#i’ve been to one convention my whole life and it was ok.. i walked around a bit and bought some art

[1roentgen]

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[bogmonstergeneral]

One of my favorite things in the whole wide world is an ultra-accurate cosplay. I’m talking exact name brands. Obviously, this can be tough, because media in question will very rarely go out of their way to tell you what the character is wearing. Shoes, in particular, are very difficult.

I really like shoes. More so, I really like good leather shoes. The kind that last you your whole life. Currently, I’ve been hyperfixated on Metalocalypse, and today, we’re talkin boots.

Welcome to:

Bog’s Boot Basics: Metalocalypse Edition

I think people are scared of leather. I’m here to tell you that leather will not hurt you. You will not save the planet by buying a pleather boot. Actually, not only is pleather horrible for the planet, it’s also gonna cost you more in the long run because pleather isn’t built to last.

Say it with me: Leather is more sustainable than pleather.

I’m serious. Stop buying pleather boots off amazon for your cosplays. Stop buying pleather, period.

Most of the boots (and sneakers) I’m showing you today will not only elevate your cosplay, but also last you for the rest of your natural days. If you buy them secondhand, they have probably lived longer lives than you. Leather fucking rocks if you take care of it.

This all being said: These are not super budget-friendly options. Good new boots are an investment, and sometimes you have to pay a little more. If you’re not able to do that, these can often be found on ebay at lower prices, and very often at second-hand stores.

Ok, that aside, we can jump in.

I’m stealing a pic from the comic because it shows all their shoes. Although Skwis and Toki’s boot colors are actually reversed here - Skwis wears black boots, Toki wears brown in the show. Blah blah, anyway.

Nathan Explosion

Nathan wears some sort of single buckle, black tall boot. For our sake, we’re calling them biker boots.

Single buckle, slightly slouchy at the ankle, low heel. No laces or visible zippers.

Nathan does, in fact, ride motorcycles. Because of this, I’m going on a limb and saying these are actual biker boots. Nathan also, in fact, has money, and Harley Davidson boots are a fantastic choice for this.

Here’s a pair of Harley Chalmers with an extra buckle - no foul there, these are cunty as hell and I’d totally wear them anyway.

Pro: Fucking brutal

Con: Brutal fucking price tag at $200 new.

Honestly, if you’ve got the money and you want a sick pair of boots… buy em. Harley’s last forever.

The Harley double-zip riding boot is a slightly cheaper option, sitting around $100-$120.

Honestly, these are gonna be easy to find. Your keywords here are “Tall biker boot with buckle” or something along those lines. That’s doable. I also see a lot of secondhand Harley’s going for really reasonable asking prices, so always check all your thrift stores and ebay (depop and mercari are kinda a crapshoot, but always worth looking.)

Skwisgaar Skwigelf/Toki Wartooth

These are the boots that made me make this post, because I saw them and immediately thought “there’s no fucking way they’re walking around in those 24/7,” because those are old school field boots.

Ask any person who’s ever ridden a horse over the age of 30 if they can take a look in the backs of their closets, because they most definitely still have a pair of these boots. Every equestrian had at least one pair of these torture devices, and they will outlive you.

Here’s an example of a black pair and a brown pair:

Pros: You can get these on ebay for anywhere between $20-$100. Facebook market place is full of them too.

Cons: These were made for you to wear while sitting on a horse all day, heels down. When you walk in them, they will pinch the everloving fuck out of your heels, and this leather is too thick and stiff to soften. If you’re gonna walk around in these on a convention floor, please bring a change of shoes because you will fucking need them.

But these are so easy to find and they usually shine up really well. If you don’t have leather conditioner (which you should if you own leather shoes) olive oil works in a pinch.

You also usually have a couple different calf options here, so you can tack on “wide calf” or “tall calf” or “slim calf” etc etc depending on your needs.

Your keywords here are “Old school equestrian riding/field/hunt boots.” So fuckin easy.

William Murderface

It pains me to say this. But that dildo fuckhead is wearing Demonias.

Look at him. He knows what he’s doing. I use the term Dildo Fuckhead affectionately btw, please don’t mistake me for a Murderface hater. I love him.

Honestly, I think you could get away with calling these mid-calf’s, but they’re probably technically tall boots.

Obviously I hate Demonias. These plastic fucking emo Barbie boots are worth approximately $8 and a cup of Kraft mac n cheese. They will cost you well over $100. Fuck that.

I’ve heard that older New Rocks are good alternatives? I have a friend that backs that claim up, but I don’t have a pair to confirm that. I’m sure there’s some Doc Martens you could sub in but I couldn’t find any matches under $400.

These are a pair of New Rocks. They’re… that I guess. Kinda cool. He’s probably not even really wearing Demonias but like, that’s what they are. To me. In my heart.

Here’s a pair of Demonia Riot-18BK. I guess. They’re about $133.

Murderface somehow has the most difficult boots for me to find. Plenty of cheapo Temu options, but I’m not here to show you those. Please let me know if you buy a pair of Temu boots so I can come to your house and break every fucking lamp you own.

Your keywords are “Tall boot with buckles” or “tall biker boots with buckles” or anything along those lines.

I feel like you’ve got a little more room for interpretation on Murderface’s boots, so long as their tall boots and they’ve got the buckles, you’re golden.

Wild Card Round: Pickles the Drummer

Man is wearing adidas!!! Pickles cosplayers are the comfiest motherfuckers in the convention hall.

Campus 00s, Samba OGs, Handball Spezial, Superstars, and Racer V 2.0 are all going to get you extremely close renditions of his shoes. The racer’s are my everyday shoe when I don’t wanna wear boots and those fuckers are. So comfy. Wear em without socks, who fuckin cares. I bet Pickles doesn’t even own socks.

If you’re going for Snakes N Barrels Pickles, try looking up “red Justin cowboy boots.” Justin’s are my go to brand because they last forever (I have a pair from the 70s) and they’re pretty comfy. They’re work boots, so they’re made to be worn/worked in all day.

If you’re made of money, buy yourself a pair of Tecovas. Those are the nicest cowboy boot you’ll ever own.

Blam! Bootboard moodboard! I probably should have done this with all of them.

Anyway. Have fun, remember that inaccurate pieces don’t make or break a cosplay, this is just for fun and to elevate whatever you’ve got going on. Wear your shoes until they fall apart (that’s what i do. get your moneys worth), be kind to your feet, be kind to your shoes (actually you can be pretty harsh to leather so long as you do a little aftercare. this is an innuendo, but also please clean and condition your leather pieces.) and be kind to the planet. Leather is better than pleather. You are paying a premium for plastic. Don’t do that.

(Lemme know if this is cool/useful btw. I would be so happy to find boots/brands of clothing for your cosplays. I think my inbox is open.)

[hopefullystillatheatrestudent]

this might be a weird thought but the way jensen performs masculinity (and i KNOW it’s a performance cause like, have you SEEN the mockumentary?) is just.... so inherently queer to me lmao

ok. okokokokokok. you asked for this. i have a LOT of thoughts on this. it’s gonna be under a cut because i’m gonna be annoying and psychoanalyse a celebrity i’ve never met(and hope i never do) but trust and believe when i tell you i know what i’m talking about so

you want my opinion? here goes. there is absolutely no way jensen ackles is straight. i hear you, ‘how do you know that he’s bi? that’s invasive and creepy’ but may i counter that point by saying how do you know he’s straight???? why is the default for everyone heterosexual? that’s a toxic mentality to have; ‘oh you don’t know for sure so just treat him like he’s 100% straight just in case’ like....what? heteronormativity drives me wild i’m sorry

and also, um, just to, um, prove my point that this man is decidedly not straight™(i really don’t want to do this but like it has to be said) we KNOW he’s not straight because his d*ck has spoken for itself around misha, like, four times. I HATE SAYING IT!!!!!!! but, um, straight men don’t get aroused by men. ...do i really need to explain myself further???? that’s what i thought(and don’t give me the ‘it could have been for unrelated reasons’ or ‘that wasn’t a boner!’ crap because um good lord yes it was and misha caused every single one so no it wasn’t a coincidence i’m gonna move on before i collapse into myself like a dying star)

anyway, on to the topic at hand which is jensen and his performative masculinity. and it’s a juicy one.

after the unconscious amount of hours i’ve put into watching and subconsciously judging jackles, i have come to the conclusion that like, 90% of how he presents himself and talks and even moves is an act. it’s a facade. it’s a shield. he is not that person. it actually seems exhausting, because he tries to compose himself in this macho, manly, confident and effortlessly cool way, but he’s not that person he desperately wishes he was and wants to be perceived as. he’s on guard every second, even the slightest tilt of his head is like, pre-meditated in some way? if i’m going FULL body language analyst mode, i’ve noticed he has a certain posture he always shifts himself into, and it’s very ‘pursed lips, stoic faced, gruff voiced, square-shoulder, broad and manly’ but, not to be rude jensen, it kind of reads as a little kid imitating the adults he thinks are cool? oof i am going IN huh(it’s out of love though i promise)

he is trying to be this person at every second:

because that’s who he wishes he was, because that’s how he gets validation from the people around him that he looks up to; straight white guys. but to me, who he presents himself to be at conventions is just as much of a performance as this whole eye of the tiger bit is.

oh i should mention i know his body language isn’t naturally like that because how he naturally carries himself is actually pretty flamboyant? like he seriously must be toning himself down HARD

examples:

there’s no tension in his body here as opposed to the eye of the tiger gif. i’d describe it as...generally loose and free? he’s at ease when he moves like that and you can see it.

oh and dude!!! DUDE!!!! how could i not mention the fucking SPECTACLE that is his voice??? jensen. i watched season one. i know where your voice naturally sits. THAT IS NOT WHAT YOU SOUND LIKE. and there have been so many accounts of fans visiting jensen in his trailer and being surprised that his real voice is two octaves higher. again, his performance of masculinity is all encompassing. he can’t even talk normally because, in his mind, that’s a chink in his armour.

and, like you said, anon, this whole smokes-and-mirrors gong show of ‘i am the cool texan man’ is inherently queer. who are you trying to impress??? guys??? that’s pretty gay dude.(btw: gay[honorary])

i feel like i’ve already read this man for filth but i have to keep going bc i have so much to say

ok next thing i’m gonna talk about is how jensen says one thing but everything else about him tells us the exact opposite. another HUGE element of performative masculinity, ONE THAT DEAN WINCHESTER IS A MASTER OF. have i mentioned how dean and jensen are like mirrors of each other when it comes to their sexuality and queer identity??? because it is fascinating how everything i say about jensen also directly applies to dean.

allow me to introduce the grumpy face™. as in, the face he glues on when he’s enjoying doing something but doesn’t want to let anyone know it. and it’s ALWAYS when he’s doing something that could be seen as unmanly in any way. (and when i say manly i mean the ‘ideal’ version of manhood that doesn’t really exist but that jensen seems to be striving for[and dean too])

prime example is this video he did with daneel. the grumpy face™ doesn’t budge the whole time as he’s like,,,,playing an instrument and acting like he doesn’t want to bc i guess that’s too girly??? but i also find this video fascinating because the joke IN it is kind of that they’re both poking fun at him for being so insecure about playing a freaking flute. because, i mean, he gets into it, but he wants you to think he is not.

also this picture.

what is this. i hate them. jensen is smushing himself into misha’s forehead but noooo his face is telling us ‘i hate this’ because CLEARLY he does. also misha’s so happy ew gross

he does that face in photo ops with misha ALL THE TIME but how many times has he also literally asked the con goers if he can also have those photos on his phone too? because of course he actually loves touching misha and is actually a sentimental fool but he tries so hard to hide it and fails so spectacularly.

oh and this. and of COURSE this. actually let’s talk about the hitch kiss for a hot minute because it’s a perfect example of exactly what i’m talking about

(he is so transparent guys. he tries so hard but he’s so obvious.)

1. misha was never supposed to be onstage with him. so it’s a boldface LIE and OBVIOUS PLOY TO GET MISHA TO KISS HIM when he says ‘they’d like us to make out now’. but of course the way he says it is ‘oh my god can you believe what these crazy panel people are making us do haha but i mean what they say goes amirite’. same energy as ‘oh my god did you just dare us to kiss rn???’ ‘....no i didn’t’ ‘oh my god i can’t believe you’d ask that haha but i can’t say no to a dare lol’ it’s the SAME THING

2. the fact that he was in the worst mood before misha came onstage and FAKE KISSING HIM made him feel...SO?? much better? like not just a little better a lot better like, again, that says a lot, because if they weren’t dating he would not be in a better mood if misha kissed his cheek unprompted. bc that cheek kiss wasn’t a joke it was a genuine sign of affection and AHHHH

3. after the kiss happens. you know, the one that jensen actively leans into and is smiling like an idiot the whole time through and is quite clearly having the time of his life during....he says ‘well, that was uncomfortable’. .......my guy. um. i don’t know how to tell you that i do in fact have eyes and you are NOT pulling the fast one you think you are

like i’m so sorry jensen but i have you pegged. it’s literally no use.

god there’s so many instances of him doing this with misha specifically. the whole ‘ew gross lol’ but then everything about him tells us the exact opposite. like this(i hate this. how dare he say ‘he has though, hasn’t he?’ LIKE THAT?????)

so yeah my point with that is he really wants us to think he is one thing when he is the antithesis of what he’s trying to be. he really likes those things that he talks down about, and everything he’s loudly projecting is all to hide how he really feels. he went to a gay bar with daneel, for crying out loud. he wants to play a role in drag. he’s queer and he likes it. pov: you’re jensen ackles train of thought: ‘ok so i really like this thing that people might make fun of me for or call me gay for liking so if i just say ‘lol as if’ and make a grossed-out face they will be FOOLED. i am a genius. hey misha wanna blow on my ear lol i meAN GROSS EW’

i have two more things i want to talk about when it comes to this topic so PLEASE bear with me anon this is why you took so long to answer clearly lmao

ok so we’re now going to go over my favorite hot take of all time. which is ‘how do we know dean’s performing masculinity? because sam isn’t.’ only replace dean with jensen and sam with jared and oh my god do we ever have a case

jared is as STRAIGHT as they come. he is secure in that knowledge. and that’s why he is perfectly comfortable treating misha like this:

and not try to scream ‘i am not enjoying doing this!!!!!!’ at us. because he doesn’t care what we think of his sexuality like jensen does(because he has nothing to hide whereas jensen DOES)

something i found the other day that no one has brought up but i SCREAMED upon finding it is this one clip THAT I CAN’T FIND OH GOD but i promise i’m not making it up. i can’t believe i can’t find it guys it is gold. i need need NEED to talk about it. and if anyone knows what i’m referencing and can apply links in any way i will love you forever but here’s what happens off the top of my head:

ok so i’m a bit too braindead to explain it perfectly but um basically it’s a j2 panel and someone brings up magic mike and i think jared says ‘yeah i didn’t watch it’ and then jensen says ‘all the way through’. stupid joke. whatever. the joke is that jared is gay for watching magic mike.

and then i literally kid you not. jared gets this like ‘jesus christ ok dude? lol’ look on his face and then goes ‘projecting much, mr. ackles?’ and jensen gets a guilty look on his face and walks away. and jared did not say it as a joke. he was being dead pan and earnest. and jensen knew it too, he knew he was projecting. i wish i could show you guys the clip i promise if i ever find it i’ll link it but IS THAT NOT SO DAMNING FOR JENSEN????? like come ON. also proves my point that when you compare how they feel about watching magic mike. jared doesn’t care bc watching it just doesn’t interest him, but he also thinks that just watching it in itself doesn’t make you gay. jensen however.......has a different mindset, clearly.

‘projecting much, mr. ackles?’ is actually a great title for my next and FINAL section(we’re almost there folks) which is how jensen projects his insecurites about his own sexuality and relationship with misha onto misha.

i hope by now we’ve all seen this video of jensen impersonating cas. it is a blatant microaggression on his part. and like obviously homophobic. it’s like in his mind if he makes fun of them for being gay it makes them both less gay somehow??? it’s self-deprecation in a way??? let’s just tell it like it is: that impression was just jensen’s overt internalized homophobia rearing it’s ugly head. he does it a LOT too when it comes to misha.

i mean:

and that whole mess where he’s making fun of misha for being a bottom in their panel in 2016? ‘so you’re saying, like with football terms, there’s a handler and there’s a receiver heheheehe’ jensen you’re not exempt from being gay just because you know football terms lmao

oh and his OTHER impression of misha where he mocks him for...bicycling...because it’s not a manly enough sport??? jensen NO ONE else has ever thought this hard in their lives about what constitutes as masculine enough to be a sport before. that’s all you bud. we don’t find those jokes nearly as funny as you do. you are reaching, sir

the good news is that misha thinks it’s hilarious and knows it’s projecting on jensen’s part and will tease him endlessly for it. many stories come to mind, like that one photo op story where they’re literally dressed in rainbow banners and pride stickers but when misha goes to hold his hand jensen said something like ‘no way’ and then misha stepped back, put his hands on his hips and went ‘that’s the part that’s too gay for you???’ and jensen LOST it

or when that whole underwear thing happened(messy messY MESSY BTW) and then a fan asked a question about what dean and cas would do in rome and misha just said ‘when in rome’ and jensen makes a face like ‘are you serious’ and then misha says ‘you can’t look at me like that anymore, because of what you did!!!!!!’

OH and that whole story about when misha suggested they put jensen in the closet for that cat video....yeah um

and then when jensen was asked to do bisexual finger guns for a photo op and the con goer said ‘he looks bisexual here’ and misha literally said ‘oh he definitely looks bisexual here. i would say he’s actually closer to the gay side of the spectrum’ so..um...make with that as you will

OH MY GOD i’m finally done. wow. WOW. that was a lot. i hope i’ve blown your minds. ty anon i really wanted to talk about this and i hope you’re happy with the outcome!!!!!!

[spencerspecifics]

New oneshot alert!! @spencers-renaissance asked for this so here we are!! They asked “OK OK I’ve got so many ideas that I’ll never write SO. I really want to read a fic where a fem reader is dating emily and they’ve been together for Years. and then I want to read some cute fluff of her visiting emily when she becomes unit chief? and she’s really fond for the reader and she’s friends with the bau too, especially spencer and penelope! I just wanna feel like I’m emily’s whole world is that too much to ask 😳”

And no it’s not. And I’m sorry but I lowkey made it angsty ugh sorry. I love emily sm so here we go! (Also this is my first wlw writing piece so please don’t be too harsh!)

f!reader x emily prentiss

———————————————————————

Moya Lyubov'

———————————————————————

You hadn’t been able to see her this past month, and it was weighing on you like a stone. It’s not like you never saw emily, more though it was only through sleepy late night FaceTime calls and selfies she’d send to you to remind you that she loved you. And as much as you loved that, and secretly saved all those pictures to your cloud, you needed her.

Real her, not selfies and calls. You had to see her. You had to be able to reach out and hold her hand, and push her hair back out of her face and give her a kiss and know that she was a real person again. Because at times, it felt like she was a ghost.

Of course, you signed up for all of this when you two did start dating so long ago. Emily had practically tried to convince you out of dating her, because she knew the strain of her work would compromise all the romance she’d ever get. But you didn’t care. You were there with texts and late night FaceTime calls, and hell; sometimes she’d even relay case information to you and you’d offer up an angle she may have not considered.

It worked, the life you and her had built together. And you’d continue to make sure it worked until you were two old ladies sitting in rocking chairs and reminiscing about how young you used to be. But for now, you missed her. And you had to go see her.

~

And you did, it wasn’t uncommon for agents spouses to come through to see their partners when they were working overtime- which emily had been doing to an extreme as of late, not to mention she had flown out twice this month to consult on other cases, and the fact she had just been promoted. Her entire life was in the office right now, and you were more than willing to accommodate. If you were there, you knew it would just be better.

And you didn’t come empty handed, you knew well enough now to not show up without treats for the rest of the team. So when you showed up, you had two drink carrier’s worth of coffee with you.

You arrived quickly, as you couldn’t carry two drink carriers for too long- you were bound to drop one. And you made your way into the bullpen, “Well hello there gorgeous, what’re you bringing us coffee for?” Derek asked as he looked up from his case files, a tired smile on his face. He’s probably been here all day too.

You smiled back, him complimenting you didn’t phase you. Derek was naturally flirty and kind towards everyone, it took you a while to understand that at first, but now you were totally comfortable with him- and the rest of the team. J.J. made her way from her desk in the bullpen over to you once she saw you with the coffee carriers.

