#is extremely calm while getting her nails clipped

[sea-lanterns]

Vet! Reader clipping Jaguar! Xilonen’s nails and watching as this overdramatic cat wails because she believes she’s in pain 😭

[saving-ray-23]

BATGIRL (ELEVEN)

Coach Yeoh was a master of all trades, it seemed. Lacrosse coach by day, seamstress by night. She had heard from James that she was a small, tiny fan of Batman and went nuts. The next day, she was presented with a dark purple jacket make of leather, a bright yellow bat-symbol on the chest. It was badass to say the least, not to mention one-of-a-kind.

And when Barbara asked how she got it, all the Coach said was that she knew a guy. By Friday, the costume was complete and awesome. Coach Yeoh had found this cape that clipped onto the jacket shoulders and a utility belt dyed bright yellow filled with dollar tree smoke bombs, safety pins, and a couple fake batarangs from Toys-R-Us. Barbara cleaned a pair of black jeans and laced tightly the yellow boots she had gotten for Bess too long ago to remember. She never got a chance to give them to her, but with all the effort Coach Yeoh was putting into the costume, she couldn't find a good excuse to not wear them. Last was a dark coat of greasepaint in a stripe across her face and with her hair braided back and most of her face hidden under the hood of the jacket, she was a female Batman.

It was extremely dorky, but that night, she just felt . . . cool.

James and his girlfriend were going as police officers— most likely a slight towards the Commissioner, but Babs tried not to overthink it. It was a party— something fancier than the annual Policeman's ball but hopefully not as awkward as a Gotham Academy Formal.

When they got there, it was a mess. Mostly adults, already taking advantage of the open bar and lack of more than three kids. She mentally sighed, watching her cousin's girlfriend practically dive into the crowd.

"You know," James said, leaning closer. "I heard Bruce Wayne's here tonight."

Babs tensed, nails digging into her palms as she forced herself to stay calm. "He's probably enjoying the chaos."

Just because his dad was there, Dick didn't necessarily have to be. She remembers him once saying he hated to stuffy balls and galas. Said it was all old ladies pinching his cheeks and saying how much he'd grown.

The costume ball seemed nothing like the boring events he'd described.

Squeezing her shoulder once, James disappeared into the crowd with an easy grin, as though he hadn't just dropped a bomb on Barbara.

She gravitated towards the nearest table, slumping in the seat. The lights were dimmed and the music was loud— something felt weird about the situation. Lex Luthor was nowhere to be seen, though she doubted he attended most of his parties. The bald-headed Superman-hater gave off more of a Gatsby vibe; throwing the party to show off all his riches without actually being apart of the party.

She looked around the scene, eyes searching for Lois Lane. Only Lois Lane. She wouldn't look for Dick buttface the third because he was a jerk who—

Who was kissing Jenny Addams?

Barbara felt— she felt—

She didn't know how she felt. Dick— she'd been mad at him for so long because he pretended to be her friend, just like everyone else. Because he wouldn't leave her alone— because he kept spamming her with bullshit apologies.

Because she thought he was better than that.

And she had felt bad for a while, too. She didn't like making people feel bad, even jerks who totally deserved it. It just made her feel bad and them feel bad and most of the time it wasn't worth it.

But clearly Dick didn't feel bad. Not at all. He was just perfect. Probably breathless because he hadn't come up for air in—

Standing, Barbara stormed out the doors.

__

It took Barbara nearly an hour to get back to Somerset. She had texted James after a while, letting him know she wasn't feeling well and left early. It wasn't really a lie. Seeing Dick suck face made her want to hurl.

Six subway stops later, she was following her phone's GPS back towards her house, wanting the quickest way back. All she wanted was to curl up in a ball and sleep for the next week.

"Stop— stop it!"

Babara's head whipped up from her phone, eyes straining to see in the darkness of Gotham. The costume's cape billowed around her in the wind, purple glinting in the moonlight. A flash of silver caught her eyes and then she made out two figures in the alleyway.

A smart person would turn and walk away. She was tired and just a kid, no real experience fighting off the mats. 

But, the woman was screaming for help and Babs had some anger she needed to expel.

Launching forward, she tackled the guy to the ground, fist colliding with his jaw. The leather gloves she wore did little to soften the blow, but the large figure still flipped her off of him, both rolling to stand. She fell into ready position easily, fists high and feet spread. This was just like the spars in the dojo— except, the guy was a lot bigger than the teenagers she usually fought with and he had a knife Babs had only just noticed.

Using one hand to hold the knife away from her, she rammed her hand hard against his forearm, his fingers losing their grip and the blade falling to the ground. Punching him square in the jaw, Barbara watched in shock as he crumpled to the ground unconscious. Blinking, she reached for the thin rope hanging from her fake utility belt, tying his wrists tightly.

Standing, Babs turned towards the crying lady, surprised she hadn't run off. Her bracelet was broken on the ground, but other than that, she seemed . . . fine. A little hysterical, but fine.

"What— who— " The woman gasped, looking her up and down.

Barbara felt good— the summertime high she'd been on seemed like nothing compared to the adrenaline rushing through her. She opened her mouth to respond, about to answer the woman when her phone went off.

COMMISH

The Commissioner was texting, asking where she was. She never told him she was going to the party— figured she'd be back before he even got home. But now— now, she had knuckles that were surely going to bruise and a woman was crying in front of her. If she told him what happened, he'd never let her leave the house. When she was a kid, he was always preaching to her how dangerous it was to be a vigilante— to run from danger, not towards it. Granted, her stopped caring so much about what Barbara did in the past few years, but still. Barbara Gordon stopping a robbery wouldn't stay secret long.

Good thing she wasn't dressed like Barbara Gordon at the moment. The purple grease paint around her eyes suddenly felt like a really good idea.

"Who are you?" The woman breathed more evenly now, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

"I'm just, uh . . . a friend?" She winced internally, feeling like she'd just quoted the worst action movie of the decade.

The sound of sirens rang out in the distance, maybe five blocks away. She winced— the costume might've fooled the scared woman, but she doubted the cops wouldn't recognize her.

"I, uh, I've gotta go." She explained badly, double-checking that the thin nylon once apart of her costume was holding the crook in place. "Sorry about your necklace!"

She ran down the alleyway, ducking around a corner and down the street. She was close enough to her house to make it before the cops could even get a statement from the woman. Babs had gotten away.

Gotten away. God, she sounded like a criminal.

Criminal.

She'd just stopped a crime! Saved some woman! She was a savior!

It felt pretty great.

[prettytoxicrevolver]

Acrylics | Headcanon

Requested? Nope

Warnings? None

CC's Included? Corpse Husband, Dream, Awesamdude, Wilbur Soot, Sapnap, BoomerNA, Punz, Quackity, Karl Jacobs

Word Count: 1,730

My first ever set of headcanons! Pls feel free to tell me if they suck or if you want more!! My requests are always open :)

Corpse

-you’ve had earrings for years now and didn’t think acrylics would mess you up

-you were definitely wrong

-you suddenly became notorious for dropping earring backs, losing them in the carpet, and fumbling around for minutes at a time

-corpse had noticed you had started to take longer and longer getting ready

-he knew you loved changing your earrings, matching them to your outfit, and making a whole outfit out of it

-and yet one morning you two were actually headed out to get breakfast together

-when you were taking a while he decides to check on you and see if you’re okay

-he walks into the room, watching you pout in frustration as you tried again to put in your earrings

-he can’t help the small smile on his lips that occurs, watching as you tried over and over to put the jewelry in your ear

-he walks over, placing his hands on your shoulders until they fall down over your hands

-“let me help”

-he takes the earrings out of your hands, nudging you to turn in his grip

-he brushes your hair back before focusing intently on putting the earring in

-he’s scared about hurting you but you’re too busy focusing on the butterflies in your stomach to even notice

-he fastens the earrings with ease and without a second thought he presses a kiss to your forehead before telling you to turn and look in the mirror and see if it’s okay

-you’re practically glowing and that alone make corpse smile

-from now on he puts your earrings in for you

Dream

-the minute you got your nails done you realized what a struggle opening cans was going to be

-you loved Redbull and soda and pretty much anything that came into a can so you were definitely struggling

-dream watches as you leverage the can tab with a knife and pop it open that way, an adoring smile on his lips

-he watches you do this for a while, finding the action absolutely adorable for whatever reason

-one day you head to the fridge and grab a can of Redbull and Dream takes it out of your hands instantly

-he pops it open without a word and hands it back, pressing a kiss to the side of your head as he walks away

-you stand in the cold air of the fridge for minutes afterward, struck at how such a perfect boy could notice something so minute about you

-he always opens cans for you now

Sam

-having a difficult time typing never even occurred to you when you got your nails done

-you figured you’d either find a way around it or use text to speech if it got really difficult

-and it did get really difficult

-you had a 10-page essay due and the idea of ripping your extremely expensive nails off had crossed your mind more than once

-when you’re on your third page and can’t type one word without a mistake you let out a muted scream before dropping your head onto the desk

-Sam who had been sitting in the room the whole time offers a concerned look

-he makes his way over to you, rubbing your back slowly

-“what’s wrong baby?”

-“these stupid nails keep messing me up,” you whine leaning your head into his chest

-he picks your hand up, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand before nudging you out of the seat

-“what are you writing about?” he asks as you plop down onto the floor

-“what?”

-“what are you writing about? I can type it,”

-you swore you were about to get down on one knee and propose to him

-“uhm it’s about the similarities and differences of an older text and a newer text and why it’s fundamental to use both”

-“alright. tell me what I need to write next”

-you spent the next few hours telling Sam your plans and thoughts about the paper while he typed, your heart slamming appreciatively in your chest

Wilbur

-you had done pretty well with your hair after getting your nails done

-brushing it out, pulling it up, even twirling it around your fingers caused no issue and all ease

-however, when you see a TikTok tutorial of a girl pulling her hair up with butterfly clips this is when the trouble starts

-you sat in front of your bedroom mirror, twisting your hair and attempting to clip it in place, and proceeding to drop the clip over and over and over

-the frustration is unreal, and at one point you almost start crying in annoyance

-Wilbur walks into the room clueless and stops in his tracks immediately

-he kneels on the ground behind you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders

-you lean back into his touch and let it calm you as you drop the clips from your hands

-”what’s wrong my love?” he whispers calmly while pressing kisses to your head

-”I can’t get my hair right,” an unintentional whine coming out of your lips

-Wilbur reaches down to where the clips lay on the ground and gather them up

-”what do you want me to do?”

-you’re practically crying for a whole other reason now

-”i’m just trying to twist my hair up and pin it back” you explain

-wilbur watches you pull the hair back before opening the clip and securing it into place

-he smoothes down the hair as if he’s done it a million times and presses kisses to your head

-he’s the first person you call now when you need help with your hair

Sapnap

-okay you’ve never been great at opening sauce packets before

-but now that you got your nails done it’s downright impossible

-the first time you tried you swore it took you 30 minutes to even get it a little bit open

-so when you and Sap go to Chick fil A and sit down to eat you’re already groaning in annoyance as you pull out the chick fil a sauce packet

-Sap watches with amused eyes and a slight smirk as you struggle even getting the plastic between your fingers

-he grabs it from your hands without a word, tearing it open before placing it back in front of you

-every single time you go to a fast food place now he does it subconsciously whether you have acrylics on or not

-your heart aches a little every time he does it, nothing but love for the sweet boy before you

Boomer

-alright so you’ve never been a huge gamer in life

-sure you played the occasional game when you were younger or when your older brother needed help beating a level but that was about it

-when you met Boomer you realized how little you knew about video games, specifically minecraft

-while you never played the game you listened to Boomer tell you all about it and explain

-however when he started playing Halo in his free time that’s when you became interested

-your dad used to play the game 24/7 when you were younger, beating it a multitude of times on the old PC in the computer room

-and when he saw your interest piqued, he knew he had to teach you how to play valorant

-similar shooting games, right?

-you sat on his lap, his hands on top of yours as you try to work around having the longest fingernails ever and learn a new game

-you swear instead of you actually playing Boomer was doing all of the work

-it made your heart happy anyway

-you joked with him that when the fingernails come off you’ll beat his ass in valorant

-”Whatever you say my love” he assures pressing a kiss to your shoulder

Punz

-okay but opening jars normally is hard

-how the fuck were you supposed to open them with long ass fingernails on??

-you did probably the most ridiculous tips and tricks from TikTok to try and loosen the top of the jar

-nothing worked

-punz watched you amused day in and day out whenever you tried to open any jars

-some days he even let the jar loosen before hiding it back again and watching as you cheer excitedly, opening it on the first try

-one day you’re having a particularly hard time opening a jar, going as far as cursing in frustration over the opening

-punz walks over to you, pulling the jar from your hand and popping it open with ease you watch admirably

-you lean up and press a kiss to his cheek and he flushes underneath your touch

-now every time you have a jar you can’t open you’re right by Punz’s side pouting and holding out the food

Quackity

-obviously, Alex has always opened doors for you

-he’s even gone as far as smacking your hand away when you try to open a door for yourself

-and when you get your nails done? Forget about it

-he barely lets you lift a finger, not wanting for you to ruin your brand new manicure

-he’s seen you pull off quite a few nails by missing the door handle and hitting it a bit too hard

-there’s no way he’s gonna make you lose more

-”i’m going to work!” you yell out to Alex as you walk out the door

-he rushes in behind you unexpectedly and out towards your car

-he already has the door opened and is offering a big grin

-you lean up and press a kiss to his lips, your heart surging at the idea that you had gotten the best boyfriend in the world

Karl Jacobs

-kinda like typing, you never thought you’d have an issue writing stuff down with your nails on

-however, this time around you got your nails a little longer than usual and it was a struggle

-as you’re scribbling down a grocery list you mess up practically every other word in sloppy writing

-Karl tilts his head when he tries reading the list and smiles

-”baby let me write the list,” he whines the next time you go shopping

-you tell him everything you need and Karl writes it down in perfect hand writing, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he gets up

-you’ll never not be shocked when he does something so simple but precious

[prettypinkpuddles]

cat y/n

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: 𝔸𝕞𝕒𝕛𝕚𝕜𝕚 𝕏 𝕐/ℕ

ℝ𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘: ℕ𝕊𝔽𝕎 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥

𝕋𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘: ℕ𝕠𝕟𝕖

♡��♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

Your Quirk is Kitten. You have a tail and ears, your nails are sharp and you do a lot of cat things. You're extremely flexible and agile, but you need a lot of energy to do so and you're on the lazy side of cats.

You peeled into 1-A and waved to the students.

  "Hi guys!" You beamed and the class waved back. "Hi Mr. Aizawa!"

He waved back and you quickly walked in, handed him a stack of papers and he patted your head.

  "What's that?" Kaminari asked.

You flipped your head back to face him. "There's tests. Forty questions on each page! Good luck~!"

The class whines and Aizawa smiled and told you not to do that.

"Ok ok! They aren't tests... but I can't tell you!" You said, waving your hands around. The class calmed down and sighs filled the room.

  "Bye nowww!" You skipped out the classroom and shut the door, right on your tail.

   "Damnit!" You frowned, opening the door and yanking your tail.

   "Hey.. N-no cursing..."

you looked to Amajiki and bent down, a grin on your face. "Make me.."

  "Y/N, you seem more excited!"

You nodded to Nejire. "I've noticed that too! I dunno why but I like being excited, keeps me happy."

She rubbed your head, making a point to scratch your ears. You grinned at her and she walked to her class. You sat back on the couch, mostly just looking at your claws and blooping a string of yarn around your fingers then your eyes darted to a little girl.

She was hiding behind a door, white wavy hair, big apple red eyes, a tiny smile on her face and a drawing in hand.

  "Eri!" You completely forgot about the string and jumped to Eri, pulling her in a big hug and holding her face.

   "Hai Y/N!" She giggled and gave you the drawing. "Look! I drew you and the big three!"  She pointed to Mirio, then Tamaki and finally you and Nejire.

   "You wanna hang it up?"

She nodded and you scooped her up, walked to the bulletin board and she grabbed a red push pin, held the drawing and stabbed it.

   "Nice job!" You cheered and tossed her in the air. She screamed and giggled, asking for you to do it again. You threw her again and she squealed, falling right back in your arms. She dropped down and ran back off, leaving you back with your yarn for a while.

  "Y/N?"

You looked to see Amajiki at the doorway, looking down at the ground and simply playing with his fingers.

  "Nya?" You we're still focused on the yarn and it tipped over and fell onto your face.

Amajiki chuckled and sat beside your head. "Are you okay?"

You sat up and paused from your daily play. "Why wouldn't I be?"

He paused. "Well... cats usually gets really excited over certain things so I was just curious... but if your okay then alright.."

He reached to rub the tips of your ears.

You pushed his hand away the second it touched you, feeling a different feeling; it was still nice but different. You recognized the feeling you'd get sometimes, it was that feeling you only got on certain days.

"Amajiki~!" You peeked in his dorm and saw him pulling a shirt over his head. He smiled and held out out his arms for you to wrap yourself in. You spun around and wrapped his arms around your chest, looking up at him with a grin.

  "My baby..." He kissed your forehead and you climbed onto the bed, it being a bit of a hassle since you didn't wanna crawl it by mistake.

   "Wrong! I'm not yours..." You giggled and grabbed a pair of nail clippers on the dresser, holding them to your own fingers and snipping them. You clipped four then ended up hurting yourself.

Amajiki took the clippers from you and then out his hand under yours, held the clippers over the nail and snipped. It cut off cleanly and he clipped the other hand for you.

  "Why's that so hard for you..?" He chuckled and leaned over to the dresser to set the nail clippers back. You bent down all the way to the bed and stretched as best you could.

   "I didn't need help...!" You groaned and felt a hand on your waist, making you jump.

   "Y-Y/N... I know why you keep acting like this.."

You looked anywhere else from Tamaki, scaring of what he might say; he could get it right, he's never been wrong at guessing what's the matter with you.

  "Heat~"

That word made you jump, he was right.

  "You always get bratty and playful when you have your heat.."

You shivered, feeling Amajiki's hands trail down to your jeans, hooking his thumb on the belt loop and pulled them down quickly.

  "I think we can fix t-that.."

  "Come o-out..."

you walked out from the bathroom with a bell collar around your neck, a pair of underwear and a vibrator shoved right up your sopping hole. Amajiki looked at you and gestured for you to sit on his lap, latching a leash on your collar. He tugged on it gently and you bent over on his lap, giving him access to your bottom half.

"My good Y/N.." He cooed and trailed his fingers over your entrance. They slowly dipped in you hole and slid right back out, pushing the toy deeper into you which made you cry out.

He kissed your cheek and neck, turning you to lay on the bed in one motion; he looked at you in the eyes, letting you see all the lust building up like a bubble getting ready to burst hidden behind his sweet loving eyes. You had no idea until you screamed out but he had undid his pants and shoved himself right into you.

He pounded into you at a vigorous pace, not letting up for a second; you moaned and gasped, digging your nails into his back. That only seemed to fuel his lust and want to fuck the brains out of you, his thrusts getting deeper.

"Butterfly... you're practically mewling f-for me..." He sighed at the feeling of you contracting around him, signaling you were cumming. Your legs shook and you instinctively bit down on the boy's neck, nails already scratching up his back. Tamaki thrusted one last time, shoving himself into you completely and stopping, his chest heaving and him being a sweaty mess.

"Feel better, Butterfly..?" He looked at your face, you being caught in your euphoric state, he kissed your forehead and pulled out, making you moan. You looked down at your dripping hole, Amajiki's semen in a pool and dripping out slowly; you flexed and tightened the muscles down there like you were pushing something out and the white liquid rose a bit and more dribbled out.

"That felt like three orgasms all at once..." You giggled and kissed Amajiki's forehead, pulling him down to the bed for cuddles.

Your arms delicately wrapped around him and he sighed contently, his breathing becoming more slowed and steady.

"I love you... so so much, Y/N."

You smiled and turned your head. "Me too... I love me too.."

You felt Tamaki pull at the leash again and you let out a laugh, apologizing.

[stxrrywildflower]

for better or for worse (2)

pairing - spencer reid x reader

summary - when the people they love the most are kidnapped and ripped out of their hands, the bau does everything they can to get them back before it turns dire

warnings - mentions of case, angst, injury details

series masterlist

drugs were coursing through your veins. you could tell that from the minute your eyes slowly opened.

instead of being met with bright lights or some random room, you were met with total darkness. the cloth veil over your head prevented you from seeing anything. a second cloth was secured around your face, acting as a gag to prevent you from calling out.

your head lolled slightly, due to both the drugs and actually having some form of control over your movements.

the cloth was violently ripped off, now exposing the environment you were in.

your eyes met andrew’s, who was sitting across from you. through still hazy eyes, you looked back and forth, desperate to try and figure out your surroundings.

penelope was to your right and leslie to your left. next to her was kristy, then andrew, krystall, and finally will.

the seven of you made up an almost perfect circle, one person facing another. you were tied of the same way, arms restrained behind the chair while your legs were tied to the base of the chair.

everyone was still fairly loopy, though penelope was sober enough to have tears already flowing down her cheeks.

“welcome everyone!” a voice called.

the three men, the same ones who delt with the fabric over your faces, stood in a triangle around the edge of your circle. each had on a full face masks preventing you from seeing their identities.

“what the hell do you want with us,” andrew spat out after managing to get the gag out of his mouth. everyone was more than fine with him taking charge, he was the fbi agent after all.

“you,” the one with the blue mask started, twirling a knife in hand, “are going to tear your other halves into pieces emotionally and i’m sure physically.”

he went on for another few minutes, the others chipping in occasionally. the whole thing was strategically planned out, unless the team found you, you wouldn’t be getting out anytime soon.

you were the first one to receive any form of an injury.

your occasional snarky and sarcastic personality trait was coming in force. as the three men entered the room, only to taunt the group, you couldn’t help but call them out.

“imagine thinking your going to get something good out of kidnapping all of us,” you started. “you guys are a bunch of morons who’s heads are pretty much wanted on platters by the team and i’m-” you were cut off by a hard punch to your cheek.

a gasp espacped your lips, pain radiating in both your eye and nose. a thin steam of blood trickled down your face. between the drugs hitting you even harder with the final effects on your body and now this, you were extremely exhausted.

they left the room soon after that, no clues or hints on where they were going.

“you okay?” will’s thick accent took a second to process in your head.

“fine,” you grumbled, moving your head to the side to wipe the blood from your nose on your shirt. “the teams going to get us out of this,” kristy spoke, as if to reassure herself. “i know they will.”

back at quantico, the team all sat around the table, still looking down at the phones. “i really hate to say it, but there’s little we can do until the kidnappers make contact.”

“are you joking?” spencer exclaimed, “do you really expect us to just sit here and wait while everyone is probably being tortured by the bastards who took them?”

they hated to admit, he did have a point.

j.j. led luke out of the room, keeping one hand on his back to comfort the agent who was moments away from breaking down crying.

“spencer, a word?”

the genius grumbled to himself quietly, pushing his chair back before following emily out of the conference room and into her office. “i need you to calm down,” she spoke gently.

that was easily one of the worst things she could have said to spencer.

“no i’m not going to calm down prentiss,” spencer snapped. “i lost maeve to an unsub the same way. how dare you tell me to ‘calm down’ when y/n is missing and we have absolutely no idea where her or the others went.”

emily frowned slightly at the mention of the event from almost eight years ago. while the current unit chief wasn’t on the case, she had heard about it while in london and did everything she could from where she was to help out spencer.

“i want you to take a walk. we need your head clear and ready to work,” emily spoke gently. spencer opened his mouth, wanting to protest but shut it quickly. he wanted to do as emily said, for your sake at least.

spencer shook his head, leaving the office after grabbing his bag and heading towards the elevator. maybe some fresh air would do him some good.

