#knuckles would love animal crossing and nobody can change my mind

[slasherholic]

synopsis: Your pleasant Christmas dinner at the sorority house is ruined when Billy, ever the horny little shit, decides to make a call.

Concerning the Man in the Attic | Billy Lenz x Reader | NSFW

(Author’s note: this is a -slight- AU where Billy hasn’t actually begun his murder spree yet. All the sorority sisters are still alive and thriving.)

“A slice of ham for you, dear?”

You shake off your daze and blink up at Mrs. Mac from your already full-to-bursting plate. She holds a slender knife to her steaming Christmas ham and looks down at you with an expectant smile, a rosy glow pinkening her plump cheeks, jolliness shining like candlelight in her wrinkled eyes. You can smell the alcohol on her from where you sit.

“Oh, no, that’s alright.” You put on your cheeriest face. “Thank you though Mrs. Mac—maybe a bit later. I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

You don’t miss the way the portly woman’s grin falters. She exhales through her nose.

“Later, then.” Says Mrs. Mac, her smile just a bit more shallow than it had been before, and moves on down the table to ask the same question to Jess. You drop your eyes back to the glob of mashed potatoes crowded on your plate and think, Nicely done. Now you’re on her shit-list.

Except you probably would have made it on Mrs. Mac’s shit-list regardless, because unless you want to puke it right back up all over that stupid Christmas ham, your food is already as good as wasted; your appetite is well and truly gone, and it isn’t coming back.

All because you can’t stop thinking about the calls. 

Today the moaner phoned not once, but twice.

Jess and Phyllis, and Barb especially, her wine glass filled nearly to spilling in her hand, already seem to have forgotten the ordeal. Jess sweeps her dark hair out of her eyes and prods at her asparagus with her fork. Phyllis cups her mug in her slender hands and takes dainty sips. And Barb, sprawled out across the couch with her feet propped on the armrest, knocks back another tall glass of Sauvignon Blanc. She’d popped open her first bottle at 4:00 and has showed no signs of slowing down since.

Whatever thoughts might be preoccupying your sister’s minds you’re confident that they do not concern the man behind those awful calls. The other residents of the house consider the moaner akin to a barking dog—as long as he remains a disembodied ruckus in the neighbor’s yard, why should they fear being bitten? And so they forget him as quickly as the line goes dead.

But not you. Forgetting is off the table for you. Because the reality of the situation—and it is so painfully clear—the reality of the situation is that the dog was never in the neighbor’s yard.

All this time it has been curled up somewhere nice and cozy in yours, and has pissed all over Mrs. Mac’s petunias for good measure, and nobody seems to be batting an eye at the stench. Nobody but you.

But you’ve grown used to covering your nose with your sleeve and pretending you can’t smell it, either.

After the first obscene phone call back at the start of December you could never shake the feeling that something in the house had changed, had soured, had become just not right. There was the case of the missing food from the cabinets; and at night, no shortage of strange creaking and grinding sounds from the attic above; and yes, it was a big old house, but you can’t say you’ve ever heard a rusty pipe squeal like a suckling pig before.

And so you suspect the worst; that the truth behind the moaner is far more sinister than your sisters, than Mrs. Mac, than anyone seems to realize. 

And yet, you wouldn’t dare to bring it up. You wouldn’t dare.

That pervert living in the house somewhere? What a joke. You had no hard evidence to show for it, just a gut-wrenching feeling. The claim would sound paranoid at best.

So here you are, resigned to gritting your teeth; and covering your nose; and bearing the stink.

You tune out most of the chatter as Christmas dinner carries on. Barb chatters to Phyllis—Phyllis lends an ear, sipping lazily from her cocoa with a snide smile plastered across her face. Barb chatters to Jess—Jess doesn’t bite. There’s something eating at her, you think. Mrs. Mac interjects occasionally with chatter of her own.

When the phone rings, the chatter stops. So does your heart.

Your eyes race to where the receiver rests on its stand in the adjoining living room. 

“Rrrring. Rrrring.”

The shrill note carries through the cavernous hallways of Mrs. Mac’s grand old house. Once, twice, three times. 

Barb is on the scene in seconds. She springs upright from her place on the couch, wobbling dangerously when her feet hit the floor—only to regain her precarious balance with the very next step. You chew your lip as she lifts the receiver and presses it to her cheek. 

An ear-to-ear grin sprawls across her face. She sticks the phone out for all to hear.

“Tasty cunt.” Comes the garbled voice over the phone. “I can smell it, I can smell your ripe wet cunt.”

The room must drop by ten degrees because you start to shiver. It’s him again; the moaner.

“Maybe you’re smelling your own breath, pal.” Barb quips.

“Oh Barb, just hang up.” Pleads Jess, worry written across her pale face.

“I’m gonna eat it—ooh, I’m gonna come and eat it, I’ll stick my face in it, let me smell it, let me eat your dripping pussy, I know how wet you are…” 

The phone crackles with manic snickering.

“I watched you stick your fingers up your cunt… I watched you rub and rub and ruin your pretty pinky panties…” 

Your heart drops. Your face burns. You cross your legs beneath the table. You have a pair of panties which might fit that bill. Panties which—perhaps not-so-coincidentally—have been missing for three days.

The man on the phone squeals like a hungry pig. The squeals peter into grunting, shallow and hasty, and Barb, covering her hand with her mouth, has never looked so amused. 

When the line goes dead the living room erupts with hooting laughter.

“The poor guy didn’t even last twenty seconds that time!” Barb barks. She plants the phone back on its stand and slumps onto the couch, her chest heaving.

“No rest for the wicked I guess.” Phyllis suggests. “Not even on Christmas.”

The chatter resumes; you try your absolute hardest to focus on your mashed potatoes and on your green beans and not, for the love of god, on what the moaner is doing with your underwear.

You volunteer to clean up after dinner. Luckily, Mrs. Mac had been too many drinks in to remember that you hadn’t touched a single bite of her hard work (No no, don’t worry yourself, I’ve got it, dinner was splendid, you’ve outdone yourself, really, you deserve a lie down. Merry Christmas to you too Mrs. Mac) and the woman had given you a dull smile, and toddled off to bed.

You scrub at the dried cranberry sauce caked on a plate and try your hardest not to think about the man in the attic. You know you should go to the police. That’s what any rational person would do, right? You can picture the conversation now;

Yes hello officer, there’s a strange man in our house and nobody knows he’s there except me. How do I know? Well it’s simple, you see, I know because he watched me finger-fuck myself and then stole my panties and then called over dinner to gloat about it.

You furrow your brow and scrub harder.

Yeah; fat chance.

If you’re going to do this you need to be certain. You need irrefutable evidence that there is, in fact, some creep squatting in your house. You need to wait for him to slip up—to make a mistake—to show himself.

You huff and drop the sponge into the sink, bending to load the plate into the washer.

“Hugnhh—”

The abrupt sound is a grunt; almost animalistic. It comes from somewhere behind you.

You straighten up like a springboard and turn on your heel, planting your hands on the kitchen sink, your frantic eyes sweeping the room.

The grunting stops as abruptly as it began—but you weren’t imagining it. You couldn’t have been. No way in hell. 

All the hairs on your arms stand on end as you peer out into the dining room. It is silent; silent and still. You hold your breath. You eyeball Mrs. Mac’s beautiful lace cloth; it is draped across the dining room table, nearly touching the floor.

Your grip on the kitchen sink turns your knuckles white.

There’s something underneath the table, screams a voice inside your head.

“Claude?” You whisper to nobody but yourself.

It must be Claude—Claude is on the prowl, and he’s licking at some table scraps. That must be it.

“Come out of there, you silly fat cat.” Your voice wavers that time. As you let go of the sink you approach the table as if it were a living thing, about to rear up on its hind legs and charge you down like an angry bull.

It’s just the cat. Just that stupid fat cat. In a second I’ll feel like a total idiot.

You tell yourself these things as you sink to your knees on the cold wooden floor and grab a fistful of tablecloth. The cloth is silky and cold in your fingers. Your heart pounds as you lift it, peering into the unknown beneath.

For a moment, you forget how to scream.

A dark silhouette is hunched over like a gargoyle beneath the table. 

It is a man, you realize; a man with wild hair and wild eyes. His pants are unzipped. Pearly teeth flash as he gawks at you, a horrible grin sprawling across his face. He pumps a piece of fabric furiously back and forth around his member.

“Pretty—mphh—pinky—ungh—panties…” The voice is instantly recognizable.

You drop the tablecloth and scramble backwards.

The man lunges from beneath the table like a rabid animal. Cold hands scrabble for a grip on your wrists; his momentum topples you. Your back meets the hardwood floor. He pins you with his weight.

You whip your head back and forth as fingers grapple at your jaw and pull on your nose and wrench your mouth wide open. The pink fabric is stuffed in, muffling your scream before it can leave your throat. 

The man clamps a cold, slender hand over your mouth. The grin he wears is manic. Your pulse thuds as hard and as fast as a runaway train in your neck, and as he leans in close you turn your head away from him. The wool of his turtleneck is scratchy against your clavicle. He reeks of mold and dust and cat food.

“Shhh-shush-shush-shushhh…” 

His mouth is inches from your own, sour breath hot against your cheek. 

It’s him. The man from the attic.

The tears come streaming down your face. You think you might die from the shock of it all alone, if the moaner doesn’t kill you first.

“Noisy. Noisy little pig. Trying to run away; trying to run away and tell on Billy.” He strokes your hair like a young girl fawning over a coveted doll.

“You’re not gonna tell, though.” The sound of his snickering is even worse in person. “No-no-no-no. You won’t do it. You won’t.” 

You recoil when his cold fingers graze your cheek, your whine stifled by the gag; your own panties. The taste of Billy’s seed on the fabric is salty and bitter. He’s been using them.

“Greedy greedy little piggy~” Billy’s garble is a sing-songy whisper.

“You think about Billy, you like Billy’s calls, you want to know how Billy tastes, you want his fat cock in your pretty lips so you can suck it, suck it, suck it-suck it-suck it.”

“Nnng-unnh—” You whine at him. A pang of anger flares in your belly.

No. No, no, no. That is just plain wrong. Those calls were vulgar. They were disgusting. Obscene; the very definition of the word. You were most certainly not rubbing one out to the thought of this vile man—to the thought of Billy—with all his classless promises of what he would do to your sisters, if given the chance, and of what he might do to you, in particular…

Above you, Billy snorts.

“Liar. You lying bitch-pig. You’re wet; you’re dripping. I can smell your ripe wet pussy.”

Suddenly those cold, roving fingers are dipping down below your waistline, burrowing beneath your pants. A finger hooks into your cunt up to the knuckle. You writhe, bucking your hips like a mare in heat and trying desperately to throw him off, but Billy’s weight is more than enough to keep you pinned.

Billy looks downright giddy; like he’s about to blow his load then and there. He flashes his lop-sided grin at you and his finger retreats from your warmth, only to be shoved hand-deep into your mouth. You taste your body’s own excitement.

“Soaking! Soaking wet! Nasty pig, filthy pig!” Billy squeals.

I don’t want it, you think, as Billy shifts his weight on top of you, facing your undeniably dripping cunt, planting his knees on either side of your head. His unzipped member dangles inches from your face. You kick your legs, but he is quick with the zipper of your jeans, and shucks them down your thighs with ease, offering your panties the same rough treatment. You squeak into your gag when he gropes starving handfuls of your ass, squeezing and kneading, as if enamoured with your curves; mesmerized.

It’s like he’s never touched a woman before. You suspect you’re not far from the truth.

You can do nothing but watch as Billy’s head dips down between your legs, dark hair tickling the flesh of your thighs. You whine; and that hot, wet, filthy tongue licks a long, sloppy stripe down your bare cunt—from your clit to your ass.

Billy mewls.

“Nasty, nasty nasty nasty—”

His erection bobs in your face, strained and swollen. You suppose you could spit out the gag at this point if you were determined enough. You could scream for Mrs. Mac and Barb and Jess and surely the neighbors would hear, too, and this pervert, this fucking creep, would be thrown back into whatever institution he crawled out of.

But then, the warmth of Billy’s mouth returns to suck and suck and suck at your clit.

You heave a muffled moan and thrash beneath him, no longer trying to dismount him—just because you can’t take it. 

You tremble when Billy’s hot tongue probes at your opening. It is a full-body tremble, a horrible shiver, and you feel that you are both burning up and freezing to death at the same time, a terrible hot-cold sensation. His tongue delves in as far as it can reach; he laps you up greedily. He grunts and moans and squeals all the while, and his member drags across your cheek, and you are not surprised when he plants his elbow on your chest and takes himself in his fist, pumping his cock furiously; back and forth, back and forth.

Billy grunts like an animal when he comes. Hot ropes of his seed spurt out on to your face, coating your lips and your cheeks and your nose.

“You won’t tell them…” Comes Billy’s pitchy whine. It is almost desperate. “You want more of Billy, so much more, so much more…”

You shudder, because you think he’s right.

[klynn-stormz]

Written in the Stars

Hi everyone! Today is my day to drop my January Joy fic!! It was only supposed to be a one shot, but that didn’t work out so well, lol. I have split it into two parts and the second part should be posted within the next two weeks! So without further ado, here we go, I hope you enjoy it!

AO3: 1 |

Summary:  Emma Swan is enjoying her small town life in Storybrooke, a place where she can raise her son, practice her magic, and lead a relatively normal happy life. What she doesn’t expect is Killian Jones moving to town for business and turning her quite life up on it’s head. She’s not about to let some stranger interrupt it, easier said than done when everyone, including her magic, seems to push them together 

Part 1:

The snow-covered meadow glimmered under the full moon, a layer of untouched smooth snow had crossed the expanse of the forest Emma had walked through. There was something about the way the new snow shined brightly against the dark wood of the trees that made her think she had gone through a portal to a new enchanted realm. Under the watchful eyes of the moon and stars, Emma made her way to the middle of the meadow and took a moment to breath in the cold air. This was her favorite time, the sun had set long ago, the sound of the night animals was quiet and soothing, and not another soul was in sight. This was a time when she could be herself. She set her basket on the ground, it was already brimming with the herbs she had collected from the forest, and brushed the hood of her silvery white cloak off her face, then went to work on her favorite ritual.

 The set up was easy; the symbols drawn in the snow, much easier than in the dirt in her opinion, the herbs needed laid on the outer circle, she stood with a goblet in the middle and uttered the enchantment into the still night. It was a little later this year than she normally preformed, but her duties in town kept her busy until nearly 10 days after the New Year. Henry had finally put his foot down and insisted she preform it tonight, seeing that it was affecting her so. Preforming it late wouldn’t stop the renewal ritual from working, as it always did, she had just felt off until she was able to perform it. The coven in town had performed one on at midnight of New Years, but she rarely participated in the coven activities, preferring instead to keep to herself.

 Storybrooke was the perfect place for her and her son, from a young age her abilities had made it hard to stay in one home long. Left on the side of the road as a newborn she had been sent through the foster system, placed in families until her powers scared them to much for her to continue living there. Many hardships and trials had been sent her way, and each time she picked herself back up again. Eventually ending up in a quiet town of Storybrooke, finding others who practiced as she did. She wasn’t close to many of them, but they and all of Storybrooke had snuck their way into her heart and become family. Henry had taken to Storybrooke quickly, finding friends on the first day of school and worming his way into the hearts of all of the people there. His happiness at their newest home was what sealed her decision to stay, he needed stability and he needed a real home. Now, 5 years later, they were well settled in.

 The ritual completed, the spell seemingly hanging in the frigid air, Emma breathed a deep sigh of relief. A feeling of comfort washed over her as the cleansing and renewal ritual did its job. She carefully picked up her basket and walked to the edge of the meadow, waving her hand the grooves she had created in the snow disappeared as if she had never stepped foot there. Making her way back through the woods to a cozy cottage at the end of town, one she was lucky enough to have a view of the forest and the ocean in, she could never have realized how the new year would change her life.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

“You’re completely blowing this out of proportion!” Ruby complained.

 “I’m really not.” Emma rolled her eyes while popping an onion ring into her mouth. She was having lunch with a few of her friends at Granny’s. Ruby was insistent on talking about the disaster that was Emma’s dating life, a topic that seemed to be a favorite among her, Mary Margaret, Ana and Elsa. “I’m not doing it again; I will not go through another Walsh incident.”

 “That wasn’t my fault!” Mary Margaret exclaimed, flushing slightly. “How was I supposed to know that he was a creep? He seemed so nice as the bank! Besides, I’m sure that this new man, his name is James, will be much different.”

 Everyone at the table stared at her till she muttered something about Emma becoming an old maid. Normally Emma would be put off and make them promise to stop setting her up, this would be met with mumbling and no eye contact. Normally. Today was different though, it was a cold fresh February morning, and there was something in the air today that made her feel content and almost… safe. It was a rare feeling for her, even in Storybrooke she rarely felt that way. She wasn’t quite sure she could trust the feeling, not one to get her hopes up.

 “I think we should get back to talking about Ruby’s date.” Elsa suggested. She was reserved, much like Emma, while her sister Ana was the most people person Emma had ever met. She gave Mary Margaret a run for her money on talking and gossip.

 “I’d rather talk about the new ship that just sailed in!” Ruby deflected.

