#imagining it really did attract lightning at one point rip

[thelaughingmerman]

My favorite detail of Woodrows design is the little cork on top of the umbrella covering the metal bit. To keep it from attracting lightning. I just noticed it and I think it's so clever. (My other favorite detail is all the leaves stuck in his clothes but this is an umbrella appreciation post).

[shoichee]

Red Rose

Part 3 of the Pun Fest collection!

Akashi x Reader

Word Count: 4,355

Synopsis: You made it a challenge for yourself as the esteemed 1st year class clown to get a reaction out of Akashi. Not just any Akashi, however. Boku-Akashi. Things quickly get too out of hand.

Note: I will be trying to avoid describing the “color” of Akashi’s eyes because they are actually a non-diegetic effect, where the animation/visuals are flashy/emphasized for the audience to see, but in the canon universe, they don’t actually look like that and no one will actually see said animations, and such.

»»—————　☼　—————««

“...and after that, his ass fell flat on the floor right in front of everybody! Can you believe that?”

As your voice chimed throughout the halls, your fellow classmates were stifling their laughter but chortles still escaped from their suppressed lips. Hayama smacked your head in utter embarrassment.

“You’ve already told that story to everyone, c-cut it out already!”

“Kotarooooo,” you pouted. “Not my fault that they kept asking for me to retell it again.” You stuck your tongue at him.

“Tch,” he clicked his tongue, figurative irk marks popping up on his temple. “You needa show some more respect to your senpais!” With that, he started grabbing your head to mess with your hair.

“H-Hey! It’s not my fault that you tried to impress a passerby 3rd year girl by doing a failed dribbling trickshot,” you vehemently protested, trying to rip his strong grip off your poor hairline.

Your classmates were either watching with complete entertainment or with concern for your safety as both you and the Uncrowned King were duking it out and sidestepping each other. 

… That is, until they grew increasingly uncomfortable after spotting a particular redhead walking in their direction. 

You and Hayama were too invested in the playfight to notice the unforeseen deathly silence and chilled air that accompanied it.

“Kotarō.”

With a simple call from his airy tone that still somehow glaciated the sunniest of atmospheres, he halted both of you (with his hand still fisted in your hair and you still pulling his cheek) to turn your attention to the person to whom the voice belonged.

Akashi Seijuro.

“C-captain!” Hayama separated from you at an inhumane speed that rivaled his lightning dribbling. You stiffened yourself straight like a plank.

You’ve heard the rumors. From whispering gossipers to personal testimony from your blonde best friend, you knew his presence meant anything but pleasant. 

“Did you forget that we had practice today?”

Holy shit. You glanced in the corner of your eye to see Hayama paled before he gulped. Was he gonna be okay?

You dared not move a muscle from where you stood, hoping not to attract the basketball captain’s attention, but you knew you stuck out like a sore thumb after seeing how all the students huddled closer to the walls while you were stuck in the middle along with Hayama and Akashi.

“I knew that you forgot, so I came by for your sake so we can all start practice together as an absolute team.”

Ah… there was his infamous favorite word.

Akashi flickered his catlike gaze to you. He didn’t miss the way your body was paralyzed by fear, but he slightly narrowed his pupils at the fact that you almost looked curious about him.

“We’re going.” He gracefully pivoted around to walk the opposite direction in where he came from.

“I-I’ll see you later, dummy,” he whispered, giving you a playful wink before he strode up to Akashi’s pace, but you knew from his tense back that he was scared shitless of whatever inevitable punishment drill he was going to be tortured by.

You recovered from your stupor and tried to ease Hayama with a joke. “Don’t act all tough, Kota! I know you’re gonna akashit your pants!—” You snorted trying to finish your one-liner but finding your own joke funny. “P-pf-pfft, don’t slip on the floor again, okay?”

And just like that, with your words, the students around you eased up and let out soft chuckles.

Hayama turned back around even as he continued walking. “Oi! Watch it, kid!” He made the motions of pointing his eyes to you, but you knew that he was grateful for you in trying to unravel his bundle of nerves.

Akashi, still walking, merely glanced back at your figure, unamused at your “joke” but nonetheless almost impressed that you actually had some type of leadership charisma to be able to uplift a crowd’s mood in an instant.

. . .

Everyone released a huge sigh of collective relief once the basketball-player duo was out of sight.

“Are you insane, (l/n)?” Another good friend of yours went up to your side. “You had the balls to literally say such a thing in front of him? Of all people?”

“Well, it’s not like, I’d get sent to the faculty office because of him…” you muttered. On second thought, you probably would. This was Akashi Seijuro you were talking about.

Everyone started clamoring as they all started seeing you in a much higher regard; some of them even looked at you with starry eyes and others swore to be your new admirers. The rest, though, thought you had just sealed your fate by getting under Akashi’s radar.

“You’ll be missed and honored,” a classmate said, giving a solid pat to your right shoulder. “What type of flowers would you like for your funeral?”

“Hmmm,” you hummed, pointing to your chin and staring at the grand ceiling. You turned to them. “Roses as red as Akashi’s hair and the blood of his victims.”

“(l/n), you did not—”

“Oh my god.”

“Is it too late to become religious just to pray for your wellbeing?”

You just summoned chaos in the hallway for the next hour.

---------

The next morning was just another indication of a mild, warm day in Kyoto as you walked past Rakuzan’s school gates. Or at least, you thought the morning would be fine. Even with your thick uniform blazer, you swore that you felt cold chills running down your spine every now and then when you were strolling your normal route to your class.

There’s the cold chills again. 

You stopped and looked around your shoulders and behind your back. No one shady was near; they were all too busy chatting with their friends or changing their shoes in their lockers to care much for your presence. Those who noticed you nearby had already given you a friendly greeting.

You hesitantly walked again, being your usual carefree self but now being hyper aware in tracking the students around you. Your eyes widened.

There.

Had you blinked in that moment, you would have surely missed it, but a flash of red flitted around a corner of a hallway. You sighed and groaned inwardly.

Your classmates were right: you were going to die by the hands of a certain redhead.

This was the price you had to pay for not passing up the perfect opportunity for an iconic line.

---------

“Say,” you said turning to your friend once you entered your classroom. “Has Akashi ever shown a side other than being a calm freak?”

“I don’t know if you ever wanna see anything different than that,” she replied, looking up from her homework.

“Imagine him laughing, though. That’d be news of the century.”

“Dear god, I can’t imagine him laughing other than the kind of scheming cackle you’d get from the TV show villains.” You bursted into a fit of snorts while other students, who were secretly eavesdropping out of curiosity after hearing Akashi’s name, snickered.

Another student wedged himself into your conversation. “No one’s ever seen him show any side of him though. Honestly, he’s like a demon.”

“He’s a 1st year student just like the rest of us,” you chided. “Come on, he’s human too. He wasn’t born to be a calculating machine.”

Everyone in the vicinity gave you incredulous looks (for valid reasons, to be fair).

“Hmph!” You crossed your arms. “I’ll prove it to you guys! He’s not as stone-cold as you think!”

“(y-y/n)-san…” Your friend from earlier tugged onto your sleeve. “You’re really fun to hang around with and all, but…”

“Yeah, um… We know you’re competitive and don’t like to back down, but I think you shouldn’t tread into this type of… dangerous territory.”

“Did you already forget what happened with Hayama-senpai yesterday?”

Pretty soon, a large chorus of agreements and mumbles spread throughout your class. Irked, you pouted as you continued to cross your arms.

“I’m gonna make him laugh, and I’ll do it.”

“Uh..”

“Um…”

No one had the heart to disagree with you when you looked like you sparked a fiery aura around yourself as you raised your fists, ready to take it as a challenge for yourself. 

Your classmate sighed. Welp, there’s a reason why you got along with Hayama so well in the first place.

You were both so overly enthusiastic and reckless.

---------

You’ve been thrumming your fingers on your desk throughout your classes, staring blankly as you start stringing up ideas on how to accomplish your “challenge.”

Succeeding in making Akashi laugh is like Hayama agreeing to let the dentist extract his snaggletooth. You’re basically asking for the impossible.

Maybe you should’ve settled for a more realistic goal, but then again, this entire ordeal was an entire miracle on its own.

Ah ha. You stopped your finger taps, hitting a fist to your palm in realization. Maybe you just need to get a reaction out of him, and the rest will eventually fall into place.

At the same time, your friend looked at you in worry; you were making odd hand gestures and mumbling to yourself as you went too deep within your thoughts to regard your surroundings.

Oh dear.

---------

Once lunch began, you immediately left class after incoherent chants of “seeyah” and “gotta go” to go look for Hayama’s corpse and pay your respects for the poor 2nd year after yesterday.

You bought sweet bread from the student store for his offering before you went to look for him.

At the sight of the completely lethargic Hayama, you ran up to him in mock grief.

“Ah, spirit-sama!” you cried out, bowing with your hands clasped together (the bread secured in between). “Please at least tell me that Kota died peacefully—” He interrupted you with a chop to the head.

“Ow! Please don’t curse me, spirit! I didn’t treat him that poorly when he was alive…” You winced, rubbing your head in an attempt to soothe the impact. 

“I’m not dead, idiot!” he retorted, but his banter lacked bite, and both of you knew why.

You sighed before you flashed him a genuine worried expression. “Are you okay, though?” You promptly handed him the bread, and he immediately did a 180, hooting and having starry eyes at the package.

“Of course I am,” he said, munching on the bread. “Not! He made me do so many extra drills and exercises that I seriously thought I was gonna die!”

“Okay, before you totally freak out, but please don’t freak out,” you started. You told him about your plan about Akashi.

“You’re gonna WHAT—”

“SHHHhhhHHH—” You clamped over his mouth despite him still chewing. “What did I just say?”

“Reo-nee! Ei-chan!” he called out while you still attempted to close his yapper. “Save meeeee!”

The said Uncrowned Kings nearby eyed you two before looking at each other and shrugged; they strolled up to you.

“Oh? (y/n)-chan?” Reo tucked his strands behind his ear. “Has he been causing a ruckus?”

“I have not—”

“Actually, since you’re here anyways, I wanna ask you all something,” you said. “What do you know about Akashi personally?”

“Huh?” was all you heard from the Uncrowned Kings.

“Well…” Reo hummed. “I might know a thing or two about Sei-chan…”

“I’ll just go get lunch,” Nebuya called out.

---------

Day 1 of the Challenge.

Thanks to Reo, you knew most of Akashi’s schedules so you can find the perfect opportunities to “safely” encounter him.

You waited behind a corner of the hall that you knew Akashi would walk through to get to the student council room during lunch. Peeking out, you looked for scarlet hair, ignoring the judgmental (and curious) glances thrown your way here and there. 

The moment you saw that everyone instantly collectively vanished, you knew Akashi was extremely nearby. You took a huge breath, expanding your chest to the point of exaggeration, and turned around the corner to finally meet the infamous emperor. 

You casually strolled, putting up an impeccable act that you were naturally there rather than staking out the same spot for 20 minutes. 

There he is. 

You purposely got closer, hoping the closeness between you two would catch his attention. He walked without a change in expression, however, impassively eyeing you before turning his gaze back to the front. That’s when you saw your opportunity.

You almost bumped into him, but you jumped away at the last second while putting your hands up in surrender.

“W-whoa! Wahh, sorry, Akashi-san!” you quickly apologized in a bow. “Luckily, I had my emperor’s eye to foresee the future and prevented any mishap on my part.” You peeked up from your position to see him standing with his back to you, head turned to the side. 

A few beats of silence passed before he said, “Your head is too high.”

“Huh?” You were thrown off. That was the last thing you expected him to say. “Wouldn’t my head not be high because I’m bowing?”

He was still assessing you from the corner of his eye, and you willed yourself to return his stare.

“Stay out of my way.”

“Then you should take your own advice,” you huffed, getting up from your bow. “Yesterday morning, I knew you were watching me at some point before you disappeared.” 

But he just turned his head back to the front and continued his intended course for the student council room.

Day 1 Results: he scared the daylights out of you instead of you trying to unnerve him.

---------

Day 2 of the Challenge.

What the hell did he mean by “your head is too high?” You still couldn’t decipher his cryptic line. Maybe he just said it to everyone, but that would be really corny of him; he wasn’t that type of person.

Did he think you were too much of a peasant to even talk to him?

You gritted your teeth. You weren’t gonna give up any time soon.

When everyone was dismissed after school, Hayama let you accompany him to Rakuzan’s spacious gym, under the belief that you were going to go home right after.

As soon as you were both in front of the bulky front doors, you marched right in, catching the blonde off guard so much at the fact that you waltzed in there (full knowing Akashi was in there). He couldn’t yank you out in time even with his lightning reflexes, and you skipped around, being careful to stay near the gym walls to not disrupt anyone. You plopped yourself on one of the further benches where you knew none of the players would ever sit, and as soon as you knew Akashi was in earshot (who was ignoring your existence), you smirked.

“Hey Kota!”

“Huh?” He looked up from rummaging through his duffel bag.

“I’ve heard shogi is being played a lot more by people our age for once, but don’t you think it’s such a dread to play such a dull hobby?”

“Yeah, righ—oh.” He swallowed back his answer in seeing Akashi behind you a few meters away, being as still as a statue.

You gleefully looked behind you, hoping for any entertaining response.

Without moving, he slinked his pupils to you before grabbing a water bottle and leaving.

“C-c-can you just drop this entire thing already?” Hayama runs to your side to give your shoulders a firm shake. “I swear to god, you’re not gonna live at this point!”

“You’re right,” you said. “Just for today, I’ll have to retreat before I’ll die.”

“Not just today!” He shook you harder. “I mean stop this for good!”

“Kota, I already signed a death certificate the moment I bumped into him yesterday. Might as well go all out.”

“Oh god, you started this yesterday?”

“Well, I gotta go! See you tomorrow!”

“... More like see you never.”

Day 2 Results: his reaction was inconclusive, but it was more of a failure than success.

---------

Day 3 of the Challenge.

You were pondering about how to annoy Akashi next, both excited and terrified about where this was going to end up.

“(l/n).”

“Y-yes?” You stood straight up from your seat the moment your homeroom teacher called you.

“During lunch, please make your way to the student council room. You’re needed.”

What in the world was going on? 

You fidgeted in your seat for the next few hours, shooting anxious glances at the clock every so often. All your classmates’ words of encouragement went through one ear and out the other.

“You’ll be fine!”

“I’m sure a teacher just wants you to help out with some workload…”

“We’re rooting for you!”

As the lunch bell rang, you braced yourself before you promptly made your way to the room that reeked of that particular chilled atmosphere that repelled most students away.

You prodded the door open, slipped in, and softly clicked the door shut before turning around to face the poker-faced terror sitting on his desk, watching your every move.

“Right on time.”

“You called me here?”

Akashi paid no heed to your outburst and continued. “I’ll admit. I’m quite interested in you. You have the innate sense of magnetism that draws others in.”

D-did he just compliment you?

“I would like to put your leadership to the test. You’re now vice.”

“What? You can’t just make a decision like that!”

“I ordered him to quit. There shouldn’t be a problem.”

What the hell?

What the hell, what the hell, what the hell—

Akashi looked at you like he was peering into the depths of your conscience and simply gave a civil smile.

“I hope you will contribute greatly to this school.”

Day 3 Result: a miserable failure.

---------

Day 4 of the Challenge.

You’re stressed, and it’s all Akashi’s fault.

Which made you even more determined to ruffle his feathers and rile him up.

When news broke out of your new “promotion” as vice president, your classmates celebrated for you and your already high popularity skyrocketed. Your teachers didn’t want to hear you talking about quitting when you “haven’t tried anything yet to know if this job was for you.”

The Rakuzan’s basketball starters (minus Mayazumi) were initially ecstatic for you as well… until you told them about Akashi’s string-pullings. 

“I’ll make sure Sei-chan won’t do anything, okay (y/n)-chan?”

“Thanks a bunch, Reo-kun… or should I say… Reokunma (Rilakkuma bear)?” You snapped your fingers at him. He just stared at you and patted your head, totally disregarding the fact that you made a pun.

“Just pack in the muscles and you’ll have nothing to worry about!” Nebuya flexed his biceps before getting a scolding from Reo.

“Shortie! Call me whenever you need help!” Hayama dropped his elbow on top of your shoulder to emphasize his point.

“Argh, Kotarō! You’re not that much taller than me at all!” You rolled your eyes. “If anyone, why don’t you say that to Akashi?”

“Say what.”

Oh fuck.

“S-Sei-chan!...” Reo walked over to Akashi. “If you’re here for us, I thought practice didn’t start until much later!”

“I am here for (y/n).” 

His irises contracted, highlighting his feline pupils. “I am depending on you as vice president to make this school an absolute powerhouse.” 

He still somehow made that sound extremely condescending, like a king encouraging a mere peasant. 

You were scared out of your wits, but you weren’t going to crumble so easily. Not until Akashi did first.

“Buh-bye, everyone! Good luck in practice later!”

. . . 

The walk back to the office was painfully silent. You decided to break it.

“I’m not taking back what I said, prez, you’re a shortie.”

He paused in his steps. “You run your mouth while knowing no bounds.”

“You’re just a spoilsport, y’know.”

“My orders are absolute.”

“You know, you’re scary as shit, but the whole ‘absolute’ line kinda grows old when I hear it every time I talk to you.”

Palpable silence blanketed between the two of you once again at your words.

This guy can’t even crack no matter what you do.

You stepped into the office and followed him to his desk. He walked to grab a pen from a drawer before he approached you.

He stepped forward, thrusted the sleek, black fountain pen to your face, and jerked back the writing instrument at the last millisecond. 

You froze, forgetting to breathe as you felt the pen nib harshly prodding the tip of your nose.

“Do not make me repeat myself. My orders are absolute.”

He then gave you some paperwork and assignments to complete like nothing ever transpired. 

Day 4 Results: you thought being relentless in your attacks would prove beneficial, but you’re starting to regret everything.

---------

Day 5 of the Challenge.

Maybe you needed to avoid direct confrontation, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t get a reaction from him in other ways.

One small perk of being vice was the fact that you no longer needed to tail around Akashi in order to bump into him “coincidentally,” but you’re not sure if this sole advantage could outweigh the disadvantages, particularly one that might result in your early death.

You’re frankly not as scared as you should be, even though you definitely were at those times you were with Akashi. If anything, it pissed you off that he’s always able to get you to jump out of your skin.

He’s just a 1st year. He’s just a 1st year.

You went to the student council room early to tape on a note to his desk, so there wouldn’t be a chance that it would “fall off his desk” and that “he didn’t see it.”

Roses are red,

I suppose you’re “absolute.”

You’ll still be knocked dead,

And there’ll be no dispute.

You snickered. It was too funny to pass up.

Before you left, you took the time to survey around and get a solid look at the office interiors for the first time (since Akashi’s presence made it impossible for anyone to not pay attention to him).

It was ridiculously tidy, all the wooden furniture polished to the point where their mahogany varnishes shined. Books were meticulously ordered by alphabetical order and genres, and they looked like they were all dusted at every free chance. The rugs showcased simple circles, but the minimalism of them added to the office’s air of crisp cleanliness. The gray curtains gently framed the wide window behind Akashi’s desk. But what really caught your eye was a board of shogi and its pieces tucked away in a corner on a high shelf.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try knocking on Death’s door again.

. . . 

Akashi’s shoe clicked on the floor as he opened the door. His steps continued to echo throughout the small room as he walked to his desk to start his work, that is, until he saw your note.

“Oh?” A grin snaked its way onto his face by the time he read the last line.

He severely underestimated you. You unexpectedly had tenacity.

No one has ever defied him repeatedly so openly before.

His expression put the notorious Cheshire cat to shame, his ulterior smile occupying half his face as his eyes widened in excitement equivalent to a predator.

Feeling pumped for the first time in a while, he decided to expend his energy on shogi. He carefully brought down the board and placed it onto his desk, going through the familiar motions of unpacking and setting up a game, before he froze.

There were various pencil doodles on each shogi piece. All of them were variants of :/ and :). 

You were taking a jab at his personality as well as his mannerisms.

He barked an amused harsh laugh. 

. . . 

Day 5 Results: truth be told, you were too scared to see him face to face right after your double stunts; since you knew his schedules, you only came into the student council office when you knew he wasn’t inside.

---------

Day 6 of the Challenge.

Continuing to avoid him would already confirm to Akashi that you were actually shaken up by the high possibility of him retaliating, and you definitely weren’t about to give him the satisfaction. 

You went to class as always, and by break, you feigned innocence as you strolled into the council room, seeing Akashi leaning against the table.

“Good morning, Akashi.”

He nodded in acknowledgment before he gave a full, predatory smile, his pupils focused on you. 

“To continue to fuel diligent work, it’s beneficial to recognize one’s efforts by giving gifts.”

What? Was he not going to bring up what you did yesterday?

He pulled out a single red rose and gracefully tilted it for you to take. You warily plucked it out of his hand.

In a different context, it would’ve been sweet or even romantic, but you knew Akashi ticked a different tune.

“I do hope that you will continue to stay and become even more efficient with your work.”

You gazed at the rose at your hand, confused, as Akashi started walking back out, heading for the door.

You gasped.

“... Did you overhear our conversations the other day in the hallway?”

He chuckled. 

“I know the future, because I am absolute.”

“Bastard.” You clicked your tongue, turning to Akashi. “You knew the entire time?” 

“Shogi is easily applied to every aspect of life. Move the correct pieces and you will always win.”

You turned back around to avoid letting Akashi see you in an embarrassed state. He played you like an absolute fiddle. 

You scowled, and you were about to cross your arms in defiance until the sunlight from the window cascaded on something where your “note” used to be.

“Akashi, what’s that on your desk?” You tentatively walked up to the table to see a stainless glass vase with a single dark burgundy dahlia resting daintily against the inner rim.

His hand was on the doorknob before he turned back to face you.

“Dahliang,” his tone of voice light, almost mockingly saccharine. “Do be careful from now on.”

He left.

Day 6 Results: he completely destroyed you at your own game and sealed the final nail to your coffin with a pun.

---------

End Note: Black dahlias (which are actually dark burgundy in color) symbolize signs of warning, betrayal, and other negative emotions.

[tmntgirlie]

TMNT Universe!Reader x Turtles 3

You tried to mentally prepare yourself for the questioning you knew would ensue as soon as you left the safety of your room. Keyword is ‘tried’.

It seemed that they had been preparing lists of questions, and immediately shot them your way as soon as you exited.

“Whoa, whoa-” you exclaimed, your eyes wide. You could barely distinguish one voice from another, though it was obvious that Mikey was the one speaking the loudest. And had the most unusual questions.

How do you like your pizza? Really? That’s the question you go with?

You silently wondered what questions didn’t make the cut to be first in his mind.

“One at a time, guys, no need to crowd her. Sheesh.” It was Leonardo who stepped forward, holding an arm in front of his brothers as if to keep them from going any closer to you. “I’ll start. You’re not from around here. Where are you from?”

Oh, that was a loaded question. More loaded than a farmer’s gun in the south.

You know what, never mind.

“Do you want the long answer or the short answer? Neither of them include how I got here, still figuring that out,” you said, blinking a few times.

Were they all this absolutely ripped last night?

You swore you were not attracted to these turtles. That would be weird.

Right?

“Whichever one is more exciting, please!” Michelangelo almost sounded like he sang his request, putting his three-fingered hands together in a prayer-like manner.

The brother let you get settled in what you only could assume was their living room before you began the tale. It reminded you of the setting in the movie where they were situated most of the time. It wasn’t too complicated a layout, but you instinctively looked around for the Hashi room. That scene always cracked you up.

“I’m not sure how I got here,” you started, staring into space. There was no way you could just keep looking at them. You’d start to feel things. “Where I’m from, you guys are fictional.”

You remembered them referencing some popular Sci-Fi and Marvel from the first movie.

“Like how you know about X-Men and the Avengers. You guys were just made up.”

“We aren’t real?” Mikey gasped. “Like, legends?”

“Kind of?” You shrugged. “You definitely have a lot of fans. I think that it all started with comics about you guys, then movies and cartoons came out. I’m not really sure. I mostly know about you from these movies- the same guy who directed the Transformers movies directed your movie, actually- and from a few other sources.”

“How much do you know about us?” You could feel Raphael staring into your very soul.

“That depends?” Your voice raised as if asking a question. “There were a lot of different continuities. I mostly know the most recent movies and some profiles from a more recent animated series. I could be wrong, but I think there were… Four? Four animated series that were all similar, but targeted different audiences.”

You were absolutely not about to admit that all you really knew about those animated series were from gifs on Tumblr with no context. It was just better that way.

It took no time at all for each brother to individually attack you with questions about each of their characters. You answered them as best you could, but honestly, some of your answers you pulled out your ass. There were just so many different versions of them.

If this ever ended (and you prayed it didn’t), you promised to yourself to indulge in each continuity.

Once each and every brother became satisfied with your answers, you finally felt yourself relax. They took this surprisingly well. You couldn’t imagine someone suddenly popping into your life and telling you that they’ve read about you in books and were a fan of you.

Your life was way too boring for that. You were barely your own main character.

“We know that the technology for teleportation exists,” Donatello said. “It would only make sense that if that exists, it’s also possible for a device that can cross through dimensions exists as well.”

As he rambled on, you found yourself lost amid the scientific jargon he spewed. You clearly knew words like ‘the’ and ‘and’, but the words enveloping them? Not so much. You were never the best student in science class.

Although, you admitted to yourself, this was far beyond that. And to think he had no technical training.

“Does that make sense?”

“Hm?” You blinked, looking back up at the purple-banded turtle.

“I’m thinking it could have been an accident. I’m not sure if it had anything to do with the Purple Dragons, but you somehow got caught in them after transporting here,” he said thoughtfully. “You weren’t involved in any technological experimentation, correct?”

You blinked again. “Not that I was aware of. I have an uncle who is a rocket scientist, but I haven’t seen him in forever.”

Donatello sighed. “Until we can find out exactly what brought you here, there’s really nothing we can do. There’s not much to go off of. You weren’t involved in any experiments, you say you were sitting at your home- what were you doing at home? Did you get struck by lightning?”

“I was indoors,” you stated. “Watching a movie by myself. Alone.”

That did sound pitiful.

He made a face. “Right. As I said, until we figure this out- you’re stuck here, Y/N.”

You sat quietly on the couch, looking down at your feet. This wasn’t exactly the best-case scenario, but you were convinced this wasn't the worst-case scenario either. You could have been dropped into the live-action Avatar The Last Airbender movie. That would be the absolute worst.

“So what now? Do I go up top and find a job, get my own place, start a life here? Do I stay down here hoping to help you guys figure out what got me here? What?”

Your first option didn’t sound like something you wanted. You were suddenly given this opportunity to not have anything expected of you. You could live in secret, or as secret as the turtles allowed you to be. You didn’t want to feel like a freeloader, but also figured that one extra mouth to feed wouldn’t be a huge stretch for them. You knew how they ate already.

Man, you would not keep your figure on their diet.

It was Leonardo that spoke up. “No rash decisions yet. We’ll take every day as it comes. You can get a job or something if you want, but I’m almost nervous that who or whatever brought you here might be looking for you. They might be angry that whatever happened possibly happened wrong.”

Good point, good point.

“So I’ll stay down here until further notice,” you concluded, leaning back into the couch. You certainly didn’t expect it to go as far back as it did, and you ended up laying down with only your legs not on the actual couch. This was very smooth of you. “Huh.”

You could barely see Leonardo tilt his head in your direction. “You alright there?”

“This is a lot to take in.”

“We’ve seen some pretty strange things, but this might top it,” Raphael said. You couldn’t see his face, but you could almost hear the smirk. “At least we got a fangirl.”

You sat up slowly, rattling your brain for a witty remark. When none came to mind, you settled on sticking your tongue out. You might not be a teenager anymore, but there’s always that inner-child inside of you.

Being with these four, and Splinter, was something you had dreamed about years ago when you first saw the 2014 movie. Now that you had calmed down (for the most part) and ‘grown-up’, it was bringing back the memories of dreaming how something just like this would go. Who you would possibly end up with. How you would get along with the others.

You weren’t sure if you were excited or terrified that those dreams actually come to fruition. 

[hex6rcist]

I would like to second your sentiment about the confession bit for Kenpachi's fluff alphabet needing it's own fic~ it's so cute 💞💞💞 Consider it requested in whatever capacity you'd like to write it! The thought of Ukitake and Shunsui helping him parse out his feelings is so delightful!

Wow this was super fun to write but it got pretty long so I threw in a read more. I hope you like it! I used fem pronouns because I noticed that's your preference. I hope that's okay.

Kenpachi Love Confession

She was feisty that one. It was exactly why she’d caught his eye. It was rare to find firecrackers like y/n in the 2nd division. Sui-Feng expected her inferiors to be the pinnacle of grace and restraint. That’s what brought her around to the 11th so frequently. For a short amount of time Kenpachi had considered trying to snake her away from the 2nd and bring her under his command. However he scrapped the idea. He wanted something more than a captain/subordinate dynamic. It would feel a bit creepy to him his he got her to join his division and then tried to pursue her. So he let himself be happy with her just hanging around for training sessions.

Watching y/n take down his men was a thrill to him. But it couldn’t compare to the feeling of when they went toe to toe. She fought like she was dancing, lithe and graceful, no doubt due to her training under Sui-Feng. It was in staggering opposition to his own brash fighting style. She’d cavort out of the way of his blade with a gleeful laugh that lit his skin on fire. She always threw him off his game just a little. Kenpachi was pretty sure she’d landed more hits on him than any of his men ever had. Every little graze she left on his body he’d admire later. Firm, large fingers would trace over the feint scar as he laid in bed. Sometimes he’d find his eyes drifting shut and in a brief moment he’d imagine it was y/n’s fingers insteaed. Kenpachi’s eyes snapped open and he stared up at the ceiling. He was hit pretty hard and he knew it. The feared Kenpachi Zaraki fawning over a beautiful girl. It was almost laughable. He had to do something about this.

He spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, trying to figure out how the hell he was going to pull this off. He’s not a big romantic gestures kind of guy. But would y/n even want that? Would she even want him? Sure he was muscular and tough but was he... Attractive? Kenpachi had never even considered the thought. His life in the Rukongai was harsh, leaving was no time for courting or romance. as embarrassing as it was he was kind of inexperienced in this matter. That’s when he finally got an idea. Though he’d really have to swallow his pride on this one. This was how he found himself sitting on Shunsui Kyoraku’s veranda next to Jushiro Ukitake.

The two men sipped on their tea while Kenpachi looked down at his with mild distaste. He still took small samples from his cup as to not be rude. He had learned some manners after all and he was here for help. Jushrio’s smile was genuine and soft, he was pleasantly surprised by Kenpachi’s request for advice. Shunsui however had a big shit eating grin. “So y/n huh?” He chuckled softly. “She is something.” Jushiro odded in agreement, “A lovely young lady.” “Very lovely.” Shunsui swooned playfully. Kenpachi was beginning to worry he might of made a mistake, but before he can back out Jushiro fixed him with a serious look. “We’re more than happy to help you out in this matter and we’re glad you came to us for advice.” “You know I think This is a conversation that calls for sake.” Shunsui stood up and moved to retrieve a bottle. Finally one of them was speaking his language. Kepachi set his tea aside. “So Kenpachi, did you have any ideas on how to approach y/n with your feelings?” The large man pinched the bridge of his nose. _‘Don’t be rude. They’re trying to help.’ _“Can’t say I do. I’m not even sure how she’d react. I’m not the most,” he cleared his throat “eligible guy around.” Shunsui returned with 2 cups of sake and some more tea for Jushiro. “Nonsense, don’t be hard on yourself. Y/n Isn’t the average lady who’d be intimidated by you. She’s tough and already comfortable around you. I don’t think you have to worry about intimidating her.” He handed a cup to Kenpachi and he gladly accepted it, drinking deeply. “I guess that’s true...” Jushiro held up a finger, signaling that he’d thought of an idea. “The Sakura Festival is coming up next week, perhaps you can invite y/n to come with you. It’s a relaxed event so you won’t feel uncomfortable and y/n won’t think anything of you asking her to go because everyone attends.” Shunsui hummed mulling over his friend’s suggestion. “That might be a little too, uh, what’s the word...” “Flowery.” Kenpachi interjected. The 1st Division captain nodded in agreement. “Yeah, flowery.” A small silence fell amongst the men as they pondered other options. “Well what do you and y/n usually do in the time you spent together?” Shunsui inquired. “Fight. Drink. Talk.” The men nodded. “Talk about what exactly?” Jushiro chimed in. “Stuff...” The elder captains sighed in unison. He wasn’t making this easy was he? Kenpachi took another long drink to gather up the nerve to elaborate. He really wasn’t too good with this whole sharing his feelings thing. But if he wanted to pursue a relationship he had to get used to it. “We swap stories... Some about her time in academy or my time in Rukongai**.” **They were finally getting somewhere. “Well then maybe that’s what you should do then.” The Sotaicho smiled at Kenpachi. “It might not be the most romantic thing in the world but it would be the most genuine.” He held up his cup of sake. “A nice drink and when  you’re sharing stories just tell her how you feel.” Jushiro nodded in agreement a smile blooming on his face as well. It sounded simple enough. Kenpachi downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp. “Just tell her huh? Yeah. I can do that.”

