#if i can raise this one to adulthood i want to get a green bottle blue next just so i can name it bmo

[catmeme]

new, very hard to photograph, baby! it is so teeny tiny, like half the size of my thumb!!

i need name suggestions :•) my other tarantula is named marcy, after marceline the vampire queen, even though i recently discovered he's actually a boy lmao. but i wanna give this one an adventure time name too! i was thinking either bonnie or finn, but idk

[galaxytastes]

Jumin’s Birthday

Hi! This is my first post and, rightfully so, it will be a “little” 10 page long “drabble”. It’s pretty self indulgent and non-romantic. I’m a sucker for angst and platonic affection, so buckle up, simps. Thank you so much for reading!

Words: 3033

TW: Alcohol, mention of death. 

CW: Spoilers for the secret endings/Saeyoung’s after end 

Jumin Han has always been a curious person when it came to commoner practices. Whether it be family traditions, silly superstitions, or childlike games; all of it intrigues the man like nothing else. Even as a child, despite his privileged and sheltered upbringing, Jumin still felt the temptation to explore the world of the common folk. And who better to experience the unknown than with his best friend? The two would often find themselves lost in their own world. A world without responsibility. A world without heirs, businessmen or conglomerates. A world where two boys could be just that; boys. 

But, life is not so simple. Summers and winters pass. With time came more responsibilities and adulthood pressures. Long felt the days of childhood; that which there was not much to begin with. Despite the challenges and tribulations life threw at the pair, one tradition remains unshaken by time. Birthdays.

Slender fingers wrap impatiently around his Rolex as Jumin checks the clock. He sighs in annoyance, noticing how quickly the day flew by. On most work days, the director can barely wait to get out the door. While he certainly didn’t dislike his office, he much preferred most anywhere else once the clock ticked past 6 pm. But today was different. Today was October 5th. 

The dark haired man pinches the skin between his eyes and only looks up from his desk upon hearing the familiar clicking of heels up his office hallway. Jaehee knocks gently at the door and peers in from around the corner. The woman has a concerned look in her warm eyes, but Jumin can’t begin to worry about what was the matter. 

“Yes, Assistant Kang. Have you come to bother me more about Saeyoung’s complaints over my lack of celebrations this evening?” Jumin speaks to his assistant, his voice icey cold. “I understand, Mr. Han. I… did come in here to talk about that, but not because of Saeyoung. It’s just… it’s 7 pm and you’re still here. It’s your birthday, and you say you have plans. I was wondering w-” “I’m well aware of what today is.” The director hisses as his hands clench together on the wood desk. He sucks in a quick breath and immediately backpedals, offering Jaehee an apologetic look. “Forgive me. I’ve been getting bothered about this day for… weeks now.” The director sighs and stands from the desk, making no move to hurry himself on gathering his things. 

“No need for apologies, sir. I completely understand. I’m sure you’ve heard enough pushing from the others.” Jaehee dismisses his coldness and grabs his jacket from the stand near the door. She meets him halfway across the room and gives his arm a comforting squeeze as she hands him the coat. 

“I think everyone just wants to share today with you since we truly care. So, if you change your mind, do let us know, please?” The brunette woman smiles sadly at her boss, earning her a weak smile from him in return. His heart warms a bit at her genuine words and he almost wishes to take her up on her offer. But, he made a promise to a friend for this evening. As always, Jumin Han is a man of his word. 

“I will. Thank you, Assistant Kang.”

The ride to the venue is quiet, and most of the time Jumin prefers it this way. His days are loud and chaotic, full of phone calls and stuffy conversations. His backseat oasis behind his trusty Driver Kim is normally a breath of fresh air. But, tonight, it feels suffocating. Both hands rake through his thick hair and he quietly wades in the painful silence. As if on cue, a voice perks up from the driver’s seat. “Mr. Han. I’ve prepared the supplies for your evening. I assume it will be to your liking?” Driver Kim meets Jumin’s unusually scrambled gaze, and the tightness in the director’s chest loosens just enough to allow him another deep breath. 

“I appreciate you, Driver Kim. I’m sure it looks beautiful.” Jumin nods gratefully to the older man. “Did you happen to retrieve the bottle I’d set aside for this evening?” 

“Of course. It’s wrapped in the basket along with some other things I thought would pair well with the wine. You have exquisite taste as always, Mr. Han.” The man’s eyes crinkle behind his glasses as he clicks his turn signal to pull to a stop. 

“Thank you again… Ah. We’re here already?” Jumin looks out the window, admiring the landscape lit beautifully by the setting sun. “Right on schedule. The sun will set the mood for a lovely birthday evening.” Driver Kim hums as he fishes something from his coat pocket. He turns in his chair and reaches to the backseat, holding a small box with a ribbon atop of it. “This one isn’t for you, young director. So, don’t go peeking until he gets to see it first.” Jumin chuckles and nods, gently taking the small box from the other man. The driver moves to let out his employer, but Jumin waves him dismissively. “We will not be too long. I’m not one to fuss over birthday celebrations.” The director smooths out his suit jacket and pant legs before opening up the car door. “I know, Mr. Han. Take all the time you need. Tell him I say hello, and happy belated birthday.” Driver Kim keeps his gaze on the horizon ahead of him, wetness stinging the old man’s eyes. Jumin actively ignores the sudden show of emotion and uses his free hand to shut the door. 

Tiny lights sparkle along the trail up through the finely landscaped hill, leading Jumin directly to his destination. Clammy hands hold onto the tiny gift tightly as he continues along the rocky trail. Once he reaches the top, he strays from the path to greet his friend. His chest storms with emotion and dark eyes widen as he counts each step. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. His breath sounds too loud in his ears, and he’s sure his heart is beating much too fast. Suddenly, he wishes to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but anywhere. But, Jumin Han is a man of his word. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Oxfords continue to pad across the grass and eventually come to a slow stop. “Ten.” Jumin breathes aloud. “Hello, old friend.”

Jumin’s mouth remains open as he goes to continue greeting the other before he takes a moment to take in his surroundings. A checkered blanket, red and white, is delicately laid out in the plush, green grass. A picnic basket brimming with all sorts of delicacies is centered on the blanket, along with another smaller basket, cushioning two crystal glasses. Candles flicker over petals of flowers, casting a glow to compete with the setting sun. “It’s like something from a film. This is…” Jumin lets out a breathless laugh as he eases himself onto the blanket. “This is beautiful.”

Jumin wastes no time in exploring the basket prepared for the two. The smile never leaves his lips as he pushes past fine cheeses, chocolates and a beautifully decorated cake. He lets out a little “ah-ha” upon finding the thing both men would enjoy more than anything. “Now, this is more like it, hm?” Jumin wriggles out the vintage bottle, holding it up for the both of them to admire. “Henschke, Hill of Grace, Shiraz. 1994, if I recall correctly? Australians know their reds.” With a skillful hand, Jumin uncorks the bottle and pours the red liquid into the fine crystal glasses. The aroma of the wine fills the evening air between them, and for a moment, Jumin feels lighter. The weight of the day melts away in the twilight’s embrace. Perhaps birthdays can just be birthdays. Jumin muses to himself as he wraps his fingers around the stem of the glass. He scoots slowly across the blanket to hand the drink to the other man. Perhaps it is alright for him to enjoy himself this way. The crystal is set down with great care onto the stone and Jumin uses the wrist of his jacket to smudge away any thumb prints he may have left. His vision blurs as he clinks the glasses together. The sound is familiar, but in a very different way now. Lonely.

The other glass is still. No hand reaches to join him in the toast. No voice returns his greeting. No smile returns his grin. Jumin’s black eyes blink and he swallows back the pain that threatens to lurch from his stomach. He raises his drink between himself and the headstone and tosses back the entire glassful. The wine burns his throat and he is grateful for the pain. 

“Happy belated birthday, V. And, as you would surely remind me. ‘Oh, it’s your birthday. Quit pretending it's not, Jumin.’” The man’s voice cracks a bit and he clears his throat. Please, keep it together. He wills himself to hold on as he continues. “I don’t care much for my birthday. But, I promised you I would make time for my birthday if it meant I could celebrate yours.” 

For the next few minutes, Jumin forces small talk with the stone. He talks of work. He talks of Elizabeth. He reaches desperately into the backs of his mind to talk about every nonsensical thing he could imagine, avoiding the things he wishes to scream out. 

“Ah. I should update you on how the RFA is doing.” Jumin leans back on his elbows, horizontal with his friend’s grave. He looks up at the stars, allowing himself to instead imagine V there next to him; laying on his side as he listens to Jumin in attentive silence. The thought warms his cheeks and his heart. “Assistant Kang has been especially… gentle since the incident. Even Zen has begun showing me a side to him I never expected. He’s… kind. Yoosung, on the other hand… He has matured in a way I was not expecting. He misses you…” Jumin clears his throat once more before he continues. “Saeyoung and Saeran are doing very well. Both of them speak of you often. The twins and MC live together, all under one roof, as you always wished for. You’d be so proud, V.” Jumin shakily inhales as his lips tremble around his fourth glass. The tears that well in his eyes finally spill over onto his pale cheeks as he finishes off another drink.

So many things are left unsaid. So many angry, sad and desperate questions of why and how. Jumin sets the glass down and sits up, pushing his hand against his mouth to muffle the sob that escapes him. He should be here, pulling the glass from me, telling me I’ve had enough. He should be here to slug my arm around his shoulder. He should be here. No one but him should be here. Why, V? Why did you leave? The silence is louder than ever as Jumin attempts to calm himself down with a deep breath, using the back of his sleeve to wipe his cheeks. While the pain still clings to every inch of the man’s body like a bed of nails, Jumin swallows it back to properly finish his evening. “I almost forgot. Driver Kim wishes for me to give you this belated birthday gift. On my birthday, of all days.” Jumin sniffles with a smile as he fishes out the small box to set down on the memorial stone. He carefully unwraps the brightly colored ribbon and wriggles open the box. “Here, I will open it for you. Driver Kim has excellent taste in gifts. Perhaps it is a matching cufflink to my own. They’re designer, you know. And-” Jumin’s voice catches in his throat as the top of the box pops open. Cushioned inside a bed of white tissue paper is a small photo frame; no bigger than the palm of his hand. In the frame stares back two boys wearing birthday hats in front of a cake. Happy birthday, J & J is written across the cake in cursive writing. Jumin bites the inside of his cheek as a final tear escapes from him. The boys look like complete strangers. Both so innocent; so unaware of what the future will hold for them. Young Jihyun’s eyes are crinkled in a smile and his toothy grin takes up nearly half his face. Young Jumin smiles just as wide, but his eyes are wide open and looking directly at his friend. Cheeks flushed red, black and teal hair a complete tangled mess. They were happy. “We’ve changed, but not much. I loved you then, and I love you now.” Jumin whispers to V as he carefully sets down the frame along with all the other flowers and trinkets left scattered around the grave. His hand traces across the name etched into the stone slab and he uses the other hand to finish the wine directly from the bottle. “‘Happy birthday, Jumin.’” The director whispers into the lips of the bottle as he drains the last drops. 

The car ride home is quiet. Driver Kim helps a drunken Jumin into the car, taking no time at all to clean up the picnic and wine glasses. The shared silence between the two men is comfortable and calm. No words are shared with the driver and the director. Driver Kim simply hands the man a handkerchief and drives him back to his penthouse. 

Jumin’s eyes sting from the tears and his legs stumble as he steps from the car. He quietly thanks his driver who helps him up to the penthouse and fumbles with the keypad to unlock the door. Jumin exhales into the quiet room, letting the darkness consume him. His hand comes to rest on the center of his chest, and he takes a moment to appreciate the lighter feeling in his torso. The pain is less like broken glass now, more like the remnants of a broken mirror. The sharp and painful pieces have been removed, leaving the frame of what once was. It’s obvious something shattered the mirror, and a few bits of glass are left behind. But, the danger of the pain has been cleared away. 

“Shhh. Don’t yell, you’ll scare him. He looks sleepy.” A voice whispers from the kitchen. “How about you shut up and say surprise like we practiced? We’ve been here for an hour now, my legs hurt from squatting.” Another deeper voice grumbles in reply. 

“Hm?” Jumin drunkenly stumbles further into his seemingly empty penthouse as his tired eyes scan the dark room. 

“Can everyone at least attempt to remain quiet?” Another softer voice sighs.

“Saeyoung, this was a stupid idea. Put his cat down.” A voice exclaims, accompanied by a smack and a familiar yelp. 

“Hey! That’s my job!” A woman giggles and another smack echoes through the penthouse.

“Well, now I feel left out.” A man’s voice speaks, adding on another, more intense smack sound. “GAH! Okay, okay. Princess, we’ll catch up later. Go see your daddy. He needs a birthday hug.” This voice, he recognizes immediately, and his eyes fly wide open as he reaches for the light switch. “Saeyoung?! What?!” Jumin shouts as he squints into the bright light. 

“Wah! SURPRISE!” “Hehe! Surprise, Jumin!” Saeyoung and MC screech, dressed to impress, both sporting white cat ears and paws. “Surprise, Jumin!!  Woo-hoo!” Yoosung pops up from behind the counter, tossing an armful of balloons into the air. 

“Jesus. Well, surprise, trust-fund-kid.” Zen leans from around the sofa, smiling sheepishly at the other man. “Sorry about all this.” The albino laughs and rubs the back of his neck. 

“I was dragged here without my consent. Do not blame me for the home invasion.” Vanderwood growls from next to MC, winning another giggle from the girl and her fiancé.

“Surprise, Jumin Han. I apologize for my brother breaking into your home.” Saeran smiles, shoving his twin away from the white cat as she scuttles to her owner’s side. “Though, I may have helped a little.” Jumin leans down to wrap Elizabeth in his arms as his mouth hangs open in shock. Each face looks back, expectantly and worried. 

“Is he okay?” Yoosung whines, slowly inching closer to Jumin as his eyes dart from person to person. “Is he having a heart attack?!” “Yes.” Saeyoung says confidently, his cat paws resting on his hips. MC nods with him, looking to Yoosung with mock concern. 

“No.” Saeran, Vanderwood and Jaehee reply in a harmony, sharing looks of annoyance. “I know you wanted to be alone after your evening with him but…” Jaehee stood from behind a chair, offering an apologetic smile. “No.” Jumin interrupts her, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Each member of the RFA continues to stare at the man as he wobbles and before anyone can say a word, the director sets his princess down and lurches forward.

With arms wide open, he embraces his friends. With no reservations, no walls of emotions, no tightly wound strings. He holds his friends and finally inhales a full breath of air as each friend wraps their arms back around him. 

Sure, he’s drunk. Very drunk. Sure, he will regret and deny everything tomorrow morning. But tonight, Jumin will laugh with his friends. He will laugh till he cries, indulge in birthday cake, glare as the redheaded twins crown him with matching cat ears. He will open silly and thoughtful gifts and read cheesy and stupid birthday cards. He will refuse to sing karaoke, but instead watch and clap along as Zen and Saeran have a battle of the bands moment. Jumin smiles and laughs to himself, feeling an unseen hand wrap around his shoulders. He closes his eyes and pictures V there, smiling along with him. “Thank you for allowing yourself to enjoy today,” he would probably whisper to his friend. “You deserve this.” Jumin allows himself to believe his friend’s memory. This is what he would have wanted. “Happy birthday, Jumin!!” The RFA cheers together as the song comes to an end, the room lit by smiles and camera flashes. 

And a happy birthday it was, indeed. 

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

By My Side (Part 4)

Summary: The reader goes to dinner with her step brothers, Michael and Nick, as well as Jensen. When Jensen starts to see how her brothers treat her though, Jensen and the reader have a heart to heart and start to try a different tactic with their relationship...

Masterlist

Pairing: Bodyguard!Jensen x reader

Word Count: 3,700ish

Warnings: language, sibling angst, minor violence, mentioned prior deaths

A/N: Enjoy!

_________

Monday Evening

“Hey pipsqueak,” said Nick, your arms crossed from where you sat on the couch trying to watch TV. “Since dad and your mom are at dinner at that fancy place, maybe you could take us out?”

“Yeah,” said Michael, still texting away on his phone at the other end of the couch. “There’s that steak place dad said was good. Y/N, you want to have dinner with your big brothers?”

“Not particularly,” you said. 

“She still hate us?” said Nick as he came up to the back of the couch, ruffling your hair and placing his hands on your shoulders. “You gotta let that shit go. We were kids.”

“I was a kid. You were both twenty years old and you two harassed me until I moved out, well past when you knew better. Now that I have money, you two-”

“What was that?” asked Nick and you swallowed. “Come on. Let’s get dinner.”

“Whatever. Jensen! We’re going to dinner wherever you are,” you called out. “Jensen!”

He came down the far hallway near where your office was, his hand behind his back on his holster but you shook your head.

“We’re going out,” you said as he dropped his hand down. “To eat. We’ll be back in a couple hours.”

“I’m going with you,” he said. You thought that was odd of him but he made his jaw hard and clenched it. “It’s part of my contract. I go where you go.”

“He’s perky isn’t he,” said Michael as he stood up. You rolled your eyes and went towards the front door to get your purse.

Half an hour later the three of you were seated with Jensen sat at the bar close by and keeping an eye on you.

“Surprised he didn’t ask to sit with us,” mumbled Nick. “Why do you have a bodyguard again?”

“After my old manager tried to have me kidnapped for publicity,” you said.

“You know how to pick ‘em,” said Michael. You gripped the menu tight and reviewed it, already knowing your step brothers wouldn’t even pretend to offer to pay for their meals. You never quite understood them. Chuck was always good to your mom and nice to you. You weren’t particularly close but you didn’t dislike each other either. You got along, he asked about you, you spent time together whenever you visited them. Chuck had always been okay in your book. His children though you could have sworn were adopted with how horrible they could be to you.

“How much you want to bet me I could get that douchey little bodyguard over here in less then five seconds?” asked Nick, a smirk on his face you didn’t like.

“He’s just doing his job. Let him do it in peace.”

“I still don’t get why you have one,” said Michael as he looked over the wine list. “Compared to the other girl on the show, you’re like, not good looking.”

“Dude, I’m your sister. You’re not supposed to find me good looking.”

“I know that, dipshit. I mean, you’re just, plain,” he said. “You’re not the main lead. That’s probably why.”

“I’m co-lead. We have no main lead.”

“But you’re second on the call sheet credits thing,” said Nick.

“Cause Gen got hired before me.”

“She’s still hotter than you,” mumbled Nick.

“She’s married and they’re both my best friends.”

“I didn’t say I want to fuck her. Relax. You’re always so uptight,” said Nick. You bit your tongue and weren’t surprised when Michael ordered a few hundred dollar bottle of wine. You got the twenty dollar one you normally did that tasted just as good and Nick went for an expensive Scotch you’d never heard of. 

“Oh,” you said to the waiter before he could leave. “The man on the end of the bar there, his drinks and meal are on me.”

“No problem,” he said as he took off. 

“She’s got no problem paying for his food,” muttered Michael.

“It’s part of his job. For him, this is a business expense,” you said. You gnawed the inside of your cheek and forced a smile. “The garlic bread is very good here if you guys want to get some.”

“Good with me,” said Michael. He gave you a smile, a genuine one before he was checking his phone again. You’d always liked Michael far more than Nick. On his own, Michael was a pretty decent guy. When he got with Nick though, and that was more often than not, even into adulthood, he was normally pretty unbearable.

“Working any big new clients?” you asked, your voice a tad too high but he ignored it while Nick went to the restroom.

“Potentially. I actually got a job offer in LA. Senior partner,” he said.

“That’s great,” you said, Michael smiling.

“You’re actually happy about that, for real,” he said.

“You’re incredibly smart. You always have been. I’m really happy you’re getting out of our little hometown and going to work at a bigger firm,” you said. “That’s a really big deal. You should be proud.”

“Here I thought you’d tell me not to move to your city,” he said.

“Why do you think I’d say that?” you asked.

“You don’t like us,” he said, nodding to the empty spot beside him. “You never have.”

“You guys are dicks most of the time. You skipped over the getting to know each other thing and went right into horrible dick older brothers.”

“We weren’t horrible. We still aren’t. I have worked cases that would make your skin crawl. We’re the Brady bunch compared to most people.”

“My dad died and I was so excited to have big brothers, you know? That year was so horrible and Chuck made mom stop crying and laugh again and I love him for that. But you guys...it doesn’t matter. I’m happy you’re getting a promotion, Michael.”

“Our mom died too that year,” he said, lowering his head.

“I know she did,” you said. “Forget I said anything.”

“So when do you go back to work?” asked Michael as Nick returned.

“A few months from now,” you said.

“What are you gonna do after that?” he asked.

“Honestly I’m not sure right now. I like TV but I might do movies. My options are pretty open,” you said. “How’s teaching going?”

“Always a joy,” said Nick, taking a long sip of his water. “I got tenure finally. Not sure if I’m gonna stay though. If Mikey moves out here I might take a position at UCLA.”

“Oh. So you’re thinking of moving out here too?” you asked. Nick narrowed his eyes and you you looked away. “Maybe mom and Chuck will come out if you guys do.”

“Maybe,” said Nick. Thankfully you spotted your waiter come back with your drinks and you were able to order your appetizer and dinner, already expecting a nearly thousand dollar bill thanks to their alcohol choices. 

“I’ll be right back,” you said. You excused yourself and walked over to the bar, Jensen sipping on a glass of beer while he half-watched a TV behind the bar.

“Require saving from your brothers?” he smirked to himself, turning before you could tap him on the shoulder.

“Why do you say that?” you asked, leaning against the padded bartop. 

“Just a vibe I get, you and Nick especially,” he said. “Nobody gets a pass from me.”

“He’s not a great older brother but he’s harmless,” you said.

“He intimidates you.”

“Like I said, he’s not great but the worst thing he’s ever done was leave me with a group of strange guys. Michael did the same thing. Otherwise they’re just like, crappy older brothers.”

“Crappy or something else? Like I said, nobody gets a pass from me.”

“Jensen. They would never hurt me. I swear on my life.”

“Michael wouldn’t. Nick...I’ll be keeping an eye on him, both of them, whether you want me to or not. I’m the asshole bodyguard after all,” he smirked again.

“Well, it sounds like they’re both gonna move out here soon so we’ll be seeing them more.”

“Lovely,” said Jensen. “So why’d you come over? Need a break from them?”

“Yes. Also, I already told the waiter but your drinks and food are all on me. Feel free to order whatever you want,” you said.

“I’ll stick to the one beer. I’m at work still,” he said.

“They have really good steak. The filet is amazing along with the green beans,” you said. Jensen smiled and played with his glass, swishing the ice cubes around. “The lobster macaroni is also a great side.”

“That’s a hundred dollar steak.”

“Jensen, you know I can afford it.”

“I also know how much you’re paying me. I can afford it.”

“Jensen. I’m your boss. I’m paying for it. Next time I want Taco Bell, you can pay at the drive through if it makes you feel better,” you said. He smiled, a soft gentle little smile you’d never seen on his face before. You returned it, Jensen staring at you before he shook his head and it fell away.

“I’m going to lose this argument, aren’t I.”

“Yeah, you are. I’d much rather pay for your meal than those two bimbos. I like you better,” you said.

“Must have a pretty low bar for them then,” he said.

“Why’d you stop talking to me? After the paparazzi guy?” you asked. He shrugged and wiped off a stray drop of condensation on his glass. “Please?”

