#impulse is waiting for his turn to wash his hat

[tf2-oneshots]

sniper shares weed with scout and they do stupid stuff and kiss (no sex pls)

Weed time

Warning: weed mention

Rating: Teen and up

Two joints are pulled out from a drawer in Sniper’s van. The Aussie pulls a lighter out from his shirt pocket, sticking one joint into his mouth to light it. The second is handed to Scout who sits in the van’s booth. Joints pressed together, Sniper lights the American’s before exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“This stuff gonna make us act crazy?” Scout inhales, letting it sit in his lungs before blowing out the smoke. He taps a finger against the table, impatient to see what the affects will be. Will they pass out? Try to make cookies at 2am? Have an existential crisis that leaves them freaking out on the floor?

“Probably. Pauling said she bought a fridge just to make a castle from the box.” The poor woman shamefully returned her impulse purchase with a fumbled excuse of it being too big for the kitchen. Initially, it was a great idea to bring her G&G game to life, except for the fact that she already had a brand new fridge from another weed induced splurge. That box was turned into a boat.

“Good thing I wrote down Spy’s credit card info.” The two laugh, tapping their joints together like wine glasses before taking long inhales. Sniper slides into the booth, welcoming his yank of a lover into his arm. Scout rests against Sniper’s chest as they wait for the chemicals to seep into their brains.

Twenty minutes go by. If you asked Scout if he was high right now, he would deny it. It would take him multiple tries and several tangents to achieve, but he would deny it. This doesn’t change the fact that he’s standing in front of Sniper’s dream catcher and staring into it.

“Bloody hell are you doing?” Sniper is laid out on the floor, joint smoked with its remains in an ashtray along with his regular cigarette butts. His vest was discarded from how warm and clammy it made him feel. He really hates being warm and clammy. Speaking of clams, he’s kinda in the mood for seafood right about now.

“I’m watching your dreams, dude. Crazy stuff in here.” Scout stares at the criss crossing white thread. He slowly blinks, mesmerized by whatever it is he’s imagining. His eyes are bright red and hooded, fighting to stay open. Scout doesn’t wanna pass out with a high this good.

“What?” It comes out as a stifled laugh. Sniper rolls to his side, chuckling at the thought of Scout watching all of his weird dreams. The fish people one, the one where he lived with a wallaby, and many more. Sniper stands up only to immediately fall over and cackle. He tripped on his own hat! Its only now that he realizes that he wasn’t wearing the damn thing.

“You good, babe?” Scout snorts, watching his boyfriend roll around and laugh. The strange behavior ends up causing his own laughing fit that beings him to his knees. He crawls to Sniper, falling to the floor as the couple continue their ceaseless giggling. They manage a few short breaths of silence only for their laughter to immediately resume.

“Stop! Stop, dude, I’m—I’m gonna pee!” Scout clutches his stomach and kicks his legs. At that comment, Sniper holds out one of his jars. This only makes his lover laugh harder and smack his hand against the floor. Scout practically screams into the carpet as his body shakes.

The only thing that stops their laughing fit is hunger. Scout takes out a cooler they had stashed earlier knowing how the munchies can be. Two wrapped hoagies are pulled from the ice along with soda and an iced coffee. Sniper sets several cartons of cookies, muffins, and cupcakes onto the kitchen table. Not even waiting for Scout, he takes a massive bite into a chocolate chip muffin.

“Gimme one.” Scout reaches for a muffin, but Sniper pushes them away. He continues eating the treat, ignoring how badly he needs a drink to wash it down. Scout holds up his iced coffee, taunting him with the bitter brew. He reaches out, but the American tries to snag a muffin! Oh, no. Sniper bought them, so Sniper gets to eat them.

“You’re so freaking greedy when you’re high!” Scout is offended by the man blocking him from the food. Are they not dating? What kind of selfish man refuses to feed his beloved boyfriend? Ignore the fact that Scout has two hoagies in his hand. He’s going to starve unless he gets one of those cupcakes.

After a bit of pouting and bargaining, Sniper relents and earns his coffee. He chugs half the bottle before taking another fat bite of food. This time into his deli sandwich. Scout somehow fits two cupcakes, his hoagie, and an entire can of soda into his lean body. Of course, he continues eating. He’s just so hungry!

When their meal is no more than crumbs on plates, the couple decide to climb to their bed. Its as cramped as ever, but it beats the floor. At least now they have a new mattress pad to soften the hard surface. The old one had worn down over the years, but the stubborn Sniper refused to let go of it until Scout complained enough times about back aches.

As they cuddle one another, they share soft kisses from their foreheads to their chins. Scout traces the lines in Sniper’s hand with his thumb while the man happily explained their meaning. While not one to believe in most mysticism, it was still interesting. Hell, if he can believe in dream catchers and aliens, what’s the harm in thinking a few lines in his palm have meaning?

Scout on the other hand was growing tired. Too tired to keep his eyes open. The hand rubbing his back was no help either. Although he tried to fall asleep, he just couldn’t. His mouth kept moving despite his attempts to still it, and his eyes just didn’t want to stay closed. Quite the conundrum for the poor man.

Weed is cool and fun -H

[robinofgothamcity]

♡ scenario: connor losing his mind when you're hurt and charging into the fight recklessly.

♡ pairing: connor kent ( superboy ) x fem! reader

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / i'm sorry but i'm living for these angst to fluff moments rn especially bc i rewatched reign of the superman and forgot how much i loved connor in it.

Connor watched as you were completely slumped on the side of the building, no longer clear headed and struggling to stay awake. what was supposed to be a clean and easy mission turned out to be more than what the league expected.

he had requested for back up and while they were already trying to fight off the thugs that were attacking Connor, he could still see that you were fighting to stay alive and he had no idea if you were even going to come out of this fight alive.

"what the fuck?" Connor whispered, seeing you now slumped on the ground. he turned to the person who attacked you, eyes fully red with no intention of holding back. Clark could sense his song was a second away from committing murder as he saw Connor charge into the heart of the battle with no game plan, just murder.

"SUPERBOY NO!"

+

you waved shyly to the group of league members as you hid behind Wonder Woman. you were new to the scene of sidekicks and had no idea how to even introduce yourself without sounding like a complete idiot.

"woah new girl!" you heard a male voice say as you stood in your place petrified. you had no idea who it was as Diana had yet to individually introduce you to everyone, "i call dibs!" you heard the same voice say.

Diana turned to you before grabbing the boy who was charging towards you by the head and tossed him back to Superman, "she's not up for 'dibs' Superboy. she's my newest apprentice and you will treat her as such," she threatened.

you giggled behind her as a few of the sidekicks introduced themselves. you knew them as the Young Justice team and although you weren't formally with the team, you figured Diana was training you to become apart of them in the future.

"( your hero name ), this is Superboy," Wonder Woman said, "he associated to the Super family," she explained as he pushed up his dark circled glasses and flicked his hair back, "pleasure is all mine," he muttered, shaking your hand.

you returned a tiny smile before she continued to introduce you to Robin and Impulse. you noticed how Superboy kept his eyes on you. you had no idea if it was because he liked you or he disliked you but every time you turned to look at him, he was already staring at you.

after introductions and the cliche 'your real identity is sacred' conversation ended, Diana felt it was for your own good to get used to your new 'teammates'. she wanted you to make sure you weren't uncomfortable around any of the YJ team even if that included Superboy.

"so, what do you like to do for fun?" Wonder Girl asked, sitting down next to you and handing you a bowl of popcorn. you shrugged, "uh, not much. I like to watch tv and read for the most part. no one really invites me to do things with them," you admitted, scratching the back of your head.

she laughed, putting her arm around you, "well that ends today! we should all do something fun! how about we go to the county fair? doesn't that sound fun?" she asked. you shrugged, not really opposed to the idea, "I call all the rides with ( your hero name )!" Jinny replied.

you smiled, following her and Wonder Girl out the door as Robin, Impulse, and Superboy followed behind you. Robin looked at him, "you like her don't you?" he asked, already calculating the minute Connor had fallen in love with you.

"well she's apart of the team, i'd like to hope we'd all like her," he replied as Robin shook his head, "no, you get what i mean by that," Robin pressed as he could see Connor's face fall with realization. he didn't reply but he could tell what he was tell Connor's real answer through his face.

as they arrived to the fair, they all booked it to the first food stand they saw. Robin offering to pay for everyone being Bruce Wayne's son had its benefits. you ordered a simple coffee as you didn't want Robin to spend too much on everyone.

"what ride should we all get on first?" Jinny asked excitedly. you pointed to the tallest ride, it was one of those high rides that sat two people at the top and had them spinning around, "oh I can't do that. it's way too scary," both Keli and Jinny said.

Superboy smiled at you, "I'm down if you are," he said as he grabbed two tickets from the worker, "cool," you replied as the two of you walked to the line, sweat already building up from nervousness.

once they sat the two of you and made sure you were both buckled in, you stared at Superboy nervously as the ride started up and pulled you up before immediately starting to spin. you stared at Superboy, screaming for you life. you unintentionally grabbed his arms, not realizing you were holding onto him as you continued to yell.

Superboy chuckled, finding your reaction cute.

+

after the months passed and you finally grew closer to everyone on the team, you were particularly close with Jinny and Superboy. you and Jinny shared a lot of common interests as she showed you how to shoot a gun and Superboy...well, everyone could tell the two of you were just seconds away from actually dating.

you walked into the YJ lair, sipping on hot chocolates with Jinny as the weather was turning cold. she was cracking some cringe dad jokes, trying to make you laugh as you tried to contain from choking on the hot chocolate.

"hey, where we yall at?" Keli asked. you turned to Jinny before giggling, "just doing a few errands we had to run before I had patrol with Superboy," you said, not really clarifying on what you both were actually doing.

although everyone could see how much you liked Connor, Connor himself thought you had a thing with Jinny. he knew she was particularly close with you and felt as though he was practically competing with her for your attention.

"do you have my phone?" you asked Jinny as she dug into her pocket and handed it to you. you grabbed your phone before quickly snatching her hat and putting it on, "yee-haw," you giggled into the mirror as Jinny started chasing you down the halls.

as you turned a corner, you bumped into Superboy and fell flat on your ass, "oh, I'm sorry Superboy, I didn't see you there," you groaned as Jinny grabbed her had and put it back on her, "you've yee'd your last haw," she said, making you laugh harshly.

Superboy's eye couldn't help but twitch as he gave you his hand, "ready for patrol?" he asked sternly. you looked to Jinny who crept away from the angry Kryptonian and left you to deal with him, "yeah, let me just freshen up again and I'll meet you outside," you murmured, going into the bathroom.

you quickly used the bathroom before checking if you had everything. you opened the door and walked into the lair's common area. Connor had yet to drop the angry attitude and everyone was eerily silent as you walked in. he grabbed you by the arm and practically rushed you out the door.

"weird," Jinny told Robin as he shrugged, "what isn't weird about him," he replied making everyone laugh.

patrol started extremely awkward. you hadn't felt this weird since you first started on the team and you had no idea what was wrong with Superboy since he wasn't telling you.

the two of you walked on top of roof, scanning the empty roads before you turned to look at him, "what's up? you seem bothered," you asked him as you both sat on the ledge, "seriously? you seem annoyed at me or something so at the very least you can try and tell me what's wrong," you pressured again.

he looked at you with eyes of determination before grabbing you by the collar of the shirt and pulling you into a very heated kiss. you were taken back by surprise but let him continue to kiss you. a part of yelled at Connor pulled you close but another part of him was still screaming at him that you still could've liked Jinny.

"I had to do that before Jinny officially took you away from me," your eyes fluttered in confusion, "uh, what do you mean by 'take you away from me'?" you asked, not knowing what he was talking about.

Connor sighed in frustration, "I see the way you're around Jinny and figured that she likes you and vice versa," he finally admitted as he stood up, not wanting to hear your response. you quickly stood up and grabbed him by the wrist, "hey wait," you said.

he stared at you, "I'm really not in the mood to get rejected ( your hero name )," he ran his fingers through his hair annoyed. you shook your head, "I don't like Jinny nor does she like me. we're just really close friends Superboy," you whispered, bringing him into another kiss.

this time, he was the one taken back but he melted into the kiss, all his negative emotions washing away as you continued to kiss him. he wrapped his arms around your waist as you him in closer by the neck. Connor was definitely not expecting this tonight.

"so does this mean that we're like....together together?" you asked playfully shy. Connor let out a laugh before lacing your hands together, "clearly. I can't let Jinny steal you away from me," he jokingly replied.

+

Connor ran to the three different henchmen as his strength was to the point of killing, not caring if he died in the process. he was recklessly dodging bullets, knowing they wouldn't do anything to him. he grabbed the first man and threw him against a wall as it collapsed around him. Connor only hoping that it did enough damage to unalive him.

the second one he managed to choke him out enough to the point where he passed out but that wasn't enough for him. you were on the brink of death and if he had to see you die, he was going to make sure the men who possibly killed you got what they deserved.

"SUPERBOY!" he heard his father scream again. Connor paid no attention to him as he grabbed the third henchman and slammed him to the ground, throwing punches left and right, "listen to me," Clark screamed at him.

he could see the tears coming down Connor's face as anger, fear, and sadness clouded his mind, "this is not you! pull out of it!" he yelled, shaking Connor's shoulder, "you're about to kill this man. I get that you're angry but you don't get anything out of hurting him. all you get it consequences and your girlfriend needs you right now more than ever!" he continued.

Connor finally shook himself out of his trance as he heard his dad telling him to go to you. Connor nodded and ran to you, seeing you unconscious and hardly breathing, "I'm taking her to the hospital," he yelled to Batman before hauling your body into his arms and flying towards the nearest hospital.

once he finally reached the emergency doors, he shoved everyone out of his way and to the front desk, "she needs help...NOW!" he yelled to the poor receptionist. the girl jumped up from fear but nodded and screamed for a bed and a few doctors.

the doctor asked Connor to place you on the bed before the doctor told him that he could follow them inside. a part of Connor wanted to straight up move the doctor to follow you into the OR but he knew that he'd get into more trouble with his dad and the MPD if he hurt anyone else.

for what felt like hours, he was waiting inside of the room they had told him you'd be in once you got out of surgery. he had already gotten the lecture from his dad about the consequences he would've gotten if he actually managed to kill the three men earlier.

"she's going to make it," the doctor told Connor as he walked into the room while they adjusted you to the bed. Connor nodded, "she'll be out of duty for months. she sustained a lot of injuries to her body that'll take weeks to recover and she got a nasty concussion so you'll need to play doctor for the next few weeks to make sure she's okay," he explained.

Connor nodded as the doctor told him that you should be waking up within the next few hours. Connor adjusted himself on the seat and got comfortable as he had no intentions of leaving your side until you were awake and ready to leave the hospital.

you woke up a few hours later, your body killing you from all over as you saw balloons all around the room. you knew you had landed in the hospital but you had no idea how long you were asleep or in a coma even. you turned to see Connor passed out next to you, his body slumped awkwardly.

"Kon, Kon wake up!" you whispered, shaking him softly. Connor jumped up in a fright as he immediately realized you were awake, "how do you feel? are you okay? do you need anything?" he immediately asked as you couldn't help but laugh at his frantic attitude.

"Connor, I'm okay, I promise," you whispered as you brought him in for a kiss, "my body just hurts and i'm still kinda tired," you murmured as Connor nodded. you managed to wiggle yourself enough to make space for him, "babe, it looks like you haven't slept in days."

"I had to make sure you were okay so i haven't exactly slept in a while," he admitted sheepishly. you shook your head, "you're too much sometimes," you giggled as you put your head on his shoulder, "but you love me regardless," he replied.

this was the first time the L word had came up in the relationship, "yeah, I guess I do but now you need to sleep," you said as you closed your eyes and felt Connor pull you closer to him, "I love you too by the way," you whispered, giving him another kiss on his partially exposed chest.

[magic-fandoms]

Some Days Are Harder Than Others

Hi! I...haven't written anything in a LONG while. I was suddenly struck with inspiration and motivation, so have this. This isn't proofread, it's just been run through Grammarly.

Not shipping. All platonic. Hinted 3rd Life/Hermitcraft crossover.

Word count: 515

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

The sun burned Grian's eyes as he stepped out of the Midnight Alley for the first time in what felt like weeks.

He doesn't quite recognize Boatem at first. Things have been added. Things have been moved.

Pearl's base seems to be almost finished.

Impulse's factory as well.

Mumbo's... armchair is coming along nicely.

Scar's mountains rise high above the clouds.

Scar.....

He pushes the memories out of his head as he trudges along the path.

He can see the other Boatem members soaring through the skies, undoubtedly working on their own little projects, just as he was a little while before.

There's a sweet scent wafting through the air as he passes by the factory. The sound of machinery drowns out anything else he may be able to hear. He takes a moment to stop and listen. The alley seems so quiet it's suffocating. It's nice to hear something other than dead silence.

His thoughts are interrupted by a familiar voice high above him.

"Grian!"

Shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand, he turns his gaze upward. He only manages to catch a glimpse of a red top hat before the figure crashes into the dirt in front of him.

Grian lets out a laugh as Scar stands up and brushes himself off. "Ah man, I thought I was getting better at that." He remarks quietly.

Quickly closing the distance, Grian picks up the hat and brushes it off.

"Hi, Scar.".

"Thank you." He gives Grian a nod as he fixes the hat atop his head once more.

There's silence for a moment while Scar adjusts his coat and tie.

That doesn't last long, however.

"Where have you been, man? We haven't seen you in like...weeks!"

The question he's been dreading. Where had he been? That much time in a dark cave... messes with you. How much time had really passed?

"Oh, you know..." Grian starts as he kicks a rock and sends it sailing down the path. "You get into a groove and get caught up in your work."

There's silence once more as Scar studies him. Grian stands there nervously, waiting for him to say something. Anything.

Scar only nods. "I get that. Speaking of which, I should get back to work. Got a new wagon to design!"

Relief.

Grian nods and offers him a smile. "See you later, then."

He barely manages to turn away before Scar catches his attention again.

"Oh, hey, you should come see Pizza! He misses you!"

Pizza.

Grian stops dead in his tracks.

He blinks in confusion and turns back towards Scar. "What?". That couldn't have been right, could it? He must have misheard.

"...You should come see Jellie? She misses you?"

Relief washes over Grian as he gives Scar a half-hearted smile. "Yeah! Sorry, I, uh...couldn't hear you over the factory. Didn't quite catch that the first time."

With an enthusiastic nod and a pat on the back, Scar replies "That's alright! Happens to the best of us!".

Exchanging one more smile, Scar turns and soars away.

Some days are harder than others.

[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (4)

(Y’all ready to read the next update??? Enjoy part four of this fic and if you’re interested, feel free to check out the mini series connected to this called the Journal Entries. It’s just little journal snippets from the two dorks that I decided to write for fun :D)

Ch.1 / Ch.3 / Ch.5

Chapter 4: Get to Know You

Marinette slipped on her white, non-flour-covered leather jacket and pushed her pigtails back so they wouldn’t be tucked into her outfit. She then smoothed out her pink dress with a smile, admiring the black flowers that she’d stitched along the bottom. This dress had been one of her stress-relieving projects, but it turned out quite well, in her opinion.

Once Papa had finished teaching her friends how to fold the dough, he put their croissants into the fridge to chill them and instructed everyone to go upstairs and wash up. Marinette dutifully took them up to her room where her personal bathroom was and taught them how to use the shower, but when she tried to lead one of them to her parent’s bathroom as well, they insisted that she take a shower there herself. 

“What kind of gentlemen would we be if we forced the ladies to wait on us?” Claude had said light-heartedly, though she could tell he meant it. Allegra’s smirk as she walked in the bathroom to take a shower first was proof of that. 

The notion had warmed Marinette’s heart, coaxing a giggle from her each time she thought about it. It might be hard to see sometimes, but Claude, Allan, and Felix truly were a considerate and chivalrous group of boys. 

Now, She’s finished her shower in her parent’s bathroom and gone back up to her bedroom, where Allegra, Claude, and Allan had been patiently waiting. Allegra was nice and clean again, wearing the long, purple shirt and black leggings that Marinette had given her, and Claude appeared to have just exited the shower, his damp hair sticking to his face and dripping across his borrowed, black and blue “O.K” shirt. Allan was still covered in flour.

Allegra smiled at Marinette from her spot on the chaise as she re-braided her long, golden blonde hair. “Thanks for the extra clothes, Mari! These are amazing.”

“Yeah!” Claude agreed enthusiastically, holding out his with a grin. “This shirt is awesome!”

Marinette glanced down to hide her blush. “I-It’s the least I could do.”

“We still appreciate it.” Allan replied.

“Oh!” Marinette said, suddenly thinking about the fact that Allan was still covered in flour. “Allan, do you want to use Maman’s shower? You don’t have to stand around waiting for Felix.”

That who she assumed was occupying the shower, anyway. The water was still running, and everyone but Felix was present. 

Allan waved a hand. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll be getting a shower soon if Felix would hurry up.”

Marinette chuckled at Allan’s obvious call to Felix, even more so when Felix shouted back from the bathroom, “You’re the one that let me go first!”

“I didn’t know you would take a day and a half!” 

“That’s still your fault then, isn’t it?” Felix shot back.

Allan scoffed and crossed his arms, causing Marinette to offer her parent’s shower again out of guilt. She had been the one to throw flour on him, after all.

“Are you sure you don’t want to-”

The bathroom door swung open, effectively cutting Marinette off, and Felix stepped out with one hand on his hip and the other hand on the towel that was draped across his head. He shot Allan a glare, practically growling the words, “There. I’m out. Are you happy?”

“Delighted.” Allan responded sarcastically.

Marinette might have been concerned about the growing conflict had she not been focused on Felix’s outfit. Or rather, how well it suited him. The black, three-quarter-sleeved shirt that she’d given him, along with the plaid green, button-up shirt she’d provided to go underneath, clung to his waist, revealing his surprisingly slender figure. The dark grey jeans he wore in place of his dress pants didn’t fit the outfit exactly, but they worked well enough, and Marinette eagerly started taking mental notes for future adjustments.

Allan grabbed his clothes and walked into the bathroom, while Felix glared daggers at him until the bathroom door closed. 

“Woah~” Allegra crowed, easily breaking the tension. “You should wear casual outfits more often, Felix. They really suit you.”

Claude smirked. “No kidding. I swear you’ve worn the same suit for the whole two years we’ve known.”

Felix turned his glare to Claude with a scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve worn plenty of suits, each one made differently.”

Allegra snorted. “That wasn’t.. That was not the point, Felix.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, the barest hint of confusion finding its way to his features, and Marinette took that opportunity to speak up.

“How’s the outfit? Does it fit alright?” She asked. Hopefully she can find the original measurements for the outfit if it does fit fine, because Felix was most likely going to become a regular customer. Maybe he wouldn’t hire her for actual commissions, but she might end up making something for him on impulse. (as you do)

Felix caught her eye, his glare slowly fading as he registered her question.

“The fabric is extremely comfortable, and the clothes fit perfectly.” He said after a moment. “You said you made these?”

She nodded. “With my sewing machine. I was thinking of putting a green paw print on the shirt too, but I haven’t gotten around to it.”

Felix hummed, idly pulling his towel from on top of his head to around his shoulders. “I see. Thank you for lending them to me.”

Marinette blinked, suddenly finding herself captivated by the way his hair fell across his face. Still being damp, various strands stuck to his forehead and cheeks, and he reached up to brush them away. This brought her attention to his face, which, for some reason, she hadn’t quite noticed before. The defined jawline, the subtle-yet-there cheek bones, the pointed nose- all of his features were sharp. Even his eyes held a silver tint to them that reminded her of steel. 

These observations dragged her to one, rather important revelation: Felix Culpa was actually a fairly handsome person.

“Marinette?” Felix said, drawing her from her thoughts. “Are you alright?”

A rush of heat swarmed her cheeks, and Marinette straightened. “W-what? I mean yes! Yeah, I’m totally fine, I.. yes.”

“Hey, speaking of clothes!” Claude piped up, graciously saving Marinette from her own awkwardness. “How’s my prince costume going?”

