for him in a ridiculous journey. I did not meet a king in a tiny planet, and I never saw a rose grow on the dry lands of the foreign space countries. We had each other but time made it so that I was here today while he was here yesterday. Today was never ours, today was a promise we believed and ate up and followed with blind eyes until the moment when the sound of truth, deafening and cruel, locked us out of each other’s life. And still, forever, my love for him is true and enduring. Out there, I know he will feel my presence in the air, see me in the clouds, savour me in the smell of rain and grass. He will miss me when the night is cold, and the sound of wind reminds him of my voice… Yes, he will be empty when he hears the silence, the way I will always feel too when I look back at Earth and regret every second spent away from the one who called me Venus.”

The crowd claps and smiles and I see the people in the front look at the books in their hands with expressions of confusion and deep thought. A good reason to write something is to make people wonder, so for B!Reader this one was a success. She had taken so long to finish the manuscript, not that she was being lazy; with the scandal of Brian cheating and the twins taking sides, it was hard to focus on this. This book was not what she intended on writing when she began doing research for it. It started with the Irish War of Independence, she went around Britain meeting historians with much better understanding and knowledge on the topic. It soon turned upside down when the news appeared on every single form of media… Brian’s stunt. She would call it what it was now; he had cheated.

It was hard to get over it. B!Reader took time off with her mother in Scotland, she had taken the kids with her, much to Brian’s displeasure, but he was in no position to complain. When she came back home, she was still defeated by the details. Brian’s lame explanation sounded more like an excuse but even she had to admit that her husband did not have the best track record when it came to women. She was probably the one he had been the most loyal to at that point – even when he had cheated on her once.

So, she tried. They sought professional help. A therapist. First couple’s therapy, and then one-on-one sessions alone. She hated every second of it, which could not have been fun to hear for their therapist. Nothing seemed to be helping, in fact B!Reader talked to a lawyer in secret… but her career was also on the line at that point, and she was desperate for ideas, desperate to reconnect with the only man she ever truly and completely loved. Her manager had the idea, “read some of Brian’s stuff, maybe ask him about his PhD work, maybe he will inspire you and if he doesn’t at least you will have spoken to each other… it’s worth a try”. And so B!R did that, although not in the way her manager had meant. She was stirring her on the direction of reading some of his lyrics not his space dust thesis… Nevertheless, the story began there.

B!R could not understand much, and she wound up spending a lot of time talking about physics and space with her husband. Brian was a patient teacher, she already knew that, but it was now being confirmed to her. He was also happy to be able to go on and on for hours, the topics where his cup of tea, and they had numerous cups of tea too while B!R took notes and began toying with a historical fantasy mix for her next book.

Today she was reading from her favourite chapter in the book. It had been a massive hit; one she could not quite understand. If she was being honest, the book was more like therapy for her than her actual therapy sessions had been. She cried while writing it and poured a lot of emotion into it, which she rarely did. Her writing had always been more …impersonal, presented almost as a sort of biography of fictional characters rather than real moving parts of the imaginary world they were living in.

She had never written such an odd story before, with time skips and a weird space journey concepts implanted in the middle of 1920 Ireland.

“You did great, mum.” A proud Fred wrapped his arm around her middle.

Even though the teen boy was still that, a teenager, he managed to already stand a couple centimetres taller than his own mother.

“Thank you love, did you get anything of that?” She wondered, wrapping her arm around him in the familiar way a mother does.

Arm around his shoulder, soft play of the tender fingers on the dark curls on the back of the head of her “little boy”.

“Nothing at all,” he smiled and shrugged, honesty dripping in shameless glee from his tone. “But that’s the cool part, I don’t think anyone gets it.” The younger of the twins looked at his mother up and down in her bright blue dress. “Except Dad. Was that the point?”

B!Reader looked at her son and inhaled a deep long breath, which she held for a moment. Her brows furrowed and her mouth moved like that of a fish.

“Maybe.” She conceded.

“Hey mum, would you sign my book?” Harry interrupted, bringing along Jazz and a peculiarly uninterested Max.

Harry gave his mother a wide smile and put a copy of her own book in her hands.

“For Harry, please.”

“Dork,” Max rolled his eyes.

