#imagine a teenager but she sucks so so so fucking bad and is damn lucky that mason is a literal actual serial killer because otherwise

[arolesbianism]

A couple more eternal gales refs that I’ve managed to finish up the past week, goodbye staliens I will miss you so as I move on to the human kids

[nervouslittlewreck]

Rain on me

No one asked for it- I decided to do it anyway.

This is my first time writing xreader, also English isn’t my first language, so I’m obviously thankful for all of your tips and critics! I did try to keep it free of anything describing the reader (which wasn’t too hard considering the length of the story...)

Summary: After the reader had a really bad day she’s coming home to find Ben already at her apartment. Fluff ensues.

Warning: none, except for fluff (and excessive use of comma)

Relationships: Ben Barnes x reader

Word count: ~1.100 words

'Argh' you thought when you left the train station to find the big black clouds that had started to collect all afternoon had decided to finally make it rain. 'Just what I've been missing today.' With a wary sigh you stepped into the pour, pulling the hood of your thin jacket over your head in a senseless try to protect your hair from the rain. Hurrying down the street you managed to get your ten minute foot-walk from the station to your apartment down to about five. Trying to shake a bit of the water off you opened the door, looking into your letterbox before deciding to take the elevator today. 'Out of service. Of fucking course.' Your day really was going shit so far. Taking one step at a time you realized that not only were you starving but exhausted. Finally unlocking the door to your apartment you found the light in the living room was on already. 'At least something', you thought with a relieved sigh and a tired smile. "Hey sweetheart" you greeted him with a soft call, just in case he was taking a nap or making a call. Seconds later he appeared in the doorway, your cat hot on his heels. "Hey there, stranger" His smile made your heart squeeze for a second. Every time you saw him you realized how damn lucky you were. His eyes widening at your state he said "Oooohh, I'd hoped you would make it home before it started to pour..." "Seems I'm out of luck today" you chuckled, earning you a quiet laugh while he came closer. "Not entirely" he said "I pre-heated the bathroom for you." "You know I love you, right?" You asked, giving him a quick kiss before putting your clothes into the laundry machine that was standing in the bathroom. His smile widened, his nose crunching up adorably. "And I love you, which is why you're going to take that shower and have dinner with me afterwards." You couldn't help but smile back. "Thank you, Ben, really." "Nothing to thank for, dear. Now go shower, I'll get you some clothes and make sure Dinner's ready by the time you are." With that he left the bathroom, softly closing the door behind him. Dazed, you were looking at the door. What did you do to deserve him? Right before you turned the water on you heard him talking to your cat about how she, too, had to be on good behavior today to improve your mood. 'That dork' you thought, smiling, while hot steam started to fill the room.

After you were done, Dinner was ready, just like Ben had promised you. He'd even gone so far and lit a couple candles on the dinner table. "I can't thank you enough for this, Ben" you told him, while hugging him from behind where he was standing at the kitchen counter. He turned around in your arms, making you look at him. "You doing better?" His face was serious, checking your face for signs of improvement. "I am, really. And really hungry." You buried your face in his shoulder for a second, his hands rubbing over your shoulders in a calming manner before you broke apart. Sitting down at the table you smiled at him over your food- simply seeing him sit there made you unbelievably happy. "So" you said after a few minutes of eating in silence. "How was your day?" With time it had become a ritual of yours to talk about your day over dinner, and just because today had sucked for you (as he already knew from the countless text messages he'd gotten from you during the day) didn't mean you didn't care about his day. "Oh, you know, today I had this thing for the new project..." as he told you about his meetings and interviews you noticed the happy glint in his eyes, the scrunching of his nose when he let out a small laugh at something and the way he would always look at you to make sure you were still listening. You couldn't bear to look away. Not when you were so happy to have him in your life.

Later, lying in bed, cuddled up to each other with your cat laying on top of you softly purring into your ear, you had a nice and calming round of pillow talk. The soft light of the bedside lamp made you both sleepy, still trying to stay awake. "Or we could go to South America" you murmured "I've always wanted to go there, but going alone..." "Me too. Every time I watch a documentary about it I try to imagine what it's like to be there, but I never can" You laughed softly at his enthusiasm, him chuckling along. Suddenly he grew serious. "Where would you want to live, you know- long term?" Taking a look at his face, the way he bit his lip nervously, you took a second before answering. You knew that family was quite important to him, but also that he would leave everyone of his friends and family behind if it meant making you happy. "When I was a teenager I always dreamed of a small house in the middle of nowhere. Back then I was sure it was going to be in Iceland, but you know how I am with cold...so I decided it was going to be in Great Britain, Ireland maybe. For some time I was obsessed with the Scottish accent..." Fading off, you still looked at him, trying to ignore the way the relief in his eyes pulled at your heart. "Scottish?!" He tried to downplay his relief. "How dare you!" "I mean, I met you, so now I'm quite fond of your accent..." Both of you were silent for a second. "You know, you don't have to give up your own life just to make me happy, right? I love you too, and seeing you seemingly always cutting back...I don't want that. I want you to be happy too, baby." He looked you deep in the eyes. "I know. But I would do and give up anything for you, without hesitation." "And I love you for that, Ben. The thing is: you don't have to, because I would do that too." He pulled you closer, hiding his face in your hair. You could almost feel his emotions. "What about a small house in the British Countryside?" Was all he said after a couple minutes. "I'd love that, sweetheart." Kissing him and putting your head on his chest you started to fall asleep, imagining yourself running through the grass behind your future house, him trying to catch you, maybe a dog nearly making you fall, laughter echoing all over the field while the sun was going down. The last thing you heard before succumbing to sleep was Ben's silent "Goodnight, love."

[filipinoizukuu]

I have the notebook in hand now I beg you for explanation

HSBFNDSJNFVN my dearest snail oh jeez 😭 i have about maybe dozens of stories about accidentally being y/n, so i'm prayin and hopin none of my IRLs see this. Some details hidden for privacy.

LONG story ahed, so be warned.

-

So. End of winter to early spring about a year before COVID-19. I was still a little snot-nosed high schooler hanging out with my friends and generally being a nuisance upon society. For those of you that have never seen me in real life, the first thing you need to know was that I was adorable, female-presenting, and had the appearance of a goody-two-shoes star student down to a T.

Now, the second thing you need to know is about my friend group and how a majority of them were guys.

I'm not talking about like, darling boy-next-doors and fellow star-student nerds. I'm talking about teenage boys. GUYS guys. Rowdy and wrestling in the hallways, getting into fights, and pulling (harmless) pranks on each other kind of guys. The gross type because I love my friends but even I can admit they're kind of gross.

One day after school, we're hanging out in someone's truck on the way to a get-together. There are about four of us just chilling, me being the only girl. Someone's phone goes off and we look to see one of us pick up his phone.

Now, this friend, let's call him S.

S picks up the phone and starts talking to it. We hear bits and pieces of the conversation and he sounds a little nervous. He puts the phone down and looks at us with a weird expression and says he needs to get home.

"What gives, S?" we ask, slouching in our seats and drinking sweet tea, like all other self-respecting teenage hooligans. "Who was that?"

S explains to us very carefully that he just got off the phone with his auntie and that she wants to have a sit-down and dinner with him. We coo and make fun of him a little and acquiesce, driving on over to his place to drop him off and embarrass him in front of his parents as friends do. We tell him as much when S lights up and looks at us like he just got the world's best idea.

(Heads up! It was not.)

"Guys! I have a better idea."

The rest of us look at each other. "Which is...?"

"What if I pretend to have a girlfriend to impress my Aunt?"

Record scratch. Pause. I suddenly remember that I am the only pretty 'ole lady in this small and stuffy truck. In an instant, all eyes on the vehicle are on me.

No, hell no. I think to myself, there's no way I'm ever going to do this. This is how every fanfic starts and I am absolutely not emotionally available enough to do this. And you know what? That's exactly what I should've said.

Instead, what came out of my mouth was this:

"Buy me a tub of ice cream and I'm all yours."

And thus, the devil's deal was sealed.

Minutes later, we're exiting the truck and looking over at S's white picket fence and perfectly maintained garden. S goes with me and I suck it up, bracing myself for the performance of my lifetime. We do not hold hands and our other friend (E) walks behind us while dying of laughter. S opens the door and we are immediately greeted by the sight of his kind-looking Auntie welcoming him with open arms.

S waltzes in.

"Auntie... this is my girlfriend, Codi."

Now, a quick word about me and how I was in real life at the point of this story. I looked the part of an adorable overachieving student, and while my grades did match up, my attitude sure as hell didn't. I'm naturally a very loud and boisterous person. I 'get into fights' and curse just as well as the rest of them. I had a reputation in a few areas for having the knack of making my underclassmen cry. The point being, I wasn't a saint.

But I was a damn good actor.

"Hi Auntie!" I greet with the peppiest and highest voice I could manage. I skip towards her and shake her hand, smiling like a cracked-up cheerleader in a Coca-Cola ad from the '80s when they made it with actual cocaine. "Your nephew S is just about the sweetest thing ever. He's so nice and smart and I'm incredibly lucky to have him!" I lie through my teeth.

In the background, I can hear E on the verge of deranged cackling while S just stands there and coughs into his fist like an emotionally constipated tuberculosis patient.

My Limit of the Day has been reached, so I shoot Auntie S a quick grin when she enthusiastically thanks me for my services and then haul my ass out their door, E hot on my heels. We leave S behind to deal with whatever shitstorm came after and I tried my best to not look back.

The moment the old truck door slams shut behind us, E abso-fucking-lutely loses it, guts busting with how much he's laughing. We high-tail it to the get-together and I make him swear up and down to not mention it for the rest of the day. It's over, at this point, the thing's been done and there's no other damage than my sanity and maybe S's relationship with his aunt. At least, that is what I thought.

Hours later, S texts me.

hey so um. remember that thing earlier?

Odd question, because how could I not?

yeah so. my aunt stayed for dinner and my parents arrived early and they asked me about school so. long story short... my whole family thinks we're dating.

Predictably, I lose my mind. I ask myself how I got into this situation and then imagine the sweet, sweet ice cream waiting for me at the end of this ride. I'm like, okay! This isn't so bad! It's actually really funny if I think about it enough. At least it's contained, right? I say my famous last words. It's not like I'll ever actually meet his family again.

So I go to bed and decidedly Pass Go, Collect $200 on any fanfics or other friendly drama that night.

The next week, I walk into school. I'm going about my normal business when I bump into my friend group. They pounce on me like a hound of dogs, making rounds of congratulations with varying faces of amusement. "What?" I go, like an oblivious idiot.

From like 15 feet down the hall, a familiar figure turns the corner and I lock eyes with him. Something clicks into place and I realize that there were actual witnesses to S's convoluted brownie-points shenanigan that I didn't consider.

"E," I say. "you are so fucking dead."

My friend group, who E had apparently told about my whole schtick as S's Rent-a-Girlfriend, breaks out into laughter and dodges as I power-walked my way to kick E's shins with the fury of a thousand 5'3 suns.

We went about the rest of our day until it hit lunch break, and of course who else to apparently wait for me in front of my class other than S himself.

S grabs me by the wrist and pulls me along throughout the campus. We're lightly conversing the whole time, me weaseling a time and date to my beloved reward tubs of ice cream as promised. Without me realizing it, we end up in front of two very familiar rooms.

Another thing, really quickly, about this whole storyline. S was not just an ordinary friend, you see. He was special, in a way, in such that his two closest friends were my crush (at the time) and his best friend who I'd recently rejected. Now those two have a whole 'nother story on their own which I'd deign to discuss publically, so you'll have to settle for those apt descriptions.

So, those two aforementioned mutual friends of ours walk out of those rooms and turn to make eye contact with us. They laugh, good-naturedly, and I sigh in relief because it seems that of all people, E had not gotten the hot gossip to them just yet.

I beckon the two of them over, being none the wiser and thinking we could take our break together when the final straw hits

S throws his arm over my shoulders and pulls me closer.

"Hey guys, Codi's my girlfriend now!"

... You can guess where the argument fits now in this timeline.

(I got my ice cream very shortly after. We're all friends now and it's all water under the bridge! This was a long story so if you've made it this far, just know that this is all but a funny memory to look back on for me and I've since moved on.)

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

bangs pots and pans together loudly FIC UPDATE COME GET YALL SOME JUICE

Apparently the vital, missing component to enjoying school was having a friend there. Go figure.

He and Kevin only have that first period class together, but they make the most of it, passing notes back and forth between the two of them, the teacher too tired that early in the morning to notice, or care. Lunch isn’t depressing anymore. They sit together under the shade tree, and Kevin does seem to also appreciate the view. “Can you even imagine working up a sweat, on purpose?” Betelgeuse pats his gut. “You know I can’t.”

“I can’t believe how little the track shorts are. That’s obscene. You think I’d look good in them?” “You join track and I’ll come to every meet, an’ it won’t be for th’ love of th’ sport.” He doesn’t think normal friends talk to each other like this, but he doesn’t actually know. Does everyone flirt with their friends? Are friends just cool people you wanna fuck but haven’t yet? Is it demon hormone bullshit, making him read into everything? Unclear.

It’s all going so good, until it isn’t, suddenly.

One lunch, two months into being there, Kevin pulls a huge and impressive old book from his backpack. “Look what I goooot,” he sing songs, waving it in Betelgeuse’s face, and he sneezes in response. “Smells old.” Emily and Lydia would love it. “It is. It’s very old,” Kevin confirms, and he moves so he’s sitting next to Betelgeuse, shoulder to shoulder, both their backs to the shade tree. “It’s about demons.”

Betelgeuse loses interest immediately, and focuses on not going pink at their shoulders touching, instead. “Z’at so?” he grunts. Kevin doesn’t seem to pick up on his moodiness, though. “It talks about all these ancient beings,” he explains, flipping pages. “Their summoning circles, their aspects,” he gives Betelgeuse a nudge at that, “all the things they can do for you, and the boons they grant.” He feels uncomfortable. “What’s with this? You obsessed with me, or somethin’?” He tries to play it as a joke, but that glint in Kevin’s eyes is back, and he doesn’t like it. “Of course, who wouldn’t be obsessed if they learned all this shit is actually true? It’s like there’s a whole secret world behind a locked door, and I’ve got the key.” Kevin looks back up at him.

He gets the feeling he’s the key. It’s not a good feeling.

“Where’d you even get this fuckin’ thing?” he lifts a finger, and the book slams closed in Kevin’s lap. His friend huffs. “Internet, of course.” “No, I mean… why were you lookin’ for somethin’ like this?” “I want to learn more. Don’t you?” Kev presses, and reopens the book. “I mean, what if there’s something amazing you can do, and you just don’t know, cause you’re not bothering to try?”

“So I’ll never know, so what?” Betelgeuse feels like this is a losing argument, but he tries anyways. “What’s so great about bein’ weird? You’re lucky you’re human.” “Dude, don’t even start with that. You can fly.” “So can humans,” he points out. “Wh- A plane and fucking levitating for fun are not the same, and you know it, BeetleJerk.” Kevin honestly can’t understand why he’s not excited over this. “I just mean… I’d rather be human, than this.” He blinks at his own words, because he’s never expressed that out loud before, ever. But it doesn’t feel untrue. “You’re out of your mind, more so than usual. Every human alive wants to feel special, and do the stuff you can do. Why are you acting like it’s so miserable all of a sudden? You use your powers all the time, I’ve seen you literally teleport five feet because you’re too lazy to walk.”

“You don’t get it.” He’s feeling sullen now, and he wiggles a little away from Kevin, and crosses his arms. “BJ, come on-” Betelgeuse teleports away to under the bleachers, and he eats his lunch there, until the bell rings.

He’s waiting for Emily after school, not feeling particularly friendly, when Kevin approaches. They stand there awkwardly. It feels tense, and weird, and he waits to see what the breather does. “Don’t be mad,” Kevin says, finally. “M’not mad.” “You sound mad.” “You know what mad on me looks like,” he finally turns to look at his friend, amber eyes burning with irritation. “First hand.”

Kevin looks down, and kicks at a rock that might not actually be there. “I thought you’d be excited. BJ, come on, I don’t wanna.. Not be friends over this.”

Betelgeuse signs, and scratches at the scruff on his chin. “It’s not like that,” he relents after a moment. “I just, I don’t care about that stuff. An’ I don’t wanna sit around, focusin’ on it. I don’t exactly like feelin’ different. Yeah, I do tricks an’ use my magic an’ stuff, but it’s hard to control. I lose my temper once an’ I could seriously destroy somethin’, or hurt my family. It doesn’t exactly feel good, knowin’ that. No one else my age can stand me, cause they can tell I’m weird. Before you, it was fuckin’ lonely, Kev.”

He feels a familiar pressure, because Kevin has taken his hand, and the human gives it a squeeze. He accepts it, melting a little against the other boy. “Still friends?” Kevin asks, and Betelgeuse purrs in response, resting his head on Kevin’s shoulder.

It’s not till later, at home, that he realizes Kevin never actually apologized.

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It’s like that, for a while. He knows Kevin still has the book. He knows he’s reading it, and sometimes Kevin will bring up demon stuff, but Betelgeuse has almost exactly a minute and a half of patience for answering questions or hearing about it. Still, Kev doesn’t stop. He might feel angrier if the breather wasn’t so god damn cute.

The air is starting to go cold, and leaves are beginning to fall. October is settling in, getting comfortable, and mom’s starting to break out the Halloween décor. It’s the middle of a kind of gloomy, Autumn day, when things get weird.

Kevin has the book open, much to Betelgeuse’s annoyance, and he’s blabbing away about a demon that supposedly grants wealth- “Do you think you could do that?” -when Betelgeuse looks down at the book, and sees Juno looking back at him. It’s not really her, it’s an illustration, but he’d recognize the bitch anywhere. She’s ink, glaring up from the page, those same age lines etched into her face, confirming his private theory that she’d been an old hag even when she was young. The slit neck is prominent, and as he stares, he sees smoke billow out of it. Oh, fuck no.

He grabs the book and slams it shut, startling Kevin, and then he teleports it directly under them, a mile down in the rock of the earth. Kev blinks for a moment, confused, before looking at his friend. “Wh.. Dude, WHAT?”

“Possessed book,” he croaks out, feeling tense, because he can smell cigarette smoke. “And you’re afraid of it? Why? You are also a literal fucking demon!” “That’s why I’m not messin’ with it!” Betelgeuse stands up, uneasy. The ground around the tree feels weird, now. He doesn’t like it here anymore. “Cause I actually understand why it’s a bad fuckin’ idea! God, you should have instincts that tell you not to mess with this stuff! You’re deficient, Kev, seriously.”

“Me deficient? Seriously?” Kev snaps, which hurts in a new, unexpected way. “Whatever, asshole. Give me my book back.” Kevin stands up, too, but he’s not uneasy, he’s angry.

“It’s better off where it is.”

“Which is where?”

Betelgeuse glances down. The grass around the tree is starting to wither. Kevin follows his gaze, but doesn’t seem to notice the dying vegetation. “You buried it? Come on!”

“Leave it, Kev.”

“This isn’t just your cool secret, anymore, it’s mine too!” Kevin glares at him. “You can’t keep me out of it, BJ. That’s not fair. God, at this point, I know more than you! You should be listening to me!”

He feels his volatile temper flare.

“Ex-fuckin’-scuze me?”

He waits for Kevin to take it back. Instead, his friend doubles down. “Demons have to listen to humans,” Kevin crosses his arms. “If they’re summoned. It’s in the book.” “Nobody summoned me,” Betelgeuse snarls, letting his real snake eyes show, an intimidation tactic that works for about half a second. Kevin’s too used to him, at this point. “I’m up here on a deal.” “Bet I could do it. I bet I could summon you. Then you’d have to listen to me.” “Yeah? Well, good luck without your stupid book!” He storms off, leaving Kevin standing there.

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The rest of the day sucks. He’s moody all day, annoyed in the car, grumpy in his room. He cranks metal and wishes he’d learned to play a guitar instead of his rinky, happy sounding ukulele. The instrument isn’t going to produce the noise he wants to express himself, right now. He throws it across the room, into a wall, where it smashes, and reforms a minute later, because… it’s still his favorite, after all. Even if it’s no good for expressing his teenage angst.

He can hear shuffling, and talking, outside his room, though he can’t make out what’s being said over the music. After a moment, though, there’s a knock at his door. “Hey, Bug?” Emily calls. “Can you come give me a hand with something?” He wants to tell her to piss off, go away, to leave him the hell alone, but.. It’s Emily. The CD player lets out a strangled choke and suddenly stops, and the door swings open, all without him moving from his flopped position on the bed. “Sup, ma?” he grunts. Emily peaks her head into the room, and smiles when she sees him, the expression radiating warmth and adoration and.. Oh, God/Satan, bless his sunbeam of a mother. “Just wondering if you’re free to do a little decorating?” She reaches behind her and grabs a fake severed bloody limb from the box he assumes she’s dragged into the hallway from the attic. “Don’t you worry it takes away from the “wow factor” to do Halloween twice a year?” He asks, standing and stretching, before apparating in the hallway behind her, and giving the decor box a nudge with his boot. “What? No way, there’s never enough Halloween!” Emily grins. “Get that, please.” The box floats along behind him as they head downstairs. They pause in the entryway, as Emily thinks out loud. “So, maybe the kitchen should be-” “Functional as a kitchen, please,” Charles calls from the living room. Emily rolls her eyes. “Okay, fine! Spoilsport! We’ll focus on the entryway for now,” she decides. “You wanna put up cobwebs in the rafters?” She gets on tiptoes to reach into the floating box, and he lowers it a bit for her, as she grabs the fake webbing. “I could just instantly decorate the whole room,” He takes to floating next to the box. “Could make sure it’s all normal human stuff, too,” He adds, before she can respond. “I know you can… But I like decorating,” Emily says brightly. “It’s not about getting it done quickly. It’s about, you know, doing it together.” “So why are dad and Lydia slacking?” Her smile doesn’t falter, but becomes softer. “It kinda felt like you needed some mom time, today,” She says simply. God, she can read him easier than Kev can read his stupid book. “We got in a fight,” he admits. She hums at that, because he only has one friend. It’s not hard to guess who he could possibly mean. “I’m sorry, Bug. What over?” He hesitates. So far he’s not let any of his family in on this book business. He’s been sort of hoping it could just go away on it’s own, and not be a thing. Kevin’s made it into a thing, though, and not telling even his mom feels… bad.

“He’s really into demons. Like, really, really into em,” He rasps, floating up and beginning to put up the spiderwebs, as his mother takes down the usual, sort of spooky wall hangings and trades them for her very intentionally spooky Halloween ones. “He’s got this book, an’ it’s all about demons an’ like, how to summon them, an’ their powers, an’ stuff… Sometimes th’ way he talks, it’s like.. Are we friends cause we’re friends, or friends cause you think I’m gonna be... useful?”

Maybe that doesn't make any sense, but that’s how it’s been feeling, like there’s an invisible shoe hanging midair, and it’s about to drop. His mother waits until he’s finished before looking up at him. “And you fought over that?” She prods. “Not exactly.” How the fuck can she even tell that, though? Damn her mom powers. He really, really didn’t want to talk about this, not to her, but… “I saw Juno. In th’ book,'' He lowers back down to the floor, and digs through the box, pulling out fake body parts. Back up he goes, to stick these in the fake webbing. “It was just a drawing of her, but it started like.. Billowing smoke-”

“From the neck,” His mother remembers, suppressing a shudder.

“Yeah. I could smell the smoke. So I got rid of the book, buried it in th’ school yard, but Kev got all pissy about it. He thinks he’s an expert on this shit, an’ he’s gonna mess with somethin’ big if he keeps this up.” “I’m sure you’ve told him that.” “He doesn’t listen. He gets this look in his eye, like it’s a game, or like… I dunno. Feels sometimes like he thinks he’s…” He searches for the words. “Like he thinks he oughta be the boss a’me, or somethin’.”

He rubs absentmindedly at the moss on his nose. It clings, stubborn as ever, same with the patches by his hairline, and he’s found it’s easier to just add another little layer to his glamour than try to do anything about it.

