#masked author bent neck lady

[the-masked-author]

Most Likely to Get a Disapproving Glare from Hannah Grose goes to...

... Bent Neck Lady (aka: ???) for "our lips are like glue (i think i love you)"

[pastelpatchh]

Golden

Character: Armin Arlert

Anime: Attack On Titan

Pairings: S4!Armin x fem!reader

Word count: 1.7k+

Genre: Fluff

Pov: Armin being your bookstore and café crush !!

a/n: AHH I’m having an Armin brain rot !! Please excuse any errors :>

You take in a deep breath, appreciating the smell of old books as you walk down the aisle of the shop.

Situated at the corner of the street down the block, you find yourself frequently visiting this old book shop. It was a past time of yours, a little activity that broke the monotony of your day.

The old lady who sits at the front of the desk always says a little ‘hello’ to you whenever you walked in. She was happy to see you walk in, not only because of your love for reading but you were also sort of like a regular customer.

Today was a little different compared to most days, you walked down the aisle of your favourite genre, already feeling a little giddy knowing you’d finally have your hands on a copy of a new release from your favourite author.

Then your eye intentionally caught a glimpse of gold and blonde, heart stopping a little.

There he was, the discreet reason you always came to this very bookstore. His head bent down, skimming over the contents of a book. He was always hanging out in the history section but today he was standing in another section of the store, sometimes he’d bring his friends, but mostly he’d be here alone.

His blue eyes barely turned your way, but when it did, it gave you butterflies. His gaze had a glow, almost like it filled sunlight wherever he’d look.

However, you’d never seen what he truly looked like, half of his face was covered by a face mask. Nonetheless, you still believed he’d have the kindest expression on his face.

You were hesitant, but you still walked up to where he stood.

He had a copy of the book you wanted in his hands, and then you felt a weight drop in your stomach.

That was the last copy, the shelf was empty.

You try your best to hide your disappointment, but your eyes were still glued to the book, feeling a bitter wave of hopelessness and dismay knowing you were late.

All those days of reading expectations and following up on this book didn't have the end you were hoping for, no big deal right? Pressing your lips together you look up at him, surprisingly he was already looking at your face.

Unable to say anything, you nod your head in a sort of greeting, he responds by doing the same.

"Here, I think you were looking for this " he said. His tone was curt, almost apologetic. He was giving you the book and you still had no idea what to say. Freezing up was a bad idea, but now that he was actually speaking to you, you were taken aback.

However, a small smile grows on your lips, "It's fine, I'm sure this interests you"

"Not really, I'm more of a history person. I just decided to check out the other genres" he shrugs.

"History huh?" You say, pretending you didn't already know this very fact, for a moment your gaze met his, as if he was searching the intention in your e/c coloured eyes.

"Yeah, the stories of the past always interest me. Life back then was so different, it's so interesting to see how people and society functioned differently, and yet at the same time it's like we're doing the same things as our ancestors-" he glances your way,

"I'm sorry, this might be boring for you" he says scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. You feel something tug at your heart,

"No absolutely not, I understand what you're saying" you nod,

"I haven't really found people who want to talk about this"

"I think people forget history isn't just a subject you write homework on or spend hours learning" you say quietly,

He studies your expression carefully now,

"To someone who's passionate about it, it could be so much more" you continue. You couldn't tell what was happening, until his eyebrows shot up and he murmured,

"Yes, exactly that, thank you"

It was silent again,

"I think I'll take my leave...um..." your voice falters,

"Armin" he replies, "And you are?"

"Y/n"

"Good bye Y/n, I hope we meet again, and if you ever need help with history homework" he points at himself, again, a little nervously.

Your heart stammers, he was so adorable.

You grin walking towards the counter, "You wouldn't believe, I'm about to do just that" you tug at the straps of your backpack, “Also, thank you for this” you gesture at the novel.

“No problem”

The two of you walk out of the store, pointing your thumb to the cafe across the street you sigh,

“I’ve got to get going, it was nice talking to you Armin, hopefully I’ll see you around”

“Yeah me too, didn’t know you liked coffee from over there”

His gaze lands on the cozy coffee house, nestled right there in between all the noise and hustle.

“Oh I love it, it’s really great” you began to gush about this coffee house, out of all things, without realising he was still walking with you.

He opens the door and a bell jingles when the door is pushed,

“My dad would be really glad to hear that” Armin nods,

“Yeah?”

Your eyebrows furrow, as Armin takes of his jacket, grabs a cap and apron with the cafe logo on it and stands behind the counter.

“He owns the place and so I guess, yeah, have a seat”

You stand there in a daze for a minute, before snapping back to reality and sitting down at one of the tables.

“I didn’t know…” you grasped for words, your hands invariably reaching into your bag and pulling out pages and books you needed to complete your assignments.

“Coffee’s on me, don’t tell my dad. Let me help you with that” he points at the mess of papers,

“I-it’s alright really”

Armin stood over the table, and gently lowered his face towards you as his hands organised your things, he moved so swiftly it was like watching art.

“I insist, Y/n” and that’s when you noticed he wasn’t wearing a mask anymore. His face was as beautiful as you imagined it to be, a small smile graced his lips, which complimented his features.

Instead of staring at his gorgeous face, you should’ve said something, but all you could manage was a head nod and a small ‘thank you’.

That evening marked the first day you got to know Armin. He even scribbled his phone number onto a napkin and hid it in one of your books, you found out only when you got home, and you couldn’t stop smiling every time you thought about him.

From then on, you visited the cafe more often than usual, with hopes of letting your friendship blossom. And it did, day by day Armin found himself drawn closer to you, infatuated not just by your beauty, but by the way you made him feel comfortable.

To you, Armin was a wonder. A treasure, part of which you discover a little more about each time.

Sometimes you’d be talking to him and he’d keep scribbling away with his pen, you’d try to see what he was writing but he’d hide it from you. Until one time he timidly shows you that he was sketching your face.

“This is…amazing” you feel your cheeks heat up, he managed to draw you in the most candid way possible, right from the light in your eyes to the curves of your smile.

He drew you, didn’t see yourself in honestly.

He doesn't look you in the eyes, rather scoots a little closer to you, it was moment frozen in time.

He was close enough for you to rest your head on his shoulder,

"I think you look really pretty so I tried drawing you, I'm...glad you like it"

"I love it" you whisper, his ears more red than a tomato.

You were already breathless, but you weren't sure of your surroundings when his hand snuck under the table to intertwine your fingers, and he gave your hand a squeeze. It was like an unsaid declaration of so, so many wonderful things.

That was the start of your relationship, it went from hand holding to him kissing your knuckles when he felt like. Some days he'd kiss the top of your head, or the tip of your nose.

You would love to loop your arm in his when you walked, or peck his cheek which often caught him off guard. The usual coffee and book store dates were sometimes replaced with home visits, he lived in the building above the coffee shop and you down the block.

One evening your doorbell rings, it was him standing there, almost panting.

Letting him inside, you couldn't help but ask,

"Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah, why?" he is still breathing rapidly,

"Nothing, it's just that you look like you ran a marathon"

He laughs, music to your ears.

You hand him a glass of water, which he nearly gulps down in seconds,

"Sit, sit" you stifle your surprise, leading him to the sofa in the living room, he sits down with a thump, and you rest your head against his chest.

His heart was pounding in his ribcage,

"So Armin, why were you sprinting around?" you chuckle,

"If I'm being honest, I couldn't wait to see you" he grins, wrapping his arms around you. "Also, here you are"

He hands you a rectangle wrapped in brown paper and a ribbon,

"Open it"

You undo the silk bow and peel away the wrapper to find a book inside, and not just any book.

"No...no way" you smile, a little too much actually. He really took the time out to buy you the sequel of the very book you found him holding in his hands that day.

It had released today, but you were too tied down with projects to make time and buy it, you don't remember mentioning it to him often, but the thought did bother you.

"I figured, since the first book was literally the reason we found each other, I thought it wo-"

"You are an absolute angel" you plant kisses on his forehead, cheeks, temples, nose, "Why thank you" he blushes a deep red, tackling you down on the sofa.

Laughter bubbles past your lips as he tickles you, he loved the sound of it.

"Armin arlert, you make me really happy" you say, grinning sheepishly as he hovers over you,

"Y/n l/n, you too,make me really happy" he says, blue eyes studying you with adoration, he was lowering himself, closer and closer.

"Y/n...is this alright with you?" his lips ghosted over yours, eyes lingering on them, his breathing rapid.

You felt butterflies, but also a surge of urgency.

"Yes" you blink, and he finally lets the tide crash the shore. He kissed you gingerly, almost as if you were delicate porcelain, or the petals of a flower, beautiful and soft.

Pulling back, you both stay in silence, until your fingers in his hair pull him in, inviting him to continue, and how could he say no.

[exquisitley-obsessed]

Fiancés, Firebirds, Foxes and Fawns: 12

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: A few weeks after Briallyn’s attempt at uniting with Koschei, Lucien opens the door of Lockhart Manor to find Elain, cold from the rain and holding a note from the High Lady of the Night Court demanding her to assist Lucien in building alliances with the human councils. Forced to work together by their exhausted High Lord and Lady, Elain is able to convince anyone to do anything, while Lucien has the acquaintances to go anywhere he likes. Together, they attempt to unite the fae and mortal lands and unravel the deal made between Koschei and Vassa, while Lucien remains haunted by his own promise to Elain’s father. ELUCIEN, POST-ACOSF

Pairings: Elain x Lucien, Elucien

Warnings:  slight-NSFW

MY MASTERLIST

THIS FIC’S MASTERLIST

AO3

Chapter Twelve: Day Dreams, Night Terrors

The kiss was short – sweet – merely a brush of their lips before Elain pulled back an inch to meet his eye. Lucien was not even sure it had happened. He had felt a pressure on his mouth but the notion that Elain Archeron had just kissed him seemed to go through one ear and out the other.

Surely not. Surely not.

But she was holding onto his shoulders, looking up at him with such an excited concern that he couldn’t help but feel himself give way. Elain had kissed him, and thus finally, some formality broke down between them. Lucien bowed his head and caught her lips before the moment could be ruined by their own stupidity.

He felt the slight intake of breath his mate took before he brushed his lips against her own, pressing into her with a bit more firmness than she had. The arm resting by his side came up to brush against her delicate jaw, his other hand bracing himself on the tree behind her.

After the first brush, he proceeded with a second, then a third. Then, he was pushing his lips against hers in their first, full-bodied kiss. As he did so, he pressed his fingers against her jaw, tilting her head up and back so that he may have fuller access.

Kissing her was thoughtless. It seemed the most natural thing in the world, and as their lips began to move against one another, Lucien had the feeling that he had done this a thousand times before.

Nothing she did was lost on him. The way her hands shyly dragged from his shoulders to his chest, nor how he could feel the heat of her skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. The way she still had to stand some-what on her tiptoes to reach him. Each delicate noise that left her mouth, the fragile gasps to the high hums – he noticed it all.

He could’ve done it forever. He could’ve stayed within this moment till the stars went out one by one and the world was nothing but dust and ash. The warmth spreading through his chest was golden and warm, and felt like the light of a thousand suns and Lucien swore he could feel pure love racing through his veins.

Except in some way, it was stronger than love. It was the feeling of the glory of fate – the feeling of finding a home.

Lucien was just about to take his tongue and taste her when he felt the kiss come to a natural end. Even though he’d never admit it, even after that chaste embrace, he felt as though he needed a break. There was so much emotion raging within him as he reached a peak of happiness he had not experienced in a long time, perhaps ever.

Slowly, torturously, he pulled his lips back as he rested his forehead against hers. In the kiss, their bodies had moved closer together, and he felt her leg slotted between his own, their chests touching as well as their souls.

For a few laboured moments, all that could be heard between them were their heavy, shared breaths. At least until Lucien couldn’t take it any longer and pulling back, he looked at her, as it was his favourite thing to do. His mate kept her eyes closed as she seemed to focus on her breath, her hands having come to gently hold the wrist of the one hand holding her jaw.

She was everything to him. From the first time, he’d laid eyes on her to this moment, to every one in between. She was everything to him, she was his purpose.

His breath. His sword. His home. His heart.

Though this exhilarated him to some degree he was not necessarily scared, for he knew as long as he ventured down this path with her hand in his, it would all make perfect sense.

Finally, Elain opened her eyes and looked at him with curiosity and hope. The timid doe coming to trust the crafty fox.

“Will you still gift me the moon?” Lucien laughed, loud and bright, before quickly lowering his head to catch her lips with his.

“I will bring you every star in the sky,” Lucien murmured against her lips. “And if they do not shine bright enough for you, then I shall kill the Gods themselves for having displeased you.”

He heard Elain’s delicate gasp of breath and continued to kiss her for several more moments, unable to stop himself as he slowly got drunk on the feeling of her touch and the sound of her sighs. Slowly and with remorse, Lucien pulled back a second time, both his hands now against her jaw, holding her to himself.

Elain took several breaths, simply looking at him before she sighed, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up,” Lucien said plainly, lowering his head.

“But-” Elain protested.

“Just shut up.”

This time Lucien bent and pressed his lips against the soft, golden plain of her neck. A small sound escaped his mate, something akin to a whimper and he groaned in response as his body reacted to the sound.

Slowly, so that his mate would feel every touch of his lips, Lucien left a trail of burning kisses downwards to the sweetest, most intimate crook of her neck, where he burrowed his nose and lips. He kissed her there for several moments, feeling her squirm and listening to her whimper before he sucked the skin taut. There was some feral, beastly part of himself that wanted nothing more than to mark her perfect skin, not in a way that hurt, but just enough that he may lay claim to her – that he may mark her as his.

“Lucien-” Elain gasped, her hands burrowing themselves in his hair. Lucien continued, kissing along her shoulder to the strap of her dress.

His instinct was to slowly drop the strap off her shoulder so that it would leave a trail of goosebumps, but he hesitated when he reached the fabric. If Lucien began to undress Elain, in the state they were both in, there would be no stopping them.

“We should stop.” Lucien finally concluded, placing one final kiss on her collarbone before standing straight and yet, not moving away.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Elain flushed, her eyes skirting away from his. A jolt of anger coursed through him. Because she shouldn’t be apologising, and he knew exactly who was to blame for her feeling like she must.

“Don’t apologise, ‘Lainy,” Lucien husked, reaching and taking her hand and bringing her knuckles to his mouth. She turned back and watched him with wide eyes. “I’m only stopping because-” Lucien took her hand and wrapped it around the side of his neck. “-when I have you I want you lain out on silken sheets in a heavily warded room, in which no one can hear the things I’ll do to you, nor the filthy things I say.”

Elain seemed to only stare at him, her beautiful brown eyes wide and alarmed and yet, he could read the excitement there.

“Oh…right…okay…” Elain eventually stuttered, and a beautiful blush began across her cheeks and nose.

Lucien had another urge to kiss her.

“Do you, um, do you want to talk about…” Lucien said, slightly bashfully. Again, he thought of Tamlin poking fun at him at the sight of Lucien tripping on his tongue around a female. It was unheard of, he was the silver-tongued fox, infamous for making others blush and yet there never being a crack in his mask – literally.

“No,” Elain surprised Lucien by shaking her head, “We’ve both said a lot today I think…I think this is just nice for now.” Lucien nodded.

“I’m sorry, by the way. Some of the things I said…”

“Me too…”

They shared another look and Lucien, again, really wanted to kiss her. Though really, that wasn’t a new feeling.

They stood like that for a while, merely just absorbing the moment – the sound of the water gushing in the river, the melodies of the numerous birds, hidden in the trees. The feeling of one another, of the fingers and thumbs brushing strands of hair away from foreheads and skirting along the columns of throats.

It was like existing within a melody, or a beautiful painting. Together, in this moment, they were art – who could blame them for wanting to stay a little while.

Eventually, Lucien stepped back, but not without extending his hand which Elain took immediately. Together, they walked to the lip of the water, their intertwined fingers swinging shyly between them. They were both so elated over the small staple of intimacy and yet, it was unusual and foreign, at least for now.

“We got a little, ahem, distracted but that was some seriously good winnowing.” Lucien smiled down at her, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand.

“Really?” The excitement in her eyes made his heart ache.

“Yes! Of course, it normally takes fae years to accomplish winnowing a few feet but, I assumed you’d be more skilled than most.”

“Really…I…I wouldn’t think anyone thought that of me,” Elain said shyly, looking down at the water where little orange fish were swimming in circles deep below the furious gushing.

“I’ve always thought that of you,” Lucien said in a stern enough voice that no one could mistake his words for anything but the truth. And it was, true, he’d always known of her talent.

He’d always seen her, even when he could not speak to her.

Just then, Elain’s stomach growled loudly, and an adorably mortified expression came onto her features as her free hand slapped over her stomach.

“Oh, my Mother!” She gasped, her cheeks flushing even redder.

Lucien just tilted his head back laughing. The fact Elain still cared about appearing as a Lady even after their rather improper embrace against a tree trunk delighted him to no end.

“Hungry?” Lucien grinned down at her, to which she slapped at his chest playfully.

“Breakfast was a long time ago,” she huffed, though she was still smiling. Suddenly, Lucien remembered something. Turning away from the lip of the water, Lucien looked back to the tree in which they had just been braced against.

“What?” Elain hummed.

“I just want to check something,” Lucien tugged her along. Now that he had her hand in hers, he wasn’t going to dare let go.

After a moment of quiet assessment, Lucien realised he was right. The tree – their tree – bore fruit. They were little round purple baubles, about the size of Elain’s fist. The tree was centuries old, and the lowest fruit was far too far for Elain, but Lucien could reach it no problem.

Reaching up, Lucien plucked two before looking at the fruit in his hand.

“I’m not sure if they’re safe to eat,” he murmured, “I’ll have one first and then, y’know, if I’m still alive it should be okay.” Elain just tipped her head back and laughed.

“Lucien…they’re figs!” Lucien merely glared down at the suspicious fruit. Elain just laughed loudly. “They’re fine, I promise.”

Elain smiled; she took one of the figs out of his hand. She then removed the hand that was holding Lucien’s, he went to complain until she turned and began to slide her hand into his pocket. It was Lucien’s turn for his breath to catch in his throat as her small hand rubbed against his upper thigh. His mouth went dry, and he had absolutely no idea what was happening until she pulled his small knife out of his pocket, the one he’d been using on the apple.

She proceeded to carve into the Fig, cutting it into several pieces. Pocketing the knife, she held out a slice to Lucien. For a moment, Lucien was stunned that she would offer him a piece before feeding herself, and then he was shocked at the fact she was offering him food. Despite his heart galloping into an elevated pace, Lucien knew that Elain’s mind must’ve skipped the whole ‘food means an accepted bond’ fae custom. It was only when Lucien did not immediately take the fruit that Elain’s eyes widened as she realised what she was doing.

“I’d rather not,” Lucien said quickly, with a surprising amount of ease, “Human food is barely tolerable as it is, I can’t imagine their fruit is much better.”

Elain nodded at him, her eyes still on the piece of fruit. And just like that they were once more confronted by the endless complications of their relationship, the weight that had been placed on them before they’d even had a chance to properly introduce themselves.

Lucien shoved it all to the side. He didn’t care. Elain had kissed him today – that was enough to give him enough hope for a lifetime.

“Eat,” he nodded at the fruit. There was something about his mate being hungry that was making his skin itch, it was like an overwhelming urge to go out hunting or something despite there being a warm meal waiting for them the minute they got back.

It was a need to provide and care for, and Lucien didn’t mind it one bit.

He watched as she wrapped her lips around the inner part of the fruit which was pink with yellow seeds. Slowly, she both bit and sucked on the fruit, the flesh coming away easily into her mouth. Lucien swallowed thickly, his body responding eagerly to the sight of her fruit-stained lips.

Elain met his eye instinctively, as though she could hear his thoughts, and he watched as her eyes lapped into a darker shade of brown.

“We should head back,” Lucien husked, in a pained voice.

“Good idea,” she said, dryly.

***

Lucien had winnowed the two of them back to the front door, holding her hand the entire time. It was only when they entered the foyer did Lucien agree to part with her as Elain wished to change her dress before they ate.

After she’d disappeared upstairs he’d stood waiting by the window with a glass of whiskey, trying to not picture Elain pulling off her white dress, nor her getting into the bath and lathering herself in soap and running a damp rag across her skin.

She’d looked better today, he’d decided. Out there in the sun, throwing her hair into a bun as she focused and worked. The sweat making her skin glisten, the heat making her cheeks flush. He’d practically watched as she browned slightly over the course of their lesson, freckles popping up in clusters along her arms.

Gods, she was beautiful.

It seemed to be the most recurring thought in his mind these days. But she truly was the most beautiful creature he’d ever beheld, and she only seemed to grow in splendour. There were times where he wished he were a painter, just so he may be able to capture her essence. When something exists as magnificent as that, sometimes all you want to do is reflect it in your own creations.

Lucien was impatient as he stood, but merely because everything around him now reminded him of her.

Looking out the window he could see the gardens with her Honeysuckle mountains near the stone walls. The breeze made him think of how her hair danced in the wind. The distant birdsong reminded him of her laugh. The warmth of the sun on his skin made him think of her hands, splayed across his chest.

Then there was the kiss.

Gods, that kiss.

He hadn’t been expecting it, to say the least. Whilst he knew that there remained an ocean between them in terms of complications, the waters didn’t look so murky anymore. They were bright and clear, and through the glassy aquamarine, Lucien could see all kinds of thriving life.

The bond was satiated and strangely, silent between his ribs. Where there used to be an agonising, dull tautness was now a feeling of relaxation and comfort. He could still feel the string, leading upwards to where Elain – his mate – was changing, but it seemed to float in the air rather than bind.

Footsteps pushed Lucien to down his whiskey, setting the glass on the windowsill as he turned back to watch his mate enter the room.

Gods, something had changed between them, because she had never looked so impossibly lovely.

The dress was an amethyst cream chiffon that floated around her, making her look as though she had truly descended from the heavens. Her hair was unleashed, slightly wild with the head.