“There’s a line I have to keep with you. We can be friendly but if something happens, I am in charge. There can be no doubts about that. I felt that I needed to step back and reaffirm that boundary.”

“We can keep the boundary. But we can be friends too. If you say hide, I’ll hide. If you say run, I’ll run. I know you think I’m a dumb actress but-”

“You’re not dumb. You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met,” he said. You blinked and he offered a half smile. “You have an ability to push through panic and be logical. I know guys with all the training in the world that can’t do that. You’re not a dumb actress. It’s obvious that you were raised to be intelligent.”

“My point is, I will do what you tell me to when it’s those hard moments. But I have confidence that you were wrong before. You can like someone, maybe even care about them like a friend, and still be able to protect them. I actually think it’ll make you better at your job.”

“Give me one example of where that works. Just one.”

“Maybe you want to try talking to your bestie, Jared,” you said. “Or literally most anyone in a relationship anywhere.”

“Touche,” he said. He smiled and nodded. “No more cold shoulder.”

“Thanks.”

“So I should try the macaroni with my steak?” he asked.

“And the green beans. You get two sides. You can get however many you want actually. The dessert selection here is even better than the steak if you can believe it.”

“I’ll have to check it out,” he said. “But no green beans. Traumatic childhood incident with them.”

“I better not be attacked by the cabbage patch kids. They might just take you down,” you said, Jensen giggling to himself. “Oh, he does laugh. Good to know. The roasted truffle garlic fries are really good too.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I think I’ll check them out.”

“Do you want to sit with us?” you asked, nodding back towards the table.

“I better not. I don’t think your brothers like me very much,” he said. “I got a better vantage point over here anyways.”

“Vantage point?” you asked.

“Got a weird feeling is all. I want to stay sharp tonight,” he said. You nodded and turned to go, Jensen catching your bicep. “If something happens, what do you do?”

“Duck and cover and wait for you to get me,” you said.

“Good girl. You did read my instructions.”

“Yup. Even read the part about how to get out of your hands being tied behind your back. Unfortunately, I’m not flexible enough and my ass is too big for that,” you said. He chuckled and you smirked. “Oh you know it is.”

“I’m not opposed to that fact,” he said. You went wide eyed and he laughed. “My boss is hot, what can I say.”

“You better stick to the one drink after all, Ackles,” you said, laughing as you lightly whacked his arm. “Try the triple brownie sundae for dessert. You won’t regret it.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

“I think I gained five pounds,” said Michael, stretching out in his seat nearly two hours later, the waiter bringing over the check. You frowned at the bill but it was what you were expecting. You stuck your card in the pocket and caught the waiter pretty quickly. It was getting late and you were tired. Even your step-brothers were getting quiet so you hoped to get home quickly.

The waiter returned and you wrote out a tip, sticking your card back in your wallet and purse. You stretched as you stood up, your step brothers taking their time to get to their feet. You headed over towards Jensen when the sound of glass shattering caught your attention. You turned your head and heard tires screeching outside, spotting that the window at the front of the restaurant was gone now. You barely saw the cop car driving by before you heard sharp little noises in the air and felt like you got hit by a truck. 

Suddenly you were on the ground, Jensen on top of you. Nick and Michael were ducked down under the table along with most everyone in the restaurant, some people at the bar hopping over the counter and diving behind the back. The whole place was silent and you all heard the front door to the place open abruptly. Jensen stood up in one smooth motion, his gun out and aimed, a shot ringing out a second later as someone yelled. A few seconds later there was a loud echo of feet, Jensen setting his gun on the ground and holding up his hands. Police filled in the place, two very angry looking officers rushing over to him and barking orders.

“It’s okay,” said Jensen to you as he knelt down.

Less than five minutes later he was released and some hostess was thanking him over and over still for stopping the guy that had come in looking for trouble. Jensen shrugged it off, only grazing the guy and the police pretty impressed with him for doing so. 

“Are we free to go?” asked Jensen, an officer nodding. He waved for you and your step-brothers to follow, Jensen driving the four of you back to your place quickly. Nick and Michael took their rental car back to their hotel, neither one much in the mood to talk after what had happened.

Jensen checked that the house was secure before he went to his room and shut the door. You weren’t sure if he was okay or not. He seemed pretty calm but he had shot a guy, if only barely. Instead of heading to your bedroom, you wandered down the hall to his area of the house. There was a guest suite there he used for his bed and bathroom but he rarely used it unless he was going to bed and he always, always told you when he was turning in for the night.

As you were about to knock on the door you heard the faint sound of a shower and nodded. He was simply cleaning up. It didn’t sound like a bad idea to yourself honestly. You went down the hall to your room, flipping on the light. It was a soft white in there, the wall behind the bed a shiplap that led up to wood beams going across the vaulted ceiling. Another light was flipped on in the bathroom and you stepped under the shower for a few minutes, washing off your face and skin. After five minutes you went out to the bedroom and over to the closet, finding a pajama shirt and shorts to slip into. Your hair was thrown up in a messy bun and you found your oversized fleece hoodie you occasionally slept in. Tucking it under your arm, you headed out of the room and back down the hall, Jensen’s door still shut.

“Jensen?” you said, knocking on the door lightly. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” he said. Carefully you pushed the door open, Jensen walking out of his bathroom in just his boxer briefs, wiping a towel over his head. He tugged it down and stared at you, your eyes going to his chest, legs and everywhere in between. 

“I uh, wanted to make sure you were alright,” you said, ripping your eyes away and meeting his gaze. He nodded and tossed his towel back into the laundry basket by the closet.

“I’m fine. You?”

“Yeah. I uh-”

“No need to be nervous around me,” he said.

“Right,” you said, Jensen walking right in front of you before stopping. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay and to say thanks.”

“It’s my job,” he said. 

“Still,” you said. “I...here. I thought you might like this.”

“A hoodie?” he asked as you handed him the fleece. “What’s this for?”

“S’my bad day hoodie. I wear it to bed sometimes. Makes me feel better,” you said with a shrug.

“Old boyfriend’s?” he asked as he pulled it on, a soft smile spreading across his cheeks. “It’s so soft. Thanks, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome,” you said.

“So was it the boyfriends? Or you get it for yourself?” he asked.

“It was a birthday present for my dad. He died the week before. I never got to give it to him.”

“I shouldn’t be wearing this,” he said, moving to take it off when you caught his wrists. He was so much stronger than you but he let you manhandle him and move his hands back to his sides.

“It fits you better than it ever did me. Besides, I think you’re a little on edge and not telling me which is fine. It’s good for that,” you said. “I want you to keep it.”

“Y/N, I can’t keep something like this,” he said. You stared at him, Jensen swallowing. “It’s important to you.”

“Yes. But you gave me your blanket and wouldn’t let me return it. Fair is fair,” you said.

“Y/N-”

“S’an order, Jensen. Keep it.”

“Yes mam,” he said quietly.

“I hate when you call me that,” you said, moving your hands away from him.

“I know you do,” he said, a quick smirk crossing his face. “Why aren’t you using this yourself tonight?”

“I got my blanket. I’m good,” you said.

“It doesn’t explain why you’re giving me this though.”

“Lately, something else has been making me feel better and safe. My dad would have liked you.”

“Your father was a good person. A brave person,” said Jensen. 

“You know how he died,” you said, Jensen returning a nod. “I used to be really angry at him. Why’d he have to go help that woman? He could have walked past and been alive. But since I got older, if I was that woman being attacked, I would pray for a man like that to come help me. I know he was good.”

“I will do my very best to be that man for you,” he said. 

“I know you will. If you need something, come get me,” you said.

“Y/N,” he said just as you spun around. “May I have the morning off? You will be with family and my sister is in town for the day for work. I’d like to get lunch with her if I could.”

“Take the day,” you said with a smile, looking back over your shoulder. “She can come to dinner if you like.”

“She’s got a flight back at five thirty,” he said. “Thanks though.”

“It’s no problem,” you said. “Goodnight, Jensen.”

“Goodnight,” he said. You pulled his door shut after yourself and went down to your own bedroom to get under the covers. You stared up at the ceiling, hearing a light pitter patter on the rooftop. Rain was so rare in LA that you normally welcomed it when it came around. It reminded you of back home in a way.

A text popped up on your phone just as you were closing your eyes. It was from Gen and was a link to some news article about the restaurant, a picture of you and Jensen front and center.

You wrote back you were fine and turned off your phone, knowing you’d have to deal with questions in the morning.

________

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

[theunderwoodtypist]

The Huntress, Chapter 1

Eyes watched her as she walked through the crowded promenade.  Nervous gazes flitted her direction, quickly redirecting away from her when she glanced back.  Her ears perked at any and all whispered, hushed tones.  Station denizens stepped out of her path, staring with wide eyes as she passed.  Station security chose to look the other way.  As they had learned from past run ins with her kind.  She found the club she had been searching for, the one with a curtain of beads partitioning it off from the bustling walkway outside, the large tinted windows offered very little view of the inside except some shadowy movement.  She stood just outside the club, eyes flicking back and forth, studying the crowd inside through the multicolored beads.  The scent of tobacco, marijuana, and other herbal inhalants burned her nostrils.  She brushed the strands of beads aside and pulled the cloth covering her face down with one hand, and pulling her goggles up, resting them on her forehead, just shy of her pointed ears, with the other.  The blue and violet lights pulsed along with the thumping of the music.  Dancers wearing translucent garments of various colors danced on pedestals in a ring around the circular bar that took up the center of the establishment.  Her whiskers could feel the faint static charge of the invisible forcefields around the pedestals, in place either to keep the patrons from getting handsy with the dancers, or to keep the dancers from escaping, she wasn’t sure which.  In the back by the bar twin stair cases curved upward to a small balcony.  A single doorway, also curtained by beads, lead to the back rooms.  She surveyed the crowd carefully, sizing each patron up.  They were a rough crowd, civilian cargo runners mostly, stopping at the station to unload and get some much needed relaxation.  She recognized a few smugglers she had picked up before.  Most of the patrons were honest and hard working, others simple men and women trying to make their way in the galaxy, though through illegal means.  Which suited her just fine.  A hunter was nothing if she didn’t have prey to pursue.  The one she was after was a goblin.  Nasty little things.  Orange skin, pointed teeth, large ears.  They were disgusting little ghouls, slimy and they smelled of bile.  He was worth quite a bit, and her sources told her he knew things.  Things she needed to know.  His twin ran the bar here.  The owner was some unknown individual, some benefactor that hid in the shadows.  They probably kept the bar going to traffic weapons or drugs.  Why else would someone not want their name on the documents? She approached the bar after she was satisfied with her initial survey of the crowd.  The squat orange goblin looked her up and down for a moment.

“well…”  he said in a slimy, rasping voice, showing her his yellowed pointed fangs.  “Not too often we get mau in here…  What can I get for you little kitty?”  She ignored the derogatory remark and pointed at a bottle of blue liquid in the glass case behind the bar.  The goblin turned and pulled the bottle out and poured a small splash of it in a glass and slid it across the bar to her.  She set a rounded flat disk on the bar and tapped the surface of it.  Sand-like particles orientated themselves into the three dimensional image of another goblin.

“Do you know where he is?”  she asked coldly.  The goblin scowled at the image.

“What’s he done this time?”  He hissed.

“He owes my employer enough credits to buy a small star cruiser.”  She hissed back, showing her own sharp teeth.  

“Listen little kitty, why don’t you run on back to your employer, before you get your pretty little self hurt.”  he growled.  She smirked.  She loved when they played hard to get.

“Just tell me where he is, and I won’t bring you in as well, for the two and a half thousand credit bounty you have on you.”  she downed her drink in one gulp and glanced over her shoulder across the club, just to check on her surroundings.  Her eyes locked onto an eros boy.  He was young, not much into adulthood.  His black hair was unruly, and his grey skin made him look almost like a shadow in the pulsing lights around him.  He studied her with his mismatched blue and green eyes.  He was armed.  A handgun of some sort, holstered on his thigh, as well as a few knives.  He wasn’t wearing the security band around his upper arm that meant he was permitted to carry a weapon.  He had probably snuck around the security check points.  He had an air of nobility, but the posture of a man who was unfazed by violence and death.  He offered her a soft,  gentle smile.  If things went wrong… She would have to drop him quickly. She turned back to the goblin.

“Have you decided?”  She asked, gesturing for the goblin to refill her glass.  He obliged and she downed the drink.

“My brother is in the back rooms.  I’ll go get him for you…”  He said with an unsettling fanged grin.  

“Good boy…”  She smirked, watching him closely as he went up the stairs and into the back.  She unbuckled the strap holding her side arm in place on her thigh and glanced around, looking for the eros again, but he had vanished.  Good… eros tended to be excellent marksman, and small targets to hit.  She didn’t want to have to deal with more bloodshed then necessary.  The goblin bartender rushed out of the back rooms with a disrupter rifle in hand.  She swore loudly and pulled her handgun before dropping to the floor as red hot bursts of plasmic energy streaked through the air.  The cub erupted in screams and panic as patrons scrambled to get away from the weapon fire.  She peaked over the bar and fired twice toward the goblin.  Both shots missed, but she didn’t have a good shot.  She figured he would want to take cover if he was being shot at.  She had been right, the goblin ducked back into the back room, giving her enough time to scramble to her feet and find a better vantage point.  There were nine fairly well covered spots in the club, each, unfortunately, left her back open, and she wasn’t sure how many of the patrons were part of this goblin’s inner circle and armed.  She pulled her goggles down again and fired a few more shots as she moved, ducking behind one of the dancer’s pedestals.  The boy atop it cowered, unable to get off because of the forcefield, but safe because of it as well.  Disrupter blaster scorched the wall behind her and the ceiling.  Patrons were still clambering to get out of the club, crawling over each other, shoving each other to the ground.  They had effectively blocked the only way in or out.  The goblin would be hers.  She fired twice and ducked down again as disrupter blasts impacted the forcefield, their energy redistributed and funneled into the power buffers.  If enough hit the field, it could overload and cause the emitters to explode. A few more blasted hit the field.  She swore under her breath and fired a few more times.  This was going no where quickly, and at this rate she would loose the majority of the bounty paying for the damages.  She grumbled and pulled a few small disks from a few of the numerous pouches on her belt and on her thigh.  She flicked her wrist back, sending them flying toward the goblin.  One flashed brightly, the other erupted in a cloud of smoke.  She dove out from her cover and fired twice into the cloud of smoke.  She stayed still, watching, waiting…  She knew she hit one of the goblins, she could see him struggling to get up with her goggle’s infrared scans.  She cautiously approached the stairs.  She kicked the disrupter rifle over the edge of the platform at the top of the stairs and pulled the goblin to his feet.  He laughed and then winced in pain.  She had shot him in the shoulder and the calf, no permanent damage.

“Why are you laughing?” She hissed.  He looked into the back room.  She followed his gaze and froze.  There was no other goblin…  He had lied…  Her eyes locked onto a pulsing  red light on the floor.  A second disrupter was set in overload on the verge of going critical.      

“It will destroy half the station!” He cackled.  She swore loudly in her native tongue and dove off the balcony. She grabbed one of the heavy mahogany tables and flipped it over, ducking behind it just as the disrupter went critical.  The blast blew out all the heavy tempered glass around the entrance of the club, forcing club goers, tables, bar stools, and other decor and objects through them, including herself.  She hit the ground hard, coming to a tumbling halt, shards of glass and bits of the composite bulkheads were strewn around her, like someone had thrown them about like confetti.  She pushed herself up and, her head spinning, ears ringing.   Clearly the explosion did not destroy half the station…  She struggled to her feet, barely keeping her balance, staring at the smoking front of the club. People dragged their friend’s lifeless bodies out from under debris, people wailed and screamed,  others lay lifeless, killed by the blast. She looked around for her handgun. It had been knocked from her hands by the blast.  The glint of gold caught her attention a few feet away.  She pulled the gun from the debris and reloaded it, limping back into the club to confirm the kill. Before she could make it back inside, station security had her surrounded.  She swore and jammed her gun back into its holster and pulled her goggles back up as she raised her hands over her head.

“My name is Tivali, I’m with the Hunter’s Guild, I have permission from the station master to use deadly force if necessary here.”  she said as the security guards pulled her arms behind her back, fastening restraints to her wrists.  She rolled her eyes but complied with every order they gave her, and answered every question. This was merely an inconvenience…  A rather annoying, time consuming, headache of an inconvenience that would cost her time, money, and her prey… 

[thisisthehardestthing]

тоска, 18+ Tanaka x Reader, 2.2

Written for The Smut Pile Server Collab: Mafia AU | MASTERLIST HERE.

тоска tus-ka: Russian, noun It is a dull ache of the soul, a sick pining, a vague restlessness, mental throes, yearning. In particular cases, it may be the desire for somebody or something specific, nostalgia, lovesickness.

Russian Mafia AU: Tanaka Ryu x A Reader OC Rating: E for explicit Warnings: Violence, Blood, Death, Masturbation, Oral sex, Public Sex, Grinding, Cheating, Denied Orgasm, Manipulation, YEARNING Word count: 9,328 Part 1 | Part 2

GLOSSARY

Enjoy the final part of this two part hell.

Special thanks to: @joyousandverywarlike for being my ride-or-die,  @pleasantanathema , @present-mel and @linestrider for hosting this collab, and everyone in the server for being amazing friends. I would not have been able to write this without any of you, and I truly mean that. @the-smut-pile​

2.2

6. Tanaka

Daichi, Sergei, Ryunoslav and Yuuri sit in the wooden banya, white towels wrapped around their waists as they sweat and speak about the Georgian trip. It smells of cedar, rich and woody, and sweat. Like men.

“Boss Vashadze is unwell,” Daichi muses, knees spread wide as he relaxes against the hot walls, facing the glass door. “It won’t be long until he retires.”

Tanaka sits perpendicular to him, on a lower step with one foot perched up and his leg bent. Yuuri is opposite Tanaka, and Sergei stands, lightly smacking his back with a Venik, the scent of eucalyptus and birch dispersing through the air with each tap against his skin.

“That is good for you, bad for connections,” Sergei says, “how is business there?”

He always talked numbers first, pleasure second. Yuuri laughs, reaching for the besom of herbs from Sergei’s hold to lash his legs.

“Fine. I am gaining more of a footing around the ministers... However it will still take some time before they trust me. There are rumors of a new political party rising. We have to keep an eye open for unrest in Eastern Europe.”

“Ukraine?” Sergei asks, rubbing some of the leaves that stuck to his arms into his skin.

Daichi nods, then his eyes slide sideways to peer at Tanaka. His shaved hair has grown out slightly, which will be trimmed tonight, and he picks at his toenail of the foot bent beneath him.

“We can discuss strategy after we eat. How was your weekend, Ryunoslav?” The Bulldog asks, eyebrows raised.

Tanaka lifts his head casually with a simple smile.

“Just what I needed, spasiba Boss.”

Daichi’s laugh booms in the sauna, and Yuuri joins in, slapping the wood next to his thigh.

“Tell us more, Ryu! When I saw the first prostitute leave after thirty minutes, I thought it was over. But then, when I saw a second one arrive at midnight, I thought you must’ve not enjoyed the first.”

Tanaka frowns, looking at Yuuri in confusion before realising who he meant. He had seen Valentina arrive late at night, although he didn’t recognise her, or so he hopes.

“She was banging on the door very loudly, woke me up. Tell me, was it the same one from before wanting a second round?”

With a glance to Daichi, who is scanning his every expression,Tanaka shrugs.

“It was the same whore. I must be very good in bed.”

All the men burst out in laughter, but Tanaka laughs the loudest in compensation. Daichi closes his eyes as he tilts his head back.

“Well, she stayed for a long time. I only saw her leave past five am.”

“Yuuri, are you stalking Ryunoslav?” Sergei questions, using the water the Venik was soaking in to rinse off his body, the liquid sizzling as it hits the warm floor by his feet.

“No, I just found it interesting that Ryunoslav will fuck someone twice in a single night when there’s only been one woman he’s ever wan-”

“Yuuri.” Tanaka growls, cutting off his closest friend who has had too much vodka before entering the sauna. The heat and alcohol is loosening his tongue too quickly. Daichi sits up at this news, leaning forward so that muscle bulge and inflate.

“Oh? Is this true? Who is this woman?”

Tanaka waves his hand dismissively as he glares at Yuuri, “I met her years ago, when I first started working for you, Boss. No one of importance now.”

“Surely she still means something if you don’t want Yuuri to talk about her.” Sergei chimes in, climbing past their heads to sit on the top bench next to Daichi. Tanaka avoids his gaze, but can feel the Bulldog sniffing at the faint nerves that climb up Tanaka’s spine, his ears blushing red from the heat. He feels closed in, backed into a corner.

“It is an unrequited love, so please, I would prefer not to speak about it anymore.”

The men all murmur in understanding, except for Yuuri, who says, “I will just have to get you drunk to tell us about her then.”

7 - Valentina

Daichi sits across from you in the chartered jet, the beige leather seats muted even further with the deep rumble of the engine and the third glass of champagne in your veins. He’s reading a newspaper, you’re staring out at the cotton-peach clouds as they pass by. To your left, Sergei Sugawarov scribbles in books filled with numbers, the taptaptap of the calculator permeating the heavy air.

“Refill, Mrs. Sawamurova?” the air hostess asks, her smile wide as she holds the Moët & Chandon bottle in her manicured hands. She’s trembling slightly, and you smile reassuringly.

“Leave the bottle, thank you,” your heavy Russian accent drips from your tongue as you answer in English, and the bottle is placed in a silver ice bucket on the birchwood table between you and Daichi.

Two hours have passed during the five hour flight from Ufa Airport to Côte d'Azur Airport, and you pour another glass for yourself as you watch Daichi turn a page. He glances up at you with a small smile, but his eyes are hard. Something happened while he was in Georgia with your father. With a small smile of your own, you turn your gaze back to the window, leaving red lipstick on the rim of the glass.

A phone rings, and you hear Tanaka’s gruff voice answer the call, the memory of last week shooting painfully through your core.

“Oi?”

Some silence, before the Khazak turns in his seat behind Daichi and whispers through the space between the leather and the wall of the jet. You can’t help the way you look at him, stormy grey eyes peering out at you as he whispers into the ear of your husband. Your brow furrows when Daichi jerks his head in a slight nod, tense.

Tanaka retreats back around and you’re left staring at the empty spot, snapping your eyes to the calculating gaze of The Bulldog.

“Is everything alright, my love?” you ask, deciding to stand from your seat and sit on his arm rest.

Daichi folds the newspaper away, one arm wrapping around your waist while the other takes a sip of the champagne straight from the bottle.

“It seems this trip will not only be pleasure,” he muses, eyes closing as he swallows. However, when they open, his face melts into the calm reassurance you’ve always known when he smiles up at you and places a kiss to the cream wool crepe of your blouse. “I have something to take care of, but it will only be a moment. Nothing to worry about.”

You nod, delicate hands stroking at Daichi’s hair, but Tanaka’s cologne wafts up, invading your nose.

“I understand.”

***

The drive to the private Villa La Vigie winds between grey and green rock mountains to your left with glimpses of the dazzling azure ocean of where the French Riviera gets its name to your right. You’re invited to stay in the home of your fathers dear friend, Monsieur Lagerfeld, situated on a private hill just outside Monaco. He will not be there, March being the month he spends in his apartment in Paris, so you and Daichi and the many bodyguards take residence for the week.

