#its like. yeah he slept for a hundred years and now has to kick ass and Oh Oops he's fucking dead. for real this time.

[dragonowlie]

Got my hands on a switch today so I could Finally start playing botw and Oops it's now 1 AM but also I need to share that my first death was from falling from the tower. which is embarrassing. because it's just after the cutscene where she's like I'm in the Castle, Go And Save This World and immediately after that my recklessness and stupidity find myself dead at the bottom of the tower having taken fatal fall damage. Hilarious.

[no-droids]

The Floor is Better

Part Eight of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 9.4K i am. appalled.

Warnings: SMUT, very vague attempts at sprinkling in hints of an overarching plot, language, the slightest bit of angst, TONS OF FUCKING FLUFF WOWWWW

A/N: This is by far the softest smut I’ve ever written.  I will say that there is a hint at butt stuff tho (just a HINT—THERE IS NO ACTUAL BUTT STUFF IN THIS GUYS) so brace yourselves

***

Alright so this bed is, like.  Atrociously uncomfortable.

It’s not even a bed.  It’s a cot.  Just a bare minimum place to sleep, shoved into the wall and taking up less space than the ship’s armory.  Like a… like a really shitty gurney almost, except no padding.  So not even a gurney then, just a fucking.  Piece of metal.  Just a piece of fucking metal to sleep on.

There’s surprisingly a bit of space to maneuver yourself when you’re pulled into the cubby completely like this, and yeah, it’s quiet and dark in here but man does your back hurt.  Is his spine made of metal, too?  Is that why he prefers this?  The floor isn’t a feather mattress by any stretch of the imagination, but at least there aren’t any uneven support bars digging into your side.

You’re on Coruscant, and Mando’s been gone for over three weeks.

It.  Fucking.  Blows.

You’ve literally run out of ideas to occupy your time.  You’re far enough above Coruscant’s dangerous underworld to not worry about any potential… mishaps, like what happened on Corellia, but the only issue with the ground being so far below you is that it’s not like you can just stroll down the road and buy yourself a deck of cards at the nearest merchant.  The only shop within walking distance of this hub contains the bare essentials; things like food, medical equipment and bacta, spare electronics and parts—all of which you purchased without hesitation.  Other than that, you need a ship to travel anywhere in this massive galactic capital, and while you just so happen to have a ship, what you don’t have, at least right now, is a Mando.

Fuck, but you did.  Before he left, you had Mando all to yourself for at least a full hour.  After he landed the Crest in a long-term terminal and turned his attention back to you, for some reason, he was insatiable.  It didn’t really make much sense back then, but in hindsight, it’s like he knew good and well how long he was going to be gone this time, attempting to search for a quarry on a planet with a population that broke a trillion last year.  It makes sense.  With this many people, a biometric tracking fob would be almost useless, and sure, you realize he set the ship down in the long-term terminal for a reason, but long-term with Mando typically means a week or two.  You suddenly realize that in a handful of days, he’ll have been gone a full month.

You suppose you probably could fly the ship somewhere else and send him a coded coordinate set of your new location, but for some strange reason, you can’t seem to reconcile going to all that trouble just because you’re bored out of your fucking mind.  You don’t want him to have to travel another however many miles out of his way to get back to you just so you won’t have to twiddle your thumbs for weeks on end.  You don’t want to run the risk of trying to make a quick trip there and back without alerting him of any change in location, either, especially on a planet this size.  He could return to the hub at any time, and if he comes back to a different ship parked in this lot, you’ll probably never see him again.

Okay, no, that’s not true—he hunts people for a living, and you have his kid.  You probably just wouldn’t see him for at least another month or so, and by then he’d be fucking livid.

So.  You stay here.  The baby offers a distraction, but only to a certain point.  The ship is pristine right now, inside and out.  Fucking pristine.  Almost… almost compulsively so, you reluctantly admit.  The console’s entire motherboard has brand new soldering and connections.  You used ear swabs to clean and polish each individual button, key, and knob in the entire flight deck.  You… may or may not have even labeled and color-coded the heat shrink wrap on every single cable in the Crest’s patchbay, all five-hundred and something of them.  When you pried open the metal paneling that covered all the ship’s interior routing jacks, you remember gasping at the sight of a mechanic’s worst nightmare and wondering if the last person who touched it took even more than a few hours on its installation.  What used to be a horrifying tangle of haphazard wiring is now a lovely set of rainbow snakes meticulously gathered and bound together with zipties, and you’re incredibly proud of it, though you still haven’t decided whether or not you should be.

There’s also a very particular reason you’re in this poor excuse for a bed.  You still very clearly remember Mando’s unfiltered voice in the pitch darkness, telling you he wants to come back to find you in his bed.  To find you in it, so he can fuck you though it.  

Well.  Three weeks ago, sleeping in here sounded like a good idea.  You even have a pillow now, and a blanket you can lay out beneath you while you curl up under the one you brought from home.  It’s thick and warm—probably a shock blanket, to be honest, since you did happen to find in the medical section—but it still doesn’t offer near enough padding to feel like you’re laying on an even surface right now.  Mando could theoretically get on top of you in here and fuck you—there is enough room vertically.  He might break one of your ribs on accident though, just judging from the way this one Maker-forsaken support bar seems to dig into your ribcage no matter which way you position yourself in here.

Stars, your back hurts.  You should just lay on the fucking floor.  If he hasn’t come back by now, what are the chances of it happening tonight?  But then your mathematical hindbrain immediately reminds you that statistically, the chances are the highest they’ve ever been.  The longer Mando’s gone, the more likely he is to come back every single day that passes.

It’s just as well, you figure, grabbing the tracks beneath the bed and slowly beginning to squeak yourself out of the wall.  You try not to let your fingers get pinched between the railing and the slider, but that just means the quickest you’re able to inch out is in intervals the approximate length of your index finger.  It’s dark in the hull—the baby is fast asleep in his crib in the cockpit, and the long-term terminal you’re parked in is quiet.  It would be a perfect time to sleep, if you could.  But here’s the thing—

It sucks that Mando’s gone for this long, absolutely.  It sucks that you slept on this awful fucking bed for three whole weeks when you could’ve done this ages ago.  But most of all, it sucks that you don’t have anything else to do.  Because that means you can’t occupy yourself, and when you can’t occupy yourself, your mind starts to wander.  And then you start to fixate on things you probably shouldn’t fixate on, for your own good.

Things like blood on your hands.  The baby limp in your arms.  A voice spitting, “pretty little bitch like you would sell for at least—”

Your eyes snap to the corner of the hull for the millionth time, the sight of where it happened, before you shake yourself out of it and hop down off the suspended cot.

“This’ll be good,” you whisper quietly in the darkness to yourself, pulling the blankets off and grabbing the pillow.  It’s… it’s something you’ve started to do when you need to instantly snap yourself out of a dreaded line of thinking but you don’t have anything stimulating around you to help.  Talk to yourself, talk about anything, just talk out loud and focus on the sound of your own voice.  If you listen hard enough, it’ll drown out your thoughts.  “The floor will be great.  The floor kicks ass.  I like the floor.”

You spread the fluffiest blanket down on the ground as far away from the offending corner as possible, and then close the much shittier metal bed into the hull wall before collapsing on your clearly superior one, never once ceasing your rambling nonsense about the floor.

Oh, this is nice.  This is fantastic.  Your back is still tight and achy from three awful weeks of sleeping on a “mattress” clearly made for someone with no concept of comfort, but being able to stretch out on a flat surface with a large shock blanket that feels like a fucking cloud under your body?  Your eyes are already starting to droop.

“The floor is better,” you whisper, yawning and snuggling deeper into the pillow.  The terminal is quiet.  The kid will be asleep for a while.  Mando won’t come back tonight.  Mando won’t come back tonight.  “The floor is better.  The floor… the floor…”

***

You jerk awake to something kicking your leg, hard.  

Gasping, you’re instantly pulling the blanket over your chest on reflex and bracing yourself for another impact, except then whatever kicked you is immediately toppling over your shins and stumbling to the floor with an unfamiliar grunt.

You and a man you don’t recognize blink at each other for a few seconds; him taking in the way you’re curled up on your makeshift bed, and you taking in the way he’s got his face squished against the metal ground, apparently not quick enough to use his arms to try and soften the abrupt tumble.

It’s like all your blood suddenly thickens and the adrenaline digs claws into your chest.  Your first instinct is to fucking bolt, but then your eyes instantly flick to the cockpit, where you know the kid is still sleeping.

Only—you can’t move.  You’re frozen in terror, quickly blinking your wide-eyed gaze back at the man on the ground.  You know you could’ve only been staring at each other for a few seconds at most, but with the way your mind is hurtling right now, it’s long enough for you to have just the briefest flicker of confusion as to why he hasn’t appeared to have moved either.

Except then another set of footsteps slowly begin clanking up the ramp.

Your heart is fucking slamming up against your ribcage at about the rate of four beats per footstep, but as soon as you catch a flash of beskar stepping onto the ship, you‘re reaching up to clutch your chest with your palm like you just finished a long-distance sprint and trying to take deep, calming breaths.

It’s just a quarry.  It’s just a quarry.  His hands are cuffed behind his back.  It’s a quarry.

The Mandalorian slowly comes to a stop right in front of your outstretched legs and the sharp angles of his chrome profile silently stare down at them, unmoving.  You swallow thickly and try not to blush as his helmet tilts towards you and follows your knees up to your hips, along your heaving abdomen and chest, before eventually coming to a rest on your face.

He holds there for a second, taking you in.  You bite down your lip and feel your heart thundering under your ribcage, blinking up at him as your cheeks flush in a boiling hot mixture of panic, embarrassment, and relief.

His metallic visor carefully follows the length of your body back down again, pausing once more at your feet.  

And then he sighs heavily through the modulator, loud enough to echo through the silent hull, before slowly stepping over them.

“Well, well,” the quarry says, stealing your attention with a sick smile creeping across half his face as it’s smushed against the floor.  “Who’s this, Mando?  She’s just darling, isn’t she?  Does Gideon know your crew has a lovely new addit—?”

The bounty abruptly cuts off with a strangled yelp when Mando bends down and grabs him by the collar, yanking him to his feet and then shoving him forward towards the carbonite chamber.  

You collapse back down onto the floor with a relieved breath and try not to tremble with the adrenaline comedown.  Maker, you woke up barely a minute ago but almost all of it was spent in fight or flight—or in your case, freeze—mode, and you’re already fucking exhausted again.

“I’ll tell him—” you can hear the quarry snarl just before Mando slams him into the metal frame.  As much as you try to just tune the confrontation out for the moment and focus on slowing your heart rate, you still manage to catch bits and pieces.  “See him again… be interested to know…”

You close your eyes and breathe deeply, counting to three during each inhale and exhale.  Fuck, that scared you.  You almost had a fucking heart attack, and it takes you a few seconds to get your body under control again.  But then you realize you haven’t heard anything from Mando’s side of the hub for an extended moment, and the carbonizing gas hasn’t yet filled the room.

Your head turns and if you squint from this distance, you can make out a leather glove clamped tight around the quarry’s throat, the man’s face a red-purple by this point as he sags weakly against the chamber.

“Mando!”  You bark quite suddenly, and beskar shoulders jerk straight at the sound as the bounty immediately takes in a giant, ragged breath from under a marginally loosened grip.  Mando quickly releases his neck altogether and punches in a few buttons on the control panel to the right, and then freezing gas soon solidifies the gasping quarry into solid carbonite.

He stays with his back to you for a moment, letting the cloud disappear completely before he moves a single muscle.  When he does eventually turn to look at you, he still doesn’t say anything.

He just stares.  The lights in the hull glint off his helmet, and you tug the blankets up your chest a little further on instinct.  Fuck, three weeks is a long time.  You’re defaulting in a way, finding it impossible to not reevaluate him after a long absence.  Before he left, you’d gotten a bit better at gauging his mood and countenance, been more relaxed and friendly around him, but now, after some time away from him, he’s still so… jarring.  Unpredictable, even when standing still.  Especially when standing still.  

You’re just trying to play it by ear, trying to respond to him the way he responds to you.  Only—it feels like he’s either not responding to you at all, or you’re just too rousing of a stimulus to show a response.

“You…” you breathe, and for some reason your heart rate is beginning to kick up again instead of decelerate.  You should be calmer now that he’s here, but he still hasn’t said a word.  “Y-You scared me.”

Mando stays rooted to the spot, just a motionless suit of armor, with the exception of his chest moving with breaths and his fists repeatedly clenching at his sides, and fuck.

Fuck, you’re wet.

You feel like prey right now.  You’re starting to gradually build into another fight or flight mode every second he’s staring you down, refusing to speak, but you also feel a stirring deep down in your floor muscles.  He’s so fucking tall from this angle, so broad and—

He steps a single foot forward.  You flinch at the abrupt movement, practically soaking your underwear now.  Mando takes another step forward, and you wet your lips and start to crawl back on the bed just a bit, staring at him with wide eyes.

Maker, the tension is making it hard to breathe.  You’re silently begging him to come take care of you after such an agonizing three weeks apart, and Mando’s body language looks like he’s more wound up than you’ve ever seen him.  He starts pacing directly to you, crossing the hull rapidly, and your heart thumps furiously with every step he takes.

But then he gets right to the edge of the blankets and suddenly stops short.  He looks down at the neatly made bed at his feet, and then down at his body.

You try not to make an audible huff of disappointment when he abruptly collapses down onto his back with a clatter right there on the floor, just a few inches shy of the blanket, immediately bringing the backs of both hands up to press against the face of his helmet.  It should look weird considering his knuckles are pushing hard against the visor, almost like he’s covering his eyes or has a headache but is rubbing the beskar instead of his forehead, but it doesn’t.  It just makes you want to rip that armor off his body even more and remind him again of what his skin feels like.

“What are you doing?”  You try not to make it sound like a breathless pout as you squirm impatiently under the blankets.  “Come over here.”

“I’m dirty,” is the first thing that comes through the modulator, gravelly and distorted but his voice burning a fucking hole through you after not hearing it for almost a month.  “I need to shower before I touch you.”

You don’t know why, but something about the way he says it makes you throb hard between your legs.

“Will you please just…” you bite your lip, stopping yourself short of saying take your clothes off and go with, “please, just—hurry.  I’m…”

Maker, you don’t know how to say it, and Mando soon rolls his helmet to the side to look at you when you don’t finish your sentence.  Desperate for it?  Hurting?  Feeling your clit pulse right now even though he hasn’t laid a finger on you yet?

“I missed you,” you eventually finish lamely, breathless as you fidget and bite your lip.

“Yeah?”  He breathes, suddenly turning the rest of his body on his side to face you.  “Tell me.”

“I… I want to show you,” you return quietly, scooting closer towards him.  “But you’re being withholding.”

Mando doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, but the front of his visor burns into you, steadily increasing your need for him the longer he silently stares at you.

“Show me, then,” he says after a moment, and the sentence rolls through you with a shudder.

You swallow thickly, and slowly start to pull the blanket down.  It’s unnerving that his helmet doesn’t move, even though you can literally feel his gaze lowering and searing hot along your newly revealed body.  You’re not even naked, not in the slightest, but with the way his shoulders tighten and his spine tenses just slightly, you would think you were completely exposing yourself to him right now.

“Do you want…”  Your fingers waver near your belly button, caught somewhere between wanting to pull the hem of your shirt up for him and wanting to pull the waistband of your pants down.  “What do you want to see?”

A breath comes through the helmet; slow, but shaky.

“I have to shower,” he grunts sharply, suddenly, his fist clenching at his side.  You don’t take offense to the stern tone.  He’s clearly repeating the sentence as a reminder to himself, not to you.

“You can get me dirty,” you breathe regardless.  “I don’t care.”

“I just spent three weeks on Coruscant’s surface,” Mando grits.  “I can’t touch you, I’ll infect you with someth—What are you doing?”

You bite your lip at him as an answer, bypassing your prior conflict altogether by slithering your hand down the front of your pants.

“What are you doing?”  He repeats through the modulator, just as your fingertips wedge underneath the hem of your panties.  

You shiver at the sensation, your eyes losing focus just slightly as you trail down the front of your pussy.  “I… I missed you.”

“Fuck,” Mando barks, and then he scrambles to stand up.  “Stop.  I’m taking a shower, just—just stop.”

You ignore him, turning on your back and widening your knees so he can still see the way your hand is still moving down between your legs, your finger just barely brushing the top of your slit.  “But it feels good.” “Take your hand out of your fucking pants,” he orders tightly.  “Right now.”

Your eyes flutter up at him as you do what he says, slowly bringing your hand out of your trousers.  “Hurry,” you murmur, biting your lip and blinking innocently up at him.  “Please.”

He doesn’t say a word, but his cape does make an audible sound with how quickly he whips around and shuts himself away in the tiny fresher.

***

You forget how long it takes to undo the beskar armor sometimes.  In fact, throughout the entire duration of Mando’s shower, you’re able to quietly sneak up to the cockpit and navigate the ship out of the terminal, pull up the coordinates for the next quarry on the navcomp while rising to a high enough altitude above the galactic capital, make a jump into hyperspace, return to the hull, shut off the lights, and slither back under the covers before the fresher actually turns off.

Soon, Mando raps his knuckles against the door separating the two of you, and you’ve completely wiggled out of your clothes by that point, the blanket resting just below your naked waist.  “Hey,” his unmodulated voice calls from behind the thick slab of metal.  “Eyes closed for a second.”

“I’m not looking,” you agree, draping your elbow across the bridge of your nose and waiting patiently.  He gives you a few seconds regardless before the door is sliding open.  You expect it to quickly shift shut again, plunge the room back into pitch blackness like before, but he hesitates.  It takes another moment for you to realize that he’s probably just staring at your naked chest while he stands there in the doorway, light spilling into the hull and illuminating you waiting for him with your eyes obediently shut.

“I thought I told you not to sleep on the floor anymore,” he murmurs after a quiet second, and you bite your lip and shuffle your shoulders impatiently against the floor, arching your chest out just slightly to entice him to come closer.

“Fuck that bed,” you breathe with your arm still pressed over your eyes, and your nipples feel tight in the cool air.  “Your armory is bigger than that bed, Mando.  Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“Yeah,” he returns, finally shutting the fresher light off and shifting the door shut behind him, beginning to make his way over to you.  “Tells me that there are more guns than people on this ship, as well it should be.”

“Maker, you’re impos—”

You’re cut off by Mando dropping to his knees and slowly crawling over your body, and fuck he’s as naked as you are, he’s naked and his skin is warm and damp from the shower and his hair is still dripping as you slither your arms up his chest and comb your fingers through it.

You can’t see a damn thing but you’re instantly thanking your lucky stars for that fact when his head drops down and a hot tongue drags up the curve of your neck.  Okay, this is better.  This is always better.  Even when you can’t see a damn thing, feeling the hollow of your jaw be caressed by a blazing wet furnace and tugging your fingers through his hair will always be better than when he keeps the helmet on.  Maker, you almost forgot how fucking good his mouth is, how soft and warm it is, and you can’t bite down a whimper when his lips finally trail up your chin and seal against yours.

You moan when his tongue gently slides into your mouth, unable to stop yourself as your cunt fucking throbs between your legs with arousal, and Mando even lets out a short huff of air through his nose and a low noise quietly slips through his vocal cords as he tastes you.  The barely audible sound is enough gasoline to your fire that you wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his lower back before tugging, wanting his cock pressed against your cunt so you can rub yourself against it while he kisses you.

Only, something in the way Mando’s elbows immediately buckle and the hiss of air through his teeth before he unceremoniously collapses on top of you makes you instantly let him go.

“Hey,” you say, letting him bury his head into the crook of your neck and puff a short few breaths of hot air against your skin.  “What’s wrong?”

“Fuck,” he grunts, sounding somewhere between discomfort and legitimate pain, moving to prop his arms up next to your head again but taking a moment before trying to push himself up.  “Back.  Back hurts.  Too—” he winces when his shoulder moves a certain way, “—too old for this.”

“Here.”  There’s just enough space between you and Mando to wiggle out from underneath him, quickly turning around and swinging a leg over his back as he abruptly drops to the floor with the extra weight.  “Let me rub your back.”

“Shit—come on,” he groans against the blankets.  “I haven’t touched you in three fucking—”

Your hands trail up his spine, slow and gentle, and Mando cuts himself off.  He shudders under your palms as they carefully push and roll into the small of his back, and the muscles curving down under your touch gradually rise as he breathes in a lungful of air.  “Let me rub your back,” you repeat softly, letting your voice lull just a bit in a lower register, and all the air immediately releases from under your hands.

“Okay,” he relents, but his spine still holds straight and tight with tension.

“Okay?”  You repeat, dragging your palms back up until they’re roughly in the middle of his spine.  “Tell me if I go too hard.”

Mando barely huffs with a chuckle beneath you.  “Yeah, okay, I’ll tell you if—nghh—”

You dig your knuckles into the dip right beneath his shoulder blades and start kneading, and Mando makes a strangled noise and sags into the floor.  Your smile is almost impossible to hide, but the pitch black hull does the job just fine as you press and roll your knuckles into the hills and valleys of his back.  The noises he makes are a mixture of soft gasps and chokes, but it gives you the perfect opportunity to explore his body in ways you haven’t been able to before.

Your thumbs you dig in and follow the curve of his spine down, squeezing through the tightness in his lower back.  The skin under your hands is soft and giving, even though you can feel massive knots hidden underneath.  You take all the time in the galaxy with it, isolating each ache and pain and then grinding your knuckles into them steady and hard enough to make Mando groan brokenly under the pressure.  You work at it for a while, trailing your fingers up to his neck and massaging the base of his skull, not being able to imagine how much those muscles have to hurt after holding up a heavy beskar helmet every single day.  Your hands explore everything you can from this angle—you squeeze the tops of his shoulders, slide your palms down and squeeze his biceps, the muscles under his elbows, the ones wrapped around his forearms.

“This alright?”  You ask after a while, and you barely get a hoarse grunt from him in response.  His body is perfectly relaxed under yours, almost dead if he wasn’t still breathing, and you slowly walk your hands down the length of his back until you’re braced upright on him once more.  “You gonna make it?”

Eventually, he drags his forearms up so he can prop them against the blankets and slowly roll over underneath you.  You allow the lazy movement, lifting your hips up as he rotates, feeling his smooth skin shift under your palms until he finally comes to a rest on his back.

“My turn?”  He asks through the darkness.

“Your turn for wh—?”  You gasp as his grip instantly tightens, and then he’s abruptly switching your positions until he’s on top of you.  Almost all of your breath is knocked out of you when Mando grabs you and flips you over until you’re on your tummy, and then whatever remains suddenly whooshes out when he straddles you and plops down on your lower back.

“My turn to give you a massage,” he says, and you let out a quiet, “fuck—” when his palms land on your shoulders.

“Wait—” You pant, “—Wait, hang on, I don’t need a—”

Thank the fucking Maker you turn your head quick enough to muffle a loud moan when his fingers begin rubbing hard circles into your deltoids.  Stars, sleeping on hard metal for three weeks was truly a nightmare for your posture.  The knots in your upper back burn under the steady push and press of his touch, and it’s like your muscles can’t decide if they want to relax under the manipulation or tense up against it.

“Maker,” he murmurs, his thumbs frame either side of your spine and slowly drag downwards, and your voice almost cracks as you hide another groan in the pillow.  “Why does your back hurt?  What did you do to yourself?” “I slept—” you gasp when his knuckles roll up the length of your sides.  “Slept—on that piece of fucking scr-scrap metal—you call a—” his fingers press firmly against the valley below your shoulder blades, and then widen apart to start squeezing your arms, “—a bed for three weeks,” you manage to gasp, sparks of sensation shooting down to your fingertips as he rubs the muscles along the length of your biceps.

Soon, Mando’s hands come back down to rest on the small of your back, and he begins digging his thumbs into the base of your spine.  “Why did you do it for so long if it hurt?”

“You said—” You cut off with a moan into the pillow as he slowly scoots back until he’s sitting on your thighs, his hands moving downwards and kneading the soft flesh of your ass, pressing deep into the sore muscles while you struggle to remember what you were going to say.  “Said you wanted me to sleep in y—”

His thumbs start slowly moving inwards, his large hands butterflying out along both cheeks and squeezing.  He spends a second just grabbing and pulling your pillowy flesh, shamelessly spreading you and manipulating it until you’re throbbing between your legs again.  He’s being so brazen about it, too, gradually moving his thumbs closer and closer together until they’re digging into the crevice.

“Hey, uh,” you pant, starting to tense up a bit as his thumbs begin moving downwards.  “Ma—h-hey, you’re getting really… close to m-my…”

His hands keep steadily moving down, and you’re starting to squirm just a bit at the unfamiliar sensation of someone’s fingers pressing and kneading the unexplored skin between your cheeks.  

“Getting real close to your what?”  He drawls out from above you, low in his throat, and your cunt pulses with need.

Fuck, you’re gasping raggedly into the pillow, wondering if the absence would truly make him this bold.  You’re halfway caught between nervousness and being incredibly fucking turned on, and the way he pauses right above your asshole and just holds there makes your the muscles deep in your lower abdomen twist in anticipation and heat.  Fuck, you’re soaking the blankets beneath you, you can tell.  A thin sheen of sweat breaks out across your body and it’s all you can do to just lay there and wait for it with bated breath.

But then his weight is suddenly lifting from you and sliding down the length of your legs, settling at your feet.  You barely have enough time to let out a deep sigh—half of it relief and the other half… disappointment, maybe?—before he grabs hold of one of them, the size of it only slightly bigger than his hand, and firmly presses both thumbs into your arch.

A groan of approval slips through your vocal cords and you go practically boneless underneath him, not realizing how tense you just were a second ago.

“Fuck, that’s s-so good,” you murmur into the pillow, grabbing the blankets at your sides and fisting them subconsciously as he clamps his large hand around your heel and squeezes.

After spending just as much time and attention on the other foot, you feel him grip both your ankles and start working circles up the length of your calves with his thumbs.  His hands flex against the backs of your knees when they get there, and then your breathing kicks back up again when they gradually drag up your subtly clenching thighs.

But then they come to an immediate halt about halfway up, and you have to bite back a huff of distress when he just holds there.  Fuck, why did he stop?  Why did he stop?

“Sweet girl,” he eventually breathes out, sounding somewhere between chastising and shocked.  Your eyes flutter in the darkness at the tone, the endearment after nearly a month without it, and you wiggle slightly on the bed with arousal.  “Is this…?”  Mando brushes his fingers along the inside of your thighs, and you can feel the way his cock pulses as he presses it tight against your leg.  It’s not until he drags his hand down to your calves that you feel the slick heat coating the tips of his fingers, wiping it off on your relatively dry skin.

The pitch blackness makes it impossible to truly tell, but you’re sure your eyes roll back.  Stars, you are so wet for him, you’re leaking it halfway down your thighs.  It’s been too long since he’s touched you.  You can feel your lower muscles bearing down and coiling tight, your entire pelvic area now cramped up with need.

When his hand carefully moves up and a finger just barely ghosts over the soft flesh of your lips, you can’t stop yourself.

“Touch me,” you hear yourself suddenly beg, goosebumps breaking out along your skin while he begins to slowly trace the outside of your slit, up and down, up and down.  “Oh, fuck—please, Din, touch me, I—”

“Hush,” he tells you softly, and fuck, he’s on top of you and you physically can’t do anything to encourage him to hurry up.  The only thing you can do is kick one leg out as wide as possible and just shudder helplessly against the floor, trying to give his hands more room to work.

You feel desperate, your blood pounding through your ears as he takes all the time in the universe exploring you.  “Stars, don’t do this—I need you to—”

“Hush,” he murmurs once more, before moving both fingers to spread your lips apart ever so slightly, your slick heat seeping out to coat his fingers and the blanket below.  “Relax for me.”

Maker, your lower muscles are tightening down and throbbing in equal parts, and you just can’t relax, you can’t relax when you’re this close to cumming all over his hand even though he’s barely touched you.  You’ve been aching for it this whole time, but now there’s a bite to it, a slow burn that begins to engulf the lower half of you in simmering heat.  “Din, please, I missed you so m—”

You choke when you feel the slightest brush of a fingertip next to your clit, before he’s firmly pushing down and tracing a torturously strong semi-circle around the top of it.

Your toes curl and your body locks up and you gasp his name into the pillow, flexing every single muscle in your body in response to his touch until you’re impossibly rock hard with tension under him.

“Poor thing,” Din whispers, slowly tracing an arch back around the other way, and your entire body trembles with it.  Maker, you’re soaking his hand, slippery and hot and every nerve from the waist-down feels sharp and exquisite at the same time.  He leans down to press his lips to your shoulder blade while starting to rub strong circles around your clit.  “All alone for three weeks, nobody around to look after you.  Make sure you’re seen to.”

You’re not sure which way is up right now, and not being able to see anything isn’t fucking helping either.  You feel dizzy with sensation, shaky as his tongue slowly drags up your skin, and you actually feel water rush to your eyes in torment when he pulls his hand away.

You open your mouth to beg him not to stop, but then he’s already moving.  Grabbing your hips and slowly lifting them until your knees have to shuffle up to compensate.  He still keeps your head buried in the pillow, though, still keeps the upper half of your body firmly pressed against the floor.  You pant into the fabric half covering your face and fist the blanket underneath you, biting your lip and clenching your thighs as two hands carefully settle along the backs of them.

Fuck, he keeps you there for so long.  He drags out the anticipation until you’re downright hurting for it, waiting with your ass up in the air for him to do something—anything to help relieve your stress instead of continuing to build upon it.

“Fuck—” he whispers, “—missed you, too.”

When his hot, velvety tongue finally glides through your slit, something about it makes you moan brokenly into the pillow, spread your knees and arch your back even more in presentation.  Fuck, there’s just something about the mindblowing eroticism of your positioning right now, how you’re bent in half and letting him lick through your folds however is easiest for him, something about it hits just right and makes your orgasm suddenly pull up tight and fast.