He was the only one to admit he had not finished the book yet the previous weekend when Fred mentioned his mother was doing a reading at a local bookstore while they sat by the Taylor’s pool. And he rushed to get through it. Max was not dumb, and he managed to grasp some of the concepts in the complicated plot, although he did not let on to any of his friends.

“Loved the wormhole bits Mrs May.” Max said once Harry had his signed copy reading for Harry with Love. “That dark hole and the speed of dark and light near the end were mind-blowing. I never thought of you as a fantasy writer!”

B!Reader nodded and blushed at the compliments. Max was a lot like Roger in that he did know how to make a girl blush with what appeared to be little effort.

“I am glad you liked it,” she said, a trace of pride in her voice.

“I really wish Darragh and Conor had ended up together,” Jazz voiced from around Harry’s tall lean and awkward teen figure. “They were obviously meant for each other.”

Fred had been in tears when he read the ending of the book. Of course, he would have hoped for his mother’s first queer paring to end together but what that did was echoing life.

“You have to be the eighth person who’s said that to me today.”

R!Reader, Roger and Brian were in a conversation of their own next to the long table B!Reader was about to sit before to meet some fans and sign as many copies of her book as time allowed.

She eyed the silver hair on her husband’s hair, she had been discreet when describing Darragh in her book. A tall, talented, middle-aged, idealist Irish man. A man born in a difficult time. A man who fell in love by mistake, with Conor. A young man described often as immature, who enjoyed a quiet life on board of a spaceship when he got caught up in a black hole and wound up going back hundreds of years and miles into the past. Conor had almost been killed in his attempts of helping his beloved Darragh in fighting what he considered to be hiswar. The battles gave their relationship meaning, although it was never spoken about between them. The adoration was always palpable and present to the last page. Down to the moment when Conor acknowledges that his lover cannot come with him once he finds the way back into his ship, and then it turns into a matter of will. Darragh is revealed to have a similar story, only that… he was left stranded in 1905 with no way back to his ship. “The voice of Venus” was really a metaphor for B!Reader. A complicated one, as her feelings were when she had to love the man who broke her heart. She felt lost the way Conor felt, but she could tell Brian had been lost for a while before the entire ordeal – defeated in the same manner as Darragh. And it was fitting, he was older, he was educated. He should have known better than to play in the physics lab with those dangerous materials. Brian should have known better than to play with that old woman. Conor could have turned his back on Darragh, he knew he was of no help now that he was so invested in the past – now their present. He knew Darragh and himself would never be able to be together if he stayed and they would most likely get killed if they marched on. So B!Reader made them split. She was about to leave Brian when she started writing her book, so it made sense. And when she realised, she did not want to end her marriage, she still wrote it that way because this was the ending she had seen coming for herself before – one she fortunately managed to evade, which still was the ending for many couples.

B!Reader watched the teens as they began discussing the book, Max and Jazz were defending the plot, Fred joined in and the three of them seemed to be getting passionate about proving Harry wrong. The eldest of the group was stubborn about his stance on Conor being right to leave Darragh.

His mother could not help but remember that same stubbornness from the first few weeks after the story broke. Harry had been the one to take it the hardest. When they packed for Scotland, she had to stop him from shattering his project guitar, the yellow guitar he and Brian had been working on for a while. “I don’t want it! I do not want anything from him! He is a liar!” He had yelled, with the side of his face still reddened from a slap he received from Brian. She still could not believe she managed to stay impartial at that moment after the mess that had happened in the kitchen when Harry insulted his father – earning a slap from him.

“It’s alright,” B!Reader placed her arm around the twins’ shoulders. “Conor had to go back anyway. He had a family in the spaceship.”

“What?” Jazz was the first one to open her mouth.

With a laugh, the young writer looked at the confused faces around her. “He could never stay…” She shrugged.

Harry’s expression flashed with a difficult emotion, which both Jazz and his mother noticed.

The short girl flipped her long blonde hair and checked the time on her phone, “no wonder I’m hungry! Who’s coming?” Her blue eyes searched around in an almost innocent manner.

“You got to be joking, we JUST ate.”

Max stepped back from his sister and Fred followed, “sorry, I told dad I’d get lunch with him.”