The next day when Kenpachi woke up late into the afternoon and his head was pounding. He’d stayed at Shusui’s well into the night going drink for drink with him. He ran a large hand down his face before dressing and emerging from his quarters. He could already hear a ruckus going on in the direction of the training grounds. Walking out onto the engawa he saw y/n was already here. She was covers in a thin sheen of sweat, her shihakusho clung to her body and her jewel like eyes shoe with glee as her opponent fell. She gestured for him to be removed from her sight before her predatory gaze latched onto the 11th Division’s groggy captain. With the crook of her finger he was summoned before her to fight. The hairs on his neck were already standing on end. He really was a slave to her beck and call and he had a suspicion that she maybe knew.

Dusk had come before either of them knew it. They often lost track of time while locked in combat. Too caught up in the thrill of it all. By now the cool wind had dried the sweat on their skin leaving them cold and uncomfortable. Most of the division gave up on getting their training in and went about business as usual. Y/n and Kenpachi’s Zanpakuto were locked together in a stalemate. Their eyes burned into each other. Finally he used the last of his strength to push and y/n fell. She laughed giddily and stared up at the darkened sky, trying to catch her breath. The captain entered her line of sight and offered a hand to pull her to her feet. She gladly accepted and bowed to the winner who in turn bowed back. “You know you’re better than most of my men right?” She let out a loud laugh. “I’ve noticed.”

The two had settled on the engawa side by side. Kenpachi had brought out a bottle of sake to share. Y/n was leaning back on her banged up elbows, one knee bent and the other hanging lazily off the edge of the platform. Even caked in dirt and blood she was beautiful. Scratch that it was when she was the most beautiful. He handed her off a choko full of alcohol and she drank from it greedily. His eyes lingered on her neck, watching as she swallowed. He licked his lips and tore his gaze away. The night was moving far faster then Kenpachi would have liked. His Division was slowly falling quiet and soon it felt like they were the only two still up in the whole Seireitei. At some point she’d gotten cold and inched closer to his side. He could feel her warmth through his clothing and he was sure she could feel his as well. They talked, and laughed, and drank like they would any other night. Only Kenpachi knew this one would be different.  

“Y/n, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.” Clear eyes turned to look up at the captain but he couldn’t meet her gaze. “What have we been doing?.” He shook his head, eyes fixed in the sky above them. “About something specific.”  It was time to rip the bandaid off. He knew the worst she could say was no, but it was going to sting more than the slice of her blade. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you.” He peeked over to see her cheeks had flushed a light pink. He figured that had to be a good sign. Right? They finally locked eyes. “And what do you think of me?” She leaned in involuntarily. Here goes nothing. “That I like you... A lot.” He wanted to punch himself. Kenpachi felt like a child with a schoolyard crush saying it like that. He really should have- His train of thought was derailed by a quiet chuckle. Y/n got up on her knees and leaned into him. “I like you too.” A little smirk crossed her lips. She was going to say more but her words were cut off. A large hand had found the back of her head and pulled y/n into a deep kiss that made her head spin. Her hands clutched onto the front of his haori and his hands slowly found their way down to her hips, pulling the smaller girl into his lap. His kiss was full of passion and longing that she’d never known before. It made her let out a tiny moan. The sound shot a bolt of lightning though his whole body. When they parted they were both gasping for air. She licked her lips and smirked softly. “A lot.”  

[1zashreena1]

No Shame

Pairing: M/F, nebulously OC/Priest!Diego Jimenez [Starz Power] AU IMAGINE

Rating: LITERAL FILTH

Warnings: Power imbalance, astronomical blasphemy, Diego's pornographic mouth, old timey woman related bullshit, set some time before 1900 in what will be present day Mexico

A/N:  I am an atheist so please keep that in mind as I unintentionally mangle Christianity in general and Catholicism in particular. This was prompted by an ask, you know who you are >.>.

Tag a friend! @girlpornparadise @nicke0115 @fleurfatale89 @mandoplease @heresathreebee @chensingmachinee​

Photo credit to @girlpornparadise​

I just woke up.

I have lost my last shred of sanity.

I must reevaluate all of my life choices.

I need guidance, discipline, a strong hand.

I am lost.

Perhaps mother was right. I will at least give her suggestion a chance. Father never forced us to obey her last wishes, but even if I never become a believer there must be some lesson I can learn from the experience. The only christian church in this new locale is catholic, that alone will be a new experience. I will walk there either early this morning or in the evening after the heat has dissipated. Mexico is a strange and wondrous place, but this heat is not conducive to proper corsets. Or really any underthings, for that matter.

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

The walk to the church is long. You go slowly in the evening heat, unwilling to become any more disgusting with perspiration than you already are. You had forgone petticoats, crinoline, or even bloomers, but found the bounce of your chest too much and so had opted for the cropped corset. You are beginning to understand the local women's choice of garments.

The church is stone, backed up to the cliffside, dark and cool on the inside. It is also echoingly empty. You wander about, touching pews, taking in murals, and dipping the tip of a finger into what you assume must be holy water. 

"Are you lost, little girl?"

With a small shriek, you whip around to locate the owner of that rasping voice. It is a priest, It is a damn shame, is what it is. He is tall, broad, strikingly broad, eyes and hair dark, and he has just enough of an accent that you know English is not his native tongue. You gawk at the nearly perfect features; a long, straight nose, high cheekbones, thick brows, a cutting jawline, and sinful lips.

"I- I am sorry. There was no one about so I was simply looking. I did not mean to intrude." You stutter out. It should be a crime of nature to take a man like that to the celibacy of the church.

"Of course you are not intruding. But, if I may, you do seem… lost. And alone." His words are solicitous but his eyes glitter in the low light. Absolutely massive hands emerge from the sleeves of the cassock and you have to remind yourself that it is rude to stare. He stalks over to you, there is no other word for such a predatory gait, and you stumble back a step. He is not as tall as his hulking presence seemed, but he still towers over your frame.

"I am. Lost, that is. I did come here alone, but I live with my father. We only recently moved here." Why are you telling him so much? Is it the collar? Or his hungry expression? 

No one has ever looked at you thus, as though you were some delicacy to be savored. It confuses you greatly and you feel quite flustered. It evokes feelings that were stirred the few times you snuck out at night, slinking through the streets of Philadelphia to peer into a foreign world of nightlife and debauchery. You had seen the opium dens, the women walking the streets, people enjoying themselves and each other in ways you so desperately wanted for yourself. Mother always did curse me as a hedonist. 

"Would you like to confess? Have you been sinful?" He holds out one wide hand in gesture to the confessional.

"Oh, I am quite certain that would not help." You laugh bitterly. "I am not Catholic, in fact, I am not even a Christian. I imagine I must be brimming to overflow with your 'sins'." The sarcasm of your tone is unmistakable. 

He looks you up and down leisurely, you feel very hot very suddenly. "Perhaps not yet." You blink, but he continues, "Come. Sit with me and tell me why you are here then, little girl." Sitting in a pew, he motions to the small gap between himself and the arm. It does not seem like nearly enough space for your wide hips. That large hand pats his own leg gently and you find yourself stepping forward as though hypnotized. 

You were right, it is not enough space, you are practically in his lap. He is hot and solid against you, his body has no give and you can't help but compare it to the only other time you felt anything remotely so hard. The wedding night had not been nearly so attractive. Your chest is heaving above the corset as you fail to subdue yourself.

A long arm rests along the back of the pew, you can feel solid muscle under your shoulders. Unsure of what to do with your hands, you fold them in your lap but this only results in a more spectacular display of cleavage. You steel yourself and turn to look at him…

The priest is staring at your breasts. 

I thought they could not… am I wrong?

His eyes snap up to your own and you feel faint. They are the deepest, darkest brown you have ever seen. He is stunning and you are enthralled.

"I have never been to a church service, my father despises the institution, but my mother passed away a few years back, and one of her last wishes was for me to explore the church." You confess in a rush only to wince at the choice of wording. Your eyes drop to his chest with your mortification, it is not a wise decision on your part.

The sheer breadth of him is boggling. You can see muscle flexing under the black garment and all you can think about is how it must feel. Your palms itch to touch and you fidget minutely until something makes contact with your skin. Glancing down, you see that he has deposited his rosary in your shaking hands. Slowly, but not hesitantly, he closes your fingers around the smooth wood by engulfing both of your smaller hands in one of his larger extremities. 

His skin is like fire and you feel the same crackling energy that fills the air prior to a strike of lightning. Trapped by his presence, you gulp.

"Tell me." He breathes into your hair, "You know nothing of the faith? None of the rituals or traditions? No rules or obligations? Do you even know to which sins you might confess?" It seems that it should be saddening to him, but his purring tone is almost gleeful.

"C-correct. I do not." You stutter. Your eyes remain focused on his single hand overlapping both of yours in your lap. He is so close to your center that it makes you ache. Are there levels of sin? Am I committing a more serious offense right now? A higher sin, if you will? Perhaps you really are hysterical. 

"Oh, little girl, what I could teach you of sin would certainly fill you to overflowing."

You shudder violently and break out into goosebumps. The feel of your hardened nipples trapped inside the corset is maddening. Your former husband had never incited such a severe reaction, then again, he did not look like this man. 

"Married!" You blurt out in a panic. He freezes but does not back away. "Was. I was married. He, he returned me to my parents when I failed to produce an heir. Like a faulty broodmare. Is, is that a sin?" The babbling string of bitter words reveals far more fear and humiliation than you had planned. "It was an annulment. He was Protestant. I was deemed frigid." 

You gawk in shock as that gargantuan hand lifts to trace a single finger along the neckline of the corset peeking out of your blouse. Your pebbled nipples are visible through both soft layers of fabric and he brushes over them fleetingly. Your entire body jerks and you gasp. 

"To be barren is not a sin, however the Church does not recognize an annulment after the marriage has been consummated. In the view of Catholicism you are still married. Have you known any other men than your husband? Biblically, of course." He rumbles into your ear as his hand flattens over your collarbone. The span of it encompasses you from shoulder to shoulder. You feel dwarfed and vaguely threatened. 

"No… But I have wanted. To, to know. Another." Your breathing fails as the hand slides down your front to press your own fists into your crotch firmly.

"Now that is a sin. You are lustful, are you not?" His hopeful tone rips a whine from you. You somewhat enjoyed relations with your husband, it was vaguely pleasant sometimes despite your general overall distaste for the man, but this feels much more similar to when you touch yourself.

"I," you squirm, consumed with a heretofore unknown feeling of guilt, but he presses down harder on your lap and your legs spasm as they try to spread of their own volition. 

"Go on," He orders quietly. "Your lust led you astray, did it not?" The arm around your shoulders has constricted, his other hand snakes inward to stroke over your throat and it's hammering pulse point. You whimper as your belly liquefies and you want … something.

"I, I t-touched." Oh, this is beyond mortifying. Women are not supposed to want, much less touch, and certainly not enjoy as you have. You know what is respectfully acceptable in polite society and you know that the things you have done to yourself fall very neatly and precisely outside of those parameters. 

"You touched another man?" You shake your head tightly. 

"You touched a woman?" Again, a negative response, and again, a strangely gleeful question.

"You touched yourself." He purrs triumphantly, lips brushing the shell of your ear. The feel of his beard lowers your inhibitions. You had always wondered how a beard would feel on your chin, your neck, between your thighs…

"I cannot judge the severity of the infraction without witnessing the full extent of your wrongdoing." What does that mean? "You must show me, little girl." 

Your jaw drops and you turn to him in shock. He is so close that your noses touch and all you can think about are his lips framed so perfectly in that closely cropped graying beard. The hand on your neck creeps downward to flatten your left breast.

"Like this?" He questions softly, brown eyes blazing. Despite his best attempt, he cannot completely engulf your breast in his hand. Rather, he squeezes gently and massages. You are struck speechless, the touches are instigating a new and terrifying response lower in your body. Your breasts have been handled before, but you have never felt anything like this. 

"Not, um, not especially. I do not, I did not--" you choke off as he locates your nipple and pinches softly. Your hips buck of their own will and deep inside you can feel tension winding tighter. This has never happened before and you aren't entirely sure that you like it. "I never really touched, there. It, it's l-lower." You did not mean to say that.

He releases your hands only to slip between them and your body. Belatedly, you remember that you wore nothing under your skirt. You try to squeeze your legs together, it does not stop his progression. 

"Tell me to stop. Tell me you do not want to do this, and I will add lying to your list of transgressions." His voice is dark, dangerous. You relax into his hold and his fingers press the fabric deep between your thighs. The wetness soaks through, you have never been in such a state. "It seems that in spite of your reluctance, you are quite ready to show me."

"Here?!?" You yelp. The cry echoes along the high ceilings and he chuckles at your outrage. 

"Perhaps you would prefer the confessional?" He grins at you with a dazzling array of teeth. It is more threat than anything else.

"I thought, ohh, I thought priests could not. Not. You know." Flapping your hand about seems to convey your message sufficiently. 

"My vows are no concern of yours, little girl." He growls into your ear and you squeak helplessly under the assault.

You push to your feet with a hand on his thigh, but it gives you pause. He is solid under your touch, nothing but the bulk of muscle. What does a priest do to attain this level of, of, well, muscle? You glance down and your legs wobble. His interest is prominent. You have never seen anything that large.

"Do not worry about that. Show me how you worry about yourself. It is your soul at risk here, after all."  He ushers you to the little booth with his looming presence and a large hand on your lower back. You suppose he must either know what to do about himself or you are wrong about all that the priestly vows entail. How would I know?

The confessional is just big enough to fit you both. You spin around only to find yourself face to chest with him. He smells purely and indefinably male. Your hands come up to steady yourself on his chest and you give in to the temptation to feel. His rippling muscles make your legs give out and you collapse gracelessly onto the bench.

He kneels to the floor in one fluid motion. Those very large hands gather up your skirt but he catches your eye.

"Now you will show me how bad you have been and I will mete out your punishment."

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

Am I truly going to debase myself in this manner? With a priest? In a confessional? I am very certain that this is not what Mother meant. You always were too contrary.

Your hands shake as you reach out to slap the skirt down tight to your knees. 

"Wait!" You plead urgently. No man has ever made you pant like this. His huge hands grip your knees through the skirt, he looks up to drown you in those bottomless eyes. "I… how do I, what should I call you? I do not even know your name."

"My name is Diego, but priests are referred to as 'Father', little girl." He smiles widely, it transforms his face into something softer, younger and freer. He does not ask for your name and you do not offer it.

"Now," he murmurs, "Show me how you sin."

A full body shudder shakes your form and you take a deep breath. Your hands release the skirt and you close your eyes in embarrassment. Painfully slowly, he rucks the skirt up to your lap, dragging his hot hands up your thighs as he progresses. 

"My, my. You are very bad, are you not? Nothing under your skirt?" He tsks, but his voice is warm with pleasure. His hot breath washes over your center obscenely, "And so very pretty."

Slapping a hand over your mouth does not muffle your whimper. He keeps one hand on your skirt, but reaches up to wrap the other around your forearm. Pulling your hand to yourself, he stares at you meaningfully. 

With great trepidation, you bring your fingers to your pulsing point of pleasure. The priest moans quietly, his dark eyes fixed on your most forbidden place. You jolt with the initial contact, then press down firmly. It feels just as good as always, but the addition of a ravenous man watching makes you clench tight far sooner than normal.

"Does it feel good?" He rasps quietly. You nod deliriously. 

"Do you enjoy being observed?" His lips curl up at the corners with deviousness.

"I- apparently? Never. I have never, ohh." Your voice is unrecognizable. 

"Your husband never looked upon you thus?" He arches a brow. You shake your head in horror. 

"N-no! He never touched or, or, oh, put his mouth on me." Your admission is a fearful whisper. "I had heard talk, filthy gossip, of men doing such things but..." You trail off with wide eyes as he licks those sinful lips very deliberately. 

"Yes, terrible rumors. That would be rather shameful." Those long fingers creep ever higher and your eyes must be ridiculously large. The pressure in your belly is crushing, you can feel everything tightening by the moment. 

"But." You gulp. His eyes gleam with anticipation. "I have. Thought. About it. Being touched so… pervertedly. Is, is that a sin?" Your breathy voice is tremulous with wary hope.

"No, little girl." The dark rumble so close to your most private parts vibrates decadently, the sensation is so strong that your eyes roll back momentarily. "No worse than the sins you are already committing."

"Oh. W-well, in that case, perhaps I should have asked for it specifically." You tease. The look in his eyes is not teasing. You lick your lips and nearly beg, "Will you t-touch me? Please, Father."

His pupils grow wide as you look on in wonder. His hands spasm, his expression crumples as if in pain, and he groans lowly, "I will touch you, bonita. I will touch you until you are sorry for your sins and beg me to stop."

Shaking like a leaf, you hold your breath in anticipation as his hands climb ever higher until they hover above your folds. "Please." You breathe.

One finger strokes along the edge of your lower lips, gliding in more wetness than you knew you could produce. It dips between to part you open, a sob escapes your gritted teeth, then he touches your entrance gently. You watch, bespelled, as he tests for give. I want it, you realize. Then, he finds the correct angle, and sinks the entirety of his long digit inside you.

"Ohhhh!" You wail as your body collapses in on itself, ecstatic paroxysms shaking you apart in waves. Your fingers press down harshly to draw it out.

"Yes, little girl. Let me see. Very good." He coos quietly. Your mind stalls in confusion, but then he moves. 

"Oh, oh, what. I do not understand. Please, I. I. What. What are you doing?" You whisper brokenly. 

"In order to fully understand the sin, you must fully explore it. Do you want me to teach you?" The question is dripping with wickedness. His expression is frightful, covetous and foreboding.

You nod, then shake your head as the finger retreats, only to nod again as two fingers return.

"It has been some time, has it not? Since a man filled you?" Your discomfiture grows, but it feels too good to stop him. 

"Y-yes. He was, your fingers are the s-same size." The confession is wrung out of you. Your mind flashes back to the sight of his bulging interest and you cannot help but wonder just how big he is. 

"That would explain why you are so tight. Do not fret, I can offer you a solution to that as well." Teeth gleam in the low light and you shiver. He shuffles closer on his knees and your brow furrows in concern. He smiles warmly, "Go on, continue."

"I do not. Know. Are there other, more things?" You feel foolish, but he clearly knows more than you do about this. 

"So much more, little girl. Does a sinful little creature such as yourself like this? Are you enjoying the fingers of a holy man in your most filthy of places?" Said fingers brush deep, he touches places that have never been reached before. His wide shoulders keep your legs spread far to give him room. 

"Y-yes? I think? It. It feels, strange. I feel full, but yet I want more. I--" you choke as he thrusts his fingers into you, pulls out, and then sinks deep again. Oh. Ohhhh. This feels better than anything you have experienced yet and tears roll down your cheeks. You beg shamelessly, "Please, oh please. Do not. Do not stop."

The deep bark of laughter is humiliating but it feels too wonderful for you to care. You are tightening again, bearing down around him steadily. He commands you confidently, "Again, little girl. Show me again."

Your inner muscles flutter wildly and then compress decisively. It is different than your self-induced sensations, but just as good. Your head falls back against the wall as your hips roll offensively. You are making noises that sound demonic in their own right, high pitched screeches and sobbing wails.

"You are a quick study. Have a third." Diego growls and you feel stronger pressure as he pushes three fingers into you. It stretches you uncomfortably for a moment and your hands fly down to his wrist.

"Wait." You gasp and squirm. He adjusts his hand to a new angle and the pain subsides to only aching fullness. "What. What are you doing?"

Your jaw hangs open limply as you watch him leaning ever closer to your privates. You remember your own admission clearly He never touched me or put his mouth on me.

The priest continues downward until you can only see the top of his head, covered in thick, lustrous hair. His breath ghosts over the little ball of nerves before you feel something completely foreign. Hot, soft, wet pressure where your fingers had been earlier. His tongue. You realize with a shock. He is licking me!

The first pass is too new, the second is long and slow so you have time to process this terrifyingly delicious sensation. Your back bows, your head cracks backwards against the wall, and you scream. You want more, you want to run, you sink down onto him and jerk away spastically. He is relentless, you are not entirely sure what he is doing besides using his tongue on you, and you do not possess the mental wherewithal to find out. Your hands flit about violently until one lands in his hair.

He groans against the center of your pleasure.

You shriek and hang on tightly as your body seizes up with another climax. Your vision wobbles and you gasp for air. 

As things come back into focus he stands over you, untying the sash to part his robes. Your eyes immediately drop to the bulge of his manhood being freed by hands slick with your juices. You recoil in fear at the sight.

He is positively massive. Longer than you thought possible but even thicker around. His own hand barely circles the girth. The tip is dripping steadily and you can smell the sharp tang of his desire.

He reaches forward in a flash of movement and yanks open your blouse and corset deftly. Your chest bounces free and you shrink into the wall at your back 

"Now," he eyes you intently, "You are prepared to receive your punishment."

"Will you hurt me?" Your tiny voice gives him pause as he registers your fear. His eyes soften and he reaches out to brush your wild hair back gently. He cups your jaw and leans close to your trembling body.

"What is a punishment that does not hurt just a little?"

Before you can answer his lips are on your own. He fits his mouth to yours, the beard burns wonderfully, and when you gasp he slips his tongue inside to attack your own. He takes and takes, leaving no inch untouched, just as you assume he will do below. His broad body arches over you and he steps between your legs. One hand cups a breast and he uses it to pin your shoulders, the other drops lower to position his length at your entrance. You shake violently, the memory of your wedding night clouds you with apprehension.

The pressure is immense, you sob into his mouth as he pushes into you. It pinches sharply at first when the head breaches, but then eases and the majority of him sinks deeply into you. He pulls back from your mouth to look at your tear stained face. 

"Breathe. Relax. You can take this, can you not? You are a good little girl, yes?" The soft rumble brings you back to the present. You are stretched to the limit, but he is not hurting you. Diego stays still long enough for you to soften around him, your tense muscles ease and you understand that it feels good. Very, very, very good. "There. How perfectly you take this. You were made for this, to writhe on my cock. So sinfully tight."

You open your eyes to find him huddled close, both big hands petting over your hair, down your cheeks to cup your breasts. His face is tense, he is holding himself back for you to adjust. It is more thoughtful than your previous proceedings. You reach up to touch his beard in wonder, it is wet with your arousal. Hands wandering, you stroke down his torso until reaching where you are joined together. He hisses above you as you feel the base of him, still unable to fit all of it inside you. Hands climbing, you slide up under his shirt to encounter a wall of muscle under soft skin. The feel of him makes you whine with want.

"Oh, you are indeed ready to atone." He sighs happily. Leaning down, he buries his face in your bosom and you jump with the textures of smooth skin, soft hair, and ticklingly abrasive beard. Wet heat envelopes a nipple and your chin crashes into your collarbone as you try to see what he is doing. He laves your nipple with the flat of his tongue, long and decadent passes that have you gasping and quivering. 

"A loving doe, a graceful deer—

 may her breasts satisfy you always,

 may you ever be intoxicated with her love."

He murmurs what you assume must be a proverb directly into your chest as he uses you wickedly.

Your hands settle on his broad shoulders, he is warm and solid all around you, you are soft and pliant beneath him. Narrow hips hitch and you cry out at the aborted thrust. He is so deep inside you that he must be able to touch your heart. Your heat clenches around his length and you both moan.

But then, Oh good lord, he moves. The long drag of his retreat pulls unknown sensitivity from you and the newfound discovery spills from your lips.

"Oh. Ohhhhh. This is. This is what. I, I never knew-" You babble mindlessly until he snaps back into you. Here you shriek. Words fail you entirely as he takes you more thoroughly and enthusiastically than you have ever been had before.

"Yes, little girl. Take the punishment you deserve, that you require. Take it all." He growls harshly, his hips smack your buttocks and the sound of it is obscenely blasphemous in this building. Your fingers dig into him as the tension builds. You are familiar with this, it feels much the same as it does when you bring yourself to fits, but it continues to mount. Previous experiences had ended at this point so you assumed achieving the same outcome was simply not possible by this method of stimulation. It feels like you might be wrong.

"I can tell that this pleases you. Wicked little thing, greedy on my cock. You want more, yes?" His dark words should make you feel shame, but he sounds inordinately pleased with your proclivities. He bites your neck and you bawl as your body contracts on him blissfully. His elated groan sears you with pride, "Yessss, good girl."

He rips himself away, drawing a soft protest from you at the loss of his body. His eyes are wild, chest heaving as he announces, "Now you may repent, little girl. On your knees."

You thrill at his command. This you have seen just once in your naughty wanderings, a woman on her knees and a man using her mouth as he would her nethers. 

You drop to the floor, hands landing on his bare thighs, and gawk at his impressive manhood on full display. He is perfectly formed, long and curved just slightly at the end, thicker around than you could have ever imagined. His cock, you rather enjoy the illicit word, shines with your wetness. 

"Open wide and do not bite. You would not want to err further than you already have, yes?" He instructs softly, but his hand on your head is like steel as he urges you forward. You nod nervously and lick your lips, then glance up at him.

His eyes are black, huge and starving, his mouth hangs open as he breathes harshly, and he actually whines at the sight of your tongue. A curl of power glows inside you. Leaning forward, you touch the leaking tip in a fleeting kiss while watching him closely. His expression melts in agony, "Yesss, take it. Ohh, perfect little girl."

The praise emboldens you enough to open wide and lick him as he did you. It is wet, salty and slipperier than his tongue, firm and hot. You taste again and his shaking hands pull you forward. Your jaw relaxes instinctively and he bumps the back of your throat. You cough, but his ragged moan is too sumptuous, you need more. Keeping him held firmly, you press your tongue to the underside to trap him against the roof of your mouth. With chagrin, you feel yourself drooling, but when you go to slurp it back into your mouth it creates suction around his length. He howls above you.

"Ahhh, yes. Yesyesyes. Sí, perfecto. Taste me. Take my cock deep." You pull again and both of his massive hands squeeze your shoulders tightly. What if it is like the other actions? The thrusting? You bob your head experimentally, taking ever more of his length with each round. 

"Yes, yes, little girl. That is it. Take. T-take a deep breath!" His instructions are simple enough but you do not understand why until his hands pull your nose deep into the thick thatch of hair at his base. Heat pours into your throat and you understand rather well exceedingly quickly. There is nowhere for his release to go but down, you swallow frantically to avoid choking. It is not enough, the salty liquid cascades down your chin as he pulls back and you struggle to breathe. He collapses back to the door of the confessional, panting harshly.

You cough for a minute, clearing your throat. Your knees ache, the aftertaste is strong, but the absolutely devout way he peers down at you would be worth every sin.

"Am I forgiven, Father?" You murmur demurely.

He hauls you to your feet so quickly that it makes your head spin. His lips are on yours, his tongue delving deep inside as he licks the taste of himself from you. Breaking the kiss, he sets you back on your feet and tweaks your nipples one last time.

"Go home. Go home and get on your knees and remember what you have done, little girl." With that, he opens the door of the confessional and dumps you out into the church proper. The large space is blessedly empty. You relace your corset hurriedly and dart for the door. Stepping outside into the humid night, you turn around for one last look. He is standing there, just outside the booth, clothing mostly righted, staring after you with voracious eyes. As the door closes he dares to wink with no shame.

‐----------------

You run home in the dark, terrified to be caught in your stained skirt and ripped blouse. The winding road that climbs the cliffside to your casita is traversed before you know it and you hesitate outside your own door. The small lamp of the sitting area is visible in the open window, your father is still awake. Creeping in, you hug the edge of the hall and dive into the kitchen. 

"Ah, you're back! How was the church, honey?" Your father calls. 

"Oh. Stuffy. Pretentious. The usual." You holler casually, already mounting the stairs to the loft where you sleep.

"Well, your mother would be happy you tried. Good night!" He responds with amusement. 

"Yes, of course. Good night." Your response is vague and distracted as you round the corner at the top of the stairs and close the door. Finally alone, you collapse to your knees on your pallet and laughingly cry yourself to sleep.

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

When you wake the next morning it is already light out. You can hear the crashing waves far below your open window and you sit up slowly. Your languorous stretch is cut short by the ache between your legs. My jaw hurts, too.

Voices outside catch your attention. Slinking to the window, you peer over the sill to receive a surprise. Your father is standing outside under a palm tree speaking to another man. You would know those broad shoulders anywhere.

The priest! Your panic is drowned by confusion, He is wearing regular attire, no cassock. Why is he here? Why is he dressed so? What is he saying to your father? You are rooted to the spot as he mounts his horse, a very fine horse, you note, and then glances up. He spots you failing to hide and has the absolute gall to wink before riding away. No shame.

Tearing down the stairs, you meet your father in the kitchen. Barking cheerfully, you greet him with a chirpy, “Good morning!”

"Good morning, honey. You did not tell me that you met the Don of this town at the church last night. He has been overseeing the repairs to the roof. It seems he donated all the supplies and materials. I have heard the locals say that he expects hard work but is fair." Your father is preoccupied with the process of making coffee, luckily, so he does not see your gawping expression. 

"He, he is what?" You ask. What happened last night?

"The Don. He said the new priest should arrive sometime next week. But, there is more." You sink into a chair, hands shaking. Your father continues obliviously, "He invited us to dinner at his hacienda tonight. Apparently, you made quite an impression." 

Hands land heavily on your shoulders as your father stands behind you. "I am sorry, honey. I had to disclose your past. He seemed undeterred, Don Diego said you seemed a bit of a, a, handful, but he likes that. Maybe this is your second chance. I worry what will happen to you after I've gone. An unmarried woman alone in this world is often preyed upon."

He has no idea how correct he is. The absolute nerve, how dare he, this is despicable, the, the, cad!

Your father leans down to kiss your head, "He asked my permission to court you. I told him he needed to ask you. I will not decide your life for you. Follow your heart this time, honey."

You liked it. You liked him. You want him again. You will wear the scantiest dress you own to dinner. Repay him in kind with damning torture. 

"Oh yes, I remember the exact wording he used to describe you: a hellcat." Your father chuckles fondly.

No shame.

[merakiaes]

Warmed Up - Arthur Shelby

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x reader

Requested: Yes.

Prompts: #2, #3 and #4 from the common tropes-list. 

Warnings/notes: A bit of implied smut, maybe, nothing too major. Hope this was what you wanted and that you like it!

Wordcount: 3753

Summary: You get caught up in a storm with Arthur on your way home from London and have to seek shelter in an abandoned cabin in the woods, where you are forced to share body heat to keep warm. 

Driving all the way to London with Arthur and only Arthur wasn’t something you’d put in the top ten on your ‘things I want to do’-list. Not that you had a list like that to begin with, but you probably made your point clear.

It wasn’t that you disliked him, quite the opposite, really. You liked him really much. Probably too much. The problem was that he was so God damn socially awkward.

With everyone else, he could laugh and joke around like an absolute madman without any problem whatsoever. It was that side of him that had made you attracted to him in the first place.

But with you, he was the exact opposite. He was quiet, reserved and quiet as a mouse, so to speak. It was infuriating.

You talked a lot, especially when in the company of someone you genuinely enjoyed being with. So it was a given that you would have preferred it if the person on the other side of the conversation actually talked back.