Marinette twirled around in her rolling chair and grabbed for her sketching notebook. A distraction was definitely something she needed right now.

“I’ve got a few different ideas, but you need to come tell which one you like best.” She explained as she flipped open the notebook.

Claude hopped up from the stray chest he’d been sitting on and practically bounced over to her seat. She let him scan each page, smiling when he started humming “Ooh’s” and “Aah’s”.

“I can only pick one?! But they’re all so good!” Claude remarked, almost exasperated.

Marinette chuckled. “Well.. I guess I can make all of them for you, but you at least need to choose which one I start on.”

Claude gasped. “You mean you’re going to make all of these for me?”

“It’s going to take a month or so to get them all done.” She warned. “But-”

Claude scooped her into a bone-crushing hug, briefly reminding her of her father. “Thank you, Mari! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!”

Marinette laughed and gave him a light pat on the arm. “You’re welcome.”

Her smile widened as Claude eagerly grabbed the notebook and ran back to his designated chest to look through the drawing again. It was nice to see someone who was also enthusiastic about fashion. She’d gotten tired of talking to people who simply didn’t understand the hype of creating unique styles of clothing. 

“You know he’s never going to leave you alone now, right?” Felix commented next to her.

Marinette offered him a glance as she said, “I think I can live with that.”

Felix shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

She smiled at that. Felix may be striking, but that didn’t have to change anything. Lots of people were striking. And lots of people remained friends despite that.

“Oh,” Felix muttered, seeming to remember something, “Where do you want me to put my clothes? They’re still in the bathroom because of Allan, but..”

“Uhm.. I think Maman said she was going to wash them.” Marinette answered. “She wanted to try to get them clean before supper for all of you.”

“Ah, supper.” Claude cut in, heaving a jokingly wistful sigh. “I can’t wait for that. If your mom’s croissants can taste that heavenly, then her full meals must be amazing.”

He sunk against the chest for emphasis, not realizing that there was a gap between the chest and the wall. The sudden weight threw the chest off balance, and it tipped forward, causing Claude to get jerked backwards. He flailed his arms briefly and yelped before crashing to the floor. The front of the chest hit the ground as well, and the impact popped it open, scattering various objects across the floor.

“Oh, Claude!”

“Are you okay?” 

The girls rushed to his side to help him up, but Felix shot him a flat look.

“First the kitchen and now her bedroom.” He said curtly. “Should we tear up the living room next? Or perhaps the dining room has more fragile items?”

Allegra rolled her eyes. “Felix, can you at least try to be sympathetic.”

“I am being sympathetic. Marinette doesn’t have the money to replace things at the drop of a hat like we do. It’s rude to behave so recklessly in her home.”

Marinette glanced up at Felix, not sure whether to find his words sweet or offensive. “Trust me, it’s fine. This chest is old anyway.”

Felix’s frown told her that he didn’t agree on the matter, but before he could argue further, the bathroom door swung open again.

“What happened?” Allan asked, his hair still dripping wet. “I heard the crash. Is anyone hurt?”

“Only my pride.” Claude groaned in response. He was sitting up now and rubbing his head as Allegra switched between scolding and coddling.

Allan sighed with relief. “Oh, good. You can’t hurt something that’s not there.”

“Hey!”

Marinette giggled at the comment. “Allan, how is your outfit? Do I need to make any adjustments?”

Allan glanced down at his clothes. She’d given him a maroon shirt with a blue heartbeat line in the center, a black and blue shirt to go underneath, and a pair of black jeans. He didn’t appear to be wearing the second shirt, though.

“Oh, they fit great.” He said, twisted his torso a bit to get a better feel for the new clothes. “I didn’t have time to put on the second shirt, though. I heard the crash and panicked.”

Marinette offered him a smile. “That’s fine. I can just put it back in the closet.”

Allan nodded and looked down at the mess. “So Claude spilled this chest?”

“Yeah, he was being an idiot.” Allegra remarked as she picked up one of the trinkets. “You know. Nothing new.”

“Wow. can you guys lay off for two seconds?” Claude huffed. He reached forward to pick up one of the objects as well, curiosity overtaking his annoyance. “What is all of this stuff, anyway?”

Marinette glanced at the miscellaneous objects to check- she had several trunks that acted as ‘junk drawers’ -and immediately cringed when she recognized a black hat with rainbow colors stitched along the bottom.

“Oh..” It was Adrien’s gift chest. She’d almost forgotten that she had it. “They’re, um.. They’re just crafts, really.”

“Just crafts?” Claude repeated, holding up a crocheted Ladybug doll. “These are awesome!”

Marinette watched them for a moment. “...do you want them?”

The group looked up in shock, and Marinette quickly added, “Y-You don’t have to take them! I’ve just.. Uh.. they’re like junk? I mean, not junk, but this is my junk chest.. Sort of. I’ve just been meaning to get rid of them. So if you want them, you can have them.” 

Allegra frowned. “Are you sure? It looks like you put a lot of effort into these.”

Marinette nodded. “Positive. Take whatever you want.”

Although hesitant at first, the group continued to look through the gifts, and little by little, they started to take some. A smile came to Marinette’s lips as she watched the pile of Adrien junk dwindle. She had spent a lot of time on making the presents, but there was no way she’d be giving them to Adrien now. So what was the point of keeping them in her room? To serve as a mocking reminder of how blind she had been while loving him? No thanks.

By the time they were done, the chest only had half the gifts it used to, and Marinette quickly decided that she would donate the leftovers once she got the chance. 

“Thanks for the stuff, Mari!” Claude said cheerfully, his hands full of various objects.

Allegra nodded, holding a few things herself. “Yeah, you really do spoil us.”

“Which is saying something, considering we’re rich.” Allan teased, pocketing the two items that he’d decided to snatch. 

Marinette chuckled. “You’re helping me more than I am you.”

She stood up and walked to the bathroom to grab the boys’ old clothes. “I’m gonna bring these down to Maman, but feel free to look around until I get back.”

The group voiced their agreements, and Marinette climbed down the trapdoor ladder with the pile of clothes in hand, feeling like another weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.

