#meaning: i care for you and you occupy my thoughts. fly with me and stay with me love. you are independent and angry but i love you and

[townofcadence]

💐

Send 💐to receive a bouquet

Artair beams, a little awkward as he passes his little shit his flowers.

The colors vary, though most stick to a pink and yellow scheme. Stems of pink bleeding hearts hang in draping lines from the arrangement, and pansies in purple, white and yellow and sometimes blue dapple the bouquet. a few bunches of bright yellow flowers and white bring variance to the height of the bouquet. And pink and white flowers, some shaped in florets like a crown and others more singular with rounded petals pair against the hearts to bring the colors into the bouquet.

[sagesolsticewrites]

Dear...

A series of letters from one Lt. Harry Crosby to his wife 🤍 (a sort-of continuation of Just Say Yes, but can be read as a standalone!)

My darling wife,

‘Wife.’ I’ll never get tired of saying that.

How are you, darling? I hope you’re not worrying about me too much; I promise, I’m staying as safe as I can, and someday soon this war will end and I’ll have you back in my arms once more.

I miss you more than words can say, sweetheart. You occupy my every waking thought, and all of my dreams at night. Some of the things I dream can’t be written (you know what I mean), but I hope to be back with you soon so I can make them a reality.

All my love, and a thousand kisses,

Your Harry

My most darling husband, I know you didn’t just try to tell your wife not to worry about you! I know how capable you are, but there will always be a part of me that worries.  I’m keeping as busy as I can. I’ve found a job as a typist at the factory here! It’s not quite the job I’ve always dreamed of, but anything I can do to help you boys! Violet from two doors down works there as well, and I’ve made friends with a few of the other girls there, so you don’t need to worry about me being lonely over here. Be safe, my love, and I’ll be counting down the days until I see you again. The swell of joy I feel when I get your letters will surely be nothing compared to being in your arms again. With my deepest love, Mrs. Y/N Crosby P.S. Say ‘Hi!’ to Bubbles for me! P.P.S. I admit I’m intrigued by these dreams you claim you can’t write about… I don’t even get a hint?

Sweetheart,

‘Mrs. Y/N Crosby’ I don’t think a prettier sequence of letters has ever existed…

A job! Darling, I’m so proud of you.

Though now I can’t help but wonder at every piece of paper arriving on base here— did you type those words? Perhaps it’s just me wishing you were closer, but I like to think every piece of paper coming in with the supplies came from your hand.

Speaking of paper, was that a hint of your perfume I detected on your last letter? It was a wonderful reminder of you, my love. 

There are flowers blooming in the fields here. I’m not sure what kind they are, but they’re beautiful so of course they made me think of you. I’ve enclosed a few that I’ve pressed, and I can only hope they make the journey to you in one piece. If not, well… I send my apologies and a promise that I’ll make up for it with all the fresh flowers you could want when I’m home.

Bubbles says ‘hi’ back, and wants me to tell you that he’s making sure I’m safe (though I’m sure you know it’s clearly the other way around— no, I’m only joking, honey. We keep each other safe.)

As for your question regarding certain dreams… I’m afraid I’ll have to keep you in suspense, my dear, at least for now.

Your unspeakably proud husband,

Harry

[enclosed: a variety of small pressed wildflowers]

Honey,

It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you. Are you getting my letters? I hope so.

How are things going at work? I hope they’re not working my girl too hard. 

You’ll never guess what happened with Bubbles, sweetheart. He was off on pass visiting his girl over in Norwich, and the poor guy caught a stomach bug! He won’t be flying anytime soon, so I’m taking his place for a bit. Frankly I’m not sure how flying with me will be any different from flying with Bubbles with a stomach bug…

I miss you with all my heart, honey. I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you

Goodbye for now, angel. I hope I hear from you soon.

Love,

H

My brave Bing, Poor Bubbles! Hopefully he’s recovered by now. Tell him hello for me! And I hope your missions went well, darling, and that you’re taking the time to rest when you can. Take care of yourself, my love. Work has been fine, for the most part. Violet and Carol had a bit of a falling out— over what I’m not sure, but it’s made the office fairly awkward. The prevailing theory among the girls is a spat over a boy, though Ruthie’s making a very convincing case for it being an argument over a lost lipstick. I’ll be sure to keep you updated on these riveting (ha) events, as I’m sure you’re as curious about it as we are. Your gifts did make it to me in one piece for the most part, and I’m keeping them safe next to my picture of you. They’re beautiful, darling. In return, I’ve enclosed some pressed roses from our garden. You know I don’t quite have your green thumb, but I’m doing my best (though I am looking forward to the day you’re back home and can take over the gardening duties— the flowers miss you almost as much as I do.) All my love, Mrs. Y/N Crosby

[enclosed: two pressed red roses]

My darling,

Would it surprise you to know the boys now have a bet going as to the reason for your colleagues’ falling out?

I told Bubbles about it, then word apparently spread, and now nearly the entire 100th seems to know the story! (For the record, most of the boys are leaning towards the cause being a boy, though Bubbles is still holding out for Ruthie’s lipstick theory)

Do let us know if the cause for the argument is ever discovered: I’ve got $10 riding on this, sweetheart!

I managed to get a moment to myself yesterday, and found myself walking in the field near where the ground crews were working on the forts. And do you know what happened, honey?

A butterfly landed on my hand.

It was a little orange and black thing, and it only stayed for a moment before flying off, but having that pretty thing choose me as a resting place on its journey to wherever it was off to… it made me miss you more than ever. I wish you could’ve been here to see it.

I love and miss you so much, sweetheart, I couldn’t possibly love you more, and yet every day, my love for you grows. I’m just existing until the day I can take you in my arms again and never let you go.

Millions of hugs, thousands of kisses, and all my love,

Your Harry

My most darling beloved Bing, Ha! I’m glad I could provide some entertainment from so far away, honey. Tell Bubbles to rejoice: Mary found a lipstick tube that had rolled into a corner behind her desk, and Vi and Carol have agreed to be friends again, imagine that! You didn’t tell me which side of the bet you were on, sweetheart, but knowing you I imagine you sided with Bubbles as always. Do spend your winnings on something sensible— perhaps more paper to write to your poor wife? Oh, my love. You’ll never believe what happened as I was reading your latest letter out in the garden (the weather’s been lovely lately!) A butterfly— black and orange, similar to the one you described seeing all the way over there — landed on the chair next to me. Your chair, darling. Did you send that pretty thing all the way over to me to say hello? I’ll imagine you did.  I love you more than words can say, darling, and so the millions of kisses I’ve enclosed will have to suffice. Stay safe, and I’ll see you when you come home to me. All my love, and then some more, Mrs. Y/N Crosby

[enclosed: in a departure from her usual singular lip print on the page next to her signature, Mrs. Crosby chose instead to enclose an entire extra page covered in its entirety in lip prints 👀💋]

[miam0re]

really wanted to req for mc looking after the little D's while the demon brothers are watching them interact and thinking how good of a parent they would make (you could add some of the side characters if you're not too lazy)

i saw you take requests after i read some of your work so i just had to, I'd get it if you don't want to but if you do take you time

This sounds so cute uwu I wish I had more thoughts to pen down but my brain is absolutely scattered at the moment sooo :p (and yes I am a bit lazy so gonna just scribble down some thoughts about the demon brothers hueheuhue) I played around with the idea, changing it up a little bit so I hope that's ok! (Also I noticed you using 'they' so I'll try to keep this answer gender neutral, please tell me if I slipped up anywhere) (ps not proofread heheh just ideas dumped)

You and Little D | Demon Brothers

“Will you please. Stop. Talking.” The Little D of Pride was being so difficult with all its mindless yapping and screeching, Lucifer was about to literally throw the stupid mini demon out of the window…had it not been for you showing up to save the day!

All Little D wanted was to be heard about his amazing idea on how to decorate the ballroom for an upcoming event and Lucifer wasn’t bothered to give him any mind.

“Oh? Why don’t you tell me all about your ideas? I can’t wait to hear how awesome the are!”

Seeing you…leaning your chin you palm and listening intently to the little one, nodding eagerly and gasping in surprise at all its wonderful ideas…Lucifer felt his heart rate shoot through the roof

He quickly turned around to hide the growing redness on his pale cheeks, lest you actually catch him blushing at how sweet and loving you were…just like a parent

Perhaps it was too soon to be plagued with such thoughts- thoughts of you both having a little family of your own where you cared for your child just the way you cared for Little D-

“Ahem, I’ll be leaving now. Don’t bother yourself with listening to this thing for too long if you have your own matters to attend to.”

His heart skipped a beat when you shook your head, saying that you had more than enough time to spare to ‘your dearest little D’ You were going to be the death of him. 

They were fighting like LITERAL CHILDREN!! Little D of Greed was flying around with Mammon’s precious credit card.

“YOU RASCAL!! COME BACK HERE WITH GOLDIE RIGHT NOW!” Mammon leapt across the room right as you walked into the weird scene

The oh so innocent Little D scampered into your arms and whined, crying about how Mammon was bullying him, who was quick to deny any such accusations

“Oh, is mammon being mean? Don’t worry, I’m here for you.” You nuzzled your nose against the smirking little demon and Mammon knew that he was supposed to be raging with jealousy but…wow, you were so gentle and the way you had Little D wrapped around your finger just the same way you had him…

How you hugged and comforted the cheeky little demon, Mammon started visualising you as a parent

Mammon was already down bad for you and this little sight was the cherry on top

“I wanna marry ya- I MEAN STOP SIDING WITH THAT LITTLE IDIOT”

Mammon was quick to dart closer to you, prying your hands off the Little D who had occupied all of your love and attention 

“Hey now, there’s enough hugs for everyone here.” You laughed and wrapped one arm around Mammon and the other holding the demon

Wow, you were so mature, being able to handle two jealous demons fighting over your love

Yeah you’d definitely be perfect to handle mammon when you both have a child of your own

Leviathan isn’t really the most attentive to his surroundings when he’s immersed in his video games, especially if it is the latest first person game with his favourite character RURI CHAN!!

Which left the Little D of Envy starved for attention, pouting and poking at the purple haired man

“Stoppppp! Can’t you see I’m busy? Go find some other way to stay entertained.”

Sad little demon floats aimlessly until it reaches the lounge where you are resting on the couch, a Switch in your hand. You notice the sad little demon and smile at him, calling him over to sit on your lap.

An hour passed and Levi noticed the silence…he got up and out of his room as he started praying that Little D hadn’t gotten into any trouble

But what he walked into made his little gamer boy heart race

And excited Little D was on your lap with your Switch in hand as you cheered on him, screeching in happiness when he won first place in DemonKart. You both did a little synchronised dance, ending with a high five

Oh Levi’s otaku little heart couldn’t handle the heat travelling through his veins, seeing you be such a good parent like figure and omg maybe you guys could get married and have a little one of your own to play 3 player games with-

“Hey let me in on the gaming as well!!”

Satan wanted to give attention to the Little D of Wrath but he was far too focused on the spell books that lay open on front of him 

“Why don’t you got…sort out my bookshelves? Go be useful.”

Little D was offended but he had to listen smh, but hey, Satan didn’t say anything about him not being allowed to recruit some extra help

And that’s where you came in, pulling us your sleeves and reading the spiral bindings of some of the hundreds of books in Satan’s room, finding the best category to put them in…until you saw the little demon reach for an unstable pile

“Wait! Little D! Be careful!!” A loud crash alerted Satan, who came running into the room

His eyes widened when he saw you on the floor, hugging and rocking a crying Little D back and forth, “Shhhh, it’s okay…you’re a strong one. You’ll be fine.” You comforted it, caressing the spot where the books fell on it

Satan’s heart did a backflip at your caring and affectionate nature. You had worry drawn all over your face as you held onto the little demon, giving it the support it needed in that moment…you would be the perfect parent

You were so much better than anything he could have imagined and making a family with you would be better than any fairy tale “Why don’t we all sort the books together, yeah? That will be better.”

“No no! You’re doing it all wrong! That is not how you apply mascara!” Asmo pouted at the Little D of Lust who had managed to yet again mess up Asmo’s makeup

The Little D frowned at Asmo’s uncharacteristic outburst, feeling helpless while floating out of the room.

“Hey, are you okay? I heard Asmo shout? Did he shout at you?” You showed up in front of the door, opening your arms for the sad little demon

You tapped your chin in thought when an idea clicked in your head “Why don’t I teach you some tricks, hmm?” The way the little demon’s eyes lit up made you smile even wider

Together in your room, you showed it the various techniques of applying makeup, ranging from mascara to blush to lipstick, till the demon had almost mastered the skills

Together, the two of you waltzed into Asmo’s room, showing off your beautiful face all thanks to Little D’s skills.

“Aw, did you teach Little D how to apply makeup? You look so good! You’re such a good teacher.” He pet the little demon’s head

Then Asmo’s face sparkled with the thought of how nurturing you would be as a parent 

“Omg you would be such a wonderful parent when we have a child! You can teach them how to apply make up too! Wouldn’t that be perfect!!”

His unfiltered words made you blush and hide your face away from the thoughts of having a child with him 

“Ughhhhh I’m so hungryyyyyy! I want foooooood!” Beel was once again whining about how hungry he was and unfortunately Little D of Gluttony was subject to his whining

Sad for Beel, Little D wasn’t exactly the most equipped in the kitchen, floating to the room and head spiralling with the number of cabinets and cooking equipment

Lucky for the mini demon, you walked into the kitchen, seeing it in its distressed state

“Why don’t you and I cook something together? That would be a good way to learn, yeah?” You offered, pulling out some pans to make the simplest thing you knew…pancakes

The little demon floated around and carefully listened to your instructions, laughing along with you when some batter accidentally spilled out of the mixing bowl or when you managed to land the perfect flip on the pan

“Mmmmm I can smell pancakes.” Beel, drawn buy the scent of the treat walked into the kitchen, stopping short in his tracks seeing you cooking with the demon

It was a sight right from heaven, his favourite human and his favourite demon doing his favourite activity (cooking something for Beel)

He smiled when the little demon laughed while pouring syrup and decorating the stack with berries, as per your instructions. His heart warmed at how parent-like you were when you high fived the demon and hugged it

“Oh Beel! Look what Little D and I made! Pancakes for you!”

Perhaps one day he would be walking in on seeing you making pancakes with a little one of your own.

The day was already quite tiring, Lucifer had told(more like ordered) Belphie to run some errands around Devildom, grocery shopping ughhh 

All Belphie wanted to do was go into his blankets and fall asleep

He thought to himself, wondering what the Little D of Sloth would have been up to, all alone at home with nobody else to supervise 

Honestly, if the little demon was anything like him, it would probably be in a deep sleep on the couch 

When Belphie entered the living room, he noticed you on the couch and beamed at you, approaching to give you a big hug “Hey!-“

“Shhhhhhh! Little D is sleeping!” You loudly whispered at him, your tone sounding very much like a scolding

Belphie pouted and looked at your lap, the irritated feeling in his gut changing to a soft, loving sensation

Little D was asleep on your lap murmuring in sleep. You were stroking the little demon’s back and if you even dared to stop, it twisted and turned around violently till you gave it attention

“Little D is so much like you! If I stop stroking it, it would get mad!” You giggled when Belphie sat next to you, his thoughts straying to daydreams

Maybe one day the one of your lap will truly be someone like belphie, your child. You stroking the child’s hair who slept peacefully in your embrace.

Belphie blushed, leaning his face in your shoulder to hide himself from your gaze

“Can I rest on your shoulder for a while? I wanna dream a bit.”

Dream about having a life with you, making a family with you hehe.

[legend-the-dumb-jock]

“Confirm final changes: When it’s 9:00 pm tonight …”.

This was the final change that I would be making while in Derek’s body. This all started about a week ago when Derek said he found a way to swap our bodies. We had always played around with the idea in txting back and forth but when he said he finally found a way for it happen I couldn’t beleive him. Of course I wanted to swap bodies. Derek had a body I could only dream of getting. And even though he was built like a Greek god he still played around with the idea of us swapping. His reasoning was “it’s not always fun and games. I have to work out all the time. And watch my diet. It would be nice to not have to worry about that for a little while”. Granted I wasn’t fat by any means but I did have a small pudge on my belly. And honestly I understood him. We could be ordering food and I would get cheese burgers while he was eating a strict diet of rice and chicken.

Derek shared the site with me andni created my profile. Creating an avatar that looked just like me. Then the message from Derek popped across my computer screen. “Ok I have everything set up on my side. All you have yo do is click accept when I open the change chat.” A link displayed in the message. Opening the change forum on the site. In here rules were set. The length of the body swap. What was allowed during the swap and so forth. I agree to the terms that Derek set out. And when I clicked accept it was as if my soul was ripped from my body and I was floating. I was flying through the air and suddenly I seen Derek. In a ghostly form like me. Saving as we passed.

"alright jason. Its done. You get to be for a bit while i get to sit back and relax! and make sure you take care of my body for me !!" with that he ended the chat and i was left there in this big muscular body.

i closed the site and was shocked that this actually worked. I ran to the bathroom to get a better look at what I was dealing with.

He must have just finished working out. I was covered in hot sticky sweat ! Abs I smelt like I needed a shower. I wasnt used to occupying so much space either. Derek was huge ! I looked down and realized that i would have to get used to walking about in his clownish sized feet. Peeling back the tongue of my new gym shoes i seen 17w plastered on it. Dang, bigger than I thought. This was going to be epic. Living it up at Derek was going to be a peice of cake being a hot muscle bound man like this.

Message came across my new phone. It was a message from Jason. “Have fun and make sure you stay on that diet. That body is my prized possession.” Jason smirked. Yeah. He knew it was. And he could already tell that he would y be giving this body up so easily.

Jason continued to live the next few days as Derek without anyone ever getting suspicious thag he wasn’t the real Derek. Working out. Eating right. He was even working on the farm as the real Derek now too.

His phone buzzed and it was Derek. 'Ive decided i want change back. I want to change back later tonight at 8:55pm". Jason wasn’t ready to give up Derek’s life yet. He had to find a way to make this stop! He logged back onto the site and found that he couldn’t stop the change back. “Users are bound by the original agreement and nothing can change a current agreement that is still in process”. Jason s reamed damnit in Derek’s heavier manlier voice. “He’s gonna fucking get this body back regardless!” Time was ticking away and he had to think of something. That’s when he got an idea. He opened a new change. Only this time he explored all the options and he found what he was looking for. " confirm final change ?”. Jason hovered over the accept button. Knowing that when he chose this there was no going back. He read over the request again. “When it’s 9:00 pm tonight, the inhabitant of thjs body will make a permanent irriversible soul swap with Derek’s dog."clicking accept a huge error message came across the screen “selecting this option removes humanity. Choosing such option locks users into changes due to site specific rules stating that only humans allowed.” With a heavy thick finger, Jason clicked accept. Right clicking on the change chat he hid it from view so Derek would never know this was happening even when he was back in his body for a short period.

8:55 came to and both jason and Derek was in the chat. The week has been completed and both we taken from their bodies they had been in for the last week. Jason felt huge. His stomach was bulging from what looked like pizza and beer. Derek has really let himself loose this week. Look long back at the chat “thanks for taking care of my body so well! We should do this again!” I chuckled and agreed “yes we really should! I had a lot of fun in that body” 8:58. Jason was staring daggers at the clock waiting for his final request to take place. Suddenly. Jason was being pulled from his body just like before. And instantly found himself back in Derek’s body. Panicking he pulled up the site. Derek typed a message from jasons body. “I set all your changes to automatically accept requests from me. So now whenever I want to swap we can swap instantly !” No!! Jason had to stop this! He couldn’t find the hidden requests and it was 8:59.