You’ve visited this house a number of times in your youth, in your adulthood, and yet it steals the air from your lungs each time you return. It’s one o’clock in the afternoon when you pull up the driveway. In front of you, the two story villa looms in it’s beautiful white-painted glory, the sun a beacon shining upon it. Light brick extends below to where there is a wine cellar, garage and access to the private beach club below.

The car parks, and Daichi kisses your cheek in the backseat before he exits the vehicle and strides up the steps and through the large glass double doors, answering his phone while bodyguards open the way for him. You see Tanaka grip the steering wheel, the leather of his gloves stretch and squeak. It is the first time you are alone with him since that night a week ago, and the heater in the car feels sweltering against your skin.

“Thank you for the drive, Ryunoslav,” you mumble, shifting to the edge of the seat to leave out of the side Daichi had.

“Val,” he starts, then his mouth shuts and his eyes catch yours in the reflection of the rearview mirror, “of course.”

The terracotta tiles of the terrace reflect a salmon pink up the walls of the villa, and you smile at the men as you pass by and find the master bedroom on the first floor. You can already hear Daichi negotiating in the connected office, and you decide to bathe. As the water runs in the porcelain tub, the water mists with the scent of lavende de provence, and you open the windows looking out over the meditterean ocean. The salt and trees wash over you as the sound of the ocean crashing against rocks floats up, and for an instance, you imagine jumping out the window and into that endless blue. The winter air trickles into the warm bathroom.

Notes of a waltz dance in from the direction of the office and you see Daichi’s shadow move around in the bedroom as he unbuttons his cufflinks and loosens his navy blue tie. He walks into the bathroom where you’ve already slipped on the linen bathrobe, your blouse and jeans folded neatly onto the clothes ladder leaning against the wall.

“Care to join?” you ask, clipping your hair up. Daichi peels his shirt off and drops it near your own in a crumpled pile, his thick muscles rippling with each movement as he undresses.

“Prosti, Gadyuka. I have to get to the board meeting before the gala tonight,” he apologises, turning on the glass door shower as he gets into it on the opposite side to the bath. You watch as the water in the faucet of the bath sputters, and your heart imitates.

“Ah yes, I forgot. What-”

“The car arrives at seven, Khazak will escort you.”

Your head whips around to stare at Daichi as he massages white suds over his body, large palms running over his chest where the Sawamurov crest is tattooed in a large circle. He raises his eyebrows. You clear your throat, standing to drop the gown and dip a toe into the water.

“Not you?”

“Unfortunately no, but I will be there waiting for you. I know the dress you are wearing and can’t have any man trying to steal you for himself.”

Daichi’s honeyed words wash over you as you submerge into the water, turning off the faucet and staring out to the sea, a stark sapphire against the lily-white of the bathroom walls and window pane. In the mirror above the sink, you can see The Bulldog get out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his defined waist while he shakes the water from his hair.

You laugh as you turn to observe him while he pats on the cologne displayed on the sink, before brushing his teeth.

“I doubt anyone will try to steal me away.”

He looks at you in the reflection, a curious expression in his eyes, before he spits and rinses.

“Yes, well, you never know. You might run off with a French vineyard heir by the end of the night.”

“Never, Daichi. No one can be my Bulldog but you.”

He snorts, turning to watch as you lather yourself in Chanel shower gel, the scent mixing with the lavender already clinging to the air.

“Da, no one is like me.”

He leans down to place a chaste kiss on your lips before he exits the bathroom and changes into a clean outfit waiting for him in the Master bedroom. The made-to-measure Chanel suit hangs in a black garment bag that he carries out with him as he leaves to join the council meeting of the European Casino Association before the Annual Art Auction tonight.

The interaction runs through your mind as you mull over the look in his eyes, the way he tensed before he kissed you goodbye, the faintest flicker of jealousy in his eyes that flared when he joked about you leaving him. Suddenly, you remember Ryunoslav’s lips against your neck and you squeeze your eyes shut.  With a deep inhale, you sink deep under the water to feel it tickle your nostrils and earlobes, before submerging your head.

Your fingers find the curves of your thighs, dragging up slowly to feel how the water moves around your hands and displaces against your skin. You lift your face slightly, until the edge of the water tickles your skin and you inhale, swirling the skin of your clit. In your mind, Ryunoslav’s kisses fall hot and wet against your body, skin red and heated in the bathtub while you press hard circles against sensitive nerves. You’re not trying to take it slow, coaxing the first wave of clenches quickly as you imagine a thick cock sliding over and over inside you.

Ryunoslav morphs into Daichi, and you sit up with a gasp, fingers not slowing, your hand gripping the handle of the tub tightly as your abdomen contracts. Uncontrollably, Ryu and Daichi alternate, their bodies shifting fluidly until a faceless man fucks into you.

You orgasm on the verge of tears, confused and aching. The styling team will arrive in an hour.

You stand, feeling the cold winter air touch your heated skin. Wrapped again in the robe, you close the window and bind your hair in a towel.

A Russian Waltz still plays on the radio inside the ensuite office, and you look around to filter the channel to a French songstress crooning over the small speakers. Next to the stereo, is Daichi’s small black book, open to his to-do list, and your eyes scan over it before you can stop yourself, reading the neatly scribbled words.

14 March 2006, 1:00 am, La Serpent Fleur

That was the name of the Superyacht you and Daichi are to go on after the gala for the afterparty to the auction. You frown, thinking of the myriad of reasons what he might do there, who he’ll meet with other than the ECA board today. It must be to do with what happened in Georgia and was whispered to him during the flight.

You turn, leaving the book just as you found it and unpack the suitcase that was brought to the bedroom in preparation for tonight.

8. Tanaka

Ryunoslav waits at the front door, facing the short five-stair foyer that branches into the stairwell leading to the first floor. The golden light of the sunset filters in gentle waves through the chiffon curtains of the entry hall.

The first thing he sees of Valentina is in the reflection of the large silver mirror facing the stairwell on the landing. A single leg slinking out from a thigh-high slit, while a heart shaped pump in patent black is clasped around her ankle. The metal YSL heel clinks with each step. Next is the black, silk crepe de chine perfectly draping to the floor–not clinging to anything but the curve of her hips–and the bodice tailored to her waist in a tight structure that pendulums side-to-side.

However, what steals the very air from his lungs, stops his heart, is the bustier covering her breasts. The dress is strapless, the neckline two rounded cups that trace down the sides of her cleavage and towards her ribs before turning and meeting in a gentle hill at the end of her sternum. The dress is Yves Saint Laurent. Ryunoslav watches as Valentina rounds the stairwell and stands at the top of the foyer, opera length gloves running up her arms and with one hand on her hip while the other clasps a small black Bulgari clutch. Around her neck is a pendant necklace, emeralds glittering amongst diamonds and silver, set in the shape of a viper head. Matching emerald drop earrings hang from her lobes, reflecting the golden sun and glittering green against her neck. Valentina’s hair is pinned up, and that tattoo that curls from her left shoulder down her arm disappears beneath the gloves, reminding him that beauty is a secret poison. He swallows, blinks, then climbs up the steps to hand her the white fur coat he was holding.

“Vot eto da… You look beautiful, Mrs. Sawamurova.” Tanaka whispers, mindful of the bodyguards and staff littering the villa.

“Spasiba, Khazak,” she smiles, slipping her arms into the silk lining and fixing the collar. “Is the car ready?”

“Da.”

“Good, let’s go.”

The exchange between them feels mechanical, and Tanaka rushes ahead to open the car door, waiting until she is comfortable before shutting it and sliding into the driver’s seat. It is nowhere near the low temperatures of Russia in March, however he can’t stop the shivers that travel up his spine, and the ugly twist of jealousy that stabs at his heart.

The Casino de Monte Carlo, where the gala is being held, is a mere five minute drive from the villa, yet the silence is heavy, weighted, and slows down time.

“I missed you last week,” Valentina whispers, looking out the window at the midnight blue sky. A traffic light changes from red to green.

“Me too.”

The conversation ends when Ryunoslav pulls the Aston Martin around the fountain, waiting behind a elder couple stepping out of their black limo. The statues on either side of the Casino name look down at him as he parks and climbs out, a porter beating him to her door.

Camera’s flash, the music of a quartet floats out from the massive wooden doors up the entryway, and Ryunoslav remains closely behind Valentina’s right arm as he escorts her inside, pulling the ticket for both of them from his inner coat pocket and handing it to the doorman.

The grand foyer of the Casino is massive, ceilings high with a stained-glass skylight and the floor a white tile with black triangles in a circular pattern. Posed around the room, mostly in the center of the circles, are the artworks up for auction: a variety of paintings, sculptures, artifacts and some vintage designer jewellery. The golden chandeliers light the air with a sepia filter that softens the chatter and noise within. On the first floor bannister across the long hall, is a banner exclaiming, ‘2006 Annual ECA Art Auction’. Couples mingle, champagne is sipped and the Hors d’oeuvres are ignored in favour of the alcohol.

“I will check our coats,” Tanaka murmurs low in Russian, watching as Val slides the white fur down her arms to hand it to him with a polite smile, the kind he’s seen her wear in the public eye alongside Daichi for many years now.

“I’ll wait here, then we go find Daichi.”

His heart thumps painfully, the curve of her shoulders delicate as they flex in passing the heavy coat, but he nods and heads to the coat check just off the side. In passing, he spots Daichi at the top of the red-carpeted staircase, head bowed to speak secretly with someone Ryunoslav can not see, but knows. Daichi’s eyes find the growing storm in Tanaka’s with a smile, and he straightens to bid the woman a goodbye and descends the stairs.

“Sir,” Tanaka nods, pocketing the number for the coats.

“Ryunoslav,” Daichi returns the greeting, casually clapping the man on his shoulder. “Enjoy the evening, I will see you at the yacht later, yes?”

“She could’ve seen you, sir.” Tanaka whispers, carefully keeping eye contact with his Boss. Daichi smirks cooly, glancing back up the stairs and at a retreating woman’s back wearing a deep green dress.

“She did not see me. Thank you, again, for keeping this secret. Now, go, enjoy the party. Hell, if you see something you like, bid on it. I will pay.”

With that, Daichi walks past his Head of Security, chest puffing up as he walks towards his wife. Ryunoslav watches as she gives Daichi a gentle kiss on the cheek before wrapping a gloved hand around his bicep and following him into the crowd.

9. Valentina

The evening passes by in a blur.

The dinner and speeches take up half the evening before the auction begins, and the gala attendees disperse throughout the Casino, while you and Daichi walk to the gardens. Heaters are spaced periodically, warmth sinking below while gentle lights litter the walkways and grass. The stone steps leading there are cool, and you see your breath misting with each exhale before you’re back under the warmth.

The area of the auction outside has statues, planted with lighting that bring the romantic and violent figures to life.

“This one would look beautiful in our gardens in summer,” you muse, studying a small mermaid brushing her hair, tail flicked up and shells covering her breast.

“Anything for you,” Daichi replies, writing down a number with his auction code and placing it in the poll box besides the statue.

You just laugh politely, aware of Daichi’s two bodyguards following the both of you.

“Let’s go back inside. I want to see how our bid on the Kandinsky is doing.” Daichi offers, but you shake your head.

“I’ll walk around here for a bit longer. It’s such a beautiful night and the noise inside was giving me a headache.”

“As you wish.”

You spend a few minutes admiring the remaining statues, finding a waiter that hands you a glass of champagne. With small sips, you hug an arm around your waist, looking over the stone wall at the beautiful, glittering scenery of Monte-Carlo below. You find yourself tucked away in a dark corner of the ledge, where the lights of the gala are few, the tree branches of the gardens overhang, and the city has come to life beneath you. You can hear jazz music from a bar down the road, and you wish you were sitting on a terrace with a glass of wine instead.

“C’est magnifique, non?” A heavy french accent sinks into you, and you glance at the man that leans with his back to the view, a deep purple suit contrasting against his tanned skin and sharp cheekbones. He smokes a hand-rolled cigarette. You look back out at the city.

“Oui, trop beau,” you reply softly, taking another sip, shifting onto the foot farthest from the stranger. He turns and offers you one of the smokes, tucking it away in his jacket breast pocket with a smile and a tap when you decline. His eyes travel down your breasts, before glancing back up to your arching brows and unamused eyes.

“Je ne parle pas de la vue,” I do not mean the view, “Emmanuelle Beauchant,” he offers an outstretched palm.

“Valentina,” he lifts your gloved hand to his lips, but hovers just above contact when you continue, “Sawamurova.”

“Desolee, I did not realise you were not French, or married,” Emmanuelle apologises in English.

You smile politely, lifting the glass to your mouth to down the last of the fizzing alcohol.

“An honest mistake.”

“Your husband’s Casinos are some of my favourites. Please, accept my apologies. Let me get you a new glass.” He waves down a waiter, plucking the empty flute from your fingers and replacing it before you can reject. “I am the coordinator of this petite soiree. Enjoy your evening, Mrs. Sawamurova.” With that, he leaves in a hurry, scampering off into the light much like he had appeared, leaving you alone again. Almost.

You feel the warmth of another body to your right, and you almost sigh from exhaustion when Ryunoslav’s gruff voice washes over you in comforting Russian. It breaks like the wave against the shore.

“I thought I would have to scare him away.”

Tanaka’s serious eyes beneath the shadow of a deep brow pulls the first real chuckle of the evening from your chest, and you see his shoulders somewhat relax as he leans with a hip on the stone.

“It was innocent, Ryu.”

“He wanted to fuck you.”

“He’s French,” you counter, placing the champagne glass down, sliding it away from your body and towards the party. “And everyone wants to fuck me.”

You spin, losing your balance as Tanaka pulls your hand towards him and twists you so that your back presses against the cool stone in a darkened alcove. His forehead is on yours, eyes shut, and breath fanning over your lips. Your own chest heaves with the sudden rush. His hands dig into your hips, yours into his shoulders. Your bag drops to the floor.

“You have no idea,” each word is punctuated by palms shimmying up the side of your waist, thumbs digging into the fabric, “how badly I want to fuck you too.”

He wraps his thick forearms behind your back hugging you tight and into himself as he folds over you and brings his lips to touch yours. It’s deep, and although passion usually pours from his kiss, this one is born out of jealousy, desperation, and desire.

Compliments drip like honey from Ryunoslav’s mouth as he mumbles them into your skin, words melting so that they become part of you.

“Ryu, Ryu, stop, we can’t. It’s so open.”

He shushes you, a palm snaking under the boning of the open neckline to cup the breast, nipplie erect from the night chill. “No one saw me come here.”

“But the people. They know who I am, mmpf.” A pinch to your nipple has you moaning under your breath, head tilting back against the stone, cold against heated flesh.

“They are all too busy with their own conquests, showing up one another.”

“You light a fire in my heart,” his onslaught of compliments don’t cease, and you realise that tonight is the tipping point. The intensity of his words drag you beneath his waters, much like the way his fingers find the high slit of your dress and sink into your folds. Your knee falls open to let him pull you deeper.

“Underwear?”

“Not with this dress.”

“Whore.” Teeth nip at your neck.

“Yours.”

An animalistic groan rumbles through your veins from his mouth, and you clutch at the lapel of his jacket as his fingers thrust shallow, over and over again. You want him–need him– inside you, and the thought of public sex no longer scares you. In this moment, only Ryunoslav exists, the smell of lilies and the fresh ocean fill you, devouring you with a hint of something darker that you recognise as human.

Sin. And something else.

A zipper comes down, his cock unfolds and stretches you out.

“I love you.”

The words tumble from your lips before you can stop them, and even then, you don’t keep them in as you whisper, him thrustsing into your aching core. You vaguely hear him mumbling it back to you. His voice low and sincere, forehead against yours, lips against yours. Your bodies become one.

“Blyat, where can I?” desperation fills his voice, and you barely utter the words before he spills inside you, keeping you warm and plugged up, panting against his face, chin tucked down.

A hand rifles through his pants pocket, and he pulls out his regular small handkerchief, stained, but comforting. You take it from him, careful to keep your face hidden as he pulls out and you wipe yourself under your skirt.

“Ryunoslav.” His name feels like lava, molten on your tongue as it rolls down your body and ignites a fire over your skin, burning you. “We have to stop seeing each other.”

He tenses against you, arms shielding you from the world so only the two of you exist.

“Why?”

“We’ve changed. We’re not just having fun anymore, Ryu-”

“What do you mean we’ve changed?”

“Us. This.” You curse, gesturing vaguely to him and yourself, feeling the fire spread to your ears and your heart.

“Nothing has changed. I have always loved you.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, turning over and over as you digest it, painfully aware of how much truth rings in his words, and how you’re sure you’ve always loved him back.

“We have to stop. Or we have to tell Daichi.”

His lips connect with your forehead. You hear him swallow.

“Tonight then. Together.”

“Together.”

Ryunoslav stays close to you as he picks up the bag from the floor, handing you the mirror inside to fix your lipstick, your hair, before you dust the stone from your back and ass.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers to you a final time, stepping to the side so you emerge from the shadow, pick up your forgotten champagne glass and head back into where art dances together and people mingle.

10. Tanaka

Tanaka watches as Valentina saunters away, past the bodies to rejoin the party. With a heavy sigh, he leans against the stone, cooling his forehead and calming his thumping heart. His feet bump against something and with one eye, he squints at the ground and spots glittering emeralds in the dark. Her necklace.

Quickly, he picks it up, carefully placing it in his suit jacket pocket, and curses when he sees the time on his watch. He has to find Daichi and head to the yacht to do the final security checks before he arrives. Vines wrap themselves around his intestines, anxiety leaking into each step, the emerald necklace a dead weight in his jacket.

He finds the Boss surrounded by influential board members, holding a glass of vodka casually as they all laugh at his jokes. The Chanel suit drapes down his broad back perfectly, clean cut and sharp, the single seam a crisp line.

“Sorry for interrupt,” Tanaka apologies, English tangling on his tongue. He continues in a low Russian to Daichi, sweat beading on the back of his neck, palms clammy and therefore kept in his pants pocket. It’s better that way, his tattoos are less appreciated around the higher class of society.

Daichi nods, a loose smile along with his loosened tie. He hands Tanaka a paper that shows he won the bid on the Kandinsky painting. “Arrange this on the way out. Leave Valentina’s coat with mine.”

“Ya ponimayu.”

Tanaka turns to leave, but Daichi calls out one more time.

“Ryunoslav?”

“Da?”

“You have lipstick on your collar.”

Tanaka feels nausea bubbling up his gut, not from the proximity of your scent to The Bulldog’s nose, but from the thought of later tonight. He forces a cocky smirk and shrug, turning on his heel to head to the back office to finalise the paperwork for the painting and add the delivery address, before shrugging his thick coat on and stepping outside by the valet. The air has cooled considerably from the heat of the balcony and between your thighs. Once safely in the car, he rubs the stain furiously in the reflection of the rearview mirror, making it set even further into the white fabric. It blends into the threads like spilt blood. With a grumble, he drives to the harbor.

La Serpent Fleur is a sleek superyacht with three decks above water and one below, housing jet ski’s, a speedboat, storage and crew quarters. The middle and lower decks have outdoor and indoor seating, with main bedrooms for up to 15 couples to sleep in. The flooring and interior is light teakwood, rich brown accents amongst cream and white leather and fabric. It’s unmissable in the late night, lit up in silvery white, the name illuminated against a navy blue sky and pitch black water. It reflects stars in the meditterean sea.

Tanaka greets all staff, deploying his bratva across the yacht to inspect all rooms and inform the captain of the upcoming helicopter landing at 1:00 am. It’s not often that Mafia business mixes with Business business, but as money is always intertwined, this time, it is unavoidable. The pool on the top deck shimmers aquamarine, and Tanaka inspects that the bar is fully stocked for the upcoming meeting. Vodka and Campari. This floor is only for Daichi and a select few.

“It’s like I’m a fucking assistant,” he grumbles under his breath, withdrawing a small hand-gun strapped to his calf and securing it in the hidden shelf under the bar top. You never know, he smiles, tapping the holster against his back for comfort.

All checks are done by the time the first of the guests arrive, high-stakes rollers for the gambling about to happen. Tanaka keeps to the shadows, lighting a cigarette as he surveys the walkway leading up to the yacht, and it’s guests. They are all smiling, huddling together in their pair against the cool ocean breeze. He takes a look at the pack that was confiscated from Ukai with distaste, flicking the cigarette into the ocean water.

Daichi and Valentina are the last to arrive, and although he’s smiling, she is not, lipstick slightly faded and a smudge of mascara under her eyes. Tanaka watches as she disappears as soon as she set foot on the yacht, hurrying off to inside the cabin before anyone can stop her. Tanaka’s eyes follow her retreating figure, the white of her coat bristling, before he steps up to greet Daichi.

“Everything is ready for Kuroo Testuro to arrive, Boss,” he reports, murmuring low.

“Perfect, evening has turned into disaster. Make sure no one will disturb us except for emergency. It will not take long. What is his eta?” Daichi never lowers the corners of his mouth, but those brown eyes are hard mahogany. Tanaka checks his watch, the light above reflecting in the glass, shining in the storm in his eyes.

“Forty-five minutes. We have to set sail now, all guests have arrived and the poker tables inside have been set up.”

“I will wait upstairs.”

“Yes, Boss.”

Tanaka sighs, running a hand over his shorn hair, a shiver rippling down his spine. He hears his name, and he turns to face one of his brothers, following after to inspect a stairwell.

It does not take long for the party to fall into full swing. Continuing with free-flowing champagne is the key to keeping rich socialites and underground dealers happy and oblivious. Daichi stands near the railing, ice cubes in his glass clinking while he surveys the decks below and waits. Tanaka stands to attention off the side, the cool winter air breezing through his suit jacket, the veins on his knuckles and forearms almost frozen; he stuffs them into his pockets. The cool silver of Valentina’s necklace shocks him and he remembers he has to sneak it back to her. He peers over the edge, spotting her in the distance, smiling once more, makeup fixed and socialising.

His heart thumps, emeralds and diamonds cutting a hole in his jacket pocket, beating faster until it syncs up with the incoming helicopter blades. They whir around in a steady beat that consumes the noise below and thrums through his bones. Then, the wind hits him. Air cold as ice as the machine descends, the collar of his jacket whipping up and folding into itself. Kuroo Testuro has arrived.

The blades come to a halt and Tanaka steps forward, two men overtaking him to climb up the stairs of the helicopter pad landing and open the door. Long legs dressed in a black pin-stripe suit step out, a lopsided cocky smirk plastered on the Italian boss’s face.

“Ciao Daichi, it’s been a while!” Kuroo calls over the wind, arms stretching out while he’s patted down. “Khazak, you’re looking sour.”

Tanaka scowls, not entirely sure what The Panther of the Testuro family said to him. Daichi turns to face the man completely, walking until he stands next to Tanaka, waiting for the man to descend the white metal stairs to the upper deck. The Boss’s exchange a stiff handshake, their eyes piercing as one fights for dominance over the other. Daichi wins, his hand slapping against Kuroo’s back in a hearty greeting.

“Let’s get to business, something to drink?” The Bulldog offers, but Kuroo is laughing, already walking to the leather sofas around the pool, flopping down onto it with one leg crossed over the other. He waves to one of his bodyguards, pointing at the bar.

“Always so formal Daichi, tell me, how is Valentina? Still married to you?” Kuroo’s words tumble out quickly, Italian accent thick enough that Tanaka can only pick up on a few words. He registers your name, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention, ready to attack at Daichi’s order. The Boss takes a deep breath, his teeth gritting.

“She is fine. Enjoying party below.”

“Pity, I think she’d be happier up here with us. Won’t you call her?”