He was right, she was tanner, and there were a few freckles now clustered across her nose. Gods she was…

She was…

“Perfect,” he hadn’t meant to say it, and it truly only came out as a whisper, but Elain’s cheeks flushed a dusty pink as her fingers began to twist together in front of her dress.

Lucien cleared his throat before walking over to their usual dining table, Elain followed close behind and Lucien promptly pulled back a chair for her to sit. Elain gave him a shy, pleased look as she sank into the chair, to which Lucien winked with a smirk as he circled and sat opposite her.

Within seconds food was placed in front of them with a bustle of maids and cooks. Lucien felt Elain watching him as he avidly chatted with several of the maids and even the chef. He’d taken a liking to the residents, and he couldn’t help but feel rather in his element as he smiled and made friendly chat.

Though, he truly wished to only talk to one person and eventually, his patience ran out as he softly sent the maids away and turned to his mate.

“Sorry, I often get carried away with talking,” he said, rather shyly as he dug in.

“No, I…I like it,” her voice was butter and honey, and it was making him melt.

“Well, the skill of having a loose jaw is not always a blessing, at least not in the fae world.” He grinned before tapping his ruined cheek with the handle of his fork. Elain’s brows furrowed slightly, as her eyes drifted across his scar and eye.

Not for the first time, Lucien felt a wave of self-consciousness run over him. It was strange to think that he himself was not yet used to having the scar, given that shortly after he received it, Aramantha had bound that horrid mask to his face.

He guessed he was over it now but, being fae is difficult for this exact reason. As Lucien had only been scared for a small portion of his life and before that he’d had centuries of being known as the most handsome son of Autumn. What he had lacked in martial prospects he had made up for in aesthetic. With his consistently tan skin and healthy, long hair, he’d caught the eye of many fae. Where all his brothers were pale with soft features, Lucien was tall and dark with a large, sharp nose and strong, angled brows.

Before Aramantha or Tamlin, or even Jes, Lucien had often been the talk of the Court. For he had rarely taken lovers, and many wondered what it would take for him to wish to bed you.

Though, after the tragedy of Jes, in his early days as Spring Emissary, he had been going through fae at a pace that some said put Helion to shame. His days of being compared to the High Lord of Day continued into his scarred days and even when he had the mask – but by then, sex was not merely an extension of being the most handsome son of Autumn, but rather Lucien trying to prove to himself that he had not changed.

That he was still…him.

“Do you like it?” Lucien said after a few moments of silence. He was expecting Elain’s eyes to shyly flick away from where they’d been tracing his scar, but instead, she merely tilted her head.

“Liking scars seems a difficult concept,” she merely responded.

“Oh? How so?”

“I do not wish for such an awful thing to have happened to you,” Elain pushed a few things around on her plate, “But, and maybe it’s terrible of me, I can’t deny that I think your scar makes you look indefinitely more handsome.”

That…he was not expecting,

“Oh?” He husked after a second. Elain paused her eating to meet him dead in the eye.

“You look magical,” was all she said, and Lucien felt his heart shudder. “Like everything I shouldn’t want…but everything that I ultimately do….”

A heavy silence fell between them, both of them pausing in their eating as they made eye contact. It was almost as though now that they had kissed, the pre-existing tension was now insufferable.

As Lucien looked at her, the world fell away, and he was utterly consumed by the sight of her. Again, all he could think about were the things he wanted to do with her. Images flooded his mind, of taking her up against the wall, of spreading her on this table. He was aching just to feel her skin against his, to feel her warmth and to hear her sighs. He wanted nothing more than to hike up her endless skirts and find purchase in her folds. The idea of slipping a finger into her had his pants uncomfortably tight.

“Spring?” Elain said, breaking Lucien’s chain of thought and causing his mind to temporarily stutter.

“Spring – oh – spring, yes,” Lucien took a long drink, “I’m leaving to head to Spring, and I’d like for you to join me.”

“I’d love to,” she said without hesitation. Lucien merely grinned at her as he nodded, turning back to his food.

“You’ll like spring, I just know it.”

***

It was a vision, or a dream.

The experience was familiar by this point – the feeling of the world being tangible and yet distant, as though everything were real but you, as the viewer, were merely a ghost. Elain could feel her presence there in the world, taking up a certain kind of space, and yet she felt forgotten by the atoms themselves.

It was a dark room, cold with the overwhelming air of loneliness. Elain could see walls made of wood and stone with windows up high near the ceiling which allowed columns of moonlight to pass through. These bands of silver shadows gave way to very little. There were some general shapes of furniture, wooden chairs and bookshelves, but the large stone columns that ran the length of the room and made everything seem smaller and more complicated.

She was sitting in a rather uncomfortable chair, and before her was a stone pillar that had been cut in half so that it came to her waist. It seemed to be an altar, and two beams of moonlight met from opposite sides of the room to light it up, the stone almost glowing. Upon the rocky surface was a single copper pin which, upon further inspection, Elain recognised as a hairpin.

Footsteps made her jerk with shock, the first sign of life in the seemingly dead building. The steps came from behind and echoed through the empty room, ringing back into her ears. Elain went to turn around but found that her body would not obey her, whether this was due to it being a vision or the fact she had been bound, she could not tell.

The footsteps neared in a slow, torturous pace that was full of cockiness – a person who knew they had power. Elain could only sit and listen as they approached, eyes roving over the room, trying to take in all that she could see.

Eventually, the being came to a stop directly behind her and Elain felt the thrumming magic that came from their presence. The magic’s strength washed over her like a fog, and it felt strangely familiar.

“As I was saying,” the being spoke. The voice was low, deeper than any Elain had heard before, even the Illyrians did not compare.

“The mind, particularly one like yours, is a weapon. It simply begs to be sharped…wielded…” The voice spoke with the casual certainty of an aged teacher. Elain, for some reason, was still focused on the hairpin. It was old, older than her and older than any building she’d ever stepped foot in – she suspected it was even older than Prythian.

“You have no idea what you can do, and it’s so frustrating to see the way peasants of this world have treated you.”

Elain’s mind was running a mile a minute. This could not be a dream then; it must be a vision – an insight of what was to come. But where was she? Who was this person? How did she get here and how would she get out?

“They’ve taught you so many terribly inaccurate things, much of our time together will be spent undoing the poisoned seeds they sowed.” Elain didn’t know who this ‘they’ was that the voice spoke of, but his voice had somehow turned even more deadly and frightening at their mention.

Elain then heard the dragging of wood on stone before there was the clatter of a chair being settled behind her to which she heard the being flop into with a gust of wind – or rather, dust.

It was then that hands came around her and ran from her upper arms down to her hands.

Looking down, Elain saw skin of truest grey with white scars that were reminiscent of lightning covering every inch of exposed skin. The being’s arms were powerful, around three times the size of Elain’s now seemingly dainty, pale hands. The being then wrapped his own hands around hers, his chest pressing into her back. He then tucked his head into the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply.

“Your mind is not broken, Elain,” the being whispered in her ear. His voice now dark, seductive, full of a thousand promises she knew he’d do good on. “I often wonder how you must feel, to go from feeling so worthless to discovering you’re the most valuable being to exist, perhaps ever.” Another deep inhale paused the creature in his speech. “When the world discovers just who you are, there will be people carving themselves up in the streets for a single hair from your head. They will make relics of your clothes. Holidays out of your achievements.”

The hands began to intertwine with hers, grey meeting ivory, twisting like a wreath.

“A part of you has always known.” He was amused, and she felt his lips brush against the shell of her ear. “You knew you there was something so much bigger than any of them running through your blood, that’s why you let them play without you, why you stayed in the gardens where no one could worry. But you’re more powerful than that silly little High Lord of stars and his mutant wife – your sister, of course. The only one who ever came close was that other sister of yours, Lady Death, though she foolishly bargained her gift, she will come to reject that choice, though, you already knew that.”

Elain did. Nesta would never admit to herself, but Elain had seen Nesta glaring at the mirror, wondering how much of a mutant she was to wish she’d kept the flames of ice. Because getting rid of her powers hadn’t gotten rid of the shadow of death that had marred her since birth. In the end, Nesta had run from the darkest part of herself rather than harnessing it.

“I won’t let you make the same mistake.” His voice was abruptly inside her head, a painful invasion, a reminder of what he could do and what he could take. His hands unentwined from her own and those long fingers wrapped themselves around her wrists. Elain only watched as his large, grey hands formed perfect cuffs around her now dainty wrists, and he squeezed with a threatening promise. She was manacled.

Elain went to beg him to stop but then the rush of power hit and she felt her head loll against his shoulder, her mouth parting as a wanton moan tore from her lips. The magic was ecstasy, a pure rush of power and possibility. Elain could feel it courses through her blood, pounding around her body turning her skin alive and electric – just like he had.

The thought of him caused Elain to struggle against the magic but the figure only tightened his grip. Elain could taste his annoyance in the air.

“What is it you want?” It was the first thing she’d said, and to Elain’s surprise, her voice was steady, calm, entirely satiated. The magic continued to course through her, lighting her up from within. It was beautiful, and it was so, so cursed.

The being’s lips returned to her ear, and she felt his tongue once more trace the shape, as though he were trying to memorise her. He stiffened behind her, his entire figure turning rigid as his grip on her wrists turned excruciating.

“I want him dead.” The voice was deadly, cruel, otherworldly – familiar.

Pain exploded within her in the form of black fire.

***

Elain lurched awake, her hands slamming into her chest as she tried to extinguish the fire within. It took several moments of her thrashing in her vacant sheets before she realised that it had not been real – or, at least not tangible.

The black fire she had felt was phantom, a ghost of pain that had brushed through her body via her mind. That…had not felt like a vision. Or, perhaps, she merely not understand the capacity of her powers.

It had felt so real. She had been there, in that dark room looking at that hairpin as that being had taunted her. It had not felt so much of a vision as an invasion. It had felt as though someone had poured something foreign into her brain and she’d temporarily been infected.

Elain shuddered and was up and out of bed before she could think of somewhere to go or something to do. There was a whispering in her mind, a murmuring of a name that she dare not think, and she strongly wished for silence.

But, as it so often did, her mind betrayed her as she went back to the ‘vision’. She hadn’t been afraid of him – the being with grey, mottled skin – as much as she was afraid of the things he had said. The simple statements of her power to which he believed her to have plenty.

More power than Rhysand, more than Feyre. Then there were the visions of Nesta, regretting her choice, regretting saving Feyre, Rhysand and Nyx and giving up her powers. None of it made sense, none of it worked in the world that she thought she knew.

Shivering, Elain blinked to realise that she’d walked over to her closet and pulled out Lucien’s jacket. It was not the one he had given her last night when he had cocooned her in his riding jacket before carrying her to bed. Instead, his one was a deep green with brown lining. There were seven pockets in total, all of them empty bar the one that had contained several flower heads that had long since dried and turned to dust – they had been yellow carnations. The lining was of silk, not just any silk Elain realised, but Didache, the fabric from Autumn. It was fraying at the seams which told her it had been worn lots, loved much, and yet the owner had not cared enough about the jacket or themself to fix it. There was a distressing along the cuffs in which Elain could imagine worried fingers constantly curling and plucking at the seams.

It was the jacket Elain had been wrapped in after the Cauldron, and it was perhaps her only tether to the world those first few days after. Nothing could get through to her, not the angry screams of her sister or the comforting talks from her brother-in-law. Just this rag of fabric that smelt like a home Elain had never been to.

He’d been with her even then, Elain supposed.

It’s funny, she thought, even when I was completely lost, I always had him.

Tugging the jacket on, Elain was able to return to her sheets and curl up into a ball. Around her hung both the scent of him and her. His jacket having been worn by her on many sleepless nights.

The scent wasn’t just his or hers, it was theirs.

Rolling onto her side Elain took what she had seen and pushed it to the back of her mind, imaging herself locking the thought away in a box and burying it under sand. With every spade, the memory receded until her brain was quiet enough for her to slip soundlessly into sleep.

In this distance, under the moon, a firebird screamed in agony.

[alolowrites]

Cuddling Through the Seasons

Summary: Fatgum’s cuddles never go out of season

Author’s Note: This is my third story for the @bnhabookclub​’s Hero Camp Bingo event. This was also a request from @bnha-homeroom​ (sorry it took so long!) 

The prompt used was Cuddles and this is my first story for Fatgum. Hopefully I’ll do more stories for this guy because he’s deserves the best. 

Enjoy!

Word Count: 1.6K+

Spring

High in the sky rests the glorious bright sun. It’s golden rays shine through the vibrant pink flowers blooming on every tree, emphasizing their natural beauty. Two birds playfully chase each other in between the branches, their lovely chirps in harmony with the soothing sounds of the gentle stream below—Mother Nature is simply a lady with many hidden talents.

Although the grass maintains a healthy green coat, it too is covered by fresh cherry blossom petals blown off the trees—it adds a beautiful pop to the land. Few people arrive and wander through the peaceful park. Some snap a couple of pictures on their phones, their bodies bent in odd angles to capture that perfect Instagram-worthy shot. Others silently take in the whole scenery with their eyes and save the mental image deep in their memory jar—that’s how you are enjoying today with Taishiro.

Both of you sit under a tree that is different from the others; it’s branches are abundant, and some hang charmingly over the water. A quick wind blows through the park, tugging the delicate petals until one slowly falls to the stream. Everything is serene, almost like an abstract landscape painting on display at an art museum.

Closing your eyes, you sink in deeper into Taishiro’s plump chest. A relaxed sigh escapes his lips as you enjoy your massive pillow. His large arms wrap around you like a snuggly safety belt—they are protective and warm. Your fingers affectionately glide up and down his sweater to the beat of the stream. You hum, “Everything is so beautiful.”

Taishiro leans back on the thick tree trunk and glances at you; he cheekily grins, “That’s ‘cause you’re here, darlin’. The cherry blossoms are a nice touch, though.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re such a cheesy guy, you know that?”

“Yeah, but that’s what you love ‘bout me.”

“That is very true,” you playfully tap his arm, smirking up at him. Another cherry blossom falls and lands on top of your head. Taishiro raises on hand to carefully pluck it off your hair and holds it high against the sunlight. The flower is so soft and just the right shade of pink. He thinks it’s perfect, just like you.

Taishiro shows the sakura petal to you, “Here’s a little present.”

Your heart swells, a tiny blush dusting your cheeks as you reach for the flower. You take a whiff of the sweet aroma and lean back against your living pillow. Squeezing the hero’s hand, you look up to flash him a faint smile, “Thank you.”

You never let go of the cherry blossom petal.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Summer

Far in the distance lies the vast calm sea. Ocean waves creep steadily toward the fine white sand, kissing the land hello before returning outward. Light puffy clouds float along the peaceful cerulean sky, morphing into different images at the hands of your wild imagination. It’s a fun way to pass the time and relax the mind.

You inhale the fresh, natural air—it smells like freedom. The city’s chaotic and bustling streets are an afterthought. The prying eyes of paparazzi and other media hounds are thousands of miles away from your paradise home. The avalanche stress tied with Taishiro’s hero lifestyle vanishes when the two of you step on the warm sand.

“Whatcha’ thinkin’ about, darlin’?” His voice is loud but soothing at the same time. You feel the gigantic teddy bear stand behind you. It wasn’t long until Taishiro traps you into his loving embrace, giving you a quick squeeze. Your toes wiggle into the smooth sand as a sharp wind whistles by; the waves hear it and crash against the shoreline.

“How a place like this,” you nod toward the dancing water, “somehow exists. It’s almost as if I’m dreaming—” You yelp at the slight pinch, and Taishiro roars with laughter. You crane your neck up to glare at him, “What was that for?”

“Well you’re not dreamin’, that’s for sure.” You elbow into his stomach knowing entirely well it did not phase him at all. Taishiro retaliates by hugging you harder, enjoying the delightful squeals ringing into the semi-deserted beach. Other tourists linger around, but the land is so spacious that you barely see them. It’s easy to think you two are alone with all the privacy in the world, an idea that doesn’t exist back at home—a small price to pay while being a pro hero.

In a way, Taishiro is glad this moment is not a dream. It won’t fade away once he wakes up, but will stay in his memory for a long time. Just as you calm down, a mischievous grin crosses the hero’s lips, and his grip tightens around your waist. You had a bad feeling about this and clenched his hands, “Hey…what are you doing—”

“Hold on!”

“Don’t you dare!”

Your words fall on deaf ears as he effortlessly carries you in his arms and charges toward the sea that is waiting to greet you both.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Autumn

Bright yellow lanterns glow above the narrow streets, gently swaying back and forth without a care in the world. Luscious pampas grass decorate the roofs, the creamy-white feathery plumes waving hello to everyone passing through the area. A chubby hand reaches upward; the baby is determined to grab the mesmerizing fluffy grass until something else catches their eye.

An elegant pyramid of tsukimi dango neatly sits on a black plate. There are fifteen white dumplings, each perfectly round and white as the precious moon gleaming tonight. A crowd grows around the delicious display, making it nearly impossible to squeeze through the sardine bodies. Fortunately, the group departs when they see Fatgum approaching with his hearty smile, and you follow closely behind—sometimes being a hero has its perks.

Taishiro greets everyone until a middle-aged man freaks out from his stall, “It’s an honor to meet you, Fatgum! Thank you for keeping our streets safe!”

“It’s no problem really—”

“Please take these dumplings! They’re on the house!”

Taishiro gives you a side-glance, and you shrug. Who were you to deny some free food, especially if they are those moon-like dumplings? You grab the plate from the man’s trembling hands and bow. The hero safely guides you away from the crowd and spots an empty grass field. Plopping down, you dramatically groan, “That was so much walking!”

“Sorry, darlin’! Guess I got a lil carried away,” he chuckles while scratching his forehead. Taishiro takes a seat behind you.  

“I think that’s an understatement, but,” you gleefully raise the plate that barely reached his eyes, “we got free dumplings!”

“They do look good,” Taishiro hums and takes one round treat. You plop the tsukimi dango in your mouth, the rice flavor surprisingly strong, yet pleasing to your tastebuds—it’s a chewy delight. The pyramid crumbles in seconds, and you scoot back to rest your head against the gentle giant; out of instinct, he cradles you in his arms.

A chilly air blows by and makes you shiver despite wearing a cashmere sweater. Taishiro notices and shifts his posture to shield you from the cold—a small act that melts your heart every time. You gaze at the luminous moon until your eyes struggle to stay awake; it doesn’t help that Taishiro feels like all toasty like a fleece blanket.  

It definitely was all that walking, and you yawn before dozing off in his arms.

༛༛ ༛ ༛༺༻༛ ༛ ༛༛

Winter

Snow showers rain down on your quiet neighborhood. The bare tree branches scoff at the fluffy cotton balls falling from the sky; they barely weighed more than a feather. An hour later, the branches are slouching under the heavyweight and weeping for mercy—but the snow never stops.  

A thin white blanket hides the dull, gray streets and vibrant decorations flourish to their heart’s content. Tiny bells chime once Jack Frost blows a chilly wind down the sidewalks. Thick garlands covered in elegant ribbons stretch for miles on some apartment balconies. And others hung colorful Christmas lights that flicker to a very jolly tune.

In a way, the snow ties everything together to bring out the pleasant holiday mood—it’s simply magical. Two pairs of footsteps, one small like a mouse and the other the size of a giant, imprint themselves on the powdery sidewalk. You waddle toward the apartment with arms bundled around yourself; you’re craving for something warm. Any minute longer outside and your legs will permanently turn into icicles.

“O-open t-the do-or, p-please,” you chatter through your teeth while bouncing nonstop. Taishiro chuckles and you glare at him, making his grin widen more. You barge in once he unlocks the door and dust off the snow on your coat. Hasty footsteps rush to the kitchen so you could warm the teapot as quickly as possible.  

Taishiro shakes his head—you quickly get cold. He relaxes on the couch, not bothering to change out of his Santa costume; if anything, the clothes are comfortable and roomy. You wander into the living room and shiver up a storm. A gloved hand beckons for you, “Come over here, darlin’.”  

Shuffling toward the mellow hero, he pulls you on top of him. Without hesitation, his arm wraps around you to keep you steady. One ear sits above his chest, and you focus on the faint sound of his heartbeat. Not even the Santa costume could mask Taishiro’s alluring honeydew scent, which drives you crazy. You contently sigh, “You made so many kids smile today, hun.”

“I’m glad,” he answers while stroking your hair, “Those kids at the hospital deserve all the happiness in the world, ya’ know?”

“Yeah…” A finger lazily draws out imaginary lines along Taishiro’s red velvet coat. An involuntary shiver runs down his spine. Only your charming touches could make him react like this, and he savors them all. You raise your head and squirm closer to the hero’s face. With loving eyes, you whisper, “You make a fantastic Santa Claus.”

“Fantastic enough to get a kiss from Mrs. Claus?”

“Sure,” you giggle and pull down his fake white beard. As you plant a sweet kiss on his lips, you decide that you no longer needed that nice hot cup of tea.

Third prompt is crossed off. Which one will be next? Stay tune! Thank you for reading!

Previous prompt: Betrayal

Hero Camp Bingo Masterlist

[electricshoebox]

first lines meme

Tagged by: @poemsfromthealley, thanks so much! This was fun!

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

I’m gonna do those of these that are part of a series in series order, and then the rest in posting order. For a few, I’ve included one or two more lines after the first to put it in better context.

1. A Line in the Sand (Fallout 4, Deacon/MacCready, multi-chapter, complete): 

The first time Deacon lays eyes on Robert Joseph MacCready, he’s sitting at a beer-stained high top table in the Third Rail, because where else would you find someone shady, untrustworthy, and not currently out getting paid for it?

2. Another Shore: Scenes from the Other Side (Fallout 4, Deacon/MacCready, reverse POV and missing scenes from ALITS, WIP)

MacCready knocks back the last of his beer, tipping his head back until the last drop hits his tongue.

3. We Have Not Touched the Stars (Fallout 4, Deacon/MacCready, oneshot, part of the ALITS series)

“Come on, Deacon, she said it was going to start at midnight!”

4. The Eye of the Storm (Fallout 4, Deacon/MacCready, sequel to ALITS, WIP)

“On your left!”

