#is my tv balancing close to the edge? yes but my cat likes to get behind it so I leave her space

[suit-of-cups]

I’m rewatching fma:b again, but almost all of my figures have arrived

Look how pretty they are!!! They definitely don’t block my view at all!

From left to right: Lily(vocaloid), Mari Ohara(lovelive), Sailor Venus(sailor moon), Edward Elric(fma), Winry(fma), Sailor Venus(again), Lucy Heartfilia(fairy tail)

[huearmy]

The Smell of Truth - III

Summary: After years being forced to fight in clandestine hybrid ring, Jungkook is now living in shelter, but life remains bad, the place is abusive, and nobody seems to want adopt him. Until one night a pro-hybrid activist group invades the shelter, and a woman in black smelling like truth promises that things will get better, and he decides to follow her wherever she goes.

Pairing: pitbull!Jungkook x human!Reader

Genre: fluff, angst, future smut maybe.

Words: 5303

Rating: NC-17

Sorry that it took forever, my head is messed up.

Chapter I  Chapter II  -  Chapter IV Chapter V  Chapter VI Chapter VII

For the first time in years Jungkook woke up on his own, when his body asked for it, without anyone waking him up with a bucket of cold water, or to meet some schedule. He felt numb and heavy, relaxed, rested. He stretched, sitting against the headboard in the dark room. He couldn't tell the time, since there was no clock, making him feel a little disoriented in space time. After so many years without freedom to come and go the boy was not sure what to do now. About ten minutes went by without anyone showing up to tell him to get up - and he didn't want at all, the bed hugging him - hunger settled in his stomach, as well as the urge to go to the bathroom. But could he really leave? He got up and tested the door. It wasn't locked. So he could leave the room, in theory. Without making a sound he closed the door again and went back to bed, thinking about what to do to make the best impression on the first day in his new home. He decided to make the bed and tidy up the room. When he opened the curtains, bringing light to the room, a pile of clothes on the armchair caught his attention - a pair of sweatpants shorts and a oversized t-shirt, a new toothbrush, a pink post it on top. These clothes are mine, but it’s for you to wear while we don’t buy some for you. I think it'll fit. By the smell it was obvious the clothes were yours, he didn't even need to read the note to know. It fit, but not the way Jungkook likes to dress up - he likes big clothes on him, to feel comfy, and your big clothes, wich are big for you, who are smaller than him, are just right to him.  Right now he was in clean clothes, smelling of fabric softener and you.  He put on his shoes and his cap too. Outside the window the now busy street was full of cars and people, making him excited to go out. But yet again, can he? Determined to be a good boy and not disobey, for you to love him, Jungkook sat on the edge of the bed and waited. More minutes passed before he heard light knocks on the bedroom door. He crossed the room in one step and opened the door as fast as he could, his tail wagging from side to side, but it wasn't you in the hall, his smile fell. It was the cat. "What are you doing?" Yeri asked, taking him by surprise. "I... I'm..." He stammered. She crossed her arms "You've been up for almost half an hour, why haven't you left the room yet? Are you alright?" "Yeah" He spoke so low that if Yeri didn't have feline hearing she wouldn't have understood a word. "I was waiting for Y/n." "Oh" Her confused expression softened. "She went to work." "She is not home?" Yeri couldn't understand the slight panic in Jungkook's voice at asking it, or why he didn't left the room by his own choice. She don't know the feeling of rejection like he does, or the pain of being treated like a animal. She knows she is privileged though, she don't need to understand to be empathic... And you asked her to be nice to Jungkook so... "No, and she asked me to keep an eye on you until she back." She smiled softly "Go wash yourself, Y/n let breakfast done for you." Jungkook loved the restroom, for no especial reason, he just he just never saw a bathroom so ... happy - all colorful and with little plants in cute pots, and smelling and clean like he never imagined a bathroom could be. Out of curiosity he decided to try the shower, turned the register slowly, and when the water started to fall he put his hand under it and ... oh, it was so warm. "Yeri!" Jungkook ran into kicthen , where the cat was waiting by the table, scearing her off. The white hairs on her tail were all standing on end when she answered in a hiss. "What?!" "Where do I find towels and shampoo?" He excitedly asked. Not quite understanding Yeri pointed to the hall. "In the closet under the stairs in the hall... But..." Before she could end the sentence he was gone, and the sound of the door of the bathroon closing againg. Jungkook love to shower, stay clean, water. This was often the only medicine he received after being beaten until he was unable to get up. After a while, the cold, limited water shower became the safe spot for him, where the world couldn't hurt him anymore, and he could just breathe. In the shelter the water was not so cold anymore, but there was still a time limit for each shower, it was still Jungkook's favorite time of the day, because he didn't need to think about anything other than himself. Now the water was hot and pressurized, massaging his sore muscles, more than the room you give to him, this felt like home. Of course Jungkook felt a litlle bit upset that you weren't home when he woke up, after all he wanted to see you, he never liked an owner so much that he missed them from one day to the next. But he wasn't going to complain, it's not like he's used to getting attention, in fact being alone was more common than anything. He understands that you can have more important things to do than show him the apartment or prepare and have breakfast with him... You are already too good to be real. He was rinsing his hair and ears, massaging his own scalp, when voices came from outside, caughting his attention. It was two voices, female. You were home. _________________________________________________________________________________________ You entered the apartment with arms full of shopping bags and document folders. You quickly dropped everything on the table or on the floor near the door, took off your coat to hang on the rack and kicked off your shoes. Your eyes searched the living room and kitchen, looking for Jungkook, without a sign of him. You tried to complete all your tasks at the office as quickly as possible and rescheduled some visits for other days of the week to be able to get home early to see him, you were anxious to know if he slept well, or if your male clothes fit him . The breakfast you prepared for him before leaving still wrapped on the counter. You frowned. "Where is Jungkook?" You asked to Yeri, who was lying on the couch by teh window, jumping through the channels. "Taking a shower. He just woke up." She said without looking away from the tv. You hummed. "Ok. Can you put on the news for me please. I didn't have time to check it today." Yeri complained despite obeying anyway, but you paid no attention to it, busy putting the mess you brought with you in its proper place. The TV journalist was talking about the economy updates, which was not the topic you wanted to see. The explosion of the shelter last night ended up on twitter trending topics, but you wanted to know what the official media outlets have to say about. On the internet your organization is seen as justice, everything you do is seen as a heroic act by many, and that brings strength to the movement. Those in favor of the slavery of the hybrids also speak out against you, but their ignorance only strengthens the abulutionist discourse too - in a slow process of difficulty, but there are so many people working for equality that you refuse to be shaken by these rotten people full of hate. This polarization of ideas, of course, also divides politics, and it is this part that interests you the most, because it is from the government that the rights of the hybrids will be guaranteed. Mess with the economy and popular opinion that it is possible to change the government, which is why you and your camarades love that much to explode some state buildings. "Why are you home? I was expecting you only in an hour." Yeri looked at you from the other side of the room with lazy eyes. "Ah, I have to go out to do some more sttuf, but I needed to come pick something... And maybe eat. I skipped lunch."   You decided to warm up the pancakes you made for Jungkook in the morning, and add toast and eggs to your meal. You heard the bathroom door and fast steps and was about to ask Jungkook if likes coffee, the moment you turned around he was already behind you, with a big smile and open arms to hug you. "Y/N!" You were enveloped by jungkook's long arms and squeezed against your chest, losing your balance the way he hit you with his whole body. By instinct and with no regrets, you hugged him back. His tail, which was already swinging from side to side, started to swing even faster. His dump hair was wetting you, and his litlle happy sounds were malink you soft. "Hi, Jungkook...." You give light taps on his back and opened up space between you two. " Let me see you... I knew the clothes would fit quite well. But if you don't like them, fine, they are only temporary, so you don't have to walk around in that shelter's hideous pajama." "I like the smell of it." He said smelling the shirt collar fabric. "Good. Because I'm a little paranoid about laundry." You really are. Actually you are kind of crazy tidy. "Are you hungry?" You softly said, still looking to how the clothes were wrapping his body. You didn't notices but you were making him blush with your stare. "Yes." He said in tiny. "Me too, lets eat breakfest together.". You reaffirmed your theory that Jungkook wouldn't be too picky about food, and that basically anything you put in front of him he eats happily. He just doesn't like coffee. And sweets are really his favorite. He ate the pancakes and egg with toast, plus a very large bowl of cereal, some fruit and a glass of juice. It wasn't just because everything was good, but he was happy you were eating with him, and that made him even more hungry. "Lucky me I have money." You still have a lot of questions in your head to do to Jungkook. You were curious about him in so many levels. Since from his habits and tastes to his past ... One doubt you have is: How is he so docile? His file said that he spent almost a decade in illegal dogfights. Most hybrids take less than five years to lost their and go feral, and then when they can no longer be controlled the owners put them down. But Jungkook doesn't. Furthermore, despite being a pitbull, he does not have his canine ears clipped, which is not common in the middle of where he came from. You wanted so much to ask... but you decided oposite it, thinking that it wasn't the moment. "Want more juice?" Jungkook offered, he was pouring himself more and saw your empty glass. "Of couse, thankyou, sweetie." You didn't notice the blush on his cheeks again, intending to pay more attention to the TV in the living room. Jungkook was not used to hearing praise like that, the most he heard from his former owner was 'champion' or 'good boy' when he won a fight and there was nothing satisfying about it. Your 'sweetie', on the other hand, accompanied by a smile from you, just because of a glass of juice seemed like the world to him. "Updates on the terrorist attack on a shelter in downtown Seoul last night: It was confirmed that despite the magnitude of the explosion and the damage to the building's structure, there were no victims, either by the hybrids or by the local staff. According to the authorities, the 100 hybrids that lived in the shelter were kidnapped by an anti-government organization as a form of protest, on social media entities defend that they were released by the Set Us Free movement." You got up and crossed your arms to watch the jornalist talking as aerial recordings of the burning building and post prints talking about took over the screen. "Early in the morning, a series of complaints linked to the shelter came to the knowledge of the police, involving corruption and money laundering, as well as mistreatment of resident hybrids. Among the evidence presented a list with names involved in the scheme ..." As the jornlist listed names of businessman and politicians. Many of these names you already knew, once your group that investigated and made the report, others were a surprise to you. In that moment you were so interested in the news that you sat on the end of the chouch supporting your elbows on your knees,  watching the TV without blinking. Jungkook recognized the images from the shelter last night, but he didn't find it so interesting, because seeing the explosion live was much nicer, and none of the information said anything to him. But seeing you so serious was interesting, he took the bowl of cereal and sat at your feet, looking more at you and your reactions than at the TV itself. "Senator Y/L/N spoke earlier in a news conference.." The image of the journalist was replaced by one of a man in a suit speaking in front of several different microphones. "Violent acts can't and won't be encouraged, but we need to pay attention to where it comes from. The social injustice and slavery of hybrids needs to be tackled in some way, and since the government is slow to guarantee the rights they deserve as similar to humans, manifestations of marginalized groups are to be expected. It is not giving them what they want, as the conservators say, it is guaranteeing them what should already be theirs by right. Situations like last night are nothing more than a symptom of the disease that we think we are entitled to own a hybrid." Jungkook thought it was cute the way you were biting the inside of your cheek or how it looked like you were narrowing your eyes with each word said. "Ya... Dad is so different when speeching..." Yeri mumbled.  It took Jungkook's attention away from you. "Dad?" He asked with his mouth full of cereal, looking from Yeri to you and to the man in the TV. "Yes." You awnsered, lying in the couch. "This is my uncle... He is cool isn't he?" Jungkook frowned, not thinking the guy is so cool... but since you say so... "Does he protect hybrids like you do?" You smiled to him, slightly petting his head. "On his way." At the same time that the news changed to weather forecast, your phone started to beep with messages. You praticaly jumped from the couch to your feet. "I need to go." You said. From the floor, Jungkook looked at you with doe eyes and a pout. "You are leaving again?" "I have something to do... But you can come with me. If you want." "I do." Jungkook jumped on his spot, finishing his cereal as fast as he could. "Then go put on that hoodie I gave you. Is kind of cold out side." You didn't need to say twice. Jungkook ran to his room to obligue, he came back finishing putting on his sweatshirt and putting on his shoes midair. He was so excited, and the look on your face when he took your hand was so affectionate towards him, just like the good dreams sometimes he have. He was intending on livig his best life with you while it lasted, as long as you wanted him, after so many bad, terrible things that he was forced to go through during his short life, Jungkook got used to not waiting for things to really improve, but he also learned to enjoy each of the good moments, whether they were truth or just dreams. Maybe he will wake up at some point and realize that he is still in the shelter ... or in the cold room, using a muzzle ... Until then he will not stop receiving all the affection that you are willing to give. Among the good things he was not expecting to happen, going out for a walk is one of Jungkook's favorite. "I'm ready." He told you with a cheekie smile, even if you could clearly see it for yourself. You just smiled back containing the urge to grab him by the cheeks. So cute. "Do you want a ride home,Yeri?" You picked the keys. "No thanks. Irene will pick me up in half of an hour." She didn't even looked at you to awnser, to busy scrowling throgh her phone. "Ok. Don't forget to lock the door when you leave," Said that you two left the apartment, and Jungkook got your attention all for himself again. ________________________________________________________________________________ It wasn't your plan to spoil Jungkook so much. Of course, you already intended to go shopping with him, and maybe, who knows, give the world to him if he wanted to, but the idea was that things would happen more slowly.  Instead, early in the morning on your way to work, you saw a beautiful jacket in a shop window and thought it would look beautiful on him, without hesitation you went into the store and bought it, and as a bonus some other pieces of clothing for essential use. Now you were supposed to go to the grocerie store, get an order of yours, and that's it. Kess than one hour and you both would be back home. Now its been almost two hours and your SUV is stuffed with shopping bags of clothes and other random things that made Jungkook's eyes sparkles as you strolled in front of shop windows - you let him buy a skate and an air freshener, for exemple. The tour was a big new world for him, clearly he was having fun just running around the store shelves and you had to pull him back into focus more than once. Like when he decided to try on all the hats in a store, first one hat at a time then all at the same time, it was cute, and you took the ones he seemed to like the most and added to his shopping pile without him paying attention. "Jungkook, do you want to choose some underwear? I have no idea what you like or what size you wear..." He was no where to be seen but you knew he was listening to you, especially after a few seconds, when the sound of the new boots you bought him two stores earlier approached fast, and then the hybrid's happy face appeared among the jeans racks beside you. "Oh, this is important, the only underwear I have is drying on my bedroom window." He said starting to look through the pile of new underwear, ignoring all the colored ones, and separating only the black and white ones. "Wait, what?" You blinked at him. "I washed in the shower and didn't know where to leave it, so I hung it in the window." He simply said. You were kind of shocked. "Jungkook... Aren't you wearing underwear? Like right now...?" He just made no with his head, too entertained in choosing several identical boxer briefs.. You looked around to see if anyone around heard it, taken with modesty but finding the situation a little funny. "Did you have more at the shelter? Why didn't you bring it when I said to get your things?" "I had it, but I didn't think about it at the time." You just laughed at him and hurried him so you would soon pay for everything and move on, with the promise of returning to buy more things later. You still needed to go to the grocerie store... Where together you filled a shopping cart with your list - last night he said he wanted to have a barbecue, so you were going to prepare one for him, lots of meat, charcoal and side dishes - and things that Jungkook thought might taste good by the look of it. "Jungkook, you will find some hygiene products for hybrid in this corridor. Take a look and choose, I'll be right back ... ". "Wait." He looked arond. The grocerie store was way bigger than the clothes shops you went before, with a lot more people, he was not comfortable being alone here. How would he know where to find you if you go too far? You read that in his expression and give his hand a squeeze. "I'll just pick a package. Three corridors from here to the right." You poited. "But don't worry I'll be right back. Can you look the cart for me?" "Of couse I can." He said, more confident now. "Thankyou, sugar." You gave him another of those smiles and then left him alone to choose deodorants and soaps for hybrids. But you didn't lie, as fast as you're gone you're back, now with a wrapped paper package in your hands. Out of curiosity Jungkook sniffed the package over your shoulder while you put it in the cart, but for some reason he was unable to identify what could be inside. "Please don't put anything on top of that, it's fragile." You said. "Ready to go?" "Yeah." Jungkook droped one of one soap bar into the cart, not seeing which of the two fragrances he had been choosing before. "What is it?" You gave him a mischievous smile, hooking an arm around his and then guiding him through the corridors to the cashiers. You knew he would be curious, and you specifically asked them to wrap the package in a special paper that will outwit his dog nose. "Its a surprise." Jungkook was convinced. He never had good experiences with the idea of 'surprise', but coming from you he did not imagine anything bad. If you were saying that he was supposed to wait to find out what was in the package, then he was just going to wait. ____________________________________________________________________ When you got home, you parked once again at the back of the building, the light from the florist indicating that although it was time to close, the employees still haven't left. The same thing in the office on the second floor. You thought it would take a lot of coming and going to take all the bags up to the apartment, but while you picked up some and thought it was too much for you, Jungkook picked up almost all the others, hanging them in his arms, and when he left the first batch on living room ran to get the rest alone. It had been a while since he had space to run a litlle, without even being able to remember the last time. He only slowed down when he heard voices on the second floor, adjusted the bags in his hands and tried to go unnoticed. "I want to finish this before call it a day." A soft voice spoke. "But I want to go home. I'm hungry..." Another male voice answered. "More fifteen minutes, Tae." The office door opened just when Jungkook was passing, and he felt like he was caught doing something he shouldn't have, even if he wasn't, two guys looking right at him. The one at the table in front of a computer and stacks of paper smiled and waved at him. The other, holding the door handle, didn't even blink at him, looking serious. Jungkook just bowed his head and continued on his way, stopping only after reaching you in the kitchen. You felt his arms embracing you from behind and his forehead on you sholder. The guy at the table was a hybrid, he couldn't tell what kind, but the smell was like a cat, and probably, since as far as he knows they both work for you, the two shouldn't be bad. Still, Jungkook couldn't make his heart slow down. Men scare him. You turned to look at him. He didn't let you go tho. "What's up?" You asked noticing his distress. Jungkook bited down his bottom lip. "Got tired." You smiled and pet his head for the second time today making him sigh and close his eyes. Without knowing it you made him calm down. "Go put your things on your room, the new clothes in the closet... When you're done, go up to the terrace." "And then we will eat a lot of meat?" "Yep" _______________________________________________ You were just finishing making the vegetable skewers, and putting the meat on the grill when Jungkook went up the stairs to the floor where his room is and the terrace, where he hadn't gone yet. Like the bathroom, the terrace were filled with plants, but here the vases and plants are much bigger. The starry sky was beautiful, and the movement of cars and people on the street is comforting and full of possibilities. Jungkook stopped by the glass door and just looked at you, who didn't noticed him yet. You were now in comfortable clothes and messy hair, drumming his fingers on the table to the beat of a song that was playing only in his head. Once again the thought that you seem inoffensive crossed Jungkook's mind. But that's a lie. You are powerfull in a way he isn't. During the tour of the city he saw your surname in names of shops and street signs more than once, your uncle is an important guy who appears on TV, and your friends do illegal things using guns and bombs... And you are human - and that's enough for you to be scary for any hybrid. You are not harmless, and one thing that would certainly hurt Jungkook hard would be if after today, when he felt at home after years of not knowing what that feeling is like, you decide that you don't want him anymore. That would be worse than every time he thought he was going to die in a fight. Rejection. Like in the shelter, Jungkook was trying to figure it out a way to be loved. To be so loved that someone would want to live with him forever and never leave him. But he doesn't know how to do it. "Do you want some help?" He approached you. "No. Now just don't let the meat burn." You proudly put your hands on your hips. "But I wantou to sit here... and close your eyes." You made him sit by the wooden picnic table and ran inside. He closed his eyes as you said so. You came back with calmer steps and put something in front of him, an instant after the smell of phosphor and sugar entered Jungkook's nose and you said... "You can open it now." In front of Jungkook was a cake with the words "Welcome home JK" written on it and some candles on top. His eyes got wet instantly. "This is an welcome party." You said softly, holding his hand. "And every party need a cake. Surprise, Jungkook." Jungkook wiped away the tears that began to flow with the sleeve of the hoodie - the hoodie that was yours and still smells like you. Seeing that he was crying, you tentatively rubbed a hand on his back and waited for the sobs to pass before you spoke. "Jungkook, we need to have this conversation sooner or later... But I don't want to be your owner." You said and he got freeze. He looked in shock to you and more tears ran down his face. He was so confused. The cake made him so happy and then you said exactly what he was afraid of hearing. A knowing look reached your eyes and you wiped the boy's face yourself. "Don't cry. Let me explain, ok?" He nodded, without realizing that he was holding your hand with all his strength. You couldn't care less. "I never intended on adopting or buying a hybrid. You are the only exception." You smiled sweetly. "When you said you wanted to come with me I couldn't say no. You were so sweet, trusting on me... You are very special to me, even if we've only known each other since yesterday." You took his face in your free hand. "But I'm unable to own a person. It may be strange for you to understand what I am saying now, but my intention in having you with me is for you to be free. If you want to live with me forever, in the simplest way in the world, I will take care of you. If you want to live your life in any other way, even if it is somewhere else, I will also take care of you, and support you. Because the choice is yours. Of course, you don't have to choose anything now. Today or years from now ... It will remain your choice." Jungkook relaxed but remained confused, not knowing how to respond. "What do you want?" He finally said. Your eyes saddened, the thought that your wanting to be more important to him than his own bothering you. "I want to be your friend." His answer seemed to be what Jungkook wanted to hear, because he opened a huge and beautiful smile. "That's enough for me. Can I eat the cake?" "Of couse!" You served him a piece and one for you, chattering like you never cared much for dessert after a meal, and that if he wanted to eat the meat and the cake together you wouldn't judge. His daydreams are cute, he concluded, determined to love you so that you love him. "Y/N... There are a lot of things about me that I don't like, and I know you won't like it either... And I don't like to talk about it, or to think about it at all... But since we are friends I feel like I should... " "That you should tell me?" He nodded. "You dont need to. Jungkook, I already know a lot of bad things about you." You made him freeze again. "Nothing personal, but enough that if it bothered me or changed the way I see you, I wouldn't even have brought you home. But I don't care, and if you don’t feel like sharing it with me now, or ever, okay, you don’t owe it to me just because we’re friends." He smiled to his cake. "Seriously, I have a lot of secrets my friends don't know. You can have yours too." "Thankyou, Y/N. I like you a lot, and I think I want to be with you forever." That was your time to smile to your cake. "So you are stuck with me forever then." Having a friend has always been more important to Jungkook than having a good owner. But for him the only friend he had stayed in the past, he was already sure that it would never happen again and that he was alone for the rest of his life. But now he had you, and that is enough. Regardless of the situation, friends are forever. If you are friends, he doesn't have to be afraid of you kicking him out, even with all the bad things he has done or all the fears he has.

And that good feeling tastes like cake. _____________________________________________________________

Tag list: @stayunderthelights  @deolly  @panconte @serendipityoreuphoria @madygswich

_______________________________________________________

If you want me to tag you, pls tell me.

AND PLEASE GIVE LOVE TO THIS WORK OF MINE: Clumsy

[hockeylvr59]

Carl’s Choice || Zach Aston-Reese

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: I think you all know how much I love ZAR’s puppy Carl by now. I’ve written a few blurbs for Zach but decided it was time to write a full length imagine for him. So I proudly present 4 times Carl chose you and 1 time he didn’t. Yes, I heavily featured Carl but Zach is in it too, lol. 