“Din—” you breathe frantically, your knees shuffling apart and your hips pushing back against his mouth.  “Din, I’m gonna cum—”

His hands come up to clamp around your thighs and hold them steady.  And then he lowers his chin to seal his mouth over your clit, slowly dragging his slick tongue over it, again and again and again, and fuck, you can’t do anything to stop it.  Everything surges up, searing hot and wet as you go rigid and gasp his name, shuddering your way through the debilitating bliss as it arcs brilliantly up and down your spine.

By the time you’re finished, you’re slumped against the floor in exhaustion.  He pulls away and sits up, and you try to push yourself up too, but a large palm firmly flattening along your spine stops you.  The sound of him spitting and the subsequent slick glide of his hand around his cock makes you groan hoarsely against the pillow and relax back down again.

Din eases his way inside you and the thickness of him as he slowly breaks you open is fucking electrifying.  Your sensitive channel hugs tight to every fucking inch of him, lighting your nerves up from the inside and sending skittering shocks down your thighs.  You melt into the floor and take what he gives you until his hips touch your ass, sagging against the ground as he stands so tall and upright on his knees behind you.

When he slowly pulls back out, you can hear the wet sound it makes echo throughout the pitch black hull.  Maker, he just starts up a slow, steady rhythm, his steel grip on your ass holding you steady as he pushes in and out of you.  It’s blinding, making you writhe against the floor while he gives you his cock at a languid pace, dragging the pleasure out but snapping his hips against yours whenever he does reach the apex of his strong thrusts.

It’s as agonizing as it is blissful, and you moan softly into the pillow the entire way through it.  Except—you’re too full of mindless pleasure, too stimulated to want to remain stationary for this long.  You need to move, you need to show him how much you thought about him while he was gone.  

“Din—” you whimper, breathless and needy, turning your head back slightly to unmuffle your words.  “Turn over.”

“In a second,” he huffs, his cock continuing to steadily rock into you.  You’re bent in half, taking it the only way he’ll give it to you and not even being able to push back into him.  “No—l-later.  After.”

You whine, frustrated, clawing and pulling at the blankets under your arms.  “Please—”

“Fuck,” Din pants, “fuck, what do you need?  You need it faster?”  His speed kicks up the slightest bit, and stars, you have to bite the back of your hand to muffle the ragged noise you make in response.  “This what you need?  Tell me.”

There’s not a good way to phrase it.  Mostly, you just… feel the need to participate in this more directly.  You know from experience that he likes to finish when he’s on top, but after weeks apart, you… you need to be what makes him cum, not what he holds steady and uses to get himself there.  

Your voice comes out frantically, pleading gasps for him to grant you this one thing.  “Just turn over, please—pleasepleasepleaseplease—”

His thrusts falter, until they stop completely.  He sounds like he’s having as much trouble breathing as you are, but his hard grip on you gradually loosens.  “You—do you not—?”

You don’t let him finish.  As soon as he lets you go, you’re pushing yourself up and turning around, grabbing his shoulders and all but wrestling him down to the cushioned blanket.  Din grunts and lets you do it, dropping down onto his back and snaking his hands up your naked chest as you climb over him with weak, trembling limbs.  Once you get his cock into position and sink down though—fuck, you grab his wrists and yank them up until his palms are cupping your tits, and Din hisses below you.  Your hands are barely large enough to wrap around the backs of his, but you force him to squeeze them nonetheless, and then you begin to ride him in earnest.

He curses, bracing his feet against the floor and shifting his knees behind you, and then he starts pushing his hips up into yours in time with your downward rolls.  Maker, he hits something deep inside you at the angle, something that makes you gasp every time your hips meet.  Your palms drag down his wrists and forearms as he keeps groping your breasts, throwing your head back in ecstasy as another orgasm starts to stir somewhere low in your core.

“Stars, I—I think I m-might—” You barely have enough time to gasp it out before he’s releasing your breasts and anchoring his grip tight to your hips, beginning to angle and isolate in on that one spot that drives you fucking crazy.  The strong thrusts pull you forward until your palms are braced on the floor next to his head, and you just moan and push back against it as he fucks deep into you.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Din says again, his disembodied voice sounding tighter and more desperate in the darkness, like it’s coming out against his will.  “I—I missed you, t-too, sweet girl, I f-fucking—missed—”

You choke out a cry as another wave of euphoria all but fucking evicerates you.  Your elbows buckle and you fall into his chest, but Din wraps both arms around your back and keeps fucking you through it, gritting breathless curses at the ceiling as your cunt spasms around his cock.

“Tho—ught about you—” he groans, husky and low next to your ear, “every… fuck, every fucking day—thought about y—”

His body tenses and his thrusts stutter to a halt, and then he grinds up into you, gasping your name into the pitch black hull.  Your body is crushed into his chest when his hips jerk against yours, and you bite his shoulder in satisfaction, squeezing hard around his throbbing cock.

When Din finally settles back down to the floor again, both of you are spent.  Neither one of you fucking move.  You don’t say anything while you catch your breath against his chest, slumping down into him as his knees suddenly drop flat.

“Fuck,” he breathes.  “Fuck.  I’m.  I’m never taking a bounty on Coruscant again.”

You laugh lightly, swallowing and turning your head to settle in the crook of his neck.  Your knees shuffle up slightly until you’re resting all your weight on top of him, his cock still engulfed in your hot center.  As soon as you lift off him, you know you’re just going to dribble a mess all over these nice blankets, so you decide to put it off for as long as he allows it.

Din doesn’t seem to have a problem with it at all.  In fact, his chest shifts just slightly beneath you when he reaches down to catch one of the blankets and pull the fabric over the both of you, collapsing back into the pillow with an exhausted sigh and doing absolutely nothing to encourage you to move whatsoever.

“Corellia was worse,” you tell him instinctually, and he grunts and brings his hands up to trail his fingers along your lower back.

“Corellia was over within a day,” he points out, and.  Shit.  You know he’s just being diplomatic about it, but something in the way he casually brushes it off suddenly makes you go quiet.  He’s right, you probably weren’t on Corellia for more than a few hours total.  Not that you necessarily expected him to, but he clearly doesn’t realize the events that took place there have haunted you for weeks.

When you don’t immediately say something in response, Din stops dragging his fingers up your spine.  You can feel his chin lower slightly, his jaw brush against your forehead.  “You oka—?”

“I killed someone on Corellia,” you whisper, and your words hang heavy in the still air immediately afterwards.  “A man is dead because of me.”

He doesn’t speak.  For a long time, Din doesn’t speak.

By the time his voice eventually does come through the darkness, you’d almost convinced yourself he wasn’t going to say anything at all.

“You’re right,” he tells you bluntly, brushing your hair back from your shoulder.  And, for some reason, you’re not expecting it.  If you were able to get a verbal reply out of him at all, you… you hoped he’d argue with you even just a little bit, if only to make you feel even the slightest bit better.  “A man is dead, and you killed him.”

Though his voice is soft and you know he’s not being intentionally cruel, it’s like he reached through your ribcage and crushed your heart himself.  Your shoulders tense at the feeling, wanting to instinctively curl yourself inwards and make yourself smaller in response to it.  Only, Din’s broad chest prevents it.  All you can do is hide your face as best you can in his neck and let the unfiltered truth weigh heavy on you in the silent hull.

“But you’re wrong about one thing,” he eventually says.  “He’s not dead because of you.  That implies you had a choice.  You didn’t.  He’s dead because of him.  He gave you an ultimatum, and you did what you had to do.  Don’t feel bad that you won.”

“I didn’t win anything,” you whisper against his throat, uncomfortable with the implication.

“He initiated a confrontation, and you finished it,” he asserts.  “You did what you had to do, and you did great, so don’t—”

“Great?”  You close your eyes and try not to sound as upset as you currently feel, because you know this is just him being polite.  He does this for a living.  He’s probably lost count of how many people he’s killed in his lifetime, so what’s one body to him?  You shouldn’t have let the conversation lead here, especially after such a lovely moment.  “I… I’m sorry.  I shouldn’t have brought it—”

“Listen to me,” Din suddenly says, curling the tips of his fingers against your shoulder blade.  “There’s something you need to understand, and I’m not trying to hurt your feelings by telling you this.  But the galaxy will never be as kind to you as you are to it.  You’re tenderhearted, and that’s not a bad thing.  Hang onto it, but recognize that it’s rare.  It’s not something that you’ll come by often.  You’ll never see as much of it in anyone else as I see in you.”

Maybe it’s because you know he’s not used to comforting people that the words actually manage to make you feel somewhat comforted.  They’re blunt and honest, but they also allow an unobstructed glimpse into his feelings for you, specifically because of that.

“I just…”  You bite your lip and snuggle your head deeper into the crook of his neck.  “I just wish I could… somehow…”

His chest expands fully with air underneath you, and then you can literally feel yourself slowly sink down a few inches with how deeply he sighs.  But… this isn’t the normal Mando sigh.  He doesn’t sound frustrated with you, exasperated, or impatient.  He sounds… empathetic.  Understanding.

His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head and comb his fingers through your hair, tugging at some of the tangles at your nape.  “What would you have done differently?”

You don’t answer him, because you immediately see what he’s getting at.  You’ve told yourself these things a million times over in the weeks he’s been gone.  Regardless, he goes on for you.

“Would you have chosen to land the ship in a different spot?  Risked a different person following you onto it?”  He asks, and though the overarching point to this line of questioning is already blatantly obvious, his voice is still kind.  “Would you have taken that vibroblade to a different part of his body?  Given him a slower death?  What else would you have done, sweet girl?”

You stay silent, fluttering your eyes shut.  His fingers lazily trail up and down the length of your spine, goosebumps breaking out on your skin once again.

“Even if there was something you could’ve done—even if his death had been your fault,” Din murmurs, “—listen, do you remember what you said to me?  When I told you my name—before that, do you remember what you said?  You said that some things just belong to people.  That there are certain things that people just own, right?  Fundamentally.  And you can do whatever you want with them.  You can choose whether or not to share them with others, you can hide them, or you can.  Change them.  Burn them away.  Remember?”

You nod as much as you can with your head buried into his neck like this.

“Well, you’re right,” he continues, his voice softening.  “Some things do belong to people.  But some things… some things you can’t change.  Some things you can’t hide, and you can’t just burn away forever.  But that doesn’t make them any less yours, understand?  You killed someone.  It doesn’t matter what I tell you, or what you tell yourself.  The end result won’t ever change.  It can't change.  You own that now, and you’ll carry his death with you.  Just like I carry every single one of mine.”

He’s… he’s right.  You don’t have to like it, but he’s right.

“I don’t like it when you quote me to me,” you eventually whisper, your lips brushing his throat.

“Too bad.  I got another one for you,” Din rumbles, and you can feel his gentle smile against your hairline as he tilts his head and presses his lips to your temple.  “The Way says no take-backs.”

You narrow your eyebrows into this perfect little corner of him, not liking how curt and unapologetic it sounds rolling off his tongue.  “Did I say that?”

“Yep,” he huffs at the ceiling.  “Half-asleep, yet observant enough to be annoying.”

Your mouth twists, trying to appear visibly offended in the pitch blackness for some reason but fighting back a smile.  “Would you rather I be oblivious and adorable?”

“No,” he says immediately, and then you blink a few times in the darkness at the sincerity in his tone.  “You’re smart.  Well—you’re an idiot sometimes, but you’re smart.  That’s good.  That’s your best weapon.  Use it.”

“Use it?”  You ask, your voice quiet but curious.  “For what?”

He takes a second before responding, his fingers continuing to trace gentle, subconscious shapes along the curve of your spine.  “What planet are we going to next?”

The abrupt change in subject is stark and immediately noticeable, but you wrack your memory for the coordinates you brought up earlier when he was in the fresher nonetheless.  “Naboo.”

“I was thinking,” Din says, shifting just the slightest bit under you.  You groan when you realize his cock is still inside you, soft but still gorgeously thick enough to not slip out.  “Might… might be a good idea to show you some things.  Give you a few self-defense tips before I head out again.  Naboo is one of the safest planets in the galaxy.  We can… take a few days.”

“Yeah?”  You breathe, a spark of excitement bringing an immediate smile to your face.

“Yeah,” he repeats softly, the scruff on his jaw rubbing against your temple as he nods.  “Been awhile.”

“Okay,” you bite your lip on a grin and try not to let him hear the happiness in your voice.  Fuck, a few days.  A few days he’s delaying his job to spend with you.  Maybe you’ll be able to sleep on an actual mattress at some point.  You truly can’t fucking wait.

You two stay like that for quite a long time, just resting and breathing with each other in the pitch black hull.

“We just wouldn’t have gone to Corellia, how about that?”  You find yourself saying after a moment of comfortable silence.  When Din doesn’t speak, you elaborate.  “You asked me what I would’ve done differently.  We just wouldn’t have gone to Corellia.  Avoided the whole fucking sector altogether, like I plan on doing for the rest of my life.”  

And then your whole body abruptly jerks up and down exactly once with his genuinely amused huff of laughter from underneath you.

Your expression immediately narrows.  This is the third time you’ve ever made him laugh in all the months you’ve known him, and somehow all three of them have been at your own expense.  “What’s funny?”

“Absolutely.  You could’ve—” he clears his throat, “—convinced me.  Not to hunt down a bounty.”

He doesn’t make a sound beyond that, and had you not been laying on top of his chest as it subtly vibrated with stifled chuckles, you wouldn’t have known at all that he found that to be so funny.

“I could’ve… wooed you,” you try after a second, and nope.  You feel like you’re on top of a silent, quaking faultline now, and you do your best to keep a frown on your face as you rock back and forth on top of him.  His cock almost slips out of you in the commotion.  Almost.

“Get some sleep, you sweet talker,” he eventually sighs when he calms his breathing, kissing your forehead and settling back down into the blankets.  “The kid will be up in a few hours, probably less.”

“He’s your son,” you grumble, still sulking somewhat at his blatant disregard of your seduction talents.  “Takes after you.  For all I know he looks just like you, too.”

“Sleep,” Din tells you, bringing a hand up to cup the back of your head and push it deeper into the crook of his neck.  “That’s enough talking.”

You stomp down the playful urge to bite him and settle into him instead, closing your eyes and breathing him in.  Fuck.  A few days on Naboo.  You’ve only heard nice things about the beautiful planet.  You wonder if it has an ocean.  Could a planet be called beautiful if it doesn’t have at least one?  You’ve seen rivers and lakes on planets Din has taken you to, but there was always land on the other side.  You’ve never seen an actual ocean before, you’ve only heard about them.  Water, as far as the eye can see.  There has to be an ocean on Naboo, right?

“Hey Din, are there any—”

“Stop.”

It’s alright, you’ll ask later.

[face-turn]

All the Flowers (turn to face the sun)

Pairing: Gen; the Shield and its brotherly homoeroticism notwithstanding Words: 1.3k Rating: PG, for Dean’s mouth A/N: While this is technically not complete, I don’t know where else it’s going, so I’m setting it free. Also I’ve been gone for two years what of it. 

The safehouse this time is barely more than a shoebox, a single bedroom with an alleyway window opening up into a tiny living room and a galley kitchen. They never really expect comfort-- they pay for security, for secrecy, not for luxury-- but even Dean has to admit this is a little sad. 

Except. On the windowsill of that tiny little window, a pot of ivy creeps halfheartedly up the screen. It’s just a little one, maybe some kinda ornamental thing, but Dean is fucking fascinated. They’ve never been here before, because somehow Rollins has matched and surpassed Dean’s paranoia, but nonetheless Dean is compelled to carefully water it, to weed the little thing and to turn it a little to help it catch what meagre sunlight peeks over the sharp shadows of the neighboring building. 

“It’s just a weed,” Reigns says, and he says it like he’s an expert on weeds and not-weeds and hey, Dean, have you ever considered being a person with a working brain for once? 

Well. He doesn’t say that last part. Dean infers it. 

“Yeah?” Dean says, focusing on picking tiny blades of grass out of the pot and flicking them into Reigns’ hair when he’s not looking. “Well, s’lasted this long on its own. Think maybe I was a weed in another life?” 

Reigns looks at him with his startling grey eyes. “Yeah,” He says. “Well, you’re like some kind of weird mold now, so I guess it’s not too--” 

Their ensuing scuffle is interrupted by Rollins coming back, slipping into the back door like a shadow. The look on his face says trouble, which means a job, which means Dean flicks one last piece of dirt into Reigns’ hair and stands up, brushing his hands off on his pants.

When they come back, month and change later, the plant is gone. That’s okay. Dean is used to things that don’t last. 

--

The motel’s on the very outskirts of town, vacancy sign flickering dolefully in the foggy dark. They’re outside of Atlanta-- or Aurora, or Akron, or Augusta. Dean’s lost track of all the places they’ve paced through, hackles up and snarling. They blur together when you never stop and someone else pays the bills.

The pool out front’s been drained and there’s only a couple of cars out front, but the lights are on and this is the address Punk gave them. Rollins is dozing on his feet, swaying into Dean’s shoulder every so often, and Reigns is tweaked out of his mind on Modafinil, muscles shivering ever-so-slightly with barely restrained get-up-and-go. 

Dean’s always had a better stomach for uppers, already has most of the side effects wired into his biology and doesn’t get ‘em better or worse when he’s on stims. He’s the one who bundles them out of the car, drags them staggering into the lobby to pick up a room key. He assures the man at the desk that no, sir, he’s certainly Mr. Punk, sir, yes that is his birth name, yes he certainly can produce an I.D., if you’ll give him just a moment. 

There’s only one bed, because C.M. Punk is some kinda penny pinching motherfucker when he’s not paying their fees, but it doesn’t matter. Dean’s slept on worse than dirty carpets, and at least there’s a roof. He hefts Rollins-- Seth, he guesses, because it’s hard to keep it casual when you’re unlacing a guy’s boots-- onto the bed while Reigns mumbles something incoherent and stumbles off, possibly to die in the shower. 

Dean’s still got the urge to move shoving at him. He drapes his dog tags across the old alarm clock-- Reigns will get it or he won’t-- and secures the room as best he can before slipping out the door. It’s gone from foggy to rainy, drops bouncing off cracked asphalt and turning the whole place into a shitty, muddy slip-n-slide. A cluster of pretty girls are gathered around the Coke machine, short shirts and shorter skirts and the kind of high-pitched laughter that’ll kill a man’s confidence at a hundred paces. 

It’s too rainy to walk, Dean guesses. 

“Hey mister,” One calls, kind of sarcastic, and her friends break back down into laughter. She’s wearing a flower in her hair, rain-dropped and vibrant even under the shitty fluorescent lights. 

“Evening ma’am,” Dean replies, doffing an invisible cap. He doesn’t approach, because he’s not interested or capable of buying what they’re selling. 

They don’t seem too put out about it. Dean’s looking kind of rough, he admits, five days unshaved and hands still wrapped to the wrist. He definitely wouldn’t wanna see himself in a dark alley, that’s for fuckin’ sure. 

“You looking for anything?” The girl with the flower asks, cocking her hip in defiance of the weather and his distance. 

“Only the ice machine,” He demurs, and they laugh at him again. He smiles, so he’s in on the joke. 

There’s no ice machine, they all cheerfully inform him, which is okay because Dean didn’t really need ice anyway, just something to do with his hands until the mania steps back a little and lets forty sleepless hours take the reins. 

It takes a lap or two of the complex to settle down. He scopes out all the easy exits on the first go around, because he can’t help it, and then the harder exits, because his mind still needs something to work on. 

It’s late-late by the time he trudges back up to the door, instead of just late. He taps the door softly, pattern set in his bones after all this time practicing. It’s a minute before the return knock comes, a password and response that’s as familiar as breathing. When the door swings open for Dean to slip inside, Reigns is there, sleepy and still damp from his shower. 

He also looks hilariously pissed off. 

“No hot water?” Dean guesses, and is immediately rewarded with a snarl that would make a tiger jealous. He slips the travel lock back into place, locks and double locks and bolts the door behind him, kicks the door stop into place and slides the safety lock in, too. It won’t keep out someone who’s desperate to get in, but it’ll give them a little bit of time to wake up. 

“Seth’s gonna bitch so much,” Reigns says, squeezing out his hair and starting on his nightly ritual untangling. “Boy’s like a lapdog.” 

Dean makes a noise of agreement, watching Seth’s back rise and fall with his slow breaths. Something about him just screams that he was made to be pampered. Maybe the sly hints of a good family life. 

“We’re gonna let him find out on his own.” Dean says, settling onto the foot of the bed and fighting against the weight of his eyelids. 

“Yessir,” Reigns says, plaiting his hair up quick and laying one hand, still cool from his cold shower, onto Dean’s forehead. “C’mon, babe, get up and brush your teeth. We got a spare.” 

Dean hoists himself up, because of course now he’s tired. Brushing his teeth and splashing his face with water is a blur, and when he finally passes out he doesn’t even remember that there’s only one bed, after all. 

When they leave the next day, Seth bright-eyed and bushy-tailed from his surprisingly chilly wakeup shower, the girl’s flower is in a puddle by the soda machine, pretty and only a little bit stepped on. Dean wavers before stooping to pick it up, fragile and wet and almost weightless. 

Reigns looks back over his shoulder, cocking an eyebrow up in that stoically judgmental way that he has, but doesn’t say anything to Dean, just keeps bullying Seth’s salty ass back to the car. Dean pets at the petals one more time before letting the flower fall back into its puddle, where it floats and spins endlessly in a reflection of the star-speckled dawn.

[askbittyerror]

Wedding RP part 9

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 Blue has decided the wise thing to do is clearly to retreat closer to the tree. And wonder at how their kiddo manages to take more after them than they even are themself.(edited)

JusticeMom09/27/2020 {the sounds of boot steps suddenly rise above the din of noise} You are not used to such chaos I am guessing {The guardian said walking over. He can see why Bells called themselves their mother's double. Almost identical} Hello you are Bells's mother~ {Not exactly a question as the guardian gives a slight bow}

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 Blue blinks, looks up... and up... "Oh, I'm used to chaos. But this much chaos tends to lead to me either being murdered, or someone just trying to, not realizing theyre a hundred years late for that ride." ...maybe a little blunt. "Um. But, yes. I am."

JusticeMom09/27/2020 {He offers his hand and when he gets theirs he actually gives it a small kiss. He is without his gauntlet today. No need for it at a wedding but his gloves are of a supple leather and soft to the touch} I suppose that is true. Sadly I guess this is the chaos we bring. Its nice to finally meet you Blue. It is not often I get the honor to meet the maker ... or origin of any of my lovers

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "..." yeah, they werent expecting that. "I wish i could take credit for that," they deny quietly, not drawing their hand away, "but even if they were made with my magic, I'm not their maker." "...origin though," a smile, if faint, as they lift their gaze to his again, "maybe. part anyway."

feather bean💙09/27/2020 a feather arives over here

JusticeMom09/27/2020 {He grins} You have a good soul. They take after you greatly. It is only recently they have become more ... assertive. Its like night and day honestly how much Bells has grown since I have met them {He chuckled} I am happy though I get to meet you without you wanting to punch me {gasp a Feather has arrived! Dream looks to them and smiles more} Feather. It has been a long time small one

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "Wait, pun-" "...Feather?" Oh. An asker... a child asker? Huh. "Hi Feather, i'm Blue." Meanwhile theyre only more puzzled by their offspring's relationships... apparently though, it somehow works for them? ...that kind of makes the whole taking near death in stride a little easier to believe. "...why did they want to punch you?"

feather bean💙09/27/2020 "hi blue!" they wave at blue and then to dream "it has- sorry for not visiting much-"

JusticeMom09/27/2020 {He hummed} Its alright you have your reasons. Shame though I dont have any treats for you {he chuckles and looks at Blue winking about their first comment} Because they were upset about Ink and the state he was in so when I got back everyone came to break my face for a bit for his honor

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...Ink." they echo, naturally thinking of the bitty version they knew, but pretty sure that's not who he meant. "..." they consider Feather, then Juice, then simply, "So... are you one of my son in laws too?"(edited)

feather bean💙09/27/2020 Pats for dream "is ok If you don't have any treats for me-"

JusticeMom09/27/2020 {He chuckles} Ah but I enjoy spoiling the younger askers when they come { He looks back to Blue and hums} I think that is a yes because if I say anything other than that Bells will probably personally kick my ass {He says this with great amusement}

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 The bitties watch silently, Mercury still in excited-want-hug vibration mode and Paladin and Magnus staring at Juice with no small amount of wariness.

salty darkness09/27/2020 Nintendo takes a moment or two to actually process Juice's words- mainly because he's busy trying to stop Archer from getting at the cake. Eventually, he bundles the smol into his arms, turning around and begrudgingly walking over to his boyfriend, and the group he's amassed. "..." "Hi."

feather bean💙09/27/2020 feather waves to Nintendo "hi-"(edited)

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "...fair. I think." It sounded like he was joking, and not even in an unfamiliar way. in fact they'd probably laugh if, well, all that hadn't just happened.

the sight of the very tall comparitively to what they're used to, anyway Ink sort with purple wings, gives them pause. very little, admittedly, and more surprise than anything, before they offer a smile to him too.

"Are you the Ink whose honor Bells was ready to defend?"

salty darkness09/27/2020 The apparently-tall-Ink snorts, leaning on Juice's shoulder. The baby in his arms babbles, reaching out to greet and probably try and hug all of these new friends and faces.

"No, clearly I'm a destroyer of worlds come to murder you for daring to even look in my direction." a small laugh. "...I'm their brother. And you are?"

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 "I'm Magnus, their Dad." Mangus points to himself. "Blue is my mate and their mom." "Paladin. His brother, their uncle." Paladin nods, not taking his eyes off Juice for a second. "Domino," Domino nuzzles his mate. "And Licorice. Grandparents. May I hug you?" "Mercury!" Mercury absolutely vibrates, barely contained in Jabber's arms. "Brother also! Want hug you and also bab please please please please?" "I'm Jabber." Jabber smiles, trying to keep his mate from just combusting with excitement. "I'm his mate." "Gold." Gold peeks out. "Beryl." Beryl smiles, hugging him. "We're Mercury's brothers."

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 The baby catches their attention first, a smile instantly loghting up their face, before his words register. "brother?" They look interested now. "Bells has mentioned you! um, not in more than passing, but... things have been, busy." A bit apologetically? "um, anyway... I'm Blue. mom, apparently. which I wasn't expecting, but... I'm, not really opposed to either. They seem, good." even if they make a solid point not to think too hard about where they came from

feather bean💙09/27/2020 oh Lots of people are here- they Wave to all of them -

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 Magnus and Paladin immediately nuzzle. "You okay, beloved?" Magnus asks gently.

salty darkness09/27/2020 Nintendo is quiet for a few seconds, just kinda absorbing information... and watching the bitties. Archer babbles, reaching out to hug, and he lets them.

"..." "First of all, I already have a dad, so you're going to have to share."

A huff, and he curls his wings around, fiddling with the circlet on his head. "Second of all, the Omniverse is already stupid and crazy, so more extended family might as well happen." He watches Blue for a moment, narrowing his eyes. "...are you okay?"

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 "..." they nuzzle Magnus for comfort, before admitting, "mostly. waking up one day to find out you've had a kid, with something like that... thing... without consent or awareness, and you've apparently missed their entire life, and-"

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 More nuzzles from the entire family.

JusticeMom09/27/2020 {Dream looks amused pulling Ink closer to himself kissing his jaw. he lets the group talk before he looks to Blue...  his aura suddenly is there. something warm and comforting like being rapped up in a blanket right out of the dryer. He was able to actually pick and choose whom his aura touches. Ink as always only senses it but not feeling it. there is a strange potency to his aura compared to all the ones Blue has been around. one dream taught to be a warrior and angry, one too young to realize that he had or would have such powers. and the bitty... well its like a fine aged wine compared to a young vintage. they were the "same" but not the same}(edited)

feather bean💙09/27/2020 they Pat blue

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 The words fall quiet, as they nuzzle their family, one at a time, before turning back to Juice again. There's a long moment of just looking at him- then they smile. "Thank you, but that isn't necessary. My family does the same when I have a panic attack, but-" "- but shy of that, I'd sooner try to come to terms with my emotions myself, when I can. I hope that makes sense?" The child gets a soft pat back, if a bit distracted. Child askers are a new one on them... but, chikd, and offering comfort. "And thank you too."

feather bean💙09/27/2020 "its No Problem"

salty darkness09/27/2020 Archer wraps their arms around Blue, nuzzling and flapping their wings. Good smol. Comforting smol.

Nintendo gives Juice a vaguely upset look, but doesn't elaborate beyond that. "..." "Ahem. Uh. Yeah. Nice to meet you, and... stuff."

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 Baby... distracting baby. Cute wonderful happy adorable- -nothing against Juice's aura, but this? this is much more effectively disttacting.

JusticeMom09/27/2020 {he looks amused. automatic reaction as his aura is and all} This is Archer {He adds watching Blue take him and cuddle him} they are Ink and my and Erebus's bab

with-bells-upon09/27/2020 aaand again with the pause, looking from him to Nintendo to baby, and back. "...my surprise kiddo has made themself an interesting family tree, haven't they?"

salty darkness09/27/2020 Nintendo shrugs. "My boyfriend- Juice- fused with Erebus to create an entirely new being called Morpheus. I slept with said being. Now there's Archer." "...and now I have two boyfriends."

Happy Archer! Such a happy Archer! Happy Archer with a very happy aura!

Askbittyerror09/27/2020 The bitties, all but Magnus and Paladin, seem to relax at Juice's aura, smiling happily. Magnus and Paladin nuzzle their person, growling softly, auras rising, pushing back the best they can.

JusticeMom09/27/2020 {Its not Juice's aura they have to worry about its the melt the person happy baby aura who makes anyone not used to it a useless giddy lump for a bit that has to be worried about.} Archer {Dream says trying to catch the happy child off guard to loose his hold on his aura} and probably more of a. find very chaotic timelines only to build a family out of them

[slothgiirl]

forever isn’t for everyone part 10

We all head straight to the hotel, just in time for the first interviews of the day; throwing Jamie and Miles to the wolves. It's a nice place, that we won't enjoy. Having lost a day means that after using the hotel for interviews, we'll have to run to the venue. Only Lucy and the two band members get off at the hotel. 

