#its a holiday i am paying it should not be TORTURE

[patrice-bergerons]

Augh I'm already feeling iffy about this vacation I'm on — in part because one of the two uni friends I'm vacationing with tacked her bland and mildly annoying Swiss boyfriend onto the trip WITHOUT ASKING and the vibes among 3 Turkish people who have known each other for a decade plus vs that and a Swiss rando are totally different. Except now my two actual friends' flight has been pushed to tomorrow and I will just have to hang out with the Swiss rando all by myself for almost a full day. Kill me right now.

[queenshelby]

The Concubine - Part Eight

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warning: Graphic Torture, Blood, Angst, Violence, Loss of Pregnancy, Smut

Words: 2,656

One week has passed since you miscarried and your life had changed quite significantly. You were sharing it with Tommy now and he was very different to Steven. To your surprise, he was gentle and caring and this wasn’t something you were expecting from a man in his position and with his standing.

You knew what he did and what he was involved in. The murders, the killing, the drug trafficking. You weren’t blind and business was always on his mind. In fact, his mind never rested. He couldn’t rest. There was too much to do and he still craved revenge.

Whilst you had never spoken about it again, the beatings and causing you to miscarry, you knew that he wanted to see Steven suffer for what he did to you. But, Steven was nowhere to be found until that very cold Sunday evening where everything changed with a phone call from Arthur.

‘Fucking got em Tom’ Arthur said through the phone and Tommy was quick to put on his jacket and coat, making his way through the door and to his silver Bentley.  

‘Where are you going Tommy?’ you asked surprised as you followed him through the door. He seemed to be in a mad rush.

‘I’ve got work to do Love. Don’t wait up, eh’ Tommy said, turning around briefly to give you a kiss.

‘Tommy, you promised’ you pouted, knowing that tonight was the night your abstinence and hunger for him was to come to end.

‘I will make it up to you, eh?’ Tommy said with a grin before you pulled him in for another kiss.

‘You will?’ you asked, biting your lip seductively. Whilst you were still bruised and hurt, you were desperate for him to take you. You loved being intimate with him.

‘Yes, I will, and you won’t be able to walk straight for fucking days, eh’ Tommy winked before getting into his car, causing you to laugh.

***

When Tommy arrived at the factory building where Arthur and Michael held Steven captive, the anger within him was building and so was his rage.

He knew what Steven had done to you and he knew what he had done to other women, including several working girls at establishments owned by the Shelby family while using an alias.

‘At last, we meet, eh’ Tommy said harshly as he sat down on a chair across from Steven who was bound to a pole with a with rope. A white piece of fabric was tied around his mouth to keep him quiet while he was sweating profusely.

‘It was fucking hard to find you. But now that you are here, your father can go free, get on with business or, more so, start over again because you fucked up, eh’ Tommy said as he removed the white fabric from Steven’s mouth.

‘I haven’t done anything to you. What the hell do you want from me?’ Steven asked, shivering and crying as he did. He was fearful and believed that Tommy was there to kill him.

‘I don’t want anything from scum like you. All I want is for you to pay for your fucking sins, eh’ Tommy growled, pulling Steven up on his shirt as he did.

‘If this is about this whore your brother saved, she fucking deserved it’ Steven then said, unable to hold back his emotion and, just as he did, Tommy pulled off his razor cap and slowly dragged it across Steven’s face, causing him to bleed profusely.

‘Listen to me you little fuck. I have made a deal with your father not to kill you but if you disrespect Y/N again, I will end you in the most painful way possible’ Tommy then said louder as Steven’s screams.

‘She cheated on me and I should have beaten her to death’ Steven growled in anger and pain.

‘He didn’t fucking listen to a word I said’ Tommy observed with a chuckle. ‘Did he fucking listen Arthur?’ he then asked, looking at Arthur.

‘No Tommy. He didn’t listen’ Arthur confirmed.

‘Pull him up, put him onto the table and start with what he did to his fiancée and the whores he visited at our establishments’ Tommy growled, handing one of his men a belt and they were quick to comply with Tommy’s request while Tommy watched.

‘She did fucking cheat on you, didn’t she, eh’ Tommy then said as the tenth stroke hit Steven’s back.

‘Because why would she be with someone like you...’ he went on to say as the twelfth stroke came down, causing Steven to cry in pain.

‘He is enjoying this too fucking much. Hit him harder’ Tommy then instructed before he continued on.

‘Now, I tell you a little secret Steven. The man she cheated on you with was me. Unlike you, I didn’t force her to do anything, treated her with respect and, if it wasn’t for you fucking animal, she would still be carrying my child. You killed my child and you can be grateful that I didn’t know that she was pregnant before she lost the baby, eh. Because if I would have known, you most certainly would die tonight’ Tommy then said, pulling on Steven’s cheek with anger as the 20th stroke hit him.

‘How does it fucking feel, eh? Being treated and abused like this’ Tommy growled when the final stroke came down on Steven’s back and he told his men that this was enough.

‘I am sorry please…please just stop’ Steven pleaded as tears were running down his face.

‘So that you can go back and rape more prostitutes, beat more women or take your anger out on anyone else who is not equal in size to you?’ Tommy asked.

‘I promise, I won’t hurt anyone…please just let me go’ Steven pleaded.

‘No, you won’t. I will make sure of that’ Tommy then said, pulling his face close as the blood from Steven’s cheek-stained Tommy’s clothes.

Then Tommy pulled Steven of the table and, whilst the blood from Steven’s back now also covered Tommy, he forced him to turn around and sit on the chair in the corner.

‘If you come near Y/N, or her family or any of my establishments, I will have you killed and I will also have your father and brothers killed. Do you understand?’ Tommy asked, causing Steven to nod.

‘Good’ he growled before turning around, facing his men.

‘Finish it’ he then ordered before lightening himself a cigarette and handing one of his men a hot piece of metal.

‘This will hurt’ Arthur then said as he followed Tommy to his car and, just as they left the building, they could hear the screams in the distance as Tommy’s men were branding Steven’s skin with the word ‘Rapist’ as a warning for any women who would cross his path.

‘See that the women in our establishments receive compensation for what he has done to them. Also, I am taking a break for two weeks. I trust you can handle matters without me, eh’ Tommy then said to Arthur, causing Arthur to nod.

‘A break? Arthur asked surprised.

‘I promised Y/N a holiday when this is over. And now it’s over’ Tommy then said.

***

It was at around midnight when you heard Tommy’s car pull up in front of the house and, whilst he told you not to stay up, you did and waited for him in the small reading room leading to his office.

‘You waited up, eh’ Tommy said somewhat surprised when he saw you wearing nothing but black and very seductive lingerie as he hung up his jacket and gun holster.

‘Tommy, are you alright? Your clothes are covered in blood’ you said with worry as you quickly walked over towards him.

‘Yes Love, it’s not my blood’ Tommy said, reassuring you before kissing you gently.

‘Then who’s blood is it?’ you asked almost unbothered by it.

‘Steven’s’ Tommy said carefully, leaving you speechless.

‘I wanted to kill him. But I didn’t. Yet, he got what deserved and he won’t be hurting anyone else’ Tommy then said, sighing as he did and, just like that, you crashed your lips onto his in haste.

There was something wrong but yet sexy about all of this, Tommy covered in blood, the man you loved seeking revenge on the man you hated with all your heart.

‘I need you to fuck me, right here and right now’ you said. Your crimson lips curled, taking on a sinful countenance as your ever hungry tongue slithered forth before whispering ‘I need you Tommy’.

‘My clothes are stained with blood Y/N, I should…’ Tommy said, holding back and, before he could finish his sentence, you responded.

‘I don’t care’ you said with urge and Tommy was quick to return your kiss.

You felt small as he towered over you but you drew up to your full height and boldly ran your hands over his chest.

You then stepped back just far enough to let your nimble fingers glide over Tommy’s tie and shirt, unbuttoning his vest and releasing the loose knot of his tie.

‘Fuck’ he simply growled and you watched his eyes crawl from your encased feet, up your stocking legs, to the clasp of the garter...following the garter straps up and noticing what the frame job was doing to your immaculately bare pussy.

You couldn't help but shiver as Tommy took in the sight of your mound. You could tell just how excited he was by your swollen glistening pussy lips and clit peeking out from under its protective hood. Tommy’s eyes only pulled away reluctantly, to continue the sight-seeing journey they started until your eyes met.

What you saw there made your heart skip a beat. Gone was the selfless man that saved you as he once again transformed into a predator ... and you were his prey.

The smile that your face sported grew with a devilish delight. Finally, the week of abstinence was coming to an end and you would get to experience the beast within Tommy again.

You had no time to react as Tommy stepped close, pushing you back against the wall with a resounding grunt, his hands moving to the lace barely covering your breasts and tugged the flimsy material down.

‘Tell me if I am hurting you, alright? Your back is still bruised’ Tommy said caringly and you nodded before pulling him closer again.

‘I need you to fuck me, Tommy. No holding back, please’ you demanded, causing Tommy to chuckle.

Your breasts were fully exposed now with the prickly lace under the tender flesh, your nipples extended and aching. Tommy used this moment to exert his prowess, as strong fingers captured the taut buds, pinching, rolling and tugging them until he heard a familiar moan.

His lips quickly and fiercely covered yours in a consuming kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, finding yours and battling with it. You knew the demanding kiss was intended to keep you as quiet as possible with the maids around but you couldn't help but return it with equal urgency and demand.

You felt one of Tommy’s hands release your aching nipple and slither down to your fiery pussy. His fingers rough as they worked between the slick folds and against your erect clit. You cried out, his mouth the only thing keeping the sound to a minimum, as your hips bucked against his questing fingers. You ached for those same fingers to worm their way into your seeping hole and give you the slightest moment of relief, but no ... that was not his plan at all.

Your own hands were not still, as the nails of your left hand raked harshly against his shoulder, while your right hand found the buttons of his pants and tore at them. You needed this just as much as he did and were rewarded with little "pops" as the buttons released. You fished your hand behind Tommy’s briefs seeking what you had hoped was his throbbing cock and were again rewarded as your fingers wrapped around his steely member and began to stroke.

Tommy groaned and broke the kiss, panting heavily, nostrils flaring and you saw the darkness in his eyes deepening. His fingers still danced between your thighs and your own hand continued to stroke his hot cock all the while you dared to whisper, ‘I need you inside me Tommy, please’

With each word spilling from your lips, you squeezed his cock in exclamation. There was no doubting your words or purpose.

Tommy needed no other prompting as he pulled his hands from your needy body and worked his pants and boxers down just past his ass, his beautiful cock sprang into full view now, swollen,

Some pre-cum was glistening at the deep red tip and though you longed to tongue bathe that precious organ, Tommy again decided the outcome of this particular adventure.

His hands cupped your ass, lifting you and you wrapped your legs around his waist, your back hard against the wall, your left-hand clutching at him while your right was positioning his cock at your seeping hole. Tommy’s eyes never left yours as he thrusted forward, burying his cock easily into your lava-like cavern.

‘Oh god yes, fuck Tommy’ you moaned before you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth and bit down, wanting so badly to cry out in pure pleasure as Tommy quite literally took you. Each thrust was more powerful than the last and you knew that you would most definitely be sore in the morning.

Tommy’s fingers curled painfully into the flesh of your ass, holding you tightly as he roughly drove his member into your spasming pussy. It didn't surprise you when you felt the index fingers of his hands work their way to your wicked hole and pry before pushing them inside the sinful star.

‘Oh god, fuck’ you moaned as you bit down harder on your lip, tasting blood but managing to squelch the whorish moan that threatened to burst forth.

Tommy worked his fingers in deeper and though you tried, you couldn't gain enough purchase to meet his pounding thrusts. Tommy pulled back just far enough that his swollen tip rubbed the hidden bundle of nerves within you and sent you flying over the edge.

He saw how your eyes widened, how your own nostrils flared and knew you were about to cum. His mouth covered yours possessively again, drinking in the scream of utter bliss and complete orgasmic delight. Your pussy rippled down Tommy’s length, pulling his own release from him.

Your hand left his shoulder and found Tommy’s head, pulling his mouth tightly to yours. It was your turn to devour his guttural growl and devour you did. You drank his pleasure down as his cock spit his precious seed deep into your mound, painting you.

It all happened so fast with an urgency born of intense need. As Tommy’s cock slipped free, he looked into your eyes.

‘Fuck’ Tommy huffed, letting go of you slowly before kissing you again passionately.

‘I missed this Tommy’ you said just before Tommy pulled up his pants and lifted you up.

‘Where are we going?’ you asked as Tommy carried you upstairs.

‘The bathtub for round two, then the bed for round three and I haven’t decided where we will take round four yet, maybe my office…’ Tommy smirked and your eyes widened in disbelieve.

‘I told you, you won’t be walking straight for days, eh’ he then grinned, causing you to giggle.

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[quidfree]

prompts,.,, fem tdbk and a date gone very wrong ? ❤️

ohhhh my god anon. pump this shit directly into my veins i love this whole premise let’s go. also all inspired by whatever the fuck horikoshi was doing in this 

just so everyone is on the same page here, it is not a fucking date.

it’s lunch. a singular lunch. people do that shit all the time. even katsuki does lunch, sometimes. she went to that semi-shitty diner place with kirishima that one time when the food hall was shut because some dumbass first year exploded into goo or whatever. and todoroki does lunch, too- her and deku were on some shitty lunch date like a week ago, as evidenced by deku’s even shittier selfie of them having a grand old time doing whatever the fuck they do alone.

fuck, not a shitty lunch date. a shitty lunch. whatever.

the point is lunch is a normal non-date thing people do, and the fact katsuki and todoroki are maybe not the usual suspects for it is just circumstantial. it’s not like they planned it ahead of time, or made some big thing about it. they literally arranged for it in public, so obviously todoroki didn’t think there was anything weird about it. and there isn’t! they’re both going to be in tokyo on the same day, and todoroki’s always happy for any excuse to spend less time with her old man, and katsuki sure as fuck wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to avoid her hag of a birth-giver for a few blissful hours, so when todoroki had very nonchalantly gone ‘oh, bakugou, we could do lunch then”, it wasn’t like she had any real reason to tell her to go fuck herself. like, yeah, maybe a year ago, on principle, she would have, but even katsuki can only take so much trauma-bonding before she resigns herself to the reality that she’s stuck with half ‘n half for life, one way or another, and she may as well suck it up and approach civility because said moron is determined to ignore her open malice until she plays along anyways. they’re... you know, whatever. friends. or something. jesus.

the point being that it’s not a date, and the fact that she’s getting increasingly annoyed at her limited wardrobe is just because she would have packed more shit if the crone hadn’t insisted that they ‘pack light’ so they could get cheaper train tickets for less luggage. it’s just annoying that she can’t wear anything that’s not screaming holiday.

it occurs to her as she sits and scowls at her suitcase that her mother has been watching her from the doorframe for some undetermined amount of time, which is criminal mainly because she’s a goddamn hero-to-be and getting snuck up on by anyone is a blight upon her good name. she tries to disguise the ego damage dealt by glowering murderously in her progenitor’s direction.

“what the fuck do you want?”

“you know,” the she-devil says, cocking a hip, “if you want to borrow something nicer...”

“i wouldn’t be caught dead in your shitty clothes!” katsuki snarls, which prompts the witch to immediately scowl back.

“watch your damn mouth!”

“watch your waistline! no way in hell are we the same size!”

“why you little-”

the interruption at least reminds her that she is obsessing over her clothes ahead of meeting todoroki for lunch, which is so humiliating it kickstarts her brain again long enough to grab some normal shit and get the hell out of there.

on the walk she checks her phone again. the previous day she’d had to bite the bullet and make the first move, todoroki’s infamously terrible communication skills making themselves known once more, and their ensuing conversation had been so mortifying she’d nearly cancelled all-together.

to: Half ‘n half

Yo asshole are we still meeting tomorrow or what

I’m busy as shit

from: Half ‘n half

Yes. TS

to: Half ‘n half

What the fuck is TS

from: Half ‘n half

I was signing off.

to: Half ‘n half

SIGNING OFF ON YOUR OWN TEXT

YOU THINK I DONT KNOW YOUR DAMN NAME

from: Half ‘n half

[Pin attached]

Does here at 12.30 work for you?

to: Half ‘n half

Yeah whatever

Don’t be late

And don’t think I’m forgetting the fucking signing off thing

from: Half ‘n half

Glad you can make time for mockery in your busy as shit schedule.

the venue looks like some rich person shit, which she semi-expected, but it means a lot of people give her weird looks as she makes her way inside, probably on account of the shorts and t-shirt she’s wearing if not her general vibe. some old woman actually drags her purse to her, which makes katsuki sorely tempted to bare her teeth and maybe hiss for effect, though she settles for scowling and shoving her hands in her pockets. it’s 12.27, because she wasn’t going to be late but being any earlier would have given off some dubious impression that she’s eager to see todoroki, except now she kind of wishes she’d just come for 12.30 because if there’s some reservation bullshit she gets the feeling she’s going to start fighting with the waiting staff, and then-

“bakugou,” todoroki calls, from inside, raising a hand with unnecessary formality. “you made it.”

“course i made it,” katsuki grunts, absolutely not relieved as she by-passes the suspicious looking waiter to join her outside. “think i can’t ride the damn underground by myself?”

todoroki is wearing jeans cuffed at the ankles and a white t-shirt on top of which she’s thrown on an open button-up with the sleeves rolled up, and she looks casual and normal and incidentally kind of like they dressed to match, but the important part is that she doesn’t look dressed up at all, so katsuki was totally right about the non-date situation, and also isn’t the only one totally underdressed for the shitty venue.

“you look nice,” todoroki says then, completely shattering katsuki’s brief moment of reprieve. “i’ve never seen so much color on you.”

katsuki almost chokes on her own tongue, but the worst part is that the asshole seems completely nonchalant about the weird as shit observation, focused on her stool as she takes a seat on the balcony. which- what the actual fuck? since when does todoroki issue compliments unprompted- of the non-professional variety, at that? and what the fuck does she expect katsuki to say now- return the compliment? say thanks? is this whole thing some kind of exercise in psychological torture?

well, fuck it. she can’t look like a little bitch just because todoroki said something inanely positive. two can play that game.

“yeah. you look half decent yourself. did you hire someone to dress you for the occasion?”

todoroki blinks up at her in surprise, which is totally a win and would make her more smug if she could stop feeling so weird and prickly all over. for a dangerous moment todoroki seems on the verge of blushing, but miraculously the world rights itself and the usual deadpan persists, one brow quirking up in completely feigned ineptitude.

“there was a compliment somewhere in there, so thank you, i think. i thought we were past this vendetta.”

“we’ll be past this vendetta the day you burn your piece of shit hero suit,” katsuki retorts, back on familiar ground, and relaxes long enough to squint down at the menu.

this turns out to be a mistake.

“the fuck? is this whole thing in french?”

“oh,” todoroki says, after a beat. “that makes sense. i thought my english had deteriorated.”

“are you- you didn’t know? you recommended the place!”

“it was the nearest place to our hotel,” todoroki defends, now having the decency of looking slightly put out. “coq can’t mean what i think it means, can it?”

“that’s chicken, asshole,” katsuki hisses, flinging the menu down. “great, now we’re going to have to flag down one of the shithead waiters and ask for a japanese menu. excuse me! hey! yeah, i’m talking to- what the hell, did he just blow me off? hey, jackass! you with the shitty mustache!”

“sorry about that,” todoroki interjects, when mustache asshole turns an offended stare their way. “do you have the japanese menu?”

“we only serve the food in its authentic form,” mustachioed asshole says, with frigid self-satisfaction. “might i suggest google translate?”

“might i suggest my foot up your ass, you shitty-”

“that’s fine,” todoroki says, in a flat tone that implies otherwise. “we’ll make do.”

the waiter sniffs pretentiously as katsuki thinks about all the ways she could beat his ass into next tuesday, running an aggravated hand through her hair when the wind rustles it into her face. she’d half expect todoroki to suggest they fuck off elsewhere, but when she looks back her way she finds an ill-boding gleam of determination in her eyes despite the impassive set to her face, and it’s a testament to how fucked in the head ua has made katsuki that she feels a sort of sick thrill of recognition at the sight. todoroki’s in stubborn bitch mode.

“i’ll have this,” todoroki says, sure enough, pointing to the most expensive item on the menu. “and also this. and one of those.”

the waiter’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull, and todoroki looks unfazed in katsuki’s direction, tapping pointedly at a sleek black and red credit card in her wallet. “bakugou?”

well, if endeavour’s paying....

“sure,” katsuki says, slowly, and then turns her meanest smile the waiter’s way. “i want the frog legs.”

mustache clears his throat, attempts condescension. “we don’t serve that here.”

“you’re a gastronomique restaurant,” katsuki says very loudly, as other clients turn to stare, “and you don’t have fucking frog legs? is this a joke? does this napkin say authentic french cuisine or am i hallucinating?”

“i can ask the chef,” the waiter demurs, casting a nervous glance at the muttering snobs nearby, and attempts an ingratiating smile. “anything else for you, mademoiselle?”

“what did you just call me?”

once the ordering debacle is over, todoroki slants katsuki what may well be an apologetic glance, vaguely contrite frown sitting pretty atop her usual dead-eyed stare.

“i probably should have read up on the place ahead of time.”

katsuki is well within her rights to chew her head off, she thinks, but food’s on the way and she got to yell at the asshole who gave her the once-over when she came in, so she’s feeling forgiving, even in the face of todoroki’s annoyingly doll-faced apology. the bitch really has to do the bare minimum and she looks like a fucking kpop idol.

“yeah, whatever. i always knew you were a shitty ops planner.”

todoroki, who is an asshole, looks relieved at her generous forgiveness for all of a second before she quirks a brow. “between the two of us, i only count one person who has actually spoken the words ‘shoot first, ask questions later’.”

“that was in a training simulation,” katsuki protests, outraged. “and you know damn well the actors were annoying as shit!”

“i did find them slightly too committed to the role,” todoroki concedes neutrally, which totally means she agrees with katsuki 100% and is being precious about it. katsuki scoffs.

“least the view’s decent.”

“the-“ todoroki starts, in weirdly confused tones, until she follows katsuki’s gaze outward and nods in understanding. “oh, the skyline. yes.”

what else katsuki could have meant she doesn’t fucking know: they’re sitting pretty in the middle of tokyo. the only thing the hellhole of a restaurant has going for it at this point is the cityscape.

todoroki stares out into the distance for a good long moment, and with the breeze her negligently loose hair whips this way and that, red and white blur where the two halves mingle. instinctively katsuki itches to braid it flat so it doesn’t tangle. if todoroki asked her she’d tell her to just cut her damn hair into a bob or something- it’s not like icyhot has any attachment to her princess hair, and she’s got the obnoxious bone structure to pull off any length. not that she’d mention this last part. or that she’s given it much thought. it’s just fucking obvious.

if todoroki could keep her mouth shut throughout the rest of the meal, it could be sort of nice. tokyo skyline, and companionable silence, and presumably edible food. worse ways to kill some time, and way less incriminating than anything that may be said otherwise.

“i think this is the part where we make small talk,” todoroki says instead, sadist that she definitely is, as katsuki grimaces feelingly her way.

“no, we don’t.”

“well, we don’t. but this is the part where we should.”

“i don’t even believe you can last a minute of small talk, icyhot.”

todoroki looks pensive, mismatched eyes thoughtful. “...how has your day been?”

“uneventful,” katsuki says, combative, and eyes her watch. todoroki does not give.

“this place seems nice.”

“you don’t even think that.”

“how have you been finding tokyo?”

“noisy.”

“the weather seems-”

“no.”

“you look nice.”

“you said that already, dumbass,” katsuki grunts, palms crackling with sweat, and does not at all read into the way todoroki makes a stupid little movement with her mouth that could ungenerously be interpreted as a pout.

“well, i meant it, so i’m saying it twice.”

“give it up, half ‘n half, just ask me about training.”

“...how is your training?”

“i did this thing yesterday,” katsuki starts, leaning back in her chair, and from then launches into a very technical and barely exaggerated retelling of the batshit insane stunt she pulled off with her quirk the day prior. todoroki’s focused attention is gratifying, in a totally platonic non-weird way- it’s just that her parents couldn’t very well follow why exactly said stunt was as insane as it is, but todoroki obviously can, and also there’s that thing with todoroki where pulling a reaction out of her ice queen act is admittedly more satisfying than most people. it has jack shit to do with the fact katsuki’s got a very minor complex about todoroki paying her her dues, and even if it did then that’s entirely fucking reasonable considering she still hasn’t forgiven her for the sports fest incident. 

it is a little weird having todoroki’s sole focus on her outside of hero shit, though. it’s not like they really hang out one on one outside of school or work. it’s kind of- unnerving. yeah. unnerving, to be making prolonged eye contact, todoroki’s expression intent but not intense the way she gets in fight scenarios, frowning lightly because she has resting bitch face but apparently genuinely interested. it’s kind of a relief that todoroki asks questions- moves them safely into a conversation, so katsuki’s not just sitting there talking and sort of dry-throated. fucking waiter, leaving them water-less.

it’s fine. they talk about training, and quirks, and then todoroki pushes her hair behind her ears and leans forward to demonstrate on a small scale this thing she’s trying to do where she melts her ice and refreezes it in rapid succession so it causes what is essentially ice rain, but there’s logistics and shit that need to be worked out for it to work the way she’s thinking it might, and katsuki knows her thermal shit so they start scrawling maths over the napkins, and then bicker over the finer points of first year chemistry, so when the food actually arrives to interrupt them todoroki’s startled blink is weirdly relatable, like she also forgot where they were.

the waiter’s there and gone before they’re really recovered from the brief misplacement, which katsuki registers only when she looks down at her empty glass.

“goddamnit- how hard is it to bring us water?”

“they only offer sparkling,” todoroki says, gravely, then outpaces katsuki’s disgust by placing her hand over her glass, ice rising before she switches hands and melts it down. “tell me if the temperature’s off.”

intensely mollified and trying not to look it, katsuki sips it. “’s fine.”

“okay,” todoroki says, faintly pleased, and tilts her head to look down at her food. “i have no idea what any of this is.”

“moron,” katsuki snorts, except it comes out way fonder than it has any rights to, and from beneath the convenient curtain of hair todoroki’s smiling a little, so she hastily stabs a frog leg and gets to eating before anyone gets any ideas.

the actual meal goes okay-ish. most of the stuff todoroki ordered is extremely pretentious french cuisine, and todoroki secretly has the culinary adventurousness of a five year old, so it befalls katsuki to impatiently attempt every dish and pronounce it edible before todoroki will deign to brave it. she’s still trying to bully an unyielding todoroki into attempting the weird bird soup thing when there’s commotion nearby. it takes the both of them approximately three seconds to spring into work-mode; katsuki’s on her feet poised for a fight before she’s even consciously thought about it, scanning her peripherals, and she doesn’t even need to look to feel todoroki unconsciously covering her back, cool sting of air signalling her quirk at the ready. 

the commotion turns out just to be some old dumbass choking, relaxing them both out of their stances as she falls back to let todoroki ahead. they’re both uber-qualified for first aid shit, but she’s self-aware enough to know even todoroki’s bland reassurances are usually preferred to her bedside manner. unfortunately, the whole entourage seems to be braindead, because they’re all crowding the old guy in a panic while he chokes, his wife in shrieking hysterics.

“oh, my god, he’s choking! he’s choking! sugar-plum, stay with me!”

“fuck me,” katsuki mutters, unethically thinking that she would personally prefer choking to being married to someone who calls her sugar-plum, but todoroki’s pushing ahead with implacable calm, so she trudges after her anyways.

“excuse me. excuse me. i need access to your husband.”

“who are you? don’t touch him! help! get this woman off my husband!” wailing hysteric yells, bosom heaving dramatically. katsuki is starting to suspect she poisoned him on purpose or some shit, because no way does anyone talk like that in real life.

“she’s a fucking qualified first aid provider, lady, shut up and let her through!”

thankfully, the woman seems on the verge of an outrage aneurysm, which drags her focus away from suffocating her choking husband to dramatically pointing at katsuki long enough for todoroki to duck past her and reach the guy as he turns purple.

“how dare you speak to me that way? who do you think you are?”

“ma,” chinless moron number one says, clearing his throat. “i think that’s one of those future pros from TV.”

“what?”

“you know, ma,” chinless moron number two adds, glancing nervously between them. “the one that explodes things. you know. from UA.”

katsuki takes great pleasure in watching recognition dawn in the old cow’s beady eyes, but in any event there’s a hacking noise and then the old man’s coughing out a bone into his plate as todoroki steps noiselessly back from the table.

“he’s fine now. enjoy your dinner.”

“god, that was gross,” katsuki says, as they ignore the woman’s sputtering and return to their seats. todoroki tilts her head. 

“not really. if he’d thrown up it would have been.”

“not the choking guy,” katsuki scoffs, casting a glance back his way. “his wife. talk about theatrics.”

“she seemed more afraid of us than her husband dying.”

“for good reason,” katsuki mutters darkly, spreading out in her chair. “i hate civilians.”

“i don’t think she recognised us,” todoroki counters, pensive, and absent-mindedly takes a bite of the weird soup before she screws her face up like a betrayed kid. “oh. you didn’t say it was sweet.”

the look on her face thoroughly distracts katsuki from asking what other reason the pearl-clutcher could possibly have to be so terrified at the mere sight of them; instead, she chokes back a laugh, stifling a grin. “what are you, five?”

“i don’t think i like this,” todoroki says, mournful, which makes katsuki grin harder. she can’t help it- todoroki looking stupid is her kryptonite. 

“then don’t pick a restaurant where you can’t read the menu, next time.”

todoroki’s midway to looking up, but for some reason her expression transforms instantaneously, which makes katsuki reflexively try to quash her amusement. todoroki always gets weird when she’s smiling. 