“Y/n, hey! What’s all this for?” She asked you happily as she gave you a hug, the team was very touchy (except for Spencer, which you didn’t mind either way.) so you accepted all the hugs and shoulder pats they gave you. It meant they accepted you for who you were, and that was the most important thing. After all, they were Emily’s family.

“No reason, really,” you explained as you reached into the drink carriers to find everyone’s orders. “I just wanted to come see em, and I thought coffee would be a nice surprise for everyone.”

“Thank you. And if Prentiss doesn’t marry you, I will. Team can’t afford to lose you now.” Derek gladly spoke as he reached over for the coffee, you handed it over to him with a wordless smile. You almost loved the team as much as emily did. Almost, because obviously you’ve never had to wrestle serial killers with them, and you only really can pack bond with people after you’ve done that.

J.J. grabbed her coffee, giving you one last ‘thanks’ before heading back to her desk. She seemed to be in the middle of something, which was no bother to you.

“Where’s Spencer?” You asked Derek after a moment, realizing it was only really him and J.J. in the bullpen currently.

“I think him and Garcia are in with your girl,” Derek said as he pointed up to where Emily’s new office was. The blinds were drawn shut, this was either really good or really bad. Or nothing.

“Are they in trouble?” You couldn’t help but ask, not sure if the question sounded dumb or not. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I think it’s more of a friend talk, than a professional talk.” Morgan explained, sipping on his coffee casually.

You nodded, grabbing the coffee carriers off of his desk, “I’m going up there, giving Rossi his coffee before going to interrupt whatever they’re up to.”

“You go, girl.” Derek said supportingly as he swiveled around in his desk chair, focusing back on his computer monitor.

~

True to your word, you stopped into Rossi’s office and dropped a coffee off at his desk, he was on the phone in a heated debate, arguing about god know’s what;

“Martino, I’m not paying you to tell me your opinion- if I wanted that I’d walk into a bar!” Rossi raised his voice into the receiver, he briefly looked over at you and pulled the phone away from his mouth so he could talk to you, “Grazie, amore. My publisher’s an idiot.” He sighed, as if you could understand what it felt like to be a published author.

All you did was nod in response, “I hope he gets his head out of his ass.” You joked, Rossi chuckled in response, “Yeah, me too,” before turning the phone back to his mouth so he could yell some more, “You think I won’t take my business elsewhere? You want to doubt my integrity?! You’re on thin ice!” He reached for the coffee you brought him with ease, looking up at you with a wordless ‘thanks’ in his eyes.

“See you later.” You spoke softly to Rossi, moving towards the door, he nodded in confirmation. At you or the publisher, you weren’t sure. But with that, you left, shutting the door quietly behind you before walking to Emily’s new office.

~

You didn’t knock, instead just walking in. It wasn’t like you had a sense of superiority surrounding the fact your girlfriend was now the unit chief of the fucking BAU, but it was also just a bit of that. You couldn’t help it, she reached new heights she never would’ve imagined, you wanted to relish in it with her.

So you entered with ease, Spencer was sat in one of the guest chairs, Penelope was standing next to him, and Emily was on the opposite side of the desk. Her new name plaque simply read; “SSA Emily Prentiss- BAU Unit Chief”.

Everyone stopped when you entered, Spencer looked over at you from over the top of the chair, meanwhile Garcia turned a full one eighty, and Emily just raised her eyes to meet yours, immediately a small smile spreading on her face.

“Hi! Y/n, what’re you doing here?” Penelope asked giddily, always excited to see you and hug you and let you know that you were loved. She was the fucking best.

You raised the drink carriers as a weak excuse, “Thought you guys could use some coffee.” Garcia smiled happily, taking the carriers out of your hands gingerly, setting them down on Emily’s desk, immediately looking for her caramel grande extra shot vanilla almond milk whatever the hell she ordered.

“Did you bring one for me?” Spencer asked, “As if I wouldn’t. I know you don’t get enough sleep, Doctor.” You joked, he smiled sheepishly, and you pointed to a cup in the carrier, “That ones yours, it’s got an extra espresso shot.”

“You’re a life saver.” Spencer thanked you as he reached for it happily, you made your way past them and to Emily, who was still smiling softly at you, like you were the only person in the room. Her gaze was always so powerful, stopping you in your tracks, making you feel like it was only just her and you, and the rest of the world was static.

You smiled back at her, you couldn’t help it. “Hey, Unit Chief Prentiss.” You spoke, using her official title, a blush rushed up to her face, she looked bashfully down at the floor, she was beautiful.

“Okay, me and Reid are gonna dip because you two beautiful ladies need some alone time but we will talk later Emily! Y/n, thank you, I love you!” Garcia spoke happily as she set the last coffee, Emily’s coffee, onto her desk, before finally giving Reid the “let’s go” look; who nodded and got up out of the chair himself.

“Thanks y/n, I appreciate the coffee. Emily, please let us go.” He directed his final words at her, emily just chuckled in response, “Reid, unless serial killers stop for two weeks, I don’t think you and Garcia can go to that convention.”

“What about all my vacation days?” “They don’t cover half a months worth of absences.” “Can I take some of Rossi’s?” Spencer asked, getting off track- forgetting he was supposed to leave.

“Reid, c’mon!” Garcia called for him from the hallway, Spencer obliged, leaving with one final nod back at you, before turning and shutting the door behind him quietly.

~

“I missed you.” Prentiss spoke after Spencer left. Emily was always so reserved in front of the team, but alone, she would shower you with attention and love. It was an interesting personality shift to see.

“I missed you too,” you responded easily, leaning down to catch her lips in a chaste kiss.

“God, I missed you.” She repeated herself after she had pulled away. “I really, really fucking missed you.” You smiled, a smile that hurt your face if you kept it up for too long- which you knew you would. You couldn’t help it. Emily was an infectious disease, the kind that took over your body first, making you crave her, and then taking over your eyes, making you dream of her; and finally, over taking your mind and heart; only making you think of her and long for her. It was her, it would only ever be her that made you feel this way. And you didn’t care, all you cared about was her. And you had her, finally, thank god.

You couldn’t stop yourself, leaning in to kiss her again happily. You had missed her, you had missed this. You had missed being with her, talking to her, seeing her smile in real life- and not over video. This was like breathing fresh air after breathing in smoke fumes for hours, it was exactly what you needed. And it was exactly what she needed.

The kiss ended, you pulled away and moved back, towards the guest chair so you could sit and converse with her. She didn’t take her eyes off of you while you moved, and once you were seated she spoke again.

“This is perfect.” You raised your eyebrows, a signal as if to say ‘continue’, because you weren’t sure what she was referring to. “Having you, in my brand new office- where I’m unit chief. This feels like a dream.” You gave her a soft smile, “It’s what you deserve, you’ve worked so hard to get here, em.” You told her comfortingly. She deserved everything she’s gotten so far, this promotion especially.

Emily couldn’t stop herself from smiling and blushing, it was the one thing you could always end up doing to her, make her melt. It was your superpower.

“I don’t think I deserve you sometimes,” She admitted after a beat of silence, you stayed quiet as you watched the gears turn behind her eyes. What was she trying to say?

“You’re too good to me.” Emily settled on saying after a moment of thinking, “Seriously, this entire month I’ve been swamped with shit and you’ve just been fucking amazing to me and...” she trailed off, sighing.

“You can’t control the fact so much happened.” You offered up. Because it’s true, everything just started randomly, and now she was here. “I can’t,” Emily acknowledged, nodding. “But I can control how much I talk to you. And it’s not as nearly as much as I’d like it to be, baby, I’m sorry.”

She continued; “I’ve not been doing enough for you. I love you. I don’t care about work half as much as I care about you. I don’t want this month to last any longer, I just want to be with you; watching stupid rom coms and eating takeout with you and cuddling with you and Sergio at night, like how we do when I’m not on a case.” She rambled on towards the end, but her statement was clear.

“You don’t have to say work isn’t as important, I know especially with the promotion-“ you started, ready to excuse Emily’s apology. Because she didn’t necessarily have to apologize, but her being busy had affected you both.

She cut you off, however, “You are the only person who has made me believe I can have a life outside of my work. You’re the only person I want to spend time with, babe. Everyone on the team is mandatory, and I love them, but not like I love you. You’re my everything, you’re...” she trailed off, needing a second to find the words.

“You’re my world. At this point, I don’t want to be here without you next to me.”

You couldn’t respond, you weren’t sure how. Emily’s love had always been intense and passionate. But now? It was mixing with an apology she didn’t need to give, and one you didn’t deserve to receive.

“If my work keeps me this late ever again, I’m stepping down.” Emily ended her monologue of sorts with that, an intense ending.

“Emily,” you spoke softly, “I don’t want you to give this up, this is good..” you said, looking around the office as if to further prove your girlfriend had achieved so much, and shouldn’t throw it away.

“If it gets between us, it isn’t any good.” Emily spoke easily, this wasn’t a decision in her mind. She had already come to this conclusion, when, you weren’t sure. Maybe it was just moments ago, or maybe it was on your seventh FaceTime call where you admitted you hated not seeing her in real time. You’d never know when, but all you knew now was that she was firm in her decision. And she never doubles back on a choice.

“Babe..” you whispered now, quieter than normal. You didn’t want to get in the way, and it felt like you were- but she was telling you that you weren’t.

“You’re my favorite part of the day. You’re my love.” Emily admitted easily, originally it had been hard for her to open up in your relationship. But once you had shown you’d stick around through everything, she opened up like a book. And now she had no shame within telling you how much she loved you. Sometimes she’d even say it in her sleep when you both would lay down after a long day of work, anxieties, losses. She’d still always keep you in the fore-front of her mind, you never knew how.

“...I love you..” was all you could muster up saying, you weren’t sure what else needed to be said. Or what you could say. It felt like everything was being whispered right now, as if either of you spoke too loud, something would break.

Emily’s soft smile never wavered as she got up from her chair, pushing it in, and rounding the desk to stand in front of you.

“Let’s get out of here, moya lyubov'.” She spoke softly, the universe still seemed so quiet within her office. You felt the heat rise to your face as you heard her say “moya lyubov'”, it was Russian for “my love”, and it was one of the few phrases Emily knew.

She always called you pet names, loving names, even in her sleep she’d say it. But moya lyubov' was a special phrase. It was for those nights when so much was wanting to be said, but you couldn’t come up with the words, and by the end you both would be gasping for air, holding each other close instead.

So, neither of you would have to speak for infinity. Because as much as it mattered, moya lyubov' covered it all. It meant, “I’m sorry”, and it meant “you’re beautiful”, and it meant “I’m the luckiest person alive”, and most of all, it meant; “I am yours, and you are mine”.

So, as Emily Prentiss called you moya lyubov', you knew what she meant exactly. And she needn’t say more.

———————————————————————

[hrtiu]

@flybynite19 come get your man.

Brit’ni haunted the long aisles of the Coruscant Public Convention Halls, her eyes darting from stall to stall. This was the biggest Galaxy of Heroes miniature convention in the Republic, and if she didn’t find it here, she wouldn’t find it anywhere. Finally, in a sketchy-looking booth in one of the auxiliary wings, she saw it.

It was perfect. A mint-condition figure with articulated arms, first-edition armor, and no helmet. It was almost impossible to find a figure of Captain Tabbard without a helmet, and Brit’ni couldn’t wait to get her hands on it. 

She reached out. “How much for-?”

Another hand grabbed the package just before her, blocking her fingers from her prize.

“What’s the price?” the interloper asked.

Brit’ni turned on her rival, ready to throw hands if necessary. “Excuse me! I was here first!”

A Human man blinked back at her from behind huge, yellow-tinted goggles. “As you can see, my hand reached the package first. I believe that means I have dibs.”

“Look, buddy. Just because you have slightly faster twitch reflexes than me doesn’t mean you get this figure. I’ve been looking for it for forever and I saw it first. Run along.” She tightened her grip around his bony fingers and shot him a death glare, then flicked her gaze to the shopkeeper. 

The Ithorian man backed away slowly and raised his hands, his translator sputtering out his apologies. “The price is 70 credits. Whoever can pay gets it. Don’t drag me into this.”

“Please let go of my purchase,” the Human in the goggles said. “I don’t have time for this.”

“I’m not letting go until Captain Tabbard is in my bag. Got it, Goggles?”

He wrinkled his nose and shook his head disapprovingly. “This stalemate is productive to neither of us. I propose a compromise.”

“What, you get the head, I get the body? No way.”

“As humorous as that would be, I was thinking something more mutually beneficial. You seem to be an avid collector, and I have several pieces that might be of interest to you.”

Brit’ni leaned closer to him, but didn’t loosen her grip on the figure. “Something more interesting than a first-edition Captain Tabbard? I don’t think so.”

“If you’re a fan of Captain Tabbard, I’d imagine you also enjoy the Chandrilan Guard. But there aren’t any figures for the standard Chandrilan Guard armor. I happen to have a custom pattern made for their armor. I’d be willing to share as many molds as you’d like if you are interested in creating the whole set.”

Brit’ni salivated at the thought. A whole set of custom CG figures? She’d been doing her best to make her own over the years, but with new resources… She’d be unstoppable.

“You have my attention…”

“We split the cost, 50/50. We store the figure in a locker at Coruscant Central. Then we meet up next week. I show you the goods and we decide on the deal. If you don’t want my customs, you take the figure and we go our separate ways. If you do, we make the trade.”

Brit’ni narrowed her eyes at him. “It didn’t take you very long to come up with this plan.”

He shrugged. “I’m smart.”

Brit’ni leaned closer to him, staring him right in those yellow-tinted eyes. She wasn’t in the habit of trusting strangers on a planet like Coruscant—especially not lately. But she really wanted those customs. 

“Deal.”

---

“Your name is Tech?” Brit’ni asked doubtfully as they walked down to the magtrain platform together.

“That’s what I just said.”

“Ok, sure,” Brit’ni said. What was it to her if he gave her a fake name? They didn’t need to be best buddies or anything.

“We live in a galaxy of billions of planets, populated by thousands of unique species, each with their own distinctive regional subcultures. I don’t see why ‘Tech’ should be a particularly unusual name, considering.”

Brit’ni laughed and shook her head. “Ok, now I get where you got your name.”

They swiped their muni chits and stepped onto the waiting magtrain, finding a spot near the back where they could both comfortably hold to the hand rails. It was a weekend so the train wasn’t as crowded as it would be during rush hour, but Brit’ni still barely felt like she had room to breathe. Just a few inches from her, Tech’s eyes darted back and forth across the magtrain car and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“New to Coruscant?” she asked.

He looked up in surprise, like he’d forgotten she was there. “...Yes.” His expression was oddly guarded, and Brit’ni raised her hands reassuringly.

“You just look like I did when I was still new to the magtrains. Eventually you’ll get used to the close quarters.”

His shoulders relaxed and he nodded. “So many variables, with all these people around. Too many unknowns for my taste. And sentient life is so… unpredictable.”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d put it quite like that but I think I get you. There’s a reason we collect little plastoid figures, right?”

A single eyebrow peaked out above Tech’s goggles and he tapped his chin thoughtfully. “I hadn’t thought about it like that before, but perhaps you are right.”

The magtrain shuddered as it rounded a turn on the old track, and Brit’ni clutched her precious Captain Tabbard tighter to herself.

Why so much interest in Captain Tabbard?” Tech asked. “Some figures are rare because of their popularity, but he was simply rarely produced due to lack of interest.”

Brit’ni bristled like he was insulting her toddling infant. “He’s the best character!”

“I understood that most fans of the serials disliked him because of his treachery.”

“Treachery?” she scoffed. “That’s not treachery. He had good reason to be loyal to both the Old Republic and Tiberian Empire. It was his conflict that made him interesting. And in the end he chose what was right. That’s what makes a good character. Conflict. Struggle. Then overcoming in the end.”

“I suppose.”

“What about you, then? Who’s your favorite character?”

“In Galaxy of Heroes? I don’t know—never seen it.”

Brit’ni’s jaw dropped. “Then why were you ready to fight me over this figure?”

He shrugged. “I’m a completionist. This is the last one I need to complete the set. You know they’re more valuable together, right?”

She just stared at him. Her eyes trailed down to his booted feet, up his khaki slacks, past his drab, navy-colored tunic, and back to those big, yellow-tinted eyes. Who was this guy?

“Deal’s off,” she said.

“What?”

“I can’t give Captain Tabbard to… to someone who won’t appreciate him.”

“I appreciate him! He’s a first edition, mint-condition, ultra-rare piece that will complete my collection! How much more appreciation can you get than that?”

“No.” Brit’ni shook her head. “You’re not worthy.”

Tech pursed his lips and huffed through his nose.”Well I still paid for half of that figure, so what do you suggest we do? Cut it in half?”

She recoiled in horror. “No! I’ll pay you the 35 credits and I take the figure. It’s as simple as that.”

“That’s unacceptable. You have to at least give me a chance to meet your criteria.”

“How could you possibly do that?”

“By watching Galaxy of Heroes. I watch it, I tell you my favorite character, I show my appreciation for Captain Tabbard.”

“Or I could just take Captain Tabbard home now, and have a figure of my very favorite character to display proudly on my shelf.”

The magtrain slowed and a cheery voice emanated from the intercom. “Coruscant Central.”

“We’re at the station,” Tech said. “I suggest you get off, because I assure you my Chandrilan Guard figures are very good.”

He stepped off the train and Brit’ni bit her lip, her grip tightening on the handlebar as she watched. “Ah, sithspit,” she cursed under her breath, and hopped off the train just as the doors closed.

She hurried to catch up to him—he set a surprisingly quick pace considering how scrawny he looked under those pants—and he tilted his head in her direction in acknowledgment.

“Glad you decided to join me,” he said.

“I really want those CG customs. I’ve been saving up for materials for forever but they’re expensive and my job doesn’t believe in working hours that give me enough time to sleep and eat.”

Tech frowned. “What kind of job is that? It seems like a sub-optimal way to treat your employees.”

“I work at one of the Imperial training facilities. I get to clean up after all the sweaty recruits in the exercise halls. It smells and I hate my life.”

He tensed almost imperceptibly at her side and Brit’ni tried not to notice. Plenty of people on Coruscant didn’t like the Empire, but a job was a job. And Captain Tabbard wasn’t going to pay for himself.

“That sounds… unpleasant. I hope you are able to find alternate forms of employment sometime soon.”

“Yeah, me too. But there aren’t too many options these days,” she said with a sigh. “If I had my way I’d be working in the archives or curating the Imperial Historical Society. I have the training for it, too! But I guess they only need a handful of people to do that, and they need thousands to clean the stormtroopers’ locker rooms.”

He nodded sagely, and she wondered if she was saying too much. Scratch that—she was definitely saying too much. But any time her job came up she couldn’t help but try to distance herself from it. To distance herself from the Empire.

“I also wish I could spend my days doing research and furthering our understanding of the universe. But unfortunately I don’t have that luxury,” Tech said.

Brit’ni looked at him out of the corner of her eye, surprised at the wistfulness in his voice. Maybe she’d judged him too harshly. A completionist who’d never watched Galaxy of Heroes he might be, but they might have more in common than she’d thought. He gave the station map a quick once-over, pushing his goggles up his nose as he read the map, and she couldn’t help but notice how oddly endearing the action was. She cursed herself. She’d always had a weakness for hopeless nerds.

They wound their way through the labyrinthine corridors of Coruscant’s largest magtrain station, and Tech seemed to know every turn and forgotten corner. He took them down another flight of stairs to the lower levels, where the storage lockers were, and a squirmy feeling started to bubble up in Brit’ni’s stomach. Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to follow a stranger down into the depths of Coruscant Central without telling anyone where she was. But something about Tech felt oddly comforting. Condescending and annoying, yes, but also kind of nice.

Brit’ni cleared her throat and tried to dispel her sudden nerves. “So… what do you do, then?”

“I’m a tech specialist,” he answered immediately.

Brit’ni furrowed her brows. “A tech specialist? Are you military?”

He looked at her like he’d forgotten she was there, then shook his head, oddly flustered. “No, I mean… I do holo repair, comm device repair, droid maintenance—that sort of thing.”

“Oh.” Sure he did.

“It’s, uh, not very glamorous, but it pays the bills,” he said, tacking on an awkward laugh like the world’s worst holo actor.