The rest of us, unlucky as we are, have to get and attempt a soundcheck down half our crew. It's hell. 

Made worse at the thought of Alex holed up in the tour bus as we rush around. Unbothered by work as he's just Miles' plus one. Having stayed up all night with Miles, playing guitar and making my head want to explode as I'd laid in my bunk, thinking about how deft his hands on the strings were. Working myself up and worst of all-- missing him. 

Lucy had been right. I text her as much only to hear a snort above me. Unhelpful in everything except gossip. 

By the time Miles and Jamie get back, having been grilled to hell and back, Jamie looking like the worlds most uncomfortable toddler who's cheeks have been pinch way too many times by strangers, most of the set up has been done. The California sun beating down on us as we enjoy munching on the food set up for us. 

It's one of those days when I could care less if it's any good. That fucking hungry. 

Miles keeps glancing down at his phone, a bundle of nervous energy instead of the usual chaotic energy. He reminded me so of the boys in school who would talk back to the teacher and cause riots of laughter among students. He gets up, grabbing another beer and pacing around the room before collapsing into a chair once more. 

It's making me nervous. 

"You alright Miles," I venture, when he sits down by me, frowning down at his phone. 

"Yeah. Yeah," he says dismissively, not bothering to look up from his phone. "Just peachy doll."

I roll my eyes, but persevere. Part of my job is too make sure the talent's holding up. And we might not be friends outside of work, but you can't live on the road for weeks with people and just not care about them. "You're calling me doll. Now I'm really worried."

He laughs humorlessly. "It's all right Ellie. Really."

"Is it Alex?"

Miles' eyes pierce my gaze, the goblin child mirth absent in lieu of surprise. "No. No. sort of." He glances down at the ground, at the carpet the color of cat vomit, whose original color had been lost to time. "He's just got a bit of a headache. That's all."

"Right," I reply, unconvinced by his slippery gaze and the airy tone. 

" 'm sorry about whatever happened between you two," he utters bluntly. "Say the word and I'll send him away.”

"You don't really mean that," I note, fiddling with my thumbs, unable to hold his gaze now as color rises to my cheeks, "or else you'd have offered at the start of the tour. Not two weeks before it ends in south america."

"Technically," Miles counters, pointing his finger right at me, "its just a break before the festivals.  I can make do with out 'im." 

"I highly doubt that," I remark. Everything's in order in the venue. I'll give myself this one night to skip the concert. While people watching could be fun, and there was nothing like the energy of a live band filling the venue with hundreds of screaming fans, I was a bit over it tonight. Having spent the majority of yesterday in the same confined area with Alex, and being careful not to make it too obvious I was avoiding him, had drained me. 

I walk out the door and into the warm summer night. It was a nice change from Utah. The city bathed in lights as the sun set. Just like that an entire summer gone by. Tomorrow was a second show. Then Pomona. Then San Diego  Soon we'd be in South America and then onto Europe. Miles had been wrong, there was only a week before Europe. 

I let out a breathe as I wish for the first time in my life for a cigarette. All this traveling with a rock band and I'd finally picked up some bad habits. I walk down sunset strip and right into a liquor, wishing I had thought to nick some of the cigarette boxes that filled an entire bowl backstage. Thank god for riders. And next year I'd be doing it all over again with another band. The thought filled me with dread. I'd gotten used to Nick and Jamie. To Ben and Miles who often ended up ontop of tables dancing and dunk and pulling Alex up along with him. 

As soon as I take a drag, I can feel the knot inside my chest begin to ease up. More and more neon signs light up. It's not Vegas, with its kitchy over the top theatrics, but Los Angeles feels like every noir detective movie I'd seen. It's so much like the grimy and cheesy eighties action movies set in these very streets. If not for the actual stale smell of actual garbage. The cars honking every five seconds.

Streets clogged like heart arteries with cars. 

I slip into the first bar I find that's playing loud music. The strokes. God, how I used to dance around my room to their music at one in the mornings instead of finishing my assignments. 

"What can I get for you," the bartender, young, maybe only a year older than me, asks in her vocal fry Californian way. 

"rum and coke," I reply. 

"I love your accent," she replies, already pouring out the cheap rum and coke. I set down a ten-er and find a seat in a small alcove, the crushed velvet seat smelling thickly of cheap beer and cigarette smoke. I slump in my seat and watch people come in and out. 

At least I'd seen the TLC Chinese theater on the way in. Even got a picture that wasn't completely blurry at a red light. Months into the tour and my will to go sight see was dead. My feet would not, refused to even think, of walking another two miles down to the famous street. 

I was almost for sure spending my week off curled up in my bed watching random reality tv shows. 

After my rum and coke I grab a cranberry vodka, feeling like a teenager who'd taken a juice box to school. 

The door opens and a familiar face walks in, already chatting up a girl. It's Alex, with the sort of charisma that takes weeks of hacking at his reserved nature to get through. The girl, a acid blonde, is eating it up, giggling against his shoulder as they order drinks. 

It's heartbreak all over again.  

Instead of doing the rational thing, and leaving before I cry in a random bar, I sit there and watch. Watch as he wraps his arm around her, curling his fingers around her waist. She leans into him, laughing loudly like all these Americans do. Stumbling a little as they take a table by the entrance. Alex smiles evenly, even as she wipes tears of laughter from her eyes. 

Shouldn't he be at the concert with his bezzie mate? 

I swallow back bitterness. It's been three months. Plenty of time to have gotten over him if I hadn't been on the road with him for all of that time. That was all. As soon as this tour was over I'd never have to see his face again. 

Even if I wanted to. 

Even if my heart still fluttered when he smiled softly, eyes sparkling with delight as he got absorbed in the conversation. In Miles and even Matt to some extent. He was charming despite his distant nature. The very picture of having your head in the clouds. The dreaminess only made him that much more appealing. I down the rest of my drink, feeling my throat burn, before resolving to leave. This was a sign I should go to the Chinese theater. Get a photo of me among the walk of fame. Why torture myself about Alex? 

He'd been an ass. I had to remind myself of that night, of the week leading up to it when he wouldn't even give me an explanation for why meeting up for breakfast was too much for him. 

When I look up, they're gone. 

I sigh in relief. 

The night in LA is less black, then a midnight blue. The light pollution illuminating even the grimiest corner. I start to walk in the direction of the crowd. Even at eight, the street was as busy as ever. Like New York, like London, this culture capital never slept. It eased any reservations I had about wondering alone at night in a foreign city. 

I'd just get a taxi back to the venue. 

I'm almost down to the light when two figures catch my attention out of the corner of my eye. Down a badly lit alley. There's a homeless woman sleeping at the entrance.

I stop and stare. 

Alex's auburn hair obscuring his features, but I'd know him anywhere. Know the curve of his spine, the way he carried himself, curled in on himself in a way that could only be described as dainty. His lips against the blonde's neck. It's salt in the wound that's been reopened. fuck. I should've stayed behind in Utah. 

I'm about to turn tail and run when my eyes focus on the blonde. Her arms held still by Alex's hands. Back against the wall. It's a red flag ringing in the back of my mind. The flag that my mothers had impressed into my little prepubescent mind, both of them telling me what to do if I ever felt uncomfortable with a man. Both of them biting their nails with each word.

I stride forward without another thought. Jaw clenching shut. 

It doesn't take long to reach them. But my shoe makes an awful crunching sound as I step on a discarded crisps bag. 

Alerting Alex. 

Words well up in my mouth. Stop. What the fuck are you doing. Alex. But they all die on my lips as Alex looks up, his eyes meeting mine. Instead of the caramel color I'm used to, so bloody fond of. . .his eyes like a pair of rubies met mine. A look of utter devastation crosses his fine features. "I can explain," he utters in a rush, lips stained carmine with blood. 

My brain short circuits. Not wanting to make the connection. Not wanting to hear it. I wish I'd stayed. I don't want to know. I don't. Fuck. Jesus fucking christ. 

My mouth can't form words. Can only look from Alex to the hands, still clasped tightly around the blonde. Her smile dazed as she sways, all her weight on him. Alex lets her go. 

She sways like the branches of a willow tree in the wind, almost falling over before the jolt of the fall kicks her back into consciousness. Her eyes widen as she looks at both of us for a tense second. Her mouth widens comically into an O before she screams. 

Alex moves, surging forward and pressing his hand to her mouth, silencing her scream before it can make its way out of the alley and into the trafficked street. He gazes deeply into her frightened eyes. "Forget this night. You had a drink with a stranger and then went home. Now go on. Run back home and sleep the night away." He wipes the last hint of blood from her neck before he lets her go.

Her gaze slacks as he speaks, until the fear retreats. And just like that, like malleable clay, she walks out of the alley, and off into the night. I watch her disappear around the corner. Still shocked silent. 

"El," Alex whispers sadly, much too close for comfort. Having crossed the distance between us while I was distracted. A mistake on my part. A primal terror surging through my mind, telling me to run. To get as far from Alex as possible. "Why'd you have to see?" 

His eyes still unnaturally red.

I shake my head slightly. Aware of his hand reaching for my cheek, frozen in the air, as if held back by some invisible force. "No." I shake my head much more firmly. I don't. I don't want to make the connection consciously that the back of my mind already has. That my mind is insisting of as everything off about him falls into place. 

Alex closes his eyes, taking a step back. "I can let you forget this all if that's what you wish." When he opens his eyes once more, they're back to his normal color. It eases a lump in my throat I hadn't realized had built up. 

This. . .this Alex I might be able to deal with. So much more familiar. If not for the blood on those lips I had spent so many nights kissing.

I rup my temples. "No. No. What the actual fuck."

"El."

"Stay the bloody hell away from me Alex!"

"El please," he pleads, arms held up in a calming motion as though I'm freaking out over nothing. Like he's not a v. . .no. I refuse to go there despite the evidence. "Let's go somewhere to talk."

"I'm not going anywhere alone with you," I spit, stepping back. Wanting to put more distance between us. Had he done that to me? How would I ever even know?

"Of course not," Alex replies, voice wavering, choked full of emotion as he continues, "somewhere crowded-," 

"So you can brainwash me!"

Hurt flashes across his eyes, "I would never hurt you," Alex insists. 

"You already did." I state. Because it had been three months. And Alex, my first serious adult relationship had just-I was left heartbroken. 

He closes his eyes once more sighing. I could run right now. But something more complex than simple fear roots me to this spot in the alley. Alex rubs the bridge of his nose before trying once more.

"El," he sighs with centuries of built up melancholia, "please just listen to me and then you can decide whatever you wish. I'll never bother you again. But El-," his voice breaks. "El I can't refuse for this to be my last memory of you."

My heart flutters, still longing for him even now. Even with the blood drying on his lips. And I can't help but say, "okay."

[theperksofbeingbarbie]

The Empath (Pt2/6)

Summary: Picking up after Klaus comes back from his chat with Reggie, you join the Umbrella Academy as the heat starts turning up under this apocalypse. 

Set during I Heard a Rumour

Warnings: Language; Mention of former overdoses; Mention of CPR

Pairing: Diego x Reader; Platonic!Klaus x Reader

Word Count: 1.436

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6

A/N: So this might suck, but here’s the second part. This is really just kinda setting it up for the big action-y parts. A little bit of banter, the introduction of a stranger into this weird ass family. Feel free to let me know what you think! Do have any thoughts for this going forward?

                                          ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You huffed as you sat in your car, Klaus staring straight ahead in the passenger seat. “You wanna talk-”

“No,” Klaus replied quickly, not giving you a chance to finish your sentence. 

It wasn’t the first time you had to do CPR on Klaus. Hell, you had plenty of overdoses between the two of you. It was, however, the first time you used your powers to push back the group of men that attacked him. The fear of them hurting your best friend was overwhelming, stifling. You didn’t mean to let out that big of a pulse but there were hundreds of people in that building, all of their emotions filling you; it was only a matter of time before you snapped. It was also the first time you were afraid he wouldn’t actually wake up. But in true Klaus fashion, he woke up and just... left, asking where Luther went. You heard someone mention the bouncer kicking him out as you trailed after Klaus. 

“Will you stay at the mansion with me?” Klaus finally requested after a few silent moments in the car, glancing over at you as you started the engine. He had mentioned the impending apocalypse and how he thought you’d be able to help earlier in the evening, it only made sense to stay the night and meet the family, though you could tell he just didn’t want to be alone. 

“I can’t believe you actually slept with the furry,” you commented with an amused laugh as you poured Luther a cup of coffee. 

“Who the hell are you?” Five asked as he took the cup out of Luther’s hand, taking a sip as he sat down, grimacing at the taste. “Who do I have to kill for a decent cup of coffee around here?”

You paused pouring a cup for Ben, glancing up at Klaus. “Why is a literal child talking to me like that?” 

“Now, now, you two. Behave. Five, Luther, this is [Y/N]. [Y/N], this is Luther and Five,” Klaus introduced, handing you the sugar as you sat down, remembering how you liked your coffee. 

“I thought you said this was a family meeting? What are they doing here?” Luther asked, groaning quietly as Klaus tapped the spatula he was holding on the table. 

“[Y/N] is more like family than you realize, dear brother. They’re one of us.”

“Klaus dubbed me the Empath,” you added, taking a sip of your coffee. 

“You can feel people’s emotions,” Five clarified on behalf of Luther’s hungover brain. 

“And do some pretty cool shit with the energy. Like get a group of douche bags off your brother while you dance the night away with a girl,” you added, glaring at Luther who just ducked his head in embarrassment. 

“Okay!” Klaus interrupted before you got more annoyed. “Is this everyone? Has anyone seen Diego or Allison? No? I guess this is as close to quorum we’ll have.” You could feel the empty space behind you grow slightly agitated: Ben didn’t think this was a good idea. “I conjured Dad last night,” Klaus finally admitted with a sigh. 

There was a pause before Luther spoke up, “I thought you haven’t been able to conjure anyone in years?” 

You looked to the space beside you. Did Klaus not tell his family about Ben? Did they not believe Ben was actually there? You couldn’t usually feel the emotions of the deceased, but with the bond Ben and Klaus had, you could feel him as if he was actually there. How could they not believe that Klaus could manage to conjure their brother? 

 “Well, no, but I’m sober now! Yay!” Klaus answered with a smile. 

You stayed quiet as the brothers bickered among themselves, feeling Klaus growing... Sad. They weren’t believing him, they didn’t care that he was clean, he was missing his love. It wasn’t fair. You were about to speak up when Pogo came out of his room. Suddenly the energy went from sadness to anger, confusion. “Luther,” you warned, feeling him growing the most agitated. 

“It was his dying wish, Master Luther,” Pogo said softly, looking down sadly. 

You huffed once everyone went their separate ways, rubbing Klaus’ back as he sat down beside you with a tired sigh. 

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

You were sitting on the end of Klaus’ bed catching up with him as he attempted to knit. He mostly just pulled on the yarn and sighed dejectedly. 

“Get dressed, we’re going out,” Five said as he suddenly came into Klaus’ room. “You too.” 

“Where are we going?” you asked, not making any effort to move because Klaus didn’t. 

“To save the world, of course.” 

“Oh, is that all?” Klaus asked with a playful roll of his eyes as he sat up. 

You climbed out of his bed to find something clean you could borrow, tossing a tie-dye shirt toward him. You hid behind the wardrobe door to change your shirt, appearing a moment later in one of his old band t-shirts. You listened to the pair wonder about their father and how he could’ve known about the end of the world but kept out of it. You followed the brothers out of Klaus’ room pulling on a cardigan that was hanging up by Klaus’ door. Your motley crew stopped when another of their brothers ran by. You quickly figured out it was Diego, your first celebrity crush. How could someone still look so fucking hot? 

“Where have you been?” 

“Jail- don’t ask. Who the fuck are you?” Diego asked as he appeared in the hallway again, pulling his harness on. 

“Does no one in this fucking house know how to say hello like a normal human?” you replied sardonically. “[Y/N]. Klaus’ friend.” 

“Oh, yeah, we met before. I think you were high.” Diego’s eyes dragged over your body, nodding in approval. “You look a lot better now. Has anyone seen Luther?” 

Your cheeks went bright red at the attention from Diego, shaking your head. 

“Haven’t seen him since this morning, why?” 

“Allison’s in trouble.” 

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

After trying a few bars, Klaus managed to find Luther in one close to the Academy. “Look!” You all filed in, standing next to the table as Luther refused to look at any of you. “Trying a little hair of the dog, hm?” 

Diego sat down beside Luther with a huff. “Give us a minute,” he demanded, waving the three away. 

“Yes, daddy,” you drawled, turning on your heel to follow your friend to another table. 

“Don’t make me hear that with my ears ever again,” Klaus growled, causing you to laugh. 

The corner of Diego’s lip quirked at your teasing before he turned his attention to Luther. 

You couldn’t hear much, but it was taking a lot longer than you expected. Klaus even mimed checking his watch to Five who seemed just as confused. Luther was out of his chair a moment later, breaking the door off its hinges as the group ran after him. 

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

“So, you’re one of us?” Diego questioned quietly, looking over at you. There was a bit of time to kill on the drive to Harold Jenkin’s house in the woods and nothing to do. 

You nodded, pulling your foot up onto the seat beneath you. You lowered it a moment later when Diego glared at you. He didn’t mind you sitting in the front with him, as long as you respected his car. “I can feel people’s emotions and use the energy to do things. Anger conjures fire, fear pushes things away from me, and sadness or pain causes things to break. I’ve broken a lot of mirrors because of exes.” You chuckled at the memories, shaking your head a bit.

“Happiness makes them all warm,” Klaus added with a fond smile. 

You laughed again, thinking of all the times Klaus would make you laugh just to act as his personal heater on cold nights. 

“Are you and Klaus....?” Diego inquired awkwardly. 

“No!” you said in unison with your friend. “Jesus, no. I’m single as a Pringle.” 

Five let out an uncomfortable sound at that, causing you to wince. 

“Pringles are always better when you have two stacked together, though,” Diego replied, trying to follow along with your awkward flirting. 

Klaus slowly slid forward, resting his elbows on the back of the seats. “Diego, brother, are you trying to get with my friend?” 

You managed to manifest a little flame on the end of your middle finger, flicking it at Klaus’ forehead, smirking when he yelped. 

“That’s mean!” the medium protested, sitting back in his seat as he rubbed his forehead as if to disperse the heat. Everyone chuckled at the expense of Klaus and for a moment, it wasn’t like the apocalypse was in two days.

                                           ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tag list: @misspygmypie 

Message me to be included on the tag list for upcoming chapters!

[frekydeki]

Cupid Can’t Fall in Love

Part 1

Summary: (AU) Eternal and true love is a business transaction for you. Soulmates are simply two file folders tied together with a golden bow. But when eight folders come across your desk, your job gets a little bit stickier with each passing day. Being a Cupid isn’t so easy as it sounds...

Pairing: (Jihyun x Reader) 

| Part 1 | Part 2: Upcoming 

It’d be beautiful. The golden grass, the falling sun, the gentle and warm wind, the serene silence… It would all be so beautiful if he wasn’t staring into your eyes so tearfully. You trace your eyes over his blue hair and follow the line of his jaw, then his neck, over his collar bone and to his heart. Your e/c eyes widen to the size of the moon; a glowing arrow burns frantically in his chest. You harshly draw in a breath and smack your hand over your own arrow, hammering in your heart.

         You can’t process the tear trailing down your cheek as you turn your eyes away and up to the scattered clouds in the sky. Why? How did this happen? It’s got to be a mistake…

         It’d all be so beautiful… If only you could fall in love.

         How… Did it come to this?

Working for Aphrodite isn’t the most exciting employment option. When you were first born, you took a little bit more to your father’s side, preferring to kick ass here and there. But after a run-in with a seething Achille’s, – you told Zeus to just kill the guy but he insisted you talk it out – you got your butt kicked so bad that even Ares himself worried over you. Your mom said your warrior days were over that day. Nobody defies the word of Aphrodite, after all, and that’s why you’re holed up in this stupid office. Battle armor feels much more natural than the pencil skirt and blouse you’re wearing, but this is what you have now; platform heels, scrunchies, paper cuts, and the sound of typing like chinese water torture to your ears. Lucky you, though! You’ve put in your two millennia to get a personal office, away from all the typing and scratching on parchment; its maybe one of your greatest achievements in the past two thousand years since Aphrodite and Ares put you on the bench.

         This tiny little office is your hell a little bit away from hell, you like to say. You still have mental break downs and panic attack under your desk, and you’ve forgotten what wood your desk is made out of; but at least you get some damn silence. Except for the obnoxious banging on your door that’s happening right now. Is it eight already? The dread of a thousand punished souls in the underworld escapes from your lips in a groan; you barely even filed the cases you finished yesterday. Nevertheless, you roll in your rock hard chair – Hera was kind enough to make you a small cushion, even if it looks like a grandma’s afgan turned cushion, you and your butt love it – to swing your door open at a dangerous speed.

         The young blonde before you smiles and points towards the soft close door.

         “Isn’t it great Ares installed those personally for you?” Her raspy voice sputters to you quickly. Her scrawny finger then points to the coffee mug in your hand, “Hey, is that coffee.”

         “Yeah, what el-“ Your hand becomes lighter as she snatches it from you and takes a long swig.

         “I haven’t slept in like three days,” She babbles to you as she puts the coffee back into your hand and turns to the cart littered with folders, “Finals are next week and I haven’t studied all semester.” You’ve grown used to the incessant mumbling that Angelia lets loose every morning while handing in your cases… She’s like this every week, even without finals. “Becoming a god sure isn’t easy work!” She loudly laughs before continuing on about offerings and the rules of appearing to humans.

         “You know, Angelia, if you didn’t spend all of your time programming social media sites for humans, you’d be able to get your work done.”

         “How else is a messenger god supposed to stay relevant? Dad already does all the messaging between gods, so there’s no work for a dumb college god like me.”

         “You’re in college… That’s your job right now.” Your lidded eyes meet hers as she blows a loose strand of curly hair from her face and drops two folders onto your lap.

         “Yeah but I’ll disappear if I loose followers.”

         “No. You won’t. You’re a god born of two gods, not a god born of need. There’s a clear difference. We survive whether or not humans worship us individually. Plus there’s other jobs for gods to do other than meddling and fucking around.”

         “Yeah but I wanna be a messenger god!” She whines as she drops four more folders onto your lap. “Only eight new assignments today. Lucky you.”

         “L… Lucky me?” You screech at her. “I already have two hundred and eighty- eight active cases!” She surrenders her hands and pursues her lips at you.

         “I don’t decide who gets what cases.”

         “Yeah but you could also maybe throw in a word to Aphrodite and be like, ‘Yeah, boss, don’t you think MC already has enough assignments right now?’ You know, maybe stick your neck out for a friend once in a while?” Angelia continues to stack cases on your lap, unphased by the explosive temper you let loose every morning, and you keep on crying up to her, “Are you listening to me Angelia? I’m drowning in stress right now! If I were a nymph I would’ve shriveled up and died three hundred years ago.” With your pouting expression and whiney voice, you can be compared to a kid whose mom put her favorite cereal back on the shelf.

         “But you’re not a nymph. Yay! You won’t shrivel up and die.”

         “But if I were a nymph I would have. Doesn’t that concern you? I could die!”

         “Gods don’t die.”

         “Yes we do!” You snap up to her grinning face, “And the leading cause is stress!” The over caffeinated girl isn’t moved by your whining, so you switch to a bargaining strategy quickly.

          “Okay, hear me out,” You begin with a lowered voice, “Maybe if you just slip these onto someone else’s desk, and then pretend that you didn’t notice when Aphrodite asks you “What the hell?” By then that Cupid would have already started the assignment so there’d be no point in bothering me to do it.” Angelia drops the last heavy file folder on your lap and shakes her head. You blink as the weight of your coffee is lifted from your hand again.

         “No can do, my friend.” She begins as she sips loudly from your coffee mug, before her face scrunches, “Too much creamer.” Angelia puts the mug back in your hand, all the while you watch her with eyes the size of the moon; is she serious right now? Of course you know there’s too much creamer in there; you just had a late morning so for all you care she can take her scrutiny and shove it. “Anyways, Aphrodite and Eros both said - very strictly, I might add - that these files are meant for your hands only. Anyways, I’m only part time, here. That all is way above my pay grade.”

         “Angelia,” You suck in a heavy breath through your nose to try and curb your frustrations with the shrugging girl before you say, “You suck.” At that, she laughs heartily. She giggles her good-bye to you over the sound of her clicking heels as she moves to give the next guy his shackles for the day. “Hey!” She turns over her shoulder to acknowledge your head poking out of your office, “You tell Aphrodite that if I get any more cases this week I’m going to go ahead and fall in love, ya hear?”

“Yeah, right. Someone like you, fall in love?” She snorts, “Not even Eros would take that assignment.” You lift your lip, eyebrows pinching together, and shout back to her:

“Go bother someone else… I’m gonna be here all night because of you.” She waves and smiles pleasantly, which you return half-heartedly. The door shuts gently, and you groan back over to your desk.

         Eight files don’t sound like much to the human ear, but these files hold every single aspect of the subject’s life, so it looks like the holy bible. It’s not that you mind the read all that much – it’s like a nice little short story – but it’s the paperwork and scheming that you hate with every fiber of your explosive being. You look to the mirror hanging on your wall after glancing through one of the files – these were all a little bit bigger than the normal case – and decide to put your work order in for their vial’s early; it’s going to take a while to gather their life essence. You grab a drachma and turn it about in your hand as you scribble the eight names onto separate blue ribbons.

         “Ánoixe.” You cough, watching the solid mirrors surface begin rippling like water after a stone is thrown into it. “Eudorus.” The rippling increases before orange begins to reflect in the mirror; it slowly stops to reveal the freckled and smiling face of your good buddy. “How are you this fine morning?”

         “Don’t play coy with me, MC. I know you’re only here to give me more work.” Your lips snap shut before you laugh lightly.

         “I’m sorry. I usually wouldn’t bother you about it until tomorrow but… I just got eight new assignments and they’re really big files. I thought I’d give you a head start on getting their essence for me.”

         “Eight!” He cries at you, his freckled cheeks becoming red and eyes watering. “You’re already drowning in work already!” He purses his lips and puffs his cheeks as he mumbles under his breath, “Mom really has to stop giving you so much work. You’ll keel over soon because of lack of sleep.”

         “Can you do this for me? I’ll buy you dinner tonight?” He smiles at you.

         “I’d do it even if you didn’t offer food, but since you did you can’t take it back now. Give me the ribbons and I’ll give ‘em to you at dinner.” You push your hand through the mirror, flinching as the humid air of his workplace gathers to your hand.

         “How do you even breathe in there Eudorus? It’s so humid.”

         “You get used to it after a little.” He stops as he eyes you, his lips parted and brows slack in what you can only dreadfully identify as one thing; concern. “Are you getting enough sleep, MC?”

         “With all these cases on my desk, I can’t afford sleep.”

         “We might be gods and all, but we need our sleep just like the humans.” You grin as you roll your eyes playfully.

         “You’re starting to sound like Apollo.”

         “If he sees you like this MC he’s going to tear you a new one about taking care of yourself, and you know he’s going to crack down on your eating habits! You’re worse than Hades sometimes…”

         “I know, I know… I’ll just avoid him at all costs.” Your half-brother grins at you before he waves the ribbons held lightly in his smooth hands.

         “I better get to work on theses. And you better to, if you want to cut down on those piles on your desk.”

         “You’re right. Have a good one, Eudorus.”

         “Yeah, you too.” You watch as your red-headed brother disappears, and the mirror hardens again. Staring at your reflection, you realize you really do look like you’re on your deathbed. Your skin is a shade or two lighter from its usual hue, hair messily tossed into a bun, your bags much more prominent, and lips pulled down in a frown much more than usual. You look away quickly, recalling Angelia’s words from earlier…

         “Yeah, right! Someone like you, fall in love?” You stare critically at the stack of finished reports you need to put in their rightful files; you will never have one of these for yourself… It’s strictly off limits for you as a Cupid. If you fall in love, you lose your job. Sometimes it makes you mad, other times sad, and some rare times, you’re glad.

         Filing cases is the easy part of your job; all the hard work’s done, now all that’s left is topping off the paired folders with golden ribbons and filing them into your large bookshelf for review and approval by Eros. Eros, that sleaze. It’s been at least a millennium since you went through the trouble of pairing him with Psyche and he still has the nerve to waltz into your office and flirt with you shamelessly. Plus, he gets to keep his job despite being head over heels for his wife; who cares if he’s a primordial? He should be held to the same standards as everyone else!

         That’s not what matters at the moment though, you guess. Getting these cases off of your desk is the priority! You managed to close thirty cases last night, so you just need to focus on getting them all patched up nicely. You glance to the new files on your desk; once this is done you can stick your nose into the new assignments. 

         “Is this a joke, mom?” Saying you sounded as loud as Zeus when he and Hades butted heads would almost do a disservice to your anger. You are livid, fuming, downright insane with rage. Her beautiful violet eyes snap up to your own as she gracefully pushes her blonde hair from her face and folds her hands in front of her.

         “Is what a joke, MC?” Most of the time, her voice would’ve calmed you down to the point of rational thought, but not today. You’re ready to body slam her into Tartarus. You wave the files frantically in front of you and drop them onto her desk, eyes on fire and steam running out of your ears. You’re an Ares level threat right now.

         “What the hell are these assignments?” You screech. Opening the top folder you drop the picture of the blonde on her neat, tidy desk. “Yoosung Kim, 21, college student. He’s fucked up right now, mom. He recently lost his cousin, who, might I add, is also one of these files. How the fuck am I supposed to make a dead woman fall in love? And how the hell am I supposed to make someone like Yoosung fall in love while he is like this?” She opens her mouth to respond but you slap another picture in front of her. “Jumin Han, 26, an executive who doesn’t know the half of relationships and trusting another person. I can’t work with this yet! And don’t you even get me started on Saeran and Saeyong, have you even looked through these files? And Jihyun? What the fuck is going on with this guy?” You feel a large hand plop down on your shoulder. A growl nearly comes from you as you look up to your father, his yellow eyes telling you to try and calm down. “Well when the hell did you get here?”

