#most covers ignore the note fluctuations

[blanketorghost]

GUYS QUICK QUESTION

EDIT: links dont work on polls WHOOPS

Rib

SymaG

Zero

KanzentaiCell

Uuuh tbh Yuu has multiple VCs depending on who covered the songs I think fit him,,, He is solely based on vibes.

I do have to specify that Yuu is a smoker so I do gravitate towards more breathy/gravelly (?) voices?

Ideally, his va would be able to sing Enka and be vocally trained for kabuki, but I can't be too picky LMAOO

If you wanna check his full playlist here it is: Link

[trans-femme-fag-dyke]

T4T sEggs Cracking

Sex changes when you transition as a t-girl. New realities come into focus. New turn-ons emerge. A world of novel psychological and physiological experiences are added to the mix, or replace it entirely. Hormones and their impact terraform the ecology into a mycelial divine feminine, replete with new pleasure pathways. In short, it is wild and beautiful, feral and oozing with potential.

What I wasn’t prepared for, though, was how transfiguring the experience of T4T sex would be. Not by a mile.

Degrading Glorification

(What follows is a dual narrative, embellished and made whole by my lover’s own description of our tryst, which may I tell you is really fucking hot. Anyone who finds discovery and meaning in the process of writing has my attention and, most likely, my lust).

Just another day on Grindr receiving unsolicited dick pic after dick pic from people who ignore my profile’s clear insistence on T4T only.

While I don’t avail myself of these opportunities, there is something to be said for the euphoria that comes from being seen by cishets as a girl. Even seeing me as an attractive t-girl, if they’re purely fetishizing that tribal identifier, doesn’t hurt. Having spent too many years in the closet as a boy-modular gay, I am immune to the aggression of those advances and treat it more like a research project, tagging each new appendage into its relevant mental taxonomy: thick, thin, black, white, clean, cum-covered, veiny, etc. Back in the day, these advances were perfectly acceptable — direct, to the point, like the hawking of wares in a saturated meat market. I was less interested in what they were attached to as I was in their function. Emotion and personality were cast aside.

As a t-girl, though, there is a crossing of the privilege divide into an East Berlin of fear and insecurity. Too often, and too unpublicized, are the examples of anti-trans violence that it’s simply not the same fuck economy that it used to be. And anyway, my orientation has changed.

Orientation shift in transition is a topic that could command an entire thesis, so I won’t go into it here. Suffice it to say that almost overnight, as the estrogen moved through my body, I lost my interest in gay or straight men. Perhaps because being with a gay guy, although still on the table before secondary sex characteristics set in and I could stealthily navigate those penetrations, would send a dysphoric signal deep into my programming.

I find myself attracted to trans energy mostly.

Grindr is a numbers game in Los Angeles. There’s so much flakiness you become accustomed to being ignored or conversations end abruptly. Not to mention that hooking up here is so governed by travel times which fluctuate wildly throughout the days asymmetrical commuting times, that the whole affair can be a non-started at the outset.

But she responded. Glorious brunette, with long wavy hair, small pursed lips and an aloofness that immediately activated my pathological desire of the emotionally unavailable. What can I say, my mother fucked me up.

She — let’s call her Adeline — lived about 10 minutes away, so in an abundance of well-heeled politeness cut with impatient lust, I went to pick her up.

Cue the usual slightly coy banter as we both worked each other out during the ride. The dissipation of fear which comes with these Grindr “dates” for traps, which always carry a soupçon of terror to them and see us scrambling to etch a last will and testament into our iPhone notes app and share location with friends as it plays out.

I emerged from the bathroom topless.

Oh fuck, she thought, nipple piercings. The most physical symbol of deviance there is.

We started making out on the sofa and immediately some force took a hold of me. I felt like our bodies were fusing inside a blacksmith’s forge. We were glitching like a hacked mainframe, opening up its secrets to Snowden’s deft digital lock-picking. We were like people who hadn’t eaten in days set loose on a Vegas buffet.

I ran my hands over her back and through her hair, interlocking my teeth around her neck and ears. Almost epileptic in spasms of uncontrollable, uncensored I searched for my frontal cortex and managed to articulate that we should move to the bedroom.

My friend S had told me to expect fireworks in my first T4T experience. Their look of both shock and empathetic excitement registered on their FaceTime framed face.

They hinted at the dynamic’s incendiary force with an elliptical smile, leaving me hanging like a teaser trailer.

“I can’t explain it, but there’s just something to that energy, that vibe. I’m so excited for you. Like fucking excited!”

And Jesus fucking christ, they were right. I can see why they held off on the detail. Language fails.

We made our way to the bedroom where I revealed my kink drawer. There’s a cornucopia of debauchery in this unassuming pine wood piece of furniture: masks, paddles, leashes, collars, nipple clamps and floggers.

We negotiated our limits, settling on consensual non-consent. In short, anything goes.

We couldn’t have been more perfectly matched. When she initially shared photos with me on the app she gave a trigger warning around the bruises I’d see. It just so happened that impact play and relishing in the blues, browns, yellows and purples of corporeal graffiti aftermath was something we shared.

“I don’t care if you draw blood,” I assured her.

“Well ok then, you pathetic little slut,” she hissed, “lay the fuck down.”

I hadn’t fully anticipated how rapidly she would turn on the sadistic domme energy and I didn’t question it. I couldn’t.

Mmmmmmmmm, mama’s hungry, I thought as my crotch began to throb.

I don’t need to pull my punches, she thought, I can really indulge this deeper cruelty in me.

“Yes, mistress!” I responded, getting into role as the slut spit dump I’d soon become.

I lay down.

“Open wide, slut,” she ordered as she spat on my face, all the while positioning her mouth over mine and dribbling long translucent threads of drool onto my tongue and down my throat. She lunged for my neck with lupine grace and hunger, digging her teeth in and unleashing eddies of dopamine and oxytocin. I could feel the fledgling bruises on my neck and knew they’d be difficult to hide but at this point she could have pushed a blade into my lungs and I’d have kissed her while the blood bubbled out of my mouth.

These were feelings I had never felt before.

It was like all my shame, low self-esteem, trauma, alienation, anxiety and isolation channeled a lightning strike turning sand into clear shards of luminescent glass.

It felt both individual and collective, all ruptures and salvation of minority stressed gender fuckery, raining down and being soaked up. An effervescent tribal alchemy of ecstatic release.

The power of consensual degradation cannot be underestimated. I took years of being trodden down by things beyond my control. The abuse of my mother, the deprivation of affection, the laundering of all currencies of love through a front of cold calculation. All of this turned to steam through the act of my submitting to it with someone who also made me vibrate with light. All of those times when I had no fucking say in what happened to me, as humanity depriving as it was and violently unfair, I now took back. I resignified it, reclaimed it, decolonized and liberated it.

She attached the leash to my collar and yanked me onto the floor.

“If you’re a good girl, you’ll get a treat.” She said sternly, with the consummate control of a well-etched domme.

Up until now, she’d only really experimented with this role but now, she leapt up into the saddle ready for battle. From where I crouched, lapping up her girl dick with such an eagerness to please, it felt like she’d been doing this all her life.

In the dawn of her 20s, this girl came with a level of sexual confidence and experience that can only be found in trans circles. It’s like our bodies are always searching for each other with odyssean ardor. Simultaneous electrons suspended in tandem states.

I clambered back onto the bed like a dog and she straddled me, our girl dicks entwined in her hand with a vibrator in between. Edging, foreplay, the beautiful mirage of the female orgasm which rises and falls, ebbs and flows, coming into focus then going blurry as the mind and the body speaks in foreign tongues.

It was the kind of sex you never want to end. Constant punishment, submission, bratty deliberate misbehavior, retaliation, good behavior and treats.

“You told me you were going to cum you fucking whore. Well, are you?!” she cursed.

“Fuck my pussy, mistress. I need something in me so I can cum for you.”

One, two, then three fingers entered me as she celebrated my gaping hole.

“I love how loose you are.”

Ugh, I felt so seen. I’ve been trying to make my ass loose for years. It’s been one of my sexual north stars. I want to be able to get entire cities inside me. Until my neo-puzzy arrives, my ass has been my pussy substitute and I’ve wanted her to stretch until my bud becomes labia and turns from circle into that canal like corridor of floral ingress.

It didn’t take long, with my ass full of her hand, and I reached that liquidless trap climax and lay there panting, dripping in spit, sweat, and a sense of sexed gender euphoria I had waited 39 years to feel.

Who knew that in order to feel my most beautiful, it would take this level of degradation.

We languished, dripping in sweat and overtaken by an exhaustion which was held in abeyance by the relentless motor of sex.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to do that again,” I said, with the last remaining energy and breath left in me.

“We might not be able to. I’m probably moving to Berlin in a few weeks,” she responded with a signature level of matter-of-factness and regret.

Afterword

This is a post from Threads that resonated with me.

@aspirationaltea I think this post is me realizing T4T lesbian is the full explanation of my sexuality at least?

That’s how I walked away from the experience with Adeline. Literally and figuratively changed forever. In one fell swoop a single lover had the power to make me feel seen for the first time in my life.

Now of course any first time has the potential to carry the hyperbole of its impact. But the water that slacks the thirst of the desert stranded is the exact same water we all drink. The difference, however, is life saving.

I would usually chalk up an experience without more penetration as fun but not fulfilling. In this scene I had a few fingers inside me for a few minutes. And yet I lost all sense of time and place, sinking into the experience like feet in clittoral sand.

It was pure T4T lesbian sex, as much connection, edging and build as it was a wham bam teleology. The purpose was communion and connection.

T4T sex transfigures and transubstantiates the entire experience into a physical act. Inside every bite, kiss, spit, yank, finger and curse, was a microcosm of the entire experience of trans identity. Eucharist anointed trap fantasy.

Our shared struggles, estrogen shortages, dirty glances turned our way, rejections. Our alignments, the joyful tears t-girls shed over the smallest things as their emotional synapses reinitiate, our first sports bra. Everything is there, unspoken but enacted ritualistically like the world is burning all around us and we carry on regardless. Which is, alas, what it feels like a lot of the time.

At the core of the experience was the abiding sense of safety which comes from being intimate with someone who knows how important it is to cultivate that in as many spaces, few though they may be, as possible.

In addition, the dimension of kink/BDSM brings its own magnetic locus of individuation and resignification. We find submission, abjectification, degradation, and pain paired up with consent, control, compassion, negotiation, communication, and transcendence. We recontextualize experiences which in every other life domain are precursors or consequences of socially aberrant behavior or undesirable hierarchical role playing.

Whether the sub is in control or the dom is, just as with tops and bottoms, is a question for the ages. The person under the thumb, in so allowing it, arguably possesses some power over the person they artificially and consensually elevate to that position. When you have nothing to lose because you have relinquished it, you can only be net positive existentially.

The point is the horizontal socialism of the trans lesbian experience. No one person controls. All are equal and the roleplay is merely an enactment of the end of dominion by external forces.

For what baits the enemy like getting back on your feet or smiling in their face? As blood streams out of your nostrils and you turn to face your captor ready for another beating, you demonstrate an unwavering faith in the ultimate form of the Golden Rule: if your enemy strikes you, turn the other cheek and ask, “Have I been a good girl, Mistress?”

[gophergal]

Author Commentary - I Know Where to Look (Chapter 1)

Howdy y'all! I just posted the first chapter of my first tf2 fic, and figured that rambling about my thought processes from writing it would be fun. So, enjoy?

Welcome to my first Author Commentary post!

Regardless of if anyone other than my best bud (and partner in word crimes) @cursed—alien read these going forward, I thought it would be fun to explain references and thoughts from the process of fic writing. These are the sort of thing I love to know about my favorite art. I’m a great lover of artist interviews (specifically the ones where the artist in question explains the development of the concept and reasoning for the techniques they use) and an avid reader of author’s notes, so I hope that if anyone reading my fic is like me that they will enjoy this addition to the story.

Formatting

I feel that the most notable thing about this fic is that, despite being rated as explicit, every explicitly sexual scene is under a cut. Why do this instead of just making the scenes fade to black or formatting it in a standard manner? Because, dear reader, I have had the experience of reading explicitly rated fic solely for the buildup to the smut scenes. I experience fluctuations between sex favorability to neutrality, all the way to aversion. When I’m feeling uncomfortable with explicit sexual content, I often wish there was a way to just skip those scenes entirely. But on the other hand, I also acknowledge that sex scenes CAN have narrative and character importance. For the specific dynamic that Corey and I envisioned for Red Oktoberfest- that being a relationship that starts as professional and sexual before becoming emotionally involved, those scenes would be a shame to ignore entirely on my part.

Behaviors and thoughts during sexual intimacy are rich with characterization, and I wanted to be able to express that. So, the best of both worlds, to me, was to have a second layer of opting in to reading those scenes. I may have to redo them later, however, because the way I had to go about it doesn’t work with pdf downloads and likely isn’t screen reader accessible. My current thoughts in regards to those problems is to encourage folks to download as some other format, and eventually create a podfic of this story.

Headcanons Involved

Something you may notice about this is the amount of headcanon I’m trying to cram into it. To be frank, I use most fic writing as a vehicle with which to go “look at my headcanons, boy”, so this isn’t surprising.

The first of which I would like to note is Heavy’s love of pulp romance. I couldn’t tell you why I first thought of it, but it’s grown on me like moss. Mikhail is a lover and a fighter. To me. In my heart. He views all art for what it is, and values the stories themselves pretty equally. The only important difference between the two books he’s carried with him from Russia and the pulp he’s collected in the US is sentimentality.

Speaking of those books, why the two I picked? Brothers Karamazov is a pretty obvious choice. It’s a classic and widely studied. Tsar Hunger by Leonid Andreyev, however was actually mentioned by name in Poker Night At The Inventory. In one conversation, Tycho asks Heavy what his favorite book is, to which he replies that he “prefers war.” Eventually, though, he does end up saying that he likes Tsar Hunger. I wanted to know if this was just a book picked at random, or if it actually meant something about Telltale’s interpretation of Heavy’s character. After all, the tumblr side of the fandom LOVES Heavy’s PhD in Russian Literature. It was. A BITCH. To find any information about that book. There isn’t a goodreads page for it. Or a wikipedia. Or even an amazon page selling copies. Like, what the fuck? Eventually, I found that the Internet Archive has it available to borrow by the hour. The particular copy that was archived was originally from the University of Texas and has a fabric cover. So no synopsis.

At this point I was thinking “oh my fucking god I’m two hours into this research process,” and decided I wouldn’t be reading King Hunger. I’ve skimmed it a bit and, filling in the blanks with some guesses based on the information Wikipedia provided about the author, it’s a symbolic/expressionist criticism of the monarchy, but one which also criticizes bloody revolution. Please take that with a pound of salt though. Once again, I spent a solid three hours getting to that amount of understanding.

This actually leads me to discussing another element that’s important to my interpretation of Heavy. Namely, who is father was. On r/TF2, I constantly see people arguing back and forth whether its fine to joke about Mikhail being “Heavy Communism Guy” or if that’s a gross misunderstanding since his father was declared a counterrevolutionary. (Meanwhile these same dimwits are happily joking about Medic being a member of a certain fascist regime, but I digress)

Personally, I think Mikhail’s father (who I will be calling Ivan Melnyk going forward, as I headcanon Heavy’s full name to be Mikhail Ivanovich Melnyk) was counterrevolutionary, but not anti-communist. That venn diagram isn’t just a circle my friends. In political matters, it’s very easy to get stuck in black and white thinking- and that’s fair for large matters- but, when it comes down to how people believe they should go about making changes, that’s where you get in-fighting between allied groups.

More clearly, I believe that Ivan was a man who believed in progress and common good, but found disproportionate violence distasteful. And he would have tried to impart those values on his son. However, Ivan’s death and his family’s imprisonment would really sour that for Mikhail. It adds a level of complexity where he is both someone who hates senseless violence (see: the sparrow story in Poker Night), but is extremely wrathful (see: the engineer story in Poker Night).

Switching gears, let’s talk respawn. Personally, I like the idea of it as something that exists in universe, rather than just being a game mechanic in the Documentary Video Game About the Gravel Wars. It adds some more leeway for goofy shit the mercs can get up to while also opening up more avenues for mentally trauma. Angst my beloved.

Respawn

Respawn, in my mind, works by teleporting the remains to a mechanism that then recycles the matter into a pre-programmed form. I imagine that this is updated every day for the TF2 mercs, but only by the week or month for the Classic era systems. Upon exiting respawn, subjects may experience “respawn sickness,” which includes symptoms of nausea, diziness, anxiety, sensitivity to light and sound, disorientation, soreness, ect. One can become accustomed to respawn over time, and this is expedited by the modern systems, but some might remain sensitive to respawn even after years of use.

TFI standard protocol is to switch respawn systems over to the older system in order save money and perform diagnostics/maintenance without risking the permanent death of one of their “specialists.”

Another book note

The passage Heavy reads at the end is from a novella called Special Nurse by Lucy Agnes Hancock. It is Yet Another book I haven’t read, but decided to reference. Originally, I had wanted to reference a Harlequin Romance published in 1960-63, as I really didn’t want to include that flavor of anachronism. Dont fucking ask me why, but it mattered to me. However, the vast majority of what I could find online to read was published between 1975 and 1998. There were three books that technically fit my requirements, but the two from 1961 were either vacation romance or noble romance. Which just didn’t fit the vibe I was looking for. And the one from 1963 was published in November of that year. Which would have been fine, but I envisioned this chapter taking place in late May or early June.

In the late 40’s to mid 60’s Harlequin published SOOOOO many hospital romances. And this amused me, so I desperately wanted Heavy to be reading one. But I searched multiple times and just. Couldn’t find any that I could skim through. Fuck, dude, I couldn’t even find samples or excerpts. I COULD BARELY FIND SYNOPSES. I got desperate and dug through my mom’s old romance novel collection and lo and behold, there it was. Special Nurse. It’s not Harlequin (published by Pocket Books) and it wasn’t technically from 60-63 (originally published in 1948, but received 5 print runs from 1950-19060. Mine is from August 1960), but it WAS A DOCTOR ROMANCE. HUZZAH.

Dear fucking lord why do I do this shit to myself ahhhhhhhh

[isnt-it-pretty]

Wip #6

The other wips I've posted are linked in this post.

This piece was inspired by this post I made because I wanted to write a fic with a visually impaired character. I'm actually visually impaired, although differently from what I gave Cyno.

It was written pre windblume so there's no Cyrus in Cyno's backstory.

...

Cyno didn't need to see to use the Akasha. It was a blessing he hadn't anticipated upon arriving at the Akademiya-- he'd been prepared to squint down at books, trying to read the letters his eyes refused to focus on until pain blossomed in his head. Instead, he sits in his dorm room, the curtains pulled closed so that the light won't bother him, and sorts through the knowledge instantly available to him. 

Unfortunately for him, the Akasha didn't have everything. Or at least, Cyno wasn't authorized to view everything. He had less access than his peers did, despite being in the same classes-- a testimet to how unwanted he was in the Akademiya, and another reason he hid the truth. 

If everybody knew, it would only be another thing that set him apart, another card stacked against him. No, he would make do as he was. 

He stood in the library, trying to ignore the quiet study groups dotted around the room. Most of them ignored him in return, but even without seeing, he could sense the eyes of some lingering on his back. It made him anxious, the sleeves of his robes pulled down to cover his hands as he tried to find the book he needed. The spines were blurred into a mess of colours, the titles and authors indistinguishable-- the only reason he knew he was in the correct section was because he swallowed his pride and asked. At least the librarian had been friendly as she pointed him in the right direction. 

The thing about Cyno was that he could see, just not well. He had no problem distinguishing movement or light from shadow. Bright lights gave him headaches that pounded against his skull, and could only focus through one eye at a time, but he could still see. It just meant reading was difficult, as was taking notes and tests. And, of course, he couldn't find the books he needed. 

"Need some help?" somebody asked, and Cyno flinched. 

Normally it was more difficult to sneak up on him, but he'd been distracted. 

"Sorry," they said, their voice deep and masculine as they rubbed the back of their neck. "I didn't mean to surprise you. You just looked like you could use some help."

Cyno narrowed his eyes. He didn't trust whoever this was-- just a blur of gold and green. Nobody ever wanted to help him. 

The other student didn't seem bothered by his reaction, instead stepping into the space next to Cyno to look at the books. 

"Which are you looking for?" he asked, and Cyno hesitated. 

On one hand, he didn't want to give anybody an opening to ridicule him. On the other, at this rate he wouldn't find it at all. 

"The Ambient Elemental Fluctuations of Visions in Relation to Leyline Overflows," he replied. 

The student hummed, his eyes presumably scanning the texts. A moment later, he stepped forward and pulled a book off of a high shelf-- higher than Cyno could have reached. 

"This one?" he asked, handing the book to Cyno. 

Cyno accepted it and squinted down at the cover. The letters were larger than the spine, and while he couldn't see them all, he could make out enough to know it was the correct book. It was. 

"Thank you," Cyno said. He held the book to his chest and looked at the other student, struggling to make out his face. 

He thought the other boy smiled, but it was difficult to tell. 

"Anytime. Oh, I'm Kaveh by the way."

"Cyno," he said.

Kaveh seemed kind. Cyno wasn't sure how to respond to that. He half expected that when he turned his back, Kaveh would do something cruel, but when he muttered a quiet thank you a second time and scurried away, nothing happened.

-End-

...

Note: As a visually impaired person I hold blind and visually impaired characters very close to my heart. As usual I'm begging you to research and avoid common tropes when writing these characters, because of I see another blind seer character or "dead/souless eyes" I'm going to scream.

[joywindsong]

Alyarus Sarron

Alias: The Seductive Bandit, reputation of using her charm to lure in potential victims

Residence: Stormwind

Birthplace: Eversong Woods

Race: High Elf

Class: Outlaw Pirate

Age: 216

Known family: Moraliuen Sarron, of the Horde

Physical description:

Approximately 5'4 with a petite build. Carrying most of her weight in her lower body in her thighs and hips. Has smaller breasts and a bit of muscle tone in her arms, back and stomach. Eyes are bright blue with one scarred and dull due to an injury at the hands of a bounty hunter. Hair goes past her shoulders and can fluctuate from a dark red to orangish color from exposure to the sun. Skin tends to remain pale but does tan occasionally.

Personality:

Alyarus is ultimately driven by a strong will to survive. She is willing to resort to desperate measures without a second thought. Her life has mostly felt like a battle of survival between a lack of funds or threats to her physical safety. Growing up Alyarus often felt helpless. She takes pride in her ability to come out on the other side of dangerous situations and overcome. Often she comes off as contentious or antagonistic, but she is also a very curious person with good observational skills. She can also be incredibly vulnerable with little effort, but ready to bite back at anyone who takes advantage of her. It's possible that she puts herself in vulnerable situations specifically to prove to herself that she is capable even in her weakest moments.

Current status:

Pardoned for past crimes by the Kingdom of Stormwind because of her extensive service to Kul'Tiras, and by extension the Alliance, during the Fourth War.

Rarely partakes in sailing or pirate activities these days. Can often be found wandering Stormwind restlessly reflecting on what she wants from the world as a relatively young elf.

Notes

Loosely inspired by Nami from One Piece

Character backstory explored in The Seductive Bandit series on this blog (some developments on profile not yet touched on) linked below (parts 1&2 combined).

Would love to find someone to commission for accurate artwork of Alyarus. Preferably someone with a more realistic style or something resembling the style of WoW or shonen anime or western action cartoons. If you have any suggestions for artists please lemme know c: (feel free to make fanart if you're inspired by the profile or story, but I would like to pay for someone with a style I like to draw her.)

[joz-yyh]

Rust - Ch. 6

SUMMARY: A “how they got together” and “where they are now” fic in which I detail how Damian and Tardif meet and consequently fall in love. No beta. Read at your own risk.

RATING: EXPLICIT (for violence / sexual themes)

PAIRING: Bounty Hunter x Flagellant / (Crusader x Highwayman -> established relationship) / (Grave Robber x Plague Doctor -> established relationship)

WORD COUNT: 7,493

READ ON AO3: Here

A/N: Very important note, but this chapter contains another FLASHBACK.

I’ve been meaning to explore other ships/characters while Damian and Tardif are off doing their own thing so that means I’ll be adding in the Reymas sidestory I previously posted as well as some cute Grave Robber x Plague Doctor content.

There will also be a FLASHFORWARD towards end where I tease upcoming events. I’ll be sure to mark this segment appropriately.

Reynauld drags Dismas out for some quality time and smutty hijinks ensure. Audrey tries to dig up dirt on Tardif and Damian’s relationship by inviting the flagellant out to the cove for some one-on-one girl talk. The bounty hunter returns, but it’s not the same way when he left.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–

“Hmm,” Reynauld mutters, gauntlet-clad fingers curled under his helmet in reserved contemplation.

His blue eyes survey the capricious wares of the nomad wagon, gold and silver chains strung up in a row, display boxes of brooches and other acquired oddities arranged beneath.

Presented with such antiquities, Reynauld by no means claims to be as knowledgeable as Josephine, but over time, he’s picked up a few tricks of the trade, appraising each of the pieces laid out before him, weighing their rarity and purpose.

“Just pick something already,” comes Dismas’ insurgent groan, his words swiftly accompanied by an impatient upheaval of his arms into the otherwise peaceful air. 

You’d think the knight was downright torturing him, but then again, the highwayman was especially weak to boredom.

“Perhaps, I’ll check back another time,” the knight says, addressing the demure fortune teller running the shop. 

“Seriously,” Dismas asks, his arms an inverse of the gesture he made before, incensed fingers spread open in a hollow fist by his knees. 

The swordsman unfurls from the wagon window, having been bent into an investigative hunch whilst he perused the counter.

He raises a speculative eyebrow at his companion, the look of Dismas’ dark eyes telling him that he was being an insufferable pain.

“You drag me all the way out here just to spend all that time window shopping and now you’re not even goin’ to buy anything,” Dismas surges, the vein in his forehead giving a poignant twitch of anger.

The Romani woman smirks, resting her chin on the splay of her ringed fingers as she watches the lovers bicker like an old married couple. This is by far the most entertaining thing she’s seen all day. 

The knight nods to himself, having made up his mind, “Yes, I really do think it’s best that I wait.”

In an expression of his inner turmoil, Dismas tilts his head back and heaves out a long, throaty groan.

Reynauld ignores him, bidding adieu to the raven-haired shopkeeper, their business concluded.

She winks at him in return, blowing a kiss and wagging her long nails, “Don’t keep me waiting too long, handsome.”

Dismas shoves his hands into his pockets as they set off towards the barracks, shoulders tense with aggravation, the fur on his jacket coming up to cover his wind-blown ears.

“Still can’t believe you made me wait all that time just so you could–” Dismas cuts himself off, recognizing the glimmer of treasure.

“Oh, you sly dog,” the highwayman whistles, regarding his partner with astonished pride, pulling down his neckerchief to showcase the shit-eating grin plastered across his scarred face, “You didn’t! 

"I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re talking about,” Reynauld says, the fluctuation of his tone much too fake and effervescent to be considered innocent. 

“C'mon,” Dismas chuckles, nudging his elbow into the knight’s arm and wagging his eyebrows suggestively,“Confess.”

“The item had already been discarded when I discovered it,” Reynauld says, explaining the appearance of the inconspicuous trinket.

Dismas can spot bullshit from a mile away. Takes a thief to know a thief.

“Uh-huh, whatever you say sticky fingers,” Dismas jives, giving the crusader a smug look, the pronounced scars on his face seeming to extend his smirk even more. 

Reynauld risks a glance, taking in the gold fillings that alight the man’s smile, making it more dazzling than it already is, just one of many endearing traits hidden behind the mask of his red scarf.

“It’s value would be better served to fund the church,” is the knight’s assertion, the gravelly baritone indicating that he was becoming annoyed with his partner’s games.

Dismas expects as much. Reynauld was running on a short fuse whenever his credibility was called into question.

“Oh, speaking of church, you went on a mission with that new guy, right? The one that flogs himself half to death. How was he? You two hit it off,” the thief asks.

The knight turns to the highwayman, burning with jealousy, the emotion tangible behind the slots in his helmet “Why the sudden interest in him?" 

Dismas snickers to himself, facing forward now to avoid the fire in his partner’s eyes, "Oh, I don’t know, maybe because he’s the new thing in town and the folks here don’t have enough to gossip about. Figured you might have the inside scoop on him.”

Rey deadpans, growing more frustrated with each passing minute, “Day by day, we stake our lives against corruption and yet you say there’s nothing more pressing to talk about other than a stark raving lunatic?”

“Yes,” Dismas replies with a shaky uncertainty, posing the word as a question.

Reynauld makes a caustic sound of disgust,“I thought it was surely a joke when I heard the Order accepted the aid of such extremists. It’s disgraceful. Unorthodox.”

Dismas’ eyes widen, caught off guard by his friend’s uncanny ferocity, especially when it came to a fellow believer of the Light. 

“So… you’re not a fan then,” the highwayman concludes.

Reynauld barks out a laugh.

“Hardly,” he jests, voice aimed skyward, the exemplative sounding much louder when he realizes that his motley companion is not laughing along with him.

“Is it not the same for you,” the knight asks, fixing his partner with a perplexed look of surprise, his criticism hanging heavy in the space between them.