“next time?”

motherfuck. obviously she didn’t mean next time like next time, she meant next time like- hypothetically, in the future, when todoroki’s on a lunch date with someone else. a lunch non-date. she’s just about stopped sputtering furiously long enough to try and express this sentiment when it occurs to her that todoroki seems- pleased, one eye soft sky-blue when katsuki accidentally meets it, and that draws her up short long enough that she ends up just muttering lamely to herself. fucking todoroki. 

on the heels of this utter embarrassment, she downs the rest of her water, scowls in a neat 180 at everything in sight, and wonders for the first time in her life how the fuck extras get through dates. not that this is one.

it’s fine. they’re done eating, and no one’s died, and katsuki is no longer fifteen and thus mostly trusts her ego to lick its wounds and recover from the ordeal. even if they stick around for desert that’s only another half hour of this to endure. as long as todoroki doesn’t make any sudden moves they’ll be fine.

...the problem is, of course, that sudden moves are todoroki’s modus operandi. katsuki has not forgotten the bitch calling them friends on national television in the same breath that she was vociferously denying them being anything of the sort. in todoroki’s fucked up brain, they’re always ten steps ahead of whatever they actually are- considering katsuki’s come around to privately acknowledging she’d take a couple more stakes through the gut for the asshole, in todoroki’s world they're practically hitched.

platonically. platonically practically hitched. this is not a thing, goddamnit. no matter the weird looks aizawa’s been giving them, or utsushimi’s nefarious schemes, or the alarming cardiopulmonary condition katsuki’s been developing of late. she’s not some shitty yuri protagonist pining over the nearest female bishōnen in her vicinity.

admittedly if she was to pine over anyone it sure as fuck wouldn’t be some guy, but that’s besides the point, since pretty damn near every person on earth is just some guy by her standards, regardless of gender. the fact that todoroki is not one of said people is entirely irrelevant.

her internal irritation is so distracting that she misses the tremors nearby until entirely too late, by which point todoroki’s stupidly perfect brows raise an incremental fraction and she goes: ‘oh’.

when todoroki goes ‘oh’, some shit is about to go down. 

katsuki turns slowly with an impending sense of doom, and sure enough, the sight that greets her is so nightmarish she seriously reconsiders whether the entire day has been just that. 

“don’t freak out,” a giant building-sized deku booms, apologetically, as his hideous giant face stares at them. “it’s just a quirk thing.”

it’s probably a good thing katsuki has gone speechless with outrage, since it permits todoroki’s constantly composed ass to ask useful questions katsuki probably would have coated in a fair amount more threats and cursing.

“midoriya. i didn’t know you were in tokyo.”

“well, i wasn’t meant to be,” deku says/booms like a foghorn, as the restaurant clientele shrieks and stampedes behind them. his sheepish expression is even more punchable when magnified. “it’s a long story. it’s almost sorted out now, though. i just saw you guys from over at the NPA office and thought i’d come ask if you maybe wouldn’t mind lending a hand? i wouldn’t ask but there’s going to be a lot of cleanup and your quirks would be really helpful to-”

“we’ll do it as long as you shut the fuck up,” katsuki yells, to cut him off, massaging her temples. “the monologuing’s bad enough when you’re not about to burst my fucking eardrums, jackass.”

“oh, sorry! i’m trying to be very quiet but this body’s just hard to get used to- thank you so much for helping, i didn’t mean to come bother you on break...”

“it’s fine,” todoroki says, and then seems to realise that her monotone doesn’t reach midoriya’s giant-ass ears and clears her throat, raising her voice to a shout. “it’s fine. let me go deal with the bill and then we’ll go.”

“sorry?” midoriya whisper-shouts, craning his monstrous head closer to them, the sight of which will haunt katsuki for the rest of her life. “i can’t hear what you’re saying!”

“she said she’s going to go pay for our nice fucking lunch,” katsuki hollers, with no small sense of satisfaction, as deku winces and todoroki slinks off. “since you want to come crashing it like a dipshit.”

“sorry, kacchan!” deku begs off, flapping hand gestures creating enough wind to knock over a nearby umbrella stand. “i just thought it would be a lot of help if you came to oversee the fall-out- especially with the building damage-”

“we’re good,” todoroki announces, to katsuki, apparently having given up on matching her in decibels. she’s got that classic hero look on her face, already in work mode, but just when katsuki’s about to do the same and jump into action, the look wavers a little and she frowns vaguely awkwardly. “thanks for doing lunch.”

“huh?” katsuki stutters, thrown, and then scowls at nothing in particular, stalling. todoroki’s the one who paid, albeit indirectly- it’s typically weird of her to be all formal about it all of a sudden, leaving katsuki to attempt to wriggle them out of the awkwardness of the moment. “i didn’t do shit except show up and eat, weirdo.”

“it’s been abnormally hard to show up and eat in the circumstances,” todoroki replies, a little wryly, and more concerningly a little resigned sounding. which is just unnatural, because todoroki may have expanded her range of emotions considerably since first year but resignation is not on her usual roster, and there’s nothing to be resigned about unless she had some kind of vested interest in this whole fiasco playing out any better than it did.

which she didn’t, obviously. katsuki’s been through this. she chose the nearest possible venue and rocked up in jeans and a t-shirt, and- and why is the fact that todoroki never dresses so normally out of class only now occurring to her, again?

she’d said ‘i think this is the part where we do small talk’. the part of what?

“yeah, whatever,” katsuki says, automatically, as her brain plays catch-up, which is the excuse she will forever stick to for what leaves her mouth next. “should have known you’d be a lousy date.”

todoroki goes ‘what?’ at the same moment deku does, ten times louder and more bug-eyed, which reminds katsuki that 1) deku is still there, 2) deku is still as big as his martyr complex, and 3) deku is the fucking worst, and allowing him to trap her into friendship is somehow responsible for this, she’s sure of it. 

“can we go handle this fucking mess or what?” katsuki snaps, instead of screaming or breaking deku’s very large nose or maybe self-immolating in abject humiliation, hands erupting into explosions as she jumps onto the balcony railing. maybe if she throws herself headfirst into the debris she’ll concuss herself and turn amnesiac. 

“um,” deku is saying, when she turns a withering glare his way. “um, yes! yes! yeah! let’s go do that!”

so she jumps skywards, explosions blasting her high into the air, and very scrupulously does not look towards the sounds of slick ice forming just behind her until todoroki skates into her peripheral vision, hair waving flag-like behind her. ahead there’s a building with a crater clean through it where deku must have erupted from, though when she turns to comment she finds him a fair deal behind them, lumbering pace slowed further as he avoids stepping on anyone or anything along the streets. instead her eyes lock on todoroki’s where the latter is staring at her, face unreadable, and she bristles hard enough to disrupt trajectory, correcting course rapidly before she plummets into an office.

“what?”

“i’m a lousy date,” todoroki repeats, neutrally, over the wind. katsuki grits her teeth.

“and what about it?”

she’s bracing for a lot, but not the horrible, sickening eye-crinkle thing todoroki does, dark eye twinkling even as her expression stays carefully impassive. “you think you can do better, then?”

“hah?”

“next time,” todoroki intones, very precisely, and then dips ahead like a complete coward as katsuki goes a color never previously visible to the human eye, sifting through about fifteen emotions before she decides to stick to outrage.

“what the hell? you suck at asking people out, icyhot!”

“you don’t have to say yes.”

“what, you think i can’t do better than this mess? you’re on, asshole.”

“i look forward to it,” todoroki says, gravely, and then there’s a collapsed building to handle and shit to do and if anyone wants to ask why katsuki is so especially gleeful in blowing shit up they wisely keep their mouths shut. she just likes the job, all right.

(for the record, it’s still not a date until katsuki says it is.)

[teamhappyme]

a series of promising events (4/5)

aaron hotchner x female!reader

word count: 6.7k

a/n: happy new year!! we’ve made it to part 4! this part differs from the 3 previous ones, as it takes place all in one (and a half) days. But there are flashbacks, represented with italics. if anything is confusing with the timeline, or anything else is confusing you in general, please let me know! my brain is a weird place and does not connect the dots when i post for a public audience. i hope you guys enjoy this part, it was really fun for me to write!

get ready, let’s go friends!

here are the links to part 1, part 2, & part 3

****

October 2012

“Some people care too much. I think it’s called love.” - Winnie the Pooh

You’re known for your predictability. Yes, you’re overly kind, extremely perceptive, and a little bit of a literary genius. But those closest to you knew the predictability of your life.

You craved routine. You woke up at 5:30 every morning, had breakfast, watched the news, and caught up on some domestic things before heading into the office. You stopped at the same bagel cart every morning, an Asiago bagel with butter for you and a coffee for Spencer. Monday’s, you treated the whole team. You got to work at 7:12, second only to Hotch. 

The team knew how you would react to every case. Missing or dead children would cause you to go silent, families being the target would choke you up, and anything including a scumbag with a signature kill made you nauseous. 

So it was safe to say they were more than surprised to find out that you’d left for a month long european holiday, from an email, with Strauss cc'd on it. The team couldn’t remember the last time you went on vacation, because you hadn't gone further than two hours in one day. 

In your travels through Europe, you stopped in countries that you’d only dreamt about visiting in your dreams. You saw Nyhavn, Denmark, the colorful canal right outside of Copenhagen. Hopped through Warsaw and Gdansk in Poland, before being silenced by your tour of Auschwitz. Next was France, the country you always said you would flee to once you aged out of the system. Besides hitting all the touristy attractions in Paris, you traveled through the alps, and made sure you stopped to see Giverny, the little village that inspired Claude Monet and his water lily paintings. The last true destination was Spain, jumping at the chance to flex your spanish minor muscles. You roamed Barcelona and Madrid, feeling a little like the Cheetah Girls as you stood in front of La Sagrada Familia.

The more you travelled, the more you’d thought about quitting. Thought about sending your resignation to Strauss through an email, leave your desk full of the mementos and picture frames, and continue falling in love with the continent you’d never been to before. 

But then you made your final stop in London, to the sister who you missed immensely, and lost the nerve entirely.

“You’ll regret leaving them for the rest of your life,” Emily said to you, and you wondered for a second if she was projecting her decisions onto you. 

“They don’t deserve me.” You’d mumbled out, just loud enough for her to hear. “I can’t continue on like this.”

You’d given the team everything you had for seven and a half years. The job demanded personal sacrifices you never thought you’d be capable of, until you met the people who signed on for this before you. The people who shared the same commitment to helping others, the responsibility to improve the world around them before the one that housed them. It was the first time you felt at home in your quarter century existence.

But the work never seized. The jet began to feel more like home than your apartment, hotel beds provided more comfort than your own pillow covered mattress. And no matter how many people you saved, no amount of gratification from loved ones could quell the loneliness building back inside you.

So you listened to Emily, and came back to the states on your original return flight, October 23, 2012. You returned to the real world in less than seventy-two hours and promised Garcia you would brush up on the next case before debriefing on Monday morning. 

You were betting on the fact that the team wasn’t lingering around the office, considering it was seven thirty on a friday night as you headed up in the elevator, fresh off your flight from the UK. The last thing you wanted was someone to corner you, when all you wanted to do was sleep off the lingering memories of your last night here. 

The glass doors leading into the BAU gave you a view of the bullpen; empty. Opening the door, you walked over to your desk, quickly glancing around the other spaces to see if anything had changed. It hadn’t.

Grabbing the files Garcia left on your desk and your car keys from the drawer, you tidied up the space the tiniest bit. You made sure everything was squared off to your monitor, updating the days passed on your desk calendar. You wrote a reminder on a yellow sticky to thank Reid for watering your small desk plant and stuck it to the screen for Monday. Everything looked like it was in its place, until you saw a blue stress ball sitting on your chair. Your head whipped up to the office at the top of the stairs, but the lights were off and the door shut. He wasn’t here. 

But you could feel the stare of his eyes from four weeks ago on you just the same.

You guys were working a local case in the District. 

The unsub had murdered three men, each with one shot to the head execution style. There were no signs of torture, and all three men were found with their eyes closed and arms crossed over their torsos; signs of remorse. 

It took the team thirty hours to stick the profile and find the woman responsible. Her name was Kathryn Downey, a forty two year old mother of three, with a law degree that hadn’t been used in fifteen years. After digging into the victims personal lives and her own, the motive and stressor became clear to everyone; her husband had cheated on her. 

You found Kathryn with a gun pointed to her husband’s head, his hands and feet duct taped, and a strip around his mouth keeping him silent. 

Her hands were shaking, and you knew from the second you saw her that she didn’t want to kill him. She was angry, and full of rage, but she wouldn’t be able to follow through with this.

As long as you use the right language.

“Kathryn, put the gun down, we’re with the FBI.” Hotch started in a calm voice, but she shook her head, hands shaking faster. 

“No. I have to do this. He,” She took a breath, pushing the hair out of her face with her free hand. “He has to pay.”

You glanced at Aaron before taking a step closer, slowly lowering your weapon. She needed to feel safe, and she needed to feel like an equal. 

“Kathryn, my name is y/n l/n. I’m with the Behavioral Analysis Unit from the FBI. I really want to help you through this situation, so I’m going to put my gun down, alright?” You slowly lowered the gun to the ground, kicking it back gently to Hotch. 

“Now Kathryn, I know your children are here. I don’t want anything to happen to them, and I know you don’t either, so could you tell me where they are so we can help them?” 

“In the basement, I locked them in the basement. I didn’t want them to,” She let the thought end, not wanting to manifest it into the universe. She didn’t want them to see their mother kill their father.

Hotch spoke gently into the comms, getting Morgan and Rossi down to the kids. 

“Kathryn, I want to know why we’re here in this situation. I’ve read the file, I profiled you and your family, but I want to know your side of the story. Why are you holding a gun to your husbands head?”

Her eyes widened in the slightest, and you were sure it was from the empathy in your voice. But this was your specialty, and you were determined to talk this woman down. 

“He cheated on me,” She whispered, and for a split second, you thought this was going to be easy. But then she pressed the gun harder into his head, and let out a low laugh. “After everything I’ve done for this family, for him, he just takes his pants off for another woman?”

You heard the safety click off, and Hotch’s own in return. Please do not end in a shootout.

“Kathryn, don’t look at him. Don’t think about him kneeling in front of you. Just focus on me. Tell me how you got to this moment right now.”

“How did I get to this moment? I got here by following around this sad excuse for a man for the last twenty years. Like a moth to a flame, I couldn’t escape this life of mine.” Her eyes started to water, and you internally sighed. You were getting somewhere. “I have a law degree, you know. Fifth in my class at Columbia, and I only used it for a year. And it was in sleazy corporate law. Because I got married, and I got pregnant, and Sean wanted someone to stay home with the kids.

“I went from the intelligent corporate attorney with her eyes set on the attorney general’s office, to a cliche housewife who spends her days cleaning and dotting on her husband and kids. I never wanted to be this woman,” She closed her eyes, letting the tears fall down her face freely. She looked so young in this vulnerable state, too young to have three children. Yet she looked so tired, and so defeated. “I gave up everything for this family. I gave up my career, friends, bucket list dreams, and a life that was waiting to be lived, for this man. I cater to his every need, I listen to him drone on about work, assure him when he’s feeling anxious, and give in when he needs a release. I am my children’s rock; when they need a shoulder to cry on I’m there in a second. They need help with their math homework, I’m the number one girl. But when it’s my turn to fall apart, when it’s my turn to be lifted up and supported, nobody is there for me. And he should be able to be there for me.”

If you hadn’t undergone intense training at Quantico, you would’ve been in tears by now. You empathized with this woman more than you should, and you were trying so desperately to help her out of this situation. So you continued to dig your fingernails into your palms, and spoke again. 

“I know what you’re feeling, Kathryn.”

“You don’t know what I’m feeling!” Wrong move. She ripped the gun away from her husband and fixed the trigger on you. Hotch moved so that he was only one step behind you, trying to get her to lower the gun. “You have no idea what this is like!”

“I do, Kathryn. I promise you I do. I may not be a wife, or a mother, but I know what it’s like to give yourself completely to a person. I know what it’s like to hold onto the stress and fears of the people you love. I understand, because I’m this person too.

“People like you and me, we feel the need to be the emotional support for everyone we love. We never want to see them struggle, and we never want to see them in pain. So, we listen. We overcompensate to make them feel better, and we check in regularly to make sure they’re okay. Our happiness, as strange and sad as it may be, is directly linked to theirs. We can’t be happy unless they’re happy. But once they come out of their depression, once they thank us for being the light in their lives, they walk away, and take the happy rainbow with them. And they don’t leave any for us.” Tears continued to fall down her face, but you needed to go further. She was going to break if you kept going. “Kathryn, I was in your position not long ago. I remember what it feels like when you realize that the love you have for someone won’t be reciprocated. That after everything you’ve done for them, all the small moments that you succeeded in taking their grief away and bringing happiness back into their life, they still don’t appreciate you. And it’s heartbreaking.

“But I’m standing across from you today, on the other side of that pain, trying to tell you that it gets better. It doesn’t go away, but it gets a hell of a lot better, Kathryn. So please, do not let this one moment that you couldn’t take the pain away ruin all the times you did.” 

You expected the tears. You expected an emotional end to this situation. You didn’t expect Kathryn Downey to drop her gun in the middle of the room, and collapse onto you. But that’s exactly what she did. And instead of letting go to untie her husband, instead of joining Hotch in cuffing her, you held her for a minute. You held her breaking heart in your hands, and tried your hardest to take away all her fears and pain for once in her life. 

After a minute, you pulled away and grabbed a hold of her upper arm. She gave you a slight nod, knowing this is what was always going to happen. You led her down the stairs and into the back of a squad car, as Aaron helped the husband to his children once outside of the house. 

You were leaning against the suburban that you came in, watching as the team debriefed with the local pd before being dismissed. But amongst the chaos, Hotch found your eyes, and gave you a knowing look. One that meant you were going to talk through the very personal negotiation you gave.

The team arrived back at the office just shy of ten o’clock, Penelope waiting for Derek at the elevator. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder as you led the gang into the bullpen, everyone dropping their go bags at their desks. 

You lingered for a moment as Hotch made his way up to his office, knowing you’d be joining him in a few seconds. You grabbed your blue stress ball, complimentary from the C.A.L.M. department meeting, as through the curtains you could see him drop his bag before checking his phone for any messages from Jack.

“L/n,” Here it comes. “Can I talk to you in my office please?”

You and Spencer shared a look, and he gave you a comforting smile in return. You took the steps two at a time to his office, and shut the door behind you once you arrived. He was standing behind his desk, so you didn’t feel the need to sit yourself.

You waited for him to speak, since he was the one that called you in. It was a little childish, but you weren’t the one who wanted the discussion.

“I want to talk about the negotiation.”

“I thought it was pretty successful. I empathised, I got her to drop her weapon, and no one was injured in the process.”

“Y/n, you know that’s not what I meant.” He uncrossed his arms, letting out a sigh. The two of you were too exhausted to have this conversation, but that wasn’t going to stop Hotch from going on. “I told you that you could lean on me when it all became too much.”

“That was six years ago, Hotch.” Defensive, but not rude. A fine line. “And this wasn’t about work, this was personal. You’re not obligated to listen to our personal issues that take place outside the office.”

“And you are?” Stop spinning my words, Hotchner. “I know you, y/n. This isn’t just something that can be brushed back under the rug.” You scoffed. “You don’t know me.”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t know me, Hotch. None of you do. You know my file. You know that I got a full ride to Bowdoin, that I was a social worker before transferring here, and that most of my life before eighteen was sealed away. I confided in you six years ago about my childhood and now you think you know me?”

“Why are you getting so defensive?”

“I’m not-” You paused, knowing that if you finished that statement it would, in fact, be defensive. “I’m just really tired and I don’t want to be having this conversation right now.”

“It’s not healthy for you to keep everything in while people spill their lives to you. And you know that.”

“Hotch,” You warned, your exhaustion quickly turning into rage.

“What, you really think I’m just going to drop this after hearing you confess to a serial killer that you have no joy in your life? And now you’re going to try and convince me that I don’t know anything about you? Bullshit, y/n. I know that you talk to your foster siblings every sunday to check in and make sure they’re all doing okay. I know that you volunteer with Garcia to help the families of victims cope with their loss. I know that you cling to Spencer like gum wherever you go to make him feel less insecure in a bar.”

“Stop it,”

“I know that your favorite color is purple, that you still write articles for CNN and The Times under a pseudonym. And I know, more than anything in the world, you want to be the mother that you never got to have.”

“Stop it!” You threw the blue ball into his builtins, hitting one of his stupid administrative awards in the process. He didn’t even flinch. “You don’t get to know me like that.”

“Why not?” You let out a low laugh as tears started to fill in your eyes. He was oblivious, and that's what made it hurt even more. You cracked your knuckles for a few seconds, waiting for him to connect the words you spoke at the Downey house and your frustration with him in this moment.

But his face softened, the wrinkles disappeared from his forehead, and you knew he figured it out. He didn’t need to say the words for you to know exactly what was going through his head. But he was with Beth, and you were not going to interfere. This wouldn’t change anything.

“It’s late, I should head home. I’ll get you my report before monday.”

You left his office without saying goodnight, and you tried to ignore the rest of your team huddled around Morgan’s desk, pretending not to be eavesdropping. But they totally were. 

Instead you grabbed your bags, giving Spencer a reassuring smile as his gaze lingered on you for a second longer. You had no intentions of turning around to see Hotch’s face. But if you had, you would’ve seen the same heartbroken expression across his face, realizing he let you walk away.

You tore your eyes away from the office, not wanting to relive the memory any longer. You stashed the stress ball under your monitor before turning out the light, and making your way back to the elevator.

Once you were settled back in your apartment, you sent a text to Reid and JJ, letting them know you got in okay and that you’d see them at the office on Monday. After getting a thumbs up and a ‘glad you’re home’ in response, you turned in for the night, trying to dream of nights in Paris and Barcelona instead of at the BAU.

---

It was hard for you to get back in the routine of consulting and profiling. Garcia had left you copies of three cases the team was going to be working on when you returned, and you’d barely worked through the first one in two hours. 

Three teenagers went missing from their small town in Idaho, and all were found in Seattle in the same week. Of course, your first case back included kids. 

You resorted to calling Spencer when you really had no idea where to begin. You felt like a rookie all over again, asking for help when creating a geographical profile or running new negotiation tactics. But your best friend was quick to help, assuring you that once you got back to the office, you’d fall back into the routine.

“Did you have a good time?” He finally asked, albeit apprehensively. You didn’t leave on the best terms with anyone, and they all seemed to know what pushed you over the edge.

“I did. It’s amazing to know that there is a whole other world out there that we don’t even know about. It’s so different over there, Spence. It’s peaceful, and beautiful, and everything the place you call home should be.”

You could hear the intake of breath over the line. “Does that mean you’re moving to Spain?” A smile crossed your lips just thinking about Barcelona. But, it wasn’t home.

“This is my home, Spencer. I’m not leaving anytime soon.” You left out the part about contemplating a new life for the better part of three weeks, knowing it would only cause him more paranoia. You were staying in Quantico, continuing what you were born to do.

After drafting a rough profile and reviewing family statements, you took a break from the paperwork staring back at you all morning. 

You made your way into the kitchen to find something for lunch, the afternoon approaching quick. All you really wanted to do was crash on the couch and watch old movies for hours, until monday morning inevitably rolled around. Selfishly you wanted your vacation to last forever. But your mind, and your bank account, thought differently.

After consuming a sandwich and some chips, you brought back the fresh mug of hot chocolate to the kitchen table, ready to take on the second file. Two women raped, tortured, and murdered outside of Miami. Why the fuck did it always have to be Florida.

Halfway through the family statements, there was a knock at your door. You grabbed your gun from the side table, just in case. Only three people had a key to your apartment. One of them was in England, one you just got off the phone with, and one… you didn’t exactly know where you stood with him.

After checking the peephole and seeing Hotch on the other side, you let out a sigh of relief. No one is coming to muder you. But it was quickly replaced with the memories of your last encounter, and the unspoken realization of feelings unrequited.

You placed your gun back on the table, and unlocked the door for him. He was wearing a navy blue quarter zip, jeans, and sneakers, the ultimate Aaron Hotchner not on duty look. It made your heart beat just a little faster noticing his hair was free of any gel, flopping naturally as he walked. 

“Hi,” You greeted him, half of you hidden behind your front door. 

A shadow of a smile crossed his lips, and he placed his hands in his pockets. “Hi. I’m sorry for stopping by unannounced. I know you must be tired and getting ready for Monday.”

“No, it’s okay. Did you want to come in?” You opened the door a little more, stepping out to show your sweatpants and sweatshirt look from behind the door.

“Thank you.” He murmured as he walked through the entrance, moving to take off his shoes. You told him a million times that you didn’t follow that rule, and that you hated it when people made their guests remove their shoes. But he told you once that it was a sign of comfort, that he felt at ease in someone else's home.

“Can I get you something to drink? I have some tea bags left over I think, or I can make you a cup of coffee.”

“No, I’m okay.” 

“Are you sure? It’ll only take a second. Oh, are you hungry? I still have some sealed crackers from before I left, might have something in the freezer if-”

“Y/n,” He interrupted you and you stopped in the middle of your path to the kitchen. “I’m fine.”

“Okay,” You nodded, making your way back to the living room. “Oh, I um, got something for Jack while I was in England with Emily. I know it’ll probably keep him holed up in his room for a week, but I couldn’t resist.” 

You pulled out the bag of souvenirs you got for the team, grabbing the London attractions lego set you bought for the young boy. Aaron smiled when you handed it to him, knowing the two of them would no doubt be starting this when he got home. 

“You didn’t have to get this for him. But he’s gonna love it.” 

“I know.” You reached in the bag once more, pulling out the gift you got for Aaron. “And I know you’ll probably never wear this, but I had to get it for you.”

He opened the box, a british flag tie on the inside. He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips, the tacky gift really meaning a lot to him. “Thank you. I can honestly say this is the most unique gift I’ve ever received.”

“Glad to hear it.” You tucked your foot underneath you as you settled onto the couch, letting Aaron set the gifts aside. You knew what conversation was coming next, but you didn’t have the courage to start it. Especially since he was the one to come to you.

He settled in on the couch, a cushion between the two of you, a clear boundary that he’d set. 

“Did you enjoy your time over there?” 

“I had a really great time. I can’t believe I’d gone thirty two years without leaving the country. You don’t realize how much of the world there is to see until you go and uncover a small fraction of it.”

He smiled while beginning to pick at his fingernails. This was a new tell of his, he was usually extremely reserved with his anxiety. “You sound like Emily.” 

“I’m going to take that as a complement.” You said with a small laugh, adoring the woman across the ocean. 

“It is. She called me a few days ago, told me you guys had a nice visit.” 

“We did. Prentiss knows how to have a good time no matter the city. It was a little too much for me, though.” 

“Nobody can quite keep up with Emily.” He added before letting out a breath.

“She also told me that you were contemplating leaving the BAU.” There goes the first shoe, dropping from the ceiling. “Are you still thinking of quitting?”

“No.” It was the truth. Em had spoken some sense into you, and you knew deep down, like you told Spencer, this was your home. “I just needed a break from everything. And Europe was an amazing distraction. But I’m back, and ready to get back into the swing of things.”

He nodded, some tension slowly released from his shoulders. He couldn’t lose another member. It was too soon.

“Was it because of me?” 

“What?” Even though you were expecting this conversation, it still caught you off guard. 

“I’m not conceited enough to think you fled to another continent because of a fight, but is that what pushed you over the edge? What led you to want to quit the BAU?”

In a word, yes. The argument was the last straw on the camel's back. You’d spent years with this unit, fulfilling a destiny that you made up for yourself so that you wouldn’t feel guilty for not having a family or friends to confide in. You spent the better part of the last three years pining for a man you couldn’t have, trying to fill the holes in your life by playing pretend. So yes, it was Hotch that pushed you over the edge. But you learned a hell of a lot about yourself in those four weeks.

“Hotch, did you know that this was the first time I went on an airplane for my own enjoyment? This was the first vacation I’ve been on in my life. I booked a flight on a Thursday night that left at six a.m. the next morning. I was spontaneous, and in control of all the moves I would make for the next thirty days. I’ve never felt more liberated in my life.

“But then I landed in Copenhagen, and had an anxiety attack. I can’t speak Danish, I have no idea how to get around a new country, and I only had thirty dollars in cash to my name. And the only thing I could think of to help me get through it, was calling you. I had your contact pulled up, ready to call you and tell you what a stupid fucking mistake I made. But then I could hear your voice in my head, saying ‘I know you’, and I’d never turned my phone off faster.”

“Y/n,” He sounded exhausted himself, but you weren’t going to give in to the apologies. Not yet.

“I had the time of my life there. I went to places that I never thought I’d get to see in my life. Places that my foster parents told me I’d never be important enough to go to. But I made it. I made it to Giverny, and I saw what inspired Claude Monet to paint the Water Lilies series with my own eyes. I went inside La Sagrada Familia and walked on the steps that Gaudi dreamt of. I saw everything I wanted to, and I wept every place I went to. Because I got myself there. I persevered and worked my ass off my whole life, to get there. I didn’t have any parents, I didn't have any siblings, a spouse, or children. I did it all by myself, and it felt pretty amazing to accomplish that.

“No one knows me like I do.” You finished. Your walls were back up starting to feel secure in your own skin again. 

He stayed silent for a few minutes, maintaining eye contact with you the entire time. He was calculating his response, trying to formulate the perfect response to get the two of you back on track. It was exhausting watching his brain work, and you wondered how tired he must always be.

After another minute, he sighed and dropped his hands into his lap. “Beth and I broke up two weeks before you left.” The other shoe had dropped.

“What?” For the second time tonight, you were rendered speechless by Aaron Hotchner. This was not the response you were expecting, and not the news you expected to hear anytime soon. The two of them were obsessed with one another, how could they just end it?

“We ended it two weeks before your trip. She accepted a job in Kyoto, and didn’t want to string me along with long distance. But she also said she knew my heart wasn’t in it anymore.”