Deacon crouches back behind a splintered reception desk as he shouts across the lobby. 

5. By Any Other Name (Fallout 4, Deacon/MacCready, oneshot, part of the ALITS series)

MacCready drums his fingers on the neck of his beer bottle, once and then again.

6. Only Human (Fallout 4, Deacon/MacCready, oneshot, part of the ALITS series)

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

MacCready shoulders out of the elevator as soon as the doors roll back.

7. Rearrange the Stars (Fallout 4, Deacon/MacCready, part of the ALITS series, WIP collection of oneshots)

Deacon’s not used to gentle wake up calls.

8. Siren Song - Part I (Fallout 4, Deacon/MacCready, noir-inspired AU, twoshot)

MacCready pulls the last of his cigarette to his lips as he reaches the end of the block.

9. On the Rocks - Part II (Fallout 4, Deacon/MacCready, noir-inspired AU, twoshot)

When the knock comes on Deacon’s door this time, he doesn’t ask who it is. He knows, even before it gets elbowed open on its own.

10. Broken Masks (Critical Role, Caleb & Nott friendship, oneshot)

She doesn’t deserve this.

She wraps herself in rags, and he covers himself in dirt, and they move through the streets like shadows where the lights can’t reach.

11. Between Sunset and Sunrise (Red Dead Redemption 2, Arthur/Charles with past Arthur/John, oneshot)

The dark tents scattered around the hunching ruins of Shady Belle light up at the sound of hooves on the foot bridge.

12. In the Shadow of Dreams (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dorian/Iron Bull, Inception AU)

Sand. He felt it under his fingers, against his cheek, scraping beneath his horns as he turned his head.

13. Counting the Cost (Dragon Age 2, Orana/Merrill, oneshot)

For a long time, Orana simply stood on the threshold. Behind her, there was a clatter of wood crates and the heavy clink of metal as the alienage merchants shuttered their stalls for the evening.

14. To Have and to Hold (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dorian/Iron Bull, Trespasser oneshot)

The first time Dorian’s parents brought him to a wedding he was eight years old, and it rained.

15. The Lady Herself (Dragon Age: Inquisition, The Randy Dowager/Female Dwarf OC, oneshot)

Petra never grew tired of the sound of her own heels on marble. Even all these years later, when silk curtains and shining floors had long ago lost their novelty, the crisp echo always made her feel so important. 

16. Resolution (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dorian/Iron Bull, oneshot)

The last night of the year fell on Skyhold with snow.

17. Till the Stars Fall Out of the Sky (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dorian/Iron Bull, oneshot)

Evening is falling when the Bull reaches the winding lane that leads up to their villa.

18. Dawn (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dorian/Iron Bull, oneshot)

Minrathous fell still in the hour before dawn, as the sky turned the heavy gray of a night yielding.

19. Something Sweet (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dorian/Iron Bull, oneshot)

Autumn comes quickly to Skyhold. The handful of snowless weeks that pass for a summer yield easily back to crisp, frostbitten winds, and whatever green crept into the foliage flees again, the trees turning gold and brown.

20. May This Night Keep You Here (Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dorian/Iron Bull, oneshot)

Dorian finds Bull on a stool by his hearth, his greataxe resting across his legs, his head bent to the task as he cleans the dust of Redcliffe from it.

Well, what I’m learning is in my older pieces I relied a lot on weather and time of day to open things and set the scene. And now I tend to tie my openings to physical actions, or two start with dialogue, things that almost make it feel in medias res. I’d like them to have a little more impact and interest in the future, so this was an interesting exercise to kind of examine that! I think my favorite is the opener to To Have and to Hold. 

Tagging: @adventuresofmeghatron, @molliehaswords, @velvet-verve, @valkyriejack, @diredigression, @desynchimminent, and anyone else that would like to! No pressure as always, this was just for fun. 

[raging-violets]

BTR: Patie //Ficlet// Break Out, Break Loose

Ficlet Notes: Set during 3x08, Big Time Babysitting

Pairing: Patie - Katie Knight and Patrick Jackson (OC)

Summary: With James and Carlos, sometimes it’s easier for Katie to tell them one thing to their face and mean another. A trip to the convenience store to play an arcade game was easier for them to understand than telling them she was going out to meet a boy.

Authored By: Rhuben

Tag List: Just tagging people I know who are BTR fans, or wanted to read more for the Jacksons @mystic-scripture​ @witchofinterest​ @juliesdahlias​

Katie closed her eyes, sucked in a deep breath of air, when James and Carlos activated their “sister force field” on her. She tilted her head back and let out a loud groan. The stupid “Katie Cage” again.

She should have seen it coming. She had to give them props, they did take their responsibilities seriously. But then again, they took their jobs too seriously! And it wasn’t like they had little sisters to they even knew what they were talking about. At least Kendall had figure out how to handle her a long time ago: leave her alone, give her access to food, maybe monitor her online gaming habits, and everything was all good.

But this?! Katie tried to duck under James and Carlos’s arms but they shifted quickly, cutting her off before she could really move. Quickly straightening, she tried to step over them and found herself being carried away from the door and dropped haphazardly onto the couch.With a huff of annoyance, she crossed her arms over her chest. This was just going too far!

“You can pout all you want, Katie, but we’re not letting you leave this apartment,” James said, lifting an eyebrow before staring her down with one of his neurotic stares.

She wasn’t going to pout. She was just going to get even more frustrated. All she wanted to do was go down to the convenience store and play an arcade game. She basically had free ranger of the whole entire Palm Woods. She even crawled through air ducts and rolled around in laundry carts for fun. So what was so hard about the idea of her going to the convenience store to play an arcade game by herself?

“Ok, ok,” she said, putting her hands up defensively, “I get it. You want me to stay here.” She wiggled her grimy fingers. “Can I at least wash my hands? Those air ducts were very filthy.” Once James and Carlos let her go, she stepped past them and into the bathroom. “Idiots.”

Katie immediately turned on the bathtub and sink faucets.Placing her hands on the edges of the sink, she let out a deep sigh and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Brown hair. Brown eyes. Dull. Boring. Not anything like the beach babes here in California.  Why would one of the hottest guys on the planet want to spend time with someone like her?

Lifting her hands she brushed her hair behind her ears, then pulled it forward in front of her shoulders, and then gathered her hair into her hands behind her head in a ponytail, turning her head this way and that. Then, her shoulders dropped, and she let out a sigh through her nose, dropping her hair.

Still, she reasoned, he wants to spend time with you. Her stomach started twisting at the thought. And her heartbeat quickened. She twisted her mouth to the side, trying to stop herself from smiling too wide. You! Out of everybody in LA! Biting down on her lower lip, she lifted up onto the balls of her feet in excitement and proceeded to wash her hands. Afterwards she put on a little bit of eyeliner, some lip gloss, and a spritz of perfume. Riley had warned her over and over, not to wear so much makeup that she looked like she was wearing a mask.

“Wear just enough,” Riley had coached, carefully brushing the tip of an eyepencil across Katie’s lower eyelids, “to make your eyes glow, yeah? Brown eyes aren’t boring, mate.”

“It feels like you’re scratching my eyeballs out,” Katie had complained. She didn’t get the whole wearing makeup thing like a lot of girls her age at the Palm Woods did. Their eyebrows looked more like airplane landing strips than eyebrows. Still, he wasn’t going to go to her mom for it, lest she wanted the “You’re growing up so fast” speech again.

“The burning means its working,” Riley had quoted. She had cracked a grin before carefully blowing at Katie’s eyes. “Ah, reckon I just need to sharpen the pencil. Otherwise, you’re all set!” She had grabbed Katie’s shoulders and finally turned her towards the mirror.

Katie’s results at her own hand wasn’t as good as how Riley had made her look, but overall she was still happy. Her eyes did seem lighter, and have a certain glow to them. Clasping her fingers together on the sink, she let out a cleansing breath and then wiped her suddenly clammy hands on the towel before making her escape.

The closer she got to the convenience store, the more nervous she found herself getting. First with constantly adjusting the strap to her bag to make sure it wasn’t pulling at her hair. Then stopping in the windows of each store she passed to check her hair and that she wasn’t sweating off her makeup. Checking that her clothes hung on her in a flattering way. Most importantly, that she didn’t smell. But none of that did anything to quell the super-sized gigantic butterflies that flapped around in her stomach and tickled her ribs the second she spotted him waiting outside the convenience store.

Only someone like the Patrick Jackson could for look so cool just waiting outside of a store. It was unfair how someone like him could wear a simple sweatshirt (with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows), a black and yellow plaid shirt tied around his waist, and distressed dark wash jeans and look like he just stepped off the pages of a magazine. Whereas anyone else could try it and look like they didn’t know how to dress themselves.

Still, the lopsided grin he gave her as she walked up to him, equally calmed her nerves, and made her suddenly want to give in to the giggles that had risen up in her chest.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, she thought, this isn’t a date. You’re just hanging out.

“Hey,” he greeted, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. “You made it.”

“I said I’d be here,” Katie said with a shrug, “and I’m here.”

“Cool.” Patrick reached up a hand to scratch the back of his neck, adjusting the collar of his sweatshirt.

“Yeah.” Katie slowly nodded, pressing her lips together. She lifted up onto the balls of her feet before lowering. “So, you want to go play?”

“Yeah, sure,” Patrick replied. They reached for the door handle at the same time. Katie quickly snatched her hand back, feeling her face burn.

“Sorry.”

“S’cool,” Patrick replied with a shrug, pulling the door open. Cool air washed over them and he motioned her inside. Katie gave him a smile of thanks, stepping across the threshold of the store, completely aware of the hand he gently placed on the small of her back. “I just hope you’re ready to lose.”

Katie snorted, rolling her eyes. She hit him in the chest with the back of her hand for good measure. “I’ll have you know that I’ve never lost a game,” she said. She prodded Patrick in the chest. “In fact, that’s why I’m not allowed to play Biohazard Blast anymore.”

“And you just took all that into online poker, right? Patrick asked, lifting an eyebrow, massaging his chest with his hand. Katie grinned, shrugging her shoulders modestly. “Try growing up in my family. You don’t know competitiveness. It’s why Ronan banned us from playing laser tag, or glow golf. Or darts. Or go karts. Or really anything he reckons we can come up with when we’re bored. It was too much of a blood bath.”

“We’ll just see about that,” Katie said with a challenging smile. “Loser buys ice cream?”

“Done.” Patrick patted his hands with his stomach. “I haven’t eaten yet today, but I know you hate spending money, so I won’t make you buy a lot.”

“What a gentleman,” Katie said deadpan and Patrick laughed.

“Ladies first,” he said, motioning for her to lead the way to the arcade games section. He fell into step beside her. They were both silent for a moment. Then he said, “Um, by the way, your makeup looks nice today.”

“Thanks.” Katie gave him a quick smile. “I was just trying some stuff out. That’s all.”

                                                         -----

“Hey, guys,” Katie chirped, wiggling her fingers in a small wave, spotting James and Carlos at the end of the hallway. She quickly slipped into Apartment 2J, trying to hide the wide smile on her face. She already had to force herself to walk as normally as possible, to stop herself from wanting to skip.

God, she couldn’t believe just spending some time with a boy made her so giddy.

She couldn’t help but laugh at the confused looks and incoherent babbling James and Carlos went through as they tried to understand how she had managed to slip out of the Palm Woods apartment. They really were idiots; she had watched them as she grew up. How else could she have figured out how to disappear from one place and pop up in another without being detected?

Still, it was easier to just tell them what they wanted to hear: “It’s way more fun hanging out with you guys than playing some stupid game at a convenience store.” She followed that up with a simple smile and an offer to finish the puzzle they were working on. They would need all the help they could get with it, anyway. Just as she settled a piece into the already built border, she felt her phone vibrate against her hip and she removed it from her pocket.

Glancing back and forth between James and Carlos who were bent far over the table, searching for the next piece to the puzzle, she settled back against the couch cushions, holding her phone close to her face.

Patrick: Had fun today. Rematch?

Katie: Anytime, anywhere

Katie: And thanks for walking me back to the PW

She paused for a moment, thumbs hovering over the screen to decide which emoji would be best to use. A smiley face? Because she was happy that he offered. A winky face? Because it was a short walk, and it wasn’t like she was goign to get lost. No emoji at all? His response saved her the trouble.

Patrick: Anytime, anywhere

Katie: :)

[aliciameade]

High-Speed Connection

Title: High-Speed Connection Author: aliciameade Rating: E for Every Lady Gets an Orgasm Pairing: Beca/Chloe...oops and Aubrey Summary: AND THEY WERE QUARANTINED. And Beca’s an exhibitionist. While Chloe’s Skyping Aubrey. Oops. (It was a prompt that I ran with.)

Also on AO3

“Beca is now obsessed with collegiate cheerleading.”

“She is not!”

At the sound of her name, Beca stops in the hall outside their office and then wanders in to find Chloe sitting at their desk using Beca’s massive iMac. “What about me?”

“She said you’re obsessed with collegiate cheerleading. But there’s no way!”

Beca smiles at the sound of Aubrey’s voice and crosses the room to put herself in-frame of the video chat a couple of feet behind Chloe. “It’s true, I am,” Beca says with a shrug. “It’s not my fault that Jerry deserves to be on mat.”

“He really does, though!” Aubrey says, eyes big and sad as she clutches at her heart. “I love him so much.”

“Obviously we’ve been binging Cheer,” Chloe says after agreeing with the sentiments. “What are you doing to pass the time?”

“BRB,” Beca says and then wrinkles her nose at actually saying ‘b-r-b’ as she leaves the video chat for a few seconds to grab another chair and swing it around to sit next to Chloe.

She listens to the two best friends talk and though they’re actively trying to not talk about the health crisis affecting the world, the conversation keeps drifting back to it and how Los Angeles is handling it compared to Mykonos. Beca lets her hand rest at the back of Chloe’s neck, a small bit of comfort in what are proving to be increasingly unpredictable times.

“What happened to that guy you were seeing?” Beca asks, hoping to find a topic that won’t be tainted by a stupid virus.

Admittedly, she isn’t super interested in Aubrey’s romantic life but it’s something to talk about and they have nothing better to do do with their time anyway.

She does kind of tune out, though. She’s been a little distracted all day. Her day had begun by waking up to Chloe’s fingers between her legs and despite the swift orgasm she’d been gifted, her body has been humming all day. Maybe it’s because Chloe had declined her offer to return the favor, citing that it was ‘just for [Beca]’ but she’s never quite satisfied if Chloe isn’t satisfied. 

Maybe it’s because their sex life, which Beca would have already described as “more than sufficient” has gone off the charts in the last week. She never would have guessed that being forced to stay home with her girlfriend for days at a time would turn them into sex fiends, but in hindsight, she doesn’t know why she was so unassuming.

There’s something freeing about having no responsibilities but each other. Chloe isn’t exhausted from a long day at the clinic. Beca isn’t tired from flying back from New York or Paris or London. They aren’t stressed out about tomorrow’s schedule or bickering because they both want to spend more time with each other but their individual lives are making it difficult.

The most important task on their daily to-do list now is each other.

And man...they have really been completing those tasks.

Chloe shivering beneath her fingers gets her attention, pulling her out of her daydream of the way a strap-wearing Chloe had bent her over the dining table last night before dinner. She hadn’t realized her fingers had started wandering with her thoughts and her fingernails are drawing goosebumps to the surface of Chloe’s skin where she’s absently stroking her neck and shoulder.

Chloe glances over and kind of smiles but falls right into the conversation.

It’s the trip down memory lane that spurs it. She’s always been easily convinced to try risque scenarios when she’s turned on, and she’s maybe not proud of how willing she is to get caught by a stranger when Chloe has her within an inch of her sanity, but she’s accepted it’s just who she is.

She scoots her chair closer to Chloe’s under the guise of wanting to simply be close and lets her fingers travel up into her hair to scratch at her scalp, something she knows Chloe loves. She watches her eyelashes flutter and feels her lean back into it. Beca doesn’t know what the conversation is about anymore; she’s not listening. Her focus is on Chloe but she’s still acutely aware that they are on camera and their very good friend Aubrey is on the other end of the line.

Maybe that’s why she’s already so turned on. They have an audience. A known audience. Aubrey is no stranger. They’ve all seen each other naked, more than once. Hell, she even made out with Aubrey once at a college party on a dare. She also knows Chloe hooked up with her a few times in college, too. Nothing more than drunken fun, but enough fun that it happened more than once.

It’s a distracting thought and Beca lets her hand backtrack until she’s rubbing the back of Chloe’s neck in a gentle massage.

Aubrey’s words finally register in her brain. “You guys are so gross and adorable.” 

“What can I say?” Beca says with a shrug and a smile at the camera. “I’m whipped.”

It makes everyone laugh and she uses the break in conversation to guide Chloe’s face to hers with a touch to her chin for a kiss that is better meant for the bedroom and not in the middle of a video chat.

“Get a room, you two,” breaks through after a few seconds of Beca trying her best to steal Chloe’s breath.

It works because Chloe’s breathing quickly when she pulls back, eyes wide in surprise at the unexpected enthusiasm.

“Sorry, Aubs,” Beca says with another smile at Chloe before turning to offer the same smile to Aubrey. “What were you just saying?”

It’s a legitimate question; Aubrey had been talking when she interrupted herself to comment on Beca’s physical affection and she has no idea what the conversation was about.

She doesn’t care, though. She just wants them talking again so Chloe remains distracted, but she can tell Chloe is already distracted, but not by Aubrey. It’s clear Chloe’s on edge with the way her jaw is firmly set, the muscle in it twitching now and then as Beca excuses her hand from where it’s been caressing Chloe’s neck and shoulders to move it decidedly lower.

She does check the screen to see how she and Chloe are framed first. The camera angle them cuts off around their chests which works for her intentions.

Her relocation is quick and masked by a routine shifting of the way she’s sitting. If Aubrey’s aware that her hand just moved between Chloe’s legs, she’s doing a good job of pretending she’s not.

There’s a quick, sharp inhale from Chloe followed by a cough, another action meant to conceal something. Which tells Beca that Chloe is okay with this.

If the cough didn’t, the way her knees tip further apart would have.

Chloe’s wearing thin cotton shorts and at the first touch of her fingers, Beca knows there’s nothing under them.

She can feel Chloe’s body through them distinctly, though she keeps her touch light. Nothing more than a slow graze up and down, not enough motion to be noticeable. It’s just her middle finger stroking back and forth and she smiles when Chloe’s hand moves to her knee. They always have a need to be touching, mutually. It’s not enough for Beca to touch Chloe; Chloe needs to be touching Beca, too.

Beca’s heart is racing and she hopes she’s not flushed. A glance at their small inset video preview tells her she’s not, but Chloe does look a bit feverish.

It only emboldens Beca to stop being so gentle and press two fingers against her firmly. She just holds them there for a few seconds because Chloe’s entire body twitched with it. Plus, she’s savoring the way she can feel wetness slowly soaking through the material.

Chloe’s blunt fingernails dig into Beca’s thigh, but Beca really doesn’t care. She’s too busy beginning to massage her fingertips into Chloe’s clit through her now-soaked shorts and watching her attempt to keep up a conversation.

It’s not as though they’ve never done something like this before, but it’s never been like this. They’ve definitely touched each other below tablecloths at restaurants with others present at the table. In movie theaters with people sitting in the same row. And the number of orgasms Beca has had on commercial airliners is quite literally illegal.

This feels much more intimate. There’s not the hustle and bustle of waiters and other patrons around them. There’s not a loud action movie muffling the sound of a chair squeaking as Beca’s hips push themselves up into Chloe’s fingers again and again or a dark plane, a blanket, and the drone of jet engines.

It’s startlingly quiet save for the conversation that, she can tell, is becoming more and more difficult for Chloe to maintain without stuttering or losing her train of thought.

“Chloe? Are you okay?”

Beca bites her lip to not laugh because Chloe’s flat-out failed to speak. She waits for her to notice and slows her fingers to give her a chance to catch up. 

“I’m fine!” Chloe says with too much enthusiasm than is necessary.

“It’s not like you space out in the middle of a conversation,” Beca says brightly, fingers moving in slow, slow circles. She can feel Chloe trying to move against them. “I’ll go grab you something to drink. It’s important to stay hydrated,” she adds, directed at Aubrey.

She doesn’t know what’s gotten into her.

But it’s some evil sex monster, apparently.

She stands up and starts to walk away, earning a not-subtle whimper from Chloe at the loss of her touch.

But instead of leaving, as Chloe clearly thinks she is, Beca turns around and puts a finger to her lips to shush her. It happens to be one of the fingers she was just stroking Chloe with so she slips it into her mouth while she has Chloe’s attention, her taste faint but evident.

She kneels as she does it and Chloe has to fight to rip her eyes away from Beca who is definitely no longer in the room and return to her conversation while Beca crawls back over, out of frame, until Chloe’s lifting her left leg a bit so Beca can crawl under it and tuck herself into the space beneath the desk.

She gets herself comfortable, regretting a lack of kneepads on this hardwood floor (which they do own for possible needs like this) and smirks up at Chloe who keeps glancing down at her with nervous excitement.

Beca waits, though. She needs to know Chloe is okay with this, and if she’s not, she’ll sneak out and return with a glass of water as promised and wait patiently until the call is over for Chloe to give her what she’s asking for.

A minute or two passes and then with a particularly boisterous laugh, Chloe’s lifting her ass off her chair just enough for her to slip her own shorts off.

The way she spreads her legs and looks down at Beca is obscene in its own right.

Beca puts her hands around Chloe’s knees and pushes her open wider, more for the show of it than out of necessity. She wants to see Chloe up-close, see how aroused she’s become thanks to Beca’s little game. Wetness is already streaked high along her inner thighs and her clit is swollen and peeking out, but Beca already knew that. She could feel it. But it’s something else entirely to see it.

She’s not sure how much time they have, really. Aubrey might have something better to do and hang up, which in all honesty would be totally fine. Beca will see this through regardless. But the fun, the game, the challenge, the kink is to do this while Chloe is on a live video call.

She doesn’t wait or go through her usual teasing build-up of working her way closer and closer until Chloe’s begging.