         “I was here the whole time MC. You just marched in, ready for the kill.”

         “Well if she wouldn’t hand me such bullshit cases on top of all my other cases I wouldn’t feel like murdering everyone on this damn mountain!” Ares chuckles as he shakes his head in amusement.

         “You sure are my daughter, but you’re almost worse than me. What have I always told you, little soldier?” Your mouth draws into a thin line, before you mumble your response so lowly that no one could understand you. “No matter how hard it gets, it is your duty, and so you shall finish it.”

         “It could also be Eros’ duty. Or Agata! She only has like, ten assignments right now.”

         “Yes, my dear. But Agata is also very new to working as a Cupid.”

         “She’s been in the department for two hundred years!”

         “These cases require experience and power greater than that of a two hundred-year-old nymph.” You draw your lips into a thin line and eye your mother critically. What the hell does she expect you to do with this? You’re originally a war goddess. You were meant to fight, not shoot people with metaphorical arrows and make sure they fall head over heels with each other!

         “This is the life you have now, MC.” Ares begins, for like, the millionth time this month. You grind your teeth and step away from him. You know that you have to content yourself with working in a quiet office, watching others fall in love, constantly typing on a computer, wearing these stupid pencil skirts and bows…

         “But I hate wearing these damn heels!” Is all you can screech, childishly. Aphrodite giggles as she stands and walks to you.

         “But they make you look so beautiful.” You send a harsh glare up to her; of course, she doesn’t even flinch cause your glares are as harmless to her as a feather is to a rock. “I trust you to handle these assignments better than anyone working here… Even myself. I wouldn’t have given them to you otherwise.”

         “How do you suggest I start these, then?”

         “Drink their essence and see what they need.”

         “I’m not a damned therapist.”

         “Hear, hear!” Ares uselessly calls as he resumes his seat on the couch. He shrinks a little when Aphrodite sends him a harsh, menacing glare; if there’s one thing all the gods have learned, it’s that Aphrodite – and possibly Persephone – are the scariest when they get mad.

         “Yes, but you will know where to go. I can assure you.” You puff out your cheeks and cross your arms.

         “Fine, but you owe me three weeks of vacation since I can’t go next week anymore!” You hiss as you take the files she’d gathered in her hands before you even simmered down – it’s like she knew she’d win you over – and stomp to the door. “I had tickets to the premier of the new marvel movie! Do you know how expensive those are?” You cry, ready to slam the door shut, but giving your mom one more, half-hearted stare.

         “You’re a goddess, sweetheart. You have an endless supply of money.”

         “That doesn’t mean I want to waste it!” And you move to slam the door shut, but it slows just at the end. You swear your eyeballs set on fire as you realize that your father installed yet another soft close door because of you.

         What’s your plan? Dive in head-first and get blind-sided at every corner like Zeus? No way, just thinking about that has you ready to start another war. You need a plan, a good plan, and as much information as you can get. Meaning you’re going to have to work with their guardians. Pompous, inconsiderate, above the law shit heads is what guardians are. In your millenniums, you’ve avoided most, if not all, contact with them. You don’t work well with big heads; they always mess things up because they’re always right, narrow-sighted, and rash. Add to that the state that these wards are in, you can’t imagine these guardians will be the best help… But you’ve got to take whatever you can get.

         And that’s why you’re sitting at a large table of seven guardians, enjoying a measly meal of chicken tenders and fries; ambrosia is too damn expensive these days. But you suppose that as the times have changed, your offerings and followers have fallen to a measly, absolute zero. No worshippers? No ambrosia. It’s a good way to stir up some envy here on Olympus.

         “So, what do you need, Cupid?”

         “I need to know about your wards.” You sigh as you plant a folder in front of each guardian. You point to the empty chair and raise your brow, “Where’s Mina’s guardian?”

         “Uh, she’s out on sick leave.”

         “I thought you guys were invincible?”

         “Well, after all the times she’s worked, I’m sure she needs a break for a little.” Aeneas snaps at you. You roll your eyes; guardians were specifically designed to do everything but need a break. You’d have to check in with Zeus later to see what the hell is going on with her.

         “Okay, whatever.” Continuing, you decide to get straight to the point, “Tell me everything you know about your wards. Why are they in the state they’re in?”

         “Some wards are harder to guide than others.” Jac gently speaks. You look to the soft-featured man, nodding your head. You know that… You’ve always treasured Jac as a guardian, he’s one of the few to look at you on equal grounds.

         “I know. I’m sorry if it felt like I jabbed at you. Could you all maybe explain to me what you’ve learned does or doesn’t work with these wards?”

         “Of course… We’ll do as much as we can to help…”

[trulymadlysydney]

The Boy Next Door- IV

Of all the things she could’ve ordered, it had to be a sex toy.  And of all the people who could’ve been her neighbor, it just had to be coffee shop Harry.

*takes a big, long, deep breath*  I... am so sorry for how long it took to upload this.  I am also very sorry for this entire chapter in general.  Truly.  I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me. 

(Part One HERE) (Part Two HERE) (Part Three HERE)

Playlist HERE

***PLEASE DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION***

-Not even a sappy post it note left on the pillow saying goodbye?  Worst sleepover ever

Nova yawns and smiles sleepily to herself as her fingers type out and send the text message to Harry.   She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a bit disappointed to not wake up in his arms, but still.  Waking up in his bed was the next best thing.

His room is so cozy, and the curtains he has on his windows are much better than the ones she has on hers.  They’re thick, and they keep the room fairly dark, save for the light oozing out from the sides.  If it hadn’t have been for her alarm on her phone, Nova reckons she could’ve slept all day.  His covers are thick and his sheets are smooth and he has the type of pillows that are squishy in all the right places.

Speaking of pillows, she takes the one that Harry had been sleeping on and hugs it close to her.  She closes her eyes and inhales, then lets it all out in a satisfied hum.  It smells deliciously like him.  (Nova can’t help that she’s a sap when she’s sleepy. And she can’t help that she’s falling ridiculously hard for this boy.)

Her phone buzzes a few seconds later, and she grins when she reads Harry’s response.  

-Someone kept me up all night and I almost overslept.   I was almost late to my 8am.

-Texting in class?

-...yes?

-Shame on you

-Get up.  Get ready for your 9am, and stop judging my life. x

-I don’t know if I can, actually.  Your bed is ridiculously comfy

-It is, isn’t it?  You’re welcome in it any time you’d like.

-Thank goodness because I don’t think I’m ever going to leave

-That is more than fine by me, gorgeous.

Nova bites at her lip and lets out the girliest giggle when she reads his text.  Gorgeous.  He called her gorgeous.

-I actually should get up though :((

-Booo.  You can skip one day of class, it won’t hurt.    -Skip, and be there when I get back.

-Ha, I wish -You’re a terrible influence

-What can I say?

-I’m going to miss your bed when I get out of it

-I’m sure my bed will miss you, too.

-So, a date in your bed again tonight? -Or mine.  I’m sure my bed would love to meet you

-Meeting the bed, huh?  This is getting serious. -I can’t tonight, unfortunately.  Staying over at Jeff’s place.

-Aww man :(  That’ll be fun though! 

-Will it?  He invited me over because he’s been having work issues.  Again.

-Poor guy :(

-It’ll be fine.  Just needs a guy’s night I think. I would much rather be meeting your bed though.

-Well we could still hang out today! What are you doing after your classes?

-Can’t get enough of me, can you?

Nova rolls her eyes and her cheeks are burning.  She rolls out of Harry’s bed and walks back out into his living room, but she hardly even looks up from her phone.

-Fortunately for you, I can’t -But keep being a cocky little shit and we’ll see what happens.

-Cocky? Me?  Never. -But I actually have band practice today.  

-You’re in a band?!

-Thought I told you that!

-You mentioned you sing, you didn’t mention you had a whole entire band!

-Oh. Well surprise, then! I’m in a band.  -And we’re practising at the apartment this evening, which sucks because otherwise you’d absolutely be over at my place.  No questions asked.

-And I could finally kick your ass at that game of Parcheesi you mentioned, am I right?

-Can’t believe you remember that.  But yeah, sure.  Keep telling yourself that you’d be the one doing the ass kicking.

-Cute how you think I wouldn’t...

-Cute how you’re probably still in my bed.

-GOOD TRY but I’m in your living room now

-Going through my things to see if you can dig up any dirt on me?

-You know me so well

Nova takes a moment to actually look up and take in what his apartment looks like, because she hadn’t really paid that much attention the night before.   The one critique she has is that it doesn’t smell anywhere near as good as her and Jessie’s place.  It doesn’t smell bad, necessarily, but it smells distinctly like “boy,” mixed with a few old candles.

Her eyes fall on a large case over by the window, and she’s immediately intrigued.  She walks over and realizes what exactly she’s looking at, and she adores it.  Each shelf in the case is crammed with records.  There must be at least a hundred in there.  Some old classic vinyls, some newer pop albums that she recognizes. All different genres, and all of them look to be in excellent condition.

She immediately shoots Harry another text.

-Impressive record collection!

-So you are going through my things?  Sneaky sneaky.

-I’m not going through anything, you pest, I just saw the collection.  And I’m serious, it’s impressive

-Thank you!  Been working on it for basically my whole life.

-I can tell! What’s your favorite?

-God, what a question.  That’s like asking me to pick a favorite child. -Ever heard of The Stone Roses?

-Can’t say I have, no! 

-Check them out.  Should be on the second shelf down.  

Nova follows his instructions and sees the exact album he’s referring to.  She pulls the oversized record sleeve from its place and examines it as Harry sends another text.

-They’re actually from my hometown.  Formed in Manchester in the 80s I believe.  They’re sick.  -You can take the record home with you if you want to.  Give them a listen.

-I don’t own a record player :(

-What?! -It’s like you live in the year 2018 or something.  Crazy.

Nova realizes she hasn’t stopped smiling during this entire conversation when her cheeks start to hurt a bit.  Her phone vibrates with another text.

-Look them up on youtube then. I think you’ll like them.

-I definitely will!

Nova returns the record to its home on the shelf before standing up and heading towards the door.  She knows she needs to go get ready for class, although she is tempted to crawl back into his bed and go back to sleep.  When she spies a some paper in his kitchen on her way out, she giggles to herself as a plan forms.  It doesn’t take long for her to find a pen, and with a smile on her face she scribbles “Here’s a sappy post-it note for you, since you didn’t leave one for me.  You’re welcome. Xoxo, Novocaine.”

She sticks the note to his pillow (and shamelessly gives the pillow one more sniff) before slipping out of his apartment and heading back to her own.

---

As it turns out, the effect of seeing Harry’s name on her phone never fails to make Nova’s stomach flip.  At around 3pm, he texts her again with a simple “is it ridiculous to say that I miss you?”

It is ridiculous, really.  Of course it is.  But she’s so happy, and she’s so happy to see that he’s feeling the same way.  

Her response is immediate and, not surprisingly, sarcastic.  Mentioning how it would be more ridiculous if he didn’t miss her, and then following up with a quick “All jokes aside, I suppose I miss you too,” and adding “but not as much as I miss your bed.  That was comfy as hell.”

It’s when he tells her that, if his band weren’t coming over in fifteen minutes he’d invite her right back over to his bed, that she gets an idea.

Is it a good idea?  Decidedly not.  But it’s an appealing one and one that she’s sure he’s going to enjoy just as much as she does.

She double checks the time, and then triple checks it as she heads into her bedroom.  She knows Jessie isn’t going to come home until around 6:30 so she’s safe in that aspect.  But still, just to be even more safe, she closes and locks her bedroom door behind her.  (Call it force of habit, but its truly just a security thing for her at this point.)

Nova reaches under the bed and pulls out the exact thing she’s looking for-- the little white wand that brought her and Harry together in the first place.  She beams as she flips the vibrations on and off for a quick second, just to make sure its fully charged and ready to go.  It is.

She can’t remove her pants fast enough, and soon she’s climbing onto her bed and relaxing back onto the pillow that’s pushed against the wall she’s almost positive that Harry is on the other side of.  She’s already shivering, partly from anticipation and partly from her newfound lack of clothes.  With a cheeky grin that she can’t even contain, she shoots him a text.

-Oh yeah?  With completely innocent intentions I have no doubt

She chews on her lip as she waits for his response, hoping that she hasn’t taken too much time setting up her plan.  She doesn’t want to go through with this if his band is starting to arrive at his place.  Having just Harry overhear her the first time was embarrassing enough, but his entire band?  She’d never be able to show her face ever again.

Luckily, he does reply quickly.

-Completely innocent.

-Just like you, right?

-I wouldn’t be so quick to point fingers, little miss, lest you forget how we first began talking.

Nova rolls her eyes at how proper that text reads, before reminding him that the first time they actually spoke was at a coffee shop.  But she digresses. That has nothing to do with the task at hand.  With a flip of her thumb, she hears the vibrations that send her stomach swirling before even touching her.  

-Who said I’m pointing fingers, hm? -If I wanted to do anything with my fingers, it wouldn’t be pointing.

She reads and rereads the sentence she just sent, hoping that it comes across the way she wants it to.  Just because she’s feeling sexy does not mean that Harry is, and for all she knows he could have interpreted that message in an absolutely different way than she’d intended.  She bites her bottom lip, scrambling to think of something to say to possibly change the situation, when his response lights up her screen.

-Interesting.  What would you do with them?

Her stomach floods with butterflies at his words, and she becomes aware of the buzzing in her other hand.   She quickly lowers the vibrator teasingly down between her legs.  The minute it touches her skin, she shudders and involuntarily exhales a soft whisper of “Oh my god.”

With the vibrator rubbing light circles at her clit, she uses her free hand to type out her response.

-I can think of a few things -But then again, those are things that could be much better done by the vibrator -Or, by your fingers preferably. 

The vibrator is still only on low, but the tingles it sends up through her spine have her unraveling torturously slow. 

No teasing, she reminds herself.  

At least... no teasing herself.

She flips up the speed of the vibrations and lets out an exaggerated moan that is, admittedly, much louder than necessary, but loud enough that she knows it’s going to get his attention. Her phone vibrates again.

-Jesus.  Somebody’s in a mood isn’t she?

-Not if you don’t want me to be

-No believe me.  I want you to be. -I actually haven’t stopped thinking about last night.  I mean that in the least perverted way possible, because I don’t want you to think that I’m only into you because of that. -But god, love.  I’ve never seen anything as sexy as you cumming from just my fingers.  -Is that too much to say?

Nova is too preoccupied to respond right away, but his words make her throb the moment she reads them on the screen.  She allows her mouth to fall open and her head to loll back against the wall.  She mutters a soft “fuck” before remembering her objective here and saying it louder.

Almost immediately the gray dots appear on the screen once again.

-...Nova, was that you?

She pulls the vibrator away from her clit momentarily, just to force herself to focus and respond to him.

-Was what me?

-That noise. -Are you doing what I think you’re doing?

Nova lets out another exaggerated moan that, in honesty, isn’t all that exaggerated because the combination of his words and the vibrations between her legs really is making her feel this good. 

-Jesus, Nova are you trying to kill me?

She goes full force now, not responding to his texts but still reading them when they pop up at the top of her screen. Fully immersed in the experience, her thoughts go in a billion different directions.  She lets out another loud cry when she thinks about the way his fingers had curled inside of her last night.  The way he’d spoken to her as he was making her cum.  The way he’d looked at her.

When her phone vibrates again, she realizes that she’s closing her eyes.  She opens them to read the text that’s appeared at the top of her screen, which is soon followed by another text.  And then another.

Oh yes, he knows exactly what she’s doing.

-God you really are a brat. -Fine then.  Let’s see how long it takes you when you’re on your own.   -Because you and I both know that if it were me doing that to you, you’d be cumming in seconds. -Last night was just a preview of what I can do to you, sweet girl. And if I were there right now, I wouldn’t stop at just one. I’d keep going and going until you’d beg me to stop. -And I wouldn’t limit myself to my fingers either.  I’ve been dying to know what you taste like. -Love hearing you like this, but if you think you aren’t in trouble for being a fucking tease then you’re wrong.  -You’re already close just from my words aren’t you? -Aren’t you, Nova?  Answer me.

Nova can’t even bring herself to text back.  Its all too deliciously overwhelming.  She knew that Harry was good at dirty talk, but its almost even more intoxicating reading his words instead of hearing them, because she knows that eventually he’s going to follow through.  

The most she can manage is a loud moan of his name followed by a long cry of “yes, fuck fuck fuck!”  Harry responds shortly after.

-Good girl. -God, listen to you.  Do you know how fucking hard you’re getting me right now? -You’re in for it the next time I get you alone, I swear to god Nova.  -If my fucking band weren’t coming over at any second I’d come over there and finish you off myself. -Holy fuck, Nova, those noises... -Do me a favor, darling?   -Scream my name when you cum.  Please.  Need to hear that again.

She almost contemplates going against his wishes, just because the thought of being punished by him is even sexier than the thought of being rewarded by him.  But then she feels that familiar twinge in her stomach, and suddenly things are spiraling out of her control before she even has time to process them.  Next thing she knows, she’s practically crying as the high overcomes her.

The fact that she doesn’t have to limit her volume makes the experience all the more enjoyable.  She’s shouting and whining and gasping, and babbling some type of word that doesn’t quite sound like his name-- but its all she can manage at the moment. 

She’s imagining his reaction.  In a perfect world, she’s imagining him hard, touching himself on the other side of the thin wall.  In reality though, she knows he’s probably only halfway chubbed up-- not enough to become desperate, but enough that its an uncomfortable and inconvenient little reminder of her.

She’s got him exactly where she wants him, and the feeling is euphoric. 

Nova pulls the vibrator away when the feeling becomes too much, but she’s practically in shock.  Her ears are ringing, her eyes are wide, and she has to blink a few times to get her eyes to focus again.  It isn’t until her phone vibrates with another text from Harry that she only somewhat comes back to earth.

-Fuck Nova you’ve got me so hard right now.  -That was your plan all along, wasn’t it you little brat?

Nova swallows, weakly pushing herself to sit up a bit.  She notices the sheets are a bit damp beneath her.  Had she been sweating that hard?

-Did it work?

-I swear to God... -Come over. -I’ll be quick.

It makes Nova giddy thinking about running next door for a quickie with Harry and knowing that his friends could pop in at any moment.  She’s absolutely in for a punishment after what she’s done, and the thought makes her heart pound and her head swim.

-Don’t want you to be quick

-I’ll cancel on my band.  Right now. -Need you so fucking bad.

Nova knows she shouldn’t be a tease any longer.  She knows full well that what she’s doing is bratty, but she’s got to get her kicks while she can and frankly, she wants him to be as mean (in the loveliest way) as possible when he does finally get his hands on her. 

-You can’t cancel on your band, Harry -You don’t need me that badly -Do you?

-I do. -Not sure you deserve it after that little show you put on, but that is neither here nor there. -I. Need. You. Now.

Nova bites her bottom lip, smirking at her phone and the desperation that is seeping off of his texts.  She’s about to just say fuck it, invite him over without giving his band a second thought, when he texts her again.

-Fucking hell.  They’re here.

-Oh noooo.  You poor thing :(

She knows she should relax but right now she’s having too much fun tormenting him.  She rolls off of her bed, shimmies into a clean pair of panties, and hurries into her living room just in time to hear voices coming from the hallway on the other side of her front door.

“Shit, H! You took your sweet time coming to the door, didn’t you lad?”  It’s a male voice and it makes Nova snicker, especially when she hears a faint “fuck off” coming from Harry.  She listens through all of their muffled greetings until she hears Harry close his door and their voices fade away.

Satisfied with her work, Nova decides to set her phone down and hop in the shower.  It’s still early and a lovely day outside. She has the fleeting thought that maybe she can convince Jessie to head out for sushi tonight, and her stomach grumbles in response.  So with one more smug little giggle she tosses her phone onto her bed and heads to the bathroom.

When she returns however, she is met with a text from Harry that sends her heart into a frenzy all over again.

-You have no idea what you’re in for little girl.

------

It’s Friday when Nova finally gets to see Harry again. 

Neither one of them has brought up up her little production since Monday, and Nova isn’t sure whether or not that’s a good thing. 

All of that aside, however, she does enjoy the fact that she and Harry speak constantly. They’d exchanged several texts and even a few phone calls throughout the week-- and it was during a phone call on Wednesday that he’d invited her here tonight.

“Bit silly that we talk on the phone so much when you live next door to me,” he’d said.  “I could get up right now and be in your bed in under ten seconds.”

To which Nova had giggled and replied,  “Well for one thing you know I’m not home right now.”

“Didn’t say I needed you in your bed with me.”

Nova rolled her eyes, but he’d only continued.  “But anyway, that’s also silly that you aren’t home right now.  You could easily be studying in my bed with me instead of at that damned coffee shop.”

Nova’s stomach had twisted at that because, god, was it tempting.  But no.  She picked at her nails casually as she spoke.  “Then we wouldn’t be doing much studying would we?”

“Depends how you look at it.”  Before even knowing what Harry was going to follow that statement up with, Nova had known it was going to be cheeky.  “Technically we’d be studying biology.”

“Harry.”

“Or anatomy, even.”

“Harry!”

They’d continued on like that for a bit until Nova felt her skin was practically on fire, and then just as swiftly as he’d turned her on, he’d changed the subject.  Telling her about this gig that his band was playing Friday night at a local bar, which he referred to as “vibey.”  Nova had rolled her eyes at his choice in adjectives, but he’d only continued.  “Absolutely sick.  I think you’ll dig it.”

Which is how she’s ended up here, bopping along to his band’s fourth song of the night and giggling like a little girl whenever Harry looks over at her and winks.

The entire band is beyond brilliant.  Not that she expected anything less.  She’d briefly met the other members before they’d gone up on the stage, and they all seemed to be incredible people who were passionate about what they did.  Watching them up there now, she’s absolutely mesmerized.  

It is hard, however, to focus her eyes on anything but Harry.  Especially when he looks as delicious as he does tonight.  The combination of the suit he’d opted to wear plus his slightly messy hair and thick hands on his guitar is absolutely deadly to Nova.  And despite the fact that she’s there to listen to the band and their music, she can’t stop her mind from thinking about how fantastic it’s going to be when she gets him alone tonight.

Nova is torn out of her thoughts when she feels someone nudge her.  She turns to see a guy, probably a little bit older than her, holding a beer and smiling at her.  He nods his head up at the stage.  “Ever heard them play before?”  

Nova shakes her head.  “No! This is the first time.”

They both have to speak loudly to be heard over the music.  The guy nods his head.  “Ah.  I saw them a few weekends ago up at some other bar.  They’re sick!”

The pride emanating from Nova’s chest causes her to smile, and she allows herself to glance back up at Harry one more time before nodding.  “I agree.  I’m kinda... seeing that guy up there.”  She doesn’t know how else to word it, because “dating” seems to be too formal for what she and Harry currently are.  She wants to further explain, but her new friend thinks nothing of it.

“What?  The lead singer?”  When Nova nods, his jaw drops.  “No way! That’s awesome.  Met him the other weekend.  He bought me a couple drinks. He’s a good guy. You know he’s from England?”

Nova giggles.  “I did know that, yeah.”  

The song comes to an end and the crowd goes wild. Nova beams up at Harry, cupping her hands around her mouth and letting out a loud cheer.  He smirks but he doesn’t look back at her, busying himself instead with switching guitars.  As soon as the strap of the new guitar is over his shoulder and adjusted, he leans into the microphone.  “Alright.  We’ve got some adjusting to do up here... because this next song we’re going to be covering is a bit different.”

The guy beside Nova holds out his hand.  “I’m Jason by the way.”

Nova shakes his hand, still speaking a bit loud to be heard over the feedback from the amps onstage and the crowd around them.  “Nova!”

His jaw drops again and it makes Nova snort.  This guy is so easily amused by everything she says.  “What a cool name!”

“Thanks!”  

“You ever been here before?”

Nova shakes her head.  “Nah. This is the first time.  I only came because of Harry.”

“I feel that.”  He nods his head seriously.  “Can I tell you a secret? I come for the keyboard player.”

“Really? Do you know her?”

It’s Jason’s turn to shake his head.  “I wish.  I’m hoping maybe your boy can introduce us though.”

Nova giggles.  “I mean, I only just met her today.  Her name is Clare.  She’s a really cute person from what I can tell.” 

“Obviously.  She’s fucking adorable.  Talented as hell, too.  Ask your boy if he can hook us up, yeah?”

Nova giggles.  “Alright.”

The band fumbles around the stage, switching out instruments and mics, and someone is bringing a stool on the stage.  

“You need another one of those?”

“What?”  Nova’s a bit distracted by the way Harry looks as he communicates softly with his fellow band members.  He’s beautiful without even trying, and Nova can’t believe how much she’s falling for this guy.

Jason nods at the empty drink in Nova’s hand.  “You need a refill, girl.”

“Oh.”  On any other occasion, Nova would have probably said no.  But she’s in a very good mood right now and, honestly, another one would probably only add to it.  “Yeah, I do actually.”

“You want me to go grab you one?”

“No no that’s okay.  I can get it.”

“You sure?”  Jason holds up his own empty drink.  “Headed over there anyway.”

Nova glances back at Harry, who’s got a guitar pic between his teeth and is skillfully tuning the guitar in his hands.  God, he’s perfect.

“Yeah I’ll just go over with you, actually.” 

“Oh! Alright.”

Nova and Jason squirm and bump their way through the crowd of people and over to the bar, talking the whole time.  Nova learns that he’s lived in California his whole life, but only moved to Los Angeles for film school about a year ago.  He’s 27, but the reason he’d waited so long to come here was because he’d had a long term girlfriend who he’d thought he was going to marry back at home. 

As they’re ordering their drinks, Nova can hear Harry saying something into the microphone.  She believes its a back story for the song they’re about to do, but its hard to understand him what with the story she’s currently telling Jason.  She makes a mental note to ask Harry what he was saying later.

It isn’t long before the song is starting.  It’s slower than the other songs they’d played, and Nova can instantly tell that the vibes of this song are different. Jason pays for both of their drinks (despite Nova’s protests) and the two bump their way back through the crowd just as Harry starts to sing. 

The crowd has gotten thicker since they’d left, and when Jason holds his hand out for Nova to take so they can stay together, she instinctively takes it.  He looks over his shoulder and says, “Gotta get you back up to your man,” which makes Nova laugh.

When Harry’s voice goes into falsetto,  chills rise all along Nova’s body.  The lighting is dim, save for one bright light on him.  He looks different, too.  More serious.  Less happy, but not necessarily sad or upset.  Every now and then, the girls in the band will join in with a harmony, but otherwise its just Harry.

Although Nova is focused more on getting back to her original spot and apologizing to the people she bumps into, she feels like she’s practically in a daze listening to Harry sing whatever song this is.

Jason leads Nova as close to their original spot after much struggle, and when he finally stops walking he grumbles, “Jesus.”  But then he’s right back to being the happy, friendly guy Nova just met.  “Anyway!”

Instead of letting go of her hand, he raises it, signaling for her to twirl under it.  Nova smiles, moving slowly.  Maybe its the slow, dreamy song.  Maybe its the boy singing it, or the way her skirt swishes as she twirls.  Whatever it is, she’s in a trance. She’s happier than she’s been in a long time, and this is all thanks to Harry.

Jason smiles at her and sways a bit himself before dropping her hand.  “Your boy is really good, Nova.”

Nova smiles up at Harry.  “I know he is.”

Oddly enough, Harry doesn’t look at her much during this song like he’s been doing throughout every other song.  It’s strange, but Nova just assumes its because this is a slower song.  It sounds sad, and Harry keeps repeating the words “Wishing you were mine” over and over.   Maybe it is a sad song, and Nova had missed the explanation earlier.  Maybe its a breakup song that Harry had absolutely fallen in love with during a tough time.  He does have such an amazing music taste, after all, so it wouldn’t surprise her.

The song ends shortly after, and everyone including Nova once again goes wild.  The band all smiles down at the crowd reactions, but for some reason, Harry doesn’t.

Harry isn’t even really looking at the crowd, actually.  He’s looking straight ahead, and his jaw is set.  He’s got the same look on his face that he did earlier-- not sad, but definitely not too pleased-- and it leads Nova to conclude that that really is an emotional song for him.  She cups her hands around her mouth once more and calls out to him, cheering and clapping with the audience and fully prepared to greet him with an encouraging smile to bring him back to earth. 

But he doesn’t even budge.

When the crowd relaxes, he seems to come back a bit.  He clears his throat and leans in to the microphone.  “Thank you.  Eh.. we’ve got one more song for you guys, and I’m sure you’ll all know it.  So... if you like it, feel free to sing along.”

There’s hardly any hesitation before he nods at the band and counts down the beginning of the song.  As soon as he plays the opening chords,  his head lowers.  He doesn’t lift it again.

Nova furrows her eyebrows and turns to Jason.  “Is he being like, totally weird now, or is it just me?”

“What??”  Jason seems to know the song they’re playing, and he’s bopping and swaying around like a madman.

Nova smiles in spite of herself.  “Nothing.  Nevermind.”

“Why aren’t you dancing?!”

She shakes her head  and laughs when Jason takes her hand and twirls her once more.  He chants “Dance!” at her until she’s finally making a bit of an effort to move without his help.  

And soon all is forgotten.  Soon she’s laughing and dancing, assuring herself that its all in her head and reminding herself that she gets that beautiful, talented guy and all of his post-show adrenaline to herself after this show.

She is going to absolutely ravage him.

During a long guitar break, the band says their final thank you’s and goodbye’s, and before Nova knows it the song is over.  The crowd is going even more wild than before, and rightfully so.  But now, Nova is getting pushed and shoved to the side as everyone tries to rush in separate directions.  Some run towards the stage to try and talk to the band.  Some are making a desperate attempt to leave the dance floor and head over to the bar before everyone else has the same idea.  And then there’s Nova, caught in the chaos while unsuccessfully trying to keep her eye on Harry so she can find him after all of this.