“Well,” the squirrely man drawls, shrugging his shoulders, “I haven’t really met the guy  and I am not one to judge. Wouldn’t want to make assumptions. Haha, that holy book you keep trying to drill in my brain must finally be rubbing off on me.”

Reynauld stops dead in his tracks, but Dismas doesn’t catch on until a few paces later, reciprocating the action once he learns that he’s left the other behind.

A possessive kind of stare is brewing behind the darkness of the swordsman’s helmet, one that worries the highwayman into thinking that this light-hearted teasing of his has gone a bit too far, crossing some invisible line in the sand.

Dismas returns to the balking crusader’s side, ducking around him playfully to show he meant no harm.

“Don’t worry, big guy, you’re the only churchboy I am after,” the thief reassures him, putting on a lopsided smile, giving the knight a light jab against his pauldrons.

Rey doesn’t budge, not even a twitch of good humor, a prosecution of sins unrectified. With an aura of predatory malaise, the knight advances on him, gripping a fistful of his jacket, enough that the gunman can hear the threads squeak from the strain.

The red-nosed bandit is lifted, boots nearly gliding off the ground as he’s dragged along by the collar. 

“H-hey! Rey,” Dismas tries nervously, breaking out into a cold sweat, “barracks are t-that way.”

“I know where the barracks are,” the knight declares, leading the smaller man towards the stone bridge with determined, self-righteous steps, “We’re taking a detour." 

Dismas feels a knot twist his stomach, not daring to resist as he’s led past the gray cinderblocks of the abutment and down through the small ditch of grass.

There might have been a thriving river here at one point, but like most things in this backwater town, it’s long since dried up.

Safely hidden beneath the arch of the voussoir overpass, the swordsman finally releases him, shoving him towards a collection of old supply crates growing musty from the elements.

The highwayman reaches out to stop himself from collapsing into the mud, gloved hands hugging onto either side of the wooden box. 

Despite Reynauld taking him by the scruff and distributing him here, Dismas finds that he’s the one panting from exertion, pinpricks of warmth crawling up his neck, his cheeks burning red.

Pinching his eyes shut, he collects himself with a few deep breaths, flipping himself around to confront the overzealous crusader.

The knight is already standing so close, knee to knee with their bodies almost touching and Dismas shrinks more firmly against the sharp angle of wood at his back.

"What exactly is going on inside that big head of yours,” the highwayman teases, a heavy blush upon his face, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re looking a bit jealous crusader.”

He knows it’s the wrong thing to say the moment that the words leave his mouth, but he wasn’t thinking with his mind anymore.

“The Light demands recompense. I’ll be taking it from you,” Reynauld decrees, hands tugging at the belt that secures his surcoat into place. 

Dismas’ telltale heat intensifies, his body well-versed in the heady string of events, his cock swelling inside the confines of his trousers.

The knight pushes his partner down, the smaller man’s back completely molded to the square block of wood, the boards giving a disruptive creak from the added pressure.

Dismas doesn’t protest when a gloved fist pries at the belts on his vest, spreads it open none too kindly, his shirt following the same fate, the fabric pulled from his trousers and pushed under his chin. 

The outlaw shivers as the cool night air penetrates his feverish skin, his intentions fraying and exposed, groaning with anticipation. 

The visor on Reynauld’s helmet is raised, dark brown locks of hair hanging above crystalline eyes, the man’s beard grazing over wiry muscle as he leans down to suckle an overt nipple.

Dismas gives a hearty tremble then a hiss, Rey’s teeth and tongue working the nub into an unbearable hardness while the other is fondled mercilessly with his thumb.

“Mmrmph, Rey,” gunman begs breathlessly, head tilted back, eyes closed as he concentrates on the sensation.

“Careful Dismas, you’re beginning to echo,” the taller man teases, his words both a warning and a command as he reaches for the highwayman’s belt and all of it goes straight to the ex-con’s groin.

There’s a clatter of something or someone coming from the pier above, jostling them both out of their blissful ministrations.

Rey puts a gloved hand over his lover’s mouth, not trusting him to stay quiet even under these circumstances.

Their uninvited guest is none other than the town crier, sloshing about with a bottle of booze, singing off key as he stumbles along the railway. Strange how they hadn’t heard his approach before, but they listen tentatively now, the trickle of something being spilled off the side of the bridge.

Reynauld meets Dismas yearning gaze, pressing a finger to his own lips in a bid to remain silent and the damned gunman decides it’s a good idea to lick his palm.

Dismas both loathes and loves his decision because his partner grunts, thrusting their clothed bodies together in reparation, the hand against his face squeezing tighter to seal his tongue away.

The drunkard above relieves a startled, “huh,” as he spins around, looking for the source of the noise, but finds the path clear. The hefty weight of footsteps and the clank of glass resumes, continuing onward, the sound of jumbled lyrics gradually fading away.

“You conniving little street rat,” the knight reprimands, taking his hand away so the other can speak his amends.

Dismas just grins at him, mischievous, wanting to continue where they left off.

“Should’ve left you at home,” Rey says more sweetly, “This is what I get for bringing you along.” 

The religious sod holds out his hand, letting the trinket unravel from his fingers to dangle above Dismas’ bare chest. Before him spins a silver band fashioned to a convergence of twin guns, pinned by a pair of hawk wings.

It’s almost too much for Dismas’ lust-buzzed mind to comprehend. 

"Huh? But didn’t you say–”

“I know what I said,” declares the knight in that deep reverberating voice of his, so solid and firm, just like the rest of him,“It would be better spent on the church. Don’t make me regret giving it to you." 

The swordsman is breathing heavily, sweat collecting on his brow, a morbid glare in his bright eyes, though there’s another more tender emotion swirling behind it.

Dismas’ ink-set pupils twinkle in that special way that the crusader lives to see, a characteristic only meant for intimate exchanges like these.

"Well, shucks crusader. I didn’t know you cared,” he taunts, angling his head down in that sultry smolder he knows the other man can’t get enough of, arching one of his dark brows in a clear challenge for more.

“Don’t play with me Dismas,” Reynauld warns, spitting into his free hand, “you should know by now what happens when you do.”

He spreads the meager globs of saliva with a few languid pumps of his hand, erection slick enough to fulfill its purpose, positioning himself against his partner’s core, adding another drop onto where the two of them meet.

“Mmm, yeah … yeah I do,” Dismas moans, biting his lip, eyebrows flicking up to his hairline as he feels that hot length press between his legs ,“why do you think that I ahhhh– by the Light Rey–”

It’s painful and he’s under-stretched, but Dismas doesn’t care, he wasn’t willing to wait. He latches onto his lover’s hips as that holy lance drives into him, moaning out just how much he wants this.

“Yes, I love it when you fuck me just like that,” the ravenette sings, the discomfort a hazy afterthought.

Right now, this glorious knight in shining armor was his and the rugged ex-con wanted to wear that fact like a brand, to feel the touch of their bodies long after the spell of desire has cooled.

“Dismas, what have I told you,” the knight whispers, an azure gaze beholding him with incorrigible fondness.

“That you love me,” the highwayman says, grinning ear to ear.

Reynauld shakes his head with a soft chuckle.

“Yes, and what else,” the knight insists, running his hand through the greasy strands of unruly black hair.

“Rey, please,” Dismas begs, needing him to move, wrapping encouraging legs around his waist.

In nostalgic reverence, the knight trails his fingers down to the scars on his lover’s mouth, those harsh lips parting to grip the digit between his teeth, biting at it lightly.

“You’re too reckless,” the swordsman reminds him, pulling his hand away to retrieve the spoils of tonight’s excursion. “Will you wear it,” the knight asks, trinket captured in his fist as he trails the blunt edges of it over the sharpshooter’s agile front down to his lithe stomach.

“Hmm,” the gunman hums, dizzy with pleasure, the chill of metal raising the hairs on his skin. “Yeah, ‘cours I will. But only if you promise to fuck me again, just like this,” Dismas breathes, grateful to feel the man inside him, the savage friction of their flesh better than any vice he knew.

“It would be my pleasure,” Reynauld says, a kingly smile on his lips as he leans in for a kiss.

Dismas melts under those holier-than-thou lips, forgets about being chaste as his muscles relax around the generous length that splits him open with each hallow thrust. He pulls the man in closer, hands grasping at the back of his helmet, needing more of that abstained tongue and voice, wanting everything this man would give him.

Later, when both of them are sated and dressed, Dismas looks down at the necklace Reynauld had given him, marveling at the pendant in his hand and the charming resemblance it held to his own set of pistols.

The highwayman walks a little closer, their shoulders brushing as he leans his head onto the metallic chrome of a battle-worn spaulder, their hands clasped between them, silver and red embracing each other tightly.

He promises never to take it off.

——–  

Knee-high boots step stealthily around the abbey, pilfering hands guiding the cunning grave robber along as she skirts the concrete at her back, eyes peering around the corner of the penance hall.

Strangely the flagellant is outside his pious chamber, knelt down next to a series of graves bearing the names of clergymen, tending to the onset of spring weeds.

Nothing beautiful lasts in Hamlet. The colorful blossoms of flowers are a luxury rarely seen and aside from the few modest patches of turf marked by trimmed hedges and somber statues of saints passed, the Abbey doesn't have much of a garden.

The silent sleuth stands to her full height, this scene calling for a more personable approach.

"Hey, Damian," Audrey calls, gentle and grounded, waving at him sweetly as she steps through the teasings of grass.

The holy man jolts at her presence, a decade of people watching telling her that his mind is miles away, deep in thought.

"Audrey, good to see you," Damian replies, twisting around to meet her casual demeanor. He discards the overgrowth of roots in his hand, brushing the soil from his robe as he rises to his feet.

Her sharp eyes notice the vibrant yellow of plucked dandelions and the delicate white of queen anne’s lace placed upon the crowns of these simple headstones and she feels a distant pang of sympathy.

"What brings you here? Have you come seeking the path of Light," he says, smiling.

Audrey shoots him a saucy grin in return.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but that's not why I am here. You get points for persistence, though,” she giggles softly, the sound warming her throat. 

The holy man deflates when he hears this, his altruism giving her too much credit if he truly believed she would ever devote herself to a lifestyle of prayer and prudence.

"Then, how is it that I can help you,” he asks, his countenance suffering, looking more ragged at the disappointing news. 

Damian really shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up, but there’s something else eating at him, Audrey can tell by the grimace hiding just below the surface, the slack of his seemingly gracious front.

"Would you be so kind as to accompany me out to the cove? That is, if you're not too busy," she asks, her upturned fingers pointing at what remains of his apparent yard work. 

“As humbled as I am to hear your request, wouldn't it be wiser to have a group of us go," the priest suggests, leaning further towards suspicion.

So, the flagellant is not as dim-witted as she heard, but then again, the shrewd thief didn’t make it very hard for him to figure out her motivations were far from noble.

"This isn't exactly an official mission," the lady explains, "You know all those slimy fishmen we made into sashimi last week? I got it on good authority that the tide is about to wash up a hoard of treasure from their vault." 

Having no interest in wealth and riches, Damian doesn't look any more convinced by her proposal.

This called for a change of strategy.

Her direct approach might have been a bust, but maybe some open-ended honesty blended with a bit of flattery could steer the conversation in her favor. 

"OK, you got me,” she says, holding her hands up in arrest, “I know you'd just use your share for charity anyhow, but if it's just split between the two of us, we won't have to divvy up the profits let's say … any more than 60/40."

Damian sighs in disappointment. This request of hers reeked of greed and selfish intentions at best.

"C'mon pleeeease," she begs, the brim of her hat casting a shadow over her sniveling face, "There's no one else to ask and you're so good at making all the bad guys bleed."

The flagellant had allowed the ex-matriarch to plead her case and while he disagrees with her ideology, he doesn't want the woman traversing the arduous dens of merfolk alone. Should anything untoward happen to her, whether it was in the name of profit or not, he would feel wholly responsible.

"Very well," he sighs, acquiescing, already regretting his decision, though he knew this burden was one he had to shoulder til the end.

"Excellent," She cheers, clasping her hands in delight, crocodile tears suddenly extinguished in light of her success, "Shall we be off, then?"

"I will meet you at the crossroads," Damian says, his gaze now turned towards the church, pensive as the sun shines its beacon over the campanile, "I must let the abbot know of my absence." 

—--

Reposed against the sturdy trunk of a tree, Audrey waits in the dark stretch of woods just off the beaten path, safely hidden from view.

Though the streets had been reasonably quiet (as it normally was after a gentle tide), she wasn't about to stand out in the open with a target on her back, trail bereft of carriages and foot traffic be damned.

The grave robber kills time by giving herself a manicure, wheedling the sharp edge of her dagger under her fingernails, somehow never getting them completely free of sediment, the black rings of soil forever embedded into her skin.  

With a flicker of movement from up the way, the hood of Damian's holy saunter comes into view. His approach is not the most soft-footed, nor is the rattle of his flail, but Audrey's keen ears picked it up all the same.

She pockets the knife, glad that this boorish interlude was over, striding up the hillbank to meet him. 

The flagellant stops, the cloak of illusion fading before his eyes, the rogue's impressive skills of subterfuge making her appear out of nowhere, the environment bending to her candlestein whims.

"About time you showed up, holy man," Audrey jeers, prickly, "Don't you know it's bad manners to keep a lady waiting?"

"Apologies," the flagellant huffs, not willing to dive deeper into the matter.

She clicks her tongue at his reluctance, scoffing at his frowning face. 

"One of these days, I am going to get you to lighten up around me," the grave robber asserts, arms crossed in a sassy, cockeyed pose.

He gives her an injured look in return, unable to commit to such a possibility in the foreseeable future. 

"OK, let's just put a pin in it for now," she resigns, bleakly tagging it on a metaphysical bulletin board.

"Anyways, you ready to go,” the woman asks, dropping a hand onto her hip, the other raised to usher in their departure.

The flagellant solemnly nods his accord and Audrey grins, leading the way. 

The grave robber lets the silence hang between them for a few more paces, her lure not working as perfectly as predicted, but Damian was here, an unwitting informant, and that's all she really needed.

The holy man is not quite walking evenly beside her, but trails slightly behind and it's probably a smart move on his part, though pure vigilance wouldn't stop her from springing a trap if she truly desired, indeed one was already set.

According to her sources, the gruesome newbie never shuts up, an endless stream of religious chatter and unwelcome blessings, but so far the flagellant was not at all the intrusive nuisance she'd been led to believe.

Could it be subjective? Or perhaps this was a phase, an after effect of whatever has been weighing on his mind.

Audrey must debunk such discrepancies, her investigation far from over.

The grave robber clears her throat, parsing the air for a segway of idle chit-chat.

“Given that we have a bit of a walk ahead of us, mind if I ask you something," she broaches, an impish smirk playing out on her ruby red lips.

“If you must,” he replies with a wince, playing along, but bracing himself for the worst of what she could ask him.

Best to cut right to the chase then.

"So … you and the bounty hunter, huh," she ventures, casually dropping the sensitive topic as easily as striking a fuse. 

Dread builds like lard in his stomach, the holy man's cadence becoming jittery, head downcast as he processes her incriminating words. 

The flagellant had had an inkling about this "off the record," outing, and now the full scope of her conniving plot was clear. This trip was merely a pretense to delve into his personal affairs and satisfy her own curiosity.

"The bounty hunter and I what," he inquires innocently, head tilted towards the clouds.

"Exactly what I meant,” she insists, “What is it about him that's got you chasing the man out into the night like a lovesick puppy?"

Damian withdraws, sinking further into himself, reliving the sequence of events. 

Audrey has all the necessary tact for subtly, but being blunt was so much more fun. She blames such proclivities on Dismas. The highwayman was just as prone to mischief and drinking as she was, their late night benders fueling their shenanigans to new heights, egging each other on with evermore daring stunts.

It might have worked against her in this instance, the holy man becoming more reserved.

“Just making conversation,” Audrey adds, shrugging, lowering the stakes. 

“He has great potential," Damian muses, finding his answer, "I hope to illuminate his path."

It sounds too safe, too rehearsed and Audrey isn't buying it.

"Uh-huh, suure," the grave robber drawls, her voice dripping with apparent sarcasm, "Care to try again? Except this time, give me the uncensored version."

The hooded man fixates himself with the ground beneath his feet, fingers rubbing along his lip in contemplation.

"He ... ," the flagellant begins, assessing and reassessing his words with a scowl, "he may also be ... a bit … c-cute."

The mere mental image alone shaves years off of Audrey's life. That man had no business being associated with the term, "cute," or any synonym remotely resembling it. 

"Wa–wa--wa–wait, wait, wait – are we talking about the same guy here," she asks, completely mortified, "Mister short, broody and mysterious? You think that that's … cute?"

"It's his helmet …," the flagellant goes on to explain, the woman's bombardment of questions making him flustered over his own point of view, " it ... reminds me of an owl. Birds are ... cute, are they not?"

"You can't be serious," she breathes more to herself, mouth agape, utterly dumbfounded, "I've met cadavers more personable than him."

"Perhaps," Damian concedes, forcing a smile that's gone as quickly as it comes, running a hand between the spikes of his collar, gripping the tension in his neck, holding onto it like a tether.

Conveniently, they've arrived at the beach, Damian having no trouble transitioning to the amorphous terrain, walking barefoot as he is. Audrey, on the other hand, struggles to navigate through the shifting sand dunes, fit for more rugged landscapes.

Such petty trifles are soon forgotten, the blonde bandit spotting a bountiful chest washed up near the sea shore.

The woman stops, turning to her companion with a smirk.

"Race ya," she wagers, before taking off like a bullet, the force of her sprint kicking up peels of sand.

Damian is left at the start, barely registering there's been a bet before he finally makes a move, the grave robber more than a good lead ahead and he doesn't have the heart to try besting her.

Approaching the finish line, Audrey gives a celebratory little twirl, looking behind her to see where the competition stood. There was no contest, her agile strides assuring her first place, slamming her hand down on the soggy trunk in a sweep of victory.

"C'mon, what was that," she teases, a little out of breath, but not too disappointed with the results, "you let me win."

"The treasure is rightfully yours," he says, catching up to her. 

"How about I give you an extra 15% as a consolation prize," she offers, laughing at his expense, "Since you were such a good sport."

"Why, Audrey," he jokes, sounding coy, "how uncharacteristically generous of you."

The stab of his comeback makes her flush, though she can't be too mad. She did invite him to loosen up earlier.

"Yeah, save it church boy," the woman snips, walking around towards the latch of the chest, "You telling me you've never wanted to buy anything just for yourself?"

Damian's cast shadow spills over her as she lifts the lids, the sparkle of gold inside just as brilliant as the sun dancing on the waves.

"I only take what is necessary to survive," the flagellant tells her, looking away from the crate of spoils and towards the ominous cliff rocks that mark the cove beyond, crossing his arms.

"Your self-sacrificing nonsense is killing me," she pouts, her body wilting dramatically against the doubloons inside, piling them closer to her breast in comfort. 

"A life of piety can be incredibly fulfilling, if you let it," he counters, getting defensive, thinking his companion could afford to be more frugal. 

"I’ll take your word for it," Audrey scoffs, preferring her life just as it was, finding a beautiful silver hand mirror amidst the loot.

Getting an idea, Audrey rakes her gloved hands through the heaps of gemstones and gold, seeking necklaces, bracelets and earrings.

She dresses herself in a glamor of jewelry, strings of pearls poised around her neck, a few larger carat rings to hug her lonely fingers. Fit for a ball, the grave robber admires her new look in the mirror, an ugly reflection of her past staring back at her.

Audrey frowns, lowering the looking glass back into the chest, along with the jewels, locking the contents away.

"Anyway, real talk," Audrey says, quick to change the subject, "Are you going to tell him?"

"Hmm," the morbid priest exclaims, not following her train of thought, concentrating on their surroundings and the gentle rise and fall of the tide.

"The bounty hunter. Did you tell him how you feel," the bandit asks, sitting herself upon the sealed trunk, hands spread leisurely at her sides, legs crossed in the sand, "Did he say he's got a thing for you too?"

Damian goes quiet, fidgeting with his collar to quell his nervousness, but such actions only give him away.

"I already have made my intentions known as best I can," he admits, tone despondent, "though it matters not,” he says more quietly, frustrated in his attempts, but still refusing to give up.

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself," the grave robber says, trying to raise the man’s confidence, "Tardif is a tough nut to crack. Give it time. l think you have a shot at winning him over."

Eyeing the flagellant from top to bottom, Audrey grins wickedly at how perfectly suited these two single bachelors were. One man so in love with pain while the other is in love with causing it. A match made in heaven.

"You certainly have the right kind of body for a guy like that," she concludes, clicking her tongue, firing off a finger gun and a wink.

Damian seems to be bursting into flames as he considers this, his whole body going a shade redder than usual (which was saying a lot).

"May we please drop the subject," the man pleads, averting his gaze and rubbing at his neck again, his collar feeling too tight.

"What's the worst that could happen," she continues, her lips ignorant of his request, carrying on with a lackluster shrug of her shoulders, "He strangles the life out of you for daring to ask him out on a date?"

Damian chuckles modestly, remembering how almost every encounter with the bounty hunter had usually ended with him being tied up or pinned down. He swallows thickly at the prospect, growing hotter at the thought of that man’s hands around his throat.

"I’d bet you'd let him, wouldn't you," suggests her incriminating alto, watching him stew below the brim of her hat, pressing for more tawdry responses, entertaining as it was.

"Hmm," comes the bemused hum and Audrey's not sure if it's an affirmation or not, but she's already got all the evidence she could possibly need, even without his outright confession.

"Then, how about this? You helped me out today so I'll put in a good word for you," the gentlewoman offers, mischievousness abound as she rises to her feet.

"Audrey," he warns, a resounding petition, "You will do no such thing."

"Not that you could stop me," she reminds him, more than capable of playing cupid on her own, "but if that's what you want …"

"Yes, it is. Thank you," he says in relief, more grateful for this act than the 15% commission she had offered him earlier.

Audrey's arms hang out at her sides, marking his loss, her match-making expertise denied. "Well, if you really want to thank me," she taunts, always the betting type, "then show me how much treasure you can carry, hot stuff."

"More than you," he grins cheekily, happy to exchange this feat of physical labor for her discretion.

"That's the spirit," the lady thief cheers, patting him on the shoulder as he bends to lift the heavy coffer now bound for Hamlet.

Audrey gives the holy man a head start as they make their way back, strolling behind him as she reviews her findings, coming to the conclusion that the flagellant wasn't such a bad guy to be around.

Odd, certainly, but no less so than the bounty hunter and while they were all guilty of at least one undesirable quirk or another, Damian was simply more transparent about his shortcomings. 

Spying an "enemy" about to disrupt their path, (more like a harmless crab minding it's own business) the thief springs into action. She snatches up the scuttling crustacean (a carapace of relatively normal size), hurling it back into the ocean before Damian's toes fall victim to it’s pincers.

---

Para sighs, a self-dejected tragedy spoken from behind the changing wall.

"Can't believe I left my lab for this," the intellectual whines, groaning as they brace themselves against the trifold panel, Audrey cinching the corset around their waist a notch tighter.

“Hey, I let you play mad scientist all morning," the ex-aristocrat tuts, pulling on the well-worn strings mercilessly, "Now it's time for you to play fancy dress up with me."

With great effort, the shape-wear flattens against the plague doctor's ribcage, their waist line so tightly constricted that they've broken a sweat. “Are you trying to kill me,” the brunette snarls, gritting their teeth, “What part of this is supposed to be fun?"

"None of it," Audrey affirms with a grin, having the same inane tradition practiced on her more times during her debutante life than she can count, "Not for you, dear. This is all for me.”

The grave robber ties the final knot, securing the shape wear into place (not that her girlfriend's petite figure needed slimming), but this was less about cosmetic enhancement and more about formalities.

“OK, time for the dress,” Audrey declares, brimming with excitement. She strips the mannequin of the velvet gown, a beautiful bliaut of emerald and gold filigree, a perfect compliment to Para's exceptionally dark hair and pale skin.

“Turn and hold onto my shoulders. Then, I’ll have you step into it,” the grave robber instructs, ruffling the neckline as she lays the frock open on the floor, pooled around their feet.

Para does as they're told, watching on as their thin legs are swathed in yards of elaborate fabric, the blonde handmaiden admiring the white undergarments and the matching bustier as she rises up to adjust the fit on the arms, smoothing out the sleeves to accommodate her girlfriend’s much daintier shoulders.

The erotic shiver climbing through boxy-shaped hips doesn't escape Audrey’s notice, the presence of her warm breaths making goosebumps appear on a porcelain neck as she rounds out the gown, buttoning it up at the back.

"There,” the thief exclaims, running her hand over the bodice, “let's see how the front looks on you."

"Why am I doing this again," Para whines, their soul threatening to leave their body, crammed inside a gilded prison as it was.

"Cuz I told you Damian had a thing for Tardif and I was right,” Audrey eagerly reminds the brunette, “Now you gotta pay up.”

Stiffly, the tomboy turns to face their girlfriend, arms held comically out to their side, compensating for a hoop skirt that wasn’t even there. The plague doctor still tries to hunch, though the fabric is fighting to keep them upright, their posture slightly improved. Despite this, the dress runs a little long, (understandably, since it once belonged to Audrey), but the seamstress could easily tailor it to match a hem of shorter height. 

"You look stunning in dark green," the blonde remarks, her breath stolen by such untapped beauty. Para is a vision, a romantic tableau if only they would allow themselves to be styled with these splendid accessories more often, Audrey soaking in the portrait of regality for all it’s worth.

"Thanks, I hate it,” the scholar grumbles, shattering the charming fantasy, “Can I take it off now?”

"Not til you have a drink with me," Audrey declares, removing the wide bifocals from Para’s nose, basking in the rare sight of their frank, unfiltered face. The appearance of fine lines and bruising under their tired eyes spoke of an taxing work regimen and some much needed recreation.

“Aaaudreeeeyyyy,” Para wails, extending her name like a berating curse, “How many times do I have to tell you I can’t see without my glasses.”

The scholar blinks, squinting helplessly, their whole equilibrium off balance, wriggling hands out in front of them for depth of field.

“Shhh, darling you’re just near-sighted,” Audrey reminds them, depositing the spectacles in her jacket pocket for safe keeping. “Here, rely on me,” the blonde says, grasping a small hand inside her own, heralding the plague doctor towards the opposite side of the study.

Para sighs, trudging along at a snail's pace, “Alcohol is going to set back my workflow. I've been experimenting with a contagion and I am so close to devising a–"

The plague doctor cuts themselves off as they’re released, stranded in the carpet of the foyer. Audrey's disappearance is followed by the clink of crystal, the grave robber’s fuzzy shadow no doubt retrieving a set of drinking glasses and a long-necked bottle from the cabinet, fixing the mopey scientist with a look when she returns.

"Fine," Para agrees, rolling their head back with the power of their scoff, knowing Audrey would not budge, "one drink.”

"Marvelous,” Audrey chirps, setting the glasses down on the lace doilies of a mahogany coffee table, “I'll pour!"

Somehow, one drink has turned into two and then three.

Para is now wedged into the corner of an antique couch, their face flush and propped up on the pedestal of their hand while Audrey, conversely, is laying supine in their lap, being fed sweets like a queen.

The grave robber’s hat had been thrown lucratively sometime during the second drink, her ascot as well hangs loosely around her collar, boots stripped so that her long legs could spread themselves out on the cushions. A numbness creeps into the scholar’s legs, the bandit's head nestled comfortably on them as it was, and Para shuffles to instigate blood flow, dropping another chocolate into the waiting mouth below.

"We should invite Josie over,” the blonde thief muses, savoring the rich taste on her tongue, “And Missy… and Margie.”

Para sighs, their introverted tendencies put off by the thought, "You know how I am about large gatherings."

"But I like them," Audrey whines, pouting up at her unmasked girlfriend through long wisps of hair.

"Yes, you do," the scholar agrees, their head drooping further into their hand, adverse to the memory.

"C'mon, it'll be fun," Audrey assures with a drunken giggle.

Suddenly, the blonde bandit is up, wrapping arms around her girlfriend’s neck in excitement, eager to share her stupendous ideas, "There will be tea and gossip and lots of fancy cakes!"

"Oh, joy…," the plague doctor drones, none of these bribes sounding quite as appealing to them.

"Pleeeease? If you do this for me, I'll get you that thing you want,” the thief offers, her green eyes teasing in the lamplight, “You know, that thing you've had your eye on now for a while now."

Para’s ragdoll expression perks up, suddenly interested in what this favor could mean for their research, "Can you really pull it off?"

"Mmm-hmmm," purrs Audrey, nodding with a goofy smile, "If I can win the flagellant over, I can win anyone over, darling."

"OK," Para agrees, much more enthusiastic about the idea of a get-together now, "We’ll throw a party, but only if you can convince Bigby to come.”

"Deal," Audrey squeals in delight, throwing her hands legs out in celebration, sealing their wager with a kiss.

--- FLASHFORWARD*

Damian keeps himself busy, fulfilling whatever minuscule task is asked of him, always listening for news, clinging to hope that the bounty hunter will one day return.