Warnings: a couple of curses

Word Count: 3,180

~~~~~~~

I.

Lately, you couldn’t tell whether it was almost Christmas or almost Memorial Day. These 60 degree December days were seriously throwing off your sense of time. Not that you were complaining...because you’d take this weather over freezing temperatures any day. In fact, you’d decided to take advantage of the weather, throwing on some workout clothes and tennis shoes before heading to one of the many parks in downtown Pittsburgh. 

About 20 minutes into your walk you’d realized one of your shoes had come untied and you knelt down at the edge of the walkway to tie the laces back up. It was as you were adjusting your pants back down over the tops of your shoes that a high pitched bark sounded in your ears and suddenly an energetic dog was racing right at you. As you pushed yourself to your feet, you felt him quickly dance around your legs, and from off in the distance, you could hear a man yelling at the dog. 

“CARL!” You heard the man yell again as he jogged closer. As your eyes took in the broad shape of the dog’s owner, your brain processed the name and the breed of the dog still dancing around you and all at once, everything clicked. 

Squatting back down you let Carl sniff you quickly before he started licking you, attacking you with kisses. 

“CARL!” The man repeated, now just a few feet away from you. This time Carl paused and looked over towards his dad, his tail continuing to wag excitedly. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into him.” He explained and it was now that you noticed the empty leash in his hands. “I had him leashed and then suddenly he was just taking off towards you. I think maybe he thought you were hurt.” As he rambled, he moved to hook the leash back onto Carl’s collar. 

“It’s okay.” You insisted, standing back up once again, your hands settling onto your hips. “He meant well.” A smile was growing on your face as you appreciated the man standing in front of you glaring slightly at his dog. “And it’s not every day you get kisses from your favorite Instagram pup.” You added, your lips pursing with mirth. Carl yipped happily as Zach’s brows raised, his brain processing your words. Suddenly his free hand was rubbing at the back of his neck and you could tell he felt slightly uncomfortable. 

“I should get back to my walk now that Carl is satisfied I’m okay.” You declared, not wanting this to become a big deal. “Uh...it was nice to meet both of you, good luck with the season…” After shooting Zach what you hoped was a warm smile you turned on your heel to continue down the pathway. The moment you started walking, Carl whined loudly and repeatedly until you saw him appear beside you again, Zach jogging behind him. 

“Mind if we walk with you?” Zach breathed, his voice somewhat hesitant. Your pulse skipped a beat as you watched him glance between you and Carl. Being back in close proximity to you, Carl had settled and his tail was wagging once again. 

“Sure.” You eventually agreed. Normally you would be hesitant about a man inserting himself into your walk, but it was the middle of the day, and being who he was you doubted that you were in any danger. In fact, it felt far more likely that you would trip or sprain your ankle than that Zach would cause you any harm. And since you didn’t feel like you were in any danger, having company while you continued what you were already doing didn’t feel like too much of a hardship. 

As you walked, Carl continued to yip happily, swerving to brush against your legs every so often. Eventually, you reached a point where you needed to rest, keeping up with a professional athlete and an energetic dog was just too much. As you flopped down into a patch of grass, Zach stood above you, his expression much more relaxed than it had previously been. At the same time, Carl came over to kiss your face again before plopping himself down at your side. 

“You know. I can’t remember the last time he was so calm during a walk.” Zach mentioned, his hands tucked into his pockets. “Usually he’s wanting to chase every squirrel, investigate every tree.” It was left unspoken how much Carl seemed to like you but when you finally made your way back to the edge of the park you watched as once again Zach rubbed his hand against the back of his neck. 

“Could I uh...could I get your number?” He questioned. “So maybe we could meet up and walk together again?” 

After tapping your number into his phone, you bent down to pet Carl one final time, a giggle falling from your lips as Carl perched himself against your legs for more kisses. 

Of all of the people Carl could have chosen to approach in the park, he had chosen you. 

II.

When the weather allowed, and even sometimes when it really didn’t, you found yourself joining Zach and Carl on walks. The more time you spent together, the more open Zach became and if you were honest with yourself, those walks were always the highlight of your week. 

On a Saturday afternoon in early February, you found yourself parking along the curb of a well-off neighborhood, a small gift bag in your hand, and a large crockpot of meatballs tucked against your chest. The moment you reached the front yard, you were thrown off balance as Carl bolted across the lawn. Zach’s booming laugh reached your ears almost immediately and you murmured gratefully at him as he moved to take the food from your hands. With your hands now free apart from the gift bag, you squatted down in front of Carl, accepting all of his kisses as you pet him behind his ears. 

“And who is the sweetest birthday boy?” You cooed. Carl yipped in response and you leaned forward to kiss his head. “Yes Carl, I know. You’re the sweetest birthday boy.” When Carl started to nose against the gift bag you giggled and shook your head. “You can’t have that now, that’s for later.” You chastised. Instead, you dipped your hand into the pocket of your coat pulling out a peanut butter, pumpkin, and blueberry cookie that you had made for him for Christmas and which Zach had raved about him loving. Upon smelling the treat, Carl immediately started nosing at your hand and you shook your head. 

“Sit Carl.” You directed. When he complied, you opened your hand, allowing him access to the treat. “Good boy.”

The clearing of a throat drew your attention up and you watched as Zach gazed down at you. 

“Uh...Kelsey wants to know if she needs to do anything to the food you brought?” He murmured. 

“Oh uh...they just need to be plugged in to keep warm.” You responded, a shiver running through your body. “I’ll uh...I’ll go help her.” You added. Zach summoned Carl to follow the two of you inside and he introduced you to his teammates as you slipped your coat and shoes off and made your way through the house to the kitchen. 

As he handed you a drink a few minutes later, his hand fell to rest against your lower back. 

“You know you didn’t have to bring anything.” He spoke softly, his mouth just inches from your ear. 

“And you know my mama raised me better than that.” You replied, sipping from the drink and smiling as the fruity concoction hit your tongue. “Though you should probably try them before you think too highly of me.” You added. 

And try them Zach did. In fact, he downed at least one whole entire plate of them himself. You mingled for a bit with the wives and girlfriends of Zach’s teammates before finally settling with a plate of your own onto the living room floor while a hockey game played on tv. You’d been seated for less than five minutes when Carl jumped down from his spot next to Zach to rest his head on your lap. Within minutes, he was zonked draped halfway over your body, and the fact that he had left his dad so quickly to snuggle you caught the attention of everyone there. 

“ZAR bud, I think you’ve been replaced,” Rusty commented, a smile on his face. 

“You’re not even your own dog’s favorite,” Jake added teasingly. 

Zach just shrugged, an unreadable expression on his face. Carl didn’t move from his spot on your lap the entire game, and he’d only stirred when you ran your finger up and down his nose before murmuring that it was time for treats. 

Watching Carl dig into his birthday cake before playing with the stuffed penguin you’d gotten him filled your heart with so much happiness. He was such a sweet and special puppy that even as a cat lover you couldn’t help but adore him. 

As the sun set, you knew you needed to get home, though you didn’t really want to leave. Carrying the now cleaned crockpot, Zach walked you to your car. 

“So I’ll see you in a few days for our walk?” You questioned, the idea having been mentioned earlier in the day. When Zach shook his head negatively, you were confused but figured he’d forgotten about some preexisting plan. “Okay then.” You declared. “Goodnight.” 

“Wait. Fuck.” Zach breathed, his hand reaching out and falling to your hip as you leaned against the side of your car. With your lip tugged between your teeth, you waited for him to say something more. 

“Instead of a walk…” He started. “I want…” He looked nervous as he spoke and it caused your stomach to fill with butterflies. “Let me take you out. On a date.” He requested, his fingers flexing against your hip. 

Though you hadn’t seen it coming, you couldn’t deny that the thought of it had crossed your mind once or twice before. 

“I’d like that.” You agreed, leaning up to press a quick kiss to Zach’s cheek, his scruff creating a tickling sensation. “But are you sure you want to take me out when I’m Carl’s favorite?” You joked. Zach’s eyes went a shade darker and he chuckled softly. 

“He’s got good taste. I don’t blame him.” 

III. 

Being with Zach brought a new light to your life. While you had your struggles and disagreements like all couples do, being with him just felt easy. There was nothing you loved more than curling up with him and Carl on the couch at the end of a long day. 

Even though you’d only been together three months, there was a part of you that felt certain that he was the one. So when Zach asked you to go home with him after the team was eliminated from the playoffs, you immediately agreed. 

It wasn’t until you reached New York that you realized just how much of an accent Zach had and you couldn’t help but tease him about it. Just as quickly he threw back how bad your Pittsburghese was and you conceded knowing that he was right. While the teasing was a momentary distraction from the nerves you were feeling at meeting Zach’s family, the moment it ended, those nerves crept right back up. 

As you pulled up to Zach’s childhood home, you glanced back at where Carl was asleep in the backseat. Gathering your bag from the trunk, despite Zach’s protest, you watched as he tried to get Carl up and out of the car with no success. Carl’s eyes were open but he remained sprawled out across the backseat, no intention of going anywhere. 

“Carl, come,” Zach commanded, snapping his fingers at his dog as he worked to gather everything else from the car. A loud sigh escaped your boyfriend’s throat when Carl failed to obey. It had been a long drive and you knew Zach was tired so you rubbed your hand along his back. 

“Babe...why don’t you start inside.” You murmured before turning your attention to the pup in the backseat. 

“Come on Carl...car time is over.” You instructed and immediately Carl lifted his head before jumping from the backseat to stretch, pacing around your legs before trotting up the driveway. Closing the car, you watched as Zach let Carl inside before meeting you halfway up the driveway. 

“I hate you.” He grumbled, again reaching for your bag which this time you let him take. 

“You love me.” You replied, kissing his cheek before taking his hand in yours. As you turned to walk away he tugged you back to him. 

“You’re right. I do. Even if my dog listens to you and not me.” 

IV. 

From the first night you’d started staying over at Zach’s, Carl had decided to make himself at home in the spot between yours and Zach’s feet. In the six-plus months you’d been together if Carl was in bed with the two of you, that was where he laid. When it was just you in Zach’s bed, Carl chose to sleep against his dad’s pillow. 

So when he started sleeping pressed against your abdomen, it had struck you as odd. But you blew it off as one of his weird dog moods. Plus, it wasn’t like you didn’t enjoy more cuddle time with the dog you’d grown to love almost as much as his owner. 

You were in the kitchen of Zach’s apartment making dinner while Zach paced around the apartment talking to his Aunt out in California on the phone. She must have asked about Carl because Zach started talking about his latest adventures before bringing up his new favorite spot to sleep. 

You hadn’t realized he was on speakerphone until Zach stepped into the kitchen behind you, stealing a piece of cooked chicken from the cutting board beside you. 

“Zach honey...I don’t mean to pry but I have to ask…” His Aunt’s voice floated through the speaker. “Is it possible y/n is pregnant?” 

You nearly cut yourself on the knife in your hand as your body froze, the knife clattering onto the cutting board. 

“I only mention it because it’s possible that Carl has sensed a change in the scent of her hormones and has moved spots due to an instinct to protect the baby.” 

The room was silent as your brain spun, overwhelmed by her words. 

“I uh... I gotta go...I’ll call you back.” Zach’s voice mumbled as the room started to spin slightly. As you wobbled, Zach’s hands wrapped around your waist and he pulled you back against his chest. Just as quickly, Carl himself raced into the room from where he had been sleeping on the couch and he nosed at your legs until eventually your body steadied itself, leaning back against Zach’s body. 

After a moment, Zach scooped you up and carried you to the couch, his lips dropping to your forehead. 

“Zach...I…” You weren’t even 100% certain that it was your voice speaking the words. As Carl jumped up beside you, Zach’s hand moved to cradle your jaw and he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. 

“No...don’t.” He whispered. “I’ll go get a test.” He declared. 

Twenty minutes later, dinner was completely forgotten as you sat on the couch, Carl’s nose tucked against your stomach while three positive pregnancy tests stared up at you from their spot on the coffee table. Mindlessly, your fingers ran over Carl’s spine as you watched Zach sitting next to you, his head in his hands from shock. 

“We’re having a baby.” He eventually breathed, and when he looked up you saw that his eyes were filled with tears. “Fuck...I’m gonna be a dad.” Still uncertain about how he felt about that declaration your breath was slow and shaky. Then Zach leaned over and his lips crashed down onto yours. Upon pulling away, he glanced down at Carl, his fingers sliding from your neck down to the flat expanse of your belly. 

“You’re the greatest dog ever bud. Good work.” 

This time when Zach kissed you again, you could feel him smiling into it, both his and your own tears wetting your cheeks. “We’re having a baby.” It was one of the most amazing phrases you had ever heard. 

+

Through the entirety of your pregnancy, Carl had insisted on sleeping as close to your baby bump as possible. Sometimes it was inconvenient, but it was sweet all the same. In the time you’d been together, Carl had certainly become more your dog than Zach’s but your boyfriend never really seemed to mind. 

When you’d brought your daughter home, she’d started sleeping in the bassinet on your side of the bed. And Carl had remained by your side, though he shifted further down the bed toward your feet. You’d expected that now that Lindsey was here that Carl would resume his original sleeping positions, either between yours and Zach’s feet or at Zach’s pillow. 

And when you’d placed Lindsey in her crib in the nursery for the first time while Zach was on the road, Carl had indeed been tucked up against Zach’s pillow when you crawled into bed. 

You’d stirred sometime around 2:30 in the morning according to a glance at your phone. You’d expected to be up for a feeding by now but you hadn’t heard anything from the baby monitor. Immediately panic flooded through your veins and you almost jumped out of bed. A glance back revealed that Carl was also nowhere to be seen and that caused another wave of fear. 

Racing to your daughter’s nursery you leaned over the crib and immediately almost cried in relief. Lindsey was doing just fine, her tiny fists were balled up above her head as she slept, soft snores like her dad spilling from her lips. 

As your heartbeat returned to its normal rhythm, your eyes drifted further down the crib. There, curled up in a ball with his snoot resting on your daughter’s foot was Carl, peering up at you in the dark. A light laugh spilled from your throat and you reached down to pet him gently. 

“I guess you have a new favorite girl don’t you boy?” Carl didn’t move but it was clear from the look in his eyes that he was going to do whatever it took to keep her safe. 

By choosing you that day in the park, Carl had given you everything you could have ever imagined. Now he has chosen your daughter. Chosen to protect her, chosen to love her just as much as he loves you. He was truly the best dog and you were so grateful for the day he had bounded into your life. 

“Love you, Carl.” You murmured, petting him once more before returning to bed, certain that Lindsey was in the best of hands. 

[erza-haninozuka]

Goddes

Characters: Shota Aizawa x Female Reader

Word: 1,950

Warnings: Lemons, some of that good good. 

A/N: Today’s fic was inspired by a song by my favorite artist/band. Normally I have trouble picking favorites, but Avril will always be one of my favorite artists. So please enjoy!

You were sitting in your shared apartment, tissue box on stand by and dressed in your favorite pajamas as your eyes were glued to the tv. 

It was your only source of light for the small living area and the audio was turned low. You were still able to hear their voices as you watched the scenes unfold before you. 

The sound of the lock clicked before the door opened up with your boyfriend looking tired as ever. There was a small thump as he managed to carefully kick off his shoes. 

His feet practically dragged as he made his way in, shutting the door and locking it, not having paid you any mind yet. 

“Sorry, the meeting ran a little longer than I expected,” He said, turning and finally taking in your appearance. 

The glow from the tv somehow accentuating the features of your face, making you even more beautiful to him than you already were. 

He could tell in just a split second that what you were watching had made you cry prior, the box sitting on the mall table before you and the trash can at its side. 

You looked at him, brows slowly furrowing as he just stood there looking right back at you. 

“Is something wrong?” 

“Far from it actually,” Shota spoke. He closed the distance, sitting on the loveseat beside you, and capturing your lips for a kiss. “Damn, how did I get so lucky?” 

“I feel like I’m the one who should be saying that, Shota.” 

He chuckled lowly, “Then we’re just lucky to have each other.” He gave you another kiss, enjoying the taste of root beer on your lips. “Look so damn beautiful.” 

You smiled, chuckling lowly as you shook your head, “I’m literally just in my pajamas. I’m sure my eyes are still a bit puffy from crying and I have no makeup on.” 

He scoffed, “And that’s a reason to not be beautiful. Baby,” he cupped your face in his hands. “You are still beautiful to me. This, how you look right now, is just who you are. I find you so fucking beautiful, and you don’t need clothes or makeup to change that. Beautiful inside and out. I mean, I love to see you feel confident when you do look dolled up, but even when you aren’t, you are still just an angel to me.” 

You smiled, enjoying the affirmations he was so freely handing out as you kissed him again, wrapping your arms around him. 

Shota’s hands left your face and he adjusted slightly, his muscles twitching underneath your grasp as he effortlessly lifted you from the couch. 

“Don’t drop me!” 

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Kitty Cat.” 

You shivered, his pupils darkening as he carried you to the bedroom. He kicked the door closed before laying you onto the bed. The comforter billowed out from the sudden weight. 

You chuckled softly, his hair gently tickling your face as it fell off his shoulders. 

He reached for a nearby hair tie sitting on the bedside table, straightening up and pulling his hair into a ponytail. 

Normally he’d let his hair tickle at your skin or allow you to grasp it in your hands to pull gently, but tonight he wanted it pulled away. 

He didn’t want any sort of distraction to trail on your skin, or for groans to erupt from him by the pleasure of you tugging at his hair the way he liked. 

He leaned back down to you, lips pressing to both cheeks before finally kissing down one side of your neck. His facial hair scratched at your skin as he gently bit into your flesh, pulling low moans from you.

His hands snaked up, rubbing your sides before pushing your shirt over your breasts. His hands massaged gently, pinching the pert nipple between his fingers as he kissed on your neck before trailing down to your clavicle. His tongue swiped across the skin, making you shiver in his hold. 

You watched as he pulled away, gripping your hands and pulling you up, face mere inches from his with his eyes completely blown with lust. His hands gripped at the soft cotton fabric, pulling it the rest of the way off your body. Shota’s hands went back to your exposed skin, running them along your arms to smooth out your goosebumps. 

You captured him in another kiss, laying back and pulling him with you. Your fingers trailed down to the zipper on his hero suit, pulling it down to expose the black v neck tee he wore underneath. 

He sat back, pushing the fabric down his arms before reaching down and yanking his shirt off, tossing it to the floor on top of yours. 

Your hands ran along his abs and chest, not minding the scars that decorated his body from hero work. 

He flashed you a smirk before placing kisses all over your exposed torso, gently biting and sucking on your nipples in the process, leaving you writhing underneath him and whining. 

Your face flushed as he moved even further, paying attention to all the curves of your exposed skin, giving extra love to the stretch marks you had in certain places on your body before his lips met at your hip. 

He was careful to pull down your shorts and underwear. His hands came back up after spreading your legs, cupping your ass in each hand as he lowered himself. 

Again he placed kisses to the newly exposed skin, giving attention to your thighs. 

He gently bit into your inner thigh, making your face flush even more as you squirmed in his hold, a small orgasm tearing through your body from it. 

You could feel him smirking into your skin with satisfaction before he licked up your folds and flicking his tongue over your sensitive bud. 

Your hands gripped tightly into the comforter, a soft moan falling from your kissed swollen lips.

He sucked gently, squeezing your ass in his hands. 

“Shota please,” you begged out into the silence of the room. 

“Not yet, Kitty Cat. Just be patient for me,” he grumbled into your flesh. 

The vibrations made you jolt slightly before he dove his tongue into your slicked folds. He moaned, thrusting his tongue in the way you loved.

He was driving you mad with just his lips alone, leaving you a moaning, begging mess.

You knew he was nowhere close to being done with you when he finally pushed a finger into you. He pumped it slowly as he placed more kisses to your thighs.

Shota slowly pushed in a second finger, pumping them even faster than before. The sounds of your juices squelching as his tongue pressed against your clit. 

“Fuck, Shota!” 

He groaned, the feeling of you clenching on his fingers going straight to his cock.

Shota pulled his fingers away when he felt your orgasm die down, moaning as he sucked his fingers clean before straightening up again. He pushed his hero suit off the rest of the way, the fabric taking his socks with. 

You could see his cock straining underneath the fabric of his boxers, a small dark spot from the precum that leaked out. 

His member sprang free when he pushed his boxers off, kicking them to join the pile of clothes before coming down to meet your lips for another kiss.

“Shota please…” 

Instead of giving any type of verbal response, he lined up, first gently running the head of his cock through your slick folds before pushing in slowly.

He groaned at the feeling of your wet cunt taking him in, stretching around him in the most delicious way. 

Before he could make sure you were good, you were already rolling your hips and deepening the kiss. 

His hands quickly came down and pinned your body further into the bed, “Hold on there Kitty Cat.” 

You whimpered underneath him making him chuckle softly. 

“Such a fucking eager Kitten. Want my milk that badly?” 

“God yes, fucking breed me Shota. Fill me up.” 

He groaned and kissed you, thrusting slowly. 

Each slow drag of his cock had you begging for more- for him to just let go and pound away any frustrations he had today into your willing pussy. 

But he kept his thrusts slow and deep. He was so tender and gentle with you, driving you mad. 

He could tell as his cock brushed your sweet spot with each thrust, was bringing you slowly and closer to the edge. 

You were barely hanging on as he angled himself, driving right into the spot you so needed to send you right over the edge. 

His moans mixed with yours as your walls fluttered around him. The feeling of you driving him into the need of his own release. 

He sat back and adjusted your legs, holding them close to his chest as he began to pound into you. 

You cried out loudly as he pushed his cock into you roughly and repeatedly.

The new position left you tighter around him, the look of pleasure on your face sending him close to his own cliff. 

“Fucking cum with me,” he ordered.

He drove his cock deeply into your sweet spot as he reached down and rubbed your clit, not minding one of your legs falling to the side away from his chest. 

He felt as your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, stronger than the ones before and pulling his own from him.

He fell from the edge, spilling hot, thick ropes of his seed into you and coating your fluttering walls.

Shota groaned, feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm as your legs began to tremble, releasing the other leg he was holding onto.

Once he was sure everything was loaded into you, he carefully pulled out. He watched as some of his cum spilled down, mixed with your own juices. 

Shota quickly got up, having to catch his balance before grabbing a washcloth. He dampened it for you and gently cleaned you up, being mindful to only clean up what spilled out. 

After you were taken care of he cleaned himself up before collapsing into the bed beside you, your warm chest becoming his pillow as he wrapped his arms around you, keeping you close. 

You smiled and carefully freed his ebony locks from his hair tie, watching as it splayed across his skin. You carefully massaged his scalp, feeling his body fully relax next to you before he began to doze off.

Sleep had finally caught up to the man after suffering from a lack of sleep for the past few days due to work.

You carefully placed a kiss to his head, mind reeling back to when the two of you met.

Neither of you were looking for any kind of relationship, much less a serious one. But it took you by surprise by just how much you needed the other. 

Shota had been used to other heroes suffering from guilt and mental illnesses. He knew they all understood the pain he constantly carried around, but they freely talked about it and even sought out therapy. He chose to bottle it up and even on occasion run from his feelings. But you seemed to completely understand, carrying around your own baggage that you chose to ignore on occasion. 

There was comfort in the conversation you two held. There was something you both offered the other.

Those days melted into weeks and into months. And you were pretty damn sure there was no other man in the world who would make you feel as loved and treasured as Shota Aizawa could.

To him, you felt like his world- a fucking goddess.

[oftenderweapons]

Introducing: the Girlfriend — Giggles

Hello bumblebees!

Since the girlfriends will feature as original characters in some of the pieces I’ve planned, in this small serie you will find some general information about the girls, presented with their aesthetics. Here you will find Hobi’s Giggles. NSFW content is featured.

You can find more of her and the other girls here.

And here is my masterlist

Giggles is the cutest little potato. That could be all. However, I'm gonna elaborate.

I think she's a couple years younger than Hoseok, or maybe the same age. She is medium tall (slightly smaller than him, but barely) and quite thin. Her body is lithe and stretchable — she does yoga — but quite curveless, however this is not an issue to Hoseok. He loves her small, girly physique. In terms of nationality, she could be Korean, but her parents might be foreigners: I see her being pretty pale and a natural readhead.

She is a vet; Hoseok met during an emergency with Mickey and after that she was stuck in his mind. Though economically independent, she can’t afford a comfy apartment in the city, that’s why she lives squished in a small three-room apartment; still, she doesn’t mind since cleaning up takes less time and the tiny den seems fitting for her being a tiny human. The only problem with her apartment is that she can't keep any pet, however she wishes she had a cute, fluffy, big cat. She likes thrift-shopping, coloured things and animals. She’s really gentle and has a sparkly, although introverted personality. She’s basically the stereotype of a Hufflepuff.

This girlie is soft, she has the quirkiest sense of fashion and she often wears children clothes since her size is THAT small. Of course Hoseok jokes about it, but secretly he loves it: whenever she gets into his clothes, she looks extra small and he needs to snuggle her like his favourite teddy bear. Yes, she might be in her twenties, no, do not take her Winnie the Pooh onesie away from her. She still watches cartoons (attentively) and enjoys spending her evenings in front of the TV with a Disney or a Studio Ghibli movie.

Nature makes her happy. Hoseok likes making her giggle and smile, therefore he likes doing whatever she likes. He takes her out on picnics, or to pick cherries and strawberries.

She likes animals so whenever she spots a cute pet, Hoseok is more than glad to ask their owner if she can pet them. When she spots a kitty out of her reach she pouts and goes all big, sparkly, sad eyes; of course Hoseok can't stand that and he has often picked her up so she could reach for the kitty and pet it.

She loves cherries and strawberries a whole lot. She might be a vegetarian and her diet is mostly made of fruit and several types of tea and herbal tea. She is addicted to cornflakes and milk.

Publicly, Giggles and Hoseok hold hands a lot, with Hoseok tugging at her hand to pull her into him when he wants her close. Normally you would simply see them trotting like two excited puppies when going on dates, while during official public appearances he would simply catwalk like a model while she ethereally strolls behind him. I see her dressed in lots of chiffon and light, airy fabric, making her look like a fairy floating around him like a spirit of the woods.

Giggles is delicate both emotionally and physically. She hasn’t had meaningful relationships before, only dates and small flings with maybe three or four partners, one of which might have been a friend with benefits, maybe. Her flings were usually calm and quiet, mostly vanilla, and normally they ended because of a lack of chemistry and because those people couldn’t make her feel comfortable enough to let her inner freak out, or simply turned down her propositions to explore and venture into more daring activities. With Hoseok it immediately turns out that they have an excellent connection, his bubbly and sparkly personality meeting her childlike side, but at the same time, his darker, demanding and open-minded persona immediately answering her needs for sexual exploration. Their bodies seem to know each other instinctively from their very first encounter and this kind of “perfect match” based on physicality brings them closer and closer to each other, but also helps them use sex and their bodies to explore each other’s minds. With Hoseok, Giggles gradually discovers several degrees of submission as they both venture into the mechanisms and techniques of BDSM. This shared exploration is the glue of their relationship, but it also creates an intimacy so deep that they manage to completely remove shame from their bond. Hoseok can be ruthless in bed, however Giggles’ girlish nature hides a spine of steel that comes out while undergoing tougher, harsher scenes; still she prefers Hoseok to fondle her verbally and emotionally as he delivers the most vicious treatments. Giggles and Hoseok took a bondage course after both of them discovered a certain interest for this discipline. She is excellent at it: Hoseok trusts her blindly and she is generally more wicked in her use of the lessons; on the other hand, Hoseok uses ropes and knots more often but more gently, paying extra attention to Giggles’ skinny, delicate physique.

In terms of sex positions, Hoseok likes changing a lot. During a round he can go through two or three positions, which sometimes extenuates Giggles. His most recurrent positions are missionary with her legs on his shoulders, doggy, and spoons with her laying on her front; occasionally he might fuck her while standing, hooking one of her legs around his waist, or also making her lay down on her side and lifting her free leg up, pressing it to his chest while he straddles her lower leg and enters her — we all know he can handle the most unbelievable positions and those hips can be pretty cruel with deep strokes and hard and fast thrusts. He is more than willing to make up for his restlessness by pleasing her, especially with his fingers — he can make her squirt easily and likes doing so very often. She is also extremely ticklish: torturing her with ticklers, feathers and fur gloves is a huge turn on for him, however he rewards her plenty with several sessions of oral sex.