Maybe that’s indicative of a bigger problem. It’s easier to do a bit of magic and make everything look better than to actually fix the underlying problem. Ugh, introspection, how absolutely miserable. He wants to keep thoughts like that locked away tight, but they have a habit of slipping past his mental defenses and making him feel worse. Absolutely no one can make him feel shittier than he himself can. He sinks to the ground, going purple, and he’s instantly wrapped in his mother’s arms. “It’s okay, Beetlejuice,” Emily has both her hands on the back of his head, and he pushes his face into the crook of her neck. “I just.. I’ve only got the one friend,” he groans. “I don’t wanna stop bein’ his friend, but.. Fuck, ma.”

“I know.” Her voice is a soothing balm. She works her hands through the mess of purple hair at the back of his head. “I know, sweetheart. I know it’s lonely at school, but school isn’t forever,” she tries to assure him. “If your friend is treating you this way, well.. He’s not a very good friend. Do you want to be around someone who makes you feel this bad? Does it feel worth it, to you?”

He knows the correct answer is, “No,” but he’s not sure if his self esteem is high enough for that.

“I like him a lot,” He grumbles, and she hums again. “He’s handsome,” She says, and then pulls back far enough to pinch his nose. “But not as handsome as my son, of course,” and it’s silly enough to help knock away his mood, so that’s something, at least. “What should I do?” He doesn’t pull away from her, just soaks up the mom energy for as long as he can. “I think you need to have a talk,” Emily tells him. “Lay out how you’re feeling. Try to get his side of things, and make sure he hears your side, too. Then, at least you both tried, you know?”

It’s such a mom type answer. He groans again.

“I was worried you’d say some shit like that.” She fuzzes his hair, and he feels the tingle in his scalp that means it’s changed colors. Back to green, he assumes. “You know your moss changes color along with your hair? And your creepo-stache?” “Leave the stache alone, it’s tryin’ it’s best,” He pretends to be defensive.

“It makes you look like the founder of a forum for people who marry their cars,” Lydia offers, from the bottom step of the staircase, where she has apparently been just chilling and listening.

“Wh-! Mom, it’s not that bad, right?” Emily tilts her head to the side and gives what can only be described as a condescending smile. “Oh, you’re both in for it now.” He brings the various decor items to life to terrorize them, and then Charles joins his side, sympathizing with his son vis-à-vis bad teenage facial hair, and by the time the whole squabble is over, hardly any decorating has gotten done… But he does feel better. His family’s good like that.

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Monday rolls around, same as it always does, but there’s a weird feeling in the air. Halloween is a week away, barely missing getting a weekend date, but there’s some big Halloween bash the school is apparently throwing. There’s fliers for it everywhere, plastered all over lockers and bulletin boards. He’s not much of a participator, though, and his reaction to his locker being plastered over with invites to a party he doesn't care about is to snap his fingers. All the fliers on all the lockers up and down the hall, all instantly fall loose at once, littering the floor. A few students jump back, but no one looks his way, because why would they?

He’s grabbing his history textbook when he feels a tap on the shoulder, and when he turns, it’s a girl he recognizes, but her name is absolutely lost on him.

“You’re BJ, right?” Miffy askes, and he nods. “Yeah, s’right,” and Margo seems to wince at how gruff his voice is, before continuing. “Um, you and that guy Kevin, you’re like…” Milicent trails off, waiting for him to finish her thought, but sorry, baby, he can barely finish his own. “Like…?” He says, with his gravel voice copying her tone and inflection, and she huffs. “Together?” Marge asks, “Like, all of the time?”

He cocks his head, and squints at her, hands t-rexing at his sides, as Lydia likes to say.\

“Usually,” He concedes, and he gets the feeling he’s dragging this out much, much more than Mango clearly wants, because he spies a group of girls a little ways off, waiting for her. One of them is staring intently, more focused on him, but he pushes that thought aside.

“Look, okay, he’s gonna be out for a few days, and I’m just trying to see if you can take him his homework,” McGrubber has grown tired of having to stand here, talking to the chubby goth loser, apparently. “I’m a student aid in the office and they’re trying to make me do it, but I have track practice!” Thaaaat’s where he knows her from. She looks different, not bouncing and sweating and also not half a football field away. “Sure, fine, I’ll make sure Kev gets his work. Wouldn’t want you to miss out on running in a fuckin’ circle, Maria.” Her face sours. “It’s Blair.” So close. “Who fuckin’ cares,” He replies, and turns back to his locker. He can hear her rejoin her friend group, all of them fawning over her harrowing experience of having to speak to him in public. The last thing he hears from Blair is, “He’s just so goddamn weird,” and then the group rounds the corner.

He closes his locker harder than he maybe needs to.

Kevin isn’t in class that day, or the next, or even the one after. The shade tree has withered and died completely, it’s color sapped and gone, and even walking near it makes him feel uneasy. His new lonely lunch spot is under the bleachers, which feels even more voyeuristic of a spot to watch the track team, but even that activity feels tainted, somehow. He’s back to being lonely.

He can’t stand being lonely.

It gets so bad he contemplates sitting, wait for it, on the bleachers, and maybe even trying to strike up a conversation, but he’s too chicken shit. He’s been going to school with these kids for the past three years, and no one’s wanted to talk to him or chat with him in all that time. He can’t imagine that’s about to change.

Still, on Thursday, miserable and lonely, he gives it a try.

Sitting up here sucks. It’s just a hard metal seat on a gloomy day, and when he’d ventured up and sat down, other people had slowly moved away from him, until he was sitting by himself, all the breathers huddled in a different area, away from him. He'd tried talking, but hardly had a "Hey, how ya doin'?" grated out before the migration began.

Figures.

He finishes eating and lies on his back, resting his hands on his chest, eyes closed, and after a while he feels someone standing over him, and something laid over his hands. He opens his eyes. There’s the most beautiful girl staring down at him. She’s got long, bleach blonde hair, darker at the roots, which is hanging down in a halo around her face, and the biggest, clearest blue eyes he’s ever seen. He glances down, to see she’s placed a daisy over his hand. He looks back up at her, amber eyes questioning.

“You looked so still,” She smiles. Her voice is like music. He thinks he can hear harps. “With your hands folded like that. Kind of like an open casket.” He’d been forgetting to breathe, apparently, which happens sometimes. She thought he looked like a corpse, and she placed a flower over him.

“Sorry, if that’s weird. You’re.. BJ?” She asks, and he picks up the daisy, sits up, and nods. “Yeah, you’re…” “Barbara,” she fills him in. “You’re not so good with names.” “Mmm. Buffy tell you that?” He recognizes her now, from that group of girls. Barbara sits next to him, which makes zero sense. “It’s Blair,” she corrects him gently, but not without a giggle in her voice. “Oh, right.” Her name could be fuckin’ Moonpie and it’d make the same amount of difference to him, but he’d agree with anything Barbara said, if it meant she kept sitting there, talking to him. “Are you going to the Halloween party?” She asks. “Supposed to be pretty killer. It kind of seems like your scene.” “I’m not exactly a social butterfly,” which is the understatement of the god damn century, honestly, but she laughs and nudges her shoulder with his. “Well, I think you should come. I bet you’d have the coolest costume. Maybe think about it?”

“I guess, maybe..” He says lamely, because his brain is short circuiting from that small touch.

“Barb, come on!” someone calls to her from a ways away, on the track. Lunch is nearly over. She stands, and smooths down the long skirt she’s wearing, which is modest but flattering. “Later, BJ,” she smiles, and just like that, she’s gone, like an angel going back up to heaven in a beam of light, off to rejoin her friends. He can hear what she says to them, though. “You guys are mean, he’s not so bad. Just shy.”