Too many moments pass, the flagellant entertaining the idea of abandoning everything, renouncing his solemn duty in a quest to retrieve the stubborn ox, going so far as to ask Paracelsus what they knew, but even they can only offer conjectures towards a wayward soul’s absence.

Toiling with emotions of longing and grief, Damian decides to visit the cabin once more in solace. He breaks inside, climbing through the boarded windows, the axe he finds stuck in a tree an accomplice to this forced entry.

The flagellant can’t remember why he's come back to this place, not when he’s consumed by memories, his fits of turmoil climbing higher, becoming more manic, berserk. He means to find some clue, a direction, believing it must be there if only he scours for it hard enough.

The blonde spends half the day looking, noting that Tardif had not parted with all of his belongings, some things forgotten that perhaps would not have been if he had truly left for good.

Such emptiness, such wishful fallacy causes him to seek the absolution of his flail. So engrossed in his punitive discipline, he doesn’t notice the clatter of something at the door, not until an explosive bang brings lucidity to his senses.

Instantly, Damian is on his feet, reaching for the latch, knowing in his heart who it must be on the other side.

The wood slams open like a crack of thunder, the winds strong and howling in the night sky, the shadow of the man standing before him nothing short of a ghost.

Tardif.

The bounty hunter is stripped to tatters, armor shredded in more places than the flagellant can count.

Half his helmet is missing, though his skull is still intact, crimson streaking down his face like war paint.

Damian doesn’t have to ask what happened, the unspoken question is reflected in every feature of his face, fear for his partner's life contorting it even further.

“Let … my guard … down,” says the gruff voice, refusing to reveal more whether it would be to his benefit or not.

The stubborn mercenary shuffles closer, a weak hobble that goes completely limp, his legs giving out as he collapses forward, losing what strength he had left to stand.

The flagellant scrambles to catch him before he hits the floor, holding onto his mangled shoulders, taking the brunt of his weight into his possession.

Tardif leans into him, having nowhere else to go, letting the blonde gingerly guide him down.

"I-it's OK now," Damian stutters, trying to convince himself of his own reassurances, "I-i've got you."

Laid out on his back, head cradled safely in his partner's hand, the mercenary's eyes close, grateful to finally rest, though his labored breaths say otherwise.

Damian knows the damage done to his fallen comrade is great, but he must find the worst of it, the scourge of his condition. He cannot waste his energy on effigies, clutters of imitations that mimic a grim fate if there was any chance of saving him.

Pale fingers start with the head wound, a ghastly blossom, deep and circular like a leeche's bite. It's serious, but not what ebbs at the bounty hunter's life.

Following the trail of blood, treading down his neck and jaw with feather light inspections, the flagellant is marveled by the miracle that Tardif still clings to consciousness despite the depth of pain.

"Stay with me," the priest urges, his voice weak with worry, yet tempered with resolution.

Instead of a grunt, Tardif manages a feeble huff, growing weary, head lolling in Damian’s grip.

The flagellant wants to redouble his efforts, move swiftly, but he needs the focus of a stable hand, passing over the integrity of Tardif’s overworked heart and the streams of lacerations with forced moderation. He reaches the girdle of the brute’s utility belt, blood caked so heavily against the gambeson one would think it was carved from red stone, perceiving the mortal wound beneath.

“I-I need to remove this,” Damian tells him, shaking terribly, his voice like broken glass as he looks over his partner's convulsing body, torn apart by injury.

“No,” demands the bounty hunter, his voice wet and garbled, hacking through another spasm of blood.

Even through the harsh battery of torn speech, Damian understands, but that doesn't mean he will listen.

[doctorappliancew21]

Understanding the Costs of Appliance Repair Ottawa: What to Expect

When your refrigerator stops cooling or your washing machine refuses to spin, the last thing you want to think about is the cost of appliance repair. In Ottawa, the costs associated with appliance repair can vary significantly, depending on several factors. This article aims to provide a comprehensive overview of what to expect when it comes to repairing your appliances in the Ottawa area. From common appliances that require repair to average costs and factors that influence these prices, we’ll cover everything you need to know to make an informed decision.

The Importance of Timely Appliance Repair

Appliance repair is often viewed as an inconvenience, but timely repairs can save you money in the long run. Ignoring small issues can lead to more significant, more expensive problems down the line. For instance, a minor leak in your dishwasher could eventually lead to mold growth or water damage in your kitchen. According to the Appliance Repair Council, addressing issues promptly can extend the lifespan of your appliance by 10 to 15 years. In Ottawa, many residents may find themselves contemplating whether to repair or replace their appliance. Understanding the costs involved can assist you in making this critical decision.

Common Appliances Needing Repair

In Ottawa, several household appliances frequently require repairs. Refrigerators, washing machines, dryers, and ovens are among the most common. For example, a malfunctioning refrigerator can lead to spoiled food, while a broken washing machine can disrupt your laundry schedule. According to a survey conducted by the National Association of Home Builders, nearly 60% of homeowners reported having issues with at least one major appliance in the past year. Knowing which appliances are prone to issues can help you take preventive measures and budget accordingly for potential repairs.

Average Costs of Appliance Repair

Understanding the average costs associated with appliance repair in Ottawa can help you set realistic expectations. On average, appliance repair costs in Ottawa range from $100 to $500, depending on the appliance type and the complexity of the issue. For example, repairing a refrigerator can cost between $200 and $400, while fixing a washing machine may range from $150 to $350. It's essential to note that these costs can fluctuate based on the brand of the appliance and the availability of parts. Always obtain a detailed quote from a repair technician before proceeding with any repairs to avoid unexpected expenses.

Factors Influencing Repair Costs

Several factors can influence the cost of appliance repair in Ottawa. One significant factor is the age of the appliance. Older models may require more expensive or hard-to-find parts, resulting in higher repair costs. Additionally, the brand of the appliance can impact pricing; premium brands often have more expensive parts and service fees. Labor costs also play a role, with technicians in Ottawa typically charging between $80 to $150 per hour. Understanding these factors can help you gauge what might be reasonable when you receive a repair estimate.

DIY Repairs vs. Professional Services

Some homeowners in Ottawa may consider DIY repairs to save on costs. While this approach can be effective for minor issues, such as unclogging a drain or replacing a door seal, more complex problems often require professional expertise. According to a study by the Consumer Product Safety Commission, approximately 30% of DIY repairs lead to further damage or safety hazards. If you're unsure about your ability to fix an appliance, it's often best to consult a professional technician who can accurately diagnose and resolve the issue, potentially saving you more money in the long run.

Choosing the Right Repair Service

When it comes to appliance repair, choosing the right service provider is crucial. In Ottawa, numerous companies offer appliance repair services, and it can be challenging to determine which one to trust. Look for companies with positive customer reviews, appropriate certifications, and transparent pricing. The Better Business Bureau is an excellent resource for checking the reputation of repair services. Additionally, ask for recommendations from friends or family who have had positive experiences. A reliable repair service can not only fix your appliance but also provide valuable tips for maintenance and prevention of future issues.

Warranty Considerations

Before proceeding with any appliance repair, check if your appliance is still under warranty. Many appliances come with a manufacturer's warranty that covers specific repairs for a certain period. If your appliance is still covered, contacting the manufacturer or retailer for repairs can save you a significant amount of money. In Ottawa, most appliance retailers offer warranty services that can facilitate the repair process. Always keep your purchase receipts and warranty documentation to ensure you can take advantage of these options.

Conclusion: Making Informed Decisions

Understanding the costs of appliance repair Ottawa is essential for homeowners looking to maintain their appliances without breaking the bank. From knowing the average costs associated with different appliances to considering factors that influence repair expenses, being informed can empower you to make the right choices. Whether you opt for professional repair services or consider a DIY approach, always weigh the pros and cons carefully. Remember that timely repairs can extend the lifespan of your appliances and ultimately save you money. By staying informed and proactive, you can ensure that your home remains comfortable and functional for years to come.

[easyloanhub]

Insider tips to optimise the productivity business budget

Do you want to curate a budget that can work best for your business? There is no exact formula to draft something that you can follow for the time immemorial. Rather, have a mindset that allows you to improvise the budget structure whenever needed.

Not to forget that time will change and so do your business requirements. You cannot create a time-proof standard budget. This is because, at a certain point, you must fast-pace the savings.

There might be times when you have to make adjustments to accommodate a new necessity. However, you must have a budget by your side to maintain financial balance. This is an efficient tool you can use when you have to cope with additional expenses.

This lets you be disciplined when it comes to contributing money to the cash reserve. You can overcome any tricky financial spot relying on it. Imagine you have to take out start-up business loans for bad credit on guaranteed approval in the UK.

These loans are capable of covering your financial needs even when your business has poor credit. Based on affordability, it improves the chances of approval. Now, to make on-time repayment a reality, you would need the support of this budget.

This can show you the avenues you can adjust money for loan payments. To maximise the outcome of having a fool-proof business budget, you can utilise these tips. Read this blog for this purpose.

Optimize your financial strategy for business budgeting

Do not think that budgeting is an easy or tough process. You must give enough time and effort to build a budget for your business. Keeping a tab on the changing marketing trends is a must for business owners like you.

A budget is like a system or approach that can safeguard your business in different situations. As having an emergency fund is one of the basic steps, you can have a safety net to overcome difficulties. There are tips and tricks to help you maximise the benefits of a business budget.

Do not ignore the past forecast

How did your business do in the past? If you are clueless about it, you are not in a safe zone. The past records can tell a lot about the success rates of the strategies so far implemented.

Based on it, you can analyse if getting long-term loans for bad credit from direct lenders will be justified or not. If your business has generated enough revenue, the possibility for savings is good.

Now, if the business cash reserve looks good, repaying loans will not be a big problem. Reviewing the past activities of the venture, you can predict what could happen in the future.

The different costs you must consider are fixed and variable ones. Take note of the sales price and the number of items you have sold within a particular budget period. Most importantly, you should not miss the sales forecast.

Create a calendar for reference

How can you keep track of the things you have analysed so far? Build a calendar and make necessary markings for easy understanding. You must highlight the period when your sales went high or low when you faced difficulty in getting fresh raw materials.

You must remember to understand what could happen due to overstaffing. If you are a newbie business owner, you must have gone through such situations at least once. Keep the consequences in mind.

This calendar can be your best friend when you have to keep track of ongoing trends. You can refer to it even at the time of planning for your business.

Have preparation for market ebbs and lows

You should not expect the market to be constant. Various factors are there to influence the market conditions. The best way to tackle such fluctuations is by having some preparations ahead of time.

Find out which season would be ideal for your business. If you are running an apparel store online, you must think of updating the collection according to the seasons. A flexible approach is expected from your end.

Besides, the economy or political conditions can have an impact on your business. You must be aware of such factors. This is because your venture might have to suffer because of them.

Have strategies in mind according to the situation. This is how you can combat these situations.

Plan for a growth estimate

You must aim to put in all efforts to help your business grow. You cannot say your venture is growing if it is not making enough profits. No matter what the size of your business or how old it is.

Growth is always the biggest concern for any business. Keep inflation in mind to calculate the future growth.

The bottom line

Allow some breathing area for your business to prepare for unexpected expenses. To be able to make bold decisions for your business, focus on having an effective budget system.

[explosivenebula]

hihi! can I request how bakugo, todoroki and midoriya would react if their s/o was killed by a villain? sorry if it's too angsty you can totally ignore this lol! also I love love looovee your blog btw

Of course, omg! I love this idea, and don’t worry, writing angst is one of my strong suits! I didn’t have time for Midoriya, I’m so sorry! I’m working to do one for him very soon though, so don’t worry! Hope you enjoy this post! Thank you for requesting. 

MASTERLIST

‘Killed by a Villain’ Bakugou and Todoroki x reader SCENARIO {GENDER NEUTRAL} {HEAVY ANGST} 

PAIRINGS: Bakugou x reader, Todoroki x reader

WARNINGS: Heavy angst, graphic descriptions of injuries, mentions of blood, death, swearing

NOTE: Each scenario for each character is different and varies in villains and quirks. If you are sensitive to anything listed in the WARNINGS category above, please do not read!

Y/N: your name

If you’d like to request a similar headcanon or something entirely different with the same or different MHA/BNHA characters, feel free do to so! Note: Most of my work will be a gender-neutral reader/perspective unless you specifically request something different. You may also request a headcanon for any size, ethnicity, religion etc of person, everything here is welcome! (As long as it is not offensive, and follows the guidelines.)

🌸Explosive Nebula 爆発性星雲🌸

- 07.02.2021 -

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

It started as any normal day, or, as normal as a day with Bakugou Katsuki could get. Amidst the constant yelling and gruff groaning echoing from his office, the headquarters were bustling and working as usual. Sidekicks of the Ground Zero agency. The only change was the absence of a particularly bubbly voice, and the constant chatter of Sero’s never ending teasing, masked by a heavy, thick nervousness blanketing the five friends. Bakugou, Mina, Kirishima, Kaminari and - to Bakugou’s annoyance - Midoriya. 

The had been a recent fluctuation of villains in the district, and following a series of distressed calls from HPSC representatives, you and Sero were released into the public to take down what could only be described as one of the biggest hero syndicates yet. It was a dangerous job, but everyone had faith in Japan’s heroes. 

But as time ticked by all to agonizingly slowly, Bakugou was beginning to grow impatient. There was a nervousness that hung over everyone, Midoriya’s anxiety causing his hands to shake softly. But the small action went unnoticed, and even if it was seen by one of the five heroes sitting in the conference room, he wouldn’t be blamed. Instead, all pairs of eyes were watching the large monitor that hung on the otherwise blank wall. The channel was flipped to secure, live feed, half of the screen displaying Sero’s bodycam while the other displayed yours, a smaller screen below that showing security cams from the city square you were currently fighting in.

The entire area was covered in debris, smoke, dirt and whatever else had been sent into the air during the ‘fight’. Could they even call it that? It was more like an ambush, a horribly crafted series of events swaying in the side of the villains, a trap to draw you and Sero in. But, you and the niorette were some of the best heroes, so you had managed to sway things to an even level, already having worked together to take down 60% of the villain group. 

The problem was, no one in the conference room wanted to admit that things were going badly. If someone even whispered a word of you potentially failing, Bakugou would explode, shutting the up immediately. But even the ash blonde realized something as he watched the horrific events unfold. There was no chance at failure. You either won, or you died. 

The group watched on through the bodycams, each line spoken and image fed through 

making everyone’s stomach churn.

--------

Sero turned towards you, his voice rushed and hurried as he stumbled his way over the upturned pillars from nearby collapsed buildings. “S-sero?” You’re voice churned out, cracked and dry as you pushed down the struggle to cough up dried blood. 

“Yeah, I’m here. Shit! Hey, hey...” He dropped to his knees, looking up and groaning at the searing pain in his side. he world was spinning around him, every noise and light refracted in his brain pulsating a headache, a new spark of agony. “W-watch it!” 

But it was too late, the falling rod previously stuck in the wall spun and fell from the villains hands, churning it’s way towards your figure and driving t’s way into your already torn and ripped stomach. A gusty scream left your lips, trickling like venom and evaporating in the harshly stinging wind. 

The pole pierced through your body, quickly becoming stained with your own thick, crimson red blood. The metallic smell soon filled the air, mixed with the burning of the villains bodies, the earthq2uake that had rippled through from the leader’s quirk not only causing havoc on the mission, but inevitably sliding his comrades bodies into the thick line of flames. 

“No!” Sero cried, tears running from his swollen and red eyes as h pushed his body to move, move as fast as he could to crawl towards you. “No no no...” He watched as you shuddered, the numbness in your body just enough to make the slowly slipped consciousness seem almost blissful. “Y/N! Wake the fuck up...come on!”

You shook, tears spilling down your dust coated cheeks. “S-sero please.” He shook his head, bottom limp fluttering with each whimper. “Please what? y/n?” You mumbled, fumbling with your utility belt, and pulling out a cracked phone, that had, somehow, survived. “Bakugou...please.”

He understood almost immediately, opening your phone and scrolling through your contacts to find your fiancé’s number. With shaky and hesitant fingers he pressed on the contact, his ears filled with the ringtone of your phone. 

--------

His phone vibrated in his pocket, causing everyone to jump, their faces soaked with tears. They could hear the talking, but majority of it had been intercepted, and the cameras were covered in dirt. No one in the conference 

Bakugou was quick to pull it out, nearly doubling over in a new set of sobs when he saw your name. He had never answered a call sooner, switching it to speaker and placing it on the table. Mina and Kirishima held each other close, listening on while Kaminari and Midoriya crossed their arms, their lips pressed tightly into a thin line. 

“Sweetheart?” He could hear the content sigh from the other side of the line, telling him you had wanted nothing more than to hear his voice. “Katsuki...oh my god.” He sobbed, immediately noticing the way your throat gargled. He tried not to think about it, but he new blood was quickly pooling in your throat. 

“Baby, listen to me, you need to stay awake, alright? The medics are almost there, please...” You interrupted him, your voice beginning to shake. “I love you, katsuki. T-ake care of everyo-ne for me, a-alright?”

“No, don’t say that, not now, not ever. Baby please. Princess, I love you so much. Please, I’m begging you.” Midoriya closed his eyes, taking a shaky and heavy hearted breath. He knew it was hopeless, the cams had cracked to life, and things looked worse than they sounded. He couldn't bear his childhood friend’s begging, but he wouldn’t stop him. How could he?

“You know that damn fucking ring on your finger, right? That’s my promise, my damn promise to marry you. I’ll stay with you for the rest of my fucking life, we’ll have a family, get a pet. Anything you want, anything...please.” 

“I k-know, I’m sorry.” You began to speak one more time, your voice pleading, asking him to stop trying to save you, and accept what you were saying. “Katsuki? You’ll become t-the number...one hero, I know you will...I love you, so mu-”

the phone slipped from his scorched hands as the line went deadly silent. The call was still active, he could still make out the blurred picture of your grinning face on the screen through eyes blanketed in tears. And yet, not a singe word crackled through, no heartbeat was heard, and no shaky breaths that assured him you were still alive. “FUCK! Fuck...I’ll kill them....I’ll fucking kill them!”

A piercing scream left his throat, blocking out his senses and causing his knees to buckle beneath him. Had you really just died? He couldn’t do anything, even if he wanted to. No matter how hard he tried, his body was shaking too much to move. He felt his chest tighten. He couldn't breath. He couldn’t think. His mind was filled with plaguing thoughts as he begun to grip his hair. They’re still alive, they’re still alive, they’re still-

Midoriya tackled him in a tight hug, burying his head into the blonde’s chest to cover his own sobs. Kirishima moved to place a hand on his shoulder, trying in a desperate attempt to drag Kaminari and Mina’s attention away from the horrible scene displayed on the screen. 

But no matter his efforts, they couldn't bring themselves to drag their eyes away, watching as your lifeless body was pulled away and hugged close by a distraught Sero, the male only focused on whispering one thing into your hair as he heard the screams of your mortified boyfriend pull through the phone. 

“I’m sorry Bakugou, I’m so sorry. I tried to protect them, I promise I did. I’m sorry, please, please forgive me. Oh god, y/n, why? I’m sorry, please...I’m sorry.”

TODOROKI SHOTO

How could he let tis happen? He was supposed to protect you, be there for you, let you depend on him. You relied on him to protect you, to be there for you whenever and wherever you needed him. So then why had he not been there, not been there when you needed him the most?

He watched you leave the house that morning, bag in hand and coat thrown lazily across your shoulders as you slipped on winter boots. He watched you pull and umbrella from the stand, and flash him a soft smile before explaining you were leaving to get lunch with Ochaco, and discuss arrangements for her hero agency. You weren’t a pro hero, but your technical skills had landed you in an extremely high paying spot in Midoriya’s agency, studying previous battles and relaying any live information to him and his sidekicks during missions. 

Being the s/o of Todoroki meant he was often cautious about taking you anywhere with him. He had made himself a target through simply being a strong recognised hero, so he often spent time making sure you knew exactly what to do in an emergency. He was confident you had the knowledge to escape any situation, and he hadn’t passed up the chance to teach you a few basic, yet powerful, self defense moves.  

He regretted is decision to let you go so easily this morning. It hadn’t struck him anything would happen, he was so calm about it. All he had done was whisper a soft “Be safe, I love you”, and kiss your forehead before letting you go. 

But now, as he frantically tried to call your phone for the third time to no avail, he realised how much of a stupid decision it was. He should have come with you, like he always did. You convinced him last night to let you go alone, that he needed to stop worrying s much, He had agreed, way to easily. He realised Ururaka was with you, but he knew her priorities wouldn’t e to protect you from the villain that had jut began attacking the area you were stuck in now. Other heroes were still on their way, it was just her and a few weaker patrol heroes keeping things stable before other heroes could get there. Todoroki was one that had been called, but he had left minutes ago. All he could think about was saving you. 

He was so close, fingertips away from the road that your location had last been updated to. He made sure you carried one everywhere, you had to anyway considering the place in which you worked. You were a walking target for many reasons, and he had let you slip from his fingers so easily. 

He heaved to catch his breath as he finally managed to make it, his view clouded by the flames raging and plaguing the pavements. The street was lit up with screams and bodies, all seemed fresh by only a few minutes. He knew there were 9 casualties, but none of them had been identified. He could only pray you were safe. 

Ururaka was a mere few blocks down, her hero costume semi-torn, and scratches lacing her arms. Anyone else would assume she was on deaths door. But the half and half male knew she was holding up, she had more than enough stamina for him to take a few moments to look for you, a few moments o assure himself you were alive. 

Todoroki swallowed harshly, feeling the saliva run dry. Hs first motions pushed him towards the burning café, pushing aside wooden platforms. If you were anywhere, would be here. He had drilled into you to stay exactly where you were if anything happened, unless you needed to run. From the looks of it, it was still a decent place to bunker down. Hopefully, it was a good sign. 

“Y/N?” Despite only being in the building for a few moments, he could already feel the smoke seeping in through his mouth and burning at his lungs. He felt hi movements grow sluggish. There was something different about this smoke, not just it’s toxic properties, but something that seemed to drain his energy by the second. Was this the villains quirk? He didn’t know, he didn’t care. He wanted only you.

And it wasn’t until he heard a quiet and broken “Shoto” that he begun to grow, putting every ounce of power he had into his body to surge forward behind the café counter in search of the source of the noise. He could recognize that voice anywhere, he knew it was you. And when he turned the corner, a pang of relief brushed through him. You were alive. But that was quickly replaced with the stinging fact he thought of as he rushed forward, dropping by your side and watching as blood poured from a life threatening wound on your chest. You didn’t have long left. 

“Baby! Hey, darling, I’m right here...I’m right here for you. Shh, I know, I’m here.” You let out a gentle whimper, your eyes fluttering as you felt consciousness begin to slip. How could everything turn on it’s heels so quickly. Why? Why had this happened to you? You didn’t deserve this, you loved Shoto too much, You needed him, why did you feel this way?

“I-it hu-rts” Tears ran down your boyfriends face, not shying away from the flames licking at his back. He held you all the closer, refusing to let go. It was obvious you didn’t have long, all he could do was hope help arrived soon. They should be here any moment, you just had to stay alive a little longer. 

“I know I know, come on, god...baby, please, keep your eyes open.” He begged, pleading with you. His hands hopelessly found yours and intertwined his fingers, kissing your temple gently as you lay against his chest, eyes fluttering. 

“Shoto...I can’t...I love you.” He growled, finding himself sparking with anger. Who had done this to you? How had he let this happen, he would kill anyone who got in his way. Bakugou and Kirishima were seconds away, they would take down the villain, help Ururaka. But he knew the medics would be late. They were always delayed, probably caught up with the casualties thrown in plain sight. They wouldn’t find you, and he wasn’t about to leave to find help. 

“No, don’t you say that, love. I love you so much, so so much. Stay awake...” He furrowed his brows, letting his head fall back. “Remember how I said one day we would get married? Well we will, I’ll do it tomorrow. I’ll get you the prettiest ring, and we’ll have the most beautiful wedding. I’ll get you whatever you want just stay awake. Please, don’t leave me. Okay?”

He waited a few moments. Silence. He waited a little longer, hoping you were just finding the right words to say, as you usually did. Silence. He was only met with silence. “Baby?” 

He shrugged softly, dropping your arm from around his neck and moving where he could see your face. Your eyes were closed, but your mouth was open. Shockwaves sent themselves sprawling through his body as he widened his eyes, moving to check your breathing. Nothing. 

That was it, you were gone. 

“No, no no no. Baby? Baby? Please don’t do this to me, please don’t do this.” He let out a loud sob, words not being able to form themselves on his burnt tongue. The broken male held you closer than ever, wrapping his arms protectively around your lifeless body and burying his ace in your hair, inhaling you’re beautiful scent. 

He refused to believe that you were gone, refused to let go. Why? Why had this happened to him of all people? He was so good to you, to everyone. He did everything he could. Was he no a good hero? Was he a horrible boyfriend? He raised his head to the ceiling, tears coating his face. He sat in silence, earing the nearby sirens of ambulances and the harsh, broken voices of Bakugou and Kirishima consoling a seriously injured Ururaka. 

It wasn’t long before the building doors were pushed open and and another female walked through, your broken boyfriend identifying the figure as Jirou. The second she saw him curled in the corner she froze, eyeing the situation in front of her and bringing a hand to cover her mouth, tears threatening to sprawl from her eyes. 

Todoroki stared at her, holding you all the more closer as he shook his head frantically, watching a horrified and scarily silent Bakugou walk up behind her, his eyes casting themselves down to the floor to avoid seeing his broken face. Shoto shook, words finally leaving his cracked lips. 

“Please don’t...please don’t take them from me. Please....no....”

If you’d like to request a similar headcanon or something entirely different with the same or different MHA/BNHA characters, feel free do to so! Note: Most of my work will be a gender-neutral reader/perspective unless you specifically request something different. You may also request a headcanon for any size, ethnicity, religion etc of person, everything here is welcome! (As long as it is not offensive, and follows the guidelines.)

🌸Explosive Nebula 爆発性星雲🌸

Posted 07.02.2021

Written and Published by: explosivenebula

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 10

I’m sorry its taken me so long to update. I haven't had much time to write lately due to....well, life. But here we are and its long, so hopefully that makes up for the length. 

Side note- the Norwegian used is from Google translate so....

Warnings: swearing, mild sexual content, Lothbrok family dynamics (yes, its a warning), threats of violence

Words: 15,700 (yep, my longest chapter yet. I packed ALOT into this beast)

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius @evelynshelby @pomegranates-and-blood @heavenly1927 @zuxiezendler @punkrocknpearls @love-all-things-writing @southernbe @ecarroll1978 @breezykpop @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie​

Series Masterlist

"Where are we going? I thought we were going to your flat?" 

 Gyda slyly smiled at Kari, sitting in the passenger seat of her bright yellow Porsche. "Change of plans."

 Kari stared at her friend. "I'm scared to ask."

 "Torvi asked for female reinforcement. So, we are going to keep her company."

 "Ok…. But where is that?" 

 "At the brothers' house." The blonde answered nonchalantly as she made a quick right-hand turn. "It's tradition. Kind of a last family summer party before it's too cold to swim anymore. They have a pool in their backyard."

 Kari felt her stomach drop. Ivar had told her he lived with his three other brothers. Gyda had her own flat while Bjorn and Torvi owned a house nearby. Whenever she tried to ask Ivar about his home, he would shrug off the question or ignore it completely. Eventually she just stopped asking. Curiosity certainly reared its head when she wondered what his home was like. For how much money meant nothing to him, she guessed it was massive and expensive. Maybe he knew she would not fit in and that was why he never brought her? Even through his speeches of wanting her to be his girlfriend, he knew she would not fit into his lifestyle. Why else would he keep her away? It was a valid truth that she had come to terms with. Even if she found herself secretly desperate to ease into his life, she never would. 

 "Of course, they do…." Kari rolled her eyes at the notion that obviously, there was a pool in their backyard. It fit the stereotype in her mind. Then she thought about what Gyda just said. "Wait. Do you have a swimsuit with you?"

 Gyda raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at her while keeping her eyes on the road. "Don't worry, I've got you covered. Torvi brought an extra of hers for you."

 "You had this planned, didn't you? We never were going to your flat, were we?"

 "I don't kiss and tell."

 "Yes, you do. There was that guy you hooked up with two weeks ago that kept sending you dick pics after."

 "That guy was way too proud of his dick. I mean it wasn't even that big."

 "I don't want to hear this again." Kari groaned, tugging on her diamond earring. She enjoyed Gyda but she had learned far more about the woman's sex life than she had any desire to know. 

 "Okay, fine. And yes, Torvi and I planned this. Ivar doesn't know you're coming."

 "Why?"

 Gyda smirked. "Because he's been so secretive and only Hvitserk has seen you two together. Besides, the rest of the brothers want to meet you. We may be at each other's throats most of the time but we do care for one another."

 The brunette let her friend's words sink in. Hvitserk had mentioned the others wanting to meet her, but she had not fully believed it. Sure, she wanted to meet them and was curious after hearing Ivar talk about them, but why would they be interested in her? She glanced down at her clothes, the capri leggings and tank top that were practically a signature look for her. For once, she wished she dressed nicer regularly. "I wish you had said something before."

 "You wouldn't have come then. You'd have created some excuse why you couldn't come." Gyda pointed out the obviously painful truth without remorse. 