Blue eyes flipped onto Harry’s figure. B!Reader gave him a squeeze and let go, the sigh he let out being enough of an answer for Jazz to show a large smile, reaching out to grab his hand and pull her to her side. It almost seemed a pass of the baton.

The boy walked taller than Jazz and still, it looked like he was the smaller child. She was sure they had been doing a good job as parents, although that slipdid a number on Harry. The curly haired boy pulled the glass door open and let Jazz go first, only to have her childishly cling on to his arm once they were outside, a smile breaking his serious expression when his young friend told him something – they were too far for B!Reader to make out what Jazz said.

“Where are those two going?” Brian walked up to her.

He had a cardboard cup of coffee in his hand, which he offered to her. With a mumble she took it and had a testing sip – it was too bitter, but it would do. “Nando’s. Probably.” She gave her husband a soft smile.

Brian nodded in silence, a reflective look on his face.

“He needs some time, Bri.” She guessed what he was thinking about.

“It’s been a year,” he said with caution.

“He is getting over it, love.” She took a step closer to Brian and whispered, “he’s picked up the guitar again.” They shared a look before someone called for B!Reader and she left her husband with a peck on the cheek.

[relenafanel]

Local, Mediocre Talent: A Meet-Ugly AU

Geralt/Jaskier

Find it on Ao3:  Local, Mediocre Talent by relenafanel

For the Modern AU Challenge. Week 1: Meet-Ugly

Tag: witcherauseptember

_______________________________

“They’re setting up for the live band,” Geralt observed, finishing his pint of ale in one long swallow and gesturing to Eskel to hurry up. “Let’s go.”

“They’re supposed to be decent,” Eskel answered, his body language saying he was hunkering down and had no intention of going anywhere. He took a casual drink from his own glass, still half full as a pointed gesture.

Geralt snorted, not believing that for a second. Eskel was fucking with him. “I don’t need the assault on my senses. The—“ he gestured around the pub “—is bad enough. Add some local, mediocre talent covering the best of the 90s and it becomes unbearable.”

“EXCUSE ME!” 

Geralt barely had time to react before some brightly dressed and way too loud (visually and auditory) guy got in his face. The guy was lucky that Geralt wasn’t the type of person to greet people getting into his personal space aggressively with his fists. He made a sound in warning anyway.

“Have you even heard us?” the stranger demanded, half-draped across the table so he could stare directly into Geralt’s face, his pointer finger an inch from Geralt’s nose. 

Geralt knew he should be taking it as a threat, but it was a laughable one. He considered chomping his teeth just for the amusement of it.  “No.”

“Then maybe you should leave so someone else can have your table! I don’t need to be universally liked, but this is just insulting! You’re just. Sitting there. Complaining about a band you’ve never even heard of, right in front of the lead singer by the way, like some kind of hot but rude jackass.”

“I’m trying to leave,” Geralt answered, shooting Eskel a significant look. Eskel, the ass, just looked like he was seconds away from bursting into laughter.

“Try harder,” the guy suggested, straightening and digging into the shoulder bag he was carrying. He drew out a CD in a cardboard sleeve and a gold sharpie, scribbling something on the cardboard and flicking it in front of Geralt. “Gratuit for you, darling. Maybe you’ll learn some taste.”

The man could do scathing sarcasm. Geralt would give him that.

Geralt stood, picking up the CD automatically, maybe out of some long-remembered politeness of taking something handed to him. It was also the reason he kept finding fliers in the front seat of his car. “If this is your idea of taste,” he said to the guy, gesturing to his vibrant sequin shirt, “then I’m better off without any.”

He walked out, enjoying the affronted gasp behind him way more than he should.

***

Of course, the joke was on him two weeks later when halfway through his drive through the Mahakam mountains, his truck radio gave out. Geralt, typically not the biggest fan of music, had been using it to mask the death rattle coming from Roach’s undercarriage.

He didn’t have the money to fix her until he finished this contract, and as someone who took care of his belongings it was an aggravating reminder of his failures.

With a sigh, he half-remembered where he’d thrown the CD from the night with the annoying musician, and one-handedly dug it out from the garbage. He shoved it into the CD player with little fanfare.

***

By his trip back, Geralt had listened to the CD a total of three times and had to admit it was okay.