Brit’ni resisted the urge to roll her eyes. I promise you, dude. Whatever your secrets are, they aren’t nearly as interesting as you think. She found herself wishing he’d just be honest with her, then reminded herself that she didn’t care. She didn’t. He was just a means to the end of collecting Captain Tabbard, not an strangely cute guy she wanted to learn more about.

They approached a squat Rodian manning the checkout counter for locker rentals and paid up.

“And can we get two locks, please?” Brit’ni asked. She needed some assurance that Tech wasn’t just going to come back later, open their locker, and leave.

The Rodian shrugged and tossed them another lock. “Sure.”

They walked down the aisle of lockers and found theirs—locker number 9999. Tech gave a weird smile at the number, but Brit’ni ignored it and opened the locker, carefully placing Captain Tabbard inside and giving him one last look of longing before closing the locker on his beautiful, first-edition face.

They both stuck their locks on the door, and Brit’ni pulled out her portable comm device.

“What’s your comm signature?” she asked.

“I don’t see that that’s necessary.”

“Sure it is. What if I can’t make our meeting time? What if you decide to watch Galaxy of Heroes but its themes and storyline are too complex for you to follow? What if you decide to back out and just want to give me your lock key so I can pick the Captain up?”

He frowned. “Alright, then.”

They swapped comm signatures and Brit’ni stuck her hand out to shake. Tech hesitated a moment, like he wasn’t sure what to do with it, then took her hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” Brit’ni said with a firm, professional shake.

“Likewise.”

---

A few days later Brit’ni staggered home from her shift at the training facility with a deep and abiding exhaustion in her bones. She swiped open the door to the small apartment she shared with her younger sister and stumbled through the dark room, determined not to turn on the lights. Her sister was already asleep and Brit’ni knew she had an early shift the next morning.

Brit’ni shed her uniform, took a quick shower, and fell into bed. She could easily have fallen asleep right then and there, but she hated going to sleep right after getting home from work. It felt like giving up—like acknowledging that all there was to her life right now was sleep and work. She rolled over onto her side and pulled out her comm device, checking for messages. There were a few from her mom, a couple of taunting inside jokes from her sister, and… one from a signature she didn’t immediately recognize. 

She opened the message, convinced it was some kind of advertisement but curious nonetheless.

I am happy to report that my viewing of Galaxy of Heroes has commenced. Will keep you updated on my progress. -T

A surprised smile rose to her lips. Maybe her evening would be a little more interesting than usual, after all.

She gave it some thought, then typed a response. The first episode is great, but the rest of the first season is a little slow. Make sure you keep watching to season 3.

She pulled out a datapad and scrolled mindlessly through several news updates. There was never anything interesting anymore—not since the Empire had taken over. All the updates felt like propaganda, but there was nothing else to read. Then her comm device pinged.

Then why don’t I just skip straight to season 3? I don’t understand how people can be such fans of a program while disliking a significant percentage of the content. -T

She snorted. Don’t skip to season 3! I thought you were a completionist.

He responded immediately. Fair point. -T

Deciding to let him focus on the show, Brit’ni rolled out of bed, determined to do something useful with the evening before calling it a night. She pulled a case of her in-progress figures out from under her bed and hauled them over to the small work desk she’d set up in the corner. She had some painting to do.

Commander Fes’s helmet was beautiful. The design etched across its surface was gorgeous, with intricately weaving strips of color and textures. That also made it an absolute beast to paint, and Brit’ni extricated her tiniest brushes from the bottom of her brush bag. 

Eyes straining with the microscopic details, she labored over the good commander’s helmet for a solid half hour before setting her tools down in frustration. She glowered at the thumb-sized helmet, as if her anger would force it to cooperate better, and reached for her comm device.

What paint do you use for your customs? she sent Tech. For the fine details? I feel like I’m going crazy with Commander Fes’s helmet.

I don’t hand-paint details that small. I have a three dimensional stamper, so I design the decals at full size then use the stamper to apply them. -T

Huh. Brit’ni had heard of tools like that, but most collectors had to make them themselves. It wasn’t a simple or easy thing to put together.

I’ve always wanted to use one of those! Did you follow the Talatar template or the Bikqwik one?

Neither. I made my own design, though to be fair the base design was inspired more by the Bikqwik one. -T

Maybe I should make one. I’d love to get those fine details right, but I don’t know if I have the time to figure it out or the money for all the pieces.

That’s understandable. I was able to use leftover pieces from my work, so it wasn’t so expensive for me. -T

Images of a perfectly-painted Commander Fes helmet floated through Brit’ni’s mind, and she had half a mind to ask him to lend her his printer. That would probably be too much, though. She was considering what she should say next when Tech sent her another message.

It’s nice to talk to another collector about customs and painting. My colleagues are not very interested. -T

Brit’ni laughed. Same! My sister and mom indulge me, but they definitely don’t care as much as I do.

She set her comm device down and refocused her attention on Commander Fes’s helmet. It might be nice to use a three dimensional stamper, but this was what she had to work with for now. And as she focused in on the tiny design, she had to admit that it was turning out pretty well.

She soon fell into a groove so deep she hardly noticed the next half hour fly by. Then her comm device pinged again, breaking her from her painting trance.

I’m going to sleep now, but I’m happy to report that I’ve finished season one. -T

Brit’ni’s brows rose. You finished a whole season in one night?

I’m watching it at double speed. -T

That’s cheating!

When you demanded I watch the show you did not specify a required playback speed. -T

Do I have to specify things that should be obvious??

Goodnight, Brit’ni. -T

No longer in the mood to paint, Brit’ni set Commander Fes’s tiny helmet on a stand to dry, then packed up her materials. She crawled into bed and set her alarm, her eyes already heavy with how tired she’d be in the morning. Still, it had been a pleasant night.

---

The week flew by, and Brit’ni was so busy with work she hardly had any time to work on her figures or chat with Tech. Every once in a while he messaged her with updates on his viewing progress, and he was burning through Galaxy of Heroes at an alarming rate. His last message he sent the morning of the day they’d agreed to meet back up at the station—a simple statement that he’d finished the series. 

Brit’ni wanted to ask him his thoughts, who his favorite character was, and what he thought of the infamous plot twist in season seven, but instead she’d had to run off to work. By the time her shift ended, she was excited to hop on the magtrain and head to Coruscant Central not only to finally see his promised customs, but also to talk to him. Funny, that.

She walked down into the lower levels of the station and quickly found locker 9999. Tech was already there, typing away on some kind of datapad built into his wristguard. Brit’ni didn’t think he’d worn that the last time they’d met, but she also couldn’t really depend on her memory.

“Hey!” she called out, and he looked up from his datapad.

“Excellent. Right on time.” 

He swung his backpack off his shoulders and rummaged through it, pulling out a carefully labelled black box as she approached.

“Are those the custom molds?” Brit’ni asked eagerly.

“Yes.” He opened the box and she could swear the box was glowing from the inside like some kind of mythic treasure.

“I have molds for the standard shock trooper, captain, commander, and the recon units. Four molds in all.”

With a reverent hand, Brit’ni lifted the silicoid molds from their case. The detail work was exquisite, the edges sharp and defined. “I just pour in molding plastoid and let it cool?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes, that should work adequately.”

She stared for a minute longer, her fingers running over each groove and divet. They were perfect. “Alright, you have a deal.”

“No, but… I haven’t told you about Galaxy of Heroes yet…” Tech said, confused.

“That’s alright, the molds are enough-”

“I watched that entire series in a week. I’m going to tell you about it,” he snapped.

Brit’ni shut the case with the molds and stepped back from him a pace, her eyebrows raised. “Alright then, do you see now why Captain Tabbard is the best?”

“He’s such a minor character, it’s hard for me to understand why he is your favorite. But I do see the nuance and conflict that you mentioned earlier. I can see why you admire him.”

“Who’s your favorite, then?” It had better not be that awful Alduous Rux. Or even worse: Leve Bontera.

“K3WO was my favorite, I believe,” he said.

“The droid? Really?” she asked, though as soon as the words left her mouth she had to admit that it made a certain sort of sense.

“Yes. He always remained level-headed, he was intelligent, but he had his own personality. He was my favorite.”

“Ok, fine, I get it. But what about your favorite organic character?”

“Why does it have to be an organic character?”

“Do you have to argue everything I say?”

“It’s not arguing if-” 

Tech suddenly cut off, his eyes darting down the hall, and Brit’ni followed his gaze. Two stormtroopers had stepped off the landing and were making their way towards locker 9999. Tech glanced quickly away from them, but the tension in his shoulders was clear. 

Brit’ni saw the problem immediately. They looked like they were making some kind of illicit deal here, exchanging goods in the basement of Coruscant Station. The misunderstanding could be easily cleared up under normal circumstances, but Tech obviously didn’t want any attention from Imperials.

Thinking fast, Brit’ni clutched the black case of molds to her chest. “Oh, honey! You shouldn’t have!”

Tech stared doubtfully back at her through his goggles, his eyes growing wide enough to fill the lenses as she grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him to her.

“What are you-” he hissed.

She pressed her mouth to his before he could give them away, her hands snaking around his back to make sure he didn’t pull away while the stormtroopers were still watching. She worried that she might have to fight him the entire time, which would both make her feel like the worst kind of swamp scum and would also make this significantly less enjoyable. But then he relaxed into the kiss and set his hands at her waist, his long fingers careful and hot against her skin. He picked her up by the waist and spun them around, pressing her back into the lockers. Then he kissed up the side of her neck. Heated shivers ran up Brit’ni’s body, and she wondered if maybe she’d gotten in way over her head.

“Good thinking,” he whispered into her ear once he reached the top of her neck. “My apologies for not realizing sooner.”

“Th-that’s fine,” she stuttered, looking over his shoulder to check for the stormtroopers. They were still there. “Still got eyes.”

He nodded, then kissed her again, this time sliding a hand up her back to run his fingers through her hair. She pressed herself further into him, finding surprisingly firm, defined muscle under his plain clothing. Brit’ni doubted that there was an electronics repairman this athletic in the entire galaxy, and the mystery that was Tech just seemed to deepen with each passing moment. 

Then one of Tech’s hands slipped lower on her waist and all coherent thought fled from Brit’ni’s mind. Her teeth caught on his bottom lip and she tugged gently. He started against her, and she took that as encouragement. Then she slipped her tongue into his mouth, and he started again, this time jerking away from her in surprise. 

Brit’ni’s gaze darted to where she’d last seen the stormtroopers and, Force be damned, there they still were. Staring like a bunch of touch-starved morons.

“What are you looking at, you karking pervs!” she shouted at them.

The troopers flinched away like she’d hit them, then sputtered something about their patrol route and orders to “carry on.” They turned back the way they went and soon enough they were up the stairs and out of sight.

Brit’ni let out a heavy sigh of relief and let her weight lean back against the lockers behind her. “Well, that was a lot closer than it needed to be.”

“Yes,” Tech said, a healthy dusting of red high on his cheeks. “Thank you, by the way. I’d rather avoid Imperial entanglements.”

“Wouldn’t we all?” she said with a wry twist of the mouth.

“And, uh… My apologies, for losing my grip earlier. I… well I have never engaged in kissing before.”

Brit’ni sat up straight at that, her eyes going wide. “Really?” she asked, her skin still tingling from where he’d run his hands up her back. “You could have fooled me.”

“Well, I’ve seen plenty of holos,” he said, shrugging with one shoulder. “The mechanics of it seem simple enough. But, um. I didn’t really know what to expect in terms of sensation.”

“Ah,” Brit’ni said, feeling the heat rising in her own cheeks. “Well, it all worked out in the end.”

“That it did. Now if we could exchange goods?”

“Sure.”

They each unlocked their locks and there Captain Tabbard was, safe in his perfectly-preserved box. Tech handed her back her 35 credit share of the price, then lifted Captain Tabbard carefully from the locker. Brit’ni checked the CG molds Tech had given her one more time, then closed and locked the case.

“I guess we’re done, then,” she said, suddenly not sure where to put her hands.

“A pleasure,” Tech said, and she couldn’t help but wonder if there was some secret meaning hidden behind the quirk of his lips.

“A pleasure.”

---

A few days later, Brit’ni dragged herself to work feeling particularly haggard. She went through the service entrance and changed into her ugly uniform, then jogged to her supervisor’s office just in time to clock in.

She punched the buttons that would start recording her time, then started to walk away from the desk.

“Brit’ni? That you?” her supervisor asked, turning around in his swivel chair. He was a pale, sleight Human who’d barely spoken three words to Brit’ni before today.

She turned back to him slowly, her body already tensing to expect the worst. “Yes, sir?”

“You have a package.”

“A package?”

“Yeah.” He got up from his desk and pulled a drab grey box out from under the counter, sliding it towards Brit’ni with a look of perfect unconcern on his face. “Someone dropped it off early this morning for you.”

“Oh…” That was strange. In earlier years Brit’ni had liked surprises like this, but ever since the Empire… Well, let’s just say that most surprises were bad ones these days.

She took the package back to the locker room and set it down on one of the durasteel benches. Carefully, like she was defusing a bomb, she opened it up. Inside, the perfectly-painted face of Captain Tabbard stared up at her, a bright orange piece of flimsi stuck to his box just over his chest.

Dear Brit’ni,

Thank you for the other day. I should have just given this to you at the time, but I’m afraid I wasn’t thinking very clearly. I hope our paths cross again.

-T

A slow smile crept across Brit’ni’s face, and she picked up Captain Tabbard, holding his box to her chest. She knew she and Tech’s paths would cross again. She’d make sure of it.

[jostepherjoestar]

I remember someone suggesting about the La Squadra child being Abbacchio or Mista’s nephew/niece and I was wondering if it’s ok to ask how would (I’m gonna go with Abbacchio) react to that?. Maybe before joining the kid was just a above average intelligent child but was still normal and now Abbacchio is confused as to why their stoic, cold and with a group of assassins.

La Squadra Kid backstory and relation to Abbacchio + general HC’s

Thank you so much for asking this, I’ve been meaning to summarise their backstory and how they ended up with La Squadra! This will be kind of emotional since it’s bit tragic imo. There’s also going to be some HC’s about our little bud so you can all get a feel at how I see them 😊

Long post!

CW: heavier subjects such as trauma, not fun situations for a kid to be in and usual gang related violence, mentions of abortion and mental illness

General HC’s

I’ve always imagined them to be around 7 to 8 years old, but unfortunately due to all that’s happened, their mind has been forced to mature a lot faster. Of course they should have never had to go through that but life isn’t that simple, especially for them.

Their name is Pomo, like an apple or a pommel :) thought it was a fitting and cute name! I’ll still refer to them as La Squadra Kid in titles but opt for Pomo while writing.

Pomo is not that tall for their age, just cute lil bean with puffy cheeks! I’ve decided to keep Pomo’s pronouns neutral, it just seemed to click more.

As far as their personality goes it’s been fun discovering them through your asks! Pomo is a quiet and stoic kid, they don’t smile that often but that doesn’t mean they’re not enjoying themselves.

They love drawing things as a way to express their feelings or the things they like. It’s a lot easier than verbally communicating for them. They’ll say what they need with the least amount of words necessary.

They’ve developed a weird sense of humour, very dry I’d say lol, also thinks it’s funny to scare Ghiaccio, who they know secretly likes them.

Pomo is quite independent and goes out by themselves, their stand is very powerful and kinda scary, even to their colleagues so they can handle any trouble coming their way. Pomo is slowly learning that they don’t need to do everything alone (i.e. asking for company after nightmares)

Though going out alone can result in people turning Pomo away in shops, that’s why Melone is their choice to bring along so it’s not weird a kid is just out alone spending money.

They’re also very glad to do tasks or things the others ask of them, they crave harmony and peace at home so Pomo will try to help achieve that in any way possible (unfortunately this is a result of trauma).

Pomo really likes La Squadra and sees them as their family now, knowing what member is better at offering different types of things and who to turn to for specific needs.

Their stand’s is named My Way (マイウェイ) after the Frank Sinatra song. It fits quite nicely imo, a force to be reckoned with doing it on their own terms.

And lastly, they do not like hugs or being touched that much. They’ll allow hand holding but only if they’re in a good mood, quick head pats are also ok. It really is touch and go with them, Pomo will let you know when they don’t like something.

Backstory and relation to Abbacchio

The world moved in a blur, the two lines on every single pregnancy test strewn out before her like nails getting hammered into her coffin. Suffocating while it was lowered into the ground, scratching and screaming for air, nails bloodied and raw as the reality set in that she was unmistakably pregnant. The panic followed, clenching her chest like a vice, threatening to shatter her heart and lungs in the process, gasping for air and wishing any other truth than this one. Abbacchio’s older sister wept for days, dark circles alternating with red swollen puffiness as the life she’d just started on her own already began to crumble.

The father of her child taking his exit as soon as she confessed her situation, knowing before she’d even tell him that he’d swiftly let her suffer in the mess. The thought of looking a doctor in the eyes, the cruel conversations she would have to endure before they’d let her suffer in uncertainty of the fate of her unborn child, making her choose to just endure it instead. Not that the choice would offer a softer outcome, it was her burden to bare, she thought. Whatever horrible things she’s done to receive such heartless judgement never occurred to her. The only thing the young woman was convinced of, is that she whole heartedly deserved it.

Her younger brother, growing up to be an impressionable adolescent, unsure how to care for his beloved sibling. His eyes always so full of innocent wonderment at his older sister, wanting to become as brave and independent as her. Living alone, working strenuous hours as if only this would make him worthy of the meagre salary of a rookie police officer. Slowly but surely he saw the woman he so admired creep away as her belly grew larger each month. Coming by often to check up on her wellbeing after school, spending nights or even weeks so he’d be by her side. All the while finishing up in high school. As his sister’s expression grew darker, the smiles fading and her laughter but a distant memory Leone Abbacchio could do nothing but stand by and let her lean on him.

The meagre support their parents could offer did little too ease her mind, the reality of becoming a mother and having nothing but emptiness to offer her child digging her ever deeper into the darkness that consumed her. She sobbed the day her child was born, little Pomo’s big eyes asking her if she was even worthy to hold the small babe. Every look at the child reminding her she had already failed, not even able to comfort their cries before feedings. Incapable of shushing them and finding the strength to coo at those tiny hands that ached to play and accept the warm touch of a caregiver. The young mother did what she needed, feeding the child and changing diapers. The depth of her troubles never easing as she had to go back to work, two different jobs needed to support herself and Pomo.

Abbacchio offered what he could, often babysitting and spending weekends at his sister’s cramped apartment. A child taking care of an even smaller one. The hope he held that his sister would regain her previous lust for life faltered. It only seemed to worsen as Pomo grew. The child never overtly fussed or cried, sleeping soundly and cooing gently whenever hungry. Those big eyes always seeming to bore straight through whoever leaned over the basinet to admire them. The child’s mother wished for it all to end, every night she’d pray to any god who would hear her desperate calls. But as she did only further hurting herself, her pleading like whips claiming penitence on her heavy shoulders.

She begged her younger brother to go out and make his dreams come true. “Never let your resolve falter Leone. Ever.” The voice that brought him courage, the broken woman’s words reminding him of the image he so admired once. But in pursuing his career as an officer it would mean less and less time to care for his dwindling sister and her child.

The night she told him the sisters of their local convent would relieve her of her child, the young officer held his sister for hours. The tears they cried filling an endless well of sorrow. It hadn’t brought the relief she thought she would feel, not a feather lighter as her child would be in more capable hands. Caregivers who weren’t afraid to look the toddler in the eyes as they searched your very soul for meaning. At merely four years old dear Pomo lay gently asleep in a different cot, in a stony building smelling of earth, heated by creaky copper pipes while sisters prayed in unison with beaded necklaces intertwining their palms. Praying for deliverance.

Abbacchio came by whenever he could, becoming more and more weary of his actions and the people he swore to protect as his career started to lack the fervour it had when he started out. Seeing Pomo grow into a silent and demure child, laconically learning to read and write, quietly pleading the sisters not to let their touch on their skin linger. Every stroke burning with an unknown memory that someone once held them, just once and decided to never do it again. Their very skin warding off any unwanted contact without even knowing why. A locked memory with a firm grasp on their being.

