#i truly think it is an absolute miracle that he managed to have a satisfying narrative arc after all that bastard bs.

[reaperkaneki]

thinking about cold steel again and how rufus is the fucking ocelot of these games. hes playing both sides and also his own side and also the other side and crossing the line of assholery and STILL not coming out on top. bc he has no friends. cringefail.

[lokiskitten]

Loki Laufeyson | a little miracle

Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

plot : After getting banned from Asgard, Loki found shelter in your home. You two easily grew closer as time passed, engaging in a long term relationship without you ever being able to carry his child due to the none-matching genetics. During Christmas Eve, you and the demigod stumble upon an abandoned baby on the steps of your porch.

warnings : mention of nudity and child abandon.

The 24th of December marked a rather cold and ruthless evening. The sun had set low hours ago, which allowed you and your long term love interest to spend a delightful night whilst having dinner nowhere far from the soothing sound and warmth which erupted from the working chimney. Even if he often criticized midgardian food, Loki had made an effort to worship your roasted chicken which in fact resembled what he used to eat every day whenever he still was allowed on the lands of Asgard. The man would often tell you about the nice adventures he had had the pleasure to experience, whilst also verbally exploring the many beauties that carried his homeland.

Of course, you never seemed to get tired of hearing his stories. His arrival in your life had offered you well needed company, especially as you lived far from the city; in a little country house within a low populated village. Besides, he was also the most interesting and intelligent man you ever got to meet. No matter how many bad actions you knew he had committed, your heart still managed to hold a special place for Loki within your chest. Often, you would reassure his anxiety by claiming that everyone deserves another chance. Long story short : you felt overly grateful that he was now here to keep you safe and sound.

After dinner, the two of you had moved to the couch before the chimney, easily getting rid of your clothes and engaging in a never ending cuddle- the type of snuggles that you liked the best : skin to skin. Feeling his warmth against yours made the fire from the chimney appear irrelevant, and the sweet caresses he offered your sensitive body felt better than any silk sheets anyone could ever dream to possess. These kind of moments were never about sex, but always about sharing a special and dedicated contact with the man you had fallen in love with. Surely the two of you often allowed yourselves to spend some sexually pleasurable time together, but those kind of cuddles overcame any of these private intercourses.

His lips collided against yours in a smooth manner, both of your respective eyelids remaining closed as his naked body rested between your legs. You never grew tired of those motions, your organism constantly begging for more and reacting to any touch coming from your partner. His hips rocked against yours just so slightly, the dry humping being part of the overall loving mannerisms. And right now, it was enough to satisfy you. However, an unwelcome detail managed to flash itself back into your mind, pulling you out of the romantic moment you were attempting to spend with Loki. Opening your eyes, you allowed your palms to rest against his shoulders in order to stop him through his motions.

“I forgot to turn off the candle on the porch..” you murmured, earning a tired groan coming from the large man. “I won’t be long.” You affirmed after you had laid a loving kiss on his cheek, watching as the demigod sat up in order to allow you to shift off the couch. Your hand reached out for your sweater and panties, putting both of those pieces of clothing back on before lazily making your way until the front door. Scratching the back of your neck, you finally pushed open the door of your house before taking a step forward in order to be able to put your hand on the candle. However, your foot stumbled upon a foreign mass, easily leading you to step back out of surprise as unhappy cries began to escape the layers of dirty drapes.

Your hand landed against your chest, orbs starring down at the scary sight that you wish wasn’t what you thought it was. However, it undeniably was and remained an abandoned baby resting on your porch. Your first reflex was to seek for any silhouette lurking within the darkness of the snowy night, eyes squinting as you attempted to distinguish the potential parents of this child. “Hello?!” Fear echoed in your voice, though you soon gave up on trying to figure out who had left this child here as you couldn’t tell for how long this poor baby had been laying on your doorstep- which allowed you to jump to the conclusion that those gruesome individuals were probably gone and far by now.

You looked back down at the newborn who now only allowed a few tired whimpers to escape their lips, body crouching down so that your hands would be able to remove the layer of sheet which covered their face. Upon being revealed to the light, a new whine echoed throughout your ears, your empathetic self feeling sorrow invade your organism. You picked up the baby with a lot of care, face still diverted towards their grimacing one right before Loki finally made an apparition behind your silhouette. “What’s taking your so long-“ he began to ask, the smile on his face fading away as soon as you turned around and revealed the child to his bare eyes.

“Where did you find this?” He asked on a tensed tone, visibly not appearing too happy about seeing you carry a foreign toddler. “I found it on our porch. Someone must’ve left him there...” you admitted on a sorrowful tone, looking down at the little piece of sunshine who clearly didn’t deserve to be in the situation they were in. Your empathetic self couldn’t even believe that people still did those kind of things nowadays. It disgusted you to even think of it. “Put it back.” Loki demanded, earning a confused yet absolutely irritated stare coming from you. “Are you mental? I told you I found it right here. Who am I supposed to return this child to?” You answered sadly, feeling more than shocked by your partner’s inappropriate and rude behavior.

Loki looked down at the baby’s face, earning a few gasps from the newborn who kept their eyes closed. No form of care nor empathy seemed to show on the grown man’s face- which once again was a detail that left you speechless. “We can’t leave it there. Poor thing would freeze to death.” You affirmed whilst gently rocking the baby in order to make sure it would stay calm and sleepy. Loki remained silent for a couple of seconds, his mind probably trying to find a good response to your previous statement. “What if.. what if we kept it?” You suddenly offered, looking up at your lover who simply scoffed as a response. “Keep it? This isn’t a fairytail. You can’t just keep a child like this.” Loki answered harshly. Currently, if both of your arms haven’t been required to carry the toddler, the demigod would’ve probably earned a slap across his face.

“You’ll bring him to the authorities tomorrow. Now let’s get inside.” Loki ordered, turning back around as he began to take a few steps forward in order to join the warmth of the house. However, you stopped in front of the doorstep. “Why are you acting like this? This isn’t like you.” You accused sadly, your arms still patiently rocking the child. The truth was, this situation simply reminded Loki of his own past- how Odin had found him abandoned on a rock on Jotunheim. He had suffered due to his new environment mixing up with who he truly was, and didn’t wish to put anyone through the same bother he once had to go through. “Everyone deserves a chance.” You suddenly affirmed, causing the demigod to stop through his track. This statement struck him right through his heart.

Your eyes anxiously stared at his back, waiting for an answer coming from your partner who had decided to behave so harshly. Loki finally ended up turning around, green eyes making contact with yours as he slowly began to make his way back to you. Face to his silence, your anxious self couldn’t help but add a few decisive words. “It’s the child we’ve always wanted. It’s a.. miracle.” You affirmed sadly, feeling tears fill up your orbs at the thought of finally being able to look after a child of your own. Of course, Loki knew how much this topic meant to you, and that even if he had never planned to have children of his own before stumbling upon you and your desires. But in that child, he couldn’t help but see himself.

Patiently, the demigod accepted to take a new look down at the baby who now had their eyes open, a gentle whimper escaping their lips upon making eye contact with the adult male. Loki took the initiative to take the toddler out of your arms, carrying it in his own limbs without ever speaking a word as he made his way towards the chimney. The demigod had began to gently rock the toddler, looking down at them and allowing the baby to toy with his long strands of black locks whilst he patiently sang to them in that beautiful Asgardian language of his. He kept a low tone, making sure not to scare the baby without ever breaking the eye contact he had engaged with the toddler.

Leaning against the entrance of the living room, you finally allowed yourself to smile out of relief face to this soothing sight. This was everything you’ve ever wanted : seeing Loki carry a child, and that even if it wasn’t necessarily yours. No matter where this baby came from, this house would now become his home.

AHHH thank you so much for 1000 followers!!!!! I couldn’t feel more grateful. For the occasion, I had to write something for you guys. It’s different from what y’all probably have the habit to read, but I hope it was enjoyable to read still! Love you and take care!!! Special tag for @seasexnsun who turned out to be my 1000th follower!

[inglourious-imagines]

The Brightest Smile (Fred Weasley)

Summary: You never laugh that much at Fred's jokes and it certainly effects the prankster.

Disclaimer: The pick-up lines used in this story are created by @simps4snape on tik tok so credit goes to them!

HP Taglist: @alienoresimagines @95swifi @lunalovecroft

Requests are open ♡

.

.

.

"Always pity the thinkers, for they are cursed with their own imagination." - Atticus

Y/N Y/L/N infuriated but attracted Fred Weasley beyond words that he was slowly losing his mind - it seemed like she was everywhere. He always found her in the company of his younger brother laughing their asses off, both of them annoying the hell out of professors while Fred stared at them from afar with an upset expression on his face. What did Ron have that he didn't? Y/N's face was like a sunshine with the brightest grin when she was talking with the young red-head but every single time Fred tried to make her laugh or make a joke, it seemed to him that Y/N just smiled politely in order not to offend him. She never really laughed with Fred Weasley like she did with Ron Weasley and it was driving the twin insane. 

"Having fun, Y/N?" Fred winked at her sitting right beside her, his left arm wrapped around her shoulders. 

"Now that you're here I might reconsider my answer." she teased him. The young witch was perfectly aware of the red-head's mission to make her laugh and she wasn't going to give it to him that easily. 

"That hurt." Fred faked a cry but a mischievous smirk was set on his face while his hands were pressed on his chest holding an imaginary wound. 

Ron grinned next to her as he high-fived his best friend. "Now you're teaming up with my bloody brother? That ain't fair." Fred complained cheekily. In fact, it was like a stab in the chest and when Y/N giggled with Ronald, it felt like the knife was pushed even deeper. Fred had no idea where this sudden jealousy truly came from and watching her lips forming into the brightest smile he'd ever seen that he wasn't the reason behind, only added salt into the open wound.

It was at that moment when his eyes sparkled that Fred decided he's gonna make Y/N laugh, he's gonna get to her heart because he very much realized the girl's more than worth it.

•••

"Stop laughing or someone's gonna find out!" Y/N shushed Fred probably for the hundreth time causing him to let out even more giggles. 

"You're the worst," she rolled her eyes, "now all of you get in here." 

The heavy door closed behind them leaving the four students in an absolute darkness. 

"Lumos!" Y/N whispered as her wand provided them enough light to search around the restricted section of the Hogwarts library. They slowly began to walk from shelf to shelf looking for a particular book with a particular piece of information when Fred broke the silence again, "Did you just say lumos? 'Cause I'm turned on."

"Fred! What the fuck!" Ron managed to whisper real loudly first while Y/N just started at the tall red-head in disbelief and George kept on smirking like an idiot. 

Fred on the other hand felt more than satisfied with himself and his statement because her bright red cheeks were telling him that he must had done something right. Yes, it was the worst pick-up line he'd ever heard someone say but he was certain it did the job. Fred left Y/N speechless winking at her walking over to another bookshelf.

"Let's just keep searching. No more flirting with my best friend, alright?" Ron commanded, his eyes narrowed as he glared at his brother.

"Yes, sir!" Fred grinned mischievously, "although just so you know, Y/L/N, I may not be wearing an invisibility cloak but do you think I could visit your restricted section tonight?" 

At this second attempt a book fell out of her hands landing with a loud bang on the ground. All of them froze - Fred still had a devilish smirk set on his face, George was slowly laughing in the background mumbling "you're on fire tonight, brother", Ron just rolled his eyes once again and Y/N was a mess of trembling hands and a pounding heart.

No one had ever flirted with her in this way, sounding so confident about it and even though they were terrible pick-up lines, Y/N found herself enjoying Fred's attention. 

"Why don't we just use accio to find the bloody book and get out of here so we don't have to listen to this crap?" Ron suggested after 3 long minutes of complete silence when they expected Mr. Filch to appear out of nowhere. But surprisingly no one came.

"Good idea, Ron." Y/N piped up, not daring to look at Fred and his mischievous grin. Her pouding heart was enough to handle.

"Don't want to brag," the tall red-head started slowly again, "but I don't need to cast accio to make you co-"

"Don't you dare finish that bloody sentence, Fred, don't you dare!" Ron finally burst out, his cheeks red and fists clenched. This whole situation was making him uneasy - his brother and his best friend? It simply felt weird to Ron, he didn't want to lose either of them, some of the most important people in his life.

Y/N glanced at Ron letting out a few soft giggles that were barely audible but Fred did hear them and his heart stopped a beat. It sounded like a music to his ears knowing that he just made the beautiful girl smile. Boy, did it feel good.

•••

The search for the book was finished without any other Fred's encounters or Ron's outbursts, it only seemed like a miracle that no one heard them.

"Okay, let's get out of here." Y/N waved at the boys as they quietly ran out of the library aiming for the Gryffindor house.

"Could you at least stop smiling like a marigold on manure?" Ron frowned as he saw how his best friend was grinning from ear to ear the whole journey back to their dormitories. "You two make me sick."

"We better take it somewhere else. What do you say, Freddie?" Y/N suggested winking at the prankster who's mouth was wide open. He certainly did not expect anything like this, at all, but he immediately caught on.

"You're the boss here. See you guys in the morning." Fred sent one last smirk towards his brothers as he disappeared in one of the dark Hogwarts corridors hand in hand with Y/N, George showing him thumbs up.

[delirioushrimp]

Salvation is found in pain(ful pleasures) [Your Boyfriend AU]

Once more, I truly have no self control when it comes to @harbingers-appointed and his boys. Be happy Flauros, you finally get to steal the show from the King.

Hope you’ll like it Vee !

How many ? How many times did he kill you since the beginning of this twisted game ? How many times did you come back to him asking, craving, and begging for the punishment he was always so eager to bestow you ?

He cut your throat, watched you drown, let you bleed out, broke every bone in your body so many times you wonder how he hasn’t grown tired out of you yet. After all, no matter how satisfying and amusing it must be to kill a person -one yearning for death so ardently- over and over again, one has to get bored of seeing the same face dying by their hands, right ? You’re just a toy to him, an interesting one -maybe-, but a toy, nonetheless.

You’re not stupid enough to believe he genuinely likes you.

Still, you always come back to him, knowing he’s the only one able to give you what you want, what you deserve. You hate it when he does it in the front of the King though, because watching the pain and self-hatred in those gorgeous blue eyes as your life fades away to hysterical cackles, truly breaks your soul. He doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve to suffer so horribly when all he’s done is love you earnestly and wholeheartedly, and most of all he doesn’t deserve loving someone as broken and ruined like you. You curse God for doing this to him, knowing you’ll never be able to return his feelings because you’re not worthy of his love. You’re not worthy of anything but pain.

It’s not fair, it’s not fair !

Lately though, you’re starting to notice a few changes in him. His knife lingers longer than it should, leaving shallow cuts on your skin before piercing you to the bone. His eyes which were usually narrowed in sadistic glee appear distracted, deep in thought as he observes your dying body. It’s strange, you’d never thought you’d get to see him so pensive; he always appears so confident, happy go lucky and in control of everything.

At first, you think it’s because he’s finally growing annoyed of your presence and constant pestering for pain. Maybe he found another, newer and more amusing toy to distract himself with. You would understand if that was the case, it was a wonder he actually “played” with you for that long. But that means you needed to find someone or something able to give you what you sought.

The next time you wake up after another of your “play sessions”, you don’t go to him. Instead, you ignore everyone and everything as you try to come up with a new alternative to your lack of executioner. You manage to evade Samael without much trouble, knowing the castle like the back of your hand after how many times you died there. You’re terrified of gazing into his eyes, terrified to see the absolute grief and agony in them.

You roam around the halls for a while before you manage to find a good enough hiding spot, a small balcony, away from prying eyes. You sit there for who knows how long, time perception long lost ever since the start of this never-ending game. What would happen now ? With nobody else willing to waste their time on you, what are you supposed to do ? Kill yourself over and over again until God decided to take pity on you and finally send your soul to where it belongs ? You remember the bastard’s words after the eighteenth time he cut you open, looking at you with that all-knowing smile.

“His Highness is the only who can end your misery. You could always ask him but- ah” he tilts his head to watch your life spilling away into a red river. “I doubt he’ll agree to it,” he ends with a dark chuckle. “But hey, no harm in trying, right ?”

He’d wanted you to do it, only because he knew of how much pain and agony your words would induce to the King. You had doubted his words, -you always did- fully aware that if he had lied to you, you’d have made Samael suffer for nothing. And you couldn’t, wouldn’t be able to bear the thought.

So you hesitated, waited for a miracle to happen, for the sadist to admit he was fucking with you, anything so you wouldn’t have to take the risk, like the coward that you are. And of course, he noticed, relishing in your growing  paranoia and dread. God ignored your pleas once more, and you began to understand why Samael rebelled. You’ve never been a fervent believer after all.

God is not a benevolent being , merely the leading puppeteer of this world.

You gave in after seven more deaths, despair finally overtaking over fear, and went to find the King. It felt disgusting, seeing him smiling so earnestly at your mere presence when you only came to use him for your own, selfish and self-destructive wish. You felt it to your core, invading your soul, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. You wish he hadn’t knelt before you with such devotion, you wish he hadn’t kissed each of your trembling fingers so tenderly, you wish he hadn’t whispered your name so fervently. The words that left your mouth on that day felt like the vilest of poisons.

“You…would do anything for me, right ?”

“Anything !” you flinched at the desperate, borderline hysterical tone of his voice. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you !”

You wondered briefly if watching you die so many times is what caused him to say those words, clinging to your body so pitifully, or if his adoration truly ran that deep from the start. You wished to never have an answer because whatever of the two it’d be, it would only make you more guilty.

“So…” your lips were dry. You felt your sins crawling on your back. “Kill me. Kill me please.”

The  gut-wrenching look of pure horror which crossed his face told you two things; it told you your executioner had not lied to you, and it told you that no matter what you did, Samael would never be able to grant you your only wish. You knew that no matter how much you tried to hurt, destroy or even hate him- something you never believed to be possible- he could never bring himself to end your suffering. And you could not blame or despise him for that, he had waited so long for you and the only thing you gave him was pain and torment.

You deserve this, you deserve this punishment.

“Are you done moping around  ?” you hear that familiar, bone-chilling voice calls for you.

You don’t even turn around to face him but knows what awaits you if you refuse to answer his question, as rhetorical as it may seem.

“I’m not mopping around,” you flatly say. “Just here to think.”

You hear him take a step closer, but don’t flinch or try to move away while he stands right behind you, and you wonder how long it’s been since you got used to this.

“Really ?” he asks a bit more cheerfully. “So, you’re not avoiding me ?”

You frown and remain silent for longer than you should as you try to find the meaning behind his words. He doesn’t seem to mind though as if he was waiting for your half-baked excuse.

“Avoid you ?” you retort back in a slightly sarcastic tone. “What are you even saying ? I know you’ll always be able to find me.”

He hums in agreement, taking no offense of the fact you still refuse to look at him, instead you think he is pleased by your admission.

“You don’t seem very happy to see me though.” He almost sounds hurt at the idea and maybe you would have bought it if it was one of your first interactions. “Did I do something to upset you sweetheart ?” The innocence in his voice is sickening.

You never bought the cute pet names or the honeyed words of concern though. You recall how you cringed the first time he used them on you, which was strange. You had never met him, and yet somehow, you’d been able to tell this behavior was not natural to him. He was attractive -at least to your standards- , his voice was rich and smooth, and his gaze had been solely focused on you; you should have enjoyed the attention from such a charming being, or at least, feel mildly flattered. But instead, your mind and body recognized the eager executioner that he was. Maybe it was because you refused to believe someone could have a genuine interest in you, or maybe it was because you’d unconsciously compared him to the King. Whatever it was, you never fell for it, and you never will.

“No,” you answer in a detached tone of voice. “I’m just staying out of your way.”

You’re not sure if he is confused, amused or irritated by your words but it feels like you’re suffocating. You’re used to the mockeries, twisted chuckles and fake flatteries but this silence, it’s not normal.

When were things ever normal here ?

You can’t help the gasp leaving your lips when you feel a hand grabing you by the hips and a cold breath tickling your neck. You easily guess the smile against your skin, and it takes everything in your power to repress yourself from kicking him in the ribs. You’re not afraid of the pain that might follow after that, but the other types of punishments he must have in mind.

“You think I don’t want to play with you anymore ?” His voice drops by a few octaves, sending vibrations across your skin. You still manage a small nod, voice stuck in your throat. “Aw…how sad. I must have done a terrible job lately, haven’t I ?”

“It’s just-“ You don’t like how your voice waver at his freezing touch. “You seem distracted and well…bored.” You hear him whisper a small oh ? against your flesh. “I thought you got tired of killing me.”

You realize how fucked up this sounds, and a sense of relief washes over you because it means you still haven’t completely lost it. But the moment is short lived when you feel him chuckle darkly, sending goosebumps along your skins. You really, really don’t like this.

“How awfully observant of you dear.” You feel his teeth graze the juncture of your neck, but you don’t move an inch, instead wondering if he intends to cut your jugular with his sharp incises. He’s never done that before, at least from what you can remember. “But don’t worry, I’m not bored of our little game…yet.”

You believe him for once, it would be rather strange for him to come here if he didn’t want to spend time with you anymore. But his voice, the way he stands so uncomfortably close, tell you he wants to change the rules and you’re almost sure he’s happy you noticed the changes. In fact, all of this might have been part of his plan, for you to notice the little hints he dropped during your last sessions and break from the usual pattern the both of you had created since the first day.

He’s always five steps ahead of everyone after all.

You let out a frustrated sigh, knowing that no matter how this conversation will end, you won’t like what will come out of it. But it’s too late to turn back now, not when he’s literally clinging to you like some damn leech.

“What do you want ?” you curtly demand.

“Ah, don’t be like that sweetheart,” he whines to you, but you can feel his smile growing wider. “I just want you to enjoy this as much as I do.”

What the fuck is he saying now ? Maybe you should just kick him after all, then jump and, if you’re lucky enough, break your neck against the cold pavement below, if not you’ll just break every bone in your body and wait until you respawn like some videogame character. It’s nothing you haven’t experienced before, though the demon freak is more into using his knife -you think it’s always the same- than his own hands on you.

“We both know you’re not getting out if this cycle, not for a very long while at least…” he trails off, as if you had somehow forgotten why you were here in the first place, as if you weren’t living with the constant reminder that you couldn’t die. Is he trying to make you cry or something ? “And well…I know you’re not getting off of the pain, you’re not that kind of freak.”

“Just get on with it, the floor below us is starting to become more interesting than you,” you grit between your teeth as you take a step towards the edge for emphasis. He lazily takes another step as well, completely unbothered by the situation. He must know you’re not joking.

“Don’t interrupt me, that’s very rude,” he scolds you, like a parent trying to reason with their unruly child -the idea both amuses and creeps you out- but you don’t miss the cold authority behind it. The warning is clear. “Like I said, you’re not getting anything out of this and I’m starting to feel like the bad guy here.”

You take another step forward and grip the stone railing as tightly as you can as a sign for him to hurry but also to keep yourself from sending your fist in his face or his stomach. Can’t he just break your neck or bleed you dry ? Starting to feel like the bad guy ? Well, he’d fit the role if this was a classic fairytale, although as sweet and devoted Samael was to you, he would not make for a very good prince charming -or a very twisted one- while you’re all too aware of how terrible of a damsel in distress you’d be. One could almost say the purple freak is the only one playing his part right.

“Don’t you think you deserve some award for going this far ?”

Your eyes narrow. Why does he speak as if you had a choice in this ? Why does he speak as though there is anything to be celebrated expect for you to have fallen as low as only finding some sense of peace in dying brutally to the hands a psychopath ? Is this what he wants to reward you for ? Does he really think you’ll agree to it ? You refuse to believe it.

“Ah you’re right, that was a poor choice of words,” he admits in a childlike voice as if he’d heard your thoughts, but it’s not the first time he'd done that. “Rather, I think you’d enjoy our playdates much more if you indulged yourself a bit…” His voice grows huskier as the hand holding your hips moves lower and lower, somewhere he’s never been. “I promise to make it feel so good you’ll forget your own name…” he whispers sensually to your ear before his tone suddenly shifts to sadistic glee. “And then…I’ll watch that beautiful blissful expression of yours turn to absolute agony !”

His revelation turns your body to stone as you attempt to process what he just suggested. This can’t be real. All of this just because he wanted to fuck you  ? No, it was not just about sex -not when he could do so much better than you-, this was about the additional control he’d have over you. He’d already gained ownership over you once he became the only one able to give you pain, and by becoming the only one able to give you pleasure, he’d have complete control of your strings.

“I’m not interested, get off of me,” you try to sound calm, much calmer than the inner chaos that your mind is right now.