You stood up from the couch, not being able to sit still with this new information. Hotch and Beth were no longer together, he said all those things to you as a single man, understood what you felt for him, and still let you walk out of his office. For four weeks. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” It was his turn to stand, still leaving enough distance between the two of you to continue your pacing. 

“Don’t deflect to another conversation.” 

“You’re the one that brought it up!”

He sighed, running a hand through his perfectly shaggy hair. “I don’t want to have this conversation with you again. So please, get it through your thick skull when I tell you that I know you. And I don’t mean that on a bureaucratic superior level. I know you, y/n. And just because you’ve been alone your whole life, doesn’t mean you deserve to be alone for the rest of it.” 

Your eyes started to water, so you looked away, gluing your line of sight to the wall next to you.

“You give us all one hundred and ten percent of your attention when we need you. And when I say all of us, that includes Jack and Henry. I’ve never met someone so intune to another person's feelings, who exudes so much empathy with one look and a smile. And we’ve taken you for granted for seven and a half years. Me the most.” Your eyes found his brown ones, begging you to continue looking at him. “I couldn’t have gotten through Haley’s death without you. And that is the biggest understatement of the decade. I am eternally grateful for all that you’ve done for me and Jack. But at the same time, I’m so sorry that it pushed me further and further away from you.”

His own eyes started to water, and he choked out a laugh. “What you said to Kathryn Downey, about giving yourself completely to a person and not getting the love reciprocated. I felt like an absolute idiot for not realizing that you felt the same way I did.” You closed your eyes with his confession, letting the tears roll down your cheeks. 

“There were so many times I wanted to tell you. But then Haley took Jack, and Foyet came, and the world got away from me. And I’m so sorry that you’ve felt the need to carry all our problems on your own.”

“Hotch, you don’t have to apologize.”

“Please, don’t call me Hotch right now.” He took a step toward you. “It’s Aaron, when I’m standing in front of you, begging you to just let me in.”

“I don’t,” Your voice cracked, and you rubbed your hands over your face in frustration. “I don’t know how to let someone love me.”

“I know,” He took another step closer. “You’re just going to have to trust me when I tell you I’ve been in love with you for years.”

He didn’t see the rest of your tears fall, because you threw yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder. His arms found their place around your waist, pulling you two impossibly close.

“I love you, Aaron.” You could feel him laughing with his chest pressed against your own, and he moved to kiss the side of your head. 

“I love you.” He whispered back, causing the last of your tears to fall onto his sweatshirt.

He started to pull away, just enough to get a look at your face. His eyes were no longer filled with tears, but his cheeks still glistened when the light illuminated the damp spots on his face. He brushed a piece of hair behind your ear, letting his knuckles gently graze your temple. You caught his hand in the middle of his movement, lacing your fingers with his own. You’d been dying to know what it felt like to hold his hand like this for years, when you found yourself comforting him in his office one night, lightly holding his hand in yours. But this was so much better.

“You good?” He asked, and the corners of your mouth turned up the slightest. 

“I’m good.” He traced the lightest check mark on your laced hands, causing a true smile to grace your face.

“You have a tally to see who can make me smile the most?” 

“It’s just mine. Been keeping it for years. But I’m always in the lead.”

You laughed while letting go of his hand, wrapping your arms back around his neck. His eyes flickered to your lips for a second before looking back at you. You gave him a small nod, knowing he was asking for your permission. 

When his lips met yours, you knew this was the feeling that all the fairytales sang about. He was gentle at first, slotting your upper lip between his own. It was slow, and full of love from the years of knowing one another inside and out. He bit your lower lip softly, barely there, and you slowly parted your lips, letting him trace your tongue with his own. 

All you could think about was how warm he was, how his breath was actively leaving his lungs and entering your own as if you were one person. It was all consuming, and you were grateful that he took the lead, because you couldn’t focus on anything but him.

His hands slipped under your sweatshirt, resting on the skin just above your hips. You let out a small gasp as his cold fingers made contact with the sensitive skin, but it only made him laugh into the kiss. 

After a few more moments of getting lost in the feel of one another, you reluctantly pulled away, needing air to fill up your lungs. But Aaron didn’t go far, gently resting his forehead against your own. 

“I love you. And I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to stop telling you.” You closed your eyes and tilted your head up, slowly kissing him again. 

“I’ll never get sick of hearing it.” You mumbled, your lips still grazing his own. He smiled into the kiss, which only made your heart glow brighter and brighter the more he showed you how he felt.

You pulled away first, tracing the outline of his jaw with your thumbs. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He tilted his head to the side, just enough to press a kiss to the palm of your hand. 

The tenderness this man exudes is beyond belief. “I really love you, Aaron.”

He laughed while pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’m glad to hear that.”

You let him hold you for what felt like an eternity, but in reality was only a few minutes. “I promised Jack I would take him out for ice cream to make up for missing his soccer game last night.” 

“Okay,” You said and started to pull away, but his grip on your waist only tightened.

“Really? You’re just gonna let go without a goodbye?” You laughed at his fake hurt expression, so incredibly happy that you get to see Aaron in this light, enjoying his son, his life, and you. 

“I’m not about to stand in the way of Jack Hotchner and a sugar rush. That guy loves his sugar.”

He let go of your waist, but not without a light squeeze to your sides. “I know we literally just started this, but I really would like to tell him. I don’t want to keep any more secrets from him than I have to.”

You smiled at the thought of Aaron telling Jack how in love the two of you were. It made you feel complete, in a way you never thought you’d get to experience in your life.

“Tell him. As long as he doesn’t blab about it to anyone on the team just yet.” 

“You sure?” You nodded while passing him the souvenirs as he slipped his sneakers back on. 

“Aaron, he’s your son. I’ve loved him as long as I’ve loved you, maybe even longer.”

He stood up once again, that stupid smile not willing to leave his face any time soon. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” 

“Must’ve been something pretty good.” You said with a laugh, which he silenced by placing his lips on yours. You hoped the butterflies you felt now would be there every time he kissed you, no matter how many years have passed. 

“Like that.” You said once he pulled away. His dimples were showing now, and you wished that you could take a picture of him in this happy moment and remember it for the rest of your lives. 

“I’ll call you tonight.” He said and opened the front door. 

“Okay. Have fun, tell Jack I said hi.” 

“I will.” He kissed your cheek before starting the walk back down the hallway. He didn’t even make it halfway before turning around, and giving you one final kiss in the doorway. 

“Love you,” He said and gave you one more peck, before you shoved his shoulder. “I love you too. Now get outta here, Hotchner.”

****

tags: @simplyprentiss @michaelahah @ssahotchner99 @svrgicalhands @hotchtopic @unionjackpillow @philcoolson @tommhollandzxhaz @kathleenjasmine @canimarrypizzaornah @reaperwalking @inlovewithaaronhotchner @shelbymm11 @mrshotchner23 @tropicalwrites @averyhotchner @dreamy-moments @softhxtch @crazymar15 @theinsanespaceship15 @wecouldbreakthedistance @jeor @funnycuteandannoying @andherestograce @thisisntjuliana @captwilson @kennedyblair @lovelysunflowerxoxo @rcompton @iifaequeenii @iwaizumiee @mrsaaronh0tchner @abbeyannsmith-blog @becausehello @rinacriedpower @ssa-raye @ephemeral-barnes @slxtherinchxser @baueoud @lieswithoutfairytales @hug-a-bug-boo @blogmythoughts @freebanditghostcalzone @sugarbutterbailey

[kpopfanfictrash]

Fire and Darkness

Member: Seokjin (BTS)

Prompt: Song!drabble, inspired by You Should See Me in a Crown, Bilie Eillish 

Rating: PG-13

Idea: Persephone!Y/N + Hades!Seokjin

WC: 2,421

↳ part of my 30K milestone drabble game

“More wine?” Seokjin offers, politely dabbing his lips with a dark, linen napkin.

The entire table is elegantly set with fine silver plating and red bouquets of poppies. Poppies are your mother’s favorite flower, although you could have told Seokjin she would remain unimpressed. Demeter regards the dinner before her with the stiff boredom of the upper class, deigning to dine with the lesser.

“No, thank you.” Deliberate, the goddess sets down her fork. “I rarely indulge when I travel. Tell me, daughter,” she says, turning to you. “How go things in the Underworld?”

Demeter says the word Underworld in the same way some might say vermin. Arching a brow, Seokjin faces you in tandem. His lips are pressed tightly together, as though he is trying to hold in his laughter.

“The same as usual,” you say with a shrug. “Fire. Torture. Lots of dead people.”

Seokjin’s lips twitch, though he remains silent. His dark aura is prominent, rolling off him in waves. When you first met, you found this to be intimidating but now, his power is merely a comfort to you. A solid reassurance he sits there beside you.

Demeter winces at your bluntness. “Well.” Lifting a small piece of ambrosia, she daintily chews. “At least there are only three months left of your banishment, daughter. Soon, you’ll be home where you belong. On Mount Olympus.”

Seokjin’s grip on his knife tightens. 

He harbors no love lost for Olympus, for the brothers who cast him out with nary a thought. You hold little love for the mountain either, but this is a fact Demeter chooses to ignore.

“Yes, of course,” you say, reaching out for your glass. The dark gemstones of your diadem glimmer when you turn your head. “I welcome the day.”

If your mother truly listened, she would hear the lie in your voice, but Demeter either does not, or will not. Seokjin does, though. His gaze permeates the dark haze of the room; he is looking at you, always looking at you. This is his dominion, after all – the depths of the Underworld. The endless shadow realm with which he was tasked to rule. It is his Kingdom which Demeter insults. Your Kingdom, as well, for six months of the year.

This was the bargain struck behind both of your backs.

Releasing a sigh, Demeter adjusts her fork on the table. “I am sorry this had to be done, darling,” she says, reaching out for your hand. Although you stiffen, you try not to bite back. “Leaving you down here with him... such a horrible God in such a dastardly place…”

Seokjin lifts a brow. “Horrible, yes. Deaf? Sadly not.”

Demeter continues as though he has not spoken. “Trust me,” she says. “I’m doing everything in my power to convince the Pantheon of your return.”

“Oh, please.” Yanking your hand back, you cut into your meal. “As though you weren’t part of the decision to send me here. You wanted to marry me off to the Underworld. You hoped I would mother a new God.”

Your marriage was a surprise to you, although it shouldn’t have been. These things do happen occasionally. The main pantheon of Gods convene and force the marriage of the lesser, hoping for a child who might bolster their ranks. You know this is what happened to you, even if no one will say it outright. 

Demeter’s cheeks turn a faint shade of pink. “That is not why you were sent here.”

“Oh?” Equally delicately, you set your silverware down. “So, am I to believe the official version? The human version? The one where Seokjin saw me, kidnapped me and tied me to his bedposts – yes?”

“Completely inaccurate.” Seokjin continues to chew. “I only tie those to my bed who ask to be tied there.”

You continue glaring at Demeter. “We all know the truth, mother. Let us not play pretend.”

Seokjin’s smile widens at your fierceness. He loves it when you get like this; when you are boiling over with purpose and passion. It was one of the first compliments he gave you. This was after your wedding, spoken out of surprise – that someone as seemingly delicate as you were could command such fierce anger.

Gaze narrowed, you meet your mother’s stare head-on. “Do not enter our home and proceed to spout lies.”

“Our.” Demeter’s lips thin. “My, that did not take long. How quickly the world changes, darling.”

“Does it?” You reach out, tracing a line down the petals of a poppy. Instantly, the blood-red veins brighten. “I have never truly felt Mount Olympus was my home. Not in the same way you do. I am not one of the twelve. I am not in charge of anything big, nor important and I was treated as such. Here, though...” 

You leave your thought unfinished. Lifting your gaze to your mother’s, you settle back in your seat. The darkness becomes you, glinting off your crown.

Demeter clenches her jaw. “You act as though the Underworld is preferable to Olympus.”

“Olympus has never been kind to me.”

“Nor to me.” Casually, Seokjin swirls his wine. “Namjoon has always been rather touchy about the sky and Taehyung, the sea. It is not as though I chose this land to govern, you know. Of course you do,” he says, his upper lip curled. “You were there in the beginning, Demeter.”

Demeter draws herself taller. “And yet,” she says, facing him for the very first time. “You seem to have done well enough for yourself.”

Seokjin’s smile widens. 

Through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, a river of glowing fire is visible. Steam curls wherever lava touches obsidian, gemstones glimmering on either side. It is a stunning visual, if a somewhat unconventional one. There is nothing like it on Mount Olympus.

“I make do,” Seokjin says simply.

Sniffing, Demeter pushes her chair back to stand. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay for that nightcap,” she says, her hands folded before her. Soft, violet light radiates from her form. “I must return to my duties.”

“Pity.” Your chair screeches when you stand, yet you pay this no mind. “The visit was too short.”

Demeter’s eyes narrow as she nods, as though in agreement. Turning around, she glides across the floor.

In any other domain, Demeter would simply vanish at will. Not in the Underworld though, where beings can only come and go at Seokjin’s behest. Gods and mortals alike must exit in the same manner – rowed across the river Styx by Charon, beneath the gaping jaws of Cerberus.

Seokjin watches your mother leave, a polite smile on his lips. When the door closes behind her, echoing through the room, he holds up a hand. Seokjin waits, listening for something before his body relaxes.

“She’s gone,” he says, glancing your way. “Just exited the palace. Charon will take it from there.”

Still staring at the door, you pull yourself from your thoughts. Turning around, you push your mother from mind as you stride towards the window. Each step you take transforms your clothes, lengthening and darkening from the springtime colors you know your mother prefers. Loosening your hair, you let this fall to your neck.

Coming to a stop, you survey the world at your feet. On your first day in the Underworld, you were determined to hate it. There were no pleasant stories about the darkest of Gods. Seokjin was rumored to be moody and fierce, with the gall of enjoying the hellish Kingdom he ruled.

Of course – as it is with most things concerning the Gods – Seokjin was not as he seemed.

He was moody, yes and he could be fierce when provoked. Never to you though, which you saw right away. The Gods warned you he loved to play games and so, when you met, you had your guard up.

Despite this, he greeted you at the gates for your arrival. Your first day was a tour; Seokjin led you through the Underworld with the same reserved politeness as a tour guide on holiday.

You saw none of his legendary fire and brimstone then – Seokjin merely nodded, leading you around the palace. His realm was nothing at all like what you’d imagined. The other Gods only spoke of the Underworld disparagingly, with a tinge of fear to their tone. They said Seokjin’s Kingdom was the land of dead things, of cold things, but now you know better.

The Underworld is a realm of fire and darkness, of whimsy and spirit – there are no limits within as to what you can achieve. In the reflection of the palace window, you see Seokjin walk up alongside you.

His appearance has also changed with the departure of Demeter. Instead of his company garments, Seokjin is dressed in a plain tunic and trousers. His hair is darker, messier and framing his face. No jewelry adorns his body, save for the gold band upon his finger.

Upon reaching your side, Seokjin glances sideways. “Are you alright?” 

Slowly, you nod. Still staring at the wasteland, your gaze roams molten lakes, rugged mountains and glimmering terrain. Beyond the river Phlegethon, which cuts through the gardens, lies the region of Tartarus wherein rest the damned. Seokjin keeps them close by, lest they escape and harm the rest of the Underworld.

The rest of your kingdom is nothing like this. Elysium is by far your favorite part of your domain – full of golden meadows which smell of baked bread, fields of asphodel which bloom in whimsical colors. Seokjin loves to change them at his fancy. He loves it even more when you do the same.

All other Gods reign over the living. They control whatever handful of mortals populate its surface and yet, beneath it all, you and Seokjin are masters of creation.

Nodding, you turn. “I am,” you assure, stepping closer.

Reaching out, Seokjin delicately tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. He looks at you tenderly, despite the fire to his gaze. In response, a blistering heat spreads over your body. Before you met Seokjin, you didn’t understand this connection. You only knew of want, of need – never of this. Never of love.

The first few months in his land were admittedly lonely. Seokjin gave you space, staying as far away from the palace as possible. He thought he was granting you a favor by this; he thought you hated him, like the rest of the Gods.

With time though, the ice between you began to thaw. Your glances lengthened in nature, touches softened and lingered. Before you knew what was happening, you were paying attention. 

You found Seokjin not as serious as the rest of the Gods said. Most of his fierceness was reserved for his domain. When he was not ruling, Seokjin dearly loved to laugh. One night he said he loved your laugh the most.

When you returned to Olympus, you didn’t realize how difficult the separation would be.

You thought you would enjoy being home. You imagined when you came back things would return to normal, but the shadows of Seokjin clung to your existence. Most nights you lay awake and imagined his touch. Most days, your thoughts strayed to his arms, to his kisses and the inexorable sound of his laughter.

Without him, the halls of Olympus felt strangely empty.

You only saw him once during those long summer months – the solstice; a night where all gods gathered on Mount Olympus to celebrate. Even Seokjin was to attend, the mighty God of the Underworld, who rarely left his realm of darkness.

The moment he set foot on the mountain, you knew. You could feel his presence in your bones, you glanced up when he entered and found him looking at you. When your gazes met, he softened. When you saw him, you strengthened.

And then, you realized everyone around you had stiffened. That was when you saw Olympus for what it truly was. As the bride of the Underworld, you finally saw how they treated him. Seokjin was a God. He was a member of the Pantheon, one of the most powerful beings in existence and yet, he was held separate.

Seeing how cruel the Olympians were tore you apart; it replaced the ache in your chest with a fierce desire.

When your six months of penance were over, you fairly flung yourself across the river Styx. Seokjin waited calmly when you ran into his arms. That was the moment you realized where you belonged. 

At home – with him.

Tilting your chin upwards, you meet Seokjin’s gaze. “You aren’t horrible, you know.”

He raises a brow. “How rude,” he says as he draws you near. “I don’t come into your home and insult your better nature.”

“This is my home.”

“Oh, right.” Seokjin hovers above your mouth. “The sentiment stands.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you chide, sliding hands up his back.

Seokjin shivers – the fearsome lord of the Underworld, undone by your touch. “I wouldn’t,” he admits, bending to brush his nose with yours.

Satisfied, your grip on him tightens. Since you fell in love, you have found parts of yourself which lay dormant before. You uncovered a carnal, seductive woman who takes what she desires. Before, you always asked for permission. Before, you always waited for permission to be granted.

With Seokjin though, you’re his Queen and there is no need to ask. He encourages you to act on your desires – insists upon it.

Tilting your head, you brush your lips with his. The moment before your lips touch, something inexplicable crosses his expression. Something almost like uncertainty, which gives you pause.

“What is it?” you say, pulling back.

Seokjin hesitates, which is unusual. Although he is quiet, Seokjin speaks his mind freely to you. Still, the shadows behind him seem to lengthen with each passing second.

“Do you…” His normally stoic gaze flickers. “Do you wish Demeter to be successful?”

“What do you mean?” 

Seokjin strokes your cheek with his thumb. “The rest of the Pantheon put you here. My brothers put you here. It was not your choice to marry me, even if I did not ask. Do you ever… wish to return?”

Your answer requires no pause. “No.”

“No?”

“No,” you say, stepping closer. Pressing your chest to his, you look up. “My burden is not what you imagine it to be.”

“No?” Seokjin seems mildly amused by your certainty. “Pray tell.”

“Perhaps it was at first,” you admit, wanting to be honest. “I didn’t want to leave the world I knew. But now...” You glance past him, to where the river Phlegethon cuts a golden path through the gardens. It sends a strange hum of rightness through you. “I would not be anywhere else. My burden now is being parted from you,” you whisper, returning to Seokjin.

Hope flickers, however brief, within his dark gaze.

“You brought me to life,” you say, hands sliding up his back. “With you,” you add, meeting his gaze. “I finally feel like myself.”

Something sparks in him then, lowering his beautiful brow to yours. “You are the only alive thing in this world,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your skin. “If I played the smallest part in this, my Queen, then consider me satisfied.”

“Satisfied?” you purr, lips lifted in a smile.

Seokjin’s dark gaze turns carnal. “Never,” he confesses, kissing you deeply.

   © kpopfanfictrash, 2019. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[redbirdbella]

@clintasha-week advent calendar day 25 - holidays

No hate against quiet celebrations of christmas i just really want to write a found family fic. My last advent calendar day!!! 

The Invitation arrives mid-November.

You are cordially invited to Morgan Starks first Christmas. The 23rd to the 27th of December.

Great. Just great. It's a little too early for Christmas but either Peppers excellent organisational skills or Tony's excitement had got the better of one of them. She should reply, she really should, she loves her little goddaughter. But Christmas has always been a quiet affair, a lazy day between her and Clint. One where she didn't have to walk around with her guards up, ready for anything. She pins the invitation to her notice board and mentally makes a note to reply, once she's made a decision.

Then HYDRA rears their ugly head and Christmas becomes more of an afterthought. Its Clint who gives her the nudge she needs.

"So what's the plan for Christmas?"

Natasha shrugs "It's Morgan's first Christmas"

"Yeah, I know. That normally happens once someone's had a baby"

"I'd like to be there"

"Yeah?" Clint asks smile rising to his cheeks, "Pepper says it's just going to be low key. Just the Avengers, Bucky, Rhodey, Happy and Peter and his Aunt. We can bring Lucky. Leave early if it gets too much"

Natasha nods. That sounded - tolerable. "At least I won't have to cook"

It sounded simple. Just RSVP but nothing could ever be simple for Tony. There's even a freaking timetable for her to agree too.

They should arrive anytime on the 23rd but preferably in time for the adults-only party in the evening. The words PETER CAN ATTEND BUT WILL NOT BE SERVED ALCOHOL have been written in pen underneath. The 24th involves baking and board games and carol singing and a visit from Santa followed by a child-friendly fancy dress party in the evening. The 25th is Christmas. Presents encouraged, Pyjamas only. The 26th is an open house with exclusive invitations to those Tony deems worthy of paying homage to his baby daughter. She knows that Hills been invited so that'll be - nice.

They receive time off from SHIELD starting the 16th so there's a rush to get presents (I mean what do you get a billionaire and an 8-month-old?!) acceptable pyjamas and a fancy dress costume. Clint decides they should be pirates so he can master the eye patch ready to take over from Fury. Natasha leaves that to Clint using the time to buy her archer a few presents. A new lead for Lucky and a Tourist's guide to Budapest amongst other things. She spoils Morgan into a state of rotten worse than the back of Clint's fridge but it's worth it or it will be.

It's already by the 23rd. Just. She'd be lying if she wasn't still wrapping presents under Lucky's supervision in the back of the quin jet on the way over to Tony's Minnesota mansion. The sun is dipping as they arrive exchanging hugs and a quick squeeze with Morgan before she needs to go to bed. She's surprised to find she doesn't hate it. They give them space to settle into their rooms. Separate accommodation had been provided, but one instantly becomes a luggage storage facility. No one comments. It's nice even when Jarvis directs them down to the Outside barn for the party. It's smart casual, laid back and lit up with fairy lights and a moderate Tree in pride of place. Like someone had put real thought and care into who and what they were doing. Theirs an ice sculpture that's giving out some sort of non-alcoholic punch. A pool table, air hockey table and various amusements but it's the target practice area built into the corner with various weapons from axes to darts that they make a beeline too. Clint quickly claiming the bow. It's a nice icebreaker. Bucky and Clint hit it off occupying two of the lanes showing off to no one but each other, leaving Natasha and Steve to talk.

"Your Clint is good isn't he- there's not much between them. Your Clint. My Bucky" he's had a little to drink but Natasha doesn't care. They've earn't this.

"He's not my boyfriend"

"I know. You're just sweet on him and he's sweet on you. It's nice to see you both happy" Steve says knowingly.

That just about sums it up. She's sweet on him -for him. Just about him.

"Yeah, I'm just sweet on him" she nods.

"Good. Think he's got a fan" he says tipping his bottle towards the young Spiderman who Clint greets warmly.

Natasha smiles downing the rest of her drink in one "Ever thrown an axe before Cap?"

Slowly the numbers in the building rise until everyone's arrived and it's - nice. Really nice. Just a relaxed evening with people she considers friends. She doesn't think once about home or switch to the 5D chess or Machiavellian mind games. They all call it a night at 2 am for fear of waking Morgan but Tony assures them the Barn will be open to use thorough out the stay. Perfect.

Lucky wakes them early the next morning. Too early. but he still manages to drag them on a walk exploring the gardens of the house. It's beautiful even as the snow starts to fall driving Lucky crazy. Clint holds her hand once the mansions out if view. "Need to keep them warm or Morgan will scream the place down when hold her"

They walk until the winter sun rises enough to melt the snow clouds and return to the house Jarvis greeting them upon arrival. Apparently most of the house were in the kitchen baking- or at least attempting to. Only Rhodey seemed to be busy with a few saucepans. The pantry is well stocked though and Steves happy enough to try his hand at gingerbread to escape Bucky and Sam's endless bickering. Natashas just happy to hold the sleeping Morgan, Lucky laying on her lap as Pepper gives Clint the pantry tour. She can't escape the nagging worry that she's not worrying enough until Morgan wakes and stares longingly at the next Christmas tree of the Starks small forest. She gives her a tour and gets roped into help Clint with cookies when Morgan gets hungry and Clint forgets the correct conversion rate between metric and imperial. They're good though melting into her mouth as Clint offers her out a bite. She can feel eyes on them but she doesn't care. They don't care, she reasons or they'd have commented when they'd disappeared into the same bedroom the night before. The afternoon starts as planned with boardgames but quickly dissolves into chaos once it becomes clear that playing trivial pursuit with 3 geniuses, two people with somewhat blank memories of the past 60 years and a Norse god will simply end in tears. It moves to charades which Clint cheats at using ASL to end his torturous turns as soon as possible. Peter soon figures that out causing them to move swiftly onto Jenga the ultimate superhero lever. The games are long drawn out competitive things. It's taken more seriously than most of their missions Natasha notes with a grin. She melts into Steve's arms letting her whisper trash talk into her ear, maybe he's more fun than he first appears. It lasts until Morgan decides it shouldn't screeching and whimpering and demanding a nap. Ruining the quiet calm required for competitive Jenga. Slowly the party breaks away, Tony reminding them of the carols and Santa's visit promised later. Natasha promises to come only to see Morgan's reaction Clint had a $50 bet she'd cry at the sight of the new Intruder, presents be dammed. He's unfortunately right and it takes her through half of the carols (and some of those own songs that mention too much war to be specifically Yuletide) to settle into Pepper's arms before doing the tour of all her Uncles and Aunty's. She coos at Natasha obviously complaints about the new red intruder, but one tickle under her chin and she bursts into giggles.

"Your a natural" Pepper says with a smile, "Obviously her favourite"

Natasha savours the cuddles for a little longer before handing her back carefully removing her little hands from her curls.

"Thank you, Natalie, we are going to have a little nap ahead of the party tonight. Starts at seven. Back here, it's too cold for this little one in the barn. She'll want to see all the costumes hopefully you'll be much happier when it's all your friends dressed up, huh, baby" Pepper coos.

She whisks the little one away before the tears can flow once again leaving Natasha to care for her own needy creature who is just desperate for a walk.

Clint has laid out their costumes on the bed. The costumes are beautiful, Clints has a definite focus on his arms sleeved cut enough to draw attention to each muscle. The swords are surprisingly substantial.

"Mine from the circus"

"A pirate in the circus?!"

"A swordsman in a circus?"

He grins "exactly would you like to learn?"

She smiles picking one up and testing its weight. "I think I can figure it out. Most weapons are fairly intuitive"

"Ready then? Let's see if you can figure it out"

He meets her sword swinging it gently into hers. She grins and meets it using the motion to try and push him off balance. It's ineffective so he capitalises using the swing in her weight to knock her backwards on to the bed but he's too confident in knocking her down leaning too far forward that it would be rude not to bring him down with her.

"Hey" he grins, not exactly disappointed by his new position.

"Hi" She whispers standing up before the blush can rise to her cheeks "You'll have to bring these to SHIELD one day. Give me a proper lesson."

Clint agrees completing a quick change into his pirate costume. Natasha isn't one for fantasy but she can make one exception letting her mind wander.

"Your turn?" He says before putting on his boots.

She doesn't even need to question the sizing if anyone's Natashas body it's him. She changes quickly staring at her self in the mirror. What would madam say at this act of childishness dressing up for a child barely able to comprehend their presence let alone who they are dressing up as. Whatever she would say it doesn't matter Clint wraps his arms around her waist.

"This has been surprisingly Ok. Christmas with the family"

Natasha leans back into his arms "It's complicated, but I wouldn't want to be anywhere else"

"Welcome to Christmas" he laughs, "now I just need to get the mutt ready, You wanna be a pirate bud?"

Lucky complains about the pirate flag neckerchief until the fuss arrives at the party. Steve and Bucky and Sam have dressed in 1940s attire. Bruce in his lab coat and goggles. Thor surprisingly as a firefighter though Natasha isn't sure how he learnt about them but she's sure it's a long story. Rhodey as a member of top gun. Peter is some sort of star wars character Clint recognises on sight though the teenager seems more distracted by his Aunt and Happys couples costume. Tony and Pepper are attendees of Jurassic park the two scientists that become a couple if Natasha remembers the films. Morgan dressed in a dinosaur all in one.

"Oh, you are terrifying" Natasha coos offering her arms out for the little girl. She chirps and delightedly reaching for her hat.

Pepper hands her across returning to grown-up conversation with May and Happy.

Natasha let's her hold the hat bringing her to the sofa and to Lucky's waiting nose.

"Does she smell like dinosaur" Natasha coos letting Morgan pat at Lucky's ears. She manages to keep a hold of her goddaughter for most of the night but she has a curiosity for hats swapping quickly to gain a small collection. She falls asleep playing with Clint's buttons and that draws to a sudden close. Tony smiles that new smile he's developed just for his daughter and takes her into his arms.