“why not me,” luke mumbled, barely audible to the blonde agent.

j.j. had taken luke to morgan’s old office to help him calm down. her motherly instincts had kicked in, especially as she knew how emotional luke could get in situations like these, stress adding on as it involved penelope.

“why did they take penelope instead of me? i’m apart of this team too,” tears started to flow down luke’s cheeks. j.j. pressed her lips together, wanting to stay strong enough for both his and her sake. her mind creeped back to will, desperately hoping he was okay.

“i don’t know luke, i really don’t. but trust me when i say, we will find them,” she reassured, wrapping an arm around the fellow agent. “thanks j, do you mind giving me a minute alone?”

j.j. nodded, squeezing his shoulder one more time before standing up just as her phone rang.

“my mom is coming down to get the boys. matt, she can take a few of yours,” j.j. announced once she met up with matt and rossi. they needed the kids handled so full focus could be on solving the case.

“joy is also flying in, she was on her way even before this whole thing. she can watch keely and the others” rossi chipped in. emily joined the group just in time to hear rossi’s offer.

matt nodded, the three parents in mutual agreement. “i’m going to meet up with tara and get started on some work. i mean what else can we do.”

“how’s spencer?”

“frustrated,” emily answered. “i’m honestly suprised no one else is on his level.”

j.j. sighed. “emily i don’t know what we’re going to do,” she admitted. “agents aren’t supposed to work cases when they’re personally involved. and with this, i mean we all are. what are we even supposed to do?”

“we really need reinforcements.”

——

“have you heard?”

“yeah i’m about to head over now. you?”

“same. are we really bringing our badges out of retirement?”

“hey don’t say retirement. makes us sound old.”

“true.”

“and yes we’re heading back. they’re family, and they need our help.”

with that, the phone call ceased.

the bullpen seemingly stopped, all eyes going over to the glass doors. none other than aaron hotchner and derek morgan stepped in, bags by their side and visitors badge clipped to their pants.

their styles altered greatly. hotch was dressed down in jeans and a patagonia quarter buttoned pullover, work boots as his shoe of choice. morgan was the same, opting for a t-shirt and zip up instead.

agents nodded as a sign of respect at the two former agents, their legacy with the bau team was still looked up to.

the current bau team seemed empty.

no one jumped up to greet them. no one hugged. no one could even muster up a convincing enough smile.

they all just looked down, going back to their individual work. spencer and luke were at the genius’s desk, chairs pressed close together as they put together information. rossi, j.j., and tara were in the conference room, boards put up with pictures of the phones as well as screenshots from street cameras. that left matt and emily who were engaged in a deep conversation.

emily stopped when she noticed the two men lingering. “go help spencer and luke. let them know to meet up with the other three when they’re done,” she ordered.

“thank you for coming, i wish we could meet under different circumstances,” she spoke, expending her hand out for them to shake. “we can talk in my office.”

the two former agents followed the current unit chief up, not bothering to sit in the chairs, preferring to stand. “bet you didn’t expect to be back in here,” morgan nudged hotch.

“is the team holding up okay? everyone seemed a little numb,” derek commented.

“how’s the investigation going? what do you have nailed down so far?” hotch quickly added.

“nothing, we have absolutely nothing. just broken cell phones and the word ‘love.’ we don’t have a tech analyst so we can’t even figure out half of the stuff we need to. no one can even focus right because we’ve had the people we love taken away with no means of communication or no clues. i think it’s understandable that we’re a little numb. and i just don’t know what to do because i’m dealing with myself and keely and also having to be a leader of the team,” emily stopped herself, running her hand through her hair to calm down.

her rant was pretty all over the place, mirroring the emotions she was feeling.

“which is why we’re here,” hotch stated. “morgan and i have the most clear heads out of everyone. if you say the word, we can lead this investigation and track down the unsubs. it would be the easiest way to make sure we get everyone back.”

emily nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. “okay. just please help us find them,” she pleaded. “we will, i promise.”

it was almost five hours before the mixed team found anything. a postal service worker stepped into the bullpen, holding a box and ipad in the other. anderson talked to him for a moment, motioning for emily to come down.

“i have a package for emily prentiss. you just need to sign here,” he repeated. emily was still hesitant, but leaned forward to write her signature.

emily held the box out in front of her, careful to keep her movements still as one wrong movement could set it off if it was in fact dangerous. she brought it up to the conference room, placing it on the table.

“it’s not an explosive,” derek determined after his examination. silence fell over the room.

tara was the one who leaned forward to open the box. her hands were shaky, directly due to her nervousness. no one knew what was inside, other than that it wasn’t a bomb.

all eyes were on the box, listing as the tape was cut open, them the cardboard flaps lifted.

bloody jewelry was inside; three wedding rings, two necklaces, a bracelet, and finally a helix earring.

spencer took a sharp breath. each piece of jewelry belonged to an individual taken. yours was the earring, an anniversary gift from him. the usual gold piece was now stained red.

the hope the team had for you all being alive cracked just a little bit more.

☆ ☆ ☆

tags - @zozoleesi @emxlyprentxss @spencerreidfanatic00 @mrs-dr-reid @irjuejjsaa @ogmilkis @sageellesworth05 @mortallythoughtfulgurl @brainyreid @ah-blossom @kissessforharryyy @ssareidbby @spencersglasses @spenciepoo338 @mggstyles @emilouu @loki-an-idiot @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @pianofirepirate @ssa-morgan @afuckingshituniverse @spencerslatte @reminiscing-writer

[bungou-stray-dingus]

Hello, I'm back! 💕 May I please ask for a serving of soft!dom Ranpo with a smol, shy female s/o scenario please~ and if you don't mind, maybe add a dash of daddy kink? (But if you're not comfortable with that, it's okayyy) THANK YOU ♥️

a/n : OOOOH a little bit of spicy snack boy >.^ SAY NO MORE! ALL MY LATE NIGHT INDULGENCES HAVE PREPARED ME FOR THIS MOMENT! GOsh I hope this is good because I am SWEATING writing this. But Ranpo is a whole snack.

T/W : Slight NSFW, A little Dash of Daddy Kink, Soft!Dom BB BOI, Fluff;

Ranpo

This boy loved how sweet and innocent you were, you were as sweet as the candy that he binge eats. But it wasn't just your sweetness or your innocence, you were also on the shorter side. Honestly, according to him, you were the dictionary definition of the perfect little cinnamon bun, which is what he called you often. Not only were you innocent and sweet, but you were also shy, which he was perfectly okay with. He didn't like talking much, so the two of you found a way to talk with your eyes and different facial expressions. Ranpo had brought you up to the Agency members once, and they (Dazai mainly) had begged him to bring you in, they wanted to meet you, the girl who had managed her way into Ranpo's secluded, snack filled life.

When he had first brought you to the Agency to meet everyone it was a big deal for him and you, he could tell how nervous you were about meeting his coworkers who had in a sense become family to him, but he had reassured you that they would all love you. "Not as much as I love you obviously, but how could they not love you? You're amazing Y/N." His hand way on your thigh, he was always touching you in some way, especially out in public. You were clearly the most beautiful girl in Yokohama, and he wanted everyone to know that you were his and his only. If anyone even looked in your direction he would squeeze your thigh, or his hand would trail down to your ass and give it a light squeeze causing a small squeal to escape your lips, your face dropping as you tried to hide from the strangers gazing eyes.

The train ride was short, when you got off the train Ranpo kept his hand on your lower back, hovering just above where your back curved to your butt. If needed, he could swiftly move his hand down, reaching under your skirt to pinch one cheek, letting any man who's eyes lingered a little longer than necessary know that you were taken by him. He brought you into the Agency building, watching your facial expressions as you took in the coffee shop on the lower level, breathing in through your nose, letting the smell of coffee fill your nostrils. You closed your eyes, sighing and smiling to him. "Adorable. I could kiss you." He said, you hadn't noticed how close he had gotten until you felt his breath, hot against the lope of your ear. His teeth grazed against the sensitive skin and your body shuddered. "R-Ranpo... there's people..." You were highly aware of the man behind the counter watching the exchange between the two of you.

"I don't mind. You're mine, aren't you?" His words were not much more than a whisper, his lips were moving lower down to your neck. His hands were on the same downward course, inching teasingly slow down your backside. Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his nails dig into your upper thighs, right below the hem of your skirt. "Of course I'm yours... B-but... they're waiting upstairs." You tried to get his mind back on track. It wouldn't be unlike him to try to take you right there in one of the booths. It's not that he was actually into doing things in public, but he had a one track mind, and when he suddenly felt the urge, he acted on it no matter where you two were. He had riled you up many times, leaving you a flustered frustrated mess until you got back to the privacy of your own home.

He sighed, pulling away slightly as your words brought him back to the moment at hand. "We stay for twenty minutes. I need to get you home to deal with what you've caused." He murmured, his voice low and sultry. You felt the heat pooling between your thighs, but you had to keep a straight face when you met his coworkers, you had to make a good impression. Your teeth tugged at your bottom lip as you tried to contain yourself, rubbing your thighs together, literally trying anything to get a grip on yourself. It felt like your knees were shaking, and Ranpo noticed immediately. "Mmm, my little princess, you're not as innocent as you want people to believe. Be patient for Daddy, won't you?"

He led you over to the elevator, and the sexual tension between the two of you felt like a thick fog. You didn't know how long the two of you could hold off. He was practically undressing you with his eyes already, and it didn't matter how loose his pants were, you could see the slight bulge growing between his legs. As soon as the elevator doors shut he had you cornered against the wall, his arms on both sides of your head. His lips crashed into yours, his knee pushing your legs apart before bringing his leg up to drag across your most sensitive area. You moaned into the kiss, bucking your hips against his leg, desperate for his touch. He pulled away, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he looked down and saw the small wet spot on his pants. "So needy, you're already so wet for Daddy. I might just make you wait a little longer, how about that?" You didn't have time to answer before the doors slid open and he grabbed your wrist to pull you out.

The office door opened and out stepped a beautiful woman, her hair was short and black, adorned with a butterfly clip on the side. Her eyes were a beautiful magenta, but you could tell by looking at her that she meant business. Her outfit seemed very business like, a knee length A-line skirt and a white button up with red heels. She looked you over, and you couldn't tell if it was a look of approval or disapproval, but it made you slightly nervous. "So this is her?" She asked, looking over to Ranpo, her eyes scanning over his face as she waited for his response. You didn't like the way she looked at him, the smug smile spreading on her lips as she stared at him a little longer than necessary. "This is her." Ranpo finally said, a hint of pride mixed in with his tone. The jealousy that had been slowly trying to creep it's way in had all but vanished when you heard him say those three simple words. He moved his hand down to intertwine his fingers with yours, giving your hand a soft squeeze to help calm your nerves.

The woman turned on her heel and walked back into the office, not another word spoken, and you could have sworn that you sensed a feeling of agitation emitting from off her. You tried not let her mood affect you too much, even though the look that she had given Ranpo would bother you for a while, especially considering they worked together and saw each other almost every day... was there something there that you had to be worried about? Your stomach sank as your pessimism took control, all of your doubts and fears formed into one. Not even his hand in yours seemed to calm your nerves, and the feeling that was once sexual tension that had been building inside you turned into flat out tension.

You couldn't really focus on all the people in the room, they had their eyes on you, but you couldn't seem to lift your gaze from the ground. "She's just shy, isn't my little cinnamon bun precious?" Ranpo said, the feeling of his thumb brushing along your cheek should have been enough to calm you, but even still, the only thing you could think of was him possibly doing the same to the beautiful bob haired woman. He began his introduction, pointing around the room as he said everyone's names. "Kunikida, Kenjii, Atsushi, Tanizaki, Naomi, Kyouka, Dazai, Fukuzawa, and last but certainly not least, Doctor Yosano." When his hand motioned to her the pit in your stomach only grew larger. He said her name with a sort of devoutness. He had never told you anything about this woman, he had never brought her up to you at all, yet he looked at her with almost the same eyes he would give you after a long day of work, when you were the only person he wanted to see... apparently that wasn't the case though... maybe he had more than one person he adored. "Everyone, this is Y/N." He said your name the same way he said hers, but that didn't make you feel any better. In fact, it made you feel worse. Did he think of you the same way he thought of her, or did he think of her the same way he thought of you? Either way, it didn't seem very good.

"Ranpo-kun, can you come over here for a minute?" Her voice might have seemed seductive to anyone else, but to you it was piercing, like a needle going straight through one ear and out the other. The hardest part to handle was the fact that he obliged, leaving you to stand in the middle of the office so he could walk over to her. She shifted her long, slender legs, folding one over the other and leaned back on the desk she was sitting on. You could tell what she was doing, you had done the same type of pose multiple times at home to try to get Ranpo's attention, and the worst part was that it was working for her just as well as it worked for you.

Your eyes were focused on what was going on across the room, unaware of the man that had been making his way over to you. He tapped your shoulder lightly and you quickly turned around, having to look up to actually see his face. He was obviously a very charming man, and extremely cocky, you could see that in the way that he smiled down at you. "So, you look a little uncomfortable. How about I show you around the office?" You tried to remember the mans name from the ones Ranpo had listed off. Tanizaki? Atsushi? Kunikida? No.... oh, that's right. He was Dazai, the one that Ranpo had warned you about before you had even come here. Apparently he was a flirt and a natural born charmer.

Ranpo had wanted you to try to stay away from Dazai unless he was around, but your emerald eyed boyfriend was currently being held up by the beautiful doctor, so you might as well have a little fun. Of course you would never do anything to actually hurt Ranpo emotionally, you couldn't bear the thought of losing him, but you weren't going to just stand by and watch as Yosano clearly flirted with your boyfriend, whether he noticed it or not.

"Is there anywhere that you'd like to see first?" Dazai asked, leaning against the desk as he stared at you, his eyes shut, a small smile on his lips, his head cocked to the side. You could definitely see now why he was the heartthrob of the Agency.

"The coffee shop... downstairs... i-it smelled really nice. I'd love to have a cup." You said it softly, so soft that nobody else had been able to hear you at all, even Dazai had barely made out what you said, but he heard enough. He nodded and pushed himself away from the desk, wrapping his arm loosely around your waist as he led you to the door. You weren't expecting him to be so touchy, and you weren't sure if this would be considered going to far.

You used the time alone with Dazai to learn more about Ranpo and Yosano's relationship, finding out if it was platonic or if there was something more there. When you finally heard the full story you felt awful for even assuming, and even more awful for thinking that leaving the office upstairs to go with Dazai was a good idea.

Meanwhile, Ranpo had finally finished his conversation with Yosano. She had been talking to him about how cute he and you looked together, and that she wasn't used to seeing someone shorter than him. She was proud of him honestly, that he had found someone that he seemed to be truly in love with. She saw how he would open his phone occasionally while sitting at his desk, and his eyes would open for only a second to read the text, then his eyes would close and a wide smile would spread across his face as he leaned back in his chair. She knew before he had even brought you up that he had found someone, and that someone made him truly happy. That's all she wanted for him, he was like a brother to her, and she believed that he deserved nothing but the best.

He turned around, thinking that he would find you still standing in the middle of the office, or maybe sitting on the couch talking to Naomi or Kyouka, but he saw that you were gone, and not only that, but Dazai was gone too. He didn't want to make a scene, of course not, but thinking of you being anywhere with Dazai had him slightly irritated, maybe even... jealous. He had no reason to be jealous obviously, he knew that you would never actually make a move on Dazai, but it wasn't you that he was worried about. You were shy and soft spoken, if Dazai tried anything on you, you would be too nervous to say anything about it or tell him to stop.

His eyes shot open, flashing his beautiful emerald green irises to everyone in the office. They knew he meant business then, clearing a path for him to the door. He already knew where the two of you had went, he thought it was quite foolish of Dazai to try to even take you out of the office in the first place. First thing, he would know exactly where you were, his ultra deduction wasn't just used for crime cases. Also, you were HIS, so it took some nerve for Dazai to sweep you off somewhere to be alone with him, especially when Ranpo was around. He wasn't exactly angry about it, no, just irritated and he wanted to show everyone in the office that you belonged to him, specifically Dazai.

You were at the little booth in the front of the small cafe, sipping from your coffee cup, trying to avoid Dazai's stare. When you put your cup down his hands immediately moved to capture yours. "Wha- What are you doing?" You stammered out, trying to pull your hands away, but his grip was tight. "You have your doubts about Ranpo, and I'm not going to tell you whether you're right or wrong about them. But I will tell you that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon. It would be an honor, a great privilege if you would commit a double suicide with me." His eyes were twinkling, filled with excitement at the possible prospect of having someone to do the fateful dead with him.

"I... uh... uhm... no thank you." You yanked your hands away, and just as you were about to get up you felt a set of strong arms wrap around your waist. You turned your neck to see his green eyes staring into yours, and you couldn't think of anything to say, so you shifted your body in his arms, burying your face in his shoulder. He tsked at Dazai, shaking his head at the man at the table. "I'm not shocked, just disappointed that you would attempt such a thing with MY girlfriend. I know that she is absolutely gorgeous, stunning even, but she is mine. I don't share any of my sweets, her included." His voice was stern, and you could only imagine how he would look. The thought of his face, matching the serious tone in his voice, it had a fire burning deep inside of you.

He led you to the elevator, leaving Dazai at the table in silence. You still didn't know what to say, but Ranpo had an idea of how to make you talk. You had been staring down at your shoes as you waited for the elevator to come down from the top floor, but Ranpo didn't like your silence, not at all. He grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him. "You belong to me, isn't that right my little kitten?" You hummed in response, but that wasn't enough. He shook his head and got closer, his face mere inches from your own. "I want to hear you say it." You were putty in his hands, and you loved when he was domineering like this. It turned you on and he knew it, he knew exactly what he was doing. "I'm your's, Daddy. No one else's." You whispered, and you could have sworn that you heard him moan.

The elevator doors opened and he pushed you inside, slamming his finger into the button repeatedly to close the doors. He pressed the top button, but as soon as the elevator started moving he pushed the emergency stop button. When he turned to look back at you his eyes were lidded, a darker version of the beautiful emerald green. That look alone had you practically dripping, and you were rubbing your thighs together, trying to feel anything, any type of friction. He was leaning in the far corner, watching you with a smirk. "Mmm, Daddy's little kitten is so impatient. Do you need my help?"

He walked over to where you were, moving to stand behind you. You grinded yourself against him as his hands traveled agonizingly slow up your thighs, under the hem of your skirt until he reached your panties. "You're soaking already, has Daddy been keeping you waiting too long?" He was kissing along your neck, biting it occasionally as he toyed with your over sensitive slit making your hips buck into his touch. "Let's see how many times I can make you come before someone saves us, hmm?"

A/N : I WAS SWEATING WHILE WRITING THIS AND I REALLY DO HOPE THAT IT'S GOOD BECAUSE I WAS LIKE "OOOHHHH MY GOSH HOW DOES ONE SERVE SOME GOOD FUCKIN FOOD!!!???" BUT I REALLY DO HOPE YOU LIKE IT!

[baby-grayson]

Sweet Enigma: Part 1

The year is 2023.

The date is January 1, 2023.

Kathleen Walker is sitting at her desk, in her lab. She is biting the nail of her right thumb while scrolling through a massive spreadsheet of data with her left hand. Above her, fifty-year-old fluorescent lights beam down with a gentle hum. She is alone, working through the New Year’s holiday to wrap up a project that will eventually change her career.

Behind her, mounted in the corner of the room, is a small box TV—maybe 13 inches wide at maximum. That TV was usually reserved for either mundane things, like the weather report, or extremely special occasions, like presidential inaugurations. On that night, Kate had flipped it to a random channel, E!News, providing her some comforting background noise in the dark and eerie laboratory. She grunts softly to herself, feeling as though she is thinking in circles.

The black of night had just fallen on the skyline of LA. Outside her small window, Kate could hear the consistent drumming of rain beating against the pavement. Kate despised the amount of rain LA got in the winter; it was a meek imitation of the wonderful snowfall in her beloved Philadelphia. The pouring rain only adds to her negative feelings about working through the night.

Her bad mood only worsened when the next E!News segment came on. Usually, when something crossed her path about Grayson Dolan, Kate was quick to change the channel or shut off her phone. Not because she harbored negative feelings towards Grayson, but because it wasn’t fair to hear about the life of her ex-boyfriend from third-party news sources, without an avenue to ask him herself or tell him about her new life. When the Dolan Twins would get themselves involved in the rare scandal or controversy, Kate would silently support them, remembering in her heart that they were good people.

And that’s all Grayson Dolan was, a memory. The kind of memory that Kate sometimes wondered if she was glamorizing in her mind, or if Grayson was truly as dreamy as she remembered him.

But Kate’s frustrations only grew when the peppy host on E!News started her latest segment from the small box TV.  

“It has been two weeks since Grayson Dolan announced his engagement to fitness designer and model Sherry Maddox—”  this is usually when Kate would roughly grab the remote and change the channel before any of the report’s words traveled to her brain. However, this time Kate slowly spun in her desk chair to see what Grayson’s new fiancé looked like.

Kate is greeted with the image of curvy, busty, blonde who looks something like a cross between Marilyn Monroe and a Disney Princess. She had bouncy blonde curls and a beauty mark on her upper lip. The TV showed a clip of her hanging onto Grayson’s arm at some event. Kate is struck by Grayson’s image: he really is as every bit of gorgeous as she remembered him. 

Kate brusquely turned around—disinterested, a bit bitter, and ready to get back to her work. She quickly grabbed the remote and muted the TV after hearing the words, “Grayson Dolan is scheduled to celebrate his new engagement to fitness designer and model Sherry Maddox tonight. The pair are reported to be planning their wedding in Califor—” Kate stopped the sound before the reporter could continue.

Kate took a deep breath before returning to her computer. She tried to get back to work. She sincerely tried to grab her calculator and punch in some numbers. Her own brain betrayed her. She dropped the calculator on the surface of her desk and sighed. She huffed and puffed, unsatisfied with her own performance that night.

Her head lifted when she heard a drumming noise coming from the hallway. She thought she was the only person working late on New Years’ day.

Before she can stand from her chair to investigate, a man barrels through the door. She freezes in fear, suddenly acutely aware of the dangers that working alone harbors. In an instant, her pulse quickens to a dangerous rhythm. If she were calm, she would grab her work phone and quickly dial campus police. She is too frozen in fear to move. But her fear fades into awe as she recognizes the sharp jawline of his face and the gold flecks in his eyes—he looked as if he was pulled straight out of her memories from Summer 2020.

Grayson’s eyes hold a veil of panic as he stares back at Kate. He lost his breath for a moment.

This gives Kate the opportunity to peer down and see Grayson dressed in button down shirt and printed, velvet suit pants. A much more formal outfit than anything she had ever seen him in.

Grayson’s mind finds an air bubble of clarity as he drowns in Kate’s big brown eyes, plush round mouth, and the wisps of hair escaping from her ponytail to frame her face. “I’m sorry,” his voice sounded as frantic as that moment felt, “I didn’t know what to do, “He ran his fingers through his hair, clearly disturbing his hair sprayed droop. He took in a hard breath and licked his lips, “I don’t know what I’m doing. But I know what I’m doing,” he nodded softly with wide eyes, “I needed to see you. Now. With everything that’s happening. I needed to see you. To see you like here to like in person. Sherry’s been going crazy since…well she flew her sister Coral out for tonight and was mad when I gave my mom the guest room and not Coral, even though she’s pregnant,  and my mom kept complaining that our colors were dark for an engagement party and we needed more flowers but Sherry doesn’t like any of the florists in LA and Ethan kept telling me to hold it together this is just the energy of the moment but it’s not the energy of the moment it’s the energy of everyday and this is going to be the everyday for the rest of my life and I—well I—” Grayson was breathing as if he had just run a marathon.