She leans close and runs her tongue through Chloe, entrance to clit, and hears Chloe stop talking mid-word for a solid two seconds before she can continue.

Beca has to struggle not to moan herself. She’s outrageously turned on and tries to channel it into her attention to Chloe.

And she lavishes that attention.

Making love to Chloe is always an experience, but some are more heightened than others. Beca has no shame in the knowledge that she would happily sit and lick Chloe for hours and then ask for permission to do it for several more. She loves it. She loves it more than she loves most things in life. If she had to rank the things she loved, Chloe would be first and eating Chloe’s pussy would be second.

Everything else is after that.

It’s almost startling how wet Chloe’s getting. Beca feels it on her chin and cheeks and laps at Chloe like she can’t get enough (she can’t). Her tongue slips higher to stop avoiding the type of focused attention she knows Chloe needs and flicks it against her clit, now fully swollen and on display for Beca to worship. Which she does. Chloe keeps inching away from her as she struggles to stay still but Beca just follows, not letting her mouth leave Chloe for even a second.

Her tongue flicks and swirls and when she knows Chloe’s not expecting it, she lifts her hand and sinks two fingers into her to give her something to squeeze.

A moan gets her attention and she glances up to see Chloe’s head thrown back just as fingers slide into Beca’s hair to start guiding her.

The sight makes Beca moan, too, and whatever semblance of discretion they’d been exercising gets thrown out the window. She didn’t remember Chloe telling Aubrey goodbye or hearing the sound of the call disconnecting, but it’s hard to hear with Chloe’s thighs pressing against her ears every few seconds as she writhes in her seat.

She’s just starting to set a pace with her fingers when she hears another moan. Except, it’s definitely not her own, and it’s definitely not Chloe’s.

Her whole body freezes on reflex and Chloe’s head snaps up.

“Baby, don’t stop.”

“Yeah, keep going.”

Beca’s head whips around, hair pulling uncomfortably where it’s still tangled in Chloe’s fingers, to look up at the computer screen.

She was so focused she had no idea they’d migrated so far away from the desk or that what they were doing was in full-frame, right down to where it cut off just below Beca’s ass.

If that wasn’t enough of a surprise, the fact that Aubrey’s chair has rolled back enough for it to be obvious that she’s touching herself, hand down the front of her leggings, was definitely a shock.

But the screaming arousal shoves away the shock and the sight makes Beca groan. She hadn’t expected this; she’d expected to get Chloe off quickly while their friend was none the wiser. That was the game.

This was...a threesome?

“Holy fuck,” Beca says, watching Aubrey (who didn’t stop touching herself with Beca’s discovery) for a few seconds before turning back to Chloe following a sharp tug on her hair. “Holy fuck,” she says again before leaning back in to take Chloe’s clit between her lips and start sucking as her fingers start thrusting.

Her mind is reeling. Every time she glances up, Chloe’s eyes are either locked on her, locked on the screen, or her head is thrown back. She rearranges a little, no longer having to be discreet, and uses her free hand to lift Chloe’s leg over her shoulder. The other stays planted on the floor for leverage, Beca realizes, so Chloe can rock her hips up into Beca’s face.

She’s never heard Aubrey like this before. Her moans are loud and breathy and Beca can tell by the way they’re stilted that she’s touching herself hard and fast.

She does the same for Chloe, fingers starting to pound into her in fast, short strokes as she sucks harder and harder on her clit.

Chloe’s moan of, “Shit, I’m so close,” sends Beca’s hand down the front of her own shorts to thrust three fingers into herself and start riding her own hand.

It’s a move she didn’t think would have any effect on but herself but she hears Aubrey react, a moan of Beca’s name that almost sends Beca flying over the edge.

“I wanna watch you come together.” Aubrey’s breathing hard. “Make her come, Beca.”

“Oh, my God,” she groans into Chloe before she pulls hard on her clit with her lips and curls her fingers to grind into the spot inside Chloe that will make her see stars. Her own hips and other hand move fast; she’s so desperately horny that she doesn’t actually want to come. She just wants to maintain this level of arousal forever.

But Chloe’s moaning her name and swearing and she feels her cunt tightening around her fingers so she fucks herself— and Chloe— harder and harder until Chloe’s moans are so loud they’re creating feedback on the call.

She feels Chloe explode from within and lets go, too, both of them moaning and bucking, wetness dripping down both of Beca’s hands.

And then she hears it.

She hears Aubrey coming and she takes her mouth away from Chloe, still fucking with her fingers, so they can watch it happen together.

It’s really a sight to behold to see Aubrey in a state of pure ecstasy. No hang-ups or stress or worries, just pure and utter release.

“Shit,” Chloe whispers but it’s more than loud enough to reach Beca’s ears. 

She doesn’t look away from the screen but she does slip her fingers out to move them to her clit to start rubbing because she knows Chloe always comes twice in a row. And she kind of really wants to watch Aubrey, still breathing hard and still clearly touching herself, watch her make Chloe come since she missed it last time.

It doesn’t take long.

And she gets way more bang for her buck than she expected; apparently Aubrey’s into being watched, too, and as soon as she notices Beca watching her and touching Chloe she’d fallen right back into the same rhythm she’s kept on herself, one that’s hard and fast and tells Beca that Aubrey’s as impossibly turned on as she knows Chloe is.

She doesn’t have to turn around to see that, though. She has ears and as much as she’s watching Aubrey, she’s watching herself and Chloe in the picture-in-picture display.

It doesn’t take long—it never does—for Chloe to be on the edge again. She falls quickly, no prolonged plateau with how overstimulated she is, and Beca watches Aubrey watch Chloe fall apart on screen until Aubrey’s falling apart again, too.

Beca turns back to Chloe once Aubrey’s moans have subsided to bury her face between her thighs. Not to make her come again, though she knows she could. Instead, she licks at her slowly, trying to clean her up (a futile effort) and prolong their intimacy.

Eventually, the bubble of sexual tension surrounding them pops and she feels Chloe stroking her hair and saying her name.

It pulls her out of her reverie and she hears Aubrey’s voice say something, but she doesn’t catch what it was. The reality of what just happened slams down on her and she leaps backward, slamming the back of her head on the desk before groaning it and ducking beneath it to hide.

“Oh, my God, baby, are you okay?” Chloe says, rolling herself forward to check on her.

Beca feels like she’s on fire, and not in a good way. Everything had been so hot in the moment but now she’s mortified. That was Aubrey. Aubrey whom they’ve known for so many years. Who they’ve lived with and cried with and would probably be Chloe’s doula whenever they finally got around to the whole having kids thing.

“What happened? Was that your head? Beca, are you okay?!”

Beca just groans again and lets her face fall into Chloe’s naked lap, though there’s no licking this time. “I cannot believe that just happened.”

She hears Chloe laugh and feels hands on her head feeling the throbbing spot on the back of it. “It’s not a big deal,” Chloe says soothingly. 

“We literally just fucked in front of Aubrey.” Her voice is muffled and it must be amusing for Chloe because she giggles again.

“I don’t think she minded, babe.”

“I really didn’t. Will you come out from under there so I can see you?”

Beca sighs and lifts her head so Chloe, still nude from the waist down, can roll backward to let her out. She ends up sitting in Chloe’s lap even though her own empty chair is right there, but she has a desperate need to feel protected right now. 

She glances at the screen and tries to ignore how flushed Aubrey’s face still is. How flushed all three of them are if she’s honest. “What?” she says flatly.

“Look, Beca. I can pretend this never happened if you need me to. Chalk it up to cabin fever.”

“I’m okay with everything that happened,” Chloe says with a squeeze of her arms around Beca’s waist.

“Of course, you are,” Beca sighs. “Well, I really only have myself to blame here, right?”

Chloe and Aubrey both make sounds of agreement.

“But just so you know,” she continues to Aubrey, “I really didn’t intend for things to...for things to go that far. You weren’t supposed to know.”

“It was pretty obvious the second you ‘left’”—she uses air quotes—“to get Chloe something to drink and she could barely string a sentence together ten seconds later. I’m not an idiot.”

“Well, it’s not my fault this one can’t keep her shit together for five minutes,” she jokes with a playful pinch to Chloe’s cheek that earns her a slap on her hip that would have been on her ass if the angle was different. “What?! It’s true!”

“Yeah, well,” is all Chloe argues, “what are ya gonna do?”

“Well, I’m going to say good night. This has been sufficiently...sufficient,” Aubrey says with a bit of a laugh.

“Sleep well, Bree,” Chloe says with a wave before the call ends and Aubrey disappears.

“Oh, my God!” Beca crows, covering her face while Chloe bursts into hysterics. “How long did you know she was watching?!”

“Oh, a long time,” Chloe says through her laugh. “Wait, are you mad?” she asks, suddenly sobering. 

“No, I’m not mad,” Beca sighs. “I just cannot believe we fucked in front of Aubrey. On camera!”

“Would you have preferred it to not be on camera?”

The suggestion makes Beca’s brain short-circuit and her hesitation must be obvious because Chloe gasps and bounces her in her lap like she’s a damn child.

“Oh, my God, Beca do you want to have a threeway with Bree?”

“Stop it,” Beca says, shoving her finger in Chloe’s face only for it to be captured in a fist and pushed away.

“You do!”

“I—no! Look—this was—” she struggles for words. “This was an accident! It was just hot and everyone was turned on and it was...it was an accident,” she finishes weakly.

“Which is why you watched her get off the second time instead of me?”

“I was watching both of you!” she yells in defense and then immediately regrets it. Instead of claiming her easy victory, Chloe just grins at Beca until she crumbles with a groan. “Shut up.”

“It’s okay, baby; it’s hot,” Chloe says and Beca has no choice but to give in when Chloe guides her down and into a kiss that reminds Beca’s body she didn’t get to come a second time like Aubrey and Chloe did.

She whines into it, feeling every bit the pathetic person she is when she’s in this state and feels Chloe smile against her lips.

“Okay, okay, let’s relocate and I’ll take care of you.”

“Thank you,” Beca says before stealing another kiss and climbing off Chloe’s lap. “And we tell no one of this.”

“Scout’s honor,” Chloe says as she holds up three fingers that Beca knows are going to be buried in her in the next few minutes.

“But maybe we find out if Aubrey has plans tomorrow night,” she says. “Probably not, right? Who has plans anymore?” “We do,” Chloe says as she snags Beca around the waist to lead them to their bedroom.

The End

[junquisite]

Fated to love 1

PAIRING : Park Junhee X OC X Kim Wooseok

GENRE : Fluff, Angst

WORD COUNT : 2.5k

PARTS :  I+P  1  2

AUTHOR’S NOTE : The italics signify the past memories from he trip and they are NOT a dream. they did happen. for timeline differentiation i have used toe Italics. So unless specified, italics are memories and the plain text is the present time.

“Hello, front desk? Yes, can you send a first aid box to room number 411?” she said as she placed the phone down and went to hold Junhee’s face again.

“Do hotels have that?” he asked as she fussed around him.

“Why won’t they?” she mumbled as she took a towel and went to the bathroom, coming back out with a wet towel and bent in front of him as she softly wiped the blood off his busted lip and bruised cheekbone.

“Who told you to go and punch that guy..” she mumbled as he winced.

“But you have to accept I looked cool.” he said and she rolled her eyes at him.

“Yeah until he punched you back.” she said as they heard someone ringing the bell of the hotel room.

She took the first aid box and thanked the person as she came back. She wiped his bruises with the antiseptic and pulled back to examine his face. “You’re lucky, I don’t think it’ll bruise.”

“Oh good. I can’t have a taint on this handsome face of mine.” and a laugh bubbled up her throat.

“Are you still drunk?” she asked as he smiled at her.

“Don’t go around punching people if you care so much about your handsome face.” she said as she gave him a pain killer.

“So you accept I’m handsome?” he asked and she rolled her eyes at him, a smile sneaking past her lips as he smiled back at her.

“No punching anymore okay?” as he kept smiling at her.

“It was not my fault Bora. He was almost harassing you.” he said and she placed her hands on her waist, staring his sitting form down.

“2 comments are not harassing.”

“And i told him to shut up.” he said and she sighed.

“Lemme just apply the ointment.” she said as she went back to the first aid kit when he pulled her by her hand.

“You know what would be better..” he trailed off as she raised an eyebrow at her.

“You can just kiss it better.” he said with a cheeky smile, pointing at the small bruise at his cheekbone. He knew she wouldn’t do that, but he was in for a surprise when she bent and quickly pecked that little bruise.

“Better now?” she asked him, her face inches away from his.

“It hurts here too.” he said as he pointed at his cheeks and saw as she smirked at him before bending down to give him a peck there too.

“Here too.” as he pointed at the corner of her lips, expecting her to back out any moment. But she went for it and left a peck on the corner of his lips, lingering for a few seconds longer.

When she was about to pull back, he held her close with his hand wrapping around her waist. With his other hand he pointed at his lips, “it hurts here too.”

He saw as her eyes flickered between his eyes and his lips, saw as a slight uncertainty clouded her eyes which vanished as soon as it came - leaving behind the crinkles beside her eyes as she smiled and leaned in, softly pecking his lips once, twice, thrice.

When she pulled back did Junhee realise he didn’t want her to - so he pulled her down in his lap, the other hand rushing to clear the bed from all that first aid things as his lips captured hers. A few seconds later she pulled back to breath only to be pushed down on the bed with him on top of her, hiding his face in her neck as he trailed soft kisses down to her collarbone.

~

She woke up with a start as her phone rang loudly, hands flapping blindly as she sat up on her bed, eyes still closed with the phone attached to her ear - it was a special ringtone set for a special person - her father.

“Hello?” she answered, voice betraying how much she wanted to stay between her blankets.

“Miss. Kang, it’s Mr. Park.” her father’s secretary.

“Yes Mr. Park?”

“Sir would like to have breakfast with you today. I’ll see you in an hour?” he asked and she looked at the clock.

“Alright, i’ll be there.”

She ended the call and rubbed her face.

“Why did I had to wake up with him on my mind first thing in the morning?” and groaned as she laid down in her bed again. She could afford a couple minutes to whine about it.

~

She sat in front of Wooseok as her father sat at the head’s seat.

“How did the party go yesterday?” he asked and she smiled.

“It went well. There are a lot of proposals and I have a few meetings these coming days to discuss them in detail.”

“I heard there was a footwear company which you’re meeting tonight for dinner?” he asked and she took a glance at Wooseok who had stopped eating his breakfast. So it was him who spilled huh.

“Yes. JD footwears. I had been wanting to work with them for a while now.”

“Cancel the meeting. You said you have a lot of proposals, go with another one.” his father said in a tone that was not to be questioned but it sparked something inside her.

“Why should i?” she asked as she placed her chopsticks down. She had lost her appetite.

“You know wooseok felt uncomfortable with them. You should be more considerate to him.” her father said and she glared at Wooseok sitting in front of her, calmly eating his breakfast.

“He apologised father. And it was all harmless conversations to make me comfortable with him. Wooseok was reading too much into that.” she said and saw how he didn’t even look up at her.

“I don’t care. Choose another partner.”

“Its my company father, you can’t impose your opinion on me.” she spat through gritted teeth.

“Have you forgotten that you could start this company only because of the money I gave you?” He asked loudly and she glared at him.

“You didn’t give me that, you loaned it to me. And I have returned every single penny of it with interest. You don’t see banks going around claiming power over businesses they have loaned amount to, do you?”

“I wont tolerate you speaking like that to me at my own house young lady.” his father yelled and with a screech she pushed back her chair and got up to go, ‘I’ll get going then.” she said and bowed.

“Don’t force me to threaten you with holding an emergency shareholders meeting.” he said and she stilled.

“You only have 8% shares.” she said as she looked at him.

“Why do you think Wooseok has 21% shares?’ his father said and she looked at Wooseok who was staring at her with a blank face now.

“Of Course. I forgot, my bad.” she whispered and saw a pleased smile came on her father’s face.

“So you’ll be cancelling the meeting?” he asked to rub it in her face.

She bowed to him and spoke, “No. I’ll be going forward with the collaboration so feel free to hold an emergency shareholders meeting. I’ll see you there.”

She was about to leave when she heard him mumble, “Wooseok was right, sending you on the trip was a mistake.”

There were a lot of things she wanted to say - both to her father and Wooseok but she figured it’ll be pointless, so she bowed and left.

She was about to get into her car when she heard someone calling her name - Wooseok.

“Why are you being like this?” he asked her and she turned to level him with an unimpressed face.

“Why are you marrying me?” she asked and she saw him getting confused by her question.

“Marry my father instead, he’s been a widow long enough - you’re young, smart and already follow his every command like a wife - marry him.” she said and she got in her car - not interested in whatever else he had to say to her.

~

“Donghun-ssi?” she asked as she recognised the long haired man and shook his hand as he extended his hand to her.

“Please call me Donghun, Bora-ssi.” he said and she asked him to call her comfortable too.

“Where’s your partner?” she asked and before Donghun could answer she heard someone calling Donghun’s name from behind her and the voice was strangely familiar.

“Hello i’m so sorry to be late, I’m Park Junhee, the Co-founder of JD Footwears.” she looked up to see the smile she has gotten extremely familiar with barely 2 weeks before and then had accepted she won’t be seeing him again.

She saw the recognition on his face as his eyes widened slowly but he masked it up as he took  a seat in front of her, beside Donghun.

She took a sip of water.

It was going to be a fun dinner. 

Surprisingly, the dinner went with no issues - they had managed to discuss quite a lot of details and both her and Junhee had managed to act like it was their first time meeting. They were almost done with dinner and discussing dessert when the seat beside her was pulled back and she looked up to see none other than her fiance - Kim Wooseok.

“What are you doing here?” she asked as he took the seat and smiled at the pair of men in front of her.

“I was here for a meeting. I was about to leave when i saw you and since i remember Donghun-ssi from the party, i thought i’ll join. I’m not interrupting, am i?” Wooseok asked Donghun who smiled at him, “of course not. This is my partner and co-founder, Park Junhee.” 

Wooseok and Junhee shook hands when Junhee spoke, “I’m sorry i was not at the party but i am assuming that you all get acquainted, for you to join our table so comfortably.” 

“Oh yes, your partner was flirting with my fiance here, at the party. So you can say we are acquainted.” Wooseok said and although his lips were smiling, his eyes weren’t - they were challenging Junhee and Bora was dying to leave the table.

“Donghun hyung? Flirting with Bora?” Junhee said and wooseok mumbled, “I See you’re all already comfortable with each other to drop honorifics.” 

“Both of them are older than us Wooseok.” Bora said and Donghun waved his hand at him,” It’s fine, please be comfortable.”

Junhee leaned back in his chair, eyes set calculativily on Wooseok as he cleared his throat,”As I was saying, Donghun hyung cannot be flirting with Bora and I can guarantee that.”

“And why is that?” Wooseok asked, annoyance slightly slipping in his voice.

“Because he’s getting married in 2 months.”

An awkward silence surrounded the table as everyone processed what Junhee had said. Bora was the first to speak,”Oh Congratulations Donghun, I’m so happy for you! I told you you were reading too much into it Wooseok.” Bora said, the last line pointed at Wooseok.

“Oh. congratulations.” Wooseok said and Bora saw a smirk trying to break into Junhee’s face. She was happy it wasn’t very apparent though - Wooseok hated losing.

“Haha thank you both. How about we order dessert now? We were about to before you arrived Wooseok. This place is famous for its cakes so..” Donghun trailed off as he pointed at  a waitress who came quickly.

“I’ll have a chocolate one..” Donghun said and looked at the others.

“2 red velvets for me and the lady.” Wooseok said when Junhee interrupted them.

“No, make it  red velvet and 2 vanillas - one for me and one for the lady.”

Bora felt the tension rising again and she stared wide-eyed at Junhee.

“Bora doesnt like Vanilla.” Wooseok said and Junhee scoffed.

“I’m craving something sweet..” She mumbled as they walked the streets of switzerland after their first dinner date. Junhee suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her in front of an ice cream shop they had just crossed. The happy giggle that escaped her lips answered him before he could even ask and they went inside as she excitedly looked at the rows of flavour.

“Which one do you want?” he asked and she just stared.

“What are you gonna get?” 

“Vanilla. Classic but i love it.” he said and she gasped.

“Can i take vanilla too?” she asked and when he said yes, the huge smile that came on her lips tugged at his heart - he wanted to keep making her smile like that.

“Of Course. Why even the question?” he asked and she looked away, but the whisper that passed her lips reached his ear.

“They say vanilla is the cheapest so I can never have it.”

“Bora was the one who suggested the Vanilla cakes from here when we were talking earlier, so i’m sure  she wants that too.” Junhee said and saw how agitated Wooseok was. Bora’s face was expressionless but if he himself didn’t like how that guy was trying to control everything, obviously she wouldn’t like it either right?

“Excuse me ma’am, one piece of Chocolate cake, Vanilla cake and red velvet cake. I don’t feel like eating any dessert. That’ll be all.” Bora said and the waitress left after bowing.

The three men ate their desserts and there was a meagre conversation after that. Soon enough, they bid farewell and Donghun and Junhee got in the car as they saw the engaged couple leave in their separate cars. But then again they were supposedly here for different matters so.

The drive was small, they both lived in the same building so usually shared a car. For a change, there was silence in the car.

“So..” Donghun trailed off and Junhee turned to him.

“So?” Junhee asked.

“Bora. You know her from somewhere don’t you?” Donghun aske and Junhee sighed and nodded.

“What gave it away?” 

“She never said she wanted vanilla cake.” Donghun said and Junhee ran a hand through his hair, slightly embarrassed.

“Thanks for not saying anything about it there, hyung.” he mumbled and Donghun laughed.

“It felt like you both did not want that to be known.”

“I guess.” Junhee Said And again there was silence.

“Is she the one? From switzerland?” Donghun asked after a while and Junhee nodded.

“Do you want to cancel the collaboration?” he asked as he parked the car.

“No, why would i want that?” Junhee said, alarmed at what the other was suggesting.

“would you be okay working with her?” Donghun asked again and Junhee could see he was going to bring up how Junhee was when he got back so he stopped him before he could say anything.