By the time things finally do calm down even the slightest bit, the band is off the stage and has most likely blended into this crowd.  Nova frowns as her eyes scan the room and she comes to the realization that Harry didn’t come find her. 

She hardly registers it when Jason asks her if she wants another drink.  “What?  Oh, no.  I uh... I have to go find Harry.”

“Ooh yes.  Go get your man.”  Jason wiggles his eyebrows.  “But don’t forget what we talked about, alright?  I’ll be hanging out here all night.  I want to meet Clare.”

Nova half-heartedly laughs, too consumed by her own concerns at the moment. 

Why didn’t Harry come find her?

“Alrighty, will do.  It was nice meeting you, Jason!”

Jason gives her a sweaty hug and, annoyingly, reminds her one more time about how badly he wants to meet Clare.  Of course.

Nova pushes her way through the crowd and her panic levels begin to rise.  She knows Harry wouldn’t leave without her, but still.  Being at a bar alone, knowing nobody around her-- its a terrifying thought.

Relief washes over her when, finally a few minutes later she spies him, leaning on the bar.  He’s surrounded by a group of people; mostly the people from the band from what she can see.  They’re all talking and laughing with drinks in hand, but Harry isn’t joining in the jokes.  Harry’s barely even smiling as he sips something brown from a clear glass.

“There you are!”  Nova pushes her way through the crowd.  The minute Harry sees her, whatever trace of a smile he’d had disappears. When Nova wraps her arms around his middle and gives him an affectionate squeeze, he only drapes his arm loosely around her.  Uh oh.

“I didn’t know where you went!” Nova says, unaffected by his lack of enthusiasm.

“Was right here,” he mutters.  He looks like he’s about to say something else, but instead he raises his glass to his lips and takes a long sip.

Nova blinks, but she shakes it off.  “Harry, you were so good!  The whole band was outstanding.  I love your music!! I don’t know why you didn’t show me sooner, seriously.  Because wow.”

Harry shrugs.  “Sorry.”  

He takes another sip, and now Nova is starting to get uncomfortable.  She opens her mouth to ask him what’s going on, but she’s cut off when the band’s bassist makes his way over.  “Heyyy, there she is!  How’d you like the set?”

This guy, Adam if Nova remembers correctly, is a total sweetheart.  His smile is blinding and he seems to really love this band and what he does, because he’s never not smiling.  Nova beams right back at him.  “It was incredible! Seriously, you guys are so sick.  And you’re insanely talented!”

Adam smiles so wide it looks like his eyes are barely even open.  Its adorable.  “Thanks!  Felt really good tonight.  Loved the crowd!”

“So did Nova,” Harry mutters, and both Adam and Nova fall silent for a moment.

Nova blinks, taking in what he’s just said.  “I... what?”

Harry shakes his head and shifts his weight so he’s standing upright.  “Nothing.  ‘Scuse me.”  He puts his hand on the drummer’s back to gently let her know that he’s trying to get through, and then he’s maneuvering his way through the room. 

Nova gapes dumbly after him.  She doesn’t even know what to say, and apparently neither does Adam, because they both just stare at the crowd that Harry has disappeared into. This isn’t the Harry that Nova knows.  Not by a long shot.  But what on earth had made him so moody all of a sudden?

Adam chuckles, raising a nervous hand to run through his hair.  “Sorry about him.”

It’s then Nova realizes her mouth is still open, and she turns her attention to Adam.  “I don’t understand what just happened.”

Adam shrugs.  “He gets... weird sometimes.  Gets in these shitty moods.  He can be a real asshole when he wants to be.”

“But what did I do?” Nova’s frowning, and she realizes that she has a slight whine in her voice when she asks.

“Nothing that I know of.  You came to his show to support him, and now he’s being a prick to you.”

Nova holds her breath as she considers her words, but she blows it all out when her mind comes up short. 

Adam leans against the bar.  “Hey,” he says with a smile.  “I wouldn’t worry about it too much if I were you, alright?  It’ll pass and he’ll be right back to being the Harry that we all know and love.”

Nova frowns.  “He doesn’t get a free pass to be a douchebag without explaining himself.”

This makes Adam chuckle into his drink.  “You’re right, he doesn’t.  But I don’t want this to ruin your night.  Have a drink.  Let him sulk.  He’ll come around.  Here, what do you want?  A beer?”

Nova smiles at him.  He’s being such an angel to her and she’s only just met him tonight.  She shakes her head.  “Nothing for right now.  I’m gonna go find him.”

“You sure?”  His words are laced with genuine concern, and Nova nods.

“Yeah.  It’ll be fine.”

Adam takes a deep breath and nods.  “Alright then.  Good luck.”

Nova chews the inside of her cheek nervously as she makes her way through the bar.  It’s sweaty and crowded and dark, and the drunk people are just as annoying as ever. Her eyes scan the crowd as she walks, covering nearly every square inch of the bar, and she frowns when she doesn’t see him anywhere.  He wouldn’t have left without saying anything.

Would he?

She sees a group of girls heading towards a back door with lighters in hand.  One girl is holding a pack of cigarettes, and it’s then that Nova realizes there’s a back porch here.  She turns on her heels and hightails it to go catch up with the girls and follow them.

Its another warm night, which Nova loves,  There are a few people out here, and almost all of them are smoking.  She lets out a cough when a particularly thick cloud of smoke floats towards her.  She uses her hand to clear the air a bit, and then she sees him.

He’s leaned over the back railing.  His drink is still in his hand, but now his phone is in his other hand, and he’s scrolling mindlessly through some social media feed.  Nova is suddenly overcome with nerves, because although confrontation has never really been much of an issue for her, this is Harry she’s confronting, and somehow it doesn’t feel right.

She takes a deep breath and walks over to him.  He doesn’t look up, but he does audibly sigh when he sees her in his peripheral vision.  Nova frowns.  She’s about to open her mouth to say something, but Harry beats her to it.

“What are you doin’ out here?” He asks.

“Um, I could ask you the same question,” Nova blurts.  She feels awkward and exposed for some reason, and she doesn’t know what to do with her hands.  This is weird.  This is not right.

“Didn’t want to distract,” Harry states matter-of-factly.  He hits the power button on his phone before shoving it in his pocket and finally turning to face her. 

“Distract?  From what exactly?  The whole reason I came here was to see you.”

“Did you?”  Despite his mood, he’s still got the hint of a smirk on his face.  It’s different now though.  This one doesn’t turn Nova on.  This one makes Nova feel small, and not in a good way.

“What are you talking about?”

“Your friend.  He couldn’t have stood any closer to you if he’d tried, you know that?”

Nova wracks her brain to try and remember what “friend” Harry is referring to, until it clicks.  “Jason?”

Harry scoffs.  “Oh, s’that his name? Jason.  What a guy.  Good dancer, too.”

“Are you kidding me?  That’s really what this is about right now?”

“Guess it is.”

Nova shakes her head in disbelief.  What happened to him?  The sweet, romantic guy who was a little shit in the best way possible?  “Harry--”

“I know you’re a friendly girl, Nova.  I get it.  People can’t get enough of you.   But when I invited you tonight, it wasn’t just a ‘lets go out and get drunk and meet new people’ thing.  It wasn’t just a ‘friend’ thing, Nova.  It’s never been just a ‘friend’ thing.”

Nova takes a step towards him.  “Of course it’s not a ‘friend’ thing.  What are you even saying right now?  I came here because of you!  To see you!  I didn’t ask the guy to dance with me--”

“But you danced with him didn’t you?” 

“Yeah, actually!   I’m so sorry I had a basic interaction with another human being before checking with you first! Won’t happen again, sir!”

Harry rolls his eyes.  “For fucks sake, Nova.”

“No, really!  By all means!! Tell me what else I’ve done wrong! I complimented some girl’s shoes in the bathroom, is that okay with you?”

“Nova--”

“Also,  I hope it didn’t offend you just now when I told Adam he was insanely talented! I totally should have checked with you first!”

 Now that Harry’s actually making eye contact with her, Nova wishes he wasn’t.   He looks angry and hurt.  It’s a look she’s never seen on his face, and a look she never wants to see again.  “You know damn well that isn’t what I mean.”

Still, Nova stands her ground.  “Is it not?  Cause I’m kind of getting the feeling that it is.”

 “Did you tell him why you were here?”  His question is very to the point, and now Nova’s ears are ringing.

“Of course I--”

Harry cuts her off.  “Or did it not come up? I mean, no reason for it to come up, right?  Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Harry that’s not--”

“Doesn’t matter.  We’re just neighbors.  ‘Neighbors with benefits’ if you will. Right?”

Now Nova’s getting upset.  “You know for a fact that that’s wrong...”

“Do I?”  Harry’s posture is tense.  Where he seems to be looming, Nova seems to be shrinking.  She doesn’t like it. 

“It was just dancing!” Nova’s voice raises a bit.  Not enough to cause a scene quite yet, but enough.  “Holy shit, Harry, you don’t get to tell me what I can and cannot do.  Are you kidding me?  You don’t get to be jealous like this.”

“And you don’t get to tell me what I get to be, Nova!”  Harry shakes his head.  They stand there in their horrible, angry tension, and then Harry lets out a breath.  “Christ.”  He raises his glass to his lips and takes another sip.

“I can’t believe you,” Nova spits.  “I came here to support you and you’re getting jealous over nothing.  Something so fucking insignificant--”  Harry snorts at her words, “--and for what?  You haven’t asked me to be your girlfriend.  You haven’t even asked me on a date.”

“Did you even listen to a word I sang tonight?”

“Of course I did!”

“And did you hear what I said before the song you danced to?  Hm?  Were you listenin’ to that?”

“Harry, I was.”

“What did I say then?”

Nova’s jaw drops.  “Am I being fucking quizzed right now? Are you accusing me of lying?  Are you gonna fucking punish me if I get this wrong?”

“Did you hear what I said about you before that song?  Hm?”  

And now Nova’s mouth closes. 

Harry continues.  “No.  You didn’t. And you know why you didn’t?  You were getting a drink with Jason when I said it.”

Suddenly, the night feels a bit colder.  Nova has nothing to say.

Harry sighs and runs a hand through his hair.  His voice softens.  “Fuck.  I’m not saying that in order to be with me you can never talk to guys again.  I would never in a million years fucking say that to you.  Christ, have you seen yourself?  The day you stop getting attention is the day that hell freezes over.”

“Stop.” Nova’s voice is so quiet it’s hardly above a whisper.  

“But what I am saying...”  Harry lets out a long breath and takes another sip.  “I don’t know.  I’m saying I really fucking like you.  You’re always going to have male friends.  And you’re always going to be beautiful.  I hate to sound like a whiny little pissbaby, because I know... ha.  I know that’s what I fucking sound like.  But Nova, I said... a lot tonight.  And you didn’t hear a word of it.”

Nova feels that familiar lump in her throat and begs herself not to cry.  “What did you say?”

Harry laughs and shakes his head.  “Doesn’t matter.  None of this fucking matters.”

“Harry, it does matter.  Will you please just--”

“No,” Harry cuts her off.  “No I won’t ‘please just’ do anything.  I’m going to go home.  And I’m going to get in bed, and probably fucking hate myself for a long time.”

“But I don’t want you to--”

“But I’m going to, aren’t I?  I’m going to, because I fucked this whole thing up.  I invited you here.  I tried to confess my feelings in a very... stupid, fucking idiotic way.  And you weren’t even paying attention.   So now I feel like a fucking idiot, and I feel even more of an idiot for having this conversation in the first place.”

“Harry.”  That’s all Nova can even think to say.

“No, you know what?  You’re right.  I don’t get to be jealous like this.  I have no claim on you.  Whatsoever.  And I don’t know why I thought I did.”

Nova feels the first tear prickle at her eye, and she refuses to look up.  “You do.”

“I don’t. I really, really don’t.  And I’m sorry that I tried to force that into being a thing.”  Harry finishes off the rest of his drink and sets the glass down on the railing.  “And,” he adds,  “I’m sorry for this conversation.”

When Nova looks at him, she can’t stop herself from letting a tear fall down her cheek.  But she has nothing to say.

They they both stand there looking at one another.  Both of them wondering what the hell just happened between them.  Both of them wondering where they stand now.

Harry still looks mad, but his voice softens to an almost unrecognizable amount. “You have a safe way home?”

“I can take an uber.”

He nods his head as if thinking about something.  “Alright.”

He turns to go, but Nova reaches out to grab his arm.  “Can I leave with you?”

“Nova--”

“Please?  I want to go home.”

Harry’s eyes dart down to Nova’s hand on his arm, and even he looks like he could cry. Eventually, he sighs.  “Fine.  Let’s go.”

The shared uber ride back to the apartment complex is completely awkward, with the radio playing and the uber driving chatting cluelessly about a ride he’d had earlier.  Harry and Nova add their polite comments every now and then, but it feels so stiff.  So forced.  They’re sitting on opposite ends of the backseat, and Nova feels that if she were any closer to the car door she’d be outside of the car.  

Where Nova wants to be is on Harry’s lap.  She wants to taste whatever it was that he was drinking on his lips while they share giggly, post show adrenaline kisses.  She wants to be showering him in praises, hinting at what she’s going to do to him when they get home.  Would they have stayed at her place or his?  He hasn’t been to hers yet, and Jessie is gone for the night. They’d probably stay at hers.

But life is not a fanfiction, and Nova has to remind herself of that.  Things don’t work that way. 

Neither says a word once they get out of the uber either. The elevator ride up to their apartment is silent.  There are a few sniffles from Nova, who’s trying her best not to cry.  And Harry clears his throat every few moments.  But he won’t even look at her at this point, and Nova doesn’t know if thats a good or bad thing.

Its when they reach the space between their doors that Harry finally breaks the silence.  “Have a good night,” he says.  He doesn’t stop to hug her.  He just inserts his key into the door.

“Harry I’m sorry.”  It comes out fast and desperate, but somehow the words still don’t convey everything that Nova is feeling.  Right now, she’s hurt.  She’s hurt, and she’s guilty, and she wants to sit and talk this through with him.

He doesn’t look at her, but he does halt his movements for a brief moment.  “Me too.”

Nova allows her eyes to drop, because she isn’t about to stand there and stare at him until he disappears into his apartment.  Of course, the moment she looks down, her eyes come across something on the floor in front of her door. 

It’s small and square shaped, and it has a little red bow on it, as well as a note that reads:  “To Novocaine” in big letters.  After a split second of intrigue and endearment, her heart drops even lower than it was before.

“What’s this?”  She asks.

She is answered only by the sound of Harry’s front door closing.

Nova closes her eyes and allows the thickness of the situation to sink in for a moment before letting out all her air and leaning down to pick up the item.

She instantly recognizes it as a CD case, and when she picks up the note she notices a smaller message written below her name. 

“I promised you I’d introduce you to new music.  These are just a few (100 to be exact) of my favorites that remind me of you.  I know mix tapes are old fashioned and all the kids are using iTunes these days or whatever, but I knew you’d appreciate this. Thank you for being wonderful always. H x.  (PS.  Listen to track 36.  If tonight went the way I hope it did, you’re going to love it)”

A hot tear rolls quickly down Nova’s cheek and hits the case in her hand.  It lands right on the plastic CD cover, which is a poorly drawn illustration of the night sky that Nova knows immediately Harry’s done by hand.  And, in font that Harry probably traced, is the word “Supernova” in purple ink.  Fuck.

She reaches up to wipe at her eyes before disappearing into her apartment.  She doesn’t even bother taking off her makeup before she gets undressed and climbs into her bed, and five minutes later, she’s sitting under the covers with her laptop resting on her thighs.  She pushes the CD into the disc reader and waits.

A new tab opens with a list of every song burned onto the CD (and Harry was right, there are exactly one hundred), and seconds later, the cheerful intro to the very first song plays.

Fake young when we met, everything seemed alright...

Nova smiles in spite of herself.  She’s barely heard three seconds of only one song out of one hundred, but its such a sweet gesture and so ridiculously “Harry” that it makes her happy.  

She glances back down at the hand-drawn CD cover and the note that Harry wrote, and her heart sinks just a little bit more as she’s reminded of her current situation.  Things aren’t as happy as this song would lead her to believe. 

And Harry wants her to listen to track thirty six.

She scrolls through the song titles until she reaches thirty six, and her throat feels dry when she reads the title.  “Mine-  Dayo Bello (Cover by Harry Styles).”  It takes her fifteen seconds of reading the title before she finally plays it.

She doesn’t know when he recorded this, or how he’d kept it a secret from her.  But her eyes blur with tears as she listens.  She can hear him shuffling in his seat, she can hear his guitar strings squeaking under his fingers, she can hear him clearing his throat softly just before singing.  

Nova recognizes the song as one that Harry played tonight.  More specifically, it’s the one that she had danced and swayed with Jason to. She hadn’t listened to the words very carefully and realizes quickly that her assumptions about this song were not correct.  They’d been entirely off, in fact.

She hadn’t realized that Harry had chosen that song specifically for her, because it was how he felt.

His cover is beautiful.  It’s raw, and it makes Nova’s chest feel as though it’s being sat on by an elephant.  His falsetto causes chills all along her skin, just as it had earlier.  Even though she knows she’d heard him sing it a few hours before, this cover is different than it had been.  This cover feels more intimate because it’s just him.  There’s no band behind him doing backup vocals.  No other instruments.  It’s him, his guitar, and his feelings being poured out to her through the speakers of her laptop.

Nova lets out a shaky breath, trying and failing to get her breathing under control before eventually giving up.  She reaches up and rubs her face with her hands, over and over and over.  

“And you don’t even know, you’re like my wildest dream Held captive in stone, held captive in stone, Wishing you were mine Wishing you were mine...”

Nova swallows the lump in her throat before reaching over to pick up her phone.  She types and retypes apologies. She dials his number, but hangs up before hitting the call button.  She moves her laptop to the side, multiple times, and attempts to get up out of bed so she can go apologize in person.  She goes through the motions over and over, wash, rinse, repeat, repeat, repeat until she finally gives up and lets out a long sob.  

Could he hear that?  Does she care?  She feels restless, exhausted, helpless, and she can’t even begin to think of a way to fix this right now.  And all the while, Harry’s voice croons through her laptop, holding her frozen in place.

Wishing you were mine... Wishing you were mine...

Nova finally surrenders, allowing herself to just sit there and listen.  Listen to his voice, listen to the words and the emotions behind them.  This version is much, much longer than the one he’d played live tonight, and Nova doesn’t know if she’d rather the song never end or stop completely, mid chorus.

When it does finally end, fading into the next song, Nova just closes her laptop.  The room falls silent, and her throat feels thick.  She hadn’t realized that she was sitting straight up, and she relaxes back into her pillows with a defeated sigh. She has to say something.  Do something.  Anything.

She picks up her phone without allowing herself a second though, mindlessly types out a text message, and hits “send.”  Her heart is racing, pounding in her ears, and another tear rolls down her cheek.

-I am so, incredibly sorry Harry.

Read at 11:36pm.

[fluffyllamas-23]

“Is Bucky coming in today?” Peggy asks, spinning on the rolling stool next to Steve’s desk. Steve looks down at his planning book, trying desperately to finish planning today’s lessons before they have to go pick their students from the bus stop.

“Yeah, he just texted me that he’s on his way,” Steve mumbles, exhaustion weighing him down. It’s only four months into the school year, and he’s beyond drained.  This is his first year as a special education teacher, and even though he only has five students and three aides, it’s still hard.

“It’s about time he gets off his lazy ass and actually show up for once,” Sam grins.

A smile plays on Steve’s lips, “be nice, he’s been sick.”

He reaches for his coffee cup, draining the rest of it before getting up for a refill. It’s his third cup of the day, and it’s only eight AM.

He hadn’t slept well the night before. He had woken up a handful of times, and it had taken longer and longer for him to fall asleep each time, which just frustrated him more than anything.

The coffee is doing nothing for the bone deep fatigue he’s been experiencing since he got off work yesterday, but he’s hoping that it’ll all kick in soon, before his students get there.

“Are you okay?” Peggy frowns. “You never drink coffee.”

“Just tired,” he says, clearing his throat with a grimace.

The coffee is definitely not helping the sore throat he had woken up with, it’s not that bad, nearly undetectable, but every time he swallows there’s an ominous sting in the back of his throat.  Like he’s starting to come down with something, but he’s hoping that it at least holds off until the weekend.

He’s at the keurig when the door opens again.

“Hey, guys,” Bucky greets them.  He still sounds congested and tired and hoarse, like he’s not quite past whatever he had managed to come down with, but his voice still makes Steve want to melt just as much as usual.  

“Welcome back!” Steve grins, turning around to look at him. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.”

“You sound like crap,” Sam says, raising a brow.  

“I’m fine,” Bucky says.  “I sound worse than I feel.”

Steve’s heart flutters in his chest as he realizes just how much he had missed Bucky.  Bucky had been gone for nearly a week and a half, out with the same bug that has been making its way through the students, and Steve is more than happy to welcome him back.

*

As the day wears on, Steve realizes that whatever this is isn’t going to hold off for the weekend.  He’s nearly halfway through the day when he has a crashing realization that he’s definitely sick.

The realization happens in the break room during lunch.  He hasn’t been hungry for the last few days, but he still has his lunch bag in front of him, staring in vague disgust at his sandwich.  His stomach rolls slightly, and he’s suddenly aware of just how badly everything hurts, and just how awful he��s starting to feel.  

He rests his head in his folded arms, suddenly too exhausted to do anything more than that.  He doesn’t move when he hears the door unlock and open, but when he feels a hand on his back and a very soft, “Steve,” murmured into his ear, he forces himself to sit up.

“Hey, Buck,” he mumbles, grimacing at how rough and congested he’s starting to sound.

“I thought you were coming down with something,” he frowns, pressing a hand to Steve’s cheek. If Steve didn’t feel so awful, he would be reveling in the fact that his crush was touching him.  

“I think I needa go home.”

“Yeah, I think so too.  You’ve got a fever.”

He can’t be here when he’s sick, he has too many medically fragile kids, and even though they’ll all probably catch this at some point anyways, it’s against policy and he needs to leave.

Bucky gets Steve to the office, and stands in the doorway as the school nurse takes his temperature.  

“One hundred and two.  Steve, why the hell did you come in?” She asks.

“I felt fine this morning, Nat,” he groans, running a hand down his face.  “I promise. It didn’t hit until a few minutes ago.”

“Sounds like the flu,” Natasha frowns.

“I think I’m dying,” Steve croaks, sniffling miserably.  

“You aren’t.” Nat hands him the tissue box with a grimace, “it just feels like it.  Did you get your flu shot?”

Steve nods, sniffling thickly into a tissue, “yeah...didn’t seem to make much difference, though.”

She grabs a tongue depressor and looks into his throat with her pen light. “Your throat is a wreck. Go home and rest. Seriously, take a week and a half off at least...maybe even two weeks.  You’ll need it.”

“But my students-”

“-Will be just fine,” Bucky interjects.  “Peggy, Sam and I have it handled.  I just had this and it’s awful.  Listen to Nat, you need the time off.”

“Fury was saying he might shut the school down for a little while,” she says.

“What? Why?” Bucky frowns.

Nat gestures to Steve, “most of the students and staff are out with this. It’s awful, I can’t even tell you how many people I’ve sent home.”

“Oh,” Steve mumbles.

She pats his knee, “so don’t worry about missing work. Just focus on feeling better.”

He physically deflates, shoulders slumping forward and head dropping down to his chest as he coughs.  

“Okay.”

When he leaves Nat’s office, he makes his way over to the office manager’s desk and as soon as she tells him not to worry about work for the next week, Bucky walks him out to his car.  

“Make sure you lie down as soon as you get home.”

“Believe me, there’s no way I’m doing anything BUT that.”

“And drink fluids.”

“I will.”

“And-”

“-I’ve been sick before, Buck,” Steve chuckles lightly.  “I know what to do, don’t worry.”

“Sorry, I just...sorry…” Bucky trails off, touching his cheek briefly.  “Right.  Um...you can, uh...text me? If you need anything.”

By the time Steve makes it home, he’s definitely glad he left. It’s almost like admitting to himself, his boss and his coworkers that he’s sick increases all of his symptoms tenfold and he’s officially miserable.  He’s on the couch, bundled up in a hoodie, joggers and his favorite thick, fluffy socks beneath the blanket he only wants when he’s sick while he stares blankly at the TV.  It’s not on - he had wanted to watch a movie, but his head is throbbing mercilessly and he figures that turning on the television is just going to make it worse.

There’s a knock on his door, and it takes twice as long as it should for him to get up and shuffle to his entryway.

“Bucky?” He croaks, frowning in confusion.  “What are you doi’gg here?”

“I, uh...brought you something to eat,” he says, holding up a plastic bag.

“You didnd’t have to-”

“-I had this and it’s really awful...and since I can’t catch it again, I thought you might like the company...and...I missed you when I was gone.”

“I mbissed you too,” Steve says quietly.  They don’t say anything for a little while, until the coughing and sneezing and sniffling punctuate the silence.

“How are you feeling? You sound a lot worse.”

“I feel a lot worse.”

“You should be lying down,” Bucky says, putting a hand on his lower back and guiding him back to the couch.

*

Steve sleeps for the majority of the rest of the day, curled up against Bucky with his head in Bucky’s lap.  Each times he wakes up, he’s feverish and confused, and it takes Bucky petting his hair and shushing him to get him back asleep.  

When he wakes up the next morning, he can hear some of his pots and pans clanging together in the kitchen.

“Buck?” He croaks, struggling out from under the blankets.  He shivers at the loss in temperature that brings him as he pads over to Bucky.  “What are you…? Dond’t you have work?”

“Fury shut the school down for like...two weeks.”

“Oh...that’s good.”

“Mmhmm. You hungry?”

“Ndo.”

“Sit down,” Bucky frowns when Steve sways heavily on his feet. “What are you doing up?”

He sniffles, scowling as he collapses into one of his kitchen chairs. “I’ve beend lyi’gg downd.”

“Barely.  You haven’t even been sick for twenty four hours, you’ve gotta rest, Steve.”

“I hate it.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Worse,” Steve mutters, rubbing his forehead.  

“Meds,” Bucky says, placing two pills and some water in front of him.

“You really dond’t ndeed to stay,” Steve mumbles. “I’mb probably just goi’gg to go back to bed.”

Bucky bites his lip, “I know I don’t.  I just…”

“What?”

“Okay, don’t let this make things weird.”

“What are you talking about?”

Bucky sighs, “I like you.  A lot, and I know you probably don’t-”

“-I do.”

“You...what?”

“I do.  I like you a lot,” Steve says, giving him a tired, crooked smile. “Have for a while, now.”

Bucky grins at him, “okay.  Okay, great.”

“I didnd’t think...I didnd’t wandt to mbake thi’ggs weird...ugh.  I’mb sorry, I’d really like to findish this condversationd, but I needa lie down.”

“That’s a good idea.  I want you feeleying better soon so I can take you on a date.”

Steve chuckles, coughing into a fist as he pushes himself to his feet.

“Sounds good to mbe,” he rasps.  

Bucky kisses his temple, “I’ll be there in a second.”

“Hey, Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” Bucky says softly.  “Now go lie down.”

[zendozebra]

All the Time in the World Chapter 12

“… And lastly, Ojiro and Iida will be a team, and you’ll be facing off against Majima-san.” Nezu finished listing off the matchups for the final exams, which made Majima laugh at the students. “Ha, have fun fighting that name-stealing bastard, ya little shits.” Aizawa turned to the time stopper with an annoyed look, “He meant you, idiot.” He stopped laughing. “What?” “He said Majima, not Maijima. Power Loader has an extremely important deadline to meet, so he asked if someone else in the staff could take his place. You were the only staff member left.” The students and the other teachers watched as Majima looked down at the ground, looking like he was about to cry, before he blinked out and reappeared wearing his hero costume, mask over his face. “Let’s just… Get this over with.” He said with a sniffle. “Are you alright, Majima-sensei?” Iida asked his teacher, who looked away from his students. “I just- I just really didn’t want to do any work today.” He hadn’t slept well the last few nights. Hell, he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep ever since that student had put him in a coma. Way too much on his mind. Today was the one day this week that he would have had a free day. His weekend was filled up with a special task from Nezu, to try and get back into the underworld to collect intel, but he was still trying to find his old outfit. Worse case scenario, he wears the replica of his original villain outfit that Power Loader made, but that means giving up on the original mask that Kobayashi had made for him. He’d also have to figure out if the criminal underworld still shuddered when they heard the name, Time Enough. Aizawa glared at him, “Are you drunk?” “I wouldn’t be this upset if I was drunk. I’m sober, honest.” And if that’s not the saddest thing in the world. He hadn’t had a drink in three days. He just wasn’t feeling up to it recently.