***

(Which, from Geralt, regarding music, was pretty much the equivalent of praise.)

***

Geralt turned the key to start the ignition, tensed as always that this might be the time Roach didn’t start. Once again, she came through for him and the music came on automatically.

“What’s this?” Eskel asked pointedly, his tone and expression telling Geralt that he knew exactly what it was.  

“Don’t.”

“Oh, I will,” Eskel retorted, but then didn’t follow it up with any ribbing, which was frankly more disturbing than if he had. It told Geralt he was planning.

Fuck.

***

Geralt had listened to the CD countless times over the course of the month it took to save up enough to fix Roach. Without the rattling, he no longer needed the music to distract his ears, and he popped the CD out of his dashboard like a man freed. 

It was the first time he actually looked at the cardboard sleeve. It was just a stylized silhouette of a musician with the band’s name, website, and social media.

To my #1 fan

Jaskier

Fuck, he could hear the tone it was meant in. That scathing sarcasm that landed like paint thinner. Despite the tone, or maybe because of, he could feel the burst of pleasure in his chest. 

He was halfway through scrolling through the band’s Instagram before realizing what he was doing, seeking out pictures of Jaskier. He realized, suddenly, that he’d been listening to the man’s voice for over a month.

Geralt closed his eyes.

Fuck.

He closed the app.

***

(He may have accidentally followed the band’s page.

Then he may have accidentally found Jaskier’s page and followed that too. The man had 3,000 followers, he wouldn’t notice another one.

He may have also accidentally liked a picture, but no more than two.

Fuck, three.

But Geralt was old and social media confused him. Wasn’t his fault.)

***

“This is a lovely jacket,” Jaskier said, somewhere behind Geralt. “I love a man who feels confident wearing leather.” 

A pause.

“Oh, you’ve mistaken me, I’m flirting with your jacket. Leather looks a bit like I’m playing dress-up in daddy’s clothes when I wear it. I get leather-envy.”

Geralt closed his eyes for a moment, trying to work through too many things going through his brain. First and foremost was the realization of how easily he’d known that voice, despite only hearing Jaskier speak that once (and also every time he’d introduced the bonus “work in progress” track on the CD). Second was what Jaskier was saying.

Geralt had a leather jacket. Geralt also wanted to hit his head against the table for thinking that in the context of listening to Jaskier flirt.

Third, he realized that this had been what Eskel had been planning: secretly orchestrating Geralt meeting Jaskier again.

Fuck. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t even wearing his nice shirt.

He wasn’t even wearing his nice shirt?! The idea he cared if he was wearing his nice shirt or not was the last, and worst, of all the realizations.

Jaskier walked by their table and then paused, backtracked, and looked at Geralt. “I know you.”

Geralt nodded, not far enough into his crisis to actually talk with Jaskier.

“Oh” Jaskier said, and his shoulders slumped. “Right. The gorgeous man who hates local music. I wasted a CD on you.”

“Not wasted,” Eskel said, while Geralt was trying to formulate a way to say ‘I think I was wrong, and maybe am into you’ in a normal way. Jaskier thought he was gorgeous and Geralt had a crush and a lasting bad impression.  “He listened to it. Didn’t you, Geralt?”

“Did you?”

“It was good,” Geralt tried. He didn’t miss that Eskel had managed to drop his name, casually, which made him forgive almost the entire plot of dragging him here in the first place.

Jaskier’s face lit up, which was -- fuck. “Did you?” he preened, leaning close to Geralt just like he had the first time. “Was it?”

“I… liked it.”

“Praise!” Jaskier crowed, slipping into the booth next to Geralt so his knee was pressed firmly against Geralt’s thigh. “My bread and butter. Do it again.”

His hand landed on Geralt’s knee in a way that was less to steady himself and more as a flirtation. It was something Geralt should and would discourage, right after he finished leaning into it.

“I listened to it in my truck. Every day for a month.”

And that. Wasn’t great, was it? If the way Eskel took a drink from his pint to hide his amusement was any indication, it wasn’t great.

Jaskier blinked. Then his expression shifted from teasing to thoughtful. “Do you normally listen to music in your truck?”

“The radio, sometimes.”

Jaskier tilted his head to the side.  “Then that is praise. Thank you.”