He keeps the daisy in a little glass of water on his dresser, and strums love songs on his ukulele.

```````````````````````````````````````````````````````

Thinking about Barbara and her smile and the way she nudged him is a fun distraction, at least for a little while, but when it’s Saturday, and he still hasn’t heard from Kevin, he decides it’s time to demon up and see what the fuck is happening with him. He’s been just teleporting Kev’s homework inside his room, and he’s sure it’s falling into a pile on the floor each time and startling him, but no one ever said how he had to deliver it. Today though, emboldened by the pretty girl on the bleachers, he appears at Kevin’s front door instead, holding Friday’s work, and he knocks. It takes a moment, but Mr. Loh answers.

Betelgeuse hasn’t had much chance to interact with Kev’s dad. He looks like a normal, tired dad, wholly unimpressive, and kinda short. Chuck could wrestle this guy to the mat, no problem.

“Oh, BJ,” Mr. Loh says, and then glances at what’s in his hands. “Kevin’s homework? Thank you. He’s holed up in his room… won’t come out.. Maybe,” and he suddenly looks hopeful. “You two are friends. Maybe you can try talking to him?”

Well, that’s what he was there to do anyways, so sure. “I gotcha, Mr. L,” he nods, stepping inside, and heading up the stairs and down the hall to Kevin’s room. The closer he gets to the door, though, the weirder he feels. Something stinks, figuratively and literally. It smells like… It smells like the waiting room. It’s that same, veil is thin type air that he can smell on Halloween night, but how the fuck is he smelling it here? He bangs on Kevin’s door. “Hey, Kev, it’s the B-Man,” he calls, trying to keep his tone playful, but he feels like he’s doing a poor job. What the hell is going on? “Come on, man, open up!” He tries again, when he receives no response. He thinks he can hear a shuffle behind the door. “Dude, I will bust this fuckin’ door down,” He growls, all the play gone from his tone. “You know I will. Better yet-”

He appears inside the bedroom, just in time for Kevin to slam shut the closet door. Kevin turns to look at him, back pressed to the wood. There’s a beat, both teens staring at each other, wide eyed, Betelgeuse in that weird way he does, and Kevin looking frazzled. “What,” the demon grates out, “the fuck, are you getting up to in here? It smells like the netherworld, Kev.” Unfortunately, that makes Kevin’s face light up. “It does? Oh my god, that’s perfect! It must be starting to work!” He crosses the bedroom, going to his desk, where an old book is sitting open. It’s not the same one he took from his friend, it can’t be, that book is still a mile down in presumably solid rock. “Another musty ass tome, great,” he growls, but Kevin ignores him, flipping through the book.

He hates feeling ignored.

A black and white striped arm sprouts from Kevin’s desk, and slams the book shut, which makes the breather turn and glare at him. “Get out of my room, BJ,” is all Kevin says, and Betelgeuse ignores that, instead crossing the floor to get a look at that book. “Where th’ hell do you keep finding these fuckin’ things?”

“This one I bought from a one armed man living out of a 1973 Oldsmobile Delta 88 Royale,” Kevin recites. Betelgeuse squints at him, top teeth over bottom lip. “You’re too gay to know what that means,” he says, plainly, and Kevin shrugs. “He wouldn’t stop talking about his stupid car. I now know more about that antique than I know about geography.” It feels fun, for a second, like this drama isn’t happening, and they’re just having a conversation. It doesn’t last, though. He can’t let Kev off the hook.

“So you bought a second cursed book, this time from some amputee homeless guy, and you’re just, doing the rituals inside of it? And this seems like a super good idea to you?”

“I’m practicing,” Kevin replies.

“So what’s in the closet, Kevin?”

“Get out of my room, Betelgeuse.”

The way Kevin says his name is weird. It doesn’t feel like how it normally feels when a breather says the full thing. He shakes it off, and gives his friend a defiant look, before waving a hand and throwing open the closet door. There’s a cleared spot, in the middle of the closet floor, and a fucking summoning circle in what smells like, “Pig’s blood? Couldn’t get human?” He turns to look at Kevin, who is glaring at him intently. He matches the look.

“Betelgeuse Shoggoth, get out of my room.”

That gets his attention. It feels like an invisible hand is pushing him, and he stumbles back out of the room, confused. “W-what?” Kevin is just standing there, staring at him, and Betelgeuse stares back, eyes wild. “You motherfucker,” he hisses, eyes in snake slits, teeth sharp, claws extended. “You wanna do that “real name” bullshit with me? That the choice you’re makin’ here, Kev?”

Kevin doesn’t even look phased. “I’m working on gaining a bit more control, but looks like that works, for now.”

“You’re cracked!” Betelgeuse growls, absolutely furious. “You’re really tryin’ to summon me? Are you out of your head!?”

“You’re wasting your powers,” Kevin storms forward. “You’re a supernatural being, and you go to school and play your stupid ukulele, and don’t even try to do anything bigger. You could be stepping on everyone under you,” his former friend is going red in the face. “You could be leading, you could be ruling, but you just jerk off in your room and play pretend at being human. But someone might as well profit, here. Why not me?”

“I thought.. I thought we were friends,” is all the demon can say, lamely, and Kevin’s smile is the meanest thing he’s ever seen on a breather. “Once you’re fully listening to me, we can be friends again. Betelgeuse Shoggoth, get out of my house.”

He feels that same invisible pull, and he thinks maybe if he was stronger he could resist it, but a demon’s true name is like a lead on a dog, meant to control them, and unfortunately, Kevin has a tight hand on his leash. He makes it to the front door, and stumbles out, covering his face until he can calm himself enough to reapply his glamour.

Shit, he thinks, straightening up, and staring up at Kevin’s bedroom window. He is so fucked. ``````````````````````````````````````````````` Posted this chapter and another over at Ao3. You can read it right here

[oh-for-fic-sake]

I Just Move Things

Whilst looking through luthors drives the league find a new metahuman who is to powerfull for her own good.

Masterlist

Warnings: swearing

A/n:So this is a new series of imagines with Justice league/ teen reader obviously no smut but fluff angst and everything in between i know that the pic is starlight but that’s there more for the eyes.

(not my gif/pic)

I Just Move Things

"Seriously this girl, shes incredible, Lex didn’t have much on her he only just got the footage a day or so before the whole supes vs bat thing but we are soo lucky she wasn't involved, if she uses her head she could probably wipe all of us out, we need to get here to join" Barry was giddy as he started gushing over the new mysterious metahuman who was a prime candidate for the justice league. Arthur sighed crossing his arms

"Oh really? I'm sorry but I don't see how that tiny thing could do much damage wheres her weapon?" He said unconvinced Bruce and Clark agreed somewhat looking at the photo victor had pulled up on the screen a girl who looked around sixteen sitting at a table outside a Starbucks reading a book, she looked like a typical teenager, no muscle definition to her small form, so obviously had no combat training she looked like a regular man could snap her in two, easy to over power. Victor sighed at them.

"Looks can be deceiving every thing you see in that photo is her weapon, the ground, the air, the glass in the window behind her even the chair she's sitting on she could use all of these to impale you if she wanted to ,its quite incredible watch her here look at this video." The clip was grainy showing the inside of a corner shop, she was standing by the counter blowing bubbles in her gum paying for a small bag of groceries when a man came in holding a gun screaming at the girl at the register who quickly turned around to the cash register fumbling trying to open the cash draw as he shouted pointing the gun at her making her scream and struggle even more. The teen in question moved only to be ordered to put both her hands on the counter, she did so but as soon as she did looked over her shoulder to the door blowing yet another bubble letting it pop she was very calm for a young girl who had a gun in her face she huffed took a deep breath you could see her eyes light up a little and the metal frame above the door caved in enough to hold it closed trapping them inside, neither of the others noticed to preoccupied quickly she slid a tin can into her hand and looked at the gun tilted her head to the side eyes flickering once again and the barrel caved in on itself looking like someone had pinched the end closing the hole completely making it useless, no bullets would be firing from the weapon the man when to scream confused but was struck in the temple by the can of beans dropping to the floor in a crumpled heap she kicked the gun away in case he got up. The cashier looked around crying in relief as she saw the thief had been knocked unconscious and with a quick look the metal frame quickly snapped back to its original state. She exchanged a few words with the girl who was now on the phone to the police nodding towards the security camera  the surprised she looked up you could see her curse as she looked into the lenses a grim expression eyes flashing and the video cut off, she had broke it trying to cover herself. Silence washed over the group as they came to terms with what they saw. Clark was the first to break it

"That was, different she helped tho that is a good thing she wants to do good. To protect people" Bruce spoke up next

"She didn't take chances, but that ability, what she can do its not something to take lightly, we don't know the extent of it can she do other things?" The question was directed at victor who had been scouring the cities surveillance for her.

"I've caught her a few times on cctv doing things, she practices at night around Gotham docks. And its amazing to watch, so far from what I can tell its molecular based, solids liquids and gases. I've seen her change the shape of containers, fix broken glass, she can't fly but seems she has just started to make invisible platforms to stand on and climb and when she fell she managed to make the ground sort of turn sand like to make her fall softer and she doesn't even seem to do it consciously it just sort of happens once she got up it settled like water becoming regular concrete again. Where ever she got the gift it hasn't been long, she is still trying to control them, small things are easier, like the gun and the door, but the first time she made the invisible stairs she got a nosebleed and passed out I lost her for a few weeks but when I found her again she did it again, must have practiced somewhere else as she only got a little nose bleed and didn't pass out just got dizzy" Diana sat there contemplating

"So basically this incredible power is wrapped up in a hormonal teenager  who doesn't know how to use it yet, she is still trying to figure out what she can and cant do? And no doubt soon will start testing her limits? Bruce we need to pull her in now we can't waste any time she could hurt herself or someone else" Barry nodded they all shared a look agreeing. Time to bring her in.

"Where is she?"

"She will be at the docks again tonight around nine o'clock, she has a pattern its like clock work, docks ,chemical factory and just recently started down under the main bridge towards Metropolis playing around with water". They nodded she seemed shy Clark showing up could scare her same with Diana, Barry wouldn't be a good idea he tended to fumble his words and Arthur was well Arthur. In the end it was decided Bruce would go do the talking, after all Gotham was his turf.

Well shit gonna be hard to explain this one.... you looked down sighing it was very typical tho well for you any way. You see you had a problem, or should you say gift, you could move things not just the whole abracadabra Matilda floating thing, you could move things on a molecular level..... like clay everything is clay. After practicing you now know that you can break down solids into teeny tiny grains like sand using it as sinking sand or putting it back together in a new shape and recently discovered you could pull all the teeny tiny molecules in the air together really tight it becomes an invisible force field type thingy like an instant piece of bullet proof glass, or like a platform to stand on . It was cool but difficult to control some things more then others, for instance solids where the molecules are pack tighter are easier to manipulate then water where they are all moving then air that was tricky they were fast and hard to control. And there was limitations you couldn't change anything living or growing, no plants, no animals and consequently no people. You cant heal people which you learned the hard way after cutting yourself for the sole purpose of sewing it back up nope didn't work and you wished you'd don't a shallower cut knowing it was going to leave a scar. Which sucks, but you can control the air in their lungs technically it wasn't apart of them. Loopholes, there is always a loophole. But you can fix things, like a crack phone screens burst pipes you just had to stretch things a bit or zip them up. Which brings us to this little mishap. How the fuck can you explain this, you had been trying to feel the air. You felt with your powers you liked to think of it as ripples you know like when you wave one hand under water you can feel the ripples hit the other? It was like that except you felt what the ripple hit. Kind of strange but that was the best you could come up with. So hear you was scratching your head looking at a half sunk boat, now you may be thinking boats sink all the time whats the problem?.... well normally boats sink in water not solid concrete, you had been trying to feel your ripples and pull the air below a small boat making it 'levitate' but lost your cool dropped the fucking thing panicked tried catching it and wham bam thank you ma'am boat is now half sticking out of the dock floor with a broken window. You looked up into the sky.

"Really? As if my life wasn't already a joke you gotta throw bad luck in the mix to?" You quickly closed your eyes willing the glass to reform feeling each the large pieces lift joining them selves back together slowly setting them back into the frame concentrating in 'zipping up' the seams at such a microscopic level no one would know any better. Once finished you opened your eyes, boat was still in the ground but the window was back in place. 'Yay go me' You smiled, you may not have achieved your goal of safely moving the boat but you did fix the window you broke. You sighed trying to pull the thing up again but stopped when you heard a large ominous crunching sound coming from the hull. You jumped growling pulling at you hair near your scalp.

"No no no no no this is not meant to happen just fucking move! Move up damn it!"

"Need some help?" You screamed jumping  turning around as the ground flicked up around your feet creating a small knee high spikes pointing between you and Batman?. You took a step back quickly stomping the small barrier away

"Err no no I err just out for a nice stroll haha." He hummed unconvinced looking at the boat sticking out of the ground you followed his gaze chuckling nervously scratching at your chin

".....that was like that when I got here....... I mean you see some weird shit in Gotham huh?" He looked back at you.

"I already know about your gift, you can't control it yet?" You gasped taking another step back

"Gift? What gift nope no sir-y no gifts round here."

"So I didn't just watch you drop a boat into concrete and fix the window on it?" You blinked slowly at him then heaved a heavy sigh stuffing your hand in your pockets.

"Y-you saw that? Shit I didn't mean to, I promise its just hard and i just want to stop doing things on accident....then other accidents happen a vicious cycle really" You said waving over the little accident. He nodded

"I believe you, but you were panicking, concentrate try making it sand again then harden from the bottom push up like layers like your filling in a hole go from the bottom up" you looked at him a little shocked but nodded looking at the boat feeling around beneath it with your 'ripples' making the concrete go lax hearing the hiss of it as it became loose grains before pushing up hardening thin layers from the bottom finally bringing it to the surface. You smiled happy at fixing your problem. He smirked seeing you giddy from your achievement.

"Wow thank you that helped a lot I would have been here all night before figuring that out." He nodded

"Your welcome, I'm glad I found you, we have been watching you for a while, we would like to talk to you"

"We?" You asked not really understanding

"The Justice league, you have a strong ability that we think would be useful and we wanted to see if we can help you control it we can give you training in combat weapons and hand to hand which ever you prefer." You looked at him jaw hanging open

"Your joking? You've gotta be, I just move things not really worthy of being up there with you guys,but I don't want to be used then thrown away but thanks for the help" you said turning to walk away he frowned

"We wont please you can trust us" he said reaching out quickly holding an arm dragging you back a little making you gasp and jump he then winced hissing as a thin spike quickly pierced the side of his hand that held you, you panicked.

"OH MY GOD! I'm sorry I didn't mean to! it just happens when I get scared or startled!" You quickly pushed the spike down grabbing his hand and twisting it with trembling hands hope he didn't beat the shit out of you, you'd basically just attacked him.

"Erm please stay still there are a few bits in there" you said before pulling at the little pieces of debris from the small puncture hole, when you react on instinct it doesn't end up as put together as when you actively control things hence little bits falling off and such.

"Your powers are strong I don't think your fully aware of what your capable of crushing a gun with a look is just the start, just give us a chance trust us"You let go of him hugging yourself taking a step back you felt bad you didn't mean you stood looking down waiting to see if he was angry, he seemed more sympathetic.

"Its not that I don't trust you, fuck how can I not I'm just....scared, you don't know the things I've done.....I could accidentally kill one of you then what? Be hunted down by you guys? I'm not indestructible I'm human and I haven't got control of it.... I don't even know what it is.....but its probably about time I found out I suppose I just simplify it so I don't you know....loose my nerve, bad things happen when that happens , its always frightened me... if-if I did come with you what do you guys get out of helping me? There’s always a price" he regarded you carefully he could see the fear the uncertainty in your voice it made you seem younger ,smaller lost he could tell you wanted to find somewhere to go, to find a home base and people who understood a bit like Barry in that sense he sighed smiling softly before speaking.

"Hopefully a team mate, one day someone will come and pick another fight and when they do we need to be ready, to have people we can call on to help, your strong a lot stronger then you realize this gift it-its probably made you one of the strongest metahumans on the planet,even superman was a little concerned of  encountering you that's why I'm here he chickened out." You giggled a little and he smiled relaxing, you were a good kid he could tell just scared and lost the league would be good for you give you direction.

"Really? I'm pretty sure I've got more reason to be wary of him" he smiled a little "The point is your strong and will only get stronger ,your still just learning about it we want help you, give you a safe place to learn how to control it, test your limits. Your a good kid I can see you want to help and we will give you the opportunities to do that." You nodded it did sound good, the chance to practice using this gift away from people, in a safe and controlled environment the only people around would be able to dodge and escape if things did go wrong you looked at your hands for a moment.

"...You'd really help me?"he nodded

"Not just you but we will also help protect those closest to you" you looked away

"Don’t have anyone." He stopped at that

"What? Your alone?" You shrugged nodding throwing your bag on your shoulder

"You mean family right? Don’t have one I told you bad things happen when I loose my control, I just have foster homes well had I left,better off on my own" you held his gaze you were testing him, letting him know exactly what you'd done with out saying the words guard up and waiting to see if he'd try to over power you or change his mind. He didn't know what to say to that, he could hear the others through the comms warning him to back off asking if he wanted back up, he ignored them you had killed them accidentally that much was clear. You had no one he couldn't imagine just what you had been through, but he also knew this was a test he had done it himself when he was younger, you were waiting to see if he would judge you or leave you here alone, the others wont understand that’s why they were panicking telling him to leave if he did  you'd never trust them again something none of them could risk, but it was also your way of trying to push them away. He shook his head coming closer slowing when your eyes began to glow and the floor rippled beneath his feet he raised his hands slowly the others were shouting down the line at him but you was getting defensive not readying for an attack.

"That’s why we want to help you, so nothing like that happens again I cant imagine what you've been through or what it was like but you don't have to be alone anymore or be scared" you believed him, something told you he understood pulling back from the concrete, he had plenty of time to attack you but didn't.

"And you wont be mad if I break something?" He shook his head releasing a breath he wasn't aware he was holding

"If you break something you can keep practicing until you fix it" you contemplated for a second.

"Okay then but just to see if I can fit in, don't let them make me jump.....I don't wanna shank them....you got off lightly it was aiming to go straight threw to your face... I sort of caught it a little" Bruce tensed but quickly controlled himself, the last thing you needed was to see he was slightly afraid of your gift it could feed your own fear.

"They already know, they've been watching in case they needed to help if things went bad its up to you" you gulped and nodded a little as he began walking away you hesitated looking the opposite way you could run, forget this whole meeting and leave, you sighed watching his back you had no doubt he was giving you the chance to leave you took a deep breath they could help and if it does become a con you would find a way to leave and disappear nodding you quickly jogged up behind him following him to the bat mobile he opened the back revealing two seats.

"This thing has extra seats?" He smirked down at you

"Well this one does some of the others don't." You tilted your head

"How many of them do you have?" He chuckled as you slid into the seat

"Quite a few buckle up and hold on" he said nodding the the strategically placed grab rails the shut the door a few seconds later you were moving. You shivered a little nervous you didn't think it was a bad thing to go and train somewhere more secure but one mistake and you could easily become an enemy and contrary to what they may believe you couldn't take any of them on you was still a human you still bled. You sighed leaning back a little resting your head on the seat behind you as he drove you god knows where.

[schnoogles]

pterolycus: the winged wolf written for the @jonsa-halloween event! Day 4: Monsters/Quotes Read on Ao3

“The Northern girl. Winterfell’s daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leathery wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window.” What if Sansa did have the magic to change into a wolf with big bat-like leathery wings? But set in a modern au! In this modern with magic au, there’s a secret coven of teenage witches that Sansa and Margaery are a part of, and they get into all kinds of fun ;) After knowing him for so long and dating him, Sansa has told Jon everything about her being a witch. It’s just a good time folks 😂

Present time, Monday, 8am

Sansa was gathering her books from her locker. It was a Monday morning and she was tired and exhausted but school doesn’t care about that. She had a long weekend. Did she regret it though? Absolutely not. Once she had everything she needed, she closed her locker door and flinched back in surprise. Leaning up against the other side was none other than Jon Snow.

Sansa held a hand to her heart. She was a little jumpy this morning. “Seven Hells, Jon!” 

The boy in question just smirked at her. “Hi, honey.” 

She rolled her eyes and walked past him. Jon, not ready to go to class yet, followed.

“You know, I heard the most interesting rumor earlier,” he said, casually throwing an arm over her shoulders, “Have you heard it? It was about a certain ex boyfriend of yours. Joffrey Baratheon.” Ah yes. Joffrey Baratheon. The boy and his family had moved up North just last year and Sansa was immediately smitten by his pretty words. Unfortunately for her, she found out the hard way what a complete ass he was. “Ring any bells?”

If Jon wasn’t looking so intently at her, he wouldn’t have seen the corner of Sansa’s mouth twitch. “Can’t say that I have. What rumors would that be?” 

“Apparently, after the party Saturday night, he showed up at his house at nearly five in the morning the next day and was completely incoherent. And practically naked. Started screaming like a banshee and saying things like ‘It was a flying wolf-bat!’ and ‘She turned into a monster!’ It caused such the commotion that the whole block woke up. He was spazzing so hard that-”

Sansa tsked at Jon. “You know how I feel about that word Jon.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry, that was ableist of me.”

“Thank you.”

“Anyways, so he was… acting really paranoid, right? Kept looking around as if something would pop up and eat him.” Jon smiled as he continued, “and he wouldn’t let Cersei bring him inside the house, insisting that they take him to the police. ‘Hello yes I would like to make a report: a monster attacked me and took my clothes!’ Can you imagine how that would go?” At this point, Jon couldn’t stop chuckling. If asked, Sansa would say that his laughter was contagious and that’s why she smiled. It’s not like she was there to see the half-naked Joffrey running off.

The night before, Sunday, 2am

Jon gave his girlfriend one more long lasting kiss. “Do you have to do it tonight?” he mumbled into her mouth. Sansa giggled.

“Yes, Jon. And it’s already the hour of the wolf, I should’ve gone back ages ago.” As she made to move out from under him, he grabbed at her waist and snuggled closer.

“Yes yes, your witching hour approaches,” Jon sighed. Then he looked at her mischievously. “One more time? Aren’t orgasms supposed to enhance your powers or something?”

At that, Sansa couldn’t help but laugh. “Stranger take me, I’m not going to be performing sex magic!”

“Oh, no?” Jon began trailing kisses down her neck, each one slower and softer than the last. “That’s too bad.”

Sansa sighed at his ministrations. “Yup. Just your standard shifting spell. And… I should… really… I should really go soon. Margie will be waiting.” Despite her words, she made no move to stop Jon’s attentions on her. In fact, she seemed to hold on to him tighter. When Jon’s mouth continued moving lower and lower, she gave in. “Maybe one more won’t hurt.”

“One more. For the road.” He started kissing and sucking in all the right places. 

Sansa huffed a laugh. “Yeah. For the road.” She started to moan, her body was being filled with a different kind of magic just then.

Three days ago, Friday, 1pm

“Sansa, Margaery is here!” Sansa opened an eye. She was hoping she just imagined her mother calling her, but she heard another shout for her name. With a groan, she blew out the candles and went to see what Margaery Tyrell wanted. Sansa had a very strange friendship with the girl. When Joffrey broke up with her last year, Sansa was secretly happy. That didn’t stop the sting that she felt when she found out Margaery started dating him a few weeks later though. But that was neither here nor there. She broke up with him for his younger, kinder brother, Tommen.

“Hey Marge,” she greeted her friend. She took one good look at the brunette’s appearance and frowned. Something was wrong. 

Margaery gave her a small smile and asked, “Hey Sans, can we talk?” Sansa nodded and gestured for her to follow up the stairs. When they walked in her bedroom, Sansa swore. She forgot to clean up. 

“Oh! Did I interrupt?” Margaery smirked at her.

 “Just some new incantations I was trying out. You know. So what’s up buttercup?”

Margaery hesitated. She wouldn’t look Sansa in the eye and kept wringing her hands, like she just realized being here was a bad idea. Despite their history, Sansa still cared for her friend. “Margie? What happened?”

“I’m sorry,” Margaery sniffled, “I’m sorry I dated Joff. I know it was a shitty thing to do and I don’t think I ever properly apol-”

“Whoa, Margaery,” Sansa raised her hands, as if she were presenting herself as non threatening to the other girl. “That was ages ago. Thought we were passed that.” Sansa smiled then. “And honestly it was kind of the best thing that happened to me.”

“Yeah,” Margaery nodded, “You and Jon are so lucky to have each other.” 

Sansa tilted her head, “So are you and Tommen. Unless…?”

“No! No, we’re still very much happy. It’s just…” she trailed off, not sure how to explain. But Sansa knew what she was trying to say.

“It’s just hard when your current boyfriend is brothers with your ex?”

Margaery laughed in a self-deprecated manner, “I sure know how to pick them, right?”

“Hey. Tommen’s good for you.” With that reassurance out of the way, Sansa asked, “So that can’t be why you came here though. What happened?”

“Right. Well I ran into Joff when I was over at Tommen’s. Surprised it took so long really, it was bound to happen.”

“Damn. Did he say something?”

“He said lots of somethings,” her jaw clenched at the memory of what happened. “I believe the words ‘slut’ and ‘easy’ were in the mix.”

“Fucking hell.”

“Yeah.” Margaery scoffed, “Then he asked if I was going for Renly next seeing as Loras and I always share everything.” She looked up at Sansa. “You told me he was a monster and I didn’t listen. You’re really the only one who would understand and I needed someone to talk about this with.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Sansa raised her hand and a book came flying to it. “How bout we teach the little shit a thing or two about what real monsters look like?”

The night before, Sunday 4am

Sansa climbed through the window to Jon’s room. The one he conveniently left open for her. She thought he’d be asleep, but he wasn’t. “Oh? Back so soon already? How’d it go?” She undressed and got under the blankets and snuggled with him. 

“It went rather well if I do say so myself.” Sansa was smug. “You know how I’ve been practicing my shapeshifting?”

Jon lifted a brow in interest. “Yeah. Did you finally nail it down?”