9 hit and very painfully Jason felt himself being ripped out of Derek’s body. He was floating and fighting to get back into the human body but he was repelled off. Then as if there was a hidden force dragging him backwards he felt himself being pulled. Towards the dogs that he would be sealed permanently inside. He faught with everything he could while he Sean the foal of the dog listed from its body and flung into Derek’s. Everything was dark when Jason opened his eyes. He was panting. He couldn’t see color. His final request had come true. He now permanently a dog. What was even worse. The dog was a good actor. And Derek never realized the dog was swapping bodies with him now while Jason was stuck simpering in his new four legged stance.

[luminousvision]

The Queen

I stood in front of the high school, waiting to go home. My younger brother Shawn sat farther down the curb, talking to his friends. Mom and dad dropped us off this morning before heading to the airport, saying Auntie Li would take care of us for the week. They disappeared on these mysterious vacations several times a year. Shawn and I had long since stopped asking where they went because they’d never tell us. They never took pictures or brought anything back that would let us into their secret. We need a few mom-and-dad things, they said.

Auntie Li never hid anything. Even when we were little, she told us Uncle died from colon cancer. If you feel something, say something, she said. Auntie Li explained medical bills and college tuition to us from her small apartment with mismatched furniture. Money is for the important things, she said. I later asked my parents about it, who told me I was being rude.

I saw Auntie Li’s ancient Honda idling in line. I grabbed Shawn, pointed to the car, and waved to Auntie Li, who smiled excitedly and waved back. The passenger seat was occupied by a large plastic filing box and a stack of papers on top of it, so we piled into the back seats. Her car didn’t have automatic windows and smelled like decade-old shampoo.

“Thanks for picking us up, Auntie Li,” Shawn said.

“You should ask our parents for the keys to the Audi,” I offered. “If they give you the house, they might as well give you the car.”

“It’s so good to see you both again,” Auntie Li said. “And I don’t need another car—this one gets us around just fine. Anyway, how was your day at school?”

“Oh yeah, you won’t believe what Marcie gave me today!” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a glistening crystal the size of my thumbnail. “Can you believe this is a diamond?”

Auntie Li squinted into the rear-view mirror. “Are you sure that’s a diamond?”

“I don’t believe that. That has to be fake,” Shawn said, as he reached over. I let him take it.

“Marcie says she can give it to me because it’s not worth anything. Her dad makes artificial diamonds. Apparently sometimes they grow defective high-pressure centers that will eventually cause it to shatter like glass. Jewelers can see right through it so you can’t trick them.”

“How long will it stay together?” Shawn asked, squinting at it with one eye.

“Marcie said it could be weeks or even years. Nobody can tell. But it eventually breaks.”

“Imagine if someone proposed with to you with a diamond ring like that,” Auntie said.

“That’d be a ticking time bomb for our marriage,” I said. We all laughed. I took the diamond back from Shawn and put it one of the small pockets in my backpack and zipped it shut.

“So, who is our guest here?” Shawn asked. Even though he sat right behind the passenger seat, he could see the papers piled as tall as a whole person. I couldn’t believe it hadn’t fallen over already.

“Sorry about the mess. This is all of grandpa’s papers. He left a lot of knots behind, which have kept me busy over the last two months.” Auntie sighed and gave a short laugh. “Well, he stays with us just a little bit longer, I guess.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Legal, financial—debts mostly. It can get really complicated when you don’t actually own your stuff. He still had a loan on the car and the house. I didn’t know how messy it was until I inherited the papers.”

“He lived in that house forever. How did he not pay off the loan?”

“Ever heard of a reverse mortgage? You sell a part of your house back to the bank. I told him not to, but I guess he did it anyway.”

Even until just a few years ago, we’d join grandpa on week-long cruises in the Caribbean and fly to the Rockies where he had a timeshare and would watch Shawn and me snowboard. I had never thought twice about it. I started to fidget, flicking my fingers.

Auntie Li seemed to read my mind. “Don’t worry about it. Once it’s all settled, there will probably be a bit left over for me and your mom.”

I looked over at Shawn who was busy playing a game on his phone.

When we arrived home, I went upstairs to my room. I locked my door and kneeled in front of my treasure chest, a wooden crate the size of a mini-fridge. I unlatched the chest with a satisfying click and lifted the heavy sanded round cover. On top were books, scarves, socks, bracelets and pens: an innocent facade. Underneath there were two wooden notches. I pressed them and slid them in opposite directions. This allowed me to lift out the main basket, revealing a small cardboard box against the bottom of the chest. I opened it.

I extracted the diamond from my backpack and added it to my box, next to an emerald necklace my grandmother let me borrow and a gold ring I found under the table of a nice restaurant. My possessions sparkled with warmth in the sunlight. I was rich beyond my parents’ imagination. I shut the small box, placed it back at the bottom of the crate, and replaced the main basket. Shifting the hidden wooden panels back into their original spot, I latched the lid shut.

My English homework awaited. I pulled out The Great Gatsby and skimmed the questions I had to answer. But if that diamond somehow, magically, kept itself together long enough, I wouldn’t need to do homework at all. I’d be as rich as Gatsby, maybe richer. There’d be grand tapestries hanging from the tall ceilings of my great mansion hall, filled with people whispering about the Great Queen Nicole: an intellectual, a world traveler, maybe even a famous writer. The Great Queen Nicole would roam the halls, introducing herself with names like Marilyn or Florence: anonymous, elegant, and respected.

“Dinner!” Auntie Li’s voice came up the stairs, waking me up. 

I had barely read two pages, but the rest would have to wait. I opened my door to the delicious aroma of stewed tomatoes. In the kitchen, Shawn and Auntie Li were already sitting down around our cast iron pot.

“Smells amazing, Auntie Li, what is it?”

“Cioppino.”

We took turns serving ourselves from the pot swimming with fish, crab, clams, mussels, and scallops.

“Where did you get all of this seafood, Auntie Li?” I asked. “We never get this nice stuff.”

“I bought some crab for us today, but I found the rest of it deep in the back of the freezer.”

We didn’t own any utensils to crack through the crab, so we used our teeth. The fleshy bits of meat were soft and chewy. Shawn attacked a closed clam.

“If a clam isn’t open, you shouldn’t eat it,” I said.

“But they’re so yummy. I don’t want to miss any.”

“It means they weren’t cleaned. There could be something inside that kills you.”

“I don’t believe that,” Shawn said.

He managed to force the clam open with the strained twist of his spoon.

“Aww, this one doesn’t have anything in it either.”

The clams in my bowl were not any different. “Doesn’t surprise me. They always shop at grocery outlet. I guess we get what we pay for.”

“Aii, they should feed you good food,” Auntie Li said.

“You give us great food, Auntie!” Shawn said.

She laughed. “I’m glad you like it.”

We ate slowly, especially with Shawn trying to open all the clams. Auntie Li tried to boil them some more to no avail. By the time we were full, the sun had set and it was dark outside.

“Now, you two, listen carefully. Your parents asked me to tell you this.” Auntie Li paused. “We’re moving. It’s not far—just across town.”

“What, why?” Shawn asked.

“What’s wrong here?” I added.

“Your parents are selling this house,” Auntie Li said, her face falling into the shadow as she looked down at her bowl. “You should ask them when they get back.”

Shawn and I looked at each other. We had lived here for eleven years. This was our home.

“They’re selling this house just like that? They didn’t even ask us,” Shawn said.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s sudden.” She paused. “Here, how about we go visit after dinner. I have the keys so we can take a look around.”

“Is it a nice house?” Shawn asked.

“Yes, it’s very nice,” Auntie Li replied. Seeing the growing excitement on our faces, she added: “I don’t think you’ll find it nicer than this one. You can see for yourselves.”

Shawn and I fell silent. We helped Auntie Li clean up the dishes and put the rest of the cioppino in the refrigerator. I gathered the remnants of seafood to throw away. The empty shells of the clams looked lonely and sad. We filed into the garage.

“Well, this is it,” Auntie Li announced at our destination. This other house sat between two weak streetlights, one of which flickered.

I climbed out of the car to get a better look. This house didn’t have a second story and the garage could only fit one car. Overgrown weeds grew in the seams of cracked dirt in the front yard. Auntie Li was already unlocking the front door. She walked in and turned on the lights. We followed.

The smell of musty carpet overwhelmed me. The kitchen looked renovated, but there wasn’t enough space to open the oven and the refrigerator at the same time. The low ceilings felt oppressive even though none of us were tall enough to hit our heads against anything. We could only locate two bedrooms.

“Where do you sleep?” Shawn’s voice came from around the corner.

“Auntie Li, are you sure this is the right house?” The question sounded silly when I said it.

“These are the keys,” she said.

“This place sucks,” Shawn declared, joining us in the living room. “Why would we move here?”

I didn’t hesitate to answer. “We’ll ask mom and dad when they get back.”

As we departed, I noticed the sign planted in the yard. “For Rent” it said in bold letters. Shawn was silent during the drive. He wasn’t even on his phone.

“Auntie Li,” I began, my voice hard, “where are our parents right now?”

“I don’t know. They didn’t tell me where they were going.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Why not?”

Her question made me pause.

“Oh sweetie, I know it’s hard, but why would I hide anything from you? You know I don’t keep secrets.”

The strafing beams from the passing streetlights illuminated the stack of papers sitting in the passenger seat. It looked like a person, partially visible and ominous. I shifted in my seat.

We pulled into the driveway next to our Audi. I bolted into the kitchen to open the drawer where we keep our keys. The keys to the Audi were still there. I slammed the drawer shut.

I unpacked my treasure box, grabbed my diamond and ran back to the tile floors in the kitchen. The tiles were cold. I scraped the floor with my diamond, but the tile did not scratch. Instead, this rock in my hand now had an unsightly abrasion.

I fled back to my room, running so Auntie Li couldn’t see my face. The chest of secrets lay there, open for the world to see. Climbing into bed, I turned toward the wall and pulled the sheets over me.

The Great Queen Nicole entered the party unnoticed, entering the main hall of her mansion through a side door. She wore a majestic blue gown, an emerald necklace, and a gold ring. A hundred glamorous figures gathered, chatting in groups, holding wine glasses and small desserts. She hid in plain sight at her own party.

A dark, handsome man walked up to her, knelt on one knee, and asked for her hand in marriage. Thinking she had misheard, she stepped closer. The man opened a small box revealing a diamond. It was Marcie’s. When Nicole recoiled, he smiled, triumph spreading across his face. We’ve finally found her, he announced to the hall. We found the Great Queen Nicole! 

She looked around in horror. He started laughing. Everyone else was laughing too. Her jewelry shattered in a flash of crystalline dust. The golden tapestries crumpled into the floor and the walls of the great hall collapsed, leaving her under the open sky. She was alone and the night was dark.

[dndscribe]

Time

A/N: I really don’t feel like working on my current projects rn, so uh fluff for your favorite dragonborn. 

Balthazar circled around Tuvre, the fruit bat eventually settling on the bed. 

Tuvre scratched under Balthazar’s chin, mumbling, “Y’know, bud, you can stay inside if you want to,” he shifted, earning a chirp from the familiar. “I’m just going to the backyard,” he continued, huffing out a laugh as Balthazar fluttered onto his head.

Balthazar’s ears wiggled, pausing as Tuvre headed outside into the backyard. “No, you almost died, I wanna be with you,” the bat said, tiny hands patting Tuvre’s cheeks. 

“Thanks, Balth. Sorry I don’t take you with me on adventures; I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Tuvre replied, hand resting on the small garden gate as he unlatched it, letting Balthazar fly ahead of him to a clearing between the trees. 

Balthazar simply looked at Tuvre. “Oh, so something can happen to you, but Gods forbid something happen to me,” the bat said, rolling his eyes as he settled onto a nearby branch. 

“Well, yeah, you’re my little dude,”

Balthazar waddled over to the edge of the branch, biting into the apple nearest to him. Tuvre heard Balthazar huff, the bat’s soft voice occupying his thoughts.

We’ve been together for a long time, Tuv. This behavior of yours isn’t new to me.

Tuvre sat underneath the tree, plucking up blades of grass as he frowned. Tuvre wasn’t a stranger to getting hurt, but that didn’t mean his familiar could call him out on it. 

“I know, I’m just glad Kos sent me home before I died,” He definitely owed Kos a gift basket or something. “How about this? I’ll make sure to assess a situation before I go into it, that way, if it’s too much to handle I’ll leave,” Tuvre said, glancing up at Balthazar and catching the apple the bat tossed him.

Promise?

Ah. . .this was a trap. Balthazar knew Tuvre couldn’t break a promise once it was made, even less so if it was from someone he cared about. Tuvre hummed, biting into the crisp apple to prolong his answer. “Ah, fine, I promise,” Tuvre mumbled, taking another bite of his apple. 

Balthazar fluttered onto Tuvre’s shoulder, nodding in reply. “Good, you’re all I have,” he said after a moment. 

“That’s not true, you have ‘Sashi, Mom, Dad, and Salin. Maybe Toraka,”

“Do you really think Basashi or Toraka is gonna take care of me if you’re gone?” 

Tuvre paused to consider this, watching the clouds pass by. “If anything happens to me, we’ll see if Nina or Blythe can take you in,” he eventually said, earning another eye roll from the fruit bat.

“I don’t want Nina or Blythe to take me in,”

“Marshal?”

“No,” Balthazar flapped his wings, let out a tiny screech. “Nothing’s going to happen to you,” 

“Alright, alright,” Tuvre held up his hands in surrender. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me,” he continued, giving Balthazar another scratch under his chin. 

Balthazar huffed, ears wiggling at the scratch. After all, Balthazar loved Tuvre with all his heart; there’d be hell to pay if Tuvre died. 

[predatoryminds]