Hoseok in bed can be very demanding, both physically and spiritually, therefore she often prefers to be allowed some space during aftercare. He understands and follows her will, quietly leaving for a few minutes to let her calm herself, check the results of their session and clean up. It usually doesn’t take long before she calls for him or actively looks for him, asking him to massage her sore body, or to apply lotion over her skin. Normally, if they engage in a scene before going to sleep, he makes sure she takes mild herbal sleeping pills and water to relax before sleep, to avoid her gritting her teeth in her sleep and having small twitches because of the physical effort, or waking up with painful cramps — after all she is a delicate creature. She prefers having him by her side after making love: he likes showering with her, washing her hair and drying it afterward. Generally he likes cuddles after domming, since he feels vulnerable and he needs to know that he didn’t go too far. He also needs to be reassured with love affirmations, especially since during punishments and certain kinds of (so to say) torture — like sensation play, edging and overstimulation — Giggles might say hurtful things or might have unpleasant reactions such as biting, scratching, trying to escape or in some extreme cases, crying.

During the day or when chilling on the sofa, Giggles likes cuddles. Hoseok often squishes her cheeks and kisses her nose. His most frequent form of cuddles is playing with her hair or nuzzling into it while spooning her. Her hair always smells like flowers. Hoseok lives that. He gives her loads of small kisses, especially on her cheeks, sometimes biting into them since they’re the roundest part of her face. She might have cute, hamster cheeks. Hoseok’s favourite cuddles are her hands in his hair, combing it or massaging his scalp while he rests his head on her stomach or lap. They give each other a lot of kisses — more like playful smooches.

They don’t have a favourite sleeping position, Hoseok is too impatient and shifts a lot in his sleep so he falls asleep as he feels like doing. Normally they sleep simply next to each other: Giggles likes falling asleep while he spoons her and normally she falls asleep first, while Hoseok moves away once she is soundly asleep.

Overall, Giggles is a cute and delicate creature, a gentle soul who is fond of animals and nature; still, she has a kinkier side that matches Hoseok’s experimental one: their bubbly personalities, instinctual communication and sexual needs match perfectly, creating a strong and well-balanced couple.

[the-fox-populi-says]

Written & directed by Fangirl Quarantino

Ao3 has been very Foxphobic in that first I had to wait a whole day for an invite once I decided in the spur of a moment I should really make an account, and then telling me my username did not follow requirements (...it really did?? I swear!). So. Ao3 link might follow when that is fixed but for now, have a direct copy-paste of my latest one-shot. Summary: After an Order meeting runs late during a curfew, Shiro is stuck in Faust Mansion. Mephisto offers to poof him home, but had a few glasses and Shiro does not trust drunk magic. He also doesn't trust drunk opportunist Mephisto conveniently having no guest rooms available, and goes in search of alternative beds. Characters: Shiro, Mephisto, Belial, Ukobach Tags: #There was only one bed #which may have been by design #omg they were curfew mates #adult language #nudity #violence #banter #humour #alcohol #mature #Suggestiveness #no out-right smut #But the Thought is there #and a little #erotic aesphyxiation #never killed anyone #oh wait it did actually #Not this time though #dubious consent #or however you call relocating an unconscious naked person for your amusement but without actually feeling them up #well maybe a little #but with a towel

Enjoy~

“What do you mean, I can't go home?!” Shiro yelled at the unmoved face of the butler.

“Curfew, sir. It's past 9 pm.”

Fuck. That was right- there had been a surge in demon activity lately, and as a counter-measure, the Order had issued a strict no-going-out-after-dark policy. “Oh come on- I'm a professional! Any demon encountering me is in more danger than I am.”

“Even unarmed?” A smug, slightly lilting voice inquired behind his back. Shiro balled his fists, surpressing the urge to use them on the face that voice belonged to.

The same face and voice that had informed him a couple weeks earlier he was no longer allowed to bring firearms to Order meetings. Not since he'd emptied almost an entire magazine into the back of Mephisto's chair after the Osaka incident. Insufficient informants his ass. As if that mission hadn't been payback for the whoopie cushion the week before. As if a round of bullets would even kill the bastard. Wimps.

“Could neither of you have informed me sooner?! I was only sticking around because captain naggy pants over here-” he threw out his entire arm to gesture; “-insisted it would be bad form to leave with all the high-ups still here.”

“Bitte do not yell at my butler- it's not hisch fault you don't know how to use a watch.”

Shiro again considered the use of his fists, but instead opted for a look of Promise over his shoulder at the grinning demon getting up from behind the fancy desk.

“Oh relax, Shiro. I can juscht teleport you home.” “Oh nononono- There will be no. Poofing.” He switched from fists to pointing, and waved a warning finger at Mephisto's raised eyebrows.

“May I ask warum nicht?”

“Because you just had to serve prosecco at your stupid meeting and you have the poorest alcohol tolerance in the world. And a sweet tooth.” The eyebrows shot down, along with the corners of his mouth in an affronted expression.

“I had three glasses!” “Yes, and I can see you swaying from where I stand.”

Not to mention the increased use of German. Shiro folded his arms.

“Last time you looked like that and poofed me somewhere, I ended up in the middle of a rice field because you had sake on your brain.”

Mephisto made a dismissive motion with one hand. With the other he pretended not to grip the edge of the desk for balance.

“I'll juscht concentrate very hard on your apartment, it'll be fine.”

“Oh hell no- I don't wanna end up half inside my shower cabin, or inside a wall. I'm staying here. You have like five hundred rooms anyway.”

He turned around. “Yo Belial, point me to a guest room, would ya.”

No response. The butler looked even stiffer than usual, but bounced his eyes back and forth between the two men as if following a tennis match.

Shiro growled. “What?”

Finally, Belial mustered the courage to speak. “I'm afraid there are currently none available, sir.”

“...What.”

He shot a venomous look at Mephisto, who avoided his gaze and uncharacteristically fumbled with the buttons on his vest.

“I may have... clearedthelaschtonetomakeroomfurmeinecollectionofPokémoncards.”

Of course.

“So make a new one!”

Wrong move. Never order Mephisto around. The somewhat apologetic pout was gone in an instant and replaced by silken lechery.

“Oh now Shiro, you don't want me to use my magic while drunk, do you~?”

“...Seriously.”

“You know, there is another option...” The green eyes briefly slid sideways, returning to the exorcist's face to serve up a very clear and satisfied Suggestion.

Funny, how those three glasses of pink bubbly suddenly seemed to have left his system. Even funnier how there suddenly was a direct, open door from his office to his bedroom.

“...You wish.” Shiro planted his feet firmly on the ground. “Allow me to decline that offer with a resounding Fuck No.”

Mephisto rolled his eyes. “Oh please- I'll likely won't even use it tonight. There's a Voltron marathon on channel 12.”

“Ever heard of the phrase 'tying the cat to the bacon', because that's what me sleeping in your bed would be.”

“You overestimate this cat's interescht in your bacon.”

Waddayaknow. Little bubbly left in there after all. But apparently not so much that he couldn't poof himself into a shimmering baby blue chamber robe.

“Bullshit.” Shiro scoffed. “I've seen you checking out my bacon since the moment it turned legal and probably a good bit before that.”

“Very well.” The demon shrugged, and assumed a leisurely walk towards the pillow nest in front of the tv, with the obvious intent to install himself there for the rest of the night. “You're welcome to find yourself the softest spot of floor, then.”

Shiro sauntered after him, a smirk creeping up on his lips. “Actually, I have a better idea.” The moment Mephisto's satin-clad butt would have touched the pink bean bag, Shiro yoinked it from under him, causing the bony structure to make sudden, harsh contact with the marble tiles.

“Ow! What in-”

“Bed aqcuired. Goodnight.” Bean bag under one arm, Shiro marched off.

Mephisto crawled out of the surrounding pillows, rubbing his back with one hand and carrying murderous intent in his eyes.

“Give that BACK, the show's starting in 2 minutes!”

“If you're so confident about your magic, why don't you make me.”

Wrong move again, yes. But too delectable to pass up on. Shiro grinned, tossing the bean bag back and forth between his hands.

“Unless of course, you feel a bit nervous about your aim while I'm standing right in front of your precious figurine collection.”

A hesitation. Mephisto wavered. Little bubbly left in there after all. ...Dare he? He dared. Shiro stuck out his tongue.

Terrible move. The demon's eyes narrowed, and out of nowhere a yellow rubber ball with red stars flew off a shelf, bounced off the floor and hit Shiro square under the chin. He instantly dropped the bean bag to clasp both hands over his mouth with a pained groan.

“Told you there's nothing wrong with my aim.” A poof, and the bean bag was back in its rightful place: under Mephisto, who took his merry time wiggling himself into the most comfortable position.

“Stop being a crybaby and let me take you home, or enjoy the floor.”

Shiro lowered his hands and scowled at the back of Mephisto's head, and that oh so annoying flippant hand motion illustrating this fight was clearly over and he was the victor. As it should be.

When met with a display that level of self-assured superiority, one can only respond in either of two ways. Admit you lost... Or get petty.

“...Fine, swew you.” Fuck. Difficult to sound convincingly stubborn when his tongue wouldn't work.

“Thewe's bound to be a couch somewhewe. Hey Belial, help me out here, would you.” Finally. “Where's the nearest bed-like structure?”

“Belial, do absolutely not help him.” Asshole didn't even look up, just tapped at the remote.

Belial froze, looking extremely unhappy about being involved in their dispute.

“...Dude, seriously, you're a butler. Helping guests is just as much your job as pampering his childish ass.”

“...” Merely a gaze of concern at his master, and an apologetic look in Shiro's direction, pressing his lips tightly together.

Shiro growled. “Fuckin' bootlicker.”

-Some 25 minutes later-

Mephisto's bedroom doors were thrown open, and a dishevelled Shiro unsteadily leaned against the doorway.

“Back so soon?” Mephisto grinned over his shoulder, a drinking straw clasped tightly between his fangs, but his glee evaporated and he took it out when he caught a better look at the exorcist's state. “What happened?”

Shiro tottered in, bits and pieces falling out of his torn clothes, and rubbing the various cuts on his cheek with the back of his equally mangled hand.

“Wound up in kitchen. Dark. Accidentally knocked over a bowl. Side dish or sum'thin. Ukobach did not appreciate. Told him to calm down. Rain of pasta. You wouldn't believe how sharp uncooked penne can be.”

“Tragic.” The grin returned. “Try not to bleed on any fabrics if you're going to take refuge in here.”

Heartwarming. Shiro was too worn out to dig up some choice insults, but addressed Mephisto with the foulest look he could still muster.

The demon chuckled. “...Or perhaps, just let me send you home?”

Silence. There was probably no alcohol in the glittery cinema soda cup, but who was to say for sure. Also, leaving the mansion somehow felt like a greater defeat than staying in Mephisto's room. Like he hasn't just lost the battle, but was too afraid to even remain on the battlefield.

The demon kept his eyes fixated at the colourful robots on the tv screen, but his ears were perked up attentively, waiting for Shiro's response. When that failed to happen, he closed his eyes and gave another nudge-

“...Or use what might arguably be the best bed in the world~”

Bait? Definitely. But also a lifeline. Shiro bit.

“You mean that bed you do God knows what in? Yuck, no thanks.”

Dramatic sigh for effect before deigning to look him in the eye. “Have you met me? My bed is clean, I assure you.”

Shiro smirked. Such a diva. And a dweeb. “Yeah alright, you probably only ever hump anime pillows anyway.”

The corners of his mouth curled upwards. “Justify your choice however you like, Shiro-pon.”

Boxers and t-shirt wouldn't be too bacon-y for the cat, right? Not while there were still mechas on tv to distract it, at least. Shiro began peeling off his tattered clothes, until Mephisto's ears twitched at the click of his belt unbuckling and he turned sharply towards the exorcist.

“...Excuse me, what do you think you're doing?”

Shiro kicked off his pants and flipped back the blankets. “Using your goddamn bed. Happy now?”

“Absolutely not. Get out.”

What. Shiro stared at the piqued face in disbelief.

“...Are you for real? What the fuck is it now?! In the bed, not in the bed, get in, go away-”

“Oh, you're welcome to sleep in my bed.” Mephisto squinted eyes slid up and down over Shiro's post pasta-fight body and the dirty clothes on the floor in a most disapproving manner. “AFTER you take a shower.”

Shiro's shoulders dropped. “...Really now?”

“Like I said.” He decidly turned back to the screen. “I like my bed clean.”

Shiro had no doubt the demon could sense the middle finger aimed at his back, but there were no bouncing balls or other items interfering with his gesture while he strode into the bathroom and yanked a towel out of the closet.

Frankly, it was not exactly a terrible ordeal to use Mephisto's shower. If he hadn't been that tired, be might have opted to wait for the bath to fill up instead- he eyed the pool-sized structure with a mixture of envy and disgust. Filthy rich bastard.

Filthy rich bastard with a royally equipped shower cabin, though. Shiro turned the knob and waited for the water from the various shower heads to heat up, when a voice from the bedroom yelled over the sound of the streams: “You better not use my expensive shower gel!”

Shiro sighed. “Which one?! They all seem expensive!” They probably were.

“...The gold and pink bottle. Do not touch it.”

Definitely touching it, he picked it up and turned it around in his hand. “Oh lord save me, you know how much I'd like to smell like- vanilla tenderness?? ...Is that how you lure in prey?”

“I'll have you know the ladies love it.”

Shiro snickered. “Oh, I don't doubt that. On them.”

“You bet they do~” The smug retort came drifting from under the door.

Shiro shook his head.

“Are you sure they can't sue you for false advertising, cuz there is nothing vanilla nor tender about you.”

“How would you know?”

...Walked straight into that one.

“...Care to find out~?”

“Eat my ass.”

“Maybe after you washed it.”

Shiro didn't know it was possible to choke on your own tongue while standing. Thank God or whomever that the demon couldn't see how red his face was- though judging by the giggling noises, the shower wasn't enough to drown out his coughing fit.

“Really, you are so wonderfully talented at putting your own foot in your mouth, Shiro~”

“Keep it up and I'll put my foot in your mouth!” He scowled, stepping into the shower while Mephisto burst out in a full-blown laughing fit, fuck knows why. Shiro shrugged it off. This was probably one of those better-off-not-knowing times.

Ah, such a wonderful story~ Heroism, friendship, impossible odds, fantastic machinery... The show had ended and Mephisto zapped away from the commercial break to search for something more interesting. Hm, not much, this late. He shook his cup, the decorative re-useable plastic ice cubes rattling about. All out of drinks. Snacks too. Maybe switch to other entertainment. Come to think of it...

He turned towards the bathroom door. He could hear the water still going. How long had he been in there by now? Five episodes? Seven?

“...As much as I appreciate cleanliness, don't you think you're overdoing it just a scooch?”

No response.

“Don't go telling me you dropped the soap and need help finding it.”

Still nothing. No change in sound whatsoever. Not even one of Deliberately Ignoring You. Odd.

Mephisto rose from his pillow nest and knocked on the bathroom door.

“...Shiro?”

Nothing but the running water. And a strange, light ...grating sound? He opened the door.

“I'd suggest you make yourself decent, but given how much water you're using as well as your general behaviour today that is word obviously not in your dic-”

Oh. Oh dear.

Semi-sitting on the floor of the shower cabin, slouched into a corner, was one sleeping exorcist. Mildy snoring.

Mephisto cocked his head. Strangely adorable, but also annoying. He briefly studied the naked, scratched-up figure. Not a bad look, not at all~ But too easy.

He sighed, and peeled one of his sleeves back to turn off the water. Honestly, rude. He should ask Belial to take care of it. On the other hand... being this troublesome warranted some payback. Payback that would take some effort, but be so much more satisfying than just turning on the cold water right now. Especially since Shiro was known to have a habit of getting violent when woken up suddenly. He didn't fancy risking a cold shower as well. Plus, the mere idea of the face Shiro would make when- He snickered. Yes, a much a more rewarding idea. He snapped his fingers.

“Hmmnnggh...” Shiro rolled over, the filtered light making him vaguely aware that it was morning. He hadn't slept this well in ages, and wasn't planning on letting it end just yet. He pulled the sheets along with him. Comfy. His bed wasn't usually this comfy. Smelled different, too. Did he use a new a laundry detergent? Nope, nope- do not get tricked into thinking just yet. That would wake him. Back to sleep. Savour it.

He pulled the sheets a little more, intent on going full burrito mode. Hm. A little stuck. He groaned at the incooperative blanket, and gave a better yank.

“Don't hog all the covers, please.”

A more effective waking method than a needle in his butt. Shiro shrieked -much to his embarassment- and bolted out of bed. A bed, he now realized, was indeed not of his usual comfort level. In several ways. His embarassment rose even higher when he met the incredibly satisfied eyes of the creature inhabiting the bed. Mephisto's face was about sixty percent teeth as he soaked up the image of the severely shocked man, who was still coming to terms with the fact that no, this was not still part of a nightmare, he was, in fact, awake.

And naked.

Upon that realization, Shiro's brain short-cirquited so completely he did not even attempt to cover himself up. Instead, he just froze, blinking fervently as if hoping the next time he opened his eyes, the lecherous monster, half-dressed in an untied silk gown and lying there as if posing for his portrait as a Roman emperor, would somehow have disappeared.

It took a couple minutes -or hours, by Shiro's reckoning- for the demon to get his fill of this view and bestow the smallest amount of mercy upon him.

“As much as I'd love to hang up a story about tequila, I'm afraid you just fell asleep in the shower. So I dried you off and placed you in here.”

Shiro rebooted.

“You... dried me off??”

“Wouldn't want my best exorcist to catch a cold- or soak my sheets.”

Lanes reopened, the backed-up thought traffic in Shiro's head now started honking impatiently to gain first access to his mouth.

“And you- I- but- it didn't- occur to you- that you could have just WOKEN ME UP?!”

“Frankly I hoped you would wake while I was toweling you off, hovering six feet off the floor... But as usual, you were disappointing.”

Mephisto managed to shrug leaning on one elbow, resting his jaw in his hand. He did not quite manage to look genuinely disappointed.

“You really should work on your comedic timing.”

Shiro's face was bright red, but no longer with embarassment. He was seething, fists and jaw clenched, his white bed hair sticking up as steam rising from his forehead.

“I. am not. your entertainment.”

Mephisto grinned. “Aww, no need to throw in the towel just yet~” His eyes glanced down. “You've got such potential, Shiro...”

WHACK. Instead of a towel, Shiro chose to throw in a pillow. And his full weight and strength to press it over Mephisto's face.

-Epilogue-

Oof. Goodness. Mephisto remained lying down, running a system check on his body. Everything was still there and working, it seemed, but he really should not have let Shiro have his little revenge for quite so long. He had to admit he underestimated the man's strength and how long it would take for his body to pass out from lack of oxygen. Too sidetracked by certain pleasant side-effects, perhaps. He should be more careful about that- Shiro probably hadn't noticed, or he might have indeed woken up with certain parts missing. Or at least damaged. Something still seemed wrong, though. Cold. He sat upright on the mattress. But not in his bed. Or bed chamber.

He blinked. Then shivered. As one tends to do when one wakes up soaking wet, outside. Because someone had dragged the entire mattress, demon included, out to the balcony. In the rain.

“...Oh REAL mature, Shiro!”

He teleported indoors, into a warm, fluffy bath gown, and stared at his expensive mattress through the glass doors of his bedroom. Blasted exorcist. Still...

He summoned his phone, flipped it open, and smiled at his new background picture. Dozens of carefully arranged plushies, and in the middle-

“...Best toy I ever had.”

~The end~

AUTHOR'S NOTES

Curfew: Not at all Corona-inspired~ But isolation makes no sense from an exorcism point of view. However, most demons in canon prefer the dark, so when there's an increase in numbers/reported attacks, a curfew is a logical counter-measure to protect the population. And since exorcists aren't supposed to work alone (*casts stern look at Shiro*), only teams on mission would have permission to walk around at night.

Poor alcohol tolerance & increased German: I strongly headcanon Mephisto's host body is in fact that of the original Faust, and it reverting back to its mother tongue when its language cortex is compromised somehow. I also strongly headcanon all strong demons having an insanely fast metabolism, going by the way Mephisto & Amaimon are always snacking yet skeletal, and this got in fact sort of confirmed by the recent manga chapter where Shiro complains about it in regards to baby Rin. So Mephisto gets drunk easily, but it also wears off rather quickly, unless he keeps drinking.

Don't drink and do magic/ rice fields: For more information, read The End of the Beginning by Superior Dimwit, arc 2: Inferno, chapter 39.

Tying the cat to the bacon: this is a literal translation of a Dutch expression. I cannot justify how exactly Shiro got to know about it, but I sure as fuck can justify its use here. It just fits too well.

Yellow rubber ball with red stars: Also known as a Dragon Ball, of course.

Ukobach: I know he hasn't shown up in the manga (yet), but this is one of those very rare times (maybe the only time) where I think the anime changed something for the better, and there is a good chance Kato is the one who told them the name in the first place, since it's an actual known demon. Either way, Mephisto should totally have some mad monkey five-star chef, in my opinion.

The thing about feet you're better off (not) knowing: Words can have interesting double meanings in other languages. For more information, read chapter 17 of Between the End and the Beginning, once more by Superior Dimwit. Technically, you could argue that the majority of mankind has a foot fetish.

Dropping the soap: I trust everyone to know this one. If not, google it at your own risk.

Violent awakenings: Based on Shiro punching little Shura in the face when she kissed his forehead while he was napping.

Pleasant side-effects of lack of oxygen can include popping a boner and light-headed euphoria. Especially when there's a naked exorcist on top of you. Shiro was right: false advertising indeed.

Plushies & pictures: Y'all remember Rin waking up in Mephisto's bed after going full demon mode in the manga? Although he may have sent his butler to pick up the kid and had the common decency to not him in there naked as he did with Shiro in this fic, there were a number of plushies surrounding Rin when he woke up. All facing up and some placed on top of him. Meaning that they didn't accidentally rolled their way there as he tossed and turned in his sleep- someone definitely placed them there. Cute for now, blackmail for later. Always handy.

[selfindulgentpoorlywritten]

It’s Nice (Carter Hart Imagine)

This was written AND edited in a hypomanic blur so like. I’m pretty sure there are real words involved, but I make no promises.

Rating: T

Pairing: Carter Hart/Reader

Words: 3429

Warnings: food, pet(s), talk of children

Requested: yes / no

Summary: Just an average evening with Carter, except not really average at all.

The meal plan the nutritionist had made is indisputably for a professional athlete, with the number of calories and sheer mass of protein it calls for. It had taken some trial and error, but you’d figured out a way to adjust it to fit your own needs in a way that didn’t mean twice the cooking. You’re probably the only reason Carter even kind of sticks to it, because he’s inclined to make whatever’s easiest (or just order out, if he’s especially tired), so having you around to cook for the two of you keeps him more or less on track.

Right now, you’re finishing up dinner. All you have to do is let the chicken simmer and occasionally spoon some sauce onto it from the pan to make sure it doesn’t dry out. Most of your attention is focused on the other pan, where you’re just cooking some chicken to use over the next few days, to save time and make sure it doesn’t spoil. Dinner had been a bit of a mess tonight, honestly. You’d used the last lemon yesterday, so it was lucky you had a (questionably old) bottle of lemon juice in the fridge to replace it. The recipe called for half-and-half, which you never have in the house, so you’d just substituted milk and used the meal plan to justify it. You’d forgotten the tongs were all in the dishwasher, so now you’re doing your best to flip and handle the chicken with a spoon. And to top it off, you’re cat-sitting for your friend, and Harri hasn’t given you one moment of rest since you first brought out the meat. You’ve spent the better part of 45 minutes pushing her away from the raw-- and then cooked-- chicken breasts every five seconds.

“Ma’am,” you scold, pushing her away yet again, “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to stop.” You have no idea where the habit of calling pets “sir” and “ma’am” came from, but you’ve done it for quite a while. It usually makes people laugh when they hear it, so it’s not a habit you’re trying to break. Finally, you deem the last batch of chicken done, so you push Harri back again, grabbing the skillet by the handle and moving it closer to the plate on the counter to hopefully minimize spillage.

“Holy fuck!” you don’t-quite-shout, literally jumping a bit in surprise. You would swing around to confront the person who’d grabbed you from behind, but they’re holding fast. Carter is holding fast. He’s pretty much the only person who can sneak up on you, despite being objectively large for a human. When you first started dating, he would laugh when he managed to surprise you; now he just smiles into your neck and gently sways the two of you side-to-side. Leaving the spoon in the pan, you use your now-free hand to smack one of his forearms.

“Maybe don’t sneak up on me when I have a hot pan in my hands, next time,” you say, trying to sound annoyed and definitely not succeeding. Yes, he should absolutely be more mindful of danger when he surprises you, but also consider: he’s adorable and you love him.

“I’m sorry,” he replies, genuine at first, before you can feel his smile turn to a smirk against your skin and hear his voice gain a mischievous edge, “Guess I’ll have you make it up to you somehow.” You roll your eyes, even though he can’t see it. You kick backward at his ankle.

“Let me finish dinner, you menace,” you say, craning your neck so you can kiss him hello despite your words. Once he’s gotten his kiss he backs off, hoisting himself up to sit on the counter. You would’ve gotten reprimanded for that when you were a kid, but this is your apartment, both of yours, so you can sit on the counter all you want. Take that, mom.

“How was your day?” he asks. You start telling him a bit about it, just a summary, saving the details for the dinner table. It’s odd being certain that he’s actually listening, actually cares about what you have to say. It’s nice.

The pre-cooked chicken covered and safely tucked in the fridge, you separate tonight’s food onto two plates, his significantly more full than yours. He hops off the counter and takes his plate, walking around the counter with you. You sit across from each other at the small wooden table, eating as you talk about your days in more detail. It’s not quite pre-season yet, still the tail-end of conditioning camp. That means he has more time to spend with you, but less to do during the day, which translates to less to talk about at dinner. Luckily, you’ve gotten pretty good at keeping the conversation going; asking both leading and specific questions to get more information out of him. You don’t really need to know any of it, but you like listening to him talk and knowing what’s going on in his life. Plus, taking an interest in his life always makes him happy.

Once you’ve both finished eating, he takes your plate with his own and brings them to the sink. It doesn’t bother you that you’re the chef of the relationship, because he carries his weight around the house in other ways. You cook, he does the dishes, you do the laundry, he cleans the bathroom and floors, and so on. There’s a balance here that you haven’t experienced before. It’s nice. 

It’s your turn to sit on the counter, continuing to chat while he rinses the dishes and loads them into the dishwasher, gathering the pots and pans from cooking and doing the same with them. With that taken care of, you hop off the counter and walk with him into the living room. You settle down on the couch, feet up on the ottoman, and he situates himself so he can lean into your side with his too-long legs taking up the third cushion. You’ve been bingeing a new series on Hulu, so you click your way through the requisite settings until you can press play on the correct episode.

Usually, you tend to be a bit restless. Sitting through an entire episode of a show used to be an impossible task, and you’d get up every five minutes to clean something or set something up or fix something. But with Carter snuggled up into you, hand on your outstretched thigh, breathing steady, sitting still for an hour seems like nothing. You’d sit still ‘til the end of eternity so long as Carter was close.

Plus the part where Harri is curled up on your shins, which doesn’t seem comfortable (but she’s a cat so who knows), and you’re pretty sure its a federal offense to disturb a sleeping animal.

    You watch two episodes, mindful of your self-imposed bedtime. The two of you make comments throughout, half of it critiquing certain aspects of the plot or composition, the other half just going “WHAT? WHAT THE FUCK?” and commenting on how hot Karl Urban is. You’ve never had a relationship, intimate or otherwise, where you didn’t have to hold in your thoughts and reactions. It’s nice.

    The second episode ends on a bit of a cliffhanger, but you join forces to talk yourselves out of watching another. The next will probably end on a cliffhanger too, ‘cause that’s how they keep you watching, so there’s really no point in watching any more right now. If you give in, you’ll most likely end up staying up way too late watching “just one more” and regretting it in the morning. Eventually, you resolutely turn the TV off and shove Carter off you. He whines and groans but heaves himself off the couch to follow you toward the bedroom.

    You brush your teeth before washing and moisturizing your face. Unfortunately you don’t have a double vanity, so most of the time is spent hip-checking each other out of the way and playfully trash talking around toothbrushes and Carter accidentally spitting toothpaste on your hand. Which isn’t unfortunate at all, really, because it’s lighthearted and domestic and fun. Plus, the limited space means he has to stay close by your side, radiating heat better than any furnace and casually brushing against you here and there. Or at least he has an excuse to. So he’ll bump your hips together to push you out of the way, even though he doesn’t really need the sink at the moment, a foamy grin on his face; then casually brush your shoulders together ten seconds later, smile gone gentle and fond. When you two had first started dating, every touch would feel thrillingly electric; now it just feels warm and safe. You’d take more than some spitty toothpaste to the hand for this.

    “We’re supposed to be calming down, not getting riled up,” you scold him as you continue to harass each other, but you’re smiling too much to really sound peeved. Carter puts one hand on your waist-- thumb stretching upward enough to be suggestive-- and cups your jaw with the other, and you just cleaned that, come on.

    “Oh, I’ll rile you up,” he purrs, shuffling further into your space and stroking his thumb along your ribcage. His tone makes something twist in your stomach, his usually light eyes dark and his gaze heavy when you meet it. Maybe dating the most gorgeous man in the world has some downsides. Like him seducing you in the bathroom when you literally just washed up.

    “You’re such a fuck boy,” you force out, reaching up to playfully push him away by the face.

    “Hey!” he objects, though he does step back and remove his hands, “I’m a himbo, if anything!” No matter how much you regret teaching him that word, it’s still funny as fuck to hear, and you break out laughing. He laughs with you for a minute, and you’re basically doubled over with it as he weakly attempts to assert that “it’s not funny, I’m serious” around giggles. Once you can finally breathe again and have wiped the tears from your eyes, he steps back into your space to press a kiss to your lips, lingering for a few breathless moments. Finally, he exhales, minty-fresh air fanning over your lips. You let out the breath you were holding too, lips tingling, temptation building as you open your eyes and take in the look of raw want on his face.

    Just as you’re about to succumb to the pull in your stomach, he moves away. Tease. Well, not really, ‘cause you had rebuffed his advances already, so he was really just respecting your boundaries. But he didn’t have to be so goddamn sexy all the time, okay? Hell, when you first met, you’d thought he was just an adorable little sweetheart, not anticipating how he could apparently flip a switch to become the most alluring (beguiling, tempting, bewitching, captivating…) man you’d ever encountered. So of course, 99% of his charm was being cute and lovable; except when he had you (at least mostly) alone and turned into a fucking incubus. Or maybe you’re a little biased, what with being in love with him, and all. Anyway.