Getting rid of Adrien’s gifts was one more step towards happiness, and she couldn’t wait to keep walking.

~~~~~~

One can tell a lot about a person by their bedroom. How clean they were, whether they were sentimental, which things they found important- a bedroom could quite literally be considered a box in which someone stored their entire personality. That’s why Felix had been anticipating this part of the visit. Someone can be a master manipulator, but their room would always show their true selves. And it only took one look for Felix to know..

Marinette really loved the color pink.

Seriously, she had it everywhere. The walls, the furniture, the carpet- How was she not sick of the color by now? Felix was sick of it, and he’d only been there for about twenty minutes!

Pushing the pink thought aside, he continued poking around her room. Marinette had gone downstairs to pass his clothes off to her mother, so that gave him a bit of time to inspect the space unsupervised. Not that he was planning on doing anything scandalous. It merely gave him the opportunity of observing Marinette’s room on his own terms.

When she told him that her room was up in the attic, he’d been understandably shocked. The attic didn’t sound like a spacious place to sleep, let alone work on homework and other personal things. Seeing it now, though, Felix realized that that wasn’t the case. The attic was actually quite open. There was a desk, a closet, various chests, a bathroom, and she still had a good portion of the room empty. He wondered if that was thanks to the original size of the room or thanks to Marinette’s resourcefulness.

Her cleaning style wasn’t too bad, either. Don’t get him wrong, there were things scattered everywhere, but it was a specific type of scattered, like an organized chaos. He had a feeling that she knew where most of her necessities were. 

Felix moved to her desk, where most of the mess was focused. There were papers, sewing needles, scraps of fabric, and pencils spread across the surface. Her interest in fashion certainly shined through, as most of the papers were filled with various sketches and measurements. He found that admirable. When someone usually speaks of their ‘dream job’, they speak of it as a fantasy, one that they never intend to fully pursue, but Marinette was obviously reaching as high as she could to grasp her goal. She even had a mannequin in her room.

“Marinette’s room is so cool!” Claude exclaimed from the loft up top. “She even has a balcony!”

Felix glanced upwards, briefly setting the papers he’d been studying aside. There’s a balcony upstairs? He didn’t recall seeing a balcony on the way in.

“Claude, you have a balcony.” Allegra reminded him with an amused smile.

“Yeah, but mine only extends from the side of the building.” Claude defended. “This one’s on the roof!”

Ah, so that’s why Felix hadn’t seen it.

Allan frowned. “Really? Isn’t that a little dangerous?”

“It’s got a rail.” 

“Oh, okay. That’s fine then.”

Allegra chuckled as she brushed her hands against the hat on Marinette’s mannequin. “Marinette’s room is pretty neat, though.”

“I think it’s just Marinette who’s cool.” Allan remarked.

Allegra and Claude heartily agreed, and Felix nodded. “Cool” probably wouldn’t be the exact word that he’d use to describe her, but overall, it wasn’t far off.

“Can you believe we’ve only known her for a week?” Claude asked as he climbed down to their level. “It feels like we’ve known her forever already.”

“Yeah, but I think that’s just how she is.” Allegra smiled. “She draws you in and makes you feel like family.”

“Her parents are the same way.” Allan said. “You can really tell where she gets it from.”

“Where who gets what from?” 

Felix, along with the rest of the group, turned to the trapdoor, where Marinette was standing about halfway through. She didn’t have the clothes anymore, but she did have a tray of drinks.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Allegra said dismissively. “What are those?”

Marinette set the tray on the ground long enough to climb through and close the trapdoor as she explained, “Maman and Papa thought you guys might be thirsty, so she sent me up with a bunch of different drinks to choose from.”

“Sweet!” Claude grinned, swiftly walking over in case she needed help. “Do you have Dr. Pepper?”

Marinette smiled and turned the tray to reveal a deep red can of soda. “Yep! I know it’s your favorite.”

“You truly are a blessing.” Claude replied, grabbing the soda off of the tray.

Marinette giggled and brought the tray forward for the rest of them to pick. Allegra chose a pepsi, while Allan snagged a coke, and Felix grabbed the slim cup of coffee that sat to the side.

He took a sip of it, enjoying the warmth of the bitter liquid. It didn’t escape his notice that Marinette had brought up all of their preferred drinks. She even got his coffee right (Black with three sugars). 

Despite how scatter-brained she could be, Marinette still paid attention to details, which was impressive. Felix didn’t know anyone else who could space out during an entire conversation, yet remember the exact type of drink everyone ordered during lunch.

“So what do you guys want to do now? We still have about half an hour before supper is finished.” Marinette asked, setting the tray aside. 

Allan shrugged. “What do you have?”

Marinette thought for a moment. “Well, we have board games, card games, Mecha Strike 3-”

“Mecha Strike 3?” Claude perked up. “Yes, please!”

Marinette laughed. “Is everyone else okay with that?”

“Sounds great.” Allan smiled.

Allegra shrugged. “I’m fine with it.” 

Felix, being satisfied with his inspection for now, sat down on the chaise. “I’ll watch.”

The rest of the group huddled around Marinette’s computer while she turned it on, and after a bit of debating, they decided on ‘winner faces next player’ and started with Allan and Claude. Felix watched the first two games, just long enough to see Marinette cream Allan, before reverting back to his studious ways. He scanned the bedroom again, hoping to catch something new, when his gaze landed on the trunk that Claude had tipped over earlier. With everyone bustling around it, Felix hadn’t gotten a chance to sift through it, but now that they were occupied with Marinette’s game..

Felix shifted in his seat and re-opened the chest. It was only half full, as opposed to its previously overflowing contents, but that didn’t bother him. There were still plenty of things inside, such as shirts, figurines, hats, and other things. He pulled out a jacket and turned it in his hands, admiring the handiwork. The hood, along with the cuffs of the sleeves and zipper were pitch black, but the rest of the jacket was a deep red, save for the black spots that littered it. “Miraculous” was written on the back in cursive as well. Was this supposed to be based off of the Parisian superhero Ladybug? Why would she want to get rid of this? At the very least, she could make a profit by selling it.

What did she use to make this? The material is so soft.. Felix thought as he unzipped the jacket. It was completely black on the inside, save for some tiny, golden lettering near the section wear the pocket would be.

“To: Adrien

From: Marinette”

Felix frowned. How strange. Why would Marinette be giving away things that she made specifically for someone else? He dug through the chest some more, this time looking for names, and what he found was shocking. 

Almost every gift had the name ‘Adrien’ on it somewhere, whether it be a card or stitching or marker. Some gifts didn’t have a name, but at that point, Felix felt it was safe to assume that everything in the chest was supposed to be for this ‘Adrien’ person. 

That begged the question, though: Who was Adrien? And why would she create so many gifts for him just to give them away?

A small card stitched on the ear of a stuffed cat gave him his answer.

“Dear Adrien, 

Happy 19th birthday! It’s officially been five years since we’ve known each other. Isn’t that crazy? Anyway, I just wanted to say happy birthday (even though I’ve already said it) and that I’m really happy we got to meet. Enjoy the cat!

With all my love, Marinette”

Felix glanced up at Marinette, who was blissfully ignorant of his findings as she defeated Claude for the second time at Mecha Strike 3. Did she intend to use all of these as birthday presents? How many gifts were in there? Did she expect this person to have the same interests twenty years from now? He couldn’t decide if this level of planning was due to over-thinking or just plain obsession. Maybe both.

“Hey, Felix!” 

Felix flinched at the sudden call of his name, weirdly feeling as if he’d been caught in the act of some crime. He looked up to see Claude waving a controller at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to play?” The brunette asked.

“Talk to me when you have chess.” Felix replied shortly, going back to the chest. He had hoped that seeing Marinette’s room would provide more answers to her life, but it only issued more questions. Did she have this amount of gifts for all of her friends or was Adrien special? If he was special, what way would it be? Was he possibly an ex-lover? She dated him for a while, and they had a recent falling out, which was why she was getting rid of the gifts. That would make sense.

“He just wants to talk.”

Her words from last week resurfaced in his mind. The person who chased her that day was the only one she reacted bitterly towards. Was Adrien trying to get back together with her? 

Was he the reason she left her old school in the first place?

My, my Dupain-Cheng. Felix thought. Aren’t you just full of secrets?

Tag List:  @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce

[partybees]

my beloved | kanata shinkai x gender neutral! reader

—

the sound of a photo being taken went off yet again. though, kanata was far too occupied being enamored with the scenery of a lovely beach to fully care anyway. he knew he looked his best after all. he was used to hearing his beloved take pictures during the randomest times or during their dates.

...then again, this isn’t just some sort of date. his eyes that were closed in utter bliss suddenly opened and he put a hand on his small straw hat. a windy breeze flew by southerly and that newly brought hat would have flown away. but his state of relief was washed away with a rather strangely solemn feeling after he heard another snap of a photo.

“y/n, you’re taking an ‘awful’ lot of pictures today.” his beloved was none other than a grand photographer of their generation so he at least understood their impulse to take photos. but this is...this is supposed to be a day they have to spend together without any obstacles.

“there is never too much! besides, i’ll take any opportunity to test out the effe-”

“but this is our ‘honeymoon’. must you always be thinking about work?” kanata emphasized on the word honeymoon. he placed his hands on top of theirs. that stopped them from going through the pictures of the boardwalk, the dazzling shore, the fluffy clouds above and of course, their newly claimed endearing spouse. “look at how many pictures you have taken. this is supposed to be our day only!” he pouted this time.

“come on. just a few mo-”

y/n cut themselves off before frowning. they spotted the genuine hurt in his eyes despite that pout that always managed to tug on their heart strings. they looked down at their camera and then at the sea. it was particularly kanata’s idea to go one of the finest beaches abroad. he was really excited about it too when y/n agreed enthusiastically. now, he might be convinced they only agreed to utilize their photography. no..no that’s not what y/n wants him to think.

“oh my goodness......” y/n mumbled. “...kanata. i’m sorry...these are really just for memories! but you’re right, this is our day only.”

kanata smiled earnestly yet he still charmed them with that seemingly sleepy element he carried. he took off their camera that hung around their neck and placed it in him instead. he knew how this thinf works. he has memorized all the stuff y/n taught to younger photographers..trainees to be exact— when he watched them during their gigs. most times, he’d be their personal model.

“i thought you would put it away..?” y/n confusedly questioned. “fufu. it’s my turn.” he snapped a quick photo of y/n taken off guard. he earned a gasp and taken aback noise from y/n. “wa-wait. i wasn’t ready!” they exclaimed. the people at a distant looked their way from their frustrated complaint but looked away after a few seconds.

“y/n looks cute either way. now come along.” kanata went behind them and put his hands on their shoulders. “it’d be a ‘shame’ for the cute outfit you’re wearing to go waste.” he giggled. y/n blushed at the indirect compliment. “stop it..i thought you said this is our day only.” they retorted.

“i want to take pictures of you too.” he responded. once they were at ankle length in the refreshing water, kanata stepped away from y/n. they turned to the camera, preparing themselves for another picture. “one more thing to top it off.” kanata took off his hat. this is where f/n expected for him to place it on top of their head. instead...

smooch

they blinked twice, lips parting after they felt the softness of kanata’s lips. he had used the straw hat to cover their faces for that kiss. goodness, the way he affectionally smiled at them wasn’t helping the extreme warmth taking over y/n’s face.

snap

“ka-kanata, you really know how to surprise me!” they bumped a fist gently against his chest as he checked the photo he just took of his flustered lover. “that was nice, wasn’t it?” he asked. he finally slipped his straw hat onto y/n’s head. they pouted and ghosted their fingers over their glossed lips.

“yes, it was.”

“let’s go get ice cream after this.”

ah. y/n smiled at that. it was the sentence that started it all after all. just simple words that he told them to help them cheer up after a horrible day. wasn’t so horrible after they met, huh?

[averytiredbitch]

MK OC Randomness part 8... I think. Fuck it! We're going with it!

Welcome back to the shit show. Let's go!

also some of these jokes are from lamas with hats

Qiao Fu is my name for the Lin Kuei Grandmaster

Also some of these jokes are based off skits done by Moonkitti on YouTube. Just re-worded a bit

Nozomi: Hey uncle Shinnok! Do your old man voice!

Shinnok, in his normal voice: What old man voice?

Nozomi: Yeah! That one!

------

Nozomi: ooh who's this?

Qiao Fu: That's my old wife.

Nozomi: The one who died long ago?

Qiao Fu: The very same

Nozomi: *eyeing the picture* That's too bad. She looks really cute.

Qiao Fu: I'm sorry, do you find my old wife attractive?

Nozomi: Do you not!?

------

Nozomi: I wanna see my little boy!

Shang Tsung: *helping Meat walk* Here he comes!

Nozomi: *scooping Meat up and hugging him* I wanna see my little boy!

------

"Revenant" Reiki: WHY WOULD YOU THINK ANY OF THIS IS A GOOD IDEA!?

"Revenant" Michiko: Probably because I'm a dangerous sociopath with a long history of violence.

"Rev" Reiki: Oh.

"Rev" Michiko: I don't understand how you keep forgetting that.

------

Shinnok: Shh, do you hear that?

Shinnok: That's the sound of forgiveness.

Melantha: That's the sound of people dying dad!

Shinnok: That is what forgiveness sounds like. Screaming and then silence.

------

Shariah: How did you even do this!?

Meat: A dollop of fairy dust!

Shariah: Meat!

Meat: I ripped the tag off a mattress.

Shariah: This isn't funny Meat!

Meat: Who's laughing? Clearly not all the people that just exploded.

Shariah: I'm leaving! I've had enough of this!

Meat: But thank of all the perfectly roasted faces we get to munch on now.

Shariah: What? Why?

Meat: Because we're friends. And friendship is two pals munching on well cooked faces together.

------

"The bar was so low it was practically a tripping hazard in Hell! And yet, here you are limbo dancing with the devil!"- Melantha to Hotaru at a family dinner.

------

"Oh no. There are consequences to your actions? Who would've thought?" Krow to Raiden and Flamus, still pissed at them for completely destroying a village that housed the remaining nymphs and nymphlims their husband made.

------

Nozomi: I'm just here to collect Michiko

Qiao Fu: *tries to stab her*

Nozomi: YOU'RE AN UNFIT FATHER FU! THAT'S NOT EVEN YOUR DAUGHTER! YOU HAVE A HUMAN CHILD! WHO THE FUCK'S DEMON CHILD IS THAT! WHO ARE YOU STEALING CHILDREN FROM!?

------

Michiko: You are not my father!

Qiao Fu: Bring proof you are not my daughter!

Meixiu's ghost in the background: Bitch! You literally murdered her birth father!

------

Nyx: Get out

Reiko: Aww come on. Can't I check in on my favorite little sister?

Nyx: If you don't leave me my room Reiko, I will stab you. And when I do it won't look pretty.

Reiko: there's a pretty way to stab people? Like with a butterfly knife or something?

Nyx: yup. Handle and all.

Reiko: oh... OH!

------

Nemos: Greetings Thunder God!

Raiden: Eh? Nemos what are you doing here?

Nemos: I'm taking advantage of your guilt-ridden personality to get a head start on being a better realm protector while no one is looking.

Raiden: Nope. New timeline, new Raiden. Go- Go play with your sisters.

Nemos: I'll have you know I've lived 15 lives in which I've played with my sisters, and none of them have been consequential!

Raiden: *sighs* I'm trying to take you seriously. Really. But it just feels like an even smaller Shinnok is yelling at me right now.

------

Hotaru: *busting into the Sky Temple and picking up Nemos* My beautiful son, I am back from my epic battle of driving out the rebels!

Nemos: Tell me, man who sired me!

Hotaru: We were fighting when suddenly Soldier B produced a substance that burned through their skin!

Nozomi: That sounds like my poison...

Hotaru: Oh no! We'd never poison anyone. Only ambush them in the middle of the night, kill them through physical violence, and intimidate them in other wise orderly court proceedings. Poison is bad.

Nozomi: Have you considered maybe, asking him if he poisoned them?

Hotaru: Oh no, I trust him completely.

Melantha: *holding Discordia and Harmonia* But, what if he did?

Hotaru: *small whimper before glaring and shouting* Solider B! Come here and apologize to my wife for making her think about things immediately!

Solider B: Hi, what?

Hotaru: I said apologize to Melantha!

Solider B: Uh yeah, sorry for poisoning the rebels or something..

Melantha: Hey, has anyone seen Nemos?

------

Darrius: It seems one of the soldiers has summoned Melantha to their side.

Hotaru: *spying on the rebels* Gonna go see Melantha. I'm gonna see Melantha at the meeting. Gonna see Melantha. Melantha.

------

OB: I made a perfectly good Titan

Fuyuka: You fucked up my daughter is what you did!

Fuyuka: Look at her! She's traumatized!

------

Amara: Don’t worry, I have a few knives up my sleeve.

Leila: I think you mean cards.

Amara, pulling knives out of her sleeves: No, I do not.

------

Ermac: Bad things keep happening to us, like we have bad luck or something.

Zyta: Ermac, you don't have bad luck. The reason bad things happen to you is because you're a dumbass.

------

Zyta: You love me, right, Ermac?

Ermac: Normally, we’d say yes without hesitation, but we feel like this is going somewhere and we don’t like it.

------

Kristy: *steps on her glasses by accident*

Kristy: *inhales* If I knew that this would be the fate that befalls me and these damned glasses, I would've just let the fire reach my left eye and burn it out completely!

------

Megumi: I turned out perfectly fine!

Ayeka: Megumi, this morning you thought a ghost made your toast

Megumi: I DIDN’T PUT THE BREAD IN! YOU DIDN’T PUT THE BREAD IN!!!

------

Zyta: Stop buying plastic skeletons for Halloween! It's terrible for the environment!

Philomela: Yeah! Locally sourced, all natural skeletons are much more environmentally friendly!

------

Discordia, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him

Harmonia: You did WHAT–

Nemos: William Snakepeare

------

Discordia: Hey Harmonia,

Harmonia: Yes?

Discordia: Can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on?

Harmonia:

Harmonia: Where’s Nemos?

------

Discordia: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it.

Harmonia: Discordia no.

Nemos: Mistlefoe.

Harmonia: Please stop encouraging her.

------

Store Worker: Would a Ms. Philomela please come to the front desk?

Philomela, arriving at the desk: Hello, is there a problem?

Store Worker: *points to Amara and Zyta*

Store Worker: I believe they belong to you?

Amara and Zyta, simultaneously: We got lost :(

Philomela: I didn’t even bring you guys here with me-

------

Erron, driving Ash and Kamden: So how was your day?

Ash: We almost got surprise adopted!

Erron: What?

Kamden: We almost got kidnapped.

Erron: Oh, okay.

Erron: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

------

Nozomi: Welcome, fellow idiots

Kung Lao: Hello, Nozomi

Nozomi: No, no, not you, you're not an idiot

Kung Lao: You underestimate me

------

Nozomi: What are your goals?

Kung Lao: To pet all the dogs.

Nozomi: No, fitness goals.

Kung Lao: To be able to run fast enough to pet all the dogs.

------

Liu Kang: You know, not every problem can be solved with a sword.

Nozomi: That's why I carry two swords.

------

Sareena: Ok, maybe playing ‘whose family is most dysfunctional’ wasn’t the best idea we’ve had. Michiko's been crying in the bathroom for an hour. We can’t get her out...

------

Sareena: Do you have any skeletons in your closet?

Michiko: You mean literally or figuratively?

Sareena: Honestly, the fact that I have to specify...

------

Sareena: Michiko... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor?

Michiko: Your text told me to Satanize the house before you returned.

Sareena:

Sareena: I wrote sanitize, Michiko.

------

Sareena: You kill people for money?!

Michiko: I can explain!

Sareena: And all this time I’ve been doing it for free like a chump!

@deepinthefog @merplderpl @yuvononik @dontunderestimatemypoison @feistyfandomthings @toomanyf4ndoms7 @daddydestrey @tora-lotus @calcium1790 @starneko123 @dinogoofy @bar10du @cyberbloodgoddess

[minty-chocco]

ayla!! your blog looks v cute so far 🥺 best wishes for you and your blog 😚✨ is it okay if i request a scenario for mr rook hunt where he and his gn!s/o are baking cupcakes but rook, in all his curious wonder, wants to throw in some potions thus s/o tries to stop him while keeping an eye on the batch already in the oven? thanks a bunch and here, have a pudding! 🍮💞

𝑹𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝑯𝒖𝒏𝒕  🧁

Pairing: Rook Hunt x GN!Reader 

Warning(s): None.

Word Count: 1.4k words

Extra Note: aaaaaaa you’re so sweet anon thank you! 🥺💞 Sorry if this isn’t what you had in mind. Rook has an intersting way of speaking and I hope I managed to capture his personality well! I’m open to contructive criticisms~ Anyways, here’s a cupcake in exchange for the pudding! 🧁

“Here you go, little demon!” Sam placed the ingredients that you requested on the counter.

You checked each one of the ingredients seeing if he got each one right. After confirming, you gave the shop owner your payment. Sam’s eyes lightened up at the sight of madol.

“Thank you.” You smiled at the man and picked up the items to put it in your bag.

“Come back again~” He waved his hand before you exited the shop.

While heading back to your respected dormitory to bake, you felt a pair of eyes on you.

 You immediately knew who it was, of course.

 “Rook.” You called out to him glancing at the sides trying to locate him.

 You hear the rustling of bush and turned to see a certain hunter at the distance. “Mon amour.” He mused.

He walked towards you, footsteps were silent as he stopped in front of you and lifted his hat as a sign of greeting.

 “I was preoccupied on admiring you from afar.” He flashed you a smile. “Although, seeing your beauty up close is far better.”

 You waved at him. “Won’t it make any difference though? You have a pretty good eyesight after all.”

 “Non! I would be able to hold you if you’re close.” He replied.

You smiled shaking your head lightly quite used to this man’s antics. At first, he always caught you off guard on his sudden appearances because the next thing you know he’s right next to you.

 Of course, after some time you manage to adjust to this hunter’s nature. You would soon notice his presence whenever he’s near you just by feelings his gaze.

“Anyways, Rook, what brings you here?” You asked him while taking a step towards the hunter and dusted off the leaves left on his uniform.

 “Why? To assist you in baking of course!” You flinched at his words. The cupcakes were supposed to be a surprise to him and your friends in NRC.

You’re about to question him but stopped. It’s Rook after all. He probably saw you buying ingredients in Sam’s mystery shop.

 “If you’d like, I guess.” You chuckled. “Let’s head back to my dorm.”

Upon arriving at your destination, you opened the door outside of Ramshakle to invite yourself in.

 “Pardon the intrusion~” Rook soon entered behind you.

You two strolled around the kitchen and Rook placed the ingredients on the table. He offered to carry your things before walking over to your dorm which explains on why he has your things.

“It seems like Monsieur Fuzzball isn’t here.” Rook looked around to double check.

 “Nope. He’s with Ace and Deuce.” You took the ingredients out of the bag one by one. “Probably just messing around with them.”

 Rook helped you prepare the ingredients and collected the kitchen equipment to be used for baking.

“Let’s mix the dry ingredients first.” You suggested picking up a bowl to put the dry ingredients and searched the room for the measuring cups.

 “Très bien!” Rook answered. He seems to take notice of you searching for something being the perspective person he is and opened one of the drawers on where the measuring cups were located to hand it to you. (très bien = very well)

 You took the cups and washed it clean thanking the young man. “You know sometimes I think you know my kitchen more than me, Rook.” You admitted which earn a laugh from the vice dorm head.

 After some time, you were almost finished with mixing the ingredients together and all that’s left is to put the batter into the baking tray. Although, you two still have to make the icing.

 You decided to gift your friends and acquaintances cupcakes each so you separated the batter to give them different flavorings to suit their tastes.

 You put the cupcake liners on the baking trey in which you personalized by putting your friends name on it and drawing little doodles that describes them best.

 After the two of you put the first batch of batter in the oven, you gathered the remaining ingredients left to make the icing.

 “Mon ciel étoile” Rook called out to you while you were busy whipping the cream not sparing him a glance. “You don’t mind if I put a little surprise for the cupcakes, Yes?” 

This caused you to turn your head and saw that Rook is holding a little vial on his hands. “Rook no—”

 You almost dropped what you were holding in surprise and hurriedly walked over to Rook’s spot to take the glass vial out of his hands before he does anything reckless to your cupcakes.

“No, Rook, you can’t.” You pointed a finger at him like scolding a troublesome child. The hunter could only stare at you quite amused at your reactions.

“But you shouldn’t be limiting yourself about the countless possibilities you could create, Mon coco!” Rook explained. 

 You frowned your eyebrows upon his statement. Rook is a curious guy, you’re aware of that. He would often try countless of rash methods to feed his curiosity, even offending the infamous Malleus Draconia on purpose, that is.

 “But cupcakes are different, Rook. This isn’t an experiment.” You resonated with him.

 “Ma belle, aren’t you itching to explore? You never know what this could have in store for us.” 

 “Rook.” You firmly replied as a warning.

 After seeing your reaction, Rook stopped. Although he could be quite persistent, he knows when to stop as a respect to your boundaries. “I do apologize, Mon cœur, I do not take heed to offend you.” 

Now you felt guilt for being harsh on him. “I’m sorry but let’s not do that, okay? These cupcakes are supposed to be for us and my friends.”

 You heard an alarm in the distance indicating that the cupcakes are now baked which startled you. You walked over to the oven to open it.

 Rook offered to be the one who’ll take out the cupcakes so you handed him your kitchen muffins in which you thought looked cute on him.

 “You know Rook sometimes I wonder why I even keep up with you.” You randomly blurted out after he place the cupcakes at the counter to cool.

 “My, you wound me, trickster!” He placed his hand on his chest.

 “Wait let me finish my sentence.” You chuckled at his actions. “But you know what? Even though you can be quite a handful sometimes, I still love you.” 

 “Oh?” Rook leaned over you, eyeing you intensely. Just like how a hunter would look at its prey before attacking. “Such flattering words from you.”

Rook leaned more closer to you which made you panic by the sudden movement and grabbed the cupcake beside you in impulse to shove it on his mouth.

The Pomefiore vice dorm leader looked at you bewildered. Congrats, you manage to caught this hunter off guard. He tasted the cupcake that was rudely shoved on his mouth.

“Merci! This cupcake is marvelous. The exquisite taste that prolong on your mouth is truly spectacular.” You awkwardly shifted away quite embarrassed from his compliments. “Desserts like this are surely meant to be shared with your beloved.”

 You gave him a lopsided smile. “Then, let me try too.”

You took a cupcake from the tray and took a bite out of it. The scent of the freshly baked goods filling the room. “Mhm. This tastes okay. We still need the frosting though.”

Rook was about to say something but you interrupted him. “No. We’re not gonna add any funny ingredients there.”

“But I wasn’t about to tell you that, mon chéri .” You looked at him confused then you suddenly felt his lips on yours, giving it a little peck. He used his hat as a cover for the two of you even though there wasn’t anyone at the room but you two, for effect I guess. “This hunter is glad to be called your lover.” 

You blushed at his words. Surely, this young man never fails to make your heart flutter by his sweet yet sincere words. Even though this is a common occurrence for the two of you, it still makes you feel flustered every time.

 “You didn’t think I would easily let you go, did you?” Rook chuckled, placing his gloved hands on your chin to make you look at him, his eyes glowing lightly. “A hunter doesn’t let their prey off so easily.”

 Now it’s your turn to be surprised. What would you do, reader?

𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈! 🌙

[villainousshakespeare]

Putting it Back Together Chapter 4

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Adam/OFC

Rated M (will probably change to E) - Grief, angst, eventual smut, mention of characters dead before the start of the story, blood, slow burn, touch starved

Summary: Since the death of his beloved Eve, Adam had been barely living, only alive due to a promise he made to her. Then one night he meets his new neighbor, a woman dealing with grief of her own. Will they help each other heal or drive each other crazy?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish��doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere

This had not been part of his plan, Adam thought as he switched on a lamp and cringed at the disaster that was his livingroom. Instruments and musical equipment were strewn all over the place, wires and amps just waiting to trip the unwary or uncoordinated. Which, by everything he had observed so far, definitely included his companion.

"Sorry for the mess," he mumbled, clearing a path to the sofa with his foot.

"Don't be," Lilly smiled, looking around with avid interest. "It's exactly how I envisioned it!"

"Great," Adam rolled his eyes.

"Not that I've been envisioning it," she blurted out, face turning scarlet. "I just meant... well, if I thought about it at all, which I only did because I could hear you so clearly over here... and what with all the clattering around..."

"You expected it to be a wreck," he finished for her as he swept a collection of books off of the ancient sofa and onto the floor.

"It's cozy," she said lamely.

"If you say so. Sorry I don't have anything to offer you except water to drink. I don't entertain. Ever."

"Water would be perfect," she smiled encouragingly at him, as though he were a toddler displaying acceptable manners in company.

Which, he supposed, was about right. Fuck, he wasn't even sure if the water here was potable. He had never drank any of it, of course. He only used the kitchen sink to wash the cordial glasses from which he drank his blood. Fetching a slightly larger cup that he had found in the cupboard when he moved in and giving it a quick clean, Adam let the water run for a few minutes to help clear out the pipes. It didn't look too contaminated; he hoped he was not about to poison her.

"Here," he walked back to the livingroom and thrust the glass into her hand. "No ice, freezer doesn't work."

"I'd say you should call the super, but I guess that doesn't work if you're the owner."

"It doesn't really bother me," he replied with a shrug. "I'll fix it myself eventually."

"After all, you don't have guests," she said impishly.

"Right."

"Perfectly drinkable," she judged after taking a sip from the cup.

"Good. Now, let me see if I can find that tape player."

That was what she was doing here, after all. Why his invitation had popped out he could not fathom, much less how he had ended up bringing her back here that very night. At least this way he could limit the time he spent with her, he supposed. It was already two in the morning; not long until the sun began to approach the horizon and he would be forced to show her the door whether he wanted to or not.

Glancing over to where she lounged on his sofa, he was not so sure what the decision would be on that one. Her legs, stretched out on the cushion, were quite shapely despite her petite stature, and the red top just invited one to run their hands over it to feel the silky material and the lush curves underneath. And then, of course, there was her neck, long and white and begging to be bitten.

Adam swallowed and turned away. He  could not help but think of the last time he had had a mortal in his home, though it had not been this one. Ian, his supplier of instruments and all around procurer had been almost a friend, if a zombie could ever be thought so. He was sweet and harmless, and Adam had a genuine affection for him in a distant sort of way. It had been a horrid shock to walk into the room one night after sun set and see the young man sitting lifeless on the couch, blood drained from his body and drying on the face of Ava, Eve's feral sister.

Adam had always hated Ava, and that night had been the last straw. It was also the beginning of the end to life as he knew it. Within hours he had tossed her out on her skinny ass, disposed of poor Ian's body, and was on a flight with Eve to Tangier, where she was destined to drink tainted blood and die. All because Ava had sucked Ian dry. All the more reason to hate his late wife's bitch of a sister.

Still, looking at Lilly stretching herself out, he could understand a little better how Ian had come to die. Ava had whined to them about how cute he had been, how she couldn't resist. At the time he had scorned such a thing as a pathetic lack of self control. He still did to a large extent, but at last he knew the urge. Not just the urge to feed, an impulse they all shared, but an urge to take a human in such an intimate embrace. When Eve was alive it would never have occurred to him, he had had her for such connections, he needed no one else. Now though, alone and untouched for years, he longed to feel Lilly's smooth skin against his mouth, to hear her gasp and sigh as he ran his lips over her neck.

Not that he would ever drain her, of course. He was not such a monster. He would not even drink from her. To do so would expose his true nature, and that would mean relocating again, as well as putting her life in danger.

No, he would do her this one favor, and then he would return to seclusion. He would make sure that he left through the basement when absolutely necessary so that she did not hear him, would otherwise stay inside so that their paths would cease to cross. It would be better for them both.

"Here it is," he mumbled with satisfaction. "Give me a moment to set it up."

"Take your time," she said happily.

Glancing over, Adam saw that she had given up lounging and was now coiling up all of guitar cables into neat rounds. He had to admit that she did a good job - they were neither too tight so as to damage the wires nor too loose so as to unravel as soon as she walked away. With a shrug of his shoulders he allowed her to continue. The cables could use sorting, and he was certainly not inclined to the task.

"Sorry," she said with a blush as she caught him staring. "I warned you, I fidget. I seem to always need something to do with my hands."

He could think of several things she could do to keep her hands busy, he thought. God, what was wrong with him? Was he really so touch starved?

"Where's the tape?" he finally asked

She leapt up from where she had been sitting, breasts bouncing as she did, and almost reverently handed him the box containing her Grandmother's recordings. Adam turned back around, discreetly adjusting himself as he did. He carefully placed the spool in his machine, grateful for something to occupy him until he got himself under control.

After a short series of clicks and static while the tape began to unreel, a scratchy blare of a trumpet began to waft through the air, soon joined by a piano and soft brushes on drums. Adam was taken back to a different era. A time when he had circulated more among the general population of humans. Women wore dresses and hats, men suits and ties, and a sophisticated style permeated the music scene. He had forgotten how much he enjoyed that era, the end of the 40s and beginning of the 50s. Between his excitement at the recent technological advances and his nostalgia for the old days of the height of classical composition, Adam sometimes forgot the joy and sorrow, the feeling that jazz could evoke.

When the voice, low, smooth, and heavy with emotion, slid in like honey, he looked instinctively to Lilly. Her mouth was open, shaped with a hint of smile at the corners. Her eyes blinked quickly, struggling he was sure to hold back tears. This would be the first time, he supposed, that he had heard her Grandmother sing since she had died. Even without the connection to the woman, Adam himself was moved by the song. He was struck by how strong Lilly was being, listening and holding back her tears.

Moving one step towards her, Adam opened his arms. With a catch of indrawn breath Lilly took two steps of her own and for the second time buried her face against his chest. It was so different thought, he thought as his arms came around her. That first night on the roof, she had been some annoying zombie woman, pushing herself in where she was not wanted. Her blubbering all over him had been almost violent in the way she sobbed and clutched at him. Now, she simply melted against him, and he gently stroked her back as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

The song ended and another began, this one he remembered. It had been a huge hit, still was sung every so often, covered by lesser vocalists. Lilly's Grandmother was not one of those. She was a true artist.

"There's a somebody I'm longing to see, I hope that he turns out to be Someone to watch over me..."

As the music continued, Adam found himself swaying to it, bringing Lilly along with him. She was stiff at first in his arms when he began to dance with her, but when she realized what he was doing she relaxed and allowed herself to feel the rhythm. She would never be a natural dancer, and she was clearly still in her head, but there was something sweet about that. She tried so hard at everything. Tried to be strong, tried to keep busy, tried to learn, tried to be happy.

When was the last time he had been happy, Adam wondered. When was the last time he had even tried? Not since Eve, certainly. Before that, he was unsure. There were moments, of course, even at the end with her when he had been so. He loved her with an enduring passion. But he had been going through the motions for decades, shutting himself off from the world around him. Ian had been practically his only connection to it.

Pulling back a bit, he spun Lilly about and half smiled at her. It felt strange to smile even that much. Muscles he had not used in forever only half remembered how to work. He had always had a brooding nature, but of late it had become harsh even for him.

They kept dancing until the tape ended, adjusting to the tempo and style of each song. It felt so good to lose himself in someone else's music for a change. To hold someone, to connect with someone. She was right, what she had said earlier that night. Music required no discussion, no messy dialogue. You could just feel it, let it move through you. And where there was someone else there, someone who even if not a musician herself clearly had an ear and more to the point a soul for it, to share it with it could be a profound experience.

When at last the song ended, Adam and Lilly's eyes met and something deeper than a smile passed between them. It was sad and joyful and required no words. They both collapsed on the sofa, Adam pulling her into the crook of his arm as he sat sprawled and tired. Lilly's legs were curled under her and she rested her head against his chest. He could feel the rise and fall of breathing, fast at first from the exertion of dancing, begin to slow. It was some time later that he realized she had fallen asleep on him.

How strange, he thought, that she should be so comfortable with him that she could so easily drift off. He had perfected the art of scaring people off, and yet this tiny woman had tenaciously refused to be run off. She seemed to trust him, even, had shared something deeply personal with him.

The sun would be up soon. He should wake her, he knew. Yet, looking at how peaceful she looked he could not bring himself to do so. Gently, Adam slid out from beneath her, lowering her head down onto a convenient throw pillow. He foraged about until he found a blanket on an armchair and draped it over her, tucking her in. Lilly sighed and burrowed deeper into the sofa, a light sigh escaping her lips.

Taking one last look, he made sure the curtains were drawn, turned off the light, and headed to his bedroom. Things would go back to normal tomorrow; they had too. But let them both sleep peacefully today.