 Kari slouched in the passenger seat, butterflies doing somersaults in her belly. Slowly, she pulled her ponytail down, letting her hair hang loose past her shoulders, running her hand through it absent-mindedly in hopes it looked decent. 

 At a red light, Gyda looked over at her with a bright smile. "It'll be fun." 

 "I don't know…. isn’t it supposed to be just family?"

 "Ubbe sometimes brings his girlfriend but yeah, it's usually just family."

 There was another long silence before Kari spoke again, unable to fully conceal her nerves. "You should drop me off and just go. I don't want to intrude."

 "You're not. I'm bringing you because there is always way too much testosterone." Gyda groaned, then reached over and swatted Kari's leg. "What are you so worried about?"

 "What if they don't like me?" She whispered. The weight of her confession hung over her like a dark cloud. 

 "What?"

 She kept her gaze out the window. "The…. the others. What if they don't like me?"

 Gyda laughed. "Kari, don't worry. They will love you. I promise. And if they say anything fucking stupid, I'll slap them or Ivar will stab them. See? Simple."

 A smile grew on Kari's face. "That shouldn't make me feel better…. but for some reason it does." Maybe she had already spent too much time with various Lothbroks if the idea of people resorting to violence made her feel better. 

 "You aren't alone, if anything we'll steal Torvi and Asa away and have a girls' party."

 "Asa? That's her daughter, right?"

 "Right, and Hali is her son. I swear that boy is going to be a miniature version of Bjorn."

 "I've never been around kids much." 

 Gyda chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. "They are great, Asa is a sweetie who prefers to cuddle in someone's lap. It's Hali who is a bit wild but all his uncles love to play with him. He'll probably be swimming in the pool the whole time anyway."

 Still staring out the window, Kari thought about everything Gyda had said. Of course, she was still nervous about just showing up to a family event unannounced, even if she was sort of being kidnapped by Gyda. Some of her nerves faded away with the knowledge that Gyda and Torvi both wanted her there. She really would not be alone. She had friends. She had people that wanted to spend time with her. Hopefully Ivar would be pleased to see her. His potential reaction was the only real wrinkle in her fluctuating confidence. 

 "Okay. I can do this." She said aloud, wondering if she was trying to fully convince herself. 

 "Good, cause we're almost there."

 Kari stared out the window as they approached a gated community. Gyda showed her ID to a guard who chatted with her like they were old friends. As the yellow Porsche drove by the houses in the community, Kari just stared in awe. She had seen houses, mansions was a better term, like these before but it always amazed her that people lived in them. What did they do with all that space? All of the homes were set back from the road so Kari only caught glimpses of them but it was enough to remind her how out of her element she was. 

 Finally, they pulled up a long driveway to a massive two-story house. It was white with an insane number of windows, and a huge garage attached on the left side. On the right side looked like an expansive addition that made Kari wonder why they needed more space. The roof was made of some slate gray tiles, with a balcony above the front door and ivy draping elegantly over the corners. There were various sized potted plants and shrubbery around the front of the house and leading down the sides. Several European beech trees were strategically placed in the front yard to block most of the view from the road in an attempt at privacy. Whoever the grounds keeper was, for surely they had one, needed a raise. 

 Kari could only gape for a long moment, unable to move as she took in the immaculate, beautiful house. To think this was where Ivar lived and he always came over to her tiny townhouse. It was a struggle to tamper down the post embarrassment. 

 Gyda started talking as she parked in front of the house. The only other vehicle in sight was a silver four-door Audi, that Kari recognized as Torvi's. "Aslaug chose the house for them. When she isn't traveling for work or staying at their family home in Norway, this is where she stays. So, she insisted on this place. Something about the natural sunlight and old aesthetic blending with the new vibe. Or some other shit. I can't remember."

 "Huh." Kari said as she followed the blonde out of the car. She noticed there was no mention of the father, Ragnar, and wondered where he stayed but knew it was none of her business so she kept her question to herself. Maybe Ivar would explain it to her. 

 Gyda opened the solid, wood front door, waltzing in like she had done this a million times. Kari took two steps in and froze. The vaulted ceiling in the foyer was enough to stare at but it was the large chandelier that caused her to stare. The way it caught the afternoon light through the many windows and gently cast it about was truly gorgeous. This view was worth owning the house for itself, in her opinion. 

 A tugging on her arm made Kari squeak as she found herself suddenly being dragged along like a ragdoll. 

 "You can stare later, Torvi is waiting for us." Gyda stated, a large purse over her shoulder and her heeled boots clicking on the shiny, wood floor with each step. 

 Kari caught glimpses of other rooms as they passed down the long, straight hallway. A living room with a TV that took up most of the wall it was on. A kitchen that would make any celebrity chef drool. Pictures and awards displayed along the walls in the hallway that were obviously put up by their mother.  

 The two finally stepped out into a room with glass walls, where the pool and expansive backyard lay before them. Most likely what used to be a porch before being enclosed. Still being pulled along, Kari followed Gyda through a side door onto the stamped concrete that surrounded the pool and lounge area. A pool in a rectangle shape dominated the area, a diving board on the far end. A quick glance around showed a jacuzzi on the other side, closer to the house, the water bubbling like a cauldron. There was a large grill, several short tables and lounge chairs spread over the stamped concrete. At the far end was an adult size statue of the Buddha with two flowering pots on either side of him and some kind of cheap, plastic crown on his head. 

 The backyard was several acres wide and at least that many in length. Trees and large shrubs blocked the views of the neighbor's properties and made the place feel almost like a hidden oasis. Further down in a corner was a lovely gazebo with a cobbled stone path leading to it and gardens decorating the way. 

 "Gyda! What took you so long?!" A distinctly male voice called out. 

 "I had to pick up a package." She called back, pulling Kari into full view of the others. 

 The brunette gave a small, self-conscious smile at the many pairs of eyes that she could feel land on her. Before she could really get a good look at who was around, a shout of her name startled her. 

 "Kari!" Hvitserk jumped up from his lounge chair, wearing only dark green swim trunks, and walked over to her with a beaming smile. 

 "Hey…. OH!" She started to greet him only to be swallowed into a hug and spun in a circle. Unable to deny him, she hugged him back and laughed. It was funny since last time she saw him, he was in business attire, coming to check on her per Ivar's instructions. Now she could not help but notice his toned body. His form reminded her more of a runner, while she was used to seeing Ivar's muscular torso. A couple tattoos on Hvitserk caught her eye and she wondered if all the brothers had them. 

 When he finally set her back on her feet, he kept his hands on her shoulders, green eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. "I didn't know you were coming here."

 "Yeah, I didn't know either until Gyda told me on the way."

 He chuckled, glancing over her head to his half-sister. "Yeah, not surprising."

 "Uh huh. Watch yourself, boy. I could still beat your ass if I wanted too." Gyda quipped. 

 "Maybe fifteen years ago. You don't have a chance now."

 "Keep telling yourself that, Hvitty." She teased, then yelled at Torvi. "You got it?"

 As soon as Kari was released by Hvitserk, she could sense a pair of sharp, blue eyes boring into her. Skin prickling under the sensation, she hesitantly looked up and immediately met Ivar's intense gaze right away, as if subconsciously her mind already knew where he was without having to search for him. 

 Reclined back on a cushioned, lounge beach chair, he wore loose black sweatpants, instead of swim trunks, under his leg braces, but without a shirt. His tattoos were a stark contrast on his skin and shamelessly on full display. Her fingers twitched with the urge to trace them again. It was his penetrating gaze though, the lack of emotion on his handsome face, that made her wonder if being here was a bad idea. 

 Before she could make a run for it, Gyda grabbed her arm as if sensing her desire to flee. "C'mon, let's get changed."

 With one last glance at Ivar, she followed behind Gyda and Torvi, who had joined them, back into the massive house. They headed to the kitchen and Gyda pointed out a bathroom across the way. 

 Placing the beach bag on the kitchen counter, Torvi dug in it for a moment before murmuring a quiet "here it is" and handed Kari something. "Here. I bought this forever ago but never wore it. Bjorn said he didn't like the colors."

 Kari took it, guessing it was the promised swimsuit, and peeked down at the two pieces of clothing in her hands. "Um…. where’s the rest of it?"

 Laughing, Gyda rolled her eyes. "Get in there and change or I'll do it for you."

 With a concerned look between the swimsuit in her hands and the two blondes staring at her expectantly, Kari finally conceded defeat and stepped into the bathroom. It was only a half bath, with a toilet and sink, but it was still roomy and felt fancy somehow. The mirror above the sink was large and there was a small, pretty flowering plant on the counter that upon inspection, turned out to be real. 

 Quickly, she changed out of her leggings and tank top and into the swimsuit, figuring it was best that way, like ripping off a band-aid. Plus, if she stopped moving, her nerves would get the better of her and she would somehow find a way to sneak home. Even if she had to crawl through a window. A smile grew on her face remembering Hvitserk's enthusiasm to see her. That had honestly surprised her but she found she did not mind. Hvitserk seemed like a good guy and the little bit of time they had spent together, she felt comfortable with him. He was funny and caring. 

 Then Ivar's blank face came to mind and all of her excitement slipped away like water down a drain. There had been no acknowledgement, not even the hint of a smile, only a hard stare that made her anxious and self-conscious.  

 Taking a deep breath, she tried to remind herself what Gyda said. At least the two Lothbrok women wanted her here, and apparently Hvitserk was happy to see her. That was what she needed to focus on and not Ivar's reaction.

 Once done changing, she finally took stock of what Torvi had leant her and gasped.  

 "Oh no. No, no, no. Hell no."

 She stared down at the wide-band bikini. The top and bottom both had alternating white and light pink stripes, strangely reminding her of cotton candy. The design was certainly something she would never pick out for herself but she did not hate it. The real problem was the way half her ass cheeks hung out of the bottoms and more of her breasts saw the light of day than they ever had before. Never had she been so exposed. Even swimsuits she bought in the past were never this revealing. Her gaze immediately zeroed in on her fuller hips and thighs, fully exposed. Faint whispers that sounded like her mother's taunts echoed in the recesses of her mind as she stared at herself. There was no way she could go out in this. She would rather wear her leggings and tank top than have anyone see her wearing this. They would all laugh at her. 

 "Kari? You done yet?" Torvi called through the door. 

 "I'm…. I’m not coming out in this!" 

 "Let us see it first!" Gyda shot back. 

 "But…." Kari tried once again, unsuccessfully, to tuck her breasts into the bikini top. "It's padded!" 

 "Open this door, Kari." Gyda demanded, suddenly sounding closer. 

 She took one more look at herself, feeling the embarrassed tears welling in her eyes. With a deep breath, knowing she could not escape Gyda just yet, she opened the door. Immediately her blue-green eyes scanned to make sure it was only Gyda and Torvi in the kitchen before she further opened the door so they could see. 

 "Shit, Kari, you look great." Gyda said after giving a wolf whistle. 

 "Half of my butt is hanging out and most of my boobs. I can't wear this out there." She said, almost panicking now. 

 "No, they aren't, you're overexaggerating."

 "Kari," Torvi said kindly, drawing the brunette's frenzied attention, "you're more curvy than I am and let's be honest, your ass and tits are bigger than mine. I'd kill to have a body like yours. You look beautiful. But if you're uncomfortable, I think I have a cover you can wear over it."

 "Please." She replied softly, hating how she sounded like a fearful child.  

 Torvi smiled at her. "I'll be right back."

 Swiftly, Kari stepped back into the bathroom before Gyda could say anything. Her nerves felt alight and not in a good way. Grabbing her phone, she scrolled through her Pinterest, anything to distract herself from this nightmare. If it was just Gyda and Torvi seeing her in this, she might have been uncomfortable but she could tolerate it. Even with Ivar she might have shied away some but he always made her feel so desirable that she doubted her nerves would have lasted long. It was the thought of prancing around in this in front of the other brothers, men she had never met, that made her stomach twist into knots and her breathing quicken painfully. 

 Finally, a gentle knock on the door and a quiet, "It's me," had Kari open it to take the cover from Torvi. It was a solid white oversized V-neck cover with a simple pattern around the neckline. Without wasting a moment, she slipped it on over the bikini, immediately feeling better. The hem of the cover touched the tops of her thighs, higher than she would have liked, but it was better than before. 

 She looked up, running her hands over the cover. "Thank you." 

 Torvi smiled softly with understanding. "I understand. I don't wear swimsuits that show my stomach anymore. Stretch marks." She shrugged casually, moving back to slip onto an island stool. 

 Kari trailed behind her with her bundle of clothes and purse. Without a word, Gyda slipped into the bathroom to change, leaving the other two waiting for her. It was now that Kari really took note of Torvi's swimsuit; it was a classy black and white one piece with thin crisscross straps across the back. The blonde could easily wear a bikini and look amazing in it, but it made Kari feel marginally better that she was not the only one self-conscious about her body. Perhaps that was why Torvi shared about her stretch marks?

 "Is it…." Kari started then stopped, leaning against the black marble countertop. Surveying the grand kitchen for a second, hoping to gather her thoughts, she took a deep breath before continuing. "Is it okay that I'm here? Gyda said this is a family event and I don't want to intrude."

 Torvi turned to face her fully, green eyes gazing at her before she shrugged again. "Normally we try to keep it just family, Ubbe sometimes brings Margrethe, but I doubt anyone will be upset you're here. Honestly, the brothers keep asking about you, so now maybe they will finally shut up and stop teasing Ivar."

 Kari fiddled with the hem of the swimsuit cover. "He didn't seem happy to see me."

 "Ivar?" At Kari's nod, Torvi snorted. "I don't think it's you he's upset with. He's a very private person, as I'm sure you know. If I took a guess, I'd say he was keeping you hidden."

 "But why?"

 "Look, I've known the Lothbroks for about ten years and during that time, I've seen Ivar go through some ups and downs…. well, as much as he lets anyone see. I mostly heard it from Bjorn. Point is, he's allowing you into his inner circle. Hell, you're probably at the center of his inner circle. I saw how he acted with you at the yoga studio. You mean something to him. It's no secret he wants you to be his girlfriend. Maybe he is worried that you'll meet his family and decide we're too much or that you find one of his brothers more attractive or easier to deal with? He pretends to be super confident but it wouldn't be the first time that a woman chose one of the others over him."

 Every time Kari heard that, her heart broke once again for Ivar. How many times had he been overlooked because of his legs? Or his harsh demeanor? Something that she was beginning to realize was just to protect himself, to keep others at arm's length. It made her want to hug him and never let him go, to remind him he was more than just his disability. That he was worth being cared about by more than just family. 

 Kari must have been lost in her thoughts for longer than she realized. Suddenly she was drawn out of her inner musings by Gyda coming out of the bathroom, having changed into a plant print cutout tankini. Of course, looking like she just stepped out of a magazine cover. There had to be something in the Lothbrok blood for everyone to be this damn attractive. 

 "Are we ready?" She asked, her large bag in hand, presumably with her clothes in it. "Kari, you can put your stuff in here for now."

 Torvi touched Kari's shoulder. "Don't worry. If anything, you are here to keep me and Gyda company, okay?"

 Kari smiled, finding herself reassured and grateful for the two women. "Thanks." She slipped her clothes and shoes into Gyda's bottomless bag. They stashed their bags in the glass room and then headed back out into the backyard. 

 Soon as they stepped out, a little girl came running over. Torvi swept her up into her arms gracefully. She turned to Kari with the little blonde girl on her hip. "This is Asa. How old are you, Asa?"

 The little girl stared at her mom before shyly tucking her face into the crook of Torvi's neck, while her blue eyes stayed on Kari. After a moment, she held up two fingers. 

 "You're two?" Kari asked. When the little girl shyly nodded, Kari's smile widened. "I wish I was that old. It's nice to meet you, Asa. I'm Kari."

 Torvi pressed a quick kiss to the top of her daughter's head. "Did daddy let you play in the pool yet?"

 Asa shook her head. 

 "Alright, let's go kick his butt. He did promise, didn't he?"

 That made the little girl giggle and Kari could feel her heart melting slightly. She was just too cute and most likely spoiled by all her uncles. Even her swimsuit was a purple halter top and green bottom with a little skirt that was very The Little Mermaid-esque.  

 A happy scream followed by a splash drew Kari's gaze to the pool. A young boy resurfaced laughing loudly. Bjorn, she recognized, was in the pool also, but turned to look up at Torvi as she approached with Asa on her hip. 

 "Let's go sit down." Gyda slipped her arm through Kari's and pulled her along to where there was a grouping of lounge chairs. Ivar, Hvitserk and a curly-haired blond reclined with beers in hand. 

 Kari could feel Ivar's gaze tracing over her form as she approached, like fingers trailing over her skin leaving a fire in its wake. She sneaked a peek at him, only to find his ardent gaze on her. She blushed and kept her eyes downward. At least he did not look impassive anymore, but she still felt hesitant. 

 "Hey boys. What are we drinking this time?" Gyda questioned. 

 Hvitserk turned the beer bottle to show the label. 

 "Ew. I don't why you drink that shit. I'm going to get some wine. Kari, you want some?"

 "Ah, sure." She murmured.

 "Good. You boys be nice to my friend, especially you Ivar." With that Gyda walked back towards the house but not before giving Kari a subtle wink.

 "Take a seat, Kari." Hvitserk gestured to an open chair next to him. 

 For a split second she considered slinking into the seat, anything for the attention to be taken off her, but realized that was not what she actually wanted. It had been two days since she had seen Ivar and the last time they hung out, it was when he returned from his trip to Italy. He had picked her up the next day to take her out to eat but he ended up spending the majority of the time on his phone, yelling into it in a foreign language and seeming on the verge of throwing his phone or punching a wall. She ended up ordering take-out for them that they ate at her townhouse but he was too wired to really relax and left soon after. The next two days he had been busy with work so they could only text. The one time they managed to Face-Time, she could not help but notice his bruised knuckles and when she asked him about them, he said he did some boxing to release stress. 

 With butterflies doing somersaults in her belly, she took a step closer to stand near Ivar's lounge chair. Tugging on the hem of her cover as she quietly spoke. "Hey, Ivar. Can I sit with you?"

 "Oh, you're acknowledging me now?" He snapped, never removing his severe blue eyes off of her.  

 She blinked owlishly, surprised by his sharp tone. Her stomach dropped to her feet and she could feel an embarrassed flush rising on her cheeks. "Yeah, I'm sorry." She whispered, dropping her chin, unable to meet his eyes anymore. This was all a mistake, she knew it. This only sealed her poor decision. 

 Shifting to look back at the house, she wondered if she should find Gyda and beg to drive her back home, or if she should find the closest bus stop. Before she could take a step away, a calloused hand snatched hers in a firm grip. Startled, she looked down to see Ivar holding her hand. Her eyes jumped up to stare at him in shock, confused by his conflicting actions. In those vivid, expressive eyes she could easily read the regret in them. Without her conscious decision, her heart softened. 

 "Sit." He said quietly, what most likely meant to come out commanding but sounded more as a plea. She nodded and allowed him to guide her onto the wide lounge chair next to him. 

 A furious blush warmed her cheeks when Ivar wrapped an arm around her waist, tucking her into his side and pressing a quick kiss to her temple. What she assumed was his nonverbal apology. 

 "Hey, this is Sigurd." Hvitserk said, gesturing to the unknown blond sitting with them. "I don't think you've met him yet. Ubbe had to take a call, so you'll meet him later."

 "Hi, it's nice to meet you." She said, looking at the other Lothbrok. He had light blond, curly hair in frazzled braids and brown eyes. At first glance she would not have guessed he was one of the brothers, but she figured genetics were always weird. He had a lean body similar to Hvitserk with a tribal tattoo sleeve and a Thor's hammer necklace laying on his bare chest like the other brothers wore.

 He silently raised his beer bottle at her, still stretched out in his chair like a lazy cat in the sun. 

 Thoughtfully she peered up at Ivar, keeping her voice low. "I'm sorry, I didn't know Gyda was bringing me here otherwise I'd have told you. She literally didn't tell me until we were pulling up."

 "It's fine." He murmured evenly, but Kari got the feeling that was not how he truly felt. 

 "Do….do you want me to leave?"

 He sighed, his grip around her tightening for a moment, before he seemed to relax. "No. I'm glad you're here. It won't be boring…." a wolfish grin grew as he slid his hand up her exposed thigh sensually, ".... especially if you take off this cover and let me see what's underneath." 

 "No!" She squeaked, grabbing his roving hand before it could migrate further. 

 He chuckled. "Come on, kitten…. just a peek?"

 "Ivar, no."

 "Why not?"

 "Its…. it’s scandalous."

 Hvitserk raised his hand, a devious smirk on his face. "I want to see."

 She covered her face with her hands, embarrassment flooding her. "Oh gods, this was such a bad idea." Then she had to rapidly grasp Ivar's hand as it slipped under the swimsuit cover to caress her hip and trace her bikini bottom. "Ivar…."

 "Fine." He slipped his hand back out but splayed it over her exposed thigh. "You can show me later."

 Thankfully, Gyda reappeared with a glass of white wine in each hand and another blond male in tow who carried the wine bottle. He had short, cropped hair and a muscular body that spoke of many hours in the gym. Kari wondered if this was the brother that Ivar regularly worked out with. 

 "Why are you sitting with Ivar? I brought you here! I'm even bringing you wine!" Gyda teased, handing a glass to Kari. 

 "You also dragged me here unknowingly. Wine is the least you could do." Kari said without thinking, making the others laugh. 

 "You know damn well you're happy to be here." Gyda winked then took the open lounge chair next to her. "Right, I'm guessing you've been introduced to Sigurd." She flicked a hand in the curly-haired Lothbrok's direction followed by vaguely gesturing to the last unknown brother. "Now this pain in my ass, over here, is Ubbe. Ubbe, this is Kari."

 Sitting between Hvitserk and Gyda, Ubbe rolled his blue eyes but leaned forward to shake Kari's hand. "It's nice to finally meet you."

 "Yeah, likewise."

 Ubbe sat back with an impish glint in his eyes. "So, you're Ivar's girl?"

 "Um…. we’re just..." She started, unsure what to say to his family. 

 Ivar broke in, his single word answer almost coming out in a growl. "Yes."

 She whipped her head to look at him, only for him to stare her down as if waiting to see if she could refute his claim. Logically, she knew she should say something, argue that they were only friends. Yet any rebuttal died on her tongue under his fierce gaze. Instead she chose to sip on her wine generously.  

 "Right." Ubbe finally said, watching the two with an amused look. 

 Sigurd scoffed loudly before taking a swig of his beer. 

 "Something you want to say, Sig?" Ivar turned narrowed eyes at his brother.

 The curly-haired brother smirked, seeming to debate saying anything. Finally, he sat up and his gaze zeroed in on Kari. "How much does he pay you to fuck him?"

 The reaction from those around was instantaneous. Next to her, Ivar tensed, ready to spring up and fight his brother. A sharp reprimand of "Sigurd!" came from both Gyda and Ubbe while Hvitserk pinched the bridge of his nose. 

 Something rose up inside Kari though. She understood enough to know about the animosity between Sigurd and Ivar. His comment felt more like a cruel jab at Ivar than her. She was just the pathway to try and cause torment between the brothers. But if no one else was going to stand up and defend the dark-haired Lothbrok, she would. 

 So instead of taking his words personally, she just smiled sweetly at Sigurd, placing a hand on Ivar's thigh as she responded. "He doesn't. I'm happy to do it for free. Besides, he has something you never will."

 "And what's that?"

 "A cock big enough to pleasure someone….is that why you go through girlfriends so quickly?"

 The rising tension evaporated in a flash. Gyda snorted so hard she almost dropped her wine glass. Hvitserk threw his head back laughing while Ubbe tried to cover his smile with his hand. Kari was sure her eyes were comically wide as what she said without thinking sunk in. Her face flushed and she pressed her face against Ivar's shoulder. Sure, she had meant to defend Ivar but she had not meant to be so crass. The statement seemed to fly out of her mouth before her brain could catch up. 

 Next to her, Ivar laughed as he nuzzled her. She squirmed under his onslaught but also at realizing she just insulted one of Ivar's brothers. Even if it was the one he liked least of all. For a fleeting moment, the idea she had just made herself an enemy crossed her mind. 

 When she sneaked a peek, Sigurd quickly drained the rest of his beer and walked away murmuring something about getting another one. 

 "I think you'll fit in, Kari." Ubbe stated, still trying unsuccessfully to hide his amusement. 

 Kari was unsure of that. She quickly took a large sip of the wine to settle her fraying nerves. What had she been thinking? It hurt to hear Ivar's brother being so blatantly cruel to him and if this was a regular occurrence, no wonder Ivar wanted to spend most of their time at her place. 

 "I didn't realize you liked my cock so much, kattungen." Ivar whispered salaciously into her ear, drawing her back to the present. His tongue flicked her earlobe, making her jolt. "I think I'll have to give you a reward later."

 She shivered at his tone, her core clenching without resistance. It was unfair how just at his husky tone alone, her body betrayed her desire. But they were in public though, in front of his family no less, so she willfully attempted to cool the heat warming her veins. With a smile, she tried to nudge him away from her but he was too strong, only tightening his grip on her and laying a quick kiss to her neck. 

 "I can't believe I said that." She whispered, hoping only he heard her. 

 He smirked, an unmistakable fire in his eyes. "It was sexy as fuck."

 Thankfully, Torvi came over to join the group, a welcome distraction for Kari as she was sure the fire in Ivar's gaze was enough to set her ablaze and further stoke her own heat. 

 Torvi settled into Sigurd's now absent spot. "What did I miss?" 

 "Kari said Ivar's cock is bigger than Sigurd's." Hvitserk stated smugly. 

 Torvi stared at Kari with a tilt of her head and an amused grin. "Really? And how did we get on the subject of dicks already?"

 Some of the group laughed as Kari covered her face once again, mortified that she was the center of attention because of what she thoughtlessly said. She had the sneaking suspicion none of them would ever let her live this down. 

 "Alright, enough. Come on, it's girl time now." Gyda grabbed Kari's hand and dragged her to her feet, much to Ivar's obvious chagrin. She scoffed, meeting her half-brother's gaze. "I'll give her back later."

 The three women wandered over to some open chairs further down from the guys and closer to the Buddha statue. Gyda carried the wine bottle and her glass while Kari carefully held her own glass. Torvi snatched a beer from a nearby cooler as they meandered over. Gyda settled on a single, lounge chair adjacent to a cushioned two-person seat which the other two sat on. 

 "Alright, we have a very serious matter to discuss. Your answer may or may not break our friendship." Gyda started, leaning forward as she pointed a single finger at the brunette. 

 Kari found herself straightening in her seat, hand clutching her wine glass tighter. 

 Eyes intent, Gyda's voice dropped conspiringly. "Who is sexier: Steve Rogers or Bucky Barnes?"

 Shock rendered Kari momentarily speechless. At Gyda's serious tone, she had imagined a topic that would involve confessing a secret, not…. not a movie franchise. "Um…. Bucky." She hesitantly answered. 

 "Yes!!" Gyda shouted, throwing her arms up and almost spilling her wine. "I knew I liked you! Ivar, she is mine now!"

 Kari laughed at her enthusiasm; all concern having vanished instantly. "I take it you like him too?"

 "Hell yeah. I would willingly choke on his cock or he could pound my pussy to pulp and I wouldn't complain either way."

 Torvi shook her head, a hint of a smile tilting the corners of her lips up. "Something's wrong with you."

 "You prefer Steve?" Kari inquired, once she recovered from choking on air at Gyda's blunt statement. Her friend always had a way of surprising her, and giving her second-hand embarrassment.

 Torvi shrugged. "A tall, handsome blond. That's my kind of man."

 Peeking over at Bjorn who was still playing in the pool with both kids, Kari hummed thoughtfully. "Huh. Makes sense."

 "No wonder you are with Ivar if you prefer Bucky Barnes."

 "But we aren't…. together." Kari fixed her eyes on her wine, knowing her answer sounded lame even to her own ears. 

 Gyda patted her leg. "You keep telling yourself that."

 "We're just friends."

 "No, you aren't."

 "Kari, it's fine." Torvi shot Gyda a look. "It's between you two, it's not really our business."

 "She's our friend!" Gyda whined, throwing herself back in her seat dramatically. 

 "And she will let us know if something changes. Including telling us if Ivar does something stupid and we need to kick his ass."

 Kari giggled as Torvi tapped her beer bottle against her wine glass. "I promise. Hvitserk already made me swear too."

 "Good. So is Ivar really that good in bed?" 

 "Gyda!" Kari exclaimed but laughed at how shameless her friend was. 

 Torvi thankfully changed the topic of conversation to Ubbe's birthday coming up next month. Asa wandered over, wrapped in a green and brown towel with long ears sticking out that made her look like baby Yoda. When Sigurd eventually appeared, Hali dragged him to the pool where they jumped in together. Not long after, Hvitserk joined them, doing a cannon-ball with the splash almost hitting the ladies. 

 Kari chatted with Torvi and Gyda for some time, enjoying herself immensely. The topics varied, but she never felt unincluded. More than once, she glanced over, only to find Ivar's gaze already on her. After the third time, he tipped his head to the side and patted the spot next to him. A not-so subtle invitation or demand, depending on how you looked at it. 