 “Storybrooke has a fairly large port, why would a ship be anything special?” Ana paused, then hurriedly continued. “Not that ship isn’t special, I mean everyone is special so that must make it sort of special. Although, if everyone is special no one is right? Wait no, that’s from the Incredibles isn’t it, I need to stop falling asleep watching movies. What I’m trying to say is what makes this particular ship interesting? I’m sure it’s very interesting, but we do get ships in and out of port all the time, and they are all interesting too, especially the ones that trade in magic, but you never want to talk about those ones. I think that we need to discuss—”

 “Okay, that could go on for awhile so I’ll just answer your question now. The Captain and his brother are major hotties and we definitely need to find out more about them.” Everyone at the table was aware that once Ana got started it was best to interrupt her before they spent an hour listening to her ramblings. The current record was actually an hour and twelve minutes before they couldn’t take it anymore.

 “Of course, it would be because you think they’re attractive.” Elsa rolled her eyes at Ruby’s wiggling eyebrows.

 “Oh, believe me, if I wasn’t in an exclusive relationship, I would eat them up.”

 “I knew it! I knew you and Victor were finally serious.” Mary Margaret’s gleeful cry made Emma’s ears ring.

 “As fun as this is, I better get back to work.”

 “Emma you’re the sheriff you can make your own hours, it’s a Monday, nobody wants to work on a Monday!” Ruby whined.

 “And as the sheriff, it’s my responsibility not to spend three hours talking about potentially hot newcomers at lunch and instead protect and serve.” She responded drily. Turning towards the door, she was met with a loud chuckle and vivid blue eyes staring into hers.

 “I assure you, love, I wouldn’t mind if you continued to talk about my attractiveness.” The man gave her a grin that might have stopped her heart, she wasn’t quite sure at the moment, to lost in his eyes. His dark hair brushed over his forehead, she wanted to run her fingers through the strands and brush her palms against the stubble lining his jaw. When she got ahold of herself, she prayed that she hadn’t been staring to long.

 “As I said, I have better things to do.” She sniped, her defenses up, even if they felt different. Normally her magic would be on edge with a stranger near her, but now it seemed to lean towards him.

 That was ridiculous, she was just imagining it.

 She hoped.

 “Well, then it’s best I introduce myself to the law enforcement of this lovely town. Killian Jones at your service.” He bowed slightly and her eyebrows went up.

 “Planning on needing the Sheriff’s department anytime soon Mr. Jones?”

 “Only if the Sheriff is the one to respond.” His wink sent a shiver through her that she worked hard to keep hidden.

 “Emma Swan then,” Forcing her voice to sound clipped and uncaring. He reached down and took her hand; the reaction of her magic was immediate. Bursting around her in little near fireworks that only she could see, she panicked and attempted to reign it in. Her magic never showed itself to other people unless she willed it to; not even Mary Margaret, Ruby or Elsa had ever seen it, though they knew she had it.  He didn’t help any by lifting her hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. The magic continued to burst around her until he dropped her hand.

 “I should be going.” A quick mumble and a nod of her head was the last thing he saw before she rushed out the door.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 For the rest of the day Emma stewed over her magic, it had taken her a long time to come to terms with what she was, and even longer to learn to control it. As light magic was magic that was inherited and based on emotion, it was harder than dark magic. While dark magic took practice, research and patience, it did not require emotion; Emma’s magic was some of the strongest that Storybrooke had seen in a long time and they relied on her control over it to keep their little town off the radar of those who would exploit it. The local coven worked hard to protect the town, and expected her to do the same.

 She needed to know why her magic reacted differently to him. A flash of Neal went through her mind and her stomach curled at the memory. A man who had taken advantage of a young girl all alone in the world, who had made her believe she was special. The only good thing she had gotten out of that relationship was Henry, and Henry would always be her top priority.

 “Hey mom!” Henry barreled through the door, eyes bright and full of his adventures from school. Her shift finished, she grabbed her jacket, phone and radio, and hugged him.

 “Hey kid, ready for some dinner? I was thinking pizza.”

 “Works for me! We have a new project in English, we get to write a short story.” He dumped his backpack on her desk, then sheepishly picked it up at Emma’s raised brows. “I was thinking I could interview you about some of your magic and—”

 “How about we get some dinner, go home and you can tell me your story over dinner?” Emma asked, grabbing the phone to order.

 Later at their apartment, while they ate their dinner and had the tv playing in the background, Henry told her about his idea. He had gotten nearly to the end when he paused. “I don’t want to spoil the whole story for you.”

 “I thought your teacher said you were supposed to write a short story kid.” She teased him, impressed with his imagination. He’d always had such a wonderful view of the world; Emma was pretty sure she would be buying copies of his books one day. “Why do you need to interview me?”

 “Well, if the princess, Evil Queen, and Dark One are going to have magic I need to know how to write it! I don’t want to make any mistakes.”

 “Alright, tell you what. You get all of your homework done on Friday, and on Saturday and Sunday we will go through a few basic.” He grinned and hugged her tight. When he was all tucked into bed and Emma was reading in her room, she couldn’t help but think of blue eyes and dark hair. Her magic sparked again, a light skittering across the room. She would worry about everything tomorrow. Banishing thoughts of him, she willed herself to sleep.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Killian Jones had seen much of the world in his days, he had seen wonders and mysteries, magic and mayhem, good and bad people, and most everything in-between. As a Captain in the Navy, before he lost his hand in a tragic storm that he nearly lost his brother in, and as a sailor building a business with his brother when they left the Navy. He had been everywhere he’d ever dreamed. Yet, none compelled him as much as the blonde haired, green eyed sheriff that had magic bursting around her as he kissed her hand.

 He’d heard the lasses at the table talking about him and his brother. The long-haired brunette excitedly exclaiming their attractiveness and looking for gossip about them, while the blonde goddess rolled her eyes and looked for an excuse to leave. Seeing her had nearly stopped his heart, he was quite sure of that, only to have it pounding in his ears when their eyes met and time stopped. He could have stared into them forever, wanting to lean closer and brush his lips over hers. He wanted to gather her in his arms and find a private room to kiss her till neither could breathe, after all he wouldn’t need air so long as he had her. He was brought back to himself by the sound of her voice, a bored tone with a hard edge, as if she was putting on a show with it.

 Her eyes shined out at him and he was sure she felt the same as he had, though he was no less embarrassed at where his thoughts had gone immediately. He reigned himself in, flirting just enough with her to get her name. Emma Swan. Fitting, he mused, she had the elegance and grace of one, with high enough walls he knew he’d get pecked if he pushed.

  He didn’t think he’d mind much.

 The moment his lips touched her hand, the white sparks of magic had lit around them, fascinating him. He would have asked her what they were, but for the panic in her eyes when she realized what was happening. He pretended he saw nothing; it could wait till a later date. He had a feeling it would be long till the next meeting.

 When she was gone, he’d ordered at the counter, found a table and waited for his brother. All of his thoughts revolved around Emma.

 “She’s totally single you know.” Came a voice from behind. He turned in his chair to see the group of woman Emma had been with staring at him, a little bit of mischief in their eyes. The one who spoke gave him a wolfish grin. “In case you were wondering.”

 “The sheriff?” He clarified.

 “That’s the one, utterly single and refusing any sort of set up.” The woman with a pixie hair cut and the kindest eyes he’d every seen, replied. “She’s naturally suspicious of people, so you’d have to try pretty hard if you wanted anything to happen.”

 “That is,” Now a woman with frost in her hair and ice in her voice spoke up. “If you’re planning on sticking around.” He smiled at that.

 “My brother and I recently moved our business headquarters to this town, as it’s a good port and unique. We’ll be here for a long while.”

 “Oh that’s just lovely! Emma takes awhile to warm up to people, but you’d definitely want her on your side since she’s the sheriff. Just don’t break any laws and annoy her and you’re good to go.” The final woman had a voice that sprinted instead of walked, he wasn’t sure her mouth was even moving at the speed the words came out.

 “Thank you, ladies, for the advice. I’ll take it into account.” His brother walked through the door then and he was distracted greeting him, nodding a farewell to the women as they left. He smirked slightly when the icy woman ran into his brother and uttered a quick apology, the moment couldn’t have been more than ten seconds and his brother looked starstruck. Looks like they’d both have better reasons to make Storybrooke their new home.

 Liam and he spent the next hour going over some of the logistics of moving the company. It was almost done, the last thing to deal with was selling the old building they’d had back in England. The move to Storybrooke would be better in the long run, while the port wasn’t as big as the one they’d been at, most of their business and suppliers were closer, saving them money in the long run, and they’d just signed three new contracts with new contacts.

 Having heard of Storybrooke’s… unique circumstance, they were drawn to wanting to experience it for themselves. Their mother had been open about her magic from the time she had met their father, he had never really liked it, but dealt with it to be with her. She raised Liam and Killian to believe and practice as well, and though she had died when both were still young, her lessons had stayed with them when their father did not. Neither Liam nor Killian practiced regularly, feeling there were others much more talented that could keep the balance better. However, they preferred a place where they felt comfortable and free. Both had stepped off their ship onto the Storybrooke dock and could feel the rumors had merit. There was magic here, and it seemed to welcome them.

  “Well little brother, it’s time to find some housing I believe. I’ve scheduled a meeting with a realtor tomorrow who will walk us around some of the houses they have here.” Liam clapped his brother on the back, heading towards the back that led to the Bed and Breakfast rooms they’d booked for the week.

 “You mean younger brother,” Killian corrected. “and as long as you know I’m getting my own place then that should be fine.”

 “Of course, you’re not living with me anymore. It’s time for you to stop mooching off of me and get your own space.” The teasing tone made Killian roll his eyes as he bumped into his side a little harder than necessary.

 “Goodnight Liam, see you tomorrow.” Killian went to sleep and dreamt of green-eyed swans and magic.

[staygold-ponyboycurtis]

Another short story of mine!!! Let me know what you think :)

"When Sandy went to Florida… it wasn't Soda, Ponyboy. He told me he loved her, but I guess she didn't love him the way he thought she did, because it wasn't him." Sandy confronts Sodapop about her pregnancy. What really happened between them?

He could see her Mustang slow down at a stop sign, then turn left onto the road. He smiled. The car was a light, powdery blue color. Light and sweet. Like her. Nobody else in town owned one like it. Her father had bought it for her for her sixteenth birthday and he happily brought it back to its glory. She slowed the car into the driveway. It raised his spirits a bit. After all this time, he was still crazy about her. Just seeing her put him in a better mood. It was funny to him how other people could have that effect.

Sodapop slung the dirty rag over his shoulder and wiped his calloused, oily hands on his jeans. Darry had complained about a ticking noise that clicked every time he pressed the brakes in his truck. Sure, Sodapop could've had Steve fix it for him - God knows that he was more talented with cars. But Soda needed something to ease his mind. He was anxious and worried sick and felt like a caged animal in that house. He hadn't worked in days. He needed to occupy himself. There was something methodical about working on a truck.

He leaned up against the car as Sandy hopped out. She looked hurried. Frantic. He furrowed his brows, unsure of what to make of it. She was wearing her red skirt – a favorite of his. He thought about how it matched her eyes; red-rimmed and swollen. Like she had cried over something.

She took a good look at him and cocked her head to the side. "Sodapop," she said slowly. "You don't look good at all. Have you been sleeping?" He turned his head and caught his reflection in the window. He stared at himself in all of his blood-shot, dark-circled, unkempt glory. He wore his anguish like a polished medal.

He scoffed, shaking his head. Ironic. She was preaching to the choir here. "Ponyboy is still gone and we haven't heard anything in a while. We can't get in touch with him and it's killin' me. It really is."

She nodded once, understanding the emotional toll Pony's absence was inevitably taking on him. She had gotten a sob-ridden earful a few nights before. She had gathered the courage on the way here to say what she needed to say. No going back now. Just say it, she thought. Just get it over with.

He stepped closer to her. He reached his hand out to touch her face and stroke her cheek like he always did. She winced under his touch. "Where've you been?" Soda asked softly. It sounded whiny and petulant. "I called you every single day. Your mom said you were out and your dad said you were at a friend's house – I called Cindy and she said you were-"

"I'm pregnant, Soda," she said curtly. It came out quick, as if it were one syllable. Like ripping a Band-Aid off. She didn't want to cover up her failures. She looked at Soda for a split second, then back to her feet. Her mind was instantly reeling.

He stood there for a moment. Shocked. Confused. Excited. Everything else in between. In hindsight, he figured that he also looked pretty foolish. His eyes lit up instantaneously. Sandy may as well have told him that he won the lottery. But that was just Sodapop's way.

She worked over the look on his face and stepped backwards cautiously. A look that said, No, you're not getting the point.

"Sandy!" he shouted excitedly, throwing the rag onto the ground and rushing towards her. "Do you know what this means?"

She shook her head vehemently. "Sodapop, no- it's not- I'm not… what I'm trying to say is you're not-"

"I mean, we're both a little young, but everything happens for a reason, right? You can move in with us. You can finish high school and by the time the baby comes-" he rambled rapidly.

"Sodapop, will you listen to me for a second? I can't-"

"Why aren’t you excited, Sandy? You love kids-"

"You're not the father."

He stopped in his tracks. "What?" he managed out in a betrayed, weak voice. She saw the liveliness drain from his demeanor. Like popping a balloon with a sewing needle. Quick. To the point.

This time, she was the one stepping closer to him. As if the limited space would make the point clearer. She reached her arm out and he recoiled. His eyes bore holes into her.

"What do you mean?" he asked again in a louder, more demanding voice.

"It was a mistake, Sodapop," she said. "I didn't think this would happen."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. A classic Darry reflex. "Who was it?" The idea of violence crossed his mind then. He wasn't above a fist-fight.

"Soda, I don't think-"

"Who, Sandy?" he asked, an awful mix of sadness and anger in his voice.

"It doesn't matter, Sodapop," she said quietly. "It doesn't change anything."

"Did you tell him?" he asked. "That you were pregnant? Did you tell the father?" The words hurt coming out of his mouth. They just plain hurt.

She paused for a moment. Looked him, at her feet, then him again. Took a breath, tried to say something, then lost her words. She noticed his face and weakly mustered out, "No. And I'm not going to."

"Then let me do it."

She shook her head, confused. "Sodapop, I don't understand. What do you mean?"

He put his face close to hers. "If you don't tell the guy, then no one will know, Sandy. You can have the baby and I can raise it like my own. As far as anyone has to know, it's my kid." It seemed brilliant. He commended himself for coming up with such an ingenious plan. Could it be that simple?

She turned away from him, towards the car. He wasn't getting it. He never would. To him, it wasn't about her cheating or being unfaithful. He would forgive her for her infidelity. It was about her living a disadvantaged life as a single teen mother – a life he didn't think she deserved. And she would never be worthy of someone like that.

"And what, Sodapop? Live here with your brothers? Live off of your paycheck at the DX? It wouldn't be enough."

"Then let's get married," he said. "Get our own place. I'll get a better job. You can graduate."

She opened the door to her car. "My parents would never approve, Soda. You know that."

He threw his hands up in the air. "Who gives a shit what your parents think? I bet they weren't too hot about you gettin' knocked up. Who the hell are they to tell you what to do with your life?"

"Soda," she said, urging him to lower his voice. "You're making a scene."

"Well, hell, Sandy! What else are you going to do?"

"I'm moving to Florida. To live with my grandmother. Tomorrow. I'm going to raise the baby out there." She gripped the top of the door.

"You can't do that," Sodapop pleaded. "You'd have a better life here. With me."

She scoffed incredulously. Her eyes filled with tears. "C'mon, Sodapop. Wake up and take a look around. We both know that's not true."

He rubbed his eyes. Hearing this news – especially now – shot his emotions to shit. He couldn't control it. Sadness wracked his whole body. She started to climb in her car. He walked towards her. Was it really worth the pleading? Her mind was already made up. It was painfully obvious that his feelings were not considered in her decision-making. He was merely collateral damage.

"So this is goodbye?" he asked, trying not to choke on his tears.

She rubbed her eyes. "Yeah, I guess it is."

Sodapop propped his elbows on top of the car. He covered his face with his hands, rubbing his eyes.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," he murmured into his palms.

"I can't mess up your life, Sodapop," she said. "This is my problem, not yours. You don't deserve to get dragged through the mud for my mistakes."

He stepped away and looked at her. He shook his head in disbelief. "Did you ever even love me?"

She started the car. "We're sixteen, Soda. Did we even know what love was?"

He started to walk towards the house. He thought about Darry's selflessness when he took custody of him and Pony. He thought of his parents – how they lived together and died together. Unified. He thought of his dreams of marrying Sandy - having kids and growing old together. Was he too naïve? He had known what love was. Did he anymore?

"Goodbye, Sandy," he said blankly. He ran his fingers through his hair and watched her buckle her seatbelt. She put her hand on the door and turned towards him.

"Thank you, Soda. For everything. I know you'll never be able to forgive me, but I couldn't leave without telling you. I'm sorry."

He nodded once. He wouldn't look her in the eyes. He had lost so much this week. He could almost laugh at his misfortune. Not bothering to see her out, he walked back inside. Had he been brought back down to Earth in that moment, he may have gotten one last glance at her. He didn't realize it would be the last time he ever saw her. Perhaps he still wouldn't have looked back.

The lights were on when he walked in. Darry was hanging up the phone in the kitchen, probably calling someone about Ponyboy and Johnny. He had left no stone unturned. Two-Bit swore he could be the F.B.I's most valuable tool in a crisis. For how bad Sodapop looked, he figured that Darry looked twenty times worse. He looked three times his age.

He had the sudden urge to give him the tightest hug he could physically muster. Instead, he stood in place, frozen. Astonished.