“Gray—son” Kate finished, not being comfortable using his nickname when he was basically a stranger. “What are you doing here?” Grayson inhaled deeply and looked down at her. He met her eyes. His gaze lost its wild veil for a moment as he said surely, “Two and a half years ago, I said goodbye to you because I knew I wasn’t ready for the kind of love you brought into my life. Well today, I’m ready for that kind of love but I’m engaged to someone who reminds that I will never get back everything I lost when I gave you up.”

“What are you talking about?” Kate gaped, looking from Grayson’s shoes and back to his face, as if she could find the answer on his body. Grayson took in a few ragged breaths while she folded her face in confusion. A million questions ran through Kate’s mind in that moment, but the one that made its way to her lips was “How did you even find me?”

Grayson licked his lips, which were dry from hoarding hot breaths “The school was closer than your apartment,” he strategically avoiding noting that his memories placed Kate’s apartment on the more hostile side of LA, “Google gave me your office number,” he exhaled and held his palms out, “I just hoped you were here.”

“What would you have done if I wasn’t?” Kate’s brown eyes looked up wide, her voice was low and grounded.

Grayson closed his mouth into a tight line, “I—I don’t know.”

Kate had a valid question. If Grayson hadn’t found her working late on New Year’s Day, would he have returned to his engagement part, and his life with Sherry? Truthfully, he really didn’t know the answer. In choosing to escape from his ensnared life, he let his heart make decisions over his mind. His heart didn’t think things through, it only sought out the last person to make him truly happy: Kate.

Kate broke their silence first. “What do you want to do now?”

“I don’t know.” Grayson’s voice was more breath than sound.

Kate’s eyes locked on Grayson’s, for the first time in two and a half years they shared each other’s gaze. Kate’s heart dove into her body, suddenly remembering the feeling of Grayson’s fingertips tracing her naked skin on Sunday mornings, his lips finding comfort on hers for the first time in his van, and the vision of the sunlight dancing off of his bone structure in the early morning on the beach. The emotional unrest of the moment took hold in her mind. No matter where he had been, Grayson was once the other half of her heart: he was clearly hurting, and she wanted to fix it.

Kate stood up and abruptly started shoving her computer and things into her backpack, “Where are you parked?” She held a sense of urgency in her voice.

Grayson shook his head quickly, “I ran.” Kate stopped packing to look up at him, bewildered, “You ran?”

Grayson nodded, “Yeah I ran,” he passed a hand from his forehead to his hair. It was then that Kate noticed the his damp hair, and the drops of water falling from the collar of his button down shirt. Kate wanted to ask how far he had come but decided that his disshelved look was enough of an answer. She opened her desk drawer to grab her keys and told him, “We’ll take my car” Grayson’s eyes held a sort of innocent uncertainty, “Where are we going?”

Kate looked at the ground, her backpack slung around one shoulder and her keys in her palm. She sucked her lips in quickly, and exhaled. That was a great question, where were they going?  Where would they go? Where do an exhausted PhD student and her wayward, engaged, famous ex-boyfriend belong?

They stood there for a moment, in silence and contemplating what the best next move was. Across town, Grayson’s family and fiancé would tell him that the best place for him would be at his extravagant engagement party; Grayson’s heart knew that any place was better than that party. Kate’s senses told her to drop him off at home; but something about being with Grayson lit a fire deep in her. They stood there: shells of two people who were once in love but had been worn and changed by the courses of the individual lives.

Kate looked up at Grayson. He looked so much like what she remembered but decorated in the strokes of a forlorn man: messy hair frizzing at the edges, a heaving chest, wide eyes, swollen lips. Kate gulped hard, recognizing that the last time she had seen Grayson like this, was the last time she had seen Grayson at all.

Grayson sucked in a breath, wondering if he had brought Kate back to reality. He rocked on his heels subtly, wondering if he was testing her kindness by asking her to give comfort to his aching heart. At that moment, his brain realized that Kate might not have even known about his engagement. He closed his eyes quickly, becoming acutely aware of how much he was expecting out of her when, in the current moment, she was only a kind stranger.

Kate exhaled when Grayson closed his eyes. The tension of her heart strings wanted to tether him to her, until he looked like a capable man again. “My place” she announced, “We’ll go to my place.”

The car ride to Kate’s apartment was eerily silent. Kate’s mind was as full of questions for Grayson as Grayson’s was with questions for Kate. What had happened after they broke up? Had they both been okay? What did okay mean anymore? Did you think about me after we ended things? Do you still think about me now? The answer to that last one was obvious to Kate, Grayson had to still be grasping onto some piece of them to come to her on the night of his engagement party, professing his love for the woman he hadn’t seen in years.

The rain pounded on Kate’s windshield, filling the car with a consistent drumming noise. The sound of the rain highlighted the lack of sound coming from the pair.

Kate still lived in the same apartment she had when she first moved to LA. Grayson noticed how much homier it seemed then, two and a half years later. Kate’s space was still filled with IKEA furniture, but it had been decorated in throw blankets, house plants, and polaroids with her new friends. It was having been a cozy apartment, had it not been filled with the memories of the tainted spaces from that faithful summer.

When they approached her front door, Grayson was caught by the memory of standing on the other side of the door while Kate was stranded in her own bathroom. When Kate inserted her key and turned the deadbolt, Grayson was washed by the sensation of kissing Kate the first night he apologized to her, feeling her towel slip off and hit the ground as they moved toward her bed. When he stepped in the doorway, he was hit by the feelings crawling out of Kate’s apartment after ruining their morning by placing terms and conditions on their relationship.

Kate moved forward, unaware of the conglomeration of thoughts and emotions bombarding Grayson’s brain. She dropped her backpack under the table, laid a hand on its surface and leaned on it. Her mouth went dry when she tried to speak, “Do you want a change of clothes? Or something?” Grayson looked down at himself, now suddenly aware of the wet mess he looked like. His black velvet pants were soaked and ruined, and his shirt was so wet that it clung to his body like a wet shirt at the beach. Any other day, Grayson would have been slightly proud of the bulge of his muscles under the thin fabric. Today, it made him look like the kind of mess he felt. He opened his mouth to answer but was interrupted by the sound of a key turning in the front door. Grayson looked confused. He turned to Kate, wondering if she had gotten a roommate in the time since he had last visited.

Kate’s head whipped around to face the front door; her eyes went wide. The person on the other side of the door fumbled with their key in the lock.

“Shit,” she muttered.

“What is—” Grayson didn’t finish his question because Kate grabbed his arm and quickly ushered him into the bathroom. She shoved him threw the bathroom door and sent him hurdling toward the back wall.

“Just—just wait here,” she took in harsh breaths and closed the door on him, trapping him in the bathroom.

Frantically, she tried to position herself in a way that looked as close to normal—as if that night was anything normal. She leaned against her dining room table, laying a gentle hand on the corner. She picked up a banana, in hopes trying to appear as if she belonged in the scene—of her own apartment.

As the lock on Kate’s front door opened, a tall young man with a bright smiled walked through the door. He kept his hair trimmed tight, even though it held a close curl to his head. He had a wide nose and kind eyes. Wesley was objectively good looking: not the Greek God that Grayson Dolan was, but still an attractive man.

Wesley slipped in the doorway with a smile, none the wiser to the soaking Dolan being hidden in Kate’s bathroom. “Hey Katie,” he smiled and walked over to kiss her cheek, “didn’t think you’d be here tonight.”

Wesley Brooks was a medical student, hoping to become a neurosurgeon. He met Kate at a party last summer, about six months ago. He had instantly fallen for her big brown eyes and joyful laughter.

Wesley had quickly become a staple in Kate’s life: he would run coffee to her when she was working late, cover for her when she slept in too late, and give her his containers of duck sauce when they ordered Chinese food because he knew how much she loved it.

As a couple, Wesley and Kate made sense. They were both beautiful, brilliant, driven, and young. Kate sometimes felt out of place at school, where most of her peers came from wealthy families and privileged backgrounds: Wesley was one of the few people who could relate to her. He had grown up in rural Georgia and went to college on a generous, philanthropic scholarship.

Kate gave Wesley the key to her apartment about four months ago, when classes had started up again. Wesley regularly stopped by to start making dinner while Kate cleaned up her lab, or to water her plants when he knew she was having a busy week. That night, Wesley stopped by to pick up his gym bag, that he left in her coat closet, before he headed off for a late-night cardio session.

He walked into the room with a graceful step. He kissed her cheek quickly. Kate threw her shoulders back and stiffened her jaw. “You doing alright Katie?” Wesley’s voice was warm and sweet, triggering Kate’s stomach to start lurching.

She nodded quickly as Wesley walked over to the coat closet to grab his bag, “Yeah, just stress. I’m still finishing that project,” her voice wavered no less than three times over the course of that sentence.

Wesley threw the duffel bag around his shoulder and looked back at her, “I’m surprised you’re home honestly, I thought you’d be pulling another all-nighter. Make sure you eat dinner and get some sleep tonight, okay?” He smiled at her from the corner of the room. Kate nodded erratically, “I will,” she threw him a half-hearted smile. “Love you Katie,” Wesley said with his hand on the doorknob. He walked out of the room as she muttered a meek, “Love you too”.

Grayson slowly crept out of his clandestine hiding place in the bathroom. He had heard every word while dripping water onto Kate’s bathmats.

“You have a boyfriend?” Grayson’s question was more of a statement.

Kate exhaled and closed her eyes, hoping that the tension of the moment would disappear if she pretended it wasn’t there.

“I’m sorry,” Grayson started, “I’m so so sorry.” His lips curled. “I should have never left the party, I should have---I could have---I—” “It’s alright Grayson,” Kate’s voice was sure and confident in her answer.

She took in a deep breath, “Let’s go, let’s not—be here anymore.” She hated herself for fearing another intrusion from Wesley.

That Malibu beach remained the same since the last time they visited: embracing on a towel after declaring their love for each other for the first time. Neither one of them was sure who suggested they take refuge on its shores, but it was the perfect place for Grayson and Kate to be alone on that January night.

The rain soaked into the sand, muffling out the drumming noise. The dark sky was not suitable for a midnight walk, so the pair found shelter under a large boulder. They sat down, each not wearing anything that was acceptable for a beach. Sand sneaked its way into Grayson’s dress shoes. Kate’s leggings were being soaked by the wet terrain.

She moved first, looking at him as the wind whipped her dark locks around her head. Her voice was earnest and sincere, “What happened Grayson?”  

“After we broke up, I—I didn’t exactly know what to do. I thought about you all the time, nearly every day. But I knew that wouldn’t do my any good.” Grayson thumb at a where the sand met his wet pants. He exhaled roughly.

He spoke the next part with a vigorous sureness in his voice for the first time that night “I didn’t know—At first, I threw myself into my work: I took up some directing projects, poured energy into Wake heart projects-- I worked with Ethan to design a clothing label. We wanted to remind people to stay positive and keep smiles on their faces.”  

He took a deep breath and nearly mumbled his next few words, “It’s ironic, smiles were so much emptier without you.”

“Eventually, I-I shook myself out of it and started seeing some ….people, started trying to work on all those things that I stupidly did to you back in the day.” He wiped sand from his hands and turned his eyes to the ground, not wanting to have Kate, even in his peripheral vision as he continued.

“I met Sherry about a year and a half ago; she went to an event as someone’s plus one. We started dating like right away. She understood. Not-Not understood me in the way that you do-- did of course, only Ethan comes close to that. But she really understood what kind of pressure was on me with all the businesses and the attention. She always wanted a family, she said that on our first date. I proposed at Thanksgiving, I figured there was no reason not to be with a woman who not only understood my lifestyle but wanted to start a family like me.”

He shook his upper body, as if trying to shake off the raindrops from his messy figure. He looked up from the ground to meet Kate’s gaze as the wind whipped her hair around her face. It was an enchanting image: the sight of her on a beach at midnight; the kind of image that would come to him in his most feverish, rare dreams. She was everything feminine and sweet, with eyes that could offer him comfort after any plight: so different from everything else in his world: his sweet enigma. He swallowed hard and licked his lips, his voice took on a breathy, desperate tone.

“But there is a reason. And that reason is you, Kate.”

[revalise]

After the Sun [M] | 02

Pairing: Chrollo Lucilfer x Fem. OC

Genre: Romance and eventual smut

Rating: M

Words: 3730

Notes: Huge thanks to Rissa @bnha-aesthetic​ or beta reading this chapter!

I’m laughing at Astra’s future scenes, and I can’t wait to write it. THE BOLDNESS AND AUDACITY PLEASE.

Masterlist | Prologue | 03

Chrollo Lucilfer gets everything he wants, when he wants—even if it means undergoing extreme measures. Nothing bothered him, until an aphrodite, Astra Gerber, appeared one night and stole from the infamous thief. In return that Chrollo doesn't report her, he strikes a deal. But it could be more than what Astra bargained for.

CONSEQUENCES

There are three times Astra remembers disappointing her father.

Sure, she’d been doing that for a lot longer but those three times were the ones etched in her memory to never be forgotten.

The first time, Astra decided to take up Interior Design instead of Engineering, which her father had chosen for her beforehand.

They were aligned with law, politics, medicine, and studies that make their name. And to be a Gerber is to follow the rules set for them by their father; to be of use and bring praise to the family. It ran along their lineage, and no one deviated from it.

A family stays with you through tough times. Rooting for you and cheering you on to go further and take on the world as they guide you and keep you from falling. But not this family.

There is no room for failure. And it certainly meant no room for her.

Astra did not fancy making buildings upon buildings. The thought of having to toast her brains out with bricks, cement, and the hammering of nails did not feel suitable for her. Though she’s been told it wasn’t exactly necessary, she just couldn’t fathom the thought.

If it didn’t allow her to wear her killer heels for the rest of the day, she’s out of it.

However, she did fancy making a life out of establishments. The beauty inside, as she dramatically called it. She thought it’d be better to pursue something she likes, instead of something that did not appeal to her.

Unfortunately, her father thinks otherwise.

The second time, she told him that she’s going to try show business.

Martin lashed out then and gave her a reprimanding. To even think of joining that world, where everyone stepped on each other, interacted with hypocrisy, and filled with scandalous issues would be such a shame for the family. A disgrace.

Many wouldn’t know the reason why elites are so against show business. But then again, not many knew how much of a whorehouse it could be.

Young ones, coaxed by the industry, think of it as how they regard the night stars in the sky. But they forget their feet that’s stuck in the sewer. Only when they’ve fallen hard do they realize how deep they’ve sunk. Or how they couldn’t take those times back.

Ignoring her father’s comments and great disapproval, she continued anyway.

Despite her rising popularity, she didn’t realize the weight of the responsibilities it required. Thankfully, she was popular enough to only settle for modeling. Occasionally, she pairs up with a few girls from her agency to sing and dance to an original song. It wasn’t exactly an official group and was only meant for publicity, so it didn’t require too much work. The jobs she took with her big paychecks would be enough to sustain her personal, lifestyle, and social ‘needs.’

Lastly, when she refused to marry the man her father chose for her. Martin thought, if he couldn’t get anything from Astra because of her stubbornness, it’d be better to marry her off to some man who’d be of use to him.

All that ended to an embarrassment between both families when Astra decided not to show up, too hungover to even move. Not that she planned on meeting with the man anyway.

Three disappointments, and it caused their already tarnished relationship to rift further.

To Astra, it was absurd that her father thought he had complete control over her.

Who was he anyway? He was just some man who screwed her mother and left her pregnant until his mistake blew up in his face. He was just some man who slapped her with counselling with strangers when it hadn’t occurred to him that maybe his daughter wanted to talk to him instead.

She didn’t have the perfect role models to look up to. But she certainly was not a fool to obey someone just like that. She was sure to never take the path someone else had decided for her.

Astra Beatriz Gerber only belongs to Astra Beatriz Gerber.

Yes, she felt bold after all the times she went along with her wishes, rejecting her father’s commands. But she knew that after all that, she’d never get her father’s approval for anything again.

Martin, despite all the sunken wrinkles on his face and silver streaks against his raven hair, stands tall right in front of her, mocking her very existence.

And Astra felt small.

“What are you doing here?” Martin asked gruffly. The simple question sounding as if a question of mockery.

A chill snaked down her spine. She snickered inwardly, laughing at herself that her father still had that effect on her.

That his approval is still something she yearns for even after all these years.

She felt the need to clench her first to calm herself down. There was something about her father’s atmosphere that makes her crumble every time. There was something about his demeanor that felt icy cold and biting against the skin, taking all the warmth she longed for.

Perhaps it was the way he spoke in such a manner, so formal that no trace of familiarity could have alluded. But it wasn’t as if he’d treated her like one.

She teetered inside in stillness. He wasn’t always that way. He wasn’t always as distant as he was. Yes, there was always a gap between them, but it wasn’t as bad as it was now. She didn’t need to ask to know why. It was due to all her repeated disobedience.

Clicking heels sounded against the marble floors, its veins illuminated by the golden, luxurious chandeliers above. Their gaze shifted to the source.

Margaux Gerber, her older sister.

While Margaux looked elegant and sophisticated clad in all white, Astra looked rather odd in the picture with her bold choice of colors.

Margaux had an elegant aura about her. It’s in every piece of clothing she wears and every word she says. Whatever she did, she always looked superbly classy and luxurious.

It translated into the suit dress she wore, accessorized with golden buttons and chains, stopping until her mid-thighs and paired with matching white platform pumps. Her tone is a lovely sound, gentle, and calming as rain.

Her long, black, silky, and straight hair was side-parted with a pearl clip, giving her a look of femininity. A dainty necklace surrounded her smooth neckline and the matching earrings dangled from her ears.

In contrast, Astra looked odd against Margaux with her off-shoulder black mini dress with see-through balloon long sleeves and red ankle-strap platforms.

Everyone who knew the two sisters would see the vast difference between them. While Margaux received all respect from her peers and colleagues, and even strangers she passed by, Astra was only paid admiration - worldly admiration.

It was clear as day she lacked the gifts her sister possessed.

Astra tried hard to hide her feelings, the pounding of her heart pounding against her ears and the rushing of her blood against her veins.

She hadn’t seen her family in two years. Hadn’t heard from them in two years. Never even received an invitation to family dinners since the last time she disobeyed her father.

Her father’s presence was enough to melt her, turn her into dust to be taken by a gust of wind, and the addition of her sister made it even worse.

The sister that ignored her very existence and only looked at her with distaste.

She felt dizzy, nauseated, too small, and too large at once.

Astra tried to contain herself. She took slow and deep breaths, calming her fast-beating heart.

But anxiousness was mixed with perplexity when she watched as Margaux sauntered alongside with a familiar face she knew. The familiar face she was only conversing with earlier. From the looks of it, they were acquainted.

Anger boiled within her blood, and it perplexed her why.

“Dad,” Margaux elegantly greeted her father with a smile that showed off her perfectly white teeth, ignoring her sister’s presence even as she watched her.

Margaux's gaze shifted from her father to the man beside her, Chrollo Lucilfer. Her hand made its way to Chrollo’s arm, locking it with hers, her fingers tightening around his biceps. “This is the one I was telling you about.”

Astra’s brow raised upwards. A grin spread across Martin’s lips as he formally extended his hand with a deep, old chuckle, “I see. I see.”

Chrollo reached forward to shake Martin’s hand, in the process untangling Margaux’s arm with his.

“I’ve heard a lot of good things about you from my daughter,” Martin’s voice was deep and formal, different from the icy tone he used with his daughter.

“Oh, please,” Margaux chuckled and rolled her eyes but with a smile on her face. Astra wanted to vomit at what she witnessed. She mouthed the same words from Margaux’s mouth with a face and roll of her eyes.

“Likewise, sir,” Chrollo politely replied with a last shake before shifting his gaze to Astra, who put no effort in hiding both her curiosity and displeasure, standing beside Martin. And though they were close in space, the invisible barrier between the father and daughter couldn’t be avoided.

“Will you join us for dinner?” Martin followed with a question.

The way Martin spoke to Chrollo, with all his fake politeness, made it evident to Astra that this was more than just a casual talk. She knew nothing about business and the way connections worked and how it was built, but she could tell that her father was up to something with Chrollo. She just couldn’t quite put her hand on it.

However, Astra hadn’t exactly been stellar with all her guesses in the past. That mere fact was enough to make her drop all her doubts.

“I would’ve loved to. But I’m afraid I’ve already had dinner with Astra,” Chrollo replied. No ounce of fear or intimidation etched on his face.

That only made Astra wonder more.

Most would fall into her father’s intimidation and end up embarrassing themselves, especially young ones like Chrollo who’d done nothing to prove themselves just yet - or as she thought.

Like Margaux, Martin also had an aura about him. A very intimidating one at that. One could say that it came from their father’s influence.

“Astra?” Martin didn’t try to hide the undercurrent of curiosity as his brow shot up.

“Astra, sir,” Chrollo found his way towards Astra before casually slipping his hand around her waist, “is a very good friend of mine.”

“Oh?” Martin narrowed his eyes, his wrinkles creating lined dimples across his face.

If he was shocked at the revelation, it didn’t show. And Astra knew better than anyone how controlled her father’s poise was.

Margaux, on the other hand, raised her brow and her blood throbbed. Darkness flitted across her eyes as she stared at his arm around Astra.

Astra couldn’t help but savor the perplexed faces of the two. The way Martin’s brow furrowed and the way Margaux’s disposition suddenly braced for defense, like she’d been exposed to something she shouldn’t have.

“You know each other?” Margaux's voice was hushed but marked by vehemence. She forced the corner of her lip to twitch upwards.

A wolfish smile tugged on Astra’s mouth and she prepared whatever lie she could muster to annoy her sister. A long list of lies clouded her mind.

The best lies were always mixed with the truth.

But before words could come out of her mouth, Margaux spoke yet again to finish her sentence, “Chrollo?”

It hadn’t been her who Margaux had been directing her question to. Astra rolled her eyes in irritation.

‘You evil witch,’ Astra hissed and cursed her sister in her mind.

If Margaux did it on purpose to embarrass her, she wouldn’t put it past her.

Chrollo glimpsed at Astra, who had her gaze in the opposite direction with a frown, before shifting it towards Margaux to reply with a vague answer, “We met under certain circumstances.”

But Chrollo’s answer wasn’t enough to quell her curiosity, and Martin interceded before she could ask again, “Margaux,” he said calmly, stopping her.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you,” Martin said.

“The pleasure is mine, sir,” Chrollo flashed a smile.

“Please,” Martin chuckled, “call me Martin. I have a feeling we’d be well acquainted.”

Chrollo laughed from beside Astra, “I sure hope so.”

Martin’s gaze shifted towards Astra, to her surprise, “Astra,” he said acknowledging, his eyes lingering on hers.

Margaux turned to examine her as they strode past before shifting away to look at the lobby ahead.

“Now about the deal,” Chrollo started once the two disappeared completely from their sight, his index wiping the corner of his mouth.

“About that,” Astra started. The feeling of what had just happened still rushing to her veins. “How about we do it next time?”

Chrollo’s brow shot upward, “Why?”

She turned her head to him, flashing an impish grin, “I have something better in mind.”

“No,” he replied flatly, making her frown.

“Then leave me alone,” the impish tone from earlier had gone missing from her voice. “Threaten me. Say whatever you want to say to ruin me. I don’t care. People are always going to talk shit about me. There’s always another version of me in someone else’s mind. So I’d rather listen to the people who know me best instead of someone who has only seen me twice. It won’t hurt me.”