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Majima stood at the exit of the test, looking over the dirt arena they dropped him in as he tried to spot Iida and Ojiro. He didn’t really pay attention when they were explaining the rules to him, so he didn’t know what he was doing. Something about not letting them escape, right? Man, he was not in the mood for this, and these heavy-ass weights they were making him wear were not helping his attitude. Oh shit, is that Iida? Can’t really tell, it’s just a line of dust that was heading right towards him. He’s probably about to kick Majima with the force of a truck, which was at least on brand of the kid. Should probably do something about that, huh? The thing about time stop, is that kinetic energy couldn’t be properly applied from within the frozen time. Sure, a constant force works just fine, like pushing something into place or opening a door. But punches didn’t work too great, seeing as most of the force behind them were lost on impact. Good thing he still has all of his old tricks. Crouching down, he spread his hands out on the ground. He focused on his power, feeling time release its hold on him, but he didn’t snap his fingers. His body began to glow with a blinding white light, and he felt an old strain deep in his bones. The world slowed, and he was suddenly able see the speeding Iida much easier than he had been a few moments ago. “Desync: Factor of 10!” There we go, haven’t done this in a long, long time. When he first started, Majima hadn’t known how to stop time, that’s something he’d built up to over hundreds of years. But this? Slowing time had always been far easier, and since time wasn’t stopped, all of the kinetic energy of his punches will be maintained and enhanced. For everyone else, time was the same, it wouldn’t seem like anything had changed. But for him, time was 30 times slower, so every 10 seconds for him was only a single second for everyone else. Not only that, but now a normal punch at 5 miles per hour was coming at 50 miles per hour. Majima ran up to Iida, backhanding the boy in the chest and watching him slowly begin to rocket back towards where the students had started. He held back, duh, didn’t want to kill the poor kid, but Aizawa told him that Iida’s armour was much thicker than it looked, meaning he felt that the kid could take the hit. He turned off desync, trying to look around for Ojiro. Seriously, was he just gone? He hadn’t seen the guy since they started, wasn’t he supposed to be trying to kick Majima’s ass? Hell, he probably stood a decent enough chance against the time stopper. Between Ojiro’s martial arts and Majima’s lack of actual fights in recent years, he was probably rusty enough for the tailed student to win. But nevermind that, just wher- Oh, there he is, walking around the perimeter of the arena. Why wasn’t he trying to fi- “Fuckin’ hell!” He almost hadn’t snapped his fingers in time to stop that boot to his face. That psychopath Iida had tried to launch a roundhouse right at his fucking head. He now floated in the air, frozen, while Majima tried to stay focused. What had he been doing? Fuck, whatever. He used Time Stop to move Iida all the way back to the starting area, walking back to his spot at the exit. He stopped his quirk, smirking as he imagined Iida eating major shit when his kick hit nothing and he fell to the ground. Was that another trail of dust? Why the hell was Iida just charging him over and over? Did he and Kaminari switch bodies or somethin’? Oh well, another kick, another snap, rinse and repeat. How long did these things last for again? He’d have paid attention to the details, but he didn’t think that he’d have to fucking participate, so he’d kind of zoned o- The bell rang, the one that means that one of the students passed. But that’s impossible, Iida was st- Ojiro! He’d fuckin’ forgotten about Ojiro, god damnit! He must have snuck around while- A metal-clad foot to the head ended that train of thought while Majima dropped to the ground like a sack of rocks. Seeing as he couldn’t move his body anymore, he’d wager that Iida’s kick had broken his neck and fucked up his spinal cord. Wonderful. A second bell rang out, meaning that Iida had crossed the finish line as well. Fuck, there goes that monthly liquor allowance idea he’d been trying to get past Nezu. Oh well, not like he’d been drinking any lately. Perhaps that money could go to a better cause, like hiring a carpenter to fix that hole in Majima’s pride. “Alright, Kokiri-san, what’s the damage? I don’t usually get called out here to help fix up the teachers instead of the students.” He could only guess that voice belonged to Chiyo, one of the few people who he let give him this kind of shit. Doesn’t mean that he won’t give her some shit back, though. “Alright, so you know how the human body is able to move around, right?” “Yes, I’m well aware.” “Yeah.” He couldn’t see her face, but she was probably rolling her eyes at him. Either way, she gave him a dose of her quirk and helped him to his feet. He rolled his neck, wincing when he felt a weird twinge whenever he looked to the left. Whatever, his body resets in a few hours, he can deal with it until then. He followed Chiyo through the exit, where Iida began to bow to him over and over while yelling apologies. “God damnit, will you shut up!” The class president stood straight with a salute, while Majima sighed and moved onto his next point. “Remind me to teach you guys some restraint. You do realize that some people can just die if you beat their ass too hard, right? I damn near almost did. Well, not really but it’s still kid of rude.” “Yes sensei, I’ll remind you when we return from the training camp!” “Alright, well, moving on.” Majima turned to Ojiro, “What was that back there? I’d have sworn you of all of my students would have tried to fight me. With these weights, you stood a decent chance, how come you didn’t take it?” “Because you were sober, Majima-sensei.” Fuckin’ what? “The hell does that have to do with anything?” Iida gave him an answer, “One time when I was studying with Midoriya-san, he mentioned that you got distracted more while you were drunk, which let you jump from thought to thought when you fought. He thought that this was how you could keep track of so many opponents at once in the stories you told him.” Ojiro stepped in to say, “When he heard you say that you were sober, Iida-san thought that you’d be more focused on your current enemy, and would forget anyone else around you. This way, as long as Iida-san kept you busy and focused on him, I could sneak around and get to the exit. When you got surprised by the bell going off, Iida-san would be able to take you down and make a break for the exit.” “… So you’re telling me that being drunk gives me an advantage when I’m fighting more than one person?” “Yes sensei!” They said together, which made Majima look over to Nezu with a big smile on hi- “I’m not approving that alcohol allowance idea you keep putting paperwork for on my desk, no matter the reason.” “But they just said that it makes me a better fighter!” “You shouldn’t be fighting, Majima-san, you should be teaching.” “… I’m gonna convince you one of these days.” “Oh, I don’t see you ever giving up, Majima-san.”

XXXXXXXXXXXX

In response to a review from Entemoid, who asked me, “I wonder what he’ll say to the boulder shaped head about his fear of bugs” I have only one thing to say to you. Fuckin’ what? I don’t, I don’t understand the question. Did I skip a chapter of the manga, or am I just stupid? At first I thought you were talking about that shit from Prometheus, until I realized that that had nothing to do with my story, which leaves me super confused about my answer to your question.

[moonaft]

The Winter Long - Reread

Rosemary and Rue

A Local Habitation

An Artificial Night

Late Eclipses

One Salt Sea

Ashes of Honor

Chimes At Midnight

Interlude : Full of Briers

As always, spoilers up to The Brightest Fell and October 2018 for the Patreon stories. No spoilers for Night and Silence, and at this point I think I’ll have finished the entire reread by the time I get my copy. Which is just as well.

First off, ‘the winter long’ is one line after ‘rosemary and rue’. Is the final book going to be ‘Grace and Remembrance’? 

I really like TWL. This was a good book, filled with shifting allies and cameos by my favorite people. It’s probably my favorite after The Brightest Fell and not just because of Simon. 

I am going to ignore the fact that the knowe is called ‘Muir Woods’ even before it was named that in 1908. Maybe? Maybe Arden took up the name really quickly. I can’t find a mention of it by name in Patrick’s first short story and I can’t dig up “In Little Stars” right now to check if it was called Muir Woods back then. Patreon’s search sucks.

Onto the ball! A good ball, in which no one gets poisoned or nearly assassinated and Toby doesn’t commit murder. Yeah, if I was her I also wouldn’t want to go to fancy balls. She takes after Sylvester in that regard. 

Speaking of, hi Sylvester! Hi Li Quin!

Arden has social anxiety and needs more friends than Madden. I am surprised no noble Daoine Sidhe have come a-courting. At least she’ll get Walther and Cassandra to take jobs at court soon. 

I love Arden subtly copying Quentin in table manners. 

Are Raven-maids and -men the opposite of Selkies, born birds and need the feathers to transform?  Jazz takes off her band to turn into a raven. Amandine doesn’t, but presumably her magic can force the transformation regardless. Though Amandine does imply that destroying the band will keep her as a human. 

Yes, it’s time to put everyone to bed. Meanwhile, Toby gets to pull some all nighters.

Hello, Simon.

I love how no one has questioned where he was since Late Eclipses, and that only as a brief mention. He’s the tragic backstory, not meant to show up in the present. Oleander was that too, but now she’s dead and can’t hurt anyone anymore. 

Yeah, she was really not expecting that. Why is it that the bad things only happen to Toby during the books? From the plot summaries, the time between the books is the only time she gets to relax.

Yes, that’s not Sylvester. 

It’s sad how much Toby has internalized him as her personal boogeyman. Dugan, Riordan, Samson, the false Queen could all be fought. It wasn’t easy by any means, but here Toby’s given up without a fight which just doesn’t happen. She’s already determined this is a fight she can’t win. 

I love that the first thing Simon does is praise her. He genuinely does not mean her ill-will.

So Simon has not seen Evening in years prior to TWL and did come to warn Toby about it. Or, turn her into a tree for a hundred years, but to him, that is helping. Evening didn’t send him so he must have gotten word somehow that she was returning. Where was he all those years?

Hello Jazz, you have great timing. Sorry that you are once again attacked in your own home.

Simon didn’t come in limping – Toby turning his spell back against him must have hurt him badly.

Why exactly does Simon have so many transformation spells? Is this his own flower-based transformation or something he got from Evening? It could be his own – he once transformed Patrick’s suit into something more modern and there’s no indication that eventually failed. And why fish? Could he have transformed Patrick into a fish so he and Dianda could spend time together in the Undersea without breathing spells? That would be so cute.

Good job on using your cats to warn Tybalt.

I think even May gets over her feelings by the time of TBF, or at least, she’s willing to let him try so they can save Jazz.

All in all, Simon’s going to get what he wants by the end of this book, namely, Toby’s safety. Sure, he’s elf-shot but so’s Evening. It’s TBF where he’s going to get his ass kicked repeatedly.

Same, Quentin – I too have an endless supply of songs about boats. Five bucks says you’re singing “The Mary Ellen Carter”.

Tybalt probably would still shred Simon to pieces given the change but he’s out of the picture for all of TBF.

Why do you think you can predict what Simon’s going to do, Toby? You know literally nothing about his objectives. He’s also willing to answer what he can of your questions and tell you things without being asked.  

The knowe is willing to let Toby through, and she is family. Would the knowe have let Simon through because he helped build it? What about August?

Way to mess it up, Sylvester. You definitely should have told Toby about Simon before you sent her after him. But that’s in the past and doesn’t matter, does it, Sylvester? Just like September, just like August. It can’t hurt you anymore, right?

I do believe the twins were close once, and by 1840 that’s no longer the case, but it doesn’t matter until 1906. You didn’t help enough to find August, or you encouraged her too much, it doesn’t matter. Simon wanted you to hurt the way he hurt, and if you can’t see that, you have forgotten too much.

Yeah, I can’t imagine Simon hurting Amandine unless it was in direct defense of August or Toby. Sylvester, you should know Amandine’s not going to let him back into her life without August present. You should know this, why don’t you know this?

Tybalt, you told them to run, that is not the Torquills’ fault. Hey, remember that decree that says if you want to marry one of the three, that one can’t refuse?

“I need you to live long enough to be cannon fodder when Simon decides to attack.” Quentin loves you too, Toby.

You are missing a vital, vital piece of why Simon was running around with Oleander. He’s not doing it for shits and giggles, Toby.

Poor Luidaeg. It sucks having the answers and not being able to tell them. Toby’s doing better on the questions this time around.

“At least we know that Simon won’t be able to come after us there.” One small problem with that, Toby.

Does each Library have its own library card, or is it an all access pass?

Mags definitely wanted Toby to show up after Simon left. Whoops. And Toby, you still owe her your mother’s history.

Hi again, Simon. Maybe this time you can actually talk?                                                                        

Yeah, the arrangement with Oleander is definitely non-con. Everyone is glad she’s dead except probably Evening.

Simon has three modes in this book: what he thinks will help Toby, what Toby thinks is helpful, and what he does as a servant of Evening. This is the middle interaction – useful information, no one is transformed or hurt.

Toby, remember you still owe Mags info on your mom.

Amandine definitely ruined your life, Toby, even if you don’t want to admit it.

Good job on raising the dead, Toby.

I guess Evening is a vampire? There’s at least one Snow White legend like that.

“Your lover was a Selkie; he told me quite a bit after he died.” How- What- Did the Luidaeg summon the night haunts to talk to Connor?

How long had Simon been sitting on Toby’s doorstep? He must have gotten straight to Shadowed Hills to get the roses and then back to her place. To the rose gardens at least, he couldn’t have gotten into the halls themselves.

This is the other thing – Toby stops again to ask her personal boogeyman for help. She trusts him enough to do that, which is something we don’t see anywhere else in the series. To be fair, Simon does keep insisting that he’s there to help, which is something no other villain does.

And Simon’s convinced she’s going to die.

May’s benched again, which is a recurring theme that she specifically acknowledges. Let this girl have a field trip with Toby.

Although not into the ocean because that’s where everyone ended up! Hi Dianda. Thanks for saving Toby from drowning.

I wonder what would have happened if Toby told Dianda that Simon gave her the warning. Probably nothing good – here’s yet another trusted authority figure who knew about that relationship and didn’t tell her.

Hello Evening. Hate to see you again. If only Dianda could punch you in the face.

Here her magic is roses and snow but I swear I’ve seen it described as roses and apples somewhere.

So where was she these past few years as she recovered? Does she have another knowe?

So why is Marcia not affected by Evening’s magic? Evening doesn’t recognize Marcia as anything other than changeling, I think. But Evening wouldn’t care that much. I really really want her to be Titania. Maeve would be cool too, but I want her to be Titania.

Good thing no one drowned in that little episode, including Tybalt and Quentin.  

Hi Raj! Everything’s ok!

Props to Toby for being willing to burn the Library down to get it to close, and kudos to Mags for listening to her.

And Simon’s playing double agent on the phone. Toby couldn’t have gotten through this book without him.

Toby hasn’t actually slept since before the Yule ball. How many days and nights has it been since then?

So why did Evening get Quentin sent to Shadowed Hills directly after Luna and Raysel’s return? How did they break free?

Riordan was once in Alameda – how did she move down to Dreamer’s Glass?

And how did Sylvester know they were coming? Simon must have told Evening, or maybe Evening assumed Toby would show up.

Hi Etienne, Bridget and Chelsea!

Yes, leave the boys behind to play Xbox games. Good plan.

Luna does have several points about Evening, Raysel and Karen. Why, exactly, does Stacy have two Seer daughters? She is also smart enough to get her favor from Toby before telling Toby what’s going on.

Is Toby going to have to do a favor for every ally she has?

You can take the Daoine Sidhe out of the Torquill but you can’t take the fox-fur hair and golden eyes.

Poor Raysel. I hope this helps her.

Huzzah, Toby gets to sleep!

Hello again, Simon. OK, Toby doesn’t think he told Evening that she called Shadowed Hills. And he’s back at the house.

There’s something to be said for the image of Simon petting Toby’s rosebush-cat for hours.

Yes, everyone needs group therapy, which clearly doesn’t exist in Faerie.

Correction: there’s nothing in his blood now that she could change. If Toby knew enough to look, could she tell immediately? Maida told Toby that she was once a changeling, and now Toby can look at Quentin and see those watermarks. She has since looked at Sylvester and Simon and been unable to tell that they had human blood once, but Toby misses a lot.

Hmm, Toby is not this… intimate with anyone else. Mind walking while riding Simon’s blood? She’s never done this with living people before. I think if he can be saved in the end, it will involve something similar.

Yep, the non-con is strong here. Simon is a fascinating villain.

So what exactly was Simon planning here? Toby is not a tree. She’s out for several hours and up again. Was Simon buying her time?

Hi Luidaeg! Glad to see you up.

Titania also sounds like a shit mother.

Septiminus was Evening’s grandson. He certainly didn’t get his coloring from her.

“Most of her children died young.” But there were enough grandchildren to establish several Daoine Sidhe lines. Aethlin and Maida aren’t closely related to the Torquills or Dugan or Rhys or Riordan.

Maeve took what vengeance she could against Titania for the Luidaeg’s binding and we don’t know what that is, yet.

Ok, yes. This is where the Luidaeg says Evening’s signatures are apples and roses. Her own magic is brackish marshes and ocean air. Toby doesn’t ask about this.

Elizabeth Ryan would probably argue that the Luidaeg stole her heart but she isn’t here right now.  

I am pretty sure Evening is older than the Luidaeg, but the Luidaeg implies Maeve could have had children before her, just not through Oberon. And none of them are living now.

The Luidaeg knows who Amandine’s mother is and can’t say.                                    

Yes Evening, we know you don’t like Dianda and Patrick’s marriage. You can shut up about it now.

Is Dawn one of the things the Luidaeg can’t talk about? She is not mentioned at all in this book, least of all by Toby.

And Simon’s under Evening’s control again. Poor Tybalt.

And Toby’s covered in her own blood again.

Dammit, Sylvester, Simon’s better at giving Toby answers than you are.

Yes, which of the Queens owned that key? And what exactly is it?

Oh you still don’t know better by now, Toby. You are still somewhat blind to what’s going on around you.

Nice job breaking Evening’s spell, Toby.

Oh Simon, you were so close.

Being stabbed with Simon’s elf-shot laced blood is enough to take out a Firstborn but somehow drinking Nolan’s blood didn’t put Toby out.

Though being asleep isn’t going to stop her…

Naww, Tybalt and Toby are cute together.

Man, I really want to see Dianda and Patrick’s reactions on learning that Evening is the Daoine Sidhe Firstborn. And why does no one seem to recall Dawn? Is there a world-wide “don’t think about it” spell? If so, who could cast it?

[lolcat76]

I have a prompt for you if you feel inclined to write it: The Closer era, Sharon gets hurt on the job (you choose how badly) and Andy hears about it through the gravepine because no one knows that they are in a relationship (bonus point if the team is left puzzled by his reaction)

Assuming that Mike accidentally found out they were together in Living Proof. Takes place in the 1st ep of S7 of the Closer.

Captain Raydor’s beenhurt.

It echoes with his heartbeat, every thud beating out the Chief’swords. Speeding up to the point his cardiologist would have a stroke – CAPTAIN RAYDOR’SBEEN HURT pounding in his ears. His throat’s gone dry – he can’t even choke outthe vague words of sympathy the Chief expects to hear because his brain is echoingHURT…HURT…HURT.

And he can’t leave the crime scene, because Captain Raydornot showing up for the audit because she’s been hurt shouldn’t matter a damn tohim, but it does. He’s a good cop, and he loves his job, but he doesn’t give arat’s ass who shot the rapper and his friends in this house, because CaptainRaydor has been hurt, and nobody seems to give a damn.

He can’t ask them to give a damn, either, because CaptainRaydor told him in no uncertain terms that she’d have his balls and his badge(in no particular order) if he ever let his department get wind of theiraffair.

Andy Flynn hates the word affair. Not on principle exactly,but as it relates to his sexual history, he bristles at it. He’s admittedly anasshole but he’s never cheated on his wife, or on the women he dated after hismarriage fell apart. He especially hates it when Sharon refers to what’sbetween them as an affair.

I’m married, shereminds him.

He stopped thinking of Jack Raydor as Sharon’s husband longbefore she slipped that ring off her finger, and that was easily ten years ago.

What they do now, in the privacy of his house or her condo,it sure as hell isn’t an affair. It’s not some tawdry secret sex, though shereminds him every time that it’s a secret. It’s not just a hurried fuck in ahalf-bath, squeezed in between finger sandwiches and champagne toasts at one ofthe many political fundraisers she’s dragged him to over the last two years.

What they’re doing is more real. Isn’t it?

It’s the reason he called her when he got his ass handed tohim after one of his AA meetings. It’s the reason that he’s a dick to her whenshe invades their murder room, but defends him when the rest of his team getssalty about her presence.

“Why are you such adick when you have to share investigations with me? You of all people shouldknow I’m just doing my job.”

“Yeah, and you of allpeople should know that nobody likes an IA investigation.” He lifted his headoff her stomach, kissing slowly down her belly until he came to rest at thejunction of her thighs. “Nobody likes a bossy woman sticking her nose in whereit doesn’t belong.”

He licked into her,slowly at first, and then with more heat. “You’re driving us all crazy.”

She moaned, thenhummed, and finally screamed as his tongue brought her to release.

“Crazy,” he murmured ashe found her mouth again. God, he’d never get enough of the taste of her on hislips as he kissed her. “We’d like you so much more if you’d just stay away.”

“And it so easy, LieutenantFlynn, to stay away, hmm?”

It wasn’t hard to stay away from him; she’d proven that overand over again since the first time they’d slept together. Even when he’d beenthe one in the hospital, her visit had been brief, and she’d left him to goinvestigate what he later found out was a case about him.

No, what was hard was staying away from her.

And now she’s in the hospital, and he can’t go see herwithout his entire team figuring out that his feelings toward their FID liaisonin the Tyrell Baylor case are possibly less than antagonistic and more thanplatonic.

“Agents Flynn and Tao, please visit the lab and gentlyremind them that we need our results immediately.”

“Yes, Chief, “ they echo.

“GENTLY,” she yells after them. Fuck the chief, he’ll gettheir result. He’ll get them immediately, and he’ll send them along with Tao.

USC Medical Center is just a short drive up the street fromthe county forensics lab.

***

It’s not a police matter, what landed her in the hospital.An overeager agent’s assistant rear-ended her on the 101. She should have beenat Cedars, or at Kaiser because it was closer to her condo, but she wound up atUSC Med because even LAPD insurance has its limits.

Whiplash, a broken nose from the airbag, and strongpossibility of a concussion. I shouldhave been there, he thinks, when he sees her lying in the hospital bed.

“I should have been there,” he says, out loud this time,when she realizes that she’s not alone in the room.

“You should have been…where, exactly? Grocery shopping withme, instead of investigating the death of a rapper?”

Fuck the rapper. “Yeah,”he says, hoping that the smile he gives her is convincing.

“Liar.” She puts on a good show for him, smiling back even thoughhe knows for a fact that it hurts like hell to smile with a broken nose.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he says, because he’s an idiot and hedoesn’t know anything more soothing to say. He has other things he’d like totell her, but she doesn’t want to hear them, so he says what he thinks shewants to hear. Sitting on her bed, squeezing her hand, he hopes she knows whathe wants to say.

“I’m going to be fine,” she reassures him in those clipped NewEngland tones of hers. Nobody would ever know that they grew up less than ahundred miles apart. “And you need to get back to work.”

Like hell. He’s just about to argue when Tao ducks his headin the room. He gives a stilted wave to the captain, then gestures with thefolder to Andy.

“Interesting findings,” Tao whispers. “Might need somefollow-up. Maybe I should go back to the Murder Room and you should stay hereto lean on any questions we might have for the lab?”

Andy flips through the folder, seeing both the lab resultsand any questions Mike might have, along with their answers. Written in detail,medical terms spelled out phonetically, just in case someone might call forclarification. “Looks like a lot of questions.”

“Might take all day,” Mike agrees, then nods at the woman inthe bed. “Captain.”

“Lieutenant.”

Mike disappears, and Andy doesn’t say anything for a moment.He doesn’t want her to know that he’s rattled by the sight of her in a hospitalbed. She wouldn’t like that – it would be breaking the rules of their affair, thathe might care too much about her. That he might want to find the punk that rear-endedher and beat the shit out of him. That he might very well open himself up to aninvestigation of excessive force, because Sharon Raydor is hurt, and she’s in ahospital bed, and fuck the rules, he’ll take the suspension if it means that hecan get rid of the pit in his stomach at seeing her so pale in a hospital bed.

He doesn’t want to upset her, but Andy Flynn was never verygood at rules. But she is, and he’s not good at making her happy – not yet –but he’s better than he used to be. So he’ll stay here with her and hope that’senough. “Seems I have some time to kill,” he says. He pulls a chair up to her bedsideand takes her hand.

“Seems you do,” she agrees. She curls her fingers into his,then tugs him closer, and closer still, until he’s settled on the bed next toher, her head resting on his chest.

“We should thank him,” he murmurs. At this point, knowingthat she’s hurt, but not seriously, he’ll thank anyone who cares to listen.

He’s never heard her make a noise like that, a snort that isdefinitely not in keeping with the very carefully cultured image of SharonRaydor. “Mike Tao owes me,” she says, and he’ll never admit it, but he fallsjust a little more in love with how satisfied she sounds. “Thank him if youwant to, but he won’t say a word.”

Of course he won’t say a word. Mike Tao might be the mostboring person Andy’s ever met, but he’s also the most loyal. Mike would neverbetray his teammate in Major Crimes as a matter of conscience, but he’d alsonever betray Sharon Raydor as a matter of personal integrity.

Thank God Provenza wasn’t sent to the lab with him.

“So,” he says, “you gonna get out of here tonight?”

She sighs, and he catalogues that with all the other breathynoises that she makes. He loves them all. “The doctor says I have to havesupervision for the next 48 hours.”

He’s gonna thank Mike Tao, and then he’s gonna thank the doctor, and then he’s gonna take her home and not let her out of his sight until she physically kicks him out of her condo.“I think that can be arranged.”

[everlark-your-own-adventure]

Powder Keg - Ch 8

Merry Christmas everlarkers (or for those of you who don’t celebrate Christmas - Happy Monday!) Welcome back to the adventure we’re all everlarking together! Fallen behind in the story? Here are the previous chapters:

Chapter 1 /// Chapter 2 /// Chapter 3 /// Chapter 4 /// Chapter 5 /// Chapter 6 /// Chapter 7

Last week, our cinnamon bun and his huntress spend some cheese bun time rebuilding their friendship and the trust between them. But at the end of Katniss’s medical leave you, everlarkers, voted in the narrowest margin possible for her to keep her reemerging romantic feelings to herself. Quelle horreur!! What’s going to happen now? Are everlark doomed to dwell in the friendzone forever? To answer your questions (maybe), @xerxia31 takes the helm for this Yuletide chapter of Powder Keg. Grab your wassail and settle in for the continuation of our saga. And remember, you have 48 hours to vote, until noon, Wednesday, December the 27th. Vote in the comments or reblogs, not in the tags! And as always, share with your friends, more voices = more fun! Ready? Here we go…

When the alarm goes off, I’ve slept no more than three hours and all of them fitful. I tossed and turned nearly all night, my mind full of Peeta, frightened by how quickly all of the warm and curious feelings from three years ago have come back.

A hundred times in the dark, I decided I’d tell him how I feel. A hundred and one times, I talked myself out of it. I don’t think I’ve ever been so conflicted. My life, or at least my life since my childhood was cut short, has been a straight line of survival, one single path with no deviations, each day moving forward, the only goal staying alive, and keeping Prim and my mom alive.

But my life is different now. My mother is working, and though it’s early, it seems like this one might stick. She seems more grounded, more present, and if not happy, at least content. Stable. And Prim has grown and flourished, turned into a wonderful, strong, independent young woman who doesn’t need me to protect her anymore. For the first time in my adult life, I have a little bit of space to think about my own needs. My own heart.

A pillow smacking me in the face, followed by a bout of girlish giggles, has me rethinking my assessment of my sister. “Come on, Katniss,” Prim laughs, climbing into bed with me. “It’s time to get up. Your ride will be here soon.” I roll my eyes at her inflection, she’s as subtle as a truck.

“I know,” I groan, but I snuggle up next to her anyway, enjoying the comfort of a quiet morning with my favourite person in the world. “What do you want for Christmas, Little Duck?” The big day is less than two weeks away; I haven’t done any shopping yet, too engrossed in working and, honestly, in Peeta.

“I want my sister to be happy,” she says, tugging on my bed-headed braid. I shake my head, but hug her hard. “And maybe a ticket to the Mockingjays concert?” she says into my collar, and I laugh.

o-o-o

The drive through sleepy, snowy Panem to the medical centre is quiet. Peeta showed up at my house just before noon, bearing cheese buns and a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Part of me wonders if he’s as sad as I am about the impending end of our carpooling arrangement. But I’m too much of a coward to ask.

The doctor fits me with a brace to give my knee just a little extra support, then clears me to resume normal activity. It’s what I want, what I’ve wanted the past three weeks. But when I tell Peeta, who waited for me in the waiting room, I can’t even muster up a smile. Neither can he.

Back in his truck, Kelly Clarkson crooning her grown up Christmas wish through the crackly speakers, Peeta exhales loudly. “Since neither of us have to work today,” he says, “do you maybe want to test out that knee?”

My heart thumps wildly for five, ten, fifteen seconds before I clue in that he means go for a few runs down the ski hills. My stomach flops with the strangest mix of fear and anticipation to be back on my skis, and disappointment that Peeta didn’t have something else in mind. As if sensing my hesitation, he glances sideways at me. “You have to get back on the slopes as soon as possible, before the fear takes hold. Isn’t that what you told me once?”

I did tell him that, in what feels like another lifetime, when he was recovering from a badly twisted ankle. And he trusted me then, even though he was afraid. Trusted that I would be by his side, that I wouldn’t make him face it alone. “Yeah,” I say. “Okay, sure.” He smiles, just a little, then pilots his big truck up the highway, towards the lodge.

It’s still early when we arrive, there are a few people on the slopes, but not the crowd we’ll have later this afternoon. Peeta parks the truck, and scampers around to open my door before I can wave him off, even offering me a hand for the climb down. And while I don’t really need his help anymore, I take his hand, enjoying the warmth and solidity of his palm against my own.

My gear and his are still tucked into our respective lockers, we kit up quietly, then head out. Though I know I’m fine, can feel snug neoprene safeguarding my knee, I can’t help but be nervous. “Why don’t we start with Victory Tour,” Peeta says softly, nodding towards the green-level run that’s popular with recreational skiers. Its wide, lazy turns gently undulate down the mountain. It’s pretty, but not too challenging.

We share a chair, and I fidget as we begin our ascent, but Peeta grabs my gloved hand, and that simple act born of friendship and compassion calms me. I'm so glad to have him in my life again. As I clutch his hand tightly I realize that no matter what else I feel for Peeta, this is enough. Just having his friendship is enough.

Standing at the top, gazing out over the sparkling white valley below, it’s like being five years old again. Like the first time my dad stood me at the top of the bunny hill, the unknown spreading before me, infinite possibilities, if only I was brave enough to reach for them. And now I need to be brave again. “I’ll be with you the whole way,” Peeta says. With a deep breath, I plant my poles in the snow and push.

The first couple of turns are slow, tentative, as I get used to the feeling of moving again. But muscle memory kicks in fast, and before I know it, I’m flying down the mountain, laughing as loose snow peppers my face. Exhilarated. Alive.

I skid to a stop at the bottom, spraying snow in a graceful arc with my skis, still laughing as I pull off my helmet and tip my face up to the winter sky. True to his word, Peeta is right there with me, beaming. “You did it,” he laughs, pulling off his helmet. “It’s like you haven’t missed a single day.”

I look up at Peeta, his handsome face is sporting the first real smile I’ve seen all day. I’m practically euphoric, breathing heavily, chest heaving as the adrenaline and sense of achievement embolden me. And I decide I can be brave one more time.