***

Lilly scrunched her eyes and stretched a bit, trying to wriggle away from a hard lump she could feel under her left side. What had she left on her bed that was poking into her with such insistency. Feeling under her blindly, she pulled out something long and wooden. A drumstick? How on earth had that ended up in her bed? And why did the mattress feel like velvet?

As she emerged from the fog of sleep, Lilly came to the sudden realization that she was not, in fact, in her own bed.

Sitting up, she felt a smile cross her face that was lit from within. Last night had been a good night. She had reconnected with some old friends, and maybe even made a new one. Twenty-four hours ago Lilly would have thought the possibility of a friendship with Adam a fantasy at best, delusion more likely. And yet he had approached her, he had accepted her invitation to the club, and he had issued an invitation of his own that led her back to his apartment.

Oh, not that Lilly was crazy enough to think that he meant anything more by it than friendship. She was not the type of woman that brooding musicians stayed up composing love songs for. She was the type who hounded them with her insistent chirping until they finally relented and occasionally allowed them inside, like the mangy cat you gave milk to once who would forever after haunted your door. She was fine with that, she told herself. He had been a friend when she needed one, lending her an arm to dance with and a shoulder to lean on when she needed it most.

He had also, it seemed from the blanket draped around her, tucked her in. Her grin widened. Despite how hard he tried to cultivate his grumpy persona, Adam had could not hide the sweet kindness in his nature from her any longer. She had felt it as he had held her last night, and later when they danced.

That had been something she would not soon forget. Lilly was too tense as a rule to be graceful, but Adam was such a strong leader that she had stopped worrying about his poor toes and let herself simply enjoy. His body had been a continuation of the music, feeling it to the tips of his fingers and the ends of his hair it seemed. All loose and yet firm where his hand lay on her back, he had guided her flawlessly, swaying to the sound.

All in all, it had been a far better send off for her grandmother than the stuffy funeral planned by her father. The old woman would have enjoyed last night, Lilly knew, and she would have enjoyed Adam. Beyond the shared love of music, his sharp tongue and kind heart would have been just to her liking.

Not wanting to send her mind down fruitless paths, Lilly stood up to get a better look at the room. It really was exactly how she had imagined it, if not more so. Every flat surface from the floor to the mismatched furniture was covered in instruments, sound equipment, mechanisms for which she had no names, and the odd notebook or staff paper. Three of the walls were covered in sound proofing foam, the third in an odd collection of portraits. Looking at them, Lilly found scientists, authors, artists, philosophers, all sorts of creative and intellectual types. She made a game of naming them all, only coming up blank on two (although three more were guesses), and trying to decipher meaning from who was present and who absent. Somewhere in there, she was sure, was the secret to his mind's inner working.

Part way through her perusal, Lilly realized that nature was calling. Assuming the layout to his home was similar to hers, she made her way as quietly as she could up the creaky staircase. Once at the top, she was greeted with a long hallway, three doors on each side.

The first door she tried opened into a room dominated by a large drum kit. Scattered about around it were a music store's worth of other percussive instruments. Some day, she thought, she would like to come back and play in here, to see if she could bang out some of her inner frustration. It must be as good as therapy in some ways!

As she opened the second door an avalanche of what she thought were rugs or tapestries of some sort threatened to come spilling out and bury her. She quickly leaned all of her weight against it to close it shut again, hoping she hadn't disturbed anything expensive and moved on to the third door.

Lilly forgot how to breath as she opened it. There, spread out on a large bed covered in pillows, lay Adam, completely naked.

Lilly knew she needed to quickly exit, closing the door behind her, but she could not seem to make her limbs obey her. If Michelangelo had wanted a model for his David, he could have used him, she thought. Adam lay on his stomach, face buried in a pillow. While this luckily or unfortunately (she could not decide) preserved some of his modesty, there was still quite a bit on display to appreciate.

Broad, well muscled shoulders and back gleamed pale, contrasting against the dark of his hair where it fell. His waist segued gorgeously into a pair of slender hips and - dear lord, there should be a law! - a perfectly firm and round ass that Lilly would have given her right hand to squeeze. Long, lean legs seemed to go on for days, and actually fell off the bed before reaching his gigantic feet. A mischievous part of Lilly felt the urge to reach out and tickle them, and she actively clasped her hands behind her back to keep from acting on this awful impulse.

Had she really tried to convince herself, just moments before, that she was perfectly happy to just be his friend? If so, she had been deluding herself. Oh, she would take what she could get, but Lilly knew in that moment that she would go to her grave ruined for anyone else.

As she stood staring unabashedly at him, Adam mumbled something incomprehensible into the pillow. Lilly started to make for the door, but his head turned towards her and she realized he was still asleep. Cautiously, she lingered a moment longer, watching as he reached out to the other side of the bed, as though searching for something not there.

"Eve," he said, clearly this time. "Baby, I miss you."

Someone had reached into Lilly's chest and crushed her heart between their fist.

She had no idea why it had never occurred to her that he might have a lover, or even a wife. He was beyond gorgeous, brilliantly talented, and obviously had money. Anyone would want him. Why should she assume that just because there was no woman here at this moment he was single?

And yet, clearly, she had. The raw emotion in his voice, the need as he called the woman's name had been all it took to destroy her heart.

Following the direction he was facing, Lilly realized that in this room of dirty laundry and bedding, one picture stood out like a beacon. Placed on the table next to the bed where it could clearly be seen was a photo of Adam and a woman of ethereal beauty. She was not "pretty" in a conventional way, but had something far beyond that. Almost as tall as he was, and perhaps even paler, she was stunning in a cream colored suite with yellow gold hair. Adam had his arms twined around her center, and looked at her with such love in his eyes that it was unmistakable.

Forgetting her need for the bathroom, Lilly bolted out of the room and down the stairs. She needed to get out of here. Away from the perfect man who she was afraid she had already fallen for and the perfect woman who was clearly everything Lilly was not. Including it now became clear, the one that Adam wanted.

[virgil-writes]

ash & soot

Long before the Winters come into play, a monster stalks the Forbidden Forest that surrounds the Village. Karl Heisenberg is sent to investigate, and heads deeper into darkness to find his prey, a thorn on his side and someone just like him. (Heisenberg x OC)

on AO3: chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven (ao3 only)

chapter 6 - the spork

SFW, but usual blood/gore warning. around 2.7K words.

chapter 7 - shower thoughts

on ao3 only, to avoid tangling with tumblr's nip ban rules. contains naughty things.

Why was it he had let her live again? Heisenberg couldn’t help but wonder, making his way across the bridge that led to the factory. The pot of stew felt heavy in his hands, heavy and warm; a pleasantry, not a threat, despite his impulsive behavior. What puzzled him, really, was that she seemed so comfortable in the face of animosity, like an aggressive man invading her home and threatening to kill her was just part of a humdrum day. He had thought the illusions and ominous offers were meant to lure passersby in, to drain them of blood and use their skin and bones for sordid rituals. He had gone through it all because he was certain nothing could kill him, even if it tried, but no violence came from her. Was she trying to keep people out?

There was no trace of blood on his face, no trace that he had ever broken his nose in such a ridiculous manner, no trace that he had ever been bitten by a half-dead lycan. She had been the only witness, and he doubted she would bother entering the village to spread the news. He would go as far as saying she was happy to see him, his restraint a breath of fresh air in what he could imagine was a violent existence. He would know; they both had that look in their eyes, the look of someone drained of life because they had seen too much, done too much.

Power, he cut himself off when his thoughts had started leaning too much towards emotions. Power, that was the reason he had let her live. She was a cyphered book, an old witch’s grimoire locked away in a dusty tower. He had treaded dangerous waters and climbed through the window holding onto unsteady stones, and had only been given a glimpse, a quick look at the first page. And what he had seen was intriguing, dark and mysterious, so alien compared to his parasite-infested, mold-ridden world. Power and curiosity, nothing more.

As if on cue, the front gate’s buzzer went off, the whirring sound reminding him of the old American game shows he used to watch as a child. Wrong answer.

“Oh, fine.” He grunted in exasperation, free hand thrown in the air in defeat. “I liked her.” The words felt like soap in his mouth, a punishment for his profanity and transgressions. But there was no mother to wash out his mouth anymore, to keep him quiet and obedient. It felt good to say it, good to admit it. He was no machine; he may no longer be simply a man, but he still had his humanity well rooted within him. Or at least he liked to think so.

He liked her, he repeated, an awkward wave of relief washing over him. Not in a sit and commit sort of way, though, he wasn’t about to run back to her cabin come morning with a fancy ring to put on her finger. Hell, not even in a hit it and quit it way, either. The enigma of her existence was intoxicating, a lonely witch living in the woods of powers untold, his very own little secret. His own puppet to manipulate, another tool in his arsenal against Big Bird Bitch, if all went well. What a great find, his chest swelling with pride at his masterful move.

And she did seem to take a liking to him, modesty be damned.

The garage doors greeted him with the familiar screech of metal, a cloud of soot and hot air blowing out into the yard, like a nice warm hug from his beloved metal beast, like it wanted to congratulate him on a job well done. Though there was little need for such precautions, Heisenberg checked the locks, scanned the room for any suspicious activity. Everything in place, every last bit of scrap metal thrown carelessly to the side exactly where he had left it. The factory was quiet enough at this hour, and you would have to pay close attention to hear the haulers walking to and fro, their rare vocalizations every now and then. He was in high spirits and there was much work to do, improving Eins and Zwei, setting aside some time to study Sturm’s case and prepare accordingly. And then there was the planning, the pouring over reports of the latest events, coming up with the best strategy to take out each of his precious “siblings”, wedging his beautiful little hag in just the perfect place within his plans.

The complexity of it all was a marvel to him, a puzzle he never got tired of putting together. He supposed he had Miranda to thank for that, for turning his world upside down, forcing him to push his capabilities to the limit because of it. Sometimes he dreaded to think about what would come after; his hatred was all that kept him going, doing the bare minimum to keep himself alive and functioning, to get him out of bed come morning. What would he do when they were all out of the picture? He could finally be himself, he supposed, though that sounded like a tremendous amount of work and pain for the meager reward of knowing the shell of a man he had become.

This was not the time to think about it, he reprimanded himself. The rebellion hadn’t even began and he had many sleepless nights ahead of him.

The smell of the stew reminded him that he would starve if he waited any longer to eat. He barely remembered when he had eaten last - was it this morning? Yesterday? Such moments were but a blur, a mere nuisance in his schedule. Heisenberg was good at many things, but cooking, that he had never gotten the hang of. Putting a stove together? Piece of cake. Making a fridge out of scrap metal and elbow grease? That he could do. It’s not like he had grown up on much, either, had developed a taste for fine dining, wine and biscuits. His parents had been the industrial kind in more ways than one: blunt, efficient, cut and dry. Their meals were few and far in between, whatever cooked up fast and was filling enough to keep them standing. He had lost the parents, but kept the philosophy over the years, surviving on jerkies and raw produce, or whatever the Duke had in stock to be stored and crudely roasted later.

Heisenberg turned the key to his quarters with a sigh. Home, sweet scrapyard at last, and he wasted no time kicking off his boots and levitating the hammer to place it against the wall next to his favorite chair He set the pot on the metal table before discarding his hat and trench coat, eyeing the bowl the entire time as if it was about to attempt murder. Which he figured it might, considering the person who had given it to him was a woman he had met just a few hours prior, who lived in a hidden shack in the woods and could shapeshift into a giant horned monster. She had tasted it before preparing his bowl, and it did look harmless enough. Heisenberg inspected it closely - it definitely looked very appetizing. Some meat, potatoes, herbs mixed into a thick broth. A hearty meal for a cold winter night. Even if it was poisoned, it looked good enough to be worth the hassle.

“Ah, right.” He stared at his empty hand, shaking his pointer finger disappointingly. A laugh escaped him as he pulled every drawer, went through every shelf. Chisel, saw, hammer. Screwdriver, nails, wrench. Pliers, clamps and cutters, nuts, bolts and screws. An old TV antenna, pewter tankard, and even a goddamn tooth crown. Everything he could think of, except the one thing he needed: a single fucking spoon.

He stormed out of his quarters and into the foundry with the fury of a god. Nothing would keep him from the possibly deadly bowl of stew that smelled like the best thing that would ever grace his lips. He had reanimated the dead to do his bidding, could move metal with his fucking hands. A spoon was no match for him. Grabbing a sheet of metal and a long-abandoned pen, he roughly drew the shape of what he remembered a spoon to be - it had been a while. Cutting through took longer than he expected, and he refused to buff the steel to make it shiny. If he did not ingest his sustenance within the next few minutes, he was positive he would simply lay down and die. He took hammer to metal to make sure the thing would actually hold liquid, then the idea hit him like a flash of lightning, and he cut three small indentations at the tip: half spoon, half fork. The perfect piece of flatware. He would call it… The spork. Finally, he filed the edges just enough that it wouldn’t accidentally rip out a piece of his tongue, and proudly walked back to his quarters, plopping himself down unceremoniously onto a nearby stool.

If this turned out to taste like boiled dirt, it would be the biggest disappointment of his life yet. But it wasn’t - in fact, it was the best thing he had eaten in decades. Creamy, just the right amount of spice, meat cooked to perfection. Somewhere deep within his soul, he knew a proud ancestor watched as he took a generous bite out of a tender potato chunk. He could get used to this, he mused, a mouthful of pork and a hum of approval later. Maybe he should visit more often.

It was over all too soon, and he found himself staring at the empty bowl with so, so much sadness in his heart. Maybe he should have stayed for dinner. Forlorn and full, he leaned against the workbench, one hand reaching down to untuck his shirt, dexterous fingers then quickly unbuckling his belt and popping the button on his pants. Head thrown back, he let out a happy, satisfied sigh when his stomach was finally free of its cloth constraints. He pat his belly with a chuckle, feeling the faint lines of toned muscle above his belly button, then the creases on his hips - he didn’t look bad for being almost a century old, eh? He had gained some extra weight, it’s true, since the Duke introduced him to some modern novelties such as frozen pizza and energy drinks, but hauling corpses and building intricate machines was good exercise. Just the right amount of bulk and sprinkle of muscle, if he did say so himself.

For a moment, unbidden, he wondered if she would like it. If she would like him, all of him, more than what she had seen, more than what she had heard, more than what he had offered in their brief encounter. He hadn’t kept up with the beauty trends, and any man with functioning limbs and two braincells passed as hunk material in the village, but he just knew that he was quite the specimen. He was reminded of that look in her eyes, the one that stirred something within him he hadn’t felt in way too long.

Not that he was interested, of course. His curiosity was only natural, seeing as he hadn’t spoken to anyone from outside this little bubble of a hellhole for decades. Even when he was sent out into the world, his orders were very specific - grab what needs to be brought back, do not talk to victims of the evil plan. As much as he wanted to do it as a fuck you to Miranda, instead he always decided to bide his time. Blowing his cover could mean failure - or death.

She would like it, he decided, checking out his reflection on a well polished piece of metal. Not that it was difficult, of course. Who wouldn’t? The charming beard, killer smile, steel blue eyes. He could treat his hair better, true, wash the soot off his face. His clothes needed washing and his feet needed some time out of those damp boots. He had one too many broken fingernails and more scars than skin at this point. Still, she would like it - on second thought, maybe after a nice, hot shower.

He busied himself with all manner of tasks after dinner. Washed it down with a nice gulp of Gibcos, then made his way down to one of the operating rooms. He pushed aside the gurneys in his way, the quiet humming of the soldiers’ reactors a comforting sound despite the macabre landscape of the room. Beyond the door and behind the large window pane a very, very dead body lay waiting for him, a chunk of its torso and head missing. The lycans had done a number on the poor bastard, catching him off-guard as he made for the outhouse, so we was told. A man couldn’t even shit in this village in peace, he laughed humorlessly. The corpse was barely cold when Heisenberg dug it up and dragged it back to the factory. There was no funeral, no mourning of the deceased: in cases such as these, the villagers thought it best to bury the disfigured relative and be done with it, fingers crossed that they wouldn’t return with a hunger for human flesh a scant few days later. Despite the body’s horrid conditions, it would still be of great use to him. Strong legs and a wide torso, a perfect specimen for his latest experiment.

Sturm, he would call it, after the god-awful noise the propeller engine made. He tentatively pushed down one of the blades - it needed more oil. Rusty recycled chainsaws had been abandoned for a reason, but there was time to better the mechanical parts yet. First, he needed to figure out how to attach the engine, set up the circuitry, add in the artificial blood. Removal of internal organs was simple enough, a nice big heart to tie it all together. On the other hand, seating the mechanical core was a messy process that took him hours to get right. He didn’t want to waste time, or this corpse, when he had already come this far. He abandoned the project for a few minutes when the thighs gave with the weight, off to build braces to hold the thing together.

It looked mostly done after that, and revival was one powerful electric discharge away. Heisenberg held tight against its mechanical nervous system, focusing on channeling all of his energy - it would need an even bigger discharge than Eins and Zwei. Seven thousand volts, and not even a hint of movement. Eight thousand, he grunted as the current flowed through. Attracting metal was easy enough, but having electric organs was tiring work. He had all but given up when he heard the whir of the blades, Sturm’s body jolting on the operating table in a mix of eagerness and terror. The thing lifted its arms to touch him, chainsaw rippers spinning uncontrollably as Heisenberg took several steps back. He covered his face just in time - the desperate creature once again reached out to him, dumb enough not to notice the death machine attached to its own body. An arm hit and shattered the glass of the operating room, the other colliding against Heisenberg’s chest. Fuck, there was blood everywhere.

“Halte!” He bellowed before Sturm could get any closer, removing his now bloodstained glasses to stare at the thing like his gaze could drill a hole right through its spine. “Dummkopf.” And just as quickly as it had risen, it fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes, metal bending in odd places with the impact. Heisenberg let out his frustration with a furious kick on the engine before deciding that if he tried again for the night, he would probably end up throwing the whole thing in the grinder. He’d rather avoid having to clean the blades of all the tissue that would be stuck to them.

Seemed like he would have to take that shower after all.

[lu-undy]

Valentine’s Week Day 1

Hello Ladies and Folks,

I am participating in the Valentine’s week event held by @dontneedadispenser !

This is Day 1 and amongst the suggested themes Beginning/Ending/Family, I did not choose Family. Here is the link for it on AO3 or I copy-pasted it here under the cut, enjoy!

There was a knock at the door with the knife symbol. 

Dinner was done with and Sniper had taken his time washing the dishes. Oddly enough, Spy didn't stay with him in the kitchen to help. Mundy knew that the Frenchman was sometimes just a bit tired of everyone's chattering at the dinner table. 

"Huh?" Sniper frowned. His knocks received no answer. He knocked again. 

"Come in." 

Mundy pushed the door and entered. 

"Hey, darl'! Sorry for the wait, loads of dishes tonight and I kept daydreamin' away." Mundy removed his sleeveless jacket and put it on the coat hanger without thinking about it. He looked over to the sofa. Lucien was standing up, pacing the room in front of the fireplace. Mundy went on. "Well, to be honest, I was uh… I was thinkin' of you. Couldn’t wait to see you."

Mundy took a seat on the sofa but Lucien kept on walking left, right, left, right. 

"Love?"

The Frenchman stopped pacing the room and sighed. That's when Mundy noticed the overfilled ashtray on the coffee table and the bottle of wine of a non French château. That, in Lucien's language, was bad news. Mundy's eyes shot back up to his lover. He was maskless, the first few buttons of his shirt were open and he had rolled his sleeves up. He was smoking what looked like his billionth cigarette. 

"Somethin's wrong?" Mundy stood up and went to his lover. "Hey, Lu'?" He went to wrap his arms around the man who looked so handsome, even if his hair was ruffled and his brow furrowed. But Lucien pushed him back and took a step away from him. "Lucien?" 

Mundy's heart sank to his feet. He was used to Lucien having his moments of distress, of doubt, of frustration, especially when he thought back about his past days, or as he called it, his past life. But never before had he rejected Mundy's affection. On the contrary, Lucien always welcomed it warmly as he knew that it was in fact all he needed.

"Lu'...?" Mundy stayed there, his arms open for a hug that he never received. Lucien was giving him his back. "What is it? Did I do somethin'?"

"Non." Was the first word that the Frenchman finally uttered.

"What is it, then? Tell me." 

Lucien sighed and walking past Mundy, he crushed his cigarette butt in the ashtray on the coffee table.

"Take a seat, Sniper." 

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. Lucien never called him "Sniper" in private… He would at least use his name, if not a "mon amour" or another pet name. Mundy nonetheless obeyed while his eyes never left his lover. Lucien carded his hair back, still standing in front of the dancing flames of the fireplace. He took a deep breath and sighed.

"I… Think that the arrangement we have been having for months now should come to an end." 

Mundy's eyebrows jumped. 

"W-what? The arrangement?" The Aussie was not only distraught but almost disturbed by how cold-blooded the word was. Arrangement. They hadn’t signed a contract or anything, it just.... It just happened! 

Lucien turned and his ice blue eyes met with Sniper. Mundy's heart had stopped.

"I am sorry as this must come as a surprise to you. But I have thought it through, again and again. You see," Lucien started pacing the room again in front of a devastated Mundy. "At first it was only once here, once there. Physical needs, nothing personal. But it has grown into something that has now invaded my life." 

Lucien paused to take a deep breath. 

"I…" Mundy was speechless and utterly bewildered. "What…?" He was holding his tears back while Lucien walked back and forth in front of him, with his gloved hands in his pockets and his eyes glued to the ground. 

"Now, you have crossed a dangerous line, Sniper, the line of sentimentality. You hold feelings in your heart for me. Non, do not try to argue, I can see it in your eyes and in your body language. Long gone are the days in which you would wait for me to open the door for you, long gone are the days where I had to put your vest on the coat hanger for you. You now walk in this suite with baffling familiarity." 

"I'm sorry… Spook, please…?" 

"Non." Lucien stopped sharp and looked Mundy in the eye. "No more 'Spook'. And pray let me finish." 

Mundy put a hand on his mouth. His heart had either stopped completely or was about to burst out of his chest. His legs were unresponsive and his fingers trembled on their own. 

"You see, this arrangement could only last so long, here, in the middle of this base, both of us working to test weapons for a hat making company. None of this makes sense, but of course, neither do you or I. You, the solitary hunter, an exceptional sharpshooter; and me, the man of a million secrets whose very face remains one for most."

Lucien paused and went to take a seat on the armchair. Mundy's eyes stayed riveted on where he was standing. His heart was broken to smithereens. After all that time, after those battles, after all those evenings of silly drinking, all those getaways in the van, on the weekends, all those outings to town, the meals, the movies…?

"W-why? I… I understand you want more space, it's ok, I can give you that, I won't come here unless you ask if that's better, Spook, but please don’t destroy everything." He pleaded.

"Non. You do not understand." 

Lucien stood up again and walked around the sofa. 

"You do not understand." He headed to his bedroom and emerged again. Mundy was now standing up. He had removed his glasses and his hat. 

"You do not understand that I am tired of your knocks on my door."

"I do understand! And now what? You're leavin' me! After all we did and all! You're just… You just spent ages here telling me that I'm just invading your space, well, if that's the problem then I can see you less often, I'm sorry! I didn't know you didn't like it as much as I do!" Mundy answered. His heartbreak had turned to anger and frustration. 

"On that you are right, I do not enjoy your visits as much as you do." 

Mundy's jaw dropped but he quickly clenched it and frowned furiously. 

"Well then I won't come here again! Just… Just come to the van whenever you fancy!"

"Non. That will not be necessary." Lucien answered, still as cold-blooded as ever. 

"Doesn't it do anythin' to you?!" Mundy exclaimed. "Any bloody thing?"

"What?" 

"For fuck's sakes, we've been together for months now and out of the blue you snap at me and break up, and you expect me to just say ok and walk away?! I thought we were honest enough to understand each other! I thought…! Bloody hell!" Mundy punched the wall and clenched his jaw harder. The pain felt good, it poured cold water on his boiling nerves. "Why didn't you say anythin earlier? How the hell did you just turn like that? I mean… I don't get it…! I thought we were doin' very well and…ugh." Mundy covered his eyes with his sleeve to wipe the tears and hide his face. He turned his back to Lucien. 

"Sniper?"

He didn't answer. 

“I apologise for the suddenness of this. I understand that it does come as a surprise. I do admit it is rather impulsive of me.”

“Rather impulsive?! Rather imp - Mate!” Mundy snapped. “You’re telling me you just woke up this morning and thought ‘Oh yeah, let’s dump him!’ Is that what happened? Bloody hell! I was so wrong about you! I thought…!”

“What?”

“Well if Scout had reacted that way, yeah, right, I guess he’s young and he is how he is, but you? You? You’re… You’re much more mature, you’re more calm, you think before you do stuff, right? You don’t just wake up with an impulse and act on it!” Mundy’s shoulders sank as he sighed. “Guess I was wrong about that… Guess I was wrong about everything… Fuck me…”

“Sniper?”

“No! Stop! It’s… It’s horrible. It’s just horrible.” Mundy looked up at Lucien. “And you smile? You bloody smile at me? Was that the plan all along? Get me in your bed a few nights, toy with me and throw me out? Oh you bloody…” Mundy clenched his fist and threw it at Lucien’s face. The Frenchman dodged it with ease.

"Mundy?" Lucien asked with a high-pitched voice and a smug grin on his lips.

Mundy's eyes snapped open and he turned to Lucien.

"Shut up!” He threw another fist but it met with Lucien’s shadow on the wall.

“Mundy, you don’t understand!”

“Of course I bloody do! You used me!” The Aussie leapt to Lucien and this time he managed to catch his collar. 

“Mundy, wait-!”

“No!” He pushed Lucien on the floor and headbutted him, straddling his body. “You have no idea how much I love you! And you went around makin’ me believe you felt the same but you were just playin’, you bastard! You heartless piece of shit!” He yelled, his hoarse voice trying to strangle down the cries and sobs through the punches he dealt.

“Mundy! Stop!”

Lucien’s shout made the Aussie's fist freeze mid-way to his jaw. His breath broke out of sync and his tears streamed down his face silently. There he was, on his knees, straddling a body that he used to be straddled by, at night, when no other eyes would see its beauty. Yeah, Lucien was gorgeous. The bastard was gorgeous, a lean body with shy muscles that Mundy used to touch, sometimes even scratch. Lucien liked his feral Bushman. He used to love him, or maybe he didn’t, eh?

Regardless, Mundy was now silently crying. He wasn’t one to usually let it show. Now that he recalled, everytime that he had been dumped, he’d go back to his van, drive far away and let his rage out on cacti, boulders, and game. Maybe he should do that, hop away and leave for his van?

No, he couldn’t. He looked down and saw the collar he was grasping firmly, his knuckles were bruised from the punches. Oh, Lucien’s nose was bleeding too and his eyes. Gosh his eyes… Even injured, the man had the bloody arrogance to look irresistible.

“Mundy?” Lucien asked and put his hands on Mundy’s.

“Shut up, please.”

“Non, you don’t… You don’t understand.”

“Repeat that one last time and I’ll make you eat your bloody teeth, ok?” Mundy’s voice was trembling. He closed his eyes and more tears were pushed to roll down his slender and rough cheeks. “You’re right.” Mundy sniffed. “I did fall in love with you. Fuck me, I did.”

Lucien smiled.

“But you’re wrong. I didn’t just fall for you recently.” The Aussie went on. “I’ve been in love with you since day one. Bah, doesn’t matter now I s’ppose.” Mundy wiped his face with his sleeve.

“Attends.”

[Wait.]

Lucien slipped his fingers inside Mundy’s palm before his hand flopped to the floor limply.

“What’s that?” Mundy frowned and opened his palm. “What?!” He exclaimed when he saw a silver shining key with a knife symbol carved on it. “What’s that mean? Lu’? Oh bugger...”

Lucien’s eyes were shut. When he opened them again, he was greeted with the view of Mundy’s jaw from underneath. He was lying on the sofa and his head was resting on the Aussie’s lap.

“Mundy?”

“Oh, you up now? Sorry… I hit you hard.”

Lucien smiled and it was sweet.

“Give me your hand, please.” He asked and Mundy obliged. 

“What’s that all about? You‘re breakin’ up with me but giving me a key to your place and now you’re holding my hand. What does that mean?”

“It means that - and please do not punch me more for this - non, you don’t understand.”

“Alright then, explain yourself.”

“Mon amour… When I said that what we have been having should come to an end, I was not breaking up with you. On the contrary… Argh, help me please.” Lucien sat up and Mundy helped him. “I meant that I wanted to take things one step further, if you so wish too.”

“What?” Mundy’s jaw dropped.

“I never thought that you had fallen for me since the first time, because I did and it was simply out of any kind of understanding that you should feel the same for the old man that I am.”

“Wh…?”

"A few decades ago, oui, I would have believed it. Back then, I looked lovable, the sort of man who would make men and women's hearts break at the simple blink of my eyes. But now? Tss…" Lucien shook his head.

"Hey, now… Y-you're gorgeous, ok?"

Lucien looked up at Mundy and grinned, albeit sadly. 

"I would love to believe so." 

"C'mon… But yeah, tell me." 

Lucien sighed.

“Mundy," He looked the Aussie in the eye. "I love you.” 

The Aussie’s jaw dropped. It was the first time he heard it from those thin lips.

“I love the time that we spend together.” Lucien looked at his lover’s lagoon blue eyes.

“But you said my comin’ and goin’ here was annoying?”

“It is annoying that I have to tell you to come in each time. I want you to come here and consider this your home as much as mine, at least for the winter. You can’t stay in your van, you will freeze to death.” Lucien explained. “So please, take this key and… my heart, once and for all.” He tightened the grip on Mundy's hand. "Please?" 

"B-But… Hold on. All the things you said…?"

"You chose to understand them the wrong way." 

"But you said you didn't like it when I come here…?"

Lucien chuckled. 

"Non, I did not say that. I said that I did not appreciate your visits as much as you do." 

"Well, same difference!"

"Not at all." The Frenchman explained and put a hand on his lover's cheek. "Hasn't it occurred to you that I enjoy your visits more than you do, and not less?"

Mundy fell silent.

"Of course, it did not."

"You never told me. You never showed…!" Mundy answered, out of breath under the surprise. 

"And you expect me," Lucien leaned back on the sofa. "The best secret intelligence expert that you ever had the privilege of meeting, and dare I say, the man you have fallen in love with, to simply show you my emotions?" 

"Why not?" 

"I am the Spy." Lucien answered. "I do not show what I feel."

"Why not?" 

"Would you still love me if I did? Would you have taken the risk of falling for me, if you knew what was in my heart; if through that infamous scope of yours you could see the contents of my heart?"

Mundy looked at Lucien with lovestruck eyes. His pupils dilated and his shoulders slowly sank. He relaxed and leaned back on the sofa. Oh how he loved the sound of Lucien's voice…! Mundy laid an arm on the sofa's back and like a reflex, Lucien snuggled up closer to him. 

"One of the reasons you fell for me, Mundy, is because you like the mysteries in me. You like the thrill of that leap of faith you take each time that you doubt my love for you and yet decide to follow your heart anyway. You like this doubt, it makes you vibrate with a curious warmth right here." Lucien gently tapped Mundy's chest, on his heart.

“How d’you do it?”

“How do I do what?”

“How d’you know me that well? Even my mum wouldn’t know what you just told me.” Mundy answered.

“Quite simply, because I am not your mother.” Lucien tapped the tip of Mundy’s nose and the Aussie smiled, making wrinkles appear on his nose and at the corner of his tired eyes. “I apply to be your lover.”

“You apply?” Mundy repeated with a chuckle. “It’s not a job or anythin’, eh?”

“Oh but you are wrong!” Lucien answered. “Look at my face that you disfigured a moment ago. Being your lover is a dangerous job, and a full time one!”

Mundy’s face beamed up with a smile.

“In that case, I’ll look at your application. You can leave it on my desk and I’ll call you back when I’ve looked at the hundreds of others, eh.”

“As if…” Lucien answered with a smirk.

“You think you’re the only one who looks up at me with those eyes of yours?” Mundy took his lover’s chin and stroked his cheek with his thumb. “Well, you’re wrong darl’. You’re not the only one to have some success, eh?”

“I do not doubt that, but you will find my application to be absolutely outstanding.”

“Ooh, is it, now?”

Lucien rolled on his side to straddle his lover’s lap.  

“I can give you a presentation, show you my skills. You may also have heard of my reputation in the field.” Lucien wrapped his arms around Mundy’s neck. 

“You arrogant Frenchie…” Mundy’s hands slid down his lover’s sides.

“And you love it.”

“I kinda do, yeah.”

“So, what do you think? Will you accept my key, and me?” Lucien asked.

“Get off of my lap one second.”

Lucien’s eyebrows jumped in surprise but he obeyed and stood  up off of the sofa. Mundy stood up too and Lucien watched as his lover kicked his boots away and got closer to him again.

“Sorry about your nose. Don’t think I broke it though.”

“Non, you did not, even though it still hurts.”

“Oh, c’mere then, I’ll take care of ya tonight.” Mundy cupped his lover’s face and pulled it to himself. He rested his forehead on Lucien’s and whispered. “Listen, love…”

“Oui…?” Lucien closed his eyes and let himself relax. His eyebrows rose and arched high up on his brow. It felt like his entire body was between the rough and calloused palms of the scruffy hunter.

“Don’t scare me like that ever again, ok?” Mundy asked.

“I cannot promise anything. It was mildly entertaining to see your distress. Besides, I had never heard you declare your love for me.”

“Stop smirkin’, you sexy devil. Look at you, even with your eyes closed, you look smug.”

They both chuckled.

“Does that mean I have got the position?” Lucien asked.

“Hold on, darl’, we gotta see how well you can do on the job, eh?” Mundy’s hands slid down to Lucien’s slim waist. “What d’you say to a first night on the job, as a test, see if you can handle it, hm?”

“I have been handling you for months, mon loup…” Lucien answered and pushed himself to the tip of his toes to kiss his lover.

[my wolf]

“Yeah, but I never knew you loved me back. Now I gotta up my game with ya. C’mere!”

“Mundy!”

The Aussie swept him off the floor and carried him away to their bedroom.

“Hold on, Mundy?”

“Yeah?”

Lucien was in his lover’s arms in a position that had his insides burn with a delicious flame. He had his arms wrapped around Mundy's neck and his feet dangling off of the Aussie's arms.

“Je t’aime.”

“Love you too, gorgeous."

[ricaffeine]

𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐓𝐰𝐨

an: in conclusion i suck at writing, this took far too long to write and i'm not impressed. fingers crossed that the next chapter will make up for it 🖤

leave a comment! i'd appreciate it a lot :))

CHAPTER THREE

The doors creaked open, screeching into the frosty silent of the night, before snapping loudly against the wall. In contrast of the dark night, the full moon shined proudly, its light gently twinkled through the glass ceiling of the room.

Followed by were firm footsteps, shoe soles tapped against the hardwood floor and fainted into the distant. He collapsed onto his arm chair, a sigh of relief washing over as he shifted his weight back.

A knock was heard twice, followed by a steady pace of footsteps that visited the room. Kangtae averted his vision to the man– no, the ghost. Polished in his neat blue uniform, reflecting against the moonlight was a silver half-moon shaped pin tucked above his chest.

"Mr. Moon, you're back." His voice emitted softly as he stopped right in front of the desk- exactly four feet away– accompanying in this hotel for over seventy years– the longest person aside from Kangtae yet to stay, he had his own merits. Jin Hyun paused reluctantly, his wrinkles creasing from concern, eyes wide alert. "What happened to your hand?"

At first a bit muddled, but realization crept after him and Kangtae sighed. Glancing at his blood-clothed hand– scenarios of red winded up in his head. "Ah.. this?"

That impulsive woman.

"Just some accident." His reply was simple– like the man he was and unlike the moon guest house's previous owner, he was, you can say, far less complicated.

Kangtae peeled at his clothed hand, anticipating as the blood wrenched skin morphed back to what was before, clean flesh took back its place. "Where's Manager Lee?"

He then reached for his whiskey decanter, filling up a quarter of the lowball glass. "Isn't she back yet?"

Jinhyun hesitated. "About that, I'm afraid to tell you that there had been a major issue regarding your latest purchase. But do not worry sir, Manager Lee will inform you once she has discussed with the–"

"Tell her to take the day off tomorrow." Kangtae spoke and sipped his glass, embracing the scorching burn that drained down his chest. "I'll manage it myself."

Although struck in confusion, the old spirit knew better than to question his boss's command. Jinhyun nodded reluctantly, made sure he would address the message to the mortal being.

"It's the full moon today, so I think we are expecting many guests."