"Hey, Soda," Darry said bleakly. He was worn out and distracted. "Did you fix that damn clicking?"

"Yeah." It sounded faraway. Absent-minded.

"I saw Sandy pull up to see you. What'd she have to say?"

He cringed at the question. Innocent coming from Darry, but painful nonetheless. He planned to fill him in when it didn't hurt so much to think about. He exhaled, leaning his back against the wall. He shook his head, fighting tears. "Nothing that I didn't already know about myself."

Darry looked at him, confused. Before he was able to open his mouth and pry, the shrill ring of the phone pierced the room. He rushed over to it, gripping it with white knuckles. Soda watched from the living room.

"Hello?...Yes, this is him….Are you sure?...Are you sure?...Of course….He's there now?...Oh, thank God….Yes….Yes…We'll be right there." He slammed the phone onto the receiver and turned towards Sodapop, beaming.

"They found him, Sodapop," he said. Soda was ripped out of his misery for a split second. For a brief moment, he forgot. Ponyboy is alright, he repeated to himself over and over again. He's alive.

"They're at St. Michael's Hospital downtown. Let's go," Darry boomed, rushing to pull his boots on. But Soda didn't move. He stood plastered to the wall, like he was nailed there. Darry looked at him skeptically.

"Did you hear me, Soda? Let's go." He walked over to him, touching his arm gingerly. "Are you okay, bud?"

Sodapop looked in his eyes. He was jittery and panicky; roaring with anxiousness. The room spun with the gravity of his broken heart. Did knowing Ponyboy was safe change that? No, he thought. His heart still stung. It was a different kind of heartbreak.

"I'm gonna puke," he hollered, quickly pushing Darry to the side and racing to the bathroom just in time to empty his guts into the toilet.

Darry followed him into the bathroom, patting his back as he coughed. "Alright," he said sternly. "You're telling me in the car."

[blehbleehhhh]

A Princess and a Barbarian Cheiftain ft. EreMika❣️

Hey, Braveheart anon! 💕 I see you! I hope you like it. I'm sorry it took forever to write .-. I pictured Mikasa as a warrior princess so I hope you don’t mind that lol. Please send in more requests! Also, an interesting fact from all the research I did for this one - the word "barbarian" did not have a negative meaning for everyone in the Roman Empire. It was actually used to refer to the people immigrating into their territory and not at all meant to be derogatory. I went back and forth with using historically accurate Barbarian Tribe names and writing in the Roman Empire but then I'd really have a restriction so ehhh, whatever. That's who I'm referring to when I say the "Empire'. Hope you enjoy because this damn thing took ages to fucking write! Shout out to my hubby for helping me with this! This is also a good time for me to introduce a new thing I’d like to try if people actually like it, add a drawing to my fics. Ever since I started writing this one I had a vision of Eren sitting in a chair like that with them both decked out in armor idk, I’m pretty rusty, it’s been a MINUTE since I’ve picked up my pencils, lol. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys. Yes, there’s smut, there’s angst, don’t think I have to actually put a warning in but someone complained .-.

It's a cold, frigid December morning and Princess Mikasa is on the back of her young horse with sights set on a local barbarian village because her father is finally responding to the violence done by their chieftain, a fierce and talented warrior. Emperor Ackerman wants to establish some sort of a peace treaty with him in the hopes of preventing such acts from ever occurring again, at least attacks that would be under his direction and blessing. The village is hidden behind a tall wall made from wood and what an impressive sight on the other side of the gate - a large, expansive crop field being tiled by farmers, crop animals being maintained for food and wool conveniently located near a tannery, where the hides are made into clothing then sold to villagers, and of course, a stables with a large grazing field for their horses. Mikasa was surprised to see a black smithery where one smith was currently molding a dagger out of scalding hot iron, his shop displaying many goods ranging from weapons to lock keys to horseshoes, all of the items she's seen the smiths make around her hometown. Villagers were minding their own business for the most part and working their trades, some grooming animals, some sweeping the dust out of their shops while children were running around a large tree in the center of town surrounded with dead leaves, giggling as they played tag and tossed such vegetation in the air. The princess gave her trusty steed's meaty neck a rewarding pat down by his shoulders, making his fluffy, dark ears perk up with interest, standing perfectly still as she carefully dismounted to put her stirrups back up into the saddle. Someone she recognized as being one of her father's previous subjects approached and copied Mikasa's smile when he was handed the reins. "Your Elegancy." The elderly man moved to bow respectfully and was stopped with a gentle, kind hand on the shoulder, looking up to meet her eyes with a confused expression.

"Please, that really isn't necessary, but thank you for being so respectful. Just take care of my horse for me, sir, that's all I ask."

"Of course! Some of the best hay in the area!" He turned with a smile to guide the twelve hundred pound animal into a temporary stall, where he carefully removed it's bridle and bit before locking him in behind a short, wooden stall door, allowing the horse to graze on some of their hay. Just like her Uncle Levi has taught her over the years he's been mentoring his young niece, she took in a deep breath to center herself with the advice he'd given her before she left this morning; You cannot make good decisions without a clear mind. Something that he's always insisted and Mikasa has definitely found that to be the case. And so one last time she thought through the steps Levi has constantly hounded into her head, since her parents were always too busy to raise their own child and teach these lessons themselves - the most important being to not let emotions get in the way of negotiations. The largest hut is the one she assumes to be reserved for the chieftain and it's guarded by two barbarian brutes that are definitely not intimidating at least to her, which is why she simply nodded as she opened the old, wooden door. It was difficult to maintain her trademark blank expression when she saw him - someone who doesn't even come close to resembling the stereotype that follows barbarian chieftains. There he sat upon a wooden throne boosted up on three stone slab steps and clearly missing the anticipated grisly bear of a beard in favor of a cleanly shaven, surprisingly handsome face that's framed with pushed back shoulder length, chocolate brown hair, his skin sun kissed from always being outside, and eyes so green that she swore her heart skipped a beat. What was just as surprising to her is that he appears to be about her young age of twenty four, something she didn't expect to be possible given such an impressive reputation. "Eren Jaeger?" Mikasa could feel herself blush when he responded with what she loathes to admit is quite a sexy smirk, her cheeks red already from being in the cold, and she watched his eyes as they clearly sized her up. The young man sat taller in his seat and was genuinely unsure if his eyes were in fact deceiving him because surely one of the princesses wouldn't be a warrior, but based on the armor she's wearing, it's obvious that this ravishing creature fights for the empire.

"Ah, your Elegancy. What can I do for you?"

"This destruction has gone on for long enough and it has to stop, so I've been sent here to negotiate peace."

"Why would the empire give a damn about what we do?"

"We assume that you're the one responsible for that local town being decimated? You know," Mikasa sighed as she crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. "The fifth one this year?" He simply gave her a slow nod and pulled his hair back into a small, low ponytail at the nape of his neck, now flashing an amused grin that she's counting things out for added effect. "Okay, we'll continue. How about all of those castles that have been destroyed? The crop fields bunt? The countless Lords and knights you've killed? I realize someone else could have done this, but you're our most problematic tribe." Eren smiled and nodded his head, leaning his cheek on his fist because she’s simply alluring.

"Oh no, that was most definitely me."

"Why? You have killed so many people! Why?"

"I've been doing it for years now. Why would you get involved now?"

"Because you're out of control! What is the meaning of this?"

"You aristocrats and your stupid government have some laws that tend to be harmful to my people and I simply cannot have that. I refuse to tolerate injustices of any kind when there's something that can be done about it!" Eren leaned forward in his throne as his fists slammed into the wooden arm rests and was surprised when she didn't cower, it seems he won't be getting his way with this one. "Besides, I tend to attack other tribes that fuck me over and I could care less what your father thinks of me."

She simply rolled her eyes.

"What could those people have possibly done to warrant such extreme violence?"

"The most recent village happened after I had attempted to establish a peace treaty with their leader, so I sent one of my best men over. Only his head returned three days later hanging off the horse's saddle."

"I'm sorry about your loss," And then her expression fell sympathetic when she pictured a sight so horrific. "I really can't imagine." His face softened as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Yeah, well, I know you're not here to give your condolences. You want peace with me?"

"That, and I would love to actually give the families of Lords and knights some kind of closure instead of just staring at them blankly -" She paused to take a deep breath when she remembered that day in battle, where a very dear friend was ruthlessly murdered. Nobody could have done anything to stop the blitz attack, because the one who killed him rode past on their horse so quickly that there wasn't any time to respond. And suddenly her face grew as fierce as before. "One of my Uncle's best legionnaires was killed in battle last year with your men. I was there when he was decapitated, Eren, and the killer looked an awful lot like you." In a second his eyes screamed irritation and he sat forward in his throne almost growling.

"Yeah, I know exactly who you're talking about. That asshole was responsible for wiping out half of my men with your Uncle's assistance! Those people had families!"

"He left behind a wife and two little boys!"

"And should you aristocrats decide not to feed these people when they inevitably become poor," Eren smirked as he cracked his knuckles because he knows that his words have made her angry and he finds it extremely amusing. "I'm happy to take them in as I so often do when they wander away from the city. Those two morons back there were originally a part of your father's empire." The girl knit her brows together and growled under her breath because she's all too aware of the empire’s failings when it comes to caring for its people who aren't wealthy. She snarled under her breath and allowed her hands to curl into fists at her sides.

"Why, you gargantuan piece of -!" Mikasa paused and took a deep breath to collect herself. "I'll have you know that he was a very good man and someone you probably could have taken some pointers from!" Those words immediately changed the room's atmosphere and both of them felt it as they tried to intimidate the other with their increasingly heated exchange.

"So what," He rose from his throne tall and definitely commanded the room with such an intimidating presence, smelling of ale and nature. "Because I'm brutal with my enemies, I can't be a gentleman?" The fur pelt around his neck swayed as he slowly walked down the slab steps, their eyes watching each other with mutually fierce expressions. Now, this woman is stunning. Until the princess waltzed in, Eren has never really felt tempted enough to bother with something as distracting as being in some kind of relationship, but she's definitely worth the effort. There truly isn't anything he finds sexier than a woman this passionate, actually cares, and actively pursues justice, hell, the fact that she's so attractive is nothing more than icing on the cake. Her eyes are a beautiful gray-blue and they go so well with long, silky black hair that frames such a slim and angelic face, matching perfectly with her fair skin. Yes, Mikasa certainly is every bit as breathtaking as he's so often heard her described from others that had the privilege of being graced with her presence. But he can tell from her body language that his usual intimidation tactics haven't managed to get things straightened so far and with a glance behind her, he nodded at the two men standing guard at the building's entrance. "You two. Out. Now." His eyes flickered down to hers once more as he reached for a water canteen and brought it to his lips, finishing whatever was left in a large gulp before setting the empty container down on the table. She crossed her arms over her chest and sighed deeply.

"You certainly don't behave like a gentleman."

"Aw, that isn't a very nice way to negotiate, princess."

"I hate being called that. And I'm only behaving this way because you're being an ass. How dare you speak to me that way!"

"Respect is earned, princess," Eren smirked as he slipped his hands into his fur lined pockets, eyes giving her a second once over. "And I have no respect for the empire. You have a failing economy, the taxes are much too high, and you're so lazy that you literally use barbarian tribes to guard your fucking borders! Just what kind of an army is your Uncle running?"

"Well, it's better than a bunch of assholes who rape women, murder innocent people and destroy lands!"

"This tribe doesn't rape women. I've actually had quite a few of my own men executed for doing that. And I don't have people executed unless I think it's called for." Because he was just as passionate about this response, Mikasa reasoned that she's being told the truth when he insists such behaviors aren't tolerated here. "But I won't deny destroying lands, crops, killing Lords and knights, because I did all of that to protect my people. We're fighting for our lives just like everyone else." She briefly looked away with a sigh and pushed her fingers through her hair when she met his eyes once more with a considerably softened expression.

"I appreciate that, Eren, I really do, but if you don't it knock off the brutality, I'll be forced to have you and your men executed."

"Oooh," The young man smirked as he took a few steps closer to her and was surprised when she didn't back away, only flashed a genuine smile he finds to be extremely beautiful, pressing her fists into her sides. How cute. "Is that a threat?"

"No, actually, it's a promise," Mikasa smiled and bit her lower lip as they intently studied each other's eyes, an amused grin teasing his lips because he's never felt so attracted to someone before and boy does he want her. "I already have permission to have you all killed. Hell, I'll decapitate you myself."

"A princess that yields a sword? You are as impressive as I've heard."

"I have a collection." She flashed a devilish grin and cocked an eyebrow, very aware that his eyes are drawn to her lips and she was extremely flattered. Little did she know that smirk he wears is because he's ashamed to have already wondered briefly if she's this playful in bed.

"What's in it for me if I cooperate?"

"You mean besides living?"

"I think you know exactly what I meant." Eren brought a hand to his mouth, itching the corner with his finger as he briefly looked away because he's extremely amused, especially now that she has taken a few steps closer with her eyes still glued on his. They flickered down to his lips, her rational mind quickly being over powered since she's giving some serious consideration to defying Levi's instruction and giving in to this undeniable, magnetic spark between them that neither are really willing to resist. Love at first sight indeed.

"You won't be invaded and we won't destroy your crops."

"While that is appreciated, I'm afraid it's just not enough."

"Any tribes that you struggle with?"

"Yeah," He crossed his arms over his chest as they got closer and smiled at just how much he's truly enjoying this fire she has. "There are a few. Unfortunately, we aren't quite strong enough to deal with them on our own now thanks to your Uncle, since they're many in number and much larger than the ones I've already taken care of." The young woman bit her lower lip as she studied his face, so chiseled and handsome. Even the man she's been engaged to since she was four doesn't look at her like this.

"We can help you fight them."

"You also have a few of my people in custody that I'd really like back."

"Okay," Mikasa smiled as she pushed her fingers through her hair, the strands slowly falling before her eyes. "I can get them out of jail and talk with my father about maybe getting their charges dropped." He just slowly nodded his head in agreement and smirked as he closed the small gap that remained between them, an action that made her cheeks a little rosy.

"Now, that is an interesting offer."

"Well, wait a second, you need to hold up your end," She hesitantly placed a hand on his chest and was relieved when he simply smiled instead of backing away. "All we want is your cooperation if we have to fight other tribes. We may have a large military, but there's only so much border and territory we can cover on our own. The empire has grown quickly and continues to do so." Her eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips, waiting patiently for what she hopes will be good news. So much for not letting my emotions get involved..

"Fine." Eren smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and placed his hands on her hips, leaning in slowly to kiss the lips he's admittedly been eying since she walked in. But the door suddenly opened, and they rushed to pull away as one of his men stuck his head in the room to deliver a message having unknowingly interrupted their first kiss. "What is it?" He hissed out of frustration because he was finally about to kiss her after bickering back and forth with palpable sexual tension for almost an hour. Mikasa bites her lip, clasping her hands together behind her back as she impatiently watches him speak with one of his men.

"Sir, our scouts have returned. They determined that the new nearby tribe isn't a threat."

"Yeah, okay, thank you." Eren was already moving to grab her by the waist as soon as the door closed with a mutually playful smirk. "So, like, do you always negotiate peace treaties with yourself? Or am I just lucky enough to be the first one?"

"Luck had nothing to with what's about to happen," Mikasa smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him closer until their lips were almost touching. "I want you so badly.." She whispered, letting out the softest moan when he finally kissed her, a moment so magnetic, so magical that it truly seemed as if they were the only two people in the world and nothing else mattered but them. The encounter left them both feeling dizzy and that lingered long after he pulled away, her nose slowly rubbing alongside his.

"Maybe we should find somewhere more private?" He breathed to her smile and smirked when she backed away enough for him to see her biting her lip, and he was more than happy to drag her by the hand out the back door so his people don't see them leaving together for the chieftain's private living quarters. Their hearts were already racing once they got on the other side of the door and the tension had reached a new high as she started removing her armor to reveal basic cold weather clothing; several tunics, wool leggings and socks with her tall leather boots. Mikasa chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her waist with a smirk and pulled her into his solid form, sliding her hands along his fur cape to lift it over his head, tossing it on the floor. She crashed her lips against his and jumped up to capture his waist with her legs as they slowly wandered to his bed together, exchanging frantic kisses and carefully laying her on her back. Large hands slide beneath multiple, wool tunics and she was disappointed when their lips had momentarily parted so he could tug them over her head, revealing an insanely slim and beautifully toned body that he was already very drawn to.

"You're fucking gorgeous."

"Thank you.." She blushed as he grabbed onto one of her legs, smiling and watching her eyes while he pulls off her boots, then leggings and socks. Mikasa sat up on the edge of the bed as she reached for his layers of warm tunics and slid them up his body with her hands, which encouraged him to remove them and toss the bundle aside. Her cheeks immediately grew red at the best set of abs she's ever seen as he reached behind her back to loosen her corset until she was able to remove it still in shock - slim, slender, absolutely ripped. "Wow, and you say my body is incredible?"

"That's because it is. At the risk of sounding crass, I've been with quite a few women, and you're just top notch gorgeous. And a tough as hell. Which is even hotter."

"Were any of them good at giving head?" Mikasa grinned as she placed a gentle hand on his bulge and slowly slid it up to tuck her fingers behind his wool pants and sheepskin underpants. "Because I've been told I do.." He smirked as she dropped everything to his ankles and proceeded to gently curve her fingers around the thickness, her tongue lapping at the tiny amount of goo oozing from the sensitive tip. With a low groan he carefully gathered her hair away from her face and watched as she opened her mouth, leaning in slowly to control how quickly she swallows his long length, nuzzling her nose at the base in soft brown hair.