He leans in at the same time as I reach for him, our lips meet in a kiss that’s nearly three years overdue. A kiss that tastes like affection and jubilation and maybe even a little bit of anger. He moans against my lips, low and guttural, gloved hand gripping the back of my neck, tilting my head authoritatively. There’s no hesitation in this kiss, no gentle discovery. His tongue plunders my mouth, demanding, taking. And I meet him stroke for stroke, greedy for the taste of him after so long.

We kiss and kiss, completely oblivious to our surroundings, to the cold that freezes sweaty tendrils of my hair into icicles, to the other skiers who zip by. Lost in each other, making up for all of the time we’ve wasted. It’s only when some stupid teenager calls out to us to get a room that we reluctantly break the kiss. But Peeta doesn’t let me go, instead he pulls me in as tightly as our skis and gear allow, pressing kisses to my cheek, my cold ear, my temple.

I wish I could freeze this moment, and live in it forever. But I’m starting to shiver, standing still in the wind and with my helmet lying in the snow. Peeta too is trembling. “I have dreamed of doing that for so long, Katniss,” he whispers, hot puffs of air lifting goosebumps on my skin. With one last squeeze, he pulls away and reaches for my helmet and his own. “Once more?” he asks, his voice a little gruffer than usual, and I raise a partially frozen eyebrow at him. He laughs, a real, free, joyful laugh, the first I’ve heard in years. “Come on, Everdeen,” he says, still chuckling. “Let’s see how you do on the double diamonds.”

We ski for hours, sometimes racing, sometime carving patterns together. On the cold chairlift rides back up, he wraps his arm around me and we talk, really talk, catching up on three years of friendship. We don’t kiss again, don’t talk about dating or relationships or anything scary like that. Which is good, because my determination that right now we should only be working on making our friendship stronger is fading fast.

When the slope lights flicker on at three-thirty I’m shocked. Time has always passed quickly, effortlessly when I’m on the hills. And apparently also when I’m with Peeta. “Ready to go in?” he asks. “I think I’m done for the day.” He grabs my hand and makes a show of towing me towards the lodge while I laugh. And he keeps holding my hand, even as we ditch our skis and helmets.

We’re still holding hands when we walk into the staff lounge. Johanna is curled up in one of the shabby cast-off chairs, she glances over at our arrival, and I squirm, waiting for some smart-ass remark about our entwined hands. But I don’t get one. “You medically cleared, Everdeen?” she asks, and I nod. “Halle-freaking-lujah,” she says. “I have a buttload of tourists coming in from Topeka tomorrow.” She sighs. “None of them have even seen a mountain before. They’re going to be keeping you all busy for six solid days.”

Peeta and I look at each other, and matching grins crawl across our faces. Six fully booked days of private lessons? That’ll make a huge dent in the earnings I missed out on. It couldn’t come at a better time. I’m just about the suggest a celebratory hot chocolate when Johanna continues. “Staff Christmas party is tomorrow night.” The lodge’s annual employee Christmas gathering, the very same one where everything Peeta and I had been building towards three years ago fell apart. The timing is ironic. “I put you down as bringing cinnamon buns, Mellark,” Johanna says, oblivious to my discomfort.

Or maybe not so oblivious. “Better be the good ones.” She climbs out of her chair, sauntering towards us and making a big production of licking her lips and rubbing her stomach, before turning to me. “Everyone wants his buns,” she says, and the intentional double entendre is not lost on me. I pull my hand out of Peeta’s and wrap my arms around myself. “You coming too, Brainless? I didn't see your name on the sign up board.”

And just like that, all of the pain of three years ago comes rushing back full force, along with every old insecurity. The slamming of the staff room door cuts off Johanna’s cackling, replacing it with a tense silence. “I’ve never done anything with Johanna,” Peeta says beside me, barely a whisper. I nod at my ski boots. I’m sure he hasn’t, Jo loves to torment me, to tease me about being too straight-laced and hard to swallow, that’s all her little show was about. But it doesn’t stop the unease. His reputation as a player is, after all, well-earned, and hard to forget. “Katniss? Please look at me.”

I do, and his expression nearly guts me. It’s the same defeated expression he wore in the cave, the same one I used to see when his mother would pick on him. “I know you said you wanted to be just friends,” he whispers. “And I promised myself that I wouldn't push you. But you have to know, I’ve never gotten over you. I want…” He closes his eyes and takes a deep, shuddering breath. When he reopens them, they’re so full of pain that I can’t look away. “I want to erase the past three years. I know,” he shakes his head. “I know it’s not possible. But maybe…” he trails off again, as if his silver tongue has failed him completely.

The need to comfort him rises up again, and this time I don’t push it away. When I squeeze his arm, he lifts his gaze, pinning me with a look of earnest intensity. “I want a do-over, Katniss. Come with me to the party. Let me fix what I fucked up three years ago.”

I have no doubt he’s completely sincere, I can see the fear and determination warring in his expression. I’m terrified too. Three years ago, we found ourselves in exactly the same situation, and we both got burned. We’re older now, wiser, maybe even a little braver. But we can’t actually go back in time.

What do I do? Go to the party with Peeta, trust that he’s not the player he seems to be, open my heart up knowing that if it doesn’t work out I’ll be shattered? Or play it safe, go Christmas shopping for Prim instead of to the party, and keep working on building a solid friendship with Peeta for now?

[anonplusultra-blog]

Faux Sèrum

<Hey Elsa, still wake :s|

|Yeah, what up Anna?>

<Just wanted to remind you that you can text me if you feeling| lonely or idk anythin                                                                   |

|Don't worry love, we'll talk at lunch. See ya tmrr babe>

<uh?. kay G'night babe?|

Well she did sounded happier than our emotional lunch a couple days ago. But 'babe', I didn't think Elsa was the type of girl that would call her friends babe, she is usually more reserved and formal, even when addressing me, her own sister.

My phone clock said it was fifteen past one, I really hope she gets some sleep, she already missed Literature yesterday because she over slept.

My eyes were almost giving up the fight, my breath became slower and I was finding the sweet spot laying on my side... until my eyes connected with pale green bright ones across my bed. "Aah! Oh, its just- I'm sorry Rory, but your eyes were like ghostly for a sec. Uh did my phone wake you up?"

"Not really, I was thinking about a story I read this afternoon online, it was about these two brothers that had a legal dispute over the rights to an App that got very popular lately. And then I was thinking about you and Elizabeth, as a complete opposite to their relationship" Is she...who's Elizabeth? "You and your sister seem to be really close. I'm an only child so I guess always wanted a sister. I mean Malena... my step mom is like an older sister to me, almost. She is turning thirty two this month and I'm nineteen, but to be honest she looks younger"

"Wait, you're older than me... how?, you look like thirteen. Are you sure you're not like a fairy or one of those kids from Peter Pan's stories?" I really thought she was some sort of genius thirteen year old that got here for her brains. And she is so cute! "You are adorable"

"Should I take that as a compliment" aw, is she blushing? Wait-wait a second. Am I, am I flirting with Rory? Sure, she is mysterious and a cutie but. Oh, I think I'm flirting with her. It wouldn't be the first time, and we're not in high school anymore, this won't be one of those hey let's be lez and make out for funsies, we are adults now, we could be girlf-partn-we might be serious about it. Take it slow, she might not be into girls, there are still straight girls... probably out there in the world. And even if they feel attracted to other girls it might not be serious.

"Hum, yeah. Totally babe" real smooth you dumb dumb "I mean its totally late" saved! "Yaaaaawn~, goodnight Rory".

I couldn't keep eye contact with her after that and pretended to be sleeping by facing to the wall and hugging my pillow tight. I wonder what was keeping Elsa up this late, and well I have to tell her about Rory and I'm sure she will support me, and maybe she will finally come out of the closet.

Elsa has never had a boyfriend... or a girlfriend either, but I know she is not asexual. I once saw her laptop's browser history, her searches where mostly about something called first time videos, no boys in those videos for what I watched.

She didn't have a date for prom, instead she asked me to be her date which was very sweet but it was when Hans and I were dating. That did not end well, Elsa went back into a depression which I could help her overcome, I had to, it was my fault after all. Hans wasn't even worth it, he just wanted to fulfill some sexual fantasy. Asshole. I regret dating him, Elsa was right about him all along.

Ugh, why is sleeping so hard now! Every time I try to stop thinking and sleep, I start thinking about Elsa or Rory, or both. I guess I can't wait 'till tomorrow, I'll send Elsa a text. No! I can't wake her up just for that!

Even if I get any sleep, tomorrow is going to be a hard day...

And indeed it was. I was so distracted by the sleep deprivation that during volley classes I broke my 'ball to the face' record. Although one of them was because I thought seeing Elsa, guess I got hit in the head a lot that day. The last time Elsa came to one of my games or practices was back in high school. Her excuse for not coming to see me was that our uniforms were too revealing and uncomfortable to wear and some weird feminist term I can't quite recall. I never told her that I helped designing the Arendelle's Amazons team uniform.

ooo

Today was a hard day. All thru the night I had to fight the urge to comply to mirror's Anna requests. Since two days ago, when I decided to own the wrong feelings towards my sister, and accepted her fictional kisses and roaming hands, Anna has gotten bolder and is firmly determined to go where no other has ever been.

She wants us to do something so despicable... yet I know she only wants it because, I, because I want her too. But we can't. I had complied and let her touch me lustfully from head to toe. I have felt her hands massage, squeeze and pinch into the soft flesh of my breasts, her lips and saliva seducing my neck, my fingers, my nipples, my nose and my lips. I let her feel all of me... except for my sex. There is where I've drawn a line. Its ridiculous and even I find it a nuisance, but once we cross that invisible line, we could no longer be who we are now. We would no longer be human, we would be no better than animals. How could I do that to her if I love her, strip her away from her humanity, making her but a lust beast.

The only way I have managed to stop her from advancing any further is exercise. I have done about a hundred squats or even more, maybe the sore muscles are enough punishment in her eyes or she ends up as tired as I am by the end of the day. Mirror Anna had the idea of visiting the real Anna's volley practice this morning, and she did, she even took some photos of Anna. I still don't get why an athlete has to wear those tiny shorts to play volley. Which is the same reason I'm doing squats five minutes before Anna comes to my dorm with pizza slices and probably looking... I need more squats.

Knock-Knock. The sound from the lower part of the door, Anna was kicking the wood, her hands must be occupied with the pizza. I'm sitting on the floor, sweating and sore, my muscles inflamed and my mind... pure. I force my self up, a grunt escaping my throat. "I'm coming, Anna, just a second" every step a needle of quick pain thru my legs. I take a deep breath and turn the knob opening the door and inviting Anna in.

"Pizza is here!" said my sister cheerful as ever.

She indeed had a nine inch plain white box, a can of coca~cola for us to share and a pair of straws. And then I had to look at her, her beautiful face holding an honest warm smile my face can't avoid replicating. I take the box from her and place it on the desk going around my bed, Anna tilts her head to right showing confusion. She kicks her shoes off and walks thru the bed setting down the coke on the desk and sitting down on my bed.

She looks at me joyfully and pats the spot to her left presenting it for me to sit by her side. I can't help but smiling and feeling a blush crawl under my cheeks. I took of my sneakers and took a step forwards when Anna extended her hand in front of her signaling me to stop. "Are those new pants?" her chocolate eyebrows knitted together.

"N-No, m-m-mom gave th-these yoga pan-nts t-t-to me last christ-t-tmas" I was stuttering so much, why?

"Are you sure, you look different. Twirl for me, babe." B-babe?! Where did that came from? Do I really look strange? But, as per usual, I did as Anna requested. "No no. Slower" And I did it again, slower this time.

"S-s-ssee, the same old p-p-pa-ants." her face was thoughtful and intense. And her next words were, acute to say the least.

"Your ass got bigger. But bigger good, you know, not fat or immense. Just fuller, um, how can I... your butt looks good in those pants" We were both blushing red and hot like a flame. And a awkward silence set in for a few seconds longer than I would like it to be.

"I-I-I squats...an-d-d-d thank y-y-you An-Anna" she bursted in a laughter and I followed. She fell on her back as she tried to recover from our cackling up.

I sat down next to her still chuckling a bit. Her skirt had risen a couple of inches up and her thighs were at full display, but what my eyes were seeking for was barely peeking into my sight, her green- No! stop it. Pizza night, and that's it. Behave like a sentient being Elsa, focus. I looked away from her and my eyes met the mirror across the dorm. And I saw myself kissing Anna, like I would kiss the other Anna. Shook my head to make sure it was nothing more than a mere mesmerism. It was.

Anna sit up and wipe some tears the laughing had brought to her eyes. "We are such dorks. Oh, that made me so hungry. Let's eat before the pizza gets cold and our can of soda gets warm" if only she knew how hard this visit has been to me.

We ate the pepperoni and cajun style spiced slices of pizza, and clean the fatty oily sensation drinking the can of soda with two straws, one for each, although, I worry I might have sipped from Anna's a few times both being identical white plastic same lengthened generic straws. This night was the best I had in a long time, but it was fated to die.

All the fun, our pleasant chat, all would end with Anna going back to her own dorm.

Anna got up and stretched until her back pop the air off her spine joints and mewl with satisfaction. She put on her shoes back and took a last look at the mirror to check her makeup. "My dorm doesn't have a mirror"

"Please stay! Jus-Just-t-t for the night, please, An-Anna."

She turned to me with a disappointing look, I knew what her answer was going to be "I can't stay Elsa, I'm sorry. but, I have Volley courses tomorrow early in the morning".

It hurt. Having her just for a moment every day, when I deserved to have her by my side. I felt anger, sadness, yearning all bottled up in my chest ready to burst. "I-I don't care ab-bout your stupid volley. Y-you only play it because of the slut uniforms they wear..." hot tears ran thru my face as I collapsed to my knees. Why was I pushing her away? Why couldn't I just... accept it, that there is no Anna and Elsa, not in the way my mind has made it to be lately.

But then warmth wrapped my body, Anna was holding me, on her knees, crying. I don't deserve her. "I know how much it hurts Elsa, and believe me, it hurts me too. And calling me a slut or whore or a cunt, will not work on me, you can't hurt me, because you love me more than anyone will ever love me, and we know that".

I don't deserve her.

My tears kept rolling down my cheeks, like healing rain, cleansing the pressure off my chest. My eyes seek hers, I swallow hard and cease breathing, my lips draughting a kiss that Anna with no hesitation participates in. Chaste, nothing but a peck for her, but to me... it was a promise. A promise to Anna, 'I will try'.

Anna still loves to break mom's rule. I know that, as chaste as our kisses are, siblings our age don't kiss each other on the lips, but we are not just siblings, not just sisters... we are special. And I think she missed this too. Not in the same way I do, but it still makes me feel a little better.

"There, better now sweetie?" I was, so I nodded "Uhm, so, my roommate Rory, well..." she was scratching the back of her neck and her eyes leaving mine "she told me about this social worker that can help... us, with, well you know like therapy. We could go tomorrow... if you want of course."

"M-m-maybe it would hel-p. Th-th-thanks, An-nn-na, for being here for me" she fought tears creeping in her eyes and helped me get up.

We said goodnight, and she left. I closed the door and there in front of me was Anna in the mirror sitting on the bed and pretending to be weary.

"Finally, she left. I really thought for a moment there that she would ruin our night. And... tonight will be the night, right babe?"

I did not responded. But instead, I undressed and hid myself under the red wig.

I did not want to fight myself no more.

Tonight was going to be the night.

Tonight, I would stop being a human...

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers Annual #7 + Marvel Two-In-One Annual #2

December, 1977

A joyous various winter type time period for you and yours!

Due to these issues issues coincidentally falling in December and also wanting to get back to the main book as soon as possible, I’m doubling up issues in this post. It’s a Yule-esque miracle, perhaps.

I wanted to get this out last Friday but I couldn’t make it in time before I had to visit my family for pre-Christmas.

Anyway, lets get into it.

The Avengers and Captain Marvel and some jerk named Adam Warlock team up to fight Thanos.

We’ve seen this before but the Avengers got kicked off the field so Drax and Captain Marvel got to hog all the Thanos to themselves. Maybe they’ll get their asses beat by him personally this time.

Dangit, maybe I should have saved this for when Infinity War came out? Eh. I can always cover Infinity Gauntlet. Its Avengers-adjacent.

Without further ado, let us commence without stealing someone’s catchphrase.

We start with Adam Warlock being moody and in space, the two prime facets of his character.

In brief, Adam Warlock was created by evil scientists to be the Perfect Man. He was then beaten near death by Thor and went back to his cocoon. Later, the High Evolutionary named him Warlock, gave him the Soul Gem, and sent him to Counter-Earth to become its champion where he gained the name Adam. Then he became involved in a predestination paradox with his evil future self the Magus and had to murder himself in the future to prevent his evil future self from existing. Thanos helped with this for his own nefarious purposes.

Warlock has been tracking Thanos, following the trail of destruction as it were. But he finds Gamora, Thanos’ most faithful servant.

Gamora is a lot different than in the movies. For one thing, she’s dying.

She discovered his secret plan of Stellar Genocide to wipe out all life and so he left her for dead.

Gamora: “He’s quite mad, you know.”

She says, master of understatement.

Gamora also reveals that the only person Thanos fears is... ADAM WARLOCK.

Warlock swears he’ll hunt down Thanos. But he won’t do it alone. bwoop. His forehead jewel eats Gamora’s soul. As it do.

He also scream exposits at no-one that he thought Thanos was a friend but Chaos and Order whispered to him while he slept that Thanos was a betrayer and also that Warlock is the Champion of Life, the natural foe to Thanos, Champion of Death.

Usually its worrying when voices tell you not to trust your friends but Warlock is kind of intense so I won’t tell him if you won’t.

Shouting into the void done, Warlock heads off to Earth. Which is a good segue for the Avengers portion of this Avengers Annual.

It is a dark and stormy night. Iron Man is brooding by the window. Scarlet Witch is trying to get Vision to go talk to him. And Beast has revised his policy on kissing and telling with Cap apparently into it.

Scarlet Witch finally convinces Vision to talk to Iron Man by basically saying they’re the same kind of stubborn stoic jerk who hides their emotions and Vision is like fine geez good logic.

Iron Man doesn’t really have an answer to give though. He just has a foreboding feeling.

Iron Man: “It’s just that ever since I arrived here tonight, I’ve had this unexplainable feeling of danger -- of forces at play about me. I don’t want to be here but I can’t bring myself to leave!”

Captain Marvel: “That’s because you are meant to be here this night, just as we are.”

CAPTAIN MARVEL (not those ones) AND MOONDRAGON!

Coming in through the window. And dripping on the carpet. Because fuck politeness, amirite?

It took all of my willpower to not edit this panel to have Tony say “Iron nipples... rigid! They sense danger!”

Because why would you choose that panel and pose to detail his chest dials?

I wonder how awkward it is for Iron Man and Moondragon to be in the same room. He was kind of an ass to her the majority of the short time she was on the team. And then she sabotaged his new roster by quitting and then convincing Thor and Hellcat to also quit.

Maybe that’s why it seems like they’re glaring at each other. Or perhaps Tony is just mad she’s taller than him.

Anyway, weird feelings are going around because Captain Marvel and Moondragon were also drawn to the mansion with a premonition that their powers would be needed.

This same premonition must have also drawn part-time Avenger Thor here.

‘No, I just wanted to hear stories about Beast’s love life. Now was this hair curling an euphemism or did grooming serve as foreplay in this encounter?’ Thor might have said.

Okay. Maybe I’m curious. Don’t judge me.

Anyway, the Avengers and guests ponder what kind of horror might be approaching that would need such an assemblage to stop.

A few hundred light-years away, a Playstation rendered TIE Fighter shoots a beam at a star and then the star kerplooies.

And a few hundred light-years back, Moondragon feels millions of voices cry out in terror and then were suddenly silenced.

I’m not being flippant. She basically Obi-wans.

Beast is being flippant. Doing card tricks and laughing off the idea of psychic screams and talking winds. This from the guy who was on a team with Professor X and Jean Grey. Won’t be laughing once Jean pulls the same shit on a different star, I tell you that.

He also won’t be laughing right now because Adam Warlock appears out of nowhere just to sass Beast.

I truly believe Adam Warlock’s true superpower is drama. He’s even got his own weird speech bubble quirk.

Anyway, he’s another person for this assemblage. But he also brings word of their common foe: THANOS.

Apparently it was supposed to be sort of a surprise? They haven’t said his name until now but if you’ve read any of the stuff Adam Warlock appeared in you’d recognize that Gamora worked for Thanos and the distinctive shape of Thanos’ ship, which is not actually a poorly rendered TIE Fighter. Its actually much bigger.

If you haven’t read any of the previous Adam Warlock stuff well then sucks to be you. He’s barely introduced here in this Avengers book.

But Thanos? Thanos gets a whole page of recap and introduction. By Adam Warlock. His best frenemy.

What’s weird is that apparently everyone is making faces like ‘yeah we know all this already’ and Warlock sees those faces but just keeps plunging on anyway.

So yeah we get through the stuff where he turned into a giant wireframe head in space and Captain Marvel chopped a Cosmic Cube to bits.

Now apparently Thanos is one of those villains who doesn’t think they could possibly lose but sets up some contingencies just in case. See also: Ultron.

Being ungodded left Thanos floating helplessly in space. And apparently he can breath in space. But then his not TIE-ship retrieved him and he began scheming anew.

But here’s the problem (from Thanos’ perspective): Death abandoned him for his failure. So he decided he needed a grand romantic gesture to win her back. Aka: where most of Thanos’ horrible atrocities start.

And on a scroll from a dead world, he found his answer. And the answer is what his answer always is. Gathering the six shiny things.

Yup.

This is the first time Thanos gathers the Soul Gems. Later to be called Infinity Gems once Thanos in a later story realizes he kind of underestimated them.

Actually the Infinity Gems got a bit of play before they were revealed to be Collect Them All Become God powerful. The Elders once tried to use them to kill Galactus because they were mad he was older than they were.

We get a brief montage of Thanos retrieving all the Gems. Stealing one from the Stranger, liberating another from a prison satellite, finding one in a cave, getting one as an epic drop from killing a monster named Xiambor, and finding one on the Moon because of course there’s one on the Moon.

The final one he was afraid to make a grab for because it was Adam Warlock’s Soul Gem and could steal Souls.

Instead, Thanos pretended to be his friend, worked together with him to defeat Warlock’s evil future self Magus because comics, and secretly siphoned off some energy from Warlock’s forehead bling without Warlock even knowing.

And then he transferred those energies and the energies of the other five Gems into a giant synthetic Gem. A truly, truly outrageous plan.

Truly a better telling of how he collected six things then the full miniseries that preceded Infinity Gauntlet and was just Thanos being smarter, stronger and more handsome than anyone else ever. I heard Thanos was shredded. I heard he had an eight pack. Etc.

When Gamora discovered that he planned on blowing up every star, she tried to backstab him but she was no match alas.

So most of this exposition Warlock learned by eating her soul with his forehead.

Meanwhile, hundreds of light years away, Pip the Troll arrives at Thanos’ Sanctuary ship to pay the “old gang” a visit. Nobody seems to be home so Pip loudly talks to himself, objectifying Gamora and insulting Thanos and basically digging himself into a hole.

I mean, in fairness, Thanos would have killed him either way. Now that he doesn’t need to pretend to be nice to Warlock, there’s no need to be civil to Pip either.

Lets just assume that something bad happens off-screen. Because we are changing scenes again.

So we have Thanos a) doing something crazy as a grand romantic gesture for Death and b) gathering several powerful gems. What’s next on our Thanos bingo game?

Invading Earth with a giant space armada? -checks- Yup.

And its such a giant space armada its twice the size of the giant Skrull armada from the Kree-Skrull War. These imaginary numbers are way bigger than those imaginary numbers!

(How does Thanos keep getting people to sign up with him if he inevitably leads them to their deaths and then laughs at them??)

The Avengers prepare to go fight an entire space armada by themselves again (seriously, start building space defenses, the Earth). And Adam Warlock just skips out without so much as a goodbye.

As the heroes prepare to go into battle we get some good character beats from each of them. And they each kind of lead into each other. Its good stuff.

Moondragon ponders how Thanos always shatters any peace she finds. Later on down the line, he even interrupts a date with her girlfriend. Thanos is the worst. Anyway, he also killed her family and caused her to be adopted by Mentor of Titan so really he’s always been screwing up her life.

Iron Man grapples with fear. He’s going to fight Thanos for a fourth time and wonders if he should have his head examined. Each time he’s fought Thanos he barely survived. And the last time the Avengers fought Thanos, they were only able to thwart his schemes. They didn’t even fight the man. Are the Avengers just heading for an unmarked grave among the stars?

(Maybe I should have saved this for Infinity War, geez)

Captain Marvel ponders how little they truly know about Thanos. And also he hugged Death and still lives. Whats the deal with that?

Thor is just thinking ‘man its about time I get to deck this Thanos fellow in the face.’

Vision wondering if decking Thanos will even win the day. Thanos is in effect a mutant demi-god. Because apparently the Titans of Titan are an evolved offshoot of the gods of Olympus. Which I guess makes Hercules and Thanos related? And also, wuh?

Captain America wishes they had more information about Thanos’ firepower and plans. But also suspects that Warlock knew more than he let on. Which will continue to be Cap’s frustration every time he ever works with Adam Warlock, who tends to use the superheroes of Marvel as disposable pawns in his inscrutable chess games.

Beast wonders who Adam Warlock even is. He was skeptical about this whole thing until he looked in Warlock’s eyes, the eyes of someone who has seen life, death, and infinity.

Scarlet Witch though is thinking that Adam Warlock is totally evil and that he and his Soul Gem could one day prove to be their foe.

And hey. She isn’t even wrong. Because Adam Warlock’s Evil side the Magus tries to take over the universe. And his ostensible Good side? She tries to KILL EVERYONE.

I sometimes think Adam Warlock only ever falls mostly on the side of good because of spite against people that side with evil.

And then the time for pondering ends. GIANT SPACE FLEET.

God. What a spread.

The Avengers really should start evolving their strategies against massive space invasions because the plan is still to send Thor and Iron Man out the airlock to dogfight spaceships individually while the Avengers’ shuttlecraft makes a run for Thanos’s H-shaped flagship.

A massive laser cannon aimed at space would be really helpful right now but some jerk time traveler never lets us have one.

Oh. And this is kind of a suicide mission. In that the Avengers looked at the odds and thought welp we’re boned. And decided to snatch victory from the jaws of numerical disadvantage anyway even in dying.

Wait, where the shit is Wonder Man? He usually has something to say about the Avengers grimly and dutifully marching off to their deaths. Usually of the ‘I wish that were me I me I don’t want to die but I do kind of want to retain dignity while I rush into death anyway.’

Anyway. Thor starts breaking space stuff FOR MIDGARD! FOR ASGARD! FOR LIFE! while Iron Man... has to be more indirect. Since repulsors are laser punches, he uses them to redirect the enemy’s ionic rays back into their allies.

Although if you think about it, hitting a spaceship going as fast as it is with a punch laser would probably punch a hole in the hull. No sense putting an extra step into it.

And technically with no sound in space, this would be more accurate:

Just Thor loudly screaming nothing as aliens asphyxiate.

Anyway.

With exactly two people running distraction (even though Captain Marvel can also fly through space I guess they need to keep some muscle to fight Thanos), the Avengers reach Sanctuary II.

Creating a kind of seal with the bomb bay doors somehow, Captain Marvel blasts a hole in the hull.

Beast: “I imagine a small army of aliens is waiting below to massacre us.”

Captain America: “So what are we waiting for, Avengers? LET’S GO!”

Nice.

Just wading hip deep into an army of alien malcontents. Now that’s cosmic.

If Avengers: Infinity War doesn’t have Vision fist a crocodile man, then the Marvel Cinematic Universe has failed.

Anyway, the Avengers do their Avenger things. Beast acrobats around and makes the wise-cracks.

Vision just stands still and lets someone shoot through him. As I get further and further into this liveblog I realize more and more how much Vision can just passively win battles and realize where Wonder Man got the idea from during his pacifism phase.

Scarlet Witch does a probability hex at a pig/bug/devil alien wearing no pants but wearing boots and a belt and bling to make his gun hand explode.

Moondragon smugly asserts that she needs no help. And she also reaches an armament control panel so she can turn the Sanctuary II’s guns against the rest of the fleet.

Also, there’s a giant cyborg space ape named QU’LAR THE MASSIVE.

He lasts for exactly two panels before Captain Marvel tells him to sit on it and possibly ruptures every one of Qu’lar’s organs.

Related to this, it strikes Captain Marvel that things have been a bit too... easy. It was too easy to get through the Sanctuary II’s hull. Too easy to reach it in the first place. And too easy to beat up Thanos’ forces.

If Thanos wanted to stop them, wouldn’t he be throwing worse at them?

He barges into the ship’s central section expecting the other shoe to drop.

Oh hey. Its empty. Well, except for Adam Warlock and Pip the Troll.

Adam Warlock: “His name was Pip, and he was my friend. Perhaps my only friend. He was joy and light to my darkness and damnation. He was unique among the heavens... and Thanos destroyed his mind and left him for me to find. First Gamora, now Pip. All about me those I love are falling. This cannot be allowed to go on. Nor, by my Gem, shall it!”

And Adam Warlock om nom noms Pip the Troll’s soul.

Alas, Pip. You were. Someone who existed. And who I have no strong feelings about at all. I guess Warlock’s Good side trying to kill everyone makes more sense if Pip was his idea of joy and light.

Anyway, by eating Pip’s soul, Warlock now knows what Thanos is really up to. Because Thanos did the villain thing and monologued his plans before destroying Pip’s brains. And Warlock absorbed that knowledge when he ate his soul.

So why did Thanos brag about his plans and then leave Pip’s husk for Warlock to find and learn from? Shrug. Thanos planting the seeds to his own destruction is ridiculously common even at this point. Its why he becomes a farmer later. He got so much experience with planting.