Kangtae drained his glass and set it back on the table, jaw clenched at the comment– though it was swiftly masked away with his poker face. "Open for business, but don't accept the ones whose death were so gruesome. They're a pain in the ass."

Suppressing the urge to tell him that discriminations shouldn't be allowed, instead Jinhyun bowed, no interest to provoke any further into his bitterness. "I will take special care, so they won't get in your way."

He left with another steady bow, footsteps fell into the distant and Kangtae picked on the red stained cloth that layed flat on his desk. A blue flame lit up on its end, he watched waves of blue consumed all of it, before golden ashes swirled and vanished into thin air.

One speck however, did not follow and he reached out, trapping it between his pincers.

"Ko Munyeong, what should I do with you?"

Munyeong slapped her phone shut.

Frustration built up like a ticking bomb as she threw it behind her. It landed with a loud thud, but she could care less. Yesterday's event had bittered her enough and Sangin's repeating missed calls since 6 a.m. weren't brightening her mood any better. Tires screeched against the waxed floor as she struck a sharp turn into the parking slot, the reserved for CEO sign knocked into nowhere.

In her new prized possession, Munyeong stomped through the building, brave less employees– who ever barely had the guts to look at her on a usual day, shuddered twice as much–

"Good morning Ms. Ko!" The tiny body wiggled its way to block her off. A weary smile is served from Sangin's pesky assistant.

"Move aside."

Seungjae shuffled, hands suspiciously frantic as she spoke. "Mr. Lee just informed me that he will be here soon–"

Munyeong hissed. "And?"

"..And that you should go wait in his office." She finished meekly, unsure of her tone.

"Why would I wait there?" She pointed her finger foward. "The meeting room is right here."

Not intrigued for her reply, Munyeong nagged the girl's shoulder, rather she'd figure it out herself.

"Move."

She strolled across, then paused within her pace, eyes captivated by a figure. Leaning onto the metal rail, Prada purse dangling in the air, she hummed in her own favor.

Ah. Him again.

"What a sight." Munyeong said as she stepped down in her extravagant red mini dress, ballooned sleeves cuffed tight at her wrists, a plunging neckline where she proudly presents her new gold necklace. True to her words, he appeared just as fine. Black slacks– which to her favor, did an incredible job in displaying his godly thighs. Cuffed sleeves of his button up accentuated his broad broad shoulders, and the spectacular waistcoat that hugged his chest.

"You look more dashing in these clothes."

The man teared his eyes away from The Witch's Rose– another of her cash-claiming pieces. A work of watercolors and actual blood splayed onto the canvas, everyone who has seen it ends up in complete awe.

However his gaze was not purely admiration, rather laced with criticism– certainly something she never enjoyed from anyone. But there are some exceptions for some specific people, aren't they?

"I thought you were different, but I was obviously wrong." She crossed her arms. "How much did he offer you?"

His voice was rough, almost coarse even. "If you can't talk politely, at least try to not be so cryptic."

"Ah. Look at you talking so casually."

Munyeong raised her chin and barged into his space, weaklings would have already shown signs of discomfort, but surprisingly he was remarkably unbothered. She dragged a finger along his shoulder, the curve of his skin firm beneath her touch, and tapped his bicep. "I practically stabbed you."

He swiveled around, this time his body directly faced hers. "What about it?"

"How much did Mr. Lee offer you to compensate and make sure your mouth stays shut?"

A short spur of silence fell before he let out an cocky ahh. "I'm guessing that method always works."

Her smile dropped. "Verbal consolation is bullshit, money is best."

"You really think so?"

She shrugged. "Then what do you want?" Eyes wide as she suggested. "Sex?"

In a swift moment he had drowned closer to her. His gaze burned at her, brushing at her lips and froze. "Is it worth that much?"

Admittedly he was good at getting on her nerves. Too good, though she'd never lose to anyone, including him. Munyeong let out a scoff.

"If you're not here for money nor sex, then what do you want?

He cocked his head slightly, his prominent eyes playing innocent and for a second Munyeong forgot that they were bickering. "A refund?"

A snap back to reality, her face laced with confusion. "What refund?"

He dodged her question and looked over her shoulder. "Ah. There it comes."

She turned around to see a Sangin entering with a box of not-so-secret cash in his hands.

"Good afternoon Mr. Moon Kangtae. I deeply apologize for what happened, what can we do–"

As usual, meetings with her always began with Sangin's devastated face– knowing all the trouble she is going to cost him– but today it did seem particularly worse.

Kantae lifted his hand, as if it was a sign to stop. "Let's cut to the chase– I want my money back."

Sangin's smile dropped, though immediately replaced by his appealing mask. "Yes, I understand–"

Kangtae stared at Munyeong, a smirk rising on the corner of his lips. "Including our little incident, I say it'd be 11 million."

Tragically, Munyeong had not noticed by the consequence of the appalling numbers. She snapped at the man to her side. "What the hell is he talking about?"

Sangin sighed. "Munyeong-ah, you see.. your little smashing session. It had wrecked The Nightmare Garden, therefore, we will have to repay our client. Mr. Kangtae is here to–"

Client?

Her eyes shot at him again, impossibly wider. "What do you mean client? Then who was that snobby lady?"

"Ms. Lee is my representative." Kangtae stepped in. "But it doesn't matter. The fact that you jeopardized my painting with that cheap wine-"

"I'm not giving up my money!"

"Well, there's nothing you can do." He smiled– devilishly and yes Munyeong would kill to wipe it off his charming face.

"You'll be hearing from my lawyers in a few days." Kangtae reached for his box of honey money, which was sheepishly handed from Sangin. "Until then, I'll take this."

With another amused– and irritatingly handsome smile, and piles of cash he headed off. Left in silence was a raging pit of fire and its hopeless manager.

Three hours and seven corspe employees later, Munyeong crumbled the paper cup in her hand. Furious was an understatement. How could she give her money back to him? She was set, eyes on her prize but just like a fucking clownery it vanished into thin air.

"Aish Moon Kangtae, that bastard." Munyeong trampled at the crumbled trash, letting out on a slice of her frustration. It was his choice to interfere with her, no one forced him to.

"Oh my my, you're a such a pretty girl." A squeaky voice giggled, penetrating into her quiet atmosphere.

She glanced at the lady, head to toe. Dressed in a horrifying shade of hot pink. Her frail grey hair was topped by a floppy hat- also in the same absurd color. She seemed to fond pearls, as it was accented everywhere, including on wrinkly her fingers where she had slotted a card in between. "Mr. Kangtae had asked me to pass this to you."

Her high-pitched voice rang like bells as she added. "He also said that he'd be willing to compromise, if' you go visit his hotel."

Munyeong raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

With a delighted smile, the lady nodded along and Munyeong promptly snatched it, ambiguous eyes interpreted onto the cursive blue lettering.

"Hotel.. Blue Moon?"

A condescending smile played on her lips. More so amused by the piece of paper and unaware of the soft breeze that swept past her.

Fine. If he wants to play with her, she'll play with him.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Kismet {3}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Plot Heavy, Slow Burn, Mild Cursing, Flirtation, LOTS OF WORDS

Words: 7.7k

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

Note: I did something a little different this chapter with POVs. You’ll see it toward the end. Let me know if it was confusing or if you guys liked it. Also there are Google Translations in text. If they are wrong, I apologize. I hope you enjoy this. ❤️❤️

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘  As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

***Henry Images NOT my own**

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 

-Aliya-

A few days later, you found yourself on a flight back to LA. Usually, you’d be relieved to get home so you could shower in your own bathroom and fall asleep in your bed. Today you weren’t relieved. You were filled with a different emotion—anxiousness. Looking down, you stared at the picture of Henry in his bed with little to nothing on. You’d tried to drill into your head that you needed to end the flirtation as quickly as possible, but instead of doing anything of the sort, you continued thinking about him. It didn’t help that you found yourself looking through his pictures daily. That was what probably kept this lingering attraction to him. It had to be his looks your deduced.

Your text messages and conversations flitted through your head on a daily basis. You found yourself smiling at something he’d said or texted, and you always realized it at the most inopportune times. You doubted anyone noticed, but it bothered you that you noticed. When the plane landed, you made your way through airport security. As you did, you noticed the paps from the corner of your eye snapping away, capturing every move you made. After signing a few autographs, you climbed into your waiting truck.

The drive to your house gave you time to think about your next move. Instead of work being the most important thing on your mind, it was Henry. His suggestion was fresh on your mind. You wondered if he'd bring it up again. When your driver dropped you off and brought your bags to your bedroom, you took the time to enjoy the quiet and comfort of your own surroundings. Traveling was part of your job, and in your life, you’d seen the inside of plenty of hotels, but you always preferred being home. You felt more like yourself here.

The next hour was spent unpacking and decompressing while fighting off the jet lag. The music that you had blasting was working with keeping you distracted, and you were grateful for it. After unpacking, you began working fearing idle hands. Halfway into trying a different angle with the magazine, you heard the chime of Henry’s phone. Pausing where you sat, you waited to see if it would chime again. It didn’t, so you went back to work. 

Every minute you sat there instead of looking at the phone, you were filled with such an overwhelming desire you rush across the room to look at it. It was a desire that was new to you. It had been years and years since you’d had any impulse close to this. You thought you’d had one hundred percent success when you cauterize every ventricle that could produce impulses and emotions like this to your heart.

 As your legs carried you across the room, you realized you must not have been entirely successful.

 MSG Your Phone: How is Firefly in Studio City?

 Of course, he was still persistent. You didn’t expect anything less. Part of you had expected him to bring it up again. You stared at the text for several minutes, unsure of what to reply. The war within you waged again. You knew that if you agreed, there would be a chance you wouldn’t leave immediately. He was that charming. Deciding not to respond, you called your trainer instead, hoping that a workout would help to either distract you or help you decide.

 The next hour and a half was spent sparring with your trainer. He didn’t take it easy on you, something you were grateful for. After twenty minutes, you were dripping in sweat and fully enthralled in the workout. After a sparring match, he pushed you through a HITT routine that kicked your ass. You were certain he decided to give you the athlete routine because you’d never been this out of breath. No matter how tired you were, you pushed through it. By the time you’d finished, you were flat on your back on the mat completely out of breath, but you’d also come to terms with a decision.

 MSG Henry’s Phone: See you then.

 After cleaning up a bit, you decided to take your chances on Rodeo for some shopping. Before you got out of your car, you pulled on a hat and some sunglasses and said a silent prayer. You’d learned long ago that if you blended in, you usually would be left alone. As you shopped, you did notice a few eyes, but they always looked away. They must have decided that you weren’t anyone special because of how you were dressed. Maybe it was a good idea to shop in your workout clothes that still had splotches of sweat all over them.

 When you got home, you realized you had two hours left. That meant you couldn’t take forever in the shower, which would be impossible since you had to do your wash routine because of how sweaty you’d gotten during your workout. Deciding on a co-wash rather than a full wash routine, you saved yourself an added hour in the shower. As you stepped into your room, you saw Alicia sitting there.

 “My God, I’ve been calling and texting for weeks,” she half whined and shouted.

 “I have an explanation. My phone wasn’t with me,” you rushed out.

 Alicia looked confused when she looked at the bed and saw the phone that eerily resembled yours. You proceeded to tell her everything as she followed you around your closet. You didn’t leave one thing out. It was only with Amaya and Alicia could you be this honest. They’d been with you through everything, well Alicia had. Amaya began as your assistant and was for five years before you decided to get another so she could achieve all her goals. Now she was doing very well as the owner of her own boutique and on track to opening another location.

 “Holy Shit, lemme see.”

 You showed her Henry’s phone and took the time to scroll through his pictures yet again. You were verging on a stalker now. Every picture she went to that showed less and less clothing had her gasping louder and louder.

 “Oh my god. You have to jump on that.”

 “Leece!”

 She snickered as you shook your head. You didn’t know why you were surprised. She’d always been the more outspoken one between you. she said everything that came to mind. She also wasn’t plagued with the same tragedies as you.

 “Only you would find yourself in a situation like this,” Alicia scoffed.

 “Tell me about it.”

 “So you’re going to get your phone back.”

 “Yes,” you confirmed.

 “And dinner,” Alicia added.

 “What? I hadn’t planned on dinner.” You were sitting at your vanity, applying a lite layer of makeup.

 “It’s night. It would be a shame just to go to get your phone back. Sit a while,” Alicia slid in with a grin on her face.

 “Leece, there have been two women texting and calling him this entire time. I don’t do messy, and that screams messy.”

 “You don’t know that,” she protested.

 You walked out of your closet and to the bag that had the dress you’d just bought. “It’s not a good idea.”

 “Which is why you’re putting in major effort.”

 You slipped on the dress while shaking your head objecting.

 “I am not. I like to look good.”

 Alicia scoffed again. “Chic, please. You’re wearing makeup. I see the flat iron over there, which means you’re going to straighten your hair and probably curl it to since the curling iron is next to it. You only do that when you plan on doing those curls that make you look like an Egyptian goddess. Plus, the clothes everywhere in the closet says you were indecisively trying to find an outfit,” Alicia pieced together.

 Groaning, you dropped your head back. “God, this is crazy. I don’t know this man at all.”

 “But?”

 “I don’t know. When we bumped into each other that time, I felt this—electric charge between us. Looking at him—I felt like—like I was under some spell. It’s weird,” you explained before you sat in front of the mirror, ready to use the flat iron. “Then this week, I swear I felt like I needed a release every damn day,” you confessed.

 Alicia walked behind you and took up the flat iron and began the process for you. “Every day I looked at his pictures, and then he’d text almost every day and his voice,” you added before you groaned loudly again. “What is wrong with me, Leece?”

 “You’re horny.”

 Glaring at her you rolled your eyes. “Shut up.”

 “It’s either that or you’ve met the one,” Alicia added.

 You nearly leaped to your feet from shock. The only thing that stopped you was the fact that Alicia had a hot as hell flat iron in your head.

 “The one? Shut all the way up!”

 That was when Alicia laughed, which made you grunt again before crossing your arms like a child. As she continued doing your hair, you caught up with what you’d missed in each other’s lives over the last weeks.  For the next almost forty minutes, your conversation took your mind off of what the rest of the night held for you. Before you knew it, she’d finished, and you were standing in front of the mirror, fully put together. It was a beautiful dress, one that wasn’t overtly sexy, but it also wasn’t plain.  When you got into your car, Alicia left you with a parting message. “Que sera sera.”

  -Henry-

He said seven, but he was there at six-forty-five. He hated being late. It was probably the Brit in him. As he sat at the table, he’d requested he sipped water rather than a beer. His nerves would have him going through two or three before you got there. He found himself worrying that you wouldn’t show. After going around it for ten or so minutes, he finally decided that you would show up, but then it sent him in another mind maze on if you’d stay. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been like this over a woman.  It was almost laughable—almost.

 Thankfully the table he’d chosen afforded him some privacy, which meant he could fall apart in peace. He’d never been more nervous in his life, and that included the times he’d auditioned for Superman and Witcher. He remembered his mother’s words; “Nerves aren’t a bad thing; they symbolize that something or someone matters.”

 He didn’t know how you mattered in such a short amount of time, especially since you hadn’t talked often, and you’d never spent more than one minute in front of each other. He flicked his wrist to check his Garrick watch for the tenth time. Seven o’clock. Instinctively, he looked around, trying to see if you’d arrived. There was no sign of you. There was no sign of you for the next five minutes. He tried not to be alarmed or discouraged, noting that not everyone was as punctual as he was. It was then he wished he’d ordered something a lot stronger than water.

  <With Aliya>

When you arrived, you were appreciative that there were no paps. They always increased your anxiety, and right now, you didn’t need any more anxious energy. After the valet took your car, you walked up to the hostess with young features, including kind eyes and a sweet smile. When her eyes met yours, you knew she’d recognized you.

 “Hi. Welcome to Firefly. Do you have a reservation?” You were impressed she got through that calmly without missing a beat.

 “Um—I’m not sure. There’s supposed to be a guy here. He’s pretty tall, black hair, um—built he looks like he works out, oh, and the most amazing blue eyes that you’ve ever seen,” you listed off. You didn’t want to just drop his name if he’d managed to get in without being recognized.

 “Of course, you’re the Aliya he meant,” she said with an excited smile.

 “Huh?”

 “He said he was expecting an Aliya to join him. I should have known it was you,” she explained.

 You looked around, making sure you weren’t drawing attention.

 “Follow me. I’ll take you back,” the hostess instructed.

 You didn’t move. Your anxieties controlled your limbs now.  The hostess stopped and looked at you with a concerned expression on her face. You toyed with the handle of your clutch, trying your best to calm yourself enough to move. As you followed her through the restaurant, you were pleased the route didn’t have you parading through the restaurant.

 When she stopped at a drawn closed red curtain, you took a deep breath and prepped yourself. She pulled it open, revealing the man of the night.

 “Mr. C, excuse me. Your party is here.”

 She stepped to the side and gave you the first view of him. He looked as incredible as ever. With the lights behind him, it put him in the most romantic glow. You squeezed your clutch, feeling the butterflies flit in your belly. This was not good, you thought.

 Long moments passed with the two of you just staring at each other. Every second that passed, your attraction toward him only grew, and the more your attraction grew, the more you felt as if there was a strong gravitational pull between you. It didn’t make any sense to you.

 “Well, I’ll leave you now. Your waiter will be over in a few minutes,” the hostess informed before she walked off.

 You still stood there, gawking at him. When he stood, you followed his height. He was tall, and that took your breath away even more.

 “Hi.”

 He sounded surprised and out of breath.

 “Hi,” you echoed pretty much identically to him.

 It felt like a surreal moment, one you didn’t have a lot of experience with in this fashion. You’d been in surreal moments before, but they were less than ideal. When he moved behind you to the other side of the table he pulled out the chair there.

 “Please,” Henry said ushering to the chair.

 He looked tempting and welcoming all at once. You’d only planned on getting this far. Anything past this would have you venturing into unchartered territory, somewhere you didn’t like going. Sitting in the seat, Henry pushed it in for you before he walked back around to his.

 “Thank you.”

 The silence returned, and when your eyes met again, anything you thought to say faded away. How could anyone think straight when looking into eyes like those?

“Hi, I’m Tamara. I’ll be your server tonight,” a new voice began snapping you both out of your daze. “Holy mother, you’re—you’re Henry Cavill. I’m such a huge fan,” she rushed out.

 Henry smiled appreciatively as he slightly bowed his head. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

 “Wow. No problem,” Tamara said as she shook her head as if trying to snap herself out of it. She looked successful, but when she looked at you, her eyes widened even more.

 “Oh my god! You’re—you’re—a twofer. I’m a huge fan of yours too.”

 Smiling you flicked your hair over your shoulder. “Thank you.”

 “Wow, okay. Do you guys know what you’d like to drink or an appetizer?”

 “Afraid not, we just sat down.”

 “Okay. I’ll give you a few more minutes,” Tamara said.

 “Actually, I’m not staying,” you informed.

 Both pairs of eyes landed on you. Henry didn't look surprised, but Tamara looked as if you were insane and she wanted to tell you.

 “Oh.” That “oh” was filled with so much judgment. You almost laughed.

 “Can you give us a few minutes, Tamara?” His smile must have been his secret weapon. Tamara instantly fell under its spell, smiling back at him like an awestruck teenager as she nodded her reply.

 “Sure thing,” she managed out before she walked away. That was when you took up your clutch to get the thing that brought you here.

 “I only came here to give you back your phone and get mine,” you informed as you took his phone out to hold out to him. Henry didn’t take it. Instead, he looked at it then to you.

 “Is that the only reason you came tonight?”

 You were speechless now, and you didn’t know why. Yeah, he was gorgeous, and his eyes felt like they were actual x-ray beams that were boring into you. Yes, his aura was something that was wreaking havoc on you, and his scent was just bombarding you, overloading all of your senses. None of that should have mattered. He was not the first beautiful face you’d encountered.

 “Honestly, you could have mailed it to me a week ago, making tonight unnecessary. You didn’t. You held on to it and decided to come tonight,” Henry theorized.

 “To give this back to you,” you reiterated.

 “If that was your only reason, you should have chosen a different outfit.”

 Your smile began small but gradually spread wider and wider until you were full-on blushing. He was too damn charming. It was the accent; it had to be.

 “It’s Friday night. I’m starving and have nothing to do. We’re both here at one of the best restaurants in LA that also offers privacy. Let’s stay. If after drinks and appetizers, you can’t stand me, I will have no objections to going our separate ways. No hard feeling and no strings,” Henry suggested.

 You studied him for several long moments. Slowly, you licked your lips. The action brought Henry’s eyes to them.

 “And if we get through drinks and appetizers and somehow make it to actual dinner and dessert, what then?”

 With his smile, you realized you were in danger. No man should be this gorgeous. No man should have a perfect face, including eyes and smile that would stop any war. The shiver that rushed through you had him smiling even more extensively. Looking from him, you dipped your head to gather your senses.

 “Don’t you want it back?”

 Henry leaned back into his chair and shrugged. “Eh, I’ve been without it for twelve days. What’s another few hours? Hang on to it,” he replied as he lifted the menu to his face.

 With his face blocked from yours, you were finally able to breathe. He had to know his effect. There was no way a man went through his life, not knowing his effect on the opposite sex. Pressing your palm to your belly, you tried to will the butterflies to calm. You placed his phone on top of the table to the left and your clutch to the right. He still held his menu up. It gave you a little more time to think about what you should do. The exhaustion you felt before your belly growled were the only two deciding factors. You took up your menu and scanned it.

 Neither of you spoke for a few moments. You wondered if he was also taking notice of the things you were.

 “Have you ever been here?”

 “Um—no. First time,” you answered.

 “I've been here once or twice. My friends love the food.”

 You nodded with your head in the menu. You busied yourself with figuring out what you’d eat instead of thinking about his scent.

 “You know, for you to figure out if you can’t stand me, you have to talk to me,” Henry teased.

 Peeking out from the menu, you glanced at him. “What if in talking I realize I can’t stand you?”

 He smiled again, which had you wanting to return it. “Funny.”

 You shrugged. “ I have my moments.”

 “I do have to say this before another moment passes,” Henry began. You put the menu down, giving him your full attention. He looked serious.

 “You look incredibly beautiful tonight.”

 That was not what you were expecting. Your heart was racing with just those simple words. In a second, everything and everyone around you disappeared, leaving just the two of you in the dim glow of candlelight. Wow, you thought.

 “Sorry to interrupt the moment,” Tamara softly breeched. “Any idea what you’d like?” You quickly looked away from him. Flustered, you glanced back to the menu.

 “Yes, um, a coconut mojito, please,” you requested.

 “Great choice. They are to die for here. And you?”                  

 Henry pursed his lips to the side as he looked over the menu for a few quick moments, then looked back to Tamara. You couldn’t help but stare at his lips.

 “A Guinness, please.”

 “Sure thing. Any appetizers?”

 Henry glanced at you to take the lead.

 “Uh—I’ll have the blackened shrimp with crispy chilled cucumbers,” you informed.

 “I’ll have the chicken samosas, please.”

 “All right. Coming right up. When I bring them back, I’ll take your main course,” Tamara said before she walked off.

 Once the two of you were alone, you found your hand in your hair twirling it lost in your thoughts while skimming the menu. It took a few moments to realize it, but when you looked at him, his eyes were planted on you, and that was when you realized what you were doing.

 “I’m sorry. It’s a habit I have.” Putting your hand on the table, you tried to get over the impulse to put it right back in your hair.

 “No need to apologize,” Henry voiced while looking in your eyes.

 You’d noticed it from the moment you saw him at the table. Whenever he spoke, he looked into the eyes of whoever he was speaking to. It was a refreshing discovery, one you liked—a lot.

 Clearing your throat, you focused on the current goal of the night. “So I hear really good things about Witcher season two and the Superman movie that is being planned.”

 “Oh yeah?”

 “Yeah. All the comic people are excited about you reprising your role as Kal-El, and the gamers are loving Witcher,” you expressed.

 “Does that include you?”

 “Actually, I am interested. Superman happens to be my most favorite superhero.”

 “Really, not Batman?”

 You snorted and shook your head. “Batman sucks, Superman, though—more substance.”

 His smirk was wide. You could tell he liked that answer.

 “Is he your only favorite?”

 “No. There’s WonderWoman, Aquaman, Storm, Mystique, although she lost her way for a tiny bit and  Black Panther,” you listed.

 “Aquaman, huh. I didn’t suspect that.”

 “I like to deliver the unexpected,” you quickly followed up with a smile that Henry returned. You couldn’t help but bit your bottom lip.

 “So a Guinness man, huh?”

 “Yes, of course, I’m British. I was born on the Bailiwick of Jersey on the Channel Islands.”

 “Really?” You couldn’t believe you didn’t know that. He nodded with a smile.

 “Interesting. Isn’t that right between England and France?”

 “You’ve been?” The surprise and excitement in his eyes was bright.

 “No. I just know.”

 “Not many people do. I’m impressed,” Henry complimented.

 “Is that how you know French?”

 “Yes, also my mother spoke French to me, and I learned it. How do you know French?”

 He seemed genuinely interested in the words that came out of your mouth. Usually, when you interacted with men in the industry, it was different. You could always tell they seemed to be pretending on some level. With Henry, you didn’t get any air of fakeness. He seemed like a genuine person. That was rare in the entertainment industry.

 “I went through finishing school, where they taught a bunch of stuff. A lot of it was useless like etiquette, how to sit, talk, and act as a true proper lady. How to speak, and the art of conversation. The proper way to set the table with the right place settings and what each fork is for and each spoon because that is incredibly important in life. Let’s see--,” you tapped your jaw, trying to remember all the useful useless things you learned in your childhood.

 “Oh, How to host events, the useful skill of ballroom dancing mixed with aristocratic dances. I also learned more useful life skills like languages such as French, German, Chinese, Spanish, Gaelic, and Russian. I learned how to cook, manage a budget, even how to take care of a household and one of the best things. Ready for it?”

 Henry nodded. “How to be marriage ready, so when a suitable gentleman caller comes calling, I'm ready and willing to receive him and show what an asset I am for him to marry,” you finished in your perfect southern voice.

 Henry looked shocked, scared, and confused, but he also looked very amused. His expression was enough to have you laughing loudly. As you laughed, he joined in.

 “Finishing school. Wow.”

 “Yep. From six to thirteen,” you added.

 “Wow. I would have never guessed. So you know the difference between a soup spoon, dessert spoon, and appetizer spoon?”

 You cringed remembering the torturous lessons that went on for weeks about that topic.

 “Unfortunately,” you blandly confirmed before Henry was laughing. In seconds you were laughing with him.

 You were so busy laughing, neither of you realized when your waitress came back with your drinks. As she placed your drinks down, you troubled her for a side plate of sliced pineapples, lemon, and lime wedges. While she hurried for your items, you stirred the mojito with the spoon that was on the table. When she returned you thanked her.

 “Mojito, huh,” Henry began with a smirk. Rolling your eyes, you scoffed.

 “I’ll bite. Tell me what my drink choice says about me.”

 Henry raised his hands defensively. “I didn’t say a word.”

 “I know you have a few to say. By all means,” you laid out signaling he had the floor.

 “Okay, since you you insist.” You smiled and rested your chin on your hand, giving him your undivided attention.

 “Mojito screams fun, party. It also says you’re relaxed, confidant, and adventurous. Mojito also says you have a lot of intrigue and spice. You have attitude and a bold personality. You’re not afraid to tell someone off and not afraid to do your own thing. You don’t kiss anyone’s ass.”

 It was easy to get mesmerized by what he said. There was something to the way he spoke, everything he said sounded almost poetic. You didn’t know if it was the accent or the tone of his voice, but you loved to listen to him talk. Smirking, you nodded.

 “Sounds accurate.”

 Henry chuckled, “Really?”

 “Maybe,” you coyly replied. Popping a slice of pineapple into your mouth, you smirked at him.

 “Go on. What do you have to say about my drink choice?”

 You pinched your lips because your instinct said just be blunt, be you, but because this was technically a not date/date, you felt you should sugarcoat a little.

 “Hmmmmm,” you exaggerated while pretending to think hard about his assessment. Henry snorted.

 “Guinness, my dad drinks Guinness, he’s British, and my grandfather on my mom’s side drinks it too, he’s Irish. What do they both have in common? They’re both from stuffy upbringings where boring is smiled upon.”

His laugh was loud, so loud; you knew people were looking around, trying to find it. Thankfully the curtains were drawn, giving you both continued privacy. When he quieted down, you continued.

 “You are not afraid of complex. Guinness, to me, is very complex. The taste is very harsh, which must mean you are not afraid of less than ideal situations or people. You have a political character, which includes having a lot of charm and poise. You know how to present yourself, and people appreciate that. You’re authentic and know who you are and what you want and don’t take shit getting it.”

 As you spoke, Henry looked more and more serious.

 “You also are a partier, you have to be Guinness is heavy and has a high alcohol content, and with it getting drunk is easy. That also must mean you hold your liquor well,” you finished.

 He looked impressed. You knew you were right or damn close to it.

 “Or you could just be a really great poser,” you added.

 The sound that you were beginning to love every time you heard it started up again—his laughter. Unable to help it, your hand found its way back into your hair to continue twirling.

 “Nice.”

 “Thank you. Accurate?”

 He glanced up with just his eyes to peer into yours, stopping your breath in the process. “Maybe. You forgot one thing.”

 You audibly gulped before you spoke. “What’s that?” It was a whisper.

 “I always get what I want because I don’t stop until it’s mine.” He never looked from your eyes, and that was what shook you. Man, you’d never been thirstier, you thought.

 “Good to know.” It was another whisper.

 You watched him take up his drink and hold it out. “A toast.” You followed his action and waited for him to continue. “To lost phones and main courses,” he finished. You smiled and tapped his glass before taking a hefty sip of your drink before popping the lime into your mouth right after. The increased burn tingled your tastebuds in an exhilarating way.

 “Adventurous indeed,” Henry muttered in a way that had your belly flipping.

 Keep it together, Aliya, you hammered in your head.

 Through drinks and appetizers, you talked. There never seemed to be one moment of uncomfortable silence between you. Henry spoke about how he got into acting and why he continued. You shared with him how you got into singing, then modeling and finally acting. When you spoke, he gave you his undivided attention and never looked bored. When he told a story about his family during his childhood or growing up with four brothers, you hung on every one of his words. Things were going swimmingly well, so well, time seemed to stand still but speed forward all at once.

 The more he talked, the more tid bits you found you liked about him. He definitely didn’t come off as the pretty boy he was made to be in the press. He was more than a pretty face, and you were attracted a lot more to his mind than his face. His looks didn’t hurt, though. You found yourself just gawking at each of his features. You watched his hands as they moved when he told his stories, he was such an animated talker.

 Every time he smiled, you stared at his mouth, and you took your time there. His lips looked soft. He looked like he was a good kisser. You didn’t even bother chastising yourself for the thought. What was the point? From his mouth and perfectly imperfect teeth, you drooled over his perfect jawline. If Da Vinci was still alive, you were sure Mona Lisa would be a blip on his radar. You moved to his clean and kempt hands and exposed forearms, intentionally staying away from his sizable arms and shoulders. You knew if you fixated on them, you would probably drool.

 When the waitress returned to inquire about your dinner orders, Henry didn’t speak. He sat there calmly and patiently, giving you the time needed to answer. While his body language spoke of confidence, the look in his eyes silently screamed uncertainty. Even the waitress looked to be silently telling you to stay and give him a chance. You gave your order and watched as he did the same.

 The rest of the night went by in a whirl. You talked, laughed, flirted, and teased each other. He revealed he was a mama’s boy but assured there would never be a scenario where his mother would have priority over his relationships because there would be no need. When you told him that both of your parents’ opinions mattered to you, he didn’t seem phased one bit.

 You loved that nothing seemed forced between you. After a little while, thanks to his down to earth aura, you forgot he was an actor and saw him as a normal man. The more you saw him as a regular guy, the connection you felt between you continued to increase. With its increase, his effect did as well. It was exhausting pretending to be un-phased by him, especially since that was not the case. You’d never reacted to any man like this before, your body was on high alert, and that scared you.

  -Henry-

Things were going incredible, better than what he’d hoped. You were a dream, and it went way past your looks. You were smart, funny, snarky, and honest. With each word you spoke, he found himself hanging off every single one. How could he not? He was sure you’d noticed even though he tried to keep himself restrained. The more he tried to do that; the more your personality compelled him to break free. It was a delicate balance he had to figure out. Never had he been this comfortable with another woman or felt such a clear connection to. Before, in passing, it intrigued him. Now with you sitting across from him, it mesmerized him.

 Everything you did mesmerized him. Your voice was like a sultry melody he had to hear all the time. Your laugh the one thing that had his heart racing. The way you licked your lips as if you wanted to savor the taste on them. The way you toyed with the curls in your hair dazed and distracted him. He wanted to sink his fingers into it as he gently brought your lips to his. It was an overwhelming urge that took every ounce of his energy to cage.

 He’d hoped that if you came tonight that he would have answers to so many questions he had since you’d met, but after everything he found out, he just had more questions. He thought he’d find things out that would dispel this attraction he felt for you, but he had no luck in that department. By the time the bill came, he was even more attracted to you. When he handed his card to the waitress, you protested, offering to split it instead. It was refreshing. Every woman he took out expected him to pay and never lifted a finger or raised a voice of splitting the bill after they’d ordered everything that was expensive on the menu. It was laughable. With you, it was unexpected, and even that had him wanting you even more.

 As the two of you walked out of the restaurant onto the sidewalk, he breathed a relieved sigh that there were no flashing cameras. Somehow, on other dates, the paps always found out where they were even with him taking every precaution. He suspected it was always his date but never voiced it. That wasn’t the case with you now.  The valet handed you your car keys after you insisted you could walk to it rather than have him bring it around.

 “I’ll walk you,” he offered.

 “You don’t have to.”

 “I do. I was raised proper, and my mother would have my ass if I did anything else.”

 You snorted, nodded, then led him on the path. As he watched you walk before him, your curves made it impossible not to watch. You walked for an audience and deduced you were so used to walking a runway that you didn’t even realize when you were doing it. When you dropped at a car and opened it, he held the door.

 “The food was delicious. I can see why your friends like it,” you expressed.

 “Yeah, you know you’re getting when you come here. Would you come again?”

 You shuffled your head from side to side with a smile. “Maybe.”  That was when your hand found its way back into your hair, and there went his focus for the next fifteen seconds, at least.

 “Eh-em, is it past your bedtime?”

 “What time is it?”

 Quickly glancing at his watch, he spoke, “Eleven-Forty-five.”

 “Well, a girl does need her beauty sleep.” He could hear the tease in your voice.

 “You have more than your fair share.”

 You bit your bottom lip as you stared at him for a few seconds. When you looked away, he saw the soft smile tickle your lips.

 “Is it yours?”

 “I’m a night person,” he replied. You nodded.

 “What were you thinking?

 “I know a great bar. The drinks are good, and the atmosphere is even better.”

 You didn’t speak right away; you watched him instead. He wanted to know what you were thinking so badly.

 “Either you’re looking for an excuse to drink more Guinness, or you actually like my company.”

 He chuckled, “I have Guinness at home, so it’s not that,” he clarified.

 Neither of you spoke for a few moments, and each passing second he felt the draw to you intensify. He wondered if you too felt it, you looked like you did. When you cleared your throat, it brought him back to reality.

 “Okay. We can do that. Where is it?”

 “On Cantina about fifteen minutes away.”

 You nodded and turned to your car. He held the door as you climbed into the driver’s seat.

 “See you there,” you said before he shut your door.