"Fuck, you are good..." Eren chuckled with a simultaneous moan as she gently pulled back with her cheeks sucked in, just enough to add her hand back into the mix so she can stroke with gentle twists of his shaft. She suddenly picked up her pace as she stroked and sucked him in tandem, making his hips jerk with his slightly louder groans and moans. But she was prepared and swallowed his length eagerly once more, content with him slowly pumping into her mouth. "You are literally the perfect girl, holy shit -" He paused when she moaned softly around him and slowly released his length from her mouth with an audible pop, biting her lower lip as she lay back on his bed so he can climb on top. "I realize now what I said just came across that you're only the perfect girl because you give amazing head, but I didn't mean for it to." She giggled just loud enough for him to hear as he began to tug down on her underpants, his eyes watching hers for any sign of hesitation only to find nothing but pure lust.

"You were fine, but thank you anyway.."

"Of course," Eren smirked as he leaned in to kiss her and tossed her underpants aside, their lips only parting so his can wander agonizingly slow down her body. "Now, where were we?" She grinned, blushing furiously as her hips are hoisted up over his shoulders so he can drag his tongue along her glistening slit and she grasped onto both of her breasts, watched him munch away at her sweet spot from above while her body dangles off of his.

"Erenn...." She squeezed her breasts as he stretched his arm down to touch one of her breasts, surrendering control over how hard he squeezes to her. His lips sealed around her clit, suckling in just the right way that caused an almost immediate climax and inspired him to playfully pop his hand on her ass, making Mikasa giggled as squeals with delight, struggling endlessly not to grind against his mouth because he's holding her so tight. "Ohh! Please, please!" She pleaded through her helpless moans and blushed a shade darker when he opened his eyes to hers, slowly pulling his lips off to plant a kiss over the pink skin. He smiled as he carefully lay her down on the bed and leaned in to kiss her, his hand wandering down so he position himself at her entrance. They both moaned into their increasingly passionate smooch as he carefully slipped deep inside the heat, lingering here to let her body get used to him being in there. Suddenly, he was thrusting into her so quickly, that it forced her to tear her lips away, watching his eyes as he absolutely railed her. "Eren! Eren! Eren!" With a most pleasurable cry she clawed at his back, letting out the occasional whimper amidst her helpless moans. And the sight of her clearly feeling satisfied made him smirk, something that she's certain will always make her heart skip a beat. "What?"

"Nothing, you're just ridiculously sexy," He paused when her eyes rolled back in pure bliss and she came hard, slowing his thrusts significantly since he's not quite ready to finish yet. "Seriously, I knew I had to have you as soon as you walked in." Those beautiful eyes opened to his and he offered a heartwarming grin as he leaned in to kiss her once more, thrusting into her deep and slow. She sighed into his mouth, reciprocating his thrusts as she pulled her lips away with a moan and giggled softly, placing a gentle hand on his cheek to touch the prominent dimples she's already loves.

"You look nothing like what I expected."

"What do you mean?"

"You're ridiculously hot.." She grinned as he suddenly took off and slammed into her, his smirk making her belly burn with desire as he stops again, sliding his hands beneath her back to encourage her to roll onto her stomach and she did so slowly, giggling small giggles as he gently pulls her up on all fours by the hips.

"I am?" Eren whispered in her ear as she eagerly spreads her legs for him, his cock still nestled deeply inside. "I'm ridiculously hot?"

"The only other cheif I've met wasn't even close to being attractive. But you are just..." Mikasa grinned when she felt his hands warm hands curve around her slender hips, his kisses slow on her spine and a smirk evident against her skin. "...the complete opposite."

"Last thing I expected when I woke up this morning was a sexy warrior princess to shiw up.” His husky voice whispered to her as he kissed up her back, making the entirety of her fair skin blush a light shade of pink. She moaned at the sound if his voice and pushed herself back against him, making her moan in such a way that he couldn't help but do the same.

"I should have guessed someone as stubborn as you would be a tease.." She purred immediate, pleasurable sounds when he took off and thrusted into her so quickly that neither  could think a coherent thought. She slowly slid her arms out until she could rest the side of her face on a pillow, clawing at the sheets and moaning loud whimpers. "Eren! Eren! Eren!"

"Mikasa.." He whispers breathlessly in her ear as she moaned through her climax, slowly pulling her hips back into his and pushing them forward. "I'll help protect your borders if you let me see you again. I assume you're like most princesses and are already engaged or married to another man, but to be honest, I really don't fucking care."

"I don't either, my fiancé is already cheating on me anyway. He even has a kid with her. Wait, you know I'm engaged to someone else, yet you still want to see me again?"

"I'm sorry," Eren's voice was genuine, soft and husky in her ear. "He sounds like an ass. Why are you so surprised that I want to see you again?"

"I didn't think you felt anything between - ah! aha! ah!" She squealed with delight when he suddenly took off and absolutely drilled into her and she loved it. "Oohhh!" Her hips started to tremble and she whimpered pleasurably, white knuckling the sheets as she bounces her hips back against his.

"I can't get enough of you already! Fuck! You're like a drug!" He moaned with her as he dug his fingers into her hips and guided her faster, sending his lover into an equally euphoric state. "I'm gonna cum!" In one swift movement he quickly pulled out at the perfect time and exploded all over her back with countless groans, hisses, and low moans. Eren held onto her tightly as they collapsed together on their sides and made her the little spoon, both hearts thumping hard against their rib cages. She sighed happily and yawned as she reached her hand up to push her damp hair back, already feeling sleepy from the most incredible sex she's ever had. “Damn, you’re incredible.”

"Mmm," Mikasa hummed with a smile and stretched back against him as he kissed any skin he could readily reach. "We need to figure out how to sneak you into my bedchamber.." His embrace is warm and welcoming as they settle beneath the blankets, basking in the heat coming from the fireplace that's giving the now dark room an orange glow. It's safe to assume that an unspoken agreement has been made between the two and that at least this tribe will no longer be of concern, all thanks to the negotiations between a barbarian chieftain and a princess.

[eeveevie]

“Don’t EVER do that again” for Brynjolf x Fiona if you’re taking ficlet prompts :D

A nightmare, a break-in and an abundance of emotions. Fiona says “I love you” for the first time. 

(congratulations anon, you win the prize for “prompt that got crab to write fiona’s confession on love”. it did not start that way, but here we are !)

Brynjolf x Fiona 💗🗡

1851 words (under a cut for length) | Ao3

“I’ll be certain to give Brynjolf your regards.”

Mercer’s wicked, self-satisfied grin was all too clear, even through the haze of the poison racing through her veins. He crouched over her paralyzed body and peered down at her with that golden longsword drawn, brimming with magical energy. He wasn’t hesitating, no, he was watching her squirm—the sick bastard.  

She felt a crash of emotions—but at the forefront of her mind was the regret she’d be taking to her grave—she thought of Brynjolf one last time as the blade sliced against her throat and then—nothing.

Only darkness.

Fiona sprang out from her bedsheets with a startling gasp, her throat tight and heart racing as if it would beat right out of her chest. The scar along the right side of her neck burned and she instinctively reached up to feel at it, almost expecting to feel the sticky touch of blood, but there was nothing. The skin was still incredibly sensitive, the jagged lines far from fading away—she would wear the mark Mercer left for the rest of her days. She inhaled deeply, desperately trying to steady her breathing but couldn’t shake the nightmare away.

She glanced to the empty void next to her and frowned, reminding herself she had no reason to be upset. Since her and Karliah’s return to Riften, Brynjolf had on more than one occasion stayed the night for protection—not that Fiona really needed it, but she had welcomed his company and comfort. Their relationship was different now—yet to have a definition, but it was obvious they were now far from being the just friends from before. If they ever really were “just friends” to begin with. In that moment, her mind still hazy with the memory of Snowveil Sanctum, she found her heart aching for Brynjolf, wishing he was there to sooth the pain away. He was one of the few people that truly understood.  

The only reason he wasn’t there that evening was because he was chasing a lead with Delvin, hoping to corner one of Mercer’s contacts in Shor’s Stone for information, wanting to confirm what they had found in Riftweald Manor. Karliah was also away, busy making some kind of preparations that would eventually involve both Fiona and Brynjolf—only time would tell.

Just as Fiona resigned to settle back against the pillows, she heard a rustling at her front door, the eastern entrance. She froze in her spot, listening intently as the scratching continued—was it an animal? The doorknob wiggled as she realized someone was attempting to wiggle the lock lose. Her chest tightened with a new wave of fright, even as she convinced herself that nobody was that stupid to break into the Dragonborn’s homestead. Even Mercer.

The thought of his name made her skin crawl and had her jumping from her bed and grabbing her dagger from her nightstand, silently but swiftly stepping towards the door. Just as she made it to the frame the sounds stopped and all fell silent, but only for a moment. The next sound Fiona heard was creaking, footsteps across her roof. Panic began to coarse through her and for a split second she thought about shouting through the ceiling, not caring about the destruction it would cause. She followed the sounds with her eyes, slowly crossing the floor towards the balcony doors, avoiding the shadows the fireplace cast against the windows on the western wall.  

Whoever it was had landed on the balcony with a muffled grunt—clearly not the most experienced sneak thief—but it didn’t give her any pause. She stood next to the doorway with her back flat to the wooden paneling as the intruder finessed the lock, this time having easier luck. Her hands shook as she clutched the hilt of her dagger tight, scolding herself for not changing the locks like she said she would. She closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer to the Divines as the door slowly creaked open, a shadowy crouched form creeping in through the night.

Fiona pounced immediately, yelling out in a mix of fear and anger, their bodies colliding against the door and slamming it shut. She swung her fist out first, knuckles colliding with the jaw of the trespasser before her other arm arced down, dagger ready to strike. Two hands caught her wrists, stopping her movements completely. The larger body moved to stand, jerking her closer.  

“Augh! Fiona!” A familiar voice. “It’s me!”

“Bryn?” she whispered, blinking in an effort to see his face in the darkness.

He pulled one hand away to yank back his hood, confirming that it really was him. An overwhelming abundance of emotions flooded over her at the sight of his face and her chest contracted tightly, breath hitching in her throat. Before she even realized what was happening tears were clouding her vision, quickly pouring over to slide down her cheeks. Her hands trembled as she dropped her weapon to the floor, her other hand gripping his shoulder tightly when her knees threatened to buckle from beneath her.

“I’ve got you,” Brynjolf murmured, his arms swiftly moving to scoop her up and hold her steady against him.

At first she clutched him in a desperate hug, thankful he was there—but she was so overwhelmed, self-conscious and unsure of where her more vulnerable emotions had come from. Yes, he had seen her cry before, but that didn’t mean that she felt completely comfortable shedding them in front of him. Still, she held onto him tightly, face buried in the curve of his shoulder as she openly sobbed.

“I—I had a nightmare,” she wept. Brynjolf’s arms tugged her closer, his nose nuzzling against the top of her head. “It was Mercer, at Snowveil Sanctum. When I heard the noises at the door I thought—I thought he had—”  

His arms tensed at her words and she could tell he was already feeling remorse. Still, she smacked her palm against his chest, gripping the leather of his armor to shake him slightly. “Don’t you ever do that again.”

“Aye lass,” he hushed against her temple, hands caressing down her back and through her hair. “If I have to spend the rest of my days begging for forgiveness, I will—”

“You better,” she agreed, failing miserably at a tease. They stood there for a long while, just holding each other close until her tears subsided, body relaxing against his. It was a forgone conclusion, but she really hoped that he was there to stay for the evening. She didn’t want to assume anything, even now.  

He pressed a soft kiss to the side of her face, humming as he spoke. “What do you say lass, could you ever forgive a fool like me?”

“You are so lucky that I love you,” she sighed.

Fiona froze in his embrace, realizing that she had said the words out loud.

Brynjolf’s arms tightened around her before relaxing, his soft laugh tickling the side of her face. “What was that?”

Fiona burrowed her face against his shoulder, feeling her whole body warm in embarrassment. “Nothing,” she said meekly, but it was of no use.

He carefully peeled her off of his chest and she reluctantly glanced up to meet his gaze. She had expected to find a teasing expression but instead she found him looking at her in a state of wonder, eyes sparkling, and lips slowly stretching into a wide grin. Even in the dimly lit room, she could see his own flushed cheeks—her sudden confession had surprised him as much as it had her.

“You love me?”

Fiona released a shaky breath, nodding once. “Yes.”

Brynjolf steadily brushed back the hair from her face before framing his hands against her cheeks, fingers curling against the back of her neck to tilt her head closer to his. His initial kiss was slow, tongue gently coaxing her lips apart, it gradually deepening. One of his hands threaded through her hair, cupping the back of her head as he shifted closer, Fiona eagerly meeting him as she slid her arms around his shoulders. Gods, she never wanted him to stop kissing her, even if it meant she would die of suffocation.

He eventually did pull away, albeit slowly, almost reluctantly. Fiona found herself exhaling in a short gasp, breathless. Brynjolf was still smiling, expression delirious as if he had been drinking mead from her lips. It was irresistible—she closed the gap once more for a swift series of kisses that trailed from his mouth along his jaw and to the collar of his armored coat. Finally she pulled away, copying his grin with one of her own. Even so, she could still feel the flush of heat on her face and the rapid thump of her heart beating against her ribs.

“Please say it again,” he breathed, green eyes shimmering with an emotion she hadn’t seen before—almost like a brand-new form of excitement.

Fiona nodded, nuzzling her cheek against his hand as his thumb brushed along her jawline in an affectionate sweep. “If you’ll stay.”

“If I’ll stay she asks—of course I’m staying,” he remarked with a chuckle. “That is, only if you give me a key. Can only stop breaking in someplace if I have a key, lass.”

She laughed, turning her head once more to kiss his palm and the inside of his wrist. With another nod of her head she reluctantly pulled herself away from his embrace if only to move to her desk where she kept a strongbox of valuables. Within she found the spare key for Honeyside, a small blue ribbon tied to the end—something she had been meaning to give to him for a while now. The timing seemed perfect with her confession of the heart. When Fiona turned to face him she found him tossing his discarded coat across the nearby chair, untucking his cotton undershirt from his pants.

“Don’t lose this,” she instructed, tucking the golden metal into his palm. “You won’t be getting another.”

Brynjolf nodded, covering her hand with his. “Consider this my most prized possession. Well, next to you…” His sly smirk faltered. “Not that I see you as something to be possessed—”

“Bryn,” she cut him off, leaning in to place a gentle kiss to his lips. “Its alright to say. I’m yours.” She caught his gaze and felt her heart flutter, a warmth radiate across her body and tingle run across her spine. “I love you.”

Two times. Progress.

“One more time?” he asked tentatively.

Fiona first ensured the key was safely slipped away in his coat before she wrapped her arms around him, kissing him sweetly and softly in the perfect way she adored. He kissed her back, two passionate kisses in quick succession. With another she broke away with the softest of whispers, “I love you.”

Without realizing she had been waiting her whole life to feel this way. She was in love and had no reason to be afraid anymore.

leave a tumblr kudos 💙🦀

[sagara-megumi]

SasuSaku Month 2019 - Day 4: City Lights || [Fanfic] Family Ties - Chapter 2

Sorry for the long delay in posting this chapter but health and relatives visits made it a bit difficult (having nephews and nieces around asking you to play with them isn’t the best way to get inspired). Also, Sasuke made things a bit difficult XD

Title: Family Ties: Chapter 2

Rating: T/PG-13

Words: 3470

Notes: Well, as I stated in the previous chapter, there are going to be vampires in this story ^^ I don’t know if you’ve read manga about vampires before but just in case you haven’t, I’m going to tell you a little about them because Japanese vampires are different from Western ones.

It’s important to know that depending on the manga/anime they’re represented with some characteristics or others but what I think it’s the main difference is that vampires are more supernatural beings rather than undead creatures. Therefore, we can find vampires who can walk freely during the day, have superpowers, procreate, work… however, I think that one of the most important things is that they don’t have the pressing need of drinking blood to survive. I don’t want to elaborate too much on this topic because then, the notes would be too long and also, I want to uncover things as they happen in the story ^^ But if you want to check some more info, you can go here.

English isn’t my first language so if you spot any mistakes, please tell me. I hope that you enjoy it, and thank you for the notes and follows :)

.

CHAPTER 2

Expectations.

Uchiha Sasuke closed the door of his father’s office and walked along the corridor on the ground floor of the duplex house which had been his home for years, heaving a barely audible sigh. More and more expectations kept on mounting on his shoulders every single time he visited him and showed him his results, either academic, sports or social. However, it was never enough. Every single time, his brother’s name came into the conversation comparing their grades and their merits.

Despite this, he was not angry or unhappy, or hated his brother. Being a child, he had felt neglected in favour of him but Itachi had always tried to be there for him, even though he was busy himself, helping him with his studies and giving him advice. And even though he still had to deal with judgements, his views had changed as he grew. He had become aware that his father did that because Itachi was his successor as the clan head and also, because he wanted Sasuke to keep growing and be better, so nobody could say anything about any of his sons. Especially at that moment, in his situation.

He went up the stairs, heading to his bedroom. After his parents’ divorce, Itachi had stayed with this father while he, as a minor, had been taken in by his mother when she left the family clan. He now led a “normal” life that he did not want, living in a small rented apartment outside the family’s influence area, surrounded by people he did not have any interest to know and having to do things he was not used to, like doing the shopping or the washing-up.