 A smile teased her lips and she nodded. She started to rise, with her second glass of wine in hand, when the sound of a loud "shit" from Gyda distracted her. 

 "What is she doing here?" Torvi quietly asked with an undertone of frustration. 

 Curious, Kari followed their gazes towards the door leading into the glassed-in porch. She was met with the sight of two blondes emerging in matching, white swimsuits that barely seemed to cover anything. Both strutted as if they were on a runway, while chatting with one another. 

 "Kari, go sit with Ivar." Gyda encouraged, snatching her hand and leading her back without a moment's hesitation towards where Ivar and Ubbe were still sitting. The wine was left forgotten on the side table. 

 "What's going on?" Kari asked in a hushed tone. 

 "Drama. I can't believe that bitch brought her. What was she thinking?"

 "Gyda?"

 She clicked her tongue but hurriedly whispered back. "That's Ivar's ex."

 Surprise made Kari almost stumble but she managed to catch herself at the last second. Further explanations had to wait because they came upon the brothers at the same time the two blondes did. Soon as Kari was close enough, Ivar held out his hand, a sweet gesture, but she could see the tension and anger in the set of his shoulders and the thin line of his lips. Silently, he guided her to sit between his spread legs, arms banding around her waist and pulling her indecently close. For once though, she did not complain. 

 "Hey, baby." One of the blondes said in a sickly-sweet voice as she pressed a kiss to Ubbe's cheek. "Sorry we're late."

 "It's fine." Ubbe slowly answered as he shifted his gaze to the other blonde. "I didn't know you were bringing someone."

 "This is supposed to be family only." Gyda snapped, having dropped into her seat next to Ivar and Kari. 

 The blonde, who stood next to Ubbe still, narrowed her eyes at Kari. "Then why is she here?" 

 "That's Ivar's girlfriend." Ubbe answered.

 "Uh, hi, I'm Kari." She decided to speak up, hoping introductions would somehow break the rising tension. At her words, Ivar momentarily dropped his head to kiss her shoulder. Unsure if his actions were encouraging or reprimanding, she laid her hands over his, which were still wrapped around her. 

 "Hmmm…. Margrethe." She replied flatly, with a pinched look, as if talking to Kari was beneath her. "I'm Ubbe's fiancé."

 The other blonde smiled pleasantly as she looked Kari in the eye. "I'm Freydis. It's lovely to meet you."

 "Yeah, nice to meet you too." Kari managed to say around the suddenly tightened grip around her waist. She would be a liar if she said she was not intimidated by Freydis. While both women were beautiful, something that seemed required to be in the presence of the Lothbrok family, Freydis was a step beyond that. With her doll-like features, lovely blue eyes and flawless skin, she was gorgeous. Kari could feel all her own insecurities screaming at her in the presence of Ivar's ex. How the youngest Lothbrok went from someone as stunning as Freydis to as girl-next-door as Kari, she had no idea….and it made her uncomfortable. 

 "What the fuck is she doing here?" Ivar demanded, ignoring Freydis' presence completely.  

 Margrethe rolled her eyes as her hand slowly stroked across Ubbe's shoulders. "I get bored and wanted to spend time with my best friend, so fuck off." She turned her head to look at Freydis beside her. "Come on, let's get something to drink." 

 After a quick kiss to Ubbe, the two headed back towards the house but not before Freydis glanced back at Ivar and Kari one last time. 

 Once they were far enough away, Gyda rounded on Ubbe, not even bothering to contain her ire. "Fiancé? Really, Ubbe?" She sneered. 

 "Hell no. I haven't proposed. I damn well don't plan to and she knows it."

 "Why are you still with her? She's a greedy bitch."

 "Gyda, I know you don't like her but she's still my girlfriend."

 "Who the fuck knows why." 

 Ubbe turned his attention to Ivar. "I swear I didn't know she was bringing Freydis. I'd have told her not to come then."

 "As long as she stays the fuck away from me, I don't give a shit." The dark-haired Lothbrok growled at his older brother. 

 The residual tension in the air was painful to abide in. It felt like a caged animal, pacing, waiting, ready for the moment to unleash a terrorizing attack. 

 "Hey, I have a question." Kari blurted out, unable to take the way the tension made her skin feel like it was being sunburned. Once Gyda and Ubbe shifted to watch her, she posed her question. "Ah, well, I've been wondering for a while but why don't you guys have bodyguards or something?"

 Ivar snorted, brushing her hair over her shoulder to press his face into the crook of her neck, making her squirm although he did not relent his position. 

 It was Ubbe that answered with a wide grin. "Eh, we don't need them. We can handle ourselves."

 "But you guys have drivers, isn't the next step to have bodyguards?"

 "You worried for us?" Ivar whispered, nipping at her skin, only to soothe the spot with his tongue. 

 "I'm serious."

 "Let's just say we know how to protect ourselves. Besides, no one is stupid enough to come after us." Ubbe concluded, raising his beer in a mock salute.

 Gyda snickered. "This is why I stay out of the family business."

 "You've no issue spending Father's money though." Ubbe retorted in a jovial way. 

 She shrugged and sent Kari a playful wink. 

 A minute later, Bjorn, Torvi and Asa came over, taking open seats with Asa sitting in Torvi's lap. Even though Kari had met Bjorn before, it still shocked her to see how much larger he was compared to the other brothers, both in size and physique. Now sitting next to Torvi, he appeared larger. With his long, braided ponytail and shaved sides, a short beard and sharp, blue eyes, he seemed quite formidable. Kari wondered briefly if that helped with the family business. 

 "See Kari there, she is the one who teaches yoga." Torvi softly said to Asa. 

 Asa peeked over at Kari, shyly smiling, still wrapped in her towel but with a juice box in hand. 

 "I bet if you ask nicely, she might show you something." Torvi said then looked up at Kari. "Lately she loves watching me do yoga at home. It's cute when she tries to do it with me."

 Bjorn chuckled, slinging an arm over the back of his wife's chair. "And usually falls down onto her face."

 "Hey, she's trying!" Torvi defended, elbowing Bjorn in the side.

 Looking at the little girl across the circle of seats, Kari smiled. "Want me to show you something I've been working on? I'm not very good at it though, so if I fall over, you can laugh at me. I'll be laughing at myself too."

 Asa nodded fervently, eyes wide in anticipation. 

 "What do you say?" Torvi tapped her daughter's nose. 

 Asa looked up at her mom then back to Kari. "Please." Even though it came out sounding more like "peas".

 "Sure. I need to stretch some first." Kari stood up and immediately had to slap Ivar's hand away that prowled down the curve of her ass. She tried to glare at him over her shoulder, only to be met with a mock innocence. Overly aware of the eyes on her, she chose a spot nearby in the plush, green grass, trying to keep her nerves to a minimum. Carefully, she warmed up her muscles, doing a few simple stretches so as not to hurt herself. Honestly, she was nervous since she never did advanced poses in front of others. It was not that she was unable to, for she did them frequently at home on her own time. It just felt like she was vying for attention or trying to show off when she did advanced poses in view of others. Conflicting memories of her grandmother's encouraging voice fought with her mother's reprimand in her mind as she stretched. 

 "What are you going to do?" Gyda called over, returning from retrieving her wine glass and bottle. 

 The question pulled her from her mind's internal war, bringing her back to the present. "Um, it's called the super soldier."

 "Oooo, I like it already."

 Once stretched, Kari stood frozen for a moment realizing she was going to need to take her cover off to do the pose. 

 "Kari, you look sexy as hell, now take the damn cover off." Gyda called out. 

 Kari hesitated, fears and insecurities rising afresh within her. 

 "Do it or Ivar will get his ass up and help you. I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

 "I hate you." She mumbled but gave in. Slowly, she walked back over to the circle of chairs, pulling the white cover off and dropped it on the lounge chair Ivar still sat on. Her eyes briefly flickered up only to meet Ivar's smoldering gaze. Instantly, she could feel herself flush. Hoping no one noticed, she moved back to her grassy spot. A loud wolf-whistle came from the direction of the pool, most likely from Hvitserk but Kari ignored it, knowing if she thought about it too much, she would make a run for it. Mentally preparing herself, she pulled her hair back into a bun on the nape of her neck, then faced the group but kept her gaze downward, too scared to look at them. 

 After taking a deep breath, she bent over to lay her hands flat on the grass without bending her knees. Next, she hooked her right shoulder behind her knee and extended her left arm for balance. She took a long, deep breath before continuing onward. Then she lifted her left foot and grabbed it with her right hand, still tucked behind her right leg. After another deep breath, she pulled her left leg up until her knee was pointed towards the sky. She held it there for three breaths before slowly releasing her leg back down and carefully straightening back up. 

 A small round of applause greeted her when she straightened. 

 "Another!"

 "You go, Kari!"

 "Do another one!"

 Blushing furiously at the cheers, she leaned forward into downward facing dog. Carefully, she slid her hands forward until her elbows touched the grass with her ass still in the air. Taking a deep breath and hoping she did not make a fool of herself, she engaged her core and kicked her legs up so she was doing a handstand but still on her elbows. Once she felt stable, she pressed her legs together and slowly bent her knees until they were almost parallel with her forearms on the ground. Feeling the burn in her core and arms, she hoped she could finish the pose without falling on her face. Next, she lowered her legs, knees apart now and big toes touching until her feet touched the top of her head. She could not help the smile that stretched across her face as she held the pose for a couple seconds, making sure to breathe slow. Scorpion pose was one she was still trying to master on her own, let alone in front of others. If anything, this felt like a victory for her. Methodically she unfurled, bringing her legs up and then back to the ground. 

 When she finally stood up, brushing the grass off her forearms, it was to another round of applause.

 "That was amazing!" Torvi said. 

 "I was thinking sexy as fuck!" Hvitserk exclaimed, a smile on his face from where he now stood, leaning against Ubbe's chair. 

 Self-consciously, Kari tugged on her swimsuit, making sure everything was tucked into place, as much as it could be, before pulling her hair out of the bun. She walked back over to the lounge chair quickly and yanked the cover back over her body. 

 "I'm going to wash my hands." She said without meeting anyone's eyes, skirting around the group and heading towards the glassed-in porch. 

 Laughter erupted behind her as she approached the door but she ignored it as she walked inside. She padded through the porch, stomach twisting in knots, and turned into the kitchen. Her feet stuttered to a halt as she noticed Margrethe and Freydis standing there with bottles of something in hand. For a split second she thought about turning and heading to the bathroom but it was too late as the two blondes noticed her intrusion. 

 "Hi, I just need to wash my hands." Kari explained. After a moment's hesitation, she walked around the opposite side of the massive island from them and towards the kitchen sink.

 "So, you're Ivar's girlfriend?" Margrethe stated with a mocking undertone. "I didn't think someone like you was his…. type."

 "Margrethe…." Freydis chided. 

 "What? Look at her. I mean she's got tits and an ass, and I guess she could be pretty but that's it."

 "I'm sorry." Freydis apologized kindly. After a long, awkward pause where the kitchen was silent besides Kari washing her hands, she asked, "How long have you and Ivar been together?"

 "Um, we aren't…. we’re just friends." Kari found herself admitting, as she finished drying her hands and turned around to see them both staring at her. Though Freydis had a gentle smile on her face, Margrethe looked nothing less than the cat that caught the canary and planned on lording it over everyone. 

 "Oh?" 

 "See. Told you, Dis. He is still single." Margrethe smugly said, flicking her hair over her shoulder. "He's just playing the game."

 "Game?" Kari muttered aloud. 

 Freydis set her glass down and came around the island to stand in front of Kari. Her blue eyes were bright as they met Kari's. "You seem like a nice girl and clearly the others like you too. So, I'll be honest because I don't want you to get caught up in the Lothbrok drama and get hurt. Okay?"

 "Okay."

 "Ivar and I are getting back together. We're just taking a break right now. Truly, I know we are destined for each other and he agrees. We had a bad fight and needed some space but he loves me just as much as I love him. So, I know he will come back to me when he is ready. I'm so sorry to tell you that you're just the rebound girl. I'm sure he likes you but that's as far as it will ever go. Gyda likes to try and mess with the brothers' love lives so I am sorry if she dragged you into this without telling you the whole truth. It's not your fault. I am sure Gyda lied to you and probably Ivar too. But it's good for you to know now. I don't hold it against you if you've have had sex with him but just know your time with him is limited, okay? How long have you two been 'friends'?"

 "We met last month." Kari whispered, dread and despair a writhing mess of snakes churning in her stomach. Air refused to fill her lungs, leaving her struggling for breath. 

 Freydis sighed. "It probably will be soon then. Just take advantage of the things he purchases for you, so when he leaves, you can have something to sell if you're in a pinch. Yeah?"

 "Ah…. sure."

 "Good. You seem like a nice girl. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this."

 "It's…." Kari choked back a sudden sob. "It's alright. Thank you."

 "Of course, we girls need to look out for each other. Is there anything I can do for you?" She inquired, sounding so genuine in her desire to help, her gaze imploring and lips in a faint, comforting smile. 

 "No…. no. I just need to check my phone. Have you seen Gyda's bag?"

 "I think she left it on the porch." Margrethe helpfully added, never having lost the smug grin on her face as she watched Kari with a hawk-like intensity. 

 "Oh, right. Thank you." Kari shifted back and forth on her feet, body primed to run, to flee before anyone could see the tears that welled pathetically in her eyes. 

 Freydis reached out and squeezed her arm, a brief exchange of understanding, then strutted back around to grab her drink and follow Margrethe to the porch and outside. 

 Once alone, Kari pressed a hand over her mouth to try and stifle the sob that lodged itself in her throat. She knew it. Everything Freydis said made sense. 

 Without a second thought, she rushed around the island and onto the porch, quickly locating Gyda's bag. She scooped her purse and clothes out only to hurry back inside. A quick check of the time and she figured she might be able to catch a bus, but in this gated community, there was no way buses came through so she would end up walking somewhere. Feeling the sting of tears in her eyes, she sniffled, trying desperately to hold them back. She looked up the nearest bus stop on her phone, pleased it was only a few blocks away from the gated community. 

 Once positive she knew where she was going, she stared down at her clothes on the counter, wondering if she should change before leaving. It would certainly look odd for her to be walking down the street in the swimsuit cover and sandals in such an upscale neighborhood. Then she thought about any of the Lothbroks finding her trying to leave and pushed the potential oddity of her attire from her mind. It appeared there was a gas station nearby when she found the bus stop, it would be simple to change there quickly. Somehow she could give the swimsuit and cover back to Torvi…. but not today. Right now, she needed to leave. 

 She tried to shove her clothes into her purse, only succeeding by making it look like an over-inflated balloon but it worked. Lastly, she reached to grab her phone off the kitchen counter but froze. Ivar bought it for her. Freydis' words came back to her about taking advantage of the things he bought for her. Bile burned the back of her throat at the idea. She promised herself she would not be one of those girls to him. Slowly, she retracted her hand, forming it into a fist by her side. Ivar could give the phone to Freydis or throw it in the trash for all she cared. Even with the feeling of her heart being ripped in two, she refused to take advantage of him or his money. She was a better person than that. Or so she hoped. 

 Worried someone would come in soon, she tossed her purse over her shoulder and swiftly headed towards the front door. She passed through the hallway she entered in, but the pictures and awards blurred before her eyes as the repressed tears threatened to make an appearance. Hastily, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand but knew it was ultimately futile. 

 "Kari?" 

 Her stride never faltered towards her escape, even after hearing Hvitserk call her name from what sounded like the porch. 

 "Kari? Where are you going?" His voice came from behind her, probably standing at the entrance of the hallway now. 

 "I have to go." Kari said, not bothering to turn around, unsure if he could even hear her. She could barely hear footsteps behind her over the sound of her sniffles and ragged breathing. It did not matter since she was close to her escape, just a couple more moments. Her hand touched the handle, just beginning to pull the door open when Hvitserk's hand appeared in her direct line of vision and slammed it closed. Although the sound was muffled, it echoed in her mind like a gunshot. 

 "What's going on?" Hvitserk stood directly behind her, his hand still firmly planted on the door as if to prevent her from even considering leaving without permission again. 

 "It's nothing." She murmured, staring down at her feet. 

 "I seriously doubt that if you are trying to sneak away while crying…. what happened?"

 "Nothing. I just…. I just want to go home."

 "Okay." He shifted to lean his shoulder against the door, ducking his head to try and catch her eyes. "Does this have to do with the yoga stuff?"

 "No. Just…. please, Hvitserk."

 "You need to tell me something. Look, I'll give you a ride, we can leave right now but you have to tell me what happened."

 She swallowed thickly, still refusing to look at him. It was taking all of her willpower to keep the tears at bay. At any moment she felt the tears would come forth with all the power of a hurricane, reducing her to a sniveling mess on the floor, nursing a broken heart. It was all her fault though. How could she have believed someone like Ivar Lothbrok would actually be interested in her for more than just a one-night stand. She was just a challenge for him, someone to pass the time. Then once she gave in, once they finally had sex, he would walk out of her life and back into Freydis' arms and bed…. where he apparently belonged. 

 "Kari?" Hvitserk softly prompted. 

 "It's…. I just have a better understanding now…. of where I stand…. of my purpose here."

 "Your purpose?"

 She sniffed, wiping her wet eyes once again before the tears fell. "I'm just a rebound girl….and that's alright. I get it. But I just want to go home now." 

 "Fuck. Freydis said that, didn't she?"

 "It doesn't matter. Can you please just take me to the bus stop, I can get home from there." She knew she was begging but she did not care anymore. 

 "Kari, give me that." He grabbed her purse from her and tossed it onto a wooden side table. His hands held hers in a manner that was comforting verse restraining. His thumbs rubbed along the back of her hands as he softly spoke. "Look at me, you know it's not like that."

 "It doesn't matter." She shook her head, even as her hands gripped his tighter, the feeling being the only thing keeping her from falling apart at the front door. "I shouldn't have let Gyda bring me here. I should have made her drop me off."

 "Kari…." He began but was interrupted. 

 "Hvitty?" Ivar's loud voice boomed from the kitchen. "You better not be trying to fuck Kari!"

 Kari flinched at the sound. The facade of strength she fought to maintain evaporated like smoke. The tears she had been trying so desperately to withhold slipped free, rolling down her cheeks like a cleansing rain.  

 "Over here!" Hvitserk called back, releasing her hands but not moving away. 

 Ivar's measured gait could be heard coming down the hallway like the footsteps of doom. 

 "What the fuck is going on? You disappear to find Kari and then…." His voice trailed off as he entered the foyer, piercing gaze zeroing in on her tear-stained face. What sense of jovial teasing transformed into enraged fury. When he spoke next, it came out in an animalistic growl that bespoke impending violence. "Who fucking hurt you?"

 "I'm fine." She mumbled, wrapping her arms around herself. Her chin rested on her chest, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "I just want to go home."

 "Freydis….and I'm betting Margrethe also said something to her." Hvitserk snitched, leaning fully against the door. He watched both Kari and his brother as if ready to intervene at a moment's notice. 

 Ivar snapped, stepping closer. "What did they say?"

 She was unsure who he directed his question to but she still shook her head, refusing to look at either brother. Hearing his wrath, it only made her heart ache more. All of this was a show, it had to be. Why would he truly care? The sound of his heavy gait coming closer brought a fresh wave of silent tears. 

 Moving to her other side, he cupped her cheek. When she resisted looking at him, he shifted his hand to grab the back of her neck, forcing her gaze to meet his. A tempest swirled in his icy blue eyes. "What. Did. They. Say?"

 "Why does it matter?" She questioned, bottom lip trembling as a sob rose from her chest. 

 "Because they hurt you."

 "But I'm no one. I don't matter." She shook her head, pressing a hand over her mouth to contain the cries bound to escape at any moment. "You're just going to get back together with Freydis when you get bored with me."

 His eyes widened as if she had sucker-punched him. His mouth dropped open for a moment before he collected himself, the maelstrom rippling under his skin on the verge of breaking free. "Did they say that?"

 "Freydis said…. she said you two were just taking a break….and I'm the rebound girl."

 "Fuck. Fuck!" Ivar stepped away, running his hands through his loose hair. In an instant, he grabbed the decorative bowl off the entrance table and threw it. The shattering against the wall reverberated in the foyer followed by Ivar's guttural shout. "FUCK!" 

 "Ivar." Hvitserk softly said, warily watching his younger brother. 

 "I'm going to kill her. Fuck! I can't believe she would fucking say that!" Ivar ran his hands through his hair again, looking on the verge of ripping the strands out. The ferocity in his eyes was unmatched as he glanced down the hallway, clearly wanting to go after his ex, then shifted back to Kari, who remained silent and unmoving. "What else did she say?" He barked at her. 

 "You're destined for each other." She confessed after a moment's hesitation. 

 Ivar stormed over to her, devouring the ground beneath his feet as he invaded her space. Standing before her, he cupped her face, eyes imploring her to believe him. "Freydis is a crazy, jealous bitch. She manipulates to get what she wants. Don't believe a word out of her fucking mouth. Fuck! Please, Kari, don't cry. I'm right here, kitten."

 His words seeped into her mind, slipping in through the cracks and delving deep into her soul. His words alone should not have reassured her like they did. Between his pleading eyes and his gentle touch, her few walls surrounding her heart crumbled, unable to fight him. She believed him, even before her mind fully recognized it. 

 She lightly placed her hands on his bare chest, one directly over his heart, feeling the rapid tempo under her fingers. "Promise?" She whispered wetly. "You're not just…. I’m not just a rebound girl?"

 Ivar groaned, pressing his forehead to Kari's. "I swear. I never thought that about you." 

 And she believed him again. The truth falling from his lips resounded in the very core of her being. It made no sense how she knew, but somehow, she did. 

 After a long second, Hvitserk pushed off the door from next to them. "I'm going to head back and keep an eye on them. Kari, if you still want a ride just text me, alright?" 

 "Thank you, Hvitty." She reached out and snagged his hand, giving it a quick squeeze. With a smile, he responded in kind before heading down the hallway towards the backyard. 

 Soon as Hvitserk started walking away, Ivar grabbed her hand and led her in the opposite direction. They hurried through a short hallway to arrive at a closed door. Impatiently, Ivar thrust the door open and pulled her into a room, slamming the door shut behind them. She had a brief moment to scan the new room and notice the two walls with floor to ceiling bookshelves packed full and the couple couches near a large window. 

 Before she could do anything, she shrieked as she found herself suddenly yanked back, her body colliding with the closed door. Immediately Ivar's mouth claimed hers in a hungry, feverish kiss. His body pinned her to the door, hands kneading her hips. It was all she could do to just breathe. Her hands clung to his broad shoulders, desperate to stay above the waves of passion-fueled desire that surged unchecked within her. 

 Ivar withdrew his mouth from hers, but only to place kisses over her cheeks, washing away her tears with his affections. "Don't listen to her. Her and I. We are through. I will never go back to her. She has been sniffing around but that ends tonight. I won't fucking let her talk to you again. I fucking swear it."

 "Ivar…." She whined, tilting her head. An open invitation which he took. 

 He swooped in, continuing to speak between leaving open-mouth kisses on her neck. "It's you. It's you I want. It's you I think about all the time. Fuck, kitten, you have no idea how much I want you. And seeing you do those yoga poses in that swimsuit…. fuck! You looked so goddamn sexy; I got a hard-on just watching." He grabbed her thigh, lifting it up and curling it behind him, pressing himself against her core. At the touch of his hardened length against her, she whimpered. "Do you feel that? That's for you, søte Kari."

 She could not help but roll her hips, grinding against his erection, body automatically seeking friction. 

 "Yes! Fuck." He growled against her neck. "Come here."

 She whined when he released her leg, letting it fall down to the floor. Her breathing was unsteady already, heart hammering away in her chest. A part of her knew she should stop this, open the door behind her and walk out to avoid the temptation. Yet when his hand latched onto hers once again, tugging her towards one of the couches, she followed willingly, unable to deny the sweet sin that was Ivar.

 He dropped onto the couch and settled her into his lap to straddle him. As she settled, he grabbed a handful of the cover over her and yanked it off, tossing it haphazardly onto the floor. Her first instinct was to cover her chest, but as her arms moved to do that, Ivar guided them behind his head. His gaze drunk in the curves of her body, an unashamed starved look in his eyes that made her shudder as it further ignited the fire in her belly. 

 "Kattungen min." He whispered reverently. "Fucking hell, so gorgeous. No one else gets to touch you like I do. Got it? You're mine." He started lavishing her chest and neck with his mouth, alternating between his lips and tongue. 

 She knew she should feel more self-conscious straddling Ivar's lap in only the swimsuit that barely covered all of her assets; but it was as if his touch banished the thoughts away. Instead she felt beautiful and cherished. 

 He palmed one of her breasts and the moan that escaped her was pure wanton. Hands tangled in his long locks as her hips ground harder against his erection in response. His leg braces were only an afterthought that did not impede her actions. 

 "Ivar, please."

 "That's it. Fuck, you're so beautiful. I can't wait to fuck you senseless."

 Suddenly he shifted under her, his hand fumbling between them. Her mind barely took notice as he sucked the skin between her breasts, something that would definitely leave a mark. Next thing she knew, his cock was freed, standing at attention between them. 

 Before she could protest, he spoke up. "I know you're not ready." He slid it under her, pulling her hips back down. At the sensation of his cock rubbing her slit with only the thin barrier of the bikini bottom between them, she threw her head back with a whine. Desire roared through her like a freight train as his cock rubbed against her soaking core. 

 "You like that, kitten?"

 "Yes." She sighed out, head tilted back as she rolled her hips. 

 "Good, my turn." He reached behind her and promptly untied the straps of the bikini top behind her back. 

 "Ivar!" She tried to cover herself but he swatted her hands away. 

 "Trust me."

 Once she relented, he laid a hard kiss to her lips then tugged the top over her head, the band behind her neck without a tie. She desperately wanted to cover herself, now before him feeling on full display. But it was the look on his face that stilled her movements. 

 "Guder. Du er utsøkt. Faen. Den vakreste kvinnen." He murmured with adoration and awe dripping off each word. 

 "What did you say?"

 Instead of answering her, he lowered his face to her chest and captured one of her perky nipples in his mouth. His other hand moved to grab one of her ass cheeks, encouraging her to keep riding him. 

 All breath vanished from her lungs. All thoughts and insecurities fled under his touch. Her hands tangled in his hair, keeping his mouth on her. All she could feel was him. All she wanted to feel was him. Gasps and moans slipped from her as she allowed herself to be overtaken and drawn into an ocean of pleasure. 

 She could feel herself rising higher and higher, riding the wave. Her mind was becoming delirious from fire in her veins and the motion of her hips rocking over his exposed cock. 

 To her surprise, Ivar grabbed a handful of hair at the back of her neck. "That's it, beautiful. Fuck. Let's see what that bendy spine can do." Carefully, he pulled on her hair, not in a painful way but as if to guide her. Willingly submitting herself, she bent her back, following his lead. When her chest was parallel to the ceiling, he stopped pulling, keeping her suspended with her back arched. 

 Ivar groaned loudly, thrusting against her. She met his action, too absorbed in the bliss to care about decency. 

 "All the dirty, fucking things this makes me want to do to you." He licked a scalding line up her sternum, only to swirl his tongue around one of her nipples, making her mewl as she continued to move her hips faster. "Come for me."

 "Yes, yes." She chanted. "Ivar, please."

 "Keep begging, kitten. Let me know how much you want my cock."

 As her climax hit, the tightening coil in her core sprung loose, her mouth dropped open in a silent scream. Wave after wave rolled over her. She could feel Ivar grunt and thrust a few more times beneath her before retracing his cock and spurting onto her exposed stomach. After he released her hair, letting her rise back up to face him. Their eyes fixated on one another, chests heaving as they struggled for breath. 

 Gently, she reached out and touched his cheek, a shy smile on her face. Then, when he made no move to pull away, she leaned forward, uncaring of his cum slipping down her stomach, and drew him into a lazy, slow kiss. He responded, lips melding to hers in a way that was full of softness and contentment. After a moment, she felt him reach behind him for the blanket laying on the back of the couch and wipe her stomach off, all the while never abandoning their kiss. 

 Once she was clean, he dropped the blanket to the floor and somehow managed to keep their lips locked as he guided them to lay down on the couch, their bare chests pressed together and his arm under her head, legs tangled. 

 "Do you believe me now?" He eventually asked, leaning back but only far enough so the tips of their noses almost touched. 

 "Mmmm?"

 "That it's you I want. Freydis and anyone else can go fuck themselves for all I care."

 She bit her bottom lip and dropped her gaze. "I don't understand why."

 "What are you talking about?"

 "I mean…. Margrethe said I'm not your…. type."

 He snorted and muttered under his breath, "fucking bitch".

 "But she's right." Kari pressed onward, her hand running up and down his side as if to ground herself. "I mean, I could never compare to Freydis…. or Torvi or Gyda or any of them. They are all beautiful and….and in perfect shape. I'm not. My thighs and butt are too big and I'm maybe pretty but that's it."

 "You're right. You're not my usual type. But those girls, I'd fuck them and then never look their way again. You though, fuck, I can barely take my eyes off you when you're around. And these," he reached down and grabbed a handful of one of her ass cheeks, making her squeak. "I love them. And these thighs, fucking hell, kitten, I want you to suffocate me with them when I finally eat you out."