With that, she stalked past Chrollo, who’d been dumbfounded at her sudden outburst.

Had she gone mad? Had she forgotten what Chrollo held against her?

Chrollo dashed to walk alongside her. His gaze didn’t bother shifting to her, only to the vast length of the lobby before them, “Fine. What is it you want?”

Astra ignored him but a smirk played on her lips. Of course, she won again. She quickened her pace to the elevator, eager to dash to the room she rented until she could go back to her place.

Once she’d gone inside the elevator alone and pressed the button to her floor, she watched as the elevator doors slowly blocked her view of the golden majority of furniture and red carpets in the lobby, until a quick hand stopped it from closing.

Chrollo fixed his blazer with a tug before sauntering inside, settling on the opposite corner from where Astra stood.

“I want to go out tonight,” Astra said.

“Okay,” Chrollo replied impassively.

The elevator then started moving up, up, and up. Though Astra found it odd that Chrollo had been quiet beside her and didn’t shoot him a glance.

Why hasn’t he been talking?

“What is it with you?” She asked sharply, crossing her arms as she turned her body to him, who stood perfectly still in calmness.

Chrollo didn’t answer.

“Wow.” She prolonged the word with amusement before rolling her eyes as she flipped her hair, “You followed me, stalked me. And for what?”

Chrollo furrowed his eyebrows but said nothing yet again.

Astra scoffed. She moved forward, each step with screaming arrogance, “Yes, I’m Astra Gerber. What do you want? A picture?” she mocked.

Chrollo didn’t reply, irking Astra even more.

Not only did she have a confusing reunion with her father and sister, but she had also been entangled with this mad lad right in front of her.

“Aren’t you going to answer?” Astra poked Chrollo’s arm again and again before she yelled so loudly, “Hey!”

With the timing of her yell came the ringing sound of the elevator before it opened. The color on their face paled as they were greeted by Astra’s… questioning manner.

Astra’s head whipped towards the door as she saw the horrified faces of those waiting outside.

She cleared her throat and slunk away, making sure to confine herself in the corner, while Chrollo stayed on the other.

Her fingers reached for the sunglasses in her bag, which she donned as she hid her head sidewards as a throng trickled in, blocking her access to Chrollo. And she made sure to keep her head down to avoid locking gazes with anyone.

The elevator went up, up, and up, until Chrollo and Astra were left alone together with another passenger who caught the situation with Chrollo. An elderly woman turned to glare at her, a look of disapproval written on her face. She was all too aware of the sharpness the lady was giving her; she could see it in the mirror on the sides of the elevator, which is why she made an effort never to turn away from the corner. Let the others think she’d been admiring herself all along.

Her eyes narrowed as she saw a glimpse of Chrollo’s reflection in the mirror behind the lady. And she could have sworn she saw a ghost of a smile across his lips. But before she could relish in the sight, the elevator bell rang and giggles from the opposite side seeped in the enclosed space. The elderly woman stepped out.

The titters were from a body of personnel, who made an effort to even bow their heads slightly at the sight of Chrollo. Their voices blended against one another, “Good evening, sir.”

Astra rolled her eyes, ‘Why only greet him? I’m a guest too.’

Chrollo dismissively waved his hand as he flashed a smile, “Good evening.”

Astra’s eyes narrowed as she caught a glimpse of a blonde-haired girl who smiled maliciously and batted her eyelashes at the man. She didn’t try to be discreet when she scoffed, making them shift their heads in her direction. Not even when Chrollo stepped out of the elevator with her as she wrapped her arm around his, giving a snakelike smile to the women who seemed interested in him.

To her surprise, Chrollo didn’t have the intention of inviting himself to Astra's room. She tilted her head to the side to ask why, only to be given a smile and a polite gesture to escort her in her chamber before he parted, promising to return in a few hours.

Astra couldn’t quite contain herself when she slumped on her bed with a wide grin on her face, her hands spread upwards just like her legs. The sudden warmth in her chest hadn’t worn off yet.

It took her a few good hours to get herself ready. She picked a dress plucked out of the stars. And she’d twirled enough in the mirror to know how it looked good on her, accentuating her strong features and her molten eyes.

Only when she heard the soft knocking did she step out of her dream. The warm sensation from her chest traveled to her stomach as she met with the man she’d been expecting.

When Astra mentioned that she wanted to celebrate tonight, Chrollo didn’t think twice about accompanying her. But it seemed that Astra shrugged off his kindness when she decided to stray away, leaving him for himself to look for her.

The flashing and the quick changing of lights illuminated the darkened club. A throng of strangers danced and flocked around Astra. She swayed her hips, closing her eyes as she felt the rhythm of the music pulse within her senses. The alcohol's effect sinking deep inside her veins.

“For someone who relies on my good graces, you’re certainly bold,” Chrollo’s deep, raspy voice whispered in her ear as a large hand snaked around her thigh, pressing the thin material of her dress so harshly against her skin.

“You’re very selfish, aren’t you?” Chrollo hissed, his breath brushed against the crook of her neck as he held her from behind.

An impish grin flashed across Astra’s lips as she let out a sultry chuckle. She whipped her head to the side and her nose touched Chrollo’s, a hair’s breadth separated their lips. “The world is wide open. And mine for the taking.”

A hush fell between the two and the world went mute around them as the crowd faded into the background. She was all too aware of how close their faces were, but she couldn’t bring herself to shift away.

Chrollo’s black eyes glowed with want as he watched her. She was something out of a dream.

He felt a pang of desire through him so strong it took all his self-control to keep himself from taking her. But he didn’t want to give her a night she could regret. Not when she’s in her high.

Astra felt a palm press against her stomach, feeling the warmth it deigned before it slid upwards gradually. It passed in between her breasts, and she fought the urge to bite her lip. She felt the warmth wrap around her neck softly. Soft enough to avoid entirely disrupting her breathing.

He wanted her so bad, it hurt. But he didn’t want it to stop.

Chrollo tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She breathed, so softly that her lips barely moved.

He found himself closing the short gap between them, turning her chin in his direction with the hand he used around her neck. He looked at her once more as if asking for permission. Astra’s starlit eyes found his, making his blood thrum in his veins.

She slowly closed her eyes, and he took in her beauty once more. Her long lashes, red lips, and straight nose.

Chrollo’s sudden appearance. Chrollo’s bargain. Chrollo’s relationship with her family.

She didn’t have the faintest idea of what any of it meant and how it happened.

And why was he treating her like a damsel? Had he noticed how her father and sister ignored her? Had he been acquainted with Margaux even before her? Is this a plan?

Questions like that should’ve been clouding her mind. But she was too indulged with the fact that standing before her, was the most beautiful man she'd ever met.

Astra turned to twine her arms around his neck and his eyes blazed with hunger. Though she was tall, her neck ached as she matched Chrollo’s gaze with his height, but it abated once Chrollo’s hand found its way to the small of her back, pulling her closer to him.

Never mind the crowd around them. Never mind the questions that’ll follow after. Never mind the sharp gazes Margaux sent her. Never mind the mysteries surrounding Chrollo.

Consequences be damned.

[let-it-raines]

Hello! Don’t know if you’re accepting prompts but just saw a clip of gerrit and amy cole playing catch- she’s pregnant and still bringing the heat! Thought of emma and killian in the CMIYC verse :) hope the muse inspires you, pretty please and thank you :)

I saw that video @galadriel26! Too cute! If anyone wants to watch it, I’ll link it      | Here | 

And if anyone is interested in reading this on ao3, that’s | Here |

-/-

September 2022

Emma hates him.

She really, really does, and she doesn’t plan on changing her mind about that anytime soon. He doesn’t deserve it, and she’s going to stick to that thought process for the foreseeable future.

Because that’s definitely rational, and she is a beacon for being rational at all times.

Or not.

Definitely not. But at least part of the time.

“Take the train home,” Ruby says as she hands her the largest cup of lemonade Emma has ever seen. She’s going to have to pee approximately eighteen times after she drinks it. “I’ll ride with you so you’re not alone.”

“We don’t take anything close to the same route, and I don’t care about riding alone.”

“I don’t care that we’re not on the same route.” Ruby taps her shoulder into Emma’s as Emma takes a sip of her drink. God, this is delicious. She could probably live off of lemonade right now if she didn’t think about how many calories she consumed with a cup this size. And the peeing. So much peeing. “We could get Graham to come get us. He can give us a police escort.”

“That’s excessive.”

“You look miserable. Excessive might be in order.”

Emma hums and leans back in the stadium seat, propping her feet up on the back of the chair in front of her. She needs to wash her sneakers. They have seen better days, and she loves these too much to do anything but preserve them forever. She definitely should have bought more than one pair when she got these.

Killian would have killed her.

As if he doesn’t have a million shoes of his own.

She’s definitely buying at least two more pairs of these shoes when she gets home. She deserves them.

“I’m not miserable,” Emma promises before taking another sip, “but I’m tired. I have been here since eight this morning, and Killian is out on the field running around in circles.”

“That’s called jogging.”

Emma rolls her eyes and tilts her head to lean it on Ruby’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

“I will soon because I’m about to leave for the day. I just wanted to make sure my nephew was going to be okay.”

“Oh, so what about the woman who is wearing extremely elastic shorts to house your nephew? Because if you don’t ask about me, I swear I’m going to pop off on you.”

Ruby chuckles and wraps her arm around Emma’s shoulder. “People ignoring you and only mentioning your stomach today?”

“Oh my gosh, yes. And my boobs. I had actual, real people reference my boobs and how much bigger they are because I work with a bunch of assholes who can only focus on a woman for her boobs.”

“Your boobs are absolutely gigantic, and you’re only seven months.”

Emma’s eyes narrow. If she didn’t want this lemonade so badly, she’d pour it on Ruby for that comment. “If you ever have a kid, I’m going to remind you that you think being seven months pregnant in the summer in New York is an easy thing.”

“I only meant that your boobs are going to get even bigger along with your ankles.”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs, gently hitting Ruby. “I should have never told you I have to wear compression socks while working.”

“That was a mistake.”

“My ankles are normal size.”

“If you say so.” Ruby nods down toward the field. “It looks like your baby daddy is winding down. You going to be okay if I leave you to him? Or are you going to murder him for making you wait here? I’ll support you in that, but there’s only so much I can legally do to get you out of that situation.”

“Nah, I like him too much to murder him.”

“I’ve heard he’s really good at sex, too.”

“Rubes, you’re ridiculous.” Emma pulls herself away from Ruby, standing from the seats and wiping away the sweat that’s pooled at the back of her thighs before grabbing the hair elastic off her wrist and pulling her hair up into a ponytail. “You’re also not lying if I have to be totally honest with you.”

“Ha, I knew it.”

Her eyes rolls, and when Ruby stands, Emma leans over to hug her. She doesn’t actually know what she would do without Ruby and her penchant for asking totally inappropriate questions.

“Go home and let me go try to drag the crazy man off the field, okay?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s trying to win the World Series again to impress you.”

“That would be ridiculous.”

“But it’s definitely true. You might be married to the most romantic man alive.”

“I’m going to tell Graham you said that.”

“Please do. He could step up his game.”

“I’ll slip it into the next conversation, but try as much as you might, there’s not much of a chance of Graham winning the World Series. But I’ll send him a text with a very blunt hint.”

“Perfect.” Ruby places her hands on Emma’s stomach, and Emma has to bite her tongue. She only lets Killian do that because people touching her stomach is freaking weird and should not be a socially accepting just because she has a human growing inside of her. “Baby boy Jones, your mom is going to murder your dad for making her stay here all day, and she’s going to murder me for touching her stomach, so I want you to know that I am the most beautiful woman you’ll ever see.”

“Goodbye, Rubes,” Emma sighs. She takes another sip to keep from laughing. “I’ll let you know if we’re still here in the morning.”

“You might as well wait. You’ll just be super early for work tomorrow.”

“At this rate, we both will be.”

Ruby turns and walks away toward the exit while Emma makes her way down the stands until she’s at the gate that will let her out onto the field. The sun is nearly finished setting, the overhead lights turned on and beaming down onto the field, and the heat from the day is finally melting away so that it’s not excessively sweltering.

She cannot wait for winter. It’ll be cold and comfortable and she won’t be pregnant anymore. She’ll probably be freaking out because she has no idea how to be a mother, but at least her ankles won’t be slightly swollen anymore.

Hopefully.

It’ll all be worth it. Supposedly.

No, definitely.

She’s just miserably hot today and wants to be home on the couch with Netflix on so that she can get up and do this all over again.

They’re going to the ALDS, and she’s so damn excited. They’ve been rebuilding the team for years now, getting back to the top of the game, and this is the first time in a long time that Emma’s felt it in her gut that they’ve got a chance. 2019 feels like decades ago, but it’s only been three years since their lives were insane.

Well, insane in slightly different ways.

At least there are no deadbeat dads working with ex-boyfriends to ruin their lives. She couldn’t go through that again. She needs some kind of calm to be able to get through the next few weeks and keep from getting too stressed.

Pregnancy was obviously a great idea.

“Hey, twenty-nine, they called off practice a few hours ago.”

Killian keeps jogging, but he slows his pace until he’s in a walk and heading straight toward her. He has absolutely soaked through his t-shirt and his shorts, and he is definitely going to smell horrible on the car ride home if he doesn’t shower here.

“I’m getting extra credit, love.”

“You’ve already aced the test. Let’s go.”

Killian pushes his hair off his forehead before reaching back to tug at the back of his shirt, pulling it off and tossing it to the ground. Emma’s stomach swirls, and she swallows the lump in her throat.

Damn, she is luckier than she has any right to be.

Maybe sitting on the couch and watching Netflix isn’t what she actually wants to do right now.

“You see something you like there, Swan?”

“I feel like you took your shirt off because you know my hormones are crazy and that I’m still a little extra horny…on occasion.”

“I took my shirt off because I’m covered in sweat. Something like what you suggested would simply be a perk.”

Emma laughs and meets Killian halfway when he kisses her. “You are incredibly sweaty.”

“If you’re willing to wait a little longer, I’ll shower here.”

“I’m expecting it.”

“Good.” His lips run across her jaw before he pulls back. “You want to do me a favor and do some pitching practice with me?”

“You’re kidding.”

“I notice you didn’t say that as a question.”

“Because it wasn’t.”

Killian’s lips stretch into a smile, and she recognizes it. He’s about to try to charm her pants off, probably quite literally, but she’s not going to let him. She’s going to ignore him and keep on drinking her lemonade.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I’ll cook dinner if you practice with me.”

“You’re already cooking dinner, so you’re really slacking on the convincing.”

“Damn. But to be honest, I was counting on not wearing a shirt to be all the convincing you need.”

Emma shakes her head and takes one last sip of her lemonade before putting it down on the ground. “You have to rub my feet when we get home, and you better promise that you’re not going to nail me with a ball.”

“So many dirty jokes I could make there.”

His brows waggle, and she reaches over to shove him before walking to the pile of equipment behind home plate. She finds a glove that she doesn’t hate, grabs a ball, and meets Killian on the side of the field where he’s waiting for her. They’ve done this countless times out here, in stadiums across the country, and on the rooftop of their house. Though, that last one has led to a broken window at the brownstone across the street, and that was not a pleasant conversation.

She misses one catch and disaster happens.

“I got another jersey today,” Killian tells her as she gently tosses the ball his way.

“For a newborn or for an older kid?”

“I’m thinking toddler. It was cute. They’d gotten it customized with my name and number.”

He pelts the ball back. Okay, so they’re not going super slow today.

“You get it from a fan?”

“Yep. A group of women.”

Emma closes her eyes and shakes her head as she smiles. That does not surprise her in the slightest.

“We’re going to have enough onesies and jerseys to dress this kid until he’s a teenager because of groups of women who love you.”

“What can I say? My pretty face attracts a lot of women.”

“How pretty would it be if I gave you a black eye?”

“I think I would still be at least in the top two of the most stunning men on the team.”

She hears the thwack of her ball in Killian’s glove. “You are never lacking in confidence, are you?”

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

All the time, she thinks.

He lacks it all the time, but he hides it until the darkness of night when it’s just the two of them. The demons have been coming out to play lately with the pressure of the season mounting, that possibility of greatness at the tip of his fingers, and with her due date getting closer as they’re all wrapped up in baseball.

The two of them wanted this more than anything, but their own parents screwed them over so badly that Emma gets the demons. She has them, too.

Not when they’re out here, though, and there’s nothing and no one in the world but the two of them.

“Did I tell you Ruth is coming to town next week?”

“Is she staying with us?”

“If that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, of course, love. I’ll wash the sheets in the guest room and get some groceries delivered. She still on a pasta kick?”

“She definitely is. You should see the texts she ends me. I don’t think I’ve ever looked at that much pasta.”

“I have, but it wasn’t the good kind of pasta.”

“All pasta is good pasta.”

His ball hits her glove a little harder than she was expecting. Damn, Jones. “That, darling, is not true in the slightest. For instance, wheat pasta and then that pasta you burned.”

“That was one time,” Emma groans as she shakes out her hand while adjusting her stance. “I swear I can cook. I haven’t died of starvation yet.”

“It helps when cereal is available.”

Emma throws the ball as hard as she can at Killian, but he doesn’t even flinch when he catches it. She can throw a fantastic ball, too, so he definitely should have flinched.

Sweat is now dripping down her back, the humidity in the air seeping into her clothes and her skin, and maybe she should take her shirt off as well so she doesn’t get covered. Killian might have had the right idea there.

She is not taking her shirt off in the middle of Yankee Stadium no matter how badly she wants to. That would somehow not go well for her and someone would see, and she’d have even more shit to put up with. Emma’s definitely punching the next person to tell her that she looks like she’s going to pop any minute now.

She’s not.

But why the hell do people think that’s okay to say to a pregnant woman? She swears some people forget that pregnant women are still people all on their own.

“Twenty-nine, I love you, but if you keep making fun of me while killing my arm, you’re going to have to sleep on the couch. And the bad one, not the one in the living room.”

“Does your arm really hurt?”

“I may be a little sore from working out this morning. I’m mostly miserably hot even though I thought it was getting cooler out here. Can we move somewhere that never gets this hot?”

Killian nods and starts walking toward her. He takes his glove off and once he reaches her, he pushes the hair that’s curled on her face back up into her ponytail. “We can go someplace with air-conditioning right now. I feel like that’s an okay compromise.”

“After you shower, right?”

“What? I don’t smell great right now?”

“I already told you that you smelled awful.”

Killian hums as the corners of his lips turn up, and she doesn’t have enough time to run before he’s wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in until she’s covered in sweat and the awful smell of someone who desperately needs to shower. It’s a million times worse than when he leaves his sweaty clothes in the hamper instead of putting them in the washing machine.

“Stop,” Emma groans as she pushes him away. “Killian, stop. I’m going to smell awful.”

“I think it’s too late for that.”

“Oh my gosh,” she laughs as she stops trying to pull back. She’s already screwed. This is disgusting. “You’re a child.”

He shrugs and smiles so widely that his eyes crinkle. “I’m in my thirties, and I play baseball for a living. I’ve never had a reason not to be.”

“Well, that’s not true.”

“No, I suppose it’s not.” Killian releases her from his embrace before stepping away. “C’mon, Swan. There’s no one in the clubhouse. We can go shower. I’ve got clothes for you.”

“If you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do was say.”

“I have been trying for that this entire time.”

Emma shakes her head and chuckles. “You’ve got an early game tomorrow, and you actually have to play. Let’s go shower and then go home. I’m exhausted, and I was promised a foot rub.”

-/-

“What the hell?”

Emma shifts in bed and twists her neck to look at Killian. “What?”

The mattress dips and suddenly Emma feels Killian’s pressing into her back as his arm loops over her stomach. “Look at this.”

She looks down at his phone and at the video that’s playing. It’s the two of them from last night when they were throwing the ball back and forth.

What the hell?

“How did someone get this?”

“I don’t know. There must have been someone still in the stands that saw us and then they sent it in to SportsCenter.”

“Usually I’d be bothered by something like this, but I look like a hell of a lot better pitcher than you here. Look at that accuracy. And according to the caption, I’m a catch.”

“It also says it’s unfair to me because we’re playing two on one.”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs as she leans back into Killian’s embrace. “Have you already looked at the comments?”

“Against my better judgment, I did. There were quite a few about my lack of a shirt and how they could understand how you got pregnant.”

“I feel like a hell of a lot of people have no idea how sex works then.”

Killian snickers into the back of her neck and drops his hand to her stomach. “You do have great accuracy, love.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Rob?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely, Rob. He’s undoubtedly the best pitcher on the team.”

“I guess you’ll have to keep practicing with me until I get that title.”

“We’re going to be practicing for a long damn time then.”

Killian pulls her back against him and buries his nose in her neck. His scruff is prickly against her skin, but the burn of it is pleasant as his lips run across the cords in her neck before settling just below her ear.

“Are you and the kid going to gang up on me or are we going to let him like me for a little while?”

“I think we’ll let him like you until he’s five, and then he’s my partner in crime.”

“That is the most reasonable plan you’ve ever had.”

She huffs and places her hand over Killian’s on her stomach. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, babe. Though, I’m definitely going to be the one to teach Jace how to throw a ball. You suck.”

“Aren’t you the one who broke the Taylor’s window?”

“I said teach him how to throw. That was a catching problem on my part. We’ll have to let Scarlet teach him all about that.”

“The thought of Scarlet teaching my kid anything is terrifying.”

“Please. You trust Will with your life.”

Killian nods into her neck again and places a soft kiss there. “I trust him with you, yeah. Do you want some breakfast? We need to get ready for work soon.”

“Do we still have that fruit bowl?”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll have that. Just give me five more minutes and then we can get up and get ready.”

“Five more minutes tends to mean about an hour.”

“No,” Emma sighs. “Five minutes. I mean it.”

“Fine, Swan, we can have five more minutes.”

-/-

-/-

@mrtinski​ @bluewildcatfanatic @killianswannn @dorisquinn​ @onepunintendid​ @authorarsinoe​ @stunningswan​ @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury​ @superchocovian​ @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog​ @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings​ @carpedzem​ @tornadoamy​ ​

[eternaljouska]

Days of Cats and Bears - Yoon Jeonghan

Pairing: Jeonghan x Reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt-Comfort

Warning: Self-Harm (The harmful thought and action, please proceed with caution), several expletives

Word Count: 5,450 (It was supposed to be 3k-ish hehe)

Note: Short Term 12 came to mind while writing this. Happy very late birthday uri cheonsa, Jeonghannie~ Happy late world mental health day, and happy birthday, Jiminnie, you’re also an angel. I love the title header, I love this story, and I hope you love it too. Enjoy!

“I don’t need this,” you spit out, your bloodshot eyes piercing through your caregiver’s bored ones. Your teeth are chattering and your body is shaking from your burning rage. “I know you think I’m a lost cause, but you’re wrong. I’m not a cause. I don’t need this. I don’t need you.”

Hyorin doesn’t say anything back. She turns around and leaves you with the echo of the creaking doors.

The next day, it’s Jeonghan who greets you good morning. Jeonghan is new in the facility; yesterday was his mini welcome party. But now they assigned him to you. You scoff, “You’re not Hyorin,” stating the obvious.

“You don’t like Hyorin,” he asserts as he grabs a seat on the edge of your bed.

Although that’s the truth, you brush his words away. There’s something more crucial than you disliking Hyorin, a question melding with the simmering anger inside your chest which makes your voice break at the end of your sentence. “Why, she gave up on me or something?” She’s not supposed to give up. It’s her fucking job. She’s not supposed to try and prove your point.