“Really ?” How could a word carry so much darkness ?

Before you can react, you feel  a hand grabbing your hair in a tight grip then violently yanking  you aside, in a soundless cry till you’re forced to look at him. You close your eyes on instinct, refusing to submit to his gaze. Tears prickle at the corner of your eyes but you ignore them, instead focusing on the sensation of his cold face against your own.

“I have to admit, it’s been a while since I found someone so pathetic and hopeless. Kinda reminds me of…” he ponders while you try keep your breathing steady. “Oh no I shouldn’t speak of him when he isn’t here,” he seems to mumble to himself. “But really, you have nothing to lose here, cutie,” he finishes in a sing-song voice.

“You’re only doing this to hurt the King,” you finally manage to breath in a cracked voice.

“And what of it ?” he says in a surprisingly flat tone, which causes you to stop struggling. “You’ve only hurt him since you arrived here.”

You don’t want to hear it, not from him.

“You ignored him, didn’t even try to spare his feelings or spend time with him because you were too engrossed in the only thing that mattered to you .”

How dare he lecture you about feelings ? Him, out of everyone you’ve met ?

“And when you asked him to kill you ? Oh, that was beautiful !” He laughs heartfully. “Trying to use his own words against him so shamelessly…I’ll remember this for a while haha !”

“Stop…” you whisper weakly.

“Stop fooling yourself Darling, you’ve never cared for him,” voice full of poison slipping into your already sick mind. “Maybe you actually like to see him so miserable.”

“ That’s not true !” you cry out. “I never wanted him to suffer because of me !”

But have you ever done  anything to prove it ?

“I never-“ you struggle to form a coherent sentence. “I didn’t-“

“Didn’t even give him a chance, went straight to me instead. How fucked up is that huh ?”

You’re trembling, trembling from the truth of his words, trembling from the coldness of his body, trembling from realizing you’re the villain of this story.

“After all,” he murmurs right into your soul, “monsters recognize each other, isn’t that how the saying goes ?”

He lets go of you, and you crumble. You barely register your body falling to the ground as you feel your nails dig into your skin. He sighs.

“Come on sweetheart, you know I’m the only one who can make you feel better. It’s only going to get better from now on. “We’re gonna have so much fun you and I =)”

 [ACCEPT HIS OFFER]           [RUN AWAY]           [JUMP OVER THE EDGE]

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

Okay, so there are three endings to this fic, I intend to do them all but I’m really interested in which one you’d like to read first. I’ll regulary check to see what people want during the next few days.

Pick your poison :)

[andinewton]

Daddy-to-be-VictorxMC - Happy Holidays

It’s been FOREVER since I wrote one of these, so thought I’d finally finish the one I had part done!  I am completely pain addled at the moment, basically stuck resting as I can’t walk, so please excuse any errors or typos.  I just wanted to get it out and done before I drug myself for the night!

So, enjoy!

Happy Holidays 

You wiggled your feet in your flat shoes, trying to ignore the way they pinched.  Your feet were swollen, at least you assumed they were, you hadn’t seen them in some weeks now.  Your gown was a beautiful silver, tailored perfectly to your enormous bump and flowing with so much material you looked positively angelic, which fit the LFG Holiday Party perfectly.  Victor himself wore a tuxedo, his bow tie, cummerbund, and pocket square the same material as your outfit.  He had promised you wouldn’t stay late, he knew how hard the eighth month of your pregnancy was being on you, exhaustion and swollen joints preventing you from what until recently had been your normal routine.  On the doctor’s advice you had been signed off from work but continued to stay in touch with Anna and make important decisions.  You never thought you would be tired of being pregnant but it was getting very close to it.

The sigh you gave was barely a more heavy exhale than normal, but Victor picked up on it, sitting beside you as he was in the limo.

‘You don’t have to do this.’  He cupped your hand in his in your lap, knowing that lacing would only hurt your swollen fingers.  ‘Just say the word and we turn around and go home.  I’ll even let you eat cookies in bed.’

You laughed softly at his attempt to let you off the hook.  ‘Thank you, Victor, but I want to go.  Anna and everyone from the office will be there and I miss them.’

‘If you insist.’  He raised your hand and kissed your knuckles.  ‘But we won’t stay late.  A quick once around the room to greet everyone, then home.’

‘We’ll play it by ear.’  You rested your head on his upper arm, settled further by his scent and warmth.

Your face was aching from smiling and it had only been an hour.  The first and foremost question you were sick of hearing already was the mock surprise of; haven’t you had that baby yet?  Victor had been eaten up by the crowd almost immediately as board members and investors alike wanted to share a drink with the youngest and most successful CEO in Loveland city.

‘You look absolutely fed up.’  Anna appeared at your side with a glass of wine in hand.  ‘’Tis the season to celebrate, Emsi.’

‘I am, really.  I’m just a little tired, that’s all.’  The smile you gave her was the first genuine one since you left the limo.  She looked beautiful with her hair in a stylish up do, the figure hugging evening gown giving you hope that there was still a waist after having a baby.  ‘You look gorgeous, by the way.’

‘So do you, positively radiant.  May I?’  She wasn’t the first person tonight to touch your bump, but she was the first to ask permission.  There were many reasons you loved her and this was one of them.

‘Sure.  They’re sleeping now though, I think.  No bubble parties here.’  You rubbed your hand lovingly over your stomach, Anna’s hand joining yours.

‘I still can’t believe that not only did you manage to land the demon CEO but that you’re having his baby.’  She shook her head.  ‘We should do an episode of you for Miracle Finder, because you are definitely a miracle worker!’

You laughed as you saw Minor and Kiki heading towards you.  ‘Honestly it feels like a miracle.’  You agreed as Minor broke through the crowd first.

‘There ain’t no party like a bump groping party!’  He sang, both hands hitting your stomach as soon as he was in range.  ‘How long now, boss?’

‘Four weeks and two days.’  You confirmed.  You had not begun counting the minutes yet but it was getting close.

‘And you still aren’t sharing what you’re having?’  Minor leant into you with a hopeful look.

‘We don’t even know.  We want it to be a surprise for both of us too.’

‘Is he kicking?’  Kiki nudged Minor aside with his hip, placing her hand on the spot Anna had just withdrawn from.

‘We don’t know it’s a he.’  You patiently reminded her.

‘I say it is, and I have good money riding on it in the office pool.’

‘You have a pool going?’  You groaned, looking to Anna for confirmation.

She shrugged.  ‘We have to keep you in our thoughts somehow.’

Across the room, Victor watched you laughing with your colleagues.  It was good to see you having fun, as you had been so bored since you gave up working full time.  You still consulted by phone or video call, but you missed the personal interactions.  He had never understood when people said a pregnant woman looked like she was glowing, but watching you chat animatedly with your team he got it, he truly did.  You were effervescent and beautiful, your hair gleamed, skin like porcelain, the curve of your body as it cradled the new life inside you…currently being manhandled by more than one of your staff.  A bitter tang burned up his throat as he watched, completely ignoring the board member he had been talking to, and he stepped away with only a brief excuse me.  He put his glass on a passing tray, untouched as he wanted his wits about him for your sake, and nodded his head in greeting as people tried to get his attention while he crossed the enormous ballroom.  He was in reach of you, heard a laugh leave your lips as your smile brightened at whatever your colleague had said.  It eased the jealous feeling in his gut and just for a moment he took the time to admire how beautiful you were.  And you were his.

‘Victor, darling!’

Closing his eyes he let out a breath through his nose at the feminine voice calling him, close enough to let him know he wouldn’t get away with ignoring it.  He turned, an impassive look on his face, planning on ending this conversation as quickly as possible.  ‘Chic.’

The starlet was wearing a figure hugging dress that plunged low, the split up one leg letting him know she had most likely had to have forgone underwear, not that she would have given the matter a second thought.  ‘I haven’t seen you in some time.  Where have you been hiding yourself?’  She hooked her arm over his as though it were the most natural thing in the world, drawing her body close to his as she stroked her other hand down his shirt front.

‘I haven’t been hiding anywhere.  You, on the other hand, have been working abroad for the last year.  I didn’t realise you were back.  Nor that you’d be here this evening.’  In truth, he was barely able to contain his disinterest and remain professional.  Polite wasn’t something he had ever been with Chic, civil perhaps, but her desire to use him for his position and body put his back up.

‘If you’d known, what would you have done?’  She gushed, leaning her breasts against his forearm.

‘Changing my number sounds like a good start.’

The sound of enticing laughter turned your head, as it did the rest of your group and others in the area.  Chic stood close to Victor, her body pinning his arm between them in a manner meant to draw his attention to her.  In that dress you could hardly miss her.

You saw Victor’s jaw clench in a gesture you realised.  He didn’t want to make a scene but he was giving her the chance to back away before he took matters into his own hands.  Victor’s mind and tongue had always been his best weapons and you had no doubt that he would leave no doubt as to his feelings.  You had no idea whether he was invested in any of Chic’s projects, but you would hate for him to damage a possible business relationship.  Especially if you could intervene and save him the job.

‘I think I have to go rescue my fiancé.’  You rolled your eyes comedically at the group before excusing yourself and heading straight to Victor’s side.

‘Here you are, Victor.’  You smiled sweetly at him, making sure to rest your hands on your bump to emphasise it more.

‘Excuse us, we were in the middle of something.’  Chic glared at you, the venom in her words almost tangible.  She began to turn her back to you, but Victor gave you a small smile, knowing you were giving him not only an excuse to escape but the opportunity to break the news to her himself.

‘You remember Emsi, right?’  Victor took a large step away from Chic, detangling himself from her grasp as he curved his arm around you and rested his hand on top of one of yours.  ‘Are you feeling tired, beautiful?  Do you want to head home?  Our baby needs its mommy to take care of herself.’

Even from the corner of your eye as Victor pressed a lingering kiss to the edge of your mouth, you could see Chic pale, her perfectly painted lips falling open.

‘Your…baby?’  Her voice echoed the disgust in her eyes as you both turned to her.  ‘Don’t tell me you stooped to…’

‘If you have something to say about my fiancee, by all means do, but your next movie depends on a substantial amount of funding from LFG and I would hate to have to withdraw that due to a differences of opinion.’

Chic’s mouth flapped for a moment as Victor drew you even closer to him, his hand taking yours deliberately to show off your engagement ring.  You knew he had deliberately steered the decision to her.  She would either throw it all away because she was acting like a spoilt child who had lost her favourite toy, or she would use her common sense to turn things around.  You were grateful when she took the latter.  ‘Con…congratulations.  When…how?’

‘We’ve been together for some time.  It’s been in the press but I guess you didn’t realise, having been so busy with your own work.’  Victor replied in such a way he implied she was self-absorbed and it took all your willpower not to laugh out loud.

‘Right.’  She nodded, obviously shaken by this revelation, and took a step back.  ‘Well, I have to…have a good evening.’  And with that she was gone, her rapid steps loud even over the string quartet.

‘That was quite satisfying.’  Victor caressed your cheek with his knuckles.  ‘But would you like to leave?  You’ve been on your feet for some time now.’

‘Actually, I’d like to stay a little longer.’  You grinned.  ‘I’m kind of enjoying showing off the fact that I landed the most eligible bachelor in Loveland City.’

Victor chuckled low in his throat, pressing his lips to your temple in a soft kiss.  ‘Dummy.’  He muttered, just loud enough for you to hear, before leading you into the crowd, not so that you could show him off, but so that he could laud over the entire party that he felt like the most blessed man in the land.

I have another chapter planned for Victor’s (belated) birthday, but I’m not sure when I’ll get through it!  Thank you for bearing with me though!

Masterlist

[purple-possibilities]

Stolen [Madara x Sakura]

AN: This was made for Day 1 of @madasakuweek0320.  It was kind of spur of the moment; all the wonderful entries inspired me to write something.  I’m not 100% satisfied with how it turned out, considering it was done pretty quickly.  Plus I think to truly achieve the concept I was trying for in this story, this would need to be much longer.  But, whatever.  Here’s my entry!

Words: 5404

Prompts: Mafia/Yakuza AU, Abducted, “Trust Me.” (that’s right, triple crown baby!)

Warnings: mention of past attempted rape, brief descriptions of violence, maybe gore?, sort of dark!sakura, sort of dark!madara, actually, sort of dark!everyone. This is a weird AU is all I’m saying.

The first thing Madara notices is the cold.  It’s a damp cold, the kind you feel all the way down to your bones.  It’s the kind of cold that makes old injuries hurt, like the ankle he broke playing soccer with his brothers, or the arm he broke sparring with his brothers, or the collarbone he shattered that time he was in a car accident with his brothers… they really were terrible for his health.

The next thing Madara notices is the odd position he’s in.  He’s sitting in a chair—normal enough—but his arms are hoisted behind his back in a way he’s not sure he could achieve by his own flexibility.  It makes the muscles burn and ache, while his hands and arms have lost all feeling.  His feet are on the floor, but his ankles are taped to the chair he sits in.  It’s unpleasant, to say the least.

Madara makes sure not to move.  He realises that he must have been abducted, to be in the… unfortunate position he awoke in, and he does not want to alert any possible enemy.  Instead he listens, trying to hear any shift or rustle of clothing, any fidgeting, anything at all.  Instead, all he hears is the soft whirring of a fan, so quiet it must be from a central air unit.

When Madara finally opens his eyes, he sees that he’s not alone.  There’s a pink-haired woman restrained in a similar fashion to him, her head lolling down to rest listlessly on her torso.  He can see the subtle movements of her chest, indicating that she’s still alive and breathing.  She’s positioned directly across from him, though several feet away.  Between them is an empty, steel table.

The room they’re being held in is small, sparse, but clean.  The walls are made from a brownish-red brick, the floor seems to be either concrete or some kind of grey laminate—it’s too dark to truly tell.  There are no windows, and it’s likely they’re in a basement.  Hanging above the table in the middle of the room is a plain light fixture with an exposed light bulb.  To Madara’s right is a steel door with no handle. Instead there is a smooth, metal oval, indicating that there is, in fact, a lock, though it is only accessible from the outside.

Madara isn’t quite sure how he landed himself in this position, nor how the pink-haired woman is related to it.  He can think of quite a few people who would want to take him—the Senju coming to mind immediately—but as to how he was abducted, he can’t recall.  He can feel no external injuries, which means his memory loss is not due to head trauma.  However, Madara is a man of many talents, and he knows there are drugs and poisons which can cause temporary and even permanent memory loss.  

He hopes it’s the former.

With not much else to do, Madara shifts.  The movement causes the chair to squeak, the tape holding him creaking as he tries to move his arms into a more comfortable position.  It’s not much noise, but in the silent room, it’s deafening.  It’s enough to cause the pink-haired woman’s head to shoot up, jadeite eyes aiming a piercing stare at him.

Despite the situation, Madara finds himself breathless.

The woman is beautiful, even with the obvious signs of wear from being abducted and trussed up the way they both are.  Her unique colouring practically lights up the dull room, a piece of spring sprouting out of a cold, bland winter.  Madara briefly imagines what he would say to her had he met her in different circumstances. Perhaps he would meet her in a club, dressed to impress, teasing eyes flickering coyly in his direction.  Maybe he’d see her at one of his charity galas, dressed to the nines, where he would cut-in and steal a dance—and perhaps after that, a kiss.  Or she’d be walking down the street, bundled in a cute coat, hair partially obscured by a soft hat, and he’d just have to strike up a conversation, perhaps offer to buy her a coffee, or simply remark on how absolutely breathtaking she looked in contrast to the pale, fluttering snow—

“Who are you?” the woman asks, shaking Madara from his inappropriately timed daydreams.  Her tone is flat, suspicious, and her voice slightly cracked, as if she hadn’t had something to drink in a while.

Madara clears his throat, trying to work up some spit so that his own dry throat might actually make some noise.

“Madara.”

The woman rolls her eyes. “Not your name.  Who are you, as in, why are you important enough to be kidnapped?”

Madara is slightly taken aback by the blunt question, and the calm, albeit irate, way it was delivered.

“I’d appreciate your name before getting into that,” he replies dryly, belying his own amusement at this spitfire of a woman.

The woman huffs impatiently before replying.

“Sakura.”

Fitting, Madara thinks.  He contemplates dragging things out, but agitating the woman—Sakura, he mentally corrects, won’t get him anywhere.

“I’m the owner and CEO of the Uchiha Research Corporation.  We develop many different medicines and­—”

“And you’re the leading company in prosthetics and the development of lab grown organs,” Sakura interrupts.

“So you’ve heard of us.” The Uchiha were famous for their breakthroughs within the medical community, though not many laypeople knew the name of the family responsible for these medical miracles.  The thought of Sakura recognizing his name is somehow thrilling.

“I’m a doctor—of course I’ve heard of you.”

A doctor?  That was interesting.

“Where?”

Sakura scrutinizes Madara for a moment, as if judging the pros and cons of sharing more information.

“Konoha General.  Surgery,” she eventually replies.

That was plain enough. She doesn’t work at a research facility, though, which begs the question:

“What would the people who want a CEO want with a surgeon?”

And more alarming, though Madara kept this question to himself: how is she so calm?

“Well, seeing as you’re the more high-profile of the two of us,” Sakura begins—Madara is very aware of how she didn’t use ‘more important’—“if anyone would know, I’d say it would be you.”

Madara silently concedes her point with a slight tilt of his head.  He hums in contemplation, considering just how much information he should be offering.

“I can think of a few,” he finally says, “though ransom is most likely.”  Ransom was not, in fact, most likely.  But she didn’t need to know that.

“Ransom?  For a CEO and a doctor?  Seems like a mishmash, if you ask me.”

Well, it seems that Sakura managed that all on her own.

“Has anyone been in to see us?” Madara asks instead of continuing that thread of conversation. His best bet at getting out of this situation is to gather as much information as possible.

“No.”

“Were you here before me?”

“Not sure.”

“How do you mean?”

“When I woke up, you were here.”

“And when was that?”

“Forty-seven minutes ago.”

Madara’s face scrunches with his confusion.

“I’ve been keeping count,” Sakura says with as much of a shrug as she can manage, a playful smile just about curling at her lips.  

Madara feels his heart skip a beat.  He briefly imagines a different, less stressful scenario where the pretty woman may have sent such a smile his way.  It really should be illegal to be that good looking.

He has to clear his throat again before he can manage to use his voice once more.

“How are you so calm?” Madara finally asks.  It’s a question he can no longer ignore, even if he believes Sakura won’t answer him.

“I could ask the same of you.”

Well, she had a fair point.

Madara sits up as straight as he can, forcing his face into his practised ‘I-am-very-important’ face. “Someone as high profile as myself has undergone behavioural training for such a scenario.”

Sakura’s expression is scrunched in confusion.  It’s surprisingly cute.  “That can’t be a part of How to be a CEO 101.”

Madara feels himself smiling and briefly reflects on the strangeness of the reaction, considering the situation he’s in.

“No, though it is a requirement in Control Over Sensitive Materials 405.”

Sakura laughs at that—a short, bright sound that tickles at his insides, causing his smile to unconsciously widen.

“It must be a lot of responsibility.”  Her voice is sweet as it teases him, and Madara is struck with the urge to impress.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Madara replies with his best smirk.

Sakura’s eye’s trail slowly down Madara’s body and then up again.  Madara can feel his blood igniting everywhere her gaze touches.  When she makes eye contact with him again, she licks her lips.  The motion sends thrill down his spine, until—

“Doesn’t look like it,” Sakura says with a wink, and the heat building in his gut automatically cools down.

“Ha. Ha.” Madara intones sarcastically, unconsciously pouting.

Sakura only grins coquettishly in response.  

Madara moves to cross his arms over his chest, but his bindings quickly remind him of the situation he’s in.  Suddenly, the burning pain in his arms and back returns with a fury, his banter with the pretty woman across from him having temporarily made him forget about it. With a grunt at the sensation, and the obvious lack of sensation in his fingers, Madara feels his mind clear slightly.

“So?” he asks in a grunt, causing Sakura to raise a brow in askance.  “Who would want to abduct you?”

Sakura scoffs.  “Well, that’s hard to say.”

Madara dips his head, eyebrows raised and mouth flat.  “Why don’t you try.”

Sakura seems to ponder his words, head tilted to the side and gaze on the ceiling.  If Madara had to name the expression, he’d have called it wistful.  But before he can think on it any more, Sakura’s lovely voice has begun her story.

“Well, the first time I was kidnapped—”

“Wait a minute!” Madara interrupts out of shock.  “First time?  How many times have you been abducted?”

Sakura hums, tilting her head to the other side.  “Well, if you don’t count that one case of mistaken identity, this makes for number six.”

“Six—don’t count—wha—SEVEN? You’ve been taken seven times?”  Madara is absolutely gobsmacked.  Who was this woman to get abducted and recovered seven times?  No wonder she’s so calm!  This must be like a day at the office for her!

“Like I said, I don’t really count that one.  They thought I was the daughter of some billionaire.  When they realised I wasn’t, they sent me off with my mother.”

Madara can only sit and stare at Sakura with his mouth hanging open.

“Anyways,” Sakura continues, casually flipping her head to the side to get her hair out of her eyes. “The first time I was fourteen. My friend’s older brother thought it would be fun to keep a pretty girl in his basement.  He wasn’t very good a tying knots.  Nor had he considered what he’d do if someone slammed a chair into his face.  An oversight he wasn’t able to make again.”

Madara can’t decide if he should be awed or worried by her story.  Either way…

“Good riddance,” Madara grunts, nose crinkled with the force of his disgust.  “Any person who has to force another is worse than scum.”

The corner of Sakura’s mouth curls upwards.

“The second time I was fifteen.  My mother, unfortunately, has a gambling problem.  Let’s just say she didn’t pay back some important people, and they took issue with that.”

Sakura smiles sardonically, as if to say ‘what can you do?’  He’s not sure how to feel about that.

“These bad people,” Sakura continues, “decided that taking a young girl and making an… example of her would be a good way of sending a message.” There is a light of mischief in Sakura’s eyes now, something that speaks to its twin, buried deep in Madara’s soul. He feels that something become exited in the way Madara has only felt right before an assured victory.

“Those men never expected such a young girl might carry a switch blade, especially after she was taken the first time.”  Sakura’s grin widens.  “They didn’t expect to see their blood flowing outside of their bodies, either. An oversight they weren’t able to make again.”

Sakura spoke with such nonchalance, as if the abduction and the subsequent maiming—if not murder—of several men was nothing.  It was chilling, and yet her strength has Madara enthralled—trembling in excitement, even.  He’s always had a weakness for strength, for viciousness, and Sakura seemed to have both in spades.  

Madara licks his dry lips unconsciously.

“The third?” he asks, somewhat breathless.  Sakura bites her lip, a twinkle in her eyes that promises danger and satisfaction all in one.

He’s never seen someone sexier.

“I was twenty-three, in my first year of medical school,” Sakura starts, the same measure of nonchalance, as if talking about the weather. “I was approached by two men with guns, knocked unconscious by a third.  When I woke I was in a dilapidated building, and a fourth man lay on a dirty table, bleeding out of his side.” She shifts her leg as if trying to cross them, but the tape holds strong.  Her face crumples with displeasure, but her voice continues on unaffected.  “They wanted me to… fix him. They had been watching the students at the school, waiting for someone small and weak to take with them.  They didn’t consider all the ways one could use a scalpel.”

Sakura’s grin is as sharp as any scalpel, dripping with the pleasure of the cat who caught the canary. Madara gulps, thrilled by her story, by the implications.  He knows a normal man would find her stories abhorrent, but Madara is not a normal man, nor is he a simple CEO of a humble company.

“Oh…” he practically groans, voice deep with his arousal.  “You’re not a very good girl, are you?”  Each syllable seems to rumble from deep in his chest.  Madara’s eyes follow the way Sakura’s legs clench together, and feels a responding thrill.

“No no no,” Sakura purrs, “I’m very good, that’s the problem.”

A chuckle rumbles in Madara’s chest.  “Mmm, I bet you are…”

Sakura smiles secretively. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

There’s a tension in the air between them, and a coinciding tension in Madara’s pants.  He very much wants to know.  What an interesting creature she is, this pink and green little sprite of a woman whose hands seemed drenched in blood, just as his were…

“The fourth time I was twenty-four.  Do you remember the Doll-Face Murderer?”

Madara’s nose crinkles, as if he suddenly smelt something awful.  He knew the Doll-Face Murderer a little too well, not that he was going to disclose that to her.  “That psycho who was killing and embalming people?”