    Back in the bedroom proper, you change into your usual sleepwear, taking a bit longer than you would when you lived alone with how much time you’re spending blatantly staring at Carter. Hey, he’s your boyfriend, you’re allowed to appreciate him, okay? And you’re totally allowed to stare at his ass in those tight boxer-briefs as he leads the way through to the living room. Dating privileges.

    It’s routine now, to go make a cup of tea before returning and curling up in your chair to continue reading your latest book. Meanwhile, Carter stretches out on the couch with his phone and laptop, checking out whatever videos or memos the team and staff have suggested (or “suggested”) and skimming any new stats. Everyone says you shouldn’t look at any type of screen before bed, but it never seems to keep him from falling asleep, so you don’t bother him about it.

You’d almost forgotten about Harri until she jumps into your lap, curling up in a position that can’t be comfortable, purring despite it. She purrs like a motorboat, vibrating against your legs and making enough noise to distract you from reading. Luckily for her, it’s cute rather than annoying. You scratch behind her ears and down her spine, in response to which she somehow manages to purr even louder. When you look up, Carter has shifted so he can watch you, a small smile on his face.

“What?” you ask, catching his contagious smile. He just smiles wider.

“We should get a pet,” he says. It’s kind of a big deal.

Living together is one thing; you can always move out if things go south, no harm no foul. But bringing a living being into the situation is a serious commitment, and you both knew it. Saying you should get a pet together is saying he sees a future with you, and is sure enough about it that he’s willing to bet another life on it.

“So I can take care of it and you get to be the cool dad who gives it treats whenever you’re home?” you ask, mostly rhetorically. He knows you’re okay with being the primary caretaker, you knew that would be the case going into this relationship, and you don’t begrudge him the limitations of his job. The question has always been whether he could handle being away from a pet as often as he has to. If he could handle not having a straight month home outside the summer, coming home from a game exhausted and still needing to be an involved pet parent, potentially missing milestones, not being there for first steps or words or-- okay, maybe getting a pet is really just a way of preparing for a child. Maybe the two of you have discussed that a pet would be the next step, and this is him saying he’s ready for a trial run, and though you’ve always been the one who’s ready to commit, you’re maybe a little more nervous than you’ve let on.

“Y/N,” he says, shifting again so he’s sitting upright facing you, looking you dead in the eye, “I’m ready to be the best dad I can. If you’re not ready-- for a pet-- that’s okay.” He’s so sincere, brows furrowed and mouth turned in a half-smile, “We can wait, if that’s what you need. I’ll wait as long as you need.” You’re not sure how to respond to such consideration, not sure how to process the fact that you’re not afraid when he stands and walks toward you, that you feel safe even as he looms above you because it’s Carter and you know he’d never hurt you. Not like “know”, where you try to convince yourself he wouldn’t but can’t quite get there, but actually know, 100%, that he wouldn’t. And not only that he wouldn’t hurt you, but that he’ll actually protect you, and care for you, and keep you safe. That you’re not on your own anymore. It’s nice.

“But,” he says, carefully kneeling in front of your chair and giving Harri a pet before continuing, “I’m ready when you are.” Okay. That’s. This is. Okay.

Maybe you’re not ready. But maybe you’ll never be ready. Maybe no one is ever ready to get a pet or have kids or commit wholly to another person. But maybe you just have to do it. It’s never the right time, but if there’s no perfect moment, that means it’s always the perfect moment. You can make it the right time. You want to.

“Dog or cat?” you ask, letting a smile break out on your face in tandem with his. He kneels up and leans over Harri to kiss you, slow and sweet but still distinctly excited. You’re really going to do this.

You debate the merits of Cat vs. Dog for a bit, before returning to your respective reading. Around 10:30, you return your book to the table and nudge Harri off of you, ruffling Carter’s hair as you pass by into the kitchen to get a glass of water. On your way back through to the bedroom, you haul him off the couch despite his protests and pull him along to bed. One of the unsung benefits of dating a millionaire athlete? He insisted on a bed that might actually be made of magic and fairy tears. Something far out of your solo price range.

The both of you plug in your phones and double-check your alarms for tomorrow morning, checking any last messages and shooting out any final responses. You climb into bed first, lying on your back just a smidge right from the middle. Carter follows, crawling under the covers to curl up against your left side. His head is a solid weight on your chest and he whines when you reach over to cut off the lamp on the bedside table. If he doesn’t want to be jostled, he should learn to wait before cuddling.

You settle back into place, running your fingers through his hair to placate him. He just burrows in even closer, plastering your bodies together with a leg slung over your hip and arm around your waist. His hair is soft against your skin, smooth as it passes through your fingers. When you scratch his scalp a bit, he hums in contentment. Despite being so big, he always makes himself small here, like he spends so much time having to be a wall that he simply crumbles when he’s around you.

After an indeterminate amount of time, he wiggles against you, nudging his head against your hand. It had stilled against his scalp a while ago, but now you resume scratching and stroking. His pleased hum warms you through and through, making something in your chest swell happily. After what can be no more than thirty seconds, he follows the hum with an indignant noise that you’re not quite sure how to explain, but definitely understand. You sigh.

“Alright, alright,” you concede, taking another deep breath. He always loves when you do this; god only knows why. It always makes you feel vaguely embarrassed but mostly appreciated, and you’re not sure why you always put up this token resistance, but that’s the way it goes. Honestly, it’s probably out of simple habit at this point. Maybe a little bit because you were raised to be a tad too humble, and this feels show-off-ish, despite being a performance for an audience of one.

Another intent inhale, and you start to sing. Carter never cares what you sing, he just likes to hear your voice as he falls asleep sometimes. Occasionally, he’ll have a request, if he’s gotten obsessed with a new song. Once in a while, usually after a tough loss or a hard day, he’ll ask you to sing something comforting (usually a few somethings comforting, since it tends to be more difficult for him to fall asleep those days). Tonight he just wants to hear you, to know you’re there with him, to know you love him enough to sing contrary to your reservations just because it makes him happy. Tonight, you want him to know how you love him so much more than that, so much more than you can express in word or deed, to know that you’re ready when he is.

Gin Wigmore isn’t exactly known for love songs, but she really hit it out of the park with Don’t Stop, as far as you’re concerned. You’re doing a softer rendition, not bothering to attempt her signature rasp, letting the words almost run together rather than cutting them harshly like her. It’s more a serenade than anything, something rounded and smooth to help the both of you sleep. You could do this forever, you think; spend every evening of the rest of your life with Carter, eating and talking and bumping hips at the sink and falling asleep surrounded by the warmth of his body. You want to do this forever. To be the one he comes home to and for that to be a good thing. As his breathing evens out to the sound of your voice and his fingertips go lax against your ribcage, you’re starting to think you just might get it.

[maviemesregles]

Once I was an Eagle

The third chapter is here, folks! :) The story unfolds itself slowly but surely. (NSFW)

A shoutout to my lovely beta @eclecticstarlightconnoisseur <3 Thank you for sharing this journey with me and for your kind words of encouragement.

So from now on, you guys don't have to bear with my mistakes any longer :)

❤

As always it’s available on AO3.

Chapter I: The beginnings

Chapter II: Sassenach

CHAPTER III: Catharsis

Mess was something I was afraid of. I remember my mother always saying that sometimes I'm too emotional and irrational. So I've learned how to be organized and keep everything in order, including my emotions. I had to. I was a surgeon and could not allow my feelings or temper overtake me. Claire Beauchamp who knows what to do. Years of learning made me a perfect example of a control freak. I could be a coach giving lessons on how to hold your shit together. But, it was a facade, a mask put on for work and strangers, for the patients who needed to have a Dr. Beauchamp who has everything under control. My true nature did not always correspond with the show I tried to sell.

Since I bumped into that tall Scot, the last little thread I held over my inner world was slipping out of my fingers. Then there was a law of inertia. I was balancing on the edge before falling down to the abyss of the unknown.

I returned home with an unsatisfied ache in my belly, between my thighs, behind my closed eyelids, and on my swollen kissed lips. I jumped into the hot shower furiously scrubbing down myself to wash off the smell of the pub, the street, (and his cologne that traveled with me home) off my skin. I've spent a good twenty minutes standing under the shower trying to reclaim the power over the situation that was running away from me as quickly as the water into the drain below my feet. I inhaled and exhaled (the way they taught us at yoga classes which Geillis made me go).

My fingers traced the bottom lip where I could still taste him. Get a grip, Beauchamp.

When I just crossed the threshold, Geillis's number was shining on my screen before I even could take shoes off of my aching feet. "I hoped ye willna pick up." She mumbled mouth fulll, chewing on something crispy.

"Ye did so I reckon yer not with him?"

"Nah".

"Was he that bad?"

I shook my head as if she could see me. 

"No, not at all. At the beginning of the evening, I couldn't guess if he's just a confident prick who's trying to get into my knickers or not but now I don't know." 

After a detailed description of the date to Geillis, I strolled down to the bathroom. “Maybe he didn't like me?" I asked thoughtfully, trying to get rid of mascara that has imprinted into the delicate skin, which now was turning red.

"He'd better get into yer knickers"  Geillis snorted. "But I think the lad likes ye well enough, only he has decided to teach ye a lesson after Lallybroch or he's being a gentleman. If he wanted to get ye laid he'd done it this evening."

“Is it a good or bad thing?" I asked pulling my jeans down.

"I dinna ken. I'd say ye invite this Jamie over to dinner and see for yourself".

Grabbing Adso under my armpit on the way to the bedroom, my phone came alive with a loud ringing (Jesus, I have to change that ringtone). Already planning what I might say to Geillis (remembering all swear words I knew) I almost pressed Accept but stopped right in time, seeing "James" on the screen. I stared at my cell phone long enough to read now "Missed call".

I had texted him while in the cab "Home. Safe and sound." He replied what appeared in a second "Good. It was a bonnie evening."

I crossed my legs sitting at the end of the bed, watching Adso bury himself under the duvet. Why has he called?

I spent about ten minutes before my fingers finally hit the Call button.

"Jamie?"

"Claire"

He said my name in a way that made my toes curl and my heart race a marathon. The soft vibrating "R" and a hint of an accent turned just Claire into something more special than I could imagine.

 I heard a quiet rustling of the sheets and his quiet breathing before I spoke. That made me wonder how he looked in bed. Did he sleep on the right or left side of the bed? Was he a light sleeper or not? What did he dream?

"Is something amiss?" I bent my neck holding the phone between my ear and shoulder.

"No. Just wanted to hear ye voice again."

"Oh." I gasped. I bit down on my lip but nonetheless could see a stupid smile on my face reflecting in the window.

"I dinna wake ye, Sassenach?" I heard him shift, getting comfortable and tried to imagine what he looked like. Was he tangled into the mass of bed sheets and blanket, sitting upright in the dim bedside light. Or maybe laying down, one hand up, elbow supporting his head, chest rising and falling with his quiet breathing.

"No. I was just getting ready for bed."

Adso's grey head popped out of the duvet. My companion looked at me tentatively and climbed up onto my knees with a loud "Meow."

"Ye have a cat?” I was sure I could hear him smile.

"Uh uh". I mumbled stroking Adso's furry back.

There was a pause for what seemed an eternity before Jamie asked quietly.

"Can I meet the wee cheetie?"

* * *

That night, Jamie and I had agreed on what he simply called "a real date" I could not sleep. I was vaguely aware of the lonely cars passing down the streets, drunk gangs of students singing and screaming in the park across the way, I could hear my neighbour's TV speaking. I fell asleep by 5 am feeling absolutely drained. I took extra shifts for the next couple of days (to clear my head from him) and felt thoroughly exhausted. So now when my phone buzzed, I startled almost kicking a cup of Earl Grey off the table.

"What's yer drink of choice, Sassenach?"

"Make it wine. Red"  I quickly typed back rushing to my fridge. (what goes with red wine? Geillis and I never had this problem mixing up takeaway of all kind with a bottle of red)

"Sorted. 7pm, right?"

"See you."

"xoxo"

My cheeks blossomed into a rosy pink while I giggled at his last text. Adso glared at me from his windowsill perch, shook his head, licked his paw twice and jumped off heading to his bowl. That brought me back to my earlier task of the day to think of the menu for tonight. I had to fight an urge just to order from my favorite Italian restaurant and pretend I prepared it all. "Christ." I hissed examining the shelves of the refrigerator. Old curry takeaway, Brie cheese which was probably out of date, some leftovers from my attempt at the pumpkin soup and a pack of milk.

Next two hours I've spent tidying up my entire flat, doing several loads of laundry, changing the bedsheets to fresh crisp ones, and hiding away my Ikea plushy teddy bear that Joe got me last birthday as a joke. The kitchen was scrubbed down until the counters shone and all fridge food remains were thrown into the rubbish bin. Lighting scented candles that lived on the coffee table in the living room, I caught myself thinking I'm trying too hard.

Jamie would step into the house of Dr. Beauchamp - organized, clean and ordered. He wouldn't see two weeks piles of laundry needed to be done, he would not open the fridge and close it deciding to call a takeaway because he'd realize I'm a terrible cook. Jamie wouldn't laugh at me for sleeping with a toy in bed, nor he wouldn't know about the existence of "snack basket" full of crisps and Gummies next to my couch. He wouldn't know who Claire really is. Or would he? Did I want him to know?

After paying for the Waitrose delivery, I occupied kitchen with an unusual enthusiasm that didn't last long. I was a nervous wreck. My attempt at pasta Carbonara came out as someone's morning sickness and was sent straight into the trash. Cursing and praying to all existing Gods at once I've reminded myself that I wanted to keep this easy and fun. So pizza was the choice. Something that was hard for me to fail I still went through the recipe for the dough with surgeon precision. Popping the tomato sauce, spinach and white chunks of mozzarella on top, I glanced at the clock. Feeling the sweat sticky fabric of my shirt clinging to my back I sent pizza tray to the oven hoping Jamie likes Margherita. With Adso purring at my legs, I rushed to the shower mentally thanking myself for washing my hair the day before. Ten minutes later, wrapped up in a towel I was welcomed with a delicious smell of pizza lingering in my kitchen and satisfied with the outcome left to the bedroom.

The sudden doorbell buzz caught me just in the middle of dressing up. Hair looked as if an explosion happened on my head, with the only moisturizer on my skin while I huffed and puffed pulling on old jeans (the ones that lost all their blue from many washings). Grabbing the first jumper that fell out of the wardrobe and dragging it over my head on the way to open a door I prayed that Jamie wouldn't be all dressed up for the occasion. (why did he come twenty-five minutes earlier?)

My heart hammered in my chest and I had to take a few deep breaths trying to appear composed. He was casual. A simple white t-shirt with a leather jacket, the same tartan scarf, and jeans that looked as old as mine.

“I’m here.” His voice sounded low and hoarse.

“You are.” I swallowed a lump in my throat that seemed to suffocate me.

We stood in an awkward silence that stretched between us as the thousands of days, hours, minutes not spent together (yet?)

“Will ye let me in, Sassenach? I’ll freeze my bollocks off out here.” He smiled, the little wrinkles covered the sides of his eyes as the sun rays. I think I heard something in my heart shift.

The cold wind reached my bare feet and I moved aside just a little, letting him through. The familiar smell of his perfume (sea salt, amber wood and Italian cost) wrapped up around me when Jamie leaned to plant a kiss on my cheeks. One on the left, one on the right. I caught myself rising on my tiptoes for him as if I were a cat arching its back into his touch. Somehow it felt much more intimate than our full-mouth-greedy-tongues pub encounter. I watched him taking his jacket off, removing his boots and exclaiming happily “There ye are, wee cheetie” when Adso popped his grey head from the corner and strolled down to Jamie sniffing his hands. I leaned my back against the door thinking that it felt right. James Fraser in my apartment, crouched down on my floor, petting my cat who’s now was purring away. For a second there I wondered how it would feel to be touched by those hands. (is it normal to be jealous of your own cat?)

"I've made pizza. I did not know what you like." I announced, popping a cheesy slice on his plate, licking the grease glistening on my fingers. If it wasn't me kissing him just a couple days ago and flirting away then now I would have been very much offended by the look he gave me. As if he was ready to eat me alive right there, right now.

His gaze softened. (has anyone else on Earth had eyes this blue?)

"It's perfect. I couldna imagine a better option for a dinner than pizza".

It felt easy with him. There were minutes we ate in companionable silence, and minutes when we spoke, "clink-clink" of wine glasses interrupting our voices.

"So, I know horses are your hobby.But you still did not tell what it is you do for a living?" I looked at him over the rim of my glass. I watched him lick his lips, setting his pizza aside.

"I have a wee business with my uncles." Jamie took a sip, his Adam's apple bobbing under the skin as he swallowed. "It's a small beer brewery. Nothing verra special but sufficient enough."

"Beer is it?" I smirked. "I would think a Scot like you should be involved in the whisky business."

He grinned, glass in his hand, cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink.

"Well, I'm verra good at drinking it, no making."

When our dinner was demolished and plates covered only in crumbles and crusts (on my plate), I stood up bringing them over to the sink. My hands were almost elbow deep into the soapy water when Jamie had asked something that made my knees shake just for a moment.

"How come such lass as ye not married, let alone single?"

A heavy silence fell down, erasing our previous banter. Sensing my discomfort he added immediately "Claire, I dinna mean to be noisy". But I had told him anyway.

* * *

"But the main thing was that he had said I wasn't a woman if I could not give him a child. I was just an empty shell of female appearance, there was no much use to me." I inhaled deeply, feeling his eyes on my back when I finally finished. "Truthfully, I don't even know if I am really barren. I don't know who's at fault. Frank never went for a test and I...Well, I could not make myself do it afterwards."

I braced my hands on the opposite sides of the sink trying to compose myself. The swell of tears started to gather in my eyelashes threatening to escape.

"Sassenach."

I heard his quiet steps behind me and I shuddered a sigh thinking how did this evening (a promise of a good sex) turned into something that vaguely reminded me of a soap opera on TV that my neighbor Mrs.Baird watched.

I felt his fingers gently squeezing my shoulder.

"It doesna matter anymore."

"No." I sniffed. "It doesn't."

I turned to him then to be trapped once again by the studying gaze of his blue eyes which now were the reminiscent of storms at sea that promise clear skies. His long fingers brushed away loose curls off my face.

"Do ye need to be alone? Ye want me to go?" He asked softly, hands wrapping around my waist.

"No" I shook my head in protest, suddenly terrified he'd leave. " I don't want you to go."

He nodded.

"I willna. I promise."

On its own accord my forehead dropped against his chest and a sigh of contentment (I did not know was there) escaped my throat. We stood there in each other's embrace long enough for Adso to jump up on the counter to peek at Jamie and I with clear "What are you up to, hoomans?" written on its fluffy face.

"Netflix and chill?" I sniffed, the sound muffled by Jamie's t-shirt. He gave me a lopsided smile when I lifted my head.

"Ye ken what that means, right?"

"I do." I laughed rubbing my eyes, smudged mascara staining my hand.

We indeed watched Netflix. Sitting on a modest distance of each other, under the same plushy throw, still close for our fingers to touch. I was too aware of his presence and closeness that my back started to ache approximately 15 minutes after I sat straight up, afraid to move. But then the wine we drank started to kick in, my body (and mind) relaxing and by thirty minutes into the movie (The Notting Hill I'd made him watch), I found myself in the kingdom of Jamie's warmth, our thighs and hips pressed to one another, his hand wrapped up around my shoulder and my head rested just above his breastbone where I could hear his steady heartbeat. His chin rested on the crown of my head and I could feel his lips slightly brushing above but not kissing just yet. I did not know when and how I fell asleep. Lulled by Jamie's soothing presence I must have dozed off sometime after the credits rolled, last night shifts catching up with me.

I roused to a touch that faintly reminded me the butterflies' wings scattered across my skin. My eyes fluttered open when I could feel Jamie’s warm breath making my skin tingle.

The room was dark, dipped into the heavy night shadows with only thin moonlight sketching a path along the carpet. I had no idea how long I slept only to find myself still on the couch, Jamie’s smile lingering above me. I smiled back feeling his fingers softly caressing the sliver of skin between my jeans and sweater. My back arched instinctively to his touch. He leaned down to press his lips upon mine. It was a lazy kiss, unhurried in the way our mouths melted together, the way he tasted the fullness of my lower lip, the way our tongues sought permission and their slow dance continuing until we both were breathless.

Jamie was looking at me as if he'd seen me for the first time. I could see his eyes move, something faintly reminding me of a tenderness floating at the bottom.

"What?" My lips moved slowly, still numbed by his taste. I touched his cheekbone to see if it feels right for me, for him to do so. How many times would I repeat this simple move? Jamie's fingers had found my hand, turning it palm up.

"I think ye are beautiful, Claire. Verra." His thumb softly outlined my lifeline before he brought my hand up planting a kiss just in the center of it. That simple gesture made me surrender, undid me in fact. I could feel the hot bubbling sensation starting somewhere in my toes rising all the way up to my thighs, my belly, crawling inside my breasts and wrapping around my heart, taking a peek under my skin as if checking is it a suitable place to be here forever?

I dragged my lips over his clavicle that slightly stood out above the collar of his t-shirt, leaving a moist trail of my breath. He smelled earthy, slightly salty with a mix of his cologne. Jamie's breath was shallow and I shifted feeling my arousal build between my thighs. My own abilities to inhale and exhale properly failed me when his fingers dragged the woolen fabric of my sweater up up up until there was nothing to hide. I jerked involuntarily as his auburn curls tickling my skin when his mouth closed over the peak of the left breast. It seemed like a century passed by instead of minutes as his lips moved from one breast to another.

His hand splayed flat on my stomach drawing patterns up and down making me almost beg him to continue just a bit down where I wanted him to be. But before I gathered enough courage to do that his fingers slid under the waistband of my jeans, testing, teasing.

“Jamie” I pleaded with the voice that didn’t sound like my own.

“Do ye want me to stop ?” He asked softly kissing the corner of my mouth.

I did not know if “No” actually left my mouth, but only managed to cling to him in desperate anticipation of my own release. Sensing this, he seemed to slow down on purpose. His mouth hovered above mine, our breaths mixing up as he slipped his hand out (me whimpering in protest and him chuckling, the cocky bastard) to unzip the unnecessary piece of clothing. I raised my hips just enough for Jamie to pull them down to my knees. I was becoming lost in him, forgetting how to breathe. Needing to feel him, I reached for the hem of his t-shirt seeking access to his skin. He ignited a hunger in me, I needed to see him, feel the realness and closeness of him, to be in this moment for my life to have a meaning. Even if it meant just mere minutes.

Pulling the cotton fabric over his head my fingers traced the line of veins that ran along his arm until found where I had mended his flesh with the stitches I had placed. I leaned my head to kiss the spot where the scar would make its presence known. Jamie’s breath hitched and within seconds my lips were trapped by his once again. When we parted with a wet pop his fingers traveled south one more time pushing the grey cotton triangle between my thighs aside. My blood was rushing hot, heart hammering hard against my breastbone. So loud that I thought Jamie could hear. The promising warmth of his fingers drew a map on my inner thighs. Slowly tortuously from one to the other, traveling up to brush over my navel making me pant, and slippery with need.

“I want you inside me” I had whispered then, dragging my tongue over the stubble on his jaw.

“No, a nighean.” He sounded hoarse but dreamily sweet. “I want to watch ye first”.

If it was possible to become undone just from his words, it would have been then. His fingers drew another path, coming home, where I felt hot and greedy for him. I mewled, my hips rising into his touch, nails digging into his shoulders. I kept my eyes shut, fingers leaving marks on his skin, as he drove me down the road of pure sensation. Where my walls had crumbled and fallen down, where he had made me cry out God's name in vain. Where my trembling hands had managed to unbuckle his belt and in a swift motion pull his jeans down, Jamie's feet trapped in them, laughing hard. His moan that sounded more like a hiss when I ran my palm at the length of him, tagging his white boxers off. When all the sharp fences alongside my soul started to crouch down and fade away as our bodies joined. I gasped feeling the saltiness of tears rising up from my belly all the way to my throat because this felt like coming home, suddenly he felt like home. When the lonely tear had rolled down my cheek, into the hollow of my neck, to the fields of my curls (I did not know where it came from) I heard him whisper "mo ghraidh". It had no meaning for me but the way Jamie's lips imprinted those words into the column of my neck destroyed the last barricades I had built over my soft and sensitive, scarred heart.

After a time we were both gasping for air as fish landed on the shore his solid body pinning me down on the cushions. I whispered, "Jamie, you're crushing me".

He hummed a quiet apology. With eyes still veiled by an overtaking orgasm, he rolled off me and gathered me closer to him. His hands wrapped up around my waist, back pressed to his chest. I thought I heard him murmur something into my hair (that faintly sounded as ancient Gàidhlig) before after-sex slumber had taken us both to its realm.

* * *

The nagging ache in my lower back that I usually had from falling asleep on the couch (after a particularly hard shift at the hospital) was something that woke me up. I thought I was suffocating from the realness of the dream I had but it was just Adso who curled like a cinnamon bun on top of my chest.

I was alone. (not that I was really surprised)

But somewhere deep inside I felt a painful sting of bitterness to find myself in the reality of lonely-morning-post-one-night-stand. I reached for my phone with a stupid hope that maybe Jamie had texted me. Nothing.

"Looks like we are back to normal, baby" I sighed scratching Adso behind the ears.

The Edinburgh's skies were gloomy, heavy with a promise of rain. I stared into the window but did not really see anything behind it. The soft knock took me out of my stupor.

"I used the last of yer shampoo.I figured ye wouldna mind." Jamie stood in the doorway, his hair damp from the shower, now two shades darker, like autumn leaves.

My mouth dropped open as I just watched him casually stroll and make himself comfortable in the chair.

"And, Christ, Sassenach, but yer cat does fart like a freakin' raccoon."

"Does it?" I whispered.

[ft-dads-au]

The Princess and the Knight

Femslash Fairies 2020 Prompt: Fairy Tale Pairing(s): Erza x Mirajane, Gray x Natsu A Collaboration by @mdelpin​​ and @oryu404​​

AO3 | FF.Net

May 16, 2021

“Are you sure he’s going to be fine with you guys?” Gray fretted nervously even though he could already see that Aki was perfectly happy sitting next to Atlas on the sofa, both kids focused on the cartoon that was playing on the TV.

“He’ll be fine,” Erza declared, flashing him a reassuring smile, “You’re actually doing us a favor. Atlas is much easier to manage when Aki is around. Just go and have a good time, we’ll call if anything comes up.”

The sound of Natsu’s footsteps coming down the stairs echoed all around them, and it didn’t escape Erza’s attention that Gray had already begun to smile at the sound. It warmed her heart to see it. She’d never expected Natsu to find love again so soon after Lisanna, and she knew he still had some trouble accepting it, but she truly believed these two were right for each other.

Gray wasn’t the only one who was aware of Natsu’s imminent arrival, both boys looked up from the cartoon expectantly and were not disappointed as Natsu lunged himself at them in a mock tackle, both boys giggling as their sides were tickled.

Erza let them play for a minute, knowing the boys had been waiting but soon reminded her brother of his plans. “Hey, don’t you guys have to be somewhere at 8?”

“Oh yeah!” Natsu flashed a grin at his sister, a recent development that she was thrilled with, having thought at one point that she’d never see it again. “Monster trucks wait for no man.”

“Monster trucks?” Gray groaned in protest, “Seriously? What are we, five?”

“Hey, last week we went to the stuck up wine thing you wanted, it’s my turn to pick. Trust me, you’ll love it!”

Erza went into the kitchen, ignoring the bickering that was still going on behind her. She found Mira peering through a book as she waited for the microwave popcorn to finish popping.

“What’s that?”

“Oh! It’s a book that Aki gave me when they got here, I guess it’s a collection of fairy tales,“ Mira explained as she handed the book over to Erza, “I was just looking through it. It’s pretty cool.”

Erza read the title on the cover, ‘The Enchanted Closet’ by Rogue Eucliffe, illustrated by Juvia Lockser. “Rogue wrote this, huh? That’s surprising, he didn’t strike me as the fairy tale type of guy.”

“I know, right?” Mira chuckled, “They’re not like any of the conventional fairy tales, though. The one Aki showed me is about a princess and a female knight. I skimmed it a little, it looks good.”

“Well, assuming we ever get them to bed, I look forward to reading it. Hana might get a kick out of the story too. Did you know that when I was little, I dreamed of being a knight” Erza giggled at the memory as the microwave beeped, “I used to chase poor Natsu around the house with our dad’s practice swords all the time, our cat too! ”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Mira grinned, “I kind of liked the idea of being a princess myself.”

They poured the popcorn into several bowls and took them and some juice boxes out to the living room where Natsu and Gray were still saying goodbye to the kids, Hana having joined them.

“Will you both get out of here already?” Mira groaned.

“Right!” Natsu smiled sheepishly, looking slightly uncomfortable at Mira’s presence.

Mira sighed at him, “You have to get over this, I’m fine with it. Now go, have fun.”

“Okay,” Natsu bowed his head slightly before grabbing on to Gray’s arm and dragging him out the door, calling out to the kids, “Please be good for your aunties.” before closing the door behind them.

“It’s going to take him a while to not feel guilty,” Erza reminded her, “especially around you.”

“I know it’s just, he should be able to realize that Lis would have wanted him to be happy.”

“Give him time, all of this is a big adjustment,” Erza advised as she wedged herself in between Atlas and Hana, “Now, what are we going to watch?”

Mira climbed on the sofa, placing Atlas on her lap so she could sit next to Erza. It wasn’t long before Atlas tugged at Aki’s hand, urging him to sit with Erza so they could be next to each other again, and to Erza’s surprise, Aki complied.

They let Hana pick the movie and settled in comfortably to watch.