“I’ll be fine hyung. Let’s go. It’s not like we’ll have to meet up a lot.”

Donghun sighed but agreed. He was hoping things would work out for the best. But his gut feeling said otherwise.

[a-king-alone]

Harry Warden x female reader Summary: It's the 60's baby ~

You were just a normal person, nothing particularly special about you. You went about your daily life, without much of a care. In fact, you felt a bit disconnected from reality, but continued to do your work diligently. So, why you?

It was early February, the cooled air still felt a bit brisk, sending a shiver down your arms, feeling the hairs rise beneath. You pulled your cardigan closer; you got cold easily. As you were walking down to your neighbors house before your scheduled shift at your job, you overheard some older ladies standing near their mailboxes, gossiping or some such.

It caught your attention that there was a mine accident in one of the towns nearby. It was rare, but not unusual. The hazards of working in a mine were very well known.  Silently, you hoped everyone turned out to be uninjured and managed to be rescued safely. It may have been a fruitless wish, but you wished it, nonetheless.

You kept walking. It wasn't much of your concern. It was business as usual that day, nothing out of the ordinary. Valentine's day was upon the town, but you had no plans. Nobody was interested in you, nor did anybody from the small town you grew up in interest you. You talked about this with your friend while you assisted them for their date.

You thought of how nice it would be to move away somewhere else, to escape from the same old stale scenery you'd grown accustomed to. You worked as a waitress in one of the three diners in the town, every face you saw, you saw every day. You knew what they would order and how they preferred it.

It was incredibly boring.

Usually, you'd have left work before dusk, but you were chosen to settle in with the last of the hourly shift. Your coworkers had plans for their special love interests, dolled up and ready for their beautiful, romantic Valentine's evenings.

Fortunately, that meant everyone was busy with their plans, so the rest of your shift was you occupying an empty store. You enjoyed the silence. That is, you were, until a few men in business attire entered, bantering and laughing with one another upon entry.

Strangely, you didn't recognize any of them at all. They were fresh faces. You put on your best charming smile and welcomed them. They sat and ordered some sweets and black coffees.

As you prepared their items for them, you sorta listened in on their conversation. You couldn't deny that you were curious of these strangers. One of them mentioned the mine from the other town as you brought them their coffees. Not quite what you were interested in hearing, your shoulders sagging a bit.

"Thanks, sweetheart." You nodded, returning to behind the counter.

"Couldn't believe it, they tried to blame me for the accident. Are they insane? How could it be my fault? Had to get out of the town, it was driving me nuts." The man tsk'd as his fellows laughed at his frustrations.

They went on to mention that while rescue was in attempt at this very moment, they hadn't found anybody at all. That was very unfortunate. It brought down your mood a little bit, knowing that there were people trapped in tunnels underground, probably scared, without food or water... or worse, stuck in the pitch black darkness. How horrific.

With a small, quiet sigh thorough your nose, you brought the gentlemen their sweets they requested, mentioning to them that your diner would be closing soon. They acknowledged it and didn't overstay their welcome.

After you closed, you set off for your journey on foot back to your home. Your house was about a mile outside of the town. It was your family home, left to you by your deceased parents. You had no siblings nor much of any connection to family members from either side of the family. You preferred to be left alone.

The money you made was only just enough to keep the place together and to have a roof over your head. You figured someday you'd try to get an automobile after saving up, if you could manage it. It'd be a while before then.

The moon was bright as you wrapped your arms around yourself, to ward off the chill of the cold air. As you arrived to your front porch, you noticed something a little unusual. It looked as if your front door were open, just a tad.

Your brow furrowed as you took a quick glance behind you, then surveying your immediate surroundings. It was silent. Surely you couldn't have forgotten to close the door when you left. Your eyebrows rose. Y'know, you might have forgotten. Sometimes your head floats away into the clouds.

You entered your domicile, closing and locking the door, for sure, behind you this time. It was a cozy home, everything within mostly left untouched from your childhood. Rather dated, but still homely.

You felt like you would enjoy some tea to warm your bones, so you went into your kitchen to prepare some for yourself in a kettle. Leaving it to boil, you ascended the staircase toward your bedroom, where you stopped dead in your tracks at the top.

You closed your bedroom door. You always closed your bedroom door because there was a cold draft in the upper part of the house and you didn't like it being so cold in your room. Yet, the door was slightly ajar. The hairs on your neck rose with a strange feeling coiling around inside of your stomach.

Your home had nothing of value in it, nothing that a burglar would covet enough to steal from you. The worst of your thoughts were pinned on the idea of a pervert or serial rapist. The closest immediate object for protection available to you was an umbrella.

You frowned, very deeply.

There was a vase on the stand in the hallway where you stood. Your mother adored it. You adored staying alive, so you picked up the vase and slowly tip-toed toward your bedroom.

Instantly, you froze, once you heard a bit of rummaging. Oh my god, you thought, there's actually someone in there... Dread washed over you, but you wanted to defend your home from creepy perverts. You were the only one you had to protect yourself. You could smash their head in with a vase. No problem, right? ...Right?

With a big inhale, you kicked your door open, frantically flipping the light switch after the fact. The sight before your eyes was the very last thing you'd have ever expected to see as the light flooded the contents on the room. You dropped the vase.

It was a man. A man with a miners type of outfit slathered in dirt and grime, a gas mask covering the entirety of his skull. And there was blood, splattered in random patterns upon it. He was attempting to open your window when you burst in, his back slightly turned to you. Two pitch black circular holes met with your frozen position as his mask turned in your direction, neither of you moving.

Downstairs, you heard the tea kettle whistling for your attention and all you could do is blink. You'd never been so afraid in your life, your soles firmly planted right where you were, your lips agape in abject horror.

"I- I need... to..." you sputtered stupidly, your mind broken as you turned away from this someone, this stranger in your house, in your bedroom, who might actually kill you, and you're damn near sprinting down the stairs as fast as you never thought you could.

What am I doing?! you thought as you grabbed your own face with your hands, pacing back and forth in the kitchen. I should be calling the authorities! Finally you seemed to get a grasp on the situation and grabbed your telephone on your kitchen table, sliding into one of the chairs. As you were mid-dial, a gloved hand pushed down on the receiver.

Towering over you was the man, again, staring down at you, unmoving.

"Don't do that."

You're suspended in absolute horror and all you can do is swiftly nod, withdrawing your hand quickly from the phone to hold it against your chest, which was rapidly moving with each breath. How did you not notice he came downstairs?

You wanted to speak, you wanted to ask what he wanted, why he was in your house, but your throat was closed. You were so scared that he would hurt you, or molest you, dismember you, torture you, or kill you. Slowly, the masked man bent down onto one knee to be more at level with you as you were trembling like a leaf caught in the breeze.

"Don't cause any trouble for me. Nod if you understand."

You nod.

"Good. Didn't realize this home was occupied, looked kind of old. I need to stay here for the night. Nod if you understand." His voice was muffled, but gruff and deep in tone, causing another spike of fear within you.

You nod again. Why in the hell did he need to hide in your house? Was he a criminal? He was wearing a miners type of outfit, or so it seemed, you weren't overly familiar with the appearance of one. He rose to his full height with a sharp inhale. It seemed like he wouldn't harm you as long as you cooperated with his demands. You hoped that it wouldn't extend further than this.

His mask tilted as he watched you watching him. You had no idea what to do, feeling your mind bending and cracking to try and cope with the situation.

"W- W- Wou- W-" you began, but you couldn't get the sentence to exit from your lips at all, sucking in breath to try and ease your panicked body. A noise that sounded like a sharp exhale through the nose came from the mask, somewhat resembling a snort.

The man took the slightest step toward you and you immediately cowered, flinching your eyes shut as you turned away. God, just please go away... you thought, please don't hurt me.

You remained like that for a few seconds, hearing only silence around you, turning very slowly as your eyes found themselves drawn toward the masked man again, whom was unmoved from where he stood. You blinked, tears pooling around your lower lids despite you attempting to will them to go away.

If he wasn't trying to hurt you, perhaps he pitied you for being so pathetic.

Shuffling your gaze around, you sniffled a bit, rising from your kitchen chair in very slow, very deliberate movements while the man continued to just stare at you.

You wouldn't turn your back to him at all as you moved toward your tea kettle, stopping when you were standing in front of it. His mask followed your general direction as you went. Your chest rose and fell with your panic. You took a deep breath in. Exhale.

"W- ... Would you... like some t- tea...?" you hoarsely asked in the tiniest of whispers, your hands finding their way to clasp one another over your heart, thudding so harshly against your ribs.

The man did not move, at all. You hoped he heard you so you wouldn't have to repeat yourself, your stare trained on him and only him. Nothing happened for a moment.

And then, he nodded.

"O- Okay."

You really did not want to turn your back to this man, in fear that he would strike you down as soon as you did, take your life and then steal your home to turn into his base for criminal activities. Tears pricked at your eyes once more as you turned toward the kettle on the stove. The warmth granted the ghost of relief. As you prepared the cups of tea, your hands refused to stop shaking, causing the glasses to clink together every so often.

Nothing happened between then and you facing him again.

You turned toward him, unsure if you'd even be able to bring it to him without spilling it or dropping it on the floor. Trying your best to keep a strong grip on the cups, you went toward the table, placing both of the cups down across from one another on the surface with haste.

You took your seat, using every ounce of your willpower to one, not cry, and two, not stare at this terrifying man intruding in your house.

The man entered your view as he sat across from you. For several moments, he only sat there, seemingly watching you as you sipped your own tea. Silently, you wondered if maybe he actually didn't want to show his face to you. A criminal would think like that, right...? You weren't sure. You cleared your throat, gently.

"Um... Do you... want me to look away...?"

You weren't sure why you were even bothering to ask, but you wanted to play this as safely as possible to get out of this situation unscathed and this felt like the best option. The man didn't respond, for several more moments, causing you to squirm a bit under his seeming scrutiny.

"...No," he finally answered, his gloved hands removing the helmet, then after, pulling the gas mask off of his head from the back. He set it down on the table as he twisted the hose connected to it from the nozzle, letting the other half fall free to his side.

Genuinely, you were surprised at his appearance. He certainly wasn't what you had expected, though you were kind of expecting a monster, in all honesty. He looked far more human than what your wild imagination conjured, a bit lengthy dark curly locks, even darker eyes, which weren't looking at you, but down at the cup of tea you had offered him.

Pinching the tip of his finger, his eyes dark as the night sky suddenly met yours as you were surveying him, pulling the glove off slowly, before doing the same the other. This time, his gaze did not break away until he removed both gloves and set them down on top of his mask.

He picked up the little cup and sipped the tea.

"It's good," he commented, the tip of his tongue running over his top lip to catch a bit that had lingered there.

You felt, somehow, the tiniest bit of ease now that he had removed his gear from his person. With the mask, he looked much more terrifying. Or so you had thought for just a moment, until you found his piercing gaze glued to your eyes, nonstop.

His eyes made him look like a feral animal. Ink black. A predator.

You sucked in air audibly, your eyes widening just slightly when you saw one corner of his mouth rise at the noise you just made, that gaze never wavering from your eyes, not for a second. Like a coyote within reach of a delicious piece of meat.

You felt your stomach drop to the center of the earth.

You wanted to run, so badly, and never look back, start over somewhere else. Everything about this felt like a mistake, as if you were being played into the devils hands, being lured willingly to your own demise.

You could feel your breath cooling your lips as you breathed in and out of the gap shallowly, the anxiety making your entire body feel like it was tightly coiling inside of itself, collapsing like a dying star.

And he was smiling, just slightly. At you. This man was not right in the head and this realization was hitting you harder and harder. You were damn-near in tears, visibly trembling out of sheer panic and it seemed that sight of it brought him joy, after he had broke into your home, causing you terror. Was he... enjoying it...?

"W- Wh- Wh- Who are...?" you sputtered without thinking and the man simply shook his head with slow, deliberate motion, causing you to stop then and there. You blinked, in silence, your lips opening and closing.

The tears were threatening to fall and you desperately didn't want it to happen. It would just show your weakness to this monster and you already looked like a pitiful little mess. You picked up your cup and sipped what was left of your tea, rising from your seat with all the strength you could muster with a small sniffle. Don't show him your tears, you thought.

As you were placing your cup into your sink, the man was behind you suddenly and without warning, as you were lost in your own racing thoughts. His arm went by your side, too close to you, as he placed the cup you offered him into the sink right on top of yours.

You froze, a gasp escaping you.

And you heard what almost sounded like a very faint, very pleased... vibration of noise come from him behind you, you weren't too sure, since your heartbeat was pounding so hard in your ears you couldn't think straight.

Every hair on your body stood on end when the man had leaned down close to your neck, too close, his lips close, much too close, to your ear, his breath gentle against it  as he whispered, "My name is Harry."

He lingered there, for far too long. You could feel him breathing and you were too terrified to move at all, your lips quivering, your own breathing audibly shaking.

"But don't say it. Don't... say it."

He then backed away from you, returning to the seat he had claimed as his own at your kitchen table. The overflow began and there was nothing you could do to stop it. Wet streaks fell down your cheeks, one after another, blurring your vision as you stared into the sink where the cups lie on top of one another.

You felt so trapped. Your chest heaved and a sob erupted from you abruptly, your hands covering your nose and mouth to stop the shockwave, but it was too late. This wasn't your house anymore, it was the den of a creature hellbent on tasting your blood and gnawing on the shreds of your suffering until the bitter end. That's how it felt. That this man was your death, awaiting for you and only you.

Harry calmly stared at you as you sobbed over the sink, unable to keep a grip on yourself any longer. You had tried to, oh you had tried. You tried so hard to stay strong.

"Do you want a hug?"

You choked on your own gulp of air, your head whipping to this man with the most incredulous expression on your tear-stained face. A flicker of a smile ghosted around Harry's mouth, but it never manifested.

"Just kidding," he said, leaning back in the chair, finally, his gaze settling elsewhere.

Your eyes narrowed, but somehow... You felt your tears subside just a little bit. That sinister aura didn't feel as thick and all-consuming as it had a moment ago. He wasn't a monster, just a man. Probably a criminal... or a serial killer. But just another human being. You felt a bit more calm. Only a little.

You looked away, a question prodding at your tongue and you wanted to know if he would tell the truth. He probably wouldn't. Why would he? Harry probably wasn't even his real name. You allowed your momentary calmness fuel your strength.

"Are you... W- Were you... planning to kill me...?"

Harry seemed thoughtful about your question, though not surprised by it. You wondered if he was considering lying to you so that you'll keep cooperating without any issues arising. If it were you, you would lie. You felt sick. You were dreading what his answer might be even though you were the one who asked so blatantly.

"No. Didn't think anyone lived here," he admitted, his eyes wandering around your kitchen, observing the olden items and decor of the last decade within your home.

"O- Oh.."

Your face flushed as you realized that it sounded as if you were slightly disappointed by his answer due to the tone of your reply, which was completely unintentional. You dared to glance his way and sure enough, his eyes were pinned directly on you now, one of his brows just slightly risen.

"N- Not like that!!" you defended with your hands, turning away from a grin that had formed on his lips. He chuckled lightly at your response, shaking his head just a bit.

"I might do anything if you ask me nicely," he teased, though, it was as if it were teasing between friends, but something about his gaze seemed just a little bit more soft toward you. There couldn't be a reason for it, because you were strangers. And your interactions have only lasted for an hour at most.

"Then... Then... may I...?" you persisted in a quiet but hopeful voice with a step toward him, testing the waters of his offer, even though you knew it wasn't serious, you wanted to know if you could just straight up ask him to leave without hurting you or worse. If he would listen to you.

He seemed curious, but also cautious. His demeanor bristled slightly, but his posture remained mostly relaxed. "Depends on what it is."

Your eyes went downcast, feeling that the answer to your plea would be instantly rejected. You just wanted your home back, to be alone, to feel safe in your own house. That wasn't possible with his presence. Your lips tightened and you inhaled a breath as you steadied yourself to meet his gaze.

"Would you help me get some of my blankets down from the closet upstairs? You're... taller, so..." you mumbled, fumbling with the hem of your shirt where your eyes ended up looking.

Harry seemed taken aback by your request. Clearly, it wasn't what he had expected, though, what he had expected was probably true. It was just that you couldn't say the words out loud.

"Ah... Alright," he accepted, standing from his seat.

You walked past him, heading toward the staircase and he followed behind. As you reached the closet after opening it, you turned toward him, the closet light giving you a much clearer view of the features defining his face. He was actually somewhat handsome and you found your cheeks burning to your horror and chagrin, instantly looking downward before moving out of his way. You hoped he didn't notice.

He did.

The extra quilts and blankets were gathered from the upper shelves, bundled in his arms and he faced you, waiting for your directions.

"There's a couch downstairs," you said as you took a few steps to descend the staircase, looking back for a moment to see Harry still in front of the closet.

"Your bed," he responded simply.

"My... bed?" you repeated with risen brows, suspicious feelings swirling about in a vortex that gave you a bit of nausea. He couldn't be implying that he wanted to sleep in your bed while you were the one to sleep on the couch?!

Some kind of smirk crossed his features as he turned to your bedroom door, gently nudging it open with his boot. Before you could even get a word of protest in, he had already invited himself in, the bundle of fabrics now rested on your bedside.

Harry motioned for you to join him with beckoning fingers, you, feeling sickness in the deepest pit of your stomach, preying silently to any such beings if they even existed to please protect you from this might-be monster. You were shaking again, timidly entering what used to be your safe haven to hide from the world.

"W- Why...?" you asked before you could stop yourself, your lip quivering as your arms wrapped around yourself to try and bring yourself some comfort.

"Go on." He gestured to the covers, peeling them from their respective corners until there was space for you to slide beneath them. This time he wouldn't answer your question and you were too afraid to ask again. In fact, you were almost too afraid to even move, afraid that you were willingly slipping into your shackles of death. Or worse.

You hesitated, but he waited.

Slowly, despite still being in your basic work clothes, you obeyed and sat at the edge of your bed, maneuvering your body beneath the covers after kicking your shoes off. Harry tucked you in until you were all snug. You grimace, hoping with all your might that he doesn't try to sleep in your bed. You wished he would just go away so you could at least put on your pajamas. The fact that he was actually forcing you to go to bed made you feel angry, but your fear had your brain too overloaded to act out on it.

"Comfy?" he asked in an unusually gentle tone as he grabbed the edge of one of the extra blankets, draping that one over you as well despite there already being two upon you.

You hated that you wanted to keep asking why, why, why, to every single thing that he did. You hated it even more than despite asking, you weren't going to get an answer.

Harry leaned closer to your face, you shrinking back into your pillow. Your reaction kept him from going any nearer.

"Are you comfy?" he asked again, his tone even quieter than it had been before. You nodded feebly. Why was he such a weird person? Was he a killer? A rapist? A thief? You felt so confused and scared, it showed visibly on your facial expressions. Maybe sleep was the best option after all so that this nightmare would be over with faster.

He sat down next to you, his body touching yours with the barrier of blankets between you, but you could feel his weight on the edge of the bed, the warmth of it.

"Not gonna hurt you," he uttered aloud suddenly, his fingers intertwined with themselves, rested loosely on his lap. "Not unless you want me to."

Your eyes widened as you attempted to get your breathing under control, sharply inhaling through your nostrils when the words left his mouth. Not unless he wanted you to? Why the hell would you want him to? Is he insane?

"I- I don't want you to," you responded very quickly, a little too quickly, to which he chuckled somewhat heartily. It surprised you. He was definitely a weird person.

"I know," he said quietly, never once looking in your direction, only staring straight ahead through the maw of your open bedroom door. "...I know. So, I won't. No reason to. Thank you for your hospitality."

You wanted to snort at that. Hospitality? Forced to be kept as a hostage in your own home felt more accurate to you.

"...Well, your forced hospitality, that is," he continued with a slight chuckle, almost as if he read your very own thoughts. The fact that he laughed at your state of distress made you feel sick.

"I guess I should say, thank you for cooperating."

You weren't sure how to respond. You had not a clue what sort of person he was, or what his intentions were. He certainly wasn't going to relay that information to you. Or perhaps he would, if you asked nicely, you remembered...

"Um. Could I... change into my pajamas?" your question came out in a tiny voice, feeling humiliated with the fact that you were asking for permission, but also the fact that you were almost very sure that he wouldn't leave the room either to give you privacy.

"I did ask if you were comfy," he replied, not turning toward you, but his eyes were watching you now. You stayed silent, unsure of what that answer was supposed to mean. He was the one who forced you to get in the bed! He then stood up, taking a few steps before standing right outside of the doorframe, shutting the door behind him. You heard no further footsteps, so he was still standing there.

You were surprised that he granted you privacy and wasn't going to absolutely take advantage of you while making yourself even more vulnerable in front of him. A tiny bit of relief washed over you. You knew you weren't much to look at anyways, silently very thankful that you weren't super conventionally attractive. Or else he might have tried to take advantage of you already.

Without wasting time, you quickly went to your closet, grabbing an oversized shirt and some bottoms to switch into, throwing your work outfit into the closet. Usually you wouldn't wear so much to bed, but there was no way you were going to be in just your underwear, dangling bloodied meat in front of a circling shark. No way.

Sliding back under the covers, you settled into your cozy bed, feeling more relief especially with just being alone, for the moment, pretending it was an ordinary, normal night and there wasn't a serial killer right outside of your door.

He came back in, shattering your perfect shortlived fantasy. To the other side of your bed is where he stood this time, then, to your absolute horror, he began to undress. You turned over quickly to face away, your heart hammering away you almost thought he could probably actually hear it. You felt it in your ears as they burned.

The weight of your bed shifted, the feeling extremely unfamiliar, with the weight of someone else's body occupying the space right next to you. You had never slept next to anybody, nor had you ever slept with anybody. You'd never even kissed anyone. Your face felt overbearingly hot.

You were too afraid to speak.

Harry was shuffling around a bit, perhaps to make himself comfortable, but you felt something pressing against your back, down to your legs. It wasn't his body, you knew, as you peered over your shoulder for a second to see that he was using the extra blankets to build a barrier between the two of you. Your brows knit together, the confusions so overwhelming already.