Anyway, Thanos is in an exact replica of his ship (Sanctuary III?) on the other side of the sun. The flagship and the fleet and all was just a distraction.

Of course, the fleet lured the Avengers out here in the first place. If he had just snuck up on the sun and destroyed it, he might have gotten away with it. More seed planting, perhaps.

But even as Warlock and Marvel approach the apparent real Sanctuary II, it fires its Starkiller at the Sun and starts suncrushing it.

The Sun goes red and purple and begins to flare. Eight minutes later, some astronomers are really going to freak.

But not if Captain Marvel has anything to say about it! He full-speed rams into the ion-laser projector that Thanos’ big synthetic Soul Gem was housed on.

I mean, maybe aim for the big gem next time, Marv?

Because Thanos is like oh darn I guess I’ll just replace the projector and get back to murdering stars?

Then Adam Warlock finally catches up and proclaims that he’s going to kill Thanos.

He gets one punch in before Thanos counterattacks and mortally wounds Warlock.

And since he’s dying anyway, Thanos asks if he’ll rely a message to Death.

Thanos: “Tell her I follow shortly behind you, bringing an offering of undreamed of magnitude... the stars!”

-Warlock plops to the ground, probably not going to deliver that message at all-

Thanos actually seems kind of disappointed on how smoothly this is going. He expected the Champion of Life to be more of a challenge.

THEN THOR AND IRON MAN BURST IN

Because its just one thing after another with heroes.

While Thor and Thanos exchange fisticuffs and... hammercuffs? Iron Man decides to attack the big shiny thing. Because he for one knows you attack the weak point for massive damage.

With the giant synthetic Soul Gem decided, Thanos’ plans and his chance to regain his love’s favor have been thwarted.

He teleports away, vowing that they’ve earned his enmity and will have few remaining minutes of life.

But I’m sure that everything is fine and will continue to be fine forever.

So now what?

Captain Marvel wakes up, probably with a horrible headache, after his face first tour of Thanos’ projector. And he sees Warlock talking to Warlock?

Whaaaaaaaaaat?

Okay, so context. In the Adam Warlock comic, Adam Warlock traveled into the future to absorb his own soul to keep his future self from becoming his evil future self the Magus.

In-universe, this only happened months ago. And also right now.

But the months have felt like an eternity to Adam Warlock as everything he has ever loved or accomplished has fallen to ruin or died. His whole life has been a failure and he welcomes its end.

So Adam Warlock om nom noms his own soul.

And goes back to his present to live out the events that will lead him to getting his soul eaten by himself.

All the while having the soul of Adam Warlock inside and outside the soul gem.

COSMIC!

Having watched this all, Captain Marvel is mostly confused. As is anyone else who didn’t read the Adam Warlock series.

Even with Thanos’ plan to kersplode the sun thwarted, his forces still prove a threat so Thor, Marvel, and Iron Man decide to head back over to the fake Sanctuary II to help the other Avengers.

What to do with Adam Warlock’s body? Eh. Leave it. He’s at peace now. And he’ll peacefully rot in space. Probably like he always dreamed.

Or maybe give him a proper burial?

Throughout Marvel’s conversation with the two Avengers, a green-hued Warlock has been coming to terms with life after death.

Being absorbed into the Soul Gem means being reunited with everyone it has eaten. Gamora. Pip. Some other people probably from Adam Warlock’s own mag. And the realm within the Soul Gem is a land of peace where all can live as one and share a collective memory and heart.

A land where hearts are an open book, where understanding is bred, and the ego is muted. In the Soul Gem there can only be love.

Not bad for a piece of jewelry normally portrayed as evil and voracious.

So a happy ending for Adam Warlock. And a happy ending for the Sun. And a happy ending for the Avengers who decided that they’re not doing any corpse disposal. Happy ending for everyone except Thanos whose grand romantic gesture was thwarted and the idiots he always manages to inspire to follow him who are getting their teeth punched in by the Avengers.

BUT WAIT, THERE’S MORE

December, 1977

I’m not ashamed to say that one of my favorite comic book tropes is when someone hits someone with someone. But only if they’re using said person as a bludgeon. Throwing the person is the coward’s way out.

So last time: Just scroll up. Thanos was going to blow up the Sun but Iron Man blew up his bling and Adam Warlock achieved his fondest desire and died.

This time: Peter Parker’s plot senses are tingling.

He senses... that a crossover needs him.

His plot sense also recap the events of the Avengers Annual issue and-

is that an upside down cyclops? What the heck!

Uh, anyway. Yeah. Just a recap of the Avengers Annual. Which is mighty obliging. A less scrupulous writer would have dropped a brief text recap and made you buy the issue to find out what happened.

Anyway, Peter’s dream goes beyond just the events of Avengers Annual #7. He starts dreaming of THINGS NOT ON PANEL. Except now they’re on panel because he’s dreaming of them.

Also, I lied. Its not Peter’s plot sense that's tingling. Moondragon just beamed a recap into his dreams.

After Avengers Annual #7, Thanos teleported back over to the other Sanctuary II where the Avengers were still fighting his diverse crowd of alien jerks (why do villains always believe in diversity more than the heroes do?).

With some actual leadership, they go from being an ineffectual mob mostly existing to make the Avengers look cool to a fighting machine.

In five panels, the fight turns against the Avengers and they all lie defeated.

Well, except for the away team of Captain Marvel, Thor, and Iron Man.

They take an additional page to defeat.

Thanos goes right from organizing his mob in their defeat of the Avengers to an armament control console with no time for gloating in between (which you know is very hard for Thanos) and blasts Thor, Captain Marvel, and Iron Man while they’re flying back towards the fake Sanctuary II.

I was going to joke that its because this isn’t an Avengers book that the Avengers can be totally stomped in two pages. But that’s just their life, isn’t it? Even in their own book they aren’t free of getting taken out humiliatingly easy, are they?

Thanos then had all the unconscious heroes put in stasis beams. Y’know that thing where the heroes are all lined up in a row but unable to move but there aren’t any obvious restraints? Well this time it works by keeping the heroes a micro-second out of sync with reality.

Without the giant synthetic Soul Gem, Thanos can’t blow up every star. But with the Soul Gem on the dead deceased corpse of Adam Warlock, maybe he can still blow up a star. And conveniently, he happens to be near a pretty one called Sol.

Maybe just blowing up the one star in Marvel that matters will be enough to appease death.

And then Peter wakes up, the recap portion of this recap over.

He only wonders why Moondragon chose him to send this message to. He’s a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man not a powerhouse or cosmic dude.

And we cut to Master Order and Lord Chaos basically being to blame. Their game against Death goes poorly and they’re forced to put their reserves in play.

I.e. Spider-Man and Ben Grimm, the Thing.

Because Spider-Man realizes ‘hey wait I can’t webswing into space, I need to borrow a spaceship’

And he knows just who to borrow one from.

Cue a funny moment where Spider-Man startles the Thing while he’s engrossed in reading Salem’s Lot causing him to accidentally inhale his cigar.

Oh what shenanigans you get up to, Peter.

But he gets the Thing to stop complaining about Spider-Man disrespecting the security system by shouting at him to STFU. Ben realizes that maybe Spider-Man has troubles.

So he pours Peter some coffee and listens to his story. And immediately asks what Peter has been smoking. Old tennis shoes maybe?

Which is. Ben knows that real drugs exist, right?

But since Peter is serious about it Ben figures what the heck. There’s an experimental spaceship he was supposed to test-pilot when he got the chance and now’s as good a time as any.

Spider-Peter doesn’t really have... exact directions but the spaceship’s tracking systems will track down Thanos’ ship if its up there.

Spider-Man: “If? Still have your doubts, then?”

The Thing: “About your story? Perish forbid such a thought. How could anyone doubt the word of a man in blue and red leotards who crawls on walls?”

Police, I’d like to report a murder.

But despite Ben’s skepticism, they find Thanos’ giant H on the very next page.

The Thing: “Appears like I was wrong about you this time, Spidey. My apologies.”

Spider-Man: “What do you mean ‘this time’?”

The Fantastispacecraft gets caught in a tractor beam and dragged inside the giant H (for Hate?). Ben kicks the door of his spaceship out so he can immediately go out and start punching some space goons.

Thus making the ship nonviable for a return trip. Good thinking, Ben!

Spider-Man joins in the goon punching, although he admits that monster bashing isn’t his usual comfort zone. But if he fights the small fries which basically look like weird people then he should be good.

He’ll let the Thing fight the giant space serpent.

AND USE THE SPACE SNAKE TO HIT PEOPLE WITH. That’s what I’m talking about, Ben!

Meanwhile, Thanos watches this on a monitor. He must be wondering how many heroes he aggroed today. They just keep showing up.

So he has the gravity turned off in the chamber Spider-Man and Thing are in. That’ll show them.

And Thanos’ men, who I guess trained for just this sort of contingency, waste no time blasting Spider-Man and the Thing while they’re discombobulated.

Its a bit of a shame. I wanted to see if Spider-Man would try to use his webs. A much later comic than this made the point that without gravity, Spider-Man’s webbing would splurt out instead of thwip out in nice lines. I wanted to see if that would be used here, decades before the first time I saw it.

Meanwhile, Master Order and Lord Chaos continue to commentate on the crossover. Another round goes to Death with Spider-Man and the Thing temporarily out of play. Still, they both expected this.

Summoning Spider-Man and the Thing was a ploy to get Adam Warlock back on the field from the emerald hill zone.

Meanwhile, in the land of emerald skies (they look purple actually) and green hills, Adam Warlock exposits about recent events.

Yup. He sure died. And now he lives in the Soul Gem, a paradisaical world where he can forget about his worries and his strife. All within the Soul Gem are one and live in harmony for harming another would be harming oneself. Yup, afterlife in the Soul Gem is good and will remain good forever.

Elsewhere and while, Spider-Man and the Thing wake up at the foot of the hero display case and/or stasis beam.

Thanos didn’t get the chance to gloat earlier so he’s seizing the opportunity now.

His henchaliens are preparing stasis beams for Thing and Spider-Man but in the meanwhile, look at how awesome Thanos is. He collected the Avengers better than the Collector ever did. Suck it, old man.

Spider-Man decides to hear Thanos out, hoping that encouraging Thanos to ramble will give them time to plan. And Thanos knows he’s being played but what the hell, he loves to hear himself talk.

So he explains to the heroes that he’s having another stellar projector prepared which will use the Soul Gem’s power to cause the Sun to go nova (but not that one. Or that one. Marvel has a lot of Novas).

And then he explains that he’s doing this as a grand romantic gesture for Death. Recaps how he fell out of her favor by fucking up his plan to become god with the cosmic cube. But anyway, yeah, thats why the Sun and countless lives on Earth must die. So Death will be really impressed with him.

Ben Grimm doesn’t find that a good motivation so he punches Thanos in the dick.

Thanos just no-sells it and purple energy blasts the Thing unconscious.

Annnnnd Spider-Man realizes he’s out of his league so when Thanos asks him if he wants a turn, he just webswings away.

Thanos: “WHAT?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

Spider-Man: “Leaving! This is the Avengers’ hassle.”

For some reason, Thanos takes exception to this and orders his alien mooks to bring back Spider-Man’s head.

Except now what? He doesn’t know how to fly spaceships so he can’t just steal the Thing’s ride (also its no longer air tight). He can’t stay here, he’ll just get killed. But he can’t go back to Earth because if Thanos blows up the Sun, Earth will get a whole lot less hospitable.

So if he’s dead either way, he might as well stay. And if he’s staying, he might as well do something. But he can’t fight Thanos directly. He’d sweep the floor with Spider-Man and probably any hero Spidey knows.

Except.... maybe Thor?

Okay, good plan. Good plan. Free Thor. Save the world. Have everything be good forever. Spidey is glad he talked himself out of that blind panic spiral.

Meanwhile, another Master Order and Lord Chaos intermission. They sure are glad that Spider-Man didn’t let his self-preservation overrule his strong heart.

So Spider-Man loops back around to where Thanos showed him his Avengers collection. And darn, Thanos is still there. And also he changed his mind. He’s not adding Spider-Man to his collection now. So there.

Spider-Man decides the thing to do is smash the stasis beam projector WITH HIS BODY.

So the Avengers wake up and immediately charge Thanos. While Spider-Man limply hangs half out of the machinery. Oh, and the Thing woke up by this point too.

That’s some quality Assembling! Good job, Spider-Man. Probably fracturing half of your bones was worth it.

Thanos summons his army of mooks and we get down to a real rumble.

Weird that apparently Adam Warlock will be needed to resolve this scenario. Thing and Thor seem to be thumping Thanos pretty effectively while the rest of the heroes keep the small fry off their backs.

And the other heroes are playing it very strategically. Captain Marvel is keeping an eye on the overall crowd composition so that one of the heroes can go and bust up any attempt to build up or consolidate a position.

Yeah, I’d say this is in the bag.

But just as Thor and Thing are still kicking Thanos’ ass and looking good doing it, Thanos eye beams Thing unconscious and puts Thor on the ropes.

Dangit.

Spider-Man regains consciousness, still stuck hip deep in some defunct machinery and realizes that he must Do Something. In fact, he feels as if everything depends on the decision he makes next.

In happy paradise green land, Adam Warlock is struck with a terrible migraine and realizes that the plot needs him for one last hurrah.

Spider-Man’s spider-sense spider-leads him to notice Adam Warlock’s Soul Gem, encased in a glass globe.

So obviously he should break that, right?

Yeah.

And with the Soul Gem freed from containment, Adam Warlock manifests as a naked fire man and proclaims himself the Ultimate Avenger.

(Was Adam Warlock ever in the Ultimate Universe? I can only think if he was, his re-imagining would have been endlessly disappointing.)

And Ultimate Avenger Adam Warlock (with kung fu action grip) could not rest while Thanos remains a threat to the universe.

And Ultimate Avenger Adam Warlock is so very, very tired and wants to rest. So Thanos will have to go.

So Ultimate Avenger Adam Warlock takes Thanos for granite because that’s just something Ultimate Avenger Adam Warlock can do.

Fuck you, I don’t have to explain anything. Its cosmic.

Which leaves just the cleanup.

Thanos’ army immediately surrenders.

Which is a good decision for them because they’re probably going to get released with no punishment aside from the hits they’ve already taken.

Spidey objects but Captain Marvel asks what he would suggest doing with them? Put them in Earth jail? That’s ridiculous, Spider-Man. You ludicrous radioactive Spider-Man.

I guess.......... space jail isn’t an option for some reason? They’re kind of accessories to the destruction of a star and conspiracy to commit another star murder.

When Jean Grey and/or the Phoenix did that it was a whole to-do but I guess its just okay this time because it didn’t personally inconvenience the Shi’ar?

Maybe Captain Marvel is just lazy and doesn’t want to do the considerable amount of paperwork it would take to arrest an army.

No Sam Vimes this Mar-Vell.

Perhaps realizing they were dicks before, the Avengers decide to actually have a funeral for Adam Warlock. They bury him on some random space rock.

And they leave his Soul Gem right on his grave for anyone to steal. WHICH HAPPENS AND CAUSES INFINITY GAUNTLET.

Geez, the Avengers. Geez.

Also according to his tombstone, Adam Warlock was only ten years old. He was a melancholic child.

Later, aboard the fake Sanctuary II which was apparently Sanctuary III all along and maybe you could have mentioned that earlier and prevented a lot of name confusion for me, personally.

Spider-Man mourns the loss of Adam Warlock. He didn’t know him that well but the universe feels much emptier without him.

And the Thing suggests they check to see if Sanctuary III had a coffee pot anywhere. SPACE COFFEE (do not drink in space).

And within the Soul Gem, Adam Warlock resigns himself to living in paradise free of any strife, problems or pain. Or darn. Well he’ll manage.

And the Thanos statue cries because Death doesn’t love him. And also petrification is often portrayed as a living death so he doesn’t even get to be with his crush.

Phew.

Two annuals back to back was a bad idea. And almost nobody is even going to read this today because I have almost nobody that even reads these on a non-holiday day and today is Christmas so people are probably going to be with families and singing to the Christmas raptor.

Well. Here it is anyway. The last stand of Adam Warlock.

And that’s the major thing to bring up.

This is Avengers Annual and Marvel Two-in-One Annual. A book about the Avengers and a book about the Thing and his amazing friends. But the story that spans these two issues is about Adam Warlock. The others are just along for the ride.

The giant cosmic space heads even say as much. Spider-Man is only here to get the real star of the show on stage. The Thing is only here because this is his team-up book (and because Spidey needs transportation).

Its kind of a tendency of Adam Warlock to make any story about him. Both in and out of universe. He’s kind of self-absorbed.

Whether you like these stories probably comes down to whether you like Adam Warlock. Because on this day the Avengers, Spider-Man, and the Thing took the backseat to the space messiah who hated to wear pants.

Other than that? Pretty good.

A good Thanos plan. An intentional downgrade from his plan to become god in terms of ambition. But possibly even worse because he planned to blow up every star just to get Death sempai-dono to notice him.

This is the end for Thanos for a while. He’s still a stone statue during the Death of Captain Marvel in 1982. Thanos doesn’t stop being stoned until 1990.

People that didn’t read Adam Warlock’s book probably don’t really get why Thanos was most scared of this golden brooder but I think turning into a naked fire man and turning Thanos to stone is context enough.

So happy and merry whatever. Next time I get back to the main book but we’re still going to have the Avengers storming a giant thing in space.

During this time in their lives, the Avengers just storm giant space things more often than typical.

[askkrenko]

Magic Story Abridged: Limited Time Offer

(Episode 7; Battle for Zendikar Episode 1; Original Stories HERE and HERE )

When Gideon Jura wields his swift sural All those who chose to oppose his sural fall When there’s crime to thwart or a war to fight You can count on the man who is mono-white When Gideon Jura wields his swift sural.

Art by Dan Scott

PRESENT DAY ZENDIKAR

(We open on Kytheon Iora, now a man, fighting a number of Eldrazi spawn. In the background, a group of Kor, Humans, Elves, and Goblins watch patiently.)

Munda, a large, muscular Kor: (Quietly, to the others in his group) ...Here we see a wild Gideon Jura, latin name Kytheon Iora, taking down its prey. Though the beasts are larger and more powerful than he, his glowing golden aura protects him from all known forms of attack. His Sural, also known as an Urumi or Whip-Blade, can cut through the flesh of even the toughest of Eldrazi, though it may take many such blows to cause one to fall. Though Eldrazi meat is inedible, this kill with give the Gideon great renown. If the hunt is successful, he will not have difficulty finding a mate this season.

Kytheon, now going by Gideon full time: (Calling over) I know you’re there, Munda! Are you going to lend a hand or not?

Munda: You’re doing fine, bro! They can’t even scratch you!

Gideon: I’d still like to finish up sometime today!

Munda: Fine, fine! Everyone, attack!

(Munda and his party help Gideon dispatch the Eldrazi.)

Gideon: Really wished you’d shown up earlier. I’ve been fighting those things for hours. Literally hours.

Munda: Sorry, bro, but we just came from our own fights. Bala Ged’s overrun. Gone the way of Sejiri. Everyone’s running to Sea Gate, but who knows if we can hold that.

Gideon: Sea Gate… Right… I’ll meet you there. Right now I need to… go place.

Munda: You need to sleep. Maybe have something to eat. You look exhausted.

Gideon: Can’t. Gotta be at work in an hour.

Munda: What work? We’re in an apocalyptic situation and all society in that general direction has collapsed.

Gideon: Well, the thing about that is THERE’S A BALOTH BEHIND YOU!

Munda: Wha-

(Gideon planeswalks away.)

Art by Richard Wright

THE MILLENNIAL RAVNICA

(Gideon bursts into the Millennial, one of the finest, most expensive restaurants in the entire city-plane of Ravnica. He’s still covered in dirt and Eldrazi ichor.)

Maitre’d: Sir, you can’t just-

Gideon: (Flashes a badge) Official Boros business, stand aside, civilian.

(Gideon marches up to a table full of finely dressed goblins)

Krenko, the devilishly handsome goblin leader in a homemade crown: Can I help you, officer?

Gideon: You’re under arrest for arson and six counts of murder… And that’s just today.

Krenko: Sorry, officer, but this crown means I don’t have to listen to you.

Gideon: And why is that?

Krenko: Because it’s made of knives.

Gideon: (Sigh)

Art by Richard Wright

A BOROS GARRISON RAVNICA

Dars, a real, actual Boros Soldier: Great work as always, Jura!

Gideon: (heavy breathing) Thanks. I try.

Krenko, in cuffs, covered in blood: Seemed a bit unprofessional if you ask me.

Dars: We don’t. You’re going straight into lockup… After medical care, of course.

Gideon: He’s fine… The blood’s mine.

Dars: Aren’t you invincible?

Gideon: I’d thought so...

Dars: Then how…

Gideon: Krenko must’ve been tougher than the other criminals I’ve fought… and the Eldrazi… and that vampire… and the pyromancer… and the titan… and Erebos, God of the Dead.

Dars: He must be as powerful as he is handsome.

Gideon: He is very handsome.

Real, actual photograph by Empire State Photography Also Karl Kopinski  and Winona Nelson

(STRANGE OBJECT THROWN THROUGH THE WINDOW!)

Dars: IT’S A BOMB!

Gideon: It’s a letter.

Dars: A letter bomb?

Gideon: It’s from Rikkig and Gardagig, two of the Shattergang goblins. They want us to hand over Krenko for murdering their brother, or… then the bomb.

Dars: Why do these goblins insist on killing each other?

Krenko: Well, when we kill non-goblins, your pink asses call us racist.

Gideon: ...I’ll go deal with them. As soon as I run some errands first.

Art by Vincent Proce

ZENDIKAR

(Gideon fights some Eldrazi on Zendikar. Munda’s there, too. And a random sorceress who shoots lightning bolts.)

Munda: Hey, Gideon, buddy, pal, bro… Remember when I said everyone was running to Sea Gate?

Gideon: Yes…

Munda: Turns out that includes the Eldrazi.

Gideon: Well, slith. On my way. After goblins.

Art by Michael Komarck

RAVNICA

(Gideon busts down the door to a warehouse)

Gideon: It’s over, Rikkig! I already captured your brother offscreen!

Rikkig’s voice, from somewhere inside the building: Didn’t bring Krenko, huh? And here I was going to exchange my hostages for yours.

(Light goes on in back, revealing a group of old women, children, and kittens tied up.)

Gideon: I can’t just hand over a prisoner! He’s been lawfully arrested, just like you’ll be!

(Rikkig steps out, wearing twelve layers of padding, a helmet, and goggles)

Rikkig: Well, if you don’t have a Krenko for me, I still have something for you.

(Rikkig throws a bomb)

(Things explode)

(Rikkig is padded. Gideon is indestructible. The hostages scream. The building begins burning and collapsing.)

Gideon: Damn damn damn!

(Gideon rushes to save the hostages. There’s a lot of them. He can only carry a few at a time. The building continues to burn.)

Dars: NEVER FEAR! THE BOROS LEGION IS HERE!

(Boros rush the building, rescue hostages, put out the fire. Rikkig escapes.)

Gideon: How did you get here so fast?

Dars: Followed you. You seemed like you were biting off a bit more than you can chew.

Gideon: I can handle it myself:

Dars: No. No, you can’t. We’re a Legion. We use tactics and teamwork so screw ups like this don’t happen. We’re going to go send a bunch of guys to catch that one goblin, and you’re going to sleep.

Gideon: But if I do that, who’s going to fight the giant monsters?

Dars: What?

Gideon: Bye.  (Gideon planeswalks away.)

Art by Nic Klein

Art by Igor Kieryluk

SEA GATE, A BIG DAM CITY ZENDIKAR

(ALL THE ELDRAZI ATTACK THE CITY! Hundreds of Eldrazi. Thousands of Eldrazi. Millions and billions and… okay, maybe not that many.  In the center: Gideon, indestructible and kicking ass.)

Gideon: I don’t care how many of you I have to kill! I can do this all day! I haven’t slept in a week and I’m not about to start now!

Jori En, a mermaid who is evenly distributed human and fish: HELP! HELP!

(Gideon bursts into a burning building, scoops up the mermaid, and runs off as it collapses behind them)

Gideon: Why didn’t you evacuate with the others?

Jori En: My friend Kendrin and I were checking for records about the Hedrons! She almost figured out what they do and how they’re supposed to stop the Eldrazi!

Gideon: That’s wonderful! Where is she?

Jori En: Uhh… In that building.

Gideon: Oh.

Jori En: Yeah…

Gideon: So…

Jori En: But I have all her notes! Unfortunately, she was a complete nerd and I don’t understand any of them.

Gideon: …. Go. Run. Get to safety. I’ll catch up with you as soon as I can.

Jori En: You have a plan?

Gideon: I have a nerd.

Art by Adam Paquette

JACE’S SANCTUM RAVNICA

(We cut to Jace Beleren, a blue cloak with a wizard inside it. With him is Lavinia, his assistant and bodyguard.)

Lavinia: That was your last meeting for today. Time to have a healthy dinner, and then get to bed early.

Jace Beleren: Or I’ll fill myself with coffee and stay up until three in the morning solving Sudoku. Sudokus? Sudoki.

Lavinia: You’re going to be grouchy all day tomorrow if you do that.

Jace: You can’t tell me what to do. You’re not my mom. I think. I honestly don’t remember.

Lavinia: I distinctly remember not being your mother.

Jace: Then I’ll see you at work first thing in the morning!

Lavinia: ...Of course. Goodnight, Jace. (Lavinia heads off)

(Jace starts to fetch his coffee when… there’s a knock on the bookshelf)

Jace: WHO IS- … wait. Who even knows about my secret passage? (Jace magically opens the bookshelf from a distance, preparing for trouble)

Liliana Vess, hasn’t aged a day in years: Jace! Snookums! (Walks right in.)

Jace: No.

Liliana: How are you, dear! I’ve missed you! You never showed for our last date!

Jace: That’s probably because you tried to kill me.

Liliana: Oh, pish posh. That was on Nicol Bolas’ orders. I’m freelance now.

Jace: You killed my best friend.

Liliana: And I killed my brother. This isn’t a competition, you know.

Jace: What do you want?

Liliana: I missed you! Can’t a girl visit her lover without getting the third degree?

Jace: (incredulous) You came all the way to Ravnica, presumably went to a lot of effort to find my secret passage, and showed up here unannounced because you missed me?

Liliana: I thought we could catch up. Spend some time together. Talk about our feelings.

Jace: You’re a murderer and a liar, and that’s not even bringing up that you managed to turn Garruk into some sort of superpowered psychopath hunting ‘the most dangerous game’ from plane to plane.

Liliana: Yeah, that was fun.

Jace: Go away.

Liliana: Take me to dinner.

Jace: ...You’re not leaving if I don’t play along, are you?

Liliana: I am not.

Jace: Fine.

Art by Dave Kendall

(Jace and Liliana start walking down the street)

Little Old Lady: Sir! Buy a flower for your girlfriend?

Jace: She’s not my girlfriend! She’s some sort of insufferable hell-witch who refuses to leave me alone for arcane purposes she won’t tell me about.

Little Old Lady: Oh, of course! Buy a flower for your wife?

Jace: Grrrrrrrrrr…..

THE MILLENNIAL RAVNICA

Maitre’d: Please forgive the mess, Sir Guildpact. We had an incident the other day… Of course, we’ll make sure it doesn’t inconvenience you.  (He shows Jace and Liliana to a table)

Jace: It’s fine, it’s fine. Just… It’s fine.

Liliana: That Guildpact title is useful. How is it being grand high king of Ravnica?

Jace: I’m not the King. I’m just a grand high Judge. I uphold the law. I don’t create it.

Liliana: Well, that sounds positively boring. You should become king. I’m sure you could pull it off.

Jace: I really don’t want to be king… And speaking of what I want, what do you want?

Liliana: The lobster looks positively-

Jace: I meant with me. Why are you making me take you out to dinner?

Liliana: Because I wanted to see you. Why would you think there was anything else? Do you think I can’t handle my demons on my own?

Jace: They are four particularly large-

Liliana: Two. I already killed Kothophed and Griselbrand. With the Chain Veil. It’s a wonderful artifact that grants ultimate power that is working out great for everybody involved.

Jace: Uh...huh.

Liliana: It certainly doesn’t have some sort of magical hooks in me that I need help understanding.

Jace: Of course not.

Liliana: And I’ll be perfectly fine studying it on my own.

Jace: Great.

Liliana: I can handle this.

Jace: Good to know. So you just want to sit with me and eat dinner?

Liliana: Yes.

Jace: And nothing else?

Liliana: Why? What are you implying.

Maitre’d: (at the entrance) SIR! NO! NOT AGAIN!

Jace: Hmm?

Art by David Rapoza

Gideon Jura, covered in Eldrazi goop: Need to see the Guildpact.

Maitre’d: Sir, you are covered in I don’t know what! We can’t afford another-

Gideon: Zendikar! It’s about Zendikar!

Jace: (softly) Damn it. (loudly) Send him in!

Maitre’d: Oh, all right…

Gideon: (staggers in) Beleren. Zendikar.

Jace: I’m sort of in the middle of something right now. What do you want?

Liliana: Right, he’s on a date! Go away!

Gideon: (Deep breath) Zendikar is being overrun by the Eldrazi, and we have notes on how the Hedrons might be able to stop them, but I need help from someone with skills I don’t have. Will you please help me?

Jace: … Say that last part again?

Gideon: ...Will you please help me?

Jace: You know what? Sure!

Gideon: Great, we can leave right-

Jace: In the morning. I need to have a healthy dinner and get to bed on time or I’ll be grouchy all day, and you need to get to a healer and rest as well. That’s the offer, take it or leave it.

Gideon: I… alright. Thank you.

Liliana: What the falkenrath, Jace? Here I come, all the way from Innistrad, with my magical artifact and two demons left to kill, and you’re willing to just run off with this oversized slab of beef with barely any explanation?

Jace: Is that a problem?

Liliana: Of course it’s a problem! You were supposed to come and help me!

Jace: Really? Huh. You should’ve said something.

Art by Jaime Jones