“Nope! But it was a blessing in disguise. I couldn’t manage to concentrate properly so I ended up as a wolf with bat wings,” she laughed, “It was utterly terrifying if I’m being honest.” 

She went on to explain to Jon how they had managed to trick Joffrey into thinking he would be meeting Marge for a secret rendezvous. How Margaery had been manipulating the plants in her garden to snag at his clothes. How, because of Joff’s fear of wolves, the original plan was for her to change into one and scare him senseless. She told him how Joffrey started to get impatient and called for “the slut to come out” and how Sansa saw red. Her lack of focus caused her to briefly shift back and she panicked and tried to turn back into a wolf, only her concentration was off and she sprouted bat wings. The confusion of what she did made her freak out just a bit and so she spread her wings out and let out a ferocious growl, all the while facing Joffrey, who then wet his pants. By the end of her recap, Jon was in tears.

“Mother have mercy he peed his pants? How fucking embarrassing.”

Present time, Monday, 8am

“Hey guys,” Margaery greeted, “Wild rumors today, right?”

The three of them shared knowing looks.

“You know Sansa, I was thinking, and I’m pretty sure I figured out why you-” she leaned in and lowered her voice, “-shifted back and to a monster so fast.” Margaery straightened her back and smirked at them. When Sansa gave her a questioning look, she continued, “Did you know orgasms don’t just enhance the magic for sex rituals? They’re very good for all sorts of magics. The release of chemicals and hormones in a female, you know?” With one last knowing look, she left the two of them and continued on her way. 

“A monster, hmm?” Jon teased.

“Oh shut up. Go to class Jon.”

Before he left though, Jon leaned in and he whispered in her ear, “I think I like that idea. My girl’s a monster in the streets and I’ll be the monster in the sheets.” With a final wink, he walked away, leaving a very breathless Sansa standing in the halls. 

Oh, she’ll show him a monster in the sheets.

[eldri-sv]

26 - Aizawa

Kaori Shinsou has always been fascinated by people’s minds. She is one of the best students in her Criminal Psychology course at U.A. and - being the lucky girl she is - her professor is not only one handsome dude, but is also working on the case of the serial killer Stain - a case that has been going on for years. As she is about to become Professor Aizawa’s TA during the next term, a lot of other interesting cases start popping up all over the country…

Deep down we both knew it was trouble by design

(Cage The Elephant - Too Late To Say Goodbye)

Shouta Aizawa gave Tsukauchi a long hard look. He really couldn't believe this man sometimes. Sure, he was doing his job well and all, but he just kept having terrible ideas, like waking him up in the middle of the night with a phone call, just so he could head out to a crime scene and have a look at it, when he could just gather the same information from a well-made report. (Sometimes Aizawa suspected he didn't trust people with writing good reports, but that was a story for another day.) Or that thing he just suggested about Kaori Shinsou.

"Are you being serious right now?" Aizawa asked him, pretty sure that he was trying to play some sort of prank on him.

"Of course! I've seen her work on two different cases now and she has been brilliant. Would be a shame to let her waste away at the Hosu City department. Or have her go back to Tartarus next term." Tsukauchi replied. Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath.

"Look, I get it. She's really good at this and by all means, she should get to work in a higher ranking job. But Tsukauchi, have you looked at her? That girl has been doing night shift after night shift in Hosu, then she goes to university and then straight back to work. I've seen her asleep in the damn library, Tsukauchi! She needs a fucking break." he explained. Tsukauchi nodded quickly.

"Of course, of course, I'm not saying she should come here and intern with us right away. I'll have to look at a ton of paperwork for that anyway, and obviously she'd have to agree to it. We'd give her some time off, especially during exams. But she'd be able to work on high profile cases, instead of some teenagers burning stuff in trash cans. Think about it." Tsukauchi said.

Of course he was right. He had a very valid point. It would be a shame to waste Shinsou's talent when it came to criminal psychology with her staying in the Hosu City department. She would have much more room to grow if she was interning with and working for the National Police Department.

But Shinsou already had no idea what a healthy work-life balance meant. Aizawa knew she didn't, because he was the same. And while he loved his job as a teacher and part-time criminal psychologist for the National Police Department, he also knew that it sucked getting that little sleep and being under the kind of high pressure that these kinds of cases brought with them.

"I mean, in the end it will be her decision. But I don't think it's a good idea. She's overworking herself as it is. There were several times during the last few weeks when she just collapsed from exhaustion. This already isn't healthy for her. Now imagine Shinsou getting to work for a much bigger organization - she'd work herself to death because she felt she had to." Aizawa replied.

"Sounds like someone I know." Tsukauchi told him with a smile.

"Exactly. And that's why I know she'd get much more stressed than she already is. I know I am stressing myself more than is good for me."

"Well, have you considered that the two of you would be working together? Which means you would both technically have a smaller workload and that benefits both you and her. Plus, that way you can still have an eye on her and make sure she gets some time off, if that's so important to you." Tsukauchi said.

Aizawa had to admit he hadn't thought about that. It could possibly even convince him. But there was no way he'd admit that to Tsukauchi. Thinking about it, he quite liked the idea of being able to work with Shinsou. After all, he had been itching to show her some of the confidential files on the Stain case, just to be able to get her perspective. Aizawa didn't like working closely with people, but he could imagine working with Kaori Shinsou. He sighed. Tsukauchi had already won.

"Well, go and suggest it to her. I still don't think it's the best idea, but in the end it is her decision. And I agree, it would be nice to get her somewhere higher up than the Hosu Department." Aizawa finally said. Tsukauchi gave him a knowing smile and got up from his chair in the school cafeteria.

"Sounds good to me, then. I'll get the paperwork in order and then I can hopefully see her about it sometime next week. I'd like to get her on for interviewing Stain by any means." Tsukauchi replied.

"That would be a good idea, she's been following that case since forever. She's obsessed with it. Anyway, get your paperwork done and then see if she wants to do it or not." Aizawa mumbled.

He still didn't quite feel alright with that decision, but there was nothing he could do either way. Tsukauchi had come to him to test the waters and see what he had to say about her academic abilities. And those were as good as they could possibly be. He had nothing bad to say about Shinsou.

"Oh yeah, before I leave. The two of you might want to be a little more discreet with... whatever it is that's going on between you." Tsukauchi said and winked at him. Aizawa gave him a confused look.

"What?" he asked, not expecting to hear anything like that. Of course he had heard of the stupid rumours, but he had never paid them much mind. To him they were just that - stupid rumours.

"I don't know if there is anything going on between you and Shinsou, but there are rumours. And it is quite obvious that you are... fond of her." Tsukauchi replied. Aizawa was completely dumbfounded by this. He had never expected anyone to bring this up to his actual face. Yes, he was fond of Shinsou. He liked her, there was no point denying it. And there was also no point denying that she was an attractive young woman. But there was absolutely nothing going on.

"I don't know what you're thinking, but there is really nothing going on..." Aizawa started, but Tsukauchi interrupted him.

"Look, I really don't care. I'm just saying this as a friend. People get certain impressions, that's all I'm saying."

And with that Tsukauchi left. Aizawa had no idea how to react to any of that. He had always thought that all those rumours were somewhat ridiculous. There was absolutely no substance to this. But now Tsukauchi had him second-guessing himself. What if there was anything inappropriate between them?

It wasn't like anything they'd do would be illegal, but it would surely be against school policy if they were having an affair of any sort. Especially as long as Shinsou was in his course. An image got conjured up in his mind of Kaori Shinsou in one of her short skirts and her knee socks on, sitting on the heavy oak desk in his office, leaning back, legs spread wide, looking at him with those lascivious eyes and...

Fuck. Where the hell did that come from? Aizawa was trying to tell himself that it was only because of what Tsukauchi had insinuated that he had just been thinking about that, but somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that he definitely had a thing for Shinsou - he had just been suppressing it, because... well, because he was her professor and she was his student.

This was bad. This was beyond bad. How the hell did he not notice how far he let all this get? Those little mind games where he intentionally wouldn't call on her for ages during class, just to see her essentially fighting for his attention, the way she'd almost grow in her seat every time he gave her any sort of praise - hell, him taking her on as a teacher's assistant.

None of that was helping in any way. Maybe he just had to find a way to at least publicly distance himself from her. Try not asking her to stay after class so many goddamn times. That would be a start. Aizawa sighed and took a sip from his half-empty cup of coffee. It had gotten cold. Of course.

"Morning, prof!" he heard a cheerful voice say behind him. Speaking of the devil. He turned in his chair and saw Kaori Shinsou standing there, a lunch tray in her hands, obviously on the way over to her friends.

"What do you want, Shinsou?" he asked, feeling a headache coming on. He was in no mood to deal with this right now.

"Just happened to pass by on my way. I saw Tsukauchi talk to you and you looked kind of shaken. Is everything okay?" she replied innocently. Good God, this was getting worse and worse. Aizawa gave her a glare.

"It's none of your concern." he said coldly, trying to implement the rules he had just set for himself. Shinsou looked like she was taken aback a little and then she just shrugged and gave him a smile.

"Okay." she replied and continued in her way. That smile literally broke Aizawa's heart. It wasn't easily noticeable, but it was absolutely a fake smile. He kept telling himself that all of this was for the best. He really wanted to keep his job and he didn't want to force Shinsou to transfer courses either.

He had no idea how he was supposed to work with her, if she decided to transfer from the Hosu department to the nationwide department. He tried to remember how he was treating the rest of his students, but somehow it didn't seem to translate in any way to Shinsou. She was smart, dedicated and... really fucking hot.

There. He said it. He thought his student was hot. And really, there was nothing wrong about it. She was 22, there were really only 8 years between them. The only thing that was a problem was U.A.'s policy on that. And that's why he had to cut the bullshit and stop being obvious about it.

Aizawa took a deep breath and took another sip from his coffee. With the shock of his new realization he had completely forgotten that it had become cold and disgusting. He grimaced, as he remembered. Only thirty minutes left until his Criminal Psychology class. With Kaori Shinsou in it. Fuck.

He was so used to talking to her about her assignments after class or to have a small chat in the classroom just before the course started. He was used to watching her write down immaculate notes, her sticking her pencil into her hair and forgetting about it for ages, her sitting up more and more when he wasn't calling on her on purpose. This whole thing would be harder than he thought.

With a sigh he got up to get rid of his coffee and hole himself up in the staff room. He didn't really want to talk to anyone right now, not after he had had this weird epiphany. His mind flashed the image of Shinsou's sad eyes at him reacting so coldly before him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Fuck, this really would be hard.

[madamebaggio]

FATE CAN SUCK IT - Kingsman Fanfiction

Summary: Agatha didn't have an easy life: ran away from home at 15, became a prostitute, met her soulmate at 17...

Harry Hart was everything she had dreamed as little girl, but life destroyed that little girl. She had no use for him and she knew he would never want her, so she left.

10 years later she works for an agency that loves trouble and Harry is back.

Fate is such a pain in the ass.

***

Notes: This work is unfinished, but can be found here. Also, this is a Kingsman soulmate AU with a whole cast of OC.

I hope you enjoy the first chapter.

***

Chapter 1

Nikki was not a complaining person. Well, teenager, to be more honest. She’d had her rebel phase, thinking that she was smarter than everyone else around her and that her parents were stupid tyrants.

Running away with her good-for-nothing boyfriend of the time seemed like a great idea. She had been a very stupid 15-year-old.

Nikki was now 17 and the street had made her cold and cynical. Most days, she felt like she was 90. That’s what being a teenager prostitute did to you. She should not have been surprised.

Good-for-nothing boyfriend left her alone in the middle of London with no money, a fondness for LSD and too scared – and ashamed – to call her parents.

Nikki had always been too pretty and looked older than she actually was. The street was cruel to stupid young girls and turning tricks had been the only answer for her, even if it ate at her faster than the drugs. She was way too skinny now, but at least she was alive and had a roof over her head.

She had been lucky, honestly. Some of the girls had felt sorry for the lost 15-year-old and took her in. She had cried on her first night, until Foxy – one of the older girls – slapped her and told her to grow up and deal with it.

Six months after that, Nikki didn’t give a shit anymore. She felt dead inside and was just waiting for her body to catch up on that.

She wished now that she could look into the eyes of her 15-year-old self and tell her she was a stupid little bitch. She wished for a lot of things.

Right now, she wished she had a jacket.

The asshole of the night had put her in a car and drove her to some fancy neighborhood, then stopped in front of a house and demanded a blow job. Apparently it was his ex-wife’s house. Everybody had weird kinks and ideas; she could not care less about his.

What she did care a lot about was the fact that the bloody bastard refused to pay her for it, then slapped her – hard – in the face, before throwing her out of the car. So now she was in the middle of a posh neighborhood with no idea how to get back home.

It was after one, so there was no living soul on the street and even if there was, she could hardly see one of those blokes wanting to help a hooker. She would be lucky if she didn’t get into even more trouble.

Nikki hugged herself, hoping for a bit more of warmth. She had split lip, her shoulder hurt from where the arsehole had pushed her against the door, before he managed to open it and throw her out of the car. That lovely action left her with skinned hands and knees. The worst part was that she ripped her damn stockings, and they were bloody new!

She sighed and saw her breath in the air. Well, great. Just fucking peachy. She would freeze to death out here. Although… If she thought about the headlines of the next day (“Young hooker found frozen in a respectable neighborhood!”) she could even smile a bit.

She had to get fun from the very few places where she could.

She turned into another street – they all looked the same – and saw a man walking in her direction. He was wearing an honest-to-God suit at this time of night and carrying an umbrella on his arm. He looked like a fucking lord coming down the street.

When he saw her, he stopped for a second to access her – there was no other word for it – before coming in her direction.

“Are you alright, miss?” He asked, a small frown on his too pretty face.

He was older, she could see it now. His hair was perfectly styled, his glasses probably were of some fancy brand and his accent was as posh as it got. But he called her “miss” and Nikki had to laugh at that.

“Miss, darling?” She huffed in a laugh. “Need stronger glasses?”

He arched a brow. “Are you lost?” He insisted.

“That obvious, huh?” She scoffed. “Just need some directions.”

“You’re hurt.”

“Very observant of you.” She rolled her eyes. “Look, darling, either you point me to a direction or…” She looked him up and down. “Ask me the price.”

His lips thinned in obvious reprove. Then it was like he had thought of something. “Alright. What is your price?” He asked politely, like he was asking her what time it was.

Well, she was not expecting that. At all. But she did not trust this guy for a second. He was way too good looking and proper to want a hooker like her. If he wanted one, he could get way better, but she could play the game.

“Depends on what you want, sugar.” She put her hand on her hip and cocked it.

“I want you to come home with me so I can take a look at your bruises, then ask a taxi to take you home.” He said with a simplicity that left Nikki feeling actually shocked.

“You wanna play doctor?” She asked flatly.

This time he rolled his eyes. “Yes.” It was amazing how much sarcasm a person could inflict on one single word. “So?”

“Why not?” She shrugged. What was the worst he could do to her? Kill her?

She walked a bit behind him, but they didn’t have a long way to go before he walked into a street that had a very charming house. It figured.

He opened the door and made a gesture for her to walk in first. She chuckled again at that, being treated as a lady by one of those guys.

He told her to sit on the couch and went to get something. Nikki started regretting a bit not having a knife hidden in her boots like some of the girls did. Maybe she had been a bit too harsh.

She was considering getting up and leaving when the man came back, carrying a small first aid kit.

“Let me see this lip.” He said, sitting by her.

“You can’t possibly be serious.” She was looking at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop, because there was no way this man was this nice for absolutely no reason. “I’m not letting you fuck me for free, just cuz you’re being nice.” She warned him deadly serious.

The man looked at her like she had just said the stupidest thing ever. He had this curious look about him, a cross between outrage –at what she said -and disappointment –that she really thought that.

“This is not why I helped you.” He said firmly.

“Why was that again, sugar?”

“I do have a name.” He told her with exaggerated patience.

“OK. Do you want me to ask you what it is?” She made a face of such extreme innocence, that she knew he would see right through it. “I can even pretend to care about the answer.”

The man sighed – once more – and fixed his eyes on her. “Why so hard on the world?” He asked gently. “Why such tall walls?”

“Why the fuck do you care?” She snapped. “I’m a junkie and a whore, you don’t even know me. Why do you care?” She demanded of him. Yes, she was pushing, because she wasn’t exactly a junkie, but she wanted to make him cringe.

She was so pissed at him! Angry that he dared to make her care, that he scared and pressured her. Mad that he made her feel anything at all.

“Because we already live too harsh lives to be unkind to other people for no reason.” He replied honestly, his eyes looking at her like he could actually see her, the real her, not just this empty shell. “Because someone – anyone – ought to care about another human life.”

Oh Lord, this man couldn’t possibly be serious. How could anyone believe in something so cliché and naïve? How could a man at his age – she was guessing late 30’s to early 40’s – even think that the world was anything but a terrible place?

“You’re delusional.” She informed him, her voice shaking a bit.

“Maybe a little bit.” He had this grin on his face. “I’m also Harry Hart. Nice to meet you.”

He offered her his hand, but Nikki was not seeing it. The name kept playing over and over in her head.

“Harry Galahad Hart?” She asked, her voice now really trembling.

His face became shocked, then suspicious in a second. His eyes fell to her chest, not to ogle, but she knew what he was looking for.

Nikki had been born with the name “Harry Galahad Hart” on her chest, right over her heart, in the curve of her breast, the name of her soulmate, the one person in the world that was meant for her. She spent years trying to figure out who that person was, imagining thousand ways in which they could meet.

Then good-for-nothing- boyfriend came along and reminded her that Harry had her name too and was probably older – since she was already born with his name – and he had not come looking for her. Harry might not want her.

Maybe, if she hadn’t been in such a bad place back then, she wouldn't have listened to him so easily, but she was desperate to leave, so she pretended she didn’t care about Harry Hart anymore.

Nowadays, she just knew she had nothing to offer and with her luck Harry would either be a drug dealer or a pimp.

She never thought, in a million years, that she would really meet him, or that he would be so… This.

Harry was frowning now, because there was nothing on her chest. Clients didn’t appreciate seeing soulmates names on their hookers – maybe it reminded them that they were likely cheating – so most girls covered theirs.

Nikki licked her index finger and passed over her chest, revealing some of the letters, enough to read “Galah”.

“So…” He cleared his throat. “You are Aga…”

“I go by Nikki, it’s more whorish.” She had no illusions that this man would want her, so she might as well destroy this now.

“God, you’re 17!” He seemed beyond shocked now. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then his eyes started going from one direction to another, never looking at her.

“I’m also not interested.” She declared getting up; she had to leave this place. This was all she could never have, not now, not ever. Harry might even be a decent man, but he would never be able to handle this.

Even if he thought he was, one day they would fight and what would he say to her? She could hear him calling her a whore already.

“Look.” He got up too, “It’s not that you…”

“Spare me.” She threw her hair back, the picture of nonchalant. “Let’s not make this harder than it has to be.”

“Nikki, my life is complicated…” He tried again, but she had enough.

“I don’t care.” She told him with finality. “Because I know where this is heading and I lived 17 years of my life without you in it. I can sure as fuck live the rest of it.”

She walked to the door. “Let me call you a cab.” He asked politely, but also nervous.

“I can walk, darling.” She called over her shoulder before stepping once again into the cold night.

She started walking fast, but Nikki only realized she was crying when the first drop hit her arm. Yes, it still hurt, even knowing she could not have it. It would get better, then again, it was not like it could get any worse.

[artistic-writer]

The Contract :: CS Omegaverse :: Chapter 1

Title: The Contract Rating: E Summary: Emma had never wanted much in her life, despite being married to one of the richest men in the world. For ten years she has felt like a prisoner in her own marriage, denied the one thing she wants the most, but her husband cannot help but bargain her want like a cheap business deal.  Enter Killian Jones, the Alpha her husband has hired to make sure she gets what she wants. And then some. A/N: This is an Omegaverse fic featuring A/B/O dynamics.  Whilst this varies from fandom to fandom, for the purposes of my fic, there will be no mpreg.  Just so you know.  There will however be knotting, breeding, heats and other delicious things that come along with A/B/O.  If you do not know what A/B/O is, feel free to message me :)  Many thanks to @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke and @effulgentcolors for letting me bounce my complicated ideas of you lol

Also, I am no longer doing a tag list.  This is something I have struggled with because of memory issues, so to be fair to everyone, and to make sure you don’t miss out, you should allow notifications or subscribe on AO3.  If you wish to stay away from this fic, blacklist the A/B/O tag.

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Emma Swan was sick. Her head pounded from the daylight that had crept its way through her bedroom curtains, slipping through the only space it could which lead right across her face. The orange blaze burned its mark into her forehead, finally annoying her enough that she opened her eyes the tiniest crack and lazily watched the specks of dust dancing in the beam. Luckily for her, the sun was slow moving, and she easily avoided it by rolling out of the way across the huge queen size bed that she shared with her husband.

Unluckily for her, he was still asleep right beside her. He was normally gone by now.

Graham Humbert was normally an early riser, waking, showering and eating his breakfast like a military man who had repeated the same morning every single day of his life. But he wasn’t any sort of combat veteran, and held no stories of anything more sinister than a board meeting. No. Routine was his everything. There was never any room in his busy CEO life for any deviation and as a consequence, Emma had paid the ultimate price of marrying him.

She was lonely. He was good looking, she couldn’t deny that, and as she gazed upon the gentle rise and fall of his smooth back muscles as he snored softly beside her, she couldn’t help the smile that had crept across her face. Lonely or not, he was still the man who had married her, despite all of her issues, and for that she would always love him. And it wasn’t just today that Emma was feeling out of sorts; she had been sick her entire life.

It had all begun when she was around five or six, but she didn’t remember much of it, only the constant trips to and from the doctor’s office, but when she really thought about it, they were nothing like what they are today. The offices always seemed darker, more shady, and despite her heavy diet of prescription vitamins and supplements to keep the sickness at bay, she never remembered an actual doctor ever examining her.

She was just sick.

Her foster father had been a loving man, doting on her despite having three sons of his own as well, and giving her everything that she wanted. That was, until she had gotten sick. He had changed, becoming nervous around her, which seemed to increase each year that she matured, constantly making sure she was taking her medication. He cared too much and it made the man slightly crazy, as well as gave Emma a hatred for the pills that supposedly kept her alive. He obsessed over her medication so much, that when she was fourteen, he was declared unfit to care for her any longer and she was sent to live with the Humbert family.

They were nice but very different from her old foster family, who mysteriously, despite always living on the poverty line, suddenly decided to vacation in the Maldives just after she had gone. The Humberts looked at her with distaste at first, the one she recognised from her foster father before, and it made Emma unsettled. What had she done to cause so many people in her life to suddenly look at her so differently? She didn’t know, but she had discovered one thing; Graham Humbert was another scrawny teenager just like her and they got on like a house on fire.

Growing up was weird in the Humbert house. Graham’s father was an Alpha, from a long line of them in fact, and his mother had long since died before Emma even arrived . Living with an Alpha was intense, but it had been worse for Graham who, at the age of eighteen, still hadn’t become what his family had expected him to. Coming from a long line of successful Alpha’s meant that as the only Beta born in over three hundred years, Graham was, essentially, as excluded from the family as the foster kid.

Emma had always told him, being a Beta wasn’t so bad though. He might not have any of the attributes of his forefathers, but Graham was a good, kind man, and Emma had on more than one occasion told him any woman would be lucky to have him. It wasn’t exactly what she had intended, but Graham had proposed to her less than a year later and now here she was, ten years into a marriage she felt she had to be in out of obligation and because, she had to face it, who would want to provide for all of her medical bills?

Emma was sick, and she was lonely.

The sheet around her was pulled away as Graham shifted his weight, a grumble escaping his throat as he rolled towards her and relaxed back into sleep once he was on his back. He twitched, one of his hands flying up to scratch at the stubble on his jaw before falling like a dead weight against the smooth contours of his chest. His hair was a mess, the curls stretched and fuzzy, the only evidence of his inability to sleep longer than a few hours that only Emma knew about.

To the world, Graham Humbert was one of the most successful business owners the world had ever known. He was rich, powerful and if it were not for his unfortunate luck, he would have been another generation of mighty Humbert Alphas with their own company and a whole army of staff at their every whim. But he wasn’t an Alpha. He had never found his way into the patriarchal values of his own family and Emma pitied him.

Maybe that was why she had married him. Maybe she didn’t really think low enough of herself that she would have never found true love with anyone else because of her illness, but it didn’t stop her from saying yes. Graham hadn’t even gotten down on one knee, bought her a ring or taken off his damn business suit to ask her that day, but she had said yes and now, a decade later, they were both slaves to their own decisions.

If she had to really admit it, Emma knew they were both unhappy. They loved each other, and there had always been care between them, but lately Emma had noticed a distance between them that was gnawing away at their union. It seemed that not even the wealthy were immune to falling out of love, and despite what her head told her, Emma’s heart ached. She wanted more and had always felt like she needed something else, someone else. Graham had been the first and only man she had ever been with, as awkward as it was sometimes, and deep down Emma couldn’t help but think about the strangest thing.

Alphas.

Since she had turned twenty, just two years into her marriage and around the time Graham started to drift away from her, Emma had been fascinated with Alphas. Her friend and fellow socialite, Ruby Lucas, had told her stories, of all ratings, and Emma had guiltily wished she wasn’t married so she could experience one for herself. She hadn’t gone a single day of her life since then without imagining the strong arms of an Alpha male, holding her tightly as he emptied the frustrations of his rut into her. Alphas haunted her dreams, left her waking in a cold, horny sweat, but she was stuck with the man beside her; a Beta with an Alpha complex.