He entered the room and, after looking through the window for a moment, at the city which was starting to come to life as night approached and buildings, street lamps and neon signs were lit, he took off his dark green uniform jacket, the striped tie around his neck and unbuttoned the top of his shirt, sitting on the bed, feeling slightly tired. He only had to wait a year and a half more to abandon all that, to be back to his origins and carve his own future, with his own kind. And he had to use that time wisely to harden himself so when he came back, people could see this strength and success over his mistakes.

He leant back, letting himself fall on the mattress and closed his eyes. His mistakes, his weaknesses… They were so many that sometimes, he doubted the clan could overlook them one day. Some were small, things that a child did carelessly and were frowned upon but others… He clenched his jaw. Others…

He buried his face in his pillow but nothing, not even his own scent, came from it. He opened his eyes and propped himself on one elbow, glaring at the fabric and pressing his lips together. The maid had changed the sheets again as if they were dirty after just one night. Maybe they feared that he brought any human odour with him. He half-closed his black eyes. It was true that the place where he lived on weekdays was full of smells he had never perceived before, like food being cooked, cars passing by, perfumes mixed in the air from men and women who passed along the corridor on the street or the sheets of his own bed which smelled of the floral fragrance of the fabric softener that his mother used when doing the laundry. At the beginning, it had annoyed him, especially for his sensitivity for smells, but after a while, he had got used to it. His thoughts went to her and the last time he had seen her, the previous morning during breakfast. She had been paler than usual, and it was as if she had lost her energy. She had said that she was tired, as Christmas was approaching and she had become busier with work, but he did not know whether to believe her or not. A part of him wanted to call her to see how she was, but another one berated him for having such feelings. That was exactly what his father and everyone around him wanted him to fight.

Breathing deeply, he stood up and finished changing his clothes. Then, he took out some books from the bookcase next to his desk and sat down, ready to study some more before dinner.

Minutes later, he stood up to take one more, a novel, for his Classic Literature homework but another one attracted his attention, and he picked it up. It was a copy of ‘Beauty and Sadness’ by Kawabata Yasunori which probably belonged to Itachi, as he did not usually read those types of books. He swallowed. And it was the same book the girl on the train was reading the day before. He had seen it in one of the glimpses he had caught of her.

In the beginning, he had not been more interested in her than in other humans who surrounded him on his way to school in that uncomfortable train carriage. She was one of the hundreds of students he crossed paths with during his day. And by the looks she sneaked at him, another one infatuated by his appearance. He had felt so annoyed that the following day, as he saw her enter the car, he had ignored her during the whole journey.

However, as he had sensed her attention gradually shift from him to the books that she brought to read during the ride, he had started to get curious about her, not so much as to steal glances at her like an idiot in love, but enough to wonder about her taste in literature or find out her school. It was not a bad one, but not the best for a bright mind as he supposed by the curiosity he had seen in her green eyes and her seriousness while reading when she carried advanced textbooks with her instead of novels.

And then, it was that aroma that she sometimes gave out. It was subtle and slightly sweet, like a summer breeze bringing the smell of ripe fruit. Now and then, it was mixed with recently applied cologne and it became a walk through a garden in spring. Even though he had already known that all humans had their own fragrance, hers had always been comforting, inviting but not tempting.

Until a few mornings ago, when she had given her seat to an old woman and she had taken a grab handle, her back to him. Maybe it was because she had been nearer him or because there had been any kind of disturbance in her feelings, or just because he was more sensitive that day, but her scent had surrounded him, intense and enthralling. His heart had thundered in his chest and goose pimples had formed on his skin, his pupils prickling slightly as his hunger-

“Sasuke?”

He jumped and turned suddenly, seeing his brother just behind him, his hand barely touching his shoulder. He had not heard him enter.

“I knocked but you didn’t answer…”

He breathed deeply, noticing that his fingers hurt, and he realised that his hold on the book had tightened until his knuckles had become white. Strange energy, like a low electrical current, fluttered in his veins, making him oddly upset.

“Sorry” he replied, clenching his jaw and trying to regain his composure. “Did you want something?”

Itachi furrowed his brow slightly. It was not like Sasuke to show his feelings openly, and to his eyes, it was obvious that something had been bothering him. When he had entered his bedroom and seen him stood there, immobile, his breath slightly agitated and his mind really far away from there. However, he was showing him a composed expression now, regarding him calmly, as always. He opened his mouth go ask but his little brother interrupted him.

“I found this here” he said, showing him the book.

“Oh, that’s mine, thank you” he replied, taking it. “Shisui lent it to me, I probably left it somewhere and one of the maids thought it was yours.”

Sasuke nodded and then, put his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“And? What did you want?” he repeated.

“Oh, they called us for dinner and I thought we could go downstairs together” the younger man spared a glance at his homework and then, took a step towards Itachi. “But, are you sure you’re alright? You look a bit pale…”

“Yes,” he straightened himself and looked at his brother. “I just need to go out tonight.”

.

Sakura started to go down the stairs from the school library in the building next to the sports facilities with a loud sigh, as the librarian closed the door behind her. She had lost track of the time while studying for her exams and now it was almost dark. A chill ran down her spine as a cold gust of wind passed her and she shrugged under her thick uniform coat.

Being a third-year student was not being easy at all, but she had thoroughly organised herself to be able to get to everything. At the beginning of the school year, her father and she had split the housework in a different way so she could have much more time to study and she had left her club too; also, she had a study group with Neji and Tenten, the only ones of her friends who were the same age as her, and they met every week to review the lessons and solve questions. She sometimes felt envious of the others, who, being in second year, still could afford to go to a café or the karaoke after class. In many occasions, Sakura had wondered why she had been in such a hurry to be born. If she had only waited for three more days…

“Sakura-chan!”

She was crossing the terrace in front of the main building, which had a fountain in the centre and led into a promenade lined by rows of leafless trees, when she had heard her name. Turning, she saw Naruto running towards her, waving. There were few times now when they could walk back home together and at that moment she was grateful for his company to avoid thinking about everything which was happening in her life, at such frantic speed that she barely felt strong enough to deal with all.

He reached her and smiled widely, his cheeks red for the effort and the cold, and he bent over a bit, putting his hands on his knees to recover his breath. A moment later, he started coughing and she sighed.

“What am I going to do with you…” she said pressing a hand on his back and rubbing vigorously to get through the different layers of cloth. “If you get ill, your mum’s going to be mad at you.”

“I just…” he replied, his smile still intact, as he lifted his head to her. “… saw you and I had to catch you” he straightened and inhaled deeply again. “I wanted to ask you about your dad and his girlfriend.”

If Ino was her best friend, Naruto was like a brother to her. They had met as babies when his parents had moved to their neighbourhood, three houses down the street from hers. They had been together in each of their school stages, she helping him to study when they had important exams and Kushina was exasperated because her son preferred to disappear to play football with other boys, during the summer holidays when they went to each other’s houses and played in their paddling pools until they did not fit in them anymore, and even when Naruto confessed to her when he was fourteen and she rejected him. They had overcome bad moments, fights and bumps in the road, and after sixteen years, they were still as close. He was the only one who knew about his father’s relationship and the change that was about to happen in her life, and even though he was not trustworthy in some kinds of secrets, she knew that he would take to his grave those things that she had talked to him about in the privacy of their bedrooms and that nobody else knew.

“Nothing happened.”

Naruto looked at her curiously and scratched his head as they started walking again.

“But you said he was going to drop the bomb last Sunday, right?”

“He said it wasn’t the right moment, so he decided to wait” Sakura bit her lower lip. “However, there’s something I don’t understand… When I saw him the following morning, he looked worried, as if something… unexpected… had happened. He tried to play it off but I think he lied to me…”

“A fight?”

She shrugged trying to appear nonchalant, but he could clearly see that it was quite the opposite, so he decided to change the topic.

“Hey, do you want to have dinner at home? You said your dad was working overtime and it’s depressing to eat alone. Besides, today mum’s making stew. Gramps’s come for a few days and he’s brought some delicious mushrooms from the village.”

She smiled at him, thankful.

“Alright. But first, I’ll go home to change clothes.”

“I’ll go with you, It’s just a couple of houses away…”

.

Jiraiya was a friendly happy old man who only had a fault, he was a real pervert. Sakura had discovered it when she had started showing curves, but by then, she already knew how to deal with that side of Naruto’s grandfather.

She was overjoyed inwardly when, upon entering his best friend’s house dining room and greet the family, the wide grin on the old man’s face turned into a disappointed pout when he saw that she was wearing straight jeans and a loose thick cardigan which reached past her hips over her black jumper. Also, she realised he did not drop anything under the table during the dinner, as it had happened at other times, and she made a mental note to warn Hinata, Naruto’s girlfriend, about that when she visited the house while his grandfather was there, or she would have a hard time.

And it was really lucky that neither Minato nor Naruto had inherited that trait.

Her smartphone rang while she was enjoying some tea that Kushina had served after dinner and, when she picked it up, she saw it was her father, to whom she had left a message saying where she would be.

“Naruto, take Sakura home” his mother asked him while she bid farewell.

He made a face

“But, there’re only two houses between ours and she can manage… I’d prefer to stay here” he complained while moving forward under the kotatsu covers to make his point. “Moreover, the baseball match’s going to start.”

Kushina put her hands on her hips as Sakura chuckled, knowing what was coming. The woman started ranting about her son’s lack of manners and how Hinata could get tired of him one day if he treated her like that. In the end, Naruto stood up with a sour face.

“You shouldn’t have…” Sakura whispered to Kushina when he left to retrieve his coat. “Now I feel pity for him.”

“He has to learn that he can’t treat girls as his football teammates and that it doesn’t matter if you’ve grown up together, you’re not one either” she glanced at Minato and a soft smile appeared on her mouth. “His father was clumsy and dense for these things too, but he was more considerate.”

Both left the house and stayed in the doorstep for a moment. A cold breeze blew past them, leaving their noses freezing, and Naruto started shivering while he shrugged to emphasize the fact that he had left the comfort of the kotatsu to see her home, and she laughed.

“I got it” she took a few steps ahead and turned, walking backwards. “Tomorrow, I’ll invite you to hot chocolate so you can forgive me” his eyes glinted as they went through the gate and started walking up the street; he was too predictable. “So, why don’t you wait here till I reach my house?”

“Are you crazy? My mum’ll have my head if she sees me through the kitchen window, and be assured she’ll be watching by now.”

Both started walking up the street with their hands in their pockets. The street was empty and only their steps and breaths broke the silence. Their shadows danced back and forth as they entered and exited the beams of light of the street lamps which bordered the street.

“Hey, how are you doing with History? Remember that the exam is next week and you need to pass it or you’ll get suspended of your club activities until the end of the year.”

He hid his face in the neck of his anorak and Sakura furrowed her brow.

“I’m really trying, but you know I’m not good at memory things…”

She sighed.

“I could help you, you know” he lifted his head and looked at her, his eyes wide. “I could make you some timelines and a summary with the most important points, and you can come home to review at the weekend.”

“Really?!” he threw his arms around her. “You’re the best!” he seemed to think about it for a moment. “After Hinata, of course.”

He let go with a big smile and kept on walking, his steps longer and with a small happy gait. However, he stopped just before reaching her door.

“But, what about your entrance exams, Sakura-chan? You start them in February, right?”

She smiled and punched him lightly on the arm.

“Don’t worry about that. I’m a very diligent girl and I’m ahead of my study plan.”

He seemed relieved.

“And? Are you going to tell me which university are you aiming at?”

Sakura frowned and marched to the gate.

“No. I don’t want you to laugh at me if I can’t enter in my first option.”

“Oh, come on. You know I wouldn’t do that” she shook her head stubbornly. “Okay, but it’s not as if you’re aiming for Todai, you know…”

She turned her face away to avoid him seeing the blush that warmed her face despite the cold.

“You can go now to see your match” she opened the door. “And if your mum asks, you walked me to the door.”

“Yes!” he turned around and ran down the street, waving at her.

Sakura moved her head, chuckling as she heard the loud noise his fence made when he slammed it shut, and then, she entered. She was quite often surprised by the sharp intuition her friend possessed, even though sometimes he said things without thinking. And he was right once again, as Todai University was one of the two options she had written on her career survey before the summer holidays. Years before, she had made the decision of being a doctor, when her mother had taken her by the hand, they had walked to a park and there, sitting on a bench, she had told her that one day soon she would not be with her anymore, that she had to be a good girl so her father would not worry, and that she had to become a beautiful strong woman who knew how to face what awaited her in life.

She breathed deeply and closed her eyes for a moment so she could ease the pain in her heart. She was trying hard to accomplish all that. She had learnt not to cry in front of her father, and to make him smile when he was sad. She had kept her lifelong friends and she had made some more along the way. She had hidden her hurt when her father had started talking about the woman he had met when he was in the department store while he was looking for a present for her sixteenth birthday, when she thought that he would love her mother till the end of his life… She had been a brilliant student, earning merits, getting the best marks in all the subjects, and she had chosen the best public university so his father had not had to pay the expensive fee of a private one. Though she had chosen Keio University as a second option at her homeroom teacher’s insistence, her only aim was Todai.

Just in front of the door of the house, she breathed deeply once again, trying to calm herself so her father would not guess any of her thoughts. After all, she had to be a good girl until the end.

TO BE CONTINUED

[lets-talk-appella]

i’m nobody’s but yours

Chapter 17/25 - Chloe

Summary: Beca is straight as an arrow. 100%, totally, completely straight. Except for one problem that 100%, totally, completely changes everything: Chloe Beale.

Title borrowed from Calum Scott’s “If Our Love Is Wrong.”

Word Count: 5.5k

Rating: M (for dark themes, homophobia, masturbation, and eventual smut in later chapters)

TW: Explicit depictions of homophobia, hate language, and accusations of assault. This may be a very difficult chapter to read.

AO3, FFN, and below.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes.”

“Like, completely, totally sure?”

“Yes, Bec. We’re already here.”

It’s not like they can really leave. Beca’s already parked in the driveway, and Chloe can spot Warren peeking out the window at them. Chloe waves at him, doing her best to ignore the nerves rolling in her stomach.

From the driver’s seat, Beca doesn’t wave. Chloe glances over and winces at the white-knuckle grip Beca has on the steering wheel.

“Bec…”

“I just…” Beca sighs and looks over, her eyes wide and sincere. “If you feel uncomfortable at any point, tell me – a signal, or – or something, and we’ll leave.”

It occurs to Chloe then that Beca isn’t worried about this dinner for her own sake.

“I will,” Chloe promises, watching Beca’s grip on the wheel relax. “Do we need a code word?”

She’s mostly joking, but Beca’s expression clears and she turns to Chloe seriously.

“Smart, I like that,” Beca says. She leans back into her seat, bringing a hand to her chin in thought. “Um. Okay. Let’s see. Snorkel?”

“What? In what context would that come up?”

“I – fine. Uh, Titanium?”

The corners of Chloe’s lips twitch upward. That’s a good one. But…

“Eh…” she shrugs. “It has to be something that we might actually say in normal conversation.”

“Oh, but – fine,” Beca says as she burrows further back into her seat and crosses her arms. The crease between her brows deepens, and Chloe can almost hear her mind whirring. She knows what Beca’s doing, but they can only put off the inevitable for so long, especially considering Warren has clearly already seen them.

“Pineapple?” Beca suggests suddenly.

Chloe twists against her seat belt, staring hard at Beca, searching for any sign she’s joking. Beca stares back, her expression neutral.

“Pineapple?” Chloe asks. She has to confirm.

“Yeah, it’s my favorite fruit,” Beca replies with complete sincerity.

Chloe raises her eyebrows.

“Good to know,” she mutters, mostly to herself.

“What?”

“Pineapple it is, then!” Chloe agrees, ignoring Beca’s question. “So that’s settled.”

“Right,” Beca says bracingly. She takes a deep, hopefully calming breath, then looks sideways at Chloe. “Let’s do this.”

Chloe reaches out to touch the back of Beca’s hand, trying to reassure her. “They said they’d try, Beca. That counts for something.”

Beca nods, her lips drawn into a thin line. She gives Chloe one last strained-looking smile, then unbuckles her seat belt and steps out of the car.

Chloe follows, only a second behind, and meets Beca at the front of the car to walk down the sidewalk together. Beca’s hands ball into fists at her sides, then relax, then ball up again in anxious rhythm. It makes Chloe uneasy, too, and her hand reflexively twitches toward Beca’s. She catches herself in time, though, deciding that it might be better to keep physical affection to a minimum.

They reach the plain front door, and Beca raises a fist to rap smartly on it. As soon as she’s done, her hand drops to envelop Chloe’s. Chloe glances over, surprised.

Beca’s already grinning crookedly at her. “You make me happy. If they don’t accept that, it’s their problem.”

Chloe’s heart melts, but before she can respond, the door swings open and Warren greets them with a large, slightly manic smile.

“Hi Beca, Chloe, thanks for coming out!” he greets enthusiastically.

Chloe flinches a little at the phrasing, and there’s an awkward silence. Warren’s eyes drop to their intertwined hands, and his expression freezes momentarily. His right eye twitches.

“Thank you for the invite,” Chloe manages as graciously as she can. If they’re going to fault her for anything, it won’t be her manners.

“Of course,” Warren beams, his attention diverted from their joined hands. “Come on inside.”