He seemed rather calm and undisturbed, but both of those words felt inaccurate. Emotionless felt more correct to you.

"It's been so long. Please allow me to have this selfish comfort."

That was all he had said before he settled on his back next to you and you couldn't understand what he truly meant by it at all. The comfort of sleeping next to somebody? The comfort of a bed? What kind of life had he lived? You understood on some level that bed was definitely the most safe and comfortable place to be, but your space felt so invaded, so stifled. You had never shared it before.

A silence loomed between you and him for several long minutes, perhaps even longer,  until you finally felt the courage to move around enough to turn off your lamp, darkness befalling the room. You heard Harry suck in his breath once the darkness engulfed you both, but then silence. There wasn't a chance that you would fall asleep. Not at all. The silence remained, but your mind was speeding through thoughts one after the next. So fast, that you had forgotten something.

"What happened to you, Harry...?" you whispered softly after several moments, unknowing if he had fallen asleep or if he lay awake just as you were. You hoped he was asleep. Though, you imagined he definitely wouldn't allow himself to do so until he knew for sure that you were first, which is why you spoke.

Your back was faced to him, but you felt his weight shifting around, something draped over your side on top of the blankets. His arm. A noiseless breath left you as you felt the blankets being pressed closer against your backside. You had become the little spoon.

Your face felt like it was on fire and your skin wasn't even touching one another, blankets covering everything in between. Your voice felt stuck in your throat.

Harry kept snuggling closer to you, despite the barriers between you both, almost clutching onto you. You could barely, just barely, feel his breath on the back of your head. He could smell the scent of your shampoo. The scent of you, your room, everything. It was driving you mad.

"I escaped," he uttered aloud, his hold on you growing more tight as your confusion swelled even more. "I was the only one who made it out alive. I was stuck down there, in the dark, for so long... so long..."

You had no idea what the hell he was talking about, your mind derailing in several different directions all at once. A man was holding you, something you'd never experienced aside from being hugged by your father, your heart on the verge of exploding in your chest and he wasn’t making any sense.

"I had no choice," he continued softly, his voice strained as he went on. "I had to do it... I thought I was going to die down there. I had to kill them. I had to... I had to eat..."

Your breath was audibly shaking now, your chest heaving and this strange man holding onto you even more tightly before it finally clicked in your mind, the vague words he was saying, admitting that he had killed another human, other humans. And he had eaten their flesh without any other choice, stuck in the dark deep underground.

"You were trapped in that mine accident," you whispered suddenly, the pieces finally coming together for you in your mind. He wasn't a serial killer, he was a man caught in an unfortunate accident, forced to survive in conditions not meant for any humans...

"I- I'm sorry..." you continued, unsure of what to do from this point on with this new realization.

Harry said nothing after that. He only clung to you as if it were his last life line connected to his sanity. You felt horrible for him. It wasn't that it made anything he was doing okay, breaking into your house, holding you hostage essentially, getting too close to you. But you couldn't imagine the horror of being trapped in a mine with no food, no water, no light... Lost and unsure if there would ever be a way to get out. Accepting that you may die alone, in the dark.

You thought you had felt true fear when you saw Harry for the first time in his actually very horrifying outfit. You realized then that he had seen, felt and done things that you didn't even have the capacity to imagine. You felt empathy for him. No wonder he was such a strange person... How could anybody be normal after such a traumatic event?

Even though the circumstances were unusual and terrifying, a feeling within you began to stir. You wanted to help this man. Despite that he was invading your personal space, he hadn't actually molested you nor did he attempt anything of the sort.

"Please tell me everything is okay," he pleaded quietly without warning, his voice hoarse as it cracked slightly, his face burrowing deeper into the pillows, thus closer to your neck. This poor man was losing his grip and you felt helpless to do anything to bring some ease.

"Everything... Everything is okay. Okay? It's okay. You're okay now," you complied with his request, trying your best to not sound so scared while you were speaking, but your voice still shook just a bit. Harry's body heaved suddenly, startling you, as he then clutched onto you, the blankets balled into his fists.

There were sometimes noises that came from him that you couldn't really identify. It kind of sounded as if he were crying, but you weren't sure.

He was.

He had no one. He had nothing. He was wanted for murder after he managed to escape from the collapsed mine. He did what he had to do in order to survive, during an accident that was no one's fault but the managers that oversaw the project to begin with and their carelessness. Yet, he was the one who was blamed. All he wanted was to be told that it would be okay. He just wanted to feel like someone understands, but everyone looked at him with evil eyes.

You were the only one he had come across that hadn't.

He held onto you. He cried into your backside, for how long, you had no idea. He was desperate for the feelings to come to an end. He would never be the man he was before. He could never return to the life he had before. "Harry" was only a cannibalistic murderer now. His identity was stripped from him when he emerged victorious in fighting tooth and nail for his very life.

Only overjoyed to breathe fresh air, to see the sunshine he thought he was never see again, while people he used to know as friends and coworkers leered down upon him like he was just some petty serial killer.

You had no idea.

Somehow, you eventually fell asleep, despite being in a situation you'd have never come up with in your wildest of dreams. The rays of the suns light filtered through your curtains as you began to return to the waking world. All you could see in your blurred vision were the specks of dust lazily floating around in front of the window.

An arm was still holding onto you, you realized. You attempted to not move too much, turning your head to see if Harry was awake. He wasn't. His side rose and fell gently with his slumber, still as close to you as he was in the hours of the night. He needed your comfort and you provided it, even despite the very unusual set of circumstances.

Under his eyelashes, his lower lids were raw and red, a bit of dampness still visible as darkened spots on the fabric of your pillowcase. How late had he remained awake? You imagined it may be hard for someone like him to sleep in the darkness due to what he had experienced. He may not have slept at all until the faintest of sunlight came through the window.

Your assumption was correct.

You waited for at least an hour, but Harry wouldn't budge. He never even stirred when you very gingerly moved his arm and slipped away from him. For a moment, you stood by the bedside, observing this man who slept in your bed. Gently, you moved the blankets to cover his shoulders. As you were closer to his face, you let your fingertips brush softly against a few locks of his hair that had stuck to his forehead during the night.

Harry woke many hours later, suddenly jerking upright when he realized that you were long gone. As he came into your view at the bottom of the staircase, you were preparing some sandwiches for lunch with cooked vegetables and such on them. No meat, as you decided that might be insensitive for someone like Harry to smell it cooking.

"Oh, good morning, Harry," you greeted him in the most normal way you could think of, your face immediately flushed as he was in nothing but his pants. Quickly, you put a plate down on your kitchen table with the offering of food. "Hungry?"

He looked completely stupefied with disheveled hair and obviously just woke up, blinking several times at you as you attempted to make some kind of genuine smile before you turned away from him, continuing to go ahead and begin making your own meal. The first sandwich was actually for yourself, but you hadn't expected to see him just yet, so you decided to give it to him instead.

"Ah. Uh. Sure," he replied as he sat at the table, seemingly astounded by everything around him, staring down at the plate. "Good... morning?"

"It's afternoon now, but it's alright," you replied, your heart doing a million flips per second because of how he was an intruder who broke in last night, who terrified you to death, but now you were feeding him and somewhat actually concerned for his well-being. What a bizarre and rapid change of pace.

You both ate in silence after you joined him at the table, continuing in this fashion until you both finished. His satisfied expression told you that he was highly appreciative of it. You stood and took the plates to the sink.

"Hey."

You turned toward him with your head slightly tilted attentively, waiting for him to go on.

"...Thank you," he murmured, his eyes usually sharp as darts seemingly soft at this moment, not piercing into your own, but slightly downcast. Awkwardly, he shuffled his feet together.

"It's okay," you replied, resuming the dishes that you were cleaning and putting away, going on to do the same with the food you had laying out on the countertops. As you completed your tasks, you turned to Harry, holding you hands together in front of you, your lips pressed into a line as you thought about the words you wanted to say. You inhaled.

"Harry..." you began softly, your thumbs messing about with one another while he was watching you, awaiting for what you had to say, though he seemed somewhat uncomfortable.

"...You can stay here, if you want to. I- If you have no where else to go, I mean. I- I know that's weird because you... broke into my house, but..."

He blinked several times, clearly not expecting this conversation at all. In fact, he had most likely expected that you'd say, alright, you had your fucked up fun in my bed, now get the fuck out. But no. It wasn't that at all. You felt pity for him. You wanted to help him, truly. He had suffered great misfortune. And he hadn't hurt you.

"I shouldn't take advantage of you more than I already have," he responded, knowing damn well that it wouldn't be right for him to stay with you after the events of yesterday. All he had wanted was somewhere to get away from the cold. It wasn't exactly his plan to find a woman in an old house distanced from all other homes in the area.

You approached nearer to him, holding your own arms around yourself.

"I- I- I'd like it, if you did," you somehow found yourself pleading for him to reconsider, your face lighting a shade of pink in your chagrin. "Y- You said you would do anything if I... if I asked you nicely. So... please stay...?"

He chuckled a bit, exhaling through his nose. Maybe he would reconsider, but you couldn't read his expression as he let himself get lost in his own thoughts and considerations.

"Guess you got me there, huh? I'll take your offer. Thank you for your hospitality, again," he responded, more gently this time around. You smiled a genuine smile, nothing forced or faked, elated to hear that you could assist someone in need once more. He reflected your smile with one of his own.

"...Don't wear that mask again though, it really frightened me," you mentioned as you nodded toward it still sitting on the table where he had left it the night before. You found that you kind of liked his laugh when it happened, as it did now.

"I don't even know your name," he said, not outright asking for it, but inquiring for you to give that information to him freely.

And so you did.

"Is that so? That's a very beautiful name," he uttered quietly, seemingly almost to himself, but you still heard him. "I really like it."

You blushed and thanked him. You were feeling some type of way and it was disturbing but not unwelcomed, only foreign to you. You now had someone to live with, for the first time in some several years. Well, for however long Harry would like to stay. You found that you were okay with him overstaying his welcome for as long as he would like to.

And he most certainly did.

[jiminphiliacx]

It's gonna take me a minute, but I could get used to this. (DAENSA)

The Great hall was packed with people, men indulging in drunken boasting bashes and meaningless brawls, women deeply discussing the gossips of the week and the young maids huddled in a corner, pointing at young, green lads and giggling a little too often and too loudly for Sansa's tastes. She could feel them though, she had been one of them, the lifeline of the group, ogling at young dashing boys and sharing fantasies with girls of her age, it seemed like a million lifetimes ago but she could remember that time fondly, things had been easier then. Much easier.

Her blue eyes scanned the crowd with disinterest, sipping the wine slowly from the old jug, fighting the urge to gag and spit it out. It tasted similar to the one she had had at the wall , which also seemed like a thousand lifetimes ago, sitting by the hearth and sharing childhood stories with her brother. She was standing near a towering pillar which was secluded from the crowd and at the same time provided a perfect vantage point to see everything that was happening there. This is the kind of place Arya would have sought after for such huge occasions with noisy people Sansa thought fondly, her lips curving into a wry grin.

She scanned the table at the end of the hall near the fireplace, where her parents used to sit, which later Robb took over, followed by Bran and then herself and Jon. The other important lords from noble houses were seated there now, drinking and eating to their heart's content. At the other end of the table, seated in the chair closest to the fireplace was a woman, with her back facing the hall, her face hidden from her view. Her platinum blonde hair piled down, past her shoulders, her soft locks loosely braided unlike in their usual majestic fashion. Her shoulders were slouched and she was leaning towards the fireplace, like it was whispering something to her and she was listening keenly. Her body was still like a statue and the cup in her hand was filled to the brim with the piss they were all drinking.

Sansa took a huge sip and placed the jug on a random table before making her way towards the woman by the fire. She must feel lonely Sansa thought. Jon had gone south to make preparations for Dany's coronation and she knew it would take a few long weeks for everything to be in place for the occasion. Jon was the only person who had been hyped up about what lay ahead. Everyone's attention was on the white walkers, after which their attention turned south, to the hot seat of the mother of madness. After defeating her, thanks to the mother of dragons, that was all. Every threat that had come their way, they had thwarted.

This was their happily ever after. The white walkers were killed, thanks to Arya. Cersei was defeated and was executed publically after a final confrontation Sansa had had with Cersei. But it didn't feel like a celebration. There was nothing to celebrate. Noone to celebrate with.

Sansa stopped infront of Dany and hesitated for an instant before speaking. "Your Grace..?" No reaction. It was as thought she was invisible. She didn't even flinch, her eyes still fixated on the fire. Sansa waited for a few long seconds. "Dany..?" she called out, this time a bit louder, leaning closer to her. Dany pulled back with a slight jolt and turned towards Sansa. Her lilac eyes were hazy, her forehead gleaming with sweat. Her face was unusually pale and her attire was a bit loose fitting for her. She seems to have lost a few pounds Sansa thought as she smiled at Dany. "May I?" She asked, pulling up an empty chair beside Dany.

Dany took a second before smiling and nodding. It was as though she had been in a trance and her voice had snapped her out of it. Dany placed her glass on the table and straightened herself, smoothing out her attire. Sansa sat down and stared at her. The reflection of the flames from the fireplace seemed to dance on her face, her eyes gleaming like jewels amidst them. She noted that her cheeks were flushed red and so was the tip of her nose. Wait is she drunk? But her glass.. Sansa's eyes glanced at the untouched cup and then she noticed a few jugs by the fireplace near Dany's chair. Then it dawned on her, she had had one too many drinks. 4 full jugs.

"Dany..are you drunk?" Sansa asked anyways, seeking to strike a conversation with her. Dany's eyes fluttered rapidly and she gave a lop sided smile before nodding, like a mischievous child proudly admitting the mistake it had done, with a sense of accomplishment. Sansa sighed and clucked her tongue before pushing the filled glass away from Dany's reach. "Having too much fun I guess? I'm glad you're enjoying yourself" Sansa said chuckling. Dany didn't reply, her haunting violet eyes holding her gaze, her lips still curved into an amused smile.

Moments passed, and Dany didn't seem to be moving or averting her gaze. Sansa cleared her throat and adjusted herself, pushing her think auburn hair behind her ears, staring at the old, stained floor. "You're beautiful, Lady Stark..I bet I'm not the first to notice that". Sansa's breath hitched in her throat as her head sprung up to meet the other woman's gaze, her eyes wide. She opened her mouth but didn't know what to say. She was glad they were sitting by the fire, noone could tell she was blushing madly. What am I supposed to say? Thank you? She's just being nice..roll with it Sansa

"Thank you, Dany...that's a nice thing to say.." she finally said, regaining her composure. Sansa had observed Dany since the day she set foot in Winterfell. One look and even a beggar would know she was a queen. The way she carried herself, her posture, the authority in her voice, everything screamed royalty. And grace. But the woman sitting before Sansa was not the future queen of the seven kingdoms. She wasn't the mother of dragons. She seemed to be a young naive girl, one too many drinks inside her, her posture askew, her hair in disarray, her speech slurred. Everyone cannot be perfect all th time. Even the perfect Daenerys Targaryen.

"If only you loosened up a bit and were not so uptight all the time, like you had a stick up your bottom, you'd be more lovable" Dany uttered, her eyes all over Sansa. She didn't seem to care about the consequences of the words that came out of her mouth and what it meant. She seemed to be spilling the first thing that came to her mind. Thoughtless. Sansa didn't know how to reply to that, again flustered and helpless. And a tad bit taken aback. Me? Uptight? What was she saying? Sansa's mind went absolutely blank. Maybe SHE had had too many drinks too. Maybe she had been imagining things. There was no way her brother's girlfriend, her Queen would be talking to her like that.

Ironically, she grabbed the glass of drink she had put away earlier and gulped it down, all in one go. Maybe she was uptight, but could anyone blame her? She had to carry the burden of responsibilities and her family's future from a very young age and had gone through so much, and she had to be uptight and closed off to deal with the people, with monsters she had come across, not letting them see a petrified young Sansa behind the mask she wore, of Lady Stark.

Dany cooed as Sansa emptied the glass, smiling widely. "Now THAT'S more like it, Sansa. That's a step in the right direction." She said loudly. Sansa looked around cautiously, but everyone was took drunk to notice their intoxicated future Queen who was going to lead them into a better future. Dany pushed herself forward slowly and sat at the edge of the chair, placing her hand on Sansa's lap. Sansa flinched at her touch but never moved, maintaining eye contact with her.

"You know Sansa, your brother was uptight and rude when I first met him. Blabbered on about duty, honour and loyalty. Tsk tsk, so serious and boring" Dany said, rolling her eyes and trying to mimic her brother's monotonous voice and failing, miserably, which bought a smile to Sansa's lips. "And now, look at him. Off to plan a coronation for the future Queen. None of that brooding mysterious personality anymore..always looked like he was having a midlife crisis didnt he?" Dany said, frowning in disgust, pouting.Sansa couldn't help but agree, though, was she bad mouthing her own boyfriend? What was she getting at?

"If I could get someone like him to be a bit more relaxed and calm, I bet I could loosen you up too" she said, grinning from ear to ear, her eyes gleaming and the distance between them dangerously closing as ever second passed. Sansa could feel her heart thumping so hard against her chest, like a bird fluttering in a cage, fighting to break free. Was she suggesting...

It was beyond flirting at that point. It was a bare, direct invitation. It was Sansa's turn to stare and stay still, not able to recover from the shock. Say no. Walk away. Maybe she's joking. Laugh and take her hand off your lap. Her hand on my lap..so soft and warm..and so dangerously close..

But she didn't move. As every second passed, Dany's triumphant grin grew wider. She bent and took a huge jug, which was half filled, and emptied it's contents into her mouth, the drink dripping down her chiseled jaw, making it's way down her neck. Sansa's soft eyes followed the wet trail and she gulped. As Dany finished her drink, she stood up, stumbling for a second before she laughed and held the table for support. She pulled Sansa by the hand and started walking out of the Great hall.

The crowd in the vast hall did not seem to thin, the people jesting and drinking and puking, forgetting the time that passed, forgetting their duties and their responsibilities. Everyone was so preoccupied that noone noticed the Dragon Queen stumbling towards her chambers, with the lady of winterfell following her like an enchanted puppy, forgetting all honour and modesty. Winter might have passed, but someone else was definitely coming that night.

[foreverwcnter]

lavender — flowers mini series / peter parker

| teaser | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 |

pairing — peter parker x reader

warnings — none

summary — part 1 in which peter learns that a flower can be more memorable and passionate than the words “I love you.”

author’s note — this is my first mini series so bear with me! this is the first part and I hope you enjoy it! comments and reblogs (w/ comments if you want ) are appreciated but not mandatory.

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a heavy huff left peter’s parted lips as he sprinted down the sidewalk, two burly men running after him. he was simply helping an old lady from being mugged, but apparently that was a foil for the real heist which was the catch peter as spider-man. they had damaged one of his webshooters and managed to stab him in the side with a dagger they had in their grasp. peter hurried, pushing past people without any ‘excuse me’ or ‘sorry’. he was scared and needed to get away from the criminals in pursuit. he panted, trying to catch his breath while sprinting down the road.

“why today of all days??? i’m supposed to go have thai with may” he groaned to himself, dodging into an alley and climbing into a dumpster to hide. surely they wouldn’t find him in there. he wrinkled his nose in disgust, the smell of rotten food and trash flooding his nasal passages. his eyes widened slightly when hearing some voices. quickly, spider-man fell silent, holding his breath in case they could hear it.

“dammit, he’s gone.”

“we’re going to find him. boss won’t let us return empty handed,” the other male stated in his gruff and deep voice.

peter heard their footsteps grow to a silence as the men walked away and he carefully hopped out of the dumpster, stumbling over his feet, falling against the concrete ground. his side ached and he needed to treat the wound before he bled out slowly or caught an infection. the wound wasn’t too big, but it wasn’t small either. the red spandex of his suit was torn, revealing the wound as the crimson liquid stained his suit and skin. his enhanced healing abilities would help it heal faster, but it was obvious he needed stitches he looked around, his gaze drifting around the area. there was a fire escape and he assumed he was next to an apartment building. spider-man carefully began climbing up the rusty steps, going slowly so he didn’t tire himself out anymore than he already was.

finally, he reached the top, tripping over the ledge and falling against the floor of the roof. he sighed in relief, beginning to push himself up with his bruised arms as he reached up to rip his mask off his head. finally when yanking it off, letting it fall to the ground, he stood up, looking around until his eyes landed on a beautiful young woman, standing beside a garden bed in the multiple rows of plants.

his eyes widened in surprise and he froze. it may have looked like he froze for the shock of someone seeing him without his mask, but it was because the girl standing several feet away from him was absolutely stunning. he was asking himself who this stunning young woman was. that young woman was you.

you had been watering your flowers right before the spider-man had appeared on the roof. you were watering your lavender plants to be exact, ones in which you planted only moments before. the purple buds would get plenty of sunshine on the roof top, along with the many other flowers that were planted in the garden. half of the rows that were built for the garden were covered with a mesh covering to provide some shade for the plants that did not receive full sun. each flower, each stem, each leaf was healthy from your gentle hands. you even had a separate garden in a separate area of the roof for growing foods that you often used to cook.

when peter pulled off his mask and saw you, you already had been staring, not expecting spider-man, the friendly neighborhood spider-man to show up at your apartment building. carefully brushing a strand of hair from your face, you set down the watering can on the frame of the garden, turning to face the youthful superhero. as you observed his features, you couldn’t help but notice a gash on his side where the unmistakable suit was torn. you began,” do you need help with that wound? i don’t think you would want it to get infected.”