Chapter one - Dull office makes for dumb days! I watched shapes fly by in a blur outside the car window, music blocking out everyone and everything. My headphones sat tight over my ears, tangled in amongst my wavy length. As irritating as it was, I put up with it. Every movement I made, a hair would get caught and I’d feel a sharp tug at my scalp, but I just ignored it. I could feel Father’s gaze turn back to me every few minutes, dark blue eyes trying to figure me out, wanting to know what I was thinking, what I was feeling. Subtly, I pushed my round glasses up and kept quiet, not going to feel obliged to respond to these desperate attempts of futile bonding, it wasn’t worth the hassle. It never was. Just focus on something else, anything else. That was what I told myself, and that was what I would stick with. Mother, on the other hand, was too occupied with the road ahead to bother with an attempt at conversation. I was thankful for this, if they both had been on my case, then I would have been doomed. As sweet and innocent as she seemed, the woman was pretty damn persuasive. Keep on acting as if I don't know, The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth. Should I be offended you think I'm so stupid, or be 'grateful' since we haven't had the 'Divorce' talk yet... Pretending everything was alright was stressful for all parties involved, besides, as a government official's child, appearances obviously had to be kept up. Scrolling through my phone, I smiled at the pictures from the party I had DJ'd the other night, not that anyone knew it was me under the helmet. I could feel fathers gaze continuously turn back to me every few seconds, He wasn't subtle, bluntness and making things clear was both his biggest strength, and yet also his biggest flaw. I kept quiet, focusing on my phone, on the music, on something else, anything else. But either way, I was drawn back to my awkward and hurtful reality. When green orbs met blue, Father turned away, bearing the same burden known as awkwardness. That was one of the few things we had in common. We both were rather uncomfortable people. Father looked out his window, thoughts crinkling his face almost to the point of a scowl. Huffing, he placed his hand turned over next-to mother's. It was a desperate attempt to apear calm and 'happy'. Mother let out a humm of surprise, but then smiled, enterwining her fingers with his. She pulled off a cheerful and egar look better than my dear old dad did, yet there was always some sort of telltale sign I could find in the image. This time, gazing just beyond her seat, I could see her hand on the wheel slightly grip. I didn't like feeling anger, and frusteration, but the more they delayed telling me that they wanted to split up, the more I wanted to throw things, throw a tantrum, cry, scream. Anythign to show them how it effected everyone in our house. They might not think it, but for me, they both were easy to read. It was so obvious to tell the mood they were in. The little habits they had, like Mother tended to clean when she was stressed, and Father baked when he was anxious and needed to relax, and he brushed his hair back alot when he overthinks. That's probably why his hair was so greasy. Stop trying so hard, Rolling my eyes, I chewed the inside of my cheek to at least try to calm down my stomach. I know you're forcing it... My parent's were obsessed with public image, or rather to seem togeather. They wern't even close to being the happy family people thought we were. They argued, threatened divorce and worse, as if i'd turned deaf, like I couldn't hear them. It happened almost everyday, and made the atmosphere so incredibly uncomfortable. It was painful to watch, even just hearing it put a strain on my already fragile heart. But, i'm used to this, they've been doing this for almost two years now. I kind of felt guilty, like it was my fault. I mean, why else would they stay togeather if they hate eachother so much, if not to taking care of me? They must feel guilty, so it's to the point they go through a whole grin and bear it routine. Well, it's that, or they did it for their job. I mean, if someone can't keep their marrage togeather, how could they hold such an important government job's? After driving for what felt like hours, we finally entered the cage of a forest, making our way to what I called ' The safe hold.' The New Hampshire Divisional Covert Facillity, or, if you prefer're lazy, the N.H.D.C.F. It was really out the way of any people, off the grid, deep within the thick dense forest to a far off clearing. I had wondered many a time how my parents even had landed this job, but I never asked. I never expected a reply. I had no clue what they actually did in their 'very important job's' but whatever it was, it was extremely top secret, or something like that. After a excrutiatingly long bumpy drive through the rather unstable road, I tried to surpress the strange chill coursing through my body, and the feeling my heart had taken a trip to my throat. Unease washed over me, and I had the strangest feeling something was wrong. Oh so very wrong. Pulling my red and black flannel shirt closer to my body, I focused on my breathing as we pulled up to the gate. It's ok, Bridget, everything is fine, I reassured myself, wondering what this sense of dread was. It's probably just the atmosphere in the car! Perking up, I watched the road ahead, pausing my music. I had been here before, but it wasn't too often I came with my family to the facillity. Usually I would be at school, or when they travelled overseas, i'd go with them (Which happened alot). They did tend to work most weekends, not that they complained, if anything, they both were rather passionate about their jobs. But on weekends, i'd stay home, so I couldn't understand why today was different. The only conclusion that my already strained mind could comprehend, was that it must be 'the day'. The day they finally talk to me, and tell me 'We are getting a divorce'. My thoughts only could line up to that, maybe it was because I constantly was preparing myself for the conversation. I mean we'd be in a professional enviroment, i'd have to be just that, professional. No way could I have a tantrum, or cry out here. But then and again, whenever I came here, they'd send me to another room to wait while they did work. And today was going to be a special day, since I wouldn't be alone. Some of our interational representatives would be visiting with some of their kids, so i'd have them for company. Oooh, they want to socialize me, and that way by being around others, I still can't cry! Very clever, I narrowed my eyes, swallowing a whimper as I felt tears pricking my eyes. My overthinking was getting the better of me. I didn't notice we had pulled up to the front security box as I buised myself with wiping away tears, hiding my look of dispair. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry, just breath, I repeated the mantra, avoiding the obvious gaze of a curious old man sitting in his booth. "Afternoon, Henry" "Afternoon, Ma'am, Sir" Something about the crickity old man always set me off into a spiral of bad vibes. He made me rather uncomfortable, and he always stared so intently at me, like he was expecting something. As we pulled up to the car park, I could just feel the sentence coming as I slipped out of the car hastily. "You--" "Need to stay in the room, follow the rules, etc. etc, we've been through this, I got it" I muttered curtly, abnormally harsh. Despite my tone not being appreciated, Father nodded. "Let's go, team!" Mother cheered, almost skipping as we walked into the building. The overpowering smell of Cleanex  stung my nose as I scrunched up my face. As always, the N.H.D.C.F was impossibly ugly. Mismatched colors, and dieing plants. It was rather warm as well, and it blasted you in the face when you entered the building. It was never appreciated and the heat carried all sorts of smells that made you feel delirious. I hated it, I mean, how could anyone work in such an enviroment?! The Michaels trio were uniform, falling into the usual line. Mother in the lead, head high, chest puffed out as she walked with a cheery confidence. People tended to double take when they saw her in the facillity. She had soft youthful features, and a childish quallity to her. She was full of life and playful, yet set and determined, always fixated on the task ahead. She had persistance on her side, and could get anything acomplished if she tried. Father followed percisely 4 steps behind her, standing up straight, shoulders taught, gaze clouded with a dilligant seriousness and a whole universe worth of crunching numbers flowing from his mind. Almost everything the tall man did was maticulously planned out, he was set in his ways, and had a no nonsence attitude. And then there was me, meekly taking the rear of the line, lagging almost 12 stes behind, spine curved reflexively forward, nose glued to my phone as I tugged my headphones around my neck. I was a teenager, was what most would think, but it was actually a form of coping with the stress of meeting expectations. If I engaged or looked like I wanted to interact with others, I'd have to be all 'Adult-y'. I hated that, and the staff members of this place always asked the most awkward questions. Quickly pressing a tight hug to my mother and a mild bow to my father, we headed off our seperate ways. When I was finally alone, I let out a groan at the secenery around me. The halls stunk of a mixture of unsavoury air freshners, markers and cleaning products and the colors were so dull and bland. My sneakers squeaked relentlessly on the sticky marble floors. "I guess this is the place where all creativity comes to die" I murmered to myself, mildly amused. I always had some form of witty critisism about this place. It wouldn't be the same without a snarky remark about how utterly dead and ugly this place was. The dull grey and blues made me want to be sick, being the visually driven person I was. "If only they'd let me fix this place up" Breathing a sigh, I chuckled to myself, flicking through a few of my Pinterest boards, ideas flowing through my mind. It made me miss my room. Shutting off my phone, I stopped in front of a door. It muffled cries of anguish and mockery, despite being 'Sound-proof'. An familier and rather high pitched 'SHUT-UP!' could be heard, illicting a grimace and the tightening of my shoulders as I prepared for a head-ache. Flinching at the impact of cold steel in my palm, I pulled the door open wide. Warmth and sunlight hit me in waves of jubilation, and my world exploded with color. Red velvet furniture, couches, purples, black and white walls, colored glass panes. Everything looked and felt so inviting, I was in awe. This place had look so distasteful and honestly kind of tacky the last time I had been here, they must have done some serious renevations since then. The first thing you saw when you walked in was a huge, clear window spanning from the floor to the roof that had to be at least 3 meters long and 4 meters tall. We were on the 5th floor, so you had a beautiful view of the forest-scape and a far away lake, all set up with a rosy sun shining in the background. A boy sunken in a giant purple beanbag sat by his lonesome infront of the window, facing away from me. Shifting from foot to foot nervously, I noticed he was reading a thick book on Quantum Mechanics and Physics. Despite soaking up the rays, he wore very formal, and layered clothing. Long black trench coat, high waisted triple button jeans, a tucked in white button up, and a setesdalsgenser lay seated beside him. His pale skin gave off the illusion that he was glowing in the sun. Shifting my gaze, I turned to an argumentative pair, the girl in which being the voice I heard before. Without a door muffling her, she made me want to cover my ears, her voice echoing across the room and into the depths of the hall. She was a petite girl, thin, with almost a doll-like regal quallity to her, though she was shorter by several inches. She had a childish quallity to her, and yet a mature look as she clenched her fists, poking her tongue at her counterpart, who leant against the kitchen counter, grinning lazily, "Am I bothering you, Mulan?~" I hesitated, edging forward, then backwards. What should I do? "Could you two please act more civilized, in case you hadn't noticed, there is someone at the door" The beanbag boy's voice was sharp, yet dancing with the notes of a usually gentle forgien tone. His please was laced with poision, and he acted as if his 'civilized' mannerisms were met by ailens. To him, he was talking to the unruly wildlife and the seemingly illiterate. Or at least that was I read in the glint in his eyes. "The door?" The girl repeated with a naïve innocence radiating as she tilted her head. "You know, that peice of wood with metal sticking out of it that you had to open to get in this very room" Beanbag-boy mutterred sarcastically. A chuckle on the couch allerted me to the figure lounging on the red velvet couch. "Easy now, she is just distracted by her 'best friend' " A gorgous tan figure lounging on the couch piped up, stiffling a yawn. He had a genuine smile written all over him and a relaxed, calm manner. In the sun, his eyes glowed, beconing me forward. Taking a few more hesitant steps, I edged closer into the room. Beanbag boy scoffed quietly, dark blue eyes flicking back to me briefly, yet he never turned around, muttering a string of incoherent sentences into his book. "..." Swallowing, I looked to the ground for comfort, feeling a tad unwellcome. "Sorry about him, he's a little intense " The boy on the couch ran his fingers sleepily through his hair, standing up good mannerdly. I didn't even have a chance to respond as I was tackled in a hug, "BRIDGETTTTTTT" Glaring, Beanbag boy had somehow gotten up without our realization, and kicked the door shut illicting a yelp out of me and my petite friend. He stalked back to his seat, muttering something along the lines of, 'Raised in a barn, I swear' "H-Heya Jai--" The smaller girl nuzzled into my shoulder affectionatly, giggling like a mad woman. Long, gorgous brown- black hair loosely tied back with thin red, blue and black silk ribbons rubbed against my skin, frizzing up from the casual display of affection. Bound in tight, yet beautiful traditional chinese clothing, her posture was rather tense and unaturally straight. "You know 'Her Highness'?" The Russian with whom she had previously been arguing with loomed over us, curiously bright. Mainly it was because of his large build, but I couldn't help but shrink down. It was hard to describe the feeling, but he at the same time, was and wasn't intimadating. "She's my bestfriend!" "Heyyyy, I thought I was your best friend" "In your dreams!" "You dream about me?~" "Shut up!" "Very persuasive argument" "I said shut up" "Wow, your vocabulary of insults is just  soo fascinating, isn't it, so extensive, so broad" Beanbag boy piped up sarcastically. He wanted to start something. Maybe it was his only source of entertainment. "Extens-wat? What does that even mean?!" Jai lee turned back to beanbag-boy, starting a mini argument over his words. I was admittedly surprised the stoic (and stuck up) boy indulged her nonsense. He must have been incredibly bored. "You must be the illustrious Dimitri Ivanov, i've heard so much about you" My words felt awkward, and I could only guess how anti-social I was coming across as. "That I am, I cannot however say I am aware of who you are, дорогой друг (dear friend)" He was tall, Russian accent thick, yet he had a rather soft voice. Set amongst pale skin was the most eye catching deep-set blue orbs, with the most unique shade of blue i'd ever seen in a persons eyes. They were dark and light at the same time, purple dancing inbetween a thin line of grey and a dash of green. It was strangely hypnotic. "I--" Cut off by a loud hiss, sounding scarily like a pair of feral cats, my head whipped around, eyes blown wide in surprise. Covering my ears, Dimitri leant against a counter, amused, "They should call her, 'Your Loudness' rather than highness" "Oh shut up" Jai lee rolled her eyes moodily, fists clenched. She stalked away from Beanbag boy, clearly through with whatever he had said to her. The said boy grimaced, gritting his teeth in an ill tempered manner. "I'm Bridget Michaels" I tried again, introducing myself nurvously. "Lovino Ricci" The Itallian on the couch smiled lightly. Lovino was nice. Well, he seemed nice. There was a certian genuinuity to him. Then and again, I couldn't judge a book by it's cover. Or could I? I mean, I was assuming the best in him, so this was the exception, wasn't it? "You already know i'm Jai lee, and this is Dimitri, aka the most annoying man in the world" Jai lee's words were basically rushed and incomprehensible due to the fact she was acting like child high on caffiene, bouncing about and babbling nonsence. Glancing over my shoulder, I gazed at the boy on the beanbag. "Oi, introduce yourself!" Jai lee snapped at him. "Stop being rude, jerk!" Could have sworn I saw a vein protruding from his temple, and he tried to ignore us by holding his book up higher. Jai lee won't let this go.... "I won't stop nagging you, what's your name, what's your name, what's your name--" "ANDERS BORJA" Anders slammed shut his book, looked over his shoulder and literally threw his book in her direction. I barely had time to react as Dimitri became a blur, snatching the book up before it hit the floor. "You know this book is important to you, what have we said about throwing your belongings when 'Her Highness' is being annoying?" Dimitri purred, sounding like an adult talking to a small child. Anders rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, moodily he slowely took his heavy book off the Russian. Sitting down at the table, Jai lee and Lovino joined me. *********************************************************************************************************************************** "What subject's do you like in school?" Lovino asked curiously, glancing up briefly from his drawing. "...Math(?)" I sounded more like a question rather than an answer, but I was subsenituatlly more relaxed than when I first arrived. Green eyes smiled at me, clearly pleased with my answer, yet I knew no matter what I would have said, he would have smiled. In the few hours I had known him, I could tell he was a kind soul who cared about those around him, no matter who you were. "Yessss!" Jai lee cheered, throwing her hands up in the air, knocking pencils to the tiled floor with a echoing clatter. Lovino rested an elbow idily on the table, delicatly shading his drawing while continueing the conversation, "I love math as well, i'm not very good at many other subjects admittedly" "Really?!" The moment it came out of my mouth, I immediatly slapped a hand to my mouth, "I'MSORRYTHATWASRUDEOFME--" Light, musical laughter sounded from his mouth, and in the corner of my eye I saw a sickly dark blue glare. "It's ok, I never really spent much time in school anyway, I was usually out at photoshoot's, so I tended to miss alot of school," Lovino shrugged. "I tried to fit some studdying in between, but the work never really clicked with me because I was mostly self taught, and I rarely had time for a  tutor... my parents never really pressured me to do better either, so learning was kind of hard for me... only math, Itallian and english stuck" I had learnt that Lovino had become a young model in his pre-teen years, and was rather well know in Italy for some of his work. Made sense based off his looks and style. "Math was fun for me, it always made sense, well, actually no, alot of questions were weird... like the sentences they'd be written in" Jai lee piped picking up the pencils from the floor. "You mean context that'd be given~" Dimitri singsonged. "Ah yes, math, the only time where people buy inconspicuous amounts of sh*t and NOONE thinks to ask why. One of the many mysteries in life" Anders rolled his eyes with biting sarcasm. He lay bored in the sun, book skewed on the floor ontop of his neatly folded jacket. Jai lee poked her tongue out at him, to which he responded with a lazy raised middle finger without opening his eyes. Another half hour passed and everyone was growing bored. Many topics had be issued and the conversation was beginning to drown out. General chatter and questions about eachother had been asked. It was interesting to find that everyone in the room knew at least one person in the room in some way. I knew Jai lee, Jai lee knew Dimitri, Dimitri knew Anders, and Anders knew Lovino. It felt a little coincodental, but then and again, with the line of work out parents were in, I shrugged the thought away. Dimitri had long since abadoned his strange looking phone, a very D.I.Y looking piece of technology that rested for an eternity in his had as he typed away with speedy thumbs, walking circles around the table whilst he chatted egarly with the recipiant. Lovino was drawing picture after picture, it seemed he had a real artistic tallent, and Jai lee... Well, Jai lee had taken to rolling around the floor since she was bored of raiding the pantry, and Anders had threatened to break her hand if she poked him again. She offered me to join her, to which I politely declined the princesses offer. Yes, she was my best friend, however 'rolling about the floor was best suited for the professionals', as Dimitri had stated. It was, however, nice to be in the same room with my best friend. It wasn't too often we got to meet in person, due to the whole 'living in different countries' thing. Scrunched up bundles of paper that littered the floor all ended up in Dimitri's hands eventually and would make a swift course to the back of Anders head. The Norwegian refused to aknowledge the constant cycle, but it was clear he was getting irritated if his growling meant anything. "You're really good at art" I complimented, to which I earned a stunning smile. "Thank you, I spend alot of my time drawing, so I appreciate the compliment" "Yeah, actually Lovino here designed my tattoo" Dimitri pulled down the corner of his shirts neckline, revealing a black bird mid-flight with a blue flower in it's beak. Underneath the tail feathers lay four stars. A blush covered my olive skin at the amount of flesh he was showing, shoulders tucking in to my body. Chuckling, Dimitri let the fabric run back up to it's original position. "I got it a few years ago, to commemorate my mother's... passing" My heart twinged, Jai lee looked away, and Lovino dipped his head in respect, whispering a small prayer. Gazing at the inside of his right forearm, I noticed another tattoo. "What's that one?" I asked, Jai lee rolling over to us from her spot on the floor, clutching his arm curiously to inspect the black markings up his arm. "血で血を洗う。(Washing blood with blood), a Japanese proverb" Dimitri translated. "What's that supposed to mean?" Jai lee asked confused, running a dainty finger along the markings. "I don't remember this one "I got it recently, it's to do with family, I would explain it, but it will just go over your head" Dimitri pat her head, ruffling her hair. "Family is the most important thing in the world to me" Jai lee, though irritated she was being undermined, sat back, mentally trying to work out what it meant. How can you wash blood with blood? You could practically see the confusion written all over her face. Humming, Dimitri swiftly made a paper plane, setting it's course for the back of Anders head. True to his aim, it hit it's mark. It was like setting off a bomb. Or, at least that's what I visualized with that short tempter of his. "That's it," He stood up, shoved his book in his bag and made his way for the door. "F*ck you, f*ck this place, f*ck--" He cut himself off to curse some more in his language, teeth grit, fists clenched. He seemed rather unsettled, like something was bothering him outside of the room. The whole time we were here, he kept glancing back at the door with a dark gaze. It wasn't irritation, but like he was expecting something bad to happen. The anticipation had him on edge, his nerves were getting to him. "W-wait, we aren't supposed to leave the r--" I shrunk back at his seething glare, letting out an involuntary squeak of distress. Shrinking down, I shifted closer to Lovino and Jai lee, swallowing nervously. "Oi! You don't talk to my best friend like that!" Jai lee's words were thrown over everyone's head as the pale boy scoffed, silencing any words from his mouth with a look Lovino sent his way. "Hm..." Dimitri leant against his knuckle, a thoughtful smile lighting up his features, along with an inquisitive, knowing likeness in his eyes. "Bridget has a point, Anders, we aren't supposed to leave the room, what if we get caught?" Lovino stood up, placing a hand lightly on his friends shoulder. The next words to come out of his mouth were much more quiet, and felt rather personal. "Look, don't get me wrong, I know what you think about them..." "After all we researched, I need physical proof, Lovi" Anders whispered back, eyes meeting Dimitri. The Russian blinked slow, giving nothing away except a flicker of agreement. "I wanna explore too!!!" Jai lee jumped about cheerfully. Turning to me, Lovino sighed, "It seems we are two to two...." Biting my inner cheek, I felt the soft plush flesh slide between my teeth. It was to calm my racing nerves. I didn't want to disappoint my father, but why did I have the feeling something more was going on? Something didn't feel right. Ever since we entered the forest, I could feel something was off. The atmosphere, my instincts screaming to run, and that weird pulsing feeling in my throat. All that topped off by Anders behavior unsettled me, I felt like something bigger was going on. Am I missing something? I wondered anxiously. Lovino and I communicated with our eyes, gazes turning from doubt, to concern to something that said, 'I need to tell you something...' "Umm, Bridget, there's something--" Turning away, we came to the realization that we were the only ones in the room. "Come on," Rubbing his temples, Lovino sighed, used to Anders stubborn nature. "Looks like it's up to us to keep them in check...."

[inalandofsadclowns]

I'm not sure if it had actually become a conscious feeling for either of them until the kitchen scene. They did start off with feeling deep respect for each other though. Regarding the helicopter scene, I think what it did was it highlighted Buck's name in Tommy's eyes, but to the same degree as Eddie (and Hen and Chim, but he'd known them for much longer so less of a surprise), cause they sure are some badass folks for risking their lives for their captain like that. I don't think any romantic feelings started to develop in the helicopter, for one, because Tommy was currently risking both his job and his life and therefore was, understandably, otherwise occupied. Secondly, cause he mostly felt his own jealousy for the all-consuming, family-like connection within the 118. I imagine the "who cares" bit did give a rush to his heart, but more the "oh, to be a witness of the creation of an inside joke of the greatest team I've ever known" kind. During those hours the five of them rather became sort of brothers in arms, to whom, Tommy decided, he owed to say out loud they might not survive. Then for Buck and Tommy it ended with that shoulder-and-arm-grab of mutual appreciation.

When Buck visited him at work, probably that was when he really *noted* him as a possibly special part of his future, cause he though Buck might join the Air Operations, and now they have a shared past and they get on well so... Tbh I believe if the two had gone on that beer date when Buck offered, hung out just the two of them, if Buck admitted he really was only there to get to know Tommy, they'd have developed feelings even sooner. With that not being the case, I'm still sure that Chris gushing about Buck to Tommy did make a new layer of deep impression on him (which is funny, because the same thing probably happened vice-versa). I mean, knowing what Tommy already knew about Buck, about his work commitment AND his interpersonal commitments, he'd most likely have had a fleeting thought or two like "goodness that guy. I wouldn't mind having him", but-

For me both the "I mean, it's not like I could ever replace you" and "my attention?" are massive pointers that Tommy suspected Buck was emotionally unavailable right up until, well, "my attention?". So if he ever pined after Buck so far, he'd have pressed down those feelings as pointless.

So I'd say arriving to that realisation had been quite a gradual process, and any romantic intentions stayed under the surface until maybe "would that be before or after our flying lessons", when both just fully gave themselves over to the flirt. That's not to say they did not act on their chemistry just for the funsies, without deeper thought before though (shoutout to Tommy's little leaning over Buck's shoulder at the airport).

at what exact moment do u think tommy started crushin on buck? I wanna say probably the moment he came up with “who cares” as the team motto and the excitement with which he presented it. and then I think it only grew when he talked about the lightning strike etc etc

is it insane to say when he saw him. like LOOK AT THAT MAN. on a surface level i think everyone is attracted to buck when they see him, and i think he probably had what i in my personal life like to call a “place holder crush” on buck since meeting him. it’s like a crush that you know wont go anywhere but they’re a rly cool person so it’s easy to just have a crush on them until a more plausible option comes along. i truly don’t think he believed there was any chance in hell that it could become something until “my attention?” like you can visibly see his face change to be more like… oh okay sure

[oh-mother-of-darkness]

Damian stared out over the city, legs swinging in the emptiness beneath him while he waited for directions. In his earpiece, his father ran down the list of team members, assigning positions as he went. 

“Black Bat stays with me. Red Robin, take downtown.”

“Yep,” said Drake’s voice. “On my way.”

“Nightwing, move south and wait for my signal— and keep Robin with you.”

Damian opened his mouth to reply and then shut it again, confused. He wasn’t with Nightwing now. They were, to Damian’s dissatisfaction, most of the city apart, more than that if Grayson moved southward. Damian was flying solo for the night, and the only person actually with Nightwing was—

“Did you… mean Hood?” Grayson asked.

Father clicked out of the voice channel immediately, without finishing his instructions. 

“Did he— wow,” said Drake, into the sudden silence.

“He did,” said Grayson. “Maybe something came up?”

“It didn’t,” said Cassandra. “We’re fine.”