Graham stirred finally, Emma realising that for once, she had rose long before his body clock had him waking up. She blamed the sun, but if she was honest, she had been having the most amazing dream that had shaken her from her sleep with a coil in her belly and a welcome heat between her thighs that she hadn’t felt for an age in reality. A sex dream turned her on more than her own husband and Emma hadn’t had one of those for a good long time, just like she hadn’t had a good fuck either.

Graham was many things, including impotent at the worst times, and Emma hadn’t found a way to help him keep his erection long enough so that she could actually get off. Of course, that was her fault. Her mouth was too wet, her mouth was too dry, she was too wet, she was too dry - Graham had never once taken responsibility for his poor performance and a rift had formed between them. When things were good, they were great, but when it came down to pleasing his wife, Graham was filled with anger and contempt.

Emma watched him sleep, his fingers flexing against his chest and his eyelids fluttering, threatening to open. The sheet below his waist twitched, a gentle rise beginning to pleat the cotton. Things had been good lately, because Emma hadn’t broached the idea of sex, but with the intensity of her dream still fluttering between her legs, and Graham with evident morning wood, why not give it a go?

It was a sign.

With a smirk, Emma snuggled her body into Graham’s, snaking her hand over the bumps of his abs that he spent so much time toning. He was asleep, but Graham sucked in a breath, his leg twitching sideways and bumping against hers as she slid her hand lower. Her fingers brushed through the darkened hair over his groin and Emma watched the furrow of his brow as she scraped her nails lightly over the inside of his thigh.

She was trying to wake him, just like she had in the beginning of their relationship, except now she wasn’t out for his pleasure but simply and selfishly, just her own. Her dream had left an impression on her, her subconscious willing a beautiful man between her legs with a wicked tongue and a wit to match. If she squinted, Graham kind of looked like him as he slept, and after all, she could pretend. She had been faking orgasms for over half her marriage, what was one more to scratch an itch?

Emma’s fingertips danced around Graham’s now semi-hard erection, the organ stiffening and twitching under her light touches. Emma smiled when he groaned, his lips parting slightly to exhale and suck in another much needed breath to keep up with the rhythm of his heart, his thigh shaking a little under the thin sheet where they lay. It was fun, watching him helpless to her touch as he slept, because Emma knew if he was awake, things would be very different.

Even though Graham was not an Alpha, he liked to pretend he was, and that included in the bedroom. He had been loving at first, but then things had changed between them and he had become cruel, making her pleasure herself whilst he barely touched her. He liked to watch more than participate and Emma had found a huge void opening up in her sex life that had previously been occupied by the warmth of a man. Now all she had was sex toys and porn - if she was lucky.

“Mmmmm,” Graham hummed, the sound rumbling in his chest as Emma smoothed her palm over his length, swiping her thumb over the tip that had started to ooze under her assault.

“Does that feel good?” Emma purred into his ear, watching the hairs in his beard stand to attention under the soft warmth of her words. His skin prickled to life before her eyes and she smirked.

“Yes,” Graham hissed sleepily, his hips rutting up into her hand for more friction as his erection grew even larger under her hand, firming and springing from his body like a pole.

“Do you like that, baby?” Emma cooed, her tongue darting out to lick at his ear lobe.

“God, Ruby, yes,” Graham moaned, hissing through his teeth.

“Ruby?!” Emma snapped, pushing herself up into a sit beside him and pulling her hand away from him suddenly. She slapped his bare chest and he bolted awake with a fright.

“What? Emma, what’s going on?” Graham asked frantically, scanning the room, squinting when the light hit his face and then noticing that for the first time in a long time, he was lying next to his wife with an erection.

“Ruby?” Emma asked him sternly, folding her arms over her chest and arching an eyebrow at him.

Graham clutched the sheet to his lap, gulping hard and swallowing down the lump that had formed in his throat. His cheeks were pink, his eyes falling to his lap as he desperately tried to will away his shameful erection, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I said that?”

Emma cast a knowing glance over his body, the position and language it was giving off telling her everything she needed to know. It all made sense now. The late nights away, helping out her friend in the absence of her own much older husband, constant invites and making sure he was seated next to Ruby at dinners. But still, she wanted to hear it from him. “Why would you think I was one of my best friends?” Emma prodded, watching him squirm.

“Don’t be crazy. It was just a dream,” Graham huffed, falling back against the pillows.

“Right, okay,” Emma nodded, turning from his obvious lies and feeling more than angry that her potential fun time had been ruined so abruptly.

“Don’t be like that,” Graham pleaded, sighing heavily. “It’s always the same with you,” he accused. “You can’t blame me for things I say in my sleep, Emma. That’s ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” Emma shrugged, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She slipped her feet into her slippers and watched the bones in her feet moving under her skin. “Maybe you wish we weren’t married any more.”

“Come on,” Graham soothed, rolling over towards her and reaching a hand out to place on the bare skin of her hip. Emma was wearing just a loose fitting shirt and panties but Graham never noticed nowadays. “Come back and we can try again.”

Emma spun to face him, her frown so heavy on her brow that she thought it would leave lines. She was disgusted, more than that, she was hurt. “Try again?” She spat at him, batting his hand away from her thigh. “Like I’m not good enough?” Graham pulled his hand away, licking his lips nervously, rolling his eyes. “Whose fault is it that you can’t get an erection anymore, Graham, huh?” Emma snapped. “Whose fault is it that you can only get it up when you are thinking of another woman?”

“Emma-,” Graham began, but he was cut off abruptly when Emma slammed her palm into the mattress beside herself in frustration.

“Don’t ‘Emma’ me!” she screeched. “We both know I don’t do it for you anymore.”

“You’re my wife,” Graham ground out through clenched teeth, balling his fist.

“Bullshit,” Emma scoffed. “We both know that doesn’t mean a thing. Being married means love, it means you care, it means you have fucking sex with each other, not sit in the corner of a darkened room jacking off whilst your wife fucks herself.”

“But I like that,” Graham said defensively.

“Oh, good for you,” Emma growled. “It’s okay because you like it.”

“You don’t?” Graham asked dumbly.

Emma gave him a look, a mixture of disbelief and sadness. “If you cared about me, you would know the answer.”

Graham blinked at her accusation. “Of course I care.”

“If you cared for me, even a tiny bit, you’d let me have a divorce.” The sorrow in Emma’s voice hung between them, both looking away from each other to avoid the inevitable apologies that were to follow.

Graham always said how sorry he was, how it wasn’t his fault and it always ended with the same scenario; Emma riding herself into a muted oblivion on a fake Alpha sized cock Graham would strap around his waist. A silence fell between them, just as he had done the last time Emma brought up the subject of divorce. She was sure she was going to get the same excuse as last time, despite her sorrow, and it meant she was trapped.

“Humbert men don’t-,” Graham began in a well rehearsed voice.

“Don’t get divorced, I know.” Emma looked at him with a sigh, her arousal long since disappeared. For two people who were so similar, they sure like tearing each other apart piece by piece, until Emma finally approached the dreaded subject of separation. Emma knew she would never get a divorce, Graham was worth too much money to risk anything so public but that didn’t mean she couldn’t negotiate the terms of her marriage.

“I’m sorry,” Graham said with a sigh, his eyes dropping to the space between them.

“I want excitement, Graham,” Emma told him firmly and his gaze snapped up to meet hers. Her eyes were the most vibrant shade of green he had ever seen and he knew that she meant business. “I want sex, and I want it when I want it, not when you can fit me into your busy schedule.” He listened, blinking at her in disbelief. “I might only be a Beta, but you married me, you settled for me,” Emma said gruffly. “Even if you are fucking Ruby.”

Graham lifted his gaze once more, narrowing his eyes at the woman in front of him. He shifted his weight on his hip, his heart picking up its pace in his chest. “I’m-,”

“You are,” Emma laughed in defeat. “I’m not an idiot, Graham, so please don't take me for a fool.” Emma knew he was indeed fucking her friend, and she had known for a while now. Neither of them were discreet with their flirtation and their emails, which would make the most hardcore Alpha in rut blush, were easily accessible with their joint account. “So, here’s my offer.”

“Offer?” Graham cocked his head at her, intrigued. She nodded.

“I want sex. You can’t give me the sex I want. I want a nice, hard, real cock inside of me. You need to find me someone who can give me sex, and I’ll keep your little side piece a secret. You know, for public image purposes,” Emma smirked.

“That’s your offer?” Graham snorted.

“Take it or leave it,” Emma shrugged. “But every business journal from here to Japan will know about you and Ruby before nightfall.”

“You wouldn’t. You would be ruined too,” Graham told her darkly.

Emma shrugged and gently shook her head from side to side, her hair falling over her shoulders. “Graham, honey, at this point in my life, I have nothing left to lose.”

Graham narrowed his eyes with a sigh. He really was sorry, for what it was worth, but Emma was right. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Deadly,” Emma said coldly. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck if you were doing Ruby in the next room, as long as I am finally satisfied.”

“Can I watch?” Graham said hoarsely, the mere idea of seeing his wife in another man’s arms giving him a tingle downstairs that he hadn’t felt for an age.

“You wanna see me come, baby?” Emma cooed, leaning towards him and licking her lips. “You wanna see a big cock take me over and over until I scream?” Emma taunted him, her eyes darting between his and his slightly parted lips.

“You don’t get to have sex with another man if I don’t get to watch,” Graham grinned.

“Are you seriously negotiating this like a business deal?” Emma snorted, her lips twitching up into a smile and an eyebrow rising on her forehead.

“Of course,” Graham shrugged playfully. “It’s the only thing I am good at.”

Emma stifled a laugh and raised her eyebrows at him. “No deal, and I’d say fucking my best friend was enough leverage for me,” she began, inhaling hard and brushing a stray strand of her golden locks from her forehead. “So, I want someone tall, with a beard, blue eyes and very grabbable hair,” Emma told him firmly, biting her lip as she described the man of her dreams. “I want chest hair to rub my nipples and I want an accent. British.” Emma pointed at him, making sure he knew that detail was important. “Find all that, in one man, and you can fuck Ruby all you like.”

Graham looked at her, his lips twitched up into a sly smile. “Alright,” he agreed with a nod, accepting the challenge. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” Emma grinned, the thought giving her a tingle just by imagining it. “I want an Alpha.”

--

“What do you mean, she knows?” Ruby screeched. Her hands were thrust into her hair, pulling it away from her forehead as she stared blankly at the floor she was pacing on.

“She knows,” Graham shrugged, his head in his hands. Sitting on a couch in his study, he had decided to tell Ruby, his lover, what Emma, his wife, had said. He’d left out the part about how she knew, a slip of the tongue during his dream state, but that didn’t matter anyway because if the way Ruby was stamping her feet back and forth, wall to wall in the room, it wouldn’t have been a sensible idea to anyway.

“Well, did you tell her?” Ruby accused dryly, her shoes scuffing the floor of his study as she made yet another turn at the apex of her pacing.

“Of course not,” Graham scoffed, his voice vibrating off the floor between his feet.

“Then how does she know?” Ruby demanded, her voice an octave higher in her panic.

“Will you just stop pacing?” Graham looked up with a sigh.

“No. You know what? I think I’ll keep wearing a hole into your expensive floor because I am entitled to!” Ruby stopped, despite her words and pursed her rouged lips. She closed her eyes, inhaled so deeply she thought her lungs were going to explode and then exhaled hard, shaking her dark brown hair over her shoulders with a flick of her head. “Okay, okay, let’s just think here for a second.”

“It’s fine,” Graham told her calmly. He hadn’t really contemplated what Emma had wanted until this exact second, Ruby reminding him that if their affair got out it would be disastrous. She, a woman of high society, would be made out as some common harlot, whilst his reputation, that relied heavily on his family image, would be over quicker than he could blink. Not to mention the shame he would bring to his entire Alpha dominated family, all but guaranteeing his immediate shunning.

“Fine?” Ruby scoffed with a grunt of distaste. “Graham, if this gets out-”

“Don’t worry,” Graham said, pushing himself to his feet with a grunt. “It won’t.”

Ruby laughed, dry and so sarcastically it shook her whole body. “Graham, don’t be naive. She’s your wife and my best friend. This is classic revenge, black mail ammo.”

“Listen,” Graham assured with a few tentative steps towards her. He placed his hands on her shoulders, brushing his thumbs over the patch of skin between the two straps of her top, and gave her a quick smile. He felt her calm instantly, her body swaying under his gentle caress. “Everything is going to be okay, believe me.”

“But how do you know?” Ruby pouted.

“She’s not going to tell anyone, I just have to-”

“To what?!” Ruby panicked again, her body tensing and whipping from his grasp. She took a step back, eyes wide with horror of the unknown. “To stop seeing me?”

Graham looked at her, her lip quivering as she waited for what she thought was their inevitable break up. “No!” He frowned. “God, no,” he laughed.

“This isn’t funny, Graham!” Ruby snapped, slapping his chest and attempting to push him away. “I love you and she’s dragging us apart!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Graham chanted, clutching her fingers before she had time to totally pull away and yanking her to him. He wrapped her up in his arms, swaying from side to side. “That’s not what she wants.”

Ruby’s brow knitted together in her own confusion. “Then what does she want?”

“An Alpha.” Graham didn’t quite believe his own words but they fell from his mouth before his brain had time to stop them.

“An Alpha?” Ruby parroted.

Graham nodded. “With a very specific set of attributes.” He turned from her, a heavy sigh blowing past his lips as he contemplated his wife’s words. They were not unreasonable. Graham knew a lot of people, and his family had access to a fuck ton of Alphas because of, you know, all of them coming of age except him. Maybe Emma had already met this specific Alpha, maybe at one of his family parties. No. She wouldn’t be so shy. If there was one thing Graham knew about Emma, it was that she got what she wanted, especially if it hurt her husband. “I mean, it’s imposs-”

“Leave it with me,” Ruby interjected quickly and Graham gave her a questioning look. “What?” She smirked, sauntering over to him. “I know people and I’m very resourceful.”

“Mmmm,” Graham hummed as she pressed her body against his. “Yes, you are.”

Ruby glowed under his praise, a slight blush creeping across her cheeks. The tone of Graham’s voice made her skin come alive, dark and demanding, just like the colour of his eyes that had turned to a stormy grey. Ruby licked her lips, biting her bottom one with a playfully coy pout. “Does my Alpha approve?” She smiled sweetly, her hand finding the front of his pants and rubbing at his hardening length inside.

Graham loved it when she stroked his ego, amongst other things, the title from her lips fake but no less arousing. He growled, pulling her even harder to his body with a force that made her squeak excitedly for what was to come.

[caffeinatedtimdrake]

Hello! I really love your writing! If it's not too much to ask could you write 46 for Tim please? Congratulations on 200!! 😊

sorry this is so late! hope you like it! 1.6k of high school!Tim x reader ft. Conner and Cass. 

46. “I thought you forgot about me.” “Never.”

“I hate this.” 

“No, you hate that Tim is being a flagrantly social butterfly and you’re stuck in this corner with social anxiety and Cass’s blindingly glittery purse.” Conner states, stabbing the slab of steak with a fork and a knowing look. 

Your mouth twitches unhappily. “Yeah. I hate these shoes, too.” 

“My purse isn’t all that bad, okay? There are so many little pockets. I have pepper spray, a mini sewing kit, a nail file, lip gloss – “ 

“Do you have duct tape, too? 

Cass is silent for a moment. “I will end you.” 

Conner leans back in his seat and groans. “Please. Before prom night ends me first.”

You resonate with Conner’s sentiment.

When the group of you had all expressed to your parental figures on separate occasions that you had absolutely no desire to spend several hours in uncomfortably formal clothes socializing with your peers, you’d received a scolding about only living once and enjoying your youth. Tim, ever the connoisseur of charming people, quietly told you, Cass, and Con that he wouldn’t mind going to prom. He supported the argument of your authority figures and specifically cornered you in a room with sweet kisses and even sweeter words until you melted like ice beneath the summer sun and agreed to be his prom date. 

So that’s how you ended up here, at the corner table on the dance floor of some snazzy yacht right off the harbor, sulking and snacking on annoyingly appetizing crab cakes while Tim Drake waltzed around Gotham academy’s prom like the practiced diplomat he is. 

“We could still always leave, you know.” Conner chirps, waving a breadstick around. 

The option is tempting, but you know you can’t ditch Tim. He seems to genuinely enjoy chattering with other students and faculty of Gotham Academy. It doesn’t bother you much that he’s not over here talking to you – the environment has you anxious and grouchy, you can’t imagine you’d be pleasant company at the moment anyway. There’s a quiet smile on his face as he talks to his favorite teacher and this enough for you to feel content. He hadn’t had the most conventional youth and, during one special midnight patrol, Tim admitted that there were certain milestones he worried reaching, certain events he didn’t want to miss. He lived in a world of inescapable peril and unwavering courage: he wanted to go to his senior year prom because he didn’t know if he might spend the rest of his life regretting it if he didn’t. You look at him now, shining like the Earth had robbed a star from the very sky, and if he was enjoying himself, you could bear another hour or two on this damn boat. 

It’s nearing midnight when you and Cass have to lug Conner to the edge of the yacht so he can puke up the expensive dinner over the railing. 

“This is…less than ideal.” Cass mutters. 

“This fucking sucks.” Conner moans as you offer him a napkin. 

“You can’t shame the purse now because I shoved so many mints in here and you’re gonna be shoving so many into your mouth after you stop vomiting.” 

While other students were vomiting because someone had inevitably spiked the punch, Conner had consumed one too many pieces of steak and notified you and Cass of his seasick tendencies when it was already too late. 

“Didn’t think Superboy could get seasick.” 

“Kryptonite isn’t my only kryptonite I guess – oh god, here we go again,” 

You rub his back soothingly. 

When Conner finally stabilizes and manages to keep a few sips of lemon lime pop in his stomach, Cass asks if she should take him home. 

He looks around, clear blue eyes vigilant. “Honestly, I’m good to fly us all out of here.” 

“You only stopped projectile vomiting a few minutes ago. I am not flying over a body of water or a busy city with you.” 

Conner scowls. “You never wanna fly with me, period.”

Cass shrugs, pretty blonde tendrils framing her face. “That’s not completely inaccurate.” 

“Maybe I can go find Tim and we can all leave. If I can leave you two alone without one ending up dangling over the railing. 

Conner grins, white teeth glinting. “No promises, Y/N.” 

You find Tim near the dessert table and away from the gaggle of people on the dance floor, studying a chocolate chip cookie intensely, brow knit pensively, and mouth puckered into a slight pout. 

“What’d the cookie ever do to you?” 

He startles, dropping the baked good and straightening his posture, blinking at your rapidly. 

“O-oh. Um, it wasn’t made by Alfred. Which is an unacceptable travesty. Right?” 

You raise your eyebrows at his flustered expression, a pink tint brushed across his cheeks and the tip of his nose. “Right.”

“Where are the other two?” 

“One is recovering from a puke fest and the second is shoving mints into the first’s mouth probably.” 

He blanches. “Oh dear.” 

You nod. “Indeed.” 

“What brings lucky number three up here?” He seems unable to fight the coquettish grin that tugs at his lips. 

You shrug, inching closer and blushing. “Hoping to get lucky and find you.”

His smile is warm and boyish now, the one that makes you knees wobble and your heart race. Tim’s startlingly handsome, dark hair slicked back and moonlight caressing the elegant angles of his face. There’s always mirth and affection when he looks at you, whether you’re dressed to the nines or in mangy pajamas, and it makes your toes curl in your awfully uncomfortable shoes.  

“Lucky you, you found me.” He murmured.

You lean closer to him, voice soft above the music. “You’ve been all over the place tonight. I was beginning to worry…” 

Tim frowns, leaning into you, too, drawn like a magnet to the slight sulkiness in your features. “Worry about what?” 

You wrinkle your nose and the gesture it’s so cute, he can’t help but smile affectionately and tap the tip. “It’s going to sound stupid.” 

“Y/N,” He says firmly. “You know everything you say is gold to me. What’s up?” 

You can’t help but pout a little. “I thought you forgot about me, you’ve been having so much fun socializing and all.”

Tim’s mouth parts, bewildered. It takes a few moments for him to recover. “Oh no. Oh, no, Y/N, never. Not in a million years. In fact, I’ve spent the whole evening think about you.” 

It’s your turn for your jaw to drop now. “What? Really?” 

“Y-yeah, I – oh, shit, this is a disaster. So much dis.” He rubs his face, blatantly troubled. 

“What’s wrong, Tim?” 

He shoves his hands in his pocket, looking at you with a shyness you rarely see painted across the handsome features of Tim Drake. “This is not how I wanted this to happen, but I’ve gotta start somewhere.” 

“If you are going to break up with me or give me a dirty cookie, I would like to leave immediately.” 

His eyes widen and he moves towards you, wrapping his fingers around your wrists and tugging you into his space – a space that smells like clean laundry and summer air and mint chocolate chip ice cream. 

“Definitely not, Y/N. I have something for you.” 

You watch him cautiously, expectantly, as he fishes around in his suit pocket and emerges with something silvery glinting in the low lighting. 

A promise ring. 

For the second time in a span of one minute, you ogle at him. 

He’s bright red, uncharacteristically bashful but indisputable adorable. “Now, hear me out, okay?” 

“Listening.” You say breathily, gaze flitting between his wide eyes and the elegant ring in his fingers. 

“I know you don’t enjoy prom or football games or pep rallies – you think they’re all stupid, teenage things. And I mostly agree with that. I know you also probably think that a promise ring from your teenage boyfriend is also maybe kind of silly, but it’s not about the ring – it’s about the promise. Because I know we’re both just a pair of vigilante teenagers. But what we have? Nothing about it is childish or immature.” He squeezes his eyes shut, like this is the sharpest fall on a rollercoaster. “It’s not some stupid teenage thing. It’s more real than anything I’ve ever known, I promise that. And I hope that wearing this on your finger or on a chain around your neck is a reminder that we are so much more than some high school relationship; that the world is insane, but you make me crazy in the best way possible and I promise to care for you always, no matter where time and space may take us.” 

He cracks open his eyes, a sliver of cornflower blue and hesitation, before you launch yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck. 

“You’re so sweet I’m going to get cavities, Timothy Drake.”

His laughter is uneven and nervous, but his arms tighten around your waist. 

“I love you,” Tim mutters into your hair, kissing the side of your head. 

You pull back to press your lips to the corner of his jaw. “I love you. This means the world to me. You mean the world to me.” You coo as he slides the ring onto your finger, leaving you tingling and warm. 

He kisses you know fully, hands resting at the small of your back and the nape of your neck, mouth soft and saccharine against your own, threaded with unadulterated affection and unspoken promises. 

(“That’s the reason why we haven’t left yet?” 

Cass jabs Conner sharply in the ribs as they spy on you and Tim. “Oh, young love.” 

“I think I’m going to throw up. Again.” Conner makes a gagging noise for emphasis.  

Cass glowers at him and he can’t help but take a step back from her. “I think I’m going to throw you off the edge of this boat.”)

[insomniac-dot-ink]

The Breakdown Ch2

genre: supernatural gay ghost story

rated: M

words: 4.2K

summary: What do you get when you combine an urban legend turned real, a psychic hick, and bunch of ghost hunting Yankees? A bad time.

All Kevin Lampton wants to do with his summer is stop The Lady in White from killing anymore road trippers in the middle of nowhere Kentucky. Unfortunately, a group of ghost hunters looking for answers makes his job a lot more complicated.

Chapters: One, Two

Website⭐Ko-Fi ⭐Patreon ⭐ WordPress⭐Twitter

89 More Days

The sun was slowly leaking in through plastic blinds and striping the thin motel carpet with light and half the single bed in the center of the room. It was bare and rustic and cleaned with something quietly made of bleach and something more than bleach. Kevin flopped down on the bed without looking and reminded himself he had homework, milk to throw out, nails to cut, and a haircut to get.

It was sometime in the morning, a summer morning that didn’t need any definition or permission to exist. A time undomesticated by human concepts of time, it was just early and would be early for a while.

Kevin had homework to do.

He fell dreamlessly into deep musty sleep and didn’t wake again for 8 hours.

It was evening again when he blinked into consciousness, groaning and reaching for a half-filled water bottle and his laptop. He rolled onto his back and traced the ‘K’ on the ceiling with his eyes, written in cracks and imagination. He did the math in his head: he’d have approximately five hours of “Kevin-Time” now.

He indulged in several more moments of moping before stacking himself upright like a new game of jenga and unfolding. He forced himself to the shower, letting the lukewarm water work its way into his clenched muscles.

He closed his eyes, but not for long. There were hands in there, hands and eyes and a pale bruised gaze.

He sighed from deep inside himself and staggered to wipe the sleep out of his eyes and stand in front of the mirror. Kevin Lampton was lean, not tall, but the leanness gave the impression of at least a couple more inches of height.

He was springy in the way of wound-up corkscrews, sunburnt in an offhand way and long in a compact sort of way. He had a long face, almond-shaped, and a sloping jawline that was the opposite of the Hollywood box; those were his father’s features: soft and bordering on strange.

His nose was his own but only by way of being small and aligned with his ears.

His eyes were not his own, suspicious things with long dusty eyelashes and shifty movements, always breaking and starting and breaking again.

His teeth belonged to no one and he was lucky they weren’t more crooked, but they still overlapped here and there enough to dispel any wide smiles on his part in school pictures. His hair was the color of damp sand, not yellow, but a grainy brown that was lost to him in the way sand was. It was too long right now. It crept down his neck and hung over his eyes in wavy stiff tufts.

He’d have to get that taken care of, especially before class started again at the end of August. He sighed, August.

He was ready for August.

He gave himself another push and dug out his busted Lenovo computer and a Snickers bar from the back pocket of his other pair of pants. Four and a half hours.

He got to work and munched quietly.

89 more days on Sumpter Road, six more semesters of school, five if he got his shit together, one year at an internship, two years as any sort of underling and then… time spread out before him in a red jagged roadmap and he traced it with his eyes unblinkingly.

He looked back down at his online econ homework and typed as quickly as he could without his laptop limply falling backward in it’s continual over dramatic death throes. Bastard.

Four more hours.

A family pulled into the motel parking lot and he heard a shower turn on from somewhere beside him and rancorous yelling from somewhere above him. He imagined himself in a woody green forest, throwing up thick bark and leafy branches so the tiny waves didn’t hit from either location.

Someone was angry. Someone was having a very successful journey of self-exploration in a grungy motel shower. Kevin wasn’t really interested in either and frowned until the forest grew roots and blocked everything out.

The sun sank down in a bloody red bath outside and Kevin stuffed his pockets with more purified rock salt and packets of lamb's blood. He slipped his expression into something more than “tired and constantly terrified” for his cars sake and went out the door.

89 more monotonous days of trying to not let strangers die on a haunted road.

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

Kevin expected three things: that the elastic of his lucky boxers was probably going to snap soon. He was going to graduate college with full marks or die trying. He was going to meet a lot of strangers on Sumpter Road and then never see them again.

Some of the strangers may or may not piss themselves and it was his job to both stop them from being murdered and graciously look away from the aforementioned soiled pants.