Sakura nods.  “Yeah, that psycho.  He kept going on and on about how art was eternal, and how much happier I’d be as one of his puppets.”  The word is spat with scorn, the first negative emotion Madara has heard in her story.  “He said I was too pretty to grow old and die, just like all his puppets, and soon, we’d be family.”

The disgust rolling in his stomach at such a vile man contrasts with the eager thrill Madara feels at finding out which devious method of freedom Sakura had managed next.

“And?  What didn’t this one consider?”

Sakura smirks. “Embalming fluid is highly flammable, you know.”

Madara can only smirk in return.

“The fifth time I was also twenty-four.  Mr Doll-Face had an apprentice, though where the ‘master’ was obsessed with the preservation of all beautiful things, the younger enjoyed things more… fleeting.” Her tone is sardonic, and even though Madara knows where this is going, he’s totally entranced.

“While the apprentice appreciated the… art”—she emphasized this with a roll of her pretty eyes—“in his master’s end, he was still, well...”—Sakura paused to shrug—“ended. But where the master was meticulous and steady, the apprentice was more… explosive.  Competitive even.  Childish.  All it took was a few barbs and an issued challenge, and I was free from my binds. You can’t prove yourself an artist all tied up, or so I had said.”  Sakura batted her eyes in faux innocence.

“Let me guess,” Madara interjects, voice almost shaking with his excitement.  “He didn’t expect such a small girl to be so strong?”

Sakura laughs, the sound far more pleasing than any laugh had a right to be.  “Close, but no.  He didn’t expect to be swallowing his chosen artistic medium.  Though from everything he said while I was held in his captivity, I’m sure he would have enjoyed the art he himself became.  Art is an explosion, after all.”

“Iwa no Deidara and Akasuna no Sasori, done in by their own captive…” Madara murmured to himself as the implications overwhelmed his admiration.  He knew the two had died, and that both involved explosions of some sort, though both cases had been ruled as accidents.  It was a huge blow to his business, as both men had worked for him—Sasori for his expertise in prosthetics, and Deidara for, well, the other side of Madara’s business.

Sakura tilts her head down, looking up at him from under her eyelashes.  “Funny, how you seem to know those names.”

Madara clears his throat uncomfortably, not having meant to give that away.

“Well… when you’re as rich as I am, people… tell you things,” he tries to backpedal.  

Sakura’s sharp gaze tells Madara she doesn’t quite believe him.

“Tell me about the sixth,” Madara prompts, as if getting her to keep talking would have her forgetting his gaffe.

Sakura stares at him silently, eyebrows drawn and lips flat.  Then with a causal shrug, her teasing smile is back, eyes lit up with mirth.

“The sixth time, I was twenty-six, and tied up to a chair in a room with a man who liked to pretend like he was less than he seemed.”

Madara gulps.  He is not usually so easily shaken, and yet something about this woman, and the situation, has knocked him off kilter.

“I hadn’t found out who was behind the abduction, or why they wanted the man locked in the room with me. At least, not before I managed to free myself.”

Madara’s brow furrows. “And how did you manage that?”

There is a shuffle, the sound of something tearing, and then Sakura pulls her arms from behind her back. “Whoever took us didn’t consider that a girl might have sewn razors into the seams of her clothes, since she’d been kidnapped so many times.”

As Sakura bends down to cut through the tap holding her legs to the chair, Madara breaks out into raucous laughter.

“Oh, you are a gem, aren’t you, Sa-ku-ra?”

Sakura looks up from her sawing to send him a wink.  She makes quick work of freeing herself, taking a brief moment to stretch out once she is completely free.  Even from where he sits, Madara can hear her bones crack and pop as muscles and tension is shaken out of her frame.  Sakura sighs in satisfaction, the noise sounding almost lewd, though Sakura doesn’t seem to notice—not the way Madara does, at least.

Without wasting a moment more, Sakura walks behind Madara’s chair to release him from his binds.  The relief he feels at having his arms free is a gift and a curse.  The burning in his back stopped, but the uncomfortable sensation of blood flooding his limbs suddenly has him hissing in displeasure.  He shakes his arms in an attempt to speed up the process as Sakura works on releasing his ankles.

The sight of her kneeling between his legs has Madara thinking of all sorts of inappropriate things.

It was a sight that ended too soon for Madara’s preference, but he’s aware that this is not the time nor the place for the things he’d like to do to and with Sakura.

But once we’re free…

Sakura drags the table over to the air vent, peering through the slats as if she might see where it led. It’s not very large, though it might be wide enough for Sakura to squeeze through.  She uses the blunt end of her razor to unscrew the vent cover from the wall, handing it over to Madara to put on the floor.  As Sakura considers the opening, Madara can’t help but appreciate the view from below.

“You won’t fit,” Sakura says, looking down at him.

Madara smirks for a moment, a double entendre rolling around in his head, one he makes sure to keep to himself.

“No,” he says instead.

Sakura considers him from her superior position, both literally and figuratively.

“Your best bet is to play like you’re still tied up, then slam them with the table when they turn to look for me.”

Madara raises his brows. “You won’t come back for me?”  His voice is steady, almost blasé.  He’s not sure if he should be surprised or not; from everything Sakura has told him in their short acquaintance, Sakura was a survivor, not a hero.  He doesn’t expect Sakura would freely risk her life for his.

Sakura shrugs with a single shoulder, lips pursed to the side, eyebrows lowered as if to say ‘what can you do?’

Even as she was about to abandon him, he can’t help but think she looked cute doing it.

“I’m a very rich man,” Madara says, as if that reminder will change everything.  “I can make you very wealthy.”

Sakura raises her eyebrows with a scoff.  “I’m a surgeon, Madara; I’m already wealthy.”

“I’m a very powerful man,” Madara tries again, a different angle.  “I can get you anything you could dream of.”

Sakura lets out a short huff.  “You’re sounding kind of desperate.”

Madara chuckles, brushing his long hair over his shoulder.  “Well, this is the first time I’ve been abducted, cut a man some slack.”

Sakura is quiet for a moment as she considers her options.  Her eyes trace Madara’s features, as if she can find the answer to whatever questions were rolling around in her brain.  It felt like an eternity, what with the stress of being captured and the thrill of potential freedom flooding his blood with adrenaline.

Then, blessedly, she speaks.

“I want honesty, Madara. Can you give me that?”

Madara considers her question for a moment, before nodding.  What harm could it do?  Sakura was just a surgeon with a penchant for getting in and out of trouble.  A very pretty surgeon, a very naughty girl, whose skills had Madara swallowing down an inappropriate lust.

“Who took us?”

Madara crosses his arms with a sign.  “I can’t be sure, but it’s likely the Senju.”

Sakura’s brow scrunches together.  “Senju? As in, the Clan of the Thousand-Armed Avalokiteshvara?  What do they want with you?”

The Senju were both famous and infamous.  The mayor of Konoha was Senju Hashirama, a likeable goof who got elected based on his charisma more than his competency.  The infamous half was run by the mayor’s brother, Senju Tobirama—though to keep his dirty dealings separate from the good name of his brother, the… gang Tobirama led was called and depicted as the thousand-armed bodhisattva, Avalokiteshvara.  It was ironic that that clan was named after a being that represented compassion when the things Tobirama and his gang did were downright cruel.  

While most people referred to the gang as the Thousand-Armed Gang, Madara refused.  All Senju did terrible things, and their attempt to pretend like there was good amongst them was a farce.  Though it was true that the Uchiha weren’t saints, they never hid from their name, or their deeds.  

It helped, of course, that the police force was Uchiha run, but that wasn’t important at the moment.

Madara puts on an air of indifference before answering.  “It could be anything.  They’ve never been friends of the Uchiha.”

Sakura squints her eyes in scrutiny before her expression hardens.  “Liar.”

It was only one word, but Madara can hear the vitriol dripping off of it.  But instead of offence, he feels another thrill down his spine.

An indolent smile stretches across Madara’s face.  Precious girl, Madara finds himself thinking, what I would do to you...

“The price was truth, Madara.  I want to know why those bastards took me, and I know it has everything to do with you.”

Madara had worked that out, too.  There was only one reason to take him and a surgeon, and that bastard Tobirama likely had him placed with Sakura so Madara would know exactly what he wanted.

Madara sighs in resignation, flipping his long hair over his shoulder.  “A powerful man such as myself comes into contact with a number of interesting characters, many of which have a number of interesting objects, devices, and… compounds, they’re looking to sell.  But the most interesting of them all come with knowledge.”

“And… what knowledge is important enough to be kidnapped over?” Sakura’s nose crinkles with her confusion, and Madara once again finds himself admiring the woman.

“Have you heard of chakra?” he asks causally, rolling his shoulders to relieve some of the leftover stress.

“Chakra?  Do you mean the seven chakra of the body?”

Madara shakes his head. “No.  There is an ancient legend of a princess from the moon and a forbidden fruit which offered superhuman powers.”

“Powers?” Though only one word, it’s dripping with skepticism. “What, they think you know the secret to… what?  Flight? Ice breath?  Laser eyes?”

Madara chuckles.  “Not quite.  According to the source, we’re trapped in a cycle of reincarnation due to a centuries old feud between the Senju and the Uchiha, back long before our clans went by those names.”

“Bullshit,” Sakura practically spits, angry at being jerked around.  “If you’re going to feed me this shit, I’m just going to go.”

“It’s not shit,” Madara growls, grabbing Sakura by the ankle so she can’t leave.  He doesn’t doubt that she could escape his grasp, but he hopes the motion would delay her.

“The legend,” Madara continues, “says that we—the Senju and Uchiha—came from the same family, one related to the Moon Princess.   However, a feud between two brothers split us apart.  In those days, we had access to the ability to mould and manipulate an energy known as chakra—made from a combination of physical and spiritual energy.  It sounded like bullshit to me as well, at first. That is, until I had my best minds look into it.”

That catches Sakura’s attention.

“And?  What did you find?”  She was almost breathless as she spoke.  Madara can’t help but imagine that voice in a different context, whispering against his ear as his hands explore soft curves and sensitive valleys.

“We found the secret to unlocking that power, of course.  Something only a surgeon could accomplish.”

Sakura leans towards him, the movement exposing a glimpse of cleavage as her shirt drooped with the angle. Madara licks his lips, unconsciously leaning towards her as well.

“There’s a region of the brain, by the very front of the prefrontal cortex.  Stimulate that the right way, and the ability to harness chakra is unlocked.”

Sakura leans back, arms crossed as she scrutinizes the fantastical information she was just told.

“Stimulate how?”

Madara chuckles.  She was just precious.

“I’m not going to spill all my secrets.  Get me out of here, and we can discuss this further.”

Sakura raises an eyebrow, turning towards the vent.  “If you aren’t full of shit.”

He can only smile at her attitude.  There’s something familiar about her, something that makes him dizzy and hyper focused all at once.  He’s never felt something like that before, though he is too enthralled with her presence to wonder at why.  

“Trust me,” he intones dryly, to which Sakura rolls her eyes.

She shakes her leg free of his grasp, sticking her head through the vent to finally get going. Just as her foot leaves the ground, Madara grabs her ankle again.

“Wait,” he calls, gently pulling Sakura back slightly.  She lands on the table once again, shooting Madara a disgruntled look.

“What.” It is a statement more than a question, her tone dry and irritated.

“Are you coming back for me, or is this goodbye for us?”

Sakura pulls her leg from his loose hold.

“Trust me,” Sakura says instead of answering properly, to which Madara rolls his eyes.  Then she is in the vent, and the only thing Madara can hear is the quiet shuffle as she wriggles her way to possible freedom.

He takes a moment to appreciate the view as she leaves, before moving the table back and sitting in his chair, ready to enact the plan Sakura offered for his escape.

##

Sakura army crawls her way through the vent, stopping when she arrives at an opened grate.  Using a combination of strength and aerobics, she slides her upper body out of the grate, holding on to the edge so that her legs can flip over and exit in front of her.  A pair of strong hands grasp her at the waist from behind, helping slow and ease her descent.

Sakura turns around and is confronted by a tall man with short white hair and three red lines tattooed on his face; one slicing through the middle of his lower lip and straight down his chin, the other two a mirroring each other, starting at the bottom of his ears and angled up towards the bridge of his nose, stopping just below the inside corner of his eyes.

“Sakura-chan,” the man says in a low voice, addressing her with familiarity.  His hands leave her waist as he steps back, allowing Sakura her space.

“Tobirama-ji,” Sakura replies with a playful smile.

Tobirama only stares back. He is a man of few words, and they both know what he is waiting to hear.

“He says it’s the prefrontal cortex,” Sakura informs her uncle and the head of her clan.

“See!” a woman’s voice calls from the other side of the room.  She has long blonde hair in two low ponytails, and a vicious smile on her red painted lips.  She sways under the influence of alcohol—sake, most likely—though her words aren’t slurred.  “My Sakura-chan can do anything!  Again and again, she proves that taking her was the right decision!”

“Enough, Tsuna-chan,” Tobirama intones dismissively with a swift glare, though the look was softer than it would normally be for most anyone else.  Tsuna-chan, or rather, Tsunade, was his youngest sibling and only sister, after all. 

Tobirama turns back toward Sakura, his face stoic as stone, though Sakura—through her years growing up with, and under the tutelage of both her mother and uncle—knows what he wants to ask next.

“He didn’t specify where, or how exactly, to stimulate the Awakening, but I’m sure I can convince him.”

“Hn.”  Tobirama nods.  “Then convince him,” is his last order, before Tobirama strides quickly and confidently from the room.

Tsunade approaches the girl she stole, the girl she made her daughter, and smiles.  “You did well, daughter,” Tsunade says sweetly, her breath reeking of expensive sake, before her expression hardened.  “But you’re not done.”

Sakura nods sharply.

“You know what you need to do.”

Sakura nods again.

The two women stand in silence, staring at each other as if their gazes alone can convey their thoughts.

Finally, Tsunade nods, then moves forward to kiss her stolen daughter on the forehead.  Sakura’s skin burns where Tsunade’s lips had pressed, as if the alcohol on her mother’s breath was potent enough to sting.  

Then, without another glance, Tsunade too strides swiftly from the room, leaving Sakura alone.

Sakura sighs, shaking her body to release the tension from both being cramped in that vent and the pressure her family has put on her shoulders.  

She has a job to do.

She has to make Uchiha Madara fall in love with her.

Then…

Then, she has to destroy him.

##

Senju Sakura walked into the hall, towards the room that had held her ‘captive.’

Haruno Sakura escapes the building with Uchiha Madara.

##

AN: Sooo I hope you enjoyed this! I have some ideas for where this would go next, but considering that would need to make this into a whole series it probably won’t happen. However, if you’re interested I could do a sort so summary of everything i imagine happening next. Thanks for reading!

[poeedamerons]

contigo aquí (como un perro fiel)

Read it on A03 

Carlos couldn’t blame anyone but himself for his current predicament. TK was beyond clear when they met - and on later dates - that he wasn’t looking for a relationship. He was looking for something casual: an outlet of all his anxiety, a distraction from the chaos inside his mind and heart. It hurt Carlos to be just a warm body, another notch on his bedpost and to know that what they share is just one of the many things TK does to feel something other than numb.

He thinks about the night he processed TK down at the station and his stomach churns at the thought that the fight might have got the other man closer to his goal than any moment they ever shared together.

TK’s a hurricane and Carlos never stood a chance. No matter how many times people warned him, hell, he even tried to stay away outside work calls, but TK's pull is stronger than any man he’s ever met.

Carlos stupid heart couldn’t help but fall for those puppy green eyes and boyish charm. He was truly a goner the moment he first saw TK on that fateful call. TK’s eyes had sparkled under the moonlight like glistening emeralds and his self satisfied grin was blinding, capable of lighting up the darkness. He was the most beautiful, wild thing Carlos has ever seen.

That night Carlos wished nothing more than to have that man look at him like that someday, but as things stood, the world had other plans for Carlos Reyes and TK Strand so he told himself he could bury his feelings and keep their friends with benefits arrangement going, because half TK was better than no TK at all and Carlos can't’ help but hold onto the hope that maybe the handsome firefighter would change his mind at some point and would see how perfect they are for each other and take on Carlos’ earlier date invitations.

Carlos of course knew better than to scare TK or make him feel pressured. Carlos isn’t like that, but with TK’s bad breakup, substance abuse history and his father’s cancer he knows he needs to be extra careful. Luckily to him, patience is one of his virtues and TK is worthy of all gentle care on this earth and Carlos is more than happy to become the firefighter's safe haven.

They’ve come a long way into their arrangement, but they are still nowhere near where Carlos wants them to truly be.

He sometimes allows his mind to trick itself into believing they are together, that all the times they meet up to go clubbing or to eat are dates between boyfriends, and not TK’s carefree way to be now that his life seemed to be stable enough. He even likes to think he helped TK reach that level of balance, but he knows he is kept at arm's length no matter how much he longs for the intimacy of a relationship and to be able to kiss his green eyed lover senseless whenever he feels like it.

But Carlos lives for those tiny moments where he can let go and be the lovesick fool he turned himself into. When TK smiles brightly at him before bumping their noses together, when they tease each other in and outside the bedroom, when they spend hours talking just about anything and nothing. In these moments everything else ceases to exist and TK is his whole world.

He knows how self destructive this is and he hates that he’s allowing himself to become this way, to get himself stuck into a relationship that is going nowhere but he really cannot put into words how easy it was to fall in love for TK. The other man had no idea the effect he could have on people, the effect he had on him. If this is what drug addicts felt, Carlos had a new level of empathy because he couldn’t help but come back for more.

He’s in deep, so deep Michelle started worrying he might be drowning. And the thing is, after a year, Carlos has to admit that he is. He is drowning in this mess and he can’t help but feel utterly defeated. He knows he isn’t perfect and can make a list of his flaws, but he knows he is a good looking guy, has a controversial but very community centered job that pays his bills and allows him to have a nice place and car and he is also pretty charming, if he can say so.

He’s been told many times he is made of boyfriend material, and while he never allowed that to get to his head...it seems that he either wasn’t the kind of boyfriend material TK was looking for or TK wasn’t really looking for one at all, and Carlos had to face the facts that he is either going to keep drowning until he spins out of control or he call it quits and focus on healing his heart.

The idea of ending them is like a gut punch for so many reasons, because it would mean to admit that TK has always been so close, but always so far out of his reach and nothing he did ever really changed that. He just sent himself deeper and deeper into heart break.

It’s a tough call, but one he has to make. Carlos takes a deep, sobering breath and sends TK a quick message asking if he is doing anything after his shift today. He presses send before he can chicken out and sets it on his table, trying to contain the anxiety that comes with waiting for an answer.

Sometimes he gets quick replies, sometimes it takes hours. Carlos at least knows it’s not because TK is ignoring him but because he might be on a call and too busy to check his messages. His phone vibrates with an incoming text message and it’s TK answering him back.

I’m free, wanna meet up?

Yes. Carlos texts back. Can we meet at the coffee shop by the fire station?

He thinks it's better to choose a public space, somewhere where they could talk somewhat privately, but where TK wouldn’t feel trapped.

Sure, see you there.

Now, all Carlos has to do is survive the excruciating hours until the end of both of their shifts and get this over with. He knew he was doing the right thing, even if his heart would break into a million pieces while doing it.

-----------

Carlos has to be honest, he had no idea what TK’s reaction would be, but he really wasn’t expecting TK to freeze across from him when he finally finishes his speech, one that he spent the rest of his shift carefully crafting and rendered him absolutely useless for any work.

Uneasiness fills the pit of his stomach and he can hear the hammering of his beating heart, like it wants to break free from it’s cage, but Carlos waits for TK to speak up first. The silence that fills their table isn’t an awkward one because Carlos knows TK and he knows the other man sometimes just needs a few minutes to process things and react. He is aware that this is something T.K worked hard on with his therapist, a method to keep himself from relapsing and Carlos not only respects that, but is supportive of TK’s efforts and needs.

“Is it something I did?” TK asks, his brows furrowing like he was presented with a really hard puzzle.

Carlos is caught off guard with the question. “TK,” he exhales, struggling to get the right words out. “You haven’t done anything wrong,” it was more of what T.K did not do or is unwilling to do. Still, he leans in the table, his fingers gripping his coffee cup for dear life.

TK’s green eyes were focused on him and Carlos has to fight the shiver that wants to run up his spine.

“I just…” am helplessly in love with you and I can’t bear it any longer that you don’t want me back his traitorous mind completes, but Carlos knows he just can’t impose his unrequited feelings on TK anymore but he really couldn’t find a legitimate reason for it. “Don’t want to do this anymore. I’m sorry,” Carlos swallows the lump on his throat. He breaks his gaze from TK’s for a sobering breath. His chest feels tight and he can feel blood rushing through his veins. “I just wanted to tell you in person and make sure we are good,” Carlos gathers the courage to look at TK and commit his angelic face to memory.

There is slight crease on TK’s brows, but he remains quiet, as if waiting for Carlos to go on.

He wet his lips. “We will still see each other on a regular basis because of work and I didn’t want things to be weird. We have a lot of people counting on us.”

“Oh…” He hears TK’s gasp. “If that’s what you want, I guess all I have to say is…. Thank you?” Carlos has no idea what to say to that, he is even more confused on why TK’s eyes look a little hurt and bewildered, but his face and voice don’t betray much.

“So, we’re good?” He asks, clearing his voice.

“Yeah,” TK’s answers back after a few moments of silence. “We’re good”. Looking at the man across from him, Carlos catches a glimpse of a smile on TK’s pink lips as he speaks. It feels like a twisting knife to his heart.

“Good,” Carlos is fighting the tears that are threatening to spill, getting up from his seat. “I have to go, I promised Michelle I would help her go through some stuff on her sister’s case.” He gives TK what he hopes is a smile, but he is sure it’s closer to a grimace. Honestly, he couldn’t care less, he just needs to leave . “See you around?” He asks over his shoulder, in a last attempt at looking composed.

“Of course, Officer,” TK answers, throwing him one of his boyish, signature winks.

Carlos sobs all the way home.

-----------

He avoids any contact with the 126 for at least a week, which is nothing short of a miracle considering how much their paths cross during calls, but somehow Carlos manages to go an entire week without crossing paths with a single member of the AFD, without it looking like it was intentional.

While a week is not long enough to lick his wounds and start picking up the pieces of his heart, it's a start . It's more than he could possibly have managed on his own and there was no way he was going to jeopardize his job just because of a boy, even if said boy is probably the love of his life.

Michelle had been acting as his emotional crutch and Carlos couldn’t be more thankful for her friendship, but the void TK left in his life was not one that was going to be easily filled or forgotten. But it was nice to have someone taking care of him like that.

It’s not like Carlos isn’t expecting for them to meet on a call, he is, but he isn’t as ready as he believed himself to be. Watching TK in all his fireman glory, removing his helmet as his hair is blown by the wind and his eyes glint with excitement is harder than he ever anticipated. His heart tugs, his feelings for TK unchanged since their last meeting.

When their eyes meet, Carlos is ready for the awkwardness that follows, but it never comes. TK acts like his normal self and while it hurts, it’s clear that Carlos is the only one with his heart on the line. He is at least comforted by the fact that he made the right decision and should focus on forgetting TK Strand forever.

-----------

Carlos has no idea how he got dragged in this group date thing in this day and age, but there he was, at their regular bar, surrounded by coworkers and Sarah’s brother in law Michael. Sarah has tried setting them up before, but Carlos has always brushed off because of TK, but finally gave in.

Michael turns out to be pretty dreamy. He is good looking, has a nice 9 to 5, non-life threatening job and is very fun to be around. Carlos finds himself bent over in laughter several times during the night and is enjoying himself. He even allows his mind to wonder if this could be the guy that would finally take his heart and soul away from TK.

The sound of raucous laughter attracts Carlos gaze and he freezes as if a bucket of ice had been thrown over his head, because he caught sight of Mateo and Marjan and knows it is a matter of seconds before TK follows suit.

It's been four months, but seeing TK is never easy for him. Especially today, when he is - for the first time in months - on a date with a man he is currently hoping that might be just the cure he needs for TK Strand.

“Is everything okay?” Michael asks worried.

“Yes,” Carlos answers back, turning his gaze back to the man in front of him. “I just kind of lost myself with the noise.” He jokes, hoping to brush it off as distraction. The smile Michael gives him back shows him he was successful.

-----------

Carlos has no idea how the fight started. One minute he was line dancing with Michael, rolling with laughter. The next there’s people screaming, Michael on the ground and TK looking pretty angry with bruised fingers.

A crowd filled with angry voices closes them in and Carlos starts to worry that an even bigger fight between first responders might break out if this situation isn’t controlled. He makes his way to Michael, helping him up as the blond man holds onto his bleeding nose in a lousy attempt to stem it, thankfully Michelle is right behind him, ready to take charge of the situation.