“In that case,” said Drake. He exited the channel himself without completing the thought— if, Damian added to himself, you could apply the word “thought” to anything happening inside Drake’s head. Damian didn’t personally believe you could. 

The rest of the team followed Drake’s lead, disconnecting one after the other until Damian was the only one still at the regular frequency. He sighed and clicked out himself. He had some idea where the others had gone. 

“—genuinely do not care,” said Todd’s voice, as Damian entered the secondary channel, “what you or anybody else thinks about it, because it’s not my name, and as a matter of fact I—”

“Oh come on,” said Drake’s. “You clearly do.”

“I don’t, and if you even think about bringing it up again, I’ll come over there and—”

“Can’t believe he left,” said Grayson, cutting off whatever threat Todd intended to make. “He didn’t even finish his orders.”

“He’s typing them,” said Cassandra. 

“Can he hear you?”

“Yes.”

“But not us, right?” Drake asked. “He still can’t access this channel?”

“He can’t,” Grayson confirmed. “Say whatever you want.”

“What if we all call Hood ‘Robin' for the rest of the night?”

“I’ll kick your skull in,” said Todd. “Thanks for asking.”

“You’re kinda being an asshole about this.”

Oh good, thought Damian, shifting idly on his ledge. It had been over a week since the last all-out household conflict. He’d been getting bored. 

Todd laughed sharply into his own microphone. “You know what? I’ll own that one. I am an asshole. You still have to call me by the right name, Red Robin.”

“Here we go,” muttered Drake.

“See how I used the name you chose? Even though you’re twice the asshole I am, and I’m seconds from punching you, and it’s a stupid name?”

“It’s— you picked it out!”

“And I’m owning that one too! It’s a bad name!”

“I’m not a huge fan of your current one,” said Grayson, “if we’re being honest.”

“God, don’t you start.”

“You named yourself after the Joker, Hood. It’s sort of uncomfortable.”

“Uncomf—” Todd began, half-laughing in a way that made Damian hope that Grayson wasn’t standing within Todd’s reach. “Uncomfortable? I really can’t stress enough how very little I care if my name makes you uncomfortable.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Well, don’t next time. Shut up.”

“Whatever. He didn’t do it on purpose, anyway. He probably just slipped up.”

Damian nodded in agreement, out on his ledge where Todd couldn’t see. Father’s reaction had been too extreme for the mixup to be anything but an accident.

“He can try harder then,” said Todd. 

“Or you could chill,” Drake suggested. “Batman called Nightwing the wrong name yesterday, and he didn’t lose his shit about it.”

“Don’t—” Grayson began. 

“That’s it,” said Todd. “That’s it, I’m done, I’m— let go of me.”

“No,” said Grayson. 

“Let— fine! I changed my mind. I now actively hope my name makes you uncomfortable. Go to hell.”

“There already, I think,” muttered Grayson. 

“Ha-fucking-ha,” spat Todd. 

Damian heard a brief scuffle on both their lines and wished, absentmindedly, that he had a visual on whatever rooftop they occupied. Whatever they were doing, it didn’t last long— a few moments later, both Grayson and Todd were back, as if they hadn’t been fighting at all. 

“Did he call you Robin?” Todd asked. 

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“I kinda like it,” said Grayson. “Feels like he’s, I don’t know, thinking about old times.”

“Same,” said Drake. 

“I’m not speaking to you,” said Todd. “But to Nightwing, yeah, that’s my point. I don’t want him thinking about old times or— or calling me the wrong name because he—”

“Because he only recognizes who you used to be?” Damian put in. 

“Exactly. Hello, Actual-Robin.”

“Hello.”

“Incoming,” said Cassandra. 

Every line in the frequency chimed collectively as they all received the same message: a paragraphs-long essay from Father with the rest of their instructions. Damian skimmed through it, looking for his own assignment, then pushed himself off the concrete, up into a standing position. 

“Goodbye,” he said, switching back into the regular channel. 

-----

Anonymous asked:

a conversation about names (hero names, real names, pet names, car names *cough*batmobile*cough*, anything)

-----

Happy birthday to me :)

[uwuwriting]

Reassuring you while you're being treated after getting injured

@windex-princess-ami asked: Hi!!! Can I request a fluffy angsty one where Bakugou/Shinsou/Todoroki hold and comfort their s/o while someone else removes shrapnel from a wound after a fight (bonus of their s/o is silently crying from the pain) please???

like, lots kisses and hugs and comforting words please 🥺 (i kinda picture them sitting on a counter or something) THANK YOU

Characters: prohero! Bakugou Katsuki, Shinsou Hitoshi, Todoroki Shoto

authors.note: I love comfort fics and just holding their s/o while they are in pain, I just generally like being reassured everything is going to be okay! Don’t judge me. Enjoy <3

TW MENTIONS OF INJURY AND BLOOD

BAKUGOU had seen you get hit. He watched from the sidelines as the villain sent you flying through a glass window and punched you roughly to the ground, remnants of your blood on his knuckles as he hit you again and again. He doesn’t remember much of the remaining fight and it doesn’t really matter in his eyes, all he knows is that you have several bleeding wounds from glass being wedged into your skin. Without missing a beat he is up and running, you delicately in his arms reassuring words leaving his lips as he tries to calm both of you down. The medics are at loss of words when they see your state instructing Bakugou to lay you down on the stretcher and hold you as still as possible while they remove the shards. “Baby, baby, look at me.” You manage to focus on his eyes, wincing as they took out the shards slowly. You grasped his forearm as more searing pain shot through your side, a particularly large piece of glass giving the medics a hard time while also making the whole process a lot more painful. “I-it hurts- Ah!” He shushed you, guiding your forehead to his with a gloved hand on your nape, rubbing soothing circles on your forearm with his other hand. “I know baby I know. You just have to be strong for me, it’s almost over I promise.” And true to his word, a couple of shards later it was over. They stitched a few cuts that were too deep and wrapped up your torso preventing you from bleeding out. Bakugou still held you, opting to press light kisses on your cheeks and forehead, whispering how proud he was of you and how strong you were. You did pass out after a while giving him a heart attack but he was reassured by the med team that your body was just exhausted. He went back to his usual mean and loud self but he stayed close to your cot for the duration of your unconsciousness.

SHINSOU was tackled by you when the bomb went off. Both of you were blasted across the road but all the debris which were thrown alongside you collided with only your body ripping a pained cry from your throat. Shinsou tried to soften your impact with the ground by wrapping you in his arms, tucking you away but the damage had already been made as his uniform’s sleeves were stained crimson once they came into contact with your waist. After your very awkward landing, Hitoshi took one look at your state and immediately left the scene with you in his arms. He wasn’t about to lose you and besides, the others could take care of the villain. The med team helped him place you on the stretcher, cutting off your uniform and started taking out the shrapnel causing you to cry out and recoil from their touch. Hitoshi was quick to soothe you, coming into your line of view and making you focus all your attention on him and only him while simultaneously placing one of your palms over his heart knowing full well that the rhythmic beat always calmed you down. “Darling, follow my breathing. There you go.” He would squeeze your hand whenever a particularly large piece of metal was pried, wiping away stray tears with his thumb and rubbing lightly on the spot. Once everything was removed and you were all patched up, he helped you sit up on the bed, supporting all of your weight and not allowing you to stand up on your own. Now it was your turn to reassure him that everything was going to be okay, poor man was panicking.

TODOROKI hadn’t seen you get hit. Hell, he wasn’t even at the scene when it happened. He learned about it through your shared com system, the moment the phrase “Y/H/N has been hit!” left your sidekick’s mouth, he was sprinting to you, shoving anyone that got in his way completely disregarding his public image. He found you being supported by your sidekick, two metal columns sticking out from your sides while blood was already pooling at your feet. You could barely comprehend what was happening, your head hanging low and your feet dragging behind you as you tried to keep up with your sidekick. Shoto rushed to your side, taking you completely off your colleague’s hands and into his own wincing at the pained cry that left your lips as he heaved you into his arms. “I’m sorry, i’m so sorry, I’m going to get you help love okay? Stay awake for me.” He doubts if you even realized that he was talking to you. It’s hard to maneuver you without inflicting any pain and every pained groan or grunt or sob that leaves your body, breaks Shoto’s heart. The medics, upon seeing your condition, tried prying you from his arms but Shoto wasn’t having it. He seemed to be in a trance where only you and your pain occupied his mind. They managed to convince you to put you down on the stretcher but he didn’t leave; he stayed by your side calling your name and telling you things you could hardly make out. You must’ve been crying because he would lean in and kiss the skin under your eyes every few minutes, his own eyes shining with unshed tears. You passed out before they were done patching you up causing Shoto to go into a panic the moment your eyelids fell shut. Poor thing sat next to you until you woke up, kissing your knuckles, the tips of your fingers, your face, in an attempt to ease both of your pains.

TAG LIST: @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​ @dnarez​ @storage11037​ @ezoyscorner​ @letscheereachothron​ @wolfkid22 @dark-thoughts-and-red-roses​ @threeamwriting @ysatrap @idontlikeyourjob @gwynsapphire @yashinosakura IF YOU WANT TO GET TAGGED OR IF I HAVEN'T TAGGED YOU PLZ DM ME

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin and the Jedi Babies: Names and Faces

Context:  Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Word Count: 6,477

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

It goes like this:

Nobody wants to separate Anakin from the children in his care until they know more about why he’s here. The gamble paid off, to some degree, and he thanks the Force that it did.

He hasn’t felt that cold in years.

He knows the logic of why the Mandalorians he’s fallen in with aren’t doing anything yet. He’s an obvious Jedi, and they don’t know why he’s here or what he’s doing. Hedging on the Mando’a and the cultural obligation to childcare hadn’t been anything close to sure, but it was... enough. He got lucky that these Mandalorians leaned on those obligations, at least to the point of keeping them all in the same room. He can sense that much, even before he opens his eyes, and he has to be grateful.

The looming hypothermia had probably nudged things in his favor.

Anakin opens his eyes to a guest room of a cell, something well-furnished and cozy, but definitely not meant to be something he can escape from. His saber is gone, and there are Force-nullifying cuffs on his wrists, and he’s pretty sure they’ve taken his--yep, vibroblade’s gone.

Fuck.

His body doesn’t want to move, and he’s still shivering a bit, but he’s mostly back to normal. When he sits up, he notices that there is, in fact, only one Force-nullifying cuff. They detached his arm.

He closes his eyes and breathes deep and tells himself it was probably medically necessary. Large pieces of metal aren’t great for maintaining homeostasis. He’ll get it back.

Probably.

“Ah!”

The voice makes him jolt, and his eyes fly open.

Two cribs, one much bigger than the other. Both are occupied. The larger one has bars, and through it...

“Snips,” he breathes, lurching to his feet and then crashing to his knees, about as graceful as a newborn eopie.

“Bah!”

“Just--just one second,” Anakin grits out, grimacing as he tries to pull himself to standing again. The fact that he’s down an arm doesn’t impact him much, but the shakiness of his legs is... a problem.

“Owwww,” Ahsoka coos with an exaggerated grimace, reacting to his pain with the innocent sympathy of a toddler. She looks, what, two? Maybe? He’s not sure if there’s anything particular about how Togruta babies age. She’s too young for words, clearly.

“I’m fine,” Anakin assures her, even as his heart sinks. She’s Ahsoka, clearly, he knows her in the Force and it can’t be anyone else, but her memories...

She recognizes him, but that’s not saying much.

He manages to get over to the chair next to the crib, but doesn’t trust himself to take her out right now. The snow and the mess of a fight before that haven’t been kind to him. Instead, he just sticks his hand through the bars and lets her grab at his fingers.

He can’t help but smile, really. She’s adorable, and she’s so damn happy to see him.

“Skyguy!”

“Oh, so you are talking,” Anakin says, part of him relaxing just a tad. “I was worried.”

“Mine,” she stresses, patting at his wrist.

“Yeah, your Skyguy,” he says. So she remembers... some things, at least. “And you’re my Snips.”

She squeals and yanks on his hand, just enough that the Force-suppressing cuff clanks against the bars of the crib. “Sky, Sky, Sky!”

Oh, she’s precious.

“You having fun?” he asks, filling the air with words faster than his head can fill with doubts. “Has everyone been nice?”

“Mmmmm,” she grumbles, falling to her butt with a huff. “Doc!”

“Oh, a doctor?” he asks, wondering at his own tone. He never expected to be one for baby-talk. “Was the doctor mean?”

“Cold!” she tells him. “Cold here!”

She taps at her chest, right where someone might check her heartbeat or breathing; the metal would be cold, and also necessary. He doesn’t fault anyone for it. Considering how poorly Anakin had fared, he’s just happy they’re all alive and mostly fine.

He doesn’t know what year it is. He knows he’s not in the year he should be. He’s vaguely aware of the name Jaster--one of the Mandos had said it while bringing him in--but he doesn’t know when Mereel’s reign ended and Fett’s began. He does know both are supposed to be dead.

Has Anakin been born yet? Has Ahsoka? Hell, has Obi-Wan?

Can he give out any real names?

A series of small, upset noises start coming up from the other, smaller crib.

He stands, but Ahsoka clings to his hand and refuses to let go. He can’t pry her off, not without his other arm, but he pulls away with quiet reassurances that he just has to check on... on...

Her brother, he says, aware that there’s more than a slight chance someone has the room bugged. He’s a Jedi in Mando custody. They aren’t stupid, and neither is he.

Obi-Wan’s the most likely to have already been born. Having the same name and face will draw attention, will cause questions, but... he can’t just rename his master like a recently-adopted pet. That’s just... wrong.

Anakin’s less shaky than when he first woke up, but he still has no way of safely picking up the kids. He reaches into the small crib, something twisting behind his sternum, and tickles under Obi-Wan’s chin.

The baby--the infant--looks up at him with wide eyes, too blue for the Obi-Wan he knows, but full of wonder and--

Love, the Force whispers through the cracks in the effects of the cuff.

“Love you too,” Anakin whispers, though he wonders if Obi-Wan would really feel like this as an adult again. Babies love easily, he thinks, and he’s the only adult that Obi-Wan knows right now. Maybe it’s just chemicals.

He stands there for longer than is probably a good idea, with the state of his body, but he can’t help it. Obi-Wan keeps grabbing at his finger and kicking with tiny legs, and sticking a tiny, tiny fist in his mouth as he tries watches Anakin.

It’s all Anakin can do to mutter a stream of meaningless nonsense as he struggles not to cry. He’s always had too many emotions, and right now he’s the only person these two can rely on. He’s the adult.

The door whooshes open.

“The medic said you were awake.”

He knows that voice. He closes his eyes and doesn’t turn, because there are a million feelings in his chest and he’s not sure which one is going to come out first.

“Sky?” Ahsoka questions, likely feeling his worry. “Issokay! Good!”

No, she wouldn’t have the mind to recognize why this familiar face she knows as friend is quite the opposite.

Anakin turns away from the crib, and smiles. “Mando.”

“Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker,” the teenager in the door says. He’s not wearing his bucket, but the rest of his armor is in place. Anakin would peg him as younger than Ahsoka was, before. Not by much, but... fourteen, maybe fifteen. The face is painfully familiar, and stays utterly neutral as he answers the question Anakin didn’t ask. “We found your Ident card after you passed out.”

Cool, so, Anakin definitely can’t change his name.

“Are they yours?” the teenager that will one day create an army says.

“They have no one else,” Anakin tells him. It’s true enough. Still, he gets the feeling that’s not what Fett’s asking. “They’re family.”

Jango squints at him. “I was told Jedi can’t have families.”

Anakin’s mind flashes to Padme and the fantasies he’d long harbored of children born free, and tears himself away. He can’t think about that right now. He can’t think of who he’s--

“Jetii!”

Anakin’s head snaps up, and he realizes he’s shaking. Fett’s not neutral anymore, just... concerned.

“I’m fine,” Anakin spits out, and leans on the crib behind him. He can hear the little ones whimpering. He has to pull his thoughts in and bundle them up into something that won’t hurt the incredibly Force-Sensitive babies behind him. “I’m--I’m all they have. They’re all I have. Are the exact words important?”

Fett doesn’t grimace, exactly, but his expression isn’t pleasant. “I guess.”

Anakin waits to see if there’s anything else coming, but no. Just an awkward silence. He holds onto his frustration, but it still gets the better of him.

“What are my chances of getting my arm back?” he asks.

“Hm?”

Anakin waves what’s left of that arm, the tied-off sleeve flapping about. “My arm. If you don’t want to give me mine back, can I at least have some kind of placeholder? I can’t pick up the babies without worrying that I’m going to drop them.”

“I can ask the medics,” Fett says. He stares at Anakin for a little more, and then asks, “Aren’t you going to ask about our plans for you, or...?”

“If you wanted to kill me, you already would have,” Anakin mutters. “Right now, these two are my only priority. I’m more likely to keep them safe and alive here than I am if I try to break out. I can be patient. I would also assume they wouldn’t have been left in a room with me, alone, if any of us were in danger of medical complications.”

Fett flushes and turns. “I’ll tell buir you’re up and active. There’s a nurse droid in the hall, I can have it handle feedings until you get an arm.”

“Thanks,” Anakin drawls, aware that he’s a little bitchy right now, but not in any mood to temper himself.

He settles himself on the floor next to Ahsoka’s crib, lets her play with his hair while the nurse droid feeds Obi-Wan, and then feeds Ahsoka herself. Anakin thinks he could probably pull the droid apart for an escape attempt if it came down to it. He hopes it won’t be necessary. He’s barely existing in the moment as it is. The droid asks Anakin if he needs anything, and he... shrugs.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Perhaps some non-perishables,” the nurse droids suggests. “Ration bars, for if you are hungry before one of the Mando’ade returns.”

Anakin shrugs again. “Alright.”

He ignores the droid after that. He’s only mostly cut off from the Force by the single cuff. He can’t blanket his Master and Padawan in his own Force presence, try to make them feel safe and calm with the fact that he’s here and ready to protect them, but he can monitor them. He can meditate, even if it’s not the way he prefers to do it. He doesn’t have the strength for moving meditation right now, but a regular meditation... he can do that.

He needs to do that, because no other stress relief option is available to him right now.

Anakin lets himself feel the babies fall asleep, the two of them radiating contentment and warmth. He lets himself trust that, for the moment, he doesn’t need to worry. He lets himself sink into an absence of thought, and then the Force guides him deeper still.

“Anakin!”

His eyes fly open.

This is not the real world.

This is not the room-cell in the Haat Mando’ade base he’s managed to stumble across.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says again, a smile hidden in a beard and worn laugh lines about his eyes. The right age, the right size, reaching for him and--

There’s only a moment’s hesitation for Anakin to process, and then he sprints forward and yanks his Master into a hug.

“You’re good,” Obi-Wan mutters to him, rubbing his back as they both sink to their knees. There’s a click of bootheels against the empty white not-space that they’re in, and Ahsoka buries herself into their sides. Anakin pulls her in a little closer too.

They stay that for longer than is maybe necessary, but Anakin’s stress levels are sky high right now, and he needs this. A hug, even one that’s technically only taking place in his head, is important.

“Sorry, Skyguy,” Ahsoka whispers. “Thinking in the real world is... really hard right now.”

He pulls away from the desperate hug he’d started them off with, rearranges things so he’s leaning against Obi-Wan, lets Ahsoka lie down with her head in his lap, on her back and legs stretched out across the white nothingness.

“I don’t know what happened,” Anakin says. “I mean, Sith stuff, probably, but... we’re in the wrong year.”

“I’d wondered,” Obi-Wan admits. “I thought it odd that I couldn’t feel the clones, but I only have so much energy to think right now...”