He stands aside, gesturing into the house. Beca takes the lead, stepping over the threshold with one final glance at Chloe, who smiles in a way she hopes is reassuring. Beca drops her hand and removes her shoes in the entryway, so Chloe mimics her. Once her shoes are off, Chloe closes the door behind her, ignoring the trapped feeling that suddenly constricts her chest.

Sheila isn’t there to greet them, but Chloe can hear a clattering of pots and pans from deeper within the house.

“So, come on in to the living room,” Warren leads the way deeper into the house. “Sheila’s just got dinner cooking.”

Beca pulls a face that Warren, thankfully, doesn’t see. “No takeout?”

“No, she wanted to make this special, Beca.”

Beca glances at Chloe, giving her a significant look as they enter the main sitting room. “Don’t eat until you see Sheila take the first bite,” she warns in an undertone.

Chloe shushes her with a roll of her eyes.

Warren sits down heavily on an armchair, waving at the adjacent couch to indicate that they should join him. The television is already on, playing Die Hard, but Warren turns the volume down while they settle. Beca plops herself in the corner of the couch, and Chloe sits next to her, careful to keep a sizeable gap between them. Beca glances at her but doesn’t say anything.

On the TV, Bruce Willis stares seriously at the camera.

“So…” Beca’s dad clears his throat and shifts in the armchair. “How’re things going, then?

“The usual,” Beca replies, her eyes on the TV.

“Yeah, good,” Chloe says to Warren, desperate to hold some kind of conversation, even if it’s mundane.

“Good, good. Both applying for jobs?”

Chloe nods, seeing Beca do the same out of the corner of her eye.

The sound of clattering pans gets louder from within the house. Beca tenses beside her.

“Yeah, Beca’s told me a lot about her own job search,” Warren says, glancing between them and the TV. “What about yours, Chloe?”

“Um, not bad,” Chloe starts, and tells him about applying for various animal medicine internships around the country. As she talks, she feels Beca’s eyes on the side of her face.

“Interesting, interesting,” Warren muses once she’s finished. “I thought you’d wanted to be a teacher?”

“I thought vet school would be more my speed.”

Warren nods sagely, falling silent. This time when his eyes drift to the TV, they stay there.

The distinct sound of a refrigerator door opening, and of someone rifling around inside, reaches Chloe’s ears. She glances at Beca, who’s already looking at her.

“Maybe I should offer –”

“No. She’s fine,” Beca says sharply.

Warren glances over, frowning lightly.

“So, what cities are you looking into again?” he asks, though Chloe had already told him when she’d been talking about the internships.

“Um, New York, Nashville –”

This time, there’s a huge, clattering bang from within the house, as if Sheila had dropped a cookie sheet. Beca starts at the sound, glaring in the direction of the kitchen.

“You know what, I’m going to offer to help,” Chloe says, rising from the couch.

“Chlo –”

“It’s fine,” she says, hoping she seems more confident than she feels.

“Let her go, Beca,” Warren says tiredly.

Beca’s eyes, suddenly harsh, lock onto him.

Chloe leaves them there, not wanting to see that argument, and heads toward the commotion. She follows the sound to the large kitchen, where Sheila stands at the stove with her back to her, preparing something with tomato sauce.

It’s hard for Chloe to imagine that this is the woman who’d asked if Beca was molested.

***************

“So, are you seeing anyone?” Chloe’s mom, Cheryl, asks before taking a sip from her hot chocolate.

“Mom,” Chloe sighs affectionately, her eyes darting to where her dad and brother play Mario Kart in the other room. “You know I’m not. I’m gonna focus on school.”

Grinning mischievously, Cheryl leans forward and replies, “I know that’s what you said after Tom, but honey, it’s been six months. That’s a long time for you.”

Chloe glances down at her own hot chocolate resting on the table in front of her. Soft Christmas music floats over the kitchen, filling the brief silence between her and her mom.

“What does that say about me?” Chloe finally asks, looking up with a small smile.

Cheryl’s eyebrows lift. “Nothing, Chloe, nothing! You’re not – look, you just have a lot of love to give, and normally you don’t hold back for this long.”

“I know,” Chloe smiles, reaching to brush her fingers over the back of her mom’s hand. “It’s just that with the new Bellas and – and, well, with Aubrey being so stressed after last year, there’s not really time to…” she trails off, caught under Cheryl’s knowing look.

“Who are they?” Cheryl asks with another sip from her mug.

Chloe doesn’t quite manage to keep the grin off her face as she replies grudgingly, “Fine. There is this… one girl. She’s a new Bella.”

“What’s her name?”

“Beca,” Chloe replies, her smile widening further. “Beca Mitchell.”

“That’s a nice name.”

Chloe nods. “It suits her.”

“She’s nice?” Cheryl asks playfully, digging a bit further.

“She is, yeah,” Chloe says, stirring her hot chocolate for something to do with her hands. “She’s quiet, a little… hard to get to know? But I can tell she’s kind. And really pretty. I think she feels more than she lets on, too.”

“Mmm, the best people feel the most,” Cheryl says with a wink. “You always did.”

“Yeah, well, that’s great and all, but there’s a problem,” Chloe replies, her mood darkening. “I’m pretty sure she’s straight, and she hangs out with some guy a lot. A Treble.”

Cheryl sits back in her chair, looking at Chloe thoughtfully. In the other room, the game – a gift Chris had unwrapped that morning – grows louder.

“Is she the one you’re always daydreaming about?” Cheryl asks after a moment.

“Uh…” Chloe blinks, again finding herself caught; her mom knows her too well.

“Honey, you’ve been staring off into space all break so far, and it was the same over Thanksgiving. I know you’re thinking about someone special. Is it her?”

“It’s – yeah,” Chloe admits with an embarrassed huff. “I guess I think about her a lot.”

Cheryl smiles and rises from the table, taking her hot chocolate with her. “Well, she sounds pretty special, straight or not. And you never know, maybe one day…” she trails off, letting the sentence hang. “Don’t give up on the special ones,” she says, then gestures to the sitting room. “Wanna join Chris and your dad?”

Grateful, and feeling marginally better, Chloe stands from the table as well. “Yeah, let’s do it. And thanks,” she adds.

“Anytime, honey,” Cheryl says, drawing Chloe in for a quick, one-armed hug and peck on the top of her head. “And keep me posted.”

“I will,” Chloe promises. “But first, I’m gonna beat all of you on Rainbow Road.”

“In your dreams!” Chris calls out as Chloe and Cheryl walk into the sitting room to play the game.

***************

Not wanting to startle Sheila, Chloe makes her next steps into the kitchen heavier than she normally would. “Hi, Sheila,” she greets when Sheila twists around. “How are you?”

“Oh, good, Chloe, you?” Sheila replies with a thin-lipped smile.

It’s not much, but it still encourages Chloe to move further into the kitchen. She reminds herself that she’s met Sheila before, and they’ve always gotten along well.

“Can I help with dinner at all?” she asks, standing at the counter next to Sheila.

Sheila looks up in surprise, taking a step to the side and away from Chloe. “Oh,” she says, “that’s – that’s nice of you, thank you. It’s nothing fancy, just a pasta bake, some veggies.”

Chloe looks down at the large ceramic bowl set out on the counter in front of them, into which Sheila has poured cooked pasta, mushrooms, onions, and the tomato sauce.

“Okay, is there something you’d like me to do?”

“Uh –” Sheila looks around the kitchen, not quite meeting Chloe’s eyes. “Would you like to chop some veggies and spin the salads while I pop the pasta in the oven?”

“For sure,” Chloe agrees amicably, moving over to give herself more counter space.

Sheila goes to the fridge, pulling out carrots and celery, along with lettuce, cherry tomatoes, and some cucumber for a salad. She sets the produce on the counter in front of Chloe without a word, then pulls out a chopping board out and a knife, placing them on the counter as well.

“Um, thanks,” Chloe says, reaching for the board and knife to move it in front of her. Sheila doesn’t reply, and still won’t quite look her in the eyes.

Chloe clenches her jaw and starts cutting up the carrots and celery. She’s very aware of the way Sheila stands next to her at the counter, posture ramrod straight and keeping a careful distance between them. They work in silence, Sheila adding cheese to the top of the pasta and Chloe continuing to chop until she has a healthy pile of veggies in front of her. She looks around, spotting a tray waiting on the counter, a little beyond where Sheila works. She reaches for it, having to stretch in front of Sheila.

Even as she reaches, Sheila backs away, recoiling from her. Chloe doesn’t allow herself to react, only grabs the tray and starts transferring the cut-up vegetables to it. She tells herself she’s imagining things, surely, but then Sheila inches farther away, nudging the salad spinner toward her so they never have to touch.

The muscles in Chloe’s back tense.

Sheila turns, putting the pasta into the oven and starting a timer for seven minutes. As she does, Chloe loads the lettuce and tomatoes into the salad spinner and moves to the sink. She runs water into the spinner and starts the it, while behind her, Sheila takes her place at the chopping block. A drawer opens, and Chloe risks a glance back; Sheila has pulled out a different knife to slice the cucumber, choosing to dirty another dish rather than touch something Chloe used.

Chloe spins the salad. She swallows, hard, and counts to ten silently.

“So…” Sheila starts, her voice mild. “You and Beca… that’s pretty serious?”

Chloe hesitates, unsure how to respond. She keeps her back to Sheila, using the salad spinner as an excuse. Eventually, she decides that honesty, while probably not what Sheila wants to hear, is the best policy.

“Yeah, it is. I love her.”

The knife, chopping against the cutting board, pauses.

“She – she said something similar.”

Despite the chill in Sheila’s voice, a soft glow fills Chloe’s chest at that; Beca loves her, and she loves Beca.

“You know, dear…” Sheila continues, her voice turning falsely sweet. “At such a young age… it’s easy to be confused about what love is.”

Chloe’s hands twitch against the salad spinner. She grips it more tightly.

“It’s easy to be confused about a lot, actually,” Sheila adds.

Chloe turns, salad in hand, and returns to the counter. She and Sheila stand side-by-side, both pretending to be focused on the salad.

“We’re not confused,” Chloe says, struggling to keep her tone neutral as she divides the lettuce and tomatoes into four separate bowls.

“Well. You might not be.”

“What?”

“I’m just saying, before this summer, Beca never showed a – well, a preference for that... lifestyle.”

Chloe remains silent. She doesn’t know what to say.

“It just makes me wonder how influential you may have been in that decision.”

“It’s not a decision,” Chloe blurts, hearing the annoyance in her own voice.

“It seems like it is,” Sheila says, now adding cucumber slices to each of the salads. “She made the decision to end a long-term with a good, respectable boy and start one with... you.”

“Beca –”

“She was going to live with him, you know.”

“Yeah, I – I know.” Chloe knows perfectly well.

“And then she just up and changed her mind, huh?”

“Well, I mean –”

Sheila slams her hands down onto the counter, startling Chloe and making the salad bowls rattle. “Did you ask her to break up with Jesse?”

Chloe flinches away. “N-No, I –”

“What’s going on?”

Beca appears in the doorway to the kitchen, lips thin and eyes like thunder.

The tension leaves Chloe’s body instantly. Beca glances at her, her gaze softening as Chloe meets her eyes: I’m okay. It’s okay.

“Chloe’s been helping with dinner,” Sheila replies swiftly. “Just some girl talk.”

Beca moves around the counter, sliding herself between Chloe and Sheila so that her back is to Chloe. She extends a hand behind herself briefly, and Chloe brushes their fingers together, trying to reassure her.

“About my ex-boyfriend?” Beca’s voice is low and dangerous.

“It’s okay,” Chloe whispers, but it’s like Beca doesn’t even hear her.

Sheila waves a hand with a fake, simpering laugh. “Oh, well, we were just –”

“Sheila, if you can’t manage to –”

The oven buzzer goes off loudly, interrupting Beca and startling them all.

“Dinner!” Warren calls out, walking into the kitchen, his expression anxious as he takes in the tension in the room. “Great timing! I’m, uh, starving.”

Sheila bustles to the oven, pulling a pair of oven mitts from the drawer next to it. As she goes, Beca turns to Chloe and leans in close under pretext of examining the salads.

“Is there any fruit with dinner?” she asks, her voice laced with meaning.

Chloe knows what she’s asking. They could leave now, claim some Bella emergency, or even just leave without bothering to make an excuse. For a second, she’s tempted. It would be easy to walk away now and leave Sheila’s ridiculous claims drifting in the dust behind them. But this is Beca’s family. Doing that might damage her relationship with them forever. And, besides, the worst of it must be over; now that Beca and Warren are there, surely Sheila will be civil.

And anyway, wouldn’t leaving just enforce Sheila’s false belief in some influence Chloe supposedly has over Beca?

Chloe shakes her head, refusing to use their code word. Beca’s face turns stony, her eyes searching Chloe’s carefully.

“Just a salad, I’m afraid,” Sheila replies, carrying the pasta bake to the already-set table. “Didn’t think of fruit.”

“Right,” Beca says faintly, reaching to grab two of the salad bowls. “I was just wondering about… never mind.”

Chloe takes the other two bowls, relieved that Beca had decided to trust her judgment and at least wait through dinner.

She and Beca carry the salads over while Warren grabs salad dressing and a bottle of red wine to drink with dinner. Chloe’s surprised; he’s really trying to make this dinner special. Or, maybe he just drinks a lot.

She wouldn’t blame him.

The dining table is long and rectangular, with two chairs on the sides and one on each end. Beca takes a chair on the far side directly across from Sheila. Chloe debates sitting next to Sheila – maybe the farther from Beca, the better – but then Beca’s eyes meet hers and she dismisses the thought, moving next to Beca so Warren can take his place beside his wife.

Sheila dishes out the pasta while everyone starts on their salads; Beca stares at hers in repulsion before pouring copious amounts of salad dressing over it. Nobody speaks, the crunching of salad alone breaking the silence.

Beside her, Beca fidgets and stares fixedly at her plate, her posture almost as pristine as Aubrey’s. Tension rolls from her, making Chloe’s hand twitch, aching to reach out and comfort her. She has to refrain from her natural impulse to place her hand on Beca’s thigh, or to move her chair closer to Beca’s.

Putting her now-empty salad bowl aside, Chloe digs her fork into some of the pasta Sheila had placed onto her plate. She tries not to let it bother her that she definitely received a smaller portion than everyone else at the table and takes a few bites of it without comment.

“This is very good,” she says politely, though it actually tastes somewhat like cardboard.

“Thank you,” Sheila replies stiffly, taking a generous sip of the wine Warren had divided between them all.

For another several minutes, all that can be heard is the sound of forks against plates. Chloe kind of wishes Beca would say something, but judging by the way she’s still glaring down at her plate, it might be best for her to remain silent.

A minute later, Warren takes a breath and says, “So, uh… how’s it going with the Bellas?”

Beca looks up for the first time since dinner started. “Emily’s taking over. I told you that,” she says.

“That’s a big responsibility for one person,” Warren replies, ignoring Beca’s clipped tone. “Is she going to be able to handle that?”

Chloe nods and answers, “We have faith in her. She’s tough.”

Beca glances over at her, posture relaxing slightly. “Yeah, that kid knows what she’s doing. Way more than I did when I started.”

“Yes, you’ve certainly come a long way,” Warren agrees, smiling warmly at Beca.

Chloe also smiles, thinking of the moody “alt-girl” who’d once thought a cappella was lame.

“Hasn’t she come a long way?” Warren twists in his chair to ask Sheila pointedly. Chloe feels her own smile drop.

“Hm?” Sheila glances up at him, then over at Beca. “Oh, yes, very proud. The performances, they were quite good.”

“I always showed them to her on my phone,” Warren explains, as if that would make up for Sheila not attending even one of their performances in a four-year span. “I recorded them.”

“The two of them you went to?” Beca asks, stabbing a noodle with her fork.

Chloe shifts in her chair, dropping her eyes back to her own plate. Both her parents had been at every Nationals performance for each of the six years she’d competed, plus at several of their other performances. They’d recorded each and every one.

Chloe sets aside her fork, suddenly not very hungry.

“What are the other Bellas doing now?” Warren asks after a pregnant pause.

“Um,” Beca takes a deep breath, maybe regretting her outburst. “Stacie is going into… Naval Engineering? Something? Um, Lilly is gonna… actually, I don’t know. Something creepy. Aubrey’s still doing the lodge thing.”

“Corporate camp counselor,” Chloe corrects, then warms under Sheila’s stare.

“Right, that,” Beca gestures vaguely, “Let’s see. Flo will… hopefully not be deported. Jessica and Ashley… um. Who knows?”

“You seem very vague on the lives of your friends,” Sheila comments with a sip of wine. “Almost as if they’re being pushed to the side to accommodate someone else lately.”

“Woah, hey –”

“It’s just because all our plans are vague right now,” Chloe jumps in quickly. “We do know Amy’s getting engaged… possibly. And Cynthia Rose is for sure getting married.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Warren says. “Have you met the fiancé? Do you like him?”

Chloe opens her mouth to correct him politely, but before she can, Beca stiffens.

“He’s a she,” Beca says sharply. “And she’s amazing.”

Sheila makes some sort of derisive laugh disguised as a cough, then attempts to hide her reaction behind another swig of wine. Her glass is mostly empty already, and she reaches for the bottle to replenish it. When Warren looks at her, she waves him off dismissively.

“And then there’s you two,” Warren deflects, turning back to Beca and Chloe.

Despite already having described their future plans in detail, Chloe nods, happy to change the subject. “Yeah, we’re job hunting.”