“Careful, Kuroo.”  Daichi warns, but the Panther just smiles his wicked Cheshire grin in return.

“Ah, I’m joking. I will just keep the fantasy of her lips around my–”

A hand darts out over Kuroo’s shoulder, interrupting any further explanation of imagination. Tanaka grabs Daichi’s arm, one that had tensed with it’s fist closed around a concealed gun in a holster on his back.

“Campari, sir?”

“Ah! Grazie!” He takes a sip, setting it down on the glass table beside him. “Now, we can talk business.”

Tanaka listens to the low conversation between the two bosses, the discussion of the new trade route of cocaine between Italy and Russia. It takes some time to adjust to the accent, but then he’s following along, standing with his hands in his pockets, a thumb gliding over the necklace. There had been an interruption along the coasts between Lecce and Albania, several different Sicillian Mafia’s holding up some of Daichi’s shipments due to unpaid ‘reparations’, a farce to ignite a turf war between the Families in Italy and their Russian connections.

“You must call off your friends in Italy. We keep up our end of bargain. I will not be so understanding in future.”

“Ah, but you see, they are greedy and believe you are not paying properly for the passage.”

“I assure you, I am.”

Tanaka stiffens, seeing how Daichi begins to inflate, irritation lacing his voice. Kuroo chuckles, taking a slow sip with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, I believe you. I can convince them but I’ll need some extra incentive from your end.”

Tanaka speaks up, eyes narrowing as he sniffs out Kuroo’s angle. “We can not give you that.”

“You are one of the largest groups in the world, surely you have some men for me?”

“No.”

Tanaka’s blood begins to boil, nails biting into the skin of his palms enough to draw blood. The gun strapped on his back heavy as it calls to be unholstered. His men are not dispensable. Kuroo sighs, then his eyes glance to the left where the noise of the party floats in the night air, and he smiles.

“Then maybe you have a woman.”

Tanaka turns to follow his gaze, and climbing up the stairs slowly is Valentina, a hand on the metal rail, the white fur coat hanging down her back as it drapes from her elbows, lipstick blood red. She’s drunk, giggling to herself but stops when a vor blocks the final step onto the deck. Then, she sobers, straightening instantly with narrowed eyes.

“Asahi,” she says, voice sharp but breathless.

“The Boss is in a meeting.”

Her makeup had been fixed, the tips of her nose and ears pink from the chill, her hair no longer pinned up but wild down her back from the wind. Tanaka glances at Daichi, his eyes muddy and lips tightly pursed.

“Oh, let her join, huh?” Kuroo grins, setting his glass down and leaning forward to interlock his fingers and rest his elbows on his knees. “Surely, you trust her enough.”

“Of course.”

Daichi and his guest battle in their stares, but ultimately the Panther wins. With a sigh, Daichi calls out to Alexei, “let her through.”

Valentina strides over to the men, coat dragging on the floor behind her. Surprising everyone, she stops in front of the cocky bastard, who stands to greet her, and their cheeks brush twice, left then right.

“Kuroo, how lovely to see you again. I hope my husband is kind.”

Tanaka holds back a wince, the feeling of her warm breath against his neck still teasing him in his memories. He has to admire her acting, even inebriated, she commands attention. Their eyes follow when she walks to the head of the table and flops down onto the chair, slit falling open with crossed legs.

“He’ll be kinder now that you are here.”

Valentina laughs, “yes, but I might not be.”

“Enough.” Daichi cuts through the jovial small talk, fists clenching and resting on his knees, his back straight. “I am tired of games.”

Tanaka thinks he catches a double meaning, heart racing as he readies himself for anything.

“You own Casinos,” Kuroo drawls, but he’s no longer smiling, still standing. Daichi gets to his feet, shorter than his counterpart, but thicker.

“We are getting nowhere. I will not be included in your battle for control, and if my next shipment continues to be held, God is not the only one that can turn water into wine. Capisci?”

Their stares are intense, and seconds tick by in eternity, before Kuroo nods with a sigh, a hand tucking into his pants pocket while the other extrends. They shake, curt and stiff, and Tanaka rolls his shoulders, loosening the knots in his upper back, eyeing Valentina curiously. She has her eyes focused on Daichi, pupils narrow and mouth pressed into a thin line; the same look she had when she boarded the yacht. She snaps out of it, lips curling up as she stands.

“It was a pleasure, although short,” Kuroo tells her, and they exchange polite kisses. Tanaka hears the rumble in Daichi’s chest, and he briefly wonders if she’s purposefully trying to anger the Bulldog. She’s always been unafraid of his bark, a viper teasing with her fangs.

They wait until Kuroo climbs back in the helicopter, until the blades whir to life with that beating drum that pumps adrenaline through his body and until it is quiet once more, the waves sloshing far below against the yacht. The air is crisp, and the silence heavy. Valentina turns to face Daichi, neck tense, mouth open but Daichi cuts her off.

“Don’t embarrass me like that again.”

Tanaka bristles, the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He controls the need to step in front of Val, to shield her from his Boss. The weight of her necklace in his pocket keeps him anchored. His heart pounds in his ears, Daichi glances at him briefly before keeping an unwavering eye on Valentina’s fierce gaze. It’s odd. Tanaka always has a plan, knows what will happen next, and yet, he is at a loss. Unsteady on his feet as the boat rocks. He’s unsure of what she will do, how she will tell her possessive husband–

“I’m seeing someone.”

11. Valentina

Lightning flashes in the distance when the words leave your lips, the thunder rumbling in the silence that follows. You watch Daichi carefully, standing your ground even though parts of you scream to take a few steps back. You resist the temptation to glance at Ryunoslav. During your musings, you decided not to say who it was right away. Daichi glances down at your bare neck, the necklace he’d given you missing, lost somewhere at the gala when you finally lost yourself in emotion. You remember the fight with him when leaving the venue.

You expected Daichi to burst in anger, explode outwards and destroy everything with his fury. Yet he remains silent, eyes mattifying as he draws inward, no longer oiled mahogany but rather sanded wood. When he speaks, it’s so low you almost miss it, but it penetrates you with the next flash of lightning.

“Leave.”

White, hot anger burns through you at his command, your hands raising as though to grab his lapel. Quickly, you reroute to pulling your fur coat back onto your shoulders.

“You don’t want to know who?”

“You don’t want to know what I am thinking right now, Gadyuka.”

You open your mouth to respond, but Ryunoslav cuts you off, “take the boat, please.”

You stare incredulously at him, but he is already speaking in a low voice onto a handheld receiver, then back at Daichi, who’s body slowly begins to vibrate. However, Daichi is no longer looking at you. Instead, his eyes have shifted to Ryu, brows furrowed. Thunder claps. You feel the first spray of rain misting onto your eyelashes.

“Fine, we will talk more at breakfast.”

You turn on your heel, the sound grating against the wooden deck, and someone from the Brigade accompanies you down the stairs, walking just slightly ahead of you, silently asking you to follow.

You descend slowly, crossing the second deck with a practised smile, apologising to anyone that approaches you with an easy lie. Most of the crewmen begin to pack up and rearrange the party to continue on indoors. You enter the large cabin, and walk down another flight of stairs, to the first deck and then lower still. Here, the walls change from luxurious wooden, glass and metal to open beams, and white gritty flooring. It’s slightly wet, from the rain that batters against the open exit and the ocean water shimmering inside.

A small speedboat waits for you, not fully submerged, and a captain, yet his face is wary.

“Mrs. Sawamurova,” he holds his hat in his hands, a navy raincoat wrapped around his uniform, “wouldn’t you rather wait for the storm to pass? Please, enjoy the evening and when the water is still, I can take you to shore in an instant.”

“My husband wants me gone.”

“But not dead.”

You laugh, bitterly, feeling your intestines swirl, unsettled by those words. He’s brave.

“How long do you think it will take?”

“A few minutes, maximum. It is the winter rain, harsh but quick.”

“I will wait here.”

12. Tanaka

When the top of Valentina’s head disappears down the stairs, Daichi speaks, not looking at Tanaka. The first of fat raindrops begin to fall onto their shoulders.

“I will have to talk to her father, after I kill her.”

Tanaka’s tongue is heavy in his mouth, every bump dry and scratching against his throat. He can’t be serious. Slowly, Daichi turns to face him, eyes raking over his closest subordinate’s features, down his throat, and settles on the crisp white collar peeking out from his suit jacket, stained the same colour as Valentina’s lipstick.

“Khazak, who is it?”

“Boss–” but he doesn’t know what to say. The memories of the prison hospital bed, bare with just a sheet, an unsterilised IV drip stuck into his arm flashes in front of his mind. Daichi’s calm face that visited him before he woke up somewhere else.

“Tell me right now, or does your loyalty mean nothing?”

Tanaka winces, “nyet, Boss, you know I am loyal to you.”

He takes a deep breath, then reaches inside, fingers looping around diamonds to pull out the necklace, the viper head swaying back and forth. His heart claps with the thunder, the clouds breaking into a heavy downpour. Chill sets in instantly, his bones freezing beneath his suit.

“Supply snakes with a meal, and you will have them all by the fangs,” Daichi whispers under his breath, barely audible above the pattering of the drops against the floor, but Tanaka’s sensitive ears pick it up. “She played me for a fool.” Daichi’s wide-set eyes lift from the necklace to Tanaka’s.

“Mne ochyn zhal,” Tanaka begins to apologise profusely, but the hardened look shuts him up.

“I was wrong, Khazak,” Daichi interrupts, his hands moving to his pockets, Tanaka dropping his arm to his side. He starts to walk towards the sheltered area of the deck, withdrawing a pack of cigarettes. “You are the one that is going to have to kill her.”

Tanaka’s heart drops to his stomach, falling straight into the floor and sinking to the bottom of the unruly ocean. The Boss does not joke around, but he wishes for it to be one.

“I can not, Boss,” his head shakes, body vibrates. This is the first time he has ever refused an order from Daichi. The Bulldog watches with raised eyebrows, the question evident on his face.

“I am in love with her.”

The bark that erupts from Daichi’s throat echoes above the rain, above the thunder, and shatters inside Tanaka’s heart. He holds the cigarette to his lips, and Tanaka feels the rain drip down the rivulets of his shaved hair and under the collar of his suit and shirt. There’s a flicker of orange as the Marlboro tip glows.

“And you think she loves you back? Valentina is a snake, a woman. They know only two things: how to lie and how to fuck. You have fucked her, da? It’s magnificent. Was she the second whore of that weekend? Or was she first as well? How long have you been fucking my wife, Ryunoslav?”

Tanaka wants to answer, but it catches in his throat. His tongue refuses to mould the shapes, his lungs refuse to exhale the sound. Daichi sighs.

“It does not matter. Only one thing matters. Come.”

Tanaka walks towards Daichi, each step kicking water down his shoes, his socks wet. He’s never felt more like the ocean than now, swallowed by the rain, drowning. He stops when he stands under the partition, Daichi’s large hands cupping themselves under Tanaka’s chin to lift his head slightly, wiping the rain from his skin, the gold rings cold against his jaw. There may have been tears but Tanaka can’t tell, numb and expectant of Daichi’s next words,

“Tell me, do you love her more than me?”

Cigarette smoke tickles Tanaka’s nose, and he holds his breath. Without him, Tanaka would be dead. Daichi knows this, Tanaka knows this.

“I owe you my life, Pakhan.”

“Now, you owe me a life. I am not without mercy. You have been the closest brother to me. You have tasted the sweet fruit of sin, I can not blame you. You know I have done it too. But I am expected to sleep with someone else. She has embarrassed me. I can not have that. A Boss that can not keep his woman in line? No one will respect me, her own father will not respect me.”

Tanaka remembers the conversation in the banya, the plans to take over completely, the poor health Valentina’s old man is in.

“Are you loyal, or are you just another predatel, scum like the men you erase from existence?”

The storm in Tanaka’s eyes swirl around, clashing against the hard forest floor of Daichi’s. He is loyal. Strangely, in this moment, he remembers the lilies of his home, and their sweet, comforting fragrance, his mother making dinner, and his sister who ran with him to their new life before separating. The pain of losing her no longer stabs at him, maybe this pain someday will not either.

13. Valentina

The room is white and grey, the smell of oil and rubber and metal and salt clinging to the air, to your skin. All the alcohol consumed over the evening seeps from your pores, creating a pounding in your head. You begin to wonder if it was ever a good idea to tell Daichi. You wonder what happened when you left, and you wonder where your necklace is. Your fingers brush over your sternum, feeling the ghost of the viper head and of Tanaka’s mouth.

You taptaptap your toes against the floor, the rain echoing in time, the water drawing in and out rhythmically as you wait for the storm to pass. Only a few minutes, you were told.

“Few minutes, my ass.”

The walkie-talkie connected to the captain’s hip shocks to life, and broken Russian floats up, but you can’t make out the words. He answers, smiles at you, “please, wait here. I will be back soon.”

Then, he leaves, and you’re left alone with the brat that accompanied you. He sighs heavily, as though the inconvenience to him is all your doing, and you glare.

“Is there a problem, soldier?” you ask, standing straight, arms crossed in front of your chest. They seem to forget, Daichi married into your family, not the other way around.

“Nyet, Gadyuka, prosti,” he apologises quickly.

Silence settles over the hull again, claustrophobia leaching into your veins. If you look out at the open hatch, you can see inky blackness, and far in the distance, the faint yellow lights of Monte Carlo. You are about to ask for some water when footsteps echo against the metal walls, a familiar gait.

“Leave us, pazolvste.”

Ryunoslav says to his subordinate, who swiftly salutes him and walks up the stairs. The door at the top clicks shut. You’re speechless, and he is sopping wet.

“Ryu,” you whisper, walking towards him and draping your arms around his shoulders, uncaring at the feeling of water pressing into the fabric of your dress, dripping between the open gap of your breasts. He’s stiff when you touch him, but soon melts, nose nuzzling into your neck and breathing deeply. He still smells like crisp apple and fresh seawater.

“Why are you here?”

“Daichi knows.”

You’ve never felt colder, warmer, like a fever and frostbite all at once. You feel him rustle against your bodies, and you let go to watch him pull the Bulgari necklace out, lifting your hand to place it in your palm. Your fingers close around the jewels automatically.

“I told him I love you.”

There are no words that come to your mind in that instant. Emotions, many. Relief, nausea, stillness and rage, love for the man in front of you. You ache to feel his warm, corded muscles against your skin. He looks pained, eyes tormented as he looks into your soul.

“How did he react?”

“Not well.”

“And?”

He gives no space for continuation, pulling you tightly against his body, arms snaking around your waist as his lips fall against your mouth. His skin is cool, wet, pressing to your heated cheeks, but his mouth is inviting. There is passion unlike what you’ve experienced before. It tastes like freedom, like a new day and endless night. It’s the smoke on the fire, and the salt of the sea. He’s crying, you realise, and you open your mouth to lick up a tear on the corner of his mouth.

The necklace slips from your fingers when you grab him, pushing the jacket of his suit from his shoulders to drop to the already wet floor. There’s a faint crunch, but neither one of you pull away to look at the crushed jewel beneath your heel. It’s just so right to kiss him. In this moment, the world falls away and it’s just the two of you. His taste fills you with a feeling that rivals being whole, satiated. Something hard pokes against your hip, and you smile into the kiss, lips moving to his jaw to suck on an earlobe.

But you freeze. Daichi is at the top of the stairs.

“I’m sorry,” Ryunoslav whispers.

You frown, his words not registering and when you pull back to ask what is happening, he ensnares another kiss from you, tears flowing freely, something hard, cold, now presses against your temple and–

.

.

.

End.

-----

Thank you for reading, truly. This fic honestly has so much of my heart and soul in it. I had so much fun writing it. I hope you’re not too mad about the ending lmao.

@dee-madwriter , @pleasantanathema​​​ , @lookslikeleese​​​ , @linestrider​​​ , @hisoknen​​​ , @mindninjax​​​ , @whats-her-quirk​​​ , @messwriting​

[cocobwrites]

Once Upon A Time in Santa Ana

Summary:  Once Upon a Time, Angel Reyes knew you and you knew him. Once Upon a Time, Angel Reyes loved you and you loved him. In him, your teenage hopes and dreams found a home, a safe haven. Angel Reyes took your love and spat it back out at you with malice. Once Upon a Time Angel Reyes accepted a tender, fragile love and burned it down. This is the story of a man trying to rekindle his first love from the ashes.

Chapter 1

                                        Ghost Two: Angel 

Angel was unsettled, unnerved and on edge. There were too many ghosts here. The weight of his past decisions was heavy on his conscience. The streets he rode down lead to memories of emotional crimes he’d sooner forget, and the clubhouse felt like it had the potential to morph into his own personal insane asylum. 

“Angel!” The man being shouted at turned to the sound of the voice. This was the second time today that he’d been slapped in the face by a ghost of his past. The first was by his own doing. Angel knew without a doubt that walking into that convenience store was inviting hurt that he wasn’t 100% sure he could deal with, but the temptation of possibly being so close to you and not attempting to see you was too much. 

In front of him now was ghost number 2, Shania. Shania was the perceived catalyst in Angel’s love story. The cousin/best friend to the girl he first gave his heart to. The devil on his love’s shoulder egging her on to do what she desired most and covering for her disappearance acts. 

The last time Angel saw Shania she was just on the brink of womanhood. At 18 her face still held a girlish charm while her body was blossoming into full adulthood. Looking at her now the transition was complete. Her once rounded cheeks were still full but defined. Her eyes told a story of secrets that came with being grown, and her hips swayed in a way that marked her confidence. In short, Shania had finished growing up. Her hair hung in long coils hitting her waist. They were dyed a bright red and highlighted a lighter red that held a pink tone.  The colors complimented her sepia-toned skin. 

Shania threw her arms around Angel’s neck and pulled him tight swaying back and forth. Angel needed the hug. He needed the affirmation that he hadn’t burned every bridge he built while he was here all those summers ago. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath absorbing the warmth and comfort Shania offered.

“Damn, it’s been a long time,” Shania said while letting go. She smiled up at her former friend. “You forget how a phone works?” She asked following it up with a slap to his arm. “I’m mad at you Angel. Just dipped out without a goodbye and then went ghost. “ These fools” she pointed a thumb in the general direction of the members “treat information about other chapters like they’re in the CIA.” she shook her head.

“How have you been?” Shania finished with a bright smile waiting to hear about how things had been with Angel. 

Angel in return just ran a hand down his face and answered with a short “Shit” followed by a shrug of uncertainty. “I mean good I guess.” He raised his hand palm up and rolled his fingers outward in a questioning gesture. “Just doing club shit.”

Shania’s brow creased and her smile dropped, the face she was currently sporting was eerily reminiscent of her uncle. Angel was sure it was a family trait. “Wow, that was a really insightful look into what life has been like for the last'' she waved her hand “however long.”

Angel laughed, appreciating the blunt but humorous honesty. “Do you want a drink, Angel?” Shania asked and looked over her shoulder apparently feeling EZ approach. 

“Shania, this is my brother EZ. EZ, this is Shania. Shooter’s daughter.” Angel watched EZ stick his hand out and give a half-smile. Shania accepted it and gave it one firm shake. She didn’t let go though. Instead, she turned back to Angel and said “So, is the whole family fine, or were the genes reserved for just y’all?’ She finished what a laugh that mixed with Angels and was accompanied by EZ’s own chuckle. 

“I’m going to grab you a drink.” She finished with a wink and went to do just that. 

EZ stepped up to Angel and watched the girl walk away. “So, that’s Shooter’s daughter meaning she’s the cousin to the unnamed girl.”

Angel knew EZ had said you were unnamed for the sole purpose to get him talking. “She’s not unnamed” Angel answered back not without irritation. 

“Then what’s her name?”  Asked EZ angling himself towards his older brother.

Angel supplied your name. “Look, man, I don’t really want to get into this right now. Just let it alone for a bit EZ.” 

Angel stalked off towards Shania meeting her half-way to get his drink. In truth Angel really didn’t want to get into the nitty-gritty about you but he knew he had to. EZ was at a disadvantage not knowing the truth of how Angel left. There were old wounds here that he wasn’t sure fully healed. If judging by how your father reacted and how Shooter was treating him he’d have to say they were very much still open and sore. Why though? That was something that he was hoping to ply information from Shania. 

She handed Angel an open bottle of beer and clinked her own to his before taking a sip. She turned to the side so she was facing him and leaned against an unoccupied pool table.  Angel muttered a thank you and then mimicked her pose. 

Shania took a breath as if to say something, but stopped having changed her mind, and instead took a sip of her beer. 

“Does she know I’m here?” Angel asked deciding to just cut to the chase. “Hell, is she even still here?”

Shania just looked at him for a moment before answering. “Are you being serious right now? You sure you want to open that can of worms?” She huffed and shook her head. Shania set her bottle down on the green of the table and folded her arms over her chest. “Angel, I’m going, to be honest with you.” She paused again. It seemed she was unsure if she wanted to say what she was thinking, but her lips tightened for just a moment and she continued on. 

“You fucked up bad when you left here like you did. At least you gave the appearance that you did.” Her eyes narrowed briefly while she looked Angel over. “I’m willing to forgive and forget. It’s been a long ass time and it’s clear that y’all haven’t had any form of contact. My daddy and uncle on the other hand….” She trailed off. 

“My daddy won’t say anything since it didn’t involve the club, but I’d step lightly around him. Also-” she poked his arm. “Keep yo tail away from my uncle. That man has been itching to beat you down for years. He’s old but he’s quick and trust me, he hits hard.”

“Now do you really want to know the answers to those questions?” She shook her head. “Don’t go pickin’ at scabs unless you’re ready to treat the cut.”

 “I hear you, Shania. I do forreal” Angel paused “and if you don’t think it’s good for her to know I’m here, don’t tell her. I just have to know. Is she still here?” Angel tried to keep the desperation out of his voice but was failing. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about you, but as of late he felt like he was spiraling. There was a need to feel something genuine and untainted again. Something was telling him he could do that with you.

Shania nodded along and listened. “Yeah, she’s still here.”She said casually while pulling her phone out. “Well, more like here again. She moved back home a few years ago.” She continued while apparently responding to a text on her phone. 

“As far as her knowing if you’re back-” She paused again and Angel heard the distinctive single vibration of her phone. Shania nodded in satisfaction. “Put your number in here.” She handed Angel the phone. “I want to be able to get in touch with you again.”

Angel did as directed more focused on if Shania was going to tell follow through and tell you. Shania, for her part, took the phone back and continued to tap away. “She knows now and I gave her your number.” She then pushed off the table and took a swig of her drink while walking away. Angel watched her pocket the phone and felt his stomach drop, rise up in an attempt to lodge in his throat before finally filling with moths. There were no butterflies here. Butterflies were reserved for happy reunions that would be filled with smiles and warm hugs. 

In the time he’d been back Angel had been met primarily with cold acceptance or outright hostility save for Shania. He didn’t know what he’d get with you. He didn’t know if he’d get anything from you. As badly as Angel wanted this reunion he was scared to death of it. 

He’d been reminded multiple times since getting back to Santa Ana that his departure had been less than ideal. From what he was gathering, the ripples of his decisions went farther than he thought they would. Angel huffed to himself and raised his bottle to down the rest. 

When his eyes closed he saw your face; confused and tear-streaked, a silent question on your lips “Why?” He wasn’t sure if what he was remembering was the true sound of your voice or just what he imagined it. While everyone was worried about protecting you they were ignoring the vulnerability Angel was submitting himself to. 