“what? oh, that,” peter began, looking down at the gash and wincing at the sight. it wasn’t worst thing he’s gotten, but wasn’t the easiest thing to treat. “i guess, i ran out of antibiotic ointment a week ago so-“

“sit down,” you ordered, pulling off your gardening gloves and setting them on the wooden planks that lined the rows of your garden. you made your way over to a facet that was connected to the stairway and carefully rinsed off your hands. you shook the water droplets from your delicate hands before grabbing a first aid kit you had in your gardening supply.

peter watched you, gulping slightly as you made your way over to him. you sat down beside him and than stated,” you need to take off the top part of your suit.” peter’s cheeks flushed a deep red and he pressed the spider emblem on his chest, loosing the skin-tight spandex before letting it slip off his arms and torso, falling against his legs and around his waist.

you seemed fairly unfazed by the sight of his identity and his toned chest and abs. secretly, you found him to be handsome and even cute, but that didn’t get in the way of your calm demeanor and care for him. carefully you squeezed out some anti-biotic ointment onto your soft hands before rubbing it over the wound gently, making sure not to hurt him. instinctively, peter hissed in pain, knitting his eyebrows together from the stinging sensation. “sorry,” you mumbled gently before grabbed some stitching supply from the first aid kit.

“the wound is a little too deep for me to simply bandage, but luckily my mother is a surgeon and taught me how to do stitches in case of emergencies,” you briefly explained the the awkward superhero before gently pulling the needle through his skin, carefully closing the wound up before finishing off. blood had dried on your hands and under your fingernails, but it was nothing hydrogen peroxide couldn’t fix. you rose to a standing position, looking over spider-man as he pulled his suit over his torso.

“thank you,” he began, staring at you with his mocha brown eyes. “umm... since you... since you’ve seen my face... i’m peter parker.”

a smile lit up your delicate features. “i’m y/n l/n. i’m homeschooled by my dad so you probably won’t see me at any schools.”

peter was in complete awe when staring at you. your eyes seemed to be the actual embodiment of light. they weren’t dull, but bright and full. the way the light hit them took note of the silver and gold flecks in your e/c eyes. he had to clench his jaw slightly to keep it from dropping. your hair fell perfectly against your shoulders and was pushed behind your ear perfectly. you had the cutest smile on your face. it was an awkward one, but you made awkward look really adorable.

“um... so you’re a gardener?” he gazed around at the assortment of many, many differnt plants around the rooftop. your cheek flushed slightly in response.

“yeah, i guess you could say gardening is my hobby. i really love flowers and plants and i have ever since i was a toddler,” you explained, rubbing the back of your neck nervously.

peter couldn’t help but blush at what he was about to say,” well, i think this is a best garden i’ve ever seen.”

“really?!” your face lit up with joy and pride at the compliment. “i’ve worked years on making this garden perfect. just ask my neighbors, they’ll tell you i come up here for hours to take care of all the plants.”

peter felt his lips twitch with a small smile once again, his admiration for you and how passionate you were only growing. never had he met someone so passionate for things so small and simple. he could only imagine how bad it would feel if a bad storm came by and ruined the poor flowers. he stood up from where he sat, gazing over each plant. his thoughts were interrupted by your honeyed voice.

“did you know you can speak using flowers?”

his eyebrow arched in confusion and he shook his head in response. now he was even more curious than before.

“well, i did some research and there is something called floriography. it’s basically the language of flowers. i’ve done a lot of studying on it and every flower, every plant, has a special meaning that can tell someone something. if you ever can’t say something verbally, i find using flowers and plants is a way you can do that.” you gently bent down, running your hand delicately against your lavender plants. “for example, lavender, can be used to express solitude or admiration.”

admiration. the exact thing he was feeling towards you at that moment. while you felt the solitude meaning of it, he felt the admiration. he admired you so much for being so beautiful, so passionate, so gentle, so kind, so bright. you looked on the positive side of things. for once, he didn’t want to go swing through the streets. he wanted to talk to you more and get to know you.

“can i have your number?” he blurted out before quickly shutting his mouth, his face turning as red as his suit. “i-i mean i’d like to be friends with you and get to know you... you seem like an amazing person.”

a smile graced your face. “ of course.” you walked over, taking his phone which he held out to you. the screen was already opened to his contacts. you quickly typed in your information, before saying, “ i’ll shoot you a text later, i left my phone in my room so i don’t want to hold you up by running to go get it.”

he smiled at you, zoning out for a second, notching you had a small flower tucked behind your ear. his lips twitched a little from the smile, but he soon came back to reality at the sound of sirens. “i’ve got to go see if someone needs help, i’ll see you later i guess?” he awaited your response.

“sounds good to me. see you later, spider-man,” you teased before watching him swing off.

as peter flew through the city, swinging by his webs, he couldn’t help but think back on what you said. the lavender had seemed to reveal what he felt for you and to be honest, peter wanted to know more and couldn’t wait to tell ned all about the experience and to speak to you once again.

↳ taglist — @hey-its-grey @natalia-rushman @glimmering-gamora @lovesick-valkyrie @pufflypuffle @uglypastels @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @spidermansmj14 @simi11 @abby-blxck @lovelyh0lland @bbyaubergine @pxterbpxrker

[the-masked-author]

BENT NECK LADY

Clue 8: Final Thoughts

Tales: you’re standing in front of the prettiest tapestry you’ve ever seen. it’s right in front of you and you’re so close to it. you’ve been staring at it for 20 minutes and every single time you move your eyes from one specific spot, you find something new. something you hadn’t seen before. the level of detail is insanity; it feels like you could reach out and grab the hand of every single figure sewn into it. the fabric version of a 4k film, so close you can see the clumps of mascara on their eyelashes. it’s almost too much for you to handle, so you take a step back and then another. then another. and as you move you start to see the thing as a whole, see how each of those beautiful little details comes together to form the tapestry as a whole. it’s so much work. an insane amount of work. you’re in awe. then you read the placard next to it and find out its creator had one week to make it and you lose all sense of meaning and reality. that’s Tales the Cat. that’s every single thing she’s written for this competition. the detail, the dedication, the overall beauty of the thing. it’s inspiring. it’s intimidating as hell. we’re so lucky to be able to peruse her work in this museum that let us all in for free. Poppy: do you remember that one kid you knew in elementary school that was always painting pictures, always making up stories, always excelling at literally everything you couldn’t? that no one seemed to be able to do in just the same way? i remember that kid. maybe you do too. maybe you were that kid, i don’t know. but i can tell you right now that Poppy Hill is this fandom’s version of that kid. i am blinded time and again by the literally starlight that shoots out of the screen when i read her work. she has more creativity and originality in 1000 words than Stephen King has managed to fit in his entire body of work. it’s astounding, truly magnificent. and she’s so humble to boot! we’re so lucky she chooses to spend her free time creating worlds for us.

[crushedbyhyperbole]

Psycho Killer - Chapter One

Fandom:  Borderlands 2

Pairing:  Krieg/Maya

Word Count: 5613

Chapters:  4

Warnings:  Violence, blood and gore, smut.

Summary: Maya meets Krieg.  There’s explosions, blood, death and desperation.  And a happy ending.

Author’s Note:  Inspired by and adapted from the Borderlands 2 intro, and taking aspects from Krieg’s intro video (A Meat Bicycle Made for Two), and gameplay. I fell in love with Maya and Krieg whilst reading other Maya/Krieg works, they’re just so raw!

You can Read this work on Archive Of Our Own.

Chapter One:  Meet the Meat.

Days on Pandora were long. Longer than on Athenas anyway. And it was hot.  Too damn hot.

In this godforsaken place there was scarcely a proper night.  It was rare to say the least, only happening for a few rotations once a cycle, when Pandora’s two suns were aligned and would sink below the horizon granting a boon of darkness.

Why had she even come here?

Oh, right, yeah.

She murdered her guardian, toppled the monastic Order of the Impending Storm – whom had raised her, and threw her whole planet into discord.  After that, the only obvious solution was to run.

Becoming a vault hunter was easy. She said so, and was believed - no proof required.

She hopped on a transport freighter to another star system and vanished.

Pandora was rumoured to be home to many Eridian vaults.

Here, she aimed to make her fortune, learn about her origins, and kill bad guys; after all, she was born equipped.

None of it had been as easy as she thought.

Her desired fortune hadn’t come; people on Pandora looked to vault hunters to right the wrongs done to them, and those kinds of jobs didn’t pay well, if at all.

That was her current predicament.

Sat on a worn-down bench at the Wasteland Station, in the shade of the busted-up canopy, Maya contemplated all the fucked up decisions that had brought her right here, right now.

It had been the right thing to do, rebelling against The Order.

Sophis, her guardian, had groomed her into becoming the face of death for Athenasians who failed to obey.

They all feared her.

At first she liked the power, thrived on it.  Some part of her still craved that control.  But not like that, not killing innocents.  Maya wasn’t about that life any more.  But she wasn’t about protecting the weak either.  Sure, she’d kill bad guys for a bit of cash or a decent looking piece of equipment, but being a hero…?

Nahhh.

Pandora’s two suns beat down on the Arids relentlessly.  Heat shimmering in the distance looked like water.  Tempting her.  She had 1 health vial left, a small one.  If the train didn’t come soon, she would likely die from dehydration.  There was nothing around, no skags or rakks even to grant her a second wind if she collapsed.  There wasn’t even a Fast Travel, not that she could afford it.

Along the side of the track she saw movement. It was too dark to be a shimmer, too slow to be a vehicle, and too big to be a skag.

She stood, scoping her SMG for a better view.

“Is that… a psycho?”  She frowned.

Moments later, sure enough, cresting a rise in the rough landscape, was a psycho.   He was huge, more like a badass, but the proportions were all wrong.

Well, shit!

Maya kept her sights trained on the approaching hulk.  He was still too far away for her SMG to be effective.  At this point, she regretted selling her sniper for the train ticket north.

The psycho was sauntering, if that’s even something you could put in a sentence to describe psychos.  Swinging his buzzaxe casually as he walked, he seemed to have not a care in the world.  He tossed the axe in the air a few times, letting it spin above him before catching it by the handle, easy as you please.  He saw her, stopping dead just out of range, staring, axe idle by his side.

She jumped down the steps, landing in the dust with an ‘ooomph’.  There was no hesitation, she let rip, static charges crackling wherever her bullets struck. She absolutely had to take him down at a distance or she might not survive the encounter.  There were no funds for a reconstruction, it’d be game over for her.

The psycho dodged, weaving side to side, taking a few bullets but not enough to do any real damage.  He slid behind a boulder, muttering to himself.

Each time he peeked around the boulder she shot at him.  Maybe if she could keep him there until the train came then she’d jump on and escape safely.  There was no telling how long that would be, the trains came with no regularity, and she doubted she had enough bullets to last.

During a reload the Psycho screamed a battle cry and ran at her.  She got her SMG up fast enough to scatter him off course, making him dive down onto the dirt, raging in frustration.

“TURN AROUND, PRETTY LADY!”  He bellowed.

For a second she thought it was a ploy to distract her but suddenly she felt exposed.   Reeling around she saw a group of bandit rats that had crawled out from under the station floor supports.  She’d completely missed that.  One was running at her, too close to bring her gun up, too quickly for her to make a run for it.

Whumph!  The sickeningly wet crushing sound of a skull being split filled her ears.  The warm splash of blood on her face almost went unnoticed as she watched the bandit pitched sideways into the dirt, a huge buzzaxe protruding from the broken face.

“TEAR THE FLESH!”

Startled, she saw the psycho rushing into the frey, shotgun raised and firing.

The psycho had thrown his axe to save her.

Maybe he just missed you.

“BOOMTIME!”  He screamed as explosives detonated in the group, scattering body parts all over him.

Maya quickly took down several of the rats nearby, the shocks sparkling through their prone bodies.  By now there was no one left alive, the psycho had shredded them all.

“BLUE LADY MAKES CHRISTMAS MEAT!” He laughed maniacally, cackling behind his mask.

She kept her SMG aimed at him, but there was no sign of hostility.  He merely looked at her with his one bloodshot eye, twitching and restless from his exertions.

Movement behind him drew her eye. A survivor was crawling out from under a pile of other dead rats, his blade raised to strike the psycho.  She could let him do it, but something in her said ‘save him.’

Her power was weak, but she had enough to deal with one rat.  The phase-lock took instantly, lifting him up in a blue ball of energy.  Twisting and screaming, he crumpled inside her field.  Dead.

She felt the moment he passed, like a sudden breeze of cool air against damp skin at the nape of her neck.  She shivered and dropped the body.

“Who are you?”  She asked, narrowing her eyes to meet the psycho’s one-eyed stare.

He was all rippling muscles and scars. Crude iron armour adorned one arm and one leg, he had bandages haphazardly wrapped around other parts of his limbs.  He wore only pants, a makeshift harness and a modified psycho mask with a bulky filter.

He seemed to consider her question before shouting.  “I’M THE CONDUCTOR OF THE POOP TRAIN!”.  Jubilantly he waved his buzzaxe in the air.

“Sure.”  Maya couldn’t help but smirk.  For a psycho he had remarkable control and even seemed to understand her.  He’s different.  “Thanks for the help.”

Her voice had always been kind of flat, it went well with her sarcastic inclinations.  She knew her gratefulness came across as insincere, it always did, but she figured the nuance would be lost on him anyway.

“SHUT UP!”  He screamed, smacking himself in the side of the head a couple of times.  “PRETTY LADY MAKES GOOD PAIN!”

Putting her SMG away, she extended a hand to him.  “Maya.” She said.  “My name is Maya.”

The psycho looked like he was going to shake her hand, extending his gingerly, but instead he slapped hers away, cackling.

Well fuck you then.  Asshole.

“MEAT BYCICLE KRIEG!”  He shouted at her, continuing to laugh until he was bent over coughing harshly.  He lifted his mask ever so slightly to spit blood into the dirt.

As quickly as it had come, her limited view of his face was gone.  His mouth kind of looked normal, his jaw strong and smooth.  There was no visible hair on him at all and she found herself wondering if it had been a result of the experiments he’d undoubtedly undergone, or whether it was a conscious choice.  Did he shave?

“Your name is Krieg?”  She watched him toeing an obviously interesting piece of dead bandit as if it held the secrets of creation.  “Pleasure’s all yours I guess.”  She said sardonically, huffing down in the shade again.

Now we wait.

Continue to Chapter Two.

[ilcaeryx]

Limelight: Chapter 2 [Bakugou Katsuki/Reader]

SUMMARY: In their ingenuity, villains spurred the competence and excellence of heroes with unexpected consequences. Before, most heroes could focus solely on combating villany and make a living out of it. Today, a well-established hero is multifunctional: a protector, entertainer and idol in one person. Engaging the public the way a celebrity would is a common strategy, leaving the tabloid industry flourishing and eager to make a killing.

Number 2 hero Bakugou "Ground Zero" Katsuki refuses to indulge others' fantasties... though he'll make an exception for you.

TAGS: Reader-Insert, Idol-like Heroes, Friends to Lovers, Romance, Vacation, Long-Distance Relationship, Hero Dating Civilian, Influences from K-pop, Comedy, Aged-Up Character(s), Idol Variety

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: Clickbait

Okay, the last sentence in the prologue was definitely hyperbolic; a 'device' (if you can even call it that) utilized by the 'author' (read: barely sentient being) to introduce a spark of curiosity in the readers. In the fast-paced modern world there's little time to waste in reading about one singular event when these interconnected societies over the globe cause hundreds, if not thousands of events. More often than not, the reader will stop mid-scrolling and raise an eyebrow over a particularly bizarre occurrence. If you want the entire 0,5% of a person's daily attention-span, an ounce of deception will do the trick.

  In my case, if I've played my cards right, that last sentence interested you and hopefully you'll remember it some fifteen chapters from now. I guarantee you it'll happen.

We're all in agreement that clickbait and hyperbole are trashy ways of spreading news and that many events undeservingly receive more attention than they should. After all, at times those titles prove to be downright false.

  However, it wouldn't be completely untrue to state that clickbait and hyperbole forced Bakugou Katsuki out of his residence into a bullet train speeding southwards late at night. Knowing Katsuki, there's no way he'd ever admit to it either. He never had cared much in keeping appearances, admittedly, yet there was something intimately disturbing in acknowledging that the constant pursuing of the tabloid writers bothered him. It was not a confession he would bring up to anyone. Not Kirishima, not his parents nor coworkers.

  Much like any other young adult in this era, Katsuki repeatedly turned the screen of his phone on and off with such compulsion and fervor that would impress professional Guitar Hero players. His phone was new and barely customized, which is why he constantly had to swipe away the existence of every NEWSFLASH: HERO X DID Y announcement that popped up on his home-screen. Earlier today a severe flood had forced a platoon of heroes into action and his phone had gone absolutely batshit. Honestly, who gave a fuck? Unless you lived there, it wasn't necessary. Once he had settled into his vacation house, he would uninstall whichever app was responsible.

  Until then, he'd just keep it off. No one would call him this early.

  Those motherfuckers. How'd they find me?

  If it hadn't been for the weak dawnlight catching the lenses of the cameras, Katsuki would have dismissed the shantily clad trio as tourists. Bathing in sunlight by the train-station exit, the human leeches held their big-ass cameras like they were their first-born child. Quite literally cradling their ticket to a paycheck.

  Question was if he originally was their target or if they were snooping around for another celebrity.

  Katsuki slowly pulled up his dark hoodie over his hair and re-adjusted his plain mouth mask, making sure it reached half-way up his nose. He wouldn't see shit with sunglasses on, so he didn't bother picking them out of his jacket pocket. It was fucking annoying to walk around clad like a rapist or a robber, but rough clothes together with an aggressive stride usually kept people away. The last thing he needed was any exposure at all - he wanted to lay low. A gathering of paparazzi around his vacation house together with fans or curious people would be an unfortunate test of patience.

  Fuck, that would probably destroy his career at this point.

  Walking through the open-air train-station while staying undercover felt contradictory, like a gazelle hiding in plain sight. As he passed by the unmentionables, he repeatedly convinced himself that it wasn't him they were after. He walked too fast to hear anything properly, though he didn't hear any camera shutters, which pleased him. By the time he had boarded the small bus to the village, the nitroglycerine that coated his palms had soaked through his bus ticket.

 Shirahagi village was fine, he guessed.

  In reality, it was an overgrown, chaotic mess exposed to the weather; blooming vegetation and simple houses were clustered in an irregular fashion, creating a labyrinth of low visibility and shadows. The main road that led from the lackluster bus-station downhill ended in a smaller plaza, he could see. Part of the village was completely submerged under the dense tree-crowns, from his view on top of the hill. Wherever his place was, he couldn't tell.

  A succinct summary: it was an utter clusterfuck.

  Katsuki knew that somewhere in these tangled roads there was a mom-and-pops-style grocery store. Hell, it was possibly small enough that he would devour their entire sortiment in the two weeks he was to spend here.

  Other than that, he didn't know shit. Prior to yesterday afternoon, he had never heard of Shirahagi. Through a game of telephone, one of his old ex-classmates (that he didn't remember at all, coincidentally) spoke to another and so on until Alien Girl messaged him to check it out yesterday. She had written that it was a pretty cool place but he suspected that she either had ties to the old lady that offered to rent out a house in an extremely short notice or that she had misheard the name.

  It seemed like a calm and desolate place, so he had struck a deal.

  For now, this was all he needed.

   Obscured behind a crescent-shaped road was the old lady's house. In contrast to the untamed flora towering above it, the residence was a well-polished gemstone; the hedges were neatly cut, the facade in decent shape and it seemed like the walls wouldn't cave in from a slight breeze. Frankly, it'd be worth the money if his house was similar.

  Not that appearance particularly mattered, but he didn't want to freeze to death in case of broken walls or windows or whatever.

  A back curved by age was hovering above a flowerbed, knees digging into the ground. Mrs Takahashi. Katsuki let go of his luggage and held onto the metal fence, inclining himself over it.

  "Lady!" he said, voice loud and clear. "I'm Katsuki, the guy that called yesterday. I'm here for the vacation house."

  Mrs Takahashi struggled to stand up, using her hands to push herself back on two feet. Her legs shook enough that Katsuki tensed his shoulders.

  "I was wondering when you would drop around," Mrs Takahashi shuffled around, removing her gardening gloves by the fingertips. The old lady had a weathered face, like a granite wall cracking up, and she didn't look too impressed as she eyed him. Perhaps she didn't recognize him.

  Katsuki shrugged lightly, not knowing what to say.

  "My hearing isn't what it used to be anymore; I could barely hear you over the phone. New technology these days, they don't make anything like they oughtta." Mrs Takahashi walked up to him, reaching out her palm towards him. Oddy enough, Katsuki impression of her was beetle-like. With her back bent over, the purple wool jacket was kind of like her carapace. Her head and neck were sunken towards her chest and her limbs were slim, like those of an insect.

  In fact, he was calling it now. Her Quirk definitely had something to do with beetles, or at least insects in general.

  She harkled her throat and wriggled her fingers. Katsuki pressed his lips and reluctantly reached out to shake her hand. When he grasped her hand it simply remained limpless, a sloppy, unenthusiastic welcome to Shirahagi.

"I don't want your hand, son, I want your identification. My niece and nephew have told me all about these scammers that are going around nowadays."

  His eyes narrowed very slightly.

  I see how it's gonna be.

  This could turn out nasty, he thought as he retrieved his ID out of his wallet, handling it to her. Everyone had a short description of their Quirks along with the usual information on their ID-cards. Even if she didn't know about his profession, the Quirk description 'secretes nitroglycerine through perspiration and ignites it into explosions' was uncommon. It wasn't hard to find out the name of a hero just by searching for a Quirk description.

  Mrs Takahashi seemed at peace, at least. A mild humm erupted from her and she gave him the ID back.

  He quickly put it away in his wallet.

  "Be mindful of the attic," she said and dangled a key in front of him. "If I hear you've harassed my ghosts you'll end up regretting it."

  After this poor display of social interaction, he could finally move into his vacation house.

  Thus began Bakugou Katsuki's two day barricade against all of Shirahagi and the only objectively safe and correct choice he made the next 6 months.

If you liked this, consider throwing me a like/reblog/follow!

[imagine-loki]

Monsters and Magic

TITLE: Monsters and Magic

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 20/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine you’re a vampire who helps the Avengers defeat an evil seethe of other vampires, and Loki befriends you after you end up in their custody

RATING: T (so far)

NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 click here

     The room was quiet, too quiet and the shocked silence drew your attention, Stark’s as well. Your tortured mind automatically jumped to the conclusion that you were being attacked, that there was some danger. You let go of Tony and stood, turning to face the room as you rubbed your arm across your face, drying your tears roughly, drawing a thin blade from the sheath hidden at the small of your back in one quick movement, standing in front of Tony to defend him, even as he stood too, placing his sarcastic mask back in place, pretending nothing had happened.