He drove fifteen minutes from the highway motel back toward his night watch. His phone buzzed five times before he flipped it open.

“Hello?” He answered flatly, he was good at flat, he had a lot of practice.

“Kevin, me boy,” A smiling voice addressed him, Kevin glanced at the car visor and back down. “What do you want me to do with your shit?” Kevin twisted his mouth to the side, “Can I get someone to pick it up? I can get someone.” He lied easily and panicked quietly.

“Sure, sure,” Stevie said carelessly, “but you sure you don’t want us to keep it here? It’s only 3 months dude, don’t make us get a new roommate for next semester, I can already tell the Freshman are gonna fucking suck.” Kevin breathed out easily, “I’ll figure something out.” He said, which wasn’t really an answer. “Can’t do the summer though, I’ll get someone to get my things soon.” The ‘someone’ was whoever he could bribe to drive his few personal items from Lexington to his dad’s place in Frankfort.

“God, dude, please tell me you’re at least on some sort of vacation. Like, with a mimosa, a beach, and a girlfriend that isn’t your damn right hand.” Stevie tossed something across the room with a tin sound and gentle crash. Kevin rolled his eyes, “Yeah, she’s a real livewire, way more hands than me.” He said dryly. In fact, she had three more hands than him, five, six, seven sometimes.

“Whatever man, I’m telling you one of these days you’re gonna pop with that stick shoved so far up your stress hole that not eve-” Kevin paused, his eyes went wide, he approached the part of Sumpter road just outside of Reginald. “I have to call you back Stevie.” He cut off whatever new romantic metaphor his roommate was going to plunge into. “Somethings come up.”

“Fine, fine, avoid my damn point. But yeah, come get your shit.” “See you.” Stevie Johnson was a “friend,” but Kevin did not have friends that he couldn’t immediately hang up on. He hung up.

Kevin’s knuckles bleached on the steering wheel; the crickets chorused mockingly around him as he slowed down. The last bits of sun reflected, shiny and angry against the side of something very big and very black. A sore thumb in the dust, the type that wasn’t so much a bruise itself in this place but something about to bruise everything else.

Kevin’s nostrils flared; he wasn’t the type of psychic that could predict the future. He couldn’t pick out numbers from thin air or tell you the description of your true love. He couldn’t sell you your destiny or the identity of your true love for $4.99 a minute. 

He considered himself a pretty shitty psychic, but even he could tell this didn’t mean anything good. There was a big black van.

A big black van sat in the middle of the road, not off to the side, not in the grass, but on the very center ridge. Kevin narrowed his eyes so hard at it that he expected they might just become slitted peak holes. Officially, Sumpter didn’t have two lanes, but that didn’t mean sitting in the very center of it was not an absolute asshole move.

Kevin slowed to a stop in front of it to point out just how much of an asshole move it was. The windows were tinted completely black, the sides faceless, body high off the ground, and something was blinking green on the dashboard.

No, he swallowed thickly and wished he go back to dealing with that hippy couple who were convinced the ghost was an angel trying to contact them. They were babbling about that right up until the Lady on the Road started strangling them.

He would take the car of flower children smelling of skunk and rosemary over this any day.

He had a stare-off with the big black van and didn’t seem to be winning.

He glanced back at the blinking green light on the dashboard and Kevin parked close enough to recognize it as a black box and he had a feeling a little red arrow was on the other side. 

Both the driver and passenger seats were empty, but he could see the occasional movements behind the seats in the back. He knew what this was.

No, Kevin had a sudden sneaking suspicion this was retribution for his last job. He had watched, just watched, in his little visor and bright red shirt as a teenage girl had put ketchup in her milkshake. She put it directly in her milkshake without an ounce of shame. He just stood there and did nothing.

This was what happened to people who didn’t stop crimes, even after saving a considerable number of other drivers from a supernatural death.

He put his forehead on the center of his wheel and sighed, big and gusty and quite frankly one of his more impressive ones.

Maybe he should have expected this. People talked, online forums talked. The devil lived on the “Supernatural and Alien Experiences” reddit boards. Kevin watched the van until the sun succumb to a soft and hematic death on the horizon, and the black box blinked green.

He had found a new least favorite part his self-assigned job.

Kevin finished a burger he bought from a corner shop near his motel and his big gulp filled with shitty coffee he made himself. It tasted like dirt and grit, and he probably deserved that too.

The van looked new.

Kevin took his time checking his pockets, thinking about his homework, his hair, and then getting out of the car. The moon was a low half-coin in the sky, and he couldn’t put this off for any longer.

The night cast long shadows over everything like a paint brush that only knew two colors: silver and grey. Silver light licked up across the grass to the point you forgot they were ever yellow, and Kevin swore he saw more imaginary lightning bugs again.

A rusted white shack sat in the difference with small bent trees dotting the area around them; Kevin put his hands in his back-pockets and approached the big black van. His stomach sank as he saw his own reflection in the shiny surface.

His tank top was now upgraded to grey one instead of white, but his skin was still ruddy with summer heat and expression less than authoritative, mouth pinched and jawline obstinately soft. Throwing lambs blood was easier than this.

He trained his expression into something unflinching and private. He knocked on the side of the slide door with his knuckles and roved his brain for appropriate accompanying sentences. A stillness followed and he knocked again.

“Jesus,” a breathy voice said from within, “is that her?” The van shifted slightly, the sound of footsteps on metal, “Ghosts don’t knock.” Answered a much less breathy voice.

Kevin inhaled deeply, “Can I have a talk with you folks?” His voice sounded small and flat against the flat landscape.

Another thoughtful pause followed.

“Do ghosts usually ask to be let in?” “Smart ones do.” Kevin blew air out of his nose, “I’m not a ghost.” “That’s exactly what a ghost wo-” “Shut up Collie.” The door slid open and a blast of cool air rolled out and Kevin blinked into it for a moment. He looked up from two brown men’s oxford’s and confirmed his own worst fears.

There was a whole slew of wires and blinking lights and screens on the inside of the van. Electronics were stacked and piled and obviously not part of an FBI headquarters- or if it was FBI then the government was in far more trouble than anyone suspected.

Three people were inside. A girl was cross legged, another was stooped over a monitor, and one young man hung over Kevin like a loose bent tree. The whole group was dressed in black t-shirts and black pants, leather belts and heavy boots, a match set. Some sort of massive green goggles held one of the girl’s curly hair back and the young man had thick sunglasses with a similar green sheen to them. At night.

Kevin ran a hand through his hair and tried not to yank it, “Don’t mean to intrude.” He began, just as his grandma would have liked. “But I thought I should pay you a visit.” The three ghost-hunters exchanged a long look between them. The two young women had strikingly similar features, tan skin and darker brown hair tied up in wavy buns. They were both on the short side and had mouse-like noses in Kevin’s opinion.

Their eyes were similarly bright and curious, sisters? He didn’t have time to place it. 

Kevin was trying not to look directly at the young man in his terrible oxfords above him. 

“Well,” the man, boy? spoke first, breaking the silence, “We were just debating on the same thing when we saw you.” Kevin raised his eyebrows, “Oh?”

“That’s you, right man?” The guy pointed to his tiny hatchback and it somehow felt like a slight.

Kevin forced himself to look up, “Yeah.” The young man was broad-shouldered and annoyingly upright, the type of upright money could buy. He had a stretching expanse of neck, square jaw, and his face was easy in all regards. Roman straight nose, mouth that was far too satisfied with itself, and diamond shaped features. 

His hair was carefully curled at the top, a whip cream swirl on a professionally made cafe drink, brown and thick and very obviously never exposed to shampoo that stripped the roots.

Kevin employed a very small and very squiggly frown. The young man smiled, his teeth were straight, boxy, and streak-less, also the type money could buy. “Yeah, you should be careful,” he spoke with a flattened accentless-accent, not from here but from anywhere at all. “This road is haunted.” Kevin refused the temptation to roll his eyes. He cleared his throat instead and began carefully, briefly debating if he should shave off his local accent or soak his vowels in it like making backwoods rum pudding.

“Reckon everyone should stay away from it then,” he said pointedly, “must be dangerous.” He decided on rum pudding. The young man regarded Kevin through green-tinted glasses, unpolite and clearly not playing this game. He smiled with wicked delight, “Who are you?” It was asked in the way someone confirms a surprise purchase or family secret from a gossipy aunt. Unsurprised and yet ever so pleased about it.

Kevin took a deep breath and refused to duck down or look away, “Nobody. Just thought I should warn you as out-of-towners.” 

The young man took the time to squat, a quick and accusatory movement. “And what are you doing here, Nobody Man?” He was poking at something and Kevin thought a bit of lamb’s blood on his cheeks might improve his very smug appearance.

“Woah, woah, have you seen anything?” One of the girls asked, but the young man was still leering over him in a way that made him much more of a priority.

“Trying to stop anyone from getting hurt,” he said truthfully, “You should get out of here before,” he coughed into his hand, “Anything.” He didn’t need to give them any hints. The young man’s smile widened like a length of rope a magician kept pulling out of his sleeve. There just seemed to be more and more. “My name is Nathan Calvin,” he put his hand out to shake, “Those are the Alvarez sisters.” One of the sisters gave in a slight salute and the other one turned to him with an unhappy eyebrow twitch.

“How would you like to come up here, Nobody Man?” Nathan Calvin’s hand was still dangling in front of him, “You’re letting the cold air out here man and you came over to talk, right?”

The snake was wiggling its way in front of him in a very slick dance that meant very little to him.

Kevin hunched slightly, “I think it would be better if you considered hurrying on,” he gestured up the road, “this isn’t really a populated area. The highway is that way. And the nearest hospital is even further.” He stated without inflection. Nathan Calvin retracted his hand, but he didn’t seem any less pleased. “Come on up, come chat with us.” He boomed, “I’ll make it worth your while.” Kevin shoved his hand through his hair again, tired of this. “This isn’t the type of ghost you want to hunt.” You’re making my job harder.

Nathan cheered, “Somebody knows things!” He sang with a laugh, “what about some beer for your troubles? Money? Heck, Diana might give you kiss.” “That would take more beer than even you can afford Nathan.” Diana, the sharp-looking sister, said without looking up.

“Alright,” he chuckled, “no kisses, but I don’t think that’s what you’re here for anyway.” Kevin elegantly rolled his eyes this time, “If I talk to you will you leave?” Nathan Calvin just kept smiling. Kevin closed his eyes for a moment and then slipped his phone out to look at the time, 10:10.

“You have thirty minutes.” He climbed into the stupid shiny black van, “And then I’m escorting you out of here.”

Idiots.

They move aside and close the door behind him.

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

Belly of the Beast

Kevin was regularly uncomfortable- it was more of the jacket he wore for the possibility of rain and forgot to take off. His discomfort spiked as the light of the summer moon cut off as they shut the door, a pulled plug plunging him into a cavern of beeps and blinking things.

The sisters were curious, the boy was anticipatory, none of them were afraid in the slightest. Idiots.

Nathan Calvin took a seat cross-legged next to one of the sisters and patted the floor of the van in invitation. “Tell me your thoughts!” He yelled far too loudly in the echoey dark van.

Kevin narrowed his eyes at him, “Ghosts. Danger. Dying.” The boy laughed in answer. “Somebody take notes ladies.” One of the sisters, the one with the goggles looked up. “Have you seen her kill anyone?” Kevin’s frown became a tightening black hole on his face. Nathan put a hand up, “Hey now Collie,” he stopped her, “Let’s start with the small stuff.” He tilted his chin up, “Has she ever tried to kill you?” Collie, the goggles sister, was taking notes now. “No.” Kevin said truthfully, “But she will go after you,” he looked up at the ceiling, “It’s harder the more people there are.” Idiots.

Kevin discerned the groups feelings, not the fresh ones, but the dangling roots that burrowed deep and colored their every movement. There was a shimmering veil of glittering silver and gold guarding them. It was thick and glorious, their mothers had no doubt swaddled them in it from birth and let them walk out into the world armored, invincible, and foolish. It was the type money could buy. Nathan Calvin threw his arms in the arm, “Elaborate!” He was enjoying himself like a polo-shirted boy at a private swimming pool that was already two margarita's in.

“You’re making my job harder.” Kevin only had so much room in himself for elusiveness, “I’m trying to help, what will it take to leave this road, money? Beer?” He turned Nathan’s words on him brashly, “I’m sure we could find someone to kiss you.” Nathan Calvin became somehow more delighted.

The other sister, goggle-less, tilted her chin up proudly, “We’re prepared,” she said simply, “Though this is a nice confirmation that she’s really here.” Alright, well maybe it’s time to leave them to their fate, he could use some more sleep and less animal blood on his hands. Haircut, milk, homework.

He closed his eyes for a moment and let the fantasy wash over him- the one where he left here and sank into a nice long nap. Then he opened his eyes again, “Tell you what,” he spread out his own smile, more brittle, less careless, but fireproof all the same. “I’ll tell you everything I know, we could do it over a burger, there’s a 24-hour diner at least fifteen minutes away.” It was more like thirty, but they didn’t need to know that.

Nathan Calvin drenched his smile in lighter fluid, “When does she usually show up?” 

Kevin clenched his hands by his side and narrowed his eyes, “When your guard is down.” “Our guard won’t be down,” said the stony-faced sister.

“We could let it down,” Nathan Calvin contributed and for all of his easy smiles he was very difficult.

Kevin blew air out of his nose, “Fine.” He sat down heavily on the floor, “Damn yankees.” He muttered that last part to himself. Nathan leaned back, “you’re local then, right?” “Do you like, protect this road?” Collie asked quickly. “You’re not dead, right?” “We’d know if he was dead.” “Speak for yourself,” Collie waved a hand dismissively at her sister.

“How’d you find her?” Nathan asked next.

“And what should we expect?” The other Alvarez sister wasn’t looking directly at him, but she was looking all around the van anyway, alert. Alert was something at least.

Kevin waved a hand in front of his face; they were lucky Kevin didn’t only save people that he liked. Kevin growled, “I’m sure she’ll be here and answer your questions.” “Does she talk?” The goggles sister, Collie, buzzed. She had a heart-shaped face, soft round cheeks, and an exceptionally soft mouth; Kevin looked away. “That would be perfect.”

“No, no talking. And I’m Kevin,” he finally said. “Who are you?”

“She doesn’t talk?” The alert sister noted.

“What else does she do?” “Tries to murder you,” Kevin responded tartly.

Nathan shifted, putting his arms on his cross knees and leaning forward, “but not you.” Kevin looked up at the ceiling, “look, I don’t know what y’all are doing here but-” “Isn’t that obvious?” The alert sister said, who he was also now classifying as the ‘Mean Sister.’ “-but this isn’t a joyride,” he finished bitterly, “I don’t want anyone getting hurt on my watch.” He looked down at his phone clock, 10:31. It’s still early, he reminded himself with even breaths. “On your watch?” Nathan repeated his words with relish, “God, look at this Diana,” he looked back to Alert Mean sister, Diana. “And Misty said this would be a bust.” He laughed.

Collie crawled closer to Kevin, “What’s up then? Are you not a ghost hunter too? You’re just like, a grumpy guy on this road?” Kevin pinched his brow together, “No.” He said ruefully, “I’m not a ghost hunter.” Nathan stretched his long neck back, “This is going to be fucking amazing. Anything on the instruments, Di?” Diana checked the instruments, she rose one eyebrow and shook her head curtly.

“Do you want to die?” Kevin burst out, sitting up straight and trying to hold their leader’s gaze through his tinted sunglasses.

Nathan chuckled, “Tell me,” he clucked, “What do you do with this ghost then, Nobody Man?” Kevin groaned, he felt like he was having several conversations at once and no conversations at all. “Kevin.” Was all he said, a stony tone that hung in the air long enough to settle into burnt quiet.

“Well, I’m Colleen Alvarez. You can call me Collie,” Collie broke the silence, “That’s my sister Diana.” “Older,” Diana added as if to explain something. “Right, I’m Nathan and you can call me Nathan.”

“I know. You said,” Kevin glared at all of them, “and have you all ever met a ghost before, ghost hunters?” Nathan and the Alvarez sisters all exchanged a poignant look. And then something started beeping.

Diana turned on her heel, “The EMF is picking up on something.”

“Woah!” Collie chirped as well. “The digital thermometer is shitting itself.” The temperature in the van rapidly sank.

Kevin ignored them and checked his clock, 10:37, she was early, but ghosts were rarely reliable. “Shit.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and a growl rumbled through the small space like a rolling thunder storm.

Here she came.

<===== Previous Chapter                                                   Next Chapter =====>

————–

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[crossbows-and-moonshine]

Let The Flames Begin (Chapter 22)

Shit gets real in this one, fair warning for the feels, not good ones either.

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

~

A low groan left Daryl’s lips at the jolt of pleasure that shot through his body, his hand fisting his dick. His other hand was splayed on the cool tile in front of him as the warm water from the shower beat down on him. Merle was off doing fuck knows what and Daryl was grateful for once, he needed the peace. Especially after seeing Charlene today. Daryl was used to seeing the girl around when she was at work. What he wasn't used to, however, was her turning up at his place of work. He had worked the mechanic job for a few months now, he hoped to keep it but Merle always somehow fucked things up for him when it came to jobs. But he enjoyed it, working with his hands like that, fixing things. It made him feel good.

He had been working when Charlene had walked in the garage and he almost keeled right over. Seeing her in her work uniform from the diner or only being able to see the top half of her behind the store counter was one thing, but today it was hot outside, and she was wearing these tiny fucking denim shorts with a tank top. He ain't ever seen her dress like that before and he couldn't tear his eyes away from those fucking legs. She glanced around and when her eyes landed on him, she beamed a smile that made his heart beat all funny in his chest. The fuck was she so happy to see him for? She walked over and Daryl was painfully aware of the eyes on her, knowing just what kind of guys he worked with and the things that would be running through their heads. He had half a mind to pick her up and carry her back to her house so she could put on some damn pants. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the view, of course he did. But he knew every other prick in the room did too.

“Hey Daryl! I didn't know you worked here,” she grinned, making him grunt and nod as he chewed his lower lip. He tried to keep his eyes on her face and away from her tight tank top or legs. When he offered up no conversation, since he had no fucking game at all, she must have decided to just carry on talking.

“Do you think you guys could take a look at my car? It’s a piece of shit,” she frowned. Cars, that was a safe topic. Something that he could work with and use to distract himself.

“S’wrong with it?” he asked gruffly. She never seemed phased by his tone though, it was unsettling for him.

“There's a weird rattling noise when I accelerate and it keeps conking out on me,” she smiled sheepishly.

“Yeah, I can look at it,” he shrugged, wanting to be the one to do it so she didn't have to talk to any of these assholes.

“Thanks Daryl! Am I okay to wait here?” she asked, blinking up at him with those long lashes and green eyes. He didn't like the idea of her waiting here but he knew she wouldn't be able to get home without her car. It wasn't like he could take her home just yet since he was working, so it seemed the better option. The place didn't close for another hour, he knew if there was anything wrong with her car then it would have to stay here overnight, so he would offer her a ride in the truck. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Part of him secretly hoped she would be getting a ride home, to be spending some time alone with her like that. But most of him was too fucking chicken and hoped her car was just fine.

Daryl was pleasantly surprised by two things. First of all, the girl had just stuck by his side while he checked her car over. She hadn't acknowledged anyone else here which meant he didn't have to go breaking faces today. Second, she had been quiet, not bothering him with small talk or mindless bullshit. She just let him get on with his job. If he was some kind of sappy bastard, he might have thought something like she was perfect for him. But he wasn't, not at all. That thought didn't creep into his mind even once, or seven times.

“What's the verdict?” she asked with a smirk as he wiped his dirty hands on his coveralls.

“Yer motor mounts have gone to shit, ruptured. Gonna need fixin’ but we close in fifteen minutes, gonna have to wait ‘til tomorrow, “ he explained, watching her face fall. He felt bad he had caused that look, but it wasn’t his fault after all.

“Okay, Thanks Daryl, I appreciate this. I'll see you tomorrow,” she said, a weak smile on her lips as she slung her bag over her shoulder. This was it, he couldn't let her fucking walk home on her own like that. Shit, he had some manners.

“If ya wait a minute, let me change. I can take ya home,” he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument because like fuck he was giving her a choice. Her eyes widened a little and he half expected her to laugh or tell him to fuck the fuck off, that she wouldn't ever get in a car with him. But instead a bright smile graced her features and she seemed to relax. Maybe she was worried about her walking home too.

“You're a lifesaver, you know that?” she grinned, making him scoff and duck his head shyly. He fished his keys from his pocket and handed them to her. He wasn't about to leave her here whilst he got himself ready to go home.

“Go wait, it's the Gray-blue Ford F-250 outside,” he said, making her nod with a smile before she scurried off.

“Damn Dixon, ya lucky bastard! How’dya land a girl like her?” Dave called from the other end of the shop with a laugh. Daryl rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore him. He didn't correct him though. Maybe they'd all leave her alone if they thought she was his girl. It didn't take long before he was ready and in the driver's seat of his truck. He could smell her and it felt like it was suffocating him. His eyes kept sideglancing to her legs, those tiny fucking shorts would be the death of him. All he could think about were those legs wrapped around him as he fucked her senseless. He couldn't bring himself to talk. His thoughts were going places they shouldn't have gone and he was scared if he spoke she might somehow know. Thankfully she stayed quiet, seemingly content with the silence. He was relieved when he pulled up outside of her house, his dick was straining against his jeans and he needed to get the fuck out of dodge before she noticed.

“Thanks again Daryl, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she smiled, hopping out and walking to her door. Daryl didn't even try and stop himself from staring at her firm looking ass as she went, not like she could see him now anyhow. He sped off home, knowing his brother wouldn't be in. He was rarely in these days and Daryl was thankful for it. He knew his brother was up to no good, but he needed the peace. He went straight to the bathroom, tearing at his clothes almost frantically. His dick was throbbing, it was almost painful as he stepped under the spray of the water. Wasting no time as he gripped his cock and started stroking it. She made him feel like a damn horny teenager all over again. It didn't take long until he felt the pleasure building, the tingling that started at the base of his spine. He was panting and moaning, arching into his own hand as he imagined being buried deep inside the girl with the pretty green eyes.

~

Daryl's eyes shot open with a gasp, his chest heaving as he looked around frantically. He wasn't back at home jerking off to the girl, he was fucking sat next to her in the truck whilst his brother drove. His heart was thumping wildly in his chest, her scent was fucking choking him as it filled his nostrils, making his head spin after the dream he had. Merle and Charlene glanced to him. Merle knew better than to ask him about it, assuming it was a nightmare. Daryl had been having nightmares since a young boy and Merle knew to leave well enough alone.

“Are you okay?” Charlene asked carefully, he was sweating and his face was flushed. He looked spooked.

“Need air, let me out,” he demanded, his voice sounding panicked. Merle hit the brakes and Daryl flung himself out the door, sucking in air greedily. Man, why did he have to be such a fucking pervert? Dreaming about one of the many times he touched himself thinking about her. Only to wake up and have her right there, her side pressed against his. He just needed to cool off for a fucking second. He flinched when he felt a hand on his arm, whipping around to come face to face with the girl he had been dreaming about. He swallowed thickly and looked down at the floor.

“Bad dream?” she asked, giving him a wary smile.

“S’nothin’,” he grunted, not wanting to outright lie to her but unable to tell her just what it was.

She just nodded and let his arm go, letting him relax a little. He finally managed to calm his breathing and settle himself.

“Uh...whilst we’re out here...I kinda need to pee,” she said sheepishly, her cheeks flushing as she avoided his eyes. He just blinked at her for a moment before nodding. They'd done this a hundred times by now but it never got less awkward. Daryl went over to the truck, peeking his head in the open window.

“She’s gotta piss, be back in a few,” he said, making Merle snort and nod as he handed his brother his bow. Daryl went back over to her and lead her into the wooded area they were near. He had his bow ready in case it was needed and turned his back as she did her business.

An hour later and he was still in the woods, but this time for a different reason. When they had gone back to the truck Merle had said he was itching to hunt something so they decided just to look about in the woods near the truck for some game. He knew it was the fact that his brother was antsy, Daryl was really proud of how far his brother had come with lessening his drug use, it made him feel hopeful that his brother might actually get clean one day. It was evident just how antsy Merle was with the fact that he was willing to leave the truck and bike on the main road as they all went through the woods. But they knew not to go too far. They hadn’t caught a damn thing though and it was about to start getting dark.

Daryl walked on ahead a little, crouching to examine some tracks. Seemed to be a rabbit, maybe they would catch something after all.

“Mother fucker!” he heard Merle yell out from behind him and then Charlene cried out his name. He whipped around with his bow ready to see Merle with a dead fuck on top of him whilst he lay on the floor. Charlene shocked the shit out of herself and Daryl when she swung her tomahawk down into the soft skull on the dead prick, making it go limp. Daryl ran over, pushing the fucker off his brother in a panic. His brother was out cold, no doubt from the fall, maybe hit his head or something. But Daryl was frantic as he checked him over for a bite. When he didn't see one, he relaxed infinitely, standing and wiping a hand over his face with a shaky hand.

“Daryl!” Charlene gasped, tugging on his arm. He looked to where she was staring at only to see a whole bunch of the dead stumbling through the trees, no doubt after hearing his brother yell like he did. His heart seized up as he looked to his brother unconscious on the floor.

“Get the fuck back to the truck!” he called out, slinging his bow over his shoulder as he crouched next to Merle.

“What?! I'm not going without you!” she cried, terror gripping her soul as she glanced to the dead who were approaching them.

“Girl, I ain't gonna tell ya twice! I need to get him outta here! I'll follow ya! Just go!” he snarled, not having her fucking do this to him. He couldn't focus on keeping them both safe like this, he needed all his attention on his brother. His tone had her scurrying off, knowing not to argue. He hooked his arms under Merle's armpits and started dragging his dead weight, trying to be as quick as he could. He thanked his lucky stars the dead weren't fucking runners, that shit would be scarier than this.

His heart was beating erratically, he couldn't even use his weapon like this. He just needed to get his brother back to the truck. He dragged him, ignoring the burning in his arms and as he finally made it to the road, his heart shattered when he saw no sign of the girl.