“Never let your resolve falter, Pomo. Ever.” The last words spoken to the small child before leaving. The lonely child left in the suffocating confines of the convent. Their uncle wouldn’t return for a long time, days spent hoping to see a sliver of his stark hair and bright eyes that had seemed to dull over time. But the child would never forget those words. Not even as the head sister punished them for not answering when spoken to, not when she would order them to remain on the prayer bench for hours as punishment, knees aching to settle as they were forced to remain. Their eyes boring through the other sisters as they came and joined them at their usual hours of worship.

Restraining the stand they were born with from acting out, self control being trained as they kept going, determined to let their uncle’s last words not be wasted on them. In the free time Pomo was allowed, they’d test out whatever the ghostly figure could, standing taller than them with thick black fog-like tentacles resting behind their back. Whatever those touched seemed to shrivel up like roses in wintertime. Pomo was intelligent, interested in more subjects than just his schooling that only seemed to bore them. The ease of the material offering no challenge as they completed tests with full marks, only making the head sister grow suspicious of them and unleashing more punishment.

Men in extravagant suits would visit the convent every so often, hushed whispers as they walked by the child who’d stoically stare as they passed. They’d always ignore them, scared of the glare and aura the child had started emitting. Many of the sisters had rejected the offer to tutor them when the previous one excused herself, feeling too uneasy by Pomo’s being. It didn’t hurt them, they just kept on doing what the sisters asked of them. Stay tidy, study and don’t get in their way. They had accepted their silence and aversion to touch, growing scared to try anything after the entire courtyard greenery was found shrivelled and dead mid spring. Every freshly planted flower grey and sad, the grass as crunchy as if it had just been burned to ashes. Pomo was sat comfortably on the stone bench that was placed there to admire the garden’s beauty. It wasn’t that they wanted it to happen. Someone just came too close and made them panic, not that it was clear to the sister that accidentally grabbed their shoulders while moving past them, the child remained calm, instead letting their stand take care of the burning sensation that crept over their body.

It was one of those days where a well dressed man would come by and whisper secretively with the sisters as they strode towards a private room and remained there until it was time to leave in an equal hurry. But this time a relaxed gentleman stepped out of the room with a large huff, stretching his neck and groaning loudly as he did. The taps of his heeled shiny shoes echoed through the stony arches of the hallway that led to the courtyard where Pomo had been toying a blade of grass between their fingers. Intensely staring at the green colour that stained his pads while their stand loomed over them freely. As the steps drew nearer, the child paid them no mind, instead grabbing a new blade and continuing the process all over. Soft padded steps made their way over casually until a large shadow covered Pomo. Hands rested in his pocked while his arms pushed back the sides of the loose suit jacket. The cigarette dangling from his lips bobbing after he took another intoxicating drag, puffing out the air harshly while peering at the kid.

“And who might you two be?” The man sunk down to a crouch, inspecting a small daisy that stuck out between the sea of green blades. “Pomo.” The child stopped rolling the tuft of grass as they processed his words. Two. Never had they met another who could see the figure that was their only friend. Unsure if the man posed a threat, he exuded a certain cocky confidence they weren’t sure they liked. “Nice to meet you Pomo. That other one looks a bit scary, don’t you think? But then again, you must be too. D’you mind showing me what they can do?” Offering a gentle chuckle as he gently pried, curious to see what this lonesome child could do, never having witnessed someone so young possessing a stand. It sure peaked the man’s interest as he twirled the daisy between his digits.

The amount of precision they possessed shocked him as the daisy was shot with a quick tap of a foggy black tentacle. It crumbled under his pads as he pressed it, letting it fall back onto the earth. Impressed by the ability and thoroughly interested in what it could do for him, the man proceeded. “Have you even killed someone with that?” There was no need to beat around the bush, that much was obvious when the child never seemed to have moved from their position, merely staring at the ground before them. A slow methodical dark tendril crept towards the man, stopping an inch before his polished shoe. Pomo turned their gaze upwards now, offering a look so unreadably neutral it made the man’s heart beat faster in fear, his many years in Passione not having prepared him to face another that lacked fear as much as the child in front of him. “Do you like it here, Pomo?”

A proposal started taking form in the man’s head, one he’d have to discus with his boss before acting on it. “No.” Clear as a bell their voice made a sinister hope grow, a hope that it would only take as little as just asking them to join up with Passione to get his desired answer. As an Advisor he’d have little hurdles in his way before bringing up the idea to his boss, being one of the only few allowed to even directly communicate with the mysterious man. “You seem fearless, to an unsettling degree, kid. If I asked you to kill a guy, would you?” Somehow the direct communication had been the most pleasant conversation Pomo has had in a few years, be it of a morally ambiguous subject, but refreshing to have another respect their space and not be afraid to ask what they desired of them.

“Are they bad?” The amount of troubling honesty behind the child’s harsh gaze making the man believe he’d met his fate, it had been like Pomo was asking if he deserved to live another moment, their stand still remaining at the tip of his shoe. “Not in their own opinion.” Clearing his throat to regain any sort of confidence, the kid’s eyes skipping through the pages of his soul, weighing his sins and good deeds. In reality they were doing no such thing, only weighing their options, grown tired of the convent and its inhabitants, aching to find any sort of family or support without even knowing it. “Ok.” As they gave their answer they chose to retract their stand, ending the conversation without another word. The Advisor’s sigh of relief deeper than any he had before, glad to be able to continue living.

The Boss was feeling generous, letting his Advisor know that placing the child amongst the men of La Squadra Esecuzioni could serve them well, perhaps make them regain any semblance of respect in the organisation. Opting out of putting their deadly stand in his personal Unità Speciale, fearing the effects of Cioccolata or Secco would build a threat larger than himself. Pomo agreed immediately, knowing it would be best to leave the sisters behind to pray for the child’s deliverance. Making their own money, be it a scanty salary, living with a group of other misfits and taking care of jobs here and there did not sound like the worst future for them. The sisters, terrified at the transfer, having no clue what the mafia would even want with the child, did not let the only person on the outside that cared for them know about the move. Too afraid of the consequences.

But after joining with Bucciarati, Abbacchio held great shame, afraid to face his sister’s child with those eyes that understood too much at such a young age. Fearing any visit would involve them with the tricky business he got entangled in, the little one becoming a distant and painful memory. If only he knew.

Further events take place after part 5 where everyone survives and La Squadra works under Don Giovanna. At Risotto’s request Pomo was left out of the fights regarding Trish and the Bucci gang.

While out with Melone to buy some more markers, Abbacchio felt like he’d seen a ghost. The familiar figure of his sister’s child standing next to a Passione assassin Bruno had fought not that long ago while he excitedly pointed out stuffed animals through the toyshop’s window. “Pomo?” Abbacchio had crept closer, carefully assessing if it were smart to approach. Melone had turned before Pomo could, eyeing the familiar gangster before him. “What do you need with Pomo?” Melone’s features hardened into a scowl while searching for their hand. All Pomo could do was stare up at their uncle they hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

“What’s going on, is everything alright Pomo?” That deep voice reminding them of when he last visited, the voice that told them to never let their resolve falter, ever. “First of all, answer my question. What do you want with them?” Melone stepped forward, never one to initiate conflicts but needing an explanation as to why Leone Abbacchio knew their teammate that had explicitly never been in contact with his side of Passione. “That’s my sister’s kid. Step down you idiot. I’m not here to start shit. Now answer me; what are they doing with you?” Abbacchio growled back at the lithe man, searching Pomo’s eyes for an answer. “Pomo is part of our team. Been so for almost a year now.” He calmed down as he remembered all the fond memories they’d made together, even after the horrible fights with the other gangster’s team.

The amount of shock and confusion Abbacchio felt was immeasurable. After many “what”’s and “how”’s Melone calmly explained that Pomo had quite the powerful stand and still wanted to be part of their squad. “We ask every once in a while if they still want this. Never said no so far.” Melone practically beamed, the other man still trying to process the explanation. Pomo quickly understood their uncle’s position as well, clearly another member of Passione as they connected the dots. That small kid has never hurt anyone -that he knew of- and now they’re an assassin already in possession of a stand? What the actual fuck. His knees began to feel weak, looking for support as he slid down the toyshop’s windowsill. “I’m sorry.” Hands scrambling at his scalp while he stared at the ground, despair filling every inch of his being. Another person he cared about thrown into the complicated landscape of Passione.

The little one reached out their hand at the man that had meant so much to them, one of the only ones to ever offer the child any semblance of a connection. Until Pomo met their new family. A soft pat on the uncle’s platinum strands, grazing the man’s overworked hands. Melone felt his intrusion, staring off into the crowd as he kept some distance, sure to be within ample reach; should anything happen.

Abbacchio had grown so much, learned that his life was worth living. Following his sisters’s advice to strengthen his resolve and to never let it falter like he did before joining Passione. But this one memory, this one being of the past had made its way back. The child he so lovingly took care of and the pain he felt to have left them behind crashing through him as he sat there. Remembering his capo’s words, his kindness and that look of care and understanding making him reach up to the little hand. Memories of them fussing over touches reminding him a hug wasn’t possible. As his eyes met Pomo’s, the ones that always understood the ones they looked in but never let you know what was being kept behind their own. “I’m sorry for leaving you.” He uttered, the small hand getting enveloped in his bigger ones, begging them for forgiveness. “I’ve missed you.” the child spoke, their expression ever unchanging as Abbacchio felt tears flood his eyes and spill onto his cheeks. The purple haired man that had been following along from a distance couldn’t help but blink away his feelings, pitying the small one.

“Never let your resolve falter.” Pomo repeated. The words they’d clung to, any semblance of purpose all pinned on the only advice they’ve ever received. “Ever.” Abbacchio replied, squeezing the small hand between his before wiping away the tears, his actions were forgiven but not forgotten. “Are you ready, kid?” Melone stepped back into reach, offering a hand to the man he’d called an enemy not too long ago, helping him up. A quick nod from the child, a sliver of relief finally being felt, their uncle was still safe and alive. “You know where to find us. Don’t hesitate to come.” Waving goodbye as they entered the store, Melone offering as much assurance he could muster for his now-colleague. But mostly in awe of the child’s strength, they really were something else, huh.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Emp-ire, “Deputy.”

Hope you are all having a good day, and I hope you enjoy the story :)

Sparks leapt into the air vanishing to blend in with the wide expanse of the night sky overhead. Spoons clattered and rattled against cans, as the small group of men sat under the stars eating their meager rations. Adam shifted feeling the weight of his new gun on the opposite hip from his old: McBride’s gun.

The Sheriff spooned another mouthful of ration under his mustache before grunting as if he had remembered something and reached behind him, pulling out a sheathed knife and tossing it over to Adam, “Believe that belongs to you.”

He caught it with one hand, and set the can he was eating from down beside his boot, pulling the knife from its sheath, only to see the familiar decorative glint. He felt his face flush a bit, and when he looked up at the sheriff, seeing the look on the man’s face he knew that he knew.

He opened his mouth to speak, “I am so sorry sheriff, I really had no idea what came over me, I-” The man’s booming laugh cut him off mid apology, “No need to apologize to me boy. That man was nothing better than a crawly little maggot in my book, and deserved a lot more than losing a knife.” He snorted and leaned back in his seat, “Why take it, though, you being such an upstanding citizen and all. Doesn’t seem to fit your profile.”

Adam, still a bit flushed, rubbed the back of his neck, “I…. well.”

That’s when Ramirez butted in, leaning over the fire and announcing in a very loud voice, “To impress a girl.”

Adam turned a sharp glare down on Ramirez who was grinnin fit to burst.

“A girl!” The sheriff exclaimed, “Now that is something, isn’t it. Why don’t you go ahead and tell us about this girl.”

Ramires rolled his eyes,”How about that time he dumped that girl, and decided to pine after her later.”

Adam glowered so hard at Ramirez he hoped he would explode, but when no spontaneous combustion occurred, he simply sighed and slouched down in his seat, “Look, not to get into too many details or seem sorry for myself, but I’m not exactly in a great mental headspace to…. To be dating right now. It isn’t fair to her, and I refuse to drag her into my mess, especially one she didn’t sign up for.”

Around the fire, he could see the other men rolling their eyes largely.

“If she’s any kind of woman, it wouldn’t matter..” One of them said, “A real woman’s always got your back, covers you blind spots, and she’s shooting when you reload. A real woman makes you a better man at the same time you make her a better woman…. Course that is assuming that you are any kind of man.’ Adam blew out through his cheeks long and drawn out, “Very poetic, deputy, but let's assume I’m not any kind of man…. At least not right now, and she doesn’t deserve that.” “And so what, did you hope to find your manhood out here with the roughians and the hooligans.” one of them asked motioning around at the planet behind him.

Adam sighed again, “Actually, no.” he motioned to Ramirez, “that one dragged me out here to cheer me up, but since we’ve been here, I’ve been threatened, had a horrible hangover, been kicked in the face, kidnapped, threatened, fallen off a horse, and been kicked in the face a second time.”

The group of men laughed, “Sounds like a good time!”

They laughed, and he laughed with them.

“Anyway, she likes weapons, loves them actually, any kind, so it made me think of her, and I thought that when I get back, maybe my apology would go better if I soften her up first.”

The men eyed each other, “Or give her a weapon to carve you up with in her rage.”

He snorted and smiled slightly, “I guess you’re right about that. Anyway, I don’t expect to get her back, not really, but I at least want to say sorry, man up and explain to her why I did what I did. I was so messed up at the time, that I didn’t really provide a good explanation, and I think she deserved to know the truth. I am hoping this is a case of better late than never, and not a case of too little too late.”

Ramirez sighed and shook his head but let it go.

The sheriff watched him with some interest, head tilted this way and that, scrutinizing him as if he was some strange looking crustation the man had found under a rock.

He stared down at the knife he now twisted between his two fingers before strapping it to his belt,

He expected the sheriff or one of the other deputies to keep going on about it, but they dropped the subject, and instead the sheriff leaned forward over the fire, “You boys did a pretty good job with those men back there. That was some good shooting, and back at the bar was some pretty good teamwork.” he looked sidelong at Adam, “Now, I can’t vouch for the intelligence of a man who would flying tackle a bandit off a horse at twenty miles an hour, but that remains to be seen I suppose.”

Ramirez and Adam lifted their head in interest.

Adam raised an eyebrow, “You trying to say something sheriff.”

The man paused scrutinizing them still, “Well McBride and his men have been bothering this community for a while now, and it needs to stop. Now we captured a few of them back there, but McBride is the one we are really after, without him his whole group falls apart and vanishes back into whatever cesspit they came from.” he paused tapping his boot thoughtfully against the dirt, “We need good fighting men to help us take them down and you two….”

Ramirez and Adam both leaned forward in some measure of excitement eyes wide.”

“And well, the two of you have more than proven your metal when it comes to the fighting aspect so….. I am more than willing to deputize you boys until we catch McBride, the help would be most appreciated.”

“HELL YEAH!”

The sheriff almost fell off his log as the two of them jumped to their feet in vehement and unbridled excitement.

A few of the deputies just shook their heads.

“City folk.” one of them whispered but the smile on his face made it clear enough that he didn’t really mean anything by it.

“Calm down! Lest I rethink my offer,” the sheriff muttered, clearly trying to appear more annoyed than he actually was. He stood, “Both raise your right hands or some shit, I don’t know.”

The two of them did as asked, grinning from ear to ear.

“Now in the power vested in me by the Bramble county justice system bla bla, I hereby deputize you that you may bring justice and all that stuff or whatever. Do you swear to protect this county and all the citizens in it.”

“We swear.”

He grunted, “Good.”

The two men stared at him, grinning expectantly, “What?”

“You know what.”

He sighed, grumbled, and walked over to his saddle, reaching into the bag and pulling out two shiny golden badges both in the shape of a star. He tossed them across the topen fire at the two men, “Here, and try not to wet yourselves.”

They didn’t wet themselves of course

But there was certainly a moment of girlish screaming and jumping up and down around the fire that probably shouldn't have been done in front of a group of other men whose respect they were trying to gain.

When they sat back down finally clearing their throats and awkwardly adjusting their hats, the other men stared at them with some measure of both amusement and concern, though no one said anything.

Of course neither of them really cared.

Ramirez was still admiring his badge when a sudden frown came over his face, and he reached down to his shirt, “Damn it.”

Adam tilted his head,”What.”

“Hole in my shirt.”

He turned to see that there was, indeed, a hole in his shirt.

“Shit, I liked this shirt.” “Oh stop bitching and hand it over.”

“What.”

“Just give me the damn shirt.”

Ramirez did as told, though as he handed it over, the suspenders of his pants now hanging down at his sides he looked up grinning, “If you wanted to see me shirtless, you could have just asked.” 

Adam, not looking up from the hole replied, “I’ll be interested in your sweaty man boobs when hell freezes over.”

There was some light chuckling form around the fire as Adam reached into his bag and pulled out a small sewing kit. The group of men watched as he deftly threaded a needle, wetting the end of the thread with saliva before threading it through the small hole. Within the next few seconds he was pulling the hole in the shirt closed until it was neatly stitched back up and he handed it back to Ramirez .

He stared looking between Adam and the repaired shirt, “dude…. This… this is clean… since when have you known how to sew.”

Adam looked almost offended, “Seriously ramirez, think about who my mother is for five secons.”

“I mean yeah, but you didn’t exactly strike me as the sitting in the living room sewing with mom type.”

Adam crossed his arms, “I had a life once. Before I joined the UNSC I used to make my own costumes for conventions. My mother taught me everything she knows, and since I didn’t have a lot of friends at school I got pretty good at it.”

“Next you’ll be telling me you can knit.”

“Dude I will Knit or crochet you the best damn scarf you’ve ever worn and maybe a nice pair of mittens to go along with it.”

They stared at each other neither breaking eye contact.

“I make a mean beanie.”

Ramirez began to laugh, “You never cease to amaze me. What else can you do. I mean, you can Knit and crochet, and sew.”

“I am also pretty handy at cross-stitching, embroidery, and needlepoint.”

The other men around the fire began to laugh, though it was good natured enough.

Adam shrugged, “Laugh all you want, but I never had to worry about holes in my pants.”

“That it”

He paused and shook his head, “Well, no. I used to be able to do makeup ok, just for the costumes I did, could practically change the structure of my face. I was pretty good at it, I would say.” he frowned, rubbing his chin a bit, “I mean there were a lot of the things my mother and father taught me how to do…”

“Why…. why did you stop. That all seems fun.”

Adam paused, and then shrugged, “I…. well, I joined the UNSC and then didn’t really have time to do those things anymore. They just sort of… fell away until I kind of forgot I could even do them…. It was the same with riding horses and woodworking.”

“You used to draw too, didn’t you.”

Adam shrugged, “A little, probably could have been pretty good if I had practiced, but there wasn’t really time to do that either.”

One of the deputies prodded the fire with a stick, “Let your job kind of take over your life, didn’t you.”

He paused and shrugged, “I guess.”

“Not something that's good for a man.” The sheriff gestured around the circle, “The boys here all have things they like doing outside work. I mean I own a little farm. I like getting my hands in the dirt, and watching things grow. Clayton over there makes his own booze, and is pretty good at if I don’t say so myself. Tom there and his girl like to go dancing, won a few competitions, haven’t you Tom.”

Adam rubbed the back of his head, “Well I do have things outside my work I like to do, like flying or, watching vintage movies.”

“You're a fighter pilot, Adam, so that doesn’t count, and sci-fi movies are too close to home.”

He sighed, “Fine, fine, maybe I let the life take me over a little too much.”

Ramirez snorted, “Maybe…. Maybe?”

“Ok yeah, I DID for sure.”

“Don’t lose yourself kid. The moment you allow your job to define you, there is always the chance it could be taken away, and then you’d lose your identity all together.”

Adam grimaced at the thought, but realized they were…. Right.

What was he?

And there walsall the possibility in the world that he could lose his job. He wasn’t sure how it could be done, but he was sure it could happen. There was always the possibility of politics chasing him out of his role if he got too important. Or perhap, he would just get to old, and they wouldn’t trust him anymore.

Either way, one day he was going to be out of a job, and when that happened, he needed to make sure he was stable enough to handle it. And if he couldn’t handle his real life, right now, then he was sure that he wouldn’t be able to handle himself if he lost it.

“Get some sleep, all of you, we ride out tomorrow…. To catch a train.”

The men grumbled and maneuvered their saddles into more comfortable positions leaving one man on watch for that night.

Adam leaned back against his saddle to stare up at the stars.