"Jarvis will drop off breakfast in bed tomorrow if required. Presents opening at 10.30"

The rest of the evening is a timeless blur of a short walk for Lucky, Warm showers and bed before waking up in Clint's arms as Lucky nudges her arms. Apparently jet lag is harder to adapt to when you're a Canine.

"Merry Christmas Lucks" She whispers brushing her fingers through his hair. They're walking fifteen minutes later holding hands today simply out of habit. They discuss gifts and tell stories until they can no longer feel their fingers when they get back no matter how hard Clint holds her. The ice melts away as they eat breakfast, warm Pastries on a platter left by Jarvis dressed in her new pyjamas. It's a new sort of intimacy. Childlike and raw but it's not awkward. Not like she fears.

They give presents amongst friends when 10.30 rolls around. It's tolerable everyone opening presents at once no one needing to explain or pretend. She needs to work on her pretending, she decides as she opens present after present and finds herself liking most of the presents. It's easy to slip under the radar and just enjoy opening presents or watching others open they're own. Well, that is until Clint opens his tourist guide to Budapest his pointed look puncturing the mood until everyone's quiet.

"I know you've been meaning to visit," Natasha says with a grin.

"Yes, I've been told Budapest is very beautiful at Christmas time" Clint returns flicking through the book.

"Well?" Sam asks "is that it?"

"Thank you Natasha," Clint says with a nod when he reaches the back page.

"Fine keep your secrets" Sam mutter's returning to his own pile.

They settle in for Lunch and then nap in front of the fireplace after the queen's speech. Tony had indicated a childhood tradition enforced by his butler. She holds Morgan as they doze pulling the little one in close.

"So this is Christmas huh?"

[dreamescapeswriting]

Masquerade Ball ~ Kim Taehyung X Reader

Word Count: 4,734

Genre: MafiaAu || Cute || Hints of Violence, death, and Smut

Summary: You’re a big secret in the Mafia world, you run your own Mafia business and so does Taehyung…being from two different Mafia families and wanting to marry is a big no no so when Namjoon, the biggest Mafia owner of them all, finds out you’ve secretly been together, it doesn’t go so well.

A/N: I STILL SUCK AT SUMMARIES

Ice pick. That’s what people called you, it was a stupid nickname and you hated it but it did do its job. It made people fear you, which in your line of work was perfect. You were in the Mafia business, you’d been in the Mafia business since your father passed it down to you, many weren’t happy with the crossover from your father to you, but you didn’t care. You didn’t have to prove yourself to anyone if they doubted you they would soon regret it. Your father raised you to be a badass who didn’t take shit from anyone. There was one of your dad’s men who decided to challenge you when you first took over, it didn’t end well for him and it’s where your nickname originated from. You tortured him for three days long, not just because he doubted you but because he’d tried to betray you, attempted to run off to another family with inside information and everyone knew that was a big no, no, but you tortured him with an ice pick, finally killing him at the end of the three days with the same ice pick, after that no one bothered to try and judge you again. You wouldn’t stand for it.

The nickname had some pro’s to it, no one outside of your Mafia family knew who you were, no one knew who your father passed the family down to, he kept you a secret as a child, you were sent away to a private school and when you were home on holidays no one knew who you were thanks to living in a mansion with high security and high walls, you were the secret weapon for your father. Trained since you were old enough to walk and talk on how to run the family business, taking care of the drug runs and protection which is what you specialised in. “We have an event coming up and I can’t have you fucking it up.” You ordered sitting in your office and looking at one of the new guards you’d hired, you had mascarade ball to go to, it was a big charity event going down and you were being hired to look after an old tiara people were bidding on. It was some expensive antique that they charity were selling, people in your family weren’t happy you were protecting a charity event but this is something you cared about, you stole from the rich to give to charities and you sold drugs for money for yourself and those around you, you didn’t need to be greedy about everything. “We won’t fuck it up.” One of the guards named Justin said to you, kicking his legs up onto your desk with a smirk on his lips, he was one of the cocky ones that worked for you, you couldn’t fire him because your dad handpicked him, you sent him a fake smile, leaning forward on the desk to look at him, his eyes darting straight to your chest, you were wearing a low cut top and you wanted nothing more than to smack him for looking at you like that. “Justin. You’re one of the biggest fuck ups in this room.” You grunted pushing his feet off the desk and going back to explaining the plan for the entire night again. “I need Justin and Damien on the tiara at all times, you’re not to leave that case all night, do I make myself clear?” You questioned turning your attention to Justin again who was nodding, then to Damien who was nodding along as well. “Good, I’ll be on the floor all night. They think someone will come for it that night, so we’ll all be armed.” You reminded them, sitting down in your desk chair and relaxing against the cool leather. “Go Home, get some rest and I’ll call you in two days to get ready for it. Justin.” You said stopping him from leaving the room, everyone else all gone. “Get a nice suit, I don’t want you turning up in a tracksuit, we have to make it look like we’re fitting in. Remember no one knows who I am, so it’ll be easy for me to fit in but because your dumb ass likes attention,” You started, getting up from the chair and walking over to him, you patted his back. “And got caught by two different families means they know you, so keep your head down and look like you’re supposed to be there.” You order, shoving him out of the room and going into your bedroom down the end of the hall, relaxing as soon as you heard the front door shut and lock on its own. “Fucking idiots.” You groaned going over to your wardrobe and opening it, you needed to get changed for bed. It had been a long day of explaining the plan to a bunch of morons who didn’t understand why you wanted to do what you were doing, not that they should be questioning your orders anyway, it was their job to do whatever you told them to do, no questions asked or answered. If you wanted something doing it was to be done, end of discussion.

“Justin if you’ve forgotten something you can come back tomorrow.” You groaned into the intercom, he was standing at your front door, ringing the doorbell repeatedly, it was gone midnight and all you wanted to do was sleep, “Please, I just need to grab my jacket.” You groaned going out of the bedroom and down the stairs to unlock the front door, he came bursting in through the door and was holding up a gun to your head. “Justin, what are you doing?” You questioned looking at him, but he kept it aimed at you, “Knees!” He screamed at you, you got down onto your knees and stared at him, he had a weird look in his eyes, the crazy look. “If this for calling you dumb, it was a joke.” You weren’t scared of him, or the gun. You just wanted to show you were willing to co-operate with him, you didn’t see the point in getting shot for nothing. “Just shut up!” He yelled, his eyes were wide now and he reached into his back pocket taking out a fabric bag and handing it to you. “Put it on!” You nodded putting the bag over your head and wishing that you took your dad’s advice for going to sleep with a gun. You never thought someone would show up in the middle of the night to take you, it was insane. You felt Justin begin to tie your wrists behind your back and you knew he’d put the gun down. “Who’s paying you to do this? Whatever they’re paying I’ll triple it.” You offered but ignored you, dragging you up from the floor and out of the front door, your bare feet touching the concrete. “Shut up, just shut up. You’re not talking your way out of this.” He ordered you heard a car door open and then you were shoved against the seats on his car and it slammed behind you.

You were thrown against the floor and the bag was ripped from over your head, stood in front of you was Taehyung, everyone in the Mafia world knew him, he was one of the big ones in town.   “Who’s this? I asked for Ice Pick, surely you know your boss and not his girlfriend?” You were helped up from the floor by one of the guards in the room and Justin was pushed down instead. “I’m sorry for any inconvenience this bone head might have caused you,” Taehyung said turning to look at you and untying your hands, you rubbed where the ropes had started to burn your skin, there were red marks across them too, “He is a bone head, but he’s brought, you the right person.  I am, ice pick.” All eyes were back on you and a gun was being aimed at you by a guard. “I’ve already had this one point a gun at me, just tell me what you want.”  You said, walking over to a chair in front of the main desk and sitting down, Taehyung wanted to smile at the cockiness you were showing. You were confident even though you’d been taking from your own home. “Well Justin did his job he can leave.” You said looking at Justin who was staring at you, you were mad at him but weren’t going to show him that just yet, you’d wait for the right time to kick his ass for this. “You’re pretty confident for someone who’s been kidnapped.”  Taehyung excused everyone in the room and sat down in front of you, you stared at him. “Kidnapped? Is that what we’re calling it now?” You smirked leaning against his desk now that everyone was gone, he smiled back at you, leaning across the table and kissing your lips. “You’ve got interesting foreplay baby.” You teased, Taehyung was your boyfriend. You’d been together for two years now, secretly together. No one wanted the two different families to merge but you and Taehyung were in love, you’d been in love since you were little kids, growing up down the road from one another, going to the same school and same playdates, he sat back against his chair and looked at you. “You’ve been selling in my zones, normally it wouldn’t be a problem but you’ve been selling in my zones without payments to me.” You stared at him, was he being serious right now. Normally he wouldn’t care about that sort of stuff. “That’s it? I owe you money?” He nodded and you leant forward to stare at him. “You could have just asked me Tae instead of getting Justin to take me at 12 am…” You said with a smirk on your face, you looked around the office and spotted a mini bar so you went over and made yourself and him a drink, you’d done this many times before, on secret meetings, you didn’t talk about business on those though, usually, there wasn’t a lot of talking when you met up. Another reason you both kept the relationship a secret was because people would see you as a weakness for one another, and take it upon themselves to take one of you out. “He told me about your little night at the charity event, he’s a snitch if you pay him enough, not good for your family business.”  You put the glass down on the desk and slid him one, pouring scotch into each glass and sitting down again, he was right. Justin was bad for business but you had to keep him around.   “And what? You know I’m involved in the protection business, I didn’t think I had to tell you about everything I did,” You stated, sitting back down in the chair and drinking from your glass, he drank from his own. “You don’t, but I have to be there that night,” You stared at him, waiting for him to continue with his point of the conversation. “I can’t promise the deal will go down smoothly…if you’re there I can’t protect you.”  You scoffed shaking your head at him, it clearly wasn’t his reason. “What’s the real reason?” He smirked, you knew him too well and he loved that sometimes but right now he hated it. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep my hands off you all night.” You sighed, you both wanted to tell people about your relationship, not even anyone in your guards knew you were together, it was hard to be around each other when you couldn’t be together. “I’ll be in disguise all night, no one knows me anyway.” You mentioned getting up and walking to his side of the desk, maybe you could sneak off together in the night and have a secret dance, you sat down on his lap and looked into his eyes. “If the plan goes south…You have to stay out of the way.” You bit down on your lip, you knew where this was going. He was going to tell you what he had to do that night, “You’re taking the tiara aren’t you?” He sheepishly nodded and you sighed getting off him and looking at the wall in front of his desk. Your plans had never intertwined this badly before, he took your wrist in his hand and looked at you, leaving a kiss on your skin. “I have to, it’s for Namjoon, you know what his Mafia is like if they don’t get what they ask for,” You knew all too well, Namjoon almost killed your father when he failed to kill someone he wanted killing. Sure you and Taehyung were one of the biggest Mafia families but Namjoon’s family, The Angels, we the top dogs. The biggest ones in Seoul, the ones that owned everything. “Just stay out of the way when it all goes down and there won’t be a problem.”  You bit down on your lip, getting mad at the fact that he was telling you to throw your night away. “Tae…I’m being paid to protect the tiara…if it goes missing under my care what does that say about my business?” He knew you were right but you also knew he couldn’t stop what he had to do for Namjoon, you sighed looking back at him and sitting on his lap once again. “I’ll stay out of the way…please stay safe.” You whispered to him,  kissing him on the lips, leaning your head on his forehead and looking him in the eyes, he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist and smiling. “I’m always safe.” You punched him playfully in the arm and getting off his lap. “I should go home, I have to pamper for the next two days if I’m going to look good on Saturday.”  You smirked, you knew he hated the fact that you were going to be dressing up and not just for him. “What are you wearing?”  He questioned getting up from his chair, you turned to face the door and smirked, you could tease him some more. “You’ll see on Saturday night, just hope it isn’t too short.”  He growled pushing your front down onto the desk, you were bent over you ass exposed in the PJ shorts you were wearing, his hand ran along the exposed skin. “No one is allowed to see what’s mine.” He growled in your ear, you smirked biting down on your lip and moved your hips a little, you loved pushing him over the edge and making him mad. “But no one knows it’s yours though.” His lips moved from your ear to your neck, kissing and sucking against the skin, you hissed a little. “Maybe I should leave my mark.”  A sharp smack hit across your ass and you moaned out, giggling a little as he ground his hips into your ass. “You’re fucking mine.” He growled, smacking you again before yanking your shorts down and pulling down his jeans.

The dress was a long tight fitted black ball gown, a sweetheart neckline that exposed your chest and made your breasts look bigger, you knew it would tease Tae over the edge, he hated when your skin was exposed like this, you had a black and silver mascarade mask to cover your face for the night, Taehyung told you he would be wearing a pure black mask with an all-black suit, he wanted to keep his eye out for you but you kept your dress and mask a secret from him. “You look amazing.” He whispered from behind you, you were standing near the entrance hall, your back to him so you could see everyone who was entering the hall, Justin was locked up in your house, you didn’t want him blabbing about your trip to see Taehyung that he organised and it’s not as if Tae’s men were going to start running their mouths, they knew better than that, so Damien was alone with the tiara, it was safely inside a glass casing but not for long and you knew that. “You look better.” You whispered, not looking in his direction, you knew if you looked at him you would want to start kissing him and never stop, “You covered my marks,” You could already tell from the sound of his voice he was pouting, you felt his fingers run along your neck where the heavy-duty foundation was covering the deep purple marks from the night you spent together. “I had no choice since Justin is such a snitch. Didn’t want him running to Namjoon with our little secret love affair now did I?” He grumbled something that you didn’t hear so you went to move away but he gripped onto your wrist, “I’ll make them harder to cover next time.” You smirked at his words, he always kept his threats as promises. “See you then baby,” You whispered back to him going over to Damien to check on him. You had no idea how the night was going to go down but you knew it was going to be a bad one for anyone who got in Taehyung and his crew’s way, they were ruthless. “Damien, you know you’re one of my best right?” You said, trying not to sound sentimental, nothing should happen to him, Tae was trying to make sure of it but there was no promises, no promises in anything you were involved in. Everyone knew it was a life or death situation, no two ways about it. “I know boss, don’t worry. I won’t let you down.” You nodded and left him alone, going to find a bathroom to cool down in, you were almost at the women’s bathroom when a hand gripped your wrist and pulled you along a hallway and up a flight upstairs. “Tae, no.” You giggled as he rushed you up and into an office, he slammed and locked the door behind you, you walked further in and saw a glass window looking down at the entire bottom floor, you could see Damien watching the tiara closely. “Is he going to die?” You questioned, Tae was standing behind you, his hands on your waist and his lips on your neck, you rolled your head back in pleasure and moaned, “We’re not here to talk business.” He whispered, his hands running up and down your spine as he sucked on your neck, your eyes fluttered shut and you turned around to face him, you ran your hands up untied the back of his mask, he did the same to you and you smiled up at him. “Then why are we here? We have a job to do.” You attached your lips to his neck, sucking on the skin and smirking as he groaned out your name. “We’re staying out of the way.” He spun you around to face the window again and pressed your body against it, you hissed as the cold glass hit the exposed top of your breasts and he chuckled leaning down and whispering in your ear. “What’s stopping me from taking you right here and right now.” He growled, you whimpered under his touch, his fingers playing with the laces of your corset cut top, you wanted him to, you wanted him to take you right there and then, have you screaming out his name, fingers scratching down his back, pressed against the glass for everyone to see but you knew you couldn’t. The wrong people could find out and you’d be in deep shit. “Tae we can’t.” He moved away from you and you wanted to cry out from the loss of his touch, you straightened yourself back up, you were about to say something when there was a gunshot downstairs, “Down!” He yelled grabbing your arm and yanking you onto the floor, you looked around and saw the glass to the window had been shot through, people on the ground floor were screaming out and you heard men yelling. “That your guys?” You whispered looking over the glass and down to where Damien was stood, he was gone now and the tiara was gone as well, meaning Tae’s guys had done what they’d come to do. “Tae?” You looked around and he was leaning against a desk, hand holding onto his abdomen, your eyes scanned down and his once white shirt was dripping in blood. “Tae!” You screamed rushing over to him and pulling his shirt open, he began chuckling as you did so, your hands rushing to the bullet wound of his side, you pushed your hands down onto him. “If you wanted me shirtless baby all you had to do was ask.” You ignored him, taking out your phone from your bra and trying to dial for help, but the blood was stopping you. “Fuck sake.” You grumbled the door was booted open and in walked Namjoon and two goons behind him. “Taehyung!” He yelled with a laugh in his voice, you looked at him and he looked at you, you’d never met with him face to face before and you knew you owed him money for selling in his areas but right now that didn’t matter. “Who are you?” You ignored him, keeping your pressure on Taehyung’s skin and trying to keep him alive, he was bleeding too much now. “I’m no one, can you call for help please.” You pleaded, your eyes welling up with the thought of Taehyung dying here. Namjoon nodded and his men and they left the room, “They’ll get some help here,” He threw a belt down to you and you tightened it around the wound and hissed as Taehyung groaned out in pain. “I can’t have one of my best dying on me now can I?” Namjoon chuckled looking at Taehyung who was avoiding eye contact with him, “Where’s Ice Pick, I thought he was supposed to be here tonight,” Namjoon questioned going over to the window, you kept your eyes on Taehyung who was looking at you, his hands gripping onto your wrists. “Don’t leave me.” He pleaded to you, you nodded, tears in your eyes as you looked back into his, “I’m not going anywhere. Stay with me Tae, you can’t die.” You whispered to him trying to ignore Namjoon who’s eyes were back on you again. “Marry me…Marry me, if I survive…Marry me.” He pleaded to you, now it was as if Namjoon wasn’t in the room anymore, your eyes landed on Taehyungs and you nodded. “I’ll marry you, no if, about it, I’ll marry you right here right now.” You giggled to him, he smiled weakly as you and you kissed his lips, Namjoon came over and looked at you both. “I love you Tae, I don’t care if I lose my dad’s business, you’re the only thing that matters to me.” “Ice pick?” You looked around at Namjoon, his gun was aimed at you now and his goons were back with a paramedic, you were pulled off Taehyung and Namjoon dragged you to the broken window, pointing out Damien who was laying on the floor, dead. “Your men aren’t shit.” He threw you down onto your knees and you groaned as the glass cut through the fabric of your dress and into your knees. “You know families aren’t allowed to merge without my saying so.” You ignored him, your eyes going over to Taehyung who was being stitched up by a paramedic who was looking my nervous about the situation. “Then this is me asking for your permission.” Namjoon ragged you up by your hair and made you face Taehyung who was half out of it by now, his head swaying back and forth. “He’s on death’s door, you’re gonna marry him?” You nodded, wriggling from his grasp and going over to Taehyung, “I’ll pay you triple a month, ten times, I don’t care Namjoon…let him live and let me marry him.” Another paramedic came into the room wheeling a bed, Taehyung was put on it and you were held back by Namjoon. “If I let you marry him what does that say about me?” You watched as the bed went out of sight and you felt tears in your eyes again, you knew this wasn’t going to end well. “I let you off just like that? You owe me a lot of money girly, you’ve been late with payments, you’ve been selling in my zones, and now I find out you’ve been fucking Taehyung and planning to marry him…” You nodded and he chuckled shaking his head at you, he liked that you had a cocky attitude but now was not the time and place to act like that. “No. Not happening, you get a punishment, just like he got.” A blade was pulled from his pocket and you knew what was coming, no one got away with hiding anything from Namjoon. There had to be consequences or people would walk all over him. “Do it.” You said with no fear in your voice whatsoever, you weren’t scared of him. Of anyone. “Everyone will know your weakness…that you’re ice pick. Is that what you want?” He quizzed, the blade running along the line of your neck and down to the top of your spine. “If it means I can be with Tae then Yes.” You answered him, he chuckled taking in a deep breath before plunging the blade into your side, the opposite side to where Taehyung had been shot, you groaned out as he pulled it out. “Get her to a paramedic.” He ordered throwing you into the arms of one of his men and leaving the room.

You ran your fingers along Tae’s knuckles, you were sat in the chair beside his hospital bed, your wound was taken care of easily but Tae’s was a little harder, the bullet entered and exited his body and the paramedic who stitched him up did a botched job, so he was now laid up in bed in a coma. “Tae you gotta wake up now.” You mumbled looking at him, you’d paid for the biggest hospital room, one with a chair that reclined into a bed so you didn’t have to leave his side. “Making me nervous here.” You whispered leaning back in the chair and looking over some paperwork, you’d just bought out the auction house that was shot up during the charity evening, you were giving it to Namjoon so he could grow his drugs in ease, his last place was found by the cops so you figured it would be a goodwill gesture. “You’re giving him a building he almost killed us in?” You almost dropped the pen at the sound of Taehyung’s morning voice coming from nowhere. “Shit Tae.” You giggled getting off the chair and hugging him, he looked at the papers still and you pulled them over to him. “A goodwill gesture you know…for allowing us to get married.” You tucked hair behind your ear and he sighed, kissing your neck and then taking the papers, ripping them up and throwing them into the nearby bin. “He’s not having the place I asked you to marry me in…We’ll do it up and we’ll live there. Make it into our own home.” He moved over in the bed and you got in next to him, he kissed your jawline. It was his way of trying to be romantic, converting the building he almost died in, into a family home. “So what did I miss?” He questioned, moving hair from beside your neck and kissing it. “Nothing much, Damien died, Justin, I killed for being a stitch…that and I needed to take my anger out on someone.” He chuckled hearing you admit that to him and you looked at him. “You meant it though…Do you want to marry me? I didn’t get stabbed for no reason?” He chuckled at you and nodded. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He admitted, kissing along your collarbone and pulling you into his chest. He never wanted to let you go, he wanted you by his side always, merging two families together to rule side by side as a bigger and better Mafia duo.

[wolfpawn]

I Hate You, I Love You, Chapter 165

Chapter Summary -Tom and Danielle go to Suffolk for their second anniversary as a couple. While there, Tom realises that Danielle has already gotten started on some of the wedding plans which results in them setting a date.

Previous Chapter

Rating - Mature (some chapters contain smut)

Triggers - references to Tom Hiddleston’s work with the #MeToo Movement. That chapter will be tagged accordingly.

authors Note - I have been working on this for the last 3 years, it is currently 180+ chapters long.  This will be updated daily, so long as I can get time to do so, obviously.

Copyright for the photo is the owners, not mine. All image rights belong to their owners

tags: @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​ @jessibelle-nerdy-mum​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @damalseer​ @hiddlesbitch1​ @winterisakiller​ @fairlightswiftly​ @salempoe​ @wolfsmom1​ @black-ninja-blade​

Danielle bit her lips together as she felt herself reach her peak, forcing herself to not grip Tom’s hair too tightly as he made her feel so good. She gasped as the final waves of her orgasm were joined by a kiss that was given to her core before Tom crawled over her body, smiling cheekily as he came face to face with her. “I love you,” She smiled, feeling worn from their activities. “As I love you, my beautiful Elle.” He leant down and kissed her, not overly surprised when she leant up and deepened the kiss. “You are well and truly back to form,” He smirked as he forced their lips apart for a moment.

“Three times since we got here, that’s not bad by any accounts,” Danielle agreed.

They had decided to spend their second anniversary in Suffolk, away from the crowds of London and spending time with Diana. Tom brought Danielle for a lovely meal in Manzoni’s, the restaurant that led to the awkward first kiss of theirs and afterwards, insisted on kissing her on the doorstep, though this time, the kiss did not end there and he ensured she had an incredibly pleasurable evening after. Of late, after recovering from her Ironman, Danielle’s libido seemed to go back to her pre-training and pre-maternal urge norm, much to hers and indeed Tom’s delight.

The next morning led to slight bouts of sloth on their behalf before amourous attentions once more, leading them to almost lunchtime before they forcibly extracted themselves from the bed.

They were drinking tea as their porridge cooked when Diana knocked on the back door and entered. “Finally up, I see.” “We are embracing the holiday feeling,” Tom smirked back, going to the pot of tea they had decided would be a better idea to make and poured her a cup.

“How was Manzoni’s?” “That new chef you mentioned was working, you’re right, it’s even better now, somehow,” Danielle commented from the cooker.

“He is good, isn’t he?” Diana smiled. “So, have you two started talking properly yet?” Tom chuckled at his mother. “Are you just here to badger us about it?” “The sooner you plan it, the sooner it is planned.”

“You sound like Danielle when she is talking about her safety stuff.” Tom eyed his fiance warily as he said that. She gave him a warning glance with a slight smirk with it.

“And?” “We have decided on Ireland, in Elle’s parish church from her childhood. She explained it holds a really important place in her family and it is small and quaint and away from prying eyes. It will be lovely, so it makes a lot of sense.”

“How small?” “The maximum capacity is about a hundred plus people, nothing extravagant,” Danielle explained. “Doing approximate numbers for the church part of things, we are looking at around thirty under capacity but that’s good because we know we’re forgetting a few people.”

“Right, names are important, have you a list started?” “No,” Tom looked awkwardly.

Danielle left the room for a moment before returning with the backpack she had received for her Ironman, taking out a notepad she had in it. “I have all of my side and friends done. I have started your side too, but I know there is an aunt or uncle somewhere missing because the numbers aren’t right and I would wager you have a friend from school you will think to invite.”

Tom looked at her shocked at the organisation she had clearly put into the page of names, making notes who they were and of any conflicts, some may have, mostly referencing her aunt Bernie. “I...I was going to say I’m surprised, but no, how could I be, this is you through and through.

Danielle laughed at him. “I also took note that we will have to arrange buses from the airports and spoke to the local B&B, they will book out the dates of our choosing for us, if we give them a date soon, so I also called the parish office and got the dates the church is free on the timeline we are looking at, so we have to arrange that. I think we will have to go over a week or two in advance to ready the last of everything and for the marriage course, of course. Though, I booked that and flights for January, that gives time for your other commitments, Ace Con and whatnot.” She explained.

Tom simply stared at her in shock. He had asked had she looked into one or two things, thinking that perhaps she would begin preparation, he had not thought for one second she would be so thorough so quickly. “I...I feel somewhat unprepared in all of this.” “Course, what course?” Diana asked curiously.

“In Ireland, I am not sure if it is the same here, if you want to marry in a Catholic Church, you have to do a marriage course with Accord, it’s like this religious church-related family service, so I booked that. It’s nothing really, just preparing you for down the road, times of trouble, if you want kids, the usual marriage stuff. It’s more a box-ticking exercise really, though if you haven’t talked about this stuff before now or you haven’t had bad patches, are you really ready for marriage?” Danielle questioned.

“I think they are becoming something here, not obligatory, mind.”

“Well, they are at home and with our schedules, I thought it a good idea to plan it for then.” “What is on the cards to say you are both busy for that?” Diana asked curiously, always eager to know what her children were doing workwise. “I have a few things I will be involved in, going a few places, nothing too long, quick stops around Europe,” Danielle informed her. “Usually three to five day things and paperwork in between. And a trip to the US for a meeting or two, obviously.”

Diana nodded, knowing that there would be some form of plan such as this already before looking to her son. “I am doing a stint in one of Harold Pinter’s plays in London, Betrayal, as the name suggests, it is not the most cheerful of work but an interesting piece,” He explained.

“And are you the betrayer or the betrayed?” She asked curiously.

“I play the poor betrayed husband,” Tom pouted as he spoke.

“So plenty of confused and angry fans after this,” Danielle joked.

“I am glad you enjoy my torture.” Danielle stuck her tongue out at him playfully, causing him to chuckle. “I guess we better book a date so while we have a chance.”

“I guess we should.” A thought occurred to Tom. “What about that B&B?” “What do you mean?” “Well, they will have the dates.”

“Tom, I warned you before, Irish people are not the least bit bothered by this sort of thing and there’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that a local run B&B from my hometown, with kids that went to school with me, who have used my dad’s vet practice since before I was born are going to give my wedding dates to some foreign shites trying to make money off us.”

“You are putting a lot of faith in people that you have not known really for at least a decade,” Tom warned, having had more than one person he thought he could trust show that his trust had been poorly placed in the past.

“It’s a way of life in Connemara and indeed most of the non-city areas of Ireland. You say nothing and deny all knowledge of other people’s business to non-locals, as I said it's a local family business and if they can't look after the locals, well, Ireland is the place that coined the phrase ‘boycott’. It's one thing to talk among ourselves but to outsiders, that's just not done.”

“So, you would threaten them?”

“Ironically, it would not be me or putting them as I don't live there anymore, it will be those local people that they call their friends, the local GAA people, the lads that went to the pub with my dad, the women that went to the dances with Mam. It’s just an unwritten rule you don't embarrass yourself or your family and you definitely do not bring a bad name to the parish. Whatever about the generation I'm from but my dad's generation, Mr O'Leary and his wife, they never would risk her name or insult their family in such a manner,” Danielle explained. “Sometimes the anonymity of the city has its advantages though, growing up we always knew what our neighbours were doing but at the same time we were always there for one another when it was needed.”

“Will they have a problem with those coming from England for it?” Tom asked.

“Why would they? We're bringing them paying customers, we’re not there to bother anyone. We don't automatically just decide to hate all British people, that's not an economically sound practice. We are just mildly suspicious as a default setting which is healthy really, all things considered.”

Tom knew before he even saw her face that Danielle was sticking out her tongue at her own playful comment. “Behave,” He warned her, his own playful smile evident. “What dates are available? The sooner I tell Luke the better.” Danielle went to the page where she had put all of the information the parish secretary has provided her with. Tom studied the dates as well as taking out his phone and checking the calendar and within 40 seconds, he placed an ‘X’ beside three of the dates.

“Are they the ones that are acceptable or are they ‘the never gonna happen’ dates?” Danielle asked curiously as she looked at the dates he had put the “x's” next to, all three were not dates that she could think of for particular reasons as being an issue.

“The latter.”

“Okay,  so we work off the rest.”

“What about you, are you available every one of these dates?” Tom asked, doubtful that Danielle could be free for the entirety of the summer.