Jeonghan’s gaze captures yours for the long second it takes for you to look away. “No. I must tell you, she’s quite relieved that she’ll have a break, but no. I volunteered.”

He volunteered, and you don’t know whether to be glad or to be mad. Your thumbnail digs into the skin of your forefinger. And it only doubles the fury you’re curbing that the familiar act doesn’t give you any sensation at all. They’re blunt, your nails. Hyorin checks them every three days; she clips them too short for your liking. I’m not a cause. Does he think I’m some kind of a level-up challenge in a game that he needs to win?

“I know what you’re thinking. I—“

“You don’t,” you cut him.

Jeonghan closes his mouth, the gleam in his eyes undisturbed by your hostility. “Alright, I don’t. That’s true. Anyway, choose an animal.”

“What?” you mumble, his swift topic-changing catching you off-guard.

“Choose an animal. That’s how we learn about our mood from now on. For example, I’ll be a cat: belly full, lounging on the sofa, generally calm, and admittedly”—he leans forward, voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper—“just a tiny bit sleepy.”

You scoff, more than a little bit amused by the new caregiver. The others are friendly—professional friendly, just a bunch of people slightly older than you who get a little cocky from the experience of being entitled to or responsible for something. But this guy, he seems to be actually enjoying his time, and that somehow calms the aggression flickering both in your chest and in your thumb. “That’s stupid,” you say briskly, and Jeonghan springs back up to his previous position as if your comment had physically slapped him on the face. “You made that? That’s even more complicated than the previous system.”

“I- I,“ he stutters, “I’m sad. I thought you would appreciate that.”

He’s dramatic, but that seems like fun.

“Appreciate the fact that you’re sad? Very much do,” you say as you bite back your smile.

“I want a cactus,” you confess. “I don’t need an ice cream cake.”

An ice cream cake was nice; it was good. And seeing that you’ve never had one in all these months you’ve stayed in the facility, you knew better to inhale it in one go before vocalizing your protest. You’ve always requested for a cactus before, but they deem it too dangerous. You know they don’t do their research this way. Even though your knowledge of the plant is rudimentary at best, you know that not all cacti are dangerous, as they put it.

It’s been only less than two weeks since Jeonghan became your assigned caregiver, and he’s managed to gift you an ice cream cake. He would give you all the credits, though. ‘Seven consecutive days of cats!’ he exclaimed as he made his grand appearance through your door less than an hour ago. A cat: belly full, lounging on the sofa, generally calm, and admittedly more than a tiny bit bored. So it makes all the sense in the world that you hang your hope of a cactus upon him. With the progress that you’ve made since his arrival here, they’ll certainly trust him, right?

And they do.

After a long—and unnecessary—discussion involving Jeonghan pleading and defending your case, he barges into your room five days later with a small box covered with white wrapping paper with chickens all over it. You’ve anxiously and expectantly waited for him and the news he’s bearing, and although it’s long since he threw away his modesty of knocking at your half-closed door, you find yourself jump from your seat in surprise when he does.

“What is that?”

“Hens-and-Chicks!” His face brightens, seemingly proud of what he has to offer you on his outstretched hand.

But you, on the other hand, are still having some difficulties to fully comprehend his blaring signals. “What?”

“You don’t know? You should know!”

“Again, what?”

“Hens. And. Chicks! A cactus,” he groans as he stomps his way to your bed. “For someone who’s adamant about wanting a cactus, you should’ve known what Hens-and-Chicks are. Argh, I’m so mad. I think I’m close to the bear level, oh my god, this is so disappointing. Ugh, you’re bringing my aggression level to the max.”

You snort, “You’re so dramatic.” You crawl closer to him and accept your present and carefully remove the tape from the wrapping paper. You despise it when people tear the wrapping paper almost as if they’ve buried a deep-running grudge towards it.

“That was supposed to be a good joke.” He nods at the wrapping paper that you set aside.

“What? This? This wrapping paper? Why, because you’re giving me Hens. And. Chicks! in a box wrapped in Hens. And. Chicks! wrapping paper?” You raise your brow at him, and when he feigns a scowl, you pat his head playfully. “A good one, Jeonghan. A good one.”

He watches you that afternoon. As you place the little pot close to the window and water it for the first time, you can feel his gaze that’s sticking to your back like your clothes on a summer day. You ignore it, too busy spooning waters for your new adoptee. You want to thank him, but what comes out of your mouth is a bark of ‘Why hadn’t this baby come sooner?’

Well, that’s the best he can get from you. But he’s fine with that.

Another week has passed, and you almost received the ice cream cake reward yesterday if only your cats hadn’t been interrupted by one dog. ‘It was one day, Jeonghan. One. Day. And that’s because Soonyoung was antagonizing my Henchi,’ you reasoned. Henchi, by the way, is how you call your plant—Hens-and-Chicks abbreviated, so creative.

Jeonghan had only chortled before he brought his hands forth from their hiding place behind his back, and you gasp, gleeful giggles bursting past your previously pouty lips. “I thought someone said ‘I don’t need an ice cream cake.’ Boy, oh boy, now that they have Henchi, I guess now we need the ice cream cake, after all. Anyway, what’s Henchi’s status?”

“Oh, so now it’s Henchi’s status all we care about? And for your information, I didn’t sound like that. Also, Henchi’s still a cactus, the last time I checked. And I’m still a cat.” You take the small plate from Jeonghan’s hand only to find out that something is slightly off from your ice cream cake. “No, scratch that. I’m a dog! Yoon Jeonghan, did you eat my ice cream cake? Ohoho, I think I’m gonna be a bear.”

The young man smiles triumphantly even though he realizes he might be murdered right on the spot because of what he did. “Yes, I—“

“What?! How dare you?!”

“Six-seventh of an ice cream cake for six of your cats. That’s what you—“ His words are interrupted by a shriek that quickly transforms into the laughter you’ve become familiar with—and extremely fond of if you have to add. “Hey! Stop hitting me! That will cost you your ice cream cake! Y/n!”

“No, I’m not gonna stop. You deserve this! You could’ve just cut it from the cake and ate it like that instead of eating straight from my cake.” You keep on hitting his back in spite of his numerous ‘ow!’ since you know that they are as fake as your attack.

“Y/n, stop it right now. I swear—“

“What is happening here?”

You both snap your head towards the door in the instant that you hear his voice, Mr. Choi, the facility’s supervisor. He and Hyorin are standing in the doorway, both giving you suspicious looks. “I’m sorry, we’re just playing games,” Jeonghan answers, immediate enough that you dare to hope they would believe him.

“You know we can’t have games that involve violence.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I will not use that game again.”

From the way he speaks, you know Jeonghan is nervous. And seeing that Mr. Choi only glanced at him once before continuously eyeing the melting ice cream cake atop your nightstands, you understand why.

Shit.

“You’re not supposed to give me the cake, were you?” you shout-whisper after the sound of Mr. Choi and Hyorin’s steps fade into the background as they walk farther.

Jeonghan averts your worried eyes and gives you the tiniest of a smile. “Just eat it, okay?”

Jeonghan is distant in the next few days. You change your animal daily, but he says nothing. So you spend all day sitting in front of Henchi, feeding it two spoons of water right after Jeonghan’s visit to clip your nails ends. Unlike Hyorin, he does it every four days.

You count Henchi’s bulbous leaves over and over again, every day, as you contemplate the changing in Jeonghan’s behavior. There’s no more cat day for you. It’s hard to feel full, calm, and bored when you’re a boiling pot of concern and temper. And now, dread also throws itself inside your pot, for you notice that when you’re about to water Henchi, the bottommost leaves are turning brown. The chair screeches at the haste of your standing up. “Jeonghan! Jeonghan! Jeong—“

“What happens?” he gasps out, breath heavy from the short run he obviously did to reach your room as soon as his legs allow.

“Henchi,” you sob. “It’s—it’s rotting. It’s dying.”

Jeonghan’s body sways out of balance when he takes his first step towards you. “Let me see,” he breathes out as he kneels to take a closer look at Henchi. He sticks his thumb and forefinger under the plant and pulls every brown leaf and tears them off the rest of your Hens-and-Chicks. You look at him warily but do not stop him, your thumb curling to dig its nail into your forefinger. And that action strikes you as familiar and at the same time, peculiar. You can’t remember the last time it happened. It’s been too long.

“Just, don’t water it for the next two weeks, and it’ll be fine.”

He disappears before you say thank you.

Six days after that, you are reduced into a quaking ball of sobs and whimpers. And that’s how Jeonghan finds you in the corner of your room behind the door.

“Y/n!” he calls out, terror dripping generously from his lips despite only saying a single word.

“Henchi… Jeonghan, Henchi…”

Today, you decided that you would water Henchi regardless of Jeonghan’s advice. Four days ago, you found the new bottommost layer of your plant to be rotting, so you plucked them off Henchi’s healthy body, leaving only four rosettes behind. Day after day, you worry your lips into the bite of your teeth and your skin into your nails. You haven’t watered your cactus in days, and the soil is visibly dry on the surface, so there shouldn’t be any reason for it to continue rotting.

Two days ago, Henchi has merely three rosettes left. That’s why when you woke up this morning you wondered whether underwatering could somehow be the reason why. But alas, when you picked up your glass of water and a spoon, you realized that there’s no plant to water anymore.

“Y/n,” Jeonghan coos after he saw that rot had successfully ousted the green flesh off Henchi’s rosettes. “Y/n, shh, stop crying now, it’s okay.”

You grit your teeth, preventing the scream imprisoned in your throat. “It’s not,” you seethe, trying to keep your volume low, lest other caregivers start to crowd in your room. “Henchi died because of me. It’s not okay.”

Jeonghan falls to both of his knees in front of you, his hands reaching out for yours, but you don’t let them. “Henchi,” he starts, “Henchi… you love Henchi too much it died.”

“Bullshit.”

“No, hear me, you- you watered it too much it died. See, water is your love, and the small plant could only take so much. Now, being loved is a burden, Y/n, even more than the act of loving itself.”

You know that those are white lies he’s using to assuage you. But somehow, you let yourself hung your hope upon him once again as you let his cold fingers grasp yours. You don’t need another death attached to your name. And right after that thought crosses your mind, your breath hitches.

“Have you been on Cocaine?”

“It’s none of your business, Y/n. Let me go.” Your younger brother has grown to be taller than you are, stronger than you are, but the hand that you hold is only shaking yours weakly, not enough to release it free. Little do you know, that is nothing but a camouflage for the tremble on his red knuckles. What you know is that the protective clutch his other hand has over his satchel must have hidden your answer.

“Give me your bag.”

“No, Y/n, let’s talk about this—“

“I said give me your bag!”

“Noona,” he pleads. He never calls you that, being only a year apart and so close to each other and whatnot. He only does it when he desperately wants something from you. “Please. I need to go. Let me go.”

“Jisung, how could you do that to yourself? To me?”

He cries. “Noona, please, we need to go. I’ll tell you later, I promise. I’ll stop. I’ll do whatever you want, but please, let’s—“

“Ya! Jisung, you bastard! Give me my money!”

Your attention moves from your brother’s wide eyes to the burly man calling out for his name. The man runs towards where both of you stand with overflowing vehemence, and that alone sends shivers down your back.

“Noona, run! Run, I said run!” Your brother’s urgency is clear through the way he speaks. You want to tell him that whoever that man is, he’s close, but then he shoves you with all of his might. “I’m sorry! I love you.”

The burly man surges towards your brother and punches him in the face. Again. And again. And you just stayed there, stunned. Until both men direct their attention to you and your brother cracks out, “Run!”

And you did.

You run to the nearest police station. But when the officer found your brother, it’s too late.

“Y/n? Hey, it’s okay, it’ll be—“

“Jeonghan?” You call him, the weight of your brother’s death growing bigger and bigger in your chest and the only thing stopping you from exploding is Jeonghan’s white lies you choose to believe. “Do you think that’s why he died? Jisung? Because I love him too much?”

Jeonghan reads into the line of your lips and the wide of your orbs, and he nods, smiling at the sliver of hope that he discovered there. But then your eyes are blinking, searching for truth on his gaze, and your lips are quivering, tears flowing freely until they disappear at the cusp of Jeonghan’s palms on your cheeks. “Is that why then?” Your voice is the weak flutter of a butterfly’s wings when you speak, and your face holds the agony of that same butterfly emerging from its chrysalis in the past, and Jeonghan wants nothing else for you to expand your wings and take your flight courageously already. “Is that why I’m not dead? Because- because—“

“Y/n—“

“No, listen, listen, that… I- nobody loves me. That- that’s… That’s why I’m here in the first place, right? Right?”

“No, no, no, Y/n, no. That’s not right. That’s not—“

“But that’s what you said earlier! Henchi”—you grab on the flesh of your arms and paw at it as you speak—“Henchi died—“

“Y/n, stop that, give me your hand. Y/n, hey, look at me. Look at me, I’m here. I’m here, aren’t I? I don’t die yet. We’re on the same page, Y/n. We’re still alive. But you know what, everybody’s gonna die. And I believe that’s because someday, everyone’s going to finally have it in their life. That person who loves you so much, you can’t help but share the burden of loving, together. And your brother, Y/n, he loved you so much and you loved him just as much, if not more. And let me tell you, Y/n, that much love is dangerous. You are loved, Y/n. You are loved.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” There’s something in his eyes that makes you want to sob even more—if only to prolong his stay and the comfort he offers. You’re certain; tomorrow he’ll be a stranger to the Jeonghan you first knew. “Come, give me your hand. Let’s clip your nails, alright? Trying to hurt yourself to quicken the arrival of death doesn’t make that person comes earlier to your life.”

Right before Jeonghan walks out of your room, you call him, “Jeonghan?”

“Yes?”

“Will you… will you wait with me? Will you stay with me until that person comes?”

Jeonghan only smiles.

It’s been eight days since they threw Henchi away; they didn’t let you keep Henchi’s plastic pot in your room. And you went berserk. Because Jeonghan didn’t even spare you a glance when that happened.

It enrages you, the way he only shows his reaction when you hurt yourself. You only want to know what happened—what changed so that he became so indifferent towards you. Was it the ice cream cake accident? Did Mr. Choi do something? You tried to confront him after they threw Henchi. And the next day. And the next day. But in the end, you got tired of trying. So you stop minding him. Or at the very least, stop minding him consciously.

It was two days ago that you got a breakdown. You bit your bottom lip through Jeonghan’s daily check-up, and he left after ten minutes of strangling silence. And when you set your lip free from your teeth, you dazed for a second from the metallic taste in your mouth. You laughed then. How stupid of you. They’ve clipped your nails blunt, but you’ve forgotten all about the sharp ivories stored behind the boundary of your lips. You latched them onto your arm, stronger and stronger until tears were blurring your sight and a purplish mark was left on their wake.

Jeonghan noticed the tremble on your harmed arm the next day he checked up on you, and although he was a ravenous, aggressive, and triggered bear, you were glad because he’s once again the man that you’re falling for.

And you’re sad. Because it seemed that the only way you’ll get to see the glimpse of that person was after you planted noxious violet on your skin.

You’re walking in the dim corridor to the kitchen to heat up a glass of milk in the microwave, trying to be as quiet as you can even though you know the microwave will surely kill the quiet you attempt for in such an obnoxious way you want to cease from existence. And yet, before the microwave has the chance to make true of your prediction, the creak of a door interrupts the silence first.

“Hyorin, did you hear yourself? Kissing in the facility would be strike one for you.”

Your heart beats violently at the sound of his voice. You hear it every day, but those words he utters on the daily, they’re like the voicemail greeting of a lost person. But more than anything, you want your heart to stop at the knowledge of who he’s talking to and what the conversation might be about. But in spite of your protesting heart, you tiptoe your way to the source of noise anyway.

“It’d be two for you, after that stupid ice cream cake,” Hyorin scoffs, “I don’t care.”

And you freeze, for Hyorin suddenly buries Jeonghan’s face in the shadow of her head, proving your latest prediction to be true. They kiss. And you thank all of the powers on the earth that you can still turn your body around not to witness your hope shrivels and dies in front of your eyes. You walk blindly back to the kitchen and slump down, leaning on the bottom shelf of the island as you cry. You bite the back of your left hand to suppress your sob. Burying your head on your knees, you clasp your other hand on your ear, refusing to hear the sound of the door opening and closing in a snap.

You don’t know how, but you made your way to your room. You blink. It’s funny. You feel more lifeless than any living person should be, but you can’t laugh, perhaps that’s the very first sign of death.

Jeonghan sees the bite mark, but he doesn’t bark. He whispers his questions, but you keep your silence. And that goes on for days. Until he explodes, and you shatter.

“What’s your status? Is it the bear?” It is clear that he’s trying to control himself, but his tone has long since mismatched the pastel color of his voice.

“What fucking bear Jeonghan? Polar bear? Sloth bear? Grizzly bear? This is fucking ridiculous, you know that?” Your eyes glint with fury, although perhaps it is your perpetual tears that catch the morning lights for the sake of giving out the illusion of life.

“What happened to you? Where’s this coming from?”

“I don’t know, Jeonghan. What happened to you?” He drops his gaze and falls quiet. “Oh, now you’re quiet.”

Your right hand is hiding under your blanket, blunt nail impressing crescents onto your skin. Jeonghan is hiding in front of you, and you want to find him, but one of your hands is too preoccupied and the other is too weak from the scar you inflicted.

“I don’t need this,” you mutter, your thought flying back to the time where Jeonghan had never set a step in your life. “Why don’t you just let me out? Fuck, you don’t even tell me what it takes to get out of this fucking facility.”

“We don’t want anyone to fake or manipulate their condition just to have us let them go.”

“But why? Why Jeonghan, why?” The first sob successfully tears itself out of your mouth, and you see a glimpse of the man whose hand you long to hold. Hatred is forming in your gut. Why? Why only now are you here? “Why am I here? Why? I want to go. I want to go!”

“Your parents want us to care for you.”

At his remote and mechanical answer, your nail digs deeper into your flesh, and in place of the scream bubbling in your throat, you laugh hysterically instead. “Oh, they won’t care.” You watch him watching you crumble. “How… How could I fucking live like this?”

“Y/n, give me your hand.”

“No. Tell me, how could I fucking live like this?” By now, you’re raising your voice since Jeonghan rushes to your side to uncover the hiding place of your furious fingers. “I said no! You think you’re helping, right? Right? Let me tell you this, you’re not! You made things worse! You made things fucking worse!”

Jeonghan catches your hand, and you scream, “Let me go! Fucking let me go! Let me out this fucking place! Why can’t you just let me out and—“

“Because you’re gonna fucking kill yourself, Y/n! That’s why!”

Silence falls with the weight of Jeonghan’s outburst. That’s true. You know that’s true. In fact, that’s the continuation of the sentence he interrupted.

The thin walls listen and words spread. Today is Jeonghan’s last strike.

The face that greets your day is not Jeonghan’s. It’s Hyorin’s. And you want to cry the tears your exhausted ducts can no longer excrete—after last night, you would think your body doesn’t have extra water to waste anymore. Jeonghan is gone.

You were about to close your eyes again, physically and mentally tired to deal with Hyorin, moreover since she only reminds you of that night in the corridor. But it’s the familiar image of chickens on a slick paper that rouses you up so quickly you could’ve collapsed back onto the bed from the pounding in your head. She tried to hide it behind her back, but it’s too late, you’ve seen it, a box very much like the one Jeonghan used to present Henchi.

“Morning. Let’s see your status,” Hyorin lets out, leaning her body on the wall just next to the door. Hyorin, she’s always so straightforward. You’ve always wondered why she works in the facility when she doesn’t seem to like what she’s doing—she doesn’t even bother to hide it. But in any case, you guess it’s good of her not to pretend.

Knowing that your status and the box she’s hiding must have a causative relationship, you decide to lie to her. “A cat. Just an exhausted cat,” you croak out.

But in turn, Hyorin frowns. “What do you mean a cat?” Her words are not hostile; they’re genuine confusion.

“What did Jeonghan say when he reports my status?”

“The usual one-to-ten scale. What do you mean? Did he not follow that method?”

You blink. “Don’t worry about that. He used the scale, but he had his additional method, just to make sure.”

Hyorin looks at you long before she hands the gift box to you, “From Jeonghan. Mr. Choi didn’t allow it at first, seeing how bad it was when your plant died. Doesn’t want to repeat that. But Jeonghan can be very persuasive,” she pauses, throwing her gaze away from you to the floor, “And I helped, too. I’m sorry. This is all my fault that Jeonghan’s gone. I’ve never really warmed up to anyone in this place, but it’s different with him. I think you’d agree to that.”

You nod. Jeonghan was different. But it doesn’t matter. He’s gone.

“And you’re right. This work is not for me. You’ve shouted at me, screaming all those words, and it’s only now that I realized the truth behind them. I’m sorry, Y/n. I guess I have a problem of my own. But anyway, this is my last day of work, and the least I can do for you is help Jeonghan convinced Mr. Choi about that present.” Hyorin tugs the edge of his lips into a small smile, and at that moment, your heart warms even a little. It’s like you’re seeing a different person standing in front of you. And suddenly, that warmth shoots up to your eyes, filling them with more tears you don’t know you still have. “Goodbye, Y/n. I hope you’ll find your peace within you.”

���Thank you,” you whispers, heart heavy with another farewell.

It’s another Hens-and-Chicks. You knew that from the second you laid your eyes on the wrapping paper. You sniffle, the memory only adds to your pain. There are two letters, one stamped with a cat sticker on the envelope and the other with a bear; you open the bear first.

Dear Y/n,

I have no idea what bear the bear on the bear sticker is. But it is a bear since it’s a bear sticker. And I wrote this because I’m half a bear, and I believe you are too. I’m sorry. I hurt you, and you hurt yourself because of me. I hope that doesn’t come out as cocky. But Y/n, I’m truly sorry. For the harsh words that I said and for the stranger that I’ve become. I’m sorry. Mr. Choi suspects that I treated you differently than the others, and I suspect that it’s true. I didn’t want to be relocated to a new facility because I want to be there for you. I want to wait with you. You asked me about it that day, but I couldn’t promise you anything because you see, here I am unpacking my stuff in a new facility (not now since I’m writing this, but probably at the time that you read this.) Despite wasting my time to be indifferent towards you, I’m still stupid enough to get relocated. You might be confused as to why everything happened. You know that we, the caregivers, have rules in the facility too, break three and you’re out. And you guessed it, I did. First is the ice cream cake, the third is the outburst, and the second involves Hyorin. She did something purposefully to add my strike; you never knew what a broken-hearted person’s capable of doing until they do it. But don’t be mad with her or yourself. It’s nobody’s fault but mine. Hyorin helped to get this confidential letter to go past Mr. Choi after all. She helps convince him about Hanchi, too, you see (for JeongHAN’s Hens-and-CHIcks—HA! I’m more creative than you!) I trust Hanchi in your care. I know you’ll do well (I printed out tips I found on the back of this letter. Also, Hanchi lives in Henchi’s pot. I saved it from the trashcan.) But don’t get too heartbroken if things don’t go the way you want them to be. Be gentle with your heart, Y/n. Be kind to yourself. Don’t bite, you don’t want them to start pulling out your teeth (I’m sorry, I’m laughing at the image of a toothless Y/n.)

The other envelope is your key. I can’t elaborate on that, but I know you’ll understand. This has been a long letter. I hope what I wrote here calms the bear in you, Y/n. See you on the other side. I’ll be there when you finally spread your wings and fly.