Geralt nodded, dropping his hand so the tip of his finger brushed against Jaskier’s. He’d always been better with physical flirting, anyway. When he tried flirting, his banter tended to have barbs.

Jaskier looked down at his hand.  “Huh.”

***

“Hi I’m Jaskier. We’re going to try something new tonight: being a 90s cover band! First up, a cover of the 90s hit Baby’s Got Back, because there’s a man in the audience whose attention I’m trying to get, and I never know what’s too far. And Baby, he’s got Back. Second, we’ll go for the Spice Girls Wannabe My Lover, because I totally Googled 90s music before getting up here and both of them were in the first results and I’m trying to make a point. What? It’s called Wannabe? Fine. Corrected.” 

“Sorry,” Eskel said beside Geralt, looking pained at the spectacle Jaskier was making. 

That was the thing. Geralt should hate the attention, but. 

But.

Eskel looked over at him and his frown grew deeper.  “Are you smiling?”

“No,” he lied, because even if his mouth wasn’t stretched into a grin, Eskel knew him well enough and for long enough to recognize that Geralt didn’t hate what was happening. He wasn’t not smiling.

On stage, Jaskier reached over to grab a phone offered to him by the bass player.  “Oh! Oh! Essi just reminded me of Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover, like the good bro she is. Yes. That. A better suggestion than Spice Girls. I mean, I don’t really care if you want to get with my friends. Essi isn’t even into men.”

The drummer smashed the cymbals, making Jaskier jump.

“That’s my cue that I’ve taken the gag too far. We’re not actually doing 90s night, but thanks for not immediately booing us off stage!  And Geralt, maybe if you could slide into my DMs on Insta?”

“Joke’s on him for thinking you have Instagram,” Eskel observed. He was already done his drink and looked like he was ready to leave after sitting as the third party to some truly awkward flirting. 

Geralt didn’t say anything.

“You have Instagram?” Eskel realized.  “Let me guess, next you’re going to tell me you know what sliding into someone’s DMs means.”

Geralt shrugged.

Eskel squinted at him.  “You didn’t get a smartphone until 2015. You think Tinder is for pyromaniacs.”

Geralt shrugged again.

“Wooooo,” Jaskier said on stage, holding up both his phone and the chorus of the song he was singing.  “We have contact! Geralt says:  Hi. Thank you everyone in this room for putting up with my nonsense! You have great energy. Hold on, I’m just going to...” he said, typing into his phone. “Tell me what to say!”

The audience seemed to be used to Jaskier engaging with them, because a few yelled out suggestions, including one outright filthy potential sext that Jaskier gave a ‘are you really?’ glance to.  “Oh! I know.”

Jaskier: You really do have a great butt. I noticed when you left.

Geralt: You sure you’re not flirting with my leather jacket?

Geralt watched as Jaskier read the message and then floundered a little in surprise.

Geralt: I’ll wear it if you want.

Geralt: Maybe tomorrow night?

“YES!” Jaskier replied out loud.  “Yes! I have a date for tomorrow night. Now, we should maybe re-start this song?”

“Stop looking so smug,” Eskel grumbled, stealing Geralt’s beer and downing it. 

[mallickshah]

A GATHERING

YEAR 2021 ; MAY 1ST

There was a gathering in a part of the club's faction that not many had ever been to. Behind the tavern that held the name of Yureif, Mallick’s brother, a name that not many knew of either. Mallick’s name had started to make its rounds through the faction though and not just on clubs' lands, but in the entirety of Kadeu. The main reason behind it, at first, had been his new gain of the title of Ace, of course. The manner in which it was obtained, who he had been associated with when it was obtained; the name of The Resistance muddled with the name of the Ace of clubs did not seem to please many, clubs included.

Despite all of that, the new Ace had kept quiet about his whereabouts for two entire weeks. The rumor mill might have enjoyed this absence, this lack of leadership, if it wasn’t for the small things that were also being done while he all but let himself be a simple whisper, or a harsh critic from the mouth of those who wanted this new impostor to reveal his cards. Mallick had learned many things from the man he’d been and the one he now was though, the most important rule he’d himself instilled in his own operations was to move in the shadows.