But Arthur never did. He just listened, glanced at you when he thought you weren’t looking, and fidgeted whenever you would visibly catch him in the middle of the act.

You weren’t an idiot. In fact, the reason you had been offered a position as a Peaky Blinder in the first place was because of your abnormally high intelligence and ability to talk yourself into and out of every imaginable situation.

You knew he fancied you, just like you did him. The first three months or so, you had just waited for him to finally gather the courage to spark up a conversation with you alone and act on the attraction everyone – yourself included - could see he had for you.

But that moment never came, so you had to take matters into your own hands. 

You had been trying to get him alone for another three months now, but Tommy kept you busy, and him as well, always sending you off in different directions.

And when you on the very rare occasion actually did get the chance to talk to him alone, he took any excuse he could find to get away from you.

He avoided you as if you had the worst case of the clap in history, which after three months of waiting around for him, and another three months of desperately trying to get his attention, caused your feeling of attraction to be pushed back and locked away in a chest at the back of your mind.

Now, every time you saw his face or heard his name, you would instantly get bitter and turn your head the other way.

Mature, right? Well, in your defense, the women in your family had always had a certain immature stubbornness to them. If anyone should be blamed, it should be the women before you for passing it down another generation.

The car ride to London had been so quiet it was actually physically painful, and the air hanging over the two of you was thick enough to cut with a dull butter knife.

But the entire situation only got worse when you made the mistake of driving home despite being warned about an upcoming storm, in which you were now caught with a broken-down car.

The rain smattered violently on the metal surface of the car, and just as violently on your body. 

You were soaked from head to toe and chilled all the way to your bone. You were hugging your arms close to your chest in a desperate attempt to preserve the little body heat you still had left, but you could sadly admit that it was doing nothing of the sort.

You sighed for what seemed to be the hundredth time in the past ten minutes, bouncing your foot lightly to get your blood running.

“Come on, Arthur.” You called out over the loud rain, squinting your eyes in order to see him cleared through the water that had built up on your eyelashes. “We should go look for some help, you obviously can’t fix it by yourself.”

But Arthur didn’t move and inch, barely even reacting where he was bent into the hood of the car, pulling and pushing at things he probably had no idea what to do with.

“I’ve got it.” He insisted in a snappy voice, without a doubt annoyed from your nagging. But you didn’t care.

You rolled your eyes and uncrossed your arms, taking three long strides towards where he was standing and roughly grabbed at the fabric of his soaked coat, pulling him up from the car to his full height.

He glared down at you, but before he even got the chance to yell anything back at you, you reached up and smacked the hood closed, missing his fingers by barely a millimeter.

“You obviously haven’t got it and that’s fine. There’s no shame in needing help. Now come on, I had a lot of things on my agenda today and getting hit by lighting was not one of them.”

Just as the final word passed your lips, a deafening clap of thunder hit right above you, causing both of you to jump slightly. It was getting significantly closer.

“Where do you suppose we’re gonna get any help then, ay? We’re in the middle of fookin’ nowhere!”  He yelled back, ripping his arm out of your grasp in all his furious glory.

“Well, anywhere is better than here!” You kept arguing, throwing your arms out in exasperation. “If we don’t find help, we can in the very least try to find shelter, somewhere to take cover until the storm’s blown over.”

“There’s cover in the car.” He threw his arm out towards the car for extra emphasis. “I’ve told you to get back in there for the past ten minutes but you just have to be so fookin’ stubborn all the time.”

He turned around to open the hood again, propping it open and getting back to not knowing what he was doing in the slightest.

You yelled out in frustration. “The car is cold, Arthur! There’s surely some place nearby where we could settle down and start a fire or something.”

Without waiting for an answer you re-did the procedure you had done only a minute before, grabbing the back of his coat this time and janking him away from the car so that you could slam the hood shut.

He whipped around to face you with nothing but anger behind his eyes, but before he got the chance to utter a single word, your fist hit his chest in a harsh and actually rather painful blow.

“Could you just stop arguing with me on every single thing and get your head out of your arse?!” You yelled while you delivered another punch to his chest. “I’m fucking freezing and if I stay out in the rain any longer, I’m going to get fucking hypothermia and have to amputate my limbs!”

You went to punch him a third time, but this time around he caught your wrist before you could hit him, and then your second wrist as well when you raised it to try a second time.

You glared up at him, but found that the anger behind his eyes was now gone as if it had never been there in the first place. Instead, he was just staring down at you with a look you couldn’t quite figure out the meaning of in your angry state.

“Alright.” He agreed, his voice now much quieter than it had been before. Once he was sure you weren’t going to hit him again, he carefully let your wrists go. “We’ll go look for help, or shelter. Just, calm yourself.”

His voice was rough, but his eyes were soft, calming you down easier than you would’ve like to admit.

You just gave him a curt and determined nod, straightened out the sleeves of your coat and turned on your heel, starting to walk towards an unknown destination.

He followed behind you silently, coming up to walk at your side. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him stuffing one of his hands to his pocket, while he used the other one to pull his wet hair out of his face, slicking it back over the middle of his head.

But it only stayed in place for a second before it fell right back into his face, and even in the midst of your fuming anger, you had to stop yourself from reaching over and fixing it. 

The longing to touch him wasn’t an unusual occurrence for you, but in the circumstances you were currently in, it just drew a scoff from you, and either he just ignored it, or the rain was too loud for him to hear it.

You walked around in the rain for what seemed like an eternity, not spotting as much as a shed to bunker down in.

It was getting dark and the storm was still raging on without any intent of stopping. You were just about to give up and admit defeat, when you finally caught a glimpse of something red in the middle of the trees in the distance.

You squinted your eyes to make sure you weren’t just fooling yourself, that it wasn’t just a trick of your mind caused by that uncomfortable lightning between light and dark. But as you walked closer, it became apparent that you were truly seeing what you thought you were seeing.

Your eyes widened, relief flooding your body at the sweet sight of the small cabin and your hand shot out to tug on Arthur’s sleeve out of instinct.

“Arthur!” You yelled over the sound of the rain, tugging more aggressively at his coat.

He turned to look at you, and you pointed towards the cabin, yelling out: “There!”

Once Arthur had spotted the small, red house, too, the two of you wasted no time in sprinting off, having to shield your faces as the wind started pulling even harder at your clothes and hair.

Luckily, you made it to your goal in just another minute, and hurried inside, Arthur actually having to force the front door shut as the wind was fighting back so hard.

When he finally got it shut after a few seconds of struggles, thanks to the shitty, loose lock and handle you allowed yourselves to take a look around.

Arthur went into a room to the right of the front door, while you ventured into the one on the opposite side. 

The big table in the middle of the room and the pieces of broken chairs littering the floors suggested that this had once been a kitchen, but judging by the state of the place, no one had lived here for years.

The floorboards were soft and rotten, a thin layer of moss covering a big part of it. The walls were yellow and damaged by water, and you could tell just by looking at it that the house was most definitely mold infested, and that you should get out of there as soon as you possibly could to avoid getting sick.

But then again, you would without a doubt get sick if you left, too. Now that you thought about it, feeling the way your clothes stuck uncomfortably to your skin and hung heavily off of your shaking body, you were probably already on your way there, assuming Arthur was in the same state as you.

You got lost in your thoughts as you were looking around, completely missing that Arthur had entered the room and called your name. It wasn’t until he reached out and touched your shoulder that you came back to reality, or rather jumped back to reality.

Out of pure instinct, you reached your own hand up to grab the one on your shoulder, twisting it and turning around with your other hand fisted in the air, ready to strike.

Luckily, Arthur was well used to your jumpy antics after six months of knowing you and easily caught your fist in the air. 

You quickly registered his face and hurried to let go of his hand, noting by the way that he was clenching his jaw that the position you had twisted it into was less than pleasant.

Rather than apologizing however, you simply glared. “Don’t sneak up on me like that, if I had a gun I could’ve killed you.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t.” He threw back tiredly. “So quit your whinging and come on. We have to get you out of your clothes and get you warm. Started a fire in the living room and found some old blankets that still felt alright enough to use.”

The second he spoke those words, the smell of burning wood reached your nostrils and you could feel your entire body tingling with excitement at the thought of getting warm. 

Taking another look at the man in front of you, you noticed that he was now only wearing his undershirt and pants, with his suspenders hanging limply at his sides, probably having discarded the rest of his clothes by the fire to dry.

Too tired and cold to fight back, you just let him lead you to the room you had watched him disappear into when you first got inside, pleased to see that he had, in fact, managed to start a fire that was now burning high in the long-ago abandoned fireplace in the middle of the room.

To the side of the fire, he had draped his clothes over an old chair, and in front of it he had pulled up an old, moth-eaten couch that he had covered with blankets so that you wouldn’t have to sit directly on the grime that had without a doubt been building up for however long this place had been abandoned.

Had it been under any other circumstances, you probably would have consider the whole thing romantic, even though it probably wasn’t meant to be. But as the circumstances were, in fact, not the best, you were just happy you would be able to get warm.

Arthur left you to undress on your own, crouching down in front of the fire and poking at the wood with a rusty fire poker to get the flames to dance just a little higher.

You raised your hands to start unbuttoning your coat, but soon came to the realization that it wouldn’t be possible. 

Your fingers were completely numb and your hands, and your entire body with them, shaking more than you originally realized, making you completely unable to grasp the tiny buttons between your fingers.

And it you couldn’t even get a hold of them, you sure as hell wouldn’t be able to push them all through the narrow, tiny holes of the fabric, either.

You sighed sourly, coming to term with the fact that now was the time you would have to give up your stubbornness. You needed to get out of your wet clothes in order to get warm, but you wouldn’t be able to on your own.

“Arthur.”

His name fell quietly from your lips, but as the room was silent if you didn’t count the crackling of the fire and smattering of the rain against the roof and windows, he still heard you, turning to look at you at the sound of his names being called.

You silently moved your hands up to the first button, demonstrating with shaky fingers that you couldn’t undo them by yourself.

He stared at you for a moment after you had let your hands fall back to your sides, before wordlessly putting the fire poker to the side and standing up, coming over to you where he wasted no time in starting to unbutton your coat with nimble fingers.

You just stood there limply, gazing at his face as he put all of his concentration on the task at hand. 

It was clear that it took some effort, his hands clearly, although not numb like yours as he was now on the fourth button, still very cold.

He quickly reached the bottom of your coat, and instead of walking away to let you undress by yourself like you had expected him to do, he instead started peeling the article of clothing off your arms to reveal your equally as soaked through white blouse.

And as always with white clothing, when it was soaked through, it was also very see through. And of course, this just happened to be the only day you decided not to wear a bra, as the trip to London had been a last minute call and you were originally supposed to have your day off.

No sane woman walked around their home on a day off with a bra on.

He was flustered by the fact that he could now practically see your bosom, something you could see clearly by the way his eyes flickered from your chest to your eyes before he hurriedly fled to the chair that had held his clothes with your coat in his hand.

He moved his own clothes to the side slightly so that he could hang your coat at the back of the chair, and then made move to go back to his spot by the fireplace. But before he could get very far, you cleared your throat, causing him to halt and turn back to you.

And this time, he wasn’t the only one to be flustered.

You were happy the warm hue of the fire illuminated the room, or else he would’ve for sure been able to see the faint dusty pink on your cheeks.

You cleared your throat again, motioning to the belt and several buttons of your black cargo pants. “I need help with this, too.”

Arthur didn’t make any sound of protest, only avoiding your eyes and coming back up to where you stood and wasting no time in getting to work on your belt.

He undid the clasp and left the belt in the loops, going straight to the buttons. One button, two buttons, three buttons, four, and your pants were successfully undone and ready to get rid of.

This time, it was Arthur’s time to clear his throat, as he slowly started inching them down your hips. But it was easier said than done, the wet fabric having sucked onto your skin like a leech.

He had to get down on his knees to even have a chance to get them off, and out of instinct, your hands went to his hair, holding on gently to keep your balance as you helped pull your legs out of the pant-legs.

Once they were completely off he stood back up, his face now much closer to yours than it had been before he kneeled down,

Your eyes locked together, both scanning each other with almost suspicious gazes. 

His breath was warm against your cold lips and smelled of the countless of cigars he had smoked on the way to, in and from London; a smell you had hated before you met him but had now grown to love because you loved him.

You caught yourself by surprise when thinking that, as it had been the first time you had really admitted your feelings towards him to yourself.

But Arthur took both you and himself by surprise when he in the next second with hurried motions leaned in, closing the small space between you and attaching his lips to yours.

Your eyes widened at the sudden turn of events and your body stood frozen on the spot, not daring to move a muscle. 

You didn’t get much time, at least not as much as you would have needed, to respond to his actions, as he pulled away just as quickly.

Even though the kiss barely even lasted five seconds, it left both of you breathless. 

He looked at you, clearly debating what to do next. And to be truthful, he didn’t look to have a clue.

So you did what you had been doing, or attempting to, at least, for the past three months; you took matters into your own hands, grabbing him by the backside of his neck and pulling him back down, crashing your lips against his with thrice the force than before.

And he responded immediately, hands coming to grab at your waist to pull you closer and moving his lips against yours desperately.

As you tensed your muscles, a rather harsh shiver ran through your entire body, causing Arthur to break apart briefly.

“You’re shakin’.” He mumbled against your lips, but you were too eager to even hear what he was saying.

“Yeah.” You only mumbled back, pulling him back in for another kiss by his neck. His fingers slowly started inching the fabric of your wet blouse up and just the intense anticipation building in your chest caused your breath to grow heavier.

But much to your dismay, he came to a stop just as quickly again, visibly flinching when his now somehow warm fingers came in contact with the icy cold skin of your waist, and this time, he broke away from your lips completely, taking a small step back.

“Fookin’ hell, you’re freezing.” He commented.

A trembling chuckle left your lips at that, but whether it was from the cold or from the feeling of his fingers absentmindedly caressing your hip that you were now trembling, you didn’t know.

“Yeah.” You repeated, this time with a shaky chuckle, and you quickly came to conclusion that it was probably the cold in your bones that was causing the tremble of your body when he placed his palm flat against the curve of your back and your entire body started to shiver violently at the contrast of his burning hand against your icy skin.  

How he had managed to get his hands warmed up so quickly when they had been cold only a  minute before, you had no idea.

But no matter what he had done, you knew that you needed his rapidly growing body temperature to get your own up, and he seemed to know it as well. 

He led you over to the couch and sat down, pulling you down on his lap and draping two of the blankets over your shoulders. 

Your hands found their way to his shoulders while his hinds moved to start pulling at the strings of your blouse, all while looking you straight in the eyes. 

“Let’s get ya warmed up, eh?”

[sorabeebb]

After reading a lot of fics and imagines, I decided to write and post something about my Oc and Reno during the events of Before Crisis 😊

Hope you like it! And I’m sorry if Reno is out of character and if there’re mistakes, english isn’t my first language.

Pairing: Reno x Oc (Neila)

Warnings: swearing, blood,torture, mentions of dead.

Word count : 3024

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The deafening sound that was being made by the chopper’s propeller didn’t give a chance to strike up a conversation. The long ride to the proximities of Nibelheim was spent in complete silence between the two Turks and the SOLDIER. It wasn’t uncommon during war times that the brute-strength from SOLDIER and the slyly approach, a Turk’s trait, were paired up when required. Although the built-up rivalry between the two sections could be almost touched. 

Tseng ,on one of the two pilot seats, never took part in these meaningless arguments. He thought both divides had their purposes to benefit Shinra interests. The Turks were more suitable for works which didn’t need a straight strike like  SOLDIERs were. Of course they had to deal with more or less undesirable tasks but Turks were more refined than that. 

However Reno at his left, on the other pilot seat was everything a Turk shouldn’t be. He had got a big mouth, usually tried to pick up fights with SOLDIERs, with obnoxious ways of doing missions but he was good accomplishing them nevertheless. Tseng had to give that to him. 

On the other hand was Neila, a second-class SOLDIER,  at the back of the chopper. Tseng had scouted her some years prior in Junon, dragging her out of that fortified  town straight to the SOLDIER tests. He had seen potential into that teenage girl, which soon was proved. She had a way with magic and an extraordinary stamina. Perhaps she didn’t demonstrate a powerful brute force or strength as most SOLDIERs did, but in reality she had got it after all those mako baths and trainings. Neila had trained her ass to where she was standing.

The ride could have been worse if the airscrew hadn’t plunged the snarky remarks of Reno about the unnecessary presence of a SOLDIER around. 

Tseng just became lost into some mission reports or files just after Reno had taken the helicopter off, , whilst Neila had brought some book with her to read at the back seats calmly.  

After almost six hours of riding, Tseng took control of the chopper. “The last sighting of Hideki was of him heading to the mountains. Some trail must have been left behind. Find him and recover the files he has stolen. Then put them back into the Shinra Manor” He repeated the main parts of their mission.. 

“Gotcha.” Reno confirmed, stepping to the doors, while Neila gave just a nod as acknowledge.

“Don’t get yourselves into fights. Discretion, Reno!” Tseng called the red-haired Turk out.” is a must.” He still didn’t understand why Veld had chosen him for this mission. Other Turks would have been more suitable for this task, but Veld suspected Avalanche had something to do with it. Furthermore, the stolen goods were important classified op about secret experiments, which had been made years ago. He guessed the third in command Turk was the best option at his boss’ eyes. 

Tseng would retreat to Rocket Town, something about another mission of his, where he would wait till Reno notified him theirs was complete.

Jumping off, Reno and Neila fell over the rocky floor. Fresh and clean air filled their nostrils rapidly. They had landed far from the village, in the mountain chains surrounding it. 

Neila tensed up the same moment her feet touched the field. An odd grieving feeling started to overwhelm her, with a rhythmic pounding, beating softly at the sides of her head. She assumed the lack of rest was the reason behind it.    

A sour grimace appeared upon Reno’s face. He hated the countryside with all of his being. He had grown up in the slums, used to the mako steam filling the air, and although he was the first one to say the slums were garbage, Midgar felt like home, and all that rural areas with its nature and clean air sickened him. 

“ Let’s finish this fucking shit as soon as possible “ Reno said, pocketing out a cigarette, and lighting it up. Both of them strode up the hills, scouting the fields for any signs of Hideki. 

“You know smoking is bad for your health, right?” Neila spoke once she kneeled down before some footsteps. The headache fading away with each step they took farther.

“ And what?” He retorted after her irritated. She had seen him smoking several times before, often hanging out after a long day at work. What has gotten into her now?  

“ Nothing, just that is bad, I doubt Veld approves his Turks ruining their health. “ She turned her head to look at him. 

“ Lucky for you,  Veld doesn’t have a say about it.” He puffed on his cigar slowly, as a silent challenge. 

“ It’s a bad addiction. Just saying.” She wasn’t that fond of  his harsh attitude, which intimidated and annoyed her. 

“ There are worse addictions. I’ll die first working than from smoking, sweetheart. But your concern touched me.” Sarcasm in his voice, irritating Neila more. “Besides, you’re one to talk.” A SOLDIER trying to lecture him about bad addictions. He felt the urge of laughing at the occurrence. 

“ Suit yourself then.” She gave up about having a civilised conversation with the Turk. “ These footsteps… Hideki must have climbed up to the top. What do you think?” 

Reno kneeled besides her frame,invading her personal space and inspecting the trail. “ What a dimwit.” His cerulean eyes following the tracks ahead them. 

“ Excuse me?” Neila frowned at his words, and stood up on her feet again, glaring at him amazed.  The warmth his figure let off had felt so good against her bare arms.

Reno started to stride up the path, leaving her behind. “ If he’s gonna steal from Shinra, at least he could have tried not to let a sloppy trail of footsteps. Not that I’m complaining though.” He wasn’t, he rather wanted to be back in Midgar soon, but he also liked some type of challenge, not something this… simple. 

“ If you say so… Well,this way we’ll finish the mission in a record time.” 

“ Don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart. These mountains are full of monsters who have been living between mako residues for years. It will be a miracle if Hideki has not been devoured by those freaks yet. “ 

“ That’s why I’ve been deployed too? Because there are mako-contaminated monsters roaming around?” Neila guessed.

Reno didn’t answer her, and just keep on going up to the peak of the mountain, following Hideki’s clues. 

“ Now that I think about it. Does Hideki have anything to do with Wutai?” Neila asked again with curiosity. Brilliant mako eyes searching for the named man around the caves and boulders in their path. 

“ If I tell ya, I’ll have to kill ya.” A cocky smirk curled up his lips, shooting a side glare to the SOLDIER, while he threw the cigarette and stepped on it.  

“ You wouldn’t, not that you could anyway.” A loud laugh burst from him, who bent forward slightly, pulling a hand on his chest. “ What’s so funny?” 

“ Oh, sweetheart, I would, but not before enjoying other things first.” He sent a playful wink towards her, hidden intentions not that well hidden. The attraction between them wasn’t a secret though. 

“ In your dreams Reno.” Neila answered back, folding her arms and rolling her eyes. 

“ Have already done that yo.” Playfulness splattered upon all his features, and enjoying the blushing and embarrassment creeping Neila up. 

They were reaching the top without any unpleasant encounters, yet. Maybe Reno was right,and Hideki had already been eaten up. 

“ I know you’re joking, cut it off.” She ended the talk, ashamed. She would be lying if she said she didn’t think about it before. Even if Reno was insufferable most of the time, he still was attractive with his flashy red hair, blue eyes and those red marks, and without saying his strange selection of customized uniform. And his personality was tempting too, although it pushed her buttons too many times. 

“Oh? You are ashamed now? A strong SOLDIER like you? “ He carried his ironic remarks on, making her still more uncomfortable. 

“ I’m gonna make you swallow that rod of yours unless you shut up.” He was driving her up the wall. 

“ I would like to see ya trying to do it. “ The joking end up abruptly when a cry out for help crossed the air. Both of them ran up the last steps till the top, being welcomed by a hideous scene. 

There was their target, surrounded by a group of what looked like a four mutated praying mantis. Mako influence for sure. A leg and an arm had been ripped off from his body, blood gathering on the rocky land beside him. 

The bugs must have come across the man shortly before them. Unless they finished the monsters off, Hideki would be eaten and no options of getting information from him would be possible. 

Jumping out to action, Reno took his electric rod out, and Neila her sword. Although the mantis weren’t that many, the mako running through their organisms, made them stronger, and a  pain in the ass. 

If Neila remembered right from previous encounters, Mantis’ weak point was ice magic. “ Reno, back off!” She yelled out, while she gently caressed the green materia placed inside her left bracelet’s gauge.

The Turk was about to retort at her, but with his characteristic speed, he retreated back after noticing her intentions. 

The ice magic flew straight across the battlefield, hitting and freezing three of them. 

Now getting rid of the mantis should be a piece of cake.  With three frozen-up, the remaining  one didn’t stand a single chance. 

Lightning trails were drawn around the frozen monsters, followed by unpleasant cries in pain, which would have caused your ears to start bleeding.In the blink of an eye, Reno had wipe those things out with just one strike. 

“Man, I hate the bug-type monsters, I really do.” Neila murmured after taking care of the last one at Hideki’s foot. Her standard SOLDIER sword deeply impaled in its thorax, and some type of purplish blood splashed on her uniform.  

“ Well now, now… What do we have here?” Reno walked slowly, watching the almost limbless man laying down in agony. The facade he had showed previously around her, was replaced by a sadistic and cruel one, sending goosebumps down her spine. 

The SOLDIER wasn’t unaware of the inhuman things the Turks did, but she had never got the opportunity to witness one yet. 

Realization shone in the dark eyes of Hideki. “ A-a Turk!” stuttering, he dragged himself as far as he was able from Reno. “ Please! I didn’t do anything!” 

“ Of course you would say that, wouldn’t ya?”  Reno stepped onto Hideki’s stomach, pinning him down with force, not letting him more room to scape, or keep dragging on. “Now about the files you’ve stolen...Do you still have them on you or did you already give them away?

“ Reno, he’s lost too much blood. He won't…” Neila tried to say watching carefully the blood ponds. 

“ Please have mercy! I didn’t give nothing away! “ The man yelled, air leaving his lungs in short breaths. He didn’t have much time left. 

“Oh? So you still have them. “ Reno checked inside Hideki’s backpack, finding some type of old books and folders. “Who’s your contact?” 

Neila was speechless with the scene in front of her. Their target was crying and shouting due to an unbearable pain, his blood still blooming from his open cuts and lost limbs. And Reno was interrogating him not caring about his poor and bloody status. 

She had also done unnamed acts in her missions during the war time, but her work never consisted in torturing like this. 

“I don’t have a contact!”��

Reno chuckled before positioning his electric rod upon the man’s throat, as a silent threat. “ I’ll ask again idiot. Who’s your contact?” 

“Please!” an electric wave went across the injured body, more screams of pain could be heard, but soon were vanished amongst the rocky walls of the tallest mountains.

“Did ya change your mind? Or should I keep playing with you? Long time I don’t electrocute someone, I’ll be sure of making the most of it.” The Turk was smiling pleased with the sight of the man shouting. 

“Fujito! It’s Fujito!” Hideki answered. Fear could be read on his face. 

“Where?”  Reno pressed more the bar against his skin. 

“In the nearness of Wutai! Please I don’t know more, let me go!” 

A sigh escaped Reno’s mouth while he was dialing Tseng, who picked up instantly. He told Tseng all the information obtained, and after a brief minutes and a nod, Reno pocketed back his phone. 

Tseng must have given him directions.

“ Not that you would be able to reach that far… “ With a last look at Hideki, Reno stepped off of him, and walked back down the slope. “Come on sweetheart, we still have work to finish with. “ A gesture with his left hand told her it was the time to continue. 

Neila ran behind him, words caught in her throat, unable to bring them up. Some things couldn’t be approved, but work was work, and they had to do it. 

The flirtatious and cocky facade had been back on Reno’s face during the long rambling to Nibelheim. Several encounters with monsters slowed their descent.  Even though the mission had started rather earlier in the morning, when the sun hadn’t risen down yet, it was almost nightfall when they reached the village.

“ I guess we’ll have to leave things for today, don’t ya think?” 

“ Probably.” The headache had returned with every step they took. Not that it wouldn’t let her fight or keep with the mission, but it was getting tiresome now.

“I’ll notify Tseng, go ahead babe.” Reno stood outside the inn while Neila entered to ask for the room keys. The owner would be kinder to her in her second class SOLDIER uniform than to Reno with his characteristic and recognisable black suit.  

“ It was about time a SOLDIER was sent here to clean up the surroundings crawling with beasts.” The owner greeted her with a smile. 

“ Yeah, well… “ Shyness taking the best of her. She was awful at talking with strangers. 

“ Shinra booked two chambers, I guess those are yours. “ Veld must have taken care of it. The girl nodded, uncomfortable. “ Here you are. If you’re gonna clean the place, you’re gonna need a place to rest.” the keys were put on the wooden counter. 

“Thank you.” Taking the keys, she was ready to head up to the chambers, but Reno shuffled himself inside the inn, greeting the owner, whose face changed to a grimace of disgust.   

The Turks weren’t well welcomed here either. 

“ I’m exhausted sweetheart, we should go to bed. “ his arm over her shoulders, guiding her upstairs. 

“ Your key.” Neila offered the object to Reno. “ And please, hands off of me.” 

“ You’re hurting me.” A false expression of pain crossed Reno face, while he grab the key, but still refused to let her go. “ Acting all tough as if you don’t want it.” mockery present in his tone. 

“ That’s because…” 

“Don’t you dare lying to me. I’m not blind, nor I’m a fool. We’ve been toying with each other for a while.” He cut her off after a chuckle. Reno was starting to get tired of this shit. Fooling around was okay for a bit, but not for that long.  

“ And? You’ve got a problem with it?” swallowing the shyness, she was able to answer him. She wasn’t used to flirting , let alone a straightforward confrontation like this. For Bahamut, she had never had anything with anyone. When she was still a teenager Tseng had brought  her along to Midgar as a SOLDIER candidate. All of that romantic stuff was new for her. 

“ Don’t ya think it’s enough?” Reno had dragged her in front of him,holding her still with his hands on her shoulders, and leaned forward, blue eyes focused on hers. 

“ I doubt the corridor is the best place to discuss anything Reno.” tearing apart her gaze to the side.

“ You’re a tease.”  Reno might have been a sadistic, and might have done inexcusable things during his career, but forcing a woman was out of the question. There were some boundaries that couldn’t be crossed. 

“ It’s just that… I’ve never…” She whispered, ashamed. 

“ Ya know that I know, don’t ya?”  He had thought she wouldn’t have been that idiot to believe  that he hadn’t caught that she was inexperienced. He was a Turk for Bahamut's shake, he had been trained to pick up into people’s traits. Besides, her clumsy acts and nervous reactions at his flirting, demonstrated her innocence, anyone with two eyes would have caught it in a jiffy.    

The surprise in her features said otherwise. He let out an exasperated sigh, and released her shoulders, letting her free of his grip.It wasn’t that he was going to give up, but until she had made up her mind, he wouldn’t make a move “ It’s late and we still have a long day tomorrow. A comfy bed is waiting for us so… see ya tomorrow’s morning sweetheart. “ Giving her one of his signature smiles and shuffled to his assigned chamber.

Neila bit her lip, thoughts racing across her mind, but walked behind him and tugged his clothed arm, turning him to face her. 

His mouth slightly opened of surprise at the sudden movement she had done. This time Neila was the one leaning forward to him, her eyes sparkling with resolution.

Well, it looked like she had already made her mind up. In the blink of an eye, Reno shortened the distance till their lips meet into a sweet and naive kiss briefly.

 Once they broke apart, the smug smirk made its way back to Reno’s lips. “ See? It wasn’t that difficult.” 

“ You can’t have you mouth shut, can you?” blush drawing onto her cheeks, but her eyes were glittering more than normal. 

Reno let out a laugh, and bit his tongue to avoid saying a snarky remark before leaning down to meet her lips back again, this time into a more passionate and long kiss. After all, they’ve been playing around for weeks, it was about time.    

[legendaryorangeloot]

Collarbone

The moon is just cresting the horizon when I reach South City. Its cool light pulls on the roots of my hair, makes my teeth itch. I spent all day today goofing off at work, pacing like a bored zoo animal. These feast days are so rare, and my excitement hangs in the air like charged particles before a lightning strike.

And now it's time.

The moon fills my heart with a ferocious lust, buoying me up as I let my long, loping stride eat up the Gravois pavement. I can hear the music at Greatness already. I go there "straight" a few nights a week, let myself be seen. I'm a regular. I even dated the previous bartender, learned the cameras, the exit routes, the watching spots, the nearby alleys. Greatness is my garden, and I tend it carefully.

I like it because it attracts normal boys. They're sweet in a way you don't have to take seriously, smart in a way that never threatens you. They tend to have carefully-groomed hair, endearing sincerity, and well-marbled flesh.

Not all the produce is sweet, though. When I transform, I'm little—more coyote than wolf, more coydog than coyote. All-black, bristle-brush fur; pricked ears that make me look smart and alert. A dog you'd take home with you if it followed you down the street. I grew to trust the bartender, the first relationship I'd had. Born of necessity or not, I thought it would be forever. He was wild, too, in his own all-human way, and loved my secret. But it was because he had his own. One night, without warning or consent, he leaned over me, whispered in my alert black ear as he sank into my body, "I wanted you the second I saw you like this. You're the sexiest dog I ever fucked."

I like to think that he saw the sorrow in my eyes as I turned my head and clamped his trachea shut with my strong, strong jaws. It was intimate, almost erotic. For minutes he fought, thrashing, sweaty, nude, his erection waning, waxing, finally waning forever once I began to eat his throat, and all his blood left his body and soaked into his bed. His teeth felt like tiny hard candies to my canine senses. When I ripped out his tongue at the root and savored it bite by bite, I imagined I could taste everything he'd ever tasted, somehow stored within the muscle he'd used to gain my trust.

But that time is not this time. That time was just the first, and now the kills are deliciously unadulterated by love or regret.

As I near the bar door, I put on the right personality – wild, but not vicious. Available, but not easy. Challenging, but harmless. I check my reflection in an antique-shop window to make sure all this personality-shifting hasn't affected my shape.