There was…. An overwhelming sense of vertigo that came with looking up, a familiar sensation he had had since childhood. The stars overhead were comforting and familiar, but tonight they also seemed distant. They had been distant for a while, he supposed, and the thought left him with a deep well of sadness.

When had it been, when had he lost it….. The wide eyed childish love for what he did.

When had he become so…. So lost.

Was there a moment he could pinpoint, was there an instance he could look back on and see?

Or had it come on slowly pernicious and insidious creeping up on him slowly from behind to tackle him and bind him with such doubts and indecision.

He closed his eyes, and in his dreams he flew through the sky trailing his fingers through he stars.

[g0ldengubler]

i

(*i do not own this gif*)

A/N: (from wattpad): heyyy...how y'all doin? ugh i'm not too happy with the sex scene (even though i'm grateful that a friend of mine helped me with one of the paragraphs) but this is the best i can do right now with the mental state i'm in. pls bare with me with posting, my personal life has gone downhill so fast it's crazy. i wanted to get this up on halloween but it sadly didn't happen. i do apologize. but i hope ur excited for this fic! thank u so much for reading ilyyyyyyy :) (from tumblr): ok last post until tonight! sorry for the spam, i only had this so far so i thought why not throw it all on here now lol. but ok enjoy :)

Category: smut

CW: daddy kink; degradation (from both men to clover); penetration (female receiving); oral (m+f recieving and giving); drunk sex; praise kink; this chapter is not full of smut but you don't have to read the smut if you're uncomfortable

Word Count: 3235

positions | prologue

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

~Clover's POV~

~Two Years Later~

It's been two years since I joined the team, and I've never felt more at home than I did on my first week. Luke, Spencer and I have been named, 'The Golden Trio' thanks to Penelope. We've been stuck like glue ever since I beat them in poker, like the best friends I always wanted but never had. Because of what happen when I was a kid, I always stayed close to my dad and never felt the need to make friends. Sure, I'd have people that I'd see 5 days a week at school, but nothing as close as we were. During our days off, we'd get drunk and have a poker night or a chess night, teaching Luke how to play but he never seemed to understand it, so we'd slowly switch to UNO or Cards Against Humanity.

Today, Halloween of all days, was just another paperwork day. Sure, being out in the field was exciting, saving American citizens like how Emily saved me, but I found relaxation in looking over files and sending my behavioral advice. Everything was calm in the office with everyone doing their work, and some days we'd watch a movie in the conference room or play games when we either got done with our work early or, as Garcia would say, "All serial killers have taken the day off. Maybe even went to therapy."

As I walked back to my desk after turning in the last of my files to Emily, Rossi came out of his office and stood at the railing. "Everyone," he announced, "I think it's safe to say that for the first in several years, we do not have a case on Halloween night!"

Everyone cheered, especially Spencer. Halloween was his favorite holiday, you learned. He was very passionate about its spooky nature by dressing up in a scary mask at work, before having to take it off because of a case. He would pout when he would see Emily, Rossi, or Garcia come out, telling the team that we had a case. This year, however, I noticed a grin on his face that stretched from ear to ear.

"In honor of that, I will be throwing a party at my house and you're all invited. But don't think you could run away from my grandmother's recipe!"

I turned over to Spencer, who's desk was right next to mine, a curious grin growing on my face. "So doc, what are you going to be for Halloween?"

He leaned back in his chair and looked over to me, his left elbow pressed against the armrest. "I was originally going to go as Tom Baker's Doctor Who since I still have the cosplay from when Garcia and I tried going to a convention, but with how my hair looks now, I think I'll go as a mad scientist or, if I want to be more specific, Einstein himself."

"I can see you dressing up as Einstein," I smiled, "Hell, you could even go as Dr.Emmett Brown, himself."

"Who?"

I looked back at him, jaw falling to my desk. "You know, from Back to the Future?"

He still looked confused.

"Don't worry about it, Clover," Luke said as he walked over and sat at the desk in front of me, "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"Now I'm curious about this movie." Spencer said, his curious face getting curiouser and curiouser.

"Maybe we can sneak away from the party tonight at some point and watch it." I wink at him and the two began chuckling.

"Those movie's are the closest to nerd I'll ever get." said Luke, which sparked Spencer's interest even more.

"So what are you going to be tonight, Kingsley?"

I looked over at him with a smirk."Oh, Alvez, THAT is a surprise."

~That Night~

"They did the monnnster mash!"

Music was coming from all over the backyard and in the house. Everyone from the BAU was dressed up in their spooky (or sexy...or cutest) best and was dancing the night away with champagne in their hands. I had walked in a little bit late compared to everyone else, which somehow Rossi didn't give me a sassy but funny remark about it. Rossi and Krystall dressed up as Bonnie and Clyde, Tara, along with Jj, Emily, and Garcia, went as nuns, and Matt went as Rickey while his wife, Kristy, was Lucy.

Luke ended up going as Magic Mike, not because he was full of himself, that was way out of line for him, but because the team would joke that he could become a stripper if he had to and played along. Spencer was, indeed, Albert Einstein. Garcia must've helped him with his hair, getting it to stick out like Einstein's and spraying gray hairspray in his hair. Both looked really good in their costumes, I couldn't complain.

I walked in as a sexy devil. I'm not scared to dress sexy when I could. I was comfortable in my body and I wasn't doing it to get someone's attention. I just love to feel myself from time to time, almost like a confidence boost if I needed it. I walked over to my two dudes and saw their eyes bulging out of their heads as they turned around to see. I was in a tight red crop top that showed off the girlies, with red short shorts, black fishnet tights, and red heels. I had horns on the top of my head thanks to a headband, and a tail that was attached to my shorts. The two were completely shocked, but were the respectful men that I always knew they were.

As the night went on, I was kind of getting bored. While I loved being surrounded by my coworkers turned family, I wanted to get wasted. It was Halloween night for crying out loud, but I didn't like being drunk in front of a lot of people. Even when I would go to the club, I would just have one drink and then dance with everyone on the dance floor. I didn't trust my drunk self, not physically but just how my personality changes. It embarrassed me to no end, so I only trusted a few people. Two of them, obviously, being Spencer and Luke.

At one point, I was sitting on the couch in the living room by myself. Luke and Spencer came in and sat down next to me, asking me if I was ok. When I explained to them what I was feeling, they both grinned in unison as they looked at one another, then back at me. I knew exactly what they were thinking, and they were in for it. We said goodbye to everyone, grabbed our coats, and headed out the door where we all met up at Luke's place.

When we walked in, Spencer and I sat on his couch getting Back to the Future ready while Luke made us all drinks. As we watched, we ended up leaving our glasses on the table and started taking turns drinking the vodka bottle, numb to the burning sensation. After taking the last shot in the bottle, I set it down and lay back against the back of the couch and blacked out, letting the alcohol take over my mind and body. The last thing I remember was leaning my head against Spencer's shoulder, while my feet were on Luke's lap...

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

Clover was giggling on Spencer's shoulder as her foot slowly rubbed over Luke's lap. Luke shifted his position on the couch, trying not to notice what that was doing to him. Not like he had a foot fetish or anything, but the amount of friction caused his pants grow tighter by the minute. Spencer, who had never been this drunk before in his life, started playing with her hair as he moved his arm around her. Spencer could tell that she was just as drunk as he was, but he didn't expect her to lay her hand on his chest, playing with the necklace he had around his neck. He tried to focus his attention to Back to the Future III, but once she started playing with the gold piece of metal with her mouth, he couldn't help but to look down at her, her eyes never leaving his.

He looked over to Luke, who had moved Clover's foot over and started palming himself  through his pants. Spencer quickly looked away, trying not to give in to his own urges. He moved his focus back to Clover, who's eyes were still locked on him. Before he could do anything, she let go of the necklace and began to slowly move her hand down Spencer's chest.

"I know why Luke moved my foot away," she whispered as her hand gently fell on his lap. She moved her fingers ever so lightly over the bulge that was growing in his pants. She had also moved her foot back onto to Luke's bulge, rubbing over it softly.

The two looked at each other, almost in confusion at first. But then, they silently agreed that they were up for it, as Clover clearly was as well. Luke moved her foot off of it and stood up, pausing the movie as Spencer moved her hand out of the way and lifted her head up as he started to get up. He takes her hand and helps her up, grabbing Luke's hand before wobbling their way into his room. She jumped onto the bed as Spencer shut the door, letting the light from the moon and street lamps illuminate the room. The two stood in front of her before she motioned her finger for them to come over.

"You're one hell of a brat, Kingsley." Luke slurred as the two quickly walked over to her, plopping down on either side of her on the bed.

Clover leans in and kisses Luke while Spencer went for her neck, cupping her left breast and massaging it. The touch alone had a moan leave her lips and into Luke's as he moved his tongue on her bottom lip, asking for entrance. As their tongues melded together, Spencer moved the fabric of her top over and took her breast out of the cup of her bra, leaning in and began licking her nipple before taking the whole thing in his mouth sucking it. Clover broke the kiss and let out a whimper, which made both men chuckle as she leaned both of her arms behind her on the bed for support.

Luke looks over to Spencer as he lets go of her breast and looks up to Luke. "Do you think she'll stop being a brat if we do something like this?" Luke asks before moving his fingers down to her core, rubbing over her shorts. Clover bites her lip to hold in a gasp, which Luke wasn't too pleased by.

"Are you going to behave, little one?" Spencer asks as he plays with the waistband of her shorts, his lips ghosting her cheek.

Clover nods, still holding in a moan just from being touched.  Luke grabs ahold of her jaw and quickly turns her face to look at him. "Use your words, princesa."

"Please," she whines.

Spencer has Clover buck her hips as he pulled her shorts and tights off of her. They notice how turned on she was on her panties and both lean in, biting and sucking on either side of her neck. Spencer's fingers linger the inside of her thighs while Luke went back to rubbing her through the cloth. She moves her hips against his fingers, begging for more.

"You were such a tease just a few minutes ago, and now look at you. So helpless and needy in a matter of seconds." says Spencer in between kisses.

Hearing that made Clover take her panties off in a swift, but quick, motion. She couldn't take it anymore, she needed their touch.

"Eager little girl, aren't you?" Luke chuckled.

It took a minute for her to realize that Spencer went straight in, sticking two fingers inside her and pumping slowly while Luke rubbed her pussy. Her brain had turned into mush full of pleasure that when they went in, she couldn't help but let out a loud moan. They sped up their movements, making her let out a silent scream.

"Fuck, daddy!" She gasped out.

The two were shocked, but didn't complain about the name. "Which one of us is daddy, kitten?" Spencer asked.

"You can't think straight, can you?" Luke asked.

Clover pulls Spencer in by his tie while pulling Luke in at the same time by his belt. "Shut up," she says breathy, "just shut up and fuck me."

"Don't go back to being a brat now," says Luke finally after a moment of silence, "You are going to behave or you'll be punished. And I don't think you'll like what we'll do."

Spencer continues to finger her quickly and deeply, curling his fingers as he hit her gspot every time while Luke rubs faster on her clit. Clover falls onto the bed as wave of pleasure hit her like a train.  She closed her walls around Spencers fingers, getting closer and closer to release as he sped up his pace even more.

"Cum for me, little girl, I want you cum so hard on daddy's fingers."

Spencer connects his lips back to her neck as she screamed, letting the waves of pleasure shoot through her body. Luke rubs her slowly to let her ride out her orgasm as Spencer pulls his fingers out and sticks them in his mouth. The way he cleaned her off made her ache all over again, wanting more and more. She didn't want this to end; This was the most pleasure she's ever had.

Luke looks over as Spencer finished devouring her, removing his fingers from his mouth with a small pop. "She tastes so sweet."

Without a single word, Luke gets off the bed and kneels in front of it, pulling Clover by her knees closer to him. As Spencer started making out with her, Luke dives right in between her thighs, licking a single thick stripe up her core, making her moan through the kiss. As their tongues fought like swords in their mouths, Spencer starts to unbuckle his belt and pulled his pants with his boxers in a swift motion, letting his cock spring free. Before it could hit his stomach, however, she grabs onto it with her left hand and starting pumping him slowly. He groans into her mouth before breaking apart, watching her stroke his aching cock.

"Please, daddy. I need your cock so bad fUCK!"

Neither of the two knew who she was talking to, but they did know that it didn't matter. Luke gets up from the floor and takes his costume off while Spencer moved his position so that his knees were on the bed. Clover moves up a bit so that Luke could get back on. The two pump themselves a few times before they pushed themselves in. She took Spencer's cock in her mouth as Spencer grabs a handful of her hair, slowly pushing her down as Luke thrust. As soon as she was comfortable of their size, Luke began thrusting slowly. Clover moaned and grind against him, begging for more, which he happily obliged. Spencer groaned under his breath when she moaned, making him buck his hips forward, shoving his cock down her throat. She gagged on it, tears piercing her eyes.

Clover was at this moment, and maybe even every moment after this, beneath them. Spencer and Luke were exercising their rights to dominate, belittle, and humiliate her. Her holes were filled as her mind quickly unraveled from the rush of pleasure from every minute pulsation. She couldn't even follow their taunts anymore, and the only bit of rationale that she could muster was to be the best sex doll for her two dominators. Her pussy ached for more punishment as they admonished her sloppy performance. She moaned hungrily as she was ravaged, playing the broken slut; no, she was their broken slut. Eagerly enjoying their obvious amusement.

The knot in her stomach was getting tighter and tighter again. She knew Luke was just edging her, making her wait to cum until he was ready. He looked to Spencer, who was holding on for dear life, almost getting into some sort of sub space of his own as the look on his face was begging for release. Clover felt both of their cocks twitch inside her, letting her know they were close.

"Cum for us, princesa," Luke growls, "just one more time for daddy. I know you want to, baby."

Clover turned into a screaming, moaning mess as she came all over Luke's cock, making a huge mess on the bed. That was the last straw for the two men, as they both released inside her, filling her over the edge. The two pulled themselves out, Spencer laying next to Clover (who was showing him that she swallowed every last drop of him) while Luke watched his cum pool out from her, enjoying the view before he lay on the other side of her. Clover wiggled her arms through theirs, focusing on something to cuddle her way into. Spencer quickly grabbed tissues from his side of the bed and cleaned her up.

"You did so good, Clover." says Spencer. He throws the used tissues away in the waste bin beside him and turns back to see tears prickling from her eyes again. "Ssh ssh, it's ok," he coos as he wraps his arms around her. Spencer's soft praises mixed with Luke's gentle hand playing with her hair helped her come back down from the cloudy headspace she was in. She felt cared for and safe with them comforting her.

Clover snuggles into Spencer as Luke's arm wrapped around her waist, spooning behind her. Spencer kissed the top of her head as she nestled her head on his chest, letting the sleepiness that alcohol gave take over them.

As she drifted off to sleep, Clover hoped that she wouldn't forget this perfect night.

[isitgintimeyet]

Just A Friend

Hope you are all having a good weekend. I’m the only one awake, the sun is shining and I’m enjoying my coffee in peace and quiet. Bliss!

Thank you for the continuing support for this story. it’s lovely reading (and re-reading) all the comments.

Hope you enjoy this next chapter.

Thanks to @wickedgoodbooks for the beta.

AO3

Previous Chapter

Chapter 3: From Relationship To Release

You know, I’m a great believer in relationships. Relationships come in all shapes and sizes — take my relationship with Geillis, for example.

I met Geillis on my first day of postgraduate training at Glasgow Royal Infirmary. I was spending three months in orthopaedic surgery and she was just finishing her training as a theatre nurse. We somehow kept bumping into each other at social gatherings and found we had many things in common — a childish sense of humour, an intolerance of pomposity and snobbishness, and a love of cheesy rom-com movies.

From there, our friendship snowballed, and for many years now, I’ve called her my best friend. Even the arrival of a fiancé and her forthcoming nuptials haven’t lessened our relationship in any way. Our careers have developed in parallel too. So when a vacancy came up for a senior theatre sister at the Children’s hospital, I didn’t hesitate to recommend her for the post. We work well together. For all her joking around and flippant comments she is damn good at her job. And I love her.

I don’t think I love many people. I’m very fond of a lot of people, mainly my friends. But love? No. And certainly not the romantic, live-our-life-together type of love.

I see how it can work. I look at Robbie’s parents, for example. The way they are there for each other, supporting through all the worries with their son, their comforting touches and reassuring glances.They are a solid unit and I admire that.

I also see the way that Geillis’ face lights up when she talks about her fiancé, Dougal, and the way he watches her when we are all together in the pub. And I think it’s great, I really do.

But it’s not something that I’m seeking out for myself. I don’t think I’m cut out for that type of relationship. I don’t think there is someone out there, my soulmate, to spend the rest of my life with. And I definitely don’t think that I need someone else to complete me, make me whole.

That doesn’t mean that I’m a hermit. Far from it, in fact. I do date and enjoy it, but try to steer clear of any where-is-this-relationship-going type discussions.

It may well be to do with my childhood. I’ll admit, I’ve not had the most normal upbringing and that could have coloured my view of happily-ever-after love.

I’ve never been part of a conventional family unit. Well, I mean, I was for the first four years of my life —until my parents died in a car accident. And, at that age, how much can you remember? I do have some vague memories — rough tweed fabric against my cheek as my father’s strong arms lift me up, the smell of ‘Miss Dior’ perfume as my mother’s soft hands caress my cheek, the sound of laughter as we dance around the living room to Michael Jackson. But these are only fleeting recollections, ephemeral, gone in an instant.

All my real childhood memories are centred around one man — my uncle, Lambert Beauchamp. He, unhesitatingly, took me in when my parents died and became my guardian, my parent, my rock. He and I were a team, and I miss him every single day.

He was a confirmed bachelor, and I don’t mean that in a euphemistic way. He lived his life by his own rules and if he had been gay, he would have seen no reason to hide it. No, he had no need for romantic entanglements, no complicated relationships, no messy sexual encounters. He had two loves in his life — me and his work. He was a professor at the University, teaching archaeology and could, quite happily, get lost for hours in the bowels of the archives, studying ancient Somarian drinking vessels.

Growing up he was my role model, my yardstick against which to measure boys.

And over time, I've come to realise that I've always found myself attracted to the type of men which have certain ‘Lambert-esque’ qualities. Which leads me, I suppose, to Frank.

Just like my uncle, he’s a professor at the university. In history — more recent than Lamb’s studies only three hundred years ago, not three thousand.  He’s single minded about his research, like my uncle, and he cares deeply about me, which makes me feel bad because I don’t feel the same way. Of course, I care about him, just not enough for a serious relationship that’s going somewhere.

All of this is a long winded way of saying what I’ve actually known for a while now... I need to break up with Frank.

*************

I’m just contemplating whether to brave the canteen or grab a sandwich from the hospital shop, when there’s a knock at my office door and a hand appears brandishing a couple of distinctive Gregg’s paper bags. This hand is closely followed by the rest of Geillis, who plonks herself down on one of my visitor chairs. A wonderful aroma of freshly baked goods wafts across the desk. My stomach rumbles in anticipation.

“Steak bake or sausage roll?” she asks as she places both bags on my desk, although she knows my preference.

“Ooh, how did you know I was just thinking about lunch?” I pick up one of the bags, the oozing gravy on its surface being a clear giveaway.

“We’ve been friends fer long enough,” Geillis smiles. “I ken what ye’re thinking. In fact, ye’ve something on yer mind right now. No’ a work thing. C’mon, spill.”

I swear, it’s uncanny. In the Middle Ages Geillis would undoubtedly have been tried as a witch. Her powers of deduction are that good.

I say nothing for a moment and focus on my lunch, blowing ineffectually on the hot meat filling.

“Weel? I’m waiting and ye ken I’m no’ a patient woman, Claire. This is tae do wi’ Frank, is it no’? Are ye planning on dumping him?”

See what I mean? Witchcraft.

“You make it sound so harsh. But I can’t carry on with Frank, he’s investing more into this… this—“

“Ye can say the word, Claire. Relationship… R… E…—“

“I know, I know. But I have to do something. I know Frank wants more than I want  to give in this ‘relationship’.” I  enunciate clearly just to make the point to Geillis. I’m not afraid of the word… I can say it.

“Anyway,” I add casually as I dab at the pastry crumbs with my finger. “I thought you’d be pleased. I know you’ve never liked him.”

Geillis tuts. “‘Tis no’ a matter of like. We jes’ havena got anything in common. He’s awfa serious and ye dampen yer personality down when ye’re with him. I’ve seen ye, ye canna deny it.”