“Charlene? Charlene?!” he called out, panic lacing his words as his head whipped around. She wasn't here. He felt a searing pain in his chest and then he heard the dead getting closer. He needed to get Merle in the truck before they came through the trees and saw them. They’d never be able to get out the damn thing with all of them surrounding it. He opened the door and grunted as he hauled Merle into the seat, laying him down and chucking a jacket over him so the dead didn't catch a glimpse of him. He slammed the door shut, crouching in the footwell. It was uncomfortable, he wasn't fucking small, but he didn't have a choice. Where the fuck was she? His heart was burning as he pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, the tears threatening to fall. She was out there all alone with all these dead fucks. He couldn't go to her, they were already walking passed them, the truck kept rocking as they bumped into it and a choked sob left his lips. What was he thinking? Sending her off on her own like that, like she was as skilled as he and Merle were at navigating the woods. He tugged on his hair harshly, angry at himself for being so stupid and careless, and now she was out there alone and scared. Without him or his brother to keep her safe.

Merle stirred, a soft groan leaving his lips as his eyes fluttered open,

“The fuck?” he asked wearily, taking note at how he was now laying in the truck.

“Shut the fuck up!” Daryl hissed, eyes wide and feral looking. Merle couldn't see him from how he was lay but he heard the panic in his voice. Merle's keen sense of hearing picked up on the many groans and how their truck rocked back and forth. He held his breath realising what was going on. It felt like forever until the truck stopped moving and the noises dulled down and Merle sat up. He looked around and a deep frown etched onto his face when he realised they were the only two there.

“Where the fucks the girl?” Merle barked glaring at his brother as he got out from the footwell, grabbing his bow.

“Fuckin’... I told her to run when all the dead came. Told her to go to the truck so I could get ya back and...and she ain't here man! She’s just..she’s fuckin’ gone!” Daryl lamented, sounding scared and angry.

“Ya fuckin�� lost her?!” Merle yelled, making Daryl clench his jaw and squeeze his eyes shut. He didn’t need his brother to point out what a fucking failure he was. He knew just how much of a failure he was all on his own.

Daryl didn't need to even say a word to his brother as they both jumped out of the truck. There were only a few stragglers left now and Merle jabbed his knife into an eye socket of one whilst Daryl let a bolt fly into the temple of another. Both being of the same mind, they wordlessly went back to where Merle had been knocked out. That was the last time they had seen the girl and Daryl hoped to fuck they could track her from there, that all the dead hadn't fucked up the tracks. She wasn't there, not that he expected her to be since he had told her to run and saw her. He glanced in the direction that he saw her running and his heart sank. How the fuck hadn't he noticed she had run the wrong fucking way? He resisted the urge to yell, to fucking kick something as he tugged again harshly at his hair and he clenched his jaw. Merle watched him carefully, seeing him starting to unravel. He was worried but he wasn't about to make Daryl feel worse than what he already clearly did.

Daryl walked the way she went, looking on the floor for some tracks but he couldn't make much out with all the dead fucks footprints all over. He walked through some trees, stopping dead as his heart clenched so painfully he felt it might just explode.

“No. No no no!” he yelled as he shook his head, making Merle push past him to see just what he had seen. Merle relaxed when he didn't see the girl’s mangled eaten body lay there but it didn't help any that her pack was there covered in blood. Merle tried to quell the panic inside of him, he needed to be the big brother here. Daryl shook his head, his resolve of trying to be quiet gone as he let out a mix between an anguished cry and an angry yell. He doubled over, falling to his knees as he sucked in harsh breaths, broken sobs leaving his lips. She was gone. She was dead and it was all his fault. How had he failed her this badly? It was obvious she hadn't got out of this alive. The amount of blood on the pack, all the tracks from the biters.

Merle swallowed thickly as Daryl's gut-wrenching cries filled up the space surrounding them and he tried to stuff it all down. The girl was gone, it was pretty fucking clear at this point and he hated how it made his heart ache dully inside of his chest. He walked over to Daryl, crouching next to him and Daryl all but lunged at him. Clinging to him like a life raft as he sobbed helplessly. The only other time Merle had seen his little brother this upset was after their mother had died. And right now Daryl was more boy than man as he cried like a small child. It only made the dull ache grow in Merle's chest.

“I got ya baby brother,” he muttered, cradling his head as he squeezed his own eyes shut. He heard rustling behind them and a few biters were on their way. He wasn't surprised with the racket his brother was making.

“We gotta go Daryl,” Merle said firmly, Daryl didn't move though, even when Merle stood up. Daryl just sat on his knees, tears falling down his dirty cheeks as he glared at the girls pack.

Merle grabbed it, slinging it over his shoulder and yanking his brother up by the arm. He dragged Daryl through the forest and pushed him into the truck when they got there. Now in the safety of the truck, he glanced to his little brother as he was staring vacantly out the window.

“Daryl...Shit, I’m sorry brother,” Merle lamented, his own voice cracking a little as he glanced to the pack in his lap. He had grown fond of the tiny little thing, and now she was just gone. Daryl was silent, too silent for Merle's liking as he watched him warily. Without warning, Daryl reached out and grabbed Merle's gun and went to put it into his mouth, but Merle snatched it away before he fucking put a bullet in his head. The bullet went off and lodged itself into the roof of the truck as Merle glared at him, smacking him upside the head. He knew his brother was hurting, but like hell he was gonna put up with this bullshit.

“Just let me fuckin’ do it Merle! She's dead ‘cause of me! I fuckin’ failed her!” Daryl yelled ferociously, but Merle knew the anger wasn’t directed at him. Daryl was angry at himself.

“Ya didn't fail her Daryl, ya kept her alive for as long as ya did. Ya sent her off thinkin’ it would help, it ain’t yer fault,” Merle tried to reason with him. He couldn't remember seeing his brother this wild looking. Daryl growled, kicking the dash in a temper as he pulled at his hair. Merle watched on, he knew nothing he said would make this easier on him and his heart was breaking for him. Daryl put his head in his hands, his chest heaving. How could the world be so cruel? After every single thing he had endured in his life, every ounce of pain he was dealt, how could he lose the only good thing he had left? How could life be so fucking cruel to do this to him?  He sat up, wiping his eyes and sniffling and Merle eyed him carefully.

He saw it, the moment his brother shut down. This was what happened when their mother died. Daryl had switched off, his brain wanting to numb the pain. The only thing he had felt was anger and that was it and Merle knew he was doing it all over again. Daryl stared out of the window, letting the numbness take over, welcoming the relief from the blinding pain he was feeling from the grief.

“We should uh...we should head to Atlanta still. See what's there,” Merle muttered. It felt wrong somehow to still go, to even say that after what happened. But they couldn't just sit here whilst his brother had a fucking mental breakdown. He had to take charge and deal with this before it got out of hand.

“Do what ya want,” Daryl huffed, still staring ahead. He didn't give two shits what they did now, he didn't care of the biters fucking got to him. He fucking deserved it for what he did. She was dead because of him. The light in his life had been snuffed out in an instant and now he had nothing. Fuck the world. The world never did anything for him. He had tried so hard to be a better man, to do better than his name and the curse that followed it. But he always got shit on, nothing ever went right. What was the point in trying to be a better man if this was all he got? He would just be the asshole he knew was hidden deep inside of him. He would fucking live up to that wretched Dixon name because why the fuck not? He didn't have a reason to be a better man anymore. He didn't owe the world shit.

(I’mma just leave this here for reference. *cackles and runs off into the night*)

Taglist; @risingphoenix761 @daryldixonandfrogs @arlaina28 @divadinag @keeperofwonderlandus @jodiereedus22 @easnuppa @fand0m-fiend @txladyj-blog @walkingdead-dixon

[writing-frenzy]

Wuxia/Xianxia/Xuanhuan BL story ideas for anyone who wants them.

This is basically a dumping place for the said genres, because after reading so many, I just couldn’t help but think them up, even if I will never write them. But others might like them, so I thought why not? (though if anyone ever does write something, or has seen anything similar elsewhere, please tell me so I can read them.)

Warning: ideas got long, and some themes maybe sensitive: ie: Violence, Murder, Child abandonment, fighting, torture all that good stuff you find in these genres 

First Idea: the things a Good Teacher can alter

So, basically, MC was a guy from our world, who ended up dying and being reborn into another one... centuries before a certain book he read even takes place. Needless to say, he doesn’t remember it. (after all, one can only read about so many stallion protags and their harem fun times before they all kind of bleed together into one mash up.)  

But on the other hand, being able to literally do magic and all is still very much a thing he would like, so why the hell not become a cultivator? So he joins a sect, manages to pass it’s entrance trial by the grit of his teeth and becomes an outer disciple of one of the Peak Lords, learning all he needs to from his senior brothers and sisters. Everything should be great, right? 

Well, here is the thing: it is hard as heck; Turns out, he has a constitution that makes cultivating near impossible for him. Getting out of the first stages of Qi Refining and forming his Golden Core took forever it seems, and when he finally made it to the Immortal stage, he feels as if he had been run over by a bus after he was rung out of all his energy. it’s like whatever a normal person has to do to make it, it takes him not two, not even three, but a hundred times more to accomplish. But hey, he has a thirty-ish young body for all the years he’s really been alive and he still has magic, so it could have been worst.

(though if one wants to give him a golden finger of sorts; he has an absolutely insane pain tolerance :D things that would cause even the most mighty of Martial Heros to fall would be like, ‘huh, is something poking me?’. or chronic pain is also a thing if you want to be mean :) )

Only... Now that he has time for the actual world, he notices how his Sect’s state of affairs seem to be on the decline, with less and less people there now, most of them moving on to bigger and better things, bigger and better Sects and Clans. How the politics in his own Sect seem to be going to bigger and higher stakes, and how disagreements and feuds even end up almost destroying everything, a few Peak lords even dying from it.

These reasons all combined end up making MC one of the very few Immortals Golden Core Cultivators in the sect. It is because of this, that he ends up becoming a Peak Lord.

And Irony of Ironies, he is actually pretty damn good at it. (My idea is that in a previous life, MC was a Teacher or an Office worker, or maybe even both.)

Now, MC does not have want one would usually consider a golden finger, he is not the one who gets good things in life; in fact, he usually suffers and gets little to no reward from it... The same, on the other hand, can not be said for his disciples.

Disciple 1: ends up being the long lost son of an extremely wealthy family, who dies in the original novel for tragic backstory/emotional motive/character development for a novel character, only for MC to have saved them, then kept them because oh, high constitution for cultivation + bad idea for a grieving child this pretty to go to an orphanage. (glaring at them slavers out of the corners of his eye)

MC: Hey, I know it sucks what just happened, take as long as you need to recover. and hey, if you feel up to it, after you decide what to do, you can even join my sect and learn cool things.

D1: *sees things he can learn* ... I will never be so helpless again.

*Years later*

Wandering Clan: Young Master! You are well and alive! and they have been treating you well, even letting you learn Cultivation? Truly a noble sect, worthy of our loyalty!

MC’s Sect: + 1 business division, + a bunch to treasury

Disciple 2: Sibling to one of the Harem members, had thought she had been left for dead/slavers in the original novel by their sister and had been a tough, regularly appearing villain for a while until the protag has her see the error of her ways and became a harem member as well. Only once more, does MC save her from her situation, ending up getting him her gratitude and has her actually look really close at her situation and helps her look into the mystery of it all even as he takes her as his student.

MC: yeah, I’m only hearing about this second hand, and even I can see the holes in the story couldn’t even cover a hobo’s modesty. There is obviously more to this tale then meets the eye.

D2: ... *sparkles as she learns more on how to be a detective, Cultivation style*

*Years later*

Big Name Clan head: Ah, once again you have solved such a terrible crime and even this time shown how I have been framed! Truly a noble lady such as yourself have wishes? Please let me reward you!

MC’s Sect: + 1 Big Backer, + 1 to fame + a bunch more disciples for other Peaks

Disciple 3: the actual main villain of the series, he joins his sect when, during a night hunt, one of the Sect’s Elders watches him actually manage to kill the monster due to luck and a bit of skill; unfortunately he has some sort of dark inheritance + abusive teachers and fellow students in his sect who made him disillusioned with the lighter path and chased him into darkness... only here, MC strikes again, with him finding this poor abandoned child first, saving them from getting injured and taking them home to be well cared for and properly coached through the troubles of life.

MC: Crap, damn it, oh fuck that is more blood spilling then I am comfortable with, hang on little guy I will have this treated soon.

D3:... No one has ever cared for me so much. *Childish hero worship + instant loyalty.*

*Years Later*

Fangirls and boys: AHHHH D3 is just so cool, he is so awesome, so handsome!

MC’s Sect: +1 for fame, plus a bunch of more disciples for the sect.

Disciple 4: Female Canon Fodder, originally in the novel to act parallel to the Female Lead and make her look one hundred times better in comparison in looks, personality and even morals. But here is still insecure teenage girl who, before she could be blacken and disillusioned, wants more in her life then to be an ornamental vase for a future wealthy husband, finds out that MC’s Sect not only takes women, but also actually trains them in ways of Martial arts/Cultivation/Pill Refining/Whatever? (Sign her the fuck up.)

MC: oh, you want to learn? Sure, let’s start. *is a great teacher who actually teaches equally*

D4: *is a wide-eyed sponge* I will follow.

*Years Later*

D4′s Clan: Ah, yes, that great girl is indeed a daughter of our clan, bringing glory and honor to our names, with men lining up only in hopes she will but glance at them. 

MC’s Sect: + a Big Backer, + Fame, + more followers

Disciple 5: The Hidden Boss; the illegitimate son of a family (from wife or husband, whichever you desire), was outcast from them all without ever knowing why, not even allowed to learn his family’s martial arts and abilities even though he was incredibly talented and skilled at everything else he learned. In the original novel, he at first seemed like a helpful NPC family member of Protag/Harem member who would explain or even help the Protag and his harem, them all unknowing that he was in fact causing 30% of their problems. But here, MC notices Hidden Boss’s potential, sees how these people just seem to be wasting talent and goes;

MC: Hey, I can take him in!

Those who actually care about the kid: *sees all his other ducklings and the good rumors of his teachings.* sure, better with you then here.

Those who don’t care about the kid. *Sees the funny, ‘weak’ Peak Lord of a dying sect who is pretty far away from them* sure, as long as he’s not here.

*Year’s Later:

D5: *very successful, powerful, strong, and wealthy* Hello.

D5′s Clan: *sweats*

MC’s Sect: + 1 Fame, + Money, + Honor, + a whole bunch more.

 Disciple 6: Female character who was basically created solely for the need to give the Protag character, emotional, and background development in the story, and then die in the most fan pissing off way imaginable. yeah, you know what I’m talking about, a girl giving only one dimension to her structure, who has a profound effect on the main character for how little time they were together, and then just killed off before we even get the chance to even learn more! Only here, instead of staying wherever she was before, she either gets picked up by MC early on on one of his recruitment drives or hears of the sect’s growing fame and awesome female disciples and decides she wants more (like she deserves)

MC: oh, you’re pretty good at that! I can see real talent for you here; would you like to learn more?

D6: Yes please! ^_^

*Years Later*

D6: *A Noble Empress, eyes cutting just like her sword arts, her elemental affinity working in twine with it as she delivers a finishing blow to her monsterous foe* Huh, I’m pretty sure these are some prime ingredients for Cultivation, I must be careful to preserve and dismantle effectively!

MC’s Sect: + Fame, + Fortune, + a crap ton of good things. 

Whatever order you want them to come in, it’s up to you, just have fun with it.

But yeah, these are not the only changes from the original novel; for example, MC’s sect should have been destroyed/abandoned/deserted, only a footnote because of some obscure fact that needed to be know. (example: This monster is so terrible, it destroyed three sects! or MC’s Sect is the only one who knew of a technique to cure this poison; either find a survivor/search the ruins) Only for luck, the MC, and his lucky students to have saved it all in the end.

Note: To makes things more interesting, I think it would be funny if there were more Reincarnations/Transmigrators closer to the story line, but in shock of the differences to add to the comedy value.  

Idea Two: The System messed up, like a boss!

Now, how this idea starts out is a bit different: it’s just a bit before the MC dies, showing that they have been a normal guy before they had found themselves held captive by some obsessed stalker/killer for a long time, who has made it to where if they MC ever tried to harm them in any way or form, it would just end up guaranteeing his own death.

And after enduring this literal hell for what feels like years now, here are MC’s thoughts on the matter.

MC: Okay then. *proceeds to rip his tormentor's own throat out with his teeth*

(Now, it is up to the writer if they want to hide this dark history or not, maybe hinting here and there about it.)

Cue them suddenly being connected to the system!

MC: ... what?

System: Hiiii~ I’m-

ERROR!

*Suddenly cut off, MC goes through one hell of a disorienting experience, only to wake up in some child’s body.

MC: What

Child’s Soul that still barely remains in the body: Please, I just want to see what’s beyond these walls, just once. 

*sudden mindwammy of memories of the slavery this child has gone through, the torture from their masters, the cruelty of bystanders that just stand by.*

What the child’s words in a way mean: (I want to see one good thing, just one about this world, before I die.)

MC:... Okay then. *proceeds to rip out their current body’s Master’s throat, due to surprise, his soul not be the one that is enslaved, and a strange sort of energy*

(And maybe here it could be hinted about what happened if one wants to hide the MC’s past, about how this wasn’t the first time he’s tasted blood on his teeth or ripped out a person’s throat.)

This in the end erases the remaining slave binds on him, and makes it easy to escape the mansion he is being held in. Even better, it seems the place is also being raided by some group, so it’s even easier for MC to be lost in the confusion. When he is finally far enough away, when the distance finally feels just enough, the MC lets himself fall to the ground, right next to a shrub of some sorts before he finally takes a breath and fully taking in his surroundings.

Only to lose it as he finally takes in the scenery: a pretty jade like valley of some sorts, soft hills of green turned darker and yet still shining in the moonlight from a full moon and the stars all around them. You know those pictures of places with no light pollution on islands and such? This is what he see in this moment.

And both souls are in complete awe of it.

Child Soul: so beautiful... I never knew it (the world) could be so beautiful.

MC: I forgot it could be.

Child Soul: ... Thank you! Thank you so much! *smiles and passes on to bigger and better things.

It is after this bit of peace and quiet, that finally the system comes back.

System: Ah, sorry, technical difficulties, did not expect that; Anyways, I am the System, to help you in your role for your next life!

MC: ...Role?

System: Yes! You are the “Villainous Boss’ of -insert story name here-! I am the ‘Like a Boss’ System, ensuring one will act as a truly terrifying villain!

MC: *thinking* You said the VB of that story, aren’t they -insert villian’s name-?

System: Yes!

MC: The young Master who fell from the mountains and ended up following dark paths and murky unknowns?

System: Yes.

MC: the Villain who was dark haired and eyed, who’s skin was pale as jade was said to be, and could make man and woman go mad over his charm?

System:... Yes?

MC:... I think there has been a mistake. 

1:Considering that this was a child who was sold into slavery very young, to a point they don’t even know about parents, has dealt with the hell that is slavery to cruel masters, and would have in fact died just now if MC didn’t make a way through. {2} actually does have a name, and isn’t the same at all as the Villain. {3} the Body does not in anyway have dark hair or eyes, and the skin is not pale as jade (not to mention charm, unless someone is weak for poor orphaned waifs).

Yeah, a mistake has been made.

System: ah.... oh dear; maybe you do a switch a roo?

only, turns out that they find that would be impossible as well, because not only are they way before the story line even starts, MC’s constitution is very... Strange. (Basically, because MC could be classified as a Vengeful spirit, if only for the way he died, but due to him already getting said revenge, and even helping another soul pass on to the pure lands, he has a very high, very good constitution for Cultivation... both righteous and demonic. and his body needs to maintain an about equal level between the both of them, otherwise it gets out of wack and could cause most painful death.)

So, MC has to maintain tasks from the system, acting like a boss, and do certain things (like joining certain sects, to betraying a comrade, to even slaughtering a group of people sadistically ); luckily, he doesn’t actually have to be a villain, but he does have to act like it, which gives ideas.

MC: Okay, I will be the red herring Villain! The, it’s so obvious it just can’t be them kind of guy! 

System: DX ... why not, it might work.

And hilariously enough, it does :D I imagine MC would act like a combination between Ichimaru Gin from Bleach and Murkuro from KHR, clever, twisting, manipulative, and yet surprisingly playful and cruel when one least expects it. (that he has loyal fanatical followers with yandere tendencies goes without saying, though he has no idea; He has high intelligence, can understand emotions and motives, but does at times not realize just how much people have actually bonded with him himself.)

Examples of his relationships.

Twins he found: the famous mirrored twins, one going down the path of darkness and cruelty, even as one heads for the path of good and light; maybe in the original story they had been separated, or a distance was placed between them due to misunderstandings and jealousy. MC had gotten a get one and get the other free tag a longs, finding them when they were young and hadn’t yet joined a sect, only ending up bonding with them. Though he is admittedly worried about betrayal and being put down from them in the future, he still bonds and helps them as much as he can.

Though-

Twin 1: MC! MC! I’ve gotten even better in my Demonic cultivation!

Twin 2: shhhh, not so loud! But anyways, I have gone even farther levels in my out Righteous Cultivation.

MC: ... That’s nice?

They are like his most trusted advisors/Inner circle members (of course he would have one, any good villian would :D ) completely willing to do what must be done for their brother in arms and most trusted friend. (the one who had been there for them at their lowest, the one who was able to keep them all together, sacrificing what he needed, adding so many scars to his one body just to spare them. They are the ones who best know about the man he is, for they were the ones who saw how he was forged, turning his words, his looks, and even his smiles into the terrifying weapons they are today. He is the one who showed them you can be bathed in darkness and still be ever so good, something they will help with as much as they can.   

His First Disciple: Now, MC does take his teaching duties seriously, whether he is an elder in the sect or even a peak lord (though I would think it would be awesome if he was a Librarian), so he would be very attentive with his pupil, even if he teases and gently picks on them, messing with them as they grow older. MC originally took this kid because he remembers them from the novel as the one who helps the protagonist, who was thought to be an enemy only to be the secret ally. So he is pretty sure the kid will betray him eventually, especially since he let’s them in on all his shady practices and dealings with demonic cultivatior and/or actually demon folk. And with them being a complete Kuudere, it seems that way..

Only...

1st D: I will follow my Master to the end of my days. and if my death could be of service to him, I will have died with a light heart.

MC: wtf no! No dying for me!

The kid turns completely and utterly into his proud minion, happily doing what ever his dear Master asks of him. (after all, who was it that pulled him from the darkness, who showed him such care and attention, always there with a kind word and a joke whenever he was troubled? There was no one but him who wanted him, not during these long years, only for him to be pick specifically? ha, he will follow all his days, just as long as he can remain at his side.)

Very powerful Demon Lord (not king): Someone MC met while still young and unattached to a sect thought; hey, let’s get my consorting with darkness task down! After all, this guy was a well known villain in the series, a troublemaker through and through, who betrayed and sacrificed his minions and others like pawns. Once again, MC thinks he’s going to get betrayed eventually, but hey, the guy ain’t all bad and he’s pretty friendly even! though... 

Demon Lord that is in fact in control of a very terrifying and large territory: Sir, would you like me to take your coat? maybe even a drink? *orders a very expensive and luxury wine.*

MC: *eyes him suspiciously, but nods* I am willing. 

why they insist on waiting hand and foot on him always weirds them out. (For the Half-demon, half-human, it only makes sense; this person is their benefactor, so overwhelmingly powerful, just being near them strengths them, who he has picked him up even while he was a weakling and saw promise, made a gamble on that promise and even to this day still profits. Who is honestly even more terrifying then the demon King in DL’s eyes, and desires to please him all the more, so that he too can always serve this higher life form in his eyes.)

And these are just some examples, mostly all of them would probably be the inner circle I said he had XD

But wait, you might ask; what about those tasks you mentioned, how could betraying a comrade or slaughtering a group of people sadistically be good? here we go :D

betraying a comrade:

MC: okay, so, this guy is embezzling funds, this asshole is abusing his students, and this.. one...

System: ...?

MC:... “This one is raping their own Disciples, huh?” is said ever so softly, their eyes half-lidded even as they stare at the profile picture of the filth. “When they go on their next mission, make sure I am one of their backups, hmmm? I haven’t had the chance to push anyone off a cliff yet, have I?”  

Answer: In a big sect, everyone should be your comrade; that you are betraying their expectations, their values, or even ratting them out all make it up. (and cold-hearted murder always works for the scum of the earth too!)

slaughtering a group of people sadistically: 

System: so, we have a group of Demonic cultivators consorting with slave dealers, we have some criminals over here doing despicable things there, and we have traitors over here, what do you want to do?

MC: how about all of them?

Answer: what about those no one would miss :D

Notes: I would find it so funny if the MC was actually an animal magnet; like, birds will happily eat from his hand, deer will sleep right next to him, guardian beasts will want to protect him and keep him safe because god damn it, hasn’t this poor soul been through enough?! (be cool if this was one of the reasons why the sect leader actually trusts him; he has a bond with a guardian beast that can maybe read the soul or something, which MC has no clue about, so thinks nothing about how this beast keeps wanting to cuddle him.

but you want to know what? Out of everything, with all the the MC is doing? All they truly want in life is peace and rest, maybe even a shoulder to rest his weary head upon when life gets to much. (but thanks to the system and it’s tasks, he will never be able to truly have it.)

huh, this got pretty long.... eh, I had more ideas, but I think I’ll leave it here for now. If anyone wants more Wuxia/Xianxia/Xuanhuan , I might make a part two!

[poor-sickies]

hey I'm the anon who asked for braces Lance, i was thinking maybe he had to get when he's like nineteen and feels kinda upset about having them so late when usually people get them in middle or high school? And idk he just feels self conscious and uncomfortable, plus he's hurting, so Keith tries to distract him because he went through having braces too?

Ahh this is such an old request and I’m so sorry I’m only writing it now! It was kind of a quick thing, so I hope there aren’t any mistakes. It’s also a fic that happens in my band AU. I hope you like it!

Also kudos to @cinquefoilelove who left some replies that gave me ideas for this one :)

*

“Can I come in?”

It’s Keith voice from the other side of the door, and despite their usual and familiar bickering, Lance can be sure he hasn’t come to make fun of him.

But he still wants to be alone.

He knows he’s probably making a big deal out of this – and really, it’s not even that bad, all things considered. All in all, it’s nothing worse than a simple teenage drama, in Lance’s opinion.

Except he isn’t really a teenager anymore, he’s nineteen, and nineteen year olds shouldn’t be getting braces.

It had started with some dull pains in his lower jaw, the joint clicking each time he opened his mouth, getting worse and worse until he was avoiding eating and singing because of the discomfort.