Without careful control, sometimes you'll think "act harmless" and the power inside you makes it mean "look smaller, look younger". I have nothing but careful control. There are a few other people with the power to change into a wolf, a specific wolf that looks rather like their human form, but I have finesse that they can only dream of. I can play this body like one of those expensive synthesizers with all the sliders and knobs, as long as the form is human, canine, or both. And I work at my craft, mostly preferring the wholly-unnatural, anthropomorphic, six-foot-tall "wolfman" shape, complete with the goofy clawed hands and feet. What can I say? They're useful, if hideous, constructions. Second choice: a real wolf, a timber wolf, huge. The kind you see in nature documentaries, every hair in place, unmistakably lupine.

I am so proud of all the carefully-sculpted forms that I feel vaguely ashamed of my natural one. Not the average-build, solidly-muscled human one, with the deeply tanned olive skin and the untameable black curls, but the real one, the one that looks half-coyote, half-Schipperke. It was the thing I was most embarrassed to show the bartender, the boyfriend, even after he'd seen me as a slavering movie-monster nonsense beast a dozen times. He saw my true form and thought me weak, small, fuckable. A dog.

But now his opinion is gone, digested, and irrelevant, because I am alone, and I am hungry.

I won't lie and say I notice you across a crowded room. That when I walk in, all the other people fade away. That it is lust at first sight. No, you escape first notice in an inoffensive way, a practiced way. You're a listener, I can tell. You move your eyebrows involuntarily when you're eavesdropping. Wolf-creature that I am, I can't tolerate eye contact, but I do watch those charming brows from the corner of my eye.

I sit at the bar and chat amiably with a girl I kind-of know, at a volume I know is audible to you. I surreptitiously look at you while you're not looking. You're lovely. You're rakish, scruffy, endearingly asymmetrical around the eyes. Your gestures all speak volumes. You even smoke adorably, like you learned it much too early.

My story for tonight, my bait, cast out into the noise of the bar: recent breakup, broken heart, need distraction. It's a hard one to turn down, I've found. Your brows go up minutely on "distraction". I know you think you know what I mean, and it will make the eventual reveal that much more satisfying.

I contain my eyeteeth before they can visibly lengthen, because that's a rookie mistake, but, oh, how I want them to be longer. I want them that much closer to your skin. I can imagine how it will taste, all sweat and smoke, the fine hairs crumpling under my rough tongue, the restraint I'll have to exert when I use just the sharp, sharp points to tease the first bite.

I let my kind-of friend talk at me about her kids, her day, her husband. But what I'm thinking about is where I'll start on you. Your loose plaid shirt reveals the edge of your clavicle, and the sight of it has my mouth watering in an instant. It's been so long. I'm torn between speeding things up by making the first move, and resisting the temptation to rush through this sensual experience you and I are going to share.

I never could resist temptation.

You're writing in a notepad, so this is an easy introduction: "Whatcha' writing?" I try for "chipper, good-natured interest", but lust makes it come out more "sultry purr". I don't think you mind. You're falling all over yourself to answer, the love of your work and your obvious interest in me giving you a puppylike eagerness that I instantly adore, and preemptively mourn.

I listen, mostly. You're a writer; you write. In conversation, you do the same kind of IQ-gauging I did in my human dating life, throwing out a breadcrumb trail of wordplay that gets progressively more challenging. I do understand, and I laugh at the right times, I let our eyes meet for spare milliseconds so you know I understand. I parry back, I surprise a few laughs out of you. I play off of your self-deprecating humor, testing your boundaries for submission, loving what I find.

But my brain really isn't in peak wordplay condition. I just want you now. I want the moment when I gently bite the skin above your collarbone. I want to hear you gasp and moan, hear that unnameable noise-with-an-edge when you feel my real teeth, hear your hazy excitement bloom into bright fear as you realize what will happen next. I want that first bite, the crunch of that beautiful, delicate bird bone against my incisors, and the next bite, and the next. When we're done, I want the walls to double as a red Rorshach test. I want to make the crime scene techs vomit.

You compliment my loud sudden bark of a laugh, and for once, maybe for the first time ever, I am genuinely flattered. I feel like I probably shouldn't give you the compliment I thought of in return, which is: "That made me like you so much that I want to find out what you taste like." But then I say it anyway, and you blush, and I imagine licking your cheek hard enough to burst some superficial capillaries, imagine tasting everything about you, even your embarrassment.

Even though I've laid out a welcome mat for you between my thighs, you still just talk to me, still treat me like a person. It throws me a bit at first, but I figure we have all night. There are drinks and jokes. We tell stories that quickly get more and more personal. I find out about your parents, your brother, your wonderfully strange upbringing. I tell you some carefully-censored tales of living in rural Texas. I tell you a completely-false story of how I got my completely-true nickname, "The Terror of Bulverde". To make up for the lies, I tell you the real true truth of how much I love my family.

The conversation is weirdly nourishing on its own, and the bottles of Shiner are cold and remind me of home. You talk with your hands more and more as you get drunker, and my accent gets stronger and stronger as I exercise my rarely-used human voice. We laugh at ourselves, how ridiculous it all is, can you believe we've never met before, it feels like I've known you forever.

Next thing I know, we're being shooed out of the bar at closing time, and you're suddenly serious when you ask me if I'm sober. I say "As a goddamn judge," solemnly, but my accent is all the way up to 11, and we grin at each other stupidly. You invite me over, and I had almost forgotten that this was the whole point, that this was the endgame. I'll get to still those talking hands, eat them from fingers to palm, bathe my muzzle in your well-educated brain, see if I gain your powers when I consume your heart. I've already made up my mind not to waste one single bit of your beautiful body. I'm going to den up in your house for days, gorging myself until you're gone.

I don't care that everyone saw us leave together. I am Icarus, my wolf-wings melting in proximity to your purely-human kindness. This kind of sentimentality is what gets creatures like me killed, I remind myself. But then you take my hand, gently, and I feel like I should go confess my crimes and be skinned for a coat. Or, given my absolute size, some kind of shawl. Your gentleness is both warming me and burning me alive. I wonder to myself if this is what hard drugs feel like. Drugs don't really work on werewolves. The drug that you are is working on this werewolf, though.

We stop several times on the walk to your apartment to shove each other into little alleys, indented doorways, and once, accidentally, a shrub, and we make out like it's the last thing we'll ever do, which seems appropriate to the occasion. You kiss like you talk: not a monologue, but a friendly give-and-take, with your hands frequently involved. We crack jokes continuously, and interrupt each other, and play-fight, and the feel of your wiry muscles and their light shield of fat under my play-punches makes my stomach rumble. The moon is full, and fully out, and I know I've let my hair lengthen, and that my eyes are probably less human-looking than I'd like, by now.

On your doorstep, fiddling with the key and lock, you tell me that I don't have to sleep with you, that if I'm too drunk, that if I have reconsidered, you won't be upset. I ignore you and step over the threshold and start undressing before you've even closed the door behind us. For a second, you look as though perhaps you aren't sure if you're awake or asleep.

We race to the bed, shedding clothing, and you practically pounce on me, not predatory, but playful, and we forgot to turn on any lights, and it's so exciting and I'm so hungry I think I might die. Your hands are everywhere on my body, always followed closely by your mouth, and that, and everything I can touch on your body, and every glimpse of you I catch, lit by the wan streetlight, is making me want you more than I thought was possible.

And I am somehow in your lap, and you're a much larger person than I thought you were, or maybe I've gotten smaller, and the next thing I know I'm me, the real me, the little black wolf, just muscle and fur and teeth, and I'm sinking those white, white teeth deep into the soft, beautiful junction of your neck and chest. And I didn't even give myself time to appreciate it, but here we are, and here's that bone I wanted, crunched to pieces, half-eaten already. And your look of shock and betrayal and realization makes your bone and flesh curdle in my jaws, but it's too late to put it back.

We freeze this way. It's a Moment, one that feels like we exist outside of time, yet we don't; the seconds are marked by the rapid pulsing of your blood onto the sheets, onto the floor, your delightful soft-pink skin paling before my eyes.

And you say, plaintively, "I thought you liked me." I am consumed by regret, it's a pyre, I'm being burned at the stake by a single sentence, and the pain makes me desperate for a solution, until I realize I may have one. Just one. My shape shifts without conscious thought to some kind of confused dog-with-hands, but I use them to shove whatever fabric I have near me against the wound at your throat, and press down hard. I bite the inside of my cheek and hot blood wells there instantly, mixing with the remnants of yours in my mouth. You're so, so smart that even near-exsanguination can't keep you from figuring out what I'm doing. You look by turns terrified, hopeful, disgusted.

I bring my lips to yours and try to will whatever particle transmits lycanthropy into my mouth's blood, hoping this is really how the process works. You look ill. You look bloodless. You pass out, and I'm left holding my discarded shirt against your fatal wound, and remembering how to pray: god if you just let him heal just let him live he will figure this out I will make it up to him I will make it up to you I will go and sin no more oh please, oh please, oh please

Epilogue

The bizarre, crushed-looking scar atop your torso always elicits questions you can't answer truthfully when you're naked with other people. The bone never grows back, and your new physiology prevents an implant or a surgical fix. You'll never need to see a doctor again. You might live to be hundreds of years old. No one knows our potential lifespan. No one knows anything about us.

You seem to take it all in stride, telling one woman it's where you were hit with a warhammer, telling another man it's from a skydiving accident. It makes you very mysterious and intriguing, and the gossip about you is always entertaining, if painful, to overhear.

You say you forgive me, and maybe, since you've now experienced numerous full moons yourself, felt what I felt that night, you mean it. But you've never hurt a soul. I selfishly infected you with a kind of insanity, and you infected me with your gentleness, your curse of caring about others. So I skulk around the edges of your life, and I bring you raw red beef and whole chickens and half the rabbits I catch each month. We never speak, or kiss, and I never, ever look you in the eye.

[ilovemygaydad]

title: until we meet again

pairing: demus (deceit/remus)

summary: a zombie apocalypse isn’t the place to be catching feels. unfortunately, dc is doing exactly that with a mysterious man that he met in an alley.

word count: 4.1k

warnings: remus, deceit, sympathetic deceit, zombie apocalypse, mentions of cuts and bruises, swearing, heated making out sessions, implied nudity, weapons, threats, almost attempted murder, mentions of broken glass, mentions of casual sex, mentions of hickeys, innuendos, fainting (once), mentions of STDs, death mentions, crying, sadness, anxiety, sort of breakups? it really isn’t one but idk, sexual attraction, possibly something else

***this fic obviously has a lot of triggers in it, so if you have any questions or concerns, or if you need a summary of parts with specific triggers, please send me an ask! your safety is my number one priority here, and i would hate for anybody to be engaging in unsafe reading practices!***

a/n: so this is... new for me. i’ve never written this ship or this kind of au, nor have i had deceit be the main character (in a serious manner, at least), and i’ve never attempted remus seriously, either. i hope i didn’t fuck up the descriptions of sexual attraction and making out because idk what i’m doing as a sex repulsed asexual! rip me i guess lol. also shoutout to @adultmorelikeadolt for listening to me ramble about this and proof reading it <3 they’re the real mvp here, so check their stuff out, too!!! also, this got way longer than i thought... whoops?

a/n 2: this is heavily based off of death valley by fall out boy! you can listen to it here

Commission Info

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---

DC breathed a heavy sigh of relief as soon as the beat-up VW bus screeched to a stop inside of the checkpoint station. It had been far too long since the last one, and each mile that ticked off on the odometer made him increasingly anxious. The dense forests of Maine were the perfect hiding spots for zombies or bandits, which Virgil so fantastically liked to point out every time that it got dark. Yet they trudged deeper and deeper into the state, driving towards the safety of Canada.

But finally, they had made it.

Roman threw the bus into park and hopped out of the driver’s seat, and the others piled out of the back right after. The checkpoint station was huge--easily one of the largest in the country--but its size made sense given that it was one of two in the entirety of New England. DC gazed around the part of the checkpoint that he could see, and he was in awe at how normal it looked. Other than the giant fences and sentries, it looked like an average New England town. If he hadn’t known any better, he would have believed that there had never been a zombie outbreak in the first place.

Neat, uniform streets of houses stretched before him with shops-turned-supply-stations interspersed between them. Children were outside playing, and adults were going about their days with only a slightly heightened level of concern. Unlike all of the other stations they’d passed through on their way from Miami, it was clean and calm, and a person didn’t have to worry about being pickpocketed or stabbed on their way back from getting their rations.

The guards advanced on them, and Patton talked to the officers as they searched the bus for illegal contraband. Once the bus was clear, they were ushered into the nearest building--a small, gray brick cube that looked more like a sad excuse for a shed than anything--and were tested for the virus. With the exception of Logan fainting, the group was completely cleared to continue into the checkpoint without issue. A guide was designated to them for their month-long stay both to help them become familiar with the checkpoint and to dissuade any of the residents from becoming hostile towards the newcomers.

They drove fifteen minutes into the checkpoint to the visitor park, which was where they were allowed to park the bus. Although their guide, whose name was Remy, offered them a tour, they politely declined. They had been on the road for nearly six days, only stopping to rest or refuel, which might have been circumnavigated had it not been for the Pittsburgh checkpoint being on lockdown.

Long story short, they were tired and really just needed to sleep.

Well, everyone else needed to sleep. DC was too keyed up from the trip to feel anything other than restless, so as soon as he was sure the others were asleep and that the sun had set, he snuck out of the bus and took to the darkest alleys of the checkpoint. He moved with expert silence through the night. His feet took him far from the bus to a more desolate area. Similarly to a normal city, the checkpoint had a dilapidated section of buildings that the more unfortunate people lived, which seemed proportional to the size of the area. 

It was eerily silent amidst the ruined structures. Aside from the occasional rat skittering across an alley, it was completely, utterly quiet.

Footsteps echoed just behind DC. Those footsteps were not his own.

Lightning fast, DC had his stalker pinned against the crumbling brick wall. He expected a fight back, but the man was merely grinning at him in glee. Electric green eyes stared at him with an unnerving amount of energy.

“The last time someone pinned me against a wall, both parties ended up without clothes on,” the man giggled, leaning his head as far forward as DC’s hold would allow. His mustache twisted along with each movement of his mouth. “I wouldn’t mind if this interaction ended the same way.”

DC decided to ignore that comment. “Why were you following me?”

“‘Cause you’re new! We never get visitors.”

That seemed fair. People tended to stay at their original checkpoints.

“And I think you’re hot.”

“Oh, and that makes stalking me so much better. I’m not disgusted by you right now.”

The man’s odd smile grew. “People usually are, so I’m not surprised.”

DC didn’t even know how to reply. He opened and closed his mouth, scouring his brain for a comeback, when a rogue hand tugged on his belt loop. Before he could even process what was happening, their positions had been reversed. 

Oh, shit.

“You’re so pretty when you’re pretending to be tough!” The man was surprisingly strong, and his hands held DC firmly in place regardless of how much he struggled. “I wonder what it would be like when you’re angry. Just fully animalistic.”

“Fuck you,” DC spat.

“Promise?”

Logan probably would have been worried about how aggressively DC rolled his eyes. “In your dreams.”

“Who says we can’t make dreams a reality?” the man whispered in a voice that sent a chill running through DC’s blood. Was this man seriously flirting with him? Was he seriously flirting back?

“I don’t give myself up so easy to dirty street dwellers.”

The man smirked, and a dark glitter flashed in his eyes. “I put the ‘d’ in dirt, baby. I can show you if you’d like.”

DC was suddenly glad that the scars covering the left half of his face were gnarly enough to distract from any blushing.

“Come on,” the man crooned. “Come with me, and I can show you a good time.”

“No. No, I can’t.” DC rushed, and to his surprise, he was immediately let go.

“Okay.” The man took a step back, allowing DC an escape route.

“Okay?”

The man gestured down the alley, still smiling. “You are free to go. I can’t keep you here.”

“Oh,” DC said. “Okay.”

As DC walked away, the man called, “Good bye!” He pretended that he didn’t hear.

---

For some godforsaken reason, DC found himself sitting on a dumpster in the alley the next day. Being out at night didn’t affect him much as he tended to prefer sleeping during the day, and he had yet to be caught by either guards or the rest of his group. Still, he hadn’t exactly been expecting to want to return to the place where he had met the strange man.

But he had, so there he was, sitting on a dumpster lid and staring up at the sky.

“BOO!” a voice suddenly shouted behind DC, and he barely managed to catch  himself before he could be sent tumbling to the pavement. The same giggling from the night before echoed through the alley as the man skipped around the dumpster, stopping right in front of DC. “Hiya!”

“Hello.”

“I can’t believe you came back! People don’t usually want to be in this area of the checkpoint.”

“Well,” DC said, shrugging. “I’ve been told that I’m very usual.”

The man laughed, setting his elbow on the edge of the dumpster to place his chin in his palm. “You’re so funny!”

“Thanks.” DC tried to imagine what the man had found so funny, but his train of thought was cut short when the man moved again. He crossed his arms on the dumpster edge and rested his chin on DC’s crossed legs, looking up through his thick lashes. It took every ounce of restraint not to make a strangled noise at the very, very intimate position.

“So... Why did you come back?”

There was a second that DC considered lying, but he knew deep down that this man would be able to tell. “You.”

“Oh,” the man said breathily as if all of the air had been knocked out of his lungs.

“Kiss me?”

The tone of the man’s voice (the man--DC didn’t even know his name) turned dark, and he said, “God, yes.”

They moved quickly, and the second that DC’s boots hit the pavement, he was pressed back against the dumpster with a searing kiss. He hadn’t felt such an intense fire under his skin since before the apocalypse--since before he’d sworn off feelings altogether. A sharp flash of teeth ran across his lip before biting down so hard that DC was surprised his skin didn’t break. In retaliation, he thread his fingers in the other man’s hair and tugged, which elicited a surprised moan out of his companion. 

If DC’s skin had been on fire before, he was burning now, and he took advantage of the distraction to deepen the kiss further. Too soon, the other man pulled away, grinning dangerously with shining green eyes. His cheeks held a heavy flush that matched the red swell of his lips. 

“Do you want to take this somewhere more appropriate?” he asked in a husky voice that nearly made DC’s knees give out.

“Please.”

---

DC continued to sneak out to meet up with the strange man. It was fun and extremely enjoyable, so why wouldn’t he go back? He had to spend the month in the checkpoint anyway; it made sense to find something to do (literally) in his free time. Once his time was up, he would leave, and everything would go back to normal.

He could forget any of these meetings ever happened.

He would.

Because they were merely for sex. Nothing else.

They didn’t mean anything.

DC turned his head to look at the man next to him. They still didn’t know each others’ names. They were two strangers who happened to cross paths in a dingy alley. Nothing more than the product of long lines of choices. A high that they just couldn’t get enough of.

The man’s eyes were closed, and his breathing was even and deep. In the moonlight that shined through the broken window, the gray streak in his hair glimmered like a silver lake. The soft part of his lips was starkly juxtaposed with the harsh bruises and scrapes on his skin. If it were any other time, DC would have described him as stunning.

Wait.

...

No.

No. No, He wasn’t thinking like that. Sure, the man was attractive, but that was it. He was a good fuck--a good time during the god damn zombie apocalypse. DC wasn’t some fucking teenage YA protagonist yearning for the pretty bad boy. It wasn’t like he’d fallen in love with this crass, borderline violent stranger.

Holy shit, DC had fallen in love, and he had no idea what to do with himself.

The man’s eyes fluttered open and met his gaze. He yawned and propped himself onto his elbow, grinning his usual Cheshire smile. DC’s heart pounded heavily in his chest.

“Ready for another round?” the man teased as he traced the hickeys on DC’s neck.

“I-I’ve gotta go!” DC scrambled off of the stained mattress, throwing on his clothes with urgency.

“What?”

“I just--I have to go.”

The man couldn’t even get another word in before the door to his room slammed closed.

---

The following three days were spent moping, napping, and pointedly not leaving the bus. Mostly napping. Definitely not moping.

He didn’t want to think about the pretty man from the alley. No part of his mind wanted to be reminded of soft lips and green eyes and burning passion. It was so damn tiring to confront the horrible reality of DC being in love. 

Because this was the apocalypse.

And he was going to leave in a couple of weeks.

The apocalypse was neither the time nor place to grow attached to a man who skulked around in alleys like the rat bastard that he was.

But god, he had fallen hard. DC would close his eyes and see a silver streak and tan, calloused hands and shiny scars. Memories of sharp teeth on sensitive skin mingled with the sensation of hot flashes in his blood, quickening his heart rate as he wished to go back and be held and loved. What deity had he angered in a past life to deserve the burden of emotions? Why couldn’t he have just stayed in the bus on the second day instead of going to the alley? How was he supposed to move on?

A sad, strangled noise escaped his throat as he contemplated his existence.

The back door of the bus swung open, and DC stilled, pretending to be asleep. He was luckily turned away from the door, so his tear-streaked face wasn’t visible to whomever opened the door. They clambered in and shut the door with a heavy thunk. They sat, of course, right behind DC’s back.

“Dee, I know you’re awake,” Virgil said. “I could hear you sobbing from outside.”

“I know what you’re talking about, Virgil. I was crying.”

Virgil huffed out a short laugh. “Wow, double lies. That’s pretty impressive.”

“Don’t go away.”

“Alright. I won’t.”

DC turned to glare at Virgil. There was no reason to hide his obvious crying when Virgil had already called him out on it. “I hate you.”

Virgil smiled sympathetically. “I know, Dee, but you’ve been in this slump for days now. Even Logan is starting to notice that you’re upset. What’s wrong?”

“I just...” he trailed off, trying to think of what he wanted to say. “I met someone.”

“We all have met people in the checkpoint, dude. We don’t know anybody here--oh. Oh, you met someone.” Virgil’s eyes went wide as the realization hit him like a truck. “You fell for them.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter anymore. I ran away.”

“You what?!” Virgil screeched.

“Please, continue acting so incredibly melodramatic. It suits you,” DC grumbled. He rolled his eyes and turned away. 

Virgil scoffed. “I can’t believe how fucking stupid you are! I might as well have a god damn rock for a friend.”

“Your words are so kind.”

“I’m sorry that you threw away your own fucking happiness because you’re afraid of love! You had it, DC. You found someone, and you want to just throw it away!”

DC pulled himself up, throwing a harsh look at Virgil. “We have less than two weeks left in this checkpoint. When that time is up, we will leave, and I will never see him again. Continuing to see him will only bring me more distress, not to mention that I have no idea if he even feels anything for me aside from sexual attraction.”

“Dude, can you shut the fuck up for a second? Seriously, for the past few weeks, you were happier than I’d seen you since well before the apocalypse.” Virgil let out a heavy sigh. “At least apologize. I know you like to keep up your morally-gray schtick, but he deserves to hear why you ran away.”

There were a few seconds of angry silence before DC spat, “I love when you’re right!”

Virgil merely smiled and pat his shoulder, climbing out of the van.

The sun wouldn’t be setting for a few hours, so DC had plenty of time to figure out what the fuck he was supposed to say.

---

It felt like major déjà-vu for DC to be sitting on the same dumpster, hoping that the man would show up. Sure, he could have just traveled to the man’s odd little apartment, but it was far more difficult to make a quick escape from a building than it was an alley. Thus, DC had settled to take his chances of sitting on the dumpster should his partner (fuck buddy? significant other???) be furious. 

Anger was a pretty valid response given the circumstances.

It had been a couple of hours since he’d arrived, and it was a bit chilly. He shivered, pulling his old leather jacket closer around him. His eyes squeezed shut as if he could will away the cold air. Canada’s weather was going to be an absolute bitch if Maine was bordering on unbearable for DC.

“Oh,” a familiar voice exclaimed from in front of the dumpster, and DC’s eyes snapped open. The man had his hands on his hips in a childlike pose, but the glimmer in his eyes bordered on murderous. “Y’know, I was starting to think I’d have to hunt you down myself, but you just waltzed back in like the idiot you are!” He shifted slightly, and the moonlight caught the metal of the knife in his hand.

“Don’t wait!” DC cried when the man lifted his arm in preparation to strike. “I didn’t want to apologize. Please, you don’t have to hear me out!”

“I do? I didn’t realize that I was under the jurisdiction of lying bastards!” The man laughed, but it was dark and lacking any humor.

“I love you,” DC blurted before he could stop himself. He clamped his hands over his mouth in horror.

I love you. The words hung in the air like a child’s mobile. They couldn’t be retracted; they couldn’t be taken back. Each syllable stuck in reality. I love you.

“Oh,” the man said, staring at DC in shock. “You aren’t lying.”

“Yes,” he lied. “I am. I wasn’t scared of my feelings. My friends and I won’t leave in a week and a half, and after that...”

The man let the knife drop to the pavement with a heavy clatter, moving to take DC’s hands. “We’re going to die. It’s just a matter of time before it happens, but what we do with that time is up to us.” He paused, and a wicked smirk twisted his lips. “Who you do is also a choice to make.”

DC choked out a laugh because it was so familiar to hear a stupid innuendo coming from this man’s lips. Love coursed through his veins for all of the stupidest reasons, but it felt so good. Virgil had been right--he was happy. He was purely, simply happy. For once, the apocalypse was on the back of his mind, and he was enjoying existence.

“I won’t have to leave,” he murmured despite himself. “It will last.”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. Let’s make every second of this next week and a half count, okay?”

Maybe Virgil had been right about DC being an idiot, too, because he nodded and said, “Okay.”

---

There were only twelve hours remaining before DC had to leave the Maine checkpoint station.

There were only twelve hours remaining before DC had to leave the only person that he’d ever truly loved.

They were laying together on the man’s mildly disgusting mattress. The man--yes, he was still known as the man because they decided anonymous identities would be best--was lightly tracing his fingers down the bare skin of DC’s back, which would have been soothing if they hadn’t been acutely aware of the clock running out. 

“You should come with us,” DC whispered. He’d been mulling the idea around in his mind for a while, but he hadn’t known how to bring it up.

“What?”

“Come with us,” he repeated fervently, sitting up. “The rest of the group wouldn’t mind one more person, and we could easily take you across the border.”

“No.”

It was DC’s turn to say, “What?”

“No,” the man sighed as he sat up as well. “I can’t go with you.”

“Why not?!”

“Look around!” He gestured at the debris-filled room. Glass and rock littered most of the floor, and the rest was covered in clothes and containers of food. “I have no worth. I despise using the characteristics of ‘good’ and ‘bad,’ but it isn’t fair to such kind people to have to take on someone like me.”

“They’d be happy to let you tag along--”

“I know, but I have to make it on my own.” His green eyes sparked with determination. “I’ll make it on my own.”

“Will you promise? I don’t care if it’s meaningless, but... it’ll make it easier to leave if I have reassurance that you’ll find me.” DC let his fingers intertwine with the other man’s in an attempt to forget about the pit in his stomach.

“I promise.”

---

One Year Later

Things had finally started settling down for the group. Nearly all of them had been able to secure some sort of job, and they had a roof over their heads that wasn’t attached to a vintage bus. Things were good. DC was happy, healthy, and safe.

A bit lonely, but he still had his friends.

He knew deep down that the man he’d met in Maine wouldn’t make it to Canada. DC had left him with a map marked with where the group was going to end up, but without a mode of transportation, the whispered promises to find each other would stay in the crumbling ruins of an apartment complex. That was okay, even if his heart still held on to the green-eyed stranger like there was a chance of being together.

When he’d eventually told the others of his fling, they’d all been supportive in their own ways. Patton gave him a long hug and whispered gentle reassurances into his ears, and Roman had told him that anything was possible until proven impossible. Logan scolded him about being reckless, claiming that he would have been pissed that DC had survived the apocalypse for so long just to be taken down by potential STDs. Even though Virgil had already known, he still offered a shoulder to cry on. DC would never admit it, but he appreciated how loved he felt.

He shook his head to clear his mind. It was nearly two in the morning; he should’ve been trying to sleep instead of dwelling on the past. Logan always liked to preach about circadian rhythm and all that jazz.

Whatever. DC cut his losses and went to the tiny kitchen, throwing a pot of water on the stove to boil. He took out his mug and a packet of chamomile tea that Patton had stocked for his insomnia as he waited. At least he was trying to coax his body into sleep. Virgil usually just listened to news stations on the radio until the sun rose. Old, paranoid habits died hard, he supposed.

A knock at the door pulled DC out of his thoughts. They never received any visitors, and they definitely were never this late at night. Cautiously, he grabbed the heavy flashlight from its spot next to the hall closet. He prepared to swing at whoever was outside and peered out of the peephole.

Bright green eyes stared back at him, and the flashlight clattered to the ground, barely missing his foot. He flung the door open because there was no way that he was seeing things right, but standing less than a meter away was the man from Maine. DC couldn’t believe his eyes. It couldn’t be real.

“Hey,” the man said as though they had never been apart.

“Holy shit.”

The man giggled, playfully setting his fists on his hips. “I traveled nearly three hundred miles to see you, and this is the greeting I get?”

DC wasn’t able to respond as Roman’s tired voice appeared behind him. “Dee, wha’s goin’ on?”

“Dee? Oh, that’s a cute nickname!” The man turned to Roman and said, “Hi! I’m his boyfriend.”

That sobered DC up fast. “He’s the one from Maine.” My boyfriend.

“Oh! Holy shit!” Roman’s eyes went wide with realization. 

“Roman, this is...?”

“Remus,” the man supplied.

“Roman, this is Remus.” The name felt like gold on his tongue. “Remus, this is my friend, Roman.” 

Roman held out his hand, which Remus shook. “I can’t believe you made it. How’d you even find us?”

“I secretly embedded a tracker in Dee’s skin before he left!” Roman looked horrified, and Remus cackled at the response. “Just kidding! He told me that you were going to Moncton, and I just asked around about a VW bus for a while until I found you.”

“Right...” It seemed that Roman had become thoroughly uncomfortable by Remus’ sense of humor. “I’m gonna go back to bed.” He paused, making direct eye contact with his friend. “And DC? Don’t be loud or whatever.”

“We won’t,” he assured at the same time that Remus said, “No promises!”

As soon as the door to Roman’s room was shut, DC threw himself into Remus’ arms. “You actually did it.”

“I did,” he said. “I promised.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually make it!” DC cried, feeling hot tears brim in his eyes.

“I didn’t either, Dee. I really didn’t.”

“I love you.”

Remus’ fingers tangled in his hair. “I love you, too.”

And maybe DC cried, but that was okay. He had someone to wipe the tears away, now.

now with a part 2 minific

[suepixels]

14 | I loved and I lost you [🔗]

San My City Memorial Park, 11:05 am

RJ stands in front of his family and his body feels weak, his fingers tremble. He closes his eyes for a second before he starts. He tries to put himself together and focus on the letter in front of him. He hesitates at first because a big lump sticks like glue in his throat, he swallows hard and begins to read slow but with a clear voice.

RJ: I don’t know how to write a eulogy but I simply wrote down some things in a letter to Diosa, which crossed my mind. He tries to avoid to cry but it simply happens.

Dear Diosa,

I don’t know how to express this without breaking down or how to put it in words to describe what I feel and as soon I do? This will break me even more because we cannot turn back time. I’m writing this letter to you because I want to talk to you. I need to tell what kind of soul you have been to me. Even if I still try to refuse that this is now my reality but the fact is you won’t come back to me. This sounds so unbelievable to me but you all three left an enormous gaping hole in my life. Diosa, you gifted me the two most adorable kids, I could ever imagine. You opened your heart and you loved me. We had a quite rocky start and damm you know how hard I tried to keep us together and in the end, you became my wife.  Silence...

RJ stops for a second, he closes his eyes, take a deep breath and a short quick trip down the memory lane of their last kiss, a flashback to their first time together, a flashback to their fights, a flashback to a hot scene on that event where she went under the table to please him and where she talked about pipes (he smiles shortly), a flashback to the moment when their children where born, a flashback to some tender moments they had together and a flashback to their wedding a few weeks ago. Everything happens like in a short movie but at lightning speed. Life is so short but there could have been so much more to tell if she would only be still here he thinks. He continues, his words sound suddenly hoarse, his throat is tightening up.