“Please tell me there’s a way to fix it,” Anakin begs. “I can’t be the adult, Obi-Wan. I haven’t even been born yet, that’s how far back we are. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t just bang around making bad decisions without you there to pull me back and--”

“Breathe,” Obi-Wan tells him.

“We’re in the Force,” Anakin says, just a little hysterically. “We don’t need to breathe!”

“Actually, I think we’re in your head,” Ahsoka says. She’s pointing and stretching her feet like a dancer, but looks up to grin at Anakin like the little shit she is. “You’re the only one whose brain is big enough right now.”

“Hey,” Anakin complains, putting his entire palm over her face as revenge. She giggles and swats him away. “That any way to talk to the guy who taught you how to kill five guys in one move?”

She sticks her tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes and runs a hand over her montrals, smiling when she wriggles and makes a little chirruping noise.

“She’s not wrong,” Obi-Wan says. “Though the phrasing was unfortunate, it does stand to reason that as the only person without the brain of a toddler, you’re hosting. Our minds can’t handle the strain of our own selves, let alone sharing space.”

“Infant.”

“Hm?”

“Ahsoka’s a toddler. You’re an infant. Maybe six months.” Anakin grins, just this side of brittle. He doesn’t want to joke about a problem he can’t fix, but what else is there? “You’re the literal baby of the lineage now.”

Obi-Wan sighs over the riot of Ahsoka’s laugh. “Of course I am.”

“It’s okay, Master,” Ahsoka assures him. “Skyguy’s gonna take care of us until we can fight again.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan says, grimacing slightly. “I am sorry for you being put in such a position, Anakin. It’s certainly not an easy one.”

Anakin wishes he could say that his immediate reaction isn’t a sense of hurt, a you don’t trust me, a you don’t think I can do this, a you’re disappointed someone else wasn’t here to handle things instead.

He wishes he could make that claim and have anyone believe him, but they are in a shared meditation, and in this moment there are very, very few secrets. He does not make the effort to hide his reaction in time, and Obi-Wan catches it.

Anakin turns away as Obi-Wan’s face fills with surprise and horror. “Anakin--”

“Can we just pretend you didn’t feel that?” Anakin asks, and flinches when Ahsoka pops up from where she lies and scurries around to hug him like a vise. “Can we just pretend I’m not--”

“Dear one, there are very few people I would trust as much as you in this,” Obi-Wan says. “Those who match up are largely the people who helped me raise me when I was actually this age.”

“Being completely reliant on your padawan isn’t--”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, cutting him off there. “I can trust you to care for me in ways that don’t just come down to making me a useful general again. I already trust you to risk your life and safety and freedom to see us survive, given what little I remember of that storm.”

“You handed yourself over to Mandalorians you knew nothing about so we’d be safe,” Ahsoka mutters into the fabric somewhere over his ribs. “That could have gone really badly, and you still did it because you were worried about us.”

“We trust you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling Anakin to his chest and resting his chin on Anakin’s head. “We know you.”

“You don’t even know what happened in the storm,” Anakin mutters. “You were asleep.”

“I caught enough listening to the doctors,” Obi-Wan says. He runs a hand over Anakin’s head and through his hair. “You did well, Anakin.”

Anakin wonders why they don’t do this in real life. Obi-Wan doesn’t usually hug him, let alone cuddle. Maybe it’s because they’re all stuck in too much truth in this shared meditation, and the other two are currently stuck in child bodies that crave physical affection in ways they don’t realize they’re expressing in here as well. Maybe it’s the stress.

“What even can you hear?” Anakin mutters, still in Obi-Wan’s arms. Ahsoka giggles at him, nuzzling into his side in a way he doesn’t think she’d ever let herself, normally.

“We can’t really think in the real world right now,” she muses. “Only when we’re sleeping, and probably when we’re meditating once we’re bigger. If I try to think too hard, my head hurts worse than that time Ventress got me in the head with the back of her saber.”

“Everything takes up more space than it should,” Obi-Wan adds. “It’s... all of my senses are bigger and brighter and take up more of my attention, but they aren’t very clear, really. They’re just more. I can’t focus on anything, either, except... well, the feedings.”

Ahsoka makes an annoyed noise. “The whole diapers and bottles thing is really embarrassing, by the way. Only here, though, I barely notice when I’m awake because...”

“Because you’re a toddler,” Anakin says drily.

She huffs. “How would you feel if you were stuck like that?”

That’s fair.

“I don’t remember much,” Obi-Wan says carefully. “But part of me recognizes familiar things, even if I can’t quite make the connection.”

“Was that Fett, earlier?” Ahsoka asks. “Because I thought I saw a friend, and I pretty much forgot the face as soon as they left, but--”

“It’s Fett,” Anakin confirms. “But I guess that’s good to know? You saw his face and your baby brain just assumed it was one of the clones?”

“Pretty much.”

“And we know we trust you,” Obi-Wan adds, and tightens the hug when Anakin stiffens. “Anakin, I can barely understand the world around me at all right now. It’s like being on the painkillers that don’t knock you out but leave you saying only the most ridiculous things that come to mind. You have a general understanding of what’s going on, but all your emotions are too much and the room spins, you can’t stay on one track mentally, you can’t remember what you’ve done and what you haven’t--”

“You can’t control your bladder,” Ahsoka mutters, just a touch spitefully.

Obi-Wan grimaces and nods. “An unfortunate commonality in the experiences, yes. What I was aiming to address, however, is the fact that I only remember a very few things with any reliability. Most of my adult mind, so to speak, appears to be stored in a stasis form in the Force itself, because the infant mind can only handle the barest edges of who I am. But what that infant mind knows, and what I remember thinking once I have some sense of my full self in sleep, is that there is no one I react to as positively as you, Anakin.”

“What he’s trying to say,” Ahsoka interrupts, “but can’t because he’s trying to be a serene Jedi Councilor who definitely doesn’t break the code, nosiree, is that we don’t remember much about ourselves when we’re awake, but we remember you, and we know that we love you, Skyguy.”

Anakin stares at her, and then twists around to look at Obi-Wan instead.

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka croons. “Stop being emotionally constipated. We’re literal babies right not, which sucks, but we’re like 90% emotion. Tell Skyguy.”

“Yes, er, Ahsoka was not incorrect,” Obi-Wan says, stroking his beard and refusing to meet Anakin’s eyes. “I, that is to say, we...”

“Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka says, a touch sharper than she might have dared if not for the reversal of their ages.

“I do love you, Anakin, and it’s one of the only things my child mind knows consistently.”

The Force does, in fact, sing with the truth of this. It circles them like a delighted tornado of emotional reality, pulsing like a coat of positivity.

Anakin buries his face in Obi-Wan’s shoulder and hugs him as tightly as possible.

“Oh! Oh dear, I--Anakin, really, this isn’t news.”

“Master Kenobi, you’re allergic to actually talking about your emotions. Let him hug you.”

“Anakin, I’ve raised you since you were nine, it would be nearly impossible for me to not care, why are you--”

“Master Kenobi, stop questioning him!” Ahsoka whines. “It’s affirmation time.”

“Ahsoka, have you been spending time with the mind healers again?”

“I was a teenager in a warzone and also Barriss bullied me into it for my own good.” Ahsoka shrugs. “I learned some stuff. You two should have gone, too. You were more karked up than I was.”

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan scolds.

“What are you going to do, spit up on me? You can’t exactly make me run laps, Master.”

“Both of you shut up,” Anakin mumbles, and tries to push as much of his own affection as possible into a little ball of feelings that he can just drop on the two of them while he���s still in his own brain and not somewhere he can’t touch the Force. “Just--just shut.”

Apparently, Anakin’s feelings are a lot, because Ahsoka bursts into tears and Obi-Wan zones out so hard Anakin starts worrying about him.

They’re in a mindscape, a thing that he didn’t really think happened, but does. He shouldn’t have to worry about his--

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, pulling him in tighter. “Why did you...”

“Skyguy, I don’t think you planned on putting in the part where you worry about nobody loving you back as much as you loved them,” Ahsoka says, raw and uneven. “Because, uh, we got that? Skyguy, that’s really wrong!”

Oh shit.

“No, you were... you were not supposed to get that,” he says, just a little strangled. “I am so sorry, that wasn’t--”

“Be our dad.”

Anakin stares down at his Padawan. She stares determinedly back.

“What?”

“Fett asked if we were yours, and you edged around the question by saying we were family, but he was asking if you were our dad. I’m guessing you didn’t want to claim that when we couldn’t agree to it, so I’m telling you now: do it. Adopt us the Mandalorian way or whatever. You were already my older brother, basically, this is just a step sideways in how we talk about it.”

He stares at her a bit more. He doesn’t have words, and his emotions are such a cyclone of conflicting thoughts that he’s surprised the Force hasn’t tossed him out.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be born, but if I am, then I need a name so I don’t have the same one as future me,” she says. She takes his hands, holds them tight and leans in close. “You’re going to be raising us anyway. The Force already made it clear there’s no fixing this, we tried asking while you were unconscious, it wants us to grow up the long way. You’re going to be our dad. Just make it official. Make me a Skywalker.”

Anakin sits up straight, looks her up and down, the determination and affection and--

He turns to look at Obi-Wan. “Master?”

“...yes, Anakin?”

“I know she said ‘we’ and ‘us,’ but I’m not letting anyone speak for anyone else. Not for something this important.”

Obi-Wan blinks at him, and then rearranges himself to something a tad more formal. He takes one of Anakin’s hands in his own. “Anakin, we’ve been family since you were nine. This is just redefining the terms. We can adjust as we go forward, but for all intents and purposes, the majority of the time, I will be that youngling in the cot. For all intents and purposes, I will be your child, and... and I would be honored for you to make that official.”

“Even if it breaks the Code?” Anakin presses.

“All is as the Force wills it,” Obi-Wan says, almost but not quite overriding Ahsoka’s, “This doesn’t break the Code.”

They both turn to look at her. She shrugs. “What? You guys are always arguing about it and Skyguy was married. I went and did some digging about what is and isn’t allowed. This adoption would be skirting the edges of some rules, since we should be taken to the creche to be raised in a communal manner, and official adoptions are discouraged for reasons relating to later padawan stuff, but since the Force is also insisting we stay with the Mandalorians, I think it qualifies as an exception and will be treated as such, retroactively, by the Council. You also won’t be able to take either of us as Padawan once that time comes. It does not, however, violate the Code in and of itself.”

“What the hell, Snips?”

“I’m impressed, young one,” Obi-Wan says, with a smile Anakin can feel. “I could have expected to see you in court in a few years, with an argument like that.”

“You knew I was married?” Anakin squeaks.

“Rex isn’t a very good liar,” she says. She then droops. “Or, he wasn’t. Wouldn’t be. He tried, at least, but I caught on. That was against the Code, though. Just so you know.”

Anakin runs a hand over his face, tries very hard not to think about what and whom he’s left behind. He can save that breakdown for later.

He chances a look at Obi-Wan.

He gets a raised eyebrow in response.

“You’re not mad?”

“I knew you and the Senator were close, considering all the kissing you did in the Arena,” Obi-Wan says drily. Anakin isn’t stupid enough to ask how he knows it’s Padme. “I didn’t know you were married, and am a little disappointed you didn’t at least tell me, or consult me before you did it, considering you were still a padawan... but no, I’m not mad. Even if I were--and I am not--we’ve time-traveled, so I’m fairly certain that qualifies as annulment. It’s a non-issue.”

Anakin pushes down the tidal wave of grief for people who haven’t been born yet, and just breathes instead. This is important. This is too important for him to just kriff it up.

“Names,” he says.

“I still want part of it to be ‘Soka,’ if you don’t think it’s too risky.”

Obi-Wan shrugs with a smile. “Almost every time I’ve posed as a Mandalorian, since my first mission with Satine, I’ve gone by Ben. It would be fitting that, now that we’re here and apparently staying, I take the name for real.”

Anakin nods. He closes his eyes, and breathes deep, and thinks that they may be among Mandalorians on a world of snow, but he has the desert in his bones and will never forget it.

“Ahsoka Tano, sister of my heart,” he says, hoping he’s getting the words right, and takes her hands in his. It’ll have more meaning here and now, where they’re both of full mind. He holds her gaze. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my daughter, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Sokanth Skywalker, she who slips through every hunter’s trap, and you are my child.”

She smiles brightly at him, and looks like she might cry. He presses his lips to her forehead. He turns to his Master. He hesitates, because it’s one thing to redefine his little sister, but...

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, father of my heart,” he says, his voice catching where it shouldn’t. He can do this. It’s weird but he can do this. “You ask to join my family, to be of those who walk the sky. You shed your old name as you shed the chains of your past. You become my son, not of blood, but of love, loyalty, and survival. My wells are your wells, and all I own and earn is to set the path of your freedom. I name you Ylliben Skywalker, he who hunts the monsters of the darkest nights, and you are my child.”

The man before him almost laughs, well aware of how absurd it is for Anakin to be the one adopting him, but keeps it limited to just a twinkle in his eye and a quirk to his lips. Anakin presses his lips to his teacher’s forehead.

He pulls both of them in close. Padawan and Master. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan.

Daughter and son. Soka and Ben. His.

“I’m still gonna call you Skyguy,” Soka says wetly. “But Mas--um, Ben. Ben can call you buir, all the Mandos are gonna love it.”

“Fine by me,” Anakin says. “I’m going to be telling you Tatooine bedtime stories, by the way. You’ll remember creche stories as you grow, but these’ll be new.”

“I do believe that would be appropriate,” Ben says, laughing just a touch. “I also think we should perhaps disband this, unless you have something else to address. You’re going to be dealing with two very cranky younglings soon.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, we’re gonna have headaches after this,” Soka laughs, rubbing her face against his shoulder. “But it’s okay, we got what we ne--”

“No, shut up, what you do mean, headaches? You said that was only when you were awake!”

“I mean, we’d be sobbing after like three minutes if we were awake,” Soka says cheerfully. “This way, it’s been like... an hour or whatever between all the talking and the hugging and the crying and the feelings, and we’re just gonna be grumpy.”

“Oh my--wake up!” Anakin growls at both of them. “I’m responsible for you now, wake up.”

He ignores Soka’s laughter and drags himself back to wakefulness. Behind him, he feels slight confusion and pain mixed with love and delight. Ben starts fussing.

Anakin drags a hand over his face and groans. He gets to his feet, nods to the nurse droid, and steps over to the cribs.

“Can we put them in the same one until I get my arm back?” he asks. The droid obliges, moving Ben to Soka’s crib. She immediately crawls over to him and envelops him in a hug. She pouts up at Anakin, eyes going watery, and he drops into the chair next to her and offers his hand through the bars. She grabs it.

“You’re going to be trouble for a long, long time, huh?”

She sticks her tongue out at him, and he smiles at her. Yes, trouble in spades, his Snips.

He starts telling her one of the fables of Tatooine, the really sanitized ones meant for children her age, before they got to the slave stories and haunt-tales. She falls asleep for real, no Force Shenanigans, shortly after. Ben is dead to the world by that point, making small snuffling noises whenever the blanket tickles his nose.

Anakin knows he’s got the galaxy’s dopiest smile on his face. It’s fine.

It’s a few more hours before someone stops by. He’s used the fresher by that point, helped the nurse droid coax Ben through a feeding, and helped Soka play with the little stuffed eopie they’ve given her.

“They got names, aruetti?”

He looks up and over. “Yes.”

The middle-aged man ambles over, arms crossed. “Jango said you claimed to be all they had left.”

He is. “They’re family. I’ve had a few hours to think it over, now that I’m not getting shot at or dying in the snow. To any system that allows it, I’ll be their father.”

“No chance of returning them to their people?”

Anakin shakes his head. “Soka has none who would recognize her, and I already--I already babysat her regularly, and she thought of me as a brother. It’s an easy next step.”

“And the human?”

“I... the master-padawan relationship is often one that is compared to that of parent and child,” Anakin says carefully. “My own master was like a father to me, and Ben is... Ben is all I have left of him.”

There. Not quite the truth, but... technically not lying.

Ben makes a small noise in his sleep, fussing, and Anakin reaches through the bars to brush his thumb across the infant’s chubby cheek. He smiles helplessly as Ben whines and curls in tighter on himself, pressing a tiny fist to his mouth.

“You’re good,” Anakin whispers. “We’re fine, Ylliben.”

“I don’t know what you’re hiding,” the Mando says. “But I do believe you’re doing what you can for those kids.”

“That’s all that matters,” Anakin agrees, finally looking away from his... his son.

Mine, the greedy krayt in his chest whispers.

“When are you planning on going back to Coruscanta?”

“I’m not,” Anakin says, standing and looking the man head-on. Anakin’s taller than him. That’s usually useful. “I don’t know why, but the Force wants me to stay here, or at least with the Mandalorians.”

“You want me to believe that you support my cause?”

“I don’t know your cause,” Anakin admits. “But I don’t like Death Watch, and I know you don’t either. Nobody on Coruscant is going to know to miss me, and the Force is warning me away from trying to go back. Whatever it is that needs doing, I’m supposed to be doing it here.”

The man steps forward. “Anyone tell you who I am?”

“No.”

“I’m Jaster Mereel.”

Good for you, Anakin thinks, and doesn’t say. “I’m pretty sure you already know my name.”

“I do,” Mereel says. “Wanna tell me how a Knight with a seemingly valid ident card claims nobody will know to miss him?”

“No.”

Mereel doesn’t even blink. “Try that again.”

“It means exactly what I said,” Anakin says. “The ident card is real. My training and rank are earned and deserved and bestowed by protocol. All of it was done at the Temple in Coruscant, but if you phone up the Temple with my name and face, nobody will know who I am.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why,” Mereel grouses. “What’s stopping me from calling them up anyway and asking them to come fetch your hypothermic ass?”

“...the fact that I already offered to help you?” Anakin manages. “I... I did say that part, right? That I’d help?”

“What’s stopping you from wanting to go back? And don’t give me any of that ‘will of the force’ banthashit.”

“I broke the Code,” Anakain says. The words sit heavy in his mouth, but one of his violations is lesser than the other, and-- “I married, and we’re not supposed to do that. She’s... not around anymore, but it still stands that I did it.”

The Tuskens weigh on his mind, suddenly and intensely. He hasn’t thought about them in ages, has always pushed those memories down, down, down, but--

“And they won’t take you back?”

“They might,” Anakin admits. They probably would, with his full title and everything, especially if he told them about the future. “But they wouldn’t let me keep the kids.”

Understanding flickers. “Not allowed kids?”

“It’s not... technically against the code,” he hedges. “But they’d find out about my marriage while investigating my past--” maybe, he’s not sure what kind of investigation they’d justify for a complete stranger of a knight, especially to confirm the future, but if they had a psychometric so much as touch his saber or arm, once he gets those back, there’d be a risk, “--and after already breaking the code by marrying, they’d be far less willing to bend the rules about the babies.”

He doesn’t realize how likely the risk is until after he says it, because he’s just been focusing on staying alive and following the Force, but.. they’d want the kids in the creche. He’s broken the code enough that any investigation they set to prove he’s legitimately a Jedi Knight that isn’t recorded and isn’t in the system is going to uncover something through the Force. They might not let him keep his family.

“What are their names?”

“I already--”

“Jango kept his last name,” Mereel cuts him off. “Did yours?”

Anakin looks the man in the eye, and then attempts to cross his arms in response, to mirror the pose and hold his ground. Unfortunately, he’s forgotten that he’s only got the one arm, which is really kriffing irritating.

“I gave them my name,” he says. “They’ll know where they came from, but they are mine.”

Yeah, no shit they’ll know where they came from.