Was your relationship as good as he remembered? Had he taken only the best highlights of it and committed them to memory, leaving all the mess to be forgotten? That was the scary thing about memories. You could never be sure if what you were recalling was the truth or the romanticized version used to get through melancholy.

Angel looked to the now empty bottle and just stared at the label, not really seeing it. Instead is mind was playing that moment on a loop. “Why?” The memory version continued to ask and never getting a true answer. “Because I could” Angel found himself whispering the implied response. 

You had his number. That knowledge left his phone feeling like a boulder in his pocket. Would you use it? Would you let this be content with never having a true resolution? If you did use it would you come at him like your pops? Would you give him a cold welcome like your uncle or would he have you back? Could he take a stroll down memory lane and make you smile like you used to? Would he get to hear that melodic laugh again? Would Angel get a chance at redemption?

Angel eased a long sigh and let the hand holding the bottle fall to his side. He took strides towards the bar looking for another drink and felt the weight of two pairs of eyes on him. A quick glance confirmed they belonged to EZ, observant as usual, and Shania, scrutinizing and assessing. It was going to be a long weekend.

[solarscholarsofmagick]

4 Ways to Juggle Adult Life With Your Craft

As the years go by, teenagers who experiment with witchcraft grow into adults. Some of these adults keep with the craft and find a lifestyle that really speaks to them. But, as we grow into adulthood, life (and our responsibilities) change. All of a sudden, we have jobs, relationships, finances, and more. At the end of the day, this means that life becomes busy. So busy, in fact, that sometimes our craft becomes lost and it become hard to find time between it all.

Miss your craft? Here are some tips to help you find your magick again!

1. All the Small Things, True Care Truth Brings

Magick doesn’t always need to include elaborate, skyclad rituals. There are tons of small, magick-filled actions that you can easily incorporate into your life on the fly.

A simple cleansing. You can clean more than your physical body in the shower. Imagine the soap taking the dark sludge of negative energy with it down the drain.

Charm your perfume as a quick and easy glamour. You can also do this to your make-up as well! Glamours are essentially real-life shape-shifting and/or invisibility spells. Here’s a quick glamour, if you don’t know where to begin:

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

Ingredients:

A rose quartz crystal

An amethyst crystal

10 (preferably small) regular quartz crystals

A black candle

Procedure:

Find a flat surface.

Place the candle down and place the rose quartz in front of the candle and the amethyst behind the candle.

Place 5 of the regular quartz crystals to the left of the candle and the other 5 to the right. The crystals should form a circle around the candle.

Light the candle and chant, “By my will, I shall control perception of me.”

Wait until the candle burns out.

Place the amethyst, rose quartz, and 1 of the quartz crystals either in your bottle/cap of perfume or in a baggy near where you get ready for the day. This will need to be charged once a week!

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

Take 5 minutes each day to say your thanks/prayer to your gods. This doesn’t need to be spoken out loud. You could even think it while on the bus!

Coordinate the colors of your outfit with your intent for the day. For example, wear blue to help with a stressful event, yellow if you want it to be a happy day full of good communication, green if you are asking for a raise, et cetera. Colors hold power!

As an easy offering to your gods, make a playlist dedicated to them.

2. Going Incognito

Sometimes, we want to proudly display our witchiness. However, with the stigma behind witches, sometimes we want to be recognizable to other witches, but not to the mundane.*

Wear crystal necklaces. While the popularity of this is growing, every time I see someone wearing a crystal necklace, I wonder.

Wear clothing with your deity’s image or symbol(s) on it. Not only is this noticible to other witches, but this is also a wonderful and easy way to worship said deity.

Try out rune/sigil nail art. To others who are not familiar, they will appear as simply abstract art.

Magickal symbol tattoos. The same logic as the last point applies to this one.

Find a community of witches near you! Having a community means that there is a space where you don’t have to hide who you are. Back in the so-called olden days, we could use a website called Witch’s Vox, but at the time of writing this article, it is going away soon. Instead, it is easy to find a community by looking for your local pagan society, Facebook groups, or other social media. You can even find a community online! Websites good for that include Reddit, Tumblr, and the Amino app.

3. Baby Shield Me One More Time!

No matter how busy, actually, especially if you’re busy, shielding is a very important task. If you are an empath, one could argue that it’s absolutely necessary. By shielding, I do not mean walking around with an actual shield. It means using your magick to protect yourself from unwanted negative energy. Sometimes this energy comes in the form of the stress from those around you, too many emotions or energy from a crowd around you, and even a magickal (usually psychic) attack. This writer’s favorite way of shielding is to imagine a golden, shimmering, impenetrable bubble.

4. You’re Stressed? Have You Tried Yoga?

A little stress is good for you! It’s what kept our species alive by telling us, “Hey, you should worry about this for your survival,” such as for finding reliable food and water and guarding against predators. However, there is a line (that is different for every person, dog, cat, and hedgehog), where it becomes unhealthy. Too much stress can impact your sleep and eating habits, your mental health, your productiveness, and even your physical health. If your stress is so bad that it is severely impacting your quality of life, you should consider speaking to a medical professional. So, as you read the tips below, remember, magick should be a supplement to medical help, not a substitution!

Carry a rose quartz with you. This crystal is known for its strong properties of calming and confidence. Alternatively, selenite will continually cleanse and shield your aura from negativity and/or harm.

Burn a blue candle/wear blue clothing. Once again, we reach the idea that colors are powerful! Blue is the most common color used for calming. Try burning one while meditating!

Meditating is probably one of the most irritating thing that people suggest when you say you are stress, but it really has the potential to help alongside professional help. The point of meditation is to work on controlling your state of mind. It is also a wonderful way to reach a solution to a particular problem that has been stressing you out.

Cleanse your working and living area. Chances are, your stress has caused the area to be saturated with negative energy. The more you stress, the more negative energy seeps from you, which causes more stress, becoming a vicious cycle.

Ever heard of Fung Shui? It is defined as a system of laws considered to govern spatial arrangement and orientation in relation to the flow of energy (qi), and whose favorable or unfavorable effects are taken into account when siting and designing buildings. Basically, it means that the way you organize your furniture has an impact on how energy flows around you.

Have any personal favorites for how you incorporate your craft into your adult life? Share them in the comments below!

*The Solar Scholars of Magick are not comparing the attitudes of people towards witches to those attitudes towards religious and ethnic minorites.

If you liked this article, please consider supporting us by visiting our website, here!

[solarianvoidthearoace]

Excerpt#3 of JuPeter Vampire!AU

CN/TW: friendly insults/mocking, discussion of past brawl, misunderstanding of said friendly insults/threats, brief implication of Juno being a trophy wife, friendly challenging

“So you are the lady that occupied the best thief in the entire region for over two months now”, she rested her elbows atop the counter, leaning in to scrutinize Juno. After a while she nodded in apparent approval,

“Alright, come right around Pete, the family’s waiting in the back room.” Straightening back up to her full height, she made her way to said door behind the bar counter. Curious and a bit intimidated, Juno followed by Nureyev’s hand. The back room was surprisingly better lit than the main room of the tavern, a small round table dead center, with three people waiting for them.

“Thief! Long time no see, what brought your mug back in here this time?”, a woman with green hair greeted. It was the fond kind of depreciation that carried in her raspy voice.

“As you can see, I brought lovely company I felt the need to introduce to you. Though I apparently was wrong about all of us being criminal socialites, as he doesn’t recall having heard of the Captain”, Nureyev sat down first, in a room where everyone except for him and Juno seemed to be armed purely by habit. Okay, Juno didn’t know wether Nureyev wasn’t armed, it was a habit he shared, after all, but he at least left his revolver in the mansion.

“Told you not to call me Captain, Pete, I never was your captain and haven’t carried that title in years”, the bar owner sat down next, without leaving a chair empty between her and Nureyev.

“I suppose introductions will be in order then, since Ransom’s companion does not seem to have been told about us beforehand”, the remaining person, a giant of a man, joined them at the table, leaving one chair to the Captain’s left and another one between him and Nureyev.

Juno looked cautiously around the table, his eyes locking on that green-haired woman for a bit, before he took his seat next to Nureyev.

“Doctor, would you kindly join us? I remember you being the one to establish the rule that everyone has to sit if one person sits down first. Wasn’t it about fairness in case a fight breaks loose?”, he waved at the remaining chair.

The doctor scoffed,

“And who’s fault is it we needed that damn rule, eh, Ransom? You’re lucky we work well together and my wife likes you”, she slumped into the seat, crossing her arms.

“So, introductions. I think I should disclose something first”, the Captain smirked a bit,

“I know who you brought along, Pete. One Juno Steel, vampire hunter and detective. I had Jet look into him back when he wasn’t yet agreeing with himself whether to ever leave Hyperion. So, Juno, darling, you seem to be the only one at a disadvantage of knowledge here”, the Captain leaned back.

Nureyev rolled his eyes, sighed and smoothed out his waistcoat before turning to Juno,

“Apparently the honors are mine to introduce what I already told you is this town’s ragtag gangle of criminal legends. This red-haired lady here is Captain Buddy Aurinko”, the Captain’s glare at the title didn’t go unnoticed,

“And next to her is her prickly but highly competent wife, Doctor Vespa Ilkay. And last but not least, Mister Jet Siquliak. As to what our areas of expertise are -“ Juno’s raised hand interrupted him.

“The Captain Aurinko you have been talking about like an old friend for months is Buddy Aurinko? The Buddy Aurinko?! And Vespa Ilkay, as in, the Vespa, infamous assassin and other half of legendary criminal duo Buddy and Vespa. You are on first-name-base with the legendary Vespa and Buddy and you didn’t feel the need to tell me?!” The room fell silent at that.

It was Buddy who spoke first,

“So you have heard of us, darling, that’s good to know.” Juno rubbed at his temple,

“Of course I have heard of you! Sure, I worked as a monster hunter, not exactly a career where pirates and thieves concerned me, but obviously I have heard of you. I mean, who hasn’t? Your desertion from the naval fleet was before I even picked up my first gun but, wow, yea, definitely a criminal legend!”, he turned to Vespa next,

“And you’re basically legendary for revolutionizing field medicine, pretty much every monster hunter in business fell back onto your methods to make it out at one point. And yea, I have heard about some of the kills you managed, holy hell, some of that still sounds impossible to me.” When he finished, Juno noticed the others’ expectant look on him and blinked.

“Ah, so I take it you haven’t heard of Jet, darling”, Buddy took over, leaning onto the table and looking at Juno, who shook his head.

“Jet here used to be someone”, she seemed to be searching for a word,

“Dangerous. There are several novels based around what he was up to in his youth but to us the past is past and all you need to know is that he’s a very capable thief and burglar.”

“So, ageless thief”, Vespa spoke up,

“Why did you bring your lady here? If he’s with you it can’t be that he’s desperate to get a job.” Nureyev grinned at that, a hint of danger in the way he showed his teeth,

“If what my grandfather Peter Nureyev accumulated in wealth can sustain me easily enough, why shouldn’t my lady love profit from that as well?” Juno had to suppress a shudder at how easily Nureyev lied about his true name. Also it didn’t sit right with him that Nureyev put up the facade of a rich kid born into wealth. Juno knew better, after all.

Because the memories he had seen of Nureyev were before he even reached adulthood and therefor probably one and a half decades before he was turned. It hadn’t been pretty, Nureyev had grown up as poor as can be, barely scraping by before being taken in by -

“Juno?”, Nureyev gave him a quizzical look.

“I’m sorry, I got hung up on a thought. What did I miss?”

“Pete just mentioned you would like to get back into shooting”, Buddy gave him yet another scrutinizing look,

“I heard you were brilliant with a revolver and I’m sure we might just be able to get you back on track towards former glory. I would be your training partner, coaching you through getting confident with a gun again.” At that she brushed back her hair, uncovering half her face and the eyepatch that had lain hidden behind the red curls. Juno didn’t miss a beat,

“That’s such a great offer, thank you.” Vespa snorted,

“If you happen to really become half-decent again, we might be able to get you even more of a way to kill time. Getting you out of that ratty old mansion and back out into the world. Might even earn enough to gain independence from that cocky, posh rich kid.” Peter simply rolled his eyes at that, probably used to insults regarding his supposedly inherited wealth in context of his career choice.

Juno on the other hand couldn’t help but growl,

“I’m staying with him because I want to. Because of him, actually. I would probably be three towns over by now if we hadn’t run into each other in this very tavern. Unexpected reunion? Sure. But you can stick what you’re implying there right up your -“, Peter clearing his throat interrupted him.

“Juno, dear, thank you very much for defending both our honor but rest assured, Doctor Ilkay was just bantering”, he gave Vespa a side-eye and his tone changed,

“Probably even trying to look into your intentions with me. A protective sentiment, as unnecessary as it may be.”

“But -!”, this time Vespa’s snort and cackling broke him off before he could get on with it.

“Loosen your tighty whities, Steel. You know why you couldn’t place it if Ransom even mentioned me by the name of Doctor Ilkay? Is because it’s recent”, she shrugged, leaning forward in her chair and onto the table,

“I would’ve to be real stupid to get up in arms against the man who financed me finishing my medical degree. Also from what I heard his grand-daddy Peter Nureyev was from a similar shithole to the one that spat me out, tried changing the system back there, became a folk hero and ended up here, somehow.”

Vespa shook her head, as if trying to make sense of that, before she gave a one-armed shrug and gesture by way of what have you,

“And yea, I called Ransom a cocky arse, because he is, but somehow it’s almost as if he remembers his old man’s roots. Posh rich kid, sure, but somehow with those ideals and morals the old Nureyev had. Not that I ever met the man, though Buddy and I sure are old enough that we should’ve ran into him at least once.” From Juno’s point of view there was a whole lot to unpack in just those last sentences. He felt like he needed to ask Nureyev how the hell that even worked out if Buddy was the one supplying him with literally bottled blood.

But for now, Juno somehow felt really welcome between these people he had only heard of before today. And that reminded him,

“I came to town with my research expert and best friend, Rita -“, Jet cut him off this time.

“Yes, Miss Rita has been introduced to us. We offered her to stay at the rooms in the back of this building, living along with us. Captain Buddy already gave her something to work on which is why she is not with us to greet you.” Surprised as he was, Juno made a noise of acknowledgment.

“Darling, if the Registry does get back to her, you’ll be the next person to know of it. As you might have noticed, word travels fast in small towns and even faster in this one with an established criminal network.” At Buddy’s words, Nureyev smirked and rested his chin on his palm,

“The wondrous ways of the Cerberus Province, isn’t it lovely to be a criminal socialite?” His teeth and his glasses glinted sharply in the light of the room, Vespa snorted, Buddy sighed and Juno felt that maybe this was some sort of family to Nureyev. A family that he had been anxious about for Juno to meet them.

A family, as it turned out, that was all too happy about it’s newest two members. Juno and Buddy made a habit and a statement of meeting twice a week for their firearm training. Rita and Jet became rather inseparable, at least Juno couldn’t remember the last time he had seen one without the other around the Lighthouse. Even Vespa warmed up to the occupational monster hunter, in her rough way of showing it.

“Peter is treating you well, isn’t he, darling?”, Buddy casually started between rounds of shooting. Juno raised a brow, for someone who he had barely met two months ago, she was rather motherly towards him in particular.

“He’s taking good care of me, yea”, Juno couldn’t help his smile if he had wanted to,

“To think he had offered me this life a year ago already, it’s a dizzying thought. But I also think I’m fine with how things went.” Buddy gave him a once-over, looking for something apparently. Whether or not she found it, or even what it was, he couldn’t tell when she spoke again.

“You have made yourself quite the powerful friend, darling. I hope you know as much besides your obvious appreciation for the rest of all that he is”, she leaned back on her stool, relaxing against the table behind her.

“The way I see it, it’s powerful friends. Plural. I never would have thought to even get to meet you and Vespa and now see where I’m standing”, Juno shrugged,

“I’m happy and appreciative to have met all of you. Rita was the only family I have known for so long and now I get to have -”, he had to take a breath, wiping at his eye and resting those fingers against his temple,

“I finally have a family again.” From the warm smile Buddy directed at him, she knew that very sentiment, having carved out her own corner of the world, planted her feet and declared it the Buddy Aurinko Crime Family.

“Ransom should be on his way back by now, what do you say we wrap this up for today?”, she stood, walking past him to the target area of what they had gradually made into a decent shooting range.

“Of course after you hit this”, she held up a playing card for him to see, before taking one of her hairpins and fixing it to the target they had been using. Juno saw her counting the steps on her way back, while he slowed his breath and readied his revolver.

“A two-and-a-half by three-and-a-half inch playing card. To be hit from a 32 feet distance”, she held up the rest of the deck,

“I’m not gonna be picky, darling, I just want you to hit it at all. Afterwards you can go, run off to that dear lover of yours returning home”, if her voice was more teasing than usual, so be it.

“Come on, don’t be shy. Two days ago you managed to hit the target at 25 meters distance dead center. A lady who can celebrate is a lady who can get a shot in on a playing card”, with that Buddy went back to the table, taking her seat. Juno huffed, a snarky reply on the tip of his tongue. It wasn’t as if she had invited him on a drink for that bull’s eye or anything, was it now?

[emperorsfoot]

abandoned Star Wars fic #1

This was an AU I started a while back (2014) based off the pre-Disney Buyout version of the Expanded universe. It’s basically just “what if Luke did join the Empire like he was discussing with Owen and Beru back in A New Hope?”

My original plan was for the fic to be a trilogy, following the same main events of the original trilogy. I abandoned it because I got discouraged (for the same reason I always get discouraged when writing fic for a fandom that’s been around since the dawn of time), because the Star Wars fandom is so big and there are so many amazingly talented writers in it that this AU has probably already been written, and probably written better than I could ever write it. 

So, I never even posted it. 

Until now... 

(Oh! Also, it was gonna be a Luke/Mara ship. All my Star Wars fics are Luke/Mara.)

...

[ImpPilot]

Chapter One:

"I'd like three quarters of my pay to go to this account, please. If I can do that." Luke asked. 

Even heading strait to the Fleet's financial office immediately after his graduation ceremony instead of going out to celebrate with his bunkmates, it still took an absurd two and a half hours before he could see an actual officer -nothing more than a glorified accountant, really. 

"You'll meed to fill out form 6-23-A." Without even looking up from his personal terminal, the financial officer passed Luke a data pad with the blank form already open on it. "You're not the first boy wanting to send money home to his silver-haired mommy. Be sure all the routing numbers are correct and specify whether or not its a savings or checking account, or if its a business account. For business accounts you'll need to fill out an additional form."

"Uh… I think its a domestic checking account…" Luke said. More thinking out loud than actually speaking to the officer. The moisture farm was, technically, a business, but he didn’t think Tattooine was sophisticated enough for business accounts. At least, not reputable ones. 

"There's a terminal in the lobby you can use if you need to call home and ask. Regular holo-net fees apply -which this office will not compensate you for." Once again, the financial officer did not look up from his desk. 

Right. As if Uncle Owen would even answer. Neither he nor Aunt Beru had answered any of his calls since he left home and signed up with the Fleet. 

But they just didn't understand. Luke couldn't spend his life in the day to day routine of moisture farming, watching the rest of the Galaxy turn around him. He wanted to get out and get away. See the world beyond the backwater dust-ball of his childhood and explore brave new worlds in his adulthood. But the Lars hadn't have much money and it wasn't like Luke's late parents (of which very little was spoken of) had seen fit to leave either him or his guardians any money or property of value, there were little avenues or opportunities open to him to get off world. In fact, there were only two possible ways for a poor desert brat like him to get off world. 

Join up with a pirate or smugglers crew. Or sign up with the Imperial Space Navy. 

So, Luke chose the lesser to two evils. 

He signed up for the navy.

At least it was legal. 

He went out early the morning of his sixteenth birthday after his mind was made up. Sneaking out of the farm house and into the garage, Luke intended to take the speeder into Anchorhead. Owen was waiting for him in the garage. Intent to stop him. Apparently, his sneaking wasn't too stealthy. 

He gave a speech about the stupidity of what he was about to do. That it was foolish and he was just fixing to get himself killed. That he was just like his father -he was a damn fool too!- and that he would just end up hurting everyone else who cared about him. Luke ignored everything his uncle had to say though. His mind was made up and there was nothing Uncle Owen could do to stop him. 

Aunt Beru was a bit gentler with him, but still just as disapproving. She met him outside the garage, as he was trying to maneuver the speeder around the complex. She brought him a sandwich lovingly wrapped, as if he were just going out to do maintenance on the vaporators. She asked Luke not to think poorly of his Uncle, he was just trying to protect him. There was a war on and the reason why the Fleet was so eager to lock new recruits into contracts was because they needed more and more bodied every day. That's all he would be to the Navy, just another body to throw into the war. 

That time Luke did pause. He placed his hand over hers, resting on the side of the speeder. He assured her that this was something he had to do and that he wouldn't die the death of a nameless soldier. He couldn't explain how or why, but he could feel it. This was something he had to do, and he would not become just another body counted in the war. He would be something. 

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say, because a shadow of fear crossed her face. But it was there and gone in the space of a second. She turned her hand, resting under his and grabbed his wrist, stronger than he thought she was capable of. "Don't… don't use the name Skywalker." She said suddenly. "Its a common name out here on the Rim, but it's a dangerous name to have closer to the Empire. Don't enlist under Skywalker. Use our name. Use Lars."

Luke blinked at her. "Why?"

But she didn't answer and he was in to much of a hurry to wait and pester her. 

That was the last he ever heard from either of them. Neither his aunt or uncle either called him or returned any of his calls during his time at the Academy. There was no reason to assume they would answer the comm for him now. In fact, Luke wasn't even sure if they would take his money now that he would actually be earning some. But they had raised him. And the farm wasn't easy or cheap to maintain. Maybe with the extra money, his uncle could hire a few more hands to help them out. 

Luke just filled out the form the best that he could and handed it back to financial officer. 

"Alright, Lars, your request should be processed in another eight to ten standard days. Everything should be in order by the time for first earning statement is payed." He said looking over the datapad. "Oh, and you forgot to fill out your pilot designation."

"Oh. Right, sorry. Its DS-42-6."

The officer began typing as Luke spoke, filling in the missing information on mental auto-pilot. "D… S… -Wait? DS? Death Star? They assigned a green kid like you to the Death Star!?" He gaped up at the kid, actually looking at him for the first time. 

"Top pilot in my graduating class." Luke said, not at all ashamed of the pride that seeped into his voice. Being the top flight student was a significant achievement and not even Uncle Owen could deny that. "I guess they wanna deploy their best people on the most important postings."

"What was that number again?"

"Squad forty-two, pilot number six." He answered. 

"Well, Luke Lars, I imagine you going far.

…

Most of Luke's bunkmates went out to celebrate their graduation almost immediately after the ceremonies. That meant that they all had a few hours head start on him and would probably be to faded to be good company when he did arrive. But that still didn't stop Luke from stopping in at the tapcaf they agreed on for their after grad party. 

As to be expected, of the twelve men Luke had shared a barracks with for the past two years, only three of them remained when he walked through the door. One of them was just paying his tab, a woman Luke had never seen before under one arm.

"I'm telling ya, baby, I ship out tonight." He was saying to her. "Oh, hey Lars, ya made it! A bit late. Maybe you can scoop Vard and Ika up off the floor."

He left. 