You had the key to my soul and you took it with you now that you are gone, I do feel so fucking alone. You were my life, the true one. There is no echo of your voice or those of our kids within the rooms where I live and breathe now. It feels like someone ripped out more than half of me and shattered me into a million pieces, I will never feel whole again. This part of me vanished in an instant as soon the news reached me I was in shock, denial, and disbelief.

It’s hard to turn over the next page when I know you all won’t be in the next chapter, but they say life goes on. At least I know our beloved kids are with you. I want to believe you all are at a better place now. Heaven called you too early and stole you away from me like a thief in the night.

You were the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. You had such an infectious zest for life that you could always find the humor or a silver lining of any situation, regardless of the gravity. Anything seemed possible with your attitude.

The way you attacked the obstacles you encountered with such strength and your determination was truly inspirational.

Actually, you can say that we grew up together and to be honest, I had feelings for you before our story began, you felt it I could tell. We had a little fling one time it meant everything to me and one day when I checked on you before you left for Monte Vista our true story has begun. I kissed you, you were so mad at me but you kissed me back again. You told me to leave and yes you bit me, too. I did leave on that day but I told you as well that we aren’t done and we weren’t done. I loved your feisty attitude, you were always straight to the point. We just started to build up a life together but now you are all gone forever. You were the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. You seemed to radiate some kind of magnetic attraction and yes I admit it I was highly attracted to you at first but soon I was madly, deeply in love with you.

I knew there and then already that I would never be able to stay away from you, and that my life would not be complete without you in it. You didn’t make it easy, to love you at first indeed.

But when I look back on the life we’ve shared, it was more than worth it.

Our children used to be the center of your world. You took your role as a mother seriously and did an amazing job of raising them. I wish I’d had more time with you and the kids, I really do. But I will treasure the years I had with you in my heart for the rest of my life as long as I breathe.

Alex and Christina, my beloved kids, how can I put the words on this paper to describe how much I love you both. I was rich because of you. No, money doesn’t make your heart rich but I was gifted with your unconditional love and I felt for the first time in my life truly rich when you both looked into my eyes and gave me your trust and love. I was and I am still proud to be your father. I was your hero Alex and Christina I was your first love, my little princess and you two were the better part of every bit of beating heart that I had, whatever I had. Now that you are gone, I do feel so fuckin’ alone, it’s too much for my soul. As he speaks the words, more tears fall down soundless over his face. I try to fight every day and I wish you all would come back to me wrestle me free, give me back my key to my soul so that I can feel whole again. Just hold me, Diosa because it hurts like hell and I fight an inner war against myself because I know I will always love you until the very end.

I loved, I loved and I lost you, and now? Here still I am, but alone and without you all. They say life goes on... but I’m not ready for that...not yet...

In love forever yours, Daddy & Husband RJ Holmes

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[favouriteentertainer-blog]

Chapter 1 - Never Seen Me Coming

“And what if love is lonely”

“Hmmmmm,” I replied to what Daniel was saying, I hadn’t been listening, but I knew he’d been rambling about something unimportant.

“Are you even listening to me?” He questioned, noticing that I was more enamoured with what was happening outside the cafe, rather than the words falling from his mouth.

I turned away from the window and smiled curtly, “of course I am babe.” I reached over and reassuringly brushed his knuckles with my thumb. I was good at lying, I had been good at lying for almost 3 months.

He smiled back—genuinely. A familiar sense of sadness panged in my chest—I was hurting him, and he didn’t even know it. Was I cheating? No. Was I thinking about cheating? Definitely not. I just wasn’t happy and I wasn’t investing my time in him. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d made me laugh or the last time I’d properly listened to what he’d had to say. We had drifted apart—we wanted different things and neither of us was making any effort to change. But I was the worse of the two parties, at least he was still trying to love me—I was a horrible human being and I wanted so badly to change.

I was too busy focusing on myself and the regret I had for treating him like shit that I didn’t even notice he’d started talking again. “Daniel—"I interrupted him, I decided it was time to finally do the right thing. “I have to break up with you.” My cheeks were flushing red as all the blood in my body rushed to my face. My heart was beating a mile a minute and suddenly the wool sweater I was wearing was the itchiest it had ever been.

“What?” He blinked a few times and I watched regretfully as the colour drained from his face.

The waiter who’d been cleaning the table next to ours winced—Daniel didn’t notice, but I did. I hung my head in shame, he’d probably seen us there at least twice a week.

“I’m sorry,” I spoke the words so quietly they were almost inaudible. “I just don’t love you anymore and I’ve tried but I can’t, I don’t want to live this lie anymore.” I was such a horrendous person I couldn’t even bring myself to cry—but not him, no, he was on the verge of tears.

“You don’t mean that do you?” He reached out for my hand.

“I’m sorry—“ I pulled away with lightning speed, “I do.”

He looked so ashamed of himself—but it wasn’t his fault, it was mine, wholeheartedly mine.

“And what if love is lonely.” He shook his head in disappointment as he recited one of his favourite quotes. “God,” he pushed the seat away from the table, he was still shaking his head “fuck.” He muttered as he fumbled for his coat, “I have to go.”

I didn’t try to stop him I just nodded. “I’m sorry,” I repeated myself, it was all I knew how to say in these kinds of situations.

The waiter who had been ardently polishing the table for way longer than he should have been looked towards me. “Is he going to be okay?” He asked boldly—as if it were his business.

I scoffed, “I don’t think so.”

“You’ve wanted to do that for months.” He said pointedly, “so why didn’t you do it earlier?” Again, he was asking questions he didn’t need the answers to.

“I’m sorry but that’s none of your business,” I retorted—who did he think he was?

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head, “I know it’s none of my business, I’ve just been watching you two for months now. You’re the only couple who ever come in here regularly, it’s hard not to notice the way you’ve changed over time.”

I was struck by his comment, “that’s really fucking weird—“ I squinted to take a look at his name tag “Zayn.”

He smiled, “not as weird as you think—I’m a behavioural science major, it’s kind of my job.”

“Sounds like a fake degree.” I joked it was better than my media communications major.

“Oh yeah? And what do you study then?” He arched an eyebrow.

I bit my lip nervously—I’d shot myself in the foot. “Media communications.”

“Ha!” He cackled, “yeah, my degree is definitely the fake one.” He shot a cheeky wink my way.

I couldn’t help but laugh—I’d just broken up with my boyfriend and I was laughing with the waiter of my on campus coffee shop. I slapped my palm to the middle of my forehead. “I am a horrible human being.” I groaned. “Horrible, horrible, horrible.”

“Look—if you want my opinion, not that it matters. I think you broke up with him mentally a while ago. You’ve already been through all the stages of guilt, you’re not a horrible person for not feeling bad about it. Take your time out now to figure out what you really want from life.”

I blinked in surprise, he’d really made some sense of it all. “Fuck, you really are a behavioural scientist hey?”

“I should fucking hope so. Look if you wanna sit for a bit that’s cool, but when you decide to leave don’t worry about the bill, it’s on me.” He gave me a genuine smile and finally stopped pretending to polish the damn table. “I’ll see you around.”

—

I lay still in my bed, staring up at my bedroom ceiling. The ominous glow from my salt lamp was keeping me awake, but I didn’t have the energy to get up and turn it off. The weight of disappointment was running me dry—I was so damn upset with myself. Not because of what I’d done to Dan the poor soul, but because I’d spent my whole afternoon thinking about the damn barista.

Zayn had made a good point, I had already broken up with Daniel months ago in my mind. Each day I spent with him was out of pity, not love. As bad as it sounded I knew it was true—but I also knew it was wrong to have another guy on my mind so soon after.

I kept trying to tell myself that it was okay—it was perfectly reasonable to find people attractive, but he was just—just not what I needed. I mentally tried to shut out the thought of him, but I couldn’t. His stupid brown eyes and unnecessarily sharp jaw line kept popping up without notice.

I picked up a pillow from beside me and shoved it into my face, letting out a little scream in the process—why was I like this?!

I made a mental note to try and avoid the cafe. I needed to make sure that I drummed it out of my head, even if that meant walking a few hundred metres extra to get some coffee.

My phone chirped from beside me, I reached down to get it from my bedroom floor. I hadn’t gotten round to procuring some bedside tables so there was an extension cord running from one corner of my room to the bed so that I could charge my phone.

“Aj: Come and watch a movie with me I am bored.”

I sighed and rolled over. It was only 10pm and there was no way I was going to sleep before 3am—not to mention I really needed a distraction. I also hadn’t told AJ about my break up with Dan yet, so I was going to have to do that and the odds of him having made food were high. I was damn hungry, I’d been too upset with myself to bother doing anything when I got back home—so I did what I do best and I just lay in my bed.

My best friend was lovely, but what he lacked was empathy. I could tell him that my granny died and he’d just nod and say “gosh why do people have to die?” and then start telling me about his last male conquest—it was indeed something. He did, however, have the talent of being honest with you no matter how sorry you were feeling for yourself, so I knew I had to see him.

I didn’t bother to change, he was only two flights of stairs away and security had seen me at my ugliest, so I was fine. I shoved on a pair of slides and grabbed my house key before trudging out the door.

-

“You look like shit,” AJ spoke bluntly as he opened the door—he was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, a yellow t-shirt and a blue robe.

“Fuck you.” I pushed past him and made my way towards his room. “Your apartment smells like crap—“ I gagged, it honestly smelt like someone had died.

“Yeahhhhh—“ he sighed heavily, “I was only gone for the weekend and someone left raw chicken in the bin and now Andrea is refusing to take them out because she’s a vegetarian.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, “so I guess you’ll have to take them out then?” He was always pulling the weight for his flat and that’s why they took advantage.

“Like always,” he rolled his eyes, “everyone in this damn apartment is useless.” He ushered me into his room and away from the putrid smell.

“You give them the upper hand” I shrugged, “it’s your own fault.” I shut his room door behind me before plopping myself down on the edge of his bed.

“Sooooo.” I waited for him to sit down at his desk.

“Mmmm?” He hummed in curiosity as he opened his laptop and loaded up Netflix.

“I broke up with Dan,” I spoke so fast it sounded like I had verbal diarrhoea.

“Wait—“ he snapped his laptop closed, “you finally broke up with that boring piece of crap and what it only took you TWO years?” His mouth hung open as he stared at me intently waiting for the gossip.

“Stop!” He didn’t deserve AJ trash talking him, especially because he did nothing wrong. “He didn’t do anything bad, I just fell out of love.”

“What is love?” He raised an eyebrow in question. “We’re only 21, I doubt we know what it means yet.” He grabbed his water bottle to take a sip.

He was right, I don’t think I was ever entirely in love with Dan. If I were I imagine it would’ve felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest right now.

“I dunno, I just feel bad—like I can’t fault him. I broke up with him in the damn coffee shop.” I decided to omit the whole bonding with Zayn part afterwards, he’d make a big deal out of it.

“You can’t but I definitely can. The guy was boring, he always told you off for wanting to go out and have fun, he never joined in and he ALWAYS stared at other girls’ asses.” He slammed his water bottle down dramatically.

“Well—“ I looked down at my sad excuse for a bum, “I don’t blame him!”

“Oh my God!” AJ rolled his eyes, “he was gross, you are much better off now.”

“Bleeeeeh,” I let myself fall back onto his bed. “I’m not even sad, I should be sad.” I still couldn’t get over how emotionally drained I was.

“Can we stop talking about this—“ he silenced me, “there is no need to be sad and I want to watch my movie, so can we get on with it?” There it was, his lack of empathy and brutal honesty, rolled into one.

I waved my hand in the air, motioning for him to proceed. “Do you have any food?” I asked meekly, my poor soul was in need some of some charity.

“Yeah I made chicken curry and rice, you need to heat it up yourself tho.” He loaded up The Avengers and I literally rolled off his bed.

“God bless you.” I patted him on the head, “you are a golden child.”

He smacked my hand away, “by the way.” He stopped me before I could go into the kitchen. “My cousin is coming to stay this week, his girlfriend kicked him out two weeks ago and he hasn’t found a place to stay.”

“Shame, but what do I have to do with this?” I asked curiously. Too bad for the guy, I guess it was the season of breakups.

“Well number one, you can’t sleep here this week, and two we’re going out for dinner on Wednesday.” I was sad about the sleeping part. Whenever Dan wasn’t staying over at mine, I’d take refuge on AJ’s blow up mattress in the corner of his room so that I wouldn’t feel lonely. I had very bad anxiety when it came to being alone. I always needed to be with someone, but I was trying my best to work on it. I think that’s why I stayed with Dan for so long, because I was afraid of being alone.

“Yeah whatever, just tell me when to meet you.”

—

“Oh God—“ I spoke with my mouth full as I stared down at the caller ID on my phone.

“What?” AJ paused the movie and stared at me.

“Look who it is!” I swallowed the barely chewed food and motioned for him to look at the phone that was vibrating against my thigh.

“Ugh.” He shot me a look of disgust as Dan’s name flashed across the screen. “I always told you, you weren’t suited to him.”

“Why?” I rolled my eyes, he just couldn’t understand that it was me, not Dan that was the issue.

“Because he is an overly sensitive white boy who likes to silence you when you explain your culture to him, he wouldn’t even try seeing things from your perspective.” He aggressively unwrapped a mini milka and shoved it in his mouth.

“Okay so I tried explaining cultural appropriation to him once and he didn’t get it what’s the big deal?” My phone was still ringing.

“I think that in itself says a lot. Let alone him playing the ‘I’m not racist, my girlfriend is Indian’ card, fuck that.”

“Okay,” I admitted, “that was wrong, but he wasn’t racist—he was just ignorant.” Saying that out loud made me realise how wrong I was. “Oh—“ I paused “I see what you mean! But I honestly don’t think he ever meant harm.” I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but there were definitely times where he said things and I had to pause for a second and think “wow, what should I say?” Like when he said refugees were lying about why they wanted to enter the UK and that’s why we needed to leave the EU—I almost had an aneurysm explaining that situation to him. Or whenever he would tell me that he loved that he was dating me because I didn’t look Indian, I looked “exotic.” At the time it didn’t seem weird but reflecting on it made me really uncomfortable.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You had to fall out of ‘love’ for a reason.”

The phone stopped ringing.

[lightsandlostbells]

Skam NL episodes 4 and 5 reaction

This is incredibly late but there was no way I was not going to write about Engel’s detour into waxing hell.

Episode 4

Clip 1 - Piesiepoepselaar

Isa and Kes are lying together in the morning and it’s very serene. He’s had the same nightmare as Jonas did in the original, though I think the context is different … russ is like a thing that Jonas objects to on principle, would Kes be against just taking a city trip?

He’s like, “You took off your shirt and made out with everyone, boys and girls.” Lmao, I don’t think Isa is going to get that wild in Tallinn.

Isa replies that she’ll only take off her shirt for Kes. So this isn’t really a hint of an actual problem or any condescension on his part, they’ve re-purposed this exchange into some purely flirty interaction.

This cute moment is interrupted by Isa’s mom unexpectedly popping in. She calls her daughter “pissing pooper”? Hands down the best/worst nickname I have heard a parent call their child. And of course Kes loves it.

Clip 2 - Orgy preparation

Isa gets a call from “Pap” soooo her dad is still kind of in the picture?

Engel bounds up to Isa, she looks very happy to see her. And when Janna and Imaan come up, she also looks happy to see them. Engel is so cute.

Except LMAO, GOD. She addresses Imaan with “Salaam-Alaikum,” and seems a little proud of herself, as if she Googled “how to speak Muslim” over the weekend. So I guess instead of being an outright exclusionary racist, she’s going to be like … a well-intentioned white ally who goes too far and ends up othering her Muslim friend by not treating her the same as the non-Muslims? That’s a pretty interesting take. It certainly puts Engel in a better light than Vilde, since she is trying to be inclusive rather than rejecting Imaan, but it also explores Imaan’s struggle with having to deal with people treating her differently than her peers, or changing their behavior toward her since she’s a Muslim.

Imaan is just like “.... Hi.” I feel like at some point she’s going be like, “Look, you can just treat me like you’d treat anyone else.”

Janna starts coughing, and at first I thought she was trying to salvage the awkward moment, but she’s actually gesturing for Engel to look over yonder because GUESS WHAT, a certain dude is climbing the stairs.

Dutch William has a very long coat and seems more like an artsy edgy hipster kid, maybe, than a regular king-of-the-school fuckboy. His head is down so we don’t get a full view of his face, it’s like he’s ~mysterious and gives no fucks.

That blond dude from the party, Gijs, is part of Dutch William’s (Noah’s) crew, of course, and nods in recognition to Isa. They’re like, HOLY SHIT, Isa, what happened there?

Apparently one of them (Gijs or Noah) the wildest parties, with orgies. And not some weak-ass orgies where people sit in the hot tub together. Full-on power orgies with naked bodies. Janna sure knows her orgy classifications.

Engel’s facial expressions when Janna mentions orgies, lmao. This little frown.

The girls are like, “There’s a party this Friday,” and Isa’s like “...OK?” Imaan has to explain that Janna and Engel want Isa to flirt with the guy so they can get in to the party. She takes Isa’s phone and does her thing. Well, that’s interesting because Imaan doesn’t seem so invested personally in going to the party? I mean, there’s no real benefit to their city trip. Is she doing it because Janna and Engel want to? Like she wants to be in with these girls and have friends?

Janna is amused and laughs at Imaan’s liking all of Gijs’ pics. Engel just seems stunned. A Muslim did that???? Maybe she had Imaan all wrong. Maybe she needs to consult Google again.

Clip 3 - BUY YOUR OWN GODDAMN FRIES

Isa, Kes, and Lucas go out for food. Isa is the only one to order fries, and when she asks if they want fries, they’re like nahhhh. IMMEDIATELY my bullshit detector went off. They’re going to steal her fucking fries, aren’t they?

At one point the word “EVEN” is visible through the window, heh.

Lucas has injured his left hand, which I am assuming is a thing the actor did IRL and they had to explain it into the story. Kes roasts Lucas about his injury (which happened while skateboarding) and Lucas is like, “At least I take risks.” Yeah, some of those risks will apparently involve fucking up your friends’ relationship?

Kes asks Isa if they’re going to hang out at her place, I am assuming just the two of them, while Lucas gives Kes a long look. Actually, those are some high-quality Looks that Lucas has been serving to Kes. Make sure this show gets to season 3, okay? So he can put his pining face to good use.

Kes says the whole thing about Isa’s mom not knowing about him, and that Isa is ashamed of him, and Lucas is like, well, she’s right!

But of course Gijs is now sending her messages about Isa’s IG stalking. Just as Kes is offering to cook for her and her mom. Isa, let him cook for you! That’s more proactive than any Jonas has offered yet, right?

Gijs is turned on by Isa stalking him. You know, I’ve never just how many kinks the P-Chrises have, like he’s into nerds, being stalked, pretending to be the Eva’s dad/mom/whatever ... he’s just up for anything.

Lucas mentions that Isa has too many new friends, maybe even a new boyfriend, and THAT is some snake-ass shit, planting that seed out there. Even if he’s just talking shit and kidding. He doesn’t know he’ll be kinda right, but man, will Kes remember that when shit hits the fan? Kes seemed so indifferent though, like he’s all “lady friends” and not taking it seriously. 

I WAS FUCKING RIGHT, THEY STEAL HER GODDAMN FRIES. Taking advantage of her distraction while messaging Gijs. 

This is the realest shit though, like nothing Jonas and Isak said about Eva’s involvement in russ compared to this disrespect. Teenage boys are the WORST.

But yeah, there’s not nearly as much putting down of Isa’s friends or activities (since who is gonna be like “it’s so CAPITALISTIC that you want to take a fun trip to a city”?) apart from some passive-aggressiveness about Kes not meeting Isa’s mom and Isa being too popular. Still, it feels less mean, and Isa didn’t seem as attacked. 

Clip 4 - The most important conversation I’ve ever heard

The title of this clip was “full bush baby” and I was like … is that really going to refer to what I think it is? Like either we are talking about a small primate, or someone’s private hedge maze.

I love Janna looking like a hot mess in every scene. Like she literally rolled out of her bed, which is an ostrich nest, and went to school. She’s telling a story about opening a beer in class while Engel looks bothered about something in the background.

OH MY GOD, Engel looks troubled not because of any angsty Noah pining or Imaan drama or any of what you’d expect, but because she shaved her pubic hair and it itches. WE STAN.

…. Is this taking the place of the birth control conversation??? Instead of Engel asking about birth control, she wants the girls to tell her how they remove their pubic hair? 

I am not remotely surprised that Janna is a full bush baby.

Imaan saying she dyes hers red, white, and blue = MY LOVE.

Engel takes that completely seriously judging by her confused little face. Engel’s life is 90% confusion.

Janna says if she waxes, she can wax a lightning bolt. Please be a Harry Potter reference. (You know, I’m sure wizards have hair removal spells and all, but I’m imagining someone being like ACCIO PUBES and ripping out everything at once.)

Engel is nervous about waxing. Oh my God, instead of the nurse, are they going to go for a bikini wax together?????

Isa gets a text. Turns out they’re going to the party! Engel gets excited and starts throwing out outfit possibilities.S he rambles a bit and then Imaan does the “shhh, you talk too much” moment. 

Now it feels a little out of place, because Engel, while not behaving perfectly, has been way less of an ass to Imaan? And I get that this is for Engel’s own preservation, sort of, but they’re not trying to gain social capital at the level that Vilde and Sana were. The OG girl squad wanted to attract cool people to their bus and hook up with popular boys; NL girl squad isn’t concerned with getting cool people on their trip, and while they want to go to parties, they don’t have this firm objective of hooking up with the popular dudes. So the moment seemed a bit out of nowhere. I mean, Engel rambling about her outfits is tedious, but harmless.

Imaan has some gorgeous lashes, by the way.

Clip 5 - This is a very serious show

Oh my God, they DID go for a bikini wax. So is the state of Engel’s pubic hair going to be a plot point? Does she want it to look groomed for him? 

Okay, I’m laughing that Norwegian-style bush is a heart (ALT ER LOVE), French pubes are a mustache, and Dutch hedges are … flames? A flower? A flower for the ladygarden.

THE GRAVE IMPORTANCE OF THIS SCENE. The music and the cherub mural really add to the atmosphere.

Janna talks about an ass wax because of course she does.

I love that you hear a scream from the other room. Perfect.

I laughed out loud that Engel just shakes her head and runs. And that Imaan puts her arms around the girls and eggs them on.

I like Skam to have a plot and all but I would thoroughly enjoy 10 episodes of just random calamities in pubic hair removal.

Clip 6 - Orgy time

OH DAMN, I LOVE

This is my favorite episode 4 (or equivalent) power walk other than the original. I LOVE it. The song choice! The girls look like they’re having a blast. Engel jumping on Liv’s back!!! Imaan yelling in sync with the rooster crying!!! 

ESPECIALLY with the juxtaposition of this badass power walk, the girls getting hyped and feeling cool on the way to the party - because yeahhhh!!!! Young and free, bitches!!!!! - with the pause where they’re actually standing in front of the door, debating over who has to ring the bell. That’s utterly beautiful, I love it. Expectations vs. reality right there. 

Liv being like “It’s open,” lol.

Engel knows Olivia and company, I don’t think they said how?? Because we knew how Vilde knew Ingrid. But I mean, they go to school together, soooo. (Or did Engel get kicked off a city trip group?)

Janna, you promised an orgy, and this is a bunch of teenagers drinking and dancing in a basement. The clothes are most definitely on.

I was spoiled for Janna’s making out with a girl, but I still got hella excited when she and this girl were sticking out their tongues at each other.

Lmao, is Engel rambling about her car malfunctions to Noah? Maybe Imaan was right to shush her.

Also, Engel’s dad is in the picture. Or was, at a certain point.

Okay I don’t know if maybe this is fashionable for Dutch kids, but I love that Noah is wearing this baggy old man shirt. 

And that his kiss with Engel is a little awkward.

Who is this kid. Why is he like this.

Lmao, Liv telling Isa to talk to Gijs about Tallinn so he’ll leave. Does not bode well for their city trip if that’s what she thinks?

WHOOPS, Isa forgot that dinner with Kes was supposed to happen.

Gijs does not know Tallinn is a city, so he’s like, “Who’s Tallinn?” lmao.

JANNA AND THAT GIRL GOING TO TOWN, YESSSSSSSS

So in terms of Skam remake wlw content, I believe we have:

Skam France: Alexia is bi. Of course I appreciate this but they haven’t really spotlighted it outside of like one or two comments, and they don’t really integrate her sexuality into the story or into the dialogue even when it would be relevant (which is a big problem with Skam France as a whole). It’s canon by the actress’ Word of God.

Druck: Mia is bi. In canon she “doesn’t like labels” and is shown to make out with Hanna, though that was for telling off Alexander. Bi by word of God.

Skam Austin: Shay takes Isak’s place in the story, having a crush on Megan which is her character’s motivation. This is the biggest wlw content, clearly, since Shay will hopefully get her own season. The character is a lesbian and her sexuality plays a role in the story, plus I’m pretty sure the actress is a lesbian herself (and is a black lesbian so we have intersectional diversity).

Skam NL: Janna makes out with a girl at a party. HOPEFULLY she isn’t straight and this isn’t just a drunken makeout because girls kissing at a party is hot. I hooooope.

Hmmm, you know what? I actually buy Imaan’s throwing water at Olivia a lot more, because Engel has at least tried to be nice to Imaan. Like I understand that Sana is fiercely loyal and once she’s on your team, she’s with you 110%, so once she’s with the girl squad, she’s ride or die. But assuming Imaan was throwing water at Olivia because Olivia called Engel a slut, I get why. Engel has been awkward and othered Imaan but she’s tried to be nice. (But for Engel, you know she’s going to be like WTF?)

I love this closing song as they run away into the night!

Is it wrong that I kind of like Noah so far? Because I get that he’s likely going to come with all of William’s bullshit, but ... he’s fucking weird, man. 

Episode 5

Clip 1 - Making a family party awkward

Kes’ sister is a cutie!

Oh, I love that we got a little glimpse of his family? His mom, and his grandparents.

This really changes the tone of this scene from the original, because Eva goes over and encounters Jonas when he’s just hanging out with his friends and being passive-aggressive, and it felt like having the boys there made Jonas ramp up his attitude. Kes appears to be relaxed, he’s having a good time with his family. I wonder if these are the actor’s real relatives? The boys look like they could be his brothers.

But Kes does get in a passive-aggressive comment about her friends, and he’s been ignoring her for a few days.

Also, Lucas isn’t part of this moment where they’re ganging up on Isa, when the Isak is typically snickering at what’s happening.

We cut inside where relatives are having a pleasant time while the Youths fight. We don’t hear their argument but I mean, we know what they’re talking about.

Kes is like, “I forgot about the dinner,” as if he’s not upset, which makes Isa storm out, and his family notices that she’s upset.

Isa is out on the street and she once again puts in her earbuds and listens to music to get out her feelings. I like that as a stress release/coping tactic/whatever you want to call it for her.

This is a Sigrid song, by the way! “Strangers,” a totally appropriate song for relationship dysfunction and dismantling the perfect movie romance. Really interesting with Isa’s somewhat romanticized view of love - sometimes you just know, that’s how it’s supposed to be, etc.

Is Kes going to run out after her?

Nope, he doesn’t run after her. Not like in the movies. Isa just does a walk down the street. She’s not happy but it seems like listening to music steadies her a bit and gives her an outlet for her emotions so that she’s not a total mess.

Clip 2 - Engel does not know how the pill works, sigh

The title of this clip was Het is Zover and there was a still of Liv so I was like … are we finally headed down this f/f romcom route? Het is Over? (I know, I know, it has an actual meaning in Dutch.) But it ended up referring to something heterosexual, lmao.

I like Isa’s little toucan key chain.

Isa is not in a good mood, Liv looks fondly at her girl and asks about Kes. Liv knows what’s up with 17-year-old boys.

Engel pops up and says it’s time for her and Noah to go to the bone zone. Isa is like, that was fast. So I guess they are going down this sex storyline; the wax was a fun bonus.

Engel being like “I know It’s Time because I DMed with Noah all weekend and he’s perfect” - God help us.

Engel asks for the pill like she’s asking for ibuprofen, and when she says eh, it’ll be nothing then, Liv is like nuh uh, you’re going to the doctor. Thank you, Liv.

Engel gets them to agree to go by offering a bottle of wine each. When Isa tells Liv that she (Liv) doesn’t even drink, Liv is like, two for you, right? WHOOOOOOA. True love right there.

I had the worst thought and wondered if Engel’s failure to get her pubes waxed is going to lead to Noah making a shit comment about them later, like when Engel confronts him. Because teenage boys think girls should be completely hairless, like porn stars or babies! 

Clip 3 - Isa can’t sleep

Isa is watching a video on her phone when she gets a notification about something her dad posted. It’s a little kid getting a swimming certificate, so I’m guessing that’s her dad’s new family.

Isa gets up to go sit on her mom’s bed. She asks for a foot rub, which her mom gives her, until her mom starts asking about Olivia and Tess. Then the feet come back up to Isa’s chest.

Her mom’s like, I’m just trying to show interest. Isa is probably thinking that’s more than her dad does. She extends a leg again.

Perhaps that’s why Isa opens up to her and tells her she has a boyfriend. When she tells her mom his name is Kes, her mom doesn’t comment on it being Olivia’s boyfriend’s name or anything, so maybe she didn’t know Kes and Olivia dated? 

Isa asks her mom whether she thought she and her dad would be together forever, and then when she change her mind. Isa’s mom says that sometimes things go differently from how you expected. I really like this scene. It goes in with Isa “just knowing” that you’re meant to be with someone, as mentioned in episode 2, and then this reality that crashes in on you. It’s awesome that they tied in these elements of Isa’s absent father and divorced/separated parents, Isa’s relationship with her mom who’s locked out of certain elements in her life, and Isa’s relationship with Kes to the overall idea of being with someone forever. I think Isa questioning the nature and longevity of love could end up being a really satisfying part of her arc. I can’t wait to see the final clip of the season; I hope they modify her speech to Kes so that it fits with all these moments and what she’s learned.

She gets back into bed and apologizes to Kes for being a bitch sometimes, because obviously she doesn’t want their relationship to end, and then stares at the ceiling with that one damn glow in the dark shooting star.

Clip 4 - Doctor visit

The girls go to the doctor with Engel. Liv and Imaan entertain themselves by playing with a model of a torso. Kes and Isa make up via text, he says he loves her even when she’s angry.

I love that Engel looks small in that big chair against the giant window, truly mimicking how overwhelmed she must be feeling.

Where’s Janna? I have to say that I look forward to her reactions on anything vagina-related. 

I guess she had to miss the fun because she had to make up for being late to German, but it’s really cool how Imaan volunteered to join them considering I think the Sanas usually sit this excursion out.

The doctor comes out and IT’S A MAN THIS TIME??? Oh fuck!

I mean I know plenty of women don’t have a problem with a male OB-GYN, but for a girl who’s perhaps afraid to get a bikini wax, I think she would be a little shy about talking about birth control with a dude.

This doc is handsome, not gonna lie. I can’t imagine if that would make it more or less awkward. I do think that it’s less awkward with your friends, so good call, Engel.

The doc is asking Engel some basic questions and Engel answers more confidently than I expected, so good for her. Imaan rats out Engel by saying she’s only known the guy for a week. Well, maybe it’s not the wisest choice, Imaan, but that means Engel should definitely be on birth control!

Liv also shares that Noah sleeps with the whole school, and the doc mentions that the pill only helps with pregnancy, not STDs. Bless him. I mean he’s just doing his job, but bless. This is a good message to include on the show.

OH MY GOD when that doc brought out the dildo for the condom demonstration. He was completely matter-of-fact and professional but geeeeez I would have found this to be the most embarrassing thing at 16.

Clip 5 - CONDOMS, ENGEL, CONDOMS CONDOMS CONDOMS

The girls evaluate condom choices. Strawberry, banana, glow-in-the-dark. Don’t get the banana ones. I love real bananas but artificial banana flavor on anything is a gamble. 

I can’t tell, who said that king-sized wasn’t for Noah? Janna? I want to give her an award.

This clip was so short but I loved it! Just sweet and funny, wonderful girl squad dynamic, adorable.

As an aside, please watch the first 30 seconds of this scene and imagine it with Engel as Rose, Janna as Blanche, and Imaan as Dorothy.