  ~~~~~~~~

He was there first. It was no surprise he was sure he blew two red lights on the way. When you walked in, it didn’t take any time at all for you to pick up right where you left off. Things were that easy. You ordered Tequila with pineapple juice, which just furthered his notion that you were this adventurous spitfire that he was sure would keep him on his toes.

 “So you split time between London and LA,” you guessed.

 “Pretty much, most of my time is in London, though. I have a flat there. I come here for meetings mainly; then, I’m back home.

 “Which do you prefer, here or there?”

 “Eck, tricky question. I’m here for work. It’s easier here for work, but London is closer to Jersey and my family. The weather is better here, but privacy is better in London for the most part. I feel more me in London.”

 “So you’re big on privacy.”

 He took a sip of his Gin and Tonic and nodded. “I haven’t had it any other way. I’m still lucky to retain most of my privacy. I've been spoiled,” he joked as he looked at you. “I take it that’s different for you.”

 You shrugged and finished your tequila then raised your hand for another. “Somewhat. I’m hounded by the paps wherever I go except Australia. I manage it well, it’s not too bad, but then again, I’ve had some time to adjust. It could very well be a hard pill to swallow for someone not accustomed to it,” you voiced.

 With every tequila shot, you had the more of your personality came out. You knocked them down back to back, further confirming everything he’d guessed earlier. After four shots, that was when your silliness came out and the curse words. While this side of you wasn’t too drastically different than the one at dinner, he did note that you had been holding back then.

 The two of you went back and forth, speaking different languages in full conversation, and it was the perfect way he’d want to spend any date. When he turned the conversation onto you knowing Gaelic, he admitted he hadn’t been one hundred percent successful with learning it and was at an abysmal forty-five percent you outright laughed at him. He suckered you into saying something, but when you spoke, he didn’t expect to be even more attracted to you because of it.

 He also didn’t expect to let his inner geek out when he confessed his love of ancient history, Egyptology, Greek, and Ancient Rome. And technology. He expected you to look at him like he was some alien when he told you that he enjoyed building computers and putting together small technical crafts, but you didn’t. Instead, you looked genuinely interested.

 After a few hours, you’d moved to a dark corner of the back, and both of you were visibly loser and were no longer holding your tongues.

 “So if curiosity kills the cat, I guess I’m dying tonight,” he began, leaning closer to you so you could hear him over the music. You smiled widely. “Did you look through my phone?”

 You snorted and laughed before you slapped your hands to your face covering it. That was all he needed. You brought your hands through your hair and tousled it.

 “How else was I to know whose phone it was?”

 He nodded and took another sip from his beer. “How much did you see?”

 “Well—not much,” you timidly began. That was when he eyed you. Your adorable “yikes” face had him snickering. “A few pictures, names on texts, a few contacts,” you confessed.

 He nodded and turned his body to yours. “Pictures?”

 “Don’t worry, I didn’t see any nudes,” you rushed out

 “I don’t have nudes.”

 “No, just suggestive nudes,” you countered.

 He smiled widely and nodded. The look on your face said you were embarrassed.

 “Bingo,” he shouted.

 “Yeah. I promise I saw nothing after that picture,” you assured.

 After he took a few gulps from his bottle, he shrugged. “Interesting, I didn’t think it was possible for me to feel more exposed than in my Superman leotard.”

 You laughed loudly bringing the eyes of the bar patrons to which you dropped your forehead on his arm, hiding your face. That had the two of you burst into a fit of laughter for the next few minutes.

 “How embarrassing,” he finished.

 “I really shouldn’t say this, but you have nothing to be embarrassed about. No big deal, right? You’re an actor, you’ve been in situations worse than this.”

 He nodded because it was true, but that paled in comparison to this.

 “Did you look through my phone?”

 With a smile, he nodded. “I did. I fought not to, but who was I kidding I couldn’t not look. One to find out whose phone it was, then curiosity got the better of me,” he fully divulged.

 As soon as he said it, you began laughing at him. He deserved it.

 “How much did you see?” He snapped his head forward and tried to keep a straight face.

 “That much, huh,” you guessed. “I don’t have nudes, so I’m safe there.”

 “Are you sure?”

 You looked to think for a few moments. He saw the terror in your eyes, and the moment you began to second guess what you had on your phone.

 “Some pictures, contacts, texts not the messages though just names,” he said, deciding to put you out of your misery.

 “I completely get that feeling now. While I have nothing to hide, I’m not shy in any way, shape, or form, but it feels strange to have someone see me naked without me wanting them to.”

 “I understand.”

 Your eyes met, and that was where they stayed for a long while, and still, it didn’t feel awkward.

 “Look at it this way. The mystery is off the table now and the uncertainty about seeing the other naked. Been there, done that,” he joked.

 Again, you laughed loudly, which had him laughing with you.

 “Interesting view.” When his straight face returned, your eyes met.

 The draw to you almost had him leaning in to you.

 “It’s late,” you quietly said.

 “It is,” he said before he finished his beer. “Can I walk you to your car?”

 You nodded, then the two of you made a move to leave with you settling the tab before he even reached for his card. When the bartender took your card, you winked at him. You were a keeper, he thought. Once you stepped outside, he saw your shiver.

 “Oooh, it got colder.” He took off his sweater and draped it around your shoulders, which brought your eyes to his.

 “Thank you.”

 “My pleasure.”