“The ones I was not available for, which were two dates, I didn't even write down. One is the all branch AGM, and the other is my mother’s anniversary. I know she would want me to get married but I could probably pretty much guarantee that she would not appreciate me doing so on her anniversary.” “No, that goes without saying,” Tom agreed. He looked over the dates a little bit more, Danielle noticed that he checked his phone for a moment before putting an ‘X’ beside another date. As soon as she looked at it she realised which date it was, she laughed. Tom looked at her worried as to a reaction. Seeing her laugh, he decided to check verbally. “You don't mind?”

“Not at all. I don't think it bodes well to take one of your favourite days of sport in the year from you,” She laughed. “And it's the height of the GAA season, so I can guarantee there won't be a single pub, hotel bar or restaurant that will be showing that over whatever GAA fixture is on for the day.” She tussles hair as she spoke.

Tom took her hand and put it to his lips, kissing it gently at her respect for his favourite sports day. “If it was the only viable day?”

“You said it does not suit you and there are six other days that are free and available, it's a non-issue.” She looked at the dates again. “If we choose the date before that takes place, I would assume, unless we go on a honeymoon of six days, that does not suit either. So how about, this one?” She pointed to the weekend after the final. “That way you can watch it or go and we can be to Ireland after?” “But you said you want to come over a fortnight in advance?” “I’m sure you can slip away for a weekend.”

“No, it's too close and I'm not leaving everything to you.” Tom looked at the dates that came after if he was honest, he thought them too far away. So instead, he looked at the only other available date before. “How about the June date?” Danielle looked at the piece of paper for a moment. “That’s only eight months away. Jesus, that's a terrifying thought. Has it really been 3 months since you asked me?”

“Time flies when you're having fun.” Tom beamed. “If it's too close then that's fine.” “No, let's go with that one.” Tom looked up at her. “Elle, if you want to take time to think about it.” Danielle’s response was not to argue but to instead to take out her phone, scroll through the contacts and bring up the number she needed. “I think June to be the best.” She showed him the number she was about to ring and when he gave a small nod she pressed the call button.

It only took three minutes between the secretary answering the phone and Danielle pressing the end call button. “It’s official, we are booked for June.” Danielle looked at Tom, who seemed somewhat shocked. “Second thoughts already?” “No, I just...In eight months, we’ll be…” Tom could barely compute what was happening. After all his planning, with all his thoughts on it, there was a date set to legally marry Danielle. It was almost unfathomable. “I can’t believe we have a date set.” He rose to his feet and leant in and kissed her. “Eight months will be an incredibly long and yet short time.” “With work, with plays and meetings, sets and meet and greets, we won’t see it pass by. It is strange to think, but by the time we book a reception, hotels and whatnot, by the time Emma and Jack organise a passport for Lucy and everything, eight months is nothing.” Tom frowned. “I thought you don’t need a passport to go to Ireland. I used my driving licence one weekend to get into Dublin for High Rise.” “You don’t under the Common Travel Area and all that but come Brexit, who knows, they already applied, just in case.” “I guess we will all need to be sure.” Diana took note to check her own when she went back to her own house. She beamed proudly at having urged her son and her future daughter-in-law into actually setting a date. “I will leave you to eat and do a few things. Don’t forget to book a venue next.” She instructed as she left.

With quick goodbyes, Danielle started thinking. “I genuinely cannot think of too many. I suppose if you want to be fancy, there is always Kylemore Abbey?”

Tom Googled the place and his brows rose. “It’s beautiful.” “Of course it is, it’s in Connemara, we don’t do things by halves.” She smiled, looking at the picture in front of them of the building. “It is only from the 1860s but it is beautiful, nonetheless.” “And they take weddings?” “For the right price, they will be more than happy to facilitate whatever we ask. The question becomes, are we willing to pay such prices?” Tom suspected that there would be a chance that Danielle would have an issue with such things. He had considered how to approach it but now was the best time. “Elle, Darling, I m not sure how often you are planning on doing this but I am very much only considering the once so we will do this right.”

“I just don’t want to waste money.” “Is it wasting it for us to have a lovely wedding day?” “It’s one day, I don’t…” Danielle inhaled deeply. Her fiance was a renowned actor and she knew that came with more money than sense. “Just nothing too insane.” “Elle, don’t force yourself into budgets. We are not going to do anything mad, even the ring is a family heirloom, we are not extravagant spenders, so if the hotel costs a bit, then fine. I doubt you plan on some mad dress.”

Danielle scoffed, “Valentino, Darling,” She impersonated the accentuated Cruella De Vil accent as she spoke. “Just a hundred thousand.”

Tom chuckled and shook his head. “If you wanted.” Danielle stared at him in horror. “Are you insane?”

“I just want you to be happy.” “Tom, here and now, I m saying this. This whole thing is not going to come within an ass’s roar of that sort of money. No, not happening. I will call it off it does.” “Looks like I found the ‘Get out of Jail Free’ Card.” Tom jested, rushing out of her reach before she could nudge him in retaliation. When she went over to him, he pulled her in against him. “How did I manage to find you, a sensible, beautiful, intelligent woman like you?”

“A sacrifice to an old God or two, I think.”

“Very possible.” He leant down and kissed her, wanting her to feel how intensely he loved her from it.

Pictures of Kylemore Abbey for reference

[just-dreaming-marvel]

CHAPTER ONE - THE BEGINNING

LEGACY: A Tony Stark Daughter Story

MASTERLIST

Word Length: 2,500ish

Summary: Brief summary of Bailey’s life. The Team gets back from retrieving Loki’s Scepter.

I was born November 19, 1997 as Bailey Richards. The beginning years of my life were fairly normal, from what I can remember. And I thought I remembered all of it, turned out that that wasn’t the case but that will be covered later. I had a mom and a dad, no siblings. I was extremely smart for my age, a genius as some would say, and was enhanced. I had healing abilities and super strength. I was happy. And I thought that the people around me were happy. I guess I was wrong. When I was four years old, my parents sold me to what we now know was HYDRA. The first few years of me being there, they didn’t do anything too bad, mainly just schooling. Trying to smarten me up so that I could easily blend in. It wasn’t until I was about 9 years old that they started teaching me how to fight, growing my abilities, as well as torturing and running tests on me. 

Tony Stark, aka Iron Man, rescued me in October of 2011. I was 13 at the time. Him and SHIELD put me in the foster system and constantly kept tabs on me. Tony took me from my foster families to have me stay with him on my birthdays, holidays, and whenever else he felt like having me. February 2013 was when Tony finally adopted me. Something about a PTSD episode and meeting a little boy named Harley. Still confused on what that all had to do with me, but I just went with it. Pepper was okay with it but not thrilled. It’s not like she didn’t like me, she actually saw me as the daughter she never had; she was just worried that Tony didn’t know what he was getting himself into.

Once adopted, I moved into the Avengers Tower with Tony, Pepper, and, obviously, the Avengers. I started to train every morning with Natasha, but Tony refused to let me go on missions. Especially since I was a secret to the rest of the world. We both agreed that it would be dangerous for people to know that Iron Man had a daughter. Plus, we had no idea if HYDRA was looking for me or not. So when everyone was away on missions, I just sat at home and worked on a new suit designs, that Tony wouldn’t actually let me make, homework (which was all online, college courses because Tony wouldn’t let me actually go to school), and train. 

One day, Tony and the rest of the team arrived home from a mission while I was siting on the couch working on some suit designs for myself in the Avengers Tower. Over the past year, since SHIELD fell, the Avengers have been taking down HYDRA bases trying to take them down and find Loki’s scepter. I never knew when they would be back, missions ranged from hours to days, sometimes even weeks. I noticed that people in lab coats were setting up some equipment in Bruce Banner’s lab, but I didn’t question it. Tony and Bruce were always up to something. As the quinjet came in for landing, I jumped off the couch and ran to the hanger. I stood by Maria Hill and Dr. Helen Cho, who were already in the hanger waiting for it to land. 

“Miss Stark,” Maria greeted as I stopped at her side.

“Maria, how many times do I have to tell you that you don’t need to be formal with me just because you work for my Dad?”

She gave a small smirk, which was sweet for her, and then turned her head to the finally landed quinjet whose ramp was being lowered. I stayed at Maria’s side as Dr. Cho rushed to Clint’s, barking orders. He had an oxygen mask on and Natasha had a worried look etched onto her face. They hurried passed us, heading to Bruce’s lab. I walked next to Maria as she headed into the quinjet. Thor was on his way out, I smiled at him as we walked passed each other.

“How’d it go?” I asked him.

Thor opened the case he was holding, showing me Loki’s scepter. “As planned.” He smiled as closed the case back up. 

“I’m glad.” I smiled back at him before I continued my way onto the quinjet, a few steps behind Maria.

“Lab’s all set up boss,” she stated, talking to Tony.

Tony was sitting in the pilot’s seat. He put his hand up on a handle bar and began to turn his seat around. “Actually, he’s the boss.” Tony responded, pointing to Steve who was sitting on a step facing away from us. 

 “I just pay for everything and design everything and make everyone look cooler.” There was a sense of bitterness in the humor of his voice. I rolled my eyes.

“What’s the word on Strucker?” Steve asked. He quickly got up and walked towards Maria and I. 

Strucker. That name sent a chill down my spine. He was one of the HYDRA agents that had tortured and experimented on me. Hearing his name reminded me of when Tony found me. 

I was the only kid at that HYDRA facility. I was crying the corner of my cage. Yes, a cage. He was all suited up in his Iron Man armor, which scared me because I had no idea who he was. When I wasn’t in the lab being poked and studied on, I was locked in the cage. At the time, Tony was still publicly acting like a playboy, so he did this mission alone and in secret. He reached out for my hand and surged me to come to him. I didn’t budge. Tony, realizing that I was scared, took off his helmet. He set it down and kicked it away. I looked over my shoulder and saw his face. His eyes were faking happiness. I could tell he felt alone, worried, and sad. 

Tony looked me dead in the eye and softly said, “It’s okay. I’m here to save you. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

I just had a feeling after that that I could trust him. I reached out and grabbed his out reached hand. He pulled me towards him and held me close. He grabbed his helmet and that warned me to hang on tight. We flew off  to his Malibu mansion and straight to his workshop. I had a panic attack when we entered it and almost took him out while his was in the Iron Man suit. He quickly took it off and calmed me down. 

I shook my head, bringing myself out of the memory, trying to focus on the present. I looked at Steve and gave him a small smile and a little nod. But he was too focused on Maria to return the gesture. So I walked over to Tony who was pushing buttons, powering down the quinjet. 

“Glad to see you in one piece,” I joked, leaning against the opposite wall he was working on. “I was worried that they were setting up the lab for you.”

He gave a little smirk. “I would never let anything happen like that to me.” He replied. “I’m much more careful than Barton.” He took the few steps to me and kissed my forehead. “I have you to take care of… Speaking of which, what have you been up to kid?”

“Oh you know… the norm. Homework, training, doodling some suits designs that will never be…” I faded off.

He rolled his eyes. “We are not talking about this again.” He pointed a finger at me.

I put my hands up in surrender. “I’m not the one who said I was ready. I’ve passed every test Clint, Natasha, and Steve have given me. They were the ones who put the idea in my head, not me.” We made eye contact and I could tell something was off. He had seen something while on the mission, something that terrified him. He quickly looked away when he realized that I was reading him like a book. “Dad,” I gently said, “something happened out there, didn’t it?” I grabbed his hand. “I know you. Talk to me.”

“When did you get all grown up?” He avoided the question. 

“Dad.”

He squeezed my hand. “Maybe later.” 

 “We need to go see how Barton is doing and begin running tests on the scepter. I also need to change.” 

Tony threw an arm around my shoulders and I put one around his waist. We headed to the elevator and to his floor so that he could change before heading to the lab. Clint, Nat, Dr. Cho, and some others were in the glass room inside Bruce’s lab. We quickly checked in on Clint just for him to tell us that he was thirsty. Tony and I promised to return with drinks before leaving for the main portion of the lab. We ran into Bruce on the way out of the room where Barton was being treated.

“How’s he doing?” Bruce asked. 

“Unfortunately, he’s still Barton,” Tony answered. I rolled my eyes. 

“That’s terrible.” Bruce joked. 

“He’s fine. He’s thirsty,” I responded, walking over to the small kitchen off to the side of the lab. Once there, I began prepping smoothies for everyone. Bruce nodded and walked into the glass room.

“Alright,” Tony began. “Look alive, JARVIS. It’s playtime.” He headed over to the table where the scepter and its test readings were located. “We’ve only got a couple of days with this joystick, so let’s make the most of it. Update me on the structural and compositional analysis.”

“The scepter is alien,” JARVIS replied.

“Well no duh,” I mumbled, continuing the smoothies.

“There are elements I can’t quantify.” The AI continued. 

“So there’s elements you can?” Tony questioned.

“The jewel appears to be a protective housing for something inside. Something powerful.”

“Like a reactor?”

“Like a computer. I believe I’m deciphering code.”

“That’s interesting,” I commented. “So the scepter is a device of some sort?” The smoothie mix was done and I began pouring the green liquid into cups.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, Miss.” JARVIS answered me. 

“But she shouldn’t be worried about it,” Tony said, pointing a finger at me. “She should be worrying about homework.” He grabbed two trays for the smoothies.

“This is part of my homework,” I shrugged. “It’s science. Plus I know that you actually enjoy my help and know that my actual homework is too easy for me.”

Tony scoffed and shook his head as he set the cups on the trays. “I thought you were taking all college courses?”

“I am,” I grabbed a tray. “I guess of just a genius.” 

I winked at him as I headed towards the glass room that most of the others were in. Tony chuckled and followed closely behind. As we entered, Dr. Cho was explaining the technology that she was using to heal Clint.

“Oh, he’s flatlining,” Tony immediately teased, “Call it. Time?” I giggled, setting my tray down on a table next to Tony’s.

“No, no, no,” Clint said. “I’m going to live forever. I’m gonna be made of plastic.” 

“Here’s your beverage,” Tony whispered to Clint as he handed him a smoothie. 

“You’ll be made of you, Mr. Barton.” Dr. Cho informed. “Your own girlfriend won’t be able to tell the difference.” 

“Well, I don’t have a girlfriend,” Clint denied, sipping his smoothie. 

I looked at him, I didn’t want to call out the super spy, but I had a feeling he was lying. Especially with the way him and Natasha looked at each other. 

“That I can’t fix,” Dr. Cho replied. 

  “This is the next thing, Tony. Your clunky metal suits are going to be left in the dust.”

“Well,” Tony began, “That is exactly the plan. And Helen, I expect to see you at the party of Saturday.”

“Unlike you, I don’t have a lot of time for parties.” Helen Cho responded. I tried to hide my laughter, but it was a little too late. Tony quickly glared at me. He stopped when Helen hesitantly asked, “Will Thor be there?”

“Of course he will!” I cheerfully replied. “Everyone’s going to be there!”

“Everyone, except you,” Tony said pointing at me.

“What? I’m totally going. You’re hosting a party at my house and I’m not invited? That’s just rude.” I crossed my arms over my chest and pouted.

“If Bailey’s not going, then I’m not going,” Bruce commented.

“Thanks Bruce,” I smiled.

Tony took a deep breath, crossed his arms, and looked me in the eyes. “Fine. You can come as long as you don’t fall behind on your homework.”

“Yes!” I threw my fist in the air. “Thanks Dad!” I quickly ran out of the room. I was flying down the stairs, not watching where I was going, when I ran into Steve. “Oh! Sorry Steve!”

“It’s no big deal,” He said, moving around me. “What’s the rush Bailey?”

“Tony said that I could go to the party on Saturday if I don’t fall behind on my assignments,” I answered.

“I see.” Steve smiled.

“Yeah.” I kept heading down the stairs. “So I need to make sure I don’t.”

“Well, if you’re not too tired, will you save a dance for your best friend?”

“Of course!” I yelled as I continued to head to my floor.

When Tony first introduced me to the Avengers, I was so nervous. Especially around the men because of HYDRA. But Steve was so kind and tried really hard to make me feel comfortable. We became best friends almost instantly. Lately though, my feelings have been more than that. Why wouldn’t they be? He’s Captain America! But I can’t let my growing feelings ruin our friendship, plus Tony would never let us date. Let’s be honest thought, Tony’s never going to let me date. I don’t even have friends my age. Don’t get me wrong, I love that he cares but I wish he could worry less and let me live my life a little bit. Plus, Steve and I couldn’t date because of my age. I’m 17, not like it will matter in the long run though. Because of my healing abilities, I will age slowly. Bruce ran tests to confirm it when I first asked if it was a possibility a while back. He said that when I’m 100, I’d probably look nor more than 30. So, to me, age isn’t an issue when it comes to being with Steve. He’s already close to 100 anyway. Its Tony and the fact that our friendship could be ruined. And I really can’t lose that.

next >

[jokertrap-ran]

(未定事件簿) EVENT! 「消失的黄金」 [Tears of Themis] EVENT: The Lost Gold Translations (Mo Yi Chapter 2-02: Forest Camp)

“Who are you, to bring up ‘Professional Ethics’ with me? ”

*Tears of Themis Masterlist is under construction. *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *(y/n) is your name when in direct referral; otherwise referred to as MC. *Can someone shoot me to sleep bc its 6am rn

Location: Forest Camp

Just like Mo Yi had deduced, Wang Xian appeared shortly after we reached the Forest Camp.

Wang Xian: What a coincidence, Doctor Mo. We meet again.

Wang Xian: I had explicitly thought that the next time we saw each other again, ever since the exchange we had on the Ship, would be back in Stellis City.

Mo Yi: Looks like you really don't want to see me here, Doctor Wang.

Wang Xian: I came here for a holiday, so it feels a little off-putting to be bumping into my Psychiatrist, of all people.

Wang Xian: But I suppose this is fated, in a way. How about we share our Treasure Clues that we found on the way here?

He pretended to open his backpack, as if to take out the items he collected during the Event.

Mo Yi: You're actually playing the game seriously; that's beyond my expectation.

Mo Yi: But if that's the case, why aren't you working together with that assistant of yours?

Wang Xian: I'm his boss, so he should consider himself lucky that I even brought him here to Nosta Island for a Vacation; but to be together with him for the entire duration of the trip is a little…

Wang Xian: I'm afraid that would be alone to torture, for him.

Wang Xian: Besides, the Event Organizer did say that anything found will belong to the finder.

Mo Yi: Wang Xian, I am your Psychiatrist. Don't you think you're trying too hard to act generous and considerate in front of me?

Wang Xian: What are you trying to say, Dr. Mo?

Mo Yi: Have you forgotten about your nickname among the Prisoners, "Black-handed Wang"?

Wang Xian: Mo Yi, you—!

MC: "Black-handed Wang"? What does that mean?

Mo Yi: He's someone who often goes in and out of Prison. And he'll always help the Prisoners by bringing in some Contrabands, like Cigarettes, for example.

Mo Yi: The rate he asks from the Prisoners is oftentimes twice or thrice the time of the goods' original value. That's why he's known as "Black-handed Wang"

Mo Yi relentlessly exposed Wang Xian's own can of worms.

Judging from this, he had absolutely no intentions to play nice with Wang Xian right from the start.

Wang Xian: Dr. Mo, isn't this considered leaking your Patient's Privacy? What poor Professional Ethics you have.

Mo Yi: You're a Lawbreaker right now, not my Patient.

Mo Yi: Also, who are you, to bring up "Professional Ethics" with me?

Mo Yi: Why don't you first tell me what your assistant, pseudonym Cao Zhong, Real name Dong Hechuan, has gone off to do?

Wang Xian: Who's Dong Hechuan? ...I don't know him!

MC: You're only recently applied for Dong Hechuan's Commutation, and you say you don't know who he is?

Wang Xian's panic was blatantly obvious, now that Dong Hechuan's identity had been exposed.

Mo Yi: The reason why Dong Hechuan's commutation was approved was because he made important contributions to your Academic Papers, published in A-level journals.

Mo Yi: If you can even forget about someone like him, then I suggest you go to the Neurological Department and get that brain of yours checked.

Wang Xian: I really can't put anything past you, Dr. Mo.

Wang Xian: I'd heard before that you were regarded as a genius in the world of Psychology, but I didn't think that you'd be just as good at Criminal Investigations.

Wang Xian: Actually, I was coerced to both reduce his sentence and bring him to this Island.

MC: You were coerced?

MC: Then let's talk about how he coerced you.

≫Inquiry Start≪

⊳ Choice: Intimidation Grounds

MC: How did Wang Xian coerce you to reduce his sentence?

Wang Xian: With evidence that I was helping the Prisoners carry in Contrabands.

Wang Xian: Dong Hechuan has a record of Contraband Transactions.

Wang Xian: It contains a list of items I brought in for them along with the amount, date and time.

Wang Xian: He threatened me, saying that he'd hand these records over to the Prison's Administration if I refused to help him reduce his sentence.

Mo Yi: It's not like you've been helping the Prisoners for only a day or two. Dong Hechuan, capable of threatening you with just a single record? Whose leg are you trying to pull?

Wang Xian: The records include the testimony and signature of each relevant prisoner. Even I don't know how he got his hands on such a thing…

Wang Xian: But, if he really reports me, not only will my reputation be ruined, but I'll also have to go to Court for it.

⊳ Choice: Dong Hechuan's motive in coming here

MC: What is Dong Hechuan's purpose in coming here? Why is he participating in the Treasure Hunt?

Wang Xian: Since you know of Dong Hechuan, I suppose you're also aware of the Gold Robbery that happened ten years ago.

Wang Xian: He came here to look for the remaining gold from that year.

MC: He was given a lighter sentence at the time because he took the initiative to confess about the whereabouts of the gold.

MC: You could have always threatened him with the fact that he purposely concealed the true location of the gold, countering the upper hand he has against you.

MC: Why did you help him get onto this Island? Moreover, I'm guessing that you were the one who sabotaged the Terminals back in the Cruise Ship.

Wang Xian: I was the one who did it, but I…

Mo Yi: Not conventional for you to say? Then, allow me to speak for you.

Mo Yi: He promised to share the gold with you, am I right?

Mo Yi: You're already risking the hair on your eyebrows by carrying Cigarettes in for the Prisoners. So how, could you ever resist the temptation of gold?

Wang Xian: That's right. It was a moment's greed that had overtook me, but I didn't destroy the Terminals single-handedly.

MC: Did you do it with Dong Hechuan?

Wang Xian: He's not the only one involved. We did destroy the Terminals together, but when we went to the Monitoring Room go replace the Security Footage…

Wang Xian: We realized that the footage of our entry had already long since been replaced.

Wang Xian: Someone else had helped us cover up the destruction of the Terminals, but we don't know who.

MC: There's actually a third person involved?

Just who was able to silently sneak into the Surveillance Room and replace the footage?

Mo Yi: "We" don't know who the third person is? Ha ha, very funny.

⊳ Choice: Details of the deal

MC: You just said that you brought Dong Hechuan to this Island because of a moment's greed.

MC: But have you thought about how he's very likely to kill you once he finds the gold?

MC: Are you even sure that you'll still be alive to enjoy the wealth you gained?

Wang Xian: Of course I've also taken pre-measures against him.

Wang Xian: Dong Hechuan told me that the remaining gold left on Nosta Island weighs more than a hundred kilograms, and he, alone, can never take it out of here.

Wang Xian: His brothers-in-arms from back then are all dead, he has no other acquaintances and has absolutely no way to transport all that gold either.

Wang Xian: So, I arranged for an ocean-going fishing boat to pick us up on the other side of the Island. Everyone on that boat is loyal to me.

Wang Xian: I will be safe so long as I manage to get onto the boat. And I won't have to worry about him making off with the gold alone either.

Mo Yi: Oh? How interesting, indeed.

Mo Yi: All the people on that boat are your men; So, of course you're not afraid. But then, what about Dong Hechuan? Isn't he afraid?

Mo Yi: You have gold aplenty and people to spare. Isn't he afraid that you'll permanently silence him on the boat?

Wang Xian: Of course not.

Wang Xian: He said that the scheduled email he had set up beforehand would send the records he's holding against me to the Police Station, should he be unable to return back to Stellis City alive.

Wang Xian: Besides, I only want to get rich. I don't have the guts to be killing people.

Wang Xian: And Dong Hechuan doesn't have any other partners out there other than me, whom he trusts.

⊳ Choice: Acting separately

Mo Yi: If the both of you are here with the gold in mind, then why aren't you acting together?

Wang Xian: That had been the initial plan, but Dong Hechuan has an illness. Therefore, he had to leave first to get it treated.

MC: What illness?

Wang Xian: PTSD; Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Wang Xian: The gang of robbers had an internal fallout on this Island back then, and everyone except him had died.

Wang Xian: He has witnessed the deaths of too many of his brothers and now suffers from a serious Psychological Disorder.

Wang Xian: Dong Hechuan suffers from insomnia and has been plagued by nightmares for many years, always dreaming about the tragedy that befell on this very Island.

Wang Xian: Back on the Ship, he said that he'd be heading down to the part of the Island where his good brothers were killed first, once we landed on the Island.

Mo Yi: So he went to pay his respects to the dead. Then, where does this road you're walking lead to?

Wang Xian: He gave me the clues as to where to gold was buried and asked me to go on ahead and find it first.

MC: Clues? You mean, he doesn't know where the gold really is?

Otherwise, why wouldn't he tell Wang Xian the exact location of the gold?

Wang Xian: According to him, the biggest amount of gold had been hidden by the second boss of the gang back then.

Wang Xian: That person was very literary and artistically inclined. So, after burying the gold, he wove his clues about where it was buried, into a poetry.

Wang Xian: Therefore, no one except the second boss can find said gold, unless they solve the hidden riddle to his poetry.

⊳ Choice: Records of entering the Island

Mo Yi: Last question, Wang Xian. Is this your first time on Nosta Island?

Wang Xian: I…

He lowered his head, hesitating for a moment before letting out a long, drawn-out sigh.

Wang Xian: Mo Yi, you must have found my records of my entry and exit, if you're asking me such a question.

Wang Xian: You really do possess some remarkable abilities.

Wang Xian: I guess I can only come clean, now that you've already guessed it; there's no point in hiding it anymore.

Wang Xian: I've been here once, before. Only to make arrangements regarding the ocean-bound fishing boat.

Mo Yi: Is that so…

≫Inquiry End≪

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Wang Xian: I've already told you everything there is to be said, Dr. Mo. There's no competition or any bones to pick between us two, so just spare me.

Mo Yi: Spare you? Sure, I can do that; on one condition.

Wang Xian: What is it?

Mo Yi: Fork over the clue that leads to the gold.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Previous Part: (Mo Yi 2-01: Forest Zone) | Next Part: (Mo Yi 2-03: Deep within the Forest)

[sherlollydramoine]

Merry XXXMas

Warnings: 18+ only. Okay so this gets filthy, but there is also a little bit of fluff...Language, unprotected sex (as always-wrap it before you tap it).

This is unedited so therefore all mistakes are mine.

This is for the anon on @free-rami​‘s page that wanted some XXXMas fanfiction for Rami. Here ya go, whoever you are, I hope this satisfies!

Word Count: 5,272

You weren’t looking forward to spending any time with your family around the holidays, as you didn’t have a great relationship with your family. Your older sister and brother were both very successful at what they did. One was a doctor the other was a lawyer, you know those jobs that are the epitome of the American dream and the respectable jobs that everyone considered “important.” Every family holiday was always the same. Being lectured on how you were the least successful of all of your siblings because you were a hair and makeup artist. Your career wasn’t worthy of note because it didn’t always pay the best, and couldn’t garner you much accolades. That is how your family defined success. 

Or it was until you were fortunate enough to work on a few very high profile jobs and started winning awards for your work. It was on your second high profile job that you ended up meeting your boyfriend. 

Rami was incredibly successful in his field, having won a ton of awards for his work, and your father absolutely loved him. You had successfully avoided having to bring him home with you for family holidays until your mom put her foot down and insisted. You had compromised and both of you agreed to go to dinner at your parents house on Christmas Eve. 

You had your reservations because your sister was a huge fan, and even though she was married that wouldn’t stop her from trying to flirt with him, and you were so nervous about it. Annabeth is quite a force to be reckoned with and has always gotten what she wanted, that’s why she was so successful as an attorney.

You stared at yourself in the mirror as you were putting your earrings on. Anxieties running through your head, all the ‘what ifs’ and years of self-doubt.

“Hey babe, you almost ready?” Rami asked, with a soft smile on his face. You watch his eyes drink in your appearance as he put his hands on your hips to pull you close to him. He rests his head on your shoulder and tightened his grip on you. “I love you, you know that. If you are worried about your sister, don’t be. I only have eyes for you.”

“I know it’s just that-”

“Nonsense” he interrupted, placing a kiss to your temple. His hands at your waist 

“You are the best you know that? I love you so much. I wish we could just skip all the familial obligations we are burdened with today, and just stay here, preferably in bed while we worship each other.”

“Me too. But a promise is a promise. If we didn’t show something tells me that your mother would drive her ass all the way across town and drag us both out of bed.”

You couldn’t help the laughter that escaped you because it was true. If you didn’t show up today she would do exactly that. 

“Alright Rami, I’m done, how do I look?” you ask, as you do a small spin around the bathroom. 

“You look fucking fantastic. I can’t wait to see this dress on the floor later with you under me screaming my name.” he smirked, as he places a chaste kiss to your red tinted lips.

“We are such horn dogs. Animals. Isn’t that what Sami called us the last time he was here? In my defense I was also nearly a bottle of wine deep into the evening, and I have always had a hard time keeping my hands to myself around you. By the way you look ravishing yourself and you smell so good. I seriously want to say fuck it and stay here to fuck your brains out.” you said, as you turned your body to face him, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. Your hips pressing into his as you reach up to cup his face and capture his lips in a not so chaste kiss this time.

“Mmmmmm…” he hummed, clearly sharing in your line of thinking.

“Yes 'mmmmm’ is right babe. I want you so bad right now.” you whisper in his ear, your hands working their way down his body to cup him through the front of his dress pants.