Clip 6 - Engel’s softcore fashion fantasy

Janna has the right idea by blowing up a condom into an elephant trunk.

Janna doesn’t remember anything from her first time. That bit never stops being alarming, tbh.

Janna is also adamant that Noah needs to do his best and make sure Engel has an orgasm. Good job, Janna! That’s something I’ve always wondered with the Williams of the show: do they actually try to make the experience pleasurable for the Vildes? Because Vilde is like, “It was great!” but she’s also speaking from inexperience, and she might just be overcompensating, who knows? I mean, I don’t think she would actually tell the girls if it sucked.

Engel doesn’t know what an orgasm feels like, she doesn’t know how to get wet, she doesn’t want to get horny. Look, everyone should learn at their own pace, but my professional opinion is that this poor girl should take some time on her own before sleeping with a random dude she has known for a week. 

Who hasn’t even arrived on time to get laid. Oh God, please just blow her off completely? Don’t make us and Engel go through this again. Lesser of two evils.

Janna eats a banana. I just wanted to write that.

Liv is there to administer horny-making fantasies to Engel. Lmao, Isa had to get up off her chair and go sit on the bed next to Liv while Liv is talking dirty. I wonder why….

Ohhhh my God. This fantasy of Engel’s? WOW. It is really not “allowed” within the Skam format but honestly, fuck it, this is too weird not to appreciate. This is some ’90s music video realness, I expected 98 Degrees to walk out. Except it mostly focuses on Engel’s attire and makeup and hair, so maybe it’s more like a perfume ad?

Lmao, Engel getting turned on by herself more than Noah really stands out when you see the visual.

Janna tells the anecdote about getting turned on by donkeys, but it was supposedly just a whole other village that had the donkey kink rather than her. Bless her.

The girls need to get out because Kes is supposed to arrive, but of course, when Isa opens the front door, it’s Noah, come for his booty call. Isa’s mom is really cute in how she’s excited to see “Kes.”

Engel is? “Not my girlfriend.” Noah, you dumb fuck. Why do you need to clarify that shit to someone’s mom who you’re only going to know for like two seconds?

I mean, it’s foreshadowing as to Noah’s fuckboy ways, and that Engel will get her heart broken, but duuuuude quell your ass down.

Isa is like, nah mom, those girls tripping on the stairs and babbling weren’t drunk! Lol, sure.

When Isa calls Kes, it absolutely sounds like he was at a party with the level of background chatter. You hear Olivia’s voice clearly but they’re definitely surrounded by people.

Of course Kes is not coming, and Isa’s mom overhears enough on the phone conversation to realize. She tells her that they can eat, just the two of them. I really like Isa’s mom, she’s cute.

Great sad closing song.

General Comments/Social Media

Engel stuck Liv’s own song on their Tallinn playlist and Liv’s like, time to delete that! 

I love Janna naming the group chat weird stuff, and everyone acknowledging that group chat names are never normal.

This remake makes my heart so warm! The girl squad is so lovely and fun. I adored the pubic hair side plot, lmao, and the twists on the doctor visit and the condom retrieval. Little moments like that with the girls have made the dynamic so entertaining.

As for the boys, I think Lucas is a fantastic Isak. Kes has his typical Jonas S1 dickhead moments, but he’s also got charm, and God help me but I am enjoying Noah’s whatever-the-fuck-ness. Like I’m aware he’s going to be a creep, but currently I like taking the piss out of him and his wardrobe and attitude. 

As I mentioned previously, I think they’re doing some great moments with Isa’s character arc and tying in her family issues to her relationship issues, and having her talk about love or question love in the abstract. 

I am not Dutch, so feel free to correct me if I missed anything.

If you got this far, thank you for reading!

[ikesenhell]

The Difference

You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here.

They’d all known each other for so long that they stopped being anything other than friends, a casual reminder of the differences that wedged between them a meaningless thing. In a lot of ways, the seven of them were so close that they might as well have operated as one person. Nobunaga was the head, Hideyoshi and Masamune the arms, Mitsuhide the mouth, and he and Mitsunari the legs to support the whole thing (loathe though he was to lump himself into the same group as Mitsunari).

But she--she was the heart of it, the conscience of them, and just as often the lines that delineated her from the rest of them blurred and folded. 

Ieyasu remembered she was a girl at some point in high school. 

“Got asked to homecoming.” She shunted her backpack onto the table at lunch, rolling her eyes.

“No shit?” Masamune laughed at her. “Who the hell did that?”

“Take three guesses.”

“Let’s see.” Mitsuhide rolled his chopsticks between his fingers, a slithering grin that had long ago become his trademark creeping in over his lips. 

“No fair if you guess first,” Nobunaga cut in imperiously. “As you’re nigh on psychic.”

Hideyoshi narrowed his eyes, ever the overprotective mom friend. “Was it Shingen? It wasn’t Shingen, was it?”

“Ding ding ding.” She tapped her nose and the table burst into laughter (except for Hideyoshi, who looked utterly annoyed at the idea of someone asking out his friend, and Mitsunari, who couldn’t quite understand why exactly it was so funny). “Guess what he hit me with?”

“Let me try.” Masamune crawled on his knees around the table, generating a spatter of laughter from the surrounding benches, and clutched her hands. “My angel, did it hurt? When you fell from heaven?”

“Jesus Christ, Masa, that was almost worse.”

Ieyasu scrunched up his nose and appraised her. “Why the hell would he ask you?”

“Ass.” She shoved his bright yellow backpack off the table. “I’m not chopped liver, you know.”

“He coulda asked a real girl.”

She fixed him with eyes that could call down a lightning strike, and suddenly the conversation wasn’t so funny. “I am a real girl.”

“Ieyasu.” Masamune’s tone brooked no replies. “Maybe shut up.”

That didn’t placate her mood. Soured, she swung her bag onto her back and stalked off.

She wound up going to homecoming with Mitsunari. He sorted through the photos on social media, he and her smiling at each other and exchanging little boutonnieres, and imagined feeding each of them into a shredder.

Senior year, and they shared the same English class. She sat right in front of him.

It wasn’t so bad. He would never admit it out loud, but it was nice having someone to partner up with that he could rely on. Whenever Thursday Discussions started and they were told to pair up, they’d shunt their desks together and work as much as roast the book. This time, it was Wuthering Heights.

“This is a shit book.” He started sourly.

“I mean, yeah, fuck Heathcliffe and all that.” Her face had taken on a womanly shape almost overnight. Sometimes, Ieyasu would look at her in her hoodies and loose shirts and wonder where the hell the nine year old he used to know had gone, swallowed up instead with that long neck and those long legs. He liked looking at her--a lot--and couldn’t reconcile to himself what that meant. “But, like, you know what I do like about this?”

“Mm.”

She knew him well enough to discern a ‘continue, please’ mmm from a ‘I don’t care’ mmm, so she continued. “Letter writing.”

Ieyasu huffed. “You’re not serious. We do have phones, you know.”

“No shit. But, I dunno, I like the effort of it? It’s thoughtful. I think the way this book is written reminds me of how letters used to be written, and--look. I don’t know. I just like it, is all. Nothing really to explain about that.”

He appraised her with his clear eyes, parsing the thought through his mind, and all at once a strange urge to write her a letter overtook him. 

“You’re a fool.” Ieyasu grumbled, squashing his unspoken, unexamined feelings down. “Let’s talk about something actually relevant.”

That night he sat in front of his computer and penned letter after letter to her in his notebook, ripping them out after barely a paragraph and tossing them in his wastebasket. After about fifteen tries, he gave up and crawled into bed.

She went to prom with Nobunaga. Somehow, that made sense. Their pictures were perfect, he wearing an impeccable suit and she in a red, vibrant dress that did wonders for every curve he’d never known she had. They spent the afterparty at Hideyoshi’s house, splashing in the pool under the moonlight and taking drinks, and Ieyasu soon discovered there wasn’t enough alcohol in the world to squelch the weird things his stomach did at seeing her in a bikini.

They all wound up at the same university. It made sense. Nobunaga, Hideyoshi, and Mitsuhide were all headed into business. Masamune didn’t bother with college, but he was just down the street doing a culinary internship, so he may as well have. Mitsunari was in poli-sci, heading into law, and he--well, he aimed for a chemistry degree and desperately hoped to prove himself as a medical student. He wasn’t as (frustratingly) gifted as Mitsunari, nor did he have Masamune’s charm or Mitsuhide’s silver tongue, Hideyoshi’s affability or Nobunaga’s charisma. He was just him, and that ate at him.

As for her, she went into finance, often taking the same classes as the others in business. They were all older now, and a little wiser, and Ieyasu wasn’t blind to the attention she attracted. What was it about her? Everywhere she went, that beautiful smile turned heads, her wit drawing laughter, her presence drawing adoration. Ieyasu was no fool. He could see the way she bent Nobunaga and Masamune in toward her with her presence alone, whether she realized it or not.

They suited her, he thought miserably. They were both on their way to realizing their ambitions, and here he was, only at the start of a stupid, stupid road that he might not even reach the end of.

Hideyoshi took her out for sushi one night, the pictures surfacing on Instagram. Ieyasu scrolled through them, trying to parse if it was a date or a date, eventually giving up. Trying one more time, Ieyasu took pen to paper and struggled to write something to her, shredding the drafts from his notepad with reckless abandon until he realized it was no use and gave up.

Years passed.

He got accepted to medical school, and she was the first apartment he ran to, letter in hand, everything completely forgotten in his rush. She emerged wide eyed in the doorway, inspecting his flushed, panting expression.

“Yasu? What’s wrong?”

“I got in.” He thrust the letter from John Hopkins at her, barely getting the words out. “I got in.”

“Holy shit!” She flung her arms around his shoulders, laughing and smiling. He wasn’t much for hugs, but oh god, Ieyasu crushed her body against his, delirious with relief and joy swirling together. “Ieyasu, that’s so good! That’s so, so good! I knew you could do it!”

He shut his eyes and dropped his forehead into the crook of her neck, inhaling her familiar scent. For the first time, his mind sang lines of poetry to write to her, but by the time he’d gotten home, he’d forgotten them all. The notebook remained empty.

Medical school was cripplingly lonely.

Almost no one moved up to Baltimore with him; they remained largely intact, and he, apart and alone, soldiered on.

Some days when it was hard, he would scroll through her Instagram and watch the myriad curated details of her life play out in front of him, her lovely face on display for all to enjoy. Ieyasu would have hated it were it not for the fact that he could enjoy, too. He didn’t know how else to ask to see her face. She was seeing someone now, some guy he didn’t know the name of and didn’t care to find out. How long had it been? Two years? Three? Four, he realized with intense irritation, and turned off his phone.

He got a call from her not long after.

“Hey, stranger.” She sounded like a song that he desperately wanted on repeat. “How goes medical school?”

“Busy.” He huffed. 

“Yeah? Too busy for me to drop by?”

He considered that. “I might be able to make time. No promises. Maybe.”

“Gee, I can’t wait.” But her voice made his heart rise into his throat. 

She was more beautiful than her pictures ever let on, and he hated and loved it in equal measure. 

They went out to a restaurant he liked nearby (though he pitched her with the ringing recommendation of, “it isn’t completely terrible” and she laughed at him) and walked around the park, talking about life and the weirdness of it. Ieyasu wasn’t used to being open with anyone, but medical school had ground him down and--

Well, he needed someone to lean on.

So they laid down in the grass and talked about her upcoming birthday, and as a tease, she turned her head and asked him, “So what are you gonna get me, hmm?”

Ieyasu ducked her gaze, feeling entirely too vulnerable under it. “I dunno. Something you need. Like some brains.”

“You can’t get me with that one.” She tittered. “You use that one on Mitsunari too much.”

God, he was more worn out than he thought he was. He rolled over onto his arm and looked at her, as serious as the grave, and said. “The sky.”

Her brow cocked. “The sky?”

“The whole thing.” He motioned above him. “I’d take it and bring the whole thing down. For you. Because--” Oh, his mouth was dry, and she was staring at him, eyes wide, and he finished in a mutter, “because you deserve it.”

“Ieyasu,” she whispered, so sweet he couldn’t stand it. 

“Come on.” He cut her off and jumped to his feet. “I hate it out here. It’s too hot.”

“It’s like, sixty degrees!”

“Too hot.”

She and the boyfriend broke up two months later, and no one heard from her for a while. 

“Why the hell do you think I know what’s going on?” Ieyasu snapped at Mitsuhide over the phone. “I don’t know where she is.”

“Odd. She tells you everything first.”

He scoffed. “That’s a lie.”

“Is it?” Mitsuhide’s slithery voice was so, so infuriating in its smug assurance. “It’s been that way for years.”

Ieyasu opened his mouth to dispute the claim and faltered when he had no evidence. Shit. More than that, Mitsuhide was right.

What had he been missing?

“I gotta call you back.” Ieyasu hung up without warning and headed to his car.

The drive took nearly three hours, but she hadn’t moved in years, so Ieyasu was confident when he rolled up to her house. He parked in the driveway behind her car and stalked up to the front door, realized halfway there that he hadn’t taken off his white jacket, headed back and tossed it unceremoniously in the passenger seat, and walked the path again. She’d opened the door before he even rang the bell.

“Ieyasu?” She stared at him. “Wh--”

“So...” He trailed off and delved his hand into his pocket, thrusting the tiny slip of folded paper out at her. “Take it.”

“What’s this?”

“Take it,” he hissed, his ears flaming. “You told me years ago that you wanted someone to write a letter to you, and all my drafts were shit--”

“--Ieyasu, that was in high school, you remembered that--?”

“--and someone has to try and be decent to you.” He charged on, trying desperately to ignore the spreading smile on her lips. “And if it has to be me, then that’s disappointing, but I guess we can’t all have what we want.”

“Yasu.”

And she was in his arms suddenly, her hands cradling his cheeks where they’d belonged, all these years, and the next thing he knew he’d shoved her up against the screen door and pressed his lips to hers. It was so much easier than he’d dreamed it would be. She was sweet and sugar and heaven, and he closed his lips around the bottom one of hers and sucked hard. Her moan shot adrenaline through his blood. Bolstered by stupid hope, he hitched his fingers through her belt loops on her jeans and dragged her hips against his, the swell of her body intoxicating.

“Yasu,” she sighed, barely audible, and it was everything he’d ever wanted.

“Shut up and let’s go inside,” he grumbled, shoving her door open. “Don’t think you’re getting off easy from this.”

“Please.” She’d learned long ago how to separate out his ‘Be quiet’ shut ups and his ‘I can’t stand it’ shut ups, and he knew she’d found the right one from her smile. “I hope I’m not.”

[raphiot]

The Little Lop-eared Lady

How does that crazy old lady make a mess like this, day after day? It’s like she runs around the building tossing shit everywhere, giggling about how funny it’ll be when she orders us to clean it up.

I had cleaned the kitchen, the guest room and the hallway. My dress was dirt-black. I’d already smoked three cigarettes and it wasn’t even noon yet. It’s a never ending job keeping up with the crone who lives in this dump, not to mention thankless—how has Ethel put up with this for so long? How has she kept from having a nervous breakdown and stabbing that slavedriver to death?

Beatrix Potter, the loony Lunarian that lords over this little witch’s house. Oh, she acts nice enough—candies peaches for us, made Ethel a nice necklace, has only ever joked about cutting off our feet to make luck charms once or twice—but I see through the facade. That snide, smug, self-satisfied smile. The way she wears her hair in that careless, sloppy bun. The way she holes herself up in her room for days at a time without a word. She’s a self-absorbed, slave driving sponge, leeching off our labor while she lies around and barks orders.

It’s always, ‘You left cigarette butts on the dining table, Matilda,’ or ‘Don’t leave your dirty plate sitting on the veranda after lunch, Matilda,’ or ‘Could you go to the market and fetch some milk since you drank the last of the gallon, Matilda.’ Lazy old bat! Won’t do a damn thing herself! Makes me sick!

“Matilda? Didst thee drop some heavy thing? I heard a banging sound, come from beyond the balcony door,” snaked the muffled, lecherous voice of the Lunarian woman, feigning concern from inside the building.

“I, ah, everything’s fine,” I replied quickly; I had absentmindedly been stomping the ground in my very rightful anger. Thinking fast, I added, “I tripped over one of the flower pots you leave out here. Real dangerous, leavin’ ‘em sitting next to the side ramp. Lucky I caught myself. I could’ve gotten hurt if I fell.”

“Oh, truly? I did hope the ivy might benefit from direct sunlight. Mayhap you are right—do bring them inside, then, wouldst you?”

Gritting my teeth and grumbling, I squatted down to lift one of the oversized plant pots, digging my thumbs into the potted dirt. She grows so many plants here. Fruits and vegetables and all kinds of flowers. I gotta wonder, is it because she’s so disconnected from life and death that she feels a need to watch it all the time, just so she remembers what it is?

Not long after Ethel signed me up for her little lunar coven, I tried asking. Why all these little projects? ‘The fruit of the mind rots eternal,’ she’d pretentiously yarn. Just how old is she, anyway? ‘Old enough to remember, but young enough to forget,’ whatever that meant. If she can’t die, does she really need to eat or sleep? ‘Please just help your sister prepare supper like I asked,’ she ordered, before rudely leaving the room.

Between the ivy leaves scratching my nose, there was a bright light coming from the sidewalk, like someone was holding up a mirror and reflecting the sun. Annoying—as if I didn’t already have enough to put up with, some goddamn hobo was trying to blind me. I put the pot down and raised my fist to yell at them, but whoever it was had already run off.

I set the pot down just inside the door and scanned the room for lurking eyeballs. The moon hag had wandered off somewhere, and I hadn’t seen my sister in a good hour or two—there was always the chance she’d gotten lost in the cupboards somewhere, hunting down every last strand of shed old lady hair.

The balcony entrance led to a mess of a room that Beatrix called ‘the laboratory,’ but the only laboring that ever happened in there was my sorry butt trying to scrape the still-burning embers of her failed science experiments off the walls. Two big tables sat in the middle of the hardwood floor, covered in filthy beakers, dirt and the occasional spot of mold growth. ‘Don’t clean up the dirt,’ she’d tell me. That it’s ‘rare lunar soil.’ How rare can it be if there’s a whole moon covered in it?

I’m not sure what it was about it, but the room seemed to attract plants. Every time I went in there, I’d find another vine growing out of a crack in the wall. One time I found a seed that had started to grow from a single speck of the moon dust that made it onto the floor. It doesn’t concern me much—I just rip them out and toss them.

I leaned into the doorframe and edged my head into the hallway, one ear at a time. Looking toward the library, there was nothing but empty hall and closed doors, lined by that ugly waist-high red wallpaper and those gaudy paintings of Lunarians holding rabbits. They sort of creep me out—are those round little puff-rats how humans really see us? Granted, I dunno what a human sees when I give ‘em the eye, but I always assumed it was something scary. Not whatever that is.

I turned my head to look toward the door, and who did I see but my little goody two-shoes sister. Standing there, with her fluffed-up ears and neatly combed hair, dusting the paintings. So proper. So refined. That tease. That flirt. Standing there, with all the buttons shined up on her green shirt. Oh, I’d seen her, showing off to rabbits passing by the Gallery. She acts like she’s so innocent, but I’m not fooled.

And to think she has the gall to tell me how to take care of myself. So what if I just comb my hair back in the morning? Nobody’s gonna see me anyway. And if I go outside, the wind takes care of the rest.

“Oh, Matilda,” she said, turning her head toward me, those dopey elephant ears of hers flopping around like fish out of water, “did you finish cleaning the guest room? How is the laboratory looking?”

I folded my arms impatiently. Of course! The first time we see each other in who knows how many hours since the slave driver sent us off to till the endless fields and clean her countless cobwebs, and what does she have to say to me? Not ‘good to see you,’ or ‘I’m glad the witch hasn’t made you into rabbit stew.’ No, it’s just the usual lack of trust in my work ethic, as if I’m some freeloader.

Should I not at least expect my own sister to join me in slacking off as a form of consolation? A rabbit rapport that stood tall against the old lady menace? No, that would imply that she and the hag aren’t giggling giddy behind my back, coming up with busy work for me to do. Who put these fingerprints on my imagination?

“Is something the matter? Your eyebrow is all atwitch,” she said, softening her voice to sound as innocent as she could manage, clearly guilt-ridden.

“Yeah, yeah, I took care of it, if you couldn’t tell. My clothes are black,” I pointed out the obvious, gesturing to the dirt darkened dress. “I’ve earned a break, ain’t I?”

“It is nearly tea time, so we can all rest a spell. Could you do me a favor first?” she asked coyly, wearing on her face an insincere smile.

“What’s that?” I impatiently demanded. A favor that would take the better part of the next hour, no doubt.

“I’ve not had a chance to tend the garden. If it’s not too much trouble, could you water the flowers?” she asked, touching the tips of her fingers together, transparently faking innocence. The garden was her job, and I wasn’t about to be suckered into taking on extra work simply because she didn’t want to get dirt on her pretty long ears.

As I was placing my hands on my hips and filling my lungs with the air needed to righteously deny her, however, she reached out and grabbed one of my ears.

“Hey! What are you doing?!” I demanded, careful not to jerk my head and pull my own ear off.

“Please, Mattie? I need time to prepare the tea and scones, so I would dearly appreciate your help,” she said, one weasley lie after another. While she had me distracted and fearing for my poor ear, she snaked the fingers of her free hand to my armpit and began to torture me with tickling.

“Stop! Stop it!” I cried between unwanted giggles. “Okay! Okay! I’ll water your goddamn plants!”

“Thank you,” she said with an evil smile. She loosened her grip on my ear and I slapped her hands away. Curling her finger and placing it on her lips to stifle her wicked cackling, she began toward the kitchen. “It shouldn’t take you but a minute, so come back to the kitchen when you’re finished, if you like.”

I scoffed. As if. The last thing I wanted was to play pastry maid; as soon as I was done watering those plants, I’d be off on another date with Mr. Marlboro. I begrudgingly made for the double doors at the entrance, quietly praying that a rainstorm had kicked up while I’d been inside.

Sadly this was one of the few days the big guy in the sky decided our little home sweet home didn’t need a thorough cleansing via torrents of rain and a sprinkling of lightning. The sunlight poked through the trees as if to greet me—what a nuisance. Eventually I convinced myself to trudge down into the mud hole we call a garden and pick up the watering can.

This dress, this field of plants and vegetables, this pail—I felt downright amish. All I needed was a well you pump by hand and I’d be right back in the 1800s. As backwards as things often were in the hermit’s company, though, we at least had running water and electricity.

I dropped the watering can onto the ground, dragged the hose toward me bit by bit, coiled the length of it next to me, and plopped the end into the can. If I wasn’t dirty before, I was then, my hands slimy with grime. I turned the nozzle, grumbling.

“Matilda, what would your mother say if she saw you covered in mud like that?”

A voice called from behind my back. I swung around to see the trees, like skyscrapers, reaching into the sun above me. A figure stood there among the forest, his shoes sunk into an inch of pine needles and shrubs. The hatch that lead into the warren was open next to him. The glare of the sunlight was blinding, but I could see his messy curls of hair, and I could feel his tired stare.

Daddy…?

The man turned to leave, blocking the sun’s blinding glare. Past the gate, standing on the crumbling sidewalk, I could see his shining spikes of golden hair tucked beneath a flat cap and his filthy-looking black leather jacket. The telltale look of a runaway coward who had a lot of nerve to show his face here.

Of course it wasn’t dad. It will never be dad.

“Hey!” I shouted at the golden hobo-hare as he ambled away. “Where do you think—”

He took the brim of his hat between his finger and thumb and covered his eyes, taking off down the street at a sudden urgent pace. I grit my teeth and tossed the still-flowing hose into the dirt. Grabbing my dress and hiking it up to my knees, I darted after the jerk. Once I reached the fence, I squatted down to gather my strength, my legs like coiled springs, and bound over the gate in one hop.

The hem of my dress caught on the gate and I nearly tumbled to the concrete. I managed to jerk it free with only a small rip, but by the time I looked up, there was no trace of that man’s greasy blonde hair.

Any other day I probably would have given up right then. My dress was covered in filth, there was mud in my shoes, and I could hear flowing water as I’d forgotten to turn the hose off—but god damn it, if I wasn’t determined to find that man and make him answer. Who the hell does he think he is, slinking around my home, spying on me and my sister?

So I took off in the direction he’d snuck away, flicking my eyes back and forth like a crazed cat hunting for a slippery little mouse. What hole did you disappear into, Gally? Down the abandoned alleyway next to the Gallery, where the dregs gather because they can smell the moon peaches? Perhaps hiding in the bushes, waiting for me to pass by so you can sneak away like a cornered rat? My teeth were clenched tight as I hunted for him, my fists bound so hard my knuckles were turning white.

Without realizing it, I’d pursued him down to the train tracks at the end of the block. Yellow cat’s eyes looked curiously down at me from the black, empty windowsills of the abandoned houses nearby, and if I was in a mood to care, I might have been concerned about the ever-present possibility of some lecher lurking in the shadows looking for his next taste of hare’s blood.

“Galahad! You coward! Show your face right now, you slimy, slackjawed vermin!” I shouted into the rustling trees. “You crusty old rat! You’ve got some nerve coming to my home, an—”

A hand slipped over my mouth, large enough to grab me by the jaw. It was connected to an arm covered by filthy leather, and above my head there was the blonde beard of the damned codger I’d been shouting at. His palm smelled like tobacco. He put a finger to his mouth and shushed me, which only encouraged me to flail my arms in anger and shout into his hand.

“Be quiet, goddamnit,” he said in a hushed, wary tone. He looked this way and that, probably looking for the shadow people that only appeared in his dried out, elderly mind. Once he was convinced that nobody was there, because of course there wasn’t, he let go of my mouth, spun me around and grabbed my shoulders. “Quit followin’ me. Ain’t safe out here.”

His voice rumbled in that gravelly way it always did, like there was a rock slide in my ears. Every time I heard him talk I could only wonder how he wasn’t dying of throat cancer. Still, as annoying as I found it in that moment, there was something comfortingly familiar about it.

“As if you give a damn about my safety,” I said, hot vapor escaping my nose. I turned my head away and huffed at him; he didn’t deserve the dignity of being looked in the eyes.

He sighed, mumbling grunts as if he had any right to be dissatisfied with me. He let go of my shoulders and gave me a long, hard stare, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets. I scrunched up my nose at him to return the displeased sentiment. An uncomfortable silence settled in—which he broke with a fit of snickering.

“What’s so funny?” I demanded, stamping my foot impatiently.

“Oh, it’s jus’,” he pointed at my dirty dress. “They really got you scrubbin’ the floors and pickin’ weeds? I ‘member a time when you used to scream and shout when Charley so much as made you pick up yer toys and—”

“Shut up! What do you know? I did chores! I cleaned! You just didn’t stick around long enough to see!” I turned my back to him and folded my arms, my face red-hot. I thought about leaving him standing there right then, but I stood my ground.

“Alright, alright. Listen, let’s go somewheres nobody can hear us, okay? You can yell at me all ya like, then,” he said, sounding immediately tired of his own concession.

Turning my head enough only to give him a sidelong glance, I nodded shortly. He began to nonchalantly walk away down the train tracks, and would have left me standing there if I hadn’t hurried to follow. I again had a strong inclination to leave the senile old man to his wiles and just go home, but I was determined to give him a piece of my mind.

As we walked the tracks, the guy popped up his collar, lowered the brim of his hat and tried to sink low into his coat like a turtle hiding in its shell. It was ridiculous; as if any of the vagrants hunting the alleys for cans to turn in were going to recognize him.

“What are you doing?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I couldn’t help but laugh. “You look like an asshole.”

“Anybody was to see you with me, it’d complicate things,” he grumbled.

“Don’t wanna be seen with a dangerous Separatist criminal like me, huh?” I said before jabbing him in the rib with my elbow. He grunted and shook his head.

“No. If they was to see you, any of Jack’s flunkeys might think they could use you to get to me,” he said, an obvious lie.

Jack is dead, why would the Separatist rabbits still be looking for Galahad? Petty revenge? They were a group of displaced hares looking for a better life; they wouldn’t be interested in ‘getting back’ at Galahad for ridding them of a lying, lecherous, greedy man who promised more than he could deliver. At least, I would hope they wouldn’t—Jack broke up families, destroyed homes and tortured people, and for what? To end up right back where we started?

I found myself staring at the blonde man hiding under his flat cap. A matter of weeks ago, I wanted to see him strung up on a cross, literally bled dry to lead me to a fool’s paradise. Where did that anger go? There on the tracks, I saw his blonde bristles of beard, and for some reason I could not summon that anger. It was simply gone, and all I could offer in its place was annoyance.

“If you say so. Don’t they have better things to do than chase after a scraggly old man like you?” I asked, smirking.

He gave a raspy chuckle. “I sure hope so.”

As the track smoothed out onto road, the old rabbit lead me onto the street, and stopped before an inconspicuous looking little square house, its baby blue paint chipping and its roof looking like it might fall in any day now. Its yard was untended and overgrown, and the windows were shaded and dark. From where I stood, it looked like a drug den.

Galahad climbed the two step stoop made of cinder block before the door, and dug into his pant pocket to pull out a key. He stuck it into the door, and with some jimmying and banging, managed to get it open. I hopped up behind him to follow inside, but he placed his hand on my head as if telling me to wait, and poked his face into the crack of the door.

He stood there for a long while, taking in shallow breaths through his nose and silently scanning the room with his eyes. Finally, he was satisfied, and swung the door wide. He stepped quickly inside, ushered me in, and shut the door just as fast behind me.

I flicked the lightswitch next to the door and was greeted by a dimly flickering lightbulb above my head that provided just enough light to make out a vague amber outline of what lurked in the room. I saw the ceiling, pockmarked with rain damage; I saw cracked walls bleeding plaster onto the barren hardwood floor; I saw empty tables in the adjacent ‘kitchen’ that lacked a refrigerator. In fact, the tiny house distinctly lacked any sort of appliances whatsoever. Save for a couple of lawn chairs, piles of ashes here and there, discarded packs of cigarettes, and a bundled up sleeping bag in the corner, the place was empty.

“You, uh… live here?” I asked, looking at him incredulously.

“No,” he said, pulling a cigarette pack from his coat pocket. “This is an unoccupied house. I’d say it was abandoned, but there’s a guy who owns it. He jus’ ain’t done nothin’ with it in, oh, ten or so years, as far as I gather.”

“So you’re squatting.”

“I like to think of it as recyclin’. I’m usin’ somethin’ that’s been thrown away. Lotta houses in this town just sit empty for years an’ rot, while poor folk who could be livin’ in ‘em are sittin’ in the rain right outside. The guy who owns it ain’t usin’ it, so what am I hurtin’, sleepin’ on the floor every now and again?” he puffed excuses through the cigarette held in his lips as he leaned against the wall. He looked so unconcerned, the owner could probably have burst through the door at that very moment and he wouldn’t so much as blink.

“Then how’d you get the key? You steal it?”

“The owner was in here checkin’ fer squatters a while back. I convinced him to give it to me, an’ as far as he knows ain’t nobody been here,” he explained, shrugging.

“I thought you told us to never use our eyes unless we absolutely had to,” I interjected, attacking a hole in his complacency. “You hypocrite. Not so holy and righteous after all, are ya?”

“You an’ yer friends didn’t leave me much choice. Thanks to what you put the kid through, my old hidin’ place ain’t so secret anymore. I go back there and I’m liable to catch a bullet in my teeth,” he rumbled, lighting his cig. “An’ that’d be inconvenient.”

I nodded absentmindedly; the image of the old coot running from one hidey hole to another, pursued by drug addicts and the people he’d burned sprang into my mind. I put my hand over my mouth to hide a spiteful smirk.

When I was done silently laughing at his misfortune, however, I recalled the annoying reason I was standing in his crummy hovel in the first place. I put a hand on my hip and pointed an accusing finger at him, poised to give him the talking-to that he’d earned from his years of negligence and cowardice, but more importantly, for how he’d irritated me on that particular day by darkening my doorway.

“And so you thought it’d be a good idea to show up at my house, skulking around like a goddamn thief? These people who’re supposedly looking for you, they sure didn’t stop you from showing your prickly prick face did they? What if they showed up there, looking for you?” I stabbed my pointed finger forward through the air until it stopped on his chest, where I harshly poked his leather jacket several times.