He helps Michael sit on a chair and allows Michelle to do her thing. Asking the other man if he is alright is pointless, after all he just got punched on the nose, but he squeezes his shoulder reassuringly.

“I will check out if everyone is okay,” He absolutely lies to Michelle and his date, which is something he hates but he really needs to see if TK’s is alright and he isn’t about to tell them that. “I will be right back.” He releases the man's shoulders and receives a quick nod from Michael, and Michelle is too busy looking his date over to catch him on his lie.

He scans the sea of people inside the bar and TK is nowhere to be found. He sees some members of the 126, but decides against asking them where or even what happened. At least not yet. He doesn’t think he can process that at the moment. He chooses to make it through the crowd and towards the door, hoping TK might have run outside.

The cold night air hits Carlos in the face but all he can think about is finding where TK is. He scans the parking lot and his eyes zero on TK’s silhouette huching against Captain Strand’s car, grumbling what Carlos thinks is a string of curses. He almost smiles at the sight.

He makes his way to the other man, shoving his hands in the pocket of his jeans.

“Hey,” He calls out as he gets closer, alerting TK of his arrival and before he can get closer, TK starts to walk away. Carlos furrows his brow and lets out a sigh. So this is how’s going to be, huh? “TK,” He calls again, this time walking faster to catch up to him. “TK, wait up!” Really? They were going to play this game? Because Carlos was beyond tired of playing games and before TK could make a run Carlos wraps his fingers around TK’s arms. His grip firm enough to make TK pause, but not enough to hurt the other man or even trap him.

“What?” T.K’s snarls and Carlos is taken back by his tone, releasing his grip in shock. He has never seen or even heard TK sound like that and he is momentarily lost for words. He has seen TK after a fight and knows how the other man gets moody, but he can’t comprehend what motivated TK this time. He dreads even thinking TK might be relapsing.

“What do you mean with ‘what’, TK?” His voice is tight and for the first time in his life, his patience with the other man is running thin. “You punched Michael completely unprovoked. What the hell was that?” His piercing glance was trained in TK, but only when the other man raises his hands to his hair he remembers the bruised knuckles. “And you,” He huffs, annoyed. “Didn’t even get your hands looked at. How do you think it’s going to be tomorrow when you have to work?” God he was really annoyed at how TK could be so reckless with his health.

“Why do you care?” TK starts, with thinly veiled sarcasm. TK’s green eyes meet Carlos brown eyes with renewed anger. “Shouldn’t you be with - what’s his name again?” TK snorts sarcastically and Carlos could see him pretending to think it over. “Whatever is his name. Your new boytoy. Why don’t you go back to him and leave me alone?” TK expression turned sour, voice laced with poison.

Carlos sure as hell never seen TK acting like this, but he is not going to back down now. He can’t allow TK to go on like this.

“TK - fuck ,” His voice wavered. “You just can’t go around punching people, what’s gotten into you?” h e jabs his finger into TK’s chest. “I just… I can’t…” He runs his fingers through his hair as frustration settles in. “You make no sense. I don’t understand you at all. You are acting like a jealous boyfriend or somethi-” and it hits him, like a wave during a storm, unexpectedly but with such turbulent force that Carlos almost loses his footing.

TK was jealous. TK was jealous of him and Michael at the bar. That is why he picked the fight. Why he punched Michael. And unquestionably the reason why he was acting like a petty child during this whole conversation. The realization is staggering and Carlos for a moment feels like everything around him is in slow motion and the sounds of passing by cars seems like miles away.

“Are you jealous?” Carlos asks dumbfounded, because he needs to hear it from TK’s lips to believe it, even if all the clues lead to only one possible answer.

The guilty look on TK’s face and how his shoulders hunch tell Carlos that he is indeed right and Carlos hearts leaps with hope, set aflame by the possibility that TK might have feelings for him, like he always dreamed.

“TK,” He calls, this time his voice is soft and cajoling. He gets closer to the other man, his fingers trailing down TK’s arm to intertwine their fingers.

“I’m not jealous,” TK’s answer with a whisper and Carlos has to bite back a smile.

“Oh, so you punched a civilian just because you felt like it?” He asked, amused. No one could blame Carlos for enjoying this situation, okay? “I’m waiting, TK.”

Carlos can see him chewing on his lip before sighing, staring at the ground as if he had been defeated. “Fine, I’m jealous, okay?” TK continues as though on a roll, chuckling bitterly. “And today was karma, wasn't it? I’m being punished for pushing away the best thing that ever happened to me because I'm a coward.” He swallows.

“TK-”

“I was blind-sided. When you broke up with me. I didn’t see it coming. I just… hated losing you. I thought that I couldn’t have any serious relationship after everything that happened back in NY, but that wasn’t true. Because there was you, Carlos. You just showed up right on day one, swept me off my feet and -” he says, swallowing a painful lump. “Was just perfect. Everything I ever wanted. And then I lost you. And I didn’t know how to get you back because you ended things and I thought… I thought you just didn’t want me anymore. I was hurt, because I love you so much it hurts, Carlos” TK licks his lips. “And today you were with him, moving on and I just couldn’t - I just saw how happy you two were and I just saw red. So yeah, I’m jealous. Happy? Now go back inside to your date.” TK’s admits, looking a bit pained.

Carlos head is swimming with TK’s admission, so many feelings and so much information to process, everything is crowding together, screaming and jostling for attention that he feels once again in the night paralysed. But in the back of his brain he has the power to squeeze T.K’s hand in reassurance and leans in so their foreheads are touching. He can feel TK’s labored breath on his cheeks.

He could scream with happiness because TK laid his heart bare and is in love with him.

“TK,” he starts, his voice surprisingly firm for how vulnerable he is feeling himself right now. He refuses to move from their position and can sense TK stiffen, nerving himself for a rejection. “You are such an idiot,” He starts and can feel TK pulling back, but he stands his ground. “How can you think I have been anything but crazy for you since the day we met?” He smiles against TK’s nose. “I have been in love with you for months. The only reason I ended things with you is because I couldn’t keep it casual anymore. I want you all to myself.”

And then TK is all around him and his mouth is hot and surprisingly soft, dragging over Carlos’s lips again and again until Carlos can’t help but moan loudly, his mouth fall open for TK’s onslaught. He presses Carlos body forward against a nearby truck and TK’s fingers slide up Carlos back, touching him under his green henley.

“TK, I, fuck,” TK moans and the sound goes straight to Carlos dick, making his blood fizz wildly inside him. “Okay,” He pushes the other man. “We need to stop.” TK whines and Carlos chuckles.

“I know, cariño.” Carlos fingers touch the side of TK’s cheek. “But we need to get back inside, let Michelle take a look at your hand and then I am going to take you back to my place and have my dirty way with you.” He bites TK’s earlobe before pulling away, laughing at his expression.

“Must we?” TK asks, pouting his lips, hoping that would weaken Carlos resolve.

“Yes,” Carlos answers leaning in for a quick peck in the lips and pulls TK by the hand towards the bar entrance.

“Already boyfriending me, hun?” TK teases, eyes lit with joy.

“Oh, you haven't seen anything yet. I’m going to take care of you so hard, cariño.” A broad grin spread across Carlos' face, but his eyes soft.

TK smiles brightly. “Can’t wait.”

[geeky-diary]

Valentine's Day Box

Happy Valentine’s Day! I offer you this fanfiction! 

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

As pedestrians walked across the Pont des Arts, two boxes sat on a bench in the middle of the bridge. The red box was for Ladybug, and the black one was for Chat Noir. For Valentine’s day, the citizens of Paris had decided to leave out boxes and fill them with cards to show their love for the two heroes. Honestly, Marinette thought it was a little much. Neither of them needed to receive a card to know how cherished they were. Yet, she had still gone to the boxes with a card in hand. 

“I’m only here to show my appreciation to Chat Noir.” She whispered, “I’m not doing this because I have feelings for him.” She knew she was lying. At the very least, it was a half-lie. Ever since that day, when she battled Loveater and Miracle Queen, she had been trying to get over her feelings for Adrien. All she wanted was for him to be happy. If dating Kagami made him happy, then she didn’t want to interfere in their relationship. But it was hard moving on. Every time she saw him, She would force a smile while her chest painfully thumped. She would see aspects of him in other men.

It was mostly in Chat Noir. Initially, she believed the two boys couldn’t have been remotely similar. The more she observed, the less Adrien constricted her heart, she saw that they had quite a bit in common. They were both very playful, the same teasing and silly jokes. They were both naive, like little children experiencing everything for the first time. And they always had her back, her only allies when the world turned against her. Once she noticed those traits, a crush on the partner started to grow. She didn’t know if it was for him or if it was the aspects of Adrien she saw in him.

So she told herself that it was a half-lie. Because her muddled heart didn’t know what the truth was.

The bluenette shook her musings away before she completely fell into the dark abyss of her emotions. She marched up to the lone bench and slid her card into the black box. Having finished her task, she went back home. She had to get ready for her date this evening. One she was hoping would help resolve heer turmoil.

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

He knew this was a bad idea. Even Plagg had warned him against it. Yet he still stood on the Pont des Arts, a card clutched in his hand.

“You’re doing this for closure.” He said to himself, “So that you can finally move on.” But was that the truth?

Recently, Adrien had been trying to overcome his feelings for Ladybug. If she didn’t want to be in a relationship with him, then why should he continue to pursue one. He couldn’t bear the grief anymore.

However, in the time apart, he had only managed to confuse his own heart. The more he got to know Kagami, the more his fondness for her grew. He believed his affections for Kagami might have been as strong as those for Ladybug. But then there were times he could only see her as a friend. He still cared for her, but in the same way he did for Marinette.

Although, there were times when he thought Marinette could have been more than just a friend. That, maybe, his feelings for her were closer to what he felt for Ladybug. It might have been because the two were similar. They both had the same caring nature, always lending a hand to those who needed it most. Neither would bow down to those who wished to cause chaos, whether it be Lila or Hawkmoth. And, on the rarest of occasions, the same bravery that shined in his lady’s eyes could be found in Marinette’s as well.

Was it the same feeling, though? Was he just trying to find Ladybug in those he knew? Had he really come for closure? Or was it an excuse to lose himself in his adoration for Ladybug?

Whatever the truth was, Adrien couldn’t decipher it.

Taking a deep breath, he chose not to worry too much over his problems. Hee stepped towards the red box and pushed his card in. Then he walked off the bridge and got into his chauffeur’s car. This might be the night where all of his woes come to an end.

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

As the city lights illuminated all of Paris, the Place des Vosges was shrouded in darkness. The only source of light came from the candles that Marinette brought. Each was placed on a corner of the blanket spread across the ground. A basket once full of food was now placed off to the side. She laid on the cover as Luka softly strummed his guitar. It was a lovely melody, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She couldn’t have imagined a more romantic date than their night picnic. Everything was absolutely perfect.

So why did it all feel so wrong?

Every time the two hung out, Luka had managed to ease her mind. She had never been more relaxed than when she was with him. She didn’t feel the need to hide around him. That she could let all of her walls fade away and reveal her true self to him. So she had asked him out, hoping to clear her mind. She wanted to know if she could actually have a relationship with him. Maybe, he could help her move on from Adrien.

But as she listened to his music, she took notice of her heartbeat. It was steady, never once was there a pitch in speed. It was the same steadiness that would be accompanied by thoughts of her friends. It wasn’t the pounding she experienced whenever she would think of Adrien or even Chat Noir. All the times she interacted with Luka, her heart would stay the same pace. On some occasions, the speed would increase, but they were very brief. The infatuation she held for Luka couldn’t compare to those she held for Adrien.

With that, guilt clouded over the girl. Luka cared for her and seemed like he wanted to be more than just friends. And she had asked him out so that she could use him to get over Adrien. That wasn’t fair to him. He didn’t deserve to be treated that way. This date now had left a sour taste in her mouth, she couldn’t go on with it.

“Luka,” She murmured, catching the boys’ attention. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t right.”

He didn’t respond, with no signs of anger or sadness. As Marinette sat back up from the ground, she stared directly into his eyes.

“It’s just that, well, I feel like I haven’t been honest with you. I have feelings for someone else. But he seems to be interested in one of my friends, so I’ve been trying to let go of my feelings for him. And I’m using you as a way to move on and that just not rig-.”

“It’s fine, Marinette,” Luka finally spoke. He reached out and tenderly grabbed her hand, trying to comfort her from her negative thoughts. “I understand. It can be hard to get over someone you care for.”

She was so relieved by his words to know that he wasn’t upset by what she had done. She didn’t want to lose him as a friend. She thanked him with a hug, and he returned the gesture. 

“Adrien is one lucky guy,” 

“Why do you say that?” Marinette pulled back and gave him a curious look.

“Anyone would be lucky to have someone as amazing as you love them.” Then Luka got up and strolled out of the park, leaving one blushing Marinette behind.

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

Flower petals littered across the floor, while the restaurant had placed a vase with a single rose each of it’s tables. The lights were dimmed to make for a more romantic setting. Everyone was well dressed this evening, wearing only their most elegant clothes. Adrien table faced the window, able to see all the couples that walked past. He and Kagami had just finished their deserts, casual chatting until the check came. They had been having a great time together. Everything had gone smoothly.

As he stared at Kagami, though, all he could wonder was why it this whole night had felt off. He cared a lot about her. Be it her fierceness during battle or her blunt demeanor, there was not a side to her that he disliked. They both had so much in common, he found it easy to confide his grievances with her. They should have been perfect together.

 And yet, all he could do was picture another girl on the other end of the table. One with the brightest bluebell eyes and who wore their hair in two pigtails. He could almost see her face, but the image was just out of reach. He was so pathetic, dreaming about Ladybug while on a date with another girl. He was hopeless. Maybe he just needed some time to truly get over the superheroine. What he did know was that he wasn’t ready to start dating. Then he couldn’t continue to lead Kagami on. Though he didn’t want to hurt her.

“Kagami,” He said, gazing down at his empty plate.

“Yes, Adrien.” She quickly replied.

“Listen, I want you to know that I like you a lot. But right now, I don’t think I’m ready to date someone else.”

She stayed silent, her stern exterior not giving away any emotions. The longer the silence held, the more nervous Adrien became.

“It’s just that, well, I still have some unresolved feelings for another girl and I don’t think it’s fair to ask you out and sit here thinking-”

“Did I ask out the wrong girl?” Kagami suddenly cut him off, predicting the end of his sentence. A small smile crossed face as she got out of her chair and walked to his side of the table. Grasping his shoulder, she leaned down to look him straight in the eye. “I don’t want you to have any moments you regret with me.”

She gave him a kiss on the cheek, her last words breathing across the surface. “I hope you’re able to satisfy Marinette. I’ll see you at fencing practice.” Then, she strode out of the restaurant, leaving behind a very confused Adrien. 

It wasn’t long until the boy found himself back on the Pont des Arts. At that moment, though, he was no longer Adrien. He had transformed into Chat Noir, to make sure no one could identify him as he took his Valentine’s day box. He wasn’t the only one on that bridge, as he recognized the other figure.

“Ladybug?” 

The girl turned around, her beautiful eyes shining under the lamplight. He really wished she wasn’t here. He had wanted to be alone for the rest of the night to ponder over his relationships. He didn’t need to get distracted over her radiance.

“Did you come here to pick up your box too?” She asked, appearing quite joyful to see him. 

He nodded, stepping up to the bench where the box rested. Ladybug's box was overflowing with cards with bouquets of roses surrounding the exterior that one could barely tell that it was red. Meanwhile, his box was not empty, but nowhere near full either. He wasn’t surprised by the lack of cards. The people adored Ladybug more than they did him, so it only seemed fitting that she would get the most. 

Ladybug must not have liked the number of gifts he received as she plucked a rose from one of her bouquets and handed it to him. While it was not meant to be a romantic gesture, he could help but think of it as so. He accepted the rose, his cheeks tinted red under his mask. 

As she went back and tried to pick up her box, the current of wind flew by and carried one of her cards away. It was the card Chat Noir had given her. Before it could get too far away, she jumped up and grabbed it. Landing back on the bridge, she took her time reading the contents contained within. He had hoped she had liked what he had written. And apparently, she did like it as a blushed formed on her face.

“Sooo, what’s it say?” Chat Noir already knew what it said, but he didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to tease her.

“Nothing!” The superheroine replied defensively.

“Ah, come on. Not just anything can make you blush, Bugaboo. Whatever that card says must be very special.”

“I’m not going to tell you what’s written on this card unless you can tell me what’s on one of yours.”

“Alright.” His hand dove into the black box and pulled a single card. He glanced down at the name and was shocked, nearly dropping the card in the process. Knowing who wrote it, he carefully read the words.

Dear Chat Noir,

I know that most people see Ladybug as the most important hero in Paris, but she wouldn’t be able to save the day so many times without your help. No one is as confident or charming in battle as you are. I hope everyone will be able to see how important you indeed are.

Love, Marinette

He beamed at her words, wishing to thank her personally. He looked back towards Ladybug, her flushed face changed into one of dread.

“That must have been some letter.” She shyly uttered. Her usual confidence was gone, but he couldn’t figure out why.

“It’s just from a good friend.” He didn’t have the energy to lie tonight. “When we first met, I thought she hated me. But now, I think she’s just shy.”

“Adrien.” The words jolted through him like a lightning bolt. How could Ladybug know? There was no way she could have figured out his identity from a few words about the person who wrote the note. Unless she knew who wrote it. But he hadn’t shown her the name written. The only way she could know was if she wrote the note.

“Marinette.”

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

This couldn’t be happening! There was no way that Chat Noir was really Adrien! She had to be wrong. But he had answered with her name, it had to be him. And now he knew it was her too.

As the two just stared at one another, shocked to silence by their own discoveries, Ladybug thought of the letter he had written.

Dear Ladybug,

Ever since you’ve come to Paris, you have continued to show the people your compassion and bravery every day. There is no one the people adore more than you. I hope you continue to shine for the world as the heroine we need.

Love,  Adrien

She had started to develop feelings for Chat Noir, but now they were worthless as well. For he was Adrien, and she had wanted to move past him for the happiness of others. 

She couldn’t believe it had been him the entire time and she hadn’t noticed. When she hadn’t been able to talk to him at school, he had still been by her side the whole time. He would flirt with her behind a mask, seeing her in a way that no one else could. She was embarrassed by the lack of foresight.

She almost ran off the bridge, until Chat Noir, or Adrien, started to laugh. It was loud and boisterous, a sound made after a funny story. Though, she wouldn’t have classified this as a funny story.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I’m sorry M’lady, it’s just you’re both so similar that I can’t believe I couldn’t connect the dots sooner.” His little fit slowly ceased as he reached out and held her hand with his own. “You’re both clever, fearless in the face of danger, and are kind to almost everyone you meet.”

“Oh, yeah,” She let out a little chuck herself. “Well, you’re both completely silly, naive, and always have the back for those you care for.”

The two teens giggled at their answers. Marinette was actually glad about who Chat Noir was. Even if it was dangerous to know each other’s identities, it could only make the two grow closer.

“So, which side of me do you like more Bugaboo? Because for me, I’m completely enamored with both of you.”

Her heart stilled at his words. In her joy, she had almost forgotten that there were people outside of their little moment. People that he cared for.

“That’s not true.” She solemnly responded.

“Aw, come on, mask or not you’re still the same person. Of course, I’d love both sides of you.”

“But what about Kagami?”

Finally, understand, Adrien let out a long breath as he tucked a small bit of hair behind her ear. His thumb tenderly swiped across her cheek as his gorgeous green eyes gazed into her own.

“Tonight, I told Kagami that I still had feelings for you. Ya’ know what she said, she hoped I could satisfy you.”

She was amazed by Kagami’s words. Before, she had been so resolute in not giving up Adrien to anyone, not even her. Why now did she suddenly change? Was it because of what he had said? Or was it because she valued their friendship so much that she was willing to let him go for her as well? Whatever the reason, she was glad to have been given Kagami’s blessing.

She leaned forward, their noses an inch apart with only a few more between their lips.

“Funny, Luka had said something similar tonight as well.”

“Oh yeah, and what was that?”

“That you were a lucky guy to have someone like me loving you.”

“Which side of me.” It didn’t matter how she answered, his next action would be the same. But, she gave him the most honest answer she could.

“Both.”

Instantly, their lips connected. It was a moment of pure bliss for the two, finally able to convey the feelings that had been bottled up for so long. Both tried to put as much passion into the kiss as they could, never wanting this moment to end.

Both of their nights had ended the same way. With peace of mind, finally able to know the truth behind their own feelings. On the Pont des Arts, their first Valentine’s day together came to an end.

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

A/N: I know it’s really late by the time I’m posting this, but I was too busy with school work this week to write this sooner. Plus, I’ve been working on a different story for a while so this one was kinda last minute. This one was kinda difficult to write, mostly Luka and Kagami. I didn’t want them to be written OOC, but I don’t know if I accomplished that. I wanted to make them understanding and not villains because their not. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoyed this story!

[zwiezraczek]

Hey love!:) are you still taking requests? if so, can you do 8 &10 she/her with four?:D

Out The Window [Blurb]

8. “Why are you doing this to me?” 10. “I'd like to kiss you... Joking... Unless?”

~~~

You blew the strand of hair from before your eyes, after hiding the unconscious guy in the closet. Another day in your beautiful hitman life. Nobody saw you getting in, nobody would see you getting out. And as you entered the elevator, your phone rang. You took it from your purse, looking at the screen to know who dared interrupt your flow at the end of a mission. One, of course One.

First of all, what a stupid idea to go by code names; you knew him in the orphanage, you were way younger than him, but you became friends pretty quickly. You still looked, impressed, at his magnetic inventions, and followed the grand finale a year ago on the boat where they stopped Murat. A great masterpiece, and you were pretty angry at him for not inviting you, as he promised to. But you couldn't blame him: you refused to be Two. When he explained his fucked up story, telling you that he was dead and that you should die too to be able to work with him, you didn't hesitate for a second: it was a solid no, for obvious reasons. Dying, faking its own death wasn't fun to you, it was mire troublesome than anything else. You had to hide in the desert, with him, and his little team. It was a big no to you. But you helped him recruit Three. Because you heard about Javier many times, you even spoke with him when he was a hitman, but that was all before he killed that father almost in front of his daughter and began to withdraw from the job. So you gave One Javier's number and current location. The rest, is history.

“What do you want,” you asked after answering the phone.

“I need help Extra,” he whispered.

“What is wrong with you with these code names,” you said, after the doors of the elevator closed and you clicked on the first floor.

“No time for talking about that, I'll need you for a mission, you in?”

“Oh, now when you're a famous savior you call your old friend Extra,” you teased him, the elevator stopped, two men stepped in, looking suspiciously at you. You had to lie low. “So, what's the problem darling,” you cooed, your hand on your hip, playing it seductive.

“You're in trouble,” he asked.

“Maybe yes, maybe no, depending of what you think,” you whispered into the device, sensually as the men in front of you turned bright red. Bingo.

“Calling you later Extra, I already have two fucking in who-knows-where and I don't want to do that,” he replied, a bit disgusted.

“Love you too,” you whispered before turning off the phone. “'Twas my baby,” you said to the men in front of you, a big smile on your face, “can't wait to see him again!”

They went silent, still bright red. You had your small revenge on One, and now you needed to know what he needed you for so badly.

~~~

Great you thought, as you had to find a way out of there, running on these heels. Fuck, you continued bare foot. You had no way to communicate with One's crew, who apparently knew who you were. More or less. And the only thing you knew that there was Seven, the sniper who eliminated half the guys who were trying to kill you on your way up there, and Four, the parkour expert. You still were pretty curious to know why One decided to put this guy right here, and not Javier or Two, people who would help you inside. A mystery.

You stopped by the corner, hiding behind a curtain, sitting on the edge of the window, as you heard men running to find you. You held your breath, closing your eyes and hoping the wouldn't notice you. You could hear them talk about you, about not knowing where you were, in these dark hallways. You heard footsteps, running away. Great. You sighed, relieved and stood on the ground, opened the curtains. Shattering of glass behind you, somebodywas getting inside, almost falling on you. The dark figure stood in front of you, you began to push him towards the window, holding him by his collar, not far from letting him fall down.

“Why are you doing this to me,” the guy almost yelled looking you right in the eye, eyes glowing in the pale moonlight, “I'm Four! Don't you fucking try to kill me, Extra!”

“Next time don't scare the shit out of me,” you told him, pulling him inside, as he looked at you dusting his hoodie. “So this is your escape plan, you asked, arching an eyebrow, “not subtle.”