While visiting his family on Thanksgiving, his parents had noticed the problem and dragged him to a dentist. The outcome was…not pleasant. Something about a bad positioning of his jaw that needed to be fixed? Lance can’t recall the details over the dread filling his stomach, but the only solution was braces, and he was not happy.

And just because some days just kept getting worse, this morning, on his way to the dentist, he receives a call from Hunk, about a last-minute scheduled show Allura had got for them tonight, at the local University bar.

Two hours later, returning from the dentist, and he’s starting to wonder if he’s brave enough to go through with the show at all.

Just talking feels difficult enough, with all the wires and foreign pieces muddling his speech, and the new sores around his cheeks and tongue stinging at every little movement of his mouth. Not to mention the annoying and constant pressure all over his gums and jaw. If Lance had the night to himself, he would probably head to bed right after dinner with a couple of painkillers and hope it all felt a little better tomorrow.

The prospect of singing for fifty people isn’t nearly as appealing as usual when he’s in this much pain.

And looking in the mirror only reminded him of why this all had bothered him so much in the first place.

It’s no secret to anyone that Lance puts a lot of effort in his appearance. Even before stepping up as frontman of the band, his image has always been something he pays a lot of attention to. And even though he’s seen a lot of cute girls that look adorable in braces, he’s wasn’t exactly confident about how it all would look on him.

Now that he has the answer, he feels an urge to hide any mirror in sight.

How is he supposed to talk to his fans? To sing for them? He feels so unattractive and awkward, and not even his upbeat personality will help. Lance’s confidence is enough when he’s wearing his best shirts, glowing skin, crooked smirk that leaves the girls swooning, but that’s where most of it comes from.

He doesn’t care if his mother said he looked fine, these braces make him feel awkward and young all over again. He doesn’t know if he’s more embarrassed about the way he looks or the extent to which he’s taking this drama, but either way, he wants to be alone.

So no, the last thing he wants to do is to talk, even with Keith.

“I wanna be alone.”

But Keith was nothing if not persistent. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and open the damn door.”

And brutally honest, for that matter.

Lance opens the door and Keith goes in, quickly taking a seat on the edge of the bed, his arms crossed against his chest.

“So,” he starts, “you wanna talk about it?”

Lance sits cross legged in the floor, leaning against the bed. “You just told me to stop feeling sorry for myself.”

Keith is caught off guard for a moment. He was expecting Lance to just spill things out, like he usually did, but apparently, this was getting to him a bit more than usual.

“I- look, I’m just trying to help, okay? Talking usually makes you feel better, right? So talk to me.”

“It’s uncomfortable,” Lance sighs, looking down at his lap, “and my speech is all fucked up, and my tongue is cut up all over, and my teeth hurt and - it looks bad. I look like a middle school kid. It just looks so awkward…so yeah, that’s it. You happy now?”

“I think you’re being dramatic,” Keith says, “I mean, I get the pain, I’ve been there - your teeth are moving, of course it’s gonna hurt for a while - but you don’t need to feel self-conscious about it. Besides, you’re only wearing them for like… a year, is it?” Lance nods, looking down, and Keith carries on. “Try wearing them for three years, maybe then you’ll have a reason to sulk.”

Well. It’s nothing he hadn’t expected from Keith. Trust Keith to be blunt.

“You had braces for that long?” He manages to ask.

Keith nods, eyes rolling involuntarily at the unpleasant memories. “Yeah. It sucked. I’d show you pictures if I had them - I’m sure you’d feel a lot better about yourself after seeing them.”

“That bad?”

“Oh yeah,” Keith continues, “Yours look somewhat discrete, actually.”

Lance scoffs. “Yeah, they sure are really invisible,” he trails off sarcastically.

Keith sighs. This isn’t working so well.

“Do you remember last summer when you were drunk and Pidge convinced you to get a death hawk for that rock festival, and you shaved half of your head?”

“Wow Keith, is that how you’re trying to make me feel better? By bringing up all the times I looked freaking terrible?”

“Would you just hear me out?!” Keith interrupts loudly, clinging to every last ounce of patience he still has. “Do you remember what you said at the time? The next day, when you saw yourself in the mirror?”

“That I would hide in my room and never see the sunlight again…?”

“Exactly. But you got over it. Do you remember why?”

Lance rolls his eyes. “Uh, cause… hair grows back?”

“No. Because you get used to it,” Keith says, “look, I’ve been there, okay? I know how much it sucks. But I can promise you, it’s not always gonna feel like that. And honestly, people don’t care that much.”

“Ugh. I hate it when you actually sound reasonable.” Lance sighs. “Alright. I’ll try to keep positive. And hope the show doesn’t go terribly.”

Keith chuckles with a fond smile. “Now will you come? We still have to get some dinner before.”

“Ah, that’s gonna be fun..” Lance rolls his eyes, and gets up. “Let’s get moving.”

*

“Hm. I see you’ve added something,” Shiro says as Lance takes a seat beside him, at their usual table at the bar.

“Yeah,” Lance chuckles, still looking down, “lucky me.”

“Oh Lance,” Allura says, “you have such a nice smile. I’m certain that’s what people notice right away.”

“I - thanks, Allura,” Lance blushes, feeling better for the first time since the day started.

“So, we were talking,” Pidge says, “and we agreed that if you’re not feeling up to it, Keith can do the vocals for most of the songs and hand you the guitar for a while.”

Keith nods, fingers still busy tuning the strings on his guitar.

“My voice is working fine,” Lance explains, “I can still do it.”

“Yeah, but we know it’s not comfortable yet, so just let us know if you need to stop, okay? And maybe take a painkiller.” Hunk reassures, giving a gentle squeeze to Lance’s forearm.

“The show starts in half an hour, we should probably have dinner now,” Shiro points out.

“Oh good, they have those amazing burritos, I’ll be set for the night!” Hunk grins, before calling the waiter.

“Ugh, guess I’ll order some water then,” Lance grumbles, rubbing his cheek, “ice cold.”

“Aw, buddy,” Hunk looks over at him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “you should really eat something before the show…did you even eat lunch?”

The waiter stops at the table and starts taking note of Keith and Pidge’s orders.

“Maybe some scrambled eggs?” Shiro suggests, leaning closer. He then turns to the waiter, “make them soft.”

Lance manages to eat, slowly and carefully. The painkiller starts kicking in, and the pain isn’t as bad, but talking is still uncomfortable, and he really doesn’t want to imagine how singing will turn out. The thought gives him some unusual stage fright, and it’s not a sensation he likes. He puts down his fork, and tries to relax. He’s done this dozens of times. Why is he so anxious now? The stage is usually his happy place, and it really sucks that such a tiny problem is making him feel like this.

“Hey, Lance,” Pidge calls out, tapping his shoulder. “Calm down. Your leg is bouncing like crazy.”

“I – yeah. Sorry Pidge.”

“Oh, I think we have to go now. The stage is set up,” Shiro announces, and they all get up, walking to the back to get ready.

“It’s okay, Lance,” Pidge says, plugging her bass to the amplificator, slinging the strap around her neck. “It’s gonna be fine. You’re an amazing singer. How terrible can you be? And why does it matter if it doesn’t go well? I mean, we’ve done tons of great shows, it’s not a huge deal if this one doesn’t go that great. Just relax and have fun, like you always do. That’s usually what makes our songs great.” She argues. “Besides,” she lowers her voice with a sly smile, “this place doesn’t have amazing acoustics. So even if you mess up some words, the crowd will most likely not notice. You’ll be great.”

That’s some kid of security Lance can lean on. He trusts his bandmates. This is not some new situation. He just needs to relax and have fun. Feeling revigorated, he nods. “Thanks, Pidge. Let’s do this.”

[sassysatsuma]

Skeleton - Midnight

[I wrote this between 1am and 4am, so have pity on me. Also, you know that it is totally inspired by this song. Fingers crossed you like it! :)] 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Midnight on the Wards looks just like any other time really.

There's the distant thrum of speeder engines vibratingthrough the air, producing a soft bassline which is punctuated with the oddhigh pitched wail of a siren. The apartment below her is having some kind of party,techno music rumbling out softly beneath her feet. Somewhere on the street,there's two asari laughing, tearing along the walkway whilst a hapless turianfollows, begging them to slow down. It's a lot like back home on Earth in itsway, except more vibrant and alive somehow. So many different species andcultures all bound together in one big but confined space.

Half the world is sleeping, the other half is partying andfucking living. Lara herself iscaught somewhere in between.

She'd woken up in a cold sweat, her nightshirt clinging toher body in all the wrong places, restrictive and oppressive. Sometimes shesleeps soundly, lost to the world in a perfect, dreamless slumber. Most nightshowever, she dreams of the people she's killed and the ones that have almostkilled her. She remembers the feeling of fire scorching past her armour andinto her skin, the explosion that sent her tumbling to the ground, bioticbarrier weak and barely strong enough to protect her. She remembers the face ofher best friend, pale and lifeless. The one man she'd risked everything to saveand yet still somehow managed to fail.

She remembers everything that N7 made her become andeverything they forced her to lose.

It’s always a losing battle trying to force sleep on nightslike these. Instead, she'd showered and allowed herself a little pampering,padding around her apartment wrapped in a towel for far longer than she'dnormally have time to. Dressed in her favourite sweatpants, faded Academy tshirt and a woollen cardigan that is so big it almost wraps twice around herframe, she’d fixed herself a sizeable mug of tea, sloshing in a good dash ofwhisky for good measure.

Now, she's out on her balcony, looking out over thetwinkling, multicoloured lights of the Wards. There's an artificial breeze thatbrushes across her face, but it’s hardly unpleasant, as close to fresh air as aperson could get living on an oversized space station like the Citadel.

- You awake? -

Her omnitool buzzes into life, disturbing her sense of calmentirely. Lazily, Lara flicks her wrist, scrolling through the virtualinterface to open up the message. She resists the urge to smile when she readshis name, but there's no escaping the way her stomach jumps a little.

A short conversation and a matter of minutes later, SimonRiley is striding as confidently as ever into her apartment.

"Shit, Bones... A fucking penthouse?!" She doubtsthat she's ever heard him sound so impressed as he steps out onto the balconyto join her. As ever he's dressed all in black, although he's gained a blackeye since the last time she'd seen him, a large purple and brown bruisecircling his right eye.

"All Alliance property, I'm afraid." She sighsnonchalant, sipping at her tea and definitely not noticing the way the dark,swirling tattoos littering his arms flex as he shrugs off his jacket and tossesit onto a nearby chair. Shifting her gaze to the cityscape ahead, she sees himmove into her peripheral vision as he leans on the railing beside her, theirarms close, but not touching.

"Maybe I jumped ship too soon after all."

"It comes with a lot of strings." She pauses,reluctant to return to the emotions that had led her here. Instead she takesanother long sip of her tea and turns to face the man to her left, her rightelbow still leaning against the railing. "Bit late for a house call though,isn't it, Riley?"

"Says the woman who let me in? My ship touched down acouple of hours ago. I headed to Chora's, but it was the same old fuckingfaces, so I figured that I'd message the one face that I actually wouldn't mindseeing." He reaches out, his fingers gently tugging at the woollenmaterial covering her tricep. "Didn't exactly expect to waltz in and findyou in your Granny pyjamas though."

"My sexy lingerie is at the dry cleaners."

"Right now, I'd be grateful for any kind oflingerie."

"Sucks to be you then, doesn't it?" Lara fixes himwith a smug smirk of her own. "You asked if you could come see me. I neverpromised to be in a state of undress."

"Bloke's allowed to dream, isn't he?" Rileyteases, pushing off from the railway. "C'mon then. Get a decent drink inmy hand and then you can bore me all you like with what you've been up to thepast three weeks, yeah?"

Lara wasn't sure when Riley had slipped past her defensesand into friendship territory, but pretending it never happened was a pointlessat this point. They were so different, driven by entirely different moralities,or so she had first thought. She'd written him off as a lowlife mercenary,willing to kill whoever necessary for the right price. That had downrightdisgusted her at the start, if she was being honest.

Trouble was, that wasn't who he was. He was a mercenaryalright, raw and brutal and unwilling to lift a finger unless there was atleast something in it for him. But he didn't accept every contract, wasn'twilling to lend his services to slavers just because they paid the highestprice. Hell, Lara had ended up holding his corner in a street fight with agroup of potential "investors" who just couldn't take no for ananswer.

There was more to Riley than he wanted the world to believe andthat was what kept her hooked. She'd see flashes of it once in a while, cracksin his armour that he either didn't notice or hoped she'd be too blind to see.It might just be a single sentence, or a gesture every once in a while, but itwas enough to tell Lara that no matter what she had thought about him at thestart, she might have misjudged Simon Riley after all.

There were other emotions there too and truth be told, Laratried her hardest to push them back most days. At times when she felt as far aspossible from her family and friends, Riley was often a friend who understoodher, a zero judgement drinking partner who seemed to see the pain driving herto drink away her sorrows and know enough not to mention it. He had been anescape of sorts, one that she had indulged in a little too deeply in a momentof drunken vulnerability. They hadn't slept together, far from it in fact, butshe distinctly could remember pressing him up against an alleyway wall outsideChora's Den, her biotics pulsing through her skin as they'd made out like acouple of teenagers. Riley had promised back then that she wouldn't be able tostay away forever, whilst Lara had invested all of her energy into making sureit never happened again.

Until now of course, when she's sitting on her living roomfloor, back pressed against one of the couches. She's filled with the warmth ofthe whisky they've shared, her cardigan long discarded in a clumsy pile besideher. Opposite, Riley sits legs outstretched, his back resting against anarmchair. His face is set in a smile, dark eyes watching her in a way she can'tquite decipher.

 "So... where'd you get the shiner?" Her wordspunctuate the comfortable silence around them and she takes another sip of herdrink, savouring the slow burn at the back of her throat.

"Defending the honour of a school bus full of kids,obviously."

"Bullshit. Schoolkids don't pay enough."

"Ouch." He laughs, soft lines crinkling at thecorner of his eyes. Lara has given up trying to tell herself that he isn'thandsome at this point. "Some bloke just got a lucky shot in, nothing moreto it than that."

"I hope you made him regret it."

"That your way of telling me you care, Bones?" Heraises an eyebrow, that self satisfied smirk that is damn near characteristicof him now pushing across his features.

"Please. I'm just too lazy to find myself anotherdrinking buddy."

"Uh huh."She knows that the arrogant bastard doesn't believe her for a second."Y'know, while I was away, there was this asari bird in the crew I wasrunning with. Had a mean singularity that could crush its way through anyfucking armour. She was fuckin' beautiful, knew it too. Half the crew werepractically creaming themselves whenever she was around."

"And you're telling me this because?"

"Because even with that kind of grade A distractionparading around in front of my face, I barely fucking noticed." He shrugs,placing his whisky glass down on the coffee table with a gentleness that shedidn't know he possessed. "... Even when there's this fuckin'... asari sexgoddess right there... I'm still hung up on this Alliance bird who can't seemto decide if I disgust her or not."

Well shit.

Suddenly the whisky wasn't the only thing making her feelwarm. For a second, Lara pauses, lost in the meaning of what he's trying tosay. She feels displaced, the jolt from gentle teasing and joking to somethinga little more serious making her head spin. She's known for a long while thatRiley found her attractive, but up until now she'd always assumed that he sawher as a conquest, a box to tick, another notch to add to his bed post. She'snever actually considered that he might value her... more than that?

"... It's you, Lara."

"And I'm not looking for a one-night deal."

"If I was looking for that I would have tried my luckwith the sex goddess." A smile,thank God. Lara feels a soft laugh escape her lips, grateful for his joke.She watches him carefully as he sits up, crawling towards her until all thatseparates them are a few inches. He reaches out, with fingers that trace up theside of her neck and come to rest just beneath her jaw. "Look... I'm notexactly proposing marriage, Bones. But, I like you. Give me some credit here,yeah?"

Lara entertains every response imaginable in that moment.She considers making a bad joke, thinks about teasing him with the fact thatshe'd likely never dare trust him with her credits. She toys even with the ideaof pulling away, of giving herself space and time for the rational, overlycautious part of her brain to dream up some more reasons about why she shouldstill hold Riley at arm’s length.

 But it all means nothing when she leans just that little bitcloser and presses her lips against his.

She's done being afraid.

The kiss is slower than what they've shared before, but itstill has the same intensity. Riley kisses her back immediately, the hand onher jaw moving to cup the entire side of her face, whilst his other hand movesto her shoulder. Their mouths fall into a quick rhythm, open mouthed kissesfuelling them onwards as their bodies press closer. Lara's hands wind upunderneath Riley's shirt, her fingers slipping across a back littered withscars whilst he sucks at her bottom lip. She lets out a gentle gasp, feels himsmirk against her skin as he ducks his head lower, kissing and sucking at herneck in way that promises plenty of purple bruises of her own in the morning.

As he pushes her backwards, lifting her t shirt so that hecan press feverish kisses to her abdomen, Lara finds herself trusting him morethan she'd ever imagined possible. Somehow, in this moment, she is allowing himto be utterly in control, an alien feeling that brings with it a deep sense ofcomfort.

It doesn't matter who she thought Simon Riley was. Doesn'tmatter if he's running from a past just as dark as hers. It doesn't matter thathe's a mercenary and she's a soldier, that in her heart she knows that he issupposed to represent everything she's been taught to despise. Because, despiteit all, Lara likes Riley. Trusts him. Cares about him as the friend he hasshown himself to be. The man that deep down, she knows that he is.

She's spent over a decade in service to the Alliance, mouldingher life around its every demand and whim. Living by its morals, shapingherself to represent the ideal that it presented to all of its recruits. Andyet in the end, the Alliance chewed her up and robbed her of everything thathad truly mattered.

There's no way in hell she's letting anyone rob her of this.Least of all herself.

[beatmadness]

soul hears the exact moment maka’s stitches break. 

a hiss of an inhale, followed quickly by a drawn out, breathy fuck. 

‘ maka? ‘ he asks, sitting up in bed and waiting for her response. her answer is always a dead giveaway of if he needs to go to her or not. 

he doesn’t expect her to drift into his doorway. 

‘ some of my stitches broke. ‘ 

‘ shit. ‘ 

‘ yeah. i need help. ‘ 

‘ yeah, of course. ‘ 

maka beats him to the bathroom, but he gently moves her from the doorway with a hand on her good shoulder and the middle of her spine, slipping past to begin gathering all of the materials they’ve kept large supplies of due to everything happening in their lives. 

the wound’s deep enough that it’s begun bleeding through her shirt, one that’s not a favorite, in case something like this happens. sitting on the edge of the tub, maka scrubs her palm over her face, so obviously exhausted that it’s almost pitiful. soul certainly looks concerned when she looks up at him, drying off his hands. 

‘ are you gonna make it weird if my shirt’s off? ‘ 

a grin accompanies the laugh that moves her hair, opening a pack of bandages and sitting next to her on the floor, trying to keep everything as sterile as he possibly can. ‘ considering how many times we’ve resonated, and how long we’ve lived with blair, i don’t think there’s anything secret between us, y’know? ‘ 

‘ fair enough. ‘ turning her head as far as she can without pulling further at her stitches, maka winces when she pushes it too far. ‘ i think i was immune to nudity far before we met blair. ‘ 

‘ yeah? ‘ 

‘ yeah. sports sorta does that. i’ve seen black*star’s ass too many times, mostly because he tripped over his own damn pants. it’s why he wears pants above his ankles, by the way. ‘ 

soul decides he should let maka ramble aimlessly about her childhood more often. the idea of black*star tripping over his own clothes in a sports setting is far more amusing than he thought it would be. ‘ was his uniform too big? ‘ 

‘ of course it was. he kept saying he had to get one bigger so that his “god-like muscles” wouldn’t rip through the arms. ‘ a small huff of laughter, only remembering to not let her head drop into her hands at the last second. ‘ it took him three years to grow into it. he looked like a marshmallow. ‘ 

‘ you guys did sports together? ‘ soul asks as he opens their box of gloves, hoping to keep maka talking as a distraction. 

unfortunately, even exhausted and half-high on the pain meds, maka’s still coherent enough to be aware of everything happening to her. ‘ you’re probably going to cut through my shirt. i can’t lift my arm. putting my arm in the sleeve was probably step one in my stupid choices. ‘ 

‘ i’m also going to have to figure out how to contain your hair long enough to fix your stitches. ‘ 

‘ my hair isn’t a storm, soul. ‘ 

‘ it might as well be! it’s even starting to fall out of your pigtails now. ‘ 

‘ that’s because hair grows all the time. baby hairs aren’t going to be your downfall. ‘ 

a vague grumble makes her smile, finding a hair tie not even six inches from her and throwing it at him. 

‘ hey! i am dealing with needles here! ‘ 

‘ you’re a scythe that’s sharper than any needle ever made. ‘ 

‘ don’t make sense when you’re still high on pain meds. talk about your childhood again. sports, right? ‘ 

‘ yeah. track was my least favorite. i always ended up running faster than anyone on my team, or anyone we went up against. black*star was only able to start keeping up with me when he met tsubaki. it was boring. ‘ 

soul shifts behind her, making use of the hair tie she threw at him, gathering her hair into a bunch on top of her head, and mostly getting all of it to stay before grabbing the scissors off the counter and carefully lifting her sleeve. ‘ let me know if i cut your bandages. keep talking. ‘ 

‘ well, aren’t you demanding. ‘ 

‘ don’t make me laugh when i’m holding scissors next to your ear. ‘ 

‘ why not? ‘ 

‘ not all of us are as good as you. childhood, please. ‘ 

a sigh, trying to dig up something interesting from her childhood that isn’t dark or depressing. soul makes quick work of her shirt, thankfully, but the quiet, startled sound he makes upon seeing her bandage. 

‘ how bad is it? ‘ 

‘ uh-uh. stories. ‘ 

‘ i don’t know, my dad sucked, my mom --- ‘ 

‘ holy shit, maka. ‘ 

‘ what? ‘ she asks, regretting turning her head towards him the second she does. he’d finished cutting her shirt open enough to get it off of her, letting it fall into the tub. ‘ how bad is it? ‘ 

‘ stein obviously didn’t do these, ‘ her slight flinch confirms it, ‘ but that’s not what i’m talking about. ‘ 

‘ again, what? ‘ 

of all the possibilities, maka doesn’t expect him to poke her arm. 

‘ are you --- 500% muscle? what the hell, maka? ‘ 

‘ are you just discovering this? really? ‘ 

‘ it’s different falling asleep on you than seeing it. how did you get so jacked? ‘ 

‘ soul, i’ve been a gymnast since i was three. ‘

‘ what? how did i not know that? ‘ 

‘ you probably do, somewhere in the mush that’s resonance. i don’t know, i just don’t talk about it a lot, i guess. now stop staring my shoulders in shock and stitch me back up, you idiot. ‘ 

‘ right, ‘ he says, seeming to shake himself. ‘ it’s just surprising, you in all of your five foot glory, having more muscle than i’ll probably ever have. ‘ 

‘ do you really think i could do half of the stuff i do if i wasn’t strong? ‘ 

‘ there’s a difference between strong and entirely made of muscle. how long, exactly, have you been training? ‘ 

‘ like i said, gymnastics since i was three. ‘ 

‘ alright, all the stories, then. i’m getting started. ‘ 

another long exhale as maka half-braces herself and half-tries to figure out what the hell to talk about. 

‘ i wanted to do gymnastics when i saw my mom first actually use papa as a scythe. neither of them really wanted to let me, since i was so young, but i screamed every time they tried to gently suggest i play with dolls. ‘ 

soul’s snort interrupts her, ‘ i can’t even imagine you playing with dolls. ‘ 

‘ oh, i hated them, ‘ she agrees, smiling faintly. ‘ yeah, so, i started gymnastics, got a bunch of poles and bars installed in my room and didn’t look back until i was ten, and black*star went into karate. i guess all of his talk of becoming the greatest made me want to be great, too. that’s the beginning of seeing his ass, and has unfortunately happened more times over the years. the last time? you remember, right? ‘ 

‘ i wish i could forget. who thinks it’s a good idea to moon a teacher who throws knives at students? ‘ 

‘ only him. ‘ 

a moment of silence passes as soul finishes cleaning up her wound, looking faintly surprised that she didn’t make a sound through all of the alcohol going into it, but mostly concerned with what they have to deal with. 

‘ hey, remember when we had stein for a week as our health teacher? ‘ 

‘ please do not remind me of that. ‘ 

‘ i still can’t believe he managed to convince anyone to let him bring in two bodies for a bunch of teenagers to dissect. ‘ 

‘ are you forgetting that he didn’t bother cleaning up the bodies, either? making us all clean all the stuff that emptied out and left for who knows how long in a giant plastic bag? i didn’t even care if he’d killed them or not at that point, it was so gross. ‘ 

‘ who passed out? i remember ox did, but didn’t someone else? ‘ 

‘ at least three other kids. i don’t think we know any of them. i’m pretty sure most of them hadn’t been in the field yet, frankly. we were lucky to at least seen and smelled some of the worst before stein pulled that trick. ‘ 

‘ i’m pretty sure that’s when i became completely immune to nudity. ‘ 

‘ what, not blair with your blood all over her chest? ‘ 

‘ okay, first of all, shut up. i do still have a needle next to your heart. ‘ 

‘ yeah? and what’re you gonna do? stab me with it? i’m shaking in fear. ‘ 

‘ you’re not very nice when you’re high. ‘ 

luckily, despite their banter, soul’s still focused enough on the task at hand to have gotten most of the damage taken care of, but still making sure his not-great stitches aren’t going to pop open in the middle of the night. hopefully they can find a sleeping arrangement where she’s not uncomfortable. 

‘ speaking of, do you remember when i said it’s the soul that matters? ‘ 

‘ mm. that seems like forever ago. ‘ 

‘ yeah. i didn’t realize how true it was until a few months ago. we’ve resonated who knows how many times, and now bodies feel... i don’t know how to describe it --- ‘ 

‘ less significant? ‘ 

‘ yeah. doesn’t seem like there’s really anything special about them, now. ‘ 

a small laugh that maka can’t hold back almost makes soul jump out of his skin, with how focused he was. ‘ are you saying resonating with me has ruined your sex drive? ‘ 

‘ i can’t believe you actually just asked me that. oh my god. ‘ 

now she’s laughing harder, a hand over her face as if it’ll contain her amusement. 

‘ i thought you don’t even know what a sex drive is, ‘ he pokes at her with a gloved finger, feeling more comfortable with teasing her back now that she’s stitched back up. 

‘ i don’t! which is why i’m wondering, now, if i infected you or something. ‘ 

‘ asexuality isn’t a cold you can catch! ‘ 

‘ hey! if resonating with you however many times made me end up liking pickles because of how much you like them, i could have one hundred percent killed all of your --- what did black*star call them? “manly urges”? ‘ 

‘ i cannot believe we’re having this conversation. how high are you? ‘ 

‘ not enough. this stings like a bitch. ‘ 

‘ you cuss a lot when you’re high. ‘ 

‘ and you look very blurry when i’m high and tired. ‘ 

‘ okay. probably now’s a good time to get you bandaged up. ‘ 

‘ oh, no, let’s just sit here, while i try not to fall into the tub with only a pair of sweats on. ‘ 

‘ sarcasm is my thing. ‘ 

‘ uh huh. ‘ 

it only takes a few minutes to securely patch up the wound. the hard part is actually helping her stand again, then the small mix up of wait i need a towel so i don’t bleed on anything and okay, hold on don’t run into me i’ll get you a towel which turns into that towel sucks, which becomes then it’ll be fine if you bleed on it, now shut up. 

soul gets the towel spread out on his bed ( it took several minutes, trying to argue with her about whose bed was going to risk getting blood on, which was even more difficult to convince her of when she’s still high. ) and gets on it first, knowing she won’t be able to push herself over far enough to fit him too. 

‘ you’re acting like a mother hen, ‘ maka mumbles when he tries to fix a pillow under her head to help her be more comfortable. 

‘ you need to shut up and sleep. ‘ 

‘ thank you, ‘ she says once they’ve both settled, both of them still unfazed that maka’s still lacking a shirt. 

‘ for what? ‘ 

‘ stitching me back up, idiot. ‘ 

‘ i’m sure you’ll return the favor, eventually. i’m still annoyed that your abs are better than mine. ‘ 

‘ you’ve known this for years. ‘ 

‘ still mad. ‘ 

the last thing maka does before falling back into sleep is laugh, shifting in the slightest to get more comfortable, good shoulder pressed against soul’s chest as they both drift off.