He shut his eyes and sighed, likely taking a moment to come up with an excuse. In his position, leaned up against the wall with my finger jammed squarely into his ribs, it was going to need to be a good one.

“Hadn’t seen you or your sister in a fair bit, not since everythin’ went down. Wanted to make sure you was alright,” he mumbled and wouldn’t look at me, instead staring at the blinds in the window.

For a moment I wasn’t sure what to say. I withdrew my finger, turned around and looked toward the filthy tiles of the kitchen floor. There was a heavy, uncomfortable air in the room that was making my cheeks hot, so I changed the subject.

“Why’re you staying in a shitty place like this? Why not leave town, find somewhere better?” I asked, subtly concealing my desire for him to go away with an innocent-sounding question.

I could feel his yellow eyes pressing against the back of my head.

“I can’t. Not before I find ‘im.”

“Him?” I questioned, spinning around. “You mean… Jack?”

“I know what yer thinkin’—you saw the kid bludgeon him to death with yer own eyes, practically painted the damn floor with his blood. Ain’t no way he survived that, right?” He took a long puff, inhaled, and exhaled the smoke through his nose. “Iffin’ that was the case, his body shoulda turned up somewhere.”

“What? What are you talking about—didn’t the police take it?”

“Yeah, ‘bout that. I did some askin’ around, poked my nose here an’ there. Accordin’ to them, there weren’t no murders in the church that day. Just some injured folk who can’t recall what happened. But you know how it is in this town; they jus’ arrest everyone half-suspicious lookin’ and call it case closed, none too concerned ‘bout who did what,” he explained, and shook his head, disgusted.

“I’m sure the Separatist rabbits took him. They probably just chucked his body in the river,” I said, shrugging impassively. “He may have been a lying scumbag but I’m sure they didn’t just leave him there for the humans to find.”

“Ain’t that simple. If he’s gone, the Separatists should be scattered, disorganized. As it is, I’ve had three run-ins with ‘em just this week, an’ not fer a friendly chat over coffee ‘n donuts,” he said, his eyes tensing on me. “But it seems things’ve changed. They ain’t interested in my blood, not no more. No, what they want is ‘make the traitors pay.’”

I felt a chill run down my spine. That intense stare he was giving me, the low rumble of his words. This was no joke, he wasn’t trying to play some kind of mean-spirited prank. I could be in danger, just by having followed him.

Well that’s just fucking great. ‘Traitors’ like me.

“This gettin’ through to ya? Ya ain’t safe bein’ seen around me,” he said through a sheen of smoke. “Best thing for ya is to stay with that moon crone. Sure, she may be a headcase what’s got you cleanin’ her floors with a toothbrush, but no rabbit ‘round these parts’ll give ya trouble so long as you’re with her.”

“You kidding? That crazy old bag is a danger to herself and others. I’d prolly be safer on the streets,” I sighed, folding my arms.

I could either fear for my life running from the remnants of the Separatists, constantly looking over my shoulder, or I could fear for my life living as a lunatic’s girl in waiting, constantly wondering if her next crazy experiment will turn our house into a crater. You just can’t win in this world.

There was a light tap on the window, followed by several more. I felt a draft blow in from the door—a sudden rainshower. I nearly kicked the door in frustration; if I’d just waited a half hour I would never have needed to water the plants in the first goddamn place.

“Aw hell. That figures,” Galahad grumbled from the wall. He gave me a wry smile, and said, “Least we ain’t in it, huh?”

“Yeah, now I’m just stuck in here with you ‘till I decide I’m ready to get drenched,” I muttered.

“Y’know, I been thinkin’, since yer here, girl—” he rudely began, but I cut him off.

“I have a name.”

Chuckling, he cleared his throat and began again. “A’course, Matilda.” He pushed himself up from the wall and straightened his back. “Since yer here, maybe you could help elucidate somethin’ for me.” He came nearer, his presence akin to a cloud of cigarette smoke. “You were there when they took the emissary's blood, weren’tcha? You was with Jack’s Separatists from the beginnin’.”

“I was,” I confirmed, looking him unapologetically in the eye.

“You watched ‘em as they took a confused, helpless girl who didn’t know up from down and cut her open in the street. You watched as they left her to die.”

“I did.”

We were staring daggers into one another. I was afraid to blink, as it might have made him miss even a moment of my spiteful look.

“Yet they never did kill ‘er, and she was lucky enough for some bumbling kid to come along an’ patch her up. Jack, for all his blusterin’, couldn’t even kill one little moon girl. Ain’t like he didn’t have ample opportunity to finish her off later, either. Why’s that, ya think?” He stood over me, saying whatever he wanted, so satisfied with himself. I wanted to slap him, but I just looked at him and said nothing.

“I don’t think he had a sudden change ‘a heart, or that he didn’t have the stomach for it. No, I think somebody stopped him,” he sneered.

I felt my ears perk, my anxious nerves like needles pricking under the skin. I was an inch from reaching up and tearing his hair out.

“I think somebody stuck their neck out for our little moonie and begged him not to hurt ‘er. Ain’t that right?”

“SHUT UP!”

The words strangled me as they left my throat. My hands were balled into fists around his leather jacket, and I felt my bottom lip rupture as my two big teeth dug into it. Under the thundering beat of my heart, I stopped myself where I was, grabbing him, and repeated myself.

“Shut. Up.”

“... Sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t mean… It’s just, because of you, she’s still…”

I let go of him and turned around, staring at the filthy floor. I sighed a heavy sigh; it’s true—when Jack cut open the lunar emissary, he was going to slit her throat to get the blood for that poison. I begged him not to. She’s a moonie, those holier-than-thou cretins who look down their noses at us filthy half-breeds on the Earth. I should have hated her—but she looked just like us, and she was alone and scared, couldn’t even speak our language. It wasn’t right. So he cut her down the middle instead, where she surely would have bled to death if it wasn’t for some bumbling moron in the night who happened to find her.

So much for me being some bucktoothed paragon of mercy like everyone keeps trying to imply. All my begging didn’t amount to very much.

“Just, maybe you could help me out here, that’s all I’m sayin’. If I’m gonna find ‘im, I need to understand ‘im.” Galahad’s scratchy drawl had a tint of desperation in it. The sound of him at a loss, asking for something only I could give—it was pretty nice, honestly. “What kinda leader was he? What’d he have ya do?”

“You wanna know what happened? I’ll tell you,” I stated, taking a deep breath. “But this is just so there’s no confusion.”

“Right,” he grunted, stuffing his hands back in his pockets and returning to the crumbling wall.

“After we took the emissary's blood... the next step was to wait for you to come out of hiding,” I explained, turning my head to glance at him. “With the emissary’s blood to make skoab, Jack thought you’d have no choice but to show yourself. And sure enough, you did.”

Galahad frowned and glanced down at his feet glumly, but nodded for me to continue.

“There was this old abandoned house we were staying in to make the drug. I’m sure you know how that is,” I said, giving him a knowing look.

Galahad stared back wryly. “You sure it was abandoned? Ya didn’t jus’ eyeball somebody outta their home, didja?”

“I’m sure. The place was a dump. Whoever lived there ditched it a long time ago; the driveway was full of dead cars and rusted old junk. From the way the place smelled I’d be surprised if there wasn’t a dead body in one of the rooms and we just never found it.”

“Some ‘Heaven on Earth,’” he scoffed, shifting his moustache in distaste. “Lot better than livin’ in a place you could call yer own, with people who care about ya.”

“Anyway,” I continued, ignoring him, “it was only a few of us. Me, Jack, Barnaby from the warren, some other people I didn’t know. Jack didn’t want to attract attention, so he only ever had a few of us together at once.”

Except for that time he gathered us all together to terrorize the emissary just because she survived, I remembered. We pushed her into the mud and spat on her.

“He was a real jerkass. Always his way or the highway. Always had some big plan, would never give us all the details. Just ‘trust me Mattie,’ and ‘you know I’m right Mattie,’ and ‘I understand humans better than you, Mattie,’ like the fact that he lived out in the city made him better than us somehow. He even had the gall to make a pass at me,” I said. As my lips shut I put my fingers over them, realizing I’d said too much.

“Did he now?” Galahad questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, but I turned him down. He stunk like blood and rotten eggs all the time,” I said matter of factly, brushing it aside. The scruffy old man just grunted in response.

That was a lie, of course. Jack’s ‘pass’ at me was far from an amiable fliration. He deliberately tried to get me alone—I know it was half the reason we were in that abandoned shack in the first place. I still remember the lecherous way he looked at me, the way his clothes stunk like death when he came near me. If Barnaby wasn’t there with us, I don’t know what he might have tried. The thought of it frightened me, but I wasn’t about to tell that to ol’ Gally.

“He had me contacting every drug dealer we could find, trying to get ahold of a sample of your skoab that wasn’t already smeared onto somebody’s face. Then, I heard about some crackpot named Markus Flick. Think you might know him. We arranged a deal with him, and he sent a scraggly looking homeless kid up to give us the goods.” I turned to face Galahad, my arms held playfully behind my back. I was sure I was getting under his skin.

“Mm,” is all he said in return, listening with his eyes shut.

“He gave me a bag with a little jar in it, and he demanded I pay him. And then d’ya know what I did?”

“What’s that?” he asked, sighing.

“I looked him in the eye, and I told him to leave and never come back,” I stated simply, shrugging. “And you know what? He was so scared he fell on his ass, and took off running! Oh, if you coulda seen the look on his face. He was terrified!”

I couldn’t help but giggle. It really was hilarious, watching that guy’s face turn white and open his mouth to silently scream. I don’t really know what it is he saw, but from everything I know about how humans react to the ‘red eyes’ rabbits have, it must’ve been pretty terrible. Then again, he seemed alright when I saw him again later—so no harm, no foul, right?

“So that’s what happened,” Galahad said, exhaling smoke and running his hand down his face. “Goddamnit, you coulda got him killed. After ya did that, next thing he knew he was on the other side ‘a town. Was almost at the damn lake afore he came to his senses. Ya can’t just use yer eyes on folk willy nilly, this is the sorta shit that happens.”

“Hey, don’t gimme that! God knows how many people have been outta their minds for who knows how long, thanks to your little poison ointment! You got a lotta nerve to lecture me,” I shouted back.

I wouldn’t let him stand there and preach to me when the only reason we had access to this leaking hole of a house was his use of his eyes. He just sighed, however, and gave me a defeated look.

“I don’t wanna hear it. I know what I done,” he glumly muttered. “I just... dunno how it all ended up this way. Iffin’ I thought I could jus’ let him go, I’d forget about Jack. I’d go away somewhere that I couldn’t cause any more trouble. I fucked things up too much already.”

“Yeah you have! You made a real big mess of everything! Why’d you have to leave in the first place? If you just stayed in the warren, then Jack wouldn’t have convinced us to do all this stupid shit! Then, dad wouldn’t be…”

We stood there, staring at one another. There was a pained look in his eye, like he knew everything I was saying was true, but there was nothing to be done about it now. I knew that as well as anybody, but it wouldn’t stop me from resenting him. Finally, he broke the silence.

“The rain’s stopped.”

The air around the house was still, and the incessant dripping from the leaky ceiling onto the carpet had slowed. I looked toward the door, but I wasn’t quite ready to leave yet.

“After we got the skoab from you… Jack changed,” I said, looking down at my fingers. “I almost never saw him. He locked himself in a room making more and more of it for over a day. And then he was always gone, spreading it around the town. He had me doing it, too, disguising myself as all these different people. He had me put it in old peoples’ food, for Chrissake.

“I saw what it did to people. At the time, he’d convinced me that it was justified. That we had to, because the humans had taken the world all for themselves, and this was the only way to take it back. But…”

“I know. It sounded right. You were tryin’ to do what you thought you had to,” he said quietly. The room fell silent again, until finally he spoke again. “Every night, I find myself thinkin’—wish I could go back homeward. Make things right again. But what’s done is done, there ain’t no goin’ back. What’s left to do is make right of what we got now.

“You oughta leave ‘fore the rain starts up again,” he said, his voice a low rumble.

I nodded and made for the door. With the knob turned halfway, I paused, and turned to look at him again. He removed his hat and wiggled his little ears at me, smiling.

“... I am glad you came back for us. I really am,” I forced the words out as quickly as I could, and slipped through the door.

☆☽☆

With the rabbit girl hopping back home, the gold-haired rabbit stood there a while, staring at the door. For a time, his mind was empty, unable to conjure the thoughts to go along with what he’d just done. Then, his muscles were spurred to movement again. He rose his hands to his head and buried them in his hair, sliding on his back down the wall until he hit the floor.

Liar.

It was only a little white lie, but it was a lie all the same. So much time he had spent surrounding himself with lies. Lies to protect others, lies to protect himself. The faces humans had known him by, lies. The names he’d been called by humans and hares alike—lies.

He was not some gallant, righteous figure whose story rested in exalted tomes of legend. He was not a man who had dedicated to himself to the preservation of his people and culture, nor did he champion the cause of leading those who had been exiled to a new home where they would be welcomed by those like them.

He was just a liar.

From the corner of his eye, the darkness lurking in the lightless spots in the empty kitchen began to bloom and grow. A malignant cloud of shadow, spreading its way over the filthy tiles and spilling onto the carpet. From the black hole, a thin figure sporting a green jacket and long dress emerged. The hare’s thick, blonde eyebrows tightened in anger.

“Whaddya want, witch?” his voice quaked, shaking in the dark.

“What a fine how-do-you-do. Hast thee been afflicted by a malady of rudeness to accompany thy brooding?” the figure in the dark said, its voice flighty and feminine. “I am come merely to see to the wellbeing of my servant, whom you so uncouthly snuck away.”

“You were listenin’ in, were ya? Stickin’ yer nose where it don’t belong again?”

“Oh, but how could I not? ‘Twas such a heated discussion, the atmosphere betwixt the two of you so intense. For a moment, I should not have been surprised if you took her in your great hairy arms and—”

“Shut it,” the hare interrupted.

“Come now, Galahad. How was I to guess that amid thy scruffy exterior, there exist still such a vulnerable creature? ‘I wish it were different. I wish to go home. Oh, little Matilda, the sight of you doth stir the troubled waters of mine heart!’”

The woman threw her head back in laughter, the green ribbon tied around her neck bouncing up and down as she cackled. When she was finished, she pressed the tips of her fingers to her chest as and steadied her breathing, as if relishing each merry breath.

The rabbit sitting on the floor rose slowly to his feet and slipped his flat cap over his stubby ears, adjusting the brim to rest over his brow. He looked sternly into the hermit’s eyes, internally debating whether he need explain anything to her at all. Finally, he let out an indecisive grumble.

“She’s the daughter of a good friend. A’course I care for her,” he stated gruffly.

“Ah, but I tug at your feeble heartstrings merely for a merry jest. Feel howsoever you like, it maketh no difference to me. The girl is mine, and with me she shall stay. The more pertinent matter is that of the falsehoods you hath filled her head with,” Beatrix mused. She pointed a white-gloved finger at the rabbit in the corner, her eyes bright. “Thou wish not to return home to her warren. Thou pine not for a time whereupon you were that girl’s guardian and teacher.”

The hare said nothing, merely reached into his pockets for another cigarette. The Lunarian went on pointing, filling the tiny house with her bombastic claims.

“You are wont to let her believe that, as is convenient, but truly, truly! Truly you wish to put all of this behind you. Long you stare into Luna at night, wishing only to heed her call. To shed your false earthly moniker, and once again be known as the golden sunlight hare! Am I wrong, Heart of the Sunrise?”

Galahad took a long puff from his cigarette, answering Beatrix’s claim with an exhausted stare. For even if everything she said was true, that dream had long gone from the hare’s mind. He looked toward the floor and shook his head in defeat.

“Is that all? I didst hope you at least would have the backbone to fly into a rage and throw me from your…” Beatrix paused to run her gloved finger down the wall, coming away with a small pile of dust, “home. Seems only common courtesy.”

“Feel free to show yerself out,” Galahad grunted, staring her down.

“As you wish,” Beatrix said firmly, holding her nose in the air. She began back toward the darkness she’d emerged, but as she crept away, she flit her gaze back to the hare and quickly added, “but what if I held what you seek? What if I knew thy way back home?”

Galahad glared at her. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“‘Tis true. Knowest I the currents, the stretch of stars that yet lead to Heaven above. Knowest I how to return thee, the prodigal sun, to his long-lost home,” Beatrix declared, each word more boastful than the last. “Doth thee not wish to go home? Be it not all you have ever wanted since you fell upon this muddy, miserable Earth, gold knight?”

“Get out,” the rabbit rumbled, his teeth grinding into the cigarette butt between his lips.

“Thou need only ask, Galahad. Climb aboard my starship, let us sail for the skies.”

“GET OUT!” Galahad thundered. He stomped in anger, the floorboard cracking under the force.

“I shall be waiting. Come, and we shall sail away,” the Lunarian calmly offered, her voice as quiet and wispy as the wind slipping under the door.

The shadows in the kitchen swelled, reaching from the corners to claim the Lunarian woman. They crawled over her form, swallowing her little by little until she was no more, and the blonde rabbit again stood alone on the damp, rotting carpet beneath him.

[adamcoled]

change | pete dunne

pt. 2, pt. 3

A/N: This was originally going to be just one long thing rather than two parts, but idk man I just felt like it needed to be split. 

How horribly rude it was for time to mock me, the clock’s hands shifting slower and slower with each fleeting glance at the stupid thing, mounted on the wall so conspicuously that it would have been much harder to ignore it than to watch as each monotonous minute passed by. There was reason for this overwhelming boredom, of course, since I was at work and there isn’t much excitement as a waitress, besides occasional impatient customers and the gnawing premonition that all of this food can be thrown to the floor with just one wrong step.

A new excitement came in the form of a shy, kind-hearted guy whose arrival I anticipated each shift. Over his many appearances at this same restaurant, I’d learned quite a bit about Tyler, though it was our outside rendezvous that allowed me into his life much further than I would have guessed.

As unfortunate as it seemed at first, we were strictly friends. Admittedly, there were some feelings in the beginning, which we acted upon a few times through dinner dates and endless flirting, but the click just wasn’t there. While we could have lied to ourselves, forced the connection we both so desperately wanted, it was a mutual agreement when I suggested staying platonic. Thankfully, we remained friends and he continued making unexpected stops while I was working, though I had an inkling the food may have been a bigger reason for that than me.

Through a few of our conversations, I’d learned about his career as a wrestler, which was reaching new heights and would explain his recent sporadic appearances, or lack thereof. I tended to stray away from that topic, however, since he must’ve heard about it enough as is. Despite my attempts to keep the wrestling talk at bay, Tyler always mentioned he wanted me to stop by one of the shows sometime, just to see him in action. He’d also brought up his friends a lot, too, each of them seeming like such a unique character completely unlike anyone else I knew. My years on this Earth had included far too many encounters with ordinary people, hardly set apart from the previous passerby, yet apparently all I had to do was get into the wrestling scene to discover overwhelming originality.

Tyler described quite a few names, but there was one that always stood out, sounded perfect rolling off my tongue, entered my mind with no intent to leave, much to my chagrin.

His name was Pete and, from the stories Tyler told, he seemed like the type of person people warn you about, though I’d never listened to warnings in the past and I certainly wasn’t about to start now.

I should have known one day Tyler would walk into the building with Pete beside him; in fact, I should have been surprised it had yet to happen, but regardless, I couldn’t help my absolute shock when he did. He’d repeated the line, “I’ll have to bring him in sometime,” quite a few times, though I had lingering hope that would never happen. I didn’t need to meet Pete to have him fluttering into my mind at unconventional times, so I could only imagine how things would evolve after an actual meeting.

When I made my way to their table, I tried to return the smile Tyler wore so proudly, but it faltered once I caught eye of Pete, staring blankly at me with an unreadable expression upon his face. He looked both bored and amused, an odd combination, if that was even possible. While I tried to greet them as I would greet any other customer, Tyler cut me off midway through.

“Y/N, this is Pete,” Tyler introduced, though it was completely unnecessary, seeing as the name and face frequented my thoughts.

“Ah, yeah, I remember the name,” I smiled forcefully, the understatement falling from my lips without a second thought, “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Pete nodded, a smirk making its way to his lips, the lips that could definitely work magic against my skin. “Yeah, you too. Tyler, if you had told me just how stunning she is before, maybe we woulda met much sooner.”

My face was on fire, my knees feeling weak for a moment before I remembered I was at work and it wasn’t my place to return the flirtation right now, even though I desperately wanted to.

“Yeah, maybe,” Tyler mumbled, seemingly annoyed by his friend’s antics. The two were very different, which I could conclude quite easily through word of mouth, but it wasn’t until each of them were in front of me that it became concrete. It was almost comical in a sense, two men taken straight from one of those cliché films in which the confused protagonist is stuck between the good guy you’d take home to mom and the sex-driven bad boy. Or maybe I was just inferring too much about Pete too early.

Ripped from my unorganized thoughts by their ordering, I hoped my feigned half-smile would deter from the fact that I’d gone into a practical trance for a few good seconds. It must’ve worked, because neither of them questioned it and I went on my way, holding my breath the entire trip to the back.

For once, I would have been grateful for the moments of standstill time. Any additional seconds to prepare for impending doom, or in lighter terms, Pete’s flirting, would have been accepted graciously, yet of course they never came. Instead, their food was prepared in what seemed like lightning speed, forcing me back to the table once more. Though, it was just barely enough time to build my resolve a bit stronger this time through a much needed mental pep-talk. Even if I was internally swooning over words Pete had probably repeated to a string of women in the past, making me just another lost name among the list, there was no reason for him to know that. I’d made it my goal to prove his compliments futile.

Tthat all crumbled when I got a bit closer and overheard their not-so-hushed conversation.

“Whatever, man,” Tyler huffed, “Just knock it off, alright? She doesn’t need to get caught up with your shit.”

“Calm down, mate. If I didn’t know betta, I’d say you like her or somethin’.”

“I’m just looking out for her.”

Cursing my horrible timing and clearing my throat louder than necessary, both heads snapped towards me in an instant, all conversation halted as they silently hoped I hadn’t heard too much. I hadn’t, but I had heard enough to make a general assumption that I was the topic of interest. I couldn’t be sure if I was more delighted to hear Tyler’s always-welcomed protection or Pete’s potential attraction, but I was absolutely sure that I wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

“Er…here you guys go,” I placed the plates before them, hoping to make a quick exit.

“Thanks, love,” Pete grinned, though it was full of arrogance and deceit. All I could do was nod, ushering myself away before he could speak up again.

That was only the first time I’d met Pete, but I could tell he’d become a familiar face soon enough. He’d already made a cozy home in my thoughts, anyway.

In the weeks to come, I saw both Tyler and Pete, but always separate, never coming together after that one evening. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the small events that transpired, or so I hoped. Pete had come waltzing into the restaurant several times, eyes watching me carefully each time I was too preoccupied to wait him, and Tyler hadn’t mentioned his troublesome friend since that day.

Maybe I wasn’t supposed to, but without the presence of Tyler, I’d fallen right into Pete’s relentless flirting. It’s not like I met up with Pete outside of my working hours, anyway, so our encounters were always cut short by annoying time constraints and the arrival of more customers. On several occasions, I’d reminded him I had a job to do and couldn’t dawdle over inappropriate coquetry, to which he insisted nobody else really mattered. If he’d had it his way, my attention would be focused solely on him, my job be damned.

If I’d had it my way, we’d be anywhere else but in a busy restaurant secretly exchanging sly innuendos and winks. Maybe out on a fancy date, maybe in his bed. For now, I’d have to settle for the back and forth seduction.

Coincidentally enough, just when he was creeping into my thoughts, I’d noticed him walking in, a habitual hand pushing his hair back as he caught my eye as well. Taking note of the way the corners of his lips upturned into a smirk, I quickly looked elsewhere, which may have done me in even more. If my weakness at his arrival hadn’t already been obvious by my staring, it surely was obvious by the quick attempt to divert my attention. He knew he had my full attention, he basked in that fact, yet still wasn’t satisfied. He wanted more and I was feeling generous. It only took a few seconds for me to find myself beside his table, awaiting the conversation to come.

“Hi, Pete,” I smiled, my voice undeniably sultry but hopefully not to the point where it seemed over-the-top. He had to do some chasing, after all.  

He ignored my greeting entirely, instead looking at his watch for a quick second. “Is your shift almost over?”

“In ten minutes, yeah, why? Got something in mind?”

“Was hoping you’d be my dinner date for the night.”

I couldn’t say I knew Pete extremely well or anything, but I knew enough to know he wasn’t much of a dinner date guy. He was nights spent at the bar with a random girl strewn across his lap, though that wasn’t enough to stop myself from agreeing.

“Dinner at the same place I work at?” I joked. Truthfully, I didn’t care where we went or what we did. I was still a bit shaken up by his request, the excitement rushing through my veins, drowning out the brief recollections of Tyler’s stories.

“We can go wherever you’d like,” he assured, my humor seemingly going unnoticed.

“I’m kidding. I’ll meet you here in a few.”

Over our impromptu dinner date, I’d learned even more about Pete, though he was still a bit of a mystery. Something told me I’d never understand him completely, there would always be an underlying secret. To say I wanted to figure him out would be a massive understatement. For now, I’d have to settle for the simple facts he told me that seemed laced with unsaid backstory. While I was an open book, willing to divulge anything to the man I barely knew, he kept everything behind sealed lips.

“Y’know, I don’t think Tyler likes me liking you very much,” Pete chuckled, taking a sip of his water nonchalantly. Meanwhile, I’d been so shocked by his words I was convinced I’d heard him wrong. I mean, he was an upfront guy, hardly ever watering down his thoughts at all, unafraid of their aftermath, but I hadn’t expected it one bit.

“Liking me?”  I repeated. A very tiny part of me, a part I wished was much bigger, hoped I’d misinterpreted, that he didn’t mean anything by it; Tyler was certainly right, I didn’t need to be caught up in someone like Pete. The defiant part of me wanted the opposite, though. Tyler didn’t need to make decisions for me, it was up to me to deal with the consequences of my actions.

He placed his chin on his hand, the smirk never leaving his face. “I’d like to take you out some more, if you’ll let me.”

My quick agreement surely let on my feelings for him, but perhaps I was too caught up in a web of emotions to really care.

Tyler grew a little suspicious when he noticed the increased time I spent on my phone, eyes glued to the screen and fingers tapping frantically, the little smiles that made their way to my face betraying me. If I had known it was that obvious and I was that oblivious, I’d have certainly tried to keep it discreet. That was no longer an option when Tyler finally decided to confront me about my newfound inattentiveness.

“Okay, what’s up with you?” he asked suddenly, the way my head immediately snapped up not helping my case, “You’re always smiling at that phone these days.”

Really, I was just reading texts from Pete; some of them weren’t even anything to really smile at, either. I had gotten too caught up in him, each day discovering another little tidbit about him that was probably unknown to most. Any text from him had me a distracted mess, a clear sign I was in too deep.

We hadn’t even gone out again yet. Though I didn’t forget his words, I couldn’t, since they played through my mind on a loop and he had brought them up once or twice since then, they had no actuality to them. While we had seen each other, it wasn’t in the capacity that I’d wished for. The ordinary encounters at the restaurant didn’t count for much.

I placed my phone down on my lap, face down so I couldn’t succumb to him yet again. “Just…someone,” I shrugged, which wasn’t necessarily a lie.

Actually, it was. How could anyone call Pete just someone? Someones were the people you meet once and could live without ever seeing again, whose names you’d probably forget in ten minutes flat. Pete was the one who managed to leave a massive impact on me without even a proper meeting.

“You gonna tell me about this ‘someone’?”

There wasn’t much to say, yet there was tons to say. It didn’t make much sense, not even to me. I’d gotten entrapped by devilish flirtation; explaining that it was Pete would be the hard part.

“Well…” I stalled. I could’ve made something up, sure, but admitting it now before he somehow found out any other way was probably best. For once, I made the smart decision. “Don’t get mad or anything.”

He raised his eyebrow before a brief look of realization crossed his face. “It’s Pete, isn’t it?” he concluded, though he wasn’t really looking for confirmation. He’d already deducted it based upon my odd behavior. “So, what, are you guys like dating?”

Although it was completely unfit for the situation, I couldn’t help but laugh at the assumption. Tyler knew Pete better than anyone and still offered such a crazy idea. Secretly, I might’ve wished it wasn’t such a distant dream, an implausible thought.

“What? No. We just had dinner once and he mentioned something about future dates, but you and I both know that was probably just part of the act.”

The words hurt coming out, but I had to admit to myself that they were the truth.

“Wow…I must say, I’m quite shocked,” Tyler finally said.

“Why?” I laughed awkwardly, unsure of where this was headed and hoping it wasn’t bad.

He was quiet for a few moments, seemingly choosing his words wisely, before he spoke up once more. “Y/N, you really don’t know much about him, do you?” he inquired, “I can’t remember the last time Pete went on an actual date at all, let alone to dinner. He’s not into all that.”

I’d guessed dinner dates weren’t Pete’s thing, but I couldn’t tell by how effortless he acted. He didn’t seem uncomfortable or awkward, in fact if I didn’t know better, I’d think it was an actual date. Above all else, he seemed like he was enjoying himself. The laughs and smiles didn’t seem forced, the conversation didn’t have a dull moment,  the atmosphere was entirely normal. 

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Tyler continued, “But all Pete knows is sex. Don’t think the man’s eva been committed to anyone.”

“Well, he hasn’t even tried to get me in his bed yet.”

“Huh…maybe you’re changing him.”

I desperately wanted to believe it, that I could somehow change his lifelong habits, but I couldn’t fool myself like that. All I could do was nod and mumble out a “maybe” before Tyler dropped the subject entirely, moving onto something of more importance than an unlabeled relationship that hasn’t even truly began and most likely never will. My phone went untouched for the rest of our time together, an apology for all the previous inattentiveness, but there was that persisting “What if?”

When he left, leaving me to my own thoughts and a phone loaded with texts, one stood out in particular.

From: Pete

Be ready by 7. I’ll be there to pick you up for that date we talked about.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Rare Pair Swap: Kendra/Len fic

Fic: Live Long and Prosper (Ao3 link) Fandom: DC's Legends of Tomorrow Pairing: Kendra Saunders/Leonard Snart; background Mick Rory/Ray Palmer

Summary: Kendra wasn't expecting Leonard Snart to be a sympathetic ear.

Or - and this is more surprising - a fandom nerd.

(she's always had a bit of a thing for nerds...)

A/N: for @terrayoung for @dccwrarepairswap, for the prompt "Kendra/Leonard; they discover they're the only ones on the Waverider that like something and bond over it". I hope you enjoy it!

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“Okay,” Snart says, walking into Kendra’s room with two cups and a thermos. “Let’s talk about it.”

Kendra blinks owlishly at him from where she’s sitting on the bed. “Uh,” she says. “I don’t really feel like drinking…”

Snart snags her one chair with a foot and yanks it forward, sitting down and totally ignoring her. He pours out the contents of the thermos, which are –

“Is that hot chocolate?”

“With mini marshmallows,” he confirms.

Kendra makes grabby-hands, even though she knows it’s childish. Mercifully, Snart doesn’t comment.

He hands her the cup.

“So let’s talk about it,” he says.

“About Aldus?” she asks. “I don’t want to.”

“Trust me, neither do I,” Snart says. “But I figure it’s me or that guy who keeps butting into your personal space, and between the two, I figure you’d be better with a stranger.”

“Carter isn’t…” Kendra’s voice trails off.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Snart replies. “Trust me, my little sis has dated enough assholes – or, more to the point, my sister has broken up with enough assholes - for me to know one when I see one. Why’re you still with ol’ CH?”

“We’re soulmates.”

“Not a good reason. Next?”

“Uh,” Kendra says. “We…apparently had a child together in a past life?”

Snart quirks an eyebrow at her. “That’s just a fancy way of saying soulmates again,” he says. “A concept, FYI, that I don’t believe in.”

“We literally reincarnate and fall in love in every lifetime,” she points out. “That seems like pretty good evidence.”