I try to interject, but Geillis ignores my sounds of protest and carries on talking. “But it’s no’ jes’ Frank. Ye do this all the time, Claire. Whenever anyone tries tae get serious, ye run. What is wrong wi’ wanting a relationship anyway?”

“I have my work, I have my friends. I date, I go out with men, I have a good, if sporadic, sex life… and a trusty dual speed vibrator. What’s wrong with me wanting my life the way I want it?”

Geillis crams the end of her sausage roll into her mouth and chews vigorously for a minute. I pass her a paper serviette for her greasy hands. She gathers up the flaky pastry crumbs that have settled on her chest, wraps them in the serviette and pops it neatly in the bin.

“Ok, I get it. I’ll back off. But all I’m saying is dinna close yerself off tae the possibility of a real relationship, aye?”

Knowing she's gone as far as she can with this topic, she gets up and heads for the door. “Nae rest fer the wicked. Oh, and Claire, jes’ one thing…”

She pauses dramatically. “Dinna forget… ye’ve gravy on yer chin.”

And with that she disappears, leaving me with a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach caused by more than the calorie ridden pasty.

I am just settling down to dictate some patient letters when Frank texts to suggest dinner at my favourite Italian restaurant. This isn’t good. It’s a lovely restaurant, the kind of restaurant where special occasions are celebrated— birthdays, anniversaries, declarations…

So I have to lie… no, not lie, fib. I text back pleading a heavy day in theatre — aching feet, headache and so on.

His concerned response makes me feel bad. No need for fibbing, I do feel pretty shitty now. However, it also makes me more resolved to do what I have to do. I can’t drag this out, causing him more and more hurt. So, I invite him to my flat this evening instead.

*******

I have a final glance in the mirror in my bedroom. I do actually look a bit worn out. I haven’t really put any makeup on, just a touch of mascara and a slick of lipstick, which I have already managed to chew off.

My hair is, as per usual, a bit wild and untamed. I have a bathroom shelf full of products promising smooth and manageable curls, but have yet to find one that actually delivers on their promises. I tuck my hair behind my ears, pinch my cheeks to try to look a little less pale and head to the front door.

Frank is as punctual as ever. Unlike other things in my life, he’s always delivering on his promises. Which makes me feel even worse. I have nothing to accuse him of, no unacceptable behaviour— apart from wanting more than I’m prepared to give. That old cliché, “it’s not you, it’s me”, really is appropriate here. I’m going to try not to actually say those words though. He deserves more than that.

And so I take a deep breath and open the door. He stands there expectantly with two bottles of wine, one red and one white, in his hands.

“I wasn’t sure what we would be eating, so I got both just in case,” he volunteers as he walks in and leans close to me for a kiss.

I give him my cheek and make a fuss of taking the bottles from him to deflect my lack of affection.

He follows me into the lounge. I’m sure he notices that I make no offer to pour the wine. I set the wine on the coffee table and perch on the end of the settee.

Frank takes my hands. “Claire, darling, are you ok? Has it been a rough day?”

I shake my head. “It’s not been the best. Frank… I…”

I can’t even look at him now. I take a deep breath and plunge in. “Frank, I… the thing is… I don’t know how… I think we should stop seeing each other.” The words tumble out of my mouth like a deluge.

I finally look up as Frank releases my hands and walks over to the window. He stands still, his back to me, as if just taking in the view. Then he turns to face me, staring intently at me, scrutinising my face as if looking for a glimmer of hope. The silence is unbearable.

“Frank, it’s not you—“ I try to fill the void, by resorting to stale old clichés after all.

“Spare me that platitude.” He snaps at me. “We’re not fifteen. This was… is… serious to me, Claire.”

Frank now moves to sit next to me. His hand rests on my thigh, his fingers lightly drawing circles on my jeans. I watch for a moment. Am I supposed to move it? Should I remind him he no longer can touch me like this?

His voice softens.  “I lo—“

“No, please, Frank. Don’t say it. Please don’t. You are such a nice man. You don’t deserve this.” Gently, I lift his hand and  place it on his leg.

“Then don’t do it. Tell me, Claire, what do I have to do? What changes do I have to make for us to move forward? I’ll do it, tell me. We can make this work, I know.”

What do I say now? Anything I say will only hurt him more. All I can do is apologise and try to explain.

“I am sorry, really. It’s just, well, you want more than I can give. You think about a future—“

“And what’s wrong with that? That’s what most people want, Claire. Planning for a future together— a home, a family… our family.” Frank’s getting angry now, raising his voice.

“Please, I’m trying to explain. You want a future life together and I can’t give you that. I’m sorry that I’m hurting you.”

“Is there someone else? Is that what this is all about?”

I’ve been trying to remain composed, to give Frank the explanation he deserves. But this question annoys me beyond belief, as if I have to be one half of a couple.

“I can’t believe you asked that. No, it’s not about another man. I can’t be what you want me to be and that’s it.”

He stands up now, right in front of me. His hands are down by his sides, so tightly clenched into fists that his knuckles are white against the slight tan of his skin. For a fleeting nanosecond, I wonder if he is going to hit me. But, of course not, he’s just trying to gain control of himself.

“That’s it, then.” The words are spat out with venom.

“You know I’m sorry.”

He shrugs dismissively. “Of course. Well, goodbye.”

He makes for the door.

“What about the wine?” I indicate the two bottles, still on the table. It’s a pointless trivial comment, I know, but for some reason I don’t want him to think I expect to keep them.

Frank doesn’t even look over his shoulder. “Consider them a parting gift.”

And with that, he's gone.

I remain sitting motionless, processing what I’ve just done. It’s not easy hearing those words, but neither is it easy to have to say them. So many emotions are coursing through my body — sorrow, guilt, regret, self-reproach, worry. And in the midst of this maelstrom, there is one thing I can clearly recognise — a glimmering spark of relief.

[advena87]

Keira and Lambert's love story because we need one!

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Here is Part 2

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Keira: You must be Lambert. I've heard so much about you.

Lambert: All bad, I’m assuming.

Keira: Uh, yes.

Triss: And all true.

***

Keira: I love this whole "good witcher/bad witcher" thing you two have going.

Eskel: It's not really a thing. It's more like I'm nice, Lambert is not.

***

Lambert: I would never say this to Keira's face, but she is a wonderful person and really smart.

Geralt: Why wouldn’t you say that to her face?!

***

Lambert: So, did it hurt?

Keira: What?

Lambert: When you fell down from heaven.

Keira: No, I'm fine.

***

Keira: What can I say? I'm seductive and irresponsible.

Lambert: You mean irresistible?

Geralt, sighing in the background: No, you heard that right.

Lambert: Wow, she is perfect.

***

Keira: This guy has been bothering me. And he always disagrees with me.

Lambert: Kill him!

Keira: No.

Lambert, softer: I kill him for you?

Keira: Lambert no. Just listen up, there are three ways to argue: words, proof and-

Lambert: Murder!

Keira, sighing: See? This is why your brothers hate you.

***

Lambert: I don't understand women.

Geralt: Nor do I. But they understand us. Well, maybe not you.

***

Lambert: Yeah, I've been doing a lot of thinking. And, I've come to realize that Keira is the only woman I want to be with.

Geralt: You mean today?

***

Keira: I’m not gonna say it was love at first sight with Lambert. No, it was more like oh, hell-yes-please, I’ll have that. With a helping of right-the-fuck-now on the side.

Triss: Oh my god! I'm not judging you or anything - but, oh my god!

***

Keira: When I was six years old I sprinkled sugar on my head, convinced myself it was pixie dust, wished myself invisible, and walked into the boys' bathroom at school.

Lambert: I fucking love her so much.

Geralt: It starts to make sense now.

***

Keira: It is nice to see you again.

Lambert: Are you talking to my butt?

Keira: Yes.

***

Keira: Lambert is a good man, if you ignore all the things he does on purpose and concentrate on all of the things he does by accident.

Triss: Okay. I’m going to picture Lambert without his personality.

Triss: ...

Triss: OMG, Lambert might be hot.

Keira: I know, right!

***

Triss, speaking of Lambert: Ok, he is king of jerks but he does have a terrific ass.

Keira: Perhaps that's why you're always making him leave.

***

*Lambert and Keira just had sex for the first time*

Lambert: Promise you won't tell Geralt?

Keira: I gonna tell everybody!

 ***

Triss: Is everything alright? It sounds like you're having sex in here; which I know can't be true due to the fact that you have a homosexual boyfriend.

Keira: Bisexual, Triss, Lambert is BISEXUAL!

Triss, dramatic, without even listening: Lord tells us to love everyone, even the whores and the homosexuals. But it's so hard, it's so hard because they keep doing it, over and over again.

Keita: Did you just call me a whore?

Lambert: Aw, don't be jealous Merigold, someone may one day fuck you too.

***

Lambert, with an arm around Keira: I was lost... but then I met the love of my life.

Everyone: *collectively awes*

Lambert: But he died, and now I'm with Keira.

*a few hours later*

Lambert: Are you STILL ignoring me? Babe I was kidding-

***

Keira, texting Triss: I’m begging Lambert not to do stupid shit and guess what’s doing?

Triss: Are you surprised?

Keira: No.

Keira: Update: He’s doing more stupid shit.

Keira: And somehow it makes me more attracted to him.

Triss: You say that like that’s not the number one thing you’re attracted to.

***

Keira: What was the most inspiring thing I’ve ever said to you?

Lambert: “Don’t be an idiot.” Changed my life.

***

Lambert: Keira isn’t just some bitch, she’s the bitch I love!

Lambert: And don’t tell her I called her a bitch, or she’ll kill me!

***

Lambert: Babe, do the thing.

Keira: *Glares*

Lambert, breathless: Oh my god.

***

Lambert: Keira, there's something else I've been wanting to say, but before I do, I just. I want you to know you don't have to say it back. I know you're not ready and I don't want you to say it just because social convention dictates-

Keira: I love you, too.

Lambert: You said it.

Keira: Oh please, social convention? Not ready? I'm Keira fucking Metz, and I do what I want!

Lambert: I'm so fucking in love with you.

***

Eskel: Lambert, how do I ask someone out?

Lambert: Well, first, you-

Keira: No, don’t ask him. He asked me out in a Kaer Morhen bathroom.

Eskel: 

Eskel: And you said yes?

***

Eskel: So, Lambert, what'd you get her? Earrings? A little bracelet?

Lambert: No, I got her way more than a piece of jewelry. I got her a gift that really says something - a diamond engagement ring.

Geralt: As a joke?

Lambert: No, you guys, I'm gonna ask Keira to marry me.

Eskel:

Geralt:

Geralt: As a joke?

***

Eskel: Did you guys hear about Lambert's and Keira's engagement?

Ciri: Yeah, isn't it great!

Geralt: For him. She could do better.

***

Keira: Did you tell anybody we’re engaged?

Lambert: Yes, Keira, I have no self-control and I told all of our friends we’re engaged.

Keira: Okay, no need to be sarcastic.

Lambert: No, seriously, I have no self-control and I told all of our friends we’re engaged.

***

*Lambert and Keira’s wedding, during the marriage vows*

Priest: Now, I’m gonna need you to swear--

Lambert: FUCK.

Priest:

Keira:

Keira: Swear as in promise, you idiot!

Lambert: But I’m your idiot *pointing at wedding ring* FOREVER.

***

*At Lambert and Keira’s wedding*

Vesemir, raising a glass: To my new daughter-in-law, I say this:

Vesemir: You have released me. This monster is yours now.

***

Geralt: How was the honeymoon?

Keira: Lambert got drunk and tried to set our marriage certificate on fire while screaming "good luck trying to return me without the receipt".

***

Lambert: I love her.

Lambert: Do you think she knows I exist?

Eskel: Well, you’re married so I’d hope so.

***

Lambert, at 3 AM: I think cheese is better than cake, because you can have cheesecake, but you can't have cakecheese.

Keira:

Keira: I can’t believe I fucking married you.

***

Lambert: What are you doing?

Keira, standing on the chair: I live here, you know. I can stand wherever I want, thank you very much.

Lambert:

Keira:

Lambert: Where's the rat?

Keira: Under the table.

***

Keira, trying to get Lambert into yoga: It's a symbol for rebirth-

Lambert: I'm not interested in being rebirthed, thank you. I'm still recovering from being birthed the first time.

***

Lambert: WHO THE FUCK ATE MY POPTARTS I’M GOING TO KI-

Keira: I did.

Lambert: -kiss you and tell you how much I love you.

*later*

Keira, hugging Lambert and whispering in his ear: Drink my coffee again and we’re fucking done.

***

Keira: Why is your back all scratched up?

Lambert: *flashes back to chasing a raccoon around the house after Keira specifically said to leave it alone*

Lambert: I'm having an affair.

***

Geralt: When Keira’s mad at you, how do you make her not mad?

Lambert: First, I apologize. Then I get her whatever she wants.

Geralt: Even when she’s wrong?

Lambert: She’s never wrong.

***

Keira: Be safe.

Lambert: DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!

Lambert: … But okay.

***

Keira: I bet I can fit the whole world in my hands!

Lambert: Keira, that's physically impossible.

Keira: *cups his face* Are you sure?

Lambert: * blushing *

Lambert: Stop it  woman, I have a reputation.

*later*

Lambert: 911 I'd like to report a robbery.

Lambert: It's my wife, she stole my heart.

911: Sir, I told you to stop calling this number.

***

Vesemir: No Lambert.

Lambert: Yes Lambert.

Eskel: Lambert no.

Lambert: Lambert yes.

Geralt: Prick NO!

Lambert: Prick YES!

Keira *quietly*: Lambert...

Lambert: Lambert no :<

***

Lambert: Keira is finally coming home from her week long Brotherhood of Sorcerers meeting, so you know what I’m getting tonight,

Lambert: Yelled at. I’m gonna get yelled at.

***

Geralt: My goal for tonight is to get Keira drunk enough to tell us embarrassing stories about Lambert.

Keira: Why would I have to be drunk to do that?

***

Lambert: *returns home in the morning, from the contract, after a long absence.*

Keira, grumpy and half sleepy: Either get out of bed or else take your clothes off. I'm not in the mood to compromise.

***

Lambert: Send dudes.

Keira: You mean nudes?

Lambert: That's later. Now I’m in a fight. I need more men.

***

Lambert, holding a big box: If i came home with a child of surprise what would you do?

Keira: What? Why?

Lambert: ...

Keira: Whats in the box?

Lambert:

Keira: Lambert, what is in the fucking box?!

Lambert: I think you know...

Keira: For the fuck’s sake, you moron, do you keep a child in a box? Take it out before it suffocates!

***

Keira: Our daughter keeps getting letters from boys.

Lambert: What? Why?

Keira: Because she’s charming and beautiful.

Lambert: Trace the sender, end his lineage, salt the earth.

Keira: I’m pretty sure he’s 7.

Lambert: Then it should be easy.

***

Keira, teaching their daughter to dance: So remember, the guy always leads.

Lambert: And if his hand slips any lower than your back, call me. I’ll brake it.

***

Lambert: Well, I want it on the record that if the kid was running a gwent game for money under the bleachers, she didn't necessarily get the idea from me.

***

Kid: Dad if I ask you a boy question, will you promise not to be weird?

Lambert: I promise.

Kid: So, there’s this boy-

Lambert: You can do better.

***

Keira: Remember, kid: the only difference between screwing around and science is writing it down.

***

Keira, about their daughter: She can't go in the water this weekend, she's got an ear infection. So no swimming.

Kid: Awwwww, Mom...

Lambert: No, it's OK, princess, we'll have a great weekend. We can go to Disneyland, we can play gwent, go sword fighting, horse riding, whatever you want.

Keira: Lambert, relax. You're starting to sound like a tampon commercial.

***

Lambert: We can't go out tonight. We're getting up early to go to Disneyland.

Keira: "We"?

Lambert: Yeah. I thought maybe you'd want to come with us.

Keira: Lambert, I'm terrified about having one small rodent in my house. Why would I drive 50 miles to see their kingdom?

Here is Part 2

[hetalia-nordic-trash]

The Heart Gambit (Dennor): 2-The Arbiter

Word Count: 1,566

Summary: Mathias and Emil meet the day after the party for drinks but things take a surprising turn when Emil has to leave suddenly.

Author's Note: Yay next chapter! Sorry it's a little late! I had a great time writing it so I hope you enjoy it and do leave me some feedback so I can keep getting better!

Previous: 1-Where I want to Be

---

Mathias took a swig of his drink. The bar was mostly quiet except for some old men having a conversation in the corner, occasionally punching through the quiet with bouts of hearty laughter. He anticipated the noise would pick up as the night went on and hoped his drink would loosen his nerves.

His plan was to persuade Emil to introduce him to Lukas, but Mathias was having doubts. He'd spent the last night tossing and turn in his hotel room. Should I say I'm sorry for saying he doesn't have a life? Would he believe me? Why do I care what he thinks? Mathias wasn't really sure why he wanted to talk to Lukas so badly.

He thought back to the conversation he had with Alfred last night. All Mathias has to do was shake hands and be relatively polite; win them over with 'charm'. He'd done it a million times before. He remembered how much fun it was at the beginning of his career. He liked seeing people smile and laugh when he was loud or made a snarky comment. No one has seen a Chess player like that before. Breaking the stereotype worked in his favor for a long time, but the more Mathias thought about how he felt about keeping up this facade, the more the same thought came to his mind: I'm tired. This wasn't the first time he had this thought. It started maybe a year ago, and to say it scared him was an understatement. He couldn't fathom losing everything he worked for at the time. He relished the fame and loved his lifestyle. But these days, he had half a mind to be a no-show at the match and run away to a small village nearby and spend the rest of his days breathing in the fresh air, soaking in the sunlight.

Mathias quickly zoned back in as he heard the door open. Emil stepped through, looking much different from the night before. Rather than the suit and tie from last night, he was wearing a striped button-down shirt and brown jacket that looked as if it had been hastily thrown on. Emil looked over at him. He stared for a moment before recognizing Mathias and walking over.

He didn't blame him for not recognizing him. When he's not as some stuffy get-together, Mathais wore his hair much wilder and popped the collars of his shirts. Mathias also wouldn't be surprised if he looked like he went through a tornado considering how tired he was when he got dressed. At this point, it wouldn't phase him to learn he was wearing two left shoes or one black and one brown.

Emil made his way over to Mathias's table and sat across from him. Emil looked a little stiff and his gaze was fixed on the table. He chuckled a bit.

"You know, part of me did think you'd show up," he said with a half-smile.

Mathias beamed.

"Of course! I wanted to finish our conversation from last night! Talking about your brother is way more fun than a stuffy party! To be fair, it's also way more fun when you're not AT the stuffy party!" he laughed. "'Though, I'm kinda curious. What about you, huh?

Emil was taken aback a bit. Just last night, Mathias was mostly well-behaved with a bit of an ego. Now he's asking about him? Everything Lukas told him made it seem like Mathias would be the kind of guy to spend half the time talking about how great he is and the other half talking sponsorship and bulldozing rainforests.

"Well, there's not much to talk about." He shifted a bit in his seat. "It's just been me and Lukas for a long time. When he picked up Chess and started getting serious, I joined him. I never really liked competing, though. So I ended up becoming his second. Now my job is to make sure he actually eats food instead of just reading. The rest is history."

Mathias took a swig from his drink.

"So why stick around, huh? If you don't like the whole competition scene then...well I guess I'm asking what you'd be doing if you weren't doing chess?" he implored with a childlike smile.

Emil scratched at his palm.

"I... well... I've always wanted to go back to school. It's not like I'm that old or anything! I used to wanted to go to school for geology or something like that," Emil said, his face lighting up. "I've always like volcanoes and things like that!"

Mathias gave a bit smile.

"That's so cool! You should tell me what lava feels like when you get to touch it!" he exclaimed.

Emil raised an eyebrow.

"I don't think... never mind. So what about you, huh? Got any plans for after the match?" Emil asked, stealing glances at his watch.

Mathias paused for a moment. He couldn't exactly say he hadn't thought about it before. Of course he has. But no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't think of somewhere he wanted to be. He couldn't see himself as any conventional job like a lawyer, teacher, and certainly not an office worker. If he was honest with himself, he didn't really fit any job in particular. He didn't have a higher purpose anymore. Chess became his life, his life became chess, and he was scared of who he would be without it. He lost so much to Chess, but he most regretted the time he lost, the life he wouldn't get back. Maybe that's what he would do. Spend the rest of his life making up for all the time he lost at uncomfortable parties, being purposely arrogant and hurtful, and for every game he played after he realized it didn't make him happy anymore.