Mereel’s face twitches, but the man is unreadable in the Force. Still, there’s something in the air... “So, those names?”

“Sokanth and Ylliben Skywalker,” Anakin tells him. He spells it out when the droid asks. He assumes it’s just for the medical data their droids are collecting.

“How well can you fight without your laser sword?”

“You mean unarmed?” Anakin asks, and then smiles brightly and tauntingly and waves his empty sleeve around. Mereel does not appreciate the humor. “Pretty well, but I do better when I have the Force, and am not still recovering from hypothermia. And I’m a fair shot with a blaster, but no specialist.”

Mereel eyes him for a moment, and then nods. “One of my snipers is Force-Sensitive. Never was enough to get more than some basic training in mental shields and the control to not hurt herself, but when we mentioned bringing in a Jetii, someone asked her what she thought. Came by the room while you were unconscious and said she thought you felt sad, angry, and desperate... but that she had a good feeling about where you’d be going.”

“Sad, angry, and desperate?” Anakin repeats, a little offended.

“You act like a veteran, kid,” Mereel says. He shrugs. “Damn near everyone that goes through some kind of war has all that going on. S’normal. You got Kamira’s approval, though, and that means a damn sight more. Keep your secrets for now. We’ll get there eventually.”

No we won’t, Anakin thinks. Out loud, he asks, “So, how much of what kind of work would I have to do to borrow a ship to Tatooine and earn enough to free a slave girl?”

[romanstheory]

Can you make a soft Rhea x reader smut because there isn't enough soft Rhea lol

I agree!

18+

Word count : 823

Rhea and I have been broken up for around 6 months now, and I would be lying if I said I don't miss her. We did everything together when she was here. Her schedule made it hard to stay together, extremely hard. It was a mutual break up, so there's no bad blood between us. Her smile is so contagious, her touch so caring, and her eyes full of love every single time she looked at me. Her career is her main priority which sucks so hard, but she's worked her entire life for this.

Selfishly I always wanted her to give it up to be with me, but I would never tell her that. We haven't talked since the break up, it's just too painful. I run my own business and it's been very busy so my mind as been occupied, but I can't quite shake the thought of her while laying in bed at night. I'm making myself some breakfast to start my day off of work when my phone buzzes. I look down at my phone and it's a text from Rhea. My heart seems to stop for 2 seconds and I just stare at my phone. "Oh god.... what could she want" I say out loud.

I grab my phone and look at the message. "I'm dropping by later, I think we should talk" it reads. My heart sinks a little further into my stomach "Okay, I will be here" I reply. What could she want to talk about? Are we getting back together? Do I want that? A million thought race through my head. I spent the entire day thinking of a million things she would want to talk about, none of which I liked. Hours pass and I hear a knock at my door. "It's time" I say to myself as I open the door.

"Hey Y/N you look nice" Rhea says with that contagious smirk. "Thank you" I reply guarded "So.... let's sit and talk". Rhea agrees and we sit at the kitchen island together. "I just think both of us need closure from the break up" Rhea says softly "You say what you feel and then I will and we leave it where it is". I let out a deep sigh, I could already feel my emotions getting the best of me. "If I'm being honest, I miss you. I miss everything about you, and I'm just a little bit broken still after our breakup" I struggle "I felt like I always came second to your career, and I know it means a lot to you but didn't I?"

Rhea stops and stars at the ground "I've worked my entire life for this Y/N, it was selfish of me to even rope you into all of this. The lifestyle, the lonely night, all of it." Rhea says staring into my soul "I hate that I made you feel that way". She puts her hand on my leg, caressing it. I still want her so bad in every way, but we just won't work. I begin crying and she moves closer and pulls me into a tight embrace. It's like sparks are flying between us. I can't help myself, I look up and plant a passionate kiss on her lips.

She seems surprised, but willing to accept. Our hands begin exploring each other like they always used to. I slip my hand into her pants, playing with her as a gasp escapes her lips. She guides my pants off, and I do the same with hers. She swirls and strokes my vagina with her soft hands, the air becomes thick with lust. Everything about her just drives me crazy! Our kisses become sloppy and wet. "I want to taste you" I say lustfully to Rhea. She says nothing, just smiles and walks to our once shared bedroom. She gets on the bed and lays flat on her back "Dinner is served" She says with a smile.

"No, sit on my face" I say swiftly. This takes Rhea by surprise but she cooperates and I lay on my back on the bed. She sits her round ass on my face, putting her vagina right in my mouth. I begin licking and rolling my tongue around her sweet spot. Rhea let's out a sexy groan and rocks her hip back and fourth. I continue exploring her with my tongue while pleasuring myself. I can feel her tensing up, it's almost time. I swirl my tongue in her juices, hitting the right spot over and over again. "Y/N! I-OH SHIT!" Rhea struggles. She couldn't finish her sentence before her juices started flowing down my chin.

She gets off of me, and flops down on the bed next to me. The room is only filled with our panting, no words. Neither of us had anything to say, but we both agreed that we had a good time

[startanewdream]

Written for @efkgirldetective's Summer of Jily Prompt #7 (Ice cream + "I don't want anybody else touching you like I do).

Tumblr exclusive at the moment because I don't have a title and the 'happy ending' part of the 'angst with a happy ending' was lost somewhere.

Rated M.

I will love to hear your thoughts about this!

_______________

I.

She is at the end of her round, going towards his cabin—her friends’ cabin, though Lily knows exactly who she is hoping to meet there—when she hears it.

‘—and Potter, what a waste. He won’t ever join him.’

‘We should just wipe him away. Blood traitor, muggle lover—’

‘You mean mudblood lover, Severus?’ Avery’s voice is tinted with malice and there are snickers around. ‘Potter and Evans seem pretty close nowadays. Do you think she gives him everything she denied you?’

‘I would never filth myself,’ comes Snape’s cold reply. ‘If he is tainting his blood, all the worse for him.’

Taint his blood. Is this what Lily’s presence does to James? Is she putting him in a danger he didn’t need to be just by being closer to him?

It’s Snape’s words and she shouldn’t listen to him—the days where she would hear him, would admire him, are long gone—but when she finally reaches the cabin (when James grins at the sight of her, bright and warm, and her heart skips a beat and Lily has to smile back), she sits away from James.

‘Anything wrong?’ he asks, familiar enough to read the tension on her face.

‘No, all normal,’ Lily says, and it’s the first lie.

______

II.

It’s summer and everyone is out of age now and apparating makes things so easy that Lily finds herself less and less at home during that break.

She tells herself it’s because she is avoiding the presence of her sister’s annoying fiance; she blames the fact that Dorcas has a beach house and it’s so much better spending days swimming and tanning; she even goes introspective to blame the pressure of the war looming over them in a way that means she needs to enjoy the last summer break before real life gets them.

But she knows the reason is James.

She finds herself gravitating towards him, unable to resist that attraction even as she knows how dangerous it is for him. Once or twice Lily thinks of telling him about it, of warning how he is stupidly raising his stakes by being near her, but she gives up only for the fact that this (might drive him away and she doesn't want it, not really) would probably just make him want to be even closer to her.

And they are already alarmingly close.

Once Lily would have been repulsed by that idea, but one year later everything has changed—James has changed—and everything about him appeals to her. The way he cares for everyone around him. The way he smiles patiently whenever he is explaining something. The way he grins as if to invite the world to share a great funny joke with him. How he runs his hand through his hair when he’s nervous. How he is so expansive that he seems to occupy any room he is in. How he loves flying, even more than Quidditch, and how relaxed he seems when he is on a broom. How he talks to her, taking it seriously when she needs to and making a joke when things get too serious. How he opens up about his own life and doubts and listens to her.

That would make them friends, really good friends, but then Lily’s heart would not stop racing when he’d touched her hand, or when their knees would bump while sitting closely in the library and then she was forced to note all the physical aspects—the muscles of his arms, the shape of full lips, the line of his jaw, the hazel kaleidoscope of his eyes and how fit he was—and give up any belief her feelings were limited to a friendship.

She fancies him, okay.

Except it’s not okay, because it’s dangerous and by now Lily is positive that James knows it too. Everyone knows it.

They end up together, just the two of them, a lot during that summer. It takes Lily a few days to realize it’s not a coincidence that her interests never align with those of her friends—if she wants to swim, somehow it’s only her and James in the sea; at night, even though it’s still so warm, they are the only ones who venture into the pool for a midnight swim, while the others stay stubbornly indoors.

When Lily suggests going to town to grab an ice cream, somehow James is the only one who is in the mood for it, despite the heat.

It’s not on purpose from his part—at least that’s how Lily sees it—but he isn’t refusing her company either and neither is she refusing his, so James’ boldness flourishes that summer. It’s not cocky as it once would be, it’s just a quiet acceptance that something is finally happening between them as if he never stopped believing it would be possible. Lily feels it when he throws his arm around her shoulders when they are sitting close, almost absently, almost not noticing when Lily lays her head over his shoulder; it’s there when he openly gawks the first time he sees her in a swimming suit, only to be nudged in the ribs by Sirius and then complimenting her ('good thing you wear robes at school, Evans, or there wouldn’t be much schoolwork done'). It’s definitely there when he intertwines their hands, pulling her to the sea with him.

And it’s there when they are sitting closer than they would need for a bench so wide, watching seagulls flying over the sea, each one holding an ice cream.

‘Chocolate chips with chocolate cover and chocolate sprinkles,’ James teases. ‘I think you have an addiction, Lily.’

‘Guilty,’ she replies, not ashamed at all, proving her ice cream and very aware of how James is staring at her. ‘It’s better than asking for vanilla ice cream.’

‘Hey!’ He would look deeply offended if not for the grin on his lips. ‘I’ll let you know vanilla is the best flavour.’

‘Never took you for a vanilla guy, James.’

‘What would take me for? The adventurous gorgeous type?’

Lily laughs, but she doesn’t answer. She doesn’t want to lie to him and deny it.

‘Attractive mysterious type, then?’ he insists. ‘Handsome scoundrel?’

‘I notice your beauty is enhanced a lot.’

‘My beauty? So you admit that I’m beautiful, Evans?’

‘Do I need to? You seem to already know it.’

‘I enjoy hearing you saying all the same,’ he says, and though James shrugs easily she can sense the shift in his eyes, the nervous glint there. ‘That means we would make a beautiful couple.’

‘We would,’ she whispers, still not wanting to lie.

She turns back her attention to the ice cream, already melting under the scorching sun. It makes a mess, and James laughs as she tries to lick the ice cream out of her hands, but then his laugh dies and she watches him swallow slowly, reacting. He always reacts to her.

She licks her lips now, and he also watches this movement, the grin on his face replaced by concentration—no, determination, a fierce look and Lily knows what James will do even before he raises his hand to slide his thumb at the corner of her mouth.

‘You missed here,’ he says, and though he must have wiped off the ice cream already, his caress remains.

His eyes are dark now, even under the sunlight, and he registers how Lily hasn’t stepped back, how she raises her head just the slightest to get closer to him. His gaze strays to her lips, Lily blinks, and then James looks back at her.

‘Lily,’ he says, and it’s a question.

‘James,’ she says, and it’s the only answer she can give him.

His lips find hers and in the bright darkness that surrounds Lily when she closes her eyes, she can see everything in colour. The white of his taste of vanilla. The green of his perfume that reminds her of early mourning in the woods. The brown of his skin as he pulls her closer, one hand holding the back of her neck and the other hand finding hers, locking their fingers together. The red of her blood pumping furiously through her veins, so loud and unstoppable.

And she sees him, messy dark hair, hazel bright eyes, her own sun.

But when they break apart, when she watches him keeping his eyes closed a second longer—savouring it, remembering it—, all that comes to her mind it’s the warning.

Taint his blood.

Her smile falters.

‘James,’ she whispers, all warmth of the day gone, hating everything but herself so much more when he opens his eyes and they are filled with hope. ‘This doesn’t mean anything.’

And this is the second lie she tells him.

___________

III.

Summer is over as far as Lily is concerned, but they still have two weeks in which she forces a smile up to her lips that doesn’t fool anyone.

Everyone knows something happened, though no one knows exactly what, and Lily feels too tired to pretend everything is normal. James barely acknowledges her when they are in the same room, and in the few occasions their eyes meet, there is nothing of that familiarity that he once thrived to share with her. He looks confused and hurt.

Lily could deal with the confusion but she is powerless against the hurt. She is the one who damaged him after all.

Their friends are mostly adamant in letting them deal with the situation, one notable exception being Sirius Black, but Lily didn’t expect anything less from him. He watches her rather resentfully in the first days, and Lily starts looking for excuses to avoid attending the events she had carefully arranged with them (with James, sitting by the edge of the lake, holding a scroll against his back as they wrote everything they would do, laughing and planning and hoping).

The summer days are hot, unbearably hot, and the breeze that comes through the window of her room isn’t enough. She could cast a Cooling Charm, but her wand is far away and the fact that she can cast spells outside school has lost its appeal now. She doesn't even celebrate when her school letter comes with a badge attached to it.

Most of the time Lily just stares at the ceiling of her room, finding patterns in the painting that aren’t really there, too strained and too tired to avoid being even more strained—her mind keeps replaying the moment James leaned closer, the brief moment his breath tingled her skin and the softness of his lips over hers, and Lily has no strength to avoid it. She is addicted to it, to the one thing she had a taste of and cannot have again.

Five days into hiding (she is hiding, Lily won’t deny it), her sister knocks on her door to tell her unceremoniously that one of her freak friends has come to visit her.

‘Hurry, I don’t want Vernon finding him when he arrives,’ Petunia tells her, and Lily ignores her completely.

Him, she said. Him, Lily thinks, and her mind conjures James sitting on the couch of her parents’ living room, a grin on his lips as he charms his way with her parents (he charmed her, Lily doesn’t see what challenge her parents would present), accepting a cup of tea and looking around trying to understand all the muggle contraptions in that muggle house—

Muggle lover. All the worse for him.

She rushes downstairs, her heart pounding on her head, her mouth dry with the excuses she will have to present (go away, just go away) but it’s not James after all.

Sirius looks even more out of place than the James she imagined inside her head, standing with his arms crossed in that pastel living room, and with an unhappy grimace on his lips. He turns at the sound of her, his grey eyes burning disapprovingly—and then, as he stares at her, his expression shifts.

‘You are a mess, Evans.’

Self-consciousness washes over her, and Lily runs her hand through her hair—or tries to, because it gets stuck in the knots of her messy braid. She knows she hasn’t changed clothes ever since she woke up, though it’s nearly midday, so she does the only thing she can: she presses her lips, crosses her arms and tries to look unfazed.

‘I wasn’t expecting a visit,’ she says. It’s summer break, she can do nothing all day.

‘I didn’t even mean your appearance. It was more your… aura.’

‘Aura,’ she repeats, a tiny part of her finding this amusing, but Lily can’t muster strength enough to break a smile. ‘Very mystical, Sirius.’

‘That’s me, master of occult arts. But in this case, I just needed to look at you. You—you look miserable.’

‘Thanks. If that’s all you wanted to say—’

‘Oh, no, I came here to give you a piece of my mind about how you broke my best friend’s heart, but you look somehow worse than him. What’s going on?’

Lily shrugs. ‘Nothing.’

‘So you just decided to play with his feelings and ditch him the moment he corresponded?’

His words are a poison that crawls through her skin, entering it slowly but certain; Lily feels it reaching her bloodstream, spreading through every part of her body, until the poison finds her heart. She thought she was oblivious to pain after the last days, but she was wrong.

‘I wasn’t playing with his feelings,’ she whispers, her voice hoarse, so close to breaking.

‘Then what? I thought—everyone thought—you fancied him too. Merlin, Evans, that boy was in love with you.’

The worst part is that Lily knows it. It was not a play to James, it never was. She saw it in the way his face lighted up at the sight of her, how eager he was to become friends once Lily first extended her peace flag. She saw how his eyes always looked first for her in any room he entered, how he’d find any reason to stay closer.

And she saw everything because she was paying attention.

Of course she was. One does not fall in love also if not paying attention.

‘I don’t know what to say, Sirius,’ Lily says truthfully. ‘I am sorry for all the confusion I’ve caused.’

‘Sorry is not enough.’

‘I know.’

Sirius watches her with something that borders on disappointment now. ‘You better find a way of fixing this, Evans.’

‘I—I don’t know how. I’m trying to keep my distance—’

‘And how is that helping you two?’

It’s not, Lily knows, and that’s the point. She can’t explain to James what is the problem and she is afraid that if she sees him again, if her determination falters her for one second—

‘We are going to have a party tomorrow night,’ Sirius says, his voice leaving no room for argument. ‘Dorcas’ house. It’s a goodbye party, we even invited the muggle neighbours. You’ll come, you’ll find James and you’ll talk. Fix this.’

‘I can’t.’

‘You better find a way, Evans, because that thing of keeping your distance? Well, Hogwarts letter came yesterday. Let me guess, you are Head Girl.’

Lily nods, not understanding where Sirius is heading with this.

‘Guess who’s Head Boy this year?’

____________

Lily hears the music as soon as she disapparates near Dorcas’ house. People, young people around her age, are walking towards the house and she joins the flow letting herself get lost in that stream of people, hoping it’s enough to not draw attention to her presence.

It’s useless. As soon as she crosses the doorway, Dorcas cries for her, her voice louder than the music, and then people look at her curiously.

‘Merlin, Lily!’ Dorcas cries, ignoring everyone in the room to whom that sentence makes no sense. ‘I thought I would need to invade the Prefect’s Cabin to see you again.’

‘Sorry, sorry,’ Lily says, accepting Dorcas’ hug, and using it as an excuse to avoid looking around. ‘I had stuff to do.’

It’s vague, it’s almost a lie, and Dorcas is on the edge of discussing it when Lily says she is going to get a drink, leaving the room.

When she reaches the kitchen, Lily considers that having herself questioned by Dorcas was preferable, because of course she runs into James at the first opportunity.

And of course he already has a company.

He is with his back to her, holding a bottle of beer in his hand while he talks with a pretty dark-haired girl. In another time Lily would find amusing how James obviously has no idea what he’s talking about—muggle rock bands, a subject that Sirius would fare better—, but she can’t break a smile right now, because she sees that James is trying.

That’s what he is doing with that unknown girl. He is making a real effort to keep a conversation, trying to understand what she is saying; he is trying to look interesting, to gather her attention.

Ten days, she thinks selfishly. We kissed ten days ago and I can’t stop thinking about it and you are flirting with another girl.

He must sense her staring; he turns around, and his eyes find her for a brief second before Lily bolts through the door (she is running, and she won’t deny it), grabbing the first bottle she sees on her way out.

Sirius must have lied to her (you broke my best friend’s heart), because James looks normal. Not hurt anymore, just… normal. Not like he used to like her in those first glorious days of the summer—bright and hopeful and awaiting—but as if she is just anyone else. Ordinary.

It’s fair, all things considered. She couldn’t expect him to remain in love with the girl who kissed him then rejected him. But she sees it, clearly as day, what the future holds: James will move on whatever he feels for her (that boy was in love with you) and then he will do with someone else everything he used to do with her—that inviting grins, the glint in his eyes, throwing his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer, so… intimate. Familiar. Hers.

He will share with others what used to be hers.

She leaves the house, in search of a quiet place at the beach to sit on, and looks at the bottle in her hands. Wine. Not good. She will take forever to get drunk on wine and afterwards the headache won’t even be worth it.

But it’s all she has and James is somewhere in that house flirting with a girl (that’s not her) that didn’t reject him and he has every right to do it. Even if it’s a muggle girl. Even if the reason Lily is not with him is that she is muggleborn.