Sincerely,

Jeonghan

You bring the letter close to your chest before your free-falling tears manage to land themselves upon Jeonghan’s handwriting and ruin it. You want to revel in his words, read it over and over again and save it in the locket of your heart. You don’t want to open the other envelope, not yet. You don’t want the moment to end, but you know it’ll never end—not if it’s Jeonghan. He stays; he will stay with you no matter what. Through the letter he promised you he’ll wait with you, and you trust that he will. So you let your bear go into the wild and his letter back into its home.

The cat envelope saves one big folded poster, and you understand why the cat sticker is there. The envelope—or the poster—is a sanctuary for seven columns and fourteen rows of various cats in various poses. Several cats are missing from the first and last row. Frustration slowly crawls alongside the flow of your blood at your failure of comprehending Jeonghan’s words at the end of his letter. The other envelope is your key. You begin counting the number of cats modeling on your poster by then; there are ninety of them all. Ninety cats are your key.

The other envelope is your key. See you on the other side.

Ninety cats are your key.

And then it occurs to you just what Jeonghan means. You snort, eyes glimmering with both tears and newborn hope. That man and his wit.

That night you dream of your brother, a white cat sleeping on his lap. He strokes her clean furs lovingly, and you raise your head when he suddenly stops. He sees you and smiles. And you aren’t awakened with a jolt or a scream or a sob. That morning, you wake up with a smile. And you share the rare crescent of your lips with the new face who greets you.

Wait for me, Jeonghan, wait for me.

Note again: Is this the longest fic i’ve written so far?? This is how things turn out when you take your time on them, people. Also, Leo, if you read this, I freaked out when I saw that succulent ask you rb, but I didn’t tell you because I was writing this at that time and I give out no spo hehe.

Thank you for reading!

[cutegirlmayra]

How will you write Mighty and Knuckles being in a relationship ( not with each other dont take it the wrong way!! XD ) ? And how to make them NOT out of character?

Almost didn’t let you slide with that XD

So, from what I gather, here’s my best kinda ‘hypothesis’ on the matter.

Knuckles is a little easier because of all the data we can find on him. Especially with his relationship and interaction with Rouge, we get a better inkling of what a romantic relationship would be like for him.

(Knuckles blushing, lol)

So, Knuckles is very much about duty, honor, and valor. He’s a hot-head, naive and gullible person, but he’s also very knightly in that he really does respect and take things seriously. He has might, yes, but he also has a heavy enough heart to weigh the aggression he sometimes feels down a notch.

Knuckles is actually quite playful, once he figures out what he’s doing. (LOL) What I mean by this, is that in his interactions with Rouge, if he doesn’t know she’s coming on to him, he is rather suspicious of her actions (already, anyway…) and tends to be clueless. However, when he is aware, he can get easily flustered and his hot-headedness shows though.

This is one example, the scene where Rouge makes a comment and he flips out, but you can also see he thinks he’s being teased. (Kinda is, lol)

Another thing is Knuckles isn’t afraid to “Bite back” in a relationship. (no, that’s not a dirty comment) What I mean is, he’s not shy about having an argument or fighting back. This is actually really healthy. (No, anger or violence is not healthy, and is not what I’m talking about) Talking through issues or situations, getting passed anger and holding back aggression is something Knuckles is actually really wise in doing. Yes, he can get angry, but to solve an issue? He’s willing to talk and not put something off, not disregard the other person. He’s sorta considerate that way.

Because of this, he’s able to ‘banter’ back in a romantic relationship, causing playful spats and fun ‘play fights’. So this ‘combative’ nature is not always a bad thing, it means he’ll always engage so long as his partner lets him know what’s going on.

Working together is another big thing. Knuckles has spent most of his life in isolation, so being able to work as a team (Or even not to constantly be stubborn and fight) is something he’s still working on. If his partner is able to help him improve his weaknesses, there is a humble side to Knuckles as well. He recognizes that he needs his partner, and hopefully, that means his partner needs him too.

Besides what we see with him and Rouge (Even him saving her at one point) we can also tell by his personality that he wants to be helpful and useful. He wants to understand, it’s just difficult for him. He’d need a strong-willed person to get him going since he can be stubborn and combative. But again, it’s because he’s not shy to communicate that can help his partner see his true intent. Knuckles has a pure heart, and he shows this by trying to help out and oftentimes being the first one to jump in and try and do something when bad things are going down.

Moving off of Knuckles for a second-

From what I can gather (canonically) about Mighty, is that he’s got a good heart and strong ambitions towards pacifism and nature. He’d go well with someone of a calm or kind disposition. He also seems to enjoy traveling, so someone who wouldn’t mind the ‘nomadic’ lifestyle would fit him well.

In all honesty… A hippie. Hook him up with a hippie, no-shoes, tree and grass loving activist and you’re good. (LOL HE LIKES “FOREST BATHING”. I MEAN, COME ONNNN…)

Wiki Define: “Nature therapy, sometimes referred to as ecotherapy, describes a broad group of techniques or treatments with the intention of improving an individual’s mental or physical health, specifically with an individual’s presence within nature or outdoor surroundings. One example of a nature therapy is forest bathing or shinrin-yoku, a practice that combines a range of exercises and tasks in an outdoor environment. Garden therapy, horticultural therapy, Kneipp therapy or even ocean therapy may also be viewed as forms of nature therapy.” (x)

This guy would buy essential oils. Give him a partner who cares about mental, physical, and social well-being. He’s not into the social stuff as much as the nature therapy for mental, emotional, and physical health. So someone spiritual and social would definitely balance out his character a bit, though he may resist it a little, he might crush hard soon enough. To me, he seems like someone who would fall in love slowly but soon–all at once. (lol)

However, while watching some of the Mania Adventure clips, there is more revealed about him here I’d like to address.

For one, he is willing to fight if necessary; however, if he can find a better solution, he will. He doesn’t mind making people worry (Due to his ‘missing’ streak) but he still deeply does care about his friends, even willing to surrender the Chaos Emerald for someone he holds dear. (Which also makes me think he’d be greatly upset if his romantic interest got captured or was imprisoned. Considering how he was once imprisoned by Eggman as well, I’m sure his resolve would be very aggressive in getting them back. A “gentle giant” might fit this stereotype for his nature.)

“You still hurt my friend and are evil! I won’t let you get away with this! If you’re gonna run, I’ll find you! I’m getting that Emerald back!” - an estimate of what he might sound like.

I also headcanon he’s attracted to strong people. I’d have to imagine that someone had to be strong to put up with him xD Physically and emotionally, I think Mighty is a quiet character who will step up and be subtly romantic, but I think his partner would have to get through his hard shell first.

What I mean is, Mighty is constantly wandering around and doing his own thing, so his partner would have to find a way to be apart of that lifestyle, showing him they can stay beside him in that regard.

I also feel like, with things I’ve observed from him, that he’s extremely loyal. I think it would be easy for him to experience heartbreak, but he’d take it quietly and without showing it too much. Though I think he could love deeply, he probably hurts just as badly… Find him a sweetheart who loves nature and flowers, peace over war, and maybe knows some epic fighting moves and can smash a boulder with their bare hands and I think you’ve nailed his perfect partner lol

How was that? :) I’m sure there are many ways to interpret these characters in a romantic relationship. So feel free to surmise or headcanon you’re own possibilities! After all, characters grow and change when meeting new people and being introduced to new situations in their lives. So if you can give a plausible circumstance, meaningful reasoning, and determine from there what the character would do? I think you’d be able to create a lot of different mates for these two wonderful characters!

And that’s all I’ll say for now ^^ Thank you for your ask, precious anon!

[joanaflbarbosa]

Marina Abramovic

Marina Abramovic, born on November 30, 1946 in Belgrade, is a performance artist who started her career in the early 70s and has been on the market ever since. Her work involves body art, resistance art and feminist art, the way she relationship between artist and audience, she like to explore the limits of the body and the possibilities of the mind. Acting for more than four decades, Abramovic defines herself as the "grandmother of the performance art". She was a pioneer of a new notion of identity, bringing participants, focusing on "facing pain, blood and the physical limits of the body". She was graduated and post-graduated in Fine Arts, her performances were caused in the 70s. Like the performance, Rhythm 10, Marina places herself on top of a sheet of paper with 20 different knives and two cameras pointed at her, in this performance, Marina stabs herself with the 20 different knives.

In other performance, whose name is Rhythm 5, Abramovic sought to re-evoke the energy of extreme bodily pain, using a large petroleum-drenched star, which the artist lit on fire at the start of the performance. Standing outside the star, Abramovic cut her nails, toenails, and hair. When finished with each, she threw the clippings into the flames. Burning the communist five-pointed star represented a physical and mental purification, while also addressing the political traditions of her past. In the final act of purification, Abramovic leapt across the flames, propelling herself into the center of the large star. Due to the light and smoke given off by the fire, the observing audience did not realize that, once inside the star, the artist had lost consciousness from lack of oxygen. Later, Abramovic commented upon this experience said:  

“ I was very angry because I understood there is a physical limit. When you lose consciousness you can't be present, you can't perform.”

In the Rhythm 2 performance, Marina prompted by her loss of consciousness during Rhythm 5, Abramovic devised the two-part Rhythm 2 to incorporate a state of unconsciousness in a performance. She performed the work at the Gallery of Contemporary Art in Zagreb, in 1974. In first part, which had a duration of 50 minutes, she ingested a medication she describes as given to patients who suffer from catatonia, to force them to change the positions of their bodies.The medication caused her muscles to contract violently, and she lost complete control over her body while remaining aware of what was going on. After a ten-minute break, she took a second medication given to schizophrenic patients with violent behavior disorders to calm them down. The performance ended after five hours when the medication wore off.

As much as I have to say that most of Marina Abramovic's works captivated me or left me a little scared and curious, I have to say that, the performance that most interested me in terms of meaning and in an accomplished way was the performance “Rhythm 0” . In this performance Marina Abramovic, gathered the audience in a room around a table full of objects. Some of these items were innocent, for example, a comb, or a lipstick, a rose and also a feather, but Marina decided to test the public’s mind and how far they would be able to go, so she left other objects that were more evil, such as chains, nails, a safety pin, a kitchen knife, a box of razor blades, a whip and even a gun loaded with a bullet. Beside them, Marina Abromovic placed a set of instructions saying that during the performance she was responsible for everything that can happen, simple as:  

“Performance: I am an object. Duration: 6 hours (8 am to 2 pm). During this period, I take full responsibility ”.  

What happened during those six hours proved to be a turning point in the history of performance art. Because this kind of the performance came after World War II, when artists started using bodies as their means of transmitting art. Sometimes, the results were capricious, such as that of the artist Yves Klein who painted a group of women in blue and made them roll around on the floor, leaving marks on their bodies. Sometimes it was shocking as when Chris Burden's filmed his assistant while shooting him in the arm. But Marina Abramovic decided to change the game then with her performance in Naples, which she herself called "rhythm 0", so she decided to invert the roles, the artist became the spectator of her own performance while the real performer was nothing more than the public.

The evening started softly with people caressing her, other people offered the rose that she herself had left on the table, and others left a simple kiss on her face, in the form of respect and strength for the artist. But when the Neapolitan night started to heat up, the mood get more darkened. By the third hour, Marina clothes had already been cut with razor blades. In the fourth hour, people used the same blades to cut Marina's skin. One of the persons even cut the artist's throat to drink her blood. After much humiliation on the part of the audience, someone pointed the gun at her head, at that time the group of participants who helped Marina with the exhibition, noticed that the audience had already crossed the line, and they tried to stop the audience, however this event gave I start a conflict.

Marina explains in the interview that:

    "if you leave it to the public, they can kill you."  

This performance can also be compared with the performance of the Austrian feminist artist and icon VALIE EXPORT that became known between 1968 and 1971 in 10 different cities in Europe.

In this performance, the artist kept her bare chest inside an improvised mini-cinema box, persuading pedestrians to put their hands inside their improvised box and touch their breasts. This was the nature of her radical and provocative performance "Tap and Touch Cinema", an experimental screenless 'film' that confronts the social, political and sexual positioning of the female body, while breaking the boundaries between cinema and real life. And it is not only this work that challenges the viewer's mind, we have as an example another EXPORT performance, “Action Pants: Genital Panic”, in 1968, where she passed by a cinema audience in leather pants without a fork, with her genitals exposed.  

“I didn’t want to perform in a gallery or a museum, as they were too conservative for me, and would only give conventional responses to my experimental works. It was important for me to present my works to the public, in the public space, and not within an art-conservative space, but in the by then so-called underground ... When I was performing my actions in public, on the streets, in the urban space, new and different forms of reception developed. In the streets I provoked new explanations. I wanted to be provocative, to provoke, but also aggression was part of my intention. I wanted to provoke, because I sought to change the people’s way of seeing and thinking ... If I hadn’t been provocative, I couldn’t have made visible what I wanted to show. I had to penetrate things to bring them to the exterior.”

Like “ Action Pants: Genital Panic”, “Tap and Touch Cinema” destabilized ideas around the pleasure and sexual value of the female body, where the participant's reaction and interaction with her body took center stage. EXPORT explains to Interview magazine in 2012 that:

"Everyone can see the faces of visitors ... and how they visit with their hands." She also says that "My eyes and the visitors, both men and women, were incredibly powerful, extremely powerful and intense"

Recovering the female body and the terms by which it was seen and felt. This performance, “Tap and Touch Cinema”, inspired a series of equally controversial acts, such as "Mirror Box", by the Swiss artist Milo Moiré, who was recently accused of replicating EXPORT's innovative work. In light of her undeniable legacy and the supernatural emergence of virtual female bodies available for touch.

EXPORT was brazenly opposed to the oppressive and submissive images of women that characterized the visual culture of the 60s and 70s. As Marina Abramovic, VALIE EXPORT, invited the public to get involved with a “real” female body, instead of sensationalized images and romanticized that dominated the film, involving several senses while abandoning the vision, also making the audience become the performer and not the audience.

But like most artists, Marina, also did several performances accompanied, for 12 years. From 1976 to 1988  Marina was a lover and professional partner of the artist Ulay, where these two performed several works together.

Both Abramovic and Ulay made dozens of works of performance art. As Incison in 1978, this performance included Ulay naked running towards Marina Abramovic dressed, while this one was being pulled by an elastic rope. In the same year, Ulay and Marina created the AAA-AAA performance, in which the two yell at each other for 9 minutes.  

This couple of artists, also, decided to create a performance where they show at everyone, how their relationship is, by symbolized and this performance is called Relation in Time from 1977, in which they performed together through their braided hair while walking away from each other for 17 hours.

Unfortunately, this relationship of artists and this duo, did not last forever, the couple separated in 1988, through a performance entitled The Lovers. Each artist left from one of the opposite sides of the Great Wall of China, they walk towards each other until they find themselves in the middle of the wall where they say goodbye at the end with tears and hugs.

But this wasn’t the last meeting of Marina and Ulay, in 2010, Marina Abramovic held an exhibition at the MOMA, Museum of Modern Art in New York, where she occupied the six floors with a retrospective of the artist's career. It was there that Marina's most striking presentation took place. The work, entitled "the artist is present", was inspired by her belief that extending the duration of a performance beyond expectations serves to change our perception of time and promote a deeper development in the experience itself and with you at the same time.  

Sitting silently in a wooden chair and with a wooden table in front of an empty chair, she expected the audience that was watching her to sit in the chair opposite her while facing each other, sharing a simple moment of silence. For almost three months, for eight hours a day (700 hours in total). In this same performance, Ulay, her old companion of loving and professional life, decides to surprise her, sitting in the chair in front of Marina, who exchanged a touch of hands and shared, thus a moment of silence and many tears.  

[lemonsandstrawberries]

The Pitted Olive, part 7

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

universe: Drag Queen!AU (Tony Stark as a drag queen)

summary: Tony hosts a meeting for his drag queen friends and Steve hangs out with his mom, deciding to share some big news with her.

length: 4 850 words

disclaimer: this fic is written strictly for entertainment. I am not a specialist on drag and my whole knowledge comes from mainstream media. if there is something you will find incorrect or offensive in any way, there is always an option to contact me and politely voice your thoughts instead of flaming. thanks!

a/n: LONG TIME NO SEE, RIGHT? I admit, I got a bit lost with this series... also I wasn’t so sure if I liked the direction this story was heading, buuut then decided that this topic can’t be avoided and is a big part of every lgbt+ person’s life. also, I do enjoy a bit of drama. and there is no better month to be back with this series than pride month! hope you will enjoy this update!

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The Pitted Olive, part 7

(part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6)

Steve usually didn't need a lot of sleep. Five, six hours of rest were pretty standard for him and plenty to let him function through the whole day. Maybe it was that yesterday, he and Tony had decided to stay late at the Pitted Olive, prolonging their stay to see Tootsie's rock performance and Arrow's new juggling routine and he indulged more in the Long Island Ice tea than his body was used to, that the next morning it was exceptionally hard to get up from bed. He just wished to stay in, wrapped in warm covers and softness, and let his body decide when it wanted to wake up, instead of his always disciplined mind telling him that it was way past his usual sleep hours. He heard Tony woke up some time ago, but his boyfriend remained tactful and quiet and didn't want to disturb the blond, and moved swiftly and unnoticeable. Steve had moments of wakening up and nodding off, always feeling Tony's presence somewhere close, without being able to pinpoint exactly where he was, but it was enough to keep him calm and deep in sleep.

Until this one moment.

Steve was still wrapped in blissful sleep when he felt it. The dip of the bed, the thigh pressing against his leg, radiating characteristic heat. Someone looking at his face and leaning in, soft breathing hearable in the quiet surroundings. Steve thought that wakening up by a kiss was a quite good scenario, a scenario he would happily follow. It just wasn't this scenario.

One sharp tug and pinch at his eyebrow and Steve's eyes sprung open, his hands moving to cover his face and press to the hurt skin.

"Ow!"

"Got you, you little bastard."

"What the-" Steve focused his eyes and saw Tony looming over him, a satisfied smile spread over his boyfriend's lips. Steve continued to massage his brow, not understanding what just happened and why he was insulted as the first thing after wakening up. "Tony, what the fuck-"

"Show me," Tony demanded instead, pushing Steve's hands away and cupping his chin, eyes sharp and analyzing while he was looking at his face. "Oh, yeah, much better. That hair was driving me crazy. Although, you could use a little more plucking on the left side."

And then Steve saw it. In his free hand, Tony was holding tweezers, the torture device getting too close for Steve to feel comfortable.

"No!" Steve yelled out, grabbing at Tony's wrists and trying to pull his boyfriend to himself and trap under and Tony was successfully not letting him.

"But your eyebrows are uneven!"

"And?! Do you think I care?"

"I care! Just let me- just a bit- hold still!"

"No, it hurts!"

"Oh, don't be a baby!"

Steve opened his mouth to say something back when while during wrestling with Tony something caught his attention. He looked at his own hands and let go of Tony for closer inspection, brunet immediately taking the opportunity to launch another attack of the tweezers and Steve temporarily knocked him to the side, hearing a yelp of protest. He rolled on his stomach for further protection and examined his hands closer. The nails, usually clipped pretty short for comfort, were filed into a perfect oval shape, cuticles were pushed back and there was a light coat of sheen nail polish on each nail. His hands also felt a lot smoother, with no rough edges, just as if someone massaged a heck lot of hand cream into the skin.

"Did you give me a manicure while I was sleeping?" Steve asked, eyes glued to hands that didn't look anymore like the ones he remembered having.

"Uh, yeah. Hope you don't mind, I was bored," Tony said, flopping on his side and coming closer to look at his work. "Turned out great, right?" he asked, some proud note making its way into his voice.

It was a change for sure. Steve turned his hands and looked at the fronts and bottoms, quite liking what he was seeing. Who would have thought that hands could look so nice?

"Um, yeah."

"Glad you like it," Tony smiled, "I tried to give you a pedicure too, but you kept kicking me away whenever I touched your feet. As for someone who is such a heavy sleeper, you can get very squeamish when it comes to your feet."

Steve just laughed in an embarrassed way. Somethings were better left without an explanation.

"Hey, baby, hold still," Tony whispered, placing a hand under Steve's chin and turning his face to his. Steve saw tweezers getting closer and his skin immediately started to crawl.

"No!"

"I said hold still!"

"You hold still!"

Some kicking, some wrestling, and some mutual screaming later, Steve managed to press Tony down into the covers and trap him in, taking the torture tool out of his hands.

"AHA!" Steve called in triumph, holding the tweezers. "Let's see how you like it!" he said with an evil grin, leaning in and planning to make Tony taste his own medicine.

"Go ahead," Tony invited, smiling back. Steve intended to, but… The evil grin disappeared and was replaced by a more and more confused look as he was examining Tony's face. Eyebrows in a neat shape, no strand hairs. Smooth cheeks, the goatee trimmed to a perfect length. In a desperate, completely dirty move, Steve even looked for nose hair, but those were also properly taken care of.

"See?" Tony smiled wider, pointing at his face, and spreading his fingers. "Flawless," he said, making a clicking sound with his tongue.

Flawless indeed. Even Tony's skin looked smooth and plump, and maybe Steve should reconsider his statement on not letting Tony massage tsubaki oil into his face every evening, unlike Tony did.

Still...

"AH!" Tony yelled out when two hands shot under his arms and wriggled fingers into the, of course, smooth armpits, tickling viciously. "Stoop!" he managed to choke out before frantic laughter started to spill out. "You whihihiiill give mehehehee wrinklehehehes!"

Steve only smiled again, thinking that Tony's laugh lines were so fetching and that there was nothing wrong in making them a bit deeper.

***

"I need you out of the house."

"Huh?" Steve looked up from his bowl of sugar frosted cereal. They had such a lazy, long morning changing into afternoon, that none of them felt like preparing a proper breakfast, settling on Tony's secret stash and choosing something to go with the already lazy day. They even stayed in bed, getting crumbs all over the bedding. "You are kicking me out?"

Tony giggled, holding a cup with coffee in one hand, and blueberry pop tart in the other leisurely leaned against the bed frame. "Just temporarily. My girls are coming over and I think you will get bored."

"Girls?" Steve asked, spooning the soggy cereal into his mouth.

"Other drag queens. We have those meetups to discuss makeup, dress designs…" Tony's voice faltered as almost ending the sentence before he continued. "Current love affairs…"

Steve didn't answer at first, the edge of the bowl pressed to his lips as he slurped out the sweetened milk. When he looked at Tony, he had milk mustache on his upper lip and smiled teasingly. "Oh? So you will talk about me behind my back?"

"Only if you leave," Tony said, sounding humored by his young lover's playful behavior. "It is not fun to gossip about you while you are here."

"So, who is coming?" Steve asked, trying to keep his curiosity at minimum, and not be too noisy what exactly Tony would say about him.

"Girls from the Olive, so, Tootsie and Arrow, my friend from a different drag queen bar, Lady Mint -"

"Bucky is coming over?" Steve asked, putting the bowl aside. Somehow he couldn't picture his friend discussing material for dresses and lipstick colors.

"He is," Tony confirmed, finishing the pop tart and putting his empty mug aside, "but not for your lame bro time, but for my fabulous girls time."

Steve laughed at the word choice. "If it is that fabulous, maybe I will stay?"

"You are welcomed to, if you want to," Tony shrugged, "just a fair warning, we will probably put you into a dress and makeup-"

"I am out," Steve said without any hesitation, wriggling out of the covers and standing up.

"Ah, Steve, wait!"

"Hmm?"

"Uhhmm, before you go, could you help me with something?" Tony asked in a sultry voice, sitting up and smoothening hands over the covers in a slow, long move, until he was laying flat on his belly, legs crossed delicately in the ankles. Eyes having that helpless, pleading look that made Steve feel weak in the knees immediately. It was almost hypnotizing.

"Yeah, sure," Steve assured breathlessly, focusing back on his gorgeous boyfriend. Whatever it was, he would be happy to assist.