He lets out a small whimper in response to your actions and his hips slightly buck into your hand and then he smirks devilishly against your mouth before his hand comes down on yours to gently remove your hand from his crotch.

“I know but we really should get going if we want to arrive close to the time we told your mom we would.” he replied, much to your chagrin. 

“Damn. I was hoping I could turn you on enough that you’d want to stay home.”

“Oh trust me baby, I’m really turned on right now, I’m hard as a rock, but a promise is a promise.” he winks as he had to adjust himself in his pants. 

“Ugh. You suck!” you stick your tongue out at him like a child.

He laughs,”Maybe, but you will definitely be sucking on something later.”

And God damn, if that statement didn’t make your panties nearly fly off your body.

The drive over to your parent’s house was bordering on torturous. He told you that you weren’t allowed to do anything about it, but his dirty talk in combination with the sexy natural huskiness of his voice was enough to nearly have you undone. 

“Can’t wait to see your beautiful eyes looking up at me as you suck my dick. Your lips stretched around me with your lipstick smeared all over your face and my cock. To watch your eyes nearly roll back in your head as I fuck you so hard you scream my name. And trust me, you will be screaming my name. I can’t wait to watch your body swallow my cock, to hear your moans filling the room, knowing that I’m the only one that ever gets to make you feel good.”

It took all the strength you had to not cum right there on the seats, your thighs rubbing together seeking some sort of friction.

“Fuck Rami, I’m soaked. We may have to go home just so I can change my outfit.” you whine, hoping that he’ll take the bait and turn the car around. 

“Nice try but it’s not happening.” 

You did the next best thing you could think of to try and incentivise him to turn around. You lift your hips and slide your panties down your legs, they were soaked, and when he stopped at a red light, you tossed them at him. You watch as they bounce of his gorgeous cheek and then land in his lap.

He raises a brow before he turned to you with a smirk,”You’ll pay for that.”

The wetness between your thighs just getting worse, and now you had no barrier to help hide the mess that you were making of yourself. 

“Gahhhh… I want you so fucking bad and you are...ugghhhh!! Why? Why are you so fucking stubborn?” 

His laughter loud as he reaches out to grab your hand. 

“You’ll get over it. A promise is a promise. What makes you think that I don’t want you just as bad right now anyway? I’m so turned on right now, and I really want nothing more than to pull over somewhere and fuck the shit out of you, but that is not in the cards for us at this moment in time. We have somewhere we absolutely need to be and we’re already late.”he informs you as his grip on your hand tightens. 

Less than fifteen minutes later you were pulling up outside your parent’s house and with a groan you force yourself out of the car. 

The inside of your parent’s house was a flurry of activity. Bodies moving in and out of the kitchen and a few kids running amuck in the house. Everyone in your family had already met Rami so there weren’t any awkward introductions that needed to be made. Offering to help your mom in the kitchen she gladly accepted. Rami tagged along just as eager to help even though your mom insisted that he go and hang out with guys.

You had no idea why Rami would offer to help in the kitchen but he follows orders well, so he was allowed to stay. All too quickly you ascertain exactly why he wanted to help so badly, and you kind of want to kill him for it, or at least fuck the shit out of him.

It starts casually as an ‘accidental’ touch here or there, a brush of your hands, but it escalates very quickly to full fledged groping whenever no one else was watching. The front of his body pressed against your back as he used the excuse that he needed to grab a dish out of the cupboard above your head. You seize the opportunity to grind your ass into his cock and he had to bite back a moan. 

His right hand ghosts its way down your body before settling on your hip where he firmly grips it and pulls you hard against him. The little shit has the audacity to begin to subtly thrust his hips against your ass, the reaction your body had to his almost caused you to drop the dish of mashed potatoes you were holding; biting your lip hard enough to nearly draw blood.

He leans down so that his mouth is about a centimeter from your ear, he whispers,”You are so sexy in that dress, I can’t wait to take it off of you in a few hours. I can’t wait to give it to you so good you won’t walk right tomorrow.”

You respond by turning your body around and capturing his lips in a searing kiss, your hips grinding into each others, soft moans leaving both of you, as your hands start roaming all over each other’s bodies. Both of you for a second completely forgetting where you are until you hear a voice that nearly makes your heart stop.

“God damn YN why the fuck would you do that in here?” you sister Annabeth complained.

“Fuck off Annabeth.” 

You pulled Rami closer as you bucked your hips into his, letting out a slightly over dramatic moan, as you continued to dry hump him against the kitchen counter. As it turns out, Rami is all for this game that is being played. Neither of you giving a fuck in this moment who sees what.

His lips find that sweet spot on your neck and you let out a whimper, as he sucks a mark into the tender flesh.

“YN, now everyone will know you are mine, just as I am yours.”

“God you two are fucking disgusting.” Annabeth complained again.

“And why are you still standing there? Doesn’t that make you feel like a perv for watching?” you pointed out. 

Just then your mom re-entered the kitchen and announced that it was time to serve dinner. The three of you were instructed to carry the various components of dinner to the formal dining room, which the three of you did without complaint.

Once everything was on the table and everyone had taken their seats at the table conversation quietly began before your dad had announced that he was going to say a prayer. Everyone held hands, except you and Rami because his left hand was resting on your thigh, his fingers ghosting upwards towards his target.

 His fingers find your core easily, and very quietly he says “fuck your soaked.” Slowly he inserts one then two fingers and starts to really move his hand. Your hips start to move against his hand and given how worked up you’ve been since you’d left home, you had to bite your tongue to stop the moan that threatened to leave your lips. His ministrations were so purposeful and skilled that it only took you a few minutes to feel your orgasm building to you nearly falling over the edge. You were so distracted enjoying the bliss you experiencing, trying not to make yourself obvious,you were unable to hear your father finish up the prayer.

Rami playful nudged you and realized why so you open your mouth, “Ahhh.. ahhh.. Amen.” you half moan, half stutter out.

His fingers still working you so deliciously, your body moments away from orgasm, you lean over and nip his ear before whispering,”Sinner.” His lips boldly find yours in the nick of time because he was able to swallow your quiet cries of pleasure and no one in your family was any wiser, except maybe your sister who looked as if she’d swallowed something bitter.

As dinner progressed and most of the adults were two or three glasses of wine deep, conversations became more interesting. Your sister was trying to engage Rami in conversation and trying not to get irritated with her attempts to flirt, while her husband sat oblivious next to her. He always has this amazing ability to handle everything with such grace, that he is easily able to deflect. Your stomach was full, your body warm with happiness and alcohol, and you start to watch Rami’s mouth when he speaks.

Your body already warm started to heat up, and you had started to rub your thighs together, when a thought popped into your head. He had you undone earlier, maybe it was your turn to repay the favor. 

You scoot your chair closer to Rami’s and you rest your head on his shoulder, his arm automatically snaking its way around you. Your man is so beautiful that you can’t take your eyes off of him. The way his jaw and mouth move when he speaks, his ocean colored eyes bright, and his smile. God you wanted him so bad and when he looked down at you, he could clearly see the mischief in your eyes. You attempt to move your body closer to his, and he allows it, as you try to melt into him. 

Trying to be subtle, you start moving the hand closest to his body along his thigh, just feather light touches over the fabric of his dress pants. His conversation never stops as a few of your cousins had some questions for Rami. They were always the same kind of questions he usually gets but he never failed to give them a great answer. He shifts his hips under your hand, as you actually start to massage him through his pants, relishing in the way his body is so reactive to your touch. You just smile up at him, trying to look innocent as you hand finds its way to his belt. Your fingers begin the process of undoing his belt and opening his dress pants, as you slide your warm hand into his pants. He had to bite his lip to stop himself from making any noise as you grip him, sliding your thumb across his slit and coating his cock with his pre-cum, as you slowly move your hand up and down his cock. His hips shift again, as you work him, while wearing a smirk, hoping that he could maintain his conversations. 

His grip on your waist tightens as he fights to keep from making any noise, with your family still milling about, you were working him hard and fast, hoping to make this quick when your mom walks in and announces that it was time for presents.

Both of you let out a frustrated groan, as your eyes meet his. All you could do was shrug as you kept working him, “We’ll be there in a minute mom. Go ahead and start without us.”

Never once stopping what you were doing, your family files out of the formal dining room and gathers in the large living room. Feeling bold since everyone had left the room, you waste no time pulling him completely out of his pants, and begin to really work him. Not wanting to have to clean up the mess you slide out of your chair and onto your knees in front of him. 

He lets out a little gasp of shock as he sits back and watches you work. 

Taking him into your mouth, working him with your tongue as your hands begin to massage his balls. Looking up at him through your lashes you observe him biting his lip, forehead covered in a light layer of sweat, his eyes screwed shut, one of his hands ends fisting itself in your hair as his hips began to buck up, pushing himself further into your mouth. 

“Yessss baby… yess.. M’so close… yess.. Oh god baby your mouth… fuck... im gonna…..“ he cries out, just as you feel his hot cum down the back of your throat. 

Allowing him a few to come back down from his temporary high, you just sit on your knees between his legs, on the hardwood floor of your parent’s formal dining room.

His grip on your hair loosens and you casually stand up smoothing your dress over your hips. You lean forward and capture his lips for a sweet kiss. His hands reaching out for you before he pulls into his lap

“YN, I love you so much. That was hot, and thank you.” he says, his forehead pressed to yours. You wrap your arms around his neck as you just stare into each other's eyes for a few minutes, until your sister Annabeth decides to come barging in and yelling at you to hurry the fuck up.

Annabeth stops in her tracks and just looks shocked before her face screws up into disgust. “Seriously YN?! I can’t believe you, I expected better -”

“You know what Anna-Just shut the fuck up! Just stop! I’ve had enough of your fucking mouth. Just because you are bored with your life, because you did what our parents wanted you to do and didn’t follow your passions, you can stop being a fucking cunt to me. You are one of the main reasons I never come visit. You are just jealous because I followed my dreams, ended winning awards for my talents, and landed my dream man; you are stuck in a loveless, sexless marriage and working a job you have no passion for. For the love of God, just leave me alone. I don’t need your commentary on everything I choose to do in my life. So what, I got horny, and I just sucked my boyfriend off under the dinner table after Christmas dinner, how does my decision directly affect or hurt you?” you spat, trying to keep your voice low. You didn’t want to draw the rest of your family to the dining room.

Anna just looked shocked as she spun on her heel and rushed out of the dining room.

Rami still sitting in his chair with you in his lap, just wrapped his arms around your briefly and murmured how proud he was of you in your ear, the fingers of his left hand coming up to card through your hair, and his right hand resting on your back holding you close. He knew that your sister was always the most critical of you and you had shared with him that you suspected it was just because she was jealous. 

Your mom entered the dining room again and stood observing the two of you. A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth before she quietly said, “Look I know you two are very much in love and it is really hard to keep your hands to yourselves, but if you could please get yourselves put back together and join the rest of us for presents. The littles are mostly done opening all their stuff and we’d love for all of the adults to be actually in the room for the gift exchanging.”

As soon as your mom walks away both of you descended into a fit of giggles. You climbing off his lap as he tucked himself back into his pants. You leaning in to help him refasten his pants and belt. Both of you peppering each others faces with small kisses. 

“God baby I want to just say ‘fuck it’ and fuck you right  on your parent’s dining room table.”

“Yessssss…. God I want you to so badly, but you heard my mom. She WILL come back here every three minutes until we join them.”

Once you were both satisfied that you both had readjusted, retucked, and smoothed yourselves out you made one last stop to take a look in the mirror in the dining room for a final check.

“Oh my God Rami my lipstick!”

He just laughs out loud and grabs a napkin from the pile that had been left on the buffet. He gently wipes the smeared lipstick off and even though it may have made the rest of your makeup a little splotchy you didn’t care. 

“Don’t worry about reapplying it right now love. Let’s just get out there.” Rami says with a smile, as he grabs a hold of your hand, giving it a firm squeeze.

Finding that there was only one spot left to sit you told Rami to sit on the couch, while you sat just below him between his legs. Your dad acting as ‘Santa’ and handing out everyone’s gifts while the children ran around playing with their new toys.

After all the gifts have been opened and everyone’s stuff was neatly stacked in piles by the front door, everyone headed back into the formal dining room for dessert. Of course your mom had gone all out, you felt it was partially to impress Rami at his first family Christmas with you; she’d made eight different kinds of pies, two traditional Christmas desserts, cake with ice cream, and a giant bowl of homemade whipped cream.

“Mom that’s enough to feed four times as many people as we have here right now.” you point out.

She shrugs and just smiles, “More for you kiddies to take home and enjoy later.”

You took over for your mom trying to give her a break, serving everyone up their chosen desserts before choosing your own and taking your seat next to Rami. The wine everyone had consumed earlier was really showing now. People’s bodies were much more relaxed, and conversation flowed much easier than it had earlier. Rami had his chair pulled close to the table deeply engrossed in a conversation with your brother, between bites of his dessert. Your chair was angled toward his with your feet currently resting in his lap, as you leaned back barely touching your dessert.

You were resting your head against the back of your chair just watching Rami talk. He’s so animated, especially when he’s really passionate about something, his body really comes alive while he speaks. His hands gesturing wildly as he continues on about whatever, before you feel his left hand come to rest on your calf. 

His fingers lazily drawing little patterns on your skin, which instantly causes your body to shudder, your flesh now covered in goosebumps. His conversation showing no signs of slowing but he does turn his head towards you give you a smile. That smile, the smile, as his fingers continue moving against your skin. You pull your leg away from his body, and he shoots you a look of confusion, before he realizes what you are doing. 

Standing up, you set your dessert plate on the table, and slide your chair across the floor closer to his, your chair still angling towards him. You drape your right leg over his lap this position leaving your body very open to whatever he has planned.

His fingers resume their little dance across your leg, as they slowly make their way up to the apex of your thighs. As soon as they’ve reached their intended destination he wastes no time, his fingers finding your clit, and with a flick you let out a little squeak and nearly fall out of your chair. 

He shoots you a look of mock concern, as he continues moving his fingers. He only stops to pull his fingers away from your clit for just a quick second so that he could adjust his position in his chair, as a couple of his fingers slide their way into your slick folds, his thumb finding your clit again. 

You were biting your lip to keep from letting out a loud moan, as he continues pumping his fingers in and out of you, before he curled his fingers into a 'come hither motion inside of you. Hitting your g spot and instantly sent you over the edge. As you open your mouth to let out a scream, he shoves a forkful of his pie into your mouth. Staring at him in wide eyed shock, you end up moaning around the pie in your mouth, as you clench around his fingers, your orgasm a small but powerful one.

A few members of your family look at your a bit curiously before the little shit opens his mouth instead,”She really likes pie. I can’t say I blame her, it’s really delicious.”

You watch him as he leans forward and licks the corner of your mouth, before he brings his fingers to his lips and sucks his fingers clean.

“Jeez YN, you really are a messy eater, aren't you?” he grins.

“The messiest baby, the messiest.” 

You lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder as he leans down to whisper in your ear again. 

“Wanna get out of here? I can’t wait to get you home and finally out of that dress. I want my cock buried in you within the next hour or I might combust.”

You slowly nod your head as stand up to prepare to start saying your goodbyes to your family. Your dad helping you to carry some leftovers and your gifts out to the car. A few more hugs and kisses later, you two were finally in the car headed home.

“God Rami, I want you so bad. This has been a long afternoon and evening- I just want you to fuck me so bad. I’m feeling insatiable, a little slut just for you.”

His laughter loud in the car as he beams at you.

“I’m feeling the same way my love, trust me though. I’m going to give it to you so good when we get home. Oh, your panties in my pocket, they still aren’t dry.”

Your mouth almost hits the floor as you had completely forgotten about your panties, or rather lack of.

Holiday traffic was surprisingly light and you made it home in record time. That could have been because Rami was driving well over the speed limit and he may have run a red light or two in his own eagerness to get you home so that he can ravish you the way he was absolutely dying to.

He was insistent that at least you bring the food that your mom had sent home with you into the house before you took off towards the bedroom. Since he’s the one that had the food you beat him there, and was in the process of trying to pull your dress off when you felt him come up behind you.

His hands grasped your zipper and slowly lowered it, sliding the straps of your dress off your shoulders, silently watching your dress pool at your feet. Stepping out of your shoes you turn your body to face him. 

“So beautiful,” he murmured, his hands coming up to cup your face. Your lips meet and the kiss started softly but quickly turned into a deep passionate one, his fingers in your hair. Your body always responsive to his, your hands on his hips pulling him closer to you. Feeling his erection straining against his pants, you find your fingers fumbling to undo his belt in your haste to have him fuck you as he had promised earlier in the afternoon. 

He pulls your hands away and sheds his clothing at lightning speed, his cock bouncing as it was finally freed for only the second time today from the constraints of his pants. 

The hungry look on his face had your pussy quivering with excitement as his hands shove you hard causing you to stumble and land on your back on your mattress. You two had had enough teasing today and you were both eager to just finally be able to join as one. 

His body slinking up yours between your open legs, he takes himself in his hand as guides himself to your entrance. Letting out your first unrestrained moan of the day as he slides himself into you until he is bottomed out. He looks down and watches himself disappear into you, before he pulls back and almost completely out of you, then slides himself back into you. His breathy moan was so hot that you involuntarily clenched around him and he hissed. 

“Keep that up baby and I won’t last more than five seconds.”

“God Rami, fucking move. I can’t take this anymore, I just want you to fuck me. Make me scream like you promised.”

He says nothing but he slams himself into you hard and you did scream. His hips slamming into yours hitting your G spot every time, and with each thrust of his hips you claw at the sheets. Rami’s large hands find their way to your hips, his grip bruising as fucks into you at a brutal pace.

Your breath coming in short ragged pants, as you bring your hands up to his neck trying to hold on as he fucks you hard. Your legs acting on their accord have wrapped themselves around his waist, which subtly changed the angle, and you can feel yourself already rushing towards an orgasm.

Incoherent ramblings spilling from your lips as he continues to fuck you, your head thrown back, fingers clawing at his shoulders when you feel that pleasure starting in the pit of your stomach. 

“Ohhhhhh fuckkkkkkkk…..yesssssssss…. Godddddddd yessssss…. Ramiiiiiiii...  I’m gonna… oh fuck… RAMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII” you scream as your walls clench and unclench around his cock. 

Screaming his name out, you feel his hips begin to slow as he follows you into O-Town, your name being the only thing leaving his lips, as his eyes were screwed tightly shut. You can feel his warm essence spill into you, his hips still moving as he rides out his orgasm.

You both collapse back onto the bed, chests heaving, tightly wrapped in each others arms. Your right hand coming up to card your fingers through his sweat soaked hair, as your lips find his for a soft kiss, with you both pressed forehead to forehead. 

“God baby I love you so much.” 

“I love you too.” was his response. 

“Merry Christmas my love. I hope you had a great day today, because I know I did.” you smile softly at him your face now buried in his chest, as his fingers run down your back lazily drawing little patterns over your sweaty skin.

“Me too. We still have to go spend Christmas with my family tomorrow though. Are you prepared for that?” he asks, voice tinged with amusement. 

“Well if it is anything like today, I’m sure I’ll be just fine.” you half heartedly laugh out. 

“I’m sure arrangements can be made, though I’m not sure my brother would appreciate it.”

 @mrhoemazzello​ @xmxisxforxmaybe​ @itsme690​ @txmel​ @theultraviolencefan​ @ramimedley​ @r-ahh-mi​ @doing-all-write​ @mezzomercury​

[castielslostwings]

All I Want For Christmas (Are Earplugs)

Ficlet: 3k of fluffy, explicit (at the end) Christmas-y DeanCas. 

The challenge: "Write something about Cas being stuck in the gas n sip where "All I Want For Christmas is You" plays on an endless loop for 3 months until he's nearly homicidal 😂 ...and then dean shows up and they bang in the storeroom while it's playing and the song is still awful and plays every 45 minutes but at least Cas has a positive memory to associate with it now!"

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21656614

Or check out this excerpt (cut because Tumblr will eat my smut):

Corporate doesn’t even hold off until Thanksgiving is over to move onto Christmas, not anymore. In the age of instant gratification and having everything a person could possibly want only a finger swipe away, waiting until after Thanksgiving to break out the Christmas theming would render it all relatively pointless. Thus, the day after Halloween, that’s when it starts these days. Castiel doesn’t get it, not really, especially considering the Gas’n’Sip is, well, a gas station. No one is looking to their shelves for holiday sales and the opportunity to grab this season’s hottest items before they sell out. Not unless one considers snack cakes and travel-sized tubes of toothpaste to be the perfect holiday gifts. Not that Castiel’s judging.

It’s just that those realities make the auditory horror Castiel’s subjected to for nearly three months straight all the more baffling. Why he has to suffer so the Gas’n’Sip can claw uselessly at retail relevance is beyond his understanding. It’s not as if they’re succeeding. That little “Last Minute Gifts!” display doesn’t get any sort of play at all until the twenty-third, and even then people have to grimace their way through choosing between cheap shower product sets and crappy mugs with teddy bears holding chocolates stuffed inside them. By November first, Castiel’s already practicing the most tactful ways to interrupt those poor procrastinating saps and suggest simply buying lottery scratch-off tickets.

The thing is, the decorations aren’t so bad. A little tinsel here, a few red glittery signs there, couple of candy-filled endcaps with Santa theming, whatever. Even the little Christmas tree that sits next to the register and Castiel can’t stop knocking into with his elbow every time he goes to make change is more festive than frustrating. None of those things are particularly bothersome at all. In fact, Castiel barely even notices them (aside from diving to catch the tree and keep it from crashing to the ground every ten minutes). And the twinkling, color-changing string lights that Castiel spent the better part of a day stapling around the top of the store, along the windows, and over the register are actually fairly enjoyable to look at. So much so that he strung a set around the shelves of the storeroom for when he’s stuck back there organizing or doing inventory. Very cheery.

But the songs. The songs are the worst. Well, no, that’s not exactly it either. The holiday songs on the corporate-provided CD that loops endlessly on a forty-five minute spiral in the background definitely still play in Castiel’s head long after he’s dumped the coffee, turned out the lights, and locked the gas station doors. They infiltrate his quiet moments in the evening after he’s returned home, dance across his mind obnoxiously when he should be enjoying his free time away. It’s only the beginning of December and already Castiel’s starting to lose his mind. Last night, full of a spectacular dinner and tucked warm and snug in bed with Dean squirming underneath him, Castiel was screwed out of an actual orgasm by the painfully catchy crooning of Mariah Carey relentlessly belting out those high notes in his head.

Because really, at the end of the day, it’s not all the holiday songs, it’s that holiday song. The bane of retail workers everywhere, Castiel’s sure of it, “All I Want For Christmas Is You” is single-handedly making his holiday season as un-merry as it could possibly get. A grating earworm that’s starting to feel more “nails on a chalkboard” than singing at all, Castiel’s forced to enjoy it on a repeat cycle every forty-two-point-five minutes of every single workday. And now, it’s messing with his off-time, his intimate evenings with Dean, those relax and reset moments that Castiel counts on to get him through the next day and the one after that. Retail is hard enough on a regular old Tuesday, never mind during the holiday season when everyone’s so desperate to squeeze in as much merriment as possible that they’re willing to steamroll right over people like Castiel to do it.

Most of the time, Castiel doesn’t mind being a faceless cog in the machine, hell, he enjoys it some days. There’s a quiet dignity in his job, in providing food and fuel for weary travelers just trying to get from Point A to Point B. Keeping the coffee pot full, the hot dogs warm, the cigarette cartons stacked. Perhaps other people might look down on him for being satisfied with that type of work, that type of life, but Castiel has no interest in what other people think of him. Well, anyone besides Dean, of course. And Dean loves him, is proud of him, and that’s more than enough to make his days, every single one of them, merry and bright.

So it would be Castiel’s preference that he subsists through the rest of the Christmas season without murdering the one man who makes his existence tolerable, and that fucking song is beginning to threaten that theoretically simple wish.

Today, for instance, it’s four in the afternoon and Castiel is working a double. Which means that since the Gas’n’Sip opened its doors at six AM, Mariah Carey’s syrupy-sweet caroling has set his teeth on edge going on fourteen times. Fourteen. Chinese water torture would be kinder. Two hours and two more rounds of the nightmare in G Major later, Castiel texts Nora, his manager, and begs her to let him change the music. “ Just for the today, just for the rest of my shift”, he pleads, even going so far as to say he’ll tune the radio to their local Christmas music station.

Nora sends back, “ LOL, Castiel you’re so funny”, and Castiel dies a little bit inside. Business is slow and the lackluster trickle of customers comes to a stop completely around ten PM, leaving an entire hour for Castiel to count down the minutes to the next time that awful song is going to play without any kind of distraction. When the bells tied to the doors finally jingle signaling a customer around ten forty-five, relief doesn’t even come close to what Castiel feels. That doubles when the face that appears across his countertop is Dean’s.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel says warmly, and he’s not exaggerating when he thinks he may never have been happier to see the man. Although, it’s never unpleasant to see Dean.

“I'll have some beef jerky and a pack of menthols,” Dean replies cheekily, leaning across the counter for a kiss which Castiel gladly provides. Not the menthols, though.

“Funny,” he murmurs and then sighs heavily. “Dean, I’m going to lose my mind if I have to put up with this—” Castiel jams his finger in the direction of the ceiling speaker above his head, “ Horror show for another three weeks.”

Dean looks up from where he’s fingering the different flavors of Bubble Yum and slides a pack across the smooth surface, reaching for his wallet to pay. Castiel waves him off, grabs a couple of singles from his own pocket and runs the transaction absently. “It can’t be that bad,” Dean says and Castiel’s fingers halt mid-button-push.

“My ears feel like they’re bleeding, Dean,” he protests with a glare. “Every forty-two-point-five minutes exactly it comes on and I’m in hell.” Clocking Dean’s badly-suppressed smirk, Castiel works his jaw and folds his arms across his chest. “Perhaps I’ll call Bobby and offer him a free month of advertising in the Gas’n’Sip window. All he’ll have to do is play a particular CD on repeat in the auto-repair bay from tomorrow until Christmas.” Satisfied with the way Dean’s face pales and the smirk disappears, Castiel feels absolutely no need to remind him that approving free advertising isn’t remotely in his job description. Honestly, if Dean can’t figure that out from the knowledge that he isn’t so much as allowed to change the store’s chosen music, that’s on him.

“Don’t mess with my classic rock, Cas,” Dean warns him. “Some shit is sacred, you know.” Annoyed again, Castiel raises his hands and gestures around him emphatically. “Alright, alright,” Dean relents. “I see your point, it sucks.” Sucking his lip distractedly in between his teeth, Dean glances around the store. “So, where are your security cameras at?”

Rolling his eyes, Castiel points to several different corners and just above his head behind the register. “There, there, there, and there. Don’t you think if I could have moved them, I would have? Changing their direction sends a notification straight to Nora’s phone.”

“That’s not what I—what about the storeroom? There any cameras there?”

Castiel narrows his eyes and regards Dean curiously. “No… There was one, but it broke weeks ago and Corporate hasn’t yet responded to Nora’s service request.” With a mild hum and another glance around that includes a sweep of the deserted parking lot outside, Dean wanders over to the doors and locks them. “Dean?” Castiel doesn’t protest, just watches as Dean flips the sign that says, “Back in 5 minutes!” Castiel rarely uses it himself, but every so often nature calls and the store has to be locked in the meantime. It’s interesting that Dean remembers that.

“C’mon,” is all Dean says on his pass back through the store, reaching out to grab Castiel’s arm and tug him out from his little alcove and across the floor to the storeroom.

“Dean, what—”

“How long until that song plays again?” Dean asks as he pulls Castiel inside and shuts the door behind them.

Checking his watch, Castiel does some quick mental math as well as cocks his head to listen for whatever song is playing now. “It’s next,” he groans, but Dean just grins.

“Awesome timing,” he replies, grabbing Castiel’s waist and manhandling him around until his back is up against some stable-looking shelving. “We’re gonna play a game, alright?” Dean’s bright green eyes are sparkling and shining and Castiel definitely knows that face. He also knows he should stop him, should tell Dean no to whatever mischievous thing he’s plotting, but it is only minutes to closing time and hell, Castiel’s day has been pure, undiluted shit.

“What sort of game?” Castiel asks, unable to keep the note of amusement out of his voice as he watches Dean’s eyes dart down to his own lips. Without answering, Dean leans in, kisses Castiel’s bottom lip and then his top, pulls back just far enough to look down and slot their groins together in a way that won’t have anyone’s belts causing unwanted, painful havoc. Then he’s back, tongue poking at the seam of Castiel’s mouth, and despite everything, Castiel recognizes that this is Dean asking for permission. If he really doesn’t want to do this, in his store or at all, he need only close his mouth.

As much as he appreciates the asking, though, Castiel knew what he was getting into when he stepped inside the storeroom. Dean has a bit of an exhibitionist side, and this isn’t their first rodeo in a semi-public space. Though the likelihood of being walked in on is extremely low, there’s still a bit of a thrill Castiel gets over doing something naughty, and maybe he’s more into it than he lets on. The whole concept has him hardening up nicely and Dean’s grinding isn’t hurting either, but just as they’re setting a pretty nice pace, the first notes of The Song come on.

Growling into Dean’s mouth, Castiel reluctantly pushes him back. “I can’t,” he says, frustrated. “I don’t want to associate having sex with you with this demonic lullaby.”

Read the rest on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21656614

[seriously-siri]

Epiphany

Happy holidays @fontasticcrablettes ! I am your @talessecretsanta2019. I know it’s cutting a bit close, but my very existence doesn’t know how to do anything easily so this is only the first part! Part 2 to come in a couple of days!

Also readable on my AO3 here.