 She gasped, a bolt of electricity shooting through her at the image. 

 A devilish grin grew on his face, his hand stroking her ass cheek. "You like that idea? My tongue teasing your folds before slipping inside of you. Your thighs wrapped around my head as I feast on your pussy."

 "Ivar." She whined, unable to stop the sudden roll of her hips. 

 "Soon, sweet Kari." He chuckled darkly, ceasing her movement by melding their hips together. "And your tits, gods, they are perfect. I could stare at them all day."

 She giggled even as she flushed under his praise. "I'm sorry for doubting you. I guess, I'm still just surprised you'd…. well, that you want me."

 "You are mine. You're my woman." He stated resolutely, gazing directly into her eyes so she could see how serious he was. 

 "But we aren't dating…."

 "Doesn't fucking matter. You're mine. And one of these days you'll change your mind and stop playing this game of trying to keep me away."

 She sighed, wishing it would be that easy. Before he could continue with that argument, she changed the subject. "You know, I think we exceeded our kiss quota for the day."

 He snorted. "I didn't see you complaining earlier."

 "That's true. Do you think we should head back out?"

 "If I see Freydis or Margrethe right now…." His voice trailed off, but the fury from earlier lingered in the unspoken threat. 

 "I know. We don't have too. I'm okay right here." 

 A grateful smile on his lips, he kissed her quickly then rolled her onto her back and laid his head on her chest. They relaxed like that for several minutes in silence, her hand running through his hair, just enjoying the feeling of complacency and peace between them now after their fight. If you could even call it that. 

 Finally, she spoke up in a hushed tone, a random question coming to mind. "Do you ever get in the pool?"

 "No."

 "Oh." Was all she could say after his sharp, barbed answer. Clearly it was a subject that was not open for discussion. Her mind wandered, wondering what happened to cause such a response from him. An uncomfortable tension hung over them after his response. Something she was not sure if she should try and dissipate or ignore for now. 

 After a minute of continued silence, he kissed her chest, letting his lips linger there as if using the extra time to mentally prepare himself. Before she could tell him it was none of her business, he spoke. His tone was quiet and, in anyone else, almost shaky. 

 "I…. I used to try when I was younger. They'd put me on one of those stupid floating things and pull me around or someone would hold me. Then, when I was about seven…. Sigurd and I got in a big fight earlier that day. He claimed I broke one of his toys. Fucking asshole. I was sitting by the pool, this in our childhood home in Kattegat, I liked to watch things float on the water. Sigurd walked by me and….and pushed me over the edge."

 She gasped. "Oh Ivar…."

 "Ubbe jumped in and pulled my half-drown ass out." He nuzzled against her skin; his tone having lost the insecurity as he reassured her. "I'm alright, Kari."

 She drew his face up and gave him a long kiss, their mouth connecting with a deeper need and alleviation. "Remind me to thank Ubbe when I see him next."

 He rolled his eyes. "Don't. He's never let me forget the fact."

 "Still."

 They laid there for some more time, wrapped up in one another and content in the peaceful stillness. She could not help but think about the memory Ivar shared with her. How far back did that resentment go between the brothers? Had there ever been a time where they cared for one another? And how bad was the animosity between them if one was willing to kill the other, even as children? If her arms tightened around him, neither one mentioned it as they continued to lay there. 

 A loud knock on the door followed by a yell through the door of "are you two done yet?" disturbed their peace. 

 "Hvits, fuck off!" Ivar called back, burrowing his face between her breasts. 

 "Do you have clothes on at least?!"

 "I do!" 

 Kari swatted the back of Ivar's head at his admission. Leaning up slightly, he gave her a cheeky wink before laying his head back down. 

 "Well cover up, I'm coming in!" Hvitserk yelled through the door. 

 "Ivar, get up." Kari softly said, a panic setting in at the brother coming in and seeing them in this suggestive position and her topless. 

 "No." He mumbled. 

 Before she could shove him off, he snatched the throw blanket off the floor and threw it over his head to cover her chest. As she began to protest, the door cautiously opened. In an instant, she tried to spread out the blanket over them as best as she could, keeping the blanket over her chest and spread it somewhat over their torsos. Although how much good it did was questionable. She peered over to see Hvitserk standing in the doorway with an amused look before shaking his head and stepping in, closing the door behind him. 

 "What the fuck do you want?" Ivar asked, muffled by the blanket and his face still pressed against her skin. 

 Kari raised her gaze to the ceiling for a moment then mouthed to Hvitserk, "I'm sorry."

 Hvitserk winked at her before answering. "Bjorn and Torvi want everyone together before they leave. Sounds like they have an announcement or something."

 "Are the bitches still here?"

 "Yeah." Hvitserk sighed. 

 "Then no."

 "I'll go." Kari softly said. "It must be important."

 "No, you aren't." Ivar nipped at the side of her breast, making her squirm. 

 "Well everyone is waiting on you two." Hvitserk pointed out as he watched, clearly entertained if his broad grin said anything. 

 "I'm coming."

 Ivar pulled the blanket back slightly to stare up at her. "Why the fuck do you want to see them?"

 "Is it….is it terrible I want to show Frey…. her that I'm still here. That no matter what they said, that I'm not going anywhere."

 A positively, feral grin spread over his face. He swooped in and pressed a devastating kiss to her mouth, not letting up until she thought she would suffocate from the intensity of it. "Let's go." 

 He started to rise up but when she squeaked and tried to clutch the blanket to her, he froze. 

 "Hvits, leave."

 "You sure I can't stay?" His smirk grew as he caught Kari's eye and watched her flush deepen. 

 "GO!" Ivar bellowed, glaring at his older brother. 

 "Fine. I'll wait out here for you. If you're not out in three minutes, I'm coming back in." Hvitserk stepped outside and closed the door behind him. 

 Ivar carefully slid off of her, standing up beside the couch, the blanket in hand. His predatory, blue eyes remained trained on her form, raking over her body like a sweet he wanted to devour completely. A familiar warmth awakened in her core, even as she shyly glanced away, covering her naked breasts with her hands. 

 "Fuck, you're gorgeous. On second thought, I think we should stay. I need another taste of you and to hear you moaning my name for everyone to fucking hear."

 She squealed, quickly skirting away from him before he could pounce on her. "Ivar, no!" Yet, miraculously, he managed to snag an arm around her waist and drag her back against his chest. 

 "Should we make an announcement of our own?" He asked, running his nose along the shell of her ear, chuckling under his breath when she shivered against him.

 "What do you mean?"

 "That you're my girlfriend. That this just-friends is shit."

 "I…." She balked, eyes wide and heart beating a painful staccato in her chest. “We…. we can't."

 "Why the fuck not?" He grasped her breasts, rolling her peaked nipples between his fingers. 

 She practically swallowed her tongue, biting back the moan lodged in her throat. When she was positive she could control her voice, she replied. "We've talked about this. I'm just…. I’m not ready."

 "But you'll practically let me fuck you?"

 At his harsh snap, she tried to push out of his embrace, unwilling to have this conversation in their current predicament or maybe have the conversation at all. The innate desire to flee rose up in her but she tried to force it down as she squirmed in his arms. He held her firm, not giving up an inch, her body flush against his own. 

 "Ivar!" 

 "What aren't you telling me?" 

 She hated both herself and him in the moment as she ceased her escape attempts. She hated him for continuously pushing her, for ignoring her words and trying to force her where he wanted her to be. Even more though, she hated herself. If she had kept away from him, however unlikely that was, if she did not have to hide, then none of this would matter. If she could be honest, truly honest, he would most likely reject her. And that was why she hated herself most. Because she was selfish and wanted his attention and affection, even knowing if he knew who she truly was, he would walk away. 

 Carefully, she turned her head to meet his stormy eyes. "I promise one day I will. I just…. can we please just enjoy this? What we have? I just need…. time."

 He stared down at her for a long time. She wondered what he read in her face when he finally gave a resigned sigh. "Fine. I'm telling people you are my girlfriend though."

 "You're unbelievable."

 "I think you like that about me." He matched her smile with his own before letting her go.  

 She quickly found her bikini top, noticing Ivar not-so-subtly adjusting his sweatpants. She slipped it over her head but when she went to tie the straps, a pair of calloused hands covered hers. Without a word, he tied it behind her back. Once done, his hand slowly prowled down her back to lightly smack her ass. 

 "Hey!" She whipped around, only to see a Cheshire grin on his face. 

 "That's my sexy ass."

 "Oh my god. Unbelievable." She muttered to herself as she snatched up the cover and pulled it over. She looked down at the blanket piled on the floor. 

 "Leave it. I'll deal with it later." He took her hand and walked with her towards the door. When they opened it, a still-shirtless Hvitserk stood leaning against the wall across from them. 

 "Took you two long enough. Damn. Almost came in and threw Kari over my shoulder to get you out." 

 Ivar spat something out in their language that made Hvitserk roll his eyes. Before they could move further down the hallway, Hvitserk reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, freezing her in place.  

 "Hey, whatever they said. Just try to ignore it. We all want you here. Hell, all of us would kick them to the damn curb if Ubbe would let us. But Ubbe and Bjorn have already approved of you."

 Ivar scoffed but Hvitserk kept his gaze on hers, letting her know he was serious. 

 "Just know, we're on your side."

 "Thank you, Hvitty." She squeezed his hand, warmth blooming in her chest at his words.  

 "Either one of them tries to talk to her, I'll strangle them." Ivar growled, starting down the hallway, towing Kari behind him. 

 "You can't kill them, Ivar. Mother said murder is wrong."

 Ivar laughed, looking over his shoulder at his brother. "Mother still loves me."

 "Yeah, yeah, we all know you're her favorite."

 "Can you blame her? Look at me. I'm far superior and more interesting than the rest of you."

 "Keep telling yourself that."

 Kari could not help but smile at their teasing, a mock argument that sounded like it had been executed many times before until now it was said out of fondness and mock sibling rivalry. 

 The three walked back outside through the glassed-in porch. On the way, she noticed her purse back next to Gyda's bag and wondered if Hvitserk moved it there for her. Outside, everyone else sat on chairs or lounge chairs that were grouped in a haphazard circle, obviously waiting for the remainder of the group to join.  

 "What took you so long? Thought we'd have to send a search party to find you." Bjorn called out as the three approached. 

 "I got 'em. The library reeks of sex though." Hvitserk said, dodging Kari's swing. 

 Ivar guided her back to the lounge chair they had been sitting in earlier, tucking her into his side with a hand laying possessively on her hip. Hvitserk sat on her other side instead of pulling a new chair over. She tried to ignore Margrethe and Freydis who sat across from them, keeping her eyes trained on her lap, fiddling with the hem of her cover.  

 "Ok, now that we're finally all here." Bjorn said, standing up with Asa in his arms. "We just wanted to tell our family the good news in person."

 "Torvi is pregnant!" Gyda blurted, staring at her sister-in-law in shock. 

 "Fuck! Gyda!" Bjorn groaned. 

 "Daddy said a bad word." Hali looked over at his mother from his spot next to Sigurd. 

 "Yes, he did, thank you, Hali." Torvi replied smiling then addressed the group. "I'm about two months along. So right now, we are only telling family, so please don't share this with anyone else yet."

 "Wow! A third! Congrats!" Ubbe started, others immediately echoing their own congratulations and well-wishes. 

 Kari jumped up and moved to give Torvi a hug after Gyda. "I know we haven't known each other long but I'm so excited for you. You're an amazing mother."

 "Thank you, Kari. Maybe your own time will come soon." She shooting her eyes over to Ivar for a second then meeting Kari's again. 

 "Oh, I don't know." She blushed at the thought. After another brief hug, Kari returned to her seat. 

 "How old are you?" Hvitserk asked suddenly. 

 "Um, I turned twenty-five this summer."

 "Ha! Still the baby of the group." Sigurd laughed, pointing his beer bottle at Ivar.  

 "Hey, nothing is wrong with an older woman. We're in our sexual prime." Gyda defended. 

 "She's not that much older." Ivar retorted, his hand skimming up and down Kari's thigh. "Just a year."

 "And a few months. You're turning twenty-four after the new year." Ubbe helpfully added with a grin. 

 "Fuck off." 

 "Mommy, Uncle Ivar said a bad word now."

 "Yes, he did, Hali. I think it's time for us to go. Say goodbye to everyone." Torvi said. After a round of goodbyes and hugs to all the uncles and aunt, the small family headed back through the house to head to their own home.

 "Did you know Ivar is younger than you?" Hvitserk asked conspiringly, once conversation started around them again. 

 She tilted her head as she looked at him, slowly answering his question. “Yeah…. we talked about this a while ago."

 "Good. Do you want kids?"

 "Hvits, what is this?" Ivar butted in. 

 "Just testing the waters to see how she feels about having my babies. You know they'd be beautiful." Hvitserk chuckled when Ivar glared at him. 

 "Be nice you two or I'm moving." Kari chided. 

 "Yes, mom." Hvitserk said, sneaking a kiss to her cheek before jumping away. He turned around and pointed at her as he walked backwards. "One day you'll have my babies!" 

 She laughed, shaking her head. She could practically feel the smoke coming from Ivar's ears. Before he could burst a vein, she leaned closer to him and laid her head against his shoulder. "He knows I'm yours."

 "He fucking better or I'll beat his ass to remind him." Ivar murmured, nuzzling her temple. 

 She relaxed against him, looking around the backyard. Hvitserk and Ubbe had started some kind of wrestling competition in the pool, both looking like they were trying to drown each other. Gyda and Ivar called insults from their seats. Sigurd was texting on his phone but occasionally looking up and making a comment. At one point he caught her eye and gave her a brief nod, which she smiled back, hoping any animosity between the two of them from her earlier comment was gone. She purposefully ignored the whispering between Margrethe and Freydis, taking a note from Ivar's book and acting as if they did not exist. 

 Looking at the Lothbrok family around her, she smiled at the group, still amazed she found herself in their midst and how welcoming most of them were. For almost two years she had been alone in a new country, thinking that was what she wanted. Now though, she wondered if she had just been missing a group that accepted her without question. 

 She peered up at Ivar, heart swelling with gratitude and affection. Without second guessing herself, she kissed his cheek and leaned back against his shoulder. He hummed, placing his own kiss to the top of her head. 

 She wondered if she should just give up fighting this, whatever this was between them. Maybe it would work out. Maybe everything would not fall apart as soon as the truth fell from her lips. Maybe he could accept her past and who she was. 

 Silently, she shook the thoughts away. It was still too soon to tell and if she was honest, she did not want to lose this. 

 Or lose him. 

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 9.1

Author’s Note:  Short chapter.  My anxiety has gotten really bad and I’m busy so I could use some virtual hugs haha

"You dared to deceive an archon?"

The bellow hung heavy in the morning air, but Childe didn't flinch.  "Oh?  If my memory serves me correctly, you were all for my plan."  A slight excitement rushed within his chest at the thought of the possibility of fighting an archon today.  The joy he would feel! To have the privilege of testing his strength against a former god--

"Don't play games with me," Zhongli growled, his infuriated gaze sliding to the brat that was more than amused at his ill-composed state.  Archons, the consultant was trying so hard not to summon a meteor this instant--something his past self would've done without a moment of hesitation.  "You nearly--"

"I never claimed to be one of the good guys, sensei."  

Zhongli bit the inside of his lip until he drew blood and his eyes glowed a threatening yellow that was far too similar to the Exuvia.  He so desperately wanted to run Childe into the ground, to pummel him with the same spears that defeated Osial himself.  To do so would mean the complete and utter destruction of the harbor that sat below them, as they were on the hill behind the Liyue Qixing's headquarters.  The sun beat down on them harshly as if to mirror Zhongli's rage.

"I have my own agenda to fulfill, in the end."  Something somewhat apologetic flashed in the harbinger's eyes before he looked out to the vast sea, still unflinching from Zhongli's threatening aura.

"You have broken a contract.  A breach in trust.  Do you know what this means for you?"  I'll end him right here.  As a cost for the Tsaritsa to pay for breaching--No.  Zhongli took a deep breath to quell the raging tides of fury that swirled in his being.  No.  The Tsaritsa broke no contract.  I willingly gave Xiao after being played like a fool by Childe.  That's right.  Anger consumes all rational thought; Zhongli could not allow himself to make the same mistakes.  To do so would surely destroy any concept of safety for you and Xiao.

"I will fight to the death if you see it fit, Mr. Zhongli."  The corner of his lips curled slightly upwards after hearing the anger in the consultant's voice, but they downturned again as he turned to face the man.  "But, as I see it, I have learned from that...experience in Fontaine."

Zhongli's hard gaze remained unwavering as stone.

"Mezzetin..."  Childe returned to his view of the ocean.  "...has been in too dark of a place as of late.  I had deceived you in an effort to protect her from your yaksha; his presence seemed to have too negative of an impact on her.  So I thought, for her benefit, I would recruit her into the Fatui for her own safety.  From Xiao, and from the unrelenting forces of Snezhnaya.  She wouldn't have to live in fear of us as long as she was with us.

"But then another side effect showed up and I realized I had made a mistake for deceiving you, Mr. Zhongli.  I was mistaken to think that the yaksha was the problem instead of the distance between the pair.  That, dear sensei, is why I brought her here for the Lantern Rite."

While he's speaking from the heart, he is still being untruthful.  The archon stood unmoving, rage reigniting a little until a memory of Guizhong flashed in his mind.  He wouldn't bring her to Liyue without another motive.

"I'm speaking honestly, Mr. Zhongli."  Childe didn't even hold his signature smile across his lips; he was dead serious.  "While this excursion most definitely benefits the Tsaritsa, I only brought Mezzetin for her own wellbeing."

Zhongli still wasn't buying it, and he approached Childe until he was at his ear.  His low voice had to have dropped an octave lower while he maintained his composed but threatening demeanor.  "The next time you cross me or seek to harm those in our group, you will join Osial below Guyun Stone Forest."

The threat was enough to send a slight chill down Childe's spine, as reluctant as he would admit it, but the harbinger grinned darkly nonetheless.  After all, how could a measly chill overpower the thrill of battle he always got?  It egged him on, but...he did consider Zhongli a comrade more than a means to an end for the Tsaritsa.  One that he didn't want to lose, even if he was still pissed that the consultant had deceived him for being a human and not the Lord of Geo.

The archon began to brush past Childe, when the harbinger gripped his shoulder to keep him in place.  "Mark my words, Mr. Zhongli.  When the time comes, you will be relying on me once more."

What?  Zhongli rotated his head, but Childe had already let go of his shoulder and started to walk off.  He would've perceived the statement as the threat that it was, if it weren't for the different fluctuations in Childe's voice.  Was that melancholy he sensed?  Guilt?  Uncertainty?  Zhongli narrowed his eyes as he watched the harbinger scale off the mountain with his glider.

Perhaps that was enough to get through to him, Childe thought to himself without peering over his shoulder.  He didn't dare say too much.  The Tsaritsa will get what she needs for her war; what's it to her if he moves a few chess pieces across the board himself?  This is the only time he would ever allow to make such a daring exception.  As long as you and Aether didn't try to intervene down the line, then maybe he could bring you freedom...

That was a cry for help, Zhongli found himself dumb-founded. Childe's figure was now a spec in the distance and near touchdown in the plaza.

.......................

"Will you two cut it out already?!" You had thought that the subject had long passed, but apparently Aether had no mercy teasing you as he had always teased Paimon.  "We didn't do anything! How many times do I have to say that?"  You drew a deep breath to keep up with your mouth.  "Or do I have to whack it into you?!"

"Hm, dunno, Paimon thinks denial is even more suspicious than silence!"

"Ugh, why did you have to go and say we 'slept together...'"  Your head dropped into your hands in an exasperated manner, eyebrows furrowing together with the threat of an impending headache.

"Mortals make too large of a fuss over such trivial matters.  It was really nothing," Xiao scoffed at the traveler and the weird floating thing he still couldn't figure out.  It was then that he remembered your odd behavior in bed this morning, and how you were exhibiting the same redness now.  "Though...I do have a few questions.  Why do humans flush red at the most random of times?"

"EH?!"  Your hand instinctually flew to his mouth, nearly covering up--except the yaksha caught your wrist before you had the chance to prevent him from saying anything else that could be perceived the wrong way.  "What are you--?!  Just stop talking!"

"Like now," Xiao noted aloud, completely oblivious to the dumb-founded shock--or what could've been exasperated horror--on Aether's and Paimon's faces.

"Think of it as a defense mechanism," Childe approached the group, completely lacking the tension from earlier.  "Or as an indicator for lying."

"'Lying?'"  Xiao looked unconvinced as his eyes met yours.  You definitely didn't flush red when lying.

"Well, in some settings," Childe let out a chuckle before plopping his hand atop your head.  It wouldn't be inaccurate to think that Xiao nearly summoned his weapon and thought of slicing his hand off right then and there.  "Are you ready to go?"

"Go?  But you said tomorrow."  Lips pursed into an irritated pout as you turned to face him, nonchalantly pushing his hand off of you in the process.  "And Zhongli said something about a possible del-"

"The matter is settled."  Was it just you, or was his smile a little strained?

"And if we don't let you take her back?"  Aether stepped forward.  A few pedestrians glanced his way while passing the group.

"Oh? Is this your way of asking me for a fight? I'd be happy to humor you."

"You can't take all three of us at once," the boy took another step forward, this time lowering his stance as if he were ready to lunge at the harbinger.  Paimon egged him on.  

"Will you two stop with this macho contest?"  Your growl seemed to snap them out of it.  "No one is fighting.  I left with the harbingers to prevent that from happening."

"If the lady insists." Child winked at Aether, who scoffed in turn.  Then he faced you once more.  "As for the sudden change in our depart, I simply changed my mind.  Meet at the Northland Bank.  You have one hour."

.....................

"One hour?!?!" You were still fuming over the smug smile that had tugged at the corner of Childe's lips after the three of you parted from him.  "What...What am I supposed to do in an hour?!  I swear I'm gonna--"

"Paimon thinks we should take him out now!"  

"Why are you so bloodthirsty when it comes to Childe?"  Aether reminded her to keep her voice down, suddenly conscious of the stares you were all getting.

"Why aren't you?  He's lied to us, hurt us, and now he's hurting our friends!  Paimon simply can't accept that!"

Aether had long since tuned Paimon's voice out and was focused on you and Xiao instead.  The lack of eye contact between the two of you made it blatantly obvious there were some things to discuss privately. "We'll let you have some alone time."

"Huh?  Why're you leaving?" You spun on your heel with a confused expression, whirling to a stop once you faced the boy.  "Shouldn't we all be together before I--"

"You'd rather not be alone with your boyfriend before you leave?"  A confused, innocent tilt of the head sent you into another wave of embarrassment.

"B-boyfriend?!"

"Hold up!  You're telling Paimon you're embarrassed by THAT even though you two--"

"Boy...friend...?" Xiao's face twisted in clear disgust as if he had eaten something sour, the words being carefully sounded out. You were his companion.  What is this 'boy friend' term being flung around all of a sudden?  "I've lived for a millennia and you dare refer to me as a child?  Have you no respect for the adepti?"

"U-um!"  Your stammer caught the attention of his narrowed eyes, and his gaze softened slightly.  "Just ignore them.  It's not a bad term or anything of the sort," you sent a pleading glance Aether's way so he wouldn't reveal the meaning of the word.  Boyfriend...ah, I guess he is now...!  Despite your heated cheeks, a flutter of excitement pressed against your chest at the thought and you broke eye contact with the yaksha.

"Yeah, you two need to talk about that," Aether laughed before turning serious.  "Be careful.  If you need help, Xiao can hear you, right?  You just need to pray to him and--"

You nodded, "I know," and gifted him with a grim smile.  "Don't worry about me.  Focus on finding your sister.  I'll figure out a way to deal with the Tsaritsa sooner or later."  You pulled him into a tight hug, yanking Paimon out of the air to envelope her in one too.  "I'll come back."

"That better be a promise you won't break."

"I swear it on my Granny's grave."  The three of you released one another and stepped back.  You waved them goodbye as they ran in the direction of the funeral parlor before turning to Xiao.  "So..."

Xiao crossed his arms and shifted his weight onto his other foot, closing his eyes in a somewhat pensive manner.  "Is there anything you wanted to do before you leave?"

[sillyguyhotline]

17. “How is any of this ok?” with Joe and Sara maybe?

dude im gonna be completely honest i havent written anything in like a month so i think the quality isnt gonna be great but here goes nothing

God, Sara missed the feeling of home.

Every semblance of familiarity and comfort she’d once found in the town she’d grown up in, the house she’d spent her childhood running through, now felt chillingly foreign.

Perhaps it was the heavy burden of knowledge weighing fresh upon her shoulders: ASUNARO’s corruption seemed now to peer slyly around every corner, no matter where she went. She still didn’t know how much of the town had rotted away under its grasp, how much of the town its poison had pervaded… but she was probably better off not knowing.

Whatever was left of Midori, that miserable mix of pulsing blood and electronic emotion, had been ground to bits inside that coffin… but Sara couldn’t ignore the creeping fear that his burning, ever-present gaze would appear out of nowhere and terrorize her again.

But he wouldn’t. The death game was over, and they’d promised they would never hurt her or any of her loved ones again.

Most of the loved ones she still encountered day-to-day, gruesomely blood splattered and sitting like corpses propped up hastily in a corner, would be safe no matter if ASUNARO was fresh on her tail or a thousand miles away. What a cruel price to pay for safety, to never be hurt again.

They still lived on if Sara closed her eyes tight enough, if she listened to the twisting words of the hallucinations and let them convince her she was monstrous. But the second she dared to open her eyes, she knew they’d be dead again. Life worked in terrible ways, and that was all there was to it.

Joe’s house had always been a second home to her, ever since the two of them became friends. Joe was the farthest cry from Sara in terms of social interactions- it had taken at least 3 months for Sara to trust Joe enough to invite him over, but Joe had insisted she hang out at his house the very same day they became friendly enough to exchange more than a sentence with each other.

There was a certain sort of comfort to the warmth of his house, the constant scent of cooking food pervading the air and the little trinkets scattered in every corner. No surface of his house went without decoration, in its silly little way. It was full of pictures, too, some carefully framed and some dangling from the wall by pushpins, but Sara got the sense that none of the photos went unloved. Most of them were occupied by an orange-haired man, often carrying a younger Joe (back when he was still sporting that atrocious crew cut). Sara always assumed it was his dad, but thought it would be impolite to ask… particularly when the weeks stretched on and Sara had yet to meet that mysterious orange-haired man.

Eventually, pictures of Sara began to join the collage on the wall- pictures taken as she butchered yet another pop song during karaoke, or when they went out to get food, or when she mistakenly sat down on a traffic cone during gym (after many protests from Sara, he took that one down). As silly as the pictures were, and as obvious as it was that Joe had waited for the most embarrassing moments to take them, it was sort of sweet in a way.

Joe’s mother was always kind to her, though there was a constant weariness in her eyes that Sara always felt a bit uneasy about questioning. Sometimes she’d let the two of them cook things in the kitchen, but more often than not they’d go up to Joe’s room and screw around in there, with video games or music or the 50 times Joe tried to persuade Sara to climb out the window and sit on the roof with him before she finally agreed.

As rare as it was for Sara to agree to sit on the roof, it was even rarer for Joe to agree to study with her, much to Sara’s chagrin. Joe had always walked a fine line between passing and failing, but Sara had to admit he walked it well. When she did manage to convince him to study, though (usually the day before final exams), they’d sit on the cushy couch in his living room and somehow manage to bother each other as much as possible while feigning concentration.

The couch hadn’t changed after several years- Sara could tell that much the minute she sat down on it and avoided the urge to break eye contact with Joe’s mother. It was still well-worn, a couch that likely should have been replaced at least a decade ago but had never really been disposed of. Loose threads were protruding from the cover, drawn out from years of visitors fidgeting with them.

Sara shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the slight motion making her sink deeper into the couch’s soft cushioning. She’d only spent one minute in the house and was already sweating, whether from the heat of the home or the thousand-yard stare of the woman sitting across from her.

Ryoko was there, too, sitting to Sara’s left and gazing listlessly at the well-trodden carpet beneath her feet. …Ryoko.

Sara cast a hesitant glance around the room, duly noting the photos covering the walls. Not a single one of hers had been taken down, but several more photos had appeared with Joe’s beaming face featuring prominently in them. Joe’s presence was always enough to fill a room even when he wasn’t speaking; it took a lot to fill in the gaps left by his absence.

God, she missed him.

The wind whistled against the window-screen; Sara had memorized the familiar creak of the wooden window frame being lifted up to welcome in the mild autumn air. Sara had always thought of autumn as a beginning- she loved summer as much as any other kid, but as the haze of the weather began to wind down she was quick to grow impatient and look forward to the school year, to being productive again. Joe had always disagreed with her.

“Fall is the literal death of fun,” he’d complained once, walking home with Sara after finishing the first week of school. “Couldn’t they have pushed back the first day of school by, like, another week? You think if we got enough people to sign a petition, they’d give us an extra week of summer?”

“Oh, come on, we both know even if you had an extra week of summer you’d just be complaining a week later,” Sara had teased back.

The death of fun. It certainly felt like that, Sara decided. She’d never feared the looming darkness of fall and winter quite so much before. But now, she supposed, there was no sunshine who’d weather it with her.