“Not my idea,” he defended himself.

“She's funny,” Seven said into Four's ear, chuckling a bit after this exchange. He still looked at them, the path was still clear, nobody seemed to hear the breaking glass.

“She almost killed me, mate,” he retorted, you looking at him.

“Oh, it's Seven? Tell him that he does a neat sniping job.”

“Yeah, compliment one of the guys who comes to save your ass, Extra,” Four complained, rolling his eyes. “This way,” he headed going through the window as you followed.

“I'll thank you when I'll come out alive from this fucking mess One put me in.”

~~~

You heard your heart beat to the beat of the drums. From all the things you could have imagined, a party that One agreed to go to with his whole crew and you, this would never came to your mind. You put on your little black dress, dancing with a glass of champagne in your hand, right next to Two who brought you the glass you held. The crew was pretty nice, and you asked yourself if being with them wouldn't be a better life choice than living your hitman life – especially after the small conversation you had with Javier, who was absolutely glad that he stopped all of this, not being longer held by the missions and the contracts, but you loved this adrenaline, even if it meant working for the bad guys the most of the time.

The party you went to wasn't held by One, it would be a miracle, you just managed to go through the security together, with confident smiles on your faces and the looks needed to enter the place. The music blasted into your ears, and heart. And dancing with Two was a true pleasure, and even more than that. She seemed so cold but in fact she was the one to know how to have some fun with all these things around, with people, and taking advantage of who to get what she wanted. A true hitman indeed.

As you were dancing with Two and a flute of champagne, Four looked at you from afar, drinking another flute of champagne next to Seven. Probably too much flutes, because he stopped counting them. Mostly because you were the one intriguing him, on his mind since you almost threw him out this window when you first met. An instant crush. Four had something for dangerous women, he knew it – this was why his girlfriend dumped him from this building when he was in Ukraine stealing the necklace, too dangerous woman.

Seeing you climbing behind him, in that dress and bare foot, this was a new kind of experience he never knew he needed in his life. Your hairdo becoming messy as you jumped on the zipline he prepared, without any fear and he looked as your bun undid itself as you flew above the buildings. A truly magnificent view.

“Stop devouring her with your eyes and go to talk with her,” Seven said, elbowing him, “or otherwise you'll be wallowing for the next few years.”

“Wanker,” Four replied, putting the flute on one's server tray. “She's dancing with Two, she has fun with Two, and she likes Three. What the fuck am I to her? A youngster, One would say.”

“She's younger than One,” Seven remarked.

“Everybody is younger than One.”

“Don't be so over dramatic.”

“She tried to kill me.”

“That almost turned you on,” Seven remarked as Four made big eyes, “you said so, I noticed? Stays between us.” Four mouthed a thank you, before disappearing in the crowd to go and see her.

He had to breathe in, and breathe out. He was a total mess, a stupid mess. You were older than him – not much but still, it impressed him a lot, okay? – and he looked at you, having fun with Two before saying “fuck it” and going up to you.

Kesha. Great. “Oh what a shame that you came in with someone.” “We're gonna die young.” He was about to. He could feel butterflies in his stomach, his dizzy head as he approached you, sheepish and timid. You turned back, and saw him in his white collar shirt, standing in front of you. You tilted your head, curious to know what he wanted, Two having her full attention on Javier now.

“I'd like to kiss you”, he whispered, and he caught you off guard. He stood there, like a child, harmless.

“What,” was the only reply you could give him at that precise moment.

“Joking,” he pursued, playing with his fingers as you leaned closer to look at him. He looked so cute.

“Four, what do you want,” you asked him, maybe a bit impatiently. You too maybe wanted to kiss him. Maybe just a bit. Or maybe even more.

“Unless,” he continued, plunging his beautiful crystal eyes into yours.

“Fuck it,” you said, as you took him by his waist to kiss him.

Your lips against his, alcohol scented, as much as yours. He ran his fingers through your hair, delicately biting your lip as you parted to catch your breaths. He smiled against your lips, satisfied that you didn't throw him out that window, but almost.

[gascon-en-exil]

Mercilessly Judging the Men of Fòdlan: The Empire

It’s been a long time coming, over eight months in fact, but now that it may be assumed that the last of the DLC has been released and the fandom as a whole has settled comfortably into its various camps I think there’s no better time than now to answer that burning question: how raunchily, outrageously gay can the male cast of Three Houses possibly be? For those unfamiliar with this fun little series of mine, I’ve been applying my extensive knowledge and experience of gay male sex and hookup culture to the men of Fire Emblem, originally as a way of reckoning with the refusal of the games themselves to provide me with any worthwhile self-insert M/M content. I stand by that premise for FE16 - you all know how absolutely nothing appeals to me about m!Byleth or his prospects on that score - but in the years since my first outing of merciless judgment with Awakening that idea has expanded into something broader, an imaginative modern AU of sorts where all these guys are into men (if not always exclusively) and willing to put themselves out there in the lewd and semi-anonymous world of hookup apps in search of their preferred carnal delights.

A note on organization before we begin, as this material is too long to cram into one post. Excluding Byleth (as Avatars and their spawn always are for this project) there are twenty-one playable male characters in Three Houses. This makes for an even threeway division to preserve the eponymous conceit of the game, but not a particularly neat one. Aligned with the Adrestian Empire I therefore have below the male Eagles, Crimson Flower-exclusive Jeritza, former Imperial noble Hanneman, and...Seteth, because he’s the closest thing to a non-self-insert lord figure in Silver Snow and because he had to end up somewhere. As I said, not very neat.

The Kingdom

The Alliance

Hubert

His profile is sparsely filled out and his photo less than promising, but the select few who catch his eye will be treated to a courteous (if mildly acidic) barrage of introductory messages and polite requests to meet over coffee or a light lunch, no dick pics or requests for same in sight. It’s only after the exchange of small talk has passed that someone - could be you, could be him - brings up why he has kink as a listed interest, opening up a Pandora’s box of horrors as he casually shows you some of his photo collections. Asses red from whips and floggers, scrotums stuck through with pins, barbed cock rings, electrified nipple clamps, and ghastly shots of the man himself, his mouth dripping with blood over a fresh bite wound on his teary-eyed partner’s shoulder. He is, he explains, a Dom at heart - and the rougher the better. What he doesn’t explain and likely never will is that all that pain play and torture porn neatly covers for the fact that he’s less endowed and less skilled in that area than he’d be willing to admit, or that he harbors a secret longing to be Dommed himself, probably by someone close to him who has no interest whatsoever. He takes his career very seriously although you’ll never learn exactly what that entails, but you have a sneaking suspicion that whatever it is enables all those coldly violent impulses he displays in the bedroom.

Favorite erotic tea time subjects: CBT, vore, femdom

Favored gift: stiletto heels, for use on his face

Ferdinand

Within a minute of talking to him you know his full name, what prominent public figure(s) he’s related to, and where he plans on going with his life, in an overwhelming display of lack of concern for keeping his private life private that would be worrying if he didn’t pair it with an indefatigable self-confidence. The type of gentleman who expects flowers and opened doors and one person to pay for a whole date and coy blushing about going back to his place for some tea, but what unfolds afterwards may be surprising to anyone who wasn’t picking up on the subtext during the night out: that you’re dealing with a toned and vigorous vers/bottom who longs to lie back and be taken care of but absolutely will never turn down a challenge or request no matter how much it demands of him or how expertly he will be able to rise to the occasion. Long practice and some truly enviable thighs (he’s a noted equestrian, and loves showing off his album of favorite horses) let him milk a cock for hours - nearly as long as the subsequent pillow talk will be. It’s little wonder more than one of his lovers has had the idea to gag him...or to fuck him somewhere outside his bedroom once they go in and find the walls plastered with posters of his favorite pop and stage divas staring at you. Prime trophy husband material, wealthy and well-connected and fetching on anyone’s arm, but there’s no question that he’ll only be truly happy if he’s with someone who can challenge him to step out of his unusually large comfort zone: socially, professionally, or sexually.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: edging, crossdressing, fisting

Favored gift: a horse cock dildo, for his much-lauded huge hole

Linhardt

A master at genuinely negligent ghosting, it’ll take a minor miracle to actually arrange a meeting with this guy. Either he never answers, or he does but only to snap at you because he’s busy and only even logged into the app because his mind wandered for a second. Still, he draws a lot of attention from those into geeky twinks. Is not into foreplay, and can scarcely be bothered to maintain interest long enough to even stay hard unless you get lucky enough to hit on one of his subjects of recent fascination. Never offers to do anything in bed, and will in fact pick up his phone to browse through Wikipedia and Reddit while he’s being penetrated. Calling him out for his appalling lack of manners will get nothing more than a wry snort and a quick summary of whatever’s currently got his attention. Never cums, doesn’t seem to want to cum, and guys creative enough to try to ride him are often disappointed that he’s more likely to grumble that all that bouncing on his pelvis is making it impossible for him to catch a power nap. Just about the only way to fully get him invested is to get really weird - introduce him to some fetish he’s never thought to try. Incest kink, breeding kink, role reversals, elaborate roleplay...the more cerebral the better, because the physical stuff tends to put him off (especially blood play, which is his hard limit). Needless to say most aren’t up to that task, and so he’s nonchalantly left a trail of frustrated and disappointed men in his wake.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: somnophilia, historical roleplay, mpreg

Favored gift: a long-lasting vibrator, so he can stick it in and let it work while he’s otherwise occupied

Caspar

No amount of headless torso pics and carefully scaled dick pics will be enough for his ego, but encountering him in person will reveal that he’s not so much vain or delusional masc4masc as really, really compensating for something. This manifests as a deep-rooted resentment against guys taller than him or, ahem, better-proportioned, but his preference of sexual partners does not reflect his prejudices - which is fortunate for him given his measurements. Loud and energetic in all things, and it shocks no one that he’s a screamer in bed but also can’t last for very long once he really gets going. Lucky for everyone that his refractory period is unusually brief, although that leaves him deflecting odd inquiries into whatever substances he may be on (he’s clean and always has been, hard as that is for anyone to believe). Likes to top for the workout, but he won’t say no to riding a good dick. Has an unexpected sentimental side he’s not very good at expressing except indirectly, in the same way that he’s apparently oblivious to his casual innuendos. It will take someone very patient to put up with him, but the reward is (probably) worth it for the body alone provided he’s got a sufficient outlet for all that energy. Would be perfect for an active poly relationship or long-term FWB situation so no one guy has to manage him alone, but he’d have to be at the center of any such arrangement lest his numerous insecurities rear their heads. Is not into incest kink.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: post-workout sex, multiple orgasms, autofellatio (he wishes)

Favored gift: condoms a size too big for him, because even safe sex should be an opportunity for bragging

Seteth

He doesn’t share nudes, and says upfront that he’ll block anyone who asks or opens conversation with one. Seems to be genuinely interested in friendship over anything else, although he’s not great at small talk in text and would rather chat over snacks on a park bench or at one of the numerous community events he likes to organize. Is a family man through and through: devoted to his loved ones, quiet in his hobbies, and unusually spiritual in an orthodox church-going way. You start to wonder if he’s even into men or if his presence on the apps was just a very strange fluke, but he holds his handshakes just a little too long and progresses quicker to hugs and quietly intimate arm touches. Discussion of his prior love life is strictly off limits, but many months down the road when you finally get invited into his bed it’s clear that he’s no blushing virgin and is adept in the use of fingers, tongue, and cock for fully satisfying his partner. He might even bottom, although he’ll blush about being long out of practice in that area which suggests a wealth of untold stories by itself. He also may be, somehow, the only man in existence who knows what intercrural is and how to do it. Blessed with stamina far beyond what might be suggested by his age (which he only reveals several weeks into your acquaintance, another point of embarrassment for him), your encounters are far more likely to end with a phone call from one of the innumerable people who look up to him and depend upon his reliable if fussy sense of duty than it is from him tiring out. Fond of fishing, and known to take dates out to cast a line and then maybe have some naughty fun afterward. Does not appreciate being called a daddy, but he’s been known to accept big bro as an occasional slip-up.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: discipline, incest kink, scalies

Favored gift: your STI testing history, because he doesn’t mess around with that stuff

Hanneman

A polite if unassuming silver daddy, with no sugar for the obvious escorts but the cushy professional post and generosity to make him appealing to a less openly mercantile sort of young man. His chosen field is not an easy subject for light conversation, but damned if he doesn’t try his best regardless. His favorite tactic might be finding some way of applying his work to something about his date, no matter how tenuous the connection or how unwelcome the observations. Not super fit and doesn’t get out much so as the night is winding down he’s not good for very much other than intermittent blowjobs and even more languid handjobs, although a truly dedicated partner might coax something more out of him with help from a little blue pill or two...and maybe some poppers, because he’s old enough to remember when everyone used those. Despite his reputation for mildly inappropriate perving on guys young enough to be his sons - some of which he acquired in a professional context, with some of his favorite anecdotes of past trysts involving junior lab techs/TAs/secretaries/others among his subordinates - he’s not actually averse to fooling around with men closer to his own age, although he’s more awkward about it since he’s a bit out of his element when he’s no longer the only experienced voice of wisdom in the room. Either way, if there’s one thing he hates it’s sloppiness, whether in one’s personal or professional life. As a result he avoids bars like the plague and has little patience for drunks. Contrary to this fastidiousness however his advances in his career are such that he may one day do something radical and ill-advised in the pursuit of knowledge; one only hopes that the various skeletons hiding in his closet don’t come back to haunt him - with regret or harassment lawsuits or who only knows what else.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: medical kink, teacher/student, cock milking

Favored gift: consent to video encounters, for future reference

Jeritza

The kind of rough trade all your friends warned you about...except he’s not rough trade, not really. Deeply troubled and disarmingly attractive is a deadly combination, and he thrives in a medium where one-word responses and explicit pics are considered perfectly commonplace. Encounters with him are quick and rough and nearly anonymous, always in the dark and with little opportunity to see or interact with him apart from the hands grasping you to him and the admittedly impressive cock jabbing into you from whatever angle he can manage. He’s had the threat of assault charges or worse thrown at him more than once, but it’s never made him any more considerate or careful. To the very rare individual who keeps returning for more the most explanation he’ll ever provide is that he becomes someone else when pursuing sex, someone hard and violent and not at all like the person he insists that he is. This is something he ties into some deep-seated trauma, but there’s something distinctly insincere about the underlying psychology as if it were only an excuse for an abuse fetish run wild. Pretty much all of his tricks ghost him at that point, wanting to get as far as away as possible from a true crime drama just waiting to happen. Curiously enough if he ever does find a long-term partner it won’t be with the expected extreme masochist - expect them only to show up in a police report one day, with extremely gory pictures - but with someone who can match his lustful bloodlust with more of the same and who is totally comfortable throwing around death threats that at some point transform into only moderately disturbing innuendos. 

Favored erotic tea time subjects: masks, blood play, asphyxiation

Favored gift: anything sweet he can lick off your body...because it’s either that or viscera

[fangirllifu]

Sweet Like Pudding Ch. 13

Italics - thoughts

Turns out Yaku didn't have to worry about anything. He should've prepared himself instead. Sure they had an inkling that she was skilled, not a lot of people were able to respond to the Freak Quick on the first encounter, but she did and so perfectly at that.

Yesterday's short game allowed them a glimpse of what she could do. But it was so much of an understatement, it was almost laughable. The game started pretty slow. Nobody was yet used to the line ups, so they were still testing waters. Mistakes were inevitable. But when dealing with hormonal teenage boys with huge-ass prides, it's bound to be one hell of a ride.

It happened just after the second time-out of the first set was called. Asahi had called for a toss. As Akaashi set the ball, Lev moved to block. But he had jumped too early, his block wouldn't make it. So she ran and jumped, gritting her teeth as she lightly collided with Lev.

She couldn't block for the life of her, but she could most definitely change the course of the ball to make it easy for the others to pick it up. She smirked in satisfaction as she heard Yaku receive the ball.

"Bless him and his incredible reflexes."

Her smirk became a full blown grin once the ball Koutaro spiked landed right in the middle of the opposite court.

Meanwhile, Lev was shaking in anxiety. He'd just been told to watch the timing of his jump and yet he still messed it up.

"I'm going to get yelled at."

"OI LEV—" Yaku called to his visibly trembling kouhai, only to be interrupted.

Kanna delivered a loud and very painful strike to Lev's back. No words were exchanged as she made her way back to her position. And just like that, Lev felt so overwhelmed that tears were threatening to fall. He knew, as well as the others that that gesture by no means meant that his mistake was forgiven. But that if he ever made any, she'll be there to back him up.

Yaku, along with the rest of their team stared at Kanna's back in astonishment. That simple action wasn't meant for Lev only. It was a clear message to the rest of the team, the same goes for them.

"Such a small body and yet so dependable."

They thought, as determined grins broke on their faces.

"We can't leave all the hard parts to her now can we."

The opposing team watched this all happen in wonder. The Bokuto cousins sure do have the super power to lift up morale in the team without even doing anything special.

"Truly troublesome."

Determination only wasn't enough to win a game. Kanna's team had lost the set. Although the momentum of the previous set was with Team B, at the start of the second set, Kanna's Team soon took control. With a renewed and calculated attack strategy, they won the second set with a 5 point difference.

As the second set ended, the coaches came together to discuss what has happened so far. They agreed that it was a good thing that at the end of the first set, Bokuto gave his cousin free reign on the team. The change was instant. The coaches couldn't believe what they were seeing. And immediately regretted on not taking into account that possibility, they would have missed out on something truly outstanding.

The Bokuto cousins were truly on a level of their own. But unlike her male counterpart who leads his team to victory by continuously pushing for points, Kanna leads her team on by strengthening any holes that appear while within game. She might as well be the living embodiment of what Kageyama once hoped to be, a one-man team.

Her awareness on court, from her teammates to the opposing team, is remarkable. She has the speed and technique to greatly utilize her incredible game sense, and she adapts. Adapts so fluidly that it's frightening, enough to make a chill run up their spines. But that's just what these boys need.

But the coaches had a feeling that not all of her cards were on the table. Even though they couldn't wait to see what more she has in store, the shock to actually witness it was still huge.

It happened on the third set, just after Kanna's team achieved the set point. The opposing team managed to make Kageyama take the first touch, which scrambled their formation. They all watched as Kanna ran in position to receive the ball, expecting her to simply return the ball back over the net, when the unexpected happened.

As she was reaching her position below the ball, she called "Kageyama!"

Kageyama, albeit startled, immediately reacted upon instinct and ran to spike. Once he was in the air awaiting the ball, Kanna tossed. She watched in satisfaction as the ball made contact with Kageyama's palm, and proceeded to land precisely where she knew the opposing team wouldn't be guarding with a resounding thud. A satisfied grin broke on her face as the whistle blew, calling their point and ending the match.

Kanna walked towards Kageyama and slapped his back as she complimented him with a, "Nice Spike Kageyama-kun!"

Her action seemingly broke whatever spell over came the group, as Koutarou ran to squeeze the two in his embrace, followed by the others on his tail. By some miracle Kanna managed to escape just in time to not be trapped by her giant of a cousin, Kageyama though, was not so fortunate.

Kanna's Team had won the first game with a 2:1. Her grin was as big as Koutarou's. She couldn't help but be consumed by the adrenaline of playing volleyball. Koutarou was right. She truly did love this sport, no matter how much she tried to say otherwise.

They take a 30 minute break after the game for Kanna's sake, as she isn't used to playing as rigorous as she used too. While she sat down catching her breath, the other gathered to discuss the game that just took place. Discuss was a pretense though, as they all looked too lost in a daze to even begin.

The Shinzen and Ubugawa boys looked at them with sympathy, for they felt it too even if they weren't actively playing with them.

"Damn Bokuto what's your cousin made of?" said Kuroo, breaking the silence as he wiped his face of sweat.

"With the way she played you wouldn't even think, much less believe that she hasn't played in years." Kageyama said, dumbfounded as he still couldn't believe what just happened.

"Are you absolutely sure about that?" asked Tsukishima as he turned directly at Akaashi. Akaashi's affirming nod did nothing to quell their anxieties and only made them groan in frustration.

"Did you see the way she handled that screw up?" Sawamura asked.

"Which one though?" Yaku inquired.

"I would have to agree with that one. She quite literally saved our asses on more than one occasion." Tsukishima surprisingly complimented.

"That toss she sent to Kageyama-san was perfect too." said Akaashi.

"Yeah, I still have goose bumps." Sugawara said, causing the others to absentmindedly nod their heads in agreement while the event replayed in their minds.

"So what do we do?" asked Sawamura.

Hearing the continuous compliments being dished by his peers towards his precious baby owl, Koutarou glowed with unabashed pride. His whole body was buzzing with barely contained excitement, satisfied that she was getting the recognition she so rightfully deserved. His eyes softened as he turned to Kanna happily chatting with the managers. She truly did glow when she played volleyball. He'd do everything in his power to keep that smile on her face, no matter what.

Notes:

The progress is slow, I know. I'm sorry. But I really wanted to showcase the characters, so I had no other choice. Just bear with me for a few chapters please.

[Previous Chapter | Next Chapter]

Chapter List

[eturni]

Day 29 - Glitter

We’re in the home stretch now! And Im determined to see this out. Day 29 of @drawlight​‘s advent calender prompt list https://drawlight.tumblr.com/post/188869931294/aziraphale-crowley-for-half-an-hour-youve-been and today is glitter. Which can naturally only be a 90′s gay Soho club night that sees Crowley stumbling his way into a nearby bookshop rather than bothering to go all the way home to Mayfair.

Aziraphale was just settling in with a glass of mulled wine and his second book of the night when there was a commotion at the door. Luckily it wasn’t anyone breaking in, as the doorbell chimed happily with the announcement that the lock had done absolutely nothing to deter the intruder.

It was almost midnight and, given that there was only one person who could possibly be bursting into his shop with such a racket, Aziraphale was rightly worried about what may be happening.

He quickly bookmarked his page and set the book aside before making his way out to see what was happening. “Crowley? Wha-”

The demon was looming in his doorway in a mesh shirt that strongly hinted at the skin beneath and leather pants far too tight to safely hold any sort of effort. There was a dusting of blue, green and pink glitter through the demon’s hair that caused glinting fractals better than any halo as the lights in the shop caught it.

He looked partly breathless and was grinning wide and terribly, obviously, drunk. “Angel! You ready for the countdown?”

“The countdown?” He echoed, brain still attempting to catch up to the sight in front of him.

“Yeah, angel, the countdown. Was out at JoJo’s and they were gonna- and I didn’t want the new year to start without you.”

Continue reading on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638803/chapters/52565221 or:

Crowley made his way over and Aziraphale could see the shimmering red eye liner and the silver across Crowley’s cheeks as well as the further covering of multi-coloured glitter that appeared to have been carelessly thrown over him at some point.

“My dear… I mean, Crowley-” Aziraphale cleared his throat self-consciously, looking away from the demon “it’s only the 29th. The new year doesn’t start for another couple of days. Aside from which you know it isn’t always a good idea to be here.”

Crowley’s frown of confusion slowly gave way to something much more guarded as Aziraphale progressed and the angel felt his stomach sour at the knowledge of the way his words could affect Crowley. He always tried so hard to keep his reactions hidden, poor as he was at it, and to see it so clear across his face…

“Where are your glasses?”