-----------

Yuri wasn’t going to do anything special for the new year’s celebration. He wasn’t going to go out of his way to go to a party in Dahngrest since he didn’t really know too many people outside of his guild and didn’t really care to get to know them at the crazy shindigs that were sure to be happening. On a mission? Sure. At a guild meeting? Made sense. Five kegs into what Yuri would bet a crazy amount of money is the best alcohol the local taverns have in their basement? No thanks.

Brave Vesperia decided it was better to save funds rather than throw their own party since their space still needed some, or a lot, of work done. Really Karol decided that which was fine because he had been invited to the Hunting Blade’s party and Raven apparently had other plans (and Yuri wasn’t going to touch that with a ten foot pole). Judy was on a job with a couple of their newest recruits which left him and Repede to do their own thing.

A year was a year and while this past one has been very different from what Yuri expected on the daily, he’d rather get past the whole world almost ending thing and just start a new one. Because no matter how hard he tried, Yuri always found himself reflecting on the last day of the year, which is sort of the point, but it always put him in a bad mood. He’ll take the quiet of the guild for a night, maybe watch some fireworks, and then start from day one and enjoy what he gained over the past year instead of think about the intricacies of how he gained it.

So no, he wasn’t going to do anything special for the new year.

Until a scroll came addressed to him, rolled up on thick parchment with the seal of the empire stamped in gold wax. Yuri was dubious at first, since Estelle was the only one that sent him mail regularly and it was usually a normal, square letter on normal paper. Flynn would always tossed in a letter to him whenever she wrote so it wouldn’t be from him. Besides Flynn wouldn’t waste the money on the fancy paper if it wasn’t for official business. It turned out to be just that. It was an invitation to the castle to celebrate a new year and a new relationship between the Empire and the Guilds and was even signed by Yoder and Flynn. Nice gesture, but not really Yuri’s thing… which was clearly what Flynn expected because a smaller parchment fell to the floor that had one simple word on it written in familiar script.

Please?

Leave it to Estelle to at least ask nicely.

Also, leave it to Flynn for knowing exactly how to get him to agree to something so excruciatingly awkward. Because it was definitely Flynn and not Estelle who also knows that slipping that note in the official letter would work, but would never dream of being that evil.

Not only is the entire shindig at the castle going to be literal torture, but the trip from the get go has been miserable. It is cold and not the usual winter cold, but cold cold, colder than Hypionia cold and Yuri vaguely regrets leaving the scarf Estelle knit him a couple month ago at the guild. So after a quick stop in Halure to pick up a hat for himself and a small blanket for Repede, Yuri finds himself plotting all the ways he’s going to pay Flynn back for this complete betrayal of their friendship.

“What do you think Repede,” Yuri glances down briefly as Repede lets out a yawn. “Should we pretend we got lost and just crash old Hanks’ party?”

Bark!

“Yeah, I think Flynn would have me arrested if I no showed.”

Bark!

“No kidding. I guess I shouldn’t let these fancy clothes go to waste, I spent way too much on them.” Yuri shifts his pack on his shoulder and eyes Repede who is definitely smirking at him. “Hey, don’t think you’re getting off easy! I got you a fancy collar to match.” And if Repede’s grumble isn’t enough to show his displeasure, his glare is scarier than any a human has ever given Yuri. “You heard me. Estelle is going to absolutely love it and we are never going to hear the end of it.”

Bark bark!

Yuri shrugs. “If I have to suffer so do you.” Dipping down he gives Repede a quick ruffle between the ears and pet down the back, “Well at least it’ll be warm in the castle and hey, maybe if we get there before lunch we can make Flynn buy us something to eat. The food at the gala tomorrow probably won’t be even remotely edib-” but there’s a tenseness in Repede that forces Yuri to pause. It’s not the cold that is causing a barely noticeable tremble down the dog’s spine. “What’s up buddy?”

The only answer Yuri gets is the smallest twitch of Repede’s ears and he doesn’t need to think twice before dropping his bag to the ground and tossing his sword sheath aside. He sets his stance just a little wider as Repede moves to cover behind him with a low growl. “Who’s there?”

Estelle came to Flynn’s office looking for a quiet place to read, at least, that is what she told him.

It made sense; the castle is basically chaos incarnate with preparations for the celebration that evening. The halls were packed with staff putting up decorations or running back and forth on various errands. If the number of times he’d been interrupted from his work that morning is any indication of how many times Estelle probably got bombarded with questions, he was happy to let her plop down in a chair in the quiet for a little.

And it had been quiet, very quiet. When Flynn realized he hadn’t heard a page turn in Estelle’s book for awhile he caught her staring wide eyed out the window at the lightly falling snow. Eventually the book made its way onto a table and the chair was left empty while pink began shuffling around the room. First Estelle browsed over the books on the book shelf, something Flynn found a little funny since she’s already read them all at least twice. Then pink made its way to the window to watch the snow for a little and then back to the book shelf…

She hasn’t stopped since.

It’s not that Flynn cares much for the gaudy carpet that blankets the middle of his office floor, but if Estelle doesn’t stop pacing it’s going to need to be replaced sooner rather than later.

Flynn, paperwork long forgotten, sets the pen he is idling flipping between his fingers down and leans back in his seat at an angle he knows will make a loud enough creak to catch the princess’ attention. “Lady Estellise-“

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?!” Estelle snaps with a small muffle stomp of her heel and she turns to him, fists clenched at her sides. Then fingers uncurl and immediately cover a small gasp. “I’m so sorry Flynn. That was uncalled for.”

Flynn flinches. He knows she doesn’t mean to snap at him, she’s stressed and worried and he can’t entirely blame her. Flynn’s been half expecting a fist to come around the corner of a hall or doorway all morning followed by a promise for further retribution for making Yuri put on an ironed shirt. The other half of him was trying to scream at him that something wasn’t right.

Yuri was due in town yesterday and had yet to make his grand appearance or, at the very least, begrudging appearance. While Yuri isn’t the most punctual person Flynn knows, he also isn’t someone who shows up offensively late.

“It’s fine, Estelle.” The way she scrunches up her face means she doesn’t believe him, but Flynn waves it off with his hand as he stands up and makes his way to the front of his desk. “Yuri probably just got distracted with some monsters. You know how he is, any chance to get a couple flips in and he doesn’t have a care in the world.”

“Oh, like you’re any different.” Estelle tries to tease, but it falls flat as she glances to the window again. “I just have this feeling Flynn. Something is wrong and I know that doesn’t make any sense, but we need to go-”

The knock on the door causes them to both jump and Estelle visibly pales as Flynn whirls around a little quicker than usual.  He doesn’t so much run across his office as he does throw himself at the door to fling it open.

“Commander?”

Sodia. Flynn has to close his eyes for a moment to keep his disappointment from showing. He was sort of hoping for a fist to the face. Okay, he was really hoping for a fist to the face or a snarky comment or anything that meant the sickening knot in Flynn’s stomach was unmerited.

Stepping back Flynn nods. “Come in, Lieutenant.”

“Sir, I need-“ Sodia pokes her head around the door and suddenly rushes in, nearly tripping on a sloppy bow as she spots Estelle. “I’m sorry your highness, I didn’t realize you were here.”

“It’s okay.” Turning to pick up her book Estelle glances at Flynn and raises an eyebrow before heading to the door. “I will see you at the celebration later.”

Flynn nods and watches her leave before turning back to Soda. He needed to make this quick because that look he just got meant he didn’t have a lot of time before he will need to catch up to Estelle once she leaves the castle. “Is there something you need?”

Sodia, however, is staring at the still open door. “Um, is everything okay, Sir?”

Sighing Flynn crosses his arms and pinches the bridge of his nose. “She’s worried that Yuri hasn’t arrived yet and honestly? I am too. The weather looks like it’s getting pretty bad out there and it’s not like Yuri to be this late.”

“Well didn’t you say that Yuri probably wouldn’t want to come to the celebration?” Sodia frowns at him. “Maybe he decided to stay in Danhgrest with the rest of his vigilante friends.”

“Careful, Lieutenant.”

“Sorry, Sir.”

You don’t sound sorry. Flynn isn’t sure what he expects, but the obvious venom in Sodia’s voice is a bit unnerving. He knows she’s not the biggest fan of Yuri and he’s tried his best to understand her reasoning. A lot of it make sense; Flynn does have a soft spot for Yuri and when it comes to his best friend, he does tend to act a bit out of character, but he doesn’t know how to explain to her that that is never going to change.

Flynn sighs and straightens up a bit, “Now, what is it that you need.”

“The morning perimeter patrol unit in the south missed their latest check in.”

Oh good. “Was it a unit that was patrolling outside the city?”

Sodia nods. “Ever since we lost the barrier blastia the monsters in the surrounding plains have been getting more aggressive at their attempts to get in the city. It’s almost like they know they can just walk in our front doors.”

“Monsters have never been unintelligent. We just never considered how lucky we were to have the barriers.” Flynn leans over his desk and snatches up the cloak hanging off the back of his chair. “I’ll head down south to their patrol quarter and check it out. I’d like you to gather some reinforcements and meet up with the unit in the northern quarter. Lock up the gate and then split the battalion to sweep down to the east and west.”

“Shouldn’t I come with-“

“I’ll be fine, Sodia. We’re a bit strapped for help because of the holiday and I would rather you have the back up.” Flynn ties off his cloak and nods to the door. “Don’t make me say that’s an order.”

“Sir!”

As soon as Sodia is out of sight Flynn takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. It’s shaky and doesn’t so much calm his nerves as it does make him aware of just how tense he is.

Damn it!

He feels so unbalanced when it comes to Yuri. Thinking about him in even the slightest bit of danger makes his heart skip a beat and he can feel his chest tighten, threatening an onslaught of panic he can’t afford to waste time fighting.

He can’t lose focus, not now. Not when everything is teetering on the edge of compete disaster. For as much as Flynn wants to rip his armor off and go look for Yuri, he is the commandant of the empire and he won’t fail his soldiers. He won’t become the very thing he’s fought against his whole life.

And despite knowing that’s exactly how Yuri would want it, it still hurts. Spirits, it sucks.

It’s just like Zaude and Flynn’s worst nightmares consist of reliving the hell that was those two weeks thinking the Yuri was gone. Knowing that Yuri was gone. Having to accept that Yuri was gone.

Then Yuri wasn’t gone and Flynn realized that there was nothing in the world that he was scared of more than having to go through that again. Nothing ever was or ever will be.

Damn it, Yuri. I’m going to kill you.

_

Despite the ever-present nausea that has kept her from eating all day and the voice in her head that has been screaming ‘something’s wrong!’ at her since the sun rose, Estelle lets a small smile creep up her face as Flynn comes half running down the stairs to the lower quarter. She knew he was worried, even if he was determined not to let it show. Still half running was definitely not the best sign. He was clearly in a hurry, but also trying not to make it look like-

Oh, oh no. Something’s wrong.

“Flynn!” Estelle runs out from under the awning she’s taken shelter under and flips the hood on her cloak up to try and protect her face from the snow whipping around. “What’s going on?” The way Flynn hesitates as he turns to meet her makes Estelle’s stomach flip, but she catches his gaze and doesn’t let him look away. Please please please just-. “Tell me.”

“The southern patrol missed their check in.”

Estelle bites her lips and swallows hard. “But that’s…that’s the road that leads to Halure.” The road Yuri is traveling on.

Flynn tears his gaze away and sets off down the street slowly until he’s past the residential houses. Pausing, Flynn glances around quickly before sprinting out of the gate towards the plains. “Let’s go!”

Now it’s not just Yuri that could be in trouble and that makes the knot in Estelle’s stomach tighten even more. How Flynn does it, how he keeps his façade of calm despite everything will never cease to amaze her. Right now, she wants to run reckless into the storm the same way she wanted to jump into the waters around Zaude to look for Yuri when he fell.

She can’t lose him again. She can’t and she knows Flynn feels the same way, but she also knows Flynn’s first priority is now the missing soldiers. They were his men and Yuri…well Yuri is not and she hates that. She hates that he’s forced to choose. She hates that one life is considered less than another just because they aren’t a part of the empire’ because they chose to live their life differently.

It’s so very wrong, and for how much it makes her want to scream she can’t imagine how it makes Flynn feel. Estelle considers herself lucky; despite being a member of the empire, or the small detail of being the princess of the empire, she feels like she has way more freedom than Flynn does. She could run off right now and look for Yuri and no one would say anything to her, but if Flynn did that… well if his own guilt didn’t eat him alive then the council would certainly have a few words to say about it.

Yuri would probably kill them both for doing anything like that. No, Yuri would definitely kill them.

It isn’t until Estelle can barely make out Flynn’s blue cape in front of her that she realizes just how hard it is snowing. The walls within the city cut the wind down, but out on the plains the snow was falling in every direction, including up. The wind itself was deafening as it batters Estelle and she has to slow down a couple of times to keep from being knocked off her feet. Flynn doesn’t seem bothered and she vaguely wondered how much of that was his determination and how much of it was his armor.

Which she almost collides with as Flynn skids to a halt with a hand on his hilt. “Flynn?”

Flynn puts a finger to his lips and peers around. “Something is-“

Bark!

“Repede!”

[hergan416]

First line meme

Rules: List the first lines of your last 15 stories. See if there are any patterns. Then tag your favorite authors!

I was tagged by @touchmycoat and I will pass this on to anyone who wants to do it. Even if I don't follow you, or you don't think I mean you, I mean you if you think this sounds fun. Feel free to tag me so I can see what you learn!

About formatting--I am considering each chapter in the fic "Thirty One Days" a unique chapter for the purposes of this meme, as they are written to be loosely connected one shots.

I am using both of my pseuds to better get a picture of my writing history, so if you end up looking up my yugiomo pseud...know that there WILL be omorashi and consider this your warning. If you do not know what this is, and are over 18, use urban dictionary or something.

Astonishingly, all of the first lines of all of the fics are tumblr safe. Horray. Most of the fics aren't. If you look up any fics, PLEASE pay attention to the ratings on AO3, and any content warnings.

Patterns: Every. Single. One. Of my new (2019 holiday season forward) fics starts with the name of a person and a paragraph. This paragraph immediately sets up the person's thoughts. Previously, I had begun fics with much more action, often with dialog, or specific thoughts or actions. "Keijo!!!!!" was sitting in my drafts for years before it was finished and posted, so it makes sense that it followed my old format, despite falling on the newer side of the break I took writing. (It is the only thing I published besides the 2018 YGOME before the 2019 YGOME started me writing again.) The long break coincides, to my memory with the tumblr purge and me entering a long-term relationship with my current partner. I should maybe think about adding more action into my writing again.

15. "War of Love: The Game" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Draw!” Atem yelled as he pulled the card out of the deck and looked at it.

14. "Dignity Lost! The Ship Ride to Duelist Kingdom" (yugiomo pseud, and yes apparently I'm mainblogging that now). --- Anzu grit her teeth as she listened to the gentle sound of water on the hull of the giant boat, every wave torturous to her ears. Finally she stood from her position crouching next to Honda. “I’m at my breaking point,” she complained, her voice a slight whine.

13. "Paladins: Champions of the Realm" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Enemy double kill... enemy triple kill!” the automated voice announced. "Enemy killing spree.”

12. "Failure" (yugiomo pseud) --- Stupid Kaiba and his stupid rules! Jounouchi thought, desperately working at the restraints that held him him in place. Who even made desks like this anyway? It almost seemed like the chain was built in, like it was meant to be on the desk. But that couldn’t be right. Kaiba had said he’d had this desk as a kid.

11. "More Sex Play" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Want to play something other than Duel Monsters this afternoon?” Atem suggested to Kaiba as he dug through the golden box for his deck. “I live in a game shop, surely there is something else you’d like to try to beat me at.”

10. "Alone" --- All Kaiba wanted was to shrink away from the music, the noise and the crowd. He didn’t want to play this part anymore, but he had to, for Mokuba’s sake. Mokuba was all that was left.

9. "Trying (On) My Patience" -- “Look, all I’m saying is that you need to find something other than a discarded school uniform to throw over your shoulders. And maybe some better jewelry.”

8. "Keijo!!!!!" from "Thirty One Days" --- “Don’t you think we should check it out?” Atem insisted, his intense gaze meeting Kaiba’s across the desk. “It’s the latest competitive fad in Japan. According to Yugi, men are going crazy for it.”

7. "Liquid Gold" --- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9XaS93WMRQQ

Atem sat at the computer, simply searching the internet while he waited for Seto to finish up with his work. While he almost exclusively had been using this specific computer in Seto’s office space since coming back from the afterlife, occasionally Seto would use it to set the ambiance while Atem was gone. What Seto didn’t know is that Atem had figured out how to search the browsing history, and that he had recently seen that there were nearly 20 plays of the same youtube video.

6. "All I Want For Christmas..." --- Yugi yawned as he watched out the window of the Kaiba jet . It was the private one, not the blue eyes white jet; Yugi had always been secretly nervous about that plane’s capability of flying, and regardless, there wouldn't have been enough room for Mokuba, Yugi, and Seto to fly in the dragon-shaped jet together. He’d been woken by the announcement of the plane’s descent, as dawn broke over the unique arrangement of city and harbor that forms Sydney, Australia. 

5. "Help Me Doctor (I Have Sinned)" --- Marco always had an eye out for sails as he went about his daily tasks on Whitebeard’s peaceful home island. He’d been expecting Edward Weevil to make his way there eventually, and in the meantime needed to protect the small island from bands of low-class marauders. So, when he was walking down the beach and he recognized the telltale black flag, he immediately pulled out his spyglass. The jolly roger showed a skull surrounded by a fluffy pink scarf, with giant red lips and a brown and pink tricorne on its head, and Marco’s heart rate immediately increased.

4. "Shimmering Blush" --- Tony Tony Chopper woke up bright and early, excited to go back to see his friends. The last two years in Birdie Kingdom without seeing any of the other Straw Hats had been long, even with the new friends he’d made here. He knew he was stronger, and would do his best to support everyone now that he would finally get to see them again.

3. "House On A Hill" --- Marco wasn’t about to listen to Katakuri (of all people) lecturing him on selflessness. They both had always been the kind of people that would prioritize their families over themselves. That was why they had ended and Marco was cursing Katakuri for not leaving the island after yet another ill-advised tryst.

2. "Relief" (yugiomo pseud--you thought this died in 2017, didn't you?) --- Ryou had, for the most part, reached an understanding with the Spirit of the Ring. Unlike Yugi, Ryou was well-aware of the other person that had come attached to the Millenium Ring, the Item his father had gifted him from one of his archeological digs. Most people probably would have assumed they were cursed the first time they saw the disembodied Spirit following themselves around, and thrown the Ring away as far as they could. Ryou, in contrast, turned around, faced the Spirit, and said hello.

1. "Shared Nightmares" --- Robin has had nightmares about the Buster Call that destroyed Ohara ever since she escaped her fate. Sometimes it’s just the kids back home that picked on her and called her a devil child, all in the rescue boat and dying because she might have made it on board, sometimes it’s the burning of the Tree of Life, sometimes it’s Saul’s laughing face as Akoiji froze him solid.

0. "Seek and Ye Shall Find" (I miscounted and started a fic late and I am not spending time readjusting this nonsense) --- Atem was so happy he’d finally found a way to at least view what was happening back in Domino. Rather than getting surprised by the Gods’ future requests at world-saving, he could keep an eye on things from the afterlife. It’s not like he could transport himself to Domino without the Gods’ help, so it was more a way to keep an eye on things in the meantime. The Kaiba Dome seemed the best place for the mirror into the realm of the living; after all, Seto Kaiba now seemed the center of all the trouble.

[yourfanvivitran]

It should come as no surprise that John Carpenter and Dan O’Bannon were students in the same film class, that they created Dark Star together, and that they both had a great affinity for 1951’s The Thing From Another World. If you put Ridley Scott’s Alien, which O’Bannon wrote, next to Carpenter’s The Thing, the parallels cannot be contended. A group of people, bound together almost exclusively by their careers, are isolated and trapped in their own environment with a murderous monster. One by one, they are picked off by this alien beast and are forced to pull out all the stops just to survive. The tension in both movies is suffocating. The suspense stays well after the credits roll.

So, why did Alien excel and why did The Thing fail?

Alien was heralded as a science fiction-horror masterpiece, raking in over $200 million at the box office. The Thing, although now recognized as one of Carpenter’s best films to rival even the likes of Halloween, barely exceeded its $15 million budget by $4 million. What’s more is that critics panned The Thing almost unanimously after its 1982 release. And to what point?

When you compare the 2 movies, it objectively doesn’t make much sense. When you sit down and watch The Thing, without even thinking of its much more popular predecessor, it still doesn’t quite add up. There is not much I can say about The Thing that hasn’t already been said before. It’s well-known, now - the writing, the acting, the practical effects, the cinematography? Masterfully done. No arguments. So what went wrong?

The most popularly accepted explanation was that it just wasn’t the right year for it. In 1982, The Thing had to contend with the Summer of Spielberg, being critiqued alongside horror giant Poltergeist and science fiction treasure E.T. How could a stark and grim story of distrust and gore stand alongside such beloved classics?

But in tandem with these films and also calling back to the success of Alien, Carpenter cites reception from various focus groups: they hated the ending.

It should be assumed at this point that if you have not yet seen The Thing, you are sorely missing out. All the same, however, be wary of spoilers.

The end of The Thing is bitter, to put it lightly. Childs (Keith David) trudges through Antarctic snow, lit by the burning wreckage of Outpost 31, towards R.J. MacReady (Kurt Russel) who sits alone, already half buried. They observe their inevitable deaths, and drink to the supposed demise of their shapeshifting predator.

A lot is left out to die in the snow.

According to Carpenter, this ending was seen by test audiences as too dismal. And rightfully so, when you take into consideration the other popular releases of 1982. Carol Anne is ultimately saved, along with the rest of her family, at the end of Poltergeist. Elliot embraces E.T. before he finally returns home. And going further back, even Ripley is able to escape the xenomorph by the skin of her teeth and secure herself the title as one of the greatest “Final Girls” ever put to the silver screen.

And what of MacReady and Childs?

Well, that’s up to your imagination, Carpenter told a test audience member who asked who the final host was at the end of the movie.

“Oh, god. I hate that,” they responded.

As a writer, this loose ends style of concluding a story is almost expected from a lot of modern works. It’s written this way in order to haunt the reader, to linger and adhere itself to the real world in the most sardonic of ways. Think Joyce Carol Oates’s “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?” or Flannery O’Connor’s “A Good Man Is Hard to Find.” This almost anticlimactic close of the curtain arrived in the literary world long before it found its place in film, but it’s a big point of contention in mainstream criticism.

Dark or incomplete conclusions have been met with the most scathing of responses. Beware the black cutaway of Sopranos fame. Or the near-universal outcry against the third Mass Effect game that grew so much, the developers created a morsel of DLC content that maybe kind of confirmed a more optimistic fate for our dear Shepard.

But even for the horror genre, The Thing seemed unprecedented. The only fate darker to fall upon a mainstream protagonist was Ben’s untimely death in Night of the Living Dead. The tragedy of both movies is palpable - all this trouble to survive against inhuman killers, all this trouble to outlive something gruesome and maybe even make the world a better place, and what was left to show for it?

In short, Carpenter’s science fiction terror was too much of a bummer.

I personally did not take much of a liking to horror until much later in life. My parents didn’t filter the media I consumed as much as they probably should have, and I was scarred early on by movies as cheesy and entertaining as The Lost Boys and Blade. It wasn’t until late adolescence and into college that I set out to catch up.

My roommate at the time of this resolution had been a fan of horror her whole life, her favorites being Halloween, Candyman, and The Thing. Having already known a good deal about the former two, I decided to strap in for The Thing for the first time ever.

These days, I always have several soap boxes on retainer, just waiting for the next unwitting recipient of my usually-beer-induced rants. Brian Jones was killed, Jaws single handedly endangered sharks, banning books is a stupid practice, representation in media is important, etc. Predictably, one of these soap boxes is the general lack of appreciation of The Thing, both at the time of its release and today (it does not even make the top 100 on Rotten Tomatoes’s highest rated horror movies).

And yet, at the same time, if The Thing had achieved the credit it deserved upon release, I may not like it as much as I do today.

I make a point to not read too much about movies I am feverishly anticipating, and revel in the feeling of going into a well-known movie knowing as little as possible. Most of the time, it makes for the best viewing experience, but I’m sure I don’t even have to point this out.

This was my experience seeing The Thing for the first time. I was on winter break, staying at my parents’ house for the holidays. Everyone else had gone to bed, and I stayed up late in the living room, curled up under layers of blankets, content in perfect darkness save for the television.

I had no idea what to expect, as I had not been spoiled by any TV show making any blatant references and had not done any prior reading into the film itself. And I was absolutely delighted from beginning to end.

What stays with me the most is the special effects. It’s true what they say - that practical effects hold up better than CGI alone. And the production team didn’t cut any corners in this department. Stan Winston and his team, who were later responsible for the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park, helped construct one of the best animatronics in the movie. Rob Bottin, who brought this constantly-morphing creature to life from conception to every last slimy detail, went on to be hailed as a genius in his special effects career. And there is definitely something to be said for the work of cinematographer Dean Cundey whose masterful control of lighting and framing is best seen in Who Framed Roger Rabbit?

The extent of my knowledge of the titular creature was that it was an alien. That it was an alien who could consume multiple life forms and take on their shapes was both exciting and terrifying. There’s creative genius in this premise that thrills the science fiction lover in me, and also fascinates the bookworm in me. I had been a fan of Agatha Christie novels as a teenager, and to see a new and outrageous take on the And Then There Were None structure was incredibly novel to me.

The appeal wasn’t just that there was something out there, lying in wait to torturously pick off it’s victims one-by-one. It was that it could have been anyone.

At its core, horror as we know it has deep roots in whodunnit style murder mystery. With the rise of the giallo and the sensation of the slasher, horror movies of this nature are far from uncommon and can be seen as late as 1996 with the Scream franchise. Carpenter himself spurned a new kind of fear with his breakout success with Halloween by refusing to give a bodily face to its main antagonist. Here, with The Thing, he takes the eponymous killer character to the next level by giving it the genetically inherent function of deceiving its prey. Not knowing the true face of your murderer has proven to be inherently bone-chilling.

Even now, hundreds of horror movies under my belt later and still constantly learning, I keep coming back to The Thing. I really cannot think of another movie in my wide array of favorites that I love more than The Thing, and I truly believe it has everything to do with me not knowing anything about it upon my first viewing. Every other movie I can name on my (similar to the subject) constantly changing top 10 list of most beloved horror flicks was, at some point, spoiled for me in some capacity.

Think of how often the twins in The Shining are referenced in cartoons, of all the head spinning jokes made in reference to The Exorcist. Anthony Hopkins’s portrayal of Hannibal Lector in Silence of the Lambs has become so infamous, that I knew his dialogue (and Buffalo Bill’s) long before I ever saw the movie in full.

I don’t blame these references for ruining these movies. As a super fan, I understand that compulsion to pay tribute. It’s no one’s fault and to their credit that these films take lives of their own. But the repercussions don’t age well in terms of initial viewing experiences.

All that being said, I truly cherish how much I was not exposed to this movie. The unpredictability of the creature and the quiet, looming despair that comes with it create a horror unlike any other.

Although it was a box office flop, The Thing is now a welcome and praised name in both science fiction and horror. Even Quentin Tarantino made it known that The Hateful Eight was primarily inspired on several fronts by Carpenter’s underrated work. However, it has not pervaded pop culture like so many other horror classics have left their indelible mark on film vernacular. And to that end, I hope it remains in that slight shadow of anonymity for all future enthusiasts.

[inmyownlittlecorner5]

Moonlight Chapter 14: Cruciatus

A fanfic Novel by la-topolina

Rated for Mature Audiences

Warnings: Language, Violence, Sexual Content

Chapter 14/26

Moonlight Masterpost+

<< Chapter Thirteen+

Chapter Fifteen+ >>

Severus worked steadily in the Lee’s potions room, his movements as controlled and methodical as if he had been at Hogwarts brewing without a care in the world. A batch each of Blood Replenisher and Wound Reducer bubbled quietly in the cauldrons before him. It was a peaceful scene from the outside and one would never know by looking at him that the usually aloof man was fairly sick with worry and anger within.

How was it that Miranda had managed to disappear within twenty minutes? Why did she possess this special talent for getting herself into trouble? How long could she possibly hope to survive living her life this way? And how long could he stand the anxiety of waiting for her to return either maimed or dead? It was one thing to face danger and death himself; that he was used to. But he had never been comfortable with the idea of those he cared for facing the same. Not that he was admitting to caring overmuch for her—no, not at all. But he found that his mind kept creating worse and worse scenarios, all of which ended with Miranda being murdered by the Dark Lord.

He had been watching the clock obsessively for the last hour and a half, impatiently waiting for two o’clock in the morning. at two, he would go and demand that Mrs. Lee send an Auror after the idiot Americans. Why was Aaron Lee so incompetent that he couldn’t be trusted to keep track of Miranda for a few hours at a party? Severus couldn’t be expected to watch the fool woman every moment. Even when he was watching her, it didn’t seem to do much good.

At one minute before two, he decided he had waited long enough. He set a cold, intimidating expression on his face and started out of the potions room to frighten Mrs. Lee into doing what she should have done an hour ago. His hand was on the doorknob when the silence in the flat was broken by the slamming of the front door and the obnoxiously loud singing voice of Mr. Lee.

“My Cindy got religion, she had it once before! But when she hears my ol’ banjo, she’s the first one on the floor!”

Aaron’s voice resounded through the flat and Rachel and Miranda’s laughter soon mingled with it. Relief rushed through Severus so strongly that he put a hand on the doorframe to steady himself. If Miranda was laughing, then she was alive and probably not terribly injured. He felt as though he could draw breath for the first time since he had realized she was missing. He turned back to the cauldrons, wanting to compose himself before he went out into the fray. The three Americans were talking so quickly and laughing so loudly that it was impossible to understand anything they were saying through the closed door. It was just as well. He needed a moment of quiet before he could face them.

He was not quite ready when he heard the door to the potions room open.