Tony smiled, slow and beautiful before he rolled to the edge of the bed and pulled out a shoe box from underneath. He took the lid off and Steve saw a pair of black pumps, made from shiny faux leather, on an extremely high and slim heel, in Tony's size. Steve's breath immediately quickened. He and Red Velvet made out a couple of times, but fooling around with Tony while he was wearing only parts of his female side's wardrobe, was a new level of excitement.

Tony took out one pump and ran his fingers over the shiny surface, and Steve saw the red sole of the boot. Then he took out the other one and held both of them in one hand.

"Can you break those in for me?" Tony asked sweetly, reaching the pumps in Steve's direction.

Steve froze, his brain registering the words, breaking them apart and putting together again. Break in. Black pumps. Him.

"What?!" Steve asked, and it came out harsher than he wished it did.

"Pleaaase?" Tony whined, putting his hands together in a pleading gesture, the pumps bumping into each other with a soft sound. "I need them for my nearest show and it will take ages before I break them in, with your shoe size it will just take a day-"

"Nu-uh. Your shoes, your problem," Steve said firmly, more than sure that he would break a leg minutes after putting the shoes one.

"Oh, come on! Please? Pleease? I promise to leave your eyebrows alone!"

"I said no, Tony!"

And chaos started anew.

***

Ultimately, Steve decided to stay, not because he wanted to be a part of the drag queens meeting, but because Tony batted his long eyelashes at him and asked for help with preparing some snacks, because he forgot to order catering and serving drag queens cheesy puffs and carbonated drinks Tony's pantry had plenty off, seemed just wrong. Steve made a quick round to the nearest grocery shop and came back hauling bags with fresh veggies and rice paper for spring rolls and veggie platters, and followed the very specific instructions Tony had given him what kind of cheeses and fruits to buy for a more decadent cheese board. In the meantime, Tony gave his living space a quick clean, all the time wearing the black pumps, which was very, very distractive for Steve, who had almost cut his finger off while he was dicing the cheese into bite-sized pieces. So, they decided to switch. Literally.

Time was passing, and soon the first guests started to show up.

"Honey?!" Tony called from the kitchen table, arranging the fresh veggies around the homemade dips, when the doorbell rang, "can you get that?"

Steve grunted, closing the door to the closet, just in time finishing the vacuuming. "Really, Tony?" he called back, his feet tired enough as it was.

"Please? You are closer to the door," Tony reasoned and while it was true, Steve grunted again, knowing that his boyfriend just wanted to torment him more. Dragging one foot at a time and walking in slow, wobbly steps, Steve had made it to the door, just in time as the person on the other side started to rattle on the doorknob impatiently.

"Coming, coming!" Steve opened the door, seeing Bucky, holding a bottle of sparkling wine and six pack of beer.

"Hey, Steve!" Bucky grinned at his friend, tilting his head up and creasing his eyebrows. "Huh, I thought you were smaller."

"Who is that?"

"It is Buck!" Steve called, motioning for Bucky to come in and taking steps back, the clicking sound drawing Bucky's attention to his feet.

"What-" Bucky burst into laughter, seeing Steve's feet squeezed into two sizes too small pumps.

"Ah, my daughter!" Tony called playfully, coming out of the kitchen and joining them. "Air kisses!" he said and him and still laughing Bucky leaned closer to each other, smooching the air around their cheeks with an exaggerated 'muah' sounds. "I think you can take them off now, Steve," Tony said, turning to his boyfriend.

"Finally!" Steve breathed out, happily kicking off the pumps, his face saying pure relief. Tony slid his feet into the shoes and did a short test walk, before smiling wide.

"Perfect. Thanks, honey!"

"Beer?" still chuckling Bucky offered to Steve, holding the six pack and encouraging Steve to take a one. "You seem like you need a one, pal."

Steve couldn't agree more.

***

The place was getting crowded and more lively, as more drag queens started to appear. Tony's friend showed up next, boy name Bruce, drag queen name Lady Mint, who worked downtown and was a type of drag queen Tony referred to as a comedy queen, meaning exaggerated makeup and a witty, observant sense of humor. Bruce as a person seemed like a nice guy, a bit distant and in his own world, but Steve could picture that drag brought out a new side in him. Arrow showed fashionably late, carrying a stack of fashion magazines and fabric samples, the most invested into the costume design world of all queens.

It was loud and joyful and Steve was having fun.

"So, let me put it straight," Steve started sipping his beer when the party started for good.

"Ha! Straight!" Arrow hollered, swirling prosecco in her tall glass. "Your boyfriend is so cute, Red."

"I know," Tony beamed proudly and Steve continued.

"You are the multitalented one," he pointed out to Arrow, meaning her talent for designing clothes and nearly circus acts on stage, and Arrow held her chin proudly, "you are the funny one," he turned to Lady Mint, "and you are the pretty one," Steve ended on Red and then turned to Tootsie. "And that makes you-?"

"The alcoholic one!" Tootsie exclaimed, holding her beer can high, the rest of her sisters joining in a cheer.

"And Mint is not only the funny one, but she also has Ph.D. in nuclear physics and biochemistry," Red said and Steve whistled quietly, because, well that was impressive.

Mint smiled gratefully at her sister, and Steve had to add that she was also the modest of the group. "Red is also an academic."

"Oh, please," Red waved her hand dismissively, "I just have some doctorates, but I still chose to spend my days fixing the world's most respected car brands," she said, trying to brush it off as it was nothing, but there was some smug note in her voice she didn't try to hide.

"And I can burp out the alphabet," Tootsie bragged and Steve laughed together with everyone and heard Lady Mint turning to Tootsie and asking if she ever thought about doing a comedy routine.

Steve felt really good and maybe he would extend his stay, but then the hour for him to leave came.

"Hey, I will be going," Steve said, taking Red by the elbow and interrupting the discussion over a fashion magazine and material samples about if Red could pull off a dress with an open leg or not.

"Huh? Why?" Red asked, genuinely surprised. She thought Steve was enjoying himself. "Are you still worried we will put you in drag? Don't worry, we won't-"

"We won't?" Arrow asked, lifting her head up from the magazine, sounding disappointed.

"No amount of makeup will help that face," Tootsie grumbled out, teasing her friend, and Lady Mint snorted so hard, the prosecco came out through her nose and more laughter followed.

"Add that to your act, Minty!"

Someone called but Steve and Red already walked away from the chaos, Red watching Steve taking his jacket.

"You are welcomed to stay," Red said, sounding minimally hurt.

"I know, and I would love to," Steve replied, pulling his shoes on and smooching Velvet's forehead. "I just made plans earlier. Promised my mom to drop in for dinner, didn't see her in a while."

"Oh," Red blinked in surprise. That was a sweet surprise. "Uh, then say hello to Sarah from me," she smiled, her voice sounding a little odd as if hiding something, but Steve didn't notice.

"I will. Will see you tomorrow, okay?" Steve said, leaning in for a proper kiss. "Bye gu- girls!" he called in general direction of the gathering, hearing a collective bye in return.

"Bye," Red said with a soft smile, closing the door behind her boyfriend. She waited a bit at the door, in case if Steve would forget something, but he didn't come back. Before chaos could start again, Red turned to her sisters and daughter with a serious face and a burning question. "Okay, ladies, real talk time!" she called, clapping in her hands for attention and waited for all to focus on her. "What do you think of Steve?"

"Oh, he is gorg!"

"Seems like a decent guy."

"You can do better than that punk!"

Red just smiled and sipped her sparkling wine, hearing the collective thought exchange about her boyfriend. Except for Bucky's half-hearted remarks, everything was positive.

"It isn't important what we think, though," Arrow said, flipping a page in the magazine, "what is important is what you think. So?"

Everyone turned to her, waiting for the moment of truth. Red looked down, thinking about the last months with Steve. Steve was kind and honest and sweet. He had some hidden heat in himself and a lot of passion. But most importantly, he seemed to love both sides of him, equally fascinated by Red Velvet as by Tony Stark. Tony felt safe and loved and pampered, but Steve also wasn't afraid to give him a piece of his mind when needed. It was very rare to find a person like that.

"I like him," Red finally said, "a lot. I think I really like him."

Arrow hummed in agreement, Lady Mint smiled, glad for her sister finding happiness, and it was again Tootsie who had to spoil it all.

"Please don't tell me that my best friend will become my new dad, I won't handle it."

And just like that it became loud and cheerful again, and Red was outvoted on if she would look good in an open leg dress, but she could definitely wear a body tight dress with a slit in the back going all the way down because her bubble butt was one of her greatest features.

***

"Hey, ma!"

"Stevie!" Sarah brightened as soon as Steve walked into his childhood home. She went to greet her son, her voice becoming stern suddenly. "Did you wipe your shoes on the doormat?"

"Yes, ma'am," Steve nodded with a grin. Somethings don't change, no matter how old you get.

"That's my boy," Sarah praised and Steve leaned his head for a hello kiss on his cheek. "Go wash your hands before dinner."

"You need any help, ma?" Steve called after Sarah and took his shoes off, as the woman already moved back into the kitchen.

"No, just hurry up, before soup gets cold!"

Steve smiled to himself. Really, some things never change.

While Sarah was putting finishing touches on the mashed potatoes, Steve slowly finished a plate of tomato soup with noodles. His mom remembered that he wasn't a fan of the acidity in tomatoes and added a generous splash of sweet cream, making it smoother for the palate. With time, Steve's taste changed and he was better at handling more sour flavors, but still, the gesture was sweet and the soup tasted like his childhood. They didn't talk much, but the silence around them was so comforting and Steve just soaked in the serene atmosphere, feeling like a kid again.

"Ready. Eat up," Sarah smiled, putting in front of Steve a plate with a huge scoop of mashed potatoes and a generous portion of beef tips, all smothered with dark and shiny sauce. Delicious, homemade food.

"Thanks, ma," Steve smiled, taking his fork and watching his mom reaching her hand for his empty soup plate. "Please, ma. Leave it, I will clean later. Sit with me for a while."

Sarah seemed surprised, but smiled in the end, accepting the invitation. "I will just get us something to drink," she said, and Steve huffed a bit, wishing for his mom to finally sit down with him and rest. He kept his eyes fixed on his mom as she brewed tea for herself and poured a tall glass of lemonade for him, and Steve saw that there was something different about his mom, but he couldn't exactly point what. Chewing slowly on his food and savoring the taste, Steve kept thinking about what could have changed. His mom was always a beautiful woman, but she valued hard work over looks and as a nurse spent most of her days caring for others than for herself. Hair always tied in a low ponytail, almost no makeup, maybe for some people it was bland and boring, for Steve it was modest and natural. And now… Sarah's complexion seemed glowing, her pale skin having a healthy shine, hair seeming somehow thicker and brighter. When Sarah finally sat down across her son and smiled at him, Steve noticed that she was wearing mascara and had subtly contoured eyebrows, which gave definition to her whole face.

"Hey, ma," Steve said, taking a piece of the tender beef and mushroom on his fork and into his mouth. "You look different."

"What do you mean, dear?" Sarah asked, taking a sip of her tea. That drew Steve's attention to her hands which also changed, not calloused anymore after long hours from working, but smooth and soft, nails in neat, oval shape and coated with sheen nail polish. Just like Steve's were.

"I don't know," Steve said mysteriously, "but you look nice. Is there a reason you got all dolled up?" he asked playfully.

Sarah laughed embarrassedly, something Steve inherited from her. "So, you noticed, huh?" she asked back, looking down at her knees with a small smile. "I am just trying something new."

Steve nodded, silently chewing on the piece of meat. Since his dad died, years ago, he saw his mom closing in, struggling to find a place for herself. If a bit of makeup was what she needed to feel better, Steve supported that wholeheartedly.

"It is all thanks to your friend."

"Mhuh?" Steve said with a mouthful of potatoes, almost dropping his fork. "Dohny?"

"Dear, please," Sarah said in a petulant voice and Steve swallowed his food properly, before speaking again.

"Ma, did you mean Tony?" he asked, wiping his mouth with his sleeve which earned him another stern look.

"Yes, Tony," Sarah confirmed, meaningfully sliding a napkin closer to her son. "I bumped into him some time ago, and I asked him some more about skincare because the facial mask he recommended worked so well. Since then we stay in touch," she said and Steve could only listen and force his mouth to stay shut. He didn't know that Tony kept in touch with his mom. "It was his idea for me to start applying some makeup again and he recommended me a really good beautician and manicurist. My friends started to notice the change too, they say I look ten years younger," she laughed warmly.

"You always looked young, ma," Steve quickly cut in, meaning every word.

"That's sweet of you. Are you ready for dessert? Made your favorite," Sarah smiled, standing up and heading to the counter.

Steve bit his lower lip. Why Tony didn't tell him about being in touch with his mom? Was it because of the last time and the freakout he had when his mom saw him and Tony together, and Steve started to panic that she might suspect something? Seemed so… And Steve felt really bad, that he was ready to kiss Tony in front of strangers and basketball teams, but felt too guilty to hold his boyfriend's hand in front of his own mother. And Sarah seemed to get along well with Tony… And…

"Tadaaah!" Sarah exclaimed playfully, putting in front of Steve a perfect slice of a perfect apple pie. "Hope you still like it."

Steve loved it. But somethings he loved more. Someone.

"Ma… Please, sit down."

Sarah looked alarmed at the sudden change of tone and the serious look on her boy's face.

"I need to tell you something," Steve continued, trying to keep the trembling out of his voice. Now or never.

Sarah sat down, her face clouding with worry.

The apple pie had to wait.

***

It was late evening when Tony had just finished putting the leftover veggies into the fridge and straightened up, stretching his spine out. He could call the drag queens meeting a success, but he also felt so tired. He smiled when he saw a torn out page from the fashion magazine stuck to his fridge with a magnet, a ruby red maxi dress with an open back presented on a model and Arrow's print next to it.

'Think about it! Just lower!'

Tony chuckled, looking at the design. He would never walk out on the stage in a dress that showed his ass crack. Showing to Steve like that in the privacy of his home, was a totally different story… He took the page with himself and went to the bedroom, thinking that maybe he would try some new facial mask and take an extra long bath. He just finished changing into his tiny bathrobe, when he noticed his phone vibrating on the nightstand and Steve's photo flashing on the screen. Tony accepted the call, already smiling to the thought that Steve was so sweet and called him just to wish him a good night.

"Hi, honey! Did you miss me already?" Tony asked in a flirty tone, waiting for a reply that didn't come. "Uh… hello? Steve?" Tony tried again. There was some uneven breath on the other side, and before Tony could panic, Steve finally spoke in a hollow voice.

"I told my mom."

"Told your mom wha-" Tony's voice got stuck when he realized what Steve meant. Sarah was a sweet lady, but hearing that your child was gay was probably never easy, even for the most loving parents. Tony really feared what he might hear next. "Oh, sweetheart…" he started in a voice so compassionate, the only answer he heard was a chocked out sob, Steve tried to hold in. "What happened?" Tony asked, not hearing the answer, just the sound of a car zooming past. "Wait… Steve, where are you?"

More silence. Tony could almost feel how tormented Steve was.

"Steve. Where the hell are you?" Tony asked, growing more and more worried. He heard enough of heartbreaking coming out stories and he would never live it down if Steve would become one of them.

"I am in front of your building."

"What-" Tony immediately got up from bed, running to the window, hoping to see his boyfriend. It turned dark already and he didn't see much. "I am coming for you, stay where you are."

"Tony-"

"Stay where you are," Tony ordered, ending the connection. He didn't care to change and only wrapped a coat around himself and slipped bare feet into a pair of sneakers, not wanting to waste any time. He grabbed his keys and his phone, just in case, and ran down the stairs, ignoring the elevator and finding it too slow in such an urgent situation.

"Steve!" Tony busted out of the building, running into the street and looking around the sidewalk, searching and hoping. He saw Steve where he said he was, just on the other side of the street. No wonder Tony didn't spot him at first. Tony crossed the street and stopped in front of his boyfriend and the sight was breaking his heart. Who knew for how long Steve had been standing like that. His cheeks were flushed from cold, eyes glossy and tired, and he still kept his phone pressed to his ear, listening to the silence.

"Honey… Come on, let's go. Please," Tony reached his hand for Steve's cold one, and gently tugged him over and together, step by step, they walked back into the building and back to Tony's apartment.

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<– previous part ….. next part —> 

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Bruce’s drag name was created by a dear friend of mine @steve-sketchbooks. thanks for your love for this story!

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tag list

(if you want to be tagged for updates in this series, send me an ask and I will add your username below)

@destiel-is-classic, @prithvik , @azurixx ,  @mangakats, @mystey-writes,@w1nters-stark, gloriousmarvellokiturtle, @the-pop-culture-geek

[chubbyooo]

Blurred Lines Chapter 31 - Armande

writing mood has taken me so here we go with another chapter. I’ve been super excited to write this one for a while (warning strong language)

Ash wakes up after their sudden slumber

Ash could hear a faint murmuring as she awoke, she kept her eyes closed making sure not to arouse suspicion. When unsure of her situation it was best to be cautious, what had just happened? they were talking to Amy then she... oh yeah she drugged their drinks. She was furious she’d let her guard down around her this never normally happened, the murmuring got louder as Ash got her bearings, the accent sounded clipped and noble with a similar twinge to the noble they met on Nar Shaddaa. Damn it Ash knew they wouldn’t give up that easily, why was she always right to be paranoid.

As Ash opened her eyes just a slit she could see he was talking into a holocommunicator he seemed gaunt and hunched with messy grey hair covering his head and chin. “yes your highness we have them captured and the information shall come shortly” The man on the holo seemed to be sitting in some sort of throne Ash could only guess this was the current ruler of what was it Dubrillion? He was bald with a stern frown, wearing some form of ridiculous robes, that’s all she could make out from her view.

As he responded Ash could hear his grating voice pierce the chamber like a knife “very good Armande once your done send them here” with that the imposing figure’s holo dissipated and ‘Armande’ began talking to the guards. Ash began to assess the room it looked unlike any interrogation chamber she’d ever been in, a bed a closet this almost looked like... oh they were still at the hotel. These guys were clearly amateurs Ash had counted 4 guards total none of which carried electro shock sticks, if she wasn’t stuck to this chair they would all already be on the floor. It felt like zip ties holding her to the chair but they were definitely breakable, just noticeable she needed to be subtle. She saw Gacen slumped next to her seemingly still asleep which was probably for the best he would make a scene when he woke she had to assess their chances of escape. She saw three possible exits, the obvious door but that seemed like more trouble than it’s worth with more guards probably outside, the window which Ash didn’t want to repeat because they got extremely lucky last time and third was a vent she could see leading into the room seemed covert and possible. But none of that mattered if she couldn’t get past these five, they still seemingly hadn’t noticed she was awake so she still had a chance. Armande seemed to be preparing some interrogation tools, all pretty basic stuff tweezers to pull out nails, small drills and a number of liquid syringes she’d have to watch out for those. She looked to Gacen who was still sound asleep she would have to take her chance soon. 

The guard to the right of her seemed unenthused and bored seems he’d be the easiest to take advantage of she just had to get out of the zip ties. She slowly turned her hands forward tensing them into fists, then a quick turn back and relaxing of her muscles and her thumbs were out. Ash shook them off honestly using zip ties was embarrassing it wasn’t that hard to get handcuffs, she kept her hands behind the chair as she looked to the guard next to her. He held a knife in his side pocket perfect, quickly she went to grab it then proceeding to stab it into his leg. He screamed out in pain alerting the rest of the room, three guards two left one right but she knew who she needed to go for. The guards on the right would go for their blasters aiming them at her the one on the right would try to grab her. She ducked immediately avoiding the volley of fire from the guards then slid under the left guard sweeping his legs as she went, she stood up quickly ready to assess her next move. Armande stood in the corner surprisingly unfazed by the commotion, the guard next to her would get up try to stop her and the other two would continue firing. Easy way to solve that she grabbed the guard lifting him up and throwing him in the firing line of the other two guards, she had to tense as she did it but nonetheless his body flew in the way of the blaster fire and knocked the guards to the ground. She proceeded to grab Armande putting the knife to his throat. He would try to wriggle free but Ash held him in a grip where that wasn’t possible too easy

Armande seemed to chuckle to himself “he he well my dear that was very impressive what amazing anticipation” he seemed strangely calm for someone who had lost which was never a good sign. 

Ash could smell a musk coming from the man which was fairly off-putting “you move you’re dead” Ash unfortunately didn’t mean it but only because they could get information from him, they could still maim him though.

“oh yes of course but I think you’ve put yourself in a bit of a bad situation” she completely had the upper hand this guy was full of it “because you seem the best at anticipating but you can’t let go of me to stop this” As he said that she realised he was going to stab something into her leg but she would have to let him go to stop him. Before she could decide she felt the sharp prick in her upper thigh, instinctively she sliced with the knife but as she started she began to feel very woozy and gave up as she stumbled away for Armande. The room began to spin she could see people shifting from their positions very weirdly, she turned back to Armande who seemed to be covering his throat hah she had got him. She turned to see the guards coming towards her let’s see there was 3 wait no 5 wait no 4 wait, she felt herself grabbed by the guards and she was suddenly back in her seat, what the fuck she should’ve anticipated that. Wait she got stabbed with something was she drugged? she didn’t feel drugged? just kinda woozy, Armande came over still holding his throat. “well that was a regrettable decision now wasn’t it Ash” Armande spoke rather raspy all of a sudden that cut must’ve got him. Ash spat in his face causing him to flinch back

Ash was confused she totally got him “how are you even alive I just sliced your throat like so bad” that wasn’t what she meant to say that was weird

Armande laughed as he wiped the spit from his face “My dear that was an hour ago the drugs have kicked in” she waass drugged she totally knew it. Ash snorted to herself giggling loudly “am I missing something my dear?”were was that coming from she never giggled

what an idiot “this is by far the worst truth serum I have ever had I’m gonna be too loco to answer you, stupid moron” it was true this truth serum sucked

Armande raised his eyebrow “well good news it’s not truth serum I knew your skills and knew my guys wouldn’t be able to stop you so I inhibited your ability” aw that was so not cool she was gonna beat this guy into the ground

“so what you’re saying is that you’re a big baby coward pants” Ash giggled to herself, woah hold on why was his face all swirly no wait the room was swirly no wait she was swirly maybe they all were swirly.

Armande let out a long sigh as Ash began to stare into space “wake the other one up he’s the one we’re after” this prick just because his eyes were like bigger than hers he thinks he’s hot shit

Ash turned to see Gacen being jostled awake “ugh wha where am I” he looked around the room and spotted Ash looking at him quizzically

Ash waved “ good morning sleepy head we’ve totally been captured by this lizard” Ash gestured to the lizard where Armande was sitting, Gacen frowned at her looking ever so confused

Gacen looked deep in thought for a second “well still not the weirdest place I’ve woken up in the last week” had Gacen always had that many horns? had Gacen even had horns to begin with? oh my god Gacen was being attacked by horns!!! wait no he’d always had horns “who’s this smelly prick” he gestured to the lizard man in front of them

“oh that’s Armande captain of the cowardice ship he turned into a lizard a fe...” she looked at him that’s not a lizard that’s a human “never mind he’s back”

Gacen turned to Armande “ok I know you guys are the bad guys but what the fuck is up with Ash” Armande let out a very long sigh

“we drugged her to stop her from attacking us” he grimaced as Gacen began laughing to himself 

“that actually makes a lot of sense” Gacen seemed like he didn’t have a plan

Ash leant over to Gacen and shouted “hey have you got a plan to get out of here I totally got the guards covered” Gacen turned to her giving her a long stern look

“I dunno Ash but maybe don’t shout it in front of the enemy” oh yeah Ash nodded in agreement winking

Armande interrupted them before they could say any more “ENOUGH look tell us what you know about Risha Drayen” Gacen nodded taking in a long sigh

“ok I’ll tell you just get in really close” no Gacen we were doing so well

“Gacen no don’t tell them” Ash pleaded he was gonna give it all up but Gacen put his hand up 

Armande sighed and leant in Gacen grinned as he said “nothing” Ash let out a series of giggles as Armande’s face dropped into a grimace.