~~~

“Alright, time for bed!” Erza clapped her hands with a smile once the credits started to roll, “It’s way past your bedtime already.”

Mira helped Atlas change into his pajamas while Erza did the same for Aki, and Hana dressed herself, recounting all of her favorite parts of the movie. They all went to the bathroom to make sure the kids brushed their teeth well, and then it was time to wish each other a good night.

“Story?” Aki bounced on his feet in hopeful excitement, soon joined by Atlas.

“Of course, I made sure to bring your book upstairs with us,” Mira chirped, showing the book to the kids. Secretly, she was just as excited as they were to dive into the story she’d caught a glimpse of earlier. “But just one story, and then it’s time for you to sleep.”

Hana and the boys huddled together under the sheets in Natsu’s bed, their eager faces waiting while Mira grabbed a chair and pulled it up next to the bed. Erza took a seat right beside her, on the edge of the mattress, straightening her skirt as she sat down.

“The Princess And The Knight?” Mira asked, flipping through the pages of the book in search of the story. A loud, excited yes came from all three children, causing her to chuckle with delight.

“Alright then, I found it!” She made herself comfortable in her seat and brought her index finger to her lips, signaling for the kids to be quiet.

“So, Once upon a time…”

Once upon a time in a small village, there lived a girl, the only daughter of the town’s blacksmith. Her mother had died when she was young, so she spent her days at her father’s side, helping him with his forge and learning how to craft beautiful weapons. She especially loved his swords, which though ornate, were perfectly balanced.

Her father didn’t only teach her how to make the weapons, he taught her how to use them as well, and many a pleasant night was spent sparring as she learned how to fight to defend herself and protect others.

Over the years, her skills grew, and she would fight anyone who would accept her challenge, including the knights who commissioned weapons from her father. Much to her father’s satisfaction, she soon surpassed even them.

Yes, the girl was a talented swordswoman, but she was also rather lonely. Even though she was quite beautiful, with long scarlet hair that flowed down to her waist in soft curls, and kind eyes that shone as beautifully as any brown diamond, she was also intimidating.

Mira peered at Erza over the edge of the book, barely containing her glee when she caught the other woman rolling her eyes at her, and quickly continued.

The boys shunned her because they could not best her, and the girls didn’t quite know what to make of her strange ways. No matter how much she tried to fit in, her advances were always shunned. And soon, she stopped trying, resigning herself to a life of loneliness. She resolved to work even harder to become a knight, even though no woman had ever achieved it, a fact that only made her more determined.

It was around this time that she began to hear of a princess trapped in a tower from the knights that often visited her father. Full of curiosity and always eager for a tale, she asked her father if he knew anything about it.

“What do you know of this princess the knights were talking about?” she asked him one evening as they sat by the fire after their evening meal.

“Do you mean the demon princess?”

“A demon princess?” The girl repeated eagerly, her curiosity aroused even further.

Her father chuckled, beckoning her to his side, and as she sat at his feet he grabbed a silver hairbrush which had belonged to her mother and began to brush out her hair, “It doesn’t matter how old you get Pet, you still love a good story. Let me see, I’m surprised you hadn’t heard of it before, this story has been going around for a long time. It began when I was a boy.

“Not too far from here, there lived a beautiful princess. The firstborn child of a king and queen that ruled over a vast and prosperous kingdom. She had been born with hair as white as snow, and eyes as blue as a summer sky, a recessive trait in the royal family that prophesied demonic powers.”

“Just like us, auntie Mira!” Atlas exclaimed excitedly.

“Well, you two definitely have a demonic side to you every now and then,” Erza joked, dodging a playful swat from Mira, “See?”

“Just let me finish the story! Now, where was I…”

“Yet as far as anyone could see, the princess was an angel, sweet and kind with no hint of malice to be found anywhere. ‘Much like you, my Pet,’ her father declared, and the girl rejoiced at the pride she heard in his words.

“But there were those that still believed that the princess held great power, strong demonic magic that had not yet manifested. So they sent an army to the kingdom, determined to capture her and control her magic to their will. This much I know to be true, for I remember seeing the clouds of smoke from the battle, which went on for days.

“The King tried to protect his family, but their kingdom was a peaceful one, the soldiers no match for the veterans that were at their door. One by one, her family fell dead trying to protect the princess, and all she could do was cry in fear.

“But then something peculiar happened. The pain and loss the princess suffered awakened the very demon that had lain dormant inside her and might have remained so had she been left alone.

“Those soldiers went in expecting to face an angel, but they were met with the wrath of a demon. None of them left that castle with their life.

“The princess, not used to the strange magic, collapsed from the strain and was locked away in the tallest tower of the castle, one of the few parts of the structure that was still standing. Wizards from the Magic Council set many measures in place to dissuade those who would attempt to obtain her power from ever being able to reach her. At least that’s what people say, but I don’t think that’s what happened at all.”

“What is it you think happened, Father?” the girl asked with interest, knowing her father to be a wise man.

“I think the demon princess was so horrified by her actions that she used the last remnants of her emerging magic to enchant the woods around the castle and set up trials and obstacles to prevent anyone from ever getting to her again. Then she locked herself in the tower, determined to keep her demon from hurting anyone else,“ he declared, his words laced with great pity as he continued to brush the girl’s hair.

The girl remained quiet for a few moments, considering her father’s words before asking a question, “Surely she must have known it wasn’t her fault. She was attacked, did she not have the right to defend herself?”

“It’s not so easy to deal with the guilt of taking a life, Pet, regardless of the circumstances. She was a young girl, and she was forced to endure a lot of death and violence. I would not blame her for wanting to hide away.

“Regardless of how it may have happened, many men have tried and failed to reach her. Some following tales of her beauty, while others sought control of her power, but none have ever succeeded. The few that have returned have never been the same again. They speak of monsters and other horrors, but their tales are all different, which I have always found interesting.”

“What do you think it would take to rescue her?”

“I think it would require a noble knight, one who only wished to free her for her own sake.”

The girl frowned, “Why must it always be men who perform the great deeds, Father? Women are just as capable, are they not?”

“I never said it had to be a man, dear heart, “ the blacksmith retorted, eyes twinkling, “You did. I firmly believe the measure of a person lies in their heart, not their gender. And frankly, I know of no one with a purer heart than yours. If you set your mind to it, I have no doubt you could reach the princess, and convince her to return to the world she left behind.”

The story of the demon princess captivated the blacksmith’s daughter, staying with her as she grew older. The idea that she could be the one to rescue the princess had taken hold of her, giving her life a purpose it had previously been lacking.

Once she came of age, she decided to set out on a quest. To prove her skills and worth as a true knight, and to free the demon princess from the terrible fate she’d met.

‘How lonely she must’ve been in that tower all those years ’, the girl thought, especially if what her father believed was true.

She ventured out into the world, armed with nothing but a satchel of traveling supplies, and her own sword, the finest ever made by her father. She walked for many days until she came upon a large field covered in flowers of every color imaginable.

The girl had never seen anything like it before, and she spent quite some time examining all the different types of flowers. She soon decided she’d bring some to the princess, a small reminder of the beauty that lay beyond the confines of her tower.

Once she’d picked the most beautiful flowers she could find, the girl moved on, eventually reaching the enchanted forest that surrounded the castle. At first glance, it looked no different than the woods near her own village, so she entered it bravely, choosing the path she thought would lead her to the castle.

Soon, she began to hear noises, the crunching of twigs behind her, and unnatural growls, but she continued on, remembering how her father had said no one had ever had the same story.

The girl believed the trick to getting through this obstacle was courage. If the princess hadn’t wanted to hurt anyone else, then it was likely that none of the things she would see or hear were real. She believed that with all her heart, and so she continued on her path, trying her best to ignore the sounds that came ever closer.

It was night time when the first creature approached her. It was wolflike in appearance, although it was larger than any wolf she had ever seen. With red glowing eyes that hinted at great cunning. It howled loudly, and soon others came, surrounding her and cutting her off from any means of escape. Their fangs dripped with saliva, making them look ravenous. They growled as one and moved ever closer.

The girl’s heart raced in her chest, but she slowly removed her sword from its scabbard and held it in front of her to boost her courage. Reminding herself that nothing in the forest could hurt her, she ignored the wolves, pretending as if they weren’t even there. With her head held high, she took a shaky step forward. The first one was the hardest, but once she realized the wolves were only looking at her with mild interest, she continued on her path, soon reaching what seemed to be a garden maze, the likes of which she had only seen in storybooks. There was no way around it.

The hedges that made up the maze’s walls were tall and impossibly neat, giving proof of its magical origin. The girl soon realized it would be incredibly easy to lose her bearings once inside, so she climbed the tallest tree she could find, trying to see the inside of the maze, but no matter how high she climbed, the hedges seemed to grow taller blocking her view. It was pointless to continue, there was but one course left to her. She would have to figure out the maze as she went, but it would have to wait until the following day. It was dark, and she was tired. She settled down to sleep in front of the entrance content in the knowledge that she had made it past the first obstacle.

“What are you doing here?” A voice asked from behind her, and when the girl turned to see who it was, she was stunned.

A beautiful girl sat atop one of the wolf creatures from the forest, her long white hair billowing around her even though there was no wind, while her blue eyes peered at the knight with open curiousity.

“I’ve come to rescue the princess,” the knight replied simply.

“Why would you want to do that? Do you seek her power?”

“I seek nothing but to free her from her tower.”

The girl snorted, “Likely story, they always want something.”

“I do want something,” the knight confessed, her cheeks coloring at her admission. She grabbed her satchel and searched for the flowers she had carefully packed, taking them out to show the girl she suspected of being the princess. To her dismay, the flowers had wilted and now looked pitiful, “I was hoping to make a friend.”

The girl looked intrigued, She climbed down from the wolf, grabbing the flowers from the knight. “Let me see those.”

She blew softly on the wilted flowers, and much to the knight’s surprise, they perked right back to life.

“These are very beautiful, thank you,” the girl smiled, her eyes twinkling with the force of it. “A female knight, huh? Perhaps you might be different from the others after all. We shall see.”

“Remember to follow the flowers,” she proclaimed before climbing back on the wolf and disappearing into the night.

The knight jerked awake to find it was already morning. She scrambled to her satchel, dumping out the contents on the ground only to find the flowers she had picked so carefully were nowhere to be found. Not sure what to believe, she chose some of her provisions and ate a small breakfast, placing the rest of the items back inside the satchel.

She entered the maze slowly, keeping her eyes on the hedges. If they could grow taller, there was no doubt in her mind that they might also be able to move. She had a feeling this obstacle was going to be difficult. Each direction looked much the same as any other, and so she picked one at random, hitting dead end after dead end. It took her hours to reach the center, and she was growing discouraged. It was when she looked for her water canteen that she noticed the solitary red flower that grew on one of the hedge walls. It seemed almost exactly like one of the flowers she had picked the day before.

Remember to follow the flowers, the words came into her mind unbidden, and she blinked slowly as the dream reasserted itself. She thought about whether she had noticed any flowers before but couldn’t recall, having been too focused on keeping track of whether she was walking in circles.

But now that she had seen one, she followed the direction it pointed out, finding more and more flowers along the way until she finally made her way to the exit where someone was waiting for her.

Or rather something. A creature with pointed ears, wings like a bat, a reptilian tail, and long, sharp claws stood before her. The demon’s eyes were as white as her hair, and her skin was pale, almost translucent, showing the black veins that ran underneath it.

The girl knight took a shuddering breath as she faced her adversary, drawing her sword yet keeping her distance and assuming a defensive stance. The demon opened her mouth, but all that came out was a diabolical screech, and when she lunged at her, the girl knight had no choice but to engage in battle. Blow after blow, the polished metal of her sword clashed with the demon’s razor-sharp talons, but all she did was counter and dodge the attacks.

“Please, I don’t want to hurt you,” the knight pleaded, jumping away from the fierce whips of the demon’s tail just in time, “It was you who came to me in my dream, wasn’t it? I still mean what I said, I want to be your friend!”

And as the knight spoke those words, she could distinguish the princess’ sad voice through the demon’s ear-piercing screams.

“Who would want to be friends with a monster like me? Leave while you still can. I can’t hold it back, it’s too strong! I don’t want to hurt you!”

The knight thought of all the times the demon could have hurt her but didn’t, and she took a huge gamble. She placed her sword on the ground and walked towards the demon who continued to hiss and spit, but as she suspected, didn’t attack.

“You’re no monster, and I have no intention of leaving you behind.”

“Don’t come any closer,” the princess cried in fear as the knight moved towards her, “It will kill you, just like it did the others!”

The knight ignored the princess, having already decided on a plan of action. She didn’t stop her charge until the demon was within striking distance. It peered at her in confusion, its tortured eyes looking incredibly tired. The knight smiled warmly before wrapping her arms around it in a tight embrace. The demon struggled until the knight murmured, “ I’m here now, you don’t need to protect her anymore.”

“Thank you, brave knight,” the demon finally spoke, it’s voice receding as the princess appeared in its stead.

“I don’t understand,” the princess looked around her in confusion as the maze and everything else that had been a part of the demon’s magic faded into nothingness.

“I think I do, The demon was always a part of you. It’s a manifestation of your magic. When you were in danger, it came to your aid, and it has been protecting you ever since.” the knight explained.

The princess thought about it a moment, clearly not entirely satisfied with the explanation, but soon she shook her head and smiled at the night shyly, “So, it looks like you did rescue me after all.”

“That’s a knight’s job,” the girl said proudly.

“And don’t knights usually get a reward for rescuing the princess?” she teased, enjoying the flustered look on the knight’s face. “Well then, brave knight, close your eyes.”

The girl had no idea what to expect when she closed her eyes, but it was certainly not the soft pressure on her lips, which lasted but a second and was immediately followed by a melodious giggle.

She opened her eyes to find the princess grinning at her, eyes full of mischief. “Why did you do that?”

“Cause you’re my friend,” the princess grabbed hold of the knight’s hand and ran, dragging the still flustered knight behind her. “Come on, slowpoke, I want to see everything that’s waiting for us beyond this castle!”

And so they embarked on a new adventure, leaving the ruins of the castle behind them to discover all the marvels the world had to offer. Although the princess never reclaimed the throne, and the blacksmith’s daughter wasn’t officially knighted, that didn’t matter to either of them. Somewhere along the way, they had fallen in love with each other, and nothing would ever be more important to them than that.

They lived happily ever after, forever remaining the princess and the knight in each other’s eyes.