Crowley seemed to startle for a moment, looking down at his hands where his sunglasses suddenly were, though Aziraphale was certain they hadn’t been in the moment before. “What does it matter? Just you. You know what I am. Right though, should be off and going. Was in Soho, thought I could see you. Happy New Year, and all that, see you next time there’s a thwarting.”

“Wait, Crowley!” The words came before Aziraphale actually knew what he intended to follow them up with. Unfortunately Crowley stopped immediately, because of course he did, because he always did.

This was supposed to be the one time of the year that Aziraphale could offer up an honest truce, of the sort that Crowley had been working towards since the first moments of the garden, and he’d gone and shut Crowley down only because of his surprise at- what? Less flesh than he’d seen in several other periods of time? A little glitter that was no more offensive than what the chaps flooding from Old Compton street often had covering them.

It very suddenly didn’t feel a fair thing of him, for all that Crowley did attempting to keep the both of them safe whilst still always pushing at those boundaries Aziraphale set for fear. Of course, it was always in a demon’s nature to push at the edges of the rues, to tempt. Still, it was usually in the ways that made Aziraphale think with more compassion.

And, of course, Crowley was turned and looking at him with mouth a thin line that barely covered the hurt at the dismissal.

“I’m sure a drink or two wouldn’t hurt. I have a good bottle of rioja open. And you can tell me about this party where they’re already celebrating the new year.” He suggested. He didn’t apologise; angels don’t do wrong, per se after all, but it’s an olive branch.

“Mmm, suppose, if you’ve got one out.” Crowley nodded, evidently off kilter with the change.

“Wonderful, take a seat and I’ll be right back.” He declared; already feeling the odd tightness in his chest and stomach unwinding to something more manageable as he rushed off for the wine.

It gave him a few precious moments to gather his own thoughts. It obviously gave Crowley the same; as he was wearing the sunglasses once again when Aziraphale returned. He supposed it was only fair and tried not to be too disappointed with the turn of events as he passed over a half-full glass of wine and noticed the dusting of glitter that his fingers left on the stem.

It very abruptly brought his attention to the couch, and the gentle sparkles of colour that Crowley was leaving as he leaned and shifted and fidgeted along the fabric. It would be impossible to get out with anything short of a miracle; glitter always was.

Aziraphale pulled his gaze away and tried to not think too closely about how that semi-permanent mark in his space made him feel. “So, New Year’s Eve on the 29th?”

Crowley’s lips picked up in a smirk. “JoJo’s, Aziraphale. Any excuse for hedonism and a good party. Great place to got some decent temptations in, especially this time of year.”

“Well, yes, I suppose,” Aziraphale pursed his lips with the slightest sigh “but why a fake new years? They can do that on the night anyway and they hardly need a gimmick like that as an excuse for all of that excess.”

Crowley tilted his head with a single shoulder shrug before taking a gulp of his wine. “Some of ‘em have to be with family for the real thing don’t they? Can’t be dressed like themselves or kiss who they want when Big Ben actually goes off, can they? What would their good Christian families do then?” He asked in a sing-song mockery.

Aziraphale looked down into his own glass with a soft tut. “Yes, well, I suppose that’s quite right.” He had to concede after a moment.

It was, to not be able to be truly with the person you cared for because of your family’s opinions, a tale of tragedy that was almost as old as human stories. It was also always something that found the space between Aziraphale’s ribs and squeezed in an all-too-human way.

He startled a little when a glittering palm came into view and very carefully took hold of his chin, raising his head enough to meet Crowley’s eyes. They were still lined in red making the yellow-gold, and the fact that his glasses were once again missing, all the clearer.

“C’mon angel. They’ve got their communities when their families won’t have them. Got a lot of safe spaces around Soho that you wouldn’t always expect, far as I understand it.” He smiles a little and it causes Aziraphale to nervously wet his lips.

“Well, of course! There being nothing wrong with it at all. All the better that they’re rarely in here to actually buy anything. Yes, of course this would be a place for them, without all of the temptation of all night bars, of course.”

“Of course.” Crowley grinned in return, finally satisfied enough that he had the angel’s attention to finally let go of his chin.

Aziraphale tried desperately to ignore the phantom warmth that remains on his chin as Crowley pulled back. To ignore the suggestion of glitter that he knows it will have left imprinted in his stubble; soft rainbows of a community that pulled ever closer at times like this where family felt more like a noose than a comfort.

“You know, I may have been a little rash earlier. You are, of course, more than welcome here for the new year. The decorations don’t go away until twelfth night, after all.”

Crowley rolled his eyes and slumped back into the couch again with a grin that couldn’t be pressed down. “Do people even still do that any more? Twelfth night?”

“Well, whatever anyone else does, I do.” He huffed, straightening out his bow tie just to put a fine point on it.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be here. With bells on. Or just… not glow sticks.” Crowley smiled, warm and real and glittering in the soft light of the shop. “No one I’d rather ring it in with.”

[bapydemonprincess]

“You make my heart happy.” with Mey-rin and preferably Sebastian if you can do that again? That last story with them was so cute!! ^w^

Thank you!! Uh, I hope you don’t mind me doing something short, I’m not up to top form right now, but I did want to try writing, so I hope you don’t mind this! It also is another OT3 between Sebastian Mey and Grelle, hope that’s ok too. :3

They’d all gone out to a big winter ball, everyone of them dressed to the nines in the loveliest formal wear, and even when getting to the ball, Mey-rin and Sebastian had gotten to meet up with their lovely red reaper, who twirled around gloriously in a glistening red gown, trimmed with white fluff at the bottom, and her long hair magically up in a huge nest of a bun.

“What do you think, my little snow bunnies?” She’d asked the two, and of course Sebastian Michaelis, in a stunning dark pitch tuxedo and the darkest red vest she’d ever seen, gave the reaper a galliant bow and looked over her entire form with the sweep of his red eyes, instantly transfixed and glimmering. 

“Getting to see you here and in such a bright, glorious gown to fit this night is just the perfect surprise, rufina. How you even manage to get away to be with us is truly a Christmas Miracle.”

Of course this made their reaper turn red in the face, slapping her equally bright red gloved hands over her face and squealing a little.

“Oh stop, you will make me burst, Bassy! And we haven’t even started! Now, let me get a good full look at my Mey Mey..” Grelle purred as her eyes had locked onto the other woman, and she too a step closer to grasp Mey-rin’s hands.

Of course, in such a public event, the lady reaper knew she could only do so much before rising ire with the damnedable humans who didn’t truly understand love, but she did what she could to show her little human lover she was absolutely smitten with her as well and happy to be in her presence.

“Where did you get this gown, my dear? It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen on you!” She cried, squeezing Mey-rin’s smaller hands.

“Oh- well- I- N-Nina insisted she do the honors of fitting me one, yes.” Mey-rin mumbled out, a little overwhelmed of the attention she was suddenly getting, not only from Grelle but also having Sebastian’s firm big hand behind her and always pressed to her waist, like maybe the man was a little afraid to let her go.

Before Grelle could respond to this news, though, Sebastian spoke up. “Don’t worry, I was keeping an eye on them when I could. I believe Nina knew by now my intentions and knew her days of putting her hands where they did not belong were over.” He looked quite proud of this as well, for the butler who was also a demon was very selfish when it came to what he knew to be his. He stood proud next to Mey-rin, chest puffed a little bit, as if he’d won a grand prize and was the proudest man there to do so.

Grelle nodded firmly in approval too, coming in even closer to Mey-rin and quickly giving the girl’s rosie complexion a firm kiss on the cheek.

“Good!” She said simply, and then her seriousness was gone as she grinned again and pulled a little at the other girl. “Come on now, let’s go to properly blend in with all the others at th drinks table! Bassy likely has to get back to the brat for a while anyways!”

Indeed work still called for the butler, who deflated a little, but still nodded and smiled to his ladies. Especially giving Mey-rin a reassuring look to know that if anything should happen, he’d be there in a flash.

It had all gone pretty smoothly from there, as she and Grelle indeed got to bustle about, talking about this and that like some kind of horrid Christmas party going on in the reaper realm’s office and Grelle being very much glad she had somewhere else to be.

And Mey-rin just filled her in on the familiar shenanigans at the manor. Nothing much new, just their young master’s only family as always coming along and trying to cheer the poor gloomy boy up with presents. Especially his fiancee, whom he currently had to spend time with now.

And the evening went on, Mey-rin being lulled by the music slowing, watching out as all the couples danced, and occasionally glimpsing Sebastian across the way.. Seeing a similar longing in those red eyes of his, but.. different as well.

Grelle, too, stayed right by her the whole time, swaying back and forth, back an forth, as if to make up for not having a partner right now. And at one point, she threw caution to the wind a little and grabbed Mey-rin’s hand, simply to hold it while she kept bobbing back and forth.

Her look at Mey-rin said it all. She was happy just being here with her, even if nothing more happened tonight. And Mey-rin grew flush again, but tried her best to show she agreed by squeezing back.

At one point, though, something had changed, and Grelle suddenly let go of her hand. “Ah!” She gasped, staring out at something, but Mey-rin not being quite sure what..

“Grelle? What is it??” She asked, and reached out almost instinctively.

Grelle immediately turned back to her and grabbed her hand with both of her own this time, squeezing and staring into her face with such an EXCITED look that Mey-rin felt her anxiety start to kick up!!

“Come with me to a side balcony, love. There’s someone I know who has been dying to meet you!” Was all Grelle told her in explanation, and then YANKED Mey-rin forward, dragging her straight through all the dancing couples, and to two big glass balcony doors. 

Once she’d pushed the girl out into the dimly lit balcony, only the glow from inside making it easy to traverse, Grelle finally gave her little flustered maid a firm kiss, nearly dipping her into a bow right there!

“Whuh- what was that for??” Mey-rin gasped out, blinking and tryng to get her glasses to unfog.

“For good luck, Mey Mey! For good luck!!” The woman gushed, and smooched her again, but this time on the forehead.

And then she drew back, backpedaling and holding her hands up in caution before her. “Stay right here, sweetie! It’ll only be a moment!!”

And then Mey-rin was alone.

She could only stare, wobbling in place after. Her mind an absolute mess! Why was Grelle suddenly so excited for introducing Mey-rin to meet someone? Was this a family member of hers that still lived in this realm and Grelle had stayed in touch with somehow?? Were the two on such good terms that she’d entrusted this person with knowledge about her love life over here?! About Mey-rin?? Oh wow, this had Mey-rin panicking a little! Was she about to be JUDGED by someone who’d known Grelle Sutcliff before she’d become a reaper?! Before ANYONE had known her before now??

Oh no, someone was coming to the doors. TWO someones. One was Grelle again, thankfully, the other a smaller woman. She looked almost up to Mey-rin’s height, though, and equally just as intimidated as they’d stepped forward.

But she looked so.. lovely. Her skin soft and almost glowing in the dark, hair pitched black and curled up in a loose bun, and her long deep maroon gown sparkling, shimmering with tiny flecks of sorts.

“Here we are, loves.” Grelle murmured, sounding already so satisfied even if nothing had happened yet. “I wish we could be inside for this so you two could share a lovely dance, but perhaps the silent night is better for this.”

“Yes, erm, he-hello,” Mey-rin spoke up and held out her hand to cordially greet the other young lady, “My name is um, Mey-rin, yes it is! And it’s a pleasure to meet you you, Miss..?”

The woman had smiled further and further as Mey-rin spoke, and Mey-rin wasn’t sure if her lips were purely black or an even deeper red than her gown. Was she making a fool of herself again? Oh dear..

“Michaelis,” the lady purred out, and lifted a dainty pale hand to put it into Mey-rin’s, curling around it tight and squeezing. Her eyes stayed glued on Mey-rin’s, gradually getting redder and redder as well. “Sebastian Michaelis.”

And Mey-rin was about to faint.

“Se… Se… Se-Se-SEBASTIAN?!” She shrieked a little loudly, followed by Grelle on the side slapping her hands over her own mouth and practically bending over, her muffled laughter squeaking out between her fingers here and there.

Sebastian simply stepped in even closer, tutting softly at the girl for making such a racket, and tilted herself in to give Mey-rin a soft, brief kiss on the right cheek while the girl was still frozen in shock. She couldn’t help it! Mey-rin’s reaction was just too adorable to resist.

“Well, what do you think, dear? Am I… anything like what you imagined?” Sebastian hesitantly asked, for despite her bold move just then, she still couldn’t help feeling a bit timid at finally showing her human lover this side of her.

“You… yo-you are…” Mey-rin mumbled out, starting to tremble in place, her lips quivering and her chest rising and falling.. Grelle noticed this and took a step in closer, too. All silliness gone.. Had they miscalculated?!

But suddenly Mey-rin was closing the gap, lifting her arms and wrapping them around the other, curling in all the way, moving one hand to the back of Sebastian’s head and pulling that in too. She started to whimper as she did this, and nuzzled her head up against Sebastian’s.

“Oh Sebastian, you’re so PERFECT!” She sobbed out, shutting her eyes tight. “This makes me so, so happy, yes it does!! Getting to see you like this! Getting to hold you!! Just.. just… having you in my life..” She felt tears streaking down her face and likely beginning to drip onto her love’s shoulder and back, but she couldn’t hold back now. “Y-You make my heart so happy, yes you do! You, a-and Grelle, and just bein’ here!!”

Grelle had not expected this turn of events, and didn’t expect to find herself tearing up now as well. “Oh goodness, Mey, what brought this about?!” She choked out, and yet didn’t wait for an answer. She just had to swoop in and join the two smaller ladies, wrapping her longer arms around both and squeezing too.

And Sebastian Michaelis, who was now a little bit crushed between both of her ladies, simply began purring against her will as she shut her eyes and beamed to herself.

This night in all it’s entirety had truly become a wonderful gift.

[queenofbaws]

Omg from the “right to the good part” prompt list, can you do #3 “I just told you I liked you but now I’m shy and say “never mind, forget it” and why are you looking at me like that?” for Chrashley? You write Ashley and Chris so well and this prompt is perfect for them! Please and thank you 😊

((Look. LOOK. I know the premise with these is “Drop me immediately into that good part, babyyy” but when have I EVER gotten right to the point??????? Have I mentioned lately that Chris and Ash are my #1 ship from UD? Have I mentioned how much time I spend thinking about these nervous nerds and their emotions?? ANYWAY, HERE WE GO. Send me a prompt and I’ll get right to the good parts…))

“This movie is an absolute travesty to the art of cinema.”

“Dude, can you go maybetwenty minutes without saying something pretentious about ‘the art of cinema?’”

“It’s my lodge, Iget to say whatever I want.”

“I’d appreciate it if you’d both zip your lips so I could actually watch this.”

The three of them had made themselves quite at home on thehuge, cushy sectional in the great room, Josh laying sprawled out across anentire side, Chris reclining on the other with his feet kicked up onto thecoffee table, Ashley nestled into the juncture between them. None of them hadever seen the movie before, and that was proving to be something of a blessing,because it truly was garbage of thehighest degree. In the hour or so they’d been watching it, Josh had pointed outat least five times where the actorsappeared to be reading their lines just off-screen. So sure, it was a train wreck…but it was a train wreck they werestuck with.

Getting the tv to work at all had been a miracle in and of itself. Whoever had wiredBlackwood Pines Resort had likely been a moron, a sadist, or an unholycombination therein—there was no rhyme or reason to what worked or what didn’t.The lights? Nada. The heater? Nothing. The landline? Sure! The tv? Oh def, def,def.

The weekend was shaping up to be…interesting. Realinteresting. Already the night had been bizarre,packed with more bullshit than you could shake a stick at, so it really wasn’tany wonder that none of them quite had the gumption to try and futz with gettingthe other channels to work. Somewhere between the day of bus rides and theséance-gone-wrong, whatever fight they’d had in them had been lost.

“I’m starting to think Sam had the right idea,” Ashleysighed, buried up to her chin in a thick afghan. “Hot bath then bed. Ideal.”

“You could go to bed, Ash,” Chris pointed out. “Stairs’reright there. No one’s stopping you.”

She heaved another long sigh, somehow managing to burroweven deeper into the blanket. “That would involve getting off the couch,though.”

“If you asked nice enough, maybe Cochise’d carry you.” Fromthe other side of the couch, Josh slyly slid his eyes to Chris, cocking aneyebrow. “You can’t weigh more than what, like fifty pounds? I mean, it mightbe close, but I’m sure he could do it.”

Making sure it was positioned in such a way that Ashleycouldn’t see, Chris covertly flipped him the bird, pointedly keeping his gazein the direction of the tv.

A grunt, a groan, a dip of the cushions, and Josh heavedhimself up off the couch, gracelessly hopping over the back of it. “Yeah, well,on that note, I’m gonna turn in. Bit of a chaotic start to the whole shindig,huh?”

Ashley managed to untangle one of her hands from her cocoon,sticking it up and cutting savage air-quotes into the air.

“Hmm? What part seemed chaotic to you?” Chris turned aroundto face Josh, favoring him with an inquisitive look over the frames of hisglasses. “The catfight? The macho posturing? The Ouija board thing? Or like,just the general air of cafeteria politics we’re having to deal with?”

“To be totally honest with you, man, mostly I meant the whole ‘being chased through the basement by anasshole in a costume’ thing.”

At that, Chris shrugged. “Everyone���s a critic.”

“Not so fun when you’rethe one getting spooked, is it?” She asked it innocently enough, but therewas a self-satisfied little glint in Ashley’s eyes when she glanced over tohim. “Who woulda guessed that?”

“Right? Totallyweird!” Josh snickered before leaning down, his upper body looming between thetwo of them. “So, uh, we’re all buds here…”

“Besties,” Chris answered, not missing a beat.

“Something likethat,” Ashley joked, missing an entire measure.

Lowering his voice into a conspiratorial mutter only just audible over the movie, Josh cranedhimself even farther over the back of the couch, the corners of his mouthhooking into a mischievous shape. “So between us buds, then…what, uh…what’re wethinking my chances with Sam are, here?”

Chris and Ashley exchanged a long-suffering look, Ash goingso far as to roll her eyes and shake her head.

“Something you wanna share with the class, Miss Brown?”

She angled herself on the couch so she could look him squarein the eye, all the while still shaking her head. “I mean, you can try, but Sam’s kinda got…oh, what’s theword…standards.”

“Oh wow. Didn’t realize you were such a cheerleader for mycause. I’ll have you know we had a moment earlier.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. She said she’s herefor me.”

“Isn’t that why we’re allhere, though? I mean, by that logic, you’ve probably got a pretty decent chancewith Mike.”

“God, I hope so. Mike’s dreamy.” Josh pushed himself up fromhis lean, taking a moment to none-too-gently tweak Ashley’s ear through herbeanie. “Mk, you know what? I don’t need this negativity in my life.” He startedfor the staircase, turning to add over his shoulder, “Hey, make sure thelovebirds lock the door behind ‘em when they get back. Last thing we need isanother wolverine getting in. Cochise might literally piss himself.”

On the couch, Chris bristled. “Y’know, I’m sooo glad that me almost getting tornapart by a wild animal is so amusing to you assholes. I’m totally psyched it’smade your weekend.”

Josh snorted a loud laugh before disappearing up the stairs,leaving them to their own devices in the great room.

“It’s not funny,”Chris muttered as he sank back into a slouch. “It could’ve had frickin’ rabiesor some shit!”

“…it was kind offunny.”

He turned to her, brow furrowed in obvious betrayal. “Icould’ve died, Ash!”

“Oh come on, it was a baby—”

“Baby wolverines are still wolverines! I-I-I could’ve been gutted!”

“Uh huh.”

“It coulda taken my head clean off! You ever seen the claws on those things?! Could cut rightthrough steel! I think I saw that on Nat Geo once.”

She watched him for a moment, face scrunched up as thoughshe suspected she hadn’t heard him right. “Are…are you mixing up the animalwith the X-Men character?”

“He got the name for a reason.”

“Oh my God. I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that.” Ashleylaughed even as she turned back to the tv, pulling her legs up onto the couch.“Love how we get stuck like, waitingup for Matt and Emily.”

“Hey, it just means that we’re the responsible ones.”

“There’s ahorrifying thought.”

“Tell me about it. But shit, they have been out there for a long-ass time.” Chris got up andapproached one of the massive windows, prying the blinds apart with hisfingers, actually seeming a little surprised when he didn’t simply find Matt and Emily standing outside.“Think something ate them?”

“Don’t even joke about that!”

“What? Bears gotta eat too…”

“Chris!”

He held his hands up defensively, grinning and ploppinghimself back down on the couch—maybe just a bitcloser to Ashley than he had originally been. “No, no…you’re right. I’m sorry.I shouldn’t’ve said that. It was mean, it was cruel, and it definitely wasn’t funny.” He paused for effect,grabbing his phone off the coffee table and pretending to scroll throughsomething. “Really shitty thing to say. No bear deserves to choke Emily down.”

At that, Ashley dropped her head into her hands. It was meant to make it seem like she wasdisappointed, tired, exasperated…butthere was no hiding the way her shoulders shook with quiet laughter.

Chris high-fived himself in his head. “Imagine how bitter she’d be.”

“Chris—”

“How…salty? Eh? Ehhh??” When he realized she was peekingat him through the spaces of her fingers, he made a point to waggle hiseyebrows.

She reached over to shove him, still trying very hard to notappear as amused as she actually was, lest she encourage his behavior. “Don’tbe mean.”

“Honestly, I’m insulted. Trust me, when I’m being mean, you will know it. All this? Just the facts. Cold, hard facts.” He chuckled,setting his phone down and grabbing his beer before settling into the cushionsagain. He took a drink, stretching his free arm across the back of the couch.Not that it was intentional—not that it mattered—butstretched as he was, the tips of his fingers only barely rested behind Ashley’sshoulder.

If she noticed, she didn’t show any outward signs; sheblinked sleepily towards the tv and pulled the blanket more tightly aroundherself, sighing as she watched the generic protagonist say something suitablydramatic directly into the camera. “They probably got distracted.” She said itafter such a long pause that it took Chris a second to remember who they’d beentalking about in the first place. “I mean, with the snow and the stars and allthat…they probably ended up…I dunno…”

“Making out in a snow bank?”

Ashley laughed, shrugging weakly. “Could be.”

“Does Emily reallystrike you as the kinda person who finds nature romantic, Ash? Coldnature? Cold nature full of hungry, hungry bears?”

“Could you pleasestop saying ‘cold?’” Shooting him a withering glare, she made a point to melodramaticallyshiver and curl further into herself. One of her hands poked out just longenough to rub some warmth into the tip of her nose. “Kinda hard to ignore itwhen you keep yammering about it…man, luxury resort with no working heat…” Hereyes flit back down to the fireplace and the flames crackling in the grate. “Iwant my money back. Gonna leave the worstYelp review.”

“We’ll get it fixed up tomorrow, once we’re not so tired andpissy.”

“We?”

“Well. Josh. Joshwill get it fixed up. He got the hot water up and running, didn’t he?”

Ashley snorted, “Yeah. For Sam.”

“And by tomorrow, I’m sure her buns will be just as frozen as the rest of ours, so I don’t seea problem.” He followed her line of sight, taking a slow sip of his beer whilelooking into the fire. Unbeknownst to Ashley, his mind was hardly on the cold,or the movie, or Sam, or hell, any of the others wandering Blackwood Pines.Much to his chagrin, there was really only one thing Chris could think about in that moment—the aside he’d had with Joshearlier that night. It played back in his head like a bad recording, some ofJosh’s more, uh, colorful turns ofphrase floating unpleasantly to the top (‘bonezone,’ for one…‘dripping with eroticpossibilities,’ for another). Eugh. Those he shoved away. Far away. But when he glanced from thefireplace, the bright flames tattooing his retinas, the moral of the(admittedly shitty) pep talk remained.

With everyone else in bed or exploring the grounds, he andAshley were, for all intents and purposes, alone. Together.

Josh’s very abrupt disappearance from the couch suddenlymade too much sense. Chris bit back a groan, resisting the urge to actuallysmack his forehead. Of course. Of course.That scheming little fuck.

Chancing a look in Ashley’s direction, he drummed hisfingers anxiously against his bottle. Maybe it was the chilly moonlightfiltering through the blinds. Maybe it was the ambient crack-and-fizzle of thefire. Maybe it was the dim, unimportant drone of the movie. Maybe it was thepower of suggestion. Maybe it was some other vaguely poetic piece of bullshit. Forall it mattered, maybe it was goddamn Maybelline, but all at once he was seized by an impulse to act. To move. To do…something. Andafter a day of travel (not to mention unending social discomfort), he found hisinhibitions had been drained to the dregs. “Oh shit, hang on—you’re over theretalking about being cold and I’m sitting here like some kinda dick…”

She looked up in time to see him fumbling with his sweatshirt.It took a moment for her to realize what he was doing, but when she did, Ashleyfelt her face light up with the telltale tingle of an oncoming flush. “Oh, it’sno big! Really, I can go upstairs and grab my pjs from my bag and layer—”

“Uh huh. And risk walking in on Sam and Josh having anuncomfortably emotional heart-to-heart about the twins? Please.” Chris wriggledhimself out of the sweatshirt, holding it out to her. “C’mon, I’ll neverforgive myself if your scrawny butt freezes to death out here.”

For a second—and that’s really all it was, a second—it hung between them, a tangibletotem of something else entirely. It was apparent in the way the air in theroom changed that both of them recognized the gesture was somehow larger thanitself. The tv continued to drone on in the background.

“You’ll be cold,”Ashley insisted, even though one of her hands had already moved to take it. Shedidn’t actually grab it, not just yet…and yet there didn’t seem to be anyquestion that she would.

“Nah, I run pretty warm.”

She seemed to consider it. “…are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Positive?”

“Ash, I’m literally wearing two other shirts, I promise youI’m gonna survive this one.”