It’s ironic and it’s sad, but it’s not the same. This is a one-night thing. It’s the end of the summer, he’s probably just looking for the last bit of carefree summer adventure as the single guy he is. They will just dance with each other, close together, enjoying their freedom, finding a secluded room, and he will touch the corner of her lips, asking, and she will say yes because that’s the only answer she can give him.

It won’t mean anything, but this time it will be true and this time James won’t get hurt by it.

Maybe Lily should do the same. Not to get even, but to start her own way forward. She can’t be harbouring her feelings for him—wasn’t that the point of not advancing things? Wasn’t that why she lied to him? (That kiss had meant everything)

She takes a sip of the wine, then another and one more for good measure, and she rises, almost colliding with him. Of course.

‘Hey,’ he says awkwardly, arms extended to steady her. It lasts less than a second, but his hands over her arms burn all the same, stronger than the heat any day of that summer.

‘Hi.’

He is looking at a point over her head, unable to meet her eyes, his hand lifting the hair at the back of his head and Lily remembers running her fingers through the strands of his hair while they were kissing, enjoying the fact that for once she was the one messing it.

‘Look, I’m just gonna say it, okay?’ James says in a rush, not as when he is excitedly talking about something he finds interesting. ‘I’m sorry for—for everything.’

Everything. What does it mean?

‘I am too,’ she answers carefully. He takes a deep breath.

‘I heard we are going to be Heads this year—I don’t know what Dumbledore was thinking, really—and I don’t want things to be weird between us.’

Weird. Things were never weird between them before. They weren’t friends, then Lily barely stood him, then they were acquaintances, then they were friends, then they were flirting with each other and then they were so close to something.

But never weird.

Somehow this notion helps to clear the fog in her head.

‘I don’t want it either,’ Lily says, and there is no doubt in her voice. James seems to breathe again with her words.

‘Good.’ There is a moment of silence. ‘Can we forget everything and go back to being just friends?’

Lily steels herself. She takes a look at James’ face—his eyes are on her forehead now, almost meeting her eyes but not yet ready—, one last look to admire him in the darkness of the beach and she is not lying when she says: ‘We can.’

By the end of the night it will be a lie, though, and that’s number three.

___________

They are trying and because no one tries better than James Potter, they are almost achieving it.

They go back to the house, keeping a safe distance between them so no one could misinterpret it, but whatever their friends see in their faces seems to relax everyone. Lily and James are fine, they believe, they are over that weird thing between them, and Lily starts believing it too.

She can do it.

A bottle of gin finds its way towards her group and the music is exciting. It’s a party, she is on a party, and it’s easy to join Dorcas in the middle of a dance, and it’s even easier when Dorcas is replaced by a cute muggle boy who doesn’t look anything like James (that’s why it’s easier—it takes only one second for her to look for any similarity and find none and it’s so easy).

She wonders if that’s why James was talking to that dark-haired girl. If he was avoiding finding Lily in someone else too.

But that’s a bad thought, it’s not a thought of someone who’s trying (and Lily is, she swears), so she accepts his arms, let who-knows-his-name twirl her around the room, but when he leans in to kiss her, she laughs and diverts—she is trying, but it takes small steps, so she says something about getting another drink and goes to the next room.

That’s a mistake.

A big, big mistake.

She finds them sitting close together on a couch that should only fit one, joining some silly drinking game. His arm is around her shoulders, holding a glass that’s nearly finished; they are laughing and as Lily watches it, the girl leans closer to speak something in his ear, her hand playing with the curls of his hair as she speaks. It takes a full second, but he grins, turning to her and winking.

It could be nothing, it could be just some joke, but it’s not harmless, Lily knows it. It’s a flirt, and James has every right to do it; he is free and Lily has just told him they can be friends. Friends don’t get jealous. Friends don’t get their hearts ripped out with the sight of the other smiling happily at someone else.

Lily can’t do it at all.

So she turns away and runs once more (she’s getting quite good at it by now), sprinting upstairs in search of an empty room, somewhere where she can rest until she can breathe again, until she can rearrange her expression into something normal enough for her to come back to the party, find that blond guy who is not James and enjoy her summer break as he is doing right now.

Until she can pretend everything is normal.

‘Lily?’

His voice breaks the silence of that room—though Lily knows she would have heard it anyway—and it sends a wave of panic through her body. She is not ready. She can’t look at him and still keep her promise.

James doesn’t know about her troubles—he is trying after all, and he is so much better at this than Lily will ever be—so he walks towards her, takes a look at her face and kneels in front of her.

‘Are you okay?’

‘No,’ she says, unable to lie. He would see through her anyway.

‘I saw you leaving—what happened?’

‘I need more time. I can’t...’

‘Can’t what?’ She doesn’t answer. James sighs. ‘Are you drunk? Come on, rest a little, I will bring you some water—’

‘I’m not drunk,’ Lily says. Another truth. ‘I just need—I want—’

‘What?’

In answer, she raises her hand and lets her fingers comb his hair. He shivers, his breath catching, his eyes widening and he holds her arm to stop the movement. Nervous. Insecure. She can’t fault him. They’ve been there before, at the edge of something, and she accepted only to turn him away a second later.

‘What are you doing?’

It’s a demand more than a question, and Lily attends it. ‘I don’t want anybody else touching you like I do. It’s mine.’

Her voice is ferocious and unfair and Lily waits for his cold reply, the one she deserves—she has no right to claim any part of him—, but it never comes. Instead, James blinks.

‘Then take it,’ he challenges. Lily does.

Her lips crash over his, and this time is not soft or patient. It’s desperate and when she tastes the whiskey in his mouth, she understands the difference and gladly accepts it. His hands are everywhere—holding her waist, climbing under her skirt, running through her hair to pull her closer—but what somehow stays with her it’s the moment he closes the door and then they are alone and the darkness is their friend.

The darkness makes it easy, embarrassingly easy, for her to break the kiss enough to lift his shirt and for him to slide her dress down and for them to find their way to the bed. He holds her, his lips incessantly, and a part of Lily wonders if he doesn’t want to break apart for fear of what happened the last time he did it.

But the majority of her is too wrapped in the feelings he is bringing to worry about anything. She accepts him, accepts every caress he distributes openly, and returns it eagerly. She tastes the saltiness of his skin, feels every muscle of his chest—the ones she has memorized after so many days at the beach though she had only imagined how they would feel under her fingers—, presses herself closer to him. His hands are exploring her—he saw her at the beach too—and then his mouth replaces his hands and the moan that escapes her lips is true.

She pulls him up, tasting her own sweat on his lips—it was a warm day and it’s a warmer night—and her hands work on the button of his jeans. There is a moment of hesitation—he breaks away, his eyes boring into hers even as the darkness barely allows them to see each other—and then it’s gone. He pulls her last piece of cloth then stands up long enough to take out his last one and then there is only them.

Only Lily and James, except they don’t feel like two anymore. They are one and in the darkness, Lily sees those colours that are so James once more, fireworks whose sounds are moans and short breaths and names whispered so low that the other could pretend they didn’t hear.

But Lily hears it and it’s hers. He is hers for that moment and she is his.

She lied before (and now she knows it). She can’t forget him. She can’t be just friends. James is bright sunny days, cosy cold nights and she longs to share it all with him (she couldn’t, but her mind can’t recall why right now). She locks her hand with his, her nails burying into his skin, and Lily doesn’t want to let go.

He holds her hand, pressing it so hard that she can’t feel circulation there anymore, and then he cries her name, this time impossible to deny it. He called her.

It’s not the last time he will do it tonight. He presses another kiss to her lips—it’s feverish and urgent and somehow even more desperate than the first one—, rests his forehead against her catching his breath and Lily enjoys the moment, enjoys that pleasure and soreness that runs through her body, enjoys how her chest brushes against his as she breathes, slower each time, recovering.

Recover. As if she could.

James breaks apart, rolling to the side and for a moment there is silence, the music distant, the world distant until it’s not anymore, until the world seems too close and the air too heavy, not one breeze to refresh it. Lily thinks of opening the window—it’s already opened, the wind bringing the smell of the sea to the room—when she realizes it’s not the air that feels wrong.

It’s them. No, it’s him.

‘James,’ she calls, panic and fear trembling her voice, coldness spreading through her skin in a way that it should not be possible, not on this summer day.

She can hear him rising from the bed, grabbing his clothes.

‘Lily,’ he answers shortly, opening briefly the door and she can’t see his face. ‘I know, it doesn’t mean anything.’

And that’s James Potter's first lie.

[erimeows]

Say It Again (NSFW)

Kinktober Day 18: Daddy & Mommy ~ Orgasm Denial ~ Branding

When Blurr started looking at human entertainment, he’d never expected it to lead into this, him sat in Ultra Magnus’s lap with his back pressed up against the older bot’s chest as they watched the screen on the little data tablet- known as a computer on earth- in front of them.

They’d been visiting and staying at the Autobot base to get some business done, them and the other members of the Elite Guard given their own rooms to stay in if they didn’t feel like occupying the ship. Blurr, having known Bumblebee for as long as he had, had been... Badly influenced, per say. 

In translation, he’d picked up the habit of watching filthy, raunchy human porn when he was on earth with unmonitored internet access like he was now, free of all of the restrictions and rules that were set for the use of technology while working for the Elite Guard. It had been fine with him watching a debauched scene play out in front of him, the tablet resting on his lap and his spike in one hand- at least until Ultra Magnus had walked into the room without any warning whatsoever.

The doors on the Elite Guard ship locked automatically when they were shut. The ones on earth did not, and he hated that he hadn’t learned that fact until he’d snapped his helm to gaze at Ultra Magus, who had stood in the doorway with his mouth agape and servo tightly gripping the doorknob. He’d assumed that would be the end of it; Ultra Magnus would turn around and leave and either never bring it up again or scold him later for his misconduct. But then, the blue and white bot had let out a sigh, walked in, and shut the door behind him.

“Is this how you spend your free time these days, Blurr?”

“Y-Yes, sir... Forgive me, I didn’t mean for you to walk in, I was under the assumption that the doors here would lock automatically like they do back on Cybertron. Additionally, if I may, you’re usually recharging at this time so I thought you wouldn’t require my assistance and further, and... Why did you come in here? Actually, I should probably put my spike away considering that you’re my boss and you’re standing right there, but I-”

“Blurr. That’s enough. You need not explain yourself.” 

And, caught up in his embarrassment and desperation, despite his better judgement, he dared to act upon the little crush he’d had on his commander for light years. 

“Care to join in?”

And that’s how he ended up where he was currently, aft being grinded into by Ultra Magnus’s unnaturally large spike, struggling to hold the data tablet in his shaky servos as Ultra Magnus’s much larger ones gripped his hips. That deep, melodious voice was in his audial, telling him how good he was doing, how gorgeous his tiny frame was when-

Daddy!

At that, Blurr’s face flushed, and he could feel both his and his superior’s optics fly to the device, which zoomed in on one of the two men’s face as one called the other that familiar name. It was one of the weirder human kinks that Blurr fancied, as there wasn’t anything quite like it on Cybertron. It felt nasty, forbidden, like something Ultra Magnus would condemn him for even being interested in, but apparently, it was the exact opposite.

“Blurr, explain.”

“O-On earth, there’s a variety of kinks that we don’t have equivalents to on Cybertron and vice versa,” He started and vented sharply when the tip of Ultra Magnus’s spike was pressed against the entrance of his valve to tease the flowery petals. He could feel the dribble of pre-fluid that had spilled from the slit just a few moments before being pushed into his valve along with the head, only to be pulled right back out when he stopped talking. The pleasure and desire was burning him from the inside out, but no matter how hard he tried to buck his hips down to impale himself on the spike he craved inside of him to fill that void, Ultra Magnus held him in place. So, he continued. “Daddy is similar to a sire, but it’s used in a sexual context as well, usually to address someone older and dominant in the relationship. Is that sufficient for you, Ultra Magnus?”

“Plenty,” The other mech’s lips were pressed into the back of his neck and curled up into a satisfied smile. “From what I’m understanding now, in this context, you could call me daddy. Why don’t you try it?”

Regardless of the embarrassment that was now bubbling up in his chest and trying to climb out of his throat, Blurr forced himself to do as his boss had asked of him. Weakly, he turned his helm so he could nuzzle into the Magnus’s cheek and talk.

“D-Daddy...? Like that?”

“Just like that,” Ultra Magnus groaned and thrusted his hips up, effectively pushing his spike about halfway into Blurr. The blue bot cried out and slapped his servos over his mouth, the tablet long forgotten and dropping to the floor, the obscene video audio still playing aloud but hardly paid any attention to. “Say it again.”

“Daddy!” This time, it was much more confident, moaned out as he was steadily lifted up and down the huge length inside of him and struggling to keep his noises down as a way of preventing the entirety of Team Prime, Sentinel, and Jazz from hearing them interface on the floor of Blurr’s guest room.

It was a stretch, a hell of a one at that, and though Blurr usually talked so much that his words left no room in any room for anyone else to speak, he found that all he could bring himself to say was daddy, just like Ultra Magnus had requested.

His obedience was quickly rewarded as he was lifted again, set on his hands and knees, and then immediately plunged back into, Ultra Magnus’s servos still gripping his hips so hard that he was sure there would be dents. His spark was racing, thighs shaking, lips trembling as he beat his servos into the floor in an attempt to get out all of the pleasure coursing through his circuits at the feeling of being stretched, pounded.

Ultra Magnus wasn’t merciful either, no- it was the exact opposite. Just like in battle, he was brutal, not letting up his intense pace as he roughly pistoned his spike into the depths of Blurr’s walls.

“Blurr,” Ultra Magnus leaned down to whisper in his audial, still fucking him at lightning speed like it was nothing- movements that, honestly, Blurr had never expected the Magnus to be able to pull off at his age. “Where do you want me?”

With his processor being damn-near screwed out of him and his audials flooded with the sound of his own sparkrate, Blurr barely pieced together the question, but when he did, he gave a hurried nod and answered.

“Inside, please!”

“Please what?” Ultra Magnus reminded him with a growl and a particularly sharp thrust that hit a bundle of nerves deep inside of him. The reminder had him buckling where he was holding himself up, his arms falling as he buried his head in them and overloaded with a shout of Ultra Magnus’s name. Lubricant spilled onto the blue and white bot’s length and transfluid onto the floor, that of which he knew would be horrible to clean up, but he didn’t care about that right now, too caught up in the depths of his pleasure to concern himself with it.

Still, Ultra Magnus had prompted him, and he had yet to respond, so he did.

“Please, daddy!”

It was his last plea that had Ultra Magnus giving one last groan and thrusting as deep into him as possible before flooding his insides with hot, potent transfluid. It was a lot, more than he’d ever received and enough to send an intense, fuzzy warmth throughout his body as Ultra Magnus began to press a flurry of kisses up and down the length of his back.

“Was... Was that good for you, Blurr?” The Magnus started, voice sounding uncharacteristically shy. When Blurr managed to sit himself up on his arms again and turned his helm to look at the Magnus, he was blushing a deep, dark red. “This wasn’t how I intended for my attraction of you to be revealed, but I hope you enjoyed it somewhat.”

“I did,” He affirmed with a small smile and reached for the tablet, which he turned off. “I’m glad we feel the same way.”

After that, Ultra Magnus, massaging circles into his hips, pulled out and sighed.

“Then let’s clean up... When we’re done, we can talk more, alright?”

In a moment of jovial jest, Blurr smirked and quipped back.

“Alright, daddy.”

“Tch,” Ultra Magnus scoffed and looked to the side, then reached down for Blurr and gave him a pat on the top of his helm. “Save it for the berthroom, Blurr.”

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 4

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language, nudity (but, like, for art), and violence Warnings: Unhealthy dynamics, including violence between the shipped pair, leaning heavily into the "enemies" part of "enemies to friends to lovers" Summary: Local vampire discusses art, depictions of certain anatomy, and enjoys the company of her feral soulmate for 4.5 minutes. Then it goes to shit (as things tend to do). 0-60 Real goddamn quick. Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!, 3: Haunt Me Dearly

4: Portraits For Ghosts

“Am I really supposed to just… stay here? Did she honestly think that I, of all people, would behave? The universe gave me two good hands, and by God, I intend to make that someone else’s problem,” you mutter to yourself as you get dressed. It’s not that you necessarily had anything in mind, rather that you hated the idea of waiting around for who knows how long for Cassandra to return. Especially considering what she had done prior to leaving. Sure, you had laughed, but that hadn’t meant much in the end. At this point, you hadn’t even been out of the dungeon for a full day yet, and the memories of what happened there were fresh in your mind. Nightmares, too, even if you had pushed them aside to deal with Cassandra’s. Why did I bother? You wonder, frowning. There was hardly any point to comforting a monster, no matter the way they trembled.

Or at least that’s the lie you sold yourself.

Soon enough, a knock at the door brings you out of your head. Daphne, maybe, you think, remembering the maiden from yesterday. When you open the door, however, you’re met with an unfamiliar woman. She’s a few years your senior, at the very least, and appears surprised to see you. In her hands is a very enticing tray of food.

“Lady Cassandra wanted me to bring this to you. I am… I am glad to see you are feeling better already,” she says, voice shaking. What was with these maidens and assuming you were anything like your soulmate? Though that last part did catch your interest. Something told you that she wasn’t at all referring to your time in the dungeon. If you had learned anything from Daphne, it was that the best way to get information was to be indirect. So you graciously accepted the food, before speaking, dodging your way around your ignorance.

“Yes, it’s amazing what a bit of meditating can do for the soul- and body, that is,” you start, watching closely for any veiled reactions. Even within the first few words you can tell that this stranger wasn’t expecting you to be pleasant. “Out of curiosity, what did my Lady say about my condition? There are, uh, a few details that I hope she did not share. I’m sure you understand.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, the maiden is nodding, appearing eager to satisfy you. Maybe a hint of fear can be useful, after all.

“No worries, Lady Cassandra did well to respect your privacy, and we would not dare question her further. She simply explained, to her family, that you were dealing with a migraine. I only heard this because I was helping serve breakfast,” she explained, smiling softly. You’re quick to nod, mimicking her expression for maximum empathy. “Do you require anything else? I am here to serve, you must only ask.” Ah, perfect. Would she have offered this even if you hadn’t attempted to be charming? Probably, but your politeness certainly didn't hurt.

“Well, there is one thing… as long as it’s no trouble.”

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

It had been a risk, asking the servant to take you to a room you weren’t sure existed, but one that had paid off brilliantly. Even if said room was nothing like you had anticipated. Who would have thought that Cassandra, you think, would be an artist? What’s far less surprising is the fact that the studio (or ‘study’, as you had called it) is a disorganized disaster. Discarded papers lie scattered around an overflowing trash can, a cabinet with an attached tool rack is missing pieces, and in one corner there are literally random shards of broken glass lying about. What is this, performance art? Part of you feels tempted to clean up the mess, if only to occupy your time. Instead, you decide to examine some of the pieces within the room. Maybe somehow they’d tell you something noteworthy about your soulmate.

First, you move to your left, where a workbench houses strange sculptures. For the most part they’re abstract, jagged edges contrasting with gentle curves, but there is one you think you understand. It’s very clearly a bust… of someone’s ‘bust’. Guess that solves the age old question of ‘boobs or ass’, you think, stifling a giggle. Moving on, you shift your attention to the exposed section of the cabinet. One row is dedicated to small vials, each labeled with a concerning ‘blood’, despite the fact that it’s clearly not refrigerated. Still, you have heard of artists painting with blood before, but you seem to recall them mixing it with something else. Perhaps Cassandra had done the same? Though you did wonder if she had any difficulty resisting the urge to drink the blood, at least prior to mixing it.