Sheila looks up at the “we,” her eyes narrowed. Chloe winces internally at the slip-up, small as it was.

“All over, by the sounds of it,” Warren says proudly.

“Still no LA?” Sheila asks Beca suddenly.

Beca glowers back at her and doesn’t reply.

“I thought you always wanted LA.”

“I did, but –”

“Let me guess. Something changed that plan.”

Beca sighs, putting down her fork. “There are music production studios across the country.”

“The best are in LA. I don’t understand why you suddenly don’t want to go there.”

“I don’t like the weather,” Beca quips.

“Sunny and beautiful?”

“There are earthquakes.”

“They’re rare. You’d be fine.”

Beca rolls her eyes and leans forward. “You haven’t cared about my plans for the last, oh, five years. Why start now?”

“Beca –” Warren tries.

Sheila cuts over him. “I want to make sure you’re making the right decisions, not ones planted into your brain,” she says, eyes flicking in Chloe’s direction.

“Oh my god, that’s not –”

“This pasta really is great, Sheila,” Chloe says loudly, desperate to deflect. “Can I have the recipe?”

No one even glances at her. Chloe’s face burns, though whether from shame or anger, she isn’t sure.

“I’m assuming the cities you’re applying in have been influenced by something? Some one?” Sheila asks nastily, leaving no question as to what she believes that influence is.

“What?” Beca gasps. “That is not –”

Sheila turns to Chloe abruptly, her eyes vindictive. “And where are you planning on going?”

“Oh, um –”

“No, no, let me guess. New York? Chicago? Nashville?”

Chloe hesitates. She can’t lie; she shouldn’t have to.

“I knew it!” Sheila cries and throws her hands up, victorious. She turns on Beca, ranting, “You’re trailing along after her, letting this – this phase you’re in dictate the rest of your life!”

Chloe shrinks back into her chair, trying to make herself smaller.

“It’s not a phase! I lo–”

“Oh, you love her, I know! How sweet!” Sheila laughs, a cold, cruel sound that makes Chloe’s skin crawl. “Guess what, Beca? That’s a load of shit. You can’t possibly be in love with –”

“Chloe, would you like more to drink?” Warren asks loudly.

“Oh, like that’ll make anything better!” Beca rounds on him. “Why don’t you tell your homophobic wife to –”

“How exactly is this going to work?” Sheila interrupts snidely.

“Hey –”

“You’ll try to make it long distance?”

“We –”

“Or will you work in the same city?”

“That’s –”

“Living together?”

“It’s none of your business! Shut up!” Beca explodes, slamming her hands on the table and rising from her chair so abruptly it falls backward with a thunderous bang.

Chloe doesn’t know what to do. She sits, rooted into her chair, with angry tears prickling her eyes.

The idea that anyone could hate her so much for loving their child is utterly appalling.

Chloe finally realizes that this whole idea had been foolish. It’s her fault they’re there in the first place, and they need to leave, now.

Without thinking, Chloe twists in her chair, putting one hand over Beca’s on the table and one hand on her lower back. Beca looks down at her, eyes wide and scared.

Chloe starts, “Babe, please –”

“Babe?” Sheila screeches, going ballistic. “Babe!”

Warren puts a hand on her arm. “Sheila, it’s not –”

“No, Warren! I’ve seen enough!” Sheila yells, throwing his hand off and pointing directly at Chloe’s face. “This whore has corrupted your daughter, infecting her with the same, twisted mental illness so she can have her way with her with utter abandon, using her body in unnatural ways for her own sick pleasure –”

“SHUT UP!” Beca roars, so loudly that Chloe flinches away. “Just shut the fuck up!”

For the first time ever, Chloe is scared by Beca’s anger. Not scared of it – Beca would never hurt her – but scared by it, because she’s never seen Beca like this, eyes narrowed and towering over the table, quivering with rage.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Beca hisses. “How dare you say that?”

“Beca, please –”

She rounds on Warren, sparks flying from her eyes.

“Did you hear what she said?”

“I’m only speaking the truth,” Sheila insists, downing the remaining wine in a single gulp.

With a wordless screech of rage, Beca snarls, “By calling my girlfriend a whore? By accusing Chloe of – of –”

Chloe flinches at Beca’s unspoken words. Sheila stares at her triumphantly, the full meaning behind her words written across her face, reaching into Chloe’s soul and dragging out her worst fear, on display for everyone to see.

Chloe Beale, you are a predator.

Warren leans forward, one hand outstretched cautiously. “Beca, we are your family –”

“Do not,” Beca yells, “pull that bullshit on me! You’ve known Chloe for years so to even imply that she’s taking advantage –”

Sheila snorts, remaining calm and cool in her chair. “She’s making you act in ways that you –”

“Oh, fuck off! You don’t know anything about –”

“Beca, please,” Chloe whispers.

“– what we’ve been through to get here, so you can take your prejudiced, bigoted, backward –”

“Beca, stop,” Chloe begs, again grabbing Beca’s hand to get her attention, “Don’t – not over this, please – let’s just go.”

Beca’s eyes snap to her, all fury and pain, but as Chloe looks at her, Beca seems to return to herself.

“Chloe, I –” she starts, then swallows, her voice soft and hoarse. “We’re leaving.”

“I – okay,” Chloe rises from the chair instantly, trying hard not to look at Sheila, who she knows is watching them with intense satisfaction.

Warren rises from the table, distressed.

“Beca, Chloe, I’m – wait, please,” he reaches out to Chloe, as if to grasp her arm.

“Don’t touch her!” Beca spits, moving between them.

He retracts his hand as if stung, his eyes wide and – Chloe spots with a jolt to her stomach – watery. Behind him, still seated at the table, Sheila takes a bite of her pasta, looking every bit as though this outcome is exactly what she’d hoped for.

“I’m done with this, and until you figure it out, I’m done with you, too,” Beca says, her own eyes starting to swim.

Warren jerks back, mouth opening in surprise, and Chloe turns away sharply; she can’t bear to look at him anymore.

Instead, she follows Beca to the entryway. Her head is light, floaty, and she feels every single heartbeat pounding in her chest. She has to reach out a hand to the wall, steadying herself, as she slides her shoes on.

In front of her, Beca’s still trembling as she slams her feet into her shoes. When she looks up, a couple of tears roll down her face but she’s quick to swipe them away with the back of her hand.

“Ready?” she manages, and Chloe nods wordlessly.

Beca goes to the front door, flinging it open with a bang as it ricochets against the wall. Chloe hears quick footsteps and turns; Warren is right behind them, looking scared.

“Let me know when you get home,” he whispers to her frantically. “And I’m sorry.”

Chloe doesn’t know what to do; she can’t say it’s okay, because nothing has ever been less okay.

“Chloe!”

Beca calls to her, and with one last grimace at Warren, Chloe joins her at the front door. Beca grabs her hand, and then they’re moving, Beca practically dragging her from the house, leaving the door gaping wide behind them.

They half-jog to the car, Beca only releasing Chloe’s hand when they’ve reached it. Beca rounds the front of the car, throwing herself into the driver’s seat. Chloe fumbles with the door handle, having to try three times until she manages to get it open so she can slide into the passenger seat.

Behind the wheel, Beca’s fumbling with the keys, swearing and fuming, as she tries to get them into the ignition.

“Beca, stop,” Chloe says, reaching out to grab Beca’s wrist.

“We have to –”

“They’re not following, and you’re not driving like this,” Chloe says, surprised at how steady her voice comes out even though she’s shaking almost as badly as Beca.

“I’m fine.”

“You absolutely are not. Breathe, Bec, breathe, and look at me for a second.”

Beca doesn’t move.

“Beca, please, look at me.”

When she finally does, Chloe’s horrified at the pain and fear shining at her from Beca’s eyes. Beca’s crying properly now, tears slipping down her cheeks without restraint.

Chloe glances at the house; no one is actually following them, but she wouldn’t be surprised if Warren was watching them from the front window again.

“Give me the keys,” Chloe pleads, keeping her voice low and gentle. “Please, Bec.”

For a scary second, she doesn’t think Beca’s going to do it. But then, her wrist twists in Chloe’s grip until she’s holding the keys in her open palm, offering them to Chloe.

“Okay,” Chloe exhales. “Okay. I’ll drive.”

Beca nods, pushing her hands into her hair. “Not home,” she chokes out, her voice thick.

“What?”

“I can’t – the Bellas – not home.”

“Okay,” Chloe says again, taken aback but thinking rapidly. “I’ll find a – a hotel or something.”

Beca nods and takes a breath, then reopens her door and steps out so Chloe can take her place behind the wheel.

[stay--satan]

But he’s all mine and I’ll love him - Older!DAMIAN WAYNE X READER

Can you do prompts 6 and 11 with Damian, please? Also I’m really excited for upcoming work! Good luck :) - 6. “Are you even happy?” - 11. “Am I even enough?”

hey hey i love your wally piece and i was wondering if you could do 23 with either dick or damian? thanks! - 23. “We’re not Rose and Jack, we’re more like fucking Sid and fucking Nancy”

I think I took too deep this one, might be the saddest thing on earth

WARNING: ANGST, TOXIC RELATIONSHIP, DAMIAN IS 21 ON THIS ONE.

The team had comeback from a mission that left Y/N, Raven and Aqualad protecting the tower while Robin, Beast Boy, Starfire and Kid Flash left for a three months undercover mission. Y/N is the team's hacker and watcher, taking control over the fights from the outside while both of them kept the city safe. But again, the three of them never were too much of talking so now with the room crowded again with a welcome reunion after months in silence it was difficult. She didn't know many details about the undercover, but Wally said it was one of the roughest they ever had been. Being someone else for months was dangerous enough to change the real person from the inside. Though he seemed okay, she saw Kori flinch a bit when they jumped to hug her and Beast was definitly faking his smile as he was surrounded by his friends. And of course, there was Damian.

Y/N felt her heart stop for a minute as he walks in the room with his bag. The tall boy is tired and more pale than she remembered. He doesn't even glance a look at her direction, he just walks straight to the elevator going to his room. Y/N feels the pity look of her friends over her and a hand over her shoulder "Don't be mad with him... I guess he and Kory had the most intense part."

Two days has gone by and Damian hasn't left his room. She tries to see him over the security camera in his room but he had put a 'DON'T DISTURB' stick over it. She hears every now and then one of her teamates knocking on his door and placing the food there. Mostly of the times she passed through the hall and the food was still there after hours. Y/N thinks about how many times she thought about knocking there to check on him, or just using her spare key and holding him without telling nothing. But she knew Damian better and he would be gone of the room before she was in the middle of the hallway. So she decides to talk to Kory who was still a bit off from herself, but was open to talk about it.

"You don't have to if it's..." "It's okay Y/N..." The orange woman gives a warm smile to her "I need to snap out of it" Starfire, the woman who Y/N admired for her entire life, was now in front of her looking so fragile like a human being. "We got separated before we landed. It would seem to suspicious if 5 people showed up in the city at the same day. We're suposed to look for this man, Hugo. He controlled H.I.V.E after Grant Wilson's death. But we wanted to get to know everyone around him and all his tatics before we could come up with something over them, I mean, H.I.V.E hasn't moved in years so why start while we are away?" she sighes adjusting her posture "We used this mission also to test our undercover watch, it made us look like someone else. So Wally and Beast went to downtown and me and Damian to near the docks where we believed it would be the criminal's spot. We found a few suspects on our first week, but you know how man are... They don't trust you unless they have something in return." Kori looked to her hands "They locked me and when I woke up, I saw myself again as a slave." her voice is rough, Y/N wanted to hug her but she knew there wasn't nobody like Y/N who could listen to her for this time. It's a difficult thing to tell the others and if she ever mentioned to Grayson... God there wouldn't be a a living soul in that city "I menaged to keep myself strong knowing that if anyone crossed a line with me I could burn that place down, but I coudn't help but think about the other girls you know? I know there is so much pain in this world, I just never thought I would see right in front of me and not being able to do anything for months you know?" Y/N's heart was broken. She rushs to hug her friend "Kori, you're amazing. Every single day that you're here it's the day I am proud of you. After everything you've been through I look at you and see the most strong woman I know. We can't save everyone from this, but you did the best you could" The oldest gives a corner smile to the girl "Well, I did break everyone's legs on our last day. Sent that girls back home and I feel good. I really do. But I need time" "Of course..." you grin letting her go from your embrace "About Damian... He was in South from where I was. From what I heard he was the biggest dealer from there, building his way up. Look Y/N, I don't know what he did... But it broke him. He didn't said a word the entire way over." You nodded to her finally knowing what to do.

Y/N opens the door seeing her long-term boyfriend sleeping. She walks over him carefully sitting across from bed messing his hair. The green eyes wide open in shock grabbing her hand roughly and she gaps "Hey, birdboy. It's me..." she whispers trying to calm him down. Damian finally has a clear vision of her and sits straight in the bed "What time is it?" shaking his head and rubbing his eyes "Late. I'm sorry I had to see you" "Yeah. Sorry I..." "No need" she smiles looking at his face. His eyes were not meeting hers by any point and she notices some new scars over his body. "You need some time" He finally looks at her, but his eyes are different. They have this guilt, angry and arrogance that she never saw before. At least not to her. Damian grunts "Time?" he leaves the bed letting her sit alone. She follows him with her eyes and he goes to the bottle of whiskey that now is part of his room. This wasn't there the last time she visited him, she thought. She also never saw Damian as a drinking type like Jason or Bruce. He puts over a glass to him turning his back to her "Time is what no one have." "I talked to Kori..." the girl's voice is a little louder now to make sure he was listening "She is taking hers and I suggest you do the same" "I am fine, Beloved." he turns to her with the glass on his hand. The nickname he used to call her now don't seem that familiar "Do you think some low key idiots would be able to break me?" he makes his way to her. Y/N feels deep in her core a mix of new feelings inside of her. She was scared for whatever was taking over him but at the same time, the way he looks at her was so much more intense than he ever did. It was like a hungry animal and she was his prey. Pulling her up by her wrists that would definetly leave some marks, he kisses her hard gripping her by the hips. His breath is heavy during the kiss taking over her and his touch is more aggressive. He pushes Y/N to the bed again ripping her blouse apart leaving bites all over her body "Damian... Wait I didn't came... Oh god" she tries to protest but he kiss that sweet spot over her neck while his fingers where now working under her panties before she could protest. She missed him, it's been too long. So she just let go for this time only, she could talk to him later.

Weeks goes by and Damian becomes more and more possesive over her. They barely leave the room and when they eventually do, Damian is gone for hours before return and drag Y/N to another night where they kept going until morning. Now after starring the ceiling while Damian is asleep on her arms for a few hours, she stands up putting her boyfriend's sweater to cover her bruises (she didn't had the exactly time to heal) but she didn't mind. Y/N loved that man since she was 14 and now, six years later, she feels like she needed him more than food or air. Stepping out carefully in the kitchen, she gasps when she notices Kori in the kitchen staring at her "Jesus Koriand'r!" Y/N closes her eyes putting her hands on her chest "You scared me!" "You look like a dead corpse." Oh yes, the Tamaran's ability to tell you the hard truth. Y/N doesn't seem impress though, ignoring her and going to the fridge. As she bends over to grab something, Kori's eyes wide over the purple and red marks on her tights. She rushes to the youngest desperate grabbing her by the shoulders "Y/N for your's sake look at you!" "What's wrong with you" Y/N pushes her off the embrace "What... What he's doing to you..." "Don't you dare imply that! What I do it's none of your business" "How can it not? You're my best friend" the red head looks at her almost tearing up "He's sick, Y/N! He's not Damian anymore and you're just feeding on him" "I'm doing that because I love him. I'm giving him time to tell me whatever happened" "Time? I barely see you and in weeks you look more skinny and pale than ever before." Y/N looks to her feet on that. She was right. Y/N had see herself in the mirror yesterday and honestly she couldn't recognize herself anymore. Her deep green hair is now a pale and dehydrated, her lips cut from all the love bites and her eyes so deep dark that looked like two black holes. "I know you love him and you think you're doing the right thing for whatever is you two are doing but... Are you even happy?" The question hits Y/N more surprisingly than she expected.

Entering in the room Y/N sees Damian Wayne laying on the bed with his glass off whisky in his hands. He doesn't look at her but he feels her eyes on him burning. Closing the door behind her she doesn't move for a whole minute only analyzing the man she loved. "Am I even enough?" Her question comes out more like a sigh. He stops the drinking slowly turning his deep dark eyes to her "What are you talking about?" "Why don't you talk to me?" Damian's face is unreadable. He stands his hand up so she could walk towards him and hold it. He kisses her knuckles and looks at her through his lashes "I couldn't live without you, Y/N L/N." he says raspy and passionate. And then it finally hits her. The mess that was made. Her man, her beautiful boy with such lost eyes. The room where they had so many memories smelling like old sex and alcohool and had not see the daylight for weeks. His on going departure for hours doing god knows what and keeping her locked to himself. She pushes her hands out of his quickly leaning against the wall with wide open eyes. She starts to shake her head and the man stands up going in her direction "STAY AWAY FROM ME" Y/N yells leaning more closer to the wall before he reached her. Damian stops looking at her confused "Look at you, Damian! Look at us, this room... We're not Jack and Rose, we're Sid and fucking Nancy." she starts to sob with hands on her face "What happened Damian? Wha-what happened?" she knees to the floor giving up her strengths between loud sobs. Damian wakes up like it was a mess dream. He sees his girl in pieces on his floor, broken in a way he never saw anyone. Actually, he did saw it. Himself. About a month ago in a cheap room where he was. Crying wildly on the floor, alone, screaming and punching the walls.