Her eyes flit from his hand to his eyes and then back again,almost too quickly to be noticed. Then,shrugging as if to say ‘whatever,’ Ashley took it from him, shimmying her wayout of the blanket so she could pull it on. Never before had she been sothankful for the dark as she was in that instant, feeling her cheeks and earsburning as she zipped herself into the still-warm sweatshirt. “Don’t complainto me when you freeze…” She’d wanted it to come out in a joking singsong. Itdidn’t. Her throat, it seemed, had other ideas, suddenly going tight and makingher voice sound small and strained.

“Yeah, you know, now that you mention it, I think I canalready feel hypothermia setting in.” Chris busied himself with his beer,pointedly avoiding looking right at her. Even over her hoodie, the sweatshirt wasadorably large on Ashley, and to be quite frank, there was something aboutseeing her wearing it that proved immenselydifficult to refrain from reacting to.

Had Matt and Emily chosen that precise moment to make theirgrand (re)entry, they would’ve found themselves walking into a real-life exampleof social anxiety in action.

There was something nearly comical in the way they just keptstaring straight ahead at the tv, perfectly silent, perfectly still. It waslike the same thought had struck them at the same instant, flashing acrosstheir eyes in the same bright, blinking capitals: DON’T MOVE!

Ashley was the first to drop her eyes, looking down at thebulky sleeves covering all but the very tips of her fingers. Chris wasn’t the only one who’d received an unspeakablyuncomfortable pep talk outside the lodge. Nope. No sir, no ma’am, he was not. And sure, maybe she was thesuspicious sort, but she was quickly coming to wonder whether Sam’s vehement insistence of taking a bath(upstairs) and then immediately going to bed (upstairs) was less a personal choiceand more a ploy—a ploy to leave herand Chris alone. Together. She pulled her lower lip into her mouth, chewing atit while debating with the nasty little voice in the back of her head. Slowly,she glanced up from her hands, looking just long enough to get a glimpse of themovie reflecting in Chris’s glasses.

She could do this. She could absolutely do this. Right? Right. Right?! Sam certainly thought she could, and if Sam had faith in her, then by God, she could dig deep to find somesort of belief in herself, too.

Real deep.

Like…real, realdeep.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Ashley unraveledherself from her makeshift nest, scooting closer to him as casually as she wasable to. “It’s like ten friggin’ degrees in here,” she said, sure to put on herbest lecturing voice, “Here, take this and just…”

“What?”

“Just…ugh, quit moving!” With very little help on Chris’send, she somehow managed to drape the blanket around both of them. “See?Better.”

Chris let out an incredulous laugh, hoping it didn’t soundhalf as nervous as the butterflies in his gut were making him feel. “How isthis better? The whole point was for you to get warmer—”

“Yeah, but now I have twosweatshirts, so…”

It was at that moment that they realized just how big theblanket was. Or rather, how big they’d thoughtit had been. Ashley had been able towrap it around herself with room to spare, sure, but with two people under it…it became apparent they were going to need toget, uh, creative to both fit. Or atleast ‘creative’ was the word Ashley found herself repeating over and overagain in her head to justify sitting right up against Chris’s side.

It was the only way for them to both fit! That was all. Thatwas all. It wasn’t like she was tucking herself against him—nonono, justsitting. Just…sitting particularly close together. But…but friends could sitclose together! Friends sat close together all the time!

Under the same blanket, even!

Alone!

Hardly ten seconds passed between them like that before shespoke up again. “This movie is horrible,”she said, knowing full well she’d said it waytoo loud. Maybe if she talked about it enough, he wouldn’t notice how close shewas.

“Sure is.” Chris’s reply came just as quickly, just as loudly, trying to distract from the factthat they were now sitting in such a way that his arm was definitely almost around her. Impossible as it seemed, he hadn’teven really realized how close Ashley was sitting to him at that moment, so completely and wholly absorbed by the idea that he could move his hand from theback of the couch and—

“Why are we even still watching it?”

“It’s the only channel.”

“No, I get that.It was like, hypothetical.”

“Oh. Right.” He cleared his throat before taking anotherlong drink, trying not to audibly sputter as one of the more impassioned partsof Josh’s earlier speech came back to him (‘Yougotta go in FOR THE KILL!’). Okay. No more liquids. Chris set the bottledown on the coffee table and grabbed the remote, turning the volume down acouple notches so the blather wouldn’t be asobvious. “We could, uh…do something else while we wait?”

Ashley turned, remembered how very, very close they were, and promptly looked to the fire instead. “Somethingelse? Like…?”

“Like, um…” Chris tried not to grimace, still trying exceptionally hard to shake Josh’s voiceloose from whichever fold of his brain it was stuck in. “Uh…oh, wait, no, okay,I got it. Knock knock.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felthimself cringe. Hell, he felt Joshcringe from wherever the fuck he was upstairs. Go in for the kill. Yeah. Right.

Even Ashley paused at that, the tension momentarily leavingher body. That time it was much easier to stare up at him, eyes narrowed andforehead crinkled. “Seriously? Knock knock jokes? Are we six?”

“Um, I said, knockknock.”

She eyed him warily. “Who’s there?”

“Turnip.”

“Turnip who?”

Chris finally steeled himself enough to turn to her,grinning widely. “Turnip the volume, I can’t hear the movie.”

Whatever anxiety she’d been dealing with flew out the windowinto the icy landscape beyond. All at once, it didn’t matter how close theywere, or that they were alone, or that his arm was aro—okay, she didn’t havethe resources to process that justyet, not when she had to devote all of her mental faculties to defendingherself against the onslaught of dad jokes. “…I can’t put into words how much Ihate this.”

Oh yeah, it was much easierto deflect like that. Time to dial the bullshit up to eleven. He cocked aneyebrow in an attempt to appear slick, “Knock knock.”

“Are you—ugh. Fine.” She knew better than to fight thecheese. There was no fighting thecheese. Groaning, she sank further into the cushions; she wouldn’t say themovement qualified as tucking herself against Chris’s side, but she wouldn’tsay it didn’t qualify, either. “Who’sthere?”

“Aida.”

Oh God. “Aida who?”

“Aida sandwich for lunch earlier today. Knock knock.”

“No!”

“Knock knock, Ash.”

“You can knock all you want, I’m not answering. I lookedthrough the peephole and didn’t like what I saw.”

“Knock knock.”

She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and its strangehanging sculpture. It took everything in her to keep from laughing. “…who’sthere?”

“Distracted owl.”

“…distracted owl who?” Ashley stared helplessly up at thesculpture, bracing herself mentally for whatever stupid punch line he wasworking towards…and then paused when none came. Shooting an expectant glancehis way only to see him staring at the tv screen again, Ashley frowned.“Chris,” she sighed, raising her eyebrows expectantly. Still no answer. Sheclucked her tongue, “Chris!”

“Hoo?” He lookedback down to her, blinking innocently.

It took a second for it to register, but when it did, the expression on her face wasworth money. “You’re the worst. Youare absolutely the worst. I—no, youknow what?” The blanket rustled around them as she threw her hands up to eitherside of her face. “Knock knock.”

“Ohoho! How the tables have turned! Who’s there?” The dopeygrin he’d had to force earlier was quickly becoming genuine. He hunched himselfforward a bit, making a big show of giving her his full attention.

“Thermos.”

“Thermos who?”

“Thermos be a millionbetter ways for us to pass the time than this.”

“Oooh, good one!”

“No! Incorrect response!”

“Look, I don’t know what your problem is…I think this is pretty fun. Better thanthe movie, at least.”

“Speak for yourself.”

Pressing his free hand to his chest, Chris pantomimed deepinsult. “Wow! Harsh! Okay, okay, ifknock knocks aren’t your style, then how about, uh…hmm…” He hemmed and hawedfor a second, both completely awarethat it was a sham. If there was one thing—one singular thing—that Chris Hartley excelled at, it was producinghorrible joke after horrible joke without having to come up for air. “Okay,okay, you’ll love this one. What did the chip say to the other chip?”

Her body sagged against his, and she dropped her head intoher hands. “This is absolute torture.”

“No, it said,‘Let’s go for a dip!’” He guffawed at her reaction, poking the back of her shoulderteasingly. “Get it? Dip? Because they’re chips? And you put chips into d—”

“If there is a God, please take me now.”

“I think you’re being a little dramatic. Here, how aboutthis…what did…the teddy bear say when the waiter brought the dessert menu?”

Ashley didn’t respond—she just lifted her head from herhands, staring unblinkingly up at him.

“No thanks, I’m stuffed!”

There was a beat where the only sound between them was thewhisper-soft babble of the tv. Then, twisting her mouth into an exasperated winceof a smile, “What did Ashley say to Chris?”

“Oh man, uh…I don’t know. What did Ashley say to Chris?”

“Stop. Just stop. Please. Stop.” Before he could sayanything else, she stuck her hands up into his face, palms pressed together asthough in prayer. “Remember that vow of silence I mentioned earlier? That wouldbe…so ideal, Chris.”

He narrowed his eyes with a contemplative hum, bobbling hishead side-to-side. “Hmm…not really your bestmaterial, definitely not bringing your A-game, but it’s been a long day, soI’ll let it slide.” When she groaned, he poked her again, getting the spotright between her shoulders and making her squirm. “Don’t take it personally.Comedy isn’t for everyone.”

“Yeah, clearly!” Shenudged his ribs with her elbow, trying to wiggle herself away from his poking.It quickly (and unsurprisingly) devolved into a shove-fight of childishproportions, neither wanting to move enough to risk sending the blanket slidingoff the back of the couch. They only stopped when Ashley’s phone clatterednoisily to the floor, knocked from where it’d been nestled between thecushions. She pretended to roll her eyes in disgust, folding her arms acrossher chest, “So immature…”

“I know you are, but what am I?”

“Ugh.”

As soon as their laughter tapered off, the old anxietyproblem reared its head again. Cold air was usually clear air, crisp and thin and brittle, but between them it hadgrown thick and heavy with anticipation. Each second that passed without themtalking only made it worse; it was like they were two shaky lapdogs waiting fora clap of thunder. And shit, that would never do…not when they’d already comeso far (…and not when they both still had Josh and Sam’s voices ringing intheir heads).

It was stupid—so fuckingstupid—but Chris could feel his heart lurch up towards the base of his throatas he made his decision. “So, uh…” Again, he cleared his throat, “What did theocean say to the beach?”

Ashley sighed loudly through her nose. Her tone was flatwith resignation. “I don’t know. What didthe ocean say to the beach?”

“Nothing. It just…waved.”

“Oh come on.”

“What did the traffic light say to the car?”

She released a quiet breath that might’ve been a laugh. “What?”

“Don’t look at me, I’m changing over here.”

“This is so bad.”

“What did…” he took a deep breath to steady himself, tryingto play it out in his head. “…the nerd say to his crush?”

Unlike with his other quote-unquote jokes, the pun was notimmediately apparent to her. What that usuallymeant was it was gonna be bad. Just…real bad. Ashley sighed again, bracingherself for what she was sure was about to be a real doozy of a flop. “Um…Idon’t know. What did he say?”

She was right on oneaccount, at least. It was gonna be ahell of a doozy.

There sure as hell wasn’t any going back now—he’d already said it, put it outinto the universe, and even if he’d wantedto backtrack, Josh was the improvguy, not him. So he swallowed hardenough to worry she’d be able to hear his cartoonish gulp, squared his shoulders, and uh…went for the kill. “Can I kissyou?”

Ashley’s head cocked to the side slowly, brow knit, mouthtwisted uncertainly. She stared into middle space as she wracked her brain,desperately trying to figure out what was supposed to be so funny about that. The more she thought on it, theless sense it made; when she accepted that she had no idea what she was missing, her shoulders rose and fell in aloose shrug. “I don’t get it. How’s that a jo—” There was a sudden misfiring inher brain when she looked up to him, expecting a doofy grin but instead findingan uncharacteristically serious, almost apprehensive expression on Chris’sface. And…oh. Oh. Realization widenedher eyes and numbed her tongue, leaving her to just sort of gawp.

Not exactly theresponse he had been hoping for, honestly. Chris sucked a tense breath throughhis teeth, immediately averting his eyes and shaking his head, all at once aball of frantic energy. “Yeah, I just—not funny, right? Yeah, yeah, uh. Just go ahead and forget Ieven—”

“I, uh…” She tried to say something, anything, but none of the muscles of her face seemed to want towork the right way. How had she ever been cold?!In that moment, Ashley wouldn’t have been terribly surprised if shespontaneously combusted on the spot, leaving nothing more than a smear of sootin her place there on the sectional, only inches from where Chris was attemptingto untangle himself from the afghan.

“It’s been a longnight,” he continued to babble, hands noticeably shaking as he pulled the blanketoff of him. “And I’m obviously tired,so let’s just pretend I didn’t say anything,and uh—”

Though she didn’t know how,Ashley managed to get ahold of some deeper part of herself, ignoring the racingof her heart long enough to force out a stunned, “Chris.”

He winced. “Uh huh?”

In her lap, her hands had balled up into tight fists aroundthe fabric of his borrowed sweatshirt. The words were there, just out of reach, choking her at the very back of hertongue. Ashley jawed at the air for a second before regaining the use of hervoice. “Yeah.”

“…yeah…?” Somehow, he able to stretch the word intofour-syllable territory.

She took a deep, deepbreath, tentatively nodding her head. “Y-yeah. Yeah, you can…” Hoo boy. Sam believed in her, she reminded herself.Sam Giddings believed she could dothis. “…you can kiss me.” It came out in a rush of breath, not entirely unlikea sigh of relief, and knowing full well she’d never, ever, in all of her life,be able to wrangle up that much courage again, she made herself look back up toChris. “…you should kiss me,actually…”

Also not exactlythe response he’d been expecting. Chris froze, scanning her face for a signthat she was pulling his leg or cracking a joke of her own. There were no signsto be found. “I—are y—wait, I—yeah?”

Smooth. Smooth as creamy peanut butter, baby.

Her nodding became more decisive, if not jerkier. “Yeah.”

“I—um, okay?”

“Okay.”

There was a terrible, horrible, positively unbearable instant where neither of themcould quite figure out what to do with themselves…but it passed as quickly asit came. They were already so close that it was nothing to close the space between them, their lips meeting in akiss so soft, so tentative, that it threatened to melt away like spun sugar. Itonly lasted for a second (albeit a long one)before they pulled back, startling as though reacting to a crack of staticelectricity.

That wasn’t to say that they moved away from each other—ohnonono. Au contraire, now that theywere that close, it seemed unlikely they’d ever be able to fully pull awayagain. The closing credits of the movie scrolled up the television screen whilean off-tune cover of a pop song played, absolutely unnoticeable over the soundof the blood racing in their ears, the uncertain intake of breath.

Ashley found herself inexplicably worried that she was goingto smudge Chris’s glasses. Foreheads together, they were just so close; she could feel the shape of hisarm, still stiffly stretched across the back of the couch, could feel the weightof her own hands pressing hard against her knees, and all at once realized thegravity of what had happened. The plunge had been taken. That was it. That was it. It was out in the open, notakesies-backsies, meaning…well, meaning there wasn’t really any point in fretting about it now.

In one fluid movement, she brought her hands up to eitherside of his face, the fabric of the sweatshirt scratchy against his cheeks. Hereyes fluttered closed as she pulled Chris into a kiss significantly more spirited than the first. And in a twist thatsurprised no one more than himself, Chris barely missed a beat, bringing hisarm around her to pull her closer.

That was when the front door slammed.

“Ughhh next timewe decide we have to just get awayfor a weekend, remind me that ski resorts are nothing like what you see on Instagram.”

“Uh huh.”

“Even my eyelashesare frozen, I swear to God.”

The front hall filled with the sound of snow being stompedoff of boots, providing the perfect cue for them to spring apart. It was hardlya moment later that Emily stormed into the great room, mouth and posture tightwith displeasure; a visibly deflated Matt followed after her, eyebrows drawnimpossibly high in a long-suffering expression.

Chris cleared his throat, flicking them a brief two-fingeredsalute from the couch. “You guys find the, uh…” Aw shit. There was no way he was going to be able to pickthrough the mad buzzing in his head to remember what they’d ventured out intothe snow for. He shot Ash a look, only to find her covertly pantomiming…something. He squinted to try and makesense of it before everything clicked into place, “The bag?”

In lieu of actually answering, Matt held the offending itemup into the air. One little pink bag from Rodeo: Check. He didn’t seemparticularly relieved by their success.

“Where’d everyone else go?” Emily asked, glancing around thegreat room as though expecting Sam and Josh were waiting to leap out and scarethem. “I—wait a sec. Is the heat stillnot working?”

“Uh…”

“This is typical. So typical.”She threw her hands out to her sides, letting them drop with an exhaustedpetulance. “You know what? I don’t even care. I’m going to bed. I’m not giving tonight another opportunity to fuckme over.”

Ashley turned towards them in time to see Emily starting upthe stairs. She tried to make her grimace look more like a smile when she metMatt’s eyes, lifting her shoulders in an awkward shrug, “Um…Josh said he leftthe door open to your room so you’d be able to find it. It’s the one with theblue bedspread, I think.”

“Cool.” Matt sighed, looking towards the veritable mountainof suitcases Emily had brought along with her. He seemed to contemplate loadinghimself up with them…and then clearly decided against it, shaking his head andmumbling something under his breath. “You guys have a good night,” he addedover his shoulder, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up with Emily.

“You too,” they muttered, more or less in unison. Only oncethe sound of a door closing echoed down from the third floor did they moveagain, turning away from the staircase.

“Well…” It really wasn’t a shock that Chris was the one tobreak the silence, but there was a distinct lack of tension in his voice thatcertainly came as a surprise. “I guess that answers the bear question, huh?”

She made the executive decision to finally turn off the tv, setting the remote down on the coffeetable with more force than was entirely necessary. “Guess so.”

“She’s gonna be realmad when she realizes Josh put them in the antler room. Maybe if we stay super quiet, we’ll be able to hear heryell.”

“Every room inthis place is an antler room.” To prove her point, Ashley pointed vaguelyaround the lodge.

“…a good point. What do you think Mr. Washington told theinterior designer? ‘Hey, I’ve always had this dream to—now, follow me on thisone—live inside a LongHorn Steakhouse. Can you help me with that?’”

“I mean, I’m sure it wouldn’t be the weirdest request they’d ever gotten.”

“Yeah, probably not.”

For what felt like the millionth time that night, Ashleylooked down to her hands, the corners of her mouth doing a strange little danceto fight against the sheepish grin she could feel taking shape. She pretendedto be particularly interested in the ribbed fabric of the sweatshirt’s sleeves.“Sooo…yooou…have a crush on me?”

Was it possible for a human being to physically feel their soul try and claw its way outof their body? Anyone staring at Chris in that moment would’ve been tempted tosay yes. His head lolled back onto his shoulders, posture going lax, “Jesus.Christ. Ash.”

“I’m just asking…”

“I think that shit’s been like…pretty openly established atthis point, don’t you?! I mean, I-I-I think I made it pretty clear—”

She snorted, shaking her head and dropping it into herhands, fingers curling around the band of her beanie. “Oooh man oh man ohman…this is…oh, this is…a lot.” Heavinga sigh, she propped her chin up on her hands, elbows poking into her knees. “Aaalot.”

“You know, you really don’t have to say it like that.”

There was a dull noise as she swung one of her legs to theside, knocking her foot against his. “Whaddya mean, don’t say it like that? You don’t even know what I’m saying, doofus.” Ashley rolled her eyes,tucking her hair behind her ears to give her fingers something to do. “For yourinformation…I’ve, uh…kinda got one onyou, too.”

Considering what had just happened, it probably shouldn’thave registered as a shock. But then again, when had logic ever factored into their relationship? “Wait. Waitwaitwaitwaitwait.What? S-since when?”

She shot Chris a disbelieving sidelong glance. “Since prettymuch ever.”

“…nuh-uh.”

“Yeah-huh.”

The cogs in his head whirred, trying and failing to connectthe dots she had so kindly presented to him. If nothing else, at least Josh’sinsistence made a little more sense, but…shit. “Then…why haven’t we—”

“I don’t know! I don’t know.” Ashley let her arms drop todangle between her knees defeatedly, “We’re always just…talking around it. So Ifigured…well, I don’t know what Ifigured, really. It seems real dumb now, doesn’t it?” Her feet turned inwardstowards each other as she looked down at them. “Real dumb. Like…like there’s all this time we wasted, being scared,when—”

“It wasn’t…don’t…it wasn’t wasted, Ash.” Suddenly aware of the heat of her gaze, Chris pickedup his neglected beer and shrugged, staring down into the bottle as he tried tosort out what he wanted to say. “Cuz like…” Oh it didn’t even sound good in hishead. There was no way it was goingto work out loud. Then again…the jokehad kinda worked, hadn’t it?

Fuck it. In for the kill.

“Every second I get to spend with you is just…the only thingI want to do with my time. So. Not a waste.” He shrugged again, trying to takea drink; he prayed to every power above that she couldn’t see the bottle wasactually very empty. She didn’trespond, but he could still feel her watching him, making his face burn hotterand hotter until he was fairly positive he was glowing in the dark. “We shouldmake sure the doors are locked now that they’re back,” he muttered, standingabruptly from the couch. “Josh’ll freak.”

Ashley’s eyes followed him as he stood, her cheeks achingfrom how hard she was beaming. “Uh huh.” She got up as well, absently rollingthe sweatshirt’s sleeves up to her wrists as she collected herself.

“I can get the front door if you get the side one Mike andJess used.”

“Mhm. You should probably double-check that window youclimbed through earlier, too.”

“…oh shit. I wouldn’t’ve even thought of that. Good idea.”

“I’m full of ‘em.”

Splitting up made the job quicker, sure, but it offered another sort of benefit on top of that: Thesecond they were separated by a wall or two, both Ashley and Chris had theirown private (silent) freakouts. Itwas a good thing the lodge was so dark—and an even better thing that everyone else had already locked themselves awayinto the rooms upstairs. Had any ofthe others caught sight of Chris’s mad gesturing or Ashley’s little dance,well, they’d never hear the end of it.

“All clear,” Ashley said, pulling herself together in recordtime. “No more wolverines getting in.”

“Well thank God for that. This place has way too manydoors.” Chris nodded his head towards the stairs, “Think we should hit the hay?It’s been a—”

“Long day, yeah,” she finished for him. “I think sleepsounds perfect.”

“Tell me about i—oh, hey, okay.” He couldn’t help but grinwhen she sandwiched one of his hand between both of hers, cozying up againsthis side as they headed up the stairs. “Oh shit, know what just hit me?”

“Hmm?”

“Okay, so…bear with me. Knock knock.”

She clucked her tongue and made to drop his hand, trying towrench herself away from him. “Don’t—don’t!Don’t you dare start up ag—”

“No, you gotta trust me!” Chris laughed, lacing theirfingers to keep her from pulling away. “You’re gonna love this one.”

[tintinwrites]

the stars were made for falling | Poe Dameron x Reader | Part Seven

A/N: This chapter has no Poe and the end is so dumb lmao but I love it because Finn is always a miracle!! I apologize for the wait as well I wasn’t sure if you guys would truly enjoy a chapter with no Poe idek

Rating: M for subject matter?

Warning: Naughty words. Reader is a broken lil baby doll but you know you’re still tough

Word count: 3,019, apparently!!

Summary: You endure dinner with Hux and you find Finn.

Masterlist

Tags: @marvelous-revengers @fandomnerdxox please let me know if you wanted to be tagged and I forgot you, it’s been a while

You were given free rein of the First Order base and a bedroom you could come and go to as you pleased.

It was a very simple room; a bed, an end table with a light, a small dresser, and a personal refresher. It was perfect for an army, similar to the bedroom you used to have with the Resistance, except everything was black and, at its most colorful, very dark grey.

You wished you could say that you had your first night of good rest in a long time now that you weren't in an uncomfortable cell, but you woke frequently, sweating from nightmares of unblinking eyes and weeping pilots.

The bed may have been slightly comfortable, but you were not. When you woke up after yet another nightmare and saw sunlight starting to shine through the little window in your room, you decided to give up. You were moderately rested and that was enough. There were more important things than getting a full eight hours of sleep.

Like finding Finn so you could continue with your plan.

You had to see this plan through and make all this pain worth it.

You could sleep, and rest, and cry, and punish yourself later, when you were safe.

But all you had done needed to be worth it. It needed to be for good. So you shoved everything you felt down and did your best to ignore it. You had to find Finn.

You hadn't expected it to be so hard.

Not just because you were doing your best to ignore most emotions you were feeling, but also because it hadn't occurred to you that there were hundreds of stormtroopers there.

Hundreds of stormtroopers with perfectly identical uniforms.

The only differences you could tell between any of them was their height.

Why hadn't you paid more attention to Finn's height?

Maybe if you had paid a constant, freakish amount of attention to how tall he was, you would be able to at least narrow it down.

You were rounding the corner into a new corridor in search of any stormtrooper that seemed remotely like Finn, gasping in surprise and perhaps a little fear when you almost walked into some officer.

"Ah. Just who I was looking for."

Your mind went into an immediate panic, body tensing in preparation to kick this guy's ass if he tried anything. What if he'd been watching you and somehow deduced that you were searching for your friend?

"General Hux has requested your presence at dinner tonight."

You relaxed, but mostly because you were confused. Hux wanted to have dinner with you?

He really was interested in being a team and that terrified you.

You had to do it for the plan.

Your stupid, stupid plan that had better work.

"Dinner." You were trying so hard to act nonchalant that you looked like an idiot. "When?"

The officer looked at you for a moment, then turned on his heel and walked away. You stared just as he had before half-running after him under the assumption that you were supposed to follow him.

Could these people be normal in any capacity?

He lead you to a door you'd never seen, fairly grandiose compared to the standard doors for most rooms on the base.

He looked at you.

You looked at him.

He rolled his eyes and gestured to the door. "Did the Resistance not teach you how such things work? It's a door. You simply open it and walk in. Shall I show you?"

You made a reminder in the back of your mind to punch this guy when you got out.