 You slowly walked to your car, so slowly you barely moved. It gave him all the time to think of something witty to say, something that wouldn’t come off weird. You made him nervous, and it was a task and a half to pretend as if you didn’t. When you stopped at the car and turned to him, your smile was soft.

 “Thank you for staying for a main course and a nightcap.” Your smile got wider.

 “I could still stand you,” you offered with a smile and a shrug.

 “Thank god, I had a lot riding on that.”

 You guffawed, “I bet.” Together you laughed, making him not want the night to end.

 You didn’t make a move to get into your car, and he wondered if you were waiting for him to make a move. He didn’t want to make a move, and you be offended. He watched you bite your bottom lip, and it was then he fully decided you were what I he wanted and that he would make you his. You dug in your clutch and held out his phone.

 “Before I forget and we do this whole thing again.”

 He took the device and scaled its weight in his hand. It felt foreign somehow.

 “Thank you,” he echoed as he held yours out to you. You didn’t hesitate taking it, but you didn’t unlock it and look through it. Instead, your eyes were right back on his.

 “Thank you.”

 “You’re welcome,” he added before you cleared your throat again and looked away.

 “You should hurry and text Francesca and Abby back, they seem to be getting anxious or desperate, you decide. An anxious or desperate woman is not a good thing for a man,” you advised as you opened your car door.

 “Get home safe.”

 “Will do,” you answered back once inside. “You do the same.”

 The draw was still there. He doubted it would go away any time soon.

 “Goodbye, Henry.”

 This one felt different than all the others. The others felt teasing. This one felt final. He didn’t like how it made him feel.

 “See you later, Aliya.

 He was not accepting this was the end. As he watched you pull out, he asserted, this was just the beginning.

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

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[rvmmm21]

. you know who i am? .

k, so i didn’t mean for this to get so out of hand. also, my first time writing in present tense? idk how to feel about it, but i guess it’s different. it felt so different writing for like actual humans lol. my first ‘normal’ fic, this is!

please for the sake of this making sense can we all pretend jennie, joy and irene are around the same age? also look who had fun with brand names. moi.

anyways this is [badgirl/bully!joohyun ‘persuading’ clumsy freshman!seungwan to be her assignment buddy] 

...

University culture is grating.

It’s overwhelming and it suffocates her. She has no time to prepare herself for the apparent runway the halls have become, what with the stupid-rich kids treating every day like it’s a fashion show; Seungwan can barely blink from one person to the next without being smacked across the face with fur coats from Chanel, Louis Vuitton sunglasses hidden under Prada nylon bucket hats and Off-White tracksuits tucked into Balenciaga socks. She hadn’t considered a future in law enforcement, but had she done so, anyone who tucked their trousers into their socks mid-calf would find themselves behind bars with the rest of the criminal scum. End of.

Just as she dusts her hands of that smug little sentiment, Seungwan finds herself with a face full of hair, and an even bigger nose full of what smells like laundry detergent. She lets out an embarrassing squeal, and the girl turns round to face her. A ghost of a scowl brushes across her face before she fixes her with an indiscernible gaze.

That scowl is an awful colour on a face as pretty as yours, she impulsively thinks.

Seungwan knows no more about the history of art and the intricacies of sculpture than the average Joe, but she’s sure Michelangelo missed the mark with David. She inwardly laughs at the thought of the man dedicating his entire being to crafting his flimsy idea of ‘perfection’ when she’d just bumped into it; the real thing. Of course, if that was defined by forming new constellations from faded freckles on flawless skin, or vantablack tresses framing sharp features like a painting, then yes; she was, by very definition, ‘the perfect (wo)man’. Easily outdoing anyone within a 50-metre radius.

Heck, make that 500.

The girl glares intimidation and Seungwan manages to save herself the humiliation of drooling in front of the white-hot beauty and her friends with a quick gulp, already feeling crimson seeping into her cheeks.

Perfect; now that she’s watched whatever new potential friendship this was blow up in her face, all she has to do is avoid her at all costs from here on out.

She mouths a haphazard apology and zooms past before anything can come of it, keeping her head down even after she’s well out of sight. Seulgi, Seulgi, Seulgi, save me, she brisk walks and begs all the way to class.

~~~~~~~~~~

A small commotion rings through the lecture hall of keyboard clicks and lethargic shuffles, calling to attention the girl who’s just spilt her drink down her front, now frantically digging around in her backpack for anything she can use to soak it up. A few jeering giggles are stifled, meanwhile students close by donate tissues and sympathetic looks. They are gratefully accepted with rapid-fire bows and machine-gun stuttered apologies.

“That freshman’s just ruined her rep, huh?” Jennie chuckles, “blindly walking into people… can’t even keep liquid in the cup. Give her a dog collar and a sign and she’s good to go.”

“Eh, I thought it was cute.”

Jennie’s retort comes quick.

“Sooyoung, you think anything in a skirt is cute.”

“What,” the girl says, ignoring the implication, “Haetnimie doesn’t wear skirts. And she’s not even wearing one right now. Plus, I didn’t say ‘she’s cute’, I said ‘it’s cute’. Learn the difference, idiot… it’s not like I wanna have at her or anything…”

Jennie shoots her an incredulous look and Sooyoung relents the banter. They both turn their attention to the girl sitting next to them, completely un-present in the moment. Sooyoung notices who she’s looking at and leans in to nudge her.

“Joohyun,” she whispers, poking her in the ribs when it’s obvious their friend is well on her way to signing a contract with NASA with how apparently well accustomed to space she is, “what do you think of her? Or are you still mad she walked into you?”

“Nah, forget it,” Jennie waves her off before she’s even had a chance to respond, “she’s not interested. I had to literally pay her money to go on a stupid double date with me in high school. I washed five cars for her to not even hold his hand once during the movie.”

Instead of participating, Joohyun sighs, casting the girl in question a seemingly uninterested stare. Unbothered eyes take in the sight she’s presented with: frustrated brows knitted together under a wispy caramel fringe and a blot of taro milk tea the size of Canada staining her baby blue jumper.

“I want her.”

The words are so simple her friends almost miss them entirely.

Sooyoung and Jennie battle for first place in an impromptu competition of ‘who’s-the-most-shocked’.

“You’re joking! Yah, you’re so annoying seriously, now?! You couldn’t have ‘wanted’ Min-seok in year nine?! I paid good, hard cash for that stupid boy!”

Joohyun looks at her, smug as a cat.

“I did it for you, Jennie. I didn’t even remember his name was Min-ho.”

“Min-seok.”

“Yeah, right.”

Sooyoung, wide-eyed and on the verge of passing out, grabs Joohyun by the shoulders, ignoring the glare she receives for it. “Joohyun, seriously? You’re serious. You want her like want her? Or want her like you wanted that cookbook after that trial week of Food Tech during summer break?”

Joohyun regards her, absolutely blasé. “I don’t follow recipes.”

“Exactly. Are you play-”

Sooyoung’s statement dies down with the rest of the class as the lecturer walks in. Furious clicking, hurricane scribbles and flipping pages are all that remain as the lesson kicks off, Jennie and Sooyoung casually scrolling through Instagram while the professor speaks. Joohyun leans forward, elbows on desk and chin resting on interlocked fingers. Her full attention is on the poor girl on the other side of the hall, intermittently peeling the cold, damp fabric away from her body, face flushed and avoiding all eye contact. Joohyun snickers at how uncomfortable it must be to have to sit through class in a wet jumper, how awkward and squeamish she looks.

Strawberry-tinted lips curl into the faintest smirk.

Hello cutie.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Yah! Kang Seul-Gi!” Seungwan calls out to chocolate-swirly space buns and baggy gym clothes hurtling towards her from across campus grounds, “where the heck were you?!”

“Sorry sorry! Overslept!”

“What!? Your class starts at noon! … and this is like… day 1!”

The girl looks like she’s barely had the chance to screw her head on the right way as she joins Seungwan on the steps of the university entrance.

Seungwan’s sweating buckets; physically and metaphorically, both from the waves of humidity and her all-exclusive one-idiot circus show this morning in class. That little muck up makes it to the tippy top of the endless list of embarrassing things Seungwan has stored in her long-term memory.

“You okay?”

Seungwan palms rosy cheeks as she takes another mouthful of her rainbow sherbet cone.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened to me.”

Seulgi chortles as her best friend recounts her ordeal, trying to subdue the sea of smart alec remarks bubbling under her skin.

“So that was great, too. And now I’m a laughing stock. A meme. They’re probably editing my stupid face as I speak…”

Seulgi reverts back to the first incident. Of course she would.

“Sooo… not like in the dramas then?”

Seungwan hangs her head, “not at all… she looked like she wanted to kill me.”

Seulgi lets out a snort before prodding her with more curious questions. The cogs in Seungwan’s brain churn and stutter as she tries to filter as many redundant adjectives as possible, only using ones she deems absolutely necessary to describe the most beautifully terrifying girl she’s ever seen.

Just then, as if Seungwan had meant to conjure hell itself, the three girls make an appearance from round the corner, chatting amongst themselves and taking Seungwan and Seulgi by surprise. The latter glances down where steely fingers are squeezing her wrist, as if that’d activate some magical cloak of invisibility. Seungwan’s as good as swallowed her tongue, shakily motioning to the girl in the middle of the black velvet storm with her eyes and a few nose twitches.

“H-her…” she stutters, finally getting her brain into gear after they leave, “… her.”

Innocent eyes double in size at the realisation.

“Wha-wait no, her?! You bumped into… her?! Her, Bae Joohyun leader of killer senior pack Bae Joohyun?”

Seungwan’s heart only thumps faster at the panic in Seulgi’s voice, but her words still mean nothing. The other girl swipes the dangling question marks off the top of her friend’s clueless head.

“Yo Wan-ah, you have to lay low. I mean why would you even – oh geez wow you really messed up. Can’t you look where you’re – I can’t even begin to – why would you – oh my gosh!”

Seulgi’s disjointed sentences allow enlightenment to trickle in and Seungwan slaps a hand over her forehead, mortified.

Oh god no. That’s the Bae Joohyun?

She’d heard the rumours. Many, rumours. Bae Joohyun who makes her juniors cry. Bae Joohyun; precious daughter of the most elusive mafia gang leader in all of Korea. Bae Joohyun; ice queen senior, sole roost-ruler of Hanyang University and the biggest bully you’ll ever meet.

Positively preposterous, empty claims with no evidence whatsoever to back them up… she hopes.

“Pft yeah okay she’s… mean, but she’s not like… jesus or anything she can’t… like… part the Red Sea or, turn water into vodka I don’t know,” Seungwan tries and fails at consoling herself, receiving nothing but an apologetic pat on the back from the girl beside her.

“Yeah well… she’s not the messiah but everyone treats her like it. And for the sake of your own neck, you’d better start too. Watch out, Wan-ah.”

Seungwan hadn’t paid any mind to those wet-eared freshmen whom she’d overheard during orientation gossiping about Joohyun and her charming little posse; but perhaps she should have.

She gulps, too afraid to think of anything else.

~~~~~~~~~~

Seungwan often fantasizes at work. There has to be some way to pass the time, after all.

Deep down she’s a sucker for romance, she knows it far too well; she envisions herself ten years down the line, letting whoever she has on the other end of the phone know that she’ll be home soon, that work has just been extra grueling today, and that she cannot wait to give them a cuddle. She’ll stir the dinner pot while she tells them stories, pausing in between to remind her lover how beautiful they are. Perhaps one day, the honour will be hers, to see her soulmate walking down the aisle.

But as the tinkling of the doorbell rings through her café, Seungwan files those cloudy fantasies for later and greets her first customers with a smile.

She hasn’t been sleeping very well, worrying her mind with ridiculous thoughts and impossible scenarios. All involving Joohyun as a tick-tocky alligator and herself as none other than Captain ‘I’m-actually-innocent-why-are-you-still-trying-to-eat-me’ Hook.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s five minutes to closing time. Seungwan suppresses the yawn in her chest and blinks away the moisture in her eyes. Just zero to sixty, five times in your head. You got this, Seungwan. Gosh, there’s no one in the café and hardly anyone outside. She briefly contemplates closing early.

“Small iced Americano.”

“Coming r – aii!! Ai…!”

Seungwan’s adrenaline spikes so high she could serve it ice cold in a coffee cup right now. Caught completely off guard, she begins stammering nonsense behind the till, crinkling the leather of her dark brown work apron and then using the hem of her polo shirt to wring clammy palms none the drier. All the while her customer stands there, brow quirked and card held out between slender fingers. Her expression, although slightly amused, threatens her to take her money, or else.

Before she can open her mouth, a buttery voice snaps her out of her trance.

“Hello, Seung – wan… hey, don’t we have Korean Literature together?”

Seungwan tries not to spontaneously combust on the job as she instinctively slaps a hand over her name tag. It’s useless though, it is now known. Known to her, of all people. The notorious Bae Joohyun; dressed in Acne jeans and an over-sized midnight Balenciaga cardigan, she looks like any other young, caffeine-dependent university student. But Seungwan knows a lot better.

Oh god save me… what the hell is she doing here!? This has to be a set up. She’s here for me. I’m going to die tonight. Mummy, daddy I love you.

“J-J-Juh…”

She can’t say it. All the years of schooling; learning the alphabet and how to enunciate your words drain out through the holes in her ears. She gawks dumbly, moving her head in what could be considered to be a nod.

“Ah, I thought I recognised you,” she doesn’t even bother trying to sound surprised, “I’m Joohyun.”

Don’t I know.

All Seungwan can do is nod again, hating herself for even breathing right now.

Joohyun clicks her tongue and fiddles with the card in her hand, impatient, “soooo… is this Americano free, or…?”

Yes, yes it’s free, please just take it and go! I’ll upgrade it to an extra-large if you want, on me! If it means I’m spared for the rest of my student life, take it all! Jesus, how did you even find me?!

“Ah, yes. Sorry! Uh, yes that’ll be um two fif – two… two thirty.”

There’s a shaky exchange of a debit card and a forgotten peace treaty iced Americano before Seungwan takes an unconscious shuffle back from the register, eyes glued to the smudge on the toe of her right sneaker, unable to meet Joohyun’s piercing gaze for too long.

“Thank you, Seungwan.”

The way she lingers on the ‘S’ whispers shivers down the girl’s spine. She glances up at the worst possible time, too, nearly jumping out of her mismatched Muji socks when she sees Joohyun’s hibiscus-tinted lips bloom into a coy smirk.

“I’ll see you around.”

And with what a shivering Seungwan could’ve sworn was a terrible attempt at a wink, Joohyun is gone. Clutching at her chest, she tries to slow her accelerated heartrate, praying she doesn’t need heart surgery after what she’s just been through.

Seulgi’s so hearing about this.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Daebak,” Sooyoung scoffs, side-eyeing Joohyun as she twiddles her pen.

“What else did you say?” Jennie presses, taking a sip of her chai latte.

Joohyun merely hums, disclosing no further details of her little cafe incident. She misses Jennie’s disbelieving grin when the walking, talking definition of awkward bumbles into the lecture hall, just on time, armful of texts and messy cinnamon locks matted to her face.

Sooyoung can’t resist a jest. “Joohyun, look. It’s idiocy on legs.”

Joohyun bites back a snort as her eyes follow the girl stumbling and murmuring apologies all the way to her seat. She slumps into the chair with burning cheeks, brushing her hair back with her fingers and fiddling with her gingerbread fringe. Too cute, Joohyun thinks, gritting her teeth.

It happens about mid-way in the class. The mention of pair work triggers the uniform eye-roll, groan and grumble combo, more so from the seniors, who sure as hell don’t want to be paired with icky, snot-nosed first-years who can barely lift their spoons to their mouths. The grumbling evaporates when it is stated that, although compulsory, it is not a fixed-paired assignment.

Seungwan breathes a sigh of relief along with a few others, content to set up camp in the aisles of the library, perfectly undisturbed. But she suddenly feels paler than chalk; flashbacks of heeled boots, midnight cardigans and heart surgery flooding into her veins once more when she catches a pair of stealthy pupils regarding her from across the room. A deceptively sweet smile sparkling on those dreaded lips, breath-taking and utterly petrifying all at once. Even from the other side of a bloody lecture theatre, Bae Joohyun has Seungwan sweating bullets and unconsciously fidgeting at her collar to release steam no one else can see.

About a minute away from hurling herself out the nearest window, Seungwan diverts her attention to her notebook at the last second. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Seungwan stabs her chopstick into the egg yolk, watching it dribble all over her rice. She’s jealous of her own best friend who doesn’t have to live every waking hour with a red sniper laser dot on her back.

Should’ve majored in art too, goddamnit, she curses, poking her lunch in a dazed stupor.

“Wan-ah!”