"I killed someone." His voice comes out in a breath. Y/N controlled her sobs and slowly put her head up facing him with while he was out of breath. Remembering every single detail of that night. "I-I didn't know. They put a knife in my hand challenging me and I thought I could get out of it. But... They were so out of themselfs that-" he stops to kneel on the floor across from her closing his eyes "The guy ran, held my hand into the knife" he looks at his own hands like it was still there "and did it before I could have a chance." Y/N now stares at him bursting in tears. "I try, I swear I tried to save him. Led him to a hospital but nothing worked and... I snapped out of it." He barely can finish his sentence before sobbing loudly than he ever did before. She rushes over him holding him tight over the shoulders, kissing his head repeatedly while he shouts 'I'm Sorry' over and over again. She knew it wasn't only for her, but also his family. Wally rushes over the room scared of what was happening, but before the boy on her embrace notices, she nodds to him to leave. She held him for hours while he struggles for hours under her arms. "My love? Love, look at me" she says holding his head near her's "You. Are. Not. Guilty. Okay? It'll pass." "I've- I've been horrible to you, look what I did to you!" he's crying had not stopped for a single moment. It's getting worse everytime he remembered something "Love, look at me LOOK AT ME" shaking him by the shoulders "You'll be okay. I'll forgive you." she gives away a little smile to him "Bruce and I will forgive you, but Damian, darling you need to talk to us okay?" He looks at her and finally control his crying nodding his head.

Telling Bruce was the hardest day of their life. The moment the man entered you led him to Damian's room, you saw shock and despair on his eyes for the first time. He sees his boy sitting on the bed completely different and it's like he already knew. Bruce hold his son in his arm kissing his head while the other Wayne embrace him tightly Damian was still scared to touch you, his psychiatrist said that what he did to you was to suppress the pain and keep his undercover on even after the mission. He's been going to therapy regularly and moved back to the manor where you two slept in separated rooms. Even though every night you held him in your arms until he falled asleep, he still insisted for you to leave after that. It was important for you too. Y/N's support was what gave Damian Wayne strength. He couldn't leave a day without telling sorry for the rest of his life and after almost a year of treatment, both of them felt trusty enough to love each other.

"Thank you" he whispers stroking her head on his embrace after calming down "For what?" she puts her hands over his chest "Where do you want me to start?" a chuckle leave her lips and he smiles over the sweet sound "I love you baby boy" lifting her head to meet his eyes, Y/N says with a deep voice "You might think that you're broke and hurt inside but you're all mine and I love you." she smiles as he gazes her eyes over him "I'll love you baby boy. No matter what."

[ncvat]

EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO NOW ABOUT NOVA ELIZABETH TAYLOR !!

UNDER THE CUT YOU WILL FIND COUNTLESS CHARACTER TRAITS, FACTS AND STATS ABOUT NOVA. 

*just added

**edited/changed

name: nova elizabeth taylor

nickname(s): just nova, no nicknames.

name significance/meaning: in portugeuse and latin the word nova is translated as ‘new’. but in the english dictionary the word it used to describe a star showing a sudden large increase in brightness and then slowly returning to its original state over a few months.

gender: cisfemale

age: twenty one

birthday: september 28th 1998

zodiac sign: virgo

birthplace: brentwood

ethnicity: white

nationality: american

skin tone: pale

eye color: brown

natural hair color: brown

height: 5 ft 10 in

weight: 128 lb

lefthanded/righthanded/ambidextrous: right handed

age character appears to others: 19

dyed hair color:  dark brown 

usual hairstyle: down, uncombed  

tattoos: none

piercings: visual 

clothing style: visual

voice: audio

extrovert or introvert: introvert

personality traits: reticent, sardonic, dependable, uncoordinated, dreary, indifferent

optimist or pessimist: pessimist 

mood: grumpy, bored

attitude: laidback

strengths: determined, intelligent, witty,  

flaws: sarcastic, reserved, self-critical

mannerisms: running her fingers through her hair, crossing her arms, rolling her eyes 

habits: biting nails, biting bottom lip, cracking knuckles

morning person or night owl: night owl

pet peeves: when people tell her to do something she was planning on doing already, hearing someone chew their food

favorite sin: sloth

favorite virtue: patience

ruled by heart or mind: mind

mindset: it izzz what it izzzz 

motivated by: herself

life motto:  i am the cause of, and the solution to, most all of my problems.

energy level: 6.2/10

memory level: 8.2/10

disabilities: none

phobias: heights

addictions: marijuana, cigarettes (she doesn’t drink alcohol) 

allergies: peaches 

job title: book store clerk

education: bachelor of arts - english 

college: university of vancouver

work ethic: average 

job history: has had the same bookstore job since the eleventh grade

income: $15.24/hour

dream job: author 

what job would she do poorly at: doctor (she would definitely suck at bedside manner)

favorite foods: fries, chocolate ice cream, broccoli, spinach,

favorite drinks: nestea, water

favorite movie: the fight club

favorite music artist: khalid 

favorite book: twilight

favorite place: brentwood

favorite activities: taking photos, reading, surfing (she sucks at it but enjoys it)

favorite time of day: sundown

what makes them happy? taking pictures, being around her friends, summer

what makes them sad? every season that isn’t summer, the concept of family

hobbies: photography, writing

favorite animal: elephants

raised by: mother

parent status: separated

mother’s name: elizabeth hanes

mother’s age: 41

mother’s background: american

father’s name: anthony taylor  

father’s age: 42

father’s background: american

relationship with mother: nova and her mother don’t have the strongest relationship. growing up, nova felt as if her mother was too hovering. there were always limits to what she was allowed to do. as nova got older, she started to rebel against her mother's rules and demands which caused a strain in their relationship. although they don’t despise each other, they also don’t show much intimacy towards the other. nova never felt as if she could trust in her mother with her secrets or go to her for advice. she was too afraid she would judge her too harshly if she knew the personal details of novas life. 

relationship with father: this is probably the most complicated relationship in novas life. until nova was fourteen, her father was in jail. during that time they had no relationship as he had been out of her life since she was an infant. by the time she was fifteen her father reached out to her and asked her for money. and so nova managed to put together some money to give to him. whenever she would visit brentwood she would secretly visit her father and help him around the house (buy groceries, lend him money, clean his house). this sort of relationship went on until she was eighteen. she was tired of feeling used by her father so she cut him out of her life. she continued to visit brentwood but avoided him at all cost. she was 20 when her father (kinda??) fixed up his life and nova allowed him back into her life. (you can probably find more info here)

only child? no

first born, middle child, or youngest? first born

# of siblings: one half brother

relationship with siblings:  novas kinda like a mom figure to her brother. despite the big age gap between them they get along fairly well. he goes to brentwood with her every summer

how has family life shaped the character? nova often distances herself from emotionally getting attached to people. she can come off as very standoffish when it comes to having close connections with others. this isolated behaviour has rooted from her vacant relationship with her mother and father. having no relationship with them fostered her to have a very self dependent nature. 

sexual orientation: bisexual 

relationship status: single

notable ex-lovers: n/a 

top 3 loved ones: the gang 

top 3 disliked ones: her father, ??, ??

how have they changed as a person throughout their life?  nova has slowly become less of an introvert overtime. throughout her teens nova barely spoke without being called upon and kept to herself. now as she’s getting older she voices her opinion and thoughts  when she see’s fit. 

major regrets: the first time she lent her father money. she believes it was the start of the dark rabbit hole he dragged her through.

biggest life lessons learned: rely on no one but yourself. nobody is as loyal to you as you are loyal to yourself. if you don’t set high expectations and dependance on people they can’t disappoint you. 

religious beliefs: atheist 

core values: respect, hedonism, loyalty, humor 

morals: always be loyal to your friends. never break a promise, and never make a promise you can't keep. never trust anyone. take less than you give.

favorite memories: the first time she met the gang 

least favorite memories: finding her father passed out drunk (the many many times)

things they want in life: to be happy and one day maybe have a family of her own

things they don’t want in life: to be wealthy. she’s a strong believer that money doesn't buy happiness

any secrets: that she is still in contact with her father

what they think of themselves: very little. nova is very self deprecating it and can be a bit excessive at times.  she thinks she lacks motivation and personality at times. she also thinks she can be a bit of a jerk when she wants to be. 

what they wish they could change: nothing. although she doubts many things about herself and her past actions, she knows that she wouldn’t be who she was without any of it. even so, she knows that it’s impossible to change the past so why dwell on it.

what they wish they could have: a family

risks worth taking: finding that treasure. no matter the cost

things they take for granted: life, good health 

what they have doubts about: her future and the direction it is headed

what makes them feel alive: usually anything that ignites her soul. her favourites are: running into the cold ocean water on a hot summer day,  developing a photo that turned out perfectly, hearing her friends laugh … 

what do they want to be remembered for? her photos. she doesn’t really mind if the memory of herself fades, but as long as the memories she captured in her photos live on forever

[paperanomaly]

A Short Evidentiary Anthology Supporting the Validity of Transgender Minds and People

Okay so lemme elaborate here.  I go on youtube to practice my debate skills, since the pickings there are usually pretty easy to handle, most often in favor of concepts and ideas that I believe in or am intimate with.   Some asshat on youtube: +PaperAnomaly​​ first of all when public bathrooms were made nobody had gender identity in mind they had common sense in mind. If you are a male with a penis you use the men's room if you are a woman with a vagina you use the women's room again COMMON sense. Funny how you keep bringing up sexual deviance or arguing that breeding purposes has nothing to do with being man or a woman you and others like you seem to think your going to change the definition of what a man or woman are and basically like I said you want special treatment. So according to you its OK to call an obese person fat, it's OK to call a midget short, and it's OK to call a black person black but a man who wants to be a woman has to be treated special, and a woman who wants to be a man has to be treated special. Bible ain't got nothing to do with this I could care less about religion, science and common sense seem to have you at a disadvantage see you can stuff as much socks in your pants as you want, you can pretend to be the bearded lady all you want, you can dress like a hillbilly trucker all you want somebody takes your DNA you ain't coming up as no man. A man can chop his dick as much as he wants, or tape it to his thigh as much as he wants, he can put the most fancy size thirteen heels on, he can put the best linebacker fitting dress, guess what you take his DNA he's coming up as a man. So you can cry all you want you feel a certain way it don't make it reality. You want to pretend in your own life? That's fine I could care less but don't expect me to play along with the fantasy. Same goes for people in restrooms they're rights shouldn't be dumped on so a small minority with a fantasy can have more rights than them, girls in schools and public restrooms who feel uncomfortable shouldn't have to be told to eat it so you don't make a cross dresser upset. My Response: Meet Michael Dillon http://library.transgenderzone.com/?page_id=635#.WG2mDyMrJYJ . Michael Dillon was born in 1915, and became the first transgender to go through FTM GRS in 1945, the same year WW2 ended, 20 years before the Civil Rights Movement took place.  So not only did Surgeons, Endocrinologists, Physicians and Psychiatrists understand the plight of transpersons, but they understood it BETTER than the plight of black people asking for equal treatment beside white people.  Or were black people asking for SPECIAL treatment? You tell me.   Not old enough to prove that this isn't some "Modern Gender Identity SJW SnowFlake Pretend Game"?  Okay.  Meet Elagabalus, First Transgender Empress of Rome from 218-222 AD. Citation: http://outhistory.org/exhibits/show/tgi-bios/elagabalus  And since the Ancient Romans had public bathhouses before public restrooms, Elagabalus's example is even more perfect here. Cuz what's more intimate than pissing together in public? BATHING together in public. "Funny how you keep bringing up sexual deviance or arguing that breeding purposes has nothing to do with being man or a woman..."  It does not take a man and a woman to make a baby.  It takes a sperm fertilizing an ovum.  Or are test tubes grandfathered in as females?  Have we been wrong about sea horses all this time? “you and others like you seem to think your going to change the definition of what a man or woman are and basically like I said you want special treatment."  When Michael Dillon was alive, a man could only be defined as a man if he owned land, had a job, a house, a wife, and kids.  A woman could only be defined as a woman if she had a husband, kids, and stayed home to make her career out of taking care of those kids.  But by then women were changing their definitions of what women were: nurses, doctors, teachers, lawyers, mechanics, pilots, manufacturers, designers, architects, welders, fire fighters, etc.. Humanity is always morphing, always changing, always diversifying, always advancing.  Earth is filled with diversity.  there was not 1 prey, 1 predator, 1 human, 1 plant, 1 water. There are millions upon millions of animals, plants, humans, and brain structures.  The more differing brain structures out there, the better our chances to survive as a species. Evolution supports Transgender.   As for the special treatment part, if we wanted to be treated "special," we would be demanding the government to build gender-fluid restrooms in all existing public buildings. But we aren't, are we?  We're asking if maybe, just maybe, people like you wouldn't mind not raping and killing us for using the toilet that makes us feel the most safe.  The ONLY "special treatment" we get are from people like you calling us sick and disgusting and saying that we deserve to die.  I know I don't walk around telling that to random strangers, why would you tell that to a transgender person just because you don't understand their story? "So according to you its OK to call an obese person fat, it's OK to call a midget short, and it's OK to call a black person black but a man who wants to be a woman has to be treated special, and a woman who wants to be a man has to be treated special."   "In 1995 and 2000, two independent teams of researchers decided to examine a region of the brain called the bed nucleus of the stria terminalis (BSTc) in trans- and cisgender men and women (Figure 2). The BSTc functions in anxiety, but is, on average, twice as large and twice as densely populated with cells in men compared to women. This sexual dimorphism is pretty robust, and though scientists don’t know why it exists, it appears to be a good marker of a “male” vs. “female” brain. Thus, these two studies sought to examine the brains of transgender individuals to figure out if their brains better resembled their assigned or chosen sex. Interestingly, both teams discovered that male-to-female transgender women had a BSTc more closely resembling that of cisgender women than men in both size and cell density, and that female-to-male transgender men had BSTcs resembling cisgender men." ( Citation link: http://sitn.hms.harvard.edu/flash/2016/gender-lines-science-transgender-identity/ ) Nope.  A woman who sees himself as a man has to be treated like a man, and a man who sees himself as a woman has to be treated like a woman. "science and common sense seem to have you at a disadvantage.." According to my quote, and according to Harvard University's Graduate School of Arts and Sciences, it seems i have a lot more science to offer than YOU do :) "you can stuff as much socks in your pants as you want,"  oh i don't have to!  Check this shit out: https://www.google.com/search?q=strap-on+dildo+harness&espv=2&biw=1224&bih=775&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiJ3PvC9qnRAhWB5CYKHcjGBe8Q_AUIBygC  I can buy a dick bigger than yours! "you can pretend to be the bearded lady all you want," I don't have to pretend, I have a beard and i LOVE it :) "you can dress like a hillbilly trucker all you want"  Oh man, is THAT what you think women are into these days? No wonder you're so butthurt, you got blueballs out the wazoo.   "somebody takes your DNA you ain't coming up as no man."  You know what? GOOD. I don't care.  I only care about looking like a man and feeling like one, as most if not ALL transgender people are concerned with.   White people's DNA is more closely related to neanderthal DNA than people of other races, according to your logic, does that make you and I knuckle-dragging cave-dwellers? No. For MOST of us.... "A man can chop his dick as much as he wants, or tape it to his thigh as much as he wants, he can put the most fancy size thirteen heels on, he can put the best linebacker fitting dress, guess what you take his DNA he's coming up as a man."  So tell me, if you saw one of these women walking down the street, you wouldn't hit on them? http://9gag.com/gag/aG9onLn/definitely-fooled-me-the-ladyboy-pageant-of-thailand "So you can cry all you want you feel a certain way it don't make it reality." OH yes it does, the American Psychology Association says so! "You want to pretend in your own life? That's fine I could care less but don't expect me to play along with the fantasy." Trust me, we wouldn't want you to. "Same goes for people in restrooms.." I don't know if you know, but, uhm... Uhm... Transgender people in restrooms are PEOPLE... as well. "...they're (*their) rights shouldn't be dumped on so a small minority with a fantasy can have more rights than them,"  What was that about not crying??  We, all 0.03% of the American population DON'T want special rights, we want EQUAL rights, and the ONE EQUAL RIGHT that we want is to piss in the vestibule that we feel most secure in.  IDK about you, but I don't try to pick up dates in the bathroom, So unless you go pussy shopping next to a urinal, you have nothing to be scared of.  You don't either way, but you deluded fools and your hollering for safe spaces away from the staggering number of 0.03 that are transgender, oh how ironic. "girls in schools and public restrooms who feel uncomfortable shouldn't have to be told to eat it so you don't make a cross dresser upset."  Actually, Transgenders have more to fear from the other cisgender girls in the bathroom than we do other Transgenders in the bathroom!   Citation: http://transadvocate.com/trans-student-attacking-girls-in-restroom-or-you-know-not_n_10284.htm Citation: http://www.newstimes.com/local/article/Woman-mistaken-for-transgender-harassed-in-7471666.php In fact, Transgender people have more of a right to be afraid of Cis-Gender people than Cis-genders do to be afraid Transgender people. Citation: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_unlawfully_killed_transgender_people A LOT more.  But no. You go on ahead and say YOU'RE the ones in danger, and that WE'RE the deluded threats to society.... What do you guys think?