“No,” Snart says, “it seems like pretty good evidence that you were both hit with the same magic bullet and then consistently bond over the same shitty circumstances. Or are you saying that Savage is also your soulmate?”

Kendra shudders.

Snart smirks triumphantly.

Just to be contrary, Kendra says, “I mean. I guess he could be.”

Snart raises his eyebrows. “Oh, you wanna play, huh? Fine. Unlike you and CH, Savage has a magic sense for tracking the two of you down and he’s apparently been in love with you, continuously, for thousands of years. According to CH, you guys just bump into each other, coincidence-like, unless Savage gets you first, which means out of the three of you, Savage is the most likely to track you down. That seems pretty damn soulmate-like, if you take a certain stalking-like approach to soulmates.”

“Oh god,” Kendra says, making a face. “No. Stalking is not love. I volunteered at a domestic violence clinic. No. All the no.”

“So you’re clearly not soulmates with the other guy you meet every lifetime,” Snart says. “So why are you with CH?”

“His name is Carter,” Kendra points out, eliding the question.

“His last name is Hall,” Snart shoots back, unruffled. “And so CH is appropriate. Why’re you dodging?”

Kendra sighs. “I broke up with a really nice guy to go with Carter because I couldn’t give up on the whole soulmate idea, and now I feel like…I don’t know.”

“You put your eggs in this basket, so now you have to lie in it?”

“I’m entirely sure that isn’t the way that saying goes,” Kendra says. “But yeah.”

“That’s crap,” Snart notes.

“Yeah,” she sighs. “It is. But every time I think about breaking up with him, he keeps going on about how I haven’t remembered my past lives enough yet, and how we’ve gotten together two hundred and eight times before –”

“I know people who break up and get back together more than that in a year,” Snart says dismissively. “Has it occurred to you that he’s done it before?”

“What, Savage?”

“No, CH,” Snart says. “Soulmates is a hell of a convincing argument, and it seems like he gets his memories faster than you do. So maybe in your past lives, he’s done the same show up and sweet-talk shtick.”

“…possible,” Kendra says, then sighs. “But you’re telling me I fell for it every time?”

“Why not?”

Kendra rolls her eyes.

“Even if you are soulmates, it doesn’t give him the right to be a dick,” Snart says. It sounds like it pains him to talk about feelings.

Kendra narrows her eyes at him, belatedly suspicious. “Why are you being nice?”

“Mick made me,” Snart says immediately.

“And why did Mick make you?”

Snart rolls his eyes. “He gets weird ideas.”

“Like what?”

“He thinks we’d get along,” Snart says. “I apparently 'need more friends'.”

Kendra’s eyebrows go up.

“He’s known me since I was fourteen and four foot six,” Snart says. “He gets to do that sort of thing.”

“Heh. I bet you were a shrimp.”

“Says the woman with wings.”

“Wings I don’t know what to do with. Why does Mick think we’d get along?”

Snart sighs, all put-upon.

“Well?”

“You have a Slytherin scarf,” he begrudgingly confesses. “Do you know how hard it is to find someone involved in this superhero stuff that likes Harry Potter and who isn’t named Cisco Ramon?”

Kendra starts laughing. “No, you’re right,” she says, giggling. “Cisco – he’s actually the guy I dated before Carter – he said he initially got interested in me because I had my Enterprise earrings on one day.”

“Star Trek too, huh? Best captain?”

“Picard, but TOS is a better series.”

Snart nods approvingly. “Nice. Though I always had a soft spot for DS9, myself…”

“You’re a nerd,” Kendra says, understanding striking like lightning. “You’re a total nerd.”

"Tell anyone and I'll deny it," Snart says, but he's smiling, just a bit.

Kendra scoots closer. "Tell me what other series you like."

"Well -"

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

"That had better be alcoholic," Kendra says darkly, her knees pulled up to her chest.

Snart, who's just come in with another thermos, doesn't bat an eyelash. "Hot cocoa," he says. "But yes, it's Irish."

"I wanted to dump him, not for him to die," Kendra replies bitterly.

"And now you feel like you shouldn't have been ready to dump him."

Kendra sighs.

"Your 'But I love him!' wasn't subtle," Snart says. "Smacked of guilt, actually."

Kendra buries her head in her hands. "What if that was it?" she mutters. "What if he was my soulmate, and there's never going to be another chance to -"

"Actually," Snart drawls, cutting through her escalating self-pity. "That's not something you should worry about."

Kendra looks up at him with a frown.

"First off, that's the refrain of everyone who's been broken up with, ever," Snart says. “You must know that.”

"Yes, but -"

"Second, you’ve got less grounds for it than most."

"I'd think I have more grounds, " Kendra says, unable to keep from being drawn into the debate even though she knows Snart is doing it to distract her from her entirely justified angsty fest of self-pity. "Jointly reincarnating hawk-people is such a small pool of potential matches, you know?"

"Ah, but that's precisely the reason you don't," Snart says triumphantly.

Kendra crosses her arms and arches her eyebrows.

"Said it yourself; he reincarnates. We have a time ship. We can jump along to the next time he's at the age you find most attractive - mid-twenties, early thirties, maybe older if you like 'em that way, whatever - and pick him up then."

Kendra's surprised into a snort of laughter. "That's terrible," she says. "I can't just pick a designer version of him!"

"Why not?"

"I just can't, it would be weird!"

"That sounds like a you problem."

"Oh, man," Kendra says, starting to laugh in earnest. "Just imagine if we stopped everywhere along the timeline and picked up another set of Carter and me. We could be like Attack of the Clones."

"Now that would be weird," Snart says, wrinkling his nose, but there's a grin tugging at his lips.

"That," Kendra says with great dignity, barely suppressing her laughter long enough to do it, "sounds like a you problem."

Snart gives in and smiles. "Imagine that," he says. "If we did that, you could dogpile Savage. One of you is bound to get in a hit. Eventually."

"Now I'm stuck wondering why the rest of you are here," Kendra says. "I'm clearly the MVP of this team. Magic Savage-killing fingers and all."

"I'm not sure if you've noticed," Snart says dryly, "but Rip Hunter isn't the most competent of planners. More of a Han Solo than a Leia Organa."

"Nah," Kendra says. "Not even. At least Han Solo had luck."

"Maybe even the Force," Snart agrees.

"Oh, you've seen that theory, too?" she asks, beaming when he nods. "What do you think? Han Solo, accidental Force user - yes or no?"

"I'm of two minds. On one hand, it'd explain away the lazy filmmaking and add a lot more context - you know the EU at all?"

"Certainly."

"On the other hand, that inadvertently implies that virtually everyone useful in that universe has to have the Force to be competent -"

"Well, if you take the Force the way it's described in the original trilogy -"

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

Ray Palmer was flirting.

So was Jax, but Kendra's not going to lie - even if he was the only one trying his hand, Jax is way too young for her. She does, as Snart joked, like them older. Even Carter had been at least thirty four. Well, he'd said he was, though she suspected he was maybe a little older.

Not that it would've been a big problem for her if he was. It was just another example of him deciding for her that she'd have a problem with it, and acting in line with what he thought she wanted rather than what she actually wanted.

But she's not thinking of Carter now.

No, she's thinking of Ray.

Sweet, charming, nerdy Ray, who is totally her type. Sure, he's in his early forties - like Snart, a traitorous voice inside her head whispers - but she likes them around that age, when they'd either gotten over the worst of their personality traits or let them sink in.

Either way, they were a lot more 'take me as I am', which Kendra appreciates.

So she flirts back with Ray, just enough to see Jax withdraw from the field and give a small sigh of relief. She didn't want to have to talk to him directly about it; she wasn't a fan of confrontation.

Of course, she's on a mission to kill a super-stalker psychopath that only she can kill, so clearly Kendra is going to have to get over her distaste for confrontation any time now.

She brings that up in one of her late-night cocoa talks with Snart and they end up discussing the psychology of the reluctant heroes for three hours.

(As a real life supervillain, Snart has an interesting perspective on the subject, to say the least.)

Still, Ray’s nice. Nerdy, the way she likes it.

She kisses him once or twice after a mission.

When they're stranded together in the 1950s, Sara gives up on rescue almost immediately. Kendra inspects the area instead, because while she might doubt the crew, she knows that Snart would never leave her stranded.

Or Hunter, because he needs her to kill Savage.

Which is what she should have thought of first, damnit.

This crush is getting entirely out of hand.

"I found marks on the ground," she reports to a bickering Ray and Sara. Ray was objecting to Sara's means of getting them a car (illegally) which Kendra thought was a bit naïve of him. Cute, but naïve.

"So?" Sara asks.

"Two sets of marks," Kendra clarifies. "I think Kronos attacked again."

“So maybe the reason they ditched us here is because they’re dead,” Sara says. “Great.”

“You give up way too easy,” Kendra tells her.

Sara crosses her arms. It’s more of a teenager’s pout than a mature woman’s reaction, but whatever, Kendra’s not going to comment.

“At least this gets us time for you to teach me how to kill Savage,” Kendra points out. “And we have a basic idea of where he was, so we could try to track him down again and finish the mission without the rest of the Waverider –” Rip, mostly. “- interfering.”

Sara’s intrigued. Not much, unfortunately; she's prone to hopelessness and dramatic gestures, which tend not to work well with practical planning.

Ray, annoyingly enough, is slightly disappointed by Kendra’s suggestion that they all find a house together to wait for help. He spends most of his time working on a device to summon the Waverider, yes, but he also wants to play house with Kendra. He doesn’t seem to realize how awkward doing that makes things for Sara.

“Baby,” Kendra says. “You can’t get me lilies. Sara hates lilies.”

“I thought you’d like them…?”

“Ray. Sara lives in our house. I know you were trying to do something nice for me, but you have to think about the fact that we have three people in the house.”

Sara was currently masquerading as Ray’s unmarried younger sister for propriety purposes.

“I kind of wish we were a decade or so forward,” Ray says wistfully. “We could catch the first screening of Star Wars.”

Kendra thinks about how they’re eight years away from the first showing of Star Trek, six from the first Man From Uncle, and winces. “Agreed,” she says. “Who’s your favorite character?”

He grins at her, clearly trying for a bit of a swagger. “I was always a Han Solo guy, myself.”

Kendra can’t help but smile. “What’s your view on whether he has the Force?”

Ray blinks, losing the swagger. “Why would he have the Force?”

“Because he’s so lucky.”

“The movie doesn’t say he has the Force.”

“Yes,” Kendra says patiently. It’s not like she didn’t know he wasn’t familiar with the Star Wars Extended Universe. “But do you think he could have it without knowing about it?”

Ray shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says. “The movie doesn’t say he has it. Luke has it. And Leia.”

"Yes, but imagine -"

"I don't know," Ray says skeptically. "Over-analyzing movies seems to ruin the magic, don't you think?"

Kendra sighs. "I like discussing alternative possibilities," she says gently.

"We can do that," Ray chirps. "Say, do you think those monster movies - Attack of the Killer Tomato and stuff - are out yet?"

"Not quite what I meant, Ray..."

She eventually managed to get some discussion out of him, but by and large Ray prided himself more on knowing every detail of a movie - the lines, the scenes, all of that - than in discussing it further.

He also gets a job teaching in university, while Kendra is obligated to pick between garden nursery supervisor, librarian, and kindergarten teacher. And even those positions weren't exactly that easy to find, even with fudged records - being a black woman in the 1950s when you’re accustomed to the post-third-wave feminism and nuanced racial understanding (however flawed) of the 2010s is the worst.

Maybe she could get a job copy-editing in NASA and get a famous actress to play her in Hidden Figures; that’s getting started around this time, right? Ray would like working in NASA. Even Sara would think it was cool.

"Maybe I should leave," Sara says a few days later.

"You leave and by God I will hunt you down," Kendra says through gritted teeth.

Sara pauses. "You don’t want to be left in happy coupledom with Ray?"

"It's the 1950s," Kendra says flatly. "I'm a woman, and I'm black. Ray has a group of friends - I use the term lightly - that pat him on the back for being so progressive for marrying me, because I'm apparently, quote, 'really hot for a colored woman', end quote, and he feels like he now understands racism because someone said something mean to him about us being 'married' once. Once."

"...ouch."

"At least he likes movies," Kendra says with a sigh. "Replays of Universal Pictures’ monster movie series are my rock in these hard times."

"Have you talked to Ray about this?"

"A few times," Kendra says. "Not as much as I should; I'm not really great with confrontation, y’know? I made it very clear that we're not actually married, though. I'm pretty sure we're not even dating anymore."

"That seems like something you should be clear on," Sara says.

"I wish Snart were here," Kendra says unthinkingly - she's thought it so many times, it's almost not shocking to say, and she doesn't realize she's said it aloud until Sara blinks at her.

"Snart?" Sara asks, wrinkling her nose. "Ugh. Why him?"

Kendra's mind jumps straight to the way his eyes light up, soft and fond and passionate, when they're talking about the shows and movies they like. How he never raises his voice, no matter how intensely they argue, and how she learned more about self-control from him than a hundred of Sara's lessons in fighting. She thinks of his smile, hard to win but worth it, the stories he shares about Mick that make the gruff arsonist come off as practically cuddly, the fluid way he moves his hands, his cleverness, his face -

"Uh," Kendra says. "Well, he's a thief. We'd probably be living in a New York City penthouse or an island in the Caribbean by now."

Sara cracks a grin. "Oh, man. Unleashing Leonard Snart on the '50s would just be mean. To the timeline."

"But oh so much fun for us."

"We could be Hollywood starlets even now, with our deep pocketed producer forcing directors to cast us."

Kendra starts laughing, just imagining what films Leonard would force people to cast and direct.

Sara's not sure why Kendra finds it so funny, and Kendra can't really explain.

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

Despite their conversation, though, Sara does pack up and leave. She doesn’t give them a destination.

Ray is sad for her to leave, but Sara's not gone two days before he proposes they start having a weekly date night.

"As friends," Kendra says firmly.

Ray pouts. "Is this because you're waiting for Carter?" he asks.

"No," Kendra says. "It's because we're friends. And I've never lost faith in our other friends coming and picking us up, okay?"

"What does that have to do with whether or not we have a relationship?" Ray asks, honestly puzzled. "Is there something I can do -"

"Ray," Kendra says, putting her hands on his shoulders. "We're two cords with only partially compatible plugs. You deserve a wholly compatible plug."

"That makes absolutely no sense mechanically," Ray says. "But - I think I understand."

He's brave and tragic about it for a few weeks - apparently there is something worse than being Ray's 'hot colored wife', and it's being Ray's 'hot colored bitch of a wife that dumped him' - but true to form, he gets over it and they can finally start being friends.

"You propose actual marriage to me and I kill you," Kendra says sweetly.

"Maybe I just like looking at rings," Ray replies, grinning.

"Kill. You."

"Speaking of which, you haven't, uh, stretched your wings recently. Want to go to the Grand Canyon? We've saved up some."

"Hell yes," Kendra says. Removing the romantic filter Ray had been using - where everything was happy and wonderful and nourished by their mutual romantic joy, and nothing could ever be bad - was apparently necessary for him to start noticing things about other people. Like depression and misery.

Kendra's wings had definitely not been getting enough use.

"We should have a Halloween party," Kendra says. “I’ll go as Chay-ara, the Hawk Goddess. I'll get a cheap knock-off Cleopatra dress for it.”

"We totally should," Ray replies. “Can I be a mummy?”

Friends with Ray Palmer.

Who'd have thought.

Still, when the Waverider shows up, Kendra leaps in. "Jeans!" she crows. "Well-fitting jeans that don't cost a million bucks! A washing machine that actually works! Proper coffee! Ray, the Internet is back!"

"Movies," Ray says blissfully. "All the glorious movies."

"Where's Snart?" Kendra asks. "I've got, like, a ton of original edition Masters of Science Fiction books signed that I want to show him. Asimov, Bester, the works."

Rip looks awkward.

That's when she finds out Snart was kidnapped by Kronos.

But, luckily, their two years in the 50s had only been twelve hours for the rest of them, so there was still hope of rescuing him.

Or, as Kendra learns in Nanda Parbat, of him rescuing himself and them.

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

"Why'd you try to set us up in the first place?" Kendra asks Mick, sitting in the cell.

"What?"

"Snart said you'd forced him to come talk to me because you said we'd get along."

Mick stares at her. "Not exactly the question I thought you'd go with, birdie."

"Well, I figure everyone else has covered the 'what happened, why did you, why not stop' parts," Kendra says. "Also I lived with Ray Palmer for two years because of you. I figure trying a page from his book of the cheerfully, charmingly self-obsessed wouldn't hurt."

Mick snorts despite himself.

"So," Kendra says. "Snart, me. What was your goal?"

"You dating Palmer now?" Mick asks instead.

"I would kill him if he tried," Kendra says. "We're just friends."

"You use the phrase 'kill' a lot more freely now," Mick observes.

"You know what's good for murderous rage?" Kendra says. "Living in the 1950s and not being able to advocate for change too quickly, that’s what. Do you know how excited I was when Mary Tyler Moore started to make pants a thing? It was sad."

Mick is having some trouble keeping his face straight.

"You couldn't have even ditched us somewhere good," Kendra continues dramatically. "Mick. Mick. I didn't even have Star Trek. It was still six years away when I left. It wasn't even a twinkle in Gene Roddenberry's eye."

Mick is having a lot of trouble keeping his face straight. It’s not very Kronos-like at all.

Len was totally right about Mick having a great sense of humor.

“I didn’t even have Man from UNCLE,” Kendra says, throwing her hands up and pretending to swoon. “And I even missed all the good 50s movies! We got there too late for Singing in the Rain or Forbidden Planet or even The Day the Earth Stood Still. You know what I had? I had Ben-Hur. Ben-Hur.”

“Pretty sure North by Northwest came out around that time,” Mick says diplomatically.

“Ray and I literally threw a party when Some Like it Hot came out,” Kendra says flatly. “An actual honest-to-god party. We had canapés.”

Mick has to put his hand on his mouth.

“Ray wore a dress,” she adds. “My dress, actually. I was angry for days; he stretched it all out.”

Mick finally cracks and starts laughing.

Kendra smirks.

“That’s why,” he says, wiping his eyes.

“That’s why, what?”

“You and Snart. You’re both drama queens,” Mick says. “Figured you’d get along.”

“I mean, we do,” Kendra says. “We’re friends.”

Mick sighs. “Maybe it’s the time I spent travelling through time for the Time Masters,” he says, “but I just don’t have the patience for this. Do you, or do you not, want to bang Snart like a porch door in a hurricane? Possibly while discussing dumbass sci-fi television shows?”

“They’re not dumb,” Kendra protests immediately, then flushes bright red.

“Knew it,” Mick crows. “He does too. Go forth and get it on.”

“You don’t even like us right now!” Kendra yelps. “Stop trying to hook us up!”

“At this point, I’ll take the win.”

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

“Tell me,” Kendra says, curled up in Len’s arms. He preferred Len to Snart in private, apparently. “Do you two always solve your problems by beating each other up?”

“Mostly,” Len says, shifting a little so she won’t rest on his bruises. “It’s a bad habit that I think we’re starting to get too old for.”

“You think?”

“Hey, it’s worked for us so far.”

“Do you also regularly try to set each other up on dates while attempting to murder each other?”

“Mick said he didn’t kill me for two reasons,” Len says. “One, he’s confused and angry and doesn’t know what to do now that the Time Masters don’t have their boot at his throat, with whatever the hell they did to his mind.” She can hear the anger in Len’s voice, and only part of it is still aimed at himself. “Two, he said killing me before we got together would defeat the whole point of doing it.”

“He has a point,” Kendra agrees. “I like you alive.”

“Did you really give him photos of Palmer in a dress?”

“Yeah, we had a Canonflex SLR. Top of the line for the 1950s.”

“He’s still sniggering about it,” Len says. He sounds slightly bemused by it all.

“Good,” Kendra says. Mick and Ray were getting along surprisingly well; Len had been sneakily drawing on all of her parent-trap fic tropes to try to encourage it for the last week straight. “Now, please, for the love of god, let’s talk about something fandom that isn’t from the 1950s.”

Len grins – an actual grin, crooked and teeth showing, not his usual smirk. “Well,” he drawls. “If you ask so nicely…”

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

“I keep getting flashbacks to my past lives with Carter,” Kendra tells Len, because open disclosure is important in a relationship.

Or so Len says, anyway.

(Honestly, at this point, Kendra would feel bad not disclosing important details after Len’s excruciatingly painful list of “why you shouldn’t date me I’m an awful person with a terrible backstory”.)

Len blinks. “Okay,” he says. “It come with an emotional contingent that makes you want to get back together with him?”

“Yes,” Kendra says. “And it’s annoying, because I remember how much of an ass he was to me. But little Miss Me from the 1940s thought that was him being dashing.”

“Ah, feminism.”

“Past me had such low standards,” Kendra grouses. “So. Many. Times. You were right, by and by, about him always getting his memories back first. Did I tell you about the time he bought me?”

“He what?”

“Pre American Civil War, if you get my gist.”

Len makes a horrified face.

“Yeah, the whole ‘master frees you and marries you’ thing is even less romantic when you’re living it. I’m pretty sure the whole community thought Savage killing us was justified.”

“Awkward.”

“No kidding. Anyway. Just an FYI.”

“I’ll be sure not to hold it against you if you start shouting his name in bed,” Len says solemnly. “Say, which name will it be? Carter? Joe? Khufu? Bob? I’d like to think he was a Bob, once. Maybe a Dick.”

Kendra starts giggling. “Maybe I’ll switch it up each time.”

“It’ll be like an episode of Sliders gone horribly wrong.”

“Maybe I’ll do them all at once, to the tune of Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

“Syndey-Carter-Freddy-Lester-Eddie-Ali-Douglas?”

“Oh. My. God. That scans, you bastard.”

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

“What do I do now?” Kendra asks. “There’s a Carter clone. Except his name is Scythian Torvil – I assume he got beaten up a lot as a child this time around? – and he presumably has a whole bunch of memories I don’t. I feel like I owe him some obligation to break the brainwashing, you know? But at the same time, he’ll probably assume that I want to get back together…”

“Why are you asking me?” Sara says helplessly.

“Because everyone else is useless,” Kendra says. “Obviously.”

Sara crosses her arms. “Useless, how?”

Kendra raises a finger. “Ray thinks I should get back together with Carter because it would be a narratively satisfying arc.”

“Uh, it would not,” Sara says. “It’s only narratively satisfying if you put yourself in the guy’s shoes, c’mon already.”

“He’s trying, Sara. I saw him reading a book on privilege yesterday.”

“Only because Mick told him he had to.”

“Well, yes,” Kendra says. “Ray is ridiculous when he’s trying to win someone’s attention and interest and Mick is taking full advantage of that to educate him. I don’t see the problem. I should’ve done that.”

“Give yourself a break,” Sara says. “It was the 1950s. There weren’t any books on cis straight white male privilege yet.”

“I know, I know, but still. As I was saying,” she lifts a second finger, “Rip doesn’t actually give a damn about any of my issues except insofar as we stop Savage. Now that Savage is in the brig with evidence that he manipulated time, he’s super excited about bringing him into the Time Masters and getting both his family and his old job back. Question about Carter are just annoying to him.”

Sara nods.

Third finger. “Jax just starts running the other direction every time I show up, saying he’s not ready for this.”

Sara snorts. “Maybe I should do that.”

“You can’t; I’ve locked the door.”

“I like this new, assertive Kendra,” Sara says. “Very sexy.”

“Shush. I tried to ask Stein, but…well. He married his first serious girlfriend out of college and they’ve been disgustingly happily married science nerds for half of forever. He has literally no idea what you do with conflict. Or people that you don’t want to date that want to date you. He tried to compare it to that one time an undergrad developed an awkward crush on him.”

Sara laughs. “I assume you started running away at that point?”

“Got it in one.”

“Well, why don’t you ask Snart or Rory?” Sara asks. “I can see why you wouldn’t want to ask Snart, but Rory…?”

“I asked Mick,” Kendra says with a sigh.

“And?”

“He’s in favor of killing Savage now and letting Scythian go back to his timeline.”

“I mean…”

“Yes, I know it makes sense! I just feel bad about it!”

“What about Snart? He threatened by it?”

“He suggested a threesome,” Kendra sighs. “So I could see what I really wanted.”

Sara’s eyebrows go up. “Snart offered you a threesome with two hot guys and you said no? Is that threesome offer open for girls, too? Snart’s a dick, but he’s pretty…”

“I don’t want to sleep with Carter! Or Scythian! Or whatever!”

“Then don’t,” Sara says logically. “You can rescue the guy because he’s your ex and you don’t want him to be horribly brainwashed without wanting to get back together. If Snart’s not threatened, you shouldn’t be.”

“I guess.”

“But, seriously, let’s kill Savage.”

“Rip won’t let us,” Kendra says glumly. “See: getting his old job back. Consider us ditched the second that happens, by the way.”

“No kidding,” Sara says, also sighing. “Well, it was fun while it lasted. Are you happy now? Can we stop talking feelings and get back to hitting each other with sticks in a nice, emotionally stoic womanly fashion?”

“Yes,” Kendra says, getting up to unlock the door. “That sounds nice.”

“Also, seriously, regarding that threesome…”

“Sara.”

“What? He’s hot, you’re hot, and I’m bi!”

“You’re insatiable, that’s what you are.”

"Don't forget indiscriminate," Sara says with a grin. "Insatiable, indiscriminate - I need another 'i' word."

"Irritating?"

"Oh, you're going down, Miss Feather-butt -"

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

Kendra decks Carter – sorry, Scythian – in the face when he suggests getting back together after Savage is finally dead. Then she knees him in the balls. Then she –

Mick grabs her around the waist and walks away while she’s still wiggling frantically in an attempt to go hit Scythian some more. “Calm down, birdie,” he says.

“Let me go, Mick!”

“It’s not his fault Snart did what he did,” Mick says gruffly. “You don’t have to take it out on him.”

“If I hadn’t been so stupid as to let him live –” That part was shouted over Mick’s shoulder at a still-moaning Scythian. “– then we wouldn’t have been there in the first place!”

“Yes,” Mick says quietly. “We would have.”

Kendra stops struggling. “Mick…”

“The Time Masters had a plan for Savage,” he says. His voice is still too quiet. “Trust me when I say they wouldn’t have stopped once we’d succeeded. They would have kept going – and going, and going – until they got us all under their thumbs. And we wouldn’t have been prepared for it, neither; Snart wouldn’t have gotten him and Sara to a hiding place because he’s a paranoid fuck, and then we’d all be in their cages and in their chairs and back under their boot-heels.”

“Mick,” Kendra says. “You know – you know it’s not your fault, right?”

Mick shrugs. “I’m the one he swapped out for,” he says bitterly.

“Because you wouldn’t let Ray die,” Kendra says. “Snart understood. You know he did.”

“I know,” Mick says. “That’s why he asked me to forgive him, before he knocked me out.” He swallows, shakes his head. “I don’t know if I can.”

“He was your best friend,” Kendra says. “You were friends for thirty years. You don’t have to be sleeping together to feel bad about him being gone.” Her back straightens, even though Mick has yet to put her down. Damn, that man is strong. Kendra isn’t that light. “If Ray is giving you any shit about mourning –”

“No, no,” Mick says, cracking a smile. It’s kind of a pathetic smile, but it’s a smile. “He’s being okay. He tried to suggest being partners right afterwards –”

“He what.”

“I told him off,” Mick assures her. “He figured out the problem with what he said pretty quick. He’s being better now.”

“I’m still going to punch him,” Kendra says.

“We let you murder one guy and suddenly you’re all violent,” Mick teases, putting her down. “What would –” His voice cuts off.

He’d meant to joke ‘what would Snart think of you now’, probably followed by ‘he’d think it was really hot, actually, he likes violence’.

They couldn’t make that joke anymore.

Kendra’s eyes fill with tears.

“Don’t turn on the waterworks,” Mick warns. “I don’t –”

She launches herself at him, wings unfolding to give her extra leverage, and wraps her arms around his neck, burying her face into his shoulder, and bursts into tears.

“– do the touchy-feeling stuff,” Mick concludes. After minute, though, he gives in with a sigh, wrapping his arms around him and permitting her to wrap her wings around him in return.

Kendra lets him pretend that the wetness on her shoulder isn’t his fault. It’s the least she can do after snotting all over his sleeve. She's an ugly crier.

Oh, Len.

She misses him so much.

Mick tells her stories about him – he was black and Jewish and proud of it, she’d known that, but she hadn’t heard about the holidays that went wrong; Len had never had a chance to tell her about them himself – but it’s not the same.

She misses him.

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

“Uh, Kendra?”

“Mick!” Kendra exclaims, bouncing over to her door and embracing him. “What brings you by to my humble apartment? Not here to deal with a local aberration, I hope?”

She’d refused to continue on with the Waverider’s mission, afterwards, while Mick agreed to keep going. Neither of them had held it against each other.

He’d introduced her to Lisa, though, which had been nice. They were friends now.

“Depends on how you define it,” he replies, picking her up for a quick hug. He looks better than he did when he left – standing strong and tall and looking healthy. “Local, yes; aberration, also yes; not so much with the ‘dealing with’.”

“What do you mean?”

Mick coughs. “So, the resurrection thing,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“You know how Carter always got his memories first?”

Kendra nods, wondering why it was relevant. Scythian had caught a ride back to their era, insisting on being near Kendra; she’d gotten a restraining order and knocked out one of his teeth before he’d finally gotten the hint that she didn’t want him around. Lisa had threatened to gild his balls.

“Seems like that’s because you wanted him to.”

Kendra frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You’re the one who had the power of reincarnation,” Mick exclaims. “Not him. But as long as you loved him, he reincarnated for you.”

Kendra frowns. That would explain why he was always so irritatingly devoted to finding her, in every life. “Okay,” she says. “I think I’m following you.”

“Basically, you each got a power,” Mick says. “You got reincarnation, he got the hawk-powers, and you shared ‘em because you were in love. Savage got immortality as long as he stole your life force each time.”

“Right,” she says. “So, what? You’re telling me I’ll lose the hawk-powers because I'm not dating Carter-Scythian?”

“Next time you reincarnate, yeah, probably.”

“Okay,” Kendra says. Not ideal – she’d kind of gotten used to them – but fine. “I guess I can live with that.”

“Your power of reincarnating still applies, though.”

Kendra blinks. “Okay. Not sure I'm getting your point. Did you meet a future version of me?”

“No,” Mick says. “We met a future version of your boyfriend, though.”

“You mean Carter-Scythian?”

Mick grins, a real, big, broad grin. “Carter Hall wasn’t the guy you were dating.”

“No,” Kendra agrees, a little mystified. “I was dating Len –”

She cuts off.

No.

No, it couldn’t –

There’s a cough at the door.

She turns to look at him.

“Surprise?” Len says.

Kendra shrieks and pitches herself forward to grab him.

“We figured you wouldn’t want to wait until your next life to meet him,” Mick laughs behind her back. “Guess we figured right, huh?”

Kendra’s too busy kissing Len to respond properly.

He’s back.

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

“We’ve really got to do something about meeting like this,” Mick tells her. It’s the year 2455, the middle of the 25th century.

“Heatstroke,” Kendra says. “Heatstroke is a bad thing. Do not take it as your moniker.”

“It works for me,” Mick says smugly.

“I can’t believe the two of you are now time-travelling policemen,” Kendra grouses. “Willingly!”

“Says the woman who got reborn as a Thangarian.”

“At least I’m not going by the name Commander Cold.”

“Yeah, but you’re the one dating him.”

“Uuuuuuugh, why do I bring all of you with me every time I reincarnate, again?”

“Beats me,” Len says, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Maybe that one time we tried out the swinging thing did the job? Either way, glad that you do. Isn’t Heatstroke a great name?”

“I hate it,” Kendra declares. “I see why Mick picked it.”

Len sniggers. “We’re still looking for Ray’s reincarnation,” he says. “We’re pretty sure he’s a Kryptonian in this life.”

“You’re joking. Ray reincarnated as Superman?”

“Possibly Superboy,” Mick allows. “But definitely a guy wearing an S.”

He’s grinning in anticipation.

Probably at the potential applications of heat-eyes.

Kendra starts laughing.

This life’s gonna be a good one, she can just tell.