Armande got up “ok hit him” he began striding around the bed as a resounding whack hit Gacen square in the jaw. Gacen just smiled it off but Ash could feel a boiling rage build up inside her she would totally crack their skulls if moving wasn’t so hard right now. 

A few loud punches later and Gacen’s face was full of bruises he spat blood onto the floor breathing heavily. Armande returned with some assorted tools “are we ready to talk now Captain” he held a blade of some kind

Gacen laughed “nah mate you can punch me as many times as you want that’s pretty much what I feel on a daily basis” Ash took a look at the tools on the desk seemed like your average setup bonesaw, drills more syringes wait she felt like she knew that already.

Ash chuckled to herself “yeah trust me it took me years to get him to open up you’d have better chances with the drugs” oops that may have been bad to say, Gacen turned to her slowly with wide eyes “Um never mind disregard that I’m drugged” Armande smiled picking up the syringe and jamming it into Gacen’s neck 

Gacen’s pupils dilated instantly “ahhhhh woah Ash you weren’t kidding this stuff is bananas B A N A N A S” Gacen cracked up at his own joke and began laughing to himself

Ash joined in as Armande tried to speak over them “Ok I’ll ask again what do you know about Risha Drayen” Gacen began grinning, Ash thought she spotted an Ortolan in the corner and needed to find it

“She’s pretty awesome in bed Mr flying spaghetti oh also also also she’s really pretty” where was this spaghetti she couldn’t see it. 

Armande gritted his teeth “fine let’s be more specific where is Risha Drayen” Ash snorted to herself

“your mothers butt!!!” Ash shouted out, Gacen quickly began dying of laughter as Ash followed suit 

After he stopped laughing Gacen leant close in “nah but for real I dunno that’s what we’re finding out dumbass, it’s been like a day give my lady a little more credit.” Armande looked like all his anger was about to come out as Gacen made a kissy face at him

“you are very lucky I’ve been ordered to keep you alive, but I still need to know what your relation was to Risha, we are unclear on your previous statement on Nar Shaddaa” Gacen leant back and took a long sigh, that did seem pretty unavoidable phrasing, stupid truthy druggy serum.

“ugh fine I was her husband and her business partner, you know where it says the voidhound was Skavak well that’s a load of bs to throw you cucks off I don’t know who changed it but hey it got me off the hook from you guys for years” Gacen looked at the floor pursing his lips “is that enough can we go now”

Armande began to chuckle to himself “oh no I’m afraid King Actavarus III asked for you personally so don’t think we’re letting your little conquest continue” Gacen’s anger was visible now which was pretty rare for him, he tensed up snarling at Armande

“oh that giant pompus cunt wants to see me well we’ll see about that” He began to try and wriggle out of zip-ties but after about 30 seconds gave up panting “damn it Ash how do you do this? you make it looks so easy” 

Ash had been completely somewhere else and when she snapped back she tried to stand up again. Summing up all her effort she stood up and looked ready to fight, as she did she saw a little canister enter the room from the vent and suddenly a searing white light filled the chamber causing her to reel back in pain. She could hear some muffled noises around her and when the white light cleared she could see all of the guards and Armande unconscious on the floor and a familiar zabrak form standing there.

Amy threw a gun in her direction “sorry I took so long they were really clingy with the money” Ash went to catch the gun but missed it fumbling as it fell onto the floor

Ash frowned at Amy as she began to untie Gacen “but you totally betrayed us why would you help us” Gacen was still swaying lightly clearly rattled from the beating, the drugs and the white light.

Amy finished untying Gacen who slumped to the floor “I was always gonna save you I just wanted a bit of money in the process” Ash frowned that seemed kinda unnecessary and still selfish if a bit less “is Gacen ok?”

Gacen grumbled on the floor “yeah he’s just been beaten up and drugged” Ash went to pick him up and even while still drugged it was an easy task

Amy sighed deeply “are you both drugged” Ash nodded wide eyed 

Gacen lifted his arm up “I knew you’d come and saaaave us Amy I always had faith” he slumped back over Ash’s shoulder as he finished speaking

Ash didn’t believe that for a second “you did not” Gacen struggled limply as Ash began moving him towards the door

“I did so she’s always been loyal, anyway you’re the one with a crush on her” Ash felt her skin flush going a deep shade of purple 

“i do not Gacen” Ash looked back to Amy who was checking a holopad “shut up she might’ve heard you” Gacen chuckled to himself as he gave in and let Ash carry him

Amy looked at them agitated “Guys we gotta get out of here it’s gonna be crawling with guards soon enough” Ash nodded as they left the hotel room, in the corridor things were conveniently quiet so they easily made their way to an elevator. 

As they arrived in the elevator Ash stumbled nearly dropping Gacen “ok buddy you hold yourself up my arm is tired” she awkwardly laid Gacen down on the floor

Gacen lay there not moving “fine I guess I’ll just walk myself I’m fine now see look at what I can do” Gacen continued to lie still while his eyes darted around

Amy frowned at him “what are you doing” she had been loading some form of gadget on her arm with canisters Ash wondered if she had a air gun

Gacen’s eyes widened “crazy backflips and frontflips can’t you see them” Gacen continued to lie flat

“no we can’t” Amy let out an exasperated sigh, Ash had gotten distracted by the view from the elevator she could see the whole planet it was so shiny “damn it looks like they already got guards out looking for you we’re gonna have to hide you guys”

Gacen giggled “we’re great at hiding no problems Amamamamy” Gacen sat up looking out the window “ooooo we can go to the pool” Ash liked the sound of that idea

Amy didn’t seem to however “ok no there is no quicker way to get found out than hanging out at the pool in normal clothes, go hang out at the Pazaak tables you’ll fit in there” Gacen beamed at the idea and began to get out a credit chip “BUT do not play” Amy said with an exasperated sigh.

The elevator arrived and they headed to the Pazaak tables it smelled weird here Ash thought it might be a mix of like alcohol and oil? maybe, woah why were they on the ceiling, wait no the floor was on the ceiling.

Amy grabbed both their wrists “ok stay here lay low I’ll be back once it’s safe” Gacen nodded not looking away from the Pazaak table

Ash was already bored “fiiiine mom I’ll stay at the gambling tables” she didn’t know how families worked, Amy gave her a disapproving frown and ran off

Ash turned to the game maybe it could be interesting, she could see all sorts of aliens quickly placing cards with little numbers on them but some were red and blue or green? Ash leant in to Gacen’s shoulder “Gacen I don’t understand what’s going on?” 

Gacen jumped seemingly surprised she was there “how long have you been there?” Ash shrugged she wasn’t actually very sure how long. Gacen nodded and began to explain “well Pazaak is a simple game really you need to get 21 and the dealer deals cards with numbers on them, then you choose to fold or stay in you can go ov...” Ash stopped listening she had seen a sign that said ‘observation deck’ and it sounded cool she’d always loved seeing planets close up all those people down there doing things while she could see them all well sort of they were there but so small in her vision but they were there. “and that is why minus cards rock and plus cards are stupid?” Ash suddenly snapped back to the conversation what was he talking about

“oh yeah sure totally pluses suck” that wasn’t convincing at all 

Gacen frowned “you weren’t even listening were you” Ash reluctantly nodded

Ash quickly forgot about the pazaak grabbed his arm “hey look there’s an observation deck wanna see the planet” she smiled at him as he considered the idea

“I feel like we’re supposed to be here but I don’t remember why” he paused “sure lets go” they rushed over to a lift and within a minute they entered a private viewing booth

Ash looked up seeing the planet in all it’s glory, the whispy clouds covering the sparkling blue oceans and lush green grasslands so pretty and very hypnotic. She felt herself getting very dizzy and suddenly realised she was lying on the floor, she looked up and saw Gacen also lying down, they both started laughing “I think the drugs are still in our systems” 

Gacen sat up leaning against a sofa “ok let’s test tell me something you wouldn’t tell me normally” Ash squinted for a second trying to think of something

her eyes widened as she thought of something “oh I’ve got it Ash isn’t my real name” she had never told anyone that not that it was very important

Gacen looked super taken aback “what do you mean?” Ash also sat up opposite him “are you a spy?”

“no dummy, my full name is Ash’shen’tor right and my equivalent of a first name is in the middle bit so Shen, Ash is my family name” Gacen looked off dizzily for a second

“what?” Gacen looked entirely confused, Ash began giggling to herself

“it’s like my family name like yours is Zandar but when I was abandoned people didn’t know that so they called me Ash” Gacen leaned back comprehending what he just heard

“huh, should I call you Shen then” Ash burst out laughing not sure why it was so funny

“no please I like Ash fine, anyway you tell me something you wouldn’t normally tell me it’s only fair” she never cared for chiss customs anyway

Gacen rubbed his chin for a second “ok sure” he paused “I have a sister that I am estranged from” Ash’s eyes widened she had a hunch it was something like that but was never sure

Gacen seemed pretty serious she shouldn’t press it “oh wow I can’t even imagine there being two of you” they both snorted with laughter

“hey how dare you two of me would be wonderful” he paused lowering his smile “she’s uh not that much like me anyway” Ash nodded 

“I think one of you is enough for me, even that is excessive” Ash joked as Gacen’s smile returned as he began to laugh quietly

Suddenly the elevator opened and Ash could see the form of Amy stride into the room “ok what the fuck did you think I meant when I said stay put” Ash and Gacen both laughed, Ash slipped back onto the floor

Gacen perked up wobbling as he stood up “hey that’s what you get for trying to make money out of me Ames” Amy gave him a reluctant nod and they headed out...

[buffaliengirlfriend]

I Have Loved The Stars Too Fondly To Be Fearful Of The Night

"Bruce didn’t trust Kory. Dick knew this.

But this? This is a new level of absolute distrust, of not just worrying about but believing that someone close to you will betray you."

Kory finds something in the Batcave that Dick would've preferred she not have.

(also posted on ao3!) 

“Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.” - Sarah Williams

Bruce didn’t trust Kory. Dick knew this.

Dick was pretty sure Bruce could count the amount of people he trusted on one hand. He had spent a lifetime building walls all around himself until only a select few could get in and out. He was Batman. Trust wasn’t in his vocabulary. He was darkness, the night, and all those other things he said in that ominous tone of his.

But this? This is a new level of absolute distrust, of not just worrying about but believing that someone close to you will betray you.

The look in Kory’s eyes when she held the shackles in one hand and a thick manilla folder in the other had nearly broken his heart. It was the distraught, hopeless look she got those few times when she opened up about her past: brutal training, enslavement, arranged marriage, experimentations. Getting her to open up to him was less like a flower softly blooming and more like a geode being split in two to reveal the crystals inside.

They were in the research room in the Batcave, a place that Dick had to fight tooth and nail to get Kory access to. And now, Dick was somewhat regretting that decision. She had gone to find a file on some villain they were tracking down, but came back with this one instead. Her hands were shaking when she said, in an oddly calm tone, “What is this?”  

Dick knew exactly what it was. Bruce kept a file on all threats, past, present, and future, in order to always have a plan of attack. But, god, Dick had no idea Bruce kept one on his girlfriend .

He wanted to tell her that it had nothing to do with her, but the evidence was damning. The folder was labeled “Koriand’r / Starfire”, written in Bruce’s neat handwriting, and contained not only photos of her but detailed outlines of her powers and weaknesses. Say what you will about Bruce, but he does his research.  

Alien warrior princess from the planet Tamaran in the Vega system. An ally, but potentially extremely dangerous should she turn dark.

Do not engage in direct hand-to-hand combat, only use weapons such as a sword, staff, or knife that give you the upper hand over her alien strength. She has the ability to fly and her flight is not inhibited by virtually anything except emotional damage, and she can reach speeds up to 800 mph while airborne.

She releases pure bolts of energy from her eyes and hands that ignite flames as well as act as a great force upon their target, almost like lightning striking. These bolts can be stifled by restraints made of materials above a melting point of 2,800 degrees Fahrenheit, such as iron.

Her powers of flight, strength, and energy bolts all rely heavily on emotion; use psychological warfare to hinder her abilities and gain the upper hand

Her older sister Komand’r / Blackfire has malicious intent and is not an ally. She has the same set of abilities as her sister.

Conclusion: Keep under surveillance. Her romantic attachments to Nightwing will most likely keep her on the side of good, but, should she turn, use the Gordanian restraints (located in sector C, room 16) and strong sedative, possibly employing the Citadelian shock collar (located in sector C, room 17) )if necessary. Extended one-on-one combat with no outside help will most likely result in a defeat. A possible future threat.

Danger rating: 7

There were photos of her in casual civilian clothing, one in her most recent uniform, a newspaper clipping from an article when she crash landed on earth. A photo of her with her eyes and hands lit with starbolts, her face twisted with rage, teeth bared. A photo of her and Dick, his arm around her shoulders, the two of them smiling brightly at the camera. A photo of her asleep on the couch, adorably twisted up in blankets, a photo that Dick knew he took, a photo he never shared with Bruce.

Dick looked up from the folder, up into her pearlescent green eyes, watery with tears that were already slipping down her face. He tried to reach for her, comfort her, softly saying, “Kory-”

But as soon as his hand lifted, she stepped back, clutching the shackles to her chest, her shoulders now shaking as well, “Tell me what this is right now.”

Dick dropped his hand, sighing, “It’s Bruce’s. He keeps a list of everyone that is or was a threat or who he thinks could be,” he shakes his head, “He wouldn’t let me tell you Kory, just know it’s nothing that you did. He’s paranoid, it’s just who he is. Besides, I had no idea he had a file on you .”

“Having a plan is one thing, but this, ” Kory held up the shackles in shaking hands, “This has haunted me for the past five years. This isn’t a precaution, this is a plan. I-I…”

Dick stepped forward, taking her hands in his, setting the shackles and folder aside, “Kory, listen. No one is going to hurt you or take you away or lock you up, I would never let that happen, you know that.”

“But Bruce is...H-he’s your-” She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears to stop.

Dick wrapped his arms around her, cradling her head to his shoulder, “He’s who he is and I can’t change that. But I love you, Kory. I wouldn’t last a day without you.”

She leaned against him, clinging to the back of his shirt, and took a shuddering breath, “I can never go back to that life, Richard. Not ever again. I-I…” Trailing off, she buried her face in his shoulder, “I can’t”

“And you won’t,” He was firm in tone but soft in the way he ran his fingers through her hair, “I swear.”

Kory sobbed into his shirt, shaking like a leaf as Dick tried to calm her down.

A long moment settled between them and Kory pulled herself back, looking back over at the shackles, “Where did he even get those?”

The look on her face told Dick she was imagining the worst, but Dick cautiously explained, “They’re the ones you were held in when you crashed here. The police had them salvaged and locked up for safe keeping and...I guess Bruce got his hands on them.”

“But, I practically destroyed them. And now they look perfectly functional.”

“He probably fixed them as best as he could,” he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear,” Look, Kory, just because he kept them doesn’t mean he was planning on using them exclusively on you. Alien handcuffs would be pretty useful in some of the situations he finds himself in.”

Her nod was unsure, but she leaned against him again and sighed, “There’s one other thing.”

Dick waited for her to continue, resuming stroking her hair.

“The file said something about the Citadelian dotrik’a. He called it a shock collar, but that’s not really what it is. I wasn’t imprisoned in one of those when I arrived here. How did he get that?”

There really was no good explanation for that, and the weight of the silence was crushing. Dick looked up at the ceiling, then back down at her, “I don’t know.”  

The conversation, if you could call it that, that Dick had with Bruce over this was unsurprisingly brief. He told Bruce how fucked up it was that he was keeping tabs on his girlfriend as if she were a dangerous criminal and that he held onto the alien restraints just in case she went haywire. Bruce just looked at him with that slightly bored expression and told him some bullshit about being prepared and looks being deceiving and he was all but kicked out of his study.

Dick was used to that by now, the impassive figure Bruce turned himself into at times.

Kory, however, was not.

She had curled up in the bed they were sharing in the manor, surrounded by a large comforter, watching a hockey game, but the glazed look in her eye told Dick that she wasn’t really watching. Her hair framed her face and poured down her back and she sniffed occasionally, obviously still recovering from her crying from earlier.

Dick sat down next to her, rubbing her arm, “Hey.”

She didn’t respond, and Dick didn’t blame her. He just pulled the blanket in such a way that he could get underneath the covers with her, pulling her to his chest and wrapping her up in his arms.

The sports commentators were shouting when Kory said, “I’m sorry.”

He pressed a kiss to her temple, “There’s no reason to be, you did nothing wrong.”

“He doesn’t trust me.”

“He barely trusts me, Kory. There’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

“I just…” she sighed, moving so she could look up at him, “I just wish he liked me, you know?”

“Babe, of course he likes you. He just doesn’t say so or do anything whatsoever to indicate that he does,” he kissed her forehead again, “He’s difficult.”

Kory snorted, rolling her eyes, and Dick laughed, “I know, I know, understatement of the century,” the smile faded, “Just, trust me. If he didn’t like you, it would be a lot more obvious. Besides, what he thinks doesn’t matter. I like you a whole lot”

She nodded, a smile warming up her face, “Mmhmm.”

“I do!”

She laughed, hiding her face in his chest as he laughed too, the two of them pressed together completely. They cuddled up together, Kory relaxing considerably in his arms, and Dick pressed kisses into her hair, “ A lot a lot. I like-like you.”

“I like-like you too.”

Dick grinned, kissing her hair again.

Bruce didn’t say anything when all the papers in her file were mysteriously misplaced and when the shackles and the “shock collar” were suddenly broken beyond repair. There was a fresh new sheet of paper in the file, stating simply these words:

Warrior, ally, best friend, and soulmate.

[baby-grayson]

Kind Stranger|Epilogue

                                                                                                                 masterlist The year is 2023.

The date is January 1, 2023.

Kathleen Walker is sitting at her desk, in her lab. She is biting the nail of her right thumb while scrolling through a massive spreadsheet of data with her left hand. Above her, fifty-year-old fluorescent lights beam down with a gentle hum. She is alone, working through the New Year’s holiday to wrap up a project that will eventually change her career.

Behind her, mounted in the corner of the room, is a small box TV—maybe 13 inches wide at maximum. That TV was usually reserved for either mundane things, like the weather report, or extremely special occasions, like presidential inaugurations. On that night, Kate had flipped it to a random channel, E!News, providing her some comforting background noise in the dark and eerie laboratory. She grunts softly to herself, feeling as though she is thinking in circles.

The black of night had just fallen on the skyline of LA. Outside her small window, Kate could hear the consistent drumming of rain beating against the pavement. Kate despised the amount of rain LA got in the winter; it was a meek imitation of the wonderful snowfall in her beloved Philadelphia. The pouring rain only adds to her negative feelings about working through the night.

Her bad mood only worsened when the next E!News segment came on. Usually, when something crossed her path about Grayson Dolan, Kate was quick to change the channel or shut off her phone. Not because she harbored negative feelings towards Grayson, but because it wasn’t fair to hear about the life of her ex-boyfriend from third-party news sources, without an avenue to ask him herself or tell him about her new life. When the Dolan Twins would get themselves involved in the rare scandal or controversy, Kate would silently support them, remembering in her heart that they were good people.

And that’s all Grayson Dolan was, a memory. The kind of memory that Kate sometimes wondered if she was glamorizing in her mind, or if Grayson was truly as dreamy as she remembered him.

But Kate’s frustrations only grew when the peppy host on E!News started her latest segment from the small box TV.  

“It has been two weeks since Grayson Dolan announced his engagement to fitness designer and model Sherry Maddox—”  this is usually when Kate would roughly grab the remote and change the channel before any of the report’s words traveled to her brain. However, this time Kate slowly spun in her desk chair to see what Grayson’s new fiancé looked like.

Kate is greeted with the image of curvy, busty, blonde who looks something like a cross between Marilyn Monroe and a Disney Princess. She had bouncy blonde curls and a beauty mark on her upper lip. The TV showed a clip of her hanging onto Grayson’s arm at some event. Kate is struck by Grayson’s image: he really is as every bit of gorgeous as she remembered him. 

Kate brusquely turned around—disinterested, a bit bitter, and ready to get back to her work. She quickly grabbed the remote and muted the TV after hearing the words, “Grayson Dolan is scheduled to celebrate his new engagement to fitness designer and model Sherry Maddox tonight. The pair are reported to be planning their wedding in Califor---” Kate stopped the sound before the reporter could continue.

Kate took a deep breath before returning to her computer. She tried to get back to work. She sincerely tried to grab her calculator and punch in some numbers. Her own brain betrayed her. She dropped the calculator on the surface of her desk and sighed. She huffed and puffed, unsatisfied with her own performance that night.

Her head lifted when she heard a drumming noise coming from the hallway. She thought she was the only person working late on New Years’ day.

Before she can stand from her chair to investigate, a man barrels through the door. She freezes in fear, suddenly acutely aware of the dangers that working alone harbors. In an instant, her pulse quickens to a dangerous rhythm. If she were calm, she would grab her work phone and quickly dial campus police. She is too frozen in fear to move. But her fear fades into awe as she recognizes the sharp jawline of his face and the gold flecks in his eyes—he looked as if he was pulled straight out of her memories from Summer 2020.

Grayson’s eyes hold a veil of panic as he stares back at Kate. He lost his breath for a moment.

This gives Kate the opportunity to peer down and see Grayson dressed in button down shirt and printed, velvet suit pants. A much more formal outfit than anything she had ever seen him in.

Grayson’s mind finds an air bubble of clarity as he drowns in Kate’s big brown eyes, plush round mouth, and the wisps of hair escaping from her ponytail to frame her face. “I’m sorry,” his voice sounded as frantic as that moment felt, “I didn’t know what to do, “He ran his fingers through his hair, clearly disturbing his hair sprayed droop. He took in a hard breath and licked his lips, “I don’t know what I’m doing. But I know what I’m doing,” he nodded softly with wide eyes, “I needed to see you. Now. With everything that’s happening. I needed to see you. To see you like here to like in person. Sherry’s been going crazy since…well she flew her sister Coral out for tonight and was mad when I gave my mom the guest room and not Coral, even though she’s pregnant,  and my mom kept complaining that our colors were dark for an engagement party and we needed more flowers but Sherry doesn’t like any of the florists in LA and Ethan kept telling me to hold it together this is just the energy of the moment but it’s not the energy of the moment it’s the energy of everyday and this is going to be the everyday for the rest of my life and I—well I---” Grayson was breathing as if he had just run a marathon.

“Gray—son” Kate finished, not being comfortable using his nickname when he was basically a stranger. “What are you doing here?” Grayson inhaled deeply and looked down at her. He met her eyes. His gaze lost its wild veil for a moment as he said surely, “Two and a half years ago, I said goodbye to you because I knew I wasn’t ready for the kind of love you brought into my life. Well today, I’m ready for that kind of love but I’m engaged to someone who reminds that I will never get back everything I lost when I gave you up.” A/N: This is the epilogue of Kind Stranger, but is also the teaser for Kind Stranger Book 2: Sweet Enigma. If you would like to be on the tag list for Book 2, please let me know because I will be starting a new tag list. Please let me know what you think, it’s emotionally jarring to be done with Stranger.