Vard and Ika were leaning over a table against the back wall. With a sigh, Luke crossed the tapcaff to assess them. Of the twelve bunkmates that Luke actually got along with, Ika was probably the closest one he would come to calling a 'best friend'. They weren't nearly as close as Luke had been with Biggs, but then, Biggs had to go off and desert on his first tour and place Luke in an uncomfortable situation with ISB right at the start of his second year at the Academy. Some great friend he turned out to be. 

But Luke wasn't gonna think about that now. This was the eve of his graduation from the Imperial Naval Academy. This was a happy day. Even if he was about to spend it taking care of his two drunk bunkmates that -in all likelihood- he would never see again. With a conscious effort, Luke pushed Biggs from his mind. 

Ika seemed to be past out on the table. A disposable coaster his only cushion against the hard plasteel and vinyl of the tabletop. Vard was at least sitting mostly vertical, but by the looks of it no less drunk. He used one hand to prop his face up while the other shot into the air in an unnecessarily showy greeting. He flailed spastically. "Hey! Look who made it!"

"A bit late, I think." Luke said as he slid into the booth next to Ika. 

"Nah. I's cool. We'll just get a new bottle." He flagged down a serving droid. "Another round for me and my buddies. And make the late arrivals a double -to make up for lost time."

"Belay that." He said to the droid. Luke just shook his head. He was in no mood to get drunk tonight. The fact that he was to report for transport and deployment absurdly in the morning or risk missing the boat aside, he just had a feeling it was in his best interest not to get completely sloshed. "We'll have a round of caff instead. And make their's a double." 

Vard scoff. "Ya know, Lars, for a guy who never had a daddy growing up, you act an awful lot like my father." With no small amount of effort, he pushed himself to his feet and jerkily maneuvered out of the booth. "Forget this. I'm going to finish cleaning out my bunk."

Staggering mildly, he made his way to the door, where he flagged down a transport. Well, at least he would be safe taxieing back to base.

Luke turned to look at Ika. He should probably call a transport for him too. 

Standing, Luke crossed to the public holo-net, passing a very pretty red-head on his way and he lamented the fact that he had to take care of his drunkard friend. She probably wouldn't want to stay and chat with someone who associated with rowdy or irresponsible soldiers like them. Suppressing a sigh, he dialed the public transport company's number that had been very boldly posted over the terminal's key-pad and ordered a taxi to take Ika (and probably him too) back to base. 

It didn't take long for the transport to arrive and when it did, Luke helped the driver carry his passed-out friend into the back seat. But Luke didn't feel much like going along. He had come to this tapcaff expecting a party -it was the eve of his graduation, after all- he felt he was entitled to at least some form of celebration. Luke payed the transport driver and went back into the tapcaff.

It was only after he sat back down at their table that the serving droid appeared with their three cups of caff. 

Luke's face fell into the palm of his hand.

The pretty red-head by the holo-net terminal gave an amused laugh. 

Luke looked back at her and their eyes met over the empty tapcaff. Her eyes were brilliant, and deep, and very very green. The bottom dropped out of his stomach as he felt a wonderful and glittering feeling of exhilaration at the fact that a pretty girl was looking at him with a smile. That glittering feeling was quickly scrubbed away, however, when Luke remembered that he had no idea how to talk to girls. 

Back home, he'd hung out with Fixer's girlfriend. But that was always in a group setting and besides, she was already in a relationship with someone. There were a few female cadets at the Academy. But you didn't talk to them like girls unless you wanted to get punched in the dick. Luke really didn't wanna get punched in the dick by the pretty red-head.

Perhaps he hesitated a little to long after their eyes met because the red-head picked up her own drink and crossed the room to sit at his booth. "You gonna drink all those, Cadet?"

Oh, crap. The pretty girl was talking to him. What should he say? Should he make a joke? Or play it strait? Did girls like funny men, or strait forward men? Well, whatever he said, he better say something soon. Luke suddenly realized that his silence was stretching on into awkward territory. "Uh, uh… I, uh… Its 'Pilot'."

"What?" She blinked at him with those deep, sparkling, emerald green eyes. 

"I'm not a Cadet anymore." I explained quickly, his ears coloring self-consciously. "I graduated today. Now I'm a Pilot."

"Oh. I see. A pilot." She gave one of those smiles people give when they're humoring a small child and Luke suddenly felt like he had already messed up with this girl. The flushing of his ears spread to his cheeks. She must have noticed the blush (then again, how could she not?), because she took pity on him. "You're not very good at this, are you?"

Luke blinked. "Uh, not good at what?"

"Flirting." She said as if this should have been obvious. "Chatting up women. Attempting to entice them to leave with you. Shore leave doesn't last forever and you can't afford to waste time. I assume you're shipping out tomorrow?"

"Y-yes." He nodded. 

"So you've got, what, maybe seven hours before you have to report to your transport."

"Well, yes, actually." Luke had to pause. She knew an awful lot about military logistics. But then again, this was an Academy town. The locals must be used to young soldier-boys coming and going and trying to pick up their young women in between. 

"Well, Pilot, I've got even less time than that." She informed him, running a finger over the rim of one of the untouched caff mugs. "Ya see, I just came here for a quick job and now that the jobs done, I've only got a couple hours before I have to be lifting off and flying out."

"Oh, do you work for a shipping company?" Luke asked. Work was a polite subject to discuss, right?

She just shook her head, her red hair cascading round her shoulders in elegant waves. "No, no, you're getting this all wrong." She said. "Listen, Pilot, I have to ship out soon, you have to ship out soon. You're cute. I'm hot. And we're both lonely. You can't take me back to your barracks, and I won't take you to my ship. So, I was thinking of maybe one of those pay-by-the-hour places down the street from the port. We share a couple hours together, then go our separate ways. I don't tell you my name, you don't tell me your pilot designation."

Luke just blinked at her. It… it sounded like she was trying to proposition him. The blush on his face colored to almost scarlet. Oh, the things Aunt Beru would have to say if she heard this. "I… I'm sorry, Ma'am, but I don't do that sort of thing. I, uh, I wasn't brought up that way. But… if you like, I'll treat you to dinner."

With a sigh, the woman leaned back in her seat. "I don't suppose I've got the time to hunt down a better deal. Alright, Pilot, a chase little dinner date it'll be."

Finally feeling balanced for the first time since she sat down, Luke flagged down the serving droid. "Two menus, please."

She learned forward, resting her chin in her hand. "Well, Pilot, you're the first man to ever refuse my offer. So, either you're a perfect gentleman -which thought were just creatures of pure myth- or else I'm not your type of company." 

"Oh, I know I'm not a perfect gentleman." Luke assured her. He was idealistic and given over to fantasies and delusions of grandeur. Definitely not perfect. "But my aunt did raise me to be respectful."

"Good aunt." She took a sip of one of the abandoned cups of caff. 

"So…" Luke began awkwardly. "If you don't tell me your name, and I'm not allowed to tell you my pilot designation… what are we gonna talk about?"

"Good question." She nodded, tapping her bottom lip in thought. "What made you decide to become a pilot?"

"I was a little short for a Stormtrooper." He joked. "But actually, I always wanted to be a pilot. My father was a navigator on a spice freighter and a navigator is basically a co-pilot."

...

AND THAT’S ALL SHE WROTE!

That was Mara Jade sitting with him at the tap caff, BTW. Luke wasn’t gonna see her again until after the destruction of the Death Star. 

Vader was gonna “sense a ripple in the Force” once Luke arrived on the Deathstar for his tour of duty. But he wasn’t actually going to take note of Luke specifically until Obi-Wan, Han, and... BIGGS DARKLIGHTER break onto the Deathstar to rescue Leia. 

In this AU, Biggs lives. He’s the one who makes the shot that destroys the Deathstar.

Luke and Vader are the only survivors. 

After their fighters (Vader’s TIE Advanced, and Luke’s shitty regular live-1 TIE fighter) are picked up by another Imperial ship, Vader confronts Luke face-to-mask.

Luke’s all like “I wanted to be a pilot because of my father.”

To which Vader replies “Owen Lars has never been, nor will he ever be, a pilot.” (Remember: Luke enlisted under the name “Lars”.)

Luke should be confused by Vader knowing so much about his uncle, but Luke’s also kinda dumb. So he just assumed Vader read his personnel file. He get’s all self-conscious and confesses to enlisting under a different name. Owen Lars is actually his uncle, not his father. His father’s name was Skywalker. 

Vader doesn’t visibly react, but behind his mask he’s just like, “OH SHIT!”

And that’s where the “A New Hope” volume of this AU was gonna end. 

[somnolent-snufkin]

Party Games

Requested by: @jaybug-jimmies

It was Sniff's 19th Birthday. Despite all of his friends saying it wasn't the greatest idea, he insisted that he have a birthday party. He invited Moomintroll, Snufkin, Snorkmaiden, and Little My. Now, to a group of ten year olds, birthday parties are fun. Even if it's not yours. Especially the ones where it took place somewhere entertaining and interesting. But to a bunch of twenty year olds, the most fun you'd get out of a kiddy party like this one would be the cake.

Sniff's party was childish in the worst way possible. He had the silliest decorations, no drinks other than strawberry juice, and music playing that his friends hadn't heard since they were twelve. Everything felt very immature and down right boring.

Snorkmaiden and Little My were in one corner of the room, giggling about something. While in the other, Snufkin and Moomintroll sat chatting about the flowers outside. Sniff had walked outside for a moment, leading everyone to consider whether or not they should take this moment to leave. But Sniff walked back inside before anyone could move.

"Hey everyone!" Sniff smiled, blissfully unaware of how bored everyone was. "I was going to ask if anyone wanted to play a party game together, but I lost the deck of cards. So.. sorr-"

"You know, we could use a bottle and play spin the bottle." Snorkmaiden interrupted.

"But I don't ha-" Sniff was interrupted by Little My this time, who had run to the center of the decorated room with a bottle in hand.

"Yeah! Let's play spin the bottle!" My grinned. "Finally, something amusing to do!" Sniff shrugged and nodded.

"Ok let's play this."

Everyone sat in a circle in the middle of the room, bottle in the very center of them. The five all seemed actually interested in participating in whatever this was.

"Snorkmaiden, how do you play?" Moomintroll asked. "Is it like Duck Duck Goose? Because if it is, I'm not playing. I'm not a child anymore."

"Oh no, it's definitely not like that at all." Snorkmaiden chuckled. "Basically, we all take turns spinning the bottle. The person who spins it has to kiss whoever the neck of the bottle is pointing at." Little My held in her cackling as Moomintroll and Snufkin both turned bright red.

"N-No! That's really stupid. I-I don't really want to play this game." Moomintroll spat out. Little My rolled her eyes.

"Oh for the love of Jansson- Do you really think we have any other games to play?" The short mymble groaned. Moomintroll nodded.

"Yeah, you have a point. I'll play." Moomin responded. Snufkin simply nodded in agreement.

Snorkmaiden was the first person to spin. She pressed it with her paw, watching closely at where it stopped. It made a full circle, then it slowed down, finally stopping at Moomintroll.

"Well, I've done this before." The snork chuckled. She pressed her snout against Moomin's and both had a dull reaction.

"Well that was rather boring. My turn!" Little My spun the bottle a bit more roughly. It spun rapidly, before slowing down, and landing on Snufkin.

"Nope. We have the same mother. Sorry, this one won't be happening." Little My crossed her arms. Her brother just sighed and nodded.

"Wait, you two are siblings? I never knew that.." Sniff mumbled. "Odd."

Sniff's turn was next, although all he got was the bottle pointing at himself. So he just kissed his hand and slapped his own forehead.

"It's your turn, Snufkin." Snorkmaiden held back a giggle. She and My wondered how this was going to end.

"Oh, ok." The mumrik paused for a moment before spinning the bottle. Because he was so unnecessarily worried, he didn't exactly push it very much. So, the bottle spun around fairly slowly. It kept moving around, slowly getting slower, until it eventually stopped. The bottle was pointing at Moomintroll of all people.

'How convenient' Thought Snorkmaiden and Little My.

Snufkin decided to simply get this silly little game over with, and swiftly landed a mumrik kiss on Moomintroll's lips. Which left the Moomin completely confused. Little My couldn't hold back her cackling and let it all out, laughing hysterically. The mumrik became even more flustered, hiding his beet red face under his green hat.

"W-What's so funny?" Moomintroll raised an eyebrow.

"What's funny is the fact that you don't what he just did!" My answered, still wheezing. Then it clicked in Snorkmaiden's mind. She started laughing as well. Sniff, being socially awkward and completely unaware of social cues, started laughing even though he has no idea what's going on.

Moomintroll connected the dots in his head. If Moomin kisses are two snouts booping eachother, then mumrik kisses are two lips pressed against eachother. He blushed about as deep as Snufkin did.

"I-I'm going to need a second outside. I'll be back." Snufkin stood up and walked outside. Moomin noticed his tail was droopy. Something was off.

The girls laughing fit calmed down and Snufkin still hadn't come back inside. Moomintroll decided to go check on him. He opened the door, poking his head out to see if the mumrik was there or not. He was.

"Snufkin?" Moomintroll stepped outside, closing the door behind him. "Are you ok? You seemed pretty upset earlier."

"Hmm?" Snufkin glanced at his friend. "Yes, I'm ok. Just.. feeling emotions, ya know?" He was sitting near the front door, tail tapping against the floor next to him. Moomintroll chuckled softly, sitting next to his friend, but still giving him space.

"I just.. ughh.." Snufkin covered his face with his hands and grumbled. ".. I feel all sorts of things right now. It's difficult."

"Ah, welcome to adulthood. It's quite possibly the worst part of life. You feel angry, sad, flustered, miserable, happy but it's all brought up to a ten instead of a one." Moomintroll sighed and looked at Snufkin. He seemed really stressed out. Who wouldn't be when all your life you felt in control over everything you feel and suddenly one year you lose all of that control.

"Is it.. normal?" Snufkin asked, looking up at his friend.

"Of course! It's just a part of life." Moomintroll tried to sound as reassuring as possible. "I mean, I feel emotional all the time too. So does Snorkmaiden, and Little My.. I'm not so sure about Sniff though." Snufkin's eyes seemed to lit up for a moment.

"So it's normal to feel aroused by kissing your best friend?" Snufkin asked, a blush dusting across his face again. The mumrik's tail wagged rapidly. Moomintroll coughed and then looked away for a moment.

"Well, not exactly.. I-I mean.. uhh.. well..?" Moomintroll's nervous expression combined with the embarrassment they both felt made the whole situation worse in a sense.

"You know what.. I'll go ahead and say this now." Moomintroll closed his eyes. "I kind of liked it too?"

"S-So we're both feeling uneasy, embarrassed, and possibly aroused by this?" Snufkin said. Then he started to chuckle. He laughed even. Moomin hadn't heard his friend laugh this much in a long time.

They both were laughing at their situation.

"Ehh.. emotions can go get bitten by fish." Snufkin sighed after a while.

"I agree." Moomintroll nodded. And, out of nowhere, Snufkin kissed Moomintroll on the forehead before standing up and walking away- most likely to his tent.

Maybe this wasn't as boring of a night as he thought.

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Daydreaming About Dandelions

Word Count: 3,343

Pairing: Hoseok and Reader

Genre/Rating: Daycare AU - Fluff - PG13

A/N: Also, this was heavily influenced by D.O’s song, That’s Okay and is the song being played at the end.

Warning: Fluff that is the level of tooth rotting and makes you want to squeal into a pillow.

Requested

Master List

Drabble Challenge Prompt #40: “The kids, they ambushed me.”

©thatmultifandomhoe 2019. Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

Working at a daycare meant that your days were never less than interesting. Specifically, with the little kids. The daycare you worked at had a range of kids from a year old all the way up to twelve, but you primarily worked to help care for the kids ranging from ages five to eight.

Most of your nights were spent coming up with activities that the children would enjoy, preferably for long periods of time until their guardians picked them up, but that wasn’t always the case. Over the years, you learned that if paint and food were involved, it was a guaranteed good time.

You smiled and waved as the last child was picked up, promising to see her again tomorrow after she got out of school. When the door was shut, you groaned, stretching your arms over your head for some relief. As much as you loved your job, you also loved the end of the day when it was quiet, allowing you to relax, play your favorite music, and clean the classroom you were provided with for the next day.

Walking over to your desk, you perched yourself on the edge as you scrolled through your phone, swiping away notifications that didn’t interest you and seeing what you missed in the world.

“Excuse me, Miss?”

You quickly looked up to see a man standing at your door, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion but his brown eyes light with happiness.

“Hi,” you greeted, making your way over to him. Maybe he was a parent? He looked about your age, so maybe he was an older sibling and was lost. “How can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m Hoseok, the new hire. Mrs. Cora said that we’d be working together until I was able to get my own classroom.”

You blinked in confusion; head slightly tilted to the side as he explained. Mentally, you tried to rack your brain for any mention of a new hire, or even that you’d be sharing your kids and classroom with him, but nothing came to mind.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smile. “She said that an email had been sent this morning,” he added, hoping that it would be of some help.

“Um, let me check.” You quickly said, providing him with your name as embarrassment flooded you, quickly pulling up the emails on your phone. “I’m so sorry, with the kids it’s easy to forget things unless I write them down.”

He chuckled, but nodded in understanding. As you searched, he took the chance to look around the classroom you had. There were two rectangle tables in the room with small chairs, multiple bookcases that were painted soft yellows, greens and blues were against the walls with not only books, but serving as storage areas with wicker baskets as containers for toys and crafts that were at the moment, not so neatly organized. Not that he judged, seeing how he had passed by a little girl and her mother who had come from your classroom, he figured your day had only recently ended.

Near to the door were locker style cubbies, kids’ names were carefully written out with doodles on different colored laminated construction paper were stuck on each individual locker. From that he gathered you had a total of ten kids under your care and supervision.

“Ah ha,” you softly spoke, capturing his attention as you tapped the screen of your phone. “Mrs. Cora was right, there was an email sent out.”

It had been sent during the afternoon and remained unopened, which was why you didn’t remember it. Earlier you had taken the kids out to the playground and showed them how paint with chalk, so your emails had gone unread.

Briefly scanning it, you gathered that Hoseok would be working with you until the fall enrollment, that way he would not only have his own classroom, but because parents would be able to have the choice of meeting with and possibly choosing him to watch over the children.

“It says that you’d be working with the older kids?” You asked, exiting out of the app.

He nodded, running a hand through his black hair revealing his forehead. “Yeah, I used to teach dance and through that, had an easy time connecting with that age group.”

You smiled, leading him further into your classroom. “Ah, well you’re going to have an interesting time. Most of my kids are five through seven. I have one eight-year-old this year, so she’s a little more independent than the others, but it can still get wild in here.” Grabbing a basket with label glue sticks neatly written on it, you began to pick up the classroom. “There’s not much to do right now besides cleaning up, so you can head out if you want to.”

But Hoseok shook his head, joining in as he gathered up the scrap paper from this morning. “Two makes cleaning go by faster,” he joked.

You raised an eyebrow at him, but shrugged. If he wanted to stay and clean, then fine by that. “Alright. The baskets are on the bookcases. Just put everything back in their places and then we can wash down the tables.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

For the next hour, it was comfortable as the two of you worked on cleaning up the classroom, sharing small talk in an attempt to get to know each other. On your desk sat you phone, softly playing music to keep the atmosphere from being awkward when the conversation stopped.

It had been a while since you last shared your classroom with another adult, and while you enjoyed the independence, it was nice to know that there was someone else to pass the time with. You loved your kids, truly you did, but there was something about being able to have a conversation with another adult that did wonders to your sanity.

“Alright,” you finally spoke. The room was cleaned and organized with nothing out of place, just the way you liked it. “I really appreciate the help Hoseok.”

“It’s no problem. We’re going to be working together from now on, it only makes sense to stay and help.”

You nodded in agreement, taking a moment to pull your hair up. His attitude had been upbeat and you found yourself relaxing around him. Walking to your desk, you crouched down to open the bottom drawer, taking out the bucket of smooth rocks that you had gone searching for last weekend. They fit comfortable in your palm, plenty big enough for the kids.

Setting the bucket on the middle of the table, you chewed your bottom lip as you thought, trying to decide on how you wanted to set this up. There was way more rocks then there were kids, so they could paint several if they wanted to do so.

Hoseok, who had been drying his hands with paper towel, raised an eyebrow at the bucket. “What are you gonna have them do with the rocks?” Stepping closer, he reached down and plucked on from the pile. It was smooth and grey, a solid weight in his palm that reminded him of the rocks he used to skip at the river when he was younger.

“Paint them.” You answered, getting out the mason jars you used to hold your paint brushes. “My kids are more on the quiet and artsy side, so I figured it’ll be fun for them to do.”

He watched as you moved around the classroom with ease, the skirt you were wearing flowing softly as it skimmed your ankles. It wasn’t for the first time since he entered your classroom that he noticed you kept calling them, your kids. With the other staff, they either said, the kids, students or their names, but you affectionately called them yours.

“How much did the stores sock you for them?” He asked, joining your side.

You handed him the paper plates and giant roll of paper towel as you held onto the basket of bottled paints. “Nothing. There’s a river near my house, so I went there and picked out a bunch.”

Hoseok hummed in surprise, placing a plate in front of every chair and setting the paper towel down at the end. When he glanced up, his eyes widened for a moment. The blinds on the windows were up, allowing the sunlight to enter and warm up the room. But as the sun began to set, the light softened and filtered around you, making you appear as if weren’t from this world.

“Well, that’s it for now,” you murmured, stepping back and out of the light to look around. “I can fill up the water jars for them in the morning. Besides that, we are free to go.” Turning to Hoseok, you smiled at him as you headed back towards your desk, gathering up your purse and shutting down the computer as well.

“Guess I’ll see you in the morning,” he stammered, shoving his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t sure what he saw – it had to be a coincidence that the sun happened to highlight your figure like that – because it would not be in good taste for him to fall for you on his first day on the job.

He didn’t stick around much longer, and you waved as he walked out of the classroom. When you were sure that he was gone, you shook your head, softly chuckling as you finished packing up your own belongings. He seemed like a good fit, and there was a youthful vibe that radiated from him. Not because he most likely was your age, but in a way that he knew how to have fun and hadn’t let adulthood ruin his dreams.

As you turned off the lights, you had a pretty good feeling that there wasn’t going to be a single dull moment tomorrow.

“Good afternoon Lori,” you greeted, leaning over to hug the small girl as she entered the classroom.

“Afternoon Miss,” she shyly spoke, her arms tightening around your leg before going back to her mother.

You heart cooed at her. Even though she had been coming to you for the last year, she was still a sweet shy little girl. There was already a handful of kids sitting at the table with Hoseok, who had opted for sitting cross legged on the floor at the corner of the table and was painting his own rock.

He graciously declined your offer of a chair – you didn’t realize that he was much taller than you until this morning – and sat with the kids. Every time a small hand tapped on his arm or called out his name, he stopped what he was doing to give the child his undivided attention, oohing and awing whenever they showed him their masterpieces, even if they had showed him five times already.

“Lori, would you like to meet Mr. Hoseok? He’s going to be staying with us until the fall.” You asked, crouching down to her height after she hung up her belongings in her cubbie, still holding onto her mother’s hand. She was only six, but it still took some effort to get her to let go.

Her mother, dressed in red scrubs had to get leaving, so you held your own hand out for Lori to take, smiling when she slowly switched hands with yours and nodded. With a grateful smile, her mom smiled at you and waved bye to her daughter, slipping back out the classroom as you led Lori over to Hoseok.