    You looked around the room for the attack, the danger, but everyone was just staring at your group, even as they came over to you, as if the danger were in your little group. Tony was safe behind you, so you looked to Loki who seemed sad that your instinct had changed after what you’d been through with Hydra. You’d never been a fighter by inclination or training, until Hydra had fucked up your brain and tortured you into doing their will.

     Your mouth fell open and your blade clanged to the floor when you saw Mjolnir in Loki’s hand. “What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, raising his hands to hug you, or somehow reassure you over whatever you were staring at. It was then that he finally saw the hammer in his hand and realized what he had done. He let out a yelp of surprise as he dropped the hammer to the floor as if it had burned him. “What in Valhalla?” he demanded, shocked and confused.

    The room erupted into a shocked chorus of “He’s worthy?” They had all made it over to you and saw up close that Loki had in fact been holding Mjolnir.

    Thor clapped Loki on the shoulder. “I knew you were worthy, Brother!” he boomed, overjoyed and proud. Loki just looked at him confused. He was over a thousand years old and had never once been worthy of holding Mjolnir.

    Loki flushed nearly purple under the praise. “It was a fluke,” he protested as the situation finally got through your brain. You grinned at him and wrapped you arms around his neck. His arm went automatically around your waist, holding you close to him.

    “I knew it too, Lokes,” you praised warmly. You knew how much it would mean to Loki to actually be worthy, once he got over his shock. Poor baby was shocked so much twice in one morning. Plus you’d nearly died. It was a rough morning all around.

    “I knew the hammer thing was a trick. Only the worthy? Pfft, it’s only the Asgardians,” Stark grumped. He was always pissy about not being able to lift Mjolnir. He had definitely put back on his sarcasm and jokes to pretend nothing happened and no one had seen him cry. It was definitely typical behavior for him.

    “What’s the big deal? It’s just a hammer,” Bucky demanded and bent to pick up the hammer, while keeping himself a safe distance away from Stark, figuring correctly that Stark wasn’t going to like him quickly after today’s revelation. He tried to lift the hammer anyway, except Mjolnir stayed firmly on the ground.

    “Only those who are ‘worthy’,” you made air quotes since no one really knew exactly what it was that made someone worthy or not “are able to lift the hammer,” you explained to the confused Bucky. You kissed the confused shocked Loki and let him go, standing on your own two feet again.

    Thor picked up the hammer and turned it so the inscription shone where Bucky could read the ‘Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor’ inscription.

    “More magic,” Bucky growled, exasperated with his life becoming filled with so much magic.

    “It was just a fluke to save my lady,” Loki said softly, too shocked for anything else. He pulled you to his side as if for comfort. Poor baby was so shocked, he’d never once been worthy. Thor silently turned the hammer and handed it to Loki handle first. Loki took it without thinking and seemed surprised when the hammer didn’t immediately fall to the ground. He just stared at it.

    Poor Loki getting the shit shocked out of him twice in one morning.

    “Fluke, huh?” Nat teased, seeming just as proud of Loki for holding the hammer.

    Thor kindly took Mjolnir back from Loki and clapped his shoulder again. “I knew you’d be worthy someday, Brother,”

    “Y’know what? This is bizzaro world and I’ve had enough of it for one morning,” Tony announced. “Way too many revelations for me on no sleep. I’m going to go close my eyes and hope the universe makes more sense this afternoon,” he announced and started to head for the elevator. His eyes were still red and you had the feeling he’d be sorting through, or shoving down, his emotions properly when he was alone. “Danger Noodle, can you and the kid fix whatever they did to her brain? I need her and her brain back in my lab and would prefer the interns don’t knock her out by using her nickname when they flirt with her,” Tony teased, still pretending nothing had happened. Of course he was.

    “Danger Noodle? What flirting interns?” Loki demanded, focusing on something besides Thor’s stupid hammer.

    “Danger Noodle is a stupid name the internet came up with for snakes. The interns are silly kids,” you explained quickly as you got out of his embrace. You had no interest in the interns, they were silly lab boys who tried to show off until you ran circles around them and they shut up.

    Loki sighed heavily, but at least seemed back on firm ground. “Another stupid nickname, Stark?” he sighed. “But yes, we will work on fixing those stupid words for Y/N or Sargant Barnes. We can only work on one at a time…” Loki reminded them.

    “Whichever one of them loses the ‘no you get fixed first’ contest?” Nat suggested, teasing you and Bucky for being self-sacrificing idiots.

    “Can it Natal’ka,” Bucky growled. He turned to Loki. “Whatever Striga says, fix her first,” he added just as firmly.

    “Buck-” you protested. He’d been broken longer and needed fixed more.

    “Kid, you’re outnumbered. No offense to Barnes, but we’re all going to insist boyfriend’s efforts go to fixing you first,” Clint reminded you. You opened your mouth to protest again, but the entire team gave you the same look, reminding you that you were very much outnumbered.

    “Buck, you’re sure?” you asked. He nodded, then seemed to realize something. He rushed to you and wrapped his metal arm around you, his other hand going over your eyes.

    “Shit, the light’s coming in. We’ve gotta get you out of here,” Bucky told you urgently as he moved to shield you from the sun with his body.

    “Relax, Buck. Let me go before Loki stabs you,” you told Bucky gently, keeping your voice relaxed. You heard the ‘shing’ of a blade. “Lokes, don’t kill Bucky for trying to protect me from the sun,” you added in Loki’s general direction. “Seriously, Buck, Stark redid all of the windows in the tower so I won’t be hurt by the sun through them. It’s ok,” Bucky slowly let you go.

    “Thanks for your concern, Buck, but I’m safe in the tower,” you told him warmly and took a step away from him.

    Loki moved possessively closer to you and handed you your slim blade back, hilt first. “You dropped this, kitten,” he told you warmly as you took it from him and resheathed it. He leaned down to kiss you, tilting your head up with his fingers under your chin. You saw him watch Bucky while he did. He was making sure his claim was well-staked.

    Bucky huffed. “I have no romantic interest in your girl, Odinson,” he told Loki. Bucky was an army-man too and tended to use people’s last names, at least when he was thinking clearly.

    Loki nodded and smirked at Bucky over your head. “Have to make sure, Sergeant,” he replied with a Cheshire cat grin. Loki, like Thor, tended to be overly polite and use people’s titles as a form of address.

    “With that excitement, I’m off to bed too,” Nat told you warmly. She, Stark, and Clint, and Thor gave up and headed to the elevator to get a nap in and see if the world made more sense when they woke.

    “Where’d ‘kitten’ come from?” you asked Loki as you walked with him back to your couch. You weren’t tired yet, you’d been unconscious for hours. Cap and Bucky went to their couch to go over old memories or what had been done to Bucky.

    “You reminded me of a little kitten all fluffed up in anger with her tiny needle claws out, when you were defending Stark,” he teased. You were tiny and your blade was thin, it was a natural, if annoying, conclusion.

    You huffed and rolled your eyes. “Whatever you say, Noodle,” you teased him right back.

    “I deserved that,” he replied and moved to sit cross-legged on the couch facing you. “Ready to get started?” he asked. You hesitated, knowing this would suck, but turned to mirror his pose and nodded. Loki placed his hands palm up in front of him and you placed your hands on top of his. You both closed your eyes and a shimmer of green magic appeared around you both as warning to everyone else that you and Loki were playing with magic so they wouldn’t interrupt.

    Loki tapped politely on your mind’s shielding and waited for you to open your mind to him before he would dream of entering your mind. He was ever so polite and didn’t touch anything that was private. All he looked for was the trigger words, how they were put there, and how to get rid of them. He saw all you’d been through with Hydra and you felt his sorrow at it, but knew he needed to know in order to figure out how to fix what they’d done to you. /I’m going to start with this one/ he indicated the ‘hugin’ command. It was the most dangerous. He showed you what he needed you to do and you worked together to remove the damn command from your mind. You tried to help him, but you couldn’t after the first attempt, he literally had to cut the commands away from the word and there were no words for how much it hurt when he did it. It took all your concentration not to break the connection, not to throw him from your mind.

    You couldn’t keep your body from keening in pain. Bucky and Cap both ran over. “Shit. More magic. I can’t fix magic,” Bucky’s voice.

    “Do not interrupt,” Loki’s voice was distant, distracted, toneless. “It will not hurt when we do the same for you”

    /I’m sorry, darling, I’m sorry/ Loki’s mental voice was heartbroken as he worked.

    /Fix it, please!/ you begged him.

    /I am, dearheart/

    *

    You finally came back to your body hours later, panting, exhausted, and your head ached like the worst migraine you’d ever had in med school. You blinked quickly, trying to focus your eyes. Loki was looking just as drained. He recovered faster, though, he was stronger than you magically. He smiled warmly at you. “Well done, darling, but you need to rest now. It’s noon and past bedtime for sleepy little vampires,”

    He was right, but… “I don’t want to be alone,” you admitted softly.

    “Come here, little one,” he bid you, opening his arms to you. You slid across the couch and curled yourself in his arms. He wrapped a blanket around you and settled you safely in his lap, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. “I have you, sweetheart, you’re safe,” he told you warmly and kissed your forehead.

    “Love you,” you murmured in an exhausted whimper.

    “I love you more than anything, kitten,” he replied warmly.

    “Noodle,” you murmured.

    “Danger Noodle,” he corrected and then shook his head in exasperation at having accepted the new nickname. “Go to sleep, little one,” he bid you warmly, with loving exasperation.

    *

    When you woke, you were lying on the couch a pillow under your head, and the blanket still over you. You rolled over and made a soft noise, wondering where Loki had gone. “Down here, sweetheart,” Loki told you. You rolled over and looked down and saw him and Bucky sitting on the floor on either side of the coffee table next to the couch a chessboard on the table between them.

    You sat up slowly and wrapped the blanket around your shoulders. “You must be a glutton for punishment, Buck,” you teased, clearly seeing that Loki was kicking his ass again.

    “At least I’m not losing to a bird this time,” Bucky replied. “You know how to play, Striga?” he asked after he’d made his move.

    You nodded. “I’ve only been playing a few months, though,” you replied innocently.

    “I will stop toying with the army-man and beat him quickly so you can play, darling,” Loki told you with a Cheshire cat grin.

    “You’ve been toying with me?” Bucky growled. Poor baby thought he’d been holding his own. Loki inclined his head with a smirk and beat Bucky within three moves. You switched places with Loki and sat on the other side of the chessboard. Loki sat behind you and rubbed your shoulders. “You better not let boyfriend help you,” Bucky teased.

    “I promise,” you replied. You looked up at Loki. “Behave,” you told him firmly. He drew a cross over his heart with a long finger. You rolled your eyes at his silliness and turned your attention to the game.

    “HOW?” Bucky demanded not terribly long later when you’d kicked his ass.

    You shrugged innocently. “Beginner’s luck?” you suggested. He gave you a look, but set up the board again. He glared at you when you beat him the second time and burst into laughter when you had. “Loki taught me to play,” you explained, modestly.

    “Barnes, you seriously tried to play chess against my sestrichka?” Nat asked as she passed through to grab a bottle of water from the kitchen. She’d obviously been downstairs in the training room. “You do know she’s crazy smart and was taught to play by Loki, right? He’s the only one who can beat her,”

    Bucky sighed and stood, gesturing to Loki to take his place. “Are you up to one more round, sweetheart?” Loki asked you. You nodded and set up the board while he folded himself on the other side of the coffee table. You and Loki both closed your eyes when the board was set up.

    “More magic?” Bucky sighed, watching as pieces just disappeared from their perfect two rows to stand next to the board. You were playing the entire game in your minds and magic. You shouldn’t have been showing off after playing with telepathy all morning, but it was fun.

    Until you had to stop halfway through, clutching your head from the sharp shooting pains in your brain and behind your eyes.

    “Sorry, Lokes,” you whimpered softly as he rushed around the table and turned you to face him, placing his cold fingertips against your temples.

    “Hush, sweetheart. I should have known better than to push after the magic we worked this morning. It’s my fault for forgetting your limits,” he told you softly. You closed your eyes again and moaned in relief as his magic eased the pain.

    You heard footsteps approach, but didn’t dare open your eyes again, even as the pain eased. Loki settled your tinted glasses on your nose. “I thought you were safe in the tower?” Bucky asked, confused over the tinted glasses.

    “I am,” you replied as you and Loki returned to sitting on the couch. He waved his hand at the chessboard and it vanished. “But my eyes are sensitive, so the afternoon light can still sting,” you explained. Bucky nodded, accepting that explanation and you curled up with Loki to watch stupid daytime TV.

    “Brother,” Thor said from behind your couch. Loki looked over the back of the couch. You shifted to look up at Thor too. “Lady,” he greeted you with a head nod. He turned his attention back to Loki. “I have heard back from Father. He wants us to return to Asgard and report on recent events,”

[rason-rodd]

Red Hood and The Outlaws: Loyalty (Chapter 18)

[Read on AO3] [Previous Chapter]

Author’s note: This fan fiction is coming to an end. Only 2 chapters left after this one. In the meantime I would truly appreciate to know what you think about it because I don’t receive many comments. Thx

Chapter 18: Gloria

How could he have done that? He was ashamed. Here, staring at his computer screen. He had violated her secrets. He had violated the secrets of the woman he loved.   But how could she have done that? He was angry. Here, staring at this name. At her real name. she had betrayed him. She had betrayed the man he thought she loved.

[Y/N] STANSON … STANSON…

He knew that name all too well. It had haunted him back in his Robin days. It had destroyed him. It was the name of his first failure. The name of the woman he could not save. The name of the woman who had made him cross the line for the first time.

Gloria Stanson. She was a model, a beautiful young woman with glimmering blue eyes, shining golden hair and a smile to die for. Well, at least, that is how she looked like on the pictures he had seen of her.               The day he met her she was nothing like that. She was broken; her eyes filled with terror, her face and naked body covered with bruises hidden under the sheets of the filthy bed he had raped her in. Felipe Garzonas. Some son of rich diplomat involved in drug traffic and protected by his beloved father.       Jason had thought that he and Batman could bring him to justice but there was no justice for men like Garzonas. And he learned that the hard way.         He learned that when he found Gloria again, in her own room this time, swinging at the end of a rope. Gloria had been like cracked crystal, beautiful but too fragile for this world inhabited by monsters like Felipe Garzonas.      

“What are you doing?” A voice coming from behind him made him jump. [Y/N] was here, wearing one of Jason’s large t-shirts. She looked as if she was ready to fall. Her knees were slightly bent and she was holding to the doorframe.       “[Y/N]. You should be in bed.” Jason immediately said as he ran towards her but she pushed him and approached his desk to have a look at his computer. “ Where did you get this?”             “ Batman gave it to me. When would you have told me?”         She didn’t answer, still staring at her file. Everything was there. From her family record book to her internment at Arkham Asylum.   “ Did you read it all?” She had tears in her eyes.           “When would you have told me?” He repeated. “No. Let me correct it. Would you have told me?” But she ignored him again, and simply asked again, this time, more firmly. “Jay. Did you read it?” “ No. Not down to the very last detail. The beginning was already tough to take in. Now tell me, would you have told me?” She lowered her eyes, ashamed. He took her silence as a no but he wasn’t surprised, just disappointed.“ That’s what I thought”               “ Let me explain!” She tried to scream but her voice was too broken, reduced to a mere croaky pleading.   “ No! I don’t need to hear you don’t trust me. I already know”               “ I do trust you.”               “ Then why?” He was angry but most of all he was sad and hurt. She looked at him with pity and shame. “ My past is not glorious.”             “ Because mine is? I don’t judge you, [Y/N]. I’ve never judged you. On the contrary, I accept you for whoever you are. I just … I just need to hear the truth. What is your story?”       “ I can’t tell you.” She turned away from him and sat down. She couldn’t look at him. Instead, she stood there, still, staring at her tiny pale cold hands.                   Jason wanted to grab them in his, kneeled in front of her. He wanted to whisper a loving and reassuring “Tell me”. Instead he just clenched his fists and jaw and growled “Just fucking tell me and no lies this time.”

She briefly peeked at him, with tears in her grey eyes and after a deep breath she started her story. No more lies.     “ I was born in Gotham from very modest parents. My mum was a mere cashier working her ass off in a convenience store while my father was getting more and more involved in Black Mask’s drug business each day. But I told you that. I had a sister as well: Gloria. She was perfect. I looked up to her. She was beautiful, funny, smart … and way too loyal to our family. When my mother died, my dad got her involved in a cocaine traffic he was working on. He always loved her best and he knew no man could resist her. She was a model after all while I … I was the rebel daughter who still held him responsible for my mother’s death.”             A tear fell along her cheeks as she visualised her dead mother in that armchair, covered in snow, foamy saliva and white powder. “ One day things went terribly bad. My sister had trouble with a guy named Felipe Garzonas.” The name sent shivers back down Jason’s spine. “ The diplomat’s son. He raped your sister. Got away with that.”         “ And she killed herself. Jumped off a chair with a noose around her neck. In my darkest nightmares I can still hear the rope creaking and see her body swinging. But you can relate, right? You found her body and you killed him.”

He didn’t reply, too shocked to say a word. No one knew about that. Not even Batman. He always told him it was an accident. He always said he slipped and fell from the balcony after the young Robin spooked him.                 But the truth is, he did push him. And he could still picture himself doing it, his hands on his chest, catching him by surprise.

“I saw you, at his apartment. I was coming for him too, with a knife in my pocket. You were on the balcony, facing him in your colourful Robin costume and you pushed him over. His body fell. He screamed and hit the ground and you stared at his corpse. You were so angry but I … I was so satisfied… at least for a brief moment. But the truth is, Gloria would have never killed herself if my father hadn’t involved her in this mess.” Jason shivered as he felt where the story was going. “I came back home. My father was here. He was counting dollar bills on the kitchen table as if nothing had happened. He looked at me from head to toes, threw a dress at me and told me “ that should do it””

She made a pause in her story. She hadn’t told anybody about this since the day before they sent her to Arkham. But like that day, the words were like thin needles stabbing her heart and stomach.

“My dad wanted to prostitute me.” She finally managed to say “But I wasn’t my sister. So I told him to fuck off, that I was leaving, that I didn’t want to see him again and that I’d grass him up to the cops. It drove it mad so he caught me by my hair, put me down on the ground and started beating me up. I screamed for help. No one came. I knew he would eventually kill me. So I took the knife that I wanted to use on Garzonas and stabbed him in the stomach. And then the worst happened. My blood began to boil in my veins and my bones broke one by one as if a vice was crushing them slowly. I felt like it lasted hours but the truth is I’m in barely took a couple of minutes.”     “ You turned.”  Jason said calmly and with compassion for the little girl who had lost everything, her mother, her sister, her father …         “ I’ve never felt so much pain. I eventually lost consciousness … or control... I don't know. I wasn’t myself anymore. I was a beast. I still can’t remember what really happened that night but I can still hear my dad screaming for mercy, in pain. When I came back to myself, I was naked on the ground, my [Y/HC] hair had turned white and my father's heart was in my hand as his limbs were scattered all over the living room. I had never seen so much blood. I felt guilty and strangely … sad. I called the GCPD, told them what happened. Even though they saw the paw prints in the room, they found a perfect logical explanation. My neighbour’s German Shepards. I was pleading guilty for my father’s murder and they told me I was a crazy traumatized little girl. “The poor girl is orphan now… I think trauma turned her mad… Perhaps we should send her to Arkham”               “ And you were.”             “ And I was”

That was a lot to take in even for someone like Jason who had heard, seen and experienced so much despite his young years. The entire story, all this was just too much. All the lies were too much. He couldn’t look at her. But, he knew there was more. And he desperately wanted to know. He probably was a masochist.

“ But you escaped. How? What happened back there?”             “ Don’t you remember the fire in Arkham Asylum a couple months after?” Yes, he does. It had destroyed an entire wing of Arkham and the evidence of frame-up along with it. Took days for Batman to truly understand how it happened. “ Yeah. Joker got out again with Firefly’s help.” “ And Bronze Tiger’s.” Jason eyes widened. “ What?” Bronze Tiger wasn’t in Arkham. He would have known. He had seen the inmates list. He could see remember it. “Bronze Tiger. Ben Turner.” And then he understood. “Bronze tiger is your mentor.” He wasn’t a question. Of course he was. What’s better than a shapeshifter to train another shapeshifter.   “He broke me out of Arkham, took me with him to ‘Eth Alth’Eban and I joined the League of Assassins.”

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Jason silently turned his back and clenched his fist so tight his nails almost drew blood from his palm. No she couldn’t! Not that! Not to him!

“ I don’t want to lie anymore, Jason. I’m a murderer. I’ve killed for the League, for Ra’s Al Ghul, for Bronze Tiger. They sent me to Gotham… to find you and bring you back to ‘Eth Alth’Eban.” She thought revealing the truth would ease the burden on her shoulder but she felt terrible. There’s was no freedom in the truth, just an intense loneliness.       “ Are you telling me you tricked me?” Jason managed to say though his voice sounded so broken and miserable.   “ No. I never did it.” She rushed towards him to catch his arm as she noticed he was on the verge of tears. “I refused to do what the League wanted and that’s why Lady Shiva went after me. They still think I’m in their team but …” He pushed her away, without a look. Just with a simple arm move. “Honestly [Y/N] I don’t know if I believe that.” She lowered her eyes. She could understand.                 “ I need to be alone for a while. So please just leave this place”           “ Jay” She begged in a whisper “Please don’t”                 “Leave!!”

There are moments that will always haunt you. Memories, so terrible, they appear in your worst nightmares as ghosts from an awful past.                 For Jason, it used to be the Joker beating him up to death with a crowbar in a filthy bunker in Qurac. For [Y/N], it was the death of her entire family. But today, both of them knew, they will forever be haunted by the face of the other, staring with tears in their eyes, as their heart cries out in pain.