Shrugging, you continue to the other side of the studio, squatting to get a closer look at the broken glass. As expected, there’s no discernable pattern or purpose. Huh, you think, wonder why she doesn’t clean up. Maybe she’s waiting for a servant to do it? Guessing her reasoning was rather difficult, especially considering your lack of context, such as how long the mess had been here. Deciding that this was a pointless distraction, you move on to the only other thing of note in the room: An easel, in the center, with a canvas nearly as tall as yourself. So far, there’s little on it other than pencil lines, a sketch marking where to paint certain details. Only the (start of) the background has been colored. Understandably, it’s hard to make out what exactly the finished project would end up representing. Based on what you know of Cassandra and her family, however, you infer that this- with four figures, one larger than the others, protective- is a painting of the castle residents.

“Family means something to you, hmm?... I hope that mine does not miss me much, for I will never see them again,” you say to yourself, instinctively reaching out towards the art. Before you can touch it, or think better of it, the door to the studio is flying open. In storms Cassandra, fists clenched at her sides. As soon as she sees you, she’s rushing forward, pulling you away from the easel. “Hello, darling. Glad to see me feeling better, yes?” You teased, smiling wide at her. Feeling a bit emboldened by your earlier success, you go a step further, leaning in to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I swear to fuck, if you touched any of my stuff-” Cassandra starts to say, intentionally ignoring the kiss, even though her cheeks get flush at the contact.

“Nope, not a single thing. Not even the broken glass. Nice touch, by the way, makes the whole space feel a helluva lot cozier,” you interject. For a few moments she holds you by your shirt collar, staring you in the eyes as if determining whether or not to believe you. Somehow, some way, she declares you innocent, releasing you with an irritated sigh. After pretending to dust yourself off, you return your attention to the central canvas. “Do you do a lot of art of your family? I passed by several pieces on my way here, though they were certainly in a different style.” Another pause, with Cassandra waiting for you to spring a verbal trap.

“Some of those are mother’s work,” she answers, tentatively, eying you closely. When you merely nod in reply, expecting her to elaborate, she starts to relax, little by little. “I doubt you passed any of mine. Mother tends to keep those closer to her quarters, or near the main entrance.” Interesting, you think, why hasn’t she addressed my original question?

“It sounds like she’s very proud of you,” you muse, still facing away from your soulmate. There’s a slight shakiness to your voice, as your mind starts to dwell on memories of your own family. Perhaps noticing this, Cassandra takes a few steps closer, one hand hovering over your shoulder, not quite sure if you needed (or perhaps deserved) any comfort. In this moment, you feel far more vulnerable than you had the day before. Taking a deep breath, you try to center yourself, before perfectly ruining whatever trust you had just established with Cassandra. “Something tells me she doesn’t know about the titty sculpture though, right? Can’t quite imagine that one being displayed where everyone can see it.”

To your immense surprise, Cassandra gives you a blank stare.

“You… you really don’t know anything about my mother, do you?” She says, after several awkward seconds. It feels strange to think that she had been furious, merely a handful of minutes ago. “If you actually behave for a while, I can show you some of her favorite pieces around the castle. Then maybe you’ll understand.” Intrigued, you debate how exactly to respond. On one hand, you did want to see the art, but on the other hand… misbehaving was your goal of the day.

“Sounds like a nice date to me. Why not start the tour right now?” You suggest, hoping to meet your ‘politeness quota’ earlier rather than later. Still, it is in your very nature to be chaotic, and you find yourself giving Cassandra an affectionate shoulder touch. It’s not at all genuine, but the two of you blush nonetheless. How could you not, when your blood was bound together, hearts made to race in sync?

“Don’t get friendly with me,” Cassandra stammers, unadjusted to the way her pulse pounded. “This isn’t a date. We’re just- it doesn’t matter, actually. As long as it means getting you out of my studio, I don’t care.” With that said, she takes your hand in her own, pulling you towards the exit. If she has any feelings about the soft touch, she hides them well… unlike yourself. Cheeks flushed, you’re half tempted to yank yourself out of her grip, hating the way your heart skips a few beats. Would I still feel this way if I didn’t know we were soulmates? You wonder, biting your lower lip to prevent any unwanted comments from slipping out. Soon enough you’d have art aplenty to distract yourself with. Hopefully.

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

“My God, you were not kidding. I don’t- I can’t even think of anything clever to say,” you chime, staring dumbfounded at the several statuettes of naked women. They seemed to fulfill some other purpose, one you couldn’t parse at the moment, but you could hardly think about the details right now. “I mean, good for your mother, for sticking to a theme, I suppose,” you continue, tripping over your own tongue, uncharacteristically quiet. Clearly amused by your flustered display, Cassandra lets out a hearty laugh.

“Good to know some things can shut you up. I’ll have to keep this in mind for next time you bother me,” she teases, light-heartedly. Her words only fluster you more, though they quickly give you room to counter, much to your joy.

“Is that so? Planning on carrying around a busty bust for the rest of your life, or thinking of going the more au naturel route?” You asked, briefly sticking your tongue out at Cassandra. It takes her a moment to understand what you’re getting at, but as soon as she does she’s smacking your arm with an offended huff. Despite her irritation, the blow is relatively soft, and you swear you can see her fighting to hide a smile. “Starting to go soft on me, are you? I hardly even felt that one.”

“So you’d prefer I hit you harder? And to think you called me kinky,” Cassandra fires back, without a hint of hesitation. Now both of you are laughing, softly, like old friends sharing fond memories. It’s… weirdly nice. A warmth fills your chest, even as you try to remind yourself that you shouldn’t be happy right now. Damn it, you think, suddenly frowning, hands clenching. We shouldn’t be having fun banter, back and forth like a real couple. Not when I’ve still got wounds from her hands on my skin. Instinctively you reach up to your face, thumb running over the marks Cassandra’s nails had left behind. The touch stings, bad, no matter how gentle you try to be. Noticing your shift in expression, your soulmate inches closer. “If your wounds are bothering you, I can have one of the servants get more ointment or whatever it is we have around. I don’t want you to-... There’s no reason for you to suffer more than you need to, besides, I don’t want you complaining all day.” Of course she couldn’t bring herself to imply that she cared. Of course. It wasn’t like the two of you were actually capable of being soft for each other, obviously. All of your confusion melts down, boiled by the warmth in your chest, turning to a familiar, albeit painful, rage.

“Right, right! Because you care so fucking much, yeah? What the fuck am I doing? Why am I-” you jab a finger towards her chest, accusatory- “talking to you? Why am I pretending you're not the one who did this to me? You’re the fucking reason my face hurts, my shoulder hurts, my brain-... I can’t stop thinking about everything that happened down there. I can’t get those goddamn images out of my head, every time I close my eyes, every time I look at you. I…” You trail off, chest heaving a little, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Cassandra’s standing tall, unflinching, but there’s a noticeable regret in her expression.

“What. Are. You… going to do about it?” She asks, through clenched teeth, fighting back the full force of her emotions. You can’t tell what exactly she’s feeling, but you know that you want her to show you. Every part of you is itching for a fist fight, regardless of how stupid you know the idea is.

“Depends, dickwad, on whether or not these statuettes are properly secured,” you snap, already moving, fully abandoning all impulse control. By the time your hand grips the first sculpture, Cassandra has put you in a headlock, forcefully tugging you backwards. Panic sets in, making you try to jam your elbows into her stomach. Before long both of you are tumbling to the floor, bodies already aching, limbs flailing wildly in an attempt to hit a target, any target. In the end the air is knocked from your lungs as your head smacks against the ground. “Shit, shit, shit,” you grumble, coughing, finally processing just how much of a dumbass you were. It’s clear that at least one of the previous day’s wounds has reopened, and you feel something wet and sticky on your shirt.

“Finished, asshole?” Cassandra wheezes, sounding dazed, roughly pulling you up by your shirt collar. You nod, refusing to meet her gaze. Then she’s sighing in relief, letting you lean on her for support, holding you surprisingly close, considering the circumstances. “Let’s get you cleaned up. Again…”

[fific7]

Ticket to Ride - Part 2

Billy Russo x Reader

A/N: Inspired by The Beatles song of the same name. This takes place in my S1 Punisher AU with Arrogant!Billy in attendance, in which he gets a taste of his own medicine.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content, including oral, between consenting adults* in some chapters. Drinking and swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My photo edit)

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕒𝕚𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕝𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕞𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕠𝕨𝕟, 𝕪𝕖𝕒𝕙

𝕊𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕓𝕖 𝕗𝕣𝕖𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕒𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕕

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖

𝕊𝕙𝕖'𝕤 𝕘𝕠𝕥 𝕒 𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕖 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕔𝕒𝕣𝕖

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

The aircraft door opened and you stepped out gratefully onto the air jetty. You weren’t scared of flying, you just didn’t like being cooped up in a flying tube for several hours on end. Up an escalator and along a short corridor and then you were able to see outside through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sky was beginning to shade into the colours it would take on for dusk. It looked like it had been a nice day and you hoped the good weather would continue for your stay.

Karen had texted you while you were sitting on the plane at JFK, waiting for it to push back. Frank had told her that Micro had tracked your phone to the airport so boy, were you glad you’d turned off your old phone and switched to the new one when you did. She’d also told you that Billy had asked him to find out where you were headed, and your heart sank. You knew it wouldn’t take long for Micro’s vast and nerdy computer skills to find you but then again, London was a huge city and they’d have no idea whereabouts in it you’d gone to ground, thanks to your new ‘burner phone’.

You were feeling super-excited. This was beginning to feel like an action movie, with you on the run from the bad guys.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

“London??!!” Billy shouted, making Frank quickly move his phone away from his ear on the other end. “Yeah, London,” he replied.

Billy was back at his usual post by the window. “I mean... obviously I knew she was gonna fly somewhere but I thought it would the West coast, Miami, Seattle, Alaska... somewhere like that. But to go to a whole other continent....!!!!” Frank sighed, “Yeah, Bill, sounds like she’s really not keen to bump into you anytime soon.” “Yeah, thanks for remindin’ me.” “Bill, you brought this on yourself, buddy.” “I know!” yelled Billy, “An’ all I wanna do is get her back and make it up to her for the rest of my life, and all I know is she’s in London! Do you know how big that place is?” “Yeah, I do. And t’be honest... I dunno how you’re gonna even try to find her over there.”

There was a silence on the other end of the phone. “I mean...” Frank continued, “I’m guessin’ you are gonna go over there and try to find her, Bill?”

Billy’s shoulder twitched upwards briefly, and he stared intently out the window at the New York skyline.

“Yeah, Frankie... yeah, I damn well am.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d left two of your big suitcases and the backpacks in a luggage storage facility at JFK, travelling with just the one suitcase and a large shoulder bag. You took the overground Heathrow Express to Paddington before negotiating a change onto the Tube to reach Tower Hill DLR station, boarding one of the driverless trains out to Canary Wharf. Settling back into your seat, feeling pretty proud of yourself for managing not to get hopelessly lost.

Your AirBnB apartment was in a part of the city called Docklands, beside the Thames on the Isle of Dogs. It was an area of shiny skyscraper offices and fancy apartment blocks built round the old docks, and your accommodation for the next two weeks was in one of those. You were suitably impressed when you got inside it... open plan, all trendy furniture and gleaming fittings. Big, big windows with views of the river and the tall buildings.

Your phone chimed and you saw a text from Karen on your notifications. Taking your suitcase and bag into the bedroom, you went back out to the main area and sat on the sofa to read it. Oh. Billy now knew you were in London, and had apparently booked a flight over - he’d be arriving tomorrow. Your heart rate sped up; Billy was a sniper, used to finding, stalking, watching his prey. But, you told yourself, he had no idea whereabouts in the city you were and no way of finding you.

Relax.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy stepped off the Heathrow Express, looking around for signs indicating where the taxi rank was. He’d been looking at the Tube map during the train journey. Nah, fuck that.

He was too wired to even think about getting to London Bridge on the Underground, or ‘Tube’ as he found out Londoners called it. His brain had been working overtime trying to figure out how the hell he was going to find her in a city the size of London. She’d stay central, surely - she wouldn’t head to the suburbs, he felt confident of that.

Getting into the first taxi in the queue, he drawled out, “The Shard, please.” The taxi driver nodded and pulled away from the station without saying anything. Thank fuck, thought Billy, I can’t be dealing with a talker right now. But just as the thought had left his head, the driver’s London accent said, “First time in London, guv?” Billy sighed, “No. No, it isn’t.” In fact it was, but he wasn’t about to tell the driver that. He’d only end up getting taken on the ‘scenic route’, double the time, double the price.

The driver grunted and turned up the radio... really annoying music could now be heard but Billy would take that over inane small talk any day. He looked out of the windows at the city streets and his mind went back to his mission. Mission impossible. Finally he saw the river and the taxi crossed a wide bridge before pulling up outside the lofty skyscraper that was The Shard. According to the blurb he’d read on some travel website it was the tallest in Western Europe, and while there were taller buildings in New York, the shape of this one made it look quite dramatic.

He paid and got out of the taxi with his expensive wheeled duffel bag, heading to the Shangri La entrance of The Shard and going inside. (It’s one of the priciest hotels in London - of course). Checked in at reception on the 35th floor, he was then whisked up to his room on the 52nd by another express lift. The windows were huge and the views spectacular.

Once again, he was gazing out of a window at a cityscape.

Where is she?

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Your first full day, you occupied yourself with getting to know the surrounding area, doing some grocery shopping and sitting on your large balcony, enjoying the view and relaxing with a glass of wine.

Every time a plane went overhead you wondered if Billy was on it - he was due here today. You shook yourself a little, you’d just have to stop thinking about it. He wouldn’t find you.

Your mind wandered unbidden to his recent behaviour. Knowing Billy was a player from day one, you’d still got involved with him. More fool you. Another old cliché.... you thought you’d be the one to change him. And you thought you had. You’d dated him for a few months, he seemed to have ditched his old hound-dog ways and when he’d asked you to move in with him, you’d agreed without thinking it over too deeply.

Now, looking back, it seems like you’d made a big mistake.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Micro had spent quite some time constructing a query table that he could run against accommodation reservations in London for her arrival day. She had no reason to book under another name and he’d just have to run with that assumption.

When Billy had come directly to him instead of going via Frank to ask that he try and track down her reservation, Micro had been too scared to refuse. Billy still really unsettled him - he always reminded him of a circling predator.

This query would take a while to run. He hit the go button and wandered off to work on another project while it tunnelled its way through layer upon layer of data.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy was pacing his swanky hotel room like a caged panther. He’d given up on the idea of roaming the streets of London trying to spot his target, that was just one dumbass idea. He’d never find her that way, much better to just wait on that geeky twat to come up with the answer with his internet wizardry.

He’d spoken to Frank earlier, who had nothing new to report. Billy wouldn’t allow himself to feel guilty at cutting him out of the loop on his recent ask to Micro. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe that Frank wouldn’t mention it to Karen. Much as he loved him like a brother, Frank was a big sap when it came to Karen and he knew he’d give in and tell her, probably sooner rather than later.

However Frank had told him that Madani had called earlier that day, wanting to know where Billy was and why she couldn’t get in touch with him. Billy had figured out that his girl had got herself a new phone, and he’d followed suit. Which is why Dinah hadn’t been able to reach him. “Whaddya tell her?”he’d asked. “That you were on an overseas operation and were incommunicado.” “Good,” nodded Billy, “....that takes care of that little problem for a while at least,” feeling a sense of relief.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Frank cut the call, a grim smile on his face. He hadn’t been completely straight with Billy, but it was for his own good. What he’d told Madani, however, had been the unadulterated gospel truth.

He’d said to her that Billy had hared off to Europe in pursuit of his live-in girlfriend, who’d suspected him of cheating on her and left him. He was absolutely determined to get her back.

He’d taken great satisfaction in the dead silence on the other end of the line, eventually punctuated by an angry snort and the call being abruptly ended.

That ‘little problem’ was hopefully taken care of for good.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Micro looked at his phone as it beeped at him, the notification saying that his query was complete. That had taken much longer than he thought it would. Now he could only hope it hadn’t returned too many matches as he’d thought it prudent to run it on surname only.

He pulled up the results table and was pleased to see that there were only a thousand or so, he’d feared there would be many more. He scrolled through the list and quickly pinpointed the one he’d been looking for.

With a deep sigh he picked up his phone, typed “Wood Wharf, Water St, London E14”, a building and apartment number into a new message, then hit send. It would be the early hours of the following morning in London, so he very much doubted that Billy would leap out of bed and head right over there.

He finished eating his supper, drank a beer and settled down to watch TV when his conscience started bothering him. Should he? He shivered when he thought about what Russo might do to him if he found out.

Popping another bottle of beer open, he sat and contemplated what he should do for quite a while. He suddenly picked up his phone, sending a quick text to Frank telling him about the whole situation and including the fact that Russo now had her London address.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

While you were lounging on your balcony, sipping your wine and watching the world go by, it suddenly occurred to you that this would be a great base to work out of for a while. You messaged the estate agent and extended your stay to one month, with an option to extend if required.

Then, on a whim, you booked a flight to Barcelona early the next morning from City Airport - it was really close to your apartment even if the flights were a bit more expensive. You’d been doing a little research into other destinations to explore, and having a base in London to travel to and from made you feel much more comfortable. The W Barcelona had caught your eye while you’d been browsing for accommodation and as you were only going for a few nights, you’d booked in there.

Feeling extremely pleased with yourself, you got up and went into your bedroom, looking for a folded-up smaller travel bag you knew you’d packed in your luggage. Finding it, you began to choose some outfits for your short trip, thinking what a joy it was that you could now leave your large suitcase here.

But damn, you were going to have to be up early tomorrow. Best to get an early night, you thought, immediately yawning.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy shot up in bed as his phone chimed with Micro’s text. When he read the information in the text, contrary to Micro’s belief he did leap out of bed and started pulling on his clothes (Micro had forgotten that this was an ex-Marine he was dealing with here).

He sat back down on the bed and googled the location. Oh okay, East London.... Docklands. Too far to walk and he didn’t think the Tube ran at this hour. Then he pulled up the Uber app and booked an immediate pick-up.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Walking into the terminal building at City Airport, you were in the middle of a total yawning fit when a text came in. It was from Karen and you stopped, putting down your bag so you could read it.

Karen: Sorry to tell you this hon, but Billy went direct to Micro 🙄 and intimidated him into finding your London accom. Frank’s told him not to do that again no matter how much he’s shitting himself! Please take care of yourself 💋

You: Bastard 👿 thanks for the heads-up, I will do 😘

Picking your bags up again, you hurried over to one of the automated check-in machines to get your luggage tag.

Whoever had said ‘timing is everything’ had definitely got that right.

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“Oi!!!” yelled an irate male voice. Billy turned his head to see a groggy-looking tousle-haired guy, obviously just having been woken up. “Keep the noise down!”

Billy said nothing, just gave the guy his death stare. His head quickly disappeared back inside his apartment.

After pressing the buttons of a few apartment numbers at the main entrance, someone had buzzed him in and he’d been pounding on her apartment door for the last five minutes. But there was no response, and he knew she wasn’t that heavy a sleeper.

He slid tiredly down onto the floor outside her door. Had she somehow known he was on his way over here? No.... how would she know that?

His head dropped down in momentary defeat and he ran his fingers through his hair, groaning.

She hadn’t moved on already, had she?

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The plane lifted off the tarmac, and immediately you felt a huge sense of relief. You just weren’t ready to see Billy right now - you’d probably kill him if you did, ex-Marine or not.

Now you were off on your next adventure.

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London

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@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @ourloveisforthelovely @swthxrry @odetostep @supernaturalcat7 @obscurilicious @strawb3rrydr3ss

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