“The End,” Mira smiled fondly as she closed the book, placing it on the nightstand next to the bed so that Aki could find it easily once he woke up. He’d already fallen asleep, a small smile on his face, and his teddy bear held tightly in his arms.

“That was amazing…” Hana swooned as she got up to go to her own bed, knowing her brother was likely to thrash around in his sleep. “Good night!” she hugged her aunts and left the room, still reveling in the fantasy world of knights and princesses.

“Did they eat a lot of cookies?” Atlas wondered sleepily, about to nod off as well.

Erza got up from the bed and tucked the boys in. “I’m sure they did, all kinds of delicious, freshly baked cookies,” she appealed to him with a ruffle through his hair, and with that, the little boy closed his eyes and departed to dreamland.

“That was quite a story. You’d think Rogue would be a little more subtle with the casting, though, “ Mira giggled.

Erza rolled her eyes, “No kidding. Come on, Princess, I think there’s still some cake left in the kitchen.”

“Whatever you say, brave knight,“ Mira smirked, grabbing Erza’s hand and dragging her down the stairs.

Both girls had big smiles on their faces, their hearts filled with the fond hope of what could be. Someday.

@femslashfairies​

[intheseautumnhands]

12, 35, 56, 81, 82, 119, 127, 142, 148! :)

And then family stuff went KABOOM and memes never happened.

12. What are your 5 favorite songs right now?

This is like... the worst time to ask this question because that answer always depends on what I’ve been into, and right now I’m doing Postmodern Jukebox and musicals of dubious quality. I could fill a list twice as long entirely with PMJ covers honestly but I’ll try not to. XD Um, let me see:

Velodrome - Dessa and the Minnesota Orchestra

I Can Lift a Car - Walk the Moon 

Little Mercy - Doomtree

Dare Ye Cry Mercy - Sirena

I can’t leave this off because I’ve been listening to it like ten times a day: Brielle Von Hugel’s 60s-style cover of Grenade

Going under the jump for length.

35. Would you rather live without TV or music?

Either one sounds miserable. If TV means literally just TV and I can still have movies, that one, I guess. But I need some kind of talky thing to sleep. (Though, I guess, podcasts would work if really needed.

56. Favourite colour?Deep/dark shades of baaaasically anything, but especially blue and purple.

81. Favourite tv show?Current show: The Umbrella Academy. (The Good Plae comes very close but has just enough humor that makes me twitch that TUA edges it out.) Generally, there’s just... there’s too many. I am bad at favorites! 

(Top 5-ish, probably: Firefly, Sports Night, Pushing Daisies, some USA show’s early seasons [Burn Notice/White Collar/Suits] but don’t ask me to choose right this second, Galavant probably needs to go on here now that it’s my comfort show. Sanctuary does not hit the favorites list because it’s really only like six to eight episodes but man are they a really really good six to eight episodes.)

82. Favourite movie?*points above* But probably Practical Magic just for the sheer balance of how much I love it for itself plus how long I’ve loved it. (Strong additional contenders: Clue, The Commitments, The Fox and the Hound, The Devil’s Carnival, uh, many others I’m sure.)

119. Favourite book?

This tends to be veeeery dependent on what I’ve been reading lately so, uh, right now I’d probably say either Velveteen vs the Seasons or Sparrow Hill Road by Seanan McGuire. I... haven’t been reading a lot otherwise besides poetry books so nothing else is coming to mind, but I love everything I’ve read by David Levithan, especially Boy Meets Boy, which I really need to get my hands on and do a reread of.

127. What makes you happy?My partner. My cats. My oldest, dearest friend. Playing games with friends. Getting to play sounding board for other people’s creativity. Interesting music. I... can’t think of anything else right now because it’s been a very rough week, but I know other things do exist.

142. Favourite month?Probably January or February? There’s a lot of stuff goes on from late September to early October, November and December mandate family time, but I like the cold now that I can have it.

148. What’s your favourite quote?There are a lot but the first thing that comes to mind for a while now has been from a version of one of Brenna Twohy’s poems -- it changed before the final version that was published, but the first version I saw has always struck me really deeply:“tomorrow is coming, & tomorrow needs sponges, & god, what a fucking miracle it is, the way we go on.”

(I apparently have a Thing with getting really attached to lines from her that then get cut. I took my Dreamwidth username from an older ending posted of I Know It’s a Little Late: “This year, I am full up with fire--/do not mistake this for burning;/This year, Lazarus reborn in me;/This year, I am not sorry;/This year, I am made entirely of teeth.”)

[lovestruck-au]

That Part About Apples And Families

A sweet, little, family reunion! Sounds fun doesn’t it?

Not for Lorencia.

1. Dawn | 2. Ross | 4. That feeling

Abusive parents in this one!

There’s that saying, that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Basically, it means that kids aren’t that different from their parents. No matter if it’s look, character, morality or simply the way someone wash their hands. In psychology it’s said that children reflect parental behaviour, which is fully reasonable. After all a child will do everything it’s parent does from an early age.

Christian Taylor knew this very well. It was a common knowledge for a psychologist, especially for one usually working with children. He studied psychology on Dawn Hat’s University of Heroes, focusing more on child psychology, wanting to help children. He was doing this for his little sister.

Chris was young, finished his studies barely one year ago. He could look inexperienced (even if he wasn’t). Yet, he still got that big occasion for money, very subtle case which couldn’t get into media. He wouldn’t get any visible experience, but he’ll be able to keep his flat for whole next year at least!

Well, at least that’s what he hoped for.

This whole thing seemed weird from the start. From the first second after Alton Ayers, head of the Silver Sword contacted him. Silver Sword was a hero organization, one of the biggests in the world at this moment, so it was obvious Chris had to be silent about it. He agreed almost immediately, because mr. Alton offered him half of his payment before meeting with the child and was taken to the Silver Sword’s special facility. He wasn’t even sure where it was.

He was able to meet Dawn Hat and Lin Hakki there but, as excited as he got upon being able to actually shake their hands, it kept getting weirder and weirder. Why would they come here if it was the Silver Sword’s inside thing? If they were here then it meant this whole case was way bigger than Chris thought.

He got kid’s documents right before entering their room with Alton and Sayuri Ayers and didn’t even have time to read all of them. He only managed something about a kidnaping and brainwashing.

And a name.

Right now Christian Taylor was standing, dumbfounded, with a clipboard in his hand, looking at Miki Ayers. The daughter of Mr. and Ms. Ayers, who was badly injured around six years ago. The girl everyone basically forget a month after the accident. The girl who should be sixteen right now, at least Chris thought so. He wasn’t really interested in that story back then.

A young woman to whom her parents called a child psychologist.

“Sweetie!” Sayuri Ayers, Miki’s mother, called to her. There was relief obvious in her voice and Chris wasn’t surprised. According to the documents he was holding in his hands Miki was gone for two years already, not even one time contacting with her parents. Yet, the mother didn’t even flinch toward her daughter.

The old saying came back to Christian right then. Miki was so similar to her mother. Black hair kept neatly in tight ponytail, thin, petty silhouette, long legs… they had even similar dresses on them, although the one wore by Miki seemed more childish. Pink, with a flower on her side and a big bow in her hair.

But that wasn’t everything. Miki’s face wasn’t as close to Sayuri as it was to her father, Alton. Her face wasn’t round, it was still soft, yes, but more pointy on edges, with strong cheekbones and a mole under her left eye.

Even her posture was more similar to her father that mother. She stood strong, straight, looking at her parents with high lifted head. From time to time she was peeking at the giant, violet teddy behind her, like if worried someone would take it away. So, that was her comfort thing then.

“You look just perfect” continued Sayuri, with an excited voice. Miki only scowled at the compliment. Somehow it didn’t change how pretty her face was.

“What do you say when someone compliment you?” Mr. Ayers sounded like it was something normal to scold the girl for him. With his wide, muscular chest, reminding how some heroes looked like, and ringing voice even Chris had to flinch. He was surprised Miki didn’t.

“Of course I look perfect” snarled Miki. “You gave me the exact same dress and hairstyle you have.”

Her words drew sighs from her parents. But, well, she had a point - thought Christian.

“At least you finally look like a girl” argued Ms. Ayers. “I don’t know what did you think, young lady like you shouldn’t dress in such an awful, old clothes.”

Miki looked like she will erupt in a second but was trying to hold back. And they were people who didn’t see each other for two years? A girl who was kidnapped and her parents who were worried about her wellbeing?

“Let’s calm down, we’re not here to argue.” Chris decided to say something, to cut off approaching argument. Mr. Ayers agreed with him.

“Yes. We’re here to help you.”

At that Ms. Ayers grabbed her chin, making weird, strangled noise. “I can’t even imagine what terrible things that monster did to you” she wailed. Her husband lend her an arm, to lean on.

“What monster?” Miki seemed confused, but a crinkle between her eyebrows and fire in her eyes indicated she knows very well what’s going on in here. Her father sighed and exchanged looks with Chris.

That was the psychiatrist’s cue to go on and start the session. He nodded, kindly asking the couple to give them some privacy.

“That’s our daughter. We can listen” decided Alton and moved with his wife, still looking like she would collapse in a second, to the couch on the other side of the room. Chris sighed.

Not cool.

He walked to Miki, smiling warmly, her files in one of his hands. He didn’t exactly like how the girl looked at him, with something animalistic in those pretty eyes, like a cat looking at the mouse. But he didn’t let himself be intimidated, reaching for a handshake.

Miki looked his hand over and crossed arms over her chest, not interested with touching him at all. Chris respected that.

“My name’s Christian Taylor. I’m a psychologist” Chris introduced himself.

“I managed to guess that” grumbled Miki and continued. “You probably have some files about me in there. Let me guess again, something about being kidnapped? Held against my will? Maybe few other terrible lies?”

Chris looked at the clipboard and smiled at Miki. “Yeah, maybe let me explain exactly why I’m here? We can sit over there and talk a little.” Chris pointed to a small table and two chairs around it.

“I’m not leaving Bob’s side.” Miki clung to the giant teddy behind her.

“Okay, okay. We can sit here, on the floor.”

The girl looked at Chris from under long lashes, her eyes flickered toward her parents for a second and finally she nodded. Without a word she slid to the floor, her back resting on the teddy’s fluffy belly.

Chris sat next to her, smiling softly. “Do you know for how long you were gone?”

“Two years. Wish it was longer.” Miki tried to readjust her sitting pose but swayed a little, quickly catching balance again. Chris could swear he saw something move under her dress but decided to focus on the discussion.

“And why is that?”

She didn’t answer, looking at him like if he was an idiot. Chris decided to change the topic.

“Do you remember anything from the night you were taken from the hospital?” Chris looked the documents over again. Wait, why exactly was she in the hospital in the first way? Wasn’t that because- He found the right note. Fracture of the spine causing whole body paralysation?!

Miki had to understand his shocked expression because she nodded. “Yeah. I was chained to the bed for four years. They left me to rot there, only sending more and more doctors to experiment on my back. Would you want to see scars I have left?” Miki chuckled a little. “Love Hat, the one she dares to call a monster” she pointed at her mother with an accusing finger “found me few days before and come talk with me, disguised. He told me he can help me leave that place on my own legs.”

“How?” Chris asked, to make her continued but also because he was genuinely curious.

Miki again glanced at her parents and out of sudden stood up, again swayin a little. She grabbed back of her dress and tugged. One, two, three times till the material ripped, drawing surprised gasp from Miki’s mother. The girl ripped half of her dress, till a long, black, cat tail showed up.

“Hide that hideous thing right now!” Ms. Ayers stood up. Miki looked at her with incredulous look in her eyes.

“That hideous thing helps me move, you know that?” Without anything more to say Miki sat down again, visibly waiting for more questions. Chris decided that’s the best he could do, not paying attention to angry words behind his back.

“Love Hat did it?”

“No, he still can’t understand how exactly does a TV works.” Miki chuckled and a soft smile like that looked on her face way better than a scowl. “Ross did it.”

“Ross?” Chris checked his files. There wasn’t much about Ross, Ross Tlina, but it sounded dangerous.

“He’s not like they say.” Miki forestalled Chris’ question. “He’s really sweet… well, he can be really sweet. Most of the time he’s pretty grumpy. But he’s just hurt.”

“Do you like him?”

Miki made a pause and looked up, on her big teddy’s face. She smiled more. “Yeah. He’s like my older brother. We annoy each other to no end but I would jump into the fire after him. And I’m sure he would as well… wait, is he in here? Is Love in here as well?” There was some kind of spark in Miki’s eyes. Chris had to bit his tongue before he could answer that question.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you that.”

“Oh.” The smile on her face faltered. She shrugged.

Chris continued. “I need to ask you a difficult question next.” Miki looked at him, waiting. “Do you know what brainwashing is?”

“That’s enough!” Alton Ayers spoke up, making Chris jolt. “You were supposed to fix her, not have a small chit chat!”

“Yes, but that’s not an easy process-”

“You think I’m brainwashed?” Miki sounded surprised and a little amused. But mostly dumbfounded. She stood up, to face her father, the tail swaying behind her. “And you have the audacity to say that after what you did to me?”

“We never did anything to you!”

“You left me, a ten years old kid, in a hospital! For four years! You never came to visit, only friendly face I saw was my nanny! Which nota bene was more of a mother to me than her” she pointed at Ayuri again “since she wouldn’t even leave her room to read me a book!”

“We tried to cure you. We gave you a home, food and education. You should be grateful!”

At this point Chris was standing away from fighting father and daughter. She was barely reaching his chest, yet wasn’t even a little reluctant to yell at him and Chris was a little amazed. As well as concerned, because all that didn’t sound good.

“Grateful?!” roared Miki. “You deserve shit, not my gratefulness! I’m grateful for every person that was by my side but you two!”

Alton was preparing himself to roar back, but a sudden hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“It’s okay” Sayuri said with weirdly calm voice. “Nothing you say is true after all. We know that monster brainwashed you to believe all that.”

Miki was speechless for a moment. Chris looked between her and her parents, not knowing who he should believe. From one side all the exchange between Miki and her father seemed very real. From the other brainwashing, as rare as it happened, could mess even person’s memories.

Miki straightened, relaxed her shoulders and looked with fierce in her eyes at her parents. “I always knew how dense you are. But to pull off something like that? There are plenty of people who knows how of a shitty parents you were. And if they wouldn’t want to talk, there’s always my grandpa, he learned how you two are for real long time ago.”

“He’s a crazy, old hero. No one will believe him.” Miki’s mother was as stoic as a tree. She looked like she knew her daughter don’t have a way out now. That was when Chris decided to stay on Miki’s side.

For him that single sentence said by Sayuri had way too much warning in it.

He moved toward the girl, wanting to propose a break so he could talk with her without both of her parents listening, but a strong blow interrupted him. The room shook a little, the alarm going off. After few seconds a high pitched roar pierced everyone’s ears.

Alton immediately covered his wife with a strong arm. Chris jumped to Miki, who didn’t seem as troubled as she should, and grabbed her arm.

“I believe you” he said. She looked him over and freed her hand.

“Then you wanna hide somewhere, or better, run out of here as fast as possible.” She turned toward her teddy. “Come on Bob, it’s our cue to leave.”

“What-”

Right then the teddy - Bob - moved. It stood up on its hind legs and grabbed Miki in its paws. She crawled onto its shoulder, holding hard to the furr.

“Wait!” Both of them stopped right before jolting out of the room and turned toward Chris. The giant, teddy-like monster growled at him. “Take it. Please. If you’ll have any problems, want to talk, just, anything...” Chris reached a shaking hand toward Miki, handing her his business card. He knew it wasn’t pointless to get them after finishing the school, even if it was first time he actually used it.

Miki looked it over and hid - in her bra because of course the dress didn’t have any pockets. “Yeah, I’ll call. You seems nice anyway.”

She patted Bob and it rushed out of the room, knocking off Alton, who tried to stop it. The alarm was loud and the piercing roar happened again.

“Why didn’t you stop her?!” Mr. Ayers jumped toward Chris and grabbed the front of his shirt. The psychiatrist choked, grabbing bigger man’s arms.

“I-”

“Dear!” Ms. Ayers called, visibly scared. Alton huffed at Chris.

“You just destroyed your whole career” he said grimmly and dropped Chris. Escorting his wife, he left the room.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. That saying once again came back to Christian when he stood up shakilly. Maybe it didn’t mean that the child had to be as terrible as their parents. Maybe a child could learn that not always following the parent’s path was good for them. But the saying was still painfully true.

That fierce, animalistic look in Alton’s eyes, so similar to Miki’s angry glare, was enough for a proof.

.

Lorencia clung to Bob’s back. The teddy was running fast through the corridors, knocking off doctors and guards standing on his way, not even paying attention to few bullets shoot at him. He, almost instinctively, was searching for Love Hat. Lorencia wasn’t sure if it was a good idea. From what it sounded like she guessed the demon went mad. But still, she would rather be with him now than her parents.

In the crazy run Lorencia noticed a similar dark skin and white hair, just flashing in the corner of her eye. “Ross?!” she yelled, making Bob stop and look around.

Ross stopped as well, looked in their direction and smiled with relief, living the room he was in. He limped toward them, his prosthetic leg different than the one he usually had and his arm gone, as well as his mask. At least he got both of his eyes on place - thought Lorencia, observing the face she didn’t have a chance to see too frequently.

“I’m so glad I found you two” he sighed. Lorencia helped him get on Bob’s back. “We need to get out of here. And somehow lure Love out as well.”

“How?” asked Lorencia when Bob started moving once again.

“I have an idea, but you’ll think I’m crazy.”

Lorencia kept for herself that she thought Ross was crazy anyway. And she listened to his plan.

[ghosteyesfoxwrites]

Ignite

A neonpunk bumbleby story full of action and romance. 

Chapter 1

Looking out of their hotel room, the barely there reflection of a tall, muscular blonde eyed the city. A dusting of snow covered the cold, hard steel of Neo Atlas. A floating empire that was once under the tyrannical thumb of the Schnee family, but now, the pressure has been lifted. The blonde smiled thinking back to the day she heard her childhood friend finally stood up to her father and gave him the icy boot. She was glad her friend-now-queen kept the neon lights that had taken root in the empire.

"Yang," the blonde turned to the voice. 

"Yeah, Ruby?"

Ruby smiled up at Yang, she was on her back and her legs kicked restlessly over the edge of the bed, "We're here a day early. And Weiss is too busy to give us the tour. We should explore a bit. It's been for-ev-er since we were on this side of Atlas." 

Sitting on the bed, Yang pulled out her phone, the scroll, and hummed. It was early afternoon, the lag of travel hadn't set in, and she was a bit hungry. "Alright, Rubes. Let's head out for a bit. The snow stopped and didn't leave the streets undriveable."

"Yes!" Ruby jumped to her feet and blurred toward the coatrack, pulling on her red cloak. "Plus, didn’t you say the heating do-hickey of your arm is due for a replacement." She grabbed a compact red and black metal case and clipped on the back of her belt.

Chuckling, Yang stood and walked over and pulled on a black leather jacket with a yellow stripe that ran down the arms. She flexed the fingers of her metal prosthetic, little purple lights fading on and off. "Yeah, thanks for the reminder. C'mon, maybe we can find you something nice for Ice Queen's party tomorrow." Yang reached over onto the small tv stand and picked up her wallet, keys, and gold bracelet with the word Ember Celica engraved on it. She slipped it on her left hand and shook her wrist, letting it settle comfortably. 

 Ruby huffed and lightly slapped Yang's shoulder, "I do have something nice. And before you dis it, no, it is not my beloved cloak, but something I picked up awhile ago." Yang gave a noise before slipping on her aviators and the duo headed down the garage to bring out Yang's bike.

Neo Atlas, a new branding as Weiss put it, was what was needed after the horrid way her father ran the empire. She refused for the Schnee name be tied to inhumane treatment of their Dust miners, disgusting prejudice against the faunus, and insane pricing. Along with her most trusted butler and confidant, Klein, Weiss rebuilt the Schnee name. The neon drenched cities released the collective held breath while under her father, and sighed in relief as the unprecedented young woman made leaps and bounds. With her fair and equal treatment and abolished such strict rules against the faunus, even the faunus' rights group, the White Fang, had to step back from their violent attacks.

The party Weiss would be having was actually a peace treaty she put together with the chieftain of Menagerie, a small island on the border of Neo Atlas's Empire where Jacques Schnee had tried to dump all the faunus.  Weiss had worked months after usurping her father on the treaty, it was one of the first things she put together. She had met several times over those months with the chieftain, his wife, and daughter, solidifying the relationship. Despite her young age, Weiss had shown great maturity, a sky's worth of knowledge, and charm that put the three faunus at ease.

After the initial meeting, Weiss had to admit she thoroughly enjoyed Ghira, Kali, and Blake’s company. Going as far as offering part of the Schnee manor as a get away for the Belladonna family for vacation or for just small visits. 

“Blake, calm down, you’ll be fine,” Weiss pulled Blake’s hands away from fiddling with the front of the dress, Some of the strings dangled and it would tempt Blake to fiddle with them. Something to give her fidgeting hands something to do. 

“I don’t get why I have to wear a dress. I can wear pants. A nice suit to mirror your dress,” the cat faunus pouted. Her ear drooped as she looked up form the floor to a sighing Weiss.

“Would that make you feel more comfortable?” Weiss quirked an eyebrow. Blake nodded, her ears perked up. Weiss let out a huff, smiling, “Alright. But you still need to wear heels, that’s an order from your mother,” The girls laughed as they made sure their outfits were ready for the next night’s party. 

  The sun fell and rose, the neon lights that made the snow change colors, faded in the pale morning light. Yang stood from bed and stretched, letting out groans as pops echoed in the room. Ruby, from the other full bed, grumbled in her sleep and rolled back over. Yang flopped back on the bed, She pulled out her scroll and went through mail, messages, notifications, then finally, the bounties list. Nothing major had been posted. Their last job netted them close to a million lien, so Yang felt comfortable letting some of the smaller fish go. She looked at the time and counted the hours until the party. Her and Ruby had about eight hours to get ready and get to the Schnee manor. In Weiss’ invite to Yang and Ruby, she told the sisters that Klein would personally pick them up, so Yang didn’t have to drive her motorcycle through town. Yang shuffled down into the pillows, content with a few hours of lounging around until she needed to get herself and Ruby ready. 

The party, be the time Ruby and Yang had arrived, was just starting to pick up speed. Yang and Ruby were lead in by Klein; Ruby and Yang had known the man for years, most of their lives, and enjoyed his stories and how he’d switch from one personality to the next at a moment’s notice. The ballroom was filled with faunus and humans, talking, schmoozing, mingling, and all around having a grand time. Yang let out a whistle, “Weiss didn’t skimp on anything, did she?” 

Klein chuckled, “Oh no, the young miss spared no expense. This is a momentous night, and something they will be talking about for generations.” 

Ruby’s eyes were everywhere. She squealed and latched onto Yang’s left arm, “She did it! She actually did it!” Yang followed where Ruby was furiously pointing and she nodded in approval. Next to one of the biggest ice sculptures she had ever seen, Yang saw what had her sister squealing. A chocolate fountain that rivaled Yang’s height in her best heeled boots. 

“I told you she liked you best, Rubes,” Yang teased. Ruby dropped from yang’s arm in a huff and turned away, hiding a blush. 

“If you would excuse me, ladies. I must go attend to my other duties. But, as always, a pleasure seeing you two,” Klein smiled and bowed. The sisters waved him off and he disappeared into the crowd.

Ruby and Yang wandered through the crowd until they made it to the food tables and started picking at the finger foods and taking drinks. Ruby, a little more of a light weight compared to Yang, kept to the lighter drinks. Yang was in the middle of ordering a whiskey on the rocks when a hand tapped her shoulder. She turned and saw Weiss, a gentle smile on her face. Yang abandoned the drink and laughed. She got Weiss in a big hug and lifted the Queen of Atlas up. Weiss sounded offended but was soon laughing and held her friend tight. Ruby squealed and bounded over, nearly knocking a waiter off balance. The three enjoyed the group hug before breaking apart. 

“I’m glad you two could make it,” Weiss fixed her ponytail a bit, her voice genuine. 

“Of course!” Ruby smiled wide, “We wouldn’t miss this for all the lien in the world.”

Yang made a noise, “Maybe for all the lien in the world.”

Weiss held her hand to her chest, “Yang Xiao Long, are you saying my friendship isn’t more precious than all the lien in the world.”

Yang kept up the charade, “I don’t know Weissy, all the lien is alot of money. It’s all the money, actually.” Yang held her poker face for a few more seconds before cracking her giant grin, “Of course not, Weiss. I value our friendship way more.” 

“Better,” Weiss finished. “By the way, you two cleaned up nicely. I didn’t think you’d have something like this in your closet.”

Yang looked down at her self and turned a bit, “What this old thing? I love my Hunter outfit. It shows off the best parts of me. Plus this new thing,” Yang showed off her black and yellow prosthetic. Ruby sipped at her drink, waiting for Weiss’s reaction.

“By the Maidens, Yang, what happened!?” The Schnee Screech still as loud as she remembered. 

Yang rubbed her ear, waved at the few that looked over at them, “Tone it down, Schnee. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Yang,” Weiss’s voice was low, almost deadpan, “You lost an arm. How is it not as bad as it looks?”

The blond shrugged, “Because I could have lost more? I was just a little careless on a hunt and the guy saw an opening.” Yang patted Weiss’s cheek with her right hand. “See? Now, I’m like, ten percent cyborg.”