To many, this title would just be a power trip, something to hold onto while they barked orders and let the rest of the world see how much control they could exerce because of their rank. To many, this title would just be another way to subjugate an already overtaken faction. So Mallick had needed to think about the course of action to take before taking a different path. Because he would certainly not fall into the trap that had led him to fight the last Ace of clubs.

Things needed to be different; many conversations and consulting with his family afterwards had proven this fact correct. It didn’t matter how it was formulated, Mallick had a sense that even his parents had at one time dreamed of an opportunity as such. However, no matter how dire, how urgent it seemed to reveal what he had in his mind, what he knew would be better suited for clubs, without breaking the order of things in which they operated. Or rather, the disorder they thrived in. In order for him to do so, he had to mull, he had to think, to meditate on the matter, to play behind the curtains.

He’d let the rumor mill play its advocate, both for and against him, while Mallick simply let himself use connections he’d never known would find themselves useful for such a thing to tie himself further into this fate. It all brought it down to a statement plastered in clubs' streets, and only in clubs' streets. For one, they were not allowed in other factions, but even if they had been, Mallick would have still excluded all that were not part of this faction.

One sole goal ended up prevailing from the stapling of loose ends and the unifying of alliances needed to be of the same sound mind to better the lives of the people of his faction; their faction. Mallick was not alone in this, he had many other heads he could count, aside from the makeshift council that The Barbarians saw themselves create after the havoc they wrecked on the faction.

They had not been the easiest to reach, or to talk with, or to negotiate with, but Mallick had learned something about himself he’d always feared could rear itself back up. Something that had stayed dormant, and only manifested itself whenever Saiyah could not see him act upon them. Mallick had once been a very domineering young boy, and young man, but by the time he was all but embracing that step in his life, the woman he would never cease to love and adore waltzed in his life and shook the very core of that foundation.

During these two weeks, Mallick had admitted to himself that Saiyah was no longer and would never be again, so it was time for him to reconcile with the man he had been. The one who had been the cause of her death, for the foes that he’d gained along the way not forgetting his old ways. This man could now come at the forefront, and the ire he would instigate would be more than justified. It had once been unfair to try to coerce him out, but it was now the perfect fit for these gloves.

Or for this stand, among the clamoring of the crowd.

The sun was too high for it to be the beginning of May, but maybe this spoke to the urgency of the current situation. Mallick was aware of many things. One, the only reason why so many people were here was because of the allies he’d decided to take with him, his name only would not have been able to draw such a crowd. Two, the crowd was growing restless with the heat, their gaze too focused and their bodies would soon find themselves needing some type of action to relieve themselves of the heat they were enduring. Three, that release when it came to clubs would simply end up in a brawl rather than a quiet disapproving grumblings.

He knew these people, he was one of them. So it made him feel less and less apprehensive as he took his time to exit his brother’s tavern and walk up to the wooden stand. Yureif had taken some pride in his tavern being the place of the gathering, and Devjay had appointed himself as the man one would have to cross first before they could get to him. They were still debating on whether they should label him a right-hand, or a brother in arms. For now, he was simply all but Mallick’s shadow.

Mallick had only ever been a lover of the light, or rather, ever since a certain one slipped in uninvited and brought in even more than he’d ever thought could possibly be found. But he’d picked the black panther as his emblem for a good reason, Mallick had always been a man of the shadows.

It was commanding to see how the moment he stepped into view, the clamoring quieted, and when he rose behind the stand, the crowd took a stance. Mallick had made himself ready for what he knew of these people, his people. If a fight had to break while he was talking, or even before, he’d simply let it unfold and do this at another time.

However, a single line on the posters had advised them to not start a brawl if they wanted to be given anything they wished from the tavern, free of charge. Mallick had shamelessly bribed his way into making sure they behaved, or tried to at the very least. His brother might suffer a few losses for a bit, but it’d quickly come back compensated if this took flight the way Mallick hoped it would.

The heat of the day was now sitting atop his head, his shaved beard was no longer leaving him with a vulnerable feeling. He was long past that sensibility to the sight he was used to showing to his reflection.

Mallick started speaking and hoped to the gods that this would not derail in another civil war.