“Well… Sara?” Joe’s mother spoke up, voice hoarse with the sound of repressed tears in her throat. Sara recognized the sound all too well.

There was no resentment in the woman’s eyes when Sara made eye contact with her. No anger, no frustration, nor had there been any in her measured motions when she welcomed Sara into the home. It didn’t take any words for Sara to tell that there was no blame to be foisted upon her.

She was still Joe’s best friend.

“I’m sorry to have dragged you out here on such short notice.” The woman’s voice was weak. “I don’t know all the details of what happened, of course. Haven’t heard anything, aside from the little tidbits the police told me when I dropped by the station.”

Sara’s shoulders stiffened at the mention of the police, at the idea of them pleasantly answering her questions as though they weren’t just as complicit in that tragedy as ASUNARO had been.

“And…” the woman glanced down at her hands, toughened from a lifetime of working. “I know something terrible happened to you. The circles under your eyes are darker than midnight, I know it’s so selfish of me to be dragging you out here, but… I haven’t slept a wink for weeks. Been so worried about Joe, and about you too.”

She nodded in the direction of the black-haired girl who hadn’t spoken a word the entire time. “Ryoko’s been worried about the both of you, too. Your parents weren’t answering the door, so she went to me. I hope you’ll forgive the two of us for disturbing you, Sara, but… you have the answers the police won’t give us, don’t you?”

God, her gaze was piercing.

“...Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

It was taking everything in Sara’s power not to look at the vacant seat to her right. If Joe was there, he would have been laughing and lightening the mood, completing the circle that had been left so jarringly empty.

But they wouldn’t have been having this conversation if Joe was there.

Ms. Tazuna nodded slowly. “This means the world to me, Sara. Don’t forget that.”

Sara did her best to muster a smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

The woman gave another nod, eyes defocusing as though even now, she wasn’t quite sure why she was there. “Alright. Alright. Well, then…” She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “Guess I should get right to the point, yeah? Is he… is… how is he…?”

So she still hadn’t quite let go of that little thread of hope, even after seeing Sara return home safe and alive with no best friend in tow. Who was Sara to judge? When hope was the only thing to cling to, it only made sense to cling to it like a lifeline.

Sara twisted her hands, the same old nervous habit she’d had for years, and wondered briefly if she’d picked it up from Ms. Tazuna. How terrible it was, to carry the news that nobody, much less any mother, ever wanted to hear.

“I… I’m sorry, Ms. Tazuna. He didn’t make it out alive.”

Sara hadn’t expected the hush that immediately fell over the room. She’d expected immediate tears, the grieving cry of a mother in pain. Instead, the room became muffled, still as a painting captured in time.

Slowly, Ryoko looked up from her bitten-down fingers, eyes rimmed red already. Ryoko had always been an emotional person, the only person Sara knew who could fluctuate from full-on sobs to cheerful giggles in less than a minute. Sara was so unused to the look that was now filling her eyes- cold, solid misery. As though there were no tears in her eyes left to cry, no more tragedies to bemoan. Just a deep and horrified comprehension of just how many things in her life had gone wrong.

And, slowly, Ms. Tazuna began to cry.

Tears had become so uncomfortable for Sara to bear witness to. Was it selfish of her to look away? It couldn’t be, not when every raw sob reminded her of the art student seeing her first (and certainly not last) death, of the broken sibling openly weeping over apologies gone unspoken, of the unknowing siblings screaming their throats out with pleas for death so the other could survive.

Especially not now. Not when every tear rang in her mind as a reminder of cold tubes piercing her best friend’s chest, of his corpse slumping and falling in a pool of blood, because oh god he wasn’t supposed to have lost so much blood, how was he supposed to live without it, of the clickclickclickclickclicking rising in volume while her attempts to save him grew feebler and feebler.

Her hands were bloodstained, no matter how many times she tried to scrub them clean. Those dreadful hands of hers had failed her, failed Joe, failed the women sobbing openly in front of her.

She swallowed back the apologies that always rose in her throat as Ms. Tazuna rushed to sniffle back her tears.

“I… god, I… he’s really gone?”

Sara couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Please… please tell me it was a peaceful death. He didn’t… suffer too much, did he?”

The resounding wave of clicks flooded her mind. “It was as peaceful as I could make it. I… he smiled at me, right before he died. I’d… very much like to think that means he was happy when he died.”

“What happened?” Ryoko’s voice came out rough, the first of it Sara had heard in weeks. “Joe told me, after our date, that he was going to walk you home, and then neither of you showed up at school the next day. And now… it’s been three weeks? And Joe… Joe’s dead? What the hell happened, Sara?”

“God,” Sara mumbled, mesmerizing herself with the twisting motions of her own hands. “I’m not sure if you’d even believe me if I told you. I don’t even know if I believe what happened myself.”

“I’d believe anything.” The sentence was firm. “I just want to know what happened.”

Sara nodded wearily. The familiar weight of her bright orange ponytail was notably missing- the day after she’d escaped, she’d demanded the hairdresser cut her hair short and crisp. She shuddered every time she thought about the ponytail brushing against her neck as she spent each argument screaming and protesting for her life. Even worse was the memory of how carefully Joe had styled her hair, forsaking his usual clumsiness to braid every strand with a remarkable tenderness. She didn’t want to remember any of it- even though, as the locks went cascading to the floor, she was reminded starkly of Keiji’s bleach-stained trauma response.

“For some reason, something to do with the mafia, we were kidnapped. And pulled into a death game. There were twenty of us, including me and Joe. I- I’m not going to get into all the specifics. It’s going to make me sick to my stomach if I do. But… they made us play this sadistic fucking game to narrow down the competition. Based on cards. Joe drew a bad card, and… they executed him.” Something in Sara’s throat tightened as she finished speaking, and she fell silent.

“Just like that?” His mother’s voice came out as a hoarse whisper. “How… how’d they kill him?”

“I’d rather not say.” There came the gushing sound of blood pulsing through the tubes. “He didn’t suffer too long” - she hoped - “but it was a gruesome way to die. I don’t want to think about it, please understand.”

It took a moment for his mother to register the words and nod, face still painted with horror.

“Why… how did the two of you even end up there in the first place?” Ryoko spoke up again. “You said something about the mafia? How the hell are you two connected with the mafia?”

“I don’t know how I am,” Sara responded immediately. “It must be something with my family. I couldn’t control any of this, I swear, but… Joe wasn’t meant to end up there at all.”

Ryoko paused. “He… he wasn’t meant to end up there?”

Sara swallowed back the lump in her throat. “The game… it was something that was being prepared for ages. There weren’t just a few ragtag kidnappers behind it, there was an entire organization. Even the police were involved. They ran AI tests, hundreds if not thousands of them, trying to calculate who’d be the most likely to win. And… when all the numbers came back, the person most likely to win… was me.”

She spread her arms wide, baring her sins and her cruelties to the world, and in that moment felt distinctly like the angel of death Keiji had branded her to be.

“They needed something to drag me down, I guess. Make the odds more balanced. So they dragged Joe into this fucking mess. I guess they thought that him being there would keep me steady enough to make everything fair.” A cold hand, dripping with tendrils of phantom blood, caressed her chin with a lethal grip. “...They were right.”

Ryoko’s gaze had gone cold again. “So Joe died just because you cared about him? What the fuck kind of death sentence is that?”

Sara shook her head numbly.

“Why did it have to be him?” The heartbreak in Ryoko’s voice was clearer than day. “So many people love you, Sara, why did it have to be him? Hell, I’m your best friend too, aren’t I? Why couldn’t it have been me? I’m a much worse person than Joe ever was, I deserved to be in his place way more. Couldn’t they have killed me instead?”

Sara winced at the growing desperation in her best friend’s voice, the raw crack she knew all too well. It should have been me, it should have been me, it should have been me. Sara could have almost fooled herself into seeing a crisp aquamarine when Ryoko’s hair flashed into the light.

“Ryoko… it could have been.”

The girl fell silent.

“They had files on you too. They knew how close we were, they knew how much you meant to me… but Joe was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And they fucking killed him for it.”

Oh, how she wished she could go back to that balmy early-autumn night, see the smile on Joe’s face and listen to his lighthearted laughter again. The desire to keep one’s friend safe had become a crime deserving of a death sentence.

Ryoko’s eyes remained locked to Sara’s, devoid of any dullness. In the look they exchanged was a deep, sinking understanding, one that had nauseated Sara to the core the first time the realization struck her.

It was by no crafty strategy that Joe had died instead of Ryoko, no favoritism biased against the kindest person either of them would ever know. It was a simple, terrible twist of fate. Ryoko could have taken his place had she done something as inconsequential as offering to walk Sara home instead.

But she hadn’t.

It took everything in Sara’s power to avoid wondering what would’ve changed if she had.

“How is any of this okay?” Ryoko broke the silence weakly. “They killed him- they could have killed me, too. He was seventeen. Seventeen. How did anybody let this happen? How did this happen, Sara?”

“I- I don’t know.” Ryoko’s wrath was simmering; even though Sara knew truly that she wasn’t the subject of the anger, she still felt scalded. “I miss him so much, Ryoko. I watched him die, and nothing in my power let me save him. I miss him, Ryoko, I miss him every waking minute of every day. We were supposed to escape together and get out safe and pretend this never happened, but…” the tears were beginning to well up again. She couldn’t bear the thought of breaking down in front of anyone, especially not over him.

“I’m going to go make some coffee,” his mother interrupted suddenly. She’d been noticeably quiet, but the still-fresh streaks of tears painted down her cheeks told the story she didn’t need to vocalize. “Some coffee, and some snacks. And we’ll keep talking from there, alright? Do you guys have your phones?”

The two girls nodded uneasily.

“Please… find any pictures you have of him. I want to make this wall as bright as possible.”

Without any other words, she hurried out of the room, and it fell to silence once more. Outside the window, the cool autumn breeze began to stir the leaves in the air, gusting forward to brush against Sara’s cheek just as the hallucination had done mere minutes ago.

And the Tazuna household began to feel more like home again.

[kylorenxreader]

Lonely (kylo ren x reader)

a: kylorenxreader

description: How utterly unruly is it to lust after your ultimate superior? Turns out it’s not as unfortunate as you foretold.

warnings: smUT, moRE SMUT, fluff?, force use, no spoilers for TROS

note: let me know if this is groovy. love hearing from my fellow internet goons.

(DO NOT COPY OR POST MY WRITING AS YOUR OWN: if I find you are- I will expose you)

***

The first time you saw The Supreme Leader without his mask, you felt every last piece of your dignity melt into a puddle and evaporate with each passing second you stared at him. 

 It was inept, and you hated yourself. Every ounce of your commitment was devoted to The Order since you first began your recruitment. You didn’t know what this was, but it sure as hell wasn't loyalty. 

 Your job was simple, a data analyst, and occasionally you were given temporary command over your unit, and you were fit for it. Well, you were more adequate at the whole thing than you had anticipated. You were promoted. The idea of it was pleasing, but all that repletion faded as soon as you stepped foot into the control room and laid eyes on your mask-less commander. 

 How utterly unruly was it to feel something towards your ultimate superior? You were tempted by him- and it was more than alien to you. 

 Sure - you had laid eyes upon a few men in your day. But this was different. 

 It wasn’t just his face. You had detected him months before, hovering inside the hallways, and you felt yourself turn and walk the opposite direction. His stature was broad and towering. You were intimidated yet interested, somehow finding cracks in his facade of prestige to reveal nothing but a man who wanted to justify himself in the few meetings you attended with the officers. 

 You respected him then, as a superior, but now- you didn’t even want to acknowledge what you felt. It took everything inside yourself to rend your gaze from him. He seemed to notice. 

His eyes would follow you as you sat stagnant at your control pad, your hair pulled into tight buns, your fingers dancing across the dimly lit screen. You attempted to ignore his diluted and uncertain gaze, to no avail.

To him, he quickly infiltrated your mind, slipping past your guard with dispatch as he pillaged your thoughts. You were so open, so easy to seep through. You were heedless of his doings- but felt a small sting settling where he pierced your conscious. 

 He saw your concupiscence for him, with the humiliation and resentment you felt towards it. He glimpsed at the shameful hours of your nights, where you stood underneath the hose of the shower, a part of you wishing he was there, just as exposed as you. He saw the want you felt in the latest hour of the day as you lay alone in your rachitic bed, shifting your legs, desiring to feel his large frame and temperature against you. He saw it all.

 - 

 You hadn’t seen The Supreme Leader since you locked eyes days ago, and you wish you felt relieved. Every time the subtle sound of boots entered your vicinity, your eyes roamed for his broad frame, only to your dismay.

'What am I waiting for?' 

 You sat quietly in the control room, your fingers dancing across the keys as you mindlessly translated codes - when the sound of his thick leather boots caressed your eardrum as he descended towards you. Your head snapped towards the door, to where his massive figure quickly amassed towards you, casting a shadow over you. 

You found yourself wanting to run in pure and utter fear, but something kept your feet plastered to the floor, and you panicked. 

 “Behind me,” he said blankly, tilting his mask to the door. You desired to hear his voice without the mask. 

 You obeyed as if it was second nature, standing and turning to follow his long strides with knees of slush and a heart rate you were sure was dangerous. You followed him for what seemed to be several minutes. It was uncomfortable. 

The only sound for miles seemed to be his breathing through the metal of his mask, and your quick footsteps as you hurriedly tried to stay behind him. He stopped and turned into a room at the end of the corridor. 

 Was he to kill you? Or worse, fire you? 

 You stepped inside the barren room behind him, watching him halt with his back turned from you. The doors slid shut behind you, and you felt yourself jump at the sturdy sound, now covered in the dark of the room. 

The silence was unbearable, you could hear yourself swallow, and felt the perspiration collect on your scalp. You were alone with The Supreme Leader, and you had a feeling all hope was lost. 

 “Do I intrigue you?” His voice penetrated the last shred of decency you had left in your soul, and you felt it leave your body with a jolt. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words left your tongue. You realized he knew of your visions, and you felt guilt spread across your cheeks and flush your chest in patches. 

Ren turned at your silence, his robes whisking across the metal floor. You shivered, feeling your feet instinctively retract back towards the door. He examined your soft face, saturated with fear and confusion. 

He felt the panic leak out of you, your hands trembling at your sides. His fingers raised to his jaw, releasing his masks clasps, as it was removed with a hiss. 

 The commander stared at you, and your stomach twisted with an unfamiliar spark. As if the sheer size of the man was enough to intrigue you, his sharp face and rounded lips only added gasoline to the fire that burned on your cheeks. His emotions pooled in the copper of his eyes, and you could tell it was just as raw and untamed as he was. 

 He could kill you now. One swift movement, one stroke of his saber, one kick to the gut and you’d be in a fatal condition. It was true, Ren was agile and sharp, like a blade - but soft and stoic, hypnotizing you with only a gaze. He was beautiful in a sad way, and you were most likely the only one who had seen such a thing in him. He read your mind, your thoughts but subtle visions in the back of his head.

 'Beautiful. Soft. Stoic. Handsome. Frightening.' 

 You felt the breath in your lungs escape in a barely audible sigh as you eyed him, more vulnerable than you had ever been with anyone, let alone, a man. He examined you. 

 'Small, forgiving, agile, warm, reserved, revengeful, hopeful.' 

 He took a step towards you, and he felt your whole existence tense with fear. He stopped, seeing your hand on your belt - clutching your blaster. You were felt your fight or flight instinct fluctuate, but somehow the fear linked with another emotion, one that you didn’t dare admit. You hated it. 

 He sensed it, the excitement, but your overpowering thoughts of fear clouded you. 

 “There is no danger here,” he says, his voice blanks, but encoded with a softness you had yet to hear.

“Say it,” he says, quietly. Your hand left your blaster. 

“Yes.” you finally spoke. 

 “Then tell me,” he breathed, closing the gap between you both, his head dipping down slightly to meet your gaze. Your lungs expanded with the smell of his freshly washed robes, clean linen and a hint of something you couldn’t describe to save your life. It was masculine and rich. 

 “you need me,” he says. “like I’ve needed you. I’ve seen it.” 

 You swore you were hyperventilating, but the tensity in your chest prevented such a mishap. You wanted to run out of pure embarrassment, but your feet stayed glued to the floor, internally knowing you’d never leave until he threw you out. 

 In one swift movement, his broad figure entrapped you and swallowed you into the ink of his robes. You saw his dimly lit face blur with proximity as he crashed his lips into yours, warm and obscenely inviting. You gasped against him, and your eyes fluttered closed. His smell penetrated your nose, and you felt yourself dissipate into a corrupted mess, saturated by his very existence. 

 He could have moaned, you smelled femininely soft, like a warm bath filled with suds of expensive soap and salts. Your face was soft against the leather of his gloves, young and warm. He moved against you, his arms roping around your spine, warmth pouring over you in a wave of heat that suffocated you so perfectly. Your lungs sucked in his scent, your lips moving against the unfamiliar smoothness of his own. You were drowning in him, and you felt as if you never wanted to breathe air again. 

He parted from you, and you felt the air leave your lungs in a desperate sigh. He eyed you, his orbs roaming over your long eyelashes, clouded eyes, and damp lips. You felt the leather of his gloves press against your waist, and the room moved around you in another soft and breathless movement. Your skull pressed against the cold of a metal wall, your body flat against his. The room dimmed, and your thoughts guided him. 

 His gloved hand snaked up your back to your scalp, reaching to rip the band that kept your hair. It amassed around you, and you heard him hum in satisfaction as he delved to what was exposed of your neck. 

 ”You were so lonely,” he says, low and soft, lips still against your skin. “Even now, I can still feel it. How deprived you are.” You felt sparks fall down your spine as he spoke, and a sigh escapes your open lips. He attacked your neck, his hands in your hair and inside your uniform. And in the back of your mind, you heard him whisper. 

 ‘You need me. Say it.’ he declared. 

You hesitate, unable to formulate the words on your tongue. 

‘Please.’

 You did. You felt his grasp on you tighten, and you felt yourself abandon the wall in motion with him. He effortlessly whisked you across the room, and you felt yourself sink, your back hitting something soft and full. A bed. 

You were in Kylo Ren’s bedroom. 

 Reason abandoned you, and all that was penetrated in your head was the smell of his clean hair and skin, minted breath and his hands prying your shirt above your head. 

 Something inside you panicked at your exposed chest, and your hands quickly shaded your breasts. He let out a low noise of disapproval, his hands moving to pry your arms away. Your eyes widened, and you looked back to him- only to see his lips already wandering over your sensitive skin. 

 He disconnected from you a moment, shifting upwards to rip his cape and arm guards from his shoulders, leaving his arms exposed in just an undershirt. 

 “That’s not fair.” you murmur. He felt a smile threaten to spread across his cheeks, and he stood again. His bare hands touched you, callused and worn against the contrast of your level skin. He lifted your hands to the brim of his undershirt, guiding you to slide the fabric up slightly to reveal his abdomen. He wanted you to touch him. You looked up to him through your lashes and leaned upwards, he guided your hands with his own up his chest, exposing and feeling more of his hot skin. His back weakened, and his posture changed to lean his forehead against your own, sighing as he felt your soft hands roam over the tender skin of his torso. 

 Ren was desperate for it. Touch. Any contact at all. If he hadn’t the dignity, he would’ve begged for it - he neglected in every way of affection. He removed his shirt, and although you could barely see in the soft azure light of the room, you could see he was drawn with muscle. 

Carelessly, you lifted your arms to graze over his shoulders and biceps. He shivered and kissed you again. Ren pressed you into the bed, plush and cool against your exposed back. He gripped at what was left of your uniform, pulling the fabric away from your legs. He shifted backward, taking you with him to the edge of the mattress. 

His hands effortlessly pulled your legs apart. The cold air hit your folds with a rush, and there wasn’t a moment spared before he attached his mouth to you, slicking his tongue in your heat. 

 You weren’t naive, you knew what this entailed, but the sensation couldn't be compared to anything you've done to yourself. He was unpredictable, warm, and obscenely yours. 

He gripped your thighs harshly in concentration, his eyes closed, his lashes caressing your abdomen. Your legs began to shake in time, and your stomach muscles twitched. Your breasts shook with your uneven breath, and you felt your insides tremor. His tongue was quick, tossing your bud from side to side, his lips salacious and slick against you. His mouth was hot, a white-heat crawling, filling your head, suffocating you. The feeling was overwhelming, and you quivered, tears brimming at your eyes. 

 You hopelessly lifted your hips to meet his mouth, rocking slightly, your knuckles white. You began to unravel, the new sensation of his tongue coaxing you further. Your breath caught in your larynx, and your lungs let out a cry you were sure some could hear from across the ship. 

 Everything was blank. Ecstasy, white-hot heat boiling in your abdomen, your walls pulsating tightly. His tongue continued, and you tensed, gripping at his scalp, ripping him away from you. 

You looked to him, you had never seen a sight so purely saturated with sex. His eyes were clouded, his mouth swollen and wet with slick. He parted from you. Your eyes opened again, and he was above you, his lips swollen and used. He kissed you with fervency. He hummed in satisfaction, pressing you to the bed. You separated, and he grabbed the waistband of his clothes, tugging them downwards. 

He shifted himself above you, his frame setting you in shadow. He looked vulnerable. His eyes were wide with arousal, his chest heaving above you, entrapping you with his arms on either side. You raised your legs around him, and you grip at his shoulders, lifting your hips to meet his heat, exposing your neck to him. 

He fell in love with you in that second, and you became addicted to him then. He felt the force, it coaxed him- a gentle hum in his ear- your vibration called to him, and he kissed you oncemore.

 Adjusting himself, he felt your wetness graze him, and he knew he could never stop himself even if he needed to. Ren leaned down and placed his hand below your ear, his eyes overcast. He slid past your entrance, his mouth hanging open as his brows furrowed, his eyes fixed on your face. 

You unraveled, feeling the contact high as his redolence surrounded you. He pressed deeper, and you felt his length stretch you. He was to the hilt, and you held onto him, feeling his abdomen caress your own, his dense hair brushing your bare mound. He let out a sigh, his minted breath hitting your cheeks, soft and heated. 

 The feeling was uncomfortably foreign, he was hot within you, and you felt the blood pulse through his length, twitching inside you. His skin was as heated as a furnace against you, and his breath became muddled and shaken. His hips lifted drawing himself from you, only to sink himself inside your slick again. He swilled inside, drawing your walls, pressing against something dangerously wonderful. You gripped onto his neck, you felt something swell within you. 

 “I feel you.” he says with a sigh, “let it go.” 

 He didn’t even have to ask. He pressed deeper, and his pace strengthened, and you metaled. You let all signs of care pass from you, and your mouth hung loose as you gasped and writhed below his broad frame. He let obscene sounds escape past his lips, feral and low. His damp skin hit the back of your thighs, and you undid around him. 

 Something vibrated a low, painfully perfect sensation against your core. You couldn’t tell if you were hallucinating, or if it was him. It built, and you screamed - he was using the force on you. 

 He huffed above you, and rested his forehead against your hair, his hand wrapping around your throat as the oscillation drove you to euphoria. You were going to come again, and you couldn’t tell if you were screaming or not through the sound of his voice in your ear. 

 A string of profanities left his mouth, but they were white noise in the back of your conscience. He grew desperate, words turning into moans as he draws further. You trembled, your eyes rolling into the back in their sockets. You held onto him like there was a thousand-foot drop below you, and elation swelled in your abdomen and swam to your brain. 

 Ren crumbled, you tensed around him, tugging at his length. His jaw hung open, and he collapsed into you, his muffled moans in your hair and against your ear. He twitched inside you, and you descended back to earth. Ren was weak against you, his body shivering even though he was as heated as a generator. 

His breath was still shattered in soft sputters of air. And it came to you then. It was his first time. He raised his head from where it laid, and he smashed his lips into yours, sloppy and without care. He clasped your face with his hands, parting only when he needed air. 

He settled, regaining his conscious again, and he shifted down to your chest, resting his head below your collarbone, his breathing even again.

"Stay with me," he whispers, his eyes closing, the honey of his eyes melting you again. 

It was without question.

***

Part 2?

[wedreamedlove]

MLQC Men Headcanon Notes

Now that I’ve spent more time with these men (it’s getting close to 2 years!) I wanted to share the general thoughts, themes, motifs, etc. that I keep in mind when I’m writing their character.

This is 1000% headcanon territory, so feel free to take what’s useful and ignore what’s not LOL but I’d also love to see people add in their own “character reference cheat sheet” to this!

(I’m especially curious because, due to being of Asian diaspora, I write best in English but my understanding of the characters come from CN/JP text). Incidentally, if anyone feels ANY of this when reading my fics, then that’s all I could ever ask for LOL.

LI ZEYAN

He is Capricorn² and, while the game doesn’t make explicit mentions to this, I associate the element earth with him because of this. He’s described with attributes like being steady, calm, and always in control. He is the epitome of an immovable boulder and things revolve around him, not the other way around. I like to draw on imagery of unbending steel and/or the stable ground.

Meanwhile, like the goat of his astrological sign, every step he takes to climb to his goal is assured. He doesn’t do anything spontaneous or without thought, so if he does lose control and act without thinking then it has to be a momentuous occasion. Basically, it’s really important to me that if I write a loss of control, then it’s likely to be the centerpiece.

Keeping in mind that his Evol is time control, I also like to try and subtly weave an atmosphere of how everything happens at his pace. Winter being his season only adds onto this because the world stills when it’s covered in snow; everything becomes muted, hushed, and slowed in this season.

The chemistry in his romance arc is how his pace and control gets disturbed, but he adapts quickly and learns to go along with these moments of whimsy. Or more like that’s his character development and how love changes him.

His canon (spirit) animal is the cat and lion. Felines go along very well with the emperor or noble archetypes he has in all his AU cards, because cats are stereotyped as being independent and haughty animals. He’s not big on PDA or excessive skinship, but he’s not disagreeable to them either. Too much stimulation and, like a cat, he’ll probably show exasperation. Ignore him for too long though and he’ll come to share his presence with you.

For me, his love is shown through quiet acts of service that don’t have any attention drawn to them. Him just being in the same room or giving his attention is how he emotes his love.

He’s quite low-key in his normal life so he doesn’t seem like someone who gets confused over commoner things, but there are also moments where he spends an enormous amount of money without blinking. If life can be made easier with money then why not, right?

Keywords: Calm. Steady. Earth. Immovable. Control. Exasperated Affection. Time. Cats. Literal Capricorn. Winter. Mature.

ZHOU QILUO

First thing that comes to mind is the sun and heat. Fire is his element and so I go for stereotypical imagery like flares of passion and burning bright. He switches expressions and moods at the drop of a hat and he’s a mood maker to the extreme, but there’s no hiding the way he shines with his love for his love.

However, because he’s also Helios, it’s really important for me to play around with dualities and explore the other side of this positive imagery. So, just like how the sun can bring warmth and life, it’s also a deadly laser something that can hurt people by blinding them or setting fires. It’s also fun to remember that the moon only has light from the sun’s reflection.

Game-wise, I believe Helios has been described with cold and ice imagery but, because I try to keep that imagery for Li Zeyan, what I like to consider instead is that extremely cold things can “burn” you too. Frostbite can also be called ice burn.

The sky is repeated imagery for Luoluo too, because of his eyes, but I’ll admit I’m still uncertain about how to interpret this for his character. Generally, the sky represents freedom but...? How I approach this is that the sky doesn’t discriminate and protects everyone below it (echoing his quote about how he protects the light in the dark).

On this note about the sky being welcoming, I view Luoluo’s love as one that accepts his love no matter what they’re like and he grows together with them (unlike the two adults, Li Zeyan and Xu Mo).

However, again, it’s super important to remember his duality and just because he’s a playful mood maker doesn’t mean he’s not able to switch into a serious and mature mode. He keeps his innocence and warm heart despite the darkness he’s seen and understands.

His canon animal is the bear which also makes me tilt my head. I can only see this as how bears are seen as both cuddly and cute, but also fierce and protective. He was also given a stag but... no one uses that LOL.

Keywords: Fire. Passion. Playful. Innocent. Little Sun! But Moon. Spring. Sacrifice. Darkness. Sky. Mischievous. Mood Maker.

BAI QI

Every single cell in his body is attuned to his love. You ever lose your phone and then, for the rest of the day, you feel as if you’re missing an important piece of yourself and you have intrusive thoughts wondering where it is? That’s him. You ever see something so cute you experience cute aggression and don’t know what to do with yourself? That’s him. You know those dogs that strain at their leashes on the streets because they want to go and greet you? That’s him.

It’s all about the yearning.

I know, I know, I wrote essays about how he can survive without his love and how he’s someone who carries both love and a greater justice BUT let’s not kid ourselves that he doesn’t revolve around his love like Jupiter around the sun.

Anyway, so the game shoves wind descriptions down our throats. It’s literally another vehicle for him to emote his love and, to be honest, I don’t do much with it other than use it for that. I talked about it extensively in my character essays, but I suppose I play with the irony of how he’s only free because he has a home can return to. [Loneliness SR Wind and Care Call] “Because I have a place for my heart, I can fly anywhere.”