Ruby nodded along, “Plus it’s got a heating do-hickey that makes it super warm, so it’s really nice during really cold nights.”

“Yang is her own personal heating unit, she didn’t need the extra heat,” Weiss replied. 

“It’s still nice,” Ruby countered. 

“Plus, needed so the metal and mechanisms don’t freeze on me?” Yang added, reminding them of the actual need of the heating unit. 

The two others shrugged. “Oh, Yang, there was actually someone I wanted you to meet. Then Ruby, if you behave yourself, I’ll let you be the first at the chocolate fountain.” Yang looked curious as Ruby was over the shattered moon.

“Weiss,” Yang followed, “where are you taking me?”

She smiled, “I’m about to change your life.”

Yang shrugged, adjusting her gold bracelet, “By all means, Schnee, lead the way.”

Weiss took the sisters through the crowd until she was behind a family of black haired faunus. Weiss smoothed down the front of her blue-white gradient dress before clearing her throat. The mother and daughter’s cat ears flicked toward Weiss, the father looking up at her. “Sorry to interrupt, Ghira, Kali, Blake. I wanted to introduce two of my oldest friends. Yang Xiao Long and Ruby Rose. Sisters and Huntresses. Actually, Kali, Ghira, if you would follow me and Ruby, I can show you where the best stuff is on the buffet, then we can start making the announcement.” The two older faunus nodded and the four left Blake and Yang in the midst of the crowd. 

“Blake, that’s a nice name,” Yang gave a half smile. Her violet eyes making a slow trip up and down Blake. The outfit Weiss and her mother settled on for Blake was a long white jacket that hugged her body closely, it was left open, showing off the deep purple vest and black chain necklaces that begged for eyes to hang on them to travel lower to the cleavage that was on display. The three gold buttons lead lower to the sliver of skin that was between the vest bottom and top of the tight black pants, and thigh high, heeled midnight purple boots. A white symbol was on the side of her right thigh, a flower, maybe. Yang’s eyes traveled back up Blake’s body and met her piercing yellow eyes. She briefly noticed the cat ears flick toward her. The blonde turned on the charm to full blast.   

Blake tilted her head to the side slightly, her ears flicked back and forth, curiosity clear, “Yang Xiao Long. Where is your family from?” 

Yang smirked and held out her hand, “Not important. So, you strike me as someone who has never been satisfied. Always settling.”

Blake squinted, her ears now fully turned to Yang, one twitched. She shifted her weight, “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you’re forgetting yourself, Yang.” Blake looked up a bit at Yang. Even in heels, the blonde had a few inches on her.

Yang took Blake’s hand, and lead her toward an open balcony. Cleared of snow, the neon lights of Neo Atlas on full display, blues, pinks, greens, purples, and oranges bleeding all together, painting white snow into the array of color. “I’ve never been satisfied myself. I think that’s why Weiss wanted us to meet. She’s... Protective of me and my sister. She told me about you, in one of her messages. Thank you for being a good friend to her.”

Blake relaxed, she started to see past the messy mask Yang tried to wear. Blake took her eyes off the landscape to look at Yang’s profile. She had a soft look on her face, calm. She turned to meet Blake’s eyes. “She’s done good work, and it was thanks to her getting rid of her father that the two of us met. I must admit, she mentioned a rambunctious pair of sisters that she needed me to meet. I’m glad she gave us this chance.” Blake gave a shy smile, tucking some of her hair behind a human ear, her cat ears relaxed. “So, Weiss said you were a Huntress. Where did you study? I tried to get into Beacon, but... Life pulled me elsewhere.”

Yang grinned and stood up a bit straighter, “Self taught. Mostly. Had some pointers from my dad and uncle. I’m glad life pulled you here.” Blake felt a blush run up her neck and color her cheeks. She hoped that the chill of the night would take the blame. Yang stood a little closer, her natural warmth rolled off her like nice, spring day. Blake was drawn toward it, their shoulders touching. “But yeah, I’m a Huntress. It’s been a good life.”

Blake took Yang in again, then nodded toward her arm, “Even if you need modifications?”   

Yang held up her right hand then made a fist, “Hazards of the job. Plus, it’s an improvement. What about you? Besides pretty much being a princess, are you doing anything else?”

Blake’s ears flattened, and she rubbed her arms, “Um, well, I’m looking for--”

“Blake!” The girls turned to see Kali, Blake’s mother. “The announcement is about to happen. Your father wants you there.”

Blake and Yang stood up from leaning on the railing of the balcony. “Continue this later?” Blake looked hopeful as she asked. 

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I’m hard to miss,” Yang gave a wink. Blake smiled then headed inside with her mother. 

Weiss met with Yang as she came back in, handing her the abandoned drink, slightly watered down from the melted ice, “Yang, I have a favor to ask. There is another reason I asked you here tonight, besides just wanting to see you.” Yang sipped at her drink, urging Weiss to continue. “I would like you and Ruby to keep an eye out during the announcement. Some of my people,” Weiss’s little snowflakes, her spies, “have mentioned weird figures about these last few weeks. I want you to make sure Ghira, Kali, and Blake are protected.”

“Can I assume Ruby will be trained on you?” Yang’s voice dropped a bit, her eyes had an edge to them, she was in work mode. She popped a panel up from her arm and pulled out a small ear piece and put it in her ear. It turned on and she beeped it twice. Ruby responded in a similar fashion. 

“Yes. She has Crescent Rose on her back, and she’s finding the best place to be. You can stay near the Belladonnas. I remember you working best close up,” Weiss lead Yang toward the raised floor, a bit of a platform toward the back of the ball room. The party had gone on for a bit now, most of the guests have arrived, and the main event is about to happen. Yang finished off her drink and nodded. She adjusted herself and headed over toward the Belladonna family. 

Weiss stepped up to the square mic presented, she was handed a champagne flute and tapped it a few times. The ballroom quieted and Weiss cleared her throat. “Tonight, friends, colleagues, allies, employees. I’ve invited you here tonight to celebrate a history making moment. I have been working closely with some important people to make this all possible. After taking back and rebuilding the Schnee name, I made it a personal mission to repair and strengthen the relationship between Neo Atlas and the faunus.” Weiss paused for the applause before continuing. “Standing with me is the chieftain of Menagerie, Ghira Belladonna, and his lovely family, Kali and Blake. They have become some of my most trusted partners and closest friends in this endeavor. Now, you will all bear witness to a peace treaty between Neo Atlas and Menagerie. The abolishing of the laws against faunus, and the beginning of a new era of peace and camaraderie. Ghira if you would join me?”

The large man stepped up, and he first signed the document, then Weiss. And with that, peace was solidified. 

Yang surveyed the room, and all seemed to go along smoothly. That was until she saw Blake’s ear twitch and turn toward the left side of the room. Yang’s head whipped toward the corner and saw a figure walk out of one of the darker balconies. “What a beautiful speech Miss Schnee,” his voice echoed through out the room, rolling over in waves, surprise and confusing washing over the crowd. Yang sent a pulse of her aura into her bracelet, and it expanded into a gauntlet, complete with shot gun shells. She chanced a look up, finding Ruby, sniper rifle already trained on the new person. Yang moved to stand in front of Kali and Blake.

“Who are you?” Weiss called out, speaking into the mic.

The man strode forward, her black clothing dull until red trim hummed to life, glowing faintly, a rose symbol flared then remained at a constant brightness. His black mask flickered and hummed, it turned white with red stripes. His sick smile added to the creepiness of his entrance. At his side was a sword with a bulky sheath. “A messenger. I am to inform you that this peace will not last long. This tranquility will be broken. And Jacques Schnee will reclaim what was stolen from him. So enjoy tonight Miss Schnee. It’ll be the last victory you have over your father.” 

Without another word, his form blinked out, as if turning off a screen. Yang looked up at Weiss, her hands balled into fists. Blake’s hand clenched and gripping Yang’s shoulder. Yang glanced back at the faunus, her face pale. “Blake?”

“They’re back. He’s back. The White Fang.”

Yang’s jaw hung open a bit. Kali’s hand moved to her mouth, “And Jacques Schnee is working with them?”

Everyone in the room was as quiet as the grave. Yang buzzed Ruby, “You see anything, kid?”

Ruby was quick to respond, “Nada. I took a quick look around the perimeter, there’s nothing. Not even a darn foot print in the snow.” 

Yang cursed, “I’ll stick close, but it seems like that’s all that was, a message.”

“Message delivered,” Weiss sneered, Ghira at her side. Hushed conversation spread across the room. 

“Weiss, we’ll keep Ruby on you. And I’ll stick with the Belladonnas. They are staying here tonight, right?” Weiss nodded, “Perfect. Me and Rubes will expect our rooms ready, then.” Yang gave a usual smile, something to try to calm the hearts around her. She gripped Weiss’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, Weiss. You got the Xiao Long-Rose sisters here. Everything will be ok.”

Weiss nodded and hugged Yang. She stepped away as Ruby appeared moments later, rose petals scattered about her. Yang turned to the Belladonnas, “No worry folks. You are safe as long as I’m around.” Yang’s heart fluttered and skipped a step when she noticed Blake smile. 

So much for vacation. 

TBC in Chapter 2    

[rrrawrf-writes]

michaelmas

time for my contribution to michaelmas!!!!

i almost feel like a cheat bc i rarely call rembrandt ‘michael,’ but for the record, i did name him that well before this ever became a thing, so it’s still legal :K

this is actually also an au, where instead of getting winn thrown in jail for ruining his life, michael rembrandt decides to turn the other cheek and help winn realize his childhood dream of becoming a superhero........... :)

ALSO I ALMOST FORGOT THIS IS BASED OFF A PROMPT FROM @gingerly-writing​ THAT I TORE UP A LIL FOR MY OWN PURPOSES

also @michael-lover-anon​

“So.” Rembrandt slid onto the barstool next to Winn, peeling off black leather gloves. “What do I need to order you to solicit some help?”

Winn shouldn't have been drinking - even on his day off - but here he was anyway, his head pillowed on his arms and a single glass in front of him. Too much alcohol made his power go odd, and he guessed he was reaching that point, because he hadn't noticed Rembrandt until the man spoke.

“The whole bar,” Winn mumbled into the crook of his elbow. As always, when Rembrandt was around, his skin crawled and his legs twitched with the need to get away.

“Done,” Rembrandt said simply. He turned around on the barstool, leaning his elbows back against the counter. Even in the dim lighting, he looked thoroughly out of place here, in his usual black suit and tie and polished leather shoes. Winn, who actually worked for a living, was resplendent in a dark green sweater and jeans that were torn at the bottom.

He wanted to punch the smugness right off of Rembrandt’s face. Instead, Winn just rolled his eyes.

“What?” Rembrandt grinned, his gaze roving over Winn’s less than impressive attire. “I’m rich. Oh, and I own this bar anyway.”

Winn lifted his head at that. “Since when?” he demanded - this was one of the very few places he’d been certain Rembrandt didn't have his fingers in. It was on the edge of the city, far away from anything convenient or useful. There was literally nothing out here - except maybe the fish and chips - that could have interested someone like Rembrandt.

Rembrandt gave him a slow, cat-like smile. “Since yesterday.”

“Go screw yourself,” Winn snarled, shoving himself away from the bar and standing up. His power wavered uncertainly, along with the rest of him. “Give me a week off from Fell’s bull.”

“Done.”

Winn hesitated, then. He put a hand out to brace himself on the bar and narrowed his eyes at Rembrandt. “You’re being awfully accommodating, considering you basically exist just to ruin my life.”

“Well, that was when all I needed from you was entertainment,” Rembrandt said pleasantly. “Now I need help.”

“Entertainment?” Winn’s outraged yelp was enough to startle half the bar into looking at them. He ground his teeth together, then leaned in towards Rembrandt, his hand on the bar curling into a fist. “I don't do any of this for your entertainment.”

Rembrandt’s eyes glinted. “Don't kid yourself, Mr. Yale.”

“Get lost, Remy,” Winn snarled back. Rembrandt dropped his pleasant smile like a ton of bricks. His eyes shifted to a point over Winn’s shoulder.

Winn noticed the curling, tendril-like beginnings of one of Fell’s portals too late. It formed directly underneath him, and Winn could feel the solidity of the floor turn viscous and paper-thin. He cursed, but before he could step away, Rembrandt gave him a good shove, and Winn fell through.

He hit the ground hard on his back, knocking the wind out of him. The portal closed some three meters above his head, leaving Winn to stare at the dark ceiling of what might’ve been a subway tunnel years ago. His power automatically spread as he struggled to get in a full lungful of air, and he realized that about six meters in each direction, the tunnel ended. One side was the natural, constructed end; the other was a cave-in.

Another portal whirlpooled open over to the left, some five feet above the ground. Rembrandt fell through, landing on his feet with far more grace than Winn had managed, not even taking his hands out of his pockets for balance. Fell themself teleported in without the use of a portal, as far from Winn and Rembrandt as they could manage.

Winn coughed and rolled himself over. “Are you serious, Remy?” he snapped, shoving himself to his feet. He marked Rembrandt and Fell both with his power, backing away. “You don’t get enough of the bloody gladiator games from TV, you gotta watch us up close now?”

Rembrandt had picked up a collapsible baton somewhere along the way; he gave it an idle swing through the air. “I told you, Yale, I’m not here for entertainment,” he said coldly. “I thought I told you to stop calling me Remy.”

“Thought you told me you were gonna give me a week off from Fell,” Winn retorted. Fell didn’t say anything, not like Winn ever expected them to - he’d never heard them utter a single word in all this time, not even when Winn was lucky enough to score a real hit. They wore a black bandanna over their nose and mouth; tonight, the hood of their sweater was pulled low over their eyes, and they scuffed their shoe over the gravelly floor when Winn looked at them.

“Well, you didn’t seem amenable to my request.” Rembrandt snapped his fingers. “Don’t worry about Fell, Yale. You’re dealing with me tonight.”

Winn’s full attention locked onto Rembrandt, and he felt a chill run down his spine. The only edge he had over Rembrandt was that he was powered, and Rembrandt was not - but right now, Winn was feeling buzzed - probably past that, if he had to be honest with himself - and his power was having just enough trouble focusing that he knew he was royally screwed.

“We could’ve talked about this up there,” Winn pointed out, taking a couple steps back. His power scrambled to find him an escape route as he talked, but there wasn’t one. Winn quelled a small bubble of panic. “You don’t have to be so dramatic all the time.”

Rembrandt’s eyebrows arched. “Dramatic? Yale, I only wanted a simple yes or no. You’re the one being dramatic, throwing a temper tantrum in public like that.”

Winn scoffed. “Listen, Mikey -”

He didn’t get a chance to finish.

Rembrandt snapped forward; Winn hissed through his teeth and skipped back, stumbling a little. He knew he shouldn’t’ve gone out tonight - should’ve just gone to bed early -

He was too focused on the baton in Rembrandt’s hand that he didn’t notice Rembrandt’s kick, driving into the side of his knee. Winn staggered, swearing and bracing a hand against the wall. He was too slow to get out of the way, and so he put his arm up, instead.

The baton cracked against his forearm and part of his face regardless; Rembrandt ducked in and drove his fist into Winn’s stomach. He stepped back once Winn was on the ground, heaving for breath again.

“I’m sorry,” Rembrandt said mildly, “what were you saying?”

Winn raised his middle finger and wheezed, “Screw you.”

“Mm-hmm.” Rembrandt backed up, letting the baton hang from a cord around his wrist as he adjusted his sleeves. Winn, eyes closed, let himself lay there for a moment. Fell still hadn’t moved from their corner. “Who made you, Wings?”

Oh. They were back to this again. Winn clenched his jaw. “Your mum.”

Rembrandt crouched down on his haunches next to Winn, who tried to hide his flinch. He was still on his back on the ground, and right next to the rough stone wall; Rembrandt had him pinned. Poking Winn’s ribs with the baton, Rembrandt prompted, “Try again.”

Winn tried to push himself up into a sitting position, but Rembrandt laid the baton warningly across his chest and Winn froze, his eyes darting to the little button on the handle. Rembrandt smoothed a thumb over it in warning.

Closing his eyes, Winn flopped back against the hard ground and let out a long, slow breath. Hating himself, he bit out, “You did.”

“That’s right,” Rembrandt said quietly. “And so, who can break you?”

“You can.” Winn’s voice was flat and dull, but the response was good enough for Rembrandt, who nodded and pushed himself back up to his feet.

“I would think,” he said, turning to walk a few steps away, “you’d be more grateful to the man who helped you gain such a persona, Wings.”

Winn let out a bitter laugh as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. “All you did was make me’n’Fell fight each other on TV.”

“No,” Rembrandt said sharply, “I think I did quite a bit more than that. I made room for you both. Strongarm, Sharp, Death Valley - do you really think they just decided to pack up and move?”

Strongarm had been bribed into retirement. Sharp was dead, Winn was pretty sure; the hero had just disappeared from the streets, as far as the public was concerned, but his own personal investigations had culminated in the obituary of a young woman covered in burns in her mother’s house.

And Death Valley worked for Rembrandt now, down the coast.

Of course, Rembrandt hadn’t told either Winn or Fell any of that. They’d had to figure it out on their own.

“I get it, Remy,” Winn said tiredly.

“There wouldn’t have been any opportunity for the two of you in this city,” Rembrandt continued, “if I hadn’t arranged it.”

“We get it, Rembrandt,” Winn snapped this time. He used the wall to get back up to his feet, as Rembrandt shot him an irritated look. Taking a breath, Winn glanced over at Fell. They almost blended completely into the dark tunnel, huddling inside an oversized hoodie over form-fitting leggings.

Fighting them always felt wrong to Winn. He couldn’t be sure why - but they both owed Rembrandt, so when he arranged their little battle royales to cover up his own operations, they obliged. Winn wasn’t sure that the hype and prestige Wings was getting from it all as a supposed hero was worth this.

“Do you, Yale?” Rembrandt asked skeptically. “Because lately, all I’ve been getting from you is one ungrateful comment after another. You barely give Fell any exercise anymore. They’re getting lazy.”

Fell didn’t do much, either, Winn thought. “Don’t talk about them like that.”

Rembrandt arched an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Winn opened his mouth, but behind Rembrandt, Fell gave a quick shake of their head, eyes widening. Winn shut his mouth again, then said, “Maybe I’m not grateful because all that stuff you spouted, the fame and the money - I’m not getting any of that.”

Rembrandt scoffed. “I can only work with what I’m given, Yale, and I’m not a miracle worker. I’m giving you a chance, but you have to put in the work.” He tipped his head slightly. “You’re abrasive and antagonistic. Hero or not, no one’s going to like you when you act like that.”

He was right. As Winn remained silent, Rembrandt continued. “We’ve wasted enough time. The Liberty Guard has something in their New York branch office, Yale, I need you to get it for me.”

Winn stared at him. “No.”

The sharp look Rembrandt gave him made Winn start sidling away from the wall, so that Rembrandt couldn’t trap him against it again. “I’m not - I’m not going to steal from the Liberty Guard, Rembrandt, are you insane? The New York guard? They’ll kill me!”

“And I would be overwhelmed with sorrow to hear that,” Rembrandt deadpanned.

Winn ground his teeth. “I can’t.”

“No, I think you can,” Rembrandt said. “You’ve stolen from Wildcard - they’ll be a cakewalk in comparison. What’s the real reason, Yale?”

“There isn’t one,” Winn snapped, “Except they think I’m a bloody hero, what d’you think they’ll do if I’m found out?”

Rembrandt looked unconvinced. “Yale, you’ve been up to New York three times in the past two months alone. You aren’t even up there to help them with their own problems.”

“Maybe I just like New York,” Winn said.

“You don’t.” Rembrandt narrowed his eyes, and then let out a single, sharp laugh of disbelief. “Did you make some friends?”

“Screw you,” Winn snapped. Rembrandt grinned at him, hands on his hips.

“You did. Or are you just trying to? Mewling at their door like those little lost animals you like to adopt so much? Hoping they’ll take in a little stray like you.”

Winn, scowling, stalked down the side of the tunnel, towards Fell’s space. Maybe he could get them to teleport him out of this bloody hole in the ground.

Rembrandt took two steps towards him and Winn flinched, stumbling over a chunk of debris. Rembrandt snorted.

“Are you lonely, Yale?” he asked, “or is this just a bid to get out from under my thumb?”

Winn put his back to Rembrandt, teeth clenched so hard his jaw ached, and tried his level best to ignore him. Get me out of here, he mouthed at Fell, but they just shrank into their sweater and shook their head. When Winn got a few steps closer, Fell dissipated into black smoke, inky against the dim shadows of the tunnel, and then reformed at the opposite end. Winn couldn’t help but throw a curse at them.

Rembrandt stepped up behind Winn. Instead of moving away, Winn forced himself to stay put, staring furiously at the heap of rubble and dirt that blocked him from running.

“You don't have friends for a good reason, Winn,” Rembrandt said quietly. “You're a tool. In every definition of the word possible. At best, they tolerate you because they need you.”

“Shut up,” Winn snarled over his shoulder. “Can you not go one day with being a stuck-up prick?”

He picked up mentally on Rembrandt’s movement, and didn't realize it was a feint as he jerked to the side, his reflexes - along with his power - far too dulled to be dealing with this. Rembrandt’s foot swept his ankles just as Winn stepped, and he hit the ground again. Hard.

“You want a day off from me?” Rembrandt asked, standing over him. He smiled thinly. “Done. Fell, give me a portal.”

“Wait, what?” Winn started to push himself up, but then Rembrandt pulled his foot back and swung it directly into Winn’s face.

“Fuck!” Winn shouted, rolling over - partially from the blow, partially to keep from Rembrandt kicking him again. He cupped his hand over his face, blood already spilling out of his nose; behind him, Rembrandt stalked over to the portal Fell had opened.

“I’ll be back,” Rembrandt glanced at his wristwatch, “at 11:39 tomorrow night. One full day, Wings, just like you asked.”

Winn swore and shoved himself up to his feet - and then stumbled back to his knees again, dizzy and nauseous. “Wait - Wait, please, Remy -”

“Don’t call me that.” Rembrandt turned to look squarely at Winn, the black portal swirling behind him. “Why don’t you give your new friends a call? Surely they’ll come to your rescue.”

Winn gritted his teeth, tasting blood inside his mouth, as well as on his lips, feeling it dribble from a cut on his cheek from where the heel of Rembrandt’s shoe had struck him.

They wouldn’t come. They wouldn’t come help Winn, and Rembrandt knew it.

“Twenty-four hours, Winn, down to the second. Then we’ll see what your answer is.”

“It’s fuck you!” Winn snarled, against every single instinct in his brain that screamed at him to stop, to make peace, just enough to get him out of here -

Rembrandt just smiled, stepped backwards into the portal, and disappeared.

[dragonnan]

Speaking at a panel at the London Film and Comic-Con today, the 41-year-old said that there could only be one character his detective could be coupled with in the BBC hit series.“Now, there’s only one choice, isn’t there? Come on,” he told the audience of fans, before jokingly adding: “Doctor Watson.” He continued on a more serious note, explaining: “I think it would have to be Molly, wouldn’t it? Love for him, after all, would be thinking more - maybe that’s asking too much - maybe thinking as much of someone else as he thinks of himself.”

Headcanon Times:

I know everyone, including the actors, have their opinions about the characters but this is one where I fully, fully agree with Ben.  I want to be clear, I don’t watch Sherlock for romance - though romance, in the broader sense, is integral within the series as a whole.  It is heightened and artistic and deep and exciting and adventurous and funny and witty and terrifying and, yes, heartbreakingly romantic, too.

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I had always viewed Irene as Sherlock’s first real exposure to love.  I think there was an immediate attraction and, possibly (without knowing a thing of his history and only going on what the series implied) his first physical experience as well.  I’m very much in the camp that believes he and Irene had a physical encounter after he rescued her from being executed.  I think he pined after her for many years but I also find it telling that he rarely engaged her no matter how often she texted him.  I think he didn’t know what to do with his emotions regarding her and, as has been his method regarding strong emotions, he set them to the side rather than face them head on.  “You didn't win, you lost. Look what you did to her. Look what you did to yourself, all those complicated little emotions, I lost count. Emotional context, it destroys you, every time.”

If the man Sherlock has become is his memory of Eurus then it’s no wonder than his view on emotions would be skewed towards seeing them as a crutch rather than a strength.  His connections with people were severely damaged between his two siblings - Eurus for her own inability to healthily relate to others plus, you know, murdering his best friend - and Mycroft, for keeping that truth hidden and for teaching Sherlock that human connection is something to despise.  At least Mycroft has begun to see how badly he’d wronged his brother, in that regard.

When he met Irene, he’d already begun opening himself up to humanity again.  John was a healer beyond his abilities as a doctor.  He was crucial to pulling Sherlock back from the edge -possibly - just in time.  It’s terrifying to imagine what would have happened to Sherlock had John not entered his life when he did.  Because of John’s influence and heart, Sherlock’s emotional walls developed a significant crack.  So, that, by the time he’d met Irene, he was already in a place where he could be blindsided by the power of these newly reborn feelings.  I think there’s even room to speculate that Sherlock’s emotions towards Irene were so incredibly powerful BECAUSE he hadn’t had much practice with them, yet.  To use the familiar cliche it was like gaining sight where once he’d been blind.  He was overwhelmed and, as much as Sherlock could be, nearly sick with his infatuation. (bear in mind, still, this is speculation.  Sherlock has always maintained an outer cool for a good portion of the series and there are very few times he’s shown his chaotic feelings - but we’ll get to that...).  