Having been keeping one ear to the kids and the other to you, Hoseok set his paintbrush down as you came over with the little girl. He cooed as she tried to hide behind your leg, but with your gentle touch you were able to coax her out.

“Hi there,” Hoseok greeted, finger waving so as to not scare her. “I’m Mr. Hoseok. What’s your name hun?”

She glanced around the table before focusing back on him. “Lori.”

His own smile widened, and it was then that you noticed that his lips naturally curled into the shape of a heart. “Well Miss. Lori, it’s very nice to meet you. Would you like to paint a rock?”

With a little more reassurance coming from you, Lori was quickly under the same spell as the other kids, listening to his every word as he explained what they were doing and pointing to the colors the she wanted to use.

You watched for a few moments until there was a tug on your arm, thinking to yourself how much of a natural he was with them, and quickly withdrew from the daydream as you focused on Christopher as he asked for help. It was then that Hoseok looked at you, his heart racing a little faster as he watched you interact with the kids.

It wasn’t a strange feeling, he knew what was happening, but it wouldn’t be appropriate to act on it. You were his coworker and if anything were to happen, he’d hate to lose someone like you. In this world, you were the dandelion determined to grow in a cracked sidewalk.

By the time you glanced in his direction, Hoseok was already helping Lori and Jessi, the eight-year-old that was on the other side of him, unaware of the soft smile you were wearing.

Hearing a knock on the classroom door, you stood up from where you were crouched over by Johnny and opened the door, smiling when you saw multiple parents waiting outside. “Hey guys, come on in and I’ll get the kids ready.”

One by one they came in, and like all curious kids, they couldn’t help but look up to see who had entered the room. Several excited mom’s, dad’s, and even a grandma, had them up out of their seats as they hurried to hug their loved ones.

It was after the happy greeting that you gathered their attention once more. “Before you guys go, just remember that your projects won’t be ready to go home tonight. They’re still wet so they’re gonna stay here and finish drying, but you can bring them home tomorrow. Why don’t you guys go show them what you made.”

Excitement filled the room as the group led the adults over to the counter by the window where their rocks were drying, their names written out in their own handwriting on the paper plates they had used.

Like you and Hoseok had been doing all afternoon, the adults all oohed over the child’s hard work while you waited by the door. You had made it a custom to give every one of your kids a hug goodbye as well as the promise to see them tomorrow.

What you hadn’t expected however, was for the small group of them to rush to Hoseok first, who had been taking the moment to stand and stretch his legs, surprising him when several hands wound their way around his limbs.

You stifled your laughter by covering your mouth, finding his shocked face adorable. He quickly recovered and hugged each child one by one, and after they received their hug they hurried over to where you were waiting for them.

“See you tomorrow Mr. Hoseok,” you heard Lori call out as she made her way over to the door, her hand in her grandmother’s this time.

“See you tomorrow Lori,” Hoseok promised.

His eyes were lit up with a happiness that couldn’t be contained as it slipped through with his giggles and smiles. It was like the children were feeding off the emotion that he radiated, unable to contain themselves as they spoke fast and giggled even faster.

When the last child had hugged the two of you and left with their guardian, both you and Hoseok sighed in relief, taking the moment to crash on to the floor with your backs against the cubbies.

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, letting your limbs relax before you needed to get back up and clean the classroom. Tomorrow was Friday which meant they were going to be extra hyper for the start of the weekend. You were too in a way, except your weekend was going to be spent catching up on chores, paying some bills, and curled in your bed with Netflix on you TV.

“The kids,” you heard Hoseok say, and opened your eyes to face him. “They ambushed me.”

You giggled with a nod. “They really like you. Are you sure you don’t want to work with the younger kids in the fall?” You teased, gently bumping his shoulder with yours.

He laughed, ruffling his hair as he sat up, drawing his right leg up to rest his elbow on his knee. “I don’t know how you do it every day.”

“Eh, it’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

“That’s because they love you. You treat them like their yours.” He raised an eyebrow, letting his gaze take you in before focusing on your eyes. This time you were wearing light colored capris and a sky-blue blouse with sandals, and he somehow managed to almost match you in his own tan colored pants and white dress shirt. It was a miracle that the shirt had been spared of getting paint on it.

Shrugging, you brushed your hair back behind your ear. “Well in way, they are for a few hours. You don’t realize it at first but sometimes, these few hours are the only time they get to be kids and have fun. They’re all precious and I love them, and they know that. Kids need love to grow, and they know that this is a safe place for them to be exactly what they are…kids.”

He hadn’t expected such a response from you, it stunned him speechless. But he shouldn’t be so surprised. With all the care and attentiveness, you put into the classroom and gave to them, it should have been obvious. Maybe there was something otherworldly about you after all.

“Well,” you sighed, focusing on the table. “I think it’s time that we cleaned up. The paintbrushes will dry up if we don’t wash the paint out.”

Standing, you held your hand out for Hoseok to take, smiling down at him. “Work isn’t over just yet.” You teased.

Hoseok slipped his hand in yours, allowing you to pull him up. “Yeah, but soon it’ll be the weekend,” he weakly added, hoping you hadn’t noticed the way his hand lingered in yours before pulling away.

As you pulled up a playlist on your phone, just like you had done last night, Hoseok checked his own for any messages and was relieved to see one from his friend Yoongi, asking if he wanted to come over for a drink. Glancing at you, he softly smiled as the room filled with the soft chords of an acoustic guitar and the soothing lullaby in a foreign language.

He thought back to when you said that you had gathered the rocks at the river near your place, suddenly picturing you stopping to take a break, enjoying the sounds of the river gurgling down stream and the singing of the birds. He wondered if there had been any dandelions nearby and if you saw them, would you leave it grow and thrive in the sun, or would you pluck it and hold it near your lips, gently blowing it as you made a wish, the soft breeze flying the seeds into the air with the a childlike hope that maybe it might come true.

A part of him wanted to stay up  tonight and make his own wish at 11:11 pm.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he looked back down at his phone and responded with a yes, tucking his phone away. If he was going to try and just be friends with you, he was going to need that drink with Yoongi tonight to keep his daydreams exactly that, simply daydreams.

[dyker-farmer]

Ok this was supposed to be a quick draw and a description to go with, that blew into a full chapter and now it's also on Ao3 SO happy reading ig idk

I never see Shane works that don't go all in for romance nor explore the more realistic ugly parts of recovery, and I kind of crave That TM. So let me have at it too with the self-insert whump mumbo jumbo; no romo version.

Set post-8 hearts event, Farmer Uidelsib is two years or so in, full house built and married to Emily. They/them pronouns, same as me.

Diverges from then on, Shane-centric from an outside POV for the most part.

[[MORE]]

Take that can away if you can.

Gulp it down. Chapter 1/2/3/4

There's a few to-know to survive life in society, in the valley; there's no good way to comment on the age nor weight of both resident housewives, you can't say no to Evelyn's homemade cookies- and why would you, you fool-, you do not fight at the Saloon or you'll get no cheese anymore on your pizza and only sparkling water for drinks, and-

And you don't mess with Shane's alcohol related ritual.

Except I did, that night, because you do that, when your two-years long friendship with the guy taught you better than letting his impulses overcome yours, when your buddy is trying to recover from teenage long-lasting into early adulthood, trauma-enhanced heavy addiction, and you know, you know tomorrow he'll feel like absolute shit and question his right to therapy the moment he'll stop his pounding skull from splitting. Wonders what a three-dosage paracetamol can do. 

At least he doesn't drink it out anymore.

So yeah, when you're in my shoes, you get that Joja store-bought crap out of Shane's hand, and you brace yourself for the incoming lash out.

The first fractions of seconds are always those to look closely into most. It's only a glimpse, but before the scowl slips on like a well-worn boxing glove ready to strike, there is always this open page I learned I needed to decipher as quick as I could.

Tonight, it's heartbreaking. When I peck his forehead- doting big sibling habits die hard, even when you're actually the youngest of the pair- the eyes I catch looking at me are so confused and bare of any emotion, except for the sorrow that goes beer-soaked tears, it pangs. I get used to the breakdowns, working in the fields I do when I'm off the farm's, but it's not the same when it's a friend.

When I straighten back, offensive beverage in hand, it's already gone in a flinch, away from the empty space behind the chair and onto the table, as he snarls.

"Wha- giv'me back- 's mine!" I don't know how much he drunk before he met up with me, but from the slurring, it's a Lot. A season and a half into sobriety. That's harsh.

I ignore him and walk behind him, pondering where to put the beer for now.

"Y-you can't just do that! It's my booze I got with m'money, not some- who d'you think you are?-" He sputters indignantly, angry tears fewer than the sad ones but still there. He tries to turn around and grab behind his back, but the wild movement is way off and only gets the chair to nearly topples down. I rush in time to stabilize it, and profit off the moment to set a strong hand on his shoulder.

"I can just do that, 'cus it's my house I got with my money, and I think I'm your pal who knows when you've had enough. Dude, I trust you to be an adult, but minutes before, you were already so torched I had to keep your neck upright so you didn't faceplant into the table, and you nearly just kissed my floor good evening. Not to mention you clung to my arms the whole way from the little entry stairs to the kitchen because, quoting, 'If I don't I'll fall in the hole and won't get up'."

I turn to the fridge again, going to open it, before I think better of it. Likely enough, we'll both forget it was there in the first place, it'll stink up my fridge- it's Joja's- and it'll be money out of Shane's pocket for nothing. I set it on the counter, with the rest of the pack. He'll put it to cool down when he's back to Marnie's. Or he won't, probably. 

That's not a worry for now.

When I caught up with him, it was a few feet below my doorstep; he'd probably slipped up trying to climb the three steps up to it, and settled for it. He was nursing that same can, muttering to himself, head down, curled up on himself. Except for that leg sticked out, he probably hurt it when he fell, I'll have to look at that and work on it if it's too swollen. Hopefully that'll spare us from a visit to Harvey's.

Bad memories. Not mine, and it's warm and not raining outside, but. Déjà-vu.

Anyways, he looked the picture of "help I've fallen and I can't get up- and even if I can I won't because Fuck You", and it's been a hassle to have him cooperate. But when I asked if he wanted to leave, he shook his head with a fervor no somnolent drunk should have. That resulted in a lovely streak of vomit down the wall right next to the door. That's also for later. If Eryza doesn't lap it up. Ew. This cat's never predictable.

Now, he's staring at his hands, sitting at my table, contemplating something too far down for me to see- or maybe just zoning out with a sleeping brain. Then he mumbles. "Sorry."

I get back to the table and sit at arm's length across of him. "Nah, 's okay. I don't mind being a helping hand or touchy-feely, must be the frog-eater in me. Not for the helping part." I'd chuckle but my quip falls on deaf ears.

I go to put my hand over his. When he doesn't blink at it, I try and shake a reply out of him, gently. He startles and hawkeyes our joined fingers. When he's finally looking at me, I raise a single eyebrow. He doesn't say anything, but when he pulls back his arm, I let him. We both straighten up, and it's hard to keep up the eye contact.

"So…" There's a heavy air on us. Suddenly, like the last year didn't happen, we're sitting a stride away of each other, and yet it feels like he's all the way back to the forest, looking down at waves.

"Do you want me to do something?" I bend myself a little closer to him, not moving otherwise.

He puts his head in his hands, shivering. Can't tell if it's the AC or his system kicking the alcohol out, or itself, in stress. I think I hear something, but it might as just be his shuddering breath.

"Shane" I insist, voice level, not pressing. "I need words. I want to help, I truly don't mind, but I need words to know what to do." He's never shown signs of going nonverbal before. If he does, I'll improvise. Until then… I need words.

Time ticks slowly as we wait. Then, with great effort and deep fatigue, he drags his palms up from under his nose to his temple, spreading some snot and wet tears across his face from his scrunched shut eyes. Lips trembling but finally showing, that attempt to let out a sound that's not too garbled. He coughs, sniffles a bit, breathe in again, sounding like a sick dog, and blows through gritted teeth before his jaws go slack. Eyes still closed, he whispers, and I have to lower myself some more toward his crouched form to catch it.

"Can I get something to drink…?" His voice is hoarse.

The demand could be comical, if we were into sour humor. And we usually are. But right now, we're not finding the joke in the lines. I stand silently, and as I walk to the fridge again, I let my hand brush his shoulder- same spot as before.

I take a minute to choose, look into the pantry. When I'm back at the table with my items of choice, he's still sitting there, his cheek is cushioned on his arms, face hidden from view. His shoulder, except for the occasional tremor, rise and fall in rythm with his snores. Breaks my heart to interrupt that, but not really. Hangovers are mean bitches with the sharpest nail art on the blackest of boards.

"Psst, dude. C'mon." I rustle his hair backward. He hates when I do that, says it tickles, and it makes him sneeze. So I obligatory do it once a day if I can. Let's say today's my late quota for the last four days I haven't seen him.

He gruffly tells me to kindly refrain from such pleasantries, and raise bleary eyes back up at the table. I can also guess he tried to bat a hand at me, but his coordination is off and he slaps himself lightly on the ear. Then he glares bewildered at his hand for a few seconds, obviously insulted. I profit of this moment to grab a small basin from under the sink, on second thought.

When he brings his attention back to me, I'm sitting again. Between us, a jug of fresh milk from this morning, a small sack of peppers, and a juice carafe sit aside a green glass bottle. There's also some bread, mostly for me to munch on. Because, hmmm dough. He squints at it all, especially at the bottle. Probably trying to read the label.

"Yeah no, didn't get you one of my best wine, not sorry."

"Hot pepper… juice?" He looks at the actual peppers next to it. "With actual peppers?" And then I get the squint too.

"Hmph, I know you like your elongated hell tomatoes, man, what can i say."

At that, a feeble snort.

I decide that it is the highlight victory of my soirée.

"Welp, have at it." I gesture to the half-liter liquor glass right by his left.

He fumbles with the drinks and some splashes around, but I lay back on my chair, arms crossed, letting him do his thing. While I don't hold back from growing downright doting on him when I got to- or even when I don't- I don't see how more devotion right now would be not smothering. He can break my fancy glass cups if he wants and spill my milk, so long he doesn't cut himself or cry over it.

Now, you could be thinking that plain water would have done the trick just fine, if not better, in rehydrating him. Here's the thing, though; going from booze to tasteless liquid, for Shane, that's a sure way to puking his heart out. And I'd rather not have us deal with an acid bile throat burn on top of near alcohol poisoning. Sorry to not spare you the squeamish details, but his oesophagus is pretty sensitive ever since that stomach pumping back at the clinic. Hot fiery hell fruits he can do just fine, with relative moderation and hydratation- hence the milk and juice- but liquor bursting its way back from his guts? Nuh uh. 

It had taken lots of coaxing, but he'd explained the plain tastes, or lackthereof, were very hard for him to deal with, especially when contrasting with strong ones like beers and whiskeys. I'd shackle it to gustative hypostimulation, but I don't know enough about him that way to say. He'd said sparkling water was a good compromise.

But I don't have sparkling water, because I do not like suffering.

I might buy a pack for when he visits though.

And I do know a handful about him already. Shackle that to perceptiveness and a stubborn streak on top of a year and so long camaraderie.

And having a certain uncontrollable fear of failing to act quick the next time coped with by accumulating information and patterns compulsively.

I shake my head to focus on the present again. He's switched from juices to soaking bread in milk to eat it small portion after small portion. He pauses in mid-bite when he catches me staring. He's still hunched on himself and red-faced and a tad bloated. His cheeks are drying and he's blown his nose. I smile calmly. Worst of the storm passed, unless I screw up and blow it.

"Ywou wan' chom'?" He offers a dripping piece of bread. In moments like this, when he's sobering but not quite, the resemblance with Jas are unmistakable. The glint in his reddened eyes that open wide, and his blank-but-not-quite wondering expression, it's all here to paint a scrutinizing but vulnerable picture of tired but bright minds.

"Nah thanks. You done with that milk?"

"...Sure." He eyes it, wary. He knows where this is going, and he doesn't like it. I take the drink off the table, and his gaze follows my movement until I bring it to my lips.

He frowns. A silent warning. 

And as I lock onto him with a dead stare, not blinking a millisecond, I down the rest of the 2 liters jug in three, five gulps. I even take the time to lick my new mustache away, and close my mouth with a click of my tongue.

His expression is the macabre marriage of beffudled horror and pure affliction, disgust if you will. The face of someone who doesn't hate milk, but has grown out of it enough to not be able to live off the stuff like the brave souls I'm apart of. And probably with reason, as I actually can't, like most 20+ years old, digest the liquid in large amount. But I smile like a smug cat, perfectly content.

Cats really can't digest milk once adults, it's all social mythos.

We silently judge and fuck with each other like that for a while more, as more time passes, until the room's elephant gets it all humid with its prancing around. Enough that tears and nervous sweats start again, for no apparent reasons but the residual anxiety from the whole chain of events that led to this.

"I think we should talk about this."

--- to be continued.

[thebastardgreenlady]

Lmfao so because I’m the big dumb, we’ll make it a post instead 

In response to @fyrealchemage​​‘s ask (that I hecking screwed up xD)

I was doing Amaryllis and Mirthadra’sa (Bosmer), Cilorinwe and Aurelia (Altmer), Esmeray and Erebserethi (House Dunmer) and Mercia (Khajiit) and Sorrow (Imperial)

Not sure colour coding is worth it, since there’s gonna be alot of writing, also it’s gonna be long, so I’ll make a cut.

B. Opinions of their ‘Homeland’

Amaryllis is a strange one to ask such a question of; She is a Bosmer, so you’d expect some kind of story about love for the Green, but she was taken from Valenwood before she had even opened her eyes and raised in Summerset for most of her life, before being sent to Morrowind for the next half of it as it is now. She only went back to experience Valenwood when she wanted to learn more of it herself. All that said, she loves all of her Homelands, Summerset, Morrowind and Valenwood, equally, and is very proud to come from them, even if some of the residents don’t agree with her. 

Mirthadra'Sa is a pure bred Green Bosmer, and is very protective of Valenwood as such; He isn’t against outsiders, provided they respect the ways of the Wood Elves and don’t cause trouble. 

Cilorinwe is 50/50 with her old home Lillandril; Whilst she adores the Summering Isles, and all the beauty that comes with them, she has a very heavy distaste for the rampant classism, forced, almost cult-like religious grooming and racist ideologies that are forced upon Altmer from childhood well into adulthood within it. As she is now, she wanders where she pleases, and so long as those around her don’t try to cause her any trouble, she’s happy to be there.

Aurelia once adored Summerset, but she didn’t take to the ideologies that most other Altmer from the Isles do, very much akin to her Niece. And the wider that margin she made, the more distant her homeland became to her. She didn’t think outsiders were awful, she thought they had insightful things to teach, and the more she tried to change those around her, the harder the Summering Isles rejected her. When the Psijics removed her from Summerset, she was upset to leave, but she is all the happier living on Artaeum, where other Altmer share the same views as her and she isn’t shunned for it.

Esmeray is a very interesting Dunmer. Born into House Telvanni, in a tower that’s now long gone, she was raised in Morrowind, but never really in one place; the Telvanni Magister she worked beneath was travelling more than was regular for Telvanni, so she saw well outside of a tower than many others did. She likes Morrowind, but desires to see more of the world when she’s finally able to go about doing so by herself.

Erebserethi, being an Overseer of House Dres, is very rooted in traditional ways, but unlike his fellow Dres, doesn’t believe entirely that tradition will forever hold up a House name on it’s own. He takes pride in being a House Dunmer, and to come from what he claims to be “The very Heart of All of Morrowind” (it isn’t, he’s just a pompous ass about it) and will ramble on for hours about how Morrowind is a sacred land created only for The Worthy, which he is adamant isn’t only Dark Elves, even if his House Kin hate him for it.

Mercia thinks Elsweyr can be quite hot from time to time, having a thick coat of fur isn’t all that great when in hot places, but she likes the feeling of sand under her paws. She says it always smells sweet, and reminds her of fresh Sweetrolls. Being raised in Skyrim, she loves Skyrim more, she says she loves the soft crunch of snow under her feet, and watching her breath in the air in the early morning.

Sorrow doesn’t really have a homeland to have an opinion of anymore, as Peryite destroyed it when she was much younger. If you ask her of her opinion on Cyrodiil as a whole, she’ll tell you it is a war ravaged wasteland that she has no interest in, a place where old memories are left behind so new ones can be made elsewhere. As she is constantly travelling, she doesn’t really have a proper place to stay, but considering she spends most of her time in Apocrypha, I suppose that would count? She thinks Apocrypha is the most charming place, as her thirst for knowledge is endless and it provides to her every answer to every question she could conceive. She’s found an odd sort of safety and comfort in a place many would consider more dangerous than a war zone. C. Do the worship the Divines, Daedra or Tribunal? If so, why?

Amaryllis tends to be a bit fluid in her beliefs. She loves learning about how each different race defines their religion, deriving from similar points of history, and taking them on many different turns and changes to fit their own race and homeland, but she herself mostly pays tribute to the Tribunal, namely Vivec, because of his huge part in her life. She will give praise to Ayem and Seht occasionally, but most of her love and affection go to her Lord Vehk. She tends to give thanks to Hircine, on account of her Lycanthropy, from time to time as well.

Mirthadra’Sa gives praise to Y’ffre for all that he has, and his home of Valenwood, sometimes the other Divines. Despite the fact he’s a Vampire, he does not praise Molag Bal.

Cilorinwe gives her praise and worship to one Daedric Prince of Hedonism; Sanguine. She is, as such, his Champion and happily goes around wielding his Rose and drinking herself to the bottom of every barrel, cup, bottle or crate she can get her hands on. Despite the fact she is a Vampire, she does not praise Molag Bal; quite the contrary. She’s faced him once before and told him that if he wanted her to ‘praise him for his gifts to her’ he’d have to pry it from her cold dead body with his crusty ass claws. Suffice to say, she is no longer allowed to go to Cold Harbour.

Aurelia doesn’t really follow religion, so much as study them. She adores obscure and obsolete traditions or cultures, and desires nothing more than to learn everything she can about them.  

Esmeray is aware of higher powers, but she doesn’t follow any of them. She is of the belief that one is to be divine by one’s own making.

Erebserethi claims to be an atheist, but has taken upon himself to privately worship the Divines due to his.. Preferences.

Mercia loves Jone and Jode. That’s.. pretty much all she’s got going for her. She’s not very bright. 

Sorrow is a faithful Hermaeus Mora follower, and a very important one at that. They saved her life from Peryite, seeing in her something valuable, and have since continued to save her from an otherwise Mortal disease Peryite would otherwise claim her with. She owes everything she has to Mora, and she will forever praise them for the part they had in keeping her alive, even if their reasons were selfish.

[horseluvr00-ff]

A Place to Call Home | Chapter 7

Masterlist Here

Rating: T+

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe

Genre/Warnings: action/adventure/family | kidnapping, violence, strong language

Summary: It’s been a few months since the Battle of New York. Steve Rogers is acclimating to life when he crosses paths with teenager Katelyn Sanders, a SHIELD recruit and highly valued asset with a dark past. Follow Kate’s adventure from SHIELD asset to Avenger to wanted fugitive over the course of her youth and into adulthood with her Avenging family. Follows Infinity Saga and beyond.

Words: 9,468

Disclaimer: Majority of properties within this fanfic are owned by Marvel/Disney. My OC Katelyn Sanders, as well as a few other unaffiliated things within this fanfic are of my own creation.