Mathias managed a small smile.

"Oh you know!" he said, trying to sound cheery. "I think I wanna take a break for a while! No more stuffy lame parties for a long time! I'll get a house somewhere nice and just have a good time!"

Emil opened his mouth to respond, but his watch began beeping. He jumped up from his seat and stopped his watch.

"Sorry! I have to...um...go...I'll be right back!" he said, practically bolting out.

Mathias barely had time to process what happened before the door opened and a familiar figure walked through. Emil was right, he did come right back. Only something was different. Mathias got a second look and felt himself stiffen up.

"No way," he whispered under his breath.

Lukas was scanning the room with furrowed brows. He carefully made his way through the now more crowded bar, looking at every patron as if he lost something. Mathias found him jumping up from his seat and weaving his way through the tables and chairs towards Lukas. In all honesty, he had no idea what he was doing or what he was going to say to him once he got there. He just knew he had to meet Lukas.

Ok, I'll open with an apology! Yeah! 'Sorry for being an ass during the interview!'. Then maybe I can ask him to get a drink or something or-

Mathias felt something bump against his chest that caused him to take a step back. He snapped back to reality and noticed someone sprawled on the floor in front of him.

"Woah are you ok!? My bad! I totally didn't see you there!" he cried out, a bit too loudly.

Mathias stuck out his hand. The person on the floor sat up a bit, rubbing their arm.

"Sorry...I'm just looking for my brother..." the person replied quietly.

They reached out and grabbed Mathias's hand, finally making eye contact. And at that moment, Mathias knew it was all over. Lukas's hand was so soft and warm in his own, he couldn't imagine ever letting go of it. The feeling of his hands sent electricity through his veins. Falling to the ground made his hair a little messy, strands of blonde hair covering his face, and he was partially tangled up in a long white scarf. But what made Mathias know he was done for was Lukas's eyes. Like Emil, they were so blue they seemed violet, but Lukas's were different. They always seemed so cold in the pictures Mathias has seen of him. Those weren't the eyes he met. Mathias saw soft eyes, like a child's. There was concern in them, maybe even a little embarrassment. Lukas's eyes managed to see right through Mathias straight into his soul. He felt his heart flutter for a moment and a warmth spread to his cheeks. And with that, his whole world turned upside down.

Lukas had already begun pulling himself up when he finally recognized the man attached to the hand.

"Thank y- WAIT A MINUTE YOU'RE-"

Lukas's grip on Mathias's hand slipped and he found he found himself crashing back onto the floor with another loud thud. All Mathias could manage to do was stare for a moment before forcing himself to offer his hand again, praying Lukas would take it.

"Hi...I'm...um...I'm Mathias...nice to meet you..." was the only thing he could get to come out, feeling the least confident he'd ever felt in his life.

Lukas hesitated for a moment before taking Mathias's hand.

--- Next Chapter: 3-Coming Soon!

a/n: I'm so excited to be writing this! Things are definitely gonna start getting more interesting in the next chapter!  I’m going to take this time to plug my non-hetalia work “ Intro to Love ” about a college student who struggles to keep her superpowers a secret and while making new friends.  How much of her normal life will she give up to save her friends from a mysterious villain that drains students’ brains and turns them into zombies? The complete Chapter 1 is out NOW! And Chapter 2.1-'The last of the Good Days' will be out in the next couple of days!

Thanks again for reading! Send some feedback my way! Can’t wait to continue this story!

Quotev link: here

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Life of the Party

This is the fluffiest thing I’ve ever written and it still involves a swingers’ party. But seriously, other than the setting, this whole thing is just humor and boy-meets-girl cuteness. 

Pairing: Adam Cole x reader

Word count: 2,117

Content advisory: nothing beyond the setting

“Could you please stop acting so uptight?” Jeanie asks, poking you hard in the ribs. “You said you wanted to try it.”

Yes, you have to admit, you did say that you wanted to try it. Jeanie had been sharing her stories with you and Ellen about going to the swinger parties hosted by a physiotherapist who regularly attended Jeanie’s yoga classes and her husband, and a month ago, she’d finally persuaded Ellen to come along to one. Ellen had been so impressed that she’d talked about it for a week nonstop and you finally had to concede that, yes, you were curious and that you did want to come along the next time there was an opportunity. And you had wanted to come along. You wanted to get into the spirit of liberation and exploration that these nights offered. But here you were, walking into a party with a very select guest list and all you could think of to do was make wisecracks. 

Jeanie and Ellen were both insistent that you keep your mind open, to which you responded that you couldn’t keep your mind and legs open at the same time, which got a chortle but also a withering look from both of them. Your inclination was to separate from the crowd with them and to pass the night making catty comments. They, however, preferred to circulate and see who might be interested and what they might be interested in. Normally, sarcasm and irony were the weapons you used to prevent yourself from feeling vulnerable. But normally, your friends would be right beside you. Tonight, they weren’t so interested in smart remarks and were more interested in seeing what kind of adventure they could find. It was almost like disinterestedly scanning through Tinder and getting frustrated by playing eye contact games with guys in bars wasn’t enough for them anymore. 

It took exactly 38 minutes for you to completely lose your sense of ironic invincibility. You know this because you’ve been able to time it on your phone. In those first minutes, you were joking with Jeanie and Ellen, then they chose to migrate into the crowd and started chatting with a few people. Then you’d just chilled on your own and thought it was funny how everyone else seemed to be trying to hook up with someone. Then it had occurred to you that everyone else was hooking up with someone, almost as if being open about what they wanted was something that wasn’t a source of humiliation for them the way it was for you. Then you’d realized that you were standing by yourself, protected by an impenetrable wall of sarcasm, completely isolated while everyone around you was getting laid. 

You’d sure showed them. You alone had discovered the secret to not having sex at a party the point of which was to make sure that everyone had all the sex they wanted. Lucky for you that the guests were so distracted that it was easy to just steal alcohol from the refrigerator. It was like you were doing the hosts a favor, making sure that the supplies they laid in didn’t go to waste. There were little hors d’oeuvres on trays catered from a company whose treats didn’t come cheap, so you grabbed plate full of those too and retired to the back patio to feel awkward and superior and incredibly envious that there were people who could just approach other human beings and tell them they wanted to have sex with them and get it. 

This goes fine for about fifteen minutes, or two full glasses of wine and about half the plate of exquisite mini pastries and vegetable art, at which point another solitary figure slinks out onto the patio with you. There is immediately a dirigible of silence between you, swollen with mutual desire, the desire to be left alone and to have no one notice you. On the other hand, it is also fueled by the awareness that the two of you are the party’s resident weirdos and that social convention demands that you try to forge some kind of connection so that you can eventually make eye contact and fall in love or something. It’s you who gives in first. 

“Miniature sausage?”

The tumescent blimp of tension between you deflates as the man looks up with a combination of defensiveness and hostility. 

You press the still half-eaten plate towards him. “They ordered these individual mini sausages with gourmet ingredients and everything. There’s like four different kinds and they all look like they’re made by hand. I mean, I can’t imagine they found a machine that could make them this size.”

He’s still giving you a bit of a suspicious look, scanning you for any sign that you’re mocking him but gradually he drags his chair a little closer to observe the food you’re proffering. He snatches up a tiny deconstructed spanakopita-type-thing that crumbles in an avalanche of phyllo crumbs over his dark shirt when he tries to take a bite. 

“Those are a bit tricky,” you commiserate. 

“So, you’re the… official taster?” he kids, obviously trying to project a bit of cool as he brushes himself more or less clean. 

“Sure, we can go with that.” You once again extend the plate to let him try something else and, after allowing his hand to hover a moment, he takes one of the perfect little sausages. 

“Ok,” he says, nodding, “you have a point. These are pretty awesome.”

You resist the urge to say ‘I told you so’ by pushing one of the salmon-lemongrass wraps into your mouth. 

“You prefer fish?” he grins. 

“I just like to eat.”

He laughs a little and, as ridiculously clichéd as it is, you bat your eyelashes because now that you’re able to get a better look at him, you feel your thighs inadvertently press together. He is really good looking. His light brown hair is drawn back into a loose chignon, and he has that perfected, give-a-shit scruff you’ve seen in musicians and you hope to god that he’s not one of those because they’re always such cocky assholes. But what really draws you in are the bright, sparkling, mischievous blue eyes. You can’t stop staring at them and into them, imaging what they’d look like sparked with lust and… you realize it’s been an inappropriately long time since either of you has said anything. 

He takes your last oyster, the bastard, and tips the shell against his mouth, allowing the flesh to slide through his lips and over his tongue that flashes out for just a second to capture the drops of briny liquor. The change in his expression shows that he’s definitely caught you looking in a way that’s entirely appropriate to the party inside. 

“So why aren’t you enjoying the main course?” you ask, trying not to be quite so obvious and hitching your head in the direction of the house. 

“I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing here,” he sighs. “I was with my girlfriend, well, my ex-girlfriend now, for seven years. Two weeks ago I came home from a tour a day early and I run into her with her movers clearing all her stuff out of our condo. Braden’s my nutritionist and told me he and Sheryl were having this party and he thought it might be a good chance for me to shake off some of the… well, you know. Seven years with the same girl and now I’m single.”

Everything after “home from a tour” is a sort of verbal soup to you. A tour. He is a musician. Oh no. 

“What about you?” he asks. “How did you end up on Fuck Island?”

“My friend Jeanie is Sheryl’s yoga instructor,” you squeak, wishing very much to leave it at that. He gives you a pointed stare and a smile that seems to light up the entire yard and so, feeling more than a little self-conscious, you continue, “My husband left me about a year ago and I haven’t been… well, I haven’t dated anyone since then and Jeanie figured that this might be a good opportunity to get back in the saddle.”

He gives you another big smile and you think, or at least hope, that there’s a bit of a flirtatious glint in his eye. “I didn’t know they had a saddle too.”

It’s a silly joke but it does make you laugh and that makes you feel a little less awkward that you basically told a complete stranger that you got your ass dumped and hadn’t had sex since. Still, you’re eager to move on. 

“So you’re a musician?”

“What? Oh, because I was on tour. No, I’m a professional wrestler.”

And that, you think, might be worse than a musician, because it’s sort of like being a jock version of a rock star, right? All of the testosterone and none of the creativity? 

“What do you do?” he asks, pleasantly enough. 

“I’m the curator at the A.E. Backus Gallery.”

His dazzling eyes widen. “Wow…” he stammers, “Art.”

You giggle and pour yourself another glass of wine. “Wow… Wrestling.”

He leans in and takes the bottle from you, gulping directly from it as he leans back into his chair. “I’m not really arty.”

“Not at all?”

“Does videogame art count?”

“It can,” you answer, pushing a note of gentle humor into your voice. 

“Well then I guess I’m a bit of a collector. Maybe you can sell me something.” He hitches his eyebrows a little and it is endearing. 

“I didn’t know wrestling paid so well.”

“It does when you’re as good at it as I am,” he grins, taking another long swig from the wine bottle. 

His arm is slowly moving towards you and you’ve leaned forward so that you’re at once helping to close the distance between you and giving him a nice view of the tops of your breasts, something which does not appear to go unappreciated. Feeling a little cheeky, you take a big drink from your wine glass and allow a drop to fall from your lips. As you were hoping, he reaches over and brushes it away with his thumb. His eyes are definitely more intense, more curious and threaded with a hint of lust and they are every bit as thrilling as you thought they would be. 

“I’m Adam,” he whispers. 

“Eva,” you tell him, and you both laugh a little at that. 

“So I guess we really should be naked.”

“Or if we felt self-conscious, I think that one of the hors d’oeuvres has some minced grape or fig leaves.”

“Are you suggesting that I would be able to cover myself with just a tiny sausage?”

You laugh again and blush because his hand is still resting against your face, stroking your cheek ever so softly. 

His eyes flicker towards the house and he struggles for a minute to form words, his jaw twitching a little with the effort. And as much as you feel yourself growing damp at the idea of being with him, the idea of doing so in a sauna of sex mist is not working for you. 

“I cannot tell you,” he begins finally, waving a hand towards the indoors, “how uncomfortable I am with this whole thing.”

“Oh,” you exhale in sweet relief, “you don’t need to tell me because I just… This is not my scene. No judgment but this just isn’t going to work as a way of getting back out there.”

He gives you a wink. “Eva, would you like to go somewhere and not have sex with me for a bit?”

You look down at what you’re wearing, dismayed. “I’m basically wearing lingerie.”

“You look beautiful.”

“I feel naked.”

“It’s ok,” he assures you. “I know an amazing place to get drive through. You know. If that’s something art gallery girls can get into.”

“I can get into that.”

He stands and offers you his arm, the muscle flexing a little as he helps you up and sending an electric shiver through your core. Toned and firm but not the bulked-up, steroid-ridden balloon you would have imagined all pro wrestlers to possess. You bite your lip and he definitely notices, edging just a little closer to you,

“I really hope no one’s fucking in my car,” he says wistfully. 

“I’m so glad I came here in a cab.”

The two of you share a conspiratorial glance as you pick your way down the driveway and onto the street towards his hopefully unoccupied car. No sex for a bit, you tell yourself, but maybe not too long of a bit.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #461

“this city looks so pretty, do you wanna burn it with me?”

Have you ever wanted a Nikon camera? Or do you have one already? My camera before the one I have now was a Nikon D3200. I use a Canon now. Who was the last person (if anyone) you said Happy Birthday to? A friend. Do you have Photoshop? If so, how often a day do you use it? I have it, but I barely use it nowadays. I use it to edit photos for character profiles or profile pictures, add a watermark for my actual photography, and I used to make Mark-oriented gifs like crazy. They mostly did really well, so... I might wanna get back into that and get That Sweet Validation. Do you watch any shows that you know your parents wouldn’t approve of? No. Have any of your exes gotten married or had kids since your breakup? None, I think. Do either of your parents have a mental illness? My mom has depression. Can you tolerate children for a long period of time? NO. Have you ever lived with someone you felt thoroughly uncomfortable around? No. Are you into dubstep? Yeah, I tend to enjoy it. Zelda or The Sims games? Can I pick neither? lol I don't feel very much at all for The Sims, and Zelda games have always looked... boring to me? Like I've watched most of the Game Grumps' playthroughs of all the games, and they make it hilarious of course, but the games themselves? Nah. Are you terrible at assigning bands their proper genre? YES YES YES YES YES YES. Even in my preferred category, that being metal, FUCK if I know the sub-genre. Have you ever made out in a closet? No, that shit sounds claustrophobic as hell. Have you ever been to a laser tag place? Yeah, on a triple-date once! It was SO fun. How do you wanna celebrate your next birthday? Have a couple friends over, pig out at The Cheesecake Factory. o3o Do you tease your parents about them being old? No, especially not Mom. She's self-conscious about getting older. Are you in love with someone? "In love" is a bit too far, buddy. But I love someone. Have you ever ridden a unicycle? No. Have you ever wanted a pet bunny? I was VERY serious about getting a lop-eared bunny for quite a while, but we just couldn't afford to adopt one (even off Craigslist) and get a cage for it, toys, etc. Are the bottom of your feet clean? I HATE seeing the bottom of my feet. Not because they're dirty, but because it's Callus City. I ain't even fuckin jokin'. Do you like really salty food? Yeah. :x When’s the last time you bled a lot? Well, I just recently finished my cycle after not menstruating for three or four MONTHS, so you can figure that one out. Have you ever watched a needle go into your own skin? Yeah. I like to know exactly when it's coming. Have you ever seen someone get a piercing/tattoo? Yes to both. When you’re done eating finger foods, do you usually lick your fingers? Usually kasdjlf;kalsdjf shut up ok I like food. What’s the most racist thing you have ever said? As a little kid, when my really good friend (a neighborhood kid, even) asked if he thought we'd be a good couple, I told him no because "blacks and whites don't date" or something like that. It was an idea I'd never been exposed to before; the idea was so foreign to little kid me. I had no idea I was being racist. It ended in a small fight and we didn't talk for a few days 'til he came to my house telling Mom that he had to "be a man" and fix this and if that ain't the cUTEST SHIT RIGHT THERE. We were friends again after that. He's still on my Facebook, and he actually semi-recently got married! :') Do you know someone that is mute, deaf or blind? No. Have you ever spent more than two weeks in a wheelchair? No. Does weed smell good? Or no? Ugh, no. Where do you see your closest friend in ten years? Successful and happy she kept pushing. Mama to so many reptiles that are blessed with the best lives possible in human care. Got at least one amazing book out there. If she's reading this, you've fucking got this. <3 Would you like to have twins? Mother of fucking god, no. Even if I WANTED kids, do fucking not give me twins. Who was the last person you got into an argument with? My mom. Want to have kids before you’re 30? Once again, I don't want kids, but IF I did, that'd be preferable before the risk of birth defects and other issues climb with age. Does anybody have a tattoo with your name on it? My older sister has my initial. Do you think somebody’s in love with you? No. Do you think you and your best friend will be friends in ten years? Yes, I genuinely do. Who were the last people to hang out at your house? Miss Tobey, our friend and landlord. Does anyone like you? Welp... I hope he still does. Guess we'll figure that out soon. What person on your Facebook do you talk to the most? VIA Facebook? Probably my friend Lyndsey. She likes to comment on stuff I share. Do you want to fall in love? I do, but I'm also utterly horrified to and risk being hurt again. Are you interested in more than one person at the moment? No. Once I realized I was so deeply into Girt, all other romantic feelings kinda just... poofed. How was your last break up? Civil and done with both of our best interests in mind. What is the hardest thing you’ve ever had to say? Probably the first time I admitted I needed to go to the hospital for suicidal thoughts. I was so, so scared of what it was going to be like. What is the hardest thing you NEEDED to hear? That if Jason wasn't happy with me, he had every right to move on. She was right. Do you treat yourself well? No... but I'm trying to change that. What was the last song you sang out loud to? This "Set Fire to the Rain" cover. Do you take good pictures? I think I do? Have you ever done any internship? No. What’s a topic you’ve drastically changed your opinion on? Holy shit, so much, especially when it comes to morality and political stances. I am now a massive supporter and member of the LGBTQ+ community, I'm pro-trans rights, pro-choice... I've done like a dozen 180s in a lot of topics. Do you know anyone who has a PhD? I mean, some doctors, but no one in my truly personal life. Do you know anyone who works as a lawyer? Yes: my cousin. Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? LAKSDJFKLA;JWD NEVER AND I PRAY TO THE HOLY LORD THAT I NEVER DO. Does the thought of having wrinkles when you’re older upset you? Not massively? Like literally everyone gets them and is natural and inevitable. Do you know anyone who’s struggling with addiction? I know one alcoholic, and one that's probably borderline. I also have two friends who are extremely addicted to weed. Look me in the eyes and say it's not an addictive substance and I wouldn't believe you one bit. Is there a video or computer game that you can get lost in for hours? Eh, sometimes World of Warcraft. Some days I'm really into it, and others I barely touch it. What’s your favorite Disney Channel movie? I have no clue. I don't even remember movies that were made *for* Disney exclusively. Do you ever have to do yard work? No. We have a friend from the dance studio mow the lawn. Do you have any live versions of songs in your music software? My iPod has a whole live album of Ozzy. Did you or do you listen to Britney Spears songs? Both did and do. Britney is a boss bitch. Does your favorite band have a male or female lead singer? Male. Have you seen the movie Moulin Rouge? No, but I've seen some of that P!nk music video of the song and it brings out the Gay in me. Do you have a key to anything besides your house? No. Could you ever complete a 500-piece puzzle? I've done that before. I miss doing puzzles... Have you ever been to any sort of convention? I went to a reptile expo with Sara!! I REALLY want to go to another when my legs are stronger and can handle standing and walking so much. Is your mom or dad the older parent? Mom. Have you ever tried to walk on a moving vehicle and fallen over? No????? What is your favourite kind of bread? Is there any of that in your house? Pumpernickel. No. Are/were you in the school band, and if so, what instrument did you play? I played the flute all through middle school and I wanna say half of HS. Have you ever ordered an unusual drink at a bar? Never even been to one. Have you ever been pulled aside by security at the airport? I think once for some reason I don't recall? What is your favourite seasonal candy? (only available at certain times) Gingerbread men, probs. Or chocolate bunnies!!! :') How do you feel right now? My stomach is KILLING me. I'm super excited though that Girt is coming over tomorrow. Have you ever had surgery that kept you in the hospital for over a day? No. What would you like your generation to change? How we treat nature. Is there anyone that you truly could not live without? No. I learned that is a very unhealthy mentality to have. Do you like carrots more if they’re raw, or cooked? I just hate carrots. What restaurant did you last go out to dinner at with friends? With friends? I couldn't even guess. Does your refrigerator have an ice maker or do you use ice cube trays? It has an ice maker. Do you have a favorite sibling, if any? No; I love them all. Do you have a favorite brand of clothing? I STAN CLOAK. How’s the love life? Something new might start tomorrow. I think it will. Do you watch the news? No; that shit is depressing. Who do you admire most? Mark. Do you have a favorite album? Black Rain by Ozzy Osbourne takes the cake and always will.