We know Molly, by this point, has had an ongoing crush on him and it is implied, based on his response to her, that Christmas, that he possibly wasn’t truly aware of that.  Or, at least, not the depth of it - given his shock at reading her card.  It makes me wonder, then, what, if any, real experience he’s had with attention from someone who views him in a sexual way.  Obviously, with John’s blog making him a celebrity, that would have begun to change quite quickly - not that Sherlock has ever had the desire for such distractions (that he’d have felt desire, in and of itself, is another matter entirely.  Ben has stated that he did not view Sherlock as cut off from things such as arousal - but that he’d have repressed them in order to put all of his energies into the Work). When he’d believed Irene to be dead, he came very close to using again - or, possibly, something even worse.  There isn’t time to explore what he may actually have done because she revealed herself soon afterwards.  It is clear, though, that his care for her developed very fast.  He’d met her just one time - was outsmarted by her - drugged by her - and then began receiving repeated suggestive texts from her.  And, shortly thereafter, he composed an incredibly moving and emotional sonnet for her.  Even Ben isn’t certain whether what Sherlock felt was more love or more lust.  I don’t know that it is always one or the other as so often those things are intertwined - though possibly weighted more heavily on the physical.  In any event, without delving too far into Irene’s relationship, it feels as though they have little to build on, between them, beyond the physical.  They play cat and mouse.  They have a game of outwitting one another.  But beyond wordplay and the occasional whip...  Irene would never be a true partner.  She has a life she loves and a career that, by its nature, does not mesh with the sort of partnership needed between a man and wife (not that I think she’d ever want something as domestic as that).  On top of all of that, she already has a steady female partner that she obviously loves and Sherlock is an aberration for her.  He’s a temporary delight but I cannot see any scenario where she’d want to be at his side, through ups and downs, falling off the wagon, getting lost in his work, family dramas... Well, point in fact, she never was.        

So, now to the part of this musing that I’ve been building towards.

I gave myself a series of questions and I’ve spent a few weeks, actually, thinking about them.  Faithful characterization is really important to me.  I want to see the honesty of how a character is represented without overlaying intent just because I WANT to see it.  (to be clear, this is not a comment on fanfiction or various pairings or anything of the sort.  This is me trying to parse the authentic character, based on what I've interpreted on screen, for my own creative process).  

Sherlock's relationship with John is a powerful friendship that has laid the groundwork towards developing his emotional balance. While he will always be a bit of an arse – suspicious of overt emotional displays – in short, he'll be himself – he has also warmed up in ways that would not have come about otherwise.

Molly is the first person that Sherlock, at least on screen, apologizes to. The reason being for his callous cruelty when he chose to deduce the reason for a gift she'd brought – correct motivations but incorrect recipient in that he hadn't connected the dots in that the gift was for him. Instantly abashed for causing her humiliation, he apologized, begged her forgiveness, and kissed her cheek.

Of course, Sherlock now starts to exploit her infatuation because, still, he doesn't really get what love is all about. He doesn't seem to see what it is to emotionally hurt someone because he's cut off proper access to his own heart. In fact, to leap ahead, it is amazing character growth to contrast his early interactions with her – faking interest in her hair and make up just to have access to bodies – against his honest pleading with her to say “I love you” and then having an absolute melt-down when he realized Eurus had used him to emotionally bludgeon Molly.

“You look sad, when you think, he can't see you.” Molly is one of the few people that Sherlock cannot bluff his way around. But this moment also reveals that she is one of the few people he trusts enough to show his real feelings. Yes, he will show John those feelings as well, but in this circumstance he simply couldn't afford to. But he had to be able to relieve some of that emotional stress with someone and Molly was the one he turned to – even if he wasn't initially aware that he was doing so.

Sherlock Holmes: [waiting for Molly in the darkened lab, she enters and is startled when he begins to speak] You're wrong, you know. You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you. But you were right. I'm not okay.

Molly Hooper: Tell me what's wrong.

Sherlock Holmes: Molly... I think I'm going to die.

Molly Hooper: What do you need?

Sherlock Holmes: If I wasn't everything that you think I am, everything that I think I am... would you still want to help me?

Molly Hooper: What do you need?

Sherlock Holmes: You.

When Sherlock prepared to fake his death, one of the few people he implicitly trusted to help him was Molly. Not only did he trust her, he approached her in a very open and emotional way. He didn't simply ask her for help. I've thought a lot about the above lines and Sherlock's build up and what it all meant. What I end up with, basically, is him asking would she help him even if he wasn't the near legend that he has become... if he were the lie he's going to be forced to assume in order to make John think he's suicidal. And Molly doesn't hesitate. She will follow him into hell. And I think this might be a moment where Sherlock was still unaware of how MUCH she was devoted to him. Thus his hesitancy. And, yet, he trusts her completely.

Later, Sherlock spent time living with her while in hiding and sleeping in her room while she took the spare room. “We agreed he needed the space”. I don't, however, believe there was anything intimate going on between them and just given Molly's comments on it, it seems as though it was more awkward for her than anything.

Molly was the one Sherlock asked to go investigating when John was angry with him. He was very quick to understand that it was a one time thing because she was engaged. This was the second time he kissed her cheek; and followed it by saying she deserved every happiness. It's suggestible that he acknowledges her feelings for him by saying not every man she falls for can be a sociopath. Of course, one could read that he's referring to Moriarty but after such a tender moment that would seem a little crass. Though, this IS Sherlock and likely he would think that was a kindness. I find everything about this incredibly interesting. For one, though I've never thought there was anything romantic between John and Sherlock – there also were never any questions that John would investigate with Sherlock regardless as to whom he was seeing/married to. It simply wasn't a factor. For Molly, however, her being with someone else means she can't possibly do this with Sherlock. Why? Because of her feelings for him and, more, him recognizing and respecting that he cannot compromise that. While it doesn't say anything about his feelings for her, beyond friendship, it DOES show that he cares about her and won't ask her to do anything that makes her uncomfortable (another step forwards from series 1 Sherlock). It does, also, reveal something else. That if Molly hadn't been engaged, Sherlock would have welcomed her as a partner and that he'd enjoyed his day with her. Even if they weren't able to go out for chips after – his invitation.

The two people asked to be godparents of Rosie were Sherlock and Molly. If John also died, Sherlock and Molly would instantly be co-parents. I just wanted to throw that out there.

Molly is one of the people entrusted to look after Sherlock when he falls off the wagon. It's a short list.

When Sherlock is dying, it's a mental version of Molly who appears and saves his life. Now, for me, that IS telling in that John is the doctor and yet Molly is the one Sherlock's frantic brain latches onto first.

Finally, as was mentioned earlier, we have the infamous “I love you”. We've seen Sherlock fake emotion – fake tears – fake fear and very skillfully, too. He's gotten one over on John many times. With Molly, though, I feel as though he's learned a hard lesson about hurting her. He's trying to do better by her so he gives her his genuine feelings. And, certainly, in this moment he can't afford otherwise. He believes she'll die and Molly will not say the words unless he does first. “Say it like you mean it” may well have been stated “say it so I could believe it.” And, in fact, the first time he says it, she doesn't appear to believe it. She can tell when he lies and, I think for a long time now, she can tell when he's faking kindness to manipulate her. This is where my honest belief about this comes into play. That in order to get her to say the words to him, he had to speak truthfully. An I think that was why it was so tremendously devastating. It opened a wound he hadn't realized existed until that moment – something far deeper and FAR more demanding than that long ago emotion he'd felt for Irene. Irene would never be compromised by a declaration of love. It's possible she may even find it tragic because part of me thinks Irene, too, finds emotional investment to be compromising. I actually think there's a lot of evidence to support that. With Molly, though; who has carried this steady love for so many years – have carried Sherlock through his tragedies, has been emotional support and safety... he cannot wedge open his heart like this for the moment it takes to “save her”, only to close it once more. This is something that has ramifications for the both of them and there is every chance this forced enlightenment comes at the cost of something he wasn't given the time to figure out and act upon. In finally figuring out he loves her he may have lost her in that same breath.

If ever there is a season 5 I wonder that this would even be explored. It's hard to say. But if this is, really, the end of the show it is just as easy to see where it COULD lead.   

[fin-flora]

A day in the life of a shapeshifter (fur, ears and a tail.)

read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13800399

tags: fluff, shapeshifting au, neko!dan, basically me writing down an idea - fluff without a plot.

rating: T

words: 2386

Summary: Sometimes Dan and Phil just want to spend a whole Sunday on the sofa, cuddled up together as they do everything and nothing in between. And sometimes Dan likes to be a Neko so he shifts into one.

Phil was woken up by something digging into his ribs. He tried to move away from it, but the thing had a tight grip around his chest, nuzzling into his side as pointy fingers dug into him. Phil couldn’t really see in the sea of sheets he was currently drowning in and as Dan nudged his face further into his chest he tried to writhe away to no avail. He made a sound somewhere between a giggle and strangled noise, “Dan stop” he said breathlessly as he tried to get his hands between himself and Dan.

Something soft and fluffy moved over his leg, a brisk movement that made his head snap down to his (at the moment a bit annoying) partner in life, a surprised giggle leaving his mouth as he saw an ear poke out from under their duvet.

A cat-esque ear. Not a human one. Phil sighed in relief as he finally got a hold of Dan.

He turned him and pinned him to the mattress, lying chest to chest, both breathing a bit heavily. Dan had a broad grin on his face as he looked provocative back up at Phil, his ears curiously peeking out and towards him as his tail twitched somewhere under the sheets. Phil just slowly shook his head, a smile on his face as well. “Are we playing cat today, hm?” Phil asked with a quiet voice, his eyes wandering over Dans features who only gave him a small playful “meow” as an answer, giggling a bit.

He knew it was one of Dan’s favourite things about being able to shapeshift. He loved to blur the lines, creating himself in a way nature didn’t intend to, mixing two species instead of deciding on one. Not every shapeshifter was able to do this, most had to finish the transformation into the other species. Most couldn't choose and pick what part of their body to transform at what point in time or calculate how much they wanted to shift.

Dan was special in that way, Phil thought with a warm feeling in his chest as his right hand moved to his cute fluffy ear, poking out between his curly mess of what normal people called hair. He moved his fingers behind it and rubbed over the sensitive spot he assumed Dan included. He watched his boyfriends face turn slack as purrs started to roll through his chest, closing his eyes, vibrations continuing on Phil's skin. Yes, he is a special one. A smirk grew on his face as he watched him enjoy the attention.

Phil contemplated the why as he saw Dan turn his face, nuzzling his left arm and making more space to be caressed, squirming a little under Phil's bodyweight, still pressing into him. He felt Dan’s tail curl around his leg again, twitching slightly. Phil moved his legs to Dan's sides, sitting in his lap rather than lying on top of him, taking some of the pressure off of Dan’s slightly more fragile body frame. Another thing he changed about his appearance today.

Dan purred even louder, pushing back into Phil’s touch, his big brown eyes looking back up at him. He leaned down and closed the space between their lips, leaving a tentative kiss on the corner of his mouth before he looked him into the eyes again. “And what does my kitten want?” Phil was close but he saw Dan twitch at the pet name, ears poking into his direction as his eyes grew slightly.

Phil grinned down at him, a chuckle escaping before Dan moved his mouth to Phil's arm, lips pressing against it in a kiss before he licked it with little movements a few times, purrs getting louder. Phil just watched in aw, not that it was anything new, but it was still captivating.

Dan's eyes moved back to his, a soft smile on his face almost a bit timid looking as he finally spoke, “I want a lazy Sunday on the couch with you.” His voice was his normal one, maybe sounding a bit smaller and croaky than he usually would let it but that was just Dan. He could feel Dan's free hand move over his back, caressing the skin over his spine, nails scratching back up and causing Phil to shiver, goosebumps rising on his arms.

Phil hummed and moved his lips back to Dan’s, another gentle kiss before he moved off of him, a happy feeling flowing through his body as he kneeled over him, looking down. “Do you want coffee or tea?” Phil asked, pulling Dan up easily. Dan wrapped his arms around Phil's chest, nuzzling his belly. “Both” Phil chuckled and rubbed behind Dan’s ears for a moment, cupping his head with his hands and massaging the spots as he asked, “do you have enough energy stored for staying shifted all day?” He couldn't help the worry from sounding through his voice, but he made a habit of checking in with Dan so his anxiety was calmed and so there wasn't any danger.

Dan hummed into his stomach and bit playfully into the flesh under his belly button, sucking on it before he let go to look up with soft features and a small smile, “stop worrying, I have more than enough for the next week.” Phil rolled his eyes before he gave Dan an accepting smile. “Alright, I need coffee. come on.” He let go of Dan's ears and climbed out of bed, a smirk on his face as he added “I think we have some smoked salmon left-” he giggled as he heard Dan snort-laugh in offence and humour from the bed, a pillow hitting his back as he pulled on some sweatpants.

He turned around with a T-shirt in his hands, eyes wandering over Dan's naked body as he climbed out of their bed. His tail was brown and fluffy with a black tip. It nervously twitched as he turned around to notice that Phil was watching him. He flipped an eyebrow at him as he walked over to their closet, pulling out a box with fitted clothes, ones that left enough space for his tail.

Phil let his hand wander over Dans back, down his spine to his lower back where the fur started. It was soft and thick but somehow light. Dan turned around with a soft smile on his face as he pulled on some loose black pants, closing them with a button over his tail. Phil moved closer, their difference in height making his lips twitch into a smile. Dan was slightly smaller than him, like he was with just 18, making Phil's stomach do a little flip as he wrapped his arms around him.

Dan's ears tickled his cheek as they stayed like this for a moment, Phil sighing as Dan purred again, humming into Phil's neck as he played with his ear. Phil left a kiss on one before he spoke again, “I’m going to make coffee and tea, come join me in the lounge?” he only mumbled into Dan's tousled hair. Dan hummed and nodded, his tail wrapping itself around Phil’s leg, he squeezed Phil one more time before they let go of each other.

---

They reconnected in the upstairs lounge. Phil had put in some effort and made some toast going along with their coffee and tea. Everything was spread out on the couch table and they were sitting cuddled up on the couch together, enjoying a normal Sunday morning. Phil picked out some nature documentary, giving some back noise to their conversation.

The only little difference was that Dan had a tail wrapped around himself, leisurely swaying over the edge of the couch. Phil watched him out of the corner of his eyes as he took a bite of his toast (topped with smoked salmon), ears twitching up as he groaned quietly, chewing with pleasure.

Phil took a sip of his coffee, leaning back as he continued to watch Dan eat, appreciating his weird mannerisms. His hand moved mindlessly over Dans back, playing with his tail from time to time as he focused on the tv again. He felt the best kind of content, happy and relaxed as they sat together on their couch, doing nothing in particular but spending time together.

And as the day went on, they stayed there. Breakfast and nature documentary turned into Nintendo and snacks. That, on the other hand, turned into a tickle fight as Phil stubbornly cheated, claiming Dan was too good.

Dan threw the controller on his side of the couch, pointing his finger at Phil threateningly who hid behind the blanket, “stop cheating Lester.” Phil's eyes went wide “I’m not!” his giggle gave him away and Dan raised his eyebrows, ears and tail twitching annoyed as he crawled closer to him, poking him with his index finger all over “Dan-, stop. Not again-.” He laughed as Dan started to tickle his sides, mumbling, “You little shit-” and slumped himself down on Phil, elbow almost hitting something, well sensitive.

“Ouch!” Phil tried to fake but continued to breathlessly laugh as Dan sat on him, he saw his annoyance turn into a smirk. “Yeah sure- `ouch` little mister Philly lying again.” Dan teased. Phil laughed, he couldn't stop, tears in his eyes as he gasped for air. “Dan stop! Someone’s going to be-” Dan played unfairly and hit him with a pillow in the face “-hurt and it's not me, you lightweight!” Phil choked out, grabbing for Dan's arms. But Dan had other plans and grabbed for another pillow, losing his balance as Phil moved under him.

Dan squealed strangely and Phil just barely got a hold of him before could fall off the couch, and maybe seriously hurting himself with all the junk they left on the table, in the span of a few hours. Phil pulled him closer, still chuckling a bit as Dan buried his face into his neck, sighing audible, clearly relieved, biting playfully into the soft skin.

Phil poked him into his side, “you idiot.” His voice meant no harm as he continued to chuckle, not letting go of Dan. Who apparently had decided it was time for more cuddles anyways, occupying the little space between Phil and the couch. Phil felt him nuzzle his cheek, leaving a soft kiss and he couldn't do anything but smile at that.

His hand wandered up to caress him, wanting to hear him purr again. They stayed cuddled up together, not caring about time. The only sounds in the room were the Nintendo game in the background, heavily overlayed with Dan's deep purrs. Phil couldn't hold himself back as he slightly pulled on Dan's ear at one point, earning a slight rumble and a mumbled “ass”, that made them both smile.

Phil turned to Dan, eyes connecting again before he pressed his lips to his, lingering on them for a moment, working with each other habitual but not less caring. Dan was the one who moved closer and turned them, mouth’s disconnecting as he then looked with half-lidded eyes at Phil.

Phil hid a smirk and pulled him closer to leave a firm kiss on his lips, “Let’s get some dinner and watch a film, alright?” Dan nodded but connected their lips again before he reached for his phone. “Indian?” Phil hummed and looked at his profile as he realised something “I need to go to the door, dont I?“ He muttered. Dan giggled and raised an eyebrow at him nodding as he continued to go through the menu. Phil groaned and flopped back onto the pillows and blankets, glooming up at a smugly grinning Dan.

---

The food was good, one might say tasty. Dan managed to scoot closer, curling up in Phil's lap as they watch Harry Potter and The Order of the Phoenix. Phil continued to play with his ears, rubbing over the spot behind them as his own eyes dropped slowly, the purring sounds that Dan made and the vibration it caused both lulling him over into a calm state. Everything was warm and cosy, he felt full from too much Indian takeout and at peace from their closeness as his mind drifted off, wandering over into the land of bizarre dreams.

Phil didn't know how long he was in there, weird pictures flashing by, making hardly sense but everything was too interesting to look away.

He felt something nudge against his mind.

He tried to push it away because he felt too comfortable, too content with how this day went and he just wanted to sleep 10 more minutes.

The nudging went away just to come back harder, making him jump a little as he was pushed out of his dream-like state.

His eyes flew open and he looked into Dan's face, his big brown eyes just a few centimetres away as he blinked a bit shocked and confused. Dan grinned at him though, and Phil smiled back without thinking about it, still slightly perplex as he rubbed his eyes.

“I thought I should wake you up after you slept through the whole film” Dan mumbled and scooting even closer, moving into Phil’s lap. The room was dark besides a scented candle on the table and the TV, volume turned off. Phil hummed as Dan nuzzled his nose arms wrapped around him.

Phil moved his hands over his legs, slowly caressing him through the thin fabric of his pants. He turned a bit and they looked at each other as Phil pulled Dan even closer, holding him onto his hips, a deep purring echoing through the room. “Want to head to bed-?” Phil asked with a yawn ripping through him.

Dan just grinned at him, nodding the next second. “I should probably change back though-” he added, catching Phil's attention. “Do you need to yet or do you want to?” his voice was a mixture of concern and honesty, a silent question lingering between them. Dan’s gaze wandered over Phils face before he locked eyes with him, a soft smile on his face “No, neither.” Phil smiled tentative, “alright” turning off the tv as Dan blew out the candle, leaving them in the dark.

Dan guided them back to their bedroom, though. His eyes able to see.

The End.

[takaraphoenix]

So I know you already ranted about Buffy for me but I wanted to ask about one of my other favorites, if not my favorite show Leverage.

*melts into a puddle of happy goo*

I looove Leverage. Oh my gosh, I love this show so much.

I discovered it back when I was on this “Mh, these Ocean’s movies are really great. I love a good heist. Maybe I actually really do, considering my weakness for Kaitou KID. There must be a genre for this”.

What can I say? THERE ISN’T. I have no idea how heist and con shows are not a bigger genre. You get dozens of vampire shows, of demon hunter shows, hundreds and hundreds of police shows, spies get their own genre, superheroes too… I really don’t understand why there aren’t at least a dozen con shows. It’s such a great genre.

And Leverage is fucking amazing.

It’s such a ragtag team of misfits and the way they come together as a team and a family, I love it so much. Team dynamics, and “team as family” dynamics in particular, are my absolute weak-spot. Like, the ultimate weak-spot.

Nate is such a broken character, but in his own way still so strong and the way you see him struggle and grow and come to accept not just his team but also himself is such a great journey. Because often in TV it’s “the alcoholic stops drinking and then the alcoholic never drinks again. Unless in like five seasons we run out of plot and need a brief relaps that will instantly be resolved again too”. No, it’s not that easy. Alcoholism is not that easy. And while he is so not a poster-boy for how to handle it, I love the level of realism they put into his story. I love how complex he is. He’s a good guy, but he’s flawed and he’s not as white as he might like to believe himself to be. My favorite Nate episode has to be “The 12-Step Job” for its complexities, though of course anything involving his son’s death is… always very heavy and important too, but this one has just an edge of lightness too (not to mention, I really love how that episode is more than just a one-note thing and that Jack Hurley actually gets to return later on).

Sophie is such a quirky character. Sure, she and Nate are the “mom and dad” of the team, but definitely not in the classic definition of those terms and they never really stand above the rest of the team. She always has an open ear and kind words for her team. And her relationship with Nate is just so… complex. Definite favorite Sophie episode has to be “The San Lorenzo Job”, I don’t know, I just hold a particular fondness for the way she played the First Lady and gave that politician a spine.

I love Hardison because he��s such a nerd. And sure, he’s a bit of a stereotype in the whole “He’s good with computers, so he is a geek and he’s a scaredy-cat”, but it’s just so endearing and is only highlighted by his relationship with Eliot. Those two bickering is the highlight of every episode, really. My favorite Hardison episode is absolutely “The Gold Job”, I just love how he tries to work his own angle there and it’s just such a mess but also so much fun.

I love Christian Kane, he was a great villain in Angel and I am so excited that these days I get to see him in The Librarians. But his Eliot is definitely my favorite. I love Eliot so much. He has this ridiculous past and so much pain and strength and he kicks ass better than anyone else but he still has a soft heart when it comes to his team. He could have easily been that empty-headed Muscles Character of the show, but he isn’t and I love that. Legit my favorite episode of the show is a tie between “The Wedding Job” because seeing Eliot cook and be so distracted by his cover life is just so great and “The Studio Job” because hearing Eliot sind is just so great too. But I also loved when Eliot was a professional baseball player in “The Three Strikes Job”, so let’s just say I love Eliot in general and that makes every Eliot episode particularly amazing for me? Because they show that he’s more than just the muscle of the show.

Parker is my close second when it comes to favorites here, because I just love thieves so damn much. And she’s just so mysterious and child-like and broken and dysfunctional as a human being and sweet. It’s hard to decide on a Parker episode, though I definitely love “The Juror #6 Job” for the fact that Parker is forced into learning how to be a Proper Human Person and it’s endearing and I love the whoe Alice White running gag that entailed, but I also hold a special place for “The Inside Job” for giving us Parker backstory and meeting her mentor and just tiny!Parker is so adorable and then there is of course also just how special “The Broken Wing Job” is because it’s such a unique take in that it leaves Parker to handle it all on her own without her team and with limited physical abilities, which really gave her the opportunity to shine.

Overall, I gotta admit I generally love every episode featuring the FBI agents because I love when a show isn’t just “Job Of The Week” but has continuity and while just a small detail and not big roles, seeing them again connects the overall story even more for me - and it’s so much fun.

I mean. I could literally go into a fangirl rant about basically every single episode of this show, because this show is so brilliantly written. All they cons are so unique and not just cons but also personal. You learn a bit more about the team with every single con they pull and you always get emotionally involved with the people they help. Always.

You get to watch this team come together as a family and the show has this perfect balance between humor, dark-tones, emotions and seriousness. It’s funny, but it’s also always respectful whenever one of their jobs does go into territory that gets emotional or personal.

Not to mention, the show has the perfect ending. So often, shows are just canned and never even get any ending at all or the ending is announced on such a short notice that it’s kind of a mess. But the ending was set up perfectly, it was written in a way that still makes me cry every time I watched it (and I’ve watched this show about half a dozen times by now) even though it’s a perfect happy ending for everyone.

Now, I can’t end this without mentioning Mark Sheppard here. That fandom-hopping brilliant actor plays such a good gray character in this show. Yes, he’s definitely the antagonist to our team, but I find it hard to call him a flat-out villain considering our guys are also in their very own shade of gray with their job and sadly enough definitely on the wrong side of law. Mark plays Sterling in such a great way that makes you hate the guy at the same time as you admire him.

I really love Leverage and it’s actually, straight after Buffy, one of my go-to rewatch shows when all my currently ongoing shows are on a break and I don’t have anything to watch, because it’s brilliantly written, well-rounded, has lovable characters, exciting and fun stories and it’s a very unique show overall.

And I think the uniqueness and the brilliance in writing really shows by the fact that I actually do have favorite episodes related to each character, that I can actually distinguish the plots enough to say “No, that episode with this sub-plot about that character was just brilliant”. And I really can’t do that for everything I watch.

So yeah, this is a very hard recommendation. If you’re looking for a fun-time that still gets you emotionally attached and you haven’t seen Leverage, put it on your list.