Author Note: Chapters usually average between 6,000 and 8,000 words. Relogs are welcome :) Please no plagiarism.

gif source: @smartsnhearts

Full story available on FanFiction.net and A03 here and here

Chapter 7 can be found here and here in full. Go here to the full prologue tumblr post… So many options.

The most recently posted chapter on these platforms, chapter 12, can be found here and here.

Check out the first few paragraphs of Chapter 7 below:

BANG BANG BANG

Kate's eyes snap open, the noise echoing throughout her room as someone proceeded to hit the door again to alert her of them entering.

She quickly pushed herself up off the bed, turning her eyes towards the door as it was pushed open and two individuals walked in.

"Let's go." He nodded to the way out.

She pushed up off of the bed before walking towards him. Her hands subconsciously raised and he locked on cuffs before directing her out of the room. Walking down the hall, her eyes were on the floor mostly. There wasn't anything new to look at.

As usual, around once a month she ate meals with other recruits. She was unsure as to why. Other recruits ate meals in the cafeteria normally. She ate alone, mostly because her training didn't leave much time for meals throughout the day. Eating only slowed her down, so she usually received the essential nutrients from an IV pump or through other means. She had light foods on occasion if she didn't have training the following day.

As they got closer to one of the elevators, her eyes lifted to see Doctor Gordon waiting.

"You know the drill. No talking to anyone. Eat something and then report back." Gordon states, barely looking at her before he scanned his badge next to the elevator door and pressed the up button.

Walking into the elevator, Kate's eyes were down before the doors closed behind them. The two individuals who had retrieved her from her room were still behind her, a hand was still gripping her shoulder - the one who had directed her about the halls.

When the elevator came to a stop, Kate felt the hand leave her shoulder as one of the men left the elevator, the other walking in front of her to remove the cuffs.

She was quiet as they ushered her out and down the hall a few feet before they left her there and headed back for the elevator.

Kate stood there for a moment, alone in the hall as different employees walked to and fro down the hallway.

Clenching her jaw, Kate crossed her arms before heading down the hall. As she came to the end of it, the space opened up into the cafeteria. The sound of chatter picked up as Kate entered the space and made a beeline for the end of the line. She quickly grabbed a tray and looked up to meet the eyes of the employee standing there ready to take ID cards from the recruits.

She didn't have one. As soon as the man's eyes met hers, realization came over his face and he nodded for her to go.

Kate tried to keep her head down as she went through the line, grabbing some tiny portions of random food before exiting the line. At the beverage counter, Kate quickly grabbed a bottled water, mug, and snatched a random tea bag from the boxes available. She then found a table with no one sitting at it and set her tray down.

She didn't like sitting in the cafeteria. There were way too many people, and there were extra staff - armed staff - in the room because she was there.

Ripping open the small package, Kate removed the tea bag before placing it into her mug. Taking the water bottle, she poured half of it before placing it next to her tray. Might as well let it steep now, then heat it later. There was a small line near the microwave.

Kate quickly went to work on her food. She needed to eat quickly.

…. Okay, that wasn't entirely necessary. But Gordon would find an excuse to get angry, so best hurry to avoid retribution.

Kate had been with SHIELD for a long time. It was a little blurry every now and then, but she could put a timeline together in her head if she had the right headspace to think about it. She knew most of the employees, at least the ones that worked with her, and had her schedule down. However something had changed more recently and she was unsure as to what was going on. Doctor Gordon was rushing a lot. He was more anxious and seemed as if he wanted to get to a certain point in her training before something else could take place.

The sound of the elevator opening caused Kate to tense up immediately.

Crap. They're coming to get her already. Had fifteen minutes gone by that quickly? There was no way.

Kate tilted her head only slightly. Agent Hill was coming. Weird. She didn't usually visit the cafeteria out of the blue, unless she had superiors with her. There was someone else. Someone she didn't recognize. A man.

Kate was quiet as she picked at some of her food, zoning out the chatter of the room as she tried to pick up on Hill's voice. She seemed to be telling this man about the facility. After a few seconds, Kate heard a quiet ringing. A phone.

Moments later Agent Hill walked away and Kate shot a quick glance over, seeing the man standing there alone, looking a bit lost. Weird. Why was he here? Time for bad decision making.

Collecting her mug, Kate got up from her seat and headed towards the microwave. She got a quick glance at the man who was standing there evaluating the room. As she drew closer he seemed to eye her in particular.

Who was he? Dirty blond hair, blue eyes, strong build… Most likely a field agent. However there was something different about him, he didn't seem like the normal field agents that visit the facility.

Kate felt her hand gripping the mug tighten as she proceeded to walk closer to him.

Great, he's standing in front of the microwave. What could make the day better than having to speak to an unfamiliar and most likely green agent. Gordon would have her head.

"Excuse me sir," Kate cleared her throat and gestured to the wall behind him where the microwave was sitting.

At her words, the man quickly turned to see he was blocking the appliance and moved out of the way, giving her a small smile.

Kate tried to be respectful, but also avoid eye contact. She shouldn't be talking with anyone to begin with.

Placing the mug into the microwave she closed the door and put a time on the keypad before pressing the start button. The device began to hum as the table within started to slowly spin.

Kate hesitantly turned her eyes, seeing the man looking out over the room at the other recruits. By his posture, he seemed a bit uneasy, but also curious and observant. He was definitely new. But why was he here? She hadn't seen Agent Hill take anyone on a tour of the facility except higher up agents, the council- or whatever the Director of SHIELD called them. She had seen them before visiting once. They wanted to see her in particular since she's supposed to be of great importance to SHIELD's future field wor-

Kate's eyes dot towards the microwave as she felt eyes on her. The man was eyeing her. He was trying to be discreet… key word being trying. She waited a moment to see if he was planning on engaging in conversation or if he was just curious. Perhaps he already knew who she was.

Kate clenched her jaw after a moment, her focus on this man next to her as she waited for the microwave to finish heating her tea this century. How long did she even put it in for?

He was wearing a sort of all black tactical suit. It was different from others she had seen. There was a star on his chest and faint stripes. He stood very straight and seemed pretty attentive; probably from a military background.

"Excuse me, miss?"

God damn it.

Kate turned quickly, her hands already having gone behind her back as she adjusted her posture.

"Sir?" She responds, her eyes meeting his. She could tell almost immediately how he was hesitant to speak up.

"You're a recruit for Oriah correct?" He looked very hesitant, but his voice was pretty confident. His approach was very different from pretty much every individual from SHIELD she had encountered previously. All agents addressed her from a position of authority; however he was talking to her like you would a random stranger you stop on the side of the road to ask for directions.

"Yes sir, I am." Kate nodded in response to his question, trying to mask some of her own hesitation while talking to him. "What's your name?"

Ok he definitely didn't know who she was. While no one really told Kate what her stake was in SHIELD, she knew she was treated much differently from other recruits. They held her in high regard, she was valuable. They had plans for how she would serve SHIELD in the future. This man obviously wasn't aware of that. Which was kind of amusing for some reason.

"Katelyn, or just- Kate." That sounded weird coming out of her mouth. She hadn't said her name out loud in- a while. Hell, she hadn't really spoken out loud in a while either, so that was an interesting change.

"Alright Kate, I'm Captain Steve Rogers." The now named stranger held out a hand and Kate froze.

What the hell? This guy was a riot. He really had no idea about this program did he?

It took several seconds, but Kate finally held out a hand and shook his.

"Wondered if you could answer a couple questions? I'm a little new here." He chuckled.

No kidding.

Kate gave him a small nod as he smiled. He was a little nervous. He was hiding it well, but still. She could tell, no supernatural abilities needed. Wait- she needed to say something in response.

"I -uh, yes sir, Captain." She dropped her hand from his before turning them behind her back.

A beeping filled the air and Kate paid it no mind as she eyed the Captain.

"How uh, how long have you been here?" He asked.

Kate was quiet for only a moment while thinking over her answer. She was somewhat sure, but needed to give him the impression that she was pretty certain. If she was unsure, it might set off alarm bells.

"Coming up on three years, Captain." Kate gave him a nod, making sure to remain standing attentively while answering his questions.

"That considered a long time?" Captain Rogers asked, bringing his hands up to rest on his belt. He did the action so smoothly and without thought, it was almost like he did it subconsciously. His posture relaxed a bit, but remained straight. He was getting more comfortable.

"Not necessarily." Kate responded, eyeing him calmly. "I guarantee there could be individuals who have been here longer, but I suppose it's longer than most of the recruits here."

Emphasis on that statement. She couldn't really think of anyone who had been there longer than she was, not of the top of her head at least. There were some, no doubt about that. But Oriah was fairly new when she got there. It was small, private, and not on the large scale that it was now.

"And with the training you've received. It's been beneficial? Have you found it helpful?" Captain Rogers asked.

Kate clenched her jaw at the question, taking a moment to just stare at his curious and almost innocent expression.

"I- suppose so, sir." Kate says, still watching him as she calmed her confused appearance.

For the first time in a while, Kate was at a loss for what to do - Who the hell was this guy? No one talked to her like that. He was obviously very new to this program- hell, maybe even SHIELD. Why did he have to pick her? She'd get into so much trouble for this later.

"Captain Rogers, a word."

Crap. Agent Hill.

Kate quickly adjusted her stance and almost went rigid as she stood straighter, her hands tightening behind her back as she unfocused her eyes from Captain Rogers.

The Captain had turned away from her and was eyeing the Deputy Director of SHIELD when she turned to look at Kate.

"Sanders you can go, I apologize." Agent Hill waved a hand, giving her permission to leave.

"It's not a problem, ma'am." Kate quickly nodded before turning to the Captain. "Sir," She gave him a curt nod and waited a moment for a response.

Captain Rogers gave her a small smile before nodding in response. That's- one way to dismiss an inferior non-agent er- recruit.

Kate quickly turned and grabbed her tea from the microwave before heading for her table. She took a seat, remaining very attentive and straight in her posture. Until they left the room, Kate wanted to remain vigilant.

"If you're done breaking protocol, I have to get a report back to the director. I'll escort you out." Agent Hill spoke.

Kate's brow knit as she turned only slightly to see the Captain following Agent Hill. Seconds later the man turned and Kate's head shot back towards the table, but she could still tell his eyes were on her before he left the room.

Kate slowly looked back over towards where they had disappeared. Odd. Wait-... Damn it.

Her eyes shooting towards the clock, Kate noticed it was past her time to be in the cafeteria. Gulping down her now lukewarm tea, Kate threw the remains of her meal into the trash before she headed towards the hall opposite of where Captain Rogers and Agent Hill left.

Gordon wouldn't be happy.

The rest of chapter 7 can be found here on FFN and here on AO3. Take a peak!

Stay healthy, stay safe, sending lots of love. <3

Masterlist Here

[ships-inside-your-head]

to evade death’s hands

@awkward-toshinori

Toshinori was aware that he had saved Izuku from being choking to death from mucus that day - or was it more of a feeling like drowning? He was not sure, but all he knew was that his boy would be dead just because a villain wanted to abuse him as a living puppet. A chill of ice spread in him when he thought of it. Of course, the other boy almost died too because of his mistake, but he did not have the emotional bond to that kid, which linked him to the little green-haired one.

Young Midoriya had impressed him at that time and every time Toshinori watched him, as he cleaned this beach, which the blond only vaguely remembered clean, then a warmth spread through him. He could only be proud of him for doing all this on his own, without being able to call a quirk his own, and he made such progress, even though it probably did not seem like that to the boy himself.

He was glad that he had not taken his discharge too much to heart at the beginning. He knew very well the statistics that showed how few quirkless children and adolescents grew up. Many died at a young age commiting suicide, because they were victims of society, who believed that they were worth less - and those who reached adulthood could produce little in life, and in most cases had depression and it broke his heart. He could understand the pain of these people, especially when he thought back to his childhood, even if it was not as catastrophic as it was today.

And when he saw the boy gratefully accepting the bottle of water he handed to him and giving him a beaming smile, which brightened his tired face, he was grateful that he had walked under the bridge that day, so as not to meet the crowds, because they showed only fear and discomfort to his true appearance. He was thankful that he had met Midoriya Izuku on that fateful day and saved his life. ✩ Just in time, he hurried to the office of policeman Naomasa Tsukauchi, with whom he actually wanted to meet a few minutes ago, who happened to be his best friend and knew as much as any of his secrets and kept them as if they were a treasure and Toshinori was grateful for that.

"S-sorry, Tsukauchi-kun, I had to quickly stop a villain after I left Young Midori-", he breathed quickly, coughing as he put the paper cup of fresh coffee on the table, which the dark-haired took gratefully before his eyes slid over the figure of the hero and stared at him in surprise.

Toshinori paused when he saw the look. "Is something?" He asked, his voice taking on a more serious tone than before.

"Nothing bad, only ... you look better," Tsukauchi confessed, and the blond began to stammer. "W-what?", He began to cough again, this time strong enough that a bit of blood appeared and immediately Naomasa jumped up to hand him a handkerchief, which he always carried with him for a case like this.

"Thank you, my friend ..." Toshinori muttered after he had finished and sat opposite his best friend. "But please ... explain what you mean."

"You look healthier like you eat more. You have not looked so good for years, "explained his counterpart. The hero looked at him with dread, before laughing embarrassed and rubbing his neck. "That may be the case, Young Midoriya sometimes brings me food, which I can tolerate. I just can not figure out if he makes it or his mother. "

Naomasa smiled. "It's good. Glad to hear you allow someone to take care of you. "

The only answer was a shy smile. ✩ Some time later, Toshinori injured himself in a fight against an unknown villain, whom he was quick to arrest, but thevillain’s quirk that had to do with alkalis put a damper on him, even after flushing it with enough water. So he had no choice but to face Recovery Girl to get healed.

When she saw him, the older heroine merely sighed before pressing a kiss on his cheek. The weariness took possession of him immediately, but he did not feel as exhausted as he had the other times before. He managed to smile at Chiyo Shuzenji before her watchful eyes slid over his face.

"Hm. Strange, "she said simply, and instantly he tensed his muscles to be ready if the case arose. He was not sure what exactly, but he was always ready when he had to.

"What's weird?" He asked, staring intently at her with his electric blue eyes, and she gave him a slight grin.

"You're more rested than usual. Do you sleep more?" She asked him and he could not really interpret her expression.

He ducked his head, but still hesitated a bit with the answer. “... my successor is already so far in training and the responsibility that sometimes I can safely take a nap on the beach without anything happening immediately. Young Midoriya assures me every time that he would wake me up in case something should happen. So yes, I probably get more sleep than before. "

She hummed contentedly to herself. "Well."

When he asked why she was so interested, she skillfully ignored him and merely gave him a mysterious smile. ✩

"Ah, All Might! Come in! "It happily came with the ever-present grin of the director of U.A. and Toshinori did as he was told. The blonde bowed his head to the animal, which he acknowledged with a polite smile.

"A little bird told me that you've already found a potential successor," Nezu said, offering his guest a perfectly prepared tea, not that the blonde had ever expected anything else. "Are you continuing to pursue the plan to become a teacher here next year?" The white creature asked, the smile never leaving his face.

"Oh, of course I do! My Boy is trying to enroll here because it's his dream school and I hope he can do it, but ... we'll have to wait and even if he had to go to another heroes' school, I'd support him anyway. "

Nezu took a sip of his tea. "Sounds like you're serious about the boy."

"Oh, that's right! I'll give him One For All, whether he succeeds in the entrance exam or not, because I'm sure he'll become a great hero. He is already a good man, "with these words Toshinori beamed across his face. "I'll do anything to support and raise him!"

"It seems to me as if you had found a new task. That's good, "he said, taking another sip of his tea and shoving some notes to Toshinori.

"We have to discuss the curriculum ..." ✩ When Toshinori came home one night after watching Izuku practice and giving him tips, he got a huge shock when his old homeroom teacher, Gran Torino, was sitting on his kitchen counter and eating Taiyaki with a grim expression, which he had to brought with him, because the blonde could not eat these treats himself anymore.

"G-gran Torino!" He exclaimed loudly, and the familiar fear rose in him as he immediately remembered the brutal training he had to go through with his old mentor. In the end it had helped him, he did not deny that, but ... this method had prevented him from seeing the man as a father, instead seeing only a mentor, unlike Nana, who had been both a mother and a mentor.

"Toshinori!" The old man growled in his deep voice, his grim expression turning to surprise as he saw the blonde.

"Good that you do not rot away any longer," he grumbled, jumping off the counter and walking past the # 1 hero, flailing his cane against his legs, causing him to flinch and heading toward the door.

"W-what? Gran Torino? What did you want here, what- ", continued the younger, but stopped because the door fell loudly with a crash and Toshinori was still standing in the kitchen and did not understand what had just happened.

"What the ...," he began in confusion, but interrupted himself with a shake of the head. He had not understood his mentor when he was younger, but over the years he became more and more eccentric, and he was less and less able to understand him. Maybe that had something to do with the decline in contact between them, he was not sure. ✩ Toshinori realized a few things when he recalled the words of his confidants, after Izuku had approached him one morning with the words, "All Might, you look well today!" Then the little greenhaired man beamed at him and he could not help but laugh out loud.

"That's true! Since I've known you, I'm paying more attention to myself! "He said cheerfully, and only seconds later he realized what he had said and what that meant.

Izuku looked surprised at first, then smiled delightedly what the elder returned. "Then we'll start today's training!" He said, and enthusiastically the boy started cleaning the beach. He let himself sink into the sand instead.

He paid more attention to himself since he met Izuku and decided to train him as his successor. But why? It's true that the boy kept giving him food, but he could have refused anytime, but he did not. It was also true that he slept more often, because he often took a nap here on the beach. Before, he would never have believed that he could relax in a public place so that he really slept peacefully.

Toshinori had started to take more care of himself, to ... what? To live longer? To accompany the boy as long as possible on his way to Pro? He thought of Gran Torino's words, as well as those of Nezu. Yes, he had a new job, but had he gotten so bad that he let himself go so that he just ... rotted? He had not noticed. If that was true, then he could slowly begin to understand why everyone was so stubborn that he took care of himself.

The face of his former sidekick Sir Nighteye briefly emerged in his mind's eye and he winced violently. They had not parted well, because he was too eager to work as a hero again, while his friend had begged him to retire. He ignored it and lost a valuable friend.

Only now did he realize how close he was to dying, and only by his ignorance and stubbornness alone. He just barely jumped out of death’s hands. A little bit longer and it would have been all over. And all of this he owed to this hopeful, determined teenager.

His electric blue eyes remained on the figure of his successor.

No.

At this point, one could not only speak of his successor. Izuku was so much more and it was only now that he noticed. He knew that he was not the best at interpersonal relationships, but now he finally understood what the child was to him.

Izuku was his boy, his successor, his son in everything but blood.

But more importantly, he was all of his hope.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Solitude | Fire | Change | Disease

We Can Be Like They Are || Accepting

Solitude: Name 3 things your muse couldn’t live without. 

She puts down the fork she’s used to create little huts out of the greens on her plate. The huts themselves made for little slivered carrot natives that need her beneficent guidance to live out their orange lives amidst the lush greenery and the heavy coating of vinaigrette. She’s made entire stories in her head about the various bits of food in the bowl, why she’s pushed them around in silence for the last long five minutes since the waiter brought them to the table.

If she goes to the bathroom one more time to text Brian, he’s going to think she’s got some kind of wicked UTI or having an affair with the bus boy, and she’s not sure which would be worse. This is all going wrong.It had started off well enough with Brian picking her brother up according to plan, and hour before Luka showed up. He’d driven up from Coronado. Was even wearing a suit and tie. But the place is crowded and very dim and very romantic and she feels so queasy. She can’t really see his face and there’s a background hum that makes it almost impossible to keep up and…And he’s asked her a direct question. She catches that much as her gaze strays to his mouth and maybe the glow from his phone limns him in extra light.

“Er…uh. My braddah, of course. Ocean. If I can’t surf, dere’s no point in life. Uhm. Coffee. I live off coffee.”

Fire: Would your muse rather be very cold, or very hot?The same silence creeps over them again, familiar but unwanted, like a friend who doesn’t know when to leave. 

Another excruciating few minutes. She starts to ask a question here and there but the quaint little fiddler begins romantic orchestrations on his violin adding to the din. She worries the edge of her napkin, pristine in her lap although she doesn’t know why it’s really there except that that is how she has been raised. At least his sits next to his plate. And in seeking it out, she catches the subtle little movements of his hand. It fidgets but with purpose. What that is she doesn’t know but can guess he’s counting time until he can slip free, or otherwise marking the passage of time somehow. And it takes her even longer to answer the question because she’s never thought about it that much.“Suppose…I dunno. I mean if is too cold den give ya reason to curl up under blankets or beside someone ya like. An’ cold means snow an’ ice t’ me…like surfing Alaska. But I don’ wanna be cold f’evah, ya know? An’ too hot…well… dere’s only so many layers ya can take off an’ if is still hot aftah dat…wha’ recourse ya got? Also where are ya dat ya no can find proper environmental sheltah for da climate? Too many unknown variables t’ figure out before I can answer it properly, in a scientific way.”

Change: What was a turning point in your muse’s life?

This question catches her in such a way that she gives him less doe eyes and more like a deer caught in headlights. Autonomic responses she can’t control go a little wild, her breath tightening just a touch and her lips parting without anything coming out of them before she draws the tip of her tongue along the lower lip and looks away, a little frown in between her brows.The question is extremely personal and she isn’t sure how to answer. The first catastrophic event was the untimely shark-bite. Then the news from the doctors that eventually lead to her parents divorcing and her mother abandoning the family. Finding a new one she liked better, and all her father’s misplaced resentment falling on her shoulders. And then there was…“Movin’ t’ N’york da firs’ time…or aftah da Accident, coming here t’ California, I guess but I really don’ wanna get into da specifics of dat, ya know? Is kind of…upsettin’…really…an’ I just…”She shrinks inside of herself, visibly, as if she were a chalk drawing on a distant sidewalk that he’s just hosed off. Moving to the mainland was the first time she’d ever really been cut off from her brother, and after his accident…they had become different people, their relationship irrevocably changed and she  doesn’t want to make it all any more awkward than it already is.Which was a pity that she couldn’t see she’d already done so.

Disease: What does your muse do on a sick day?

The first bottle of wine is nearly empty, their food is still a while away from hitting the table and this last question drags up things she absolutely ISN’T going to talk about. She’d glossed over it in letters, how sometimes the world is too loud, too disorienting. She’s made mention that she has learning disabilities that still affect her well into her adulthood and that there are other problems that she would hardly bring up to her priest much less someone she’s trying to have a first date with and now…now Beth understands why she doesn’t go on them. She understands why she let’s Andy be the White Knight she thinks of him as when he puts himself between her and the world. The violinist is too close, flirting with her and Luka musically. There’s forks scraping on porcelain the sound of which puts her teeth on edge and… everythingistoocloseandtooloudandshefeelssicktoherstomachand…And she finally looks up and across the table. He…looks as miserable as she feels and she knows it’s her fault. The only thing she can do now to salvage any of this is to throw herself on her sword, so to speak, and…“…An’ ya wan get out of here?”Her napkin is tossed onto her plate as she slides out of her chair, the subtle beads on her little black dress catching the candlelight and throwing it back into the restaurant. She opens her little clutch purse, puts two twenties down, and shirks into her shawl.She doesn’t see his jaw clench. The way the muscle there twitches once, twice. In fact, all she can really do is concentrate on walking slowly toward the door and not tripping flat on her face because of these stupid high heels she’s wearing.