[tsukikoayanosuke]

The Other Side

Summary:

Ace was looking for a new member for their little pirate crew and happens to find a familiar (former) knight.

('Twisted-Wonderland: Our Precious Treasure' 10K Hits celebration)

(Fantasy/Pirate/Steampunk AU)

Ace wasn't expecting a familiar blunette standing behind the dirty bar, wiping a glass. The way he wrinkled his nose showing how out of place he was. Ace knew his high moral compass. A knight like him wasn't supposed to have a side job, in a bar nonetheless. What is he doing here? Well, there is one way to find out. Putting up his best grin, Ace walked up to the bar. "Well, well, well. What do we have here?"

The young man turned toward him and Ace was slightly surprised by the lack of his usual spade tattoo, a symbol of those who serve the Kingdom of Heartslabyul, he was proud of on his face. He, Deuce, frowned at him. "What do you want, Phantom Thief?"

Ace held back a giggle. "Oh, nothing much." He sat on one of the stools, arm rested on the bar as he watched the blunette. "Though I can't call myself the Phantom Theif anymore. Have a new job, you see."

Deuce's lips curled up. "Well, good for all of us then. We don't need petty thieves like you in this kingdom."

"Now, now." Ace wiggled his index finger like a scolding mother. "I'm the one who made the knights' night patrol more eventful, aren't I?" His eyes squinted. "But I guess, I can't ask you that since you're not a knight anymore."

Deuce put down the glass he was cleaning a bit too hard on the counter. His glare toward Ace became more intense. "Look. If you don't have anything important here, I suggest you get out," he growled as if he was holding back from throwing him out of the window.

Ace raised his hand, palm open, showing that he was unarmed. Deuce didn't stop glaring, obviously upset that Ace managed to hit the sore spot. "On the contrary." His lips curled up again into a playful smile. "I think I have something for you."

"What do you mean?"

Ace knew he had to choose the right words or else the blunette might kill him. Even back in those days, he was the only knight who was able to catch up with him, chasing him from the ground as he jumped from roof to roof with his stolen goods, nearly catching him several times. Ace took a deep breath before saying, "I may not know what happen that made you leave. But I can offer a safe haven."

Deuce squinted his eyes but make no move to punch him which Ace took as a good sign. It's showtime. He smirked before starting up. "Right here, right now. I put the offer out. You don't need to chase me down, so try to see this."

Deuce rolled his eyes, had enough of the Phantom Thief's sweet talks. But Ace suddenly jumped over to the bar counter, blocking the startled Deuce's. "You run with me, and I can cut you free. Out of the drudgery and walls you keep in."

Picking up some bottles, Ace started to juggle them. Of course, Deuce didn't appreciate this much but didn't dare to step in and risk of wasted alcohol. He almost looked cute pouting like that. Ace laughed. "So trade that typical for something colorful. And if it's crazy, live a little crazy." He threw the bottles, sliding them across the bar, noting the squeak from the blunette who stopped the bottles from falling. "You can play it sensible, a knight of conventional." Once Ace was sure Deuce finished rearranging the bottles he took the blunette by the hand. "Or you can risk it all and see..."

With the upper hand in strength right now, Ace pulled Deuce so they jumped on to the bar counter together. He brought them close together as he took him into a simple dance across the counter. "Don't you wanna get away from the same old part you gotta play? 'Cause I got what you need. So, come with me and take the ride. It'll take you to the other side."

Deuce pulled away, but Ace grabbed his hand again. "'Cause you can do like you do. Or you can do like me," he added with a shrug. "Stay in the cage, or you finally take the key." He took a few steps back before spinning around with his arms stretched out wide. "Oh, damn! Suddenly you're free to fly. It'll take you to the other side."

The blunette rolled his eyes. "And what is this 'other side' you're talking about?"

Ace grinned. This is it. This is the make or break moment. "An adventure of a lifetime across the sea."

Deuce was quick to take the hint. "Pirate?" he spatted, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "That's even worst than being the Phantom Theif."

"Aw, come on," Ace slowly walked toward him. "Where is your sense of adventure?"

Before he could get close, Deuce pressed his hand onto his chest stopping him. "Okay, my friend, you wanna cut me in. Well, I hate to tell you, but it just won't happen." He jumped off the counter and Ace followed him. "So thanks, but no. I think I'm good to go. 'Cause I quite enjoy the life you say I'm trapped in."

A hand suddenly slammed itself next to his head. Turning around with his back pressed against the cupboard behind him, he saw how close Ace's face was, but he quickly ducked under the arm to got away. "Now I admire you, and that whole show you do. You're on to something, really it's something," he said without looking back at him. Instead, his gaze was focused on the thing behind the window where two knights in red and white armor passed by. Deuce bit his lips, his fingers curled up into a fist. "But I lived among the swells, and we didn't pick up oyster shells," he continued. "I'll have to leave that up to you."

He turned around and Ace could finally see the frustration sparking from his eyes. "Don't you know that I'm OK with this uptown part I used to play?" Deuce said, stepping forward slowly toward Ace with a hand scrunching his chest. "'Cause I got what I need and I don't wanna take the ride. I don't need to see the other side!"

Even his voice was getting louder. Deuce didn't know whether he was trying to convince Ace or himself. "So go and do like you do. I'm good to do like me. Ain't in a cage, so I don't need to take the key." Deuce stopped when he was just a few centimeters away from Ace. The ginger could see how Deuce's eyes started to teared up. "Oh, damn! Can't you see I'm doing fine? I don't need to see the other side!"

Ace reached for Deuce's face, gently wiping the tear that was falling. It managed to stop Deuce from screaming again, but he was still breathing hard in anger. "Now is this really how you'd like to spend your days? Whiskey and misery, and parties and plays?"

Deuce sighed. "Even if I'm not with you, I've been the talk of the town. Disgraced and disowned, another one of you clowns."

Ace pressed both hands onto Deuce's cheek, making him look eyes to eyes. "But you would finally live a little, finally laugh a little. Just let me give you the freedom to dream and it'll wake you up and cure your aching, take your walls and start 'em breaking." He ended with a grin. "Now that's a deal that seems worth taking! But I guess I'll leave that up to you..."

There was a silence between him when Ace sang the last line. Slowly he pulled his hand back, in turn, leaning in next to Deuce's ear. "We'll be waiting at the dock when the full moon is at its highest point." He pulled back, smiling at Deuce. "See you tonight, Little Knight." With that, Ace walked out, leaving a stunned Deuce behind.

Later that night, the small crew of Night Fury cheered for their new member.

[thechosenburrito]

The Heart Gambit (Dennor): 2-The Arbiter

Word Count: 1,566

Summary: Mathias and Emil meet the day after the party for drinks but things take a surprising turn when Emil has to leave suddenly. Author's Note: Yay next chapter! Sorry it's a little late! I had a great time writing it so I hope you enjoy it and do leave me some feedback so I can keep getting better! Previous: 1-Where I want to Be --- Mathias took a swig of his drink. The bar was mostly quiet except for some old men having a conversation in the corner, occasionally punching through the quiet with bouts of hearty laughter. He anticipated the noise would pick up as the night went on and hoped his drink would loosen his nerves. His plan was to persuade Emil to introduce him to Lukas, but Mathias was having doubts. He'd spent the last night tossing and turn in his hotel room. Should I say I'm sorry for saying he doesn't have a life? Would he believe me? Why do I care what he thinks? Mathias wasn't really sure why he wanted to talk to Lukas so badly.

He thought back to the conversation he had with Alfred last night. All Mathias has to do was shake hands and be relatively polite; win them over with 'charm'. He'd done it a million times before. He remembered how much fun it was at the beginning of his career. He liked seeing people smile and laugh when he was loud or made a snarky comment. No one has seen a Chess player like that before. Breaking the stereotype worked in his favor for a long time, but the more Mathias thought about how he felt about keeping up this facade, the more the same thought came to his mind: I'm tired. This wasn't the first time he had this thought. It started maybe a year ago, and to say it scared him was an understatement. He couldn't fathom losing everything he worked for at the time. He relished the fame and loved his lifestyle. But these days, he had half a mind to be a no-show at the match and run away to a small village nearby and spend the rest of his days breathing in the fresh air, soaking in the sunlight. Mathias quickly zoned back in as he heard the door open. Emil stepped through, looking much different from the night before. Rather than the suit and tie from last night, he was wearing a striped button-down shirt and brown jacket that looked as if it had been hastily thrown on. Emil looked over at him. He stared for a moment before recognizing Mathias and walking over. He didn't blame him for not recognizing him. When he's not as some stuffy get-together, Mathais wore his hair much wilder and popped the collars of his shirts. Mathias also wouldn't be surprised if he looked like he went through a tornado considering how tired he was when he got dressed. At this point, it wouldn't phase him to learn he was wearing two left shoes or one black and one brown. Emil made his way over to Mathias's table and sat across from him. Emil looked a little stiff and his gaze was fixed on the table. He chuckled a bit. "You know, part of me did think you'd show up," he said with a half-smile. Mathias beamed. "Of course! I wanted to finish our conversation from last night! Talking about your brother is way more fun than a stuffy party! To be fair, it's also way more fun when you're not AT the stuffy party!" he laughed. "'Though, I'm kinda curious. What about you, huh? Emil was taken aback a bit. Just last night, Mathias was mostly well-behaved with a bit of an ego. Now he's asking about him? Everything Lukas told him made it seem like Mathias would be the kind of guy to spend half the time talking about how great he is and the other half talking sponsorship and bulldozing rainforests. "Well, there's not much to talk about." He shifted a bit in his seat. "It's just been me and Lukas for a long time. When he picked up Chess and started getting serious, I joined him. I never really liked competing, though. So I ended up becoming his second. Now my job is to make sure he actually eats food instead of just reading. The rest is history." Mathias took a swig from his drink. "So why stick around, huh? If you don't like the whole competition scene then...well I guess I'm asking what you'd be doing if you weren't doing chess?" he implored with a childlike smile. Emil scratched at his palm. "I... well... I've always wanted to go back to school. It's not like I'm that old or anything! I used to wanted to go to school for geology or something like that," Emil said, his face lighting up. "I've always like volcanoes and things like that!" Mathias gave a bit smile. "That's so cool! You should tell me what lava feels like when you get to touch it!" he exclaimed. Emil raised an eyebrow. "I don't think... never mind. So what about you, huh? Got any plans for after the match?" Emil asked, stealing glances at his watch. Mathias paused for a moment. He couldn't exactly say he hadn't thought about it before. Of course he has. But no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't think of somewhere he wanted to be. He couldn't see himself as any conventional job like a lawyer, teacher, and certainly not an office

worker. If he was honest with himself, he didn't really fit any job in particular. He didn't have a higher purpose anymore. Chess became his life, his life became chess, and he was scared of who he would be without it. He lost so much to Chess, but he most regretted the time he lost, the life he wouldn't get back. Maybe that's what he would do. Spend the rest of his life making up for all the time he lost at uncomfortable parties, being purposely arrogant and hurtful, and for every game he played after he realized it didn't make him happy anymore. Mathias managed a small smile. "Oh you know!" he said, trying to sound cheery. "I think I wanna take a break for a while! No more stuffy lame parties for a long time! I'll get a house somewhere nice and just have a good time!" Emil opened his mouth to respond, but his watch began beeping. He jumped up from his seat and stopped his watch. "Sorry! I have to...um...go...I'll be right back!" he said, practically bolting out. Mathias barely had time to process what happened before the door opened and a familiar figure walked through. Emil was right, he did come right back. Only something was different. Mathias got a second look and felt himself stiffen up. "No way," he whispered under his breath. Lukas was scanning the room with furrowed brows. He carefully made his way through the now more crowded bar, looking at every patron as if he lost something. Mathias found him jumping up from his seat and weaving his way through the tables and chairs towards Lukas. In all honesty, he had no idea what he was doing or what he was going to say to him once he got there. He just knew he had to meet Lukas. Ok, I'll open with an apology! Yeah! 'Sorry for being an ass during the interview!'. Then maybe I can ask him to get a drink or something or- Mathias felt something bump against his chest that caused him to take a step back. He snapped back to reality and noticed someone sprawled on the floor in front of him. "Woah are you ok!? My bad! I totally didn't see you there!" he cried out, a bit too loudly. Mathias stuck out his hand. The person on the floor sat up a bit, rubbing their arm. "Sorry...I'm just looking for my brother..." the person replied quietly. They reached out and grabbed Mathias's hand, finally making eye contact. And at that moment, Mathias knew it was all over. Lukas's hand was so soft and warm in his own, he couldn't imagine ever letting go of it. The feeling of his hands sent electricity through his veins. Falling to the ground made his hair a little messy, strands of blonde hair covering his face, and he was partially tangled up in a long white scarf. But what made Mathias know he was done for was Lukas's eyes. Like Emil, they were so blue they seemed violet, but Lukas's were different. They always seemed so cold in the pictures Mathias has seen of him. Those weren't the eyes he met. Mathias saw soft eyes, like a child's. There was concern in them, maybe even a little embarrassment. Lukas's eyes managed to see right through Mathias straight into his soul. He felt his heart flutter for a moment and a warmth spread to his cheeks. And with that, his whole world turned upside down. Lukas had already begun pulling himself up when he finally recognized the man attached to the hand. "Thank y- WAIT A MINUTE YOU'RE-" Lukas's grip on Mathias's hand slipped and he found he found himself crashing back onto the floor with another loud thud. All Mathias could manage to do was stare for a moment before forcing himself to offer his hand again, praying Lukas would take it. "Hi...I'm...um...I'm Mathias...nice to meet you..." was the only thing he could get to come out, feeling the least confident he'd ever felt in his life. Lukas hesitated for a moment before taking Mathias's hand.

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Next Chapter: 3-One-Way Screen a/n: I'm so excited to be writing this! Things are definitely gonna start getting more interesting in the next chapter!  I’m going to take this time to plug my non-hetalia work “ Intro to Love ” about a college student who

struggles to keep her superpowers a secret and while making new friends.  How much of her normal life will she give up to save her friends from a mysterious villain that drains students’ brains and turns them into zombies? The complete Chapter 1 is out NOW! And Chapter 2.1-'The last of the Good Days' will be out in the next couple of days! Thanks again for reading! Send some feedback my way! Can’t wait to continue this story! Quotev link: here

[princessjungeun]

Soulmates: Chaeyoung x Reader

Request: For the Soulmate au I was thinking along the lines of Y/N being a foreign exchange student in Korea and when out exploring she runs into Chaeyoung (Twice) and boom they realize they’re each other’s soulmate. As for how they know, you can do the whole having tattoos that only the soulmate can see, or like the world is black and white but turns to color when they meet, or however you’d like for it to work out😁

I’ve never written a soulmate AU so i’m sorry if this is not what you wanted 🥺 i tried my best tho 💕

You shuffled through pictures that filled empty shoe boxes. It was the day before you were supposed to leave for your study abroad trip. You were selected to take part in a study abroad program in Seoul. You had always dreamed of going to back to Korea and now it was finally happening. You were born there and spent much of your childhood there. However you loved after your mom got a new job in New York.

“Mom where did you take this?” You held up a photo of you as a small infant. Your mom responded “that was the hospital right after you were born. They couldn’t put you in with the rest of the babies because it cried too much!” She laughed at the memory. You pointed to another woman in the back who was also holding an infant “Ma who’s that?” Your mom responded “i’m not sure. It was a public area in the maternity ward. Probably just another mom.”

You held up another picture and asked “when was this picture taken?” She held the photo in her hand and said “this was the first vacation we went on as a family. You were four in this I believe.” You looked and saw a little you in a polka dot bathing suit, holding a sand pail and shovel.

You fished out another picture, this time you all were at Disney World. You smiled and said “Oh my gosh I remember this! This is when I wanted to wear a princess dress and you told me no but I didn’t listen!” Your mom looked at the picture of you pouting with Cinderella and said “I’d never seen a little girl like you so unhappy when you were surrounded by princesses and candy. After all they were your 7 year old obsession.”

You dug out another one, this time you looked to be about ten years old. “This is when we went to Paris!” You looked at the failed Eiffel Tower on finger attempt photo your dad took. It made it harder because there were people everywhere.

The last picture you found was a recent one, you went to K Con LA as a birthday gift from your mom. She flew you out and reserved a hotel room under your name. You met up with her close friend who drove you to and from the venue each day, as well as letting you spend a few extra nights at her house when your flight got rescheduled. You remembered when the picture was taken, your mom’s friend making you stand in front of the convention center everyday. You remembered being embarrassed about it at the time but you were really happy about it now.

*TIME SKIP*

You’ve been in Korea for two weeks already. Your roommate Roseanne was very quick to become your closest friend. She also spoke English and Korean so many of your conversations were in a weird form of Konglish.

“Hey I have a friend who reminds me a lot of you...can I give you her number?” Roseanne asked you nervously. You laughed and said “you already did didnt you?” She nodded eagerly and said “yeah kind of and I also invited her over but before you can get excited...I forgot Lisa and I have a date today.”

You told her “it’s fine Rosie just go on ahead on your little date. Tell Lali I said hi too and we need to dance together soon, it’s been too long.” She hugged you and said “you’re the best oh my god thank you!”

You patiently waited around for Rosie’s friend to arrive and after about twenty minutes, she did. You opened the door and you saw a small girl. Not only that but also one of the lost beautiful people you’d ever seen in your life.

“Hi I’m Chaeyoung.” She introduced herself shyly. You asked “wait wait. Chaeyoung? Like Rosie Chaeyoung?” She nodded happily “yeah we share a name, I think that’s why we get along so well!” You laughed at her. She was simply the most pure thing you’ve ever seen.

•

•

•

You and Chaeyoung hit it off that night, the two of you hadn’t stopped talking since. It’s been weeks and she’s still by your side. It was like she’d known you all of your life. You both loved the sam things, give or take a few. Everything you lacked, Chaeyoung bad and vice versa. It was like you completed each other.

“Hey whats all of this?” She pulled a shoebox from underneath your bed. You looked at the box then said “Oh it’s old pictures from when I was little. You can go through them if you’d like.”

She opened the box and picked up a picture “hey I didn’t know you were born in Korea.” You replied “yeah I was born in Seoul. I lived her for a while too.” She squinted at the picture she held in her hands and you asked “what’s wrong?” She responded “nothing I thought I saw something.”

She shuffled to the next picture and the next and the next looking more shocked as she went through each one. “Chaeng-ah what’s wrong? Is everything ok?” You got up and walked towards her.

She dropped the box and sprinted out of your room without hesitation. You chased after her but stopped when you got tired halfway down the hallway.

Chaeyoung returned ten minutes later with a brown paper bag. “What is that?” You pointed to the bag in her hands. She opened it and said “pictures.”

She pulled out five pictures and then pulled five of yours. She placed each of them next to each other before pulling you over to look at them. She shakily said “Y/N...give me your hand please” You asked “why?” She responded “i need to see your tattoo.” You told her “you’ve seen it a thousand times just like I’ve seen yours.” She snatched your hand and saw the small tomato that was tattooed on your finger.

She pulled her sleeve up and showed you her arm, the exact same tattoo. She pointed to the first picture, “that’s my mom, she was holding me.” The next picture “that’s me in the background.” She pointed to each of your pictures, pointing out herself. She then showed you her pictures, sure enough you were also in the background of every picture.

She turned to you “do you know what this means?” You asked “are you my soulmate?” She nodded and threw herself into your arms. You held her close knowing that this was the girl you’d spend not only this, but the next million lifetimes with too.