“Sorry I’m late,” Miranda said cheerfully. “I hope you were nice to Rachel.”

“Being as I am working for her without pay, it would appear so,” he replied, his voice cool and even. He kept his back to Miranda and his eyes on the cauldrons. Now that he had absorbed his initial relief that she was alive, he had time to be properly angry at her.

“Oh, don’t be angry, Severus. I have a good excuse.”

Her lighthearted tone only made him angrier. “Don’t you always?”

She sighed with what sounded like exasperation. “Honestly, don’t you think you’re being a bit unfair? Are you actually angry at me because I inconvenienced you?”

“No,” he answered. His voice was quiet, but he used it like a whip. “I am angry with you because thanks to your inability to follow simple instructions, I have spent the last two hours assuming that you were being tortured and killed.”

He heard her come into the room and felt her put a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s much easier to face the danger than it is to wait for someone to come back from it,” she said. “I’d rather do the former than the latter myself.”

He finally looked at her and couldn’t quite keep his face from showing how startled he was by the state she was in. 

“Bathing in the blood of virgins again, I see,” he said dryly.

She smiled. “Your friend Lucius decided it was time to consummate our relationship with a duel. I was winning, so he dumped me in a pit with a tebo. I’d have been back an hour ago, but I couldn’t just leave all that wonderful hide there, now could I?”

He shook his head at her and said sarcastically, “No. I suppose you would have been a fool to leave it.”

She continued to smile and replied coaxingly, “I brought you a present too.” 

He raised an eyebrow and noticed the large bag sitting on the floor by the door. It felt heavy when he lifted it onto a table for examination. He opened it slowly and his eyes widened a bit as he realized what it contained.

“I seem to remember an article you published a few years ago about how tebo parts would make stronger variants of certain potions. Unfortunately, they are prohibitively expensive,” she said smugly.

He stared at the perfectly butchered organs, hooves, and tusks all cozily nestled in their own pockets in the bag. His anger melting away, he lifted his head and his eyes gleamed at her.

She was reckless. She was barbaric. She was completely mad.

She was magnificent.

“As I said, you always have an excuse,” he repeated, his tone losing its bite. He closed the bag and started to pull her into his arms, but she inhaled sharply and flinched.

“What is it?” he demanded.

“Malfoy thought it would be fun to hit me with a bout of Cruciatus,” she answered, her voice starting to sound exhausted. “I’ve had better, but I guess the smoke and the adrenaline are starting to wear off. I’m afraid I’ve been a bit of a tease. I doubt I’ll be able to make good on my implied promise of physical bliss tonight.”

“I think it is time to take you home,” he said quietly.

With a flick of his wand, the bag rose into the air and hung there, as if on a string. He put his arm around Miranda’s shoulder to steer her out of the room. She flinched as his arm came in contact with her cursed body, but then she settled against him, apparently glad for the support. The bag floated obediently behind them as they came into the kitchen where Aaron and Rachel sat at the table, heads together like a pair of turtledoves.

“I think I’ve had all the fun I can handle for now,” Miranda said with a tired smile.

“It was just like old times, wasn’t it?” Aaron replied, grinning at her. “Leave what’s left of your wand here. I might be able to find traces of the curse on it.”

“I’m not planning to press charges against Malfoy.”

“I figured that. But I think it’s a good thing to have in our pocket, just in case.”

She shrugged and fished out the pieces of her wand.

“How encouraging to see that you take such good care of your things,” Severus said as she tossed them on the table.

She rolled her eyes at him. “It broke when I fell into the pit. Actually, I don’t mind. Now I can replace it with an unregistered one.”

“Your wand is registered?” he asked incredulously.

“All wands in America are registered and it’s a royal pain.”

“How draconian.”

“Well, you can bet I won’t register my next one unless someone makes me.”

“I’m not hearing this conversation,” Aaron said pointedly.

Severus frowned. “I believe that Mr. Ollivander takes his vacation at this time of year. I doubt you will be able to replace it until late next week.”

“I guess you’ll just have to baby-sit me until then,” Miranda teased.

“Or you can leave her here,” Aaron said with a wink. “We’re used to her antics.”

Severus gave Aaron a withering look. “I suppose I require some sort of trouble to occupy me during the Holidays.” He gave Rachel a short bow and added, “Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Lee.”

“You’re welcome professor,” Rachel replied good-naturedly. “Although I think you should call me Rachel. Those of use who know the difficulties of managing these two have to stick together.”

Severus wasn’t sure he cared for the American’s casual address, but he wasn’t sure he cared to alienate her either. He gave her a noncommittal nod and flicked his wand at the second bag of tebo harvest that sat on the kitchen floor. Then he guided Miranda out of the flat with the bags floating behind them. When they reached the street, a fog blew in by way of an unfelt breeze. It was oddly warm as they walked through it, and when they emerged on the other side, they were standing on the lane leading to her cabin. She was limping openly by then, so he lifted her as gently as he could and carried her the rest of the way. She flinched and started to protest at first, but then she gave a sigh of resignation and laid her head against his shoulder.

After they entered the cabin, he deposited her on the sofa and drew her a bath. He rummaged in the potions closet, muttering irritably about its disorder. No matter—he would remedy that problem tomorrow. It took some time, but he eventually found a bottle of dittany and a measure of healing herbs. He added the latter to the bathwater and then went about the task of removing Miranda’s bloodstained clothing. She did what she could to help, but it was obvious that movement was becoming more and more difficult for her as the night progressed. He ended up carrying her to the bath as well, and she did not bother to argue. 

A quiet moan of pain escaped her lips as she slid into the hot water, but once the initial shock passed, she relaxed into the tub. He applied a dose of dittany to the gash on her arm and then took down her tangled hair. She closed her eyes while he combed it with deft, practiced motions and by the time he had finished, she had started to doze off. He woke her reluctantly before she was completely asleep and helped her out of the bath. She leaned heavily against the wall while he dried her and dressed her in a cotton nightgown. Her face was pale and drawn with pain by then, so he picked her up a third time and carried her like a child to the bed.

He puttered around the cabin for another hour or so, storing the tebo parts for processing the next day. He thumbed through an American book on potions and indulged in a glass of wine from the bar. The potions in the book involving native flora intrigued him and he wondered how many of the plants might grow in England. Perhaps he could drop a hint to Pomona about the more interesting varieties. To his pleasant surprise, he discovered one of his nightshirts in Miranda’s armoire. He felt a bit foolish that he was so pleased that she had kept it—much as he felt foolish for keeping the comb she had forgotten in his chambers in the drawer of the table next to his bed. 

He changed and finally lay down next to her. The light of the setting moon filtered through the curtains and he marveled at how deceptively innocent she appeared when she was asleep. A lock of her hair had fallen across her face and he brushed it back as he studied her. He fully expected that she was going to be the death of him. But he was well aware that there were worse ways to die.

*****

It was late afternoon by the time Miranda awoke the next day. She stretched her aching body and climbed slowly out of bed, quite pleased with the previous evening’s events. As she paced her room to work out some of the kinks in her limbs leftover from the tebo toss, the scent of fresh bread and chicken soup wafted through the door. A bemused smile spread across her face and she recalled the time she had spent at Severus's house after the werewolf incident. He was a good, if utilitarian, cook and she was touched now--as she had been then--at the care he took of her when she was injured. 

She decided it was a day for night clothes and pulled on her dressing gown before making her way to the bathroom to wash the sleep from her eyes. She spent a longer time than strictly necessary to comb and arrange her hair. As she braided just enough of it to keep it out of her eyes, she tried to control that giddy feeling that always threatened to overtake her when Severus did something thoughtful. His demeanor was so bristly most of the time and he worked so hard to act as though he didn't care a fig about her that his sporadic acts of tenderness knocked her a bit off kilter. They made her want to let down her guard in spite of how she had been burned by love in the past. But she doubted that was a wise thing to do with him. He seemed so tangled up inside that she hesitated even to consider offering him more than he might be able to appreciate. Especially when she was so ambivalent herself.

She did indeed find a pot of soup simmering on the stove when she emerged from the bathroom. Her stomach started growling as she gave it a stir and she dished herself up a bowl. She set it on the table to cool for a bit and noticed that Severus had already packed the tebo hide in a tub of salt to cure. 

“I see you are remarkably lazy today,” he said as he appeared in the doorway of the potions room.

“And you are criminally industrious,” she replied, crossing to him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tilted her face up to be kissed. He obliged her, but handled her as though he were afraid of hurting her. She parted her lips to deepen the kiss and, while he made that strangled noise in his throat again, he pulled away. 

“No,” he said sternly as he traced her lips with his finger. “You are going to rest today that I might have the full use of your body tonight.”

“If that’s the price of your cooking and cleaning, I guess it’s worth it,” she said playfully. She glanced over his shoulder and started at the state of her tiny potions room. Slipping past him into it, she saw that it was more than half empty. Most of the potions she had made were missing, along with all of the clutter. What was left was meticulously arranged and labeled in a cramped handwriting. 

“What did you do to my potions room?” she demanded in a mock-angry tone.

“Your potions room was a disgrace to wizarding kind. I am in the process of making it acceptable, to which end I must make a trip back to Hogwarts for supplies. I don’t suppose it is possible for a civilized person such as myself to find this cabin without a barbarian to show me the way.”

She raised an eyebrow at him saucily. “I don’t know. If you decide to run away in a week or two because I’ve pissed you off it will be a lot of trouble to change the hearthstone.”

He gave her an exasperated look and she laughed at him lightly.

“Sit down,” she said. “I’ll take care of it.”

As he went to the sofa, she knelt stiffly in front of the fireplace. She waved her hand over the flames and they started burning a rich, deep red.

After a moment she thrust her hand into them, all the way down to the hearthstone. Gathering some of the ashes, she withdrew her fist from the fire. As soon as her hand was clear, the flames returned to their usual orange color. She pushed herself up off of the floor and brought the ash to Severus. She had to put a hand on his knee to steady herself as she knelt in front of him. 

“Close your eyes,” she said.

When he complied, she smeared ash on his eyelids and then on his hands as well. Each bit of ash shown brilliantly white for a moment, and then disappeared into his skin. She knew it was burning him and pricking him like a thousand tiny needles, but she also knew it was not a painful sensation.

“You can open them,” she said when the ash had vanished. “Now when you Apparate here, you’ll be able to see the cabin and open the door.”

He smirked at her. “Am I still to be denied the famous Homing Spell?”

“I’m afraid so. Only family members can share a Homing Spell.”

“How sentimental.” He gave her his hand to help her up from her knees and onto the sofa, then he brought her the bowl of soup and some bread and butter to go with it. 

“You will stay here until I return,” he said imperiously. “If I find that you have left this cabin, I will strangle you myself.”

“Your wish is my command,” she replied sarcastically, tearing into the food. It was delicious, but she didn’t want to further inflate his ego by telling him so. He gathered his cloak and pulled back her hair to kiss the back of her neck. She couldn’t contain the purring noise this elicited and he left the cabin with an expression of smug superiority on his face.

She enjoyed a leisurely meal and even helped herself to seconds. When she had finished, she cleaned the dishes and then read through Part VI of Song of the Lark. She didn’t want to start another novel straight away, so she examined the new, improved potions room. She would have to make an effort to maintain it after Severus had put so much work into reorganizing it. It amused her that he was so fussy about some things, but that was probably part of what made him good at potions in the first place.

The silence started to sound too loud, so she switched on the wireless. She fiddled with the dial for quite a while without finding anything agreeable, so she switched it back off and opened a drawer in the front of her desk. Out popped a small turntable and a pair of matching speakers. Another drawer revealed ten or so records and she flipped through them, debating about the kind of mood she was in. Finally choosing one, she set it spinning and a scratchy female voice filled the cabin.

“…You say that it’s over now…”

Satisfied, she went back to the sofa and fished out the most recent issue of the Quibbler from a stack on the coffee table. She lit a cigarette and settled in to read.

*****

“….Freedom is just another word for nothin’ left to lose…”

“What on earth is that loathsome din?” Severus demanded when he returned from his errands laden with packages.

She laughed. “Part of the soundtrack of my misbegotten youth. But we can listen to something else if you’d rather.” She pulled herself up from the sofa and took the needle off the record. After returning it to the drawer, she started flipping through the choices again, wondering what could possibly please the man.

He shook his head at her and started unpacking in the kitchen. “I find it ironic that the woman who lectures me about missing meals had let her own pantry dwindle so low."

“Oh, that,” she said nonchalantly. “You see, I’m going to be leaving the country soon.”

He stopped unpacking and turned to give her a withering look. “When exactly were you planning to give me that pertinent information?” His voice was soft, which meant he was, of course, getting angry.

She kept her tone light and her eyes firmly on the records. “I’d like to remind you that you’ve been entitled to know my business for less than twenty-four hours. During which time, I might add, I’ve bested Malfoy in a duel and single-handedly killed and butchered a tebo.”

“I don’t require reminding. Where are you going?”

She paused over the records, debating what to tell him. All the secrecy was beginning to get on her nerves and she wondered, not for the first time, why Albus had warned her against telling Severus much of her mission. If Severus was such an expert Occlumens, then why did it matter if he knew?

Finally she said, “I’m going to Romania. I went to Hogwarts the other night to ask Albus for help putting some distance between Malfoy and myself. Distance that I think is even more warranted after last night’s festivities. Albus pointed out that Romania is an excellent place to hide this time of year and, lo and behold, I received a tip about a large black dog and a Hippogriff keeping company around Săpânţa.”

“I see that you and Albus are now on a first name basis.”

She shrugged. “He gave me a cigarette and promised to pay me off when this charade of a case is over. I guess I’m easy.”

“I’m well aware of how easy you are,” he snapped.

His tone irritated her more than his words did. “You know,” she said cooly,“you could just say that you’re going to miss me instead of being nasty.”

He clenched his teeth and a muscle in his jaw started twitching, but he returned to unpacking the groceries without saying whatever insult had popped into his mind.

She pulled a record out of the drawer and went on, “I’ll be back for those monthly meetings, so it’s not as though you’ll never see me again. It’ll probably be better for your productivity anyway. I expect I’m a terrible distraction when I’m around.”

“I find that my productivity markedly improves after a bit of recreation,” he muttered. He added in a louder voice, “How do you intend to keep Lucius from murdering you at these farcical meetings?”

“By scheduling them so that Aaron can collect me when he goes to have lunch with his friend in the Ministry.” He glared at her and she quickly added, “On time too! Aaron knows I’m always on time to work obligations.”

“Somehow I find that difficult to believe.”

“You’ll just have to believe it.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I don’t really like it either, but I didn’t know that a war was starting when I took the job from Fudge and Malfoy. Even if I had known, I probably wouldn’t have been allowed to say no. There’s not much I can do about it now.”

“As you say.” He finished unloading in the kitchen and took the rest of the packages to the potions room as an awkward silence fell. 

She sighed and called, “Do you like opera?”

“It is more acceptable than the trash you were playing earlier.”

She rolled her eyes. “Mama sent this one for Christmas. She and Papa went out to San Diego earlier this year to see it, so please keep at least half of your cutting remarks to yourself.”

“Now I will have to think of twice as many. What a bother you are.”

She set the record spinning and went back to the sofa and the Quibbler. The lush music slowly dissolved the tension in the air and Miranda felt her shoulders relax. After about twenty minutes, the soprano on the record launched into a melody that was so hauntingly divine that Miranda put down her magazine in order to listen more closely.

“…řekni mi kde je můj milý…”

She let her eyes fall closed as the music washed over her. Her mother had grown up with opera and her father had been wise enough to indulge the interest until he developed an actual interest himself. As the baby of the family and the only girl, it had been a very special thing when it was Miranda’s turn to put on a party dress and accompany her parents to the theatre. She didn’t understand much about the music, but she knew what she liked and what she didn’t care for. The one playing in the cabin now was definitely going to be one that she liked.

She opened her eyes in surprise when Severus joined her on the sofa, liner notes in hand. He was reading them intently, but he put an arm around her shoulders and she settled against him with a smile. He started idly stroking her hair and they sat there for a long time, listening to the music.

*****

They were sitting together on the sofa in much the same way two days later. It was an hour before the New Year and Severus was reading Dickens aloud under duress. He had protested that it was sentimental dreck and Miranda had argued that if one couldn’t be sentimental at Christmastime, when could one be sentimental? He wasn’t sure if it was her argument or her caresses that had swayed him, but there he was, reading about Scrooge’s encounter with the spirit world.

“ ‘Again the Ghost sped on, above the black heaving sea…’ ”

He flinched and dropped the book. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbows and the Dark Mark was clearly visible as it writhed angrily. 

“Surprise party?” Miranda asked quietly.

“So it would seem,” he replied grimly. 

Without another word, she got up to fetch his frock coat and cloak. He did not meet her eyes as he drew them on.

When he was ready, he said, “You should go to bed.”

“Of course. I’ll be asleep five minutes after you leave.”

He traced her cheek with his finger and walked out into the frigid night. After he had gone, Miranda lit a cigarette and sat back down on the sofa. She stared into the fire while she smoked, letting the flames hypnotize her. Without meaning to, she let her mind wander back to the that night when she had first realized what her father did for a living. She had been supposed to be asleep like all good seven-year-olds, but she had heard her parents talking and had crept to the top of the stairs to listen. After her Papa had left, Miranda had gone boldly down the stairs, demanding to know what a ‘bail jumper’ was and why Papa was after one. Mama had refused to answer at first, but Miranda had badgered her until she had explained. Miranda had asked if Papa would get hurt trying to find the fugitive. Mama had hugged her tightly and had said that Papa was very good at what he did.

Miranda shook off the memory and finished her cigarette. It wouldn’t do any good to dwell on the past. She was not a scared little girl and she would not admit to being a scared woman. Severus was good at what he did, too. He would be fine. And, if he weren’t, then there wasn’t much she could do about it at the moment anyway. She went to her tiny kitchen and started pulling ingredients out of the pantry.

*****

The anteroom was dark and cold as Severus waited for the Dark Lord’s pleasure. Since his return to bodily form, the Dark Lord no longer seemed to notice temperature and he did not trouble himself to keep his quarters comfortable for those mere mortals among his followers who did. He also did not trouble himself to keep any sort of furniture in the anteroom, and so the Death Eaters milled about awkwardly in the gloomy chamber, trying to act as though they were not apprehensive to enter the Dark Lord’s presence. Severus did this most successfully of the men gathered tonight. He had claimed a spot near the only window in the room. It was small and smeared with filth, but at least it gave him a place to focus his attention. His face was impassive as he stared out the window, motionless except for his breathing. Avery and Crabbe were also in the room, but they could not manage to keep themselves still. They fidgeted with their robes and paced restlessly. A few times they made abortive attempts at conversation, but every man in that room was too deep in his own concerns to care about any of the others.

It was impossible to say how long Severus would have to wait before the Dark Lord called him into the makeshift throne room. It was within the realm of possibility that he would be sent away without an audience tonight. It amused the Dark Lord to keep his flock off balance, and every one of his sheep was a close and familiar friend to anxiety. Once in a while, the wait was short and the meeting almost positive. Severus did not hope for such a meeting tonight. He wondered if he would be asked about the events of the Malfoy party, or if he were going to be taken to task about his association with yet another Muggle-born witch. These thoughts were not helpful to his composure, so he pushed them away lightly as they arose, like a breeze blowing away the clouds. As he did so, Miranda's face appeared in his mind, and he pushed that away too. This image was more stubborn than the others, so he called up Lily's face to replace it. He spent a long time picturing the exact shade of Lily's hair and recalling the lilting pitch of her voice.

When Lily was firmly fixed in Severus’s mind, Lucius emerged from the Dark Lord’s inner chamber. He gave Severus a contemptuous look, took up a spot as far away from the potions master as he could, and started whispering violently with Avery and Crabbe. Severus wanted to gloat over Lucius’s humiliation at losing so spectacularly to an American Muggle-born. He knew that Lucius was not a flexible thinker and wished he had been present to witness the older man’s floundering in the face of unfamiliar spells. He felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips and put a stop to such thinking. He needed to keep his mind blank. He let these amusing thoughts drift away and called up his memories of Lily and the desires of his youth.

*****

Miranda poured the scalding liquid swiftly into the pan on the counter next to the stove. The chocolate she scattered over it started melting instantly, and she gave her work an approving nod. She scrubbed the dishes, trying not to obsessively watch the clock. Severus had only been gone for an hour and she knew that clock watching would not bring him back any faster. By the time she had finished the dishes, the silence in the cabin was starting to agitate her. She put the final dish back in its place and went to the turntable. As the scratchy female voice started singing again, Miranda dug out a bucket and some rags to start cleaning. Nothing really needed to be cleaned, but it was a ritual she had learned as a child. When Papa was away, if the Roses could not sleep at night, they would clean the house from top to bottom. It had been a warm, companionable way to spend those long and sometimes frightening hours of the night. During the day, it was easier to believe that Papa would come home safely. Night was always harder to manage.

She started with the walls now, scrubbing and singing along with the record. She couldn’t stop her imagination from creating nightmare scenarios, but she didn’t have to dwell on them. She let the images flow through her mind like a river and refused to hold onto any of them. She focused her eyes on the grain of the wooden walls and forced her hands to notice how rough the wet rags felt. Severus would be fine. And, if he weren’t, worrying about him wouldn’t help. Best to wait and deal with whatever came when it came.

*****

Harry Potter and his friends would have been shocked to see their haughty professor kneeling like a slave before the Dark Lord. Indeed, Severus would rather have died than kneel to anyone else. In his youth, this posture had been acceptable to him because he had known that soon enough, he would have slaves of his own to give him obeisance; even as he paid his homage to the Dark Lord. Now it was simply part of the role he had to play in order to carry out the plan. It was humiliating, but the feeling of humiliation was familiar to him now, so he buried it deep with all of the other painful emotions that were not conducive to survival. 

His mind was firmly in the past as he knelt on the hard wooden floor. He willed his knees not to give out before the Dark Lord got on with whatever it was that he wanted. Standing still for so long had made Severus’s legs numb, and the brief walk between the anteroom and the throne room had not been long enough to restore circulation. The pins-and-needles sensation was painful, but he remained still, his eyes hovering somewhere between the floor and the chair where the Dark Lord sat. Severus knew from experience that he had to keep his eyes available in case the Dark Lord wanted them, but he would not look directly at his master. This was something he did both as a sign of submission, and in the faint hope that if he did not offer the opportunity for Legilimency directly, perhaps the Dark Lord would decide not to invade his mind.

This turned out to be a vain hope, and Severus felt the familiar feeling of revulsion threaten to overtake him as the Dark Lord bored into his mind. He knew the feeling would pass though, and he let it wash over him like a wave. He allowed the memories and fantasies of Lily that he had called up in the anteroom swirl through his mind. He mixed in conversations with Albus and dull scenes of him teaching. He added the memory of him greeting Narcissa at the Malfoy party as a calculated risk. If the Dark Lord was planning to meddle with his relationship with Miranda, part of Severus wanted to know it now. But another part of him hoped that the Dark Lord was still unaware of her, and so he did not think of her directly.

After an unbearable time, the Dark Lord withdrew and Severus let his eyes drop completely to the floor.

“Do you never tire of that mud-blood woman, Severus?” the Dark Lord asked in his eerily high-pitched voice.

Severus did not answer because he knew he was not expected to. He kept his eyes on the floor and his face still.

“Do you know why I have called you here tonight?” the Dark Lord asked coldly.

“I am sorry to say that I do not know why I have been so honored, my Lord,” Severus answered humbly.

The Cruciatus hit him more quickly than he was expecting. He dropped to the floor, body contorted in pain. He let the pain wash over him, his mind focusing on the tip of his left index finger. He kept his mind there, curiously examining how much pain that one spot could hold.

When the curse stopped, Severus gasped for breath.

“Arthur Weasley is alive when he should be dead,” the Dark Lord said cruelly. “I am sure you know why.”

Severus knew that he had to answer, and he knew what his answer would bring.

“I am sorry to say that I do not know, my Lord.” His voice was shaky, but he was ready for the Cruciatus when it came this time. His mind was already on the tip of his finger, marveling again at its capacity to hold pain.

When the curse stopped, the Dark Lord hissed, “Weasley was given an anti-venom. An anti-venom made by you.”

“I am most humbly….” Severus began, but the Cruciatus hit him a third time. It was all he could do to keep his mind on the tip of his finger. The curse lasted until he lost consciousness.

*****

Miranda finished drying her hair and pulled on a nightdress and a dressing gown. The cabin sparkled from top to bottom and the toffee was stored away in a tin. She had plans for it, assuming that Severus wasn’t killed tonight. Her stomach was in knots and she started picking through her bookshelves for something to distract her. She knew she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on a novel, so she pulled down Romanian in Conversation and opened it to the next lesson. She obediently parroted the phrases that Polyanna’s voice modeled from the book, but her mind was more focused on the slow ticking of the clock than it was on her da-s and nu-s. It had been more than four hours since Severus had left, not that she was counting. She started pacing and covered her eyes with her hands for a moment so that she wouldn’t be able to stare at the clock.

“România este o ţarā minunatā,” the book chirped.

She uncovered her eyes and directed them to the book as she paced. “România este o ţarā minunatā,” she repeated.

“Trebuie sā mai exersez la românā.”

“Trebuie sā mai exersez la românā.”

“I thought I told you to go to bed,” Severus said in a tight voice as he stumbled into the cabin.

Miranda quickly closed the book and went to him. His face was white as a sheet and he leaned heavily against the door after he closed it.

“You didn’t say please,” she replied, keeping her voice even. She knew the last thing he wanted from her was pity.

He gave her half of a painful smile and she wrapped his arm around her shoulder. He flinched and resisted at first, but then he gave a sigh of resignation and put some of his weight on her. She helped him limp first to the bathroom, and then to to the bed. She brought him a glass of water which he took with a shaking hand and gulped greedily. She brought him another which he managed to drink more slowly, and then she knelt to remove his shoes. He gave a hiss of pain as she pulled them off, but did nothing to stop her. She undid his cloak and the buttons of his frock coat. Although she worked as gently as she could, he could not completely stifle a moan as she removed them. When she was finished, she helped him to lie down and pulled out a cigarette. She lit it and held it out to him.

“I am not going to smoke that vile thing,” he snapped.

“Yes, you are,” she answered firmly. “It will help with the pain so you can sleep. 

He glared at her, but after a moment he relented and took it. He inhaled the first draught deeply and, as he exhaled, his face relaxed a bit.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?” she asked.

He took another drag off the cigarette before replying, “No.”

She went to the other side of the bed and lay down next to him.

“Do you want me to touch you?” she asked.

“Yes.”

She laid her head carefully on his shoulder. He flinched as he wrapped his arm around her, but then seemed content. The room was dark except for the moonlight filtering in through the curtain and the red point at the end of the cigarette. The smoke curled in the dim light and she lifted a finger, swirling it into patterns. After a long time, Severus said, “He didn’t say anything about you.”

“I wasn’t worried about that,” she replied.

“I was.”

She frowned. “Do you think he knows about me?”

“I have no idea.”

She was quiet for a while and then said lightly, “I see the Dark Lord is less patient with your cheek than I am.”

He made a sound between a laugh and a groan. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“Did he have a reason, or was this just for fun?”

She thought he wasn’t going to answer, but after a while he said, “He was angry that my anti-venom was used to save one of his intended victims. But he doesn’t require a reason.”

She closed her eyes and wondered how long Severus would be able to play this part. She knew that he was brave and tenacious, but it seemed like a lot to ask of a man.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she said simply.

He made a scoffing noise as he blew out a line of smoke. “I’m surprised you would admit that.”

“Severus, I actually do like you. Most of the time anyway.”

“High praise indeed."

She laughed quietly. “I wouldn’t complain if I were you. It’s more praise than you’ve ever given me. And you’re already the most arrogant man on the face of the earth.”

“Fishing for compliments are we?”

She smiled. “From you? Why would I bother?”

He was silent for a long time, smoking down the cigarette. She went back to swirling the smoke into patterns with her finger, assuming that the conversation was over. 

He surprised her, however, by saying finally, “I realize that your powers of observation are no match for mine, but surely you are aware that I think you are magnificent.”

A blush spread over her cheeks and that giddy feeling bloomed in her chest. But she kept her voice light as she answered, “Of course. That goes without saying.” She paused and then added, “You do realize with all your mighty powers of observation that women like to hear that sort of thing once in a while, don’t you?”

“What bothersome creatures you are.”

His voice sounded exhausted, so she didn’t continue bantering with him. He finished the cigarette, snuffed it out in the ashtray on the bedside table, and wrapped his other arm around her as well. Gradually his breathing slowed and before long he had dropped off to sleep. She lay there awake for a long time, listening to his heartbeat. She really didn’t know what she would call their relationship and she doubted that it was the sort of thing that could last until death did they part. But she felt that she wanted to hold onto whatever it was that they had for as long as she could.

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End Notes:

“Cindy” is an American folk song

“Move Over” by Janis Joplin and “Me and Bobby McGee” by Fred L. Foster and Kris Kristofferson; both from Janis Joplin’s 1971 Pearl album.

Miranda would have been six when this album came out, but what are older brothers for?

“Song to the Moon” from Act I of Rusalka by Antonín Dvořák. Rusalka is based on Undine by Friedrich de la Motte Fouqué, which is a retelling of the little mermaid fairy tale. This is not the Disney version, or even the Hans Christian Anderson version: the prince dies and Rusalka (the mermaid) has to wander the earth as a spirit forever. It makes a great opera, though. Many fine sopranos have recorded this aria. My favorites are Renee Fleming and Lucia Popp.

Conor and Monica Rose (Miranda’s parents) flew out to see Rusalka at the San Diego Opera in January of 1995. The role of Rusalka became one of Renee Fleming’s signature roles after she sang it at the Seattle Opera in 1990. She would also have sung the performance in 1995 that the Roses were fortunate enough to hear.

The final bit of quoted text is from A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.

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