"I wasn't sure if I was supposed to go in yet. You didn't say anything." Yeah, you'd punch that judgmental stare right off his face. "Shouldn't I be wearing something...nicer?"

Because this felt like a date and a First Order uniform was odd for a date, and— why the hell were you entertaining the idea of dressing nice for General Armitage Hux? You'd prefer to be dressed as a bantha while alone with him.

You wanted to get away from this officer before he could judge you more — what kind of monsters weren't even kind to one of their own? — so you stepped forward to allow the doors to open, almost relieved when they hissed shut behind you.

The room was bland and yet luxurious like everything else. There was an impossibly long, black table in the center of the room, surrounded by at least a dozen chairs with high backs that were, of course, also black.

You vowed then and there to never own anything black again, should you make it out.

The color just reminded you of the same thing as your subconscious; unblinking eyes and weeping pilots.

And the woman who caused them both.

You started counting the chairs to keep yourself from giving into the sinking feeling that thought gave you, making it to eight before your gaze landed on the man seated at the far end of the table.

General Hux, impeccable as always with a smirk that must have been the biggest smile he could manage.

"I'm pleased to see you joined me."

Wait, had you had a choice?

Before you could foolishly walk right out of the room, he stood and walked over to you, kissing the back of your hand.

He might have been charming if he hadn't been so repulsive instead.

You moved to the chair at the other end of the table where what you assumed to be your dinner waited, sitting down. "May I ask why you wanted me here?" You did, in fact, ask.

"I thought you may enjoy a hot meal." He returned to his chair, raising his voice to be heard given the surprising distance.

Could that really be it? General fucking Hux of the First Order liked you enough now to give you something more than bread and water? Or maybe he knew your plan and this was the calm before he had you brutally murdered. That seemed more likely.

But the food smelled amazing and you couldn't remember the last time you had a good meal like the one in front of you. Even before you were taken by the First Order, you hadn't had real, substantial food since before the war came to a head.

You eyed the array of utensils on the table, picking up a fork and piercing some sort of root vegetable, tentatively bringing it to your lips.

Oh, it was so warm and you could have cried when the flavor touched your tongue. You'd almost forgotten how amazing real food tasted between quick ration meals with the Resistance and plain mush or bread with the First Order. You let out a fairly immodest moan before you realized that Hux was watching you intently. His smirk almost seemed like a smile now.

You swallowed the bite you took. "Thank you. For this." Even if he was going to kill you as soon as you were done eating.

Seemingly satisfied, he picked up his own fork and started eating with you.

The room was silent and you tried your best to keep your thoughts away from certain subjects that would having you breaking down at dinner with a man who you'd convinced you were on his side. You looked at the drink with your meal questioningly, which prompted the general across from you to let you know it was 'emerald wine'. Drinking it helped to distract you. You focused on how delicious the meal was, how normal Hux looked while he was eating, how terrible the interior decorating was, and how this seemed like a room Kylo Ren would stomp his foot about you being in.

Which made you realize that there was a certain someone you hadn't even seen a glimpse of during your time here.

"Hey, where's Kylo Ren in all of this?"

The sound of a fork scraping harshly against a plate rang through the room and you cringed at the horrible noise, looking ahead to see anger flit over Hux's face.

"Our...Supreme Leader...has more important matters to attend to." He spoke carefully as if he might explode at any moment.

It occurred to you that this was a glimpse of his humanity; anger that wasn't self-righteous and perhaps not unfounded. Maybe pulling out the humanity of a man who seemed so inhuman would make your plan a little easier.

"You hate him." You refused to look away as his eyes sharply met yours. "Don't you?"

"He is our Supreme Leader." He spoke in such a clipped tone that his barely hidden feelings were obvious.

You decided to take a chance. You gathered your plate and cup, moving to sit much closer to him, though there was still a chair and a corner of the table between you two. "Who do you think I'm going to tell if you're honest with me?"

He looked like he was considering it, but stayed silent so long that you assumed you were going to return to the somehow loud silence.

"—he's an insolent brat with no leadership skills beyond forcing people to do things that satisfy his obsessive need for vengeance. He has no place as the Supreme Leader."

You stared at him in slight surprise for a moment. "He is a bit of a brat, isn't he?"

"His constant tantrums are an embarrassment to the First Order and our ultimate goal." Hux's words were absolutely laced with hatred.

"Oh, I've witnessed them." You scoffed. "He acts like a youngling."

The general was smiling and then you realized that you were smiling and, fuck, had you just bonded with this man over a shared hatred of Kylo Ren?

You could not bond with the man who tortured you and your friends just because you saw the human within him.

A strange sort of empathy lingered in you nonetheless. Something made him the way he was today, and you had heard plenty of rumors regarding his mother and his monstrous father.

Feeling empathy for him did not make you like him, though.

You both fell silent again, eating and drinking together.

You intended to do what you had assumed of him; let this be the calm before you turned on him.

To do so, you would have to pretend to bond with him, at least.

However, having a conversation with someone like this did not come easily to you.

"So...do you have a favorite color?"

General Hux's favorite color was black, and you learned a lot more about him. Useless facts of favorite things and good memories.

You were actually enjoying yourself until one of his good memories happened to be blowing up a planet full of innocent people. That one kind of put a damper on things and made you remember that this was the man who put you through hell.

A normal conversation may have been a pleasant break from everything, but it didn't change that fact.

You didn't realize you had actually been talking for hours until he mentioned it was late and bid you goodnight, and walked you to the door like he was a gentleman or something.

Without your attention elsewhere, you realized that your very few hours of sleep were catching up to you now that it was night. Your eyes were heavy and you were practically shuffling towards your new room, where you would likely hardly sleep due to more nightmares.

You were just wondering if you were lost after turning down a fourth corridor that didn't hold your bedroom when the sound of perfectly methodical footsteps made you pause. Only stormtroopers marched in such an inimitable way, and you were fairly certain they had a forced early curfew as another means to control them.

The footsteps changed abruptly, suddenly uneven and...sad.

Could footsteps be sad?

Were you really standing there wondering about someone's footsteps when you could have been looking for your room?

A stormtrooper came into view, their head — helmet? — lowered until they came close enough to see your boots, which had them quickly straightening up.

They didn't say anything. Just stared.

Last time a trooper stared at you, it had been—

"Finn?" It couldn't be. After all your searching the entire day, and you were going to run into him alone? But whoever it was tensed and stepped back. That told you more than enough, but you needed further proof. "Take off your helmet."

They hesitated.

You were fairly certain you were already above them, despite having just joined the First Order.

"That is an order."

Reluctant hands came up and unlatched the helmet, taking it off to reveal exactly who you expected.

You forced yourself not to hug him this time.

"Fi— FN-2187." You'd already said his name once. "Could you help me find my room?"

"Yes," he said, even though confusion very briefly flashed in his gaze. Confusion was good, better than the emptiness you'd seen before, showing that your friend was in there and you could get him out if you tried hard enough.

Damn it, you were going to get him out.

He lead you down one more corridor before stopping at the door that held your room, and you might have felt stupid if you weren't focused on other things.

"Thank you." You stepped into the room and he turned to go, only for you to grab onto his arm and yank him in with you, letting the door shut.

"What—"

"Shh! Don't talk, don't attack." You shoved him against the wall, pinning him there. "Finn, I need you to come back to me."

"Ma'am—"

You scowled at the formal, superior title. "No! Y/N. My name is Y/N, you know that and you call me that." He tried to look away and you grabbed his face to make him look at you. "I don't know what they did to you, I don't know what they took from you, but you have to come back. You beat them before, I know you can do it again."

He started to move away. "I should really go—" He gave a grunt as you pushed him back against the wall, his eyes a little wide.

"You have to break out of this, Finn. I can't...I can't do this on my own." Your gaze searched his for a true hint of change. "I can tell they hurt you to make you this way. Do you have any idea what's been going on with everyone else? They put me in solitary and only took me out to hurt Poe, or watch him be hurt, or even be hurt by him. I finally had to convince them that I'm switching to their side, and I just realized that this is gonna be terrible if you rat me out to them, but I can't stop now. Rose is a slave on some planet where they're gathering resources for First Order buildings."

His face seemed slightly less neutral and slightly more upset, which had to be a good thing, right?

"Poe is a dog, Finn. A dog. They torture and humiliate him constantly, and I can tell he's not going to last much longer. You've seen him. You've hurt him. The rest of the Resistance...I don't know what's happened to them, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time before they end up here, too. Rey misses you so much. Do you want her in the hands of Kylo Ren?" You had no doubt the Supreme Leader would happily come around for her.

"I'm supposed to be in bed."

You dropped your head, wondering if you should give up.

But you couldn't because you were going to get Finn and Poe out of here, and you couldn't imagine it would be easy to drag a brainwashed stormtrooper onto a ship back to the Resistance.

How could you snap him out of this? You already tried words and while that seemed to make a slight crack, it didn't change him fully. You didn't want to hit him. Maybe if you shocked him enough, it would bring him out; even a well-trained stormtrooper couldn't be perfect in all situations, right?

The first thing that came to mind was a terrible idea. Your terrible ideas seemed to be going pretty well, though.

Now, you were aware that Finn was handsome and sweet, but the two of you had never been attracted to each other. By the time you met, you had secret eyes for a certain pilot and he had eyes for someone else.

Which was exactly why you knew that this just might be shocking enough to pull him out of his current state.

You grabbed onto Finn's face and slammed your lips against his.

There was this brief pause that felt hours longer than it actually was where he just stayed still and you thought it might not work, but he soon flailed and yanked himself away from you.

He stared at you with wild eyes.

Beautiful, wild eyes that weren't the least bit empty.

"What the hell was that?!" His confused, slightly frightened look only intensified as he looked around. "Where are we?" He asked like he didn't remember.

"The First Order base."

The horror that came to his face seemed to tell you that he hadn't remembered and everything was rushing back to him. "What did I do—"

You grabbed onto his shoulders before he could spiral into terrifying realization, knowing you needed to keep him calm now that he was back. "We've all done some pretty regrettable things, Finn, but we can't focus on that right now. We've got a pilot who's given up and a technician forced into slavery, and we have to get out of here. I need your help. We can cry together later, okay?"

He gave a slightly distracted nod, his mind still obviously racing with the thoughts of what had happened to him and what he had done.

As you filled him in on your barely plausible plan, you knew this was the miracle you were so desperate for.

[pisati]

december’s only just started but I think now’s a good a time as any to start a 2019 recap. 

I don’t remember much of the first half of this year, if I’m honest. I remember it starting in a pretty dark place. I do remember starting talking to Gavin at the tail end of 2018; that was honestly a light spot in that space of time. I’d really been through it last year, and it was so nice and refreshing to talk to someone who genuinely seemed to care, who was genuinely interested in what I had to say and was genuinely curious about me. I felt kind of weird about that level of attention at first, but now I miss it. time’s gone on, what can I say, maybe I’m a little attached. not painfully so, but. this is someone I really do care about a lot.

which is why I’m still pretty regretful about january. I still don’t really know what happened over festivus weekend. I’d been so upset for so long, and next thing I know it’s back to the usual. but it was just.. nothing. I felt blank. my heart dropped into my stomach the next day once I realized how something that felt so insignificant could be so hurtful, and honestly I spent all of festivus in that dead zone at T’s house just really upset with myself. I don’t know how much I would’ve enjoyed it even if that hadn’t happened. 

my depression was really bad. I remember my emotions being all over the place. I remember drinking and eating bundt cake alone at home in my bathtub on valentines day. I remember sending some messages I kind of regret, others just for fun, because fuck it, why not? I remember spending a lot of time in bed. a lot of time trying to reassure myself that I hadn’t done irreversible damage; that I hadn’t fucked up everything as per the usual. journaling, trying to keep my mood up above rock bottom. I was fostering that litter of rats early in the year, and that felt like a whirlwind. I remember going out to dinner with a friend, and coming home, even after having a good night, in a horribly sad mood. I barely remember any of the rest of it. 

I’m sure some good things happened earlier in the year too. one of the few things keeping me sane, besides my rats, was waking up in the middle of the night to snapchat and whatsapp messages from Gavin. I was a complete mess, but having someone consistently showing me they cared and actually wanted to.. I don’t know, follow all my social media, get to know me, all that. it was nice. I remember having a real bad day mood-wise and going to yoga with charlotte, and coming back to a message that I was the ~some kinda angel~ he’d been dreaming about. amazing how something like that can pick you right up. I remember a lot of voice clips; he was real excited to hear my voice the first time. I don’t much care for my voice, but... that enthusiasm gave me a little more confidence to do more song covers. I hadn’t recorded that many in years, if ever.

I think I went to a few shows earlier in the year. I got to meet Phoebe Bridgers, which was so cool. Carmen took me back out to Baltimore after I’d just seen Hozier, and we saw Weezer and The Pixies. and I got to hear all about her girlfriend troubles and her adventures in Cuba. it was really nice reconnecting with a friend, hearing how she’s been trying to do better for herself, and she really is. I can’t say I’m not a little jealous of her; her confidence and radiance; but I’m also really proud of her too.

I started my mood tracker app in february, and I think I started seeing my psychiatrist not long after that. I’m still amazed she started me on something that didn’t make me sick, and might actually be working for me. I’m still recalling that one night I had, must’ve been february. I felt absolutely godawful, and nothing helped. it wasn’t anything in particular, I just felt Bad. I wouldn’t have done anything stupid, but I also felt for a minute like it’d never go away. I tried everything. I tried a bath, possibly a face mask. I tried writing, I think. I tried music. I even put on a disney movie or two like I would if I were feeling sick (I rarely ever watch anything disney, but when I get panicky from nausea I need something comforting). nothing helped. that I think is what prompted me to go to a psychiatrist this time. I hadn’t been in that deep of a pit in a long time.

things started to pick up with the weather. I felt myself balance out. I really thought for a minute that I was going to scare Gavin away with my erratic moods, and I thought he had this perception of me that I was some kinda crazy or overemotional or whatever else... but I was just in a real bad spot. I’m still grateful that he stuck by me through all that, and wasn’t too weirded out by me for it to be actually exciting when I got my plane tickets to Scotland. I was really excited too, but of course kind of nervous because I’d never been that far away from home by myself before. 

I remember doing a good bit of volunteering, but I was really tired and couldn’t keep up with much more than one day a week. my energy levels were worrying. I know I saw a few doctors, because thankfully I had the time, but they weren’t terribly helpful. 

I’m sure I went to more shows. I lost my Louie in June, not long after his second birthday. that was heart-shattering. I wasn’t expecting it from him; he was just fine. he just had a lump removed from his tail. he was such a happy, sweet boy. I couldn’t believe one minute he was snuggling with his cagemates, and the next I was holding his tiny little body in my hands, trying to get CPR to work, watching the life leave his eyes. taking him to the crematory was hard. picking up his ashes was hard. everything about it was hard. but I had to keep going. I wasn’t expecting that at all, and I was so scared Ollie would be alone, because Fitzie’s time was coming fast too. he’d been deteriorating over the course of the year and I just knew it was only a matter of months. his legs were going, and he couldn’t clean himself. towards the end I had to check his privates at least once a day; male rats get buildup of various fluids, oil, and skin cells, and those plugs can block their urethras. they generally clean it themselves, but when they get so old they can’t do it. so it was up to me to pull it out. I can’t say it wasn’t weirdly satisfying, kind of in the same way that popping a big pimple is satisfying, but it was definitely gross.

so I looked for more rats to adopt. and by some miracle, just like the day after Marty passed, I found a brand new litter posted by the rescue some of my fosters went to. I went to meet the baby boys and picked two, and while I probably could’ve picked a better match... I love my Harper and Micah to bits. they’ve got such personalities on them.

but of course, nothing is ever convenient. right after I adopted them (because I had to go through such a long adoption process; I could’ve had more time otherwise), I had to go to farm jam. I was a little over-prepared this year, but I’m glad I got myself a nice tent and prepared for rain. farm jam honestly wasn’t that great this year, though. my friends wanted to hang out with each other, hardly anyone talked to me, and their friends from other places that I didn’t even know had other friends that they brought to our campsite, so there were a lot of strangers around. not that that’s a bad thing, but... I just felt uncomfortable. everything is so different now. not to mention I just felt really alone. people talked to me when they needed to. I ended up actually pretty bored; I’d brought some things to keep myself entertained, but I was asleep before midnight every night because there was only so much I felt like staying awake for by myself. there was one night I was just really upset, so I made myself a quick dinner and shut myself in my tent while everyone else was up all night. I read by lantern-light, put in my earplugs after I was tired enough, and went to sleep. I was ready to be home again. I’m not sure if I want to go again next year. I like farm jam, truly, but it’s just not fun when you’re surrounded by ‘friends’ who can’t eve be bothered to talk to you. it was painfully obvious that I’m just not part of the group anymore.

I was glad to have Scotland to look forward to. I got to unpack and repack; thankfully I was smart enough to make packing lists before I even left for farm jam. I was nervous as all hell once I got to BWI and found my terminal, and once I landed in JFK I was trying real hard not to call my mom like I usually do when I get nervous. I get the travel jitters pretty bad. but I took some zzzquil before I got on the plane, and since I’d already been up all day I was grateful to sleep through a good bit of the 5.5 hour flight. I managed to stave off jet lag by staying up for another full day, but I can’t say I enjoyed it, ha.

I did enjoy everything else about that trip, though. I definitely had plenty of high points in my year (much more than last year, for sure), but this trip was probably the best. I know I wasn’t the most expressive (I guess I’ve learned not to be?), but I loved it there. I also know I got real lucky with the weather, so it’s not always as gorgeous as it was when I visited, but it really was lovely. I’d love to go back to Gourock one of these days. sit on the shore; a little slice of such a big world. I wouldn’t have wanted to skip rocks with much of anyone else.

I had a moment while I was catching my breath in Edinburgh; I’d gotten the tiniest bit lost and wound up in the park across the street from the Botanic Gardens, so I sat on a bench for a bit so I wouldn’t look weird. after a while I got up and crossed a big football field to get back where I was trying to go, and I remember looking up at the sky for a split second, and it really hit me that I was alone. that was the furthest away I’d been from home by myself, and I was in a city 2 hours away from the only other person I knew for thousands of miles. it wasn’t scary, necessarily. not even lonely. I think that feeling would’ve given me anxiety in the past. it was just... a profound aloneness. 

I was really proud of myself for tackling Edinburgh by myself. figuring out the trains, going to see the castle, managing to avoid looking like a tourist so nobody hassled me, finding a little record shop to browse through, walking around the gardens alone. I was in so much pain I couldn’t even believe it, though. I’m amazed I made it back to the train without my leg bones breaking through my heels, and amazed I could even still walk by the time I got back to Gourock. my hips were so stiff and every step was hard. I know I pushed it. but it was so worth it.

I miss the feeling. that no-obligations feeling; being able to do pretty much anything we wanted because it was vacation time. I do remember feeling bad, not knowing what it was that I must’ve said or done (because why else would you go quiet on me?). that wasn’t so fun. but I know I’m not unreasonable. I’m not hard to talk to, I don’t think. I don’t explode over little things; I’d much rather talk through them than be left wondering what I did wrong, and then do it again. I don’t mean to be rude or mean or anything like that. we grew up with very different perceptions of things but I want to be on the same page, and sometimes that means being a little more conscious of what I say and do.

I wasn’t really looking forward to coming home, but thankfully I had a little bit more down time before I started my new job. and ever since the end of august, I’ve been in work mode, it feels like. I’ve tried to keep up with volunteering, I’ve kept myself entertained sending packages out to Scotland (can’t say I’m a fan of international shipping costs though), and I’ve dealt with the loss of a few pets. I’ve been lucky enough to have my mom’s help with moving out, and I feel like my meds are really helping me now too. I feel a lot more balanced out than I did, and having such a good work environment is helping immensely. I’m still not quite where I want to be, but I feel better than I have in years both mentally and emotionally.

the emotional front has changed too. back at the beginning of the year, I was so messed up, still. there was a lot of residual hurt after the 2 years or so prior, but I was also still super depressed. but the waters have calmed, and I’ve found that I’m not completely alone, necessarily. I have the hope that I have one person in my life now that won’t give up on me. I’ve had... something like a year now of something relatively consistent. I feel like I’ve been able to build some trust, and like I’m slowly chipping away at these walls I’ve had built up. for the first time in years I’m actually kind of upset about feeling lonely. for the first time in years I’m not feeling sick to my stomach thinking about holding a hand, or someone holding me, or, god forbid, even kissing someone. I might even want that. and it’s weird to me, now, because it almost seems out-of-character, since I’ve been so messed up for so long. but this isn’t out-of-character, it’s the character I used to be before things all went sideways. I’ve had this image of being distant and detached and repulsed and unfortunately that ends up getting tied to the fact that I’m asexual (though in actuality they’re not related). but I know that’s not me. I know my asexuality is just a fact about my attraction to other people, and it has little to do with my behavior. it’s weird to me, feeling like this again, but I’m so relieved the damage might not have been permanent. it helps that my memory is such garbage. hard to remember how to feel fucked up when you can’t hardly remember how you got there to begin with.

maybe my year will end on a little brighter note. I’m seeing a new rheumatologist on new years eve. I hope a few people will come visit for new years. I’ve got crafts to do and things to keep myself busy with. I hope Gavin will want to skype before the end of the year, but I get not feeling good. I get that talking takes energy. sometimes I feel like I just take a lot of energy to interact with, so I’m trying not to be annoying. I’m fine doing my own thing, as I have been. but I do miss his [virtual] company. it’s getting a lot more obvious since moving out how really quiet and lonely it is by myself, and I have this feeling in the bit of my stomach that I’d feel a lot better if I could share this space with someone. sometimes I just want to show someone something, make them smile, talk about little nothings. and I don’t have that right now. I’m trying to let little things make me happy and let that be good enough, but it’s hard sometimes. it would just be really nice to be able to rest my head on a shoulder. to laugh about a dumb tv show with someone. even though I feel a lot better than I used to when I missed people, things sometimes just aren’t as good alone.

a lot of this year felt really foggy. but I’m glad to be where I am, even though it’s making me nervous. I hope I’m putting a good foot forward. and I hope 2020 brings more growth and healing. I hope one of these days I can learn to be the kind of person I want to be, and that I can be good for someone else too. so I can just know that to at least one person I’m not completely insufferable. so I don’t have to be so afraid that I’m just going to drive people away so I self-isolate. I’m doing a lot better about the negative thoughts, but I want to keep improving on that too. I have a lot of work to do, but I want to do it. it’s scary to feel like I’m doing so much alone. it’s sad knowing everyone else is caught up in their own lives, but at least most of them have someone else. it hits me sometimes how really, really lonely it is to have your own life but completely alone. I don’t mind being single. but it would be nice to come home to someone I love. someone that isn’t my rats, though of course they brighten my day no matter what, ha.

so. yeah. I’m a little hopeful. I want to get my shit figured out a little bit more. it’d be real nice to go back to Scotland too, but I might have to put that idea on hold til my life balances out a little more. I’m just going one day at a time right now. I’m doing my best. and thankfully my best is getting a little better. I want to keep that up.