THE SPEECH (THE ACTIONS & REACTIONS)

I come to you with something we’ve never thought we could have, something none of us probably ever think of now, because we are not used to it being offered; peace. I do not mean peace by giving to others what we have and wishing that they treat us right, or giving up who we are and what we believe in to be the way they wish us to be. I mean peace in being ourselves, peace in giving to the people of this faction something better than the bloodshed they’ve been enduring, generation after generation. We are crumbling! But look at you, you are warriors, fighters, better than soldiers, some of you are the most fearless merchants! We have the power and we have the skills it takes to make us better together. That is where I want you to start, when you think about what can be done for the future.

(The crowd was still attentive, but some were slowly leaving their position, dispersing as Mallick stepped off the stand to walk among them; and as his voice grew louder, some did halt and turn around. Perhaps begrudgingly, perhaps simply to enjoy the spectacle, or who knows, get a pass in to take down this new Ace.)

I come in peace, because I realize I might not be the image of what you would think to be a strong representation of us, but I am not a weak man and no men in clubs are weak. None! WE are what WARRIORS were meant to be and WARRIORS do not fight dishonorably, nor do they kill for the thrill, we kill to feed our families, we FIGHT to show our strength. We can still do that and do it to have BETTER for all of US. Don’t you see it? The other factions do not care about us, they will jibe, they will insult, they will mock us and we let them do it by continuing to act like WE are NOTHING else but the WEAPONS WE CARRY.

(The crowd has not entirely dispersed, some newcomers have found themselves walking forward because of a sudden clamor of a lone man now carrying the hammer of another, Mallick is that lone man. He is all but arm wrapped around the shoulders of the weapon’s owner and somewhere, someone finally does something that shows less disinterest; a scream is heard.)

But first--I wish to say that it almost brought me to a path none wishes to carry. To work in the shadows of a rebellion that might have tainted my reputation for your eyes. But I did it for the union of this faction. Because I was a lost man, and for that, I will never use their name, because they should remain in the shadows, where they belong. WE do not belong in the shadow, we BELONG in a light that has long been shining on others because they casted us their clouds.

When I say WE, I mean all of us. The weak, the poor, the rich, and especially the STRONG.

(It has to come to this; Mallick walking among the crowd and the crowd walking with Mallick. They make rounds, they move with something akin to a trance. Maybe something has been sprayed in the air, maybe it is simply that the heat has finally gotten to them all. The Ace and the people, the ones that are left and the new ones, they might as well just mesh and become one.)

ARE YOU NOT TIRED OF BEING AT THE BOTTOM WHEN YOU ARE THE MIGHTIEST?

(Now the chaos is present; but it is not a chaos of weapons brandished against each other, it is of weapons held up and clinking, the way one would cheer with pints; not the delicate touch of a wine glass. Mallick was yanked somewhere in between; his brother all but wearing a disapproving scowl when all it did was make him laugh heartily. There’s this glee in his eyes that has Devjay letting him go then, there’s something more potent than anything else Mallick has ever felt in his life. It feels alive and like it will consume him, but if it comes to that, then he’ll let it be. The crowd quiets when the silence stretches for longer, without Mallick’s voice, without his words and suddenly as he’s back behind the stand, they all look confusedly for a second. Weapons are held, the tension seems to return. Mallick clears his throat and holds them with a steady gaze. He’s all but one man against a crowd, but there’s an undeniable power and confidence in him that tells them if he has to, he will fight every single one of them if they dared to challenge him. Mallick waits. The silence stretches. Then a grin pulls the corners of his lips.)

Well if you are TIRED, then rest assured that I’ll make sure to remind them they shouldn’t have underestimated you.

(The end might feel anticlimactic for many, but it is also the beginning of one promise being complied with. One promise that put them all right where they are needed, in the Panther’s den. As they gather in the tavern once it is made clear that they can by the owner of the tavern, Mallick follows suit; ready to put on his best suit; and gather all the information he can from the ones who he noticed stayed from the beginning to the end. It is not all the members of the faction that need convincing; it is the ones who could turn out to believe in him and in what he wants to do more than they would in anything else; those are the ones that he needs on his side. Mallick is aware of this and he will not lose this opportunity to build the threat that will lead him where he needs to get. Like his emblem of choice, The Black Panther prowls; stays quiet; strikes when it is ripe to do so.)