I don’t believe the game emphasizes this any more than it does with the other men, but I try to always have a point of contact between Bai Qi and his love because, again, the yearning and vibrating with All That Love. He’s such a physical character (military archetype) that I also want to emphasize that in writing.

In addition, I’m all about him being the most feral of the men. Heck, his canon animal is the wolf which is great for both its stereotypical and non-stereotypical meanings, such as being a lone wolf and ferocious animal but also a pack animal that can’t survive on its own and needs a pack. Meanwhile, NW717 is described in-game as a monster.

Look, one of his signature descriptions in the game is resting his chin on or against his love’s head and nuzzling them. I’m not baselessly trying to push my kink I swear.

So, like how Bai Qi said in [Light Bath SSR: Tenderness Call] that maybe he only shows his gentleness towards select people (his love and mother), he’ll give the person he loves all the warmth of his being but, oh boy, I see him as being a beast who will remember his true nature upon being chained; the “chain” of love gives him the reassurance he needs to be truly free... in all its meanings.

Keywords: Ginkgo. Summer. Primal. Wind. Love is love is love. 3-Point Contact. Wolf. Yearning. Vitality. Justice. Freedom. Physical. Restraint.

XU MO

First, given how vocal I am about Elex’s changes, this is probably going to be the most drastically different section out of everyone vs. their English version.

Soft. Light. Gentle. Kind. Gossamery. Feathery. Ethereal. Faint. Whenever I write him, do I literally open up a thesaurus to find synonyms for gentle, light, and soft? Yup! LOL.

Fun fact, in CN and JP the word for “smile” and “laugh” is the same character and so sometimes there is ambiguity when translating if there’s no clear markers. The writers definitely had a word in mind when they wrote the scene, but unfortunately we don’t have the ability to check with them at every use and so sometimes it does come to subjective interpretation.

For me, Xu Mo is characterized by a lot of quietness. Game-wise, there are enormous usages of silence and descriptions of emotional fluctuations in his eyes so Significant Silences and Looks are a major thing with him and in my writing for him, which is why I always choose “smile” over “laugh” if there is any ambiguity in the line (I believe Elex leans towards chuckles).

On a similar note, the game also gives him a gigantic serving of descriptions that only ever use the word for “light, slight, faint, soft, gentle” in JP and CN. It gives him a very floaty and dreamy feeling, even if he’s doing something physical. So, it’s important for me to keep a similar atmosphere when writing and make everything feel as if it has to be shared in a whisper.

A bonus here is that it doesn’t require much to turn this ethereal feeling into a melancholic one, so you get that dash of angst that layers over everything. Leave a few things unknown here and there, incomplete actions, eyes that get averted and Boom. Angst.

Shifting gears, but if my imagery of Bai Qi’s love is like a tense, vibrating, and restrained chain of yearning then Xu Mo’s love is like a flood barely being held back by a dam. Knowledge of the quantity and weight behind the dam is terrifying, but it’s safe to be submerged inside it. Much like Luoluo and Helios, Xu Mo also has a dangerous duality in Ares and so I also like to play with this imagery.

So, on this point, I like to preserve an underlying sense of darkness (all-consuming possessiveness, etc.) and envision that he also wishes to stain his love in his colors, like a drop of ink on white paper and how it seeps into every fiber of the paper until the whole thing is saturated with him.

Incidentally, I’m reminded that—whenever possible and natural—I want to exclusively use water imagery with Xu Mo. The game supports this too! He is described with extensive water imagery and so I try to use water metaphors, analogies, and similes.

I try to make sure every sense is present, but I feel like the game emphasizes (especially with the red thread of fate imagery) that Xu Mo and his love are connected at a soul-deep level and so I always keep in mind a mental, emotional, and spiritual aspect.

Lastly, his canon animal is the fox (we ignore the black goat LOL) so contrasting his elegant, scholarly, and gentleman’s air with a black belly, teasing, and mischievous air is also important! Sexual but with, you know, class.

Keywords: Butterflies. Monochrome. Artist. Red Thread. Autumn. Melancholy. Water. Soft. Gentle. Light. Faint. Dreams. Spiritual. Fox.

LING XIAO

I’m getting more comfortable with him, but he’s still shrouded in so much mystery. If every one of the other men treat their loves with gentleness though Ling Xiao is definitely one who isn’t afraid of roughhousing. He’ll act first and then ask for forgiveness afterward, if needed.

But I like to keep in mind that, for all his roughness, he’s still a good kid at heart and when he saw MC’s skirt rising up when he tried to pull her over the fence he immediately stopped. So, a bit of a bully but without any humiliation.

Intelligent, strong, and dangerous but hiding all of that beneath a devil-may-care attitude and someone who does things on a whim. I don’t know what to do much with his canon animal being the shark except to attach it vaguely to this point and think that, as an apex predator of the sea, it does things at its own pace (somehow, it gives me the image that he likes to bite... but, uh, that’s probably just me LOL).

Keywords: Mercurial. Lightning. Sarcasm. Physical.

[n-blanca-archived]

↳ CLASS 1-A HC’S TO MAKE YOU SMILE (hopefully) 

A/N: i’ve been on class-1a brainrot (yes, all of them. collectively) for SO LONG and honestly? I love it here. romance is all good and dandy but FRIENDSHIP? good shit. 

on that note, these pairings are all platonic! just little things i like about their dynamics or things i think they’d do when they hang out :) feel free to see them as romantic though, not like i can stop you :P

p.s sorry for dipping??? for like months???

genre: fluff

warnings: minor situational angst

→ Denki & Izuku

❑ These two boys are the other’s hype-man, totally. Kaminari absolutely does not mind sitting through Izuku’s ravings about the fluctuating hero rankings, or even just the times where Izuku mutters on and on. 

❑ Kaminari’s been ignored enough times to know that it doesn’t feel good at all to want to talk to someone and for them to sheepishly tell you they’d long since stopped listening. Izuku does the same for Denki, no question. Sometimes Denki starts talking, and he doesn’t really...stop. 

❑ But Izuku finds it’s nice to hang out with the boy, and he doesn’t mind not contributing to the conversation when Denki looks so elated to see someone listening for once. 

❑ While I will forever be the number one advocate for Bakugou tutoring Denki and finding different studying strategies that work for Denki instead of giving up on him, I think Izuku’s just as likely to do that for kami! 

❑ It’s a frustrating first session, but once Izuku’s brian suggests that Kami might just need another method of studying, he takes that idea and runs with it. 

❑ The next week, kami goes to Izuku’s room a little afraid of the freckled boy rejecting him- but to his surprise, Izuku presents him with all types of new study methods, including colored index cards and a home-made sentence reader that covered the entire page except for one line at a time.

❑ (yes, he did tear up for a second.) 

❑ They end up going through that week's chapter in half the time it usually took Denki to get a subject, and they got to play video games afterward! 

→ Ochako & Katsuki

❑ While I don't think the boys in 1-A look down on the girls in the sense of "but they're girls so they are weaker :(" all that much- Katsuki was the first and only one really to make that clear. He didn't see her as something or someone to pity. She was an opponent and a damn capable one at that.

❑ So, yes. Maybe Ochako and Katsuki aren't exactly best friends who'd die for each other. But they’ve proven to each other that if there's someone who'll bring their all to a fight no matter the circumstance, it's each other.

❑ Ochako’s weariness when it came to Katsuki was short lived. It was kind of hard to be so...afraid of someone who treated you better than others seemed to coddle her when she told them she was a hero-in-training. 

❑ It starts small, too. At first it was just teaming up occasionally during class for spars. Then it was going to the gym after school with Katsuki and Eijirou. 

❑ Tiny little hang-outs like that then turn into joining the blonde on his morning runs every once in a while, and eventually Ochako found herself seeking out Bakugou every weekend, and the blonde seemed to be on the same mind-track, too. Every Sunday, when Ochako pulled open the front door, she spotted Katsuki, stretching out in the front lawn, waiting for her. 

❑ (and if they occasionally have breakfast together after their bi-weekly sunday training sessions, then that's their business.)

→ Shouto & Eijirou

❑ them hanging out wasn't really ever. Expected. Like, at all.

❑ but kirishima's shown that he has a knack for weird, almost hostile awkward boys with low friend counts

❑ so shouto fits right in

❑ really it starts when Kirishima finds Shouto in the common room, staring into space. Usually he'd leave him be, but it was weird to see the boy without his group of friends joining him

❑ in an effort to get to know shouto better, kiri offers to play a few rounds of super smash bros,,, and shouto just. blinks. at him. And kiri blinked back for a second before he realizes shouto didn't know what super smash bros was

❑ and of course, to kiri, that's absolute blasphemy

❑ so kiri abandons his trip to the kitchen in favor of sitting next to shouto on the couch, and teaching him how to play as many video games as they could fit in one night

❑ (the first time kiri sees shouto laugh, he can't help the way his face splits into a grin. Todoroki, while not mean, was someone who came off as cold most of the time, so to see him so relaxed made Eijirou feel warm.)

❑ somehow it becomes a regular thing-- shouto would come downstairs, and eventually Kirishima would show up. Sometimes they were both alone, sometimes they were surrounded by their friend groups. But every time without fail, Kirishima would take his place next to shouto, hand him the blue controller that he favored, and turned on the TV to select the first game they'd be playing

❑ (watching Shouto start to gain some of Kirishima's vernacular was also an interesting - read:hilarious - experience)

→ Mina & Yuga

❑break dancing buddies

❑ like. I'm not kidding these two have moves.

❑ well. Mina does, at least. Aoyama gets it pretty quickly but it took him a second to familiarize himself with how your body moves when your break dancing.

❑ aoyama's danced ballet most of his life, so dancing wasn't new to him

❑ but this particular type of dancing was new to him- so of course he reached out to mina after the UA festival

❑ mina, ever the angel, agreed!!!!! Dancing buddies!!!

❑ Mina's also loved dance for a good amount of time

❑ it started in middle school, and just carried into highschool. The idea of being to express yourself with your /body/ was exciting, plus you looked really cool while doing it too!

❑ so when she gets asked by Aoyama to teach him how to breakdance she's nervous, but completely giddy to be able to be someone else's intro to a hobby that was a big part of her life

❑ it's not an uncommon sight to see mina and Aoyama, in their workout clothes, working through moves Step by step with Mina's phone blasting some random song that was beat heavy

❑ (Aoyama would be an interesting extra add on to the bakusquad. Am I wrong? No 🚗)

→ Hanta & Tsuyu

❑ Sero never really interacted with tsuyu, not to say he didn't like her! she just wasn't in his social circle

❑ so to say he felt awkward when he found her in the corner of the library during free period- curled up and sniveling away - was an understatement

❑ still, he put down the fourth issue of a manga he was /really/ looking forward to catching up on, and sat next to her until she calmed down enough to tell him what's wrong

❑ turns out, winter always sucked and made her tired, which made her sad. Added on to the already existing amphibian instincts in her that hated loud noises or too many people, it could get really overwhelming for her

❑ Sero offered to let her into his room whever she wanted to hang out in the quiet, if she felt embarrassed to do so with her closer friends

❑ she seemed surprised, but quickly agreed.

❑ Sero wouldn't tell her, but he often felt the same in a sense. The only two people in his friend group who could be relatively quiet in more personal settings were Bakugou, ironically, and Kirishima. So he often found himself leaving group hang-outs just a little early, to destress in his quiet room.

❑ tsuyu hadn't expected him to stay with her, and especially not offer his room to her whenever she needed to get away. Still, she agreed, knowing she'd probably never take him up on his offer

❑ she was proven wrong three days later, when Ochako squealed about...something.

❑ tsuyu couldn't say for sure what the floaty girl was yelling about. Normally she was attentive, really! But her head was throbbing and she was on the verge of falling asleep then and there when Ochako burst into a loud yell of excitement, startling the frog-like girl

❑ so tsuyu gathered her stuff as quickly as her sluggish body allowed, rushed out a quick goodbye to her baffled friends and made her way to the dorms

❑ the elevator was a struggle, with the humming of the machinery almost lulling her to sleep. She made it out successfully, though due to her drowsiness and increasingly blurring vision, she realized just a little too late that she had wandered down the wrong hallway

❑ sero's name plate made her stutter in her tracks, but after a moment of deliberation that left her swaying on her feet, she knocked as strongly as she could on the thin door, hoping the lanky boy was in his room

❑ thankfully, he was, and he only offered her a small smile before ushering her into the room and guiding her to his bed. Tsuyu thinks she croaked out a tiny "thanks", but she couldn't really be sure

❑ she slept better in those 39 minutes than she had in weeks

❑ after that, tsuyu somehow got into the habit of wandering down the opposite hallway once she left the elevator, and most of the time Sero would open his door when she knocked, only giving her a smile before letting her wander to his bed or, more commonly, the pile of blankets and bean bags he had in a corner of his room.

❑ (she wouldn't admit it, and neither would he, but the times where they walked back to his dorm together once their free period began were their favorites. and the days where tsuyu wasn't so sleepy and they talked for the hour they had weren't so bad, either)

okokok i’m cutting it here since that last section was super long! who knew i had so much to say about hanta and tsuyu ,,,, 

anyway! this was super fun, so i’ll definitely be doing stuff like this more in the future. if you have two characters you’d particularly like to see, don’t be afraid to jump into my ask box! 

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s Dangerous Night Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 危夜之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Do note that this date features S2 Gavin, but doesn’t contain S2 spoilers.

Timeline: The STF Filming Plan -> Dangerous Night Date -> Saving the Young Troublemaker Project

[ This date was released in CN on 28 Sep 2020 ]

Female Anchorwoman: Next, our focus is on breaking news.

On the television, the two words “Breaking News” are displayed on Loveland Night News. The female anchorwoman looks into the camera and starts presenting the news. 

Female Anchorwoman: Around 10pm today, a building in the suburbs of Loveland City collapsed for reasons still unknown. According to sources provided by eye-witnesses, the building was part of a certain estate development project, and has not been put to use. Typically, no one goes in or out. But this does not eliminate the possibility of people being trapped within. The municipal administration has expressed that this incident could have been caused by Evol. The STF has been engaged to carry out a rescue mission. Loveland Night News once again calls citizens...

Squadmate: Captain Gavin, we’ve contacted the base. The search and rescue dogs will be here soon.

Gavin sits on a chair, his legs crossed as he pulls the strings on his leather boots tightly.

Gavin: Got it. We’ll set out once the search and rescue dogs are here. 

Squadmate: Yes.

Gavin stands up, adjusts his equipment to a comfortable level, then picks up his phone on the table. 

The phone displays the time: 22:59. It’d take an hour to reach the collapsed building. 

Gavin taps on a message he received three days ago. The sender is MC.

Message from MC: Gavin, when I was out for location scouting, I discovered a slightly strange building in the suburbs of the city. There seems to be special Evol fluctuations inside. 

Message from MC: Does the STF want to make some time to investigate?

Message from MC: Just to be clear - I’m really not joking this time. 

His response was: I’ll take a look next week.

There’s a cute emoticon in the white message bubble opposite. 

And the conversation ended there.

The response section still retains the draft he didn’t send at the time: Don’t go there alone.

By the time images of the collapsed building appeared in the news, the surrounding area had already been cordoned off.

Gavin makes a call... “du”, “du”, “du”, again and again.

When the female automated voice resounds, Gavin hangs up.

---”the number you have dialed is currently unavailable.”

-

It’s dark.

I open my eyes, attempting to stand up in the dark. 

MC: ...I’m not dead. 

I rub the dull ache at the back of my head, panting while my heart flutters with fear. 

The collapse of the building happened so suddenly. I instinctively ran to a corner to hide. From the looks of it, that decision saved my life. 

I reach out to feel around my surroundings--

There’s a wall in front of me. It’s slanted, so it must have fallen. It just so happened to shield me from broken stones that fell.

But precisely because of this, I’m stuck in a narrow space and can’t really stand up.

MC: Cough, cough cough...

My mouth is filled with the taste of dust, and I don't know how long I've lost consciousness. 

The building was swaying very violently when it collapsed. I couldn’t stand steadily at all, and my entire body collided with a wall. 

I return to my senses, using both hands to feel the ground.

My phone... I remember gripping my phone the entire time.

No one knows that I'm here. This unfinished building has been left empty for several years, so no one might come to my rescue. 

I need to hurry and find a way to call for help.

Air is still flowing here, so there’s no danger of oxygen deprivation. But I can only survive for 3 to 4 days without a water source. 

Before the building collapsed, I was in the basement level. Logically speaking, it’s near the surface, but I can’t tell if the upper floors are crushing on it...

The wall above me doesn’t seem to be able to hold much more weight. If it gets weighed down slightly, there’s a risk of a collapse.

I frantically feel around the mess on the ground - it’s all pieces of rock, broken steel bars, glass shards...

Suddenly, I see a single, cold ray of light--

The phone touchpad recognises my fingerprint, lighting up the screen. I hurriedly pick up the phone, and on it displays: “2 Missed Calls”.

MC: Gavin. 

Upon seeing this name, the tautness in my heart suddenly relaxes. 

I immediately give him a call. The “du”, “du” of the dial tone resounds in the empty and quiet darkness, amplified infinitely. 

Countless thoughts fly across my mind--

Maybe Gavin is resting. Maybe he’s on an important mission. Maybe he isn’t in Loveland City now...

“du”, “du”, “du”...

When the fifth beep sounds, I’ve already set down the phone, preparing to hang up.

Gavin: Where are you?

MC: Gavin!

I suddenly hear Gavin’s voice. I stare at the screen and am stunned for a moment.

And react immediately!

MC: Gavin! The unfinished building in the suburbs I told you about just collapsed. I’m trapped in it, in the basement--

Gavin: Got it.

His voice is overly calm, which I find odd.

MC: You already know about the collapsed building? 

Gavin’s calm voice drifts from the phone, mixed with the clamour of his surroundings. 

Gavin: I’m in charge of tonight’s search and rescue mission.

MC: ...

MC: ...haha! That’s great.

Gavin: What’s wrong?

MC: Nothing much, I just feel the happiness of a disaster survivor.

Gavin: I haven’t even rescued you out yet. 

MC: With you around, there won’t be a problem. 

Gavin breathes composedly, as though not knowing what to say.

Gavin: If you were afraid of death, you shouldn’t have gone running around in the middle of the night. 

Gavin: ...I can’t leave out a single reminder.

Gavin raises his volume. 

Gavin: Where were you before the collapse? 

MC: The carpark in the underground basement.

Gavin: I’m looking for you now. Take care of your own safety.

MC: Hold on. Gavin, there’s no hurry to look for me. I was only here for a short while and there won’t be any danger. But I saw some vagabonds staying here at night. There are definitely other people in this building. Save them first!

Gavin is silent for a few seconds.

Gavin: The STF will not decide who it will save first or later. I’ll save everyone.

-

I don’t want to wait here alone, so I don’t hang up even after a long time. 

Neither does Gavin.

Sometimes, the sound of Gavin and other members of the STF would drift from the phone. 

Gavin: Do you have the plane figure of the building?

Squadmate: Got it. Captain Gavin, we’ve asked around the vicinity, and there are a few vagabonds living in this building. Most of them are on the third or fourth floor. 

Gavin: There’s been a rainstorm these two days. This building doesn’t have covered windows. Locations near the windows will be drenched from the rain. They should be in the middle parts of the floor. Two people per group - bring the search and rescue dogs and begin the operation.

Squadmate: Understood!

I hug the phone in contemplation.

Before sending Gavin the message, I had already visited this building a few times to investigate. 

I familiarised myself with all the entrances and exits to have the confidence to deal with any surprise situations. But I completely didn’t expect that this would happen.

Gavin: [with a gentle voice capable of making flowers bloom] Are you all right? 

After a moment, I realise that Gavin is talking to me. 

MC: Huh? I’m fine.

I look at the time displayed on the phone - It’s already 1am.

Gavin: Are you sleepy? 

MC: ...I’m not that brave. How could I be drowsy under such circumstances?

Gavin: The scope of the basement level is too large. I need a more detailed lead.

MC: Are you holding the plane figure of the building?

Gavin: Yes. Relate your route to me.

MC: I came in using the east entrance, and planned to take the stairs up from the fire exit. So I should have been heading west.

The sound of a finger gliding across the paper can be heard. 

Gavin: During the collapse, did you see the fire exit?

MC: I didn’t. It was probably around a hundred metres away. I’m currently trapped in a corner. The structure here is pretty stable, so it could be a load-bearing wall.

Gavin: I know your approximate location. Wait for me.

MC: Mm.

Hearing my soft sigh, Gavin laughs. 

Gavin: Are you afraid? 

MC: Maybe a little. It’s a new experience in life, so of course it’d scare someone.

Gavin: Knowing what it means to be afraid is a good thing. If I didn’t come, how did you plan to rescue yourself?

MC: There’s no such “if”. The moment I felt something was amiss, I gripped my phone and wanted to give you a call.

I hold onto the phone, staring at the light on the screen, and staring at the word “Gavin” on it.

Just this name alone harbours the ability to make one feel at ease. 

Gavin: You’re so certain that I’d come rescue you?

MC: Mm! Captain Gavin is someone who will never leave a single Loveland City citizen in the lurch.

Gavin ignores me. 

MC: ...

MC: Have you found the other people who are trapped? 

Gavin: We’ve found two. They’re being rescued now. 

MC: That’s fast...

Gavin: STF’s search and rescue dogs have undergone professional training. They can accurately locate people who are trapped. 

MC: Search and rescue dogs? 

??: Bark!

A bark suddenly drifts from the other end of the line. 

Gavin: Little Grey should have found you.

MC: Little Grey? What a careless name... Were you the one who named it?

Gavin: What’s wrong with the name?

...I don’t give him a response.

In the darkness, I seem to hear sounds from above. 

Tiny rocks are pelting from above. The steel bars seem to be weighed down by something, releasing a whimpering sound.

Gravel and dust rustle as they fall...

MC: Gavin!

MC: Leave quickly. Bring your men and leave immediately, it’s dangerous! There’s going to be a second collapse--

Gavin breathes, as though he’s about to speak, but doesn’t. He quickly issues out orders. 

Gavin: Everyone, take note. Evacuate immediately. I repeat - Evacuate immediately! 

I hug the phone, not sure what I should say to Gavin.

Gavin: [with the gentlest of voices] MC, you’ll be okay.

His voice carries with it his usual confidence.

Gavin: I guarantee. 

I press the phone to my ear, capturing every breath in his voice. After adjusting my breathing, I raise my volume.

MC: You have to leave quickly, don’t stay here! I’m very safe where I am. Shouldering another collapse is no problem!

The creaking of the steel bars grows closer. I’m not sure if it’s just my misperception, but the wall above me seems to have caved downwards slightly.

Already set to the lowest brightness, my screen becomes even dimmer.

A few large rocks pelt down in front of me, channelling large gusts of dust. 

MC: Just bring Little Grey to look for me later, I...

Rumble!

-

The building collapses once again, causing dust clouds to billow.

The STF team members have rescued two elderly folk who are in their fifties, who collect scraps for a living. 

Gavin stares at the ruins in front of him wordlessly.

His eyes are mixed with imperceptible, repressed emotions. It’s as though underneath the tranquil ocean hides turbulence and fierceness. 

The searchlights illuminate the location he was standing at just now, and the search and rescue dogs had already sent a signal to him -- it meant that his target could have been under his feet.

Maybe only five metres away. Maybe three metres.

Gavin: Everyone--

He squats down, rubbing the nape of the rescue dog, pulling on its leash again.

Seeming to sense something out of the ordinary, they wag their tails at Gavin, as though comforting him without words.

With a heavy gaze, he looks towards the two rescue dogs, as though he’s handing over all his trust. 

Gavin: Recommence the search and rescue operation. Be sure to rescue everyone who has been trapped.

-

The phone has already exhausted its battery, and has shut off automatically.

I’m huddled in a corner, trying to reduce the amount of energy expended.

I know that the slanted wall has already collapsed, and is hanging above. Maybe the steel bar didn’t snap, which is why only half of it has weighed downwards.

There’s a wall behind me, and a gigantic fallen rock in front. I don’t have any space to move.

But it’s far too dark. I can’t check the condition of the wall behind me, and I don’t know how much longer it can hold. 

MC: Gavin. 

There’s nothing I can do. I lean on the wall and wait patiently. 

I know he’ll come.

MC: ...

A few hours pass, and I hear some sounds from above, but they disappear into the darkness quickly. 

Perhaps knowing that Gavin will definitely appear, the fear and anxiety in my heart dissipates with the passage of time. 

The most distinct feeling is tiredness. 

Maintaining my posture of sticking close to the wall, my back is hunched, and I’ve been sitting until my bottoms hurt.

Time passes so slowly here. Every second is elongated. 

The physical fatigue I’m experiencing tells me that an entire night has gone by.

In the middle of sleeping and waking, a bright light suddenly appears before my eyes...

I immediately turn my back towards it -- as expected, in the next instant, a strong wind suddenly lifts the tiles and bricks in my surroundings.

I lift my head to see Gavin standing above the ruins. 

The sun is faintly discernible behind him and the layers of clouds, illuminating a faint glow in the blue horizon. Wind brushes his fringe, revealing that pair of resolute amber eyes. 

Gavin: Are you okay?

His voice is very light, and exudes a rare fatigue. It seems he has been busy the entire night. But a faint smile still hangs at the corners of his lips. 

...as compared to the wry smile I’m wearing now, Gavin seems more like the disaster survivor.

Gavin: Give me your hand!

He takes a step forward, reaching out to me. I hurriedly hold onto it, but I don’t want my entire self to be towed away by him.

My vision is turned upside down. Gavin suddenly hoists me onto his shoulders.

MC: ...Gavin?!

I see that under his protective gear, his shirt is drenched with sweat, sticking to his broad back.

Reason tells me to put up a bit of a struggle. But after hanging by a thread between life and death for an entire night, I seem to be unable to triumph over the tiny greed in my heart.

The doctor from the ambulance comes over to help, but Gavin waves a hand at him, signalling that there’s no such need.

He walks forward by around ten metres, leaving the site of the ruins. He sees me down on the hood of a STF car. 

His brows are furrowed, looking as though he’s suppressing his emotions. My gut feeling tells me that he’s angry.

MC: ...I was wrong! I was wrong because I shouldn’t have gone running around in the middle of the night, and troubling the STF to rescue me. As for using the community’s resources, I’ll be sure to do a serious self-reflection.

MC: I guarantee that this is the only time. There won’t be a next time! 

Gavin was probably about to say those things to me, and didn’t expect that I’d acknowledge everything. So he remains silent for a period of time.

Although are elements of a joke in my words, I shoot him a resolute, apologetic and sincere expression.

I know that he’s worked hard for an entire night, and has been worried for an entire night. 

After a moment of silence, he releases a faint sigh. 

Gavin: You said it yourself - there won’t be a next time.

While he speaks, he reaches out to place a hand on my head--

MC: Ah it hurts...

The back of my head suddenly hurts, and I exclaim softly. When I reach out to touch it, I discover that there’s a big lump on the back of my head.

Gavin: You’ll only learn your lesson after experiencing some pain. I’ll send you to the hospital for a check up later.

MC: No need, I...

Information must have been sent through his earpiece. Gavin lifts his hand to signal that I should be quiet. He leans his head to the side, listening seriously.

Thinking that the search and rescue operation has yet to be completed, and that he definitely has other things he’s busy with, I hop down from the hood of the car, making a “I’m off” hand gesture towards him.

The world around me suddenly darkens a few times--

My legs grow weak, and my vision dims. Dimmer and dimmer...

Just before I lose consciousness, I seem to feel Gavin’s hand on my cheek, the rough fabric of the military gloves, his calloused finger pads...

I feel it all.

-

Doctor: The nuclear magnetic resonance shows that it’s just a mild shock of the brain. It’s nothing serious. The loss of consciousness is only temporary. It could also be due to low blood sugar levels and insufficient rest.

Doctor: If you’re worried, she can remain in the hospital for observation for two days. Are you a family member of the patient? I’ll bring the documents over in a while.

Gavin: All right.

With a sound of acknowledgement, the doctor leaves the ward.

The girl lying on the bed hasn’t regained consciousness. The IV on the back of her hand is strung to glucose.

Gavin walks over, reaching out to brush aside her fringe, which is damp with sweat. His brows furrow slightly, as though he’s angry. As though he doesn’t know who he should be angry with.

Gavin: ...why are you so bold - daring to go anywhere on your own.

He sits on a chair in front of the bed, leaning against the back of the chair in fatigue.

His deep gaze sweeps past her pale cheeks and haggard shoulders, stirring up great waves within his eyes which differ from usual.

After a while, deep breathing fills the quiet room.

Sunlight pours in through the curtains, chasing away all the darkness and unease of the night before.

-

Phone call: here

-

🦮 MOMENTS 🦮

Gavin’s Post: The team received a box of canned dog food.

MC: I don't know the address of the base for search and rescue dogs, so I could only send them to you.

Gavin: Got it. I’ll send it to the base.

-

Gavin’s Post: The team received a box of canned dog food.

MC: I sent it - it’s for Little Grey.

Gavin: They don’t eat outside snacks, but I’ll convey your kind regards to them.

-

Gavin’s Post: The team received a box of canned dog food.

MC: Only cans of dog food? Captain Gavin, check the box again...

Gavin: A silk banner for Little Grey? All right, I’ll accept it on its behalf.