She scoffs at the familiarity, but Seulgi’s crescent moon grin makes Seungwan momentarily forget.

~~~~~~~~~~

The black cursive of Han Kang’s literature stares up at her as she tries to digest what she’s reading, but she swears her brain allocates the worst times for that sneaky Bae Joohyun to pop up like an unwanted advertisement. Seems like now, she’s going to have to sit through an entire trilogy.

Despite the crippling dread, Seungwan can’t help but wonder. They’re so silly, but she wonders them anyway. She feels free to let her mind wander in the safety of the university library.

Bae Joohyun; Seungwan’s mind is unchanged; she’s the most beautiful girl she’s laid eyes on. It’s a unique kind of beauty; mysteriously edgy, knife-like and femme fatale. The grin Joohyun gave her in class this morning, she knows she should be running from it, but it doesn’t stop the fact that it’s been playing in her head on repeat ever since.

Seungwan unintentionally imagines what it would be like to kiss that sunset-infused smirk right off her face.

Too bad she’s a mean one, she sighs.

She doesn’t get much further with the actual task at hand when her blood-pressure plummets; she watches leader of the killer senior pack, Bae Joohyun, artlessly sit down in the chair next to her. It’s like the world stops spinning for the second it takes their eyes to meet, and Seungwan quivers in her seat, thoughts of literature fleeing out the back of her brain.

Trying to be polite, she gives her a courteous nod and returns to her reading. But Joohyun just sits there, staring, peppering her body with smoking bullet holes – it frightens her in the weirdest way. She can’t help the tiny bubble of… excitement? At the fact that Hanyang’s notorious Bae Joohyun is sitting next to her. Probably to get close enough to kill her, of course, but she’d count her blessings, no matter how terrifying. The thread finally snaps, and Seungwan is able to channel her inner stone statue no more, wordlessly excusing herself and stumbling to the bathroom.

It’s empty and silent; exactly what she needs. She flicks some cool water over the burning in her cheeks and dabs at the heat welled in the corners of her eyes.

But just as she’s about to leave, Joohyun’s standing in the doorway; cloaked in all her intimidating aura and eclipsing her only exit.

“Bathroom break so soon?” Joohyun’s voice drips into her ears like melted honey as she observes a wry smile crawl onto her face, “we’ve barely gotten started. Let’s get back to work… partner.”

It’s kicking in only now what Joohyun is saying. And it takes everything Seungwan has to formulate a pathetic response.

“Oh right, a-about that,” she nervously chuckles, averting her gaze and scratching the back of her neck, “uh, I-I was just um… I don’t wanna drag anyone down with – you know because you’re a senior and all – was m-maybe thinking –”

She doesn’t get very far when Joohyun begins advancing, walking towards her with such sure, dominating strides Seungwan has no choice but to back away, the piercing squeaks of Adidas sneakers easily drowning out the clicking of Louboutin heeled boots. Joohyun sports that coy smirk the whole time she’s cornering poor Seungwan, further and further back, until…

A tiny yelp is torn from her as her back hits the wall. Seungwan strains up to meet her eyes, 5 inch boots are a very useful intimidation tool. Her heart feels about as fragile as sugar glass, and she thinks it would do her good to invest in those styrofoam packing peanuts and a roll of caution tape.  

Joohyun observes the little caramel-haired mouse girl she’s caught; pressed against the cool, beige tile, both hands out in front of her, quivering like a jello pile. She quickly notes the way the top of Seungwan’s head just about grazes the bottom of the wall-mounted paper towel dispenser, and it stretches her grin even further. She looks irresistible, those doe eyes the colour of warm cocoa. Who knew she had a thing for sweet faces, well-intentions and weak-hearts?

Realising her hands aren’t doing anything to keep the other girl at bay, Seungwan drops them like a tonne of bricks - she’s never felt so small and helpless in her life. The rich scent of vanilla and mint tickles her nose; Joohyun’s too close, and she really needs those fragile stickers to go over the thumping in her chest. But she also wants to nuzzle in closer to that intoxicating shampoo smell.

“P-please… I-I didn’t mean to…”

Her voice sounds so tiny and fragile, it tugs on Joohyun’s heartstrings.

“You know who I am?” she demands in somewhat of a growl, caging the smaller girl in with both arms pressed on either side of her head, causing her to gasp out, “you’ve heard?”

Seungwan shrinks a little more, petunias searing onto her milky cheeks at the proximity, but terror-stricken nonetheless. It’s burning, and it’s too much.

A small ‘mm’ and a teary nod is all she can offer.

Joohyun shoots her a challenging smirk, a kaleidoscope of obsidian pebbles flicker in her darkened eyes as she brings a single finger under the girl’s chin, tilting her so she’s forced to look up.

“And you still think you have a choice?”

Seungwan wishes she could rear up at the challenge, hammer some humility into that smug attitude in front of her; put Bae Joohyun in her place. But who is she to change the way the world works? Girls like Joohyun toy with what they want, and get what they toy with; the natural order of things Seungwan has no hope of re-routing. Her resolve, her dignity and everything she’s built up in her 20 years on earth crumbles at her feet; she doesn’t bother picking up the pieces.

With that, she looks up at the girl who still has her locked in with her eyes alone, and meekly shakes her head.

Seungwan can finally breathe when Joohyun detaches herself from the wall and runs both hands down the front of her blouse. She hears a chuckle and before she knows it, there’s an arm around her waist, moving them in tandem.

She doesn’t see the triumphant smile etched into Joohyun’s rosebud lips, like she’s swallowed a coat hanger. All she knows is that they’re now bound by this assignment, and that Joohyun is leaving with exactly what she came for.

Seungwan hides a shy grin of her own.

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 11- Ashes in Asklepion

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

A storm grows in the Valley of Danes, dark skies and death waiting to bear down on the hermits and their new allies. This time, they won’t run from the husks. This time, they fight

Warning: Minor character death, battle scene

____________________________________________

“They’re just standing there.” Wels whispers, pulling his sword to rest on the metal pauldron of his armor. “Like...like…”

“Like an army at attention.” False finishes. A whole line of husk monsters, grey flakes falling off monochrome forms. Devoid of life both in color and eyes. They were just that- husks. The remains of an animal, without soul or life to brighten the beast.

Tango opens his wings wide, and takes off into the air. Behind the hermits, the remaining members of the Asklepions are steeling themselves for another battle. Scar bites his lip, looking at the dirt and bloodstained white robes. None of these people should be fighting for their lives. None of these people should be using their healing powers to kill. Whoever is using this dark magic, using it against a peaceful guild like this, is a sick soul. Who even attacks a healing guild? They hold no danger. 

Tango returns to solid ground. His broad red wings brush against the ashen dirt, smoke curling into the sky as embers reignite with the air around it. “I don’t see a crystal, I don’t see anything like what we saw in Gildara.” 

“Do you know when they’ll attack?” TFC questions, turning to Galena. 

The elderly healer nods her head, and points to the sky above the army. “Do you see that dark cloud? It is no storm, it is billowing ash, rising like an eruption from a volcano. Upon the first strike of red lightning, it will send the army into a frenzy. And they will attack. The thunder is their war horn. We don’t have long.” 

“Scar, Stress, Ren, and Joe. Go and help build up defenses as quickly as possible.” TFC waves a hand in the direction of the guild hall, the black veins still visible on his healing arm. “Focus around where the wounded are hiding. Impulse, Iskall, and BDubs- I want you to set up traps. Hopefully we can slow them down, or get rid of at least a few.” 

“Can’t there be a way to free these creatures from the dark magic?” Micha questions, holding his hands to his chest. “It hurts me to see them in such pain, but death?” 

“They’re already dead.” Xisuma states. “There is no soul, no life left in those creatures. Dark magic is just puppeteering them.” 

Micha steps back, lip quivering. Zedaph offers a warm smile, understanding the kipling’s worries. But Iris’s jaw clenches, fingers wrapping around a brand new weapon- a hoe. “I’m tired of waiting to die! I’m tired of waiting for them to attack us!” 

Iris lets out a hoarse yell, and streaks past the hermits. She jumps through a rising wall of stone, crossing the field of flowers and raising her tool high. “Iris no!” 

Lightning strikes. And the horde washes forward, down the hill, ashen forms of monsters and beasts roiling like a wave across the burnt grass. Smoke kicking up from the hooves and paws and claws, digging into the ruined soil, hungry for death. Iris’s magic circle appears, as white as the dress she wears, brushing outward and towards the snapping maws before her. The equine legs of an uisage, once sea-green fur a withered grey the color of a storm at sea, snap under the weight of her magic. 

And jaws snap into Iris. The deadly fangs of a chimera, venom dripping from the fangs, grab hold of the young healer. The entire valley of Danes falls silent, the Hermits unable to take their eyes away from the sight as Iris falls still, her form losing it’s color. 

Losing it’s life. Sapped from her, leaving only the husked form of the wizard behind. By the time the chimera has let go, training it’s eyes on the remaining living targets, Iris is gone- yet still standing. The husk remains of Iris rolls it’s shoulders, skin the color of flint. Even the stains on it’s dress had lost all color, all life. A few flecks of ashes brush into the sky as it blinks, eyes devoid of any life. There were no irises on Iris- no soul left to fill it’s eyes. 

It’s fierce gaze is turned back on the hermits and Iris’s once fellow healers. The husk’s hand reaches out, and a magic circle appears. Just as corrupted and erratic as the husk the hermits faced way back in Gildara. Realization hits Wels first. “Get down!” 

He grabs False by the arm, pulling her to the side a breath before the released magic strikes her. It doesn’t miss, instead lashing into a healer. The sickening crack of bones rattles across the broken complex surrounding them. The other hermits roll away from the magic, Stress leaping from her broken ice wall and tucking into a roll. The swarm of monsters have reached their defenses. The massive body of grootslang careens into Scar’s stone walls. It’s twisted tusks dig into the ground and attempt to rip through the material. One tusk breaks off, the debris falling apart like ash and clay. The jagged end spews smoke, but the monster doesn’t stop, continuing to throw it’s weight against the walls. 

The hermits fall back, bracing for the sieged gates to collapse. Wels pulls free his sword, metal glimmering as he conducts magic through the blade to buff his allies. BDubs wraps his arms in vines, hearing the crunching noise of Keralis snacking and activating his powers. Jevin waves his hand, magic swirling to life before him, and a squadron of blue slime warriors collect together, standing at attention. Ready to fight. Team ZIT bump their fists, embers of magic and mischief sparking free from each one’s hand. Cleo and False brandish their own weapons, and from behind Iskall and Grian snap their fingers, circles appearing in their hands. Mumbo attempts to call his own magic, but it stutters with each crack of stone and ice. 

The ice has nearly collapsed. Mumbo whimpers, drawing his circle again. It fails once more. His hands are shaking as he presses the pad of his index finger into the air. A wrinkled hand rests on Mumbo’s sleeve, warm and comforting. Galena whispers her finger close, completely ignoring the impending army. Mumbo kneels down, letting the elderly healer whisper in his ear. “I know you can do it, sonny boy. Take a deep breath-” She breathes in, “and let out all those worries.” 

When her voice exhales, Mumbo blinks away magic cresting his long, black lashes. His hands have stopped shaking, his heart stopped pounding. He attempts to draw his circle again- it works. “Wha-what did you do? Did you buff me, give me strength?” 

“Not all healers deal in physical wounds. But in the end, it’s up to the body to heal itself- we just help it along.” Galena smiles, and steps back. 

Ice cracks and stone shatters, raining down upon the healers and hermits. Joe brushes his quill to the side, and the debris goes flying, as if smacked by a giant’s hand. Grian blows away the remaining bits and pieces, until only pebbles bounce off their heads. They have more important things to focus on. 

The army of husks surge through the opening. Immediately, a tarasque barrels through the hermits. A spiny shell tears at cloaks and bowls over those who don’t jump away fast enough. Grian and Tango take to the sky, red and white wings beating against the air. Grian waves down to Cleo. “A pack of kishi are coming in on your left!” 

Cleo turns, green lips curling into a smile. She pulls her captain’s hat low. Strikes her blade into the ground. If there was one thing a healer’s complex had, it was ghosts, ghouls, and skeletons. Misty white and sickly green transparent beings rise from the ground. All Cleo has to do is point her sword. The undead attack the possessed, ghosts haunting forms and skeletons charging into battle. 

Black and green robes flutter above Cleo, and Xisuma tosses a spell into the horde of kishi. The ravaging, two faced pack of monsters are engulfed by the void The ghosts and skeletons remain. Xisuma’s magic is as precise as everything else he does. His boots scrape against the stone walkway, landing next to Cleo. “You distract and I’ll engulf?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Cleo grins, and the two take off into battle. They run past Stress, Ren, and Iskall. Iskall thrusts his fist into the stone, the ground erupting as radioactive iskallium seeps up into the attacking monsters. The green goo erupts upward, and with a giggle Stress freezes the material. Ren closes his eyes. His imagination goes to work. The ruddy color of his circle fuses into magical wheels, and he sends the imagined cart trundling into the monsters. Spiking the radioactive ice into a drake, a hippogriff, and two lavellans. The husk forms collapse into piles of ash, dark magic billowing with the forms. Swept into the wind and away from the valley. 

The battle continues on. Lifesavers become lifetakers, healers fighting side by side with the hermits. An illegal guild fighting next to one of the most renowned licensed healers in the world. At first, they were winning. Defeating the husks as fast as they arrived, only a few scratches and wounds delt across the survivors. 

At first. In the clash of battle, Doc hears a shout. The elongated fangs of a many-mouthed cipatli digs into his metal arm, but he ignores the gnashing teeth against the wires and magical components of his arm in lieu of finding the source of the scream. Through the battle, past the explosion of Impulse as he leaps away, Micha is on the ground. 

The husk of Iris looms over him, black magic circle spun and ready to release. Doc pushes through the battle, rushing forward and ripping off the scaly husk on his arm. He can hear Micha begging, calling out to Iris. “It’s me, your friend! Iris, please you have to be in there! You know me, I’m Micha!” 

The husk doesn’t blink, doesn’t flinch. His words are falling on deaf, unhearing ears. Iris’s thumb comes to rest on her middle finger, pressing down and ready to snap. Ready to release it’s magic and surely do something horrible to Micha. 

Doc isn’t going to let that happen. He growls, and thrusts his own hand forward. A stone statue creaks, and rises from her pedestal. Gigantic arms, cloaked in smooth marble robes, rise up into the ashen sky. Doc closes his eyes.

And opens the stone statue’s. He can see through her eyes, see the husked remains of Iris standing at her feet. WIth little second thought, he punts the husked remains away from Micha. Iris disappears in a puff of ash and smoke, form released from the dark magic that sapped her energy. Her soul. 

Doc straightens the statue’s back, the ten foot tall form looming over the fight before him. He watches Micha stand, only for one of his fellow healers to fall. Doc steps forward, watching as Grian falls from the sky. Struck by the massive wings of a Roc, and thrown into the collapsing roof of a building. For being the group’s healer, he had a way of getting himself hurt. 

They were at a stalemate. Hermits just barely keeping the husks from moving further, bracing their wounded bodies against the monsters and losing ground as fast as they gain. He could even see himself, standing stock still in the middle of the battle. Scar was at his side, haphazardly throwing up a wall around the body of his friend. Protecting his physical form while his mind was within the statue he controls. 

TFC steps back, watching as the massive stone statue throws it’s weight against the grootslang, tussling with it in a fight worthy of the ancient ones. He can see they aren’t winning- but they aren’t losing either. Last time, they fled the dark magic. They didn’t understand it. But this time, they can’t run. They have to protect the valley of Danes, and the few remaining healers left. How can they turn the tide? 

TFC watches Etho jump from shadow to shadow, landing blows against any unsuspecting husk. He tips his head up, looking at the darkened storm above the monsters. And an idea sparks like a flash of lightning. “Grian, use your wind magic against the storm above you!” TFC calls out to Grian, watching the winged hermit pry himself free from the collapsed building he was flung into. “Joe, can you summon something big to control the weather?” 

“You betcha.” Joe pulls out his quill, sidestepping a raging ngepet. The wind picks up around him, Grian’s wings pulsating and picking up force with each sweep. Joe doesn’t bother himself, letting his quill glide along his paper, writing out a poem as his elaborately embroidered cape snaps against his legs. “One big bird coming right up.” 

He signs the last letter of the poem, and from the storm a shadow appears. A thunderbird, with the caw as sharp as lightning, joins Grian in collapsing the storm. Sunlight seeps through, and when TFC looks back at the fighting hermits, he sees the tide has turned. The storm weakens, as does the husks. They don’t stop fighting, even taking down another healer and slashing a cut into Zedaph’s arm, but they’re losing. 

The husks don’t back down, even when the last monster is backed into a corner. Snarling and on full offensive. Something about dark magic must make them violent beyond thought. No sense of self preservation- TFC can only guess since it’s already dead, what more is there to lose? 

The last of the smoky grey ash cloud disappears, and False strikes down the ngepet that earlier tried to take out Joe. Silence falls across the gardens, only the sound of wind and Doc’s statue returning to her pedestal as commentary to the scene before them. They killed the entire army, drove off the storm. But not without heavy losses. Galena helps the only surviving healer from the fight to his feet- Micha. “Thank you, hermits. You...none of us would be around if it wasn’t for you all.” 

“Do you think the invasion is over? Is Danes safe?” Doc questions, stumbling back into his form. Blinking his eyes, rolling his broken robotic arm. 

Galena nods. “That was them all. You did more than I could’ve ever hoped for.” Galena looks around, at the shattered remains of her guild. Her home destroyed, her members gone. “My best decision ever was to reach out for you.” 

“I’m sorry, I wish we could do more.” Grian whispers, holding his arm into place. He may have dislocated it. 

“The Asklepions may be in ruins, but we are much harder to destroy than you think. We will rise from the ashes, like a phoenix.” Galena whispers. “This is not the first time I have seen a guild rise and fall around me. Even among the Council guilds.” 

Xisuma perks up, curious. “You were in a council guild?” 

Even Micha looks surprised. Galena nods him away, off to check on the wounded back in the guild hall. “Long, long ago. Yes, I was a member of a Council Guild. That was before things changed, when Lairyon was a different place.” Galena turns away. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I can offer you money for your hard work. But...what about something a little more valuable?” 

“What do you know, guildmaster Galena?” Xisuma, ever hungry for more knowledge, is practically on his knees to hear more. 

“Dark magic like this needs a mage to control it. And that mage needs somewhere to hide their work. Where better to hide forbidden magic than under the very noses of the leaders who forbid them?” Galena shakes her head, running withered fingers along the crystal in her staff. She glances back at the hermits, a youthful glimmer in her eyes. “When I was younger, there were always rumors of dungeons beneath the capitol. I never found anything, but you all are quite clever- when you put your heads together.”

[joshslater]

Getting Laid

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The reception was empty, but the spicy Thai chicken really needed to go. If they wanted some coins on the way out I was more than happy to give them that. It’s weird how your needs become more urgent the closer to a toilet you are. I’ve walked past this huge gym, housed in a hangar looking building just next to the industrial area many times, but never been inside. I’m not much of a gym-goer, but with their locker rooms and showers they ought to have several stalls available for some much needed relief. With no one in the reception I hastily walked towards what I assumed to be the men’s locker room door, and once inside the empty room, quickly found what looked like the restroom door.

The restroom was over designed with black tiles, red stalls and dim lighting. A couple of people were gathered in front of the mirror, chatting and posing. Although having no interest in sports or things like that, I did recognize the fittest of them that stood in center of their attention. He’s some sort of model or something that keeps popping up on different social media. David Lake or Lain or something. I tried to be modest and looked at his head instead of his insanely fit, exposed flesh.

“Hey, are you part of the sponsor delegation?” asked one of the guys. The combination of trespassing, being bad food flush, my ass about to explode, and seeing this David guy out of context made my mind just go blank. What should I answer? What was the question?

“That’s a nice hat.” I blurted out as a result of my brain mashing together the impulse of being polite with what was just in front of me. I immediately felt like an idiot.

“Really? Here, take it.” the David dude responded, took off his hat and put it on my head.

“Eh, thanks. I really have to...” I gestured towards one of the stalls, feeling both embarrassed of having been mistaken for a fan and dread of literally shitting my pants in front of him.

“Yeah, of course. See you out there for the presentation” and they left, while I hurried into the stall.

The proximity rule was still in effect, so once in the stall I barely touched the seat before liquid erupted with force. I could feel the chili too. The Japanese flag, one of my co-worker called it. The torrent draining my bowels didn’t last very long. While my stomach felt kind of OK, I was still feeling sweaty, perhaps feverish. One flush and the bowl was clean. I washed my hands, and then carefully left the building unseen the same path as I entered.

I was feeling bad all the way home, like I had come down with the flu. Everything was a cognitive blur, where I could grasp anything I focused on, but nothing came automatically. I was just following the normal route, did the normal motions, opened the door, removed the shoes and the crashed straight into bed for a nap. I would hope for a few hours, then perhaps something light to eat, sleep properly, and fingers crossed, tomorrow I would be back on my feet as if nothing had happened.

I was annoyed waking up by the sun shining in my face. Apparently I did not wake up to have dinner, undress, pull the curtains, or anything. My clothes didn’t sit well and my mouth was dry. I did feel great though, so no Thai chicken hangover. But as soon as I started to move I realized something else was wrong. My body was a completely different shape, longer and thinner and different. My trousers and shirt both fit loser, but were hilariously short for my new frame.

I rushed over to my wall mirror and my jaw almost dropped on the floor. It was recognizably me, though barely, given how much weight I’d lost. On second thought, with my new height I was probably the same weight as before. That would make physical sense at least, not that anything else did. I ripped off my ill fitting clothes and looked at myself naked, except for the hat.

The hat! Was that the reason this had happened to me? Would I turn back into a pumpkin if I removed it? I took a long look at my body, as I had never dared dream it would look like. Lithe, with a faint muscle definition. I ran my hands over the smooth skin, and it felt amazing. Warmer and tighter than before. I reached up and yanked the hat off my head. Nothing changed. I could feel the faint smell of sweat and cologne. Someone else’s sweat and cologne.

I was immediately relieved that the body didn’t revert. What was I thinking, removing the hat like that? If it did change back I would want to try out so many different things before letting go. But I was also feeling anxious about what would happen next. No clothes I own would fit, so I would have to call someone with an unusual, bordering awkward request. Would the body stay the same, or change again tomorrow? Change how?

I decided it was best to call in sick, and spend the day trying out the body, and see how it looks tomorrow. I think I’ll wait with new clothes until then, and keep the hat on to see if it has anything more to give.

[scribbling-stiks]

Heart Strings - VIII - The Trains are Getting Very Suspicious

When America wakes up the next morning, Alaska is jumping over him, begging him to wake up.

"Good mornin' kiddo. What's up?" America asks, groggy.

"Grandpa isn't awake yet, but I wanted to play a game," Alaska says with a bright grin.

"Okay. Hold on, okay?" America says, waving her off.

Alaska beams before turning around and disappearing out the door. America sits up and rubs his face. He turns over and sees Russia stretching.

"Hey," America says, "sorry if she woke you up."

"It's okay," Russia replies, rubbing his eyes.

'Oh my god, your hair is so fluffy.'

America holds back the impulse to reach over and just mess with it.

"Can I use your bathroom?" America stammers out looking away with color in his cheeks.

"What? Oh... yes. Go ahead," Russia replies, waving him out, "there are extra towels in the closet beside it."

America nods nervously before getting up. He grabs a change of clothes and disappears into the bathroom to clean himself up.

'I hope Alaska can stay out of trouble for just a few minutes.'

America begins to fret about his own clothing choices when he starts trying to fix his, now wet, hair.

'I don't want to look like an idiot!'

'Russia is so much better than this.'

After a few tries, and a little styling gel, he gets it to stand up the way he likes it and he smiles.

'At least I still know how to do it.'

'If only my clothes could've matched a little more.'

'Oh well, too late now.'

There is a knock on the door and he unlocks it, still brushing his teeth. Alaska kicks open the door, and America jumps.

"It's breakfast time, and I want to shower," Alaska announces bluntly.

America spits out the foamy mess into the sink and laughs.

"No time for nonsense then, huh?" America asks, rinsing out his mouth and running the sink again to drain everything.

"Nope!" Alaska replies, pushing America out, "no time. Now gooooooo. Russia's waiting for you!"

"Wait. What are you-"

Alaska closes the door.

America sighs in bemusement.

'Am I really that obvious?'

America walks out to see Russia very tiredly eating something out of a small bowl. He smiles awkwardly. Russia doesn't look up at first.

"What is that?" America asks.

Russia's head jerks up and he glances at America before looking away. America can pinpoint Russia's embarrassment and shock as it comes through the link, and he laughs a little.

'I wonder what it is.'

'This emotions thing is getting a little easier.'

'It's probably because of practice.'

"It's kasha," Russia finally answers, sounding a little flustered, "do you want some?"

"Please," America replies with a nod.

Russia hops up, dropping an unaccompanied small bowl into the sink as he reenters the kitchen. He hands America the bowl, and their fingers brush. America jerks a little at the sparks that he feels in his fingers. Russia retakes his seat, and America eats while the house starts to come to life with activity.

"Do you want to come with me to set up the meeting room?" Russia asks, pointing at America with his spoon.

"Yeah, sure," America says before he could consider the opposite.

Then he curses himself.

'Why did I agree to that?!'

'It's better than being stuck here with Soviet,' America thinks with a shiver.

'I'm gonna make a fool of myself.'

'D*** it all!'

"I bought 4 tickets anyway," Russia continues, " and I don't think Ukraine or Belarus would mind much if you come instead."

"Are you joking? I never wanted to go!" Ukraine says, taking a seat at the table.

Russia chuckles.

Eventually, Alaska emerges and asks America to do her hair. America complies, swiftly pulling it up into ponytails. Alaska giggles in excitement.

"Would you like to come with Russia and me to set up for tomorrow's meeting?"

"Uh, YEAH!" Alaska says, "Why did you even ask?!"

America laughs. Russia disappears soon after to get washed up and dressed, and America bids his time until he's stuck in closed quarters with Russia again.

The walk to the train station is cold,  but not dramatically so. America had come prepared, after all.

'Though I do wish I brought some thicker socks.'

Russia hands the tickets over and the walk on. The train car looks deserted. They sit together in the carriage, and Russia locks the door.

'Great. Now I'm stuck here.'

Alaska bounces on his bunk and pointing out the window.

"Look, Daddy! Look!"

America turns to see her point as some of the landscaping they pass.

"Mh-hm. I see," America says, peaking over Alaska's shoulder.

Eventually, the scenery loses his attention and his eyes lock on Russia's face. Russia is staring out the window, his head in his hand, leaning against the window sill. America admires Russia's face with a love-struck stare. His mind begins to wander.

'So pretty.'

'I want a hat.'

'Wanna hug him.'

'Snow is stupid.'

'Russia is so handsome.'

'Is very kind.'

'Kinda wanna kiss him.'

America's cheeks grow hot, but can't take his eyes away.

'I shouldn't be thinking about that.'

Russia looks up and meets America's eyes. America looks away, embarrassed. He feels Russia's amusement and crinkles his nose.

"Don't laugh at me," America mumbles, staring determinately out the window.

Russia chuckles, and America can feel his glee leaking through.

Then, he feels someone kick his foot. He looks down and sees Russia kicking at him with a smirk, and if America focuses, he can feel the playful attitude from Russia. America's scowl turns to a grin when he kicks back.

America presses his back on the wall and kicks his feet against Russia's. Russia laughs and returns the favor. America kicks playfully, and can't help the giddy laughter that rises from the back of his throat.

America playfully hits at Russia and tries to straighten his legs, and Russia fights to do the same. America grins wide enough to make his cheeks ache and he giggles.

Russia ultimately wins their little competition, and America pouts, crossing his arms.

Then, the motion from the hallway outside the carriage catches America's attention. His expression drops and his head whips around to stare out the small window built into the door.

He doesn't see anyone.

"What's wrong?" Russia asks, concern in his tone.

"I thought I saw something, but I also thought no one else was in our train car."

"I didn't see anyone else get on," Russia comments, curiously looking out the window on the door.

America hums and stares out the window, waiting for the flash of red to return. Nothing ever does. He nervously starts analyzing his surroundings but doesn't see anything out of the ordinary. Even still, dread gnaws at him.

The train ride is long, and America finds himself spacing out a little.

'I wonder if Russia likes me back.'

'No, he probably doesn't.'

'Even if he did, I can't....'

'Stupid soulmates..'

America crosses his arms. Russia gives him a concerned look, but America ignores it.

'I saw something outside though.'

'It could've been nothing.'

'I have a bad feeling about it.'

The rest of the train ride is uneventful, but America isn't in the mood to continue joking around like he had before. He tries to shake off the dread buried in his stomach but finds it nearly impossible. He can feel Russia's worry but waves it off. He offers Russia a reassuring smile, and Russia returns it with one of his own. America looks away, trying not to get too worked up over it.

'He is so god d*** cute.'

The train rolls to a stop and America dawns his coat. He walks out, Russia on one side and Alaska on the other. America hangs back while Russia does the negotiating. Though he could understand every word, he doesn't say anything, afraid that he'll intrude

They arrive at the building around early afternoon, and America walks through the slushy snow to get to the entrance, holding Alaska to keep her out of the sludge.

America does get strange looks from the security personnel, and many gave Alaska accusing looks. America glares back, the message of 'don't f*** with my child,' clear in his eyes. Russia slows a little and walks close beside him, and America tries his best to ignore the warmth in his cheeks.

'Oh my god, you are so close to me.'

'He smells nice.'

'WHAT THE F*** BRAIN?!'

America scowls and feels even his ears start to turn red.

America puts Alaska down and takes her hand, and she stays close to his side, almost trying to hide behind his leg from the surrounding air.

America continues to look around and spots several guards eyeing them from around the building. Russia steps a little in front of him and glares at the guards, who turn away at seeing him. America's cheeks grow pink.

'Him defending me????'

Giddy feelings fill his stomach.

'No, I can't think about that now! I'll get all distracted.'

They walk into the meeting room and America takes a stack of paperwork to help sort it out. He moves and sits beside Russia. Russia gives him a curious look, and America stares down at the papers, pretending not to see Russia at all.

Russia takes a seat beside him, and America relaxes a little, happy Russia isn't going to fight him on the seating arrangement. Alaska sits on America's other side, swinging her feet under the table. America smiles.

"Hey, is this important?" America asks, handing a lone, almost blank sheet of paper to Russia to glance over.

"No," Russia answers, handing it back and turning his attention back to his own stack of papers to read and sign.

America nods and hands the sheet to Alaska, who folds it into an airplane. Alaska begins drawing people in windows and America smiles. Russia stands up.

"I'll be right back," Russia says, gathering a folder with several packets of paper, " I need to go give these to the building supervisor."

America nods and continues sorting papers into different stacks and Alaska starts throwing around her paper airplane.

Suddenly, America feels his hair stand on end. He looks up and a flash of red catches his eye outside one of the windows. He focuses on the spot, only to see nothing. Alaska retreats back to his side.

"Daddy? What's wrong?" Alaska asks, her voice nervous.

"It's okay, pumpkin. I'm just a little high strung is all."

Alaska hums, sounding unsure.

"It's okay kiddo," America says reassuringly.

"I'm seeing stuff too," Alaska mutters, "like people looking through the windows. Their flags are weird."

America tenses.

'S***.'

"Uhhh," America stammers, looking around and scanning the windows, "let's go find Russia, okay?"

America stands, abandoning the papers on the table and taking Alaska's hand, eyeing the door that Russia had left through.

"Okay Daddy," Alaska says, and her grip tightens.

~

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